#its a bit shiny but i couldn't find a position where it wouldn't be when i shot it

[should-david-be-there]

I've been chasing this wee naked child over hill and over dale. Isn't that right, you... timorous beastie?

[jujutsubaby]

chemical reactions (part 1)

☆ pairing: zeke jaeger x pieck finger ☆ summary: when pieck traveled to faraway trost for a prestigious research position, she expected to feel lonely. what she last expected was to find a bit of home in her supervisor. ☆ warnings: chronic illness mentioned ☆ tags: modern AU, academia AU, slow-burn, hurt/comfort, friends to lovers ☆ a/n: when i say slow-burn, i MEAN slow burn. be patient please little ducklings...i hope it'll all be worth it ( ˃̣̣̥﹏˂̣̣̥ ✿) this first part is just mostly setting things up, but i promise things'll start moving next chapter~ masterlist | part 2 >>

It was on icy mornings like these that Pieck Finger felt the most homesick. True to its name, Paradis saw ample sunshine through the year, but its winters could have some bite. The bitterest days, while still nowhere close to the depths of the Marleyan winters, reminded her of her childhood on the mainland. On those cold mornings, she recalled exploring the winter markets with Reiner and Annie and Bertholt. The festively decorated storefronts reminded her of buying little Gabi and her friends candies (often with poor Reiner's limited funds, Pieck thought with a wry internal grin).

But life was cruel to Eldians on the mainland. Pieck's fond memories were always colored with the visceral tensions she had felt about keeping her father alive. Spending time with her younger peers had made her feel young too, but Pieck could not help but feel that she had always been a spectator to childhood. How could one be a child while wading through the mire that was the Marleyan healthcare system?

Cold winters reminded her of carefree times with friends, but they equally reminded her of those terrifying times when her father's condition would worsen, when his coughs would keep him awake all night. And no matter how skilled Pieck got at navigating bureaucracy, the silver bullet the pair of them were always missing was simple: money. And Marleyans had a way of keeping it out of the hands of Eldians.

That's why, as much as it had hurt her to leave, Pieck couldn't just look away from the Eldian work-study initiative Paradis Labs offered in conjunction with Trost University. Pieck hated to be seen as a charity case, and she hated leaving her father alone even more. But what she hated the most was being turned away by pretentious Marleyan doctors who looked at her and her father like clods of dirt on their impossibly shiny shoes. The money would be good, and a Master's degree from Trost U certainly wouldn't hurt either. Pieck's father had long insisted that an education was the sharpest weapon in their arsenal, after all. Pieck had always bitten back the retort asking where his higher education had gotten him; in Marley, Eldians could only climb so high.

Despite her misgivings, Pieck had still dutifully completed her undergraduate degree at the tiny local college. She had always been a mediocre student, but she found that her years of helping her father measure out his medications with their rusty kitchen supplies gave her some gifts in the chemistry lab. In any case, her efforts had earned her a spot as an undergraduate research intern with Professor Magath — Professor Magath who, for all his outward sternness, had decided to take her under his wing. Even Pieck was unsure of what potential he saw in her, but she was grateful nonetheless.

Five years after graduating and working as an assistant at the local apothecary (the title, shop, hours, and pay were all equally unglamorous), when Magath told her about the Paradis-Trost scholarship program, she took his recommendation at face value. He had not yet steered her wrong; as much as she complained about her current job, it was leagues better than what she could have ended up doing, and she knew that he had put in a good word for her with the shop owner.

Pieck had still applied in secret; she felt guilty for even entertaining the idea of leaving her father. But secrets only ran so far in the Finger household, and he had soon discovered a pamphlet in the wastepaper bin. Pieck's father had been overjoyed, of course, that his daughter was being considered for such a prestigious role. He was relentless in his encouragement and embraced her with so much pride that she could feel his arms and voice tremble.

That night, however, she had heard him on the phone searching for live-in carers that might be able to squeeze into his budget, and she had cried herself to sleep with guilt. In the cold light of the next morning, she realized that the pay and research stipend she would receive would be more than double her current take-home pay. With room and board covered, she would be able to send considerably more money home than she had ever dreamt of. In the end, Pieck felt, that mattered more than her company or any meager assistance she could provide.

Now, just a few months into the program, Pieck knew that coming had been the right decision objectively. With her money and his combined, Pieck's father had already been able to move into a more spacious apartment, and one that did not have heating cuts or spring leaks. They had even found a nurse to visit him, help administer his medications, and check his overall health. Pieck knew that none of these options would have been open to them had she not accepted her new position in the prosperous Trost. Her brain was certain of it. So why did her heart still feel so empty?

I am selfish to want to be back home, Pieck knew. I am doing so much more good working here than I would have been moping back there.

Part of it was guilt, of course. Pieck was still not entirely used to being in the majority on Paradis. Her whole cohort was full of subjects of Ymir, just like her. Her professors, her bosses at work, even the president of Paradis Labs, were all just like her.

When Pieck first realized she had gone a whole day without someone curling their lip at her in contempt, she was suddenly seized with the need to call her father. Hearing his warm, gentle greeting that always reminded her of a babbling brook, she sobbed until concern leaked into his voice. Back then, Pieck could not properly express why she was crying, but she now understood that she cried for her father, and her late mother, and all her ancestors, all of whom had lived lifetimes without a fraction of the respect she had gotten in one day.

Slowly, with the encouragement of her father, Pieck learned to enjoy her new life with less and less guilt. She even began to befriend some of her peers in the program — at least, as much as she could, given that she had a good five years on most of them. Besides, her experience growing up had been so unique that it made it difficult for her to relate to the ones who were closer in age to her. They were all kind and amenable, however, and that was the most she could ask for.

Life was busy, between courses, research, and work, but it was fulfilling. She was pleased to find that, given the time and space, she did have a passion for learning. She loved unraveling the mysteries held within the atoms and molecules that made up her life, and her loved ones, and even her thoughts.

Pharmaceutical chemistry still held her heart, though; to Pieck, nothing compared to the rush of finally understanding what the Marleyan doctors back home would prescribe, and why. It felt like magic within her fingers. It felt like power, and power had been something sorely missing from her life.

Anyone even remotely interested in any aspect of pharmaceuticals had heard of Professor Zeke Jaeger's lab, TITANLab. A collaboration between Trost U's chemistry department and the Paradis Research Hospital, TITANLab was new, but it was a hot topic among peers, coworkers, and faculty alike. The professor himself already had quite a laundry list of publications to his name (Pieck was not above doing some rigorous Internet stalking). Even Magath had heard of him, and he sounded impressed enough that Pieck knew she had to apply for a position.

One thing led to another, and that was how, this frosty Trost morning, Pieck found herself trudging to campus. It was technically the first day of winter break, but Professor Jaeger had emailed her at 3 in the morning asking her to meet that morning to conduct an "informal interview." Luckily, she had been up already to videochat Annie, Bertholt, and Reiner, and for the first time in her life, she was grateful for Trost and Liberio's vast time difference.

With just under four hours between seeing the email and their unilaterally decided meeting time, Pieck decided she could forego makeup (and a hairbrush) in favor of an extra few minutes of sleep. Jaeger was probably just some eccentric old man, anyway, what with his objectively insane sleep habits; who was she trying to impress? Still, she tried to avoid looking in the mirror before leaving the apartment; she knew she must look a fright — that finals week had really taken it out of her. She just hoped Jaeger wasn't one of those sticklers who prattled on and on about how people in the good old days used to wear cummerbunds and suspenders all over the place and how kids these days just didn't care about making good impressions. She had encountered enough of those types back home, and she was concerned her sleep deprivation might incline her to respond with five fingers.

Enough about my appearance now. Pieck clapped her face with her hands to regain some focus, and reviewed her talking points. Her life, research, and work experience, while probably unorthodox to a well-off Trostian, really did make her a unique asset to the Jaeger lab. She just needed to convince him of that, too.

Soon, Pieck found herself standing outside a door whose brazen placard read "DR. Z. JAEGER." She knocked twice on the door, cringing briefly as she caught a glimpse of her appearance in the window to his office. With her messy hair, haggard eyes, and nose and ears bitten bright red from the morning chill, she certainly looked...distinctive. She sighed and tried to at least smooth down the flyaways that had escaped from her haphazard ponytail.

"Come in," boomed a sonorous voice. Pieck rolled her eyes, a little more contrary than usual in her tired state. What, too good to get the door?

Pieck's life up to that point had, she felt, prepared her for the unexpected. She had never taken anything for granted, and many of the major events in her life occurred by complete chance. As such, she was well accustomed to surprises. She considered them old friends, even.

Opening the door, Pieck felt winded by shock for the first time in years. The images she had of an elderly, balding man with mismatched clothes as varied as his publications disappeared in one fell swoop. The very last thing she had expected, even in her "expect the unexpected" way of life, was to be greeted by someone who was perhaps only five years her senior.

Pieck instantly felt self-conscious about her own age, unable to stop thinking about Zeke Jaeger's many accomplishments she had encountered online. His appearance, impeccably put together, did little to allay her self-consciousness. From his perfectly coiffed blonde locks, to his perfectly pressed cream button-down, to his perfectly pleated tan trousers, to his perfectly plush argyle cashmere sweater vest, everything about him just screamed perfect.

For some reason, this irritated Pieck.

How dare this man look this impeccable at 7:30 in the morning!

She knew, of course, that this knee-jerk reaction stemmed from her own personal insecurities. Being so close in age, it was hard not to notice how strikingly different they seemed in every other way.

Pieck wondered if Dr. Jaeger represented some form of herself that could never possibly exist. If she had not grown up in Liberio, would she be as accomplished and put together as he? She knew little about his background, but she was certain he was from the area; his stylish yet stuffy fashion sense and formal affectation just exuded Trost. Truth be told, Dr. Jaeger's perfect CV and perfect appearance intimidated Pieck. For the moment, however, it was much simpler to feel annoyed.

"Well, Miss...Finger...let's get started." Jaeger's halting way of speech made Pieck realize she had been staring, and she squeaked in embarrassment and sat down in front of his desk abruptly.

Just crush the rest of the interview. You can do it. Think of Dad. Think of Professor Magath. Do NOT, under any circumstances, think about how Jaeger's arms would look if he rolled up his sleeves.

Pieck took a deep breath, composed her thoughts (refusing to even acknowledge that last one), and prepared for the inevitably long interview that lay ahead.

[legguk]

Hi!! So,

it's my ( literal ) first time writing fanfiction, so I'm pretty new at this stuff, but Lady Dimitrescu is all I was able to think about for weeks and I >needed< to do something about it.

( If you want some context, I wrote this thinking “what if Alcina survived?” - Alcina's pov )

———

The fall,

The end of everything you once loved

Ethan Winters.

You woke up... somehow, you woke up. The frigid air hitting your fresh wounds felt like a jolt send by reality, as if one says "you're still alive" -

- and oh how you were starting to hate that feeling.

Laying on the demolished floor of your castle, muscles twitching in pain, mouth open gasping for air... that's how you are, how you will remember yourself from now on. A defeated dragon, a crushed woman, a dead mother.

You should get up, you should let go of your carcass and crawl your way back into the warmth of your home, you should—

—you should be dead, actually. Resting on death's cold embrace along with your daughters.

Daughters.

God, your daughters.

The memories flood your mind with a painful, unbearable reminder; they're gone, dead, crystalized - gone. They're gone. Your lovely daughters, your pride and joy, the main reason you'd open up your eyes in the morning...

...Bela,

Cassandra,

Daniela....

Their names are long cold, not yet forgotten - no, never forgotten - but somewhere else, as they don't belong here anymore; not on your arms, tucking them to bed. Not on your hands, caressing their faces. Not on your lips, kissing their foreheads. Not on your tongue, as you say them.

A raspy scream leaves your throat, it sounds disturbing.

You sob, hot tears trailing down your cheeks and neck, small cries for help find their way into the wind, disappearing with less importance then when they materialized.

You cannot recall for how long you stayed at that very same position, perhaps some hours, perhaps a day, but you are certain that at some point you were overcame by tiredness and collapsed - probably the best to do for now.

xxx

And so, rises the moon and the stars watch upon your limp body, the night howling a merciful wind and singing a melodic song. Grunting, you push yourself up with your elbows, sitting up and facing the sky through the hole you've made on the roof... and the levels above...

A huge carcass sits besides you, it's wings bended on itself and it's big mouth open to whoever would like to have a peek; you probably changed back into your normal body while unconscious... Now that you can see it clearly, you notice the damage that man-thing did to you... by heavens, how were you still alive and...

Oh. The castle. You look forward, taking in the horizon - the stars look exclusively shiny tonight - you breath in, the dusty air causes you to chough a few times. Stretching your neck a bit to see your whole house, you tell yourself it looks.. fine, actually, ignoring the broken windows. The broken windows.

It's cold. You shiver harshly, panting as the air meets your bare back and rumbles through your lungs, making you hug yourself, - you're naked, you just realized - the winter in Romania is truly kind to no one.

Your legs tremble with just the thought of trying to stand on your feet. You don't rush to do it either, let the wintry breeze take in your wounds, make it sting, burn it, freeze it; freeze your body along.

“To die. To die is to live. To live without them, that's torture. To live without their presence, absent of their scents, to not hear them, nor see their faces again, that's worse than death; far, far worse. How could I ever walk into that damned house without the heavenly sounds of their laughs, the tapping of their feet as they walk free, the steadiness of their heartbeats, reminding me that my own still beats.

Beats for them. For them only.

And they're gone.

So who shall my heart beat for? Myself? No, that wouldn't do. I will rip it out from my chest if I must, sacrifice it to any god who may hear me, all so I could spend five more minutes with them. Then I'd die in peace and find them at my arms again at whatever comes after this poor life.

But I'm here.”

You still hold yourself as you stare at a castle's - broken - window, new warm tears hanging the same trail the old and now dry ones did, a silent cry.

Your intrusive thoughts were abruptly cut by a loud noise from the inside of the castle, making you jump up, gathering all your last strengths to stand and walk a few shaky steps closer to home. The more you walked, the louder the noises got; a little rustle became a bang, and your tiptoing became a sprint, you hold yourself as tight as you can, ignoring the bleeding, the cold air spiking your lungs, how insanely fast you heartbeat was. You need to get there, protect the last remnant of them you still have.

The gates felt heavy now, even for you, who would open them with one hand. Where is your strength now? The fearless dragon who'd do anything to protect her house? Perhaps she died on that fall, and now all there's left is a shadow of what you were one day.

With much pain, you open the big doors, leading to the comfort of your house; you don't get in, you throw yourself in. The warm atmosphere engulfed you like a summer kiss on a winter storm, all you needed to ground yourself to reality for now. Grabbing some sheets laying over an old counter, you wrap yourself in it – oh, that's gonna get soaked in blood, but that's not of your concern now – moving incredibly fast for someone as hurt as yourself, you follow the continuous sounds that could not mean something good. The main doors are open, the cellar is unlocked as well, that idiotic man-thing couldn't even close the doors once he finished slaughtering your home? Imbecile.

You stand at the library's door now, suddenly frozen; you know what happened in there... do you really want to get in? Are you truly ready to face it again? Maybe you should take a step back and walk away, it would be the most logical decision to take now.

But what is logic when the heart screams? What is the brain for once your emotions take the best of you? You can't walk away. Put some honor on your name. Save the last bit of your daughter that fate is still conceiving you. Your chest rises and falls completely out of coordination, your fists close around the fabric involving your body; get ready, you're going in; gather the last bit of courage you have inside yourself and blast these doors.

And so you do.

You bring those pieces of wood to the ground, the only barrier between you and the reality you couldn't accept; a guttural growl forms in your chest as you see a lycan approach your child's crystalized body; you're blind with ire, sorrow, protectorship - you name it - and it makes you shout at the top of your lungs as you dilacerate the filthy beasts you'd bat your eye at. A bloody trail of corpses marks your way through the castle grounds, your claws dripping with fresh sanguine fluid - which you can't tell if it's from the creatures or from yourself - the crimson path follows you all the way to the other wing of mansion like a spirit who must haunt you for eternity.

You scream like a feral animal, blood soaking the once white cloth around your form; the scream becomes a shriek, which descends to a yelp, ending as a furious cry. You can feel the anger leaving you, like the waters of a waterfall; explosive, big portions of water falling into a numb, deaden lake. Hopefully those waters will carry you with them, you shall fall and sink at a anesthetizing lagoon.

You kneel, eyes closed, eyebrows frowned; a loud sigh fills the deafening silence in the air, your mind is blank – better, your mind is red, scarlet red mixed with black, ire and grief. Slowly, your head lower itself so you're facing the floor.

The big Lady Dimitrescu,

kneeling on a pool of blood, defeated.

•

“Lady Dimitrescu!”

Who..? The voice was so far yet so close, you try your best to focus on the direction of the calls but your nerves just won't cooperate.

“Lady!”

Who would be calling for you? Is your mind playing tricks on you now? And since when you were laying on the floor? Too many questions for too little answers. You try to stand up, but a sharp pain on your side made you cry out and fall on your back, face knotted in pain – perhaps your adrenaline rush was keeping you from feeling what was really happening with your body, and now you feel like you're betraying yourself for that.

A small figure approaches you in a fast pace, causing you to unleash your claws one more time and snarl at the not-so-possible threat; you were hurt. Vulnerable. Letting someone close was the last thing you wanted now. The humanoid thing backs away a few steps with your aggressive reaction, hands on their chest, visibly afraid – even though your vision is quite blurry, you identify their expression: scared, desperate, sorrowful – they call out once more, almost shouting.

“Please, Lady Dimitrescu, let me help!”

Ah... Help... The now clearer feminine voice washes over you - a wave of compassion - as if hope has found its way to your house again. Well, it better go away again, or you'll drag it out yourself.

“Out.” was all that left your lips, your intense gaze locking with hers, a silent yet not so discrete warning; although you had only said one word, it was well understood by the woman, who stepped away, eyes still meeting yours, a dreadful cast hang on her face.

Still, she didn't left.

Is that girl testing her luck? It can only be. Once again you warn her: “Leave. I will not repeat myself.”

Her posture stiffens, after a moment of silence she looks at the door, truly wondering about leaving or not; her body turns around, her knuckles going white from how hard she was grabbing the fabric on her chest – she's conflicted. But why? Who is she, after all? – A long, defeated sigh leaves her, as if she knows there is no choice left.

“Allow me to help.” A failed effort on trying to sound confident; her voice is full of tears and her tone is oscillating – it makes you wonder if she has been crying – The human walks towards you, trying not to make any eye contact; you can't stand on your feet, you left hand is pressed on your injured side, the other is open and directing your now extended nails towards her.

Oh how funny it is, no?

The predator being cornered by the prey. The dragon being trapped by the rabbit. How ridiculous it is.

Her extremely shaky hands hang in front of her, trying to say she won't hurt you – oh if she only knew it's going to be the other way round. – One step closer.. Her lips and chin tremble; Another. Your claws grow bigger, eyes peering through her soul; another step, your eyebrows frown, her eyes are teary. The last step - your blood is boiling hot, your nerves on edge; you are still the predator. - a slicing sound and a half-scream saturate the air for a millisecond, just for silence to overfill it once more. Red splashes over the room again, on your face, on your chest, but mostly on the floor, where the girl was thrown at.

An agonizing scream leaves her throat - what a miracle, she remains alive - both of her hands cover her face, blood spilling all over her; what a sight, you would most definitely enjoy this very much on another situation. She cries out in despair, making you face the ceiling and close your eyes, a tired look on your face – you just want all this to end, you don't have any more patience for this. You want to crawl back into your bed and starve, you want to destroy this place, make it abandoned ruins of what one day was a home; you want to kill that damned sickening man-thing, kill this foolish girl for perturbing your grieving, and then yourself.

The woman captures your attention once again, she is kneeling, her body facing yours, her right hand presses her ripped face, the other makes its slow way up to you, although she is trembling, she manages to keep her hand steady enough to hand you a little green flask with a yellow-y label; You look closer, 'treatment disinfectant' it says... Oh you can only be joking. You feel like slaughtering the girl right this instant, but takes in a deep breath and holds the flask, her hand immediately falling along with her body. Is she dead? No, her slow yet consistent breathing exclaims that she is still alive – you honestly find it a bit offensive – You should, but you cannot bring yourself to finish the human; you should end her suffering, but now she caught your attention; and besides, she wants to help, doesn't she? then the price she'll pay is staying alive.

———

hahaaa I'm so nervous about posting this,,, ,

and yes! It is a alcina x maiden fic! I do plan it to be slow burn, and if some you liked it and read it till here, please like and/or reblog and I'll post chapter 2!

( posted on Ao3! Name: “The woman in your castle” )

( chapter 2 posted!! )

[queenoftheworldisdead]

Help wanted

Summery: Boarding house with the occasional unwanted tenant.

Note: I don’t think Arvin is dark in this, but it might be for other people.

Warning: non-con/dub con, dark theme, choking, slight spanking, cream pie

Grey Arvin Russell x Reader; Dark Lee Bodecker x Reader

🛎

The bell rung on the door of your boarding house. Drying your hands with a dish rag you got yourself ready to meet whoever it was coming through the door. When you crossed through the archway you were shocked still.

He had a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, his clothes looked all greased up, the hat that hid a thick tuft of hair peaked out looked like it had seen better days.

His type weren't known for being on this side of town so you figured he was either new to town or looking for someone.

You welcomed him with a soft smile and gave your name.

"How can I help you today sir?"

"Hello Ma'am." He said politely, tipping his hat slightly at you. His thick country twang confirming the former. "I saw the help wanted sign out side. Y'all still hiring?"

"Um..Y-yeah... I need a handy man, job includes free room, and board, but I won't just hire anybody though. There is a washer in the basement, if you fix one of them the jobs yours."

🛎

Waddling to the basement with your Daddy's old toolbox, the heavy rusty thing knocked at your knees each step. He jogged over to you, taking the kit from your grasp and you thank him for it.

"The left one broke down a month ago and the other I'm guessing couldn't handle the over use. Dryers work just fine though."

Before he could reply you heard the door bell ring again. You excused yourself and left him to work.

"I'm coming, just a minute!" You shout down the hall as you hurried.

🛎

"Sorry it took so long."

"Saul right Ma'am" he said rising from the floor. You watched from the door as he twisted a dial. The hum of the machine filled the growing awkward silence.

"Well aren't you something! I guess that means your hired."

He lifted his hat to smooth back stray strands of hair, his shy smile hid as he looked down to the floor.

🛎

"Your room's on the third floor. Has a bed and a little sitting place. It's really small just enough room to lay your head really." The sound of foot-steps coming down the stairs halted you. Your eyes watch their back disappear into the night, until he cleared his throat bringing your attention back.

"That'll do just fine Ma'am." Something about his southern accent made your heart flutter. He picked up his duffel, throwing the strap over his shoulder as you dug out your ledger.

"Just down there is the supper table. I cook breakfast and dinner. You can eat in your room if you like, a lot of them do."  You explained as you watch him sign the book. Arvin Russell it read.

He adjusted his strap as you talked, his deep brown eyes made it hard for you to keep his gaze, making you fidget nervously in place. "Most folks are gone during the day so I don't make lunch, but if you like no problem just give me a holler. Bath rooms are at the end of each hall."

Digging in your desk you find the master keys and a list of things that needed to be fixed. His fingers grazed yours lightly in the transfer, Arvin's touch sent a ripple of heat up to your face. He flipped through the wrinkled papers, scanning over the chores with a wrinkled brow.

"S-sorry to put so much on you, but when my daddy got sick things got out of hand and I never been one for fixing things."

"No problem Ma'am."

🛎

During the day you kept busy. Scrubbing windows and mopping the halls of each floor. Arvin crossed paths with you on occasion. Gently brushing past you with his tools as he headed to his next assignment.

The door to Odis', one of the tents, room was left wide open when you walked by. Curious you glanced in, catching sight of Arvin lifting his shirt. Your legs stop moving as you watched him wipe away beads of sweat from his brow with the hem. You couldn't stop yourself from ogling his well toned exposed stomach.

The clanking of the dust pan hitting the floor caught his attention. Your face burn with embarrassment when he found you standing outside the room. Panicked you quickly picked up the pan and rushed off to the ground floor.

🛎

You heard Arvin call your name. "Yeah?" You replied weakly still embarrassed.

*Relax he isn't thinking about you. Probably just thinks your a clumsy dits.

He came halfway down the stairs, looking down at you from the banister. "You got a minute? I need a little help" he asked politely.

"Oh sure... Uh sure" you reply looking up at him. Arvin abandoned his cap, his dark hair sticking to his forehead, curling from sweat. More sweat pooled on his shirt, the dampness helped stick the fabric to his lean figure.

Following him up the stairs he led you to a room on the third floor. In the corner of the room there was a large metal pipe leaning against the wall.

You watched as Arvin lifted the heavy pipe, angling it vertically in position.

"Can you hold this?" he called over his shoulder.

Walking over you grabbed it and Arvin moved to get behind you. He took your hands and placed them along the pipe as you steadied yourself to hold it still while it slightly wobbled.

"OK hold still just like that." He bent over beside you, digging into the tool box that rested on the floor. When he rose, Arvin stayed close behind you. You could feel the heat coming off him, he smelled like sweat and after shave. Your hands felt sweaty as you felt rattled a bit by his closeness.

The pipe shifted a bit, you tried nudging it slightly, but couldn't get it back in place.

"Stay steady" his breath tickled your ear, you gasped making him chuckle lightly. "Just like that" he moved the pipe back into place, pushing into your butt when he stepped closer. "Just hold right... here." He placed a hand on your hip and you tensed. His fingers lightly squeezed your softness. You had to fight hard to bring your mind out of the gutter, he just needed your help, nothing more, the spot between your thighs thought otherwise.

With his arms raised above you, Arvin tightened the nuts to secure the metal tube. You swallowed thickly when you heard him grunt as he forced the wrench to move. Looking over to your right you spied his exposed arms. His muscle flexing as he moved.

"Almost done" he said to you, pushing you almost flush to the steel, bumping you gently with each twist of the wrench. You only nod, unable to conjure words to speak properly. Through the cheap fabric of your dress you felt something hard poke at you through his jeans.

*Stomp it now get your mind out of the gutter.

You don't know what had gotten into you lately. First staring at him like a creeper now thinking about his manhood. Maybe its about time you started going back to church you thought to yourself. Cause right now it felt like the devil was leading you to temptation.

When Arvin stepped back you had to choke down a whimper from the loss of his feel. Pressing your lips together you prayed he aint hear you.

Tapping a hand on your shoulder you turn to look at him. "All done." He smiled at you, your hands release the pipe and you backed away.

"Thanks Ma'am."

"You're welcome Arvin" You smiled shyly then rushed off back to your desk.

🛎

No matter how hard your days were the nights were by far the worst. Lying in bed you felt the mattress dip. The fear of the impending figure behind you prickled your skin.

Your eyes squeezed tightly shut as you tried to force yourself to sleep. Holding your breath in a dumb attempt to force yourself to pass out. The blanket covering you pulled away and you felt water fall from your closed eyes.

🛎

Propping your head on your hands you leaned on your desk. Your eyes drooped as you zoned out, looking into space.

"You alright Ma'am?" Arvin startled you as he walked down the stairs.

"I couldn't sleep." You stand up and stretch, yawning a bit. He walked closer to your desk, dressed in his work pants shirt.

"Try some warm milk. Used to help me." He passed by your desk, walking down the hall with tool kit in had to the washers. The old machines acting up again since last time he fixed them.

"Oh Arvin" you shouted at him before he passed through the door. "Um.. can I add something to your list. No worries if you can't get it done today, but I would much appreciate it if you could."

Placing the box down by the laundry door he walked back over, digging the sheet from his back pocket. You grabbed a pen hopeful it was a task he wouldn't mind sorting right away.

"If you can't fix the lock today no problem. I will just go sleep in the attic." You spoke casually as he slipped you the paper to write on. He read over your assignment and you watched as his lips made a hard line.

"I locked myself out of my room, didn't want to wake you to get the spare, sorry. Now I done made more work for you" you laughed, but their was no humor in it. His features softened and you hoped he wouldn't press the issue.

Pushing the paper back to him, you bid him a due and turn to face away to pretend to make a call. When you heard him walk away you let out a breath.

🛎

Arvin was a saint among men. You don't know where he found the money, but he added a chain lock to your door. You smiled at the shiny gold. Sliding on the chain and the bottom lock you prepared for bed.

Laying in bed the thought of the extra lock helped sooth your nerve as you slipped into sleep.

You felt an uncomfortable lump at your back rousing you awake. Your eyes shot open and a hand covered your mouth before you could scream out.

"You think your smart, putting that chain on that door" the beer on his breath hit your nose. Your tears soaked his hand as he held you.

You shake your head 'no' repeatedly in reply. He was still dressed in his work clothes as he laid next to you. The sound of his belt jingling made the tears fall harder.

"I told your daddy I would look out for you. How am I gonna do that if you lock the door?"

Lee, a local cop, only came around when his wife was either on the mends or she just flat out kicked him out. Your father had offered the man a free bed whenever he needed. His way of thanking him for keeping the neighborhood safe.

Lee pushed up your night gown and tsked when he felt your panties. The hand on your mouth slipped down your neck and you blubbered out your apologizes. He hated panties, too much work he called it. "What I told you about these?" he grumbled, forcing the fabric down.

"I-i'm sorry I thought my monthlies were coming on." You sniffed. You tried hard not to cry, you just hopped he would squeeze hard enough to make you pass out.

You heard him spit in his hand, he bumped into your back as he lubed himself up. You yelped when he smacked your ass hard, the sudden sting of pain loosening your locked legs.

"Yea you said that last week. I aint forget girl." He shoved himself inside after he found your opening. "Fucking bitch. I run the house gawd damn it!" Lee was mad at his wife agin. What ever his spite with her, you were paying for it. "Not gonna tell me what to do. Fucking bitch." He growled, panting heavily as he pumped.

You jolted with each thrust, no matter how many times Lee did it, it never got easier.

"Please." You panted desperately. "Please don't come in me" you choked out, his hand tightening his grip around your throat. You had been lucky so far, but you knew it was only a matter of time before your luck ran out.

Lee didn't like back talk, this was his show and you were just here for the ride. Pushing you completely flat you grip the fabric of the sheets. Lifting your ass as he rose to his knees he fucked into you harder. You cried out unable to adjust to his lengthen. He chuckled darkly at your pain, slamming into you repeatedly with a punishing rhythm.

He cursed your name. Reminded you of your place as he came deep in you. His seed filling your cunt as you pressed your head into the mattress and cried.

He slipped out of the bed. His pants once again jingling as he fixed himself up and headed out the door.

🛎

It was that time of the month again.

Whenever he shouted he spit. It was disgusting. You had given him chance after chance, but he used them all. "I'm sorry Tommy if you don't have the rent by Thursday you are going to have to leave."

"Fuck you bitch you let that boy stay here rent free!"  He shouted. Trying to make sure tent knew.

"He works here. He earns he keep."

"Then let me earn mine? or give me another week." He barked. His tone more of a demand than a request.

Sighing you hung your head low. Rubbing your temple with one hand you hugged your stomach with the other. First of the month was the worst. Tents ducked and dodged. Begged and pleaded or straight up demand just to not pay rent.

"Next Friday Tommy... That's the last time you hear me." You try to sound strong, but you knew he didn't give a shit as long as he won. "If you aint got it then, then I'm changing the locks and putting your stuff on the street."

He slammed his door in your face and you turned on your heels headed to the next delinquent.

"You alright Ma'am?" Straight ahead, Arvin poked out from the bathroom. You had to fight yourself from looking down at his lower half. In your peripheral you could see he was just in a towel that hung around his waist.

His wet hair seemed to curl under the towel on his head. Strands sticking to his forehead, his face still damp from the shower.

"Umm yeah. Uh just rents due and folks get a little uppity around this time of the month." You dry chuckle turning your eyes up at the ceiling. Fighting yourself from venturing further.

You couldn't tell if it was the steam that came from the bathroom or you. Whenever he was close, your body would react. The heat would turn up making you sweat.

"Well alright then. You have a good night Ma'am."

🛎

*Bang Bang Bang

"Tommy!" You bang again. "Tommy! I will give you to the count of three. If you don't open this door and pay up. I am coming in and kicking you out!" You huffed tapping a foot.

"Ma'am?"

"Morning Arvin. Sorry did I wake you?"

"No was working down the hall."

"Tommy, skipped out on rent I think." Taking a deep breath you lifted your master key ring and unlocked the door. When you peered inside the room was a mess, no sign of Tommy.

Arvin followed you in side, with a hand on your hip you groaned. The amount of clean up you would have to do to ready it for a new tenant would take all day.

"Arvin can you change the lock on the door. I hate doing this, but I gotta kick him out"

"Sure thing ma'am"

As you turn to leave you over at Arvin who was still assessing the damage to the room. "Oh and can you possibly stay close. If he comes around I might need your help."

Arvin only nodded in response as you took your leave.

🛎

Tommy didn't come back that day or the next. Putting up a sign you thought that you could clean up the room a bit, before the weekend. With the storm you figured not to many people would be coming around anyway.

Taking up a few boxes you get to tossing. One box you would keep in the addict. Somethings were just to hard to throw away sometimes, but a good chunk would go.

Thunder bashed down filling the room with a blinding white light. You yelped loudly bringing the sound of feet rushing down your way.

"You alright Ma'am?" Arvin looked in the room worried.

"Sorry Arvin, it’s just the storm. Lightening makes me a bit skittish sorry." You apologize as you get back to clearing the room.

"Well I am finished with my list for today, would you mind if I trouble you for some company?"

"U-um sure" you tried to fight off the smile.

His lips curled as he walked in the room. The instant he crossed the door frame you heard shouting coming from down stairs. When the voice made itself more clear you frowned.

"Oh uh sorry.. I need to tend to that" you say softly. With your head low you walked past him.

🛎

Lee was wet and agitated. "Fucking bitch had the nerve to accuse me of drinking again." He spat while you sat waiting on the bed. "I aint touch a drop today" he said smugly.

You looked at your feet as he undressed in front of you. The sound of a siren blared loudly from out side, Lee turned and squinted at the sound. "Shit!" He stopped undressing and ran out.

Getting up from the bed you grabbed your robe and peered out the hall. The front door was open and Lee wasn't there. The rain still coming down hard, blew in through the open door so you walked bare foot to close it and see if he had really gone. His car was gone that was for sure and as you looked into the rain it seemed he had disappeared too. You exhaled in relief, backed away and closed the entrance.

"Ma'am?" Arvin called to you out of breath.

"Shit!" You gasped, turning to face him. Your heart bashed in your chest as you stared at him crazily. He was soaked to the bone. "Your gonna catch a cold walking around like that" you scolded tightening your robe.

"Do you have any clean towels?" You asked, but you turn back to look at the door. Hoping that Lee wouldn't suddenly comeback.

"I think so.. I know I need to do laundry, not too good at it so I've been holding it off."

"Well, I don't normally do this, but if you like I can mix yours with mine. I don't have enough clothes to justify using all that water anyway."you shrugged.

"I don't want to put you out" he stepped closer to you. "The way his clothes clung to him you had to try hard not to stare.

"N-no trouble. Um wait here I'll give you a towel just in case." You leave him and head back into your room. Digging in your cabinet for the towels. When you turned around again Arvin stood in your living room, looking around your meager abode. "I know it aint much, but at least I got my own bathroom" you chuckled.

When he stepped closer and you had to hold yourself together. Arvin dragged his teeth over his bottom lip while his eyes fell to the opening in your rope.

"S-sorry" your face felt on fire, embarrassed you looked down to your feet. You held out the towel and closed the robe with the other. Arvin’s hand lifted your chin and your eyes went wild.

His lips felt so soft. You just wanted to kiss them all day. Arvin's arms wrapped around your waist and you wanted to melt into him.

Arvin turned you around and backed you up until you both fell backwards onto the bed. Arvin rested comfortably between your thighs while his manhood pressed on your mound. You didn’t know if it were his jeans or your nature making you go wet, but either way you welcomed it.

You gasped when he sucked on your neck, kissing the spot after pulling off. Arvin ground his hips into you making the warmth between your legs soak with desperation.

Holding himself above you, you forced yourself to finally look back at him without shying away. He smirked down at you as he peeled off his top, the wet garment hit the floor hard. His muscles moved and tightened as he freed his shaft. Biting your bottom lips you hummed when he rubbed the tip hard against your slit then lining himself up. Arvin pressed his weight down as he pushed inside slowly. You moaned his name at his fullness. The bed frame squeaked as he rocked.

Kissing you again swallowing your moans, you wrap your legs around his back urging him deeper. Ever the gentleman he obliged.

🛎

*Bang Bang Bang

The furious jiggling and banging was most definitely Lee. You were surprised he hadn't popped the lock as usual, but it was only a matter of time before he got through.

Arvin must not have noticed so you slapped his chest. Pushing him off, but he wouldn't stop. Instead kissing you again as you tried to speak.

"Arvin please, that's Lee... he's.. cop" you spoke on his lips, but your words meant nothing.

Arvin's eye were darkened with lust. You tried to spin away, but he hooked your legs keeping you there, fucking you with his slow pace. He was splitting your mind in two. You wanted to cum so desperately, but your reason told you that Lee wouldn't take kindly to this.

Arvin continued to rock into you as Lee screamed at the door.  Your back arched when Arvin took your nipple in his mouth.

"That's it. That's my girl. Come for me." He mumbled over your nipple. Licking the areola and sucking it again, you came around him, squeezing his cock making him hum with approval.

The banging on your bedroom wall brought your high down fast. "I will shoot through this gawd damn wall if you don't let me in!" Lee threatened. You looked at Arvin with panic in your eye. Arvin kissed you gently again as Lee screamed on. You were terrified, you hoped you could explain Arvin's presence away as a maintenance emergency, but before you could properly forma a though he pulled up his pants as you fixed yourself. Arvin didn't stop or look back as you called out to him. Paying you no mind as he opened the door and walked out.

The sound in the hall was so loud you thought lightening had broke through the roof. You rushed out of your room and found Lee out cold, with a pool growing around his perimeter. You looked at Arvin, the young man unconcerned as he began dragging the cop into your room by his feet.

"Get a bucket and a mop" he commanded, the pistol tucked deep in his pants. Without a word you followed his orders.

🛎

[maplecornia]

chapter 11

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 2.89K

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: romance | slice of life | fluff | angst | bts x female!reader | ot7

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: You watched them from the sidelines ever since you were a young teenage girl. Now you’re grown up, they’ve returned after 2 long years and everything has changed. What happens when you pull back the mask and find the darkness within? What happens when you see that they’re broken?

𝔞/𝔫: i super DUPER love this chapter, it's a BIG climax for the story

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: cliffhangers | angst | fluff | slight mentions of self hatred | depression | mental health illness | self harm | occurs in the year 2024 | set in a timeline where BTS went to the military together | slight language

tags: @kookaine |@fangirl125reader |@kookiebbyxx |@taradevonne

Taehyung didn't mean to fall asleep.

When RM mentioned he was working on a new demo during practice today, he just had to listen to it. Namjoon, however, being the perfectionist he is, told Tae he couldn't listen in just yet. There was a certain point in the sound that he wasn't confident and still had to fix. Taehyung dropped it (after multiple moments of begging and pleading) and tried to forget about it for the rest of the day.

However, what with you showing up at the studio and his incessant curiosity, he just had to hear Namjoons song. It was like dangling a piece of bacon in front of a dog's nose, he just had to have a taste.

He planned to sneak in, sneak out, and have nobody know the wiser. Of course, like so many things, this did not go according to plan.

Unbeknownst to him, he entered the studio a few moments after you and RM hurried out of there, from the opposite side.

He listened to the song, before trying to find what RM could have possibly thought was bad about it.

Soon enough, the beautiful track had lulled him into a peaceful slumber.

Now, his head rests on his shoulder, as he slumps in the chair.

His face is slack, peaceful, his eyes fluttering as he dreams sweet dreams. His long eyelashes cast dark shadows over his cheeks, his hair fluttering with each breath. Thick and soft despite the natural curl that occurred after dancing for so long. He still has the slick shine that sweat leaves behind, turning his pure skin smooth and glowing.

He looks so beautiful, almost as perfect as the strokes an artist may create in a portrait.

When you enter the studio, having just finished cleaning Mon Studio, he is in the same state.

He utters a soft snore, but not one you'd be able to hear from behind glass. This time, you entered on the recording side.

You look around, awestruck once more by the beauty the room provides to your curious and hungry eyes.

Letting the door close in a small crack behind you, you set down your satchel, quickly cleaning up whatever trash you can find in the room. As you scan the instruments, you find that they are all fairly new, not even requiring a shiny new polish. Nevertheless, you grab a cloth sitting on a stool near the door and begin to carefully clean every instrument.

As you touch each one, the movement is a soft, caressing one. One that reminds you of the way your mother would use to run her hand through your hair as she brushed it each night.

You smile at the memory, realizing just how much you miss her, just how much her presence filled the holes in your heart.

Suddenly realizing how silent it is in the room, you set down the rag for a moment before turning and pulling out your phone. Pulling up your playlist, you press play, filling the world with music. As it turns it brighter, dancing with vibrant colors, you lean your head back and smile. After a moment, you turn back to your work, humming softly to yourself without even realizing it.

Your hums find their way into Taehyung's mind, his dreams. His lips curve into a grin at the sound, one of peace and tranquility as he falls deeper and deeper into his subconsciousness.

It takes you only a few minutes to clean the room.

You sigh, satisfied, as you set down the last instrument in its place, turning around to survey the room. You smile at your work, enjoying the good job you have done, having given this room the order and beauty it deserves.

After all, it provides the world with so much beauty on its own.

As you scan the room, your eyes fall on something behind you, the one thing you haven't touched yet.

The microphone.

It waits there, hovering in the air just waiting for someone to use it, someone to create beautiful music with it.

You walk towards it, slowly, trying to make sure it's not just a dream, that this is real.

As you look on, your eyes catch sight of your reflection in the mirror behind the microphone. It stands right in front of you, waiting, almost beckoning for you to use it. For you to give in to your desire.

For you to sing.

Setting down the rag, almost decidedly, you rush to the door on the far left of the room. There's a large rectangular window located to the right of the door and instead of going through the trouble of opening the door, you peer through it instead. There’s no one there, just a dark hallway stretching on forever.

Satisfied, and your heart beginning to pound with excitement, you rush to the right door, the one which you entered through. You find the door left open at a crack, but as there’s no one coming or going in this hallway either, you recklessly shut it. It bounces softly, the latch not catching and creaking slowly to a small crack once more.

Adrenaline coursing through your veins, you grab the stool you were once using to polish the instruments with and set it expertly in front of the microphone.

Glancing up from positioning it, your eyes meet a darker reflection, reminding you that there is a studio behind the recording area.

The same one where you and Namjoon were working not too long ago.

Swallowing hard, you walk over to the one-sided glass until you rest your hand securely on it, the glass cool underneath your fingertips, only a few inches away. Leaning forward, you peer into the other half of the studio, cupping your hands around your eyes so that you can see any figures in the room, if not their faces.

What you don't know, however, is that Taehyung, who sleeps on the other side, has slumped so far down in the black chair that you wouldn't be able to see him anyway.

When you find no trace of anyone there, you knock on the glass, trying to see if anyone hiding will react, before scanning the other half of the room.

At the knock, Taehyung lets out a small cry. Losing his precarious balance, he falls out of his chair crashing to the floor in surprise.

In your peripherals, you see a slight movement that causes your eyes to flashover. You're too late though, he’s already fallen on the ground, and you can only see the vacant chair which he was in a mere second ago. Satisfied, you pull away, grinning excitedly at your expression in the one-sided glass.

Just as Taehyung rises to his feet, groaning and rubbing the back of his head, he sees you. Eyes widening, he takes a startled step backward. As he does, he slips on the chair and falls, the chair spinning off him in a great tour of the room.

“What the….” he begins, as he pulls himself up once more.

He watches as you let out a cute squeal, jumping a bit at the thought of being able to sing in a recording studio. He lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head.

“What is she doing?”

Bouncing back to the seat, you settle in the stool, clearing your throat. Tapping the microphone softly, you smile at the satisfying echoing sound it makes. Before you do anything you pull out your phone, searching for a song to sing.

As one particular song catches your eye, you freeze, your smile fading a bit.

It’s the same song that you used to listen to…

...with him by your side.

It was your song, the song which labeled you as lovers, the song which was the summary of your relationship.

Now, it is just the song that reminds you of your pain.

It is the lie of what you once thought was true.

Almost out of spite, you play it.

Taehyung can see it as your expression falls, changing into something dark. He steps forward, but the soundboard prevents him from going much further. Blinking in slight surprise, he snaps out of his reverie, clearing his throat as he looks up at you once more.

The expression passes, however, and you take the headphones lying on the microphone securing them around your ears. You clear your throat, leaning forward, your eyes downcast. Once the intro ends, and at the sound of your cue, you open your mouth and begin to sing.

It's been so long.

So long since you've even trusted yourself to experience the joys which come with music. The feeling it inspires in your heart, the emotions you experience deep in your soul, the way it clears and heals your mind.

You close your eyes pouring your heart into the song.

Every bottled-up emotion.

Every little drop of pain.

As the song moves onward, you find yourself shaking, the emotions becoming too much for you to bear. Your very voice drips with them; with pain, sorrow, and loneliness. Every demon which has plagued you for as long as you can remember seems to be reborn as you sing, the melody awakening emotions that you thought were locked safely away.

It takes all you have not to break down.

You have to be strong.

You have to fight back.

You have to be okay.

Taehyung witnesses this all as it happens before him.

He finds himself conflicted just listening to you.

He wants to walk in, comfort you, somehow make that expression on your face disappear. At the same time, he knows that nothing he can do will help, it will only make things worse.

So he stands, frozen, unsure of what to do, unsure of how to respond, entranced by you and your voice. The way it rises and falls, the harmonies it creates, the way it makes the lyrics sound as though they are some other form of an angelic language.

At this moment, he can feel what you feel.

He can see what you see.

The two of you are connected through the world that you have created with your voice.

And he doesn't want to look away.

Unbeknownst to you, however, is that someone else is about to intrude on your connection.

Jungkook hums to himself as he walks down the empty hallway.

He’s just returning from a vocal lesson, and absentmindedly looks through the BigHit Instagram.

He smiles at ARMY comments and fanbases, always happy to see how the fans are doing.

However, as he turns a corner, he can hear a familiar sound.

The sound of someone manipulating their voice to fit the notes and keys on a score sheet. The sound of music being born through the vocal cords of one's voice. As soon as he hears the sound, he stops in his tracks, entranced by the sweet voice.

It's unlike any he's ever heard.

Soft yet loud, high yet low, holding vibrato, but not always there.

He quickly pockets his phone, turning the corner and finding one of the recording studio doors open. Trying his hardest not to make a sound, he rushes forward on light feet, stopping when he reaches the cracked door. Sure enough, this is the source of the voice, the sound of it clear and distinct.

He leans against the wall beside the crack and rests his head back, closing his eyes as he soaks in the sound of the voice.

What he doesn't know, however, is that the voice belongs to you.

In the back of his mind, as he listens to your voice for a longer period, he finds himself longing to know who it belongs to.

Half of him wants to burst into the room, catch you in the act, and confront you. However, another part of him, the much more sensible part, tells him that he has no right to do that.

Like Taehyung, he’s trapped in the sweet melody of your voice. He's fallen into the net and has become connected to it, to you.

The three of you stand there, unbeknownst of the other's presence, each one of you connected by a voice, and the sweet cacophony of music.

However, all things must end, and so does your song.

As your voice lilts to the closing notes of the song, the silence that follows is almost serene.

The three of you are frozen.

You recovering and on the verge of broken tears.

Jungkook left hanging on the resounding note.

Taehyung transfixed by the mere presence of you.

At the same time, they murmur three different words.

“Who are you?”

You take a deep breath after you finish, trying to gain your composure as you raise your shaky hands to your ears and remove the headphones.

You had no idea singing again would be so difficult.

You clear your throat as you stand, moving the stool to the side once more and gathering your belongings, a new song beginning to play.

You take out your earbuds and secure them in your ears before texting RM, notifying him that you have finished and are heading home.

As you turn to exit out of the door, Taehyung notices that you're about to leave and panics. He scrambles to gather his stuff, trying to catch you before you walk out once more, but the computer screen catches his eye.

There’s a new track there.

Crinkling his brow in confusion, he inserts the earbuds he was using to listen to Namjoon's new track back in his eardrums and plays the recording. There are about 10 minutes of dead silence so he skips ahead to where the sound picks up. His eyes widen as he recognizes the voice, and why wouldn't he?

He had heard it only a few moments ago.

After Taehyung closed out of Namjoon's track, he accidentally started a new recording, turning the microphone on before he fell asleep. So while you were singing, it kept the sample and saved it permanently.

Looking up, Tae watches you as you leave.

Groaning, he tears his eyes away from you, desperately tearing through the drawers for a flash drive. Finding one in the drawer beneath the soundboard, he inserts it into the computer, uploading the song to the USB. As it slowly begins to export, he bites his lip worriedly, watching you through the window as you absentmindedly wander down the hallway towards the exit.

“Come on…..come on!” he curses under his breath, watching the little green line fill the rectangular box.

On the other side of the glass, Jungkook bites his lip, trying to gain the courage to walk into the studio and try to meet you. Taking a deep breath, he bursts into the studio...

And is greeted with an empty studio.

As he looks around in confusion, he finds that the other door to the recording area is open. Putting two and two together, he can't help but feel disappointed, unable to see the one whose voice was able to penetrate his heart. He walks to the door almost forlornly, peering out into the empty hallway.

You're long gone, already on an elevator ride back down to the lobby.

As Jungkook peers down the left end of the hallway, Taehyung bursts out of the second entrance to the studio and darts down the right end. Startled by the commotion, Jungkook immediately turns around, just barely seeing the figure of Kim Taehyung rounding the corner before he’s gone.

“Taehyung…?” Jungkook murmurs under his breath, wondering what Tae possibly could have been doing in the studio.

Did he hear the voice?

Jungkook wants to follow him, find out what he knows.

But a greater part encourages him to step inside of the studio Tae had just exited from.

Taehyung left it in disarray, chasing after you. Drawers left open, the chairs scattered across the room, and the computer left on.

Jungkook rolls his eyes at Tae’s mess, moving to turn off the computer, but the track catches his eye.

Brain working fast, he realizes that this must be your song. Biting his bottom lip, he gives in to his desire and moves to the beginning of the track before playing it. Your voice invades his heart and mind, chasing every dark thought away. He smiles at the sound of it, somehow making him feel as though he’s not alone.

Not anymore.

Spying the flash drive drawer, he takes one. Almost on a whim, he inserts it and watches as it begins the uploading process. Pulling out his phone, he texts a quick message to BangPD, before pocketing it once more and receiving his prize. Pulling away from the computer, he hides your voice safely in a hidden file on the computer in case he loses his copy, before shutting it down. Turning away, he peers at the flash drive held between his fingers.

“I’m going to find you.” He murmurs, smiling a bit to himself with foreshadowed excitement.

“One day, I’ll hear you sing again.”

With that promise, he pockets the flash drive and hurries out of the studio, receiving a call from BangPD.

“Yes, sir.” He replies, his voice growing fainter and fainter as he walks further away from the studio.

“There’s something you need to hear.”

𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢: the tension is hiiiiiiiiiiigh

chapter 12 here

check the Infinite Stars masterlist for more chapters

check my BTS masterlist for other BTS content

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[funkwhistle]

Come sit

Pairing: Micah Bell x GN!Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: You’re cold at night and someone can help you warm up 

(phot is mine - don’t reupload without credit)

It was getting cold at camp this evening, you'd settled at your new location - while it was further south than Colter, the evening still brought temperatures you'd never seen in Blackwater. You pulled your coat further around you, debating whether or not to go over to the fire; everyone else was asleep now, and the fire was so warm, it wouldn't matter you weren't fully dressed.

Carefully, you pushed yourself off your roll mat, tiptoeing across camp to find the fire, guided by the light beaming through tents as you went. In the air, the faint smell of the evening's dinner made you hungry again, but you ignored this, praying not to step on a stick and alert anyone of what you were doing. It was strange, being the only one awake at camp, usually, it would be buzzing with life, and yet now all you could hear were the peaceful snores and movements of them in their sleep.

Just as you were about to walk around the Dutch's tent to the fire, you heard someone move - not in their sleep, but a distinctive sound of someone tapping their boot on the ground. Peering around the corner, you caught a glimpse of someone sat by the fire, back turned to you, polishing an incredibly shiny revolver. you couldn't make out who it was - either Arthur, Micah or possibly Hosea in a large coat. This last thought made you smile a little as you scanned around camp, finding Hosea to be asleep.

Praying that the figure by the fire was Arthur, you turned back around, pulling your coat around yourself to maintain a scrap of dignity, about to walk to the warmth of the fire when you heard them speak.

“Well, come on then darlin, come sit,”

The gruff voice that spoke was not one of the gentle giant you loved, rather of his more ratty opposite - Micah Bell. He was sat, straddling one of the logs in order to look at you, the gun he'd been cleaning neatly back in its holster. The fire threw shadows across his face, but you could tell he was smirking again, enjoying the fact you'd neglected to dress in anything other than your undergarments and a coat.

“You just gonna stand there?” Micah was still looking at you expectantly, jerking his head to indicate one of the other logs. There was no excuse which would justify you leaving, and it was cold, so you walked over slowly, sitting on the far side of the fire, away from him. As soon as you sat by the fire, you felt its warmth on your lower legs, helping with the uncontrollable shivering you'd been doing for the past hour.

You both sat there quietly for a while, Micah brought out his knife and began to polish it, scraping shapes into the log now and again to test its sharpness. The flames from the fire were dwindling, the flames which once leapt nearly to the height of your knee now barely could climb the log it was burning. It was colder now, but you tried your best not to shiver, poking the flames with a stick in a vain attempt to tend to the fire. Your efforts were worthless, as, due to your stoking, the fire gave up entirely, reducing itself to a pile of glowing embers.

Sighing exasperatedly, you curled up on your log, clutching your legs to your chest, your dignity forgotten in favour of keeping yourself warm, although you did try and cover yourself a little. Micah did so much as lookup, however, the knife had more of his attention; he seemed fixated with getting a little bit of mud off the handle.

“Are you cold again?” he asked, and you nodded a little, your teeth threatening to chatter if you spoke. Micah was looking at you now, his steely eyes focussed on yours, taking in your shivering position and chattering teeth. Shoving his knife into his belt, he stood up, kicking the fire as he passed it on his way over to you. Instinctively, you moved away, giving him space to sit on the log beside you without touching you at all. At your actions, he laughed a little, brushing the mud from your boots off the seat before sitting down beside you.

“Come here,” Micah asked, opening his arms a little to encourage you to move closer to him. Even from where you were sitting, you could feel his warmth, even through all layers of jackets he was wearing. You regarded him briefly, not knowing if he was kidding or not, and not wanting to risk being teased by the rest of camp; usually, you'd keep your distance from him, intimidated by his quick wit and harsh comments, and yet this man was offering to warm you up. Ignoring the alarm bells in your mind which told you this was a big joke, you shuffled closer to him, until you were beside him, your leg pressing against his.

“See? I don't bite darlin,” he joked, pulling you so you were sat on his lap, his arms wrapped around your middle, holding you close to him. Slowly, once you were settled, he moved so his breath was ghosting over your ear, then whispered “Unless you want me to?” To this, you hit him gently on the chest, slightly disgusted by his remark, but your heart had caught an interest in his phrase, and you found yourself blushing at the images that had appeared in your mind.

Micah pretended not to notice this, but upon seeing your flushed face, he couldn't help but smile a little, shifting slightly so he could rest his head on yours. You moved so you could put your head onto his chest, hearing the pounding of his heart and the softness of his grip as he held you. The warmth he provided was much warmer than the fire had given you, but he also provided a sense of comfort you didn't know you were missing.

you didn't know how long the pair of you sat there, your eyes kept drifting shut, and you were convinced Micah was asleep, his breathing heaving and occasionally he'd let out what sounded like a snore. but you didn't mind, it was warm here, and you wanted to treasure this moment, as soon enough the sun would be up and you have to move.

Carefully you moved so you could sit more comfortably, making Micah groan a little as he woke up.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you,” you apologized, looking up at him and stopping your movements.

“It's fine darlin, just watch out,” his voice was deeper than usual, and his eyes were tinted with the remains of sleep as you realised what he was speaking about. You cocked an eyebrow at him, trying to refrain from letting out a giggle at his predicament, watching as the corners of his lips turned into a smile at your expression - you were still only wearing your thin undergarments. With a little more caution, you continued to move so you were sat more upright, glancing up at him when you were comfortable.

“Happy now?” he asked quietly, grinning a little at you. You nodded happily, resting your chin on his shoulder to look at the first hints of sunrise on the horizon, wrapping your arms around his neck to secure yourself a little better on his lap. He grunted at little at your movements, twisting his head and moving his hands around your waist.

“Alright there?” you said, knowing full well he wasn't - you could feel him against your thigh. It was his turn to be speechless, as he just nodded, gritting his teeth and turning his head away from yours in order not to show you what he was thinking.

“Micah-” you started, concerned you'd offended him in some way. Before you could ask anything, he had turned around to face you again, moving his hand so it was cupping your face, tilting your chin so that you were closer to his face.

“Tell me now-” you cut him off, placing a light kiss on his lips before pulling away from him. Both of you looked at each other with a little surprise, shocked you'd done that, before he pulled your face closer to him again, connecting your lips with his, making your confused heart leap out of your chest in happiness.

A/N: This is my first time writing Micah (some of you have turned me into a bit of a Micah simp lately), and this was written & edited in a rush when I had the idea, so it might contain some dodgy spelling etc - anyway hope you liked it :)

[emily-the-fae]

Sound of a Heartbeat

Part 2. Edge of the Water

Part 1 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

Okay so apparently this piece has formed some more or less coherent storyline and I just had to write it down...well at least try to. So if anyone enjoyed part one and is in to hear the further turn of events, here we go.

Pairing: Dracula x OC

Warnings: um, none again, suicidal mood a little bit if that counts

Watch out for the side effects of slowly dying by vampire bites (and no, it's surprisingly NOT turning into vampire)

***

Shari woke up in a strangely lit place. Woke up - big word, rather jumped into consciousness with total clarity as to what she is and what happened to her and total frustration as to where she may be located. It was definitely not the place she left. The forest around her seemed to glow light blue, fireflies dancing in the air with their bluish sparks. She didn't feel cold nor warm, all the pain seemed to leave her body together with most of her senses - Shari felt light, almost weightless and when she looked upon herself, she saw that her own body was glowing the same bluish color as everything around her.

She stood up hesitantly.  She had no idea what the place was - the campfire was gone and the forest around was nothing like the spot she stayed at before. What was this? A magic trick? A hallucination? Was she dead? Shari saw particularly bright light behind the trees and decided to walk in its direction - perhaps it was a trap, perhaps she's dead and in purgatory and there are punishing beasts waiting to see her. Shari could never be sure, but felt surprisingly at peace even in her current state, strangely at peace.

The source of light turned out to be a lake. A long and seemingly deep lake that ripped its way through the forest, no end of it seen any near, it might also be seashore, although she doubted that due to abscence of waves - there were fireflies dancing above it and the water seemed crystal clear, even though she couldn't see far below the surface because of the light emanating from it. Shari felt the urge to go closer - to dip her feet in the shiny water, almost felt the need for it, but something restricted her from doing so. She could hear whispers too - as if there were hushed voices coming from the depth of water and that scared her off quite a lot: whatever that thing was, it was definitely not as simple as it tried to look. Her witching life has taught her - if something looks nice and calls out to you, but is also magical: in most cases it wants you to be its lunch. A rule that definitely worked in practice.

The healer stopped still, then sat down on the ground abruptly, feeling awkward in her position; but she needed time to think. This all seemed unexplainably odd - the water, the indecisiveness, the whole place - it seemed like a vague dream even though she felt completely awake. Dracula said it was going to be like sleeping. But by Dracula's deeds she should already be dead. This did not look like afterlife.

Suddenly Shari sensed, rather than saw a movement behind her, ready to jump to her feet and defend herself the best she could, she turned her head to face the source of it. It was a woman. Shari could swear she wasn't there before - a young woman stared at her, standing some distance away. Her beautiful, intelligent face looked somewhat concerned, her long blonde hair thrown over her shoulder, she was glowing the same bluish light as everything else around them. Shari recognised her, very vaguely, but she did remember: Adrian had shown her portraits before.

- Lisa? You're Lisa, right? Lisa Tepes, I know you! - Shari wanted to jump up, but the woman held her back with a gentle gesture of her hand. Lisa - or whoever it was that looked like her - floated rather than walked closer, then sat down next to a very confused and excited Shari, giving her a reassuring smile. There were a few moments of silence, while her guest studied her face intently.

- You are beautiful, you know, - Lisa smiled warmly.

- Wh-What? I mean thanks, but why? I mean... Umm what kind of a conversation starter is that? Are you?... Are we?... Am I not dead or...? - Shari was startled to say the least.

- Yes, you are... Heading in the direction of death, though your friends and specifically my son are very insistent upon the opposite. I believe, you'll have to live up to their expectations and survive now... although it all depends on you, really.

A pause. Shari nodded slowly, taking in her words.

- But-but hasn't your husband killed me? I thought he was definitely going to finish me off...

- He was going to, I'm sure. But he didn't have enough time to do so... or will, for that matter, - the woman turned somewhat remorseful. - I hope he didn't hurt you too much.

- He... tried not to, at least in the end. That's a pity he didn't succeed. I almost felt grateful to him for doing so, - Shari turned away to look at the lake. - It wasn't going to end well anyway...I wasn't going to end well.

- Don't. It's probaly his poison wearing off on your mind, but stilll.Just don't say that. Value what you have while it's still in you. You have to live. Trust me, it's not as pleasant as it seems to be when you get to the other side.

- Why excatly? - a chuckle. - You know, I'm not far from death anyway, it is going to be pain and waiting for me. To go like that is the best way now, I am afraid. Going to be there soon, why not strip myself of needless agony, - she hesitated for a moment. - You are actually dead by the way. If you say I'm still alive, how are we even talking?

- I am not quite sure I can explain this properly, - Lisa frowned, her gaze drifting off to the lake. - The simplest way to place it is: sometimes the people who die are not yet ready to leave this world - and then they stay between life and death, like...

- Essentially, you're telling me that you're a ghost, - Shari felt a bit sceptical.

- Essentially, yes.

- And why am I seeing you out of all people?

- Because I wanted so?

- Why? To tell me to survive?

- Yes.

Shari arched an eyebrow, looking at Lisa with mistrust.

- I don't like this simple tone.

- You are not going to like it, - she hesitated, then continued. - You have to save Wallachia, - the words left her mouth so easy and obvious, that Shari burst out laughing.

- Oh no-no-no, now I'm definitely hallucinating. Is this some fairy tale for children or something? Listen here, you ghost of Christmas past, I'm no kind of warrior-saviour person. I'm not going or willing to catch up to the pathos of "you are the chosen one" or whatever it is that they say in those situations. I believe you confuse me with your son, madam, - Lisa listened silently to her monologue with an amused smile on her face; it was obvious that the reaction was quite expected. When Shari finished, the ghost carried on:

- That is exactly why you have to do it. You are no chosen one. But you are one who has at least a chance. Adrain doesn't. He thinks he does, everybody thinks he does, but in reality it will only go worse if he works out his plan. I know... I don't need you to save all of Wallachia after all, - Lisa paused after that sentence and Shari looked up confused, trying to catch her meaning. -  Just one person - and that will do the rest, - the woman was very serious, and Shari suddenly understood this conversation was somehow real, even if happening in a dream realm.

- And who might that be? - she asked carefully, in a hushed voice.

- Dracula.

Shari actually laughed.  Loudly. Not quite rolling on the ground, but close to doing so. Lisa looked at her, with a raised eyebrow and calmly waited for the small hysteric to finish.

- Done yet? - were her only words, when Shari seemed to calm down a little bit.

- Listen, ok, I get it, you want to protect your husband, but...

- You don't understand! It's not only about protecting him - it's about stopping this war. Peacefully. It's about stopping Adrian from killing his own father - you need to persuade Dracula to call back his army, - Lisa was looking at her earnestly, determination in her stare. Shari only huffed.

- You... How do you imagine me do it? Persuade him? Are you insane? He would tear me apart and finish what he started, he didn't listen to Adrian, he actually almost killed Adrian, his own son. Why would he listen to me now?

- That is quite the point. He would listen, because it's you, - Lisa leaned back, smiling at the confusion on the girl's face.

- Oh yes, and what's so special about me? - Shari replied sarcastically.

- Nothing.

- Ouch.

- Apart from the fact that he pities you, - sensing that she was about to be interrupted, she quickly added. - I've watched both him and Adrian, thinking of a way to figure this out and stop them from tearing at each other's throats, and you suddenly came as the most valid solution I can think of for the time being.

- He... "pities" me? - Shari rubbed her neck, raising her eyebrow. Sure. He pities her so much; she flinched slightly at the memory of their encounter.

- Don't go witty. He does. He was merciful to you, he almost didn't want to kill you, that's why he didn't succeed. You're the first human after my death that he feels this way to... You are a person he did not know before all of this, you evoke his pity and you seem to have the skill to negotiate your way into people's good side and out of conflicts. You may actually have something in you to change his mind.

- That's not how it works, he...!

- You remind him of me. You may persuade him that there are people worth fighting for... That there is a life worth fighting for, - her tone was growing louder with each word, getting more insistent.

- Wait a minute, so you want me what? To replace you? Remind him of you and tell him you wouldn't want it? Tell him your final will, you think that'll stop him? - Shari jumped to her feet, backing away.

- I want you to go to find him. To reassure him, show him pity, show empathy. You will remind him of me. And he will come back to understanding that humanity is not all bad, that some people are still worth keeping alive. And that awar against them is not worth his own or our son's lives, - Lisa stood up too, sensing the tension rise and stepped closer once again. Shari did not like it. She didn't just die heroically to come back and search for yet another heroic and probably much more painful death.

- No, Lisa, I-I see what you want me to... But I'm not you! You see, I'm not you! I can't just go and drag - who? Dracula-the-vampire-king-that-just-killed-me - out of his murderous depression! - she backed away.

- If you had a choice: you can surrender or you can come back to fighting with a new way...

- Yes, I think if I had any kind of choice and if I survived, I would keep away from trouble and try to hold onto my final bits of life for as long as possible, thank you very much! - Shari argued loudly.

- You have to do it, if you live, Shari. It is the only way to protect you and... - Lisa made another step towards her.

- And die a much more painful death, yeah, thanks, great, - Shari almost hissed. Her attention suddenly turned to the pool of water behind her. So that was the whole trick, why Lisa appeared to hold her back from dying. - Oh. I know how this works. The lake is the entrance. My decision if I do or don't die, right?

- Precisely, though it's not really you, who decides. You touch the water - you either leave or wake up. Can't be sure until you do... - Lisa answered. - But before you decide and step in I want you to think. Shari, you have to fight for it, for yourself annd for Adrian, for all the people out there you've been trying to help!

- I am not your son, - she answered barely audible, but firm.

- Shari! - Lisa stepped yet again closer.

- No! I've had my bunch of suffering. I'm not going back in just because you believe I am good for the fight, I'm not! I'm selfish, okay? I did not ask for this, - she paused, glancing at the water. - Whatever it is, let it be. If I die - I die, right? - Shari turned away decisively and with a moment of hesitation made a small step forward, into the water, not looking back at the ghost.

She awaited darkness or light, hell or heaven or emptiness and quiet. Whatever escape was about to come, she threw herself at its mercy.

[vinyls-and-valentines]

tell me about destroys

@serpentski asked: how much is your destroya a deity vs a false idol?

Destroya is quintessentially Danger Day's deity of Hope and War, but also has a reputation as a protector of fighters and runaways. Destroya the massive droid half-buried not far from the Nest is, well, a massive droid that's half-buried not far from the Nest and not quite.

See, if you think of human souls as those tiny chip batteries, then a deity is something closer to a really fucking big truck battery, and it just so happened that somewhere around fuck-knows-when, Helium Wars, Better Living was looking for a really really big battery to power their shiny new toy- a device to end all wars under the dutiful command of the company. It also just so happened that as they tried to find something strong enough to power their doombringer, they accidentally ended up (temporarily) trapping Destroya inside the robot's body.

It was rather quite confusing for Destroya to be in a position where Destroya could act instead of just watch as things enfold, but it quickly became obvious that even with a body Destroya was bound to taking orders, be it because of the way said body was built or simply because of Destroya's age (which was 1-3 years old or so? at that point). Destroya didn't mind, at first because Better Living seemed well-intentioned enough and Destroya still could choose how to carry out an order, so altogether more good done than harm, right?

And that's when BL/i gave Destroya the one order Destroya couldn't and wouldn't carry out: Destroy the Zones, which were still very much inhabited. Still very much suburban towns despite the deep trenches that were dug in the ground once separating Zone 6 and 7. Scientists tried countless times to overwrite this unusual resistance, but ultimately there was nothing wrong with the circuitry, so they simply threw in the towel- ordered Destroya the robot to march off into the distance until it ran out of charge and Destroya did just that.

It's the bombs that gave the Helium War its name and the Outer Zones their signature radiation patches that bury Destroya's body buried and return Destroya to Destroya's little watching dimension where Destroya can't to much than try to reach out in abstract bits and pieces of memories clipped together to whomever needs a warning or perhaps even just a little nudge in the right direction.

Anyways, to wrap up my unnecessarily long rant: Destroya is an actual deity, though not in the same Destroya's followers make Destroya out to be (read: robot saviour who will free them all). For Destroya to come even close to that there's 3 things Destroya would need: belief, a rather ridiculous surge of power coursing through Destroya's robot body and an order

[d-noona]

MAKE OVER

Chapter 2: Librarian the seductress

Jung Hoseok x Reader

Reader as Kang Hyeonji

SUMMARY: When Kang Hyeonji transformed herself into a striking redhead, the entire male population of Seoul stood up and took notice. But her make over was for Jung Hoseok’s benefit alone. He began to show interest in the new look but not in the way she wanted. Suddenly he was over-protective, perhaps a little jealous. It seemed that the idea of having a relationship with her couldn’t be further from his mind. The girl however wants more. So it was time for an ultimatum. If Hoseok didn’t want Hyeonji to lose her virginity to another admirer, he had no option but to make love to her himself.

Hyeonji was standing at the library computer, running the wand over the first of the huge pile of returned books, when something caught her eye. Something bright and red. She glanced up through the glass door to see a shiny red car turning its brand-new nose into the empty parking space right outside the library. It brought no flash of recognition, despite being a memorable model. Not quite a sports car, it was stills stylish and expensive looking. A newcomer to the area, no doubt. Not knowing that this particular library branch was closed to the public on Wednesday morning. Hyeonji was about to return to the job at hand when the driver's door opened and a heart-jolting familiar head of hair came into view, gleaming under the summer sun.

Hoseok.

Her heart leaped. So he had remembered her birthday. He'd even come in person. She could hardly believe it. Her happiness knew no bounds as she watched him close the car and stride up onto the pavement and across to the front doors. He smiled at her through the grass as he tapped on the wooden frame.

"Can't they see were closed?" Choon Hee complained from where she was sitting at her desk, flipping through one of the new publisher catalogs. She could not see who was knocking. If she had, she would not be so anxious to send the unwanted visitor away. Min Choon Hee might be happily married to her husband Min Yoongi with three children, but she still had an eye for a good-looking man.

Hoseok was just that –and more. At twenty five, he was in his physical prime, his elegant body in perfect tune with his handsome face. His height was no joke either, his lean frame made him look even taller, and did his choice of clothing. In winter they range from soft suede numbers to tweedy sports coats. In summer he chose linen or lightweight wool in neutral colors, and teamed them with cool T-shirts. Ties rarely graced his neck. In fact, Hyeonji had never seen Hoseok dressed formally.

Today he was wearing stonewashed blue jeans, a navy shirt and a loose cream jacket with sleeves pushed up to his elbows. His black hair was longer than when she'd seen him last, falling to his ears from its side parting and flopping with its usual rakish charm across his high forehead. He looked slightly wind-blown and utterly gorgeous. Hyeonji immediately put her "moving on" decision on hold for a good seven years. Thirty, she decided a new, was soon enough to give up all hope. The fact that Hoseok was standing where he was at this very moment had to give her some hope. Fancy him abandoning his precious business on a working day to drive this long from Seoul to Gwangju, just to see her on her birthday.

"For pity's sake!" Choon Hee snapped when Hoseok knocked a second time. "Can't they read? The library times are on the darned door!"

"It's someone I know," Hyeonji said. "I'll just go let him in." Choon Hee jumped from her sit "But it's almost..." The sight of Hoseok's handsome-self stopped her in her tracks. "Mmm, yes by all means let him in," she murmured, primping her glossy black straight hair as Hyeonji hurried out from behind the reception desk across the functional grey carpet. Hyeonji wasn't worried that Hoseok would find Choon Hee attractive. As pretty as she was, she was a married woman. Hoseok believed in keeping his sex life simple.

"One girl at a time," he'd once confided in Hyeonji. "And never anyone else's."

It was surprisingly conservative attitude in this day and age, especially coming from a man who looked like Hoseok, who had women throwing themselves at him all the time. He had a similarly strict attitude to marriage. Only one per lifetime, which was why he'd always say he would not bother with marriage till he was in his thirties and financially secure. He didn't want to make a mistake in finding his partner.

"In the meantime," he joked to her one day, "I'm having a lot of fun auditioning possible future candidates for the position of Mrs. Jung Hoseok." It had always terrified Hyeonji that one of those future candidates might capture Hoseok's love as well as his lust. Fortunately, that hadn't happened, and Hyeonji had taken heart from the failure of his various very beautiful girlfriends to last more than a few months. But his latest was a bit of a worry. A statuesque brunette who went by the name Tinashe, she'd already lasted six months –a record for Hoseok. He'd even brought her home with him for Christmas break, during which time Hyeonji had many opportunities to see Tinashe's assets. What she could do for a bikini was incomparable.

But I'm not going to think about Tinashe right now, Hyeonji told herself as she turned the key and swept the open door. Today is my birthday and my very best friend has come to celebrate it with me. "Hoseok!" she exclaimed, smiling up into his dancing brown eyes. "Hi there, Hyeonji. Sorry to interrupt. I know you're working but I simply had to show you my new car. Picked it up this morning at one of those dealerships just the other side of town and couldn't resist taking it for a spin. Before I knew it I was on the express way headed here. I thought what the hell Hoseok? You haven't had a day off in ages. Drive up to Gwangju and visit your Mom."

He smiled a sheepish smile, showing perfect teeth and a charming dimple. "It wasn't till I pulled up into the driveway that I remembered today is her golf day. Took all the wind out of my sails, I can tell you. But no way was I going back to Seoul without showing someone. Naturally, I thought of you. So...what do you think?" and he waved in the direction of the car. "It's one of the new Mazda Eunos 800s. The Miller Cycle version. Great red, isn't it?" he finished.

Every drop of joy drained out of Hyeonji. Hoseok hadn't come for her birthday. He'd come to show her a pathetic car. Worse, she hadn't even been his first choice of viewer. She'd run a very poor second. As usual. Something hard curled around her heart, setting in concrete and trapping her love for him deep inside. Hyeonji determined it would never see the light of day again. She glanced coldly over at the offending vehicle and shrugged dismissively. "If you've seen one red car Hoseok," she said coolly, "You've seen them all."

There was no doubt he was taken aback by the icy indifference of her tone, for his eyebrows shot up and he stared at her with bewilderment in his beautiful brown eyes. Hyeonji was disgusted with herself for instantly feeling guilty. So much for her first foray into hating Hoseok, but she was determined not to weaken this time. Enough was enough.

"You know me Hoseok," she went on brusquely. "I've never been a car person."

"That's because you've never learned to drive, Hyeonji. You'd appreciate cars more if you were ever behind the wheel. Come on. Come for a short spin with me." He actually took her arm and began propelling her across the pavement. "Hobi!" she protested, wrenching her arm away from his hold and planting her sensible shoes firmly on the pavement. "I can't. I'm at work."

"But surely the library's not even open," he argued. "Certainly they won't miss you for a couple of minutes?"

"That's beside the point," she said sternly. "You might be your own boss, Hoseok, and come and go as you please, but most people can't, me included. Besides, it's almost morning tea and I have to be here for that." The rest of the staff had all chipped in to buy her a cake. It was a tradition in the library whenever one of them had a birthday. No way was she going to run out on her real friends to indulge Hobi's ego.

"I don't see why," he said stubbornly.

No you wouldn't...

Hyeonji thought mutinously, and toyed with telling him, just so he could feel terrible for a full ten seconds. The decision was taken out of her hand when Choon Hee popped her head out the door. "Come on birthday girl. Namjoon and the new girlfriend Han Byeol brought your cake along and all twenty-three candles are alight and waiting. So get in here and do the honors. You can bring your hunk of a friend, if you like," she added, looking Hoseok up and down with saucily admiring eyes.

"We've got more than enough cake for an extra mouth" Hyeonji relished Hoseok's groan. To give him some credit he did look suitably apologetic once Choon Hee appeared. "God, Hyeonji, I had no idea it was your birthday. There I was, blabbering away about my new car, and all the time you must be thinking how damned selfish I was being." Frankly, she was enjoying his guilt. It had a deliciously soothing effect on her damaged pride. "That's all right Hobi. I'm used to your not remembering my birthday." He winced anew. "Don't make me feel any more rotten that I already do." Hyeonji almost gave in. it was awfully hard to stay mad at Hoseok. He didn't mean to be selfish. He was, unfortunately, the product of a doting mother and far too many God given talents. Brains and beauty did not make for a modest, self-effacing kind of guy.

Hoseok could be generous and charming when he set his mind to it, but in the main he was a self-absorbed individual who rarely saw beyond end of his own classically shaped nose. God know why I love him so much, Hyeonji though irritably. But then her eyes travelled slowly from his perfect face down over his perfect body, and every female cell she owned clamored to be noticed back.

But the only expression in his eyes when he looked down at her was remorse. When he forcibly linked arms with her, she glared her frustration up to him. "Don't be mad at me, Hyeonji" he said with disarming softness. "I'm not mad at you," she returned stiffly.

"Oh, yes, you are. And you have every right to be. But I'll make it you to you tonight, if you'll let me" says the man who is desperately clinging to your arms. "Tonight?" she echoed far too weakly. "Yes, tonight," he said firmly. "But for now I think your colleagues are waiting for you to blow out those twenty-three candles."

With typical Hoseok confidence he steered her into the library and proceeded to charm everyone in the place. It annoyed Hyeonji that he gave her openly curious workmates the impression that he was a boyfriend of sorts. He even extracted her promise in Choon Hee's goggle-eyed presence to go out with him later that evening. She initially refused dinner, no way was she going to disappoint her mother, but grudgingly agreed to after-dinner coffee somewhere.

Hyeonji told herself afterwards that she would never have agreed to go out with him at all if she'd been alone with him. She would have sent him on his way with a flea in his ear. She didn't need his pity, or guilt. The moment his new red Mazda roared of up the road back in the direction of Seoul, Choon Hee and Han Byeol settled their dryly knowing eyes on her.

"Well you're a dark horse, Hyeonji, aren't you?" Choon Hee said as they walked together back into the library. "I've always thought of you as a quiet little thing and all this time you had something like that on the side." Han Byeol giggled along with Choon Hee. Hyeonji silently cursed Hoseok. All he ever caused her was trouble and heartache. "Hoseok's mother lives next door," she explained with more calm than she was feeling. "I've known Hobi for years. We're just good friends."

"Oh sure. He drove all the way up from Seoul to wish you a happy birthday because you're just good friends. You know what? I'll bet you're one of those girls who go home from the office at night, and perform one of those ten-second transformations." Choon Hee laughed while Han Byeol agreeing to every word she said. "You know the type. Off come the glasses and the straight laced clothes. Down comes the hair. On goes the sexy gear, make-up, and perfume, and –WHAM! Instant meat in heat!"

Hyeonji had to laugh. It would take more than seconds to transform her. "You can laugh," Han Byeol scoffed. "But I'm no one's fool. And you're far prettier than you pretend to be. I always did wonder why you never seemed to be on the lookout for a fella. I was beginning to think all sorts of things till glamour boy arrived on the scene today. He gave me a case of instant heat, I can tell you. And I saw the way you looked at him when you didn't think anyone was noticing. You've got it bad. I know the signs. So why haven't I heard of this paragon perfection before? Why all the mystery and secrecy? Is he married? A womanizer? A bad boy? Look, you can trust me with your deep dark secrets" she whispered. "I won't tell anyone."

Hyeonji laughed a second time. "There's nothing deep or dark to tell. I repeat... we're just good friends. As I said before Hobi used to live next door. We went to school together, though not in the same class. He was two years ahead of me."

"Well, there's nothing remotely boy-next-door about him anymore" came Choon Hee's dry remark. "He has city written all over him. Not to mention success." Hyeonji and Han Byeol nodded to this "I am well aware of that, believe me. I'm not blind, but there's never been any romance between us, and there never will be. He has a steady girlfriend. Goes by the name of Tinashe."

"Tinashe," Choon Hee repeated, her nose wrinkling. "Don't tell me. She's stunning with boobs to die for, hair down to her waist and legs up to her armpits?" Hyeonji startled. "You know her?"

"Nope. Just guessed. Men like your Hoseok always seem to have girls like that on their arm" Choon Hee smirks. "He isn't my Hoseok" Hyeonji said tightly. "But you like him to be, don't you?" Han Byeol added.

Hyeonji opened her mouth to deny it. But her tongue betrayed her when a thickness claimed it. Tears pricked at her back of her eyes.

Her Hoseok...

What a concept. What an improbable, impossible, inconceivable, unachievable concept. To keep clinging to it was not only demeaning to her personally but depressing in the extreme. "There was a time when I did" she said at last, her tone clipped and cold. "But not anymore. I have better things to do with my life than pine for the impossible."

"Impossible? Why do you say impossible?" as Han Byeol curiously asked. "For pity's sake Han Byeol, you've seen him and you too Choon. You guys said so yourself men like Hoseok go for girls like Tinashe, not mousy little things like me."

"You'd be far from mousy if you made the best of yourself. To be frank, Hyeonji, a little make-up wouldn't go astray. And an occasional visit to the hairdresser." Hyeonji stiffened, despite the criticism striking home. "I wouldn't want a man who didn't love me for myself" CHoon Hee said sharply. "That's rubbish and you know it! I'm a married lady and I still have to work hard to keep my man. Now you listen to me, Hyeonji and you too Han Byeol for your sake and Namjoon's." Choon Hee turns to face Hyeonji "Now, when Hoseok comes to take you out tonight. Surprise him."

"Surprise him?" Hyeonji asked dryly feeling nervous about Choon Hee's suggestion. "Yes, leave your hair down. Slap some make-up on." Han Byeol added "Use a sexy perfume. Wear something which shows off that great little figure of yours." Choon Hee nodded in approval.

For a split second, Hyeonji was buoyed up by Choon Hee and Han Byeol's compliments on her figure. But then she thought of Tinashe's tall, voluptuous, sex-bomb body and her momentary high was totally deflated.

"I don't have any sexy perfume," she murmured dispiritedly. She didn't own much make-up either. But she wasn't about to admit that. Choon Hee gave her an exasperated glare. "Then buy some at the mall during your lunch hour!" Their library was in a small regional center which boasted a few shops, a well-stocked chemist shop included. Hyeonji declined telling CHoon Hee and Han Byeol that she only had five dollars in her purse. Sexy perfume was expensive, and she'd rather wear nothing than douse herself in a cheap scent.

Hyeonji actually contemplating asking her friends to lend her some money and reality returned with a rush. She could wear more make-up than a Japanese geisha and drown herself in the most exotic expensive perfume in the world and it would not make Hoseok fall in love with her. "Thank you for your advice ladies," she said with a return to common sense "but I really rather just be myself. Now I'd better get back to these books." Hyeonji resumed checking in the returns, blocking her mind to everything but the thought that at least she would not starve to death tonight after her mother's special birthday meal. Hoseok could buy her something delicious and creamy to go with her after-dinner coffee.

Hyeonji gave no more thought to the girl's advice about make-up and perfume, till she arrived home late that afternoon and opened her carryall to find a paper parcel sitting on top of her house keys. It contained a small but expensive-looking bottle of perfume.

And a note. "Happy birthday darling!" Choon Hee and Han Byeol had written with their usual extravagant hand writing. "This always worked for me. Well, sometimes. Still, what have you got to lose? Go for it! We chipped in so don't worry about it. We love you. Go get your man!"

Hyeonji sprayed a tiny burst of perfume onto her wrist and lifted it to her nose. It was a wonderfully sensual smell, its heavy musk perfume bringing images of satin sheets and naked bodies and untold unknown delights. Hyeonji shook her head. To wear such a scent in Hoseok's presence would be the ultimate torture, and let's face it, Hyeonji told herself, wearing perfume, no matter how sensual, isn't about to turn Hoseok into some kind of sex-crazed lunatic. With a girl like Tinashe in tow, no doubt he has all the sex he can handle. Hyeonji glanced at the perfume's name and laughed.

SEDUCTRESS

Good Lord. It would've been a powerful potion to turn her into that. It was a nice thought of Choon Hee and Han Byeol's, but a total waste of time and money. So was her advice. For Hyeonji she believed she did have something to lose. Her self-respect, and possibly Hoseok's friendship.

Chapter 03

Masterlist