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hongism · 4 years ago

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mists of celeste ➻ 37

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, smut ➻ word count: 16.9k(? i think?) ➻ rating: M ➻ warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, future warnings tba chapter specific warnings: talks of torture, talks of past self-harm, nothing directly graphic all mentioned through conversation, graphic depiction of a panic attack ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

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✧✧✧ act five ➻ part four

“I’m going to kill the king, Hyunwoo.”

“Y/N, you can’t… that’s going too far.”

“I don’t think we have a choice any longer.”

“We always have a choice, Y/N. It’s just about what you decide to do with that choice that matters. Think about why you’re doing what you’re doing, and what your intentions truly are. It’s not about revenge or payment for a crime — the crimes of his people cannot be put onto his shoulders.”

A sigh passes through your lips, one that sounds more exasperated than anything else, and Hyunwoo lifts a brow upon hearing the noise.

“This is revenge, Hyunwoo. He allowed my past to be taken, he created the law that allows the military to do that. Not to mention the other crimes he has committed — even if they are a result of him sitting idly by and watching them happen. I’m not saying Jisung is always right or that he is a saint for wanting to do this. But if Jisung won’t commit to doing it, then I’ll do it for him.”

“And we swore to find a way to get those memories back, Y/N. Don’t let this cloud your judgment. Don’t let your devotion to making Jisung happy decide your future. If this is something he wants, then he should do it himself and face the consequences on his own! It’s not a burden that you should bear as well. I know this is something you will come to regret!”

“Then you’ll have to stop me with force because I’ve already made my mind up about this. I don’t see Jisung getting in my way right now. But after all, isn’t this what he wants? He’s just too much of a coward to do the dirty work himself!”

“We both know where he stands on this, which is precisely why he’s not here. Just — please let us try one more time. I’ve spoken with a few of my off-planet contacts about this, and we have one last idea that might reverse the effects of the serum. You know how difficult this is; the military keeps such a tight wrap on everything about the serum. It’s near impossible to just get a spare vial, and even harder to examine how it works with test subjects while still being ethical. We are trying our best, I promise, just please hold out a little while longer. Jisung is getting things set up now… so please… just come with me and try before you do anything drastic.”

The man extends a hand, palm facing towards the ceiling and fingers outstretched for you to take. There’s hope in his eyes, a hope you haven’t seen from him in a long time, and that look is what brings your feet forward. You place your palm over his and curl your fingers tight around the side of his hand. He squeezes back as a small grin overtakes his lips.

“If this doesn’t work, then you know what I have to do, Hyunwoo.”

“I know,” he whispers. The hope in his eyes flickers a little, like a flame hit by a gust of wind. “In that case, I’ll do whatever I have to so that you don’t come to regret that decision.”

“Hey, get up. It’s go time.”

You wake with a start, not fully come out of the memory that paints the insides of your eyelids until you look around at your surroundings. Yeosang seems to be the one who woke you seeing as his hand is still outstretched to your arm. The sight of him brings you back to reality and reminds you of where you are and what exactly is going on. Jongho sits on your other side, dressed in nicer clothes than you’ve ever seen him wear before — a pleated and pristine navy suit complete with a bright yellow tie and hair gelled back on his head. Yeosang too wears a somewhat expensive garb although he appears more natural in the silk tunic covering his torso. His naturally dark roots are starting to peek through the blond near his scalp, accentuating the harsh part down the middle of his head.

Despite the fact that both look relatively harmless in this state, you know they each have weapons hidden somewhere on their person underneath that formal wear, just as you do with the knives strapped over your thighs under the skirt attached to your waist. Such an outfit like yours is something you hardly agreed to — it was moreso an insistence on Seonghwa’s part to at least dress the part (although he had to listen to some of your incessant nagging about how you could never fight in a dress so he had to settle on finding a substitute in the form of a jumpsuit with a skirt wrapped around the back. Yet the more you pick at the seams and touch the fabric, the more you recall the none too pleasant conversation you and Seonghwa shared as you were preparing to leave for the mission.

“Perhaps I do have an eye for beauty after all, or is it that you simply look breathtaking in anything?” Seonghwa stands in the doorway to your bedroom, not a mind for privacy as he watches you struggle to tug the zipper of your suit up.

“Can’t even breathe on my own, huh?” You huff out as you drop the zipper in defeat.

“I’ve already seen every inch of you, have I not? There’s nothing to hide that I haven’t seen before,” Seonghwa says through a laugh. He watches your cheeks flush with color before dropping his arms to his side and coming closer to you. He remains wordless as he pulls your zipper up for you, smoothing the fabric under his fingers down once it’s pulled up to your neck. “It suits you. Things like this, I mean. The silk makes you look… softer, yet the color combination of black and white makes you look lethal. Perfect definition of beauty, no? That something so delicate could also kill you? A wonderful dichotomy in my eyes.”

“Someone is in a poetic mood today.” You don’t hide the way your eyes roll to the back of your head, but Seonghwa doesn’t seem all too bothered by your show of faux-annoyance. Instead, his hands find your hips and turn you to face him directly, staring so intently into your eyes with his own dark ones that you lose the rest of your retort.

“I’m sorry. I wanted to go on this mission so desperately but that didn’t quite work out.” You’re quick to shake your head, already in the midst of denying his words before he even finishes his sentence.

“It’s alright. I’ll have Yeosang and Jongho there with me.”

“I would go if only Hongjoong would let me bu—” The thought cuts short as you place a hand over his forearm.

“Seonghwa, it’s okay. Hongjoong is right to have you stay here while you’re not 100% better. And you can both keep an eye on Jisung this way. We’ll bring Wooyoung back as quickly as possible, I swear.” Instead of consoling the man, your words seem to have an opposite effect as he drops his gaze to the floor.

“If I were stronger, this wouldn’t even be an issue. You should not have had to waste so much time having to look after my fragile and weak mental state when you could have caught up to the ship sooner and had all three of them back in one go.”

“This is what we’re working with, Hwa. It has nothing to do with your welfare. We still would have been too late regardless of whether that night had happened or not. So please — it will all work out and be okay. It has to.”

Seonghwa’s smile is quaint, a small twitch of his lips, then he’s leaning in to close the distance between your lips. You lift your hand to push hard against his chest, furthering that distance before he gets the chance to meet your lips with his.

“I just put on this black lipstick and you already want to mess it up? How rude,” you scoff. That isn’t a real reason, and you both know it, and you only solidify that further when you speak next before biting your tongue. “You shouldn’t push it right now. I still haven’t forgiven you for not fighting my decision to go with Jisung. Besides wasn’t the decision to… stop whatever this is mutual?”

“It was, of course,” he murmurs back, not quite meeting your eyes. “I am merely a creature of habit, so it will take some time for me to adjust to this change. But… Y/N, might I be so bold as to ask you something?”

“Hm, isn’t that a question right there?”

“I’ll take that as a yes then?” You regard him with a small nod but pull away so that his hands drop to his sides again. “Were any of the feelings you had for me something real and tangible? Not just because of what we are and that comfort of both being Sirens, I mean.”

You should have known he would bring this up eventually, especially with how the two of you are constantly dancing around each other and the topic. Still, you aren’t ready for it.

“I… don’t think I know the answer to that question, but even if I did, I-I might not be able to answer with complete honesty.” The smile that comes to paint Seonghwa’s lips is nothing short of sad and painful, not quite reaching his bright eyes with its usual mirth.

“It’s a conversation I wish for us to have one day, but I too fear that I might not be able to be completely honest either. Perhaps — perhaps we got a little too caught up in the heat of things without truly thinking about why we were doing the things we were doing.”

“Why did you do it then? I was the one who gave the initial push, I started things, I claim responsibility for that, but you pulled right back. So why?”

“I have found time to think about such things quite a bit lately since I was left in the medbay alone for so long; however, now is not the time to talk about that as it would take too long. Has Wooyoung brought you back yet?”

“No, not since the night in the medbay. But San very clearly said three days until they would land on Dorado, and it’s been six since then. They should be there by now, and the deals should have gone through. Wooyoung’s was to be immediate after all.” Seonghwa’s smile drops into a half-hearted scowl.

“Without Wooyoung on the inside, we will have no way of knowing where San and Mingi are.”

“Unless Jisung decides to be kind with his information.” You run a hand through your hair, mussing the already down tresses enough to be somewhat noticeable. “We’ll have to make do.” Seonghwa stretches across the empty space between you

“I won’t keep you any longer then. Tell the others good luck from me, and please… be careful? No unnecessary risks if you can avoid them. I’d like to see you all back in one piece.”

Reality swoops in on you as Jongho places a firm hand over your thigh.

“You alright? I can practically feel you thinking so hard.”

“Yes, yes, of course. Just… wondering about the mission.”

“It’ll be okay,” Jongho murmurs, squeezing at your leg a little tighter. “It’s a straightforward mission — easy in and out.”

“Hopefully.” Yeosang is the one to hum the word but he doesn’t look at either of you as he speaks. “Once we’re in, I’ll talk to the main desk and ask for someone with Wooyoung’s general appearance. It’ll be a bit difficult because they will have given a new name — something a prostitute would have. I’m not sure how many people in there will have similar appearances to Wooyoung but we’ll have to do our best. You two remember what you’re supposed to do?”

“Yes,” you nod. “Follow suit, wait fifteen minutes for you to pass through the reception area, then ask the same thing. A male short in stature with black hair and tanned skin. All prostitutes have collar so it won’t be Wooyoung’s defining feature any longer.” The recitation rolls off your tongue with ease after having heard Yeosang repeat it so many times by now. He nods in approval nonetheless.

“Remember there are cameras in each of the rooms. Don’t know how they use them but it’s something to be aware of. Hopefully, one of us will be able to come across Wooyoung, and in the case that you do?”

“We are to stay in the room with him for the allotted time, ping back to the ship and let Hongjoong know we have him, then wait for his signal,” Jongho responds. “His contact here on Dorado will be hacking their surveillance systems once we are certain that we have Wooyoung in a safe position.”

“Hongjoong sure seems to have a lot of contacts for someone who doesn’t trust people,” you murmur more to yourself than to anyone else, but Yeosang picks up on it nonetheless.

“His contacts are few and far between. This is one he has known since before he became a captain, so he holds a bit more trust with him. Back to the plan though, after his contact confirms our safety, you’ll crack a window and hop out hopefully unscathed. Remember that the Upper Echelon of Dorado is tight on security. Whoever gets Wooyoung out will have to be mindful of guards and try not to look suspicious. If any guards stop you, do not engage with violence. Simply do as they ask you to and tell them that Wooyoung is your slave. And one last thing: don’t forget we’ll be going in silent so keep a close eye on your wristbands. Understood?”

“Clear as day,” Jongho says while you offer only a hasty nod.

“Good, stay sharp then. We’ll be landing soon, and it’ll be go time immediately after that.” With that, Yeosang sits back and shuts his eyes, leaving you and Jongho to stew over the plan again in silence. At least until you decide you can’t take it anymore and turn to talk to the Berserker again.

“Are you nervous at all about the mission?”

A shrug.

“No more than usual. Recovering Wooyoung won’t be easy by any means, of course. It’s a step in the right direction, right? How are you feeling?” As though sensing your nerves, he pats your thigh a few times, and you simply stare down at the dirty floor beneath your feet.

“I feel a bit guilty in a way because I’m not too worried about the mission,” you admit, albeit quietly because you aren’t sure how please Yeosang would be to hear the words. “The only thing that is on my mind right now is how San is doing and if he’s okay.” Although you told Seonghwa otherwise, the sudden radio silence that Wooyoung has given you has made you anxious to an unspeakable degree. And not having the security of being able to see San through Wooyoung’s eyes is plaguing you more than you’d like to admit.

“I understand that,” Jongho says through a deep exhale. “I feel the same way about Mingi right now honestly. No matter how much faith and trust I have in Mingi, that fear always lingers and resides in me.”

“That’s how I feel about San. I shouldn’t be worried about him but part of me is just fearful that we won’t make it in time. That he’ll accept the serum before we can get him out.”

Jongho brings his hand up to take hold of one of yours, squeezing around your palm as tight as he can without hurting you.

“I know San better than I know anyone on the crew, besides Mingi perhaps. I’ve spent years at San’s side. He was the only person who trusted me at first and trusted me enough to let me in. That trauma he bears, the scars on his past, the red in his ledger, those lingering pains that resurfaced when the mutiny happened — I have felt them all. I spent months at the foot of his bed, taking what pain I could away for as long as I could, just existing to comfort him and help him get through even one more night. And in that myriad of emotions I felt from San, not once did I ever feel him desire to take it all away. Those scars he bears are part of him, and he treats them as such. Something like… small accessories on a bigger picture that he won’t let go of. So no matter what happens, I have confidence that San won’t let them win. He’s far too stubborn for that, his heart is too big, he has too much love in his body for such a thing. He would rather die before he forgets the crew, and that fact alone makes me confident that San will hold out.”

You are left in the wake of Jongho’s words for too long, letting them crawl under your skin and find a home there. You count the seconds that pass before your voice finds you again.

“I understand that.” Forty-one seconds. “It’s just the fear of him being hurt when I’m not around to stop it that is hard to get past.” Jongho’s smile is nothing if not soft and gentle, the epitome of understanding.

“In our line of work, that fear is always present. It’s always a possibility too, but at some point, you reach a point where you accept that sometimes, you won’t always be able to save someone from all pain. Just because you can’t prevent every ounce of pain doesn’t mean that you are doing something wrong or that you’re not doing enough.” Jongho pauses. Some emotion fills his red eyes and leaves them swimming with something unspoken. “There are some pains that we must allow to happen, no matter how much we wish to do the opposite. Even something as horrid as pain can be necessary and needed to move forward in life. Try not to dwell on it too much and focus on Wooyoung for now, yeah?”

“I’m trying my best,” you sigh and drop your head back against the seat. The second your thoughts begin to drift, you are brought back to another memory, this time one of Hongjoong’s dark office with Seonghwa at your side.

“You punched Jisung in the face?”

“Please, I let him off easy,” you huff back, ignoring the lieutenant’s slight shock in favor of finding interest in the wall.

“That’s not the important part,” Hongjoong cuts in from where he sits behind his desk. You shift to glance over the captain. “Does Jisung know anything about you being a Siren?”

“No, not that I recall,” you mutter after little thought. “I never slept with him or anything like that, and I can’t remember him ever seeing my back so it’s safe to assume he doesn’t know. Besides who would just see tattoos and immediately assume ‘Siren’?”

“Then his interest in you has nothing to do with you being a Siren?”

“Exactly, but why is that important? I can tell you why he wants me if that’s what you’re curious about.”

“We’re just eliminating suspicions right now.” Hongjoong shifts his focus to where Seonghwa stands. He wears a bit of a cocky grin as they stare at each other, both feet slung up on the edge of his desk and one brow raised. “See? Jin has nothing to do with this.”

“That doesn’t eliminate the possibility altogether!” Seonghwa retorts. A frown mars his otherwise pretty features, twisting his lips into a scowl so deep that you feel your own muscles ache at the sight of it.

“You live your life in fear of Seokjin. For what? Do you not trust me to keep you safe?”

“That isn’t it and you know it, Joong. I will not sabotage your plans simply because of what I am. That is why we keep my identity to be a closely-guarded secret yet our number one enemy knows of that identity. That is a weakness, and it’s one that you need to take seriously.”

“Why is that? Sheltering you would be more suspicious to the crew than anything else. Unless you would like to inform them of your identity? Allow me to call them all right this instant.”

“No! No, Hongjoong, I — fine. Have it your way. Keep believing that you’ll be able to fix where Jin went wrong by ignoring the issue altogether because th—”

“That’s enough.” You bristle at the tone of the captain’s voice even though he is not speaking directly to you. “I’m still on edge as well, Hwa, and I know you are as well. I know why you are too, but please have at least a little faith in me. Now, Y/N—” Hongjoong turns back to you now “—I’d like to ask about the nightmares you had that night.”

Your initial response is to inhale sharply and glance over at Seonghwa with panic boiling in your gut.

“Why do you want to know?”

All Hongjoong does is roll his eyes and drop his feet off the side of his desk. You purse your lips at the action, watching him with wary eyes as he shifts his position to prop his elbows up on the same wood.

“Seonghwa, you’re dismissed.”

“I — Captain?”

“Dismissed, Lieutenant. I need to speak with her in private.”

“Why is it something I cannot be present for?”

“That was an order, not a suggestion. Now go.” If possible, the temperature of the room would drop ten degrees. Seonghwa seems to want to retort further but he bites his lip instead. Then, he gives a quick bow at the waist and mutters a goodbye before slipping out of the office without any further issue. “What did your nightmares consist of?” Hongjoong repeats, arching a brow as he speaks this time as though it will get you to talk faster.

“You didn’t have to get me alone to ask me that, did you? What is this really about?” The questions flow without hesitation, and your second refusal to talk about the dreams draws a sigh from Hongjoong’s lips.

“Do you know anything of Seonghwa’s relationship with his mother, Y/N?” A beat of silence. You shift your weight from foot to foot, glancing away from the captain to find interest in something on the floor.

“I… did witness a few of his memories when the two of us were still with each other in the dreams, but — if you mean to ask me about his nightmares, I have nothing to offer. I didn’t see those at all.”

“No, he already told me all about those nightmares. I don’t need to know more of them,” Hongjoong exhales with a shake of his head. He draws his arms up over his chest as he talks, falling back to slump in his chair and letting his exhaustion shine through. “Initially, I was going to have Seonghwa go with Yeosang and Jongho on this mission. But now, that plan has changed and I will be sending you instead.”

“Why?”

“I can’t send Seonghwa down to Lynder unless I myself can be at his side the entire time. There is far too much of a risk if I am unable to do that.”

“Risk? Of what? He would be with Yeosang and Jongho, would he not?”

“Yet if even the barest whim overcomes him, they would have to listen to whatever he says because of his position as lieutenant. I am the only one with more power than him, and as such, he has to listen to me. If he goes to Lynder, the risk is of him abandoning the mission to seek out his mother.”

“That doesn’t sound like something he would do at all,” you counter. Both you and Hongjoong drop your chins at the same time, although yours is more of an accusatory and pointed action compared to the slumping defeat that comes over Hongjoong’s body when he lowers his head.

“I don’t know how much or what exactly you saw in Seonghwa’s memories. I do not need to know either. But something you need to know is that we have been back to Lynder exactly once since I met Seonghwa there. And that one single time, two years ago, we had to lock Seonghwa in the brig for six days straight to keep him from breaking out to kill his mother. Seonghwa tore cuts into his arms and shoulders so deep that Yunho had to come stitch him every night until we finally chained him to a wall to get him to stop. When he finally gave up on trying to break out, I went in and took the cuffs off, only for Seonghwa to choke me hard enough to fracture my neck and leave bruises that lasted for several weeks.”

“A-Ah…” The sound of your dry swallow echoes in your ears. It’s hard to imagine Seonghwa — cool, rigid, stoic, gentle and calm Seonghwa — ever being so depraved and rabid as to harm himself as well as Hongjoong. Seonghwa, whose greatest fear is losing his captain. Yet the grave expression coating Hongjoong’s delicate features remains serious and deadpan, and you know every word is one that holds a memory that is painful to recall. He’s telling the truth.

“Have you ever had that voice in your head telling you to be cruel, Y/N?”

“Of course I have,” you admit through a whisper, like the words are going to break the threads of tension hanging in the air.

“Seonghwa has lost his will and his mind to that voice time and time again, and it gave him his reputation as the Lieutenant of Death. Mingi may be a slave to a childhood which bred him to be a monster, but Seonghwa? He’s a slave to his own consciousness, the part of him that spent years trying to be perceived as an Elitist so that he could hide what he really is, someone cold and calculated without an ounce of remorse or emotion. He put his own monsters under the bed, but now he can’t get them out.”

Hongjoong sits up a bit straighter all of a sudden. His gaze is still unfocused and hazy though, refusing to look you straight in the eye. Either subconsciously or through the fog of that revisited memory, Hongjoong lifts a hand to his neck and rubs idly at the skin there.

“My Seon—Lieutenant is strong, but strength isn’t worth a damn thing when the person you’re fighting is yourself. He admitted to me once that the thought of letting that voice win is more terrifying than the act of killing his own mother. So for that reason, I can never allow such a thing to happen. Seonghwa’s demons are nothing if not rabid dogs begging for a pound of flesh, and if he can’t fight them on his own, I’ll do it for him.”

“Y/N, are you sure you’re alright?” Jongho yet again brings you back to reality, most likely a bit disturbed by the way you are squeezing his hand tight enough to hurt, but he takes it without complaint. “You keep drifting out of focus.”

“Yes,” you say, filling your chest with air when you remember to breathe properly again. “Everything is fine.” Rather than responding with words, Jongho just places his other hand over your joined ones and brings them to rest on his thigh. If you listen closely enough, you’re able to hear him humming a soft melody under his breath but the rumble of the transport car covers most of the sound up. Still, it’s a relaxing sound that brings you some much-needed peace of mind for the remainder of the ride.

And as it turns out, Yeosang wasn’t bluffing when he said the three of you would be there soon because you had barely started listening to Jongho’s soft song when the car comes to a screeching halt that leaves you lurching forward.

“Alright then.” Yeosang stands first, hands smoothing down the fabric of his tunic even though it’s still perfectly in place. It’s not against his nature to get nervous or anxious, but it is still odd to witness like this. He is usually stoic in an unsettling way yet the grim expression he now wears is only accentuated by the crude shadows cast over his face. “It’s go time. Let’s get Wooyoung back in one piece, yeah?”

With that, the three of you climb out of the vehicle to be greeted by a dark and pristine city with thick clouds of smoke billowing through the air below you. Looking over the lip of the road is like looking down a cliff with the dramatic fall to the lower portion of the city. You weren’t exactly prepared to see such a drastic difference between the upper and lower echelons, yet looking over that cliff is like looking into a different city altogether with wooden buildings and decrepit warehouses that can barely hold themselves together. Where you stand with Yeosang and Jongho feels like a different world altogether with roads lined with lights and technology, tall buildings made from wood with exquisite carvings detailing the sides. From what you saw of the city in Seonghwa’s memories, Lynder has not changed one bit since he was here last.

You can’t clearly see many of the buildings below your feet, but it doesn’t stop you from wondering which one could possibly be that bar where Seonghwa met Hongjoong, if it even still exists. Jongho pulls you away from the road by the arm, tugging you along behind him as you approach a new building. The swaying wooden panel outside the door is a dead giveaway, but it’s the absurd amount of lilies trailing over the railings that tells you what this place is.

“They weren’t bluffing with the House of Lilies name,” you mutter, wrinkling your nose a bit at the overwhelming stench. Yeosang has grown alarmingly still; he lingers outside the tall double doors with a hand hovering over the brass handles without budging even an inch for far too long. You could pretend to not know why he’s hesitating, you could act like he is merely holding you back and push past him in annoyance, yet instead, you find yourself laying a hand atop his shoulder and squeezing the fabric there lightly. “No matter what happens in there or what we find in there, we will bring Wooyoung out alive.”

Yeosang releases a shaky exhale that makes his shoulder quake under your fingers.

“I know we will.” He looks past your face to make eye contact with Jongho then gives a curt nod. “Here goes the first fifteen minutes of hell.” The Elitist pushes hard against the brass handles, and the door gives way to his effort.

If you thought the smell outside the House was horrid, you don’t even know how to describe the reeking stench of flowers that hits you with the force of a tsunami. It’s thick enough for you to feel as though you are wading through a sea of flowers when in reality it’s just a strange yellow haze hanging about the interior. Yeosang doesn’t let the smell affect him in the slightest; he walks inside without missing a beat, shoulders pushed back so far it nearly hurts to see. Despite that, he walks like a prince, like someone who knows how to act in high society with ease, and for the first time, you don’t see Kang Yeosang before you. Instead, it’s Kang Minhee, the forgotten prince of Aera, who walks before you and heads for the front desk where a middle-aged woman with dramatic hair and hefty makeup stands.

“We should mingle a bit and look natural,” Jongho whispers when the two of you stop just inside the doors. “May I?” He motions to your arm with a small smile, not saying anything else and leaving you confused.

“May you…?”

“Quit being dense and give me your arm,” he huffs back and extends his elbow for you to loop your arm through, and this time, you get the hint, hooking your hand around the inside of his arm. Yeosang shifts to look back at both of you as you pass, and you offer each other discreet nods before he returns to speaking to the receptionist.

You let Jongho lead the way for the most part since you aren’t sure what you’re supposed to be doing outside of “looking normal”, although even doing that is somewhat difficult. Jongho doesn’t stray far from the entrance area until Yeosang dips into a hallway and out of sight without looking back at the two of you. Moments later your wristbands buzz, signaling that it’s time for the first fifteen-minute countdown to begin. Jongho shifts to fiddle with his wristband while you keep your hand folded over his elbow still. It gives you a chance to glance around the whorehouse without the distraction of having to act normal, but frankly, there isn’t much to see beyond the bodies filling the foyer and mingling about the lounge before you. There are flowers everywhere — probably an overabundance of them, and they aren’t just lilies as they were outside. You can’t pinpoint whether those flowers are the source of the clawingly sweet scent stuck to the insides of your nostrils or not, but that yellow fog seems partially responsible to some degree.

“You seem to know how to look like you belong in high society,” you mutter once Jongho pulls his attention back to your surroundings. A huff of laughter leaves his lips.

“It’s not because I grew up that way. I was merely an observant child who wanted to grow up and have more than what I had.” A smile cracks his stony expression. “Isn’t that what all children want?”

“I—”

Well, you wouldn’t really know, would you?

Jongho’s expression softens as he realizes what he’s said and who he has said it to, and his gaze turns apologetic seconds later. He turns to flag down one of the workers milling about with drinks, taking two glasses of what looks like wine in one hand. Jongho angles one of the half-full flutes in your direction. You take the hint with relative ease despite the clawing scent of flowers still muddling your thoughts.

“I didn’t mean to hit a nerve,” Jongho says through what seems to be a sympathetic smile. “What do you think your childhood was like? If you don’t mind talking about such things. We have time to kill after all.”

You draw your lips into a tight purse, curling them around the edge of the wine glass and pressing an imprint of your dark lipstick there. Subconsciously, your hand tightens around the inside of Jongho’s arm as well, although the Berserker doesn’t comment on the added pressure as he simply continues to regard you with the same steely and careful gaze.

“I think it must have been rather sad,” you admit after some thought. It must not be the answer Jongho was expecting at all because his brows draw together in confusion. “What kind of childhood must one have for them to willingly sell away their memories by fourteen? The more I think… about that time — when they gave me the serum — I recall fighting the doctors but I don’t think it was because I didn’t know what they were doing. I’m certain that I knew my memories would be taken from me. It was the act of them strapping me to a chair like a prisoner that frightened me.”

This time when Jongho smiles, all you can see is pain in his deep red eyes.

“I would have given anything in the universe to have my memories taken away at that age too, if it’s of any comfort to you.” He pauses to swirl the liquid in his glass, watching the red liquor dance before his eyes under the yellow haze around your bodies. “Don’t think you’re weak for wanting to forget that past. No child should ever deal with pains that strong, even if you can’t remember what they are.”

“People like you… San, Mingi… the whole crew honestly — how can I not view myself as weak in comparison? People who were given the choice but denied it and rejected it unlike me, who apparently didn’t want to be left with some shred of dignity. What did I become with that fresh slate they gave me? All I could do then was be weak, but it seems like that hasn’t changed one bit.”

Jongho won’t let up with that devastating smile, and you are about to turn away so that you don’t have to see it any longer when he finally lets it fall.

“For what it’s worth, you are rather strong in my eyes. During your fight with Jisung, I’ll admit that I tried to ease some of your pain then. It’s not something you know about — the others know of it by now so I should have told you sooner and I’m sorry for that but I have a special mutation in my genes that gives me the ability to take away and absorb emotional auras. I inherited it from one of my grandparents so it’s something I grew up learning how to use and I carried that over when I joined the crew. I attempted to do that with you because you were in so much distress and I was worried but — b-but your pain was too much for even me to bear. So before you go around calling yourself weak, you ought to give yourself more credit. Just because the pains you bear are different doesn’t mean that they are any less than the pains the rest of us bear.”

Jongho doesn’t say anything more than that; he slings his wine back in one shot like it’s nothing then places the now empty glass on a waiter’s tray as he’s passing by. You don’t touch your own, mulling over the glass as you fall deep in thought. If Jongho could feel that much from you, then it begs the question of what else he might be able to feel from you.

Can he sense that I’m a Siren too? Would he be able to tell that Seonghwa and Wooyoung are Sirens as well?

Your mind shifts to latch onto something else he said. Your pain was too much for even me to bear.

“It’s okay, Y/N. Stand down,” he murmurs. “You need to pick your battles, and this is not one for you to fight right now.” Again you feel that pull of warmth coming from him, like someone is trying to pull something from your chest, but it retracts almost instantaneously. Jongho falters. His eyes squeeze shut harshly, face contorting with something that almost looks like pain in your eyes, but that lasts less than a second before he’s recovered again. It’s not enough to stop the onslaught of emotions coursing through your veins.

You had been too preoccupied at the time to think about that moment until now.

“That time — did I hurt you? When you tried to take it away, did I hurt you even a little bit?”

“Nothing you did hurt me, Y/N. It wasn’t your fault, I promise you didn’t do anything. It’s something I have done time and time again for others on the crew and something I would do again as well. It’s what I’m good at, and something I was born with for a reason. If it helps even a little bit, then why would I not take the temporary pain?”

Every fiber of your being is telling you to fight those words, to tell him that it’s not worth it, your pain should not be a burden he has to bear as well, yet no words fall from your lips. Your mouth stutters uselessly without saying anything, and Jongho just keeps smiling like nothing is wrong. The clenching in your chest is not fine, however, and you force yourself to turn away from him in the hopes it will alleviate that pain. Instead, your eyes travel to a head of bright red hair that is so starkly different than anything else in the room that you have to stare right at it. It would be nothing odd or out of the ordinary to you since the crew you are now part of has such a wide array of hair colors. It would be something you look right past without much thought.

And yet you find yourself staring right at it. Right at the girl who turns to look around the lounge with red hair sweeping through the air.

You jolt.

Something hits your shoulder hard enough to tip your drink over and spill some of the red wine onto the floor. Your hand retracts from Jongho’s arm to touch the knife hidden behind the fabric of your skirt. You’re forced to pull your gaze away from the girl, finding the man who bumped into you to just be a stumbling drunk man with little sense for spatial awareness and direction. Jongho wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you a bit closer to his body. The man continues on without any regard for you or the wine he just spilled. Jongho takes your glass with his free hand, discarding it at the nearest flat surface before redirecting his focus back to you.

“It’s okay, Y/N, everything is okay.”

“I’m fine,” you murmur back, but your gaze goes straight back to where that redhead just stood.

“You look like you just saw a ghost.”

Instinct tells you to stay put and continue on with the mission, putting that familiar face to the back of your mind. But again your heart is clenching painfully in your chest, racing so fast that you feel the pounds echoing in your ears, and you know you can’t let go of her that easily. Not when she’s this close to you.

“I think I did.” You pull away from Jongho to go chasing through the crowd after that red hair, but the Berserker moves with you in a rush.

“Y/N, we can’t get off track. There’s only six minutes until it’s your turn to go to the counter.”

You wave him off with a dismissive hand rather than responding with words. Moments later, you find your target again, just as she is turning to head for the hallway that Yeosang went down not too long ago.

“Soojin?” You throw the name out as a last resort, mostly a desperate attempt to see if you are right and your eyes aren’t playing tricks on you in this heady yellow haze.

She freezes in place. It gives you just enough time to shove past the crowd and get closer to where she stands. You close your fingers around her shoulder, tugging with as little force as possible so that she turns to face you. There’s not a doubt in your mind when you see her face. She seems to recognize you as well based on the way her eyes are blown wide as saucers. The girl — well, you suppose she would be a woman by now — glances past your shoulder to look at Jongho. Her throat rolls as she swallows around nothing.

“You must have me mistaken for someone else,” Soojin whispers, bringing her gaze back down to you. She dips her head a bit then pulls away from you to head down the hall. You think back to Jisung — the threats and odd comments he made combined with the newly resurfaced memories of Hyunwoo lingering at the forefront of your mind, and you know without a shadow of a doubt that you can’t let her go this easily.

“P-Please, Soojin — I need to talk with you. It’s important, please, I have so many questions and no one else to ask.”

“I’m sure you do, little scapegoat,” she huffs back. “I actually have work to do though and a client waiting for me, so I’m not all too inclined to speak with you. I’m not sure why you came here, but I don’t think I have the answers you’re looking for either.” You don’t have a chance to keep her from leaving after that because she turns and leaves so quickly that it leaves you reeling. Jongho tugs you back by the arm, pulling you from the hallway and out into the lounge again before you can chase after her.

“What the hell was that?” He hisses under his breath.

“She — I-I knew her. She w-was my teammate, one of the p-people assigned to my unit in the military. I… I had no idea she ended up here of all places. Jongho, I have to talk to her, please, I have to. This c-could be what I need! If Jisung won’t tell me the truth, then maybe she knows something. She has to know something o-or else I—”

Your voice dies in your throat, but your unspoken desperation seems to reach Jongho nonetheless. The key to whatever memories you lost could lie in Soojin. Things happened so quickly at the end, perhaps she learned of something before leaving Eros with the others.

“She called you a scapegoat,” Jongho says. He swallows hard, Adam’s Apple bobbing with the motion. “What was that about?”

Truthfully, you hadn’t gotten that far. You didn’t even think to question that part but it is odd and not something you recall her calling you in the past.

“I’m not sure why she would say that. All the more reason to speak to her and ask. Jongho, please!” You attempt to pull away from his grip as you speak. The Berserker doesn’t budge, too strong for you to fight like this, and he doesn’t let up even when you try to slap his hand away.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” He yanks you back to him and brings his free hand up to rest on your forehead. This time, you can physically feel the panic in your bones ebbing away and being pulled to your forehead where Jongho touches you. It’s a frightening sensation but the influence he has over you takes that fear away as well, leaving you in a daze of confusion because you know you should feel bothered right now but you cannot bring yourself to feel that way even as Jongho pulls away from you. His jaw twitches just a hair, not moving much beyond that, then he grits his teeth to hiss out his next words. “Wooyoung is our mission. You have to focus. You have two minutes to get up to that counter and do your job. We can try to track down your teammate later, but not on a mission like this.”

You have it in you to at least be angry enough to tug your arm out of his grasp.

“Don’t touch my emotions like that again. I understand you trying to take my pain, and as much as I hate that and despite the thought of you taking my pains for me, this is different. Emotionally sedating me for the sake of completing a mission better is different.”

You don’t give him a chance to reply before you’re heading off for the counter where Yeosang stood not too long ago. The woman who previously occupied the space behind it has disappeared, now replaced by a young man who must be younger than you from the looks of it.

“How can I help you, ma’am?” He asks as you sidle up to the desk.

“I’d like a room, an hour’s worth.” You fumble a bit with your pockets as you try to fish a credit chip out without exposing the knife strapped to your thigh, but the boy doesn’t look up until you slide the chip across the counter.

“Of course, of course,” he hums. “Do you have any preferences for pleasure tonight?”

“A male short in stature with black hair and tanned skin,” you recite back, forcing a smile onto your lips when the boy glances up at you. He tilts his head to the side. You swallow the saliva gathering in your mouth as the stare grows unsettling then he shakes his head and speaks again.

“Would you like someone more submissive or dominant?”

“Hm? Oh, um…” That wasn’t part of the plan. Surely Yeosang would have mentioned it if he had known they would ask. But what would he have said if they asked him the same? “Um, submissive is fine, I suppose?” The boy hums again then motions towards the hallway where Yeosang and Soojin both headed down.

“Your room will be on the second floor, Room 213. Please take the stairs at the end of the hall.” He passes a keycard your way along with your credit chip, leaving you with a grin and a soft-spoken, “Your courtesan will join you shortly. Enjoy.” You bristle at his words but manage to smile a little bit as you take both the card and your chip back. You leave the counter to head for the hallway, not pausing to look back at where Jongho might be, but you ping your wristband as you go. Nothing has come in from Yeosang’s side again so it’s safe to assume he doesn’t have Wooyoung with him by now. It leaves you and Jongho with more pressure and either more or less of a chance to recover him, so you can only hope for the best as you climb the stairs to the second floor.

Room 213 is empty as expected when you slip inside, and it’s free from that odd yellow fog outside as well, so you bask in the freedom and breathe fresh air deeply while you can. It’s a basic and standard room — much more like a small hotel room than anything else from the cabinet near the door and the double bed pushed up against the wall. There’s a metal sink as well close to the window but nothing else adorns the room leaving it rather dismal and simple. Not that you expected these people to treat the courtesans with even an ounce of respect; it’s still disheartening to think of Wooyoung being stuck in such a small and cramped space without a choice.

Whatever peace you thought you could have is cruelly interrupted less than five minutes later as a series of shy knocks reach your door. You blink up from where you sit perched on the edge of the neatly made bed. Is this how Yeosang felt waiting for his door to open? You inhale sharply, heart pounding mercilessly in your throat and choking you with the strength of an actual hand. And shamefully, you can’t even bring yourself to look at the door when it slides open, too afraid of not seeing Wooyoung standing behind it.

“Y-Y/N?”

You snap your head towards the door so quickly that your neck pops with the effort, eyes blinking open faster than ever, and even when your gaze settles on him, you still can’t quite believe he’s really before you. In that moment, the two of you merely regard each other with stunned stares like neither of you can believe this is possible, and in that time, the door slides shut again to leave you together in the all too small room.

“Wooyoung.” You bring yourself to your feet, standing on shaky legs as you face him. “W-Woo—”

He cuts you short by barreling into you with such force that it knocks the air out of your lungs. The metal around his neck scrapes against your skin hard enough to cut but you pay it no mind as he squeezes his arms around your waist and releases a heart-wrenching sob into your shoulder. Reason returns to you then, bringing you to ping your wristband again; although this time you tap it three times to alert the others that you have Wooyoung with you now. There is nothing more to do after that other than to hug him back as his tears soak your neck and shoulder.

“I-I didn’t — I di-didn’t want to lose hope b-but… fuck it was s-so hard not to and I was st-starting to think I wouldn’t ever s-see you again,” Wooyoung sobs. You almost want to cry with him if not for the small blinking light in the upper corner of the room that catches your eye and sends a surge of panic through you.

“The cameras, Wooyoung. They’re still on, we need to—”

“Y-Yeah, they’re — they only c-check if you hit the button by the bed.” Wooyoung pulls back from your shoulder, at last, rubbing at his tear-stricken cheeks so hard it makes his skin blossom with red. He pauses to catch his breath, or at least steady himself enough to speak without choking on his words. “That si-signals that you’re unsatisfied so they’ll c-check and see what’s — what’s wrong before sending a new courtesan.” Wooyoung puts his hand in yours and laces your fingers without hesitation. The touch seems to offer him some more comfort that helps calm his small hiccups and cries. “Is Y-Yeosang okay?”

“He’s alright, yeah,” you whisper back through a smile. “Misses you something awful, but he’s here too. He tried to get to you first, but they must have sent someone else to him. Jongho came as well. To get you. We came to get you, Wooyoung.”

Those words make Wooyoung’s eyes well up with sickening haste. He sinks to the bed before another sob forces its way out, and you sit down beside him like the mattress might collapse if you move too quickly.

“I’m so glad. So fucking g-glad. Being in a pl-place like this without Yeosang — it’s fucking hell.” Wooyoung sinks his teeth into his lower lip just to keep it from trembling.

“Have you…” Surely it’s not a question you have any right to ask, and part of you feels like Wooyoung did need your help but merely did not want to bring you to this place, even if just to watch through his eyes. Still, you swallow the nerves and force the question out. “Have they made you work yet?”

“It’s not important whether they did or not,” Wooyoung says through a weak smile, but that tells you all you need to know. It sounds too rehearsed and monotonous, like he’s been told to say this even if only by himself. “B-But what’s the plan? How are we getting out? Is someone coming to get us?”

“Um, we’re to wait the allotted time here until we get news from one of Hongjoong’s contacts here. He’s a hacker, and he’ll take care of the surveillance system so that we can open the window and get out that way. We’ll meet Yeosang and Jongho in an alleyway not too far from here after that. Then head back to the ship on a transport car.”

“Thought of everything, huh?”

“I sure hope so.”

“It should work just fine. We’re on the second floor though, so it’ll be quite the fall. Just remember to not go face-first.” Wooyoung’s smile is infectious, and you laugh along with his jest, hand squeezing around his. “How is Seonghwa doing?”

“A-Ah, I nearly forgot you knew about that. Um, he’s alright but Hongjoong didn’t think he was well enough to come on the mission with us.”

“Captain is up then? Yeosang mentioned he’d been out for quite some time because of his injuries. That’s great news that he’s up! I — he’ll be happy to hear that I have some info about where Mingi and San are being held too. I can tell him when we’re back on the ship. B-But Seonghwa is okay otherwise?”

“Yunho said there’s no lingering signs of health issues so he’ll be okay physically. I… I have so many questions that I don’t even know where to begin.” Wooyoung’s smile stretches a bit wider.

“I assumed you would. That’s okay though; we have a full hour to use anyways, so you can ask me anything while we have the time to be alone together. I would say we could do it later when we’re back on the ship but Yeosang probably won’t let me out of his sight for even two seconds from now on. It’d be best for us to get it all out now so we don’t have to hear him scribbling in that damn notebook of his.” Wooyoung can’t hide his elation despite the teasing words, and you know that getting to see Yeosang again soon means more to him than you could ever understand. Yeosang must be feeling the same way himself, waiting out this hour with painstaking patience.

“What happened in the days you didn’t let me in? You went quiet for so long I was getting worried.”

“Ah, we shouldn’t start there,” Wooyoung murmurs, glancing down at the floor. He pauses. The breath of hesitation leaves your stomach in knots. “Nothing you want to hear, I promise. That’s why I didn’t try to bring you in. It wasn’t anything pretty, but I assure you there was nothing they could do to hurt me physically. I’m too far gone for that sort of torture. It’s… over and done with now. More scars to add to my collection, and more for Yeosang to cry over probably. We’ll both be fine. You’re probably wondering about the whole connection thing and us both being Sirens and such, right?”

“I — admittedly yes, but looking back now it seems almost obvious? I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner, I guess. But yeah, specifically that connection or whatever it is. Yeosang said he didn’t know much at all about it.”

“Right, yeah, I don’t know much myself either, to be honest.” Wooyoung presses his lips into a pout. “It’s hard to say what exactly it is. Seonghwa’s books don’t really have anything about this sort of occurrence, but what I’ve gathered from it so far is probably all that Yeosang told you. ‘There’s no place in the universe that you can hide from each other’. Daichi told me that once.”

“He told me the same actually.”

“Mhm, I think he knows a bit more about it than he claims to. For me, I can almost hear you in my head when you’re in distress, even when you’re far away. Except it doesn’t sound like you’re scared or anything like that. It almost sounds as though you’re softly singing to me? Like… I’m on a boat with gentle waves and you’re singing to me through the water. When I’m asleep and dreaming and you reach out to me for help, I can close my eyes and find myself on a boat like that. A white boat on a black lake. And I hear you singing to me in the water, look down, and see a tiny flickering light through the darkness. For years I’ve had that dream.”

“Yeosang… he talked about you having such a dream. Swimming in a black lake and trying to reach someone but not being able to?”

“Yeah! Um, I’ve woken him up so much because of that very dream. I would have that dream time and time again before you joined the crew, desperately swimming to reach you but it was like something was blocking me from getting to you. Like I could never reach you no matter how fast I was. I would never be able to get in. Then suddenly — one night I did, and I woke up in a box of fabrics in the cargo bay.” Wooyoung shifts to look you in the eye, a weak laugh slipping through his lips. “That feels so long ago now.”

“I’ve been wondering how to thank you for that,” you murmur. “If not for that moment, I would have died.” The skin around your nails suddenly seems a lot more interesting, and you busy yourself with picking at it mindlessly rather than looking back in Wooyoung’s direction. He doesn’t let your hand drift far from his though before he’s tugging it right back into his grasp. His other hand finds its way atop yours as well, holding your joined ones together tightly.

“I didn’t do it to get a thank you. It was just… the right thing to do. It’s sad that we live in such a bad and awful society where you feel the need to thank me for doing something as simple as that.”

“Did you not thank Yeosang for saving his life once upon a time?” You dare to ask. Wooyoung is a bit startled at first, caught off-guard by both your sudden question and the content behind it, but he laughs loud and clear without restraint.

“For someone who claims to hate talking about his life, he sure does talk a lot, doesn’t he?” Wooyoung brushes his bang out of his eyes, pushing the strands that have quickly grown unruly and long to the side. “Yeosang never lets me thank him. Any time I’ve tried, he shut me down before I could finish. Honestly, he saved my life twice. Once when he chose me from that lineup of slaves and spared me a crueler fate, and once when he broke those chains and set me free.”

Chose… me…? Then it wasn’t Yeosang’s mother who picked Wooyoung out for him?

You don’t get to dwell on that thought for long because Wooyoung simply continues to ramble, more and more peace coming to his shoulders as he calms down further.

“Yeosang only ever thanks me. As odd as that is.”

“Did you — have you ever saved his life then?” You already know the answer to that question, but it’s already hanging in the air between you by the time you catch yourself.

“Yes.” Wooyoung is beaming by now, lips stretched wide as he grins. “I got him out of prison when they charged him with treason.”

“And that’s what he thanks you for?”

Wooyoung’s smile doesn’t falter even as he shakes his head in denial.

“He never claims to have saved me, not even once. Instead, Yeosang says that I saved him.”

“B-But why? Objectively he did save you, so why does he not acknowledge that?”

“Because, Y/N, there’s a difference between loving someone and being in love with someone. Yeosang and I loved each other for many years before. But just loving each other wasn’t enough for Crown Prince Kang Minhee to break my chains and commit treason. When ”I love you“ turns into ”I am in love with you“ and ”I am in love with the mere idea of you“, then Yeosang set me free. Even though I would never have asked him to do it, he chose to on his own accord. So he thanks me and says that I saved him because of that. Because I trusted him enough to put my life in his hands time and time again and let him fall in love with me. He claims it to be a difficult thing — allowing an Elitist to fall in love with you. But with Yeosang… he has only ever made it easy. There are times where it is difficult and frustrating, where I wish that he could be anything other than an Elitist, for fuck’s sake, times when I would rather break his neck in an absolutely non-sexy kind of way, but that’s part of love and loving someone. That’s why he’s grateful to me. It sounds selfish and egotistical to say, but after having him repeat himself for so many years, I’ve grown to accept that even if I don’t believe I deserve it.” Wooyoung speaks with a raw conviction that you’ve heard before. It’s the same tone Hongjoong used when speaking to Seonghwa in the medbay, the same tone Yeosang used when talking about Wooyoung and their past together.

Even if you wanted to formulate a response, you don’t think you would be able to because of how overwhelming the emotion in Wooyoung’s voice is. He’s had every opportunity to blame Yeosang for the misfortune in his life, claim that if only Yeosang hadn’t picked him from the start he would be better off, claim that Yeosang got him out of being a slave only to put him in a more dangerous position. Wooyoung could even blame Yeosang for not protecting him well enough to keep him from being kidnapped and tortured.

Yet not once has Wooyoung blamed him.

Perhaps you were being unfair in pushing the blame onto Seonghwa’s shoulders when he didn’t fight your decision to go with Jisung. Is it so wrong to want someone to fight for you? Yet Yeosang has fought every day for Wooyoung and continues to do so. Wooyoung, who has been through hell and tortures he does not wish to speak about, asked about Yeosang’s well-being before anything else. Yet if they were in your position — if Wooyoung were the one agreeing to go with Jisung to save the others, would Yeosang not drop everything to fight for him?

Your mind screams back at you, telling you that it’s different, the situations aren’t the same, the relationships aren’t the same, and you cannot compare yourself to people like Wooyoung and Yeosang who have had years to figure this out. And so, you don’t compare yourself to them.

Rather you compare Seonghwa and Hongjoong to them. How Seonghwa’s worst nightmare is not being able to save Hongjoong from himself. The sheer will and determination in Hongjoong’s eyes when he said he would never let Seonghwa’s demons overtake him. You can’t help but wonder if perhaps that is similar to what Wooyoung and Yeosang have. Neither are anything remotely close to what you have — had, your mind suggests ever so helpfully — with Seonghwa yourself.

“It may be selfish, but I don’t want you to push me away. I would rather be hurt and still have you in my life rather than to be perfectly fine without you.”

That memory slips through unannounced and unasked for, and the mere prospect of why it’s coming back to you while you’re having such thoughts scares you so much that you slam the door in that memory’s face and throw away the key before it breaks loose.

“But anyway that’s — I rambled a bit too much, that’s not the point, um, have you ever had similar dreams like those? The ones I had, I mean? Before waking up in my body or before you came to the crew, any time you can remember. I know you haven’t had much opportunity yet, but you’ve had a few experiences by now.”

“I can’t recall ever having those sorts of dreams. That dream you mentioned about the lake — I had a dream that I was drowning in a black lake the night you came to save Seonghwa, but when I wake up in your body, it’s simply that. All I know is falling asleep and waking up like a passenger in your consciousness. I don’t have any control like you’ve had over my body.” Wooyoung’s eyes are oh so expectant and pleading, and it twists something painful in your gut. You want so badly to have information for him, to be able to give him answers or even a hint as to what could be going on, but frankly, you have nothing to offer. “I’m sorry, Wooyoung. I-I feel utterly useless in this whole situation. I d-don’t know what’s wrong with me or my head, I just can’t remember at all and I don’t… You and Seonghwa seem to have this whole Siren thing figured out, how it works, what sort of abilities you have, how to use them. I, on the other hand, have so many gaps and missing pieces in my memories. I’ve had one or two moments where I consciously used some sort of ability, then Seonghwa tried to help me learn, but other than that I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“It’s okay!” Wooyoung rushes to reassure you, squeezing his hand tight around yours as he smiles again. “Y/N, please don’t worry about that. I don’t expect you to have an answer right now, it’s really okay. We’re gonna figure this out together now that you finally know what I am and we’ll be back on the ship soon. And I can help you understand more about being a Siren in general too! If we can get to the Dreamscape together, maybe Daichi will be willing to talk.”

“Last time I was there, he tried to kill me and told me that if I kept asking questions he would end my life,” you snort. Wooyoung’s smile drops into a grave expression that doesn’t fit his features.

“In the beginning — when I first started seeing Daichi, that is — he wasn’t like that. He wanted me to find other Sirens. That’s what ultimately made Yeosang choose Captain’s crew because Daichi had told me there was a Siren there. Then as more time went on, Daichi seemed to get more and more frightened by the idea of Sirens finding each other. He started telling me that someone dangerous would find me, someone I should guard myself from.”

“He warned me of the same when I first came aboard. But Seonghwa mentioned how Daichi’s job is to guide Sirens to each other?”

“That’s true, yes, but Daichi seems to have changed his mind along the way. I can’t understand why, but I’m sure it will make it a lot more difficult to find two more for Captain.” Your conversation dies a bit there, leaving both you and Wooyoung to stew over the predicament. According to Daichi, you spent years denying your identity and refusing to listen to him, so you never made an effort to find any Sirens like both Wooyoung and Seonghwa have been apparently. Still, it leaves you more curious than before, especially given what all happened in your latest escapade in the Dreamscape.

“Tsukio can find you anywhere, even while far away! This mental connection you share, this link — the two of you are a dyad, a yin and a yang, a pair that cannot be severed. No matter how far apart you are, the two of you will always be able to come back to each other.”

“Did he ever tell you that we will always be able to come back to each other?”

“Come… back to each other? No, I’ve never heard him say such a thing before.”

“I remember seeing you in a dream before, not the Dreamscape but an actual dream. But that dream felt more like a memory, and I asked you about it once in the medbay. I know you told me no then, but does it have anything to do with what Daichi said possibly?”

“Hm, I suppose it could?” Wooyoung leans back and looks up at the ceiling. You can’t figure out what’s on his mind just through his expression, and what he says next doesn’t help much either. “But I don’t have any sort of memory like that.”

“You — you were wiped with a serum too, weren’t you?”

“Did Yeosang tell you that as well?” Wooyoung asks through a frown. “Did he mention how guilty he feels about that too? Probably, that would be very much like him to do so. Guilty for things that aren’t even his fault… but yes. Yes, my memories were wiped too.”

“I have another question. I’m sorry for asking so much all at once. Yeosang never gave me a clear answer though, so I’m still curious, but why haven’t you told Hongjoong about this?” Wooyoung doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he sinks his teeth into his lower lip and refuses to look your way for a bit. The silence drags but it’s nothing uncomfortable or unsettling. It isn’t like you’re on a time crunch right now either, so you’re more than willing to wait until he is ready to speak.

“It’s something stupid and selfish honestly,” he whispers after a bit. His other hand finds purchase on the bed, picking at a loose thread hanging off the sheets. “I didn’t expect Yeosang to take it so seriously, but now he’s adamant even when I try to tell him otherwise. Really it’s just that when I was still a slave, I didn’t always have to wear the collar. It dampened and muted my abilities so I couldn’t use them freely. Shocked me a lot too whenever I foolishly tried to use them without permission, leaving some really ugly and awful scars. Yeosang always treated the wounds when that would happen.”

His hand travels up to touch the band of metal hanging about his neck. You follow the movement with your eyes. You can’t miss the spreading scars underneath the metal as he shifts it, like little lightning bolts of pale skin hiding beneath it, and you wonder if that’s what you felt the first time you woke up in his body.

“I have a lot of scars from lots of different things. It shouldn’t be any different, and it shouldn’t even matter because it’s stupid and childish and I need to get over it. Even though the collar is dead and doesn’t work, like it doesn’t mute my abilities anymore or anything like that, just the idea of having it on keeps me sane. Being a Siren is both a blessing and a curse. Some abilities you’re born with are crueler than imaginable and can be used to do horrific things. The things I was forced to do with mine are not something I ever want to revisit again. So… I keep the collar on because the trauma I suffered while wearing it for so many years keeps me sane. Merely the idea of wearing it prevents me from using my abilities because I was conditioned into a state where if I tried doing anything while the collar was on, I would be hurt. When it comes to visiting you, it’s different because I’m asleep when that happens. And whenever people other than Yeosang or myself try to touch it, I get thrown back into the memories of his father taking it off me to use me as a weapon and I-I can’t — it’s too much to bear.

“I trust Hongjoong. I really trust him and admire him and respect him so much. As much as I do Yeosang even if it’s in a different way. But I have an innate fear of authority that tells me no matter who it is, the people who have power over me will abuse it. That if anyone above me knows I’m a Siren, I’ll be used again, and I’m afraid of that. So it’s not that I don’t want to tell Hongjoong. Just that as long as I have this collar on and as long as these demons linger at the edge of my mind, I don’t think I can ever tell him what I am.”

You want to express an apology for bringing those memories back or at least offer an ounce of consolation because you can almost feel the pain radiating off his body in waves. But the moment you reach out to pull him into a hug, the door to your room slides open out of nowhere. You jerk, and Wooyoung lifts an arm to protect the both of you, but you take the initiative in pushing him down to the bed. In one swift movement, you climb in front of him, one knee down on the mattress and the other stretched out in front of Wooyoung’s body. The blade against your thigh is cool on your fingertips, but you don’t pull it out quite yet. The flash of red hair before you stops you at the last second.

Soojin?

The girl is already halfway in the room, door sliding shut behind her, and the second it’s fully closed, she turns to twist the lock into place.

“W-Wait, we’re n-not supposed to lock the doors!” Wooyoung protests, leaning up over your shoulder to see better. Soojin levels him with a sharp glare. You reach behind you to push Wooyoung back enough so that he’s hidden behind your shoulder, matching Soojin’s stare with equal intensity. The girl steps closer to you, draws a single finger up, and stabs you hard in the chest with her dull nail.

“You and me need to have a chat after all it seems.”

“What do you mean?” You clench your fingers around the handle of your knife, still not completely at ease with the woman standing in front of you.

“What do I mean? I mean that my fucking client downstairs just tried to fucking murder me and gave me a message from Han Jisung of all people! Seeing you and hearing from that bastard on the same day after being free from that past for several years? That’s no fucking coincidence, Y/N.”

“Murder!? How did you — how did you get away?”

A laugh of disbelief escapes Soojin’s lips as she pulls back a few feet.

“I killed him, of course! What else was I supposed to do? I dumped the fucker’s body out the window for staff to clean up later. This sort of thing happens frequently enough for them not to question it, and besides, I told them it was a jealous worker so they won’t really care all too much about him. But what the fuck is going on? Why are you here and why did Han Jisung just tell me my time is up and try to have me killed?”

“I… I-I don’t — I’m not with Jisung, I know nothing about that at all. He—” You cut yourself short with a sharp inhale, eyes darting across the floor like it has all the answers in it. “Wait, he knew I would be coming here though. Did he know that you worked here?”

“Unfortunately, not by choice though. We ran across each other around a year ago in the city, and I mentioned working at the House in passing.”

You shift to motion back at Wooyoung and pull your hand off the knife on your leg at last.

“He was brought here against his will by Jisung. Well, whoever Jisung is working with at least. I only came to get him out. We’re — he’s part of the crew I’m working with now. Jisung knew where he would be and that I would come to get him.”

“And he’s still a psychopath when it comes to you then?” Soojin scoffs, brows knitting together to accentuate her disbelief. “He tried to have me killed just so that I would stay out of your business?”

“I don’t know, Soojin,” you exhale. “It doesn’t make any sense why he would do that. I already made a deal with him and he’ll get to take me regardless of what happens here.”

“T-Take you?” Wooyoung interjects. “Take you where?” His hand latches around your elbow and squeezes hard. You ignore the man in favor of maintaining your focus on Soojin, however, much to his dismay.

“Unless you know something Jisung wouldn’t want me to know and he couldn’t even risk the thought of us running into each other and speaking.” At that, Soojin tilts her head to the side in confusion.

“What could I possibly know that you don’t?”

“What happened before you left the crew?” Her confusion intensifies to a dramatic degree.

“Have you gone mad? Do you not remember or something? You were always a bit bad with memory, yeah, but has it gotten this bad?”

“Please, Soojin, I’m begging you please just tell me what happened before the crew fell apart. I know you called me a scapegoat for a reason, please.” You reach out across the empty space between your bodies, having to stand to reach her, but when you do, you close a hand around her wrist. Soojin blinks between where you hold her and your face without speaking for so long that you think she’s going to refuse you again.

“I called you a scapegoat because I thought you were in on Jisung’s plan at the time,” she says finally, pulling her other hand up to run through her hair. “You would’ve done anything for him so I thought that was just another part of it.”

“What did I do?”

“I should be asking what you remember happening instead.”

“What I remember is stealing documents and plotting to dismantle the military from the inside out with you guys but I fucked up. I know I fucked up and got caught and Hyunwoo took the blame for me and it got him fucking executed.” Soojin leans back, hand tugging out of your light grip.

“I know nothing of what happened after Ash, Juyeon, and I left Eros. But before we left…” It’s her turn to hold you by the wrist. She turns your arm over and exposes the inside of your left arm, right where that damned brand sits against your raised skin. “You didn’t deserve this. It wasn’t your burden to bear. You were the scapegoat, and that’s why the team fell apart, that’s why we all broke up and ran away. You didn’t plan to steal anything, nor did you plot a thing. Neither did Hyunwoo. It was all Jisung; Jisung wanted to dismantle the military and kill the king. When Juyeon, Ash, and I found out what he was planning to do, we brought it to Hyunwoo. All Hyunwoo said was that stopping Jisung wasn’t something he could do. So he told us to leave while we still had the chance and that he would take care of things. He would take the blame so that no one else would have to get hurt. But you didn’t want him to do that, so you ran off and carried out Jisung’s plan for him.”

“Which part? Did I k-kill the king… before Hyunwoo died?”

Soojin heaves a deep sigh.

“The last night we were all together as a team, you snuck out of the barracks and infiltrated the palace. You stole the documents Jisung wanted — whatever the fuck they were because I don’t even know why he wanted them in the first place if he was going to kill the king anyways — and you killed the king that night too. Everything went to shit. It all happened too fast for the rest of us to know what was really going on. You just came back to the barracks and turned the lights on and…”

You don’t realize how hard your head is pounding until the woman trails off, voice dying in her throat, and then it hits you will so much force that you feel your body beginning to lurch. You would fall over, most likely smack your head on the sink as well, if not for Wooyoung jumping up and catching you by the waist before you can fully go down. And thanks to him, all you do is hunch over and hold your head in your hands as a stab of pain sears through your skull.

“Breathe, Y/N, breathe for me,” he urges as you slump your weight back against him. “You need to breathe, okay? You’re hyperventilating. One breath every five seconds, slow it down, you’re okay.”

“Th-There was blood. There was blood, wasn’t there?” Looking at Soojin fills your vision with pure crimson, but it’s not because of her hair this time.

“Yes,” she whispers back, not daring to speak any louder than that. “You were… drenched in blood that wasn’t yours. And we were so scared you had been hurt somehow. I carried you to the bath and cleaned you but you didn’t have a single scratch on you.”

“O-Oh god,” you choke out. The red in your vision turns coppery as a different image takes over and a new memory swarms your head.

“What the fuck did you do!?”

Hands squeezing hard around your throat, shoving you under bloody waters.

“Let her go!”

“You ruined everything! How could you do this? Why are you so fucking useless? I told you to sit still and not do anything!”

The water spread to your nostrils and forced its way in as you struggled to find air.

“Jisung, release her right this instant!”

The hands around your throat just grew tighter.

Wooyoung eases you down to the floor when the rest of your strength leaves you. He keeps a hand at your waist, using the other to hold your head to his chest in a desperate attempt to control the wild tremors shooting through your body. You keep a hand pressed to your throbbing temple but it does nothing to alleviate the pain you’re in, one that feels as though something is trying to rip your head in half with their bare hands.

“C-Can’t remember more. I can’t, I do-don’t want to remember anymore, I — it hurts. It hurts too much, it hurts so much.”

“Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay. You don’t have to remember anymore, okay? You’re good, you’re done, no more. No more.” Even through the pain, you can’t miss the desperation in Wooyoung’s tone. His hand moves for your arm where your wristband sits, buzzing uselessly against your skin. “Y/N, what does this mean? Is something happening?”

You want to answer, You even open your mouth to do so. Yet the moment you do, the taste of that metallic soapy water fills your mouth and you choke on air.

“Y/N, please, what does it mean? Are we in trouble?” You think you shake your head but the panic in Wooyoung’s eyes isn’t reassuring and you aren’t sure you have any hold over the muscles in your body right now. “Please, do you know where our friend is?” He asks, directing his focus to where Soojin kneels in front of you.

“The brunette?”

“Brunette? No, no, I’m talking a blond?”

“J-Jongho,” you force out, gritting your teeth until your jaw hurts from the force. “Jongho… here too.”

“I saw that name on the register,” Soojin cuts in. “I checked it to find what room you were in and saw his name further down on the list.”

“Please get him and bring him. Please, I know you — we just need your help right now, please,” Wooyoung begs. His grip on your waist tightens a little as Soojin hesitates, and it doesn’t let up until the girl nods and leaves the room in haste. Wooyoung brings you back to his chest once she’s gone, matching your shaky breaths as he gently rocks you back and forth. “I can’t… know your memories or the pain you’re feeling right now, but I know what it’s like to suddenly be hit with memories you forgot you had. Ones that were suppressed behind an iron wall. I know what it’s like to have it slip out and hit you.”

“It fucking hurts.” You clench your jaw again, feeling a burn of pain up the side of your face with the movement. “Like someone is stabbing my b-brain with a da-damn icepick.”

“Are the memories painful?”

“I d-don’t know. I can hardly think straight. My head hurts. That’s all I can think about.”

“The serum… I’m assuming it’s the same one I was given back then. It can’t take away memories. Yeah, they tell you that it’s a wipe, but that’s only because they don’t want you trying to find those old memories. It can’t remove parts of the brain like that. They just use it to lock away memories but there’s no guarantee of it being permanent, so when you do remember something they tried to lock away, it hurts.”

“D-Does it hurt you like this too?”

“Yes, but I’m — pain isn’t something that bothers me all too much, and I’m lucky enough to have Yeosang nearby when it happens. I’ve got a prescription for the pain from Yunho too. We can… we can get you something long-term back on the ship.”

Another stab of pain hits as the door slides open, metal grating hard on your ears, but this time Jongho stands with Soojin. He rushes over to join you and Wooyoung on the floor in a panic, obviously torn between being excited to see Wooyoung again and your current crumpled state.

“Yeosang’s hour is up and he’s waiting at the meeting point. Captain hasn’t buzzed in on the contact yet.” Jongho reaches down to lay a hand against your forehead. You’re quick enough to turn your face further into Wooyoung’s shirt, inhaling the sickening floral scent that clings to his skin.

“Don’t even think about trying to take it away,” you hiss.

“I can’t take physical pain, don’t worry. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Here, something for the pain.” Soojin interrupts the moment to lean over you with a cup of unknown contents. “Fast-acting pain reliever. Every room has some in it just in case patrons get too out of hand. We keep it in the cabinets, I promise it’s nothing bad. It’ll numb you and make you a bit sluggish for a while, but it’ll also take the pain away.”

“Thank you,” Wooyoung murmurs as he takes the cup from her hands. He helps bring the cup to your lips, pushing some of the murky grey liquid inside into your mouth, and you struggle not to gag around the taste of it. He doesn’t stop until the entirety of its contents are drained into your mouth then tilts your head back to keep it down when some threatens to drip out the corners of your lips. An unknown hand comes down on your knee.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry.” Soojin. “I didn’t mean to hurt you with this information.” You swallow hard only to choke a second later on the putrid aftertaste clinging to your tongue. Wooyoung lets you cough into his shoulder without complaint, passing the now empty cup back to Soojin.

“You couldn’t have known,” you murmur after escaping the coughing fit. “It’s not your fault.”

“I didn’t know what they would do to you after we left the planet,” she sighs through the quiet of the room. “I should have expected it honestly, knowing Jisung, but maybe I hoped he would be better than that. He always manipulated you so it only makes sense that he would try to manipulate your memories too. Do you at least know what happened a little bit better now?”

“Y-Yeah, yeah.” You try to pull away from Wooyoung and get up but his grip on you doesn’t let up. “My memories were taken away for a second time and replaced with something else. So instead of only losing fourteen years of my life, I lost eighteen and spent the last three years believing those manipulated memories to be real. I’m peachy.”

Another buzz from your wristband pulls your attention away, and Jongho glances down at his own too.

“Cameras are down.”

“Let’s go then,” you mutter.

“Are you okay to move? Don’t push it if you’re not strong enough.”

“We need to go now while we still can,” you protect, letting Wooyoung help you to your feet even if it’s on shaky legs. Jongho gives a curt nod then heads for the window, no doubt to pry it open. Soojin catches you by the arm before you can fully turn away.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. Even if you can’t remember all of it, there are still things I regret saying and doing to you. I should have known back then how much Jisung was manipulating you and not pushed so much blame onto your shoulders.”

“You can get out now with us, Soojin. While you have the chance.”

“And do what with that freedom?” She huffs out a dry and lifeless laugh. “Wander aimlessly? Ash and Juyeon are both missing in action. I have no clues or leads on where they might be or if they’re even alive. I don’t have anything left out there beyond the House.”

“I… if I hear anything out there about them, I promise I’ll send you a message. I’ll find a way to get news to you, maybe through my captain’s contact or something. I swear if I can help you get out of this hellhole I will.”

Soojin reaches up to ruffle her hand through your hair, mussing the loose locks more.

“You always were a good kid, Y/N. Too good for the life you were forced to live.” It hurts to watch her smile. It hurts even more to let Wooyoung guide you to where Jongho waits by the now open window. “Go while you can, you three. The medicine will wear off in a few hours, but hopefully, you’ll have access to something better by then. I’ll make sure you get out safely.”

Jongho dips through the open space first, hopping down to the pristine streets below with little issue.

“Send Y/N down next!”

You can’t tear your gaze off Soojin. You don’t know when you might see her again or if you even will, and it hurts to leave her behind like this but she just keeps smiling at you with bright eyes and blinding hair.

“T-Thank you, Soojin. Please stay safe, if you can.”

“Always.”

With that, Wooyoung hoists you over the ledge of the window and dangles you far enough down so that your fall is softened a bit. Jongho catches you by the legs, taking the brunt of your weight before you hit the ground. Wooyoung drops down beside you without warning a second later. As Jongho eases you down, you dare to glance up at the window you just left from, and it shuts slowly without a sign from Soojin inside.

Wooyoung rushes back to your side and loops an arm back around your waist when you start to slump forward again.

“That’s — that’ll look too suspicious,” you mutter, pulling his arm back to his own side.

“We just dropped out a fucking window. I’m sure that would look more suspicious.”

“I’ll be okay.”

Yet two steps later, you’re stumbling over your heels and Jongho comes to your rescue this time. He tugs your arm through his own as he walks forward without saying a word. You can only lean your weight on him and slump your chin against his shoulder.

“Thank you…”

Silence drapes over the three of you as you make your way to the meeting point with Yeosang. You aren’t in as much pain as you were earlier (Soojin wasn’t bluffing when she said fast-acting) but the medicine is already making you a bit groggy. It feels a bit like you’re wading through sludge just trying to walk a few steps, and frankly, Jongho is the only thing keeping you going at this point. Wooyoung lingers at your other side. Every once in a while, you feel his worried gaze find its way to your form. He might even be speaking to you at some point because you hear something that sounds vaguely like his voice through the radio static in your ears, but there is far too much on your mind and too much to think about right now for you to pay any attention to that.

If… if I killed the king before Hyunwoo’s execution, then who did I kill that night? Did I kill anyone at all? Was that memory fabricated? What have I been working towards all these years if that’s a lie?

Funny how your search for answers only left you with more questions instead. There are too many questions to keep track of and not remotely enough answers to them. You know you won’t be able to have those answers yet either, not while San and Mingi are still missing and Jisung is bothering you. Where would you even look for answers now? Jisung would never tell you a thing, Hyunwoo is dead and gone, and now you’re leaving Soojin behind.

The one thing that reaches your brain through the static in your ears is a dry and choked sob. You pull yourself out of your thoughts as Wooyoung disappears from your side. It doesn’t take much to guess why. You’ve reached the meeting point, the all too small alleyway where Yeosang waits for you three, and Wooyoung is running straight to him with reckless abandon.

“Y-Yeosang, angel, Yeosang, my god I’m—” Wooyoung’s voice dies in a cracked sob when he reaches the Elitist. His hands barely brush the man’s shoulders because Yeosang drops to his knees in front of Wooyoung, face hidden but no doubt bearing tears, and he balls his fists around the flimsy material of Wooyoung’s pants. He presses his forehead to Wooyoung’s hip, hands traveling further up to press against the small of his back. Wooyoung can only card a hand through Yeosang’s hair in response, but it’s enough for now. It’s enough for both of them like this, with Yeosang’s knuckles white from the pressure of clinging to Wooyoung, and you and Jongho maintain your distance as best you can to give them this moment.

“Are they happy?” You whisper to Jongho even though the answer is blindingly obvious before you. The Berserker’s lips twist into a small grin.

“I don’t think there’s a word strong enough to describe how they’re feeling right now.”

Yeosang pulls his head off Wooyoung’s hip and stares up at the man with tears on his cheeks and stars in his eyes. Wooyoung dips down to the Elitist’s height, pulling his face up to his own and slotting their lips together like nothing else in the universe exists around them. Again, it’s raw, as all emotions between these two seem to be, but it belongs to them and it’s something you can’t take away from them. When they part lips to gulp in desperate breaths of fresh air, Wooyoung places his forehead over Yeosang’s and takes the breath from his lungs like that. They don’t exchange words but there doesn’t seem to be a need for words either, not until Yeosang seems to catch hold of himself and come back to his senses.

“The car is waiting for us at the other end of the alley. Driver’s already pulled up.” Jongho nods when the Elitist drags his gaze over to where the two of you stand. Yeosang lets Wooyoung pull him back into space after that, unable to contain a smile as the Siren continues to press more kisses to his cheeks. You and Jongho trail behind them to the other end of the alleyway. Seeing them together like this makes it worth it. You knew it would and you were striving to bring them this moment, but seeing it unfold before you like this increases that feeling tenfold.

Once in the car, Yeosang sits Wooyoung down in one of the cushioned seats then drops to the floor between his legs even when Wooyoung protests and tells him to get up.

“Stop, that’s weird! It looks weird, Yeo, please! It looks like you’re trying to su—”

“Shut up,” Yeosang mumbles back as he drops his head to rest against Wooyoung’s thigh. “You’re the one who makes everything dirty. Get your head out of the gutter.”

Wooyoung obviously doesn’t mind all too much because he returns to toying with the Elitist’s blond locks moments later as you and Jongho settle into the seats beside the pair. And from where you’re sitting, they really do look like young boys again, more than just a former slave and ex-prince but also less than that. Just… boys who fell in love despite the odds set against them.

“I’m sorry, Woo, I’m so sorry.”

“Shh, angel, I know. It’s okay. We’re okay.”

You tune out of the conversation there. It’s far too intimate and personal for you to encroach on, and the medicine has you falling asleep in your seat anyways. Jongho seems to pick up on that, reaching over to pat your leg.

“Rest while you can.”

A hum comes as your reply as you slump to the side, head hitting the side of the car with a loud thud. Jongho exhales a quiet laugh and pulls you over to rest against his shoulder instead.

“’m sorry for snapping at you,” you murmur. You’re forcing your eyes to stay open long enough to get the apology out but it’s growing more difficult by the second. “I didn’t mean to, I was afraid… of her slipping out of my grasp but… that’s no excuse.”

Your fluttering eyes snap wide open when something presses down hard on your nose. You blink uselessly at Jongho and the finger he hovers over your face.

“Stop talking nonsense, yeah? Rest. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’re not?”

“Hm, no, I’m not.”

“Promise.”

“I promise I’m staying right here.”

“And we’ll get San back?” You mumble just before the drowsiness wins.

“We’ll get your San back too, I promise.”

✧✧✧ a/n: yall imma be honest this chapter feels like a whole fever dream and a half but i love it nonetheless she’s my Baby i hope you guys love her just as much and enjoy her <3 lots happened but also not a lot happened? i feel like the wc is so dramatic for Not A Lot but yaknow that’s life ! next chapter we’re getting juicy and bringing a part 16 move back bc teehee that’s what i do best u know me anywho let me know what u think as always i love u all im so happy to bring u guys this chapter and so excited for the coming ones!

taglist: @faeriewoobin @sugarrimajins @atinyinwonderland @sparklychangbin @jeong-uwu @jeonartemis @anothershorthuman @xxbluestrifexx @haotheheckk @noonawriter @lostscenarios @nlost21 @mirror-juliet @okokokok123-45 @purple-aeon @theoinkypiglet @toothlessshiber @atinyarmyx1 @simpforhyunjin @hwangwoosan @vampire-jimin @softyubi @drumboydowoon @chatsgotmytongue @just-a-starfruit @babydolljo @scintillating-souls @khjssss @rawrrainn @hewwo-from-the-other-side @icekdy @eggteez @bangtanxberm @uglychildd @lucymultistan

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smells-like-mettaton · 3 years ago

Note

soriel, 1 (chocolate) for the ask game?

Like a Box of Chocolates

Rating: G Word Count: 2734 Read on AO3: here

---

"Ok. I brought a few choices," Sans said while sitting with his back to the door. He pulled a plastic sack full of chocolate and chocolate-adjacent treats out from under his shirt.

"Oh, you did not have to do that." The voice behind the door sounded embarrassed.

"It's no big deal." He shrugged instinctively, though she wouldn't be able to see it. "Not like I candy things like this for you very often."

The lady laughed, even though the pun was a stretch. She was a great audience like that.

"I cannot argue with that. After all, it is the choco-thought that counts."

Sans let out a wheeze. Man, she had him beat in the bad jokes department. He needed to up his game.

"What can I say, I'm a sweet guy." That joke would work better if she could see his wink.

"You certainly are, my friend."

Sans blinked. He hadn't been prepared for the genuine warmth in her voice. Now he felt something like a melted chocolate himself.

"Uh. You'd better wait and make sure I didn't pick out garbage before you say that." He chuckled nervously and spread out the chocolates in the snow.

"Alright. Hit me with your best choco-shot."

He laughed out loud at that one too. She could really squeeze some mileage out of chocolate puns.

"First off we have the MTT-Brand Chocolate Mettaton. Which is exactly what it sounds like. Chocolate in the shape of everyone's favorite robot superstar." He scanned the back of the wrapper. "Contains sequins and glitter, but it's still monster food, so probably won't cause any more indigestion than Temmie Flakes. Still, wouldn't blame ya if you passed on that."

The lady laughed. "I do not know this 'Mettaton,' but he sounds like someone…"

Her voice trailed off, the way it always did when she neared a personal topic. It seemed to be happening more and more often lately. Sans didn't know if that was a good sign, or if he needed to do a better job of distracting her.

"Someone I know would have liked that," she finished clumsily.

"Welp. It's yours, then." He attempted to slide it under the door.

Attempted. The thick block of chocolate wouldn't fit through the narrow space.

"What are my other options?" The lady asked, not seeming to hear his failure.

(Or just ignoring it. The way they always ignored things they didn't want to acknowledge.)

Oh well. He'd deal with that later, if she wanted to.

He picked up the next box and rattled it. It looked thin enough to fit under the door.

"I think this one's called, uh, pocket?” He couldn’t tell for sure, since the box was labeled in a language he didn’t recognize. Where did Alphys get this stuff? “A pal gave it to me. They’re like chocolate-covered sticks, I think."

"Not precisely what I was looking for, but I would love to try it regardless," she said. "If I am allowed to have both options, I mean. If not, I should probably stick with the Em-Tee-Tee."

Sans bit back a snort. So she hadn't heard after all. That made this a lot more awkward.

"Do you wanna hear the other options first? Wouldn't want ya to have any regrets."

"Oh! There are more?"

She sounded as surprised as a kid finding an extra fry in the bottom of their Grillby's bag. He couldn't help grinning.

"Yup. Next up is a chocolate spider donut—”

“Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders?” The voice seemed on the verge of laughter again.

His eyesockets widened. “Uh… welp. Guess you don’t need the whole spiel, huh?”

“There is a spider bakesale right around the corner from my home,” the lady explained. “I believe they are saving for a… ‘heated limo’? To travel safely through Snowdin. I wish I could help them, but I did not think to take much gold when I…”

Another dead end. That was fine, Sans could piece together enough. Not that her personal life was any of his business, anyway.

“If it makes ya feel any better, they really raked me over the coals for this one.”

“It does not!” came her quick reply. “I only asked for a chocolate bar. Not for you to spend money that you need on me.”

Geez, this lady was too good for him. As if Sans ever really went out of his way for anyone.

Except Papyrus, but he was family. And sometimes Grillby, if he felt bad about failing to pay his tab for too long. And Alphys, but he owed her for screwing off after space-time blew up in their faces.

And now, the lady behind the door. The lady he didn’t owe anything to, except a few good laughs.

Who was he kidding? Those laughs were more important to him than anything.

“Eh, it just cost me one day of selling ‘dogs. Donut worry about it.”

“Very well. Since it was for a good cause, I will not grill you any further. But please tell me that was the last chocolate you purchased for me.”

“It’s the last one I purchased.” He grinned. While she couldn’t see his expression, she must have heard the but in his voice.

“Please tell me you did not steal any chocolate for me.”

“Geez, lady, what do you take me for? I’d never commit petty thievery.”

“Well, that is reassuring.”

“Yep. Gotta save room for the real high-dollar crimes. Like the illegal hot dog stand.”

The voice behind the door went silent. He wished he could see her face now more than ever. His own grin slowly slid from his skull.

“Everyone knows about it,” he reassured her. “If the King really wanted to shut me down, he’d have done it a long time ago.”

“Oh, I am not judging you for that. I am sure the law is rigged against you if the King has any say in it.” Her voice was surprisingly bitter.

His real problem was that he couldn’t ever find the necessary documents to get licensed in food preparation. His birth certificate was presumably in whatever alternate dimension his old man had blasted them out of.

“You are judging me for something, though,” he realized. The chill of the snow seeped into his bones, but he didn’t dare adjust his position. Somehow he felt that if he moved, she would disappear.

“I am not. I was only thinking about…” She sighed. “It is complicated. There was a time when I could have helped you, but it is long past.”

“Help me? Look, lady, the ‘dog stand is fine. Promise. Better than fine, since I don’t gotta pay taxes on it.”

She chuckled at that.

“Very well. Forgive a silly old lady for worrying.”

“Done.” He smiled, settling back against the door more comfortably.

He should’ve known she’d have a problem with his illegal activities, though. She was a classy lady, and he was… him. Why had he even brought it up? It wasn’t a great joke. Did he really just want her to know?

Eh, whatever. She wasn’t mad, so no harm done, right?

“I would like to know how you acquired this other chocolate, if it was not through your sticky fingers.” She sounded like she was grinning.

“Huh? Oh.” He blinked and dug out the last chocolate of the bunch. Blue dusted his cheeks. “QC—that’s the lady who runs the shop in town—gave ‘em to me for free. They’re called, uh, kisses.”

QC had a knowing look in her eyes when she’d offered the bag of chocolates to him. It was his own fault for implying they were for a girl. Everyone already thought he screwed around in the woods on his shifts, and with the way gossip travelled in a small town, everyone at Grillby’s would be asking about his girlfriend tonight.

“Kisses,” the lady behind the door echoed. “This is not one of your jokes, is it?”

“Not this time. Sorry to disappoint.” His grin felt too tight. “They’re, uh, tiny chocolates. Kinda cone-shaped? QC makes ‘em herself, so they’ve gotta be good.”

“Oh.” Oddly, the voice did sound disappointed. Sans couldn’t imagine why. Not like he could kiss her through the door, even if he had lips. And even if there was some unlikely timeline where she wanted a kiss from him.

He wanted to thump his skull back against the door, but there was no point in worrying her like that.

“In that case, I will take the kisses. They will be perfect for…”

He was sure she would leave it at that. Cover up with some non sequitur.

So his eyesockets went wide when she said, “for the anniversary of my child’s passing.”

“Oh.” He let out a strangled little laugh. “I—geez, I’m sorry. If I’d known—”

“You would have what? Spent even more money on this silly old lady, who cannot even leave to buy her child’s favorite chocolate?” Her voice was firm. “No. I thought you deserved to know, after the trouble you went to, and because you shared your own secret with me today.”

“My ‘dog stand is hardly a secret,” he said, still feeling a little shaky. She had a kid? A dead kid?

Well, who in the Underground didn’t have skeletons in their closet? Metaphorically or literally. She was still his best friend. If she wanted his pity, she would’ve said something sooner.

“Regardless,” she said. “It is in the past. Forget it, if you wish. But please do not treat me any differently.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said sincerely. If there was one thing he was good at, it was maintaining the status quo. “So, uh. These chocolates. I kind of wanted you to have all of ‘em, if that’s alright with you.”

“It would be rude to refuse a gift, would it not?” She sounded like she was smiling again, to his relief.

“There’s just one problem. Uh. Don’t think they’re all gonna fit under the door.” He rapped on the stone surface with his knuckle for emphasis.

“I did not assume they would. The recipe I gave you before hardly passed through.”

Sans blinked. “Then you—huh?”

“I will open the door just a fraction. It can only be done from the inside.” She paused, like she was gathering a breath. “I would ask that you do not look. I promise I will not peek, either.”

Sans’s ribcage tightened. She was going to open the door. She would be right there, with no stone between them.

The thought opened a desperate floodgate within him. He hadn’t realized just how badly he wanted to see her, to know her, to live off of more than just scraps and unfinished sentences.

She once had a child. She had some kind of beef against the King. She wanted to give charity to spiders, but didn’t have enough money. All these facts he filed away, tucking them into the grooves in his ribcage.

It would be enough. He’d duct tape those gates shut again, if he had to. He wasn’t going to betray the trust she’d shown him.

“Got it. You don’t wanna be smitten by my good looks, I understand,” he joked.

(He had a feeling it would be the other way around, if anything. Not that quality of jokes translated to quality of appearance—he would know. If it did, he’d have biceps like his brother.)

“It would be tragic. Much too high a price for you to handsome chocolate to me.”

“Heh, I’m sure you’re a door-able too. But I’ll keep my sockets shut, since our friendship hinges on it.”

That got a raucous laugh out of her, the kind that started off high-pitched and quickly became something of a snorting bleat. That sound was sweeter than chocolate to him.

...Man, his pals at Grilby’s would be right to dunk on him. He was a massive dork.

“Alright,” she said once she caught her breath, “if you are ready, my friend…”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “Better choco-late than never, huh?”

That one only got a snort, but he wasn’t sure if that was because the pun fell flat, or because she was nervous. As far as he knew, she hadn’t been outside of the Ruins in years. And here she was, trusting a sentry—someone whose job it was to keep a look out—to turn a blind eye.

It was a good thing he’d never been good at his job.

Stone ground against stone with a dramatic rumble. His eyesockets stayed shut. Warmth emanated from somewhere near his shoulder, and he lifted the bag of chocolates.

His small hand brushed a large fur-covered one. A shiver trailed down his spine. One small touch shouldn’t have done so much to him, but—but she was real. She was more than just a voice behind a door. Which he knew, but knowing and feeling could be worlds apart at times.

She took the bag, and the moment was over. But the door didn’t close.

“My dear friend,” she whispered, her voice sounding closer than ever. “Would it be presumptuous to ask another favor of you?”

“‘Course not. Glad to do a favor for my favor-ite person.” He kept his tone light, unaffected by the swirling emotions inside him.

“If I could… oh, dear, this is embarrassing.”

He resisted the urge to open his eyes, to see what look might be on her face.

“It has simply been so long… may I hold your hand a moment longer?”

He felt the marrow heating within his bones.

“That all? I gotta hand it to ya, you made me think you needed an arm and a leg.”

She chuckled before awkwardly fumbling to grasp his hand again.

Heat poured from her palm into his phalanges. Aside from the fur, there were several spots of soft skin—probably paw pads. Was she a dog monster, like the Canine Unit in town? She didn’t make nearly enough dog jokes for that to be the case. Her laugh sounded more like a goat’s, but she obviously didn’t have hooves. Maybe she was some kind of chimera? You didn’t see those often nowadays, but then again, no one saw monsters from the Ruins, either.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice as soft as the snow that began to drift around him.

“Not disappointed?” He asked, only half-joking. “My hand can’t be as comfy as yours.”

“Ah, but it is all your bone. And that is wonderful to me.”

“Geez, old lady.” He was grateful she couldn’t see his blush. “You’re pretty fur-fect yourself.”

When she laughed, her body shook all the way down to her hand. The feeling more than made up for all the G he’d spent on chocolate and donuts.

Suddenly his hand was being lifted up, and then something soft pressed against his knuckles. His soul flared erratically, and his eyes nearly flew open. If they had, he was sure his left eyelight would have been blue from shock.

“A kiss for a kiss,” she said slyly. “It is only fair.”

“Heh heh…” His voice shook with more than laughter. “Technically, that was one kiss for a bag of kisses. Pretty sure that math doesn’t square up.”

“Oh, you are quite right! One day we will have to circle back and rectify that.”

He practically had to cast gravity magic on himself to keep his eyes from flying open.

“You—huh?” He said intelligently.

“Perhaps not soon,” she clarified. “This has all been… a lot, for me. But thanks to you, my dear friend, this day has not been so bitter as I am used to.”

“Uh, no problem, then. With all that chocolate, I hope it’s sweet.”

Sweet as the anniversary of a death could be, anyway. He grimaced. Maybe that joke was too soon, but she just squeezed his hand before finally letting go.

“I do think it will be,” she said softly. “I will look forward to hearing more of your punny jokes tomorrow.”

The door scraped shut, and he hesitantly opened his eyes. He couldn't help inspecting the door to see if anything changed. Pressing his still-warm hand against the smooth stone.

“Heh. Good luck getting rid of me now.” He grinned.

Then he tucked his hands in his pockets, where her kiss remained like a tattoo on his bone.

#tali writes #safeutdr #soriel #sans #toriel #fic tag #very happy with how this one turned out :D #hope you like it and thanks for the request!#prompt requests

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nat-20s · 3 years ago

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Wonderful! Au Part 7! (also on ao3 here) another episode only installment, and obnoxiously fluffy! Have fun!

~*~

Martin, tired: Hello everybody! Welcome, or welcome back, to a very low energy episode. We have had, as the kids say, A Week Tm.

Jon, equally tired, but fond: Is that as the kids say?

Martin: I don't know, and perhaps worse, I don't really care. I guess I could ask Jeremiah next time he's over, but I'm not sure if that would actually help.

Jon: Shockingly, I don't think two year olds have their finger on the beating pulse of youth culture.

Martin: Hmm, maybe not. Speaking of Jeremiah, he's part of why the format of this episode is gonna be a bit different than our regular. On top of me dealing with a frankly obscene amount of inventory management, and Jon being swamped with grant writing-

Jon: I never want to look at proposal guidelines again-

Martin: we were on babysitting duty for our favourite neighborhood hellion-

Jon: Hey, Jeremiah is a very sweet kid! I know he's a toddler, but we shouldn't be slandering him anyway.

Martin: One, we're not even using his real name, I don't think that counts as slander, and two, exactly, he's a toddler, he's by default a hellion.

Jon, teasing: This coming from the person that actually wants one?

Martin: I..look, if anything, the last few days have shown we should not be permanent parents.

Jon: But?

Martin:...There's no but.

Jon: I don't believe you! Are you lying for my benefit or the audience's? Because someone spent the last five days wearing one of the largest grins I've ever seen, exhausted as it may have been.

Martin: Okay! Fine, I admit, I liked having a kid around. I still think it would be a bad idea to do it full time, but I dunno. I wish we weren't both only children or something. We would make such good uncles.

Jon: Should I should have taken that teaching job after all?

Martin: Perhaps. After all,

Martin, singsong: An English teacher, is really someone!

Jon and Martin, singing together: If only you, had be-come one!

Jon: Honestly, though, I was considerably underqualified. I'm much more suited to my current job, even if it doesn't have quite the same impact on the "shaping of the next generation" or whatnot.

Martin: Wait, you actually care about qualifications now? When did that change?

Jon: This coming from Mister "master's degree in parapsychology"? And it was probably around the time that the world ended from taking on a workload I was ill-suited for.

Jon:...

Jon: Metaphorically speaking, of course.

Martin: Oh, of course. Definitely nothing literally apocalyptic in our pasts, no siree, nothing to see or speculate about or make weirdly involved forums for here. Uh, anyway, long introduction not so short: Both of us have been averaging about 4 hours of sleep, so any sort of actual research was not on the table.

Jon: If any of you are wondering why we didn't just say that we're both very much worn out and thus we'll be taking a week off, it's because we're both deeply, deeply stubborn.

Martin: It's one of our best shared qualities that has never caused any conflict between us, ever.

Jon: In fairness, sheer stubbornness does account for, what, 75% of the reason that either of us are still alive? And it hasn't caused a major conflict between us in a good three years.

Martin: That's true. We've become a deeply boring, relatively conflict free couple. Which fucking rules, by the way. To all the couples out there: I highly recommend being boring. It is so nice. We've gotten to go to the farmer's market so many times.

Jon: You do love the farmer's market. I would say that it's the access to fresh produce, but I think you just like the attention that one yarn seller gives you. Can't believe you would take advantage of a crush to get discounts on wool. How did I marry such an opportunist?

Martin: Ollie does not have a crush on me. They're just friendly to everyone.

Jon: Bullshit. I certainly never get an extra skein or stitch markers or delicate fabric cleaner tossed in my bag. Actually, I think I've been charged more for committing the crime of having married you before they could.

Martin: I'm..70% sure that's not true, but every sentence we speak, we stray further from even pretending to be on topic. So, to everybody listening, this is the itty bitty episode! Basically, we're only doing small wonders and user submissions. If you want details or backstory for things we like, too bad, come back next week. Jon, I believe you're first this week?

Jon: Oh, right. My first small wonder is cat names.

Martin: Delightful, but unsurprising. Though, I would've expected either more or less specificity. Why cat names as opposed to pet's names in general, or, like, military title names?

Jon: Well that's simple enough. I've simply never met a misnamed cat, even if the name itself wasn't to my personal tastes, and I think that speaks to the wonderful universality of cats.

Martin: This, of course, implies that you have met animals that were misnamed.

Jon: Oh, I have. I once met a papillion dog named Meatball.

Martin: Now I know you don't like food names in general for pets, but are you sure that Meatball didn't suit the dogs personality? I've known some "Meatballs" in my lifetime.

Jon, only half-mock offended: Of course it didn't fit, Martin. She was a lady. A nervous, jittery lady, but a lady nonetheless.

Martin, laughing: And what, you've never met a dignified cat with an undignified name, or vice versa? Would you be okay with our cat being named Meatball?

Jon: I would be upset if our cat was named Meatball, because we named her and we're above that sort of thing, but, technically speaking, she could have been Meatball in another lifetime and it wouldn't have been wrong. You see, all cats are a mix of both extremely austere and little baby idiot.

Martin: Oh, is that the scientific terminology?

Jon: It is. Now, while there's probably some amount of, er, normative determinism or confirmation bias or something that results in a cat with a more dignified name seeming to possess more of that austerity, as all cats have both, any name can, potentially, fit. Hence why it's wonderful.

Martin: I..accept your proposal for now, but I think more research needs to be done. Maybe we should visit the shelter this weekend and test your hypothesis.

Jon: Hmm. I think we may need to visit multiple shelters, actually. A large sample size is necessary for any sort of veracity, obviously.

Martin, imitating Jon tone: Obviously.

Jon: Glad you agree. What's your first small wonder?

Martin: Tofu!

Jon: I..didn't realize you liked that much?

Martin: Well, I don't get it very often since I know you can't stand the texture, even though it is not like 'worse scrambled eggs', and you're a horrible food thief-

Jon: Lies and slander. We readily share. If I'm a horrible food thief, you have committed the exact same, if not worse, crime as myself.

Martin: Well, we are thick as thieves.

Jon, groaning: You're thick as something alright

Martin: Rude! My beloved husband-

Jon: -uh huh-

Martin: whom I love and trust with my most tender of hearts-

Jon: -an oddly cannibalistic turn of phrase-

Martin, badly suppressing laughter: Oh, my god. I want a divorce, then I can put tofu in as many dishes as I like. I'll triple my protein intake.

Jon: It'd never go through. I'll burn the papers. No, wait, I'll burn down the legal offices where the papers are kept.

Martin: Hmm. While my experiences with it have been, uh, varied to say the least, I do have to admit that arson is one of the more attractive crimes of passion. I suppose I'll take you back.

Jon, flat: I'm so very grateful.

Jon, genuine: You do have yet to actually tell me why you think tofu is wonderful, love.

Martin: It's just a good food! It's neutral enough that you can toss it in pretty much anything with a sauce, you can bake it, you can fry it, whatever. Plus it's what? two? Three quid? I spent many years of my life living off the cheapest, saltiest approximation of noodles you could imagine, and half a pack of tofu, a little bit of sesame oil, and some green onions went a long way to both making it more filling and less sad.

Martin: Plus, I feel like it often gets decried for being something it's not? It's so often viewed as a meat substitute or the vegan alternative option, and so when people try it, they often go in with a false preconceived notion of what it's going to be like, and then end up disappointed. They're all like, 'ugh, this doesn't taste like turkey!' and yeah, of course it doesn't. It's the oatmeal raisin cookie of the protein world, a perfectly good and tasty treat on its own, but if you want chocolate chip, it's not gonna work.

Jon: Martin you don't even like oatmeal raisin. I'm the only one that ever eats them out of the multipacks.

Martin: Well, yeah, but I don't like oatmeal raisin because of its flavor, not because I think it should be chocolate chip and fails. It illustrates my point. Also, just for balance, is your next small wonder oatmeal raisin cookies?

Jon: No, though, maybe one of these weeks. They are good. But no, um, my next small wonder is being married.

Martin, let out a high bark of a laugh: Being married is a small wonder?!

Jon: Small wonders doesn't mean a lack of importance! Or even significance in our lives. Half the time we even end up spending just as much time chattering on about them as the things we actually research. But, yes, I didn't feel like researching the concept of being married. For one, a lot of the history of it is depressing and patriarchal, and for two, it's not something I really feel any need to elaborate on. Being married. I very much enjoy it. I recommend it for anybody that's found someone that they want to marry, and who wants to marry them. I really recommend being married to Martin Blackwood, I think I would enjoy it significantly less if it was to anybody else, but one: we typically try to make the wonderful things in this show applicable to more than just ourselves, and two: I got there first, so I believe the appropriate thing to say here would be; neener neener and/or everyone else can go suck it, Ollie.

Martin: Well...

Jon: Well, what?

Martin: Saying you got there first is technically not true-

Jon: What?!

Martin, laughing like a bastard: Sorry, sorry! Couldn't resist! Jon, you already know that you're my first real realationship, how would be married before fit that?

Jon: Hence my surprise at the notion! I cannot believe you! I give you my trust, my earnestness, and belief-

Martin [only laughs harder]

Jon: and you throw it in my face for a bit. I take back everything, being married is a nightmare, because sometimes your partner thinks he a fucking comedian and you just have to put up with him because you love him and want to live the rest of your life with him or some such nonsense. Not worth it, if you ask me. My turn to ask for the divorce.

Martin: Babe, hate to break it to you, but both of us are guilty of doing bits that the other doesn't like, it's an integral part of a healthy marriage, and secondly, you knew who I was long before I proposed. You should've said no when you had the chance.

Jon: Hang on, you proposed?

Martin: Yeah? This isn't part of a bit, of course I proposed. I'm even pretty sure you were there. The whole visit back to Scotland trip? I finally made you a sweater and said it was because we would now be immune to the boyfriend curse?

Jon: No, no, I remember all that, but it wasn't the proposal. It was a reaffirmation of the proposal. We had already decided to get married.

Martin: Well, yeah,, I wasn't just gonna spring that on you, we had had conversations beforehand-

Jon: No, I mean, I had already proposed. I asked you to marry me a good three years earlier, and you said yes, which is a proposal by any definition that I know.

Martin: Jon, love, darling, apple of my eye, fire of my soul, I mean this in the nicest way possible, what the everloving fuck are you talking about?

Jon: In the ambulance ride when we, uh, moved here. It was the thing I said to you the second I saw your eyes were open.

[An audible pause is left in the recording.]

Martin: That does not count.

Jon: How does it not count?! I asked you to marry me, you very emphatically said yes, that's the de facto definition of an accepted marriage proposal!

Martin: It doesn't count because you were half-delirious with blood-loss, and I had a traumatic brain injury that the hospital was very surprised I made a full recovery from. No court in the world would consider anything we said then more than pain driven ramblings, let alone, I dunno, contractually binding.

Jon: Well, I knew what I was saying well and clear. Just because it was desperate doesn't mean it wasn't sincere. I didn't realize that you weren't as cognizant when you accepted.

Martin, snorting: Yeah, didn't really need to be cognizant to say yes. I've wanted to marry you since the train ride to Scotland.

Jon: Wait, really? Martin, we hadn't even been on a date.

Martin: And yet we were on the lamb together, which I honestly think is more romantic than sitting in some restaurant somewhere trying to get through icebreakers. Also, back up, from your perspective we've been engaged since 2019? What did you think we were doing in the interim?

Jon: Uhh..

Martin: Yes?

Jon: There are people that have long engagement periods, and it's not exactly like we were in any sort of position to get married for awhile. Especially not that first year.

Martin: Okay? And?

Jon: And..I sort of thought you had changed your mind. For awhile. Was rather surprised that you kept living with me, considering that, on the worst nights, I was convinced you were going to storm off and leave me forever any minute now. Hence why your proposal was rather relieving.

Martin: Oh, Jon, love. That is so very ridiculous, and so very you, and so very close to many of my own fears and doubts. Do you have any idea how terrified I was to float the idea of marriage to you? Half the time I was convinced I was just meant to keep you company until you found someone better. And, Christ, we'd, from your perspective, been engaged the whole damn time. Fuck.

[Jon, after a beat, starts laughing. It has a slightly hysterical edge to it. Martin joins in. It takes a minute for the laughter to subside enough for them to speak again.]

Jon: I'm rapidly realizing that our entire romantic relationship would've been, if not more successful, a hell of a lot faster if we weren't both complete fools.

Martin: You're realizing that now? I think I've known that since the CV incident. I've definitely known it since the Lonely.

Jon, with a slightly tired chuckle:Yes, yes, something probably should've tipped me off earlier. Shockingly, observation of our own personal romantic trends is not always a strong suit of mine.

Jon: Anyway, please tell me you have another small wonder, this has gotten wildly of track.

Martin: Since we're talking about marriage anyway, I think my next small wonder is having a shared reference in your wedding vows. Our friends had "I have been, and always shall be, your friend" in theirs, and I made Jon cry with a slightly altered Lord of the Rings quote in ours.

Jon: First off, we were both openly weeping long before that point, secondly, I defy anybody to have been through half of what we have and then have the love of their life look them in the eyes and tell them "Leave you? I never intend to. I am going with you, if you climb to the moon" without at least tearing up.

Martin: There wasn't a dry eye in the audience, either. Granted, the audience was only 20 people, but that was also literally the only time I've seen Eloise show a strong emotion, so I'm pretty smug about it.

Martin, soft: I still feel exactly the same, you know. If you're climbing to the moon, I'll make sure the rope is strong enough for two.

Jon, soft: I know, love.

Jon: Though, to be fair, the moon is also significantly more pleasant than many places we've been.

Martin: God, I hate how much that's true. Look at this barren, oxygenless rock, at least it's not actively trying to kill us. Practically a honeymoon location.

[Martin sighs]

Martin: I am so tired. Let's do the user submissions then take a very long nap.

Jon: Please.

Martin: So, first submission is from Josie; They find it wonderful getting cards from their friends. They say they're lucky to have so much love in their life and have friends that care enough to send them things. That is wonderful Josie! We have a drawer in our house dedicated to every loving card we've ever received since the move, and they're always such a nice reminder of the people in our lives.

Jon: We should really organize that drawer, but, yes, agree with the sentiment. Even the cards from people that are no longer in our lives are lovely, I think. Those connections are very much meaningful for both of us, whether they're active or not.

Martin: That's very true. Next submission is from Lys, who submits the sound of leaves crunching under your feet in the fall. Ah, that's a classic.

Jon: I just felt myself relax imagining it. I wish it was autumn.

Martin: Don't we all? Alright, for the last submissions, I'm grouping them together as they follow a similar theme. Jadwiga submits the feeling of waking up well into the morning with the sun shining through the window and your cat laying next to you, and Oran submits when a dog falls asleep with its head in your lap.

Jon: I can heartily recommend at least one of those, considering that's how we try to wake up most mornings. The Duchess is a dutiful darling girl who spends every night with us, and she's usually still there when us humans rise.

Martin: I bet you'll agree with the other when I finally convince you to get me a dog for my birthday.

Jon: It hasn't happened yet, so I wouldn't hold your breath.

Martin: But you don't even dislike dogs! You're just as happy to pet them when they pass by as I am.

Jon: Being fine with an animal isn't the same thing as wanting to adopt one for yourself! We don't even know if The Duchess would put up with a dog.

Martin: I bet she would. I bet we could get a big senior dog who's the calmest animal you've ever met with those soft eyes and a little grey on the muzzle and she would cuddle up in an instant. And we did say we should visit a shelter or three this weekend..

Jon: I think you're rather callously taking advantage of my exhausted state, but I suppose we can look.

Martin: Hell fuckin yeah. So, I think that'll close out the episode, and as we always say at the end, uh, go take a nap and get a dog. Not necessarily in that order.

#wonderful! au #jonmartin #tma #jon sims #martin blackwood #my fic #thank you to everyone that submitted!!!#also; i am offically out of ideas for installments #more may come later but i make no promises!

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little-mad · 3 years ago

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Downsides of Thievery Pt. 12

~ Previous Part ~ Next Part ~

Gavin felt completely emotionally drained. Between being insulted by Ashryn and threatened by Rael, all he really wanted to do was crawl into a hole and hide from the world for a little while. There was no part of him that was ready to face the alteon Emperor--to be judged and sentenced. Gavin wasn’t even sure he had the energy to plead his case at this point.

As much as he just wanted to run away, there was no escape for the human. He was trapped on top of a gigantic desk. The massive items nearby almost seemed to taunt him, reminding him of how small and insignificant he was in this dimension. “You’re pathetic,” the quill sitting in its inkwell a few feet away seemed to say. “You’re all alone,” Gavin imagined a massive roll of parchment sneer.

“Great, I’ve sunk so low I’m starting to imagine inanimate objects talking to me,” Gavin thought bitterly to himself.

Meanwhile, the alteon Emperor loomed over the human like some kind of divine monument. The man almost looked ethereal, as if he walked straight out of a storybook. His skin, which appeared nearly flawless, was of a cool brown color. He shared Rael’s long black hair, but rather than tying it back, the Emperor wore his down, with a few strands done into intricate braids. As seemed to be the case with all alteons, the Emperor’s eyes were of a striking, vibrant color. Those yellow irises were focused in on Gavin, holding him in their intense stare.

In terms of dress, the Emperor certainly looked the part. He wore a jeweled band around his head that appeared to be made of silver--which matched the metal that made up the leaf shaped earring that hung from one of his pointed ears.

With the Emperor sitting at his desk, it was impossible for Gavin to see a majority of the man’s apparel, but what he could see looked incredibly lavish. The tunic was of a deep blue color and was decorated with silver embellishments along the hemlines. No doubt the garment was made of silk or some other similar luxurious fabric.

“We have much to discuss,” the Emperor began as he looked down at Gavin. “But first, I believe introductions are in order.” There was no hostility in the man’s voice. Unlike with Ashryn, Gavin didn’t detect anything disdainful or accustatory in his tone. Instead, the Emperor seemed perfectly calm and polite; he even wanted to engage in civil greetings. “My name is Ailred. I am the son of Lyris, and the Emperor of Iaela,” he announced smoothly, the words clearly ones he had said many times.

Considering both Rael and the Emperor had introduced themselves without surnames, Gavin had to assume alteon’s didn’t utilize them in the same way many human cultures did. The Emperor had presented himself as the son of “Lyris” though, something Rael had not done. Were he in a better mental state, Gavin may have pondered why that might be, but given the circumstances he would just accept it and move on.

It took a long moment of Gavin just standing there frozen, shifting uncomfortably under the Emperor’s silent stare, before he figured out he was expected to say something. “He wants me to introduce myself,” he realized.

How the hell was he supposed to get himself to speak? This was maybe the very first time Gavin had zero desire to say anything. He didn’t trust himself anymore. The last time he’d opened his big mouth, he’d ended up with a giant hand slammed down beside him. Now imagine the consequences that could await him if he said the wrong thing to a damn Emperor.

At the same time, remaining silent was hardly an option either. Refusing to comply with the Emperor’s wishes could just as easily have frightening repercussions. Gavin really and truly was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

After a few seconds of internal panicking and frenzied thinking, Gavin spoke up. “My name is Gavin--uh Gavin Stone,” he managed to spit out. He tried to force himself to maintain eye contact with the Emperor, but every fiber of his being was begging him to look away from that intimidating gaze.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Gavin Stone,” the Emperor replied, giving Gavin a nod of greeting before turning his attention beyond him. “Rael, I trust you encountered no issues in retrieving Mr. Stone?” he inquired, reminding Gavin of the fact that his former captor remained in the room, just a few yards away.

“There was no trouble from the humans, your majesty; however I did run into some brigands in the woods who attempted to abduct the prisoner,” Gavin heard Rael explain from behind him. “The offenders did manage to escape, and for that I offer my sincerest apologies.” God, Rael almost sounded like a different person when he spoke to the Emperor. Not that Gavin had any real grasp on what kind of person Rael was. He’d learned that the hard way.

A frown developed on the Emperor’s face. “You did your duty in protecting the human,” he began. “What I’m more concerned with is the fact that these criminals were bold enough to attempt to interfere with Imperial business.”

“Greed can drive you to do some pretty stupid shit,” Gavin thought to himself bitterly.

After a moment of silent contemplation, the Emperor sighed. “I suppose we’ll need to increase the number of patrols in the surrounding woods,” he concluded. “I’ll also have you meet with Captain Saida later to coordinate a search for these would-be abductors.”

If Kaydin and his female associate were smart, they would already be getting as far away from the palace as possible. Gavin could tell the Emperor was serious about this, so if the two thugs didn’t get some major distance from the scene of the crime, there was probably a high likelihood they’d wind up getting caught.

“Now,” Gavin instantly felt the intensity of the Emperor’s gaze return to him, “you are here because you were caught stealing from an alteon diplomat while they were visiting the human realm, correct?”

Suddenly Gavin felt like he was back in elementary school, being forced to answer questions the principal already knew the answer to. The Emperor already knew what the human in front of him had done, and yet he wanted to see Gavin admit to it himself.

Biting back an exasperated sigh, Gavin gave a nod of confirmation.

“And you understand that because your crime was against an alteon, you were brought here to face judgement?” the Emperor inquired, continuing to watch Gavin with those hypnotizing yellow eyes.

Gavin nodded again. He knew he wouldn’t be able to get away with giving non-verbal responses forever, but he wanted to avoid it for as long as possible. Not only because he didn’t trust himself not to say the wrong thing, but also because he wasn’t sure how he was meant to refer to the Emperor. Rael had called him “your majesty” earlier, but the idea of saying something like that sounded so strange to Gavin.

“I realize as a human you are unfamiliar with alteon customs, so allow me to explain the situation,” the Emperor started. “Typically, when I am called to judge a criminal, it is done as an official trial in which nobles and all involved parties are present.”

Gavin supposed that wasn’t altogether different from the trials back home. Of course, rather than having a jury of his peers, Gavin would be judged by the Emperor and the Emperor alone.

“However,” the giant monarch continued, “because you are human, the circumstances are different. I believe a large-scale event would do more harm than good in the long run,” he explained, folding his hands atop the desk. Gavin tried not to focus on them for long, because he and giant hands really weren’t on good terms.

While he was glad to hear he wouldn’t be subjected to some grandiose trial in which he’d be trapped in a room full of a bunch of alteons staring at him, Gavin wasn’t entirely sure alternatives would bode any better. If the Emperor had no one around to criticize his decision, he could be as cruel as he wanted.

“In the meeting which preceded this one, I discussed with my advisors various potential sentences,” the Emperor went on. “I also requested input from Ashryn, as he has some experience interacting with humans,” he added, looking at Rael when he said it.

Gavin suppressed a scowl. He was sure any input from Ashryn had been exceedingly negative. For whatever reason, the guy had it out for him--or maybe he just had it out for all humans in general for some reason.

“Ashryn’s position on the matter was that you need to be made an example of,” the Emperor stated, quickly erasing any doubt that that asshole had a vendetta against humankind. “His suggestion was that you be made a spectacle of, perhaps by placing you in a cage and displaying you in the front hall for visiting nobles and the like to view.”

An instant feeling of nausea came over Gavin. He felt absolutely sick to his stomach. Ashryn was beyond just a dick, he had to be some sort of sadistic demon. The suggestion that a living, breathing, intelligent creature be caged and put on show like some kind of zoo animal was abhorrent. Gavin could hardly even believe what he was hearing.

“Your majesty, forgive me, but doesn’t that seem a bit excessive?” Gavin heard Rael ask incredulously. What was with that guy? Not ten minutes ago he was yelling at Gavin and standing up for his alteon soldier buddy. Now all of a sudden he supposedly cared about what happened to Gavin? It just didn’t make any sense.

The Emperor gave a small shrug. “I don’t know, some of my advisors seemed to like that idea. They believe that if Gavin Stone isn’t properly made an example of, then more and more humans will think they can get away with crossing alteons.”

What was Gavin supposed to do? Should he try to stand up for himself, to excuse what he’d done? Would it even matter? He had committed the crime, that much was fact. So would any excuses even make a difference? He tried to read the Emperor’s face, to look for some kind of sign that he would be understanding, but the man had an expression that was virtually unreadable. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

Of course, of course Ashryn would advocate for some cruel, antiquated punishment for Gavin. It was obvious the guy had some inexplicable resentment towards humans, certainly more than Rael had ever had. He’d been of the opinion that they were inferior, fairly irritating creatures, but never would have gone out of his way to ensure they suffer. Ashryn, on the other hand, seemed eager to see Gavin endure the worst.

And what was worse? The Emperor hadn’t immediately dismissed Ashryn’s suggestion. How could he even consider it? Surely he would never subject even the worst alteon criminal to the humiliation and indignity that would come from being locked in a cage and put on display. Yes Gavin was human, but he was still an intelligent, sentient being. He didn’t deserve to be treated like an attraction.

But what could Rael do? He was in no position to question the Emperor; doing so would be suicide for the reputation he’d worked so hard to achieve. He had to wonder whether the information that Gavin had in fact been hired to steal from the diplomat would impact the Emperor’s decision.

Gavin himself seemed pretty convinced that that bit of information wouldn’t change anything, so it was doubtful that he’d speak up about it. Rael wasn’t convinced. Surely if the Emperor knew Gavin had just been used by somebody else, he would be less harsh with the punishment he issued.

Rael couldn’t speak up about it. He had already taken a great risk with his previous comment. Continuing to speak out of turn in favor of a human criminal could end up reflecting horribly on him. The Emperor may begin to question his loyalty. Rael couldn’t put that all on the line for the sake of a human of all people...right?

The memory of Gavin’s fear-stricken face flashed through Rael’s mind. He cringed internally at the mental image. Gavin had clearly had some level of trust in him, the look of betrayal he’d worn made that much evident. When Rael had used his far greater size and strength to scare the human into submission, he’d shattered any trust that may have developed between them. He had taken the side of Ashryn, someone he hated, rather than risk his status by standing up for Gavin.

Yes, what Rael had done had been the right thing to ensure his reputation remained in good standing. But if it had been the right thing to do, then why did Rael feel so miserable about it?

“If you have something to say on the matter, you have my permission to speak up,” the Emperor told Rael, clearly sensing his hesitation.

“I can’t say anything, I’ve worked too hard to get where I am to risk it for some human!” one part of Rael’s mind insisted, but he was finding that voice was quickly becoming quieter and quieter.

While it was difficult for him to believe he could make such a profound difference, Rael couldn’t help but worry that what he said next could seal Gavin’s fate one way or the other. The Emperor was watching, waiting for a response. Rael had to make up his mind. “Yes, your majesty. I have information concerning Lady Elyth’s stolen ring.”

#g/t #giant/tiny #g/t writing #my writing #oc: gavin stone #oc: rael #jsyk im going to moving to a new apartment in the next couple days #so the next part may take a little bit longer than usual

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engie-ivy · 4 years ago

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Receiving a love confession from Sirius Black is probably the dream of almost every student at Hogwarts. Remus just whishes Sirius would move on, but you should be careful what you wish for...

Don't worry, it's a short, fluffy Wolfstar get-together. Lily knows about Remus’ Furry Little Problem in this.

How do you feel about Sirius Black?

“I swear to Merlin, if Gina Simmons looks at me like that one more time, I’m gonna give her something to be mad about,” Lily grumbles, her eyes flaming with anger.

Gina Simmons, who had been glaring in their direction, quickly turns her head as Remus looks over his shoulder. She whispers something to Beth Walker and Davey Martens, who both glare at Lily and Remus as well.

Remus sighs. “Is it always like this?”

Lily’s expression softens. “It gets less,” she says. “But there’s this persistent group that just can’t get over it. This morning, I heard Rosemary Rowle call me ‘an entitled bitch who thinks she’s too good for James Potter’. Rosemary Rowle! The girl who can’t finish a sentence without mentioning her ‘daddy, who has such an important job at the Ministry’ calling me entitled!” The angry expression is back and she clenches her quill so hard Remus worries she’s gonna break the thing.

Remus frowns. “I overheard Randall Thorne ask Jules Flemming whether he reckoned I thought I could do better, and during Potions Kirsten Pembroke threw a vial of Armadillo bile over me!”

Lily winces. “I’m sorry. I should’ve warned you to stay away from Kirsten Pembroke if she has throwable substances within reach.”

“I just don’t understand what their problem is,” Remus mutters.

Lily smiles ruefully. “You’re now officially part of the club of people who have committed the atrocious crime of rejecting the school’s most popular and beloved students, Potter and Black. With you joining, our member count is now a total of two.”

“But that’s the thing! I rejected him,” Remus says. “Nothing’s changed. They can go on writing Mrs or Mr Black on their notebooks for all I care.”

“Oh Remus,” Lily sighs wistfully. “To be so naive. I’ve rejected Potter about fifteen times now, and they still won’t forgive me for him apparently choosing me over them. Of course, in my case it doesn’t help that Potter still refers to himself as the future Mr Evans,” Lily adds with a grimace.

“It just doesn’t make sense,” Remus says, shaking his head. “They should be thankful I don’t return his feelings!”

“Well, first of all, you saying no to Black doesn’t chance the fact that he’s head over heels in love with you. Not immediately, at least. So he’s still just as unavailable to them. And more importantly, in their eyes you were given the greatest gift that can be bestowed upon a man or woman: a full-blown love confession by Sirius Black.” Lily rolls her eyes while speaking. “And the fact that you didn’t even appreciate it, just makes it worse.”

“I never asked for-”

“I know, Remus, I know. I’m just explaining how they see it. You and I are the horrible people who had the audacity to break their heartthrobs Potter and Black’s hearts.”

Remus groans. “I whish Sirius would see how ridiculous it is for him to be in love with someone like me.”

“Remus,” Lily says in a dangerous tone.

Remus ignores her. “I whish he’d just move on. I whish he’d date someone else, so they’ll have no reason to pester me anymore!”

Remus is writing his essay. Frantically. Or rather, furiously. Pressing hard on his quill while scribbling in angry, fast strokes, a pile of broken quills already forming next to his parchment.

“Did that essay murder your family?” Lily asks, as she sits down in front of Remus. “I honestly thought you’d be in a good mood.”

Remus looks up at her, a sulky expression on his face. “So you’ve heard?”

“Heard?” Lily asks. “I’ve orchestrated the whole thing!”

Remus gives her a confused look, so Lily elaborates.

“After our last conversation, I went up to Black and I just told him ‘oi, the whole school knows about your unrequited love for Remus, and some twats are giving him a really hard time about it, so if you could just take someone on a date to Hogsmeade this Saturday so they’ll stop pestering Remus, that’ll be great’. And he agreed!”

Remus just blinks at her.

Lily frowns. “That’s what you wanted, right?”

“Yes!” Remus says a little too quickly. “I just... don’t get why he’d ask Alyssa MacMillan. She’s rather dull, don’t you think?”

Lily shrugs. “She’s nice enough, but more importantly, she thinks Black is fit and would love to go out with him, but she’s got no real feelings for him and isn’t looking for a relationship, so she won’t mind just drawing people’s attention away from you, or draw his attention away from you, for that matter.”

“Right,” Remus says. “Guess I just didn’t think she’s his type, is all.”

“Who knows,” Lily smiles mischievously. “It could become some kind of Fake Dating, Friends to Lovers scenario, and they might fall in love for real! Then your problem is solved for good.”

Remus looks at her like she just told him puppies have gone extinct.

“Merlin, Remus. What is it? Is this some kind of ‘I don’t want him, but I don’t want anybody else to have him either’ thing? Because that’s really shitty!”

“No,” Remus says defensively. “No, that’s not it. I just think Sirius can do better than Alyssa MacMillan, but if that’s what he likes, than good for him.”

“Oh, for Godric’s sake, you’re jealous!”

“No, I’m not! Or at least, I don’t think I am. Am I?”

Lily folds her arms over her chest and stares at Remus intently. “Remus Lupin, do you have feelings for Sirius Black?”

“I... I don’t know,” Remus looks quite miserable. “I mean, I’ve never thought about it.”

“Never thought about it?” Lily exclaims. “How do you mean, never thought about it? Do you remember that evening when Black took you out on a moonlit walk by the Great Lake, and poured his heart out to you, saying how he’s been crazy in love with you since the beginning of fifth year, and asked if you wanted to go on a date with him, to which you answered no? That would’ve been the moment to think about it!”

“It’s just...” Remus anxiously runs a hand through his hair. “With my condition, romantic relationships simply are not an option. I always saw romance as one part of being a teenager I didn’t have to concern myself with. I guess I just started to automatically ignore all thoughts and feelings related to romantic relationships. When Sirius made that confession, I was shocked, and the only thing I could think was ‘no, he can’t, he shouldn’t. I don’t do romance. I have to put an end to this immediately’. I never considered my own feelings. I mean, why would I?”

“Well, that’s a load of crap,” Lily scolds.

Remus opens his mouth to protest, but Lily cuts off whatever he was going to say.

“Not that you thought all of that, I believe you did, but that you can’t have romantic relationships with your condition is nonsense.”

“It’s never been done,” Remus argues.

“If no one ever did anything that’s never been done, we’d still be living in caves,” Lily firmly replies.

Remus fiddles with the hem of his sweater. “You really think it’s possible?”

“I don’t think it’s possible, I know it’s possible. So now we have established that, how do you feel about Sirius Black?”

“I’ve never thought-”

“Well, think about it now!”

“I don’t know,” Remus says, staring at the table. “Of course I think he’s attractive, but that doesn’t mean anything except that I have eyes. I mean, who doesn’t think he’s attractive? With that hair and those eyes... And I have even more reason, sharing a dorm with him. I see him when he comes out of the shower wearing just a towel, sweet mother of Merlin...”

Lily waits patiently for Remus to finish daydreaming.

Remus shakes himself out of his daze. “And of course I like him as a person. I wouldn’t have been friends with him all these years if I didn’t like him as a person. And what’s not to like? He’s clever, funny and brave, but he also has this really sweet side, you know? A side he doesn’t show much, and I guess it makes me feel special that he does show it around me. He always makes me feel special. It’s kind of weird, actually. He makes me feel special, but at the same time he makes me feel like I can just be myself, and that’s enough. I feel comfortable around him, and I suppose I do prefer his company above anyone else’s. Even on those moments when I normally don’t want to see anyone, he’s the only one I prefer being with over being alone. And when he’s not around I often find myself thinking about him. Now that I think about, I think about him almost all the time...”

Remus trails of and looks at Lily with wide eyes. Lily just nods.

“Oh Merlin,” Remus groans, hiding his face in his hands.

“Remus, Remus, Remus,” Lily sighs. “You’re so lucky to have me as a friend. Here’s what you’re going to do...”

“Padfoot?”

Sirius whirls around, and grins at Remus. Remus can tell he’s trying to act like everything’s normal between them, but he can also tell that his grin is somewhat forced and there’s a hint of pain in his eyes.

“Wotcher, Moony.”

“I wanted to talk to you,” Remus says.

The grin fades from Sirius’ face, and he runs a hand through his hair. “Ah, yeah, Evans told me about those people that’ve been bothering you. I’m really sorry, Moony. If I had known...”

“It’s not your fault,” Remus says.

“I know you feel uncomfortable about my feelings for you.” There’s a sadness in Sirius’ voice. “I won’t mention it again. I never meant to make you uncomfortable. If I could change it, I would, but being in love with you has become such a big part of me, and it’s not something I can just stop. Turns out, you’re a very hard person to not be in love with.”

“I don’t want you to not be in love with me!” Remus says.

Sirius frowns. “You like having me hopelessly pine after you that much?” He looks slightly hurt.

“No,” Remus says quickly. “No, I just think I might have been... too hasty in rejecting you?”

“Moony,” Sirius sighs. “You have every right to reject me. You don’t have to try and force yourself into feeling something you don’t, just because you pity me, or some stupid twats think they can judge you.”

“I rejected you because I didn’t think you should be with...” Remus gestures vaguely at himself. “Well, with someone like me. It only occurred to me recently, very recently, that I never even considered whether I have feelings for you.”

“And do you...”

“I do.”

“Oh.”

“Oh indeed.”

Sirius lets out a nervous chuckle. “So do you want to-”

“No!”

Sirius blinks in confusion. Remus quickly tries to clarify.

“I mean, no, you already asked me last time, this time I want to ask you.”

Sirius mutters something under his breath about a bloody emotional roller-coaster. Remus continues.

“I already talked to Alyssa MacMillan, and she told me to ‘go get my man’, so since you’re now free this Saturday, would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me, as in a date?”

Sirius’ face lights up in a smile so beautiful it makes Remus a little dizzy. “I’d absolutely love to!”

#my tumblr writing #wolfstar #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar fic #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius #lily evans #wolfstar fluff

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atsukashii · 3 years ago

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ii. thus always to tyrants

✗ synopsis : imprisoned for a crime you did not commit, you are left shackled in the dark away from the world. vowing to end the queen who dealt your life sentence, you bide your time waiting for your chance to end it all. However, a promise of freedom comes on a whisper in the shadows, taking the form of dark eyes, and grey wind swept hair carrying the scent of the sea.

✗ pairing : osamu miya x reader

✗ genre : pirate au, royalty reader, mutual pining, fluff + a pinch of angst

✗ word count : 4.9 k

✗ warnings : mature content : mentions of alcohol, language, implied murder

✧･ﾟ:* previous | m.list | next *:･ﾟ✧

Osamu never liked sitting still.

Ever since he were a child, there was always some part of him that was physically constantly in motion. A tick of sorts that he was admonished for a long time ago, fused deeper into his bones as he grew until the simple act of being somewhere for a prolonged period of time made him uneasy.

And the fact they had been sitting off the east coast of a glitzy harbour in the southern kingdom of Fukurodani for over two weeks had Osamu more agitated than he would ever care to admit. And it definitely had nothing to do with the imminent threat of the corrupt nation across the narrow sea. In the beginning, being moored off the coast of such a rich city had its benefits to him. The first night, he and his brother had got rip-roaring drunk and had to have their carcasses dragged back to the ship by their crew. After getting a lackluster and pathetic attempt at a lecture from their captain who, in their defense, never said not to do it again, Osamu had the common sense to drag their entire crew out for an evening. One which ended in him having to row their drunk asses back to the boat. Some would say it was karma, but it was definitely luck that he just happened to be the least drunk.

During the days of their anchorage, Osamu meticulously searched the city markets for any news on the world outside, and sought out anything that caught his interest; star charts, swords, females, not in that particular order and the latter mainly was him being dragged into his twin’s antics.

But now, his restlessness was dragging him from sleep in the earliest hours of the morning. Far before dawn would break, one could find Osamu prowling the deck like a caged beast. He’d tried sleeping tonics, ale, and even trying to bore himself into slumber by listening to his brother drone on about pointless things. So after many failed attempts, Osamu had begun to use the time to make himself more useful to his crew, slouching over his hand drawn maps, star charts, plotting courses and venturing the glamouring capital city for anything alarming or interesting.

No one brought up his restlessness, more out of fear of being mortally wounded - besides the one person on the damn ship who made his life a rutting nightmare. But no matter the agitation rolling off him like the waves lulling the ship, they went unnoticed by the one person in charge.

Kita Shinsuke - the captain of the Nine Tails had rules that not even the most restless of souls could change. The most blindingly logical being that he wanted even a sliver of an idea of where the hell they were going next before they set sail so they could use the advantage of being in such proximity to a harbour offering such goods to their benefit. Because depending on whatever crap the silent, ill carcass of a man currently locked in the hold finally let slip would no doubt have them not seeing occupied land and civilized society for a while yet. And that was if and only if everything went to plan.

Which really, Osamu could only hope for.

“Rutting mother,” The groaned curse has Osamu’s eyes drifting up off the map that covers the entire surface of the dishevelled wooden desk in his shared quarters. Leveling the incomer a look of indifference, Osamu isn’t entirely surprised by who barged into his quiet announced by nothing but a filthy curse.

“Yer looking like shit ‘Samu. Yer need to get out into the sun and stop being cooped up in ‘ere,” The voice of the other resident in his quarters says with a feral grin that matches his own. In fact, a lot of him matches Osamu, including the wild gleam in his eyes, his nose and his damned face.

“If ya ain’t got news that we’re headed out of this shitty cove, I don’t wanna see yer face ‘Tsumu,” Osamu simply deadpans, looking back down at the map and not giving his twin brother anymore attention. Instead, Osamu’s eyes gaze over the many coal crosses marked across the large map. Drawn by none other than himself, they stood as symbols from their voyages over the years, the more recent resulting in nothing but dead ends. Because it had been years since he and his brother had been dragged from the fighting rings in the depths of Inarizaki’s slums and put to work under their captain’s command. They’d been barely adults, and Kita not much older, but they’d sworn an oath to the man when he’d promised them nothing but a roof over their heads, warm meals when they wanted and the open ocean. And they had never once looked back.

Osamu had never doubted Kita when he’d taken them across the seas in search of what they’d once thought was only a folktale. But now, with someone who possibly knows a partial truth - that myth had validation behind it and more importantly; they had a lead, for the first time in years. They were closer than they had ever been before to the Emperor of the Sea’s treasure, so why were they sitting off the damned coast of Fukurodani for so damn long?

“Nah, the damned bastard’s more likely to die before he talks,” Besides his blonde hair and brown eyes, Atsumu was his twin in almost every other aspect. With the same build, the same stature, they were like two sides of the same coin, or like night to day. The latter had stuck with them since their early days, and Osamu now had the phases of the moon mixed in with some of his other tattoos on his body, whilst his twin held the sun over his heart.

It’s too bad his brother was a rutting moron.

“Then what the hell are yer doing here ‘Tsumu?” Osamu’s patience for his brother wavering by the second as the knowing smile that covered Atsumu’s face only grew. It’s a look Osamu’s seen countless times before, one that says both ‘I’m a stuck up prick’ and ‘I know something you don’t’ simultaneously.

“We’ve got a new crewmate little brother.” The dig rips a growl out of Osamu’s mouth, and has him shifting and throwing the closest thing in sight right at Atsumu’s head in milliseconds. Luckily for his brother, it’s a battered and only half working compass that almost smacks into his face. However the blonde catches it with ease before slipping it into his back pocket. Rutting kleptomaniac.

“Kita wants your ass out on the deck.” Why he couldn’t have just stated that before now is beyond lost to Osamu, but not nothing to attempt to ask and wanting to tear his brothers head off when Atsumu talks them in circles whilst refusing to give back the compass- Osamu instead tunes him out and shoves him out of his way as he walks through the ship.

Once out under the blinding sun, the gentle breeze dances through the grey strands of Osamu’s hair. The sensation brings a calming touch, something akin to welcoming him home. It’s not as if it had always been this way, hell Osamu didn’t even know how to swim until he was in his teens - and that had been more of a live or die situation than anything. Necessity breeds talent and all that. But since he’d been dragged upon the infamous Nine Tails in his early teens, this waterlogged beautiful piece of trash was his home. He’d never felt more comfortable and sure of himself than he had standing on the battered wood of the deck with his twin by his side and their chosen family flanking them.

Osamu’s grey eyes open to face the world once more, taking in the crowd in front of him, before settling on the figure leaning against the wooden walls of the ship, his captain. It’s the stranger standing to Kita’s left that quickly has Osamu’s attention shifting to. The stranger’s yellow gaze stares right back at Osamu with pure indifference. There’s a familiarity in those eyes that he can’t seem to place, but it could be from anywhere in the world.

“Who’s this kid?” Atsumu asks, being unable to help himself, and the unperturbed glance that the brunet stranger gives his brother has a feral smile pulling across Osamu’s lips. He doesn’t even have to look at Atsumu to see his brother bristle at the complete disregard from the newcomer, and it makes Osamu think the scrawny brunet might not be too bad.

“Suna Rintarou, and from today he’s part of our crew.” Kita explains, the conviction in his gaze having everyone keep whatever smart remark they were going to let fly stay firmly in their mouths.

As Aran, their quartermaster and second hand to Kita helps lay down the law, Osamu can’t tear his gaze off the new kid. Suna looks around their age, but it’s his eyes that have Osamu hesitating to look away. Not because of their familiarity, but because of the quick glances between Osamu and Atsumu, with the calculating glimmer circulating in them as if he’s putting together dots that he shouldn’t know. And only when smirk tugs at the man’s mouth seconds later does Osamu’s own lips downturn.

He knows something.

“-from Hyogo.” Without even thinking, Osamu’s thoughts explode like cannon fire until he finds himself looking his captain dead in the eye. Kita’s brown irises flicker between Osamu and his twin, a look that would seem like nothing but a brief glance to other people, but to Osamu; he knew his captain enough to guess where this is going, and that glance was Kita’s warning.

Look around you, listen to what’s going on. Pay attention to your surroundings now, Osamu.

Lessons embedded in him from childhood have him easily falling into fake disinterest, even as he pays more attention to the conversations around him than he ever did before.

“Suna is the son of an noble.” Kita explains further, many of the men burrowing their brows in confusion. Why would they want to know this? No one in their current company gives a flying shit about where you’re from, or your past. You’ve killed someone? Great, most people on this ship have - it’s a result of the profession. You’re an orphan? There are four others aboard who fit that category.

But the son of an aristocrat? Normally that would maybe raise some eyebrows. But one from Hyogo? That alone brings nothing but trouble.

“So? What’s it to us?” Ginjima questions, levelling Suna with a glare that currently covers many of the faces of his crewmates. One full of scepticism and fierce intimidation that has a sliver of something akin to fear entering Suna’s gaze for the briefest of seconds. It’s a look that clearly states; you fuck us over and you’re going to die - brutally.

“Like many aristocrats, he received a formal invitation to the coronation of his new majesty, his highness Wakatoshi Ushijima.”

For the first time in years Osamu finds himself catching glimpses of the marble floored palace that he had once called home. Followed by memories of stealing food, of the sweetest of smiles and the most stunningly enrapturing eyes Osamu has ever seen.

The crown princess of Hyogo.

Where are you now?

Because judging by the stunned faces of the other three people abroad that had once called the empire home, they were all thinking the same damned thing. Prince Wakatoshi was to be the next king?

Doesn’t matter if one is rich or nothing but a beggar in the side alleys of the slums of every city and town in the empire, everyone knows that succession within Hyogo isn’t by birth right, but by choice. A choice from ruler to successor, and a decision that could be contested if other contenders saw fit upon the death of the previous king. It was a brutal way of life, and many royals in the past had been killed by their own siblings for the spot on the throne.

Including the current king. Upon his succession to the throne, the warrior-king had been forced to defend his chosen position against three of his siblings. It was a bloodbath which resulted in the annihilation of almost all of the royal line but his majesty.

Was that what had happened to you? Has Ushijima challenged you?

Osamu’s heart lumps painfully in his throat as his body struggles to find a way to ask the question that he partially doesn’t want to know the answer to. There are so many questions the soft, reminiscent part of Osamu’s soul that lies hidden behind lock and key wants to ask, but the expressionless pirate mould he’s forced himself into knows better.

Luckily for him though, his brother doesn’t give a shit.

“What ‘bout the princess? Everyone with ruttin’ eyes knew she was the next in line.” Atsumu points out, hardening his glare at Suna as if he were lying to all their faces. For almost every memory Osamu has with you as the star in which he orbits, Atsumu was more often than not in rotation right with him. They were your shadows within those sea sprayed walls, providing you with a semblance of freedom in the regimented society you had been forced into.

“King named Wakatoshi his successor in the final testament.” Suna shrugs as if that response is answer enough. It’s not. Osamu doesn’t realise his mask has broken until Suna’s eyes almost grin at the frown stretched across his lips.

“That’s a crock of shit.” Just this once, he’d thank the gods for his moronic brother and his habit of not being able to hold his tongue. Just once.

“She’s the daughter of a rutting concubine. She was ostracised by every noble in the whole of Hyogo, not just Inarizaki.” This was common knowledge, along with the understanding that many of those people held high levels of sway and influence within the empire, and often used their positions to look down on you and add to your misery. Osamu had seen this first hand, hidden in shadows where adults thought no one resided. People talked, and stuck up aristocrats spoke the most - and the loudest.

“Even if she were to be chosen as successor, the council would have pushed for Ushijima to challenge it.”

“Is she still ya know… alive?” Riseki asks the question plaguing their minds and the unamused shrug that Suna responds with almost has Osamu reaching across the few feet to ring his throat.

“Not sure. Some people say they’ve seen her, but considering they haven’t had a public funeral for the King yet, no one’s completely sure.”

“And why is this important to us again?” Aran prods, looking completely unamused at this entire situation. No one can blame him though, his whole village had been burned to the ground by the Hyogo forces when he was just a kid. So the death of the man behind it all was to him no doubt a good thing.

But as Osamu glances at his captain once more, he can see the feral gleam to Kita’s eyes that has anticipation rising in response. As the small crowd around him erupts into questions, Osamu lets his brain run a mile a second, trying to put the pieces together. Out of all his teammates, his captain often relied on him to see through his unvoiced plans, it was both an exciting challenge and the bane of Osamu’s existence.

Why would an invitation to one of the biggest political events in one of the biggest superpowers matter to them? Such celebrations call for large crowds, and diplomatic relations will be reinforced due to a new political power…

“Kuroo.” The name has teeth gleaming in Osamu’s direction with pure malice and distaste. But as Osamu narrows his gaze at Kita once more, he knows he’s right. “Because there will be a delegation from Nekoma attending - ergo, Kuroo and the rest of the Fleetfoot will undoubtedly be there.”

“With King Yasufumi Nekomata sitting so deep in their pockets he can’t rutting see out.” Ōmimi growls, but no one protests it. In every known land, it’s common knowledge just how deep in pirate pocket’s the whole empire of Nekoma was. They don’t try to hide it, but the nation doesn’t publicly disclose they are either.

Until the past decade, the kingdom of Nekoma wasn’t even considered as a possible political threat or power. However that changed when a ship of pirates found themselves in front of the king with more gold than they could count and the nation became indebted to a bunch of rag-tag thugs that Osamu couldn’t stand.

But more than him, their captain Kita held the most loathing for the other captain, after he was stabbed in the back and mugged, literally, by the other crew. The scar dragged over Kita’s right eye was a permanent reminder to them all of the mildest repercussions of misplaced trust.

Osamu’s crew had been sitting in this shitty bay for a week, trying to figure out their next move, only for their next decisions to come straight to them on a silver platter. He did not care for how convenient it seemed, only that they were leaving. Finally.

With a final look, Osamu knew what his captain was going to say before Kita even said it.

With an animalistic grin pulled across Kita’s mouth and a cunning prowess that could be found on no one else, the energy had the rest of the crew beaming in but seconds.

“We’re heading to Inarizaki. Man the sails.” Turning around and walking off the deck into the galley, Aran and Suna followed behind the captain smoothly as Atsumu offered Osamu a savage grin.

It’s about time, right brother? His twin’s eyes seemed to say. They were going to the kingdom they were born in, not to remain but to settle old debts. The excitement in Atsumu’s step as he bounced down the deck was contagious enough to have a smirk pulling at Osamu’s mouth as he quickly slipped back inside, following Kita and the others down to the hold. Moment’s later, he steps to a stop beside Aran, watching quietly as Kita bends down against the bars separating one side from the other.

“Well, looks like we won’t have to wait as long as we thought,” He hums. Through the strip of sunlight the crack in one of the panels gives off, brown almost golden eyes stare back at them.

“Looks like you’ll get to see that captain of yours real soon, that’s if you’ve got anything useful to say Kenma.”

It’s not until the sails catch wind and the hull of the Nine Tails slices effortlessly through the dark sapphire waves does Osamu finally have a moment of peace once again. Although, living on a pirate ship with a crew of men with arrogant swagger dripping off them in waves isn’t a recipe for a peaceful lifestyle. So his momentary silence doesn’t last long, and the most frequent uninvited guest in his life is the one to break his stillness.

“Ya know she’s goin’ to be alright.’’ Atsumu’s voice lacks his usual arrogance, and Osamu’s gaze flicks towards his twin now leaning against the railing by his side. There’s none of the overly confident obnoxiousness that’s as much a part of twin as breathing, instead Atsumu’s shoulders lay slouched, and actual concern furrows at his brows and body like a deadweight ready to sink him to the depths.

Whether Atsumu’s saying it to try to convince himself or Osamu, he’s not sure - but he’s not buying it.

“There’s no way that the King left it all to Ushijima. By law, she would have been the next in line.”

“By law, she should have been killed before she reached her first name-day.” Atsumu point’s out, and a growl threatens to rip from Osamu’s mouth at the idea. Instead, he steels his spine and lets logic push his emotions aside.

“By law brother, we should also be dead.” A feral grin tugs at Osamu’s mouth, and as he turns to face his brother once more, a matching one falls across the blonde’s face.

“Look, she’s a smart one. I’m sure we’ll go in, see’er all happy and safe and we can be on our merry way.”

“And if we don’t?” Osamu questions. Once, there hadn’t been anything Osamu wouldn’t have done for both you and his brother. But since their families banishment from the kingdom, neither of the twins had heard a peep about you since.

“Then we’ll do what we must when the time comes.” Atsumu lets out a smothered shriek of surprise at their captain’s sudden appearance behind him and Osamu earns himself a glare from his twin as he tries to muffle a chuckle.

Go jump overboard, his brother’s eyes scream at him.

After you shithead, Osamu wags his brows in return. Atsumu just offers him a vulgar gesture which has Osamu wanting to reach out and break his finger.

“Is Kenma still alive?” Osamu questions Kita instead, tearing his gaze from his brother and then to the white and black haired captain.

“Yes.” The frustration that had dug its talons into Kita’s shoulders over the past few days seems to have released its grip ever so slightly, and a sense of relief fills Osamu’s veins.

“And I’m going to keep my word and give him back to his captain.”

“I’m assumin’ he told ya somethin’ useful then?” Kita nods in response, his fingers fiddling with the gold ring around his middle finger.

“Possibly, but we’ll have to see.” Their captain responds, his eyes staring off into the ocean as if he can see the mainland over the horizon to which they head. The three of them stand in silence, letting the crashing whitewash waves against the hull lull them into a peaceful quiet.

“I want you with us Osamu, when we go into the palace.”

There is a part of Osamu that wanted to just say no to his captain, a word he has never uttered in response to him being asked to do something before. Kita was aware of those around him, especially his men. He knew their limits, their weaknesses, what drove them. And he knew just what Osamu would have to face going into the stone castle.

His captain’s light brown eyes finally shifted from the darkening horizon until they rested on Osamu’s face. There was understanding in that gaze, as well as an apology. He knew why either him or his brother were needed for the task. Having grown up with the marble tiles beneath their feet and the domed ceilings above them, they remembered every nook and cranny of that place. So should something go wrong, they were prepared.

“Okay.”

“It’ll be like the old days little brother.” Atsumu grins, a useless fact that he continuously hangs over Osamu’s head in the most inconvenient of times.

“You’re staying here.” Kita settles the blonde with a stare and ignores his squawks of outrage.

“One of you not being recognised in there will be a borderline miracle, but both? Then we will be meeting the god of death much earlier than I intended to.” They were easily recognisable already, but if both him and his brother were to go into the kingdom side by side, any noble or worker within the castle would recognise them immediately. And the tattoo’s that peaked out from under their rolled up shirts didn’t help to hide their identities.

But they would make it work, because the fact that Atsumu didn’t argue back, plus the genuine sliver of concern in their captain’s gaze only emphasised the dangers of what they were about to do.

So they’d come out the other side, or they would die. There was no in between.

The chattering of your teeth vibrates inside your bones as the temperature drops and the equally cold soapy water drenches you from the shoulders down. Honestly, you can't remember a time you’ve ever felt so cold in your life.

In a familiar practiced silence that has been instilled in them from an early age, the three handmaids worked in a fluid elegance that tugs deeply at your heart strings. Never looking you in the eye, never even looking at your face until one was applying a light dusting of kohl to your eyes and a powder to bring out the roses of your cheeks, you feel less like a human and more like a puppet. Even though they show you no attention other than to perform their duties at the words of the queen, you much preferred the handmaids to the psychopaths that guarded your cell day and night.

It isn’t until you are being shoved into a dress do two of those psychopaths return to the room. The traditional snarl of disgust on his face as he takes you in is nowhere to be found, as if just remembering that you are in fact a woman. The look in his eye is anything other than innocent and it has your spine locking tightly. You would do anything to have none of them look at you like that, preferring to suffer kicks to the spine, punches to the stomach and broken bones rather than what’s no doubt running through his head.

“My eyes are on my face shit-bag.” You hiss to the guard, and any desire is immediately wiped straight from his face, as if he too remembered that you were but a bastard.

Although they lacked a moral compass, apparently that title was enough to keep men from you as if you carried the plague. And whilst as a child, you’d hated that it kept you from making friends - now, as a woman after her eighteenth nameday in a prison with only male guards, you were glad for it.

“Bite your tongue before I tear it from your mouth scum.” The dark haired guard growls in response, his tone promising nothing but pure malice. But as the handmaidens thread the golden earrings through your lobes, you tilt your head down, feigning fear of the promised words knowing full well that it wouldn’t happen - at least by his hands, and not yet.

Do not be afraid. The voice that feels like a gentle hand on your shoulder speaks into your mind. You do not yield to anyone.

You uphold the façade as the shackles around your wrists are unchained, slipping onto the handmaid’s hands quietly, and your ankles practically sighing in relief at the lack of weight of the metal. Your mind fills with images of your deepest nightmares to ensure that your anticipation is masked deeply by feigned horror and fear so it is hidden from all but yourself in preparation for the night ahead. The exotic scent of Jasmine fills the air as shoes are slipped onto your feet and more jewellery draped across your collarbones.

It was more finery than you had ever worn in your life, as if to show that you had been accepted into the ‘new’ royal family under the façade of being taken ‘under the queen’s wing’. No doubt, in order to appease any rumours and to cover the truth for the masses.

The chiffon of your skirts dusting against your feet was an unfamiliar feeling, yet you focused on the brushing of the material as you stalked down the hall, flanked by guards to seem as if you weren’t paying attention to every stationing and every weapon glittering their white golden armour. As you breach one of the main halls, you try not to gape at the many soldiers manning each doorway. What an auspicious occasion for a coronation, the whole of the known world would have eyes within Inarizaki tonight no doubt. Once upon a time, the idea of such a large crowd would have had nerves bubbling inside your blood, but now only anticipation remains. A large crowd means twice as many eyes, and many eyes mean that the guards could not hover over you like a prisoner, they would have to be lenient.

And as you took your first steps into the throne room for the first time in months, your eyes settling on the golden throne, flames etched into the metal as if it looked as if it was made of it you couldn’t help but release a sliver of your hidden emotions.

The smell of the food wafting from the kitchens down the hall almost had your stomach rumbling, however as your gaze shifts from the throne and to the glass dome ceilings, the constellation of Kalaeo glimmering down at you, the chill that had been straining your bones settled.

You do not yield, you do not falter.

And as you turn from the sky, you thank the gods for giving you a clear night sky one last time.

Because there was a high chance that your reckless slip of a plan would go up in flames, and you would find yourself never seeing that sky ever again. You had already accepted that tonight would be your one and only chance.

You know your days are numbered, a little more than mere hours if it doesn’t go to plan. But there was nothing here for you, and no one left to mourn you. So any chance, even the most microscopic, you would take it like a beast to flesh, and you will not yield.

46 notes · View notes

yarbz · 4 years ago

Text

cowardly game of rival — n.jaemin ( f )

synopsis!

━ as the girl’s football team captain, you were used to the endless derogatory taunts, the wolf-whistling, the attempts at romance being boys telling you what they thought of barcelona’s starting XII. na jaemin fell into all those catergories, a detestable flea in your hair. as sworn enemies, there was not even an inkling of romance, and you were convinced that your attraction to him was ONLY physical. weren’t you?

pairing ━ na jaemin x female!reader

word count ━ 6k

genres ━ fluff, rival!au, football!au, comedy, romance, very little of the football game is described in detail.

warnings ━ profanity, football terms, dirty jokes, y/n and jaemin are literally just cowards

( author's note! )

this one came to mind when i thought of how i love female footballers and decided that jaemin would be the idiot in question to chicken out of confessing to their crush by being an ass instead. i really hope you like it !! other notes are sissoko is the name of like three different players and a cracker is slang for a really good goal.

Football.

A sport of creatively insane wits, fancy footwork and incoherent celebrations. Those were all the things you loved about it, along with the ridiculously cute uniform.

It provided you an escape from the man's world, a chance to carve out your own story, free from the shackles of stereotypes. At least, that's what you'd initially thought.

Unfortunately, the boy's football team made it their sole objective in life to demean you. As captain, you took on the strenuous task of refusing to resort to physical violence when a stupid comment about your short length was made or when boys assumed you couldn't tell your Sissoko's apart (you could, quite well actually).

You had taken it as a sign of war, and refused to comment on their pathetic sneers. You did, however, feel as if Na Jaemin made a blood pact or something to be a parasite towards you.

He stood at the cusp of six foot, towering over you like an evergreen beanstalk, cheshire-cat like smile taunting you. Chocolate colour tresses fell over his eyes in straight lines, shielding his forehead.

It's not like you paid attention to his visage, but even you had to admit in your spite that he was attractive. And horribly so.

Today started like every other, going to your locker before heading to your homeroom. Luckily, you'd managed to get there before the freshmen started to pile in. Being a senior had its positives along with its various faults, one of them being the early access you got to the school.

You jammed your key in the lock, flinging open the locker door, making quick work of exchanging your books. In your fast-paced stupor, you didn't notice the figure leaning behind the door. You slammed the door shut, nail catching an patch of skin, scraping it.

"If you wanted me to leave, you could've been less catty." The voice wheedled, throwing a withering glare in your direction. You rolled your eyes, annoyed, arms crossed across your chest.

"Jaemin." You sighed, rubbing your temples. "Why are you hiding behind my locker? Are you looking for a death wish?"

He sat up slowly, soothing his reddening nose, suddenly regaining his smile as he leaned closer towards your face. "If I was looking for a death wish, I'd eat whatever food you just stuffed in there."

"Fuck off. Don't see you making any gourmet meals."

"I'm the gourmet meal." He slithered, breath fanning your nose. From this distance, you could see the wonder swimming within his eyes, breath caught in your throat.

Damn, he was too fine.

You tore your gaze from his eyes, "And yet, I don't feel inclined to taste it." He jumped back in surprise, eyes widening, giving you an opening to dash. Chuffed that you left him speechless, you walked towards your next class, resisting the urge to turn back to revel in his awe-struck face.

Jaemin's eyebrow quirked in curiosity, crooked smirk hanging from his lips. He watched you stalk away, cursing underneath his breath softly. You carried a fiery aura around you, burning him with every snarky remark — even though it beat him bruised ghastly lavenders, he could bear to play with fire if it meant you would pay him attention.

You see, Jaemin did not hate you as per say. The 'hate' which you believed in was merely his inability to profess his affections towards you. For lack of a better word, he was a coward.

A dashingly handsome one, but a fragile, chicken-legged coward all the same.

You'd made it to class in record time, ego bared boldly on your shoulders, attracting the curious eyes of your best friends Yangyang and Donghyuck. Both were terrorists in their own right, but you couldn't help loving them all the same. Sure, they came as a dreadful pair, but love had decided to shackle your heart to them.

"What's got you so happy? Jaemin finally drop dead?" Yangyang joked, shifting to make space for you. Headband strapped to the pinnacle of his forehead, he grinned at you from beneath the base of stretchy ebony material.

"No..not yet." You hummed, sad lilt to your tone.

"Awh, didn't kill him yet?" Donghyuck teased, nudging Yangyang in their laughter. "I think it must be love stopping you from committing the crime yourself." You shoved both, peals of laughter tickling your throat at their whines of pain.

"If you don't shut up, I'll be killing you two instead, never mind Jaemin." You snapped. "Love is what I feel when I score a cracker from the halfway line. Seeing Jaemin makes me want to jump out of the nearest window."

"Are you sure it's not just unresolved sexual tension? I, too get antsy when I haven't jacked off—"

"Finish that sentence and you'll have no arms."

"I'm flexible enough to suck myself off." Yangyang mused, "You'll never stop my libido."

"You're disgusting." You and Donghyuck said in sync, swatting his grabby hands from flying at your shoulders. Quite frankly, you didn't want to hear about his freakishly boneless limbs, or his untameable sex drive, nor hear anything about his genitals at all.

"Does that count as self—"

"Yes, it does. Please don't be telling people that I'm your friend, or that you can do that. It's not a little icebreaker."

Friendship with these two had crossed all sorts of personal boundaries you didn't know existed, and it was starting to decompose you, like a rotting piece of cabbage infested by slugs, yet still hanging on for the glimpse of sunlight to regenerate.

Okay, so you were being dramatic. But, that didn't explain their dire need to over share certain aspects of their lives with you.

"Doesn't change the topic at hand —Did you get my pun?" He asked, looking for Donghyuck's reaction.

"I did. Not going to comment on it before she breaks my arms. Just know I enjoyed it very much."

"If I wanted to mess around with Jaemin, I'd put my hand in a beehive. It'd sting less." You snarled, slamming down your books. They winced comically, faces alert as the teacher walked into the class.

Apart from football, you enjoyed learning — how to make things, break things, self defense, people skills, and education fell not too far from that. Classes like biology interested you greatly, which is why you found yourself fully immersed in the process of respiration.

Your mind drifted for a second, thinking back to what he'd said. Was it actually sexual tension? Did you actually bare an emotion other than loathing towards him? Then, you thought of that face and how you'd want to do nothing more than break his pretty little nose—

Yeah. There it was. You were normal after all.

School had come to her daily dreadful end, and you were happily striding into the ladies' changing rooms for football training. Nobody had gotten here yet, luckily.

You glanced over into the full body mirror, tugging at your shorts until they fell just above the bump of your knee, pulling your sock midway at your calf. Lean abs shone underneath the dim light, and you proudly paraded around the room, happy to be alone.

A knock on the door came, and you swung the door open with a feverish excitement. "Who is it?"

"Didn't take me as a bra kinda girl. Was thinking more spandex or a binder." Jaemin seethed, hands on hips, azure jersey hanging off his lithe frame.

"You're insufferable. Why are you here?" You groaned, choosing to ignore his taunt at your breast size. His eyes crinkled into upside down crescents, wandering lower to the dip of your frilly black bra.

"To see my favourite girl, of course." He whistled, eyes still glued to your unmarked expanse of skin. "I think those need a new owner." He pointed towards your chest.

"Preferably one whose face I can stand to look at."

"I'm roaring with laughter." You snarked, voice dripping with sarcasm, making no attempt to cover yourself up. Jaemin was still staring, face flushed a flaming cerise. "You gonna keep staring or are you gonna leave me alone?"

"I'm not staring. Why are you staring at me?" He shot defensively. Your eyes narrowed at him, watching his cheeks darken with every lingering stare.

"You're in the girl's changing room, drooling over two lumps of fat on the body of a girl that you hate. The real inquisition here is your lack of sensibility to stop thirsting after anything with a vagina."

Jaemin stayed silent, eyes boring holes into your full lips, tongue instinctively darting out to wet his own nimble, chapped ones. Rolling your eyes, you lead him to the door, hand clasped against the door handle.

Then, you heard loud footsteps approaching the room, incoherent rambling increasing in clarity. You began to conjure up a plan, wondering how on Earth you'd be able to kick Jaemin out without the girls knowing.

With the shouts of the team gradually getting closer, you panicked, chucking Jaemin into a locker.

"Fine, I'll leave! Lemme out!" He squirmed, trying to come out of the metal confines.

"You can't leave now, they're literally outside. Do you want to be stomped to death by Nike Mercurials?" You hissed, closing the door over, much to his protests.

"Don't wanna die with the last image being your breasts."

"If you survive this, I'll gladly provide you a new image."

He shut up at that, and you straightened, reaching for your jersey in a false calmness. The girls burst in, squeals of various greetings being thrown across the room.

You smiled gently at them, encouraging them to get changed, joining in to laugh at their jokes. The topic kept shifting from manicures to new boots before finally settling on Na Jaemin.

"Cap'n, what's going on with you and Jaemin?" One of the girls asked, batting her eyelashes softly. "A boy on the football team told me that you guys are dating."

Dating..that devil? A sin punishable by death! You repelled all instinct to shudder in disgust, instead choosing to maintain a neutral expression.

"I am absolutely not dating Na Jaemin. He's a despicable little mongrel and I'd rather eat my shoe—"

"Mon bébé chérie, why do you curse me like this?" Jaemin squeezed from the locker, voice like a wounded puppy.

"Did you hear that? I think it was—"

"No! It's my Jaemin impression. Isn't it so good?" You spluttered, voice rising in volume. You were sure that your face was a painful beetroot, breathing crazily as you over-exerted yourself.

"Cap'n, it was so good I almost thought Jaemin was in here with us!" She gushed, hands clasped. "You guys would be so cute together. Even if you don't like him, I think he most definitely has feelings for you."

The rest of the girls joined in at this, shouts of 'you should take a chance!' resounding in the hollow room. You'd already ruled out that as a possibility, chalking it down to his uncontrollable thirst for being a pest. Na Jaemin was your rival, the utter bane of your existence, a rodent that fed on robbing your spirits dry of any positivity.

"He'll get a chance when pigs fly." You muttered, noticing their eyes staring at you inquisitively, as if they knew something you didn't. Awkwardly, you smiled at the girls, ushering them towards the door, scanning the hallway after the last one had skipped out.

Jaemin untangled himself from the locker, straightening his limbs, pulling at his calves in a stretch. You peered over your shoulder, frown deepening at him.

"Did you mean what you said?" Jaemin breathed, walking into your personal bubble. He was way too close. His breath tickled your forehead, eyes dark with something you couldn't decipher.

He felt his heart pound against his chest, resisting the urge to pick the stray hair in your eye to the side. You were looking at him with a confused expression, nose scrunched, eyebrows furrowed. You were going to be the death of him. Devastated, he broke eye contact, feeling all forms of fight seep from his bones.

"You don't like me." You whispered, wincing at the wobble in your voice. "Everyone's just saying that....right?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"No. I want you to say no."

"I can't do that."

"Well, you have to say no. I don't want to hear the rest of your sentence — keep us as just this." You softly yelled, pointing between the pair of you. "Don't change anything."

"Okay. I'll leave, but only because you want me to. But, before I go..you've gotta start being more observant." He sighed, ruffling your hair before making his way out.

"I’m plenty observant. Wouldn’t be a good player if I wasn’t.”

"I’ll see it when I believe it. Oh, and the thing you said about pigs flying..”

“What about it?”

“Renjun’s working on it.”

You laughed heartily, locking the door behind you. So, Jaemin did in fact think of you as his Aphrodite — all those nicknames were genuinely created out of affections. 'Mon bébé chérie' held a lot more emotional weight than it did twenty minutes ago, and you had to breathe before your eyes prickled with saltine tears.

Fresh air hit you like a loaded delivery truck, Mother Nature delicately wiping the tears from your eyes, shaking you with a cold flourish, roaring your cheeks to life. The team had already started their warm-up drills, as opposed to the boys' football team who were cooling down from their jog.

You ran over, tightening your ponytail, shifting into 'Captain' mode. The coach pushed you into the circle, encouraging you to take the reins. "Team, we've been doing nothing but straight work. Let's make this session count before the match tomorrow." You shouted, feeling that familiar rush of adrenaline.

The team chanted back, settling into their positions for the first drill — a penalty shoot out. You stepped to the ball, striding back to gain a better angle, socks hugging your knees.

Giving yourself a five second countdown, you charged at the ball, foot pointed, kicking it with a passion that rivalled Lionel Messi. It rolled in the back of the net, flying past Hyejoo, who could barely even process it.

"Still got those fire feet, I see, Cap'n!"

"Lady Luck gave them to me for a reason." You boasted, smugness slapped all over your face.

From the corner of your eye, Jaemin snickered, winking at you when you turned to make eye contact. At least he had the audacity to keep up appearances in front of everyone, even if you had probably made everything awkward.

"My granny could kick better than that, babes!" He boomed from across the pitch, teasing smirk on his lips.

"Your granny lives in a retirement home and still calls on you 'Nana Banana'..it's not very nice to lie." You retorted, eyes narrowed, nearing his hunched form.

"Doesn't mean she can't kick your ass. Granny was a little Aguero back in the day."

"She can't if I'm the Manè, can she?"

"But I'm a Modric. I'll beat your ass, any day, any time." He grinned, leaning in to you. "In any way you want."

You heard blood pumping in your ears, your cheeks filling with immense heat. He grabbed your cheeks softly, grinning even wider when you flushed even warmer, a human sauna. Pushing a lock out of your eyes, he searched your eyes for any sense of rage, face softening at your lack of that emotion.

"Any..way..I want?" You mouthed silently, innuendo catching your attention again as you mulled over the words. "Na Jaemin, you're a dirty boy."

"I think you're the dirty girl." He hummed, saying the next sentence in an octave that made your head spin, quietly enough that only the two of you could hear. "Sauntering around in your little Victoria's Secret bra, cozying up to me without even batting an eyelash or covering up."

"These boobs are mine. I'm allowed to show them to anyone I want."

"So you admit to showing them to me? You admit that you were trying to put on a show for me?" He pressed, purposely craning his neck over you.

"I was trying to change. If you didn't come into the room like a little pervert, you'd never have gotten a visual of these."

"And yet I know how they look now. There's nothing that can erase that image."

"Fuck you, Na Jaemin."

"I think you meant to say fuck me, but I'll allow the slip-up just because I'm so nice." You squirmed under his predatory gaze, heat in your cheeks akin to a fever. "Better get back to training, Cap. Your team's got a match tomorrow."

You hissed at him weakly, choosing to walk away from his provocation, going back to the team, who were all smiling at you with a glint in their eye. By the looks on their faces, they'd definitely taken that exchange as a form of flirting.

Not that you were disputing it, of course.

The coach rounded the girls up, calling them to grab bibs. You relaxed, running over to take the last bib once you'd calmed down. Na Jaemin was a little toe-sucking, filthy mongrel who only knew how to charm his way out of everything — totally not your ideal type or anything.

His penance for being blunt coupled with that honeyed voice was what was throwing you off. Not your physical attraction to him. At least, you hoped so.

The shrill shriek of the whistle behind you shook you out of your mind, bringing your attention back to the practice game. With every shot at the goal, you could see Jaemin taunting you, making kissy faces.

After the first half, you weren't sure if it was real or if you were hallucinating — almost like a mirage, he was wearing that stupid little smirk and there was nothing more you wanted than to slap those lips clean off his face.

Soon enough, you clocked that it wasn't just an illusion, as he'd shifted to the opposite end of the pitch, the other boys from the football team watching from the stands.

They'd started jeering at every pass, exaggerating their reactions, commentary toeing the border of sexual harassment. You volleyed the ball on your foot, battering it into the stands, grinning widely as it hit one of the boys in the face, leaving his nose lopsided.

"If you're gonna be a sexist piece of shit, just fuck off. My team doesn't deserve to hear your brain-dead commentary, nor see your fuck face." You smiled, bite in your voice. "Kindly take the opinion that nobody asked for and shove it up your ass."

Jaemin's eyes twinkled with respect, breath caught in his throat at the dark look in your eyes. He felt his chest warm in adoration, heart doubling in size. "You heard the lady."

"Includes you too, Jaemin. Better get home before Granny Na starts missing her little boy."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Fuck off." You said playfully, recovering the ball. He waved you bye, lugging his bag over his shoulder, fixing the collar of his jersey. A beam touched your lips, face lighting up.

Jaemin smirked back at you, taking his leave. He dragged the remnants away with him, leaving the girl's football team alone in the cooling dwindle of Autumn light.

"Nice shorts." A tug.

"Oh? Na Jaemin complimenting me?" You mused in surprise, arms folded across your chest.

"You didn't let me finish." Jaemin whispered, standing on the sidelines of the pitch, pulling at the hem of your shorts. "Ooh, I can see your stubble. Better bring out the razor."

Your jaw tightened, feeling that rush of annoyance fill your veins again. The nerve.

"More stubble than you'll ever grow on that chin."

"At least I'm not a human Sasquatch."

"I've got hair in the right places—" You started, catching the innuendo, glaring at Jaemin's raised eyebrows. "—I know what I meant. Don't be such a dirty boy."

"Say it again. Love the way it rolls off your tongue."

You gaped at him, whole body blowing a fuse, skin reddening at his tone. Sweltering heat danced atop each fingertip, each muscle, making you jolt. His gaze was still glued to your face, relishing the quickly dilating pupils in your eyes.

"I—"

"—Would rather have you speechless after our first time, not for your championship final. When you win, I'll buy you fucking adorable ice cream with the little star sprinkles that you like."

"Going to ignore you on that first statement, but the second one sounds like a motive."

"Win the match, and I'll ask you out. Properly."

You saw his eyes flash with something passionate, flakes of gooey molasses swirling behind the irises. Before you opened your mouth to reply to him, he pleaded silently for you to just take it as it was. "Gimme a chance. Who knows you better than your enemy? Nobody."

"I mean..."

"Only you know that my grandma calls me those corny names or that I see her all the time."

"Or that you lose every game that's not football because you're too lazy to pay attention." You added.

"And I know that you broke a guy's jaw because he was bothering Yangyang." He continued. "And I also know that you know one thing I've never told anyone."

"Ooh, what's that?"

"That I like you."

You looked away from him sheepishly, goosebumps popping up on your skin, and whether it was from the cold or from his words, you didn't know. He was looking down at you tenderly, ruffling your bed of hair, pressing a small, wet kiss to your forehead as the whistle blew.

"Don't play with fire, Na."

"You're more like a carpet burn."

You sighed, defeated. "Fine. I'll give you an answer when we win. If you're playing me, I'll break your arms."

"Okay. Go get 'em, Lady Luck." He smiled, waving you off as you scurried onto the pitch, face glowing under the fluorescent lights. Jaemin felt his chest tighten with pride, jaw aching from all the strenuous smiling.

With that absurdly contented face, you reminded him of a cross between a kid at a carnival and a man about to kill another. Your hair gathered wildly atop your head, a wicked glare painting your face.

This was you at peace, he deduced. Even with the gruesome of expressions, you looked calm. The pitch was truly your home away from home.

Two minutes into the second half saw you being carried off on a stretcher with a torn hamstring. You'd fallen to the grass, no sounds coming from your limp body. Jaemin swore he felt his heart plunge into his ass, and with a frantic flourish, he was coddling your head into his chest.

"Luck, don't die on me. I'm supposed to take you out for ice cream after this, and I stole Renjun's Baskin Robbins loyalty card to cut costs so if we don't go, I'll be getting beat up without having kissed your stupid face." He babbled, slapping your cheeks, scared that you'd genuinely lost your life.

You groaned, rolling slowly in the elastic. "Stop touching my face, I'll get acne." Mildly concussed, you soothed your throbbing headache, registering Jaemin's face looming over you. "Jaemin?"

"Oh, thank God. Thought I'd never see that unruly sparkle in your eyes again."

"Fuck off. My hamstring feels like a fried chicken mukbang and you're talking about my eyes."

"I can't cry before our first date. You'll think I'm a wimp."

"Already think that."

He hit your arm lightly, beaming at your focus on his face, meeting your eyes. You were glaring at him with a kissable pout on your lips, eyebrows furrowed — he wanted to pepper your face in balmy kisses.

The paramedic pushed him away, leading you to the ambulance. You flipped him off, yelling loudly as they wheeled you in, "Make sure you win! Won't forgive you if you don't."

The girl's football team had gathered around the door, all tight-lipped smiles and crumpled faces. They visibly brightened at your declaration, huddling together to recalibrate — the ref blew her whistle to call them back, summoning them back into position.

Yangyang and Donghyuck left the stands, rushing into the ambulance alongside you, closing the door behind them. Jaemin could faintly hear your loud curses, and sighed in relief, knowing that you'd be fine.

With two goals up, the team were at optimum working speed, playing loyally for your honour. Jaemin stood at the sidelines, holding your jacket in his hands as he recorded the match on his phone, wanting to send it to you later.

At 90 minutes, the girl's team had become the winner of the Division One Seoul Inter-district championship, and Jaemin was content. Not because it meant you'd go on that date with him, but because he could feel how much it meant to them.

Everyone around him was cheering madly, chanting and spraying assorted drinks in each other's faces, an infectious joy lingering in his veins. Amongst all the commotion, he'd somehow been pushed into the middle of the team, feeling their gazes boring into his frame.

"You like Cap'n, right?" The brunette said, eyes bright.

"No. I don't like her. She's my rival." Jaemin lied pathetically, trying to escape their judgement.

"Why were you in the locker room then?"

"Damn. How do you know that?"

"Cap'n is horrible at lying, so she's always upfront. She also cannot do an impression so she never attempts it."

"Wow, you guys sure know your stuff. Bet she's glad to have a team like you. I know I'm feeling a little jealous."

"Cut the smooth talk. If you like Cap'n, just be straightforward. She's more innocent than she seems, and can get her heart broken easily."

"Got it." He nodded, "Well...ladies, I have to thank you for the advice."

"No problem, but if you break her heart.." They chorused, "We'll break that pretty little nose." Fifteen studded feet swung at his face, narrowly skimming the bridge of his nose.

He flinched, caught off guard, grin bared. "Now, I definitely got that message. I'll be going to check up on her, what do you want me to say?"

"We've already called her and shown her the trophy, so we have nothing left to say, you, however...take all the time you need."

"Since I have your blessing, am I allowed to—"

"Don't finish that sentence. Keep in your lane."

Jaemin promptly closed his mouth, and bid them a goodbye, dashing into his car towards the hospital, stopping at Baskin Robbins to buy the ice cream he promised. He hoped you’d at least be able to eat the sprinkles (the ones you liked were expensive, and if you didn’t eat them, he’d just wasted an extra 2,500 won.)

In the hospital, you were now dressed in a medical gown, surrounded by the two idiots. It smelt like an experiment lab, and the spotless shades of ivory splashed on the walls made you feel a tad bit overwhelmed.

Your leg had already undergone the MRSI scan, and the nurses had told you that you’d definitely tore your hamstring, but surgery would fix it right up along with natural healing.

Of course, all those details lacked in comparison to your team finally winning the trophy you’d worked so hard towards — that excitement numbed the pain considerably.

“We thought you’d somehow died.” Yangyang confessed, grasping your hands in his clammy ones.

“You did.” Donghyuck sneered, pointing at him, continuing when he saw your face change in confusion. “Yang was convinced that you were invincible like Superman or something. He started blubbering about how you could definitely defeat the grim reaper in close contact and that should be enough to steal back your soul or whatever—”

“I’m just never going to ask questions again.”

“Jaemin was on the verge of a breakdown when he saw you fall. Never have I ever seen him run so fast towards a girl.” Donghyuck said, hand on chin in mock thought.

You blushed, remembering your promise about the ice cream and falling back into the bed in distress.

“What’s going on with you? I saw you two all friendly at the sidelines.” Yangyang murmured, eyes squinting in judgement. “Don’t tell me...you guys fucked before the game?”

Suddenly it was too hot in the room. You fanned yourself to cool down, slapping your own cheeks before pulling Yangyang’s ears. “Yeah, because I have the guts to just have my first time in a school setting.” You deadpanned.

“Naughty girl.” Both boys swooned, unable to note your sarcasm.

“Just because my leg is gone doesn’t mean I can’t harm you anymore. I’ll break your kneecaps.”

In the midst of your fight with your best friends, you spotted Jaemin opening the door, wearing that greasy smirk that made butterflies tickle your throat.

“I see a broken leg isn’t enough to stop you, is it?” Jaemin drawled from the door, hands behind his back. “Still threatening people?”

“It’s not threatening if they deserve it.” You mumbled, suddenly shy. Jaemin maintained his distance from you, arm outstretched, ice cream tub in hand. He was looking away from you, faint blush tinting his cheeks, lips squeezed in a puffy ‘o’.

“Not that I remembered or anything, but you did say something about liking these sprinkles.” He said, eyes darting around to focus on anything but you.

“I do...like these sprinkles..how did you know?”

“Everyone calls you star, and you’re cute. It’s your personality in an edible sugar shape.”

You rolled your eyes at his words, forgetting both Donghyuck and Yangyang were seated in the room. It felt like the two of you were just stuck in your own world, glaring at each other like a pair of lovers.

Unfortunately, that moment was cut short by your ungracious best friends, cooing annoyingly. They were squealing like little girls, incomprehensible screams of ‘our girl’s grown up!’ scraping your eardrums.

“Leave me alone!” You whined, face scrunched in discomfort, making futile attempts to push them away. “Jaemin...please get these two off me.”

“Asking your boyfriend to get rid of us? Already?” Yangyang hollered, one of Jaemin’s arms stopping him from jumping on you again.

“He’s not my boyfriend. As of now, he’s the only sensible one who isn’t mauling the girl with a broken leg, and that’s why I’m asking him for help.”

“Should I throw them out?”

“Yes —actually, do whatever. Let them go terrorise someone that isn’t me.”

“Your wish is my command.”

On that, Jaemin escorted both boys outside, shutting the door on them, cutting off the beginning to their long-winded rant with a smile. That left the two of you alone.

Oddly enough, the silence wasn’t stifling but rather a conversation of the mind — you were able to see what he wanted to say by looking into those mocha coloured eyes. You threw the ice cream tub in the bin, reaching for Jaemin’s hands shyly.

He’d sat down beside you on the bed, just staring at you like you were an abstract painting, a mosaic of a splendid array, unable to take his eyes off you. He took your hand warmly, running his fingers over your calloused knuckles, sharing his heat with you.

“Jaemin.” You yawned, head falling onto his shoulder. “I’m saying yes to your date. If I didn’t get injured, you could’ve taken me out today, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry. Being with you is enough for me, even if I do want to comment on your horrible tackles during the match.” Jaemin teased, grabbing your hand a little tighter.

“Haha...I’m dying of laughter.”

“Hey! None of that here.”

“Sorry. I’m just happy. My team won our first championship, which we’ve been trying to do for three years, and I feel on top of the world. All those years of boys being absolute dickheads to us about our abilities, trying to put us down have amounted to this moment. I’m at peace right now.”

“Don’t apologise. I should be sorry instead. It was easier to talk to you if I pretended I hated you. I shouldn’t have been like that.”

“I accept your apology. But..I think it was cute you couldn’t tell me you liked me! That’s so endearing.”

“Fuck off.”

“That’s my line! Well, you were always attractive to me, even when you were being a dickhead. Now that I think about it, you’re at your hottest when you’re being mean.”

“Is that so?” Jaemin mused, rolling onto his hands, dangling over you, lips eerily close to your own. “Do you want me to treat you mean, keep you keen?”

“Firstly, don’t ever say that again.” You stopped him, hand placed on his chest to push him away lightly. “Secondly, I’ve never had a boyfriend or my first kiss. That means no experience.” You slurred that last part, rushing the words so he wouldn’t be able to hear.

“Cap’n, you’re telling me that I’ll be your first?”

“Not if you don’t ask me out.”

Jaemin sat back beside you, looking up to the ceiling. This was the moment. He took a deep breath, standing up before you, hands rubbing his stomach softly to calm down.

“I wanted to do a real dramatic confession, but I rushed over here in fear that you wouldn’t be able to hit me again, so I’ll have to stick with my speech.” He cheesed, trying to ease himself of his nerves. You laughed, hissing in mock anger when he wore that stupid grin. “I like you. Like a lot. Sometimes, I come to school with a dirty scowl on my face, but then I see your face and start smiling like a love struck fool. You’re someone that I wouldn’t want to lose.”

“Jaemin, you little mongrel. Come here.” You waved him over, arms outstretched in a hug. “Even though I know your ego won’t let you ask me out properly, I would love to be your girlfriend. However, if my heart is broken..I’ll be stoning your car.”

“Thought you were gonna say that you’d break my face.”

“That too.”

He snuggled closer into you, peering up at you with shining eyes, not wanting to move too much to keep you comfortable. You grinned back at him, placing a soft kiss on his head, running a hand through his hair.

That familiar silence returned, and that’s how you fell asleep with Na Jaemin enveloped in your chest. Although you’d broken a leg, Lady Luck seemed to have twiddled her fingers to send you a ‘get well soon’ present, the ever cunning Na Jaemin.

Five months later had you no longer hobbling around on crutches like a hobbit, but walking proud and tall. Jaemin drove you to school (using the excuse of carpooling) and helped you take your books to first period everyday — the alpha male in him winced seeing you attempt any ‘heavy lifting’, and he’d made it a routine.

“Can you fuck off? I can carry this.” You complained, pinching his side. “Just because I see a physio biweekly doesn’t mean I’m about as able-bodied as a monkey.”

“Got the hair to be a monkey.” He snorted.

“Look who’s talking, Mr.Sasquatch. Bigger feet than his prints, you little scoundrel.”

“Big feet means big—”

“Don’t finish that if you wanna keep the body part in question.”

“—heart. Dirty girl.”

You felt the honey pooling in your stomach, kissing his cheek in haste to escape his relentless teasing. He shut up at that, pulling you back to kiss you properly, attracting the attention of everyone in the hallway.

“Get to class.” He announced as he parted from you, enjoying your petulant face. You hit him softly, flipping him off from behind you, blowing him a kiss.

Ah, Na Jaemin. You still hated him. Just a little less this time.

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taeescript · 3 years ago

Text

VI. Script of the Angel

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰 >> This is the story of three very different people. A successful novelist, a blossoming artist and a dedicated cop. They seem to have nothing in common. Yet, they are continually drawn to each other. It is as if their fates have been intertwined. Written. That they must meet.

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 >> ft. jungkook and jimin primarily.

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢 >> policeman!jimin, author!jungkook, painter!reader, serialkiller!XXX; a classic game of cat and mouse

𝔴/𝔠 >> 2.3k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 >> mature themes depicted. due to the explicit nature of the topic (serial killers, murders, violence, sexual content, infidelity etc.) this is rated 18+. to spare storytelling: please consider yourself warned.

𝔞/𝔫 >> there is a lot going on tumblr these days, and a lot of things just going on in life right now. i still hope to continue to share chapters with you although they may all be a little shorter than usual now. nontheless, i hope you enjoy (:

previous part || masterlist || next part

Wax – a diverse class of organic compounds which are hydrophobic, malleable solids at ambient temperatures. Typically containing melting points above at 40 C, they are obtained from multiple resources such as animals or plants. Wax can also be extracted chemically in petroleum. There are many uses for wax such as the manufacture of candles, final coatings on wood products and thickening agents amongst others. One of the most popular artistic use of waxes is the creation of statues from Madame Tussauds.

“Another what?” Jimin asks when he is dragged out of the interrogation room again by Namjoon.

“Dispatch just gave me a call. They want the homicide team on site because…well, you know the reason each and every time we’re called into site,” Namjoon runs his hand through his hair. The news had come as a shock to him as well. “You’ll have to release him, Jimin.”

Jimin shakes his head. “No, Namjoon. I was in the middle of something with him.”

“Jimin, be reasonable here! There’s another murder that’s been committed while you were here questioning him. It’s quite obvious that he couldn’t have killed this person.”

“I’m so close to cracking him!” Jimin yells in frustration. “Beside, how do you know he hadn’t gone and done this before he came in?”

Namjoon has to bite back his words.

“Fuck!” Jimin kicks the door. He doesn’t care that Jungkook could hear how angry he is on the other side. There really isn’t anything to hide between the two of them anyways.

After a minute, Jimin has calmed down. “I’ll meet you on site,” he says to Namjoon.

Namjoon doesn’t leave.

“Look, I promise, alright? I’m just going to send Jungkook off properly and then I’ll drive straight to the site. Text me the address,” Jimin says.

He only has one choice so Namjoon nods and leaves.

Once Jimin is left alone in the room, he punches the air blindly.

Jungkook sits calmly inside the room. It seems that luck is on his side. Perhaps whatever this case was would have Jimin off his back. It would be a little hard to continue any of his extracurricular activities if Jimin continuously monitors all his actions.

“You’re free to go, Mr. Jeon,” Jimin opens the door and speaks without looking at Jungkook.

Jungkook raises his hand and the handcuffs that link him to the table clang as metal hits metal.

Jimin walks up to him and opens the lock. Jungkook rubs his wrists and picks up his jacket on the way out.

“I really do hope you catch the killer, Detective Park,” Jungkook gives a light pat on Jimin’s shoulder.

...

Jimin recognizes her when he brushes under the caution tape onto where the rest of his team stands in a circle. It is not so much that he recognizes her facial features, but it is the outfit she is wearing. The same black and blue leggings.

“Fuck me,” Namjoon says the instance Jimin slides up besides him, “Fucking bat shitting balls.”

Yoongi has one hand placed over his mouth and his index finger pressing against his nostrils. There is a strange smell emitting off the corpse.

“A missing body part, again?” Jimin says. He swallows the bile that threatens to rise. The forensics team does not need to tell him what part is missing this time. It is glaringly obvious to the observer.

Replacing where it usually sits on the body is the head of another species – a buck’s crown with antlers and all. The girl is still standing although it is clear that she is deceased. Her body had been manipulated such that it looked like she was mid-sprint before being shocked by her attacker. She was a live manifestation of a deer caught in headlights.

“Let’s see if we can move her; bring her back to the lab for analysis,” Namjoon barks an order at the forensics team. They nod and move towards the body. Right as they put their hands on her, a loud voice yells,

“Don’t!”

It is too late, however. The team has already lifted her an inch off the floor. At his shout, they drop her immediately and that is when she crumbles, literally, at their feet. Jimin stands as her foot rolls in front of him. He stares at the shoe and foot that has been broken off at the ankle.

“Fuck!” Namjoon exclaims in alarm, jumping back.

Taehyung stands with his arms at his side, defeated. “You shouldn’t have tried to move her,” he mutters.

Namjoon’s face conveys both astonishment and confusion as stalks away to find somebody who could clean the body parts and move them back to the lab.

Jimin carefully tiptoes around the fragments of her body and walks up to Taehyung. “What the hell just happened?” he demands.

Besides being the team’s blood spatter analyst, he was an expert on a multitude of other subjects. “You saw how her body was positioned, didn’t you? Usually, victims are sprawled on the ground because gravity pushes on them, and their muscles have collapsed. She was standing. Something is keeping her muscles rigid post mortem,” Taehyung explains.

“Kim!” someone calls amidst the rubble. The victim’s body had been broken at most of the joints and a gathered team was currently packing each section in a bag.

Both Taehyung and Jimin walk up to the jacketed individual who had called out. She is bent over what looks like the forearm. A brown, semi-clear substance is pooling around the limb.

“This started seeping out all of a sudden. It’s happening to a couple of the broken parts, although most of the liquid is contained in the bags that we have stored them in,” she tells the two of them.

Taehyung bends down to examine the liquid. He is wearing gloves and when he extracts his fingers from the surface of the substance, it is slightly sticky between his index finger and thumb. He wipes his hand on a piece of tissue before slipping that into the bag as well. “Take that and all the parts back to the lab. If you can get a vial of the liquid to analyze, that would be helpful as well,” Taehyung told the assistant. She nods.

As the scene is being cleared, Taehyung walks back to the patrol car with Jimin. “What are you thinking about?” Jimin inquires, seeing that the gears inside Taehyung’s head are turning.

“Tell me, what’s the temperature right now?” Taehyung asks.

Jimin checks his phone and reports, “20 C, but with sunshine it should feel like 24 C.”

Taehyung takes note. “Slightly above room temperature,” he mumbles.

“What was that?”

“Slightly above room temperature,” Taehyung repeats louder. He stops walking and faces Jimin. “I’ve got a theory on what that is, but I can’t be sure yet. I’m going back to the lab and once results are out, I will call you immediately.”

Jimin nods. “I wanted to take a look around the site anyways. I’ll see you back at the station.”

Taehyung waves before leaving.

By the time Jimin returns to the crime scene, the majority of broken body parts have been cleaned. There is only a lone photographer who is packing up his camera into his bag. He greets Jimin with a slight bow on his way to leave the site.

“Any witnesses?”

Namjoon returns by his side. He shakes his head, answering Jimin’s question himself. “This is not a common runner’s route. It’s a short cut from the left side of the park to the right so not a lot of pedestrians know about it.” He sees how Jimin is still standing there with an unreadable expression on his face. “Are you okay?” he asks Jimin directly.

Jimin taps the bridge of his nose. “I know that girl,” he says softly, “Not personally. But I bumped into her before. It was at the park near our station. I also saw – ” His sentence is suddenly cut off.

“Saw what?” Namjoon asks further.

Jimin cannot continue his sentence. He knows what Namjoon will say already. Besides, if he really wanted concrete evidence against Jungkook, he must absolutely make sure that Jungkook was there at the park when the running girl was there. “Saw a red bird. I think it’s called a cardinal,” Jimin lousily finishes his sentence.

Namjoon gives him a strange look. “I’ve never pegged you as a bird watcher,” he comments.

Jimin shrugs. “I’m heading back to the station. Taehyung also says he has something on the possible C.O.D.,” he reports to Namjoon.

“You’re leaving me again to handle the crowd? That happened last time with Sara Michel’s case,” he groans.

Jimin shrugs again as if to say, “Sorry, what can I do?” He gives a reassuring squeeze on Namjoon’s shoulder before leaving.

This time, he is going to find unshakable evidence.

...

“Welcome back,” you smile at him when he enters the door. You are sitting at the table, pencil and sketchpad in front of you.

Jungkook smiles ever so slightly back before bending down to untie his shoes. They needed to be placed in their usual spot; if they weren’t, he would feel the irritation spread throughout his body until he went back to fix it. It is better that everything is perfect the way it is the first time.

After he has made sure that his laces were also tucked into the shoe as was his preference, he walks over to you. He can’t help but muse at how exquisite you look whenever the afternoon’s sunshine would brush through your hair. You are like a marble stature carved by the Greeks and placed on display in the middle of a garden. He moves his eyes over you like a curator would when assessing a piece.

You have your back turned towards him and do not hear when he walks behind.

“What are you drawing?”

Immediately, you stand and hold your sketchpad to your chest. It shields your work from his curious eyes.

“Something!” you blurt, your face flushing.

He cannot read why you are acting so strangely so he does what he always does around you: smile.

You clear your throat and tuck your disheveled hair behind your ear. “A package came for you. I left it in your room!” you say the tumbling words. It is your lame attempt in shifting his attention away from you to something else.

Thankfully, it works as he nods. He sends you a last playful smirk before making his way towards his makeshift bedroom. It is tiny, as you had originally used it as your storage room for your art utensils, but they had recently moved a mattress into the room for him and it helped that he did not have a lot of personal items with him anyways. The said package sits just beside the doorframe to his closed room, and he wonders again of whether or not you are scared of him. You never seemed to want to enter his room and insisted on speaking to him from outside in the hallway.

The package is not heavy and rather small in his hands. He is able to pick it up with one and balances it on his left palm as he opens the door. The blue walls welcome him into his small, personal haven. Carefully, he tiptoes his way between the old canvases and dried paint palettes. He passes by the yellow smudge on the wall and then collapses on the mattress in the back of the room. His suitcase squeaks as the wheels press against the body of the case while being wedged in the small space.

Once he is comfortably sitting cross-legged on the bed, he carefully finds a cutter and slices through the masking tape that conceals the contents of the cardboard box. The movement is as smooth and practiced as slicing through butter to him – a flick of the wrist. Once the tape no longer holds, he pries the flaps open. There is another small box tied with a red ribbon. A single white card is attached to the side. This is what he first takes out.

The envelope is embossed with a strange swirling design. He breaks the seal with another slice of the cutter, sliding out the cardstock letter. It had been written in elegant matching swirling cursive with a golden fountain pen.

“I’ve been waiting for you. Welcome to my town. A small home-warming gift.”

It has not been signed and Jungkook wonders if the writer was the one who wrote the words; each letter had been carved so delicately onto the material. He tilts his head as he thinks of who may have sent this to him. He has not told anybody that he is planning to stay in LA for the time being. He had never been one to open his circle of acquaintances and thereby it had remained small. Digging through his mind, he comes up empty-handed on any of the known possibilities.

Well, there is one person who definitely would not be the sender.

The bow becomes undone by a light tug from his fingers. It falls delicately onto his lap like a ribbon of red liquid. At that, the walls of the box fall easily to reveal its treasure, akin to the opening of an oyster.

His usual stoic expression becomes all the more frozen on his face when he sees what the gift is. Somebody has been watching him. Somebody knows about him. Somebody is out there.

For a single eyeball, pupil and iris augmented in aquamarine and azure hues, stares right back at him. The crystalline gift plucked so delicately from the girl who he had been planned as his next angel.

...

next part

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xfangheartx · 3 years ago

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First Impressions- A NaLu One-Shot

Just something I made the other day and I just wanted to share.

Natsu Dragneel might seem like your typical guy: brash, a bit reckless... okay, a LOT reckless, had a fiery attitude that matched his magic, and ate as if food and money grew on trees. People often thought that he was just some punky kid who always got into trouble the first chance he got. However, if you got to know him long enough, you'd realize that he actually has something of a sixth sense when it came to reading people.

This was especially when he met a certain blonde-haired Celestial Spirit Wizard during his and Happy's trip to Hargeon. In all honesty, he didn't know what to make of her at first, mostly because he found her in a crowd of women, surrounding some purple-haired jerk who was calling himself "Salamander"... but he'd worry about him, later. At the time, the only thing he could focus on was his empty stomach.

So imagine his surprise when he got treated to lunch. He was instantly sold. Anybody who was willing to pay for his food had to be a nice person!

So, as he scarfed down whatever he could grab and filled his hungry belly, the girl rambled on and on about how she wanted to join the most popular guild in Fiore. Instantly, that rang a bell with Natsu because he was a member of that guild. He just didn't say it at the time because... well, for one, he was still too busy eating, and for another, the girl didn't exactly say it herself.

Lucy... that was a nice name, actually.

Another thing he noticed was how absolutely giddy she got whenever she talked about the guild, even if Happy said it might have been a bit annoying. It actually made Natsu feel pretty good inside, hearing such nice things about it coming from a random stranger. Plus, even though he probably wouldn't admit it... she had a rather cute smile when she talked, too. Normally, he'd hear about how Fairy Tail was a guild of reckless juvenile delinquents... whatever that meant. Maybe when he got back, he could tell Gramps all about her!

So after lunch was had and Happy strolled around town for a bit, he couldn't help overhearing a certain conversation regarding that same "Salamander" from earlier. When he heard the name of Fairy Tail in that sentence, he knew something was up, immediately. He never saw that man before, let alone knew his name, so how did he know about the Fairy Tail Guild?

If there was one thing Natsu couldn't stand, it was a liar... especially when that liar tries to commit crimes under the name of the guild he cherished. As if things weren't bad enough, the moment he dropped down onto that yacht, he found her there, of all people... and though she had a look of shock on her face from his entrance, he could smell the bitter saltiness of her tears.

He knew he heard her voice earlier... yelling at her captors for disgracing the use of magic.

Not only was this girl nice and passionate about the guild she wanted to join... she was righteous about how magic should be used.

Now he was going to teach these punks a lesson... but first, he had to get off that damn boat.

By some miracle, his wish was granted, because the next thing he knew, he was standing on solid ground, his stomach no longer twisting in knots from his motion sickness. What's more, it looked like Happy managed to get Lucy to safety, along with all the other girls that had gotten captured, somehow. Now that they were out of harm's way there was only one thing to do.

Kick bad guy butt.

All it took was a good 2 minutes and that poser was down for the count... and the harbor was also in smolders, but he got the job done at least!

As usual, the army had to be a bunch of party poopers. As they were drawing nearer, Natsu realized that he had come all this way, hoping for a clue as to the whereabouts of the dragon that he called his father, but instead wound up on a cold trail. That's when he glanced over at Lucy.

Well... he wasn't going home, empty-handed.

So, he snatched her up by the wrist and sprinted off as fast as he could, dragging her along with him.

"Where the heck are you taking me?!"

"Just come on! You said you wanted to join the Fairy Tail Guild, didn't ya?!"

As she gaped at him in surprise... he gave her an impish grin.

"So let's go!" he told her... and soon, that same smile appeared on her face.

He knew, right then and there, that she was going to fit right in at Fairy Tail. If he liked her, then he was damn certain that everyone in the guild would, too.

#fairy tail #natsu x lucy #nalu #fairy tail oneshot

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capri-ramblings · 4 years ago

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[A Hyena's Nip] Part 2

Another month passed by and you weren't looking any better. In fact, you looked terrible. Your complexion had turned unnaturally pale and your eyes had dark,heavy bags under them even when you tried to hide it with some of the concealer Epel got you from Vil. Your weight loss shocked Mr. Vargas and Riddle threatened to send you back home himself if Crowley didn't address your condition.

Thus, explains the current situation you were in; Being dragged along by the Heartslyabul boys as Riddle marched through the school halls to get to Crowley's office. He seemed like he was almost on fire and the way Trey held you up made you realise how much of a big brother he looked like then.

"Hey,you really okay there?" Cater was the one who asked, he had his usual perky but nervous smile on when he turned to you. "We could slow down a bit if you're tired"

You clenched your jaws and tried to pull away from Trey's grip, voice shaky yet harsh when you snapped.

"I'm fine. I told you guys, didn't I? Can we just stop this?"

"You look half dead." Riddle refuted, he wasn't looking back to you but you could tell he was scowling. "If you think you can act all suicidal with me, you're wrong. I'll have your head before you end up killing yourself like this."

"You do realize you just threatened me with homicide to avoid a suicide?"

Riddle didn't answer, instead Trey and Cater both looked to you sympathetically and when Crowley's office door was in sight, Riddle swung it open so hard you thought it'll come off.

You were expecting Crowley to jolt from his seat from behind his desk, but the scene that played out was completely different.

Ruggie was in the office, along with Crowley and a small group of students wearing Pomefiore's armband. It looked like Riddle's intrusion had disrupted a conversation but anyone with eyes could tell from the tense expression on everyone that it was more of an argument than a negotiation.

"Mr. Rosehearts,what's the meaning of this? Barging in without notice, and cutting off my very crucial sentence as well. You better have a good explanation for this."

You were placed between Trey and Cater and so he didn't noticed you at first, but then Riddle went and pulled you by the arm and practically shoved you forward. You almost fell if it weren't for Ace and Deuce immediately coming to support you.

"The result of your neglect." Riddle said haughtily and Crowley had to actually look at you to see how different you were from when he last saw you.

"What on earth happened to you?" You didn't expect Crowley to sound so worried but then again you always kinda believed he wasn't such a bad guy in the first place.

Ruggie's expression changed as well. From irritated and annoyed, to extremely surprised and a bit taken aback if not concerned.

"Why the hell did you looked like you were shoved off a cliff?" Was his first thought, the second one being a question that immediately sent alarms blaring in his head.

"What happened to you?"

Ruggie didn't want to consider it was probably from his harsh rejection, but it fit didn't it? He saw you a couple of times after the confession and he wouldn't really say you looked that great, but you didn't look like...this.

You'd pass him in hallways between class exchanges and a few more times during lunch break, but he noted how you always kept your head down, even when he was sure you didn't noticed him there.

Was it all because of what he did?

"Whats happening here...?" You were surprised to hear yourself utter the words despite the heat of bile threatening to puke itself out the moment you saw Ruggie turn his head to look at you.

But you couldn't let your expression fall, because if you did,he would know. Ruggie couldn't know you were crying because of him. A small part of you felt like he didn't deserve it.

"A crime's been committed! Our precious rolls of silk have been stolen!" One of the Pomefiore students said, cheeks heated by irritation.

"From right under our nose too!" Another added.

"And the culprit is standing right with us!"

"Ruggie?" Riddle was the one who spoke up this time, and brows furrowed and lips pursed. You weren't sure the rising irritation came from the fact he didn't care about their stupid silk or because he didn't quite believed their accusation.

You knew it was the second one for you.

"Why would I steal a bunch of stupid silk? The cafeteria sandwiches costs more than those!"

"How dare you! First you steal from us with your measly hands and now you're insulting the materials Vil himself chose? Why is such a lowly person like you even here at this academy? Go back to your den,hyena."

Ruggie's blood boiled at that and he was about to show these damned privileged herbivores what hyenas like him could do to them when someone else stepped forward.

"Take that back!" Your words left you faster than you could process them, and the amount of anger they carried bellied the weak opposition you gave by standing in front of Ruggie.

Your chest was heaving and the floor beneath your feet seemed to sway but you didn't care. You gritted your teeth and shoved an equally accusing finger towards the three students.

"Where the hell is your proof if you're so damned confident that he took them,huh? Running your mouth like a bunch of kindergarteners...Is this what Vil teaches his underclassmen?"

"H-Hey,___...Take it easy, you're wobbling" Ruggie's presence behind you made you dizzy but it felt good to have him near you and hearing him so worried. Call it creepy or pathetic,but when he placed a hand on your shoulder to help balance out your stance, your heart fluttered.

"No. This is wrong. Crowley,you can't let them throw insults like that to other students! Everyone here has their rights to attend despite where they came from or whether or not they're noble, Ruggie is the same! He isn't some thief who goes taking stuff just because he can!"

Crowley stiffened at your bold statement,but he nodded his head and his glowing eyes narrowed. Yes,he shared the same ideal as you. This is not how prestigious students from a prestigious school acts!

"___ has a sound point. If you feel Mr.Bucchi has stolen your goods,I assume you have the proof for it."

The three students shared glances,panicked and doubtful, but when one of them wanted to speak up, Crowley's office door slammed opened.

"HEADMASTER,I MADE A MISTAKE!"

It was Kalim who entered the scene now, and with a very annoyed Jamil and a few Scarabia students carrying rolls of what looked to be silk trailing behind him.

"What in the world?"

"Kalim! Don't go running off like that! The others won't be able to catch up with you." Jamil almost growled out the words but upon seeing that there were others, he pulled back his expression and let out a heavy sigh before pulling Kalim by the collar.

"You're going to cause trouble for people if you don't calm down,Kalim."

"Ah.. Sorry,sorry..."

Kalim lifted his gaze to look at Crowley when his gaze caught the Pomefiore students and almost immediately his expression beamed.

"Jamil! Look,it's them!" He was pointing at the three boys, oblivious to the fact that the tension in the room reared in a rather awkward direction due to his intrusion.

Riddle was the first to disperse this fact, crossing his arms severely as he sent a glare in Kalim's direction.

"It would serve a great purpose if you explain why on earth you're here,Kalim. I thought you were redesigning your dorm today."

"Oh,we were! I even had specially designed carpets to replace the old ones we have but then when I came to take them... Well...", Kalim hung his head low,hands scratching the nape of his neck.

Jamil shook his head and gestured the other students to step forward.

"It seems like Kalim took something other than the carpets by accident."

The Pomefiore students had their expression warped as they watched the Scarabia students bring forward the rolls of silk they had lost, and hearing the sneering hum of Ruggie beside them as the realization of the truth unfurled before them.

"I guess my excitement got the better of me again. But I wanted to give them back of course! So I went to your office, Headmaster so we could fix this but looks like everything sorted on its own!" Kalim let out a laugh as Jamil sighed once more and Riddle shook his head.

You on the other hand was going to fall flat on your face from the sudden dizziness hazing up your thoughts when Ace and Deuce immediately came to support you.

Tethering on your toes, you sent them a grateful smile but didn't dare look back to Ruggie.

Crowley dismissed the whole thing instantly after matters between Pomefiore and Scarabia were settled, though he left the boys who accused Ruggie with a warning before making them apologize.

Riddle made sure Crowley came to give you proper care with whatever it is you needed at your dorm, even when you told them all you wanted was sleep.

They did walk you back though, Ace and Deuce making light conversation while Trey and Cater discussed your schedule with Riddle. Apparently your seniors felt that you weren't handling your time properly and thus took it on themselves to ensure you had a good guideline to go along with.

You wanted to sigh and tell them to stop fussing over you but it somehow felt nice, being cared for when all you were feeling was the deadpan weight of your own doubts crushing your form. They really did feel like family and for a moment,you actually forgot about Ruggie.

Until, of course, he came knocking on your door a few hours after. The night already began blanketing the dorm when you came down from your room and opened your front door to see Ruggie staring right at you.

You had asked Grim to get it at first but then he began whining and kept bothering the ghosts to do it until you decided that it was better (and quicker) to do it yourself. Though, you were definitely regretting that choice now.

"Hey" Ruggie threw a small wave, lips parted in a smile that revealed his canines. You tried to not look dazed, to act like you completely forgot the day's incident, but it was a lot harder to play dumb when your stomach was lurching about at the mere sight of him.

What was wrong with you? Ruggie had blew you off and made you feel disgusted with your sexuality. You should've hated him by now.

And yet, you waited a second longer to drink up the sight of him before speaking.

"Hi."

It's not the fact that you sounded so soft that made Ruggie clear up his throat, it was the sudden feeling of warmth budding inside his stomach from remembering what you did today that left him feeling off.

"So,um,I just wanted to sa—"

"Did you want to come in?" You unintentionally cut him off,taking him by surprise as Ruggie's brows arched and he stood there underneath your doorframe just staring at you with his curious eyes.

You had to blink twice before scratching the back of your neck and hastily apologizing to which Ruggie replied with a dismissive wave and a casual "Yeah sure" to your invitation.

You didn't know which was worst; Ruggie acting like he didn't emotionally scar you or the hot swell of blush tinting your cheeks.

"I could get you a drink or something if you want?"

You were trying to find a way to escape this situation, clinging to the hope of Ruggie just changing his mind and walking away. But then he shook his head and crossed his arms, his gaze turning still once it focused on you.

"I wanna talk to you about today" He said, then added, "And about the other day,when you confessed."

The lump in your throat seemed to shift into a heavy weight which dropped to the pit of your stomach and grated along your inner walls. The way Ruggie was looking at you then brought back the pain of hearing his words on that fateful day, where you poured out your heart and watched as Ruggie trampled on it before leaving you alone to count the shards of your broken heart.

You wanted to sit down, but your legs felt shackled and all you could really do was just look up at him.

Ruggie felt like punching himself in the face as he stared at your pleading eyes. You were desperately trying to tell him to leave weren't you? He didn't have to hear the words to understand the deep remorse you were holding back in your gaze.

He knew damn well that if he moved to touch you, you'd break down crying, and really,he wouldn't blame you. Not after what he did.

See,Ruggie was convinced that the reason he acted the way he did to you was because he wanted to spare you the heartbreak of a relationship that probably wouldn't have lasted long but if he was being honest now which he was, Ruggie did it because he was scared. You were both boys attending an only boys academy goddamn it, the fact that you had came up to him and confessed cause a panic to stir inside him.

Ruggie wasn't all that experienced with girls, having another guy like you that way was something out of his comfort zone. So, he lashed out. He admits that. He didn't know how to react, didn't felt safe trying to tell you how he felt.

He knew he didn't hate you, but did he like you the way you liked him? Could he like you so intimately? There shouldn't be anything wrong with that, and yet...

Ruggie had to run his fingers through his hair before biting the insides of his cheek and finally breaking the silence.

"First off, thanks for having my back when those prissy stuck ups jabbed their fingers at me for stealing their silk. I didn't really expect anyone to come in to help me like that. Especially not you, at least not after what I did," He was talking so rapidly, eyes seemingly flaring as he watches you fidget. "And secondly, about your confession that day and what I said and how I said them, look I didn't seem to care then but—" Ruggie paused, jaws tensing up before he clenched them hard.

You wanted to run away from this. You weren't ready. Your heart was going to get broken again.

Ruggie's gaze softened suddenly despite his body remaining stiff and awkward in your presence. He looked like he wanted to whisper a secret to you and somehow you felt yourself falling for him again.

It was so pathetic, you didn't even realized you began crying until Ruggie came to grab you by your shoulders.

"Hey,hey,don't cry! Shit,fuck." He lifted his gaze to the staircase, noting the sounds of other people upstairs. No footsteps seemed to abruptly stop or move in a direction that indicated someone was coming down, but Ruggie still moved you further from it in case someone did decide to check on you.

"I'm sorry" You mumbled, furiously wiping your tears with the sleeves of your shirt. "Sorry, sorry, I'll stop, I'll..."

You couldn't. Your tears seemed endless. The weight of suppressing all that emotion finally caught up with you, didn't it?

This was not how Ruggie imagined this meeting to end up like. He was expecting some backlash, a sort of bitterness and anger on your side, but this? This was a disaster.

You looked so vulnerable. Damn it, you probably are! Shoulders slumped and body shivering as your cheeks flushed red and your voice cracked each time you spoke. Ruggie thought only girls cried this hard, but he overlooked the fact that you've always been a soft hearted person, you always seemed to be a bit more sensitive compared to most.

And for fuck's sake, boys cry and get hurt too.

Guilt was slapping him hard on the face, and it stung like the time he was affected by Leona's unique magic. Had he hurt you this bad? He didn't know you liked him this much to allow him to dishevel you in this manner.

Or maybe he did know and he was just being a jerk.

"____,please don't cry. I can't talk to you like this if you keep crying. Hey,here take this"

He took a small handkerchief and wiped away your tears, so gentle and tentatively, it had you staring at him as if you were looking up to some kind of caretaker.

"I know what I said was kinda shitty but I just didn't know how to react. We're both boys so it was pretty off course when you said you liked me...and that made me freak out"

God, why was he mumbling?

"Thing is I never thought anyone would like a nobody like me,okay? I come from a dump, probably would've stayed there if I didn't get enrolled here and girls back home always liked the bigger guys,the ones like Leona or Jack"

"You're better off being with someone else,that's what I wanted to say, what I wanted to tell you that day"

Ruggie was holding up your face with both his hands now, and for once, you actually saw how hurt he was by his own words, how vulnerable he looked.

You were sniffling and breathing hard, unable to actually talk, but when Ruggie's expression turned into a painfully tight one and he suddenly engulfed you in a hug. You swore your heart stopped.

"R-Ruggie..?"

"Shut up."

He was so close to you then, the way his voice sounded was like a growl and you clamped your lips shut.

"I'm a fucking loser,____." Ruggie said, through gritted teeth. "That's something I had to come to terms with a long time ago, and you getting hurt like this is proof of it. Even now, I'm just talking about myself. I didn't even say sorry. Don't you see that? I lashed out on you cause you had the nerves to say you liked another guy, and I'm here still pretending I could be king."

What a heavy thing to say out loud. But, somehow it gave you strength.

Your hands gripped onto Ruggie and furiously you buried your face in his chest,aware of it taking him by surprise as you felt his body went stiff.

"I still like you." You mumbled, voice muffled. Ruggie furrowed his brows.

"What are you—"

You gripped his body harder, making him groan as you pulled him into a tighter hug. Your chest burning with clarity.

"Loser or King, I'll always like you and I'll keep saying it until you like yourself too."

You lifted your head, eyes tear stained but lips pulled into a small smile as you took in Ruggie's stunned expression.

"So you better make up for being a jerk and make me fall for you again."

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland scenarios #twisted wonderland fanfic #twst wonderland angst #twst ruggie bucchi #twst ruggie #ruggie x reader #male reader insert #twst ruggie angst

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thevolturiarejustbetter · 3 years ago

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Alec Volturi-PART3

Alice Cullen was starting to lose confidence in herself.

How could she have missed something this huge? The good news was that the Volturi were no longer interested in Bella and had given them their deadline. A deadly deadline that would eventually determine whether their whole family got to live or die, if not fulfilled.

But there was another huge problem. Bella’s younger sister meant everything to her. Almost even more than Edward meant to her, which meant that if her sister was to stay in a different continent, Bella again would fall into depression effecting Edward and the rest of the Cullens.

Although the Cullens had never met Ava Swan personally, they knew almost every aspect of her life, and they could never forgive themselves if they had forced the young innocent human with the most deadliest coven in the world and their existence.

And here they all were.

The coven every vampire to ever exist dreaded to face. The volturi. Edward suddenly started to regret every decision he ever made during the past 6 months. This all would’ve never happened if it wasn’t for his relationship problems and there was no winning. If they were to brin Ava safely back home, she would face extreme depression, even worse than Bella because of having to experience the mate and bloodsinger pull. Of course the only person more depressed would be Alec but Edward could care less.

But he knew Aro along with the rest of their coven would do anything for their four high guards especially the witch twins as they were like family. Edward knew how they all felt about each other and whether he wanted to admit it or not, their cruelty didn’t cancel out the genuine family relations between the high guards,the kings, and of course the rarely seen wives.

There was literally no good possible solution the two Cullens could think of.

Caius was annoyed and confused. He knows his brothers well enough to come to the conclusion that they too were also confused. They knew most vampires had soulmates but having a mate and a bloodsinger was not only extremely rare but the bond would also be incredibly strong. Caius also knew his two brothers well enough to determine that all three were masking their happiness for Alec, who was almost like a son to Caius while Jane was like a daughter to Aro. But of course there was a complication. The girl had to be human and be related to nonetheless troublemaking Bella Swan.

Marcus sat up attentive. The black smoke of none other than Alec was surrounding the girl who was now tired and clearly in pain from slapping the suicidal and depressed vampire much to his amusement. The human was feisty and different from her older sister. He could tell that his brother Aro and Caius were delighted but no one in the room knew what actions they were going to take towards the young human girl who was now senselessly on the floor, with the psychic shaking her worriedly.

Alec knew what he needed to do. He needed her. She was his. The only word going through his mind was Mine

She was his and he knew that the masters and their wives along with everyone in this damn castle were not going to stand in his way. He knew that no one was ever going to challenge him or stand in his way. No one ever had. His masters treated him like their precious son and had him on a silver platter. Of course the three brothers would guide advise him on what to do but Alec knew that he would get whatever he wanted. No one was going to land a hand on her because she was his.

Demetri and Felix tried their best to hold in their laughs. The situation in front of them was absolutely hilarious. A brooding vampire mistaking his mate’s existence asking for death, almost breaking one of their sacred laws, being reunited with his mate, and back in the courtroom with his human and the other human who had just slapped the shit out of the vampire continually. And that brave feisty human happened to be the mate of Alec. This was the most fun they had in a millennials.

Ava felt numb. Her vision was blurry and she was.. relaxed? For the first time in months she was so relaxed and felt stress free. How was this possible? Her sister and her lover had committed a serious crime and they were apparently supposed to die. Was it the gummies? She had never felt this way before and the next thing she was an angelic looking boy who she guessed was about 17.

He’s hot she giggled.

Bella relaxed a bit as Ava seemed to be doing well. She seemed to be back to her normal goofy self. Her self before Italy. Other than the fact she was on the floor in pain with her severely bruised hand and the mysterious black smoke surrounding her. But she saw Alice and Edwards face of relief and she knew that her sister wasn’t in pain. At least not physically.

“I’m cold. What is wrong with my human. I just took away her sense to feel and yet she seems to be a bit hysterical.” Alec’s angelic voice echoed throughout the room.

Demetri and Felix snickered as Jane looked at the human on the floor terrified

Marcus and Caius felt amusement on their faces while Aro seemed to be in awe

“She took some candy before we got here that causes human to not be themselves. They call it drugs but the ones she took are legal in her town and they’re mostly harmless” Edward voice answered

Ava started to slip in and out of consciousness as all she could hear were the pretty angelic voices of these- these monsters? Vampires?

She felt Alice’s glove less hands run through her hair massaging her scalp and relaxing her even more as she started to gain more control of her body. She got up to see the room spinning and the black smoke was gone. She soon fell back down to Alice’s lap as she heard more voices.

“Well what an interesting turn of events!” Aro exclaimed his loud authoritative yet gentle voice echoing throughout the court.

“It seems that Carlisle owes us an explanation.” Caius responded coldly

“Now now brother. Everything is fine here. Our dear Alec has finally found his source of true happiness like the rest of us. It seems now the only logical thing to do is call Carlisle and make some plans.” Aro trailed off grinning widely looking at Bella and Ava on the floor.

“Give us one year. One year and we’ll change Bella. Give Ava one year of her humanity. She only recently turned 16 years old and would like to spend more time as a human. We’ll all be back in a year and we know Ava needs protection so she can reside with us for a year. Please Aro.” Alice looked at Aro as hiss and growls erupted the room, all from the same vampire.

Alec

He was displeased. How could he not see his angel for a whole year. That was like a death sentence.

“Now now Alec. Let’s all understand what’s at stake here. We’ll improve and expand Alice’s plan more. You can have one year but must be back with my dear friend Carlisle and our sweet Ava every month to check in.” Aro offered.

“We’ll take it. Ava will be back with Carlisle and I along with Alice every month for one year to check in on her safety.” The offer was too much but Edward knew this was going to be the best they could get and he needed to accept fast before Alec refused. He knew that although Alec and Ava had spent less than an hour together and hadn’t even shared a conversation, their bond was much more stronger than what he and Bella had even after spending a whole year together. He had seen it in Marcus’ mind.

Bella and him were bloodsingers but he knew that Alec, a vampire royalty who had spend milleniums,centuries, thousands of years without his soulmate, would do anything to be with and protect his mate even if she was human.

Alec’s dark red eyes suddenly darkened even more almost turning black

“No. No no no no,” Ava heard the same angelic voice snarl/hiss one word over and over again, frustration and anger lacing his voice this time. For some reason, she wasn’t happy to hear his frustrated voice. She didn’t even know who the hell he was, yet she wished to hear him happy?

Oh right. He’s supposedly my soulmate.. Ava thought, she could feel Edwards stare on her again.

“Now now Alec they’ll be back at the end of each month. You’ll see her again in two weeks. We’ll all see dear Ava again.” Aro sighed happily.

“Felix, Demetri escort our dear friends out and I’ll be in touch with Carlisle about our offer.” Aro grinned towards Aro motioning for Felix and Demetri.

As they left the room, Alice was holding her but Ava’s head was clear enough to see what was happening. The boy. She yearned for him. She didn’t know why. They hadn’t even talked before. She could feel his stare pierce through her skull and she turned around and started to physically depends on Alice.

She didn’t know what the hell was going on.

#alec volturi #demetri volturi #felix volturi #volturi #twilight #edward cullen #alice cullen #aro volturi #caius volturi #new moon

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lockefanfic · 4 years ago

Text

Business Trip - Pt 15: Masks

Before you knew it you were on your feet, and striding over to where Joy is standing with her back to you, sipping from her water bottle. You step up behind her, and place your hands on her hips.

The sudden contact startles her slightly, but she doesn’t resist for long - you could tell she almost expected it, and that she welcomed the feel of you pressed against her back. She leans back into you, and you take it as permission to wrap your arms closer around her torso, delighting in the feel of her bare midriff against your forearms.

“Maybe you can finish what you’ve started now,” you say, bringing your mouth to her ear and placing a soft kiss on the side of her neck. You don’t see her do it, but you can almost feel her lips curling into a smile.

The second you heard the door creak open, you knew it was trouble. At the moment, though, you didn’t know it would herald a fundamental change in your life.

The creaky front door, badly needing some lubrication or perhaps new hinges, announced the arrival of two young women into your apartment, shaking you from your quiet reverie as you and Sana shared breakfast on your kitchen table.

“Yeah, I dunno, I kinda prefer Lucky Charms over Frosted Flakes,” came the first female voice - a voice you were well familiar with, for it belonged to your girlfriend, Hirai Momo.

“Only losers prefer Lucky Charms,” came the reply from a younger voice - Chou Tzuyu.

“Well then I guess-”

Momo’s sentence is cut short as she and Tzuyu enter the kitchen to find you and Sana, the latter wearing only a long t-shirt of yours, having breakfast. Because fate had a sense of humor, Sana just so happened to be in the middle of a bite of Frosted Flakes.

It was one of those moments in your life when time stood absolutely still - the three women in your life that you had most recently had an intimate experience with, one your girlfriend, one more or less your part-roommate and part-ward, and the third a former flame - fate was, truly, an outright comedian. Sana and Momo stare at each other, their gazes drifting somewhere between surprise on Sana’s part and near contempt on Momo’s. Tense seconds pass in heavy silence.

“Sana,” Tzuyu says, showing remarkable composure in being the first one to actually say something, “Hisashiburi.”

“Hisashiburi,” Sana answers, her pronounciation slow, her eyes still locked on the older Japanese woman.

The teenager’s gaze drifts back and forth between Momo and Sana. She was young, but not dense; she knew something was going on here, even if she didn’t know the specifics or the history, and she knew that whatever it was, you and Momo had some talking to do about it.

“Sana, how is the Japanese office doing? Perhaps you can tell me about it in the living room, or something…”

“Yes,” Sana says, seeing an exit when it was shown to her, “I’d be happy to do that.”

Sana and Tzuyu scurry into the living room, the older girl holding down the short t-shirt that was the only article of clothing she was wearing in a vain attempt to cover more of herself.

As soon as the two young women have left, you stand up and begin to speak, only for Momo to cut you off.

“Don’t. Just don’t,” Momo says, her tone giving away a hint of hurt in addition to the outright anger she was only barely keeping from the surface. She gives you a look that cuts deep into your heart before turning and starting to leave.

You catch up with her in the hallway, and despite calling her name the woman keeps walking towards the elevator, only stopping when you grasp her upper arm. Momo twists her arm away from you - she had never done that before, never resisted your touch, and the knowledge of that hurt you deeply.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Momo spits, the anger and hurt mixed plainly on her face.

“Momo, it’s nothing. I had to tell Sana what happened at my meeting in Seoul with SM, and one thing led to another. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“You know I don’t give a shit about that,” Momo says, crossing her arms, “I don’t give a shit who you fuck. God knows you’re living with a teenager that’s more or less a fuck buddy. But her!? She just tried to destroy us. Or did you forget about that after she batted her fucking eyelashes at you?”

“That’s not it, Momo. SM really used her, and threatened to-”

“I don’t care if they threatened to throw her off a bridge. She stole our tech. She betrayed us, and if it weren’t for some clever work on our part we’d be out on our asses. Our careers, and probably our lives, ruined. She committed a crime just to spite us. And you’re just going to forget about that? You’re-”

Momo stops mid sentence, her hand coming to cover her mouth as a look of realization appears on her features. More seconds pass in silence as Momo struggles to put words to the idea that had just made itself known, unwelcomed, in her heart.

“Do you… do you have feelings for her again?”

You open your mouth, ready to immediately deny her accusation. You want to tell her no, you didn’t have feelings for Minatozaki Sana, and that no, you were never did - but it takes a second - a split second - longer than you thought it would. Later you would wonder what exactly caused that momentary delay; but you knew what it was. Momo knew. You both knew. She caught it, caught that split second, and knew what it meant.

“Oh my god,” she says, “you… you have feelings for Sana.”

“Momo, I-”

“No. I… I knew you always did. I knew it,” Momo continues, her gaze cast downward and her head shaking slightly from side to side, eyes fluttering open and closed in a vain attempt to keep the tears gathering at the corners of her eyes from spilling over. She takes small steps backward, as though she were physically repulsed by you. Her limbs quiver, and her voice shakes as she gives nervous voice to her realization.

“You only settled for me because she lived in Japan. I was easier. I work with you, and live just a few minutes away. And I was already in love with you. But you wanted her. You always have. I’m just a consolation prize...”

“Momo, stop. Stop this. Let’s sit down and talk-”

“No. No, I’m done talking. I’m done here,” she says as a single tear falls from her right eye. It takes an eternity to fall down her cheek, but when it hits her chin she finds the strength to say one final thing.

“...We’re done here.”

Hirai Momo turns and heads towards the stairs of the fire escape. You want to stop her, but your limbs do not respond to the orders of your brain, and you remain frozen, overwhelmed by weight of Momo’s last words and the meaning they carried.

You realize, as you stumble, defeated, back to your apartment, that Momo admitted she was in love with you. And this was how you found out; not during some romantic outpouring of affection, but as she was breaking up with you. The pain of it struck you hard, and you found yourself pressing your forehead against the wall of your hallway, your hands balling into fists as you cursed the set of circumstances that led you to losing most important relationship of your life.

---

“At least you’re racking up the frequent flier points.”

Park Choa’s observation shakes you from your quiet reverie, and you physically shake your head in an attempt to at least acknowledge her comment. You rub your brow with tense fingers in a vain attempt to ease your mind - you felt a headache coming.

“You look like hell, boss,” Choa adds, adding further insult to injury.

“Thanks, Choa,” you answer sarcastically.

The two of you are about four hours into the fifteen hour flight to Seoul. In an attempt to distract yourself from the afternoon’s events with Momo, you emailed Joy from Red Velvet using the email address she left in your jacket. She insisted that meeting up in person was the only way she would be willing to discuss just how she could help you, and so you found yourself hopping on the next flight out of town. You decided to bring Choa along to help translate, unsure of Joy’s fluency in English and knowing that Wendy probably wouldn’t be present - not that you wanted her to be there, anyway.

After filling her in on the history between Sana, Momo and yourself, Tzuyu, in another instance of appearing wiser than her years, called you out on it - she said that leaving for Seoul was simply running from your problems with Momo instead of dealing with them and perhaps salvaging your relationship. You preferred to see it as finding some time away to clear your head - not that you were particularly succeeding at it at the moment.

“It’s understandable. It’s been a pretty crazy month or so for you.”

“It’s been a pretty crazy year or so, more like,” you reply, drawing an understanding nod from Choa.

“Listen, boss,” she begins, “We should get this discussion out of the way before we land. You know it’s not usually my place to comment on your personal life. But Momo is one of my closest friends. And you have to admit, from her point of view, seeing you with Sana right after what she did to us in Taiwan doesn’t look good.”

“I know, I know,” you answer, trying in vain to rub your temples harder as if it would keep the impending headache at bay.

“I also know that she really had feelings for you. I think she’s was probably in love with you, to be quite honest. And I also know that if you really tried, if you both really worked at it, that you two can get over this. You’ll have to work your ass off to make it up to her, but if she really loves you - and I believe she does - you’ll both get over this.”

“I know,” you answer again, this time truly knowing that what Choa was saying was true. You found yourself being thankful once more that the young woman next to you was in your life. Not only was she a great colleague - she was an even better friend. She told you what you needed to hear, whether you liked it or not.

“I appreciate it, Choa,” you add, “and when we get back I’ll speak to Momo about this. Maybe we can work it out.”

“Good,” the girl replies with a smile, “now do you need a drink or something to help you sleep? Wine? Beer? A handjob?”

You chuckle out loud at her last suggestion, and the bright smile on Choa’s round, cute face brings a smile to your own.

“Thanks, but I think I can make do.”

“Good night, boss.”

“Good night, Choa.”

For the umpteenth time you lean your head back against the airplane head cushion and close your eyes. Mercifully, you eventually find your way to sleep.

---

“Why is she here?”

You knew enough about women to know that the look Joy gives Choa is one of complete and utter disdain.

“Choa is here to translate. I wasn’t sure of your fluency in English. We can continue this conversation in Korean, if you would be more comfortable in your native tongue.”

“I can speak English just fine, thank you very much,” Joy replies, giving you a sharp look. Her English is moderately accented, but she clearly had a good grasp on the language.

“Nonetheless, Choa is a valued colleague. She will stay,” you state, knowing without seeing that your defense of her has caused a smug smile to appear on Choa’s lips. At the very least, the two women clearly did not like each other and Choa’s presence would throw off any plans Joy might have had that centered around you being alone. You were happy to take any advantage you could get.

Joy lets out a disapproving snort through her nose. Turning away from the two of you, she takes a sip of the iced americano she had ordered from the small, mostly empty coffee shop the three of you had chosen to meet in.

“Let’s start with the basics. Why, exactly, do you want to help us?”

Joy doesn’t shift her gaze from whatever is capturing her attention outside. Perhaps she is on the lookout for SM spies who wouldn’t look kindly on her meeting with a potential target. Perhaps she is merely still annoyed at Choa’s continued presence.

“I have my reasons, and they’re my own.”

“That’s not good enough,” Choa spits, her voice carrying a sharpness that you weren’t used to seeing.

“I will tell you when and if I want to,” Joy answers, “and not before.”

“Fine,” you say, “then maybe you can tell us how exactly you can help.”

Joy smirks before finally turning her attention to you.

“I have complete access to Red Velvet’s private records. Video recordings, texts, emails, evidence of hacking, all of it.”

“And this will help us, how?” you ask.

“Red Velvet is into some shady shit,” Choa states, “isn’t that right, Joy?”

Joy lets another snort of annoyance out of her nose.

“Our division is dedicated to… convincing difficult industry opponents into making decisions that are beneficial to our company.”

“Through blackmail, extortion, hacking secure private servers, that kind of thing?” Choa hisses.

Joy frowns at Choa, her dislike for the older girl brimming to the surface, but she doesn’t answer.

“And it’s your job to seduce people, if that’s what it takes,” you say, knowing from the last time you met that Joy was clearly talented in that field.

“And you record the whole thing, and threaten to send it to wives and girlfriends,” Choa finishes.

Joy crosses her arms, anger evident in her soft features.

“I don’t have to sit here and take this,” she hisses through her teeth as she stands up from her chair, “I came here because I wanted to help you, but if all you’re going to do is insult me…”

“We’re sorry, Joy,” you answer, raising a hand up in a gesture of apology, “please. Sit down. You can understand why we’re suspicious of your intentions, surely.”

“I do,” Joy admits as she slumps back into her chair.

“If you want us to take you seriously, maybe you should tell us why you want to help us.”

Joy takes a moment to compose her answer. Her gaze returns to the window as she seeks answers in the relatively quiet side street of Seoul.

“I’m tired of it.”

The young girl takes a another sip of her americano before continuing. Her face is suddenly soft and vulnerable, the mask of fierce defiance she was wearing just moments earlier falling away to reveal a newfound softness you didn’t know she had.

“I’m tired of being… a tool for Irene and Wendy. They get all the glory and praise, but I do all the work. I’m tired of being… used.”

“And so by helping us, you get back at Irene and Wendy,” Choa says.

“And I get to leave this fucking life and start over,” Joy adds, “and move on from having to be a fucking company whore.”

Silence descends over the coffee table as you and Choa take the time to digest Joy’s statements. There is a sense of vulnerability that has come over the younger girl, her arms crossed defensively around her slim torso, as though protecting herself. Her features are grim but defiant as she continues to stare out the window - she looked tired, mentally and spiritually, if not physically.

“Providing us with Red Velvet’s data would give us some valuable ammunition,” you begin, “in case they continue to go after me or my team. We could threaten to release it, make it public, which Irene and Wendy would clearly want to avoid.”

“They would know that I gave you the data,” Joy says.

“How would they know that?” Choa asks.

“Our data is secure as fuck,” Joy answers, “and every single download or transfer of data is encrypted using a passcode that is specific to the members of Red Velvet. It’s not just virtual security, either - the data is fingerprint and retinal scan protected. I can download all of it, and give it to you, but they would know it was me.”

“And you want our protection afterward,” Choa finishes.

Joy doesn’t answer, only giving a slight nod of her head as confirmation.

You take a moment to weigh your options in your head. Having Red Velvet’s records would be an invaluable weapon, essentially ensuring continued protection against their attacks. It was too valuable an opportunity to pass up.

“We’ll protect you,” you state, “we can move you overseas, provide you with a new career, and ensure that you’re taken care of. But we’ll need the data first, and our IT specialist will need to give it a once over, before we can provide any guarantees.”

Joy gives another small nod of her head.

“This is a big risk for you,” Choa says, “I’ve heard of what Red Velvet can do to people who cross them. Why not just leave? Why go out like this?”

“You don’t understand,” Joy hisses under her breath, “You don’t know the things I’ve had to do to… secure the cooperation of certain industry figures. There are a lot of powerful men out there with disgusting desires.”

Joy’s eyes drift downward, as though unpleasant memories are making themselves known in her mind. You spare a glance at Choa, and notice that the aggressive exterior she had worn earlier on her features had disappeared and left a sympathetic look on her face.

“And I can’t just leave,” Joy adds, “you’ve seen what Red Velvet is capable of. If I left, they would release what I’ve done to the public. How could I move on and find another career, when everyone in the country knows what I did here?”

“We’ll take care of you,” you say, trying to reassure the young woman of your ability to do so. There is a sincerity in her look that convinces you of her desire to leave Red Velvet and better her circumstances.

There is quiet for a few long seconds, the three of you lost in your thoughts.

“We’ll have a flight ready for when you provide the data,” you begin, “It will be important to get you out of the country before they notice the download. You need to get your affairs in order, and get ready to leave. Choa can assist you.”

Next to you, Choa nods, a look of genuine sympathy on her face as she meets Joy’s gaze again - this time, with none of the animosity that marked their initial meeting.

“Thank you, but I won’t need her help,” Joy answers, “I’ve been getting ready for this for a long time. I’ve just been waiting for the opportunity. I can complete the transfer in a few hours at home, where I have secure remote access.”

“Good. Once you’ve downloaded the data, we can send it to Jeongyeon back home. She’ll decrypt it and verify that it’s what we need. We can have you on a plane 12 hours from now. Choa, you’ll make the arrangements?”

“You got it, boss.”

“I’ll go with Joy to her place and verify the download. Once Joy and I have the data, we’ll transfer it to Jeongyeon. Choa, you head back to the hotel, make the travel arrangements and get us ready to leave.. Once that’s done I want us on the next flight home.”

“Done,” Choa states, a look of determination on her face.

Nodding to Joy, the three of you leave the coffee shop.

---

Joy certainly wasn’t kidding when she said that she had been ready to leave for a long time. All of her worldly possessions, it seemed, were crammed into a single carry on sized travel suitcase. Next to it was a bright pink backpack with several toy charms attached to its straps - it seemed slightly out of place given Joy’s mature, reserved nature, but it served as a reminder that at the end of the day this was a young girl searching for a better life.

“I’ve started the transfer to your servers,” Joy says from the kitchen, where she has set up her laptop on the dining table, one of the few pieces of furniture still left in the otherwise empty apartment. You had to log into JYP’s private servers from Joy’s computer to allow the transfer to Jeongyeon.

“Good,” you state as you join her, “how long will it take?”

“Two hours and… fourty six minutes,” she answers, “I’m going to try and cover my tracks, but I’m not sure how effective it’ll be.”

You nod as you take a seat next to her, taking out your phone to send a message to Choa updating her on the status of the data transfer. Joy busies herself with something on her laptop, presumably related to the Red Velvet data she is transferring to JYP servers.

You watch in silence as she works, her features illuminated by the soft glow of the kitchen light and the brightness of her laptop monitor. The sounds of her fingers working on the keyboard are the only noise in the entire apartment.

“There’s water in the fridge, if you want,” Joy says, not looking up from her laptop.

“I’m fine, thanks,” you answer.

“I’d make you something to eat, but I got rid of most of my food.”

“How have you been eating?”

“Takeout, mostly. Or food at the office. We’re well funded, and that means catered meals.”

You nod to yourself as Joy continues to type away.

“This is a big risk for you,” you finally say after a minute or so.

“I know. But I’m done with this life. I’m tired of it.”

“I don’t blame you.”

“I… I’m sorry, by the way,” Joy says softly, her voice low.

“For?”

“For the last time you were here. My orders were to seduce you, do whatever it took to convince you to join SM. Even if it meant fucking you in front of Wendy and Irene.”

“It was kind of sick,” you say, “that they were willing to do that.”

“Now you see why I want to leave,” Joy agrees, finishing up whatever she was working on with a few more keystrokes. Seemingly satisfied with whatever she has completed, she leans back in her chair and lets out a sigh.

“At least now I see why you had no problem saying no,” she continues, “especially since you have hotter girls back home.”

The thought of Sana, Choa, and Tzuyu back home causes a slim smile to appear on your face, but the thought of the most important one of all - Momo - immediately wipes it from your lips.

“You’re gorgeous, Joy. If we’d met under different circumstances I’m sure I wouldn’t have been able to resist.”

Joy smiles for the first time since you’ve met her, and it brought a little light into the dim kitchen. She stands up and goes to the fridge, presumably to grab a water bottle.

“I have to admit I’m a little jealous of them. Part of me is sorry I didn’t get to finish what I started.”

The tone of her words is alluring, to say the least, her voice suddenly soft and seductive as she bends to retrieve the bottle from the fridge. She is wearing a short button up cream blouse that leaves most of her midsection bare, and as her back is turned you take a moment to admire the beautiful curves of her waist and hips. The skintight jeans she is wearing only highlights her figure against the light of the open fridge door.

A part of you knows that you should be on guard, knows what this woman is capable of, what she literally does for a living. But after what happened with Momo, after the tenseness and seriousness of the past couple of days… you were tired of it all. You were tired of having to be on your guard all the time, tired of having to consider what other people wanted and what they needed from you. You wanted to indulge, wanted to simply take something for yourself without care for the consequences.

Part of you wanted to get Momo out of your head, and there was a perfect way of doing so right in front of you.

Before you knew it you were on your feet, and striding over to where Joy is standing with her back to you, sipping from her water bottle. You step up behind her, and place your hands on her hips.

Joy turns to face you, and passion ignites, uncaring of the circumstances that brought the two of you together again, uncaring of your respective histories, or the seriousness of the situation you both found yourself in. You both simply needed a respite from it all, and were happy to find it in each other, if only for the moment.

Your lips crash against each other, and within moments your tongues are exploring each others mouths, happy to discover new tastes and sensations. Your arms roam her body as she presses it against you, caressing the naked skin of her torso, your left hand moving downward to palm a full ass cheek, cursing the thin denim that is keeping you from her skin there. Your right hand is luckier, tracing a path up Joy’s back, under her blouse, delighting in the feel of warm, creamy skin beneath your palm.

Joy is impatient, unwilling to wait any longer than she had to to take this little liaison to the next level. She breaks your kiss to turn your body so that you are leaning against the kitchen counter, and almost immediately her fingers are working your belt. Before you know it your jeans have come undone, and without a moment’s hesitation she reaches between your bodies to grasp your quickly hardening shaft, pumping it up and down with slim fingers, until in just a few seconds you are at full hardness.

“Tell me what you want me to do,” Joy says, the words a seductive hiss from her lips, “fucking use me. Use my body. However you want, as rough as you want. Use me. I want you to.”

It was certainly tempting, especially with Joy’s young, tight body pressed up against yours and a wanton look in her eyes; but there was a part of you that felt some sympathy for the girl, and the fact that being used was essentially what she had to do for a job she hated.

“No, Joy... this time, you can do whatever you want to do.”

There is some surprise in Joy’s eyes as your words sink in - she was obviously used to being taken, on having the will of others imposed on her when it came to sex. But her surprise quickly gave way to an alluring, seductive look, one that was only heightened by her biting her lower lip.

“...really?” she asks, still apparently unsure.

“Yes. You’ve always been told what to do. Now it’s your turn.”

Joy’s uncertainty turns to seductive allure as she licks her lips. Giving your shaft one last pump with her warm hand, she steps away from you before reaching for her own belt and drawing her jeans and tiny pink panties down her hips, bending at the waist to get the skinny denim off her long, slim legs.

Backing away from you, she hops up on the kitchen table and spreads her legs, revealing her glistening, juicy pussy.

“Eat me,” she says, the two syllables dripping with desire. Her eyes are half lidded and close momentarily as she takes one of her own fingers and draws it from the bottom of her slit to the top, swirling her fingertip against her clit.

You take a split second to admire the sight of the young woman revealing herself to you, but your patience doesn’t last long, especially as Joy lets a soft moan leave her lips as she continues to ready herself for you. In a few short steps you approach her and fall to your knees between her spread legs.

You take your time at first, planting light kisses on the soft, tender skin of her inner thighs, heightening her arousal even more if such a thing were even possible; Joy’s light gasps become longer, louder moans as your kisses slowly draw closer and closer to her core. Her right hand is bracing her weight on the table behind her, but her left hand has woven its way through your hair, slowly pressing it closer and closer to her pussy.

“Now… don’t make me wait… don’t tease… taste me.”

You did tell her, afterall, that you would do whatever she wanted, and so you begin your work by giving her a long, slow lick from the bottom of her slit to the very top, gathering a copious amount of her slick, sweet juices on the top of your tongue along the way. Joy lets a sharp gasp escape her lips, the hand on the back of your scalp pressing more incessantly on the back of your head.

You don’t give her any time to recover, and almost immediately after you finish your first lick you immediately dive in for another lick, re-tracing your path from the bottom to the top of her drenched lips, but this time you linger longer at the top of her opening, searching for and quickly finding the small, hardened nub of her clitoris with the tip of your tongue.

“Oh, fuck…” Joy says as you find the center of her pleasure, the warmth radiating from her crotch quickly flowing throughout her body as you continue to give her clit slow, considerate licks, enjoying the taste of her wetness beneath your tongue and the warmth of her soft thighs closing themselves around both of your cheeks.

The tightening of her thighs and legs around your face tell you that she is ready for more. You close your lips around her clit, as close as you can, and with some slight suction, increase the frequency of your licks, drawing an almost immediate response from the girl. Your hands are clutching the outside of her thighs, but you draw your right hand beneath her left leg and, with the tips of your fingers, you begin to tease her pussy lips, drawing your fingertips lightly up and down.

“Put them in,” Joy says, her words a soft hiss, “put them in me.”

You follow her orders, and you slip your middle and ring fingers inside her drenched opening, drawing the loudest moan of the night from the girl. As your fingers slowly penetrate deeper and deeper inside her, you maintain the pace the strength of the licks you are giving her clit, not giving her any time to recover.

Eventually you find a rough patch toward the front wall of her pussy, and the loud gasp that leaves her mouth tells you you have found the right spot - but you don’t stop, and as soon as you find it you begin to give it solid, firm strokes up and down with your fingertips. Joy is positively drenched now, her pussy leaking her sweet juices freely, staining your lips and chin as well as your palm.

“Oh god, keep doing that!” Joy pleads, “keep doing that… right there… right there… oh!”

Joy orgasms, and as she does so the entirety of her body shakes; the other women in your life may have quivered involuntarily, but Joy was different. Her entire body from head to toe is shaking, her thighs vibrating pleasantly against your cheeks. Interestingly, no sound leaves her mouth, although you know even without seeing that her mouth is wide open in a perfect “o”, her vocal chords unable to give voice to the pleasure wracking her senses.

For long seconds it is all you can do to hold her body down by her thighs as she shakes and quivers on the table. You slow your rhythm on both her clit and her g-spot, slowly giving her time to wind down from her high. Eventually she settles down enough, and she brings her left hand, which was originally digging almost painfully into your scalp, down to your cheek. She lifts up your head softly, and you take it as a signal to stop. You give her clit one last soft lick, savoring the sweet, oily slickness of her juices on your tongue one last time.

Joy lifts your head from her crotch, and you slowly draw your fingers from her body, eliciting a last soft gasp as they leave her tight lips.

“Sit down,” Joy says, motioning with her head at the chair next to the table. You take the opportunity to remove your bothersome pants and boxers, knowing what would come next.

She wastes no time, her recent orgasm giving her renewed strength as she hops off the table. To your surprise, Joy takes a quick moment to go to the small backpack of her things, retrieving a small, shiny pair of metal links - handcuffs.

Joy steps behind the chair where you are seated, and she reaches for both of your hands before placing them behind you and placing the handcuffs around your wrists, ensuring to loop them around one of the spines that formed the seat and backrest of the chair. You almost immediately try to move your hands, and you find that you are unable to move very far in the solid, metal restraints.

No sooner have you realized this than she is already straddling you, her legs spread around your hips. Reaching between your bodies, Joy grasps your painfully hard shaft, aiming it at her dripping opening.

“You’re mine now,” she says, her eyes locked unto yours, her face suddenly fierce and aggressive. It is a look that catches you off guard for a moment, given her soft and innocent demeanor.

You are worried for a second by the tone of her words, but you quickly have no more time for doubt given that the young woman was holding your shaft against her naked, drenched pussy. She lingers there for a moment, rubbing the head of your cock against her lips, allowing her juices to lubricate your head; you can feel the heat practically emanating from her, and the pleasure of it is intoxicating.

Finally, Joy shifts her hips downward, impaling herself on your shaft. The long, drawn out gasp that escapes both of your mouths is proof of the sharp spikes of pleasure emanating from your joining. You immediately want to use your hands to grasp her slim, tight torso, but you are unable to move them, your wrists straining uselessly in the handcuffs behind your back.

You expect Joy to take her time and savor the feeling of first penetration, and for a minute or two this is exactly what she does, grinding up and down slowly, taking your shaft in and out of her body. You look down to the wonderful sight of your drenched shaft drilling in and out between her splayed pussy lips, each thrust into her wet tightness drawing a soft moan from the girl as she continues to ride you.

“You’re so… so big,” Joy manages to gasp, “I… see why… those JYP girls like you so much.”

“And you’re… so fucking wet, Joy.”

You weren’t lying - she was certainly one of the wettest girls you’ve been with, on par with Choa, perhaps. You savor the feeling of her pussy as she continues to ride her, and you watch intently as her face is wracked with pleasure, her eyes closing and mouth open.

You press your face against her slim beige tank top, and she immediately takes the hint, taking a moment to quickly undo the buttons keeping the top together at the front. As soon as the buttons are undone she almost tears the garment off her, and the small skin color bra she is wearing beneath that soon joins it on the floor as she is finally fully naked.

As soon as her breasts are exposed you dive in, so to speak, immediately capturing her left breast in your mouth and sucking more forcefully than you thought you would on her nipple that is already tight and hard with arousal.

“Yes!” Joy moans, the soft sound almost a shout as it leaves her lips, “suck on me… suck on me!”

Joy apparently loved the attention you were giving her breasts, and as if to reward you she begins to ride you faster, pumping her body up and down with increasing speed, your shaft pistoning in and out of her hot, tight pussy as the young girl bounces up and down on your lap.

“Oh god… I… I feel it… You feel so good!”

You tear your mouth from her left nipple and quickly switch to her right breast, capturing the hard bud between your lips and sucking hard.

“Oh yes! Like that!”

You would anything to free your hands and palm her soft, warm mounds with your fingers, but your hands can do nothing but strain uselessly against the handcuffs behind your back. Almost out of frustration, you suck even harder on Joy’s nipple, drawing an even louder moan from the girl as her pussy begins to tighten even more around your shaft, the first sign of her impending orgasm.

“I… I’m gonna cum soon,” Joy announces, the tightening of her hot, warm walls around your shaft proof of her words as she continues to bounce up and down on your lap.

You lift your head from her warm chest to stare directly at her, and are delighted to find her staring back at you with flushed features, her cheeks almost pink, her eyes half-lidded in pleasure.

“Look at me when I cum,” Joy orders, and you only have a few seconds to wait before she orgasms again, her body absolutely wracked with pleasure as she begins to quiver just as she did during her first orgasm. Her body is shaking almost violently, and for a moment you wonder if she’s okay, but the intensity in her eyes as she struggles to keep eye contact with you is enough sign to convince you that she is not only okay - she is in absolute bliss.

Joy finally breaks eye contact to throw her head back, involuntarily arching her back and pressing her supple young chest out at you. You take the opportunity to lick her cleavage, enjoying the salty taste of her sweat on her soft skin amidst the soft pulsing of her pussy walls around your cock as they slowly wind down from orgasm.

“Oh, fuck, that was so good,” the young woman gasps as she finally comes down from her high, looking at you once again, bending slightly to cup your face in her hands and draw you into a deep kiss, one borne out of gratitude for sending her to such a peak of pleasure.

“It’s your turn,” the young woman says softly, “I can tell you’re already close. Where do you want to cum?”

You are about to answer before you remember that this evening was all about letting Joy do whatever she wanted.

“I’ll cum wherever you want me to,” you answer, looking directly at her and seeing the enraptured glint in her eyes at your words. She brings her mouth to your left ear before whispering.

“I came in your mouth… it’s only fair you cum in mine.”

Joy slowly lifts her body from yours, and you watch as your shaft slowly appears from between her tight lips, every inch of it absolutely drenched with her juices. Joy quickly drops to her knees, and within moments she is taking your shaft into her mouth.

You curse again that your hands are tied behind your back, as you would want nothing more than to grasp the back of her head as she bobs her head up and down your length. You content yourself with closing your eyes and enjoying the feel of your shaft as it slips in and out between her lips, her tongue swirling around your length and around your head.

“I’m gonna cum soon, Joy,” you admit, her riding earlier bringing you already close to the brink, and her quick oral work threatening to push you over the edge.

“Mmmmm,” she answers, her mouth filled with your cock and unable to form full words. Whatever she said, it didn’t really matter - all that mattered to you was that she was quickening her pace and bringing you to the very edge of orgasm.

She lets you linger there, for just a split second, before she takes you into her mouth one last time, and the feel of her wet mouth smothering your shaft and soft tongue swirling around your cock head drives you to finally, mercifully, cum.

You gasp louder than you were expecting as your orgasm overtakes your senses and you send hot, warm semen shooting from the tip of your cock and into Joy’s waiting, ready mouth, the thick liquid coating the back of her throat as you send stream after stream of it into her willing body. You force every drop of it out of you - you want her to have every single drop of it, want it to coat the back of her mouth and throat.

You feel Joy gag slightly as the thick liquid hits the back of her throat, and you are more pleased than you would care to admit to see thick streams of pearly cum appear from around the corners of her lips, evidence that it was a little too much for her to handle.

“Mmmhmm!” Joy moans around your shaft, the vibrations only serving to raise the pleasure even further. You force the last few streams of semen out of your shaft as you finally wind down from the orgasm, and you similarly force your eyes open to watch as Joy slowly lets your spent cock leave her wet mouth.

She gives your cockhead one last lick with a tongue that is clearly stained white with semen, more of it flowing down her chin. She opens her mouth briefly to show you that it is painted thickly with your cum, before closing her lips and swallowing. It takes her two gulps, but when she is done, she opens her mouth again to show you she has swallowed it all. With thin fingers she cleans up her cum stained chin, scooping up the precious fluid and licking it off her fingers like a delicacy.

“Delicious,” she says, the word never sounding so lustful as it did right then.

“Fuck, that was amazing,” you admit, as Joy finally rises from her knees and makes her way behind you, “now can you get these things off me?”

You work your wrists around in a show of resistance, knowing that Joy was probably already on her way to retrieve the keys from her backpack.

You let her take her time, savoring the post-orgasm bliss as your tense muscles finally relax. You hear what was probably the bathroom door open and close, and are disappointed that Joy decided to go to the bathroom before letting you out of your restraints.

When she returns, she approaches you from behind, and lets her hands rest on your shoulders. She bends slightly to bring her mouth to your right ear.

“Thanks for logging in through my computer and giving me complete access to the JYP servers,” she says, her voice a low whisper.

You are about to turn your head to ask her what it is that she’s talking about, when you feel a sharp prick on the side of your neck. You have only a few seconds to realize that it is a needle, and that Joy has injected something into you. You struggle vainly against the handcuffs that have restrained your arms behind your back, but you already know it is a losing cause.

“Remember what I said earlier-,” she says, her voice containing an edge you hadn’t heard from her yet that night, “...you’re mine.”

Your last thought before you black out is to curse yourself for having fallen into a trap.

#kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #Smut #pov smut #male reader #red velvet #red velvet joy #park sooyoung

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