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ickle-ronniekins · 4 years

Text

the one i was meant to find

request: from nonnie! “soulmate au with George??? maybe tattoos or something with the red thread of fate?”

pairing: george x fem!reader

word count: 4.8k

warning(s): angst, mentions of impending war, torture, sadness, anxiety

desc: your seventh year takes a wild turn when umbridge announces the arranged establishing of relationships to keep things in order. keep things in order? sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it? people shouldn’t be paired off, you should find one another through fate! so when umbitchbridge ultimately decides to pair students off by blood status, it seems as though fate (or the ministry) is pulling you and your boyfriend miles and miles apart.

tag list: @mintlibri @georgeweasleyx @seppys-return-to-madness @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @darling-details @laneygthememequeen @lupinsx @keoghans @helloallthethingsilove @dreamer821 @feffffffy @the-hufflepuff-of-221b @62442-am @wtfweasleyy @obsessedwithrandomthings @thoseofgreatambition @harrysweasleys @sleep-i-ness @shadowsinger11 @shadychaoticcollection @haphazardhufflepuff @afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff @hood-and-horan @letsfightsomeorcs @theweasleysredhair @purpleskiesstorm @hxfflxpxffs @wand3ringr0s3 @finecole @angelinathebook @highly-acidic @purplefragile @90shermione @zreads @susceptible-but-siriusexual @hollands-weasley @andromedaa-tonks @bbstrawberry0421 @princessof-theuniverse @cappsikle @mytreec @imseeinggred @idont-knowrn @flyingserpxnt @auroraboringalis57 @godricsswords @jejegu @annasofiaearlobe @starlightweasley @alwaysasadaesthetic @thisismysketchbook @izzytheninja @imboredandneedalife @hemmoporro @valwritesx @heavenlymidnight | message me to be added!

Umbridge’s slimy voice rang violently throughout the Great Hall. Suddenly everything sounded very muffled in your ears, and you swallowed thickly in the hopes of unpopping them. Your breathing became heavy, just as it had that winter day at the Weasley home.

You’d been sitting outside the Burrow in the snow near the garden shed with the lot of them, before Fred, Ginny, Ron, Harry, and Hermione had all excused themselves, leaving you and George alone. You’d sworn that you’d seen Fred wink at you before vanishing inside the bustling home. You’d bit down on your lip, knowing exactly what he’d been trying to do. Damnit, Fred.

You’d stolen a glance at George, who’d looked as calm as could be. That hadn’t helped your nerves at all. Neither had the slight mistletoe that had materialized above you both, the unmistakable sound of Frederick Weasley cackling emanating from the second floor of the house.

“You know,” George began, his voice steady as a rock as he inched closer toward you. He lifted his eyes to glance above you both. “Legend has it that if you don’t song whoever you’re with whenever mistletoe appears, you’re both cursed for life.”

You’d actually snorted and immediately caved in on yourself. How embarrassing was that? Your cheeks flooded red, both from the embarrassment and from the way his laughter had warmed your entire body. You’d hadn’t even known what to say. “You’re full of it, Weasley,”

He’d placed a hand dramatically across his chest. The tips of his ears and nose were pink from the cold, and you’d sworn you were going to spontaneously combust at the sheer sight of it. “Swear to Merlin, Y/N, I read about it.”

“You? Read about it? Sure. In what -- Ten Ways To Charm Your Crush?” you’d internally scolded yourself for saying something so bloody stupid, but George had clearly thought it was cute because his grin deepened alongside the dramatic drumbeat of your heart. You’d decided to dive in head first. “I reckon you just want to kiss me.”

His features had twisted into a childish smirk and the wind ruffled his bit of bright red hair sticking out from his hat. A few snowflakes had fallen onto his eyelashes and melted when he’d blinked. “Absolutely, I do.”

He’d caught your lips with his in a moment of clarity. It was new and invigorating and familiar all at once. You may had been informed of your magical abilities at the age of eleven, much to the surprise of your Muggle parents, but in all the years you’d been attending Hogwarts, you’d never felt magic quite like this. The feeling of his eyelashes brushing against your cheekbones and his tongue gliding gently over your bottom lip had sent you gasping for air --

A hand on the small of your back pulled you from your memory. You turned to your side and looked at George for some reassurance, except all he was able to give you were worried eyes and a clenched jaw. You noticed the way his eyes glistened, but not the way they had underneath the snow and the stars and the mistletoe. They were glistening with tears.

“You can’t pair people off like this!” Yells were ringing throughout the Great Hall, along with complaints and quite a few expletives. You squeezed George’s hand. All you wanted him to do was tell you everything would be okay. “George, she can’t --”

Umbridge kept on talking, annoyingly enough, and you were surprised at how loudly her words echoed in your ears. “The Ministry has concluded, boys and girls, that students will be paired off by blood status. Pure-bloods are to marry pure-bloods, half-bloods with half-bloods, Muggle-borns with Muggle-borns. No intermingling will be tolerated. There will be daily checks to make sure you are abiding by the rules. Be warned, children, there will be disciplinary actions for those refusing to obey. No exceptions.”

You felt as though your throat was closing up. George’s face was blurry through your vision, but you could still see the worried look glazing over his eyes. How the hell did she expect to pull this off -- daily checks? This woman was absolutely mad. Somehow though, you knew she’d stop at nothing to make sure her rules were being followed. The thought terrified you to your core. To George, you said shakily, “But -- I love you.”

You’d known it since the day you met him, and even before that. You knew that he was the one you’d been waiting for. The overwhelming feeling of warmth you’d felt when he’d introduced himself with a lopsided grin all those long years ago in the middle of a Herbology lesson was like nothing you’d felt before. You had first met his gaze across the classroom, and he’d held it a little longer than he normally would have. You’d been in love ever since. And so had he.

It isn’t fair, you wanted to yell out. What authority did Umbridge have to decide who you’re meant to be with? Weren’t soulmates to be determined by fate, and not by the corrupt Wizarding government? You had a thought of hexing her right now, but her pompous laugh made you feel as though you turned to stone. By the look on McGonagall’s face from the other end of the hall, you were quite certain she felt like hexing Umbridge, too.

Who the bloody hell was she to think that she had a say, any say, over who you were allowed to marry?

George’s lip wobbled a bit as he breathed in deeply. “I love you, too.” His voice was hoarse and different and worrisome. “It’ll all be okay, darling, I promise.”

Somehow you knew that George didn’t fully believe his own words.

What were you supposed to do, coming from a Muggle family, when the whole lot of Weasleys were pure-bloods? What were you supposed to say to this vile woman to make her reconsider her choices? When your eyes met hers in a fit of fury, you squeezed George’s hand tighter, all while Umbridge threaded her brows together and stood up a little straighter.

What were you supposed to do if your soulmate wasn’t allowed to be your soulmate at all?

-- -

As you stealthily flicked your wrist, a dull light emanated from your wand, causing Professor Snape’s hair to stand up on command and turn a rather ugly shade of yellow.

You squealed; how you’d managed to pull it off was beyond you. Behind you, your boyfriend squeezed your shoulders and grabbed your hand before pulling you out of the Great Hall and around the bend. He was finding it very difficult to suppress his laughter, as evident by the red colour rising in his cheeks and the slight tears in his eyes. “You’re brilliant, you know that?”

You flipped your hair and grinned at him. “I know,” you said cheekily, earning yourself a playful jab to the ribs. You locked your arms around his neck. “I learned from the best.”

You adored the dimple that appeared on his cheek each and every time he smiled. You pushed his long hair out of his eyes. “The best, eh?”

“The best of the best,”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead and lifted you into the air, your feet dangling just above the corridor floor. He spun you a bit until you claimed you were getting dizzy. “My girl is going to out prank me one day.. how’d I get so lucky? I reckon I’m the luckiest bloke there is.”

You giggled and played absentmindedly with the hairs at the nape of his neck. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” George breathed, placing you back down and bringing a hand to the back of your neck. The cheekiness in his features almost immediately twisted into that of compassion, of admiration, of --

“I love you.”

If you hadn’t been so absolutely floored (even though you’d kind of been expecting it), you would’ve noticed how very quickly those three words had brought tears to your eyes. Except, you were too excited to notice such things. Nothing at all could’ve prepared you for those three words. You reckoned your smile was stretching from ear to ear now.

The three words you’d been waiting to hear for so long were playing in your head on repeat. You couldn’t wait another second before saying them very quickly back through a very excited squeal. “Iloveyoutoo!” He laughed and kissed you softly, his mouth moving very carefully against yours. You whispered against his lips in a calmer, more serious tone, “I love you, too.”

-- -

Your seventh and final year at Hogwarts was not going according to plan. Not only had Umbridge mechanically established relationships via blood status, but she also split all of the students up by blood status as well. So there were no longer Hogwarts houses. Each student were given new, generic Hogwarts robes and new common rooms. You shifted uncomfortably in a particularly painful armchair in what used to be the Slytherin common room. How convenient, you thought, that Umbridge had deemed the dungeons an appropriate spot for the new “Muggle-born Residencies”.

And George.

He was struggling to get used to the strange entrance of the previous Ravenclaw common room, now deemed the “Pure-blood Dormitories”. Umbridge had completely banned the selling of any and all Weasley products, even confiscating their trunks and blasting their items to smithereens. Everything George and Fred worked on for so long was just...gone, and you couldn’t even be there to comfort them.

The most interaction you were able to have with George were stolen glances across the Great Hall and in lessons. McGonagall didn’t have much say over the pairing off, but she did have a say in how lessons ran. She shut down Umbridge’s ludicrous “lesson by blood status” idea almost immediately.

George had sworn to you that it would be easy to sneak around, that he could jinx Umbridge or remove her memory or outsmart her any day. But bloody hell, it was proving to be difficult. This woman had certainly done her research. The Ministry had you all on a strict lockdown control.

Fleeting moments with George came less often than both of you would have liked. One recurring time Umbridge couldn’t stop you (because she wouldn’t dare step out onto the Quidditch pitch) were matches. The schedule had already been established, McGonagall had fought. It was the only time the “four houses” were able to reconvene during the school year. You waited patiently, nervously, restlessly outside of the Gryffindor changing rooms and yanked George rather violently behind the tent before pulling him onto a bone crushing embrace.

An exasperated breath left your lips. “I don’t know how much more of this I can handle.” you told him. It had only been a month -- surely it had been longer? Like five bloody years maybe?

“Me neither, love.” The feeling of his arms wrapped around your waist was exhilarating in a way that nothing else was. When he pulled away to look at you, he kept his hands gripped tightly on your hips, as if he were afraid you were going to slip through his fingers. Which, you thought, was pretty accurate. These fleeting moments were exactly that. Fleeting.

You expected to see the usual cheekiness glistening in his eyes, but he looked -- empty. Like the life had been sucked right out of him. Like he didn’t care about anything anymore. Like he hadn’t caught sleep in days.

You tugged hesitantly on his robes. “I -- I got paired off last week.”

You didn’t say this to hurt him; you said this to be truthful. You saw his jaw clench as he prepared himself for answers. “Who is it? I know him?”

You waved George off. “He’s just some guy.”

And then, amazingly, incredibly, George actually snorted. For a brief moment, you saw traces of happiness nearly lift him off of his feet. “Some guy?”

“Well I don’t bloody know!” you laughed too. It felt like discovering a completely new emotion, since despair seemed to be the only thing you were feeling these days. “We -- haven’t really spoken much. Just the bare minimum. He’s got a girl in Ravenclaw. Half-blood. So he’s dreading this just as much as us.”

George breathed a sigh of relief. “Same with mine.”

So he’d gotten paired off too. You felt a huge bout of nervousness tense your muscles, and you nodded. The question you were wanting to ask must’ve appeared blatantly in your eyes, because George took your hands in his and squeezed them. “You know that Hufflepuff? Lead singer in the frog choir?”

Your heart dropped about a thousand stories. Of course you knew her. She was stunning. And dating that Slytherin bloke, the one who was exceptionally good at Charms. It didn’t stop the nerves from bubbling up inside of you though. You bit your lip and stammered, “She -- she’s beautiful.”

George brought your hands to his lips and kissed them gently. He hated seeing you like this, you could tell, because there was a type of yearning in his eyes you’d never seen before. He shook his head and pushed a piece of hair behind your ear. “No, you’re beautiful.”

Just then, the very obnoxious foghorn-like sound emitted from the castle, signaling the end of Quidditch and that all students must return to their respective dormitories immediately. Gravity was pulling you both apart, but you both defied it, testing fate, holding onto one another just a moment longer.

George kissed you with an intensity you’d never known -- you didn’t exactly know when the next time you’d be able to be this close to him. It proved to be the most difficult thing you’d ever had to do to pull away. “Be careful, be safe -- I love you.”

“I love you too, George.”

You watched as he ran forward to meet Fred, who shot you a sympathetic gaze. You mechanically entered the group of Muggle-borns who were heading back to the dorms. Before vanishing toward the opposite end of the castle, George threw you one last inconspicuous glance and brought a hand gently to his heart.

-- -

“George, it’s not up to me, it’s not up to you,”

Grimmauld Place looked disturbingly non-Christmas like, despite Molly’s best efforts at decorating in her spare time between visits to the hospital to see Arthur. You’d managed, in a strange, winding way, to end up here. It proved to be very difficult though. Umbridge was now monitoring all floo-networks and the skies for flying, and it was becoming increasingly hard to apparate when your heart just wasn’t in it. But you’d made it -- somehow. You worshiped these few days here, unbeknownst to her.

You shifted uncomfortably underneath the blanket, unable to find a position on the couch that made you feel okay. Comfortable. Safe.

You glanced down at your scarred hand and ran your fingers along the words that were reflected on George’s as well.

I must not disobey the law.

The law. That’s what Umbridge thought this was. So when she caught George attempting to sneak down to the dungeons one night to see you, if only for a moment, she threw the both of you in separate four-hour long detentions, these six words now permanently engraved into your skin.

“I don’t care,” George breathed. “I don’t care about Umbridge, or these stupid rules, or the shop, or the fact that I’ve got this ridiculous phrase on my skin. I don’t care about any of it, I care about you.”

You bit your lip as the tears began to flow. You knew he didn’t mean that. Of course he cared. “I care about you too, but what are we supposed to do?”

“Let’s fight this!”

“We’ve tried! We’ve tried, George! Umbridge is so set in her ways, not even Dumbledore can shut this down! D’you think this is easy for me?” you cried. “D’you think it’s easy knowing that there’s a beautiful woman you’ve been paired with, or that there’s a man who I’m expected to spend my life with when all I’ve been doing for the better half of the last two and a half years is planning my life with you? It’s not bloody easy, George, it’s not, tell me how this is fair, tell me!” You weren’t sure when you’d started pounding on his chest, but your rattled cries echoed throughout the empty living room space. George pulled you into his chest, gripping the back of your neck tightly in his hands as he continually pressed kisses into your hair. Your sobs turned hoarse and raspy; you were crying fully now, desperate moans evaporating into the tense air above you.

You hated hearing him cry, so when he opened his mouth to speak and his words were jumbled and emotional, you squeezed your eyes shut tight, hoping that you’d open them to something other than this nightmare. “I don’t -- I don’t want to give up on us, love.”

“And you think I do?”

“No, no, of course not!” he cried, letting his emotions get the better of him. He sucked in a breath as you dabbed gently at your tears, even though fresh ones fell just as quickly as the old ones vanished. How could this be the plan for you two? How could this be your fate, when you were so in love with one another? He shook his head. “No, I’m not done. I’m not done fighting for this. Bloody hell, I don’t even care if I’ve got to use the cruciatus curse on her. I’ll give up the shop, I’ll do anything. I don’t care about anyone else --”

“George, please, you can’t give up the shop, I won’t let you --”

“Come hell or high water, I’m fighting for you,” in a moment of fury, he grabbed and cradled your head in his hands before pressing a forceful kiss to your lips. It didn’t stop you from crying. When you both parted, you peered up at him and noticed tears near the edges of his eyes. “I’m not giving up on us. I love you.”

You gently brought a hand to his cheek and caressed his skin. You choked out, “I love you, too.”

Sometime later on, after you’d both drifted off, you woke to the sound of slight shuffling around the room. Wrapped around you in a tight embrace, George was fast asleep, his breathing now steady and slow. You noticed Molly walk over to you both and cover you with an extra blanket, her wedding ring dazzling brightly in the moonlight flooding the room.

She must’ve noticed your puffy eyes and blotchy cheeks, because she reached out and ran a gentle hand through your hair. Tears had risen in your eyes immediately at her touch, as well as surprise. You’d expected a scolding for falling asleep together, but instead she just whispered, “Fate will win in the end.”

You squeezed your eyes shut and let the tears fall, but managed to nod at her and squeeze her hand. She gently caressed your cheek and placed a kiss to your head and to George’s before crossing the room and quietly closing the door.

George stirred a bit when you interlaced your fingers with his. You pressed your lips softly to the top of his hand before letting more tears fall and adjusting within his embrace, the one you came to know so well, and found yourself craving more than oxygen itself.

-- -

“They love you. I promise. They always have, haven’t they?” The fire reflecting in his eyes resembled how the fire in your bones felt. Wild. With reckless abandon.

“But this is different!” you squealed, pushing gently away from him so he couldn’t tickle you. “Before I was just good mates with all of you. Now I’m -- your girlfriend.”

George threaded his brows together in confusion. “Wait, you are? Since when?”

He earned himself a playful jab to the ribs for that one. Outside the Burrow, the snow was falling soundlessly. It had been three days since George had kissed you under the mistletoe, two days since you made it official, one day since he re-introduced you to his family as his girlfriend. It was the perfect Christmas.

“I’m just.. worried, is all. They’re getting to know me in a different way, you know?”

“Don’t worry, love,” he reassured you, placing a gentle kiss to your hairline. “Fred’s mad for you, always has been -- waiting ages for us to get together, hasn’t he? Ginny and Ron adore you.. I can’t wait for you to meet Bill and Charlie finally. Er -- can’t make any promises about Percy, though. No matter -- he’s a foul little git, anyway.”

You sniggered a bit and felt your breath catch in your throat when George began to trace small circles on your knee. You swallowed. “And your mum and dad?”

His smile only deepened. “Well they love you, don’t they? Mum’s always called you part of the family already. And my dad, well -- you know about my dad.”

You’d never felt the Muggle part of you was that exciting, but somehow Arthur Weasley’s enthusiasm for it made you feel like it was such a precious part of you, that you were all the better for it.

George continued, “Now that you’ll be spending more time here, I reckon he’ll keep you occupied in conversation for hours. Making you tell him everything about Muggles. Apologies in advance.” George laughed softly for a moment and waved his wand to bring you both cups of tea to settle in for the evening. “Besides, he’ll go absolutely mad when he meets your parents. He’s always hoped one of us would have Muggle in-laws.”

You raised an eyebrow in surprise and teased him. “In-laws? Already have us married, do you?”

When you giggled playfully, George didn’t, but instead squeezed your hand a few times and let his sincerity speak for itself through his facial features. His soft eyes, yearning and hungry and wildly in love. His mouth in a lazy grin. His chest rising and falling slowly, as if being able to look at you had finally regulated his breathing. Like you were the oxygen that was finally refilling his lungs.

You stammered, breathless. “Y-you do think about that, don’t you?”

He shrugged, as if to play off the whole thing. “Haven’t scared you off, have I?”

You brought a hand to the back of his neck and laced your fingers through his bright red hair. You smiled. “Of course not.”

“Good,” he replied cheerily, as if the idea of you two getting married was obvious. “Because I’ve known it for years, you and I. Fred reckons I may have willed this into existence,” He chuckled to himself more so than to you. You didn’t think your heart could pound any faster than it had the other day when he’d kissed you for the first time. You were wildly wrong. He pressed his lips to the back of your hand. “You were the one I was meant to find.”

-- -

December 1997

The cobblestone on Diagon Alley was slick with fresh rain. The lights on either side of the street flickered ominously. But there it was, as bright and brilliant as ever, colours in the dismal gray, light in the impending darkness.

“I’m not leaving! I’m giving up the shop and I’m staying here at school, alright? I’m staying with you.”

“No, George, you can’t! You can’t give that up for me. I won’t let you. You’ve worked far too hard for this.”

“I’m not leaving you here! Not with her! She’s torturing students left and right --”

“And I will be okay,” you replied with tears in your eyes. You squeezed his hands tight and his chest was heavy with sobs. “Your plans are bigger than this, and they’re bigger than me.”

It had been almost two years since he’d left on a broomstick, firework dragons swimming through the castle and the sky as he and his brother left their final mark on the Hogwarts grounds.

Almost two years since Umbridge had been replaced by Dumbledore, and the Hogwarts you knew and loved went back to some type of normal, the entire idea of blood status pairs driven into the ground with a stake.

But it had also been almost two years since Muggle-borns were forced into hiding for fear of the impending war.

Two years since you’d seen him. Heard his voice. Felt his touch.

He was crying fully now. “This -- this can’t be it for us.”

Your lip wobbled hearing those heart wrenching words. He’d always been the stronger of you two, comforting you when you cried -- this felt strangely unfamiliar. You didn’t quite fancy being the strong one, but he needed you. “It’s not. It’s not, okay? This is not the end. I promise. But you deserve this, George. You deserve the world. And one day, when this is all over, if I’m still lucky enough -- I’ll find you again. Come hell or high water. You need to follow your dream, okay?”

It wasn’t a breakup, but it sure felt like one.

He pressed his forehead to yours and an involuntary, hoarse cry escaped his lips. “But you’re my dream.”

“George, please --” you stopped yourself. You didn’t finish the words that were rising to your lips. Please don’t make this harder than it needs to be. You cupped his chin in your hands and peered up at him, your vision blurry. But you could still see his lips were set in a thin, firm line, his jaw was clenched tightly. He was going to leave.

You looked down at the red thread tied loosely around your pinky finger. You followed it with your eyes as it wrapped around street lamps, signs and other shops, before ending up exactly where you’d always known it would when it had first appeared on your finger after you’d graduated school.

93 Diagon Alley.

“My heart will always belong to you, love.”

As you hurried down the street, following your little thread, and the shop came into better view, you could feel the sheer intensity of the anticipation bubbling up inside you.

You pointed your wand ahead, illuminating the dark street and readying yourself for any dementors or Death Eaters that were lurking close by.

But before you reached the doors, someone ran into the middle of the street and stopped short. You lifted your wand higher, ready to hex, until you realized who it was.

George was standing in the middle of the cobblestone, hair in disarray, in his sweater his mum had knitted him every single year. He’d always told you how comforting it felt to wear. You couldn’t help the slight laugh that escaped you, for the first time you’d seen him in two years he so very similarly resembled that young, cheeky boy you’d teased your first Christmas at Hogwarts for the socks he’d knitted on his own to match the gift from his mother.

He said your name in a whisper, but in your ears it sounded like a booming shout -- like all the world could hear it, if they were listening.

And you noticed your little thread, stretching along the street, ending in a tiny knot on his own hand.

You wanted to tell him that you were here to find him, and that you’d been able to escape the hiding you were under, due to being a Muggle-born. You wanted to tell him that you hadn’t once stopped thinking about him since you’d last seen him all those years ago and that when you’d finally seen that thread, you were convinced it led here -- you’d just never been able to act on it. You wanted to tell him that you prayed for him every single night.

But all that escaped your mouth was another nervous laugh before you were running and slipping along the street before winding up in a bone crushing embrace you were bound to feel the effects of tomorrow.

He wanted to tell you that he’d never met anyone as selfless as you, how equally excited and heartbroken he was when you’d told him to leave and charge forward. He wanted to tell you that he’d been spending every single day waiting for news, any news at all that Muggle-borns were no longer in hiding. He wanted to tell you that he’d had enough, and he was coming to find you just as he stumbled before you on this little street. He wanted to tell you that he’d never once stopped loving you.

But instead all he could do was kiss you fiercely and brush the tears away that were escaping your eyes, because that kiss was telling you both everything you needed to know -- all of those unspoken words, all of those bottled up feelings, all of the unwavering love you’d carried in your hearts for one another throughout all of the moments that kept you apart.

And then he was kneeling before you, raindrops dripping down from his hair and onto his face and neck, and he was saying the things you’d always dreamt of him saying, and he was opening a box with a ring inside that took your breath away, just as his first kiss had.

A familiar ring.

Molly’s ring.

Your breath hitched at the sight of it, and her words from that Christmas echoed in your mind.

Fate will win in the end.

When George placed it on your finger, you both noticed through blurry vision that the thread that had been attached to you both had disappeared into thin air.

You’d found one another again, despite it all, despite the tyrants and the war and the rules that were holding both of you hostage.

Because this was the fate you were both destined for. This was the moment. Husband and wife, together or apart.

Fate had won in the end.

Just like Molly had told you.

The fire crackled pleasantly alongside the faint sound of Christmas music. You reached out and traced a finger over his jawline. His words made you feel simultaneously cozy and incredibly nervous. “The one you were meant to find, huh?”

George laughed, probably because of how corny that had sounded. But he didn’t care -- he knew it was true. He’d known it since the day he met you, that fate had brought you together. He breathed in deeply and squeezed your knee. “Yeah, darling, I’ve already planned my whole life with you.”

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nbrook29 · 3 years

Text

Kiss or Slap

Sander doesn’t remember when exactly their group made the riverside near the Scheldt their new hangout spot, but he couldn’t be more grateful for it as a cold breeze washes over his overheated body, providing a momentary relief against the scorching heat falling from the sky. It’s probably why the park is fuller than it usually is on Thursday afternoons, packed with people spread on their picnic blankets, searching for a bit of shadow under the big trees and desperately craving a bit of wind.

It’s so hot he doesn’t even feel like sketching, preferring to just lie on the grass without moving a single muscle, and dying in peace. Even the enticing smell of cinnamon rolls that Noor brought with her isn’t enough for him to reach out and take one from the basket, the action requiring too much movement on his part.

“Guys, come on, we have to start or we’ll never get it done! Sander, get your lazy ass up.” He grunts when he feels Leon’s merciless fingers jabbing him in the ribs.

“Can’t we wait until it gets a little less hot?”

“No, cause that’s not happening in the nearest future and we need new content,” Nathan butts in, followed by Noor, which makes Sander officially outvoted. So he heaves a deep sigh, puts his shirt back on and ruffles his hair to make himself more presentable, rolling his eyes at Noor’s appreciative whistling.

“Someone’s gonna snatch himself a bunch of kisses today with that smoldering look,” she teases, pretending to give him a once over.

“Is that your way of telling me you want one for yourself, sweetheart?” He’s immensely proud of himself when her entire face scrunches up in disgust.

“Eww, no, feels like incest at this point.” Which is kinda true given the fact they’ve known each other since kindergarten and became best friends making sand castles. He fires an obnoxious wink at her, fully anticipating a shove which comes as expected within seconds, with Noor calling him a creep in between laughter.

“Who should we start with? Senne? Wanna go first?” Sander watches as Leon takes out his camera equipment and checks the settings as the rest collects their things.

“I guess, yeah. And then Nathan after me?”

“I’m not doing it, man, you know Britt, she’s gonna flip out.”

“Be a good reason to break up with her,” Sander mutters under his breath, not really feeling apologetic when Nathan shoots him a glare. It would be a long time coming, and honestly, Sander can’t wait for that moment to come. Just being in her presence gives him chills, she’s that much of a horrible person. A few years ago, he read something about alternate universes and sometimes when he looks at her he can’t help but think there’s a history there with the two of them, in a past life or something. At least it would explain that weird energy between them.

If it’s true, he feels very sorry for that Sander.

He roots for him to run far away from said devil’s spawn.

“I can go next, I don’t have the ball and chain,” Noor says innocently, but she’s smirking over Nathan’s shoulder at Sander who pretends to high five her in their shared hatred for Britt.

“Yeah, us lonely birds will sacrifice ourselves and take the hit for the wellbeing of our channel,” Sander laments playfully, making Senne snort.

“Dude, you’re on your own by your own choice.”

“And pickiness. Don’t forget pickiness,” Noor adds smugly.

Sander huffs in protest. “I’m not picky! I just...” He cuts off because he’s not about to just explain it all now.

“Just what?”

“Specific about what I want.”

Brown curls, brown eyes, shortish, lean, pierced ear, cute giggle, elegant hands and a smile brighter than the sun.

To be exact.

“Yeah. That’s picky.”

“Whatever,” he replies grumpily, and decides to ignore Noor’s knowing look. Sometimes he feels like she has a sixth sense and can read him like a book. Or she’s just less oblivious than the boys in their friend group. That’s a totally possible option too.

Thankfully, she doesn’t push him further (she’s awesome like that), though Sander has a feeling she’s gonna grill him later when they’re alone. For now, she checks her lipstick in her phone as they all briefly plan the video.

Not like there’s that much to plan; a few days ago, they decided to shoot a kiss or slap challenge for their YouTube channel because it had been wildly requested by their viewers.

Sander still doesn’t quite know how he became a part of a YouTube channel in the first place, always considering himself to be a bit more, well, sophisticated than that? But Leon was into it from the beginning and made them all participate in exchange for free beer, until one day one of their videos blew up.

If you can call getting 100k views on one video blowing up.

Anyway, they got semi-popular amongst Flemish teens and even managed to snatch a sponsorship with Mentos (however small the offer was) that paid actual money. And he had just managed to move out of his family house so any money coming his way he welcomed with no questions asked.

So they’ve kept shooting silly challenges slash anything else that’s a trend at a given time and have been able to cover their art supply needs with what little they earned. And, though Sander refused to admit it in the beginning, it’s actually kinda fun. It’s definitely better than his part time job at Pull&Bear where he has to deal with obnoxious customers on an almost daily basis.

They record a short introduction near the river, quickly going over the rules and explaining that the three of them will be competing in who gets more kisses versus slaps.

“Hey, you know what, this is actually unfair cause you both can kiss anybody,” Senne points out all of a sudden, receiving four pairs of unimpressed glances.

“No one’s stopping you from getting kisses from boys too, dude,” Sander is quick to shut him up, shit-eating grin on his face as he gives him his first (light) slap to the cheek.

They follow Senne around the park with a camera as he turns on his charm and smiles sweetly at the girls he chooses for the challenge, doing surprisingly well on the first few attempts. But when they venture deeper into the park and he tries his luck with college girls, he gets 5 slaps in the row to the rest of the group’s utter delight. In the end, his results are a blow to his pride and even Sander feels sorry for him, giving him a pat on the back while trying to hold his laughter in at Senne’s grumpy face.

Noor does much better, naturally, as her upbeat personality and a wide smile have always made boys and girls turn their heads. She gets a kiss after kiss, blush after blush, and two phone numbers in the process. Senne argues again that it’s unfair because no one’s gonna slap a girl anyway, but Leon just calls him a sore loser while Noor shamelessly flirts in French with another girl right in front of the camera.

Sander’s very proud.

Taking a quick sip of water, he gives Leon a thumbs up and starts his round, coming over to three blond girls chilling near the skateboarding ramps, trying very hard not to come off as creepy and clarifying the kiss part being only a cheek kiss. The girls erupt in giggles, but they all grant him a light kiss. One of them tries to flirt with him after, but he shoots her down before she can get too into it.

“Such a heartbreaker, you,” Noor coos at Sander’s pained face when they all walk away.

“That’s you, and you actually enjoy it,” he quips back, sticking his tongue at her.

“I do not, shut up!”

Fifteen minutes and fourteen kisses later he’s officially in the lead, sealing his victory with a kiss number fifteen he receives from a cute redhead. He’s gloating in Senne’s bemused face about nobody choosing to slap him when he stops in his tracks.

It’s the proof of his hopeless infatuation that he’d recognize that laugh everywhere.

He looks around for its source, but he comes up short. Then, his eyes focus on the skatepark area and his heart starts beating faster.

Because it feels like a sign. Like the universe is giving him a chance to finally do something. Make a move.

“Hey, can we shoot one more try?” He asks the guys, trying to sound casual while glancing furtively in the direction of brown curls.

“You’ve already won, but I guess?”

Nobody questions him about his reasons, they just follow him to the ramp.

And he’s so fucking nervous.

It’s incredible, really, how he generally has no problems talking to people he’s interested in, conversation flowing without him even trying, gaining easy smiles and appreciative looks wherever he goes, some natural confidence to him.

But that boy. That boy is something else.

He makes him question everything he says, makes his palms sweat and makes his deep hidden shyness come onto the surface.

Sander saw him for the first time during Open Day at the Academie in may, strolling casually through the hallway with his friend, completely oblivious to the turmoil he was causing to Sander’s heart.

That was the day Sander saw an angel.

Fate placed him on his path again sooner than he could’ve hoped, the boy participating in a 2 week film course at his school only several days after he saw him for the first time. And he tried so hard to convince himself to talk to him over that time, but he only managed a few smiles while passing him by in the hallway.

That and that one stupid joke he said to him while they were waiting in line at the cafeteria that makes him cringe in despair just thinking about it. Seriously, it’s like his entire cool evaporates when he’s near him.

But, the boy laughed at it. So maybe it wasn’t as horrible as Sander is making it to be. Or he was just being nice.

Robbe.

Robbe, who he’s been crushing on ever since that fateful day in may.

Robbe, who was at the same party he was last weekend.

Robbe, who he talked to at that party and managed to calm his nerves enough to be charming and funny.

Robbe, who giggled, blushed and bit his lip at Sander’s dumb jokes that evening.

Robbe, who slipped through his fingers because Sander blacked out soon after.

He almost never drinks, but that one night he did, celebrating the beginning of summer break, and not realizing his usual abstinence meant he was now officially a lightweight. What an awful timing.

Robbe doesn’t notice him right away, having his back turned to him while talking animatedly to his friends. Taking a deep breath and plastering a smile to his face to hide his nervousness, he approaches them.

“Hey guys, got a second?”

He notices the recognition in Robbe’s face right away, and Sander shoots him a quiet “hi” when his eyes meet his, an unsure smile blooming on his face.

“Hey, what’s up?” One of the boys nods at the camera.

“I’m Sander, and we’re shooting a video for our YouTube channel, the kiss or slap challenge,” he quickly explains, the boys’ faces lighting up.

“Hey, we have a channel too! I’m Moyo, this is Jens, Aaron, and Robbe.” Moyo reaches out to bump his fist with him and damn, Sander has to find that channel if Robbe is a part of it.

Jens levels him with a look. “So, you want us to kiss you or slap you?”

“Pretty much, yeah?” Sander chuckles because he’s aware it’s ridiculous, but he’s a man on a mission here, give him a break.

“I think Robbe should represent all of us, don’t you think so?” Moyo proposes, tongue in his cheek as he checks with the rest of his friends. Sander catches the death glare Robbe sends the boy before looking back at him and crossing his arms, looking a bit out of place. And, fuck, the last thing Sander wants is to make him uncomfortable.

So he asks softly, “you’re in?” and waits for agonizing five seconds as Robbe watches him, eyes narrowed, before his features smooth out and he smiles at him.

“Sure, why not.”

Relieved, Sander lets out a chuckle and tries to keep his cool. “Okay then - kiss or slap?”

Robbe squints against the sun and makes him wait another few seconds before he answers, but Sander’s not worried because there’s a soft smile on his face and obviously his angel wouldn’t-

“Slap.”

Wait, what.

He can hear his friends bursting in laughter at this unexpected turn of events while Sander can only stare in shock because how could he miscalculate the situation this much?

Gulping, confused and heartbroken, he asks, “you’re sure?”, to which Robbe nods with a poorly hidden glee.

“But you have to close your eyes cause I can’t hit you while you're looking at me.”

Heaving a deep sigh and trying to save a face despite the humiliation flooding his body, he nods and closes his eyes, steeling himself for it.

But it never comes.

Suddenly, he feels a hand cupping his cheek and he flinches a little, but then soft lips touch his in a kiss so gentle he blinks his eyes open, not knowing what’s happening.

“That was payback for you promising to call me and not keeping your word,” Robbe whispers against his lips before leaning away, something sad and wistful passing through his face. Sander is left completely dumbfounded, ignoring the hollering from the two groups as his eyes fleet all over Robbe’s face.

It’s difficult for him to collect his thoughts because holy fuck, Robbe has just kissed him and he’s internally freaking out. He finally manages to get his bearings when the remnants of a smile slip off Robbe’s lips.

“I-, Robbe, you have no idea how much I wanted to call you, but I don’t have your number.”

“I gave it to you. At the party?” He doesn’t look like he believes a word Sander is saying.

“Um, I kinda blacked out and don’t remember much after like one-ish?”

“You saved it though, I saw you typing it in,” Robbe argues again, but this time he doesn’t look so sure. “Wait, what’s your number?”

Sander watches him entering digit after digit before hitting call. He fully expects a plain number to appear on his screen, eyes widening when he sees what pops up instead.

zk bambieys 🥺🦌👁️💘🧡💖💞 calling

“Fuck, you did give me your number.” He’s not fast enough to hide his screen from Robbe, but he can't even feel embarrassment once he notices the frown disappeared from his face.

“Bambi eyes?” There's a teasing note in his voice, but his pink cheeks sell him out.

Sander scratches his head. "I was very drunk, you can't hold it against me. Also, your eyes are really beautiful," he clarifies, winking when Robbe laughs at his shameless flirting. "Hey, I tried to find you on instagram, but nothing came up. I was really hoping we're gonna bump into each other again. Sorry for being a dumbass and not realizing I had your number this entire time?”

“It’s okay.” Robbe shoves his hand into the pockets of his jeans, swaying on his heels. Sander decides to put them both out of their misery and take the initiative.

“So if I asked you out, would you say yes?”

It looks like Robbe’s about to nod, but then he bites his lip, an almost cheeky smile directed at him. “I guess you have to call me to find out.” And then he gets on his skateboard and casually skates away to the nearest ramp, pulling a surprised laugh out of Sander.

If he was intrigued before, now he’s totally smitten with this wonder of a boy, because damn.

Their friends finally seem to regain their voices and speak over each other at what just happened, but Sander doesn’t pay them any attention, just takes out his phone again and pressing the call button.

Watching as Robbe comes to a full stop at the top of the ramp, he cocks his head with a grin and waits until he picks up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Sander.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Robbe laughs into the speaker.

“Will you go out with me?”

He meets his eyes across the skatepark as Robbe makes him wait again.

Then, with a smile so radiant it overshadows the sun, the boy finally gives him his answer.

“Yes.”

#wtfock #my fics #i think i prefer writing sobbe in canon #i kinda struggle with the AU versions of them #😫

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the-infamous-coat-of-baron-zemo · 3 years

Text

You Talk Too Much | Niki Lauda x fem!Reader

A little Niki Lauda x fem!reader story. Modern AU. There’s probably going to be a part two to this, but not until tomorrow or the next day most likely.

Enjoy! This is just nonsense I've written out of thin air.

You were in the middle of your explanation when you were interrupted by Lauda.

“Are you always such a Schwätzer?” he inquired, sardonic amusement flitting through his voice.

You paused, cocking your head to the side as you placed both hands on your hips to assess his observation of you.

Eyes narrowed, you silently searched his face for traces of any real condescending tone or whether this was Niki Lauda’s idea of poking fun at you.

You weren’t completely sure. You still didn’t know Lauda well enough to get a good read on him.

After a beat, you decided to play it off. You were too exhausted to go another 12 rounds with him from your earlier argument. He was really insufferable sometimes; yet you could never truly bring yourself to feel upset with him.

“Did you....just accuse me....of being a chatterbox Mr. Lauda?” you drawled out somewhat defensively, but your eyes glinted with mischievousness.

You removed your hands from your hips and crossed your arms in front of you. You took a decidedly more playful stance, as you awaited his response.

Niki appeared surprised by your reply; he didn’t seem to expect this response to his ribbing. You watched as he reached up to scratch the back of his neck and give a quick glance to Hunt, who was standing with us.

Hunt was oddly quiet. He seemed quite mystified and curious about how the conversation had shifted so quickly.

You could have sworn Niki Lauda almost looked anxious, but you dismissed the notion. Whatever expression was on Lauda’s face vanished as swiftly as it appeared.

“If the shoe fits,” Lauda shrugged with one shoulder. That haute confidence returning to him.

You heard James gave a hearty chuckle at Lauda’s reply, which in turn, earned him a glare from you.

You were unamused he was taking Lauda’s side. Weren’t they rival’s for Christ’s sake?

You huffed in exasperation. Why did this man drive you up a wall? Sure he was an asshole most of the time, but there was something else about him too that made you crazy. He clearly has a sense of humor, albeit a dry one. And okay, he was attractive in his own right, but he didn’t parade around like James does. And he’s always honest to a fault, which is something you have always respected about him.

Well shit.

This was worst possible time to start realizing you might actually have feelings for Niki Lauda. Especially with James standing next to you to.

Worried you had been silent too long, you cleared your throat and rolled your eyes at the two of them.

“You’re hilarious Lauda! A regular riot!” you said flatly.

You started walking towards the exit, at a faster than normal pace, as you caught sight of the valet who had your car ready. Seeing your way out, from possibly embarrassing yourself in front of Lauda and by extension Hunt, you took it without hesitation.

“See you two later!” you waved in an exaggerated motion, relieved to get away from the two drivers momentarily.

Just as you got to your car, you heard someone call your name. You turned your head towards the voice to see the manager of Ferrari jog up to you.

You wanted to bang your head against your car. Please, you just wanted to get back to the hotel.

You put on a smile and address the manager with as much energy as possible.

“Hey, I saw you’re leaving. I was hoping I could get you to do me a favor?” he asked.

Confusion crossed your face, as you have no idea what the manager of Ferrari could want with you. Though your interest was piqued.

“And what exactly can I do for Ferrari this early evening?” your keys jingled nervously as you respond in kind.

“We ran into a snafu with our transportation, and was hoping you’d be gracious enough to take Mr. Lauda and Mr. Hunt back to the hotel with you.”

As the manager was speaking, you saw James and Niki crept into your peripheral vision.

This was not how you planned for this to go. You fumed internally, which boiled over outwardly.

“Do I look like an Uber to you?” you snarked back.

You bit the inside of your cheek as you rubbed a hand across your face. The agitation warming away at you. Taking them back wasn’t an issue. The issue was your brain finally figured out you’ve been crushing on Niki Lauda and you needed space to digest.

Too bad the universe was working against you today.

You inhaled deeply before addressing the manager again, who had wisely kept quiet.

“Fine,” you grounded out.

You heard the manager mumble his thanks to you as he walked away. You saw him give a thumbs up to Hunt and Lauda as he past them. You shouted you’d be sending an invoice for services rendered before waving the two drivers over.

Hunt appeared to be fairly jubilant over the whole thing and Lauda’s expression was much more wary.

“Fate keeps finding us together, eh?” Hunt said.

“Like gum stuck to the bottom of my shoe,” you deadpan back to him.

“Shotgun?” Hunt pointed, excitedly.

“Not a chance,” Lauda said, quickly darting in the front seat of the car.

You laughed to yourself. A competition in everything between them.

“Thanks for the ride. It was so kind of you to drive us back to the hotel. Please feel free to jump right into my vehicle,” you mumbled irritatingly to yourself.

You sighed and opened the driver’s side door when you heard James start speaking.

“You think I could drive?” Hunt questioned, a hopeful tone lighting his voice up.

“No!” you and Niki said at the same time.

“Just get in already,” you stated exasperated.

You rolled your eyes as James finally gave in and got into the back seat.

This was going to be a long trip back.

#niki lauda x reader #niki lauda #rush 2013 #my writing

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sageinacage · 3 years

Note

ok retry because tumblr deleted the prompt from your askbox >:( how about a fic with lee!eret and ler!foolish where foolish knew that eret was ticklish in the past, and now in present day, he wants to know if that fact is still true and tries to discover it for himself? i love ur fics btw!!! :D

Old Pal summary: foolish is curious if his old friend eret is still ticklish. a/n: THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING THEIR DYNAMIC I APOLOGIZE THAT ITS PROBABLY A BIT OOC BAHAHA warnings: n/a w/c: 1.6k DSMP, Platonic

‘Was the sun always this bright?!’ Foolish squinted in thought, looking up at the clear sky as he raised his hand to block the rays of light aimed right at his face. He huffed, lowering his hand and leaning against the furnaces he set up in his construction area.

It was a sunny afternoon, a light breeze brushing through the leaves on the trees scattered around the area. Foolish was busy today, working on the mansion he was commissioned to build for his friends Ranboo and Tubbo. It was a beautiful building so far, so much done but so much to do still.

“What time is it?” The shark-totem hybrid asked himself, opening his inventory to grab ahold of his clock. He smiled to himself. It was only one in the afternoon, a perfect time for a lunch break.

He walked down the path, going back to town. As Foolish walked, he took the time to look around, looking at the buildings around him. He smiled as nostalgia filled his heart, then filling at a newfound speed when he saw the castle.

Arriving at the gates of the castle after a swift speed-walk, he walked in. You see, his old pal Eret lived in the walls of the gorgeous castle, and Foolish was one loving guy and just wanted to see his friend.

“Eret- King Eret? Are you hooome?!” He called out, chuckling at the echo he heard. Amused by the echo, Foolish kept on yelling. “Yoo-hoo, Eret! Your pal is here!” He continued to shout, laughing at each echo he heard back. About to shout again, he heard a chuckle; one that didn’t belong to himself. Foolish whipped around, seeing a person wearing the signature sunglasses of his friend.

“Eret!”

“How’s my friend doing?” They smiled, opening his arms for a hug. Foolish, being much taller than the monarch, bent down to surround them in a tight hug, lifting them up with him as he stood up straight. “Alrihight, put me down, Foolish!” Eret laughed warmly, being put back down on their feet only after a dramatic whine from the hybrid.

“Still a big softie, I see?” The monarch chuckled, fixing their shades which got tilted from the big hug Foolish gave. “Eret, you’re talking like I haven’t seen you in years. Well- I mean, it has been a while…” He rubbed the back of his head, bashfully smiling at the light chortles Eret produced. “It has been a while, you goof.”

The two had some good laughs as they ate lunch together, catching up on what has been going on in each other's lives; but also talking about memories they remember. One really stuck with Foolish, a memory of when they used to playfully fight all the time. By ‘playfully fight,’ I mean tickle each other.

“Foolish, do you remember our old tickle fights? Those were always so fun.”

Did they just read his mind? Foolish’s eyes widened before he composed himself, smiling. “Yeah, I usually won them as well.” He sniggered, earning an exaggerated gasp from his friend. “You did not! I was usually the victor, don’t lie to yourself!” Eret laughed, picking up Foolish’s and their plates to bring them to the kitchen.

Foolish smiled to himself, then looked up in thought. ‘Were they still ticklish? Could someone even lose ticklishness? Am I still ticklish?’ The hybrid hummed as thoughts played in his mind, not noticing Eret’s fond smile at the doorway of the living room. “Whatcha thinking about there, pal?” They smiled, Foolish cowered sheepishly at the sudden voice.

“Oh- Eret! I didn’t notice you were b- back already!”

“You’re nervous. What’s on your mind?”

“N… Nothing!”

“I don’t believe that, Foolish.” The monarch sighed, sitting on the soft couch near the table. “Why don’t you sit down?” Eret offered, Foolish slowly making his way to sit next to them on the pillow-filled couch.

“Are you sick? You’re quite red.” They furrowed their eyebrows, placing the back of their palm on Foolish’s forehead. “I’m fine, I promise!” Foolish smiled, snickering to himself at how Eret really never changed. They’ve always been so kind and caring, always taking care of their friends and people who mean loads to them.

“You’re lost in thought again, friend.” Eret smiled, the other crossing his arms. “You can tell me what’s on your mind, you know I wouldn’t judge you for anything.”

“Are you ticklish, Eret?” Foolish blurted out, Eret’s raising their eyebrows in surprise, but melting into a soft smile. “Why were you so nervous to ask that, you goof? Though I don’t know if I am… maybe? Who knows.” Eret thought, before chuckling at Foolish’s sudden expression: it was a mix of surprise and happiness. It was a quiet moment- until Foolish’s little smirk turned into a wide, toothy grin.

“Let’s test it. I think it’s fair if I reclaim a few victories of my own, yeah?” Foolish giggled evilly before diving his fingers down to squeeze their waist. The sudden jerk the monarch produced exposed the truth. Yes, Eret was still ticklish. Definitely.

“Fooholihish!” Eret laughed playfully, holding Foolish’s wrists; but not pushing him away. “Aha! So you are still ticklish!” Foolish excitedly announced, his squeezing fingers turning into fluttering fingertips up Eret’s ribs over their dress shirt. “Nihihice obsehervation!” The sassiness is definitely still there as well, apparently.

Foolish hummed in thought, trying to remember any sweet spots. You could practically see a lightbulb appear over his head as his face lit up. “Whahat are you plahanni-IHIHAHAHA- FOOLISH!” Eret squealed, throwing themself back on the couch. Foolish’s hands gently squeezed up and down their thighs, eventually settling on the spot right above their kneecap.

Laughing at the sudden cackle, Foolish stopped his squeezing to just rake his slight claws up and down their thighs instead. “It looks like getting a victory will be easier than I thought, huh?”

Eret shook their head. “You neheed to t- try haharder than thahat, paha-AHAHAL, NOHOT THEHERE!” They threw their head back, glasses almost flying off as the squeezing started up again, moving to the under-sides of their thighs. The mix of squeezes and raking on the backs of their thighs was driving Eret mad, the feeling nearly unbearable.

“Fiiine, it would be fun to figure out your tickle spots allll over again, don’t you think?” Foolish sniggered, slipping his hands out from under them, only to wiggle his fingers over Eret’s stomach. They immediately sucked their stomach in on reflex, squirming gently to get away from the impending claws over his belly.

“Oh? What’s wroooong, Eret? You think you can get away from my tickles? Is that it?” Foolish raised an eyebrow, lowering his hands before Eret could get a word of retaliation out. The monarch kicked their legs, arms crashing down to weakly shove at the attacking hands. “F- FOOHOLISH! SHUHUSH!” Eret let out more high-pitched giggles, a few hiccups peppering through their laughing fit.

“No, I don’t think I will. It’s fun to talk about how ticklish you are, and how much I’m gonna tickle tickle tickle you! Laugh for me!” The hybrid teased, cooing little noises at the monarch as he wagged a single claw over their ribs, as his other hand prodded on the side of their belly. “Oooh, maybe instead of the ‘King of the SMP,’ you could be the ‘King of Giggles!’ I like that better. What do you think about that, King?”

Eret shook their head, face growing red and warm at the new title bestowed onto them. “STOHOP T- TAHALKING!” They playfully rebuttal, earning a head shake from Foolish. “That wasn’t very nice, King of Giggles! I think I should humble you a little bit, yeah?” Before Eret could retaliate, their words evaporated into nervous giggles as they felt the bottom buttons of their dress shirt come undone.

“Y’know Eret, a while ago when we had these tickle fights, you always did something that made me lose every time. Do you remember what that was?” Foolish started, then smirked. “I believe the technique is called a ‘raspberry.’ Does that ring a bell, Eret? I bet it does, you’re blushing right now.” He smiled, pushing the bottom of their shirt aside.

As they felt cold air brush over their belly, shivers rushed over them and butterflies erupted in their stomach, now excited giggles bubbling up from their throat. “Juhust do ihit!” Eret complained, digging their heels into the couch behind Foolish.

He laughed, leaning down. “Alriiight, you technically asked for it, though!” Foolish smirked at Eret before planting a large raspberry right underneath their navel. Screw Foolish and his strong shark lungs. “F- FOOLIHISH- YOHOHOU WIHIHIHIN- I GIHIVE! PLEHEHASE!” Eret managed to get out through their laughter, grabbing a pillow to protect themselves with as they caught their breath.

“One win for Foolish, let’s go! Looks like I’m in the lead now.” Foolish crossed his arms triumphantly, a proud smile plastered on his face. “Wehe’re tahallying up wihins now?” Eret asked, fixing their crooked glasses. The hybrid nodded at them, putting his hands on his hips as he stood up.

“Hmm, I better get my lead back then.” Eret smirked, Foolish’s proud grin shifting into a skittish smile. “Wh- what? Wait, Erehet. Yohou don’t need toho!” He shook his head, putting his arms out in front of him as a ‘defensive mechanism.’

“Watch yourself, old pal. I think it’s time I discover your tickle spots now.”

#mcyt tickle #dsmp tickle #lee!eret #ler!foolish #my writing

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kim-miyeon · 3 years

Text

Hell Above-Chapter Sixteen

PAIRINGS: Hwang Hyunjin x Female Reader

WARNINGS: Series contains mature content, read at your own discretion. Mafia!AU, explicit language, suggestive language, graphic scenes, weapons, murder, angst, 18+.

WORD COUNT: 5.7K

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Someday We’ll Tell Ourselves, “Oh My God, This Is Paradise”

“We’re doing it. It’s my call.” You said as you headed at the door, Hyunjin watched as you left.

“She can’t be serious.” Felix gawked and Seungmin enclasped his hands and he sighed.

“You know she is.”

“Is she always like that?” Changbin asked, looking at Hyunjin.

“Been like that for years, you can’t change her” Minho responded, eyeing at Changbin.

“She's as hard headed as the come. Minho knows more about that than you think.” Seungmin followed up.

“We have to figure out another way. She can’t risk her life for this.” Hyunjin spoke and Jisung huffed.

“The family is already fucked up,” he stated

“Jeongin would know what to do though.” Seungmin announced catching everyone’s attention. “Jeongin knows her better than any of us, including you.” Seungmin looked at Hyunjin and stressed his words. “

“He would know what to do and how to get her to change her mind.”

“Where is Jeongin?” Hyunjin asked softly.

“At the hospital after YOUR sister fucked him up.” Felix spat out aggressively earning a nudge from Minho.

“My sister and I are two different people…” Hyunjin stated and the room fell to an awkward silence. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault” Minho reassured Hyunjin and Hyunjin nodded.

“but your sister fucking sucks” Minho followed up.

“Yeah no kidding” Felix agreed and Hyunjin chuckled as he looked at the boys who just smiled back at him.

“Hyunjin and I will go talk to Jeongin and we’ll figure out what to do. Don’t say anything to Y/N while we do that. We will report back later. Got it?” Minho ordered and the boys nodded their heads as Minho patted Hyunjin back as Hyunjin Let Minho take the lead towards the door.

Minho reached and grabbed the door of the hospital and Hyunjin walked in, Minho following behind. It was a silent place, almost eerie and the feeling of walking in and smelling the clean air made Hyunjin sick. He kept replaying what Felix had said about Yeji and that Jeongin and Y/N were close. That someone knew her better than him. No sense of jealousy, but almost sadness, that she had someone to confide in that wasn’t himself. And he couldn’t blame her. How do you talk about things with your significant other if it’s a secret that needs to be kept. In the back of his mind its troubled him how well you played your role, never once breaking or exposing your raw truth. He was impressed. You have always been someone to impress him. You would amaze him in ways he never knew one could. So it hurt him to know that you must have been in pain, in agony, when the closest person to you ended up here.

“Can I ask..” Hyunjin began and Minho shifted his view to him.

“Yeji.. what. Um. Like what..”

“He had seven fractured ribs, damn near a broken spine, collapsed lung, broken shoulders from being hung.” Minho started and Hyunjin felt the pain run off of Minho’s tone.

“He was extremely dehydrated and malnourished and she kept him alive by injecting him adrenaline. His heart race was so high that the doctors believed he could have gone into cardiac arrest. And then the night we got him back and … everything happened…” the two walked slower until Minho stopped in his tracks.

“She shot him in his back. He had to undergo surgery four hours and retrieve the bullet and shards. It’s a miracle he’s alive.”

Hyunjin imagined it. That night he saw you in the basement. When everything changed, not only was she dealing with the pain of losing you but she was enduring the pain of losing her closest person.

“Jeongin is the youngest of us. And growing up, Y/N probably felt alone. I don’t know when but I know that those two are attached at the hip.”

Hyunjin smiled and Minho laughed a bit as they started to walk again and Minho shrugged.

“Don’t get too jealous Hyunjin. She still has a lot of love for you.” Minho reassured.

“I’m not jealous just, upset that you guys had to go through this. I feel responsible.” Hyunjin sighed and Minho nodded.

“It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know what she was doing.” Minho said.

“I still don’t. It worries me that she’s constantly planning something. She’s a fucking parasite.” Hyunjin rolled his eyes and Minho laughed.

“Whatever she has up her sleeve, we will come back twice as hard against her.” The two walked up to the door and Minho knocked as Hyunjin grew nervous about meeting Jeongin.

“Minho!” Jeongin exclaimed as Minho stepped into the room. Then Hyunjin saw him. A small boy in his opinion, eyes sharp, resembling a cute fox. His dark hair over his eyes, and his skin was pale. He was sitting up on the bed watching tv and had just finished his dinner which was set on a tray next to him. Jeongin looked at Hyunjin and his eyes widened and Hyunjin got more anxious.

“Jeongin, this is Hyunjin.” Minho introduced and Jeongin smiled at Hyunjin.

“Nice to meet you Jeongin.” Hyunjin nodded at him.

“I’ve heard a lot about you.” Jeongin smiled and Hyunjin widened his eyes.

“You have?”

“Not all of it came from the documents.” Jeongin smiled while he spoke and Hyunjin smiled and thought about what it could have been that you shared. How many secrets did Jeongin know? What kinds of things did you express to him?

“She loves you a lot. Thank you for taking care of her.

Hyunjin snapped out of his mind when he heard Jeongin speaking to him. Hyunjin smiled softly before Jeongin turned his attention to look at Minho.

“What’s going on?”

“Grandfather ordered an execution on Y/N for treason.” Minho stated and Jeongin pursed his lips with little shock in his face.

“Cause she’s pregnant..”

“Yeah.”

“And I bet she came up with a ridiculous plan too.” Jeongin stated earning a surprised looked from Minho and Hyunjin stepped a bit closer.

“She wants to use a tranquilizing bullet to slow her heart rate down enough to wear grandfather believes she is dead.” Hyunjin said and Jeongin bit his lip.

“And she wants Minho to pull the trigger.” Jeongin finished and Minho looked at him as he nodded slowly.

“Are you?” Jeongin asked.

“I can’t. There’s no guarantee that the bullet won’t kill her and her baby.”

“She really over complicates everything.” Jeongin crossed his arms over his chest.

“We need you to talk to her. And convince her not to go down this route.” Minho demanded and Jeongin furrowed his brows.

“Why me?”

“Unfortunately you’re the only one she will listen to. If I tell her it’s not enough.”

“If I try to convince her to not go through with it.. what would be the other route.” Jeongin sat forward.

“We don’t know. We have to think about it.”

Hyunjin watched the pause over the room. The silence that consumed the two. He watched as Jeongin was struggling to say something as Minho paced slowly around the hospital room.

“Minho.” Jeongin softly said.

“Yeah?”

“Maybe the gun shouldn’t be pointed at Y/N.”

Hyunjin looked over at Minho who looked at Jeongin in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe we should be aiming our weapons at someone else.”

Hyunjin thought about Jeongin’s words. He pondered through them until he knew what Jeongin meant. Until everything made sense.

“Your grandfather.” Hyunjin softly said and Minho looked at him and then shook his head.

“Jeongin we can’t kill grandfather.” Minho walked closer to the bed.

“Can't.. or won’t?” Jeongin tested.

“Huh?.” Minho flinched back lightly.

“Look at me Minho and tell me you really believe that grandfather shouldn’t be the one on his knees begging for mercy. Tell me you don’t believe he hasn’t committed treason.” Jeongin sternly said and Minho stood there and looked down at the floor.

“Think about it. He almost killed his own blood.” Jeongin pointed to himself.

“He did kill his own blood.” Hyunjin interjected and Jeongin turned his head softly.

“Killing grandfather could mean a whole world of danger . Not just to Y/N...but all of us.” Minho said almost mumbling through his teeth.

“So the risk scares you?” Jeongin asked.

“Putting you all in danger scares me” Minho looked back up and snapped back at Jeongin.

“Minho. You had too many chances to defend Y/N in her time of need. This is your last chance.” Minho looked at Jeongin for a short period and felt his words. But inside he knew the consequences, he could feel the future, and he couldn’t bear to watch any of his family die. Not even you.

“Convive Y/N to change her mind, Jeongin. Hyunjin and I will figure out a plan.” Minho said as he headed out the door leaving Hyunjin there with Jeongin.

Jeongin sighed as he looked down at his hands and bit his lip.

“Whenever she spoke about you..”

Hyunjin looked up at Jeongin and Jeongin looked back up at him and continued.

“There was always a twinkle in her eye, and a smile on her face. She radiated a room when you were brought up. It was intoxicating.”

Hyunjin smiled a bit imagining you in that moment. How you always lit up a room. How your eyes shined beautiful and smiled like an angel.

“She loves you Hyunjin. More than anything. And I know you feel the same way. Don’t let her go through with this.” Jeongin stated and Hyunjin felt Jeongin’s voice darken and his next words left a shiver down Hyunjin’s spine.

“The only way out is through.”

********************************************************

The night was eerily peaceful as Hyunjin looked out the window from the bedroom replaying Jeongin’s words.

“The only way out is through.”

Hyunjin remembered the same words spoken from his father, and how it made him feel and what he finally understood of it.

After you and Minho left the room Hyunjin looked at his father who groaned as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

“She’s pregnant.”

Hyunjin’s eyes widened with fear and he felt his whole body run ice cold. His heart beat racing and beating so loudly he could hear the pounding in his ears.

“How did you know?

“I can see it.” Hyunjin’s father smiled and Hyunjin felt the once cold rush turn warm. “She has the same glow about her the way your mother did when she was pregnant with you and Yeji.”

Hyunjin watched his father Internally deciding how to move forward and what to say.

“I am grateful to her for sparing your life Hyunjin. She’s incredibly trained and I know she didn’t have to.” Hyunjin’s father somberly said.

“Is that why you are helping us?” Hyunjin asked and his father sighed.

“I can only help you so much. The network, the organization of underground leaders, would have me at the stake if they knew I was handing out information like this.” Hyunjin knew that the mafia leaders couldn’t disappoint or go against the men who fed them.he knew the network was the way we received our riches and gold. The ones who did the dirty work so that the me above could shine. It was a dangerous game, and you never knew if someone close to you was a part of them. Hyunjin’s father could be dead within seconds if someone found out.

“You love her a lot, don’t you?” Hyunjin didn’t know how to answer his father, but he was tired of lying and tired of meeting a middle ground.

“More than anything in this world Father. She is my other half and I want to raise this child with her. I want to live a normal life with this woman.”

“Then the only way out Hyunjin is through.”

“What do you mean?” Hyunjin scrunched his brows and his father nodded to himself.

“If you want to spend the rest of your life with her and your child, in peace, you cannot avoid the obstacles that stand in your way.”

Hyunjin stood there rather confused as his father watched him trying to uncover a riddle that he handed to his son. Hyunjin looking stunned as he was deciding what his father meant but his father clears his throat and pull him back into reality

“Go on. I have to continue my work.”

Hyunjin nodded softly and turned towards the door.

“Hyunjin..” Hyunjin turned around to his father and his father sighed.

“Be safe.”

You rose up from the bed and began wheezing and your body frailed and Hyunjin ran from the window over to you. Your hair and body was wet from sweat and you had tears streaming down your face. Your body was burning to the touch as Hyunjin wrapped his arms around you.

“Hey hey hey” Hyunjin cooed as you wheezed and Hyunjin looked at your face and grabbed it and looked into your eyes. Bone chilling fear “Y/N. Look at me.”

You found Hyunjins orbs and locked in with him as he helped you breathe in and out slowly. He began to feel you come down from your high and you looked down at his arms and chest that were around you.

“You’re okay.” He pulled you into him and you laid on his chest, crying.

“What happened ? Hyunjin asked stroking your hair and you sniffled

“A bad dream..I can’t remember..” you stuttered through your choked tears and Hyunjin comforted you

“Hey shush. I’m right here, love. Nothing bad is going to happen. Everything will be okay.”

********************************************************

“Here it is”

“So tell me, when Minho shoots it-“ You started and Changbin cut you off.

“It will break the skin, it will hurt, especially if he is rather close to you. I made this protection pad for you to wear..” Changbin handed to the padding and you eyed it a bit before he continued.

“This should help stop the force of the bullet from completely killing you”

“YAH!” Hyunjin yelled more as a warning to be careful with the words people used. He was on edge with the whole situation.

“Hyunjin it ‘s fine. It won’t kill me. We just need it to put me out for a few, make grandfather believe I am dead.” You looked at him before turning to Changbin, “Thank you Changbin.”

Hyunjin clenched his jaw and left the room as you tried to grab on to his arm as he jerked you off.

“Hyunjin—“

You followed after him and you two were in the hallway when you called out his name again and grabbed him as he turned to you.

“This is ridiculous Y/N putting yourself at danger! Putting everything on the line like this. If he thinks you're dead, what difference does it make!?”

“He hid me from the world. He made me non existent. Do you know that you could have been dead years ago!? That’s why.” You retorted and Hyunjin sighed out in frustration.

“I’m playing the same game as him, Hyunjin. Making myself non existent. For me, for you…” You grabbed his hand and placed it over your stomach, “for our family.”

Hyunjin pulled you into a hug and held you tightly, like he was going to lose you .“I just can’t bear to think of something happens, if you-“

“Nothing will happen, I promise. I trust Minho. I trust the plan.”

Hyunjin looked at you with little confidence as you perched yourself up to place a kiss on his lips. Pulling back you still saw the worrying in his eyes and you placed your hand on his cheek.

“I’m going to go back to talk to Changbin some more.” You smiled and you turned to leave and Hyunjin watched you walk away.

He ran his hands through his hair and face. He sighed and looked down reaching into his pants to grab his phone. The words of not only his father but Jeongin kept playing and Hyunjin began to believe that they were right. You can’t go through with this. He wouldn’t allow it.

He hit the dial button on his phone and raised it to his ear hearing the sounds of the ringing go through.

“Hello?” The voice of the man came through.

“Meet me at the intersection. Tonight.”

*******************************************************

Hyunjin sat at the bar, twirling the ice in his drink. He heard the sound of the door opening behind and grabbed the glass and took a sip of the liquor.

“Bourbon. Straight.” Hyunjin looked over as Minho took a seat down next to him.

“You called me rather late. What’s going on?”

“The only way out of through.” Hyunjin said and Minho looked at him confused.

“Huh”

“That’s what my father said to me when we left his office the other day, talking about your grandfather.” Minho’s drink slid over to him and he looked at it. Grabbing the glass as he remembered the day you three went to the Hwang mansion.

“What does he mean by that”

“Jeongin asked you, can you kill your grandfather?” Minho sat his glass down and looked at Hyunjin.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Can you?” Hyunjin reiterated.

“Hyunjin you don’t understand. Murdering that man would set a domino effect in the leadership. The network for us is incredibly powerful. Killing our grandfather would be a means of war, he leads the network for the family. No one knows that but me.” Minho turned and explained.

“We can’t avoid him.” Hyunjin pressured and Minho groaned as he looked away in frustration. Hyunjin continued

“Tell me that you believe if we play his game and hide Y/N he won’t find her. He won’t track her down? He won’t be suspicious? Tell me you really think that your grandfather wouldn’t catch on.”

“My family is my priority.” Minho stated.

“We’re family Minho. My child is your family. And our family is in danger.” Hyunjin pleaded and Minho looked back at his drink as he sighed heavily. There was silence that laid over the two before Minho spoke up again.

“I don’t expect you to know this. But, I have lived with guilt my whole life. He’s hurt her Hyunjin, in the worst of ways. And I knew. Every goddamn time he took her to his office. She would be covered in bruises and cuts. She would cry every night and I would hear her. She needed me Hyunjin and I let her down time and time again. I never did anything.”

Hyunjin reflected Minho’s words. Things he never knew about you. All the years and all the deep dark moments you could never share. It saddened Hyunjin. He wished he could have held you in those hard times and every moment when you needed him more. But how could he have known?

“The only way out is through.” Minho said to himself bringing Hyunjin back.

“Can you kill him?” Hyunjin asked desperately.

“I can but..”

“But what?” Hyunjin cut Minho off and Minho was deep in thought.

“We have to catch him off guard. And Y/N can’t know.”

“Wouldn't she want him dead?” Hyunjin asked confused as to why you couldn’t know.

“She doesn’t realize it, but in the back of her mind, she has an attachment to him. One that she can’t break on her own.”

Hyunjin sat back and sighed and Minho continued to explain.

“He raised her, and made her who she is. No matter how much she may think she hates him, she can’t see a life where he is dead.”

“She gave me this by the way….” Minho reached in the back of his pocket and pulled out the note you had handed Minho a while ago for Hyunjin. He handed it to Hyunjin who took it and opened it up. Hyunjin’s eyes scanned over the words you had written. He felt his heart quench and his eyes grew hot and watery. It was a painful letter. It was painful for Hyunjin.

“She’s prepared to die..” Hyunjin whispered to himself and Minho clasped his hands and breathed out deeply.

“I will kill him, but Hyunjin when I take that shot…” Minho paused and Hyunjin turned his head.

“It’s war.”

********************************************************

Hyunjin grabbed the files off his desk and he walked over to the cabinet and placed the files in it. He heard the door of his office open and close and he turned around to find Chan standing there with sadden eyes, very tense demeanor.

“What are you doing here?” Hyunjin spat and walked towards his desk not looking at Chan.

“I came here to talk.” Chan took a step closer and Hyunjin snapped.

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Hyunjin please listen.” Chan pleaded.

“No.” Hyunjin grabbed his suit jacket off his chair and began throwing it over his arms.

“Changbin told me about Y/N.” Hyunjin paused and turned to Chan and grabbed his gun and held it in his hand defensively.

“What did he tell you?” Hyunjin spoke clenching his jaw.

“That she’s pregnant ..” Hyunjin gripped his gun tighter and Chan looked at his hand.

“And in danger.”

Hyunjin began fuming and looked at Chan intensely until Chan sighed and kept talking.

“Hyunjin, helping Yeji my… that was selfish of me and I know you don’t forgive me but—“

“ I haven’t forgiven you Chan.” Hyunjin interjected.

“I’m sorry..” Chan began to let a few tears fall from his face softly.

“I want to set things right for you, for her, for..” Hyunjin looked at Chan and Chan shrugged sadly.

“Your baby.”

“How do I know I can trust you? How do I know this isn’t a set up and you’re gonna tell Yeji the plan or that you’re not working with Y/N grandfather?” Hyunjin through his gun up at Chan and Chan put his hands up in surrender as Hyunjin accused.

“I can’t ask you to trust me, I know I lost that from you.”

Hyunjin looked at Chan and felt broken. But the part of him that felt betrayed would let the gun come down.

“There’s a shelter.. a little home…. off the grid.” Hyunjin lowered his gun a bit as Chan was speaking.

“It was a place my father created in case he had to hide my family. It’s never been used.”

“Who knows about it?” Hyunjin stood back and withdrew his weapon.

“Only me. And now you.”

Hyunjin paused and took a deep breath as Chan lowered his hands.

“You can take her there, and you can have your baby there. It’s a good place Hyunjin. No one will find you.”

“Unless you tell someone.” Hyunjin muttered.

“I won’t.” Chan reassured and Hyunjin shook his head, “I don’t expect you to trust my word but I hope you take the offer. It’s the least I could do after everything.”

“Chan.” Hyunjin spoke and Chan stopped talking to let Hyunjin speak.

“Come with us. Come fight with us. Defend us. And then, I can trust you.” ********************************************************

Hyunjin and you sat in the car. He looked at you the whole time and watched you as you shook your leg and bit your thumb. You were anxious, nervous. It was today and Hyunjin knew it. He knew how it would all end. Your mind was so preoccupied with the what if’s and the unknowns you couldn’t find peace. Hyunjin wanted to take your hand and just tell you everything will be fine. Tell you that it will all be over. But it was a lie. You two were going to be fine and safe, but not forever. This didn’t end tonight, it was beginning.

I’m going in.” You unbuckle your seat belt and looked at Hyunjin. Hyunjin slid his hand over your cheek and behind your head as he pulled you into a kiss, one that felt so passionate, full of love, fear, lust. Like it was the last time you two would ever feel each other. He wanted to savor this peaceful moment one more time. He wanted you to know he was here in every way.

“Y/N” Hyunjin whispered against your lips. Your name brought him security and safety. You were everything he ever needed in his life and once you left that vehicle, nothing would be the same. But he needed you to know how he felt at that moment. Two souls as one.

“I love you.” Hyunjin said and you looked into his eyes. He didn’t want you to leave the car but you had to. You smiled softly at him.

You got out and shut the door as you began walking into the hospital. Hyunjin watched you to make sure you got inside before he saw a few black cars pull up next to the building. Hyunjin knew immediately that they had to be inside. They were waiting for her. Hyunjin started the car and began driving off to warn the others.

“They took her.” Hyunjin bursted into the office and Minho jolted up out of his seat as he turned to Felix who looked back at him.

“It’s time.” Minho said and Felix nodded and got up and grabbed his jacket.

“Let’s go fuck shit up.” Felix said and left the room, heading to go round up the other boys.

Hyunjin stood there across from Minho as Minho looked back at him.

“So we are really doing this?” Hyunjin asked and Minho nodded his head.

“Better late than never.” Minho scoffed to himself and Hyunjin nodded as they both left the room.

“CARS READY.” Felix shouted by and Hyunjin found Minho's gun and grabbed it.

“You may need that.” Hyunjin laughed as he handed it to Minho. Minho looked at Hyunjin with a serious face.

“Remember, as soon as I fire that bullet.” Minho started.

“Get her out of there.” Hyunjin finished.

“Whatever happens Hyunjin. Please protect her.” Minho placed his hand on Hyunjin’s shoulder and Hyunjin nodded.

“With my life.”

********************************************************

“All three of you. In one vicinity. How delightful it is to see such a scene, and how pathetic it is to see the son of Hyun-woo sacrificing his life yet again for a woman.” Hyunjin clenched his jaw as he looked at you and you stared back. He was hard to read, something that never was difficult before. He looked busy in his mind, thinking about something deeply. You turned to Minho and he looked down at you as you tried to read him. Blank. You felt your heartbeat quicken and the pit of your stomach felt light. Where were they? Why were they not with you?

“Since I have you three here, I might as well use this to my advantage.” your grandfather stepped closer and looked at Minho.

“Shoot her.”

“Don’t you dare.” Hyunjin growled.

“Shoot her Minho.”

“Minho I swear to god, don’t you dare pull that trigger.”

“No?” Your grandfather looked at Hyunjin and he smiled at him. “ Then you pull it Hyunjin. Pull yours.”

You looked at the scene and felt tears brim your eyes. Nothing felt right and this was not the plan. You looked to Hyunjin and then Minho. Minho began to shake and you pleaded with your eyes.

“I don’t care who pulls the trigger, it means nothing to me. One of you has to die anyways…”

Those words sent chills down your spine. No matter the outcome, your grandfather felt no remorse if anyone were to die. It was painful, but not shocking. He ordered the death of your family and has no sense of guilt for what he has done. You bit your lip and almost felt like the plan would have caused nothing but more anger and pain. So maybe you would be okay if Minho pulled the trigger. Maybe this was the best thing for everyone.

“You heard him Y/N.” Minho said softly and you looked at him in fear as he cocked his gun back and you saw the light escape his eyes, full blown rage.

“One of us has to die.”

You closed your eyes, letting a tear run down your cheek as you heard the sound of the gun fire off.

Instant ringing.

You felt your heart slow and your head buzzed. You opened your eyes slowly and heard the drowning sound of Minho kneeling in front of you, screaming.

“Y/N. GET UP.” You looked at Minho confused as he cut you out of your restraints, Hyunjin behind him reaching for your arm. The sounds of guns began shooting off as you were pulled up from your knees, stumbling. You saw the boys in front shooting guns at the men on the sides, bodies falling as you dodged.

“COME ON LET'S GO.” Hyunjin grabbed your hand as you looked at him and he took you. You turned your head and watched Minho shoot back at people and your grandfather lying on the floor. Blood pooled his body and your eyes widened in disbelief. This wasn’t the plan.

All too quickly you saw Minho get struck with a bullet and fall back and you stopped in your tracks and pulled from Hyunjin’s grip.

“MINHO!” You screeched and began running back and Hyunjin turned and grabbed you around the waist as he pulled you back.

“Y/N, NO!” He screamed and you began to cry as you were carried away and saw Seungmin run to Minho’s body and kept shooting.

“LET’S GO!” You heard someone yell as men began retreating. Hyunjin brought you to the car and put you in as you felt your body go numb. Hyunjin ran to the drivers side and you saw cars with your cousins begin driving past you.

“We gotta go.” Hyunjin said as he started the car and began following the cars.

Your mind was in too many places. Nothing made sense. Your grandfather was dead. And Minho shot him.

Minho was shot.

“This wasn’t the plan.” You softly said and Hyunjin looked over to you and sighed.

“I know.”

You sat in the passenger seat and watched the cars in front. Your family was driving, Minho may be there. You had no idea what was happening but you were near your family at least.

Until the cars turned in different directions. Opposite ways and you and Hyunjin kept going forward. You turned your head back frantically as Hyunjin sped forward.

“My family.” You said and Hyunjin didn’t budge.

“Hyunjin... my family.” You looked at him as he kept his eyes in the road. You were growing frustrated and you grabbed his gun and aimed it at him.

“Hyunjin, stop the car.” You watched as he sighed and side eyed you and you cocked the gun back and screamed.

“STOP THE CAR!”

Hyunjin cursed and slammed on the brakes and you held yourself up from crashing into the front of the car.

Hyunjin opened his car door and got out as you watched in disbelief and got out of the car too. He walked around the front of the car and you kept going

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT HUH?! I TOLD YOU GUYS THE PLAN! YOU DIDN’T FOLLOW THE PLAN! WE NEED TO GO BACK. MY FAMILY IS IN DANGER. MINHO IS HURT. GRANDFATHER IS DEAD!

“Y/N.” Hyunjin said quietly as you were panicking and hitting your fists against his chest.

“THEY NEED ME. YOU WERE SUPPOSE TO SHOOT ME NOT HIM THAT WAS THE PLAN!”

Hyunjin pulled the white note out of his pocket and raised it in the air and yelled back.

“THIS Y/N!? THIS IS YOUR PLAN!?”

You stopped and looked at the note you had written for Hyunjin. He groaned and calmed down as you felt the tears fall from your face. He watched you and took your hand in his.

“What we did back there. That was the only way. That was the only way out.” Hyunjin told you as you shook your head.

“Hyunjin, what you guys did back there… you just started a war. We are all in danger now. All of us, they won’t stop till I’m dead. Our baby Hyunjin, our baby is in danger. They won’t quit..”

“Y/N” Hyunjin clasps his hands over your cheeks and you look up at him in his eyes. He wiped your tears away.

“I’m taking you far away. A safe place where no one will find us and we can raise our child.”

“But my family and Minho..” you interrupted and Hyunjin wiped another tear.

“Will be fine. They know the plan. They know the risks. Your safety is their priority.”

You look down at your feet and Hyunjin lifted your chin back up to meet eyes and he kissed you softly. He slid his hand over your stomach and you grinned a bit. Hyunjin pulled back and looked at you again.

“This is my priority. You are my life. We are going to have this baby. And this child is a gift, a reason to start anew.”

You smiled and thought about his words as you raised your hands to caress his face and he smiled at you before leaning in to capture your lips in one last kiss.

Because this was the beginning to a new end. This was where you and the love of your life made a new start. This man, who you have loved for years. The person who makes your heart skip a beat when he walks in a room. He who made you feel safe and secured. From the moment you said ‘I do’ you knew that this man was your eternal. He was the one you couldn’t live life without. You two were cut from the same strand, two souls as one.

“I love you Hwang Y/N.” Hyunjin softly said against your lips, forehead pressed against your.

“I love you too, Hwang Hyunjin.”

A/N: hi everyone! i do apologize for the postponement. Thank you for your patience and love. I am doing very well and with family. Thank you ❤️ this is the end my loves. its bittersweet truthfully and i am very happy to have shared this story with you. As always let me know your thoughts and feelings. please stay tuned for my next series, Everlasting.

Taglist: @hyunfeji @zenzedana @datura-inoxia @ninjaleeknow @beethiin @hyunsxle @hwangful @huntressfrost25 @exonations @p0t4t0don14ll @beaann @minaamhh

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ragewerthers · 3 years

Text

Near... Far... Wherever You Are...

Summary: All he wanted to do was enjoy a nice, calm commute to work with his husband. But thanks to some construction and a partner who thrives on coffee and chaos, there's little chance that Daichi is going to get his wish this morning.

A/n: This is my first entry for KuroDai Week 2021!

I went with: commute for the prompt!

This was really fun to write as I feel like I haven't written these two in forever! Hopefully you can enjoy it as well!

You can also read on AO3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31143008

Enjoy! :D

Word Count: 1395

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

There were many things Daichi was grateful for in life.

A fantastic job teaching history at the local University.

A comfortable apartment that left him wanting for nothing.

And the love of one of the most amazing men he’d ever met, who also just so happened to be a science professor at the same school.

Truly he was a blessed man.

However…

The love of his life was currently two horribly out of tune song lyrics away from being throttled where he sat in the driver’s seat of their car.

They’d been stuck in traffic for over half an hour now on their daily commute to work. Construction was the main culprit and sadly small spaces combined with a coffee filled Kuroo did not go hand in hand.

God help him.

“Do you REALLY want to hurt ME?!”

“Yes.” “Do YOU really want to MAKE me CRY?!”

“God yes.”

Kuroo turned his golden eyes on Daichi, a smirk on his lips as he reached over to turn down the radio. “Come on, Dai. You know you love my singing,” he cooed, leaning over into Daichi’s space.

With a petulant grumble, the shorter man brought his hand up to push at his annoying partner's face in an attempt to stop the invasion of his personal bubble. “I never said that,” he pointed out once Kuroo finally relented and sat back in his seat. “I said I love you. Your singing, however, can raise the dead.”

Kuroo gasped at the accusation, one hand flying up to cover his mouth as the other rested dramatically over his chest.

“You wound me, Sa’amura! Was it not my crooning that once brought you to your dorm window late at night?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows at his grouchy darling.

Daichi tried to hide the smile that attempted to break free when he saw the ridiculous display. His arms crossing over his chest in defiance of it. “No. It was the yowling of a stray cat at ass o’clock in the evening that got me out of bed,” he retorted, though this time he couldn’t stop the smile from escaping as he noticed Kuroo’s pout.

“Lies and slander!” Kuroo lamented. “You’re going to sit there and tell me that my soulful serenade did nothing to your heart?!”

Daichi couldn’t hold back a snort as a giggle broke free hearing this ridiculous man’s diatribe. Quickly he tried to turn his head, not wanting to give up his grouchy facade just yet.

“No. Not a single thing. The damage to my ears, however, has been irreparab-ahahaha!” Daichi’s rather witty retort, if he did say so himself, was rudely interrupted by his own laughter when he felt Kuroo’s fingers now invading his space to attack his side.

“That is just rude, Daichi! I sang my heart out for you and all you can do is make jokes about it! How am I supposed to look you in the eyes ever again?!” Kuroo cried out dramatically, though the effect was ruined by the playful smile on his face as he continued his attack, sending nibbling pinches and soft scribbles all along Daichi’s side.

“Stahahahap it y-you… you mahahangy caha-NO! Ah! K-Kuroo nahahat thahahat!” Daichi begged as Kuroo’s hand instantly dropped down to squeeze his knee, sending a ticklish jolt right up Daichi’s spine.

“Oh ho? What was that, Dai? Did I hear an apology teetering on the tip of your tongue?” Kuroo asked, his fingers giving another soft squeeze and making Daichi jump in his seat with a small yelp. He glanced around at the cars surrounding their own praying no one saw this embarrassing display..

“D=Don’t you dare do this, Kuroo! I swear to god I will bury your body under the campus librar-HEHEHEE! Y-YOU BAHAHAHASTARD!” Daichi positively lost it as Kuroo’s fingers went on the attack, squeezing and kneading into the muscles surrounding his poor knee. Somehow being in this cramped and confined space with little room to escape just made him feel that much more vulnerable. Daichi’s body really couldn’t help but to react on instinct, shimmying like a worm even as he kicked and rocked around in his seat.

“Ready to apologize yet, Dai?” Kuroo cooed as he focused on a particular bad spot on Daichi’s inner knee that made him shriek through his laughter.

“NO-nonononahahahaha!” he reflexively cried out as Kuroo’s hand shot back up to taser and squeeze at his lower ribs.

“Oh? Still feeling feisty, huh? Then I guess you just have to suffer the consequences!” Kuroo teased as his hand moved over to vibrate right against Daichi’s stomach, sending the poor man into the loudest belly laughter yet.

However, just when Daichi thought he would have to admit defeat the blaring of a horn startled them both back to reality.

Daichi slumped in his seat, panting and giggling as he noticed Kuroo glancing in the rearview mirror. His husband either gave the other driver a wave… or perhaps something else a bit less friendly if he knew the man at all.

Sadly, Daichi honestly couldn’t tell as he continued to recover from that tickle attack, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. Apparently they’d been so caught up in their own little war of wills that their lane had started to inch forward and the car behind them thought this was a matter of life or death.

As he calmed down, Daichi glanced over to the car beside him, meeting the concerned gaze of the other driver. The look the guy was giving him was absolutely silently asking if everything was okay after witnessing what, Daichi could only assume, looked like electric shock therapy happening in the passenger side of their car.

Daichi’s cheeks flushed scarlet as he realized what others had seen and he worked up the energy to offer a wobbly smile before nodding. Ending the sad display with the worlds most awkward thumbs up before turning around and slumping in his seat.

“You... are such… an ass,” he grumbled as Kuroo now kept his eyes ahead of him, attempting to creep forward along with the rest of traffic. “But… I’ll admit that your singing isn’t… that bad.”

A slightly smug but warm smile appeared over Kuroo’s lips as he heard this admittance and he spared his poor embarrassed darling a glance. “I knew it,” he said, puffing his chest out a bit as he turned his eyes back to the road. “I knew you were only teasing me! No one can resist my dulcet tones!”

Daichi couldn’t help rolling his eyes as he watched his partner reach over to turn the radio back up. But as he heard the first few notes, concern began to bubble in his chest, his eyes glancing over to see Kuroo instantly perking up as the song played.

“Daichi! It’s our song! The one I sang to you that night!” he exclaimed, already starting to sway in time with the music as Daichi’s mind instantly relived the mortification of that night.

“God, please no!”

“Every night in MY dreams! I SEE you! I feeeeel you!!”

“Kuroo please! The other drivers are staring!” Daichi pleaded even as a smile began to spread across his face.

“That is how I KNOW you go OOOOON!”

“K-Kuroo plehehease!” Daichi found himself giggling now as he tried to reach over to cover Kuroo’s mouth, but his husband would not be silenced.

“FAR across the distance… and spaces BETWEEEEN US! You have come to SHOW you go OOOON! Come on, Dai! You know the words!” Kuroo called out as Daichi laughed at the absurdity of it all. But really… when had he ever been able to ignore his husband's antics? And that was how Daichi found himself taking a deep breath and hoping the man in the car behind them would enjoy their impromptu concert.

“Near… far…. WHEREEEEEEEVER YOU ARE!” he belted out, sending Kuroo into one of his wild, hyena laughing fits. Their shenanigans earning them a few honks and shouts from the cars surrounding them as people enjoyed the break in the monotony of gridlock.

Finally, Kuroo was able to catch his breath enough to join in once more.

“MY HEART WILL GO ON AND OOOOON!”

There were many things Daichi was grateful for in life.

And now, getting stuck in traffic with this amazing, ridiculous man was just another one of them.

#KuroDai Week 2021 #KuroDaiWeek2021 #Sawamura Daichi #Kuroo Tetsurou #Haikyuu!#my fics #tickle fic #Fluff #Humor #I love these two so much

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pascalpanic · 4 years

Text

Blood, Sweat, and Tears (Javier Peña x f!Reader)- Epilogue

Summary: You and Javier get your happily ever after.

W/C: 792

Warnings: language, mentions of pregnancy and labor

A/N: YOU GUYS. Thank you for riding this emotional rollercoaster with me! I’m so honored that you guys liked it. I’ll have the prologue to my new Javi series, Caffeine Rush, coming sometime next week! Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in it!

previous chapter | 💗

A framed photo sits on your nightstand, and has for the past few weeks. You’re not in it, Javier protested when you put it in the frame, but you swear it’s your favorite image in all of existence.

Steve, Connie, and Javier sit next to each other on a couch, each with a beer in one hand and a baby in their arms. Olivia, the Murphys’ little girl, has her face buried in her father’s chest. Tatiana, their newborn, is cuddled in her mother’s arms. Valeria Peña has inherited her father’s charm and looks at the camera with big brown eyes and a toothless smile, Javier’s free hand on her stomach. The four with visible faces are grinning, a rare sight from Steve and an even rarer sight from Javier.

Four years have passed, fading the scar on Javier’s abdomen to a white line between two ribs and just above his liver. Escobar died seemingly ages ago now, and Steve and Javier were both there to witness it. The Murphys adopted Olivia when the two men found her during a chase, and the new family moved to Miami immediately after. It was a promise kept after Connie’s order to Steve in the hospital, so far back in your memory. A year after moving back, Steve was recruited to teach at the DEA headquarters in D.C., and the Murphys moved up. Tatiana, who you all called Ana (partially in honor of you) was born two months ago now.

You and Javier remained in Bogotá for a bit, then Calí when Javier received a promotion. Javier was offered a job at DEA headquarters after a year, and took it. That’s where you resided for a few years, before the two of you became three. You moved from the city to Arlington, two blocks from the Murphy residence.

The other photo has you and Connie arm in arm, each holding your stomachs. Connie’s bump, only four months, was tiny compared to your swollen belly, nine months along. You both look excited, each holding an ultrasound image. Lorena took the photo.

Lorena moved to the U.S. a year after you and Javier had. She lived with the two of you for a few months before finding her footing and moving into a nearby apartment. She now works at a nearby hospital in labor and delivery, and is dating one of Javi’s DEA trainees. She’d helped deliver both Valeria and Ana. You had to laugh; it was fitting that she’d been at your side while rescuing your now-husband, letting you cry into her shoulder, and at your side while you pushed your daughter into the world.

Valeria is the image of her father. She has large brown eyes and wavy dark hair that sprouted from her tiny head. She’s seven months now and the absolute light of both your and her father’s life. Every day, she coos to her father as he walks out the door, earning her a “ten un buen dia, muñequita” and a kiss on the head. On days she wants him to stay, she’ll tug on his tie, making Javi pout and consider staying home for the day.

Life cannot be any better, you hum a quiet chuckle, rolling over in your husband’s arms and kissing his face softly. It’s early in the morning, before either of you need to be awake. Surprisingly, you woke on your own, not to Valeria’s cries. It wouldn’t have mattered if you did: Javier’s a naturally light sleeper, and always beats you to the side of her crib. She likes her father more than you, you always tease. He responds that it’s because he carries a gun. You tell him that his joke is stupid and so is he and he responds that you can’t hate them that much because he’s still right there, and then he kisses you gently and rocks his little girl and sings Spanish lullabies that send his daughter right back to sleep.

He wakes up from the kiss, smiling softly at you. “Why are you up?” He murmurs, voice rough and rasping. “Do I need to get Val?” he asks, sitting up.

“No,” you shake your head and cup his face. “I was just admiring you. We don’t have to be up for a while, you can go back to sleep. Sorry I woke you.”

“Mm, s’alright,” Javi slurs with a small smile on his face. “Love you,” he tells you and kisses your forehead as he lies back down.

“I love you too, Superman,” you mumble and press a kiss to his lips. He reciprocates for just a moment before pulling away and pulling you into his chest.

“Sleep, mi ángel. Te amo…”

“Y nunca lo olvides,” you finish with a soft smile, your eyes falling shut once more.

taglist:

hi my dearest BST taglisters! lmk if you’d like to be on the taglist for my new Javi series! THANK YOU for reading Blood, Sweat, and Tears!

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @softly-sad @blo0dangel @luxurybeskar @binarydanvvers @diogodxlot @wonderlandgabby @yooforia @sara-alonso @dodgerandevans @pedrosmustache @apascalrascal @tanyaherondale @marydjarin @obsessivelysearching @sleep-tight1 @drinkingwhileblogging @pedro-pastel @notabotiswear @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel

#javier peña x reader #javier peña #javi peña #javi peña x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #blood sweat and tears #pascalpanic

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mssirey · 4 years

Text

Hope (part 10 - finale)

Everything can now be read all together on AO3!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

Kara went still.

Her face melted into a smooth, blank stare, and the sight of it invited icy tendrils to grip Lena’s exposed heart, squeezing until all she could do was gasp pitifully. Lena slammed the flat of her hand against the field that kept them apart, crackles dispersing around her skin, but Kara didn’t so much as blink.

It had taken every bit of her courage to put words to the tightness in her chest, to name the heaviness that beat against her ribs, to acknowledge the way gravity had turned against reason and her orbit circled one person. She had never let herself consider it, shrank away from it, welcomed darker thoughts in its place. Love was a fool’s game, after all, and Lena had long refused to play.

In the end, she was a fool and the universe proved its point in its ruthless fashion, her admission met with utter silence, not even a whisper to ease her doubts. Mercy was never meant for her.

Kara was lost—fallen out of reach—and Lena was ready to follow her, to sink beneath the tide of panic and be forgotten by the world. There was no telling what might surface, but she preferred not to see it.

The first break in the stillness was the soft flutter of Kara’s eyelashes and the well of tears that fell down marred cheeks, salted already weeping wounds. “No, no, no, no, Lena,” she whispered, syllables wet and slurred together. Her face cracked, her brow heavy with her devastation, her eyes stormy.

“Kara?” Lena didn’t dare hope, couldn’t survive being wrong, but her heart wished so deeply for it to be Kara—safe and whole.

Kara blinked, jarred from her sputtering, and her head cocked, her gaze distant, looking inward. “Yes,” she breathed, with a startled little laugh. “It’s me! Just me!”

Lena exhaled all the weight she harbored, sank back to sit fully on the floor, numb overtaking her limbs, closing in on the rest of her. “Fuck,” she panted and her body gave out as tension bled away, leaving her a boneless mess. She laid back, covered her face with her shaking hands, and willed her heart to steady.

There was relief, unquestionably, but there was also the sense that she had to answer for the hand she had in the course of events and she was tapped dry of courage. When she could feel her face again, she turned onto her side and lifted onto still trembling hands. She crawled until she felt her legs could support her and then set herself to task.

Kara called after her, her voice warbling and frantic. “Lena, where are you—”

“If Lex thinks I can’t break into a cell I designed, he only has his ego to blame,” she huffed, putting her hands to work rather than facing the continuation of their conversation. She didn’t aim for finesse as she pried the control panel open with ill-suited tools and in a matter of minutes, the door slid open.

Kara had gotten to her feet, and once freed, sidled out with her head hung and her gaze flitting between Lena’s face and the floor at her feet. “Lena, I, um… will you let me say something?”

Lena couldn’t summon the walls of her fortress fast enough, couldn’t contain her spilling heart, but for the first time, that wasn’t as terrifying as the thought of never trying to meet Kara. She nodded.

“I am sorry, Lena,” Kara said as she fidgeted, her hands each seeming to work to keep the other from reaching out. “I worried endlessly about what might happen if I told you—”

“For four years?” Lena was reluctant to press, afraid of what she would find when she opened that vein. Her lips were ready to drink from any cup offered—cracked and broken as they were—but she knew poison when it was fed to her.

Kara gave a pained nod. “I hold onto things too tightly— I always have.” She tried to force a smile, but it never quite stuck. “After everything I’ve lost, I…”

Lena’s stomach twisted, trapped in a vice with jagged teeth that rent her open, let the acid wash into her gut and devour her from within. “Kara, that’s not fair.” How was she supposed to justify her hurt when set against the backdrop of Kara’s loss?

Kara was floundering, lost and trembling. “No, I know, hang on— just, um, let me finish?”

Lena could only offer a stiff dip of her head. She watched Kara’s head lift, her eyes turned up towards the ceiling, her lips moving in a silent whisper—a prayer. When her gaze returned, she was steeled.

“I felt helpless… hopeless, that’s true, but instead of trusting what we had, I let my fears back me into every wrong choice.” All Lena heard was that Kara didn’t trust her and it punched straight into the hollow pit at her core—gave credence to the haunting whispers she argued so fervently against when alone with her thoughts. “I just… I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

It didn’t make sense and her mind screeched its alarm, telling her to run. “I was always there for you,” Lena reminded, her voice cracking under the strain of her withering composer, her knees degrading with the rest of her, ready to give out.

Kara chewed at her lip, but forced her chin to stay lifted, refusing to bend under her guilt. “You were,” she managed. “You’ve always made me feel so whole and I—” her eyes closed as tears streamed down her cheeks, “I didn’t let myself think about how little of me was present for you.” She exhaled shakily before she looked at Lena properly once more. “You deserved better from me, Lena.”

Lena’s doubts feasted, spun every word into another lie, mocked her with the awareness that there was no way to truly know if she was being spoon fed exactly what she wanted to hear. She needed something tangible to hold onto, and without thinking, found herself walking forward. Kara let her approach, watched with wide eyes, her uncertainty stiffening her back.

Lena stepped into Kara’s space and hesitantly reached out. Kara’s hands untangled and fell away from each other, affording Lena more room, and she took it. As soon as her arms encircled Kara, she sank forward, no longer able to deny needing to be held.

“I’m so sorry, Lena,” Kara whispered into her hair as she wrapped Lena up in the shelter of her embrace, cautious at first, but then shifting to pull Lena closer, taking the weight from her with sturdy hands.

Kara’s support allowed her to let go of her boxes, to let the seams of her wretched masks unravel, to fall apart and trust that she wouldn’t be alone to put herself back together. She buried her face in Kara’s neck and wept. Lena clutched tight to the fabric at her fingertips, secured the source of warmth that cushioned her fall. Kara made no mention of the tears that dampened her shirt, only soothed a hand along her back.

With the floodgates opened, her doubts spilled outward. “What did I do to—”

Kara shook her head and squeezed Lena tighter. “You didn’t do anything, Lena, I promise.”

“Then what were you afraid of?”

Kara’s chest expanded in her arms and Lena could feel the heaviness of her heart, the quickened thud against her cheek. “I was scared of letting you down.”

That struck a chord in Lena, plucked at the very strings that appeared in every arrangement she wrote. It was the undercurrent that steered her towards grand gestures and worse decisions, and why she tried so desperately to earn affection. She never felt worthy unless she compensated for every debt, and every misstep, and sometimes it was never enough.

For Kara it had been, or so she had been led to believe. She had bought into it blindly, unaware she was staking her heart until it was too late.

“Kara Danvers is not all of who I am, but she was who I wanted to be.” She tucked her head closer, as if to ensure that her words reached Lena’s ear. “She was important to you and I… I didn’t know how to give that up.”

Lena still couldn’t understand why she was singled out and it tightened her throat until she couldn’t swallow the reasoning.

Kara was important to everyone. She forged light out of her own darkness; she strived not only to be good, but to see good when others might turn away; she understood the power of kindness and empathy; she encouraged strength by way of example; she embodied hope, not in grandness, but in nuance. No one in her life would say different.

“Why me?”

Kara pulled back so abruptly that the air seemed to go with her and Lena’s lungs struggled to fill, but then warm, tender hands cupped her cheeks, and she melted into them. “Lena,” she breathed, her resolve beared down upon Lena with such intensity, her gaze unwavering, “it’s because I love you.”

That was one possibility Lena had never considered and it ripped up every logical foundation her doubts relied on. Her mind went quiet, slowly calibrating to the new way of framing events, wondering how the two of them could have been such fools.

“I’m sorry I let you think otherwise,” Kara said, her hands quivering, her courage wavering. “You are so, so important to me, Lena, and you always will be.”

Lena’s hands lifted to Kara’s wrists, fingers curled around them, wishing she could keep them there. “You promise?”

Kara nodded, relief mixing with eagerness in her eyes. “Yes! Yes, whatever the future brings, whatever we have to face out there,” her gaze flicked to the lab door before returning to Lena, “I’ll be here for you.”

Lena’s breath hitched, her lungs over-full, a spark of warmth igniting in her heart. Her shoulders were less burdened, or her spine sturdier, it was hard to be certain. Her tears didn’t sting the same, instead seemed like a welcome cleansing. Her smile didn’t need to be forced.

Perhaps that’s what hope felt like.

Lena didn’t mind it.

#hope au #lena luthor #kara danvers #supercorp #my writing

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dustofbrokenheart · 4 years

Text

The Covenant: Sweet Dreams

Part One | Part Two

Chase Collins x Reader

Word Count: 1,931

Warning: contains physical intimacy and some mature language

Summary: You’ve been away for weeks and Chase has no problems Using to prove just how much he misses you.

It was cold and snowy outside, but the bed was cozy, the comforter wrapped around you thick. Added with a mattress with the right level of firmness and fluffy hotel pillows, and sleep came easy.

In one moment, you were curled on your side, drowsily watching the occasional flash of headlights that filtered in through the blinds. In the next, everything went black. The black was absolute, but not frightening. It was the kind of black that made you feel safe, like when you closed your eyes after a long day and shut everything else out.

Suddenly, you felt another presence in the dark and knew you were no longer alone. A crooning voice whispered in your ear. “Open those eyes for me, pet… there you go… that’s it.”

It took considerable effort but you manage to flutter your lids open like the sweet voice prompted. Something in that voice made it impossible to resist listening to it and you sighed in relief when you felt the voice’s fingers stroke your scalp in reward.

Gathering more strength now that your eyes were open, you turned your head toward the presence and saw that the fingers and the voice belonged to the same person. One that you knew. Knew very well, actually, seeing as how he was your boyfriend.

“Chase, what are you doing here?”

He smiled that signature smile of his. The one that always seemed so sweet at first glance, but masked the edge he normally tried to hide. “What? A guy can’t visit the love of his life?”

His words had you fully awake and you sat up, the darkness transitioning into the familiar view of your bedroom. “Wait. Are you real?” You peered around, your eyesight quickly adjusting. Saw your alarm clock on the nightstand. The piles of clothes that needed to be put away sitting on top of your desk.

He merely laid back on the bed and crossed his arms behind his head. “Well, not physically. But that doesn’t mean it’s not really me.”

You looked again and noticed how the edges of the room looked blurry, like someone had smudged the lines of the ceiling and floor. But everything else appeared perfect and you had definitely felt Chase touching you just now…

“So it’s a dream then,” you concluded. You smacked his chest with the back of your hand after a moment. “You promised to stop being so reckless with your powers, you idiot.”

“This isn’t reckless. I haven’t seen you in two weeks. That qualifies this dreamscape as an emergency in my book.”

He was right about that part. It had been weeks since you’d last seen one another. You had been traveling for research related to your master’s degree program and wouldn’t be flying home for another few days. In hind sight, that fact alone should’ve been enough for you to realize this was taking place in a dream space.

“As much as I love hearing that you miss me, this doesn’t count as an emergency, Chase.” He pouted, resting his head on your lap so he could rub his face into your thighs. “But since you’ve already went and done it… I happy you’re here.”

“Good. That means I can move to the next phase of my plan,” he murmured under his breath as if accidently thinking out loud. Which was a lie, of course. Chase was so self-aware that he never said anything by accident. If he said it out loud, it was because he wanted you to you hear him.

“Next phase?” you asked, playing along with his game.

“Well, you see—I think best if I just show you.” He picked up his head to press a kiss to your covered thigh, making sure to make eye contact with you. There was no mistaking the heat in his eyes.

His kisses moved upward to your hip. To your stomach. To your ribs. To your neck. Until he finally reached your mouth. He kept it very chaste, opting to press a fleeting closed-lip kiss to the side of your mouth. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach and you shivered.

He pulled back, holding your face securely in his hands. “What do you say, hmn? Shall we continue?”

Before you could consciously think about it, your head was nodding up and down. The mood instantly changed from sweet touches to hungry intent. Black started leeching from the pupil to completely cover both of Chase’s eyes and you knew you were in for it.

You saw was the flash of his fire rimmed eyes and suddenly you were laid flat out on your back. The sheets were cool against your naked skin, bared completely nude for Chase’s own viewing pleasure. A blindfold took away your vision, leaving you in darkness once again. Unlike when you were trying to fall asleep, you were now hyper-alert for any sounds or touches in order to compensate for the loss.

Next, your arms were pulled up above your head. A quick test proved that your wrists were wrapped in sooth silk, likely conjured by your boyfriend, and bound to your headboard; your arms wouldn’t be moving until Chase allowed it. Your heart was already hammering in your chest and nothing had even happened yet.

He parted your legs so that he could position himself in between them. He spread them into a wide ‘v’ and spanked one of your thighs. “Keep them open, okay? Otherwise they get tied up too.”

He moved up your body to hover over your chest and you made sure not to move your legs. Chase demanded obedience and he was petty enough to leave you tied up, and untouched, if you didn’t follow the rules.

He leaned down to take one of your nipples into his mouth, his warm breath raising goosebumps around the area. The touch seemed even more sensual now that you couldn’t see it coming. He alternated between strong sucks and playful flicks of his tongue. Not wanting to leave the other out, his hand crept up to grasp the bud with his fingers, stroking it masterfully until it hardened into a peak.

You sighed in bliss, the thread connecting your sensitive nipples to your sex lighting up. He wasn’t satisfied though.

“I know you’re louder than that. Come on, let me hear you,” he said pinching your nipple. The pinch made you squirm and he followed it with a drawn-out lick to ease the pain.

The familiar duality of hard-soft treatment got you to release your first moan of the night and even though you couldn’t confirm it, you just knew that Chase had a smug grin on his face. “Louder,” he insisted darkly. The rumble of his voice combined with his sinful touches had you mewling, your back arching to keep his mouth on you.

“That’s more like it,” he purred.

With a parting lick, he detached himself completely and you had no idea what he would do next—your hearing no help since your heavy moaning drowned out every other sound. He left you in suspense for a few minutes, your body wound tight, and it wasn’t until you shifted your legs that he made his move.

“Uh uh uh,” he tsked in a sing-song voice. “What did I say? And I thought you were going to be good for me.”

“I do,” you breathed. “I promise I want to be good!”

His nails dug in to the flesh of your thighs, forcefully, his fingers gripping tight enough to leave marks. More silk wrapped around your ankles and it yanked so that you were forced into a split. It wasn’t the max limit of your flexibility, but it was enough to feel a stretching sensation in your muscles.

Without warning, he cupped you in his hand which had you bucking your hips. You were already slick and he coated his fingers, running them over you to make you even more slick while you trembled. Once he was content, he pulled away again and you grunted, restless on the bed.

“Patience, pet. I’m thinking.”

His gaze was laser focused on your sex as he stroked near your groin. He wasn’t sure whether to continue using his hands or if he should switch to his mouth. He was watering for a taste of you, but you really hadn’t earned that treat…

Oh well, he sighed. It couldn’t be helped. You needed to be taught a lesson. Besides, he knew you would look even better once you were a writhing mess.

He curled his fingers and pumped you once. Caught by surprise, you moaned lewdly, your hips canting to follow his movements.

“Here’s what’s going to happen—you’re going count every pump I give you until you get to fifteen. Then, if I want, I’ll use my mouth. Deal?”

It sounded like a trap. There was no way it wasn’t. Being stroked instead of spanked? Chase was a text book definition of a smooth talker who could sell ice to Eskimos. As good as the offer sounded, you knew it couldn’t be as easy as it seemed. Having no choice but to accept, you nodded.

He pumped again, slowly and with a tantalizing stroke at the end that had you straining against the silk bonds. And then he pressed his thumb down on a sensitive spot of nerves and made harsh, tight circles.

“One,” you gasped, lightning streaking through you. If it was that good after only one, there was no way you were get to fifteen without cumming. And that would be all the excuse he needed to deliver a harder punishment. You were definitely in trouble.

He went to touch you again when you were interrupted by a distant knock. Chase went deadly still and you turned towards the sound, still blindfolded. Another knock sounded, louder than the first time.

The restraints holding your limbs disappeared, followed quickly by the blindfold. All around, your bedroom was slipping away piece by piece and faster every second until just the bed remained. Confused, you faced Chase only to see him trembling in fury.

“Dammit,” he snarled. Then it all went blank.

Blinking your eyes, you found yourself back in the hotel room. A bit disoriented, you were awake enough to hear more knocking coming from down the hall. You heard a door open and a heated flurry of hushed whispers as the person knocking was presumably admitted into their room. The door slammed shut and then all was quiet again.

You picked up the clock from the bedside table and groaned in disappointment when it read 2:46 AM. Unfortunately, it would be while before you were able to fall back asleep now that you were wide awake. Down sides of being a particular sleeper.

And not only would you be unable to go back to sleep immediately, you were now left turned on with no boyfriend to finish you off. Your only consolation was that Chase was just as frustrated as you. Perhaps even more so.

It wasn’t often he wore his emotions clearly, especially in the bedroom, but his expletive more than gave him away, his parting snarl still echoing in your ears. He was pissed at being denied. Served him right for using his powers irresponsibly like that.

You amused yourself by imagining that he’d get so worked up, he’d call to finish what he started. A highly unlikely, but very intriguing fantasy. But then your phone lit up from where it peeked out under the covers to announce an incoming call.

You smirked in the darkness.

Looked like your fantasy might not be as unlikely as you thought.

_______________

My first time writing for Chase! Was it alright? Thanks to @dhampiravidi for agreeing that he’s a kinky one. And thanks to anyone who reads!

#the covenant #chase collins #chase collins x reader #imagines #sebastian stan #rated m for mature

127 notes · View notes

jooniyah · 4 years

Text

Poison Apple

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

AU: Yandere!au, Moneylender!Taehyung

Genre: Angst, Mature, Smut

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

Word count: 22.35k

I was angry with my foe: I told it not, my wrath did grow. And I waterd it in fears, Night & morning with my tears: And I sunned it with smiles, And with soft deceitful wiles. And it grew both day and night. Till it bore an apple bright.

- William Blake

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

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

Author’s note: This is the longest fic I’ve ever written. I’ve been mulling it over in my head for years now. Please don’t come at my throat, it is non-con yandere. Enjoy!

*****

“Baby?” you chirped, watching your husband absent-mindedly stare at the windows. You huffed, turning off the stove and brandishing the ladle at him.

“Honey? You didn’t tell me if it tasted good.”

He didn’t respond, clutching the half-eaten pork rib, lost in thought.

“YOONGI,” you called out, shaking him by the shoulders, “Look at me.”

He snapped out of his trance, looking at you with bewildered eyes.

“Huh?”

The confusion on his face served to make him look even more lost.

“So, you never listened to my rant about Hoseok’s pork ribs?” He looked blank. “What happened to you, Yoongs?” you asked, clearing out the counter and perching on top of it next to him.

He sighed heavily and hung his head with a faint “Nothing.” As you stared at the soft whorl of his thick black hair, a rising panic bubbled up in your chest. It had been so long since your husband had talked more than five syllables with you. You had jumped out of bed on finding him missing one night, only to find him curled up on the terrace in the biting cold. Over the course of days, his eyes had become bloodshot. He had suddenly become a light sleeper, waking up startled on the slightest of noises. Now, looking at him, you found he had become gaunt and morbidly pale. What was it that ate away at his soul like this? He hadn’t been to his office in days, and he had switched off his work phone. You drummed your fingers nervously on the counter. Was he… was he trying to hide something from you? If so, what was it? You couldn’t help biting your nails in apprehension. Was it an affair? Was it guilt that had made him unable to look at your face? Had he cheated on you? No. You couldn’t think of marriage-killing stuff like that ever happening between you guys.

“Baby,” you tried again, reaching out to entwine his bony fingers in yours. “You can tell me anything, you know that, right? Just tell me, baby, it is killing me to see you like this.”

He remained silent, the only acknowledgment of your words being a slight squeeze of your fingers. You waited in companionable silence, holding his hand and looking at the rays of light flooding in through the windows. As you were watching little particles dancing in the sunlight, there was a harsh squeal of tires outside. Like a bullet from a gun, Yoongi jumped off the counter and dashed to the windows. He looked out and jumped back as if he were electrocuted. He tugged the blinds harshly and ran to you, clutching your hand and dragging you off the counter.

“Baby, wha…”

He turned around and you saw his countenance had grown paler than ever, all the blood drained from his face. He urgently shushed you, pulling you flush against his body and sprinting to the door. Just as his fingers circled the doorknob, the door flew wide open, crashing against the wall with a heavy thud.

Men kept storming in, all heavyset and brawny. As they closed in on you both, Yoongi slid himself in front of you, shielding you as much as he could. The men advanced towards him, causing him to back further until you were pressed against the wall. Suddenly there was a hush inside the room, and you peeked out to see a tall man entering your home in unhurried strides. The men parted like water, allowing him to amble easily towards Yoongi. He had a shock of dark hair, which was long enough to dance on his eyebrows as he walked. He was dressed all in black, his suit contrasting with his pale complexion and lending a mysterious air to him. He had broad shoulders and a slim waist, accentuated by the perfectly fitting suit.

One of the men brought him a chair, which he turned around and placed about an arm’s length from your husband. He draped his legs on the sides lazily, holding on to the top of the backrest and resting his chin on his forearms. He looked innocently at your husband, his dark eyebrows suddenly shooting up as he caught sight of your lithe body shielded by Yoongi’s lean frame. You had no idea who all these men were, but something told you they were not good news. You closed your eyes and held on to your husband’s shirt, wishing they would all go away quickly. There was a tense silence in the room that hung around like dark clouds. A rich sonorous voice cut through the silence, causing you to peek again to see who owned it. To your surprise, it was coming from the stranger seated on your chair, it was unbelievable that such an orotund voice could emanate from the willowy man.

“Well, well, Min Yoongi, you seem to not own a calendar.” The man tsked in lazy irritation. “You know I hate irregulars.”

You could feel your husband tense up, and his chest heaved with his sigh.

“ I need a few more days, Taehyung.”

The stranger addressed as Taehyung threw his head back in mock surprise, widening his eyes and cupping his cheeks.

“Oh! I would have never come if I knew I could count on your word.”

The mockery in his eyes instantly morphed into a dangerous glint, and he pushed the chair away violently as he stood up. He moved forward and bunched the collar of your husband’s shirt, leering at him with rage. His eyes moved over to your terrified ones, and he whistled.

“Look what a doll we have here.”

He thrust his arm behind Yoongi and yanked you out, clutching your forearm in a painful grip.

“No! Leave her alone!”

Yoongi was screaming, trying vainly to catch hold of you. The Taehyung guy was stronger than you thought. He never budged as you jumped and thrashed about, trying to get his hand off your arm, where you knew bruises were stirring. Yoongi charged forward with gritted teeth.

“This is only between you and me.”

Taehyung smirked. “I beg to differ.”

Two burly men clasped their arms around Yoongi’s shoulders, throwing all their weight on him to keep him locked in place. You turned to see your husband struggling against their hold, mouth snarling with his exertion. Long fingers circled the collar of your soft white nightshirt, bunching the material up and pulling you closer to their owner’s body. Taehyung’s tall frame dwarfed you, his long black bangs brushing his eyebrows as his fiery eyes stared at you. He leaned over, his nose nuzzling against yours.

“How is this just between me and him,” he breathed, eyes never leaving yours, “-when he has such a doll of a wife who clearly needs explaining?”

Your eyes quickly darted to Yoongi’s figure, when the man in black cupped your jaw and shifted your focus back to him.

“Whatever is your problem with him?” you spat at him through clenched teeth.

There was a deep hearty chuckle, which reverberated throughout his body. His eyes crinkled in amusement and he leaned back a little to survey your face.

“You don’t even know what your husband has been up to behind your back?”

You drew a sharp breath, which felt like cold ice slicing through your innards. What had Yoongi done?

“Y/N don’t look at me like that. He makes it sound so bad. It really isn’t,” Yoongi pleaded in a hoarse voice.

“Shut him up,” Taehyung ordered, and the command immediately earned Yoongi a box to the ears and a knife to his throat. Pulling the overturned chair back upright, Taehyung sat down in front of you. His slim legs were too long for the chair, which caused him to slide further in the seat with his legs jutting out, making him look like he was made up entirely of legs.

“Wanna sit on my lap while you listen, sugar?” he asked, patting his pants.

You crossed your arms, glaring at him. His casual tone was really riling you up.

“Just get on with it. And don’t call me ‘sugar’ ever.”

There was another deep chuckle. He leaned back and stretched lazily, causing two legs of the chair to hover mid-air.

“Alright, sugar. I would love to tell you all of it, but I’m in a bit of a rush.” He winked at you as he drawled, “ Pity I am not free tonight.”

Your eyes narrowed in impatience and he loved the way your face twisted in annoyance.

“Long story short, your husband owes me 50 million dollars.”

Your mouth fell open, disbelief coursing all over you. No, this had to be a mistake. Yoongi hadn’t ever mentioned being in debt. He hadn’t even been having trouble with his company. Or had he?

“You look surprised, honey.”

You were still frozen in place, not quite comprehending why Yoongi would have borrowed so much money. You looked at your husband, hoping that he would say that it was all a misunderstanding. But Yoongi had gone silent, his eyes were downcast.

“Yoongi?”

Nothing but a small nod to prove that Taehyung was indeed telling the truth.

“50 million dollars, Yoongi?” you asked, your voice incredulous. “What were you even thinking?”

“I hoped I could pay him back,“ Yoongi mumbled softly.

Taehyung crossed his legs, one hand ruffling his long unruly hair and the other gripping the chair. He gazed at you; he could almost hear the wheels turning in your head.

“Well, sugar? Which of you two is going to give me my money back?” He flicked his wrist and looked at his watch. “I want it now.”

“I … We don’t have that much money with us right now.“ Sweat blossomed on your forehead. “This is the first time I’m hearing about this.”

“Sorry I broke the news that your husband doesn’t trust you, love. But I don’t give a fuck about your trust issues. I need my money. Now.”

“Please, just give us some more time. We will pay you back somehow.”

“And how would I trust you, considering your man is already penniless? How would you pay me back?”

“We will … we will figure something out. Please, just trust me.”

He pursed his plump lips like a playful child, crinkling his eyebrows at you. Something about your doe-eyes softened him. He had almost skipped coming; the original plan had been to send only his men to your house. But now, watching your wide eyes pleading to him, he was glad he had decided to come himself. He remembered the loaded gun inside his coat pocket, which he had intended to use before he had set his eyes on you.

“Alright. Let’s see how trustable you are. You have three days.”

You heaved a sigh of relief.

“But I’ll take the bastard with me.”

The relieved smile was instantly wiped off your face.

“But…” you sputtered, hands flailing wildly. “I don’t have any idea how I…”

“He hid his debt from you. Now he has left you to clean up the mess all by yourself, huh sweetie?” He tilted his head to the side. “Are you really willing to do it for a man who didn’t even trust you, his wife?”

He could see your face flinch as his words cut through you. He decided Min Yoongi was a fool to have fallen headfirst in his trap, especially with you not knowing. But then, Yoongi would probably not have borrowed as much if you had known and stepped in to curb the snowballing of his debt. It would have foiled his trap. He smiled. He was happy that Yoongi had managed to get neck-deep in trouble.

“Don’t worry, Yoongi. I will come fetch you as soon as I can, honey.”

Taehyung’s eyebrows shot up as he caught the moment’s hesitation before the word ‘honey’. He knew it was uttered for his benefit. The word was your shield, a magic circle you drew around yourself, thinking it would help ward off his flirtatious advances. Underlining you were Yoongi’s, a taken woman. You really thought you could hide behind it? His heart warmed. You were too adorable.

Swinging his feet off the chair, he rose and strode to Yoongi. He stared at the bloodshot eyes that glared back at him.

“Let’s go, loser.”

You helplessly watched your husband being dragged out by the collar.

"I love you, Y/N. I am sorry,“ Yoongi shouted across his shoulder, as he was manhandled roughly out of the door. All the men poured out of the apartment, leaving you standing alone. Your eyes welled up as you looked at the empty doorway.

"I love you too.”

*****

You had no idea where to start. There were only three days to get all the money ready. Frankly, you were clueless. Yoongi had never been intent on saving. Almost all his earnings went back into his business. Your job as an interior designer paid well, but nowhere near millions of dollars.

It was a stupid idea, to begin with. Borrowing 50 million dollars from a goon? What even had got into Yoongi? How were you expected to pay all of it back within 3 days? It was absolutely impossible. That Taehyung guy was evidently setting you up to fail.

Your brain felt like it had stopped working. Nothing you thought of seemed to make sense. ‘Okay okay, Y/N,’ you told yourself, ‘fucking get it together.’ Your head was pounding. Every minute reminded you that you were getting closer to the deadline. It only made you even more nervous.

Your stomach tightened in a knot. It felt like you were going to be sick. ‘No,’ you muttered, ‘think of something that’ll help.’ You closed your eyes as you massaged your throbbing temples. You could visualize the sands of time rapidly falling down your 3-day sand clock.

Back at his office, Taehyung couldn’t stop thinking about you. He had never been a man of romance; his only encounters had been with easy women looking for hookups in bars. As a unique exception, he found himself obsessing over a woman who was neither easy nor available. He twirled his pen in his hands as he thought about your beautiful doe eyes. He could swear he could still smell the faint berry scent of your hairspray.

As he looked out the window, lost in thought, your visuals came rushing to him. He remembered your high nose, your slender neck, and the sharp angle of your chin that could cut his heart to shreds. Your full figure that the thin nightshirt had done little to hide. The faint gloss on your lips that had allured him. He couldn’t remember the last time that he had ever noticed another woman this much. Was it because he hadn’t been laid in weeks? He didn’t think so. There was something about you that not only inspired lust but also made him fiercely protective. He had never felt that way with any other woman. He was a man who fucked once and then closed the door on the woman for good. But with you, he wanted to own your pretty eyes. He wanted to be the man your eyes searched for in a crowd. He wanted his hand to be the one you reached for. He wanted to worship you and protect you with his entire being. Your heart, your smile, your soft hair, your lithe frame, he wanted all of it.

He looked at the gardener watering the lawn. As he eyed the little droplets of water spraying from the hose, his mind wandered to the fantasy of seeing you wearing that thin nightshirt, drenched in water so he could see everything you had to offer. A heady sensation overtook him so hard that his eyes rolled back in his head. He shook his head and looked down at his pants. Just thinking about you had brought on a hard-on.

*****

If someone had told you two years ago that Yoongi would fall in debt and lose all his money, you would have laughed in their face. Yoongi was not a newbie to the business. He was the son of the richest businessman in the county. His family was old money, and they were wildly popular in elite circles. There was not a party that his mother wasn’t invited to. People stood in respectful silence if his father walked past them. As the only son and the heir of the Min family fortune, Yoongi had a lot of expectations to live up to.

He had been burdened with expectations ever since he had been born. While other children went out on hikes and summer camps, he had the best tutors in the nation mercilessly hounding him with business tactics. While his friends read Rowling and discussed magic, he was forced to read dry books on management and debate with his tutors. He had found early on in his life that there were two kinds of people around him. The ones who wanted to be friends with him to bask in his achievements, and the ones who genuinely liked him for who he was. Like the boy who came every day to play Chess with him. No wait, there was only him, no one else was on that list. He wasn’t sure which category his university friends fell into. No one felt genuine, at the same time, no one felt utterly fake. That was one of the reasons Yoongi had a hard time trusting anyone. All that was set to change one day, thanks to his mom.

Yoongi had never kissed a girl in his life. It was not something he was proud of. Not that he wasn’t interested though. He had a bevy of girls swarming around him all the time, trying their best to catch his eye. To them, he was a gold mine that assured them a luxurious future. He was also exceptionally handsome and that sealed the deal. But he found none of them were really interested in him as an individual. He had once found an attractive girl in a frat party and had thought his first kiss was going to be with her. She had seemed smart and funny too. Until she had flashed him a gorgeous set of pearly whites saying “… so I heard you’re going to inherit the whole of the Min family estate, huh?”

It was on a late evening that Yoongi stood in his porch, nursing a Baccarat wine glass and wondering if he would step into his 24th year on Earth never having kissed a woman. That was when a car skidded to a halt before him, and you stepped out. He watched you alight and smooth your pencil skirt, an unhurried look on your pretty face. You reached again into the car to fetch your sleek briefcase and looked at your watch. A smile graced your features. Yoongi was impressed. A punctual woman. You walked with the brisk tap-taps of your heels and sailed past him without a glance. As you crossed him, he could smell the lingering flowery notes of your perfume. His phone dinged in his pocket announcing it was time for yet another overseas call. As he turned back to reach his room, your perfume lingered in a corner of his mind long after the traces of the scent had vanished.

Yoongi’s mother was an elite socialite. Her name was uttered with reverence in the high circles. She had a web of powerful friends which she relied on for anything of importance. Like when she wanted to re-decorate her office in alignment with the latest trends. She had asked Mrs. Park for ideas, and the lady had provided her with your number. You had been struggling to land a project fresh out of your apprenticeship. Mrs. Park had tried you out for her daughter’s new apartment and had found your work commendable. She had readily advised Mrs. Min to hire you, whispering conspiratorially into her phone, “She doesn’t charge as much for her work, but I think she should. She really is a steal at her price.” And so, Mrs. Min had called you to her place.

And that was the start of your new project. Mrs. Min was not a person who traveled to offices that didn’t belong to conglomerates. So, it came about that you visited her once in two days, bringing your designs and seeking her inputs on them. You found her very friendly, she listened to your explanations patiently without trying to interrupt like a know-it-all. She hadn’t any airs, contrary to what you had expected when you had first met her.

Yoongi hadn’t seen you on your previous visits. Understandable, considering his jam-packed schedule. But one innocent question to his mother told him who you were, and on what days you were expected to visit. It started as a mild curiosity on his part. He simply thought you were interesting and wished to see more of you. Increasingly, his schedule adjusted to your visits, and he often walked in on you, dropping business news to his mother while sneaking a look at you. He lived in a condo, away from his parents. But he needed to meet his father and discuss business several times a week. And given his sudden interest in you, it was a pleasure for him to drop by at his parents’ home.

Things came to a head on a stormy Friday night. You had stayed far too long in Mrs. Min’s chamber, poring over the plans and jotting down her suggestions. She had caught you staring at the empty glass on her table and had excused you to fetch yourself a drink.

“Ask the maid to hand you wine, my dear,” she urged, “We have a splendid collection.”

So, you found yourself wandering to the cellar in pursuit of a drink. Maybe it wasn’t necessary to bother the maids, you were sure you could get a glass yourself. You reached the pitch-dark cellar and felt around for the light switch. When you switched it on, the lights lit up all the shelves in a wonderful ambiance. Rows and rows of bottles were stacked on the shelves, the light catching on their glossy bodies and illuminating them. Taking all of it in, you whistled under your breath as you saw bottles dating back decades.

“I’ll be damned.”

Picking an elegant Chateau Latour, you poured some of the crimson liquid into a crystal glass and set it on the marble counter. There was a stool that you pulled and sat on, kicking off your heels. You were not a woman who wore ridiculously high heels, but the heels that day had not been exactly comfortable. You bent down, massaging your slightly sore feet, when a shadow fell on you, darkening your vision and casting a long shadow on you. You raised your head and saw a man standing before you. He hadn’t seen you; he had come in to pick a bottle for himself. You quickly rose to your feet and the sudden movement caught his attention. With a swift turn, he swung around to face you.

Yoongi had never seen you up close. It felt like a dream to him. The dim light from the shelves fell on you, highlighting your cheekbones and lending a captivating air of mystery to your features. Your eyes glinted and sparkled, the light from the bottles making it seem like you had swallowed all the stars in the sky with your eyes. He cleared his throat, running his hand through his hair as he racked his brain for a suitable line to say.

“Mr. Min, a pleasure meeting you.” Stepping forward on your naked feet, you offered him your hand.

“Likewise,” he said, giving your hand a firm shake. He smiled at you, little gummy smile and all.

“A fine collection you have here,” you ventured, nodding at the shelves.

He nodded proudly, gesturing to another row of shelves at the far back.

“We have our finest wines here, dating back centuries.”

You smiled politely, suddenly remembering your haphazardly strewn heels and the bare state of your feet. He saw you shuffling awkwardly, and his eyes landed on your feet. His eyes widened. He had never seen such dainty little toes before. With a sheepish smile, you bent down and picked up the heels, slipping your feet into them and effectively disturbing his appreciative gaze on them.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it then,” he muttered, reaching out to pick a bottle. When he turned and left, you found you had held your breath the entire time. Sighing, you finished your drink and proceeded to return to Mrs. Min’s office. A good two hours later, it was pouring with rain outside. As you filed all your papers and returned them to your briefcase, you worried about having to drive through the pounding rain. Mrs. Min seemed to read your uneasiness.

“Would you be able to ride in this downpour, dear?” She craned her head to watch the sheets of rain. “I think you’d better stay the night here.”

“Oh, that’s alright Mrs. Min, I’m sure I would be fine.”

“At least, let me send one of my people with you.” She paused and decided it wouldn’t do to send a maid or manservant with you at that hour of the night. The drivers had retired to their beds already. Wait-her son was still home.

“Let me find Min Yoongi and send him with you.”

Without waiting for an answer, she went off to her husband’s study where Yoongi usually stayed up till the wee hours of dawn, working on company matters. She was back in a couple of minutes, with Yoongi in tow.

“Allow my son to drive you,” Mrs. Min patted her son’s fine back. He nodded at you, not an over-enthusiastic nod but a crisp let’s-get-on-with-this nod. You started to feel he didn’t want to do anything with you, and it made you feel awkward.

The short ride to your apartment happened in two moods. You were nervous that Yoongi was miffed at having to drive you; Yoongi was nervous that you seemed cold and imagined you hated being alone with him. Neither of you guessed that the tension in the air between you had nothing to do with annoyance or hate.

As Yoongi nosed his car into the parking lot, you worked up the courage to say in a small voice, “Uh, would you like to come in and wait the storm out?”

Yoongi’s grip on his steering wheel tightened. He could feel his heart hammering away. The moisture in his palms started to make the steering wheel slippery. What was this? He was completely baffled. Did you want him to go in and sit with you? Or was this one of those cheeky invites to-, he shuddered, - to go in and kiss? Your intent gaze, as you waited for him to respond, was not helping his confusion in any way. Before he could think more, he found his voice saying “Sure.” He was surprised at how calm he had sounded because on the inside he was anything but.

Once inside, you made straight for the couch, nothing about your face suggested flirtation. He exhaled and calmed himself down, sitting across from you, watching you as you kicked your heels off happily. He looked around at your apartment, everything was neatly arranged, not a thing was out of place. His eyes were drawn to your biggest asset that occupied a large portion of your hall: your bookshelf.

“Virginia Woolf?” His eyebrows shot up as he scanned the shelf.

You said nothing, words refused to come out.

“Language is wine upon the lips.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, hearing those words from him, of all people. The word 'wine’ instantly took you back to that cellar, where he had stood before you, framed by that insanely beautiful light as if he were a revelation.

“Y/N?” His lips curled in a grin. “I never thought quoting Woolf was the best way to earn a woman’s reverence.”

Your cheeks flushed crimson, and you racked your brains for a witty reply.

“When you consider things like the stars, our affairs don’t seem to matter very much, do they?”

His grin widened, breaking out into a hearty chuckle. He nodded dramatically, eyes shining in amusement. You regarded him with an interested gaze.

"I never thought you’d have read Woolf.“

He rolled his head back lazily. “Ah, you’re the first and last person to know.”

“I’m honored.” You smiled at him as he scanned your shelf again.

“Charlotte Bronte.” He jerked his head at you with a raised eyebrow.

“She’s my favorite. I am crazy about Jane Eyre.”

He pursed his lips comically, pressing his index fingers together as if he were meditating.

“She wasn’t beautiful, Rochester was not handsome, they had a 20-year age gap,” he counted out on his fingers, mischief on his face.

“That’s the beauty, isn’t it? Heroes and heroines are usually described as beautiful and handsome respectively, but this time the book focused on love, just between two normal people.” You paused and looked ahead, stars in your eyes. “Helen was my favorite character; she was wise beyond her age. I feel so strongly drawn to such peaceful tranquility.“

He closed his eyes and decided that you were the smartest woman he had ever come across, second only to his mother. As both of you discussed more about literary characters, he found himself wishing that the storm would never abate. He wanted more of your presence, he wanted to hear your voice talk about things he had secretly loved all his life.

The time came for him to leave, and he grumblingly got up to bid good-bye.

” I’ll ask one of the drivers to fetch you your car in the morning,“ he said, slipping into his coat. “And allow me to say that this was the best night of my life.”

Blood rose to your cheeks, making you feel feverish. “That makes two of us,” you said, heart brimming with happiness on seeing him smile.

Long after he had left, you found yourself staring at the doorway. With a sigh, you closed the door, knowing that you loved every moment he had spent with you, but there was no doubt you would have loved it, even more, had things gone a little bit differently.

*****

Ever since that fateful night, Yoongi found himself making pleasant small talk with you whenever you visited Mrs. Min. And each time, he found himself wondering if he was more than just interested in you. He could feel the way his pulse quickened on seeing you, the way all the hair on his arms stood up when you brushed him accidentally. He started noticing your little habits. He loved the small twist of hair that fluttered while you walked, the little tear-shaped earrings you wore, the small jingle of your metal bracelet when it hit the table as you worked. He was amused at the way you wrote the number 5, starting at the bottom and ending at the top. The lone dimple on your left cheek that flashed only when you grinned in genuine pleasure always left his knees weak.

Yoongi had no experience with women, and he found it maddening that he didn’t know how to properly flirt. So, he turned to his chess-mate for help. The guy was quite helpful, but Yoongi was doubtful if his suggestions were a bit too cheesy. He began to panic, unsure if you preferred the corny lines his friend fed him, or the poetic ones aplenty in the old literary gold you were clearly fond of.

So, it was a very confused Yoongi that was sitting with you a few days later on the stone bench in his mother’s lawn. His mother had gone out on an urgent errand. You had already parked your car on the porch when the news of her being away reached you. It turned out you were at a free end that evening, which Yoongi decided to benefit from. The stone bench felt warm from all the sun’s rays that had fallen on it throughout the day. You had been talking about your work day, and he had been listening happily.

Suddenly, without even knowing it happened, he dipped his head down, capturing your soft lips in a hesitant kiss. It was pleasant for a moment until he realized he was supposed to deepen it. He started panicking. He knew tongues would be involved, but how on Earth was he going to achieve that feat? Sweat started running down his neck, and his breathing became labored. You noticed his discomfort and leaned back, opening your mouth to form “What…” He saw your mouth open and took the chance to dive in again, relaxing thankfully when there was no opposition from your side. When both of you finally broke the kiss, he was so embarrassed that he couldn’t bring himself to look at your eyes.

He was certain you had hated it. He knew he had been sloppy, and he vowed to blame his kissing abilities if you never wanted to see him again. While he was internally kicking himself, you put your little hand in his large ones, with a mild “Are you alright, Yoongi?” When he didn’t answer, you added wickedly, “That was a hell of a kiss.”

His head shot up, indignant at first, the annoyance quickly morphing into merriment as he took in your coy wink.

“Trust me they’ll get better.”

When there was no reply, his confidence plummeted again. He started to stammer “I didn’t imply-” before he was silenced with another searing kiss.

*****

It was the night of your sixth date when both of you were cuddled up in one blanket, feet dangling from the roof of his balcony. Yoongi was content with you at his side, your sweet-smelling hair cascading down your shoulders and brushing against him. He wanted to say something and seal the moment. But what should he say? Taking your index finger in his hands, he started tracing the delicate bones as he worked up his nerves.

Closing his eyes, he blurted out, “Design our home.”

You looked at him, startled. “Do you want me to be your designer?”

He shook his head, pressing the bridge of his nose with his thumb. “No. I am asking you to own my home and make it beautiful by being in it.”

He was screaming at himself for not phrasing the words better. He made a mental note to go kick his chess mate’s balls off for suggesting the damned line. There was a heavy silence, so heavy that it suffocated him. He slowly opened his eyes. Just as he decided he had lost you forever, a tinkling giggle reached his ears, leaving him dumbstruck. The giggle amplified into more giggles, finally breaking out into peals of joyful laughter. As the laughter subsided, you wiped your streaming eyes and replied: “Only if you promise to remain this cute.”

*****

The next day, Yoongi took you to his parents and announced the engagement. He had proposed again properly, with a beautiful ring, but you had told him you really preferred the first version of his proposal. Mrs. Min took the news very well, she smiled as she hugged you and pecked you on the cheek. “I knew it was just a matter of time before he fell for you,” she whispered with a twinkle in her eyes.

After four glorious months of being engaged, you had a beautiful white wedding that Mrs.Min organized with aplomb. You had no parents, so your best friend Hoseok happily agreed to give you away. Your friends did everything they could to soothe the pain of your parents not being there to see your happiness. There were festoons engraved with Yoongi’s and your initials, adorning every nook and corner, declaring your love to the world.

As you walked down the aisle with a proud Hoseok beaming all over his face, Yoongi felt like he could choke with happiness. You grinned at him as you reached his side, tilting your head to allow Hoseok to peck your cheeks. Hoseok then shook hands with Yoongi, winking at him and slapping his back. And then the magic moment arrived.

All the words that the minister said felt like cotton candy. It all just blew away, and only the sweetest words remained- “I do.” You had tears in your eyes as you accepted Yoongi as your lawfully wedded husband. Yoongi’s mother passed down her own mother’s wedding ring, a beautiful solitaire diamond ring that glittered and shone. Yoongi smiled through tears, whispering “In case you ever foolishly forget: I am never not thinking of you,” as he slipped it on your finger, claiming you as his own. The wedding kiss had tears from Yoongi’s cheeks and yours falling onto the lips, strangely tasting sweeter than the choicest nectar.

As he walked out of the church, he was filled with a deep pride. You loved him. You were his. You were Mrs.Min.

*****

The Min family welcomed you as one of their own with open arms. As a wedding gift, Yoongi’s parents gifted you a charming house, a skeleton of a house really. It was yours to design and furnish, yours to apply all your designing skills and turn it into your home. Your days passed happily, enjoying the lavish affection your husband showered on you, and doing what you loved when he went away for the day.

Your clientele grew, as you were now part of the elite club. There were commissions from Mrs. Min’s friends to help alter and redecorate their offices and homes. Yoongi worked all day, managing his father’s businesses and clients. But when he came home, all his stress evaporated away, leaving only fierce embers of love. He was doting, sweet, animalistic, feral, subtle, blunt, all thrown into one perfect balance, leaving you gasping and deliciously wanting for more.

Just as life seemed that it was all sunshine and happiness, tragedy struck. Your father-in-law was involved in a bad car accident, which left him severely injured. The days were filled with frantic phone calls from investors, grim faces of doctors, alcohol-sprayed hospital rooms, and the slowly fraying nerves of your husband. Your mother-in-law never lost her composure, she went about her duties robotically. She tended to her husband, watching as his body struggled to recuperate. She witnessed his body slowly shutting down one part at a time. She read to him, prayed at his side, slept at the bedside, never leaving him. But on the day she saw him breathing his last, your mother-in-law broke.

Min Sung-Hee had been a proud woman, who had defied societal conventions and broken ties to marry the man she loved. His demise was a severe blow to her, she had never thought her husband was even capable of dying. She had clung on to the gossamer hope that he would recover, and when he failed to do so, the thread snapped. She was left unhinged.

You brought her to live with you, but nothing was helping her steer towards sanity. Each night, you were kept awake with the heart-breaking howls and sobs that reverberated through the walls. Her eyes lost their luster, tired wrinkles covered her face the way moss silently creeps on rocks and obscures them. On a particularly desolate night, you found her holding a knife, face impassive. When you tried to call her name, she paid no heed. Suddenly, with a blood-curling yowl, she hurled herself at the mirror, shattering it and sending shards flying all over the place. You screamed for Yoongi as she kept banging her head on the broken mirror. Your screams disturbed her and she flew at you, knife aimed straight at your throat.

There was a rush of footsteps behind you, and a strong hand pushed you to the side. Yoongi wrestled his fragile mother as softly as he could, prying the knife away from her and locking her in a tight hold. You were trembling when you ran down to fetch a glass of water, the eyes that had looked at you had been devoid of any recognition.

It was very painful but Yoongi knew he had no choice but to send his mother to an institution. He didn’t want you to be afraid in your own home. He was scared for you, and for his mother’s safety too. He wanted her to get the best care, and an institution seemed to be the best way to go. He reasoned with you, telling you it had to be done. It was not an easy decision, but when Yoongi saw his mother’s cold manic eyes looking back at him on the way to the institution, he knew he was doing the right thing to protect his family.

*****

Yoongi inherited his father’s businesses and everything his parents owned. Financially, you were richer, but emotionally you felt poorer. You had grown to consider Yoongi’s parents your own, and their absence scarred you deeply. The playful Yoongi was gone, replaced by a serious man who had to suddenly take charge of his father’s legacy and shoulder responsibilities that were thrust upon him.

Gone were the days when he would rush home from work to lift you as if you were his precious child. As the days passed, he became more and more trapped at his office. You longed for those magical days when there were four of you at the table, when Yoongi’s eyes had been filled with mischief and fun. It was hard to focus on your designs, but you trudged through them zealously. Yoongi still loved you, and you just had to wait for him to get a hold of his business responsibilities.

Indeed, there was a brief period when Yoongi returned early, brought you flowers, and even took you out on dinner dates. That was after he had hired Wo Bin, his new manager. For months, Yoongi was all praise for his manager. He left Wo Bin in-charge whenever he had other pressing matters to attend to. He grew to trust the man, even letting him handle a few acquisitions all by himself. He once brought Wo Bin home, and you were amused at the shy, bespectacled man who your husband had often spoken so highly of.

But it was just a matter of months before the relaxed Yoongi disappeared again, and an even more stressed husband returned to you each night. You tried asking him gently, but he remained silent, not even trying to explain. You assumed it was a deal gone bad, which your husband would surely recover from. But weeks rolled by, and Yoongi’s moodiness showed no signs of abating. If anything, he had only grown even more remote, stubbornly refusing to answer your questions, and skipping meals several days a week. You prayed and begged, but he simply shut his mouth tight, refusing to respond. That was when panic set in, gnawing at your chest. Was he guilty of something? Had he cheated on you?

Many such tumultuous thoughts had been flittering in your mind as you had grilled pork ribs on that fateful day, trying to cheer your husband up. That had been the day your world turned upside down: Taehyung had stepped into your house, tearing your husband away from you, giving you just three days to pay him fifty million dollars.

*****

“What?!”

Your scream echoed through the small glass-paneled office. Seated across you, nervously twiddling his thumbs, was Bong Ju, Yoongi’s legal advisor.

“Yes, Mrs.Min. The Min corporation has indeed filed for bankruptcy.”

You felt as if all your blood had evaporated and clouded around your face in a red haze. This was the worst thing to ever happen. Your husband was not around, the company was dying, your only relative was in an institution, and you had to cough up 50 million dollars within 68 hours. Three hours had already been wasted in Bong Ju’s explanation of the debts, there was no more time to lose.

“How the heck did the company fall so deep in debt? Last quarter’s reports were so good!”

Bong Ju shook his head vigorously. “Yes, there is nothing wrong with our company.” He paused and scratched his head. “ In fact, we would have still been an incredibly profitable company, if it weren’t for Wo Bin.”

“Wo Bin? The executive manager? What did he do?” Your knuckles were white from gripping the handles of the chair too hard.

“He struck deals with ridiculously high prices, there were so many useless acquisitions for millions of dollars. He also embezzled millions of dollars in company funds. He absconded with all the money.”

“You couldn’t trace that bastard?”

“No, Mrs.Min. He well and truly vanished. All the investors found out and they threatened to sue the company. Mr. Min had no option but to settle and avoid a legal battle. He had to file for bankruptcy, that was the only way he could pay them off.”

“And how did Taehyung come into all this?”

“He loaned Mr. Min most of the money to reach a settlement with the investors. Kim Taehyung charges exorbitant interests, but Mr. Min went ahead and borrowed huge amounts of money. He never expected to be dragged this deep into the mire.”

You buried your head in your hands. There was a serious urge to tear at your hair, which you controlled with the last of your patience. How on Earth were you expected to save the company? There was no way in Hell you could raise all the money and still salvage the company.

The man stayed mute for a few minutes, scared of setting you off again. He saw you chewing on your lip, horror written all over your face. Timidly, he cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses.

“You could… ”

“I could what?”

“Er… Mrs.Min, you could uh… try mortgaging the Min estate?”

He wiped the sweat on his forehead as he watched your face in apprehension. He was almost ready to jump out of the window than sit in that stifling atmosphere with the wife of his employer shooting daggers at him.

“Do you think that will cover it? It’s 50 MILLION dollars!” you yelled.

“Maybe, you have other assets? Like your home? I am sure you could mortgage your home too.”

You slid down a bit on your chair, massaging your temples. Your home? This man was asking you to mortgage your home? But it was your dream home! You had designed every tile on that building with love. You fanned your hot cheeks. This was about Yoongi, not the house. You could always design a new house. Swallowing the bitter taste in your mouth, you nodded. You remembered something else too.

“I have two million dollars in my savings deposit.”

You bit your lips and controlled the tears that were threatening to fall. You had put aside some of the money you earned in a deposit. It was meant to be used when you had babies. Every month, you had giggled happily while transferring money to the deposit. It had been your secret; you had never dreamt that you would be required to withdraw all of it for a reason other than your babies. It was all you had saved, just for your future children. You sniffed, deciding it had to be done to save Yoongi.

“ Withdraw the money, and start the work to mortgage our home and the Min estate.”

The man obligingly stood up, nodding.

“I will start on the course of action, Mrs.Min.”

You watched as he bowed to you, turning to leave. A thought struck you out of the blue.

“Just a minute, Bong Ju.” The tone made him turn abruptly. “Why did you not suggest mortgaging the property before, to my husband?“

There was a heavy silence. He took out his handkerchief, wiping his bald head as he licked his lips.

"Well, you see Mrs.Min,” the man advanced to you in slow steps, “Mr. Min didn’t want you to know about the financial crisis. He had hoped to resolve it before it snowballed into a full-blown nightmare.” He saw the uncertainty on your face. “You… uh, you would have come to know if he ever mortgaged the estate or the house, your signature would have been necessary.”

You deflated, wishing your husband had just believed in you and told you about his monetary struggles. Taehyung’s words repeated in your head. Had Yoongi really not trusted you enough? You shook your head. No, that couldn’t be the reason. You couldn’t lose your head over this; time was running out.

“Well, there’s one more thing, Bong Ju.” You looked at your hand, a deep sorrow weighing your heart down. With tears blurring your eyes, you slid your wedding ring off. The diamond glinted at you, looking even more radiant through your tears. You extended the ring to the man.

“Mortgage this too, it is a family treasure.”

The man looked uncomfortable. He eyed the ring on his palm warily. “Are you sure, Mrs. Min? I think-”

“Just go.”

He left without a word, leaving you alone, swirling in the emotions that were choking your lungs.

*****

You were pacing around your study, wondering what was happening to Yoongi. There had been a phone call exactly at midnight. A low raspy voice had said, “You have two days,” before cutting off abruptly. The call had left you wide-eyed and worried.

Now, as you paced impatiently, you wished you could turn to someone for help. Your mother-in-law was sure to have stowed away some money in security deposits. But how could you ask her? She barely recognized you, she would surely have no recollection of her deposits, whatsoever. On an impulse, you dialed the number of the institution in which she was housed.

You listened to the dial-back tone, nervously biting your nails. God, you smelt like a tramp. You hadn’t showered, hadn’t eaten a morsel, or even had a sip of water. The line crackled and a high-pitched voice answered.

“Klammer Institute.”

You sucked in a deep breath. “Hi, I am Min Sung-Hee’s family. How is she?”

“Oh, Good morning Mrs.Min. I am afraid she has been catatonic; Dr. Stevens upped her dosage last night to see if she responds.”

“Oh.” Your heart fell. But this was to be expected. “Is it possible for me to speak to her?”

“Let me see if she will talk, hold on.”

You waited; the answer already clear as day. It was the most foolish thing ever to expect any good outcome from this. Were you losing your mind too? It wasn’t like you to cling on to fruitless threads like this. You heard the woman speak to your mother-in-law, announcing your arrival. There was a rustle, and then silence.

“Hello?” you ventured after a few seconds of the deafening silence.

“Hm?” the voice sounded painfully feeble.

“Hey, Ma. I am Y/N. How are you?” You held your breath.

“Y/N? I don’t know any Y/N.”

“I am your daughter-in-law,” you began to explain patiently before she cut you off.

“Where is Min? Give the phone to him.”

She was asking for her husband, the poor darling. You didn’t have the heart to tell her that he had died. You were an idiot. What had you expected? A miracle?

“He… He isn’t around right now, Ma.”

“Tell him I am so lonely. Why did he leave me here? I feel so…” There was a pause. “Who are you again?”

“Never you mind, Ma. Please rest. Let me speak to the orderly.”

After inquiring more about your mother-in-law’s health, you cut the call with a sigh. There was no possible way you could ask your only relative for help. You felt even worse than when you had placed the call.

*****

There were only 12 hours left for the deadline to end. You had not showered in three days. There were tired dark circles around your eyes. You hadn’t slept in more than 30 hours, and it was making your eyes sting to look at any light. The same white nightshirt you had been wearing when Yoongi was dragged out by goons clung to your famished body. You had moved out of your house and had taken up a room in a mediocre hotel. Luxury hotels charged so much it made your ears burn.

There was an urgent knock on the door, and you sprinted to open it. Bong Ju was standing outside, a big black suitcase weighing his arm down. You practically ripped his arm off, pulling him into the room and banging the door shut.

“Well?”

You could hear your pulse throbbing in your ears. He nodded swiftly, rushing to the bed and heaving the suitcase on it. He threw it open, wiping his eyebrows in the crook of his elbow. There were stacks of crisp banknotes, arranged neatly and secured with elastic.

“There’s 50 million dollars in here, Mrs.Min.”

You looked at him with a faint sense of foreboding. “Did everything… did it all just fetch- only 50 million dollars?”

You had mortgaged your entire life. And it had all amounted to just covering your ass?

“I naturally had to avoid much negotiation, you see. Time is of the essence here and we couldn’t possibly waste it in bargaining.”

You nodded. Everything felt like water slipping through your fingers.

“And the ring?” you managed to whisper.

“It fetched 75 thousand dollars, Mrs. Min. And solely because it was an heirloom.” He lowered his voice and added, “The appraiser was an old friend of mine.”

You huffed in impatience. Who cared if he had pulled strings to get you the money? It was his job. Also, he was partly responsible for the mess your company was in. What kind of legal advisor couldn’t advise the CEO not to trust a stranger too much? You narrowed your eyes at him. It sickened you to see his greasy smile. Did he expect you to appreciate him or something? Dick.

“There’s only 11 hours and thirty minutes left.” You leaped to the bed and clamped the suitcase shut. Lugging it behind, you bolted through the door. You heard the man mutter something behind you. No time to listen. If you had turned and lent an ear, you would have heard him hiss at you:

“Mrs.Min, you are in your pajamas!”

*****

You hailed a cab, not caring in the least about the stares from all around you. A cab screeched to a halt in front of you.

“Where to, miss?” He took in your disheveled appearance. “What the hell, lady? Problems with the family?”

You jumped in and slammed the door shut. Your knuckles were aching from your hold on the suitcase. It contained your whole life.

“I need to go to the South Boulevard.”

He turned from his seat, eyeing you warily.

“That’s not a very safe neighborhood,” he shrugged, “not a place for a young woman like yourself.”

“That’s alright. I need to go there.”

“Where exactly, if I may ask?”

“Uh, Kim Taehyung’s mansion. Do you know it?”

“Oh, him.” There was a long pause. “I know that place.”

There was no more conversation after that, and you rode in silence. You chewed your nails, wondering if you should have actually counted the money for yourself. What if that sleazy Bong Ju had tried to steal some for himself? Wiping your eyebrows, you looked out the windows. Now you had no way of knowing if you really had 50 million dollars in your suitcase. It would not be safe to count the money inside the cab. You looked at the driver’s face in the rearview mirror. Suddenly you were filled with distrust that spanned to every living thing around you.

The cab ground to a halt in front of a sprawling mansion. You stumbled around with trembling fingers for change to cover the fare. As he reached his palm out to take it, the man suddenly stilled. He opened the door and stepped out, much to your alarm. He removed his coat and extended it to you.

“Take this.” He raised an eyebrow in the general direction of the mansion. “Can’t go in there in just your pajamas, lady.”

The suspicion rolled off your body and evaporated into thin air. You wrapped yourself in his coat and stammered your thanks. You stood watching the cab pull away, and shook yourself as it disappeared out of sight. 'Okay, Y/N. Time to go into the monster’s den.’

Dragging the suitcase, you charged through the gates, not paying attention to all the armed men walking around. They paused and stared, but didn’t stop you. You wouldn’t lie, all your nerves were tightly wound, almost to snapping point. You walked with your calf muscles burning, storming through the lawns and making a beeline to the enormous oak door. On reaching the door, a man with a rifle thrust his weapon at you, blocking your way.

“Where do you think you’re going, sweetmeat?”

Disgust rolled up your throat and you gritted your teeth. The man’s sweaty odor was enough to make you want to puke.

“Let me through. I need to go in to pay up my debt.”

He ran his eyes all over you, making you squirm in your nightclothes. With a sickening smirk, he lifted his rifle and allowed you to pass, calling behind you, “Boss is on the second floor. Also, nice ass.”

*****

Puffing and heaving, you reached the second floor. There were a lot of guards outside the first door, and you decided that was where Taehyung probably was. Not paying heed to the guards, you pushed the door open. Sure enough, there was the devil, his legs propped on his table, his eyes scanning a file. A gun was strewn on the table carelessly.

Taehyung looked up and saw you standing framed by the doorway. He couldn’t believe you were there, wearing the exact nightshirt that had haunted him in his dreams. He could see the damp spot on your chest, where your sweat had moistened the cloth and turned it deliciously translucent. Your hair was damp with sweat, all those little wisps of hair had stuck to your forehead like a wreath. The way your chest heaved with each breath sent a sharp ache down his groin. He looked at the suitcase in your hand, and his lips stretched in a sly smile.

“Brought my money back, huh, sugar?”

He manspread his legs on the desk, his crotch as clear as day. He was enjoying the way your eyes grew wide. The bob of your throat as you swallowed nervously sent his mind spinning with images of making you gag around him. He picked his gun and spun it as he regarded you with an arrogant smirk.

You glared at him and threw the suitcase on the table, opening it wide to show him the stacks of money.

“Take this and let Yoongi go.”

He threw his head back with a sigh. He inhaled slowly, closing his eyes. Crossing his heels on the table, he lazily toyed with his gun.

“Oh, baby doll, I wish I could.”

You tensed, electric jolts going haywire in your brain.

“What? What the fuck do you mean?”

“I don’t think I can let him go, baby girl.”

“Fucking take the money and give me my husband, KIM TAEHYUNG!”

He swung his legs off the table, watching you as he swiveled sideways on his chair. Two guards rushed in on hearing your screams. Taehyung blew on the muzzle of his gun with disinterest.

“And what if I won’t?”

You threw your hands up in despair.

“What the fuck more do you want?”

He got up and ambled around the mahogany desk. He precariously sat on the table with one leg on the floor, supporting his weight. He still had the gun in his hand, rubbing it in slow strokes on the side of his pants.

“Ah,” he said, looking beyond you at the guards in the doorway. “There’s no problem here, Wo Bin-ah. You can wait outside.”

In a flash, you spun on your heel to look at Wo Bin, standing there with a rifle. He wasn’t wearing glasses, and he towered over you, his chest puffed up.

“What? Wo Bin? You? You! You!” You lunged at him, arms outstretched in rage. He jabbed your chin with the butt of his rifle, sending shooting pain throughout your skull. Head swimming, you saw his blurred outline walk out of the room.

As you clutched your jaw, there was a deep chuckle behind you.

“Confused, honey?”

You turned and glared at Taehyung.

“What is that.. what is that scum doing here?”

“He works for me.”

“What?!”

“Hmm.” He hummed softly, rubbing his temple with the gun. He took a step towards you. “He’s been with me for years.”

“How- what was he- Where is Yoongi?” There was a sudden panic coursing through your veins. You needed to fetch Yoongi and get out of here.

“You’ll get him if you give me what I want.” He was now talking slow steps towards you.

“I already brought you the money, dickwad assbutt.”

He chuckled again, shaking his head.

“I want you.”

You froze, jaw hanging open.

He drawled lazily. “Min Yoongi is a penniless loser. He has nothing left in the world.” He came nearer. “But you just made me 50 million dollars richer. I have everything. I am so much better than him, sugar”

His eyes blazed at you. “Be mine.”

He reached out and tugged at your coat, brushing his fingers against the fabric. When you didn’t move, he circled you and stood behind you. Ghosting his arm around your waist, he spooned you from behind. He bent slightly to take a whiff of your hair. Mmm. Berries. The movement thrust his entire body snug against you.

His hands were reaching your chest, almost groping you. Suddenly, you were aware of a hard bulge pressing against you.

“NO,” you shouted shrilly at the top of your lungs, wriggling vigorously to get out of his grip. His arm tightened around your midsection and you scratched and clawed at his flesh until he hissed and released you. You pushed off his chest, screaming. His fingers clawed at the air and found your coat, holding you back as you tried to run. He held on to your coat in a vice-like grip, not allowing you to advance. With a wild shrug, you got out of the coat, catapulting to the door in the momentum. Without looking back, you ran out as if your head were on fire.

Taehyung spat out on seeing the angry red nail marks on his arms. He shouted to his men, commanding them to run after you. He would not let you get away. He ran out like a madman, slamming himself against the balcony when he saw your figure darting across the lawns. The men were chasing you, but you were running like the wind. He gritted his teeth, seeing you jump across the hedges like a hare.

He roared to a guy, shouting at him to get his car. He was going to get you, no matter what.

*****

You ran faster than you had ever run in your life. The adrenaline pushed your limits, sending you blazing through the boulevard. You cut across lanes, doing your best to not go down the obvious route. It had been almost half an hour on the run before your lungs gave out. You squinted your eyes, making out the towers of a suspension bridge that stretched over the sea, and you knew where to go.

You were thoroughly spent when you wheezed and stumbled to the bridge. The cars were whirring past, oblivious to the skimpily clad figure trudging along the bridge. It was illegal to walk on the bridge’s deck, you knew, but you didn’t care. It would be lucky for you to get into prison, at least you would be safe there. Reaching the hard left of the bridge, you gripped the railing and peered down.

The sea was lapping at the visible parts of the bridge’s foundations. The water looked frightening, stretching out in such a vast expanse that made you feel insignificant. You looked around. Cars were still moving back and forth, no one seemed to have seen you loitering on the bridge. There was no time to lose.

Throwing your leg over the railing, you hoisted yourself on the suspender cables that had the lowest elevation. You kicked your feet off the railing, resolving to not look down at the deep, deep sea splashing around down beneath. A sick panic climbed up from the pit of your stomach as you dangled from the railing, with nothing to support you but your hands. It was so hard to hold on to the metal, the afternoon sun had heated it to scalding point. Pain shot up your shoulder joints, causing you to wince in agony. The three-day starvation was quickly catching up, and you felt like you were going to pass out.

There was immediate death beckoning to you from below. The drop itself would kill you. A vague newspaper fragment floated to your mind’s eye. There had been a passage once on the newspaper about this bridge, and you knew this one was 75 feet high. Sweat rolled down your forehead, forming fat beads on your eyelashes. No, you could not let go, you would plummet to your death. The drops of sweat flowed into your eyes, stinging them and causing you to curse out loud. You had to get a move on before your arms gave out.

A few feet away, there was a small platform jutting out from under the deck of the bridge. Blinking away the salty drops blurring your vision, you swung your arm out to catch the next rail. Oh God, was it difficult. Fuck those action heroes who did it above safety nets and made it look easy as pie. You were sure your arms would tear off from all the strain. Muttering a fluent string of curse words, you heaved your body from rail to rail, never looking down.

It felt like ages before you reached the damned platform. It was made of metal, and you squealed in pain as it scorched your bottom. The thin pajamas were not helping either. Biting down on your tongue, you rolled on your bottom, wishing the heat dissipated quickly. The platform was very small, it was probably never intended to provide sanctuary for a human. The strip of metal was long, and you decided to align yourself along the length of it. There was no support on the sides, you could easily roll over and fall into the crashing waves.

You lay still, holding on to the edge of the platform for dear life. The sun was beating down on your face mercilessly. You were sure you’d be sunburnt beyond recognition if you stayed here long enough. A little farther, there were a couple of ships moving slowly against the horizon. You were watching them when you heard cars whiz past the deck, causing the platform to vibrate hard. Closing your eyes, you wondered if any of those cars carried Taehyung or his gang of goons.

*****

Taehyung couldn’t believe he had let you slip that easily. He had moved every piece in the game so carefully. How could he have lost you after so much effort? His men were combing the streets for you, dozens of his cars were patrolling the land. No one had gotten any whiff of you so far. But they would. He knew it was just a matter of hours before you would be back in his arms, nightshirt and all.

As he rode in stony anger, seated in the back of his car, he remembered the first time he had seen you.

Taehyung’s family was not old money, they had no old family ties with the rest of the elite. His father had been a part of the mafia, and the family thrived prosperously. But it still wasn’t enough to grant Taehyung the privileges Yoongi’s family enjoyed. He was invited to a lot of social gatherings, yes, but somehow he was always on a lower rung on the social ladder.

There were many events that Taehyung was excluded from. He and Yoongi never mingled. The tension in the room whenever he was in an elite gathering always made Taehyung queasy. He felt like everyone looked down on him, even if he had as much money as the rest of them. Their stares and whispers served to infuriate him, making him feel deeply resentful towards affluent families like the Min clan.

It was one such night when Taehyung had stormed out of a party hosted by one of Mrs.Min friends. He had felt passively insulted, and he had gone in an attempt to prevent screaming his head off. It had begun to drizzle, and just as he decided to turn back, he saw you.

You were walking towards the crosswalk, a book in hand. You were probably returning from a library. There was a serene vibe about you, and it drew him in completely. He watched as you waited for the light to turn green, turning your head up to feel the rain patter against your forehead. The little curve of your lips as the drops streamed down your face made his heart beat faster. Suddenly you seemed to remember about the book, and hugged it to yourself, covering it with your jacket. He stood rooted to the spot, unmindful of the rain that had begun to wet his clothes. He followed you till you reached your home, and smiled to himself after you closed the door behind you. He was going to get to know you.

It was incredibly easy to follow you around, thanks to your cute obliviousness. He soon found out all your favorite books, restaurants, coffeehouses and pubs. He never got tired of tagging behind you. It was a pleasant feeling to follow you when you flitted like a butterfly before him. Until you drove into the Min house one evening.

Taehyung parked a few blocks outside the gates, watching you each day as you drove in and out that wretched house. He was mad at you for consorting with that family. Every time, he calmed his rage by telling himself that you were just there on business. He would tell you to cut off all business ties with that snobbish family after he started dating you.

It was on a particularly windy night that he waited outside the gates, muttering impatiently under his breath. A storm was brewing, and he chided you in his mind for staying in too long. What would you do if it rained hard? The roads would be slippery, not to mention the low visibility that would threaten your safety. He was too caught up in his worry that he almost missed the sleek black car that sailed out of the gates. Just as he was about to dismiss it thinking it wasn’t your car anyway, he caught a glimpse of the riders. You. In Min Yoongi’s car.

Gripping the steering wheel tight enough to make his fingers numb, he turned on the ignition and tailed Yoongi’s car stealthily. He felt like his nerves could pop from all the rage. That was his woman in that bastard Yoongi’s car! A part of him wanted to see reason. It was raining hard, and you needed to get home. Maybe the Yoongi fellow would drop you at your house and get lost soon.

But all the amiable feelings drained out of his system when he saw Yoongi getting out and following you into the house. Hot angry tears pricked his eyes when you closed the door and locked it behind you. He ground his teeth, looking at his watch every five minutes, hoping to see Yoongi get out. Tough luck, there was no sign of Yoongi leaving in a hurry. He was shaking with anger for a good two hours before the door opened again. That was when he knew he had to destroy Min Yoongi.

Just like he had feared, you fell for that rich snob. He watched you go on dinners with Yoongi, and he knew time was running out. It was a rude shock to him when he found out you were engaged to Yoongi. So soon? God, that slimy wretch Min was moving so fast to secure you. Taehyung had no choice but to witness you grow closer and closer to Yoongi. And before he knew it, you were married. It was the first time in years he drunk himself to oblivion and passed out on the floor of his bar.

*****

Taehyung had been miserable for months after your wedding. He had been invited to the wedding of course, and he had watched another man put a ring on you and claim you as his own. There was a deep void in his heart, so deep that he couldn’t spend one waking moment without thinking of you. He wanted you, he was not going to let the wedding deter him. You had flown out of his reach, but he resolved to get you back. He was going to ruin Min Yoongi. The game had just started.

It was a stroke of luck for Taehyung when Yoongi’s father died and left his son to take care of all the businesses. Taehyung was a smart man, and he pounced on the opportunity to dig Yoongi’s trench. He plotted carefully, weighing his options. Finally, he decided to infiltrate the enemy lines and place a Trojan horse in the Min camp. That was how Wo Bin got to work in the enemy’s company.

Taehyung was proud of Wo Bin. The man was excellent at his job. He meticulously followed Taehyung’s instructions and went on to win Yoongi’s confidence. When Wo Bin completed two successful acquisitions for the Min Corporation, Taehyung knew that the time was ripe.

Slowly and steadily, Wo Bin drained the coffers, striking extravagant deals and sabotaging the company from the inside out. He convinced Yoongi that the deals were futuristic, and no harm was going to befall the company due to them. He could sense that Yoongi was uneasy, but he came up with ridiculously complex theories and shut him up for good. One weekend, when Yoongi was away at Melbourne for a deal, Wo Bin moved in for the kill.

Taehyung made sure that he was the first person who called to console Yoongi when he returned from Melbourne and found himself neck-deep in debt. Taehyung started moving with the utmost caution to secure his traps. He struck up a cordial relationship with Yoongi, calling on him and arranging friendly meetings to 'cheer him up’. That was how Yoongi wound up in a bar with Taehyung, drinking away his sorrows and slurring his words as he told Taehyung of how badly he had been cheated by his manager.

It was not until he made Yoongi sufficiently drunk that Taehyung turned on his smooth charm. He buttered up to the man, gushing on how he wished to help. He was fishing for a reaction and Yoongi promptly gave him one.

“Really? You- you will lend me money to settle off my investors?”

Taehyung smiled smoothly, turning his glass in his hand. God, the man was so gullible.

“Sure. If that’s what you want.”

“I can’t believe this. 5 million dollars? Are you sure?”

“Hey, it’s just a few millions. The important thing is that I’m getting to help you out.” He struggled to keep the victorious smirk off his face as Yoongi fell for it hard. This was going perfectly according to plan.

So Yoongi borrowed the first 5 million from Taehyung. But to his surprise, it was becoming increasingly difficult to settle all his investors. The prices kept climbing up, and within no time he found himself borrowing 5 million more. And then the 5 million turned into 10 million and he felt like it was just in a blink of an eye that his total loan amounted to 50 million.

Taehyung had finally trapped Yoongi for good. As all the memories flashed in his mind, Taehyung grinned to himself. He had succeeded in reducing his enemy to dust. And he would soon have his reward: You.

*****

You lay terribly cramped on the platform, unable to move in fear of falling down. There were sure to be sunburn on your face. The fingers that had held on to the sides of the platform were now numb and senseless. You watched the sky turn orange, pink and purple, the colors amplified by the sea. Finally, the sky wore a deep blue cloak and stars came out twinkling. A chill breeze picked up salt from the sea and blew around you, smelling like fish and seaweed. The coldness wrapped around you like a blanket, engulfing you in the overwhelming smell of the sea. You could almost taste the salt in the air. There was a ship below which looked spectacular, decked in lights. The lights made you feel warm, and you kept wondering about all the lucky people who would be in that bright, cheerful ship.

You didn’t know when you had fallen asleep. But dawn was beginning to break according to the hues of the sky. You woke with a jolt when you dreamt of falling, and it was in sheer horror that you watched your slipper drop down the platform. You peeked over the edge and saw your slipper hurtling down. It became a speck as it touched the water, and a chill ran up your back when you saw the faint ripples that swallowed it and became calm again. You had to get out of there.

Where could you go? You had no home. Taehyung probably had men at the hotel you had stayed at previously. Yoongi still was in danger. You smelt like rotten fish. God, you had to wash up. The salt in the air had made your skin annoyingly sticky. The sun would soon be up, cars would start moving, and soon the platform would heat up again. Getting up and fighting the killer cramps in your legs, you held on to the suspender cables. Balancing your weight on the tips of your toes, you scanned the deck. There was very little traffic.

Making sure to grab the cables, you jumped up and caught hold of a rail. Good. Now all you had to do was pull yourself up. Easier said than done. After 30 minutes of cussing and panting, your feet were on the deck again.

This side of the city was clearly under construction. It was probably noon, but heavy rain clouds were gathering above you. As you jogged on, you could see trenches dug out and sealed off with construction tape, probably for road works. Some of them were pretty big and connected to successive trenches, almost like a muddy subway along the road. You were too absorbed in jogging to see a car tailing you. In a couple of minutes, two more cars joined it. The first drops of rain fell, and you decided to cut across the alleyways and wait out the rain.

Just as you turned and entered a lane, you ran smack into a car. The hood was hot, and you leaped back. The headlights blinked at you through the sheets of rain.

“Sorry. My bad.”

You attempted to walk around when you saw three cars blocking your path from the back. They slowly receded to a distance and blinked their lights and you turned again to see someone stepping out from the car before you. Him.

“Well, quite the chase, baby doll.”

He draped his arm over the door, watching you. The rain made your shirt transparent, causing it to stick to your body in the most delicious ways. The cold had made your nipples harden, and the nubs were poking against the shirt. His mind went into a frenzy as he took in the way the raindrops beaded on your face.

“Let’s go home now.” He advanced towards you, extending his arm.

“No.”

“Now now, baby girl, it is useless to keep resisting.”

“I will resist until I die.” Tears mixed with the rain, flowing down your face in torrents.

“We have all the time in the world for that.”

He pulled you against him, sniffing your hair loudly, making you cringe. With a harsh shove, he sent you flying into the car.

Your wet clothes were ruining his car, but to hell with that. He had found you. Reaching over a slender finger, he clicked the lock on your side of the door in place. The outline of your body was still visible through the sheer clothes, making his mouth water. God, was he going to have fun with you.

You had no way of escaping. The door was locked and the car was zooming past the trenches. Your eyes wandered to Taehyung’s side. And then you saw it. His side was unlocked. But how to get over there? Unless… ugh. But that was the only way to do it.

It was a surprise to Taehyung when you slid closer to him, face stony. He was even more surprised when you threw a hand over his lean, firm thigh. When you threw a leg over him and made a move as if to straddle him, his eyebrows shot up. Your eyes were closed, so he could not read the expression on your face. The wet clothes soaked through his pants and gave him gooseflesh. Eyes still closed, you slowly rutted against him, holding on to both his shoulders. Oh, Sweet God, how hot you looked, grinding against him, hair plastered against your forehead and water dripping from the ends of your locks onto his shirt. A sharp pang of want shot through the length of his dick and he moaned out loud. Before he knew it, you were gone.

As soon as he had closed his eyes with a moan, you had clicked his door open and jumped out, rolling on the muddy sloshy road.

When he found out and yelled to the driver to stop, he was too late. You were nowhere to be found. The beating rain made it harder to see. Muddy rivulets were running everywhere, dark brown and dirty. His body trembled in murderous rage on realizing that you had deceived him. Bitch. He pulled out a glinting object from his coat pocket. He gritted his teeth as he twirled your wedding ring in his fingers. The diamond sparkled and glinted at him as if laughing at his folly. He could almost shoot himself for being so foolish as to believe your little stunt. When Kim Taehyung flew out of his car, he was fit to murder.

*****

It was fortunate that there was no proper road where you had fallen. You had quickly rolled into a trench and stayed there. From your vantage point, you could see the trench extending on either way like a mini subway. You couldn’t stay there; the goons might check out the trenches too. So, with your head lowered, you crawled forward, palms splashing in the mud and splattering bright brown stains all over your clothes.

A good many yard later, the trenches grew deeper, meaning that you could now stand and still not be visible by anyone who wasn’t looking into the trenches. But by now, gravity had found its way and all the runoff from the rain was pouring into the dugout pits. As you walked further, you found with growing alarm that the water level was almost to your knees and still rising. The walking turned into wading, and the water never ceased flowing into the pits. A few blocks farther, the pits came to an abrupt end. There was no way to move forward. And when you turned back, there was no way to go back either.

The open tunnel was filling fast, and the muddy walls looked like they were going to collapse and fall in, burying you alive. The road was a few feet above your head, there was no way you could jump out of this muddy maze. The water was now up to your chest. So, this was it. This was how you were going to die. Drowned in a trench, muddied beyond recognition. But hey, better than being ravaged and killed by Taehyung.

Arms outstretched, you fumbled blindly around, even as your chin dipped in the water. Just a few more minutes and you’d drown. Helplessness made you wilder, and suddenly your fingers found purchase at a rock jutting out of the mud. Stepping on it, you heaved your weight on it, launching yourself a couple of inches upwards. Okay great, your chin was out of the water. But it soon would be in the water again. Shifting all your weight on one foot, you swung the other foot hard at the crude wall on your side. No harm in seeing if you could get out. It might fall in, but you would die either way.

On the third hit, your foot lodged well into the wall. Moment of truth. You shifted your weight to the foot on the wall and heaved up. When you opened your eyes again, you were still alive, the wall supporting your body and not crumbling as you had feared. One more swing. Another. Another. In a few minutes, you were lying on the mud outside the trenches, spitting out dirt and sputtering. There was a dump truck some feet away that looked deserted. Carefully scanning the path for any suspected goons, you hurried to the truck, crawling underneath, tucking yourself there and hoping to stay hidden till the rain stopped.

From under the truck, you could see a couple of cars whizzing past on the dirt road along the trenches. Suddenly, one of them stopped and three guys got out. They walked the length of the road and turned to leave when a guy abruptly turned and peeped into the flooded trench. The howling wind made it unable to clearly hear his voice, and you could only catch “… would have drowned if she had.” The men shrugged and walked back to the car, disappearing from view a couple minutes later.

There was only blank silence in your head as you lay under the truck. There were no thoughts, your mind was completely numb. Too much had happened in too little time, so your mind just blocked all the emotions out. Every part of your body screamed in agony. Damage was a sure thing if you threw yourself out of a speeding car. Throw in a muddy adventure with a near-death experience and you had one hell of a pain cocktail. The rain started to grow lighter, and soon you had to get going again. But where to? Damn the pounding headache that kicked in to add to your misery. Where could you go?

*****

Jung Hoseok had been stirring his coffee and looking out the window for a long time. He liked the rain, but only when he was not getting wet in it. The street looked deserted, everyone was probably huddled around the fire in their homes, sipping hot drinks. He turned to his wife Bo Na, who was reading a book.

“Leaves on the trees outside are all clean and green.”

She nodded, too engrossed in her book to comment. He looked out again. “Seems like they all had a shower and dressed up fresh.” She nodded again.

“I married an idiot.”

She almost nodded, caught herself and scowled, hitting him with the book. He laughed, pulling the book playfully.

“I wanted to check if you were paying attention, hon.” He was still laughing when he looked outside again, and the smile slowly faded.

“What is it, Hobi? What do you see?” His wife was now paying him attention.

“There’s a person all muddied up, walking down the street. Poor bugger. Homeless, probably.”

“What?” His wife stood up and craned her head to see better. “Oh yes, poor thing.”

Hoseok looked at the figure as it drew closer and suddenly stood up, toppling his coffee.

“Holy shit. That’s Y/N!”

He rushed to the door, yanking it open to reveal a figure completely caked with mud, with hair matted and dried up in brown clumps.

As soon as the door opened, you fell forward, sagging against him bodily, effectively passing out.

It was eighteen hours later that you opened your eyes. You were in bed, and a dull ache in your head made you wince. When you tried to turn, a jolting pain shot through your arm, startling you. And then all the memories came flooding back. You shot up in bed, looking down at yourself. Everything was clean, your skin, palms, clothes, feet, everything. The pajamas were not yours, they were baby blue, not the soiled mess you had been wearing before. There were Band-Aids on your arms, and you smelled fresh. Your hair felt soft and mud-free and you caught the familiar whiff of coconuts. Bo Na’s shampoo.

There was a pitcher of water on the bedside table. Just as you leaned over to reach it, a man came bounding inside, crushing you in a hug.

“Y/N! You scared me shitless! Thank God!”

“Hobi,” you managed to whisper, “How long was I out?”

“18 hours. What the hell were you doing, digging a tunnel to China?”

“Hobi - I …” you paused, lowering your head. “I’m hungry. Starving.”

“Oh yes, wait a sec. Let me get you something hot.”

When he returned, Bo Na was with him, a worried look on her face. Both of them wisely held their silence as you gobbled up all the pasta ravenously. When you were done, you fell back on the pillows, sighing contentedly. But guilt immediately set in, chilling your heart. Yoongi. Would he be starving? Would those bastards have provided him food? Water? Involuntary tears welled up and rolled down your cheeks.

“Hey,” Hoseok advanced, flicking a tear away with his finger. “What is it? What happened?”

And you told your friends what had happened, not leaving out a single detail. They listened with eyes that grew wider and wider in shock. Your voice caught several times, and Hoseok sat beside you, rubbing small circles on your back. When you finished, Bo Na’s mouth was set in a straight line.

“The sick bastard.”

She reached out and took your hand, squeezing it. “We will find Yoongi, Y/N. Let us go to the police.”

Hoseok shook his head. “There’s no proof to show that Taehyung did everything Y/N just said. No offense Y/N, I believe you completely. But the police might not. There’s no proof.”

“So?” Bo Na crossed her arms. “So, what else can we do? She already paid him back.”

“No proof of that either.”

You sat up, interjecting them. “But Bong Ju is a witness. He knows I went to Taehyung and paid the money back.”

“That’s right. So, what do we do now?”

Your forehead creased in thought. “Maybe… I’ll go to him and ask him what we should do? He might suggest something.”

“That’s like relying on crumbs, Y/N. No solid plan.” Hoseok stared into your eyes with frank honesty.

“I know, Hobi. But we can’t go to the police. Taehyung might seriously injure Yoongi if he knew we went to the police.”

“True, again. Well, in that case, let’s go to Bong Ju’s. I’ll drive you there.”

“That might risk your life, Hobi.”

“No probs. You are my best friend. Now come on, get dressed. Bo Na, lend some clothes to Y/N, honey.”

*****

You didn’t have your phone to look up Bong Ju’s number. You found him on the yellow pages and called ahead to let him know. When you turned to hand back the phone to Hoseok, he looked at you quizzically.

“What was that for?”

“What was what?”

He sighed. “Why call him? You know thugs are scouring the place to find you.”

You bit your lip. “I wanted to make sure he was at his place. Didn’t want to risk your neck twice in case he wasn’t.”

“Right.” Your friend still shook his head and went to the door. “Let’s go Y/N.”

When the car pulled up outside Bong Ju’s house, you had a sudden bout of anxiety. Would there be an ambush? You weren’t even sure if Bong Ju was genuine after all. You stepped out, whispering to Hoseok to wait down the street.

“I’ll be back in a bit.”

He nodded and eased the car down the road, and you turned to look at the house. As you took a step forward, you caught a movement out of the corner of your eye. The whole street was deserted, despite it being a fine day. Something felt odd. Maybe you should turn back? What you saw next made up your mind.

The window overlooking the street was open, and there were shadows on the wall of the room. Several round ones, like human heads. And one distinct one. A gun. Time to get the hell out of the place. You turned on your heel and pelted down the street, hearing a loud crash behind you as the door swung open. Burly guys ran out, hot on your heels. Shit, how much more running could you do?

You raced to the car, but there was no Hoseok in it.

“HOSEOK??” you screamed at the top of your lungs.

The guys were closer now, you had to make a run for it. Where was Hobi? You jumped in and searched for the keys. They were gone. “Shit, shit, shit. Not now” you were boiling with rage. Where the hell was Hoseok? A guy reached the car door and thrust his hand at you. Anger made you braver than ever, and you bit his arm with all your might. Kicking the door open and hitting his groin with a hard kick, you pushed him aside and fled down the street. By then, you were familiar with fleeing successfully. Taking detours through alleys and narrow lanes, you threw the guys off your scent and hid out in an apartment’s parking lot for some time, just to make sure.

*****

You had to take elaborate round-about lanes to go back to Hoseok’s. Taehyung’s stupid sons of bitches were everywhere, cropping up like mushrooms. Maybe your friend had already returned home. But Hoseok’s car was not in the garage. He had not come back. At least his car had not.

Maybe he had called Bo Na and informed her of his whereabouts. As you stepped in, the carpet muffling your footfalls, you heard Bo Na sobbing into the phone.

“I will send - I will send her.” There was a pause to accommodate a violent fit of sobs. “Please let him go.” A longer pause. “No no no, have her, take her, do whatever you want. Just give me my Hoseok back.”

You stood rooted to the spot, stunned. She sobbed and pleaded, emphasizing how much Hoseok meant to her. To be precise, how less you meant to her. With a final nod that the caller would never see, she hung up and turned to see you staring at her, openmouthed.

“Y/N! I - I never meant…”

“Save your breath, Bo Na.” You cast a hard glare at her. But inwardly you were shriveling up with guilt. It was true that Hoseok was in danger because of you. That was a hard fact. When you spoke again, your voice was barely a whisper.

“I’m sorry I inconvenienced both of you. And I’m sorry Hobi is in trouble because of me.” You wiped the corner of your eyes. “I will go to Taehyung. I’m sorry for all this. You will never see me again.”

“Y/N, it’s not like that -”

“It’s alright. I will get going now.” You turned and made for the door, and you had cleared the doorway when she ran up behind you and clutched your arm.

“Y/N, please. Please listen to me. I’m sorry.” She pulled your arm again. “Let me help you.”

“You’ve helped me enough, Bo Na.” As you tried to shrug her off, she held her ground and hissed angrily.

“Shut UP! Fucking shut up and listen, okay?” She loosened her grip, exhaling slowly. “I talked to one of my friends who knows someone who works for Taehyung. There’s no solid proof but it seems like Yoongi is not in Taehyung’s mansion right now. He’s somewhere else, in one of Taehyung’s luxury cottages. I got the general description of the place without asking the address straight out and raising suspicion.”

There was no word to describe your feelings, so you grasped her by the shoulders and blinked away tears. “Tell me more.”

She gave you a small note on which she had scrawled her friend’s description. “Don’t go to Taehyung’s. He will never take you to Yoongi. Go to the cottage.”

You nodded, staring at the paper in your hand.

Her voice broke again, and she whispered again.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I could never apologize enough. But wait, let me get you something.” She ran off and returned with a drawstring bag. “I’ve packed a flashlight, knife and a lighter in here. Take my car.”

She held out the bag, and you accepted it wordlessly. She tossed her keys, nodding at you in silence. With a hug, you turned and walked out.

*****

It wasn’t difficult to find Taehyung’s cottage. But getting in would be a whole other story. There were armed guys outside the gates, and it was not a quaint little place you had imagined it to be. The building was massive, almost the same size as his mansion, the only difference being more trees and shrubs on the grounds. It most certainly could be called a chateau. The sun was casting long shadows, it would soon be twilight. You decided it would be easier to wait and slink in the shadows after darkness fell.

While you waited in the car, you formed a mental image of how you were going to get in. There was barbed fencing on the walls, but whatever, you could scale them. Something had changed you. Jumping over fences and tackling armed guys was completely out of your league. But you found yourself not scared in the least. The man you loved was trapped in there. Your best friend was held somewhere too. Nothing would scare you off.

It was a full moon that shone down at you when you scaled the wall, silently cursing as the barbs tore through Bo Na’s jeans and drew blood. The drop from the wall was equally efficient in drawing more curses as you limped into the shadows. Once positioned in the shadows, you slowly slunk from tree to tree, staying in the shadows and moving whenever the coast was clear. Your adrenaline made your vision crystal clear; every sense was on high alert. Hands trembling, you scaled a wall again and landed on the corridor of the second floor with a soft thud.

Digging out the flashlight, you gripped it without turning it on. Yoongi had to be somewhere dark. Maybe this place had a basement. If you ever had a captive, you would surely have him tied up in the basement. Trying to make the least sound possible, you softly padded down the stairs until there were no more steps. But this place was no basement. It was only an empty dark space with no rooms, only pillars. Just as you turned to go back up, your foot hit a hard metal object on the floor, and you had to clamp your mouth shut to avoid screaming. You knelt down to inspect, running your fingers on the floor. It was a trap door.

So, there was a basement. But there should be another entrance to the basement, you were sure. Taehyung the high-and-mighty would not prefer jumping down a trap door. An entrance had to be inside the cottage itself, from where anyone could get in. Well, in that case, maybe there wouldn’t be guards guarding the trap door. It was probable they were posted near the other entrance. It would be an advantage for you. The door was a heavy bitch that refused to budge. Your ears buzzed with the effort as you heaved it up, panting and wheezing. You peered down and saw a dim light down below, and cracked marble flooring. There was no ladder to climb down.

It was a gamble to jump down. There might be someone there, who might see or hear you. There was also the light to be wary of. Lying down, you crawled and balanced yourself on your arms till you could hang your head down the entrance. There was no one as far as you could see. It was a tough call, but you decided to jump.

The sound of your shoes hitting the marble was like a gunshot, at least to you it sounded loud enough. You ran like the wind and ducked in a corner, waiting to see if someone had heard you. The basement had a marble corridor that outlined four rooms. The doors were all shut, and a single worn-out light illuminated the whole area. The steps leading down to the basement was at the very end of the corridor, they probably led up to some unused room in the cottage. Your worry was none of these. The doors. Yoongi was behind one of them. But there were four. What if you opened the wrong door?

A quick sweep of your eyes told you there were no guards around. At least for the moment. With a beating heart, you raced through the corridor, having a quick look at all the doors and reaching the stairs at the end. You crouched under the staircase, revisiting all four doors in your mind. Two had been unbolted, so they could be eliminated. The door closest to the stairs would probably be the one. It was easier to reach from the stairs, and the bolt had looked like it had been oiled recently. You decided to risk it and open that one.

*****

Taehyung was generous with his guys; he took good care of them. It made his goons like working for him. They were unfazed by his unscrupulous deeds. Hell, he was a rich bastard who paid them well. His guys were loyal to him and were ready to move Heaven and Earth to get him what he wanted. And now he wanted you.

Taehyung’s guards were not picked easily. They were former soldiers, dishonorably discharged army men, martial artists and such. Only the best of the bad lot served him. They were already fuming that a woman had outrun them not once but thrice. They had their best men combing the county for you. And the best gunmen patrolled the corridors of the cottage.

One such guard had just finished his patrol on the first floor. He methodically went down the stairs, even if he knew there might be no one down there. He stopped in his tracks when he saw a dull light cutting through the darkness. The trap door was open.

*****

It was incredibly dark inside the room. There was an old musty smell that slapped your face as soon as you opened the door. You could not make out anything in the darkness. Should you risk using the flashlight? Just as you weighed the options, a faint clink of metal on metal reached your ears. It sounded like a metal chain. Restraints? Your heart skipped a beat and you punched on the flashlight. The bright beam illuminated a long chain of metal. You ran the beam along the chain and stopped when it hit a figure curled up in a ball.

“Yoongi?”

Your whisper caused the figure to move, and the person sat up, facing the opposite direction as the chains clinked with his movements. It was Yoongi. It was your husband. You ran towards him, a sob catching in your throat. There was a muffled mumble that sounded like your name. You raced to him, slamming onto his back in a tight hug. He was handcuffed, a gag was muffling him, and there was blindfold in place, obscuring his sight.

“Baby, baby,” you sobbed, tearing at the cloth and freeing his eyes.

The gag went flying too, as your fingers gripped it and yanked it hard. You draped yourself on his back, hugging his neck like a koala. He winced in pain, and you drew back in horror.

“Baby, I’m sorry,” you crooned, squatting before him and taking in his face.

There were ugly black bruises around his eyes and more fresh purple ones along his cheek. His shirt had dried blood stains on it, and you lifted it gently to inspect his abdomen. There were bruises all over him, fresh and old, in varying colors ranging from blue to black. Your eyes fell on the metal chains and then your heart sank. Bo Na had anticipated ropes and had armed you with a knife. But these were metal. You couldn’t cut through metal with a knife. You leaned over and nuzzled your forehead against Yoongi’s.

“I’m sorry baby. I - I thought I could save you.” You sobbed out a bitter laugh. “At least I am with you. I let you down.”

He shook his head, wincing as he did so.

“No.” His voice was raspy. “I failed you. I was a fool. I couldn’t,” his face contorted in pain, “-I couldn’t protect you.”

You set the flashlight down, pulling him gently towards you and cradling him against your bosom.

“No honey, don’t say that. I love you, baby.” His face felt so bony. “God, they’ve starved you.”

You leaned in to kiss him, and you were gently brushing his lips when the light suddenly came on, blinding you and flooding the room with radiance. A man stood framed in the doorway, looking at you with cruel eyes. A slow grin spread over his features as he took in your startled eyes. Without a word, he stepped back, closed the door and bolted it, trapping you in with Yoongi.

*****

The door closed behind the guard, leaving Yoongi and you stunned. There was a sound of metal dropping on marble. And the next thing you saw was wisps of some vapor seeping into the room, curling around, the fine mist clearly visible in flashlight’s beam. The vapor grew in volume, oppressing the air around you and making you dizzy. And that was the last thing you remembered seeing before collapsing into unconsciousness.

When you came to, you were in a different room. A bright one. Your vision was hazy, and your mind was still groggy. You could feel your body, there were no ropes or restraints. Gingerly supporting yourself on your arms, you tried to sit upright. The sudden movement gave you a terrible headrush, and the room started spinning.

“Slowly, my princess.”

That voice. That damned deep voice again. You snapped your head to the side to see Kim Taehyung standing there in a full black suit, leaning casually against a glass wall. As your vision cleared, you saw that the glass was a partition. You jumped up and pounded on the glass. There, on the other side of the glass was Yoongi, head bowed and hands restrained. A long chain was wound around his waist, and the other end was attached firmly to a loop embedded in the wall.

Taehyung looked like he was enjoying himself.

“You came for me.”

You gritted your teeth in anger and snapped, “I came for Yoongi.”

“Yoongi! Yoongi!” You yelled yourself hoarse, balling your fists and hitting the glass. But he didn’t look up. Fear crawled all over you, and you shouted even louder.

“He won’t hear you, love. The glass is soundproof.” Taehyung did not move a muscle. “Maybe you’d like if I made him look your way?”

You did not answer, lips pursing up and trembling as sobs threatened to tear out of your body.

“Well, use your words, sugar.”

“Please, please just…”

He looked down at his shoes, bored. “Please what?”

Tears blurred your vision again. “Please let him go.”

“For what in return?”

“I - I gave you the money.”

“Oh, for God’s sakes, Y/N. I don’t care about the money.”

“But… but you wanted…”

“Yeah yeah but I got more than twice my money back. You are a great borrower.”

“What?” You wished he wouldn’t talk in circles. “What do you mean?”

“Who do you think gave you the mortgage on all your estates? Your house?” He paused for dramatic effect and reached into his coat pocket, dangling his trump card with a smirk. “Who bought your ring?”

You gasped, your lips forming an O, completely unable to believe it. Kim Taehyung got you to pledge all of your worldly possessions to him, and took the money you made from pledging it too? How cruel and twisted could a man be?

He enjoyed the look on your face, letting you work out things in your head before speaking. As you stood there stunned, he typed something on his phone. In a few seconds, the door on Yoongi’s side opened, and a guy came in. He landed a swift kick on Yoongi’s middle, waking him up from unconsciousness. There were two more kicks, and then the guy went out and closed the door behind him.

You watched Yoongi raise his head and take in the surroundings. Then his eyes landed on you. He instinctively rushed to move to the glass, but the chain around his waist jerked him back, making him bend over in pain.

Taehyung didn’t want Yoongi stealing his thunder. He cleared his voice, keeping it smooth and silky.

“You know, you made it so easy for me. Bong Ju told me it was a piece of cake to get you to mortgage all the property. Pity you wouldn’t agree to mortgage yourself though.”

“Bong Ju? He’s your man too? You bastard!”

The man simply chuckled. He dug his hands into the pockets of his pants.

“The important thing you have to consider now is,” he walked a couple of steps towards you, whispering, “I bought you out.”

He paused as he swung to take a look at poor Yoongi, still fighting the chains and grimacing in pain.

“You have nothing in the world, nothing except that loser over there. And I’ll take care of that too. But trust me, you won’t be orphaned. You’ll be mine. You’ll be a queen.”

There was nothing left to do except beg. You knelt down, tears streaming down your cheeks. “Please, please just let him go, Taehyung.”

His eyes flickered and he swallowed thickly. “Oh, I love it when you say my name.”

You stayed down on your knees, clasping your palms together as if in prayer. “Please don’t do this, Taehyung. Hoseok and Yoongi did nothing to deserve this.”

He snorted. “Hoseok? Oh, that bastard is already home. And as for him,” his eyes swung at Yoongi with venom, “He has done a lot to deserve this. He stole you from me. He married you and gave you his name.” The nerve running down the middle of his forehead almost popped in his murderous rage. “I could kill him for that.”

“Please, Taehyung. I’ll never cross your path again. Please stop this. I love him, I love Yoongi.”

“SHUT UP!” His voice made you jump, as the veins of his throat stood out due to the exertion. “I had him alive for so long as leverage, to draw you here. But I don’t need him anymore.”

“But- but”

“Enough of this chit-chat. Get here, tell me you’ll be mine.”

“No.” You stood up, furiously brushing the tears from your cheeks. “I’d rather be dead.”

You took a weak karate stance, it was hopeless, but you were not going to give up. He feigned surprise, crossing his hand over his heart.

“Oh, darling. How cute you are!” He came closer, clasping your hands in his. “Don’t be naive. Let me give you a tip.” He pulled you closer, pointing his finger at the tied-up Yoongi.

“Look at his forehead. Look closely.”

Your breath hitched in your throat when you saw what Taehyung pointed at. It was a red laser dot on Yoongi’s forehead, it was certainly from a gun’s laser sight. But there was no one else in the room apart from you, Yoongi and Taehyung. Who was aiming at Yoongi?

Taehyung loved the mix of fear and confusion on your face. He pulled you snug against him, rutting his hips slowly as your husband’s mouth moved in silent screams from the other side of the glass. The sounds were completely blocked by the glass, and Yoongi’s face turned red as he yelled himself hoarse.

Taehyung enjoyed this little show. He was going to claim you before Yoongi. He was going to show that bastard who owned you. All those times his family was insulted in social gatherings came tumbling back, making him lose his mind. Min Yoongi was going to die a loser, knowing that his wife was claimed by his rival.

Yoongi started crying, trying his best to pull himself closer to the glass. His face was covered in tears, wet and red from all the struggle. He closed his eyes and pulled himself forward, trying hard to stop the chain from crushing his midsection. You could almost hear him groan in pain, teeth bared as he charged towards the glass, hitting his palms against it in helpless anger.

The hand around your waist tightened. “Poor boy. Look at him strain. I think he deserves to see a good show before dying, don’t you?”

Your voice cracked down to a whisper. “Please don’t do this, Taehyung.”

“Wow, you sound so sexy with my name rolling off your tongue.”

He pushed you against the glass so Yoongi could see you closer. Your husband could not stand up, not without the chain breaking his ribs. He remained crouched, hands against the glass and eyes pleading, hot tears streaming down. The glass was the only wall that separated Yoongi and you.

Taehyung pushed himself against you, trapping you between his body and the glass.

“Someone brought a knife in a rucksack, hmm?” His hot breath fanned the shell of your ear. Your eyes were looking down, solely focused on the man who was on the other side of the glass. A strong leg pushed your knees apart, grazing your core. “Naughty little girl.”

“Taeh-”

“Shhh.” He grabbed a fistful of hair, sniffing it with deep breaths. “You don’t want him to die, do you?” His hot tongue licked a line along your jaw. “Then stay quiet.”

His large hands roamed your upper body, finding purchase on your breasts, gently kneading them as he moaned in lust. The glass vibrated against your body, as Yoongi beat against it, mouth moving in what clearly were angry expletives. This was the worst kind of torture a man could ever be subjected through, and you wanted to die and be gone before Taehyung went any further.

Fresh hot tears rolled down your closed eyelids when you felt the bulge pressing against your back as the man ground his hips against you. His hands continued kneading the soft flesh, and he twisted the nubs of your nipples, making you gasp and keen into his chest. He trailed soft butterfly kisses on your shoulder blades, one hand reaching between your legs and cupping your hot clothed core.

“Please, please don’t do this to Yoongi.” Your voice was heavily impacted by the sobs that racked your body.

“Oh baby,” he kissed your shoulder as he murmured, “you need privacy?” His cupped hand massaged your core, making you tremble. “This is the last he’ll see of you. Do you really want to cut that time short?”

“N-No.”

“Then just be a good girl and stop talking.” His hand gripped the zipper of your jeans, and you crouched down instinctively, delaying it as much as possible. He laughed lightly. Your crouched position was in level with Yoongi’s tired body on the other side.

“Want to save his neck some pain? I’m game.”

He knelt down, pushing his body against yours, spreading your body flush against the glass. Yoongi looked so miserable that you just couldn’t face him. The laser dot was still very much in place on his forehead. Taehyung tried prying your legs apart, but you just wouldn’t budge.

“Y/N, honey, I would love more foreplay. But not now, just open your legs.”

You didn’t reply. Nor did you move. A violent push sent your head banging against the glass, and two very strong hands dragged your jeans down, ripping the zipper open in the process. Yoongi threw himself at the glass, face utterly contorted in pain, the chain taut as it cut against his flesh.

Taehyung’s hands mercilessly tore the denim away from your legs, the big palms kneading the flesh of your bottom. You pressed your forehead against the glass, looking defeatedly at your husband crying on the other side.

Taehyung was practically salivating at having you in his grasp. This was an encounter he would never forget. His cheeks flushed at the sight of your bare legs and rotund butt. The white underwear was simple, but to him, it was incredibly hot. The fact that Yoongi was just on the other side, watching all of it in humiliation made him heady with lust. He dug a finger under the waistband and ripped the underwear off. You were wriggling far too much for his liking. He thrust an arm against the back of your neck, pinning your head in position, as he took in the view. He licked his lips and aligned his hips so he was spooning you. He was aching to be inside you already. The glass was made of special reinforced material, and he smirked at Yoongi lazily as the crying man pounded against the glass, pleading him to stop.

You had no choice but to stay put. You had to distract your mind from what Taehyung was doing. Your eyes focused on the red dot on Yoongi’s forehead. You just could not look Yoongi in the eye. Not when he was crying and screaming what looked like your name from the movement of his lips. You just wished it would be over soon.

There was the unmistakable sound of fingers unbuckling a belt. And then the sound of a zipper being pulled down. Within seconds, you could feel hot muscle pressed against your back. You were amazed that you still hadn’t shriveled up and died. The hand against your neck was removed. Just as quickly, you were pulled back, dragged by the waist and pushed down on all fours. You tried to keep your hips flat against the marble, but a sharp volley of slaps rained down upon your butt before your hips were forced into position.

Taehyung’s grip on your hips were as tight and hard as iron. You tried raising your body, only to be pushed down again with brutal force. Losing no time, Taehyung rammed himself inside you. He had been hard for so long, and the relief as he plunged into you drew a feral moan deep from his chest. You were too tight, and he grabbed your hair as he hissed at you.

“Fucking let me in, Y/N.”

He received no reply, not that he expected one. He could sense your body heaving, as strong sobs shook your entire being. He saw you raise your head a teeny bit, just to look at Yoongi in dismay. He picked up his pace, sending your head banging against the glass as he dove into you with each snap of his hips. He maintained an unforgiving pace, punctuating his thrusts with moans that almost chilled your blood.

“See how well I fit you, Y/N? You were made for me, baby.”

You had to say it. You couldn’t take it anymore. You had been waiting for Yoongi to be the first one to know. But it had to be said now. It couldn’t wait longer.

“I’m pregnant.” Your whisper came out sounding incredibly hoarse.

Taehyung’s hips stilled. There was a heavy silence, Yoongi’s hands beating the glass was the only mild noise in the otherwise quiet room.

“What?”

“I’m - carrying Yoongi’s baby.”

Taehyung’s jaw clenched. “Does he know?”

“I haven’t yet-” A big hand clamped your mouth shut as he hissed urgently in your ear.

“He shouldn’t.”

You remained silent, and he started thrusting more viciously.

He punctuated each word he spoke with a thrust. “Do.you.understand?”

You had to tell Yoongi. You knew that. Taehyung might kill Yoongi anytime. You did not know what to do. Should you die too? But if you did, the only other living piece of Yoongi would die with you. Whichever way this went, Yoongi had to know.

Taehyung was watching you as he plunged himself into you. Yoongi should never know about the baby. He should die a loser. He had to make sure it remained that way. He saw the red bleary eyes of the man opposite him. He read defeat clearly in those eyes. That should not change.

You tried to make eye contact with your husband. It was incredibly mortifying to look at him as another man pounded into you. But you had to convey the message. You had meant to tell him previously, but you had been unexpectedly gassed and knocked out cold. As soon as you saw him looking at you, your heart broke into a million pieces. The man staring at you was not your husband. He was just a shell of the man he had been. All the light had gone from his eyes. He was in a way already dead.

You mouthed the words urgently, but he just stared at you blankly.

“Baby, focus.” You prayed that he could make out the words. “I’m.” You pointed at yourself. “Pregnant.”

He still looked blank, there was no recognition. Taehyung was still going at it, and you decided to hazard a mime by pointing at your belly.

Just as your hands pointed to your belly and Yoongi’s eyebrows shot up, there was a splash of red all over the glass. You recoiled in fright, confused and scared. And then you saw. The red trickled down the glass, clearing the field to reveal a sight that would be burned into your memory forever. Taehyung finished with a long drawn out moan, spilling himself inside you. His lips curled in a sick smirk. His sniper certainly deserved a raise. And a bonus.

*****

Three years later

You had grown to be scared of the bedroom. Not only because of the things Taehyung did to you but also because of the nightmares. It was always the same horrible image of Yoongi’s bloodied face maimed beyond recognition. The blood splatters on the glass. The vacant eyes and the raised eyebrows that had stilled forever. It came back to haunt you every night, there was absolutely nothing that could erase it from your mind.

Every night was a battle. The bedroom made your heart wilt, it left you scared of sleeping. Every time your head hit the pillow, it made your chest tighten and burn like it was on fire. Just the thought of the approaching nightfall made your evenings anxious and dismal. It had been three years already, but you still half-expected Yoongi to come back and hug you, quoting Woolf in your ears in the softest of whispers. The only little part of Yoongi that was still alive was your daughter. Your baby girl made with the love that overflowed between Yoongi and you.

Taehyung had originally intended to destroy the baby. He did not want that man’s child growing up in his house. Those eyes and dark hair reminded him of his enemy every time he saw the child. He did not care for the girl; she was just a nuisance for him. But he knew that she was the only thread tying you to the world. If he snapped it, he might have to lose you too. So, he gritted his teeth and bore it, trying his best to steer clear of your daughter.

He had married you and given you his name. It was forced, of course, you had had no say in it. But much to his chagrin, the little bastard girl did not take his name. You had flat out refused to give her his surname. She remained the only Min in your world, the only little comfort in your otherwise horrible life.

It made your skin crawl whenever you felt Taehyung’s touch on you. It kept reminding you of the first time he took you in that room, letting your husband watch in humiliation. You could never ever forgive Taehyung for that.

Taehyung’s patience was wearing thin. He had let you keep that little horror, the mini version of Yoongi he so despised. He had given you ample time to get adjusted to him. What more was he expected to do? Just watching you tend to your daughter made him boil in rage. It was his child that you should be tending to. He was at a loss to understand how you still were not with his child, after all his efforts and precautions. He badly wanted to trap you and make you finally his. What better than a child to seal the deal?

*****

It was a cold winter morning. The lake near Taehyung’s winter villa had frozen and become a sheet of hard ice. The ice hadn’t properly frozen yet, there were still brittle patches of ice on the lake. You had made sure to lock the doors so your daughter wouldn’t wander out. You were in the process of baking some cookies for her when you heard Taehyung, your husband, shouting for you.

“Y/N!”

The sound came from the bedroom. Untying your apron and wiping your hands, you walked automatically in the direction of his voice. Ignoring him would only result in punishments, and you weren’t in the mood for them. These days, he had also started spanking your daughter if you didn’t toe the line.

The familiar tightening of your chest made your breath catch as you entered the bedroom. You stood there in complete shock, eyes wide and jaw hanging. The whole closet had been rummaged; all the clothes were strewn on the floor. Your eyes wandered along the strewn things on the floor until they stopped on finding what they had been scared to find. Your heart started beating fast, you were sure you were going to be sick.

Lying on the floor was an old shoebox, the contents of it scattered around. You had used it to keep little odds and ends, but the main object that you had hidden in it was missing.

“Searching for something?”

Taehyung held his hand out, rattling the pills in the little pillbox. His eyes were fiery, he looked like he was about to snap. Taehyung had two distinct tempers. One was the hot rage that would make him scream, hit you, overturn tables and break everything around him. The other was a cold mean streak, the one that made him plot so vehemently for the downfall of the entire Min clan. You were fearful and frightened, at a loss to know which side of him was going to pounce on you.

He stepped towards you slowly, eyes glinting murderously.

“Three years. Three years I’ve tried and you’ve just been taking these behind my back?”

He threw the pillbox down, sending it ricocheting off the floor.

“You think I’m a fool, Y/N?” His voice was rising to a dangerously high pitch. “You had the nerve to do this? After I let you keep that - that bastard’s child?”

One thing Taehyung had accomplished in three years was making your mouth never dare to answer him back. You stood motionless, unable to get a word out. You had been so sure that he wouldn’t find those birth control pills. You had hidden them successfully for so long. How could this happen?

“You answer me right now, bitch!”

His large fingers closed around your throat, threatening to choke you.

“I- I won’t carry your child.” The hold around your throat grew tighter.

“Oh, you won’t?” He raised his eyebrows in mock surprise.

“I’d rather die than have your child.”

His hands left your neck abruptly as if he had touched something disgusting. There was a mean glint in his eyes as he stepped back and stared at you without breaking eye contact.

“We’ll see about that.”

He stormed out of the room. leaving you standing amid all the mess on the floor.

*****

You were back in the kitchen, fuming at Taehyung’s audacity in asking you to have his child. Who did he think you were? It was only because of your daughter that you suffered his existence around you. You had thought of poisoning him numerous times. But the clever bastard had made sure that you would have not a penny to your name if he died before you. You couldn’t be on the streets, not with Min Yoongi’s daughter. No. A good chunk of Taehyung’s money was what he conned and acquired from the Min family. It was your money, and your daughter’s. You just had to put up with him until you found a way out of all the mess.

You were whisking eggs, muttering to yourself furiously, thinking about what would happen later with Taehyung. He would surely give you hell. It made you tremble with anger. Just then, you thought you heard something. You looked out of the window, hearing the far-off voices of Taehyung and your daughter carrying through the wind. You couldn’t see from the kitchen window, and you hurried to the porch to see.

There, walking on the frozen lake with your little daughter by his side, was Taehyung. He was laughing and smiling down at her, letting her swirl around as she held his fingers. He was leading her to the middle of the lake. The part which hadn’t frozen over completely. The part which had a thin sheet of brittle ice.

“No!” You raced out of the house, not minding the cold air biting your bare arms. “Min Ha Neul! No, no! Come back!”

Ha Neul giggled on seeing you. She probably thought you were running to play with her too. She felt Taehyung tugging at her sleeve gently, and she followed him closer to the thin expanse of ice.

You pelted down the snow at full speed, shouting at your daughter to get away from the ice. Before you could reach her, it happened. Ha Neul was standing on the ice one moment, and gone the next. The ice cracked around her feet, plunging her into the horribly cold water.

“No! Baby!” You tripped on the slippery ice and fell, your leg suffering a nasty twist in the process. You couldn’t move, and you lay on the ice, pain shooting up your ankle. Your shouts were hysterical.

“Taehyung! Please! I’ll do anything! Please!”

The man had crossed his arms, standing away from the deep icy crater. When he heard your scream, his mouth twisted in a sweet smile.

“Are you sure?”

“God, just please get her out! I’ll do anything, I promise.”

There was a splash, and Taehyung disappeared too. You dragged your leg and crawled towards the hole he had jumped through. Within seconds, he returned, carrying an unconscious Ha Neul in his arms. He looked at you and flashed you a sickly-sweet smile. He had gotten his way.

*****

“Ready?”

Taehyung was lying on his side, hand supporting his head as he looked at you from the bed. His face betrayed no sign of depravity. He looked angelic, bangs brushing his brows as he eyed you eagerly. He was wearing his boxy smile, so bright and joyful that no one could ever guess what a monster he really was.

You were standing a little farther from him, near the little wastebasket in your bedroom. You had been completely defeated. There was no point in rebelling against him. You nodded wearily.

“Do it then.”

Your eyes welled up as you opened the pillbox in your hands, emptying all the pills into the wastebasket. You idly watched all the pills fall in slow motion, it felt like they were taking away your dignity with them. Finally, you tossed the box in, turning to Taehyung and holding up your empty hands.

His smile grew even wider. He stretched his hand out, extending it to you.

“Come here, baby”

You walked into his arms, and he pulled you onto him in a tight embrace. With a deep satisfied sniff, he inhaled the smell of your hair. His palms rubbed soft circles on your back.

“We’re going to have such beautiful babies, darling.”

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