#knife wielding bastard

[ndyp-thot]

Well look what day it is. And who better would celebrate it.

Our lil knife wielder, Psy.

Animation by: Dennis Buara

[knifefightandchill]

RESIDENT EVIL 4 (2023)

You haven't changed a damn bit.

[mentattea]

sometimes i like to think that even though Feyd and Piter never got along well, they sort of existed in a precarious truce, involving training and breakroom gossip. "being the baron harkonnen's youngest nephew will have you 16 years old with a ??? year old deranged human PC like damn where tf Piter at today"

[sege-h]

I haven’t seen anyone talk about this and I can’t stop thinking about it so

Mimic is being his usual bastard self with his new cat form alone

Note the hair/head shape, the muzzle shape, long tail and the chest marking (and even the scarf a little bit)

He’s basing this form on his old teammate that he, y’know, betrayed and killed

BASTARD SUPREME

[spaceandfiction]

I waited all season for the women to let the leash off their murderous impulses and instead they had a tender conversation about letting go and giving the other person what she wants...where is my toxic yuri

[ubeb0nes]

Sevika x Fem!Bar Owner!Reader - The One Who Pours the Drinks

Pt. 3 (can be read as standalone)

༇ ༇ ༇

Summary: After their (very homosexually-charged) estrangement a few weeks ago, Angel tries to bury the sour Sevika left in her heart. Sevika does the same, dismissing any meaning to be found in how she still makes sure to walk by the Five-Copper Furnace at least twice a week.

But one thing remains true: No one threatens the one who pours the drinks.

a/n: i'm a dirty filthy liar, i finished pt. 3 for bar owner reader before i even started my warmup for writing sevika's character LMFAO. will still do that prompt at some point!!

w/c: like 4.3k ish

༇ ༇ ༇

The world doesn’t stop spinning because of one person.

It’s a sentiment you were forced to be fond of in your life before the one you had now. People had always come and gone, it was the nature of the crime life, and it was certainly the nature of the Zaun one too. To stop and mourn for too long was to die.

And you had a business to run.

You did your best to count your lucky stars every night, reminding yourself as you wiped down the bar that there were other people. Plenty of women with smokey laughs and eyes like the moon. You were a good-looking bastard, you’d find the next one. You had all the time in the world now, away from the strife that used to follow you like a shadow.

Pay no mind to how you always swiped harder at the bar as you had these thoughts, slamming tumblers and plates into their places beneath the bar with extra vigor. Nor to how Zaun was about as different from Bilgewater as steel to iron.

Sevika’s men and their presence started to dwindle with hers, albeit more slowly; many of them almost seemed hesitant, apologetic. You caught one of them on your way into the bar to open it for the evening.

“I’m real sorry, Angel,” he’d said.

“I’m sure she’s got other work for you,” you said, waving him off as if it was- and indeed, it was- nothing personal. You only had problems with one ex-frequent of your bar. You weren’t even all that inclined to include the heavy muscle she brought in with her on the last visit.

“Always other work where the boss is concerned,” he affirmed, “But… this has been one of the better gigs.” You stayed static outside your bar for a moment as he walked away, your key still stuck in the lock.

It’s not like you needed protection in the first place, you were more than capable. Not that Sevika knew that. You grumbled to yourself as you organized the prep area behind the bar; you hadn’t had to give much mind to security the past several months, Sevika handled the matter in its entirety without you so much as having to ask.

It’s a sentiment you were forced to be fond of in your life before the one you had now. People had always come and gone, it was the nature of the crime life, and it was certainly the nature of the Zaun one too. To stop and mourn for too long was to die.

You’d have to add that back into your list of tasks. Along with putting all the stools up at closing time. And what were you supposed to do with all these damn cigarillos you had behind the counter? You didn’t smoke nearly as much as she did.

You smacked a hand that wasn’t yours away from the aforementioned stash, smirking when you heard a small, “Ow, jerk!”

“You’re not old enough to smoke.”

“It’s Zaun, babies would smoke if they could,” the boy, a little tail of yours named Kix, retorted, pouting as he hopped up on the counter. You sighed. “I finished that book you gave me.”

“Yeah? How was it?”

“Pretty good! And, I think, as a reward for finishing it, I should-”

“Yeah, I’m gonna stop you right there,” you said, stepping away to move the lemons you just sliced into a container. Your tail, of course, followed.

“Fine, can I at least finally get a knife?”

“When you can wield one of those batons without smacking yourself in the face, yeah. ‘Til then, hell no.”

“That’s a bad word!”

“Like you care!” You could only breathe out a laugh. The children of Zaun were sharp, often leaving you deeply amused and incredulous.

“Ugh,” he said dramatically, flailing against the bar. You shot one of your patrons an apologetic look at the antics of Stray Wet Cat #1. “But you have so many, Angel!” He exclaimed, “How’d you get those anyway? Did you kill somebody?”

I killed a lot of people, you wanted to say, but something told you that wouldn’t have been appropriate. “I told you before, Kix,” you started, voice gentle like a teacher’s, “Zaun isn’t the only place in the world where you need to defend yourself. The world is way bigger.”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” he muttered to himself, pushing away from the bar and trudging back to the lounge area connected to the kitchen, where a few of the other kids spent their time. You frowned as you watched him walk away, then looked down at the paring knife in your right hand.

For the children of Zaun, life depended on which end of the knife you found yourself on, and oftentimes nothing more. How much were you really doing for them, giving them sandwiches to eat and rudimentary lessons on how to hold a blade? They all had to leave the bar at the end of each day, stepping back into the streets waiting to swallow them whole on their treks back home.

“Don’t be so hard on ya’self, Ang’,” the patron you’d shared a look with earlier interjected. You looked up at him in a daze, quickly putting on a thoughtful smile.

“I’m okay,” you replied simply.

“And so are those kids, thanks to you,” he said, “A little bit goes a long way in Zaun. These kids can stretch an inch of kindness, always have been able to.”

You saw eyes like slate in your mind as the gentleman went back to nursing his drink, and your smile faltered.

Weren’t these the kids Sevika claimed to be doing her righteous work for? What could she tell them as she chipped away at their safe haven, showing up bi-weekly just to take away a little more? You growled lowly as you swiped a cigarillo from beneath the counter, abiding the thought to linger in your mind- as if you could condition yourself to hate her faster.

You were busy staring down the end of the cigarillo as you lit it, almost too busy to notice how a wave of quiet had washed over the Five-Copper Furnace. Your eyes flicked to the door just in time, though.

Your busy mind halted all thoughts more trivial than the now, a low voice reminding you of the shotgun beneath your bar, the knives in your sleeves, and the preeminent experience in violence that scarred your skin. Four men wearing all manners of weapons, and gleaming belt buckles of meridian silver, stalked into your bar.

𒀭 𒀭 𒀭

Sevika was, for whatever reason, a woman well-versed in the department of odd and unwanted talents. Being weirdly good with kids was at the forefront.

“Oh! Captain-General Metal Arm Lady!” Well, she knew which kid that was*.*

“Why is my name so long?” She muttered to herself as she stopped anyway, and turned on her heel to face him. The boy, one of Angel’s little henchmen named Kix, skidded to a stop in front of her. “What is it, kid?” She asked gruffly.

“Where’ve you been? Are you and Angel having a lover’s quarrel?”

Isn’t he like twelve?? Sevika picked her jaw up from the ground as quickly as it’d fallen. “Who the hell even taught you what that is?” She asked incredulously.

“That’s a bad word. And I read it in a book. Are you coming to the Five-Copper?”

“No, I’m busy,” Sevika said flatly. Her brow furrowed at the way his face fell. Not like a child who’d been told no, but a boy who had something to fear. “…Why?”

“Well, uh… m-maybe you could just stop by?” He rocked back on his heels, looking over his shoulder at the bar in question. He’d caught Sevika so close to the place, he just needed to get her through the door… “I think Angel might… u-um…”

Sevika sighed. “Before tomorrow, Kix.”

“I think Angel might need you.”

Sevika scoffed, turning with a small flare of her cloak (drama queen), “She’s a big girl, she can handle herself just fine, kid. I gotta go.” A small, surprised grunt rose out of her when she felt a tug on her metal arm. She looked down at the boy, shooting him a glare that lacked even an inch of fire.

“Please, Miss Sevika! A bunch of guys just walked in and I don’t know them, a-and they have really ugly, scary faces, and-”

“Okay! Okay. C’mon, let’s go,” Sevika rattled her arm out of Kix’s grasp, sweeping it back beneath her cloak. The boy let out a small cheer as her broad form turned in the direction of the Five-Copper Furnace, and he fell into step under the cover of her shadow. “And don’t call me ‘Miss Sevika’. Just Sevika is alright,” she made a small, grossed-out sound.

“Okay! Does that mean we’re friends?”

“No,” she replied, giving his head a small nudge as they walked.

“Ack! Bully!”

The smile that began to flicker across her features promptly melted back into her perpetual frown as she watched almost half a dozen patrons leave the Five-Copper in succession. “How many of them were there, kid?” She asked in a low voice.

“Uh, I think four?”

Sevika hummed, stopping beside the entrance. She pulled Kix aside by the collar with her, as even more patrons filed out. “Are your friends in there?” She asked. The boy nodded. “Okay. Go get ‘em through the back. And go home.”

“But-!”

“Uh-uh. She’s already pissed at me enough, can’t imagine how mad she’d be if you brats got hurt once this goes down.”

“So…” Sevika felt a few grey hairs grow in at the same time Kix’s frown faded into a grin, “…it is a lover’s quarrel?”

“Kix!”

“Okay, bye Sevika!” He hopped up and down as if to charge himself up before sprinting off. Sevika watched as he nearly tripped over himself when he quickly halted again. “Uh… you won’t let them hurt Angel, right?”

“She’ll be fine,” Sevika said. She sighed as his feet stayed planted in the ground. Her voice was softer when she spoke again, “You have my word, kid. Angel will be okay.” He gave her a final grin, before darting off. Sevika cracked her neck as she zeroed back on the entrance to Angel’s bar. “Guess collections is early this month,” she muttered wryly, before pushing the door open.

𒀭 𒀭 𒀭

“These people don’t even know, do they?”

You breathed out tendrils of smoke from your nose, lowering your voice in line with the bounty hunter’s. His friends had stayed mute, opting to survey your patrons and the bar itself like three angry lighthouses.

You smiled slightly at those who hadn’t left yet, whose postures were coiled tightly like metal springs.

“I can’t imagine it’d change a thing,” you replied. You picked up the wanted poster (old fashioned, you were aware) he’d thrown on the counter, giving it another flippant once-over. Your likeness had been- rather skillfully- illustrated in the center, with meaningless words like ‘Wanted’ and ��approach with care’ swimming around it.

God, I’m good-looking, you thought with a smile and a nod.

“And yet you have ‘em call you a different name. Bury your old one with the rest of your money, huh?”

“Oh, that isn’t buried. Not one bit,” Your face spread into a grin, wolfish teeth crushing the filter of the cigarillo. You saw the hunger that flickered in his eyes, a greed so romantically entwined with the people of Bilgewater that men died for it. Like this one would.

“Well, good to know! Between that and the hundred Golden Krakens on your head, you’ll make a fine cashout,” the rancid man said, “Angel.”

Your eyes widened slowly, mockingly. “A hundred Golden Krakens?” You echoed, “…Can I turn myself in?” Your eyes flicked casually to the door as you heard it open once again.

“Very funny. Now…”

Whatever the hunter had to say ceased to matter as you watched her walk in. Wide shoulders curved inwards, entering with the same intent your remaining customers all had. Sevika met your eyes immediately.

On one hand, not only was your safety further secured, but a return in a casket to your old city was all but out of the question now. Sevika wouldn’t let you die, at the very least, you knew that much.

On the other hand… Sevika was in your bar. Your eyes narrowed at her, and you gave her a look that practically screamed ‘piss off’ in spite of your other senses relaxing. She shook her head at you, matching your rising agitation with an annoyed curl of her lip.

Kix, she mouthed. Oh, thanks, kid. What a wingman.

You would’ve found it silly the way she stuck to the walls as she moved through the bar. Trying to get closer to you, you realized. A hand slamming down on the table and another grabbing your collar brought your attention back to more pressing matters.

Sevika felt her heart jump higher in her chest, and she resisted the urge to rush right to you and pluck that man’s head from the rest of him. A firm hand on her shoulder was all that prevented her, and she leveled her gaze with the fool who’d stepped in her line of view.

“We called dibs on this job, you’re too late,” the hunter said. Sevika furrowed her brows in brief confusion, but the pieces came together quickly in a mind as sharp as hers.

Bounty hunters? For you?

He gave her shoulder a shove, and Sevika let herself be moved. Some distance to deploy her left arm’s blade, good. “Go on,” he growled.

A scream from the bar counter swiveled all heads in that direction.

Sevika’s eyes widened as your name started to rise in her throat, until she saw the main perpetrator sink like a stone in water… his hand left behind in your grasp. You wiped the knife on your apron, throwing your still-burning cigarillo at him as he writhed on the floor.

Sevika threw her cloak to the ground before her sensibilities turned to steel.

𒀭 𒀭 𒀭

You would’ve made a fine alchemist, if you hadn’t chosen the more profitable industry of alcoholism instead.

You also would’ve been far less likely to have ever encountered Sevika and the all-consuming rage she inspired in you if you’d started an Apothecary. What with her- very much expected- aversion to seeking out any medical assistance of any sort.

“Ow.”

“Stay still.”

“Ow.” Sevika hissed when you pressed the tonic-doused cloth to her wound with the exact same vigor as before, thrashing away from you. You sat up straight, leveling her with a look that seethed with your indignance.

“You’re acting like a wuss.”

“And you’re acting like a child who didn’t get her way,” she snapped. Your eye twitched, and so you closed them to take a moment to gather yourself.

You missed the way Sevika’s gaze fell slowly to your lap, eyes creasing as she frowned at your battered hands. You hadn’t had time to pull your gun from beneath the bar before shit went down, and so you’d resorted to hacking with hand and blade. Sevika had been at your back like a magnet, sticking to you and letting the hunters come to her. You’d held your own valiantly.

She only serviced you a lukewarm glare as you moved back to her, this time gently easing the cloth onto her wounded cheek. You held her in place by the other side of her face. “You can take a punch but not a wound disinfectant,” you quipped.

“I took more than just a punch recently, princess.” Sevika side-eyed you when your touch faltered, letting out a shallow huff from her nose.

“Unbelievable…” you muttered.

“Who the hell were those guys? What could they possibly want with you?” Sevika asked. You jutted your lip at her in annoyance when her movements shifted the cloth.

She looked down to ponder the fight from a few hours ago (the lower floor was still an absolute wreck, but that was a problem for you to deal with tomorrow). Silver teeth; and weaponry not at all reminiscient of anything you’d find in Zaun, or Piltover. They had moved with an erratic tick to their attacks, not completely unlike the Shimmer-dependent henchmen Silco kept; although their addiction ran strictly red.

“They weren’t Zaunites,” she mused aloud.

“…No. They weren’t. They were from Bilgewater.”

You freed your other hand to reach for your wanted poster you’d nabbed before heading upstairs, and handed it to Sevika. There was a hanging silence between you as she read the same words over and over again.

“They got your likeness wrong,” she said. You pursed your lips, waiting. “Your head is bigger than that.”

“Shut up.”

Sevika chuckled; or at least gave a limp attempt at it. Her hand holding the poster fell with a soft crunch as she sighed. You let your own hands rest in your lap as she closed her eyes, and leaned her head over the back of your couch.

She had such a pretty neck. The lines of that strange scar were like wisps of blue smoke on her skin. You wanted to reach out to touch them, to thank her sweetly for defending you even as you spat fire on her wounds. You wanted to kiss all the smooth and rough patches you could see, lull her into a soft sleep-

“This is gonna get back to Silco in a couple of days tops.”

You scoffed. “What, is he gonna raise my rent? Doesn’t he have a revolution to claim to run?”

Deep down, you were impressed with what Sevika let you get away with saying to her. Inadvertently discounting her life’s work was no small thing, and you’d seen her put others on the ground for less. It was even more surprising when she gave a real answer to your poor-faithed question.

“You should’ve kept your head low. And let me deal with it. Not- cut a guy’s hand off.” She shook her head, rubbing her forehead. You opened your mouth to refute your lost honor, but she beat you to it, “You’re too… competent. He’ll wanna bring you in now. And you’re no good to the Undercity if he pockets you.”

You’re about to ask her why the hell does she work for him then, but another piece clicks into place before the words surface. Sevika watches the realization cross your face. “So that’s why you…”

“Trust me,” Sevika took hold of your wrist as she raised her head to stare scrutinizingly at your wall, and guided you to press the cloth back to her face. “The collections I take from you are cheaper than really being under his heel. You should see what he takes from that Sheriff up in Piltover.” She breathed out a humorless laugh. Your eyes widened, as the scope of Silco’s reach did too. **

You were a fool. Had going straight truly dulled your cunning mind? (Or was it just the handsome woman sitting in your living room…)

“That’s the discounted price too, by the way,” she muttered. You were pulled from your thoughts with a soft laugh.

“I knew you were fond of me.”

“I like what you do for the kids.”

“It’s nothing,” you said softly, surveying the injury on her face and deeming it sufficiently stabilized to move onto the next. You were glad, at least, that the brunt of the pain had been inflicted on you two rather than your good-willed customers.

Sevika’s brow furrowed as she watched you go through the motions of prepping her next injury. Truthfully, she didn’t know why she let you drag her upstairs in the first place; the way you coupled your attentive- if not presumptuous- touch with barbed jabs at her gall for walking into your bar should’ve pissed her off. But she let you move her like you were a breeze.

Your movements were practiced, like you’d spent a whole lifetime sweeping up the broken pieces of stupid, pointless fights. Sevika looked down at the wanted poster again. “…How much is 100 Golden Krakens?” She asked.

You hummed as you tried to think of the best comparison in Zaun’s economy, “Probably eightteen months’ worth of what I make running the bar.”

“Janna-”

You laughed heartily as you carefully peeled the wax paper from a bandage. Subconsciously, you rubbed over the wound once it was patched to soothe the ache, not noticing how Sevika’s gaze immediately went to your nimble hand. “Why, you thinkin’ about turning me in?” You teased.

“Funny,” she deadpanned, “Would be one less pain in the ass for me, though.” She gave you a pointed onceover. Her feigned exasperation melted into a grin when you slapped her leg (albeit very weakly).

“You just said you like me!”

“That isn’t what I said,” she said, still feigning dismissal so smugly. You hated how well she wore a petty smirk, or how pretty her teeth were when she gleaned a real smile.

(You wanted to kiss that stupid look right off her face.)

Instead, all you did was roll your eyes, collapsing on the opposite end of the couch. In Sevika’s mind, she just won that encounter.

“You mind if I smoke?”

You waved your hand, looking out the window of your kitchen, “Worse has happened in my house today.” She didn’t pull your gaze back to her until you heard her shifting around for a longer amount of time than it should’ve taken for someone to find a cig and lighter. “Lose your lighter?” You mocked, taking in the cigarillo hanging out of her mouth as she patted down her pockets with mild frustration on her face.

“One of the bastards must have knocked it out of my pack,” she said with an agitated sigh. Her eyes perked up at the metal clink of… your lighter. You laid your head back against the arm of the couch, resting the open lighter slightly above your abdomen. Sevika’s breath caught as she realized how close she’d have to get to you- how close you’d make her get to you- to get a light.

Her eyes narrowed into a glare as they slid up to meet your gaze. She wasn’t about to make a coward of herself now, though. She held your expectant stare as she leaned down between your legs, one of her hands boldly bracing on your shin with a slight squeeze. She cupped her hand protectively around yours as she lit the end of her cigarillo. The way your eyes widened and your chest stopped rising with breath wasn’t lost on her.

I take it back, Kix, she thought, I don’t think she’s all that pissed.

She turned her head to the side as she blew smoke from her mouth. “Tell me something,” she said, her voice nearly a purr. You had to fight with your own goddamn eyes to tear away from the small puffs of smoke that left her mouth as she spoke. You cocked a brow. “Were you a pirate or something?” She asked. Her eyes widened slightly when you met her with silence. “Oh, sweet hell…”

“Don’t laugh!”

She laughed. You loved that she did.

“That was… a long time ago,” you waved your hand like you could bat the memories away, but they’d never felt more with you than today. You had nearly forgotten how easy it was to snatch someone’s life away. You’d made a fortune on it once, and yet… the muscle of ruthlessness had grown weak and disoriented with lack of exercise. You frowned to yourself, shaking your head. “I did a lot of things I’m not proud of.”

Sevika shrugged, taking another drag. “We don’t choose where life puts us,” she replied. You shouldn’t have been surprised by such a… thoughtful sentence leaving her mouth. But your brows still raised slightly as you looked at her. “I’m not gonna be the one to judge you around here.”

You frowned, guilt jabbing in your gut. “But I did you.”

“Maybe you weren’t wrong for it,” she retorted softly. Your eyes widened. She inhaled softly before continuing, swiveling her gaze to meet yours again. “I used to try an’ push Silco to do more for the kids. Get books smuggled in in between all the Shimmer requisitions,” she scoffed, shaking her head. Your heart squeezed as you watched her carefully begin to pull the curtains around her true self back- for you. “Give people resources, just… something. I didn’t realize I let four years go by ‘til I saw you doing all that for the kids the moment you touched down here.”

You sighed, swinging your legs over the edge of the couch to rub your face with both hands. “You really think I won’t be able to help them at all once Silco comes knocking?” You asked, biting your lip as you felt like what was the only answer was slowly enclosing around you.

Immediately though, Sevika shook her head. Your mouth opened slightly in confusion as she stood up from your couch. “No. I’m gonna handle this,” the determination in her step would have been beyond adorable if it weren’t for your utter bemusement. “I… owe you,” she said slowly. You wanted to laugh at how her fierce bravado seemed to come to a skidding stop the moment she had to make an admission on her pride.

“Oh yeah?” You teased.

She rolled her eyes as she pulled her cloak back on over her shoulders, concealing that absolute unit of a figure from your prying eyes. You smiled at how her broad shoulders were still very apparent, and the beginnings of her v-line peeked out with that damn cropped vest- get it together, Angel. “He’s gonna know I was here anyway, might as well make something out of it,” she explained (right, you bought that…), pausing again to scrutinize you, “You’re all good?”

Trigonometric equations started floating around in your head as you tried to decipher what she could possibly mean with that question, until her arched brow turned judgemental at how long you were taking to answer.

Oh. She was just asking about your… general wellbeing. Aw!

“O-oh, yeah, I’m all good,” you said. Truthfully too, you were more used to fighting the Bilgewater types than her, and had come out of the confrontation mostly unscathed. Your jaw stuttered as if to say more when she hummed and took a swift step forward, tilting your head up with her index and thumb.

“You’re not lying?” She asked lowly, turning your head gently from side to side.

“E-even if I was, it’s none of your business,” you snapped defensively. Dumbass. Did you have any idea how red your face was?

With an amused exhale from her nose, Sevika gently let go of your chin, fleetingly brushing her crooked index over your cheek. “Whatever you say, princess,” she said. She didn’t even give you a chance to shoot back something clever (as if you had something prepared) before she was sweeping towards the door, fixing her cigarillo in the corner of her mouth. “Your bar’s a mess,” she quipped over her shoulder, just to be a dick.

“Fuck you!” You called after her, the smile on your face crystal-clear in your tone. The last thing you saw was her pretty side-profile as she half-glanced at you with smug amusement lining her face, before she closed the door behind her.

You slumped back on the couch, letting out a heavy sigh. “That goddamn woman…” you muttered, “Fuck.”

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Yandere Pyramid Headcanons

Warnings: Possessive Behaviour, Unhealthy Behaviour, Pyramid also exists in the version of Silent Hill before the Church Bell Rings, Mention of Physical Attack on Reader, No Pronouns used for Reader Except ‘You’.

Possessive ahh monster man.

Keeps you in a safe, isolated location far from the epicentre of the town so that the only monster you’re at risk of is him.

Scary dog privileges :>

Does anything and everything you ask him to, no matter how trivial the task. Unless you ask him to let you go outside.

Even if the other creatures aren’t wandering around and prowling the streets at that moment, he refuses to let you out.

Unless you give him the puppy dog eyes, which, to his absolute confusion, he found himself unable to resist.

But only once.

You used Pyramid’s weakness for cuteness against him and, when he heard a sound in the distance – the all-too familiar ringing of church bells – and turned to face the origin, you took your chance to escape.

You knew the monsters would come as the world around you peeled, revealing a hellish, rust-ridden, infested reality which, in your terror-stricken state, you didn’t think you’d be around long enough to be at risk of.

Of course, you were cornered.

Of course, just as you were about to become a commemorative name and face on a t-shirt at the hands of a monstrosity, Pyramid Head stepped in and wiped that jittering, straight-jacketed bastard off every map there was, physical and spectral.

Much like the very day he met you. Took you (for what purpose, you still do not know).

He’s never let you out of his sight since.

Keeps you by his side when he’s on a supply run since he can’t trust you to remain in the safety of whatever building he’s fortified.

You might not know it, given his involuntarily stoicism, but Pyramid Head is constantly watching you.

Sure, you may get the feeling you’re being watched, but in a town like Silent Hill, that’s practically a birthright.

And besides, Pyramid doesn’t have any eyes…you think ? So how can he possibly be watching you ?

If you try to chance your arm and run away, he uses his knife as a deterrent.

Slams it down right where you’d be if you had been a second quicker.

He’d never hit you. Not intentionally.

His strength and eternity of wielding the blade makes it as easy to control it as if it were his arm, or an extra limb.

But you don’t need to know that.

He’s lowkey a sucker for physical contact btw.

Once, he found you standing closer to him than usual when the day grew particularly cold.

He wasn’t sure what you were doing at first until you flat-out muttered about “How frigid” it was.

Clouds seemed to form before your face, a human anomaly Pyramid hadn't witnessed this close before. If ever.

This man has no clue how to help you, so he just kind of watched as you gave him a wide-eyed look and, quivering, approaching him as if he were a feral dog (why did you look so scared of him…?), leaned against his side.

He shifted, jumped, stepped back.

What was this feeling ?

His heart spiked, his skin prickled.

Alarmed, you sprang back, and he couldn’t articulate the response to tell you to stay, come back, I’m sorry.

When the two of you finally resumed your journey to nowhere, he walked a little closer to you, inching nearer every few minutes until his hand brushed your side.

And you didn’t pull away :> !

Eventually, when you grew tired, you settled in a decrepit little room that, much like the rest of the town, looked as if it would fall apart if you so much as gave it a mean look.

In a rare act of humanity, Pyramid sat beside you.

And he damn near jumped out of his skin (again) when, unprovoked, you leaned against him.

He made sure not to spook you. Not again.

He couldn’t handle that wounded stare you’d given him earlier. It made him feel…weak. Vulnerable. Human.

And he did not enjoy it.

Well, that's what he thought at first. Before the warmth of something unidentifiable settled in his chest.

From then on, he started taking you out during the colder hours of the day just for the chance to have your skin brush against his.

And each time, that feeling, that tightness in his chest, would spark, set him alight with a fluttering sensation he'd never known before he found you.

Until you got sick. Then he toned it down a little.

But only because he couldn’t enjoy his solitary walks to where he knew medicine lay, too concerned with wondering why you were jerking, and why you sounded like you were roaring whenever you opened your mouth and your eyes squeezed shut, or why liquid would pour out of your nose.

Bless him, he doesn’t know what a cold – or sickness – is. But he does know that, when you lay on top of him and basically used him as your bed, curling up on his chest, he thought he’d seen light.

Real light.

Has resisted the urge to try and make you ill again just for that purpose.

Luckily, your random acts of affection – hand holding (or finger holding, since your entire hand could wrap around one of his fingers),  nuzzling, leaning on him, saying “Thank you” whenever he returned with the supplies – keeps his unhealthy tendencies at bay.

Well, most of them at least.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterpost

Yandere Masterlist Juicy Original Content <3

[pricetagged]

The usual from me, I'm afraid. I'm back at my nonsense, typing up wife-hunter John while I take a break from tidying my apartment (: Here's part iii! (there will be more reader/john in part iv )

Masterlist l Previous

Content: More stalking, manipulation, voyeurism & marital sabotage. John's a bad man and I want him viscerally <3

----------------------

It tears at him, rends flesh from bone with sharp little teeth. Corrugated. Rusty. It poisons his bloodstream, boils blood to madness and burns to feverish pitch.

It's a trap of his own design, and he just had to poke at it. He set it up, jaw wrenched wide and trigger taut and, god, he had to touch it. Had to feel the bruising pleasure bloom then give to something sharper. Sweeter.

In his more reflective moments he wonders if setting up the cameras was a good idea. He's a possessive old bastard and he's torn; not because of any hand-wringing morals, no. No, but rather that he's left himself licking along the knife's edge, close enough for it to cut if he presses hard. He can touch it. It's in his grasp, but he's not fully confident that he's the only one wielding it.

There are too many variables still.

And it's left him here, testing the pressure of the razor-sharp rim and wanting to dig deeper. (He fisted at himself harder than usual that night, flesh aching and engorged and throbbing as the cold metal of your wedding ring bit at the veins and ridges of his length).

The screen is his most hated ally. Pixels and light; the blue sheen. The static blur that raises the hair on his arms as he caresses your image. It's the sweetest torture, watching you boxed in by the four corners of a machine. Gazing on only the impression of you, shadowy and reflective, pacing the monitor. It's peiskos, but wrong. He has you in his home, but can only see and touch you in artificial impotence. It drives him wild, makes his throat ache and his head hot watching you, but not knowing how you taste.

That's not him, he thinks, having something that he can't fully possess. Even the bottle of 1926 Macallan locked in his cellaret has been cracked open, rolled around the palate and savoured before returned to the shelf. Locked safe behind glass, yes, but within reach.

He has to see you again. The trap is tightening, and isn't it funny that it's caught him too?

(His hand moved faster, pleasure simmering as he watched your wide eyes turn glossy and your voice grow thick. 'I don't know where it went! It must have fallen off in the garden, I swear!' Even being unable to taste it, to lick at your tears and feel you tremble-

-it had him tensing his thighs, body clenching in anger and heat as he listened to your apologies. As he listened to your pathetic, half-hearted moans. The way you gave in so sweetly, so eager to please and make good. Your husband's disgusting, breathy grunting. Weak. Unsatisfying-

-But it had his palm tightening around the tacky, swollen flesh at his tip. Slit leaking as the rage boiled his blood and sent it south in a paroxysm of rapture).

He sees Buck before he sees you. It's a necessary evil. No, that's not quite right. It's inevitable; it's reasonable. He needs to lay the bait, shuffle the leaves over it and let nature take its course.

It's a classic pub. A real boozer, where the floor is always slickly sticky and the walls are a cheery, tobacco-stained yellow. The kind of place that serves only pork scratchings and pints.

Your husband didn't expect to see him there. Fox in the henhouse, only he's too stupid to realise that he's the bird.

"System is running well, mate! Thanks. This round's on me," he claps at John's shoulder and does admirably well at hiding his nerves.

It has him smiling into the pint glass, schadenfreude as your husband subtly stretches his aching palm and paints on a wary smile.

(Foot hovering just above the spring; steel teeth ready to -)

"You here alone?" John sips at his drink, eyes scanning the dingy room until - yes, there in the corner he sees a familiar Union Jack cap. Good lad.

"No, no. My mates have just left. Like to linger, you know, for the company," he sends a wink to some pretty thing nursing a G&T by the window.

"Not enough company at home?" he tries to make it light, hoping that the gravel in his tone could be mistaken for interest. And it is, really, if prey drive could count as mere 'interest'.

Buck scoffs, rolling his eyes in a way that looks a lot like rolling belly-up. 'Tell me I'm a real man, look at me! I've got the pick of the flock'. "You know how it is. Gets boring, fishing in the same hole all the time, eh?"

"I wouldn't know," he hums, eyebrows drawn low in faux-consideration. Meets him dead in the eye, lets the mask drop for a just a second. Let's the words come out flat and dangerous. "I've never had a problem reeling in what I want."

The words linger, settling heavy and awkward in a way that has him licking his teeth. Tension so thick he can chew it, feel the fat and gristle rend under the strength of his jaw. It's heady watching the way your husband flounders, not sure how to react until the pack leader backs up and loosens the canines at his nape. Lets him breathe. It's a joke, really. Go on. Laugh. And he follows suit so easily. It's almost boring, he thinks, with eyes cold and muscles frozen under his fake smile as he watches the man chuckle.

"You've gotta stay, Price, that's a good one. One more drink, c'mon." Funny. He thinks that it's his right to give orders. He thinks that John's staying at his command.

John taps twice at the foamy rim of the glass. Catches his sergeant's eye from across the room. "Sure, why not."

It's time.

It's masterful, really, how well Gaz slips over. Greets Buck like an old friend. Drops hints and in-jokes that have the man chuckling along as his eyes flit about with confusion.

"Can't believe I've run into you, here. I thought I'd seen the last of you when you moved house, what, a year ago?" Kyle slides into the barstool on the left. Boxes him in, piggy in the middle. "Still with that finance company?"

"Yeah, yeah it's been a while," he trails off. Too proud to admit that he doesn't know Gaz. Has never met the man. John can feel the way his eyes keep flicking towards the side of his face. Needy. Histrionic.

"You lads catch up, have fun. I'm away for the night," he sets the empty glass at the bar with a soft thud. Makes a show of introducing himself to Gaz and waving the two of them off.

In the cool air of the smoking area he has a moment of fika. Cars roll by on a distant road. The muffled sound of laughter and murmuring filters through frosted pub windows. The rich, heavy smoke of his cigar swirls around and around until he's closing his eyes in the haze. It's slow, calming, and he takes a moment just to appreciate the hand that he's about to play.

He thumbs over the smudged screen of your husband's phone. Only 2 missed calls and 1 text.

>>Sorry to go on at you, but you said you were finishing work at 5 today. It's nearly 8 now. Can you at least let me know where you are? We were going to start that series tonight and I've been getting worried waiting for you :/

Poor, sweet thing. Polite, too. All love and care wasted on the pathetic, juvenile lump slumped over the bar right now. 

(It whets his appetite, seeing how well-trained you are. How you toe the line, defer to the farcical rules set out for you in your relationship. 'Stay at home. Don't blow up my phone.'

Would you come to heel for him? If a weak, useless hand could shape you so well, what could a strong one do?)

<< Sorry, baby. I goty caugtht up at the pub w some friends. HAd a few drInks. Cmome and get me? [LOCATION SHARED]

He flicks the stub of the cigar away as he pockets the phone.

Curtains up; show about to begin.

He settles into his seat, a well-worn booth. Threadbare, stained upholstery and faded coasters. It's shadowy here, tucked away in the corner but offering a perfect line of sight to the door. And right by that very door is Gaz, your husband, and the pretty thing from earlier.

The bell jingles; wind whistles in.

Gaz lets his grip slip, lets your husband slump in the seat until his head is resting against the neck of the woman he was chatting up. Fingers inching up her thighs as she laughs and flirts back.

"What..?" it's too noisy in here to hear you, but he's listened to your voice over and over. He knows just how your pitch is rising. The slight crack on the final consonant.

You stand, face screwed up as you try to make sense of the situation. But two plus two can only ever equal four, and your husband's hands up a skirt can only ever equal- 

"Hi, gorgeous. Here to meet someone?" his sergeant grins up at you. Plays the charmer so well. "Got an empty seat with us, if you fancy it."

There's a little bitterness cutting at the furl of your lips. You're holding it in so well but, god, the words must burn, coming out like bile. "What, sure that I'm not interrupting something?"

"No, no. He said he's just having a little fun. Said he wants something warm before he goes home to his bitch wife," Gaz chuckles, leaning towards you like he wants to whisper a secret. "Bit sick of hearing his complaining, if I'm honest. Makes her sound like a right harpy. But you could take my mind off it."

"Not sure about that," he sees the way your chest hitches. Sees the sob that you swallow down as you steel your expression. "I am the 'bitch wife'."

And it's magnificent. Kyle's played his part so well; stuck to the script like he's performing at The Globe. An ad-lib here, an improvisation there. He hands you a napkin, rubs at your shoulder as he looms over the treacherous tableau he fashioned for an audience of two. You, and John. Ache and Hunger; betrayal and mastery. He maneuvers you, keeps you from causing a bigger scene as he hauls your husband by the scruff of his jacket. Choreographs the steps so that John can see every last microcosm on the universe of your face.

It's his set, his design. He's the architect, director, and audience all in one.

(And that foolish, stupid player of yours tugged at the lure. Found himself swinging, tied up in the string).

--------------------------

Ik reader wasn't really present here, but had to get the ball rolling (: Also I've been stressed and not sleeping so forgive me for this being a bit...

And yes. John stood there and put all the typos in that message on purpose. Unhinged.

[spacerockfloater]

Every time Team Black stans talk about Rhaenyra’s bastards and the Dragon Twins as if they’re blessings upon this earth, an angel loses its wings.

Like, okay. They’re children, I’m excusing all of them up to a certain point. But they’re some of the most vicious, aggressive, cowardly, snotty brats we’ve ever seen in this franchise and pretending that they’re not is so foul.

Lucerys is a hypocritical twat that bullied the boy he grew up with because he didn’t have a dragon, but then he’s totally okay hanging out with Rhaena who doesn’t have one either. And then he pulls out a knife and blinds Aemond for no fucking reason, after his gang attacked him first, and faces zero consequences for his actions. He eventually grows up to become an even worse person by literally laughing in his cousin’s face, whom he disabled. And then he tries to boss lord Borros around by telling him that he’s obligated to ally with Rhaenyra even if there isn’t anything in him for it.

Jacaerys is also very two faced for the exact same reasons as Lucerys, with the addition of having anger management issues. Like, remember how he beats the living shit out of his little brother when they’re training at the beach, kicks him to the ground and grabs him by the throat because he is upset their uncles are better warriors than them? That’s the good future king you’re all talking about? He is already obsessed with the idea of becoming king, to the point that his own mother has to remind him that she’s actually alive and well and he would have to wait a good fucking while before his dreams come true. That’s actually so sick on his behalf. Not to mention that he very likely married Sara Snow, betraying his fiancée, in order to gain the Starks’ help, which is very dishonourable. At least Lucerys told Borros he’s betrothed and refused to marry one of his daughters to get his support, I’ll give him that.

Baela is a deranged evil girl who was ready to throw hands on sight, too. And have we forgotten that she becomes a drunkard and whoremonger who spends her money gambling in the rat pits, the places where children fight one another in King’s Landing, once she grows up, or is it wrong only when Aegon II does it?

Rhaena is an aggressive coward who seems more preoccupied with the acquisition of a dragon than her mother’s death. She didn’t have the guts to go and claim Vhagar, but she feels powerful enough to confront Aemond when she has three people backing her up.

Finally, even without taking all of their problematic traits into account, these people are so severely uninteresting and unimpressive. Lucerys does not convince Borros to side with his mother and drops dead like a fly. Joffrey gets shrugged off by Syrax and plummets to his demise. Jacaerys is immediately killed during his embarrassing attempt to fight the Triarchy, not to mention that he was the reason his youngest half siblings were captured and nearly killed because he had the brilliant idea of sending them away. Baela loses the only dragon fight she was ever part of to Aegon II and Sunfyre who were very injured by a previous fight already! And Rhaena is just… there. Doing nothing. Never avenging her husband’s death, eventually marrying a Hightower. Yikes.

Are there much more ill behaved children in ASOIAF? Yeah, for sure, but we actually acknowledge that children like Aegon II and Joffrey Baratheon are pieces of shit. But if we could like, stop glorifying these four mediocre and borderline malicious kids solely because some of you feel the need to ride the dicks of everyone who is part of Rhaenyra’s crew, that would be great. They might be children, but they’re children with shady, putting it mildly, personalities, wielding new-clear weapons of mass destruction who actively participated in a war, especially Jacaerys and Baela. They sure were victims of the world they were raised in, but they were aggressors as well. And like, this is the ASOIAF universe, nearly all of our protagonists are children. We can’t constantly apply modern day morals and coddle them forever because “OMG, they are just babies!”, unless we are ready to apply the same logic on the Targtowers, who were basically the same age as Rhaenyra and Daemon’s children.

[mactiir]

sword misconceptions pt 1: longsword

Post series: shortsword | rapier | buckler | dagger | spear

so as I'm getting back into fantasy lit as a historical fencer, there are a lot of things I am noticing cropping up in swordfights that are inaccurate or flat out wrong. So i wanted to write a post for my fellow writers putting down a few things I've learned in 2.5 years of swinging the actual weapons around!

Disclaimer: i am not an expert. Additionally, many of the historical terms for weapons were not standardized (there was no "one" longsword/rapier/shortsword etc when we're talking about a weapon that existed for hundreds of years across an entire continent) so what I'm discussing under the cut is specific to the late medieval/early Renaissance European two-handed weapon with a simple hilt/crossguard and with a blade length around 3 feet -- what D&D calls the longsword, or in older editions the bastard sword (although if we want to get picky about it, bastard swords should have shorter handles than longswords -- but I wrote this post as a writing reference so names are beside the point. you can call the swords whatever you want in your story, anyway).

Misconception 1: longswords are heavy.

Older editions of D&D had these weapons at 6 pounds, which is about 2x too heavy. 5e has them at 3 pounds, which is exactly right. Your average longsword is between 2 and 4 pounds, and a well-made one will be balanced such that you barely feel it. Pound for pound, they are heavier than almost all one handed weapons (except some rapiers but we'll talk about that later), but between their balance and the fact you wield them in both hands, their weight is likely not going to be a prohibiting factor for most characters. Everyone who can pick up a wooden baseball bat can pick a longsword up and swing it. A weak or out of shape character will struggle for wielding it for lengths of time, though.

Misconception 2: longswords are slow.

You're 1) thinking of a zweihander and 2)zweihanders aren't slow, either, but we'll get to that later. Longswords, wielded properly in both hands, are lightning fast, with a skilled fencer that's opened their opponent's defense often able to land 2-4 hits before a director even registers the first hit and calls "halt". And there are two components to speed: actual velocity, and distance. Longswords are -- well, long. Even if you can't swing it as fast as a little knife, the fact that it's three feet long means you're closing to target much faster compared with a shorter weapon, because you don't have to do as much footwork to get into, or out of, striking range.

Misconception 3: you can wield a longsword in one or both hands.

I mean, you could. But a one-handed wield robs a longsword of a lot of its dexterity, grace, precision, and yes -- power. You want two hands on this thing. Your dominant hand goes closer to the crossguard and it's what generates your power and edge alignment. Your offhand on or near the pommel is where your dexterity and fine steering is. Switching or removing either of these hands feels weird and you are also way more likely to get disarmed just by trying to parry with one hand.

Misconception 4: swordfights are about dodging.

You have two realistic options when someone is swinging a longsword at you: parry or step out of range. You do not duck. You do not jump. You do not sway, roll, or do backbends. All of these things will 1) rob you of necessary structure to riposte, 2) leave you wide open for a renewed attack or remise, and 3) leave your most important tool for not getting hit -- your SWORD -- too far off target to help you. Yes, all of these things look super cool and may fit depending on your style and setting. But if you're going for realism, YOU PARRY.

Misconception 5: you can be fast or strong but not both.

Ok, this is more a pet peeve about martial arts in general but: you cannot be fast without a certain base amount of muscle. You CANNOT. Small people with no muscle are slow. They have to take huge, looping cuts to compensate for their lack of muscle and leave huge openings while they do it. Small people who do well at the sport are often very quick because they have to train the heck out of footwork to outwork bigger opponents, but that only comes with TRAINING. It's not a "small people are automatically dex builds" thing. And while big muscly guys are often slower, they also 1) have less distance to move to close to target, which makes them "faster" even if they are moving a tad slower and 2) they're also often fast as balls, so you can judge virtually nothing about an opponent based on their body type except for their reach. A good, big longsword fencer will often have really fast handwork because most don't do well in longsword fencing without speed.

Let me know if there are any lingering questions I missed! I may think of more later, but I hope this was helpful for now :)

[xayneimagines]

Mihawk “Fucking and Fighting are a bit different.”

Fandom: One Piece 

Pairing: Mihawk x MC(She/her)

Genre: smut

Content tags: “little girl/good girl/rabbit” pet name. Discussion of a scene that I wanted to include cause idk I like it. Mihawk so nice so he can be mean later. AFAB and pussy eating. Part 1?!

   MC was trying to catch her breath as she stared at the swordsman before her. She had challenged him to a duel and, while he declined, she had still persisted. Each slash of her blade was deflected, and that damn bastard Mihawk wasn’t even sweating.

   “Do you plan to do this all day? I could cut you down, you know.” On the surface he was unamused with her persistence, but truly he was impressed with how hard she was pushing herself. The sweat glistening off of her skin and the heaving of her chest was quite a sight for the war lord. 

   “Shut up! I’ll kill you!” At this point MC was no longer thinking. Frustration was approaching a boiling point and as she ran along the cobblestone corridor for another attack she tried to plunge the sword into him. 

   He was gone. In her eyes, it looked like he had just vanished, but the sudden gruff voice in her ear showed otherwise.

   “Your form is sloppy and your speed is lacking. Try a wider stance.” 

   Before MC could turn around, she felt him kick slightly at one of her legs, spreading them further. With her new found position she was able to swing the sword a little harder, but he easily blocked it  with the small knife he carried. 

   “Your eyes need to be on your target before you point your blade.” Another critique before he pushed her back, causing her to fumble. 

   She let out a low growl and went for him again. 

   “Stop fucking with me!”

   Mihawk pinned her body between him and the wall, his rough calloused hands grabbing hold of her wrist and pinning them above her. She had barely registered the movement until the sword she was wielding fell from her hand and caused a loud clang to ring out through the stone halls. The sound was, however, drowned out by her heartbeat.

   As her eyes peered into his she almost choked on her own breath. His eyes didn’t have their usual cold and calculating glint to them. Instead there was a look that MC had never seen. A dark, lustful gaze that should not have been sending shivers up her spine and causing her to clench her thighs.

   “Fighting is a bit different than fucking, little girl.”

MC couldn’t respond. She wanted to have some witty comeback or maybe even just tell him to back off, but all her words seemed to fail. Instead what fell out was-

   “Uh…um…uh…” 

   He raised an eyebrow as she seemed to struggle with her words, taking it as a confirmation that she didn’t mind feeling his body pressed tightly against hers. He shifted his grip on her wrists so that he could hold them tightly with one hand, his other sliding down her arm, her sides, landing on her hip.

   “Would you like me to show you?” His own arousal had his voice deepening, the gruff growls attached to each word almost surprising himself. It was rare for him to feel this way, wanting to ravish and spoil. When they had first met he had found her annoying yet cute. And each time she found him afterwards, and picked a fight, annoyance quickly turned into a desire to undo her. He wanted to have her panting and sweating underneath him, begging him to fuck her untill she forgot this damn one sided rivalry.

   “N…no.” She had meant that to sound a little more…well…sure?

   His lip turned up slightly, a smirk on his face as he glanced over hers slowly before letting his eyes linger further down her body. He could see the goosebumps forming as he mapped her out. His free hand then moved from her sides up to her neck, fingers gripping only enough for her to feel the pressure.

   She shivered.

   “Are you sure about that? A swordsman must be sure of everything they decide.” 

   Who knew how long they stood there in silence. All MC could register was how close he was, each touch, each lustful glance. Time no longer mattered.

   “I’ll ask again. Would you like me to fuck you?”

   “Yes.”

~~~~~~~~

   The only reason he didn’t take her on the cold floor right then and there was because he wanted to make sure their time together would span the entire night. And, while he did have a tremendous amount of self restraint, his selfishness drove him to make sure that any marks left on her would be caused by him, and not a side effect of location.

   His arms circled her rather fast after she gave her consent, tossing her onto his shoulder and beginning the walk to his room. One arm held her in place by being draped over her back while the other had his hand nestled against her right thigh, resting right under the curve of her ass. Her squeal at being picked up so quickly rang between his ears like a sweet melody he couldn’t wait to listen to again. 

   To others he may have looked calm and collected as he trudged through the hallways to find his room, but the growing discomfort in his pants made him thankful for his long strides. He had thought about fucking her on more than one occasion, many nights plagued by images of her panting during a fight and sweat dripping from her brow. The only reason he hadn’t acted ‘till now was a matter of convenience. He doubted she would have agreed during the other fights, them having been in much more open and public places. He had no qualms over being an exhibitionist, but he wouldn’t risk discomfort on her part. 

   Meanwhile, MC could hardly think as the warlord seemed to glide through the halls. The feeling of his fingers pushing into the meat of her thigh, and resting so dangerously close to her cunt already had her wet. It was almost embarrassing how she had squeaked out that earlier ‘yes’, but at least she was confident in his desire for her, considering his brisk pace.

  Hearing the door slam open as they entered his bedroom also provided extra proof. 

  She gasped as he tossed her onto the edge of the bed, the mattress bouncing her a few times before her feet settled on the floor and she could sit up. Mihawk had turned as soon as he dropped her to shut the door, the sound of a click ensuring her he was locking it.

   “Limits?” His voice reverberated in his throat with a gruff tone that had her pressing her thighs together in anticipation for what was to come. She almost hasn’t even registered the questions proper context, prepared to spit back that she could take anything in a fight. Thankfully, and with an embarrassed look, she caught herself.

   “Oh…uh…I don’t know…I guess…no like…gross stuff?” She hadn’t done this before. What little experience she had didn’t come with any discussion of limits, nor had the experience even come close to being with a man like him. He was powerful, imposing, and as his hungry eyes locked onto hers she had to catch her breath.

   Was that look really for her?

   Mihawk chuckled as he walked over to her, unclasping his belt and removing his hat before he had even reached her. His hands sunk down on the mattress beside her legs, face now inches from hers as his eyes seemed to study her.

   He couldn’t wait to break her. His mouth was almost dry from the thought, though she wouldn’t know that. Not with the confidence he radiated.

   “Gross stuff?” He repeated with a raised eyebrow and a playful smirk, one she usually only saw when he was taunting her in battle. Normally it would have had rage pumping through her, but this time all it did was make her feel shy.

   “Yeah like… ya know…” Her eyes drifted away from him as she found the eye contact too intense.

   “You’ve never negotiated before, have you?” 

   “….That obvious?” She said with an embarrassed groan, hoping this wasn’t gonna be the end of this interaction. What if he didn’t care to spend that kind of time on figuring things out with her?

    She felt like she could crumble under his gaze until a familiar hand was on her chin, lightly moving her face so that he could peer into her gorgeous eyes once again.

   “It’s quite alright. While I don’t go easy on you for our fights. I’ll be sure to take proper care of you, love. I don’t mind taking my time with you.” His voice was low, almost a whisper, and the tone of it sent shivers along her body. 

   She gulped a little, and nodded.

   “I’m afraid I’ll need vocal confirmation. I need you to be able to tell me exactly how I’m making you feel for this to work.”

   “I….okay…”

   “See if the name sir feels good on your tongue.” He suggested, standing up straight now and peering down at her. She was so beautiful, with her slightly parted lips and nervous glances. Fuck, he couldn’t wait to feel her.

   “Yes…sir…” She tested it, trying to not let the embarrassment get to her. It felt…good. Normally authority over her was something that made her skin crawl, but calling him ‘sir’ had her quivering. 

   “Did that feel good? Whatever happens or is said in this room, you’re in control of. I’ll only push if you request it and, of course, if it’s one of my limits I won’t indulge.” 

   She stared up at him with those nervous, intoxicating eyes. His breath nearly caught in his throat.

   “Okay…it uh…it felt good…” MC stuttered out nervously, her hands down in her lap as she tried to keep them occupied with each other. 

   “Felt good…what?” He tested it, wanting to clarify that she did actually enjoy calling him sir. His thumb pulled slightly at her lower lip, enticing her to speak.

   “It felt good…sir.” The words came out with a shudder as she felt the rough pad of his thumb glide over her lip. She wanted to stick her tongue out and lick at it, but kept herself from doing so. Shame was such an annoying wall to try and tear down.

    “Good girl. We’ll need safe words. And if I check in on you, I expect an answer or everything will stop.” To her shock, he now knelt down in front of her, taking one of her feet and placing it on his pants leg. Slowly he undid the shoe, his eyes focusing on her legs in order to give her a break from eye contact.

   “Safe words? Like what?” 

   He rewarded her question with a soft kiss to her clothed knee.

   “Well, some people use colors. Red means stop, yellow means slow down, and green means go. It has to be words you wouldn’t normally say in a scene and they need to be easy to remember.” He gave her a brief breakdown of the general idea.

   “Scene?”

   “A scene is what you call the actual act. It’s in reference to role playing, but it also helps in mentally dividing up sexual play from the rest of life. For instance, during a scene I could be mean if you wished for it, but once the scene ends I would cater to you and take care of you as you come down, just like you would be for me.” He slid the shoe off finally before his hands began to massage at her feet, hoping to help her relax. 

   “How…how do I help take care of you after?” 

   Her question had a smile on his face as he looked back up at her. “Different people need different things. I like…being of service. And while I’m well aware of my abilities, it can be nice to hear from time to time.”

   She felt the heat all the way to her ears now as she stared down at him. He seemed beautiful, which was odd considering how she had just tried to skewer him. Granted, it wasn’t as though she had been unaware of his beauty this entire time…she just…had been more focused on other things.

   “Okay…I…I think I can do that. And umm…how would you take care of me after?” Mc didn’t want to mess this up. She didn’t know how she could fuck it up, but if there was a way to do it she was confident she’d find it and everything would be ruined.

   “Well, since it’ll be your first time in this way, I’ll probably annoy you by pestering you into telling me what you want. I could give you a bath after, massage whatever part of you I left sore. And, if you just need to be held, I can oblige that. Since I’m the more experienced one, I’m leaving the reins in your hands and simply guiding you.” He then slowly moved to take her sock off, continuing the massage. As his thumb pressed into the middle of her foot and worked out the tense muscle, she found herself wincing from a slight discomfort. 

   Damn, she should get a massage more often.

   “So…we do the colors then…and if I want you to stop I’ll say red…” She repeated the rules and watched him nod as he now placed her foot down and moved onto the next, taking the same careful time to remove the shoe.

   “Correct. And I'll be asking you to tell me your color throughout the scene.” He commented as he began to massage her other foot, avoiding eye contact for her sake. 

   She watched as his fingers seemed to dig into the tender muscles and found it amusing that hands that brought her so much frustration in the past were currently relaxing her. If she didn’t know him well enough, she’d wonder if this was all a trick.

   But Mihawk doesn't do things unless he wants to do them.

   “Okay then…should…we go over anything else?” Mc asked, hands now behind her as she leaned back, watching him work away.

   “Well, typically we would talk about what we want. Since you don’t seem to know, how about we discuss what you’d like to try.” His eyes cut up at her again, gaze alone stating she would have to be comfortable enough to discuss it if they were to try anything out of normal intimacy.

   “I…don’t even know what I’d like to try honestly…”

   “What do you think about when you touch yourself at night?”

~~~~~

  In her thoughts there was a weird blur between telling him what she wanted and now. She knew they talked about it, her nerves still turning her stomach, but her mind was only focused on the hot open mouthed kisses they were sharing. Clothes still clung tightly to their bodies as he had pushed her gently to the bed, mumbling something about ensuring she would enjoy every moment of this. 

   For some reason, despite the long conversation they had, she didn’t expect him to kiss her. In her mind she wasn’t sure if he’d see her as worthy of such an affection, but sure enough his warm lips met her own and all of her coherent thoughts left the building.

   The weight of him on top of her was all encompassing and her skin seemed to burn and tingle with each movement he made. A knee sat firmly against her clothed crotch while he held himself up by one of his forearms. A ghost of a touch down her side had her shivering and she wondered if it was a sign of weakness in herself, or a strength in him. 

   Everything about the man was burning and confident. The way his mouth moved against hers as their tongues intertwined was taking her breath away. Even more so when one of his cool hands slid up her shirt slowly, palming gently at her breast. The skilled and calloused fingers massaged her tit gently and she could no longer keep her mouth on his.

  She had to pull away with a slight gasp, not sure how he got such a reaction from just touching her like this. Heat surrounded her outside of his cool touch and when she opened her blurry eyes to look at him, more heat rushed through her.

   He seemed so…hungry.

   His mouth quickly moved to her neck, needing to have his lips against her someway or another. He didn’t know if she knew of her power. That right now he would kneel and worship the ground she walked on for but a taste of her, and that through his feverish open kisses he hoped to consume whatever he could. All the scenes that had been planned and discussed ahead of time would allow for more carnal desires later, though he decided this first round would be…softer. While he wanted to ravish her, he also wanted to ensure she would feel safe and comfortable in their arrangement. A goddess such as this needed to be pulled apart slowly at first. Broken until she had no choice but to understand just what her place was. His equal, above him? He hoped to bring her to the realization that no matter the role they chose he would serve her.  

   Fuck, she was already whimpering and he hadn’t even done anything. He wondered if he could get her so wet that she would soak through his pants, teasing the idea of it by rubbing his knee gently against her. 

   Between his thumb and index finger he rolled her nipple gently, only pinching at it enough to add pressure and not cause pain. Her mewls edge him on to continue as her arms wrapped around his head. He was glad she was already getting confident enough to touch him. He smirked against her skin as he gave her a much firmer pinch that caused her body to arch from the bed, a little yelp coming out of her cute mouth.

   “Color?” If he was a self conscious man he would feel nervous about the fact he was already growling his words out like an animal. Luckily, the squirming of her pressing down on his leg assured him she loved it. 

   “We just started!”

   Another rough pinch to remind her of the rules had her gasping.

    “Green!!! Fuck, green!” She whined, causing him to chuckle. He lifted himself to lock his eyes with hers again. 

   “Next time you fail to answer, I stop. Understood?” He let his smirk fall before addressing her, not wanting her to think he was joking.

   “Y..yes.”

   “Yes, what?” A stern voice responded and he could have sworn her nipples hardened against the pad of his thumb. Seemed she really enjoyed the power play.

   “Yes, sir. Won’t happen again. Just…please…touch me more…sir.” Mc’s eyes held a shyness that he wanted to replace with bliss. 

   “I’ll do what I want to you and if it’s something you really desire, you’ll beg better than that.” As if to punctuate his words, he rolled his knee against her again. The friction shot electricity through her, clit feeling the familiar buzz of desire that she thought only a vibrator could achieve.

   “Ye…yes sir.” 

   He groaned at that, eyes relaxing before his head ducked down to now kiss at the middle of her chest, thankful she wasn’t wearing some sort of turtle neck or plain shirt. The taste of her salty skin was something he felt he wouldn’t get enough of. 

   His hand that was under her shirt removed itself from her breast, a small whimper escaping as she watched his hand now play with the top of the offending cloth. He pulled the neckline down slowly to the side until one of her tits could spring free. Then his mouth quickly moved from the middle of her chest to her tit, the wet heat causing her to arch once again.

   Mc couldn’t believe she was this receptive to such actions. Maybe it was just the built up anticipation or the promise of what was to come, but fuck was she starting to drip with desire. His mouth around her nipple while he sucked playfully on her boob, tongue flicking and rolling around the bud as his piercing eyes were glancing up to watch her reactions. 

   Mihawk made a note to really test how sensitive the buds could be later. For now he was content sucking and licking at it like an animal, his other hand now returning to its original position under her shirt to pinch and grope. He could feel his cock already straining against the front of his pants and pressing against her leg.

   He was huge…and all Mc could think of was how he would be buried inside her soon enough. 

   With an exaggerated pop he let the tit fall from his mouth before sitting up, grabbing the bottom of her shirt and making her sit up just enough to peel it off. 

   Her back flopped back down against the bed, one arm going to cover her chest while the other hand covered her embarrassed face. He ‘tsked’ before grabbing both wrists, pinning them to the side despite her resistance.

   “And if you try to keep me from taking in this work of art that is your body, I’ll tie your hands to your ankles and use your cunt as my cocksleeve.”

   Was that a threat? It sounded more like a good time if she was being honest, but she knew the real threat was not actually fucking her and instead just letting himself sit deep inside without moving. That sounded…infuriating.

   “S..sorry sir! Yes, sir!” She whimpered as she looked up at him with those same bashful eyes as earlier, lower lip being worked between her teeth.

   “Color?”

   “Still green.”

   Without another word he let go of her wrist to sit up, eyes taking in the full sight of her. He gently ran a hand down her chest, fingers grazing across her nipple before ending at her hips as his eyes drug back to her face. 

   “Beautiful. I can’t wait to see you broken.”

    Mc thought that was amusing since she already felt a little mentally broken, face burning and a small pant on her lips as she looked up at him. Evidently he enjoyed the sight thoroughly, tongue peeking out to lick at his lower lip while a hand adjusted himself in his pants to try and get a little more comfortable. 

   Her eyes followed his hands and she felt thirsty, wanting to see what was in store for her.

   “You’ll have to beg for that. I plan on making you cum in other ways first.” 

   At his words his head ducked back down to start trailing kisses down her stomach, making sure every inch would be covered while his hands began to undo her pants. She wasn’t sure how he got them off so nimbly without moving, but soon enough cool air was around her legs and his hot mouth was kissing at her thigh. 

   His eyes fell on her panties and she realized just how much her pussy might have been soaking them. Embarrassed at his gaze she almost tried to close her legs or shift away, but one of his arms snaked under her thigh and tossed it over his shoulder while he settled between her legs. 

   His hungry eyes were now back on hers.

   “Color?” 

   “Green.” There was no hesitation this time, having learned her lesson from earlier. And, while she was embarrassed, she craved him.

   He smirked and rested his cheek against her leg, his facial hair tickling the skin lightly. 

   “Good girl. Maybe you can be taught…” 

   She would have responded with a snarky comment if his mouth wasn’t suddenly over her cunt, a long lick through the fabric causing her to yelp and shiver. On instinct her fingers dived into his hair, but the low groan that came from the man showed it didn’t bother him. His yellow eyes peered up at her from between her thighs that rested on his shoulders and she was torn between making eye contact and throwing her head back as his tongue pressed firmly against her clit before wiggling against it.

   Maybe it was how drawn out everything seemed to be or the fact she hadn’t gotten any in a while, but each touch from him was setting her on fire and he knew it. Long laps through her panties had her shifting down, wanting to feel more pressure against her cunt then what he was giving. He enjoyed the feeling of her plush thighs starting to shift and squeeze around his head, one hand moving just so he could grip the soft thigh while his eyes closed. Currently all he could taste was the damp fabric, but just the scent alone had his cock throbbing. 

   Slowly he then used his tongue to hook under the side of her panties, shifting them slightly just so he could get a small taste. The wetness on her lips touched his tongue and he realized just how desperate he was starting to become. It took all of his restraint to not rip the undies off for being in his way.

   His other hand snaked its way up to help pull the cloth to the side and he opened his eyes to see the prettiest glistening cunt he ever saw. The way the skin and hair shined with her juices under the faint light of the room felt like an invitation.

   “M…Mihawk. Stop staring.” Her voice snapped him from his thoughts. He hadn’t realized just how enraptured he was with her pussy. He smirked, glancing up at her to see a flushed panting face, one hand folded in front of her mouth while the other was still buried in his hair.

   MC felt so exposed to him that it was embarrassing. The air around them felt so heavy now that she struggled to breathe, chest heaving up and down.

   “Sorry there, little rabbit. I can’t help myself when it comes to works of art.” His words sent shivers up her spine, though she tried to act tough and pout. 

   “That’s so corny.” She commented, just wanting to feel a little more in control. The deep chuckle that reverberated through his chest showed he took no offense to her words.

   “Perhaps. But it’s true. I’ll have to thank you for this meal.” It was odd seeing him with this level of playfulness. During their fights she always assumed his tone was a serious one, but the more she thought back on it she realized just how much he was toying with her and others. 

   “Well, you’re letting it get cold!” Another quip with a pout had him smirking up at her. He’d let her get away with being a little demanding. It was cute to see her embarrassment trying to shift to confidence and he wanted to encourage her telling him what she wanted.

   So, without missing a beat, his head lowered again and he kept his eyes trained on her while his lips wrapped around the hooded clit, gently sucking and giving kitten licks to it. 

   She gasped and yelped, not expecting to feel that much attention directly on the bundle of nerves. A heel dug into his back while her body arched from the bed.

   “Fuck! Too much!” It was almost painful to feel his tongue push past the hood and directly tease her. His facial hair scraped against the rest of her cunt and thighs and it felt just so fucking good. 

   He backed off from the bundle then, tongue pulling away from inside the hood and moving to circle it before another thick, long swipe ran up her lips. He found the sticky juices to be delicious and couldn’t resist letting his tongue dive into her a few times. He kept his eyes trained on her as the hand gripping his black locks pulled and guided him closer to her cunt. His hand that kept her undies neatly out of the way moved so he could rub his thumb over her clit, circling it much like his tongue had been doing before he decided to eat up more of his meal. 

   She felt him groan into her cunt, but no longer could she have her eyes open to watch. The pleasure was building and it was building quickly. It felt too much. Overwhelming. Perfect. She couldn’t help the string of curses falling from her lips as his tongue continued to dive into her pussy, curling and searching for that sweet textured spot that would make her see stars. 

   When he felt part of it, he smirked, his mouth shifting back to her clit while his hand moved to plunge two fingers into her sweet cunt, fingers curling to add pressure to her g-spot so he could milk it for all it was worth. He sucked and licked at the bundle of nerves as her body started to thrash a little, though he noticed in all her panting and “waits” not once did she say red or yellow. 

   A chord snapped within her and a gush all but drenched him and the bed. Her body was shaking, eyes hazy, and chest heaving for air. Her eyes drifted to see him sitting in between her thighs again, looming over her while a tongue swiped at his lip to gather more of the cum and squirt that now decorated his face.

   “Good girl. Ready for more?”

[anyamaris]

Title: Antithesis

Pairing: Serial Killer!Hoseok x F!Reader

Summary: Your dream of seeing the glorious capital city has long been snuffed out as you find yourself outside the walls. Lawlessness and chaos reign as you find yourself imprisoned by the very people you thought you could trust. A fated encounter with a mysterious man sets you on a path that is much different than you ever could have imagined.

Word Count: 18742

Genre/Trope: Dystopian horror au-smut/angst

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Warnings: VERY heavy dark content trigger warning. This is a villain collab so read at your own risk. Adult language, vulgarity, blood, murder, captivity, dystopian themes, lawless society, graphic descriptions of torture and murder, allusions to a multitude of past traumas, mentions of human trafficking, very vague allusions to mistreatment of innocents (women and children), mentions of rebellion, reader is a bit of a masochist, unprotected sex, blood play, I mean he's a serial killer...obvious MDNI

A/N: This fic is my contribution to the Year of the Snake collab I was lucky enough to get an invite to! Thank you to @sanjoongie for including me and to all the other authors for this amazing and fun experience! I'd work with all of you again without hesitation.

Also, thank you so much to @pars-ley @frenchkisstheabyss @yoonguurt and @potatomountain for beta reading and helping me along the way, I couldn't have done this without you. @daemour is the genius behind the gorgeous banner as well. Thank you so much! And my always lovely @cafekitsune for the dividers.

I listened to alot of dark themed music for this, but especially Man On Fire by Ateez, it fits this Hoseok perfectly.

Consciousness permeates the deep black of sleep in the form of screams.

Wet, ripping noises cut through the fog.

Your head throbs in time with the steady thump of your heart, the desperate cries and pleading surrounding your entire being.

I’m too tired to beg anymore, you think.

So just stop.

Yet, the shrieks grow in volume, an almost eerie music blended with the low, soft humming beneath it all.  

A soggy plop fills the room around you and the screams are cut off with harsh gasping.

I can’t-

Wait.

Your throat works as you slowly open your eyes to the truth.

I’m not the one screaming this time, your brain informs you.

It takes long moments for you to process the insanity playing out before your dry, bloodshot eyes.

The normally dark room is illuminated by a three legged lamp, acting as a spotlight.

The scene it’s currently lighting up defies logic, your brain unable to comprehend what it is that’s happening.

The long, lean form of what you assume is a man hovers over a larger form, his back to you.

Rivulets of liquid trickle from the blade gripped in his hand as he lowers it over and over.

“You FUCK-” the prone form cries out, then the knife descends again, coaxing out yet another scream.  

What the hell was going on?

“Fuck you-” the large man, who you now recognize as your captor, screeches.

Throat tight, hands clenching, you can only watch with a numb fascination as this unknown man wreaks havoc on this disgusting monster.

Again, you think, as the blade plunges down.

Again, as an arc of blood paints the walls crimson.

AGAIN.

How is he still alive? You wonder, astonished at the weakening pleas.

“Just…kill….me….”

“Kill you? How boring.” the soft voice of the armed man fills the room around you.

Even in your starved and beaten state, you can’t help but admire the musical quality beneath the raspiness.

“Bastard.”

“Tch, such a mundane insult.”

The arm wielding the blade finally halts, the tall form crouching down to start working at something on the injured man.

You try to crane your neck to see what he’s doing, but his back is blocking your view.

Gurgles and moans echo within the room as you watch his back work, seemingly pulling something from the man.

“Fuck-” cuts through the disgusting noises, “Just…take…her then-” 

“Her?” your savior halts his movements, and you can see him cock his head at the man he’s looking down at.

Time seems to still as the room goes quiet.

This is the moment that will stay with you until the day you take your last breath.

This moment.

As if in slow motion, his head slowly swivels around, following the gaze of the horrid man who's held you here for who knows how long.

Damp tendrils cling to his forehead, trickles of red coloring his face.

The gleam of his white teeth all the more prominent with the carnage painting his skin.

“Well, well, well…I didn’t know I had an audience…” he whispers as his dark eyes meet your own, “Seems I’m not the only monster in the house.” he hums melodically as he studies your form.

Hands bound behind your back, lying on your side, he scrutinizes the variety of cuts and bruises littering your body, eyes narrowing at each new discovery.

“Tch…how pathetic.” he whispers, the depth of his eyes seeming to take on new life as his smile fades.  

“What’s that?” he asks, finally breaking the hold he has over you with his gaze as he turns back to the gurgling mess of a man before him.

I should be feeling fear, you think.

Terror at what this butcher is doing right before your eyes.

Yet, you can only watch gleefully as he yanks and tears at one of the horrible men who put you in your current situation.

Someone you once called “friend”.

Even if you die in the next few moments, you refuse to deny yourself the pleasure of listening to this monster’s screams and pleas.

Not once when you begged for mercy did they ever relent.

Elation thrums through you as his watery screams fill your ears in a heavenly song.

A harsh sound joins the chorus as your body jerks, straining to see the performance going on before you.

The unknown man’s head swivels back to you, eyes curious as a lopsided smile twitches his mouth.

It’s then that you realize that croaking laugh is your own.

The streets of this forsaken city were narrow, the nauseating scent of debris and rot pungent as the filth called humans brush past you.  

Shaking off the haze of your vision, you choke down the bile threatening to rise up at the disgusting smells around you.  

For all you knew, all you did was add to the stench.  

Rubbing your chafed wrists, your eyes stay locked on the solitary figure ahead of you as he brushes past the bustle around him.

For some reason you can’t understand, the murderous deity that unlocked your cage and freed you simply walked away without a single word to you.

Perhaps it’s because he rescued you…perhaps it’s just the lack of having anywhere else to go, but here you are; following a man who just eviscerated a living being right in front of your eyes.

You blink as he turns down a narrow alley in the distance, breathing ragged as you rush to catch up.  

You’re unsure what you hope to accomplish in trailing him, you had been lucky enough to not have become his second victim of the evening when he turned his back and walked out.

Rational thoughts don’t exist in this horrible world, you think, reaching out to steady yourself on the jagged rock wall of the alley as your head swims.

It’s a struggle just to keep your eyes open as you slowly make your way down the darkened path, straining to find a glimpse of that white jumpsuit.  

The lack of dirty yellow street lights down the narrow alley doesn’t lend to accomplishing your goal, and you find yourself sinking to your knees on the wet pavement as a wave of dizziness washes over you. 

Closing your eyes in agony, grimy liquid seeps into the fabric of your pants as your legs finally give, feeling the rush of the void coming to claim you.

Here it is, freed just to die in the streets-

You barely register the footsteps accompanied by the deep, weary sigh before everything goes black.

“Well…fuck.”

Your first sense of the afterlife is the sound of a soft humming fan, a cool breeze washing over you as sharp pain rips through your skull.

Confused, you wrench open your eyes, grateful for the dim light as you take in a deep, relieved breath.

Obviously, pain doesn’t exist in death, or so you hope-therefore, you must still be amongst the living.

Reaching down to push yourself up into a sitting position, you register the soft feel of the surface you’re resting on as you glance at your surroundings.

Rubbing your hand down the thigh of your pants, you are stunned to find them almost dry. 

The memory of the fabric soaking through as you fell is pretty vivid in your mind, the knowledge that you should be shivering to death in a frigid, grungy alley making your head spin.  

Swinging your legs off what appears to be a narrow cot, you push down the thin blanket that is covering you as your gaze brushes over the sparse room you’ve come to occupy.

Well, you aren’t chained up or incapacitated at all, so that is a good sign already.

The glow of a soft light is coming from the half open door across from you, and as your vision clears, you take in the crate perched next to the cot that the fan sits upon; the thick little throw rug that seems so out of place as your bare feet sink into its plushness.

For a moment, you just stare down as your toes wiggle in the soft fibers, blanking out as you take stock of the state of your feet.  

What a strange thing to concentrate on, you think.

Their ragged appearance helps you focus, though, pondering things as you take stock of every cut and bruise.

Someone definitely brought you here, and while this looks like a cell of sorts, the open door goes against that idea of confinement.

Slowly drawing yourself back to reality from your wandering daze, you bring your hand up to your aching head.

Curiously, your fingertips brush over the rough surface of what seems to be a bandage, causing even more confusion to race through your mind.  

Someone had come across you in that alley and had brought you back to a clean, quiet room.

Instead of assaulting you, or murdering you, they’d administered first aid as well.  

What the fuck is going on? You ponder, inhaling deeply to calm yourself, then letting it out gently.  

Curling your toes once more in the lush rug, you take a moment to listen to the noises surrounding you.  

Or lack thereof.  

Apart from the soft hum of the fan, you can’t hear anything but tranquil silence.  

You lick your parched lips, ignoring the scowls from your stomach from hunger; lack of food isn't a new difficulty for you.

This silence is though.

Silence like this was eerie, almost deafening relative to the cacophony you are used to in your daily life.

Ignoring the variety of aches and pains from injuries you’ve long gotten used to, you make your way slowly to the door and whatever lies beyond it.

Tentatively, you peek through the opening momentarily before slowly opening it the rest of the way.

Confusion and relief wash through you simultaneously as you take stock of your surroundings.

The large open area is clean, sparsely furnished and void of any living creatures, two legged or more.

What appears to be an abandoned subway car sits across the room, drawing your gaze as you make your way into the huge space.  

Glancing back, you notice that the door you’ve emerged from is one of two doors next to one another and the large area appears to be kind of like a common area.  

Your feet make tiny little slap noises as you pad across the cold tile, avoiding the small areas that are carpeted as you don’t want to dirty them.  

Whoever lives here seems to value their cleanliness and you aren’t going to tread upon their seeming kindness by not murdering you or worse.  

With that thought, you take stock of your soiled and tattered clothing along with the lack of any footwear.  

“Great.” you mutter, wiping your palms along your thighs just to frown at the way the dried mud flakes off.  

Before you can process how to clean the little mess you just made, and eventually yourself, the door to the subway car creaks open with a metallic groan.  

Your heart flutters in your chest as you recognize the man standing in the doorway staring back at you.

Freezing in place you can only gape, eyes wide, at the man who just a day ago was elbow deep in that scumbags entrails.  

The murderer who tortured your captor and ex-friend until his screams finally faded into nothingness.

He looks much different without the bloodspattered white jumpsuit, wearing a dark hoodie and beanie and a normal pair of jeans.  

Time seems to still as he studies you, his stoic face not giving away any emotion as you struggle to figure out what to say to him.

Swallowing heavily, you feel your cheeks heat as you finally sputter out, “I’m sorry about the mess….” 

His eyes follow your hand as you gesture at your appearance, your clothing and the flakes of dirt on the floor before you, yet he gives you no reaction.

“There’s a shower over there,” he flicks his hand to your right, drawing your attention to a door leading to another room, “Food is in the fridge. You can find something to wear in the closet here.” 

He jerks his thumb behind him, into the railcar he had emerged from.  

You merely nod, a bewildering mess of emotions swirling within you.

You didn’t feel any fear in his presence, only the obvious wariness of the unknown and it confused you greatly.  

This man had killed right before your eyes and seemed to enjoy it…yet he’d also saved your life twice and was now offering you the simple comfort of food and cleanliness.

“Clean yourself up, get your energy back.  I’ll be out for a bit and I expect you to be gone when I get back.”

His words are terse, but not angry.  

Clinical, simple, detached.

You hesitate, but then give him a single nod before he turns on his heel and leaves back through the door.

He wasn’t what you’d expected based on your first impression of him.

To be fair, he was elbow deep in entrails as he tortured your captor before snuffing his life out.

A few moments pass as you listen to his footsteps recede after another door opens and shuts, then you bring your hand up to touch your probably filthy face.

Gross, you think, finally finding your feet turning towards the prospect of a hot shower.  

At least you hope it’s hot.  

The room you find yourself in is completely tiled, both walls and floor, and there’s a drain in the center.

A partition leads to a sink and a toilet and you make quick use of both before taking one of the fresh towels from a small shelf before shedding your disgusting clothing and bandages before turning on the water.

After a moment you tentatively stick your hand into the flow of water and you sigh happily at the warmth.

Stepping into the glorious stream, you let out a shameless moan of pleasure as layers of caked on mud and filth begin to wash down the drain.  

You almost revel in the way the hot water stings each and every little cut and bruise, reminding yourself that you’re safe and alive and that’s all that matters.

Spotting a little shelf with soaps and such, you set about cleansing yourself without any haste, wanting to prolong the inevitable.

Steam fills the room as you ponder what in the world you’re going to do when you leave here, given everything that has happened.

Prior to finding yourself in that cage, your life didn’t look so bleak.

Well…not as bleak as being told you’re going to be forced into paying your debts with your body.

Forcing down the anxiety that keeps trying to crawl up your throat, you focus on scrubbing yourself thoroughly.  

It’s been ages since you’ve gotten a true shower, without disgusting calloused hands washing you, or their prying eyes gazing at you full of lustful thoughts.

When you’d decided to come to the city from your rural home, the last thing you expected was to be where you are now, running from the very people you called ‘friends’.

What kind of friends convince you that their ‘help’ is from a place of care, only to use basic human needs against you?

When they’d set you up with a place to stay, food to eat, clothes to wear you truly believed the best of them.

You’d trusted them, leaned on them naively and really thought despite the squalor of it all that you could make a life here.

It wasn’t the glamorous life that you’d been told about back in your childhood, it was nothing like what you’d read and dreamt of.

Yet, you found people you thought you could rely on.  

Memories of the night you’d been awoken by them, yanked out of your tiny room to be told that it was time to pay up flit through your mind.

Tears prick your eyes to mix with the moisture in the air as you hum softly to yourself, trying to soothe away the terrible thoughts.  

Lathering your hair, you find comfort in the way the soap streams down your face to sting your eyes.  

It was better than hopeless tears that did nothing for you.

Pushing away the useless thoughts, you focus on cleansing each and every crevice as if it’s a sacred ritual before you sacrifice yourself to your fate.

By the time you’ve finished, the water is going tepid and you let out a soft sigh as you reach out to turn the water off.  

Slowly, you grab a fluffy towel from a shelf and slowly dry yourself as you try to make your mind blank enough to enjoy these small moments before you have to leave.

Once you’ve dried your hair enough, you wrap the towel around yourself and make your way out to the main area.  

Picking through the tangles, you go over to the door that leads into the area the man had said clothing could be found.  

Opening the heavy door, you step into a long room furnished with shelves and a large closet at the end.  

There’s a desk at the other end, with a computer and some technological devices you don’t recognize.

It’s not abnormal, given your upbringing in the country, there are many things you haven't seen before coming to the city.

Ignoring the unknown items, and not wanting to snoop in someone else's space, you head to the closet and open it up to find a neat array of clothing stacked and hung.

You take a moment to admire how meticulous and neat this man is, in such opposition to how you first viewed him, kneeling and covered in your captor’s entrails.

Shaking away the memory, you reach out to touch various items, finally settling on a soft pair of jogging pants and a black tshirt.

Hopefully it fits, you think, dropping the towel to pull on the clothing.

The pants easily slide over your once well shaped ass, drawing a frown from you.

You’d lost weight from being starved and while you never cared too much about your body, it was obvious that prior to coming here that these pants may not have fit. 

Shrugging the thought off, you toss on the shirt, lamenting the loss of undergarments.

There was no way you were putting back on the filthy torn panties or remnants of a bra that now lie in the bathroom.  

On that note, you rush back to clean up your mess, too thankful for your host’s hospitality to leave any mess in your wake.  

After a bit of rummaging, you find a small trash bag to dispose of your old clothing, vowing to return these clothes once you’ve made it safely somewhere you can start over.

Your stomach rumbles loudly as you tie off the bag and set it near the door to take with you when you leave.

“Right…food…” you hum after returning to make sure the shower area is cleaned out.

A small fridge sits in a small kitchen area in one corner of the room, and you smile softly as you peer inside.

Everything is so neat and orderly, just like everything else in here.

You grab the closest thing to your outstretched hand, grasping something cylindrical and closing the fridge before making your way to the little table nearby.  

Unwrapping it, you don’t even hesitate before taking a large bite, eyes closing as the taste of spices, meat and veggies wash over your palate.  

It has been ages since you’ve been able to enjoy the simple act of eating, bathing, just breathing freely and you find yourself wiping at your eyes as you make your way through the wrap.

It doesn’t take long for you to finish the meal, sniffling a bit as you clean up and finally look around the place your savior calls home.  

It was a very simple living space that was uncluttered, neat and clean.  

In your mind, the most lavish homes described in the books you’ve read can’t compare to how safe and secure this place makes you feel right now.

It was going to be horrible to leave this behind. 

Swallowing heavily, you drag your feet as you venture back into the room you’d awoken in, making the bed and checking to make sure you haven't left anything out of place.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t do much about your filthy state before you bathed, but you didn’t want to take too many liberties with trying to strip the sheets or anything.

You have a suspicion that the kind killer that brought you here isn’t going to want you snooping around, even if it is for the purpose of trying to launder some dirty bedding.

You make a point to take a cloth near the sink over to wipe up the dried mud you’d trickled onto the floor before disposing of it.

Hesitantly, you eye the door leading back into the long room, and to the door that leads out of this sanctuary.

“It’s okay, it’ll be fine.” you self soothe, rubbing your palms over your thighs as you linger a moment longer.

Gathering your courage, you suck in a breath and walk decisively to the door, grabbing the bag with your old clothing as you make your way out.

Thrusting open the outside door, your breath catches as you realize that it’s not a door to the outside.

You stare at the abandoned subway station platform, pillars casting shadows as far as you can see down each side before terminating in a dark stairway upwards to the horrible streets above.

Your heart thrums in your throat as you contemplate what awaits you.

Vision swimming, you suddenly sway on your feet, hand still clamped onto the door handle as ringing in your ears threatens to overwhelm and deafen you.  

A strangled cry erupts from your throat as you stumble, doing your best to steady yourself against the doorframe before you’re bolting back into the living area.

You barely register the heavy slam of the door as you rush back inside, dropping the trash bag as you find the nearest corner to slump down in a heap.  

Closing your eyes, you bury your face in your hands as you do your best to hold back panicked tears.

You know you need to leave but…

You’d almost rather suffer an unknown fate from the man who resides here than return to the streets above.

You have no idea how much time has gone by when you hear the sound of the door opening and closing once more.

Your body aches from being curled up tightly on the floor, trying to force yourself to get up and leave yet being unable to.

The thunk of the inner door sounds, then the sound of footsteps coming closer before halting nearby.

“Tch...I thought I told you to leave?”

His raspy voice greets your ears, and you finally raise your head and remove your hands to peek up at him.

Taking a deep breath, you try to muster your thoughts, glancing towards the exit before settling your eyes back on him.

His dark eyes study you, but you sense no malice in them as he takes stock of your state.

He crouches down beside you, tilting his head at you without saying another word.

Hesitantly, you try to wet your chapped lips, frantically searching for a way to respond.

“I…I tried…” you whisper, your own voice sounding foreign to your ears.  

His lips twitch down into a deeper frown as he raises an eyebrow at you.

“You tried? Interesting.” He says, his eyes lingering on your bare, injured feet, “I’d think a captive little bird would want to fly away at her first chance.”

Letting out a resigned sigh he pushes himself back to his full height, towering over you as he seems to ponder what to do.

“Thank you for the food and the shower and-” You start to ramble, desperate to convey your gratitude for everything he’s allowed so far.

He hums and waves off your stuttering thanks, glancing around at the state of the space.

“At least you’ve cleaned up after yourself.” He says, toeing the trash bag filled with your discarded clothing.  

You can only stare up at him as he looks around, then settles those curious eyes back on you.  

“One night.” He all but growls out, holding up a finger to punctuate his words.

Your heart leaps into your throat at the offer.

“One night, then you’re gone.  Don’t make a mess.  Don’t touch what you shouldn’t.” 

Eagerly, you nod at him, scrambling to your feet as he speaks.  

A brief respite before the inevitable yet any time you can put between you and the real world is gladly accepted.

You lean over to grab your bag of soiled clothing, clutching it to your chest before rushing to the door of the room you’d awoken in.

His soft yet stern voice halts you before you can hide away.

“And one more thing, little bird.”

You turn to stare at him, ignoring the way your hands shake at his tone.

“If you don’t leave tomorrow…I’ll kill you.”  

There’s a weight to his words that freezes your tongue momentarily, only allowing you to nod briefly before giving him a small smile.  

His face is stoic, yet there’s a glint to his eyes that tells you he’s not making an idle threat.

“Thank you.” is all you say, turning with tears in your eyes before retreating into the little room you’ve already come to cherish.  

Hoseok just stares as you disappear into his bedroom, closing the door softly behind you.

“Thank you?” he grumbles, shaking his head in confusion.

What a strange creature, he thinks, heaving out a weary sigh as he turns to grab some food.

When he’d gotten the alert earlier on his watch that the outer door had been breached, he’d been certain that you’d left and he wouldn’t have to deal with you anymore.

Yet, there you were, crouched in a corner like a broken animal.

He’s witnessed this city breaking some of the hardest hearts, and here you were, invading his private world like a wounded dove with a broken wing.  

People like you didn’t belong here, and the sooner he could chase you out, the better.

Fighting against the pity he feels when he comes across your kind, he focuses on eating then heading into his makeshift office to check in with the others.

The last thing he needs is some innocent, fragile bystander getting in the way of the bigger objective.

She’ll be gone tomorrow, he thinks, sparing one last glance back at his bedroom before returning to his routine.

After waking from a long, restful sleep, you go through the motions to leave.

Trying to psych yourself up, you barely make it to the outer door before rushing back in once again.

“Looks like I’ve chosen death.” You whine to the empty room as you force yourself out of the corner you find yourself in yet again.

Trying to shake off the anxiety lingering from the prospect of going back home, you find yourself looking around a bit more.

He said don’t touch what I shouldn’t, you remember, poking around a bit.  

Certainly he wasn’t implying everyday things within his home.  

You aren’t disrespectful enough to go opening drawers and snooping, but you do take stock of things that are on display.

Not that it’s much; he seems to live fairly simply.

There’s a couch and a chair in the common area, and the kitchenette area is clean and neat.  

It’s such a  stark contrast to what you’re used to.

Your own rented room is barely the size of a closet, you think idly as you wander into the bathroom area to clean up a bit.

By the time you finish washing up, you find yourself eyeing the door that leads into the subway car.  

“I’m not going to touch anything, just look around.” you say out loud, as if asking for permission from the air around you.

Hesitating for only a moment, you open the heavy door and step into the room.  

It appears that he’s converted the car into an office area of sorts; the area where you’d gotten the clothes has a very organized area for shoes, clothing, supplies and storage.  

It’s the other end that makes you realize this is likely what he was referring to.

You still have no idea what they are for, nor do you plan on going any closer to figure it out.

What makes you curious though is that he’s obviously set himself up below ground, in this abandoned area yet he has equipment that looks as if it’s not easy to come by.

Mind your business, you chastise yourself, turning to go back inside.

There’s no reason to cross any lines here.  

Besides, you need to steel yourself and attempt to finally leave.

Just the thought has you almost spiralling back into a panic attack, and you close your eyes and breath slow and deep.

This is definitely not the life you had planned for yourself.

Back in what you used to call home, the books you’d grown up reading had spoken of the iconic city life and the luxuries that were abundant if you were only able to get there.

It had glossed over the fact that it was basically impossible to get inside the city walls.

These writings had omitted how the world that went on outside this utopian city was filled with lawlessness and chaos.

Your naivety had driven you to leaving behind the tiny, simple world you’d known up to that point into a nightmare of violence, fear and anarchy.

You can only mourn the innocence you once possessed before your world was upended by coming here.

It has been only a year, you think, yet how different I am from that horribly gullible girl.  

You could make silly wishes about doing things differently, if only you had the chance; yet deep down you know that it’s just the way it is.

Never meeting the group of people you’d once called friends wouldn’t matter as you know inherently that everyone you may have fallen victim to would be the same.

Your heart still pangs at how easily you’d trusted.

At least back on the farm with the other orphans you had people who were like you.

Unfortunately you fear that you’re becoming more and more like the hollow husks of people you live amongst now.

Why in the world would you ever want to leave this safe haven you’ve stumbled into?

The moment you begin to think of the man who’d brought you here, it’s as if you’ve summoned him.

Your stomach drops as you hear the sound of the outer door opening.

Would he follow through and kill you?

Honestly, that scares you far less than the fate you’d suffer outside of here.

The inner door opens and you’re instantly struck by his sharp gaze as his eyes meet yours.

He’s wearing a dark jumpsuit this time, but the fine blood spatter on his face alludes to what the darker patches are on his clothing.

Yet, you can’t help but ogle his unique good looks.

Of course I’m crushing on a murderer, you think grimly, I’m that fucked up.

He pauses, tongue in cheek as he studies you, tilting his head as if observing a specimen.

You have to remind yourself to breathe as he finally moves, making his way over to set down a bag he’s carrying.  

“You don’t listen well.” He finally says, back to you as he goes into the kitchenette area to wash his hands. 

You take a moment to think about your response, wondering if they might be your last words.

Honestly, for some reason, you didn’t feel terror or regret.  

At least I can look at his handsome face as he eviscerates me.

Pushing away your dark, twisted fantasies, you mentally slap yourself and finally answer him.

“I don’t.  I…” you start, but find yourself fumbling for a valid reason.

At least one that could spare you another day.

He turns and takes stock of you, looking you up and down before just clucking his tongue and giving you a small shrug.

“You’re lucky I don’t like making a mess in my own home.  Just stay out of my way.” he tells you, giving you a stern look before he’s walking past you into the bathroom.  

As the door shuts, you breathe out a sigh of relief and retreat into the bedroom, eager to not squander the time he’s given you.

Tomorrow, for sure.

For a week, the days play out much the same.  

You attempt to leave, you have a panic attack, you hug the corner you’ve now come to call your home.

In an interesting twist, the man has provided food, tossing a bag at you each day he’s come back.  

He’s stopped threatening you, seeming to begrudgingly be giving you the time you need to leave on your own.  

You’ve made it a point to clean up after yourself, of course, even going so far as to deep clean the areas you make use of.  

Life is pretty boring yet that in and of itself is a relief.

It’s much better than the living above, running errands and trying to make any kind of earnings only to be locked in a cage and told you’re going to be sold for your body.

He’s even left what seems to be his own clothing daily in the bathroom for you, and he’d even shown you a small little area behind the kitchen area that housed a laundry room.

How the hell does this man have so much and how did he even get it in here?

Those are questions you leave unasked for the time being, not wanting to push it.

He’s already done so much for you.

There is one question you need to ask, even if he refuses to answer you.

You tentatively approach him one evening as he sits on the couch, fiddling with your hands as he turns to eye you, seeming to sense your presence.

“What is it?” He asks, his voice raspy and tired.

You wonder offhandedly what he does when he goes out.

Besides the whole cutting people up part of course.

Clearing your throat, you take a breath and finally ask.

“What is your name?”

He raises an eyebrow at you, frowning in thought as he studies you.

He’s not going to tell me-

“Hoseok. My name is Hoseok.” He says easily, turning back to type on his phone.

“Hoseok.” You repeat, appreciating the name.  

The silence stretches as you ponder what other little things he may be willing to answer before you feel him staring at you.

“Interesting…and here I thought you’d offer me your name even if I didn’t ask, little bird.” He muses, tilting his head in curiosity at you.

“Oh…I-” you begin, yet stop yourself, shaking your head.  

Thoughts of the woman you used to be has you answering honestly.

“I don’t want to use that name anymore.  I...there are things I want to leave behind.”  You finally answer.  

He just hums, then nods slightly as if in thought. 

“Fair enough…it’s not as if you’ll be sticking around for me to use it.” he says, returning to looking at his phone.

He’s right, you think.  

“I don’t mind ‘little bird’ though.” You tell him, drawing his attention again.  

“Also, I wanted to thank you for being so kind-” 

He makes an almost disgusted sound in his throat, shaking his head and motioning for you to stop talking. 

“Don’t pull that ‘you’re my savior’ bullshit on me. You can’t be delusional enough to think I’m anything but another monster in a sea of monstrosities.  Just don’t get in my way.”  

His words seem harsh, and you recognize their objective truth, yet you still are beyond grateful to him.  

Perhaps it’s remnants of your once trusting nature, perhaps it’s that small glimmer of hope that not everyone in this disgusting world is an uncaring beast.  

You just silently agree, wandering off to make yourself scarce but you can’t help the little smile that curls your lips.

“Fuck, don’t you get bored?” Hoseok asks, plopping down his bag as he spots you cleaning in the kitchen.  

The only thing helping you keep time with the days passing is his coming and going, and at this point you’ve been lingering here nearing two weeks.

You turn to look at him, using your forearm to wipe at your nose.

Tonight he’d chosen the white jumpsuit and you take a moment to admire the artful pattern of crimson he has spattered all over himself.

Pushing away how fucked up that thought is, you just shrug.

“I used to read all the time, when I was back home.” you respond, finding yourself thinking back on the days spent losing yourself to colorful stories and imagining what the world was like.

He lingers at your words, watching you quietly as you continue.

“I grew up on a farm, lots of orphaned kids who worked the land.  It was pretty boring outside of the daily chores...I wasn’t aware of how hard it is to actually come by books.  One of our overseers had a small library and I would sneak them out sometimes.” you ramble, reminiscing.  

He doesn’t encourage you to continue, yet he doesn’t stop you nor does he walk away.  

Taking that as a cue, you just go back to cleaning the counter as you talk.

“It’s funny, though, the way they portray the city.  I came here thinking that it was a wondrous and glamorous world, so much better than life in the country. I suppose it still could be inside. They don’t go into what it’s like on the outskirts.” 

He snorts, shaking his head as you look over at him in curiosity. 

“Just because something is glamorous doesn’t mean it’s not rotten to its very core.  You’d be surprised at how pretty the most rotten fruit can be.” 

He seems to catch himself after he speaks, huffing in annoyance as he turns and leaves the room to go into the subway car.

You ponder his words, wondering what he knows about it.

You don’t mean to eavesdrop on Hoseok, yet it seems he’s slowly lowering his guard around you; that or he just doesn’t care about you listening.

On occasion, you’ve overheard him speaking to someone as you go about trying to stay out of his way.

Or a number of someones, you think, picking up what appear to be names here and there.

Joon, Yoongi, Tae-something…each time you hear him speaking, you catch a hint of them making some kind of plans.

For some reason, you’d assumed by his reserved nature that he functioned alone, yet apparently he has contacts of some sort.

You do your best to retreat either into the room or into the bathroom to shower at these points.  

There’s no reason to give him the impression that you’re nosy; until you can muster the courage to leave, you want to do your best to be non intrusive.  

He could still end up killing you in the end, waiting until you’ve left only to follow you and kill you away from his sacred space.  

It only gives me even more reason to stay.

“What’s this?” you ask, eyeing the box Hoseok pushes into your arms one day.

He looks away, not meeting your eyes as he shrugs and answers, “Sick of you wearing my clothes. Just some shit I found.”

You watch him as he wanders off, unable to conceal the way your heart leaps into your throat.

Gradually, he’s seemed less annoyed at your ongoing presence; even if it is delusion, you’ve started to fool yourself into thinking that maybe he’s even come to enjoy seeing you.

As much as his forever humourless face can depict any happiness.

Rushing off to the room, you gleefully pick through the contents, cooing over the items within.

They're nothing fancy but the clothing is wearable and there are even undergarments within that appear to be new.  Cheap, but unworn.  

Folding them as if they’re the finest silk, you place them aside and continue to look through the box.

There’s even a dress within; a cute little spring green dress with a black bow.  

It reminds you of the vibrant grasslands back home.  

Quite opposite of the dingy browns and greys of this grimy city.

Smiling, you set about folding each item reverently before picking out a pair of pants and shirt, scurrying off to shower and change. 

You don’t notice the pair of eyes following you, softening at your apparent delight before he’s disappearing into his office.

Every day that passes, you linger longer.

Every night that you don’t leave, Hoseok seems to accept your presence even more.

Your interactions are short, simple yet you’ve found yourself talking to him more openly.

He rarely shares anything, but he never stops you from chattering at him.

It’s been almost a month now.

Since when did it become less about fear and more reluctance? You think, slipping out of the bed you’ve come to start calling your own.

Less and less do you find yourself afraid of going back to your old life.

Your attempts to leave are failing simply because you long to stay.  

That was a dangerous prospect, you ponder, yawning as you open the door to the room.

Your foot connects with something on the ground and you halt, frowning as you look down to see what you almost kicked.

A small tattered book lay on the floor, looking as if it had been propped against the door before you opened it.

Your heart pitter patters as you kneel down to pick it up, barely noting the slight tremble of your hands.

Studying the cover, you smile at the faded picture, then turn it over in awe.

A book.

He’d gotten you a book.

It doesn’t even matter what it’s about, you think as your throat closes and your eyes sting with grateful tears.

“I don’t know how you can stay here, without being bored.” He’d said multiple times at this point.

He remembered.

He remembered the conversation about how you used to love to read.

Books are so hard to come by in this place…the last time you’d been able to actually read a book was long before you’d made your journey here.  

Clutching it tightly to your chest, you stand slowly and wander into the little sitting area in a daze.

Settling yourself onto the couch, you just take some time to admire the gift he’s left for you with open appreciation.

You can feel your cheeks heating and you place your palm against one side of your face as you realize that you’re blushing.

Oh no, you think, shock coursing through you.

Am I…falling for him?

Physically, you recognize his attractiveness despite how he tries to cover himself with baggy clothing and his shaggy hair covering his face.

Yet, you know all too well what it means to trust someone with your emotions.

Still, he has given you shelter and has saved your life more than you could ever repay.

The internal war going on right now isn’t good for your anxiety, so you refocus on the precious gift.

Realizing that he may come back at any time, you decide to try to do something for him in return.

Placing the book ever so delicately on the makeshift table in front of you, you can’t help but smile happily as you head into the kitchen.

He’s always bringing home bags of food from his delivery job, so-

Home?

You blink in terror at how your mind has twisted itself so easily into never leaving this place.

Staying.  

Forget it, I’ll leave soon enough.

For now, just focus on making something nice for him.

Your cooking skills have always been above average, it’s one of the few things you’ve always taken pride in.

Growing up in the countryside on a farm, you definitely know your way around animals and gardens.  

You halt, turning on your heel to rush into your room, rummaging through the box of clothing he’d brought to you and fishing out a dress from the pile. 

You push away the thoughts fighting against this decision, and quickly change into it before heading back into the kitchen.

It’s just a cute little green dress with a bow.

Just another piece of clothing, nothing special.

Sure, of course, you think, shaking your head as you set back to your task.

Gathering what items he has within his pantry and fridge, you turn to pull a large kitchen knife out of a knife block.

“Ohhh…” you murmur, admiring the glinting blade.

Of course all of his sharp objects are honed to perfection, smiling at the thought.

You return to your humming as you set to preparing the ingredients for your meal.

Not long after you start, you hear the tell tale sign of the door opening and closing, signalling Hoseok’s return.

You take your time finishing the current vegetable, a simple green onion, before turning to see what he’s doing. 

Hoseok just stands looking at you, his face unreadable as he stares.

A moment of panic threatens to overwhelm you before you gather your best smile for him.

“I hope it’s alright...I wanted to make a meal for once.  I promise I won’t burn anything or make a huge mess.  I’ll clean up as I go and it’ll look…perfectly…”

Your rambling trails off as he slowly makes his way into the little kitchen next to you.

“You can cook?” He asks, eyeing the neatly chopped onion that you just finished working on.

Your heart lurches at his curiosity, elated that he’s interested and not threatening to kill you for staying yet again.

You just nod as you push the onion to the side, grabbing a carrot as he watches.

He looks so good, you think idly as you try not to stare at him.

Why am I suddenly so nervous near him? You wonder, unable to help glancing at him from the corner of your eye as you start cutting.

“I used to cook all the time before I came to this city…” you tell him, finding yourself rambling on about the mundane life of a farm girl.

He slowly slips around the little counter, seating himself on a stool as he watches and you find yourself just talking to distract yourself from your inner thoughts.

Yet, they just keep breaking through even as you speak faster, scrambling to distract yourself.

How the tendrils of his hair brush against his cheek, the bow of his lips curve downward, his dark eyes fixated on you as if he’s hanging on every word.

Swallowing heavily, you shake yourself out of those kinds of thoughts and turn the conversation to something more important.

“Thank you.” you tell him, the heat creeping up your neck from showing as you duck your head a bit while you prep.

At his curious head tilt, you rush on.

“For the book.  I…it’s been so long since I have even been able to hold one, and you…remembered that I mentioned…” 

You shrug a shoulder as you fumble for the right words.

“And the clothing...I mean, I know you don’t really want me here, and you don’t want me to wear your clothing and I know I’m sleeping in your bed and I’ve been nothing but-” 

Your stammering just makes the heat flare up in your cheeks even more, and you wince at how stupid you likely sound.

Your hand seems to move on its own as you try not to panic.

It was just supposed to be a simple thank you-

Then it happens.

You’re unsure what caused it, whether it was how silly you sound, or how ridiculous you look panicking and trying to distract yourself.

Hoseok is smiling at you.

Your heart seems to drop out of this universe into oblivion as your entire being turns inside out.

You can feel your entire body tense at the sight, his already handsome face lit up brightly with one of the more gorgeous smiles you’ve ever been witness to.  

The transformation is so insanely drastic that you lose track of what your hands are doing and you feel the knife start to slip from your grip.

Without thinking, you scramble to grab it with your other hand, resulting in the stinging pain of the sharp blade against your inner palm.

“Oh fuck-” you gasp, stunned as it clatters to the counter, blood welling up quickly and rushing from the wound to drip onto the counter before you can cover it with your other hand.

The sound of the stool crashing to the ground startles you from your shock, then Hoseok is beside you, grabbing your wrist as crimson wells up through your fingers.

“”Sorry, oh no-I’m so sorry, I made a mess, I will clean it-” 

“Shut up. Calm down.” He all but growls, his eyes locked onto your clasped hands.  

“Alright.” You say tightly, heart beating in time with the pulsing in your hand.

You’re more concerned over upsetting him than you are any pain right now.

Did you just fuck up so badly that he will really force you out this time? You worry, feeling your entire body start to shake.

It’s enough to distract you from just how close he is, how he’s touching you right now.

“You’re going to get it on your dress…shit…” he hums, slowly prying your hands apart.

You can only stand still as he looks your palm over, getting his own hands sticky with your blood without any hesitation.

“I ruined the food-” you say softly, sadly looking at the carefully cut veggies that are now splashed in red.

“Why are you worrying over the fucking food when you’re hurt?” Hoseok snaps, yanking your wrist to turn you towards him, pulling you closer to stare into your eyes.

Blinking at him, even in his apparent anger and concern, you can’t help but admire him.

Fuck he’s so gorgeous.

What is wrong with you? You chastise yourself, even as you revel in how close you are to one another.

“I wanted to thank you by doing something nice, and I only made a mess.” You whisper, unable to stop yourself from leaning into him.

His eyes drift from yours to your wounded palm, his tongue darting out to lick his lips as he loosens his grip.

You immediately think he’s going to release you and push you away, but instead he slips his bloodied fingers into your hand, teasing at the injury.

“Does it hurt?” he asks, his voice low and rough as he lightly traces the lines of your palm with his fingertip.  

Dizziness threatens to overwhelm you as your entire body heats from his touch as the pain radiates right down between your thighs.

He seems to notice the momentary swaying as he slips his arm around you, tugging you flush against him without taking his eyes from your hand.

“No.” you finally answer, tightening your thighs together as the press of your bodies give away something you never expected.

Hoseok is hard.

Your body reacts instantly by pressing closer to him before you can think clearly, distracted by the deep need blooming within you.

A soft groan escapes his lips as he shudders, and before you can recover from that, he’s bringing his finger to his mouth.

“Oh god-” You blurt out, clenching so abruptly that you’re grateful for his arm around you or you swear you’d be falling over.

All of your senses rocket into overdrive at this, breath hitching as you slip your free hand up behind his neck.

Finally his gaze flicks back up to your face, his eyes gleaming brightly as he licks the blood from his fingertips.

The sight of his eyes darkening from the taste, his erection pressed against you and throbbing, your blood staining his bottom lip as he sucks on his fingers…

You throw all rational thought out the window and allow your more base desires to take over.  

Not taking your eyes from his, you force your injured hand between your bodies, and into the front of his pants.  

You’re grateful that he’s wearing something loose as you bloody his naked lower stomach, eagerly seeking his cock.

An almost animalistic noise forces its way out of him as your wet sticky hand finally encircles his dick, immediately stroking along the length.  

“Fucking hell-” He growls, thrusting eagerly into your hand.  

The motion brings forth more hot blood, coating his cock and stinging your wound. 

Your panties soak through in the confusion of pleasure and pain, causing you to moan loudly at the sensation.

“Goddamnit-” Hoseok rasps, turning and lifting you onto the counter and forcing your legs open.  

Your entire body feels like it’s on fire as he pushes down his pants, exposing the crimson mess of his cock you jerk him off.

He lets out a guttural groan and you can feel him throbbing in your hand as he pushes your thighs further apart.

The sounds of your combined heavy breathing, moans and cries fill the room as he yanks your panties to the side, his eyes frantically flitting between your face, his bloodied cock and your exposed pussy.

His breathing hitches as the motion of his hips stutters at the sight and without thinking, you slide your hand around his neck to wrap your fingers around his throat.

“Come-” You command, and a string of curses greet your pleas before he’s gripping your hips and crying out as he bursts all over you in a hot flood.  

Your motions don’t stop even as his entire body begins to shake from the sensation, basking in the feeling of him coming all over you in spurts of white.  

Your grip on his throat loosens as his shaky breathing starts to slow, his eyes hooding over as he leans in to rest his forehead against yours. 

A moment ticks by, then another as you both hover in the aftermath.

Before you can say another word, Hoseok seems to come to his senses, pushing away from you abruptly.

“What the fuck-” He stumbles back, and you’re momentarily distracted by the red stain your hand left on his throat.

“Hoseok-?” You ask in bewilderment, the sudden shift in the mood startling you.

“Why…what the fuck….?!” He snaps, bending to yank up his pants, eyes wild as he looks at you.  

A pang in your chest threatens to suffocate you at his reaction, rationality finally returning as he hastily turns and rushes out.  

The sounds of the doors slamming mark his exit, and you’re left seated on the counter, legs spread wide, covered in a mess of sticky come and blood and shaking from this senseless lust.

You feel the tears wet your cheeks before you realize that you’re crying, reaching up to brush them away, only to leave behind a sticky mess of blood in your hand’s wake.

What the hell did you just do? 

What happened?

A flood of emotions crashes into you all at once; disgust at your actions, humiliation at his reaction to you, shame threatening to drown you in all of it.  

You slip off the counter, lower lip quivering as you feel your legs wobble beneath the sudden weight. 

Steadying yourself, you take a moment to gather your thoughts, mind racing at what to do.

You didn’t expect any of this, you only wanted to thank him.

Yet all you did was act like a common whore, letting lust get the better of you and ruining everything.

Tugging down the hem of your dress, you grit your teeth and try to bite back the tears that threaten to overwhelm you.

Right now, you have to do the right thing and get the hell out of here.

Forget the mess you’re leaving behind, all you can think of is fleeing right now, getting as far away as possible.

There’s no way you can face him when he comes back.

This time, it's your fault and the disgust you feel at yourself right now is more powerful than any fear.

You blindly make your way out the doors, finally stepping onto the platform and letting the door close behind you.

Panting heavily, Hoseok finally gets his wits together enough to look around at his surroundings.

He rests a hand against a crumbling brick wall, glancing around the dimly lit alley he’s currently standing in.  

Taking slow, deep breaths, he leans over and closes his eyes to collect his racing thoughts.

An overhead light hums as it flickers on and off, the cacophony of people and vehicles from the main drag almost comforting at this point.

At least it’s something normal, he thinks as he blows out a harsh breath.  

“Fuck.” He curses, balling his hand into a fist and hitting the wall.

He’s not sure what is pissing him off more; that his emotions are so twisted he can’t get ahold of them, or the fact that he bolted immediately after…that.

He isn’t a stranger to physical exchanges, but that’s all they ever are.

A means to an end, a quick nut, then moving on.

It was never anything like what he’d just experienced with you.

Not even burying his blade into the gut of someone inconvenient had ever given him the rush he’d felt with you spread out before him, the delicious noises you were making from just touching him, your bloody hand coating his-

“FUCK!” he shouts, startling some kind of rodent living amongst the trash down the alley.

Normally he wouldn’t be lingering in such a disgusting place but he isn’t in his right mind at the moment.

A flash of your crestfallen face causes him to sink into a crouch and tug at his hair wildly.

Why did he just run out like that?

He can still smell the coppery scent of you on him, his hands tacky with your dried blood.  

He stares down at them, flexing them open and closed as he tries to figure out why the urge to scrub it off isn’t overwhelming him right now.

A shudder rushes through him as he raises his hand to trace where your fingers squeezed his throat, his cock stiff and throbbing already at the recollection.

He’s always in control.

Always.

Except with you.

He’d lost complete control of himself, submitting to his desires…giving in to you.

Impossibly he didn’t loathe it at all and that shakes him to his very core.

He’s suddenly brought out of his spiral by the chime of his watch, indicating that his outer door has been breached.

Spitting out a string of obscenities, he quickly rises to his feet, hand dropping unconsciously to squeeze his crotch to quell the ache.

Surely, you just tried to leave again but probably panicked.

The idea of you crouching in that corner, fear forcing you to make yourself small has his feet moving before he even comprehends what he’s doing.

Certainly, you haven’t left.

Yet with each step, doubt creeps down his spine and before he knows it, he’s all but running back home.

You’re gone.

You’d actually left.

He halts, his heart pounding in his chest as he takes stock of the empty bunker.  

The ruined remnants of the dinner you were preparing lay amidst dark red and brown stains of your drying blood.  

The stool he’d knocked over still lay on the floor, and his eyes catch sight of little drops of blood he’d missed as he rushed in.  

The trail leads right back out the door.

She’d fucking left.

Emotions he’s not familiar with threaten to send him back into a spiral as he spots the tattered book he’d gone through so much to get for you.

Jaw clenching, he forces everything down, setting his mind to what his next steps are.

Day after day, he’d made it a point to tell you to leave, yet now that you’d actually found the courage to do so…

Anger wells up inside of him, making quick work of showering and changing before he’s hastily rushing back out.

He needs to get to the one person he can trust to find you.  

He has to find you.

He will tear this city apart to do so.

You keep wiping your hands into your eyes, trying to wipe away the tears, yet all you do is make them sting painfully with the mess on your hands.

Blood and come, the combination both causes your stomach to flip delightedly but also forces sharp pangs from your chest.

By the time you come to your senses, you’re far from the safety of Hoseok’s place, deep in the mania of the lawless city you’ve come to hate.

Lecherous eyes are everywhere you look, dark scowls and lewd grins threatening to send you screaming back to the security of the bunker.

The problem is, you have no idea how to get back.

Nor do you want to right now, the panic setting in from being exposed like this warring with the humiliation of what just happened.

You can’t deny how much you wanted just that to occur, to be touched by him, to be wanted…

The feeling of being discarded and abandoned hurts you to your very soul, feeling like a lost broken puppy roaming the chaos of the streets.

Increasingly familiar surroundings finally lead you to the tiny little room you called home for the last year.

The fear of your old ‘friends’ finding you is temporarily overridden by the need to get off the streets; at the very least, it’s been long enough that they likely won’t be posted there waiting right now.  

Still, you are cautious as you approach the dilapidated building, slipping quickly yet hopefully stealthily inside and making your way inside through the side door.  

As you finally twist the knob to your room in the way that will jiggle the lock open, you shut the door behind you and press your back to it.

Glancing around, you frown at the mess left behind by the people looking for you.  

The small room is barely a closet, and you didn’t have much to call yours, but they’d found a way to basically destroy it all.

Locking the door behind you, you slowly approach the torn pad you called a bed, sinking down to sit on it.

Exhaustion washes over you as you look down at yourself, eyes welling once more at the pretty green dress that is now spotted with dark stains.  

Cursing yourself for not cleaning up before leaving, you idly finger the specks as you ponder what the fuck you’re going to do now.

There’s no way you can stay here or you’ll just end up right back where you started.

Surely, your reappearance will be noticed.  

Yet, you have literally nothing but the clothing on your back.

Your gut wrenches at the predicament you’re now in, distracted suddenly by the semen caked over your thighs and dress.  

You don’t know what’s worse; fear of being caught and forced into whatever the hell they wanted to do with you, or the pain of not being near Hoseok anymore.  

Rationally you know that your very survival should be a priority, yet the agony of never seeing him again eclipses every other emotion right now.

Falling onto the ruined bedding, you curl into a ball and try to disappear, deluding yourself that the abyss of sleep will reset this grim existence.

“Hmmm…” Yoongi hums, tongue in his cheek as Hoseok gives him your description, nodding as he takes note.

Any other person might pry into why he’s looking for you, yet Yoongi is ever the professional.  

He knows better than to question anyone’s motives or anything beyond the necessary information he needs.

He wouldn’t have survived the chaos and anarchy outside of the city proper if he did.

Yoongi eyes the man before him, eyes flicking over his current state, his unusually controlled demeanor seeming to be falling apart as the moments tick by.  

“I’ll prioritize it.  The moment I get any info, I’ll ping you.”  

Hoseok just nods curtly, pulling his hood back up before he’s making his way out the door.

Of the small group of contacts he has, Yoongi knows these streets better than anyone.

He’ll find you; he has to.

He suppresses the urge to go stab someone to vent his frustrations, focussing on scouring for any sign of you.

He has no idea what your life has been like, what brought you to being locked in that cage the night he found you.

He’d never bothered to ask nor had you offered the information.

Regret fills him as he stalks intently through the narrow, winding side streets, barely noting the way people give him a wide berth.

Fingering the knife in his pocket, he clenches his jaw in determination, ready to draw it on the first person that gets in his way.

Fuck it, he may not even have the patience for a blade.

Whoever manages to get between him and his goal tonight will be choking on the limbs he rips from their body.

The first thing you are aware of upon awakening is the pulsing heat in your hand. 

The burning sting slams you right back into the reality of your situation.

Moaning softly in pain, you try to unfurl your contorted body, wincing at how sore your limbs are.

The disparity of waking up back here fills you with regret, cursing your impulsive past self for fleeing without thinking things through.

Your stomach growls loudly, reminding you that you have nothing to eat, nor do you have any way to clean yourself up right now.

There’s no way you can just languish here, starving and wallowing in your own filth.

Already the scent of dried bodily fluids and old blood taint your nose as you sit up slowly, glancing around the dark room with a sinking stomach.

The state of the room when you've returned lets you know that the likelihood of finding anything to change into is off the table.

Unless you leave here, you are doomed to wither away wearing the reminder of your reckless decisions.

Maybe….maybe it’s not too late to return. 

If there is a chance to find your way back to his bunker, perhaps he will at least give you the possibility of finding something else to wear…

Burying your face in your unwashed hands, you try to compose yourself enough to get the courage to do something, anything to move forward from here.

Hiding away until you turn into a pathetic corpse isn’t an option.

Standing wearily, you take a few moments to breathe deeply, collecting your thoughts, you slowly make your way to the door, sliding your bare feet along the debris on the floor.

Idiot, you chastise yourself, not even grabbing the soft slippers Hoseok had given you before you’d fled.

The door creaks as you open it slowly, peeking out to gauge if you can slip out unnoticed.

If you remember correctly, nearby was a small shop that you used to frequent and it was possible that the clerk might allow you to use the bathroom there to clean yourself up.

It’s wishful thinking but at least it was something to aim for.

At least the dark cover of night somewhat helped conceal you.  

By the time you find the particular building, your feet are already cut up and aching from the uneven pavement.

It didn’t help that you are drawing stares, arms wrapped around yourself as you rush past people who stop to stare as they bump into you.  

A litany of “Watch it, bitch,” and “Hey, come here,” comments have you mumbling apologies, doing your best to dodge the meaty hands that snag at you before finally spotting the familiar sign.

Hastening inside, you let out a sigh of relief at the familiar cramped space that you’d often visited.  

“Hey you can’t-” a male voice says as they spot you, but quickly he recognizes you and you give him a tentative smile.  

A look of concern crosses his features as he takes in your current state.

Before you can say anything, he’s rushing over, gently guiding you away from the door, glancing out worriedly before turning back to address you.

“Look, I dunno where you been, but people been askin’ after you.  You gotta get yourself scarce.” he whispers harshly, his gaze pausing on your scraped up bare feet.

“I dunno what kind of trouble is chasin’ you, but nothing good ever comes from their kind when they come askin’.”  

“I…I know…I wanted to know if…perhaps I could simply use a sink to wash my hands?” your voice is shaking, thin and trembling as you do your best to tamp down the fear at his words.

“Quickly, girl, but then you gotta go.  Far from here.”  He states, pointing to a small door near the back.  

Nodding as you rush quickly into the tiny bathroom, you swallow down the panic threatening to choke you.  

Relief mixed with pain wash over you as the tepid water rushes over your hands, and you use your thumb to tentatively clean the knife wound on your palm.

Mind racing as the grime sluices off your skin, you try to focus on your next steps from here. 

You know you want to find your way back to Hoseok somehow, yet your mind wars with that idea.  

What if he finally decides to follow through with his threat and cuts your throat open at your audacity?Worse…what if he just turns his back on you and tosses you back into the streets to be found by your pursuers?

Splashing your face with the water, you finally look into the cracked and dingy mirror in front of you.  

Your reflection just stares back, eyes full of fear and hopelessness.  

“Oh fuck off.” You hiss at yourself, making quick work of doing your best to clean up.

You return to the shop proper finally, the kind shopkeep bending down to grab something before he’s returning to your side.  

“Get yourself out of this place, girl.” He says, sympathy in his eyes as he drops a pair of slides on the floor before you.

Your heart pangs at this act of kindness, your eyes pricking with heated tears as he pushes a small paper bag into your arms.

“I ain’t gonna say you were here, but you make sure you don’t come back, yeah?” He whispers as you step into the slightly large sandals.

Your throat closes at the surge of gratitude, choking out a thank you before he’s pushing you back out onto the street.  

“Don’t let me see you back here.” he hisses before shutting the door behind you, gesturing in a shooing motion before you’re slinking away into the nearest alcove to peek into the small package.

Two buns peer back at you and your stomach loudly screams in joy at the prospect of food.

Sniffling, you wolf down the offering, rolling up the small bag and discarding it in the nearest trash can, trying to decide how to make your way back.

Yet, before you can even make it a few steps, an unsettlingly familiar voice calls out your name across the passersby.

“Well well well, look who it is.  I’ve been looking all over for you, sweetheart.”

The hard, dark eyes in that deceitful face freeze you in your spot, cursing your horrible luck.

There’s no mistaking that voice, that very particular scar on his mouth marring his otherwise handsome face.

A man you once called a friend, who betrayed you and is the reason you ended up in that horrid cage weeks before is flanked by two of his goons.

As they start towards you, your stomach twists into a knot before you can get your mind to work.

Panic has you contemplating what to do, throat tightening before your flight response kicks in and you’re fleeing down a side street then into an alley nearby.  

“Get back here, you little bitch!” His scream echoes behind you, the sound of their pursuing footfalls barely audible over the sound of your heart beating out of your chest.

No, no, no, you brain chant like a mantra to some unknown deity, please no-

It has been hours combing the main areas Hoseok is familiar with, each area presenting its own disgusting flavor of filth.

He is grateful that he’d brought his motorbike, making the search faster, yet he’s had no luck spotting you at this point.

He has no idea what he expected.

It’s not as if you’re just going to be out wandering the streets.

Yet he makes it a point to search each little alley and alcove; memories of the first night that you’d tried to follow him has him redirecting to find that particular area.  

A chime from his watch alerts him to a message and he stops his bike, yanking out his phone to talk directly to Yoongi.

“Did you find anything?”  He asks, discarding any niceties.  

Unbothered, Yoongi just lets out a weary sigh in response.  

“Not her exactly, but word is out that those trafficker fucks have been asking about her.  Doesn’t sound like they want to have tea and a nice chat.”

Baring his teeth, Hoseok’s face contorts in anger at the words.

It makes a bit more sense now, how he’d found you, the connection.

Their gang was well known and feared even amongst the shitty population outside the walls for indebting naive men and women into all kinds of gruesome work to pay them back.

It was all a front for human trafficking and Hoseok’s hand tightens around the phone as he tries to keep himself in control.

“Give me a location.” He demands, then his watch is chiming not even a moment later.

“Done.  And Hoseok…be careful.” Yoongi’s voice drops into a warning tone.

“Yeah yeah, I know.  I owe you one.”  He responds, already starting his bike back up.

“You sure as fuck do.” Yoongi says before ending the call, and Hoseok can’t even laugh at the man’s normal sign off.

He only has one thing on his mind and that’s finding these assholes before they find you.

Somewhere during the pursuit, one of the sandals had slipped off, then another and you find yourself running barefoot through the darkened, winding arteries of the city.  

Bursting out onto the main street, you grit your teeth as you stumble into passersby, followed by the curses of people as you ping pong through the crowd.  

You barely feel any pain from your wounded feet, the fear of being caught numbing them as it demands your full attention.

As you make your way into another narrow alley, you round and corner only to find yourself faced with a dead end.

The brick wall ahead of you mocks you, as you hear the pursuing footfalls behind you slow, then stop before laughter fills the little area.

“Fuck-” one of the voices pants as your mind races for any option to get yourself away from here.

Your eyes dart back and forth, cursing your horrid luck as you finally turn back around to face your pursuers.  

“Think you’re cute, huh?” Jugeum says, spitting to the side, then wiping his mouth as he stalks towards you.

The man behind him chuckles, catching his breath and pulling out his phone.

“I’ll call the car.” He announces, but Jugeum waves him off, never taking his eyes from you.

“Take your time, she’s not going anywhere.  Her and I need to have a little talk.” He says, a sinister smile creeping over his lips as you back up slowly.

Your entire body feels like a wound up spring, adrenaline and terror causing every part of you to shake uncontrollably.

“Please-” You try to speak, but he shakes his head, the nasty grin never leaving his face.

“It’s long past the time to be begging, don’t you think, sweetheart?” He hisses, closing the distance between you in a moment.

Your reflexes are too slow to dodge the hand that snakes out to grab you by the hair, the other gripping your upper arm painfully.  

Letting out a sharp cry as he twists his fingers and yanks your hair, he shoves you back into the brick wall that cuts off all hope of escape.

“I don’t know how you managed it, but killing Hyun was a mistake.  Now you’ve got me in a predicament.” he whispers as he presses his lips to your ear.

Your scalp protests as he tugs your hair, then he loosens his hold to pet you.

You close your eyes as if it’s going to help you in any way, trying to deny the reality of your circumstances.

His hot breath dampens the side of your face as he continues, “No, now I just want to tear you apart for the audacity.  And running from me?”

His laugh is filled with spite, drawing away to glare at you.  

You can’t even swallow as he finally lets go of your hair, his palm slipping down to cup your cheek gently before grabbing your face and squeezing hard enough to make tears spring into your eyes.

“I’ll find a way to pay you back-” You manage through the fear, but this only seems to amuse him.

“And here I thought you were at least mildly clever. It’s not about the money, sweetheart. I’ll make more off of you than any measly ‘payment’ you could ever make.”

He leans in, eyes flitting back and forth between yours as your noses almost touch.  

You attempt to struggle, but his hand is like a vice on your arm, despite twisting to get out of his grip.  

At this, his amused face contorts into a look of pure rage, his scar stretching and only making him appear even more monstrous.

He finally releases your face, but the momentary relief is only eclipsed by panic as his large hand settles over your throat, squeezing tightly.

“Though, you’re quickly trying me, and I may chalk you up to a net loss.”  

The loud din of the distant crowds fade with the ringing in your head as he lifts you enough so you’re barely able to feel your toes scraping the jagged pavement, his fingers tightening as he watches your reaction.

You grab his wrist with both hands, attempting to pry him off you, but it’s wasted effort and he laughs without any humor.  

“How in the world did a weakling like you manage to overtake Hyun? I’ll make a deal with you, sweetheart.” He snarls, loosening his grip to allow your airway to open up again.

Sucking in a deep breath, your throat burns with the effort, causing you to cough uncontrollably.

“Why don’t you tell me how you got out and overpowered him and maybe I’ll go easy on you, huh?”

Hopelessness overcomes you, thoughts of what brought you leave momentarily flashing through your mind.

Your stomach twists as you think about the what ifs.

If only you hadn’t left without thinking.

If only you hadn’t done something to make Hoseok leave like that.

At least I had a moment of happiness, you think before you abruptly bring your knee up between Jugeum’s legs.

The kick is weak, as you knew it would be, yet you are tired of begging and pleading to this horrible man.

“Bitch-” he growls, but he’s cut off as you gather all the moisture you can in your mouth to spit right in his face.

The sudden shock on his face would make you laugh if his hand didn’t immediately squeeze around your throat once more, tight enough this time to cause bright light to play at the edges of your vision.

Your hands claw at his arm, feet kicking wildly as he hoists you up by your neck and you resign yourself to meeting your end here in this disgusting place.

“Tell me, slut, or you’re fucking dead-” he hisses as you struggle against him.

But his words are cut off abruptly as a deep, harsh voice answers.

A voice you thought you’d never hear again.

“It was me, asshole.”

Your heart leaps in your chest even as you barely make out Jugeum’s throat opening, a sudden hot spray of fluid spurting all over you.

You fall to the ground heavily, wheezing and gasping for air as your sight is filled with red, your eyes watering at the sting of what appears to be blood.

A strangled cry draws your attention as you wipe at your face, trying to understand what just happened.

Coughing and clutching your throat, you watch in surprise as Hoseok straddles Jugeum, his knife rising and falling in a fury as he hacks at him.

“Hoseok-?” You try to say, but it only comes out as a weak whisper.

He doesn’t appear to have heard you, and you drag yourself to your knees, then try to stand but your head spins at the effort.

Over and over you watch as he stabs Jugeum, blood flinging from his knife each time he raises it up just to bring it back down.  

You slowly crawl over to him, unconcerned now with your assaulter, and only wondering how the fuck Hoseok found you.

But that thought is quickly overridden by the sheer joy.

He found you; he came for you.

“I think…” you rasp out, coughing as you finally drag even more air into your lungs.  

“I think he’s dead-” you finally manage, reaching out to touch Hoseok’s arm.

The look of pure rage as he turns towards you mid swing, his knife dripping with gore has you reeling backwards, falling on your ass painfully and raising your hands up instinctively.

The sight of you seems to snap him out of it, his eyes wild as he stares at you for a long moment.

A low whine leaves his throat as he looks you over, his lips drawing back over his teeth as he turns back to hack at the unmoving body beneath him.

You can only watch him as he begins to eviscerate the corpse, sickening wet tearing noises filling your ears as he spits out curses and unintelligible words before finally dropping the knife and leaning back to catch his breath.

He tilts his head back, his throat working as he looks up into the night sky above and you can’t help but admire his profile.

You’re reminded of the first night you met, but this is so much different.

He was so calm and collected, but this…

He turns his crazed eyes back to you, chest heaving with each gulping breath.

Without a word he pushes to his feet and stumbles over to you, pulling you up and trying to smooth back your blood soaked hair.

Your lip trembles at the simple gesture, tears stinging your eyes in a way the viscous blood hadn’t.

No words are spoken as he pulls you out of the place you thought would be your end, dragging you along to a bike parked nearby.

You barely register the sight of another body at the opening of the alley as he ushers you by.

I guess he never made that call.

He seats you in front of him before starting it up, allowing you to lean back against him as his arms cage you in.  

The ride back goes by in a flash, your eyes closed as you process your shock.

Everything has happened so quickly and you are struggling to make sense of anything that’s taken place in such a short period of time.

You’re unsure how much time has gone by when he’s slowing and pulling up to a deserted part of the city, parking the bike beneath a small copse of trees.

Hoseok doesn’t even look at you as he grabs your arm once more, opening a hidden door and rushing you inside.

You barely remember coming out this way, and you realize he’s taking you back home.

Home.

The thought has you hiccuping in a confusion of emotions and he is silent as he guides you down multiple sets of stairs, not even looking at you as you finally approach the doors that you’d spent so much time trying to leave through.

You can only stare at him as he punches in a code to a hidden panel beside the door, then he’s dragging you along into the common area, then right into the bathroom.

“Hoseok-” you whisper, confusion warring with uneasiness at his silence as he rushes to turn on the water.  

Now that you've stopped moving, you can feel how the hand on your arm is trembling; you can see how tight his jaw is as he finally turns to gaze at you with huge, dark eyes.

Without a word, he pulls you both underneath the shower, soaking you both as he finally releases your arm.

But instead of stepping away, he grabs the nearby soap, then he’s scrubbing your exposed skin frantically and you wonder if he’s about to peel your skin off to cleanse you of the blood.

“I have to get him off you-” he’s repeating over and over as the water beneath you turns red and pink before draining away.  

Recognizing the signs of his panic, you step closer and cup his face, gently trying to draw his gaze.

That’s fear, you register in surprise.

Not something you’d ever have attributed to this man.

Fear for you.

“Look at me.” You say softly, dipping your head until he finally locks eyes with yours.

The spatters of blood on his face are finally running off, tendrils of hair clinging to his forehead as he finally halts his movements.  

“He fucking touched you, he’s all fucking over you and I need to get him off-” the words are harsh, his voice almost a growl but his eyes look pained as you shake your head at him.

“It’s okay, I’m okay.” you murmur, pushing back his damp hair to help soothe him.

He bares his teeth as he spots your throat, dropping the soap as he reaches up to tilt your head and study the marks left behind.

“I’ll fucking kill him all over again.” he threatens, and you can’t help but feel your heart melt at his concern.

You try to suppress the urge to laugh at his words, but then he’s glaring at the once pretty green dress that is now pretty much ruined.

“Why did you leave?” He whispers, so low that you barely catch it.

He finally drags his eyes from your dress, to look at you expectantly as the water sluices over both of you.

Swallowing down the memory of why you left, you can only counter with a question of your own.

“Why did you?”  

Though he winces as if you’ve slapped him, he nods at you as he settles his fingers over the marks on your neck.  

“Any reason I give you won’t matter, even if I had one.  I don’t honestly know.” He answers, his dark eyes flitting from your face, to your neck, then to the dress.  

Before you can rethink it, you drop your hands from soothing him to grab the hem of the dress, yanking it over your head and discarding it to the side.

Though he seems startled at your actions, he physically relaxes once it’s no longer touching you.

“I left because I thought you wanted me gone.” You finally tell him, glancing at the cut on your palm as you raise your hand to cup his cheek once more.

His eyes flutter shut at your touch, droplets clinging to the dark lashes as he leans into it.

It feels surreal, standing under a shower half clothed with a murderer, yet feeling nothing but soft and safe as he wraps his arms around you.

“I don’t want you gone. I don’t want anyone to touch you. I’ll fucking kill anyone who does and I’ll kill you if you leave.” 

His voice is coarse, harsh but the only emotions that well up within you are pleasure and satisfaction at his admission.

A deep, resounding sense of contentment fills you as your fingers entwine into his wet hair.

“That’s all I want to hear.” you confess, all of your earlier confusion and pain evaporating in that one statement.

Before he can say anything else, you twist your hand in his locks and yank him closer, crushing your mouth to his.

Immediately, his hands are everywhere, mouth parting to slip his tongue along the seam of your lips.

Your head spins as you begin to tug on his soaked clothing, needing to feel more of him against you.  

He swallows all of the desperate noises you can’t stop making as he shrugs off his jacket, then parts from you only long enough to yank his shirt over his head and throw it to the side.

You can’t help but gasp at the sight of his dilated pupils; the sight of his lean, naked chest before he’s tugging you back into his arms has you needing to see more, touch more.

You barely notice him tearing off your bra as you pull at the button of his pants, unzipping and pushing them down as his hands slip down the back of your panties.

You swear your heart is beating between your legs as he grabs two handfuls of your ass and hoists you up against him, his erection seeming to throb in sync against you.

Your encounter before was hot and heavy, escalating quickly and this is much the same.

Except this time there was no uncertainty, no hesitation as he kicks off his remaining clothing and rips off your flimsy panties with a forceful tug.  

He lets out a low moan as everything separating you is finally gone, his hands trailing from your ass up to your hips, then skimming along your sides.

He slowly starts backing you up, his mouth never letting up as he blindly grabs for a towel.

Hastily, you dry each other, clumsily stumbling out into the common area still dripping with water.  

Uncaring, your nails dig into his shoulders, then rake them down his back as he pushes you into the nearest wall.

His groan has you clenching already as he grabs a handful of your hair.

“I don’t make idle threats.” He growls into your ear before dipping his head down to nuzzle his nose against your neck.

“I know-” you gasp, snaking your leg around his and tilting your hips in a desperate effort to alleviate your growing need for him.

“I’ll eviscerate anyone who fucking dares-” 

His breath is hot on your neck, the sensation of his tongue and teeth causing you to whine weakly as he sucks harshly at your skin. 

“I know.” you repeat as he slips one of his hands up to cup your breast, his thumb flicking over the already taut nipple.  

“Mine.” he snarls as he pulls you from the wall, hauling you up against him only to turn and toss you onto the couch.

You let out a small gasp at the action, and he’s immediately covering you, his knees forcing your thighs apart as he grabs your wrists to yank them over your head.

Your entire body trembles in desire as he hovers over you, his hungry eyes devouring you as he ogles you openly.  

“Say it.” He demands, ignoring how you’re lifting your hips and wriggling beneath him.

“Yours, I’m yours, please-” You cry out in anguish, knowing if he doesn’t touch you, if he’s not inside of you right fucking now you might just die.

His smile has your abdomen clenching painfully, the ravenous look in his eyes driving you mad with lust.  

Before you can cry out another plea, he’s skimming his fingertips down your raised arms, leaning down to press his mouth against yours before he’s making his way down your naked body with his lips.  

You keep your arms over your head as he drags his tongue between your breasts, trying your best to watch him leave marks with each nip and suck.

“I’ve murdered countless people.” he tells you, even as his lips brush over your sensitive nipple.

Moaning softly, you can only nod in response as he grins before making his way to do the same to the other.

“You know exactly what I am.” He hums, his eyes on you as his tongue rolls around the stiffened bud.  

You nod again, arching your back as his lips lock around your nipple, sucking harshly.

“I’m a monster, but I’m not cruel…” he says once your tit pops out of his mouth, licking his lips as he eyes you, “If you want me to stop at any-” 

“I don’t fucking care what you want to do to me, do it.  Fucking do it.” Your voice is hoarse, your entire body vibrating with need.

He raises an eyebrow at you, eyes darkening as he tilts his head at you.

“Dangerous words, little bird.”

You don’t know where or when he managed to get a hold of it, but he produces a small knife, teasing it along the line of your collarbone, then along the line of your neck.

Thoughts of how he reacted to your blood previously fill your mind, and you can’t help but lean up into the blade as he presses it to your skin.

He hisses softly as it pierces enough to draw a drop of blood, and you can feel the wet heat of it start to trickle down your throat.

“You’re fucking killing me,” he groans as you reach between his legs to wrap your fingers around his cock.

“I’m yours, Hoseok-” you say, slowly sitting up and he draws the knife back, your fingers tightening around his erection.

You push him backwards into a sitting position, tossing your leg over his thighs so you’re straddling him.

“-but you’re mine as well.” You whisper as you settle into his lap, your hand pumping at him as his head drops back against the couch.  

Gripping his shoulder, you watch as his eyes are drawn to the rivulet of blood as it cuts a path down between your tits.

A deep primal noise escapes his throat at the sight, his eyes rolling as you stroke him.  

You reach for the hand holding the knife, bringing it up to your throat as you guide the head of his cock against your cunt.  

Your entire body shudders as you drag the tip along your slit, crying out softly as you tease it against your clit.  

His free hand grips your hip, his eyes unable to find a target to focus on as he struggles to look at everything all at once.

Unable to wait another moment, you finally guide him into you, crying out in pleasure as you sink down onto him.  

He sucks in a harsh breath as he stretches you, his pupils blown out, lips parted as you finally seat yourself fully on him.

“Fuck, oh fuck-” He groans, his grip loosening on the knife as he lets it drop, sitting up and burying his face into the now freely flowing crimson running down your body.  

You wrap your arms around his head, twisting your fingers into the tangle of his still damp hair as you start riding him.

His fingers dig into your hips, pulling you down onto him every time you lift yourself back up.

The drag of his cock along your insides is enough to have you already moaning loudly, the friction of your bodies meeting teasing at your clit as you cling to one another.

The room fills with the noises of your joining, his low deep moans blending with your frantic whines and cries.

Yanking back on his hair, your head swims at the sight of his blood stained face and the wild, manic look in his eyes.

The world upends as he flips you both, yanking your arms back up over your head as he starts pounding into you.

“Hoseok!” You scream out, each bruising thrust edging you closer to losing control until your orgasm tears through you with such power, that your entire body is lifting off the couch.

Unintelligible curses drip from his lips as you clamp tightly around him, his own body starting to shake at the intensity of your climax.  

His hips begin to stutter as your cunt clenches around him, pulling out of you quickly and covering your body with spurts of cum.  

His hand still pins you down, his other wrapped around his dick as he milks himself of every drop before slipping back inside of you.  

Your eyes roll back in your head as he collapses on top of you, burying himself to the hilt deep within you as he tries to catch his breath.

He finally releases your wrists, allowing you to wrap them around him.

You let out soft little whines as he lazily rolls his hips, the overstimulation causing you to wriggle and gasp.

“I’m always making a mess…” you finally manage, combing your fingers through the tangle of his hair. 

He hums as he lifts his head groggily, eyes hooded as he gives you a gentle smile.  

“I like your mess.” he hums, tipping his head to rest his bloodied cheek on your now sticky chest.

Your eyes close as you bask in the moment, the realization that you aren’t alone anymore really starting to sink in.

Moments drift by as you relish the feel of him against you, within you, and you may have even drifted off to sleep before he’s softening and pulling out of you.

You let out a sad little whine at the loss, but then he’s hoisting you up off the couch by your arms, guiding you back into the bathroom.

“Let’s clean ourselves first.” He says, and this time you both wash one another slowly, deliberately, taking your time.

Of course, the moment your hand cups his balls and you begin to soap up his dick, he’s quickly stiffening and turning you around to bury himself within you once again.

Hands pressed to the wall, it’s hard and fast, but this time when he finally comes, he buries himself deep to fill you instead of pulling out.

He rests his forehead on your neck as he pants, littering kisses along your shoulder before turning you back around to kiss you deeply.

You sway in his arms, the exhaustion from the night finally starting to win.

Silently, he turns off the shower and leads you out to dry you off, taking his time on each part of you.  

It’s almost humorous how he can go from psychotic killer with a knife to this calm, sweet man who is looking up at you almost in worship as he towels your legs.  

A smile creeps over his face as his gaze locks onto your parted thighs, and you can feel the warmth of his cum seeping out of you.  

He bites his lip as he raises his hand, two of his fingers pushing the mess back up into you as you gasp.  

“Fuck, you’re insatiable,” you whimper as you notice him getting hard once more.

You barely remember falling asleep by the time you’re wrapped around each other in bed, but you do briefly smile at the thought of him finally being able to reclaim his bedroom before sleep overtakes you.

“I’m aware, Yoongi.  Did you talk to Jin?”

Hoseok’s voice rouses you, his tense tone cutting through the haze of your deep sleep.

The ache from various parts of your body throb delightfully, and you can’t help but smile into the pillow as you roll over to stretch yourself awake.

The partially opened door allows you to watch Hoseok pace back and forth, and you can’t help but recall the previous night's activities.

Curling up on your side, you find yourself catching snippets of his conversation as you admire him.  

He’s dressed already, you pout to yourself, yet even clad in the tshirt and jeans, he’s striking.

“It’s not as if I- …it’s complicated, alright? …Yeah, I’ll see you in a bit and we’ll talk.” 

His eyes meet yours through the open doorway as he says his goodbyes before hanging up.  

“You’re awake.” He observes, his solemn look brightening into a full, gorgeous smile.

The sight of him beaming at you flips your stomach and you have to grip the sheets to stop yourself from springing out of bed and tackling him all over again.

You just nod at him, chewing the inside of your mouth as you squeeze your thighs together.

“Hold on.” He says, turning and walking out of your field of view before returning to come sit on the side of the bed next to you.

He’s holding a small box, and you recognize the first aid kit as he opens it.  

“I’m alright,” you whisper as he takes out a tube of something, but his smile turns into a scolding look that has you quieting down quickly.  

“Infection kills more frequently than even I do.” He tells you, applying some to his finger before leaning in to dab it on the various cuts on your neck.  

You can’t help but laugh at this, drawing his grin back out, much to your delight.

A comfortable silence fills the room as he tends to you, allowing you to just study him before returning the favor.

As you finish making sure he doesn’t have any untreated wounds, he takes the medicine from your hands to place to the side before pulling you into his arms.

He places a kiss on your forehead, then your lips as you melt into his embrace.

Your heart threatens to tear its way out of your throat as he finally parts from you, petting your hair gently as he gazes into your eyes.

“As much as I’d enjoy a repeat of last night, I think it’s best that we should both recover some energy before that.” He tells you, the rasp in his voice giving away that he’s just as affected as you are right now.

Taking in a deep breath, you just nod in agreement before kissing his cheek.  

“As much as I want to argue…” You murmur, slowly letting out the breath and his smile lights up the room once more.

He pulls away and stands, allowing you to get up and go rummage for clothing.  

His harsh cough is a shallow attempt at covering his reaction to your naked body, and you can’t help but grin as he turns away while you pull on a top and some pants.

“Hoseok, I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation…is everything alright?” You ask him tentatively.

He turns to look at you, his smile fading a bit as he seems to mull over how to answer.

“It’s alright if you don’t want to-” you begin, but he shakes his head to stop you.

“Come out and let’s eat something…and I’ll try to tell you what I can.” 

He heads towards the kitchen, and you take a moment to follow, pondering what you’re going to learn.

You manage to push him away from the fridge as he rummages, directing him to sit down.

“I owe you a meal.” you tell him, remembering the previous kitchen encounter.

His lips twitch at the memory and he merely nods, placing his elbows on the counter as he leans forward to watch.

You don’t rush him as the silence stretches, allowing him time to collect his thoughts.  

Finally he starts to talk.

“I’m going to assume that from what you’ve seen of my comings and goings…and how you first saw me…that you know what I’m capable of. I’m violent, brutal.  I’m a murderer.”

He pauses as he studies your face, but merely nod as you continue to prep food.

“Your reaction to that both intrigues and terrifies me.” He states, causing you to stop what you’re doing.

“Why would that terrify you?” You ask him, genuinely curious.

He purses his lips, looking away momentarily as his leg bounces.

“Because I’ve come to … care about you.  It doesn’t make sense how you’ve gone through all that bullshit yet here you are, cooking me food and looking at me like…that.” he states, turning back to gesture towards you.

His admission has your heart stuttering, and heat rushes to your cheeks as you try not to grin like an idiot.  

“Like what?” you ask, voice cracking as you push down your emotions.

He gives you a look, and all you can do is shrug.  

“Look…people like us…like me, we don’t love, care, or trust easily.  I find more happiness in death than I do in this abominable world.  You…” He swallows, blowing out a breath as he shakes his head at you.

“I’m not going to use a vulgar word like ‘love’, so don’t ever expect me to.” he declares.

You find yourself pausing in your prep, not interrupting but making sure he knows you’re listening, understanding him.

He studies you before continuing,and you hang on each and every word.

“Letting someone into my life is not something I planned on.  You make me vulnerable, irrational, reckless.  I’m a murderer.” he repeats, as if to drive it home.  

“I know.” you whisper, and he sighs before running his hand over his face.

“There’s more to things…it’s not that simple-you told me before…you came here thinking that you would have a chance at a better life, to see what the city was like inside the walls.”  

His words aren’t a question, more of a statement and you just continue to nod as he speaks.

“What if I told you that what you see outside of here doesn’t even compare to the savagery that lies within the walls?” 

Your hands freeze, curiosity peaked at this announcement.

“What…what do you mean?” You ask, giving up on cooking and setting your knife to the side.  

His next words just floor you.  

“I come from inside.” 

Your heart stutters at this; for the year you’ve been here, not once have you heard anything but speculation about what was inside.  

Everyone merely said things like, “So I’ve heard,” or “Noone really knows but,” about what things were like.

Hell, no one even seemed to agree on how the walls even came into being.  

The rumors were, once you went inside, you never wanted to come back out.

Or you couldn’t.

“But…why…?” You start, your brain racing.

“We escaped.  Out here, there’s no law, there’s no one to police the vile things that go on.  We just exist and do our best to survive.  Inside…when you commit crimes, you suffer the consequences.”  

The tone of his voice drops a bit, eyes glazing as he seems to recall his past.

“I’m a murderer, yes, but in my eyes there are crimes far worse than ridding this world of the disgusting trash that gets in my way.  I’ve heard that once upon a time, this world had a balance, a form of justice.  Now we’re split in two, and both sides are appalling in their own ways.”

He halts for a moment, reaching out to slip his hand into yours.

You entwine your fingers with his, finding your way around the counter to get closer to him.

“The man who hurt you last night-” he starts, eyes flashing as he remembers how he found you.

You comb your fingers through his hair, waiting patiently for him to continue.

This was the most you’ve ever heard him speak and you weren’t going to say anything to interrupt now.

“I’m sure you’ve figured out that he’s part of a human trafficking ring.  He was one of the contacts, apparently.  Someone contacted me to tell me that his death hasn’t gone unnoticed.”

Your eyes widen, stomach twisting at the idea that you may have gotten the attention of someone even more horrid.

“I know he dealt with others, because he and his asshole goons talked about things after they took me before you found me but….” 

You shudder, remembering what could have been your fate.

Hoseok wraps his arms around you, noticing your reaction.

“The people they traffic, they end up inside.” He tells you. “Have you never noticed the lack of women, how scarce children are out here?” 

Your brain races as you recall many moments where you’d noticed that, but anytime you’d inquired, your ‘friends’ had changed the subject.

“I…when I first came here, those men-” you gesture, “the ones from last night…they took me in right away.  I thought nothing of it before, I just thought they were being kind.”

He grimaces, letting out a tense breath.

“I won’t go into details, but as I said before…there are far worse things than death.”

You shiver at the implication, your heart hurting for those who have fallen victim to this disgusting scheme.

Even in the country where you came from, the children you grew up with were almost all female.  

Of course the lack of others here caught your attention, but you hadn’t thought too much about it.  

You’d made excuses,  they were just keeping their heads down like you did, hiding away from the vile men who pawed at you at every turn.

What Hoseok is implying just turns your stomach.

“But…that doesn’t answer why you are out here.  Do you…?” you hesitate, not wanting to hear that he participates in anything so horrible.

He winces, shaking his head at your unspoken thoughts.

“No…as I stated, killing some asshole who gets in my way is one thing.  I don’t kill innocents.” 

You let out a long breath, relaxing at his admission.

“The others and I…we’re going to tear it all down.” He finally tells you.

Your heart leaps, immediately saying, “See, you are a saviour!”  

He grabs your hands to calm you, shaking his head at your misconception.

“I told you, I’m not a hero or savior, little bird.  We all find what they do vile and horrific, but I couldn’t give two fucks what happens to anyone once our plan succeeds.”  

His eyes darken and blaze simultaneously as a wicked smile creeps over his face, causing a chaos of emotions within you ranging from lust to horror.

The pure wanton sadism on his face makes you swallow in confusion, yet you’ve never been more intoxicated by someone.

“Compassion for the weak is for others to deal with.  My singular goal is to burn everything down and take as many as I can with me.”

Deep within the city, walls protecting the inhabitants from the chaos of the outside world, a tall man leans back in his chair as he taps the communication device in his ear.

He slips it off, opening a hidden drawer deep underneath the desk to hide it away.

“Was that Yoongi?” a voice draws his attention.  

Seokjin is staring at him from the window, drink in hand before turning to gaze back at the city down below.

“Mmm.” Namjoon answers, standing to join him.

“And?” Seokjin asks, not taking his eyes off the ordered roads as elites travel from party to party, unconcerned about what their extravagance costs others.

“And the plan may be moving along quicker than we anticipated.”

Namjoon’s voice is even, yet even Jin can sense the excitement beneath.

Hell, all of them have been longing for this.

Long before the others had escaped the confines of this elaborately lavish prison, they’d all shared the same vision.

That this entire world would burn brightly as they held the spark that started it all.

The wick had been lit by seven of them long ago, and the anticipation as it crept closer to the climax was almost too much to bear.

“Soon.” Jin murmurs as his lips curl into a malicious sneer. 

[lovelizards]

"You idiot...you made me wait...!"

Meres' breathing came in heavy and desperate gasps. One hand clutched the edge of the experimentation table, leaning over it and using it for support as his knees went weak.

The other hand was clamped onto Iska's wrist. She was watching him, trembling, as he battled with the enchantment magic. Watching him with her beautiful hazel eyes. They were full of tears, and her face was contorted in terror.

"Meres," the slender man was saying, though even his raised voice sounded muffled and far away, "I said get her on the table! Now!"

A branching pain struck his temples, and he doubled over with a groan. He felt his body moving of its own accord, haltingly, as it tried to comply with its master's orders. Iska cried out as he jerked her closer to the table.

"Please, Meres -!" She shouted, holding onto his arm, "I know you can break through! Please, come back - "

"You useless, addled bastard -" the slender man sighed.

From the table of alchemist's tools he picked up a curved knife and wielded what would normally be used for slicing roots and herbs as a deadly weapon, "- if you don't obey this instant, I will make certain you regret being born for the rest of your miserable life."

Another pang of pain in his head, he closed his eyes against it.

No! Not again! If Iska had to go through any more experimentation she...she would...!

Flashes of her lifeless, pale face as she lay on the table like a corpse, and begged him for death, played on the inside of his eyelids like he was there again. Her voice a whisper, her body more bruise than flesh.

"- es -! Me - es! Come back to me! Meres!"

Her voice broke through. His eyes snapped open, and he looked down at her. Her soft face was flushed from the effort of fighting him. Her hair a mess.

Meres blinked. Their eyes met. She gasped.

Then he turned on his heel, and punched the slender man in the mouth.

It laid him flat out on his back, the knife clattering across the floor. He hadn't even had a chance to realize the spell had broken.

"After everything I did for you -!" The slender man snarled.

Meres crossed to him as he was pulling himself up, "Ingrate! I will cast you into the furthest pits of hell! You are nothing! And you will always be nothing!"

The slender man threw out a hand, mouthing the words to a silent spell. Meres faltered. Was his heart even beating? Was he man, or animal? His head felt like it would burst, like he was engulfed in flames! No! He couldn't die here! Iska...! Iska needed him...!

"Leave him alone, you fucking cunt!"

Iska.

Meres opened his eyes just enough to see her launch herself at the slender man, looking ferocious and wild, with the curved knife in her hand. Already off-balance, it knocked the slender man and a table-full of alchemical glass onto the floor - the second of which shattered and sent glittering shards all across the room.

They wrestled with the knife for a moment. Meres was frozen, his mind roiling in pain, he couldn't move.

"I could have made you a divine being!!" The slender man shrieked - the cruelty gone from his face, replaced only with manic fear, "I could have taken your blood and created -"

"SHUT UP!" Iska screamed, and plunged the knife into his neck.

The slender man choked, blood bubbling up from the wound, and in the moment of his hesitation Iska pinned his arms down between her knees, and drove the knife into him again, and again; "Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!!"

"I...Iska..." Meres mumbled, the pain receding and causing his vision to go hazy.

She couldn't hear him, she was in a frenzy, her hands drenched to the wrists in blood, her dress splattered dark and her tears mixing into what spray hit her face.

"Iska...!" He tried again, louder, "Iska, enough -!"

She froze, and turned to look at him.

Her eyes were vacant and wide, her breaths came in short, sharp gasps as blood pooled on the ground beneath her and the dead body of the slender man.

Meres stumbled towards her, but his vision wasn't clearing. In fact, it was getting gradually worse. The room faded to a blur, and then to a blankness.

"Meres..." Iska breathed, dropping the knife, and scrambling over to him, "what's wrong? What's wrong?"

"I - I can't see..." he whimpered, feeling but not seeing tears fill his eyes.

He tripped over his own feet, and felt Iska catch him - though she wasn't strong enough to hold his whole weight, and they both went to the floor.

"It's okay, it's okay, Meres," she said, and gently guided him to lie down with his head in her lap, "its - it's just the after effects of long-term enchantment magic. It should go away soon..."

He felt her hands on the side of his head. The soft of her thighs under him, and she was so close that her long hair brushed against his cheek.

"I'm sorry, Iska..." he said, reaching his hand up, blindly, to touch hers.

"You..." she mumbled, her voice thick with tears, "you should be..."

Her fingers interlocked with his, tightly, desperately, and she sobbed:

"You idiot...you made me wait...!"

Maybe it was relief, maybe he'd finally gone mad, but Meres laughed.

There he was, blind as a bat, lying in a pool of his master's blood...but he laughed - though a weak, breathy sound was all he could muster - because in that moment, he was happier than he had ever remembered being.

After another moment, the room started fading into focus.

And there she was.

Iska gazed down at him, her tears dropping onto his forehead, and her hair falling over his face. So close he could have kissed her, if he could move a single muscle.

"Iska...you're smiling," he whispered.

Once he was able to move again, once they had both picked themselves up off the floor, leaning on each other for support, they shuffled their way out of the experimentation room for what would be the last time.

The stairs from the basement had never felt so heartening. When they got to the simple wooden door at the top, Meres carefully blocked Iska and then kicked it open - snapping the lock and half of the door frame.

They didn't pass too many servant as they trudged bloody footprints through the manor. No one tried to stop them, not even the house guard.

In fact, the guards opened the door for them as they left. Was it pity? Maybe fear? He couldn't read their expressions, but it didn't matter. None of it mattered anymore.

"Meres..."

"Yes, Iska?"

"My feet...hurt..." she muttered, "could you carry me for a while?"

Meres felt his heart skip a beat.

"I'll carry you forever..." he answered, gently, carefully lifting her up into his arms, "until the end of time."

"What are you saying..." she asked in a huff, her face a heated flush, "just to the next town over...that'll be far enough."

Meres smiled. Iska did too.

And the two of them finally, finally left that place together.

『 Previous / Next 』

[fromstormsend]

Will Gendry be Ned’s Son? (We know how)

⟪“If the day ever comes when Gendry would rather wield a sword than forge one, send him to me. He has the look of a warrior.”⟫ -AGOT Eddard VI

⟪ "Good," he said, smiling. "I will give Lyanna your love, Ned. Take care of my children for me.” The words twisted in Ned's belly like a knife. For a moment he was at a loss. He could not bring himself to lie. Then he remembered the bastards: little Barra at her mother's breast, Mya in the Vale, Gendry at his forge, and all the others. "I shall … guard your children as if they were my own," he said slowly. ⟫ -AGOT Eddard VII

⟪"I bet he's that traitor's bastard," Lommy said one night, in a hushed voice so Gendry would not hear. "The wolf lord, the one they nicked on Baelor's steps."⟫ -ACOK- Arya III

****

There is more hints about Arya marrying with a blacksmith but these are specifically about Gendry will being Ned’s son.

[siriuslyobsessedwithfiction]

My favorite quotes from Kaz Brekker in my fic, which I will most likely never publish because I'm too embarrassed. I just wanted to share these beause Kaz's personality is difficult to capture in a fic without making him ooc, so I'm sort of proud that these seem like exact things Kaz would say or do:

"The desperate men are the worst kind of men."

"The Dregs can go screw themselves, he muttered, I'll tell them if and when I feel like it."

"One thing I've learned in this life, he said, sighing. There was a small smile on his face, There are no such things as saints. Everyone's flawed."

"Being tense and being prepared are two different things. But you seem to be both, in all the wrong ways."

 (Sarcastically) "After this miraculous sun summoner is discovered, all your problems will surely be solved, and all of Ravka will live in harmony forever."

"If they can't pay me back, I'll take the money from their pockets myself."

"Inej is better off doing more useful tasks then trying to catch a shipment thief. If the thief even exists. His own employees might be stealing from him without him realizing."

"I got paid 240 kruge just for stumbling across those morons, and the night is still young."

"I suppose I have no argument with a midnight waffle run."

"At this point, I could just pretend to be another candidate for the Ravkan throne. A bastard, fathered by the King. I'd have more claim than Nikolai Lantsov."

"See, Nina, sweet? You let them kick mud on your shoes, they'll kick mud in your face next. That's why you shatter their kneecap the first time."

"Lost track of time? What's there to lose track of, Jes? Time only heads one way."

"The steadfast members of the Council of Tides who won't cooperate will be steadfastly replaced."

"The Kerch choose the God of trade and act surprised when he doesn't grant mercy. Benevolence has no place in commerce. Ghezen only hears your prayers when you promise profit."

"You can tell her you got jumped at the docks by a knife-wielding seagull for all I care."

[issa-pheonyx]

Since you did goth yan what if you did a twist on that and did goth reader ?? 😵‍💫

Could be paired with any character but im imagining re2 leon being both really attracted to but also really scared of the reader

𝗜 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗸 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗺𝗲𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗮 𝘆𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗲𝗺𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝗿𝗲𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗮 𝗴𝗼𝘁𝗵 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗼𝗿 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗜 𝗿𝗲𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗴𝗴𝗲𝗱, 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗶𝘁'𝘀 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗴𝗼𝗼𝗱! 𝗜 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳 𝗶𝗻𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘁 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗴𝗼𝘁𝗵!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗽𝘂𝗽𝗽𝘆 𝗟𝗲𝗼𝗻. 𝗦𝗼, 𝗹𝗲𝘁'𝘀 𝗯𝗲𝗴𝗶𝗻~👀🖤

▌│█║▌║▌║ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ ║▌║▌║█│▌

-Okay, to start off with people (friends and his coworkers at the department) would find it both strange, yet curious based on witnessing you guys standing together. The rookie with a goth? Now way-oh you were not joking. How the hell was he able to even talk to someone so highly different?

-Now crushing on you may have been the way you were attractively intimidating from the looks seeing how he never met someone like yourself in his life. Of course, there are trolls who have talk shit on the stereotypes which you were not phased by it (as you should💅🏽) , however the rookie cop was not having it, defending you like a guarded puppy to you

-He sees you that you are really talented and protective of your creativity amongst the arts, having strengths of independence and respect for all aesthetics even for being called a 'weirdo' for being goth, etc. He would praise and worship you for having such a unique style and do not let anyone get to you, because those who are basic or just have no taste would usually copy off or project themselves onto you, because you happily and lovingly express yourself

-As more to discuss on the being scared of you part, yes, not going to lie he was shitting bricks when he made the first move. Lets say a scenario of you being involved in a scene saving someone's life who had a knife, but you were not afraid and had the courage to fight off the bastard and wield a pocket knife like it's nothing. He thought you were scary cause how did you get him pinned and second of all what the fuck was the knife doing against his neck you could just threw it aside until the cops came

-So, yes he is scared of you cause of the 'the more you fuck around, the more you're going to find out' energy you hold and having the biggest dick energy cause goddamn you is the shit and you can pull your own weight. Sure, he had stalked caught you intruding an abandoned cathedral, because it looked so pretty outside you just want to see inside so badly. This was a good excuse for him to talk to you more and more as you both walked around, you're taking pictures and videos here and there, and he sticks around you like a damn puppy smiling as you tell him more about your style cause he is genuinely curious

-You and him developed a genuine friendship since you were usually just known as the goth instead of you as a person with other individuals/groups. Leon really wanted to get to know you more and more, but the issue is there are people who will find ways to pick on you both. Leon as the rookie cop and you as the goth crush. People would laugh at the thought of him taking a liking of you cause again you guys are opposites

-Thankfully, you would shut them down with respect, maturity, and boldness in which they immediately have their tail between their legs. Leon would try to be light and taken jokingly on their statements (even when they're genuinely rude) which pisses you off, because hey Leon that wasn't a joke they are actually being assholes. So, I guess right then and there the platonic bond turned to a romantic one-developing feelings for you, because you not only express your love and creativity for your gothic aesthetic, but more as a human being who respects those who deserve it and calls out those who are undeserving of it

-You were also developing feelings for Leon too. In denial at first thinking it could be a dumb crush and you will get over with it. But, no it was real, because he sticks with you again like a damn pup you know the routine and defends you whenever someone disrespects or criticize you. He knows you. Everything about you and knows whatever bullshit they're saying is not true. You always had defend other people who you gave so much respect only to be betrayed, because you will be always the weirdo to them. Not as (Y/N)....

▌│█║▌║▌║ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ ║▌║▌║█│▌

𝗧𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗸𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴! 𝗜 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝘁. 𝗠𝘆 𝘂𝗽𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗲𝘀 𝗱𝗼 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗮 𝗳𝗮𝗶𝗿 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴. 𝗦𝗹𝗲𝗲𝗽 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗹~🖤🫣