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hongcherry · 1 year

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pretty please (stay with me) || c.sc | 4 (m)

“After being assigned a fashion show for your big senior project, you set off to find volunteers to make it successful. However, when you meet Choi Seungcheol and his unfriendly clique through your volunteers, you realize they’re an unwanted package deal you can’t escape from. Can you handle Seungcheol’s obnoxious friends, and can he handle your brash behavior?”

🍒 Pairing: businessMajor!Seungcheol x fashionMajor!Reader (f)

🍒 Rating/Genres/AUs: M(18+); Slice of life (!!!), slow burn, drama, fluff, angst, smut; Unrequited enemies to lovers, strangers to lovers, college au

🍒 Warnings: General tws + alcohol consumption/drunk character, one physical altercation (not domestic abuse; not between mc&Cheol), name calling not in bed (whore, bitch), vomit, joke about murder | [smut warnings] soft sex, messy sex, protected sex, oral (m & f), face fucking, gagging, light breast play, cum swallowing, light cum play, spit play

🍒 WC: 12.1k

🍒 Betas: Sarah, Indi, Kelly, Freya 💝

🍒 Author’s Note: I am SO sorry I haven't replied to some of your responses to the last chapter. Something big happened IRL that made me want to withdraw from people for a while. Though, I've read the feedback and appreciate all the sweet words! I promise to reply to them soon. Anyway, lots of stuff happening in this chapter, so please enjoy more drama 😬💖

also read here: AO3 | Wattpad

seventeen masterlist | main masterlist

previous chapter \\ series masterpost // next chapter

“Hold still!” you urge as you try to hold the fabric in place.

Mingyu squirms above you, tiny giggles escaping his mouth. “It tickles!”

“I’m going to stab you with this needle if you keep moving,” you explain and peer up at him.

“I’ll tell your boyfriend you said that,” he grumbles and calms his movements. His hands clench as he tries to resist the need to move.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” you reply, annoyed. You adjust the fabric on him, then slip in a needle to keep it in place.

“I’m sure Seungcheol won’t be happy to hear that,” he mutters.

Your eyes narrow, poking another needle in.

“Ow!” Mingyu cries and moves away from you. “That was on purpose.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Was it? I think you just moved wrong.”

“I didn’t move at all!” he argues.

You ignore his complaint and point back in front of you. He sighs, obliging to your request.

You had met Mingyu at his apartment to try out the outfit you made for him. For the most part, it fits nicely, but there are a few adjustments that need to be made.

You hear keys rattling at the door and peer your head to see who’s coming. Wonwoo and Seungkwan stroll in. They stop mid-sentence when they see you.

“Hey Yn, we didn’t know you’d be here,” Seungkwan greets. You turn away from them and attend to Mingyu again.

“Surprise,” you say, although with no enthusiasm in your tone.

“What’s going on?” Wonwoo asks while setting down his camera bag. He tosses his keys next to it and walks to the kitchen.

“Yn’s stabbing me with needles because I brought up her boyfrie—Ow!”

“Oops,” you shrug. You quickly pin the fabric in its new spot. You didn’t think it'd take this long, but Mingyu kept fidgeting.

“You have a boyfriend?” asks Seungkwan.

“No,” you reply curtly. “Done. Now, go take it off, so I can make the changes.”

“Finally,” Mingyu replies and leaves without another word. He probably doesn’t want to be poked with another needle.

“Who was he talking about then?” Seungkwan wonders.

“No one. How are you guys?” you ask in hopes to change the subject. You start repacking the bag you brought.

“Pretty tired, but that seems to be the normal life of a college student,” Seungkwan says with a chuckle.

“How’s the project?” Wonwoo chimes in, a glass of water in his hand.

You stand up from the floor and adjust your clothes. “It’s going,” you answer with an exhale.

“Are tickets on sale for it yet?” he questions. You pause in grabbing your purse from the couch.

“You’re going to go to it?” you ask, not expecting him to come. It doesn’t seem like his thing.

“Of course! We’re all planning to come—Shit, wait, was that a secret?” Seungkwan stops himself, his hand coming up to his forehead as his mouth opens.

“Dude!” Mingyu calls as he emerges from the other room. He hands you the garment, eyeing Seungkwan.

“Blame Wonwoo! He brought up getting tickets,” Seungkwan whines and sends a slender finger in Wonwoo’s direction.

“No one told me we weren't supposed to tell Yn,” Wonwoo huffs.

“Seungcheol’s going to rip you all a new one,” Mingyu tsks.

“Seungcheol?” you question and look at the tall man.

Has Seungcheol been planning for all of them to come to your show?

“Uh, a d-different Seungcheol. Not the one you know. Kim Seungcheol! Not Choi Seungcheol. Youdon’tknowhim,” Mingyu rambles, words rushing together. His gaze is darting around the room—landing on anything but your eyes.

“I see,” you say slowly. You know they’re aware you don’t believe Mingyu’s lie.

“Please don’t say anything to him,” Mingyu pleads, his lower lip sticking out in a pout. He’s such a big puppy.

You sigh, fixing your bag on your shoulder. “Say what to who?”

“Precisely.” Seungkwan smiles.

You make your way to the door, turning after you open it.

“I'll text you when we can meet again, Mingyu,” you inform him.

“Alright. Bye, Yn,” he replies. They all give you a wave as you exit their place.

You aren’t sure what to do with knowing Seungcheol is coming to the show. More unexpectedly, you don’t know what to do knowing he’s arranging for his friends to come too. You aren’t even sure if your father and Seoah will come. You’ll like to say that you don’t care if no one you know shows up. As long as scouts come and are amazed by your work, that’s all you need. Though the more you grow fond of these people, the more you want them to be your friends and support you like how Dae supports you. Beyond that, you want Seungcheol to support you—to be proud of you. Even though you aren’t supposed to know about his attendance, it gives you a sudden boost of motivation to do better. Not only for yourself but for your friends so they can be proud to say they know you.

You arrive at Dae’s fully prepared to have a sewing partner for the night. However, you end up with a shot glass in your hand at a bar.

“To almost being done with this project,” Dae declares, her glass rising in the air.

“What you said,” you reply. You clink your glass against hers, tapping it on the counter, then tipping your head back as you drown the alcohol. The burning in your throat is temporary, and you turn in your seat to look around while it settles. The place is crowded, as expected on a Friday night.

Dae had worked for twenty minutes before she let out a frustrated puff of air. She claimed she was tired of staring at fabric and needed a break. You suggested she go rest on the couch, but her idea of taking a break was different from yours. Despite your protests, Dae dragged you from her home and got a ride to her favorite bar. You used to accompany Dae here a lot, but you were never a drinker, and you often had to tend to your family most nights. Thus, your trips became less frequent.

Although Dae’s goal is to get drunk, yours is not. You’ve taken two shots and plan to call it a night. You don’t want to spend the night babysitting Dae, but it seems you have no choice. She’s dragged you from one bar to another—ordering a drink at each. She’ll offer you a sip, and each time, you shake your head.

The occasional person will slither up and offer to pay for your drinks. It’s annoying because you don't need to cater to boosting a stranger’s ego. They always want something in return, and you’re not going to give them anything.

You decline politely the first time, sternly the second, and bitchy the third. The ones who get the third “no” are less thrilled to hear it, but that doesn’t bother you. You are fully prepared to use your heels as a weapon if one gets too offended. Luckily, that hasn’t had to happen so far.

“Hm, ‘tis one tastes like… ‘otton ‘andy!” Dae exclaims excitedly as she takes another sip. You watch her redden-face light up for the nth time while drinking this one. “’ou should try it!”

You force a smile and shake your hand, telling her no. Her face drops.

“But you wuv ‘otton ‘andy,” she whines and slides the drink to you. Her eyes become glossier the longer you refuse the drink. “I pwomise ‘ou’d wuv it!”

You glance at the drink. It’s a pretty blue color and looks appetizing. Sighing, you raise the glass to your mouth. You let the liquid touch your lips, then set it down. Your tongue darts out to taste it. You have to admit, the small drop you get does taste good.

“Delicious,” you hum, giving her a big smile. Her body straightens quickly, and you grab her arm when she leans a little too far back.

“Shee!” she beams.

“Finish it, so we can go,” you instruct, moving the glass back. There isn’t much left. She shakes her head.

“You!” she answers.

“You deserve it more. You’ve been working hard,” you say. Her brows suddenly tilt down, mouth in a deep frown. She looks like she’s about to cry.

“’ve been! Gawd I’m sh-o tired, but I ‘ave to do goodth,” she says and puts her head on the table, although harder than she means to. You wince at the loud thud. “Can’t let ‘tis go to ‘atse.”

You place a hand on her back, rubbing soothing circles. “It won’t. Someone’s going to come and see your work and offer you a job. You’re talented, Dae.”

Her head lifts up, bobbing slightly at the weight. “Yeah?”

“Yes,” you answer, and you mean it. You don’t compliment her work as much as she does yours. It’s always easier not to mention it instead of risking a heartfelt conversation. Those always make you feel weird. “You’re not top of the class for no reason.”

She shakes her head. “’ou’re top of ta class.”

“I didn’t say you were the only one up there,” you tease gently, causing her to giggle.

“’m glad ‘ou think that o’ me,” she answers with a loud sigh. “It’s ‘ard to be compar’d to ‘ou.”

You try to hide your frown. She rarely mentions how being associated with you affects her. Sure, you’ve guessed before, but you’ve never brought up the topic. Partly because you’re afraid of the answer. You don’t want to hear how you’ve made her feel insecure. You don’t want to know all the troubles you’ve indirectly or directly put her through.

Although it will be easier to talk about this when she’s intoxicated since she may not remember it, it isn’t right.

“Don’t compare. You have talents I don’t have,” you say.

“’ike?” she wonders, but you shake your head.

“We can talk about it when you’re sober,” you explain. After making sure everything is paid for, you gently help her down the stool.

“’ne’ore bar!” she begs, hands holding your arms tightly.

“One more,” you repeat, “but a small drink this time,” you bargain.

“Ye’sh!” she shouts, throwing her arms up and tripping over her feet. You reach out quickly and steady her. Once she’s balanced again, you carefully walk toward the exit. You lean Dae against you to try to get her to stop swaying as you walk to the next bar.

“’ey! Whadd’s ‘at?” Dae quickly points to the floor, reaching down before you can stop her. The fast movement combined with the shift in weight has her falling to the floor. You instinctively reach out to ease her fall, but it’s no use. She’s on the floor before you can blink. There is laughter behind you, but you ignore it. It isn’t the first time someone’s fallen over from being drunk on this street.

“Fhuck!” Dae whines and stares at her hands. There are a few concrete burns on them, but nothing antibiotics and band-aids can’t fix.

“I think we’re done for the night,” you say and offer a hand to her.

She repositions to her hands and knees, reaching up to grab your outstretched hand. However, her supporting arm isn’t strong enough to hold her weight, and the sudden tug on your hand as she falls again forces you to the floor. You hit her head on the way down, yelping at the feeling and letting go of Dae to caress the area. Additionally to the thud, there is a crack as you fall.

For a second you think you broke something. Though, besides the soreness on your hands, knees, and head, nothing feels broken. You move your legs to rest in front of you only to see one of your shoes has lost its heel piece.

The giggles behind you grow louder.

“How pathetic,” a voice laughs. It’s familiar, but you dismiss it to be someone you heard in one of the bars you went to.

“Really,” another person adds.

You dust off your legs, seeing matching red on your exposed skin. Dae’s sudden loud voice makes you jump.

“’ere it is!” Dae announces happily. Her hand comes into view, and in it is a coin. Your shoulders sag.

All this for a coin.

“You’re going to spend that on buying me a new pair of shoes,” you huff, removing your heels. It isn’t ideal to walk barefoot, but you don’t feel like hobbling your way around.

“No!” she cries and moves the coin from you quickly. Her movement is too big and quick, and you have to grab her again before she falls backward. You swiftly tug her upright.

“Just stop moving!” you growl and tighten your hold on her to keep her still.

“Wait, is that Yn?” someone says behind you. At the sound of your name, you glance over your shoulder. As if your night can get worse.

Hajun sputters, a smile growing at the sight of you. “Oh my god, it is. No wonder they are so pitiful.”

“Both of them,” Hana giggles.

“Of course, you befriend those similar to you. It’s only right they’re friends.”

Your eyes narrow on them, hand twitching as you fight the urge to chuck your non-broken heel at their faces.

“Isn’t that right?” you scoff. “You’re both pieces of shit and friends. Wow! Truly a match.”

You clasp your hands together, voice going higher as you pretend you’re elated for them.

“Says the whores who are on the floor. It’s where you belong anyway,” Hajun replies, arms crossing over her chest.

“And you know where you belong? Beaten and bruised in the hospital. I can help with that,” you threaten and start to stand up to do just that. However, there is wetness spreading on your lower half accompanied by gagging. You gasp at the sensation and look down to see what happened.

Your night definitely just got worse.

Dae has emptied her stomach and looks like she’s about to do it again. You scramble up and move aside, grabbing her hair to hold it back as you try to block out the sound of her hurling. You hate that you can feel her vomit trailing down your legs now that you are upright on your knees. The thought alone has you almost joining her.

“Oh, this is just perfect,” Hana laughs.

“Where’s my phone? I need a picture,” Hajun says and pats her body in search of the device.

“A picture of what?” a new voice questions. Joshua walks from behind them. Great.

“That,” Hajun replies with a laugh. You quickly glance down, letting your hair fall into your face so he can’t see you. You don’t need more people who know you see your current situation.

“Leave them alone, guys,” Joshua says. You start to panic when you hear footsteps. Though, the person doesn’t get far.

“You’re right, we should just go,” Hajun answers. “Come on.”

There's a shuffling of feet before footsteps occur again, but away from you this time. You sigh internally and turn back to Dae.

“You okay?” you question.

“I-I thwink you’re right. ‘hat was-h the las’bar,” Dae groans, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Let’s get home,” you instruct and grab her hands slowly. You don’t want her to throw up again from moving too fast.

“Where did they go?” another voice asks from afar.

“They said they would wait outside the door.”

Your body tenses at the voice. You are imagining it. Your brain is just choosing the worst time to think of him. It’s all in your head.

“Over here!” Hana calls out.

You steadily stand up with Dae, her arms gripping yours tightly.

“Easy,” you speak calmly. Your gaze drops to your discarded shoes on the floor. You want to pick them up, but you’re afraid of letting go of Dae. Sighing, you decide to leave them.

“’m shorry,” she mumbles as you take a step forward. You want to find a bench you can both rest on as you wait for a ride.

“Ah, they’re over there, let’s go,” the first voice says.

“Just wait a minute. They look like they need help.”

No. No, you don’t need help.

“Where are you going? They’re fine!” Hajun calls out. You turn Dae around and start the other way.

The feet are jogging toward you now. You have no other choice but to prepare to see the last person on your desired visiting list. There’s no way you can transport yourself and Dae away before he reaches you.

“Hey, do you need a han—C-Cherry?” Seungcheol stutters when he comes next to you. You slow in your steps, reluctantly looking up to see him.

“No. We’re fine,” you reply sternly. Despite your answer, Seungcheol puts an arm around Dae to offer more support. You stand your ground and don’t let her go.

“Who-sh ‘erry?” Dae wonders.

“No one,” you tell her and then look at him, “Seungcheol, let her go. I’ve got her.”

“What’s going on?” Joshua’s face suddenly pops up behind Seungcheol. Seungcheol stops walking, and unless you want to play tug-o-war with Dae, you have to stop too.

“Yn?” he asks, shocked. Then his gaze goes behind him. He makes a disappointing noise. “No wonder they wanted us to leave so fast.”

“What are you talking about, Shua?” Seungcheol questions. He still hasn’t let go of Dae.

“Ha—” Joshua starts but stops when Hajun’s voice sounds.

“Oh my, is that Yn? Oh no!”

Hajun appears in front of you. Your first instinct is to punch her; that’s evident in the way your hand fists in a ball at your side.

“Are you okay? Do you need a ride?” she looks at you with a worried expression. Your mouth drops slightly at her unexpected reaction. A few minutes ago she was a devil, but now she is an angel? Since when does she pretend to be nice?

“’uck off,” Dae mumbles. You let out a silent laugh and glance at her. She looks exhausted and dizzy, yet her eyes are on Hajun.

“M-me? But I’m just trying to help.”

“Oh, really? How does taking a picture of us help?” you wonder.

“What picture?” Seungcheol questions.

“I don’t know what she’s talking about,” Hajun answers, looking at him innocently. Your gaze moves to Seungcheol briefly. Did he say something to her, or is she trying a different tactic to get his sympathy?

“Yes, you do,” Joshua says.

“Shua! No, I don’t,” she whines and gives him a sad expression.

You do not have time for her games.

“Can you all just go away? I’m trying to get Dae home,” you sigh.

“Hm, ‘hat’ould be nice,” Dae mumbles.

“You’re right. We’re sorry to be bothering you. Come on, boys. We have another place to be,” Hajun concurs, gesturing to the rest of the group who lingers a few feet away.

“You guys can go without me. I’ll help them get home,” Seungcheol says. You whip your gaze to him, eyes narrowing in hopes it’ll make him leave. Though, your threatening glare has no effect on him.

“I’ll help, too,” Joshua adds.

“W-what? But we need you guys. They’ll be fine,” Hajun pleads.

Seungcheol chuckles dryly. “I doubt you need us to watch a movie.”

“For fuck’s sake, all of you leave now!” you growl, a headache sprouting. Your clothes are damp, your feet are aching, and your patience is gone.

“I’m not leaving,” Seungcheol says.

“Yes, you are. Go away!” you snap and shove at his arm that is on Dae.

“Don’t talk to him like that,” Hajun hisses and pushes you as if to get you back for shoving Seungcheol.

Oh, you are so over this girl.

Knowing Seungcheol is still holding Dae, you slip away from her and take a step toward Hajun. You reach out quickly when she tries to move away.

“Let go, psycho!” Hajun cries, innocent voice gone and back to how it normally is. You grip her arm tighter when she tugs on it.

“Remember what I said? Beaten and bruised in the hospital, bitch,” you snarl, fully preparing to swing a fist at her disgusting face.

Someone suddenly pulls you away, forcing your hand to let go of her.

“You’re such a fucking freak,” Hajun growls.

With all your might, you push away from whoever is holding you. You only have one thought in mind as you accost her again. Needing to act fast, you don’t hesitate to reel your hand back before connecting your palm roughly against her cheek.

Hajun shrieks loudly and places a hand on her face in surprise.

“Yn!” you hear Seungcheol scold but ignore him.

Hajun lunges toward you, but before she can do anything, you’re grabbed and twirled around to face the opposite direction. You stumble forward in their grasp when Hajun bumps into you both, unable to stop her momentum. You figure Seungcheol is the one who stops you, but when you raise your eyes, you see him still holding Dae, who is quickly falling asleep. Your head snaps up to see Joshua behind you.

“If you don’t let go of me, I will claw your eyes out,” you warn him. Joshua’s eyes widen at you before peering at Seungcheol.

“This is what turns you on?” he asks Seungcheol.

“What?” you and Hajun say in unison. Seungcheol glares at Joshua but says nothing of it. If you weren’t so occupied with the situation at hand, you may have let that sink in more.

“Don’t tell me you like her!” Hajun scoffs.

Seungcheol’s jaw clenches as he averts his gaze from Joshua to Hajun. “Go with the others.”

“Are you serious, Cheollie? You can do better than that. She’ll just make your life miserable,” Hajun exasperates.

You glance up at Joshua, battling your eyelashes at him. You change your tone to sound sweeter. “If I say pretty please, will you let me go? I promise to leave one eye in.”

“Charming,” he answers with a small laugh and then flickers his gaze back to Seungcheol. “I see the appeal now.”

“Shua!” Hajun screeches, betrayal in her voice. You send her a smirk and shrug. She looks like she is ready to lunge at you, but Joshua still stands between you two.

“Joshua, can you give me your keys?” Seungcheol asks. Joshua digs out his keys from his pocket with one hand, keeping the other around you in case you decide to escape. He tosses them toward Seungcheol and he catches them with ease. Seungcheol doesn’t say anything else as he picks up Dae in his arms, then walks down the sidewalk.

“Cheol!” Hajun calls out. He pauses to peer back.

“Go with the others, Hajun. I’m not going back,” he replies before continuing his walk. You stare at his back, a little dumbstruck that he’s actually helping you rather than leaving you for his friends.

Joshua releases his hold and begins to follow Seungcheol. He stops when you don't move.

“I’m not dumb enough to leave you together. Let’s go, Yn,” he says and grabs your wrist.

You open your mouth to get the last word, but the look of utter betrayal on Hajun’s face is satisfying enough. Thus, you let Joshua pull you away from her.

When you arrive at Joshua’s car, Seungcheol closes the door after putting Dae inside. She’s passed out now. You place a hand on the handle, ready to climb inside, but Seungcheol stops you.

“Now’s not the time to be chivalrous, Cheollie,” you say, voice a little mocking at the nickname Hajun uses for him.

“You’re not going with him,” he answers firmly.

Seungcheol puts his focus on Joshua and says, “Text me when you get home safely. Thanks for taking care of her.”

“It’s no problem. See you guys!” he replies and gets in the driver’s seat.

“He’s taking Dae to her home? I should go, so I can take care of her,” you explain and take a step toward the car. Seungcheol grabs your upper arm and pulls you away.

“No, he’s taking her to his. She’ll wake up confused, but she’ll be safe. Now, let’s go,” he answers. He lets go of you and walks in the other direction.

“Go where?” you huff, watching Joshua drive off for a few seconds before jogging to catch up. He doesn’t reply. You roll your eyes and keep following him.

A sudden pain in your foot has you gasping, wrapping a hand around it, and looking down to see what you stepped on.

“Stupid rock,” you mumble while glancing down at the damned stone.

“Where are your shoes?” Seungcheol asks, stopping a little ways ahead. You would have thought he’d noticed earlier, but you guess he was more focused on other stuff.

“Ruined,” you shrug and gently put your foot down. You start walking again, limping as you go. It isn’t bleeding, but the area is a little sensitive.

Seungcheol takes a few big steps toward you.

“Didn’t I tell you not to walk barefoot?” he questions before picking you up without warning. Usually, you would whine, but your feet are aching from the rugged terrain so you let him carry you.

“Hm, did you? I guess I didn’t hear,” you answer, snaking an arm around his shoulders.

Seungcheol doesn’t reply, his focus in front of him. Like before, he rests you on his shoes while he opens the door.

“I don’t want to ruin your car,” you say, gesturing to the throw up on your clothes. You’re sure you’ve already ruined his clothes, but you’re nervous about being trapped in a small area with him now.

“I don’t care. Get in,” he replies. You hesitate long enough for Seungcheol to gently nudge you.

“Alright, alright,” you murmur and climb in. Despite your worry about dirtying his expensive car, you can’t stop your body from sinking into his comfortable seats. You’re tired mentally and physically, so it feels nice to finally sit down.

You expect Seungcheol to lecture you about anything and everything, but instead, he remains silent as he drives off. The tense quietness has you shifting in your seat. You look at Seungcheol, noticing the way he is tightening and untightening his grip on the wheel. Due to his short-sleeved shirt, you can see the way his muscles are flexing at the action.

Your gaze trails down his forearms, stopping when you spot the two bracelets you and Seoah made him. Your lips start to curl into a smile at seeing them. Although you had secretly hoped he’d wear them, you weren’t sure if he would. You feel a small sense of pride fill your chest before you remember the predicament you are in.

The grin quickly drops as your eyes go back to his face—jaw clenched and eyes firmly on the road ahead.

“You can’t be mad at me,” you say to break the silence. “She had that coming. You should be rather proud, actually. I’ve been wanting to do that for a long ti—”

“What were you doing out there?” he asks. You stop, eyebrows knitting together at his strange topic change.

“W-what? We were just drinking. Well, Dae was. I was just there to be a good friend,” you answer.

“Where was your ride?”

“I was about to call one,” you say.

His lips dip lower than they already are. “You shouldn’t use those services. They’re dangerous.”

“Oh, right. I’ll call my private chauffeur next time,” you reply sarcastically.

“You can call me,” he says as if it’s the obvious thing to do.

You laugh. “You’re the last person I would call.”

“Why is that?” he questions and looks at you finally. The red light shines an eerily glow on his face.

You shrug and peer away, not wanting to see him so…. disappointed? Mad? Dejected?

“You’re not my friend.”

“I’m not your friend?” he repeats with a scoff. At the green light, he drives again.

You stay silent this time.

“So, I invite you to dinner—twice—”

“Actually, the first wasn’t really a dinner,” you say.

Seungcheol takes a deep breath, and you can tell he’s trying not to get any more frustrated. You bite the inside of your cheek and fiddle with your clothes. He waits to see if you will say anything else before continuing.

“I drive you places. I pay for your food, I let you stay at my place. All because I’m what? A stranger to you?”

“I—Well,” you mumble. You don’t have anything to say to that because it’s true. He did all those things. It’s unlikely a stranger would do that. Maybe some of them once, but not multiple times like he has.

“Hey, wait, this isn’t the way to my house,” you observe outside. The area isn’t familiar to you.

“Hm,” he hums.

“You’re not about to murder me and chop up my body in little bits, right?” you ask, worried.

“No,” he answers. “That’ll take too long. I’d just—”

“Cheol!” you interrupt, not wanting to hear him actually say those words.

“Kidding,” he says.

He takes a long inhale, releasing it after a few seconds. You stay silent for the rest of the car ride. There is a strange part of you that wants him to rest his hand on you like he usually does, but that isn’t appropriate right now. Not to mention, most friends don’t do that.

You recognize the neighborhood as you near his apartment. It’s clear he had set his mind on coming here, so there isn’t a point in demanding he takes you home.

Seungcheol leads you directly to his bedroom with his hand in yours. He drops it once he stands in front of his closet. Watching him silently, he shuffles through his clothes before plucking off an item from its hanger. He quickly moves to his dresser and grabs two more pieces. He brings them to his bathroom, setting them on the counter. You follow him slowly. You hate how quiet he was. It’s unnerving.

“Shower and meet me in the living room,” he instructs. When your mouth opens, he quickly adds, “No arguing.”

“I-I was just going to say okay,” you explain. If it wasn’t for the stench of Dae’s vomit, maybe you would have argued. Though right now, you’re just eager to get out of your clothes.

“Good,” he replies. He leaves the room, shutting the door behind him.

The feel of hot water running down your sore body has you sighing out. Even his water pressure is perfect against your body. You could’ve stayed in there for hours, but you don’t want his water bill to soar, and you don’t want to turn into a wrinkly rat. With both these in mind, you finish hastily.

The clothes he has picked out are a hoodie, boxers, and shorts. You disregard the part of your mind that’s silently freaking out about wearing his clothes.

They are clothes. Just clothes.

It’s not a big deal.

Granted, most things are never a big deal, but you always make them out to be.

You dry your hair as much as you can before silently walking out of his room, seeing him dressed in shorts and a long-sleeved sweater. He must have changed while you were showering. He glances up when he hears the floors creak, eyes dropping down to your exposed skin.

“Are you cold? Should I get you pants?” he asks and starts to stand up. You put out a hand.

“It’s okay,” you say and sit down a good ways away from him. You tuck your legs under you, leaning sideways into his couch so you can look at him.

“You could’ve taken me home,” you say quietly.

“My place was closer,” he says as if that really makes a difference. You hum and cast your eyes on your lap.

“You can go back to your friends if you want. I’m fine now.”

Seungcheol exhales a breath. “What happened before I showed up?”

You play with the hem of the hoodie as you speak.

“Dae got drunk. She fell and took me down with her. Your friends showed up, and said some insulting stuff, as always. Dae threw up. Then you came.” Your answer is short and concise. There’s no reason to go into extreme details. He knows how his friends speak about you. At least how they did speak about you.

His eyes flicker over your body, stopping on your knees with a frown. There are small scratches from when you fell, but they don’t hurt much. They just feel like tiny paper cuts.

“Oh, Shua said he arrived at their place safely. Dae’s sleeping in his room right now,” Seungcheol informs. You nod.

“I’ll have to tell him thanks later,” you reply.

There is silence for a moment.

“Why did you hit Hajun?” Seungcheol asks. He watches you attentively, eyes roaming your face.

You try to stop the scoff from escaping, but you fail. “I think the question you should be asking instead is, ‘Why did you wait so long to do it?’”

Seungcheol purses his lips as he stares at you unamused. You sigh. You aren’t expecting him to bellow a laugh, but you at least hoped for… something less scolding.

“As I said, she wasn’t saying nice things, and she put her hands on me. I was tired of her bullshit. Are you mad at me because of it?” you ask. Even though you expect him to say yes, you hope he says no. You don’t want him to be mad at you. Especially when you feel you are in the right.

Seungcheol runs a hand through his hair, gaze tearing from yours momentarily. You eye the way his hair falls back into place easily. It’s almost mesmerizing to watch.

“I don’t know,” he finally answers.

“I see,” you say and readjust yourself on the couch. You let your legs dangle off the furniture while your back rests against the cushions. It hurts to see he still isn’t completely on your side. Even though you’re the one he left with, you can tell she is still in his mind. Your heart twists painfully at that.

“You should know if I were given the option, I would still do it again,” you further explain. No reason to make yourself seem like someone you’re not. You can call out how fake she was when she acted concerned, but what’s the point? Tear her down to boost you up? He probably already thinks badly of you. Maybe it’s better if he hates you. Easier, even.

You’re not sure what else to say, and he seems to be lost in his own thoughts. You carefully rise to your feet.

“I’ll take the guest bedroom,” you announce. You take four steps before Seungcheol speaks.

“I’m not mad at you.”

You turn to look at him and then answer, “It’s okay if you are. I hit your friend. It’s understandable to be upset with me.”

“I should be,” he starts, “but I’m not.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I know how she treats you.”

Ah, so he is aware.

“That’s nice,” you mumble, unable to hide the sass in your reply.

“I don’t like it.”

You shift your weight. You feel like what he said is a joke.

“Really? Because you seem to have no problem with it.”

��That’s not true,” he argues.

“It’s not? But you always let it happen.”

“I don’t. I can’t control what they say every time. I’m sorry they do that to you, but—”

“You’re not sorry. No, you can’t control their voices, but you can control who you befriend,” you reply.

“I can’t just drop them as friends,” he sighs.

“Why not? You really want to hang out with people who talk nothing but crap about me?” You don’t understand him. Some sentences make it seem like he’s on your side, and some seem like he isn’t. Does he really care about you?

“I’ve known them for a long time. We’re in group projects together. I see them too much to just cut off ties,” he reasons.

You nod. You get it. There is more to lose if he leaves them. Why is he even talking to you in the first place? He isn’t helping with your project and you don’t have history, so there’s no purpose to be around you.

“Then stop talking to me,” you suggest.

“What?” Seungcheol asks, taken aback.

“I can’t be around you when you’re friends with them. They’ve always got shit to say. You befriend people with similar attitudes,” you say, recalling what Hajun and Hana had said earlier. You don’t like them, but they were right about one thing.

“What makes you think I see you any different than them” you add. “Hell, you could be talking shit about me too. Do you all laugh about me in those little study rooms?”

“You really think I would do that to you?” he questions. His lips are set in a frown; he sounds hurt. Seungcheol leans forward to rest his elbows on his bent knees.

“I don’t know. You don’t really stick up for me when they do,” you say.

He sighs loudly, head in his hands, as he takes a few breaths. He’s in the same mental position as when he was in the café—torn between two different groups of friends.

You don’t want him out of your life, despite thinking differently when you first met him, but you don’t know if you can tolerate his friends much longer.

Your words are spoken softly, yet sternly. “When I leave in the morning, I don’t want you contacting me anymore.”

The sentence is similar to what you told him in the café, but this time, you will make sure that truly happens.

Seungcheol’s head pops up as you are turning around. You anticipate for him to call out or to rush to stop you, but none of those things happen. You make it to the spare bedroom and shut the door without Seungcheol’s interference. You hate that is the case. Though maybe it means it’ll be easy to go the next day.

There is a movement to your left, and you jump back in surprise. You turn only to see your reflection in a mirror. Goodness, you are so out of it. Your eyes linger on yourself. Your hair is slightly damp from the shower. Your makeup is mostly gone, but you can still spot a few smudges on your skin you couldn’t get off earlier. You look so different than what you are used to, but that is probably due to the change of attire.

You can’t remember the last time you wore a hoodie—a proper one. Not some fancy one that was more for style than actual comfort. His hoodie is soft inside and smells like a mixture of his detergent and cologne. It’s an interesting combination, but it makes you smile nonetheless. One which you force down when you catch sight of it in the mirror.

Seeing yourself look so ordinary in his home has those unwanting, imaginary thoughts creep in once again. They are dangerous. You know that, but oh, are they so easy to get lost in.

The vision calls this place home, where you can steal as many of Seungcheol’s clothes as you want. He would get onto you each time, but you know he’d secretly like seeing you in them. They would not only be different from your habitual style, but they would also be his.

His clothes on his girl.

Something that only he would see because while you’d enjoy wearing his clothes, you still would refuse to be seen in such casual wear beyond his humble abode.

Your heart yearns for that life.

Though as you turn off the light and climb into the bed, you let that fantasy get eaten by reality.

You’re not sure how long you’re asleep, but you stir when you feel the bed dip with an unknown weight. It moves closer, and you shiver when you feel something cold rest on your bare waist where the hoodie has risen. Then it holds you firmly while something shuffles in the bed closer. You register the weight to be a person’s, and you imagine it is Seungcheol.

The person presses you against their body, tucking your head into their chest as they rest their head on top of yours gently. The hand on your waist trails up your bare back. It rubs your skin softly, making your body sink further into the mattress. You keep your eyes closed, not wanting to wake from this dream your mind has created. If you aren’t able to have Seungcheol in the real world, at least you can have him here.

You don’t realize the tears rolling down your cheeks at first, but then you feel something tenderly swipe against your cheek. At first, you think it’s your own hand, but you don’t recall moving it.

In your dream, Seungcheol coos at you quietly. His hand is still sweeping across your back.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he says, voice so soft that it feels like it’s a few feet away. You inch closer to hear it better.

“You want me to leave you,” he continues.

Goodness, why does he sound so far from you?

Your hands rise to the chest in front of you, hands fisting the person’s shirt. You’re afraid they’ll leave you.

“But haven’t you realized I can’t do that? You were confused when I told you I wouldn’t leave you even if I could,” Seungcheol pauses to take a breath, almost as if he’s pondering on if he’s ready to disclose this information.

“I can’t leave you because I… I like you. More than just an acquaintance, or a friend.”

You clutch the shirt harder, pressing your head deeper into his body. You want to hear this outside your dream so badly.

You squeeze your eyes shut harder.

You wish you could see his face staring at you with his warm eyes. To see his pretty lips stretch into a smile as he tells you everything you want to hear. Things you’re too afraid to ponder because it would make them more real.

“Shh, don’t cry,” he whispers and presses a kiss on the top of your head.

The feelings whirling in your chest are too much to bear. The dream has dug deep in your mind to pull out these pushed-down thoughts. Your mind has outdone itself with its imagination. You need to wake up before you fall harder for the man in your dreams. You ease your grasp on his shirt as if readying yourself to be pulled to reality.

Then reluctantly, your eyes open.

You fully anticipate seeing tear-stained sheets and darkness in front of you, but you just see the scenario your dream mustered. You blink several times to rid the memory. However, nothing works.

Your mouth opens in shock. Your heart was racing already, but now it’s beating so fast you think it’ll burst from your chest.

Seungcheol lies beside you, watching you closely.

“C-Cheol?” you whimper, mind foggy with what’s real and what’s your imagination. “You’re r-real?”

Your body is in fight or flight mode. The moment had felt so vulnerable; it was as though he had invaded your mind. As if he knew your deepest thoughts, and that terrifies you.

He stares down at you, face only half illuminated from the moonlight that creeps in through his blinds. “I’m real, Cherry. I’m right here.”

You both stare at each other. You can’t hear his heart palpitate over the sound of yours, but you can feel the quick rise and fall of his chest against your palms, which are still pressed against his body.

Your eyes flicker down. In the dim light, you can make out two small wet circles on his clothes, indicating that he was really there to hear you cry. The dream was not a dream. You feel embarrassed at having cried in front of him.

Then it all comes flooding back clearly. His words. His caressing. His tender tone. You wanted nothing more than to hear him say he wanted you. Because no matter how hard you tried to burn those thoughts from your mind, they always flickered back to life.

You don’t know when it happened.

You’re staring at him with puffy eyes one second and then have his mouth pressing against yours the next.

There is no gentle brushing of the lips this time. You’ve had enough of being interrupted. You need to feel him against you. You need his touch in the ways you’ve dreamt of before. From the way Seungcheol grips you tightly and kisses you fervently, you have a feeling he thinks the same.

The taste of his lips has you dizzy. When he glides his tongue against your lip, you unhesitantly grant him access. Despite the quick start of the kiss, he slows his movements when his tongue meets yours.

Your hands reach up to run through his locks while Seungcheol flips on his back, pulling you on top of him. His hair feels soft as it glides between your fingers, and when you run out of hair to grab, you tug on the ends.

Seungcheol moans into the kiss, hands moving to your ass and squeezing. It has your hips pressing against his body, and you whine when your clothed clit brushes him.

You pull away with a gasp. Your hands go to rest on either side of his head. Some of your hair falls into your face, and Seungcheol is quick to tuck the strands behind your ears. You don’t need to hear him say he wants to see your face. That’s evident in the way his eyes never leave yours. You take in his swollen lips and tousled hair—all because of you.

That’s all you think of as you dive back down again, tongue finding his easily and gliding together smoothly. He’s finally yours, at least for now.

Seungcheol keeps one hand on your ass while the other trails up your body. It slides under the hoodie and grips one of your bare breasts.

You mewl at the touch, arching your back into his large hand. He massages the flesh gently for a second before he moves the hand on your ass to do the same to your other breast. Your body is warming rapidly. Your heart never calms with each new feel of him.

When you pull away to catch your breath the second time, you sit up and pull the hoodie from your body. Seungcheol rests his hands on your lower back. He watches silently in awe, feeling your back arch as your naked body is exposed to him.

“So fucking pretty,” he murmurs, quickly propping his body up with one hand to get closer. The other reaches up to the back of your neck to pull you down to him. You hum against his lips as you straddle him, hands playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. Your arousal is pooling in your panties, and you need to do something to relieve some of your need.

Seungcheol groans, hands immediately going to your hips when you start grinding against his crotch. You hold onto him tightly, using him as leverage as you rub your clit against him. He pulls away from the heated kiss to remove his shirt. As he tosses the material somewhere in the room, your hands quickly press against his taunt torso. The force at which you do so has him falling back onto the mattress unexpectedly, his hair fanning around his head. He laughs, eyes turning into half-moons and dimples coming out to greet you—making your body warm for another reason.

“S-sorry,” you giggle, hands still on his chest as you lean over him.

You can’t see him clearly, but the weak light cast causes a portion of his muscles to be outlined. Although you’ve gotten some hints about his build when he wore specific clothes, they don’t do justice to how fit he is.

“Are you going to give me another compliment, baby?” Seungcheol teases when you continue to stare; his voice is lower than before. It isn’t as deep as when he first wakes up, but the sound still goes straight to your core.

You squeeze your legs around his body, and he smiles at your reaction, grabbing your wrists. He guides your hands down his torso, forcing you to sit up gradually. You hold your breath as your gaze follows your hands south. You feel his toned body under your hands. Even though he doesn’t have a slender body, he is buff and muscular, and you find that much sexier.

“I don’t need your ego any bigger than it already is,” you protest.

Seungcheol stops guiding your hands when you reach the waistband of his shorts. He lets go of your wrists and moves his hands to rest on the top of your thighs.

“But I gave you one earlier,” he pouts. Full on pouting like he is a toddler who is getting denied candy. You curse him silently for looking so cute when he does that.

You huff with false irritation, folding quickly. “Fine. You look handsome.”

Instead of smiling, he keeps the same expression. He doesn’t say anything, and you roll your eyes at what he wants.

“And hot,” you continue. This gets his pout to ease slightly. He’s annoying, so you play with the strings of his shorts. It has his face contorting in surprise. Though once he realizes you’re just trying to get out of giving him more compliments, he pouts again. What a big baby… A big baby who you can’t help but fall for more despite his needy childish behavior at the moment.

“And sexy,” you murmur, curling your fingers over the top of his shorts and underwear.

Slowly, you begin to slide both pieces of clothing down. “And alluring.”

“Alluring?” Seungcheol asks quietly, trying to keep his gaze on your face, but it keeps going back to your hands. “T-that’s new.”

You hum, biting the inside of your cheek when your eyes catch sight of his hard length. The wetness between your legs grows while you slide his clothes off.

“N-nothing about my personality?” he teases softly. Once the material is on the floor, you look at his face. He looks like he’s trying to keep his thoughts coherent.

You smile sweetly at him, a hand trailing up his thick thigh. “How could I forget, hm? You’re beyond obnoxious.”

Before he can reply, your thumb is spreading his pre cum across his tip. Your hand then wraps around the base of his dick. Seungcheol curses under his breath as his eyes widen slightly.

“You’re so annoying,” he gruffs.

“One of my many talents,” you reply teasingly and then lean down.

You kiss his tip gently, eyes flickering up to see his face. His jaw clenches when your tongue licks from the base to his tip gradually. You repeat this action, forcing the smile from your lips with each sharp inhale Seungcheol takes.

His head pushes back on the pillow when you take him in your mouth, lowering yourself until his tip barely touches the back of your throat. Each bob of your head has his cock hardening more. He’s thick, and from the way your mouth stretches around his shaft and from how your hand can’t close all the way, you can’t stop the aching between your legs.

“Shit, Yn,” he breathes out, hand coming up to press down on your head. A louder moan sounds from him when his tip hits the back of your throat for a second. You gag at the sensation and pull away, pumping his length as you take a short breather.

“You’re doing so well, baby,” he praises, voice gentle and caring. His hand reaches down to swipe at the spit covering the corner of your lips. “You think you can do that one more time?”

Nodding, you lower yourself again. You start moving your head up and down on his cock, but eventually, Seungcheol starts thrusting his hips up shallowly. You hollow your cheeks and hum around him, earning you a moan from above at the vibration.

This time when he hits the back of your throat, you stay still. The hand at the base of his dick moves, and you hold his hips instead. Seungcheol draws out another curse when his dick goes farther down your throat. Your nose brushes his pelvis, but he pulls you off before you go all the way down.

Both of you are breathing heavily. Seungcheol’s eyes watch as a string of saliva connects you to his cock. His hand comes up again, breaking the connection as he smears the spit across your cheek. It feels utterly dirty what he does, but your thighs press together at the action.

“Come ‘ere,” he murmurs and guides your body up to his.

He kisses you passionately and holds you close as he slowly flips you over. His lips are still on yours when your back rests on the mattress. The kiss lasts a few more seconds before he breaks it off to trail kisses down your neck. Your eyes close as you angle your chin to give him better access.

While Seungcheol kisses your neck, his hands roam your body. Eventually, one of his hands finds your clit, and you jolt when he starts rubbing circles. Seungcheol nips and licks at your skin, causing you to moan out when he bites a little harder. His hand trails from your bud to your core. He groans quietly against your skin while feeling your damp panties. He rubs you through the material, which has you squirming under his touch. You need to feel him directly—not over your stupid underwear.

“Cheol, take them off,” you whine and move his hands to the top of the material. He adheres to your demand and swiftly pulls the boxers off.

Seungcheol’s mouth opens slightly at the sight of your drenched folds. The coldness of the room has you shivering. Before you can say something, he lowers his head while grabbing your ass and lifting your hips. Once you are close enough, he licks up your slickened lips.

A gasp leaves your mouth at the feeling of his warm tongue against you. He laps at your juices a few times before flicking his tongue against your clit. Your eyes are stuck on him between your legs, completely enraptured at the sight. Quiet gasps leave your mouth as he sucks your bud. He hums happily at your sounds, and then he trails his tongue up your slit, the tip of his tongue prodding your entrance for a second, earning a cry when he simply goes past it.

Seungcheol climbs over you before he can touch your clit. He finds your mouth quickly, forcing his tongue inside. He’s gathered some of your arousal in his mouth, and from his quick actions, he accidentally gets some on the outside of your mouth. However, the grin against your lips tells you it probably wasn’t an accident. You are beginning to realize Seungcheol likes it messy.

One of his hand's toys with your clit again. The sensation doesn’t last long because he moves south. He slides his fingers between your folds a few times, coating them with your wetness, before slipping one inside. There’s no friction since you’re dripping with how aroused you are. You moan into the kiss, and Seungcheol’s smile grows.

He pumps his finger several times and then pushes in another. The slight stretch has you reaching up to grip his sides. He breaks the kiss, eyes staring down into yours as he continues sliding his fingers in and out.

You whimper when he inserts a third, your nails digging into his sides while holding eye contact.

“You’re going to feel so good around me,” Seungcheol thinks out loud.

You moan at his words, thinking back to how big he is. The stretch you’re feeling is only an introduction to what’s to come.

Seungcheol leans back so he can get a better view of your pussy. He aligns his fingers horizontally as he pulls out slowly, causing you to stretch more around his digits. As soon as he slips out, he spreads your folds to see your entrance. Seungcheol gathers some of his spit in his mouth before letting it drop onto your cunt. Then without warning, he rubs your pussy—starting slow but soon speeding up.

“Ah, s-shit,” you cry, hands fisting in the sheets. Your legs move to close, but he presses his other hand down on one to keep you spread.

“You’re making such a mess, baby,” he coos. You can feel a few drops of your arousal mixed with his spit land on the inside of your thighs from his bruising touch.

Just when you are about to plead for him to stop, he pulls away. His eyes are glued to your dripping cunt.

You’ve never felt as needy as you do now. Your eyes fall to his cock, erect and ready to be used. You swallow harshly and reach out greedily. Seungcheol takes your hand, kissing the back of it softly. His eyes are blown out, his hair tangled, and his chest heaving slightly.

He climbs from the bed, and when he gestures for you to come closer, you obey quickly. Seungcheol picks you up, making your legs wrap around his waist as he walks to his bedroom.

You lean down to kiss his neck, but that doesn’t last long, and you feel yourself falling back onto his mattress.

While the rest of the lights in the apartment are off, his side table’s lights are on. You take the opportunity to eye his figure again. His broad chest and muscular thighs have you squeezing around nothing. There’s a part of you that just wants to caress his body all night long; however, the ache between your legs tells you to do that another time.

“Don’t cry,” he says softly when you whine as he moves away from you. “Just gonna’ grab a condom.”

You nod, less sad at knowing what he’s doing. You move farther up his bed as he gets the packet. After securing the condom, he climbs over you.

He presses his lips against yours again, hands trailing all over your body. You let your hands do the same against his skin. It feels so nice to just feel him like you want. Each passing second has you eager for him. You put your hands on his hips and push them toward yours.

“Please, Cheol,” you beg quietly against his mouth.

“I’m really a good influence on you, hm, Cherry?” he playfully replies, lowering his hips until you feel his cock brush your pelvis. You press your body up and move your hips so your clit rubs against his length.

“B-be quiet,” you huff.

“I don’t think you want that,” he says. He grips his cock and rubs it along your folds to coat it in your arousal.

Your arms wrap around his neck, hips bucking.

“Do you want me?” he asks. His eyes bore into yours, the tip of his cock at your entrance.

You nod. “Yes.”

“And what do we say when we want something?” he questions. You roll your hips greedily, but he moves his dick to keep you unsatisfied.

You whine and lean your head back. “Stop playing games, Cheol.”

“That doesn’t sound right,” he tuts calmly.

You know he isn’t going to do anything unless you say what he wants. Whining again because you’re really annoyed with him, you pout. “Please.”

“Hm, close. What do pretty girls like you say when you want something?” he rephrases.

This arrogant man.

“Pretty please,” you concede.

Seungcheol smiles wickedly above you. He presses the tip against your entrance again but doesn’t fully push in. He gives just enough pressure to make you feel a slight stretch.

“That’s exactly correct,” he murmurs and finally slides inside slowly. “My pretty girl.”

A moan erupts in your throat at the feeling of his cock. You don’t know when you closed your eyes, but they open quickly when you realize you can’t see Seungcheol.

His brows are slightly touching, mouth open in concentration.

“T-tell me if you want me to stop at any time,” he instructs as he suppresses a groan.

“Okay,” you mutter. “Keep going. Please,” you beg when he pauses.

He nods and lowers his hips more, pushing more of himself between your walls. A curse falls from your lips when he goes deeper. He continues gradually until he is flushed against you.

Seungcheol rests his forehead on yours as he lets you adjust to his size. You feel so full.

“You doing okay?” he wonders.

You giggle, hand moving to rest on his cheek. “Yes. You feel so good.”

He tilts his chin so he can press a quick kiss to your parted lips.

“A compliment and I didn’t even have to ask,” he gloats and continues before you can reply, “Do you want to keep going?” he asks softly.

“Y-yeah,” you stutter, the need for him to keep going overpowering the need to sass him.

Seungcheol smiles down at you for a second before dragging his hips back, then forward again. He repeats those actions, each time getting a little harder. It has your body jolting up the mattress, but you don’t care. You just need him to continue.

“Doing so well, baby,” he whispers.

“You can go f-faster,” you say. Your hands trail down his torso until they rest on his sides.

“You sure?”

You nod, leaning up to press a reassuring kiss to his mouth. Seungcheol’s eyes are staring down at your chest but quickly snap up at the feel of your lips. He chases your lips after you pull away, slotting his mouth on yours once more. He slips his tongue in your mouth, and you welcome him happily.

Suddenly, Seungcheol’s thrusts speed up.

You pull away from the kiss with a small cry, hands gripping his sides tightly.

“Fuck,” you rasp.

Seungcheol sits up, moving one of your legs to rest against his front while the other lays upon his thigh. He places his hands on your thighs and then snaps his hips into yours rapidly. His eyes are locked onto where he slides into you, watching the way your pussy stretches for his cock.

Your hands move up to rub your breasts, back arching off the mattress when you twist your nipples between your fingers. Your eyes are half open with your lips parted. The feel of his thick cock dragging against your walls, combined with the pinch of your nipples, has you moaning nonstop.

“Shit, baby, you look so sexy like that,” Seungcheol growls, eyes watching your hands intensely.

The compliment has you mewling and clenching around his dick.

“You like looking sexy for me, hm?” he asks, subduing his moan.

You mumble a “yes,” hands pushing your breasts together to give him more of a show.

Seungcheol chuckles softly, lips spreading in a big grin, and slows down his hips. He’s breathing heavily, but he doesn’t stop. Your hands move from your breasts to grip the sheets.

“I would love to have you naked in my bed every day so I could admire you,” he continues. The word “admire” has your heart beating a little faster and a smile on your face. Seungcheol’s own lips tilt up in a grin at your reaction. He turns his head, giving your leg a tender kiss.

Seungcheol glides his cock out of your pussy slowly, and then when just the tip remains, he slams back in roughly. Your breath gets caught in your throat at the power of his hips, walls squeezing around him for a moment. He groans at the feeling.

Seungcheol’s eyes trail from your face to your breasts. They move each time he pushes his length back inside, and it has him gripping your thighs harder. Your skin starts to sting under his touch, but the pleasure between your legs outweighs the pain.

As if reading your thoughts, he eases his grip and carefully moves the leg against his chest to the side so you are spread wide for him. He leans over you, gradually lowering himself so his body is fully on yours. There’s enough pressure to feel his skin flushed on yours but not enough to suffocate you. He moves his hips slowly now. They are shallow thrusts, but he still feels heavenly.

“You sound pretty when you sing for me,” he murmurs, head tucking into the crook of your neck.

Your arms readjust so they enclose around his shoulders. You also wrap your legs around his lower back to keep him close, holding him tightly as you get lost in the way he presses you into the mattress with his body. Your heart clutches at how intimate you feel with him. This type of gentleness is so different from what you experience with him. It’s nice. You wish you can feel it again in the future.

Giggling at his compliment, “T-that’s cheesy, babe.”

You feel him grin against your neck.

“It’s the truth. I love hearing you,” he replies against your skin. It tickles, causing you to squirm beneath him, but you don’t move much since you’re pinned under him.

“I’m close, Cheol,” you whisper into his damp hair. He nods to let you know he heard you. He stays against you for a few more seconds, and you hold him gingerly as he continues rutting into you. You store the memory of his loving embrace in your mind for safekeeping.

Seungcheol slowly leans up. He plants a soothing kiss on your lips before adjusting himself for better leverage. His shallow thrusts steadily get deeper, and his pace increases in speed until he is nearly pounding into you. One of his hands moves to rub tight circles against your clit. A string of moans leaves your mouth as he pushes you closer to your release.

Seungcheol moans when your cunt squeezes his cock.

“God, you’re going to be the death of me,” he husks.

Even though you don’t say anything, your body is conveying how close you are. Seungcheol’s quick pace grows a little frantic, a little desperate as a hand still plays with your bud.

His name leaves your lips when you come, legs shaking slightly as your orgasm courses through you. Seungcheol slows his thrusts as he eases you from your high.

“That’s it, baby girl,” he praises quietly as your body starts relaxing on the mattress. Gently, he pulls out and removes the condom.

When your eyes refocus, you see Seungcheol sitting up on his knees, a hand pumping his shaft. Even though tiredness is taking over your body, you move so you are in front of him on your hands and knees. You remove his hand and replace it with yours.

He watches silently, mouth falling open when you wrap your lips around him again. Hollowing your cheeks, you bob your head quickly while your eyes watch him above. He rakes a hand through his slightly wet hair before bringing that hand down on your head. He slides your hair from your face, then begins to move his hips.

The sound of you taking him in your mouth fills the room. Seungcheol whines, pushing your head farther and letting out a moan when he hears you gag. He pulls you off him, and you gasp for air once you can.

“Almost there,” he informs you before lining himself at your lips again. You nod, making Seungcheol smile as he pushes his dick between your lips.

You breathe through your nose as he fucks into your mouth. Tears start forming at the corner of your eyes when he hits the back of your throat continuously. Seeing his blissful expression has a sense of pride blooming in your chest. It feels good knowing you are bringing him so much pleasure.

“Fuck,” he gasps and pulls away suddenly. You cough when you inhale too quickly. Seungcheol’s head leans back as he slides his hand up and down quickly on his cock. He waits until you’re better before he brings his tip to your lips. You open your mouth, ready for him to use your throat again, but instead, he keeps his dick resting against your parted mouth. Understanding his plan, you stick your tongue out. His eyes stare down at yours. He looks so sexy with a sheen of sweat covering his skin. His forehead is exposed, and his face is scrunched in concentration.

Your name leaves his mouth as a curse when he comes. You moan quietly, eyes closing when you feel his cum land on your face and tongue in spurts. Seungcheol is panting above you, and as you open your eyes again, you see he never tore his gaze from your face.

You go to close your mouth when he’s done, but he stops you—hand cupping your jaw and fingers digging slightly into your cheeks to keep your mouth open. The fierce gaze he wears is one of authority, and fuck, does that have you squeezing your legs together more.

Slowly his cum trails down your tongue, dangling from the tip before it falls onto the bed’s cover. The urge to close your mouth is strong. Even though Seungcheol is holding your mouth open, his grip isn’t strong enough to really stop you if you want to close it. However, you want to please him, so you push down the feeling and stare at his face.

His eyes follow his cum gliding off your tongue, biting his lip at the sight. Goodness, he’s just breathing, but he looks so attractive.

You force down the moan you want to make at knowing Seungcheol gets off on being messy. You want him to make a mess out of you more.

“My good girl,” he whispers. He gathers the cum that landed on your face and moves it on your tongue. He releases the grip to let you close your mouth, staying silent as he watches you swallow the substance.

He leans down and gives you a lasting kiss for a reward before climbing off the bed. He leaves to grab a warm washcloth to clean off the residue on your face. The affectionate smile he dons is contagious, and you stare up at him contently as he cleans you carefully. Once he is done and the towel is discarded, he comes back.

“Move up, Cherry,” he instructs gently as he nods to the other end of the bed. You follow his order quietly. In one hard tug, he pulls the cover from the bed. He dumps it in the corner of the room and then grabs another from his closet.

“Now, lay down,” he says. Once you are in position, he flicks his wrists to open the cover in the air, letting it float down onto your body.

You giggle. “You could’ve just unfolded it first.”

“But wasn’t that more fun?” he replies with a grin.

He climbs in next to you after switching off the lights, hands finding your body quickly. He lays on his back, one arm wrapping around your shoulders while the other rests on his chest. You press your body against his side and bring a hand up to his chest, intertwining your hands together. You watch as he shakes your hands together playfully.

“I think I had more fun earlier,” you belatedly reply.

Seungcheol chuckles. “Is that so? Did I fuck you that good, Cherry?”

You squeeze his hand at his words, not sure why his question has you suddenly feeling shy. Maybe it’s because you’re still feeling a little in the clouds, and your normal bratty self hasn't yet reemerged.

“I had fun too,” he adds when you don’t reply. “I would do it again.”

“Yeah?” you wonder, hopeful eyes glancing up at him. It’s definitely something you won’t oppose if the opportunity arises in the future, and you are happy to know he feels the same.

“Yeah,” he echoes.

A grin spreads on his face upon seeing your expression. He leans down, giving you one last kiss as if promising to keep his word. The act has you wanting to kick your feet as you giggle, but you suppress the desire to do that.

Instead, you snuggle against him more as you let your body begin to melt into his. Comfortable silence fills his room, and you can feel sleep consuming you slowly.

“Sleep well, baby,” Seungcheol says quietly and unravels his hand from yours to move your hair from your face. You peer up at him, smiling.

“Goodnight, Cheol.”

previous chapter \\ series masterpost // next chapter

A/N: ... 😳

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skzhocomments · 3 months

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In the Dark - Choi Minho SHINee Fanfic - Chapter 1 - inthedark.com

Story masterlist - please consult it for the summary of the story, trigger warnings etc.

Wattpad | AO3

Chapter 2

---

Chapter 1 - inthedark.com

chapter word count: 2.7k words

“So, tough week, huh?” Jinki spoke compassionately, watching his best friend drink his 3rd beer in a single sip and place the cup firmly on the table, then sigh.

“You bet.” Minho replied, dejected, signalling to the waitress to bring him another beer.

“Yah, should a single dad even drink so much? What will Nari say when you come home drunk?” Jinki frowned.

“She’s with my mother tonight.” He sighed, then started drinking his 4th beer, before Jinki grabbed it from him and finished it himself.

“Instead of drinking it away, spill it out. What happened?”

“I just found out Nari’s been getting bullied at school, and I’m feeling horrible for not being able to protect her.”

“Bullied?” Jinki’s eyes grew large, as he asked his friend to elaborate.

“She didn’t even tell me. How the fuck are 2nd graders so mean already?” Minho sighed again and shook his head disapprovingly.

“No way. Since when?”

“Apparently since the first year. Her teacher didn’t tell me anything either. I thought enrolling her in a private school would be a good idea. Better education, more people around her to keep her safe… I was wrong.” He shook his head again and rubbed his forehead.

“So… what will you do? Will you move her to another school?” Jinki asked, putting his arms on the table and supporting his head with his hands.

“Of course I’ll move her to another school. I just don’t know where…”

“Hmm. Why don’t you try the public school in the area? My cousin’s son is enrolled there, and he loves it so far. He’s in the 5th grade already. It’s also closer to home.”

“I don’t know… what if she hates it there? What if she gets bullied again and doesn’t tell me? God, I kept noticing she was becoming shy and reserved, and couldn’t figure out why, and all this time, she’s been bullied by her classmates. I still can’t believe it.”

“Kids can be cruel.” Jinki sighed and leaned over the table, touching Minho’s shoulder comfortingly.

“It’s hard being a single dad to a daughter. Obviously, my mom helps out a lot, but… it would’ve just been different if she were still here…”

“I know. But Ellie died 8 years ago, Minho. Maybe it’s time… you try and let her go and find someone else.”

“How could I?” He sighed. “I still love her so much. She’s still Nari’s mom.”

“Of course she is, and that’s never going to change. But still, you should try putting yourself out there, and find someone. Date, have casual sex, literally anything at this point.”

“Casual sex?” Minho chuckled. “It shocks me to hear you suggest that.”

“What are you supposed to do then, die alone?” Jinki scolded him. “Nari also needs a feminine figure around her. She’ll grow up to be a woman, eventually.”

“She has my mom.”

“A younger feminine figure.”

“I’m not ready to date anyone.” Minho shook his head.

“You’re impossible.” Jinki scoffed. “Then go to a whore house or something, have sex with someone no strings attached and see if it helps you move on for once.”

“What, to a brothel?” Minho asked, amused. “Imagine the headlines if I would. Producer Choi Minho seen entering a brothel. They’d eat me alive.”

“Use that new site, then. In the Dark.” Jinki shrugged.

“What’s that?” Minho tilted his head to the right, furrowing his brows.

“This… website,” he gestured around with his hands. “Apparently it costs a lot because it’s really private. You submit some personal information and choose someone based on your preferences, and when you meet up with them, you aren’t allowed to talk, and the lights are completely off, so neither can see what’s going on or who they’re having sex with.”

“That sounds crazy as fuck.”

“Right? That’s what I said! But it’s a pretty good alternative when there’s no risk of others seeing you enter a brothel.” Jinki chuckled.

“And you can’t even talk?”

“No, because someone could recognise your voice, I think.”

“How do you know so much about this site?” Minho raised an accusing eyebrow.

“Oh, my friends use it all the time. Apparently, it’s a fun experience.”

“What?” Minho gasped. “Who would use such a site?”

~Minho’s POV~

“Who would use such a site?” I asked, but curiosity got the better of me, and I found myself googling inthedark.com at 12AM that very same day.

The site was easy to use and intuitive, you had to pay a fee to become a member, and all your data had to be verified by someone.

It was, as Jinki said, extremely private, and you had to submit a whole lot of documents, from ID card to medical records on your health. Everyone’s profile was verified, and they seemed to protect both their clients and their workers.

I created a profile and chose a username. Since it had to be something completely unrelated to my real name, to not give myself away, I picked Charisma, one of the nicknames my closest friends would sometimes use for me.

After my profile’s been completed and verified, I received a download link for my phone, and as soon as I opened it, my profile was already connected. A list of models with similar interests came up, and I had to select one. They had pictures of themselves, but their faces were not visible in any of them, to keep everyone’s identities private.

I scrolled, and scrolled, and scrolled, and while everyone was gorgeous, wearing sultry lingerie, being fit with a flat stomach and perfect thighs, it still felt like no one was really… special in any way. None of them pricked my interest.

It was then when I noticed that a bit under the Recommended Models list, there was a category called “NEW”, written in bright red letters. I clicked on it, and the first model’s name caught my eye.

Flame

I chuckled seeing her name and thought of how ironic it would be to pick her, since my full nickname was Flaming Charisma. It felt like we complemented each other, even if it was obviously nothing intentional, as I didn’t know who she was, and she didn’t know who I was either.

I clicked on her profile and scrolled through her pictures, that looked to be selfies, instead of the professional-looking pictures the other models under “Recommended” had. Her calendar was also empty, which meant she hasn’t been booked by anyone yet.

Should I do it?

I was reluctant to press on ‘Apply’. We both had to submit a list of expectations and wants, and we both had to agree to the other’s terms and conditions for a potential meeting to happen.

After considering it for a little while, I decided that fuck it, I haven’t had sex with someone in 8 years, so I booked the next night impulsively and started filling the form.

---

CHARISMA – personal form

THINGS I ENJOY: intimacy, scratching my back, holding onto me, kissing/biting (anywhere besides lips), moaning

THINGS I DON’T WANT TO DO: kissing on the lips

CONDOM / NO CONDOM (if you pick the NO CONDOM option, you have to attach a report of a recent medical check-up that ensures you don’t have an STD): no condom

SPECIAL REQUIREMENTS: wear a short skirt

---

After filling in the whole form, I clicked on ‘APPLY’ and waited for a bit.

Flame’s form came back pretty quickly. She accepted all my requests, and she also submitted a few of her own.

---

FLAME – personal form

THINGS I ENJOY: feeling needed, tenderness, aftercare

THINGS I DON’T WANT TO DO: anal, anything that would leave a mark on my face/arms, anything painful

CONDOM / NO CONDOM: no condom

SPECIAL REQUIREMENTS: please take a shower beforehand

---

Reading carefully, her demands seemed decent enough, so I agreed to her terms as well, and I received a location I had to come to the next day at 12 AM.

From the outside, the building looked like an apartment complex. I made my way to the front door and typed in the code I’ve been given, then went to the 3rd floor, to the room number that’s been assigned to me. I opened the door which led to a small hallway that was lit by dim lights, which offered access to two other doors. The first door was a bathroom, the second one was the door to the main room, which I found out from the note on it that read: “As soon as you open this door, all the lights will go out. Please make sure you use the bathroom (door on the left) before you head into the main room. Please leave all your electronic devices and any source of light in the locker room. Refusal to do so is a violation of our terms and services and will result in legal consequences. We appreciate your cooperation in order to ensure privacy on both sides. Thank you for using inthedark.com!”

I already took a shower at home, so it felt pointless to take another one now. I put my phone on silent mode and left it in the locker as instructed, and without thinking much, I opened the door to the main room.

Just as the note said, all the lights went out as soon as I pressed on the handle. It was pitch black and simply impossible to see anything.

Now what? I asked myself and let out a soft chuckle.

I kept walking straight, until a sweet scent invaded my nostrils, and I figured out that Flame must’ve been in the room as well. After a few more steps, my chest bumped into something – her hands, I figured out after touching them.

To say I was nervous would be an understatement.

What am I even supposed to do? Undress her and simply start fucking her? Is she even wearing any clothes?

I did tell her to wear a short skirt.

It was so dark, I couldn’t see anything, and the only sounds in the room were the sounds of our breathing.

I grabbed her hands and followed their trail until I got to her shoulders, and I felt her skin get goose bumps. I let my fingers trail down her body and tried to feel her around, to imagine what the clothes she was wearing could look like. Her blouse was made of a soft fabric and had ruffles, and her skirt was, as I requested, short, barely covering her ass. I went on my knees and touched the back of her thighs, trailing my hands down once again, until I reached her feet.

She was wearing high heels, which I helped take off. I wanted to know her real height.

After I stood back up, I hugged her, and she hugged me back. She wasn’t tall, and her constitution seemed quite fragile. She seemed like a delicate woman.

We broke our hug, and I pressed my hands on her face, feeling up all her features with my thumbs. Her eyes, her nose, her full lips.

She welcomed everything I did and didn’t try to push me away at all, and she even did the same things to me as she started undressing me of my suit.

We were getting to know each other this way; from small, unsure, touches that felt a bit too intimate for me to just seek pleasure from her, and for her to just seek my money.

It was getting too easy to forget that I’ve essentially hired her for the night, that we’re only going to spend 2 hours together.

Maybe it was just because I haven’t been intimate with someone in so long. Ever since my wife’s death, I haven’t touched any other woman. Instead, I just focused on raising our daughter.

Feeling Flame’s touches, though, I realised I missed intimacy badly. I liked the way her hands felt on my abs, her lips attached to my neck while she kept moving that damn hand lower, touching my dick through the underwear.

I liked that she respected my wished and didn’t try kissing my lips at all. That was the one thing I wanted to save for my late wife, the one thing I wasn’t yet ready to do. I convinced myself that sex was different, and the only honest part of me are my lips, and I didn’t want them to touch someone I didn’t love.

Flame went on her knees and pulled my underwear down, taking my dick into her mouth, and I let out an obscene groan. Her tongue on me felt way too good; the way it swirled circles around my tip while her hand was stroking me made my knees weak. I grabbed the back of her head and gently pushed my length down her throat, making her choke a bit. With my other hand, I caressed her cheek and gently touched her chin, wiping off the spit falling uncontrollably from her mouth as she was deepthroating me.

After a few more seconds, I pushed her head away and helped her stand up, before undressing her of the ruffled blouse and short skirt.

I wondered what colour they were. Not that it mattered.

She grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the bed in the middle of the room, and I pressed my naked body against hers, trailing kisses down her body as I let my hands feel her up. She smelled so good, I felt intoxicated by her scent, and I lost control of myself while exploring her body. Her tits were not too big, but they were full and felt perfect in my hands.

I moved my hands to her waist as I pressed a kiss on her lower abdomen. She opened her legs, giving me access to her pussy, and I started eating her out, keeping her body in place as my tongue moved carefully between her folds.

She moaned, and God, she sounded beautiful.

It didn’t take long to make her come. She was a panting mess and her hands found mine on her waist, squeezing them as she let go.

Smiling to myself realising I still got it, even after all these years, I made my way back on top of her and slid inside her with ease. Her hands went around my neck, and she pulled me closer, hugging me tight to her body as I pumped in and out of her.

Her nails were slightly scratching me while she wrapped around me completely, and the whole act felt so intimate, I almost forgot again that she was just a prostitute, and that I was essentially just a stranger to her; no one special.

I released myself inside of her with ease, drunk on all the pleasure her body offered me. What a messed-up thing this was, hiring someone for a couple of hours of love.

I tried not to think of it too much as I slipped out of her and she pulled me closer once more, and I remembered her requests. Feeling needed, tenderness, aftercare. Was she as lonely as me, to request these things?

Since she indulged me, why not do it for her as well? We only had one hour left, anyway. I plopped down next to her and guided her head on my shoulder, caressing her hair while our bodies hugged each other.

It felt nice staying like this, too. It almost made me wish I booked her for the whole night. Maybe we would’ve gone to sleep together embraced and pretended we were actual lovers that spent their first night together.

Maybe this was just wishful thinking.

A few hours after meeting Flame, I received a notification from In the Dark consisting of a review form I had to submit, that would be received by Flame. From the message on the app, she would apparently receive it, and send one back.

---

MEETING REVIEW FORM by Charisma

Rate Flame from 1 to 5 (lowest to highest): ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Were all your special requirements fulfilled? (Leave empty if not applicable): Yes, Flame respected all my wishes and special requirements.

What did you enjoy? Flame was sweet and I had a great time with her :)

What should be improved? Nothing, everything was perfect.

Would you like to tip Flame? (Any amount you write will automatically be deducted from your Card after submitting this form. Leave empty if you don’t wish to tip your host): 200$

Thank you for using our service!

---

MEETING REVIEW FORM by Flame

Rate the interaction with the customer from 1 to 5 (lowest to highest): ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Did the customer fulfil your special requirements? Yes, thank you for respecting my wishes

Tip received – 200$: That’s very sweet and generous of you. Thank you a lot, Charisma. I had a great time with you as well, and I hope we will meet again. ❤️

Chapter 2

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butterflyrry · 1 year

Note

As far as stunts and promotion goes, I think the Azoffs have very old school tactics that are, in my opinion, cheap, outdated, and lazy. So I’m not that optimistic that it will change.

What do you mean ? What are those tactics and what do you have better in mind?

Before I answer this, my disclaimer is that I’m nothing more than a fan with lots of opinions. I’m no PR expert.

What I mean is that Father Azoff has some very specific ideas about celebrities that I can only assume he’s passed on to Azoff Jr because it seems like that’s how Harry is marketed. Those ideas are that celebrities should be these untouchable gods that you worship because they have a lifestyle that is completely unattainable to a regular person. That may have been true before the dawn of social media but in my opinion, it isn’t now. I think a lot of people are drawn to the human side of celebrities and social media provides a way for fans to connect with their faves.

I also think they’ve leaned into and relied too heavily on his public (fuck boy) image and love life to promote him. They cater to the part of the fan base that wants to fuck him and can’t bear the thought that he could be anything besides a straight man whore that will take you backstage and make your wattpad fantasy come true.

Need to promote something? Just have him get papped coming out of the gym looking annoyed or start a rumor about him and some skinny white woman. If the fandom gets pissed about something (think Holivia stunt shit), drop an unseen or bts video, announce tour dates or mv, etc. That way, people forget about whatever fuckery occurred and still spend their money on concert tickets, merch, Pleasing, or whatever else they’re pushing.

They don’t seem to promote his achievements much, though. Or address/explain controversial things…other than clarifying that he did not spit on Chris Pine. Everything else…crickets.

Personally, I’m not here for that shit. If I was interested in a typical rock star, I could get that with anyone. I’m here for his music and Harry the person…cute, kind, quirky, funny, dorky. I’d rather see glimpses of his personality and humanity with emphasis on his talent and music. I know he values his privacy and avoids social media but look how he practically broke the internet with the “accidental” selfie. Everyone loved that.

He could do things like that, promote himself, and do fan service without sacrificing his personal life. I think about things like Niall dancing to his own song on TikTok, Lewis Capaldi with his hilarious content, an occasional selfie or joke. When he’s promoting a new album, it’s Howard Stern, it’s Corden, etc. I’d just like to see him branch out a bit and do some different things that showcase his talent and personality rather than the same old interviews and…who’s Harry hooking up with this week?

Again, just my opinion.

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rose-lord-of-simps · 2 years

Text

Damn I’m glad I left Wattpad. People complain about tumblr users but geez the new generation of Wattpad users are fucking idiots man.

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amethystroselily · 3 years

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People always compare Gojo and Dazai, and it made me realize they’re commonly mischaracterized in opposite directions. People always act like Dazai is a way better person than he actually is and like Gojo is a way worse person than he actually is. Like Gojo is a better person than Dazai, but you would never know that if you looked at fanon characterization.

Especially the Wattpad/ straight tiktok crowd. They act like Dazai would worship you and call you cute nicknames and defend your honor and that Gojo would cheat on you, gaslight you, and call you a whore. I don’t think either of them is ready for a relationship or would be in one, first of all, but still...

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo #gojo satoru #dazai osamu #Dazai #bsd dazai #BSD #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #gojou satoru #satoru gojou

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ignyxdaughter · 3 years

Text

𝐕𝐈𝐈 — 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐓

(𝐦𝐨𝐛 𝐛𝐨𝐬𝐬! 𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐨 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 / 𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐨 𝐱 𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐬)

MASTERLIST

READ ON WATTPAD

A/N: English is not my first language. I don’t own The Punisher and Legacies characters; they’re, respectively, Stan Lee and Marvel Studios, L. J. Smith and Julie Plec. Also, this is my Billy and some The Punisher events will be changed due to the story's course!

word count: 2243

warnings: minor character death (flashback)

────────── ★ ★ ★ ──────────

"Trust isn't a word on Tissaia's vocabulary", I say to Billy. "She doesn't trust the bank or any ally."

"That's a safety measure", Billy waves his hand while walking to the counter to pour himself another drink. I'm not a whiskey fan, but I have to admit that I need some alcohol to talk. When the subject is my parents, the Mikaelsons must be included, even when I don't want to. And if Billy finds my explanation too shallow, he'll probably torture me.

"But her safety measure is insane." And stupid. "When you have allies, you have to build a bond with them, trust them enough to intertwine your business. Wanting or not, you'll have to sacrifice something."

"I know, love. Money is always the easiest way."

I nod. "People tend to associate money to power. However, trust is the lead to power. Trust is everything."

"'Cause it needs loyal partners to conquer. Or to stay in power."

"Yes", I pause, trying to do a comparison. "What would be of Arthur without Lancelot?"

"Alive." Seriously? "You know I'm not wrong, sweetheart."

Billy's looking at me with that damn smirk behind the whiskey glass. I almost take a deep breath. Almost. "Lancelot was loyal... in his own way."

"Yeah, like fucking his king's wife and causing a war is loyalty."

I huff in anger. He really knows the true story. Usually, people think the original version is actually the most famous adaptation: the knight and the king were best friends, and when Arthur went insane when Gwynevere passed away, Lancelot died to protect him on the war provoked by Morgana.

"Ok. Then, what would be of Sherlock without Watson?"

"Now you got the right example, love", Billy winks at me, and I roll my eyes. He really knows how to piss me off.

"What I'm trying to say is that Tissaia is an amateur. If she really was something, she'd be trusting her allies and seeking respect and fear instead of money."

"She's famous by her manipulations and robberies, isn't that enough?"

I scoff. That bitch just thinks she is manipulative. She doesn't deep spy on her target or try to slow build a bound to then betray them. She usually just appears out of nowhere with a cute smile and good actions until she finds what she wants. You see, my biological breeders mistake real manipulation to falsity. They're not like my family, and certainly — thank God —, I'm nothing like them.

"Of course not. She kills innocent, real innocent people", I look deep at Billy's eyes for him to know I'm not kidding. "They break families, and not just financially. Tissaia usually persuades the pure hearts to shelter her, while Andrew seeks the wealth during their stay. Me and my sisters used to be the distraction. One morning, the family wakes up with nothing", I sigh. "You must know what people do to survive, how love is really put on the table."

"Have you ever seen them after everything? The families."

I nod. "I used to sneak around a lot. When I was 7, I met a man at an alley. He was my family's latest victim. Old, scrawny, sick... His wife abandoned him and became a whore, and him... waited for death."

"What was it?"

"Tuberculosis. He was doing treatment when he sheltered my family."

I don’t tell Billy that this is a half lie. I actually met the man when I was curled up in a box trying to get warm and sleep. But my attempt was interrupted by an endless cough; and there was the old sick man. He remembered me, saying I was the shy kid that talk so little that he and his wife had thought for a moment I was mute until I had asked to help her with the dishes. But what impressed me in that night was that the man didn’t harm me at all. Actually, after a long talk, he sang a song for me to sleep.

When I woke up, he was dead, with a blood flow coming out of his mouth due to his illness. I’ve never learnt his name, but I wish I had to honor such a pure golden heart… His death grew my hate of my family.

A long and tense silence reign over me and Billy for a few minutes, when suddenly I come back to myself. He’s flavoring his expensive whiskey when I look again at him, just to notice that he was glancing me this whole time, waiting for me to talk. There are no pressure nor judgement in those dark eyes of his, just... understanding?

"That's why people don't like them. They break the few pure hearts in this world, they fuck with their lives, Billy."

He rests his glass in his left hand. "Is all dirt money, then. So dirt that even criminals are disgusted."

"She doesn't use credit card because of that. They could track and kill her."

"Who are their enemies?"

I scoff. "Got a hunch of my suggestion for you?"

"Maybe, sweetheart." He knows. Allie with their enemies before going after them.

"Ok", I sigh and stretch my neck. "Canadians, Irishes and Norwegians... A few British, a lot of Brazilians, allies of the American Russian mafia like Balakin and Novikov... Soliel Alvarez... New Orleans."

"Entire New Orleans?"

"What? You really thought my father would've allowed his little girl's awful parents in his town?"

Another minute of silence. I can practically hear the gears working on Billy's brain to form a plan. He's moved to his office's double height, staring at the transparent glass and probably incentivating his employees to work more with this angry boss face on. Classic.

“How are you adopted and Rina and Katri aren’t?”

"They didn't want me, so I found dad, and he found me. End of the story."

He doesn't insist, which I thank in silence. Even almost 10 years, I still can't get over the argues between me and my parents, the guilt and critics I had to take every single day before that night. The night where my own mother battered me and no one — not even my father or sisters — did anything to stop it.

I went through that door and never came back, living up to my promise to not tolerate that — and any other — toxic environment anymore. But I sneaked into the police station to see if my family have searched for me, hope fading every time I found out they hadn't.

I can still remember the helplessness of being totally alone, the coldness of London streets, the disgusting smells on the alleys I slept, the sensation of being a nothing as the only clothe I had was fading away by the dirt, the judging and pitifull glares... If it wasn't for Elijah, I'd be dead for a long time ago.

I'd never been in one, I said when he brought me to his hotel room.

What? He frowned in curiosity. In a hotel room?

In a bedroom.

He sighed. Where did you sleep in your house, Katherine?

On the couch. The bedroom's for Rina and Katri. They're the oldest and were the planned ones.

Planned ones?

They didn't see me in mom's belly.

My vision begin to blurr with the memory, and closing my eyes, a silent tear runs down my face. In a hurry, I wipe it away, hoping Billy didn't see it. Even dead my father is my fatal weakness, and I think he'll always be.

"Are you familiar with their enemies?" Billy asks. "Those you said."

"The Norwegians, New Orleans and Soliel. I have an old story with Kage Novikov too."

"So you know them."

I shrug, trying my best to appear relaxed to him. "You can say that."

"Do you have their number? Any of the enemies."

"No, but I always can count with Soliel at Amsterdam."

He turns to me with a raised brow. "The city of weed."

"Tequila is her speciality", I wink, knowing he'll get the hint of the baptized tequila. "But and you, Russo? Do you know any of those enemies? Or are you just asking my acquaintances to make more allies?"

He scoffs. "I don't need more."

"Oh, yeah? What do you have, then?"

He smiles in the smug way that makes rage fill my whole body. I swear he's the most confident man I've ever met. "Aside the whole USA? Let's see what do I have... Some of the Irish, a little bit of Serbia... Russia."

I almost choke in my own saliva, not caring for his smirk as he walks towards me. Sure, I know — and worked for — some entire mafias too, like the Italian and the Norwegian, but the Russian and its fellows is almost impossible to know it all. "Entire?"

"Entire."

"How?"

"I was at the Marine, forgot it?" Billy's now in front of me, and he kneels to talk face to face. "So here's what's gonna happen: I have a weapon deliver next month in London, and you're coming with me. Then, we'll go to Amsterdam and negociate with her." My expression must've made a silent question, because he answers after a minute: "I'm not gonna use the Russian mafia to seek my ex, Katherine. This is fooliness."

I shrug. "Never said you would."

"But your face did", he sighs. "I'm not an idiot to debt myself because of this."

"Ok... And the dossier?"

"We'll work on it. And that's why will just seek your friend next month. Our proposal must be undeniable."

"You want me to tell you all I know about everything and everyone then."

He smirks, putting the empty cup on the table. "Good to know you're still clever after your fast."

I clench my jaw in anger, missing the cuffs clicking. I'm almost seeing red, and now I seek Billy's neck to choke him just to be stopped by my own hands. When I look down, I notice that the handcuffs sound were Billy taking advantage of my fury to unchain me from the chair and lock up my other wrist.

He takes all of my senses away, taking advantage of all my emotions and distractions. It's like I'm just an inexperienced girl again. An amateur.

I hate him. I hate him so much.

"C'mon", he pulls the chains to stand me up, and grabs my waist in precaution, probably. Billy still thinks I'll try to run away, but little does he know that I don't have anywhere to go, or anyone waiting for me, wanting to be with me.

The road back to his penthouse is silent, and when we're there, he pulls me on the soft black couch like I was a toy. "Dom and Dante will take care of you", Billy signals to the huge and broad men. Both are with suits and have brown hair and golden tanned skin. They must be brothers. "You remember Dom, right? You stabbed his foot." He points at the one with hair to the shoulders and a death glare at me.

"It was self defense. Nothing personal."

"Go fuck yourself", he says, and his brother smirk.

Billy gives us a mocking laugh and approaches me. "What will you do?" I ask.

"To you? Nothing... for now. To your family? I'm not suicidal. But to your biological ones? Hell."

"Will you kill them? Torture them?"

"No, sweetheart. Death is far too good for them. They deserve to live in misery, don't you think?" I stay silent for no reason. Maybe is because Billy's with such a powerful and stern posture that makes me understand why people are usually afraid of him, why they don't want to challenge the Anvil CEO. He lifts my chin with his long calloused fingers, and murmur on my ear to not be heard. "Do you know what I'll do, Mikaelson?”

"What?" I whisper back.

"I will bankrupt them. They'll go broken."

I look at him with widened eyes. This a terrific idea and I'm crazy to see the Morris' suffering, but I didn't see that coming from him. I thought he was crazy in love with Rina. Is Billy the serious jerk kind of man? The dark one that makes their "loved ones'" lives hell when they betray him?

"Where are you going?"

"None of your business!" He screams back, slamming the door.

Now, alone with 2 guards — the brothers Dom and Dante —, I look down just to see the chains are still on my wrists. Stress fill my veins more than the usual, and I take deep breaths to try to calm myself down. Minutes passed and the breathing exercises — even with closed eyes — and good thoughts fail, so I start to look around to seek for a distraction. It's night in Manhattan, the building's lights seeming stars on the sky when viewed from the penthouse, which is really clean. There're no mess on the kitchen island or the counter of the huge opened living room. Billy must pay someone to clean it all for him.

#a trap for broken souls #spy au #assassin au #mafiastories #original character #fanfic wattpad #the punisher #the punisher fanfiction #billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #billy russo x oc #legacies #the originals #the mikaelsons #legacies fanfiction #the originals fanfiction #mob!billy russo

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love-geeky-fangirl · 4 years

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Ranking every teen drama I've watched

I have gotten really into teen dramas lately, because it's quarantine I can't go out and have fun, but I can still watch other people my age going out and having fun and doing things I don't get to do. Anyway I haven't seen all teen dramas, I was never interested in supernatural ones, so you won't find Vampire Diaries and similar shows on this list.

From worst to best:

The Secret Life of the American Teenager

I will never understand how this show ran for five seasons. It will forever remain a mystery to me. This show is so bad it's good. The writing resembles a wattpad story, Amy's pregnancy is inconsistent (like how was she five months pregnant for like five or six episodes, aren't the episodes supposed to be set a week apart?), the acting is bad (that is not to say that Molly Ringwald or Shailene Woodley are bad actresses, obviously they're not, I'm talking about Amy's sister that has the same facial expression no matter what her mood is supposed to be), some of the views this show expresses are very old-fashioned and damaging (the madonna-whore binary, the fact that they can't even utter the word abortion) and every single male character on this show is a creep and a cheater. I can't believe I watched like thirteen episodes of this. I will never get that time back.

Weirdest moment: "I'm a whore!" "Well, you're my whore." (Was this supposed to be romantic??)

Best moment: none

Glee

This is going to be unpopular and don't get me wrong, I like Glee, but I feel like the writers put much more thought into the musical numbers than the storylines. Again, Quinn's pregnancy is inconsistent (but I'm starting to think TV shows are always inconsistent about pregnancies), the characters don't look like they're in high school at all, the cheerleaders wear their uniforms 24/7 for no reason (Quinn even wore it to her sonogram, like seriously?) the whole celibacy club thing is weird and Mr Schue is a terrible teacher. However, the visuals and the musical numbers are great, Sue Sylvester is iconic (albeit also a terrible teacher) and some of the scenes are really emotional (Kurt singing I Wanna Hold Your Hand made my sister cry) so overall, it's pretty good.

Weirdest moment: Finn praying to grilled cheese (what??)

Best moment: Quinn giving birth to Bohemian Rhapsody, Kurt singing I Wanna Hold Your Hand

Dawson's Creek

I LOVE their 90s' outfits and Joey and Pacey are really otp material, but I just can't stand Dawson! He got mad that Joey didn't tell him about his mother's affair, as if it was her place to get involved. She was 15! It's understandible she didn't want to get tangled into that mess. He also slut-shamed Jen in a really gross way. He literally stopped talking to her for a day when he found out she isn't a virgin. Why are both Joey and Jen into this guy?? This would've been a much better show if it was called Joey's Creek or Pacey's Creek.

Weirdest moment: the way Dawson's mom confessed her affair to her husband. I don't think any irl human would use this choice of words. Also that scene where Dawson's father was teaching him how to kiss while Joey was watching. Cringe.

Best moment: any time Joey and Pacey are bickering. My shipper heart!

Pretty Little Liars

I loved the book version of this, but the TV version seems way too dramatic. First of all, they romanticized Aria and Ezra's relationship (ewww) and made the whole thing seem much more overdramatic. I don't know how to explain it, I mean the books are also dramatic but the TV show somehow took it to a whole new level. None of the girls look like they're in high school, but I love the way they dress and do their makeup. It's almost as though the writers put more thought into their outfits than storylines. I still loved watching it until Netflix took it off, though.

Weirdest moment: Spencer somehow trying to block A's number from her laptop in the middle of a park and then being confused that it didn't work. Weren't you supposed to be the smart one, Spencer?

Best moment: Haleb in the shower, hiding from Hanna's mom.

Skins

This is a classic. Effy is iconic (I somehow heard about her even before watching Skins) and the musical number at the end of season 1 was out of nowhere but still somehow fit perfectly into the story. I also give this show point for being one of the few TV shows where teen characters are actually played by real life teens. They look their age, talk their age (no "I reject reality" or other cringy lines like that) and aren't unrealistically perfect like characters from American teen dramas tend to be. They look like people you might actually meet in high school. However the show loses points for all the continuity errors (are 8 episodes supposed to be the whole school year??) and the number of unneccessary death/tragic accidents. It seemed kind of over-the-top and unneccessarily dark and brutal at times.

Weirdest moment: Chris's graphic death

Best moment: Wild World

Euphoria

The Gen Z American version of Skins, but with better visuals. Much better. I loved the aesthetic, the colors, the lighting and glitter. Zendaya's a great actress and I give this show points for casting an actual trans actress in the role of Jules. However I find it weird that all guys on this show are complete irredeemable assholes (except of Jules's dad and Ethan that is). Are we supposed to just root for the girls and not the guys? Also I find it hard to believe that any of these characters are actually 16/17. They have sex all the time (yeah teenagers have sex sometimes but on this show they treated Kat as some kind of a chaste nun for being a virgin at 16) and have seemingly no rules and no curfew. It would've been much more believable if they were in college.

Weirdest moment: Nate breaking into Tyler's house, beating him up and then taking a shower. The audacity this guy has!

Best moment: "You did this to me!" and Rue having an anxiety attack on the stage in theater class

Gossip Girl

I know this is also an unpopular opinion, because many claim Gossip Girl is the best teen drama ever, but for me it just got way too soapy as the seasons went on. The first two seasons were believable, even though they didn't really look like they were in high school, but after that it was just more and more weird plot points. I will give this show points for the fashion (I mean Blair's headbands and school uniform inspired a fashion line), the acting ("I killed someone"- iconic) and the choice of background music (Nate and Serena kissing to Paparazzi, Thanksgiving with Watcha Say). Despite the wild twists and turns of events, I just had to keep watching because this show had me hooked.

Weirdest moment: Bart Bass somehow flying off the building for no reason (seriously, what he did there had no logical explanation and defied laws of physics), Dan being Gossip Girl, Bart faking his death and returning more evil than before, Serena becoming Gossip Girl, the affidavit, everyone randomly stopping going to college... there are so many but Bart takes the cake I guess

Best moment: the Thanksgiving flashbacks from season 1, Dan placing a plastic crown on Blair's head

Freaks and Geeks

This is one of the few shows where high school is depicted realistically. It's not all glitter and parties and not everyone has sex and does drugs. Okay, I admit, the bullying was over the top and it was weird how no adults cared but other than that, it was pretty spot-on. It was emotional without being too dramatic and far-fetched and also had funny moments. Yes some of the characters may have been stereotypes but at least the show seemed self-aware of that. It's truly a shame we only got 18 episodes of this show, while The Secret Life of the American Teenager somehow got five seasons??? I don't get it.

Weirdest moment: when Cindy suddenly got super mean once she started dating Sam

Best moment: Daniel showing up at Kim's doorstep, Sam breaking down in tears in the end of 'Garage Door'

Gilmore Girls

I'm not sure this one counts as a teen drama, maybe it's more of a dramedy but I'm still including it here. It's funny, the dialogue is witty and full of obscure pop-culture references and the relationships between generations complex. Same as with Freaks and Geeks, the portrayal of high school is pretty realistic. Characters are shown studying and taking tests and not just partying all the time. However the show loses points for getting weirdly soapy in the 7th season. The dialogue wasn't as good and the camera angles were soap opera like and the storylines weren't very good either. You could really tell the show changed show-runners. The earlier seasons are the best. It's hard to explain but something about them feels cozy like a warm blanket and a cup of hot chocolate on a rainy day.

Weirdest moment: Lorelai marrying Chris and then making the whole "you're the man I want to want" speech, Lorelai defending and loving Dean for no reason

Best moment: Rory's graduation speech, Rory yelling at Chris and calling him out for not having been there for her, Then She Appeared, "Yes Emily, you may go first"... there are so many!

#teen dramas #the secret life of the american teenager #glee #dawson's creek #pll #skins #euphoria #gossip girl #freaks and geeks #gilmore girls #i would've included the oc but i havent seen enough of it yet

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seb-owns-these-tatas · 4 years

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Witcher of the Night (Chapter 21)

THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER.

CHAPTER 20.1

WOTN MASTERLIST

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: Bearing the child from a man who promised was sterile gave more anxiety as you lived in their world, knowing that Geralt will resent as the offspring was forged by a cursed spirit that held her own reasons and consequences. Your fate becoming more complicated as each day pass by with a dreading feeling that you surely have no idea about.

Warnings: The usual blasphemy. Lore about the Djinn. (I've made it up) Matka means 'mother'. Ingrith is an OC of mine so she ain't real in the witcher story. Hehehe. (Surprise! Guess Geralt knew Ingrith after all. HE LIED. LMAO. 😂😅🤣) Panicking reader. Pregnancy.

Words: 5.4k

A/N: Is this a boring chapter? I dunno. But, it will provide everyone the lore they need for some of your questions to be answered. I forgot to actually edit this because I was too focused on ranking up in Free Fire. Hahahahah. 😂 Had to edit this a day before I actually publish it in Tumblr. (I usually take 2 days because everybody loves to disturb me in my house. Also I need to manually tag people in taglists, check my grammar and typos. Oof. It makes me squint my eyes too hard on the screen because of how small the letters can be)

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE! Sorry for the grammatical errors and such because English isn’t my mother tongue! PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK AFTER READING, BB! I apologize for errors!

Disclaimer: PNG’s and pictures used in edits are not mine even the GIF’s too. Character development and personalities are based from my understanding and how I want them to be. I only own my original characters in this fanfic.

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

"Geralt of Rivia,"

Vicious and cunning as she may seem, her tone was utterly redolent. Familiar faces finally met in such a fate that not any fortune teller may assume would happen. Loved ones being involve in adversities that has been unflattering for the witcher who stood before the queen's long associate in the castle of Kaedwen, a victorious smirk warping her sharp-edge face that Geralt has not reciprocated. Twisted in a smile that tells she was hopeful over her plans being moved into the right places.

"---I knew you would come," Ingrith spoke as a matter of fact.

The witcher knew that this encounter was inevitable for the second time. Their previous meeting lingering inside his head---being the reason why he chose to live in the outskirts of Kaedwen which eventually made him tarry a bit over going to Kaer Morhen after receiving no answer from her. Receiving much of an answer he needed through Cuthbert, his neighbor who happened to heard rumors about 'her' whereabouts more than from the sorceress he'd decided to talk with.

He'd finally knew where Yennefer has been travelling when you've arrived, his search being an easy one as Geralt discovered her location after trying not to seek for the sorceress he has been looking for years---ending up knowing her area when he gave up finding the sorceress after a month or so.

"Where is she?" he beseech his avows, the scowl stern and never fading as he was eager to see you since the moment he step foot in the castle.

"Yen or your futile human? Oh, it wouldn't be that cursed princess you've butchered in Blaviken because she's already dead, Geralt."

The cunning sorceress tutted before him as they stood at the foot of the abandoned round tower, no guards being publicly seen because of the fact that they were too much of a milksop. Ingrith, Tybalt and Eanraig---the ones who had cabbalistic abilities were the only people who tries to take care of the prince. His own parents and siblings never giving bother about checking how he was doing despite of being harmless in daylight.

"---You've disappointed me---I knew you had a penchant for sorceresses or women whom you could consider as your kind---strong, discerning....and even whores paid to entertain you through your pitiful solitude,"

Ingrith went on with her vouching, leaning her head to the side with a knowing gaze inside her eyes; a forewarning that she was dismayed from his foolish decisions that she finds, continuously mocking his settlements, "---But, you've chosen a useless woman who could not defend herself even by telling the queen that she was not the thief who has stolen her precious necklace,"

The butcher barred his teeth, jutting his jaw forward as he felt his back turn tense and rigid from how he was turning furious as each second passes by with the sorceress he'd regretted to seek for help before---not knowing she would also be the person to afflict pain for his midget in the future.

"You've told the queen that she stole her jewelry when you know it wasn't her, not a canny persuasion made, Ingrith."

Her grin turned bigger, finding his anger satisfying and entertaining in her perspective. Ingrith could disguise as a devil and nobody would notice because of how wicked she'd been turning herself into; a wretch that Geralt have seen from her with the sacrilegious intentions living inside her mind.

"I've expected more from you than to choose and defend a mortal, Witcher."

"---I've remember the night we first met," she continued to ran her mouth, sardonic as she gladly hinted. Ingrith could see the blaze in his golden eyes, how he wanted to unsheathe his sword that was carried behind his back to show her his indignation for everything---from leaving her niece in the hands of her father who detested her due to deformity.

Hence, she has left young Yennefer with no guilt in her eyes despite knowing everything---leaving the past behind and acting like it never happened, taking the initiative to ignore her whereabouts and look the other way from how she grew into a strong woman.

"You were asking Yennefer of Vengerberg from me," she stepped a foot closer towards the witcher, making Geralt deeply breathe through his nose from his pique and lack of personal space that she was trying to bombard him with.

Ingrith couldn't help but let her grin fall when Geralt took a step back, steering clear from her suggestive gestures as he gave her a low hiss and rumble of his chest when he added words to complete her sentence, "---and you had other plans,"

"I've had better plans for us, Geralt."

"I do not wish to be involved by those treacherous plans of yours. You want power---you wanted to become stronger. Settling yourself in the castle to do what you want. Even planning to extirpate your own niece because she is more powerful than you,"

The sorceress scoffed to herself, exasperated from how he blocked her advances. His amber filled with fury as it has still not yet died down after going the deep end. Her trials involving on discouraging his faith for a mere mortal like you. Her ears felt like it was being rattled from the inside, triggering her pride and ego over being told that she was below of her niece in terms of strength and magic, "Yennefer of Vengerberg? She is not powerful as you may seem, Witcher."

"You've left her alone with people who do not care for her,"

"Sorceresses don't die easily than mortals. It's in her blood; our blood, Elven blood. You know this."

Geralt couldn't help but give her a snicker, the small curl of his lip raising in disbelief for her intentions over you and being involved in his god-forsaken life that he didn't want you to be a part with, "You want my mortal to die,---" he gruffly muttered, the words tasting bitter on the ends of his tongue for the idea of you dying in his arms.

"---I won't let that happen, not until I'm alive, Ingrith."

The witcher continued to brood like how people described him to be; his mood turning sour for not seeing you yet and not knowing what was happening to you as it kept his chest bothered and heavy. Ingrith's features warped into a twist, her nose scrunched from how distasteful she found his protection over your vulnerable, weakened self; how pathetic he was caring for a mortal that could die easily especially having the curse, you were more impuisant than any other woman in the continent because a curse had effects and consequences.

His safeguarding would be useless because of the inevitable juncture that would give him sorrow and Geralt had no idea what he was in when he was trying hard to shelter you out of harms way.

Ingrith crossed her arms, shaking her head at his determination, "She'll eventually die, witcher. It's her fate in the continent. Humans like her reach their demise with misery and regret because they're nugatory, serving no purpose but to be insignificant over us,"

The latter turned his back away from her, ending the discussion with his perseverance being unyielding, shaking his head for her estimated fortune telling that he believed was a lie; understanding that she was only saying it because you didn't belong to their world and you were at high risk over danger for the chaos living in the continent.

"She won't die nor will you have the opportunity of doing so,"

"Her existence would bring more despair; more sorrow for your fate. She's just a nuisance value of human kind!" Ingrith loudly exclaimed from behind, watching him courageously push the doors to the round tower where the cursed prince has been living. Disregarding her warnings like the wind passing through.

He heard her but didn't give any acknowledge over her words. Whether it was true or not, the witcher may never know unless the day that Ingrith has been foretelling has actually been damned after all.

The fairly large throne room was filled in luxury, themed in gold and red. Such color that simply tells how their bloodline lived around the hierarchy that they highly take care of. Blood and coins. It says all. Their ornaments and artifacts spent with coins seeming to be conceived in detail for their palace rather than for the people who deserved it better living in Kaedwen.

Queen Makeda tapped her fingers along the arms of her throne, her gaze sharp and pondering over Geralt and Tybalt who stood in the middle of the room. Both having an obvious lour; deepening when she started to give orders about what was to be expected over the hunt, any hints as to where the witch has been rumored to be last seen or any more information that must be shared before Geralt takes off.

"Tybalt shall be coming in search for the witch with the witcher,"

Prince Markith, he was the queen's younger son before Prince Althalos. A lot more younger than the cursed man, immature as the maids say so. He stood beside his seated mother, wearing a simple doublet over his black breeches. The fading freckles on his cheeks stretching when a giggle escaped his lips; an obvious space between his two front teeth shown as his laugh echoed around the throne room that has gotten Geralt to give a gander.

"Witch. Witcher. Witchest." the teenager playfully mumbled beneath his breath, finding amusement over the whole thing going on with his family especially seeing the white haired witcher all brooding and silent, subtly mocking his kind in the least offending way as possible.

The queen immediately given him a sharp warning of her gaze, cocking her head to the side and seeing her son continuously chuckling from his own joke, having his own world that he always manages to live in. Seeming to be like he had imaginary friends rather than real ones that his parents seclude him amongst children because Markith should be remained untouched from the filth that people had.

"Markith, that is not a proper attitude of a prince," she lowly scolded in the midst of talking, the child's interruption obviously irking her temper.

Markith raise a brow, the child's tone utterly sardonic as he spoke, "But, I'm not the crown prince. Brother is. But, if brother dies then---"

She cut him off with a brusque hiss, "He will not die from our hands! He will live and rule the future of Kaedwen,"

"Does this kingdom even have a future when it is ruled by your hands?"

Quietude filled the throne room after her son's sarcastic retort. The silence was frothing; bubbling from her expected aggravation over the younger prince's shameless answer. Much to her chagrin, she has never received an apology nor an explanation as to why Markith suddenly blurted it out in the open for Geralt to hear.

Upon hearing those words coming from a child, the witcher couldn't help but stood nonplussed. His expressions coming off as emotionless with his brooding charm jumping off the four corners of the room. In which has received a glower from the vampire who also stood beside him, his eyes seeming to be taking Geralt much more of his attention when they were both called to stay beside each other.

Queen Makeda raised a finger, ushering one knight to march his way up the numbered stairs under the lavish canopy where the king and queen's throne sits.

"Bartley, bring him back to his chambers," she roughly ordered, her teeth barred as she glared at Markith who was also feral for disregarding his opinions over their corrupted reigning throughout their kingdom. Bartley gave a courteous bow for the queen before walking to where her son stood, forcefully grabbing onto his shoulders as he gently pushed him around to leave.

"But, Mother---"

The queen never takes no for an answer. Hence, one loud yell was all the child has taken before being thrown out, his gaze lingering longer at the witcher whom he has heard tales about; having quite the eagerness to see if the tales were true to their words. Yet, his mother decided to lock him up in his room again for being curious and playing around.

"Now!"

Geralt stood completely still. The scowl never changing as he gave a heavy sigh, seeming like the world was carried on his burly, armored shoulders. His sour mood being the result of your prior, quick separation before he even walked to the throne room. Your pained words ringing inside his head for a thousand times like a plague that he had finally not been immune for.

He shouldn't have left you in that condition especially when you were physically injured. Geralt actually just proved to you how much of a witcher he was; cantankerous, blunt and emotionless even though you've had this strong faith for him that you believed being the opposite of it.

But, he just needed to fuck it up by leaving you without a word and also calling you pathetic in such ways.

The butcher continued eating his own heart out by staring at the queen with brooding eyes, waiting for the go signal for his hunt. He wanted to get this over with; planning to do his job right and find the witch, bring her in the castle to reverse the spell then off you go with him. Leaving all of these behind as a past that you would never forget or decide to forget forever if you wanted to.

Tybalt audibly scoffed for Geralt to give him his regard, taking the side-eye from the witcher as he publicly stated his cavils, "Why am I traveling with him now, yer' majesty? to be his guard? Hilarious!"

One familiar hum was heard; gruff and utterly sarcastic once Geralt began to frankly acknowledge. His hostility over the vampire obvious when he has opened his mouth, "I work better alone and away from blood sucking monsters." a feigned curl of his lips appearing to be a smile has been received towards the queen, her quick understanding seeing that it was a forced one that Geralt was trying hard to perceive over his altercations.

"---I'm a witcher. I slaughter beasts. Monsters of any kind."

In the spur of the moment, Geralt turned his head to let Tybalt see the mocking flicker inside his golden eyes.

Tybalt knew he was pertaining to his kind. Vampires. He couldn't help but clench his fists on his sides, his nostrils flared while the witcher was trying to get on his nerves---or he just basically hated the higher vampire to send his animosity by being forthright, "What ye' lookin at, Weccan?" he sneered back at Geralt with barred teeth while the white wolf had the end of his lip curled into a leer, irked by his smug pillorying in the presence of the queen like he didn't give a fuck.

He really didn't especially when he wanted to behead everyone in his way.

Geralt's presence was already making Tybalt's hackles rise without even trying to nettle his temper. The image of his newly bathed hair was already narking him without even seeing his face and the feeling was mutual for both enemies.

Tybalt began forming his own ridicules, seeing the witcher become the object of his scorn.

"Your skin is as pale as your tresses. I doubt you still have any amount of blood in ye'!"

"The joke's too old. I'll assume you've asked me if I do bleed." the white wolf was nonchalant as he quipped. Displaying to be quite blase from his attempts of hurling more anger out of him when he was too furious from the start to even begin with.

"---Witcher, do you bleed?"

Geralt couldn't help the most jaded expression he could ever muster upon hearing the most asked question, uttering out a grumble of his insouciant timbre of his voice that has gotten Tybalt bellowing from his remark.

"My blood's not tasty enough for you. Don't bother."

"This feckin' arse!"

They've both sent each other deep growls against their chests, a low rumbling sound that was bouncing off the castle walls that everyone who was inside the throne room could notice as they stood side by side, giving each other glares and their derisive taunting.

Queen Makeda had a finger supporting her head from falling. Her arm folded and leaning against her throne whilst sighing over their random twits. Foot tapping along the stoned floors as she gave them both her enervated attention.

Tybalt's fixated gaze has been cut short when he'd knelt on the ground with one knee, bowing his head to pay his respects for the queen---probably, seeking support over not letting him travel with the witcher who must have a difficult time finding the witch that couldn't be found at all; not wanting to share his time with Geralt because their personalities were clashing against each other like rusty, acidic metal, "---Your highness, If you're worried about him dying in the middle of saving yer' witch whom can lift Prince Althalos' curse, I can assure you, he will not die. Legend says witchers die from monsters they hunt. The witch obviously isn't---"

The queen has raised her palm to cease his comments, completely unimpressed by how privileged he was being when it was her decision whether he would let him go or not.

"I can see how you both despise each other," she plainly stated, sounding nasally like she was too disappointed by Tybalt's actions.

At the mere exclamation of that, both men spoke in the same time. Their antipathy colliding even with their words sounding exactly what they felt for one another.

"Hate him." Geralt and Tybalt both snarled with such rancor, glaring for one more time before partially giving their whole attention to the queen who sat before the throne.

They've seen her mouth turn into frown, turning a blind eye towards the higher vampire who was left sulking for his sudden hunt. His plans with his sorceress coming to a stop for the queen's orders, intending to guard all your whereabouts in the palace as Ingrith tries to formulate a scheme to have you suffer without raising their hands on you nor using magic that will eventually fail because you were protected by a djinn.

"Tybalt. Be with the witcher. I want you guarding him until he finds the witch. The witcher shan't go back empty handed."

Tybalt couldn't help but curse beneath his breath, subtly rolling his eyes as he stood on both feet, adjusting his fur coat resting along his shoulders, "Oh, feckin' bullocks." before shaking his head as he forced a nod and approval out of him to gesture at the queen of Kaedwen.

Geralt calmly tried his best to exhale in a relaxing demeanor, his facial features twisting in utmost pique from the idea that he would be spending five days with the vampire he had a fight with back in the marketplace.

"Fuck." he lowly snarled to himself, momentarily shutting his eyes to breathe in disappointment. His head cocked to the side. Geralt felt Tybalt grip onto his armored shoulder, giving him a shallow pat to state his indignation with the whole ordeal. He turned on his heels, marching out of the throne room to fetch and pack his belongings for the journey ahead, quickly jogging out of the throne room that was making him want to curse as every second passes by with the witcher.

Queen Makeda can't help the snicker on her face, a smile forming wrinkles on the apples of her cheeks as she stated her false promises.

"You have my word about your little woman, Witcher. We will not touch her again."

Though, Geralt knew deep inside that it was all just a lie.

You've been receiving lots of personal questions from the druid. One of his queries was about the idea of wholeheartedly accepting a child from Geralt which you explained an approval if it was given in the future---or if he was even capable of giving you one. You strongly believed he can't.

Though, in the back of your head, you couldn't help but think how your child would look like with his genetics. Will she or he have white hair too? you gotta' have a child with beautiful genes somehow. An echo of hopeful, deranged voices filled your thoughts, quickly disregarding the thought in the back of your crazed head whilst hearing Eanraig bombard another question of his that kept you aware of how zealous he sounded.

"Do you love Geralt?"

"Woah. Hold your horses, Eanraig."

Subtly swallowing the anxiety away from hearing such question, you've warily cleared your throat. Your mouth wincing from the pungent taste of your after-retch. The inconspicious nullify of the subject taken heed by the scholar when you've avoided his eyes.

In-denial of the truth. Eanraig thought silently to himself while he brought his hand down, away from patting your back, "You will be giving the witcher a miracle," he lightly convinced you and decided that particulars shall be provided for the mother of the miraculous child growing inside; delaying the details with the father that would surely bring him into a shock and red-light from the witcher himself because of how having a pickney in the midst of his life will only bring his descendant danger.

"---From the night of the full moon, between a man and woman who had nature take its course, a child shall be produced,"

Mentioning that in a hot second, you were quick enough to counter the lie you ought to believe in. Trusting Geralt and his words more than ever because he knew himself better than anyone else especially in 'that' department. Thorough objection was promptly written all over your shocked, disapproving expressions; brows furrowed in worry with lips turning ajar for such sensible responsibility being given to your head like a crown fitting for you.

Was Geralt lying and he actually just wanted to get you pregnant? If so, then he was certainly a wacko for even doing it---in your world he could be arrested for lying.

"Geralt's infertile! What are you even---?!?!" you couldn't finish your sentence as the responsibility for having your lechery take over you a few nights ago was worth enough to blame. How did Eanraig knew when it hasn't reached a month after a tangle of passionate desires with the witcher? did everyone knew about it but not you both? was it why you were being hated by Ingrith because she knew you were bearing Geralt's child?

A ton rounds of bulleted questions rang inside your head after one query hasn't been answered. One by one it was hopping like rabbits chasing a baited carrot because on the other side of your head, it knew answers for your disputes within yourself.

Panic and fear over an unborn child was beginning to take a toll as you grabbed onto your roots, frustratingly tugging on them while you listened to Geralt's old friend.

"Infertile or not. As long as the other is human who possesses no magic---or better yet, both humans who possesses no magic shall receive results beyond their expectations. I have never told Geralt about this because he will never believe me. A Witcher does not take that kind of news too well---might be even saying that he would take his child as a bait to be eaten by monsters than to bring them to this world,"

You've pursed your lips, finding how true it was to hear those words from the witcher knowing that you were pregnant by his child. Was this a hoax? a dream that God wanted you to never wake up from?

Being transported to their dimension; loving a mutated human you never expected to and eventually baring a child from him when he knew he could never bore a child at all. Was this your destiny for him? giving him miracles---a child that he certainly didn't expected and needed because accepting his child of surprise was already difficult for him to undertake.

"I can totally hear him saying that." you uttered completely defeated and benumbed from the breaking news that made you forget how upset you were by Geralt's prior actions.

"You are having his child, my dear. You're carrying his scion that has been forged by the Djinn." Eanraig started his elucidation about the serious topic at hand, educating you about the accelerated gestation that the Djinn's curse may come between. Earlier telling you about the expected development because you might be seeing changes over your body than how a normal woman will be expecting.

"---The process is faster. Three times hastier than a normal pregnancy---Though, never fear for the child not to be normal."

With sangfroid, the breath that you've been holding has been puffed out with your eyes drooping closed; letting the calmness sink in without having the panic rise through your head for a hundred times because of the thought that the child would turn out different in which she may suffer in the end.

Until Eanraig decided to continue his statements that has given you whiplash.

"---Because that child is beyond normal. She'll inherit the Djinn's powers because it is a part of Matka's three wishes."

"She?" you've managed to feebly and shakily mutter beneath your soft breath, feeling the coldness wrap around you for knowing more about the child that you were currently bearing---keeping you in a constant disorient that had you staring onto your twitching fingers laid upon your thighs.

"I'll assume that the Djinn you have gotten was a Matka. The cursed Djinn who lovers try to find in order to bore an heir if they cannot create their own offspring. Matka was created to give her own powers to a progeny that would inherit her abilities---believing that her existence will help the world from lessening the bedlam within the lore of monsters and humanity,"

"You're telling me I'm really pregnant with a girl? with...with Geralt's child? This child is also...owning such power that is making me hyperventilate right now?! Is it a vampire?! What if it eats my insides just like how Edward's baby did?!" your back was still utterly stiff from the nervousness that this news has given you, the mere fact of taking care of a powerful baby pouring ice buckets on your head---the dread hitting your core from the stupefaction and fear raising a child of your own.

Your modern references has given Eanraig a nonchalant stare from him, never knowing to laugh or smile over your panicky state.

"Is the witcher a vampire?" he hesitatingly spoke, his throat sounding dry before Eanraig cleared his throat when he'd lately realized.

"No."

"Then, it shall not have any vampire blood."

Skin felt tingling as your heart couldn't stop the beating so fast, throwing you into a swivet, "I'm not prepared to be a mother, Eanraig!"

You couldn't help but reach a hand to clasp around your tightening throat, further listening to Eanraig. His expositions making you want to give him a bark of laughter due to the disbelief over what reality that destiny started giving you when the Djinn happened.

"The continent has its own supernatural contingencies that nobody may ever explain---which has given you a child of yours with the witcher. Your kingdom knows no magic based on your reactions, correct?" the druid raised a brow and grabbed both of your shoulders, firmly letting you look into his grey eyes that continued inspiriting your devastated self.

You've tentatively shook your head to give an answer. The dread gripping your heart so tight that you started breathing heavily, your fingers suddenly grabbing onto your stomach because of the sudden memory that the castle guards have placed a kick to your gut. The worry for your unborn baby bringing you into utter distress for her condition.

A loud gasp left your lips, "Wait, I've been---I've been abused---hurt---what about my child, Eanraig? If---If Geralt knows about this now, he wouldn't want my child, would he?"

"I...may never know what he thinks, little woman. He hardly speaks. Only to you, the bard and his surprise child, I assume."

"Then, should I keep this from him?"

"I doubt his mutations can keep your pregnancy as a secret,"

Panicking more than ever, you've felt your eyes well up with warmth. Signalling tears threatening to come out of it as both of your palms were on either side of your head. Quiet whining were heard in the back of your throat for the future that was bound for you especially by being thrown on the face by a brick, the brick being fate moving mountains for the witcher and his ill-fate infertility---that has been surprisingly controlled by the power of magic; black magic.

"Then, what do I do?! I don't want to raise a child on my own when I'm not even prepared to be a mother?!" Eanraig heard the sobs from you and he'd quickly gathered all of the comfort he could give by patting you on the back, calming down that tough anxiety you have.

"Cease the tears," he continued to pat, "---It'll be bad for you and the child,"

"I have a witcher baby! What do I do?!" you ranted and raved, sniffing in the same time as your fingers spread across your chest, feeling it tighten a lot more because of this serious matter. Time stood still for you, imagining what Geralt would say or tell when he couldn't even accept your love; when he was still secretive over things he wasn't comfortable about telling.

Would he be fine to have a child with a woman who was in love with him when he doesn't even know his true feelings for you until now?

"I don't know how to tell, Geralt! I don't wanna let this child grow without a father---what if I leave this world all of a sudden without him? Eanraig, what if he dies out there right now and this child grows up without a father?"

You knew, he would refuse the child you were having because of how he had a long time accepting Cirilla. A child who has already been taken care of by another---what more for a baby that he certainly had no experience of having nor wished to have?

The druid welcomed all your rants over such an important and surprising incident that existed in the white wolf's life. Completely knowing for it to be an unexpected route in his path that Eanraig could never see for him. He gave one last comforting pat on your back, nodding to you as if he was trying to let his words seep inside your head---your apprehension that he solely hoped to be the maturity of your mind.

"Let fate decide what will happen. You'll eventually need to tell the father of your child---and the witcher will know about it soon,"

Little did you know, there was already a tiny beat of a heart that seem to be inaudible for a mortal; but not for a witcher who had sensitive hearing created to catch onto the tiniest rustle of leaves till the quietest thumps of every heart.

Taglist for WOTN: (Strikethrough means your blog can’t be tagged. Please check your settings, bb’s! Thank you.) @alyxkbrl @himarisolace @barkingbullfrog @ayamenimthiriel @hellodevilslittlesister @turkish276 @spookypeachx @grungelovebug @fangirl-inthe-us @nympeth @amirahiddleston @gabethelobster @dreaming-about-fanfictions @uncoolcloudyhead @melaninstylezz @psychosupernaturalhero @missjenniferb @dance-dreamer @marvelousell @kingniazx @angelias134 @tapismyforte @chook007 @covid-donotenter @deadlydemon @cheesecakeisapie @angelofthor @carrieannewaywardson, @plantingmum, @stuckupstucky, @shesthelastjedi, @a--1--1--3, @gutfucks, @raynosaurus-rex, @britty443, @suhke3, @shadowclawstudio88, @ruthoakenshield, @just-a-sad-donut, @gxrdenr0se, @singeramg

Overall witcher taglist: @pizza-eater-i-ate-the-pizza, @crazybutconfidentaf

General taglist: @agniavateira, @iloveyouyen, @rahdaleigh, @silverkitten547, @henrythickcavill, @kaatelyyynn, @marvelousell, @madelinelina, @summersong69, @raynosaurus-rex, @fckdeusername, @evansislife

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heyyyharry · 4 years

Text

Chapter 8: The Little Prince and His Flower

(from the My Girl Trilogy: Stay Mine)

…in which Harry must return to Holmes Chapel, Y/N is upset he went without her, and family drama is not family-only.

Word count: 10k

AU: actor!Harry, older!Harry, younger!Y/N, (4-year age gap).

Wattpad link (Thea as Y/N)

What to expect in this chapter: Gemma/Isaac, Niall/?, Ruby(???), and a graveyard ‘date’

Isaac closed his umbrella, almost too caught up in what had happened to realise it'd stopped raining since Gemma had left. His mouth opened to answer Emilia’s question, but his brain was stuttering, unable to keep up.

He'd kissed Gemma.

No, she had kissed him. He didn’t know why she’d done it, but did it matter? He'd kissed her back and he'd liked it. He'd kissed his best friend’s sister, who had a boyfriend, a shitty one, still, it didn’t justify what he’d done.

If Harry knew about this—

His stomach twisted into knots as his palms started to sweat. Harry couldn’t know about this. They were finally on good terms again. Isaac couldn’t fuck this up. Had Emilia seen the kiss? Would she tell Harry if she had?

Isaac took a deep breath to ease his mind. To Emilia, he said, “I came to see you. You didn’t show up for the shoot, Emi.”

“I lost my phone and I thought the shoot was next week.” She gave an apologetic grin. “I’m very sorry.”

Her apology didn’t sound sincere, but now he had bigger problems to worry about. With an impersonal tone, he said, “If you’re not interested anymore, you should’ve let me know so I could find someone else.”

“No, no, I still want to model for you!” She wrapped her fingers around his wrist before he even thought about ending the conversation. His alarmed expression got her blushing as she hid her hands behind her back, staring at her feet. “I’d been...um...I’d been busy preparing for my audition this morning. That was why I took two days off in a row, and then my boss called me here today because the shop got overcrowded.”

“An audition? For a movie?”

He hoped his startlement didn’t offend her. There was nothing wrong with her auditioning for a movie; she used to go to film school after all. But not so long ago she’d told him she’d already given up on her dream of becoming an actress, so he was curious to know how that passion had sparked again.

“Yes, a real movie!” she exclaimed, her green eyes twinkling like Harry’s whenever he talked about his job, or Y/N.

As if Emilia could read Isaac’s mind, she added, “Harry encouraged me to attend casting calls. I’ve done some commercials and modelling before, so a movie would be a nice challenge. He also gave me the contacts of some directors—” His dubious look stopped her midsentence, and her voice went flat, “I didn’t get them from his assistant. He actually gave them to me.”

“No, I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay. Please don’t explain.” With a frustrated exhalation, she peered around him. “Was that Gemma who just left?”

The hair stood up at the nape of his nape when he met her questioning gaze. Convinced that she’d seen the kiss, he had to admit, “Yeah, it was Gemma.”

Her eyes went round as she considered him in a sceptical manner. “Are you two dating?”

“No. She has a boyfriend.”

Gemma was so private that not many people knew she had a boyfriend. For all he knew, he could’ve lied to Emilia and gotten away with it even if she’d witnessed the kiss. He couldn’t bring himself to do it, though. He had a strict rule against lying. No matter how trivial you thought your lie was, you’d have to cover it up with more lies, and before you knew it, the lie had become too big, like a snowball rolling down a hill. The damage it would cause was inevitable.

Nodding slowly, Emilia ahhhhed in silence and concluded with, “Too bad. I’d love to talk to her.”

He waited for her to continue, but then she told him she had to get back to work and would text him with her new number. Just like that, she disappeared into the shop, leaving him in bafflement.

Emilia was the most curious person he’d ever met, so if knowing Gemma’s relationship status was a good enough answer for her, then she must’ve seen the kiss. What he couldn’t explain was how cool she’d been about it, as if him — her half-brother’s best friend — kissing her half-sister, who had a boyfriend, was the most normal thing in the world.

Either she hadn’t seen anything, or she was a much better actress than he thought.

Y/N had been a fool to think she would worry less about writing now that she’d found the perfect literary agent. For the last few months, she’d been stressed out about pitching her manuscript, but ever since she’d had Laura, her biggest concern had circled back to the manuscript itself.

Laura was a perfectionist, which was good, because she never made mistakes. But she expected the same thing from all of her clients, and Y/N would do anything to please that woman. Even if it meant pulling an all-nighter and living off on tea and protein bars just to finish another scene to move on to the next.

After their first meeting, Laura had emailed Y/N a very long list of what she ‘didn’t like’ about the story. Some scenes were redundant; the drama should be more intense; the plot twists weren’t shocking enough; more sex, more sex, more sex.

Y/N had vowed to herself that she would never, ever, write a generic story just to match a publisher’s bulleted list. Yet here she was, shamefully ticking boxes and changing the entire story as she went. If her characters could step out of the page, they would strangle her in her sleep for how she’d fucked up their lives. But if she was going to have an agent, she had to believe in her agent.

Laura knew what kind of book sold and what didn’t, and at this point, Y/N just wanted her novel to be published. She didn’t care if it wasn’t the best story in her opinion. As long as Laura guaranteed that Y/N’s babies would end up on the shelves in the biggest bookstores in London, Y/N would do anything – and she meant anything – Laura told her to.

“Y/N!”

The voice interrupted her train of thoughts, and she glanced up from her laptop screen to meet Alice’s amused gaze. “You haven’t touched your tea,” Alice said, her grin widened. Only then did Y/N realise her tea had been served a long while ago and already gotten cold. “And maybe stand up and walk around for a bit. How could you sit in one place for three fucking hours? Can you still feel your ass?”

Y/N snorted at the remark and wiggled against her chair. “This ass still feels pretty fine to me.”

“Weirdo,” Alice said, shaking her head.

But Alice did have a point. Y/N had been staring at the screen for so long that the words had begun to look all the same; a short break would do her some good.

Her shoulders sagged as she took off her AirPods, rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms and glanced around the shop. It’d been so crowded when they had arrived this morning. Now, most of the customers had left, and there were only them, a couple at the table by the street-facing window, and three girls in the corner booth, who were laughing and taking selfies.

Alice shot them a disapproving glare before switching her attention back to the novella in her hands — The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. Y/N’s mother had read it to her when she was little, and she still remembered the story as if she’d learned it by heart. You knew when a book was good when even Alice, who absolutely hated reading, could not put it down.

Not wanting to disrupt her friend, Y/N quietly pushed away from the table when Alice snapped her head up, her eyebrows scrunched. “Where are you going?”

“Gotta pee.”

Alice gave a dismissive wave, and her eyes were fixed on the book again.

In the bathroom, Y/N took the far back stall, telling herself to finish quickly so she could get back to work. But while cleaning herself, she heard echoes of high heels accompanied by the laughter of the previous group of girls. The door next to hers opened and shut, and the water ran as one girl washed her hands.

“Did she leave already?” asked the one in the stall.

“I think so,” said her friend outside.

“Shame. I thought Harry was gonna show up,” the third girl sighed in disappointment as the water stopped. The toilet flushed, heels clacked against the marble, and the water ran again.

“I saw him in the car park once,” continued the third voice. “He came to pick her up. You should’ve seen her bitchy face. No wonder she’s got no friend but the psycho Alice Young.”

Y/N scowled when the first girl chimed in, “Remember Mandy Torres from English Lit?”

The Mandy who’d pretended to be friends with Y/N and then shit-talked about her behind her back? Yes, she remembered.

“So Mandy invited them to her party because she’s a sweetheart. Then that bitch got insecure, thinking Mandy might steal her man, so she blew up at Many in the library, calling her names and stuff. Two people saw it!”

Y/N could bet these girls knew it was a lie, and still, they chose to believe it so they could have a reason to hate her.

Three of them laughed at the same time, and then the second one said, “Can’t believe she still showed her face after that clip.”

“What clip?” her friend asked, sounding just as confused as Y/N.

Her heart was pounding, and her fingers were clawing at her knees. She didn’t know what clip they were referring to. And why shouldn’t she show her face?

Yes, she and Harry had filmed a sex tape before, but they’d been careful and deleted it right after they’d watched it together. It was impossible that the clip still existed and had gotten leaked.

“Oh, you haven’t seen it? This morning, someone uploaded a clip of Harry Styles and Ruby Ellis dancing together at a party in LA. They were all over each other.”

“Oh my God, they’re definitely fucking again!”

“Can you blame him? Would you pick that whore over Ruby Ellis?”

Their laughter faded into white noise, and soon their footsteps had become mute.

Y/N sat there for a long moment, fists balling against her skirt until she was sure she was alone again. That was when she got on her feet, flushed the toilet and clawed the door open.

Her reflection in the mirror caught her by surprise. She almost didn’t recognise herself from how angry she looked. Taking a deep breath, she stomped to the sink to wash her hands and then dried them with a paper towel before going back to her table like nothing was wrong.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see those girls watching her. They whispered something to each other, probably shocked and embarrassed that she’d heard them say all those terrible things behind her back.

The old Y/N would have stepped out of the stall and put them in their place. But the new Y/N — Harry’s Y/N — wouldn’t put on a show in public and take down her boyfriend’s career and her dignity.

“You okay?” Alice asked when Y/N plopped down in the chair across from her.

Y/N flatly said, “yes,” and put on her AirPods to get back to work. No more distraction. Fuck those girls. Fuck the internet. She didn’t need to see that clip to–

Her phone buzzed once, and she flinched. Cece had sent her a post on Instagram.

Now what? Was she going to check it? Her mind went numb for a second as her fingers froze on the keyboards. She kept staring at the blinking cursor until her anxiety became too much, and she surrendered. She grabbed her phone, swiped right on the notification and placed her thumb on the home button to unlock the screen.

Have you seen this?

No, she hadn’t. And she hadn’t intended to until now.

The thumbnail of the video was too dark for her to make out what it was, but the caption said: WHAT HAPPENED TO Y/N??? With shocked emojis. Three shocked emojis. His fans were freaking out for her, so this might not be good.

Biting a nail, she muted the volume and tapped on the clip to be directed to the post. It was dark at first, but when the pink light started flashing, she could make out Harry’s figure. She knew his drunk dance moves; he was definitely three sheets to the wind here. Then, she caught a glimpse of the dress Niall had criticised the other night. Ruby looked just as drunk as she danced next to Harry, shouting the lyrics of whatever song the DJ was playing.

It was hard to know for sure what was happening here as it was too dark, but a part of Y/N felt relieved because she had expected worse. They were just dancing together, their bodies barely touching, and there were so many people around.

“Shit.”

She jerked her head to the side, and Alice’s face almost gave her a heart attack. Alice was standing beside her, one hand on the back of Y/N’s chair, the other lay flat on the table.

“I don’t care what everyone’s saying. It doesn’t look like he’s cheating on you.”

Y/N’s heart beat faster even though she knew Harry would never cheat. Not on her, nor anyone else. She’d seen how he’d beat himself up for sleeping with Ruby despite her having a boyfriend. He’d made mistakes in the past, but he would never hurt a woman by cheating on her.

Maybe the issue didn’t lie in the fact that everyone was saying he had or was going to cheat on Y/N. Maybe seeing him dance with Ruby – at the big fancy party Y/N had refused to attend – made her feel like he would be happier at places like that, with people like that, people like Ruby and his famous friends.

Her chest sank as she finished the thought, but she still managed to set it aside as she closed her laptop and rose from her seat. “Ready to go, Al?”

“Sure, but can I pee first? I need to pee.”

Alice’s grimace made her giggle as she watched her friend rush to the bathroom.

She began to gather her notebooks and chargers when her phone buzzed repeatedly, and when she saw it was Harry, she picked it up. Something told her he’d just woken up, seen the clip and freaked out. He should freak out. Because she’d almost had a heart attack.

She shoved the rest of her things into her bag and hit the talk button.

“I’ve seen the video, so we don’t have to talk about it.”

“Shit,” he grunted. “Are you mad at me? I swear I was drunk and didn’t know who I was dancing with, but Jeff called me a taxi afterwards and–”

“Don’t worry, I’m not mad at you.”

When he let out a sigh, she could almost see him close his eyes and put a hand against his chest. “Where are you?”

“At a coffee shop on campus.” She leaned her hip against the table as she turned and made eye contact with one of the girls in the corner booth. The girl turned back to her friends like nothing was wrong, but Y/N knew the bitch was scared to death. To Harry, she said, “I’m heading home though. I’ll see you at the airport tonight, kay?”

“That...won’t be necessary.”

“What do you mean?” She straightened when realisation hit her. “Harry, where are you?”

“Holmes Chapel.”

She knew it.

“I knew it! I knew you’d go without me.”

“I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t want to involve you in my family drama. I’m going to talk to my mum alone, and then–”

She didn’t want to let him finish. “I’m already involved, though. I could help. You might get anxious and say the wrong things. Look how it went with Gemma.”

When he paused, she knew he knew she was right. Still, his stubborn ass would never admit it. “I’m sorry, babe. At least you can focus on your book while I’m not there. Miss you. See you soon.”

The line disconnected. She stared at the screen in disbelief, and text messages from him popped up.

Forgot to say I love you.

I love you.

With a sigh, she stuffed her phone into the front pocket of her backpack and pinched her temples. She hated that she couldn’t stay mad at him, but she wished he hadn’t blindsided her like that.

Whatever. She’d deal with him when he got back tomorrow.

She shrugged on the backpack just in time Alice returned from the bathroom. Alice clumsily threw her things into her nude tote bag and hurried to the door as Y/N preceded. The moment they stepped out into the street, Alice asked, “Did those Kardashian wannabes bother you when I was in the bathroom?”

She was referring to the girls in the corner booth.

“Why’d you think so?” Y/N responded as she kept on walking.

“I saw them glaring at you when we left, and I almost stopped to throw a fist.” Alice swung her fist and frantically apologized to an annoyed pedestrian for almost hitting him.

“Well, they talked shit about me in the bathroom and didn’t know I was there.” Y/N rolled her eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve poured drinks on them like I did with Mandy.”

Y/N froze in her tracks, her eyes widened. “You did what with Mandy?”

“I heard her talk shit about you at her party so I poured vodka on her head.” Alice clasped both hands together in front of her chest. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

Y/N stared at her friend unblinkingly for a moment, and then crushed her in a fierce embrace. “You’re a good friend, Al. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Laughing, Alice clasped Y/N’s shoulders and pushed away from her. “You’re not going to cry, aren’t you?”

“No, you dick.” She brushed Alice’s hands off. “Lunch?”

“Sure. I’m starving.” With an arm around each other’s waist, they strolled down the busy pavement together.

After lunch in the Vietnamese restaurant right across from Y/N’s block, they ran into Blake outside. He was about to get into his car when he spotted Y/N and waved at her.

This was actually the first time she’d seen him in casual clothes. He always wore suits when he went to work, and workout clothes when he was at home. Today, he wore a black t-shirt with dark blue jeans, his hair uncombed, his smile wide. He looked almost five years younger. Almost like the ‘high school bad boy’ Blake that she remembered.

“Jesus, is that your ex-boyfriend slash neighbour?” Alice dropped her jaw as she fanned herself, and Y/N quickly swatted her on the arm.

Blake rested an arm on the roof of his car as a dimple appeared in his cheek. “Working on a Saturday, Miss Writer?”

“Working everyday, Mr Lawyer.”

Alice elbowed her gently while looking Blake up and down, so she had to add, “This is my friend Alice.”

“Nice to meet you, Alice. I’m Blake.”

Alice caught his hand with both of hers and shook it firmly. “Y/N has said a lot about you.”

“Has she?” Blake arched an eyebrow at Y/N, who scoffed and waved Alice’s comment away.

“Don’t believe her. She’s nuts.”

“Hey!”

Y/N ignored her friend and switched her attention to Blake’s car. He hated driving as much as she did, only because he preferred his motorcycle – which she assumed he’d left in the US – otherwise he would rather walk. And since he didn’t have to work on Saturdays, she took a guess that he was going out of town.

“Where are you going?”

“Holmes Chapel.”

His answer made her flinch. From what she’d heard, his parents didn’t live there anymore. So why would he go there?

“I’m visiting my grandma,” he said before she could ask. “You’ve met her a few times, remember?”

She nodded. His grandma used to love her. After they’d broken up, Y/N had even considered going to his grandma’s house every day so that Grandma Roman would grow attached to her and convince Blake to get back with her. Now she was glad teenage Y/N hadn’t had the nerves to do something so humiliating.

“Y/N, you’re going to Holmes Chapel tomorrow, right?”

Y/N shot Alice a disapproving glare before telling Blake, “Harry and I were gonna go together, but something came up and he had to go without me.”

Had to. Inner Y/N rolled her eyes at the words.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Blake said, but she waved it off.

“Don’t be. Tell your grandma I said hi, okay?”

“Okay. Good luck with your writing.”

Her response was simply a dissatisfied hum. Just thinking about spending another night alone in her flat with her laptop could almost make her go insane. She could go out tonight, but she’d feel guilty because she didn’t have a reason to not write another chapter. If she was surrounded by family and friends, however...

“Blake,” she said before he could get into his car. “Can I go with you?”

When Alice dropped her jaw and Blake’s eyes went wide, she continued, “I can sit in the back. I won’t bother you.”

She'd already braced herself for rejection, knowing how much Blake hated being in a car with other people during long drives, even when he was the passenger. He relished the feeling of an adrenaline rush while riding his motorcycle, and had often joked that he’d felt most alive when he might die. Being in a car confined him. So did the company of someone else. It’d been different when they’d been a couple but they weren’t anymore. Now she was just ‘someone else’ to him.

“Sure, I don’t mind.” He flashed a grin that deepened his dimple and caught her by surprise.

“You don’t have to. I don’t want to make you feel uncomf–”

“I don’t mind driving you, Y/N. Get in.” He patted the roof of his car, and Alice aimed a pointed glare at him as if she hadn’t sighed like a schoolgirl when they shook hands.

Although Y/N understood Alice’s concern and was well aware that she would be spending three hours in the car with her ex, going with him sounded like a better idea than taking a taxi.

She hadn’t sat behind the wheel since the accident and had only let Harry drive her around. But somehow she trusted Blake. She’d trusted him with most of her first times, and being in a relationship with him for two years had convinced her that he was a careful driver.

“Y/N!”

The solitary voice caught her by surprise. She whipped around to see Niall crossing the street and stalking toward her with a bubbly grin on his face.

“Is that Niall Horan?” Alice unconsciously dug her nail into Y/N's arm, and Y/N winced as she pulled away.

“What are you doing here, Niall?”

“I had a photoshoot in this area and I thought we should hang out. You know, since we’re officially friends now.” He raked his fingers through his hair and arched his mouth when he noticed Blake. “Hey, man.”

Blake only raised his palm, saying nothing.

“This is Alice,” Y/N said as she gripped Alice’s hard shoulders. “She’s a big fan of yours, so please be nice to her.”

"Nice to meet you," Niall said. "Alice is a pretty name."

When he took Alice's hand and pressed a kiss to it, Y/N thought her friend would just pass out right in front of them. Alice might be bold with Blake, Isaac, and even Harry, but facing Niall, she suddenly forgot how to speak. Which might be a good thing because she said crazy things when she was nervous, and Y/N couldn’t handle more crazy right now.

“I’m sorry, Niall. I’m actually leaving.”

“Oh, where are you going?”

“We’re going to Holmes Chapel,” Blake answered on her behalf, still leaning against his car. He didn’t seem frustrated that she and her friends were wasting his time, and she truly wondered why.

Niall turned back to her with an eyebrow raised. “Weren’t you going with Harry tomorrow?”

“Apparently not,” she huffed. “But don’t worry. I’ll text him to let him know.”

“I can give you a ride.”

Niall pointed to the black Audi parked on the other side of the street. A man in a black suit, buzzed head, twice her size, gave them a cold stare as Niall waved and smiled at him.

“That’s Barry. He’s cool.”

She took a surprised breath, considering Barry for a quick second. “I think I’ll be fine with Blake.”

She would have agreed to go with Niall in a heartbeat, if there was just Niall, and he was driving a less luxurious vehicle. She could already imagine how badly her body would ache when they arrived, as she wouldn’t dare to move a single muscle in his new car, especially when Barry was the one who drove it.

“Okay.” Niall gave a nonchalant shrug as he fished out his phone and made a quick call. “Hey, man.” He gave the scary man across the street a peace sign. “I’ll stay with my friend. You may leave now. Thanks, Barry.”

Y/N watched Niall’s bodyguard/chauffeur get into the shiny Audi, not knowing what to expect when Niall put his phone away and switched his attention back to her.

“Let’s go.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “What do you mean?”

“I’m going with you,” he said with a smirk, “and Blake.”

“Can I come, too, please?” Alice interjected as she tugged Y/N’s arm. “I’ll be quiet as a mouse, you won’t even know I’m there.”

“I’m not the one who gets to decide here, Al,” Y/N grumbled.

“Alice and Niall can join us,” Blake interfered, at last. “The more the merrier.”

When Alice started bouncing like a kid in a sweet shop, he mouthed it’s okay to Y/N, and she responded with an apologetic twitch of her lips that was meant to be a smile. If he was only acting to be polite to her friends, she’d feel so shitty.

Blake opened the door on the passenger side for her, but Niall quickly got in and buckled his seatbelt. With a sigh, she joined Alice in the backseat. Something told her that this was going to be the longest three hours she had ever experienced.

Gemma tightened her fingers around her phone. With one hand in her hair, she kept pacing back and forth in her hotel room, the beating of her heart accelerating with each ring. She hated phone calls. There was something so nerve-wracking about talking to someone and not knowing what their true reaction was. However, she knew Asher wouldn’t hold anything back.

When you’d been with someone for two years, you’d figure out their patterns. You could predict what they were going to say or do in a certain situation. And she wished it hadn’t been the case this time as what she was expecting was pretty awful.

She’d always considered Asher’s bad temper a minor flaw, but it hadn’t been easy lately. His business was going down. His dad had decided to stop pouring money into his failed ventures, which was why he’d been spending so much time with his family. He wanted to be on his father’s good side while sweet-talking his mother into helping him.

He was a mama’s boy, like Harry. The only difference was that Harry genuinely loved his family and would never blame Gemma for his own mistakes. Asher, on the other hand, took his exasperation out on her, making her feel like she’d been the cause of all of the bad things that’d happened to him in the last couple of months. She’d been walking on eggshells around him, well aware of how toxic that was, but the idea of ending a two-year relationship was too intimidating.

The ringing abruptly stopped. And so did she.

“Yes?” Asher spoke. He hadn’t heard from her in two days, and that was all she got from him. Yes?

“I have to tell you something,” she said anyway, trying to sound more composed than she looked. Perhaps a phone call was a good idea after all.

“I also have something to tell you. Can I go first?”

“Sure.” As much as she wanted to get this off her chest, the more she delayed, the more time there was to prepare herself for his reaction. She’d never seen anyone confess to their partner that they’d cheated and receive instant forgiveness, not even in movies. It definitely wouldn’t be the case for her and Asher.

“I think we should take a break.”

Her brain slowed down, unable to process that information. Her mouth opened and shut a few times like a goldfish until she could speak. “What do you mean?”

She knew exactly what a break meant. She just couldn’t bring herself to believe he’d actually proposed it, at least not before she told him about the kiss.

“I want us to stop seeing each other for a while.”

“We haven’t seen each other in weeks, Ash.”

“Come on, Gem, you know this is inevitable. We’ve been fighting constantly.” Yes. Because of him. “And I can’t remember the last time we had sex.”

“So you’re suggesting that we take a break so you could fuck other people?”

A long stretch of silence followed her question. Waves of anger splashed over her as she gripped the phone so tightly her knuckles turned white. She couldn’t believe she’d been so scared to tell him the truth, and then he’d proposed something like this without any sign of guilt.

“We both need this, Gem.”

“You’re right. We do,” she said despite the lump in her throat. “Goodbye, Ash.”

She ended the call before he could say another word and rushed to open the window. She needed some fresh air, otherwise, she might throw up.

Gripping the sides of the window frame, she took in a sharp breath. When she opened her eyes again, she saw a familiar Prius parked in front of the building. It looked like the one in Harry’s car collection, but wasn’t he in Holmes Chapel right now?

She’d gotten her answer as soon as the door was opened, and Isaac stepped out, phone in his hand. When he brought it up to his ear, her phone started buzzing, and she instantly grabbed it and tapped answer.

“Hello?”

“I’m here. Let’s go,” he said.

“What?”

“I’m driving you, remember?”

“Driving me where?”

“To Holmes Chapel.” His soft laugh melted the coldness remaining in her heart from the phone call with Asher. After an awkward pause, he said, “Oh shit, didn’t Harry tell you? He asked me to pick you up.”

She shook her head even though he couldn’t see. “I said I’d take the train.”

“You don’t have to. Your mum asked me to come for dinner and I just needed a reason to get out of town.”

Something told her Harry hadn’t asked him to pick her up, and she hated how good that made her feel.

When the thought of Asher crossed her mind, she snapped out of her fantasy. This wasn’t right. She was a hypocrite for being angry at Asher and then having butterflies thinking about her brother’s best friend. Clearly she wasn’t going to sit in a car with Isaac for three hours after what she’d done.

“Come on, Gem. We don’t have to talk about it.”

It.

He couldn’t even say the word. Her kiss must have disgusted him. She’d forced herself on him, and he was still nice enough to offer to drive her. He was only doing this because he was nice, because he was Isaac, not because he had feelings for her. Why would she want him to have feelings for her, anyway? She was still with Asher. Kind of. And she would eventually have to tell him that she’d cheated on him and then beg for his forgiveness.

Now that she thought about it, she believed she deserved this. She needed to start acting like a grown woman and dared to face what she’d done.

“Okay, give me a minute,” she told Isaac.

“All right.” A grin could be heard in his voice before the call disconnected. She sighed roughly, tucked her phone into the pocket of her jeans as she gathered essential things and quickly headed out.

When Isaac saw her walk toward him from the building, his first instinct was to shove his hands in the pockets of his trench coat, giving her a smile so courteous that it made her skin crawl. He loved giving and receiving hugs, but he didn’t do it with her anymore because she’d crossed the line.

He opened the door on the passenger side for her, and she got into his car, buckled her seatbelt as he got behind the wheel. The door was closed, muffling the traffic noise, and she could hear the pulse in her throat loud and clear.

She had to say something.

“What happened to the Range Rover?”

“Oh, this one’s Harry’s,” he said, his voice casual as he started the engine and drove back onto the street. “He lent it to Emilia so she could go to a movie audition. She asked me to return it.”

The nervousness was washed away by irritation as her face screwed up. “He lends her his cars now? Harry is anal about letting people drive his babies.”

“He did lend it to her. I asked him,” Isaac said with a shrug. “He said she’s basically family now.”

“I need to slap him when I see his stupid face.”

“And I need to watch that. Maybe film it, too,” he chuckled, eyes on the road.

She allowed a goofy smile to play on her lips, which vanished as she started to analyse what he’d said. “Did you meet Emilia today?”

“We did a photoshoot. She’s my new model.”

“Oh,” she said, unsure how she wanted that one word to sound.

Before she could dwell on the idea of him and Emilia, he broke the silence. “Harry said you’d asked him to go alone, but then you changed your mind. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah.” She tucked a strand behind her ear, fighting the urge to look at the side of his face as they talked. “I wanted him to fix the mess that he’d started, but then I realised he was an idiot and would most likely mess things up even more.”

That wasn’t the reason. Harry was no longer the careless kid who randomly brought up Winton and made their mum cry without knowing it. He was an adult and would figure out a sensible way to talk to their mum about Winton and Emilia. So why did Gemma insist on going home?

It took a moment’s thought for her to realise she’d done this out of guilt, and maybe desperation, too. She felt bad about forcing her brother to do the hard work, and at the same time, needed the safety of her family to escape from the stress her relationship had put upon her. She wished she could tell Isaac everything, but she didn’t want to make this trip about her.

“Are you mad at me?” His question brought her back to reality. Only then did she realise they had left the city and were heading onto a country road between large green fields. “Gem, are you mad at me?”

Her heart skipped a beat as she began to fidget with her handbag on her lap. He’d promised that they wouldn’t talk about the kiss. Did he lie to get her into this car?

“No, I’m not.” She winced at how forceful that sounded.

“Are you sure?”

“You said we didn’t have to talk about it,” she snapped and stiffened in her seat when he darted a quick glance her way before focusing on the road again.

He swallowed once. “I just don’t want us to be awkward with each other, Gem.”

“You’re right.” She lowered her face and scratched the tip of her nose. “I’m sorry for what I did. I wasn’t thinking.”

“I know why you did it.”

He did?

“You had a fight with your boyfriend and you were confused, right?”

“No, I–” She paused, feeling overwrought. “Why aren’t you upset? You should be angry at me.”

“No, I shouldn’t.”

“Yes, you should!” She almost turned and sat upright if it wasn’t for the seatbelt holding her back. “I kissed you when you didn’t want to be kissed. You should be angry.”

“Gemma,” the sound of her name vibrated with his warm laughter, and she felt her body melting into the leather seat. “I kissed you back, so I’m equally guilty here.”

Had he kissed her back? She couldn’t recall. The comforting scent of his cologne accompanied by the shock and guilt must have dulled her senses. But if he had kissed her back, did it mean he’d wanted her, too?

“Don’t worry,” he said after stealing another glance at her. “I know you’re in a long-term relationship. And I don’t want to mess it up, so let’s pretend it never happened. I think you weren’t aware that you were kissing me. I mean, someone like you would never kiss me.”

“Someone like me?” Her gaze jumped to the side of his face. “What does that mean?”

Thinking she was offended, he awkwardly explained, “That...that was meant to be a compliment. You’re a strong and independent woman. You’re smart, beautiful, funny–”

“Pull over,” she said, her heart pounding in her ears.

A glimpse of horror crossed his face as he faltered, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“Pull over, Isaac.” Her voice was strained, her eyes intense. The car reached a standstill on the side of the road, and her mind was spiralling out of control as she unbuckled her seatbelt and launched herself across the gearshift. She was on his lap, arms wrapped around his neck.

His body was stiff as a board when he dropped his gaze to her mouth, making her wonder if he’d been thinking about her since they’d kissed. She knew she had. The memory made her lips tingle as if he’d kissed them again. She wanted him to kiss them again.

They brought their mouths together at the same time. His hands claimed her face to deepen the kiss, and euphoria shocked through her system as she kissed him harder. She fisted the fabric at his chest, pulling him closer while his hands swept down her back, squeezing her hips. In that moment, when they were alone on the empty road surrounded by windy green fields, something that was meant to be wrong, felt like the rightest thing she had ever done.

Harry had been waiting on the porch since he’d gotten the text message from Y/N. His mum had told him to wait inside, but watching the street somehow made time fly faster. Or so he hoped.

He rested his elbows on his knees, face between his palms, unconsciously tapping his right foot. He did deserve this. He’d blindsided her and now she was making him pay by going home with her ex. Fuck that lawyer kid. Who did he think he was? If there hadn’t been Niall and Alice, Harry would have driven all the way back to London to pick her up.

Twenty minutes felt like two hours as he waited, and when he spotted a car from a distance, he immediately bounced onto his feet. But it was Isaac and Gemma in his black Prius, not his Bambi.

“Wow, aren’t you excited to see me?” Gemma sneered as she stepped out of the vehicle and walked towards him.

Isaac greeted Harry with a hug, and Harry pulled away and nodded his head toward Gemma. “You didn’t have to drive her, you know. I could’ve picked her up at the station.”

Silent, Gemma thinned her lips as Isaac rubbed the back of his head. Why were they acting so awkward? Had Harry said something wrong?

“I know what’s going on here.” Harry put his hands on his hips and narrowed his eyes at both of them. “You’re mad at me for lending Emi my car.”

Gemma’s shoulders dipped as she let out a sigh. “Even that name irritates me.”

“Oh, come on, Gem.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her to his chest, but she pushed him away. “That one is my least favourite,” he said, pointing to the Prius.

A corner of her lips quirked up as she brushed past him. “And you’re my least favourite person.”

Isaac tossed him the key and followed her, but before they made it to the porch, another car entered their street. Harry’s Bambi was here.

“My Bambi’s here!” he squealed like a little kid, making Gemma snort.

“Wait, Smiley’s here?”

“It’s weird that you still call her that, but yeah, Niall’s here, too,” he told Isaac and stalked toward the car which had pulled over in front of his house.

Niall got out first, stretching his limbs before pulling Harry in for an embrace. “You owed me, Harold.”

“I know. Thanks, mate.” Harry let go of Niall to hug Alice. “Didn’t know you were coming.”

“I didn’t either, but here I am. Lovely neighbourhood!” Alice lifted her shoulders as she adjusted the strap of her bag and then lowered her voice to almost a whisper, “Niall’s single, right?”

“Al! What are you whispering about?”

Harry’s gaze jumped to Y/N, who had finished saying goodbye to Blake. When Blake saw him, the kid raised a palm and a smile which looked fake as hell, but Harry managed to keep his calm and returned one just as plastic.

Y/N walked around the car and threw herself into Harry’s arms, holding his face and kissing his lips. He held her flat against him as he kissed her harder. He could hear Niall making a gagging noise, but he didn’t care as long as he got to rub this in Blake’s face. Because he was as mature as a nine-year-old, and he was fine with it.

“Stop eating her face, pervert.”

Gemma’s comment broke him and Y/N apart. He flipped his sister off and, with a smug look on his face, watched Blake’s car drive ahead and disappear at the end of the road. A swat on the chest made his eyes jump back to Y/N.

“You’re in so much trouble, Harry.” Her nose wrinkled, and he wondered if she knew how cute she looked when she made that face. He cupped her cheeks and kissed her forehead when Gemma took their friends into the house.

“I’m sorry, babe. Why didn’t you text me sooner?” he said with a pout. “You waited until you were almost here to tell me you were coming.” With fucking Blake.

“Well, I knew you were going to wait on the porch. Couldn’t make you wait for three hours.”

His heart fluttered as he pressed a kiss to her temple. “You know me so well, kid.”

“I’m still pretty mad at you,” she said. “But I do have a lot to tell you about.”

“About your book?”

She smiled and nodded. He released a relieved sigh as he brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “I was afraid that you’d be mad at me. The clip and everything.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Would you prefer that I’m mad at you?”

“No.” He shook his head and pecked her lips then either corner of it. “I’m a bad boyfriend. I should’ve driven you, not your stupid ex. Thank God for Niall and Alice.”

“Niall was even worse than you,” she giggled.

He nuzzled her neck, tilting her head up to press a series of kisses to her jaw. When his hands swept from her back to her spine, she snatched his wrists and pinned them to his chest. The way she arched an eyebrow and clicked her tongue made his cock swell against the fly of his pants. When her pupils dilated, he knew she felt it, but she didn’t acknowledge it and gave him a chaste kiss on the lips before pulling away.

“I have to say hi to Marcy and Dad. I’ll come over later, kay?”

“Tell them to join us for dinner.” He tugged her arm, not letting her go just yet. “Bradford and I can bond over our hatred for Blake. It’ll be fun.”

“I’m sure he’d love to come, consider how much he loves Isaac.”

“Damn it,” he cursed when she burst out laughing and cupped his face to kiss him twice on the cheeks. With a lovesick smile, he watched her pad across her front yard and waited until she’d gone into her house to finally return to his.

His mother was so happy to have so many guests that night. She’d cooked a big meal for everyone. Even Bradford and Marcy came to join them. Just like Harry’s promise, he and Bradford had bonded over their same intense dislike for Blake Roman. Y/N had to stuff their mouths with spaghetti so they would stop talking. Alice had won Niall over with her review about the first book she’d read in her life, and now Niall was reading the first book in his life. Weird, but cute.

What was even weirder, however, was to see his sister being so close with Isaac. They’d been whispering back and forth the whole night, and not once did Gemma mention Asher. Harry didn’t like Asher that much so he didn’t mind, and it was good to see Gemma happy again. He hadn’t seen her smile that big before. His mum, too.

His heart sank to the bottom of his chest as he remembered the reason they were all here. He had to tell his mum about Winton.

She would be so disappointed. She might even cry. And this dinner, all of these jokes, all this laughter would mean nothing when she heard about Winton and Emilia. Harry hated to be the reason the women he loved cry. But if he didn’t tell his mum, and she found out herself, he’d be the shittiest son in the world. This would hurt either way, one less than the other.

Dinner was over soon. While everyone gathered in the living room for a game, Harry and Gemma volunteered to clean up. Just like when they were kids, they did something wrong and volunteered to do the housework so the chance of them being forgiven would be higher. Harry knew what he’d done wrong. He didn’t know why Gemma was here.

“They’re playing Scrabble.”

The voice made him flinch before two arms wrapped around his waist, pulling her body toward his. Y/N tiptoed to kiss his neck, and he giggled like a little boy. Gemma gave them a funny look but didn’t say a word because she, and everyone else, was already used to their public affection.

“Let’s wait until tomorrow morning,” she told Harry, and his face screwed up.

“And ruin Mum’s entire Sunday?”

“Well, would you prefer that she stay up all night?”

“I agree with Gemma, baby.” Y/N tightened her grip around his waist, resting her cheek against his back. She felt so small pressed against him like this, and since he’d gone two days without fucking, the thought of holding her up against the wall and spreading her open with his arms beneath her knees was enough to turn his balls blue. He would make that fantasy a reality if Gemma weren’t here, and they weren’t one door away from the only group of people whose opinions about them mattered.

“Okay, tomorrow then,” he said and turned on the tap to wash his hands.

“Alice will sleep with me tonight,” Y/N said. “Niall or Isaac can use our guest room.”

“I’ll sacrifice Niall. Your guest room is shit, and I love Isaac a bit more than Niall.”

She pinched his side and he jumped, but her arms forced his body still.

“I’ll let Gemma pick then,” he said.

“What?” Gemma asked, distracted.

“Isaac and Niall,” he raised a smirk. “One will have to sleep in Y/N’s shitty guest room. One stays here with us.”

“It’s not shitty,” Y/N said in a protesting tone.

“Babe, I saw a rat the last time we had se—”

She smacked a hand over his mouth before he could finish the sentence. As Gemma rolled her eyes at them, he plucked Y/N’s fingers off his face and told his sister, “Go ahead. You pick.”

She opened her mouth. For a second, he thought she was going to answer, but then she released a huff and said, “I’m not doing this with you children.”

“Children?!” He dropped his jaw as she stalked out of the kitchen. Y/N dissolved into laughter as he spun around, took each of her arms and draped it over his shoulder.

A smile played on her lips, and she asked, “Do you wanna join them or go on a date with me?”

“Oooh, where is this date?”

“The cemetery.”

His face went blank for a second as she stifled a laugh. “Just kidding.” She pinched his cheeks. “I’m going to see my mum. You coming?”

“Why does it have to be now?”

“Are you coming or not?”

He was so whipped he would have gone without knowing it was the cemetery. “Fine. But if we see a ghost, I’m leaving you behind.”

She laughed and shoved him away, and they raced each other to the living room. They told everyone that they’d go out for a walk. And as he escorted her to the door, Niall and Alice started clapping and cheering, and Gemma tossed a pillow at Niall to get him to shut up.

There wasn’t a particular reason that Y/N had chosen to plan a cemetery visit at this hour. She simply enjoyed strolling around town in the night as much as Harry did. When he was a teenager, he used to bring one of his dates to the field behind his house, and they had taken long walks under the night sky and made out in his car afterward.

He’d thought it’d been the most romantic experience in his life, until two years ago, when they’d visited her mother’s grave together. That was when he’d realised the cemetery could be romantic. Everything turned romantic when he was with her.

So if she wanted to walk around a graveyard at one in the morning, he would blindly follow, no questions asked.

After finding a safe parking spot, they walked to the tall iron gate that looked like the set of a Hitchcock movie. No one had bothered to polish it since the last time they’d been here, and he guessed no one intended to anyway.

Just like the last time, she snuck through an opening in the fence to get into the cemetery, and he tagged after, his heart thumping loudly. They’d better get to share a cell if they got arrested for trespassing.

It was a little foggy at 1 AM. The air was cold and the grass was damp. They padded across a desolate lot and were careful not to get their shoes dipped into the mud. As they followed the brick pathway, he negotiated his way around the gravestones, trying to keep up because she was walking too fast, like a ghost. The thought made him shiver. Probably not the best comparison to make when they were literally in a cemetery.

After a five minute walk, they finally arrived. Her mother’s headstone stood erect, bathed in light spilt from the ashen moon. Seeing the fresh flowers on the grave, Harry assumed Bradford had just visited his wife today. Y/N had told Harry that her dad came here every week to trim the grass and clean the stone. It was nice how much things had changed since their last visit.

As she squatted down to rearrange the flowers, Harry spotted a newly dug grave nearby and pointed to it, grinning. “Your mum’s getting a new neighbour.”

Y/N put a finger to her lips and shushed him. “Don’t disrespect the dead! They’ll come for you tonight!”

He scoffed at the threat, but as a cold breeze whisked right through his clothes, he immediately cowered to her side, and she doubled over, almost choking on her own laughter.

After giving her mother updates on her book and his Oscar nomination, Y/N kissed her fingers, pressed them against the moonwashed stone and bid her mother goodbye. They followed the same path weaved around tombstones to go back to the opening between the fence. With a feeling of being watched, Harry kept looking behind him as he clung onto Y/N like she was his weapon.

“Don’t look back,” she said. “My mum is following us.”

The shadow of a smile on her lips almost got him running for his life. He swore he’d never do this with her again, knowing for a fact that he would, if she only asked.

Once they returned to their parking spot, they retrieved two cans of Coca-Cola from Y/N’s bag and lay on their backs on the bonnet of his car to watch the stars. His adrenaline from their stroll across the cemetery was finally washed away as he listened to her ranting about her new book.

He wasn’t a writer so he wasn’t qualified to give her any advice. He mostly just listened, and because he knew Y/N didn’t want people’s advice. She vent her frustrations to feel better for a while, and most likely would end up doing whatever felt right to her.

Soon the topic of work bored her out. She extended a hand toward the sky and closed her fingers around nothing as if she was grasping the stars.

“Have you read The Little Prince?”

The random question put a smile to his lips. “The book Alice and Niall couldn’t shut up about during dinner?”

“Yeah.”

He took her hand that was in the air and brought it to his mouth so he could kiss her knuckles. “I have. Why?”

“My mum read it to me when I was little,” she said. “I used to wish I’d lived on the little prince’s tiny planet. All you needed to do was move your chair a few steps and you could see the night sky whenever you liked. We could live in this same moment, over and over again.”

“And never grow older,” his voice softened, and she replied with a quiet hum.

“Wouldn’t that be great?”

He cocked his head to the side and met her softened gaze. But then a hint of worry washed out that dreamy haze, and a line appeared between her brows.

“Do you sometimes wish I was cooler?”

That was a big shift from the story of the little prince. Surprised, he squeezed her fingers gently. “What do you mean? You’re always cool.”

“I mean, cool like...like your friends cool.” She huffed in frustration as she didn’t know how to properly get her point across, but he’d already figured it out.

“You should’ve told me the clip still bothers you,” he said with a frown, and the way she pursed her lips confirmed his speculations. “Bambi…”

“We used to have a lot in common when we were kids.” Her bottom lips trembled as her breaths quickened. “Now our lives are so different. And I’m fine with it, and I know you are too because we love each other. But sometimes it feels like…” She stalled, and with no intention of finishing that sentence, dropped her gaze to her hand in his. “I wish I fit better in your life, so when people see us together they’d just accept it without questioning why.”

“Why do you care what they think, Bambi?”

She bit her bottom lip, thinking for a second. “I’m trying not to. It’s hard.”

A smile stretched his lips as he leaned in, stroked his thumb across her cheek and kissed her mouth lightly. Her lashes fluttered when he pulled away.

“The little prince has a flower, right?” he asked.

“Yes, he has a rose,” she said with a pensive expression. “The only one on his planet.”

He nodded once. “If I remember correctly, she’s a very beautiful flower. She shows off her thorns and puts on a superior attitude, but is actually a sensitive little thing and doesn’t like to expose her vulnerability.”

“Oh no, I’m the flower,” she gasped, making him chuckle.

He brushed her hair out of her face and went on, “When the prince comes to the earth, he finds himself in a garden with hundreds of roses, all as gorgeous as the one he loves.”

She continued for him, “But he still thinks his rose is unique and more important than all of the other roses together.”

“Yes.” He propped himself up on an elbow to lie on his side. “And why is that?”

“Because he loves her, and he knows she loves him, too,” she said while caressing his face with the back of her hand.

“That’s right.” He nodded again. “Most people think the prince is stupid for travelling from planet to planet for a rose, but he doesn’t care what they think. No matter where he is, he always thinks about his little flower. He fell in love with her when he was little and has spent his whole life watering and caring for her. Love comes from investing in other people, isn’t it?”

Her smile widened as she combed her fingers through his hair, and her cheeks bloomed with colours when she drew him in and kissed him deeply. He melted from the intensity of her lips as his hands smoothed down her arm, squeezed her behind, and pulled her as close as he could. The hardness of his body against her softness. Adrenaline coursed through his veins. The butterflies in his stomach. He was spiralling out of control.

“I’m crazy about you,” he muttered against her lips and threaded his fingers in her locks. “I don’t care how different we are. When I first said I love you, I promised I’d stay. So I’m yours as long as you still want me, Bambi.”

The corners of her eyes crinkled as she wrapped her arms around his neck and nuzzled his cheek. “I want you forever. Can you handle that?”

He drew her closer, and their bodies came flush together. “Forever and ever, baby,” he said before kissing her again.

#my girl series

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crimson-wrld · 3 years

Text

Caged

Helloo my name on here is Crimson, you can call me that or Z. I found the whump community recently, it's always something I've enjoyed but just recently found the name for on a random check-in to Tumblr lol. I've followed a lot of cool blogs and done my fair share of lurking and reblogging before I decided now is the time to share one of my writings. I have also been thinking about making a new whump story, just for my tumblr here and maybe posting drabbles too.

I write a story over on Wattpad (lol) that is very whumpy and this is a snippet of my most recent chapter. Now here is some context because this is from chapter 38 meaning there are a lot of characters and I felt like it sounded better without changing them to their respective roles, so I hope it's not confusing.

The backstory is that the whumpees are being held in captivity by the whumpers. The whumpers are watching back a video of the narrator whumpee from the night before while making the whumpees serve them. Lucas did not know what happened and gets distracted by a part of the video, which is where this starts.

Whumpers (nicknamed) - Hardhead, Vicious, Baldy, Chip, Sasquatch, Crazy

Whumpees - Talon (narrator, also referred to as Mutt), Lucas (also referred to as Runt)

Caretaker - Sebastian (is a romantic partner to Talon the narrator)

((I've never done this before so I'm not totally sure how to write the CW and tags but I'm trying. Just know that this is heavy writing))

CW: brief implied past noncon, brief noncon mentions, past noncon drugging mention, brief slut-shaming language, captivity, choking, manhandling, hair pulling, claustrophobia, sensory deprivation, multiple whumpers, multiple whumpees, dehumanization, suffocation, stress position, collared, restraints, muzzled/gagged, blood, sleep deprivation, hallucinations, thinking they're going to die (please let me know if I missed anything)

"This is my favourite part!" I hear Hardhead exclaim loudly, then the tv becomes louder, so blaringly loud that it sounds like I have my ear flush against one of those really big box speakers. Lucas continues grabbing a case of beer from the fridge but we both turn our heads toward the tv at the sudden volume change.

It's the part where the drug kicks in and Hardhead has me on his lap facing the tripod camera, hand squeezing the life out of my neck. I can hear myself desperately struggling for air, trying to plead for help, something... for it all to stop- but the drug turns my words into mush. I can see it from another perspective this time, I can see my face losing colour and the sort of foggy memories of it come flooding back.

Then I see his hand trail down my stomach. My arms are weakly flailing out and trying to pull his other hand off of my neck. Then his hands are on my privates and in real life, I look away from the tv. Tears are falling down my face as I hear him verbally teasing me on the video, calling me a whore and laughing at me as I try to breathe. I was so drugged I don't even remember that.

"I bet you like that, dirty whore, don't you?" I hear him say. I start to bring my hands up to cover my ears.

The sound of a gasp and shattering glass fills the room and I jerk my head up to Lucas. He's holding the fridge door open and is staring at the tv, mouth agape and face horrified. It's like a train wreck- he just can't look away. The pack of beer he was holding is on the floor, bottles now in a million pieces scattered around, beer puddling in the tiles and spreading all over the place.

"Shit," I say, staring wide-eyed at the mess on the floor.

"What the fuck was that?!" Vicious yells from the living room.

Lucas snaps out of it then, looking down at the foam bubbles and liquid and glass all culminating together.

"Oh no--- What do I do?!" He whispers, voice cracking in panic. My heart is pounding in my chest harder now. Without much thought, I make a hasty decision.

"Don-don't worry-- I'll take the blame," I say, stepping closer to the broken box so it seems more believable. I hear the couch creaking and steps nearing the kitchen.

I just don't want to see him get hurt.

"Wait don--" Lucas starts to say but falls silent when Hardhead and Vicious walk through the door.

I can hear Hardheads voice echoing in my head, "Rule four; listen. Do what I say. If you don't, I'll punish you- if you make a mistake ill punish you too."

I know I've only known him for about two days, and the situation is deathly far from ideal, but I kind of see him as like a little brother, and I feel the strong obligation to protect him from these terrible terrible fucking people.

"What the hell are you two dogs doing in here?" Hardhead yells, looking down and seeing the mess between our feet. "Which one of you bitches did that?" He yells louder, his face getting angrier.

They take their beer really seriously.

Before Lucas can say anything I look Hardhead in the face and speak in my still semi-croaky voice, "I- I did it. I'm sorry Master." I say bowing my head after.

Lucas looks at me with wide worried eyes speaking, "No! I--"

"Shut the fuck up Runt! Go grab a mop and clean this shit up." Hardhead demands. Lucas brokenly stares between me and Hardhead. I can see the guilt on his face.

Viscous taps his foot, grumbling, "Do it now, Runt."

Lucas looks back at me again, and I give him a nod of encouragement. He frowns and reluctantly leaves to grab the stuff to clean.

"Now Mutt, you sit." Vicious instructs, hooking his finger through the collar loop and pulling me down, letting go when I allow myself to fall to my knees the rest of the way. I feel some of the glass slice into my knees and legs and I hiss, not daring to move though.

"I'm sorry Master's- it just, just slipped," I plead, seeing if I can maybe lessen whatever this punishment is going to be.

Hardhead chuckled evilly, "Oh you're gonna be sorry." He crossed his arms over his chest and takes a single step forward. Lucas gets back into the kitchen now, keeping his eyes trained to the floor as he starts sweeping some of the glass from the floor a little further away.

"Nevermind that for now Runt. Let's have a show. There's something I've been wanting to try for a while now. This is the perfect teaching moment..." he says creeping right up next to me. He grabbed me by my hair tightly and pulled me awkwardly behind him into the living room where the rest of the men are still finishing the rest of the video. Vicious follows closely behind, tugging Lucas by the arm.

I rub my head when he lets go and tosses me to the floor. I hit the ground with a groan, the wounds on my chest bursting with pain, quickly scrambling to get on to my knees though, so I don't get in more trouble. I remember they like me in this position when I got into trouble before.

I whimper when I feel the glass in my knees push in deeper, and I try to pull as much as I can out when they turn away. I manage to get most of it out and I hold my hands over the wounds with pressure to hopefully stop the bleeding.

"Tie him up please," Hardhead says to Vicious, louder than the rest of the conversation. Then he opens the door to the basement and quickly disappears down the stairs.

Vicious smirks, saying, "Don't mind if I do." He opens up a drawer of a dresser on a wall nearby and pulls out a few bundles of rope. They keep that stuff everywhere- because they're sadists.

He stalks toward me until he's behind me, and he shoves me onto my stomach. I reflexively put my arms out in front of me so they don't get crushed and see there's now blood smeared on my hands- more than I expected.

Vicious planted one of his knees on my back to keep me down and the other knee on one side of my body to trap me even more. He grabbed my arms and forced them behind my back. I grit my teeth when he tightly ties new ropes over the deep wounds from yesterday's ones. Then he takes hold of my elbows and jerks them closer together. I gasp and let out a surprised yelp. This would hurt regardless; because elbows are not supposed to bend that way, but it also brings my injured shoulder into an extremely uncomfortable position. I squirm and struggle without even realizing, kicking my feet slightly and raising my head, mouth open in a silent cry of anguish.

All I really notice is Lucas onlooking the scene with a deep frown, twiddling his fingers before a hand tangles in my hair and shoves my face into the rug on the floor.

"Calm it down there, doggy," Crazy laughs, pushing my head down more than should even be possible. The shag rug tickles the side of my face and I squeeze my eyes shut as I feel more rope wrap around my elbows. They pull taught, but not touching, and only because I'm not flexible enough to do that, because if I could, Vicious would have done it. There's no slack though, the rope is so tight that I can't move my arms apart at all, and he tied the space in the middle too, so I couldn't try to move them closer either. It's very uncomfortable, and my shoulder throbs harshly. Involuntary whimpers escape my lips. The men find that funny.

Then the knee on my back disappears, Crazy keeps his hold on my head, and I feel hands reappear on my legs, tying just above the bend of my knees and then my ankles too. I can't stop focusing on how tight the bonds are.

Once Vicious finishes, Crazy lets go of my head, and grasps me from under my arms, lifting me back up and positioning me back on my knees like a kid playing with a Barbie doll. I let out a long breath of resignation. My hair is now a mess on top of my head and hanging in my face, reminding me of the bed head Sebastian says is so cute on me.

Hardhead comes back upstairs with a tote bag in hand. He must've gone down there to gather the stuff for whatever he wanted to try. The fact that it was something he wanted to try out scared me more, because I had no idea what it could possibly be.

He closed the basement door and walked a few steps toward another door about three feet down the wall. He opens it up and reveals something that makes my heart drop.

It's a cage.

A metal wired dog cage, only big enough to fit a medium-sized dog. It's rectangular, and the roof is short, way too cramped for a human.

I start freaking out, tugging against the ropes and jerking my body around, struggling futilely to get away.

"No, wait!" I cry as Hardhead starts walking toward me. I struggle more, tears falling down my face, trying to tilt backward but Vicious and Crazy hold me down in my place.

"This is what happens when you fuck up," Vicious says evilly, and I look around the room desperately, like there's anything I can do. The men are amused, and joking amongst each other, clinking beers and watching the scene unfold. I look to Lucas, and he's crying too; silent tears, pooling from his brown eyes. They're filled with so much guilt.

"I'll do i-" He starts to say, but when I realize what he's doing I cut him off.

"It's fine Lucas!" I shout panicked and wide-eyed. That's one thing I'm not going back on; I don't want him to get hurt.

When I speak Vicious violently backhands me, so hard that my head snaps to the side and I sob out.

"Shut up." He growls, then he tightly grips my jaw and straightens my face out so I'm looking forward at Hardhead instead of at Lucas, holding me there.

Hardhead comes toward us, dumping the contents of the bag onto the floor. It's a random assortment of things and I don't like any of them. Among those things is a muzzle- a fucking muzzle. My heart just pounds harder and harder, the tears just fall faster.

Hardhead crouches in front of me, right up close into my space. He reaches behind my neck and grabs hold of the collar. He unclasps the back piece and I almost feel a breath of relief coming until he pulls it tighter.

"This is an extra punishment for escaping," he says pulling it tighter and fumbling with it until he fastened it closed, "I'd say about two more notches is good, for now."

I feel my breath escape me, it becomes even more of a chore to breathe in-- it's miserable. I hate the feeling of being manhandled like this, having to let them touch me, feeling so helpless... no control.

I just want Sebastian to hold me and tell me it will all be okay.

Hardhead picks up a bag of cotton balls from the pile on the floor and he stuffs a few of them deep into my left ear. I try to pull away but Viscious just tightens his hold and corrects me the way they want me. The sound in the room distorts, everything is muffled on one side. He pushes the cotton in as much as possible, then places some sort of earbud on top that wraps around the base of my ear and fastens it so it won't fall out. My fighting does nothing to stop them mirroring this on my other ear.

I can barely hear anything after that-- only very slight chatter, but I can't make out what any of it means. A hand touches my cheek from behind me, and I don't even hear it coming. I jump and turn to see Crazy laughing. I don't hear that either, which is like a blessing and a curse at the same time. Vicious lets go of me when I turn.

On my way looking around the room Lucas catches my eye again. Chip is next to him this time, pulling him close to his side, like in a hug, but it's obviously not in a comforting way. Lucas is sort of shrunken into himself, but when he notices me looking he puts his fist to his chest and rubs it in a circular motion.

He's signing 'I'm sorry.'

I shake my head at him.

It's not his fault... and it's not mine either.

I look back at the closet. The cage feels like it's looming over me--- it terrifies me.

My vision goes black, and at first, I think I've passed out, but that's obviously not the case because I'm clearly still conscious. Then I realize that I've been blindfolded when I fell the knot tighten at the back of my head, hair pulling into it painfully. I flinch when they touch my face to adjust it.

"No, please..." I start to beg, "I'm sssorry, I'm so-rry-- p-please." My pleading is interrupted by sobs and hiccups. I can hardly even hear myself speaking, I mainly just feel the words rumble and vibrate in my chest as I speak them, and I don't like that feeling by itself.

I gasp for breath, facing wherever I think Hardhead is standing and continue again.

"Please I-" I was cut off by something being pushed into my mouth. I recoiled backwards instinctively, being stopped by someone standing behind me. What I now realize is a bit is shoved further in and I'm forced to bite down as my mouth is enveloped in leather and the leather straps pull taut against my skin so tight I feel like they're cutting in.

The muzzle...

Nothing happens for a few seconds. I feel a slight movement, then hands on my legs, and hands on my sides. One of the fingers hits the burn by my ribs and I let out a muffled whine, feeling the floor disappear from beneath me. I try to struggle again, fighting against them as hard as I can, though it's useless, and I quickly have to give up because the tight collar, the bit in my mouth and the leather residing over it leave me breathless. I suck in air from my uncovered nose desperately, having to focus on it alone because of how hard it is.

I'm not even claustrophobic, but the thought of being stuffed in that cage, in the closet, alone... scares me so much. It's even worse because I'm being deprived of nearly all of my senses.

Then I'm being set down and bent forward, pulled around and shoved until I feel the cold metal of the cage against my legs. They have me sitting on my knees again, bent so that I fit under the short roof. I can feel the wires against the skin on my exposed back and the back of my head as well.

I was thinking it couldn't get any worse when my head gets pulled downward harshly by the collar. I get surprised and jerk up reflexively only for someone to grab me by the hair and push me back down lower. I feel hands fumbling at the front of the collar and occasionally a bit of rope touching against different parts of my neck for a minute before they and the hand in my hair go away. I try to lift my head back up but I can't- it's held in place. They must have tied a rope from the collar loop to the bottom of the cage.

I realize they still aren't finished when my tied wrists are pulled up next. They get tied to the part of the cage where the roof meets the side. My hands are flush against it and some of my fingers are forced to stick out. The same thing happens to the rope on my elbows to the roof of the cage, making my arms nearly form a ninety-degree angle.

I'm left still and locked into the stressful position, then there's a slight vibration, followed by a larger one, then... nothing.

It must've been them closing the doors- shutting me off from everything completely, except for the cold metal beneath me and the throbbing, pulsing, pain. I can't decide if this is better or worse than what was originally planned for me today.

I mean it should be better, right?

There's no warm breath over my shoulder and on the nape of my neck, no hands trailing over my body, no breathy groans in my ears, no chapped lips over my skin and my mouth, no hands pulling my hair, nobody forcing themself onto me...

There's just nothing.

So why is my heart still racing?

Why does it feel like the walls are closing in?

I don't know. I don't know why I want to stay in and leave at the same time- why I can't decide even though the options seem easy.

I feel like it's only been a minute or so when my arms start to ache and my shoulder develops a raw stabbing pain, not unlike the way it felt when it was originally injured. I attempt to shift my position to relieve the ache, which is where I come into even more of a problem.

If I lean forward and bring my head low, which id hoped would allow my arms to move down more, it pulls on my shoulders. The rope securing my arms to the top of the cage makes sure my arms can't move when the rest of my body does, and therefore threatens to pull my shoulders out of their sockets, which especially doesn't bode well on the one that already has been.

When I try to do the opposite and lean my head backward, a similar problem with my arms arises, but to go along with it, they've somehow tied the collar so that it pulls tighter when I pull my head away from the floor, completely cutting off my airway. It feels just like when Hardhead was squeezing his hand around my throat.

If I return to the middle like I originally was, I realize that I have to give my effort to keep my head in the right position, or risk losing my arms... or suffocating.

I decide that I definitely want out.

Seemingly on cue, the pain of everything else seems to slam into me full force, like all the adrenaline of the situation has fully crashed. If I have to hold this position... then I don't know how long I can last... and I don't know how long they're going to keep me in here.

Tears soak through the cloth blindfold and I can't manage to get my sobbing under control, which in turn spirals away the focus I had kept on my breathing. I start to panic, my chest tightening. I'm going to die.

Holy shit. I'm going to die.

I have a hard time doing it, but I scream, as loud as I can through the muzzle. I can't even tell if I made any noticeable noise or not, I can only feel the rumble in my chest, hear my own racing heartbeat. I have to wait a second before I do it again, jerking my body as much as I can -which isn't very much- and squeezing my eyes shut tight. My mouth feels dry because of the bit pushing on my tongue, the pain in my throat comes back full force. My attempts to move make the new cuts on my knees hurt. Everything hurts.

I can't fucking breathe.

Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop.

In my moment of total desperation I think about it- Sebastian- think about him, his soothing voice.

"Breathe baby, breathe," I can hear him say, "Just focus on me Cuci, in... and out."

I remember how he helps me through a panic attack, ''I'll do it with you, just copy me,' and I can almost see him in front of me, appearing in the darkness, taking deep breaths in for me to mimic.

And I do.

I suck in a large breath through my nose, following the fake Sebastian that I'm so inclined to think is real. I'm staring into his blue eyes, and he's staring back into mine. He raises his hand, and lightly places it on my cheek, mostly resting over the tight leather, and he whispers to me, but I don't know what he's saying, all I hear is the noise. I want to lean into his touch, but I cant-- I want him to hug me tight, and kiss me, but I can't ask him to either. He looks so real- but he's not... right?

I can't tell, but it doesn't matter, I just match his breaths until they're back under control- the tint bit of control I have over them. He whispers more to me, leans forward and gives me the lightest kiss on the forehead, then disappears, a puff of smoke into the air, like it was blown from Hardheads very own cigarette.

I wanted to laugh, a bitter laugh... it can't have been that long yet, and I'm already losing it. But obviously, I couldn't. I can't do anything.

I don't know how long later it was when my tears had dried up, the hallucinations had been plaguing me for so long. I could feel cold hands on my sides, my hips, feeling over my shivering body, grabbing at the shorts, and I couldn't tell if they were real, but I couldn't even manage to care, because I had to focus on breathing and keeping my head up.

I'm so fucking tired. My throat is dry-- it burns, I can't feel my arms, my legs sting, my wrists and ankles never had time to recover from yesterday, the direction of me trying to move rubs against my burns, everything sore, my feet are numb from sitting on my knees for so long, I'm seeing random shapes and hearing random things. I'm losing my mind.

I just want to lay my head down, close my eyes, relax, sleep.

Please let me sleep.

It gets to a point where my eyes drift closed, and it gets harder and harder to open them back up each time. So hard I eventually resort to leaning forward slightly every time I start to drift asleep so it relights the pain in my shoulders and forces me to stay awake. I just have to remind myself; if I fall asleep ill pull my shoulders out.

I'm exhausted. My brain is fuzzy. I don't know how long I've been in here in this stress position. I don't know how much longer I have to hold it, but I hope it'll be over soon.

If they let me out ill be good, I'll be so good for them. No mistakes...

So good...

#whump #whump writing #noncon tw #tw #whumpee #multiple whumpers

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lisinfleur · 4 years

Note

Hi! i just got a tumblr account very recently (but i’ve been reading stuff in the vikings fandom basically since the beginning of covid lockdown last year when i started the show, but anyways lol). i really love your writing and i was wondering if you had any tips about starting up a page or anything? i love writing but i’m much more used to the wattpad layout, and i also love editing photos/videos but i’ve always been on insta for that. on both of thsoe platforms there isnt really much of a fandom for vikings though, which is the main reason i joined/got into tumblr. i’ve never worked on here before so i just wanted to ask if you have any advice for me. thanks so much for your time! sorry this is so long!

Hey love!

First of all, welcome!! The series may be over, but the fandom is super active! And we love new members!

Tips for Tumblr? Let me see...

Well, first of all always save your drafts away from Tumblr. You can have them saved on Word or use Google Drive for saving your documents, but do not trust Tumblr drafts to keep your work and do not write directly on Tumblr post editor to avoid losing your time and effort if the site updates all of a sudden!

For editing and gifing, take note of the size limits for Tumblr images. Some images and gifs can be rejected if not inside these limits and the editor won’t always say what’s the real problem haha.

About mobile and web apps, take note that their codification is different which means, posts edited in Mobile sometimes won’t be possibly editable on the web and vice versa. So, choose your favorite version and stick to it (I love the web, more features available, fewer errors...)

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Tag your work and respect warnings, This one is always good to remember cause tagging your work will help it to spread around (the first 5 hashtags you put on every work will settle it on the searches for those tags helping you to appear around) and the warnings are super important to avoid people from being surprised by triggering content in our fictions. Since we don’t have a block exclusively for warnings - like Wattpad offers - it’s always good to remember to place these warnings before your work starts. :)

If you chose the web version of the platform, remember to use the “keep reading” bar whenever is possible! The web posts can be very long and believe me, in the mobile version, the longer posts become a real nightmare for the users who’ll have to scroll down a lot of touches before reaching the end of our posts. The “Keep Reading” bar feature adds a cut on your post that allows the user to jump your post easier since it appears like a small post on their dashboard and the ones who want to read you will be redirected to your post by clicking on the bar allowing them to have clean access to your content without the many other things their cellphone has to load to read on their dashboard.

Ah! Important one! Prepare a Masterlist post! Whenever you post a new piece of work, put the link for it on your masterlist and save your masterlist as a link on your blog’s subtitle so it will be easier to reach it! New readers will search for your masterlist whenever they like your work, trying to reach more of your fiction without having to scroll down through your whole blog. And also, it helps recurrent readers to find that particular work of yours they love so they can read again or reblog or even show the links and recommend you to their mutuals! Here is mine, as a sample, if you need :) (LINK)

Count on me s2 If there is anything I can do to help, feel free to contact me! It will be a pleasure to answer your questions and help you integrate into this amazing community we have here!

All the love!

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cinnaminsvga · 5 years

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🌀 social media au where namjoon is the head of research and development for the korean intelligence and he has to protect an innocent civilian from a mafia attack –– except that he’s got the wrong person 🌀

A/N: The last two (three?) updates for this series will mainly be in prose, mostly because I didn’t know how else to convey the Scenes™️ in text form without it being weird... Anyway. Here’s this! || W.C. 2.6K

prev // part 23 // next links added later.

[updates every mwf + sat/sun at 12PM PST]

When you finally regain your consciousness, it takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to their surroundings. The cold cement underneath your body is unfamiliar and disconcerting, helping you snap out of your dizziness long enough to realize that you had no idea where you were.

“Fuck.” Panic seizes you as you stare at the concrete cell you find yourself in. There is nothing inside the small room except yourself, some empty wooden shelves, and a metal door to your right, though you imagine that this room might have been used as a supply closet at one point. That doesn’t help you understand where you are, however.

“I was… at home? And then… I was texting Mafia Man and... oh fuck. The mole. Hoseok!” You exclaim, scrambling to your feet before falling face flat once more onto the floor. “What the hell..?” You see that you had tripped over the ropes that were binding you, as it seems that the ones near your legs had untangled somewhat.

After a bit of fidgeting and clawing at the rope, you manage to free yourself with only a small rope burn by your thigh. Whoever had tied you up must not have had much experience with tying people up, but luckily for you… Well, let’s just say being a horny weeb has its perks in times like this.

Unfortunately, your captors had remembered to lock the door, and no matter how hard you slammed your body against it, it didn’t look like it was anywhere near buckling down. “Let me out!” you scream, despite how futile and stupid it is. You continue to bang your fists against the metal regardless. “Once I get out of here, you guys are gonna get absolutely fucked by my yakuza boyfriend!”

No response. Either your guard was scared of the prospect of your (not) imaginary boyfriend, or they had left you alone without a guard. Frankly, you’re more offended if the latter is true because that means these mafia assholes were certain that you wouldn’t make it out on your own anyway.

“Well, it’s true but they still shouldn’t do that,” you mutter angrily to yourself, sliding down to the floor and hugging your knees to your chest. Well, guess you should start getting comfortable if this is going to be the way you’ll live for the rest of your short lifespan.

“Let’s hope Mister Mafia-Slash-FBI Man figures out I’m gone and comes to rescue me,” you say, though the dejected tone of your voice makes it all apparent that you hold no faith in those group of bumbling idiots. “They didn’t even know they had a mole in their presence! I’m gonna fucking die all because of stupid FBI man…”

At the very least, if you make it alive… FBI Man definitely owes you, and you already know what you want in return. “Hot yakuza boyfriend… wait for me,” you sigh dreamily to yourself, closing your eyes as you wait for whatever your future will bring.

“I don’t get paid enough for this,” Namjoon growls lowly to himself, the beginnings of a migraine starting to form. He had just turned off his phone to keep it from ringing, just in case Jungkook doesn’t listen to him and tries to call him and consequently give away his cover. “I can’t believe I’m saving this stupid weeb dumbass. I could die. Or worse, I could lose my job! Fuck!”

Namjoon would have loved to recite a litany of curses for a longer period of time, but the sound of footsteps from behind the abandoned warehouse walls causes him to clamp his mouth shut. He can feel his heart jump to his throat as he strains his ears to hear the conversations of the men behind the walls, trying to pinpoint the recognizable voice of the man he thought that he could trust.

“Did you see that girl that Hoseok brought in to the compound? She looked like a piece of work.” A rugged voice laughs, his deep timbre reverberating even through the walls. “Wonder why he would go through so many lengths to capture her.”

“Maybe Hoseok just likes his women like her,” another voice replies. They sound like they’re getting closer to where Namjoon is standing, and he hopes that they don’t suddenly decide to open or close the door that someone had left ajar. “Bit of a surprise really. Didn’t think he even swung that way.”

“I guess he just didn’t like the girls up in the clubs we go to. Either that, or I didn’t think he was interested in that sorta thing. He looks pretty young, probably the same age as my lil bro. It’s a wonder why he even joined the gang in the first place,” the first man says, and Namjoon can’t help but wonder the same thing. “He’s a real weirdo, that one. A great spy for us, though.”

“I know! Can you believe he got through the resident genius of Korean Intelligence? What was his name again? Kim Namboob or something?” Namjoon almost whines at that, having to shove a fist into his mouth to keep himself from yelling at that rude piece of scum. Namboob! He didn’t graduate university at the tender age of 10 to be scorned like this!

Another pair of footsteps sound like they’re coming closer as well. “You guys talkin’ about me?” The new intruder giggles, and Namjoon feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up in attention.

It’s Hoseok.

“Not at all, kid. Though, now that you’re here, we wanted to ask how your little whore is doin’. You gonna keep her all to yourself or are ya sharing her with the rest of us?” The two men laugh loudly at that. Namjoon grits his teeth in anger, wanting nothing more than to burst through the doors and punch them right where it hurts (though he imagines his limited upper body strength would only cause his fist to break in the aftermath). As much as he thought you were an annoying piece of shit, no one deserved to be spoken about like that.

And it sounds like Hoseok agrees. “Fellas, I’d really appreciate it if you don’t make jokes like that. Ever. These people might be our hostages, but they’re still people. We’re living in 2019, for fuck’s sake.”

The gruffer man snorts. “Geez, kid. Learn to take a joke. Ain’t none of us touching her, anyway. She looks like one of those crazy bitches who spurts their gurts for 2D guys or something.”

Though Hoseok doesn’t reply to that, Namjoon nods his head in agreement. Oh, how right he was.

“Anyway, we’re heading out. Boss says you can keep your girlie in there for another two days, but then you’re gonna have to deal with her after. He’s getting pissed since the feds won’t give up the ransom money for that Halsey girl, so you better not get on his bad side today.”

“Right. See you boys around,” Hoseok says, and it takes a second for Namjoon to scramble away from his position and hide behind a lone metal barrel. He makes it just in time as the two men exit the warehouse, the glint of their guns visible even in the moonlight.

Close one, Namjoon thinks, breathing hard as the adrenaline in his veins refuses to die down. Now’s his chance to sneak in and follow Hoseok to where you were likely being held captive!

He waits for Hoseok to walk away first before poking his head through the door, trying to keep his movements as silent as possible (a feat in itself, as his limbs tended to have a mind of their own sometimes.) He sees Hoseok turn the corner, and Namjoon hastens to follow him, carrying his footsteps while also trying to keep up with the traitor’s quick pace.

They walk through a few corridors, passing a few rooms that Namjoon is itching to investigate, but he focuses himself on the task at hand. Get Y/N, make sure she’s okay, then leave. Anything else other than that can be handled by the Six once they arrive. He wonders if he should make a detour and try to find Halsey as well, but it sounds like from Hoseok’s conversation a while ago that she would be more heavily guarded, so he swallows down his guilt and trudges on towards the lesser important hostage. (You suddenly sneeze in the distance.)

When Hoseok stops right in front of what looks like a supply closet, Namjoon has to skitter to a halt, holding his breath and hoping that Hoseok hadn’t heard the squeak of his shoes. Lucky for him, Hoseok seems none the wiser as he pats his pockets for the keys to your makeshift holding cell, opening the door wide open and revealing your prone form on the floor—

“YOU FUCKING BITCH!” Your sudden shout causes Hoseok to flinch back in shock. In a flash, you stand up with your hands raised, landing a punch against Hoseok’s left cheek that left him groaning in pain. “What the fuck!” you screech, clutching your fist in pain. “Damn you ikemen boys and your sharp jawlines! You fucking hurt my hand!”

If Namjoon was in an anime, he’s sure there would be one of those cartoon sweatdrops illustrated just above his head right now.

But Hoseok was quick to recover; he grabs you in a chokehold, subduing you to the floor with a grunt. “Please, don’t make this any more troublesome than it has to,” he murmurs, forcing your face onto the dirty concrete. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I really don’t want to hurt you but I can’t let you run off just yet.”

As Namjoon watches you struggle against Hoseok’s hold, he feels searing anger and protectiveness suddenly surge through him in waves. How dare that fucker touch you like that! Are we in some sexist BDSM Wattpad fanfiction or something? Hell no! It is that overwhelming wrath that causes Namjoon to jump out of hiding, wrenching you free of Hoseok’s grip with a strength he did not know he possessed.

“Y/N! Are you alright?” Namjoon huffs, struggling to keep Hoseok in place. When Hoseok realizes who it is, he stops squirming. Namjoon ignores him for now, accessing you for injuries. “They didn’t do anything bad to you, did they?”

“Who the fuck?” You splutter, your eyes bugging out of their sockets. You stare at Namjoon, unmoving for what feels like hours. Namjoon still has to latch onto Hoseok to keep him from lunging at you again, though he seems just as perplexed by Namjoon’s sudden appearance as you were.

“Namjoon?” Hoseok tries to twist himself to face him, jaw agape. “What the..? You never do fieldwork! What are you doing here?”

Meanwhile, you were over there like, “Huh? Hughhdfh? HHSHJFHDF?” Truly a person of many talents, you were somehow able to verbalize a keysmash in real life. “HHSFFJKFSKFS?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m here to turn you in and save Y/N, you filthy traitor,” Namjoon growls, surprising everyone with how menacing his voice had gotten. “I can’t believe you fucking drugged our teammates! You betrayed all of us when we had accepted you like you were family!”

“I know, okay? Believe me, I fucking know,” Hoseok sighs, shoulders sagging. “If there was any other way, I would’ve—“

“YAKUZA BOYFRIEND?” You scream, interrupting the heated conversation in front of you. You have your hands splayed dramatically across your chest, the expression on your face comical. You raise a trembling finger towards Namjoon, pointing almost accusatorially at him. “You’re the dude from the picture! Hot yakuza dude! What the fuck? Am I dreaming? Is this some twisted joke, or am I having a wet dream again?” You pinch yourself. “Ouch! Nope, I’m not fucking dreaming.”

“Y/N, I can explain later, but we have to get out of here,” Namjoon starts, but Hoseok takes this as his chance to escape Namjoon when he feels his grip loosen slightly. Hoseok elbows him straight in the sternum, stealing Namjoon’s breath and knocking him down to the floor. He goes to grab you again, holding his arm around your neck and facing the two of you towards Namjoon. Then, you feel a hard cool metal object pressed above your right ear.

“Don’t you dare move, Joonie,” Hoseok warns, holding you tighter. You whimper pathetically, going stock still as fear encompasses you whole. Oh shit, you forgot that you weren’t an anime heroine for a moment there. Namjoon goes still as well, hands raised mid-air as he stares pointedly at the gun placed by your head.

“Hoseok, don’t do this,” Namjoon says as calmly as he can. He can feel his heart hammering against his chest, and his vision is beginning to swim from the nerves. This is where his lack of fieldwork training is made apparent, and he’s never regretted skipping out on PE more than he did right now. “Let’s not get hasty here…”

He doesn’t falter. “Leave, then. If you don’t want to see Y/N hurt, then it’s best you stay far away from here. Call off back-up as well. I don’t want any fighting going on tonight.”

Namjoon grits his teeth. “You know I can’t do that.”

You gasp when you hear the sound of the gun clicking. “Joonie, I’m asking very nicely,” Hoseok says, calm. “Is this girl really worth risking your life over? You and I both know that I can easily kill the both of you. Why don’t we keep the casualty count as low as possible and go on our merry way.”

“Yeah?” Namjoon feels himself laugh, but he doesn’t quite know what’s funny. He’s running on pure adrenaline right now, trying his best to stall for as long as possible. Any minute now, back-up should come… If he knows Jungkook at all, he’ll have tracked his phone even after he had told the younger to leave him be, so at the very least he can rely on him arriving. But the only question remains is… when? Hurry, Jungkook.

“How can I be so sure that you won’t just kill Y/N and I once I turn my back, huh? I know I’m an idiot when it comes to real-life battles, but even I’m not that naive.”

“I swear on my life,” Hoseok says. His gaze is stoic, but there is a fire burning behind them. “I swear on my father’s grave.”

Namjoon stops, hanging onto Hoseok’s words. His father… If he remembers Hoseok’s personal file correctly, he knows that Hoseok’s father had died at the hands of loan sharks. Was that why Hoseok was working with the mafia? To pay back his debt? Or to exact revenge?

“Hoseok… Is that why?” Namjoon mutters to himself, posture slackening. He feels the flames of guilt licking up and down his spine. Hoseok watches him curiously, though his grasp on you doesn’t wane.

“Why what?”

“Your father… He’s the reason you’re with the mafia, aren’t you?”

Hoseok’s face gives it all away. As much as he is a spy, he’s still an expressive type of guy, especially when it came to his family. His mouth crumples into a ㅅ shape immediately. “Namjoon. Please, just leave, alright? I’ll take care of Y/N. Even though it seems like I’ve betrayed you, just… Just trust me, okay? I don’t go around betraying family unless there’s a reason.”

Namjoon hesitates. He feels his guard slowly falling, despite knowing that this could just be another trick Hoseok is employing to dig up his weak sentimental side. Curse me and my stupid empathetic heart! he thinks disappointedly to himself.

Just as Namjoon is about to make a decision, the three of you are surprised when you hear the telltale sound of another gun clicking behind you. From the shadows, another figure appears.

“Freeze. Nobody fucking move.”

Then, you scream.

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