#that the blockers would have stopped and allowed me to prepare for

[deleteddewewted]

Trans! Shinso Headcanons

Shinso x Gn! Reader

W/n: This is something I've hc for a long time but also something I've talked to a mutual about. Shinso gives some gender envy.

W: Insecurity, Shinso has parents (Not Eraserhead), Mentions of Transphobia, Intersex Character, Mentions of Needles (Not Graphic/Testosterone injections), Puppy love, Body worship (non-sexual), Mentions of therapy, Depression, Medication Usage

Commissions: Open! (You can commission me on Ko-fi!)

His parents were always upfront with him about him being intersex.

They wanted him to have a choice about who he was and what he wanted to do his health.

The world around them was safer and more understanding since quirks began to appear.

But it wasn't a 100% guarantee that people would be loving or embracing.

Bigotry and hate still prevailed and people maintained divided regarding mutants and quirk types.

They knew that if their child was going to be part of a unique demographic, they would rather their kid be prepared to face it rather than deny themselves from seeking their happiness.

So they did everything they could to make life enjoyable for.

They wen with what their doctor said and allowed Shinso to grow up unique himself.

They gave him the freedom to choose the clothes he wanted to wear and what toys he wanted to play with.

If he wanted to wear dresses they'd let him. If he wanted to have his haircut short they'd cut it short for him.

He was allowed to experiment and enjoy his childhood.

It was the outside world that was a little harder to navigate.

He would wear pink at times just because the color was stimulating to him.

He'd wear bows in his hair alongside his school uniform and he'd get teased for it by his classmates.

He couldn't understand why or the reasons behind the comments his classmates would make about him.

He remembered just feeling hurt and uncomfortable wearing certain items of clothing after the fact, at least in public.

As he entered middle school things started to fall into place for him.

He liked it when people would call a boy or a "young man".

He enjoyed presenting as more masculine and he enjoyed doing things that labeled him "manly".

But he still liked the more feminine things from his childhood.

He would buy makeup and his parents would encourage him to wear whatever he wanted.

He would paint his nails and would do his mother's nails too just because he found it relaxing.

He started using "he" and "him" pronouns.

It felt right. He felt right.

His parents took him to speak with his therapist and see what they could do to better support him since he was nearing puberty and it would create more complications with his quirk and his hormones.

They then took him to his doctors and had all the options listed out for them on what they could do to help him.

He was put on puberty blockers and was later on given testosterone.

The year before entering UA was an event in itself.

He was smaller compared to his other classmates.

He was thin and lanky with a little bit of peach fuss on his face.

Everyone was so fantastical and outgoing while he was the guy with an awkward smile and a raspy laugh.

He felt out of place again but it was now for two reasons.

His quirk was the thing that people focused on the most and it made him both self-conscious and resentful.

He wondered what life would be like if he hadn't developed his quirk. On other days, he asked if it would be easier to just be the villain others made him out to be.

It got bad for the first few weeks into UA.

He switched his dosage for his antidepressants and it caused him to get drowsier.

He could barely focus on his classes and he isolated himself from his class.

Nothing felt right and nothing felt good.

He hated how he looked and he loathed that he wasn't his "heroic" classmate.

He hated that he wasn't as defined or as muscled as his male classmates.

All of it. All of it took him into a deep depression and dark thoughts began to consume him.

He wanted to stop wearing his binders and he wanted to stop taking his hormones.

He just wanted everything to stop.

He just wanted to have a moment to breathe.

Shinso started taking his bike out with him on long rides around his neighborhood and on the weekends he would go out to a trail and just ride.

He was happy with the isolation and he felt like he had fresh air whenever he was far away from other people.

He liked it better this way.

He liked the loneliness because there was no judgment and no pressure.

And yet you turned that around when you came into his life.

When you came into his life it was like something had knocked the air out of him.

Your smile was infectious and your pretty eyes were the most mesmerizing thing in the world to him.

He knew he looked bizarre and out of place even among a sea of students with a variety of physical differences. He knew his presence was intimidating, but you, you were something else entirely.

You were so unique.

You lived your life in a way he did not think possible. You didn't care about what others thought about you or the way you dressed.

You spoke your mind, you embraced the flattering and unflattering aspects of your quirk.

You were free from the confines of teen angst and social pressure.

You looked comfortable in your skin.

You looked like the breath of fresh air he had been looking for.

He followed you around and sat next to you whenever he could even though he wouldn't say anything to you.

His face would get red just being near you and he'd subconsciously improve his posture and puff up his chest to impress you.

Was it kinda of cringe? Sure. Did you find it cute? Yes.

He'd offer up his class notes to you so you could study them if you felt lost during the lectures and he'd even draw silly cat doodles on a piece of paper just to leave them on your desk for you to find.

He was whipped by just how nice you were and how understanding you were with him.

You were always talking to him even if he didn't talk back.

You never asked him about his quirk and you'd never point out his scrawny physic.

You did mention his mustache that was starting to come in. You said it was cute and that he'd looked good with a mustache.

He was so flattered and felt so validated. You made him feel like he was good enough for you despite the fact everyone kept telling him that his quirk with yours wasn't compatible.

He felt good just being around you.

He liked getting compliments from you and you liked being around him.

You both grew closer and eventually, he started asking you to come over to his house to hang out and eventually ended up staying the night over multiple times throughout the week.

You learned a lot about him just by spending time at his place.

You liked cuddling with his stuffed cat plushie and you liked that his room had this playful feel to it.

He wasn't big on decoration but he had posters of his favorite movies and music bands all over the walls. He had those sticky stars and planet glow-in-the-dark stickers on the ceiling right on top of his bed.

He was also pretty open about his transition. (He told you he was trans and after another sleepover at his place he told you he was intersex.)

He would share his things with you like clothes and menstrual products since he always kept extra just in case.

You both would go shopping together and on more than one occasion he has asked you for your input on what binders he should get among other things.

He asked you if you would be ok with being in the room with him when he had to take his testosterone injections.

You both fell into a natural and almost domestic relationship and be it that he hadn't outright asked you out you both just started treating each other as partners.

You were exclusive with him and he was the same way with you.

Once he started bulking up from his training with Eraserhead, he started gaining confidence that wasn't really there.

He was more comfortable being shirtless around you. He even started sleeping without a shirt on when you stayed the night.

And because of this, he decided he was finally going to ask you out officially.

He was nervous of course. You were his first everything. You were the only person who he felt was his support besides his parents and the few friends he had managed to make along his journey to join the hero course.

You'd reassure him and reaffirm him on the things he was doing even if you didn't fully understand why he was doing them.

So as you both lay in his bed cuddling and trying to sleep, he whispered to you just how much you mean to him.

"You've been there for me since we've met and you've ever asked me to explain myself to you. You accepted me for who I was and that's something I've only had happened to me just a few times in my life. I can breathe with you here. I don't feel trapped or stuck anymore."

He took a big gulf before kissing the back of your neck and pressing himself closer to you.

"I love you more than words could describe and I wanted to ask you if you would officially be my partner. I couldn't envision a future in which I'm not with you and you're not with me." He waited in what felt like hours of silence before you answered him with a soft yes.

You both stayed together, wrapped in each other's arms excited to see what the future would hold for you and in your newly established relationship.

[t4tduncney]

please tell me how duncney realised they were trans or just any head canons in general!!!!!

thank you sm for this question i have been looking for an excuse to share these lol continuing on topics like dysphoria, child abuse and HEAVY transphobia will be apparent so please be warned

ok so for Courtney there was never really a moment of realization, she was extremely insistent on being a girl the moment puberty started for her and even before this she was aware of her discomfort as being seen as a young boy and not the opposite. Courtney was allowed on puberty blockers and estrogen very young compared to the usual age that people medically transition at, however while this was extremely fortunate for her it also came with its own issues surrounding the manipulation of her mother that sours her situation when you learn the truth about it. Courtney's parents are divorced and her mother had full custody of her growing up. Her mother, despite the fact she allowed her to go on these hormones and outwardly "supported her" she never saw Courtney as a woman. the ONLY reason she even allowed her to transition is so she would become even more dependent on her mother and for her to feel as if she "owes her mother" something for not forcing her through a puberty that was wrong. courtneys mother, rather then seeing her as a woman, sees her as a failed male that depends on HER to feed "his" delusions, in her eyes shes taken advantage of courtneys "weakened state" to manipulate her into doing only what SHE wants her to do all of the time. in courtneys eyes, she sees nothing wrong with her mother and their relationship, and is extremely unaware of the manipulation shes endured throughout her life (if you want me to get into more details i can but wont in this post)

Duncan on the other hand, while he was never manipulated to the extent that courtney was, gained NO support from his parents. He also discovered he was trans right when puberty started and was extremely open and insistent that he was a man. his parents had always had issues with him regarding "his behavior" and this was like the very last straw. with his dad, there was never a moment where they could bond or talk in a civil manner, it was constant screaming and shouting. however, his dad never hit him, which unfortunately sparked an extremely misguided belief in duncan that his dad physically taking it out on him like he does with his brothers would be more preferred as in his eyes, the day that happens, implies his dad has given in and sees him as a man. (this is WRONG. do not think like this) his mother on the other hand had a slightly better relationship with him, however her transphobia lay in the belief that it was a choice he was taking in an act of rebellion. she tried to plead with him to stop “pretending” and to revert back to the “young girl he was before his onset of gender dysphoria”, and he almost did, for his mother, but living that lie was absolutely unbearable. from having no real support from his parents, he opted to DIY his HRT (if you don’t know what this is referring to, please look it up)

so for both of them they never really experienced “repressing” or having to come to a realisation as they were both young and didn’t fully understand their feelings just yet. but i think these two headcanons play off each other quite well and i think they don’t fall suppperrrr far from what we know about their backstories in canon. anyways here’s some more general headcanons along the lines of their identities;

- both courtney and duncan are heavily dysphoric and have been living stealth for ages (courtney however has been living stealth for longer as she had the ability to pass earlier) but it gets more bearable as they grow and change as people, duncan learns he doesnt have to be overly masculine and preparate harmful misogynistic rhetoric to feel comfortable in his masculinity, and courtney learns to let her walls down and allow people to get close to her and not being bothered if they see her as "weird". - each of them being trans is something they learn about each other later on in the relationship, but after they do their bond grows immensely. at first they both individually suffer with the thought that "being trans is going to get in the way of this relationship and it will never last" and of course it DOESNT go away after learning about each other situations (especially since they have very different experiences as a trans man and a trans woman) but it gets much better now that they have the support of each other :))) - cant think of any more hcs rn sigh

[aerael-a]

          𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐀  𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐒  𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐘  𝐓𝐎  𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓  𝐎𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐖𝐀  𝐒𝐀𝐘𝐒  ;    he  almost  melts  at  the  way  Oikawa  takes  control,  the  way  his  voice  echoed  around  them  all.  It  felt  powerful,  commanding,  trustworthy.  He  tried  not  to  flinch  when  all  eyes  shifted  to  look  at  him  for  a  split  second  as  Tooru  mentioned  his  being  the  captain.  It  was  truly  for  the  best  in  Wakatoshi’s  opinion.  He  wasn’t  a  good  leader,  but  Tooru  was.  

            As  the  players  circled  around  Tooru  like  moths  to  a  flame,  Wakatoshi  remained  behind.  While  he  was  the  vice  captain  by  default,  he  knew  the  one  Oikawa  wanted  by  his  side  was  Iwaizumi.  Not  him,  and  so  he  let  the  other  player  remain  next  to  Tooru.  Staying  back  and  away  as  he  knew  Tooru  wanted.  He  averted  his  eyes  to  the  ground  once  Tooru’s  voice  spoke  those  words.  He  wanted  to  so  badly  believe  that  he  was  included  into  that  ━━  that  Tooru  believed  him,  put  his  faith  in  him  ━━  but  it  was  unlikely.  Oikawa  hated  him,  not  that  Ushijima  could  really  blame  him  when  his  own  mother  hated  him  too.  

            Perhaps  it  was  bad  the  he  zoned  out  during  Oikawa’s  assessment  of  his  team,  but  Wakatoshi  knew  their  playing  styles  by  heart,  knew  them  better  than  he  knew  himself.  He  didn’t  need  to  hear  what  he  already  knew  ━  his  team  was  strong,  their  stats  near  perfect.  He  zoned  back  in  as  the  captain  assigned  teams  for  the  practice.  They'd  be  having  matches,  three  on  three,  rotating  formations  to  test  the  synergy  between  players.  He  was  glad  they  put  him  on  a  team  with  Semi,  a  little  familiarity  would  do  him  good.  He  didn’t  know  the  other  member  well,  he  was  from  Aoba  Johsai  ,  and  probably  one  of  the  first  years  too  ━  if  he  wasn’t  mistaken,  that  was  Yutaro  Kindaichi.  

            A  setter,  a  middle  blocker  and  an  opposite  hitter.  An  interesting  team  dynamic,  but  Oikawa  probably  wanted  to  test  their  abilities,  and  Ushijima  wouldn’t  disappoint,  he  knew  his  team  wouldn’t  either.  He  allowed  Semi  to  do  the  talking,  sinking  into  his  game  mindset.  And  once  the  matches  really  started,  Wakatoshi  finally  stopped  thinking.  Playing  volleyball  to  him  was  a  way  to  shut  his  brain  off  ━━  to  stop  worrying  about  what  his  mother  would  think,  whether  his  father  still  cared  about  him  at  all,  how  his  sister  was,  or  how  much  he  was  hated  by  the  boy  he  liked.  He  could  just  be  Shiratorizawa’s  Ace,  his  only  thought  was  to  score.  

            Despite  being  so  focused,  he  could  see  that  the  Aoba  Johsai  members  were  rather  excited  to  play  with  him  and  by  extension  his  team.  Even  if  they  lost  to  him,  there  were  still  so  lively.  Wakatoshi  remained  victorious  throughout  the  whole  practice,  the  team  he  was  on  always  winning  no  matter  the  formation.  By  the  end  of  it,  there  were  people  making  bets  on  who  was  finally  going  to  defeat  him  over  the  course  of  their  time  together.  Reluctantly,  Ushijima  approached  Oikawa  once  practice  was  over.  The  hadn’t  played  against  each  other  that  day,  and  he  was  thankful  for  it.  He  didn’t  want  Oikawa  to  hate  him  even  more.    ❛        Oikawa,        ❜    he  said,  sounding  a  bit  more  tired  than  he  actually  physically  felt.  ❛        I  will  stay  behind  for  cleaning  duty,  is  there  anything  you  want  me  to  prepare  for  practice  tomorrow?        ❜

Tooru does not grace him with a reply nor does he cast a final glance at the other male. He doesn’t want to waste any more time here. He keeps his back to Ushijima and swiftly walks out through the opposite exit, his ahoge bouncing rapidly at the top of his head from the force of his steps. As captain, he should be present at all times during their training, but he really needs to catch a breather and see if he can find his favourite food. It won’t do either teams any good if he can’t lead them with a clear head. The setter walks aimlessly through Shiratorizawa’s long halls, looking this way and that for the school’s store. When he does come across it, he only finds things like yakisoba pan and melon pan, not milk bread. He sighs heavily and leans against the wall, ignoring all the weird looks students walking by give him. He knows he sticks out like a sore thumb because he’s not wearing Shiratorizawa’s school uniform. Tooru stays there for a moment before pushing himself off the wall to find the nearest washroom.

By the time he returns, Tooru could see that Ushijima has kept his word and got the team started with the warm ups already. Chocolate hues flicker up to meet green and he simply gives a short nod, indicating his satisfaction of the tasks that’s been carried out and merely waits for the rest of the team to come to Ushijima’s call. If anyone notices the slight redness at the corners of his eyes, no one says a word. Tooru can see Hajime staring intently at him and he averts his gaze from those sharp eyes. Of course his best friend would know why. Tooru steps up to the front and stands before all of the players. He speaks with confidence and clarity, his voice projecting in a way that commands for every person’s attention. “I’m sure most of you already know who I am, but as a formality, I am Oikawa and I will be the one leading this team.” As expected, he’s faced with the incredulous looks and raised brows of the Shiratorizawa players, who begin looking between both him and Ushijima. There’s surprise coming from his own team as well. “I will do whatever it takes for us to take victory against the coaches’ team by the end of this challenge. Mina-san, gather around so I can go over everyone’s positions so we’re all familiar with each other’s playing styles.”

When players start circling around him, Hajime stands closest to his side. It’s reassuring to have his vice captain right beside him. Tooru pulls out his crinkled players and begins to read off from them, looking at each person while he speaks. “I’ve already decided on a few formations that we’ll be working with for the next couple of days. I even have the final formation thought out, but that can change. You all have the potential to be in it.” He smiles for the first time since entering the gym. “I believe in all of you.”

[bluebyrd-screaming]

Every dipshit online who claims that they would never let their child start poverty blockers because of the "long term effects" and "they are too young to be making these decisions" does not actually understand puberty blockers and is just trying to pretend that their child is not trans and is just "going through a phase"

Puberty blockers do what they say on the tin, block puberty. It just gets put on pause while you figure our who you are as a person. You can always decide to go through your agab puberty later, thats what they are there for. If it is actually a phase, puberty blockers will be fine

Hell, even HRT is almost functionally reversible, the biggest thing that is not reversible on testosterone is the deepening of the voice

And, yes, I will acknowledge that there may be some adverse long term side affects of puberty blockers, but that's no different than literally any other physical treatment. And because it's something performed in children, the most dire issues (like bone density) are going to be monitored. Idk about you, but I'd rather have a short child with kinda shitty bones than a suicidal kid who refuses to tell me anything. But maybe that's just me

Another note is that puberty blockers aren't just handed out like candy. Your kid has to be openly trans for a while and actively seeking out transitioning for any doctor to consider giving it as an option

Stop denying your kids medical procedures because of your bigotry

[just-dreaming-marvel]

The Bond Between Us ~ 8

THE BOND BETWEEN US MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 3,335ish

Summary: Obi-Wan and yourself go after Jango Fett, ending up on Geonosis.

Warning: slight angst, death

Notes: Please tell me your thoughts on the chapter! I would love to hear them!

The starship was silent as you and Obi-Wan piloted the ship, following the tracker Obi-Wan had placed on Jango’s. You were grateful that you had left your cloak in the ship to stay dry because you had found your wound bleeding. You made sure to quickly hide it away from the Jedi Master you were with using your cloak. As you flew, you could feel Obi-Wan’s slight frustration toward you and the Council. You knew why he was frustrated at you, he had suspicions of your injury being worse than what you were telling him, but why the Council?

As you exited lightspeed and caught up with Jango’s ship, you were almost immediately surrounded by asteroids. 

“He knows we’ve followed him,” you said, having sensed it.

A device floated out of Jango’s ship. R4 beeped at the two of you.

“Seismic charges,” Obi-Wan stated. “Stand by.”

The ship dodged the blast before another one was launched in your direction. The maneuvers that Obi-Wan had the ship do, jostled you. You let out a small whimper.

“Are you alright, little star?” Obi-Wan asked.

“I’m fine!” You responded quickly. “Just wasn’t prepared for those moves, is all.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

Obi-Wan led your ship through an asteroid that Jango had flown into. You let Obi-Wan to most of the piloting, having less experience in it. When you left the asteroid, Jango flew down from behind you and began firing at your ship.

“Oh, blast! This is why I hate flying!” Obi-Wan exclaimed.

“Need some help?” You asked, willing to do what was necessary.

“I’ve got this all under control. You just sit back there and keep pretending like your side isn’t bleeding out.”

“Obi, I—“

“Not now.”

You sighed, sitting back as you let Obi-Wan maneuver the ship around the blasts and asteroids. Right next to R4, the ship was hit. You turned out the window to see that they had launched a targeting missile your way. Obi-Wan began dodging the asteroids, trying to lose the missile.

“Have R4 lose the spare part canisters,” you suggested. “It will give the missile something to hit.”

“R4, prepare to jettison the spare part canisters,” Obi-Wan ordered. R4 beeped in reply. “Fire them now!”

The missile hit the spare parts, allowing Obi-Wan to hide the ship on an asteroid. Obi-Wan turned off the ship so that it would not read on Jango’s sensors.

“Master,” you tried to start up a conversation, “I am sorry that I lied about my side… I just didn’t want you to worry.”

“I always worry about you, my little star,” Obi-Wan replied, just above a whisper. “I have for the last ten years and I will continue to do so. Especially now since…” Obi-Wan stopped himself. 

“Since what?”

Since I’ve realized what the Council is creating you into without your knowledge, he thought to himself, having still felt you blocking him. He shook his head. “Nothing. It’s nothing. And… you don’t have to call me ‘Master’, not when it’s just you and I.” You nodded, staying silent as you slowly took down your blockers. “Well, R4, I think we’ve waited long enough.”

R4 beeped, turning the ship back on. Obi-Wan began flying toward the planet. You groaned as you began to feel a migraine coming on. You knew it was from the Force, darkness seeping from this planet. Obi-Wan could sense that you were feeling something.

“Y/N, what’s going on back there?” He asked.

“Darkness…” you breathed out. “Almost like Kamino… darkness shrouds this planet.”

“We’ll be careful then,” Obi-Wan observed the area you were flying closer to. “There’s an unusual concentration of Federation ships over there.”

Obi-Wan flew the ship to one of the canyons and landed it. He got out of the ship before helping you out. You winced at the pain.

“You should stay here,” he said.

“No,” you shook your head. “I can handle this. I’m coming with you.”

“Fine. But stay close.”

~~~

You and Obi-Wan followed the Force and snuck into one of the buildings on the planet. The two of you walked carefully and quietly, following the sounds of machinery. You looked over the edge to see battle droids being made. Obi-Wan and yourself shared a look before venturing further into the building. It didn’t take long for you to find a group of people walking. Hiding behind a wall, you and Obi-Wan listened in. Obi-Wan kept you behind him so that he could protect you more.

“We must persuade the Commerce Guild and the Corporate Alliance to sign the treaty,” the first man stated.

“What about the Senator from Naboo?” A second man asked. “Is she dead yet? I am not signing your treaty until I have her head on my desk.”

“I am a man of my word, Viceroy.”

“With these new battle droids we’ve built for you, you will have the finest army in the galaxy,” another said.

You and Obi-Wan followed the group into another room. You two found a spot higher up to listen and watch. The group had seated themselves at a large, round table.

“As I explained to your earlier, I am quite convinced that 10,000 more systems will rally to our cause with your support, gentlemen,” the first man said.

“Is that—“

“Count Dooku,” Obi-Wan interrupted you.

“The Techno Union army is at your disposal, Count,” one of them stated.

“The Banking Clan will sign your treaty,” another one added.

“Good,” Dooku said. “Very good. Our friends from the Trade Federation have pledged their support, and when their battle droids are combined with yours, we shall have an army greater than any in the galaxy. The Jedi will be overwhelmed. The Republic will agree to any demands we make.”

“Come, let’s go,” Obi-Wan whispered, grabbing your hand to pull you along. “We must inform the Council.”

You nodded, allowing Obi-Wan to drag you along. 

~~~

Anakin and Padme had been fine on Naboo until Anakin’s dreams of his mother grew worse. They ended up on Tatooine, where they found that a man named Cliegg Lars had bought your mother and married her. They met the man and his son. They told Anakin and Padme that your mother had been taken by Tuskens and that it was no use to go after her. They believed her to be dead. Anakin couldn’t take that as an answer. Even if Shmi was dead, he was going to bring back her body. He couldn’t even imagine what telling you would be like if he didn’t know for sure, especially since he had just been allowed to have a relationship with you again. So Anakin left Padme with the Lars and went searching for the Tuskens. 

When he found their camp, Anakin crept through it. He used the Force to find his way to the right hut. Once found, he used his lightsaber to cut a hole in the back of it and entered. Anger grew inside the young Padawan at the sight of his mother hanging from a wooden frame. Shmi was bloodied and terribly beaten. Anakin rushed over to cut her free before lowering her to the ground with him and cradling her tenderly.

“Mom? Mom?” He called, trying to get a reaction from her.

“Ani?” Shmi rasped. Her eyelids fluttered, barely open. “Ani? Is it you?”

“I’m here, mom. You’re safe.”

“Ani? Ani?” One of her trembling hands came up to his face. “Oh, you look so handsome… my son. Oh, my grown-up son…” She glanced around the best she could. “Is Y/N with you?”

“No,” Anakin shook his head, tears filling his eyes. “She’s not. But I’m going to get you out of here and take you to her, alright? Just hang on, okay?”

“I’m so proud of you, Ani. You and your sister… I have missed you both so much… Now I am complete… I love y—“

Anakin could sense that his mother was slipping away. “Stay with me, mom.”

Shmi’s hand slipped from Anakin’s face. “I love—I— I love…”

Shmi didn’t get to finish her thought, dying in Anakin’s arms. He drew her closer to him, crying into her for a moment before looking up with newfound anger in his eyes.

~~~

You were about halfway to the ship when you suddenly fell to your knees. Your hands came up to your chest as you began to struggle for breath. Your senses were overwhelmed with terrible pain. Obi-Wan could feel it coming from you, though it was clearly not yours.

“Little star,” he called, getting to his knees in front of you. He cupped your cheeks, your tears streaming down into his hands. “Y/N, focus on me. What’s going on?”

“I… pain…” you rasped, unable to get a full breath of air. “Ter… terrible… pain…”

“Close your eyes and focus on the source.”

You closed your eyes and used the Force to try and find where it was coming from.

“Mom,” you gasped. “Anakin.”

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan repeated. “Anakin’s with Padme on Naboo. He is safe.”

“Death… someone… someone has died…”

That sparked something from Obi-Wan’s memories. “Anakin’s dreams… Come here.” 

Obi-Wan’s arms came around your back and under your knees before he lifted you into his chest. He walked with speed but was extra careful since he knew your side was still wounded. When he reached the ship, he set you down to sit on the edge of one of the wings. Obi-Wan poured his signature out to yours, trying to do anything to calm you and get you centered again. You were trembling as you sat there. You closed your eyes and began to try and figure out what was happening yourself.

“I’m going to be right here,” Obi-Wan said, kissing your forehead like he had done it a million times before. “I’m going to try and reach the Council.” 

He and R4 quickly got to work. You kept your eyes closed, trying to ground yourself in the Force. You could feel Obi-Wan’s signature and you grasped onto it, hoping it would help. You were still focusing when Obi-Wan spoke up again.

“The transmitter is working, but we’re not receiving a return signal,” he said. “Coruscant’s too far.” You made no move to help him, still trying to center yourself. “R4, can you boost the power?” The droid beeped. “We’ll have to try something else.” R4 agreed as the Jedi slipped into the pilot seat. “Maybe we can contact Anakin on Naboo. It’s much closer.” Obi-Wan pressed a few buttons before trying. “Anakin? Anakin, do you copy? This is Obi-Wan Kenobi. Anakin.” Obi-Wan sighed. “He’s not on Naboo. I’m going to try and widen the range. I do hope nothing’s happened to him.” 

He glanced your way. You were still unmoving and seemingly in deep focus. He was beginning to worry that maybe that is what you felt, something happening to Anakin. The screen in front of him found Anakin’s tracking signal, pulling his attention back to it.

“That’s Anakin’s tracking signal alright, but it’s coming from Tatooine,” Obi-Wan stated. He pulled himself out of the pilot’s seat. “What in the blazes is he doing there? I told him to stay on Naboo.”

“My mother…” You whispered. Obi-Wan’s head snapped in your direction. “It was my mother’s death… Anakin was there…” You looked up at Obi-Wan, tears falling down your face. “That’s what I felt.”

“Little star…” Obi-Wan went to reach out to comfort you but you shook your head and slid to stand on the ground.

“We haven’t got much time.” You wiped away your tears with your cloak. “You need to send him the message.”

Obi-Wan nodded, reluctantly turning his focus onto R4. “Anakin? Anakin, do you copy? This is Obi-Wan Kenobi. Anakin, mine and Y/N’s long-range transmitter has been knocked out. Retransmit this message to Coruscant. We have tracked the bounty hunter, Jango Fett, to the droid foundries on Geonosis. The Trade Federation is to take delivery of a droid army here and it is clear the Viceroy Gunray is behind the assassination attempts on Senator Amidala. The Commerce Guilds and the Corporate Alliance have both pledged their armies to Count Dooku and are forming a—“ 

Obi-Wan stopped talking, staring at something from behind you. Your head snapped in the direction that Obi-Wan was looking. Large battle droids were heading your way.

“Wait,” Obi-Wan said as he retrieved his lightsaber. “Y/N, get behind me!”

You ignited your lightsaber and did as you were told. You and Obi-Wan worked together as you tried to fight off the droids and deflect the shots. Unfortunately, the two of you were overcome and forced to be taken into custody. You and Obi-Wan were brought into a room and lifted into tractor beams. Your wrists and ankles were bound to the beam as you slowly turned in circles, Obi-Wan being the same. Your cloaks and lightsabers had been taken off. This allowed Obi-Wan to see that your side was still bleeding.

“You shouldn’t have lied about your side,” Obi-Wan reprimanded. “It needs to be checked over.”

“When we’re out of this mess, you can escort me personally to one of the doctors at the Temple,” you replied. “If that makes you feel better.”

“It’s not a joke, little star.”

“I didn’t say it was.”

The door opened and in came Count Dooku. You could feel the arrogance radiating off of him. You had to bite back a flinch.

“Traitor,” Obi-Wan fired at him.

“Oh, no, my friends. This is a mistake, a terrible mistake,” Count Dooku responded. “They have gone too far. This is madness.”

“I thought you were the leader here, Dooku.”

“This had nothing to do with me, I assure you. I will petition immediately to have you both set free.” Dooku began walking around the room.

“Well, I hope it doesn’t take too long. We have work to do.”

“Of course. And your Padawan here is clearly injured and in need of medical attention.”

“I’m fine,” you responded sharply.

“Yes, I’m sure… May I ask why a Jedi Knight and the Council’s precious Padawan are all the way out here on Geonosis?”

“We’ve been tracking a bounty hunter named Jango Fett,” Obi-Wan explained. “Do you know him?”

“There are no bounty hunters here that I am aware of.” You rolled your eyes at his clearly false answer. “The Geonosians don’t trust them.”

“Who can blame them? But he is here, I can assure you.”

“It’s a great pity that our paths have never crossed before, Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon always spoke very highly of you.” You could feel the heartache that was brought up in Obi-Wan at the mention of his deceased Master. “I wish he were still alive. I could use his help right now.”

“Qui-Gon Jinn would never join you,” you argued. You had known Qui-Gon for only a small time, but you had trusted him completely. 

“Don’t be so sure, my young Jedi. He was once my apprentice just as Obi-Wan was once his. He knew all about the corruption in the Senate, but he would never have gone along with it if he had learned the truth as I have.”

“The truth?” Obi-Wan questioned.

“The truth. What if I told you that the Republic was now under the control of the Dark Lord of the Sith?”

“No,” you gasped, shaking your head. But you couldn’t help but feel it to be true. It would explain the darkness you had been feeling as of late.

“That’s not possible,” Obi-Wan argued. “The Jedi would be aware of it.”

“The dark side of the Force has clouded their vision, my friends,” Dooku said. “Hundreds of Senators are now under the influences of a Sith Lord called Darth Sidious.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Dooku smirked as he looked at you. “But the Council’s precious Padawan does.” You couldn’t look at Obi-Wan as his head turned to you. “The Viceroy of the Trade Federation was once in league with this Darth Sidious but he was betrayed ten years ago by the Dark Lord. He came to me for help. He told me everything… You must join me, Obi-Wan, and together we will destroy the Sith!”

“I will never join you, Dooku.”

Dooku nodded, focusing his attention on you. “I’ve heard rumors of you, dear Y/N. So much promise. So much power. If you join me, I can promise not to lock you away like the Jedi Council does. You will be able to show your power like you are destined for.”

“I will never join the dark side, Dooku,” you responded. “I’d rather die.”

“So be it.” Dooku headed for the door. “It may be difficult to secure your release.”

You focused on deep, steady breaths as your eyes stayed trained on the door that Dooku had left from. You were reigning in the unwanted emotions that Dooku had made you feel.

“Little star,” Obi-Wan called. You made no move to show that you had heard him. “Little star, it will be alright. I will get you out of here. I promise.”

“It doesn’t matter…” you breathed out. “What’s happening on Geonosis is going to change the Republic forever, I can sense it in the Force.”

“Your relationship with the Force will never cease to amaze me, Y/N. You truly have a great gift.”

“Yeah, I guess… Dooku was right about something, Obi… the Jedi Council has locked me away. They kept me from Anakin, from you, from other Jedi my own age…. All for what? Because I’m powerful? Because my brother is also a member of the Order?”

“They never told you.”

“Never told me what?”

Obi-Wan sighed. “Do you remember the conversations that Qui-Gon and the Council had about you and your brother?” You nodded. “Do you remember hearing about the Chosen One?”

“Yes. I remember that Qui-Gon believed either Anakin or I was the Chosen One. But after we were all separated, I never heard about it again.”

“Yet they keep reminding Anakin of the burden he may someday bare… I keep reminding him…”

“What are you trying to say, Obi?”

“What I am trying to say is that you have the possibility to be the Chosen One. And I am beginning to believe that the Council thinks you are meant to be the Chosen One instead of Anakin. That is why they wished to train you themselves and kept you separated from a majority of the Order. Again, that is only what I believe. You would need to find the truth for yourself.” You stayed silent, taking it all in. “I can help you gain answers if you would like.”

“Yes, I would really appreciate that.”

“And I,” Dooku suddenly entered the room, “appreciate the information. I now know a possible weakness for the Jedi Council: their precious Padawan, Y/N.” 

Dooku chuckled darkly as a Geonosian guard came in and shot something at your neck. Your eyes quickly grew heavy, dark dots filling your vision. Dooku used the Force to stop the beam you were in, dropping your finally unconscious body on the ground.

“No! Y/N!” Obi-Wan shouted, trying to thrash in his restraints. 

The Geonosian guards came up and roughly grabbed your unconscious body before they began dragging you away. A fear unlike anything Obi-Wan had ever felt before bloomed in his chest.

“Y/N!” He yelled again. He looked down at Dooku with a glare. “What are you going to do with her?”

Dooku responded with a smug look on his face. “That, my old friend, all depends on her.”

next chapter >

TAGLIST IS CLOSED - Taglist Information

[kozumekenza]

on my mind :: three

:: suna rintarou x f!reader :: playlist :: masterlist ::

:: taglist: open :: wc: 2.0k ::

After a drunken one-night stand with your ex, you thought you could get him out of your life for good. Unfortunately, the two of you can’t seem to keep away from each other. Why can’t you leave each other alone? And more importantly, why is he still on your mind?

tw: alcohol, profanity, talk of sex, gets a little bit nsfw at the end (heavy kissing)

author’s note: I officially have an update schedule and final chapter count for this! It will update on tues/thurs at 6pm pdt, with a final chapter count of eight. I’m also planning on writing a few bonus chapters that are nsfw to add a bit to the story, but they won’t be a “necessary” read and will also be able to be read as one-shots. Thank you everyone for reading and for all of the support so far! 

After the disaster that was your phone call with Osamu (the audacity of Miya Atsumu), the rest of your day went smoothly. You met the rest of the players (you were thrilled to see Aran) and went home at the end of the day, feeling pretty good about your new job. If everything between you and Suna stayed a secret, then everything would be fine. 

Unfortunately, you forgot to account for the fact that you were surrounded by a bunch of men (boys, in your opinion) in their twenties, who thought more with a certain appendage on their lower halves than they did with their brains. This convenient fact was made apparent on Wednesday afternoon, during a routine stretching break. 

You were hovering around Atsumu, Aran, and Suna, working on Aran’s shoulder with one earbud in, humming along to some pop song with the other ear not-so-subtly listening in to the boys’ conversation. 

Suna sat his water bottle down and turned towards Aran. “Dude, I had the best and worst fucking night on Saturday. I told ‘Tsumu already, but d’ya wanna hear?”

You kept your head down, focusing on your task while praying that Aran would say no. Apparently, Atsumu had kept his promise and didn’t tell anyone but his twin brother, because Aran nodded his head. You internally cringed, sneaking a glance at Atsumu out of the corner of your eye. The smug bastard had a grin on his face and even had the nerve to look at you and fucking wink. He was lucky that you were already willing to keep this a secret at all costs, or else you would’ve slapped that look off of his face. 

“Alright, so I went out Saturday night to get drunk before practices started, and I met this sexy chick at the bar. I don’t remember much, ‘cause I was fucking wasted, but I took her back to my place.”

Aran held his fist up for a fist bump. “Score, dude!”

Suna rolled his eyes, “Yeah, that’s what I thought at first too. Except I woke up the next morning, and she was gone. Left her bra and skirt at my place, but get this, she stole my fucking National Team jersey!”

Atsumu was uncharacteristically quiet, but Aran filled the silence with a “Damn, bro.” You winced at Suna’s storytelling, yet internally thanked the universe that he didn’t remember that it was you.

“Yeah, the managers are gonna kill me when I ask for a new one. It’s all good though, ‘cause I’m pretty sure the sex was fucking amazing.”

You couldn’t help the choking sound that left your throat and the coughing that followed. Suna handed you his water bottle as you sat down, a concerned look on his face. Meanwhile, Atsumu was fucking laughing. You greedily drank from the bottle, shooting Atsumu a glare. 

After thanking Suna and handing the bottle back, you walked over to the bench to prepare for the second half of afternoon practice. You did not want to stick around them for any longer and listen to any more of Suna’s narrative. 

A large arm slung itself across your shoulders, and you threw an elbow back without looking. Atsumu clutched his ribs and winced as you turned around, seething.

“I can’t fucking believe you, Miya Atsumu. First you wink, then you laugh?”

He stood back up, grinning. “It’s not my fault that it’s so funny.”

“Miya Atsumu! My failure of a love life is not funny.”

“So you admit that he’s a part of your love life?”

“Shut the fuck up, Miya.”

---

Luckily, there was no repeat of the events that occurred Wednesday, at least that you heard. You steadily avoided Suna, not wanting to hear him talk about the “hot chick that stole his jersey” again. Your avoidance plan worked fine, until he began seeking you out. He started stopping by your office when you weren’t there. Iwaizumi always relayed the message to you when you passed him, mentioning the “tall middle blocker that keeps looking for you”. It wasn’t until Friday, when Suna somehow injured his ankle, that you had a moment alone with him. As you worked on wrapping his ankle up, he surveyed your office.

“I’m surprised you still have any photos with me.”

His words made you pause your work, following his eyes to the framed photo on your desk. It was a photo of you, Suna, Aran, and the twins, taken just a week before you left with no warning. “Why?”

“Well I know we didn’t end things on the best of terms. I thought you would’ve destroyed anything to do with me by now.”

You hummed thoughtfully and resumed your work. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

He looked at you quizzically. “What do you mean by that?”

“I’m an athletic trainer for a volleyball team because of you, Suna.” You watched his knitted brows. “When I fell in love with you, I also fell in love with volleyball. It was the only piece of our relationship I allowed myself to keep when I left.”

He looked at you as if he was seeing you for the first time. “I never realized.”

“That was my intention.”

He sat back once again and allowed you to finish the wrap. “All done. You know the treatment plan; be careful, ice it, rest often. Let me know if it keeps bothering you.”

Suna stood up, testing the wrap. “Thank you, y/n. It feels better already.”

You gave him a small smile.  “You’re welcome, Suna.”

He walked towards the door, but stopped before opening it. “You know, I was serious about my offer the other day,” he turned to face you, “If you’re free tonight, we should grab drinks.”

You carefully considered his offer. You did miss having Suna around, and it couldn’t hurt to reconnect. There didn’t have to be anything romantic about it, you could just get a friend back. On the other hand, the last time you drank with Suna, you ended up in his bed. However, if you exercised a little self-control, you were sure it would be fine.

“I’m free tonight.”

He smiled. “Great. Send me your address, I’ll pick you up at eight.”

You watched the door shut behind him as he left. This was either going to be the best or worst decision you ever made. 

---

It was the worst decision. It was 7:30, and you still hadn’t figured out what to wear. What were you supposed to wear when you went to a bar with your ex-boyfriend turned (maybe?) friend, who you accidentally slept with last week? You texted Yachi, but you knew Friday nights were her date nights with her girlfriend, Kiyoko. Still, you prayed that she would answer and prayed even more that Kiyoko was with her. Kiyoko always knew what to wear. 

Your prayers were answered when you received a text approving an outfit you had sent only a few minutes ago. Thank God for Yachi and her friendship. You quickly redressed and finished your makeup before the doorbell rang. You threw on a pair of heels and opened the door to find Suna on the other side, a shy smile on his face. 

“Hey, y/n. You look really nice.”

You grinned at him as you shut your door and locked it. “You do too.” It wasn’t a lie; Suna looked amazing. You had forgotten how well he dressed, as you were always seeing him in practice clothes. He wore slim-fit gray jeans with a loose black button-up. You could see a gold chain peeking out from where the top was unbuttoned, and if you weren’t so dedicated to not sleeping with him again, you would have jumped him right there in the hallway. 

You walked side by side to the same bar you had met in last week (although you didn’t mention this), catching up with each other. He talked about his experience on his pro team and how he felt when he received the letter from the National Team, while you told him about your college experience and moving to Tokyo by yourself. It felt nice, normal even, to be able to simply talk with Suna. It was something neither of you were very good at when you were together, and it was refreshing to know that the two of you could simply chat with one another now. 

The two of you sat at the bar near the dance floor when you arrived. You sipped on a martini and listened to Suna talk about everything that you had missed in the eight years you had been apart. You had expected your conversations to be awkward, but they flowed naturally and never stopped. Before you knew it, you were on your fourth drink and all of your self-control had been thrown out the window.

“C’mon, Suna, I wanna dance.” You grabbed his wrist in an effort to pull him off of his barstool and onto the dance floor with you.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea, y/n? You’ve had quite a bit to drink.”

“Of course I’m sure!”

Suna began to stand. “Okay, I just don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret.”

You turned to look back up at him. “How could I regret any of this?”

He looked shocked at your words, but before he could formulate a response, you were pulling him to the center of the dance floor and reaching for a shot from one of the waitresses. 

“Drink with me, Sunarin!” You didn’t know what switch had flipped in your brain (yes you did, it was the alcohol), but suddenly, all you wanted was for Suna to get drunk and ignore the rest of the world with you. He obliged you and took a shot, not even grimacing at the taste of straight liquor. 

You began to jump around in time to the pulsing beat, Suna watching you, but not dancing. You allowed him to simply watch with dark eyes until you were both on your third shot, and then you had enough.

“Sunarin, I wanna dance with you.” You gave him your best puppy dog eyes, even sticking your bottom lip out for good measure. Drunk you had no shame, whatsoever. He seemed hesitant, but you grabbed his hands and placed them on your hips, pushing your chest flush with his. You wrapped your hands around the back of his neck and played with the ends of his hair. 

“I missed you.” The words fell unbidden from your lips, and although there was some part of your brain that told you that you were making a big mistake, you ignored it and listened to your heart. “I really missed you, Sunarin.”

You looked up at Suna through your eyelashes and felt his breath catch. “You don’t call me Rintarou anymore.” His eyes were filled with longing and sadness, and you looked away so that you wouldn’t drown in them. 

“Formalities, I guess.” The emotion in his eyes disappeared and he hummed, grabbing both of you another shot. After setting the glasses down, his hands found their way back to your hips. You didn’t want his eyes to look blank like this, but you didn’t like the sadness either. You wanted Suna to be happy, you wanted him to want you. So you threw all caution to the wind.

You pulled his head down towards you until your lips were only centimeters apart and whispered to him.

“I want you, Rintarou.”

He pressed his lips to yours in a scorching kiss while pulling your hips closer. You grinded on him to the beat of the song while trying to keep up with his passionate kisses. It was a mix of tongue and teeth, full of enough longing to make up for the eight years you had been separated. 

He began to kiss down your neck, pausing long enough at your ear to whisper a proposition.

“D’ya wanna go back to my place?”

You considered it for a millisecond. You knew, in the back of your mind, that this was exactly what you were scared was going to happen. You also knew that you wanted this more than anything else. 

You nodded your head, and Suna entwined his hand with yours and pulled you out onto the streets of Tokyo.

taglist: @sunasexual @call-me-lulu @ntimacy @circleglasses​ @porcolie​ @keikotaro

[retrievablememories]

afterdeath | lucas

title: afterdeath pairing: vampire!lucas x fairy!reader genre: angst, forbidden romance, fantasy, vampire!au request: May I request a Vampire!Lucas with a fairy!s/o (Forbidden romance perhaps?) word count: 8.6k warnings: descriptions of death and sickness, mentions of a funeral, viewing, and funerary preparations, major character death (but...with a slight twist), mentions of blood and drinking blood, smoking cigarettes, arguments/conflict, mentions of physical violence, some romeo and juliet elements? a/n: hmm this fic probably could’ve been more detailed but i was trying to avoid triggering my own damn self with so much talk of death...ha...not sure why i went this route but i wanted a forbidden romance with an actual decent ending for both characters and this was the first idea i had recommended songs: OLLA - jhené aiko

Year 1508

“We’ve felled the demon!”

“Indeed, we have!”

Cheers ring through the dawn as a large group of fairies dance around an immense bonfire, raising their shouts of celebration to the sky. Within the fire burns the body of the Primitiva Vampire, the One and Only Pureblood, haphazardly thrown over the wood pile and relieved of her head—which sits near the bottom of the burning mass of wood, her face still twisted in a mien of anger.

As the sky begins turning lighter with the onset of sunrise, the fairies continue their celebration, staying close to the fire all the while. They carry large flaming torches to guard against any of the Primitiva Vampire’s followers who might try to sneak upon them and strike in that sliver of space where the sun has yet to rise.

The Primitiva Vampire had a long reign of terrorizing fairies and turning humans and other supernatural creatures into vampires. Each transformed being became a terrible revenant, one which viciously hunted villages and stole into people’s homes for more blood, more death, and more unwilling adherents to the vampiric cult.

Mass numbers of fairies had been decimated once the vampires first tasted their blood and took a unique liking to it. For over 200 years, the carnage continued on at the hand of the Primitiva Vampire, who had one day blinked into existence in a way that could never really be explained by any conceivable means, either human or magic. And without ever giving a hint to her strange conception, she tore across cities and towns, converting others into night creatures like herself and building a loyal following of half-bedeviled beings.

When fairy populations had dwindled to nearly extinction-level quantities, they were left no other choice—fight back or be wiped completely from the universe’s ledger. So they took up arms, honed their magic skills, and did just that.

And now, all their efforts culminate in this blood-stained morning. It marks a much-anticipated moment of revelry before they have to return to their posts to watch for the night creatures inevitably waiting on the other side of the sunset, ready to avenge their slain Goddess.

Present Day

“You probably shouldn’t be here right now.”

“I wanted to come,” Lucas replies, taking your hand is his large one. “I wanted to see you.”

“I can figure that.” You laugh quietly, a little afraid to let your voice rise higher in case it carries too far. “But that doesn’t mean you should’ve come.”

Lucas holds your hand tightly. His skin is cold against yours due to his slow blood, and colder still from the chill permeating the air. It’s only one of many vampiric traits that the other fairies would think of as strange or barbaric, but you don’t see it that way. The chilliness just reminds you solely of him.

“Well, I missed you. And I’m here now, so you’ll just have to deal with me.”

The building you’re standing behind is damp, old, and dilapidated, and it’s not even one of your pre-designated meeting places. In front of you is a rusted chain link fence, which barricades a field of tall and unkempt grass. More aged and crumbling buildings scatter themselves across the distance, taken over by grass and climbing vines.

You don’t know what’s out here. This is one place within your district you haven’t been to before. It was Lucas’s idea to come here, after your last meeting place had nearly been discovered and he found it too risky to keep going there.

The entire city of Beijing is split up into different districts, each belonging to a different faction of supernatural beings. Some nonhuman races have close ties with each other and allow frequent cross-district mingling; others are sworn enemies, forbidden to fraternize with each other under pain of death. In these latter cases, crossing into another’s territory without express permission—or in rare situations, ties to a powerful ally (or allies) on the other side—is asking to get arrested, injured, or worse.

Lucas would be your tie to the vampire side and you his tie to the fairy side if your species weren’t centuries-long enemies. Instead, you’re relegated to having him sneak in and out of your district and hide what he is with blood-scent blockers and eye contacts to make the trickery easier to get away with. There’s only so much you can do to disguise your fae nature; stepping into vampire territory would turn you into a shining beacon.

“Hmm…” you sigh, shaking your head with a small smile on your face. You grasp Lucas’s hand so you’re now holding it with both of yours. “How long do you think we can keep this up? Going from place to place like this. Hiding like criminals.”

Lucas gives a lopsided grin—one that cannot morph into a full smile because of the sadness coloring it. “I don’t know. Forever, if we’re lucky.” He chuckles.

You stare at your intertwined hands, unaware of the sheer intensity of the longing expression on your face, though Lucas sees it clearly. It threatens to burn his heart to ash. “Unfortunately, fae don’t live forever like you do, so maybe not. Besides, your people would probably find out and come after me before we could even settle into a ‘forever.’”

He shakes his head fretfully at your words, squeezing your hand. “Do we have to talk about all that now? You know we don’t have much time together. Let’s just enjoy it for what it is.” Lucas pulls you into him, tucking your head into his shoulder.

“That’s fine by me,” you say, and resist the urge to make some dark joke about how scandalous it is for a fairy to have their neck so close to a vampire’s mouth—or a vampire’s anything.

You both stay together in that dingy and old spot for a while, talking in the dark until he tells you he has to go. He follows you the whole way back home to ensure you’re safe, keeping to the shadows until he sees you disappear past your front door. Then, he slips away again to head back to the familiar manor in his own district.

It’s nearly morning when Lucas gets back to the large house he shares with the other six men. By this time of day, he knows they will either be in bed or getting ready to turn in.

“Still visiting that fairy, I see.”

The unexpected voice doesn’t scare Lucas, but it does make his body tense up a bit in irritation and a slight sense of anticipation. He sighs and stops in his tracks on the way to his room, though he doesn’t face the clan leader just yet.

“Is that a problem? Because you know I’m not going to stop.”

Kun makes a noise of disbelief. “Of course it is. You know what the consequences are if anyone outside of us finds out.” Lucas turns to him slightly, and the look on Kun’s face is more disappointment—maybe even slight fear?—than anger. “I clearly can’t stop you from doing what you want to, but I can’t help you if the Association gets involved.”

Lucas rocks back on his heels and sighs, rolling his eyes at the mention of the vampire organization. “Fuck the Association. They’re nothing but a bunch of old ass hags who have no purpose in their lives other than ruling over every other vampire in the world.”

Kun looks weary at his words. “You really don’t care, do you, Xuxi. They’d have your heart on a stake if they ever heard that.” He pauses and rolls his eyes. “They’re also not that much older than me, so I wonder who you’re calling an ‘old ass hag’...”

“Isn’t it a good thing that they won’t hear it, then?” Lucas laughs, but it’s not an entirely humorous sound, and he gives Kun a searching look as his chuckles die off.

“Don’t look at me like that. I have no interest in telling them anything, mostly because I also have no interest in our whole clan being wiped out.”

Lucas nods, reaffirming his somewhat shaky but still present trust in Kun, needing the regular reassurances for his own calm. He stretches his arms above his head and takes a few steps like he’ll go to his room, though he doesn’t move to leave just yet. “Just don’t see what the big deal about all this is. All this over some ancient bloodsucker who died like 500 years ago...who cares.”

Kun winces again, though he doesn’t bother with reprimanding Lucas this time; he only shakes his head and sighs heavily like it’s already a lost cause. “A vampire and a fairy together is more than blasphemy—it’s ridiculous. It’s illogical. They all think we’re bloodsucking demons hellbent on killing them.”

“To be fair, there’s definitely a sect of vampire zealots or two who are trying to do exactly that despite the laws.”

Kun sighs. Lucas is right; what can he say to argue that? “Xuxi…”

“I’m telling you I’ll be fine, Kun-ge. You don’t need to worry about me and Y/N. Things have been going fine for this long.” Lucas nods, then heads off to his room for real this time. Kun watches him leave, feeling a lot less reassured than the younger man.

Ten takes Xiaojun and Lucas on one of their weekly outings to a blood lounge. Blood lounges are an easy and accessible way for vampires to get blood, though the legalities of this practice are a little muddy. Before getting with you, Lucas didn’t mind drinking straight from the source—going to one of the back rooms and sucking some willing, vulnerable being just to the point of death—but now, it feels like a type of transgression. Drinking someone else’s blood can be an intensely intimate act, on the same level as sex depending on the context, and he doesn’t want to do anything to make you think he’d be unfaithful.

To his fortune, there is no club rule about having to feed off other beings; many vampires take their blood in fancy champagne glasses, just like drinks in a human club. He does that now as the three men sit in a darkly lit booth.

Their conversation is unexciting for a while, with Lucas keeping careful not to mention you or any of his recent visits to your district to avoid any prying ears in the lounge. However, things soon get interesting. “We all know how Renjun got taken off the Association’s Registry a year ago, right?” Ten asks suddenly.

“Yes, of course.” Xiaojun answers like he’s already bored of this turn in the conversation. “That’s what happens whenever a vampire dies.”

Ten nods, but his eyes are wide like he has a secret he’s itching to tell. “But I don’t think he actually died.”

Lucas’s ears perk up at that.

“Why?” Xiaojun asks.

“He was seeing that human before he supposedly died, you know—”

“The one who lost it and drove the stake in his heart? We all know how it happened—”

“Can you let me finish? Anyway, I’ve heard some...suggestions that he faked his death—that maybe he got a magic user to set the whole crime scene up and make it look like it was real. Illusory magic, or something like that.”

Xiaojun sits forward. “A magic user. As in a fairy? Or a witch? Who?”

“I don’t know, just someone who uses magic. People are starting to think he and the human faked it all and ran away to Tianjin. I heard someone even claimed they saw somebody who resembled him when they went to Tianjin recently, though I don’t know how true that is…”

Xiaojun’s interest is thoroughly engaged now. “Think the Association will go looking for him, if it's true?”

“I don’t know if they’d care enough to hunt down an unregistered vampire who’s laying low and not creating chaos with other citizens. We all know Tianjin is way more relaxed about inter-species relationships, too. But the Association doesn’t like looking stupid. And that kind of trick definitely makes them look stupid.”

Lucas sits back, taking all of this information in. He is uncharacteristically quiet, but he doesn’t know what to make of that situation or why Ten is telling them about it. He thinks he can guess why, though, by the way Ten’s gaze lingers on him, and that scares him a little. The way this rumor piques a forbidden interest in him scares him. Lucas lifts the glass of blood to his lips and drinks from it, trying to distract himself from the current conversation.

“All this for a damn human. Only an idiot would try something like that,” Xiaojun says, shaking his head.

“Maybe a smart one. It did get him off the Registry.”

“How can you be a smart idiot?!” Ten and Xiaojun start arguing over the semantics of the term, and Lucas watches them in amusement, though his mind remains in two different places for the rest of their time in the blood lounge.

—

Later that night when they are back at the manor, Lucas pulls Ten aside, just like the older man expected him to.

“What’s wrong?” Ten asks, though his expression shows he already knows exactly what’s the matter.

“You...the stuff you said about Renjun earlier. I…” Lucas doesn’t know how to start or break his idea to him softly, so he decides to just say it. “Is it really possible?”

“I think it’s possible. It wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to get off the Registry…though many other attempts were way less successful.” Then Ten hesitates before saying, “You could try it.”

“Are you serious?”

“I am.” Ten’s expression softens a little. “I know you and Y/N love each other a lot, but there’s no way the Association will ever let you stay together if they find out. Y/N’s life could actually be in danger. Both of you are, every moment you spend together while living in these districts. If you really want to stay with Y/N, then…”

“...But I wouldn’t be able to see any of you again.” You and Lucas have become so entwined with one another that he can hardly imagine a life without you, but he also finds it difficult to picture his existence without his brothers. They’ve become like blood family to him over the last couple centuries.

“Yeah.” Ten sighs deeply, and although his reply is short, Lucas knows that one word is carrying the weight of all of his stress and sorrow about the idea. “Maybe we could find a way to visit you sometimes. Get the fairies or witches to do some of their magicky shit.” Ten laughs quietly. “But...it’s still just an idea. You don’t have to do it.”

Lucas shakes his head slowly. He wants to put the idea to bed and try to continue on with his life, managing his clandestine visits to your district when he can. But now that he knows of an alternative way, no matter how unreasonable or unbelievable it is, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to forget about it. “Kun-ge is going to kill you once he finds out this was your suggestion. You know that, right?”

Ten shrugs, and the sadness lifts momentarily in the curve of his lips. “He can try.”

The next time you and Lucas meet up, it’s in yet another different place under an ancient and mostly abandoned bridge. As a precaution, you stand together underneath the darkness of the bridge and stay out of sight, though there are few chances of anyone being around to see you in the first place.

He has to muster up the courage to tell you of his idea, unsure of how you’ll react or what you’ll think of it. It’s a lot to ask of you. Your kinships and friendships are not as extensive as his, only having a brother and two cousins left in the world, but he doesn’t know if he could ever ask you to leave them behind like this. Or if he could shake off the guilt that would remain from it.

“There might be a way for us to change things…” Lucas starts, skipping the build-up because he knows it would take him forever to think of something appropriate to say. “But I don’t know if you’ll like it.”

“Change things?” You glance at him curiously. You wish you could see the deep red of his irises, but they are hidden behind his brown contacts. “As in, with us?”

“Yes. So that maybe we wouldn’t have to sneak around anymore. Or at least...not sneak around as much as we do now.”

“What is it?” you ask. Despite yourself, your wings flutter against your back as wonder and excitement rise in your chest. You and Lucas have waxed poetic many times before about how you wish things could be different; and neither of you have ever been able to come up with a workable plan. But now, his claim that maybe something is possible has you dangerously curious.

“Taking myself off the Registry. I could basically just...disappear. The Association can’t harm what technically no longer exists.”

You stare at him in confusion. “But you can’t do that, right? Only under special circumstances…”

Lucas sees the question in your eyes and nods. “Right. Like if I die…” You flinch, shaking your head immediately. “...or pretend I’ve died.” This makes you pause, not expecting to hear something like that come from him.

“Pretend...you’ve died. Faking your own death?”

“I know it sounds crazy, but...there’s another vampire who we think has done it before. And...it worked. Supposedly.”

You shake your head again, but you turn the idea over in your mind. “How would you even do that? Someone would have to know you’re not really dead. That can’t be as easy as it sounds...”

Lucas swallows hard. “I know, it doesn’t, but maybe if we plan it right...I think we could pull this off. Some of the others...already know about it.” Only Ten, really, but that’ll inevitably change soon.

Your heart is hammering in your chest just thinking about this plan—the small, undefined plan that it is—and you’re unsure how to approach it. “If we leave under those circumstances, we can’t come back here to Beijing. Which means we won’t see anyone else again, our families and friends...”

“You understand that.” Lucas’s voice comes out strained.

You sigh, wringing your hands. “I do.”

Lucas hangs his head, closing his eyes tightly. “It’s too much to ask of you. We can just forget about this, really. I know sneaking around has been difficult, and I just—”

“I never said I wouldn’t agree to it,” you say softly, interrupting him before he can begin deriding himself about the idea.

Lucas’s head perks up again, and you both look at each other for a long moment. A cold night breeze flows through your clothes and rustles your wings, which remain tucked close against your back.

“Just think of it as leaving the nest, I guess,” you say, though there are tears welling in your eyes. “Growing up and making a life for ourselves. We can do that...right?”

Lucas bites his lip and closes his eyelids to stave off the tears trying to form in his own eyes. “Yeah. We can do that. Even if it’s a bit...unconventional.”

You nod hurriedly, wiping your eyes with the backs of your hands before any more tears can make their way out. “If you really want to do this, then we need to visit my brother.”

—

Your brother is predictably not thrilled about the idea. He likes Lucas well enough, but he’s never been very good at hiding his skepticism about your relationship. Though he would never say this to you directly, he never expected your relationship to make it past a few months; and yet it’s been a year and a half since you and Lucas started seeing each other. Maybe he’d be glad about your relationship’s stability if your partner was anyone other than a vampire. Alas, he instead spends all his time stressing over whether either of you will be found out at any moment’s notice.

“You’re playing with fire,” your brother says as he sits down at his desk within his apothecary office. He shakes his head the entire time, but he rifles through his collection of books on magic anyway. If there is anyone who knows a potion or spell that could work for this scheme and would actually be willing to keep it all secret, it’s your brother.

“I know that, Aldriel.” You cross your arms, sighing impatiently at your brother’s continuous reprimands since you’ve stepped through his door. “That’s why we came to you. You’re one of the best magic wielders and potionists around.”

“Oh, I’m well aware. No need to blow smoke up my ass,” Aldriel replies, never one to let a moment to brag slip away. He continues flipping through his book fast enough to make the words on the pages blur, his brow creased with focus. He is paying attention to the words and pictures on the pages, though you also know him well enough to realize this is him trying to distract himself from the many thoughts that must be crowding his brain.

“Don’t be so worried about it,” you say, trying to speak against the lump that’s suddenly forming in your throat. “You’ve always complained about wanting me out of your hair, anyway.”

Aldriel pauses in flipping through his spell book to look directly at you now, his brows creased even further and his face creating a visage of bitter desperation. “Not like this.”

Sighing, you turn away from him and let him go back to his textbook, knowing you’d probably start to cry if you look at him any longer. And who knows what will happen once that begins.

You go back to Lucas, who is sitting in the other room with his face turned to the window. It is nighttime and the blinds are closed, so you know he’s not looking at anything in particular. His mind must be similarly preoccupied.

“You okay?” you ask, touching his arm.

“Fine,” he answers, though he doesn’t turn to you. He just grasps your hand where it slides down to his own, gripping your fingers tightly. “As fine as I can be in this situation, I guess.”

You sit down in front of Lucas on the floor’s intricately decorated rug, resting your head against his knee. “It’ll be okay.” You aren’t sure of the words when they leave your lips, but you have to believe in them or else all will be lost.

—

You both spend a few hours at Aldriel’s place. At one point, you try to prod Lucas into going back to his clan to avoid raising suspicions for being gone too long—you can just get the potion to him some other day—but he insists it’ll be easier for him to stay and receive the potion now.

Finally, in the hour before dawn, your brother’s door opens and he steps through. “It’s ready.”

Both you and Lucas come alert at that, and you step back into Aldriel’s apothecary to see what he’s developed.

“This is an advanced death glamor potion,” your brother says, holding up a small glass bottle. “It contains a magic incantation that will leave you dead for a week and only a week. Seven days. Your body will remain in perfect stasis, so there’s no risk of the regular side effects that come with death.”

“A week?” you repeat, nervousness coursing through your body. Lucas looks equally apprehensive, and he squeezes your hand tighter.

Aldriel nods, pushing his glasses further up his nose. “That should be enough time to take care of the funeral arrangements and make everyone else think you’ve passed.” He says the last bit while gesturing to Lucas. “I’m not super clear on how vampire funerary customs work, though, so—”

Lucas nods. “No, it’ll work. That’s enough time.”

Your brother’s mouth creases into a thin line. “Good.” He passes the vial to Lucas, makes an expression like he might say something else, and then shakes his head, glancing to you instead. “You plan to go to Tianjin, right?”

“That’s right,” you say quietly.

“You’ll need to find a place to stay, then, until you can get one of your own. And I think we both know exactly where that will be.”

The potion works just as Aldriel said it would. It’s hard to know whether to be dismayed or relieved about this, though the former emotion quickly wins out with everyone.

Lucas takes it a week after meeting with your brother and procuring all the necessary fake documents, claiming it’s best not to wait any longer for it. You feel apprehensive about doing it so soon; or maybe you just want to stall for a little while longer. By now the other five men in his clan all know, each with varying reactions to it but ultimately unable to do anything to change his mind—not even Kun.

On the night Lucas uses the potion, Kun makes one last ditch attempt at reasoning.

“You don’t need to go to this extreme,” the older man insists. Though his voice is cold and sharp and deceptively calm, his entire face is a picture of perfect anger. Everyone had already had their turns talking to Lucas alone and telling him what they needed him to hear—and now it’s just Kun left.

“It’s my decision,” Lucas says, keeping his voice steadier than he feels. “I want to be with Y/N. There is no other way.”

“You’re endangering the entire clan with this. You’d throw us all away for one person?” Kun’s eyes are red-rimmed, but not just from the rage; Lucas knows he’s been crying. Lucas shuts his own eyes, his forehead creasing as he presses the pads of his fingers to his temples.

“Don’t say it like that.”

“That’s exactly what it is.”

“You wouldn’t understand.” Lucas shakes his head, knowing he is treading on very dangerous waters with what he’s about to say. As if the situation weren’t already contentious enough. “You closed yourself off to love a long time ago. After Jingyi died. You just wouldn’t know.”

The vivid red hue of anger bleeds into Kun’s irises at the mention of his late human lover, and he has to make a very concentrated effort not to reach for the younger’s neck. “How dare you speak of her.”

Lucas opens his eyes again and looks directly at his elder now. “You’ve let the Association run your life too much,” he says, though the words come out sounding a bit defeated. He’s not even sure why he invokes Kun’s lover now; maybe he is trying to make the split easier by provoking the other man into hating him. “You’ve let them beat it into you that love is not worth trying for. What did you gain from that, in the end? But more loneliness.”

Lucas gets the breath knocked from him when Kun slams him up against the wall, and the unpleasant sound of wood splintering strikes against his eardrums. A long vertical crack forms in the wood behind Lucas, but not wide enough to make the wall separate completely. Not using his full strength, then, Lucas thinks to himself.

Kun looks for all the world like he might kill Lucas then and there without the younger man ever needing to take a potion—just bite his heart right out. He crumples Lucas’s shirt in his hands, fisting the fabric tightly enough to create small rips in it. His irises are the color of newly spilled arterial blood, and alongside the red rimming of his eyes from his earlier crying, it makes for an agonizing sight—one that sears itself into the back of Lucas’s mind. It’s made even worse by the new tears spilling down the older man’s face.

He chokes out through the tears, “You cannot do this. I raised you. You would have me destroyed twice?”

Lucas wishes he could shut every one of his senses off right now, but he can only manage to shut his eyes, once again, against the pain in the other man’s gaze. “I’m sorry, Kun-ge.”

—

After that, Lucas goes back to his own room and sits on the bed for a long time, replaying the events in his head and growing colder with the realization of what he’s about to do. He stares at the small vial on his dresser until he can’t stare at it anymore, and then he downs it all at once. He looks at the vial with renewed interest as it actually disappears once the fluid is gone, the glass evaporating away in the palm of his hand like water droplets under the sun. No evidence.

Lying on his side, he stares at the wall across from his bed and waits for the spell to begin working. He doesn’t know how much time passes, but eventually his vision begins to blur, almost so imperceptibly that it’s difficult to realize until he notices everything in his field of view is doubled, objects bleeding out of their lines like pictures drawn by a drunken artist—there’s a strange ringing in his ears too, a sound on the edge of his hearing but still present, and he doesn’t know what any of it means, or if this is how other beings feel when they are on the brink of death—it’s frightening, and he feels a momentary pang of sympathy for other nonhumans and humans alike who have no choice but to experience this terrible ordeal at the closing of their lives—

It’s harder to keep his eyes open now, so he closes them and lets all sounds and sensations fade out of his hearing—he only holds one last memory of you in his mind, of the soft and filmy texture of your wings underneath his fingertips, of you laughing whole-heartedly at something silly he’d said, and he joins his hands together in the universal symbol of prayer even as they grow weaker, hoping and praying even to his cursed vampire ancestor that this won’t be the very last memory of you—

—

“Yes, he has...most certainly departed from this world.” 

An Association council member known as Belial announces this to the room of men after doing a thorough check of Lucas’s body. His voice is distant and saddened. The texture of it is almost tangible, dragging everyone down with it like a physical thing—akin to a rock being dropped into a thin sheet. “Such a fledgling, too. Truly tragic and strange circumstances.” Belial stands beside the bed, shaking his head and looking down at the still form of the younger man as if he might discover an answer if he stares for long enough. “Was there no indication…?”

“He was probably exposed to bad blood,” Ten replies, his voice tense and quiet. Though Kun is clan leader, he doesn’t say anything at all, leaving all the dirty work of explaining the lie to Ten.

Belial’s gaze turns to Ten. He shifts his head slightly to turn his ear towards him, as if he didn’t understand what the other man said. “Bad...blood? As in death by blood weakness?”

The room feels like it’s been sucked of air once these words are spoken, and the younger men shift uncomfortably. Sicheng never lifts his gaze to look at Belial, though Yangyang’s eyes keep darting between Belial and Lucas on the bed like he’s waiting for something to happen. Hendery is just as anxious beside Yangyang, both of them passing uneasy energy between each other. Xiaojun’s face is still fixed into the same permanent frown it had been in since Lucas first told them of the plan. His eyes remain downcast and fixed on Lucas, silently asking Why did you have to be the idiot this time?

“Yes, blood weakness. He hadn’t drank as much blood as usual in the last few days...maybe he seemed a little restless...but we didn’t think it was unusual. He...didn’t seem sick.”

“Where would he have gotten bad blood from? We vampires always take such care…” Belial’s tone turns condescending, as if he could expect no better from a young vampire—someone not even wise enough to tell bad blood from uninfected blood. How could one let themselves be taken out of this world by such a fundamental, basic mistake? Kun curls his fingers into a fist at his side, though he quickly remembers himself and tries to let them relax.

“The blood lounge,” Hendery blurts out. Every eye turns to him now, and Ten’s mouth thins into an agitated line. This isn’t what they agreed on. “M-maybe it was spoiled blood from the blood lounge. It had to be. He’s more careful than that…”

Belial’s eyes are whirling with so many emotions that it’s hard to pin any singular one down. “Serving bad blood, with or without knowledge of it, is an incredible offense within any vampire district. In that case, the establishment must be shut down—after an exhaustive investigation, of course.” This statement causes more discomfort among the gathered men, almost too much of it to be properly concealed.

“I think that won’t be necessary,” Kun interjects quietly. Belial looks at him with an expression that reeks of offense, and Kun returns the stare, glaring straight into the elder vampire’s eyes. “He died of blood weakness, most likely from drinking from some disease-ridden human. Even though he used the blood lounge and blood bags, he was in the habit of getting outside blood on occasion. It was a moment of poor judgment that cost him his life...and nothing more than that.”

A tense silence stretches over the room, and Belial’s eyes still don’t leave Kun’s. The other men remain statue-still, waiting to see what will happen—if it will work—until Belial says, “Yes. Of course. I’ll file his passing with the Keepers of the Registry, as protocol states.”

The other men stay quiet and motionless until Belial departs from their house.

“You used your compulsion on a council member,” says Yangyang, and even his voice is trembling when he speaks.

“I didn’t think that was possible,” Xiaojun notes, though his tone is more irritated than awed. “They’re all so much more advanced.”

That action obviously didn’t come for free, though, because Kun is holding his head like it hurts, turning away from the rest of them. “Such recklessness is not my style. Primitiva help us all. We’re all dead if we’re found out.”

“Why did you say that,” Sicheng deadpans, his words directed to Hendery. Even though Sicheng hasn’t said or done anything since stepping into the room, he looks thoroughly exhausted. “You almost gave us away.”

Hendery holds himself up on the bed as if he’ll collapse, his body bent with all the weight of their lies. He makes a motion like he might sit on the bed before remembering it’s where Lucas’s body is resting, and he straightens himself with some effort. “I...but he was thinking badly of Lucas. Like it was his fault.”

“It was,” Kun says faintly.

“You can’t let your emotions get the best of you right now. Just let me handle the talking.” Ten’s expression is stressed, and for a moment he starts to wonder if he should’ve ever said anything to Lucas at all.

Xiaojun shakes his head. “For now, there is a lot more we need to do than just talking.”

Vampire funerary procedures are much different from what many other supernatural races are used to—even blasphemous to some. Everything is handled at the home of the deceased instead of a funeral home or mortuary, in keeping with the tradition of honoring one’s vampire ancestors—and ultimately, the Primitiva Vampire. After the Primitiva’s gruesome death hundreds of years ago, all that had been left was her ashes once the fire burned out, but her followers still gave the remains a proper processing and burial.

The men dress Lucas in one of his nicest suits and perform all the necessary actions that would be involved at a funerary home, including preparing the casket. All of them help throughout this process as tradition dictates, though it is more difficult than any of them expected it to be. (No one even makes a dark joke about you’ll have to do this for me when I’m gone, which speaks to their inner turmoil.)

The viewing is equally challenging to get through, if not more.

Many of their vampire friends and acquaintances attend, including various members of the Association. Everyone seems to buy the blood weakness lie perfectly, which means Kun’s compulsion worked as it should have. That knowledge does very little to relax any of them in the grand scheme of things, though.

Though they know Lucas is not really gone, the sight of him lying there in that dark coffin with other vampires looking sadly down at his still face and dabbing their tears away is deeply frightening.

The night of the viewing goes by at a glacial pace, and every other night after that up until the funeral passes even more slowly, like time itself has dropped its speed to prolong the torment.

When the last few straggling visitors for the viewing are gone, the men go their separate ways to try to deal with the not-so-small trauma of the day’s events. Kun goes up to one of the manor’s several wide balconies, one that they’ve all used as a familiar hangout spot or simply a place to unwind over the years. The sun will not rise for another forty-five minutes or so, giving him enough time to sit and think before it becomes unsafe. He is not very surprised when he finds Ten already there, though he decides not to leave.

“You stopped smoking three decades ago,” Kun comments, waving his hand in a pitiful attempt to clear out the smell of smoke filling the air. There’s no hint of teasing or personality in his voice, only hollowness and exhaustion. He sits beside the other man in one of the chairs sat outside. “Where did you even get cigarettes from?”

“Don’t worry about me. This is just for the nerves.”

“Why would I worry, it’s not like you can—” Kun pauses before saying the word they both know, realizing it hits far too close to home right now. Silence falls between them until Kun asks, “Do you actually believe this will be worth it?”

“It will. We’ve worked too hard for it not to be.” Ten takes a drag from his cigarette. “We’re giving them a second chance. Isn’t that something to feel good about?”

“A second chance. How interesting.”

“Everyone deserves one.” Ten glances at Kun from the corners of his eyes and doesn’t say anything more, but Kun already knows what he’s vaguely implying.

“And yet everyone doesn’t get one.”

“All the more reason to take the opportunity when it becomes possible.”

Kun doesn’t reply to that. Ten places a hand on his shoulder, but the older man meets this with little regard as he rises from his seat and walks away at a sluggish pace.

You stand in the train station ready to buy a ticket, clutching documents falsifying your identity and feeling more terrified than you possibly ever have. Today marks the seventh day, and you don’t even know if Lucas is alive right now. It was too risky to have any of the other clan members contact you—not until you and Lucas meet up in the designated place. You know Aldriel is an excellent potion master, and if he says the spell will work as intended then it will, but there’s always that seed of doubt.

Your parting with Aldriel had been typical of your relationship with him—you crumbling before him and him pretending like he was fine, lending enough strength for the both of you to survive on, though you knew he was also bleeding from the heart.

“You better not forget about me,” you’d told him, smushing your face into the sleeve of his shirt to hide your tears, though there was no stopping the flow. It was staining his shirt sleeve right through.

He’d scoffed at you, though it was a watery sound. “I couldn’t if I wanted to.” He’d held your head closer against his shoulder, the both of you glued together in whichever way seemed fit when you’d walked through his door one last time to say goodbye. “We’ll see each other again. Don’t worry.”

You’d lifted your head from his shoulder then, looking at him with an aggrieved expression. “You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Aldriel put his hand on top of your head, petting you like a small puppy. It was a thing you’d disliked since you were both children, but which only made your heart hurt even more now. “Have more faith in me than that, dear sister. You’ll see.”

When it’s your turn to get a ticket, you step up to the counter and hand over your information, trying to keep the shaking in your hands to a minimum. The teller behind the counter is also a fairy, their wings tucked against the back of their uniform but peeking out at the sides. You childishly try to take some solace in that, hoping there will be some solidarity between you two. Maybe they’ll be less critical of your legitimacy than any other being might be.

The process is scarily easier than you’d thought it would be, though you are sweating the entire time. A fake name and birth date, and no one suspected anything. All of this would have to be your new identity now if you were to live with Lucas in Tianjin without being discovered.

Getting on the train when it comes is only part of the long journey ahead. It doesn’t provide you with much relief, but you are at least thankful to have one segment of that journey complete.

—

It takes another cab to get to your destination once you’re off the train, but you soon arrive at the house of one of Aldriel’s friends and his similar-name twin—Raziel. Raziel was Aldriel’s most trusted and oldest friend, their woven history extending back to childhood. The three of you had grown up together, and you’d even been quite familiar with Raziel until they left for Tianjin some years ago. Now, you’re back in front of each other again under circumstances that you never could’ve guessed.

“You’re here. Good.” Raziel welcomes you into their house with open arms, tugging you into a jittery hug that you anxiously return.

“Have...you heard anything?” you ask, though you know it’s futile. Raziel wouldn’t have gotten any more information than you have, not until Lucas was standing right on their doorstep. They shake their head and give you a sympathetic look, patting your hands.

“He’ll be alright. Everything will go well. I believe it.” Raziel guides you further into their house, presumably towards the room you’ll be staying in while you’re there. “It’s all so romantic, though—even if it doesn’t feel like it right now. I hope you know you’re doing a good thing, in the end.”

You force your facial muscles into a smile, though it is a ghostly and fleeting one. “Thank you.”

Either way, you will have to wait until nighttime to know if Raziel’s words come true or not; the sun is still high in the sky. It’s only midday. You’ve never before hated the sunlight, but right now you curse the sun’s rays that elongate the time between you and your lover.

—

“You all, give him some damn space,” Ten says, trying to pull the younger vampires away so they won’t crowd around the coffin. “He doesn’t need the scare of his life looking at all your faces when he wakes up.” Despite trying his best to be the voice of reason, Ten also has to refuse the urge to station himself beside the coffin and watch for the slightest movement of eyelids, the tiniest twitch of the lips. His hands shake from the frayed nerves of a week of nothing but death and gloom, and even though he doesn’t need to sleep, he thinks he will be out for at least two days after all of this is over.

There is no set time, no designated signal for when—or the dreaded if—Lucas will awaken. The waiting game feels longer than it really is, especially with the hours until the funeral commences steadily counting down. However, it is not very long before there’s a big sucking breath coming from the coffin, the sudden sound of lungs being filled after a week of complete stillness. Everyone rushes back to the bier when this happens, peering wildly inside the coffin.

Lucas’s eyelids flutter for an eternity before shooting open. He immediately seems distressed upon waking, sitting up out of the coffin so quick that it stutters on its stand, and the others have to steady it before it tips over.

“Xuxi...are you okay?” Sicheng asks, voice hushed with nervousness. Despite his unending anger and distress about the situation, Kun has also crowded in to witness Lucas’s awakening, and he visibly sags with relief to see the younger man is at last awake.

The look in Lucas’s eyes is wild. They are momentarily afraid that maybe something has gone wrong with the potion—maybe it has affected his mind somehow and he doesn’t remember any of them— but then he says,

“Y/N. Is Y/N okay?”

“We don’t know,” Sicheng replies. “I mean, hopefully. But it was safer to not have so much cross-communication going on—you’ll have to go to the meeting spot to find out…”

Though the reasons for this make sense, this does not provide consolation. Lucas fumbles his way out of the coffin with the men’s help. It’s clear he’s still disoriented, which makes them even more nervous, if that’s possible at this point.

“You should drink some blood before you leave,” Hendery suggests, and everyone else agrees. Lucas won’t argue that, so he downs one of the blood bags they have stored until he feels a little more like himself.

“You have to go soon, the funeral is set to start in another hour—we’ll have to leave—” Yangyang warns him, though the words fade at the end of his sentence. He doesn’t know how to continue his thought or how to even begin saying goodbye.

Lucas fills that gap by steeling himself and saying his farewells to each of them in turn, though his eyes are troubled and his chin crumples like he might cry at any moment.

“Don’t say I never helped you out with anything,” Ten says, a few tears slipping down his cheeks. Being separated is painful, but it’ll ultimately serve its purpose of giving Lucas a chance at having a love that none of them could. After seeing Kun suffer the way he did after losing Jingyi, Ten wants to spare another one of his mates from dealing with the same fate.

When Lucas gets to Kun, there is a slight awkward silence and a swift exchange of glances—Lucas’s soft gaze butting up against Kun’s more solid one, which is simultaneously pleading to him and rebuking him for his actions. Still, Kun embraces him tightly enough that their bodies could join together.

“Xuxi…” Kun starts, “I don’t…” And then his words break, leaving an unspoken thought between them.

“One day, you’ll forgive me for this,” Lucas whispers to the older man. Kun gives him an endlessly hurt look in return, silently asking him how he could even conceive those words. When they separate from each other, it’s with much reluctance. Lucas looks at them all and nods once, his mouth tight with grief.

“Right. Time to go, then.”

—

You awake in the middle of the night to cool fingers on the side of your face, which startles you completely out of your sleep. Opening your eyes to an unfamiliar room scares you even more, and it takes you a moment to remember why your surroundings have changed. The knowledge comes back to you quickly when a large palm slips against your own, long fingers twining with yours.

“Xuxi,” you whisper quietly, the sound of his name hanging in the air like a prayer. One of the last few times you’ll be able to freely call him that, except in private.

You can’t see his figure well with all the lights turned out, but he had no problem navigating through the dark to reach your bedside. Wanting desperately to see his face, you fumble around for the bedside lamp switch before turning it on.

“Y/N…” Lucas’s face is suddenly illuminated to you in all its golden glory, a myriad of emotions flickering over his features.

“I didn’t even hear you come in,” you say breathlessly. You’re somewhat sad and wish you could’ve met him at the door, embraced him after his long trip, but it doesn’t much matter anymore because he’s here now.

“Poor Y/N. My baby must’ve been so tired.” Lucas bumps his forehead against yours, his whole body drooping with relief as he practically sinks into you, and you giggle a little as you complain about having to hold his weight up. There is a tingle behind your eyes that threatens to turn into a sudden burst of tears, but you try to hold them at bay for a while longer.

“Are we safe?” he whispers, needing your confirmation. “Raziel said so. But...are we really safe?”

“That’s frightening to even think about,” you reply quietly. “We can’t stay here too long, but for now…I think we will be.” Lucas nods without a word, still holding your hand. His blood-scent is completely absent, as it usually is when he’s around you, and you know he’s used the blockers. Soon, with the ability to go out together and not be arrested or threatened for it, that will not be necessary to disguise his vampirism anymore. “It...won’t be easy.”

“No, but the things we want out of life usually aren’t.”

You squeeze his hand. “Raziel will help take care of things for us. It won’t all be trials and tribulations. I hope.” More hesitantly, you ask him, “What was it like? Being dead?” You know that vampires, being once human, still have souls and an afterlife to go to like most other living beings.

The look on his face is worrying. He doesn’t meet your eyes; he only shakes his head and stares at your joined hands. “It was cold without you.” His lips pull into a weak and chapped smile, if only to quiet your worrying, but that doesn’t work as intended. You decide to leave it for now, figuring there will be more time to talk about it when he feels ready.

Turning the light back off, you both press your bodies together as close as they can physically get, Lucas’s head on your chest and his long legs all jumbled together with yours. You fall asleep before he does, lulled away by his comforting and safe presence. He stays awake for a while longer, staring into the dark and the dark staring back into him, before everything else falls away.

[jooniyah]

Poison Apple : The Second

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

AU: Yandere!au, Moneylender!Taehyung

Genre: Angst, Mature, Smut rated R

Warnings: NON CON, Hard Yandere behavior, kidnapping, implied forced pregnancy, emotional abuse, violence, blackmail, character death, voluntary starvation, degradation and physical abuse, slapping, cum play, manipulation, profanity, smut, blood, knives, guns, assassins, and murder.

Word count: 22.91 K

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

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

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

Chapter 1   |    Chapter 2 

The man clad in black adjusted the scope of his M107 rifle, making sure his reticle was in perfect position. As he waited for his target, he did a quick sweep of the terraces of the adjacent buildings. No one was about. A faint slippery sheen of dew covered the cracked floors of the terrace he was positioned on. Any time now. He looked at the neon digits glowing on his watch.

Overhead, his skilled ears could pick out the droning of an approaching airplane. His skin felt clammy, possibly due to the side effect of his beta-blockers. Well, he’d finish the job and go have a well-earned vacation. Cold hands weren’t a big side effect, not when his pills gave him razor-sharp precision at shooting. The gangway of the cruise liner was slowly opened to allow passengers on board. The time had come.

He carefully combed his eyes through the influx of passengers, seeking the one face he was looking for. He didn’t even need to take the photo out of his pocket. He had committed the face to memory. And no disguise could fool him, he was ready for everything the target might try to pull off.

Time ticked on. People were walking on the gangway, boarding the ship, waving to their loved ones. But the target was not to be found anywhere. The described person hadn’t arrived, and the sniper had assumed that he could catch the target on the gangway. But as his professional eyes raked through the humans on board, he knew he was wasting his time. He remained in position, watching on as the ship sounded the final horn before gliding smoothly out onto the sea. He dialed the only number on his burner phone.

“Yes?” The tone sounded shrill and eager.

“A no-show. I repeat, it was a no-show.”

“What? Are you sure you didn’t miss-“?

“I never miss a target.”

There was a deep frustrated sigh.

“Fine. Abort and return.”

The sniper proceeded to pack up his gear and prepared to leave.

On the other end of the line, the figure exhaled sharply, muttering curses and bemoaning the failure. Just then, a dark outline materialized in the doorway, causing the figure to jump up, body numb with defeat.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“I won’t repeat my question again, Mrs.Min.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Then, answer me.”

You remained motionless, staring at the hard-grey table, fingers interweaved.

“Well?” The officer raised his voice, rapping on the table.

“I told you the truth.”

The man scoffed, leaning back in his chair.

“Listen, lady. You know your story sounds shit stupid, right?”

Your voice broke into a whisper.

“But it is true.”

He rolled his eyes. When he spoke again, his voice was dripping with sarcasm.

“Mr. Kim killed your husband? For you? He’s obsessed with you?”

“Yes.”

“You are giving yourself way too much credit, lady.”

You gritted your teeth, refusing to look at him. He clicked his tongue.

“Well, if your absurd story is true, where is your husband’s body?”

“I don’t know.”

He tsked under his breath. “So what proof do you have to tie Mr.Kim to this alleged murder?”

“None.”

He got up abruptly, shaking his head in irritation. He pointed a finger at you.

“You’re wasting my time. And for the record, Mr.Kim has been nothing but helpful in this investigation.”

You slowly raised your head. “What? What did he say?”

“Do you good to hear it and weave another absurd story, wouldn’t it?”

You watched him hesitate at the door, his hand resting on the handle. “If you are so innocent, Mrs. Min, why didn’t you report your husband missing?”

An angry fuse went off in your brain.

“Why would I report him missing, if he was already dead?”

“Can you afford an attorney, Mrs.Min?”

“I-What?”

The officer stared at you, pursed his lips, and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

The court-appointed attorney was a tall, curvy woman in her early thirties. She looked calm and had an air of high maintenance about her. You wondered how she could have accepted to defend you. Maybe the woman did pro-bono work. She probably had rich clients. Rich. You were once rich. When Yoongi was alive. Yoongi. A bitter feeling coursed through your heart.

Another detective accompanied the officer who had previously interrogated you. They settled across you and the attorney, scraping chairs on the floor as they took their seats.

“Well, Mrs. Min,” the officer began, “we understand you have mortgaged all your property.”

“Yes.”

“So, what happened to the money?” The officer flicked through papers on a clipboard. “50 million dollars, wasn’t it?”

The second detective pushed himself forward. “More importantly, where is your husband?”

A dull throb started in your temples and seared across your skull. You could shout yourself hoarse that Yoongi was dead, but none of these people would believe you.

When he received no reply, the detective persisted.

“You got rid of him because you wanted the money to yourself, didn’t you?”

The attorney interjected in a harsh tone.

“My client will not answer that.”

“You hid the money someplace, so you could go and retrieve it later.”

“Officer, you will not harass my client like this.”

“I won’t, if she agrees to speak the truth.”

The woman turned to you; harsh impatience evident on the curl of her lips.

“Not a word, Y/N.”

You nodded weakly. You had told everything to the cops already. No one believed in you, not one soul believed that Kim Taehyung murdered Min Yoongi to obtain you. It was nightmarish to go on a walk, people threw such malicious looks your way. What had you ever done to deserve this?

The officers poked and prodded for some more time, and finally packed their papers and left. While you walked out of the interrogation room, your attorney asked you to join her for lunch. You attempted to decline; you weren’t in the mood for lunch. Or anything for that matter.

But you had nowhere to return to, except straight into Taehyung’s world. It was better to prolong the journey back. Besides, the attorney told you that she wanted to discuss a few case details with you over lunch. Automatically, your feet started following her.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

The minute you sat down to lunch, you understood that it was a ruse. She neither ordered food for herself nor did she suggest you to. As soon as the waiter turned, she dipped her head low and spoke rapidly:

“I hear that they are bringing in a solid witness to testify against you.”

The surprise caught you off-guard.

“But I didn’t do anything. What is the person going to testify about?”

“That you knew Yoongi was mortgaging your property and you jumped on the opportunity to get the money.”

“But that’s insane! I never-“

There was a haughty roll of her eyes that sparked bitter anger in you. She looked at you as if you were kidding.

“Oh, come on, doll. You can tell me the truth. I’m the only person you can trust.”

Her judging gaze made you want to punch her in the face.

“You think I – I am guilty? You don’t trust me?” Your tone grew louder and a few people turned to glance at you. “Why the hell did you agree to defend me then?”

“Pipe down,” she hissed, looking around herself self-consciously. “They have a witness and a story that sounds better than yours.”

“And that means I’m guilty? Because my story sounds ridiculous?”

She shrugged as if she didn’t care. She took her phone out, swiping on it mindlessly. There was nothing except for the clink of glasses and cutlery around you before she spoke again.

“I want you to consider a plea deal.”

“And why would I, when I’m clearly not guilty?” You folded your hands defiantly, surveying her with a hard stare.

“This is not a simple Missing Person search. You are a person of interest in this case as a possible murderer.”

“They haven’t yet found the body.” Your tongue had a metallic taste when you uttered the word.

“Yet.” She let the words sink in. “But they have proof that you stole the money.”

“Stole? That’s my husband’s money! I was taking it to save him.”

“You know what, Y/N? This story is so silly. You are going overboard with the obsession angle.” She leaned back and lit a cigarette. “You know what really happened?”

She paused and exhaled smoke in your direction, tilting her head to look at you more closely.

“You knew your husband owed Kim Taehyung money. You urged him to mortgage your property. He was probably unwilling. So, you pledged all your property and got the money. The money was in your house. It was easy cash. Min Yoongi was anyway going to be penniless after that, so-“

“Stop it!” Your scream turned a lot of heads.

“Allow me to finish.”

“No, stop it! Stop it right now!”

She smirked lazily. “-So why lose the cash and end up with him? It’s easy, you killed him and took off with the money. You stashed the money and never intended to show up again. Not before someone reported Yoongi missing, that is.”

“It wasn’t like that! You are fucking wrong!”

She blew a smoke ring, not minding your distress in the least. “But that is what the prosecution is bringing to court. And they have a witness who saw you lugging all the money and fleeing the house in your nightclothes.” She paused to laugh. “Couldn’t wait to even get properly dressed?”

Her phone chimed, and she looked down. Just as quickly, she grabbed her coat and briefcase, making haste to get out. You stood up to follow, but she laid a hand on your shoulder and sat you down again.

“He’ll be coming now. Remember what I said, the prosecutor’s going to have a field day with your story.”

She was out of earshot even before you could frame the words: “He? Who?”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

You knew who was walking towards you before you even saw his face. Him. The man who had killed your husband. The man who you were trying to prolong going back to. Kim Taehyung.

He weaved his way through the tables at the restaurant, reaching your side like a piece of metal drawn to a magnet. He took his Aviators off, mussing his dark bangs out of his eyes as he sat down opposite you.

You got up to leave, and his hand shot through the air to grip your forearm.

“Sit down, honey.” His face was open and pleasant, but his eyes were unreadable. “You haven’t had lunch yet.”

The grip tightened, and you settled back down, a scowl on your face as you did so. You never dulled your scorching glare while he called the waiter and ordered food. After the waiter left, he turned to you.

“It’s been two weeks since it happened, Y/N. How much longer do you want me to wait?”

Tears pricked your eyes. Two weeks before, you had kissed Yoongi in Taehyung’s basement for what you hadn’t known would be the last time ever. You had been taken to another cottage of Taehyung’s after it happened. You had refused to eat or talk; you had been consumed in grief. Suddenly, a day ago, Wo Bin had tossed you in a car, and he had dropped you off at a hotel room. That same afternoon, the cops had found you and taken you in for questioning.

“Y/N?” Taehyung’s deep voice broke into your thoughts. “I’m talking to you.”

“What do you want from me?”

“I want you.”

“I’d rather go to prison; I’ll at least be free from your clutches.”

He snickered, flashing a boxy smile at you. If you didn’t know better, you’d call that an innocent grin. He leaned towards you, the smile still turning up the corners of his mouth.

“You? In prison? Oh , baby, that’s not a place for a princess like you.” His gaze dropped down before he looked into your eyes again. “Especially a pregnant princess.”

He watched the way your face twisted. The waiter brought the food, laying down the plates swiftly before you. Taehyung smiled at him in amiable politeness, waited for him to leave and resumed without missing a beat:

“You will have to give birth in prison, you’ll lose your baby after 18 months anyway. You don’t have relatives, so your baby will most definitely go into the system for foster care. Do you want that?”

You had no answer. You hadn’t thought of it ever happening, to be honest.

“It’s also possible you’ll be sentenced to many long years in prison. By the time you get out, your baby would be an adult.”

He saw the way your lips trembled as you digested the facts he was presenting. He bent down and sipped a spoonful of his soup. You looked at his bent head, weighing your options.

“It’s better than-“

Before you could say any further, he cut you short, raising his hand.

“I must say I look forward to adopting your baby.”

He grinned smoothly as he saw you sputter in dismay. God, you were so cute.

“What? Why would you? You don’t care about Yoongi’s baby.”

“Well, true, but the baby is part bastard and part angel. I like to focus on the fact that half of you will be with me as I await your return.”

He slurped the noodles in his soup with a flourish. “I can pull some strings to get the baby assigned to me.” He wiped his mouth with a tissue delicately, watching you the entire time.

“Don’t make me hate you even more, Kim Taehyung.”

He reached over the table, trying to take your hand, but you flicked it away. He sighed and shook his head.

“Eat up, Y/N. That attorney of yours kept you waiting without even offering food.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. She was probably working for him. He seemed to have a lot of people wound around his little finger. Except you. You fell silent, eating without looking up once.

The table was silent until he cleared his throat.

“I want you to think all this through and decide if you want me to help you.”

You scoffed at him. “Help me? How? Do you own the Justice Department too?”

He looked unfazed. A tiny smile played on his lips. “Eat and we’ll talk at the hotel.”

You fell silent again, but the question wormed its way out of your mouth despite your control.

“Why am I staying in that hotel? You didn’t take me to your house.”

“Because you mortgaged your house, you ran away with the money, and I don’t know you apart from the occasional meetings in the elite parties. In the past, when poor Mr. Min was alive, of course.”

“You don’t know me? Are you fucking kidding me, Taehyung?”

His boxy smile returned. Though these were not exactly favorable circumstances, the fact that you were so prettily angry made his heart warm. You were mad at him because he said he didn’t know you? A small jealous part of his heart sang in joy. Even if those words were uttered with hate, he was certain you would love him if you got to know him better. Until then, the subtle undercurrent would have to suffice.

“Like I said, we’ll talk about this at the hotel, Y/N.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

When you reached the hotel room, Taehyung opened the door, motioning for you to go in.

“After you, my darling.”

Once you were inside, he took off your coat, brushing his fingers against your bare arms, his fingertips leaving goosebumps in their wake. You could hear him sigh heavily behind you, and you spun around to face him.

“Get on with it.”

He raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “You mean, get on with making love to you?”

You swatted the hand that was ghosting your shoulder, your tone drenched in spite.

“You know what I meant, Taehyung. What the hell were you talking about at the restaurant?”

He pouted his lips and his face fell. “Oh. That.” He sighed again, walking over to the bed.

He sat down, patting the bed to indicate that you were supposed to sit down too. When you didn’t comply, he yanked you by the arm, making you sit in his lap. A hand reached to your side to pinch you in case you squirmed. By then, you knew better than to resist. He rested the side of his head on your shoulder, whistling softly.

“Baby, you’re going to be sent away for a long time.”

“For what? Don’t play your games with me, Kim Taehyung.”

He turned you so you were facing him. There was animation in his eyes, so unlike the usual blank stare. It looked almost as if he were sad.

“You’re going to be tried for the murder of your husband.”

You tried to jump up, and a sharp pinch stilled you into position. “But I didn’t kill him.”

He used his free hand to brush away the tears, his touch feathery light and exceptionally gentle.

“Even if they don’t find the body, there’s a lot of evidence for reasonable doubt, and that’s enough for the jury.”

A sudden tic made your lips tremble. He held you patiently, waiting for it to subside.

“What evidence?”

His eyes softened.

“Some blood. DNA.” He watched your expression as he added: “The fact that you mortgaged the property, got the money, and fled.”

“But I didn’t-” Your brows furrowed for a second before it struck you. “Bong Ju.”

He nodded without answering. He watched you work things out in your mind. He always admired your smartness. But after Yoongi died, you had become kind of slow at thinking through stuff. He wished you would get better quickly so he could pounce on you.

“So, what happens next? You kill my husband, put me in prison, and then take my child?”

He didn’t say anything, quietly looking at the beaded tears on the corners of your eyes.

“I can help you. I can make it all go away.”

Something made you squirm on his lap. To your utter horror, you discovered what it was. You hit his jaw, making him gasp. Pushing yourself off of his lap, you screamed, boiling with rage.

“You’re hard? This is making you hard? What kind of sick bastard are you?”

The scream didn’t have any effect on him. He kept staring at you, eyes burning with primal hunger. Watching you stand before him, face red in anger and nose flaring, made him feel things.

His voice was soft, almost inaudible. “You do that to me.” He reached out to grasp your hand again, and pulled you down so you were almost straddling him.

“Listen Y/N. You have made me wait long enough. I will say this only once, so you better pay attention.”

You struggled in his arms, trying to get away from him. But a hand firmly cupped your jaw and pulled you close to his face.

“Fucking. Listen.”

You nodded wordlessly, and he relaxed his hold on your jaw.

“Two scenarios. One, plead guilty and go to prison. They’ll try you for the murder too. Two, plead innocent and still go to prison. I’ve planted enough evidence to support both scenarios. And you’ll lose the baby in both cases.”

He looked at you chastely, eyes wide and sincere.

“I have both the prosecutor and the defense attorney ready to handle it either way. Any proof of your innocence turns up, your attorney will quash it down. She is very thorough. Your friend Jung Hoseok is already being watched.”

“You bought both the prosecutor and the attorney?”

“Money, baby. It’s what drives them all.”

“And? You want me to dance to your tune, don’t you? What is it?”

He smiled again, and the smile reached his eyes.

“Three, you walk away from all this. Innocent. Your baby lives.”

“In exchange for what?”

His eyes sparkled, and his hands softly squeezed the side of your hips.

“Marry me.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“What do you want, Se Jong?”

The man perched on the hood of the car didn’t flinch.

Wo Bin exhaled in irritation. He had other pressing matters to deal with. He had errands to run for his boss. The white folded paper was still in his pocket, making his mind itch to get on with it. The boss had given him the paper and asked him to find the man matching what was written on it. Strange order, but his boss probably had his reasons. He shook the thoughts away and focused on the man who was eating his time.

“Unlike you, I have work to do, Se Jong. Spit it out.”

The man addressed as Se Jong shrugged his shoulders, leaning back lazily on the car’s windshield.

“I don’t know man.”

Wo Bin ground his teeth.

“Why did you ask to meet me then?”

“I want more.”

“You already get more than enough.”

“Not as much as you do.”

Wo Bin’s nose flared. Having served in the military, it always hurt his pride to be compared to a civilian goon.

“I am not a bank robber like you, Se Jong. You’re not even a good shot. It’s a mystery why the boss still has you around.”

It was already a known fact that Kim Taehyung only employed the best of the best.  Wo Bin often wondered what a dimwit like Se Jong was doing in his Taehyung’s fleet.

“Banker. How do you think the boss stashes his money if he doesn’t have people in the bank pulling strings for him?”

“Get to the point, Jong.”

“I said it already I want more. I want you to talk to the boss for me.”

“Consider it never done.”

Wo Bin turned his back and stormed away, leaving the man on the car seething in anger. Little did he know that Se Jong wasn’t as harmless as he seemed.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

The courtroom was jam-packed. Your attorney had told you that the first sitting was just to warm the jury up to the facts of the case. But the sheer number of people in the gallery made you feel intimidated. Well, it was a case concerning the Min family. More importantly, Min Yoongi’s wife was on trial.

The prosecutor, Kang Minsook, made his opening statements, addressing the jury and accusing you of grand larceny. You watched on, neurons firing in your brain, as the prosecutor spun a splendidly woven tale of how you married Yoongi for money, felt cheated when he fell into debt, decided it was time to take the money for yourself, and fled.

Kim Taehyung was seated in the spectator area, dressed in his best of blacks, watching on as the prosecutor piled wrong information, wrapping up the lies smoothly with a few bits of truth so that it looked dirty, but believably so.

Your attorney made her opening statements, but they fell flat in front of the prosecutor’s powerful story of lies. One glance at the jury told you that none of them were buying the version of the case that the defense was presenting.

The judge turned to you.

“Mrs. Min, in this accusation of grand larceny, how do you plead?”

Your eyes swept over the jury. No soft glances were aimed towards you. You then looked at Taehyung, sitting with an air of regality as if he were presiding over the courtroom. Stretching yourself to your full height, you replied quietly:

“Not guilty, your Honor.”

A smile slowly spread across Taehyung’s lips.

The prosecutor was on his feet as soon as he got permission to start.

“I’d like to call the prosecution’s first witness, your Honor.”

You strained to see who was the witness. A tall man you knew only too well rose from the bench and took the witness stand. It was surely not the bald man you were expecting to see.

“Mr. Kim, please state your name and occupation for the sake of the court.”

The man looked straight ahead, flexing the muscles in his jaw. It made him look arrogant, giving off vibes of a man not to be messed with.

“I am Kim Namjoon. I’m the Executive Director of Park and Kim Motors Inc.”

“And how were you related to Mr. Min?”

“We were family friends.”

“Please elaborate on the nature of your relationship, Mr. Kim.”

The witness gazed at Minsook, and suddenly his eyes wore a brooding look.

“Min Yoongi and I were friends through our parents’ societal ties. I used to play Chess every evening with Yoongi before he got engaged.”

“So, your friendship with Mr. Min goes long back.” The prosecutor stopped to wipe his spectacles, leaving you wondering what he was up to.

“May I ask, Mr. Kim, as to why you stopped playing Chess with Mr. Min after his engagement?”

Your counsel shot to her feet.

“Objection, your Honor. The prosecutor is wasting the court’s time with irrelevant questions.”

Minsook looked at the judge with surprised eyes.

“But it is a relevant question, your Honor.”

“Overruled.”

Smiling broadly in a way that made your insides turn, the man turned again to his witness.

“Well, Mr. Kim?”

Kim Namjoon stared at you, so much malice concentrated in his eyes.

“His fiancée didn’t want me spending too much time with Yoongi.”

There was a pause. And then with a condescending tone, the next question was thrown:

“Maybe there was an innocent reason, Mr. Kim? Maybe the defendant wanted all the attention to herself?”

Once again, your counsel stood up with a loud “Objection, speculation, your Honor.”

“Sustained.”

With a wicked grin, the prosecutor threw a careless apology to the judge, looking at the witness expectantly.

“I don’t know. But now I know she wasn’t as innocent as she seemed.”

“Why exactly do you say that, Mr. Kim?”

Namjoon glared at you again.

“She didn’t even bother to search for Yoongi. She ran away.”

The prosecutor took a sealed evidence bag in his hand, turning so he was facing both the witness and the jury.

“And who filed the Missing Person report about Mr. Min?”

“I did. She didn’t. Because she was too busy counting the money.”

“Objection!”

“The prosecution will advise their witness not to make assumptive statements.”

But the damage had already been done.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

You sat and listened as your husband’s best friend told the court how Yoongi had been increasingly agitated in the months prior to his disappearance.

“He was in so much trouble, it was clear as day,” he said.

“And did he tell you what was bothering him, Mr. Kim?”

Namjoon clenched his jaw again. “He was missing his mother very badly.”

The wicked gleam in Minsook’s eyes returned.

“What happened to his mother, Mr. Kim?”

“His mother had been institutionalized. His wife and mother were not on good terms. It broke Yoongi’s heart to part with his mother like that.”

“So, Mr. Min’s wife sent her mother-in-law away?”

The jury watched Namjoon affirm that with a curt “Yes.” Your attorney made no attempt to object. Things were beginning to look dark for you.

“Why do you think the elder Mrs. Min was sent away, Mr. Kim?”

The judge waited for your counsel to object citing speculation. But she made no move. With a withering glance, the judge advised the defense to not indulge in speculation.

The question was rephrased with a sly grin.

“What did Mr. Min tell you about his mother being sent away?”

Namjoon looked at the jury with sincere eyes.

“He said that his wife was in danger because of his mother. Mrs. Min accused her mother-in-law of trying to stab her with a knife.”

“Did Mr. Min say that the accusation was correct?”

“He only arrived in time to separate them. So, there’s no proof of who instigated the fight.”

Your palms started sweating. A delicate web of lies was being spun around you, and the spider at the center of it all sat watching with quiet enthusiasm.

“Did you know that Mr. Min was in huge financial debt?”

Taehyung watched the witness shake his head, followed by a curt “No.” He slid his hand to his pocket where his phone buzzed. There was a single message on the notification shade.

“Done.”

He looked back at the man who was talking, turning his phone’s display off and allowing himself a smile.

The prosecutor was going on.

“Why didn’t Mr. Min confide in you, if you were such close friends? He could have even borrowed from you.”

Namjoon shifted in his seat, his thick brows crumpling slightly as he processed the question.

“I don’t remember exactly, but I heard in passing that his wife shopped extravagantly. I assume it was his wife who wrung him dry. So, he was probably unable to confide in me about his wife.”

The prosecutor beamed.

“Naturally.”

Your attorney interrupted with an objection citing speculation, which was sustained.

At that, the prosecutor produced another plastic bag of evidence.

“These are the receipts that prove Mrs. Min purchased exquisite jewels, your Honor.” He flourished the bag at the jury, eyes bright with emotion. “Each purchase cost more than the previous one, amounting to millions of dollars.”

Wearing a proud smile, the prosecutor thanked the witness and gave your attorney the nod to cross-examine the witness. The woman slowly got up, adjusting her robes as she approached the witness box.

“Let me start with the easiest question, Mr. Kim.” Her face took on an innocent expression. “Wasn’t Mr. Min already very rich? Why would he ever get into debt? He already owned the Min Group.”

Namjoon looked at her in confusion. “He didn’t own the Min Group. His father did.”

“The late Mr. Min?”

“Yes. Yoongi was only the executive director of the Min Group until his father died.”

You watched your attorney look suddenly uncomfortable. You didn’t understand the need for this line of questioning. The jury looked confused too. Until the next question tore through the silence.

“How did the late Mr. Min die, Mr. Kim?”

“He was involved in a car accident. He died of multiple organ failure.”

“So, both of Mr. Min’s parents were out of the picture shortly after he married the defendant?”

You couldn’t believe your ears. Was your own attorney suggesting that-?

“Yes.” Namjoon’s voice interrupted the thoughts racing through your mind.

The judge looked sharply at your counsel. Was she out of her mind, to hand such an insinuating lead to the prosecution?

“Are you going anywhere with this, counsel?”

Your attorney nervously bit her lip.

“No, your honor.”

She turned to Namjoon.

“Couldn’t the defendant have purchased the jewels even when the elder Mr. Min was alive?”

Namjoon wondered if this woman had even researched her case properly. What kind of attorney gave away their client like this in court? He looked at you, weighing his words.

“Mr. Min handled all the finance of the Min family. Yoongi could have bought her the jewels, yes, but his father had to okay any big expenses he made.”

“I see. Thank you, Mr. Kim.”

Namjoon was excused from the witness stand. You were in utter disbelief. You were being framed. By your own attorney. Taehyung was right. You were going to prison.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

 You couldn’t bring yourself to munch the sandwich that was before you. It was court recess, and your attorney was by your side, eating busily. She was completely oblivious of your apparent resentment towards her.

“How could you give me away like that?”

She looked up; eyebrows raised.

“Like what?”

You had to control yourself from shouting at the top of your lungs. Clutching the table hard, you rocked yourself, trying to be calm.

“You almost accused me of killing my father-in-law.”

She rolled her eyes with a blank “Eh.” On seeing you intensify the burning stare; she grumblingly munched the last bit of her steak.

“You’re already on your way to prison, dearie. Nothing I say or don’t is gonna help you.”

“You are my fucking lawyer!”

A few lawyers seated on the adjacent table murmured in disapproval in your general direction.

“Mind your fucking business!” You shouted at them, eyes blazing in anger. The woman clucked her tongue in disapproval.

“That temper won’t help. Don’t incriminate yourself even more. I did tell you to accept a plea deal, Y/N.”

Three tables away from yours, Kang Minsook was seated with his associates, deep in discussion.

“Something about this case makes me feel weird,” an associate was saying. “Why would the defense point out the senior Mr. Min’s accident? It only makes sense if we do. What is that attorney up to?”

Far back in the cafeteria, Taehyung sipped a cold strawberry milkshake as he watched you. Ugh. He had to endure the disgusting milkshake just for you. For you. Yes, he would do anything for you. But the obvious artificial strawberry flavoring was almost too much. You would pay later for making him drink such cheap stuff.

As his juniors droned on about the case, Minsook glanced over at your gloomy figure staring down at the table. It made him wonder how you were going to handle what was coming next.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

You were sure you were going to be called up for cross-examination as soon as the court was in session. Bunching the hem of your skirt tight, you bent your head in apprehension. They were going to call out your name. They were going to prove that you killed Yoongi. They were going to send you to prison. Your knuckles tightened around the fabric, the dampness of your palm transferring onto it.

“The prosecution summons Mr. Kim Taehyung, your Honor.”

All the fear in the world rolled into one tight ball that got caught in your throat. Taehyung was going to testify?

The black-haired man took confident strides as he made his way to the witness stand. Everything about him suggested a successful, genuine, and well-respected man. The ladies in the gallery murmured about how rare it was to see not one but two families in the elite circle pitted against each other. The thumping of your heart was so loud and deafening. Taehyung composed himself with a sincere look in his dark eyes.

“Please state your name and occupation for the sake of the court.”

He raked his eyes through the jury. “I am Kim Taehyung. I am the CEO of Kim Automotive LLC.”

Minsook considered the witness carefully.

“What kind of relationship do you have with the Min family?”

“We were both rich families.” Taehyung masked the bitterness in his voice. “We met at social gatherings.”

“Do you know the defendant?”

“Yes.” The answer was abrupt, leaving unsaid words hanging in the air. The prosecutor pressed on.

“How do you know her?”

Taehyung batted his thick eyelashes innocently, looking square into the eyes of Minsook.

“She came to me trying to pledge the Min estate.”

There was a sharp gasp from the spectators and the low murmuring started to grow louder before the judge pounded his gavel.

The prosecutor waited for all the hushed voices to completely dribble down into sharp silence before asking the burning question:

“The defendant sought you out by herself?”

You closed your eyes lest someone see the beaded drops that were threatening to fall. All the memories of what happened half an hour ago flashed in your mind in full throttle.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

You had been walking back to the benches outside the courtroom, when a man bumped into you, causing you to gasp out loud. As you clutched your shoulder and glared crossly at the retreating figure, you noticed chewing gum on your suit. Wincing in disgust, you tried to peel it off when you noticed a small neatly folded bit of paper sticking to it. You opened it, only to find four words written on the slip.

‘Barristers’ chambers No. 3. -KTH’

Turning just in time, your eyes caught Taehyung as he slowly watched you and walked ahead, leading the way.

── ⋆✩⋆ ──

“Well, sugar? Ready to change your mind yet?” were the words that greeted you upon entering the chambers.

The blinds were drawn, lending a dark ambiance to the room. Taehyung was half-leaning on the table, supporting the weight of his body on both his arms. He watched you, fascinated by the pencil skirt and the tailored suit jacket that fit you so well. It was a shame that you had to go through all the court drama. The worry on your forehead made him want to reach over and kiss all the tension away. Only if you let him. He sighed.

He pushed himself off the table, reaching you in determined strides, his face alight with emotion. With an arrogant flick of his wrist, he crooned in his deep voice:

“20 more minutes before the court is in session, darling.”

His long fingers gripped your jacket, pulling you into his chest. The fingers roamed on your person, finding purchase at the nape of your neck. The heat of his body accompanied by the firm grip of his fingers left you frozen in place.

Taehyung rang his tongue over his upper lip, curling his mouth in a suggestive smirk.

“So, yes or no?”

“I- How can you make it all go away?” your voice came in a bare whisper.

“Baby, I always get my way. Do you still doubt what I’m capable of?”

He nuzzled his forehead against yours, sighing deeply in content. His eyes fluttered closed, the steady rise and fall of his chest falling in rhythm with yours.

“So? What is it? Endure me, or spend a lifetime in prison wondering what I did with your child?”

“Plea-“

His finger shushed your lips, stopping you from saying anything he didn’t want to hear. His eyes were still closed, but there was a soft smile kindling in the corners of his lips.

“18 minutes left, Y/N. Say it. Yes or No?”

Your mind was a maze of emotions. Say yes and live with Taehyung? The man who killed your husband? You’d have to be insane to do that. Say no and go to prison? What would you do without your baby? Why did all of this happen? Where exactly did you go wrong? Why were you trapped in a room with your husband’s killer draped all over your bosom?

“15 minutes.”

A giant sob rocked your body, tears streaming down your face as you spat it out:

“Yes.”

His eyes opened slowly, a euphoric smile making his face glow in radiance. You could have sworn there was a glossy film on his eyes that suspiciously resembled tears.

“Oh Y/N. I love you.”

He peppered soft kisses on your cheeks and nose, leaning back reflexively at the wetness of your cheeks.

“Why the tears, my sweet?” He brushed the trickling tears with the tip of his thumb. “Anyone would think you hate the idea of marrying me.”

When he didn’t get a reply, his eyes went from soft to dangerous in one quick flash. He leaned over you so that you were arching yourself backward, his hand supporting the small of your back securely. He made as if to kiss your jaw, but flicked his tongue out instead. His hot tongue swept over the trail left by the tears, licking your face from jaw to cheekbone in one long stroke.

His other hand gripped your squirming hips hard, the dangerous glint was fixated on your pupils as he continued his stroke above your eyes, stopping only momentarily when your eyes fluttered at the wet feeling of your lashes. He finished the trail at your eyebrow, landing a soft kiss on the arch of your eyebrow.

“No makeup,” he observed, looking deep into your eyes. “And just as beautiful as always. Delicious too. Pity you didn’t wear lipstick; I’d have loved to have your lip prints on my cock.”

His grip of your waist loosened, and you pushed yourself upright, shuddering all over. You tried to wipe off his saliva with the sleeve of your jacket, but his hand stopped you with a harsh jolt.

“Never, remember, never wipe off anything I give you.”

You glared at him, the sticky wetness still bothering you.

“You disgust me, Kim Taehyung.”

His eyes crinkled in delight. “Aw, I love you too, darling.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Taehyung considered the question, ruminating on his thoughts.

“Yes.”

Minsook chose his words carefully.

“Can you tell the court what Mrs. Min said, Mr. Kim?”

“She said ‘My husband is in debt and I want to mortgage our property. He doesn’t want anyone to know, so I came to you instead of going to his friends.’ She looked very upset. “

“And you didn’t talk to Mr. Min about this before agreeing to the request?”

Taehyung looked annoyed.

“I trusted Mrs. Min’s words.” It looked like referring to you by that title made him sick. “I didn’t want her husband to feel uncomfortable, especially because she said that he wanted it to be discreet.”

You felt bile rising to your chest as you watched the bastard stack lie upon lie as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

Minsook considered the witness closely before asking his next question.

“Do you have witnesses to corroborate your story, Mr. Kim?”

Taehyung simply smiled, his eyes briefly flitting over to you. He ran his tongue over his lips as if your taste was still on them.

“At least twenty of my staff were present when she arrived at my mansion.”

Wrong. There were more than 50 guys that day when you went to him, dragging a suitcase in your pajamas. Of course, they would testify against you. The case was going to be a nightmare to get out of.

Taehyung was excused in haste. Turning to the judge, Minsook spoke so fast that you almost couldn’t keep up with his flow.

“Your Honor, the state pleads more time to prove that the accused mortgaged the Min property, took the money- “he glanced at the jury with emotion “-and killed her husband to get rid of liabilities. We have enough evidence for reasonable doubt.”

He appealed to the jury with strong words, trying to rock them in his favor.

“An innocent man loses all his money, his wife flees, she never reports him missing, his house is a bloody mess, with blood matching his DNA all over the place. The police found one airplane ticket in the defendant’s personal effects. Just one. Not two, if she is to be believed.”

He let the magnitude of his allusion sink in before throwing the next bombshell.

“As the defense uncovered, the elder Mr. and Mrs. Min were conveniently removed from the defendant’s life. The defense also confirmed that the defendant alleged that her mother-in-law was a threat to her life and sent her away. This raises doubt into the elder Mr. Min’s tragic accident.”

You were shocked into silence; the pain was overwhelming. You felt like you were floating above your body, detached and dead from all the pain and hurt.

Minsook was going on.

“While we can’t definitively prove that the defendant was involved in it, we do have the responsibility of looking keenly into the case at hand to make sure that justice is served.”

There was a brief interruption as the side doors opened, and a man walked in, making straight to your attorney. He handed her a package, whispering into her ear. She immediately stood up and asked for permission to speak. All eyes were on her, and no one noticed the brief looks exchanged between Taehyung and the mysterious messenger. Except you, of course.

“Your Honor, the defense wishes to continue this hearing in camera.”

The judge peered over his glasses at the counsel.

“What is the necessity for it, please?”

You saw the defense attorney wave the package at the jury, addressing the judge and jury at the same time.

“We have proof that Min Yoongi is alive.”

What? You gasped in shock, the news bringing you back to reality and grounding you. The brief respite was replaced with deep hurt when you looked at Taehyung. His single raised eyebrow uttered the unsaid. He had gotten his way. Just like he had said he would.

A loud babble of voices broke out in the spectators’ area, the droning of voices so loud that the judge pounded the gavel furiously.

“And what proof is there to confirm this news?”

Your attorney passed a few pieces of paper over to the clerk.

“These are Min Yoongi’s shell company records that prove that he is in possession of the 50 million dollars, your Honor.” She passed on more papers. “This flight manifest shows that a passenger named Soo Yeongguk was on board, carrying a passport with the same name.”

“And?”

“These surveillance camera pictures show that it was Mr. Min who used a fake passport in the name of Soo Yeongguk to flee the country.”

Minsook sputtered, “But Your Honor, the blood and DNA,” he was wringing his hands, “He couldn’t have flown with those injuries.”

It was explained away by the defense as non-conclusive.

“Mr. Min could have easily planted his blood just like he did everything else to frame his wife, your Honor. There is no hard evidence that he bled to death. Or even died, for that matter.”

“Why has the defense wasted the court’s valuable time when all these facts were already known?”

“We only got confirmation of the false identity a few minutes ago, your Honor.”

The judge rose up to stand, and immediately the whole courtroom followed suit.

“This will be further discussed in camera.”

The judge turned and left, and both the prosecution and defense scurried to fetch their documents and hastened to the judge’s chambers. The bailiff escorted the jury and left.

There was pandemonium and confusion after they left. People were restless, talking in hushed tones about all the drama that had just happened. As for you, it was pure shock that kept you standing on your feet. Shock at how easily justice has been swayed.

It felt like you were treading clouds when you were taken into the judge’s chambers. How could they have cooked up all the proof? You saw your husband’s death with your own eyes. Was there not an inkling of sunshine at the end of the tunnel? Not a drop of justice in the universe?

You felt numb and empty as you stood watching the judge reprimand your counsel for wasting the court’s time and resources. He also fined the defense. You weren’t listening. You didn’t care. Because you were declared innocent. And condemned to marry Taehyung.

You didn’t stay back to see Taehyung and the judge shake hands in solidarity. Nor did you hear Taehyung whisper:

“Good show. Expect the money in one hour.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

The cold water pricking your skin did nothing to assuage the hurt eating away at your heart. The incessant flashes of the cameras as you exited the courtrooms, the reporters calling your name out, the overpowering smell of sweat and stale coffee, everything came back with such force that you squatted in the shower, hugging yourself.

You had come back to the hotel alone. No Taehyung. Because he apparently ‘didn’t know you that much.’ Snake. And you couldn’t find a way to escape him. He had kept his side of the bargain. You had to keep yours. The cold water was a far better company than the man outside your door.

“Y/N!” The knocks on the bathroom door were growing impatient. “Come on out already.”

You looked at the flimsy contraption that was dividing you and him. You had to go out. He couldn’t be avoided forever.

“Want me to break the damn door?” The deep voice hollered in irritation.

Taehyung couldn’t wait to see you. You were now his. No force on Earth could take you away from him. Not on his watch. He had already received a text from Wo Bin. So that matter had been taken care of. He was in a jubilant mood.

The lock clicked, and you emerged, wrapped in the hotel’s complimentary white bathrobe. Taehyung thought that he had never seen anything so beautiful in his life. Wet hair clumped in loose coils around your shoulders, slowly dripping water on the robe. His heart sang, believing that you had been cleansed of Min Yoongi and his touches. You looked angelic; damp body covered in nothing but a robe. A strange feeling raged up from his gut, catching in his throat and smothering him in emotion.

His hand reached you as if it had a mind of its own. The fabric was rough. Wouldn’t it chafe your delicate skin? He balled his fist to contain his annoyance. His slender fingers bunched around the sash, pulling you into his arms. He gasped at how cold you were.

“You’re so cold, Y/N.”

Your face was blank. He got no response. Tracing his steps backward, he landed on the bed, pulling you into his lap.

“So cold,” he repeated again, gently nudging the robe away from your shoulder blades to press soft kisses. You squirmed, and he didn’t like it.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he snapped, cupping your jaw.

The hurt was too much and you broke.

“It’s- I – Yoongi.”

He held you in his arms, waiting for the violent sobs to subside, gently shushing you. He didn’t like that you were still thinking of Yoongi. But he had foreseen this. And he had already made arrangements.

“What about Yoongi, baby?”

You sniffed, unsure if you were supposed to tell him. Hell, what else did you have to lose?

“He- I- “More sobs and hiccups before you continued: “-I want to see him.”

He blew out his cheeks softly.

“And what good will that do?”

He attempted to wipe your tears, but you slapped his hand away.

“I’m his wife.”

“Not anymore. He’s dead.”

The words twisted into your heart like a cold iron dagger. The fighter in you returned with a vengeance.

“But Yoongi is alive. At least legally. You just proved that in court.”

He chuckled, the vibrations of his chest transferring onto your own body, sweeping you into the reverberation too.

“Yes. And unfortunately, he died an hour ago.”

You tried to push yourself off him in vain. The hold grew tight, and his eyes became harder. Your voice broke again.

“What do you mean?”

He cradled your head into the crook of his neck, and you revolted angrily by hitting his jaw and pulling back.

“Tell me, you fucking prick!”

He grinned, his irises dark, the danger swimming in them climbing out and coloring his features with malice.

“You’ll find out yourself.”

He sat motionless, looking into your eyes, as you hurled cuss words at him, shaking his shoulders, demanding an answer. You grew tired eventually, and stopped your tirade, choosing to go silent instead.

It was all quiet in the room, with Taehyung holding you in his lap, sniffing your wet hair, when the ringing of a cell phone screeched and cut the silence. The sound was coming from his pocket.

“Take it,” he urged, his voice dark and mysterious. “It’s for you.”

Grimacing, you dug your fingers into his pockets, scowling when he moaned at your touch. Upon finding the phone, you accepted the call and breathed out a shaky “Hello?”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“I don’t have the faintest idea why Yoongi did this,” Mrs. Park said, dabbing her eyes as she patted your hand. “He was such a good boy.” She shook her head sadly. “Maybe I didn’t know him that well after all.”

To say that her words amplified your hurt would be an understatement. You were surrounded by people who were willing to believe that Yoongi had deserted you, ending up dead by a twist of fate. Your Yoongi would never do that. Never.  Yet, the groups of people clustered in the hall seemed to think otherwise.

You looked around at the familiar yet strange faces. Did any of them even care? You thought not. And yet again, the man who destroyed your husband made his appearance, weaving his way through the flood of faces.

“My heartfelt condolences, Mrs. Min.”

You shook your hand free from his clasp. The venomous anger bubbling inside you made you choke on your words as you bit out a forced “Thank you, Mr. Kim.”

“Talk about Karma,” he went on, unmindful of your hostile countenance. “He left you desolate and Karma caught up with him.”

Before you could snap, Mrs. Park nodded her head, acknowledging his words.

“Mr. Kim is right, child. Yoongi got into trouble because he left you. No decent man fakes his death and pins the blame on his wife.”

She became agitated, the sorrow of losing her best friend’s son hitting her hard.

“I wish he hadn’t gotten involved with the mafia, though. He might have come back to you. Alas.”

More tears welled up in your eyes as you listened to Mrs. Park. How you wished you could scream that Yoongi was dead only because of Taehyung!

“I’ll call on Sung-Hee at the Klammer when I leave.” She patted your shoulder delicately.

You nodded with a soft whisper: “Please give her my love.”

Kim Namjoon had come to bid his friend farewell. He was silent as he surveyed the closed coffin, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he controlled his choked emotions. He paused to hiss in your ear when he was leaving:

“You killed him, bitch.”

The funeral was very difficult to get through. People kept walking up to you, expressing their disappointment at the way your husband had met his death. And all the while the killer stood at a corner of the hall, not caring in the least about the gross injustice Min Yoongi was being subjected to, even in his death.

When everyone left, you were standing alone in the hall, working up the heart to bid goodbye to the love of your life. Taehyung had left long ago, playing his part of an innocent visitor.

Your fingers traced the wood, feeling the ridges and following the embossed floral patterns. It was going to be very hard. Biting your lip to contain the trembling, you slid a finger under the coffin lid.

“I would advise against that.”

You looked up with a start. It was him again. You glared at him as your fingers pried under the lid again. He stepped forward with an urgent whisper.

“Y/N, don’t.”

You had already seen the worst happen right before your eyes. What more would frighten you?

Taehyung wasn’t fast enough, and you had already screamed and leaped back when he arrived at your side.

“I told you not to.” His arms embraced you, holding you tight while you continued screaming your heart out. You turned on him with vengeful fury, hitting his chest, throwing a volley of punches with your balled fists. He let you punch him, not even trying to shield himself.

When you were spent from all the screaming and punching, he hugged you as softly as he could.

“I hired the best mortician. But-” he sighed heavily “-yeah; Min still looks bad.”

He was met with no response. He continued hugging you, rubbing soft circles on your back.

“But-”

He bent down to look at your red eyes. “Hm?”

“Where’s his…” You swallowed the lump in your throat. “… his wedding ring?”

Taehyung shrugged his shoulders.

“I don’t know.”

It didn’t matter. You knew that the man inside the coffin was Yoongi. You would recognize those fingers from anywhere. Those long beautiful fingers that had traced lines of love on your skin ever so often. He was indeed gone.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Taehyung was silent as he watched the numbers on the elevator as it climbed up to his penthouse office. It had been three days since he had last seen you. You were at his mansion, alright, but you had locked yourself in a room and had refused to come out. He hadn’t seen you ever since the funeral. He idly wondered if you were still wearing the black dress from that evening. A small conscious cough interrupted his thought train.

So Na Yeon, his personal secretary, nervously fished in her pocket for a kerchief. “Please excuse me.”

He didn’t react. The top two buttons of her blouse were undone. Her lipstick was a shade too bright for his taste. She was interesting to look at. But no one could ever match to you. And thus, he found himself thinking of you yet again.

When the elevator dinged and opened, she followed Taehyung briskly, sailing into his office right behind him. She waited for him to be seated, and then got on with briefing him about his appointments for the day. But when Taehyung waved her away, she remained in place, biting her lip anxiously.  

“Well?”

She creased her forehead, deciding if she should tell him.

“Mr. Wo Bin reported that one of the men is rebelling, sir.”

“In what way?”

“It appears that he asked for a raise and Mr. Bin turned him down.”

“What did Bin say about it?”

She shook her head.

“He said that the man isn’t good enough and that he’s already a waste of your money.”

Taehyung lost interest. He wanted to get his work done with so he could think of you more.

“If Bin said so, I don’t doubt his opinion. Tell him to handle the guy in whichever way he sees fit.”

“Yes, sir.”

She turned and left. And Taehyung noticed her short business skirt for the first time. She seemed really proud of her figure. And then she faded out and his mind wandered to you once again.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

You could hear him fiddling with the doorknob. You knew he had a master key. You had expected to see him break into the room angrily as soon as you had slammed yourself in. But Taehyung did nothing of that sort.

Every morning, before he left, he would try the doorknob. Every evening, as soon as he arrived, he would do it again. There would be heavy sighs outside the door and he’d leave. It was like a ritual, and it went on for six days since the funeral.

On the seventh day, however, he lost his patience. He had waited and given you time to come back to him. He wanted you to walk into his arms willingly. But his patience was wearing thin.

“Open the door.”

He was pressing his forehead against the wood, gritting his teeth in suppressed anger. When there was no sound of movement, his voice rose to a high growl.

“I said open! Now!”

His large palms made contact with the wood as he pounded on the door. Suddenly, the door gave way and opened, the darkness inside the room making it hard for him to see you. It didn’t help that you were wearing black too. At last, he made out your outline.

He reached over to flick the light on, and gasped as soon as the light hit you. There were deep dark circles under your eyes. The straps of the dress were loose and ready to fall from your shoulders.

“God, Y/N, you look like Death.”

He cautiously approached forward, running his eyes over the clavicles that were jutting out sharply.

“It’s been six days. Seven, almost.” He took your hand, pressing it gently. “Come out.”

“No.”

Your voice was so low that he tilted his head to catch the words.

“You need to eat.”

“No.”

He tugged on your hand hard, anger rising in his chest.

“It’s not good for- ” he eyed your belly, “-that thing inside you.”

Hatred lit a spark in your blank eyes.

“It’s a baby,” you hissed, pushing against his chest with all your might. “It’s Min Yoongi’s baby.”

“Yeah, whatever. Do you want it to die? Come out and fucking eat.”

The glaring eyes were better than the blank ones, he noted. He liked you better when you were all animated and furious.

“I wasn’t starving myself. The mini-fridge…“

“I don’t think fruit would nourish your bastard enough. Stop arguing and come out.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Taehyung knew the answer before he even asked the question out loud.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

You were dressed in a soft cashmere sweater and jeans. Yoongi used to love that sweater. He would always comment on how it made you look like a fairy cloud.

Taehyung knew the clothes only too well. He had seen you wear the sweater on multiple dates with Yoongi while he was following you around. It made him mad to see you still dressing up for him.

You didn’t even turn his way, throwing the answer at him sullenly:

“My husband’s grave.”

Taehyung leaned back on the sofa, propping his legs up on the coffee table.

“And who exactly is buried there?”

You turned and stared at him, confused.

“Min Yoongi?”

Taehyung chuckled heartily, crossing his arms and gazing fondly at you.

“Oh honey, how naïve you are!”

“What do you mean?” Anxiety pooled in your chest as he continued chuckling without answering.

He took his sweet time to answer, leaving you standing puzzled.

“Do you honestly think I’d let you visit that bastard in his grave, Y/N? Just so you can make him a martyr? Do you think I’m a fool?”

“What- what do you mean?” you repeated again, feeling your chest tighten.

“He isn’t buried there. There’s another dead guy matching his description buried in his stead.”

“But- the coffin-“

“Oh, yeah it was him in the coffin, all right.” He yawned lazily. “Switched bodies on the way to the cemetery.”

He watched all the emotions flashing on your face, the quiver of your lips, the unblinking eyes as you grasped all the information he had just stated. Finally, a cold blank stare replaced the myriad of emotions that had lit up your face. Slowly, you walked back into the bedroom, locking yourself shut. Taehyung sighed deeply. You were finally his.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

It was obvious to Taehyung that you were suffering him just for the sake of your baby. It was bittersweet to him that the only reason you would stay alive was Yoongi’s child growing inside you. He wished fervently to get rid of that tiny Min seed, but he knew the aftermath would be disastrous.

You talked to him in barbed tones only if it was absolutely necessary. The rest of the time, it was as if he was invisible to you. He had forced you to sleep in the master bedroom with him. But it hurt him to see the wide gap in the sheets between him and you every night.

Sometimes, he would turn in his sleep and a finger would brush against you. And he’d stay wide awake watching you huddle on the corner of the bed, sobbing quietly. It became increasingly apparent that you weren’t sleeping at all. If he so much as shifted in his side of the bed, you would immediately flinch.

Part of him wanted to understand, to hold you, and say that he loved you and wouldn’t hurt you. Another part of him was fueled by jealousy, that even in death, Min Yoongi was winning your attention. It was frustrating to him that his enemy wasn’t alive. Who could fight a dead man’s memory?

It was that part of him that broke loose, when he saw you crawl on your side of the bed, wearing an oversized hoodie that reeked of another man. Not letting him touch you was already a sore point. And the hoodie just made him go ballistic.

“What the fuck are you wearing?”

“Huh?” You looked down at Yoongi’s hoodie. “I am cold.”

“Wear something else or strip naked for all I care.” His nose was flaring with the exertion it took to control himself.

You glared at him for a hot second.

“Fuck yourself.”

Without another word, you turned your back to him.

There was a sudden jolt as he pranced to your side, pulling you so you were lying on your back. His whole countenance was flashing with murderous rage. His knees were on either side of you, his arms pinning your shoulders to the bed. Hot breath fanned your face as he dipped his head down.

“Throw everything away. Everything that belonged to Min.”

You stared at him in defiance.

“What about me? I belong to him.”

His lips twitched ominously.

“He is dead.”

You didn’t back down in the slightest.

“Yes. You killed him.”

You could see the internal struggle he was going through to stop himself from hitting you.

He took a deep ragged breath and dipped his head even closer to your face.

“Listen, Y/N. Everything I did, I did because I love you.” He gripped your jaw hard when you rolled your eyes. “I went through a lot to get you. And I will not let you screw this up for me.” He paused with a haunted look in his eyes.

“Why is it so hard to love me?”

He looked at your lips as if they were curling around the words that would be his lifeline.

“Because you are not Yoongi. You killed him.”

His hot sigh fell on your lips, the heat sucking all the moisture from the soft flesh. You were scared that he was going to kiss you.

He leaned back a bit, catching hold of the hem of the hoodie.

“Are you going to remove this, or should I?”

He got off you, turning his back to you as he rummaged in his closet. Without looking back, he tossed his grey oversized sweater at you. He didn’t wait before adding:

“Wear that or sleep naked. Your choice.”

It gave him wicked joy to see you dressed in his clothes. His scent would be all over you, washing away that bastard’s. He made a note to throw away everything you owned and buy you new ones. Nothing should remind you of Min. Even the most inconsequential thing would have to go. He looked at your back wistfully. Everything but that thing inside your belly.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Two weeks passed uneventfully. Taehyung had given you a restricted phone. You could only call Taehyung with it. Calls to Hoseok and others never went through. You felt like your world had suddenly shrunk to one individual.

There was nothing to do in that big house. You weren’t allowed to work, because, apparently you were ‘not ready yet.’ Sometimes, it crossed your mind that you hadn’t received any letters or calls from your clients and friends. But it was probably because Taehyung screened everything. You were sure he’d filter the air you breathed if he had a way to.

You wondered how your mother-in-law was. Why was it that she went crazy but you didn’t? Had your love for Yoongi not been strong enough? Were you not anchored deeply with Yoongi as Sung-Hee had been with her husband?

Would you end up in a room next to your Yoongi’s mother? But you were sure they would take away your child if you went to the Klammer Institute. No, you shivered in disgust. You would never let Taehyung destroy the little piece of Yoongi left in the world.

The next morning, you emerged from the bathroom, body drained in exhaustion. Nothing you ate seemed to stay in your tummy. Wearily, you padded over to the full-length mirror in the dressing table.

You were pulling the shirt up and gazing at your belly when there was a click behind you. Taehyung stood immobile at the doorway, mouth agape.

His eyes were fixed on the mirror, looking at the tiny flab on your erstwhile flat belly. You had been only a couple months pregnant when Yoongi died, so the bump hadn’t shown. But nature was going her way, and soon you would be heavily pregnant, belly rich and round with child.

Taehyung gazed silently, not uttering a word. It was as if he were on mute. When he opened his mouth, at last, the words that shot out were:

“Time to marry.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Your plea to wait longer fell on deaf ears. Taehyung didn’t want to delay marrying you. He wanted to protect his ego. He would marry you before your pregnancy showed.

You pointed out that people would call you an unscrupulous woman who remarried even before flowers took root on her husband’s grave.

“Do you want everyone to hate me?”

He didn’t even flinch.

“Everyone already hates me. At least you’ll be on my side.”

No matter how you pleaded, he refused to listen. He reminded you of the jail time he had saved you and your baby from.

“It wouldn’t take me a minute to get you arrested again, you know.”

He looked at your midsection. “Want me to sign up for foster care?”

There was no way out. You slumped your shoulders in resignation. It was part of the deal, after all.

“Nothing lavish.” You licked your lips nervously. “Just take me to the fucking courthouse and get it over with.

Taehyung smiled, eyes dancing. The sunny smile lit his face aglow, a strange softness shading his sharp features.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“Y/N, you really are a mystery. So soon?”

Mrs. Kim didn’t care to lower her voice.

“Leave her alone, Mrs. Kim.”

Hoseok’s tone was clipped, annoyance evident on his face.

Bo Na was holding your hand, patting it slowly, her eyes assuring you that she understood why you had to do what you did.

Taehyung smiled, finger grazing the rim of the champagne glass. He was wearing the tux he had bought months before you married Yoongi. He had spent countless nights running his fingers over the dreamy satin, his mind dreaming up heady concoctions of how sparkling you would look as you walked down the aisle, on his arm. He had woven all his dreams into the very fabric of that tuxedo, and the fact that he had, at last, attained what he wanted, made his heart warm.

“To tell you the truth, Mrs. Kim,” he sipped some champagne, waiting until all the attention was on him, “Y/N is pregnant with Min Yoongi’s child.”

Bo Na gasped, her hand flying to her mouth to contain the shock.

Mrs. Kim looked just as shocked. She couldn’t stop lowering her eyes to your belly.

Taehyung continued:

“She needs a person by her side, especially after losing Yoongi so tragically. I was Yoongi’s friend, and I can’t let Y/N suffer by herself.”

You wished the champagne were laced with poison. When had you become so weak? How was it that you let him puppeteer you into silence? Should you have tried and killed him before things got so complicated?

“Lost in thought, lamb?”

Taehyung grinned. No water on Earth would have doused the fiery glare you threw his way. Mrs. Kim called out to her son who was passing by.

“Namjoon!”

Yoongi’s best friend clenched his jaw and exhaled loudly before making his way to his mother.

“Yes, mom.”

“You were wrong about Y/N, boy. The poor girl is pregnant.”

His thick eyebrows arched at you in surprise.

His mother went on.

“And Taehyung only wanted to help, poor darling. Such a good man, he is.”

Namjoon’s eyes locked onto Taehyung’s. The air felt electric as they stared each other down. Namjoon deflated eventually.

“Yeah, I’m sure he is. Excuse me, please.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

There were no words to describe how embarrassed you were by the whole wedding affair. Everything was the opposite of nothing lavish. The decorations were all extravagant, sophisticated, and gaudy in the face of the fact that you had been widowed only months ago.

Taehyung had invited every person who had attended your first wedding with Yoongi. It was almost as if he wanted to flaunt you and brag about how he had fooled them all right under their noses. He was everywhere, flitting from one guest to the other, flashing his boxy smile, playing his part of the perfect host.

The guests were confused if they had to offer their condolences or wishes. It was very awkward for you, the little rip in your heart deepening with each guest’s flustered greeting.

Wow. Everyone pretended as if Yoongi never existed. As if he had never been killed. Killed by the man who danced through the halls as if he were the epitome of innocence.

Hoseok took your hand, leaning in to whisper.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I wish I could kill Taehyung.”

You blinked away the tears.

“Yeah, so do I.”

The sound of a spoon tapping a wine glass cut through the chatter.

“Ladies and gentlemen, your attention, please!”

Everyone stopped chatting and looked expectantly at Taehyung’s uncle, who was all smiles.

“I’d like to say what a fine boy Taehyung is, deciding to take Y/N under his wing, after the terrible misfortune that befell her.” He raised his voice to a higher note. “Especially because he didn’t want her child to be fatherless.”

If you ever had the power to vanish, you would have loved to use it at that moment. There were several gasps and turned heads that looked your way.

“Congratulations, to the new couple!”

Taehyung’s uncle raised his glass, and scattered applause sounded, and grew louder as people digested the news.

Taehyung stood with his head bent, a shy smile painting his cheeks pink.

That devil.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Going through the whole ordeal of the wedding was emotionally taxing. Every little thing about the ceremony reminded you of the gummy-smiled beautiful man you had married with so much love. When Taehyung slid the ring on your finger, you felt a wave of nausea that certainly wasn’t related to your pregnancy. He lowered his head to kiss your knuckles, loving the way the beautiful cushion-cut diamond adorned your pretty hand.

As you were walking out, trying not to cringe at Taehyung’s grasp on the small of your hip, a woman stumbled and dropped her glass, splashing wine all over the front of your dress.

“Oh! I am so sorry!”

Your brain couldn’t get irritated enough to lose your temper. Not when a man had already forcibly married you and assassinated your darling Yoongi’s character just before your eyes.

“It’s alright, Na Yeon.”

Taehyung waved her away, not angry in the least. He then leaned in to whisper in your ear:

“I’m going to rip that dress off your body anyway.”

The ride to his mansion was the longest. You had been living there, yes, but as Mrs. Min. You had hidden behind that name as if it were a consecrated circle. But this time, you were going as Taehyung’s bride. Nothing was going to stop him from claiming you.

“Welcome home, Mrs. Kim,” Taehyung sang to you as the car pulled into the driveway.

“Taehyung-“

He laid his slim finger on your lip, shushing you.

“Call me Tae.”

You scoffed in disbelief.

“You really think I’d call you that? What, do you think I love you?”

He grinned happily.

“You do. You just don’t accept it yet.”

There was a battle of stares and you turned on your heel, stomping away to change out of the stupid wine-soaked wedding dress.

It was confusing when you stopped outside the bedroom door. Because the knob wouldn’t turn. You were fiddling with it for a good five minutes when Taehyung’s chuckle fell in your ears.

He was leaning against the banister, a set of shiny keys in his hand.

“It’s customary to give the lady of the house all the keys,” he drawled, twirling the silvery loop that jangled in his hand. “Our bedroom is upstairs, Mrs. Kim. Newly decorated just for us.”

Irritated, you plucked the keys out of his fingers, huffing your way up to the damned bedroom. When you threw the door open, you understood that he was telling the truth.

The whole room was painted in pastel cream colors, books and music stacked neatly on the glass shelves. There was a huge closet, with mirrors for doors. The closet directly overlooked the giant white bed. Rose petals were strewn across the bed to make a big flower heart.

You knew he was behind you when you heard the brisk step of his shoe.

“Like it?”

You could almost hear his smile in those words.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

The petals stuck onto your thighs as you rolled out of bed. Taehyung was sleeping, his chest pressing against the bed, his arm strewn over a pillow. His rhythmic breathing confirmed that he was asleep.

You shuddered at the shrunken petals, crushed under the weight of your bodies. Taehyung’s dark hair fanned over his arm, and you could see his veins bulging underneath his skin. So strong. Yet, he hadn’t thrown himself at you as you had feared.

In fact, he had gone straight to shower upon entering the new bedroom. You had changed into shorts. Strangely, all your long night pants were missing from the new closet.

Taehyung hadn’t made any sudden moves. He had emerged from the bathroom, stood before the closet-mirrors, tightened the cords of his pajamas, and turned to you.

You had been absolutely sure that you were going to be claimed harshly. But he had simply knelt down, both hands on either side of you, and leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead. Accompanied by the distinct sniff of his habitual smelling of your hair. And then he had risen up and gone to his side of the bed.

Sneaking a look at the man sleeping across the bed, you couldn’t understand why he hadn’t thrown himself at you forcibly. Had he not done it in the glass room?

The bedside clock ticked on, and you decided to pay your parents a visit. You hadn’t been to see them in a long time, ever since Yoongi had started having money troubles. The last time you had visited them, you were Mrs. Min. Something inside you just wanted to get away from the sudden overload of being married to your husband’s killer. Your mind craved something to keep you from going insane. Something that was a constant in the troubled times of uncertainty.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Months ago

Yoongi was at home, all alone. An empty whiskey bottle was lying on the table, rolling to the sides a teeny bit every now and then. He couldn’t believe he had gotten into so much trouble. All those years of hard work his parents and grandparents had put into the Min Group, all the effort, it was all falling apart. Because of him. The heir who wrecked the family. He could almost see the headlines in the newspaper.

His breath was probably smelling like whiskey. You would find out. He sighed.

You. Beautiful, gorgeous, wonderful you. Why had things gone so bad? Why did he ever trust Wo Bin, that bastard?  A thousand questions raced in his mind, the drunken haze making them even louder. How could he ever tell you that he had let you down? That he had let his entire family down?

He glanced at the digital clock on the counter. 3 pm. You would be home soon. Good gosh, was it Wednesday already? Kim Taehyung had threatened to show up at the Min house if he didn’t pay up by Friday. What was he going to do in such little time?

A clang of the doorbell startled him. You carried your own key. Who else was at the door?

Yoongi stood up and the headrush made him stumble around a bit. When he finally opened the door, a delivery girl was standing outside. She was carrying a bouquet of lilies. Lilies. They were your favorite. He was confused. Who sent you lilies at your home?

“Delivery for Mrs. Kim?”

Yoongi stood stunned. What the hell?

“You’ve got the wrong address.”

He tried to shut the door, but the girl persisted in a shrill voice.

“A person called Y/N? Does she live here?”

“Yeah- why…?”

The girl thrust the bouquet in his hands, grinning cheerfully.

“Then these are for her.”

She hopped away, leaving him standing at the porch, wondering what in the world just happened.

When Yoongi went back in, his gaze fell on the little card attached to the bow on the stems. It read:

‘To the future Mrs. Kim.

All the love, KTH.’

The words made Yoongi so angry that his fingers started shaking alarmingly. There was a band of sweat under his collar, even though the AC was on full blast. Anger coursing through his veins, Yoongi clawed at the card and tore it to pieces. He had never been so insulted in his life.

Outside, the delivery girl dialed a number and waited for the man to pick up.

“I delivered the flowers to him, Mr. Bin.”

She paused to listen.

“Yeah, he was alone.”

Yoongi was on his way to dump the flowers in the trash can when his phone rang. Swearing under his breath, he threw the bouquet on the counter and picked up.

“Min Yooooongiii…”

The deep booming voice drawled in his ear. Yoongi felt his cheeks heat up. Sweat was beginning to trickle down his forehead.

“Quit playing your games with me, Taehyung.”

There was a throaty chuckle on the other end of the line.

“Do you think your wife will like the lilies?”

“I swear I’ll-“

“I am sure she received another delivery at her studio.”

Yoongi went mute. What did the card on that one say? He started panicking.

“I’ll fucking kill you, Kim Taehyung.”

The caller laughed in a way designed to specifically irritate Yoongi.

“We’ll see. Remember you only have till Friday to pay up.”

The line disconnected and Yoongi was left fuming, unable to collect his thoughts. He needed alcohol. Something. Anything. Just to douse the white-hot fire burning in his chest.

── ⋆✩⋆ ──

“Mrs. Min?”

You had moved into the new studio only a couple months back. You primarily operated from home, but the studio was needed when you met other clients. Yoongi had set you up with a beautiful studio complete with hand-picked designers who assisted you.

“Yes?”

“Miss Yung is requesting to meet you tomorrow, for lunch.”

You looked at the calendar. Thursday was when you always went to see your parents. But Yung Min-Ji was a wonderful client, and you did have a lot to discuss with her about the styling of her new condo.

“Tell her I’m available.”

“But your usual schedule-“

You smiled lightly.

“I’ll go today instead. No worries.”

It wasn’t a sentiment to go only on Thursdays. It just happened to be that your schedules were light on that day of the week. You glanced at the time. 2 pm. You could use some fresh air.

There was a cool breeze when you stopped by the florist to get your mom’s flowers- carnations. You were walking absent-mindedly, coming to a stop in front of the headstone. You looked at the grave, confusion creasing your eyebrows.

There was a beautiful bouquet of white carnations laid neatly on each of your parents’ graves. The flowers were fresh as if someone had just laid them out. But no one was around. You were the only living person in the cemetery. You knelt down, finding a pool of molten wax. It was hard to the touch. Someone had come by earlier. Further inspection showed that both graves had indeed had carnations and one small lit candle on them. But, they were left by whom?

── ⋆✩⋆ ──

The sound of gravel crunching under the tires of your car woke Yoongi up. His head was throbbing. He held his head, steadying himself before getting up.

“Baby, I’m home!” your melodic voice chirped at the door.

Before he even got to hug you, he was met with your screeches, as you were hollering in excitement. You were jumping up and down in his arms, eyes shining in delight.

“Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongiii-yaahhhh,” you crooned, grinning eagerly, “The flowers- was that you?”

There was a catch in his throat while Yoongi racked his brain.

“Uh- yes. Liked them?”

You swung yourself on his arms, giggling.

“Like? I loved them!”

Oh shit. He remembered the forgotten lilies on the counter. He had meant to throw them away. Damn. How would he explain them?

“Y/N,” he whispered, catching hold of you. “Go on and shower, I’ll be right back.”

You nodded, suddenly transported back to reality.

“Yoongi- you smell of whiskey.”

He turned his back to you, advancing in swift steps to grab the cursed lilies.

“I’ll be back.”

You made your way to the bedroom, mind still buzzing in happiness. You hadn’t even looked at the lilies.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Present day

The soil was wet under your shoes, from all the dew. The guards had shut up and let you leave on foot, without insisting on approval from their boss. Fucking privilege of being Mrs. Kim, ugh.

The faint smell of cut grass kissed your nostrils as you walked absently. It was still early in the morning, and the cool air helped ease your feverish tension. A man was raking leaves near your parents’ graves.

You walked faster, reaching his side just in time to see a bouquet of shrunken white carnations, withered and sad. There was molten wax on the cold marble, just like there had been before. The man sank to his knees, scraping off the wax gently. He didn’t even look your way.

But the flowers and candles? Who was it?

“Excuse me, um, sir?”

He raised his head, one good eye looking expectantly at you, while the other was clouded with cataract.

“Yes, miss?”

You gestured towards the graves.

“Those flowers… do you know who-“

“Aye, them flowers,” he shook his head, “I don’t know nothin’ about who leaves them.”

You crinkled your forehead.

“But you were cleaning the wax, so I-“

“Aye, miss. I been paid to keep these two graves clean. Good money for an odd job.”

Your heart started fluttering wildly.

“Paid? By whom?”

He made a stern face as if he were concentrating.

“Dunno. I been paid to take care of the graves as long as I live.”

He resumed scraping the wax, talking slowly.

“Man paid five grand, one time. Said ‘em graves should be kept spick and span.” He paused to turn around self-consciously. “He said he be checking on me, makin’ sure I ain’t skipped town with them money.”

You didn’t know what to think. It was a weird piece of information to process.

“How long since he paid you, sir?”

He closed his eyes, maybe he was thinking.

“Four years? Maybe five-ish,” he said when he finally opened them.

“Miss, tell him I be doing the work all right!”

The man hollered at your retreating back, nervous that you were spying on him.

You nodded, walking rapidly away. It was incomprehensible. It was a dream. Yes. You had probably dreamt it up. You would wake soon and find your husband’s killer draped all over you.

When you returned gloomily to the mansion, Taehyung was lounging on the sofa, flicking through the pages of a business magazine. You ignored him and made straight for the bedroom. It was only when you hit the shower that you remembered what day it was. Thursday.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“I’m going back to work.”

Taehyung lowered his glass, eyelashes almost dusting the rim of the glass.

“Doing what?”

You folded your hands, staring him down.

“Designing homes and offices.”

He grinned, sipping juice innocently as you tapped your foot in impatience.

“And who do you think wants Mrs. Kim to design for them?”

You hadn’t forgotten that the title alienated you from the rest of the elite. But hadn’t you a uniqueness of your own? You were sure they wouldn’t discriminate you. They were all your friends and Yoongi’s, weren’t they?

“I have friends.”

He took another long sip, smacking his lips just to annoy you.

“No, baby, you don’t. To them, you’re nothing but a traitor.”

“I’m not.” You were sure that he was just manipulating you into his twisted theories.

He tilted his head like a confused puppy.

“Don’t believe me?” He thrust his hand into his pocket and pulled out his phone, extending it to you. “Go on, try calling someone.”

Your instinct was to dial Hoseok’s number. But you knew he would stay by your side forever. Calling him would be like mistrusting his friendship. You thought hard. Maybe you could call Mrs. Park.

You dialed her number feverishly, hoping she would pick up. You didn’t know you were holding your breath until the line clicked and a voice spoke out:

“Yes? Mrs. Park here.”

“Oh hello, Mrs. Park, I’m Y/N, how ar-“

She cut you off swiftly.

“Y/N? What is it, child?”

You nervously looked at Taehyung out of the corner of your eyes. He was leaning back, a bored look on his face as he blew raspberries. Twisting the hem of your tee, you chuckled consciously.

“I was wondering if you knew anyone who’s looking to-,” you licked your dry lips, “You know, to redo their apartments and stuff.”

There was an awkward pause.

“Ah Y/N, I wish I could help you. But you know, Jaewon found a new designer who specializes in Earth tones and my daughter says it’s the craze right now, so-“

“I see.”

Mrs. Park heaved a deep sigh.

“So, yeah, everyone is more interested in following that trend, naturally,” She was rambling to neutralize the awkwardness, “Besides, you’re pregnant and… I hope you don’t mind, dearie.”

“No, Mrs. Park, it’s fine.”

“Call me if you want anything, Y/N.” More like ‘Don’t disturb me again, Y/N.’

“Yeah. Thanks.”

You couldn’t bear to look at the gloating face that smirked at you. He was right. Everyone loved you only when you had been a Min. But as soon as Yoongi died, their allegiance had crumbled to dust.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to hate them, though. You had married Taehyung just months after Yoongi died. Married Kim Taehyung, of all people. It was a wonder that Mrs. Park had even picked the call.  

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Every morning, you stood before the mirror, gazing at your belly. There was no significant bump, but you could just feel the little piece of Yoongi stir inside you. It made your heart sing. How happy Yoongi would have been! How wonderful life would have been with him! Raising your child together, loving each other, looking into each other’s eyes, watching your skin sag and wrinkle; growing old, but your love never lessening.

It was ironic that every day felt like an eon with Taehyung. You were in constant tension around him, like an elastic band stretched to its maximum limit. Even his slightest moves made you nervous. If he reached over for salt, you were left trembling. If he walked out of the shower in his boxers, your heart raced. Everything about him kept you on edge, scared that he would pounce on you without a moment’s notice.

Things came to a head the next Tuesday. You were getting ready to go out for your doctor’s appointment. Taehyung emerged from the shower, rubbing the towel against his wet hair as he walked to the closet mirrors, standing next to you.

His studied your yellow floral dress, only the slightest hint of belly was proof that another human was growing inside you. A tight thread of jealousy snapped inside Taehyung. Yoongi had made love to you, cummed in you, leaving you pregnant. He fumed in jealousy, getting into his pants and picking out his shirt.

He was adjusting his tie when he saw you swirl the tube of lip balm. The same brand you had used for years, lending that delicious glossy sheen on your lips that kept haunting him in his dreams. His tie was left forgotten, and he reached his hand out to gently pull you closer. The sudden rigidity of your body reminded him of a startled kitten.

“What, babe?” He crooned, drawing you nearer. “Go on, wear it.”

When you didn’t comply, he plucked the tube out of your fingers, smearing a glossy coat of lip balm on your lips. He could see the visible heaving of your chest as you struggled to maintain your composure.

Pinning you with your back against the closet mirror, he dipped his head to ghost his breath over your lips. The fruity smell made him go crazy.

Without warning, his tongue licked a hot trail over your upper lip, following the natural curve of your cupid’s bow. He smacked his lips, groaning in lust, and went in to savor your lower lip too.

“Your lips look better with my saliva, baby,” he murmured, gently nibbling on your lips and sucking on the plump soft flesh.

He was heady with need, nibbling harder and pushing himself closer against you. When you tried pushing against his chest, he got mad.

“How long do you think I’ll wait? Huh?” His voice was thick in a mix of anger and want. “Think I’d just fuck my hand forever?”

Your throat felt hollow and itchy when you voiced out:

“I don’t want to-“

His face crumpled in anger.

“Well, too bad, because I want to.”

Still in his pants, he thrust his clothed crotch into your pelvis, the floral skirt allowing him to feel the mound between your legs. He used his knee to keep your legs spread, while he went on thrusting against you. The friction made him curse out loud. One of his hands sneaked to catch hold of your throat, and he nestled his forehead against your shoulder blade, never stopping his thrusts.

His moans grew louder, quicker, and more intense. He bit the soft skin on your shoulder as he reached his climax. He panted in your ear, deep breaths reverberating through his body. With a heavy moan, he licked the bite mark and straightened his back, watching you warily.

Your eyes were closed, face frozen and impassive.

He hadn’t been able to control himself. When he thought about it, he hadn’t even touched his dick once, and yet his seed was all over his underwear. That was how much you affected him.

When he pushed off of you, you still hadn’t opened your eyes.

“Thought I’d change,” he drawled lazily, biting his lip. “But on second thought, I’ll go to work in my creamed pants. It’ll remind me of you all day.”

A drop of salty water rolled down your closed lid.

There were only sounds of him moving around, grabbing his phone, keys and stuff, and then silence.

He hadn’t even touched a button on your dress. But you had never felt so open and vulnerable in your entire life.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Taehyung was in a serious discussion with his board when the intercom rang. He threw an angry glance at Na Yeon, who bowed so deep he could see her cleavage clear as day.

She hurried to answer, looking at him beseechingly.

Taehyung did not like his meetings interrupted. Calls were always screened while he was in discussion. Only an important person or an important matter could bypass the screening.

“What?”

“I am to put it on speakerphone,” Na Yeon replied meekly.

“Do it then.” He was losing his patience.

“Kim Taehyung, you fucking son of a bitch!”

Everyone in the boardroom was startled, looking at each other in panic.

“How dare you take advantage of me like that? You insufferable, disgusting prick!”

Taehyung leaned back in his chair, playing with his pen.

“You miserable bag of shit, I swear I’ll cut your balls off!”

Taehyung drummed his knuckles on the desk, waiting for the tirade to stop.

“You are the vilest asshole on earth!”

The line went dead, and a stunned silence prevailed in the room. Taehyung rose again, going back to the whiteboard. He huffed at the mute people staring at him. He didn’t lose an ounce of his cool.

“So, let’s pick up where we left off…”

After everyone left, Na Yeon stayed back to apologize. Taehyung noticed that there was a beauty mark on her chest, right near the button of her blouse. Well, it wouldn’t have been visible if she had buttoned up her blouse. Maybe she felt sexy. Whatever. He didn’t really care.

“I’m sorry about the phone call, Mr. Kim.”

“It was nothing.” He shrugged it off, he wasn’t very bothered.

She continued unmindful of his disinterest.

“I should have tried to cut the call, I shall screen her next-“

His features suddenly flashed with annoyance.

“She is my wife. She should never be screened. Besides, she has every right to yell at me.” He sneered at Na Yeon as he bit out his words. “You don’t have any right to cut my wife’s call.”

With that, he stormed out of the boardroom, leaving his secretary shocked into silence.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

That evening, when Taehyung returned home, you were in the sitting room, legs crossed. Your mouth was set in a straight line. You were giving off a stubborn aura, and Taehyung fought the smile that threatened to curl his lips up.

“Aren’t you gonna kiss your husband, Mrs. Kim?”

The hot glare didn’t alarm him in the least.

He loosened his tie, sighing in that deep voice of his. It made the hair on your arms stand up. He settled down on the couch, just next to you.

“I enjoyed the telephonic love note today,” he said, fiddling with his cufflinks. He proceeded to unbuckle his belt.

“Especially because my pants were crusted with cum.” He threw his belt on the floor. “Thanks to you.”

You jumped to your feet, wagging a finger at him, screeching in mutiny.

“Don’t ever do that again, you scumbag.”

“Why not?” Mock surprise danced on his face. “Didn’t you agree to marry me?”

“I didn’t agree to be violated, Kim Taehyung.”

He puffed out his cheeks, disinterested.

“You didn’t leave me any other choice.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. Did he expect you to jump on his lap and love him? After he snatched everything you loved away from you? Was he insane?

You threw your arms up, scoffing incredulously.

“How on Earth do you think I’ll ever love you?” The very idea made you gag. “After you killed my husband? Do you have no regret?”

He scanned his fingernails, pouting his lips in mock hurt. His voice was soft.

“I didn’t kill him on my own.”

“What?” The tic on your mouth made your face twitch. “What the fuck are you saying?”

He lifted his eyes to meet yours.

“Everything I did was because I loved you. For you.”

You stared at him, no words coming to mind. You had been sure that you were only the spoils of the war between his family and Yoongi’s. You didn’t believe for one second that Taehyung loved you.

“When you think about it, the reason I killed him was you.”

Your jaw dropped. The sputtering of your mouth made it impossible to frame comprehensible words.

“Me?”

“Mmhmm. In a sense, you killed Yoongi.”

No, no. this wasn’t happening. You had never done anything to hurt Yoongi. He was your love, your precious baby. No, Taehyung was babbling nonsense.

“Shut up,” you whispered, voice shaking.

He smirked at you.

“Think, baby. He wouldn’t have died if you had said ‘Yes’ when I asked you nicely.”

Memories of that fateful day at his office, clad in pajamas and feeling his bulge pressing against you came tumbling back.

It was a struggle to find your voice. “No.”

“Accept that you killed him, Y/N.”

Your vision blurred with tears and you repeated again, “No.”

A shit-eating grin spread on his face. He unzipped himself, sliding into a more comfortable position.

“Would you rather say you killed him or suck my cock?”

The first drop rolled down your cheek, and he repeated his question, voice darker and laced with lust.

You grasped for words. “Don’t do this to me.”

Your plea made him impatient. He wanted the cold war to end already. How long were you going to mourn Yoongi? He didn’t really want to fuck you when you were heavy with that man’s child.

“Either suck my cock or admit that Min died because of you.”

He waited with bated breath, observing the whirlpool of emotions flashing on your face. And then, to his utter delight, you wordlessly sank to your knees.

He unzipped his pants, giddy with excitement. Your face was devoid of emotion. The tears had stopped, leaving stains on both your cheeks. He waited for you to reach and touch him. When it didn’t happen, he lifted his hips off the couch, annoyed.

“My cock isn’t gonna pop into your mouth on its own, babygirl.”

Nothing.

He reached out and grabbed your head, pulling you in so your nose was against his clothed dick. He felt like he would burst at the feeling. He moaned out as he rubbed your face against him, the groans coming out harsh and strained.

He couldn’t wait for you to take him out, so he fished himself out of his boxers, grazing the tip against your lips. The blunt disgust on your face only made him even hornier, and he coated all his pre-cum onto your lips.

“Fuck, Y/N, my cum looks better on you than my saliva does.”

He pressed the sides of your jaw to pucker your mouth open, placing himself inside your warm mouth.

“Go on, baby. Suck.”

He caught your eyes and added in a dangerous tone, “Don’t you dare bite, I’ll fucking kick that bastard to death.” He looked ominously at your belly. He knew your sore point.

Swallowing your pride, you let his muscle glide in and out of your mouth.

“That’s not sucking, babygirl.”

Your spat at him in fury. “Fucking suck yourself.”

He made as if to kick your midsection, and you screamed in alarm. The tips of his toes made slight contact with your ribs and you yelled for him to stop.

“Stop it, stop it, don’t,” you never wanted to sob in front of him, but it just happened out of your control.

“Well, suck it then. And don’t close your eyes.”

You worked on him robotically, trying to trample down the sick guilt that rose up in your chest with each bob.

He groaned and growled, cursing at the sensation of your velvety tongue. He wouldn’t mind if he died and went to heaven. Before he even knew it, he was close to his release. He panted out, cumming hard into your mouth.

You remained in position, not attempting to swallow. He knew you were going to spit it out as soon as you humanly could. His fingers closed around your neck.

“Swallow. Now.”

The pressure slowly increased, threatening to choke you. Your delirious brain conjured a coroner’s report. Cause of death: Choking on cum.

Reflexively, your body fought by opening and closing your pharynx, effectively making you swallow his slimy essence.

Taehyung felt the bob of your throat, his chest puffing up with pride. He lifted you up gently, holding onto the nape of your neck. He gazed at your glistening cupid’s bow, and slowly pressed his lips on yours.

He had never seen your naked breasts, but that could wait. He was already swimming in rabid delight.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“Thank you for agreeing to do this interview, Mr. Kim,” the man said, setting up his notepad and pen.

Taehyung grunted in answer. His mind was somewhere else. He had been in a fight with you over names. He had wanted you to officially change your family name. But you had refused. He hated the Min that rang along with your name. It made him want to puke when someone ever addressed you that way.

“I will not change my name,” you had said, stubbornly set in defiance.

He adored your stubborn trait, but when it came to matters involving that damned Min Yoongi, he hated your obstinacy.

“You fucking will.”

“Make me.” You had folded your hands, indicating that you would not be swayed.

Taehyung was at his office, thinking of ways to coerce you into taking his name. That was when the reporter arrived for a quick interview.

The man started off with questions about Taehyung’s business, his financial turn over and assorted boring stuff, which he answered robotically.

Out of nowhere, the question popped up, making him raise his eyebrows mildly.

“Is it true that Mr. Min and you were friends?”

Taehyung shrugged his shoulders carelessly.

“Of course, we were.”

“But, Mr. Kim, a lot of people expressed surprise at your claim of being friends with him.”

“People like who?”

“People who thought you married Mrs. Min a bit too soon.”

Taehyung snapped in annoyance: “She’s Mrs. Kim now.”

“Exactly my point, Mr. Kim.”

Maybe you would consider changing your name if he compromised. But how?

“Well, Mr. Kim?”

“Huh?” Taehyung had a hard time not thinking of you. “I wanted to help her out, especially after he deserted her, while she was pregnant.”

“How did you know she was pregnant? You testified in court that you didn’t know her too well.” The man leaned forward eagerly. “How did she consent to marry you so soon?”

Taehyung could smell a bait from a mile away. The man wasn’t interested in him after all. He was scoping out facts about you.

“What is it that you want?”

His tone made it clear that he knew what was going on. The man cut to the chase abruptly.

“Did you kill Mr. Min?”

Taehyung swiveled on his chair, taking his sweet time.

“Yes. I killed him.”

The abrupt admittance started his opponent, making him open and close his mouth like a goldfish. When he saw how flustered the man was, Taehyung continued:

“You got your answer, what more do you want to know?”

“But- but why did you –” the man was bewildered. “Mrs. Min, she was on trial, you testified against her.”

“Yes, I did.”

“She could have gone to prison.”

“Right again. Don’t beat around the bush.”

“Was it-” the man swallowed, “-an affair? Did you both plot to kill Mr. Min?”

Taehyung laughed. How he wished that had been the case. He would have been spared a lot of trouble if that were true.

The man wiped his forehead nervously.

“What are you laughing about?”

“Nothing, I’m just imagining how your head would look like on a stake.” Taehyung smiled fondly. “You know, my children would happily play with it.”

Children. Name. Maybe he could compromise on that bastard child’s name? Would that make you think again?

Taehyung’s attention snapped back to watch the man gulp several times, obviously shaken.

“So, did you get the answers you wanted?” He exhaled lightly, adding, “My secretary has your name and contact details, my men would pay you a friendly visit if you blabbered anything anywhere.”

“I- yes, I understand.” The man got up in a hurry. “Please excuse me.”

── ⋆✩⋆ ──

When the reporter left the building, his phone vibrated with a message.

‘Any news?’

He called the sender.

“There’s nothing to report. I’m pretty sure neither Mr. Kim nor Y/N had anything to do with Mr. Min’s disappearance.”

The call ended, and Namjoon sighed. He knew something had happened. Something had gone wrong.

But the reporter couldn’t glean anything from Taehyung. The seeds of doubt took root in his mind. Was it possible that he had imagined the conspiracy? What if there had been no conspiracy and Yoongi really had fled?

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“I have a proposal.”

You looked up from your curled kitten position on the deckchair, overlooking the pool. You were cross that Taehyung had interrupted your attempt at sketching Yoongi.

“Not interested.”

He pranced forward, plucking the sketchbook and tossing it away. The splash of it hitting the water sent droplets flying up and raining on your feet.

“What the hell d’you do that for?”

The reflection of the sun in the ripples of the pool made his face light up and sparkle. He placed both his hands on the armrests, trapping you.

“You will take my name.”

“Forget it.”

“In return,” he whispered softly, “You get to name your baby whatever the fuck you want.”

“I am the mother and I don’t need you to offer me what’s already my right.”

He butted your forehead with his own, clucking his tongue in impatience.

“You really don’t want your baby to see the light of day, do you?”

The scowl on your face was reflexive. It was a bother that he always used your baby as an excuse to get his way.

“Fuck off, Taehyung.”

He threw himself bodily on you, willing a strangled gasp to escape your lips. He spread your arms and upper body to align them with the chair, opening your torso up to him. He was already panting, cursing out as he spread your legs with his knee.

“C’mon now, babygirl, stop being so stubborn.”

He sunk his whole weight onto you, crushing your body underneath him.

The graphite pencil you had been using to sketch was still in your fingers. Mustering up all your strength, you dove it into the back of his neck.

He hissed in pain, jerking involuntarily and pulling the pencil off your grasp. When you struggled to let it go, he placed a well-aimed slap on your cheek, making you freeze in shock.

“You little brat,” he spat out, still pissed about his neck. His palms made contact with your cheeks twice more, sending your face jerking left and right.

“I’ll teach you to stab me, you little-“

He bunched both your hands by the wrist, holding them up above your head. His other hand sneaked between your legs, pushing your thighs apart.  When you tried to wriggle and throw him off, his knee dug into your midsection.

“Want to destroy what we have?” He sunk his knee a little deeper. “Huh, sugar?”

His finger was rubbing circles on your core, making you bite your lips from moaning out.

“Fuck, I’m permanently hard around you.”

His hard length was obvious in the tent of his pants. But as before, he humped against you, not unzipping himself. The friction was making him go wild. He thrust his hips into yours, the knee remaining ominously on your navel.

“Ah ssibal,” he cursed, throwing his head back, consequently making his long dark hair flip and reveal his glistening forehead.

“Oh… Oh.. I’m cumming,” he breathed out, spasming violently all over you, digging himself out of you and spilling his cum all over your clothed belly.

“Ew, Taehyung, you bitch, you’re fucking disgusting,” you screamed, pushing against his chest even as he shuddered in the aftermath of his orgasm. He smiled dumbly, panting out in ragged breaths. He placed his mouth near your ear, tickling your earlobe with his hot breath.

“I want to cum inside you.”

He sighed deeply as if he was thinking quietly about it, before adding:

“Soon.”

He pushed off you, grinning as he ruffled his hair back into place. Whistling softly, he walked away, leaving you trembling in a mix of shock and anger, looking down at your ruined dress.

He had cummed exactly on your belly, like he had carefully meant to.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

The annual costume ball invitations reached your house, one addressed to Mr. Kim and one addressed to Mrs. Min. Taehyung had torn the envelope into pieces before handing you the card. It was probably a snide attempt to snub Taehyung and you knew that it had worked, judging from the annoyance on his face. You wondered if the hosts had intended to send you late invitations, because the ball was slated to happen that night.

You threw it on the coffee table, not caring in the least about some stupid party. But Taehyung had other ideas.

“We’re going tonight. Get ready.”

If the stuck-up Min empaths thought they had made a statement by sending two fucking invitations, they would have to think again. He would show them what fools they were. You were his Mrs. Kim.

The burgundy dress had a cowl neckline, which he absolutely loved. He had picked it out carefully, mind giddy with excitement on how perfect it would look on you. Finally, a day had come for the glamorous dress to do you justice, flattering your body, much to the envy of those losers.

“Wear the burgundy dress I bought you. And the studded heels.”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He opened his closet, apparently searching for something. When he turned, a classic Tiffany box was nestled in his palm. He opened it, and a sparkling silvery bracelet was reflected in your eyes, lending them a beautiful twinkle that made his heart sing.

Delicately, he placed it on the dresser.

“This will compliment you.”

He stood silent for a second, thinking if you would wear it on your own. Something told him you would just leave it sitting on the dresser forever.

“Here,” he took your hand in his, gently placing the bracelet on your wrist. He clasped it and admired the way it looked even more beautiful on you. To him, each fiber of your being was infinitely more precious than the rarest diamonds in the world.

He had never seen anyone more beautiful, and he wished not to. When you descended the porch steps, he felt like a footman taking out a princess on her ride. He was mesmerized by the simple yet graceful features that taunted him, inviting him in.

Taehyung had Wo Bin drive you both to the ball. Taehyung handed you a sparkling rhinestone mask, the wings around the eyes rising gracefully in showers of gemstones. The costume ball was essentially a masquerade, and he had gotten the best masks he could lay his hands on.

“Take my hand, remember, no silly behavior.” He briefly glanced at your belly, driving home his point.

“Stop fucking threatening me all the time, bitch,” you hissed, scowling when he responded with a lazy grin.

The entire ballroom was abuzz with people clad in their best clothes, complete with masks of every color, style, and material. Taehyung’s chest was stretched to the max with pride as he waltzed through the floors with the most beautiful woman that night on his arm.

A couple hours later, you were weary to the bone. “I’m tired, I wanna throw up.”

He rolled his masked eyes. “Right. Stay here, I’ll get you water.”

He turned around as an afterthought. “Want me to walk you to a bathroom?”

You shook your head, indicating you were fine enough to just sit.

“ ’Kay.”

He went off, leaving you seated in a comfortable chair.

He was, however, interrupted mid-way by a woman dressed in a jade green dress with a deep neckline that left almost nothing to the imagination. The Venetian mask lent an air of mystery to her ombre eyes.

“Mr. Kim,” her voice was hauntingly thick with desire.

She placed her index finger delicately against his tux, poking him. “I’ve been fantasizing about you for years.”

He couldn’t form a coherent comeback. He was a man who prided on never being tongue-tied while facing a woman. But the simple statement had such force that it knocked his thoughts out like bowling pins.

“Uh, excuse me, I have to-“

She traced her fingers on his arm, patting him slowly, whispering:

“Please stay.”

He couldn’t believe how tongue-tied he was. He flashed his left hand at her, declaring in a harsh tone:

“I’m sorry but I’m married. Very happily so.”

“Is that true, though?” Her voice dropped even lower. “You are married, yes, but have you been loved back? Why pine after a hopeless fruit while another aches for you?”

He shook his hand free, annoyed. Very much annoyed that she was stating the bitter truth that his heart refused to believe.

“Excuse me, I have to go back to my wife.”

“Maybe you could at least dance with me once?”

His jaw tightened.

“No, thank you.”

She pouted her crimson lips, sadness clouding her eyes.

“I thought so.” She touched his elbow with a smooth “At least a peck on the cheek for your admirer?”

He bent his neck, intrigued by the strange woman, but she took him by surprise, going instead for his lips.

Her tongue snuck out and outlined the curve of his upper lip before her mouth pressed against his. Startled, he took a step back and his gaze dropped to the cleavage she was generously offering. She giggled naughtily, winking at him. Damn the woman.

The hot feeling in his cheeks didn’t go away for a good five minutes, and he was still pink when he returned with the glass of water he had set out to get.

He frowned when he saw a tall man talking to you, bending in half to address you.

“You, you are just a gold-digging bitch, you whore,” the masked man was saying, just as Taehyung materialized behind him.

“Excuse the fuck, did you just fucking insult my wife?”

The man straightened up, turning to glare at Taehyung. His mask did nothing to hide who he was. The hooded eyes, the tall lithe frame, the rich timbre of voice, all screamed Kim Namjoon.

He dug his hands into his pockets, staring at Taehyung with menace.

“Yes, I called her out for jumping on another dick as soon as she could.” He focused his most hostile leer at Taehyung before adding “The dick being attached to you of all people.” He didn’t stop, spewing more hate as he addressed you:

“Are you sure the baby is Yoongi’s, Y/N? Did he ever know what a cunt you are?”

The anger was so hot that Taehyung felt like his brain would short circuit. He balled his fists, ready to shatter the mouth that had spoken so ill of you.

Before he could do any damage though, you grabbed hold of his hand, tugging at him harshly.

“Take me home, I feel sick.”

He sent Namjoon one withering glance and exhaled angrily. Namjoon would pay later. He would make sure of it. He guided you out, practically shaking in fury. He texted Wo Bin to meet both of you on the porch. He was zoned out, and you asked something that just flew out his ear. When you slapped his elbow, he caught your words just in time.

“Is that lipstick on your mouth?”

Taehyung creased his eyebrows, turning back to consider something. The masked woman, she had licked his mouth before kissing. It was a kink of his to lick your lips. How did she know that he loved doing that to you?

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

The way Namjoon had spoken to you felt like a cold slap to the face. If that was what he thought, was that what everyone else thought of you too? The whole social circle of which you and Taehyung were a small intersecting arc, did it think you were a gold-digger too?

The shame enveloped and consumed you, the flames of hatred licking at your heart. Your entire life was ruined by Taehyung. Only he was responsible for all the mess. Everyone seemed to focus only on you. He was in the background like an innocent bystander; but all the while, he was the puppeteer who pulled all the strings, bending everything to his will.

A bitter cold war was brewing between you and him, growing in intensity by the second. You had avoided him for days, slipping like an eel whenever his footsteps sounded. Every night, you slept on the couch, only to wake up on your side of the bed in the morning.

It was hard to sleep. Because you were constantly worried that he would violate you while you were sleeping.

You didn’t know that Taehyung spent three-quarters of the night perched on the steps of the staircase, waiting for you to drift to sleep. He silently swooped in and carried you to bed each night, making sure to tuck you in comfortably.

A few weeks later, you dressed up in a loose black hoodie and attempted to sneak out for a walk. But just as always, he caught you. He had casually blocked you with an outstretched hand, looking at you oddly.

“What the heck are you wearing?”

You tried to force your way out, but man was he strong.

“Get out of my way, Taehyung.”

He blew out his cheeks, shaking his head in disapproval.

“That hoodie is the opposite of flattering on you, honey.”

Curling your fists, you hit him on his arm, trying to make him move.

“I don’t care, so let me go,” you hissed at him.

“I care about my wife’s fashion choices,” he replied, reaching out to grab the hoodie. But just as quickly, he drew his hand back in shock.

“What the…” he whispered, horrified, reaching his hand out again.

His fingers gingerly pressed against your belly, feeling the small bump that was evident to the touch. He started back in horror. It really was growing. The reality hit him like a harsh slap. Min’s child was really growing inside you.

In one swift motion, he gathered you up in his arms, deciding that he couldn’t waste any more time. He couldn’t wait forever.

Dragging you upstairs to the bedroom, he led you to stand by the bed. His face was ablaze with hot emotion, his dark eyes gleaming with fiery hunger. He shrugged his suit off in haste. Long slender fingers gripped your hoodie, lifting it up to reveal the soft protrusion he had touched earlier. He looked panicked, like a guy who had missed the last airplane bound home.

“I can’t wait any longer,” he breathed, gently trying to undress you. “Forgive me, I am out of time.”

He pressed kisses on the side of your neck, lifting the hoodie up inch by inch until the cups of your bra were visible.

“Oh, Y/N, I-“ his voice was strangled, “- I can’t,” his hands found purchase at the small of your back. “I can’t take you when you are ripe with his child, I can’t wait that long.”

He eased you out of the hoodie, holding your hands to prevent you from covering your bra-clad breasts. He had only entered you once, he hadn’t forced himself into you since the day Yoongi died.

It had been his desire to wait for you to want him. But nature always liked complicating things. He couldn’t bear to think that you would be heavy with child in a few months, and would be busily occupied with the baby for months after that. No, he had no choice.

He was sliding your pants off when you half-choked out: “You could just… let me go.”

The wetness of your cheeks broke his heart. But your words had hurt him more.

“No. No, I can’t. You are all I have.”

“You know that’s not true,” you whispered.

The pained look returned to his face.

“No. It should have been me.” He gestured to your belly. “That should have been mine.” A tear rolled down his cheek, and he sniffed. “It should have always been me.”

“Taehyung- “

His lashes were moist and he shook his head, not wanting to listen.

“You were meant to be mine. Don’t you see?” His haunted eyes were tender, his raw feelings on display just for you.

“Do you- do you even like me?”

You remained silent, nothing but underwear bridging the gap between you and nakedness. His face contorted in pain.

He shuddered and shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, pulling both your hands above your head and pinning them in position. His other hand gingerly traced the outline of your bra. He licked his lips, looking into your eyes as he dipped a finger between your breasts, running it along the elastic strap and leaving your skin riddled with goosebumps.

His finger continued running down your midriff, stopping at your belly button. He closed his eyes and pretended that the bump didn’t exist, hurrying to slip his hand into your undies. It fanned his ego to feel your wet folds.

“See, your body likes it, hm? Why do you rebel so much?”

He leaned down to sniff your hair, greedily inhaling the scent like a man dying of thirst. He removed the hand pinning yours with a warning squeeze. Just as quickly, his hands flew to your breasts. His touch was ever so tender. He gently kneaded the soft flesh, moaning out as a little bit of areola peeked out of your bra. The self-control snapped, and he pulled the cups down, exposing your squished breasts.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he sounded so raspy, “Fuck, you’re so goddamn beautiful.”

Like a man in a trance, he dipped his head in the valley of your chest, nestling there, letting out the weakest of whimpers. His fingers worked feverishly to get the damn bra off you. He threw it across the room, burying his head in your bosom with a contented sigh.

There was a stark contrast between you and him. He was fully clothed, and you were in only your undies, entire chest open to his view. It led you to feel even more weak and vulnerable. When your hand tried to shield your breast though, he caught it, his voice came out from between your soft mounds in a muffled whisper:

“Don’t.”

He gathered both your breasts in his hands, moaning thickly as he rubbed his face against them. His tongue found your nipple, giving tentative licks before full-on sucking on the nub. He was a passionate man, and your breasts were glistening with saliva by the time he was done worshipping them. His mouth let go of the nipple with a soft plop, the dark eyes focused on your own the whole time.

His tongue drew a line from the middle of your ribs down to your navel. He paused at the elastic band of your undies, working on tugging it down. But impatience got the better of him, and he cursed, ripping the fabric easily as if it were the weakest of paper. He touched the wet patch on the crotch and looked at you, dangling the ruined fabric above your forehead.

“See. Y/N? See how wet you are for me?”

You didn’t reply. He gripped your chin, yanking it so his breath fell directly on your mouth.

“Kiss me, Y/N.”

When you didn’t attempt to kiss him, he straddled your hips, crashing his mouth down on yours. But the kiss wasn’t passionate, nor was it anywhere near romantic. You just wouldn’t open your mouth and let his tongue in. He could have kissed a pole and gotten a better reaction than yours.

It kindled the embers of rage in his heart, and he undid his tie, tying it around your neck like a noose. His shirt and pants were still on, and he rolled the long end of the tie until the fabric started tightening around your neck.

“Up,” he said, tugging the tie and making your head rise from the bed a bit. Holding onto it like a leash, he pulled your upper body was hovering precariously above the bed, both your hands holding onto his shoulders lest you fall and snap your neck.

“Now,” he hissed, “Lick my tongue”

The tie-noose tightened around your neck, threatening to cut off your airflow. You hoisted yourself up, shaking as your sight started to blur.

“Can’t” you heaved, “breathe.”

The fabric didn’t relax one bit.

“Hurry up and lick my tongue then.”

You blindly slashed at the air to find his mouth. Right on the verge of blacking out, you thrust yourself at him, begging entry into his mouth with desperate licks. Once you felt the hot muscle, you lapped at it, and just as quickly, the tightness eased, making you gulp mouthfuls of him, your body struggling to get your respiration back to normal.

“You bast-“

He thrust himself at you again, muttering:

“Shh. Lick me again,” and dipping his tongue into your mouth.

He moaned, chest vibrating against yours with the intensity of his strangled groans. When he broke the kiss, a string of saliva connected your mouth to his, a big bead hanging in the middle, the weight making it drop and splotch on your thigh.

He leaned back working on his shirt buttons. They didn’t open fast enough, and he started ripping the buttons off, eyes locked on your nipples. When he tore the fabric away from his body, his whole wide chest was naked, save for a thin chain around his neck. It had what looked like a silver key for a pendant, you weren’t sure as it kept dangling with his every move.

He remained in his pants, gathering your body and pressing you against his chest. A strained moan escaped his lips, and he trailed kisses down your neck, past your shoulder blade. His tongue flicked out to reach places his lips couldn’t.

One hand cupped the slight hint of your bump, prodding gently but also warning you against doing anything stupid. He pulled your hand towards his crotch, placing it on his clothed bulge.

“See,” he moaned, “See what you do to me?”

He stroked his bulge with your hand, fighting the urge to close his eyelids and lose himself in bliss. He had been hard for so long. Too fucking long.

“Take me out.”

His whisper sent a shiver up your spine. But you didn’t move. You didn’t have a choice to stop it. But you had the choice to not comply.

He cursed, too impatient to reprimand you. He unzipped his pants, leading your hand to his hard dick. He closed his hand over yours, effectively jerking himself off with your hand.

“Fuck, baby, that’s it,” he threw his head back, snapping his eyes open just as quickly when you gripped his dick too tight. Intentionally, of course.

“What the fuck?” He pushed you onto your back, dragging you by the legs into position. All the tenderness had evaporated from his countenance.

“You really want to screw this?” He hovered his body over yours, menace evident in the curl of his lips. The squirming pissed him, and a swift slap landed on your cheek, accompanied by an angry “Fucking behave, Y/N.”

“Get off me,” you bit out, aware of the drool sliding down your chin.

“No,” he said, humping his dick against your pelvis. “You are mine. Don’t fight this. He’s not coming back. He’s dead.”

He saw the tears kindling, and added cruelly:

“Because of you.”

“Stop saying that,” you screamed, trying to knee him in the groin. But he only laughed.

“You always complicate things, Y/N. I only want to make love to you.” He sighed innocently. “But you just make it so difficult.”

His forearm dug into your neck, preventing your head from moving. His other hand snaked down to your soaked clit, rubbing circles on your sensitive pearl.

“Who was always a bitch in heat for Min’s dick, huh?”

The question left you speechless. He smirked.

“Who loved to ride his thigh and get her ass spanked?”

“Shut up, shut up.” you couldn’t think of any other reply. How did he know all of that?

He simply shrugged.

“Okay, sure. I’d rather fuck you than talk about your dead man.”

He really wanted to eat you out. But he knew you would kick him in the face if he tried to. Maybe he should get restraints before trying that. Besides, his dick was already aching with being hard for so long. He slid his pants off completely, getting in position, aligning himself with your entrance.

He placed his forearm against your belly, deciding it gave him better leverage that way. Looking down, he inched himself forward, watching in fascination as he disappeared into you, your bodies becoming one. Just like they had always been meant to be.

The silky walls were tight around him, and he held on for dear life. You were going to be the death of him.

“Fuck, ah, fuck,” his breath constricted, the finality of actually being inside your velvety folds driving him crazy in exhilaration. He set a fast pace, snapping his hips into yours as if his life depended on it.

“Tell me how it feels, baby,” he cooed, “to know you killed Yoongi for this cock.”

Your whole face burned in rage.

“No, you tell me, how it feels to know you killed a good man for a piece of pussy.”

He chortled, not slowing down in the least.

“Awesome, really,” he panted out, licking his lips as he kept thrusting. “I can kill a whole army for this pussy.” He was not ready yet to say ‘It’s not just your body, it’s you I want. The whole you.’

He pulled the tie around your neck, telling you to get on all fours.

“I can’t dumbfuck, I’m pregnant,” you spat out.

He simply flipped you over, crossing both your hands over your chest so you were kneeling on the bed, with his hands pressing your wrists against your breasts.

“Shit, baby, how are you so tight? Guess he never filled you like I do, huh?”

His tongue licked the back of your ears as he kept thrusting. You were doing your best to not make any sound. You didn’t want to give him that satisfaction.

“Tell me,” he panted, driving himself deeper, “Tell me I’m bigger than him.”

His finger slipped into the tie-noose, twisting the knot.

“Say it.”

You were sure he wouldn’t stop. Panic flooded your body, jumping into escape mode.

“Fine, you’re bigger.”

A dark chuckle rang throughout his chest, making your breasts bounce as aftermath.

“Be more specific, baby. Describe it.”

There was another tight twist, and you gave up.

“Your dick, it’ bigger, it’s- Fuck, I can’t breathe- It’s thicker, it’s longer, okay?”

He smiled into your skin. Gently loosening the tie, he kissed the light welts around your neck.

“Let me hear it again.”

“You’re bigger than him,” you repeated in defeat.

“Fuck yeah, that’s my girl. Cum around me, baby.”

His groans were loud and animalistic, like those of a man possessed. His pounding got frantic, rattling the headboard and eliciting curses from your parched throat.

God, how he wanted to fuck Min’s spawn out of you and fuck his seed into you instead! The thought sent him spinning into his climax, releasing hot ropes of cum into your tight walls. The growls from his chest chilled your blood. He held you incredibly tight against him, riding his wave out, clutching onto your ribs in passion.

The shivering sigh blew against your ears, and he gently pulled out, kissing down your shoulders and back as he did so. Your knees gave out, sending you collapsing down, but his hands caught you just in time.

When he had finished prodding and poking his fingers in your clit to feel his cum, he uttered in a ghost of a whisper:

“You cummed for me, baby.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Were you ready to kill Taehyung? To be frank, you didn’t really know. It was an idea that had crossed your mind millions of times. But taking another life was too horrible to even comprehend. On the other hand, it was a fact that he would continue to make your life hell.

It was a difficult decision, but one you had to face. Were you doomed to live forever with him? Take all his obsessed declarations of love for you? Live in constant fear that he would hurt your child?

Was it worth killing a human for peace? You looked down at your baby bump. He was going to be a terrible father to your baby. The orange canister by the lawn was just alluring. Was all the solution you ever needed in a can of garden pesticide?

The throbbing of your heart was so loud you were sure the guard could hear it. But now you were not just any woman. You were his boss’s wife. Hell, every guard in the fucking house addressed you respectfully.

“Mrs. Kim?” The man stepped towards you with a question on his eyebrows.

“I want the lawn to myself for some time.”

Usually, there were no guards by the pool. Taehyung would pluck their eyes out if any of them snuck up on you while swimming. But the lawn was a different story. There were a lot of guys walking around with guns. It surprised you to see them file out of the lawn like a bunch of disciplined kids.

But you knew their focus would be on you anyway. They didn’t serve you, they served Taehyung.

Making an elaborate show of tending to flowers and picking weeds, you loudly muttered at the gardener’s apparent failure to keep the flower beds weeded out. Kneeling down near the orange can, you unscrewed the lid with an air of ignorance.

“Foul smelling shit, what the hell is it?”

The can toppled over your dress, soaking the cotton. Just like you had expected, a man shot out of nowhere, hurrying to your side.

“Are you alright, Mrs. Kim?”

You batted your eyelashes inoocently at him.

“I- yes, I need to change. I think gardening and I don’t mix.”

He accompanied you inside, turning back to leave. Once upstairs, you nervously wrung out the poison from your soaked skirt.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“What’s that?”

Taehyung had asked sooner than you had expected. You feigned surprise at the question, looking over to where his eyes pointed.

“Oh, nothing.”

Much to your chagrin, he nodded and went back to tapping on his phone. What if he didn’t ask again? Well, you could try again later. Patience. You couldn’t get caught.

Getting up slowly, you danced your way to the fridge. You peeked at the contents, closing it with a sigh. Turning to look at the counter, you absently reached for the cup. You were cradling it in your hands, and just as you let your lips touch the rim, he raised his head.

“Coffee?”

You shook your head. “Protein shake.”

He placed his phone on the coffee table, gazing intently at you.

“Well, aren’t you going to drink it?”

“Oh, yes.”

You sipped from the cup, not minding his stare boring into your face. He leaned back, spreading his arms on the sofa. His face was unreadable. When your throat bobbed after the last bit of drink, he raised his eyebrows mildly.

“Done?”

You shrugged your shoulders, without answering. He considered your face for quite some time, before his curiosity got the better of him.

“So, should I call the ambulance?”

You bit back a grin.

“What for? I’m not in labor yet.”

He watched you suspiciously before giving up.

“I know about the pesticide.”

You stifled a yawn. “Of course you do. And?”

He knew you were smart. You were a fighter. There was no way you would drink a cup of poison to get away from him. The poison surely had been intended for him. But he had just watched you down the cup without flinching.

“And,” he said, face serious, “Why don’t you get on with it?”

“What exactly do you mean?”

His passive demeanor broke, leaving his face twisted in vulnerability.

“You want to kill me.” You flinched at the word ‘kill’.

“So, go on and kill me, Y/N.”

Your eyes met, and you reached for a cup wordlessly.

“Not a fresh cup. I want to drink from yours.” He pressed his fingertips together, watching you as you poured out milk. He hated coffee. And you knew. He saw you drop one sugar cube in, just like he liked. The warm flutter in his heart died just as quickly when he saw you reach into the spice cupboard, extracting a pill bottle.

You tipped the bottle and liquid fell out of it, rippling and disappearing in the small white whirlpool of milk. Without a word, your fingers reached for a spoon and stirred the cup. His stare was burning into your skin. Your own heart felt like lead, so heavy and drenched with guilt.

His fingers had a subtle tremor when he reached to accept the cup. Placing it on the coffee table, he smiled at you.

“I love you, Y/N.”

It was a lie, you were sure. He only wanted to ruin Yoongi. He never loved you.

There was nothing to say. You didn’t believe him.

He drew a sharp breath, meditating if he wanted to speak his mind.

“If I die in your hands, your baby and you will be left alone, Y/N. Penniless. But you will get your independence, yes.” He paused, a suspicious watery film glinting under his lashes. “You can be happy and raise your child on your own. But you will return to me in the end.”

The arch of your eyebrows creased your forehead, asking the question your lips failed to.

The smile reached his eyes, a manic shadow casting a fearsome look on his face.

“Whenever, wherever you die, you will be interred in the Kim crypt, just next to me. We will be together even in death.”

The entire breathing mechanism of your body stopped working.

“What? But that’s –“

He flowed on, seemingly uninterrupted.

“And Y/N, the place where Min Yoongi is buried, the secret, it will die with me.”

Without hesitating, he grabbed the handle and drew the cup to his lips. The warm milk touched his lips, the fumes from the poison overwhelming his nose.

[saffron-nova21]

Whipped Cream: Iwaizumi's Bonus Scene

The Next Chapter Masterlist

< Previous Chapter • You Are Here • Next Chapter >

Warnings: Reader is a little flirty, Iwa-chan busts his lip, Kuroo is conniving, Strong language

Everyone had finished their meals about five minutes prior, now just working on finishing your drinks before the checks were brought out. And in this time, Kuroo had managed to get under your skin, as he was so well adept in. At this point, it was a game to him, to see how quickly he could get you to retaliate. He never went too far, mainly just making statements that he knew you would fight him on.

Laughter bubbles from Kuroo's lips as his eyes scan over you. "In what world? You might have played volleyball in high school, but you haven't lifted anything heavier than a couch cushion, since."

His words held some truth, though not as much as he thought. Though you weren't a health nut and you were out of practice, some of your closest friends were Bokuto, and by extension Hinata. You had been pretty adaptable with positions, in high school. Your brother was the Captain, your ex-boyfriend a middle blocker, and your former best friend a setter. Practicing with each of them, throughout your life had made you pretty talented.

In high school you'd had the opportunity to go to multiple of Japan's sponsored training camps. You'd never gone, but that was only because you had too much going on at home, at the time. You'd also been looked at by multiple universities for scholarships. At the end of the day, though, you chose the same path as your best friend.

You could still spike a volleyball with the best of them, if you did say so yourself. So, with narrowed, challenging eyes, you speak up. "You really think so? I hardly go outside and I'd still win a practice run against you, Tetsu."

Kenma shrugs, briefly looking up from his phone to eye you both, "I believe it. After all, Bokuto does drag them off to help he and Hinata practice a lot."

As his eyes travel back to his phone, you look from him back towards Kuroo. "Exactly, so suck my dick."

Kuroo, though, only seemed to grin. And his grin was one you were all too familiar with: he knew something you didn't.

"Great. So then you'll really be an asset to the volleyball team, being so skilled and all?"

Iwaizumi looks towards you with raised eyebrows, "You played in high school?"

"That's the only part of that conversation you decide to comment on?" Kuroo rolls his eyes, placing his head against his fist, his elbow resting on the table.

Holding up your right hand to Kuroo, you flash him the sweetest smile you can possibly muster, before raising your middle finger to flip him off. Though as you do, his hand shoots out to catch yours, a smirk stretching over his features as he catches your hand before you can withdraw it. "You asshole." You hiss as you try to pull your hand back, mistakenly pushing your body into Iwaizumi. Kuroo, however, just holds his grip on your wrist, until you end up attempting to put all of your weight into jerking your hand back. That's when he finally decided to let go, allowing your body to jerk into Iwaizumi's.

Iwaizumi, who'd been sipping on his hot chocolate, tried to prepare for things, though he wasn't as prepared as he might've wished as the mug hit his lower lip, not only busting it, but also smearing whipped cream along his top lip and nose. With a glare directed towards you, he attempted to reach across you for the napkins, but you beat him to it, "Thanks, Kuroo, my boss hates me now."

You then turn towards Iwaizumi with a hand full of napkins, grabbing his jaw to turn his head towards you so you could help him. But holy shit, how had you not noticed that jawline beforehand? Bringing your hand up, you begin to wipe the whipped cream from his face, while Kuroo flags someone down, between his cackles, to get some ice for them.

"You certainly cause a lot of trouble, don't you?" Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, trying to draw attention away from the fact that his cheeks had a slow-growing blush dusting them. "We split them up to prevent disaster, but you seem to be the source of most of it."

You turn up your nose, "And to think that I thought you were hot -"

"If anything, you find him hotter now. You've always had a thing for douchebags." Kenma flashes you a smirk, before returning his eyes to his phone.

You let out a quiet huff, face warming in embarrassment, "Kenma, I don't wanna hear it from you. You're just jealous because I'm paying more attention to Iwa, here." Sticking your tongue out at him, you pull the napkins away from his face, placing them on your empty plate. "There you go." Bringing your hand to his cheek, you pat it with amusement flitting across your features.

Iwaizumi only rolls his eyes at you, "You remind me a little too much of a friend of mine."

Everyone looks over as a waitress comes over with a few ice cubes in a cup, Iwaizumi thanking her as he takes the cup, before plucking an ice cube from it and wrapping it in a paper towel to place against his slightly-swollen lip.

"Speaking of your friends," the way your tone changes makes both Kenma and Kuroo collectively roll their eyes, knowing exactly what - or rather, who you're going to bring up. Though, you ignore them to continue your conversation with Iwaizumi, "You know Oikawa, right? Like personally?" A frown crosses his face as he raises an eyebrow, prompting you to continue. "I don't want anything. I'm not going to ask for his number, or some shit. I've got Bokuto and Hinata wrapped around my finger, if I'm looking for a volleyball player."

"Y/N, you can't just say things like that." Kuroo brings a hand up to massage his temple.

The Athletic Trainer blinks, "So, what are you asking for?"

Looking back up at him, you tilt your head, "Nothing, I just wanted to see if Kuroo was telling the truth. I can't even lie, though, I use to watch Seijoh's games, to see his service ace. It was fucking killer. Hell, he was the reason I taught myself how to do it. And I do pride myself on my jump-serves. I use to be able to do jump-floats, as well, but that's a little iffy, now, I'm not going to lie.

"Now that I think about it, Seijoh had some cute players. Especially when I was in... My second year of high-school, there was this number four. God, he was fucking amazing. I loved watching him play. Plus those biceps were to -... Kuroo, shut up, your laughter makes it so hard to concentrate." You stop to look at Kuroo, who is doubling over in laughter, while Kenma shakes his head at your misfortune.

"Y/N, do you know what team Iwaizumi used to play for?" Kenma looks at you with a ghost of a smile.

From there, you can piece things together, cringing a bit as you look back at Iwaizumi, "Would you believe me if I said that I meant... Number... Sixteen..?"

Iwaizumi lets an amused smirk grace his lips as he looks at you, "That's cute. Good to know that you actually have some taste. I nearly lost faith with your adoration for Loserkawa." He brings his mug back to his lips, fingers grasping your wrist so he can tug your hand away from where it was holding ice on his lip, proceeding to finish off what was left in his mug, obviously getting ready to leave.

You didn't respond, instead looking at his upper lip, where whipped cream rested. You were so used to the comfort you had between you and your close friends, like Kenma and Kuroo, that you didn't hesitate to just reach out and wipe the excess away, Reaching out, you place your fingers on his cheek to steady your hand, while your thumb swipes across his upper lip, movements fleeting, before you withdraw your hand. It isn't until you're wiping your thumb on the napkins that you realize what you did, face and neck warming in embarrassment. Though, you weren't the only one, as the porcupine-haired man brought a hand up to attempt to hid his flushed cheeks.

"I've got to... Uh- Get the boys some stretches for their day off. See you on Monday," he excuses himself to stand, retrieving his ticket so he'd be able to pay at the front of the restaurant.

"See you on Monday, Iwa," your cooed words make Iwaizumi flush a bit darker, mumbling something under his breath before bidding you all goodbye as he attempts to rush out, in embarrassment.

With a sheepish look directed towards Kuroo and Kenma, the two watch you in amusement. "Whoops," you rub the back of your neck with a sheepish grin crossing your lips.

Iwaizumi was friends with Oikawa for years, so while he did get use to some of the near flirty teasing from his best friend and learn how to counteract it, sometimes his is caught off guard.

You found out about Oikawa and Seijoh's team, after seeing him in a magazine. (And yes, you do see more about this, later.)

You also rooted for them to make it to Nationals so that you could plays against them.

I'm really sorry guys, the past few days have been chaos, but there will be two more parts coming your way to make up for it, tonight and tomorrow. I hope you're all doing well. You all most definitely better be taking care of yourselves. I'm rooting for you and I'm proud of you. Remember to eat and drink some water, and get some rest. You deserve it.

General Taglist:

@kookie-doughs @halesandy @ermahgerd-larry-and-ziam @its-the-aerieljeane @onlyonew @kac-chowsballs @saltylettuce @thathoneybee3 @daninaninani @akkeyomi @vintagexparker

The Next Chapter Taglist:

@bnha-meme-sanctuary @nachotrash @haijkk @maadaaaa @prettyinblack231 @sakusasimpbot @kellesvt @bebetiny @ash-levi @calumsfringe @z3ld4 @erinoikawa @bandaged-despair @chaseyui @atria-avior @just-that-bi-girl @magical-fandoms @one-simp-more

[setterspirit]

play date with raden

tw; some more serious topics; mentions of drinking, teen pregnancy, etc.

❥ ‑‑‑‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑

“unless raden and you want to go to the park, that was the plan, yes,” you reply, nodding slowly and eyeing your son who seemed unfazed by your look of... disgust.

“unless raden and you want to go to the park, that was the plan, yes,” you reply, nodding slowly and eyeing your son who seemed unfazed by your look of... disgust.

“unless raden and you want to go to the park, that was the plan, yes,” you reply, nodding slowly and eyeing your son who seemed unfazed by your look of... disgust.

“unless raden and you want to go to the park, that was the plan, yes,” you reply, nodding slowly and eyeing your son who seemed unfazed by your look of... disgust.

“unless raden and you want to go to the park, that was the plan, yes,” you reply, nodding slowly and eyeing your son who seemed unfazed by your look of... disgust.

“then i can wear these!” eito declared, punching his fist in the air in triumph, heading over to his legos.

“no, absolutely not,” you insist, shaking your head vigorously and shooing your son back into his room, this time following him to pick out the outfit he would wear today.

“but mama, i want to wear these,” the five year old pouts, a frown on his face as he looks anywhere but at you.

“and i’m saying you cannot,” you reply firmly, placing the clothes you’d picked out on his bed. “i’m amending the rule i made concerning those-” you gesture to the pants he’s wearing, unsure what to even call them. “monstrosities,” you settle on. “you can wear those only around the house if it’s just the two of us.”

“what if uncle kei, uncle kenji, uncle kanji, uncle taka, uncle ken, or auntie mai are here?” the young boy questions, knowing he doesn’t have to look so nice with them.

at “uncle ken” you freeze, eyeing your son curiously. kentarō had only recently allowed for eito to call him uncle, and you still weren’t used to it. he had been so uncaring in the past, often shaking you off or ignoring you whenever you would invite him to join you and the rest of the group in an outing or dinner with eito. but recently, he’d been more willing to go, and at first it had thrown you off, but you eventually got used to it, often enjoying his company when he would join your group.

“yeah, those are the only exemptions,” you finally answered with a tight lipped smile. “now please be a good boy and change before raden gets here,” you finished, turning around and walking out of eito’s room, closing your eyes in exasperation once you’d reached the livingroom. god, sometimes being a mother was difficult, but you honestly wouldn’t change it for anything.

before you can get too lost in your thoughts, a knock at the door sounded, signaling that raden and his parents had arrived. eito, having changed into the clothes you’d picked out for him, raced to the door, excitedly pulling the door open to reveal the smiling face of his best friend and his slightly tired looking mother.

smiling at the woman as she watched her son race away to start playing with the legos eito had abandoned earlier, you offered to let her in, smiling and leading her to the dining room when she accepted your offer.

you were so thankful to the nishimura family, who’d been skeptical about leaving their child alone with you at first, but had soon warmed up to you when they realized just how much you loved and cared for eito. you didn’t blame them for having their skepticisms, it was only natural the family get to know you better before they leave their child in your care. you were, after all, only 20 when you’d first met them. leaving two toddlers with a 20 year old single mother was nerve wracking to any parent, young or old. so they hung out with you, invited you over to have dinner with them, observed how you interacted with their son and your own. for a 20 year old, you were quite mature, probably due to the fact you were raising eito alone.

“so, how have you been, l/n-san?” she questioned, fully turning her attention towards you.

“i’ve been good! i recently reconnected with an old friend, so that’s been keeping me in a happy mood,” you replied with a bright smile. the woman across from you observed your shift in features, from your usual soft smile to a bright, genuinely beaming smile.

“really? who is this ‘old friend?’” the woman questioned, interested to know what kind of person could make your mood shift so much.

“suna rintarō,” you replied excitedly, watching as nishimura’s eyes widened upon the realization of who you were talking about.

“hold on, suna rintarō, as in ejp raijin’s middle blocker suna rintarō?” she questioned in disbelief, with you nodding your head excitedly in response.

“yeah, we used to live next to each other and we went to the same elementary school before i left japan,” you responded, nishimura’s full attention now on you. “i don’t know how he found me, but he did, and we’ve been catching up since that big msby vs adlers game.”

“how do you mean, big?” the woman questioned, eyebrow raised questioningly.

“oh, you didn’t know? that game was like a huge one for old rivals,” you replied. she knew you knew a few famous volleyball players, she did follow your twitter, after all, but she didn’t know that you pretty much knew all the big names in the volleyball world now. “kageyama, ushijima, and hoshiumi used to be rivals, not just with each other, but also with four of the starters on the jackals team, too. sakusa, bokuto, miya atsumu, and hinata. that game was hinata’s welcome back to japan, in a way, and he was playing against his high school setter, kageyama tobio.”

nishimura nodded, intrigued. “and you know them all because?” she wasn’t trying to say you were lying, she would never call you a liar, she was simply curious to know how you knew all of this.

“i was a manager for date tech,” you replied with a small laugh. “and my cousin plays on the sendai team, the frogs, and he played on the same high school team as kageyama and hinata.” let’s just chalk it up to the fact you had a lot of connections to professional volleyball players.

you continued to talk a bit, pausing to watch your sons before nishimura received a text from her husband, asking where she was. it was nearing noon when she finally had to leave, so you bid her goodbye before preparing lunch for yourself, eito, and raden — mac & cheese because what 5 year old didn’t love mac & cheese?

the rest of the day passed rather uneventfully, eito and raden continuing to play with the legos tsukishima had bought eito, with you going around the house tidying things up or cleaning little messes you found they’d made. often times, you’d find yourself texting suna, too, catching up with him during his breaks between practices.

by the time dinner came around, raden had been picked up and taken home, the boys promising they’d see each other again at school. once he’d gone, you had eito clean up his toys that he and raden had missed, helping your son out so you guys could hurry over to mai’s for a dinner and game night with the boys.

TALK ABOUT SURPRISES

[ masterlist | eight | nine | ten ]

word count; 1.5k+

fast facts;

fact #1; there’s a HUGE difference between the way y/n acted in elementary school vs how she acted in high school. she was always the more timid between her and suna, so hearing her say she would willingly go to parties threw suna for a loop.

fact #2; futakuchi was a semi-bad influence in high school, but he mellowed out more in third year because of his newfound title as the vbc captain. that didn’t stop y/n from partying, though, as she sometimes needed to blow off steam and parties were the easiest way.

fact #3; y/n has only had one relationship, the one person being eito’s sperm donor. he walked out on the relationship when y/n told him she was pregnant, so now she’s worried about getting back into a relationship, especially because now she also has to think about eito’s feelings.

fact #4; the nishimura’s have been a huge help to y/n as she raised eito. they’ve given her helpful tips and watched after eito when she needed a babysitter and aiko was busy.

✨) summary; l/n y/n is a single mother living with her 5 year old son in sendai. suna rintarō is a professional volleyball player, the middle blocker for the ejp raijin. the msby black jackals vs the schweiden adlers is a game between two of japan’s v league division 1 teams that bring together many old rivals. y/n is dragged to the game by her cousin, tsukishima kei, claiming she needed to get out and do more than just work and take care of her child. reluctantly, she goes along with the usually salty blond — leaving her 5 year old with a babysitter — to watch the game between two of tsukishima’s ex-teammates. suna makes the executive decision that he will be going to the game to support his former teammate and setter, miya atsumu, with komori asking if he could accompany the middle blocker so he could support his cousin, suna readily agrees and they also invite washio to go with them, knowing he’d want to see bokuto as well. a chance encounter at the game of old reunions brings together two old friends and feelings start to re-emerge. follow y/n and suna as they get to know each other again, fend off any unwanted attention, and work through parenthood in “talk about surprises!”

a/n; some suna x y/n content in the beginning, mama y/n and eito content at the end. i’m really sorry if you want more suna content! i just wanted to show y/n and how she is as a mother. next few chapters should be a rollercoaster, you’ll see. 👀 see ya in the next update, loves! 🤍✨

updates every monday!

taglist; @pieckiya @its-the-aerieljeane @amatee @crayonwriting @reblogthatgoodfanfiction @mint-mai @akaashiwife @kac-chowsballs @sugarb0 @bdanie @the-golden-jhope @goodpop9 @navymacaroons @tendo-sxtori @sirachano0dles @seijqhigh @hannahlxu @mattsunsupremacy @winunk @briidge @kageyamasgirl @yongboxerrr @kiyoovmie @elianetsantana @ofmiceandsharks @bokutokita @honeydrip @tycrackculture @madmelle @kitkozume @gushinim @luckypartyranchmug @kenssister @matsukawaslut @smthn-about-smthn @devilkittymusic @tsukkisfatsimp @k3nma-fairy

bold and strike through means i couldnt tag. ):

check the masterlist to see how you may be added to the taglist. <3

[nishinoya-can-rolling-thunder-me]

Guess Monster

Tendō Satori x Reader

Summary: you catch a certain guess blocker’s eye at the youth training camp that you were invited to help manage

Still getting in the swing of writing for Haikyuu lol

Masterlist

The sound of balls bouncing and zipping by had just become a sound that made up the usual ambiance that echoed through your ears and into your brain. Watching those balls slam down to the ground and rise to the ceiling was also such a sight that had become so normal to your bored gaze that stared on in your position to the side of the small gymnasium as you watched the first years selected for the youth camp continue their warm up besides the two coaches. Though one thing that you couldn’t get ahold of was the antsy red head beside you that stared on with such an intensity that it made a shiver travel through your body. It made every single hair of yours stand on end. Though also embarrassment also took hold as he only did just that. Stood by. You almost had to physically restrain yourself from facepalming at just the thought of knowing that Hinata really and truly did sneak into the youth camp held for these few selected first years to be trained and guided in the gym located on the vast grounds of Shiratorizawa. Not only that, but to be told that he would only merely be a ball boy and nothing else. He would be the one to help wash the jerseys and set them to dry, fix water bottles, and chase after any ball that tried to escape. Though now he helped you keep track of the score of the game between the trainees and Shiratorizawa’s own boy’s volleyball group.

You were merely only a manager of Karasuno’s team that was asked to come on to help take notes of each individual player and keep track of their progress, very much like Kiyoko had taught you to once the two of you had found the groove of being the boy’s volleyball managers and was now teaching Yachi. You were the unlucky one to be offered up to do such a task.

“Hinata...can you stop being weird?” You whispered out sharply to Hinata. Your sharp words only seemed to put a even stronger determined look upon his face as a whistle pierced through the air, you letting out a sigh as you reached a hand to flip the flaps of plastic tat had their bold numbers printed upon them, adding another point to Shiratorizawa’s team.

“What? I’m just being a ball boy.” He almost seemed to proudly announce, causing you to almost turn red from the second hand embarrassment that seemed to take over your senses. How cold someone just be....like that? Seemingly so immune to embarrassment or shame? You knew he felt fear by how he worried of Daichi’s lecture or how he explained the feeling of despair once Mr.Takeda had scolded him with his eloquent words, but that was at least normal and expected. Heck, sometimes you could see embarrassment over take him on the court whenever he would make a fool of himself, but off the court it was like he was immune. Though you had to admit, he was forever evolving with his skills and techniques. So maybe that intense stare upon the court was just a part of the process of evolution, though the blaring whistle sliced through your thoughts. The set was over and done with and now both teams were having a cool down to rehydrate and catch their breaths.

“I have to go do something...” Hinata finally mumbled out before rushing off, you only huffing as you leaned against the sign, watching the other ball boys clean up the court and hand out bottles and towels.

“So! You’re a manager at Karasuno, right?” A voice soon piped up, your gaze slowly and lazily moving to land upon the source. The person in question was now lazily leaned against the score board along side you, red hair spiked upwards and of course had a strange....appearance. That appearance was quite hard to forget. Tendō Satori was a force to be wreckoned with when it came to his guess blocking upon the Karasuno vs. Shiratorizawa match and the middle blocker’s appearance was unforgettable since it was a bit different and you would be lying when you said it wasn’t. You’ve also heard the rumors and the whispers about him too from friends that went to school to Shiratorizawa or other friends from different schools who heard things and whatnot, just horrible gossip that you would listen to and indulge in, but never truly believed a word of it.

But knowing his nickname was the ‘Guess Monster’ sent a shiver down your body. The name was just so...intimidating and terrifying.

“Yes I am, I’m a third year at Karasuno.” You spoke, the silence falling between the two of you. You guess he suspected you to say more, speak more, just something. Though once he realized you weren’t going to say more, he continued on with speaking. Judging by how quick he was able to find the words to continue speaking, it seemed like he had much practice with executing one sided conversations.

“Third year? Would have guessed right, then. You are all...mature and respectful...unlike that shrimp who keeps staring everyone down.” He joked as he shrugged his shoulder and shot a glance over to Hinata who seemed to be pep talking one of the other first years that were actually invited to the youth training camp. It was actually kind of amusing to see Hinata try to cheer up such a large, tall, and stronger looking guy. It honestly almost made you laugh. Almost if it weren’t for the conversation at hand.

“And you’re a third year, but honestly I seemed to find you loud and...disruptive.” You hurriedly quipped back. Just hearing him call Hinata a shrimp just shot a bolt of heat through your body, a flare of anger. It was funny whenever Coach would endearingly say it or anyone of the team. Heck, you didn’t even care if Tsukishima said it, it wasn’t out of character for him to just be sarcastic or a little insulting. Hearing someone you barely knew call him that behind his back to you almost in a....demeaning manor just set a scowl upon your face as your stoic glare moved to rest upon his surprised features.

“Look I’m sorry, I was just trying to be funny.” He said with a laugh as he sheepishly scratched the back of his head as he looked down to you. It seemed like now you finally realized his towering, lanky figure as he allowed himself to straighten up for just a second before leaning back upon the score board. “I was just trying to make you laugh, but that really didn’t work....what a fail.” He said with yet another laugh as he looked to the shiny hard wood floor of the gym, watching the youth trainees being corrected and given advice to help strength their weakness or at least try to improve their weak points. “Kind of expected him to be invited to this thing...did he really break in?” Soon piped up his voice again, you only watching on ahead to the first years, lips beginning to move with your response.

“No he wasn’t...but he somehow got the bright idea to crash the training camp and I guess took on the roll of ball boy in order to not ruin his pride.” You muttered out, gaining a laugh from the other as your eyes watched the determined figure that belonged to Hinata dart after the escaping volleyballs, that strange look upon his face as he concentrated. Though the Whistle interrupted your words that were soon to continue, the coaches of Shiratorizawa calling over their volleyball team for a second match, Hinata now running back to his position on the other side of the score board, Tendo giving a little squinted look to the shorter and younger boy before looking back to you. It almost seemed like he was going to say something, but chose to just jog off instead to start another set with the trainees.

“Wow, you talked to that crazy guess blocker?” Hinata asked, standing at attention as he watched the first serve, eyes watching the ball sip back and fourth until the whistle blew. You nodded your head as you flipped the correct number, now looking over and to Hinata.

“Yes I did, wasn’t really much of a conversation though.” You admitted bluntly. Hinata of course gave a dramatic little huff as another sharp whistle sliced through the conversation, instructing you to once more flip the score board. “What did you expect? Him to relay all his darkest secrets to me?” You sarcastically added, but Hinata was already lost in concentration upon the practice match that went on with him.

The day was long and boring to be quite Frank. Your foot were tired from your constant standing beside that stupid little board and walking back and forth to keep an eye on all the players and of course on Hinata so he wouldn’t make an absolute fool of himself. Though the Guess Monster- or really Tendō had caught your eye many times. He seemed to cast his glances to you after a successful block, almost as in he was making sure you saw it. Then those few times he would totally be off with his intuition he would be checking to see that you didn’t, but you always seemed to catch a glance of his movements and game playing. It was the cliche thing that would happen in those cheesy American hallmark movies where those two people always seemed to be catching each other’s eyes and glances, though you did not think much of it all except for it being a big coincidence at the end of the day as you sling your bag upon your shoulders, bidding everyone farewell as you were prepared to walk back home alongside Hinata and Tsukishima.

“Hey! Ms.Karasuno’s Cool Manager!” Came calling out a voice. There, that red haired, atrange boy was jogging out of the gym and towards you, the two first years looking to you confusingly, though only continued walking forward as you waved them to continue, your bored gaze landing on Tendo, hands clutching onto the strange of your bag that slung over one of your shoulders. “I was wondering if I could get your number? We can maybe hang out sometime? Head out to town together?” He said with a hopefully look upon his face as he looked down to you, though he was only met with silence, the sound of your shoe scuffing up against the sidewalk was the only noise to he heard until finally you went digging into your bag, pulling out a pen before grabbing ahold of his arm and scribbling down a sequence of numbers before placing the pen away.

“Text me anytime...Tendo...” you said, a slight flush upon your cheeks as you shyly tucked a strand of hair behind your ears before turning away. “Tsukki! Hinata! Wait up!” You called to the two first years ahead of you, jogging forward to catch up with them.

“What was that for?” Hinata soon asked as he looked over to you, Tsukki in his own world along side the music that played through his headphones.

“Nothing....I just forgot something and he gave it back, just a silly old pen...”

[wickedgamesoyaoya]

❧ A little piece for my sweet @bringmelily​ who isn’t feeling well! I tried, okay. Best I could do with the limited time I had. 

❧ About: A fluff fic where your best boy(friend) Rintarou comes to take care of you when you’re ill. 

❧ WC: 1.3k 

❧ A/N: enjoy, I hope I did Rin justice! 

With practice coming to a conclusion at a quarter after five, Suna’s first instinct was to check his phone before entering the shower, a choice that earned him several comments from his fellow team-mates. The middle blocker dismissed the artificial groans and insults with a lazy smile and a little shrug to indicate his lack of care towards their opinions. Though, any humour that could be traced along his features instantly vanished when he saw a missed call and text from your parents. For a moment, he simply stared at the lockscreen, cursing internally as he clenched his jaw. He knew you were sick, but not that sick. Last night you complained about a headache that stretched across your forehead, but he assumed that was prompted by lack of sleep. Clearly, he was wrong. Why else would your parents be calling him and texting him?

After sending a text to reassure your parents that he would be heading over immediately, the volleyball player placed his phone into his bag then proceeded towards the locker-room to retrieve the remainder of his belongings. It only occurred to him after his shower that he may have accidentally lied to your parents, he wouldn’t immediately be heading to your apartment. He had one stop to make first, that is to purchase a few items that would be essential to nurse you back to health. 

When he did finally reach your apartment, two plastic bags were draped against his wrists as he fished for his keys in his pocket. Based on the information provided by your parents, your roommate was currently on a trip, so he elected to skip the curtsey of knocking. Truthfully, even if he did knock, the sound would not have registered on your ears. 

Once the front door was ushered open, his eyes naturally landed upon the limp figure resting upon the couch. There were dozens of discarded tissues decorating the ground around you, resembling a collection of discarded papers by an overachieving writer. 

It took you a few seconds to notice that someone had entered the apartment.

You blinked your heavy eyelids in extended intervals, struggling to determine the identity of the intruder. Only when your boyfriend was stood a few paces away from you were you able to connect the missing pieces.

“Rin… are you wearing three masks? Your ears are red.” Pressing your elbows into the cushion supporting you, an attempt was made to bring yourself into a seating position. Seconds later, when your arms caved from the pressure, a groan exited your mouth. When the hell did the world drop an elephant on you? And why!?

“Glad to know you can still see, y/n.” The sarcastic remark was issued in a higher volume, to account for the fact there were three layers of fabric acting as a barrier. By the pout registering on your lips, he had to resist the urge to tug on your cheeks, like he usually did. Even with the visible signs of illness adorning your features, he still found you sickly adorable.

With Suna biting back a snicker at the clever remark he made to himself, your pout only became more exaggerated.

“I’m on my deathbed and you’re still sassing me.” Whining out your words, you removed the Kleenex box from your chest, relocating it to your face.

“There’s only so much I can do in the circumstances.” Suna shook his head, exhaling a sigh at your attempt to hide from him, before removing the cardboard piece from your face and placing it onto the coffee table. “So, tell me. Did you eat?” As the question was posed, his gaze wandered away from you, towards the kitchen where the takeout he bought was sitting on the counter. Your appetite would usually become non-existent whenever you were ill, but there were certain foods you could not refuse. And he made note to only invoke this trap card whenever you were ill or upset at him.

“Yes.” Rubbing your eyelids, you battled a yawn causing your features to contort. Thankfully he missed the not-so-pleasant sight. What he did catch, however, was how the affirmation was spoken in a slightly higher pitch.  

“…Anything beside painkillers?” The expression that was now on his visage was emanating suspicion with a touch of disappointment. If you weren’t completely drained, you would have asked him if he was your mother.

“…No.” To spare yourself from the irritation that would likely be sparking in your boyfriend’s eyes, you shifted on the couch, turning your attention to the back pillows. But the black-haired male had known your answer even before it left your lips, and there was no irritation present in his irises. Rather, there was determination – all he wanted was for you to feel some sort of relief.

“Alright, let’s get started on that then.”

The middle blocker plated the meal in a manner that radiated elegance, and even managed to write ‘get well soon’ with a chocolate syrup. You never understood why syrups would be used at fine dining establishments. Outside of aesthetic purposes, they were useless. How were you supposed to eat it? Were you supposed to lick the damn plate?

But you appreciated the sentiment behind your boyfriend’s attempt, though you wished he would have accompanied it with some ice cream…

“Thank you, Rin.” The expression of gratitude was partially incoherent as you kept the spoon tucked inside of your mouth. Maybe it was the delicious food that brought your taste buds to sing in joy, but for the first time all day, you felt strong enough to bear a smile. “Are you gonna stay the night wiff – with me?”

“Yes, I’ll stay the night ‘wiff you’. How else will I make sure you don’t die?” Suna lifted his attention from the fibres of the carpet below him, continuing to tug at the individual threads absentmindedly. He knew maintaining a safe distance was required under the circumstances, but he was itching to wrap his arms around you.

“Aw. You don’t want me to die.” Removing the utensil from your mouth, you waved it in the air, with excitement.

“If that’s surprising to you, I’m seriously concerned.” The action brought him to raise an eyebrow, as his eyes followed the movement of the spoon.

“It’s not, it’s not.” A gentle laugh pushed past your lips as you shook your head to sooth his concerns. After lowering the spoon onto the empty plate, curiosity took reign over your tongue. “But I gotta ask. Did you only come because my parents called you?”

“No, idiot.” His response was stated with a scoff of disbelief. While time management was certainly not his forte, nothing was more important than your health. “I came because I’m here for you through sickness and through health… Or whatever way that saying goes.” The cheesiness of the retort only dawned on the middle blocker after it was vocalized. And unfortunately, he would not be granted the opportunity to recover from it.

Upon hearing his explanation, your heightened emotions instantly brought liquid to form at your waterline – a sight that Suna Rintarou was not prepared for. As a whine sounded within your throat, he presented his best poker face, to mask the emotions chewing on his stomach.

“Shut up.” The command was exhaled with an artificial grunt as he forced his gaze to the carpet that he was viciously picking at.

“Rin!” Curling your fingers into a fist, you rubbed at your eyelids roughly, reminding yourself that you were not allowed to touch him until you were better. But maintaining distance was an onerous task when your boyfriend was spewing a freaking marriage vow. 

“Let me finish.” He mistakenly assumed that you were declaring his name in protest, not because you were suffocating in adoration towards him. “Shut up and get better so I can kiss you when you make that damn face. Alright?” A faint smile tugged at the ends of his lips as he propped an elbow against his thigh in order to rest his cheek against his folded fingers. 

Needless to say, between his clarification and the smile gracing his lips, the amount of liquid parading down your cheeks increased  substantially.

Sure, you were in pain, but you were also so damn happy.

[dearest-kibble]

If ur doing korra requests too, how about Amon hcs?

Yknow now that you’ve put that thought in my mind, I uhhh love it. (Also I love Amon’s voice like Amon and Zuko/General Iroh have,,, the best voices. also take a wild guess at who doesn’t have any gifs?)

So let’s say you were an equalist.

A really devout equalist. You were born a nonbender and were more than tired of being pushed around by the triple threats. Injustice had already plagued your world and though you weren’t around for the hundred year war, you’d heard your fair share of stories from your grandmother and father. And the things you’d seen.

Metalbenders making their own money while you had to get by with whatever you earned that day.

Waterbenders who were fabled you bend people to their will.

And there was nothing you could do about that. You were one person, trying to tell others of the injustice you had seen.

So when Amon rose to guide those who have been oppressed? To knock the benders down a peg? Oh you were all for it.

You attend the first rally, then the next and the next. Revelation after revelation. Watching as Amon — the man who’d been scarred by a fire bender who’d been so wronged in the past — make everyone equal. Benders should not have more privileges than the average citizen and if the equalization or numbers was needed to illustrate that?

Well you were all for it.

Amon had even been spirit touched so your siblings-in-equality said.

“Just like Avatar Aang,” excites whispers proclaimed as you watch in satisfaction.

Of course he deserved to be equated to Aang, he was truly trying to make peace and bring balance to a still unbalanced and unjust world.

He rarely speaks with others to hear out stories.

But so your Brothers, Sisters and siblings day, he’ll speak to his followers.

It’s here where you meet him.

In the boiler room of an abandoned Sato factory.

“Thank you, you’re doing something truly amazing for this city. I’d been trying for at least,” You pause to think and stare into his mask. He has deep, blue eyes. “A year before you started to make a difference. This cause, it means a lot to me. If I can do anything to help-”

“Tell me, what have the benders done?”

His voice which you’ve heard carried by a microphone, was much quieter up close. Calculated, volume measured carefully. Words chosen with tact to glide over a silver tongue and rich voice, iced with precision. Iron gravels somewhere in his throat.

It sounds unnatural.

He truly was sent by the spirits.

“They’ve counterfeited money, firebenders - do I even have to explain? Waterbenders, bloodbenders! Yakone terrorized people! The sheer amount of power plant jobs that are given to firebenders! Earthbenders who don’t need to keep a job! And no one will say no to a waterbender after Yakone!! None of it is okay in this world, but you, you strive to make things right in the world again.”

“Join my team. Your experience will prove quite useful to our efforts.” Icy eyes bore into your own. “You are quite useful.” You dip your head in respect.

“I aspire to be of use to this cause. I will devote myself fully to helping you.”

“It will be quite beneficial, I assure you.” If you could see his face (can he even smile?) you were sure he was smirking under the mask.

“Of course Amon, I hope it will be!”

“We have much to discuss. Please, follow me.” He walks to his microphone, places his hands behind his back and speaks with authority. “Brothers and Sisters, soon we will have yet another revelation. One that will make the benders tremble. Soon, we will have true equality, just as Aang intended!” Amon steps back slowly and stands proud as the equalists cheer and roar in approval. He waits for two chi-blockers to flank his sides before beckoning you over with a flick of his wrist.

“Tonight we discuss our ideas for our campaign. Follow me.”

He leads you through a heavily guarded back door.

You suppose being hunted by the (all bender) police would give reason to having so many guards stationed. You walk through doors that part at Amon’s appearance and are greeted with the sight of motorcycles and one truck.

“After you.” He gestures to an open truck and you walk towards it with no question. The interior is bare save for two uncomfortable benches and it occurs to you, this is probably a stolen vehicle.

“So, where are we going? You have got to have a hideout or something, right?” You have no problem stealing from those who steal from you on a daily basis.

“You will see. It’s a quick drive.” There it is again. The hint of a smirk in his voice.

The ride passes in a silence. What do you say to the leader of a revolution?

“Sir, we’re here.” A man in a mask opens the front door. “We will leave you now. Our eyes are still watching your position.” The man nods as he gives a small salute in the form of a bow.

“Very well. Dismissed.”

“Thank you brother!” You give the man a bow back as he leaves the doors open.

“Make sure to return the vehicle to its rightful place.” Amon’s voice calls to the driver as you jump out of the truck.

You expect to find yourself in a dark cave or forest. Not a dark, secluded part of town.

“It makes sense that you’d be here.” It’s a little less climactic than you thought. But hiding in plain sight always did help far more than going out of your way.

“Come inside, we have much to discuss.” Somehow without your noticing, his good is down, his mask away from his face, though he was apparently prepared with a scarf.

“I suppose with your burn, a facial scar would be far too easily recognizable. They’d figure out it was you right away.”

He just nods as he fiddled with a set of keys.

He’s just like everyone else. He just happens to be leading a revolution.

You hear a click, and the door opens to a very bare, sterile room. Masks line the walls, along with various plans and writing utensils.

He waves his hand in a motion for you to enter. Stepping through the door it becomes about five degrees cooler, at least. The scarf might not just be to cover his face.

“Sit.”

“Thank you,” you look around for a place to sit. There is only one chair and you look at it for a minute before realizing Amon’s deep icebergs of eyes are looking into your back. You walk to the chair and sit. It’s uncomfortable being the only one sitting and Amon towers over you.

“I guess I shouldn’t tell other Equalists where you live, I’m sure you’d have fanatics at your doorstep,” You attempt to crack a smile and realize that, yes, He can smile despite the burn that covers his face in a diagonal stripe.

“Hey! Even the spirit touched Amon can smile!”

“Yes, he can.” He allows himself a modicum of uncalculated speech. And it’s quite drastic how much a difference it can make. He quickly shifts back to the leader of a revolution and asks you how you’ve been wronged. You two talk for the better part of two hours. The equalists are going to take away all bending they can, only a select few are allowed to keep it if any. Amon is going to highlight you as a source of what imbalance there is between benders and those who are born without the gift.

“So we are going to get my story out?”

“Yes, I believe it has great value to our cause.” Burned lips curve into a larger smile.

“I never thought I’d see this day,” You are aware of the tear that’s in your eye, but this was something you’ve long since dreamed of happening.

You deserve a good few tears.

“I hope that my story can help bring to light the reality of Republic Cities treatment of nonbenders.”

“It will. You will help me to eradicate Republic City of benders.” His voice is water smoothing rocks.

“Is there anything else I can do for the cause?”

“Indulge me in a story,” Amon turns away from where you sit, still inches taller than you as he walks towards a window you didn’t know was there. It’s been covered by a curtain.

“My brother and I grew up years ago, before the Fire Nation wiped our family out.” He takes in a breath. “We has been playing out in the rain, a good omen for a good harvest, when we smelled smoke. My younger brother started to run. I begged him not to go,” You hear another labored breath make it through his nose. “Smoke in the rain only meant one thing.” You both knew what that thing was. “Once I realized that he wasn’t going to come back, I followed him back to our house, tripping in the mud as I ran, desprate to catch up.” You’re aware you’ve shed more than a few tears. “I was too late. My family was gone, Mother and Father died at dinner and My brother had been crushed by a beam on fire. I tried to lift it but it was too much. I couldn’t and it fell on my hands. I leaned down to talk to my brother, but he was already dead. I screamed at the flames, unable to come to terms. I went numb and my face, came away like this.”

Amon turns around for emphasis, sliding the curtain on his window aside.

It’s a full moon.

“I-I’m so sorry,” You wipe a tear only to realize it wasn’t there, it must’ve fallen. “I can’t possibly imagine what that must be like to lose a family. Benders should Pag for what they’ve done. To you, to your family, to anyone.”

“Was it an effective story?”

“W-what?” His blue eyes, cold like the night sky behind him do not blink.

The blood vessels seem angry.

“I take it from your tears that my story was an effective one?”

An orb of water, hovers above his right hand.

Veins bulge from beneath his gloves.

“You’re,” tears should be falling down your face. They’re not. “You’re a waterbender. Let me-“ You’re voice is going dry and you have a good idea of why. “Let me g-” the words stop in your throat which is quickly growing patches of water. A hand moves to claw af your throat to remove the words you’re choking on before it stops midway up to your jugular. Your fingers curve and flex before your whole arm is forced to your side.

“Bloodbender.” He laughs, cruel and deep.

He plays with the orb of water - your tears.

“You look a little parched.” He gives a dark laugh and flicks his wrist again, and your arm twitches uncomfortably as you feel a rush of blood shoot through your body. Your tears move oh so slowly into your forced open mouth.

You can’t even swallow as the liquid your tears that endlessly fill your throat slides down into your stomach.

“I’m glad you offered to help the Equalists. You will be so useful.” His smirk returns, a cruel thing when not hidden by a mask. “I already feel better being able to bloodbend normally.”

He releases your mouth and you shut it closed, the ache in your jaw painfully acute.

“Please- please let me go, I won’t-” Is it better to report the man who is a bloodbender or to let him make all equal? “I won’t report you.”

“You won’t” The moon makes his smile glint. There’s something wrong in it.

“I won’t,” you try to nod but your neck is stuck in a permanent lock.

“You’re staying here with me pet. You’re too fun to let go of.”

--

so guess who got a little carried away? me. it was me. i’m guilty also now i love Amon. (Maybe it’s just his voice also oof... me writing only in clipped sentences oh you bet.) anyway thank you to the requester and thank you all for reading! I hope you enjoy!! also thank you to @animetrash420 for uhh beta reading my stuff,.... please ya’ll check her out she does haikyuu fluff and Free! fluff and its,,,, it’s so cute ya’ll

[i-need-entertainment]

Satori Tendou + “Can’t take my eyes off of you”

This is the 8th Oneshot for the Valentines Day 2021 Event thank you so much for requesting! I’ve never written for him before so i’m excited! This one also ended up reaaallly long h e h e

**For context f/c= Favorite color~n/n= Nickname**

Character: Tendou x reader

“Ugh. Satori I sWEAR if you’re lying-” He waved his hand in the air as a goofy smile came onto his face. “Now, N/n~” You deadpanned at the nickname he used. “When have I ever lied to you?” You held up a fist and raised a finger with ever point you brought up, “Hmm let’s see...1st grade you said it was Akemi who took my chocolate when it was you, Ooh! In 3rd grade you-” He rolled his eyes, “I meant seriously lied to you dummy~” You shook your head as you smiled, “Almost never..”

 Ignoring the ‘almost’ he stood up from your bed, sauntering over to where you stood in front of the mirror, dressed in the gorgeous f/c dress you had picked to wear for your last prom (seeing as you and Tendou were both 3rd years). “Satori....” His crimson eyes met yours in the mirror, “...Do you think Sugino is going to..you know...” Your worried e/c eyes looked back to yourself in the mirror, eyes raking over every inch of your appearance. 

Tendou forced a smile on his face, pushing the feelings of sadness deep, deep down so you wouldn’t see. “He will...if he doesn’t he’s a real idiot to not see how-” His eyes slightly widened as he stopped himself. You turned towards him, eyebrow raised in questioning “Not see...what?” He nervously laughed as he ran a hand through his red hair giving you a closed eye smile, less for effect and more to avoid having to look you in the eye. 

“To not see your sparkling personality of course!” His eyes reopened as you playfully slapped his shoulder, “Whatever...” You laughed, smiling as you looked at him. “Okay, not out you go! I need to finish getting ready and YOU need to get dressed!” He laughed and put his arms up in defence as you swatted him out of your dorm. He then returned back to his and Ushijima’s shared dorm where he got dressed. “Did you tell her?” 

Tendou looked up from where he sat tying his shiny dress shoes, Ushijima looking at him with a questioning gaze. Tendou sighed, he finished tying his shoes before he stood up, hands going into the pockets of his black dress pants. “...no. I couldn’t...” Ushijima hummed before he slipped on his suit jacket, preparing to exit the dorm room. “For what it’s worth,” He paused to look at Tendou, sympathy in his olive green eyes “I think it’d be worthwhile to tell her you have feelings for her.” 

Tendou looked down with a sad expression on his face. “I know but...she likes Sugino..there’s not really a point if she’s going to have to reject me..” Ushijima nodded, opening the door. He paused before he could exit, opening his mouth to say something. Tendou put his hand up shaking his head while he smiled at the ace. Ushijima just slightly nodded his head before fully exiting the room Tendou doing the same after a deep breath. 

You and Tendou had known each other since pre-school and had been best friends ever since. You had been through just about everything together, the highs, the lows, and everything in between. And when you had both gotten into Shiratorizawa (him for volleyball you for band ~you can choose the instrument~) your friendship had remained; except he had caught feelings for you. Feelings you were oblivious to. 

Ignoring the thoughts running through his head he caught up with Ushijima and the two headed to meet up with the rest of the volleyball team. On the way to the gym from Semi’s dorm (that had been the meeting place) the team stopped at your dorm to pick you up, since your ‘date’ claimed he wouldn’t be able to. Oh yes, Tomohito Sugino one of the school’s most popular heart throbs and Vice-captain of the soccer team. You had had a crush on him for just over 2 years now, constantly ranting and gushing to Tendou...who just so happened to have a crush on you. 

Just about 2 weeks ago Sugino had asked Y/n to prom as his ‘date’, you of course accepted. Tendou knocked on your door, the unique little tune he only used for you. About 23 seconds later you opened the door, you hair and make up were all done and you had your favorite handbag clutched in your hand. Tendou’s eyes widened as he felt the heat creep up his neck. He slightly chuckled to mask how flustered he was feeling as he stepped to the side. 

“You clean up nice.” He snapped his gaze towards your direction, his cheeks heating up at the compliment. “A-ah. *ahem* thank you...you look...” He motioned with his hand to you, usually pale cheeks tinted with a red hue. “Ridiculous? I kinda feel that way...” Tendou shook his head, “No..you look stunning.” You felt your face get hot at his words. Years ago, years being the end of middle school and the first year of high school you had realized you had fallen for your best friend. But you were so convinced that he didn’t love you back so you buried your feelings, eventually finding interest in Sugino...that didn’t mean those feelings were gone though. 

“Uhm- ohmygosh your hair!! It-it looks nice...” Tendou snapped out of his daze, “Oh! Yeah..well you recommended that I slick it back, so I did..” You two stood there in silence, neither one knowing what to do about the new and different atmosphere that hung between you. “Uh...are you guys done..? Cause we’ve kinda got a dance to get to...” You and Tendou sort circuited as you both turned to face the rest of the team, some were at least trying to hide their smirks while others felt nothing but pleasure seeing the middle blocker blush. 

The team made their way to the gym, laughing and goofing around as per usual. “Y/n!” You felt your heart rate increase as you slightly turned to see Sugino walking towards you, face neutral. “Hey, you ready to go in?” You turned towards him and smiled, smile wavering when he wore a different colored tie than the one you two had chosen. Deciding not to mention it you waved goodbye to the boys and went off with Sugino. 

Tendou sighed as he watched you walk off, turning back to the boys and plastering a smile on his face. “Well? What are we waiting for? We are at a dance after all~” ignoring the yearning feeling he felt in his heart he led the team away off to a table. 

*It is now 8, the dance has been going on for 2 hours and will go on for 3 more*

“Shirabu I swear I will kill you where you sit-” “And what would Kanna think of that? The she really wouldn’t want to dance with you.” “That’s it-” Reon nearly missed Semi’s collar as he pulled him away from the second year setter, sitting him back in his seat while Kawanishi snickered and Ushijima looked at the pair with disappointment. Tendou’s gaze remained on the table, his head propped up on the hand that his elbow was holding up while his other hand messed with the table decorations. 

His attention was stolen from the confetti splayed on the plastic tablecloth by the group of girls that was headed towards the table. “Um...Semi? Would you like to dance?” Kanna (the girl Semi just so happened to be crushing on) asked the 3rd year, who after some time to recover and a slap from Kawanishi came to his senses and agreed. It was then Tendou realized that these girls (who were all pairing up with a guy to dance with ;) were from Y/n’s friend group. 

Looking around Tendou noticed that you weren’t with them, which is strange since you had said earlier that you and Sugino would be with them all night...He got up and looked for your other bestie, Rei, who was talking with Reon. “Hey Rei..where’s Y/n and Sugino?” He noticed a shift in Rei’s expression, it was a mix of sympathy and straight up anger. She pointed to a table behind her. Tendou looked over her shoulder to see you, and only you, sitting by yourself at one of the tables. 

“Sugino ditched about 20 minutes into the dance...Last time I saw him he was busy shoving his tongue down another girls throat.” Reon rubbed comforting circles on her back as she took a deep breath trying to calm down. “Listen...I’m saying this as her friend and yours...go over there. And ask her to dance,” Tendou opened her mouth to speak but the brunette cut him off, “She will say yes, just ask. Use your Tendou Satori charm or something, I don’t know! Just ask!” 

After contemplating it for a moment and getting encouragement from his teammates Tendou gave himself one last pep talk before he walked over to the DJ, asking him a question. You sat alone at your seat, head rested in your palm as you watched the other couples dance. You sighed as you returned your gaze to the maroon colored table cloth, lightly picking at it with your manicured nails. *Ahem* You looked up at the person who had tried to get your attention, eyes slightly narrowing in curiosity when you saw it was Tendou. 

“Satori..? What are you doing here? I thought you were with the boys.” He shook his head as he held out his hand, slightly bowing while doing so. Regardless; you took his hand and allowed him to help you stand. When you stood he started to lead you to the dance floor. “How come you knew where to find me anyways?” His face turned to one of irritation. “When your friends came over to collect mine, Rei told me what ‘he’ did...So, I came to collect you.” 

Your eyes widened as his hand squeezed yours. You, too stunned and nervous to talk, let him lead you to the dance floor. Right as you entered the space the song Tendou had requested started playing, you immediately recognizing it. He brought you close to him, one arm wrapped around your waist and the other hand gently holding yours. 

As the song started to play, he began to sing along, dancing becoming more and more goofy, but all the more memorable and sweet. Your laughter rang through the air as he spun you, extending his arm as he flung you to the side, only to roll you back into his chest, swaying and spinning you as the song went on.

“Pardon the way that I stare, There's nothin' else to compare, The sight of you leaves me weak, There are no words left to speak, But if you feel like I feel, Please let me know that it's real, You're just too good to be true, Can't take my eyes off of you”

His eyes never left yours as he sung this to you, your heart rate steadily picking up its pace as he continued to twirl you around the floor. As the song slowed so did he, his movements less sporadic and more intentional, hi grip on you firm and reassuring, and his eyes showing only honesty and sincerity.

“I love you, baby“

He paused singing after that, red eyes looking- searching yours, hands never leaving you as he continued to dance. You didn’t know what to do...other than to continue dancing with the man of your dreams.

“Now that I've found you, stay And let me love you, baby Let me love you..”

He once again drifted off, bringing the hand he was holding to his lips to kiss it, Eyes closing briefly in bliss before he reopened them, showing determination and something else- “Y/n.” You gulped a bit before you weakly nodded. He smiled, his ever so charming, ever so him smile that never failed to make the blood rush to your face. He leaned in close to your ear, chuckling lightly before he spoke, “I meant what I said...or rather..sang.” 

As soon as he pulled away you looked at him searching his expression for any hint that he was joking...there was nothing there except love. Without giving it a second thought you pulled his hand towards you and hugged him tight, “...I love you too Satori...I love you so much!” He smiled as he pulled you against him even tighter, kissing the top of your head as he sighed in bliss. “So...” You laughed, “So...” He nuzzled into you as he continued to sway you both to the song. 

“Does this mean you’re my girlfriend now~” You shook your head, “You never asked.” He scoffed as he pulled away, “Fine then. Y/n L/n, love of my life, stars to my night, peaches to my cream~ Will you do me the oh so glorious honor of becoming my beloved?” You tried to stop your laughter as you nodded, returning your head to the crook of his neck as you smiled, “It would be my pleasure.”

“You're just too good to be true, Can't take my eyes off of you, You'd be like Heaven to touch, I wanna hold you so much, At long last, love has arrived And thank God I'm alive, You're just too good to be true, Can't take my eyes off you”

[aspiringauthorintraining]

The Shoe Thief

“Bo-chan, mind letting me go?”

“Why don’t you love meee?” he whined in your ear.

The Fukordani and Nekoma boys were taking a short break from having finished a practice match, and Kotaro Bokuto was currently holding you hostage in his arms. He clung to your back, preventing you from leaving the gym.

You looked to Akaashi for help, but he only gave you a look of pity in return. 

To the Fukurodani team, namely Akaashi, you were a godsend. 

You didn’t have any plans of joining a club in high school at first, not really having interest in any of the clubs offered at the academy. So for the first year, you focused solely on your studies. Not that you really needed to, already being in the top class for your grade. 

And it wasn’t until finals rolled around, that you met Bokuto. Or rather, Bokuto came looking for you. 

You had overheard conversations in passing of a boy on the volleyball team that was in the top five ranking for spikers under 19. But that was the extent of your knowledge of the said Fukurodani “Ace”. You weren’t in the same class as him, nor were you in the same social circles. With you occupied with studying and him with volleyball, it made sense that the two of you had never met before. 

But fate had other plans, it seemed. 

It was a requirement that all students in clubs needed to have a passing grade in all their subjects, in order to be able to participate in club activities. And you had found out, from Bokuto telling you himself, that he was on the brink of failing. Although, it made sense once you realized how much the boy was obsessed with volleyball. 

He had asked you one day if you could help him in some of his subjects, making a dramatic monologue about how everyone was counting on him, and how he would just be devastated if he weren’t able to participate in the Spring High Nationals for the first time. He had also brought back-up in case you had said no at first, in the form of the rest of the volleyball team. And you, not having the heart to say to no a pleading group of boys, especially the upperclassmen begging you on their knees with Bokuto, agreed to weekly tutor sessions in the gym after their practice.

What you thought would be a one-time deal, somehow ended up turning into study group sessions with the rest of the volleyball team. Apparently Bokuto had told his team how nice you were when tutoring him, that some of the other boys who were also struggling in their studies, stayed back after practice one day, to shyly ask you for help. 

Kaori and Yukie, seeing how well you handled the boys, especially Bokuto, had asked you to join the team; you having no choice but to say yes after Bokuto kept pestering you about it for a whole week. 

By the time you all became third-years, it was safe to say that you were Bokuto’s manager more than the Fukurodani’s volleyball club manager. Your main job was to handle Bokuto, to the joy of the coaches, managers, and the rest of the team. 

Therefore, when Bokuto got clingy with you, it meant that he wasn’t bothering Akaashi or going into emo-mode. Which was why Akaashi and the others could only give you a pitying look, but not do anything else. Better you than them.

“Bokuto, I need to go help prepare for dinner with the rest of the managers.”

“Whhhyyy?” 

His chin was perched on your left shoulder, his head moving around from all the whining he was doing.

“Because I’m a manager, duh.”

“But whyyyyy?”

Shaking your head, you struggled to pry his arms off of you- damn his volleyball muscles. Quickly realizing that you wouldn’t be able to break free with your strength, you were about to give up. But when he thought you were done trying, he loosened his hold on you just a bit. And as soon as he did, you ducked out of his embrace, making a run for it. Thankfully both your indoor and outdoor shoes today were slide sandals, making it easy for you to change shoes in record time. You didn’t dare look back, knowing time was of the essence, and Bokuto was quickly nearing you. 

“Sorry Bo-chan!”

“Hey hey hey!” you heard him whine as you dashed out the door.

__________________________

“Bokuto, where did you hide my shoes?”

“What makes you think I hid them?”

Bokuto continued feigning innocence, refusing to admit to being the shoe thief. 

Five minutes ago, you along with the other managers were heading outside to start preparing for dinner again. While all the other managers were changing into their shoes, you realized yours were missing. And when the other girls noticed you were looking around for them, Yachi mentioned that she saw a certain Fukurodani captain holding said shoes while laughing to himself during their break. 

So while you weren’t one to accuse anyone of anything without substantial evidence, Yachi’s witness testimony was more than enough for you to confront Bokuto about your missing shoes. 

“Bokuto, someone saw you holding my shoes before they went missing.”

“Who told you that?” His eyes went wide, realizing he had been caught in the act.

“My source will remain anonymous.” You were pretty sure that Yachi didn’t want to be brought into the mess. “And don’t try to change the subject! Bokuto, I need my shoes- I’m the only one not helping with dinner right now.”

Knowing there was no way of denying he was the perpetrator now, Bokuto then decided to avoid eye contact with you. 

You could only heave a sigh at the boy, who was pouting at the ground. 

“Bo-chan.” you called out to him.

“That’s not fair (Y/N).”

“Bo-chan~” you tried again, knowing he was weak against your nickname for him.

“Must resist.” he murmured to himself, now just closing his eyes.

You walked up to him, grabbing ahold of his cheeks in the palms of your hands, bringing his face down to your height. He flinched, opening his eyes in surprise at the sudden contact- not realizing you were so close to him. You couldn’t help but giggle at how he rubbed his face against your hands happily, his face melting into a content smile. 

People liked to say that Bokuto looked like an owl, but you always compared him to a puppy with the way he acted towards you.

“Bo-chan, I promise I will give you all my attention and as many hugs as you want once the training camp is over.”

“Really?!”

You nodded. “Yup. I’ll be stuck to you like velcro. And you’ll end up being sick of me and my hugs for a while.”

“That’ll never happen. I’ll always want your hugs!” He refuted, not even fathoming the idea of ever getting sick of you or your touch.

You smiled at his declaration, giving him a quick peck on his lips. He seemed to short-circuit at your kiss: blushing, stuttering, and smiling sheepishly, all at once. 

“But I really do have to go help, so could I please have my shoes back?” you asked, looking softly into his eyes.

Bokuto seemed to contemplate the choices given to him for a second, before answering. 

Don’t give back your shoes and hold you hostage in his arms now, or return your shoes back to you and get as many hugs he wants in the future. Deciding the latter was the better choice in the long run, he then happily led you over to the bleachers where they were hidden under.

“Here you go!” he brightly smiled, placing your shoes in your waiting hands. 

You shook your head with a laugh, amused at his puppy-like antics. You couldn’t even be mad at him if you tried.

“Thanks Bo-chan.” you said, throwing him a wink before heading outside. 

________________________

Bonus:

You watched Bokuto worriedly with an unconscious frown from the sideline. 

He was blocked for the fifth time in a row, preventing him from successfully slamming down one of his famous spikes.

Everyone on the team could see the frustration manifest on his face, which was understandable. It was stressful for a wing spiker to not be able to do what their position entailed. 

Akaashi signaled to the coach for a timeout, the usual drill for the team when Bokuto started showing symptoms of his emo-phase. And following the sound of the whistle blown would normally be the Fukurodani captain dramatically ordering his setter to not pass to him anymore. But instead of sulking like always, Bokuto stopped right in front of you with expectant eyes. 

Keeping good on your promise to him, without hesitation you opened your arms, allowing him to wrap his arms around you. You let him keep hugging you, as the team talked strategies about how to get through the blockers. 

“Akaashi…” you heard him mumble quietly from your shoulder.

“Hai, Bokuto-san.” The vice captain replied.

“One more time.” Akaashi’s eyes widened slightly, surprised by the captain’s words. “Toss me the ball one more time. I’ll break through.” 

Raising his head up from your shoulder, Bokuto’s eyes showed determination in them. Unlike the usual pout on his face, in its place was a confident grin.

“Hai.” Akaashi nodded, then quickly explained the plan to the rest of the team.

The referee blew the whistle again, signaling the end of Fukurodani’s time out.

“I got this.” Bokuto assured you, reluctantly stepping out of your hug.

“I never had any doubt that you did Bo-chan.” you replied, smiling at his reappeared confidence. “Go show them what it means to be a top five spiker.”

_____

(A/N): Aaahhh, I hope you liked it! I didn’t know Bokuto day was 2 days ago. So I know it’s late celebrating, but better late than never! Safe readings!

[kozumekenza]

on my mind :: two

:: suna rintarou x f!reader :: playlist :: masterlist ::

:: taglist: open :: wc: 1.5k ::

After a drunken one-night stand with your ex, you thought you could get him out of your life for good. Unfortunately, the two of you can’t seem to keep away from each other. Why can’t you leave each other alone? And more importantly, why is he still on your mind?

tw: mentions of alcohol, hangovers, profanity, talk of sex, one-night stands

After a lot of deliberation and even more wine with Yachi, you both came to the conclusion that ignoring Suna and the one-night stand would be the best course of action. You were also hesitant to give back the National Team jersey you had taken, fearing that it would draw attention to what had conspired between you two.

Instead, you adopted the expensive jersey into your wardrobe. 

So now you sat, head thrown back over the edge of your couch, fifth glass of wine in one hand and a slice of pizza in the other, bright red jersey with a large 12 and Suna’s name emblazoned on the back haphazardly thrown over your body. It was a comfortable jersey, plus, it was laundry day. You would wash it before (if) you ever gave it back. 

Yachi stole the wine glass out of your hand before you could drain the rest of it. 

“What the fuuuuck, ‘Toka? I was almost finished!” 

Yachi just looked at you with a blank expression. “Y/n, you need to go to bed before you show up to your first day of work hungover. You’ll thank me in the morning. C’mon,” she grabbed your hands to pull you up, dragging you along all the way to your bedroom. 

You cuddled into the sheets, trying to ignore the smell of Suna’s cologne on the jersey and failing miserably. Yachi brought you a glass of water and painkillers, then turned off the lights and bid you goodnight. 

At least you knew why Suna was in Tokyo now. It made sense that he would make the National Team, and it was a major oversight on your part for accepting a job as a trainer for said team. However, there was nothing you could do now. You would just have to wait and see how it all played out. 

You tossed and turned before finally surrendering to the comfort of the jersey’s scent. It was easier to fall asleep when you could pretend someone was next to you, anyway. When you ultimately dozed off, it was to memories of your ex-boyfriend’s calming hugs and bright smile.

---

When you arrived at the National Team Training Center the next morning, you were anxiously waiting for Suna to corner you about Saturday night’s events. Instead, you were able to walk all the way down to your new office across from the locker rooms without seeing anyone else. You set down your purse and backpack in your new office, smiling at the Assistant Athletic Trainer plaque outside your door. Popping back out into the hallway, you dropped a coffee off with your boss, Iwaizumi Hajime, whose office was adjacent to your own. 

Practice didn’t start for another hour, giving you plenty of time to calm your nerves about seeing Suna. You booted up your laptop and began preparing the players’ training regimens. After about thirty minutes, Atsumu strolled into your office. 

“Hey, y/n!”

“‘Tsumu!” He wrapped you in a big hug, lifting you off the ground and causing you to giggle.

“How’ve you been?” He set you back down and sat on the edge of your desk.

“Good! Lots of prepping for this new job, making sure all of your workouts are in order.” You gave Atsumu a light punch in the arm. You had missed joking around with him. Before you moved away from Hyogo, he was one of your best friends.

“Well, I hope it goes well. Hey, speaking of which, my shoulder has been kinda sore lately, think you could massage it for me?”

You just rolled your eyes and nodded. Of course, Atsumu would use your new position to his advantage. You could already tell that these next few weeks would be full of Atsumu begging for back massages when he didn’t really need them. On the bright side, at least if he was trying to scavenge a massage from you, Suna probably didn’t mention anything to him.

“Let’s go out to the court, practice is about to start. I’ll do it out there so that we aren’t late.”

Atsumu nodded, so you grabbed your backpack with your medical supplies and followed his lead to the court. You dropped your stuff at the bench and motioned for him to sit down. As you worked on his shoulder (his muscles were kind of tight after all), he talked about the temporary move to Tokyo and preparations for the upcoming Olympics. It was only April, but the competition would be here before anyone knew it. At least the team had the benefit of being at home for the duration of the Olympics. You couldn’t imagine having to adjust to a new timezone before competing at an international level. 

As you two talked, more players began to filter in. Iwaizumi came out to check on you, scolding Atsumu for taking advantage of your trainer status, to which you just laughed. 

“It’s fine, I promise. If I really minded, I would’ve told him to leave.”

“Alright, if you say so,” Iwaizumi looked at his watch, “Shit, I gotta go. It’ll probably be just you out here for most of the morning, y/n. I have a ton of meetings and work to catch up on, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay! I can handle it, don’t worry.” You smiled, trying to conceal the large amount of fear you still held for interacting with a certain middle blocker. Iwaizumi gave you a grin before turning and walking back towards his office. 

Atsumu smirked at you, “He totally thinks you’re hot.”

You punched Atsumu in the shoulder, hard. “Shut the fuck up! And he does not, he’s gay, and he’s fucking married!” 

“Hm, what a bummer. You’re too tense, you need to get laid.”

Your eyes widened as you slapped a hand over his mouth. “Atsumu!”

“Hey Atsumu, y/n, long time no see.”

Your heart dropped as you turned towards the unmistakable voice, one hand still on Atsumu’s mouth. 

“Sunarin! What’s up?” Atsumu shrugged your hand off as he stood and gave Suna a half-hug. You stood to the side, slowly inching towards your backpack as a means of escape. If Suna turned his attention to you, you could just busy yourself with whatever you had in there. 

“Fuck, y/n, it’s been forever since I last saw you.” You looked up at Suna, schooling your expression into something resembling calm, cool, and collected and ignoring the pounding of your heart. 

You gave a half-hearted laugh, “Yeah.” Suna flashed you one of his signature grins, and you nearly choked on air. Why was he so attractive?

“You’re still as beautiful as ever.” Fuck. “So this is what you’re up to nowadays?”

“Yep!” You allowed a little grin to slip through. “Living the dream as an assistant athletic trainer!”

“That’s awesome. I always knew you would do something great.” Oh my God. “Well, it looks like practice is about to start. We should go out sometime, catch up! It’s been years since we’ve talked.”

You nodded and watched as he jogged over to where some other players were stretching, then turned and buried your face in your hands. What the fuck. He didn’t remember Saturday. That was good. Now you just had to play it cool around him, and everything would be fine.

You felt an arm settle itself on your shoulder. “He totally thinks you’re hot.”

“Atsumu, I’m going to fucking kill you.”

The man in question quickly removed his arm from your shoulder, giving you a questioning look. “The fuck is your problem with him? I know you two still have whatever from high school that’s unresolved, but you look like you want to die on the spot right now.”

“If I tell you, you have to swear you won’t tell anyone. Not a soul.” You could already tell you were going to regret this.

Atsumu brought his hand up with a cheesy grin on his face. “I solemnly swear. Now tell me.”

You sighed and internally cringed. You couldn’t believe you were about to tell Atsumu this. “On Saturday night, I got drunk and woke up in Suna’s bed,” you watched as Atsumu’s jaw dropped, “And he doesn’t remember anything, thank God.”

“Holy fucking shit, y/n!”

“Keep your fucking voice down!”

“Wait, wait, wait, it gets better,” you winced as you prepared yourself for whatever bad news Atsumu was about to bring, “He called me Sunday morning, talking about a ripped skirt and a bra some chick left, and that she stole his National Team jersey. You’re telling me that was you?”

Grimacing, you nodded.

“Damn, y/n. You’re screwed.”

You nodded again.

---

After a morning of tough practice, you were finally enjoying some peace and quiet at your desk. You ate the bento Yachi packed for you (she was a literal angel) and tried to avoid thinking about how hot Suna looked while practicing today. You couldn’t stop staring at him; every time you looked away, you somehow found yourself looking in his direction again.

Your buzzing phone pulled you out of your thoughts.

Osamu’s laughing voice filled the tiny speaker. 

“Y/n! You slept with Sunarin! And he doesn’t even remember!”

You were going to murder Miya Atsumu. 

taglist: @sunasexual​ @call-me-lulu​