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theharrowing · 8 months

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Collateral 🗡️ 20: Trapped in limbo

Your ex-boyfriend gets in over his head working for the local mafia, and Boss Min has come to collect his payment: You.

But was it simply a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or has he always had his sights on you?

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🗡️ Yoongi x Female Reader x Namjoon, Jungkook x Female Reader, Jungkook x Taehyung

🗡️ word count: 22.8k

🗡️ mafia au, strangers to lovers, graphic violence, major character injury, poly, smut, angst, fluff, nsfw, explicit 21+

🗡️ warnings: lots and lots of crying; grief; medical stuff i am only pretending to understand; hidden doors; anxiety, panic, fainting, & PTSD; mention of past abuse; dream gore that borders on romantic; graphic & violent nightmares; recreational drinking & drug use (mdma, cocaine, weed); miscommunication & lack of communication due to emotional distress; smut (oral and vaginal sex; not quite somnophilia but almost; orgasm denial thanks to medication; sex while on drugs; fingering; use of restraints; a hint of booty play; cum swallowing); every smut scene is a fucking mess.

🗡️ note: grief is a deep sorrow that we experience for so many more reasons than when someone passes away. sometimes we grieve people who are still with us. other times, we grieve a relationship before it has come to an end. this chapter, and every remaining chapter of Collateral, is going to deal a lot with grief. this chapter was tough to write, and then i couldn't stop. all it was meant to be was a handful of scenes with heavy dialogue interspersed with anxiety and adjusting to medication and messy smut, and somehow we reached that bonkers word count. i didn't once stray from the outline, i am just incapable of being brief, these days. anyway, there will be some time skips/blurs because of the medication, and between one and a half and two weeks pass.

🗡️ beta read by @neoneunnajimin!

🗡️ posted on sept. 2023 | read on ao3

It is unclear what time you hear a knock at the door. You are unsure where your purse ended up in last night's scuffle, the hints of sun that would be visible are blocked by deep burgundy curtains, and your vision is so blurry from exhaustion and tears, that it is hard to parse whether or not there is a clock amongst all the strange antique furnishings of Seokjin and Hoseok's living room.

The sound of footsteps scampering behind the couch, presumably from the kitchen, surprises you, and you wonder whether you truly have been awake this entire time, or somewhere in an in-between of consciousness and unconsciousness.

Voices chatter low and hurried, and then a figure rushes over and sits at your side. It takes two heavy blinks to realize that the man settling in beside you is Taehyung dressed dapperly in all black, and when you cock your head to the right in question, his plastered smile falls into a frown.

"I'm so sorry about everything that happened," Taehyung begins. You want to shake your head and tell him that it is not his fault, but all you can bring yourself to do is stare and blink. "Let me start off by saying everyone is alive."

"Everyone," you mumble quietly, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. With a heavy exhale, you attempt to smile.

"Jimin was shot in the shoulder, and it was the impact of hitting the ground that knocked him out. Although he has not suffered too much blood loss, and his vitals are stable, he has not woken up, and I am unsure when we can expect him to, but there does not appear to be any brain damage."

These are a lot of words—too many words, in fact, for you to follow along with, and you simply nod. All you hold onto is the fact that Jimin is alive; for now, that is enough.

"Yoongi," you mutter, elongating the vowels. Once more, Taehyung frowns.

"Yoongi has a gash across his eye, starting above the brow and extending to the apple of his cheek." As Taehyung describes the wound, your heart pounds, and nausea fills your insides. He continues, "But, luckily, his eyeball is intact and unharmed. There does not appear to be any vision impairment."

"How…" you begin, brow and lips falling into a frown, but the words die on your tongue.

Taehyung says your first name, low and slow, like someone gently regarding a child. Hearing your name spoken aloud, rather than a nickname, causes the hairs on your arms to stand, and you swallow a lump of worry.

"What do you remember, after Jimin was shot?"

You search Taehyung's face while the events return in fragments. Once Jimin fell, you reacted by shooting his assailant multiple times. At the time, you were worried—in fact, convinced—that Jimin was dead, and all you could feel in that moment was rage. Once your bullets ran out, you wanted to bash the man's face in, but you were held back. Then you took out your knife, which was pulled away from you.

"I emptied my clip but it wasn’t enough. I wanted to stab him," you say. "The man, I mean. But my knife was taken away."

Taehyung leans close and reaches for both of your clammy hands, holding firmly while rubbing the pads of his thumbs over your knuckles as he speaks very softly. "When Namjoon attempted to pull your knife away, Yoongi was—" Taehyung sighs, "—he was standing too close. You and Namjoon both yanked at your arm, and in that motion, the tip of the blade sliced his face."

It takes several tense, quiet moments before anything Taehyung says fully computes. You stare at him, searching his face while the synapses fire inside your brain in an attempt to communicate what you see, feel, and hear. And then, like a thin layer of dust settling over all it can touch, the information begins to trickle down and shroud you.

"I…" you mutter, feeling tears well and fall. You have cried so much that you neither sniffle nor tremble as your cheeks grow wetter and wetter. And then, you say it. "I cut Yoongi."

"It was an accident," Taehyung is quick to add, and you rip your hands from his grasp and ball them in front of your face, feeling your chest tighten and tighten, squeezing the air out.

This cannot be. You cannot be responsible for injuring Yoongi. How will you ever face him again, knowing what you have done?

"I'm dreaming," you mutter, suddenly feeling hysterical. Laughter works through your chest just as quickly as panic rises, and you shake your head, unable to control your emotions. "This is just a bad dream. There's no way—"

"Would you like to see him?" Taehyung asks, snapping you back to reality.

With a sniffle, you shake your head, horrified at the prospect of facing Yoongi after what you have done.

"How could I?" you mutter uselessly into your balled fists. "How could I face him? How could he ever look at me again?"

Again, Taehyung says your first name as he gently reaches for your hands and attempts to remove them from in front of your face. You allow him to, sighing as they fall into your lap. "It was an accident. He does not blame you. None of us do."

But you know that at least one of them does. "Jeongguk," you mutter, remembering his snarl as he told you, You've done enough.

With a sigh, Taehyung shakes his head. "Jeongguk was just scared. He was angry in the moment, but he does not hold it against you."

With a scoff, you shake your head in return; there is no way Jeongguk would forgive you so easily. It took months to get on his good side and only seconds for him to turn on you. Your voice is weak and soft as you rasp, "I doubt it."

"Come with me to the mansion," Taehyung says, sitting up and scooting a fraction of an inch closer. "Yoongi and Namjoon want to see you, and our family psychiatrist Christopher is on standby, should you need to talk to him."

"What I need is to be sedated," you grumble as you roll your shoulders and squeeze your eyes momentarily shut. "I couldn't sleep. Just kept seeing the man's head explode—the man Hoseok shot."

Taehyung's lips twitch upward as he says, "We can figure something out."

Looking down at yourself, you see Hoseok's black pajamas and sigh. "I'm keeping these," you say, resolved not to change into your dress again.

"They're yours," Taehyung responds with a soft laugh, glancing over your shoulder for a brief moment. You wonder whether Seokjin or Hoseok are standing back there, but you also don't care enough to turn.

"Alright," you concede with a huff and sit forward, stretching your back and letting out a deep, low yawn. "We can return to the mansion, but I'm not…I don't know how much I will be able to talk. I'm so fucking tired."

Taehyung smiles, but it does not reach his eyes. It is the smile of someone who is exhausted but pleased with the way things are going in the present moment; the smile of someone glad he does not need to convince you any further to go home. "Christopher can recommend something for you to take, and we can get you straight into bed, if you prefer."

"My purse," you grumble, looking around.

"It was in my vehicle," Taehyung says. "I gave it to Namjoon for safekeeping."

With another nod, you shift, sitting forward, then you stretch your legs from where they had been bunched and pretzled beneath you. As you stand from the couch and stretch again—this time extending all your limbs, twisting your back, breathing deeply—it hits you that you are returning home, and anxiety swells.

But you know that there is no way you can stay away from home. No matter how badly Yoongi has been injured, and how guilty you feel about what has happened, you need to face it. You need to return to your home, to your bed, to your men.

"Ready?" Taehyung asks softly, rounding the couch toward the front door.

Only then do you turn to your left and find Hoseok leaning against the banister at the bottom landing of the stairs, barely out of view from where you had been sitting. Although he smiles, it is a sad expression, and he watches you silently.

"I'm ready," you respond, gaze lingering on Hoseok before dropping to the floor.

Your limbs are heavy as you shuffle toward the door. On the arm of the couch, your black dress is folded neatly, and you take it in your hands, rubbing your fingers over the soft satin material.

"Thanks for the pajamas," you say softly with a hint of a smile, doing your best at humor despite feeling lower than you think you have ever felt.

Hoseok smiles when you glance back up and catch his eye, responding, "My pleasure. I hope the garments treat you well."

This makes you laugh, but it also forces more tears to work their way out with a soft sob and a sniffle. With an arm gently wrapped around your lower back, Taehyung guides you to the entrance, where you slip on your ballet flats, and head out the door.

The sun is high and bright, signaling late morning, and you squint and lift your hand to block the light. To your surprise, parked beside a large black sedan is a little white golf cart, and Taehyung steers you toward it.

"Sick ride," you grumble with an attempted grin.

Taehyung's hand drops away as you lean forward and step into the cart, taking a seat on the little white plastic bench. It only takes a moment for Taehyung to round the front and enter, and then you are off, making your way from Hoseok's home down a short gravel and dirt road tucked away in some trees, to Yoongi's mansion.

The driveway is packed with vehicles, making you substantially more nervous than you already had been, and you swallow thickly while attempting to steady your breathing. Rather than driving to the front door, Taehyung takes an immediate right and stops the cart on the side of the mansion. From here, there are no clear paths to the gardens or the pool, and you are confused when Taehyung gets out of the vehicle and begins to walk toward where there is a shrub wall that intersects with the side of the mansion.

It takes a moment to process the fact that you are in charge of manually moving your limbs, and with a sigh, you step out of the cart, hugging your black satin dress tight to your chest. Taehyung walks to the intersection of shrubbery and building, and then he reaches into the greenery at chest height before pushing a section of it open and revealing a hidden door.

"I bet you have no idea how many secrets this place holds," he says with a grin, and you shake your head before scurrying after him, through the shrub-covered door.

A narrow path between shrub wall and dark brown wood greets you, and Taehyung walks toward the back, to where a door can be found against the side of the house. He punches in a code, leans forward to scan his retina, and then twists a knob, gaining entrance.

"Yoongi is currently meeting with the security team and some others, hence all the vehicles," Taehyung says as he holds the door open for you to enter. "They should be finished soon."

As you step inside, you are greeted by a set of stairs that travel down under the mansion. Although there is a light that Taehyung switches on, and the steps are carpeted in a welcoming royal blue, there is something so foreboding about a surprise set of stairs leading down into the earth.

"Where are we?" you ask as Taehyung closes the door tightly behind you and begins to descend on your right. You do your best to keep up, loosely holding onto a wooden railing on your left while your other hand grips your satin dress close to your chest.

"Beside the kitchen," Taehyung responds. "Between the kitchen and living room, to be exact."

Once you reach the basement level, Taehyung flips on another switch and turns off the stairwell light behind you. There is an large room carpeted and furnished in blues, blacks, and tans, and you are surprised as you look around at the space. It smells somewhat musty, and you wonder when the last time anyone actually came down here may have been.

"We don't use this space anymore," Taehyung says as if reading your mind. "But when Yoongi's parents were still alive, this was where he would spend a lot of his time."

You hum and nod, glancing around further. Along a back wall is a wooden bar, now empty, but you imagine it stocked with bottles of whatever liquors a younger version of Yoongi may have liked. There are also recreational table games on the far end that look unfamiliar, as well as a pool table. A dartboard and pool cues share the same wall with the bar top, and you try to imagine Yoongi and Namjoon, and probably also Ryujin, spending their evenings down here as teenagers.

"Our group used to come down here to party and debrief in the early days," Taehyung adds as you continue to walk through the space toward a door along the wall ahead. "But that was before Yoongi owned hotels, casinos, nightclubs, and all that."

"Oh," you mutter, trying to imagine a Yoongi who did not own half of Seoul. You wonder how much of his empire he inherited from his father versus how much of it he built himself.

You almost feel remorse over never knowing that side of Yoongi—a younger man who was not so tied down to his duties as a mafia king. But then you remember the scars along his sides, chest, and stomach, and you wonder whether there was ever a carefree man in Yoongi's skin.

"Just a little further," Taehyung says, holding his hand up toward the door at the far end.

"Where does this lead to?" you ask.

"We are going to go up one more set of steps and end up on the other end of the hall, " Taehyung explains, voice soft, deep, and measured. "From there, we will tip-toe up the stairs and wait for Yoongi and Namjoon. Although this is the scenic route, I thought having to walk through the front door might be too stressful for you. I also thought it would be in your best interest to become well acquainted with these more hidden parts of the home."

This gives you pause, and you stumble on your next step ever so slightly, catching the toe of your right ballet flat against the soft carpet beneath. "Oh?"

With a soft sigh, Taehyung stops and turns to you, and you halt, doing the same.

"Just in case," he says, regarding you with a hint of a frown. "I don't want to worry you or anything…but I feel like these are secrets you should know because, well, you never know."

The two of you stand facing one another for several quiet seconds, and then you nod and heavy-blink, turning your attention back toward the door. Everything feels so ominous, even simple gestures of kindness, and you attempt to swallow down the fact that this is your reality.

"Thank you," you mutter quietly, clearing your throat to speak more clearly as you glance at Taehyung once again. "I appreciate it."

Taehyung cracks a smile, then holds his hand out to the door, sing-songing a corny, "Ladies first," and you chuckle, hesitating before reaching for the knob and turning it. It opens to another dark stairwell, and Taehyung steps forward and rubs along the wall before light illuminates the narrow space. You note that the light switches seem to be along the same wall on both ends of the room, just in case the information may one day come in handy.

As you begin to ascend, Taehyung closes the door behind you and steps in line to your right. You make your way further up, closer to your destination, and your heart begins to pound. Faced with the opportunity of seeing Yoongi and Namjoon again has you feeling so many ways, and they all swirl uncomfortably in your gut. You know they are likely not angry with you…but what if they are?

Rather than go straight up, this stairwell stops halfway and curves around, much like a standard building stairwell, only carpeted. At the top of the stairs, Taehyung reaches in front of you and very gently, slowly pulls on a large metal handle.

He opens the door just as slowly, and you realize that he must be attempting to be as silent as possible. Although you are unable to detect any sound coming from whoever must be meeting in the main hall, you are surprised that Taehyung is going to such great lengths to be silent.

Or maybe, you consider, he is not doing this because he feels you need to be silent in this moment. Maybe Taehyung is doing this to show you just how silent this door is so that you can store the information for later. Although you certainly feel paranoid for considering the notion, it does make sense that he would both reveal a somewhat secret passage to you and showcase just how secret it may be.

And you nearly question how secretive a door presumably at the end of a hallway could possibly be, until you step out into a room that is certainly not the hallway, and Taehyung closes a panel of wall that does not look at all like a door. His fingers pass over a section along the very well-concealed crack about chest height and press in. Silently, the door unlatches and pushes forward, and you watch with your mouth hanging agape as he demonstrates opening and closing it.

The dining room you stand in is the larger of the two. During your tour with Felix and Changbin all that time ago, you never came to this room. It was simply described as the much larger one at the end of the hall.

The scale of this room is rather enormous. It appears as if more than twenty people could sit around the long dark wood table, and the décor is very similar to the smaller room—brown leather-topped chairs with intricately carved patterns, dark wood wainscoting and blood-red wallpaper, with brass sconces and crystal chandeliers.

You stand in the far corner along the wall containing the entrance, which is mid-way through the room, to the right. The door hangs open, and now you can hear the faint voices of men coming from down the hallway. As you step out, you realize you are at the very end of the hall. Ordinarily, this door is closed, and it is one you had never considered going into, before.

"Come, now," Taehyung says quietly, toeing out of his shoes and bending to pick them up.

You do the same and scurry ahead as he begins to make his way toward the large stairwell ahead and to the right. Now that you are in a part of the mansion that feels like home, your nervousness turns to nausea.

Taehyung is no longer attempting to be silent, and he walks ahead, seemingly blocking you from the view of others as he waves to the men from over the banister of the stairwell and then straightens out. You have no desire to be perceived in any way just yet, so you prance up to the landing on your tiptoes. Listen as you try, you do not hear a familiar voice speaking.

"Should I join you for the time being?" Taehyung asks as you reach the top, and you turn toward the master suite, swallowing thickly.

"Yes, please," you mutter, somewhat embarrassed by how small you sound.

A warm, gentle hand rubs over the small of your back, and it is all the encouragement you need to continue forward. Although you cannot confidently guess how the others must feel about you at the present moment, you are at least grateful to have an ally in Taehyung.

The two of you drop your shoes outside the bedroom door, and you walk ahead into the space that you have come to know as your haven. Floral and musk are light in the air, but you can only detect traces of Yoongi and Namjoon lingering.

Taehyung walks ahead, straight to the sofa, and he reaches for the remote. It is so casual and domestic that when he turns to you with a soft smile and pats the cushion beside him, a wide, happy grin tugs at the ends of your lips.

"I heard you like Ghibli films," Taehyung says as you walk over, and as soon as you plop down to his left, he swings his legs up onto the cushion and leans ever so slightly closer. His scent is subdued, but it is the spicy, earthy blend you remember from the night he carried you close to his chest.

"I do," you respond, staring ahead at the black screen of the television while attempting to get your bearings.

"Which have you seen, so far?"

You think back to the private jets, to Yoongi and Namjoon, and also to Jimin. Your lips fall to a frown before you school your expression and wet your lips.

“Howl's Moving Castle and Spirited Away,” you respond. “And part of Princess Mononoke, but we fell asleep.”

Taehyung shifts beside you excitedly, lifting the remote and clicking through menus as he says, “Princess Mononoke is my favorite.”

This calm, gentle side of Taehyung might just be your favorite. While snarky Taehyung has been entertaining and quite suggestive, mafia Taehyung has been deadly and protective, and doctor Taehyung has been an actual savior to the family and to you so many times, this Taehyung is patient and considerate. This is the same Taehyung who held you gently in his arms to take you to a bath and to check in to make sure you still felt comfortable and safe with everything that had transpired in his sex room. This Taehyung feels like a friend.

"How long will they all be meeting?" you blurt as Taehyung finds the title and presses play.

He shifts forward to set the remote onto the table and then sits back, placing his hand upright and wiggling his fingers. You take the invitation and slowly lower your hand into his, which he gently caresses with his fingertips. A voiceover introduces the film, but Taehyung does not seem to care about pausing or lowering the volume.

"Hard to say," he responds softly, eyes on the foggy opening scene. "When I came to get you, they were still pretty deep into their conversation. Things like this can sometimes take all day."

"All day," you mutter unhappily under your breath. Sure, you may worry about seeing Yoongi and Namjoon, but not seeing them fills you with the same amount of angst.

Taehyung sighs, and rather than continue delicately playing with your hand, he grabs it and twines his fingers between yours. The gesture makes you frown despite how warm your chest becomes.

“I can’t imagine how you must be feeling,” he says, eyes still on the screen but inattentive. Perhaps this is his way of consoling someone; perhaps, for once, direct eye contact is too much for him.

You scoff slightly and shrug, looking down at your hands. “I’m not really sure how I’m feeling,” you admit.

Taehyung shifts beside you, and you turn to look at him. His eyes are wide and caring, and they peer straight into your heart. All at once, you feel shy, and you rip your gaze away, to the wall just below the television as you realize he was likely not avoiding eye contact for his sake but for yours.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks quietly, filling you to the brim with sadness.

You heavy-blink and attempt not to cry, muttering, “I injured someone I love. What’s there to talk about?”

Taehyung is quick to say, "It was an accident," but not in a way that is placating or defensive.

"Accident or not," you begin, eyes falling to your entwined hands as you imagine all the ways in which you have caused Yoongi harm with one simple accident. With a sigh, you continue, feeling the tremble that works its way through your words. "What if I had blinded him? Or cut him somewhere life-threatening? I could have caused so much harm, I could have—"

"But you didn't," Taehyung interrupts insistently. "You did none of those things. And dwelling on all the what-ifs is not going to do you any good."

Taehyung is correct, and you are thankful for his calm, assuring presence. "I know," you utter, defeated.

Sure, it does no good to dwell on all the possibilities, but knowing that does not make it any easier not to.

"You've been through a lot in these past couple of months," Taehyung speaks over the movie, eyes once again watching as characters move across the screen. You see light, movement, and color, but you do not fully register anything taking place. You are not sure you could if you tried.

As Taehyung's words settle over you, you scoff, muttering, "That's a fucking understatement."

To your surprise, Taehyung chuckles softly. Barely any sound emits, but you can feel the rise and fall of his shoulders beside you. Although levity is nice, you cannot ignore the glaring truth.

"Is it always this way?" you ask.

This is not the first time you have asked a question like this, but you feel the need to, anyway. And when silence hangs between the two of you, speaking volumes louder than anything Taehyung could offer, unease settles deep.

With a sigh, you close your eyes, feeling tears build. And when you admit aloud, "I'm not sure how much longer I can do this," you feel the grip on your hand loosen and then tighten.

"Do what?" Taehyung asks, although you cannot imagine he requires prompting; Taehyung knows damn well what about this situation you cannot withstand. He has been present for each moment during which your foundation has been forced to crack little by little.

"All of this," you respond through another sigh. You pull your hand away from Taehyung's and lift your feet to the cushion, wrapping your arms around your shins and resting your forehead in the valley between your knees.

"I love Yoongi," you mutter into the small space that warms with each of your exhales. "And Namjoon, and to an extent, all of you. But this lifestyle is killing me, and I can't take it anymore."

"Killing you?" Taehyung asks somewhat teasingly, making you crack a smile over your dramatics.

You lift your head just enough to turn and face him, returning his fond smile with a weak one. "Emotionally, yes. I feel like I am dying."

Taehyung's smile only dips some, but his eyes remain just as bright. "Trauma tends to make us feel heavy or a little numb, but it will all pass."

"I don't want that," you bite back, feeling a burst of annoyance. "I just want to live a normal fucking life. How hard is that?"

This time, when Taehyung laughs, the sound is deep, playful, and perhaps a little mocking. "What the fuck is a normal life?" he asks, sounding just a bit defensive.

"I don't know," you admit. "Something that does not involve gunfire and hard drugs. I can't keep watching men die. And I can't keep watching as my loved one get injured."

Taehyung opens his mouth to speak, but his eyes drift up and widen. His posture shifts, sitting up only slightly taller, and you hesitate before turning, scared of who you might find.

"Knock, knock," Namjoon calls, and your heart kicks up hard and fast between your ribs.

All trepidation you may have felt about seeing him melts, and you throw your legs to the floor and stand-spin with such a start it makes you dizzy. Namjoon stands in the doorway with a loving smile, wearing a black tee tucked into black jeans—surprisingly casual, considering he seems to have come from an important meeting. His hands, which are in his front pockets, slide out, and he lifts his arms high, asking without words for a hug.

You run over on bare feet and hop up, throwing yourself into Namjoon's chest as your arms wrap around his neck. He bends and holds you in a tight, firm hug, groaning softly against your forehead as he squeezes and releases.

"Moments away from you always feel like a lifetime," Namjoon utters softly, tugging at your heart and ripping the air from your lungs. You wish he wouldn't say shit like this.

"I missed you too," is all you can bring yourself to say, and as he releases from the hug, you slide your hands to his chest, gently grip at his shirt, and bury your face against him, breathing in his scent and blocking out the rest of the world.

The way Namjoon rubs his hands over your shoulders and arms, giving gentle squeezes, feels like gestures of impatience and makes you think he would like you to stop this sorry attempt at an embrace, but you hold on tight and close your eyes even tighter, silently insisting on just a little while longer.

"Are you watching Princess Mononoke?" Namjoon asks over your head, resting his chin against you.

"Watching is a strong word," Taehyung responds in the teasing tone you have come to expect but have not heard from him yet today. "Doll was mostly sitting here being sulky."

"Wow!" you respond defensively, finally releasing your hold on Namjoon to turn and glare at your so-called friend who stares back with a wide, playful grin.

Gently, Namjoon places the side of his finger under your chin and motions for you to turn to him. "There you are," he utters sweetly as you meet his gaze.

Your heart sinks as you take in his sweet, welcoming expression. Namjoon, standing here like this, is the epitome of love, and all you can think about is how badly you need to get away from the lifestyle he is a part of before you have to watch another one of your closest friends get shot.

Namjoon's smile falters, and he cocks his head so slightly, it is hardly a movement. Anguish rises, and you swallow it down, then make your best attempt at a smile.

"I'm sorry," you utter weakly, nibbling on the inside of your lip as you attempt to sort out what exactly you want to apologize for this time. "I, uh…I don't feel very good. I don't want to…I'm scared to…"

See Yoongi.

No matter how many ways you attempt to formulate precisely how you feel, there is no way to finish that sentence, and you close your eyes in time for tears to break.

How many more times are you going to feel hopeless and sad over Yoongi? How many times will Namjoon have to console the two of you? You are certain that the two of them—that everyone in this family—would be better off if you were not here. Clearly, this lifestyle does not affect them the way it does you, and there will only be so much that they will be able to tolerate until you become more of a burden than you are worth.

"Don't want to, what?" Namjoon asks gently, hands rubbing from the tops of your shoulders down to your elbows and back up.

"What if he hates me?" you mutter, tears becoming hot streams pouring down your cheeks.

Namjoon chuckles, and you frown; now is not the time for him to be making fun of you. But his voice is soft and kind as he asks, "Sweetheart, how many times are we going to have to go over this?"

Although you know his question comes with good intentions, it only makes you feel worse. Because yes, indeed, how many times are the three of you going to have to go over this? How many times is Yoongi's lifestyle going to cause crushing grief and sadness? How many fucking times are you going to have to fear facing him?

It's not fair. None of this is fair.

"Yoongi is not upset with you, or with me," Namjoon insists. "So we gave him a little cut, so what? He already has plenty of scars."

"That's not—" the point, you fail to say. "I don't want—how can I look at him knowing I've given him a scar?"

Bile rises, and you feel sick. All you can picture is blood seeping from between Yoongi's fingers, blood splattering against concrete, blood staining all of your hopes and dreams a deep, menacing red.

Taking two steps back and spinning to rejoin Taehyung on the couch, the blood seems to leave your head, causing you to wobble on your feet and crash back against Namjoon. The room is stilted and tilts to a fro, and you swallow a lump, closing your eyes tight while two warm hands steady you by the arms.

"Sweetheart?" Namjoon asks, but his voice is too distant, and although you know that he is directly behind you, holding onto you, you fear that if you responded, he would be too far away to hear you.

Firmly, Taehyung says your first name, hand holding your jaw at an upward angle while your limbs sink heavily into the couch. When did you approach the couch?

"I'm gonna…" you mutter, mouth dry and full of cotton, body feeling a million miles away from your head as you feel the urge to faint. You attempt to look around, but light and shadow only trail and smudge uselessly. You feel like you are going to be sick, and you squeeze your eyes closed.

When you open your eyes again, you are lying on the couch, on your back. Your lower legs are propped up by pillows, and a violent shiver rocks through you.

"Ah, here you are," Taehyung says, and you turn to find him sitting on the floor beside you. His kind, disarming smile returns as he says, "You fainted, buttercup. How are you feeling?"

Sweat covers you from head to toe, making you cold and clammy and uncomfortable. "Shitty," you reply.

"Hmm, yes, fainting takes a toll on the entire body. But at least you are shitty and alert." Taehyung holds up three fingers. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Your voice is rough as you croak, "Three."

"Very good," Taehyung responds, reaching to give your cheek a tiny pinch, which you attempt to flinch away from.

It occurs to you only now that you neither see nor hear Namjoon. When you look around for him, Taehyung softly clears his throat, pulling your attention back to find him frowning.

"They left the room."

"They…" you begin, watching as Taehyung tongues the inside of his mouth.

"Namjoon seems to think you don't want to see Yoongi. And Yoongi…well, he's not too pleased."

"Oh."

Taehyung sits up a little higher on his knees, and in a rare moment of uncertainty, he knits his brow. "What I mean to say is, his feelings were hurt. But he isn't angry."

"No, no," you mutter, rolling onto your side and pulling your knees as high as they can go. "I get it."

"The thing is," Taehyung continues, "Yoongi has to leave town for a little while."

At this, you flinch, attempting to quickly sit up. "Wait, where? For how long?"

"He didn't say."

Although you know Yoongi is not present in this room, you look around and ask, "Has he left already?"

Taehyung frowns once more. "I'm not sure, but I don't think so."

Everything is happening too quickly, and you brace yourself to get your bearings and steady your pounding heart as you slowly stand from the couch onto your feet. Taehyung raises and holds his hands out as an offer to assist, should you need it.

"You good?" he asks, and although you do not feel a modicum of anything you would consider good, you nod and slowly turn toward the door.

And then you run. Your feet are sweaty and they slide against the floor, but you push forward as hard as you can, ignoring the whorl of nausea in your guts. Once at the door, you shove at it with all your strength, and when it flies open, revealing Yoongi and Namjoon standing close, muttering sweetly, you gasp; you were not expecting to find the two of them this easily.

Namjoon stands to the left, gently cradling Yoongi's chin with both hands, and Yoongi stares up at him, hands lifted to Namjoon's sides. In contrast to Namjoon's more casual attire, Yoongi is in his usual black button-up and black slacks.

You mutter, "Yoo—" and halt in place when he turns his attention to you, smile faltering as his one visible eye holds you in its gaze.

Although Yoongi's hair is down and wild, you can see the black eyepatch covering his other eye. Above the patch are little black stitches that rise up to his forehead, and you worry you might faint once more.

"Darling," Yoongi says, dropping his arms from Namjoon's sides to fully face you.

Namjoon's hands only fall to Yoongi's shoulders, and the look he gives you is indiscernible and a little cold. You feel childish and small standing before them in Hoseok's pajamas, which are a little too big.

"I'm sorry," is all you can say as your right leg twitches in an attempt to continue forward, held back by the full-body weight of your fear.

"I'm so glad you're awake," Yoongi says as he smiles. The ends of his mouth flinch twice, and you wonder just how forced his smile is. "Taehyung said you fainted."

You hum and nod in quick, shallow movements. All you want to do, in this moment, is run. Run toward Yoongi, but also run far, far away, and never look back—run and run until your lungs threaten to explode. But you stand paralyzed in the doorway of Yoongi's bedroom, staring at the two men who seem intent on keeping their distance.

"Where are you going?" you manage to ask, swallowing a ball of saliva and anxiety.

Yoongi hesitates, and as Namjoon drops his arms from his shoulders, Yoongi straightens his posture and slides his hands into the pockets of his slacks.

When was the last time Yoongi has held this much distance? When has Yoongi been this reserved and shut away? You regret not wanting to see him before, and now that he is holding so much space between the two of you, you cannot, for the life of you, move your feet forward.

"I have important business," Yoongi simply says, licking his lips and saying no more.

"Ah—are you…will you be gone long?" you try, chest trembling and terrified.

Yoongi merely shrugs. "Hard to say."

"Oh."

Yoongi stares a moment longer, back tall and straight and hands tucked away. The hair on the left side of his face falls slightly over his eye, encasing the eyepatch in a dark shadow, making him appear far more dangerous than he already is.

And then, as if a switch is flipped, his shoulders relax, his smile softens, and he pulls his hands from his pockets. You let out a deep, shaky exhale and silently beg him to step toward you.

"I'll miss you," you try, knitting your brows in desperation.

Yoongi smiles widely and finally takes a step. "I will miss you, as well," he says as he closes the distance, and all at once, your legs turn to gelatin and wobble beneath you before stepping forward.

You all but throw yourself into Yoongi's embrace, body sagging and crashing into him as he wraps his arms around you, pinning yours uselessly to your sides. Yoongi's musk is strong and overwhelming, and you nuzzle against his chest and neck, breathing deeply enough to choke on it.

"I'm sorry," you mutter into him, feeling tears well once more. "I'm so sorry, Yoongi."

Yoongi whispers, "Shhh," as his hands rub over your back, and you lift your hands just enough to let your fingers catch at the fabric around his hips.

"I'm sorry I have to leave so abruptly," Yoongi says, "but the guys here will take good care of you. I shouldn't be long."

"Please be safe," you beg, horrified of what could happen to him while he is away.

"I have a team coming along to look after me," Yoongi says. "But I can assure you, I will be fine. I can't say much for now, but I will be meeting with the Hong Kong crew, and we will be working on a deal of sorts so that an attack like that will not happen again."

"A deal? In…in Hong Kong?"

Yoongi releases the hug and takes a small step back, then lifts one hand to the bottom of your chin. Looking up into his one eye makes your heart squeeze, but even with an eyepatch covering the other, he is the prettiest man alive.

"Please don't beat yourself up with worry while I'm away," he mutters sweetly. "I'm not upset with you. Had I gotten to that man before you, I would have done far worse to him for hurting one of my best friends. And besides," Yoongi chuckles softly, tilting his head to the side, "this is going to make for an amazing story when Jimin wakes up."

"Stop," you grumble, lifting your hands to shove at Yoongi's sides, but not hard enough to make him do more than sway.

"You are so brave," Yoongi says, smile widening. "You shot that man right between the eyes. And I know it had to have been traumatic and horrendous, but I'm still proud of you."

As it stands, watching the man who hurt Jimin die by your bullet is so low on the list of traumatic events that play through your mind. Perhaps you have compartmentalized the event, and once the dust settles and Jimin wakes back up, you will begin to fully process the weight of the event. Or, perhaps you are already becoming as numb to being a killer as the rest of the family.

"Did it hurt?" you ask, feeling the urge to lift the patch and see his wound.

Yoongi shrugs. "Nah, my adrenaline was so high, I didn't feel a thing. I had no idea I was cut until the blood began to cloud my vision."

The thought of Yoongi's beautiful face dripping with blood makes your stomach churn, and you mutter, "Oh my god."

"It only hurt a little while Tae was stitching me up."

"Why the eyepatch?" you ask, despite feeling nervous to know the answer. But you were told that Yoongi's vision had not been altered.

"Taehyung felt that the stitches along my eyebrow and lid would heal faster if my eye remained closed as often as possible."

Again, your stomach tosses. Did he say lid? As in his eyelid?

"Oh."

"And it makes me look cool, right?" Yoongi adds, waggling his one good eye, making you laugh despite how sad the entire situation feels. "Don't worry, darling. I couldn't dream of being upset with you two."

You exhale deeply and wrap your arms around Yoongi's ribs, throwing yourself once more into his chest. Yoongi chuckles deeply and drapes his arms over you, cradling your head and shoulder gently in his large, warm, familiar hands.

"I won't be gone long," Yoongi insists, pressing a kiss against your temple. "But I will miss you deeply while I am away. So please text me as much as you want to, alright?"

"Alright," you respond, feeling tears build once more. Yoongi insists he will return safely but you fear for the worst; how could you not?

"Seokjin and Hoseok will be coming with me, which leaves Namjoon, Taehyung, and Jeongguk here with you. We have shut down Paradise for the time being, and there will be a strong security detail on the property, but don't feel like you have to stay cooped up inside. The streets of Seoul are safe."

"Hmm," you utter, finding it hard to believe him. But you do not press him. Yoongi said he would reveal more about what deal he has struck once he returns home.

A single-note ringtone chimes loudly, and Yoongi lets out a deep sigh, wrapping his arms tightly around you.

"That's Seokjin," Namjoon says, and you remember that Namjoon has been standing here the entire time, causing guilt to pang within your guts.

"Time to go," Yoongi mutters sadly against your temple, attempting to pull from the hug, only for you to squeeze tighter. Yoongi chuckles as he adds, "I'll be home before you know it."

"I miss you," you complain, overwhelmed with sadness. You are so sick and fucking tired of crying, but more than that, you are tired of missing Yoongi.

This time, when Yoongi pulls away, you allow it, tilting your head to slot your lips together. Yoongi holds steady against you, kissing slow and sweet and only skirting his tongue across your bottom lip after several long, warm seconds. You sigh, dropping your mouth open, but Yoongi kisses your temple and backs up further, giving your arms a squeeze before releasing you.

"I love you, darling," he says, and your heart sinks as you all but whisper, "I love you, too."

Yoongi spins on his feet and takes two steps to Namjoon, giving him a chaste kiss and muttering something deep and indiscernible. Namjoon responds with, "Of course, baby," and then Yoongi leaves, taking the steps two at a time without turning back.

Something feels off, but you are too exhausted to dwell on it, so you turn your attention to the man who is still around, stepping forward and reaching for him. Only Namjoon takes a step back, halting your movements as he clears his throat and runs a hand through his hair.

"Sorry," he says, eyes on the floor and not on you. "I just need a moment. I'll be back."

Without another word, Namjoon runs down the stairs, and you watch as he disappears around the banister, toward the front door. Your right arm is slightly lifted, hovering near the empty space Namjoon had just occupied.

As the seconds tick by, you struggle to fully comprehend what is happening. Clearly, both Yoongi and Namjoon are upset about something, whether that upset is directed at you or not, and they are not doing the best job of convincing you that things are fine. And, truth be told, you do not need everything to be completely fine. But you expect them to be honest with you, or at the very least, to not shut you out.

Your hand drops to your side, and you spin on the balls of your feet, listlessly allowing your arms to fan out in the motion, making your way back to Yoongi's bedroom. Rather than return to Taehyung and Princess Mononoke, you hang a left toward the large window that overlooks the front driveway.

Standing forehead to forehead, Namjoon's face is angled just slightly, looking down at Yoongi, whose expression is somewhat unreadable with his eyepatch. He appears to be smiling as they kiss, and the urge to cry increases. You remind yourself that the two of them share a past and that they deserve tender moments without your presence, despite how badly you wish to be included.

"Everything alright?" Taehyung calls, and you sniffle, blinking away the tears that threaten to break.

As you turn to face him, you take a deep, fortifying breath and nod, doing your best to smile. Your had been balling your fists inside the long sleeves of the pajama shirt, and you open and close them, wiggling your fingers as if attempting to release tension from your limbs.

"I guess so," you admit, not fully willing to say yes or no.

"I imagine Namjoon is trying to convince Yoongi that he should go along," Taehyung says. "He always does."

"Ah," you respond; that does make sense.

"The two of them used to be inseparable and now Namjoon seems to get separation anxiety easily."

You begin to return to the couch, feeling somewhat lighter. Of course, Namjoon would want to join Yoongi on whatever this trip is; it sounds like it might be a big deal. "He should go."

Taehyung hums and regards you quietly, then pats the cushion where you had been previously sitting before he returns to watching the movie. With a little more pep in your step, you join him, plopping down on the couch as you sigh and swing your legs up to the left so you can lean your head against his shoulder.

Although you watch the screen, nothing fully registers. Only Taehyung's warmth and gentle musk hit your senses and linger. Briefly, you even close your eyes.

Outside, vehicle doors shut, and the metal gate scrapes open. Moments later, two heavy feet stomp up the stairs and into the bedroom. You keep your head on Taehyung's shoulder but open your eyes, watching a confrontation between the two lead characters on screen while Namjoon comes into view in your periphery.

"Mind if I join you?" Namjoon asks, and you shrug, offering a brief smile while you say, "Sure."

Namjoon walks in front of the television, rounding the small wooden table in front of the sofa, then plops down at Taehyung's right. Although you keep your eyes ahead, gaze barely on the actual movie, you can see and feel Taehyung lifting his arm and shifting his legs to accommodate Namjoon curling up to his side.

"How did I get stuck with the children?" he teases as his left arm gently wraps around your hip.

You smile, unable to hold back a little chuckle. "Pure luck, obviously."

"What's the other child up to, today?" Namjoon asks.

Taehyung asks, "Jeongguk?" and Namjoon hums.

"He's become obsessed with working out again."

"He doesn't wanna join us?" Namjoon asks.

Taehyung sighs. "He likely will eventually, but I think he's struggling to deal with everything that has happened. With Jimin in a coma and Paradise temporarily closed, he feels directionless. And, of course, he worries about Jimin." Taehyung squeezes your side as he adds, "He also feels guilty for taking his anger out on you that night."

Jeongguk undoubtedly did appear angry, but considering the circumstances, you can hardly say you blame him. You suppose you are willing to accept that Jeongguk may not be upset with you.

"I get it," you mutter, letting your gaze drop to the wall below the television. "I don't think any of us were in our right minds."

Seconds pass, then Taehyung quietly adds, "He will be very happy to know how you feel."

As the three of you sit and watch the film, your eyelids grow heavy, and it takes almost no time at all for you to fall back asleep.

The events of last night play in your mind once more, and as soon as the man's head explodes from Hoseok's shotgun shell, you flinch awake, gasping for air. As the room comes into focus, you realize you are lying on the large sofa with Namjoon, who is behind you with his head propped up onto his hand, watching television. You sigh into wakefulness, heavy-blinking and yawning, and Namjoon pauses whatever drama he has put on and gently wraps an arm over your hip.

"Hey, sweetheart," he says just above your ear, and you groan as you stretch your legs out, then begin to wiggle around until you are facing him.

Namjoon still wears the black tee, and you reach up and gently trace along the exposed skin of his bicep with your fingertips, playing with the hem of his sleeve.

"What time is it?" you ask, staring up into Namjoon's warm, dark eyes.

"Evening," he responds, leaning to place a kiss on your forehead. "You knocked out."

"Did Taehyung go home?"

Namjoon nods, humming, "Mmhmm. Christopher wanted to meet with him, and check in on Jeongguk."

"Surprised I slept that long," you grumble, feeling another yawn work its way through your chest. "I keep dreaming about last night."

"Taehyung mentioned he would speak with Christopher about sleep aids. I am always happy to supply Xanax if needed."

Although you are unsure whether you want to create a dependence on Xanax to get you through the night, the prospect of getting restful, dreamless sleep is wonderful.

"That would be nice," you say, burying your face against Namjoon's chest.

You half expect Namjoon to continue watching his show, but silence hangs as he settles his head down onto a pillow and wraps both arms around you with the bottom one sliding under your neck.

"Sorry if I seemed a little cold earlier," Namjoon finally says. "Letting Yoongi leave on his own when we are in the midst of a showdown between both families is just…a lot. I know he's a grown adult and can take care of himself, but I also hate not being able to be there."

Just as Taehyung had said.

"Why didn't you go with him?"

Namjoon seems to hesitate and then says, “He asked me to stay with you.”

“Oh.”

“I don't mean to suggest that I don’t want to be here with you,” Namjoon adds quickly, and although you believe him, it is clear that he would rather be by Yoongi’s side.

“I get it,” you say, feeling no need for Namjoon to explain himself. “But you could have gone with him,” you add, feeling Namjoon stiffen.

The air feels tense and awkward, but you make no move to give either of you space. Even if Namjoon would rather be comforting Yoongi, you still crave his warmth.

“I guess what I mean to say,” you continue, “is that I have the others here, too. Of course, nobody compares to you and Yoongi, but if you need to be by his side, I’m happy here with Taehyung and Jeongguk. Don’t feel obligated to babysit me.”

Namjoon scoots back, and you look up to find a somewhat angry, sad expression on his face. "Why would you say it like that?"

Without thinking, you roll your eyes, watching as his eyes go wider before you add, "You know what I meant."

"You think that the only reason I am here is because I feel the need to coddle you?"

Your patience is wearing thin, and despite finally getting a little sleep, you feel far too tired to be bickering with him over something like this.

"Namjoon—"

"No, don't Namjoon me. I'm not your fucking babysitter, I'm your partner. I'm here with you because I enjoy being with you."

"You're here with me because Yoongi asked you to be," you clarify, speaking from his earlier words. "Which is fine, I don't mind that being the case. But if you're going to be miserable with worry, you may as well have joined him."

Namjoon sighs and begins to pull away entirely in an attempt to sit up. Feeling resolved, you slightly roll away, giving him space to do so. You are not, however, willing to let him walk away before you are done speaking your mind.

"It's fine if you want to go with him, and I don't understand why you chose not to. You and Yoongi have a history, and I get that. Not everything you do will include me."

Namjoon sits sideways with his legs outstretched because you have not bothered to move in any way that will actually allow him to escape easily. You prop your head up on your hand with your elbow bent against the pillow and watch as Namjoon's expression oscillates from frustrated to contemplative.

Finally, Namjoon speaks up, voice sounding small as he says, "If you don't want me around, just say so."

At this you huff, drop your hand and head to the pillow, and begin to roll away, letting your leg drape over the edge of the couch before you steady yourself enough to sit up. Namjoon has not moved, and you are in no mood to face him. It feels like anything you say will be bent to suit whatever this emotional streak of Namjoon's is, and you do not have the energy to play along.

But then petulance rises, and you stare at the dark blue fabric of the sofa beneath you as you say, "I wanted you around last night. And Yoongi. But I was shut out, and now he's gone."

"Sweetheart—" Namjoon begins, and you shove what is left of the cream-colored blanket that covers your legs, eager to get it the fuck off you as you stand and disregard him.

"I don't want to talk anymore," you grumble as you make your way to the ensuite.

You never bothered to wash your face or tend to your hair after last night, and you decide in this moment that you would like to shower. For all you know, the blood of some unknown dead man could be on you.

To your surprise, Namjoon says nothing. You don't bother closing the door behind you as you begin to strip from your borrowed black pajamas and find a fluffy white towel which you hang on a hook beside the shower door. Not bothering to close this door either, you walk to the back wall of the shower and turn it on, feeling a cold blast of water that quickly turns scathing hot before you turn the nob and make it a more reasonable hot.

Although your movements are slow, you take care of your hair and wash your body, standing still periodically with your face tilted up to let the water rinse over you. You know that whatever this tiff you have with Namjoon is, you will need to talk about it at some point. You just wish that things could be calm and easy, in the meantime. After last night, you desperately need things to be calm and easy.

Finally, when you are just about to shut the water off and get out, you hear a belt buckle hitting the tile floor, followed by a quieter sound of a soft garment being dropped alongside it. Your pulse quickens, but you do your best to seem unaffected by Namjoon's presence—at least until you are able to gauge what kind of a mood he is in.

"Mind if I join you?" Namjoon asks, voice soft and calm—deep.

You turn just enough to find him standing in the doorway nude, and you rove your eyes down past his pecs and tummy—along the curves and scales of his dragon tattoo—to his glorious thighs and the thick cock that hangs heavy between them.

"Be my guest," you respond with a shrug, feigning nonchalance as you turn back to the stream of water.

Namjoon enters and begins to wash his hair. He uses the tangerine shampoo that reminds you of Yoongi, then he slathers a cloth with the same citrus floral soap that also reminds you of Yoongi. You have no reason to linger in the shower, but Namjoon is close, the steam filling the room leaves you a bit dizzy, and you are touch-starved.

"Baby," you mutter, turning to lean your back against the cool tile wall and get out of the hot stream of water.

Namjoon is washing his legs, bent in half, and he looks up with wide eyes. There are so many things you want to say and ask for and command, but all that falls from your lips is, "I miss you."

Namjoon cracks a smile, then he bends further to finish washing his ankles and one foot after the other. And then he straightens out, chucks the cloth to the side, and steps forward, into the stream of water, pausing a moment to rinse.

"I miss you, too," he says with his eyes closed and face tilted up against the stream, rubbing his hands over his hair and causing a waterfall of suds to cascade over him.

Feeling overcome with emotion and resolved to put whatever transpired earlier behind you, for the sake of your sanity if nothing more, you reach out toward Namjoon, who is close enough that you are able to graze your fingertips over his tummy.

"Let's just…not argue, okay?" you practically plead. "We've both been through a lot. We need each other."

Namjoon continues to rinse off a moment longer, then he steps through the stream and looms over you, dripping wet with a blazing fire in his dark eyes. His voice is deep and insistent as he says, "You have me, sweetheart."

"Dizzy," you mutter, reaching to trace your fingertips listlessly over his skin. "Let's get out."

Namjoon nods and shuts the water off, then he leans in close and presses his body against yours, capturing your lips with his. When was the last time you and Namjoon kissed? It feels like a lifetime ago, despite it probably only being last night, and you sigh into the feeling, overcome with a surge of affection.

His movements are languid and firm, pressing and claiming but in no hurry. You grab Namjoon's ribs with both palms and gently squeeze at his skin and muscle, rubbing slowly, allowing your eyes to flutter closed.

As soon as all you see is darkness, the images return in quick, nauseating succession. A man's head explodes from Hoseok's shotgun shell and another from your bullets, turning into red and brown and greyish-pink mush against concrete. Blood seeps from between Yoongi's fingers, and you gasp, opening your eyes and mouth wide as your hands hover at Namjoon's sides.

"Sweetheart—"

"I'm sorry," you sob, hot tears pouring from your eyes as the black and gold bathroom returns to view and Namjoon's dripping wet honey skin greets you. "I can't—every time I close my eyes, I see—I'm sorry."

"Shhh," Namjoon whispers, wrapping his arms around your head and shoulders and pulling you close, engulfing you in wet warmth. "It's okay, don't apologize."

"I feel like I'm going insane. I can't keep reliving this."

"Want me to call Christopher?"

You nod as you sob, holding Namjoon close and doing your best to keep your eyes open.

"Let's get out of here and put some clean clothes on."

Namjoon's hands slowly caress over your back and shoulders, and you allow yourself to breathe into the feeling and relax. You have tensed up so much that your shoulders are raised high, and you inhale deeply, attempting to calm your nerves and work up the energy to leave the bathroom.

"Okay," you finally breathe, sniffling and taking deep, slow breaths. "Yeah, let's go."

Slowly, steadily, you are able to leave the shower with one of Namjoon's arms holding firmly around your waist. He towels you off, kneeling on the rug and tile floor, making sure to get every last drop, and then he wraps his clean towel over your shoulders and uses yours to very quickly dry himself.

His phone is sitting on the countertop beside the sink, and he picks it up, thumbs around for a moment, and then takes your hand to lead you out into the bedroom and into Yoongi's closet. By the time the two of you are dressed, the doorbell rings.

"I'm going to go answer that," Namjoon says, turning his body fully toward you and taking your hands in his. His thumbs rub over your knuckles, and although you mostly feel emotionally drained, his touch is nice. "Do you want to meet on the couch in here, or the one downstairs?"

"In here," you respond automatically, disinterested in fussing with the stairs or sitting in the huge, empty main hall of Yoongi's home.

"Alright," Namjoon says. "Go have a seat and we'll be right back."

The world tilts ever so slightly as you move from the closet to the couch. The cream-colored blanket hangs halfway to the floor, and you bend to lift it and drape it over your legs, holding it close to your chest once you sit. Perhaps this is an unprofessional way to meet with the family psychiatrist, but you care more about your comfort than his, if you are being honest.

Moments later, a man dressed in family blacks enters the room with a bow, greeting you warmly. Although Namjoon enters with him, he leaves almost instantly, insisting that he will be right outside if anyone needs him.

You feel nervous to talk to Christopher, but he has a kind smile and soft giggle, and he speaks with an accented lilt that reminds you of Felix, instantly easing you into conversation. And even though you are nervous about this process and what it may entail, you do your best, if only for the sake of getting some goddamn sleeping pills.

Kitten: Landed in Hong Kong. How is my darling?

You: I miss you a lot. It feels like I hardly saw you before you left.

Kitten: I know, and I'm sorry for that. But I will be home in a few days.

You: I look forward to it. I spoke to Christopher earlier and he recommended an antidepressant to help me sleep.

Kitten: Have you been having nightmares?

You: Yeah, he says it's PTSD. It's been really bad. Even when I close my eyes while fully awake, I see flashes of what happened. I just want to stop remembering.

Kitten: I know what you mean. I'm glad you are taking healthier steps toward blocking those memories than I have, in the past.

You: Yeah, well, I have Namjoon's Xanax supply on standby, just in case.

Kitten: Good, good. Is Namjoon there? I want to give him a call. I would like to hear your voice, too.

You: He's here, watching over my shoulder like a needy little hawk. Please call before he drives me insane.

Kitten: :] Will do, darling. Just give me a few minutes.

You are in Seungri's penthouse once again, only as soon as you get into his bedroom with the glass of whiskey in hand, it is Yoongi who slaps you across the face and commands you to get undressed.

Your empty hand twitches above your thigh, itching to grab for the switchblade, and Yoongi's hand lingers over your cheek, thumb pulling down on your lip.

“Have I said something to anger you?” you ask, and Yoongi laughs as he drops his hand to his side.

“You no longer fear me,” he drawls as he turns back to his drink and grabs onto the glass with his lithe, pretty fingers, repeating the words Seungri once said. “Used to be I could put a little scare into you, but now you stand your ground. I like that about you.”

Yoongi skips all the chit-chat that Seungri usually dives into and instead downs his drink and begins to undress. His scars shine brightly when hit by the golden light of the room—his bedroom—and you undress without removing the blade from your thigh or trying to conceal it at all.

“What a pretty girl,” Yoongi mutters as he approaches.

You step aside and pat the bed—Yoongi's bed—with your hand, purring, “Hop up, sir.”

Yoongi is hard and leaking, cock pointing to the heavens as he settles against his black and gold comforter, and you get up onto the bed and seat yourself in one swift movement, pressing him so deep into you that a shiver works its way along your spine.

Slowly, you rock your hips, reaching with both hands to drag your fingertips over the scars closest to his heart. "Pretty," you moan as your blunt fingernails turn sharp as talons and catch on the raised skin.

Then, in a flash, you reach up and slash over Yoongi's eye, quick as a serpent and sharp as glass. Yoongi groans and writhes beneath you, and you—somehow holding your switchblade—continue to fuck him hard and fast while you press the tip of the blade deep into his skin and drag it down over his eyelid, to the apple of his pretty cheek.

"Mine," you snarl like a beast, thumbing over the pooled blood and smearing it over his face, watching as it mats in his hair. "Forever mine."

You wake up gasping, covered in sweat and stuck in place under warm, heavy limbs. It is still dark outside, and as you pant and attempt to sit up, Namjoon groans and slowly twists away, removing the weight that holds you down.

"Fuck," you mutter, frustrated. You had taken one of the pills Christopher prescribed and it made you somewhat loopy and very tired—a promising prospect, at the time.

Namjoon lifts an arm and points to the bedside table to your left, grumbling something incomprehensible before his breathing returns to light snores, and you turn to find two boxes sitting next to a tall glass of water. First, you grab your box of medication and put it back. Then you grab the other, made out to Namjoon, and you pull out a packet and rip it open, freeing one large white pill and gulping it down with a mouthful of water.

Rather than lying back down to sleep, you roll back toward Namjoon and begin to shimmy down into the sheet, yanking his legs to spread and crawling between them. You can still feel Yoongi inside you from the dream, and you want Namjoon in your mouth now, before you lose your mind.

Namjoon hums and yawns as you paw at his semi-soft cock, and once he cracks an eye open and moans his consent, you yank his briefs away and swallow him down into your throat, eagerly sucking and stretching your lips, moaning and humming as he trembles and groans beneath you.

With eager hands, Namjoon yanks at your shirt, pulling it over your head and tossing it aside before gripping at your shoulders and arms in what feels like an attempt to get you to stop sucking his cock.

"Fuck me," he begs, and you do as you are told, grinning with drool-slick lips as you crawl and crash into him, needing to be held up while you angle his tip just right and begin to fuck yourself on him.

The stretch is so intense, you shiver and fall forward, palms sliding against his sweat-slicked chest and gripping onto the pillow beside his head. Namjoon takes your hips in both hands and begins to fuck upward, holding you in place to use as you bob and moan like a marionette built only for pleasure.

Namjoon changes positions and holds you tight, fucking you from behind while you lie half on your back and half on your side. By the time you cum, you are dizzy and sinking deep into a drug-induced fog, lulled by the feeling of lips and warm breath against your neck.

"Don't stop," you mutter as you slip from consciousness, just as eager for Namjoon to cum but unable to hold on and see to it that he does. Although you think his movements have halted and he has repositioned you to rest against his chest, you could also be imagining it as everything fades to black.

"I wonder how Jeongguk is doing," you mutter, holding your steaming cup of tea to your lips and staring out the bedroom's back window. Namjoon has purchased two new chairs that match the couch because last night, you said you wanted to be able to look out at the gardens.

"Ask him," Namjoon responds somewhat flatly.

When you look at Namjoon, his brow is knit, and he stares out the window as if he is looking at nothing. He spaces out like this from time to time, and although you are curious about what is on his mind, you feel a bit too disconnected to ask. The antidepressants work wonders for your anxiety and post-traumatic stress symptoms, but they are also anti many other things, including happiness and concern. Christopher insists you need a few weeks to a month to adjust.

"Fine," you respond with a sigh, disinterested in talking to Namjoon if he is going to be so short with you.

You pick up your phone, which you keep nearby at all times in case Yoongi reaches out, and you dial Jeongguk's number. The last time the two of you spoke was the night you sliced your boyfriend's pretty face open, and although you are somewhat nervous to hear his voice, you try not to overthink it.

Jeongguk picks up on the second ring, and you can hear him panting as he says, "Doll. Hey."

"Hi," you respond, swallowing thickly. Suddenly, your mouth feels really dry. "Am I interrupting anything?"

There is a pause, and you hear the bubbling sound of him drinking from a water bottle, followed by a low Ahhh. "Nah, just working out. But I could take a break. Do you need something?"

"No," you clear your throat and sit up, repositioning your legs on the large blue chair. To your right, Namjoon sighs and gets up. "I just wanted to see how you were doing. We haven't spoken since the—"

"Right," Jeongguk interrupts, voice low and rough. "Listen, I'm sorry for—"

Disinterested in apologies, you mutter, "No, it's fine. I get it."

Silence hangs. You want to see Jeongguk again. You want to ask him to come over, maybe ask whether he would like to take a walk through the garden or drive into town for some ice cream. You miss his smell and the way his eyes brighten up like tiny galaxies when he smiles nice and big.

"Do you—" you begin just as Jeongguk says, "Hey, so, I was thinking—" and you both stop, chuckling and waiting for the other to speak.

"Go ahead," you urge him.

Jeongguk hesitates, then says, "I don't even know. If I finish that sentence, I will probably regret it the moment the words come out of my mouth."

You glance over your shoulder when you hear the sound of a belt being buckled and find Namjoon getting dressed in blue jeans and a tan sweatshirt near the closet. He keeps his eyes down as he shoves his hands into his pockets, and does not say a word as he turns and leaves the room.

"Just tell me," you respond, eyes on Namjoon's retreating form.

"I was going to say that I think we should spend some time apart," Jeongguk says, voice sounding somewhat sad.

Your chest clenches, and you feel the air sucked from your lungs, returning your gaze to the window. "Oh."

"But even as I say it, I don't believe it. I would sprint over and see you right now if you asked me to. I miss you all the time."

This makes you feel shy, and you nibble your lip. "It's only been a couple days."

"A couple of really shitty days," Jeongguk responds, to which you scoff. "This isn't a conversation to have over the phone, but, I don't know, I guess I just wanted to say what you did when Jimin was injured…it was pretty incredible. And mildly horrifying. And really fucking sexy. All accidents aside."

This makes you laugh, and you stare out the window, at the familiar statues, fountains, and trees. You think about how easy it would be for Jeongguk to come see you, and you almost beg him to.

"I miss you too," you finally say, feeling a lightness in your chest that hasn't been there for days. "I wasn't planning on telling you that, because I didn't want to inflate your ego, but that is the reason I called."

"Come see me tomorrow?" Jeongguk asks, voice high and hopeful.

"What happened to spending time apart?" you tease.

Jeongguk chuckles. "I told you my conviction is shit. I fucking miss you, alright. Don't make me say it again."

You would love to see Jeongguk. "Alright. Any particular time?"

"Nah," he responds easily. "Whenever you feel like it."

"Okay."

The deep, sultry tone you know all too well returns when he says, "Wear something slutty," and your cheeks warm instantly.

"Jeon Jeongguk!"

"Come on, doll. It's been almost a fucking week. I need that pussy."

How easily Jeongguk cycles through his moods gives you whiplash, and you shake your head, chuckling quietly. "Forget I said I miss you. I take it all back."

"Nah," he teases, "you miss me."

With a sigh and a smile, you mutter, "Thank you," feeling a fuzzy warmth in your chest.

You think you hear Jeongguk scoff. "For what?"

Namjoon comes into view outside, walking along the rightmost garden path. His steps are slow and meandering, legs swinging and kicking at gravel, and his left hand is in his jeans pocket while he holds his phone to his ear with his right hand.

"For making me smile," you respond, feeling a sadness that is hard to pinpoint as you watch Namjoon. "It hasn't been easy."

"Namjoon hyung not keeping you company?"

Namjoon turns to the left and crouches down in front of a rosebush, tilting his head and smiling as he speaks into the phone. It is a smile that reaches his eyes and, even from afar, the prettiest you have seen in days.

"Nah," you sigh. "Namjoon's in his emo era. I think he regrets staying with me while Yoongi is away."

"Don't put it that way," Jeongguk interjects, and you are quick to say, "I get it. It's fine. I can't have the same history they do, especially not overnight. But it's hard, you know? We both have this gaping wound from missing the same person—worrying over the same person. And instead of turning to one another for peace, we're growing sick of each other."

"There is no way in hell the Kim Namjoon I know is sick of you; he loves the shit out of you. But the love he has for Yoongi is going to be a little different. I have definitely seen the way he shuts down when forced to worry from a distance."

You hum, watching as Namjoon glances up to the window. Although you have no idea whether he can see you, you stare back, hoping that he can. And then his eyes squeeze closed as he laughs and spins on his heels, making his way toward the hedge maze.

"I miss him and I spend every day at his side."

Jeongguk hums. "I'm sure he misses you, too."

"I started medication, too," you continue, rambling somewhat because it is nice to have someone to talk to. "And it's been great to stop feeling so anxious all the time, but I also feel kind of numb."

"How's your sex drive?"

You scoff, shaking your head. "God, why is that your first concern?"

Jeongguk laughs. "Look, I've heard that it can be a side effect!"

"You're so fucking annoying."

"Well?"

"I don't know," you respond somewhat petulantly. "I guess I have an okay sex drive, but it's hard to gauge when the person I would be having sex with is being so distant."

"Fair. Well, we'll have to test it tomorrow if you're up for it."

Another scoff rocks through your chest, and you shake your head at his audacity. "Fine. If I'm up for it, we'll test it."

"Good."

With a sigh, you decide you have nothing more to talk about. You still don't really know Jeongguk very well in terms of his hobbies or interests, and you have no clue what else you could discuss casually as friends. "I'm going to let you go. Maybe I'll see what my emo Joon is doing in the garden."

"Sounds good," Jeongguk says. "Call me whenever you're up for it, and come by tomorrow if you want to."

"Okay," you smile, biting your lip. "I will."

You: I took a nap today and dreamt Namjoon became a forest sprite, and that he lived in a big, sturdy tree. These medications make my dreams super vivid and strange.

Kitten: That sounds like our Namjoon! :] What about the nightmares? Are they helping with that?

You: For the most part. But sometimes one sneaks in.

Kitten: Well, I'm glad you are finding at least a little relief, darling.

You: Talk soon? I miss your voice.

Kitten: I'll call tonight.

Namjoon gives up trying to get you to do anything for the rest of the night, frustrated by how intent you are on keeping your phone clenched in your hand with the ringer turned high. You check the screen periodically to see what time it is, and eventually fall asleep on the couch, clutching your phone to your chest, waiting for Yoongi to call.

When the morning comes, you wake up and check your phone, feeling an instant surge of sadness from the lack of notification. All you want is to hear his voice for five minutes, but you are afraid to initiate a call in case he is busy. You're afraid of getting in the way or being annoying. So you wait.

You: You never called. :( I hope to hear from you today, if you have time.

"You should try to eat something."

Slowly, your eyes blink from your phone to the bowl of fruit in front of you, to Namjoon. He sits across from you on the bed cross-legged with a wooden tray of breakfast foods between you. You hardly remember him bringing it into the room or sitting in front of it, and you really have no appetite, but you lift a cube of watermelon to your mouth just to appease him.

"Not hungry," you mutter as you wrap your lips around the fruit and bite. It is far too sweet, but it is also refreshing, so you chew and swallow, then reach for another.

Namjoon sighs, making you feel inexplicably worse. "Is it the medication?"

With a shrug, you stare ahead at the various cubes of melon and the plain omelet that has undoubtedly gone cold. "I guess. It's everything."

"Yoongi?"

You hum. "And you. You're distant. It sucks."

"I know," Namjoon responds somberly. "But so are you."

"Yeah."

Slowly, you lift a piece of melon to your mouth, stopping as your phone dings.

Kitten: Sorry, darling. Been busy. Talk soon!

With a frown, you pop the fruit into your mouth, slowly chewing as you type your response.

You: Are you coming home soon?

Then you fall back onto the mattress with your legs bent and feet planted. You should probably let Jeongguk know that you aren't in the mood to hang out today.

You: Namjoon says the meetings are going well and that the deal is looking good. I hope this means you'll be coming home soon.

More than a few days pass in a fog. The medication has you feeling so disoriented some days, that all you do is sleep. And when you sleep you dream.

Sometimes, you are in a library, but it bends and twists and becomes shaped like the many mansions you have spent time in over the years. Men who have used and harmed you in the past are there, always attempting to win you back and claim you for themselves, always chasing you through rows and rows of bookshelves, and you are always searching desperately for Yoongi.

The worst dream that comes is one wherein Yoongi is dead. News breaks that his body has washed up in the Han, and before he can even be buried, Ryujin and Hyungseo are at the front door surrounded by men strapped with guns, pulling heavy suitcases behind them, moving their things into the master bedroom and throwing your belongings out the windows.

But at least you no longer dream about the night Jimin was shot. You no longer watch Yoongi bleed. At least you can be thankful for a little reprieve. If only Yoongi would answer your messages, maybe you would stop worrying so fucking much about him. Maybe you would stop searching endlessly for him.

You barely register Namjoon's face buried between your thighs as you stare at the ceiling, feeling the Xanax sink in deep. Tonight, you want dreamless sleep for a change. You just want to forget about Yoongi, and about everything else.

Namjoon's tongue is skilled and brilliant, but it does not make you cum. You warned him going into this that there was a chance it wouldn't happen, and he happily agreed to try, anyway. As you stare up at the dark ceiling, the vastness of the bedroom feels suffocating. It is too big for three people, much less two. It is especially far too big to be in when you are already feeling lonely.

"Baby, I don't think I'm gonna cum," you groan, reaching for his head and gripping gently with your fingers.

Namjoon's lips and tongue slow and then stop, sucking loudly at your clit and labia before letting you go with a wet smack.

"It's alright," he insists. "Just wanted to try."

Without another word, Namjoon shuffles out from between your legs and lies beside you, turning to face away. You sigh, curve toward Namjoon's back, and grip your pillow tight beneath your head, eager for sleep.

Sitting on the large blue chair by the window, you stare at your phone, trying to decide whether today is the day you finally see your friend. There is no reason to hesitate to call him, and yet, you do.

"I should see what Jeongguk is up to," you mutter, mostly to yourself.

Namjoon sighs and snaps the book in his hands shut, then he turns to you with a frown. "All you do is talk about him, so just go see him, already."

His candor surprises you, and you exhale deeply, feeling a heavy weight pressing on your shoulders. "Are you mad that I want to see him?"

"No. I'm just tired of hearing about it."

He definitely sounds mad.

"Okay," you respond, disappointed. "I won't talk about it anymore."

As you get up from the chair and walk away from the large window and the sunshine it allows in, you have half a mind to go into your room and change into something pretty to go frolic in the gardens by yourself. It has been far too long since you have left the house.

So you pad out into the mezzanine, doing your best to ignore how huge and quiet and empty the mansion feels, and you make your way to your bedroom.

Although it is not your intention, you shove the door closed, slamming it rather loudly. Then you spin on the balls of your feet, walk over to the bed, and fling yourself down onto the yellow and white comforter, deciding a nap sounds good.

You wake up to the sounds of car doors closing outside and the front door opening and shutting, muttering, "Yoongi!" to yourself.

Unsure how or when you managed to get into bed in the master suite, you toss aside your concern and the black and gold comforter and roll out of bed, feet hitting the soft, light blue rug. Although you are in a regrettable state, unsure when you last showered because you can barely keep your days straight anymore, you are undeterred as you run through the master suite, out into the mezzanine, and down the stairs, bare feet slapping against cold marble.

As you fling yourself around the banister and continue toward the main hall, all you see are Namjoon and Seokjin standing in the entrance, and you halt, body swaying forward before tensing.

"Yoongi?" you ask, unable to form a single other coherent thought.

Seokjin smiles sadly and approaches with his hands in his black slack pockets, and you feel nausea hit your guts like a brick. "Can we have a word?" he asks, holding his arm out, hand extended toward the back door.

You glance over your shoulder, feeling uncertain; does he mean to go out by the pool?

"S-sure," you say, willing your feet to move but finding you are unable to as your gaze finds Namjoon, dressed once more in blue jeans and a soft sweater, typing into his phone with a frown.

"Yoongi decided he needed to stay put a little while longer," Seokjin says lowly, still holding his hand out. "Mind if we step outside?"

"Outside," you mutter, nodding your head robotically as you turn and face the back doors. "Yeah, sure. Let's go."

Seokjin takes the lead and approaches the sliding glass door, unlocking it and pulling it open. It is strange to enter the pool area with it empty of an employee, and you step out onto the rough gunite and pad over to the nearest pool beds.

The sun is bright, the birds are chirping, and you feel extremely on edge, finding that every minuscule sight and sound has your shoulders lifting higher and higher toward your ears. So when Seokjin sits before you, pulls a flask from his breast pocket, and hands it over, you quickly take it, drinking from it without bothering to ask what is inside and wincing slightly as bitter, semi-sweet whiskey hits your tongue.

You sigh through the intense flavor as you hand the flask back, asking, "Why didn't he come home?"

Seokjin takes a slow swig and says, "That is a question I am not quite sure I have an answer to. I can only surmise the reason based on the behavior I witnessed him exhibiting during our stay."

"Which is…?" you attempt to lead Seokjin to tell you before you lose your cool. Seokjin is far too calm, sitting in his standard black uniform with his outgrown, dark hair pulled delicately off his forehead.

"Which is that he began quite optimistic, daresay, happy at times, only to self-isolate and become very quiet. We were meant to leave days ago, but he kept stating he wanted to stay and 'figure it out,' whatever that meant. When I decided I could no longer stay, he wished me farewell and refused to explain what was on his mind."

"And the deal?"

Seokjin stares for a moment, then leans forward, offering you the flask, which you take. "Has he told you anything about it?"

You shake your head, lifting the flask toward your lips, pausing to say, "He said he would tell me about it when he came back."

"Hmm, well, then I suppose I can tell you that the meeting went well."

The whiskey is not entirely unwelcoming, but the headiness is somewhat overwhelming. You hand the flask back to Seokjin, waiting for him to continue. He takes a swig and holds the flask in his grasp, resting his hands against his thigh.

"Hyungseo has agreed to a truce, and her group will no longer be bothering any of us. Ryujin has also agreed to the truce, since it is still largely her family in charge, even if she has allowed Hyungseo to take over. As far as the details, well…I would rather let Yoongi explain."

Although this is good news, you feel strange about what Seokjin is telling you. Were Hyungseo and Ryujin in Hong Kong, as well? Could they still be there? When you blurt the questions out, Seokjin snickers and shakes his head.

"The ladies were present for our discussion, but, as far as I know, they both returned home days ago."

You wonder if that could be the reason for Yoongi's sour mood. Perhaps seeing Ryujin still affects him. The prospect makes you feel sick.

"I feel like there is a lot of context I am missing here," you grumble.

"There is," Seokjin responds simply. Then he sits forward, resting his wrists against his knees. "You know, the offer to work for them in Busan stands. In fact, you could be a huge asset for us, since we need someone there making sure they aren't conspiring in spite of our agreement."

"I…don't know," you say.

"Well, give it some thought," Seokjin responds in a chipper tone, taking one more sip from his flask and holding it out for you.

You shake your head and hold your hand up, muttering, "Thanks."

"Seems you could use a bit of a vacation, if I may be so bold as to say so. Six months on the coast might do you some good."

"Just getting accustomed to new medications," you grumble, unsure why you bother telling him any of this, in the first place.

Seokjin hums. "Yes, that process can be a bit disorienting. Try to remember to drink water and eat, even if it suppresses your appetite. We don't need you withering away."

You nod listlessly, barely listening to Seokjin, asking, "Do you think he's coming home soon?" before you can stop yourself.

"Likely," Seokjin responds with a sigh as he stands. "It's hard to say with Yoongi. Once he gets in his head, there is no telling when he will come out."

"And if he doesn't?"

The sun is bright behind Seokjin when you look up at him, and you lift your hand to block the rays from your eyes, squinting.

"If he doesn't come home, then perhaps you and Namjoon will have to go and get him."

If there is anyone in this family willing to get onto a plane and head for Hong Kong at a moment's notice, you are sure it is Namjoon. "Okay," you mutter, dropping your hand and your gaze, feeling tired and a bit empty.

"Take care little wolf cub," Seokjin says as he turns to return inside, and you nod listlessly as you shift around on the pool bed and curl in on yourself, chasing the urge to sleep.

Tonight, even the Xanax does nothing to keep your nightmares at bay, and when you wake up screaming from the sight of the man's head exploding, you find the bed empty, causing your pulse to spike.

You glance around, find the room empty, and then reach for your phone. Your heart sinks when you see a notification from Namjoon and none from Yoongi, and you heavy-blink, thumbing over your bright screen to open and read the text.

Joonbug: Sorry if you wake up and I'm not there. I'm having a hard time sleeping and didn't want to keep you up, so I walked home. I'll be back in the morning. <3 Call me if you need anything.

Truthfully, you find it hard to blame Namjoon. Twice, you startled him with your screaming, and he has been complaining lately about struggling to fall asleep and stay asleep. Plus, he has been seeking a lot more alone time.

You: Woke up screaming again, so you made the right call by leaving.

You half expect Namjoon to already be asleep, noticing it is just before two in the morning. So when he begins to type, you are surprised.

Joonbug: Shit, I'm sorry, sweetheart. Want me to come back?

On one hand, you think it would be nice to have someone around. But on the other hand, you are not sure it is Namjoon's attention that you crave. Although you love him dearly, the two of you seem to be on different planes of existence lately. Ships passing quietly in the night, both emotionally and physically. Spending too much time together right now might do more harm than good.

First, you dial Yoongi. Hearing his voice would do wonders for your emotional state, and he is the first person you want to talk to about what has been on your mind. But the phone rings and rings, and eventually goes to voicemail. "This is Min," the somewhat robotic tone of your boyfriend's voice says—disconnected and not meant solely for you the way you need his voice to sound. "Leave a message."

You hang up and hover your thumbs over your screen, attempting to gather your thoughts. Yoongi is unreachable, and Namjoon is distant, but perhaps Jeongguk is free.

Jeongguk answers on the third ring, "Hey, doll? Late night booty call?"

You graze your teeth over your lip, laughing as you say, "Maybe. Would you be into that?"

A scoff followed by, "Fuck yes I would be!" makes you smile widely. Then he adds, "Lemme just run it by Tae, alright?"

"Of course," you respond, realizing you should probably also discuss it with Namjoon. "Otherwise, we could just…I don't know…get fucked up? Even Xanax isn't cutting these nightmares and I just wanna get out of my head for a while."

"I can definitely help you with that," Jeongguk responds happily. "Lemme text you in just a minute, okay? After I speak with Tae?"

"Sounds good."

Jeongguk hangs up, and you smile to yourself, opening your neglected conversation with Namjoon.

You: Actually, I was thinking about finally hanging out with Jeongguk. Kinda just want to get drunk, maybe get a little high. I need to get out of my head. As long as you don't mind.

Joonbug: Understandable. I hope you don't think you have to ask me for permission. I definitely want you to feel free to go spend time with him and have some fun.

You: If things get a little heated, though…are you okay with that?

Joonbug: If what you need right now is to fuck Jeongguk, I fully support that.

You: Thanks, Joonbug. <3 I love you!

Joonbug: I love you too, sweetheart.

Gguk: Tae is down with whatever we feel like doing. Come to mine? Do you remember how?

You: Joon gave me his blessing, too. :) I think I remember.

Gguk: On second thought, stay put, and I'll come get you. It's dark out.

You: Sounds good. I'll put on something slutty in the meantime.

Gguk: Oh, fuck yeah! Be there soon!

Thankful that you had the energy to shower before your several failed attempts at sleeping earlier, you jump out of bed and run to your bedroom. Hanging amongst the sundresses is a little black satin slip dress with spaghetti straps and lace along the edges, and you peel off Namjoon's oversized dark grey tee and toss it to the floor.

The dress fits snugly, squeezing your breasts and waist, creating inviting curves and cleavage, and you opt not to wear any panties underneath as you marvel at the high slit up your right thigh.

You apply a little eye makeup, both because it feels like it has been a lifetime since you have looked in the mirror and liked what you have seen, but also because you like the thought of it streaking down your face later, should Jeongguk find some delicious reason to make you cry.

Once you are satisfied, you begin to make your way out to the mezzanine, and you are surprised to find Jeongguk standing at the foot of the stairs; you didn't hear him come in.

"Jeongguk," you mutter, feeling your heart pound as his lips pull into a hungry grin. He wears a white tee and black basketball shorts, and his short dark hair is unstyled and a little disheveled. You stare at him, unsure whether he is real. How long has it been since the two of you crossed paths? Far too long.

"Dollface," Jeongguk groans, toying with his lip ring in his teeth. "God damn you look amazing."

As you reach for the railing and begin down the cold marble stairs, you feel a slight tremble in your limbs. Jeongguk watches you like a predator eyeing his prey, and you have forgotten what it feels like to be caught in a stare this hungry.

"How do you feel about doing some molly?" he asks when you are halfway downstairs, and you hesitate, cocking your head to the side.

"I don't know. What does it feel like?"

"Euphoric. Calming. Mixed with coke, it'll really wake you up and make you feel alive."

That does sound good, and you smile. "Alright. I'm down."

"I was thinking we could break into the pool bar and chase it down with some champagne, then walk over to my place?"

"Alright," you respond as you reach the last step, standing at eye level with him.

Jeongguk reaches for your thighs, rubbing his hand up the sides, and you wiggle away in part because his gentle touch tickles, but also to keep him from discovering that you are not wearing any panties. If he finds out this early on, the two of you will never make it back to his place, and you are curious to see how he lives.

As you side-step and scurry down to the landing, Jeongguk complains but obliges, turning on slippered feet and walking ahead to deal with the glass door. You are barefoot, and you tiptoe on the rough ground as Jeongguk makes his way to the bar and opens a mini fridge.

"Bingo," he sing-songs, holding up two bottles of champagne with a wide grin, as if the task took any effort at all. Still, you clap excitedly for him as he rounds the bar with both bottles in hand.

"I bet this dress would look great soaking wet," Jeongguk says, eyeing you once more like a ravenous beast while making his way to the nearest table.

He plops down sideways on one of the pool beds and sets the bottles down, then pats his leg for you to join him. You make your way over and sit gingerly on his knee, keeping your legs closed and avoiding the urge to straddle him while he works one of the bottle corks open.

"Let's keep the dress dry, for now," you bargain, reaching up to rub your fingertips along the undercut just above his ear.

Jeongguk bites his bottom lip while pulling out the cork, and when it comes loose with a loud pop, he opens his mouth wide, then grins. With one hand, he holds up the bottle and fishes into his pocket with the other. Then he pulls out a little clear baggie with six tiny capsules full of purple dust.

"They're pretty small portions, so you can get a feel for it," he says as he hands the baggie to you and you begin to work its tiny plastic zipper open. "If it feels good and you want more, we can take more."

"Okay," you mutter somewhat nervously as you reach out and take a tiny capsule in your fingertips.

"Ahhh," Jeongguk exclaims, and you look up to find his mouth open wide and tongue hanging open.

Although you know he is asking for a pill, you lean in close and lick the length of his tongue nice and slow, marveling at the way his taste buds feel. Then you lift the pill and place it right in the center, watching as he seems to struggle to comprehend what just happened.

With a giggle, you say, "Go on…swallow like a good boy," and Jeongguk takes a long swig from the champagne and then fixes you with a curious gaze.

"Your turn, beautiful," Jeongguk says, making your cheeks blaze. "Be good for me and swallow. Or are you more of a spitter?"

Jeongguk's predictability is a perfect match for how corny he is, but although you roll your eyes, you lean close and ask, "Aren't you eager to find out?"

"Of course I am," he mutters, a hairswidth from your lips, and you turn your head just far enough to the side to pop one of the molly capsules onto your tongue.

Jeongguk lifts the champagne and says, "Open for me, doll," and you tilt your head and part your lips, nervous but excited for him to pour champagne into your mouth.

You expect him to make a mess, so when it spills over past your lips, you simply swallow what has been poured into your mouth and roll with it. Jeongguk licks from your chin to the crease of your lips, making an even wetter mess than the dribbled champagne, and you giggle as you attempt to stand from his lap, only to be held in place.

"Not so fast," he says as he digs through his shorts pocket and holds up his little metal cocaine vial. "It'll take a little bit for the drugs to kick in and I want my senses heightened now."

"Oh?" you ask, cocking your head as you watch him scoop a considerable pile to snort into one nostril, followed by a second pile into the other. Jeongguk sighs and tips his head back, pressing the side of his knuckle against each nostril as he deeply sniffs inward once more, then he fixes you with a wide smile and offers you the cocaine.

You trade him, handing off the little baggie of molly capsules, and in swift movements, you take the little metal vial with a spoon attached to its cap, and you snort a small pile into each nostril, then hand it back. As you press against the side of each nostril with your knuckle and inhale, Jeongguk watches you with eyes already somewhat glazed over, and you stand from his lap, smoothing out your tiny dress.

"Eager to get away from here?" Jeongguk asks, gaze downturned slightly.

With a shrug, you glance around and realize that yes, you really are eager to get away, at least for a little while. "I guess so. I've been cooped up."

"Alright," Jeongguk says, reaching for your hand. You take it, then grab the unopened bottle of champagne in the other. "Let's get out of here."

Jeongguk is careful and meticulous in the way he locks up the back door, then he takes your hand again to walk through the main hall, to the front door. He slides out of Yoongi's slippers and into some sandals, and you put on the pair of black ballet flats.

Once outside, Jeongguk closes and checks the door, then he takes your hand once again and leads you around to the left, toward Seokjin's place. The night is so quiet you hear the sounds of crickets in the trees and the crunch of gravel underfoot.

Jeongguk sighs and squeezes your hand, and you hum questionably, squeezing his back.

"Nothing," he says, turning to look at you. The path opens near Seokjin's home, and the two of you hang a left and continue along the side of the house to the back, where more trees separate each property. "I guess I'm just surprised sometimes."

"By what?" you ask, turning to look at Jeongguk, who turns to meet your gaze. The cocaine buzzes through your system while a nasty little drip can be tasted at the back of your throat.

"By you."

You scoff, feeling somewhat shy. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you did hate me when we first met," Jeongguk begins.

"Because you were an asshole," you add.

"And…I don't know. I was surprised when Yoongi and Namjoon were so open to the idea of us. Even tonight, I expected hyung to say no and keep you all to himself."

"Ah," you mutter, eyes on the ground. You begin to walk between more dark trees, enshrouded by their shadows, and you feel grateful that Jeongguk came to get you so that you wouldn't be walking this path alone. "Namjoon and I have been kind of distant, so I'm not surprised."

"Still?" Jeongguk asks.

"Yeah. Still."

"Damn. That sucks."

It does suck, but you feel awkward talking about it. "It's whatever," you lie. "He wants space and went to his house tonight, which is why I called you. Didn't really want to be alone."

"So I'm second place, wow," Jeongguk teases, squeezing your hand.

"Third when Yoongi is around," you tease back, turning to flash a playful grin.

The rest of the walk is quiet, and when you reach Jeongguk's home, you are a bit surprised by the number of sports cars in his driveway—four, to be exact. His house is a carbon copy of the others, but there is practically no greenery in the yard, only metal workout equipment, including a pull-up bar and some other items that are tough to make out in the dark.

Jeongguk lets go of your hand as you approach the front entrance, and he punches in a long passcode before opening the door wide and nodding for you to enter. The living room light is already on, and as you toe out of your shoes, you find a scarcely decorated room with a couch pushed far too close to a television, and a punching bag sitting in the center of the space.

You fail to bite back laughter, and when Jeongguk takes your hand and leads you up the stairs, he asks, "What?"

"Nothing," you mutter, eyeing the empty walls that have never been painted from their original white. "Just didn't take you for such a bro."

"Shut up," Jeongguk gripes, yanking on your arm and making you laugh even harder.

The upstairs hallway is just as plain, and as soon as he releases your hand and switches on the light, illuminating the bright white space, you squint and turn it off.

"I need fucking sunglasses if you're going to do that," you chide.

Jeongguk continues pulling you down to the room at the end of the hallway, making you wonder what might be in the other rooms. Does he have sex dungeons just like Taehyung? Perhaps a matching throne?

Rather than switching on the overhead light in his master suite, he thumbs around his phone and opens an app. "What color would her highness like the bedroom to be?" he asks with a grin, and you get onto your tiptoes to see the screen and then press where the color wheel is purple.

Slowly, the lights come on in an inviting deep purple glow, and you nod approvingly, then enter the space. At least his bedroom is decorated with dark walls and bedding, and some photos hung here and there.

The four-poster bed is straight ahead, and to the right are two large leather chairs. Along the far wall, beside a large window, is a big wooden x with leather restraints on each end—two for wrists and two for ankles, you surmise.

As you step forward, your entire body feels a little off-kilter. It is slight but enough to make you dizzy, and you hold your arms out, clenching the bottle of champagne as you mutter, "Whoa."

"Starting to kick in?" Jeongguk asks as he walks past and sets his bottle on a bedside table.

"Maybe," you respond, unsure what it feels like for the drug to kick in.

Jeongguk approaches, takes the bottle from your hand, and you find yourself leaning and swaying slightly with each of his movements as if your body feels desperate for his warmth.

"Will you kiss me?" you whine, watching as Jeongguk's mouth pulls into a dopey smile and then sharpens into something much cockier.

He turns away to place the champagne bottle down, then returns in several large steps, taking you gently by the face with both hands and pressing his lips against yours. Jeongguk groans as he sucks your bottom lip between his teeth, making you gasp. You let your mouth fall open wide, feeling excitement and arousal simmer through you, and Jeongguk licks across your tongue hungrily, moaning and growling as he tastes and teases.

"Fuck," he pants as he releases the kiss, pressing his forehead into yours. "You are amazing. And I'm definitely coming up."

You feel tingly and electric, filled to the brim with desire and love and the need to touch and taste and enjoy. Jeongguk is warm and floral but musky, and he tastes like sour cocaine and bittersweet champagne.

"Thirsty," you mutter as your lips chase after his.

Jeongguk kisses you more but walks you backward, toward the champagne. Rather than reach your target destination, his ass bumps into the edge of his bed, and you giggle into one another's mouths before you peel yourself away and reach for the open bottle.

Suddenly, you feel as if you have run a marathon, and you have to stop and catch your breath. "I feel kind of overwhelmed," you admit, to which Jeongguk hums and says, "That's normal."

With the champagne in hand, Jeongguk leads you over to the large window at the far end of the room and opens it, letting in a nice cool breeze. The view is a massive, empty expanse of land with the city in the distance, and you stare across the shadows of trees and hills.

"I feel trapped in limbo," you mutter, unsure why you are saying it aloud.

Jeongguk wraps his arms around your waist and rests his head on your shoulder. When he asks, "Why is that?" his voice is soft and sweet.

"I love Yoongi and Namjoon…and I care a lot about the rest of you," you turn your head, rubbing the tip of your nose against his, "especially you."

"But?"

With a sigh, you turn your gaze back to the dark outdoors. "But I don't feel safe, and I have to be heavily medicated just to sleep, now. I lost several days to the fog of starting a new medication, and both Yoongi and Namjoon are distant. I feel like everything is slipping through my fingers and it scares the shit out of me."

"Maybe you need to get away for a little while. Take a trip."

You hum and consider what he says, pushing out the thought of Seokjin's words from earlier, but then scoff, shaking your head. "Take a vacation just to return to a lifestyle of violence. I don't know, I mean, what's the point?"

"Seokjin hyung says they struck a deal with the girls in Busan. That will drastically cut back on the violence."

"But there are other families in Korea," you say without having too much evidence to back up your statement outside of comments here and there made by the men while in your presence over the many months you have been here.

"Everyone else is neutral, and we do business with them from time to time. Our only adversaries are overseas, and it is not often that the yakuza comes to fuck with us."

A small comfort considering how quickly things could escalate, should they choose to hop on a ferry and start shit, but you accept it for now. This conversation feels too heavy, and you want to be light.

You do feel somewhat light, made of overcooked noodles, but also heavy and buoyant, and you sway your hips and close your eyes. "We need music."

"What kind of music?" Jeongguk asks, grabbing his phone and holding it out for you.

"Anything," you mutter, "pick something."

After only a few seconds, soft R&B comes on, and the music surrounds you in a way that feels like speakers are placed along each inch of the room. You dip and sway a little deeper, following the music while dragging your ass over Jeongguk until he begins to hiss and grip at you.

"Gonna make me hard dancing like this," he groans, nipping somewhat forcefully at your neck.

"I think the pills have dulled my sex drive, just like you said," you complain as you lift the bottle of champagne and take a drink. The carbonation cloys your senses, but you are thirsty, and you continue drinking until you are forced to stop and take a deep breath. When you turn and hand off the bottle, Jeongguk's pupils are bloodshot, and he looks a bit sleepy. "I haven't been able to cum. It's making me lose my mind."

Jeongguk drops to his knees and sets down the bottle, and you lean back against the window, body angled with your pelvis outward, in his face. As he rubs his hands up your thighs, pushing your short black skirt higher, you watch as his eyes widen and mouth drops open.

"No panties," Jeongguk muses, looking high as shit and happy as can be. When his gaze lifts and finds you, he shakes his head and heavy-blinks as he mutters, "You are fucking incredible."

Without another word, he sits high on his knees and licks over your cunt, sucking your clit between his lips before absolutely devouring you. The surge of pleasure that rocks through you causes you to tremble and jolt forward, and you splay your hands against the wall in an attempt to hold yourself steady.

Jeongguk is sloppy yet practiced in the way he eats you, alternating wide, wet laps and quick little flicks of his tongue. He zeroes in on your clit, sending shockwave after shockwave through you, aided by the molly to feel better than anything has felt in days.

Although the pleasure is intense and enrapturing, your high builds and builds, only to plateau at a devastatingly high peak. You want to cum so badly, you begin grinding your pussy against Jeongguk's mouth and moaning loudly. Jeongguk grips onto your thighs and does his best to keep up with your movements, slurping and humming like a man enjoying his first meal after a long fast.

"Finger me, Jeongguk," you beg, desperate for release.

Jeongguk does as he is told, plunging his fingers hard and deep. He finds your sweet spot and fucks into it nice and fast, and that is all it takes to push you over the edge, spraying your release against his face and your thighs. Rather than slow or stop, he continues to finger fuck you while lapping at your clit, forcing you to cum once more, and you scream between deep gasps for air.

Euphoria drowns you in its tidal wave, and you begin to spiral, suddenly needing to slow down and catch your breath. "Too much," you whimper as your knees buckle, and Jeongguk stops his movements and stands, caging you in against the window.

"How do you feel?" he asks, pressing his lips against yours and filling your senses with your own tangy, heady taste and scent.

"Great," you respond against him, then turn your head, still finding it hard to catch your breath. "But a little overwhelmed."

"You're probably still coming up, here," Jeongguk says, taking your hand and pulling you away from the wall while rubbing his mouth and chin clean with his forearm. It feels strange to walk, and you stumble a bit into him, leaning your weight against his chest.

"Let's just slow dance a little," he suggests with a sweet smile, and you drape your arms around his shoulders, incapable of denying him anything. Jeongguk gently grabs your hips and begins to lead you right to left in a small circle. "How is this?"

"Nice," you sigh with a smile, resting your cheek against his chest. "Thank you."

You are unsure how long the two of you stay like this, but several songs cycle, and your high continues to build until it finally seems to even out. Although you feel less jittery and heavy-light, you still feel somewhat otherworldly, finding you have an overwhelming urge to divulge all your deepest secrets to him. Evidently, he feels the same.

"Do you think you could fall for someone like me?" Jeongguk asks, breaking a long silence and taking you by surprise.

If you were sober, you would be absolutely panicking—possibly even running for the hills. But being this high, you simply shrug and say, "Of course, I could. Don't ask silly questions."

"Shit," he mutters, nuzzling his face against your neck as he chuckles, and you wonder if Jeon Jeongguk is actually shy? "That was too easy. And probably not something I should have asked."

You laugh as you hum and mutter, "Yeah, probably not. I don't think any good could come of us confessing those types of feelings to one another, all things considered."

"True," Jeongguk says, laughing as he stands straight and looks you in the eye. He is absolutely beaming as he says, "I'll just keep it to myself, then," and pretends to zip his lips shut.

The thought that Jeongguk could be confessing to something so large should horrify you, but all you can do is smile. You are too high and too happy to unpack anything of this magnitude right now.

After another song, you feel the sudden, aching urge to tie Jeongguk to his bed and make him fall apart. And that is exactly what you ask him with your eyes wide and pleading.

"Let me tie you to your bed and make you fall apart? Please?"

Jeongguk gasps and grins, nodding as he says, "There is nothing in this world I could want more."

You begin to paw at his shirt, lifting the bottom hem over his head and tossing it to the floor. Your eyes linger on the black shapes etched from his shoulder down to his fingers, then you continue the task at hand and reach for the waistline of his shorts.

As the garment falls to the floor in a heavy thud, undoubtedly from his cell phone being in his pocket, Jeongguk steps backward, leaving it in a pile, and you realize he also wore nothing underneath his clothing. Jeongguk bends and fishes his coke vial out, then begins slowly backing between the large leather chairs toward his bed.

"No panties," you tease, closing in on Jeongguk, who continues to walk backward toward his bed. You reach your fingertips out, dancing them over his inviting hip bones. "You are fucking incredible."

Jeongguk chuckles, fixing you with a shy smile that makes your heart melt. When the backs of his legs hit his bed, he lets out a little snort-laugh, and then he begins to unscrew his vial and sniff two piles of cocaine into each nostril. He hands the drugs to you, then he turns and begins to pull a strap out from under his mattress, which you are absolutely unsurprised to see.

"There's one on each corner," he says, and you snort two little piles into each nostril, then close the vial tightly and toss it onto the comforter. You take the hint and round the end of the bed, fishing around for another strap, and when you find it, you pull it out, and set it on the corner of the mattress.

As you move to the head of the bed and find the last strap, Jeongguk gets onto the mattress, on his hands and knees and crawls into the center. "Want me lying down or sitting up?" he asks, and you lick your lips before saying, "Lie down."

Jeongguk settles in the center and pulls his hands over his head, and you get onto the bed on your knees and begin to restrain him, starting with one wrist, and then leaning over him with your chest hanging in his face to restrain the other.

To your surprise, the straps seem to be the perfect length to keep Jeongguk spread without there being much give. Once his ankles are in place, you crawl up to him and settle between his legs, bending close to breathe warmth against his hard, pretty cock.

Jeongguk whimpers and writhes in his restraints, and you lean to the side, slowly dragging your lips over the soft, supple skin of his thigh. He smells musky and familiar in a way that clenches at your heart, and suddenly, the weight of his confession moments ago begins to sink and settle through you, digging its claws in deep.

Do you think you could fall for someone like me? Asked so simply and casually, as if one asks about the weather.

Perhaps it is the combination of substances working their way through your system, but you begin to feel claustrophobic and nauseous, and you squeeze your eyes closed. Something simmers and sticks in the back of your throat, and all you can do is gasp for air.

"Doll?" Jeongguk asks, voice lilted with worry, and you swallow the lump and plaster on a smile, determined to make him feel just as good as he made you feel. You must do it; you need to.

"Just a little overwhelmed," you mutter, dragging your lips and teeth over the meat of his thigh, toward the musky shaved pubes at the base of his very inviting cock.

You wet your lips and drag them up and down his shaft, flicking your tongue out to coat it in as much saliva as you can muster, but your mouth is fucking dry from the drugs, and it stresses you out.

"Need the champagne," you whine as you sit up quickly and turn to hop-slide off the bed.

But you may as well be landing on the moon as you teeter and sway and stumble. You hold your arms out somewhat for balance and struggle to remember just how gravity works as you get your footing and rush over to the neglected champagne bottle by the window.

All the while, you attempt to pep talk yourself, chugging the tepid bittersweet liquid that is so heavily carbonated it fills your mouth like a gas, until you have no choice but to burp. And then you return to the bed, repeating in your head that this is something you want to do more than anything, and that it should be okay for you to love Jeongguk, if only for tonight.

Tomorrow you can unpack it and spiral accordingly, but tonight, you need to just enjoy the ride. You want to enjoy the ride.

Either Jeongguk can sense that something is off, or it is written clearly on your face, because his brows are knit, and his head is tilted upward as far as it can be with the restraints holding his arms splayed up and out.

"You're so handsome," you slur as you approach the bed, and set the bottle down on the small table, then you grip onto the comforter with both fists and hoist yourself back up onto the mattress. You mean it when you ask, "How did I get this lucky?"

You straddle Jeongguk's chest and lean forward, giving him an eyeful of a glistening wet pussy that he can't reach with his hands or lips while you lean forward and swallow his cock whole. Your mouth is still a little too dry, so you press him in nice and deep, forcing yourself to slowly gag from lack of oxygen while saliva pools and pools under your tongue.

"Fuck, holy shit, doll," Jeongguk whimpers from behind you, urging you on further. You suck his cock forcefully, desperate to milk him, and listen to him sob. Jeongguk is vocal, moaning and bleating and begging while he writhes in his restraints, hips bucking and trembling beneath you.

You stick a finger into your mouth to wet it, then reach under Jeongguk's balls to rub little circles against his rim, and he loses it—yanking on the restraints while singing long, pretty notes of pleasure.

Without warning, he cums in your mouth, and you gag, letting some of it hit your soft palate before dripping past your lips. But you swallow the rest, sucking on his tip and moaning while he shoots rope after rope onto the back of your tongue.

"Holy fuck," Jeongguk sobs. "Oh my fucking god!"

You feel elated and higher than before, humming and pleased with yourself for making him cum in what has felt like mere minutes.

"Please let me taste you, noona," he begs, and you sit up slightly and back into his face, shoving your pussy and ass against his mouth and only giving him enough room to lick and suck desperately, but not enough room to breathe.

When you move away, he whimpers, and you decide that you want to be even more high than you already are. The goal was to get fucked up and out of your head, and here you are, lodged so deep in your swirling thoughts that you fear you might just go mad.

"Mind if I do more coke?" you ask as you crawl forward past Jeongguk's torso and settle haphazardly between his legs. The vial is right where you left it, and you reach for it before he can respond.

You snort two little piles into each nostril—four total—and then screw the lid back on before tossing it aside and turning to face your prize. Jeongguk is covered in a sheen of sweat, eyes blown wide as the heavens, and you reach for his half-hard cock and begin stroking it back to life.

"Damn, it takes you no time at all to get hard again," you mutter with a smirk, falling slightly forward as you attempt to straddle and crawl up him.

Jeongguk's expression is a mix of desire and concern, and when you finally have your hands planted on both sides of his head, you lean low and close, breasts spilling from your dress, as you take his bottom lip between his teeth and suck hard enough to make him shout.

"You really fucked me up with what you said," you chuckle against his lips, feeling your heart squeeze in your chest. The overwhelm has returned, and you press your forehead against his, fighting for air. "Why did you—" you croak, suddenly overcome with the urge to sob.

You do not want to fall for Jeongguk. You cannot do something so foolish.

Jeongguk struggles in his restraints, yanking his hands downward and attempting to sit up, but rather than help him, all you can do is lean into him and cry. Everything is so fucking messed up, and you need it to go back to normal. You cannot possibly stay with this family if things do not go back to some semblance of normal; being here and feeling so much worry and heartache is eating you alive.

"Noona, undo my restraints," Jeongguk urges, yanking his wrists uselessly downward. They are only cloth straps held together by velcro, but the angle and distance of them make it hard for him to reach one hand with the other.

Jeongguk struggles, and all you can do is sink further, burying your face into his neck while a never-ending stream of sadness pours from you. It feels strange to be this devastated because you also feel an outpouring of love and affection—happiness that is so strong and present, it fucking terrifies you.

"I can't—" you sob, unsure what you are referring to, just certain that everything is too much and all of it needs to stop.

"Dollface, hey," Jeongguk pleads before saying your first name, "please let me out of the restraints."

"Jeongguk," you whine, tears and snot coating your face, which smear onto his neck. "I can't do this anymore. I can't stand it."

Jeongguk groans and strains hard as he reaches to undo his wrists, and you cling to him as all the emotion drains from your face with loud heaving breaths and deep, rattling sobs. You hear the tearing of velcro, one after the other, and then Jeongguk wraps his arms tightly around you while sitting the two of you up, cradling you in between his thighs.

"Oh, baby," he mutters lowly against your temple, hands and arms doing their best to comfort you while he gently rocks back and forth. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea the drugs would make you feel this way."

"I'm sorry," you whine, drawing out each syllable, feeling utterly ashamed and embarrassed. The sweat on your skin has turned cold, and you shiver in his arms. "I feel really, really fucking happy too, but it just…I'm so scared, Jeongguk. I'm so fucking scared."

“It’s okay to be scared. I’m here for you,” Jeongguk says your name, placing a firm, slow kiss against your temple, making you shudder out a sob. “I’ll hold you until you feel better.”

You know that he is here for you—that he would hold you through absolutely anything. And that just adds to the ineffable pile of terrifying possibilities.

“I’m too high to sleep,” you whimper, sniffling pathetically as your exhale shakes through your mouth.

“Me too, baby, don’t worry,” Jeongguk chuckles, squeezing you tightly in his embrace. “I got you, don’t worry. You’re safe with me.”

True to his word, Jeongguk does hold you until you feel better. For hours, you sit on his bed, muttering through half-truths about your fears and your loves, your hopes and your dreams. When you shower off the cold sweat, you lean into his chest, and when he dresses you in a sweatshirt and joggers that swallow you whole, he keeps at least one arm around you at all times.

As the sun rises high, you finally stop shivering from the comedown, Jeongguk carries you home on his back, and you smile as the sunlight warms your cheeks. The only time Jeongguk lets go of you is when you find Namjoon standing out by the front door, smoking a joint.

Namjoon’s smile shines as bright as the early afternoon sun, and as you slide down Jeongguk’s back, setting your feet onto the ground, you run into Namjoon’s arms, throwing yourself into him, catching a whiff of welcoming musk and the skunky stench of weed.

“Sweetheart, did the two of you have fun?”

You smile brightly and only half-lie when you say yes because, despite all the tears, your heart feels so full.

“Thanks, Jeongguk,” you say as you release Namjoon and turn around.

Jeongguk stares at the ground for a beat, then he looks up and smiles. There is an unmistakable sadness in his eyes, and you fight the urge to run back to him.

“Thanks for the late night booty call, dollface,” he says with a wink, clearly doing his best to cover whatever else is going on in his mind.

You watch as Jeongguk waves and spins on his heels, walking back to the gravel path.

“You two are so cute,” Namjoon says sweetly as he engulfs you in a warm, familiar hug.

"Is that so?" you ask as you spin in Namjoon’s hold and wrap your arms around his middle.

He seems to have lightened up, and he hums in agreement, making you smile. You feel eager to enjoy your day with him. You have cried rivers in the past several days, and all you want is to breathe easily and feel happy. Even if someone important is missing.

“I spoke to Yoongi,” Namjoon says, making you gasp and take a step back. His smile is soft and inviting, dimples creasing his cheeks with bloodshot eyes, and you stare expectedly. “What do you say we fly to Hong Kong tomorrow and bring him home?”

Frantically, you nod, feeling your heart boom in your chest. Namjoon takes one more drag of his withering joint and flicks it out into the driveway.

“He regrets creating distance and he wants to talk about it in person,” Namjoon says, eyes trailing left to right as if reading your face. “Rest assured that we have done nothing to push him away.”

You wish you could believe him, but there is physical proof of something you have done to potentially make Yoongi want distance. But you smile and accept this explanation, for now.

“Are you hungry?” Namjoon asks, releasing his hug, leaving just an arm around your waist.

“Starving!” you exaggerate, feeling an empty pit grumbling where your stomach should be.

The front door is propped open, and Namjoon kicks out of his slippers while you leave behind your ballet flats, then he leads you into the kitchen.

“I’ve been craving eggs benedict, so i had the chef whip up some hollandaise sauce. Does that sound good to you?”

You glance up with a grin and say, “Awe, I was hoping you might burn the mansion down making me an omelet.”

Namjoon digs his fingers into your ribs, making you double over and squeal, grumbling about how he is not that bad of a cook.

With your hands held high, you shout, “I submit! You’re an amazing cook!” while tears pool in your tired eyes.

Namjoon halts his attack on your sides and ushers you along on wobbly legs to the kitchen.

"Are these Gguk's clothes?" he asks brightly, tugging at the oversized hoodie near your ribs.

You nod and look up at his bright, smiling face, basking in this moment of happiness. You tell yourself that, above all, you desperately need everything to work out and be okay, if only so that you can continue to have moments like these with the people you love.

No matter what, things need to be okay.

It's about time we get it straight Gimme a minute if it ain't too late It sounds about right, this can't be forced, babe 대충 무리였나봐, babe It shouldn't feel like this 애먼 기분만 해친 채 Hurts too much already 버티기가 이만큼 힘든데 Stay with me 'til the end of the day

Maybe we Could be Slow dancing Until the morning We could be romancing The night away

🎵 visit the playlist

a few little side notes: i didn't want to name what drug mc is taking because she's not having the best time, so i didn't want to stigmatize medication that anyone takes irl. like...we all know Xanax is used in wack/recreational ways, so that one feels ok to say by name, i guess?

anyway...the experiences mc has while on a cocktail of medications/drugs may not look the same as how your body may react to these, and that is okay. please do not bother me about how your experiences may differ with xanax and other medications, or molly and medications. (but for the sake of argument, i will say that sometimes when you do antidepressants and molly, the serotonin high hits too hard and fast and it can cause a very fast physical and emotional crash, which is why mc does not experience the pure euphoria that you might come to know and love from that drug.) it feels so weird to me when people hit me up to argue about this kind of stuff because everyone's bodies and brains are different, so please don't. this is a work of fiction above all else.

all that being said, i know i have said it before, but i will keep saying it: this story is sad, sad, sad from here on out. the overall end goal is something happy, but it won't feel that way for a while.

reblogs and comments are the lifeblood of this site, but likes are also super appreciated!!! thank you for reading, i love you!!!

a namjoon pov scene takes place between this chapter and the next one, where he devises a plan to get Yoongi back and has a heart-to-heart with mc. you can access his pov here (or learn parts of it in later chapters from the reader’s perspective!)

tag lists will be on separate reblogs! they’ve gotten too big to contain as one!

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#yoongi mafia #yoongi x reader #namjoon x reader #jungkook x reader #yoongi smut #namjoon smut #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts angst #bts mafia #bts poly #namjoon mafia #jungkook mafia #fic: collateral

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ahdraftingco · 1 year

Text

pairing: hard dom!joel miller x desperate!reader

ao3 crosspost: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44445643

rating: explicit (minors DNI)

word count: 7.8k+

summary: joel is your only hope, unfortunately. you and him aren't on the best of terms…not after you left him for dead during a smuggling run. but, he's the only one you can turn to when there's no one left in your life that gives a fuck, so you swallow your pride and ask for help from the man who hates your guts.

a/n: as always please read through ALL the warnings before proceeding: porn with plot, **dubious consent**, hard dom!joel miller, enemies to lovers, heavy angst (be ready for feels!), age gap, jealousy, possessive behavior, size difference, breaking and entering, use of the words "sir"/"princess", dom/sub undertones, death threats, degradation, spit, praise kink, forced orgasms, squirting, spanking, bdsm, choking, knife play, unprotected piv, breeding kink, body worship, minor injuries/scars, hair-pulling, alcohol mention, drug abuse (sleeping pills), hurt/comfort, no use of y/n

enjoy this little one-shot I whipped up in the moment! it's been raining and I love the idea of being stuck in the rain with nowhere else to go except to your worst enemy's home ;) have a fun read!

｡ﾟ🌨｡ﾟ｡⋆ ﾟ petrichor (n.): the earthy scent produced when rain falls on dry soil ｡ﾟ🌨｡ﾟ｡⋆ ﾟ

You're about to do something very stupid. Though, it's not like that's atypical for you. You're used to doing impulsive things, but this…this is just downright idiotic.

Breaking into Joel Miller's apartment in the middle of a hurricane may take the cake of shit you really should not do in your lifetime. You reason to yourself that you'll hide there until you dry off and then you'll find some other place to fuck off to. He should be asleep so you'll have at least a few hours if he took the pills. He loves those pills. They're the only thing that will get him to sleep.

You remember being on the road with him, out to pick up the very pills he was used to taking and smuggling them back. To think, he actually lived after you left him for dead. In your defense, you're younger and the moment those slavers caught up to him, you weren't going to stop running in hopes of saving him.

You both were only business partners, anyways. You were the liaison, he was the muscle. That's all you were. Nothing else.

Even the few times you both were bored out of your minds, waiting for a contact, the sex was to kill time. It wasn't bad, but there wasn't any feeling in it. Neither of you can feel much. You've lost enough and so has he. You both kept your distance from getting too close and that's why it worked, your little partnership.

That is, until you left him for dead.

Ever since he managed to get back, you haven't taken a single big smuggling job. You've completely cut yourself from the network because you don't want to deal with the wrath of Joel Miller. You settled for solo trips between cities to deliver smaller items, like letters between loved ones. The work didn't pay well and it was dangerous, but it was all you could do in the meantime.

You heard Joel was heading out of town for some job and he won't be back for a long while. That'll be when you can reintegrate yourself into the smuggling scene, without the fear of being murdered by him.

You've spent so much time avoiding him, and now you're about to throw all that away because you're fucking freezing your ass off in the pouring rain and you need a place to go that isn't flooded. All your usual spots are filled to the brink with water and you haven't had your own place in quite some time. Rent is too expensive and you don't need a space to call your own anyways.

Back to the matter at hand, this isn't the first time you've snuck into Joel's apartment.

You've done it three times.

The first time, it was to steal some of his booze. It was a long day with no pay at the end of it because your contact fucking cheaped out and got killed so you needed a drink and you weren't going to ask him for one. Steal first, beg for forgiveness later, though he never did find out.

The second time, you needed some pills. Sure, you could buy your own, or pocket a few on your runs, but you knew Joel kept the good shit for himself, so you snatched some and replaced them with counterfeits. They weren't going to kill him. Or, well, they didn't. You weren't actually sure if they were safe or not, but at that moment, you didn't really care.

People die all the time. What's one more death?

As for the last time you snuck into his apartment…it's the reason why you would never want to do it again. It didn't feel good. You can't explain it but you forgot why you were there in the first place the moment you saw Joel and Tess together. You watched from the fire escape outside the bedroom window as Joel held her more tenderly than he has ever held you. You wondered then if she meant something to him.

You wondered then if you ever meant something to him.

Maybe that's why you left him for dead. He didn't need you. He had Tess. You had no one but yourself to protect.

You hope—prayed—Tess wasn't there now. You don't know what you'd do if she was.

Could you still sneak in, or would seeing them together again break you once more?

You don't understand why it pains you as much as it does. Envy, you think, that must be it. You envy that Joel has someone he can hold like that, someone who can hold him like that, while you're all alone, cold and soaked in the rain.

You're sick and tired of this fucking rain, so you decide to say fuck it and sneak in.

If Tess is there, so be it. You'll live. Maybe.

With a quick spin of your lockpick, you easily get the bathroom window open, sliding quietly inside. The apartment is still and silent, so you're certain they're asleep if they are here. You take the moment to strip your clothes off, half because they're wet beyond salvageability, half because they'll be too loud for you to sneak into Joel's closet to take some spare clothes.

You dry yourself off with what you assume must be his towel because it smells musky with a hint of cigarettes and whiskey. You then make your way out of the bathroom, opening the door as slowly as you can so that it doesn't creak. It's fucking cold since you're completely naked, but you fight back the shivers as you tiptoe into the living room.

You hold in a sigh of relief when you see the bed is empty and Joel is asleep, alone, on the couch with an empty glass of whiskey on the table near him. He's knocked out. You should be fine for a few hours, like you predicted.

You still keep your guard up, being as stealthy as possible as you rummage through his closet for something to wear. You manage to find a shirt and some sweats that fit you decently and socks. You're very thankful for the socks.

Now, all you have to do is decide where you're going to hole up for the next few hours. You contemplate laying underneath the bed. You doubt Joel will check there for any reason and that way, you could maybe get some sleep since you'd be on your back. But, it's a bit too risky.

You could hang out in the closet, but he might need to look through it, so that's not the best option. Same goes for the bathroom. You'd have to be ready in case he needs to piss.

So, you throw the idea of sleep out the window. You just need a place to chill and not get caught.

Easier said than done, because the moment you decide to hide in the bathroom closet, arms wrap around your body and slam you to the hallway floor.

You spit out the word "fuck" as you try to get yourself back up, but then you feel a knife press against your neck, sobering you up from the pain real fast. Joel holds you down with his entire body, consuming you completely as he towers over you like a wild beast.

"Don't fucking move or I'll slit your throat, princess." Joel's southern accent has such a bite to it that you get more goosebumps than when you were cold.

"Alright." You stay completely still as you tell him, "I just need to stay until the rain stops, then I'll go. I won't bother you again, Joel. I promise."

"You've done enough bothering as it is." There's a tinge of anger in his tone and you know why it's there. "Why are you even here? Ain't you got somewhere else to be?"

You slowly shake your head then admit, "I had nowhere else to go. Everywhere's flooded."

"What happened to your place?" He knew you back when you had one. Probably assumed you still had it.

"Couldn't afford to keep living there. Haven't had a place of my own in a while." You don't know why you're being honest to him, but you're hoping it'll build some rapport so that he'll get off of you. "Will you please put the knife away?"

"You aren't in a position to make demands." He presses the knife further into your neck with those words, the blade cutting into you just enough for you to really feel it. "You've got some fucking nerve, breaking into my place and stealing my clothes."

"I'm sorry, Joel." You're starting to feel the air sting the cut on your neck and you bite back a wince as you plead, "I really didn't have anywhere else to go. I just wanted to get out of the rain. You weren't even supposed to know I was here."

"You think I didn't know?" It sounds like you've ticked him off more with that. "I've let you steal from me enough times, but this time, you aren't getting away with it, princess."

This is news to you. "You…knew?"

"You don't think I keep track of my whiskey and my pills?" He scoffs, irritated that you thought he wasn't going to notice.

Then what about…you don't ask. You can't bring yourself to.

If he knew you were there when he was with Tess, then Joel did it on purpose. He wanted you to see them together. He wanted you to suffer and yearn for a moment you could never have. Fucking asshole.

"You had plenty and you know it's hard for me to get shit." You retort, not allowing him to act so high and mighty. "They don't give a fuck about selling you alcohol or drugs because you're just a dying old man."

Right when you finish your sentence, Joel tosses the knife aside and before you can stop him, both of his hands wrap around your throat and press down hard. You gasp for air as he starts strangling you. You reach up with your hands, clawing at his arms, trying to get him the fuck off you, but he's so much stronger than you. He always has been.

"Is that all I ever was to you? A dying old man?" He spits in your face out of pure anger, making you flinch. "Is that why you left me there? Because you figured I'd be dead soon anyways, so why fucking bother? Do you know what those slavers did to me?"

You blink back tears, not from the pain of being choked out, but because you knew. You heard what happened to Joel. How they used him as their punching bag. How they forced him to kill people for them in the most sadistic ways. How they stripped away the last shred of humanity left in him before he found the strength to slaughter them all.

"I'm sorry." You breathe out meekly. "I'm so sorry…"

"No, you ain't." Joel releases you from his grip then, allowing you to breathe.

You swallow as much air as you can through your bruised neck. Every breath hurts but you're too desperate for air to care. Then, you start to sob because it's all too much.

"I shouldn't have left you, Joel." You confess everything to him in a moment of weakness. "I should've stayed and fought them, but I was scared of getting caught by them. I know what they do to women like me…and I just…I couldn't…I'm sorry. I fucked up. I should've—"

"Get your ass up." Joel snaps his fingers and you listen to him all too reflexively, standing up beside him. "Now go over to the bed and bend over."

Your throat goes completely dry and you want to protest but…

"Listening to me right now is what you should do." He makes it clear that he won't repeat himself.

So, you quickly run over to his bed and do as you're told, bending over so that your stomach is on the bed but your feet are planted in the ground. It's humiliating, having your ass up like this and not being able to see Joel staring at you.

That's the point, you figure, since he goes, "now kick off your pants and spread your legs again just like that."

You freeze because…you really don't want to do that since you aren't wearing anything underneath. He doesn't like your hesitation at all.

Suddenly, you feel him yank you up by your hair and he yells straight in your face, "do as I say or I'll hurt you worse than those slavers would have."

Joel finishes his threat by spitting in your face and you whimper in fear, nodding your head to show him you understand before you strip off your pants. He lets go of your hair and your face drops back onto the bed as your legs spread with your ass up, completely naked from the waist down.

"Now, present to me." He demands fiercely. "Use your hand and show me your pussy."

You squirm, mainly out of embarrassment. You've never done anything like this before. It's degrading, dipping your dominant hand between your legs so you can hold open your folds so he can see all of you. You can't even tell where he's looking because he's directly behind you.

Then, you let out a shocked gasp when you feel him spit right on your clit. It's wet and warm and you should feel uncomfortable but it tingles in the weirdest way. You shouldn't want any of this, but your pussy is starting to ache uncontrollably.

"Poor little princess." Joel mocks you as his fingers trail along your bare ass. "It looks like it's been a while since someone's used this hole of yours."

He isn't wrong, as humiliating as it is to admit. You've been on a dry spell since you left him for dead. You just couldn't bring yourself to have a fling, not with all the guilt. It's hard to get turned on when your thoughts won't stop haunting you.

It makes you wonder why you're feeling the heat rise in your body despite it all. You're almost certain you're getting wet. It's more than just his spit between your legs and that haunts you in a totally different way.

"Tell me the truth." He addresses himself like he used to when the two of you would fuck. "Has no one touched you recently?"

You take in a deep breath before you answer, "no one, not even myself."

"Why?" He asks, his fingers slowly making their way down the line of your ass, brushing along all of your sensitive skin with his rough fingertips.

"I-I couldn't." You feel ashamed saying this but you do anyways, "I didn't want to feel good."

"Is that why you've been taking those shitty courier jobs?" His words surprise you.

Has Joel…been keeping tabs on you?

"Someone has to do them."

"Enough people have died doing them." He tells you as you feel a finger teasing your entrance. You quiver at his touch, stunned at how it contrasts with his words, "do you want to die, my princess?"

You press your lips together and then, when you can't seem to hold it in anymore, you whisper, "yes, sir."

His finger slips inside of you right then and your toes curl. It feels foreign because it's been a while but so familiar because it's Joel. Your body leans into the feeling as he grinds his finger against your g-spot.

"Now, why would the girl who left this old man to die want to die now?" He asks as he bends over on top of you, engulfing you in his body. His hot breath lingers on your ear when he whispers, "are you scared to be alive in a world where I'm not dead?"

Joel digs another thick finger inside of you, spreading you wide open. You bite the comforter, trying to ease the sudden mix of pain and pleasure that's coursing through your body.

"Answer me." He commands, grabbing you by the hair once again so he can yank you up, pulling you away from the hold you had on the blanket with your teeth.

You don't know what to say. It's hard to think when he's stirring your insides like this while he taunts you for your past actions. You're a mixture of guilty and aroused right now.

Your mind is so foggy which is why you start mumbling out your thoughts without a filter, "I'm not afraid of you, Joel. I don't mind if you hurt me for what I've done to you. I deserve it. I deserve…all of it, even death. It should've been me. I don't have anyone to live for. At least you had Tess so—"

Maybe mentioning her name is what got him mad, but Joel cuts you off from speaking by roughly fingering you faster. Your legs start to wobble as your orgasm builds, your body threatening to collapse in on itself. You can't say another word because every breath is occupied by a moan or a gasp for air.

"Cum." Joel is stern and his fingers are unyielding. "Cum your fucking brains out, princess."

Your orgasm spills out like a broken dam the moment he thrusts side to side, forcing your body to convulse inwards. He catches you before you collapse entirely, guiding you onto his lap. There, he wraps his arms around you, holding you as you navigate every wave of sheer intensity surging through you.

You lean on him with your head buried in the crook of his neck, and Joel gently rubs your back, helping you calm down. Maybe that's why you feel secure enough to cry. You latch onto him and you just sob everything out, needing to release all the feelings built up inside of you since the moment you found out he'd never be yours.

"I didn't want to leave you." You breathe out softly in between your tears. "I didn't want to admit that I was jealous of you and Tess. I didn't want to deal with it, with the fact that I was really all alone and you weren't. It's selfish but…I liked that you had no one else because it meant you were like me. When that wasn't the case anymore, I just…I panicked and ran and I left you for dead. I'm sorry, Joel. I'm so sorry. It's all my fault."

Your heart aches so terribly now that the pleasure has washed out of your system. It felt good to be touched by him again, even if it was under these circumstances. But, that fear creeps back in, the fear that he'll never touch you again, and you hold onto him tighter because of it, not wanting to let go.

"Come here." He whispers, nudging you until you're straddling his lap. Then, he taps on his shoulder and instructs, "bite."

You nod, listening to his orders, wondering if he even heard anything you just said. You pool the fabric of his shirt in your mouth, holding it with your teeth. You keep your head buried in his neck, unable to look at him after everything you confessed.

That's okay, though. He doesn't need to see your face. Not for what's about to happen.

You fully understand the moment you feel his cold hand grip your ass. He's keeping you steady for a reason.

"No screaming." He warns and you nod, bracing yourself by biting down a bit harder.

The first spank is a test. It's not hard, but it's not light either. You squirm after he smacks your ass and unconsciously, your body grinds up against him. You realize then that he's hard underneath you, his cock bulging right through his sweats.

Now, you're biting back a moan.

"Good girl." He praises you for keeping quiet but then switches to a more sinister tone. "Now, I won't stop until you've been thoroughly punished. Do you understand, princess? Let me hear it."

You let go of his shirt from your mouth, shocked that it's already soaked in your drool, so you can answer, "yes, sir."

Before you can get the fabric stuffed back in your mouth, Joel slaps you hard on the ass and you have to bite down on your lip to stop yourself from screaming. You hold in your whines and he rewards you by gently kneading your sensitive skin, easing you through the pain.

"I treat you well, don't I?" He asks and you nod in response, which is why he allows you the time to bundle his shirt back into your mouth. Then, he whispers, almost too quietly for you to catch, "then why did you run from me?"

Another smack connects with your ass and you quiver all over from the suddenness. You can feel how wet you've gotten because you've soaked his sweats, his cock pressing wet fabric up against your bare pussy. You want him inside of you. You can't resist it when you're right up against him like this.

But, you don't deserve it. You don't deserve him, not after what you did. So, you grip onto his back tightly with your hands, preparing yourself to endure whatever he wants to do to you.

"Lift your hips." He pushes you upwards until you're no longer fully sat on his lap. "Now strip."

You don't protest, pulling away from him once more so you can tug your shirt off, tossing it on the floor. You don't even remember being cold, not when your entire body is on fire right now.

You watch as Joel scans every inch of your skin with his eyes, swallowing you up in his intense gaze. Then, when he has had his fill of looking at you, he demands, "show me that pussy of yours."

As much as it kills you to do so, because the sheer thought sends heat through every inch of your skin, you lean back and use your hand to spread your folds to give him what he wants. It's hard to hold this position, but that's the point. He wants you to suffer both physically and mentally. It's what you deserve so you submit to it.

"Look at your clit." His rough fingers brush against that bundle of nerves, rippling shockwaves through you. "It's begging to be touched with how swollen it is."

You swore, you could feel more of your slick drip out onto your fingers when he said that. There's something in the way he draws you in with his words that forces your body to respond. It aches for him, truly.

"Tell me what you want, princess." He teases your inner thighs, drawing circles there as he waits for your reply.

You shouldn't say a word. You shouldn't want anything because you can't have it.

But, you can't resist telling him, "I miss the way your mouth feels."

That's the first time you see Joel smile all night. It's a light smirk, but a grin nonetheless.

"Did you like the way I'd eat your pussy when we needed to kill time?" His words spark so much desire in you as the memories flood your mind.

It was lazy, the way Joel would rest with his head between your legs, spending hours exploring you with his tongue out of sheer boredom. Half the time, it was less for pleasure and more for comfort. It helped you sleep. It helped him sleep. Why? Neither of you knew, but if it worked, you both kept it up.

"I liked it more than I should have." You whisper quietly into the night, hoping your words will be washed away from the heavy rain pouring outside.

Suddenly, Joel tosses you onto your back on the bed and then buries his face between your legs. You gasp, not expecting to feel his warm tongue on your clit so soon, but he's impatient. You grab onto his hair as he swirls his tongue just the way you used to like it, making your mind all fuzzy from delight.

"If you keep doing that…I'm going to…" You clamp your hand over your mouth, silencing yourself because you know it won't do you any good. He's not listening, anyways.

You stifle your moans in your palm as Joel keeps ravaging your pussy. You can feel your orgasm building and it's a big one. You're going to explode and it scares you.

You want to tell Joel to stop because you won't be able to handle it. You can't live with the thought of how good it feels to have him touch you like this. It's too much. Maybe that's why the tears pool up in your eyes.

"I can't." You try to push him away, begging him, "please, Joel, we can't do this…"

You can feel how close you are and it's taking every bit of your strength to edge yourself. You need to hold it in. You can't cum. You can't…because he isn't yours.

This all ends tonight and you can't bear more memories of this. You avoided him for a reason…and now it's hitting you at full force.

You feel something for Joel. You wouldn't call it love, but it's something. It's meaningful enough that it scares the living fuck out of you.

"Please, stop." You shove at him, needing him to listen but he won't so you have to say what you must, even if it breaks your heart, "what about Tess? What would she do if she found out–"

"Shut up." He's quick with his retort, silencing you. "She has nothing to do with this, with us."

There is no us. You want to tell him that but it hurts too much to admit.

So, instead, you confess something else, "I saw you, before our run. You made love to Tess. You held her more tenderly than you've ever held me. You can't…you can't throw that away. Please, Joel. Don't ruin a good thing."

"Fucking hypocrite." He curses at you, his southern accent peaking as he growls back at you, "you're the one who ruined a good thing. You're the one who slept with my fucking brother and now you're lecturing me about fucking someone else?"

You blink, stunned that Joel knows about that. It was a while ago. A long while ago. Maybe the third time you met Tommy. You both got drunk and slept together. It wasn't a big deal. It wasn't anything special. It was just a drunken one night stand that never happened again but you told Tommy that you both needed to keep it from Joel. It would just be better if he didn't know and Tommy agreed…

So, what changed? Did Tommy have a change of heart and tell Joel?

Joel confirms it. "Tommy told me everything. Said he needed to confess his sins after he married his wife. And here I thought…"

There's an expression on Joel's face that you can't quite parse. It's not anger. It's not resentment. It's just…pain.

Heartbreak.

You and Joel went to Tommy's wedding, since it was a stop on the way to one of the hubs you both had a job at. He made you dress up, which you never do but you did because it was a wedding and you'd never been to one before. You spent that night with Joel, shared a dance, talked about life before the outbreak. You were young when it happened, so you practically grew up in this world, knowing very little of the world before.

The night came and went in a flash. You and Joel had stayed up, just mindlessly chatting together. You remember calling him handsome because you'd never seen him in a suit before.

You had shoved the memory of him kissing you gently on the cheek before telling you to go rest for the day, since you both had to head out soon. It was a soft peck but it…it was unlike anything he'd done before. It was almost romantic and you couldn't fall asleep with that on your mind.

Joel mentioned nothing of it when you both left Tommy's place. He didn't really talk much for the rest of that job. He did, however, fuck you roughly every now and then on the road.

Boredom, he claimed. He liked toying with his submissive little princess.

When you both got back, he got close with Tess and then you caught them sleeping together and the rest was history…right?

Wrong.

"I knew you were there." Joel climbs on top of you then so that he can look down on you, seeing how much smaller you are than him. He wants to be powerful because his words make him feel weak. "I knew you were watching me and Tess so I fucked with you. I wanted to make you jealous. I wanted to get back at you for fucking my brother behind my back. I wanted…I wanted you to feel something for me, but you didn't. You just left me there to die. You didn't give a fuck about me and I should've realized that sooner before I gave a fuck about you."

"What…" You're in total disbelief.

Did Joel really fuck Tess like that because of some kind of jealous vendetta? He wanted you to yearn for his love and that was the only way he could show it because he was scared you didn't want it.

"Joel, I–"

He cuts you off to ask, "did I really mean nothing to you? I let you steal my booze. I let you steal my pills. I let you steal my fucking heart and you left me to die."

You choke on your own inhale then, the guilt consuming you. You know you shouldn't have left him. You know you should've fought and tried to save him. You know…but you were afraid and selfish and running from more than just your feelings for him.

"You meant too much to me." You speak the truth into the night because you need him to know it. "And that scared me. I never felt that way about anyone before and…and I thought I was all alone in it. I was angry because I thought you could be happy without me. I was sad because I didn't want you to be with Tess. I left you…because I didn't know how I'd live if I had to come back and watch you live a life with someone else that wasn't me. I'm sorry, Joel. I'm so fucking sorry…"

You feel tears streaming down your face, but they aren't yours. They're hitting your nose, dripping down your cheeks and onto your lips. They're hot and salty. Nothing like the cold, crisp rain outside.

And, they're coming from Joel of all people.

This hardened, soulless smuggler is crying in front of you because of you.

These tears are for you, right?

"I told myself if I made it out of there alive that I'd kill you." His words send chills down your spine even if his eyes are spilling tears. "I told myself that the only reason I needed to live was to get back at you for leaving me in the dust. But then, I came back and…you were doing worse than me. I didn't even think that was possible, but I watched you. You tried your hardest to avoid me, but I still found ways to keep an eye on you and…you would've let yourself wither away over this. My beautiful princess would've let the light die inside of her because of me. Am I right?"

You close your eyes, pinching them shut because seeing him sad is too much for you. It's hardly believable that he's sad over you.

Has he really been watching you waste away? Would he have…wanted to help?

Is that why he hasn't kicked you out of his place? Is that why he wanted to make you feel good?

"I didn't think I deserved to be happy after what I did to you."

You open your eyes then but immediately close them when you feel Joel's lips on yours. Out of necessity, you wrap your arms around his neck, burying your hands in his hair, pulling him close to you. You and Joel rarely kissed, and it never felt like this.

There's such a desperation in it, where both of you just have to be connected, sharing breaths and space in each other's mouths.

"I haven't been happy without you." Joel breathes out onto your lips when he pulls away. "I wanted to be with you. That's why Tommy told me. It's because I told him how much I wanted you and he couldn't keep it a secret any longer."

"He was worried I didn't feel the same." You gather that to be the case and he nods in agreement.

"And I thought he was right, until now." Joel cups your face in his hands, carefully wiping away the tears from your cheeks as he explains, "I was so angry with you, but it hurt more not having you by my side. I thought I lost you forever. The only reason I had the strength to come back was for you."

"Joel…" You can't help but pull him in for a hug, sobbing into his shoulder, "don't let me go. I don't want to be alone anymore. Please let me stay here."

"Until the hurricane ends?" He asks, the nerves apparent in his tone.

You shake your head against his chest and then promise, "until you want to kill me for what I've done."

He chuckles lightly at that and nods. "Deal."

You smile at him then and you realize that's the first time you've smiled all night. It warms your heart and you lean up, giving Joel a kiss on the cheek like he had done at Tommy's wedding.

"Let's get you under the covers." He must notice that you're getting cold so he helps you get warm, bundling the comforter over the two of you. "Have you been cold without me?"

You feel embarrassed that he'd ask something like that, mainly because you know he's prompting you to say, "it's always warmer snuggling up with you, sir."

"Good girl, still knowing who she belongs to." Joel must be very happy about that because he slowly sinks his way under the covers until he's back between your legs. "Now, is my precious princess going to cum for me this time?"

"Yes." You assure him that you won't hold back.

"Ask politely." He's demanding and it shoots such a thrill through you to see him like this again.

"Will you please make me cum, sir?" You chew on your lip right after you say that, trying to hold in your shyness.

"Only if you don't hold in your voice. I rarely get to hear you be vocal, so I want you to be now."

You hadn't realized how used to being quiet you were in bed. Holding in your moans was a necessity since you and Joel normally fucked out in the open and rarely behind closed doors. This wouldn't be the first time you've gotten to be loud, but it would be the first time you can really let yourself drown in the pleasure.

"Please hurry, then." You grip onto his messy hair, urging him to continue. He smiles at your impatience and doesn't keep you waiting much longer.

Your eyes roll back when Joel's lips wrap around your clit, giving it a light suck. It's like all the air has escaped your lungs because you can't breathe anymore. His beard scratches at your inner thighs and it makes you want to grind on him more. You just want to remember this feeling.

You want him to etch himself into your mind and body completely.

"I love it when you ride my face like that, darlin'." The term of endearment rolls off his tongue before he dips lower, teasing your aching pussy with the tip.

"Please." You hate that he's stalling. You're wriggling at his soft touch, at the way he dips his tongue so casually inside of you. He knows it's not enough to get you off.

Joel relishes in the control he has over you. He might be smothered between your thighs but he's in charge of the pace. He gets to choose if he wants to give you what you need and you love every second of it.

That's why when he finally eats you out the way you've been craving, you gush out uncontrollably when you're taken over the edge. Your breaths are all raspy and your mind is trying to catch up with the pleasure that's searing every inch of your body.

Joel licks his lips with a grin, proud that he made you squirt with just his mouth. You cover your face at the sight of him, timid because you haven't cum that hard in quite some time.

"Can you handle more or will you give out on me too early?" He asks as he pulls off his shirt, showing off the body you've been missing.

Though, you can't seem to answer his question when you see the new scars on his chest. There are…so many…and it's obvious they were left to fester because the scars are like spiderwebs of pink and red. Your hand unconsciously reaches up and Joel takes your hand, pulling it towards him so you can lay your palm on the scar closest to his heart.

"I-I did this." You stammer your words, your nerves heightening at the thought of what pain Joel went through. "You got hurt because of me. I-"

"It's in the past." He holds your hand securely, as if to ground you back into reality. "Don't think about that anymore."

"Can I touch you then?" You press your hand into him more, wanting him to switch places with you. "Please, Joel. Let me so I can forgive myself."

You can sense he's afraid in his own way. It's obvious neither of you have sought comfort for what had happened between you two, so opening up to that now is difficult. But, Joel nods slowly and then pulls you onto him, having you straddle him once again.

For the next hour, you kiss every inch of his body. Your hands trail along every scar, old and new, and you whisper quiet affirmations to him, telling him that you appreciate him and his resilience. You apologize here and there, even though he tells you not to, but it isn't for him. You need it more than he does and he understands that soon enough.

"You're so…beautiful." Joel tells you when you come up to him for a kiss. "It makes me wary that you want to be here with a man like me."

"I think you forgot that I'm the one who broke into your house." You say with a smirk and he lets out a hearty laugh.

"What would you have done if I didn't find you?" He wonders aloud, so you think for a moment.

A part of you thinks you chose Joel's place because you wanted to get caught. It would be the only way you could get yourself to talk to him again, after all.

With a chuckle, you tell him, "I think I would have woken you up. You've never been a heavy sleeper. Plus, I know you stopped taking the pills."

"How do you know that?" He's curious.

"You always ween off them before a trip and I know you've got a big one coming up." You don't shy away from the fact that you've been keeping tabs on him too. "I…heard you're taking Tess."

"It was either her or go alone, since I didn't have you anymore." He says as his hand comes up to caress your face. "Would it be wrong of me to ask you to go with me instead?"

"What's the job?" You ask, leaning into his touch.

Joel adjusts until you're both facing one another side by side so that his hands can idly run along your skin while he explains, "Marlene has some kind of cargo she needs transported."

"You're working with the Fireflies?" You're surprised to hear that.

"I ain't, I just need what they're willing to give me so I can get to Tommy." That makes a lot more sense.

"I heard you've been looking for him." You bribed the radio man for that information a few days ago, actually.

"Mhm." Joel nods, his hand slipping between your legs then, getting distracted.

You part your legs so that he has better access and he smiles at you when you do. His hand dips deeper, his fingertips teasing your entrance as his palm rests on your clit. He won't go any further than this. Not right now.

Not unless you give him a reason to. "Make me cum again and I'll go with you. Tess can tag along if you think we need the extra body."

"Are you telling me you wouldn't be too shy to fuck in front of Tess?" He dips two of his fingers into you when he says that and you have to hold back your gasp. "You'd be too horny not to. Isn't that right, my greedy princess?"

"Yes, sir." You roll your hips against his hand, needing him to knead your clit with his palm. "I wouldn't care. I'd let you do anything you wanted to me, wherever, whenever."

"Tess won't be tagging along." Joel tells you as he grabs your face with his free hand, lifting your chin to meet his fearsome gaze. "No one gets to see you look like this but me. Understood?"

"I understand." You say with a nod so he drags his thumb across your lip before pushing it into your mouth. You swirl your tongue along his calloused finger and then let it rest there with your lips wrapped around it.

"My princess. All mine. Every hole of yours is mine to fill." He curls his fingers inside of your pussy, rubbing up against your g-spot once again. "Do you like being mine?"

You don't even respond. Instead, your hand sneaks down and pulls his hard cock out from his sweats, needing to feel him. You gently stroke him up and down as he starts to thrust his fingers inside of you, making you wish it was his cock instead.

"You drive me crazy." He lets out a low growl before he topples you over, smacking your hand away from him. He pulls his fingers out of you then and rubs all of your slick onto his cock, the wet sounds filling the air.

It's erotic and hot, watching how his cock throbs for you.

That's why you slip your hand down and spread yourself wide open like he has made you do all of tonight and tell him, "take what's yours, Joel."

He doesn't wait a second longer. You're ill-prepared for him to slam every inch of his cock inside of you, but the moment he hilts, you swear you could've cum right there.

The way he fills you up is perfect. Thick, hot and hard, curving inside of you at the perfect angle to rub every inch of your pussy the way it needs to be.

You're already swimming in ecstasy just having him sit inside of you like this, but then he starts to move and it's all over. You cum hard, clenching around his cock. Sparks tingle on your skin and you can't help but want so much more.

"Fuck, you feel so good, princess." He grunts, gripping onto your hips to steady himself. "I shouldn't fuck you raw like this, though."

"I don't care." You should, but you've always been a bit reckless so you wager, "I won't forgive you if you pull out right now."

"Someone wants me to bury my seed deep inside of her." He leans down then, his eyes locking on yours as he goes, "if you want me to fuck you until you're pregnant, all you have to do is beg."

You do so without hesitation, "please fill me up with your cum, sir."

He's glad to hear it, which is why he responds, "I'm going to drown your pussy until it's leaking out over my cock and then I'll do it again, and again, as many times as it takes, my little princess."

Joel drags his hand across your stomach and rolls his hips, like he wants to feel the way his cock is stirring you up inside. You're tightening up so much because it's been so long since you've been filled like this. It aches in the best kind of way, that pleasure of being split in two by him.

When he starts to go faster, rougher, it's hard for you to edge yourself. You can't count the number of times you must have cum before he finally did. It drips out of you like a flood as he slowly pulls out.

Though, right when you think he's going to slip away entirely, Joel shoves his cock back inside of you, making your toes curl uncontrollably. You crave more already and he's well aware.

That's why when he does finally pull his cock out of you, his fingers replace it. You don't stop him from forcing orgasm after orgasm out of you until he's hard enough to fuck you once more.

How could you say no to a man like Joel Miller?

Somewhere along the way, you and Joel take naps together and eat small meals before fucking again. You can't get enough of him. You don't ever want to let him go again.

You want to stay by his side forever.

"The hurricane will be over soon." Joel notes the lighter rainfall outside. "We'll have to leave soon for the job."

"Does that mean we should sleep or…" You chuckle at your own joke and Joel presses a kiss on the top of your head before laughing lightly with you.

"Just promise you won't leave me for dead again." He tells you and you know he's never going to let you live that down.

"I'll think about it." You say with a cheeky grin and Joel retaliates by pinning you down onto the bed, glaring at you.

He's going to devour you for that and you're thoroughly ready to be swallowed whole.

Oh, how you love such a dangerous man…

a/n: this was really fun to write! I'm sure you noticed, but this oneshot kind of acts like a possible prologue to a canon-divergent series where you replace Tess on Joel's trip with Ellie. will I actually write a whole series? who knows! but I think a little prequel like this would be a nice dabble into the idea! should I write it? hehe

if you enjoyed this read, maybe you'll enjoy my other joel oneshot: trouble! thanks again for reading ~

#joel miller x reader #the last of us fanfiction #joel x reader #the last of us #joel miller

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ezgee-badally · 7 months

Text

-PINNED POST- (This entire Post is OOC)

-PLEASE READ WHOLE POST BEFORE INTERACTING-

18+ NSFW

MINORS GTFO

Actual Real-Life Homophobes, Transphobes, Racists, Rapists and Misogynists Fuck off and die! This is fantasy only. I’ll find out who you are and block you.

Asks are welcome from anyone. If you’re a curious Dom looking for tips or a Sub who wants to have some kinky interactions but want to stay anon, anyone with pussy is welcome for kink interactions too regardless of gender. Read more about my boundaries and limits below before submitting any questions or you may be ignored.

28 Cis Male, Canadian, Dom

GENERAL TRIGGER WARNINGS: I regularly include in my stories kinky and MADE UP/NOT REAL/ FANTASY depictions of Sexual Assault, Misogyny, Homophobia, Verbal abuse and Physical abuse. I add specific trigger warnings to my individual stories. If you feel triggered by something you read and I forgot to put in a warning please DM me and let me know.

I call myself straight but My sexuality is that I like pussy and I’m not really picky about whether the person who has it is a man or a woman. I do like Tits but also don’t care if you’re flat. Really, I have no set “Type” I like both femme and masc presenting people. Tomboys are just as hot to me as girls in cute dresses or tight outfits as an example.

My Boundaries are firm with strangers, I understand if you make mistakes or misread the pinned post but you get 1 warning before I block. Friends and Mutuals I’m a bit more forgiving with. But will still block if they push too far.

This blog just gives me a place to get shit out of my system. I volunteer a lot of my free time to support 2SLQBTQIA+ spaces and programs, but there’s been some internalized misogyny that has come up that I’m trying to deal with in a healthy way so it doesn’t get in the way of my volunteer work. Part dealing with that includes this blog.

I don’t have a crazy sexual history it’s just very diverse and I’ve experienced a variety of things. I’ve played out some Dykebreaking scenes a few times with consenting adults IRL it’s intense and takes planning and it is very draining but intensely hot and rewarding. I’m into more than just into Orientation play but that’s mostly what this blog will be.

I like writing, and I sext a lot. So this kink blog thing was just a natural extension of that.

NOW FOR THE IMPORTANT SHIT!

✅Into Roleplay, CNC, Orientation Play (Dykebreaking, Misgendering, and occasional Acebreaking), Humiliation, Cuckolding other men and/or Cuckquean, Abduction, Anon kink, Public Sex, Drugged/Intoxicated, sometimes Hypno is fun, Breath Play, light Impact play (No tools), Light Bondage and occasionally Anal. Very hot when women/girls call me “Daddy” but I’m not seeking out a DD/LG dynamic or into age-play. I’m sure there’s more, will edit as things change.

⚠️Soft Limits (Things I’m not actively Into but will explore with a TRUSTED partner or TRUSTED mutual.) are… Somno, Foot Stuff, Heavy Impact Play (w/tools such as whips or paddles) Complex Rope Play (Needs practice), Object Insertion, Lactation, Kigurumi, Impregnation

🛑Hard Limits:

Forced Feeding, Scat, Piss Play, Snuff, permanent Injury/disfigurement, Infantilism, Haematomania, Knife Play (I’ll use a knife or scissors to cut off your clothes if you want just don’t ask me to cut you.)Furry Play, Necrophilia, Beastiality, and Age Play.

When I begin a post or DM with “OOC:”it means I’m talking “Out Of Character” as a human being outside of the fantasy.

When I begin a post with “IC” it means I’m talking “In Character” almost all my posts are In Character, you will only see me specify this if It is a post where I switch back and forth between OOC and IC and have to clarify.

Example:

OOC: Be safe, Practice Rack. Fuck homophobes.

IC: Dumb dyke whore. How does it feel cumming on your rapists cock?

I will only share Private messages/DM’s on my blog if it has been previously agreed between me and the person on the other end of the DM’s.

If you don’t tell me a specific safe-word when we start interacting we use the stoplight system by default. If you have a preferred safe word then tell me.

GREEN = Yes keep doing that

YELLOW = Take it easy or be careful.

RED = IM SAFEWORDING STOP RIGHT NOW

LAST OF ALL! BE SAFE!

Safety Tips:

- Subs, Learn boundaries from more experienced Sub’s so you can learn the difference between abuse and kink.

- New Subs should read “The New Bottoming Book”

- New Doms should read “The New Topping Book”

- Don’t doxx yourself for any reason.

- Stay anonymous online

- Be aware of the risks of sending pics and giving out your name.

- Practice RACK (Risk Aware Consensual Kink)

- If you are going to do something potentially dangerous then be aware of the potential dangers and put safeguards in place to minimize them.

#lgetsd #dykebreaking #orientation play #dyke correction #fucked str8 #break me #rough cnc #good girls make more good girls #corruption kink #choke play #pinned post #boundaries #hard limits #consent #fakeboy correction

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wangxianficfinder · 1 year

Text

In the mood for...

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1. hi, in the mood for wangxian university au that contains homophobia ^^ in the mood for those realistic pain that i can relate to as someone who lives in a conservative asian country :') thank u!!

Syncopation by Nyatci (E, 13k, WIP, WangXian, WWX/WX, College/University, Singer WWX, Friends With Benefits WWX/WX, Good Guy WX, Exes Wangxian, Exes to Lovers, WangXian Endgame, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Sex, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, lots of flashbacks, Non-Linear Narrative) might be a good fic - for now it's only 1 chapter, so it's hard to say, but still.

(I should’ve known) I always knew by ilip13 (E, 58k, WIP, WangXian, Modern AU, Misunderstandings, Unreliable Narrator, Sexuality Crisis, Friends to Lovers, First Time, Developing Relationship, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, POV WWX, Please read the author's note for more info, Eventual Happy Ending, Gray-Asexuality, Demisexuality, Masturbation, Dom/sub Undertones, Rape Fantasy, Anal Fingering, Barebacking) and its companion fic

Pan - We're queer here! Series by IBurbick (E, 158k, WangXian, NieLan, 3Zun, Coffee Shops & Cafés, Modern AU, Everyone lives, Everyone Is Gay, Because it's a queer café, cooking magic, Homophobia, Food Porn, Eventual Smut, Mental Breakdown, Dissociative Episode, POV Alternating, POV Multiple, Panic Attacks, Slow Burn, Music Theory, Verbal Fight, Fist Fight, supportive friends, Bullying, Madam Yu's A+ Parenting, Adoptions, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Hand Jobs, Mutual Pining) is a Modern Coffee Shops & Cafés AU that might contain some of what you want; LXC’s vegan café is a beloved neighborhood hub for the queer community, but also a target for homophobes.

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2. Hello! Could you please help me find fics where WWX and LWJ receive each other's injuries and killing one would kill the other, ala Love Between Fairy And Devil? I know this is sometimes a soulmate au trope so I looked through your Soulmate comp and I did find one that I loved: Nothing You Confess by Porcupine Girl (LWJ feels it when WWX loses his golden core). Can you think of any others where they share/feel injuries? Thank you so much!!

Side By Side Suicide by scifigeek14 (T, 2k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Soulmates, Character Death, Major Character Injury, Blood and Injury, Non-Graphic Violence, Angst, Not A Fix-It, Unhappy Ending) I have one of my fics for number 2. but warning cus its NOT happy. They dead.

🧡 Talking is Better than Silence by blackcatkuroi, KuroiWrites (blackcatkuroi) (T, 227k, WIP, WangXian, XiChengQing, Communication, Fluff and Angst, What-If, Canon Divergence, Resentful Energy is a Thing, Musical Cultivation gets Center Stage, Honesty, Myth Making in Action, Soulmates, Cultivation Healing is Expanded, Lore Creation Story, Completed and Regular Updates, Any Rated E for Extra Sexy scenes posted as separate CODA chapters)

Lovescars by ardenrabbit (M, 62k, WangXian, JC & WWX, demi lwj, Bi WWX, aroace jc, Self-Harm, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, POV Multiple, Blood and Injury, PTSD, roughly follows the nove, lAngst with a Happy Ending, Canon Parallel)

The Price of Forever by Witch_Nova221 (T, 22k, WangXian, NieLan, XuanLi, Action/Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Canon Divergence, Blood and Injury, Magic, references to still birth, References to Child Loss, Implied/Referenced Torture, Implied/Referenced Murder, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Happy Ending, Found Family, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers)

Sunder by naqaashi (E, 32k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Soulmates, Golden Core Reveal, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, WWX Has a New Golden Core, Heavy Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Denial of Feelings, Mutual Pining, Emotional Sex, Porn with Feelings, PWP, Light BDSM, Fix-It, POV LWJ, YLLZ WWX, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Top/Bottom Versatile | Switch WangXian, Light Dom/sub, Explicit Sexual Content, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Grief/Mourning, Five Stages of Grief, Suicidal Thoughts) it is super angsty, but I promise it has a happy ending!

~*~

3. I'm in a mood for ace spectrum wangxian, either one or both! I'd like them to be sex positive or neutral but won't mind sex repulsed either.

#1 in this post has some ace spectrum fics you might like ^^

💖Let Them Eat Cake by Vamillepudding (G, 7k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Romantic Comedy, Light Angst, Asexual Relationship, Getting Together)

you've ruined my life (by not being mine) by cicer (E, 132k, WangXian, Developing Relationship, Modern AU, Idiots in Love, Awkward Flirting, teenage romance, Shameless WWX, slowburn, Demisexuality, references to lqr's a+ parenting, references to jfm's a+ parenting, references to yzy's a+ parenting, bottom LWJ in chapter 15)

your touch in the dark (your voice in the silence) by beesinspades (M, 13k, WangXian, Modern AU, Friends With Benefits, Busker!WWX, Musician!LWJ, Mutual Pining, Pining while fucking, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Strangers to Friends With Benefits to Lovers, Happy Ending, Sexual Content, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Top/Bottom Versatile | Switch WangXian, Asexual WWX, Demisexual LWJ)

~*~

4. hello <3 for in the mood for, may i ask for fics like in stunted, starving juvinility, in that Lan Qiren actually develops a bias TOWARDS wwx, maybe even dotes on him a little? that would be amazing askdjkfd

Accidental Uncle Acquisition Series by deliciousblizzardshark (G/T, 13k, WangXian, LQR & WWX, Modern AU, Single Parent WWX, Good Uncle LQR, Accidental Uncle Acquisition, Found Family, Kid Fic, Soft WangXian, Matchmaking, Fluff and Humor)

The Untamed: For the Love of Two Boys by YenGirl (Not Rated, 181k, WangXian, XuanLi, ChengQing, 3Zun, LQR/SiSi, Single minded LZ, Caring WY, Supportive lxc, Supportive LQR, Prickly JC, Sweet JYL, Good JZX (Peacock), Badass WQ, Cinnamon roll WN, adorable a-yuan, Supportive NMJ, Redeemed JGY, Evil JGS, Supportive Madam Jin, Evil XY, Rescued SS, Supportive Lan Healer OC, Accupuncture, Golden Core Reveal, Yunmeng sibs reconciliation, Implied mpreg jokes) I think he gains a bias in this one it's been a while since I read it

藍色的花，紅色的蘭 {Lan se de hua, hongse de lan} by Admiranda, AshayaTReldai (M, 45k, WIP, WangXian, Orphan WWX, Friends to Lovers, Childhood Friends to Lovers, Childhood Friends, softer lqr, Good Uncle LQR, Good lan clan, Good Older Sibling LXC) Lan Qiren adopts WWX as a child in Yiling initially out of need to repay a life debt, but comes to love him in his own right over time.

Just Say Yes series by edenwolfie (M, 338k, wangxian, canon divergence, matchmaking, pining, cloud recesses study arc, getting together, fluff, humor, hurt/comfort, everyone lives au)

🧡 All will be well when the day is done by abCEE (T, 76k, wangxian, time travel, canon divergence, fix it, not YZY friendly, not Jiang friendly, butterfly effect, no sunshot, madam lan lives, lan WWX) WWX gets kind of adopted by LQR

~*~

5. Dear mods, I hope all of you are doing fine these days. Also, I have come again with an interesting request. For the next ITMF, are there any fic with playboy LWJ. And with that, this humble thank you

the earthquake in the room by phnelt (E, 39k, WangXian, College/University, Modern: No Powers, Canada, Getting Together, Mentions of lwj/others, inter-faculty romance, strangers to lovers to frenemies to lovers, mostly book characterisation)

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6. For the next ITMF post: We are deliberately told next to nothing about Mo Xuanyu in canon. I’d like to read some good fics that flesh out his life in the period before the Sacrifice Summon—growing up in Mo Manor, adjusting to the Jin Sect (and his father), returning to Mo Manor, etc. and so forth. Can be any sort of POV or characterization of him, just interested to see what people have come up with.

Too gone to stay by Aenya (T, 31k, WangXian, WWX-centric, Canonical Character Death, in non-canonical ways, Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death REVERSAL, Canon-Typical Violence, novel canon, Pre-Relationship, Happy Ending) has some backstory for mxy, although it’s set in an AU

~*~

7. Hey! This is an IITMF request.

Fics where so many people have crush on / like WWX. (Bonus if the fic is from their pov)

- LWJ being a vinegar jug. @utxqia

~*~

8. Hi!!! I read most of the fics of xuexiao on ao3 and now I want to ask if anyone knows any good fics that aren't on ao3? Prefer it to be a happy ending for xuexiao and not have xuexiaosong or songxiao. I don't mind it to be a little dark or manipulative but I don't want their relationship to be completely toxic / one-sided or forced in anyway. Thank you~~

~*~

9. hiii i’ve never done this before so forgive my mistakes… i think this is how this is done… for the next ‘in the mood for’ post, could you guys find fics where the Lans are protective of WWX? Either post-resurrection or a canon divergence where wwx comes to the Lan sect early pre-sunshot, im not picky… thanks in advance!!

Life Series by scifigeek14 (T, 65k, WangXian, Weddings, Shotgun Wedding, (But not cus of a baby because of politics), Canon Divergence, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fix-It, POV Alternating, POV Third Person Limited, Devotion, Feelings Realization, Family Feels, Politics, Golden Core Reveal, Marriage Proposal, Marriage of Convenience)

What Becomes of the Melting Snow? Series by Admiranda (T, 7k, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, Supportive LXC, lxc putting in his character development, Supportive Sibling LXC) is a work in progress series where post canon Lan Xichen puts in a lot of character development and drags his clan along the way to become good to WWX.

one of our own by glitteringmoonlight (G, 7k, WangXian, Post-Canon, POV Outsider, 5+1 Things) also 9 is a fic about many members of the Lan Clan protecting WWX

🧡 rain falls and soaks into the earth series by RoseThorne (T, 43k, WangXian, WIP, Near Death Experience, Attempt Drowning, Madam Yu Bashing, Recovery, No war AU) (link in #16)

~*~

10. This might be a weird ask, but I want a Wangxian fic that also has Jiang Cheng getting some sort of happiness or a Yunmeng sibling reconciliation

there's the Yunmeng Bros reconciliation comp

some good mistakes by Lise (T, 18k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Post-Canon, Road trips, rescue Missions, Hurt/Comfort, Awkward Conversations, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, [Podfic] some good mistakes by kisahawklin)

Rotten Work by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 63k, WangXian, WWX & JL, Post-Canon, Protective WWX, Protective JL, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, Reluctant Matchmaker JL, [PODFIC] Rotten Work by sakizar)

Living by WithBroomBefore (G, 15k, WangXian, JC & JYL & WWX, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, POV LWJ, WWX Lives, JYL Lives, Family Feels, Crying, Suicide Attempt, just the one though, Healing, Sad with a Happy Ending, Minor Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort)

Regrets by antebunny (G, 37k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Time Travel, Fix-It, Temporary Character Death, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Descriptions of Love, and other squishy feeling, Angst with a Happy Ending)

Grave dirt by esama (T, 92k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Found Family, Pre-Slash, canon-typical corpse desecration, Questionable approach to cutivation, Cultivation Sect Politics, Fix-It of Sorts, canon typical genocide mention, Yílíng Wèi Sect)

maybe you'll take the long way home by surething (T, 25k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Getting Together, Tenderness, Yearning, Character Study, Introspection, fun uncle wwx, bitch boy lwj, Found Family)

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11. For the next itmf I was wondering if you had any 3zun fics where JGY gets severely injured when NMJ kicks him down the stairs? I would prefer novel canon over CQL canon but I’m okay with anything. Thanks!

Different Paths to the Same Route by JustAWanderingBabbit (T, 184k, jjin guangyao & lan xichen & nie mingjue, 3zun, lan wangji & wei wuxian, canon divergence: AQ becomes XXC and SL’s first disciple)

Dream of the Gold Chamber by JustAWanderingBabbit (T, 8k, Implied 3Zun, Referenced canonical incest, canon violence, Canon Divergence, Crack Treated Seriously, Dream a Little Dream, XY is a turd, He might still be redeemable, JGS is not redeemable.)

Jin Guangyao + Chronic Pain Series by crypticidentity (Varied, 15k, XiYao, HuaiYao, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Chronic pain, Hurt no Comfort, Fluff, POV JGY, JGY-Centric)

angstymdzsthoughts post may yield further fics

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12. Wei ying gets 33 lashes

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13. I can't remember if this has been asked before, but I love a good time loop/Groundhog Day fic. I remember one with LWJ stuck in a loop where WWX always ends up dead, and I feel like I read one once where JC was the one stuck in a loop, but there have to be more than that, right? Any from WWX's point of view? Someone else? Thanks for your help!

Wearing Down Every Bone by CSHfic, VSfic (E, 30k, WangXian, Groundhog Day, Time Loop, Temporary Character Death, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Case Fic, Curses, Pining, Getting Together, Time Travel, Night Hunts, Hurt wwx, Mystery, Angst with a Happy Ending, Use Your Words, Mutual Pining, Depression and Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, gratuitous use of empathy)

see you yesterday by glyphic (M, 138k, WIP, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Ghost Hunters, Time Loop, Case Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Memory Loss, Angst with a Happy Ending, Slow Burn)

the cycle of regret by KouriArashi (T, 14k, WangXian, Groundhog Day, Fix-It, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Alternate Canon)

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14 Hi! For the next in the mood for post, do you have some fics where wwx has a complete meltdown that everybody wants him for something or blames him for smg and he's just like fuck you all, screams it out and leave the sects to be? Thank you so much, you guys are awesome!

Fuck This Shit, I'm Out!!!!! by WiFi_Stalker (Not Rated, 6k, WIP, WangXian, XianQing (platonic), Canon Divergence, A-Yuan time travels, Oblivious WWX, pining LWJ, BAMF WWX, not for jc fans)

Enough! by Jeeny271196 (Not Rated, 5k, WIP, WangXian, Gūsū Lán Sect Bashing, Jiāng Family Bashing, JC Bashing, LXC Bashing, BAMF WWX, Cultivation Sect Politics)

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15. ITMF Lan Wangji wielding Suibian or WWX wielding Bichen in battle (or walking around a conference or something), and them shocking the polite cultivation world for it. Thank you for any suggestions you can give!

when you're doing all the leaving (then it's never your love lost) by tardigradeschool (T, 26k, wangxian, canon divergence, hurt/comfort, canon-typical violence, sharing clothes, sharing a bed, fix-it, golden core transfer) sadly i barely have anything to contribute to the latest itmf except for one (questionable?) rec for 15. Has one (cool) scene of wwx wielding bichen.

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16. ah hello wonderful mods!! I am interested in any and all fics that have a scene of wangxian running into each other's arms (kind of like the canon scene of wwx jumping from the tree into lwj's arms). thank you for your hard work!! @yourancestorsarefrowning

🧡 rain falls and soaks into the earth series by RoseThorne (T, 43k, WangXian, WIP, Near Death Experience, Attempt Drowning, Madam Yu Bashing, Recovery, No war AU)

❤️ The Absolutely True Story of the Yiling Patriarch: A Manifesto in Many Parts by aubreyli (T, 20k, wangxian, In-Universe RPF, Romance Novel, Post-Canon Fix-It, primarily drama-canon with cameos from novel-canon, The Absolutely True Story of the Yiling Patriarch: A Manifesto in Many Parts by aubreyli [Podfic] by Rhea314 (Rhea))

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17. i'm curious if there are any fics where nobody (or mostly nobdy) knows the yiling patriarch and wei wuxian are the same person? thank you

only the dead (have seen the end of war) by comforting_monachopsis (T, 42k, WangXian, Temporary Amnesia, BAMF WWX, Sad LWJ, Grief/Mourning, Mild Gore, Medical Inaccuracies, Secret Identity, Loss of Identity, Identity Porn, The Science of Cultivation, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, Angst and Humor, Crossdressing, WWX is Bad at Feelings) is a great fic where even wei ying himself forgets who he is after coming out of the burial mounds, and wears a mask so no one recognizes him.

my life's journey is far from over by thelastdboy (E, 148k, WangXian, Modern AU, Canon Divergence, Madam Lán Lives, JYL Lives, WQ Lives, Post-Sunshot Campaign, POV WWX, Slow Burn, YLLZ WWX, Hurt/Comfort, Modern AU but not too modern™, mlm/wlw solidarity, Kink Negotiation, Kink Exploration, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, WWX Lives, Mental Health Issues, References to Depression, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Burial Mounds Ensemble as Family, Single Parent WWX, Selectively Mute LWJ, Eventual Smut, Light Dom/sub) It's the second fic in a series but can be read alone (totally recommend both, though!) And it's more the aftermath of the war. WWX struggles sometimes with being alive, so proceed with caution if necessary.

Imperfect Memory by xantissa (E, 61k, WangXian, dub con, Dark FantasyAU, double identity porn, sub!LWJ, Drama, Forced Orgasm, tiny bit of blood play, Prostate Massage, D/s themes, Falling In Love, mature LWJ, Magic, multiple OC characters, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Porn, Identity Porn, Dubious Consent, Happy Ending, Falling In Love Again, Angst and Hurt/Comfort)

If You Love Someone by CoatWrites (T, 28k, WangXian, Rule 63, Fem!LWJ, Fem!WWX, Perceived Major Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Misunderstandings, Light Angst, Happy Ending, Inspired by Princess Bride, Mistaken Identity, mention of past mercy killing, mention of past cannibalism, mention of past torture by a main character, Mention of food insecurity, Attempted Arranged Marriage)

🧡#WarPrizeJiSeason by PorcupineGirl (T, 15k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, YL WWX, Warprize LWJ, Yiling Wei Sect, Mistaken Identity, Identity reveal)

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If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic recs #i'm in the mood for a fic #the untamed #wangxian fic search #wangxianficfinder #long post

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virgo-mess · 3 months

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Silver Thread- Chapter 9 Part 1

At last, we have made it to the final chapter of Silver Thread which I've cut into two parts for length purposes. Be on the lookout for part 2 which should be uploaded after this part has been up for a while. My plan thereafter is still the same there will be a short fluffy smutty epilogue set about 5 or 6 weeks after the events of this chapter. I will try to get Silver Bells up and ready before the month lets out it is in the spirit of Valentine's Day after all. I am still aiming for 6 shorter chapters with that story and a decent length epilogue, but I've decided to leave Veda and Terry's story a little more open ended, so I have space to revisit them in the future. Expect some one shots and glimpses into their lives after the events of these stories in the future guys!

I appreciate those of you who have made it this far. This story ended up being way bigger than I originally intended back in September, but I'm not mad about it. It's hard to believe I basically wrote a novel in five months, but here we are. I hope you enjoy where this story has ended up as much as I have with all that being said get to reading and enjoy all the different head spaces we get to dwell in and the vague back stories we get for our trusty sidekicks in this chapter!!!

TW: Missing people that have somewhat been presumed to be murdered, mentions of assault both violent and sexual, detailed descriptions of injuries after a traumatic event, brotherly cry sessions, meddlesome and emotionally abusive parents, one mention of an inappropriate relationship with a minor it's very brief but it is there, lots of tears guys and I'm sorry if any of you shed a few, tender moments to boot, sidekick backstories and I think that's about it for this part guys.

PS: I hope you mobile readers appreciate my choice in emoji scene dividers 🤭

Terry’s Pov

Terry let out a long sigh, trying not to look as bored or as worried as he felt as Walter Getty droned on and on about all the models and beauty queens, he met at whatever event he went to months ago. Terry was more than aware he was just trying to pique his interest on at least one of the airheads he was talking about, he hadn’t missed the way Walter overtly ogled at Veda the minute he spotted them across the ballroom or the way he’d been brazenly trying to woe her all night. Terry had been keen to let Walter snake women he was no longer interested in out from under him in the past because it beat having the dreaded breakup talks, soothing the onset of waterworks that were sure to ensue as a result of said talk, and saved Milos and Margaret the trouble of answering and delivering the disgruntled messages his past connections would leave for him. But Veda wasn’t someone he’d ever let slip through his fingertips.

“I think you’d really like Miss Brazil, Miss Mexico, or both I know you aren’t really a one girl kind of guy after all, Terry.” Walter said obnoxiously, Terry resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he stared back at Walter with a steely eyed glare. The jazz music swelled indicating they were now taking the last bids for the auction items and winners would soon be announced. Terry couldn’t help but anxiously search for a flash of Veda’s tiny little burgundy dress, he had been dying to get her out of that dress since she popped out of the closet in it, even more so after her giving him the greenlight to finally take their relationship to the next level. After those words fell out of those plump little lips of hers, for a moment Terry thought he was dreaming again. Veda had been dwelling in his heated dreams for months now and even when they finally started dating, they rarely ever stopped even though she’d be lying right on his chest. She filled his thoughts, dreams, and heart Terry knew that if he lost her his world would never make sense again.

“Look, Walter, in the past I’ve let you think that you had successfully swindled a long string of women out of my clutches, but I assure you if I wanted any of them to still be on my arm they would be. I see my generosity has made you a little cocky, so I’m going to say this once and if you continue making my sweet Veda uncomfortable after I’ve said it Larry, and I are both going to have a little talk with you and I’m sure you know how those little talks go. Don’t you Walt?” Terry asked forcing a polite enough looking smile on his steely face, Walter pursed his lips finally shutting up for the second time tonight as he slowly nodded his head.

“Take it easy, Terry, I meant no offense. Veda is a very beautiful girl you know but she’s not really the type of girl your father would approve of now is she. I mean, sure, she’s a lot smarter than a majority of you past flames but at the end of the day she’s just a regular girl who doesn’t have a penny to her name. I can’t believe you even put that ring on her finger, have you even introduced her to your parents yet. I just thought I could spare you both the heartache, I mean it’s not like your dad is going to let you marry her anyway. I could take really good care of her you know” Walter said with an aura of mock sincerity in his tone, Terry’s expression hardened, and he leant a bit closer to Walter with a sinister look in his blue eyes.

“My father doesn’t have a say in what I do or who I marry, and you and Julia are more than welcome to tell him that because Veda isn’t going anywhere lest of all with a disgusting predator like you. Did you think I didn’t hear about you knocking up that poor little girl, Walt what was she fourteen, you paid off her mom and dad to keep it hush hush so they wouldn’t press charges. If you touch a hair on Veda’s head believe you won’t live long enough to pay me off. You can tell my parents I don’t really care if they ever meet her or approve of her because it won’t change the fact that she’s the woman I am going to marry. You tell them, if they want me to get back to them on that dinner invite sometime within the next decade, they’re just going to have to accept that. So, when my Veda comes back here you will not ogle at her again, and you will not try to talk her up if I feel her so much as shift uncomfortably into my side one more time tonight. Walter, I will not help fund your museum and I won’t be generous enough to warn you about what’ll be coming for you. Larry adores Veda as much as I do and he will do whatever it takes to help me protect her, now I know you remember Larry and what he used to do back in Texas very well, Walt. Don’t you?” Terry said in a hushed, menacing tone. Walter leaned away from him slightly, and Terry was more than happy to see fear swirl in his beady little eyes, anyone that thought they could threaten her spot in his life deserved to feel that way and he couldn’t wait to finish what he started with the last people that dared to do such a thing. Walt nodded frantically.

“Yes, Mr. Silver, I apologize. I didn’t realize that you and Miss. LaRusso are so set in stone. I’ll be sure to let your father know that you actually…” Walter for once seemed to be at a loss for words he looked around the gala with weary eyes. Terry once again let his eyes search for Veda and Margaret, they should’ve been back now, the lines to the ladies’ room were always ridiculous but the head of the Foster Care organization had already got through announcing a fair chunk of the winners after making his speech. Terry resolved to go look for them after he got through to the gross Walter Getty.

“Love her, Walt, I love Veda and you can tell my father that though you might have to pull out a dictionary for him because I doubt he knows what that word really means. Now, if we have come to a little understanding here, I’d like to go look for my sweet girlfriend and witty secretary. You better count yourself lucky though Walter if Margaret had heard anything you had just said in the last few minutes, she’d have your head on a platter right now” Terry said coolly, Walter looked at him with an unreadable expression for a long moment as the organization announced Margaret Spencer as the winner of an all-inclusive trip to Hawaii. Terry searched again for any glimpse of deep burgundy or navy blue in the sea of people, he finally rose to his feet as the man announced Margaret’s name two more times before setting her prize aside.

“Terry, your father cares about you I know he doesn’t show it that well, but he talks about you all the time you know, misses you even” Walter said lowly, Terry brushed him off with a curt, humorless chuckle before heading off in the direction his sweet girl had disappeared to. Terry was sure she was probably just adorably gaping at the ceiling somewhere, but he still wanted to make sure she was okay and to tell Margaret she won a trip to Hawaii. Terry chuckled softly to himself as he neared the near deserted restrooms just off the ballroom, if Margaret had just asked, he would’ve happily given her an all-inclusive trip as part of her Christmas bonus. She, Larry, and Milos definitely deserved a great trip for sticking with him through this amazing seven-month rollercoaster he had taken them on. He was glad to see they seemed to be enjoying it just as much as he was through, they doted on Veda almost as much as Terry did these days.

“Veda, Margaret are you okay?” Terry asked, cracking the restroom door open a smidge hoping Veda’s honey like voice would float out at him and ease some of his nerves. He called one more time before letting the restroom door close shut gently.

“There are other restrooms on the second-floor balcony, as well as the ones down in our new Reserve bar downstairs. It’s very beautiful down there, I’ve noticed that your date gapes at all the architecture, it’s really the cutest thing and she’s so sweet. You can reach both the balcony and the Reserve by main staircase or the elevators” a very kind venue attendant caught his attention as she motioned towards the elevators and elegant staircase with a polite smile on her face. Terry flashed her one back for paying Veda a nice compliment out of the blue, but Veda seemed to have that effect on everyone they came across. Terry wished he could assume everyone had the best intentions with his sweet girl, but he knew that wasn’t the case which is why finding her now was imperative for him.

“Thank you, Miss” Terry responded with a courteous smile of his own, the attendant nodded her head in acknowledgement and gave him a small wave farewell. Terry ventured a little further down the hallway and hit the elevator button anxiously, he was sure Veda and Margaret were fine, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was amiss as he stepped into the elevator swiftly. He decided to act on the advice of the attendant and pushed the button for the Reserve room downstairs, hoping to find his little angel marveling at another paining innocently. Terry was so glad her meeting with the USC dean of admissions went so well, though Veda had no idea that the grant and the scholarship the dean was referring to were ones he’d be funding anonymously. Terry had come to realize Veda wouldn’t accept him paying for all of her schooling no matter how much she loved him, she had a thirst for knowledge, independence, and wanted to make her own path. Terry found that trait of hers incredibly endearing and deserving of admiration, Veda was one of the few people in the world that didn’t care about his money and Terry thought that was what made her the most deserving of it. She had sacrificed her time and happiness for her selfish little brother, the least Terry could do was give some of it back to her, he knew one day she might figure out he was behind it all. Terry hoped by then it would be too late for her to do anything about it if she ever tried to pay him back he’d simply put the money towards something else she desperately wanted

The elevator doors slid open to reveal a very elegant looking evening bar with gilded ceilings and a large vault door that led to a second room with two glistening chandeliers. Terry stepped out of the elevator feeling a bit more confident that this was most likely where Veda and Margaret disappeared to. He knew her well enough to know this was exactly the type of room that might induce one of her adorable little doe eyed marvel sessions. Terry walked toward the circular vault entrance and peered into the room, there were quite a few gala goers sat on the leather sofas, but Veda and Margaret were not among them. Terry felt the hairs raise on the back of his neck as his blue eyes desperately searched for a single spot of burgundy in the dimly lit room, he could hear the swell of more lively music in the floor above him before it died down completely. The shrill ring of the telephone near the bar cut through the dull chattering of the few guests sat on the sofas, the bartender answered it rather quickly and Terry could infer something happening upstairs was indeed amiss. The bartender’s dull brown eyes swirled with the slightest hint of fear in the red tinted lighting above them. Terry straightened out a bit, taking a few steps towards the bar when the bartender put the phone back on the hook with a curious look in his eyes. The bartender’s shift in demeanor and the abrupt cut off of the music in the ballroom had Terry’s heart swelling with concern almost immediately, his eyes were still flicking across the room and back through the doorway he just walked to for a flash of Veda’s soft black curls. Terry neared the bar trying not to sound as anxious as he felt as he watched the bartender frantically flit around behind the gilded bar, almost like he was closing for the night.

“Sorry, sir, you’ll have to place your drink order back up in the ballroom the Reserve will be closing for the remainder of the gala so if you could please head back upstairs” The bartender said dismissively, Terry tensed giving him a steely glare in return as he watched him fumble some beer bottles into a bin.

“May I ask why” Terry said flatly, he didn’t miss the nervous way the bartender’s lip twitched as his frantic hands hastily cleaned off the bar top. His anxious brown eyes glanced behind Terry for a moment before settling on his face, Terry had seen that expression a few times before. There was some emergency upstairs that the staff was doing their best to conceal, once it was over, they’d feed guests some random story about technical difficulties so they wouldn’t tarnish their establishment’s reputation. This only served to make Terry more anxious as Veda and Margaret were nowhere to be found, all the other event rooms were closed off there were only a few other places they could be. Terry supposed he could do another sweep of the ballroom before heading up to the balcony, if they weren’t there that only left the lobby and if they weren’t in the lobby Terry didn’t know where he and Larry should begin to look.

“Just protocol, sir, nothing to worry about. You and your friends enjoy the rest of your evening, the one with the slings looks like he could use a good time and a strong drink” the bartender said trying to lighten the mood with a tight smile. Terry furrowed his brows at the bartender, his mind was still trained on finding Veda so he couldn’t bring himself to think about what or who he might be referring now.

“What, no, I’m down here looking for my girlfriend and my secretary. Have you seen this girl?” Terry asked quickly pulling his wallet out of his pocket he pulled out one of the polaroid’s he had taken this weekend, he hated the way the bartender’s eyes practically lit up as they peered down at the picture. If Terry wasn’t so desperate to find Veda right now, he’d have no trouble knocking the guy silly for ogling at her picture so overtly.

“Wow, I can see why you’re desperate to find that one unfortunately, sir, I haven’t seen her and believe me I’d definitely remember her” the bartender said with a smirk, Terry glared back at him blankly before tucking the photo back into his wallet gingerly his mind was reeling as it thought of what could’ve possible happened to his little angel. The bartender flashed him an apologetic sort of smile with something resembling pity swirling in his eyes.

“You and slings aren’t having the best night, huh, the other kid looked like he’d been through it too I’m surprised security even let him in with those muddy jeans he’s wearing. I’m not supposed to give out anything else once I’ve closed down the bar but here. Just don’t tell anyone where you got it from” he said handing Terry an unopened bottle of Macallan scotch, Terry furrowed his brows trying to process what the bartender was really saying as he took the scotch from him. Terry’s face hardened as he finally registered who the young bartender could possibly be referring to, Chad Johnson was undoubtedly the only person within a twenty mile radius that happened to have both of his arms in a sling. Part of Terry’s payback for Chad’s misdeeds at the pier a number of weeks ago was to make sure the kid couldn’t touch anything, a dislocated elbow in one arm and a slight fracture in his other seemed sufficient enough to get the lesson to really sink in. The added restraining order and getting him kicked out of Berkley was just a means to rub salt in the wound, a bonus to the extensive list of misfortune Terry Silver had single handedly caused him. Terry let out a low growl as his blue eyes darted across the near empty Reserve bar trying to catch a flash of Chad Johnson’s mangled golden boy locks. Terry’s lesson must not have sunk in if Chad Johnson was already in violation of his restraining order, Terry felt his heart sink into his stomach as he thought of who Chad had brought with him tonight.

“What did the kid in the muddy jeans look like and do you happen to know where they might be?” Terry asked coolly, keeping his tone nice and even though his blue eyes were blazing as they bore into the bartender intensely.

“Um, he’ about five foot nine with sandy brown hair and brown eyes they came down here not too long ago asking if I’d seen a tall guy with a ponytail which I can only assume is you, sir. I’m pretty sure I just spotted them in the lounge area just outside this door” Terry turned away from the bartender without uttering another word and rushed back into the lounge to find Chad Johonson and a disheveled looking Tommy Russell by his side. Terry watched their frantic looking eyes sweep around the empty lounge before settling on his tall looming figure across the room. Terry could tell they were anxious by the vein slightly bulging on the side of Tommy’s neck and the way Chad refused to meet his sinister gaze. Terry stalked towards them with an unreadable expression on his stony face taking the way Tommy put his arms up like he was waving a white flag from across a war zone.

“Look man, we’re not here to start anything with you, alright. I’m sorry about my behavior at the pier there’s no justification for what I did” Tommy said looking up at Terry with frantic but sincere looking brown eyes, Terry maintained his stony expression trying to decide if the look was actually sincere or if Tommy was just acting.

“And what can we attribute this shift in your moral compass to, are you missing your Camero’s pristine paint job, or did Dutch not pay you enough for the intel you gathered at the pier” Terry said flatly, Tommy sighed giving Chad a gentle nudge to the ribs, but Chad kept his eyes trained on the floor and let out a long-winded sigh of his own.

“I was the one that told Dutch what happened at the pier, Tommy asked me not to tell him, but I did it anyway so if anyone is to blame for what happened and what is happening now its me. I’m so sorry, I didn’t think…” Chad trailed softly, Terry cocked his head to the side looking between the two boys for a long moment as he pondered exactly how to respond. He hadn’t been expecting to get an apology and as much as he hated to say it, he wasn’t the one they owed an apology to.

“I’m not really the one you should be apologizing to, I’m not the one who wakes up from nightmares every night and I’m not the one who had to completely uproot my life to get some semblance of safety back in it. Why are you even here, surely you know you’re violating that restraining order you earned yourself don’t think a half-assed apology is going to keep me from calling the cops. I don’t take people upsetting and threatening my girl lightly and neither does my staff” Terry said coolly, noting the very serious yet frightened expression that spread across both boy’s faces he could faintly hear some sort of commotion happening on the floor above them. Terry never let his eyes stray from the offending pair taking in the sudden shift in their body language as they heard the commotion too.

“Look, sir, we know it might be hard to believe that you can trust us but you’re going to have to if you don’t want Veda getting hurt tonight, alright. Dutch is here and he’s gone completely insane he was saying a ton of crazy shit before he attacked me with a stun gun. I don’t think… I mean he was vague, but I think he wants to kill Veda tonight and if he doesn’t do that, he wants to…” Chad trailed looking back at him with serious looking green eyes, Terry stiffened feeling his heart plumet into his stomach once more. He searched for a tell nestled in the pair of green or brown eyes in front of him, but he couldn’t find one. Each pair had nothing but genuine concern and sincerity swirling within them as they stared back into his blue ones. Terry let out a shaky breath as it dawned on him that Dutch had most likely gotten to Veda and Margaret already; a large grandfather clock’s melodic chimes rang above them just as a blood curdling scream ricochets throughout the otherwise quiet venue. Terry felt the blood drain from his face as his took off towards the grand golden staircase to his left he’d recognize one of Veda’s horrified screams anywhere. They often echoed through the still halls of the Ennis House in the wee small hours of the morning, they had the power to pull Terry out of even the deadest of sleeps. The gleaming chandelier that hung over the staircase resembled the gleaming Christmas lights Terry had strung up in their bedroom as he ascended the staircase as fast as he could. He could hear Tommy and Chad’s faint pattering feet behind him as he reached the top of the staircase only to be met with a sea of horrified gala guests impeding his jaunt to save Veda from the monsters that plagued her past. Terry shoved past as many guests as he could, paying no mind to how rough or how gentle he was being as he pushed his way to the lobby.

Terry sank to the ground in despair, watching the malicious red taillights disappear, the last time he felt such an overwhelming amount of torment and anguish he was locked in a cage. The police sirens were wailing all around him, but he couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge any of it, he sat on the ground and pulled his knees into his chest. He vaguely felt Larry or Margaret place a comforting hand on his shoulder, but he kept his eyes trained on the ground trying to comprehend why he wasted so much time intimidating Walter Getty surely if he had left the conversation when he wanted to Veda would still be by his side, Margaret wouldn’t have a concussion, and they’d all be happily dancing in the ballroom right now, probably discussing a way for everyone to go on Margaret’s all-inclusive getaway. Terry’s despair quickly shifted to a realm of unadulterated anger, mostly at himself for not seeing that he should’ve taken Dutch out first instead of wasting his time dishing out petty grievances to Tommy and Chad. Dutch was always the bigger threat to his sweet Veda; he never should have underestimated the sick kids’ ability to pull off a successful kidnapping he spent so long assuring Veda this wouldn’t happen and just when she started to believe him it did. Terry felt his heart twinge with guilt and did his best to keep the tears brimming his blue eyes from pouring over, he had to fix this he had to save Veda and he had to do it now.

“Mr. Silver, Margaret and I are supposed to give our statements but how about you and I can go looking right now Chad and Tommy gave me a list of places we could start.” Larry said in his deep Texan vibrato just as the chief of police approached them, Terry looked at the officer sharply as he slowly rose to his feet finally finding a strength he couldn’t when he was in the hellish cage. Assessing for the first time that he couldn’t find it then because nothing else mattered to him this much back then, he had nothing to live for and now he did.

“I want every cop in a hundred-mile radius on this case now, once Margaret gives you her statement one of your officers needs to take her home to rest. Larry and I are going to drive around and look for them” Terry said firmly, the chief of police gave him a weary look.

“I know you’re all a bit on edge right now but let the police do their job we have to question everyone here first including both of you.” The chief tried to reason, Larry gave him a discerning look and took an intimidating step forward.

“No, we’re going to start looking first and then you’ll get your statements. What we have now is a CLEAR alert, chief, one we wouldn’t be having if your department did your job weeks ago when that little girl went to you asking for a restraining order against the kid that just violently abducted her. Now I don’t know how they do things where you’re from, chief but where I’m from we don’t take little girls being dragged by their hair or being abducted at knifepoint lightly. Since your department messed up we’re going to do this our way, get over there, do your job, and send out an alert for Veda LaRusso. Margaret here will give you all the extra details and then you’ll take her home just like Terry Silver told you to or your badge will be on the line understand.” Larry said vehemently, the chief took a meek looking step back and nodded his head frantically.

“Yes, sir, I’m sorry there appears to have been a miscommunication down the line. The call said there was a violent person on the premises, we weren’t aware the situation escalated before we got here. I’ll send out the alert right away, I just need her age, a description of what she was wearing, and a description of what she looks like and the vehicle he took her in.” The chief said pulling out a pen and paper.

“Nineteen, burgundy cocktail dress and sheer black tights, she has black hair, brown eyes, and is about 5 foot 2. The car is a light blue Cadillac Fleetwood, Margaret can you tell them anything else they need to know” Terry said softly, Margaret looked at him with an uncharacteristic pleading blue eyes Terry sighed looking at the white bandage sticking out from under her light blonde hair. He knew she was gearing up to fight him on his stance, if she wasn’t hurt, he might consider letting her tag along, but she was, and Terry didn’t want to think about what might happen to her if he and Larry did successfully hunt down Dutch. It was very clear Dutch had no woes when it came to hurting women in general and Terry didn’t think he could handle losing another important woman in his life tonight he was already dreading the phone call he would surely have to make to Lucielle LaRusso soon.

“Mr. Silver, the paramedics said I’m fine, I can help you and Larry search” Terry shushed her and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, Margaret’s eyes were still pleading but her shoulder untensed at the feel of his hand.

“Margaret, please, I need you to go back to the Ennis house and rest for now. If Veda gets away, home might be the first place she’ll go and what if she’s hurt and can’t get in, Milos is there but he doesn’t know what’s happening.” Terry said softly, Margaret narrowed her eyes at him Terry could tell she caught on to what he was really doing and why he was doing it, but he was relieved to see her urge to fight him on it slowly evaporate from her sad, pale blue eyes.

“Okay, promise me you’ll call if you find out anything or if you want me to call up some of Larry’s friends from Texas alright” Margaret said firmly, Terry nodded his head and gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder and something resembling a reassuring smile before he followed Larry to the car.

“Hey, tall guy, wait” Tommy Russell’s voice came flooding towards Terry just as he opened the Rolls Royce door, Terry glanced over at Tommy’s approaching figure before deciding to meet the kid halfway. He figured he at least owed him and Chad something for their change of heart even though none of this would’ve happened if they had just left Veda alone that day on the pier. Even Terry had to admit this outcome was partially his fault too, if he hadn’t wasted so much time dishing out petty grievances instead of dealing with the biggest threat to his and Veda’s little Eden none of them would be in this situation right now. Tommy panted softly under his breath as he handed Terry a crinkled piece of yellow paper with sloppy writing scrawled on it.

“This is a list of all the places Dutch likes to hangout in the top half are his favorite places in general, the middle ones are where he likes to do his drug deals, and the bottom half is the list of properties his family owns as well as the places his dad does reality for. I couldn’t get the full list of course but I gave that older lady the number of the office he works out of so she can call as soon as they open.” Tommy said, Terry looked down at the long list and felt his stomach churn uncomfortably wishing he knew the best place to start.

“Thanks kid, uh, you don’t have to worry about your spot at Berkley it might be too late for me to get Chad back in, but I can pay for the damages I made to your Camero and tell Chad I’ll pay him the money he already wasted on tuition…” Terry said softly, Tommy flashed him a weary smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes though Terry didn’t really expect it to. Terry was surprised to see how quickly his perception of Tommy Russell had shifted within the last half hour. Behind his brown eyes he could see a semblance of the youthful innocence he saw in Veda’s; it was the same kind of innocence that lived in Twig’s eyes in what felt like a lifetime ago. Terry often wondered if anybody could still see it in his eyes even now though he felt like Veda was proof that some of it still lived within him.

“Don’t worry about that, sir, this is all my fault anyway. I was just being a jealous idiot at the pier and tonight even I should’ve asked Dutch more questions before I even agreed to give him a ride and I’m sorry. I really hope you guys find her, Veda is a wonderful person, and she deserves to be happy. I’m glad she seems to have found that with you…” Tommy said sincerely, Terry sighed letting a large hand fall on top of Tommy’s shoulder with a soft sort of expression on his face. Terry had seen this a scene like this play out a lifetime ago only he had been the one receiving a strong brotherly hand on his shoulder from a tall guy with a ponytail.

“Terry, you can call me Terry” he said, watching Tommy’s brown eyes light up, and a real smile graced the boy’s face as he stuck out a hand towards him. Terry grasped it with his free hand as the pair shared a look of understanding and respect.

Larry drove off into the LA night, his grey eyes were trained on the road while Terry’s blue eyes would flick from the list of potential locations that Tommy gave them and the dreary LA cityscape. They drove from Hollywood to Pasadena and then from Pasadena to Encino, turned over every stone possible but found nothing, not even a single trace that either Dutch or Veda had been there or would be there. Terry grew more and more anxious with every abortive stop they made, Larry pulled the black Rolls Royce in to a dimly lit gas station around 2 am and killed the engine. They’d been driving in a tense silence for the last hour or so only speaking when it came to directions or to decide which place to go next. Terry sighed throwing his head back against the seat as he crossed off another location on the crinkled sheet of yellow paper in his hands. There were only a handful of stops left on the long list and he wasn’t sure what he would when they finally hit them all and Veda still wasn’t back in his arms, he felt Larry’s weary grey eyes linger on him for a long moment, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at him. Instead, he trained his blue eyes on the payphone lit up near the gas station building, he knew Lucielle LaRusso’s phone number by heart now, but he was sure she was sleeping by now. Terry had been dreading this phone call since they left Hollywood, he hadn’t worked out how to tell Lucielle exactly what happened tonight. How he failed her and Veda so greatly in the span of a few hours, how to tell her there was a possibility that neither of them would see her daughter alive again. Terry felt tears well in his eyes for the second time tonight and this time they were closer to spilling over because Lucielle was another one of the few important women in his life.

“I’m sorry kid, this is all my fault I should’ve never let him walk out that door with her, but he had that knife against her neck and I just… I didn’t know what to do” Larry sighed out with a slight crack in his deep Texan drawl as he stared out the windshield with watery grey eyes. Terry placed a firm hand on his forearm but still couldn’t bring himself to look at the slightly older man because the tears finally spilled over just as Terry was digging through his pocket for a quarter or two.

“Don’t say that Larry, you did the best you could do given the circumstances, and I can’t say I would’ve done anything differently if I were in your shoes. I mean I couldn’t even break her window because I was afraid, I’d hurt her, a few cuts would’ve healed up just fine, but this won’t if anyone failed it was me and she watched me do it.” Terry said lowly, he felt Larry place a callused hand on top of his own in a brotherly manner that was reminiscent of the hands Ponytail and John used to place on him. Terry repressed a sob as Larry clasped another calloused hand on the back of his neck and pulled him in for a brief hug.

“You didn’t fail, and Veda is not gonna to think you did and her mom’s not gonna think that either, I wish I could tell you everything is gonna be alright kid, but I can’t. What I can tell you is that didn’t fail her or anyone else, to hell with what your dad tells you, to hell with what anyone tells you. We’re gonna get through this together, I promise, just breathe” Larry in a soft firm tone and trailed his thumb in soothing circles on the back of Terry’s neck, the two softly cried together for a good while until Terry finally calmed down enough to pull away.

“You alright” Larry said softly, he didn’t remove his hand until Terry nodded his head uttering a soft ‘Yeah’. Terry took a deep breath wiping the last of his tears on the sleeve of his burgundy blazer and giving Larry a half smile through the dim orange yellow glow that was flooding through the car’s windows.

“Good, here’s a couple of quarters do you need me to go with you?” Larry asked seriously wiping away a few tears of his own before handing Terry a handful of quarters. Terry shook his head as he accepted the handful of quarters from him gently.

“No, it’s alright you can gas up and then we’ll get going.” Terry said opening his door slowly and stepping out into the cool summer air.

The later morning hours crept in quickly, but Terry wasn’t tired, he knew he’d never rest until he found his Veda, or his body gave out on him and shut down. He wasn’t sure which option was worse, it had been nearly seven hours since Dutch Howard ripped his sweet girl out of his clutches, there were so many horrible things he could’ve done to her by now and every passing hour decreased the likelihood of finding her alive. Terry felt his stomach churn uncomfortably as Larry silently pulled the car through the Ennis House gates, he didn’t think he could live in a world without her in it. Terry caught sight of a very anxious looking Margaret and Milos in the entryway as Larry threw the Rolls Royce in park for the first time since they made a stop at the gas station some time ago. Terry silently stepped out of the car, not waiting for Larry to come around and open his door for him for the first time in a while and sluggishly made his way up the concrete path.

“Morning, Mr. Silver, the authorities did inform us that they have Mr. Howard in their custody, but Veda wasn’t with him when they got him. He is insisting he doesn’t know where she is but the shoes, she was wearing last night were with him and um there was quite a bit of blood on his clothes. Chief Ramsey sent it out to get tested, but it’ll be a while before they get the results and other than that Mr. Howard is refusing to talk. You still have a board meeting scheduled for this morning and if it were any other day, sir you know I’d cancel but we postponed it for you take your trip….” Margaret said just above a whisper, Terry sighed not meeting her gaze as he walked past to her and into the entrance hall the house seemed so cold, so lifeless without Veda here with him to light it up.

“Cancel it, after I clean myself up then I’m heading back out to find her. Larry, go get some rest I can take the Corniche” Terry said, trying not to acknowledge the fact that Dutch Howard was currently sitting in a station interview room with Veda’s precious blood as he ventured up the stairs.

“Mr. Silver, I’m sorry but I can’t let you miss this one, you know Marcus is after your chair as CEO and you not showing up will be all he needs to get signatures on his petition” Margaret said frantically, Terry brushed her off and rushed down the loggia and into the lifeless master bedroom he busied himself with a quick shower and opted for a casual summer suit to really drive the point home. Margaret sighed when Terry emerged from the bedroom with a stony-faced Larry by her side.

“Sir, I don’t mind driving you really you know I can function on just as little sleep as you can, but Margaret is right. Do you think you could at least make an appearance at the board meeting for appearance’s sake? You don’t have to stay the whole time I’m sure even Marcus could understand you cutting the meeting short. If our results turn up unsuccessful today you know I have Wild Bert on speed dial” Larry asked softly, Terry sighed looking between them for a long moment before training his eyes on his shoes.

“Mr. Silver, I’ll be here to listen for the phones so I can deliver messages if anything important comes up and having Margaret at the office would be a great thing too, we’ll have all our bases covered, don’t you think? I gave Larry my pager to use when the meeting is over” Milos said encouragingly, Terry sighed again feeling a bit defeated, they weren’t wrong sparing a few minutes to chew out Marcus wouldn’t take that long, and he and Larry could be back on the road within twenty minutes. At least by then there would be more businesses open and more people out and about on the streets of LA on their morning commute. If Veda was lost at least, she’d have somewhere to take shelter or call, Terry ignored the twinge in his chest at the thought of someone stumbling upon her in such a vulnerable state. He was considering calling up Wild Bert and his crew just to be her security detail if he, when he found her.

“Fine but let’s make it fast alright and we should still take the Corniche because that’s a car Veda will recognize immediately if she’s still…” Terry trailed calmly before descending the stairs and rushing to the garage, he couldn’t bring himself to even think the rest of that statement as he tossed Larry the keys and sat in the passenger’s seat. The ride to Dynatox felt like an eternity without her by his side, when she was there time seemed to move differently his nights and days revolved around her because she was his sun and his entire reason for being now. Terry threw his head back against the seat the top was still down because Veda loved feeling the golden summer sun on her perfect tan skin. Terry’s blue eyes took in the current state of the gloomy LA sky, it hardly ever rained during the LA summers but today it looked like it might forgo its natural inclination and weep for once. If that happened surely, they’d weep together in mourning for the loss of the warmth that radiated above their days and somehow managed to swaddle them at night. Veda had only been gone a few hours, but Terry already felt so cold, so unbelievably hallow as Larry finally pulled up to the building of course it had to be the one he first laid eyes on her in.

“Margaret, please tell all the board members to come down to the lower-level conference room today. Have the car running in twenty minutes if you can, Larry” Terry said just above a whisper, he didn’t think he could handle walking past her empty desk right now or to stand in the elevator they shared their morning ritual in. He could barely handle stepping out of the car and walking up to the gilded doors or forcing himself to walk past the gleaming elevators. He could hear the click of Margaret’s pumps on the white tiled floor behind him and for a second his mind told him it was Veda. All the people floating around the lobby seemed so cheery and Terry began to consider he might never feel that level of happiness again, he even rudely brushed off the custodian and one of the girls that worked in the buildings Cafeteria. Terry felt bad about the dejected looks that swept across their faces it’d been over seven weeks since he had so much as raised his voice at anyone in this office building. Yet another way Veda had positively influenced his life before her he knew his employees only showed up because he paid them well. At least a lot a better than what his father, William Terrance Silver used to pay them if he knew Terry had been happily closing the office to celebrate things with Veda and giving everyone end of the year bonuses, he’d have a heart attack. He was sure he was having one right now because Walter Getty would’ve informed him about the little chat, they had last night before Terry’s world was stolen from him. Terry just hoped Bill Silver wasn’t impeding on Milos’s campout in front of the landline by blowing up the phone, he was sure Bill would be popping over soon he just hoped Veda would be home and safe by then.

Terry wordlessly wandered into the corner conference room, sat in the chair at the end of the table, set his watch timer, and then let his blue eyes gaze out the large window.

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Third Person Pov

Margaret sighed watching Terry bark something indistinguishable into the custodian’s face it had been quite some time since he snapped at any office personnel, she felt her heart twinge as Terry apathetically stalked into the corner conference room.

“Mr. Silver is having a rough day today; I’d suggest giving him some space for a while. I’ll be sending out a fax later to let everyone know but you might as well get the word out that all problems be brought to me first and I’ll relay the messages to Mr. Silver, alright.” Margaret said softly, the custodian and the café worker nodded their heads in acknowledgement.

“I’m sorry ma’am but one of the café windows is broken and we thought someone might want to take a look” the girl said, Margaret nodded as she hit one of the elevator buttons.

“I’ll have a look at it just as soon as I get the board members to the corner conference room down here, alright” Margaret said dismissively as she stepped into the elevator, rounding up the board members was surprisingly quick even though Marcus Hilton looked like he was ready to bite someone’s head off. Margaret made sure to tell him setting Terry off today wouldn’t be in his best interest especially when Terry was already looking for a reason to get him kicked off the board.

“Sure, whatever you say honey” Marcus said condescendingly, he stepped around Margaret to get out of the elevator once they reached the lobby. Margaret narrowed her eyes at the older man and didn’t make an attempt to hide the sneer on her face, Marcus Hilton had used any array of nauseating pet names for her since she started working for Mr. Silver. Any other day she might be keen to ignore it but today wasn’t one of those days, today she was stressed, overworked, over tired, and nursing a mild concussion from Dutch’s frenzied elevator attack. Margaret stuck her foot out before Marcus could make it past her and watched as the lengthy, grotesque man nearly toppled to the ground.

“Sorry, honey, I guess I should’ve mentioned I’m not one you want to set off today either. The love of Mr. Silver’s life was kidnapped at knifepoint last night Mr. Hilton, he and Larry are itching to get out of this building as fast as they can to locate her and if you’re going to stand in either of their way, surely even you know, they won’t hesitate to take you out permanently. I know I don’t have to remind you who Lawrence is and what him and his friends from Texas do but I am warning you that I’m headed up to Mr. Silver’s office to call Bert as soon as I escort you and the other board members to the corner office. Now it is up to you to decide if you want me to have them add you to their little list Mr. Hilton, understand” Margaret said sharply, Marcus Hilton audibly gulped frantically shaking his head.

“Of course not, Ms. Spencer. I apologize for my tone, after you” Marcus said not meeting her eye as he stepped out of her path, Margaret gave him a tight smile and swiftly glided out of the elevator.

“Glad we have that sorted, follow me” Margaret said nonchalantly, her black pumps echoing through the titled lobby as she led the staggered group of posh board members to the corner conference room.

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The telephone ring cut through the silence of the Ennis house sharply, Milos jumped slightly and set down his third cup of fresh espresso and made his way across the living room. He and Margaret had been up all night trying to get an old police scanner they found in one of Veda’s unpacked boxes up and working, they had found out the cops had Dutch in custody and the chief called early this morning to keep them updated on how his interrogation was going. Milos thought it was a curious thing for her to have packed away under an array of her childhood stuffed animals but considering the events that unfolded last night it didn’t seem quite as curious to him now. He wished he had accepted Mr. Silver’s invite to the gala, if he had he could’ve been there to escort Veda and Margaret to the bathroom while Terry was occupied.

Milos picked up the phone off the receiver hurriedly, hoping to hear some good news that would lift the ominous gray clouds that currently loomed over the Ennis House. It felt like mother nature was also mourning today, truly uncharacteristic of the normally sunny California summers. This was the happiest summer Milos had seen Terry Silver have since he had started working for the young billionaire some eight years ago. He, Larry, and Margaret put up with his often-outrageous demands and misdeeds because underneath it all they knew, Terry Silver was just a young man, a child really forced to face the world of the elite alone. The money, the parties, and the models didn’t change the fact that Terry Silver was above all else, a lonely man. Sure his friend John Kreese made an appearance once in a blue moon but sometimes Milos got the sense that Mr. Kreese only showed up because of a sense of moral obligation.

“Hello, Terry Silver’s residence” Milos spoke into the phone, his eyes trailed about the lifeless house for a moment noting the absence of the golden hues that usually streamed through the stained glass windows.

“Hello this is Chief Ramsey; I believe you and I spoke on the phone last night” the Chief’s gruff voice came from the other end of the telephone. Milos didn’t miss the deep, defeated sounding sigh that the chief breathed out after he finished his statement, Milos felt his heart sink into the pits of his churning stomach. Any hope he had of receiving even a smidge of good news dissipated and he let out a deep, defeated sounding sigh if his own.

“Yes, I believe we did, I’m assuming you have an update on Mr. Howard’s interrogation. Has he…” Milos trailed; he knew the word he wanted to use but using it would mean acknowledging the fact that Veda LaRusso might be gone forever. That he might never hear her infectious laughter floating down the loggia or see her darling smile as she greeted him in the morning. The chief sighed again, and Milos could hear him faintly clicking a pen on the other end of the phone.

“No, sir, he didn’t confess, he’s been sticking to his story that she got away from him and wandered off without her shoes. He wouldn’t say why she would do that, but the analysis of the vile Chad gave us came back positive for GHB. Kids are using it to party now, but its primary euphoric effects make the users more compliant, sometimes even incapacitated especially if it’s mixed with alcohol. If his story is true Veda might have gotten away but the drugs in her system would’ve left her confused, she might have ended up in a situation she couldn’t get out of. I still have officers searching the park for any more clues and they’re questioning people in the area but that’s not what I called about…” The chief said softly wishing he had called with good news, Milos let out a mild sigh of relief at the fact that Veda might not be lost forever, they still had a chance of finding her.

“Well, what did you call about then Chief Ramsey. Finding Miss LaRusso should still be your top priority and if you have Mr. Howard in your custody there should be nothing standing in your way” Milos said, trying not to sound as annoyed as he felt but he couldn’t help but feel like the LAPD were wasting precious time. Milos couldn’t see the chief settle his forehead into the palm of his hand on the other end of the phone

“I called to tell you, Dutch Howard, won’t be in our custody much longer…” this time Milos didn’t try to hide his annoyance or outrage as he cut the chief off sharply.

“Why on earth would you be letting that animal go! A room full of people saw him drag a little girl by her hair and hold knife to her neck!?” Milos fumed, wishing he could knock over one of Mr. Silver’s expensive vases he surely wouldn’t mind after Milos got this ridiculous update to him. The chief sighed again clicking his pen a little bit faster on the other end of the phone, the chief had expected this type of reaction because he had handled reactions like this time and time again in his line of work. That still didn’t make the process any easier, delivering bad news was the worst part of the job.

“I’m sorry, sir, I really am but we didn’t have a choice. The kid’s dad came in with the best defense lawyer in the county and he readily pointed out that Mr. Howard was no longer committing a crime when Officer Ewing arrested him. It didn’t help that Officer Ewing roughed him up a bit before he got him here but even if he hadn’t, we had nothing to hold him on. We can’t prove he killed her anymore than we can prove that he let her go unharmed the most we could get him for was stealing Tommy’s dad’s car and violating his parole. I don’t like it anymore than you do believe me if there was more, I could do, I would. The best we can do is hope he is telling the truth and that we find her before he does, the kid did have multiple wounds from a stun gun. I’d say she put up a hell of a fight even if…” The chief said letting out another deeply dissatisfied sigh, Milos pursed his lips rummaging through his pocket for his car keys.

“How long do we have before you release him” Milos asked sharply.

“I can do my best to hold him up for another hour, maybe two if Officer Ewing can dig something up.”

“That’s all we need, chief, thanks” Milos said, placing the phone back on the jack.

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Margaret hurriedly rushed the still astonished group of obnoxious board members into the corner office, Terry was sat at the end of the large rectangular table with his chin propped in the palm of his hand. It’d been a while since Margaret had seen him show a hint of defeat in such a manner, his expression mirrored the one he wore in those first few months Veda had started interning for Dynatox Industries. Equal amounts deeply troubled and hopelessly longing, Margaret wished the circumstances surrounding the two were the same. That darling Veda was just playing hard to get and that she’d come bounding in to give him a stern talking to. Margaret watched the board members take in Terry’s attire with deep looks of pity in their beady little eyes as they sat around the large table almost meekly.

“Thank you, Margaret, before you leave today do you think you could fax the file that’s sitting on my desk over to our shareholders” Terry said lowly, Margaret nodded in acknowledgement.

“I’ll do that as soon as I head over to the Café. Apparently, someone…” Margaret trailed furrowing her eyebrows in confusion as she thought over what she was about to say. Terry looked at Margaret with an almost hopefully glint in his eyes as he watched her pause for a moment in deep contemplation, he recognized that look. It spread across her face when she thought or noticed something she hadn’t before, an ‘a ha’ moment in the truest sense of the expression.

“Someone what, Margaret” Terry said softly, he saw an unsure look flick across her features before she slumped her shoulders. She couldn’t utter the thought she just had after seeing such a hopeful look dance in Terry’s melancholy blue eyes and she was sorry to have put it there for even a second. Now she just felt silly for even thinking, darling little Veda, would ever do such a thing when she flew into a rather adorable panic over breaking on of Terry’s porcelain teacups the other day. Terry had to distract her with a proposal to go out for ice cream, Margaret let a sad smile grace her lips as she looked at Terry for a moment. Ice cream seemed to be one of Veda’s favorite comfort foods, Margaret often caught Veda begging Terry for ice cream with her big brown puppy eyes. Margaret had suggested that Terry simply keep some in the house, but Terry said he liked seeing how happy going out to a local shop made the little darling he then described how adorable she looked every time she tried to decide what flavor she wanted.

“Nothing, sir, someone broke one of the windows in the Café. I’m sure it was just some vandal, I’m heading up to call a repair team now and I’ll get that fax out for you right away” she said, Terry slumped his shoulders almost instantly he too thought there was no way his sweet girl would ever do such a thing even on a bad day she couldn’t drop a teacup without an adorable rambling apology.

“Oh, I see, thank you Margaret” Terry said softly finally settling his eyes on the board members in front of him. “Alright, Marcus, make this quick” Terry said harshly, Margret watched Marcus Hilton stumble to his feet for the second time today before swiftly retreating back into the tiled lobby. She didn’t really see a point in inspecting any of the damage the broken Café window had caused, she simply headed toward the elevator and pushed the button. The elevator gave a soft ding as she reached the 15th floor and the door softly slid open to reveal a rather loud bunch of Dynatox employees. Margaret wasn’t surprised, she was sure the morning news did some sort of broadcast of the current CLEAR alert out for Veda Noelle LaRusso this morning, she just hadn’t found time to watch it.

Margaret trudged through the office feeling that her lack of a good night’s rest was finally catching up to her as she neared Zoe Mitchel’s desk. The slim blonde was staring at the heaps of flowers already placed on Veda’s desk with tears briming her honey brown eyes, Rob had placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and was rubbing soothing circles on her back. His sandy brown hair was tousled more than usual, and his usually cheerful green eyes looked incredibly somber, he like Zoe had heard the rundown of the horrifying events that had transpired last night on the morning news. He had quite nearly dropped a streaming pan of scrambled eggs on his bare feet when Zoe let out a high-pitched shriek and knocked over the gargoyle statue, he had sitting on the coffee table shattering it into a million pieces. Zoe had been itching to get rid of that sculpture since they started dating and Rob always knew she’d cook up a way to get rid of it in that cute little head of hers eventually, but he wished the events surrounding the death of his beloved statue were much less depressing.

Zoe stared at Veda’s empty desk and felt like her whole world was crashing down around her sometimes she wondered how she and Veda had become so close in such a short amount of time. Before Veda started working at Dynatox Zoe spent most of her days and lunches alone in the office, she had never gotten around to making many friends aside from the occasional small chat she made with Rob over the past two years she had worked here. Sometimes Zoe couldn’t help but wonder where she and Rob would even be if Veda had never come along and pushed them together. Surely, they’d still be secretly pining after each other and Rob may have never told her he loved her at the top of the Ferris wheel at the Santa Monica pier. In a lot of ways Zoe felt like her life had only begun when she and Veda became friends, contrary to what people believed Zoe was never the popular girl in school. She mostly kept to herself during those awkward adolescent years, any friends she did have during her youth were still living in her small hometown of Leavenworth Washington and her years spent at UCLA weren’t much different. Zoe had already been dreading what her days were going to look like when Veda would be going to Cal-Tech full time in the fall but at least she’d know where she was and that she’d at least be seeing her on the weekends and during her school breaks.

“Oh, Margaret, are you okay? We heard what happened on the news how is everything going?” Zoe asked softly, Margaret sighed giving her a weary look as she stopped in front of her desk.

“I’m alright dear, just a bit tired, the cops have Dutch in custody but he’s insisting he doesn’t know where Veda is. Terry is having a hard time, so he and Larry are going to go out looking for her again in case Dutch isn’t lying by chance. Veda’s mom is driving down from Fresno, she should be arriving within the hour other than that, we know next to nothing I’m afraid we’re in for a long day of waiting” Margaret sighed, peering through the glass window of Terry’s still office. His office door was only slightly ajar which Margaret thought it was odd because Terry now had the habit of leaving the door wide open even though Veda would often be sat doing paperwork right beside him.

“Oh, Margaret, it’s all so awful and now having to sit and wait to find out if she’s okay or not. I can’t believe people are putting flowers on her desk already like she’s really…” Zoe trailed letting out a deep melancholy sigh she didn’t foresee herself getting much work down today. Sitting at her desk and going through environmental files was tedious enough on its own but now having to do it while she looked across the room at her missing best friend’s desk all day felt like more than she could handle emotionally and mentally. Margaret sighed again seeming to pick up on Zoe’s line of thinking, she really didn’t see the point in making everyone stay when Terry wasn’t going to be here to give out his tasks of the week.

“It’s alright Zoe, I think I’m just going to send everyone home for today, so you and Rob are free to go if you’d like. Could you get the word out before you go?” Margaret asked softly, Rob and Zoe nodded in acknowledgement.

“Yeah, we can do that, but we’d rather stay with you today if that’s alright” Zoe said softly, Margaret gave her a brief reassuring smile before peering into Terry’s office once more. She could make out that the ominous grey clouds were beginning to let the LA summer sun peek through, the golden rays streamed across the grey tonal carpet on his office floor and under one of the black leather sofas he had put in a few weeks ago when Veda joked that he needed comfier office furniture. Margaret smiled wistfully at the memory her blue eyes were still trained on the still office as the golden stream crept a little further to the right and illuminated something glittery next to one of the sofa’s legs.

“That’s perfectly fine, darling, I just have to get something faxed for Mr. Silver, make a call, and then we can be on our way. I’m sure Larry and Mr. Silver would appreciate a few more hands” Margaret said, squinting her eyes a bit to see if she could make out the glittery object sitting under the leather sofa as she walked toward his office door and gently pushed it open. The clicking of her heels softened as she entered the quiet office and strolled over to the couch to pick up the glistening heap off the fabric covered floor. Margaret bent down and scooped the object into her hand, she took a few more steps into the office as looked down at the object. She let out a soft gasp and she trailed her thumb over the diamond chain gingerly before settling it on top of the 6-carat tear shaped ruby pendent in the middle.

🕶🐴🕶🐴🕶🐴🕶🐴🕶🐴🕶🐴🕶🐴🕶🐴🕶🐴

Milos swerved in and out of traffic lanes with expert precision ignoring the disgruntled yells and honks of LA patrons as he sped down Hollywood freeway with the windows of his Porche 944 Turbo. Back in Black by AC/DC was flooding out of the windows and above the rev of the engine, Milos gripped the steering wheel a bit tighter as he let his foot press down a little harder on the gas pedal on instinct. The Porche was a late Christmas present from Terry last year, he left a cheeky little card encouraging Milos to relive the stockcar races of his youth through Milos had left that life behind him long before Terry ever hired him. The only remnants of his racecar days were a few trophies shoved in the back of his closet in the servant’s quarters above the Ennis House garage, along with his extensive collection of black leather biker jackets.

Milos threw on his black sunglasses as the grey clouds finally parted for the LA summer sun, he’d be at Dynatox shortly he only hoped he’d arrive before Terry and Larry went out to search for Veda again. He had to tell them Dutch was being released, Milos was never one to get his hands dirty or start a fight even in the young rebellious years of his youth, but Dutch Howard had him seriously reconsidering that prospect. He wasn’t half as skilled as Terry or Larry in the unadulterated violence department, but he could throw a nasty punch when it came down to it and no one deserved a nastier punch than Dutch Howard. Milos sped off the freeway and turned down a series of streets, running a few red lights in the process before he pulled the Porche to a screeching halt in front of Dynatox Industries.

Larry was leaning against the Corniche with a tired but amused half smile curled upon his face and took part of his thick grey mustache with it. His grey eyes watched as Milos cut the engine and threw open the driver’s door wearing a pair of black sunglasses made popular by the Blue Brothers and his usual black suit though his tie was hung loosely around his neck.

“Oooo wee, Speed racer has emerged from his cave and rejoined the land of the livin’, never thought I’d live to see that day. Remind me again why I’m the chauffer, I really wished you had pulled out one of those leather jumpsuits you’ve got buried in the back of your closet. What’s goin’ on, you hear anything from the cops?” Larry’s deep Texan vibrato floated across the sidewalk as Milos rolled his eyes under his sunglasses and shut the Porche door with a soft thud.

“The cops are releasing Dutch” Milos said walking towards Larry with a weary look of his own though it was shielded by his dark glasses. Larry’s face hardened as he glanced over at Milos with a fire blazing in his grey eyes, Dutch Howard was about to have the worst day of his miserable life. Neither of the men standing on the sidewalk thought the kid was going to live to see the inside of a prison cell and even if he did, he surely wouldn’t last there very long the spoiled Cali brats never did. Larry had a few friends over in the Metropolitan Detention Center that didn’t take young woman and girls being abused lightly all Larry had to do was write a letter.

“What, why the hell are they doin’ that” Larry boomed clenching his fists tightly against his sides, Milos let out a deep sigh and took off his sunglasses to look Larry in the eyes.

“The kid’s dad got a hold of Willie Cole, Chief Ramsey said they could hold him for another hour or two hours at the most. I thought we’d all want to be there to greet Mr. Howard on his way out of the precinct” Milos said lowly, Larry raised an eyebrow at Milos as they both made the short walk up to Dynatox’s grand gilded doors.

“Shoot, you coming with us to the rodeo Speed racer?” Larry said slightly surprised, he never really believed Terry when he said Milos used to be a rebellious race car driver. Milos was always poised and polite, the opposite of Larry when Terry met him in a bar down in San Antonio some years ago and hired him on the spot. Why Terry was in that rundown bar was still a mystery, but Larry was eternally grateful for whatever it was that brought the kid there. Larry has been working odd jobs and living out of motels after his grandma passed, Georgia Bowman was the woman that raised him and the only family he had left. Larry always wondered why Milos insisted on the role of being a butler when he clearly knew how to operate a car way better than he could, but Milos was almost as tight lipped about his past as Margaret was.

“Damn right” Milos said, taking a moment to click the lock button on the Porche key fob.

“Well alright then, let’s go get the boss man” Larry said pulling the handle on one of the gold doors, he and Milos shuffled inside the virtually empty Dynatox lobby. Larry had seen a sea of employees shuffle out of the building some time ago, gabbing about the current string of depressing events of the previous night in a manner that was similar to the way his grandmother used to gossip to their neighbor on their front porch during the Texan summers. Larry glanced down at his watch for a moment, he’d give it a couple more minutes before he stormed into the conference room just like Terry had quietly asked him to when Margaret had stepped out of the car. If she knew they were only planning on giving the board members a full ten minutes instead of the full twenty-five they had promised she’d have a cow. Larry could count the amount of times he had seen Margaret Spencer angry on one hand and each time was more terrifying than the last.

👠🏈👠🏈👠🏈👠🏈👠🏈👠🏈👠🏈👠🏈👠🏈

Margaret felt her stomach churn uncomfortably as she looked down at the expensive ruby necklace in her shaky hand, it was the necklace Terry gifted to Veda before they left for the Gala last night. Margaret remembered the way the ruby glistened in the venue lobby as Dutch Howard pressed a long knife into the side of Veda’s neck and the way she helplessly reached for Larry to comfort her. She remembered how time felt like it stood still because it was reminiscent of the way time stood still that night, she was riding along a rainy highway with her husband, George Spencer in the driver’s seat and their sixteen-year-old son, Ben, in the back seat. She was caught in that confusing moment when your body is trying to decide if you’re going to fight, flee, or freeze of course that rainy night Margaret wasn’t given the opportunity to choose though she did freeze when the truck headlights sharply veered toward them. She woke up on the muddy ground sometime later to see their car set ablaze in the unusually heavy London storm. Last night however Margaret was afforded the chance to choose and for whatever reason her body choose to freeze as soon as her blue eyes spotted the iridescent hilt of the knife Dutch Howard held to her neck in the venue elevator. Margaret wished there was more she could’ve done to keep Dutch Howard from finding Veda alone and defenseless in secluded hallway but Dutch wacked her in the temple hard enough that she couldn’t think up a more convincing lie for Veda’s whereabouts.

Margaret ripped her blue eyes off the necklace and looked around Terry Silver’s office in its entirety for the first time since she walked in. Upon closer inspection she noticed some of the files that were previously sat neatly atop his desk last week were now scattered across the gray carpeted floor. Her mind wandered back towards the broken café window and how she considered for the briefest of moments Veda LaRusso had been the one to break it, it would now appear her original line of thinking wasn’t too far off. Perhaps the scum that is Dutch Howard hadn’t lied after all, Veda LaRusso did get away from him and she for whatever reason decided Dynatox was going to be where she was going to take refuge for the night. Margaret let out a shaky breath as she eyed Terry’s desk at the far side of the office there weren’t many places for Veda to be hiding in here though it was possible she was hiding out in another part of the building probably scared half to death. Margaret saw Zoe appear in the office doorway out of the corner of her eye but she couldn’t bring herself to look at her as she tried to detect any movement on the other side of the Terry Silver’s cherry desk. Zoe eyed the older woman curiously as she stood frozen next to one of the new leather sofas Terry had put in his office last week, she looked much paler than she had a few minutes ago.

“Everyone has cleared out for the day just as you requested. Is everything alright?” Zoe said softly, glancing over to see what Margaret was staring at so intently finding that her blue eyes were glued on the desk at the far side of the room. Zoe noticed some paperwork scattered across the floor and thought maybe Margaret had lost her footing while she went to get the files Terry had requested, she fax for him. She had heard Dutch had given the poor woman a concussion last night and decided maybe Margaret just needed to lay down for a few minutes.

“Margaret, why don’t you have a seat on one of the sofas for a minute. You look exhausted, if you just give me the number, I can go fax those papers for you if you’d like.” Zoe said walking a bit further into the office, before Margaret could respond they both heard something resembling a meek whimper float around the room. Zoe stopped suddenly, her caramel brown eyes flicked between the desk and Margaret for a long moment. Margaret finally brought herself to utter the only name that had been on her mind for the past seven hours as she took a cautious step towards the dark brown desk.

“Veda, darling, is that you?” Margaret asked in a gentle tone and another meek sounding whimper sounded in reply this time sounding more frightened than anything. Margaret forced herself to keep her cautious pace as she motioned for Zoe to follow her, Zoe felt her heartrate pick up as they reached the corner of the desk. Both of them now noticed how far away Terry’s rolling leather chair was from the hard brown desk, it was nearly touching the large window that overlooked downtown Los Angeles. The chairs deep brown leather was illuminated by the warm golden sun that had fully emerged from behind the thick gray clouds, the golden hue washed across the grey floor in a way that made Zoe feel like it was guiding them to exactly what or rather who everyone had spent the last seven hours searching for. Zoe stopped walking just before Margaret rounded the desk and fell to her knees with an audible gasp, Zoe felt her stomach twist uncomfortably even with the brief wave of relief that ran through her body.

“Oh, Veda” Margaret gasped reaching out to Veda’s curled form underneath her chosen wooden refuge. Margaret felt her stomach churn as her blue eyes took in the dark purpled bruises and deep gashes that littered her delicate tan skin before fixating on her overly swollen left arm and shoulder Veda’s bloody right hand was currently clutching. Veda was shaking like a leaf as she turned her head to look over at Margaret with terrified brown eyes that didn’t seem to register exactly who they were looking at. The deep golden sun lit her deep brown eyes up enough for Margaret to see her pupils were big, dilated saucers and the whites of her eyes were a bright shade of bloodshot red as they darted rapidly in her sockets seemingly of their own accord. Margaret reached a hand out to wipe the black curls that were clinging to her clammy forehead out of her eyes gently. Veda let out a loud horrified shriek and lurched away from Margaret’s gentle hand like it was a loaded gun, Margaret sighed sadly but ultimately retracked her hand in the hopes that Veda would halt her shrieking.

“Veda darling, it’s okay, it’s safe to come out now…” Margaret said in a soft soothing tone, Zoe finally rounded the corner and felt like she might throw up as she eyed Veda’s tattered black tights from underneath the muddy fabric of her cocktail dress. Noting the way, they were only cut between her trembling legs aside from the tears and runs over her cut knees.

“How… how did she get in here” Zoe said lowering herself to her knees right beside Margaret, who seemed to snap out of her cautious mode of inaction she had to catch Terry before he and Larry left to go search for Veda. They’d surely be leaving soon, she heard Terry planning to run away from the board meeting as soon as she stepped out of the car, due to the circumstances she was going to let his disobedience slide for once and not subject him to a harsh scolding.

“The café window was broken downstairs; we need to catch Mr. Silver before he leaves. Can you help me get her out from under here?” Margaret asked, this time reaching to put a firm hand on one of Veda’s trembling legs a little bit out of her eyesight. Zoe wordlessly obliged but as soon as their hands brushed against one of Veda’s deep cuts, she let out a bloodcurdling scream reminiscent of the one that sounded through the gala venue last night. Zoe and Margaret rushed to soothe her as a frantic looking Rob came bounding into the office to see what was going on. His breath hitched in his throat as he caught a flash of Veda’s mangled form peeking out from under Terry Silver’s desk.

“Oh my god” Rob breathed out, just as Veda’s senseless screaming formed a string of slurred, nearly indistinguishable words as she coiled further beneath the desk.

“No... don’t touch only... Terry… helps me. Want Terry” Veda slurred out between dissatisfied screams, Margaret glanced up at Rob helplessly as she finally retracted her hands and reached up toward the phone that sat on the edge of Terry’s desk.

“He’s in the corner conference room downstairs…” Margaret said to no one in particular as she hit the speed dial button for the glass conference room just off the lobby. The line rang and rang as Margaret tapped her finger on the hard wood of the cherry desk impatiently and anxiously. Rob pulled himself out of his shocked daze, forcing his legs to carry him back towards the office door. His heart was racing a mile a minute.

“I’ll see if I can catch him” Rob called before disappearing out of the office in a hurried frenzy, Zoe proceeded to soothe a now weeping Veda who was still muttering Terry’s name repeatedly. Veda tried to coil away from Zoe’s hands as they reached to pull her muddy dress back down into place for her, Zoe did her best not to burst into tears when she saw how irritated she looked between her thighs right now. Margaret hung up the phone briefly before dialing Chief Ramsey’s direct line, the phone rang all of two times before his rough voice came on the other end of the receiver.

“Chief Ramsey speaking” he said slowly sounding just as exhausted as Margaret felt right now, she glanced down at Zoe and Veda to see Veda had calmed down some, but it only appeared to be because she was in so much pain. Margaret watched her paw at her swollen arm with tears streaming down her battered face and bruised neck, she was still muttering ‘Terry’ between slow shallow breaths and Margaret feared she might slip into a coma.

“Keep talking to her Zoe, don’t let her drift off” Margaret told her in a hushed tone, Zoe nodded and proceeded to ask Veda how her trip with Terry was. She knew Veda wouldn’t answer but hearing Terry’s name made her perk up even in her delirious state.

“Chief Ramsey, it’s Margaret Spencer, I’m calling to tell you we found Veda here at Dynatox, but she’s hurt bad. Can you meet us at Good Samaritan on Wilshire Boulevard?” Margaret said hurriedly, she heard Chief Ramsey shuffling frantically on the other end of the phone, but she didn’t even wait for him to reply as she slammed the phone back on the hook. Margaret knelt back down beside Zoe and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Terry’s coming Veda, everything is going to be okay darling” Margaret said softly.

🏈🏈🏈🏈🏈🏈🏈🏈🏈🏈🏈🏈🏈🏈🏈🏈🏈🏈

Rob sprinted towards the elevator and hit the down button more times than he needed too, he found it extremely annoying how elevators only seemed to take forever when you were in a hurry. The door even slid open at an agonizingly slow pace, Rob didn’t even wait for it to fully open before he slid in and pushed the button for the lobby hard enough to make a dull clicking sound. Rob for once was regretting not being an athlete in high school, he spent more time developing film in his high school dark room than he did playing tag football with his older brothers and sports crazed father. He could hear his dad’s condescending tone already ‘If you had just realized your potential as an athlete Robin, you’d have no problem sprinting down fifteen flights of stairs boy’. Rob tapped his foot impatiently, watching the numbers above the door glow an amber shade of gold one at a time by the time the number two lit up Rob was already backing himself against the elevator wall. A soft ding sounded, and Rob flew out of the elevator and down the ridiculously large lobby as fast as his legs could take him, he paid very little mind to anyone else lingering in the lobby, but he did stop briefly when a deep voice called out his name.

“Rob, slow down before you hurt yourself there” Rob whipped around and instantly recognized the men leaning against some of the chairs in the lobby, he had met them both at Terry Silver’s mansion that day they went to the pier. Rob let out a relieved breath at the sight of Larry and Milos, surely Terry was still sat in the board meeting which Rob would be crashing very shortly.

“Veda… is upstairs in Terry’s office… go” Rob panted, Larry and Milos shared a look of surprise and relief as they watched Rob resume his relay worthy sprint down the long lobby before disappearing around a corner. Rob reached the glass conference room only to find Terry was no longer in it, in fact no one was it was completely deserted Rob let out a breathless groan and bent over slightly to get some air back in his nonathletic lungs.

“Why didn’t I just do football” Rob hissed before turning around and running back down the hall he just flew down.

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There's a shortage of sad pensive Terry gifs from kk3 🫠

Not period appropriate, but this is my mood board for Dynatox.

I don't usually like putting face claims into my stories because I like you guys picturing whomever it is your heart desires. But I want to make it known I'm picturing and hearing Sam Elliot in Roadhouse when I'm writing for Larry now 😂. And now you all get to, too.

#thomas ian griffith #terry silver x oc #terry silver #enemies to lovers #terry silver smut

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doctor-loboto · 1 year

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okay guys grab some s’mores ingredients and turn up the burner because a disabled person is going to get all weird and serious about fandom stuff

Loboto is kind of a deconstruction of the “absent-minded professor” archetype (which is thematically appropriate because all the inmates pretty much fit the mold of “one-dimensional and kind of ableist joke on the surface, actual person on the inside”). Some people think of Loboto as an outlier in the cast who doesn’t portray a person with a specific diagnosis, although this is a less common opinion after Rhombus of Ruin. The Psychonauts series is, on rare occasion, criticized for its exaggerated and unrealistic portrayal of mental illness. I feel that this is because its cartoonish imagery and tone tends to take center stage and the realistic portrayals of mental health struggles, especially in secondary characters, can be more subtle and hard to detect, usually only being picked up on by people with similar experiences.

So this brings us to Loboto’s psychosis/trauma/brain injury (depending on what you personally emphasize in your headcanon, probably a healthy mix of all of three in canon) symptoms. The most obvious ones are excessive anger/irritability and a hyperfixation on teeth that may involve delusions about the role of teeth in the body. But if you look at his dialogue and behavior, you’ll also notice that he seems to have a lot of issues with his memory and situational awareness.

For example, his introductory scene in PN1 where he pauses and asks Dogen why he’s screaming. I’ve brought this up before and explained that I think he honestly forgot for a second what he was doing and why his patient was making so much noise before looking at the evidence around him and remembering. I have memory problems and schizophrenia-related confusion and I’ve forgotten what time of day or year it is, whose house I’m in, why I’m holding a pencil, etc. Loboto may have a lot of trouble keeping information straight, which could be very inconvenient or even dangerous for him considering that he lives largely outside of society and engages in sketchy activity.

In fact, the state of his memory may be the only reason Truman’s brain was able to be recovered. This also could have made Gristol very hostile to Caligosto once he realized the man he chose to carry out his plan could barely remember the instructions clearly. Antipsychotics in particular can make it hard to hold even the shortest amount of information in your head; his brain could have been further damaged by years of overmedication with primitive drugs in Thorney Towers. It’s also interesting that when Loboto is shown trying to remember in the opening level of PN2, he gets frustrated and actually directs his abusive anger towards himself. This leads me to believe that he has self esteem issues regarding his memory and maybe secretly thinks of himself as having a “bad brain”. Caligosto places a lot of importance on his intelligence and scientific accomplishments (“I’m the dentist of the century!”) because it’s one of the few objective things he has to hold onto about his identity that makes him feel good about himself.

If you look at the bigger picture, Loboto isn’t just a villain with a traumatic past, he’s a disadvantaged disabled person who is surviving in the only place that he’s allowed to exist without being medically subjugated, and even that is challenging because of the way his mind works. He’s angry at the Psychonauts for “kidnapping” him and feels that they’re intentionally hurting him and taking away his lifestyle (sidenote: you could read that memory vault as “Loboto is so confident and self-centered that he thinks the Psychonauts are just being mean to him” but it could also be seen as “Loboto sees everyone as a cartoon bully and assumes they want to hurt him because so many authority figures in his life have hurt him and that’s what he expects”) when they actually most likely saved his life because he otherwise would have died prematurely in a lab accident or been killed by an angry client for fucking up.

#caligosto loboto #psychonauts #psychonauts 2 #doctor loboto #psychonauts headcanon #tw abuse #tw self hatred #tw violence #tw death mention #long post

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wishthefish · 1 year

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Did Nie Mingjue abuse Jin Guangyao?

I've witnessed quite some disagreement amongst the mdzs fandom regarding Nie Mingjue's treatment of Jin Guangyao. Such great curiosity plagued me that I decided to kill the cat and examine whether this truly did occur. I will examine inequality, discrimination, abuse and victim-blaming attitudes within this analysis so please don't read on if any of this may upset you.

Abuse: Purposeful violence resulting in, or with the intention of causing physical harm, suffering and/or injuries.

After the cultivation clans gather to discuss Wei Wuxian and Wen Qing's branch of the Wens as a threat, Nie Mingjue expresses disapproval towards Jin Guangyao;

Nie MingJue walked over, "All clever talk - hard work indeed." Hearing this, Lan XiChen smiled but said nothing. Jin Guangyao knew that Nie MingJue would teach him a lesson whenever he found the chance" -Chapter 73

His clear disapproval of Jin Guangyao is rather interesting for he doesn't offer such judgement to the cultivators who used Luo Qingyang's gender as reason enough to ridicule her defence of Wei Wuxian. The Wens are evil, therefore any force that opposes them must be good in Nie Mingjue's view. So, when misogynistic attitudes are weaponized against Luo Qingyang, he says absolutely nothing because such discrimination supports their claim that the Wens must be eradicated. He has no objection to this underhanded technique yet disagrees with Jin Guangyao's lie about not remembering what Wei Wuxian said.

But, even then, he doesn't object to his lie during the discussion. He cares little for politics (eg. throwing Jin Guangyao down a staircase before several witnesses) so his refusal to openly criticize Jin Guangyao isn't because it was a politically astute decision but because his lie supported Nie Mingjue's argument that the Wens (and therefore Wei Wuxian) must be annihilated.

He isn't angry about the deceit itself but rather that Jin Guangyao lied. His anger isn't justice but rather distrust of Jin Guangyao. With this, I refute any claims that his aggression towards Jin Gaungyao is somehow justified. Also, the notion that somehow such aggression can be justified is a perversion of reality and is just very weird.

Jin Guangyao is also in great danger whenever Nie Mingjue abuses him. Nie Mingjue's murder attempts are almost always preceded by bouts of violence. Let's use the time he threw Jin Guangyao down Carp Tower as an example:

He raised his foot. Yet Jin GuangYao neither avoided nor took defence. The kick landed right on him, and again he rolled like a pebble down Carp Tower -Chapter 49

Nie Mingjue kicks Jin Gaungyao down Carp Tower even whilst knowing the unfortunate circumstance that was Meng Yao's first meeting with Jin Guangshan. A very clear parallel between Nie Mingjue and Jin Gaungshan is established within this scene. Just as Jin Guangshan could refuse to harm one of his bastards because he was a powerful man, Nie Mingjue can abuse Jin Gaungyao because he too, is a very powerful man.

This parallel demonstrates Nie Mingjue's supposed 'righteousness' isn't fuelling his hatred of Jin Gaungyao but rather his very personal feelings towards him. he views Jin Gaungyao's deceit as a slight against him. He takes offence when Meng Yao doesn't fully match up to his perspective of him. He can justify viewing Jin Guangyao as manipulative and sly because Jin Gaungyao doesn't adhere to his views. He is angered precisely because he can't understand him. Meng Yao hurt him, so Nie Mingjue feels justified in hurting him back. Physically.

It's horrifically petty because they are not equals. They never have been! Meng Yao is first his subordinate. He doesn't reconcile with their new relationship as sworn brothers, going as far as to continue calling Jin Guangyao "Meng Yao". Perhaps Nie Mingjue still sees Jin Gaungyao as his inferior and Therefore feels entitled to harm because of a personal grievance with him. Who would dare oppose the righteous Chifeng-Zun for putting a prostitute's son in his place?

Nie Mingjue always believes his violence is justified. After burning Nie Huaisang's belongings he says:

“The both of you should be tied up and beaten once every day”

Although it appears to simply be a threat, the phrase takes a dark turn when considering burning Nie Huaisang's belongings was initially just a threat too. It isn't unreasonable to assume (had Nie Mingjue lived long enough) that he would have truly beaten both his brothers.

Nie Mingjue does not regret causing Nie Huaisang great anguish, proving he believes his aggression to be justified. It isn't just Jin Guangyao who was left liable, but also Nie Huaisang who hasn't committed any significant atrocities as Nie Mingjue believes Jin Gaungyao to have done.

The Villanous Friends Extra continues to supply us with information;

...he saw a small area of purple at Jin GuangYao's forehead that wasn't hidden properly. He laughed, "Where did that come from?"..."Nie MingJue did it?"

Jin GuangYao, "If he were the one who did it, do you think I could still be standing here and talking to you?"

Although Jin Guangyao claims Nie Mingjue was not the perpetrator of his injury, it is worth noting Xue Yang's initial assumption was that Nie Mingjue harmed him. His aggression is common enough knowledge that even Xue Yang whose interests lie wholly in revenge and demonic cultivation knows of it.

Yet again are the power discrepancies between Jin Gaungyao and Nie Mingjue highlighted for nobody appears to care enough to attempt to protect Jin Guangyao from further harm. Nie Mingjue is allowed to abuse Jin Gaungyao without interference.

Moreover, Jin Gaungyaos' relationship with Jin Guangshan is infamous - just look at his courtesy name! Madam Jin is infamous for disliking Jin Gaungayo, especially after she publicly admonishes him. Lan Xichen too discusses his relationship with his parents;

Lan XiChen "His mother never liked him to begin with. After ZiXuan-Xiong passed away, she often hit him and scolded him. These days, his father also refuses to listen to him" -Chapter 49

Instead of assuming his parents harmed him, Xue Yang assumes Nie Mingjue is the culprit suggesting such abuse is widely known and accepted by society.

Jin Guangyao also asks:

"If he were the one who did it, do you think I could still be standing here and talking to you?"

Suggesting that a) Nie Mingjue's aggression is so damaging that it takes days for recovery or b) there's a high chance of his death whenever Nie Mingjue is angry. Most instances of abuse occur before Nie Mingjue attempts to kill him, so I believe B to be the most reasonable answer.

Here's another quote I found that supports my argument.Not cool Da-ge, not cool:

Lan XiChen's face disclosed his worry, but Jin GaungYao stopped him, then followed Nie MingJue out of the Blooming Garden. As soon as they approached the edge of Carp Tower, Nie MingJue bought his palm down on him

To conclude, Jin Guangyao is often victimized by Nie Mingjue on the basis of a perceived slight or hatred. Although Nie Mingjue uses justice to legitimise his aggression, his distorted perception of reality ignores the power inequities that pervade society. So yes, I do believe he abused Jin Guangyao.

#jin guangyao #mdzs #idk tumblr etiquette but i think I'm not suposed to tag the character I'm bashing???#so I didn't tag the main focus of this #did i do it right?#wish the fish

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dreamlandreader · 8 months

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Ghost of You - Chapter Two

A/n: Thank you so much for all the love on the first chapter! Every like, comment and reblog meant so much to me! If anyone would like to be added to the series tag list just let me know ❤️ I’m so sorry I haven’t updated sooner than now, I found out shortly after posting the first chapter that I got my dream job and I have had so much paperwork to get through before I can start on Monday. Once I’ve settled into the new routine I’ll be able to set up a better schedule for posting so there hopefully won’t be so long between posts! Anyway, happy reading! 💖

Chapter warnings: Memory loss, angst, very brief discussion of injuries

Prythian

5 Months Later

Amren was not an anxious being. She felt rage and lust, irritation and satisfaction. Very occasionally, she even felt admiration, but she did not feel anxiety. However, the last five months had begun to push her towards the brink of worry.

It had been five months since her High Lord and Lady were stolen away in the middle of the day from right under her nose. Five months since the Morrigan had arrived at the River House to find it empty and reeking of blood. Five months since the entire Night Court had gone to hell.

She still couldn’t understand it. How someone had outsmarted her High Lord, the tactical expert who was always a step ahead of his enemies. How they had managed to leave seemingly unscathed when faced with Feyre Archeron, the human turned fae with the power of seven high lords. Nothing about that day made sense, and the unknown made Amren uneasy.

It did not make it any easier that Amren had been prepared for something like this to happen. She was second in command for a reason. Rhysand had chosen her because she was a reliable member of his court who was not afraid to make hard decisions and sacrifices for the sake of her home. Despite this, Feyre and Rhys’s absence was having an increasingly profound effect upon the Night Court, and Amren was slowly beginning to lose her handle on the situation.

It was not like the last time, when Rhysand was under the mountain for half a century. Then, all of Prythian was suffering, no court was left unscathed, and therefore, there was no strife between courts. Internal conflict with the Illyrians and the Court of Nightmares was, for once, not so prevalent, and on the rare occasions trouble did rear its head, rebellion was easily quashed. This time, however, trouble stirs deep in the underbelly of the Night Court. Rumors swirl of Rhysand and Feyre’s disappearance, some speculating that they abandoned their court and its people because they believed a war was brewing once again. The Illyrians took that idea and elaborated upon it considerably, seizing the opportunity to dispute Rhysand’s claim as High Lord, pointing out his inadequacies, and sowing seeds of doubt amongst themselves and Night Court citizens alike.

Hewn City residents were being equally as troublesome. Despite being banished to life in the Court of Nightmares, numerous Hewn City fae have been spotted wandering the Night Court, causing damage to property, starting brawls, and injuring innocent bystanders. Chasing these incidents has possessed the majority of the Inner Circle’s time, which has made searching for Feyre and Rhysand even more difficult.

Trying to find them had been like locating a needle in a haystack. The scene upon which Mor had stumbled on that day provided only a few clues. The tang of blood wafted heftily through the air, broken glass littered the kitchen floor, and a suspicious black powder dusted the dark oak countertops. Azriel’s contact at the local apothecary provided intel that the powder was a highly protected substance, one only available to those with the highest clearance due to its abuse in previous centuries by criminals. The intended use of the powder is for aiding sleep, and works when a small amount is mixed into a tonic. However, when inhaled in larger amounts, the effects of the powder lead to drowsiness and temporary vision loss, suggesting that Feyre and Rhysand were blinded by their attackers, and that the incident was anything but a fair fight.

“I still don’t understand how they got past the wards,” Azriel puzzled, breaking Amren out of her thoughts and plunging her back into the river house dining room, which, in recent months, had become the Inner Circles meeting room.

“Rhysand must have made a mistake. Left a gap in the wards, or not noticed a weak patch somewhere,” Nesta replied, staring intently at the map of the River House in the middle of the table, considering, as they all had over the months, where things went wrong.

“Rhys wouldn’t do that. He’s not stupid. And he wouldn’t risk Feyre’s safety knowing they have a huge target on their backs,” Mor snapped. The longer this mystery dragged on, the worse the tension in the Inner Circle became. Tempers were rising, and as time ticked on, the stakes were getting higher and higher.

“I’m not criticising him,” Nesta retorted, “I’m just saying that everyone makes mistakes.”

“Not Rhys. Not with this,” stated Mor, who refused to meet anyone’s eyes.

“Look, we need to focus on finding out who did it. If we find them, we find Feyre and Rhysand,” Amren insisted. She was sick of it. The questioning. The not knowing. But, sitting around debating what may or may not have happened was not getting them anywhere.

“There is nothing to go by! We’ve spent months and months going over the same few clues, and we’ve still come up with nothing,” Cassian growled.

“Well, what do you want to do boy, give up?” Amren glared in Cassian’s direction, as he shrunk in his seat and began shaking his head profusely.

“No! I would never give up on finding them. If it took three centuries, I’d keep searching. But we need a better plan. What we are doing isn’t working. Sitting around here day after day bickering amongst ourselves is useless!”

“He’s right,” argued Elain, speaking out for the first time that day. “Turning on each other isn’t going to help, and we have been going over and over this with a fine toothcomb for weeks and still come up with nothing. We seriously need to think about reaching out to the other courts for help.”

“No,” Amren scowled.

“Amren, please!” Mor begged. They had been trying to convince her of this for weeks. Bringing in members of outside courts. Asking for their assistance, for their best minds and their advice. No matter what they said, everytime Amren’s answer remained the same.

“I said no. It’s bad enough that the Illyrians and Hewn City are using this as an opportunity to cause problems. We are not letting the other courts know how seriously this is impacting the Night Court. If Autumn knew how bad things have become, they would take every advantage against us.”

“We aren’t suggesting we talk to Beron, but Helion has already offered his assistance in any way possible. A fresh set of eyes might be exactly what we need. We know him. We can trust him. Rhys and Feyre trust him!” Mor protested.

“This remains a Night Court issue. We will not lean on other courts unless we become desperate. Helion may be a trustworthy ally, but how do we know that one of his court members isn’t responsible for this.”

“The Illyrians are spreading lies about our High Lord and Lady which half of the court is starting to believe. Hewn City residents freely walk our streets causing chaos everywhere they go. Our friends are gone, and we have no idea where to even start Amren. It’s been five months. It can’t get much more desperate than this,” Azriel pleaded, and was met with a hard stare.

“I’ll think about it,” Amren mumbled. The entire room sighed, but they knew better than to argue. From Amren, an I’ll think about it was the best they would ever get.

The meeting continued for a further two hours, with Cassian reporting back on his trouble keeping the Illyrians in check, and Azriel interjecting with his own issues locating missing Hewn City members. Elain informed the group of her success in sourcing a group of trusty elderly Night Court fae to keep watch for any suspicious activity, and Nesta detailed the searches that the Valkyries and Mor had performed that week along the southern border in their efforts to locate Feyre and Rhysand.

After delegating a series of tasks to each member of the Inner Circle, Amren finally called the meeting to an end, and everyone slumped out of the river house to get started on their orders as soon as possible. Morale was at an all-time low, and the clock was ticking on their opportunity to find Rhysand and Feyre.

Glancing across the dining room, Amren’s eyes fell upon the portrait that hung above the smooth marble fireplace. Shortly before their disappearance, Feyre had presented Rhysand with a painting of the Inner Circle, crafted from a memory of them all sitting around the dinner table, drinking, laughing. Rhys and his mate were front and center, and he was looking towards her with a level of adoration that one would assume impossible to achieve unless they had seen it with their own eyes.

Amren’s head was beginning to ache. The one thing that comforted her was that she knew Rhysand and Feyre were at least alive. If not, the magic of the Night Court would have already assigned someone else the role of High Lord or Lady. For now, they remained living, but she was well aware that did not necessarily mean they were safe, or that they weren’t on borrowed time. Amren felt the weight of her decisions heavily on her shoulders, and the pressure was starting to become unbearable.

Rhysand

Scotland, United Kingdom

Rhysand flipped the flimsy sign from open to closed and started checking off his nightly tasks. Every evening for the last five months had been the same. Close up. Check. Wipe the tables. Check. Mop the floors, take out the bins, and empty the dishwasher. Check. Check. Check.

However, despite the monotony, Rhysand was unbelievably grateful to Doug and Jenny for not only giving him a place to stay whilst he got back on his feet, but also trusting him to work at their beloved cafe. The Humble Pie was a quaint spot, which specialized in delicious homemade fruit pastries and a variety of fancy herbal teas. Jenny had a knack for baking, and after retiring, she decided it was finally time to follow her dream and open a place of her own with Doug to share her delightful creations. It didn’t pay a lot, but it was enough that within a few months Rhysand was able to rent a small flat around the corner, and even put away a few savings for a rainy day.

Rhysand was well aware that he owed the Caldwells a lot. If it wasn’t for them he had no idea where he would have ended up. The thought often occurred to him - mainly in the middle of the night - that the woman he heard crying out in his memory of the attack may not be so lucky. Was she alone? Was she scared? Did she have any memories of that night? Or, like Rhysand, was she living with scraps of memories that haunted her. Every time the girl came to mind, Rhysand’s stomach twisted. After months he still couldn’t shake the pain that echoed through his body at the thought of her in danger. It was a strange reaction, something he was well aware of, which is how he knew she must be important. There is no way his very soul would ache so violently at the mere thought of a stranger. No, she was different, and Rhysand had made it his mission to find her.

Today was Friday, the one day a week that Rhysand’s search for the anonymous girl from his dreams was put on pause due to his boss’s obsession with getting him to socialise. On Friday’s, Doug insisted that he walked Rhysand home and they shared a few beers and a takeaway. Rhysand was not a fan of beer, and leaving his research untouched for the whole night was always a real struggle, but this was the compromise Doug had offered forward after Rhys continually turned down his invites to join his birdwatching club. So, for Doug’s sake Rhys held off from obsessing over articles and reports for one night a week.

Walking into Rhysand’s flat, Doug stalled near the sofa, taking in the state the flat had become. Each week he visited, Doug observed how research was strewn across the coffee table and occasionally lined the walls, but it seemed as though Rhysand had taken it to another level. An explosion of papers lined every surface. Some sheets were covered with hurried annotations, others were severely dog-eared, and a rather large pile appeared to have scorch marks along one side. The place was a wreck, and the sad thing was that Rhysand didn’t even seem to care. Doug didn’t think that Rhys was a particularly messy person by nature. He was always presentable, and even appeared to have a habit of consistently checking his clothes for lint, but his obsession with solving the mystery of the girl from his memories was taking over his life.

Two months after he woke up in that alleyway, Rhysand had become tired of waiting for the police to find any leads on what happened to him. With very little information and no one coming forward to report Rhysand missing, there wasn’t much they could do, so Rhys’s case was pushed to the bottom of the pile for more pressing matters. The final nail in the coffin was when Rhysand insisted that they needed to search for the woman whose screams he remembered, concerned she could still be in trouble, but as his memory was so shaky and there was no evidence of anyone else missing or injured in the area, it was written off by police and doctors alike that the woman was likely just a part of his mind playing tricks on him, a side effect of his memory loss. After that, Rhys took the situation into his own hands.

“Jeez Rhys, what the hell happened in here. I swear these papers multiply every time I come round,”

“Yeah, things are a bit chaotic at the moment,” Rhysand said, quickly swiping some research from the sofa before Doug threw himself down. “But I swear I’m right on the cusp of something.”

“Why does half of it look like it was set on fire?” Doug enquired, looking pointedly at the singed pile.

“Ah, that would be because it almost was. I wasn’t getting anywhere with it, so I thought about throwing it into the fire. I didn’t, but I got a little close, and it caught alight. Nearly burnt my fingertips off with that one,” Rhys chuckled nervously.

“So, you’re still intent on finding the girl then?”

“Look Doug, I know you think I’m crazy, but I-”

“Hey I don’t,” Doug interrupted, “Extremely disorganised and slightly obsessive sure, but I get it. If I was in the same situation, I can’t say I wouldn’t drown myself in paperwork to figure out who I was too,”

Rhys hummed looking down at his feet, knowing exactly what was coming. This was not the first time that Doug had tried to have this conversation.

“Do you not think you should take a little break from it though? You know, come back with fresh eyes and all that?”

“No,” Rhys replied firmly.

“No?”

“I do that, and I might miss something, and anyway, I can’t waste time. She could be in trouble, and I need to know who I am,”

“You know you might have more luck if you tried the internet. I know you’re more old school and seem to be weirdly bad at technology, but you could check through stuff so much faster online,” Doug suggested.

“I don’t know,” Rhys replied, skeptical about tackling the web again.

Doug had tried to set Rhys up with a phone the first week he lived with him, but technology was clearly not his strong suit. For some reason, Rhys was incredibly intimidated by the internet and still hadn’t come to terms with the TV, never mind texting or searching for things on Google.

“You’ll be able to check a much bigger area, much faster. All this research is local news. You never know, she might be further afield,”

“Fine. But you’ll have to help me,” Rhys gave in.

After half an hour of vigorous searching on Doug’s phone, they came across an interesting article from only three months prior.

“Young Woman Appeals to Find Family After Memory Loss Shock.

Two months ago, a young woman believed to be in her early twenties was found injured and unconscious on the streets of New York City, after what police presume was a robbery gone wrong. After being rushed to a nearby hospital, it was soon discovered that she was suffering from amnesia and could not recall her own name, history, or anything relating to the incident.

It was believed initially that the victim's family would eventually contact police about her whereabouts, especially considering she was found wearing an engagement ring. However, no family has ever come forward, leaving detectives to believe that the victim could have potentially lost contact with her loved ones shortly before the incident. The woman - who is currently known as Jane Doe - is now appealing nationwide for any potential friends or family to come forward to identify her.”

Rhysand was holding his breath. The dates aligned. This woman was found on the exact day that Rhys was discovered unconscious in the alleyway. Skimming through the rest of the article, Rhys was desperate to find any information to prove that it wasn’t just a weird coincidence, when a small photograph amidst the writing caught his attention.

A young woman with beautiful blue eyes stared back from Doug’s phone, and Rhys could have sworn his heart was about to beat out of his chest. He knew her. He didn’t know how, but he recognized the blush on her cheeks, the delicate shape of her lips, the swirling tattoos that graced her arms and hands. Rhysand knew her in his soul, and at that moment her name simply fell from his lips.

“Feyre,” Rhys gasped.

The name reverberated around his body. Feyre. He knew her. He had found her. Images began to flood his mind. Broken and twisted, but there nonetheless. Feyre angry, throwing something his way. Feyre embracing him with a tenderness he felt in his very bones. Feyre holding his hand, a dazzling ring adorning her finger. Dancing. Making love to him. Laughing. Crying. Feyre. Feyre. His Feyre.

“What?” Asked Doug, surprised.

“It’s her. That girl, that’s her. I - I remember,” tears were spilling from Rhysand’s eyes, and he was so overwhelmed he didn’t care he was breaking down in front of his friend for the first time since his ordeal had begun.

“What, you remember everything?”

“No, I remember her. Not anything specific, and it’s all a jumbled mess, but its there. Doug I’ve found her,”

“Rhys are you sure?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, when I said she might be further afield, I meant Edinburgh or maybe even Glasgow at a push. I didn’t mean three thousand miles away. It’s impossible that it’s more than a coincidence, surely?”

“Doug. I know it in my soul. It is her.” Rhys retorted, desperately refusing to let go of the hope which blossomed in his chest.

“Okay, okay I believe you,” Doug replied quickly, holding his hands up in surrender. Rhys wasn’t so sure he really did, but he was too focused on the situation at hand to continue pleading his case.

“So what are you going to do?”

“I have to go. I have to find her.” Rhys cried, running his fingers through his dark hair in frustration.

“You want to go to New York. Just like that. Rhys, you really need to think this through. You don’t know where this girl lives. Do you even have a passport?”

“No. I don’t know where she lives, but look at the bottom it says to contact a … Detective Bailey,” Rhys said squinting at the rest of the article. “This detective will know how to find her. If I can get to see her then maybe she’ll take me to Feyre. She’s looking for family, and I’m … well, I’m obviously something to her.”

“But-”

“And the passport thing is fine. The police sorted me out with all that stuff when I first woke up,”

“Look, Rhys, I really don’t think you’re thinking this through,”

“I need you to trust me. Please!” Doug took in the look of genuine hope in Rhysand’s eyes and knew he couldn’t bring himself to take that away.

“Okay. Alright, I trust you.”

Doug spent the next hour helping to plan what Rhys should do next, he helped book the plane tickets and even offered him a ride to the airport the next day.

After Doug left for the night, Rhysand stood by the window, staring out at the glistening lights in the night sky. For the first time since waking up, Rhys felt like he could look to the stars and dream.

Feyre (aka Jane Doe)

New York, USA

“Damn it, I can’t do it,” cried Frank slamming his brush down onto the paint-splattered work table and crossing his arms in defiance.

“Hey, Frank what’s the matter? You’re doing so well,” Jane responded gently, sitting down by the disgruntled pensioner.

“How am I supposed to paint a damn picture when I can’t keep my arms still!” Frank huffed.

“I know it’s difficult, and you’re still building up your strength, but that’s okay. These sessions are to help you do that,” Jane advised, placing her tattooed hand comfortingly over Frank’s. “It’s frustrating not to be able to jump back up and do everything with the ease you used to, but you just need to take your time.”

Jane had been working at the art therapy center since she had been discharged from their services two months prior. Her doctors had recommended art therapy to help Jane heal her mind and potentially stir some memories. While it didn’t appear to conjure anything new recollection-wise, she had found art to be an incredible escape from the anxiety she felt nagging her all hours of the day.

After unsuccessfully appealing in a national newspaper, and also online, for any information on potential family members, the distraction of painting helped to ease some of the ache in her soul. After seeing Jane’s aptitude for painting and her willingness to help other patients, the therapist in charge offered her the opportunity to help run art therapy sessions, and she hadn’t looked back since.

Frank had been one of her first patients. He had come in after suffering from a stroke, and his doctors were hopeful that art sessions would help to improve his physical condition. Jane had bonded with the man immediately. He had made vast strides already, but she understood his irritation with the knowledge that he wasn’t progressing as quickly as he would like.

“How about you and me take a quick coffee break and then try again in a while, huh? I brought your favorite cookies!” Jane singsonged.

“Oh, go on, you know how to tempt me,” Frank chuckled as Jane led him out to the break room.

Half an hour later, when Frank was stuffed full of Oreos and had settled back down to his canvas, Jane wandered over to a client she had never seen before.

Erica was young, maybe only a year or two older than Jane herself, and she was dressed in the loveliest shade of lilac Jane had ever seen. It wasn’t her appearance however which stopped Jane in her tracks, but the painting which sat before her. An expanse of pastel-coloured roses, violets, and begonias, amongst other delicate florals graced the canvas, and something about the soft warmth of the gardens before her, sent Jane into a tailspin. Jane was immediately transported into what could only be a memory. She was surrounded by creaky wooden walls that let in the bitter cold of winter. Her hands had gone numb in the short while she had been painting, and crouching at such odd angles had stiffened her limbs. Before her sat an old dresser with three distinct drawers, which Jane had spent the evening decorating. One was consumed by red and orange flames, another adorned with the night sky, and the last … the last was covered with little flowers, just like those in Erica’s painting. They were much more crudely drawn, but beautiful nonetheless.

“Please, I swear I’ll keep it clean this time!” A voice begged. Soft and gentle as a feather in the breeze. Jane recognized the warm lilt, but she just couldn’t put her finger on exactly who the voice belonged to.

“Absolutely not. The last time you borrowed my cloak, it came back covered in soil. I’m not lending you any of my clothes if you insist on gardening in them!” Another voice argued. It was far more stern than the last one, leaving little room for argument. The determined tone of the second speaker left something aching in Jane’s chest. She knew this voice too. But how?

“Well, mine finally fell apart this morning. I need something to stop me from freezing to death while I weed the garden,” the first person uttered, frustration lacing their voice.

“I’m not your only sister you know. Ask Feyre for hers.”

Jane felt as though her heart had jumped into her mouth. At that exact moment, something within her stirred, and she recalled two things, the first things she had remembered about herself since the day she lost her memory. First, was that she had sisters, two of them! Somewhere out there, a family of her own. The second was that her name was not the hospital-assigned Jane Doe, but Feyre Archeron.

Finishing her shift with her nerves all over the place, Feyre practically ran out of the door and back home to her cramped apartment. Rushing into her bedroom, she grabbed the nearest blank canvas, and began to desperately paint the drawers from her memory in the fear that the vision would fade from view. An hour and a half later, covered head to toe in paint, Feyre stared longingly at the image before her and finally allowed herself to let out a sob.

Tears streaming down her face, Feyre reached into the drawer of her wonky bedside table and carefully located a cloth-bound object. Gently unwrapping the purple fabric, a small but stunning ring fell into the palm of her shaking hand.

She had a family. Sisters, and by the looks of it a partner. So why had they still not come to find her? The past five months had been filled with hope after hope shattered. First, the discovery of a mystery lover who never showed up. Then, her appeal for her family to come forward came to nothing too. Feyre initially wondered if she didn’t have any family at all, maybe that was the reason nobody had tried to find her. However, this latest revelation suggested that she did have a family, but they clearly weren’t interested in locating her.

A burning knot formed in Feyre’s chest. Why wouldn’t they come? Was she a terrible person in her past life? Had she done something that caused everyone she once knew to turn away from her?

Looking through her bedroom window at the few stars that cut through the city’s light pollution, Feyre tried to control her breathing and tucked away her heartbreak for another day. The lack of starlight caused a strange sense of discomfort in Feyre’s gut, as though some part of her knew she belonged in a land that thrived under ethereal skies.

Feyre sat for hours, staring out of that window, completely unaware that three thousand miles away, the love of her life was also enduring the torture of missing a life he barely remembered.

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