#stupid as in the source of their anger was so fucking trivial

[orcelito]

honestly. reading posts from that time period just makes my heart ache 

18 is far too young to have to deal with those things 

[dialovers-translations]

DIABOLIK LOVERS DAYLIGHT Vol. 4 Sakamaki Subaru Stellaworth Tokuten Drama CD: “Sadistic Date”

Original title: サディスティックデート

Source: Diabolik Lovers Daylight Vol. 4 Sakamaki Subaru Stellaworth Tokuten Drama CD

Audio: Here

Seiyuu: Takashi Kondou

Translator’s note: The batting cage is definitely an interesting date location but this ended up being way cuter than I thought it would. uwu I knew poor Subaru-kun had dug his own grave when he prompted the MC to shout something she usually would never dare to say. xD The tsundere level is definitely very high in this one, so proceed with caution. 

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“...Haah!? Fuck off, Reiji, you shithead! ...Haah, I get angry just havin’ to look at your stupid face! ...So long!” 

Subaru stomps away.

“Che...Reiji, that bastard...He keeps on complainin’ to me ‘bout the most trivial bullshit…”

You reach out to him.

“Hm? Ah...It’s you. You showed up just on time. Let’s go.”

Subaru grabs your hand and drags you along. 

*TIMESKIP*

The two of you are walking outside.

“It’s already dark out...Don’t stray away from my side, ‘kay? Who knows what’ll happen…”

You ask where you’re headed. 

“Hm? Ahー Now that you mention it, I pulled you along out of nowhere, but never said where we’re goin’, did I? ...I was made upset earlier, so I’m goin’ to a place where I can vent off my anger.”

You tilt your head to the side.

“Somewhere I can relax without anyone complainin’ to me.”

You frown.

“Don’t worry, you’ll see soon enough. Be careful not to wander off, ‘kay?”

*TIMESKIP*

“...We’re here. Well, I guess you can already tell, but it’s a batting cage.” (1)

You ask Subaru if he enjoys baseball. 

“Yeah. We’ve been playin’ durin’ P.E. lately, which made me realize that baseball isn’t half bad of a sport. This place is open at night as well, so it’s the perfect option.”

You ask why he took you with him.

“...Aah? I brought you with me ‘cause....Well...I-I didn’t want to come together or anythin’...You just happened to show up right as I was ‘bout to leave, so I figured I’d bring you along.”

You smile.

“D-Don’t give me that look! Anyway, let’s go inside.”

The two of you enter the building.

“Watch me hit the ball first, ‘kay?”

You cheer him on.

“Yeah!”

Subaru gets inside the batting cage.

*Cling cling*

“Okay, bring it on!”

He starts hitting the balls while voicing his frustrations. 

“That stupid Reiji…!!”

*Thud*

“It’s always complaints, complaints and more complaints with him…!!”

*Thud*

“You’re stressin’ me out, you bastard!!”

*Thud*

“...Haah...I guess this should do for now.”

He returns to your side as you praise him.

“...Hah? That wasn’t amazin’ or anythin’. I missed a few as well. ...Anyway, you’re up next. Get goin’.”

You seem hesitant.

“I know you’re not the best at this, but we’re here now anyway, so why not give it a shot? You might end up enjoyin’ it more than you expected?”

You nod.

“Here, your bat.”

*Cling*

“Ah, right! If you hit the balls while shoutin’ like I did earlier, it’ll really help you feel better afterwards. You’re always bein’ forced to do all sorts of shit for others, so I don’t see why you shouldn’t be allowed to vent for once?” 

You tell him you have nothing to vent about.

“You don’t have any complaints…!?”

You feel ashamed.

“No point in gettin’ embarrassed now. ...Guess it doesn’t have to be complaints, but could be things you usually would never say or somethin’...I mean, I won’t force you or anythin’...”

You perk up your head.

“Hm? Thought of somethin’...?”

You nod.

“Yeah...Go ahead then!”

You enter the batting cage.

*Cling*

“Ready? The balls are comin’ so hold onto that bat!”

*Thud*

“...Hah? Why is she shoutin’ my name…? ...Does she have a complaint ‘bout me…!? No way, right…? She would be the last person to…”

*Thud*

“...’Thank you’...?”

*Thud*

“...’For always treasuring me’...!? HAAH!? What is she sayin’...!?”

*Thud*

“I-I don’t help you out with your chores or anythin’...!?”

*Thud*

“...Nor do I get worried ‘bout your health…!!”

*Thud*

“Ah, she hit it…A-Anyway, I’ve heard enough so get back here!”

*Thud*

You get out of the batting cage.

*Clink*

“...Oi, youーー! What was that shit you pulled earlier!?”

You defend yourself by saying Subaru is the one who told you to shout while hitting the balls.

“I know I told you to shout but the issue is the stuff you said! I’m baffled you can say all that embarrassin’ shit out loud!”

You justify yourself.

“You simply said what has always been on your mind…!? ...That’s fine and all butーー “

You seem worried that he’s upset with you.

“I-I don’t dislike it or anythin’...Honestly, knowing you feel that way ‘bout me makes me kinda...Ah, fuck!! Oi, just you wait! It’s my turn next!”

Subaru gets back inside the batting area.

“Tsk...I can’t sleep tonight knowing she’s the only one who got to have her say ‘bout me...I’ve got plenty of stuff I want to tell her as well!”

*Thud*

“Iーー”

*Thud*

“...I’m always grateful for what you do…”

*Thud*

“Iーー ...when it comes to you…”

*Thud*

“...AAAH! ...I LOVE YOU, YOU LIL’ SCOUNDREL (2)” 

*Thud*

Subaru returns.

“Haah, haah...Don’t say anythin’...Shit...I want to die…”

You tell him you liked his confession. 

“Haah...I’m glad you’re happy but...I’m not comin’ to the battin’ cage ever again.”

ーー THE END ーー

Translation notes

(1) I don’t know if these exist wherever you guys live (because I’m pretty sure they don’t in Belgium), but due to the immense popularity of baseball in Japan, you have specialized arcades which simulate the game. You enter an area which has a machine that shoots balls at a set pace as you simply hit them as hard/far as you can.

(2) Subaru adds the words ‘このやろう’ or ‘kono yarou’ at the end of his confession which is actually an insult (and a very rude one as well). You would usually see it translated as ‘bastard’ ‘motherfucker’ or ‘son of a bitch’ but since he’s still proclaiming his love, I went with something which is a little more toned down, but still conveys his tsundere-ness. uwu

[mxvladdy]

That Diavolo angst was perfect. The best, most high quality cheese at the end. Domestic fluff galore. Decadence straight from the source of your hands.

Could we get some Diavolo fluff with an MC who ran away from home(of lamentation) that wants to spend the night at the castle because the brothers were being dismissive [in tsundere and sibling fun-poking ways] but it just kept reminding MC of their abusive home life in the most innocuous ways

i.e. Satan mocking the books they like for being "too whimsical/fanciful". Asmo making a few too many degrading comments on their skin/hair care or lack thereof (like, tell me the RIGHT way to do it then!  If I'm such a fuck up on my own). Mammon and Belphie.... being Mammon and Belphie.  Levi gate keeping them from devildom equivalent interests because they're "not a real fan if they don't [x]"

A/N: Awww you spoil me with compliments ~^.^~! I hope this is to your liking!

It was late and Diavolo was exhausted. Diavolo looks down at his over inundated schedule, black and red ink covering the pages, barely any of the original white pages could be seen now.  Squinting he chuckles at the elegant handwriting of his butler. He had quite literally penciled in two hours for sleep. A sweet gesture for the evening. It was unfortunate he had wasted half of that time going over in his last meeting of the night. 

The meeting was supposed to be just a brief update on the expansion of the kingdom out west. New trading routes with the colonies and lands not yet in his domain. But, as usual, the evening turned to his exchange program and he always had time to talk about his pet project, even if his schedule didn’t. Each of the brothers was adamant that the program was going well. Better than they had hoped in fact, they all warmed up to you much to his delight, even saying they were treating you like you were part of the family.

That should have been his first clue. He knew the brothers and how they acted with family. Perhaps it was because he was exhausted that the comment went over his head, perhaps it was his own ego telling him everything was going great. He brushed aside the remarks to conclude the meeting and get to his rooms without a second thought. Diavolo practically vibrating with excitement at the hot bath waiting for him. Maybe he could nab some chocolate from Barbatos’s secret stash too. With those sweet thoughts filling his head and his eyes buried in his agenda he overlooks you standing by his door. He skids to a stop only after almost knocking you off your feet with his massive bulk. “My apologies, I did not see you there.” He steadies you looking you over for any injuries. “Do you need something?” He forces an energetic smile onto his face to hide his exhaustion and slight irritation at yet another snag in his evening.

He watches you shuffle in place for a moment, eyes downcast. “Sorry-sorry, it’s silly, but could I stay with you for a bit? I don’t want to be at the house.” Your voice warbles, hands coming up to wipe at fresh tears. Diavolo’s hearts sink, his previous exhaustion taking a backseat to you.  

He beckons you into his room without a second thought. “What’s wrong? What happened?” You shake your head rubbing harder at your face, your skin getting more and more agitated. He purrs deep in his chest pulling you close on instinct to comfort you and for you to stop agitating your skin. You bury your face in his uniform.

“It’s stupid really, I don’t know why I’m upset.” You laugh. The weak sound getting caught on a wet hiccup. “I just can’t handle the teasing right now.” Anger begins to brew in his gut, the brothers, you were obviously talking about them. Had he been to lose with his leash? Did they lie to him?

He leads you to his favorite chair by the window and crouches next to you. “Explain, please? If I need to correct this I will.” He listens, letting you vent and get your frustration out. He never had siblings nor any real family to relate your experiences with like you did, but he understood the mounting weight of words. There was only so much one could take before even the strongest shoulders crumble. “I’m sorry they hurt you.” He reaches to squeeze your knee in reassurance. “I could have Barbatos explain the matter to them, if you allow it.”

You sniff and give him a watery smile. “Thank you but I have to express this myself- I just needed some time away from them.” You cover his large hand with both of yours and squeeze back. “Thanks for listening.” Diavolo rumbles warmly, eyes locking with your warm hands.

“Anytime mi giglio,” He leans back onto his heels. “If I’m honest, their little jabs are utter baseless garbage.”

“Yeah?” You chuckle wiping your nose with his gifted handkerchief. “You don’t think I’m some boring sentimental human?” He shakes his head letting out a dismissive snort. You are beautiful and if Asmo was too blinded by his own standards and routines then it was his loss. He loves the character and different textures of your body. He loves your permanent laugh lines and the way your skin by your eyes crinkle when you smile. The way your nose scrunches when you are happy just makes him glow when in your presence.

Even the tiny scars and marks on your skin told stories that his body never could be able to do. He envied the way human lives could be seen through their bodies, the stories their bodies tell with or without them knowing was amazing. Demons, with their smooth lines, tight hard skin, and hidden agendas couldn’t do that. The idea of “gate-keeping” as you called it was a completely new contempt to him, and sounded ridiculous too. It was counterintuitive to his whole program. If you enjoyed the programs and culture then why were the brothers chastising you over it? He makes a mental note to find time off to take you to enjoy some of the sights of his Devildom without the brother's judgment.

“No. You- you,” He waves his free hand in the air trying to find words that won’t embarrass him. “You are fascinating and so unashamed of your interests. The life you live is unlike any demon or fallen angel could ever comprehend. If they tease you on such trivial things then that speaks to a fault in their character, not yours.” He lets them hang in the air between you, not wanting the meaning to be lost in useless banter.

The silence between you was comfortable and Diavolo basked in it. Normally silence was always tense around him, everyone always waiting for a decree or punishment. Right now though there is none of that. “Wise words, where did you get them?” You move away to pat at your blotchy face, trying to wipe away the tear stains.

Diavolo huffs at the loss of your soft touch. “Little D.” He jokes, voice deadpan. You laugh turning to face him. “There we are!” He cracks a small grin already feeling your mood relax. Leaning in close he wipes away a stray tear. “Feeling a bit better?  Perhaps we can-” Your phone buzzes from your discarded bag making you jump apart. You rush over digging through the bag to grab the blasted device looking at the rapid-fire amount of texts and calls all come in at once. “The brothers?” Diavolo sighs cursing their interruption. He can see the long streams of text bubbles scroll by in the reflection of your damp eyes.

“Yeah.” You look up from your screen. “They are wondering where I am.” Diavolo grimaces not even trying to hide his feelings. You glance back at the phone with little interest, then shrug powering it off. “I think I can let them stew in it for a bit, don’t you? Mind if I crash here for the night?” The Devil perks up, gold eyes following the trajectory of your phone as you toss it. The decorative case disappearing into the cushions.

“I couldn’t agree more.” He claps his hands together in excitement. “Come! Read me one of the stories Satan found jejune. I think I have a few Devildom children's stories on a shelf somewhere to share too!” Diavolo gets up already deciding which room you will stay in for the evening. Perhaps if he plays his cards right you could stay the weekend.

[azurethevampire]

I Will Give You A Reason

A/N: Set in season 6, episodes 2-3 (I think at least it was those episodes xD) This piece is quite angst-filled one, so prepare yourself with tissues if you have to. If there is any mistakes to the few words/sentences of Swedish used in this, they are entirely my own as that isn't my strongest foreign language and I didn't use a translator. Also this was written about a year ago when I watched True Blood for the first time.

Fandom: True Blood

Summary: Emily and Pam have searched for Eric across the world. When they finally find the 1,000 years old viking vampire from France Emily's already shattered world seems to turn into dust: Eric, her rock, her best friend, the only father she's ever had, is sick. 

Characters: Eric Northman, Pamela Swynford de Beaufort, Emily Northman (oc)

Words: 2736

•-•-•-•-•

•-•-•-•-•

"Pam, you have to eat." 

You don't look like yourself, she wanted to add but stopped herself just in time. The vampire had been snappier for a few days now and Emily didn't want to make her mad at her. Not that she believed that Pam would really hurt her, even in anger. She had never done so after that one time and that had been when Emily was six and she hadn't known when to keep her mouth shut. 

Well, maybe she still didn't know when to keep her mouth shut —but she was better than ten years ago!  

Pam turned to look at the teenager—No. The young woman, that Emily had blossomed into in the last months despite that the world seemed to grow shittier every fucking day. Perhaps that was the reason why. Emily had lost that soft roundness on her face and her eyes were tired, dark bags under her eyes. Her clothes hung on her, and Pam, for a brief moment, wondered when was the last time the human herself had eaten. 

"I'm not hungry." 

Emily resisted the urge to roll her eyes, instead, she sat down on the only chair in the motel room they were in. "Snälla, Pam. You could at least stop lying to me about it - I'm not blind!" 

Pam was about to snap something back, but instead, her hand reached the doorknob. But before she left the room she turned to face Emily again. "If I can't find anything tonight, I'll feed on you tomorrow, I promise. Stay here, don't open the door to anyone and don't invite anyone in." 

Emily let Pam say those words the vampire had said every night although the girl is tired of hearing them night after night. But it seemed to help Pam, to get to remind her of those small yet so trivial rules. So Emily's "I know" echoed in the empty vampire-friendly motel room after Pam had left and closed the door behind her. 

Her eyes spotted the room key left on the small cracked table near the door. In the first months of their search, Pam locked Emily in but lately, the vampire had not taken the keys with her at all. 

And because of that Emily knew that Pam was starting to become suicidal in their search for Eric.

•-•-•-•-•

“I think I found him.” 

Pam has never - as far as Emily’s memory goes back - sounded more… excited? Happy? No, that is not the right word and she knew that. Pam’s voice was flat, she tried to hide the hope that had filled her but Emily felt it. It radiated off Eric’s first progeny and she couldn’t help it; for the first time in months, Emily dared to let herself hope too. 

But there was something else she sensed from Pam. She was sad too, and that made the girl swallow. “But?” When did my voice start to sound so weak? So small? 

Pam’s next words killed something inside of her. 

“Tara is dead. I felt it.” 

What felt like minutes passed and Emily couldn’t say anything, couldn’t move from her spot. Pam was still but there was no denying the glint in her eyes. Emily and Pam had never been the type to coddle each other. Never. 

Still, Emily raised up in her bed anyway, took the few short steps it took to reach the vampire, who had been her only family for six months now, and she wrapped her arms around her, swallowing and blinking back the tears she felt coming. 

“I’m so sorry, Pam.” 

And Pam - beautiful, bad-ass, smart Pam - returned the young woman’s embrace, letting bloody tears run freely, staining Emily’s shirt with red. 

•-•-•-•-•

The plane landed in France the same evening - Pam in a coffin in the cargo hold. 

They flew to the villa in France. Pam had told Emily that she and Eric used to live here before they were forced to go to Shreveport. 

She could see why the two vampires had chosen this place to reside in — even in the night, the garden surrounding the sand-coloured walls of the large building was breathtakingly beautiful. 

Emily had more pressing matters though than to watch the sights. She could feel him. First time in over six months, Emily felt Eric. That familiar flare that had so long been gone from inside her, burned again. No. Not completely familiar. There was no doubt that the vampire she felt was indeed Eric Northman. But his life force, which had always been so strong… it cracked. Like old dry cement. 

Something is wrong, Emily thought as she followed Pam inside, to a spiral staircase going down, down, down.

Emily swallowed. She had a bad feeling. Very bad feeling - and god, she wished she was wrong. She begged to be wrong. That there was simply something wrong with her own powers, and not something wrong with her Eric. 

Wishful thinking, foolish thinking, she knew. Knew because she had felt this same feeling before over the past months - recently more often than she would have wanted to. 

Emily and Pam started to make their way down the stairs, and Emily - her chest tightened in pain. 

Two youngish and beautiful women met the vampire and the empath on the stairs. One of them said something in French. Emily couldn't understand, she had never bothered learning French. Maybe sometime during 'forever' — she had used to think that. Not anymore, not for a long time now. 

She didn't know what the French woman said but she did feel their emotions. Confusion. Betrayal. Hurt. Confusion. 

The final round of the spiral and Pam and Emily saw the room. 

As soon as Emily's eyes fell on him, she felt her heart tighten. She had thought she had felt pain last night when Tara died the true death. She had been wrong. 

Nothing she had ever felt compared to the heart-wrenching, punch-in-the-gut pain that crashed over her like a hurricane when the dark veins creeping up her guardian's chest, the meaning of them, finally hit her. 

And even though her legs felt like boiled spaghetti, Emily forced herself to step closer to Eric. Eric who was sick. He can't be! He's Eric for fuck's sake! But he could be, and he was. "No" pushed through her lips, past the lump in her throat, the word sounding broken. 

And Eric. 

Eric Northman's eyes switched from his first progeny to his human equivalent to a daughter. "You found me."  

“How long?” Pam asked the question that burned on Emily’s mind too. It seemed that Eric was still in the first stage of the Hep-V virus but she knew that that didn’t mean anything. Not because she didn’t know how long Eric had been sick. He could have months left with proper blood sources but then again, if the disease got worse, he could only have days. 

The tall blonde vampire didn’t answer, not right away. He almost looked like he was about to fall asleep. Hot tears began to blind the teenager’s vision as she grabbed his hand in hers. His hand had always been cold. Cooling touch relieving to Emily. Eric’s hand was warm now. This is wrong! Emily’s mind screamed at her. 

“Eric?”

“Can you repeat the question?” 

And those words that seemed so meaningless, so genuinely apologetic, were the words that sent Emily’s tears falling from her eyes. 

“How long have you been sick?” And Emily heard in Pam’s voice that she was crying too. 

“Saw the first signs last month”, Eric said and not once in the time Emily had known Eric had he sounded so weak. So tired. 

“When you were in St. Petersburg”, Emily heard herself say. She and Pam had tracked Eric there - Pam cursing all of the time they were in Russia, how she hated the Russians with her gut. 

Something flickered in Eric’s blue, tired eyes. And even though faint, Emily felt the emotion: surprise. And even if the situation they are in, is fucked beyond belief, the young woman of seventeen found herself smiling, just the tiniest bit. Because one didn’t sneak up on Eric Northman that easily. 

“Don’t act all surprised”, Pam said behind Emily. “We searched the whole fucking planet for you - St. fucking Petersburg, Eric? You know how I hate the Russian people.” 

“Well, I didn’t know you two were gonna come looking for me”, Eric said, eyes moving to Emily whose eyes squinted slightly. 

“Then you were an idiot”, Emily said in Swedish. Another small wave of surprise from Eric. Emily continued. “Why did you keep moving then?” 

“Yes, I want to know the answer to that as well”, Pam said crossing her arms.  

Eric chuckled, although it awfully sounds like a mix of a chuckle and a cough. Too rough, Emily thought. 

“Congratulations, Pam, Emmy-”, and Emily’s eyes were burning with unshed tears again because it had been so long that she had heard that nickname from Eric. “You have outwitted me.” His hand raised to touch Emily’s cheek. “But only because I’m not well.” 

Pam told about Tara, but to Emily’s confusion, Eric didn’t offer words of comfort, didn’t say he was sorry to hear that. Instead, he asked about a stupid bucket game he played in Marocco - the same game Pam had played last night to get the information of Eric’s location. 

“Oh… I liked the bucket game.” 

And Pam was about to snap, she already took steps forward, but Emily beat the vampire to it. 

“What is wrong with you?! You are Eric fucking Northman!” her hands balled to fists, the tears in her eyes no longer coming out of sadness, but anger. “You don’t give up. You fight!” 

“Fight’s over, Emily.” 

“This can’t all be about Sylvie.” 

Emily didn’t know who Sylvie was. But she knew that Eric giving up like this couldn’t be just because of one person. 

“Godric”, Eric stated. “Nora.” Emily felt a tug of pain in her chest, partly her own, partly the vampire’s whose hand she still held in hers. “And yes, Sylvie too.” 

And Pam’s next question made Emily’s heart skip a beat, two beats. Because she had never, even in her wildest worst-case scenarios, thought about that. Not until Pam put that idea in her head when she asked: “Did you contract the virus on purpose?” 

Eric wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t do something so… he wouldn’t! but despite her thoughts, Emily couldn’t have said why she was suddenly so afraid of his answer. 

“On purpose? No-” Eric said, shaking his head a little, and Emily felt a relieved breath leave her. “But did I go about my dealings with a devil-may-care attitude? Absolutely.” 

“Damn you!” Emily snapped, but then she burst into tears. She was exhausted - she hadn’t slept since Marocco and even there it was just a few hours -, and the only thing that had kept her from having a break-down had been hope. Hope that she would see Eric again soon. But this reunion had not been the relief she had waited for. She was glad to see him again, but a small part of her wished they never would have found him. 

Because now, she was afraid. More afraid than she had ever been in her entire life - and that was saying something after the torture Edgington had put her through two years ago. 

Eric tried to reach for the girl, but Emily turned away, scooting back in the chair so she sat by his legs. She pulled her knees up, hugged herself tightly and buried her face in her knees as sobs racked her whole body. She was barely aware that Pam had sat on Eric’s other side, trying to reason with him. 

“Don’t do this to us”, Emily heard Pam start sobbing and she turned her head, just enough that she could see Eric and her again - and she didn’t want to. She really didn’t but she still reached out with her hand, and her fingers - still so small and slim in comparison - wrapped around Eric’s large hand the best they could. “Please, Eric…”, Emily sobbed, too. 

“God damn you!” Pam cursed.  

“For more than 1,000 years, the world has been my oyster”, Eric said. 

“And it still can be”, Pam argued. “I’ll do anything.” Emily squeezed Eric’s hand. Me too. I would do anything for you. She wanted to say but the words refused to leave her. 

“I’ve lost my taste for oysters, Pam.” 

“Then find it again.” Emily’s voice came out harsher than she intended and she gained Eric and Pam’s attention. Wiping her face with the back of her hand, she uncurled herself from her position. “Du lovade mig”, Emily said in Swedish, desperately, and her voice was thick with emotion. 

Something in Eric’s eyes shifted. Turned softer and sad. “I know I did, sweetheart, but the world has changed since then.” He grabbed Emily’s wrist and pulled her towards him - and even sick, Emily found out that Eric was still so much stronger than she was. She was only human after all - even if it was with a little something extra. Eric’s feelings were clear and honest at his next words as his hand rested on the side of Emily’s face, thumb lightly brushing away her tears. 

“My sweet little Emily”, Eric whispered, his lips forming a quick smile, sad and warm at the same time. “You are gonna go out there. You are gonna grow up to be a beautiful, smart woman, go to some stupid fucking university and find yourself a good, loving human husband. You’re going to have kids and you will tell them stories about their 1,000 years old vampire grandfather… and you will be happy… Do you understand?” 

Emily swallowed, her hand raising on top of Eric’s now-wrong-temperature hand. She only barely managed to croak out the tiniest of “yes”. Even though she knew she would not do any of that. 

“You should go. Both of you.” 

Pam was crying but she was the first to rise from beside Eric and start to walk towards the staircase. 

This is wrong! Emily’s mind screamed as she rose. Virus or no virus Eric was not just any other vampire - he was Eric! 1,000 years old vampire and a viking! Vikings had not just sat down and waited for death to come collect them! At least Emily didn’t think so. No. Vikings, they avenged. Just like Eric had avenged his human family only seven or so months ago. 

As his last act… Emily felt no guilt of thinking about this at that moment, no guilt about throwing someone else’s life to a path to death - as far as she was concerned the other person deserved it. 

As his last act before true death, Eric Northman could take revenge against the person who did this to him. 

“Sarah Newlin”, Emily said, turning back to face Eric again. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Pam turn on her heels a glint of surprise and (oh that traitorous) hope in her eyes. 

“What about her?” Eric asked, his eyes closed. 

“What if I told you that Jason Stackhouse let her live.” 

Eric’s eyes opened, his voice hardened. “He didn’t.” 

“He did”, Pam said, catching on to Emily’s plan. “And she’s out there.” 

“Where?” 

“No one’s seen her”, Emily said. 

“I have to imagine she’s in hiding somewhere”, Pam offered. 

Emily saw Eric’s jaw clench. Then… then, with what seemed like a heavy effort, Eric pushed himself up in the chair and slowly, slower than Emily was used to seeing the vampire’s motions - Eric Northman stood in front of her, grasping her shoulder, as his eyes once again roamed between his girls. 

“Well, let’s go find her.” 

Emily wasn’t naive. She knew that Eric was still dying, but at least now he wouldn’t just sit down here and wait for it. He would go down fighting. 

Just like he had taught her was the right way to go. 

Just like the viking he was supposed to be - just like Eric fucking Northman was supposed to fight. 

So, yes, Eric was still dying but at least now - and maybe it was selfish to think that way, but Emily didn’t find it in herself to care - Emily had a few more days to spend with the man who had taken her in as if she was his progeny instead of some orphan human child with empath powers. 

[wildernessuntothemselves]

Noona, Do You Have a Boyfriend? | Final Part

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 8.2k

Summary: Convinced that you’re bad for his friend, Minho lashes out at you, leaving you even more hurt and confused than you already were. 

Warnings: femdom, sub!jisung, sub!minho, dom!reader, slapping, degradation, bratty!minho, kinda virgin!minho, he never had his ass fucked before lol, threesome, voyeurism, lots of dirty talk as per usual, cumplay, cum and drool all over, minho getting broken, but like it’s all consensual, and the reader is attentive, even though she wants to punch him, minor aftercare, jealous!jisung, deep-throating, pegging, fingering, minho is a mess, this fic is a mess, and I gave up proof-reading it so yes

You miss Jisung.

He’s been avoiding you ever since your movie night, hurt by your rejection. You wanted to respect his decision, you really did, but you feel like shit not being able to see his smile every single day like you used to. It was like your morning cup of coffee; sure, you could survive without it, but then you’d be dull and lifeless the whole day and what’s the point in that? You miss hearing him laugh, his adorable little giggles, so boyish and carefree, they make whatever was troubling you seem trivial. He never smiles at you anymore… and your days have been significantly less bright for it. The only thing that breaks the ominous gloom that has taken over your life are the ripples of lightning that flash in his eyes whenever your eyes accidentally meet, the pain still fresh in his mind.

You’re at your wit’s end by now. Even if it’s selfish, you’ve decided that you’re not gonna take this any longer; you’re gonna go to him. To say or do what? You don’t know. All you know is that you can’t take being without him any longer.

With each step you take towards him, your world gets a little brighter, a sliver of sunlight shining through the dark grey clouds. You feel good about this. You can almost feel the warmth seeping through your skin…but then a terrible storm comes between you, blocking the heavens out of sight.

Minho appears out of nowhere—or maybe he had been there all along, and you just hadn’t noticed, too busy staring at your sunshine boy. He grabs you without a word, and drags you away.

“What are you doing?” You panic, whipping your head around you to see a confused Jisung watching Minho lead you out of the practice room.

“Whatever you’re thinking of doing, don’t.” He cautions as soon as you’re out of earshot, dark and unforgiving. “I’ve just barely gotten him to stop moping around because of you. I won’t let you destroy all the progress we’ve made so back off and let him move on.”

Oh. So apparently you weren’t that slick about your intentions. Minho must’ve noticed the longing glances you’ve been throwing at Jisung and the way you’ve been hovering around lately, nervous and trying to build up the courage to talk to him, something that Minho seems intent on preventing.

“Shouldn’t he be the one who decides if he wants to move on or not?” You bristle, feeling threatened by the boy who wants to take your sunshine away. You could feel your heart shrivel up at the thought that Jisung could move on from you so quickly. That—if it were up to Minho—another could be basking in the warmth that is him while you’re left behind, the only thing keeping you company is the memory of the sunlight on your skin.

Why does Minho want to hurt you like that? What did you do to him to deserve something so cruel?

“You know he won’t. He’s too sweet for his own good and that’s what you’re counting on, isn’t it?”

“Why are you talking to me like it’s my plan to hurt him? I care about him, believe it or not.”

“I don’t. Not after I’ve watched him bend over backwards to get you to like him when you’ve been nothing but a frigid bitch to him.”

“So you just expect me to reciprocate the attention of anyone who shows interest in me? Don’t I have the right to think about it? Matter of fact, have you ever considered that it’s his eagerness that put me off in the first place? Not everyone has their feelings on eleven, and some of us need some time before we can let someone in.”

“So what, you’re saying you like him now?” He sneers flippantly, mocking you.

“Maybe I do.” You mutter, fidgeting under his accusatory gaze.

“Maybe is not good enough. You said it yourself, Jisung feels too much. When he loves someone, he gives them his all, and he needs someone who can give their all to him as well, and let’s not kid ourselves, that person isn’t you. If you really cared about him then you’ll stay away from him. He can get over you if you back off now, but if you let him get too involved then decide you can’t handle him after all, it would crush him.”

“What if he hurts me? Why do you assume that I’d be the bad guy here?”

“Frankly, I don’t care if he hurts you. He’s my friend. He’s the one I care about.”

“Wow, thanks—”

“I’m serious.” He cuts you off, not caring to hear what you have to say. “Don’t fuck with my members. They’re my family. You don’t deserve him so just step aside and let him find someone who can love him like he needs.”

“I get it. You don’t like me. You don’t have to be such an asshole about it.” You retort, trying to act like his flippantly cruel comment hadn’t cut you up inside, but the mirthless chuckle doesn’t make it past your constricting throat and your eyes fill up with tears that you refuse to shed in his presence.

“I’m gonna… yeah.” You spin on your heel just before the first droplets break off, and scurry away.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

Waking up with a groan, you blindly throw your arm out from under the blanket and feel for the source of the noise that had ripped you away from your slumber at this undoubtedly ungodly hour. When your hand encounters the loathsome object, you bring it to your ear and answer it without even checking to see who was calling—and not caring to in your enthusiasm to curse them off for waking you up.

“I swear to god if this is not about someone dying—”

“Noona…” You almost miss the small voice over your own anger, stopping you in your tracks. You shoot up, all sleep suddenly leaving your eyes as you clutch the phone in both hands as if you can physically keep the other person on the line that way.

“Han?!”

“Did I wake you up, noona?” He asks dumbly, but your anger was suddenly nowhere to be found.

“No, nooo, I was already up…getting some water.” You wince at your stupid lie. It was obvious he’d woken you up. A quick glance at the clock tells you it’s three in the morning and your voice sounds like that of an eighty year-old man suffering from chronic lung disease, but you’re not about to tell him that. Shaking your head, you try to brush off the stupid. “Anyway, what’s up?”

What’s up? Apparently the stupid was more deeply ingrained than you thought.

“Oh, I… umm, I’m in the studio and I’ve been working on this song that… is just kicking my ass, you know? And…um,” He trails off into an awkward silence, the likes of which you haven’t experienced since middle school.

Was he waiting for you to finish his thought? You hope not because you had no idea where he was going with this. Was he looking for a pep talk or something? Oh god, what were you supposed to tell him? You weren’t prepared for this.

A frustrated sigh cuts off your panicked musings.

“I’ve told you before how you’ve been like a…a muse to me—oh god, that sounds so dumb and cheesy but it’s true, and without you around it’s just—”

Another deep sigh and a long pause. You can practically feel him telepathically willing you to understand what he needs but you were slow from sleep and your ability to figure out what he wanted without using words had gone rusty from disuse.

Still, the silence was suffocating so you decide to take a shot in the dark. “Do… do you want phone sex?”

“No! What? No!” He squeaks in that adorable panicked voice of his and despite the weird situation, it puts a smile on your face.

“Can you just come to the studio?” He ventures wearily, “Not to hook up or anything! I think I just… need you near me.”

You gasp at his confession. You’ve only dared to wish for something like this in your dreams, the time and distance that grew larger between you with each passing day having all but left you hopeless that he’d want you back.

Misinterpreting your reaction, he hurries to apologize, “I’m sorry. I know it’s a lot to ask and you probably don’t want to see me—”

“It’s not!” You cut him off, scared he’d hang up before you even had a chance to speak for yourself. “I want to see you, Han. I’ll be there soon.”

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

The big studio feels suffocatingly small with just the two of you inside, all the baggage you two have been carrying over the months taking up too much space for you to comfortably breathe. You needed to cast them away but you’re not sure how.

“So…what are you working on?” You valiantly, and awkwardly, break the loaded silence, startling Jisung as if he hadn’t expected to hear you speak.

Clearing his throat, he turns towards the control board and fumbles with the buttons. “Let me show you.”

He gives you no further instruction so you just stand there awkwardly for a few seconds before going ahead and grabbing one of the extra chairs and pulling it up to sit beside him.

“This is the song I told you about.”

As the song starts playing, he stares ahead, chewing on his bottom lip and not checking to see your reaction. When his voice comes on, he blushes a little. “This is just the demo. The finished version will have a much better vocalist like Woojin-hyung or Seungminnie to sing it.”

“I like your voice, Han.” You answer without thinking, but it’s true. Jisung may not be the main vocalist but you like the tone of his voice regardless. “I think it’s, um, sweet.

“You don’t have to flatter me, noona.”

“I’m not.” Your firm tone makes his eyes automatically look over to you. “I like it, ok?”

“Ok.” He bites his lips and looks straight ahead once again.

When the song finishes, he asks for your opinion.

“I like it…” You start, hesitating.

“But?”

“But I feel like it’s missing something.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” He exclaims, pressing his fingers against his temples in frustration. “But I can’t for the life of me figure out what it is.”

“I don’t know.” You mumble, stressed that he’s looking at you like he expects you to have an answer. “You’re the producer.”

“I know. I’m just frustrated and tired.” He rubs the back of his head sheepishly, “I’ve been working on it for so long but it’s still not right.”

“Why don’t you take a little break? Maybe it’s not working out because you’re forcing it.” You suggest.

“A break? Like do nothing?” He cocks his head at you, a little confused frown on his face as he considers your words, seeming as if the thought had never crossed his mind before.

“Yeah.”

“Oh, ok.” He blinks and leans back in his chair, his frown intensifying as if he’s hearing about the concept of relaxation for the first time in his life.

As cute as he looks right now—and he looks gosh darn cute with that kissable pout on his lips and the way he had tugged his legs against his chest, looking so tiny—you realize that you need to distract him before his mind goes haywire from overthinking.

“Or you could show me some of your other work?”

His eyes snap up to you, wide and excited at the proposition. “You wanna hear more of my stuff?”

You smile gently at him, assuring him that, “Yeah, I’d really like that.”

The awkwardness dissipates soon after that, as he—at first self-consciously, and then proudly—shows off his work to you, swelling up with each word of praise you profess to him, and you, in turn, swell up with a special kind of pride you’ve never felt for anyone before, a feeling that made you want to proclaim to the world that ‘Yeah, that’s my baby, right there. Isn’t he wonderful?’

You’ve always known that Jisung was gifted, but to get to see him in his element like this, his talent in its rawest form, was an experience you never knew you needed. He was so passionate and genuine about his work, it honestly made you a little teary-eyed.

“Wow, you’re really good at this stuff.” You conclude stupidly, having spent a couple of hours in the studio by now, just listening to some of his tracks and discussing where he wanted to take his music and what he wants to tell through it. You felt woefully under-prepared to even be a passive party in such a technical discussion, but Jisung insisted that talking to you helped him sort out his thoughts and come up with a bunch of ideas on how he might fix that track that has been causing him trouble.

“Thank you, noona.” The sweet boy blushes despite your less than graceful compliment. “I actually thought that maybe I could become a producer if this whole idol thing hadn’t worked out.”

“You’d be an amazing producer! Actually, whatever you would’ve chosen to do, I know you would’ve been amazing at it.” You gush with conviction. Maybe you were biased but you just know that your sunshine boy was talented enough to succeed at whatever his beautiful heart desired.

And through your stormy world, the sun shyly peeks behind the clouds as he smiles at you. Not just any smile, your smile, the one you’ve been aching for all this time, and you can’t help but stare, enraptured by it like a second sun had appeared in the sky.

But before you could soak up the light, it gets eclipsed by the gloom once again.

“Why didn’t you call me?” Jisung whispers, hunched over with his arms resting on his thighs, his gaze set on his twiddling fingers, avoiding your own.

“What?” You blink, the remnants of the light scattering from your eyes.

“I thought that maybe you’d miss me like I was missing you… but I guess you were right about me being dumb.”

“You’re not dumb!” You shoot out of your seat and stand over him, cupping his face in your hands and forcing him to look at you. “I did! I missed you so much!”

“But you never tried to contact me.” He breathes you in, and for a second, he gets lost in all that you are—your smell, the light in your eyes, the warmth of your hands, all the things that he had missed so dearly. He’s so busy soaking it all up that it startles him when your hands fall from his face to swing limply at your sides, breaking the spell.

“I did try but…”

“But what?”

Tears spring to your eyes as you recall what Minho had said. You don’t deserve him. His words rang in your ears like thunder, feeling truer now than they ever did after what you’ve witnessed today.

“Nothing.” You shake your head, embarrassed to admit the truth. You’ve never been this unsure of yourself. Not because of Minho—he could go fuck himself as far as you were concerned. But this was the first time you’ve been so completely enamored with someone like this. People tend to inflate their lover’s worth and you were no exception; to you, Jisung deserves the best, and you feared that you weren’t that.

Reclaiming your hands, he tugs on them gently, pulling you onto his lap. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

Despite the firm grip he has on your hands, his soft glittery eyes give him away. He was begging you to say something that would assuage his pain, to prove to him that you wanted this as much as he did and that the delay had been out of your hands.

You could do that. You could give him that much.

“Minho told me to stay away.” You confess, heart heavy and fearful that the words would be like a wake-up call to him, and he would realize that he deserved better after all. “He said that you deserve someone who could love you as much as you love them and that I’m not that person.”

At the uncharacteristically livid look on Jisung’s face, your anxious mind bungee jumps to conclusions, figuring that he must think that you’re lying to set his best friend up. You don’t even realize that you’ve started crying until you feel Jisung’s fumbling fingers wiping at your cheeks, trying to keep the tears at bay,

“Oh my god, don’t cry. Please don’t cry, noona. I’m going to kill him for doing this to you. I swear I will.” It would be a hard feat to take any death threat from Jisung seriously, but it’s even harder to when panic dilutes any edge his anger may have had. “Wait… is that why he pulled you out of the practice room that one time?”

You nod, pouting childishly as you remember the incident.

“That fucker! He told me that you were just trying to hook up with me and that’s why he stopped you!” He fumes, but yet again, his anger is quickly cut off by doubt and insecurity, “…you didn’t only want to hook up, right?” He asks, unsure.

“No!” You yell, frustrated beyond belief by how unnecessary all this heartache was, all because of his bitch of a friend. “Would I be here in the middle of the night, listening to your dumb songs for hours if I didn’t have feelings for you?”

“Hey! My songs aren— wait, you have feelings for me?”

“Do you think I sing A Whole New World with just any random dude?”

He bites his lip and tries to suppress his smile, but that only emphasizes his squirrel teeth, making you curse as you feel your heart leaping in your chest. Fuck, so cute.

You realize that you’ve said that out loud when he blushes and smacks your shoulder playfully, his teeth untangling from his lip to let his smile grow wide and unrestrained. “I want to hear you say it.”

You roll your eyes, “I like you, you dumbass.”

You had hardly finished saying it before you’re pulled into an enthusiastic kiss. “Then forget about what my dumb hyung said.”

“But what if he’s right? What if I can’t love you enough?” You fret, still unsure.

“Impossible. With just one call, you come running here, leaving your cozy bed behind to listen to my dumb songs without even the slightest prospect of getting dicked down? You’re whipped, noona.”

You smack him playfully, and yet you still can’t quite let it go. “What if I hurt you?”

“Isn’t that how all relationships go? Either you stay together or you break up.”

“You’re being super wise right now, it’s disturbing.” You pout, wrapping your arms around his neck and smothering him with chaste little kisses.

Impatient, he grabs your face and captures your lips in a real kiss. “You’d be surprised what my brain is capable of when not all my blood is flowing to my boner.”

You throw your head back laughing, finally starting to feel like things are going to be okay for the first time in a long time. “I love you my dumb, wise baby…”

“Oh, and Minho will pay for this.”

Jisung buries his face in your neck, chuckling lightly. “I’m already on it, babe.”  

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

Checking your phone, you take note of the time; Ten thirty. That means you had kept them waiting for almost 20 minutes now.

This was all part of Jisung’s plan to make his hyung “atone” for trying to sabotage your relationship—bringing him into your bedroom so you can fuck him up like he almost fucked you guys up, and if that happened to also satisfy his long-held fantasy of getting to see you fuck another guy in front of him... Well that was just the cherry on top for him, or so he claimed.

You knew just how thirsty he was for this, the weeks leading up to tonight filled with a whiny, impatient Jisung pestering you about why he can’t just bring Minho over already and accusing you of prolonging his wait just to torture him. And maybe you did, but it’s nothing he can prove.

Deciding to finally have mercy on him, you give yourself one last look in the mirror to make sure nothing was out of place and that the red robe you wore covered your bare body properly before you head out of the bathroom door and step out into your bedroom.

Immediately, your eyebrows shoot up in surprise at the scene in front of you.

Minho had your boyfriend pinned under him on the bed, both their clothes in a pile on the floor and their dick rubbing against each other as Minho grinded down on him.

Small moans escaped Jisung as he struggled against the hold Minho had on his arms, pinning them against the bed as he devoured the younger boy’s neck. You haven’t even started yet and they were already misbehaving. You had told them clearly to not touch each other while you were getting ready but apparently you should’ve never trusted these two.

Whatever, you’ll teach them to not disobey you again.

Taking your phone out of the robe’s pocket, you open the app that controls the plug you had put inside Jisung’s ass earlier and turn it on, causing the boy to suddenly yelp out and whip his head towards the bathroom door where you stand, freaking out when his eyes land on your unimpressed face.

“I tried to stop him, noona.” He attempts to justify his actions but you shush him, walking further into the room. “Sure, you did, brat. You know, I’m doing this whole thing to satisfy your sick fantasy, right? And yet you can’t even follow one simple instruction, can you?”

You turn the speed up a notch, making Jisung jolt a little in Minho’s grasp. “Ah, fuck, noona! I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.” You turn it up even higher.

Curious as to what’s happening, Minho pushes off the boy, cocking his head to the side as he takes a second to realize what has suddenly gotten the younger boy so riled up. His suspicions are confirmed when he pulls Jisung’s thighs apart to see the diamond-shaped bottom of the plug glimmering between his cheeks. Pressing on it, he pushes the part that had slipped out because of Jisung’s squirming back in, making the boy gasp and his fingers clutch at the sheet desperately.

“Hmm, cute. So this is what Jisungie has to make do with. How sad.” He sneers, fucking the toy in and out of him a few time before taking it out and throwing it to the ground at your feet. “It must kill you, that you don’t have a real cock to fuck him with, right?”

“But I do have one.” You retort easily, not missing a beat, and he frowns at you in confusion, flinching just a bit when you reach a hand out towards him. But he doesn’t stop you as your hand wraps around his hard dick and gives it a sharp stroke that has him involuntarily thrusting forward in your fist.

“It’s right here. As long as you’re in my bed, every part of you belongs to me.” You drawl, continuing to languidly stroke him. “Even your pretty little dick.”

Taking your hand off his again, you don’t miss the quiet hiss he lets out at the loss of stimulation. “Now fuck him well and don’t you dare disappoint me.” You deadpan, sitting down on the bed in front of them and looking at them expectantly.

Turning to Jisung with misplaced anger, he manhandles the poor boy, flipping him onto his stomach then grabbing him by the hips to push his ass in the air, allowing him to easily line up his dick with your boyfriend’s stretched out hole. He looks you right in the eyes as he orders him, “Beg for it, baby boy. Beg me to ram my cock inside you and fuck you like she can’t.”

Jisung hesitates and you can see the conflict on his face as he contemplates whether to obey Minho and piss you off or not obey him and piss him off. Impatient, Minho lands a harsh smack against the younger’s ass. “Beg or I’m not fucking you.”

Whimpering and already much too excited and desperate, that is enough to make up Jisung’s mind. “Please, fuck me, hyung. I’ve missed your cock so much.”

“Yeah? Why, baby? Does she not fuck you?” Minho goads, pushing just the tip of his dick inside the boy.

“She does, but it’s not the same. Your cock feels so much better, hyung.” Jisung throws his head back, moaning theatrically as Minho bottoms out inside him.

“Good boy.” Minho smirks at you as he puts his hands on Jisung’s slim waist and starts moving him over his length, fucking him slowly.

You roll your eyes at the two boys acting out, thinking they’re actually doing something there. You watch as Minho makes Jisung fuck himself on his dick instead of thrusting into him, moving the younger boy ever so slowly over his cock as he stares you down with an arrogant smile, knowing that you want to see him ruin Jisung, but choosing to tease you instead.

But two can play at this game.  

Loosening up the knot that held your robe closed, you slowly pull the fabric apart over your chest until it slides off your shoulders, exposing your breasts and hard nipples to their hungry eyes. You play with them, taking your time as you massage your breasts and lightly run your fingers over your nipples, only allowing the softest moans to slip from your lips, each one riling the boys up more. You smile as Minho unconsciously starts fucking the boy under him while Jisung lets out whimpering little moans, needing you both to stop teasing him.

“Noona, please spread your legs.” Jisung whines, eyes focused on the way your legs were rubbing together because of your own hands on your chest.

“You want me to expose myself to your hyung, baby? Don’t you have any shame? Wanting him to see what any other man would fight to keep to themselves?”

Jisung whines again and reaches out to push your legs apart himself. You act as if he took you by surprise, letting them get a glimpse of your pussy before you snap your legs shut and slap your boyfriend across the face. “You little pervert!”

He draws back and whimpers, pushing his ass against his hyung’s crotch and moaning out wantonly as the movement suddenly pushes Minho’s entire length inside his ass, the tip of it hitting his prostate.

“You want to see my pussy that bad?”

He nods, watching your hand snake between your legs to cover your crotch before you spread them open, your hand inconveniently covering your heat. “You want to show your hyung what you’ve been getting all this time?”

You grind the heel of your hand against yourself, the stimulation crude but arousing nonetheless, and you let out soft little moans.

“Yes, noona, please! I want to show him your pretty pussy.”

You giggle at your boyfriend’s pleas and start pulling your fingers off one by one, until the only thing standing between their hungry eyes and your glistening pussy is your middle finger that was still placed over your slit.

“But I don’t know if I he deserves to see.” You pout sadly, continuing to tease them, rubbing your finger up and down your slit, which proves to be too much for Minho who finally snaps. “For fuck’s sake, just show us your pussy!”

“Ah, hyung—” Jisung attempts to warn him but it’s too late, you clamp your legs shut and tie your robe back up. “I see where Jisung gets his brattiness from. That’s too bad. I was going to let you eat me out.”

Tauntingly, you brandish your soaked fingers in their faces, making a show of rubbing them together then pulling them apart so they’d see the thick strings of arousal that stretch between them.

Jisung cries out, pleading you for a taste, and you even see Minho lick his lips in anticipation. So you reach your hand towards him as if you’re going to let him have a taste, but just as he opens his mouth to take your fingers in, you drop your hand and wipe your fingers on the sheets.

“Bitch.”

“Oh honey,” You lean up close to his face, your words dripping condescension. “You’re the only little bitch here, and I’ll prove it to you soon enough.”

You can see that the threat gets to him as he stops fucking Jisung to warily watch as you get off the bed to retrieve the box you had prepared beforehand.

“I didn’t tell you to stop. Keep fucking him.”

But he can’t and his eyes remain on you as you get the box and settle back down on the bed, this time behind him. Craning his head back, he sees you taking out a bottle of lube and slathering some of it on your middle finger.

“What are you going to do?” He turns back towards you with panic in his eyes.

“What do you think? I’m going to finger you open so I can fuck your pretty ass.”

“What? You’re g-gonna fuck me? But I thought…”

“You thought what, that you’d be the one fucking me?” You sneer, making him flush with embarrassment and stare back ahead to avoid your sharp gaze, but you grab him by the jaw and force him to face you again. “You think I’d let your pathetic little cock anywhere near my pussy?”

Taking one of his hands in yours, you guide it between your legs, and he gasps out as he feels your wetness. “Did you really think you deserve to fuck this pussy?” You condescend, pushing his fingers inside you and letting him feel your tight heat around him.

“N-no.” He whimpers, fingers twitching as he tries to hold himself back from moving them.  

“No.” You confirm, ripping his hand away from you.

As you push him down on top of Jisung and line your finger with his entrance--ignoring the way your boyfriend glares back at you for squishing him under the older boy--Minho squeaks out, “Wait!”

“What now, brat?”

“I’ve… I’ve never done anything like that before.”

“What?” For the first time, you panic, and practically jump back.

“I’ve fingered myself before!” He quickly adds in when he sees the worry in your eyes, “I just have never been…uh… you know.”

“Fucked?”

“Yeah.” He stares dead ahead once again, too embarrassed to look at you.

“If you’re uncomfortable with it then that’s fine. You and Jisung could just keep fucking and we’ll end it at that.” You say, trying to convey to him that he completely had a choice in this and you would never do something he was uncomfortable with. Yes, this was his “punishment” and you weren’t exactly happy with what he had tried to do to you and Jisung, but you would never force anything on him.

“No, I want to try.” He mumbles quietly.

“What?” You prod, having heard what he said but needing him to say it loud and clear, not just to confirm that he was okay with this but because it was so sexy watching the hyper-bratty boy acting so shy.  “If you don’t speak up and say what you want clearly, I won’t give it to you.”

His head snaps back towards you, scared you’d follow through on your threat, and he was way too horny to stop now. “I want it.”

Smirking, you press your lubed up finger to his hole, not pushing it in yet but just rubbing against it. “What do you want?”

“You know what.” He grunts, hips tensing with the effort to not push back against your finger.

“Jisung baby, is this how a good boy asks for something?”

“No. Good boys beg for treats.” Jisung’s voice was strained with need as he wiggles his hips, his dripping dick pressed against his abdomen and the sheets as Minho’s weight lies on top of him, but doesn’t try to rush the both of you, understanding that this is a sensitive moment.

“You heard him, kitten. Beg.”

You can tell from the way his jaw clenches that he wouldn’t give in even before the insolent words come out of his mouth. “Fuck you.”

You smile menacingly, “Gladly.”

You push your finger inside of him, not too suddenly so as not to hurt him but quick enough to make him ache. “Just wait until I’m done with you. I’ll fuck that attitude right out of you.”

Minho grunts in disapproval at your words but he doesn’t protest as your finger starts exploring his tight ass, rubbing inside him in tight little circles, searching for the spot that would have him keening.

“I’m surprised you’ve never been fucked before. With the way you act, I would’ve guessed that someone would’ve already gotten sick of your shit and fucked you straight. God knows it’s all I could think about whenever I hear you run your bratty little mouth.”

“Don’t think too highly of yourself. This doesn’t even feel go–oh!” He tried to shoot you down but he embarrassingly fails when he feels your finger brush against his prostate, quickly silencing his retort.

“Shhh… that’s a good boy.” You jeer, pressing a firm hand to the small of his back to keep him in place as you start pumping your fingers, not wanting him to get ahead of himself. You can practically feel his body humming underneath you.

It doesn’t take him long to ask for more. “Fuck, go faster.”

“What’s the magic words, princess?” You mock.

“I ha-ate you.” He stutters, making you laugh. “I hate you too, darling, but those are not quite the words I’m looking for.”

When your finger is easily thrusting in and out of him, you pull it out to squirt more lube onto it, covering your index finger along with it too then pushing them both inside of him, smirking at the way he braces himself against the stretch and knowing that he’ll be feeling good again in no time.

And sure enough, he’s soon mewling and squirming in your grasp as he unconsciously fucks the boy underneath him, his hips thrusting down with each push of your fingers against his prostate. Jisung was whimpering under him, enjoying the erratic way Minho was drilling into him was making his own dick grind against the sheets.

“That good, huh?” You drawl at the two boys.

“So good.” Jisung whimpers, but Minho still can’t get himself to give in.

“Shut up—AH!” He throws his head back, moaning out.

“I think he’s gonna cum soon, noona.” Jisung warns you, “I can feel him twitching inside me.”

“Oh no, he won’t.” You declare, pulling him up so his dick slips out of Jisung, both of them crying out in frustration, but Minho’s whining was significantly louder, not used to your teasing the way Jisung was. You smirk as you force him to sit back on his heels and wrap a hand tightly around the base of his cock to staunch his release. He was so close to breaking now.

“Grab the cockring from the box, baby.” You tell Jisung, and Minho kicks up a fuss as the younger boy slips out from under him, struggling in your arms. “No, no, I don’t want it!”

You exchange an amused look with Jisung as he hands you the cockring. “He really thinks he gets to have a say in this. What a silly kitten.” You laugh, putting the ring on him anyway. “There, now it’ll be much harder for the little kitty to misbehave.”

You push him back on his hands and knees, ordering Jisung to get the strap and put it on you. He excitedly obeys, buckling it up for you and even putting lubing it up, impatient to finally see you fucking his hyung.

“Good boy.” You cup his face and give him a sweet kiss, then, in a hushed voice so Minho wouldn’t hear, you ask, “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

Right away, Jisung smiles and nods, kissing you once again and letting out a muffled “yes” against your lips before he excitedly pulls back in order to watch.

Turning your attention back to Minho, you make sure he’s alright too. “I’m going in, kitten, okay?”

“Do it.” He grits, this time unable to hold back the slight way his ass pushes back against you.

Assured that they’re both completely on board with this, you get back into character. Lining the strap-on with his ass, you start pushing the fake dick into him slowly. He whimpers with each inch of it that slides into him and when it’s all the way in, he lets out a long sigh. You remain still for a while as he adjusts, and then for a little while longer just to see him squirm and try to get you to start fucking him.

“You’re so stubborn, kitten, but your body betrays you.” You tease, finally moving your hips. Minho moans quietly as your cock drives into him, bashful little noises he can’t control as his pleasure easily builds up again because of your prolonged teasing.

Shuffling up the bed so he’s kneeling in front of Minho, Jisung hooks a finger under the older boy’s chin to lift his face up towards him. He clearly likes what he sees on his hyung’s face because he bites his lip and his other hand slithers down his body to tug at his own cock.

“Feels good, doesn’t it, hyung?” Jisung asks, but it seems like he wasn’t interested in getting an answer because as soon as his hyung opens his mouth to speak, Jisung pushes his thumb inside and presses down on his tongue.

You don’t fail to notice the hungry way Jisung was regarding Minho as he struggles to mouth his words despite the obstruction. You knew what your boy wanted, and he was long overdue to get his reward anyway.

“Go ahead, baby, use his mouth.” You inform Jisung and grab onto Minho’s hair to keep his head up and his mouth level with Jisung’s cock. “Since he interrupted you so rudely earlier.”

“Thank you, noona!” Jisung gushes, paying no thanks to the person who is actually going to have his dick in his mouth because at this point--just like you had told him earlier--Minho was just a toy for you to play with your boyfriend with. As long as he was in your bed, his body was yours to do with as you please, and right now it pleases you to see him choking on Jisung’s dick.

But Minho still resists, and when Jisung presses the head of his dick against his mouth, he refuses to let him in. Unfortunately for him, Jisung was too wound up to entertain his defiance, and he promptly grips his hyung’s jaw and digs his fingers into his cheeks, pucking his lips open and shoving his length between them and into down his throat.

A loud moan tears out of his own throat when he feels Minho choke around his length, but his pleasure is marred by guilt and he forces himself to pull out in order to allow Minho to breathe. You don’t let him though, quickly stepping in and using the grip you had on Minho’s hair to push his head back down Jisung’s cock because, unlike Jisung, you don’t feel sorry for the older male at all. You hold him like that for a couple of seconds as he struggles to breathe through his nose that was nestled in Jisung’s crotch.

“Don’t be nice to him, Sungie. He tried to break us apart. Use him however you want.” You grunted, finally let Minho go.

Mercifully, Jisung gives him a few seconds to clear his throat, coughing and spluttering violently, before he replaces your grip with his own and pushes his length back inside his hyung’s mouth.

The sight of Jisung holding Minho by his hair and fucking his mouth like that reminds you of the time he did the same thing to you, holding you down with his cock sheathed down your throat. You had to admit--seeing it happen in front of you--you get why it turned him on so much back then, and the lewd sounds of Minho gagging and slurping around Jisung’s cock only works you up further.

Picking up the pace, you try to match your thrusts with Jisung’s, the both of you brutally fucking the poor boy whose moans get louder and garbled like he’s trying to tell you something. Too far gone in ecstasy, Jisung doesn’t notice but you do. You push Jisung back a bit, making him whine as you stop his abuse of the other boy’s throat so you can ask him what he wants.

“I want to cum.” He splutters hoarsely, drool falling down to the sheets as he coughs.

“Still not how you ask. Do you want to try again?” You wait for him to beg, but he still resists. “No? Alright. Jisungie, do you want to cum, baby?”

“Yes, please, let me, noona!” It’s easy for you to make Jisung beg, yet you still look at him with adoration and pride every time he does it.

“Okay, but I want you to do it on your hyung’s face. Want you to cover his pretty face with your cum. Can you do that for me, love?”

“Fuck, yes, noona.” Jisung bites down harshly on his lip, his hand immedietly going to his dick and pumping it furiously as he watches you continue to fuck Minho.

“I think he wants it, noona. His tongue is practically hanging out of his mouth.” Jisung teases the older boy whose face was mere face inches from his red and swollen dick. “Ready, hyung?”

When Jisung cums, it lands all over Minho’s face, covering him with his sticky seed and joining his drool to drip down onto the mattress. With a final grunt, the last spurt of cum lands on Minho’s cheek. Reaching out a hand, Jisung smears his cum all over Minho face, watching with ecstasy-laden eyes as his hyung shudders with need under his fingertips.

“I can’t—shit… please, please, please, ah, don’t stop, p-please, god… cum-ah...” Minho blabs, barely coherent as the need seizes his brain and pushes out every last bit of pride. He had finally broken.

Satisfied, you pull Minho up into a sitting position and give Jisung the go ahead. He quickly grips Minho’s cock and jerks him off in much the same way he did his own cock seconds earlier.

“Come on, hyung, cum for us now.” Jisung coos at him, but Minho doesn’t give in yet, scared that this was a trick somehow. Turning his head to look back at you, he looks to be on the verge of crying. “Please.”

Wow, you had really done him in.

Chuckling, you reassure him that he can cum. “Don’t worry, kitten. You can cum. You’ve done such a good job so go ahead, baby. Cum.”

Giving him the final push he needs, Minho lets the powerful orgasm Jisung’s hand and your strap-on give him, letting out loud sobs as he shakes and clutches onto Jisung’s shoulders, his cum painting your boyfriend’s stomach white and dripping down to his cock.

When you pull away to take off the strap-on, Minho slumps down into Jisung’s arms, the younger boy holding him in his embrace and awkwardly running his hand up and down his back in an attempt to soothe his overwhelmed hyung despite him not having any experience in the aftercare department.

“There, there.” Jisung’s wide eyes stare at you, silently asking you for help, and you could almost laugh at the sheer panic you see in them.

Although you still weren’t one-hundred percent over what Minho had done to you in the past, it only takes a moment of seeing the shivering mess that had become of him for your instincts to kick in and compel you to take care of him.

Wanting to help the both of them out--your boyfriend who looked like a teenager holding a newborn baby like he’s afraid he’d break him, and Minho who might as well have been born again for how new the experience was to him-- you quickly put the toys aside and go back to the boys.

Pressing a hand to Minho’s back, you caress his skin softly and whisper to him, “Shh, baby, it’s okay. You’re okay. You did good. You’re such a good kitten.” You trail your hand up to push his hair out of his face so you can look him in the eye and convey your sincerity to him.

You hear a small huff, but it hadn’t come from Minho. You look up at your boyfriend to see him frowning at you, his eyes narrowed and his expression all but asking you what the hell you were doing.

You shoot him a sharp look that tell him to behave then you turn back towards the older boy in his arms. “Think you can handle a shower right now, kitten?”

He shakes his head, burying his face in Jisung’s neck and letting out a muffled whine, “Don’t wanna.”

“What a baby.” Jisung snorts under his breath and it takes everything in you not to grab him and give him a good spanking for acting so selfish and thoughtless.

You give him another sharp looks that has him cowering, and try to keep the edge out of your voice as you talk to Minho. “That’s okay, I’ll just go grab a towel to clean you up. Sungie, stay with him until I come back.”

“But, I--” Jisung starts protesting, a severe pout scrunching up his face at having to take care of his hyung when he’s usually the one being taken care of.

“No buts, don’t be selfish now.”

“Humph!”

“Be good now and I’ll reward you later.” You sigh and go to kiss the top of his head, thinking that it’ll end at that.

But as you get up to get the towels, Jisung follows you anyway, peeling his hyung’s fingers off of him and leaving him curled up on the bed alone.

“What did I say?” You grit, not feeling up to taking care of both your pouty boyfriend and his needy hyung. He’s the one who wanted this so bad in the first place, the least he could do is help you.

“Why are you being so nice to hyung?”

“It’s called aftercare, Jisung. This was his first time getting pegged, he needs the support or he could go into subdrop.” You explain patiently, but Jisung didn’t look like he was interested in listening.

“What about me?” He whines insolently, backing you up against the counter, one of his hands going between your legs. “You’re my girlfriend, not his.”

You shiver as you feel his fingers teasing your slit, reminding you of how you’re the only one who didn’t get to cum. “And you’re my big boy. I know you can handle not being the center of attention for one night. You hyung needs me more than you do.”

“He didn’t even make you cum.” He scoffs.

“I’ve got you for that, angel.” You moan as he flicks your clit and you pull him into a hungry kiss.

“You’re mine, noona.” He mumbles against your lips and pulls you up onto the counter-top, wedging himself between your legs. You don’t get the chance to ask him to fuck you before he’s already sliding into your wet heat. How is he hard again so fast? “Not his. Mine.”

You sigh, grabbing onto his ass and directing his thrusts, setting a fast pace in order to cum fast so you wouldn’t leave Minho alone for too long. “I should’ve known you’d act like this. You’re too jealous for something like this. I shouldn’t have humored you.”

“Sex is just sex, but this is different. I don’t like seeing you fussing over him like this. I don’t wanna share you, noona.”

“You’re not sharing me.” You kiss your way up his neck and along his jawline. When you reach his lips, you pull back ever so slightly so your noses are still touching. “Look at me, baby. I’m yours only.”

His hips stutter at your words and he moans helplessly. “Fuck, say that again.”

You smile in amusement at how much that affects him. Putting your lips next to his ear, you drawl, “I’m yours, Sungie.”

“And I’m yours, noona.” He professes, sticking his hand between you to rub you off quickly so you’d cum together. Your thighs shake as your orgasm rushes through you, and the way you clench around him pushes him over the edge too, his cock filling you up with his cum and his sweet moans bouncing off the walls of the bathroom.

You lay quietly in each other’s arms for a minute, the sound of your panting gradually tapering off until everything is silent.

“He’s sleeping on the couch, right?” Jisung disturbs the silence with his sullen question.

“Sungie…”

“Ugh, fine, but I’m sleeping in the middle.”

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

A/N: Can you tell I gave up on it? anyway this is the final part so there will be no more parts of this. I loved this series but I’m done with it lol. Anyway let me know what you think of the final chapter. did it live up to your expectations or would you rather I never posted it? skskskks

[battlestar-royco]

let’s talk about tropes

here’s a little (little?!) post on tropes, as promised!

some tropes i hate and why i hate them

love triangles: this one’s pretty simple and obvious. love triangles are unrealistic and toxic. they romanticize emotional cheating, and they cause nasty ship wars in fandoms, especially when two of the points in the triangle are women. often, the “losing” point of the triangle is a one-dimensional throwaway character who either gets killed off or accepts their fate and steps back for the “winner” to take over. this dynamic can get especially problematic when the “loser” is a woc and the “winner” is white, when the “loser” is an lgbtq+ character, and/or when the “loser” has no purpose other than to create drama for two other fleshed out characters. the character often ends up being hated for bad writing and “getting in the way” of the endgame ship. yikes. the only valid resolution to love triangles, imo, is a polyamorous relationship!!!

girl hate: it’s rare to see nice friendships and romances between women, and often this trope is used to drive an unnecessary wedge between two female characters who would have otherwise been great friends. i don’t mind when two women/girls are in conflict with one another for an interesting reason, but i absolutely hate when the conflict is based on something stereotypical and boring. the “girl hate” conflict is always based on something misogynistic, unrealistic, and/or stupid--like a man, looks, sexual practices, or a contrived competition. this is especially gross when the men in the story act as the voices of reason in the conflict, patronizing the women and teaching them how to be nice and use logic.

“strong female characters”: many writers mistake “strong” characters for characters who employ violence, sassiness, and masculine attributes to get what they want. I’m so over it. all I want is nuanced representation of women that doesn’t reduce them to a love interest or a sex object who looks down on other women. strength comes in many forms, and everyone defines it and identifies with it differently.

miscommunication: this has to be one of the laziest forms of prolonging drama, when two characters are fighting because of something that could easily be solved if they were locked in a room together for five minutes.

incest/incest-adjacent romances: this should go without saying, but we’re for some god-awful reason going through a period where incestuous relationships/fake-outs (ie, you’re in love with him? too bad he’s your brother. oh wait, it’s revealed that he’s not!/you two are blood related but you either never met or you went through a period of separation, so that means you can fall in love) are heavily romanticized or used to create extra drama, and it’s just unnecessary and not cute. i think authors use this to add some sort of edge or uniqueness to their writing, but it’s just so toxic and a complete turn-off for me.

aesthetic oppression: (term inspired by and similar to “aesthetic conflict,” thanks kat) when an author throws in some sort of oppression that is experienced by people in real life, but they either don’t address the oppression thoroughly or they only use it to add some sort of edge to their story and further a character’s romance, death, redemption arc, etc. for example, the homophobia in GOT season 6, which reduced loras to a walking stereotype of a gay man before he was subjugated by the church sept and blown up, and the patriarchy in ACOTAR that only exists to show how feminist rhysand is.

boys/men fighting, having tantrums, or expressing themselves through violence: it’s fine for male characters to fight every once in a while, but i just hate that this seems to be exclusively employed with male characters and it is used as a solution or reaction to problems when realistically, men are much more nuanced. men cry. they might be alone or in front of others. they might cry into their pillow or on a friend’s shoulder. fictional men add violence and anger to their sadness because the authors don’t want to emasculate them, but that’s a stupid goal and crying doesn’t affect someone’s gender. smashing your belongings when you are upset is unhealthy and potentially dangerous, and so is physically fighting others over trivial or patriarchal issues (ie a woman) when conversation could be/is probably much more compelling and effective. it’s important to show men that anger isn’t always the first emotion to feel under duress and that they don’t have to express their feelings by punching walls or throwing their belongings across the room. (also?! practically? YOU’RE RUINING YOUR OWN FUCKING STUFF AND/OR YOUR ROOMMATE/FRIEND/PARTNER’S STUFF, YOU ASSHOLE.)

sexy immortals: immortality can be used in clever and entertaining ways, but i feel like a lot of the immortals i’ve been seeing lately run in the same vein as the twilight vampires, which is to say: unearthly beautiful (aka conventionally attractive), overly sexy (aka stalking a love interest for the sake of “attraction”), apparently 16-25 years old (aka accessible to grown women who read/write ya).

uninvolved parents or non-existent guardian figures: sometimes young characters don’t have parents and that’s fine; some of my favorite books are about characters with one parent or no parents. but i still feel like we’re coming out of a period where it was very popular to kill off the parents (especially moms) at the beginning or before the story starts. i really want to see more exploration of characters with parents, or at least see the characters without parents make significant relationships with adults or react appropriately to the loss of their parents.

one-off character deaths: when a character enters one chapter or episode of a book/show just to immediately die for cheap emotional manipulation. this character is also sooooo often a marginalized person, and it’s super predictable and tired. try harder, author/screenwriter!

some tropes i love and why i love them

special snowflake/chosen one: I can’t explain it. I know it’s so cliche and one of the most hated ones out there, but I love when this trope is done right. I’m not a big fan of the chosen ones who have a special destiny, especially if the mc is a white boy, because that’s been done a million times before. but I’m a sucker for that one character who comes upon an unexpected special ability/object/creature or connection to a force of good/evil/nature and has to contend with that. They’ve been Chosen and they’re completely unprepared, and it’s gonna change their life trajectory and relationships and maybe even political climate.

woobies!!!: I feel like this trope is so underrated and it’s one of my favorites of all time. I absolutely love rooting for that one character who’s too good for any of the shit they’ve been through and Deserves Better^TM, but they manage to survive and grow against all odds.

found family: i love that authors are expanding the concept of family and unconventional narratives about love. the found family trope is so charming and relatable to many readers, and it’s great to see seemingly contrary characters come together to find a loving home together that isn’t necessarily romantic.

soft characters: it’s rare (though increasingly less rare, fortunately) to find soft boys, aka male characters who are compassionate, funny, kind, pensive, and/or quiet instead of brash, loud, violent, and angry. i know so many boys and men who fall all along the spectrum of masculinity, and it would be great to see more characters who represent that, especially because male characters are typically forced to express their masculinity in one way. i also absolutely love seeing women being equally as soft and kind--with the exception of ASOIAF!sansa, i feel like this kind of character has been cast aside for the sassy, rebellious, empowered^TM female character who isn’t like other girls and wields a bunch of weapons. i’d really like to see more female characters whose strengths come from empathy, intelligence, and emotion.

unique relationships within a friend group/ensemble: this one is marginally related to my love of found families. not only do i really like tight, strong friend groups, but i also like when each of the friends within that group has a different and compelling dynamic (hostile, romantic, friendly, tragic, whatever may have you) that can carry a scene or an arc. unique relationships between all the characters in an ensemble adds so much dimensionality to a story.

complex guardian figures: this mostly applies to ya, but i think it can also be said for many adult books and tv shows. adult characters often get flattened or sidelined for romance or action plots when in reality almost everyone has parent/guardian relationships, and these relationships are the source of so much complexity. that complexity may mean love, found family, anger, patronization, manipulation, and more, and all these things will be expressed differently based on the characters in question. for example, look at the difference between eleven and hopper from stranger things and harry and dumbledore from harry potter. hopper and dumbledore are so different and each of them carry darkness and baggage that comes out on the kids for better and worse. bonus points if the guardian is a woman, because these types of relationships between girls and women are relatively rare to the ones between boys and men.

anti-heroes/anti-villains: i think this is another one that goes without explaining. we’re all the hero of our own story, after all. if an author can successfully convince me to root for a character who i know is wrong but believes they’re in the right, or for a character who does the wrong things for the right reasons, there’s a good chance that i think very highly of that author.

stoic, bitter, angry characters: if there’s one character in the ensemble who has any of these traits, there’s a good chance they’ll be my favorite, especially if that character is a woman. usually this character’s journey is about what makes them vulnerable and how they become close with the most unlikely companions or form a special relationship with a foil character. it makes the audience feel like we’re being let in on a secret, specifically about that character.

and that’s about it! my inbox is always open to talk more in depth about any of these and more, so let me know. thanks so much for 700, you all are great :D

[flamingpossums]

“I know you’re awake, Twells.”

Writing One Electric Boogaloo: The Part Where He Blackmails Him under the cut babey! (Writing one out of one most likely b/c this is just a dumby ask blog and I don’t see myself making more writings on here unless i decide it deserves a writing lolol)

Gene grabbed his hat from on top of the arsonist’s head, holding it to his lap as he crept forwards. His footsteps were distinct amongst the silence of the house.

“Hng...tired… Gimme five more minutes,” Farrow slurred, eyes slowly squinting open. They were immediately squeezed back shut as Gene clicked on a flashlight, shining it directly in his face. “Fuck, man, is that necessary?”

“Absolutely not. Wake up, Farrow. You and I? We’re gonna have a talk.” Gene spoke precisely.

“I’m not talking to mafia scum like you.” An eye squinted open, and Farrow spat on Gene’s shoes. He was in his living room, some of the furniture moved aside out of his reach. The lights were off and the curtains were drawn.

“...Hm. Already defiant, aren’t we? You do understand that the more you disobey, the heavier your punishment’ll be, right?”

“...Punishment?”

“I’m not here to have a pleasant evening chat over tea, Farrow. I have business to settle here. Now listen-- I’ve found that you’re not really the Bodyguard you claim to be, is that right?” Gene’s hand flicked downwards, veering the flashlight below with it. It illuminated the lower half of Farrow’s face.

“Don’t think you need to know, Trenchcoat.” Farrow’s lips curled up into a scowl as he spoke. Amused chuckling followed from Gene.

“No need to keep acting tough, Mr. Twells. Or should I say, Mr. Farrow? Perhaps even the long forgotten Mr. Retner? Whichever one of your identities you’d rather go under today. Go ahead, choose.” From his coat came a briefcase, and from that slim black briefcase he took out a small stack of loose papers-- he held them out to Farrow like a deck of cards. Miscellaneous papers, the lot of them, but all of them shared one common trait: his alibis were written all over them. Farrow’s scowl was wiped off his face.

“Where’d you get these?” He blurted. “I… I don’t even remember half of these?”

“They’re all yours, bud. I don’t tell anyone my sources.” Farrow reached out to snatch them back, but his arms were restrained at the sides. He writhed around and grit his teeth, Gene watching his pitiful attempts and smirking. “I know many things about you, Mr. Farrow. You’re a rather interesting character. More interesting than the pathetic crooks I deal with every other day. So, thanks! Thanks for making my work a little more tolerable.” His eyes squinted up, hinting to a sly smile below his mask.

“What the hell do you want from me?” Farrow growled. “Sure, you’ve found me out. What are you gonna do, reveal me to death? I don’t care. Do it. Have fun with it. By the time they hang me I’ll be back.”

“Ah, yes, your revival. Funny you mention that, actually. Delving into your peculiar mystery of a past I found death records. The first, I was sure it was faked, but the second one? My my, how weird is it that a man found dead would be up and talking to me personally three or so years later? Lucky me.” Gene giggled. “Mendel Slovak-- really interesting character as well. I didn’t look too much into him-- for once that’s not my business--but he did a good favor getting you out of that graveyard, huh? Or, well, dumpster.” Another one of his irritating chuckles. Farrow glared and grit his teeth more forcefully, both out of anger and the anxiety that undeniably started boiling inside him.

“Seeing that if you die you’ll just be revived again,” Gene continued, “my mafia has so kindly arranged a special death for you, if you go against my demands. One you won’t cheat.” He shoved his face closer to Farrow’s, flashlight casting a shadow over it. Farrow pressed his back to the chair, eyes widening. “As I like to put it...they won’t find your body.”

“...Personal space exists, fuckhead.”  Gene backed right back up into his former position. “And what are you asking for? Money? A town? Multiple towns? I’ve got a few up my sleeve I don’t care about anymore, take them. I really don’t care.” Farrow’s eyes went back to being narrowed in a weary glare.

“Not exactly, although that does sound nice. What I need for you is something different. Something more...helpful.” Gene wrung his hands together as he gathered his thoughts.

“Just tell me what you need and I’ll get it for you, if it means you’ll fuck off.”

“Alright, so, I had a simple request for you, but seeing as you’ve had a...rather rocky past with the mafia, I suppose I should give you a choice in the matter rather than trying to get you to do something you’ll probably obnoxiously refuse to do. See? I’m nice. Usually, I wouldn’t give you a choice, right? But I’m nice.” Another invisible grin crept on Gene’s face as he turned around, back faced to Farrow. “Here’s your choices, Mr. Farrow. Either you can join the Mafia--”

“You’re fucking stupid if you think I’ll ever associate myself with you.”

“Easy, now, I wasn’t done,” Gene spat, pivoting back to face him. “...Either you can join the Mafia, be whatever you’d like-- Mafioso, maybe a Forger, Blackmailer...You name it, and if you’re qualified, you’re under our wings.”

“...And what’s my second option?”

“Well, this one’s a little lengthy. But in the end, it’s fair.” He tapped his own chin in thought. “You’ll tell us the names and roles of your little Neutral friends. As many as you can name. We already know about your brother, so you don’t--”

“You don’t lay a fucking hand on him,” He snarled. “I’ll knock your damned lights out.”

“Hey, now. Nobody’s getting hurt if you play along, Farrow. You’re to tell us about all your neutral killing friends; we won’t kill them-- we can’t, most of them will be night immune. But it’ll give us information to work with.” Farrow remained silent.

“Secondly, you’ll douse who we tell you to douse. This may include some of your friends--none of your family, but ah, maybe a few you won’t mind being picked off. You are not to douse anyone who is in or working with the Mafia, and we’ll make sure of that.”

“This deal sounds terrible.”

“I’m not done yet, idiot,” Gene snapped. “Thirdly, you are to not speak anything about the Mafia. You will not mention us. To everyone including yourself, I’m an Investigator. Got it? You are not to talk bad about the Mafia, and you are not to tell anyone of the existence of the Mafia. Zip.” Gene made a zipping gesture over his mouth. Farrow simply rolled his eyes. “If you do as much as mention the Mafia, you’re dead, and you’re not coming back. Understand that? Dead forever.”

“Wow, I’m so scared. I’m, like, shaking right now.” Farrow scoffed. “The hell’s in it for me, then, if I gotta do all this bullshit?”

“Many things, Farrow. I am working with you, not against you. First of all, if you keep up to my demands for two weeks--that’s it, two weeks of your compliance is all I need-- your secrets are safe with me. The town’ll be blissfully unaware of your presence as an arsonist, your past, your alibis, every single one of your major and trivial crimes. You won’t be hung up in the middle of town. And most importantly, your family and friends shall remain safe and sound. Sounds good, doesn’t it?”

“My...hold on a minute. And if I refuse to do all this garbage?” Farrow furrowed his eyebrows curiously.

“Well, then all your secrets are out, and the town’ll be running to hang you in an instant. Your friends and family’ll quickly find their way as targets for us, and we’ll do anything in our power to swiftly take care of them.” Gene smiled and cocked his head. “I think you’ll find it wise to play with us rather than against us. We take all this very seriously.”

“You fucker. Do whatever the hell you want to me, whatever, kill me in your favorite way or whatever, but leave them out of this.”

“Sorry, Farrow. I already know you value your life as much as you value, ah, a crack in the sidewalk. We need to have something of actual value at stake here, Mr. Twells.”

“You’re not fucking touching them!” He writhed some more, but the ropes weren’t giving away anytime soon. “Literally, take anything you want, my house, my money, whatever! I don’t care! I don’t want them pulled into this shit!”

“Rules are rules, my friend.” Gene chuckled, backing up a bit. “Besides, I’ve set up an easy deal for you. Just do what I ask of you and they’ll be spared. It’s not that hard!”

“We’ll just kill you, you bastard. We’re stronger than you are! You and your goons’ll have your intestines strung up like decorations in your stupid base! My dad’ll fucking shred you!”

Gene smirked.

“Mm. I’m afraid if you attempt any sort of aggression or violent action towards us, we’ll have all of you neatly arranged dead on the ground right tucked into the alley between this house and the neighbor’s. Remind you of anyone, Farrow?” His eyes squinted up in the smuggest smile one’s ever seen.

“...I’ll fucking kill you, you little bitch.” Farrow started thrashing in another attempt to get out of the ropes, anything it’d take to get his hands wrung around Gene’s throat. “I’ll kill you!” He shouted.

“We’ll be having none of that, Mr. Twells.” Gene calmly packed up his suitcase and tucked it inside his coat. Ana flew onto his shoulder following his familiar welcoming whistle, simply tilting her head at the man seething with rage right behind the two. “I suggest you start watching your words from now on, Farrow. I’ve so cleverly bugged you, so anything you say’ll be tracked and logged. No naughty words, alright? We’re watching.” Gene looked over his shoulder and tilted his head. Ana mimicked him, cocking hers to the right as well. Farrow ceased his futile struggling, slumping down in the chair in defeat and breathing slightly heavily. His neck, usually numb, started sending aches down his shoulder and the side of his face. Listening to whatever jargon he has left for him, he glared daggers into Gene.

“Remember the deal I made with you, alright? Feel free to write it down for yourself once you’re free. Just don’t show it to anyone, alright? I’m watching you, Farrow.” He winked.

“Fuck you,” Farrow murmured.

“Two weeks.” Gene held up two fingers, nearing the door. “Two weeks is all. I’ll be seeing you, Farrow. Farewell.” He flicked off the flashlight and set the hat back on his head, tilting it as a goodbye.

“Wait!” Farrow called out. “I’m still tied!”

“Oh, you know well if I untie you you’ll just go for my throat. Your dad’s coming home soon, anyways. Ask him to do it for you.” He giggled. “See you!” He opened the door and shut it behind him.

Farrow lay still for a minute, eyes wide as he tried to process exactly what had just gone down. He couldn’t slide lower into his own chair due to the ropes.

This guy, although hard to admit, knew almost everything about him. He even knew about the smallest things that happened almost 15 years ago!

“God, fuck me,” he grit.

The ominous shadow looking outside the window disappeared into the night the instant Gene started hightailing it home. The clouds gently wafted along to eventually uncover the kindly shining gibbous moon, and the winds picked up outside the house. A creak sounded out from the attic. Farrow shut his eyes and considered just sleeping this off. He waned into sleep….

A loud crash sounded out, and a grown man fell out through the attic. He landed on the floor and swore a bit, quickly getting up. His hands were full of cat food.

“Shit, sorry about that, mate.” Farrow, already disturbed, stared at him silently. “Where’d the guy go?”

“Were you there the entire time? Who...who even are you?!” The blonde man winked and stuck out his tongue playfully.

“I’ve gotta go! Nice seeing you!”

“Wait, wait! Untie me! Fuck, come back!” The man turned around and grinned.

“You’re lookin’ awful tied up, aren’t ya? Aww, that’s too bad. But you’ll be fine, don’t sweat it!” He stood silent, just grinning, the two staring at each other for a solid few seconds. “...Well, bye!” He slammed the door shut.

“Fucker!” Farrow screamed, kicking his own chair. He threw his head back and groaned audibly. Now there were two grown men hightailing after Gene, each for their own entertainment. Farrow sat still tied up in his own living room, and the night dragged on.

[owlways-and-forever]

Summary: Lily Evans thought her life would be normal. Well, as normal as it can be for a muggle-born witch in England. But when her boyfriend turns out to be the prince of the wizarding world, and tensions begin to rise among factions of wizarding society, Lily must find her way in situations she never anticipated, and try not to lose sight of her identity. Word Count: 5,301 (37,527) Links: ao3 | FFnet | Tumblr: Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ch 8

A/N: Aha, cheers to another chapter! I know it’s been a while, but if you’ve been watching my activity on AO3 or FFnet, you know that I’ve been taking part in a few writing challenges, so my MCs have been getting a little less attention. But I have finally completed another chapter! This one was hard to write because it was really emotional, but it also felt important to the story. As I write, I keep deciding there are going to be more and more chapters, because there’s more that needs to happen, so I guess the good news is that this story is nowhere close to ending. I’m relying on all of you for feedback and to let me know what you’d think of this story (and weigh in - do you want to see a happy ending, or lots of angst?)! So please please please, leave a review, I live for them! Okay folks, that’s the end of my speech, so without further ado - Chapter 9! Enjoy!

———–

Chapter 9

Lily and James sat at an outdoor table of a little muggle cafe on the outskirts of London. It was a bit risky, sitting outside, anyone could see them, but they were in a pretty heavily muggle area. The odds that they would be spotted by anyone who really knew who they seemed pretty slim. It was exactly why James had chosen this particular quaint cafe for their date.

They were celebrating their first anniversary. For any eighteen-year old couple, it was a pretty significant milestone. But to Lily, it seemed oddly trivial. Given all that they had been through in the past year, and where they both knew their relationship stood, it felt like they had been together for far longer. Or at least that they had reached a level of seriousness that made first anniversaries seem silly and frivolous. And yet James insisted on marking the occasion. He promised no gifts, nothing over the top or crazy, just a simple night out, just the two of them.

It was nice, in a way, to feel like an ordinary couple for a night. No war hanging over their heads, no royal duties interfering, just two young adults having dinner together. The night was going wonderfully - they had a delicious dinner, talking entirely about trivial things, before walking back to Lily’s apartment. It was about a mile, but it was a nice walk, through Clissold Park and Abney Park to Stamford Hill. The sun was going down, which made the walk even prettier than usual, but mostly they were just enjoying being able to stroll hand in hand on a warm autumn evening. The weather was only just starting to change, but the leaves had already begun to fall in a swirl of colour.

As they got closer to her apartment, Lily began to feel the hairs on the back of her neck prickling unpleasantly, and she had the distinct impression that they were being watched. James, however, had no such feeling, and pulled her into the little park on the end of her street. They sat down on one of the benches and Lily immediately snuggled up to James, leaning her head on his shoulder.

“This was really nice,” she whispered, shaking off her misgivings for a moment to soak in how genuinely lovely their date had been. Between the Order and James’ royal life, it was rare now that they got to feel like a normal couple.

“I’m glad you liked it,” James answered, kissing the top of her head and then nuzzling his nose in her hair a bit, breathing in her scent deeply. One hand toyed with the locks of hair splayed out around her shoulder, while the other drifted across her thigh.

Lily revelled in the feeling for a moment before tipping her head to the side. He met her lips with his, breathing deeply as he leaned in to her. It was a lazy kiss, far from the heat and urgency that usually accompanied their rendezvous. Between James’ duties, Lily’s work schedule, and the Order missions, it felt like every time they got together lately was a rush. It wasn’t bad, but they had both missed the intimacy of getting to take their time. Their hands roamed, exploring each other and mapping every inch of skin, dipping beneath fabric and teasing. Before long they were both breathing hard, flushed and wanting more. They needed to get back to Lily’s apartment, very quickly. Lily stood, but James grabbed her hand and pulled her back down onto his lap, his hand grabbing tightly onto her backside. 

“I can’t get up right now,” he whispered, kissing along her neck.

Lily gave him a confused look for a moment before she understood - and felt - what he meant. She laughed lightly, throwing her head back. James promptly dove in to the newly exposed skin at the base of her neck, making Lily gasp and tighten her fingers in his hair.

“James,” she breathed, swatting at him and trying to laugh despite the heady want that was beginning to weigh her down again. “James, stop, this is not going to help anything.”

With great difficulty, Lily managed to extract herself from his lap and stepped away, just out of James’ reach. 

“Come on,” she teased, arching an eyebrow and crooking one finger at him with a wicked smile on her face.

With a vaguely predatory grin, James launched himself off the little bench and wrapped his arms around Lily, attacking her with kisses as she laughed and walking her backward through the park.

Lily wanted to get back to her apartment as fast as possible, and not just so that she and James could be less restrained in their anniversary celebrations. She was getting that niggling feeling in the back of her mind again that they were being watched. She couldn’t shake it, and it made her deeply uncomfortable. No matter how much she looked around, she couldn’t see anybody, but she knew something was amiss. There was someone there.

Lily fumbled with the keys to her apartment building while James continued to pepper her with kisses, and they stumbled through the door together once she had it open. Lily slammed it shut behind immediately, and her body was flooded with a tingling relief. James pressed her against the corridor wall, trailing his lips across her skin and sending electric thrills across every inch of her body.

“Let’s go,” she panted, “upstairs now.”

o . o . o

Lily woke late in the morning and rushed to make it to work on time. She sped out of her apartment without glancing at the newspaper that was sitting on the dining table or stopping for coffee like she usually did. When she got to the hospital, it seemed like people were looking at her funny. It was like they were judging her, or like they’d found out a secret about her.

“Mary!” she hissed when she saw her friend in the hallway, and she grabbed at her arm. “What’s going on? Why is everyone staring at me?”

“No one’s staring at you,” Mary insisted, but she wouldn’t make eye contact, and Lily could see her cheeks turning pink. Alice was watching from behind her, fingers skimming over a patient’s chart.

“Please don’t lie to me,” Lily pleaded, squeezing her friend’s hand.

With a huff, Alice snatched something off a nearby nurse’s desk and thrust it into Lily’s hands. Lily turned the magazine over in her hands, her heart pounding, and she felt her stomach sink as she took in the cover. Several pictures of her - and James - were spread across it, along with the title “Working Girl”, like she was prostitute and not a nurse. She felt anger boiling in her gut, and a ferocious pink tinge rising across her skin.

“What the fuck is this?” she spat.

“It gets worse,” Mary winced, worry creeping across her features.

Lily flipped open the magazine to find an array of pictures from the night before, all somewhat compromising. Her sitting on James’ lap with his hands on her ass and her thigh, pressing kisses into her neck. The two of them kissing in the park with wandering hands and a little too much urgency and a little too little space between them. And a picture of James pressing against her from behind as she fumbled with the keys to her apartment, his hands nowhere even remotely decent. The pictures horrified her, knowing how they looked and knowing that - given what they had done immediately after getting back to her apartment - they image they presented wasn’t entirely inaccurate… she didn’t know what was worse. But the idea of the entire wizarding world knowing far more about her sex life than she would like was positively mortifying.

She shut the magazine, hoping that it would erase some of the horror from her mind, but her eyes fixed on a new detail. Lily Evans starts a new job at St Mungo’s - her coworkers tell all! The words leapt out at her, a fresh horror.

“Who talked to Rita Skeeter?” she hissed, practically shaking with anger.

“I don’t know,” Mary said, tentatively reaching out, but Lily shifted away. “She only lists anonymous sources, but it’s all vile, so to be honest she probably made it all up.”

“It’s bad?” Lily asked, feeling betrayed and hurt as well as angry. She really shouldn’t have expected anything else - if people raved about what a good coworker she was, it wouldn’t be much of a story - but she still felt blindsided. She thought everyone liked her. At the very least, she thought there wasn’t anyone who disliked her. “What does it say?”

“It - it says…” Mary couldn’t seem to bring herself to repeat the things that were written.

“It says that you’re late all the time, that you bail out on shifts to sneak out with James, that you put your relationship ahead of patients,” Alice said, sounding exasperated. “It’s all lies, Lily, but if we stand here and keep talking about this stupid article instead of getting to work, then it won’t be lies anymore, so get your ass moving.”

Lily nodded and took a deep breath, trying to collect herself and ignore the stares of everyone around her. It was good practice for the rest of her life, she realized. This is what life with James would be like. An eternity of ignoring the way everyone else looked at her, of people hating her on the basis of made up rumours. So it was time to get used to it. Better now than later. She pulled her hair back and twisted into a knot, throwing the magazine in a rubbish bin in the process. 

Lily desperately wanted the rest of her day to be normal. She needed it, really. But every time she managed to get the article’s words out of her head, she would catch a patient staring at her, or one of the other nurses. She honestly didn’t know which was worse. But when sweet old Mrs. Magelin asked her about her relationship and said she thought Lily would make a wonderful princess, as long as she could stay out of the newspapers, it took everything she had not to cry then and there.

By the time she left the hospital that night, the street outside of the hospital had turned into a photography studio. It was impossible to get in or out without triggering the sounds of snapping shutters and flashing lights. Lily ducked her head and powered through the crowd, ignoring the paparazzi jogging down the street to keep getting photos. She usually walked home from the hospital, but she only made it two blocks before deciding that it wasn’t an option tonight, so she turned down an alley and quickly apparated to the foyer of her apartment building. It was strongly discouraged to apparate into or out of the inside of the building, but Lily felt sure that in this case, the landlord would make an exception. She sped up to her apartment and pulled the curtains closed immediately, glimpsing the crew of photographers waiting outside for her.

“Lily?” Fabian asked, poking his head out of the room he practically shared with Mary. “Are you okay?”

Lily couldn’t answer, just collapsing on the couch in a heap of sobs. Fabian sat next to her on the couch, pulling her into a close hug. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the silver cloudiness of Fabian’s Abraxan patronus. Barely twenty minutes later, James was at their door, immediately sliding into Fabian’s place beside her and whispering soothing words as he stroked her hair until she fell asleep.

It became a daily thing, and Lily absolutely hated it. They were waiting for her, even the slightest glimpse of her, and there was little she could do to stop it. The photographers followed her around wherever they could, plagued by some sick need to get pictures of every single thing she did. It was like the country had become infatuated with her, intent on watching her during all hours of the day. Only it wasn’t a good kind of infatuation - if such a thing existed. It was more like a desire to watch her try so hard and then fail. It was like the entire country was waiting with bated breath to see if James would decide she was not princess material and walk away. 

Without fail, pictures of her graced the covers of newspapers and magazines at least once a week. Even more frequently, she was sure they were mixed in the inner pages, but she couldn’t even stand to flip through anything anymore. Any time she and James did anything, it was front and center on every newsstand and in every supermarket. People wondered whether they would spend Christmas together, and then speculated on the status of their relationship when she was seen taking the train back to Cokeworth. When her birthday rolled around, James tried to take her out for a nice dinner to celebrate, but they were so mobbed that they ended up just going back to her apartment, and it was the worst birthday she’d had in probably her whole life. She felt like she was losing her grip on reality because she could barely read the headlines of the newspapers anymore, let alone any actual articles. 

She didn’t miss the whispering and the staring either. She knew that some of her colleagues didn’t like her, or at least they didn’t approve of a Muggleborn witch dating the future king, and she saw every time they exchanged significant looks with a patient. Looks that said that’s her, and isn’t she unworthy. Every day, she felt like she was suffocating in disapproval. She tried everything she could to relieve some pressure, even letting Marlene take her out for a night of getting absolutely trashed and dancing with anyone she met because according to Marlene, she needed to remember who she was for a night and forget about being this person who was in a relationship with a prince. She needed to be just a regular nineteen year old for a little while. 

But the next day, Lily picked up the morning’s edition of the Daily Prophet, only to find a photograph of herself plastered across the front, taking up nearly the entire page. As wizarding photos were wont to do, it moved, a disturbing cycle of a car door opening, and Lily twisting to get out, unintentionally flashing her knickers as she moved, all the while her face bore the expression of a deer in headlights. She nearly vomited on the floor of the hallway as she read the title.

LOVELY LILY DISPLAYS A LOVE OF LACE

She remembered the moment vaguely, as they arrived at the third club of the night. Lily had been fairly drunk already, and it showed in the picture. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were bright and unfocused. She remembered feeling shocked that the paparazzi had found them, and wondering how they knew where to look for her. But then Marlene had ushered her into the club, forced two shots into her hands, and then pulled her out onto the dance floor, and Lily had forgotten all about it.

There was a knock on the apartment door and Lily crossed the apartment to open it. It must have been the cab driver, she mused to herself as she walked. He must have tipped off the press as to where he was taking them, he’d put the window up, they never would have known. Lily opened the door to find James standing there, concern written across his face.

“I saw the papers this morning, are you okay?” he asked immediately, pushing his way into the apartment.

Lily rubbed her head and snatched up the hangover potion that Mary had left on the counter of the kitchenette. 

“Okay, I know you’re probably not okay, but like, on a scale of 1 to 10…?” he continued, looking at her wearily.

Suddenly, something inside Lily snapped. Maybe the hangover potion was working quickly, or maybe she was waking up more fully, or maybe what happened was really setting in. It didn’t matter, but Lily felt anger welling up within her.

“I can’t take this anymore, James!” Lily shouted, losing all grasp on her temper. “It’s too much! Being followed all the time, and photographed in my knickers… merlin, what is everyone’s preoccupation with seeing me in my pants?”

“Well I quite enjoy - ”

Lily flashed him a look that told him it was most definitely not the time for a joke, and if he finished that sentence he would be in a great deal of trouble.

“Lily, I’m sorry, I really am,” James said sincerely, reaching out to place his hands on her arms. “I don’t know what you want me to do to fix it though. I don’t have control over them.”

She sat down on the bed, dropping her face into her palms as she struggled to hold back the tears. In all the conversations they had had about their relationship, they had never really talked about this. Sure, they had talked about having less privacy, but mostly as it pertained to parenthood. And even when they had discussed the issue regarding just themselves, they never talked about it like this. This was different, this wasn’t just chipping away at her privacy, this was malicious invasion. The entirety of the journalistic world wanted her to fail, and they wanted to catch it on camera when she did. It was positively draining.

“James, I don’t know if I can do this,” Lily sighed, pressing the heels of her hands into her brows. 

“What does that mean?” he asked quietly, stepping back.

“I don’t know, James, I don’t know what it means, but this is exhausting,” she said, close to tears. “I just don’t think I can live my life like this.”

“Lily, this is what my life is like, this is how it works,” James said, a sense of betrayal flooding him. 

“No, James, it’s not,” she said, lifting her head to look at him. “Your life is the media loving you, and praising everything that you do, not them trying to get pictures of you flashing your knickers. They love you, okay? They love you, and they hate me, and that’s it. That’s all there is to it, and I don’t know if I can deal with that for the rest of my life.”

“They won’t hate you forever,” James insisted. “They just don’t know you, and they don’t know if you’re just some fling or my future wife, and while it doesn’t excuse the way they’re treating you, it’s just because they don’t know what to make of you right now. But eventually we’ll get married and things will be better, I promise. Once you start doing public engagements and the press gets a better sense of who you are, things will be better.”

“So you’re saying I just have to live with it until we’re married and they decide on a whim that they like me,” Lily hissed, annoyed by his lack of initiative. How could he be alright with this treatment? Didn’t he care about the toll it was taking on her?

“I don’t know what you want me to do, Lily,” James huffed, starting to get impatient.

“Anything!” she yelled. “Anything would be better than just telling me to deal with it for god knows how long!”

“The only thing I can do is marry you!” he burst. “Do you want me to marry you, ‘cause I will, Lily, I’ll marry you today if it’ll make things better, I swear.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lily said, casting his suggestion off without a second thought.

“I’m not,” James insisted. “We decided a while ago that this is what we were going to do, so really waiting is just a formality, so if it’ll make things better for you, then let’s just take the next step, okay?”

“No.” She leaned away from his, trying to read his expression and seeing the desperation that was written plainly across his features. “James, that’s not the right reason to get married. We can’t take the next step just because it might relieve some of the pressure, that’s not right.”

“Okay,” James agreed, but Lily thought she saw a flash of disappointment. “I don’t know what else I can do though.”

“I know,” Lily sighed. “We’ll figure something out.”

o . o . o

James stormed into his father’s office, the heavy double doors slowly slamming shut behind him. The King barely looked up from his desk as James strode purposefully across the ornate carpet, smacking his hands down on the desk’s mahogany surface.

“You have to do something,” James demanded.

“And what exactly is it that I must do?” the King replied, not entirely engaged in what his son was saying.

“About Lily and the press, you have to do something to stop them from hounding her,” James explained.

“There’s nothing I can do, son, I’m sorry,”  King Fleamont said, finally looking up at James.

“That’s not true!” James burst. “They leave us alone, for the most part. They don’t camp outside the Palace or follow us every minute of the day.”

“We’re not mysterious to them.”

“I know it’s not just that Papa,” James said, shaking his head. “I know its more than that, we have rules and barriers and there’s a line that they know not to cross, and I want that for her.”

King Fleamont sighed heavily. “We do have certain protections from the media, an agreement set in place, if you will. But we can’t extend it to Lily, she’s not a member of the Royal Family. We can’t just start making anyone we want to off limits.”

“But they aren’t like this with our other friends or anyone else,” James groaned. 

“She’s something novel for them, James,” his father replied. “They don’t know anything about her or your relationship or how serious the two of you are. The people are curious, but eventually that will abate.”

“They’re tormenting her, Papa, it’s a nightmare.” 

“I’ll think on it,” the King conceded. “I’ll see if there’s anything we can do to help her out, but James… I wouldn’t have high hopes if I were you that anything will change unless you decide to meet her at the altar.”

James swept out of his father’s office, making his way back to his own rooms. But once he was there, he realized he felt suffocated by the plush velvet and the ornate tapestries. It was all too much, too decadent and lavish, and he couldn’t take it. He had to get out, get away, be just a regular person for a change. He pulled on his Muggle clothing, grabbing a soft beanie and his glasses and darting out of the Palace. There were a few secret tunnels - all guarded - that would lead him into London, and then he could apparate wherever he wanted to go. 

For a moment, he was lost in all the possibilities, without any concept of where he wanted to be. He roamed through the park for a little while, and then ambled down some side streets, stopping into a Muggle pub for a beer - or three. But ultimately, he apparated to the little foyer of Lily’s apartment building (they had gotten permission from the landlord for the two of them to do that whenever needed weeks earlier). He needed to be in her arms. Most of all, he needed not to think for a little while.

Alice opened the door for him, and he gave her a cursory hello while making a beeline for Lily’s room, just barely knocking before he let himself in. She was curled up in her bed with a book, looking somber but at least not crying. He desperately needed her not to be upset tonight. He stood at the end of her bed, half wanting to jump in with her, but also feeling too antsy to lie down. Lily scooted to the edge of the bed as she looked at him carefully, and then stood and reached out to touch his cheek.

“James, what -?” she began to ask, obviously confused and a little bit worried, but he cut off her question with a kiss, desperate and sloppy.

Lily dropped her book to the floor, reaching her hands up around James’ neck and burying her hands in his hair. Apparently she needed not to think as much as he did. His fingers slipped under her top and lifted the silk fabric over her head, only pulling away from her long enough for the garment to clear her face. Lily immediately drew her hands down to his chest, fingers working swiftly at the buttons of his shirt. James’ hands found their way to her ass, grabbing hold and pulling her hips tightly against his so she could feel every inch of him. He nipped at her jawline and her neck, savouring the little gasps they elicited from Lily as he walked her backward until her spine met the wall, and she stripped them both down to their underwear in the process. Lily hitched one leg up against James’ hip and he ran his over the creamy skin of her thigh, and it was all the invitation he needed to discard what little remained of their clothing.

In the morning, James kissed Lily on the forehead and scribbled a note before letting himself out of the apartment. It was still dark outside, but he was scheduled to be at an important lunchtime meeting, and he would need time to get back to the Palace and prepare. 

Breakfast was laid out on the dining table in his apartment as soon as he walked in, and an owl had clearly already delivered the morning paper. James sat down and assembled a full breakfast of toast and beans and bacon and even a few bangers on the side. The perfect fuel for a long and likely dull day. Only when he was set with coffee and tucking into his breakfast did he pull the newspaper over.

James stared at the newspaper in horror. This was his worst nightmare. It was everything he had been brought up to avoid. Scandals were the death of the monarchy; if he lost the respect of his people, he lost everything. They would see this and think he was some kind of depraved lunatic, or a cuckold, or… he didn’t want to keep thinking about that. And Lily - she must be mortified. To have her personal life, not to mention her body, laid out so publicly and immortally must be horrifying for her. And she had already been upset with the level of invasion she had been suffering. He wondered if this would be the thing that triggered her to walk away from all of it, from him. He had to have a plan ready before he talked to her, something he knew he could pull off to help her. James snatched up a quill and parchment and began to scribble out a statement.

Prince James and Miss Lily Evans kindly request that their privacy be respected as individuals. While the Prince understands that, as a member of the Royal Family, he is a public figure and attracts a great deal of curiosity and attention. Miss Evans, however, is a private citizen, and deserves the same level of respect, courtesy, and dignity as every other citizen. We ask that everyone abide by the follow guidelines:

Please do not loiter outside Miss Evans’ apartment or workplace in the hopes of seeing and/or photographing her.

Please note that any sources publishing dematatory stories about Miss Evans will face legal action.

Please be conscious of the toll that commentary on Miss Evans’ body, fashion choices, and in any way about her physical person, take on her mental wellbeing.

Prince James and Miss Evans will strive to include the public in their relationship to the extent that they feel it proper, following both prior protocols and precedents as well as their own wishes and beliefs. The Royal Family feels confident that this will be satisfactory for the public, and asks all our citizens to offer this young couple support and privacy.

Thank you.

Queen Euphemia & King Fleamont

Without hesitation, James marched through his apartment and over to his father’s office, not bothering to knock before pushing the door open. He slapped both the newspaper and the parchment down on the desk. The King raised an eyebrow at his son, wordlessly inviting an explanation.

“This is what I want you to say,” James stated boldly, his hand still resting on the parchment as he leaned over the desk. “This is the statement I want you to release.”

“You’re sure?” King Fleamont asked, after reading it over quickly.

James nodded. He had never been more sure of anything.

“It may not help,” the King replied. “It might make things worse.”

“It might,” James admitted, understanding that there was a very real possibility that his efforts would backfire. “But I can’t do nothing anymore, so it’s better than that.”

“Okay.” 

The King flicked his wand at the statement, and it rolled into a coil, zipping its own way down the hall to the media office. From there, James knew, it would be presented in due course, with all royal announcements.

“James,” the King said, fixing his son with a stern expression over the top of his reading glasses, “scandals like this cannot happen, you know that. Your mother will want to talk to you over dinner. For now, I would advise you to go talk to Miss Evans and make sure she’s alright with this. You’ll have a few hours before the announcement is made public.”

James nodded and let himself out. This would work, it had to work.

[whatwakes]

karen’s time in the shoggoth pit.

1) it was absolutely her own fcking fault that she ended up down there. like, i have NO doubt that she found some reference to “the six thousand steps,” identified a location somewhere in maine, ignored every single warning from every single source, and went right the fuck there and ended up stuck. she is ABSOLUTELY that stupid. she is ABSOLUTELY that “white person who dies at the beginning of a horror movie” brand of ridiculous, except that she’s incapable of dying so she couldn’t even get out that way.

2) contact with shoggoths is incredibly traumatic for the human psyche, as confirmed in both “the thing on the doorstep” and “at the mountains of madness.” the description of a shoggoth from the latter novella:

It was a terrible, indescribable thing vaster than any subway train—a shapeless congeries of protoplasmic bubbles, faintly self-luminous, and with myriads of temporary eyes forming and unforming as pustules of greenish light all over the tunnel-filling front that bore down upon us, crushing the frantic penguins and slithering over the glistening floor that it and its kind had swept so evilly free of all litter. Still came that eldritch, mocking cry—“Tekeli-li! Tekeli-li!”

this glimpse of the shoggoth is evidently enough to unhinge danforth mentally in ATMOM, and a sighting of one is deeply upsetting for derby in TTOTD, sending him into what the narrator describes as a “frenzy” and a “fury of hysteria.”

karen definitely saw shoggoths. she may even have had extended contact/communication with shoggoths. it was Traumatic and without a doubt it has severely deepened her PTSD and led to some of the personality changes which have been extant in my most recent interactions, which i’ll talk about in the next section.

3) aforementioned personality changes.

a big part of what has made every single one of her experiences agonizing for karen is that there’s no retreat, for her. she is completely conscious for every single horrifying moment she has lived through; although she sometimes considers herself to be “going crazy,” “losing her mind,” etc. there is no refuge for her outside of sanity (for a discussion of my use of these terms check this post). if she meets a shoggoth, she can’t black out. she can’t forget. she can’t run away.

obviously she’s been traumatized by this. i hesitate to suggest that this trauma is worse or more than the trauma of the fire; i think that what really happened is that this trauma has compounded the earlier one... like if she’d sprained her ankle but never stopped walking on it, and just made the injury worse and worse and worse and worse and worse.

karen is way more prone to anger now. i jokingly suggested here that she finally grew a spine in the shoggoth pit; the thing is that she didn’t necessarily grow anything... she actually kind of lost a certain amount of patience and self-control. examples:

in basically every single interaction she’s had with requiem’s billie dean, billie has crapped on karen in some way or another; she has never been particularly nice to her--but this thread is the first time karen has responded with anything remotely approaching anger. it’s not that it never hurt or frustrated or angered her before. it’s that she just doesn’t have the patience to deal anymore. she doesn’t care about being perfectly nice to billie dean now.

in this thread, she is--honestly maybe even for the first time--snappish with alana, and is explicitly resistant to talking about her problems. prior to this she has never been harsh with alana... in fact, it’s much more alana who’s been harsh with karen (remember that time karen was like “i want to sleep with you” and alana was like “i guess it’s an intangible parting gift thing, but just about any item from a gift shop would be better”?). for genuinely the first time in their relationship she’s sharp with alana. (and then, being karen, immediately apologizes.)

honestly, the fact that these are the examples i’m giving you of karen’s anger should tell you how utterly non-confrontational and mild she was before this. her entire self-conception was founded on being Infinitely Patient in an empathetic way (that really had to do with her self-pitying martyr complex and her desire for control of relationships via self-sacrifice) and for her to act against that self-image in a conscious way is a signal of how she’s changed.

karen is also much, much, MUCH more grim about humanity right now. the history of the shoggoths is one that implies the absolutely infinitesimal nature of humankind, i would venture to say beyond even what the ‘mythology’ of cthulhu suggests. even if she doesn’t have the full picture gathered by the narrator of ATMOM, the presence of shoggoths on earth and their unbearable lack of relation to any living thing she’s familiar with would be enough to imply to karen how utterly trivial human life is, in comparison with these beings she could never hope to comprehend.

what’s more, unlike cthulhu, whom she’s seen solely in dreams and in the form of carven images, she’s actually seen shoggoths, and was in contact with them for an extended period of time. at least when she had to hang out with ariel’s hound it was for occasional visits, which punctuated an otherwise normal-like experience of the world. consider the already explicitly insanity-inducing qualities of the shoggoths... then consider karen dealing with all that At Length. no wonder she got out of the shoggoth pit and hopped right into the depression pit instead. human things seem to matter so much less.

4) one last note:

ATMOM is one of lovecraft’s most deeply racist stories. how can that be, rabbit, when he’s writing not about human races, but about alien ones? i promise that if you read it you’ll understand, and if anyone wants an explanation, feel free to ask, but... suffice it to say that my shoggoths are probably somewhat different from his, because Who Needs That Vintage Racism? Not Rabbit. i might elaborate on this a bit more later.

[bangtan-yeonghon]

Oath | Ch.24 | Jungkook

Genre: Angst | Mafia!AU

Members: Jungkook | You/Reader | Yoongi | Taehyung | Namjoon | Hoseok | Jin | Jimin |

Summary: What if one day everything you ever wanted is taken away and your whole world comes crushing down? If you were to forget today, who would you be tomorrow?

| Previous Chapter | Chapter List | Next Chapter |

Word count: 6,550

WARNING! There are several mentions of torture, so if you are sensitive to this I would suggest skipping those parts.

A/N: This chapter took me so long to write partly because of those specific scenes. They are pretty graphic and I need a certain mood to be able to write them. Not to say I've been going from writer's block to writer's block. But it's finally here! Thank you for the patience! And I am sorry for the long wait. I might not be able to update often for the next three months because college is really stressful and I barely have the motivation or time to write at times. I am sorry about that as well. But I will always try my best to keep up with everything. Now, without further ado, here is chapter 24. Enjoy! ^^

"Hyung, are you really going to let Y/N with him?! We have to get her back!" Taehyung said right after they went out of the room, heading towards the parking lot.

"We can't risk anything right now," Hoseok replied.

"It's Y/N! That piece of shit has his hands on her. Who knows what he will do. And you back away now?! She's part of the family!"

"Who are you rising your voice to? Kim Taehyung, get your shit together! If we give Namjoon what he wants, he'll step all over us."

"Y/N could die!"

"Then it's one good sacrifice for the sake of the group!"

"Hyung!!"

"Would you both stop screaming? My head is exploding as it is," Yoongi spoke in a slightly annoyed, slightly bored voice.

"We need to get her out of there."

Taehyung was desperate. His bloodshot eyes were trembling with anger. A sense of guilt was making him feel like the cause of you getting kidnapped. Trapping you in that small room was not a good idea in the end.

"I heard you the first time. If you're going to keep talking, then you can go ahead and walk all the way back."

Yoongi seemed to be deep in thought, and being continuously disturbed by Taehyung was not helping. And so no more words were exchanged between the three. Once inside the car, Yoongi pulled out his phone and called Jimin.

"Yes, hyung?"

"Where are you right now?" Yoongi's voice was calm but severe.

"What do you mean? I'm in the basement with Jungkook just like you ordered me. We're having quite an interesting chat," he seemed proud of himself. A scream soon followed just as he pressed the flaming end of the cigarette he was smoking against Jungkook's blood tinted skin. "Why? What's up?"

"So they didn't find him...at least that."

"What? Who didn't find who? Did something happen?"

"Namjoon set us up. He took Y/N."

"What?!"

"Go and check the house, but be careful, his dogs might still be there. I can't afford losing men like this."

"Yes boss! But when did this happen? I didn't hear anything..."

"He used our meeting as a distraction and sent his men to raid the house."

"Damn it! I had a feeling something was off. I'll go check how things are. What about Y/N? Are you going to take her back?"

Jungkook lifted his tired eyes from the floor to the man moving restlessly around the room. He was carefully listening to the conversation.

"I have to think first. We'll get there in 30, see if there are any rats left," Yoongi said before hanging up.

Jimin put the phone back in his pocket and rushed to the door, but the words coming from Jungkook's mouth made him turn around.

"Y/N...what happened?..." By the sound of his voice and the long breaks in speaking it was obvious he was tired out.

"What happened?!? I'll tell you what fucking happened!" He wrapped his fingers around Jungkook's neck. "Kim Namjoon, that piece of shit that you call your boss, took your precious girl. Still loyal to that shit? Huh, Jungkookie? Now that he has her in his filthy hands, does it feel nice? She'll be lucky if she gets out of there alive."

"No...Y/N...why?..."

"How the fuck am I supposed to know?! This is the true face of your dear boss, Jungkookie, I hope you like how being stabbed in the back feels like. Your whole fucking group is messed up. I promise you this, Jungkook-ah, you will live to see everything burn to ashes with your own eyes. And when it will, I'll gladly push you into the flames."

Jimin released him, took out his gun, checked how many bullets he had, and went out without wasting any more time. The darkness that was covering the forest was making things harder and frightening, because at any given moment a bullet could fly through the air from any direction, putting an end to his life. As a sniper, Jimin knew this the best, that is why he was expecting someone to blow his brains out with every step he took, but to him it was not something that would induce fear, but rather a great source of adrenaline. It felt like going "hunting" again, something he and Taehyung loved doing. It basically meant going on a killing spree like shadows, taking a group of enemies by surprise. But since the group became the second largest and most influential in the city, and most deals were going smoothly, "hunts" were no longer that necessary. Being in the mafia for most of his life made Jimin see death as something trivial, something that will come for everyone at some point. It could be right in the next minute, or 50 years after, and he preferred the latter.

The tension was growing as he got further away from the basement, and closer to the house. Twenty minutes later a light in the distance, shining through branches and leaves signaled that he was almost out of the forest. His mouth dropped open at the sight. What was once a luxurious house now looked like a ruin. Shards of glass were covering the ground, making the grass glitter under the moonlight, bodies laying everywhere were making it difficult to walk inside, and blood was running in streams across the floor here and there. Some were still breathing, but still unconscious. The air had a strange smell. It looked like the aftermath of a war. And everything was silent, with only the wind howling at times. Everything was turned upside down, making Jimin's anger grow by the second.

Just as he was making his way down to the ground floor a car pulled up in front of the house. The three men that got out had different facial expressions as they looked at it. Hoseok and Taehyung had the same reaction as Jimin, while Yoongi did not seem as shocked, but rather determined to pay Namjoon back. Taehyung was the first to make a step. He was almost running to your room when Jimin stopped him.

"She's not there, Taehyung-ah."

"Let go!" he was frowning.

"You're wasting your time. I already checked everything! There's nothing there!" he screamed as the other rushed up the stairs.

"Is anything missing?" Hoseok asked.

"As far as I saw, no. They were not after money, nor guns. They're all there."

"Have you checked my office too?" Yoongi followed.

"Yes, everything is intact."

"It's a good thing we made that room in the middle of the forest, they had no idea nor the time to search," Hoseok said proudly.

"Yeah...How's Jungkook?"

"Still alive."

"Good, we need him that way."

"What are we going to do now?"

"First we'll wait and see what he has in mind."

"What if she dies?" Jimin asked.

"We already have Jungkook, we can find out about Namjoon and-"

"No, he is right, we can't lose her. Jungkook won't talk unless he knows she is safe, Taehyung will do all kinds of stupid shit to get her back because of his foolish love for her, and she is a member of the family. We never leave someone behind like that."

"Hyung, that's too risky..." Hoseok said.

"I know, but that's how we do stuff."

"Do you have a plan?"

"First, I need some answers," Yoongi said as he looked towards the forest.

"Fucking Kim Namjoon!!" Taehyung's voice resonated throughout the whole lot. Seems like he was headed towards the same place. Yoongi smirked and pointed into that direction with his eyes.

"Let's go."

Faded noises were slowly pulling you out of the darkness, slowly coming back to your senses. You tried opening your eyes, but it was useless, black was all you were seeing, so you focused on moving your arms. But the thick leather restraints that were tightly wrapped around your wrists and ankles were preventing you from moving. Plus, your whole body was still numb, mind hazy. You were so confused and scared. You were trying to convince yourself it was all a dream, but you knew it was not. You would have started screaming, but your mouth was also covered. It felt as if you were in a coffin, and it was making you go crazy. You could hear your heartbeat in the back of your head and your heavy breathing. Your muffled cries seemed to have caught the attention of the ones who were talking a while back, because now you heard footsteps coming towards you. And for a moment you stood there counting down the seconds till they reached you: 5...4...3...2...1...

"Seems like our princess just woke up," a familiar voice struck you.

"No way..." you thought.

"Oh, excuse my manners, I should have removed these, but it's more fun like this, isn't it."

A pair of hands played with the material that was covering your eyes and mouth and soon your eyes met your kidnaper's.

"Hello, Y/N. Long time no see."

"Kim Namjoon..." your low growl sketched the disgust and hate you had for him.

"Easy, love, you'll need to save that energy."

"Where am I?!"

You were lying on something that resembled a hospital bed, with straps all over your body to keep you in place. All you could see were some dusty lights and the grey ceiling of what you thought was an abandoned building in the middle of nowhere. The room had metal doors and a big window on your left side, but you could not see what was outside. It all gave you an eerie feeling. The smell was rather chemical and the air full of dust. Not to say it was quite cold for what you were wearing.

"It's useless, I'm not here to answer questions, I am here to ask them. So why don't you just sit back, and let us have a nice little talk."

"Screw you! I am not playing your dirty games."

"No worries, darling," he dragged one finger across your cheek and continued "you'll have no other choice."

"Is she up already?" another voice took you by surprise.

Another man entered your line of sight. He was as tall as Namjoon, had brown hair, and quite delicate features, making you wonder what kind of role he had within the group. The white gown kind of gave away the fact that he was a doctor, and possibly in charge of drugs and smoke weapons too. He examined your face.

"I need to make them stronger. We barely even had time to tie her up."

"You can test your stuff on her later if you want," Namjoon said nonchalantly.

Your eyes widened and you started fighting against the restraints again. Your wrists were already red.

"No need to try so hard, darling, I made sure you're not going anywhere. We can't lose a treasure like you. After I saved you that time...my hard work almost went to trash, we meet again..." Jin said.

"What do you mean again?"

"Huh?" he looked at you in awe then at Namjoon.

"Oh, didn't I tell you? She lost her memories, apparently."

"What a shame....that was quite the night back then...." he played with a strand of your hair.

"What do you want from me?"

"Whatever you can offer. Why? Already ready to spill it? That's not quite fun tho..."

"Screw you! You mess with the lives of people like they're nothing to you-"

"They aren't."

"But you don't see just how broken and alone you are."

Namjoon's whole face expression changed.

"You think your men will be by your side because you instill fear in them, but that will only make your group weaker. And you will see this. One by one, everyone will leave your side."

"You should shut up, love, you're playing with fire," he grabbed your face with one hand.

You looked at each other like you were continuing the conversation in your minds, him being the first to break it when he moved to Jin.

"Bring everything here. We're gonna start the game faster since the lady begs for it."

Jin proceeded without saying anything. He kept thinking about what you said. There were times when even himself wanted to leave the group. Being in the mafia was never his choice, but due to his father's connection to Black Tiger, he ended up working with Namjoon. He was the son of a three generation family of doctors, and he loved it ever since he was a child. The good thing the mafia did, in his case, was providing him with more bodies to experiment on. One of the greatest research of the hospital he worked in started from what he was doing in between thick walls, somewhere nobody could even dare come close. He always respected Namjoon, but at times he was tired of his rage fits and the way he managed his group. He was surprised to see how quickly you saw through the cracks and found his greater weakness in such a short time. He knew about what you did at the hotel, and that made him curious about you, but orders were orders.

Jungkook's slow but deep breaths were making small particles of dust dance in the air. He was almost asleep, but his mind was only focused on you, the only thing keeping him back from falling. His swollen face was covered in streams of dried blood, bruises, and cuts. Drips of sweat were, at times, leaving a clean trace behind as they rolled down. He was concentrating all his energy into forcing his mind not to leave you. His eyes were closed, his muscles completely relaxed, he wanted to let go so much, to rest a little, but he knew you were in danger, and he was trapped there. His struggles to stay awake were about to come to an end when the metallic sound of the door smashing against the wall made his head snap up.

"You son of a bitch!" Taehyung's deep, husky voice echoed throughout the room.

Jungkook knew this was coming. He knew exactly why he reacted like that, it was because of you, and he would have done the same. Only thing is that Taehyung did not know that he had no involvement in all of this, nor any idea what Namjoon had in mind. He was just as worried about you as Taehyung, maybe even more, but the one in front of him was too angry to think straight. He just pulled Jungkook by the collar of his shirt and started screaming like a mad man.

"Where is she?! You had the nerve to work behind our backs again?! Where did you hid her?"

"Taehyung-ah, calm down," Yoongi said as he and the other two entered the room.

But it was as if his words did not reach Taehyung's ears. His rage reached new heights due to Jungkook's silence so he drew his gun out and pointed it at him.

"Tell me!!!" he growled.

"Kim Taehyung!" Yoongi's severe shout was enough to make anyone freeze in their seat, and still it did not seem enough.

Jungkook kept staring at the man in front, giving him the silent treatment. It was clear that Taehyung wanted you back and Yoongi would do his best to get you out of Namjoon's hands. And Namjoon probably wanted to exchange you for him. That way things would go back to the way they used to be: fighting for supremacy. But he had something else in mind. He needed to convince Yoongi to free him to go and find you, and then get you into a safe place, away from everything. Plan A included running away together -he already did it once, he could do it twice- but that would only put you in even more danger. He was confident he could keep you safe, but fighting on two sides at once would be too difficult to handle. Your memory loss and attachment to Taehyung were not a big help either. Another plan involved taking you to some place, known only by him, where you would be safe, but that also came with issues. Yoongi had good connections with the police -reason why he was hardly ever accused of anything- and his men were good at finding people. So was Namjoon and Black Tiger. He needed to find something, but what was for sure was that he needed to get out of there. And the clock was ticking.

Taehyung was pressing the gun against Jungkook's forehead, not willing to let him have it his way. It was not until Jimin ran to him and yanked his hand that he snapped out of his trance.

"Are you crazy?!"

His grip loosened. He looked back at Yoongi who was frowning. He stepped to the side, letting him take his place in front of his prisoner. Yoongi threw him a look before turning to Jungkook.

"You're still holding up, I see," Yoongi said.

"You know me..." Jungkook chuckled.

"That's why I always liked you, kid, you have it in your blood."

"What do you want from me?"

"You already know."

"Then you also know I won't tell you."

Out of all the members of the group, Jungkook has always been the only one having enough guts to go against Yoongi. Whenever he felt something was not right, he would say it, even if it was coming from the boss. Maybe this is why Yoongi added him to the group so easily. He admired him for this; it was a valued survival skill, but a ticking bomb at the same time. Wrong place, wrong time, and you would meet your tragic death.

"Is that so?"

"Yes."

"Even if Y/N dies?"

The calm tone in his voice pushed Jungkook to the edge, but the boy was not going to fall so easily.

"You won't let that happen," he smirked.

"What makes you so sure?" Yoongi mimicked his expression.

"I know how things work in here, remember? You probably thought of several ways to get her out already. Am I wrong?"

"Fine then, have it your way."

Yoongi turned around and walked towards the door followed by Hoseok. Taehyung, on the other hand, was not pleased with the answers. His rage peaked once again.

"Hyung! He knows where she is! He knows!" After saying this to Yoongi he turned to Jungkook. "Listen, punk, if you don't open your mouth I will drag you so deep into hell, you wish you died back then at the docks. Where is she?!?"

Jimin had to drag him out as signaled by Yoongi who had disappointment, anger, and worry painted on his face. Once outside Taehyung ran in front of him, and with red eyes begged to get you back, to torture and answer out of Jungkook.

"That won't work, you need to calm down. Y/N will be fine."

"No, she won't! She doesn't deserve this! It's all my fault..."

"Listen to me, Taehyung-ah, she signed up for this, she did it with her own hand. It was she who offered her life in exchange for a place in our family. That's the deal we made. It's up to her now if she gives up the fight or not."

Taehyung's eyebrows were knitted together as he listened. He could not agree with this plan, especially when your life was on the line. He shook his head, fist clenched, and dashed into the forest towards the house. His mind was a mess, he did not know what he wanted to do, or what he should do, but he needed to get out of there, or else he would do something he would regret.

"Go with him. Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid," Yoongi told Jimin.

"Got it," he said as his feet already started moving. "Yo, Kim Taehyung! Taehyung-ah!" he was trying to catch up.

"What?!"

"Where are you going?"

"I don't know. Somewhere."

"You need to calm down."

"Fuck off!"

"No, listen, you are not thinking straight right now."

"Oh, and you are?!" he suddenly turned around, Jimin almost smashing into him.

"I told you not to fall for her Tae...Look where it's got you."

"This has nothing to do with my feelings!"

"It does! You are fucking blind! You haven't been thinking straight ever since Jungkook came into the picture. You are afraid of losing her, I get it, but you knew it was going to happen. I told you it was going to happen! And you didn't listen...You need to let her go before it's too late."

"Listen to me, Y/N is mine, ok? I will get her back."

"We need to think this trough! You can't just barge in there like 'hey, shoot me, I came to get my girl back'. That's exactly what he wants."

"She'll die, Jimin-ah, " his eyes were getting teary.

"She won't. Have a bit of faith in her. We'll get her back," he patted Taehyung on the back. "Let's go have a drink. You look like you need one."

"I'll fucking kill them all one day."

"Save some for me too," Jimin chuckled.

The doors swung open, making way for the carrier full of weird things to slowly reach your side. With the corner of your eyes you could see several small bottles, syringes, some sort of knives, and some other creepy things that could only be used for torture. You followed the arms that pushed it there and locked eyes with Jin. He seemed disturbed by the whole thing, but not enough to convince Namjoon to quit it. He could see the fear on your face, and remembered that night in the abandoned building, when you were drugged by Taehyung. And now you were on their side. He wondered how you would react if you knew the whole truth. You were being fed lies by everyone around you, in the end.

"There we go. Look how many things I got just for you," Namjoon said, admiring the arsenal. "Now, where should I start fom?"

"You are sick..."

"I tend to believe the opposite. Take a look in the mirror, baby doll, you think you're better than me?"

There was a moment of silence in which you just glaring at each other. But then you realized he was right. Torture? You did it too. Killing? Been there, done that. If anything, you were even worse, playing with the feelings of two men. Namjoon took out a cigar and seemed to be thinking about something as he smoked.

"Now, shall we begin? First question: where is Jungkook?"

"I don't know," you firmly answered.

Namjoon scoffed, half pleased by the answer. He liked tough opponents, especially an attractive girl like you. He let another mouthful of smoke fill his lungs and pressed the burning tip of the cigar on your arm, letting the fire kiss your skin. He was so calm while doing it, like it was nothing. Your high pitched screams made Jin shut his eyes, seemingly disturbed by the scene. He nudged Namjoon.

"I'll be out if you need me."

"Ok."

He did not seem to be bothered by it, but rather almost ignored Jin completely. The only thing on his mind right now was getting answers from you. Tears were falling down one after the other, but you were determined not to give in and let Namjoon have it his way not mattered what happened. You were sure sooner or later Taehyung would kick those doors open, that he would come for you. Every minute you would look out the small windows, hoping your eyes will lock with his, and every time it did not happen, you would convince yourself it will in the next one.

"Maybe you didn't hear me well the 1st time, I asked: where is Jungkook?"

"I. Don't. Know!"

Same punishment, same deep pain running through your body, same desperate screams. Giving him the answer would be so much easier, but you knew that the moment it leaves your lips, you are a dead woman. The only things keeping you alive are the things he so eagerly wants to know.

"You have quite the guts, talking to me on that tone. I see why Yoongi is so fond of you." He grabbed your chin and turned your face on both sides. "You have the looks too." He kept staring at you, clearly plotting something. "I wonder..." and without any further ado he leaned down and forcefully kissed you. In your struggle to free yourself you bit his lip. "Ouch!" he chuckled as he wiped off the blood. "Feisty too."

"Screw you!!!"

"Keep your strength, baby doll, you'll be here for a long time."

"Boss! We're here."

Namjoon looked towards the entrance. There were three men standing there, one of them a step ahead of the others. They all bowed and then looked at you.

"Oh, just in time," Namjoon said. "I brought some friends to keep you company while I'm out. Have fun!"

Your heart was pumping at full speed. You took a glimpse at them. The one in front was more muscular than the others, somewhere in his mid twenties, had short black hair and scars all over him. His eyes were fixed on you, his sly smile alone making you sick. Namjoon just went to whisper something into his ear and seemed to have handed him something before heading out with Jin, leaving you alone with the three creepy men.

"So, what do we have here? Heard you've been giving our boss some headaches with your friends." He dragged one finger across your cheek.

"Take your hands off of me!"

"Oh! That almost scared me." They were all laughing.

"Taehyung, please...hurry up," you said in your mind.

They took turns into asking you questions, mostly about where Jungkook was, what Yoongi's next move was, your group's weaknesses and so on, and for each and every one you had one answer: "I don't know". In the span of almost two days you went through everything that was on that carrier: they injected you with different drugs, slapped you, dragged blades along your skin, enough to make you bleed without killing you, they put fabric over your face and poured water, making you almost drown, they were heartless. Your throat was hurting from all the screams, and your eyes were red. You often passed out because of the pain, the only brief moments in which you could rest. Then one day, just as you closed your eyes, Namjoon opened the doors, visibly pleased by how persistent both you and Yoongi were.

"How's our girl doing?" he said as he entered.

"Oh, I'm sorry, boss, I didn't see you coming. She wouldn't talk no matter what we tried. And now she passed out."

"Like leader, like member. How can a girl be so stubborn?! Put her on the chair and get the camera ready. I don't have the time to play their loyalty game; we'll go all the way now. If he doesn't bring Jungkook, then he'll just watch her die."

Time seemed to be frozen for everyone. It was like the clock was moving, but their reality was the same, trapped in a day without you. Like it or not, they all grew used to having you around. Now it was silent. Yoongi told Hoseok to take care of Jungkook's wounds, give him food, and make sure he'll survive for at least a few more days. As expected, he did not agree at first, but in the end he could not go against his words.

"Don't move, it's not like I want to do this," Hoseok said as he was sewing the wound caused by the bullet.

"Then why are you?" Jungkook asked.

"I was told to."

"He really wants to get her back, doesn't he?" Jungkook smirked.

"Shut up, you bastard. You keep going on and on about how much you love Y/N and yet you refuse to let us help her."

"You never helped her...you are the cause of all of this."

"Oh yeah?? Then how about Namjoon who fucking planned your death? How about Namjoon who kidnapped Y/N?"

"I know you were the ones behind the crash."

"Bullshit! Listen, kid, if I wanted you dead, you would be dead. He fucked up and then tried to make it seem like he's the good guy in the story. Do you know he was so keen on killing Y/N he hired a man to strangle her to death because she was still breathing even after all of this? Did you know how close she actually was to dying? How much she cried in her sleep? Taehyung was by her side all this time, he healed her wounds, I trained her to be strong, to keep her head up, made her face her fears, Yoongi gave her shelter and protection. What did you do for her? Lie to her about your real identity? You better see who the bad guys are before it's too late."

"Then let me go get her."

"I have reasons not to trust you, we all do. Heck, you'll most likely get you both killed. You'll have plenty of time to think till the morning, you better be ready to share some info if you want to see Y/N again."

Morning came and went and still no answer. That until a small box appeared in front of the house just as the sun was about to set. Taehyung was the one to discover it. Inside was a phone and something that resembled a countdown timer. He quirked an eyebrow and unlocked the phone. A video started playing. Not even a minute later a scream shook the whole lot.

"Y/N! KIM NAMJOON YOU ARE DEAD!!!"

He had tears in his eyes when he walked towards Yoongi who came to see what happened. He handed him the phone and looked at the timer as the others watched the video. Namjoon's face pooped up on the screen.

"Hello, my dear friends! Seems like I didn't get any answer from you yet, and you see, I'm a busy man. So I was wondering if you'd be more willing to negotiate if I put a timer on your beloved girl's life. I put some effort and money into this, I hope you enjoy the show. Keep the phone, you'll get updates every hour. You see this little guy right here?" he pointed at the IV bag that was hanging next to the chair you were tied down to. "Every drop that gets into her system slowly kills her. By the time it is all gone, she'll stop breathing, but judging by her state...I'd give her less than that. So, who's it gonna be? Her or Jungkook? Think smart, Min Yoongi, time is ticking."

The video ended like that, showing only glimpses of you sitting lifelessly on that chair, hair covering half of your bruised face. Yoongi's grip around the phone grew tighter.

"Fucking Kim Namjoon."

"What are we going to do, hyung?" Jimin asked.

"I'll kill him..." Taehyung said in a low, almost demonic voice.

Yoongi looked at the timer: 3 hours and 25 minutes left.

"Taehyung-ah..."

"We have no other choice," Yoongi said.

"Y/N, please hold on a little bit longer...I'll come for you...I'll do whatever it takes!" Jungkook mumbled to himself.

He was feeling and looking better, but his small monologue was cut short by Yoongi who came in like a storm.

"Still not going to tell us where he keeps her?" he put the phone in front of his eyes, letting him watch the whole thing.

"No...Y/N!"

"Where is she?"

"I don't know..."

"This bitch!" Taehyung, who was right behind, shouted.

"So you'll just let her die?"

"No, it's not that. Namjoon has several places he uses for this kind of stuff, we have to split if we want to find her.

"We?!" Taehyung intervened again.

"I won't tell you the locations unless you free me."

"Fine," Yoongi said.

"What?! Hyung!"

"Hoseok, untie him."

"Yes, hyung."

Taehyung was acting like a volcano ready to explode as Hoseok was freeing Jungkook. As soon as he was done, Jungkook stood up and walked to Yoongi.

"Do you have a map?"

Yoongi nodded. They all headed back to his office to plan the great rescue. There were three spots on the map, all in places world seems to have forgotten about. While they were trying to figure things out the phone lit up; another video. This time it was just you, sitting there quietly as the fluid kept flowing through your veins. 3 hours left.

"We need to move quickly. It will take at least one hour to reach the closest place from here," Jungkook said.

"How many men are there?" Hoseok asked.

"Not many. The places are only known by a few within the group, making it harder to be found."

"Why should we trust you?" Jimin followed.

"It's up to you. But Y/N's life depends on this."

"And what do you get out of it?"

"Enough! Jungkook is right, we don't have time for childish fights. We need to move. Taehyung and Jimin, you two will go here," he pointed to the place closest to the house. "Take some boys with you and keep your eyes open. Me and Hoseok will go to the docks."

"That means he will go alone?!" Taehyung pointed to Jungkook. "Hell, no! Don't you see what he's trying to do here?"

"Taehyung-ah, the plan's already set," Yoongi calmly said.

"I don't trust him!"

"Then you'll have to. It was one of his conditions."

"How do we even know there is anything at all where he sends us?"

"You won't know until you go there," Jungkook said.

"Fuck you!"

"Kim Taehyung! You either go, or you don't."

There was silence. Everyone was looking at everyone.

"Fine! I'm going!" he said before he stormed out of the room.

"Now, shall we?" Yoongi looked at Jungkook who nodded.

Three cars left the house in a rush, tires squealing under the evening sky.

"Jeon Jungkook...." Taehyung growled.

"You need to calm down, Taehyung-ah."

"He has something on our boss, I'm sure. There's no way he would agree to this shitty plan. It's obvious he's lying."

"We'll see when we get there, chill."

The other two cars were silent. Jungkook was going at full speed to an abandoned building somewhere in the middle of a field. The phone lit up again as another hour passed, but they were all close to their designated locations. Jungkook pulled over on the side of the road, a few meters away from it, and checked the surroundings. There were two men guarding the main entrance, two cars in front, one of which was Namjoon's.

"Damn it!"

Just when he was about to look for another way in he saw Namjoon leaving. That was the perfect chance. There were three more that followed him to the car and then went back inside. He checked the gun Yoongi gave him. It was full. He waited until Namjoon's car got lost in the distance and swiftly sneaked behind the ones guarding the place. He broke the neck of the first one and shot the other in less than ten seconds. He was trained for this ever since he was a small child, it really was in his blood. He moved through the dark hallways like a shadow. Five more steps ahead was the room you were being kept in.

"Just a bit more, baby. I am here," he said in his mind.

Adrenaline took over his body, making all the pain fade away like magic. His heart was pumping hard, but his mind was clear. He saw them standing around you, backs turned towards the door. Next, he checked for guns. It seemed like only one of them was armed, the other had knives. But it was too dangerous to barge in there with all of them inside. He needed to lure at least one of them out. He hid on the other side of the door, detached the suppressor of his gun and fired into the direction of the exit.

"What was that?! Go and check!" one of them shouted.

And like expected two of them went out, but they never got to reach their destination. Hearing the commotion brought you back to your senses, but you were so weak you could barely keep your eyes open. Everything was a mix of lights and shadows, and the sounds were all muffled. You saw the figure of someone entering the room followed by a loud sound. You blinked trying to get a clearer view. It was like everything was moving in slow motion. You felt the ground shake as if something heavy fell right next to you and then heard a soft voice calling your name. But it seemed so far, and you were losing consciousness again.

"Y/N..."

"Tae..." was the last thing you managed to murmur before your head fell forward, mind going blank.

"Y/N!!! Y/N, baby!"

Jungkook kneeled in front of you and cupped your face, looking at how pale you where. He traced the line that went from the IV fluid bag to the back of your hand and gently pulled it out. Chaos took over his brain. Just how many more times would he have to pull you out of death's arms seconds before it is too late. He checked your pulse, it was weak, but you were still there, fighting.

"Just a bit more, baby, just a bit more. Y/N, please...I'm here! You're gonna be ok."

He untied the ropes and caught your body just as it was gliding off the chair. He picked you up in his arms with great ease, as if you were a child. He pressed his lips against your cold forehead before he started running down the hallway.  Blood was already dripping from his wound, but he could not feel anything except the pain in his heart. He kept wondering how you got where you were when not even a year ago you were both cuddling on the sofa, in front of the TV, safe from all the darkness this world was made of. His heart stopped when he stepped outside. A dozen of guns were pointed at you two, ready to fire in any second. His eyes stopped on the person in the center, an imposing man dressed in an expensive looking suit, with gray hair and a fancy cane with the head of a tiger in his right hand. He took a few steps towards Jungkook, his facial features becoming clearer under the lights coming from the cars behind.

Black Tiger... he thought.

"Long time no see, Jungkook-ah."

He gulped. How come at the very moment something seemed to go well, everything had to take an 180 degree turn and shatter like pieces of glass. For the first time that night, fear started to take over him. But he brushed it off quickly and frowned as he tried to think of a way to get both of you out of there alive. He tightened the grip around your frail body, never wanting to let you go, and looked the man deep in the eye.

"Father..."