#you think i was built to be high strung and terrified of breathing?

[whitefawnn]

blood letting (pt. 3)

(c!wilbur x reader)

spoilers for 4/29 stream

pt. 1   pt. 2 pt. 4 pt. 5   AO3

warnings: manipulation, vampires, swearing, gas lighting, threats

note: Read the Warnings

not heavily proof read also,,,

Wilbur stormed out that day, jaw clenched, he didn’t spare me any words after the kiss. I thought I had learned how to live without him due to the months spent apart but knowing the distance wasn’t created by one of us being 7 feet underground made me feel sick. The danger of Dream escaping loomed around every corner. I warned Tommy, and he subsequently he spared me words of Wilbur’s state. Saying he rambled about Dream being his hero, the image made me feel woozy, almost enough to make me faint. I didn’t tell Sam. Maybe it was because I didn’t want him to hunt down Wilbur. Maybe I couldn’t bear to be the cause of his death or, if he was lucky, imprisonment.

I hadn’t been well since the night with Wilbur, my body still reeling from the blood loss it wasn’t able to recover from, I had been too anxious and high-strung to keep down food. A static forever lingered on the edges of my vision, my skin becoming increasingly pale. I wasn’t a pretty sight and I tried to avoid looking in the mirror whenever possible, eyes glued to the porcelain counter of my bathroom. 

I jumped as a shrill sound, high-pitched and disorienting, rang in my ears. I quickly covered them with my shaky hands, stumbling out into my living room. The radio that sat on the kitchen counter was the source of the insufferable crying. The message began then, my stomach sinking.

EMERGENCY ALERT. EMERGENCY ALERT.

A PRISONER HAS ESCAPED THE PRISON, ALL RESIDENTS IN CLOSE PROXIMITY ARE REQUIRED TO LOCK THEIR DOORS AND STAY INSIDE. DO NOT LET ANY STRANGERS IN. STAY AWAY FROM ALL ENTRANCES UNTIL ANOTHER ALERT IS ISSUED WHEN THE PROBLEM IS RESOLVED

The message continued to repeat as I desperately reached to unplug the metal box. I felt my heart begin to race as it slammed into the ground; Pieces of machinery now littered across the tile floor. Suddenly I was dizzy, my vision becoming black, my thoughts hazy. The metallic shards dug into my knees as I fell. The last thing that crossed my mind was that I never had the chance to lock my door.

I awoke to the rattling of the door nob then the subtle creak of it swinging open. I was paralyzed by fear as I slowly strayed back into reality, I don’t think I would be able to move even if someone wasn’t breaking in. I rolled my ankles, trying to regain feeling.

 “They really left their door unlocked?” a male voice questioned. I tried to focus on where the footsteps went as the sound trailed closer. My body ached as I struggled to get up; my hands stiff as I laid them flat against the cold floor. Fuck just get up. I pleaded with my body as I attempted to push myself. Every limb felt full of lead.

“Hm, what do we have here?” it was Dream’s voice that came from behind me. I weakly groaned, giving up on remaining hidden from the terrifying figure that loomed over me. “y/n, tch tch. You left your door wide open, and what a sad sight you are.” He leaned down next to me. “Where’s Wilbur, hm?” he asked now close to my ear. My eyes were closed tight, but I dared to look at him. His face was littered with fresh scabs and healed over scars, his iconic mask nowhere to be seen. One of his eyes was bruised purple and green, yellow spread across his face from the focal point of the severe black eye. His pupils seemed impossibly small, and his hair had become unkempt having grown into a crude mullet after his time spent in the prison. 

“Wilbur,” I whined out once again desperately trying to push myself to my knees, I winced, the metal under me digging into my shifting body.

“Wilbur-” he mocked me with a laugh. “I think you owe me too, y/n. I brought you Wilbur didn’t I?” a wave of nausea came over me. My body seemed to realize what danger I was in giving me the little strength it took to scurry away from the over imposing man. He grinned at me, squatting down on the heels of his feet. I felt like a caged wild animal.

“Dream?” I watched as his face feigned relief at the voice.

“Wilbur!” Wilbur. “I’ve been looking all over for you. Thought you would be here to see them, but I guess I beat you to the punch hm?” he was now standing above me, my back pressed firmly against cabinets.

“Are they here?”  Wilbur strode over to stand by Dream, his features immediately softened when he looked down at me. He rushed to my side, hand caressing my face. “Hello, darling.” he cooed at me “you don’t look so good” I numbly nodded, leaning into his touch. Wilbur didn’t look so great himself, his hair was wild and his skin made him seem sickly. Yellow peaking out and overpowering any pink that could have been there if not for the low lighting. He looked one good hit away from dying if I’m being honest.

“We need to leave, lover boy. I have horses from Techno tied up in the back. You are a wanted criminal now, keep that in mind when you think about wasting time here.” Dream’s face was one of disinterest as his eyes remained locked on the wide-open door. “5 minutes,” he mumbled, leaving the two of us alone. Wilbur pulled me up from the ground and into his arms, sitting us both on the couch like we had days before. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled into the crook of my neck. I breathed in the smell of his hair relaxing into his arms. The closeness of our bodies communicative without words. I felt relieved to see him, but I couldn’t ignore what he had done.

“Wilbur, Dream he,” I went over the things he had done in my head while staring at Wilbur’s form. I pursed my lips. Did Wilbur freeing him make him complacent in those actions, in hurting my friends? What did it make me?

“I know, I know, dear.” he dismissed me. “We have to go with Dream. We are gonna go somewhere safe.” I tilted my head as he pulled away from my neck. His wine eyes intense, body rigid. He leaned towards me again, face a few inches from my own. I felt apprehension at the intimacy. He seemed out of it, his expression far away and blissed out. “You smell so good, darling” he muttered pressing his face into my hair. “Fuck, I’ll be right back” Wilbur gently set me on the other side of the couch rushing to the bedroom, He came out with a bag. 

“What’s that?” I inquired still feeling as faint as I had in recent days.

“Just some of your clothes,” he waved away my concern “we have to go” 

“Go where?” he shook his head. 

“Dream knows, we just need to get out of here.” Wilbur pulled my hand, getting me up from the couch. 

“But my home.” I mumbled, shuffling my feet.

“We don’t have time for this, y/n.”

“We’re leaving so many people behind and for what, for Dream?” I argued, yanking my hand out of his own to point at where Dream was waiting. Emotions built in my chest as I glanced around the small comfortable house. Memories painted in every corner, things I didn’t want to leave behind. 

“No,” he gritted his teeth, snatching my hand back and using it to tug me towards him, only a few inches from his face “because I’m fucking wanted, y/n. This isn’t for Dream, this is for us.” he spoke with his jaw clenched, his sharp canines more visible. I shut my mouth, immediately looking away from his face. He led me out the back door where two horses waited. 

“Ready?” Dream said sat on his black steed. He ran his eyes over me with distaste, it made shivers travel down my spine. “We really taking them?” Wilbur hoisted me up onto the horse then slid himself behind me. My back was flush against his chest, his arms caging me in order to properly hold the reins. 

“Shut up, Dream.”

[emoboijk]

KTH | Violets: Realities

You had never felt safer than when you were with Kim Taehyung. And never more in danger than when you were without him. —angst, the violets miniseries

» memories :: realities

2,436 words

p.cred

Chaeyoung’s apartment was exactly as you expected it to be—soft pastels (lots of pinks), fairy lights, Pinterest projects, a cozy vibe. It was so utterly her in its design that it was astonishing. She’d picked you up thirty minutes ago, stopped for Pad Thai on the way home, and was now rummaging through the closet for extra blankets. You were sitting on the edge of the couch, drumming your chopsticks against the edge of one of the takeout boxes anxiously.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Chaeyoung asked, reappearing with a mountain of blankets and a suspicious look on her face.

“Yeah,” you sighed, “I think I miss home. I just didn’t want to be alone tonight.”

You’d thought about whether or not to tell her the truth the entire time you waited for her to pick you up. But if UNKNOWN NUMBER didn’t want you speaking to the police, you probably shouldn’t involve your friends either. It was enough just to be with someone right now.

“Okay,” she said, her expression only half convinced. “What do you want to watch?”

Chaeyoung ended up falling asleep halfway through the movie, slumped in the beanbag chair with her head lolling back and drool on the corner of her mouth. You had chuckled when you realized this, covering her in a blanket and turning off the TV. You disposed of the empty Pad Thai boxes and tried to find a comfortable position on the couch, scrolling through your phone to help you sleep.

Namjoon—You’re at Chae’s? Why?

He seemed suddenly so high strung. Maybe you shouldn’t have told him about Taehyung. Chae had confirmed his feelings for you a while ago, letting you know how deeply it ran. You felt like an idiot for even mentioning it.

I just didn’t want to be alone. Girls night! :)

Namjoon—Oh, as long as you’re okay

Of course, I’m ok :) night!

He didn’t text back after that, and you were relieved. Hobi’s text from earlier still sat, lonely and unresponded to in your inbox. But you didn’t bother replying, you and Hobi weren’t avid texters. You were just about to tuck your phone away when another message came in.

UNKNOWN NUMBER—Goodnight beautiful

UNKNOWN NUMBER—I’ll leave you a present tomorrow

You found it hard to sleep after that.

You stayed at Chae’s for over a week, when you got a call from your landlady about the violet bouquets that had built up outside of your door. This person, UNKNOWN NUMBER, would find you eventually…it was time to stop putting Chaeyoung at risk and to just go home.

Your apartment seemed cold when you got back, almost deadly. And for the billionth time that week you ached for the familiar, for arms wrapped around you, and comforting words in your ear.

You replaced the dead violets on your kitchen island with a fresh batch without thinking about it, consumed only by thoughts of Taehyung.

Monday morning, after your first weekend back at your apartment, had your three friends huddled around the group desk clump nervously, eyes watching the door for you. Namjoon had filled them in on the mysterious violets, and had made their minds foggy with a similar paranoia to his own. And when you appeared, sleep deprived and anxious, they breathed a sigh of relief.

Chaeyoung raced across the office toward you, pulling you into a tight hug, and keeping her arm around your shoulders when she pulled away. “I was so nervous this weekend,” Chaeyoung whined, “Are you sure you don’t want to keep staying at my place?”

“I’m positive,” you said, letting her guide you over to your desk.

“You sure?” Hoseok asked, his face suspicious as he looked you up and down, “You look like shit.”

“I’m fine,” you said, “Everything’s fine.”

“Did you get more flowers?” Namjoon said, his voice even and serious, his expression dark. He looked almost as exhausted as you; he hadn’t slept much when he found out you’d left Chaeyoung’s. He was worried for you, and theories spun in his head like cobwebs.

You looked at him straight on, “No,” you lied. You tried to hold the eye contact, to make him believe you, but it became clear that he didn’t and he wouldn’t. So you also didn’t mention the text messages.

“So the flowers really were from your mom?” Chaeyoung asked, chewing on the end of her iced coffee straw nervously.

“Yeah,” you said, putting up your coat and bag, “The detective called back and said my mom had sent them.”

Another lie. The detective had called back and told you that it most definitely wasn’t your mother and that if anything else like that were to show up you should call him. You acted calm, hung up, and hadn’t talked to him since.

You were scared, terrified. You wanted to tell Detective Jeon about the flowers, and the messages. You wanted to beg him to let you return home.

But no, UNKNOWN NUMBER had been very clear. No contacting the police. So you didn’t.

Assuaged by this news about the violets, Hoseok and Chaeyoung went back to their normal selves, relaxed and chatty, going about work as usual. But Namjoon. Namjoon’s corner of your desk clump was like the arctic tundra, bitter cold, and silent. He seemed changed, different, and you wondered if your news about Taehyung had really hurt him that much.

“Don’t worry,” Chaeyoung said during a break at the coffee shop downstairs after you’d told her about what you said and observed how weird Namjoon was acting, “He’ll bounce back. I’m sure of it. Namjoon’s a good guy, with a warm heart, don’t stress.”

Her words helped until you saw Namjoon again. He was like the walking dead, something eating him alive. Which is why you were surprised when he approached you in the afternoon: “Want some company for the walk home tonight?”

Rather than make things worse, hoping to talk things out, you said, “Yes.”

But that night’s walk was anything but relaxed, it didn’t seem to help his attitude, and the atmosphere itself was filled with anxiety. His eyes were constantly darting around, his hands twitching, his lips pursed. When you spoke to him he didn’t look at you, and his responses were always vague and clipped.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” you asked, busying yourself by unlocking the door to the lobby of the apartment building.

“No,” Namjoon said seriously, ducking down to whisper to you as you entered the building, “We need to talk.” He jumped when the door opened behind you both, turning to glare back at whoever it was, but your eyes never left Namjoon’s face. He was scaring you.

“What about?” you said, clicking the elevator button. Namjoon turned to watch as the newcomer walked over to the mail slots, pushing you in suddenly when the elevator doors dinged open. Once inside he stood in front of you protectively, hitting the close-door button with a fury.

“Namjoon!” you gasped, “What is it?”

“I think your stalker’s here,” Namjoon said seriously, his words quick in his attempt to explain everything before the elevator doors opened, “And I think it’s Taehyung.”

You sighed, “Is that what this is about? Namjoon, it couldn’t possibly be Taehyung. And…I’m sure the stalker hasn’t found me.” You turned away from him to leave the elevator, crossing the hallway to your apartment.

“Listen to me,” Namjoon said, his voice high pitched, whiney, desperate. “He’s the stalker! He’s the murderer.” Namjoon’s hands on your biceps were painful, shaking you as if to help you realize the truth.

“No,” you said, struggling against his grip, “He loves me, Joon.”

“Exactly,” he whispered, holding you still, his eyes wild and his voice soft, “He loves you. Too much. He killed for you.”

“Namjoon,” you said, searching his eyes for sanity, “You’re hurting me. Please,” you whispered, tears spilling onto your cheeks, “Stop it.”

“She said stop,” a voice said, like an angel, familiar and beautiful, from behind Namjoon. A hand gripped the back of Namjoon’s jacket and hurled him backward, sending him crashing into the wall with a thump.

“Tae-Taehyung?” you stuttered. He was standing tall, with his head thrown back confidently, his expression stern, his eyes…deadly. You were afraid to look away from him, afraid he would dissolve if you weren’t looking right at him. But Namjoon could have been hurt.

You glanced down to find Namjoon leaning against the wall, rubbing the shoulder that had made an impact with it. He was glaring at Taehyung menacingly as he stood, still wincing from his shoulder. “Tell her,” Namjoon growled, “Tell her how you murdered those people. How you’ve been sending those texts, those presents, stalking her.”

“Namjoon,” you whispered, moving to stand in front of Taehyung protectively, “You’re talking crazy.” 

Behind you, Taehyung was smirking.

“You can’t trust him,” Namjoon said, “Please, believe me.”

You stared into his eyes, finding nothing there but a story you didn’t want to believe, that you didn’t believe. “I think you should go, Namjoon.”

“I will call the cops,” Namjoon threatened, his eyes boring into Taehyung’s cocky, self-satisfied expression, “if anything happens.”

“Namjoon,” you whispered, backing away from him until Taehyung was touching you, feeling security wash over you like warm water, “Nothing’s going to happen. I think you need to go home, calm down. I’ll see you at work.”

“Yes,” Namjoon whispered, glaring at Taehyung, “You will.” He backed away at first, his eyes never leaving Taehyung, as if as soon as he looked away something bad would happen. But he finally turned, the elevator doors closing shut, the tension he’d brought finally dissipating.

You sighed in relief, your body going weak, Taehyung’s strong hands raising to catch you so that you were cradled against his chest. He smiled down at you warmly, “Hi.”

“Hi,” you sighed, letting him hold you comfortably for a moment before saying, “We should go inside.”

You unlocked the door and let him in, his presence behind you like a guardian angel, spreading warmth and safety in your home until it infected your sensibilities. He didn’t stray too far away from you, his hands always hovering around you. And you preferred it that way, you liked knowing he was there because you’d spent so much time thinking he never would be again.

“Thirsty?” you asked, walking around the island in your kitchen to retrieve a water from the fridge. He shook his head and smiled at the wilting violets.

“You got my presents,” he said.

You smiled, and turned to him, leaning against the counter, “I thought they might be from you.”

“Yeah?” he smiled, crossing the kitchen until he was standing right in front of you. His hands settled on your hips like well-worn jeans, comfortable and familiar. He leaned down and pressed his lips to your softly, resting his forehead against yours, before wrapping his arms around you and pulling you in for a hug. “I missed you,” he whispered, his breath hitting the shell of your ear in a startling moment of deja vu.

Your heart stopped for a moment, electricity in your veins paralyzing you.

I miss you, too.

It was him, he’d been in your apartment, he’d been the UNKNOWN NUMBER. It was him. But why would he have warned you not to go to the police? Unless…unless he was…

You pulled away from him, staring into his eyes in the hopes of finding the truth. He raised his eyebrows at you, his lips upturning in a smile. “What is it?” he asked, his hands cupping your cheeks like he used to, making your heart flutter despite everything, “Are you alright?”

“I…” you whispered, your hands around his neck, stroking the soft hairs there, “I don’t know.”

“Oh,” he whispered, his hands moving to your waist, “Is this about what Namjoon said?”

“Kind of,” you whispered. You were struck by the fact that you hadn’t let go of him, hadn’t moved across the room, hadn’t picked up the phone to call the police. But you knew why. Because this was Taehyung. Your Taehyung—beautiful, quirky, romantic, devoted Taehyung. The love of your life. You traced a pattern onto his cheekbone, your eyes still searching his expression, “Is it true?”

Taehyung’s eyes bore into yours. He loved you. Loved you so much that it drove him crazy, gave him a one track mind. He had to protect you. To keep you. You were his. And he couldn’t lie to you.

“Yes,” he whispered, the word like an anvil falling from the sky and crashing through the floor.

Your brow furrowed, and you felt like you were in a fog. Like a ship trying to come into the harbor, whose only guide was the distant lighthouse. But Taehyung was the lighthouse, he would make this make sense.

He didn’t pull away from you as he explained, and you didn’t know why it didn’t feel different. Why he didn’t feel different. You thought that maybe you should have been repulsed, creeped out, violated. But all you felt, his arms around you, was safe.

“I was protecting you,” he whispered, his eyes closed. He supposed that he should have been scared. He’d committed terrible acts, killed multiple people. You could decide never to see him again, to run and scream. To turn him into the cops. But he also knew that he couldn’t keep it a secret any longer. Not from you. “Your boss…he was assaulting you,” Taehyung nearly spit, and your mind flashed with memories of your boss slapping your ass and his suggestive comments, “And, and that coworker…he went along with it,” he whispered, his voice filled with disgust, your mind filled with the uncomfortable memories, “And then…that friend of yours,” he scoffed, “When he was drunk and tried to…to…” he faltered, but you had the memories to fill in the blank. Taehyung’s hands moved to cup your cheeks, “I was protecting you, I wanted you to be safe.”

You looked up, blinked at him, understanding dawning on you. He was protecting you. He was making sure those creeps never touched you again.

“But I would never, never hurt you,” he whispered fervently, “I love you.”

“I know,” you whispered, pulling his head down so that it rested against yours, “I love you.” You pulled away and looked at him seriously, “But no more, okay?” you whispered.

“Okay,” he whispered, “Okay.” He leaned down and kissed you, relief clear in his movements.

“I’m yours,” you whispered, his lips traveling down your neck until you were moaning softly, over and over, “I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours.”

author’s note—this miniseries depicts a toxic relationship, filled with inappropriate behavior, and is not at all meant to endorse or promote a relationship of this nature.

requested by anonymous—And could you do a Stalker Taehyung fic (I know it's not in your aesthetics but I think it would be cool)? Genre or length doesn't matter it'll be bomb af regardless!

for more of my works check out my m.list

[lubdubsworld]

Give me some Sugar.

Park Jimin x OC

Chapter 1 /   Chapter 2/   Chapter 3 /   Chapter 4 /   Chapter 5 /

  Chapter 6 ~ Part 1/  Chapter 6 ~ Part 2   / Chapter 7/

  Chapter 8 /   Chapter 9 /   Chapter 10

( This is so late and so long and way too angsty , i hate myself but yes, next chapter should end the angst . Don’t forget to comment…. ) 

Chapter 11

“ Your what?” I stared blankly, certain that I had misheard. Or possibly blown an artery in my head which had resulted in an aneurysm that was giving me a stroke.

“My daughter… She’s three , almost four and she lives in my penthouse with my parents.” Jimin had begun packing up his things and he was quickly slipping his phone into his jacket , grabbing his keys. He held his hand out,

“Shall we leave?” 

I couldn’t think of anything to say, following him blindly as he led me to the parking lot. His hand was war around my own and I thought how inconvenient it was that he could make me melt with just the brush of his fingers. 

But his words still hung. 

There were so many questions in my head.

 Are you married? Did you have a wife all along? Are you really cheating on your wife like this? 

But I didn’t voice them. 

He had made it clear , in no uncertain terms that there was nothing between us. That there could never be anything between us. 

 I didn’t need to know anything. And no matter how curious I felt , how terrifying the prospect of being ‘ the other woman’ was, I couldn’t give in. I had to hang on to my distance. It was my only protection from heartbreak. 

 I stayed quiet as he walked up to a nice blue Porsche, opening the door for me.

“I don’t owe you an explanation of course but, I think…it would be better if you don’t meet my daughter.  ” He said calmly, after watching me buckle into my seat. 

I tried not to let the words get to me. They made me realize that a part of me had wanted to see the baby. Wanted to see what he had created… but, he was right. 

“Well, you’re right. You don’t owe me an explanation.” I said quietly and he nodded.  

He probably didn’t actually want me to meet his daughter, i thought trying to ignore the shaft of pain in my heart.

. As i stared out of the window, I tried not to feel hurt because i knew that he was merely being a good parent. There would be no point introducing a young child to someone who wouldn’t stay around for long.He was a good father.

“Hey…” He reached out then , lightly touching my knee and I swallowed down the whimper that kind of bubbled up inside me.  His touches did that and I realized how much I’d missed him. 

“I’m fine.” I said softly and he looked impossibly soft, his eyes warm and concerned.

“I know. I just… You went through something huge and I’m incredibly proud of you. And you did the right thing baby…. You kept your self safe from that bastard and that’s all that matters…”

I nodded.

“Okay…”

“You want to talk about it?” He asked softly.

i paused for a minute trying to get my thoughts in order. Talking to Jimin had always been easy. He was just… so hard not to trust. So hard to keep out, no matter how high I built my walls and as always I felt my reticence vanish, replaced by the urge to just give in and let him know my deepest, darkest secrets.

I wanted to fight the urge to talk, the urge to give away more of myself and receive nothing in return but it was impossible.

It was a battle lost even before it began.

“I thought…” I hesitated, “ I thought I’d feel something… when I did that to him, you know. “ I shook my head. “ i thought something would change when I confronted him, maybe a load would be off or maybe I’d feel better but I just… I feel just …fine. I don’t even regret it or feel bad that I nearly killed another human. I don’t feel happy or ecstatic that I got back for what he did to me… I can’t feel…anything. “ I said bitterly. “ It’s like he killed everything inside me all those years ago…”

Jimin didn’t say anything.

“You must’ve been very young…” He said pulling the car out into the lane.

I nodded, staring out of the window.

“Young. Gullible. Foolish. Whatever you want to call it.” I said with a little shake of my head. “And the worse part is, I could have walked out before it had all gone to hell. But I stayed. I put up with it. I don’t know why but I did.”

“We’ve all been there. We make decisions, convinced, at the time, that we’re doing the right thing….” He said , nodding.

We stopped in front of an unfamiliar building and I watched as he stepped out, moving to talk to the security at the gate.

“It’ll just be you and me, so don’t worry… “ He said softly and I stared, confused.

“So, does she live with your family? ” i wanted to kick myself. I wasn’t supposed to get more involved. But curiosity got the better of me. 

He hesitated before shrugging.

“ She has her own nanny and my parents stay over three days a week when I’m not around. I’ve already told them they should move in for a few months… because of my tour next month.  “

I felt relief flood me nonetheless and I hated it. Hated that the fact,  that there was no wife,  made me so happy. Why was I so stupid? 

“You didn’t have to do this.. I could find somewhere else to stay Jimin , I really do not want to intrude and-”

“I think, we’re both past the stage where we have to apologize… You’re important to me, whether you like it or not .” He wasn’t looking at me and the words were almost absentminded in the way they were said  and I looked away again. 

“I’m surprised you even get to spend time with her , what with your busy schedule. “ I said as he pulled into the huge gates, driving swiftly to the garage.

“I don’t have a  packed a schedule actually. No one knows about my daughter except for my manager and the guys. They put in fake schedules and broadcast appointments when I’m with her. It makes for a lot of … sneaking around but… yeah… she’s worth it.” He smiled faintly.

I stepped out of the car, suddenly getting a sense of deja vu. 

“The apartment we shared earlier… Is that…” I began nervously but he cut me off. 

“I moved out after we … parted ways.” He said softly, pressing on the right floor in the elevator.

I nodded.

“But i still have your clothes here.” He said suddenly and I stared up at him, stunned. His gaze had changed, somehow warmer and more intimate and I swallowed the dryness in my throat.

“I’m… I can go get my clothes tomorrow from my apartment… I need.. I mean … my books are there too and I… “ I stammered , stopping short when he stepped forward hesitantly, reaching out and stroking my hair.

The bell in the elevator rang, signalling that we were there. The moment was gone and he stepped back, hands falling back to his side. 

The elevator door opened and I followed him out, keeping my head bowed as I he led me to the glass doors, leading to a large open plan apartment. It looked like it wasn’t lived in, all that much. 

“It’s a friend’s “ He said casually, noting the way I looked around the place . “ Jin Hee goes to a daycare about half a mile from here. I crash here sometimes when I have a few hours and I want to spend them with her. You can settle in .” He pointed out the guest room and I took my bag, moving slowly to the room. 

It was spacious and I moved to the bathroom first, splashing water on my face. I turned on the water in the bathtub and let it fill, moving to the mirror.

I stared at myself, flinching at how…awful i looked. My hair was all over the place and i looked dead, eyes wide and shadowed, a grayish tinge coating my pallor. 

I sighed a bit, still a bit high strung from the previous day’s events.

I fiddled with the hem of my blouse, scratching at a stray soup stain.

There was also a little bit of blood , from when Ji Hwan had crashed into the table on his way down, the edge slicing his forehead open.

I felt sick.

It seemed a few minutes of contact with Ji Hwan had reversed five years worth of recovery . I felt my fingers tremble as I reached for the tap to shut the water off. I stayed staring at the tub for a while, and slowly the events of the previous day started to sink in.

I climbed in slowly, the war water soothing. I leaned against the ceramic tub, trying to get my heart to calm down. 

I didn’t realize that I hadn’t slept in close to twenty four hours and that my body was still strained from what had happened earlier.

The water was warm, like a nice hug, wrapping around me in soft heat and I found my eyes drifting shut , my body going limp in exhaustion. 

The next thing i knew, I was being shaken violently, my body cold and trembling and my breathing ragged. I tried to take in some air but all I got was water, my lungs filling up with it till I started panicking. 

Strong arms gripped my elbows, hauling me up and away fro the tub and I tumbled over the side, coughing and spluttering. 

“Y/N.. Oh shit… sweetheart 

I  flinched at how loud Jimin was and stared at him in confusion, still disoriented. 

“Are you okay? You nearly…fuck I thought you drowned!!” He sounded terrified as he cradled e close and I realized I was sopping wet, drenching his shirt and slacks. He reached out and grabbed a towel before wrapping it around my shoulder. 

“I’m sorry… I don’t know what happened… I think I fell asleep and…” I started coughing and he shushed me gently .

“It’s okay..it’s alright. Let’s just get you into bed , okay?” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fifteen minutes later , I was dressed into one of Jimin’s long oversize white cotton shirts , the hem hanging somewhere around my thighs. I lay on the bed, on my side staring at him as he sat on a small armchair close to the bed. 

“You should go sleep too.” I said softly and he shrugged.

“Ill stay till you fall asleep. “ He reached out and tugged on the blanket , tucking it around my shoulder, “ You’re still shaking. should I get you another blanket?” 

I shook my head. 

I was shaking but it had nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with my nerves , which were pretty much frayed at this point. 

“I hate it when I get flustered.” I admitted weakly. “ I’ve always hated it when I get vulnerable and I guess… I hate thinking about that time in my past.” 

“He’s never coming near you again, Y/N. I can’t say anything else but this I can guarantee, he’s not coming near you.” He said , his voice chillingly quiet. 

I nodded. 

“ I know. “ I said simply. 

“You should get some rest now…” He reached out and touched me lightly and I stared at him. 

“I’m a bit of a mess, aren’t I? I wasn’t always like this…” I said , just as he made to brush my hair. 

“Y/N….”

“When my father left, I just… I was really young. I’d been used to having him in my life and he wasn’t a bad father. He had truly loved me and taken care of me. and well, at that age its kind of like a security blanket you know? That support and that concern… You need it… 

“After he left, Ji Hwan kind of stepped into that role for me. I thought he was just being nice but , yeah. He was just trying to groom me into what he wanted I guess. He used to take e out to on little dates and he used to buy me stuff and Seulgi, she’s his half sister by the way, she used to let me borrow her clothes and stuff. Her father was paying for my mother’s treatment as well so, it felt wrong to not reciprocate in some way, even if that way was probably sick…”

I swallowed.

“How old were you?” He said softly. 

“Fourteen.” I shrugged and he lurched, eyes wide. 

I smiled bitterly.

“I know. Dirty, right? I’ve been dirty for a long time…” I whispered. 

“No.. Don’t say that… Y/N… The guy, he’s the one who…”

“I know.” I said shortly. “ I had a nice therapist after I lost the case. She had been following the trial and she reached out to me herself and offered to treat me for free. It helped a lot. “ 

I took a deep breath. 

“I think the worst thing is … I would have let him do it a lot longer , if it weren’t for the fact that he physically hurt me. He was abusing me sexually, he was..” I had to swallow the bile just to continue, “ pimping me out to his friends… humiliating me in every way…. and i just… I let him do it, simply because he wrapped it and labeled it as ‘ love’. “ I shook my head. 

“And I realized that… I must’ve been really desperate for love… And i alos learned that my heart it’s just… it’s not trustworthy when it comes to stuff like this.. it makes me do stuff that ….end up being a huge mistake. So I .. I don’t like listening to my heart when it tells me that something is love…” 

He stared at me for a few seconds and smiled. 

“You’re wise now. “ He said . 

I nodded.

“I am. I’m going to sleep now.” I said tiredly.

He nodded and leaned down, lightly kissing my cheek. 

“Okay… I’ll see you in the morning, alright? Sleep well.” He turned the light off and settled back in the chair.

“You can go sleep now..” I said ipatiently but he just hummed.

“When you fall asleep. Don’t worry about it, I’m used to this. I always stay up waiting for my daughter to sleep..” He said firmly and I wrinkled my nose.

“That is not a comparison I enjoy…It’s weird. ” 

He laughed.

“You’re both precious to me so its not weird.”  He said with bright eyes and I felt my heart turn over again.

 Back to square one. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You’re safe, right?” Yerin asked for the seventeenth time, as I walked across the kitchen to hang my apron. It was a little past eight and my phone was dead. I had no way of contacting Jimin and a part of me was sure that he was likely hyperventilating somewhere but there wasn’t much I could do. My sister was back in Seoul and after years of silence , I’d finally told her what had happened all those years ago.

She was upset that I hadn’t told her earlier but how how could I? She had been a eleven year old back then. Although I had kept most of the harsher details out of my narrative, she was still beyond furious.

The restriction order was being processed. Till then, I would have to stay with Jimin , or so Yoongi’s brother insisted. ‘ Better safe than sorry’ he said over and over again.

Jimin hadn’t been there when I woke up  only sending a driver to take me to college in the morning.

I hated the fact that I wasn’t unhappy about it. On the contrary I had slept better than in months and I had sneaked into his bedroom in the morning and buried my face in the pillows, taken in his scent, then gone and rubbed myself over his shirt, the one hanging in the closet. it had still smelled like him and it had taken all of my will power not to slip my hands in between my legs and just….

After work, I used a payphone to call Jimin and he sounded calm.

“I had a couple of guys keep an eye on you. They were there all the time so you don’t have to worry…” He said when I spologized for my phone. I wasn’t sure how I felt about being tailed but decided not to pursue that subject. 

“I could take a cab home… But I don’t really know the correct address…” I said and he humed.

“Just give me five minutes, yeah? I’ll be there.” 

I watched as he rolled up to the curb and grinned at me. I stepped in quickly and smiled back awkwardly. 

“Hey. “ I said shyly. 

“How was your day , baby?” He said reaching out and helping me put on my seat belt. 

“Same old. I’m sorry to make you drive here all the way… If you could tell me the address next time, I..”

“Trust me I would rather be here than anywhere else.” He winked. “ Do you want to get dinner out or should I make you something at home? “ 

“Let me cook tonight…” I said softly. 

He hesitated before glancing at me.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to-”

“I’d love to. “ I said firmly. 

Later , as we sat on the leather couch,  eating fried rice and sipping juice, Jimin turned on a drama and I tried to relax.

“This is ridiculous.” He said suddenly. 

“What? “ I said curiously.

“The main lead… its obvious that he’s only hurting her and she’s only going to be unhappy with him…. he should just let her go… “ He said . 

I shrugged.

“He made a promise. He promised to make her happy and he’s hanging on to that . He’s working hard to make her happy ….”

“But its not working? She’s going through so much shit… “ He protested and I smiled.

“So, you think that makes her unhappy?” I asked shaking my head. He stared at me. 

“Doesn’t it?” He said curiously and I laughed.

“Sometimes happiness can’t be quantified as just, good things happening to you. She’s happy because he’s trying. It’s not the promise of happiness that keeps her there,…. it’s the promise that he will always be there…” I said and Jimin went really quiet. 

“I don’t think that’s real. People want things to be happy. And when they find out you can’t give them that, they leave…” He said abruptly. 

I stared at him. 

“Jimin…”

“And the promise of love? Are you serious? Promises only last as long as the conditions they were made in. Yes, you promised to love me when things were good, doesn’t mean you’re going to keep that promise when things go bad… “ He spat out bitterly and I stayed still as he gripped the plate harder. 

“Even you left me…” He said suddenly and my heart jumped . “ Once you felt it was too hard for you, you left. “ 

He stood up and I could only stare at him. 

“Jimin wait!!” 

But he was already storming out of the kitchen and I just sat there, stunned. 

What had just happened? 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two hours later, thinking he may have calmed down a bit, I sneaked into the small balcony and found him sitting on a small bench hidden from view. The bench faced a small koi pond and I stared at him in genuine anxiety.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you. It was uncalled for and you didn’t deserve it. .” He said suddenly and I flinched.

“Its alright… Don’t worry about it. ”

“I’m not used to being dumped. I always take strict measures, to make sure I’m the one who walks out first and well, when you left me…. I didn’t take it well. Still can’t get over it . ” He said with a wry smile and I was struck speechless.

I really can’t think of anything to say. My mind was sluggish, afraid to process the phrase and arrive at a conclusion that could potentially change everything.

 I blinked and stared at the pond, already formulating a refusal, if he asked what I thought he was going to ask.

“But I’m glad you did that.  I don’t want to end up hurting you, even if it is unintentional. .” He said with a little laugh that was devoid of mirth.

i stayed quiet. there was nothing much to say really. We were strangers. It was  funny, but we really were. We had spent so many days together and I knew nothing about him.

Yet, he he was the one who knew the most traumatizing things I’d gone through. He’d been there and he knew things about me that my closest friends didn’t. My throat went dry. I wasn’t not sure I like it.

Jimin had caught glimpses of the most vulnerable moments in my life and I felt helpless, at his mercy. At risk.,

Threatened.

I began to tremble a bit and he moved very close, pulling me into his arms before I could realize what he was doing.

“I want to be there for you.” I said softly and he stared wide eyed , while I rubbed circles over his back. 

“This isn’t… You don’t have to do anything…” he said softly

“ I know…. I’m…ill-equipped to help you but I want to try. If you’ll let me..” I replied. 

“I don’t…i don’t.. know..” he said honestly, clinging to me in confusion.

What was he so afraid of ? What did he want from me?

“I missed you…. “ He said, eyes shifting across my face, like he was drinking in my features . I felt my traitorous heart just lurch inside my rib cage and it was like a burn, an impossible itch. The urge to fling my arms around him and tell him that I would do anything for him. But I knew how awful, how terrible a choice that would be.

I had worked so hard to get him out of my system and what was I even thinking?

“Don’t.. Please…” i begged but he was already ducking his head, lips brushing across the corner of mine. The touch of his lips to mine felt like a taser, and my body and heart surrendered without any fight, a white flag up and ready . I sobbed out in disbelief.

“I wanted to apologize for the way i treated you and… well, you deserve better…” He shook his head and then looked back up at me. “ But , I’m a bastard because….” He said, voice breaking a bit as he crowded me into the elevator walls, hands lightly gripping my shoulders .” I can’t stop thinking about you…”

“You’re not playing fair..” I cried out, tears already brimming as I pushed at his chest, weakly.

“Please… Tell me what I can do to make you feel good…Tell me what i can do to convince you to stay….I don’t want to lose you … I … Can’t we just be friends….??” He said desperately and I swallowed.

Suddenly I was just so tired. I had to do this. For him. For me. For my own sanity. 

“I think… I… think I’m in love with you… Will you love me back? ” I asked shakily and he flinched.

“That’s,…. That’s not fair Y/N….” He said , voice rough and low and I stared at him.

I laughed in disbelief.

“Not fair..? What’s not fair is that you think I should settle for just a part of you while you get to have all of me!” I said in protest.

He pulled back then, sighing.

“I’m sorry… You’re right. I shouldn’t… I’m sorry…And you shouldn’t you know… You shouldn’t be falling in love with me at all because .. God, you deserve so much better and … you’re right… What am I even doing… ” He said shaking his head and somehow I was tired.

I was tired of dancing around and tired of these cryptic excuses.

After a few more moments of silence, he cleared his throat.

“Jimin…”

“Let’s just not talk about this okay…Let’s…”

“That’s not how it works” I said angrily . “  Tell me. Help me understand… You keep …acting like you love me but you keep.. pushing me away and you can’t have both Jimin… You can’t just tell me you want me… You can’t kiss me and make me feel like the most special girl in the world and then turn around and say that you could never love me.. it doesn’t work that way….!”

“I can’t just… I wish I could give you what you’re asking…. But I’m not… I’m really  not who you think I am, Y?N. All this glitz and glamour…it’s just a facade… underneath it all I’m just a broken pathetic excuse of a an who doesn’t deserve any woman’s love, let alone someone as beautiful, as kind and as wonderful as you….” He shook his head and I felt a protest build up inside me. 

“Stop that… I don’t see your stupid glitz or your glamour.. I just… I see the kind, generous human being that you are! Don’t you dare call yourself that !” I snapped. 

He stared at me.

“I wish you’d talk to me… “ I said softly and he lurched.

“I’m…”

“Is it because of your daughter… You don’t want to get into a relationship because of your daughter…? Tell me…”

He shook his head.

“i can’t.. If I tell you, you’ll…probably leave for good. I’m not..ready for that…” He said , gaze wavering and I was tired.

I was so sick of this.

“I’m here…. You broke my heart and told me that you couldn’t love me when I’m in love with you but I’m still here….” I said choking on the words. “I’m still here Jimin…If I was going to leave, I would have left a long, long time ago but I’m here and that has got to count for something, right? “

“You’re not… I can’t just…” He shook his head and I felt my hands tremble as I reached for his.

“ Remember yesterday ? ….. I was so scared and confused but… I took your hand when you held it out…and I will always… take your hand … You know that… You know I’m not leaving… Not until you tell me to…. Please…Tell me what’s wrong…” I whispered.

He moved to the corner of the balcony and settled down to the floor, legs stretched out in front of him.

I sat down opposite him and waited.

“Jin Hee… she’s not my daughter exactly. I was married to her mother briefly but … she left me before Jin Hee was born. “ He began softly. 

I stared at him, not sure what to say. He hesitated a little bit more before taking a deep breath.

“We had been trying to have a baby for a really long time. And I … about a week earlier I had found out from my doctor that I wasn’t… I couldn’t have kids.”

His breath hitched and something tugged at my heartstrings. He sounded so helplessly hurt that I couldn’t help but stare at him, concerned.

“I took her out to dinner to tell her that we may have to consider adoption or maybe a surrogate  and she told me she couldn’t stay with me any more.  I was sitting there will all those brochures and she just….she told me in no uncertain terms that …we were over. “

“I’m so sorry…” i said , feeling completely useless. I wanted to make him feel better but I had no idea what to say.

“For a second , I was sure it was some sort of a mistake. i hadn’t considered that not having a baby would be a deal breaker for her. If it had been her … who had.. been with the condition, i wouldn’t have…” He swallowed and something twisted inside my gut like a knife.

My pulse dropped and I felt my heart breaking for him.

“Jimin…”

“I didn’t try to guilt her into anything. It was a civil divorce and I .. well, I almost forgot about it. But then about ten months later , i ran into her in  a grocery store. “ He laughed a little, eyes still shining with hurt.

At that moment, I knew that I was completely and irrevocably in love with him. What other explanation could there be? He was crying and I was dying. It had to be love. 

“ I found out that she had splurged all of the alimony and she was in debt. I went looking for her and she was living in this run down little shack of an apartment, and i saw some pamphlets about an abortion clinic. I asked her about it and she told me she had gotten pregnant with some one night stand…and she was going to get an abortion. ”

He bent his knees , hugging his legs like a little child. 

. I could only stare, tears brimming over my eyes as I tried to imagine how Jimin must’ve felt.

“And.. I’d never felt more worthless in my life.” He said softly. “ I was… I just… I couldn’t give her what a stranger in some seedy club could. And I was the reason this beautiful woman was reduced to this state and I was the reason she… “ He stopped taking a deep breath. He let out a deep shuddering breath and swallowed. 

“ I couldn’t imagine her killing her child because I knew it must have been important to her. She left me over it after all… Well, long story short, I offered to support her for the pregnancy and to adopt the baby if she chose to keep it. I still…cared for her and I didn’t want the baby to … die. Especially because there was no chance I would have one of my own.“ He said softly.

He smiled a little.

“Now you know why I don’t do relationships.”

I stared at him in disbelief.

“You’re… Jimin… just because she left you over this.. doesn’t mean… I’m…”

I would never leave you. Give me a chance and I would never leave you.

“You honestly believe that a girl would be okay, with never having a child of her own…” He shook his head and I suddenly felt ridiculous for thinking that this was simple. 

“Will you be okay never having a baby?” He said sharply.

I didn’t reply. 

“Thought so. Well, if this conversation is over… I’m going to go to bed now. “ 

He was right. I couldn’t just say I was okay with never having a baby. Like every girl in the world I had dreamed of it. 

But i also knew that I would never just leave Jimin over it. 

“Jimin wait…!”He pulled his hand away when I reached for him.

“No! I don’t want your sympathy. I know how this conversation goes. I’ve had it already with my wife and I’m not having it again with you….I barely survived it the first time and …well, if I hear you tell me what she did , I really will die. ”  He said bitterly before walking out of the balcony.

I stayed on the floor, confused and disoriented. 

I had wanted answers. I had got them.

Except I wished I hadn’t. 

[wristic]

Now You’re a Real Criminal

Pairing: Edward Nygma X Reader Word Count: 2300 Warnings: Death threats in the form of riddles cause Ed’s a huge NERD god I love him

Anonymous requested: Something Edward

-Part 1- -Part 2- -Part 3- -Part 4-

@bookswillfindyouaway @geeksareunique

Acting stupid was the greatest game you ever played, and the things it allowed you to get away with, oh, now that was the greatest treat you ever earned. Ditzy, ditsy you, too dumb but golden-hearted to do any wrong. You weren’t even sure how it started. Maybe out of spite, maybe for the rush, now here you stood behind no easier mark than Oswald Cobblepot.

Granted he didn’t react to you like former employers did, feeding off your empty headed ploy and cutesy mannerisms, but he was a high strung fellow. Busy, busy, always too busy to really pay attention, to look at the books himself. A good two thousand had been siphoned off him already, the numbers littered all over Gotham and away from you, yet your new clothes were anything but cheap. For someone so rude and conniving, who knew Oswald could be so generous.

“Oswald-Mr. Cobblepot… sir? Could you sign these, please?” They were typical papers; all the dough for a proper campaign, donations to schools and orphanages, and miscellaneous. Pens, badges, flyers, a five hundred check split between five unknown parties. You held the clipboard in both hands, waiting patiently as he aggressively flipped through them, not taking a single real glance as he signed them.

There was nothing more satisfying than getting away with it too. In how easy it was, in how everyone saw you as so non-threatening. Slamming the pen back on the board, Oswald let it fall without any care to you. You bent down to pick it up and was almost dizzy with bliss as you came back up, like you should thank him for paying for your coming five hundred dollar shopping spree.

He grumbled and turned away from you to have Jameson jabber on and on about making appearances. Spinning on your heel, all sense of delight halted at the tall figure looming over you. All in green with dark eyes under a darker hat. “O-oh. I’m sorry.” You adjusted your far-bigger-than-they-needed-to-be glasses, forcing a smile. “I didn’t see you there.”  

He only gave a short hum, forcing a smile of his own. In a voice you found startlingly deep he held out a hand and asked, “Mind if I see those?”

“Oh!” You waved with a chuckle and danced your all too cheery tune, “Don’t you worry yourself! I got it all figured out! I just go and hand it to Mr. Yanovich and he does all the numbers!”

Still smiling down at you, he asserted. “Than you won’t mind me seeing them.”

But you did. There was nothing to see, not really, yet you felt like a fox trying to hide from a bloodhound. “I don’t know how Mr. Yanovich would feel about someone else handling them-”

“It’ll only be a moment. I promise.” The feigned sweetness was too obvious to you, making your gut twist in knots.

Giving an exaggerated shift to try and look cute, you sighed, “Alright. But don’t get me in trouble!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” As soon as the clipboard was placed in his hand the smile dropped and he sped off like lightening. You were left lost, heart slamming in your chest as he slowed to a stand behind Oswald, reading the papers very closely.

It was then you realized what you were really contending with. Oswald wasn’t just some perverted idiot. His friends weren’t a bunch of dumb beer buddies. He may have been released from Arkham, despite the fact no one got released from Arkham, but that didn’t change the fact he killed people, that he ran the cities underground with murderers and criminals of the worst kind.

Nervously biting your lip, you slowly turned away, hiding back behind your designated secretary desk, forcing down the idea everyone was watching you.

You never did see those papers again. Any you had Oswald sign left your hands and went to Edward Nygma’s. It became routine, and you weren’t sure if you should keep up the typical transactions or take them out, worried he would catch something amiss. Five hundred was a lot to suddenly not need. Decidedly you kept the numbers stagnant, just ‘tossing-around’ money, unmarked money to keep unknown people happy. Yet you were terrified of doing anything with that money, keeping it stashed and out of sights.

And then the shift happened. Taking your clipboard, this time Edward didn’t walk off, but stared down at your shoes.

“My… those are awfully nice buckles you have.” You pushed your puffy flowery skirt out of the way and acknowledged; the buckles were real gold, and while bought from a time before working for Oswald, still clean and untarnished.

“Thank you! They were a gift!”

His eyes drug up you, taking in every little detail. The shoes, the tights, the skirt, the belt, the bracelets and rings, the blouse, the earrings, the glasses. You tilted your head in curiosity, all you could do to keep down the panic.

A smile grew on him, something real and with a devious edge that made your heart slam harder. “A very nice gift for a very nice lady.” He offered, making your head spin before you caught yourself and gave a shy giggle. “Have a nice day.”

Nygma got more and more energetic around you, like he was in on a little secret shared only between you two. It was strange; if he knew you were stealing, shouldn’t he make some sort of move? Call you out, call the police? You didn’t understand what was taking him so long. His favorite thing to do was ask you really hard questions that you could answer, but would break your persona if you did. After you’d fail Edward would stare into you for a long moment before winking and leaving without a word. There was never a real sign that he knew about the money laundering, until the Gala.

You found a lonely wall, hiding from an old boss that may have gotten suspicious over time. Sipping very leisurely you looked around at the denizens of finely dressed people and the giant glittering chandeliers above, the lights a wonderful golden glow that almost made you feel like you were in a dream the longer you spaced out. A splash of green caught you, your tall thin glass of champagne slipping from your fingers to his.

Your lungs sucked in a stinging air and held it, paining you before breaking out in a smile. “Hello Mr. Nygma! I didn’t think you’d be here! It doesn’t at all seem your tastes.”

He seemed so relaxed, back against the wall, sipping your sparkling drink with his hat dipped low, eyes trailing along the crowd. “On the contrary, I like a good performance.” You looked out a bit confused before he interrupted your thoughts. “You like games? How about a riddle?”

Your chest ached, begging behind your eyes for someone to take you away. “O-oh no thank you, I’m no good at-”

“You can't see, hear or feel me, until it’s too late. I am what shadows love but what shopkeepers hate. What am I?”

You gave a pause, not in thought, but fear. Edward looked to you before smiling, a malevolence in his sharp gaze. Steadying yourself you shrugged with an innocent, “I don’t know.”

He motioned the glass to you, “Try.” You started up the ums and uhs before he rolled his eyes back to the crowd. “Try… without acting like a ditz.”

The words cut through you, sighing the agony before giving a sheepish, “A thief?”

He echoed in a satisfied growl, “A thief.” and set a tremble in your knees. Pushing himself to a full stand Edward walked by you and ordered. “Follow me please.”

Taking a last bit of living air, you followed, every step feeling closer to your end. As you passed through doors, he happily asked, “How about another one!” not minding the people littering less and less.

“I make you weak at the worst of times.” Despite facing away from you, you saw his hands exaggerate his words. “I keep you safe, I keep you fine. I make your hands sweat and your heart grow cold. I visit the weak, but seldom the bold. What am I?”

He came to a door, down a hall with no people, spinning and leaning against it with bright anticipation. Gulping, you answered. “Fear?”

“You are good at this! Isn’t this so much more fun than acting stupid?! Another one!” The door to the dark room opened wide for you. You took the slightest glance in, the moonlight through the windows the only lamp. Looking to him, he only motioned with a jump of his brows and waited.

Forcing a steadying breath in your stone heavy chest, you took those dooming steps. He didn’t speak until he was inside and the door was shut, his voice dark and deep in the empty room. “So cold, damp and dark I am. To stay you would refrain, yet those who occupy me do never complain. What am I?”

All the dread built itself into a frenzy, spilling from you in a trembling plea, “I never used the money!” Edward started stalking to you and you started stumbling back, “I have it, all of it! I can give it back! It’s just habit, see, I didn’t really think about who I was stealing from! And then I did and I didn’t really know what to do but I did save it and I didn’t mean anything by it and I can give it back, I-”

Your back hit the wall, eyes watering as he stood a breath away, tilting his head and asking, “So cold, damp and dark I am. To stay you would refrain, yet those who occupy me do never complain. What am I?”

Dodging his unforgiving eyes, you whispered, “A grave.”

His cold fingers ran along your jaw, down your neck to play with your dress collar. “Something I couldn’t quite figure out is; someone as smart as you scrounging around in small time jobs, stealing instead of just going to school. Why is that?”

You shrugged, still unwilling to look at him. “I-I don’t know.”

Edward got eye level with you, “I’ve really gotten tired of you saying those words.”

Feeling foolish every time you had to admit, you sighed and explained simply, “It’s… fun.”

“More fun than having a stable high paying job?” You shrugged. Edward stood back up and gave a great laugh to that.

Shifting disheartened, he suddenly caged you with his hands slamming on the walls, brimming with energy, “No no! I get it! Unsuspecting, too dumb to pull off, ‘oh but she was such a nice girl.’ Even if you got caught, just about everyone would stand by your defense. Maybe even the Judge when he got a look at your vestal eyes. But that’s not enough is it?” You gave him a curious glance and he finished, “It’s the slightest-the teeniest tiny chance someone won’t believe you. That you’ll get caught and you have to use every trick in the book to get out. If you were a higher up in a bank no one could care. Steal millions and no one bats an eye, steal a couple hundred and now you’re a real criminal. It’s the idea of the challenge always sitting under your nose, ready to take on at a moment's notice, that’s where the real excitement is.”

You went to argue when he added, more like a thought to himself, “That’s way you kept stealing, instead of just running with what you had.”

Something about that chilled you, clicked in all the wrong places.

“You ran from all your other employers when they might of started catching on. Yet you didn’t run from… me.” He tilted his head, smiling in a day-dreamy way. While Ed was ready to over-romanticize that bit, you were faced with a truth you long denied, it was the hint of danger you enjoyed most. The downfall often imagined as epic and poetic, as some untouched adventure waiting around the corner.

You didn’t like thinking on it, finding this all too risky territory. Quickly you changed the subject. “What do you want?”

It seemed to throw him off, asking with a sincere confusion, “What do I want?”

“Yeah. You haven’t told the police, so what do you want from me?”

“Oh… uh… I had planned on killing you and making it look like an accident but, well now I feel a sort of kinship here.” Edward stood up straight, adjusting his glasses as he thought. You glared at him as he did, wanting to shout out how unbelievable this was. The only thing to stop you was how offhandedly he was ready to kill you a few moments ago. He gave a clap of his hands, “You can be my lackey!”

You had to blink to comprehend that. “...your what?”

“My lackey! Like Oswald with Butch! And-and Galavan with the Maniacs!”

Crossing your arms defensively, you gawked at him, “You want me to be your errand idiot?”

Completely unfazed he pointed out, “Isn’t that kind of what you do now?”

True as it was, you were still offended. “I put a lot of work into my persona! It fooled you!”

“Which makes you perfect for this! Think of all this like an audition, and you passed!” Despite how positively excited he was, you scoffed, throwing yourself back on the wall in a pout. He shrugged, “I could always kill you.”

“Or turn me into the police!” You countered.

Ed gave an opposing hiss, “That’s too much of a risk you’ll get away with it. Besides, this will be fun! For now keep playing into your act until I call upon you in my time of need. Also tell no one of this conversation.” You didn’t agree or disagree, just stared up with an annoyed glare. “See you at work tomorrow!” He pinched your cheek hard and walked away.

“What do I do with the money!?”

“Keep it for me.”

“If I get caught I’m throwing you under the bus!”

With a final wave out the door, Ed called with proud delight, “Pleasure doing business with you and remember, I can always kill you!”

[tuwam]

a game.

it’s been three weeks.

three weeks since yunho ambushed the institute subdued her before she could defend and dragged her to his cold rigid kingdom in the south. it’s not mina’s first time here, and she doesn’t fool herself into thinking it’ll be the last. whether that means she will escape on her own, receive help from the kids she’s trained and raised, or he’s going to put her further into hiding - she doesn’t know. what she does know is nothing has changed about the southern kingdom and nothing has changed about yunho.

the cold grip he holds on his land suffocates everything it touches. from the minute she’d woken up she’d found herself overwhelmed with the despair that’s sunken the land. she doesn’t know the old southern kingdom but she knows enough to know it’s people and kingdom was never always this soaked in sadness. it’s sadness that comes from entrapment, hopelessness. there’s prosperity yes, but people walking in fear, emotions tangled and turned that aren’t theirs to keep or have.

the land is sad. she can tell. feel it. and yunho wears it proudly. he always has.

he’s been able to access the ability to twist and turn emotions from a young age, and had people been able to resist that ever so snaring seelie charm they might have noticed before it was too late. his takeover was inevitable, mina had thought their first meeting would be their last and she soon found out that no one ever gets to refuse a seelie prince. not really. what was a joke maybe a harmless courting and an abomination to his kind became a witch hunt and as he sought her hand in marriage mina sought to protect herself and the people around her. going into hiding was easy, but watching the world fall apart was not.

she thinks back to the day when the walls in her study began to rumble, and the gentle cackles of his spell began to break through. she’d known he’d be back. she hadn’t calculated the time as well as she’d hoped, but she’d seen it coming.

no one refuses a seelie prince, certainly not a seelie king.

so here she is, held captive only by the knowledge that she couldn’t get far if she tried to.

he visits as he pleases.

mina’s restrained by nothing, no chains no spells but she keeps her position firm. she’s barely moved since she’s arrived taking her position far away from the bed he’s had fashioned in the corner of the room. the tower isn’t terrible, it’s certainly not a dungeon. in fact, it’s fit for a queen and that’s exactly why she wants nothing to do with it. the window overlooks the kingdom as much as it overlooks the vastness of his castle. a castle that empties into the cold, frozen forest. the southern forest gleams even in the night in whites and blues, a hazy poison that’ll capture the mind before the skin.

she’s not stupid, she takes showers as permitted, eats as she’s allowed, but doesn’t touch the dresses left on the bed, doesn’t pass the vanity, fashioned out of the scales of probably the old sirens of the south. it’s cruel how he brandishes his takeover. but it’s not uncommon. he’s flashy with his power but not careless. he makes a show of things. just like now when a portal materializes to bring him right on the bed, royal robes pooling on the floor.

‘you’re still in your institute dress, does that not bore you?’

the game begins again.

mina doesn’t speak. the game that’s being played, most wouldn’t dare engage in. mina knows that. she also knows that not many people would hold their tongue to a seelie king and live to see the end of the day. she knows of the privilege that is his affection for her. it’s obsessive and destructive but it keeps her alive, for now. as his presence encloses her, mina keeps still and quiet.

‘you aren’t my prisoner i’m sure you know.’   “i thought you enjoyed having such things.” ‘there’s a lot i enjoy, would you care to know?’ “i'd much rather choke on my own tongue.”

it’s a carefully placed challenge. she’s well aware that her defiance is something that excites him. she sees the excitement, hears the hum of delight each time she speaks, meets his eye. most wouldn’t dare, couldn’t dare. they’d be strung, impaled on an icicle before they could get far.

but she’s not. and she plays with the idea as gently as she can. 

even when he’s moving around, free in his control of her space and her comfort she’s careful and deliberate not to watch him. not to follow or cling to the idea of his presence. 

‘that can be arranged you know -’ mina feels it, the beginning itch of a burn, cold and sharp in her chest. it’s a tickle, just as the tingle in her mind is. yunho’s presence is a slow, creeping cold in the corners of her mind. it doesn’t hurt - yet. ‘you. writhing, begging for your life.’ it prickles like a coming headache, like cold air after walking through ice devoid of breath. it’s a touch and mina struggles not to claw at her own chest, not to move and show she feels it. yunho keeps speaking, keeps prodding, his powers like the tip of an iceberg. taunting. 'but i have decided to be nice.’ 

when the feeling recedes mina lets out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. tears prickle at the corner of her eyes from the relief of the headache. they’re wiped away by his hand. his nails sharper than she remembers though, becoming king does something different to each seelie. what it’s done to him she can see, feel even. before his proposal had been a bold thing, obnoxious at most. his eyes were brown then, now they’re a black bordering on blue, the color in it only what appears to be the color of crystals that would play on an obsidian stone. his hands are colder, stronger and calloused. there’s almost no warmth in it, and his skin well - perhaps the blue veins are more prominent now, they run across his skin like tattoos. it’s frightening actually but she holds her ground as a sharp nail catches the tears. 

yunho lets it run down his finger, lets it disappear under his sleeve and when his eyes meet her she can’t decipher what they say. she’s not sure anyone can. but his brows are furrowed and she can only hope he’s got something worth saving his soul in there. but his face is blank again, even as his hands move to tangle themselves in her hair. it’s grown quite a bit, she knows this. she’s attempted to pull it back but there’s the sound of a band popping and she feels it fall against her back. the way yunho regards her, she likes to think it’s something akin to care, maybe love in whatever way he knows it. 

‘it doesn’t have to be miserable here.’

and yet, mina couldn’t imagine a greater misery. marriage aside, yunho’s tyrannical nature aside, the suffocation of the position and the title, a betrayal of all the values she holds dear? for what? for guaranteed safety of her own life. mina could never. and yunho knows that, it’s why it grants him so much pleasure to do all he can to strip it away. it’s slow, each gentle run of his fingers through her hair, every dance of breath as he circles her. each resolve she’s built up with each day.

“i could think of nothing worse, than spending days locked in here with you.”

what flickers across his face isn’t hurt at rejection, it’s anger first, then more amusement. always amusement. he laughs and mina knows she’s letting relief when he steps back from her space.

‘you know my seer told me something interesting today.’ he’s moving to the vanity now, where clothes and jewels have longed piled up. ‘would you like to know?’ his voice is booming, brimming with the sneer that she only imagines makes him look more terrifying than usual. ‘says she caught two boys trying to sneak through the forest. fools were prepared for the poison but not entirely prepared for my spies.’ she sees him trifle with one of the dresses, pretends not to regard him. ‘imagine my surprise when one of them proves to be your little brother. i never did get to officially meet him.’

everything stills. mina can’t hide her gasp and those black eyes meet hers instantly.

‘now, i’m sure i don’t have to explain what i actually do to my prisoners. you can hear their screams from this tower can you not? i wonder how you would act if those screams sounded a little more familiar? hm?’ he’s right before her, each step of his boots more menacing than the next. mina’s own hands turn white as they grip her pants. yunho holds up what’s in her hand and by god she swears she’s had this nightmare, yunho holding minjae’s head up for her to scream and destroy herself at his feet over.

it’s just a dress though. 

it’s purple and white. it’s adorned with jewels and cinched at the waist, flowing so long it crumples near the bottom.

‘you will change won’t you? i had this one specially made.’

minjae. she can only assume the other boy is hyuck. 

‘and you will eat dinner with me? the cooks have worked so hard.’

she has no choice. he knows it well. it’s why the smile across his face is so wide, so sinister. her resolve splits as she hears the crackling of the portal.

‘i will see you later tonight then.’ as the portal seals mina finds the ground before she can take a breath. maids who’ve been waiting outside the door are the only ones who get some movement back with her. they help her to clean up, to breath through it all as they fix up her hair and fit her into the dress. she prepares herself, holds her head high, if anything for minjae and hyuck.

[dartlekey]

A Tale of Things Lost

Chapter 4: Sleep

Summary: Mistakes are made. So is breakfast. Inukawa's bed is surprisingly wide, but his siblings are a pain.

Notes: I wish I had a best friend like Takenaka. By the end of this chapter, so will you, I hope.

Previous chapter | First chapter

*

Takenaka hated Football games with a passion.

You'd think the destruction of half of Spices City would at least deter the organizers from scheduling another game, but no. According to the dude on TV, it was actually “in defiance of this tragedy” that the game was held. Takenaka wished they could save their defiance for another time - perhaps when he wasn't trying to sleep.

Sighing, he rolled over on his bed and grabbed his phone. Once he'd stopped squinting from the harsh glare of the screen, he opened his tumblr blog, hoping that looking through his aesthetic tag would make him drowsy enough to block the voices - only that he was almost immediately interrupted by the message icon popping up.

What's Inukawa doing up at 12:30 am, he thought tiredly, and checked the message.

You still awake? ʕ•ﻌ•ʔ, Inukawa had written. The cutesy emoji were normal for him; Takenaka often had fun imagining Inukawa's actual expression as he typed those - he suspected it was the same he wore when they were alone, which was somewhere between ‘ugh’ and ‘dead inside’.

Yeah, why? Takenaka texted back. The “...” symbol came up almost immediately, but stayed there for quite a while, occasionally disappearing only to come back up seconds later. Takenaka frowned at his screen. This did not bode well.

He was staring at the screen so hard it took him a few seconds to realize that Inukawa had finally sent his response.

 …because I think I kinda had a panic attack just now (￣□￣;;) Thought you should know, since you’re my mental health rep or whatevs ﾍ(￣▽￣*)ﾉ  

Takenaka dropped his phone on his face in shock. For a few seconds he just lay there, dazed - then he sat up and grabbed his jacket from his desk chair. Be there in ten. Stay put. He didn't wait for the response, instead hurrying out of his room and down the stairs, trusting in the fact that his mother was a heavy sleeper.

He arrived at Inukawa’s house seven minutes later huffing from exhaustion. One week of body improvement club hadn't exactly increased his endurance much; or actually at all, it felt like - at least he hadn't had that far to go.

Inukawa's head was already sticking out of his window, glaring at Takenaka in disbelief. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Providing emotional support,” Takenaka said, “Now let me in, it's freezing out here.”

“Wha- you can't just come in! My parents are watching TV in the living room, they'll see you walk down the hallway - and they won't be happy, seeing as it's one in the morning, and I'm still grounded for disappearing for two weeks.”

Takenaka frowned. “Why would they watch TV at quarter to one in the first place?”

“How should I kn- what are you doing.”

“Climbing through your window. Good thing you're on the ground floor, I don't think I'd be able to scale your house's drain.”

“Takenaka, I swear-”

“Shush. I'm concentrating.”

So he said, then slipped and fell through the window, faceplanting onto Inukawa's bedroom floor. “Ouch.”

“You sure you were concentrating?” Inukawa quipped, looking down at him with no move to help him up. Takenaka shot him a glare, carefully touching his nose to check for bleeding. “A little gratitude would be nice, you know.”

“Gratitude for what? I didn't ask you to come here.”

“Yes you did,” Takenaka snapped, harsher than he'd meant to. “I know you, Inukawa; you wouldn't have texted me unless you were desperate for help - so a few concerned words on the screen would hardly have sufficed as comfort. Your hands are still shaking, for fucks sake.”

Inukawa looked down in surprise, and quickly shoved his trembling hands into his pockets. “Oh. Ah.“

Takenaka sighed, and sat down on the bed, brushing off an empty bag of chips. “So. Wanna talk about it? “

Inukawa hesitated. “I don’t really - uh… Could we just look at the stars for now?”  God, this is embarrassing. But it does help me calm down...

Takenaka nodded, a bit taken aback by Inukawa's odd request - but he had no reason not to comply. “The stars? Uh, sure.”

Inukawa sat down next to him on the bed, which was, conveniently, directly opposite the window. Takenaka looked out, and was surprised by the amount of stars they could see despite being in a city. I guess Inukawa lives in a place with little light pollution. Lucky him.

Takenaka glanced back at Inukawa and was suddenly struck by how young he looked, with his fearful eyes set on the stars outside, shaking hands crumpling the blanket beneath him. Inukawa was fourteen, he had to remind himself, just like himself; a second year in middle school. Going on age alone, his eyes shouldn't yet hold as much bitterness as they did, and the happy smiles that danced over his face so often shouldn't be fake. Neither should his own, for that matter; neither of them deserved the curses they'd been afflicted with, and Takenaka felt an irrational surge of anger at the world for being so uncaring.

But he kept his silence, and watched the stars, and soon enough his anger had dissipated. No wonder that people have been stargazing for millennia, he thought curiously; it makes you feel oddly peaceful.  

Well, unless you really disliked space for some reason. “Is this okay for you? I mean, doesn't looking at the stars remind you of… uh…”

“Of Moetyl?”, Inukawa finished, his attempt at nonchalance lost to the tremble of his voice. “No. Actually, rather the opposite - since I never saw the stars from there…”

At seeing Takenaka's confused expression, he explained, ”You see, Moetyl has no day or night because of their planet's rotation. It's like earth and the moon - you know, like people all around the world only ever see one side of the moon because its rotation around itself correlates in a certain way to its rotation around earth? So, the N’Eivackh have the same thing going on, if you equate their sun to earth and their planet to the moon - so basically, half the planet is always dark, and the other half always light. And I was slap-bang in the middle of the central sunny continent. The only way I could keep track of time was my wristwatch... “

Takenaka nodded, wondering how Inukawa knew so much about the other planet's strange rotation patterns but knowing better than to ask. After all, he probably doesn’t know either, how he got that information. “Permanent sun, huh? Good thing they don't have vampires. Or do they?”

 Inukawa laughed, his voice cracking in a way that sounded suspiciously like a sob. “No, at least not that. But it was shit as a human as well, you know - it was so draining. You wouldn't believe how hard it is to get proper rest without nighttime; I was permanently exhausted... anyway, looking at the night sky here reminds me that I'm definitely back on earth.”

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, for once a tangled mess instead of the neat bob Takenaka had grown used to. “That's actually what set me off, more or less. I turned the main lights off to go to sleep but I’d forgotten that my desk lamp was on - and, well, the desk being right next to the window, I only processed myself turning off the lights but bright light coming from outside after midnight and I…”

He took a deep breath and exhaled shakily, revealing how high-strung he still was. “I just lost it completely. I thought I was back on Moetyl, and that I’d… that I’d die there alone, and never see another human soul again. That I’d either go mad or kill myself, and didn’t know which sounded worse. Or that I’d never die and be stuck there for eternity…”

He managed another sob-chuckle. “Now that I say it out loud, it sounds ridiculous, but it seemed so incredibly real at the time. I - God, I was so afraid…”

Takenaka didn’t know what to say to that - but he knew what to do. So he shifted closer to his best friend and shared something he usually hated to talk about simply from the shame of it… Strangely enough, in front of Inukawa, he didn’t feel ashamed at all.

“When I was younger, I used to cry every time there was a big game in Spices City. Didn’t matter what sport, I didn’t know the difference back then anyway, nor did I care. I hadn’t discovered earplugs yet, and the whole city converging in a mass of sound and emotion was an absolutely terrifying experience. My parents couldn’t even begin to understand what I was suffering through - to them, I was sobbing and screaming for no reason, and my dad gave up trying to help when I flinched away from his touch. But my mom was stubborn, and eventually found something that worked to calm me down... She’d have me lie on my stomach like so,” he pushed the other boy sideways, and Inukawa obediently flopped onto his stomach, eyes glinting curiously in the moonlight. “And then she’d draw circles on my back, like so…” He began the pattern, three little circles, then three big ones, then the little ones again - and repeat.

“The SOS pattern?” Inukawa realized, after a few rounds. “Yeah,” Takenaka said quietly. “I loved morse code as a kid, since it’s the one language with no ugly subtext - plus it has a kind of puzzle feeling to it. A mind game, you know? And Mom knew I loved it, so she built it into her pats for me to figure out... Oh, and she sang to me, those cheesy songs that always came on the American radio. Her English was terrible, but I still loved it…”

He paused, and made a face. “I’m not singing for you though, just so you know.”

Inukawa laughed, and it sounded a bit more real this time. “I should hope not. I heard you at last years’ school festival, you can’t hold a tune for shit.”

“Hey!”, Takenaka protested, but he did it with a smile; Inukawa having his nasty sense of humor back seemed like a good sign. And since he never told Takenaka to stop, he continued drawing circles on Inukawa's back,  switching symbols after a while - stars, smiley faces, fishes; whatever came to mind.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed when he realized that Inukawa had fallen asleep. Sighing, Takenaka stretched, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed. He should head home, really; there was no point in staying…

 But the bed was super comfortable. And it really was cold outside…

Okay, five minutes, Takenaka told himself as he stretched out next to Inukawa. Close your eyes for five minutes, then head home.  

 *

Definitely more than five minutes later, Takenaka woke to a shrill ringing, his limbs entangled with someone else's.

“Ugh, Tetsu,” Inukawa grumbled even before his eyes were open, “I told you not to just climb into my bed uninvi-” He immediately fell silent as soon as his eyes opened. “You're… not my little brother.”

“Uh, no,” Takenaka said awkwardly, extricating himself from the tangle of legs and blankets. “Sorry, I really didn't mean to fall asleep here, it just kinda happened - Ohgodmymomisgonnakillme.”

In his haste, he fell out of the bed, slamming into Inukawa's floor for the second time that day. “What is it with me and floors,” he muttered as he searched for the alarm clock, which was still ringing loudly. “Ah there it - is…”

He looked up at Inukawa with surprise. “Why's your alarm set for so early?”

Inukawa chuckled. “Breakfast and bentos for everyone don't make themselves, you know.”

Takenaka opened his mouth only to close it again, feeling like a spoiled only child not for the last time. “Right. Then I'll leave you to that. Uh, see you at school?” Well, that would have been a good plan - but it seemed his stomach had awoken at the mention of breakfast, as it was now growling loudly. Takenaka flushed scarlet, wishing the floor would swallow him. This was not his morning.

Surprisingly, instead of a sharp-tongued witticism he received a sleepy smile from Inukawa. “Wanna have breakfast here?”

Takenaka frowned. “Uh, what about your parents?”

Inukawa waved a hand dismissively as he lazily swung his feet out of bed. “Don't worry. My dad's already left for work, and Mom doesn't roll out of bed until Tetsu needs to be taken to preschool.”

Takenaka hesitated, but breakfast did sound a lot more enticing than walking home in the early morning chill with an empty stomach. “...Alright then. Lead the way.”

 *

The first thing Inukawa did after entering the kitchen was put on the water boiler.

“Coffee?”, he asked. Takenaka nodded enthusiastically. “God, yes. I don’t think I’ll survive today otherwise.” Inukawa chuckled, and nodded towards the big round table dominating the centre of the room. “Sit down, if you want. I’m starting on the food.”

Takenaka sat down, curiously watching Inukawa juggle ingredients, pots and pans with practised ease. Apart from the occasional night when his mom was out on a date trying to find another step-dad for him, Takenaka had never cooked for himself before; he was sure that if he’d attempted to prepare so many things simultaneously, he would’ve lost track and burned something…

“Milk? Sugar?”

Takenaka blinked, then shook his head at Inukawa, who’d just placed a steaming mug in front of him. “Ah, no thanks. I drink it black.”

Inukawa stared at him, disbelief mingling with disgust. “You barbarian.”

Takenaka grinned and took a long slurp. Inukawa squeezed his eyes shut and turned back around to the kitchen isle. “Are you serious? Right in front of my salad?”

Takenaka choked on the coffee, cough-laughing as Inukawa returned to his cooking. “Serves you right,” Inukawa said smugly, then yawned. “Ugh. I need some caffeine too.” He stepped over to the water boiler, then back to Takenaka, then quickly shuffled to the stove again, where something had started to bubble. Takenaka looked down at the item Inukawa had placed off to the side - a small mug with the hiragana for “Mameta” clumsily scrawled across its surface, probably by a young Inukawa. Steaming away inside cup was a teabag; the label told Takenaka it was white tea.

Takenaka grinned. His dad called white tea “sissy tea”, because it was delicate and sweet instead of strong and bitter like green or black tea - of course Inukawa, with his sweet tooth and intense dislike for bitter things, would drink that for breakfast. He was extra that way.

Takenaka took another deep gulp of coffee, then paused curiously as he began to hear music drifting from a small speaker system above the stove. “Is that… the Breath Of The Wild OST?”

Inukawa glanced over, continuing to whisk eggs in a small bowl. “You’ve played the game? Didn’t think you were the type.”

Takenaka shook his head, embarrassed. “Ah, no. I just like listening to gaming soundtracks when I’m out and around people. No vocals, so I still get a break from the voices, but not dry like classical stuff. It’s just… relaxing, I guess.”

“Hmm,” hummed Inukawa thoughtfully, tossing the eggs into a pan. “I see.”

They spent the next few minutes in silence, just listening to the soundtrack drifting across the kitchen, but as the coffee woke him up properly, Takenaka grew restless. “Hey, is there anything I can help you with?”

“Eh,” Inukawa deadpanned, not even turning this time, “I'd rather you don't, you'll get in my way.”

“Oh.”

Takenaka awkwardly took another sip of coffee. Well, that sucked, even though he knew Inukawa was right. Still didn't help him feel less dumb -

He looked up in surprise as Inukawa placed down an array of bowls in front of him, as well as five lunchboxes of varying sizes. “You can arrange the bentos - wash your hands first, though.”

Takenaka nodded, jogging over to the sink already as he tried to hide his smile. Now that was a part of cooking he could manage. I guess Inukawa can be thoughtful, if he wants to be.  

“If I may ask,” he said as he started scooping the food into the boxes, “what was the food on Moetyl like?”

Even with his earplugs still in and Inukawa's back turned, Takenaka could feel the dislike radiating from the other boy.

“Let's just say some of it was still moving.”

“Ew!”, Takenaka responded incredulously. “Really?”

Inukawa laughed. “Really. Oh, they had this pink jelly stuff though, it tasted like marshmallows with cinnamon. Nina would have loved it.”

“Did you say my name, Mame-chan?”, a sleepy voice from the doorway said - then gasped, now clearly awake, “Holy shit. Haru-chan, come quick, you gotta see this."

A taller girl (maybe twelve?) appeared in the doorway next to the twin-tailed monster, looking curiously inside the kitchen - then her eyes caught on Takenaka, sitting as he was at the kitchen table in yesterday's crumpled clothes and his messy morning hair. “Wow. I… was not expecting that.”

“I told you he was Mametas boyfriend! You owe me 500 yen.”

Inukawa choked, then spluttered, “Wha- he's not my boyfriend! We're just-”

“Just friends?”, Nina quipped dubiously as her older sister gave Takenaka a disbelieving stare. “Really, Mame-chan? You’re telling me that as he sits at our table with his sex hair?”

Takenaka's jaw dropped. “My what?” How does she even know what that is at her age? She barely looks nine! ...No wonder Inukawa has trouble with his family.  

“Now, don't jump to conclusions, Nina,” Haru said calmly as she walked to the table and sat down across from Takenaka. “Maybe they're just friends with benefits.” Nina frowned as Takenaka made a strangled wheezing noise. “What's that?”

Inukawa interrupted before Haru could respond. “Not something you should know until you're older. Actually, not something Haru should know either; I think I need to tell Mom to stop letting you buy those BL manga…” He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Let's just agree that this conversation never happened and have breakfast.”

Nina frowned. “What? No! I want compensation for my bet - give me my 500 yen, then we'll have breakfast.”

Inukawa raised an eyebrow. “You really think I'm going to spend money on your dumbass bets about my love life?”

She smirked. “Actually, yes. Because mom doesn't know about your boyfriend… ah, I mean, special friend staying over - and I bet you don't want her to know.” She paused, her eyes widening. “Wait, is that what benefits means?”

Takenaka stared at the unfolding fight, quite stunned at his first encounter of ‘love amongst siblings’. Inukawa on the other hand seemed quite used to it, as he just scowled, eyes narrowing at the little devil. “Fine. But stop calling him my boyfriend, that feels gross and I don't want to lose my appetite.”

While Takenaka probably should have felt insulted, he didn't; rather he felt the same way. He was well aware that usually people who were just friends didn't randomly visit each other at 1am, even if the other was in trouble... and they certainly didn't sleep in the same bed, cuddling. (Not that that bit had been on purpose.) But even so, with Inukawa it had felt so natural, so easy - no attraction, no butterflies or whatever was supposed to float around your stomach and turn your brain into mush; just a connection of two weary minds, enjoying each others company. Calling it dating somehow felt insulting to the understanding they had.

Not that Nina seemed to get it. “Maybe~”, she just intoned in a sing-song voice, sauntering over.

Takenaka frowned. Now this was unnecessary, although perhaps… Ah, bingo. “Actually,” he said, immediately gaining everyone's attention, ”Inukawa doesn't owe you anything. Well, not unless you want him to tell your mother that you only scored 23 points on that last maths test.”

Takenaka's gaze was met by three wide open pairs of eyes. He smiled innocently. “I finished the bentos, by the way. Can we eat now? I'm starving.”

Haruka was the first to respond, grinning widely for the first time that morning. “You know what? I don't care what he is to you, nii-san - but you definitely gotta keep him.”

Inukawa didn't even respond verbally this time, he just grabbed his tea and took a big gulp.

 Ugh, I'm not old enough for this.

[4lyeskas]

songs out of emptiness

read it on Ao3 SERIES: Yuri!!! On Ice PAIRING: Viktor Nikiforov x Katsuki Yuuri RATING: Mature / M WARNINGS/TAGS: aftermath of major character death; Greek Mythology AU; Orpheus and Eurydice AU; magical realism; violinist Viktor and skater Yuuri; angst

a viktuuri rewrite of my original songs out of emptiness fic

After Katsuki Yuuri dies, Viktor Nikiforov is quiet.

He’s always thought that when your heart shatters, it will be loud; there will be tears and tearing at your hair and even screaming. He’s thought that people get drunk and spend hours upon hours crying. It would be a chaos of emotions, a hurricane; a fracturing of yourself until everything is in pieces.

In reality, Viktor discovers, when the heart shatters it is not loud. Rather, it is simply the soft splintering of your soul as your whole being comes undone, leaving you with nothing but emptiness. Your heart quietly, painstakingly unravels and ebbs, leaving you with nothing but a void. Leaving you in only a terrifying silence.

When Katsuki Yuuri dies, the only noises in the hospital room are the incessant flat beep of the heart monitor and the hollow of the doctor’s voice as she calls the time of death. Katsuki Yuuri dies, and Viktor is quiet.

And in everything, Viktor blames only himself.

In the aftermath, Viktor remains quiet.

No one can make him speak. Chris tries to cajole him, visiting and sitting by Viktor, prodding him with gentle stories and questions, but Viktor gives no reply. Mila fusses around him, but Viktor simply tunes her out. One time, Georgi suggests maybe Viktor should move somewhere else or at least put away some of Yuuri’s things. But this earns him such a look that Georgi goes cold and even Mila is shaken. Nobody suggests anything of the sort after that.

It is Yuri who gets Viktor to move, just a little; it is Yuri who shares something of the same grief, after all. Yuri is the one who gets him to eat, small things like fruits and pirozhki; is the one who curls up beside Viktor on the couch and leans against him. Sometimes Otabek comes with him, and they are all quiet while Viktor simply sits and breathes into empty spaces.

(In that same season, Yuri smashes through every record he’s made and takes every competition with a frightening, single-minded determination. He doesn’t attend the banquets, the after-parties. His smile on the ice is like a knife edge, when he smiles at all.)

Viktor sees Yuri skate, and remembers Yuuri. Remembers how bright and beautiful he had been, how free. Viktor had never restrained his admiration and awe, his love for everything Yuuri had laid out on the ice. And in return, he gave Yuuri his music, pulling songs from his fingers for Yuuri to skate to, songs that would encompass everything inside of him and between them. Every note, every score, every astonishing show of genius had been for that beautiful, sweet boy from Hasetsu, to whom Viktor had wanted to give the world.

In the darkness of his Nevsky Prospekt apartment, Viktor sits, holding onto an old sweater of Yuuri’s. He sits there and thinks that now, his whole world is gone.

Each time the sun rises, Viktor looks around his home and remembers.

Memory is a painful and terrible thing, and yet Viktor clings to it like a lifeline. He thinks that he might hurt less if he could forget, but he refuses to; memory is all he has left. Amidst what remains of the home they had built together, the life they had shared, all he can do is remember, so that something of Yuuri will persist and linger.

He remembers how Yuuri had looked in the mornings: sleep-rumpled, smiling blearily, eyes crinkled shut against the daylight as he murmurs a good morning. He remembers how Yuuri had looked in their living room, playing with Makkachin on the floor with graceful limbs spread out and laughter spilling from his mouth. He remembers how Yuuri had felt wrapped around him in the night, pulling him close; how his fingers had felt carding through Viktor’s hair and brushing down his jaw. He remembers how Yuuri’s lips would sometimes taste like strawberries.

He remembers the first time they had kissed, exhilarated and breathless, the first time Yuuri had ever won gold: Viktor standing in the lobby amidst a throng of reporters and fans, and Yuuri emerging with pink cheeks and bright eyes. There had been no hesitations when Yuuri had looked over at him and smiled; in that moment, all Viktor could think about was that I love him.

(All the papers the next day, talking about the relationship of Russian violin prodigy Viktor Nikiforov and Japanese figure skating sensation Katsuki Yuuri, but all Viktor had cared about was that Yuuri loved him back.)

He remembers the first time Yuuri had taken him to bed, and how every touch had made his skin feel electric, how he had felt like drowning and flying all at once. He remembers the last time and the last kiss, easy as breathing, walking down the street on a snowy Monday evening.

Viktor curls up and into himself slowly, painfully.

That had been the last time they’d had together, as well.

The sweater he’s been clutching no longer smells like Yuuri, so Viktor gets up to root through the laundry pile in their room (and how Yuuri would scold him about the chores, Viktor, you can’t just leave things like this!). He opens the closet to poke around, and accidentally dislodges something from behind a pile of Yuuri’s shirts.

It’s a package, long and slim, painstakingly but clumsily wrapped. There’s a small card on it, and on it, in awkward Russian print, is written Viktor’s name and the phrase Happy Birthday. (A birthday Yuuri will no longer be here for, the first one he will miss since they had met.)

With shaking fingers, Viktor picks it up and unwraps it. The schick of tearing paper is almost deafening after having gone so long only hearing the sounds of the city outside and his own breathing.

It’s a violin bow.

It’s not an expensive one, nothing terribly high-class, not like the French or Italian bows that Viktor has used over the years. He can tell the wood isn’t the best, nor the hair with which it’s strung. It’s simple, functional, and carefully if a bit inexpertly polished. Viktor looks at it and thinks that it was probably the best Yuuri could have afforded on his own.

(And he remembers, that fight they’d had, when Yuuri had just flown in from Skate Canada and Viktor had been practicing until the ungodly hours of the morning. He’d forgotten, foolishly, and Yuuri had stormed out of their room and snatched the bow from his hands, yelling at Viktor to stop because it was driving him crazy, and neither of them had noticed at first the loud crack as the bow snapped on contact with a nearby table, until Viktor’s eyes had gone wide and he’d let out a strangled gasp—)

Viktor waits for the grief to well up, the noise to come. He waits for tears, for sobs, for screams, for the inevitable explosion of emotions that he has likely long been due. But instead the chasm inside of him only seems to widen, dark and bottomless and soundless, breaking him further open.

Suddenly, Viktor cannot stand the silence.

He takes the bow and stands, leaving the jumble of the closet behind him. He’s not sure when he last changed his clothes but he doesn’t care. He looks like a mess but it doesn’t matter. This, what he has in his hands, is something of Yuuri that is more than just a memory, and that alone warms him like nothing has since that horrible November evening. He cradles it in his palm as he searches for a box that has gone dusty from lack of use.

It is Mila who hears first; she is outside the apartment building, on her way to check if Viktor has eaten and if perhaps they can have lunch. The sound is faint, but she would recognize it anywhere. She comes to a halt on the snow-covered sidewalk, hands pressed to her mouth; the tears welling at the corners of her eyes are biting cold. She doesn’t care.

Far above, alone in the living room, Viktor presses his chin to the violin harder and plays on.

Viktor has never thought of himself as a man of faith; he ascribes to no gods or gospels, only to truths he sees with his own eyes. But after so much has been taken from him and so much has been spent, there is no more room in him for surprise when she appears.

He has been playing for hours, day after day, every tune he has ever coaxed from his fingers. Every song he had ever made for Yuuri, even those he had never finished, never given; music of his own devising, strings of notes plucked from his mind and the depths of the emptiness inside of him. He plays and he closes his eyes, sees Yuuri on the ice, sweeping lines of motion; sees Yuuri in their bedroom, with smiles and soft skin; Yuuri in the summer sun, everything Viktor could ever want and ask for.

Viktor plays what he cannot put into words and no longer has to, not when the boy from Hasetsu is not here to listen. He plays as Orpheus incarnate, violin instead of lyre, for a Eurydice who has been taken from him.

Persephone watches slender fingers dance over strings; sees their redness, their calluses, their weariness, and their determination to play on. She stands and listens, in her dark dress with its dead flowers, to a requiem far deeper and more painful than a man should ever know or bring forth. She feels both human and immortal parts stir inside her, at this reminder of a man who had walked the path to Hades long before, to beg of her to give him his world back.

When Viktor has finished, drawn out the last notes and let them reverberate in the air, this elegy he was never able to say, she speaks.

“Ask, mortal,” she says simply, a cold voice in the grey morning light. “Ask, and I shall give as I once did, ages and centuries ago, to one who has lost such as you.”

Viktor confronts her, head high and eyes hollow; he clasps the bow tight and faces the Queen of the Underworld, resplendent and terrifying in all her inhuman glory. For the first time since Yuuri had died, he speaks.

“Give him back.”

The Underworld is very, very white.

The bones that form its structure are white, the fogs that spreads throughout is white, and the eerie glow that bathes everything is a chilling white edged with sickly green. But this white is not warm and welcoming; the white of the Underworld is bleak, barren, and daunting to the bone. It is the absolute lack of color, of life, and in his navy blue shirt and purple sock Viktor feels quite small.

The Lord of the Dead himself does not look pleased.

“What business does a mortal have in Hades?” he booms as Viktor approaches, violin in hand, far calmer than a human has the right to be when he is in the depths of the underworld and still breathing. Persephone floats up to her husband, pale hair streaming behind her.

“Another Orpheus, my love. He has asked, and I have brought him here.”

Hades turns his severe and stony gaze on Viktor, who looks back with defiance etched in his gaunt cheeks, the sharp cut of his shoulders. Then Hades turns to Persephone with a weary expression, not at all like the ruler of the dead and damned. “This is for his beloved, is it not? Why do you ask for him? He came to me in certainty, knowing you remained on earth; his thread parted as easily as water for a ship.”

In response, Viktor lifts his violin and plays the selfsame song that Persephone had heard in the emptiness of his flat. In the Underworld where one only hears the cries of the dead and the roars of Cerberus, the music is glorious and raw and anguished. The white of the Underworld turns Viktor’s skin nearly translucent, his hair colorless, but Viktor closes his eyes and sees only Yuuri, soft and warm, whose love was simple and straightforward. Yuuri taking his hand, leading him on to anywhere and everywhere; Yuuri kissing him and kissing him in the dark of their bedroom. Yuuri at the end of every routine, with one final gesture: right hand on his heart, left outstretched to where he knows Viktor is, always would be.

Persephone kneels at her husband’s feet and listens. Hades watches, impassive, and feels his ichor stir as he, too, remembers a pitiful Grecian man playing a very similar song in these very halls.

When Viktor has finished, Hades stands, curling robes of smoke sweeping from his shoulders and the bone crown of the Underworld at his brow. He gestures, and Persephone calls out a clear, heartrending note. There is a whisper of air and suddenly Katsuki Yuuri stands before Viktor, still in the coat and jeans he’d been wearing the night he had died. He shuffles his feet, bites his lip, and smiles at Viktor – Yuuri, Yuuri, unchanged and looking so very alive. Viktor cries out and starts forward, but Hades stops him with a wave of his hand.

“The same rules, mortal, as when Eurydice was returned to Orpheus in the days when we gods freely walked the Earth. Not one look, nor touch, nor word from you towards this man, until you both have crossed the threshold of the Underworld. Break this and he is lost to you forever, until your own thread is cut and your soul comes to rest with his. Do you understand?” Hades trains his dark eyes on Viktor, who nods, tight-lipped and trembling. “Very well. Go; he shall be right behind you.”

As Viktor turns, Persephone rises, the folds of her gown billowing around her. She catches Viktor’s hand in both of hers, with a touch so cold it burns his skin. “Heed my husband’s words, mortal, and have not the fate of Orpheus the Greek. Even the slightest glimpse will revoke this gift, and your beloved will remain here forever.”

She lets him go with one last, emphatic look, then drifts back to her throne. Viktor closes his eyes as a shiver of foreboding runs down his spine, and then he walks from the halls of Hades without looking back.

The path back to the upper world is long and winding, the cobblestones uneven beneath Viktor’s feet. It reminds Viktor a little of the path at a park back in St. Petersburg, one he and Yuuri had walked down many times on many walks, in their many days together.

(And how gently Yuuri had wound the scarf around Viktor’s neck, reminding him not to catch a cold because he had a performance coming up; how warm had his touch been when they’d held hands and meandered through the chilly night. Viktor had been telling Yuuri about his time growing up in this city, about wanting to be a football player and an astronaut and an engineer, about how he’d fallen in love with music. And all the leaves strewn across the path, Yuuri jumping and crunching every one he could get at, just to make Viktor laugh—)

Except for Viktor’s footsteps and breathing, all is silent.

(He tries so hard not to think that when they return, his life will no longer be silent, will once again find the color that Yuuri had brought in with his pink cheeks and bright eyes.)

The temptation to look back, to reach behind him and touch, is greater than any craving Viktor has ever known; it is sheer need, because Yuuri was taken from him, was gone too long, but now he is right there and—

There is a small thought that arrests Viktor’s steps: is he?

He cannot hear Yuuri, cannot see him. Viktor can only trust that Hades is good on his word, and Yuuri is following behind. But in tangibles and absolutes, there is nothing to make certain that there is someone a few steps behind him; nothing tells him that Yuuri is truly there.

(And Viktor is not a man of faith; he ascribes to no gods or gospels. He needs to see and understand for himself, by himself—)

The gate is close. Hades and Persephone are far behind them. Surely – surely he can look? Surely he can check, just once, because while Yuuri had always been there when Viktor had looked, within easy reach of his hands and his heart – that had been when they were both alive and breathing and finding each other’s heartbeats. That had been when Viktor could look, and touch, and make sure.

It would just be one look.

(Have not the faith of Orpheus, Persephone had warned.)

But Viktor needs to see, to know for sure.

Yuuri had always been there—

But not that one night, walking home in the snow, the screech of tires on asphalt and a thud so sickening that for days after Viktor would wake up to the sound echoing in his ears, nauseated and panicked.

He shall be right behind you.

Viktor has gone so many long, agonizing days without.

It would be just one look.

Just one, and they are almost there.

Just one look.

When Viktor crosses the threshold, he tightens his grip on the violin bow and barely, slightly, imperceptibly turns his head.

Yuuri stands there, just a few steps away, inside the gates of Hades.

Their eyes meet, and in Yuuri’s gaze Viktor realizes that he has condemned himself to his own hell, because for this second time Yuuri will be taken from him, but this time it is well and truly his fault.

The last Viktor sees of Yuuri is of the man reaching out, mouth open as if to say something, growing more and more faded with every excruciating heartbeat. Viktor starts forward, desperate for just one touch, just one, just one more brush of his skin against Yuuri’s, but he has barely shifted his bones when Yuuri vanishes.

Viktor’s hand closes around empty air.

The violin and its bow clatter to the ground.

Yuuri is gone.

All at once Viktor is back in his apartment, standing in the living room and surrounded by every memory of a life he had built with the man he loves. There is the faintest scent of lilies and incense in the air; the smells of a funeral, of the dead.

Viktor drops to his knees and screams, sobbing into the silence, clutching at his chest.

Down in Hades, in the Elysian Fields, Yuuri thinks he can hear the soft notes of a violin.

[introvertedauditorium]

the beginning

Where to begin? I cannot type fast enough to express all of the emotions and words running through my brain. I feel like at the moment, my life is jumbled. Social media, friends, health, family.. but yet -no immediate focus. It’s been years since i’ve woken up truly happy.. but i’ll never tell anyone that. I’m not exactly sure what compelled me to come on here and start clicking away at my keyboard. Was it the constant unease that I feel on a daily basis? I have everything put together yet nothing is ever good enough. 

Let’s start off by letting you all know that I work in the restaurant industry. I cannot even begin to explain how draining it is. I’ve heard that it’s more stressful on the human brain then being a neurosurgeon - I definitely can see that. I don't know how people do it for their life career. Its terrifying. Introverted extrovert. The last job I ever imagined myself doing growing up would be what i’m doing right now. I honestly and truly believe that doing what I do sucks the life out of me. Happy. Sad. Excited. Angry. I bet even reading that just got you exhausted. These are the constant energies I pick up on as I shift from table to table. Some people love you, and some people hate you.. yet my personality and approach constantly remains the same.

Energy. I used to think it was hokey pokey.. but now I can pick up on it when I walk into a room. Every sense, every breath, every look from another human being and I know how they're feeling in that moment. I don't think my co workers understand why I’m constantly under stress. The moment I walk in the door, six different personalities hit me in the face. I’m lucky enough to be the person many people come to for comfort, or answers so that also gives me the job of being the sponge - just there to soak up everyones energy (good, or bad).

 Cape Breton is always high strung - and I get it. She's been working in this industry for 20 years plus and knows how a restaurant should be run.. yet all we survive on is chaos. She would rather have all of our ducks in a row where as i’d rather fly by the seat of my pants (is that the saying?) - regardless, our two different schools of thought end up balancing each other out but at the end of the day, its every man for themselves. 

Dice is here for the party, but when theres no party.. watch out. She is a soul sucker. Don’t get me wrong, I love her to death. I relate with her on so many levels. Sometimes I think I relate with her more then anyone i’ve ever known. I truly believe that if I needed her for any reason, she would be there for me in a pinch.. but her energy is ruthless and can cut you like a knife. She knows that. I’m pretty sure i’m the exact same way. Both of us in a room together could make a grown man cry. 

I could go on for paragraphs and paragraphs about my co workers and the energies they feed me on a daily basis - and i’m sure I will. Maybe everyone can have a separate write up of their own, but for now.. I need to focus on releasing my built up energy into this post. The world is a crazy place, it doesn’t need me to be going crazy too.  

I need to find myself this year - or at least work on it. There’s no telling what tomorrow brings but I need to take every day one step at a time - or one breath at a time. Slllllllllllllllllllooooooooooooooooooooooooowwwwwwwww ddddddooooooooowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwnnnnnnnn. Breathe. 

feelings: confused, helpless, postive, OK 

I.E.