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treedaddymcpuffpuff · 4 months

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Beneath Miles of Stone - Part six - John Wick x Plus Size Fem Reader

Summary: John has been in prison for nine months. He’s content to stay if it means appeasing the high table and keeping peace between the owners of each continental. However, he meets someone who erases that willingness. Peace be dammed.

TW: gore ; violence against women ; death ; vomiting

“This actually looks great,” she says while covering up the slash in his gut with less gauze than it usually needs. “It’s much smaller.”

He hums. It feels better, too. Her magic touch has given him the ability to breathe and eat and move without horrible pain.

She remembers when she first saw him and thought he had pale skin, but she realizes now that that sallow color was because he was in agony and probably dancing tiptoes around sepsis. He turns more golden-toned by the day as he heals.

“Bet you can’t wait to get out of here and move around more,” she comments, pulling his shirt back down. He savors the feeling of plump, gentle fingers brushing his skin.

While the thought of a good stretch and a couple hundred crunches to bring back his wasting body does sound good, he dreads the thought of not being able to see her again. He would have to start fights on purpose - accrue broken limbs and bloody wounds - just to get back down here. It doesn’t sound so bad. He’s used to getting the shit beat out of him, after all, and, if it’s on his own terms, staying handcuffed to a bed and injured is a fair trade for seeing his nurse.

“I would like to feel the sun,” he says, honest enough.

She places her hand on his shoulder. Even through the cotton fabric of his shirt, he feels the comfort of her skin. He leans a bit into her touch. “You will,” she says softly.

What good is feeling the sun, though, if she is still underground?

It’s 4PM. She’s usually asleep right now, but she picked up an afternoon shift and plans to work 16 hours until 7 AM the next morning. Usually, pick up shifts are the shittiest ones, but John is her patient again and she has an easy assignment. Plus, free lunch today for all staff and no Benny.

You can’t get much better than this.

She sits down to chart with her deli sandwich by her side, and notices that no one is in the hallway, which is strange for this time of day. It’s a bad idea, to just shrug that off, but she finds herself lolled into a false sense of security.

It’s the shiny red hue that catches her eye. Everything is so white and grey in here that it’s hard to miss the bright liquid puddling on the floor around a corner. She blinks, rubs her eyes, convinced that it’s a trick of sleep deprivation at first.

She gets up, pushes in her chair out of habit and because she’s afraid to walk over and look.

See enough dead bodies - stuff enough of them in bags while you’re busy and overworked - and it becomes natural not to balk at them. This is not the kind of dead body she’s used to.

It’s a guard, she can tell by the dark blue uniform, but his face is bludgeoned in so much that he’s unrecognizable. A spike of brown hair sticks up from the black and purple viscera that is his face.

Blobs of pale flesh dot the floor around his body.

She fights the urge to vomit on his corpse, swings around the corner and presses her back to the wall with her hand over her mouth so she doesn’t have to look or scream.

It takes her a moment of holding back bile to remember that there’s a code button on the desk at the nurse’s station. She tries to run to it but her feet feel like anchors and she doesn’t make it two sluggish steps before there’s a gun pressed to her face.

“Hello nurse,” the rogue inmate greets. “I think you should sit.”

She looks at the blood speckled floor, hesitates, he taps the barrel on her cheek. “Sit.”

It’s cold down here, but she barely feels it, too consumed by the adrenaline that comes with having a gun level with your brain.

She hears loud shouting from somewhere down the hallway. The man with the gun kneels down beside her, shading himself behind the desk. “Shut up, or I’ll fucking kill you,” he hisses, droplets of sour spit landing on her cheek.

More shouting, gun shots, yelling. Footsteps running in the opposite direction.

The guard gets on his heels to peak over the counter, and she watches the gun bob sideways in his hand. There’s barely enough time to contemplate taking it before he’s trying to haul her up by the arm.

“Come the fuck on!” He hisses as she tries to stand quickly on slow, shaking legs and stumbles forward.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” There’s another inmate. The only thing she notices about this one is that he’s bigger.

“This is called leverage,” the man holding her arm tells the other, jerking her again.

“That’s called liability weighing you down.” The other one doesn’t have a gun that she can see.

“So kill her?”

Her heart blips.

“I don’t give a shit.”

“I got keys.” This from another prisoner behind them.

The two others look at him like he’s an idiot.

His eyes widen when he sees her. “Thought you locked them all up?”

“We had to kill one,” gunman says, looking directly at her. “They got violent.”

It would be comical if she were watching this in a movie. Three prisoners bumbling around and arguing about what to do with a stray nurse.

“I think we should use her, they’re not gonna shoot us if we’re holding the gun to her head.”

“If she were a tiny girl, I’d say sure,” the other argues, “but making sure she stays with you is more trouble than she’s worth.”

“So lock her up,” third inmate shrugs.

“Too much time. Give me the gun and I’ll kill her.” The bigger of the three tries to reach for the gun but gets the barrel pointed at his head instead.

“Get your own,” he growls.

John grabs the biggest one by the back of the neck and smashes the front of his neck with heavy metal. His whole body folds in half, and, as he goes down, his face smashes off John’s knee.

Her eyes are focused on the blood pouring from his nose and mouth instead of the fight happening between John and the other men.

He twists a wrist until it breaks, grabs the gun, and then her attention is back on the fight when the shot goes off into the guys head. As quick as the bullet is out of the barrel, John is aiming at the other man and pulling the trigger. The gun clicks empty. He uses it to hit the other man in the face while the metal tube clears his feet out from under him.

The original gunman tries to grab him, but he’s too quick. He brings the metal to his temple and smashes again.

She watches him join his colleagues on the red concrete.

Then she mistakenly looks up at her savior and remembers why you never meet your heroes.

Handcuffed to that bed, he had begun to seem so docile and helpless. Standing here in front of her with blood - not his own - splattering his face, he is tall, broad, angry, unchained, transformed into something bestial.

She feels herself hit the wall without realizing she’s been backing away from him.

Blood pounds so hard in her ears she has to focus when he talks, but something about the way he speaks tells her that she needs to listen like her life depends on it.

The commanding baritone of his voice captures her like a deer in headlights.

He says her name and grips the metal in his hand harder. Her eyes dart from the makeshift weapon back to his face. She tries to swallow the dryness in her mouth.

“Are you okay?”

“What?” She squeaks, gripping at the wall.

“Are. You. Okay?” John takes a few steps toward her and she cowers under his massive shadow.

“I.. I don’t know.”

He loses patience, stalks up to her. She braces for impact by screwing her eyes shut and turning her head.

Leaden, calloused fingers touch her face without harmful intent, spreading a feeling into her skin that makes her shiver despite the furnace of his touch. She opens her eyes, looks up at him, and sees he is focused on her left cheek where a bruise is almost faded away.

“Tell me,” he presses, using three fingers on her chin to turn her eyes level with his own.

“I’m okay,” she whispers.

Loud shots pop down the hallway. Two prisoners round the corner with guns in their hands, running so fast they hit the opposite wall and tumble into one another.

John’s head snaps to the commotion. The two men lock eyes with him. She tries to shrink back into herself, become invisible, but it doesn’t work and they see her, too. Here she is, caught in the middle of a prison riot in her baby blue scrubs, a fragile case of soft meat ready to be pulverized.

“Is that your hostage?” One of the men asks, motioning toward her with the gun.

John turns around to face them while pressing her back into the wall behind him.

He smells like sweat and metal and damp earth. She becomes sandwiched between his balmy body and the freezing wall, overwhelmed and unable to breathe with any sort of stability.

“Can we borrow her?” The other asks. Neither of them stop walking toward John. She can’t see around or above him but she hears the thick footsteps of them getting closer.

Five guards run around the corridor, guns raised.

He is perfectly still, her human shield, almost as if he is building up or waiting for something. She tries to stay just as still as him while tucked behind his body like a coward.

“Put your weapons do-“ the security guard can’t finish his sentence before a bullet bites into the flesh of his shoulder. Messy shot from one of the inmates. Blood rains, and John moves.

Most of the things he does are too fast for her to see, but the crunch of bone is unmistakable when he twists an inmate’s arm around until it snaps and grabs the gun from his limp hand.

The man screams, drops to his knees. His companion swears, scrambles, points his weapon at John, but there’s already a palm slammed into the bones of his nose. Another sickening crack. She fights the urge to vomit.

It’s like the guards have as much trouble seeing his movement as she does, because they are dropping and screaming and wild-eyed. It’s hard to understand what’s happening to them until she sees blood flowing and spurting from bullet holes in lower limbs.

Eleven men on the ground, and John still stands unharmed.

Ringing ears, the steady roll of hot blood, screaming. Bodies.

Loud, sudden sirens rip her from the heavy descent of shock. She snaps back into reality when John grabs her arm and pulls.

A millisecond later, he tosses her into a treatment room, slams and locks the door. Gunshots ring in muffled sequence behind her.

She wonders what is wrong with her, why she can’t find moving legs underneath her. She feels slow again, almost like she’s trying to get somewhere important in a dream and unconscious gravity is weighing her down with debilitating force.

She slides down to the floor, puts her head in her hands, the room tilts and distorts around her. She shuts her eyes as tight as she can, but she still feels like she’s riding a tiny boat in a huge, angry ocean. She leans to the side and vomits from sea sickness.

Bile splatters up from the floor onto her scrubs and hair and skin.

She puts her head down to stop the spinning, folds into her own body for some kind of comfort. At least she doesn’t realize that she’s crying right now.

John presses himself into an alcove, reloads, thinks. It takes a second. He catches his breath. How does he get her out of here? He can’t leave her in the infirmary. Someone with enough force can easily break down the door that she’s behind and get in. If he drags her along while he fights through the prison, that’s still her neck on a silver platter no matter if he’s confident he can protect her or not.

He could barricade himself in the room with her, wait for things to settle, but he doesn’t know how long this will last. He guesses two to three days at most before enough people are dead that the police can infiltrate and kill the rest. Too much waiting for something to go wrong. This has to be quick. If he didn’t have to keep one eye on the door he left her behind, he could easily incapacitate everyone in here in decent time. If he brings her with him, he can’t do things efficiently or quietly. It will have to be succinct, sparing, a running sprint - he will hurt her from the manhandling he will have to use in order to keep her major organs and arteries safe.

At least she’ll be alive.

No more disabling shots, now. He can’t afford them. Lethal hits: head, femoral, mesenteric, radial arteries.

He exits from the bloodbath into her clean room, shuts the door, leans down and grabs her shoulders. He measures. Carrying her, although viable, would slow him down and make him sloppy. He calls her name, makes her look at him.

Sick stains the corner of her mouth and her clothes and she looks like she already got the piss beat out of her.

“John,” she says like a tiny, terrified child, huddling away from him.

He grimaces. Her shell-shocked stare makes his heart burn. He pulls her into his lap, smooths her hair. She resists initially because of fear, but easily gives and sobs into his chest. He holds her to quell the screaming child. He understands this cry all too well.

“Listen to me,” he tells her, and immediately she quiets.

His voice captivates the chaos, brings her down into the atmosphere. She clutches at him, urging him to keep talking, tell her it’s going to be okay.

“I’m going to get you out. But you have to stay beside me, keep calm, and do as I say.”

“What about you?” She asks. “Are you getting out?”

He looks at her incredulously, baffled by the concern she still has for him despite everything she has just seen him do.

He doesn’t know why it takes him this long, why the realization just hits him now. Sitting here with her holding onto him like he’s the only thing securing her to the earth, and It’s right there in her face, as clear as spring water. She is completely infatuated with him.

He tilts his head down at her, studies the look on her face, memorizes it, tucks it away for later, then does something irrational and born from basic instinct and ancestral need.

She doesn’t understand why he’s wiping the vomit off her mouth until his lips touch hers. She stills, pulls back for a minute, but he grabs the side of her neck and holds, takes. She gives. There is no prison, no violence, no fight here once her mouth agrees with his own.

He tastes like copper and sweat. His tongue is as much of a weapon as his hands are. It pushes past her lips and tangles in her mouth.

Life pulses weak and out of focus, a dying heart in the background of their embrace, until he releases his grip and she pulls away.

Her heart tries to run out of her chest, and she’s not sure if it means to flee toward or away from him.

She’s suddenly very aware of her body invading his space. He is solid and strong; lean, long thighs supportive under her bottom. She still feels self-conscious, though, wonders if he thinks she’s too heavy and is just too polite to say so. At the same time, she’s clinging to him so tightly that she thinks he’s the only thing holding her down to earth.

He cradles her cheek in his palm, keeps her eyes on him. “You follow me, you listen to me, you let me put you where I want you. Understand?”

She nods, eyes wide, brought back into the present by his pressing tone.

“What are you doing?” He asks, urging her to repeat his demands.

“Following you, listening to you, going where you want me to go.”

“No,” he says, “staying where I put you.”

She looks confused.

“If I put you on my back, you stay there. If I shove you into a corner, you stay there, if I pull you, you keep up, even if your feet drag and your body hurts. You move how I move you.”

“I’ll slow you down.”

“You will if you don’t listen to me,” he corrects.

“Just leave me-“

He cuffs her on the cheek, not enough to hurt, enough to stop her from talking and startle her.

But it does hurt, the faintest sting on her already sensitive skin, and she recoils, scared. He pulls her back. “Do you understand me?” He punctuates her name.

“Yes.” It is a quiet whimper from her mouth.

It’s hard to watch people die, even more difficult if the person you admire is doing the killing. He’s been through this, what she experiences now. Reluctance to kill turns into blood lust while trust and reliance turn into trepidation.

Even though they are traveling up, it feels like a journey to hell. He murders easier than he breathes. Limbs are twigs, heads are targets, and she feels like a suitcase that he has to carry around a busy airport

She wishes this were a quick blur, but instead the fighting and the screaming seem to move in slow motion. John does what he says he’s going to do, and she experiences every bit of his raw strength as he pulls and pushes her body. At one point she feels envious of the dying men because at least they only get a few seconds of his fury before it ends.

And as much as he attempts not to hurt her, he fails. Still, when they get out into the dying wintery sun, she holds onto him. Bruises are forming on her arms and her collar, her light blue scrubs are scuffed with dirt and blood, and her face turned from crying to stoic and lightless a long while ago.

He takes her phone from her pocket while they sit on the curb and his warm arm wraps around her shoulders while he dials 911. Her blunt nails dig through his shirt into skin as she clings.

“You did good,” he says. “You’ll be okay.”

She hears him, but she’d rather cling harder than answer. She’ll only be okay if he stays with her.

He cringes in her silence, pulls her closer, ass numbing on the freezing wet sidewalk.

He grabs her ruddy blue hands and tucks both under one of his own. As the city sun goes down and leaves them in shadow, her shivering increases. Just as he’s about to carry her to warmth, the ambulance and police arrive outside the prison.

She knows he has to go, so she holds him tighter. He untangles her hands, kisses her on the head, and then he’s gone like he never existed in the first place.

She looks for him in the crowd of people that surround her and flash lights into her eyes and ask her if she’s okay. She searches even as she’s being loaded into the back of an ambulance. As they drive away, she watches them bust down the prison doors and wonders where John Wick has gone.

#john wick fanfic #john wick fanfiction #john wick x plus size reader #john wick x reader #john wick x you #keanu reeves fanfiction #keanu reeves fanfic

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dalchiid · 8 months

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𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 53

A story of obsession, fear, and lust. You're a maid whose Masters forbid you in meeting their guests for the night but your luck runs dry when you run into them and catch the attention of Lord Hoseok himself. He's smitten from the beginning and thus, your fate has been decided.

Pairing: Yandere Vampire Hoseok x Fem/AFAB Reader

Word Count: 12,777

Warnings: 18+, Yandere, Obsession, Possessive, Angst, Fear, Blood, Biting, Dub-Con, Eventual smut

Will add or remove warnings based on what's in each chapter.

I do not condone the behavior being exhibited in my work. This is solely for entertainment purposes and I hope if any of you are ever in a situation like this that you have the chance and ability to run away from it. Take care out there.

DO NOT copy, edit, or repost my work anywhere.

Chapter 53 Warnings: Yandere, Possessive, Obsession, Fighting, Drama, Needles, Fear, Angst, Drugging, Blood, Biting

A/N: Here it is! The very last chapter of Covetous. It's been such a wild ride. I started sharing this story almost a year ago can you believe that? A year filled with a lot of ups and downs. I just want to say thank you for giving the story a lot of love. It really means a lot to me. I hope you enjoy this final chapter and I hope I'll see you around for other stories. Take care 💜

Your teeth are clenched hard. So hard and you don't even realize you bit the tip of your tongue until after you taste blood. Fear courses through you and you have the sudden need for everything to please just stop.

Your eyes are sealed shut with all air being taken out of you as you hear the sound of metal hitting metal and the sound of breaking glass. Followed by it is a stillness and the sound of a horn blaring non-stop.

Your eyes slowly open and you look over to Yoongi who winces in pain.

"Are you okay," you hurriedly ask.

He nods before breathlessly asking if you were okay.

"Yeah." Your voice shakes.

The front window is completely shattered. It's focused mostly on Yoongi's side and branches out like a spiderweb towards your side. The windshield wipers are up and the airbags are out and that damned horn is still going.

With shaky hands you undo your seat belt and try to move. Your body aches especially your neck You bring down the sun visor and look into the mirror to see you have a bright and bloody burn across your neck from the seat belt.

"Fuck," you mumble.

Yoongi follows after you and undoes his seat belt as well. He goes to try and open his door but he struggles to get it open.

You're about to tell him not to force it when your door suddenly swings open and you're dragged out of the car. You yelp in surprise and cry out when you land on the street with a hard thud. It takes your eyes a second to adjust in the blaring sunlight but once they do you gasp in fear.

Hoseok is holding you by the front of your shirt and he looks pissed.

There's a bit of blood that runs down from his forehead and creases into his brow. It doesn't make sense to you as to how he got hurt but all you know is that he's right here in front of you. This is not a hallucination.

"Hoseok!" Yoongi cries out.

The young vampire doesn't say anything to him but he glares his brother's way.

You try to get his grip off of you but you're too injured to fight him off properly. "Let me go," you cry weakly but he doesn't budge.

Around the car comes Seokjin who winces as he palms his lower back with his hand. "Did you really have to do that," he asks.

You're not sure what he means until a sudden thought strikes you. Did Hoseok crash into you? Was that his car? It would make sense but at the same time you're wondering how he found you so quickly. What was the likelihood that it was him and not somebody else?

There's a gathering of people around. Some leave their cars to help. They especially help Yoongi who can't get his car door to open.

You're in the middle of slapping Hoseok's hand over and over again to get him to let go of you but his grip is hard as steel. You swivel your legs over to try and kick him and you land a good one on his shin that makes him grit his teeth in pain as he hisses.

"Hoseok let go of me!"

He pulls you up onto your feet by your shirt and shakes you in anger. "You had one chance," he yells. "I gave you one chance and you fucked up!"

"Hey whoa! Whoa!" A pedestrian comes over with two hands raised as if he were approaching a wild animal. "Let the Miss go."

Hoseok seethes through his teeth as he directs his attention over to the man. "This is none of your business."

The man gives you a worried look before looking back at Hoseok. "My Lord she's in pain and you're scaring her. Just le-"

"Did I not make myself clear?!"

The man jerks his head back at the yell but he isn't backing down. He moves forward and grabs Hoseok's wrist which was the wrong move to make. He suddenly goes down when Hoseok releases you to land a punch on him.

"Hoseok!" Both you and Seokjin scream.

In your moment of freedom you try and run off but your captor is much quicker than you. His hand grips the back of your collar and pulls you back. You trip over the asphalt and land on your butt leaving you in more pain.

"Hoseok! Let her go!"

You turn your head to see that Yoongi managed to climb out of his car. His hand is reaching towards you and it makes Hoseok growl.

You're dragged across the street as Hoseok pulls you along towards Yoongi. The edge of your shirt rubs against your burn that makes you hiss. You're about to take your shirt off and run but you come to a stop when Hoseok lets go in favor of grabbing Yoongi by the throat.

"No," you scream. "Let him go!"

Yoongi doesn't go down easily as he grabs Hoseok's shirt in one hand and his shoulder in the other before swiping hard at his feet with a kick. Hoseok falls down and takes his brother with him until the two of them are fighting on the ground.

You stand up and run towards the brothers to try and separate them along with Seokjin who curses.

"Stop it you two," he yells. "Get up!"

You grab Yoongi as Seokjin grabs Hoseok but it's hard to pry them apart.

Onlookers watch the mess that has been made not daring to move a muscle to help. They either just stand there or take out their phones to record. It's disgusting to you.

Rearing his arm back to elbow Seokjin in the chest Hoseok swings forward to land a punch on Yoongi's face. He gets him around the cheek but it doesn't slow the older vampire down. He takes a jab back and lands a punch of his own across Hoseok's face.

You're in too much pain and too weak to break the fight apart. It all falls on Seokjin to do most of the work but he's still healing from his minor injuries from the accident.

A mixture of sirens flow through the air as both cops and ambulances come to the scene. They honk at the people who are in the way until there's enough space for them to drive through.

Yoongi and Hoseok are still fighting - one out of pure rage and the other in self defense. For a moment Seokjin manages to separate the two and tries his best to pin Hoseok down but he won't stop. Yoongi gets on his knees as he tries to regain his breath. You grip onto the back of his shirt as tears flood your eyes.

"Stop fighting," you cry. "Please stop fighting."

Hoseok looks at you and sees the way you hold onto his brother and it makes a new wave of anger fall over him. He throws his head back against Seokjin's chin as he tries to fight out of his grip.

"Get off of me!"

Seokjin grits his teeth. "Not until you calm down."

A blood curdling yell forces its way out of Hoseok's throat as he continues to thrash around.

"What's going on here?" A police officer comes running over with two other in tow. He looks concerned but when he sees who it is he's dealing with his eyes open wide in surprise.

Seokjin looks up at them with furrowed brows as he tries his best to keep his brother in control but he's starting to lose his grip.

You look between them and Hoseok with fat wet tears streaming down your face. You're still gripping onto Yoongi's shirt with fear coursing through your system. There's no other way to describe what you're feeling besides fear. Hoseok caught up with you without either of you two realizing it. Is this the universe telling you that this is your fate? That no matter where you run he will always be near you?

No. You can't think like that. You won't let this be your end.

You sniffle as you direct your attention to the nearest police officer. "Help," you say. "I need your help."

He kneels down by you as paramedics and EMTs run towards you all.

"What's wrong?" The officer asks. "What's going on?"

It was now or never. "I've been kidnapped. Yoongi tried saving me but Hoseok is trying to take me back."

A look of surprise coats his features as he looks over to his Lords. He must know them by name because he doesn't question who is who. Even then seeing the way you're hanging off of Yoongi gives him an idea of who he is to you.

"Why are you lying?!" Hoseok screams.

You flinch at the sound and cower behind his brother.

An EMT approaches you when he sees your neck. He's about to ask you something but your mind grows foggy.

"Ma'am let me see your neck."

Through the haze you feel yourself shaking your head. "I-I'm fine," you say. "I... want to go home."

"Not until you get checked. You were just in a really bad accident. I think it's best if you go to the hospital." He looks over at the three vampires. "All of you."

"We'll heal just fine." Seokjin says. "Just check on her."

Yoongi looks at you in concern. "Y/N. Let them take you to the hospital. I'll handle things here with the police."

His words seem to fall flat around you permeating into the ground leaving you with no effect.

Before you can stop yourself you say his brother's name.

"Hoseok."

You look towards him and he looks like he's calming down, but he stares at you like he's concentrating. Is he...

"Let's get going, Miss. I'll help you through this."

"I'm going." Hoseok says.

"Fat chance in hell you are." Yoongi growls.

They glare at each other but you're not really here to say or do anything about it.

"I need whoever the drivers are to stay so I can get some information." A police officer says. "You can leave me with the documents then go to the hospital but if not stay."

Hoseok is a lot calmer but there's a hint of worry in his eyes. He sits up and when Seokjin realizes he won't fight he releases him.

"I can give you the documents but I'm going with my partner to the hospital."

"That's fi-"

"So what? So you can take her back to her prison right after?! Hoseok I love you but she doesn't belong with us. She doesn't belong to you!" Yoongi's words cut the officer off.

Everyone seems to be on edge including everyone who came to help. Meanwhile you're on your knees swaying side to side.

"She loves me! And I love her!" Hoseok yells. "If you're too blind to see that then that's not my problem!"

Yoongi snarls. "You're delusional."

This takes Hoseok aback and hurt flashes across his face. His eyes gloss over with unshed tears as he flares his nostrils. This reaction seems to do something to Yoongi because he winces before looking off towards the side. He doesn't want to look at Hoseok anymore.

"If everyone will feel better about this I can go with her." Seokjin says.

"You're not any better." Yoongi bites though his brows furrow in pain. Like speaking against his brothers is hurting him.

"Well we need a decision stat because the Miss needs help." The EMT says.

Seokjin stands up and walks over to you. "Hoseok and Yoongi were the ones driving. Y/N and I were just the passengers." He reaches out a hand that you take without thinking. "Let's go."

"Y/N. Y/N wait!"

You ignore Yoongi's words and come to stand with his older brother's help. Seokjin takes your left as the EMT takes your right as they help you to the ambulance. You're helped on board all the while Yoongi yells for Seokjin but neither of you look back.

Once you're settled another EMT comes over and talks to his partner before they ask Seokjin which hospital. The vampire tells them and they set off to take you there.

As they drive off suddenly the fog leaves your head and you gasp. You look around you in fear especially when you note Seokjin is with you.

Hoseok did it. He did it again. He controlled your mind. You start to tremble as you think on this. You would ask how could he but you're not surprised at all.

Seokjin eyes you as the EMT starts to ask you questions. Your name, your date of birth, any underlying issues you have that they should know about. They don't question however how you and Seokjin look at each other. Like a rabbit being stared down by a fox.

You lick your lips nervously before you part them to speak. "How?"

His brow raises in question. "How what?"

Your bottom lip trembles. "How did you find me?"

Seokjin sighs deeply. "It was by pure coincidence. Honestly."

You frown. "Bullshit."

He doesn't say anything at first before shrugging his shoulders. "Believe what you want to believe but it's the truth." A small smile adorns his lips but it looks absolutely wicked. "Maybe it was fate."

Your frown gross deeper into a look of disgust.

The EMT doesn't say anything but he keeps looking at the two of you warily.

The rest of the ride is silent. You wince here and there when a bump on the road is hit. Now that the adrenaline is leaving you you're feeling all sorts of aches and pains. Your chest hurts like someone punched you really hard. The pain even radiates down to your knees. Sighing hurts so you try not to. There's just so much going on with your body that you want to get checked out.

When you arrive at the hospital they take you to the back where they help you onto a wheelchair. You were about to deny using one at first but the nurse and EMT insisted.

You're wheeled into a private room where Seokjin waits with you. The nurse says she'll be with you in just a moment leaving you alone with the vampire.

You can hear the rush of back and forth in the hall behind the closed door as other patients are being attended to.

Seokjin leans his back against the wall and crosses his feet. His hands are shoved into his pockets and he stares at the wall across from him. He seems to be doing fine despite the accident. You're reminded of vampires' fast healing. If only that could be extended towards you because you're starting to really feel it.

You rest your arm on the armrest of the wheelchair and rub your temple. To think that you were on your way to safety. You could have been out of this stupid place and on your way to Minjeong. Only if Hoseok didn't go in search of you. He should have just gone and gotten Jimin's cake with his brother and leave you alone. But that would be too easy. It's never easy for you.

Thinking about Seokjin you just get angry. The way he encouraged Hoseok to search for you... It makes you grit your teeth and work your jaw.

"You're an asshole, you know that?" You can't stop yourself from speaking out.

Seokjin looks over to you with a brow raised. "I've been called worse."

You glare at him. "Before all of this you were talking to Hoseok. Both you and Namjoon. Why couldn't you just mind your business?"

He tongues his cheek before huffing a mocking laugh. "And let you get away with making my brother look like a fool? Yeah no." He uncrosses his feet and comes over to sit on the chair next to you. "You know I didn't believe in Namjoon at first when he told me."

Your heart rate spikes. "What did he tell you?"

"That you fell for him because he was nice to you."

You scoff. Of course he would say that. Anything to cover the real truth about the relationship between you two.

"He also told me how you confided in him that you wanted to escape. I had a hard time believing any of this because this is Namjoon we're talking about. He's a liar."

"No shit," you grumble.

"But the more he expressed worry for Hoseok the more I had to believe him. Especially when you started to "change."" He air quotes. "I could have believed that you were actually falling for my brother. Times change. People change. But when Namjoon told me you were lying and that you more than likely were planning your escape I started to dig further into this mess you caused." He stares you down. "You forget my eyes are everywhere."

To this you laugh.

His eyes are everywhere yet he could never paint the big picture of you and Namjoon. It's actually hilarious to you.

"What's so funny?"

You give one more chuckle. "Just that you don't know jackshit about anything. Despite your "eyes.""

You can tell he wants to question you on what you mean but there's a knock to the door and in enters a doctor.

"Y/N," he asks and you nod. "I'm Dr. Sanchez. I heard about what happened. How are you feeling?"

You give him a deadpan look. "Like I just got hit by a car."

The doctor laughs. "Yeah I deserved that answer." But he doesn't seem like he's embarrassed or upset with you over the comment.

He comes closer to you and has you angle your head to the side so he can check your neck.

"No doubt from the seat belt," he mumbles to himself. "Any other cuts or bruises?

You shake your head. "Not that I know of. I haven't gotten the chance to check."

His hand hovers over your stomach. "May I check?"

You look over at Seokjin and he rolls his eyes before looking off towards the side.

Nodding to the doctor the man takes the chance to look over your chest. Sure enough there's a large bruise forming across it.

"Seat belts save lives but they can leave behind one hell of a mark." Dr. Sanchez says. "How is your breathing? Is it difficult for you?"

"A little. Yeah," you say as he brings your shirt back down.

He stands to his full height and nods. "I'm going to have you set up for an X-ray for your chest. We just want to make sure you don't have any fractured ribs." He nods. "Any other places you're feeling pain?"

Your fingers run over your knees. "Just my knees."

"Can I check them as well?"

You nod before looking over at Seokjin. His sights are still directed away from you. So with the help of the doctor you lower your pants so he can look you over.

There are bruises on both knees that has you a little confused. You express that to the doctor as he helps pull up your pants again.

"You more than likely hit them on the underside of the dashboard. It happens sometimes. We can get X-rays for that too."

You nod with a small "Okay."

"I'll put the order in for you. Someone from the X-ray department will come for you and then we can go on from there, okay?"

You nod again.

The doctor is about to leave until a call of his name stops him.

Seokjin stands. "Can I have a word with you?"

Your eyes turn to slits as you glare at the vampire. "Seokjin," you warn but he ignores you.

The two men proceed to leave you alone in the room as they step outside to talk.

You're still glaring despite Seokjin being gone but it's because you don't trust him.

Why would he need to talk to the doctor in private? If it was about your injuries they could have easily discussed this in front of you. You don't know but you're feeling very uncomfortable right now.

You could sit here and wait but you don't trust Seokjin so you do your best to stand up despite the pain you're feeling. You walk over to the door and press your ear against it but all you hear is the commotion as people are back and forth. You're wondering if Seokjin and the doctor are even nearby and you chance peeking outside. You don't see them at first but when you do Seokjin notices you. They're standing by a nurse station talking but Seokjin's attention is all on you. You grit your teeth in annoyance as you stare back at him. You would make a run for it now but your legs feel too weak with the pain. If you want out of here you'll have to come up with another plan.

Dr. Sanchez and Seokjin end their conversation and you watch as the latter makes his way back to you. You can't tell what emotion he's feeling but you suspect it's nothing good.

"What were you two talking about," you ask once he's in front of you.

"Get inside."

He pushes you back with a hand to your shoulder. It's a firm shove and you find yourself falling deeper into the room until you're seated back on the wheelchair.

"What were you talking about?" You try again.

He takes a seat next to you and sighs. "Nothing important."

"Right," you say sarcastically. "Whatever you say."

You know he's not going to tell you so you're not even going to try and push for an answer.

The two of you are quiet as you wait for someone from the X-ray department to come get you. When they finally do it's a young woman who smiles at you.

"Y/N," she asks.

You nod your head.

"I'm here to take you to get your X-ray done." She briefly looks at Seokjin who smiles at her. "Are you ready?"

You nod again with a "Yeah" before she wheels you out.

She takes you to another side of the hospital that isn't as cluttered with people. It's chillier here too but you don't complain. When you reach the room she helps you stand up and directs you over to an operable machine.

"Do you have an piercings or metal plates we should know about?"

You shake your head. "No."

"Okay. Just want to make sure. Don't want to be surprised by anything that we might see is all." She laughs.

You hum.

She has you stand against a wall with the operable machine hanging before it. She directs you on what to do before she heads over into another room with a big window to view you from. Someone is sitting on a chair staring at a monitor and it's with one quick breath do they take your X-ray.

The young woman directs you on how to stand next and then again until she has what she needs.

"Okay that's that. I'm going to need you to lie on the slab here so we can take a look at your knees."

She leads you to the large cold slab in the middle of the room. It's a chore to get you up there without hurting your injuries but there's only so much you can do.

Leaving to enter the other room they take your X-ray again until you're finally done.

Coming out of the room the young woman smiles at you and helps to try and get you off the slab but you hesitate.

"Everything okay," she asks. She can tell something is wrong with you.

"Please don't take me back," you say.

Her brows furrow in confusion. "Why? What's wrong?"

"That man in the room with me. He can't be trusted. He's going to take me back to his brother who kidnapped me. I was on my way to escape when the car accident happened. Please you have to believe me." You don't realize it but your hand is holding hers tightly.

She looks like she's trying to compute everything you just told her. A myriad of emotions flashing across her face.

"Wait," she says. "Are you being serious?"

"I am. Please if you take me back to that room I'm never seeing the light of day ever again."

Her lips slowly part in surprise before she nods. "Oh. Okay I um... We need the police, right?" She doesn't seem to be asking you this but herself. "I'll take you out of here but not because I'm taking you to him but we can't hold up the line for X-ray." Her voice shakes a little. "I'll take you out to the cubicle stations we have out here for waiting patients. You'll be covered for the most part and I'll get officers to come and speak to you."

You sigh in relief. "Thank you."

She helps you to the wheelchair and wheels you out to exactly where she said. It's a line of cubicles with a recliner in each that she helps you settle in on.

"Do you need a blanket," she asks.

Even though you're cold you just want to get out of here so you say no. She nods before moving the wheelchair to the outside of the cubicle.

"I'll be right back," is what she tells you but she doesn't come back.

You figure it's because she's busy and you don't fault her for it. At least you're going to receive some help. You'll just have to wait for it.

Time passes by and you wish you had your phone. It hits you then that you didn't have it. It must be somewhere in that wreck of a car.

You still can't believe what happened. It all seems like something from a movie because the likelihood of it being Hoseok to crash into you? It just blows your mind.

Thinking about him has you worried. Him and Yoongi really got into. Your worry is more about Yoongi though. You wonder if he's okay. If he knows what hospital you're at. If him and Hoseok are fighting again. What's become of him? How will his other brothers treat him when he goes home? There's so much going through your mind. You just hope he's okay.

The longer you stay out here the colder you get and the more impatient you grow. You're about to say fuck it and just find help yourself or walk out but you hear someone call out your name. It's Dr. Sanchez and he has two officers with him.

"Doctor," you say surprised.

He smiles at you and directs his attention to the officers. "She's the one."

Your brows furrow in confusion. "Are you... going to help," you ask. You don't know who you're directing your question to but the doctor continues to smile.

"We're all here to help, Y/N." He digs into his lab coat pocket and takes out a capped needle.

Your expression drops into one of fear. "What do you need that for?"

An officer walks over to grab you by the arm but you quickly climb up the recliner. He reaches for you again and this time has a good grip on you.

"Get the fuck off me!" He drags you down and onto the floor where your knees bang against it. You howl in pain as the other officer grabs your other arm. "Get off! Help! I need help!"

"It'll be okay, Y/N. Just stay still for me." The doctor says as he takes off the cap on the needle.

"No!" You kick out and hit his leg.

He barely reacts to it. Merely gives a small wince. "Come on now. Let's calm down," he says.

You're about to kick him again but one of the officers leans down to grab your leg. He curls you up before quickly wrapping himself around your back and holds you in a bear hug. The pressure he applies on your chest hurts so much that you cry out.

The other officer holds your arm out but you flex the muscle as you try to fight him off.

"Here we go." Dr. Sanchez says.

Against your will he puts the needle into your arm and you scream. Slowly he pushes down on the plunger and into you seeps whatever concoction he's made. You're full on crying now but no one comes to help.

Once it's all in the needle is taken out and with it the officers let you go.

You try and fight to stand up but you feel woozy. You're unstable on your feet and you find yourself falling to the ground each time you try standing up. One last try has you crumbling completely to the ground and before you blackout you see Seokjin who was waiting around the corner.

✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞

The first thing you notice is that your head hurts and that you're drooling. You cringe at both feelings. Your head rubs against something soft and you realize that you're no longer cold. Something warm is covering you. A blanket maybe? Has to be.

You grunt as you start to feel more and more of your body coming to life. Your chest hurts so bad and you find that stretching hurts too much even though your body wants to do just that.

You whimper in pain but there's a weird fog in your head. Like you've been asleep for too long. What time was it anyway?

Your eyes slowly open and you begin to realize bit by bit that this setting is familiar. From the smell to the sheets.

You suddenly sit up despite the pain and look around you to see that you're back in Hoseok's room and sitting at the edge of the bed is Hoseok himself.

You gasp before crying and push yourself up against the headboard.

Hoseok stares at you without an expression to give. If it weren't because he blinked you wouldn't even think he were real because of how still he is.

"Hoseok," you cry. "No, please no."

He takes in a deep breath before releasing it and blinks slowly. "It's 11:35 at night. You haven't eaten anything."

Your brows draw together in confusion. Could it really be that late?

You flinch when he stands up but he doesn't react to it. Instead he walks over to your side of the bed and sits down next to you. You note his attention is on a tray on your nightstand. On the tray is a bowl of what looks like to be oatmeal. He grabs the spoon on the side and slowly begins to swirl the food about. When he's done he rests the spoon on the edge of the bowl and looks at you.

"You need to eat," he says.

Your bottom lip trembles in both fear and the need to want to cry more.

"Y/N," he tries again but you shoot him down.

"Fuck you."

There's a slight twitch to his brow. "Don't make this harder than it needs to be."

You sniffle. "Let me go."

"No." The answer is immediate.

"Let me go," you say again. "Where's Yoongi?"

Hoseok frowns. "You don't have to worry about him."

"He's my friend! I need to kno-"

"He's a traitor!"

You flinch back.

Hoseok is standing and nearly looms over you. He sees the way you cower though and it makes him lean back a bit but he sticks by you.

"Yoongi he's," he pauses. "He's at the party. I already forgave him."

You slowly shake your head. "You're lying."

He smiles but it looks more like a sneer. "No. Unlike him I'm not a liar... He's fine. He's at Jimin's party. It's all water under the bridge now."

Could you believe him? You're not sure but you hope he's right. For Yoongi's sake.

You look around you and that feeling of wooziness slowly begins to dissipate. You're starting to feel that this is more a reality than a dream.

"Why," he questions you. "Why did you leave?"

You look at him in disgust. "You know why."

"No actually I don't. You have everything here. You have me yet you left. I thought," he pauses to swallow deeply. "I thought you loved me."

He looks hurt but you don't care. You're not going to lie anymore.

"That was all fake."

He flinches at your words. "You don't mean that." His words come out in a whisper.

Your back straightens as you bristle. "I mean it."

He works his jaw in irritation. "Namjoon warned me-"

"So what about Namjoon?!" You grip the sheets between your clenched fist. "You want to believe everything he says?"

"No I don't want to but he-"

"I don't care! He's a lying sack of shit that isn't even worth my time."

"He's my brother." Hoseok grits out.

You begin to laugh hysterically. "What a fucking brother!"

"What does that mean?"

Your eyes begin to water as you ground out your words. "He's a liar. He's a fake."

"Stop talking about him like that. You don't know Namjoon like I do."

"Oh but I do," you laugh. "Why don't you ask him why I hate him so much, hm? Why I stopped wanting to hang out with him?"

It takes Hoseok a moment before he speaks. "Why Y/N?"

Your hands come up to your face as you cry but you're borderline laughing. You're growing manic.

"Besides telling you how I wanted to escape did he tell you anything more?"

Hoseok slowly shakes his head no.

You're cry laughing as you shake your head too mocking him. "Did he tell you how he made me fall in love with him, hm?"

He realizes what you said to him and it makes him frown. "You're lying."

"I'm lying? I'm lying?!" You're nearly screaming. "Am I lying when I tell you he was fingers deep in me at almost every single one of our encounters? Am I?!"

Hoseok's expression drops into one of surprise and hurt. "What?"

You continue to laugh as tears stream down your face. "And I loved every. Fucking. Minute of it."

Trembling Hoseok walks back from you. His chest begins to rise and fall in what you assume to be an oncoming anxiety attack. It's at this do you realize what it is you said to him. No longer are you smiling. Especially when he runs at you.

You scream as you cover your face but he doesn't hit you. Instead his fist met the wall just above the headboard. When you chance a look at him you see the anger clearly evident on his face but he's also crying.

It's your turn to tremble but it's out of fear. You've never seen him like this before and you're absolutely terrified.

Hoseok draws back slowly as he breathes in and out deeply as he tries to regain his bearings. He hiccups as more tears pour out and he finds himself laughing just as you were before.

"And that's why," he says. "You're never. Ever! Leaving this room again."

"Hoseok," you say. "Hoseok! You're not leaving me in here!" You hurriedly get out of bed to run after him as he goes towards the door but you trip and fall down. "What," you say breathlessly. Looking down at your foot you see that you're shackled to the bed. "Hoseok?!"

Looking back up at him you see him standing by the door. He looks proud of his work especially when he displays the key for what you assume to be your shackle on a chain. He pulled it out of his pocket and hooks it around his neck.

"Now," he says with a sardonic smile. "Rest here and eat your food. I'll go and deal with Namjoon." Walking out he slams the door behind him and leaves you alone in your prison.

You start to scream and bang your fists against the floor. "Hoseok! HOSEOK!" No matter how hard you cry he doesn't come back.

You spend the rest of the night curled up on the floor crying. Your body aches. Your soul aches. It hurts to breathe.

At some point you get up off of the floor and give the shackle an experimental tug. Wrapped around you is cold, hard, metal. How didn't you notice it before?

Your hands check around your foot and you tug and tug on it. You see that the end of it is wrapped around one of the posters of the footboard. You won't be able to get out of this without that stupid key.

You sit on the bed and look at the bowl of oatmeal. Your stomach growls at the sight of it. You hate how it does but you can't help the need to want to eat it. It must be cold by now but you'll attempt to put some of it in your stomach.

Despite being cold it tastes good. It's just the one good thing to happen to you tonight.

When you're halfway through it you start to feel tired. You guess it's the stress from today. It could be the only reason why but your body begins to weigh you down.

No, you think. This is something else.

You flop back onto the bed with your legs hanging off the side. Did Hoseok drug you? Did he put something in the oatmeal?

At the realization of this you whimper and curl in on yourself.

You just want to cry but you don't have the strength to. You just whimper pathetically until you can no longer keep your eyes open and you fall into another deep sleep.

✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞

When you come to your eyes lazily shift around you. You can't find the energy to move so you close your eyes again. You just feel so groggy yet you have the chills.

You feel a hand card through your hair in a comforting way and you already know who it belongs to.

"Hoseok," you say weakly.

"I'm here, baby. I'm here."

He sits up behind you and helps you roll over until you're on your back. It's there do you open your eyes again and he gets to see how out of it you still are.

Your teeth chatter and you wonder why. Whatever the reason might be you just want it to stop.

He hums. "How are you feeling?"

You huff. "Like shit." Your body trembles despite being beneath the covers. "Why am I sh-shaking so much? What did you put in the oatmeal?"

Hoseok runs his hand across your cheek. "It's not what I put in there. You're just going through withdrawal."

You realize after everything that happened yesterday you were left alone without a hit. It makes sense.

You sigh and try to burrow your way further beneath the covers. "Well," you say. "Aren't you going to do something about it?"

His hand stops before he brings it over to rest onto his lap. With his eyes half-lidded resembling a minor glare. "Do you actually think you deserve it?"

You're as frozen as possible despite the shaking as you stare at him.

"Hoseok." What can you say? What can you do? You did try running away but you're back, albeit, against your will. "But I'm back."

He huffs a laugh. "It doesn't change the fact that you betrayed me. In more ways than one."

Your expression is blank because you don't know what to do and he sees this.

"Do I have to paint a picture for you to understand? You ran away after you told me you wouldn't. You lied about loving me and you admitted to me that you fucked my brother."

"I d-didnt fuck him." You lick your lips nervously. "We just did... other things with each other."

"It doesn't change the fact that you did things with him and it won't change the fact that I broke his nose over it."

Your eyes widen in surprise. "Y-You did that?"

He sits up straighter but he's still glaring at you. "Of course I did. Did you actually think that by telling me this I wouldn't do anything? He had you in ways he shouldn't have. So I broke his nose." He pauses and here he looks conflicted. "I honestly wanted to kill him but my brothers held me back so I did the next best thing which was to hurt him. Break something."

To be honest you wish you could have seen that. It serves Namjoon right for hurting you but you also know you had to give up private information about you two that you should have kept quiet about. You were just in hysterics. That would happen to anyone you think. You were so close to escaping then the accident happened. You could have gotten help at the hospital but the doctor betrayed you. Waking up here next to Hoseok just broke you and so now you're here facing withdrawal with a banged up body and still feeling groggy from whatever shit Hoseok put in the oatmeal last night. Anyone would lose their mind over that.

You release a long shaky breath.

Hoseok takes note of it and his expression softens into one of pity. "You're lucky I love you."

Your eyes shift to the side to look at anywhere but him.

No you're not lucky. You're suffering because of him. It's moments like this where you wish you could turn back time and stop yourself from interacting with Hoseok. You moarn your old life.

Hoseok shifts over to grab something off his nightstand. "Y/N."

He demands your attention and when you look at him you do so nervously. He's holding your phone as he gives you an unreadable look.

"Who's Dawn?"

You look off towards the side again.

No you don't want to answer him.

"Y/N," he says in a warning tone.

"It's n-nobody."

"Don't play games with me."

Still, you say nothing.

He sighs deeply before unlocking your phone and swiping it through it.

"Y/N are you on your way," he reads.

You sit up quickly despite the pain and try to snatches the phone from him. He leans back and places a firm hand against your shoulder as he continues to read.

"Is everything okay? My driver said you're still not there. Please tell me you're okay. Y/N?" He drops the phone onto the bed where it lands with a thud before looking at you. "She's the same person who sent you the address. Again, who is Dawn?"

You look down at your lap and you can feel the way the shackle rubs your ankle uncomfortably when you move your legs to try and curl them up.

The shackle is a stark reminder of how trapped you really are now. It's terrifying.

Hoseok sighs before clearing his throat. He doesn't like your silence so he tries to bargain with you.

"If you tell me who Dawn is I'll give you my saliva. I'll even heal the wound on your neck."

Your attention switches over to him in an instant.

You hate how your mind races with the idea of getting high again. To feel him in a way you're used to and all for a name he desires to hear.

You were on your way to Minjeong so she could help you go to rehab. You were supposed to get better. For a moment there you wanted to get better but you don't have that option now. All you have is imprisonment and the chance to get what you want again. Fuck. Life is hard.

You don't want to sell her out but you need to survive and so you apologize to Minjeong in your head and hope that in some way she feels how sorry you are.

"Minjeong," you whisper. "It's Minjeong."

Hoseok's hand slowly slides down your arm until it lands limply on your lap. "Of course it is." There's a mirthless chuckle.

He picks up the phone again and swipes and presses the screen. You wonder what he's doing until he tosses the phone onto his nightstand.

"W-What did you do," you ask

Hoseok raises a brow before getting on his knees. "I told her to leave you alone. Deleted the contact and blocked the number. You won't be allowed your phone for a while but for now I don't want to hear from her. Ever again."

Your eyes water as your bottom lip trembles.

"Don't do that face. You don't deserve to have your phone period but I'm too nice when it comes to you." His hands cup your cheeks as his thumb rubs over your bottom lip. "Open up."

Slowly you do. Once your lips part he procures a bit of his saliva to spit into your mouth. You note he's preferring not to kiss you. He must be really upset.

The spit hits the back or your throat and you swallow and much to your hesitant delight you feel the high once more.

You whine as you're slowly lowered back down onto the bed. Hoseok doesn't say anything but you feel the way he touches you gently. He may be upset but he's treating you nicely.

He noses his way down your neck until he reaches the burn mark on your neck and swipes his tongue over it. He does it a few times until you think it's completely healed but you hear him say how the seat belt has scarred you. Apparently the burn ran deeper than you thought.

You're far gone with the high and there's a small part that resents you for it. You're so out of it that it takes you a second to realize that Hoseok is undoing your shackle. You slowly lift your head up to look at him as he leaves the key in the lock before rubbing your flesh gently.

It's hard to get a read on him as is but even more so with your head buzzing in ecstasy.

He lets go of your leg in favor of scooping you up bridal style and carrying you off towards the bathroom.

"Wha?" You try to ask him what's going on but you can barely make the first word out.

"I'm going to clean you up," he says.

You don't question him further.

When he sits you up on the counter the high slowly starts to leave you. It's not like he gave you much to begin with.

Coming into the bathroom once again Hoseok lies out your clothes on the space next to you. You see that they're pajamas because of course. He doesn't plan on letting you leave his room.

At first you don't accept when he hands you your toothbrush. You just stare at it then at him without an expression to give. He mirros you with his own expressionless look until he raises his brow.

"Either you do it or I do it for you."

With a sigh you grab the toothbrush and get to work.

Afterwards he helps you undress to get into the shower. He hesitates when he sees the big bruise across your chest. His fingers drag across it softly but you brush his hand aside.

"Just help me shower," you mumble.

You don't want him to help you but you know you don't have a choice so you allow him to.

Allow him. It's such a funny way of saying it because again, you don't have a choice. You could fight him if you wanted you guess but you're in too much pain for all of that.

He's gentle with you, minding all of your injuries, but he's thorough. He doesn't stop to kiss you or anything like he normally would. He's just so focused on getting you two clean.

When you're done and dressed he carries you back into his room. You tell him you can walk but he ignores you.

In the room you see there are two trays laid out on your respective nightstands. The maids must have brought your breakfast in.

Hoseok sits you down on the bed and is quick to wrap the shackle around your ankle again. Twisted and locked - he grabs the chain the key hangs off from and brings it around his neck.

"There," he says before jutting his chin towards your tray. "Eat your food."

You look over to your nightstand and see there's another bowl of oatmeal. You frown at the sight of it.

"I'm not eating that."

Hoseok raises his brow at the challenge in your voice. "Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Y/N don't make things difficu-"

"You drugged me last night. How do you expect me to eat that knowing that you probably drugged it again?"

His jaw flexes as he grits his teeth. "Either you eat it or I force you to. The decision is yours."

Your brows furrow as your eyes widen a bit. "You can't force me to eat."

Hoseok huffs a laugh and walks over to your tray. He grabs something from the opposite side of the bowl that you can't see but when he shows it to you you freeze. It's a capped needle.

"You eat the food and go to sleep or I give you the shot. You choose."

Your eyes begin to slowly water in despair. "This isn't fair."

"You made it unfair when you chose to leave this house."

You grit your teeth as your face begins to crumple. "Why are you doing this to me," you cry. "All I wanted to do was my job. You came into my life and ruined everything."

He doesn't say anything as he watches you fall apart before him.

Your hands come up to cover your eyes as you whimper. "Why? Please just leave me alone."

Your cries seem to mean nothing to him though because he goes back to his demands.

"Eat the bowl of oatmeal and I won't have to give you the shot. Trust me when I say you won't wake up feeling as shitty as you did when you got the shot last time."

As if that makes you want to do it even more, but he's not leaving you with a choice.

You wipe your eyes and reach out for the bowl. He helps you bring the tray over onto the bed where you make the hesitant move to eat the oatmeal. One slow spoonful into the mouth but you can't help the way you cry as you eat it.

Hoseok watches you for a minute before he departs. He heads towards the bathroom where he retrieves a wad of toilet paper. He hands it to you when you eat another spoonful so you can clean your eyes and blow your nose all the while he still has the needle in hand. It's a threat to you and so you go back to eating the oatmeal when you're done cleaning up.

He says nothing as he leaves again to toss out the paper. When he comes back he sits on your side of the bed and waits for you to finish.

You feel so trapped and disgusted right now. Despite the fact that the food is good you eat it tastelessly. It's hard to enjoy yourself when the reality of the things hits you like a truck.

After a few more spoonfuls you place the bowl down.

"Eat more," he says softly.

You shake your head. "Can't." And you're not lying. You're starting to feel sick.

"Fine but if you're not asleep soon you know what's waiting for you."

You hate how he can easily threaten you like this. This isn't love. No matter what he thinks or says.

You glare at him but he doesn't react. Instead he just places your tray onto your nightstand before coming around to eat his food. He also takes the chance to put the needle away in his nightstand drawer.

You're staring down at your lap while he eats. You're not really here right now mentally speaking. It's sad really but this is your new reality. One where you're being isolated completely. At least you had Yoongi before. Hell even Namjoon for a while there but now you have no one. It's just you, Hoseok and this room.

Absent-mindedly your fingers come up to play with the necklace Hoseok had given you. It dances around between your fingers as you wait for the drugs to kick in. You don't think much of it until you start thinking about your conversation with Seokjin at the hospital.

He said it was fate that brought Hoseok to you. For a pessimistic second there you did too but you know that's not what happened. Hoseok found you somehow and you try to think how.

You're so lost in thought that it startles you when you feel his hand on your own.

"Stop," he says softly. "You're going to break it."

He means the necklace as you have it in a death grip.

You release it from your grasp with a sigh and watch as he picks the trays up and takes them out of his room one by one.

Your mind brings you back to your conversation with Seokjin and you can't help yourself in asking Hoseok the question.

"How did you find me?"

He pauses after closing the bedroom door. He stands by it without a word before he walks over to sit by you.

"You know I have my ways," he says.

Your brows furrow in annoyance. "You know Seokjin said it was fate. I call bullshit."

He huffs a laugh. "Maybe it was in some way." Slowly he grows serious as he goes to pick up your lock pendant. "Everything happens for a reason."

You frown at his words not understanding what he means until it slowly dawns upon you.

You go to snatch your necklace but his hand grips your wrist tightly. You wince but you don't let go of the pendant.

"This was a tracker all along," you ask breathlessly. The drugs are starting to kick in.

"To be fair I've only used it once and it was when you ran away."

Fresh tears coat your eyes. "You're a horrible person."

Your grip loosens against your will as you grow more and more tired.

With his help you're slowly lowered onto your back.

"I do what I have to do to protect what we have. I'm not sorry for anything that I've done. I have to ensure that you'll always be with me. No matter what."

His final words blanket you as your eyes slowly draw to a close.

This is it you realize. You're never getting out of here alive.

✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞

In and out. Day in and day out. Your life is a blur with you not understanding if you're coming or going. The only reason why you know what time it is is because Hoseok tells you, but the days? You wouldn't be able to say for the life of you.

Every single day turns into a strick routine. One where he must ensure that you're locked away.

You don't bother asking about Yoongi anymore because you know he won't tell you. Hoseok claims him and his older brother are on better terms and that's that. As for Namjoon? He'd prefer you stay quiet rather than speak the other man's name so you do. You stay quiet.

Pretending to be a "good girl" as he says you are you're allowed your phone back, but your call history and all contacts are deleted. Except for Hoseok's of course. He says you don't need to talk to anyone else but him so you don't. It's not like you have much of a choice.

You don't care to play any games or whatever. Especially since he's still drugging you. He hasn't had to use the needle on you which you're grateful for and not all of your meals consist of only oatmeal anymore. It's a variety of things now but you still need to eat something smooth or drink something very specific that you have to finish in its entirety. With that in mind you already know it's because it's filled with the knock out drug.

You still get his saliva. That's a given. You actually thought he wouldn't as punishment but you guess keeping you chained to the bed and drugged up was enough for him.

Right now you watch as he's back and forth getting things ready for himself. It's Samhain, as he said, and him and his brothers are going to a meet up of many if not all vampires around the world. It's a time of festivities and a chance to talk with the Alliance about what's been going on.

You asked if you could go but he shot that down immediately.

"The Baeks will be there more than likely."

You know he means Hyun-Woo specifically. Your heart doesn't ache for him anymore but in some ways you still miss him. You don't know how he feels about you now but based off of Hoseok's reaction he doesn't want the risk of something kindling between you two after seeing each other after so long.

The two of you are already bathed and dressed. You in your pajamas and him in a green shirt with puffed sleeves and a loose collar. It shows off much of his chest and is adorned with the key he keeps chained around his neck. His black pants hug his legs tightly and if it weren't because of your situation you would admire his body. You always would if it weren't because of everything he's done to you.

Your hate grows strong for him but you keep it to yourself because if you express it he threatens you with the needle. Suffice to say you're not a fan of needles and so you would rather eat the food he gives you so you can sleep.

Speaking of which you've been given the drug and now you're waiting for it to kick in. Your back is pressed against the headboard as you watch Hoseok put things together.

You huff. "What if I have to pee while you're gone?"

He pauses and raises a brow. "Do you need to now?"

"No. I'm saying what if it happens while you're away. Do you expect me to pee on the bed?"

He grabs his knee high boots and takes them to the bed so he can slip them on. "Well you'll be asleep. If you go now you won't have to worry about peeing on yourself. That and I won't be long. I'll be home before you know it."

You roll your eyes in exasperation. "You can't just lock the door and take off the shackle?"

"There are windows," he says as a matter of fact.

Did he think you'd be stupid enough to jump out the window?

That's the thing though. You would be stupid enough to do that.

He stands up from off the bed and turns to you. He slowly makes his way over and caresses your cheek. You're quick to snap your head off to the side and it makes him sigh.

"Do you feel the medicine yet?"

You nod.

You're not lying. You do and so he helps you slowly slide down until your head is rested on your pillow.

"I won't be long, pretty girl. I promise." He kisses the top of your head and watches you until you slowly drift off to sleep.

When you wake up you realize it was prematurely. You still feel tired and oh so groggy.

"Hoseok," you call out but he's nowhere around.

His bedside lamp is on but you don't think it was that that woke you up. It was something else.

The wind from outside is loud and whistles across the night sky. Maybe it was that but then you hear screaming.

Your heart jumps into your throat as you try to sit up but you can't. You're still too weak from the drug.

There's yelling that's accompanied with the screams of fear. You're wondering what's going on and even try to remove the blankets off of you so you can try and stand up but you realize that yet again you can hardly move because of the drug and, of course, because of the shackle.

You whimper as you try and sit up.

You think if you stay quiet no one will know you're in here. You hope Hoseok locked the door. Maybe if it is the yells won't reach you but they eventually do.

The door is swung open and bangs against the wall. It startles you. Even more so when you see a man with a gun directed straight at you.

Your hands come up in fear as the unknown man glares at you but when his eyes roam over your body and he sees the shackle he hesitates.

"What," he asks breathlessly.

You don't know who he is but you know you're afraid.

"Please," you whimper. "Please don't hurt me."

He drops his hand holding the gun to his side. He can see the way you're having a hard time sitting up and slowly approaches you.

"What are those sick leeches doing to you?" His hand comes up to his forehead in worry. "Fuck. Okay. Okay. I'm going to get you out of here. Okay?"

You realize then that he isn't an enemy but someone here to save you.

He approaches the shackle and tugs hard on it. It barely budges but he's still determined to get you out of here. "Do you know where the key is?"

"He took it with him."

The man doesn't need to know who he is exactly. He just knows it's one of the vampires.

He curses under his breath. He looks at his gun and aims it at the chain making you cry out weakly in fear, but before a shot could be fired someone walks in and they are far from someone you would ever expect help from.

You try dragging yourself back against the headboard but you're too weak. Standing before you with a sick smile on her face is Jiyoo herself. You see that she has a silver fang to replace the one she lost when she was last here.

"Well well," she says. "If it isn't my favorite little rabbit."

You begin to cry.

To this she laughs and it makes the man next to you frown in annoyance.

"You said your cousins would be here," he says. "But all that's here are the servants and this girl. Why did you lie?"

Jiyoo gives a mock look of surprise. "Oh did I say they would be here? Huh. I guess I was wrong."

The man grits his teeth and approaches her with his gun raised. "Don't fuck with me, leech. Where are your cousins?"

Baring her teeth Jiyoo glares at the man. "I'd watch who you're aiming that gun to. You know if it weren't for me you little rebels wouldn't have known how to get pass the gates." She smirks. "And don't forget that only I know where your dear wife and son are being held."

This forces the man to hesitate and slowly lower the gun back down. "So now what," he asks. "What do we do?"

Jiyoo smiles sweetly before grabbing the gun. She looks at it for a moment before aiming it at you and shooting. Two shots.

You can barely understand what just happened because of the adrenaline but you felt them hit you in the abdomen. You look down and with a shaky hand you touch where the blood begins to seep through your clothing.

"What the fuck?!" You can hear the man cry out. "She needed help! Why did you shoot her?"

Jiyoo hands him back the gun as she continues to smile. "We came here to do exactly what I wanted." She sneers. "Let her bleed out."

You whimper as more blood begins to pool out of you.

Jiyoo walks out and although hesitant, the man gives you a pitying look before walking out as well.

You gasp as you cry and it hurts. Not just your stomach but your back. Did the bullets go through? You guess so because your shirt sticks to you from behind from the blood.

What do you do? You're going to die if you don't get help. You turn painfully to your side and reach for your phone Hoseok left on your nightstand.

You feel weak and not just because of the drugs.

You cry weakly as you grab the device but it slips from your hand and onto the floor. "Fuck." Tears blind your eyes as you struggle towards the ground where you crumple up, but you realize that if you don't do something you will die.

You landed next to the phone and so you grab it with what little strength you have. You can't unlock it with your finger print because your hand is bloody so you try to type in the password. You get it wrong the first time so you try again but you get it wrong again.

"Please," you cry. "Please, please, please."

On the third try you get it right and click on the contacts.

You could call 911 but you're not sure if they would be able to find you. Hell, you don't even know the address to this place. Maybe they could track the call but you don't want to waste any time so you go to the only one that's left. Hoseok.

You put the phone on speaker and wait until the phone rings. It takes a second before he picks up and he sounds surprised.

"Y/N? You should be asleep."

"Help," you cry out. "Help."

"Baby what's going on? What's wrong?"

You're starting to go in and out. You know he's asking you a question but you're having a hard time staying awake.

You mumble something into the phone and it makes Hoseok panic.

"What? Baby talk to me."

You try again as you whisper "Jiyoo" before passing out but it's enough to make Hoseok move as he yells that he's on his way.

✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞

He's never hated someone as he does right now as he yells for the driver to drive faster.

"Hoseok. He can only go so fast." Seokjin says.

Hoseok glares at the oldest like he dares him to say something more.

Tensions are high as the brothers make their way back to their shared home. They were together when Hoseok got the call and ran after him the moment he bolted. They asked if he was okay but he said you needed help.

"Can you tell us again what she said?" Taehyung asks.

Hoseok huffs in annoyance and it's taking all of him not to scream at the driver again. "She said she needed help but before she went quiet she said Jiyoo." He scratches the back of his head in irritation. What could you have meant by that? Is Jiyoo there with you? How?

Seokjin takes out his phone and begins to dial a number. It takes a minute before it goes to voice-mail. He tries again and waits until a familiar voice picks up the phone.

"Mimi," Seokjin says.

"Lord Seokjin!"

Hoseok and the others can hear the young maid as Seokjin puts her on speaker. She sounds out of breath as she tells someone to grab some extra towels.

"Mimi what's going on over there?"

"Any towels! Just grab any," she yells before talking to Seokjin again. "We called 911. They're on their way."

Seokjin sits up straighter when he hears this. "What do you mean? What's going on?"

She sounds frazzled but she tries her best to explain. "The rebels. They broke into the house. They destroyed a bunch of things."

Hoseok snatches Seokjin's phone to which the oldest growls in annoyance.

"Mimi this is Hoseok. Is Jiyoo there?"

"Thank you," she quietly says before talking to Hoseok. "S-She was. She lead the rebels into the house but she's gone now."

"Do you know how Y/N is?"

There's a slight hesitation on her end but Hoseok says her name in a firm manner.

"The ambulance are on their way. She - She's been shot. She's bleeding out."

A cold feeling takes over Hoseok's body. You've been... shot? What?

Before he can say anything Taehyung yells for the driver to go faster.

"We're already here, my Lord." The driver says and he's right because they turn the corner and reach their block.

Before anyone could stop him Hoseok gives Seokjin back his phone and runs out of the moving car. He can hear his brothers scream his name but he's not worried about them right now.

He trips a little when he steps out but he runs straight for the open gate.

Hoseok has run before. Plenty of times but he thinks this is the fastest he's ever gone.

When he gets inside the house he runs past the help that call to him. He runs past them and the broken vases and pictures that litter the floor now. He barrels through the halls until he reaches his room where he smells all the blood. Your blood.

"Y/N," he cries out. "Y/N no, no, no, no!"

He sees the way Mimi presses towels onto your stomach but he knows it's not enough. Not with the amount of blood you've shed. From the bed to the floor and over everyone's hands. Your lips are turning blue and he can hear the way your heart beat is slowing. It's making him panic.

A minute or so after he hears his brothers run into the room. He can't take his eyes off of you as he just cries but he knows it's Namjoon, Taehyung and Yoongi just by the sounds of their breathing.

The eldest of the four comes around and sees what Hoseok sees. He sees how you've lost too much blood and something needs to be done.

"How long ago did you guys call for her help?"

Mimi shakes her head. "It's been a few minutes. 8-10 minutes at best."

Hoseok closes his eyes as tears pool out of them. He curls up around your head and kisses your forehead and pleads for you to hold on. "Please, please, please," he begs.

He knows if help doesn't come fast enough that you will die. If not in the ambulance then at the hospital. Something has to give. If he doesn't do something now to help you'll...

His eyes snap open and he sits up to look at his brother. "Namjoon! Namjoon you have to help. Only you can change her. Please." He brings his hands together and rubs them. "Please please change her. I'll do anything for you. Just please!"

The other vampire looks taken aback. He's never seen his brother beg before and he sees that it doesn't suit him, but Hoseok is right. Only he can change you.

As punishment he should just let you die. After you sold the two of you out there's been a huge strain in his and Hoseok's relationship. Even more so than Yoongi's and Hoseok's relationship. He managed to forgive the oldest but with him? It's been hard, but now Hoseok is on his knees begging for your life. Begging Namjoon for your life. He hates it but he realizes that he loves Hoseok too much to let you die so he walks over and moves the maids to the side and gets on his knees.

Your blood is everywhere except this one part of your neck. Over your scarred neck he finds a spot and leans in to sink his teeth into you like he's done before, but this time it's for a different reason. With the intent to change you he sinks his teeth into you hard. Even his blunt teeth dig into your flesh and he releases the venom needed to change you. Like a snake it leaks from him and into your system. When he thinks it's enough he pulls back.

Hoseok is quick to take you into his arms once his brother is done. He looks over your still face and prays you'll turn. That they're not too late.

Everyone waits with baited breath and before he knows it your heart stops. The air is still as the vampires listen in to a heart beat that doesn't come back. Hoseok cries as he holds you close.

You couldn't die on him. No you just couldn't. This wasn't how things were supposed to end.

His heart is broken. Shattered completely. The love of his life gone. Just like that.

He draws you in closer to him and rests his forehead against your own.

"Come back," he says. "Please come back."

He distantly hears the noise of the paramedics making their way down the hall. The sound of their walkie talkies going off as their feet carry them over. He hears their hearts beat - a cacophony of them mixed with his brothers and his own. They're so loud in his ears but something is off. There's a new sound. It's light as it slowly begins to pace just the slightest bit faster.

"Hoseok." Taehyung says. He hears it too.

Hoseok pulls back to look at you and he watches the way your eyes stir beneath your lids.

"Her wounds are healing."

Yoongi's words click in Hoseok's head and he checks your neck to see Namjoon's bite is changing into unmarred flesh. He takes the chance to lift up your shirt and sees your bullet wounds are healing as well. He gives off a sound that's a mixture of a cry and a sigh of relief.

"What's going on here?"

He hears a paramedic say but he's more enthralled with the way your eyes open and the deep breath you take.

You're awake. You're alive.

When you look around you you do so in mild fear. Your last memories being Jiyoo and her shooting you. If that's the case how are you alive and oh so hungry?

Your ears are ringing as you see Namjoon talking to the paramedics. When the cops come in with Seokjin in tow. When you look at the maids near you who are crying in what seems to be relief. When you look up towards Hoseok who's crying yet smiles.

"Wha?" You can barely make the word out.

"It's okay." Hoseok says. "Just here. You must be hungry."

He pulls his shirt to the side and you stare at his flesh. There's an ache in your gums that you know you can alleviate by biting down onto something and you do when Hoseok leans further down over you.

Your teeth meet his neck and you bite him and take what you can. Your eyes close as you drink and breathe heavily through your nose.

It doesn't click in your head what it is you're doing until clarity begins to dawn over you. Your eyes open and you retract your teeth before pushing Hoseok away.

"What," you ask. "What's going on?"

Your eyes are glossy as you look at every face staring back at you. Their hearts beating so loud in your ears. You can hear every breath these people take and it's startling you.

"It's okay." Hoseok says. "You're okay."

You shake your head. "Jiyoo-"

"Is being taken care of."

You all look towards Seokjin.

"Apparently some of the rebels stayed behind to confess their crime. Don't know why but they did. But they outed Jiyoo's possible location. So that's being handled."

Hoseok looks back at you and smiles. His eyes are red as is the tip of his nose. He's been crying you note.

You smell blood. All over you. From your wounds, but when you lift your shirt you see nothing.

"I'm confused," you say. Your hands are all over your torso looking for the wounds that are clearly no longer there.

"It's okay." Hoseok grabs your hands. "You're okay."

You shake your head.

No you should be dead. With all of the blood you see here you shouldn't be alive. How did...

You look at Hoseok's neck that's been marred by your teeth. The sounds around you sound like they're being multiplied by one another and your heart. Your nervous but it beats slow.

When the realization that something has been done to you hits you you look at Hoseok with big round eyes.

"What did you do?"

He smiles. "You've been saved.

And now you'll be mine forever."

#bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts fic #yandere bts #yandere bts x reader #hoseok x reader #yandere hoseok #yanderebts #btsfanfic #jung hoseok #hoseok #jhope #reader #fanfic #reader insert

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assortedseaglass · 1 year

Text

The Seamstress & The Sailor - Chapter Fourteen

[Masterlist]

Warnings: Language, Smut, World on Fire spoilers

Word Count: 4.3K

Notes: Angst and horniness, coming right up.

June 1940

No matter how hard he kicked, Tom couldn’t get his legs loose of the damn sheet.

“Calm down, calm down!” Tom had come round to find himself crammed into a corridor lined with other injured men, his shoulder bound with gauze strapped to his chest. The accent of the man shouting at him told him everything he needed to know. Still in bloody France. The man, a doctor judging by the white coat he wore, held Tom’s shoulders and pushed him down. Tom hissed as the touch aggravated his wound.

“Get your dirty, grubby hands off me now!” He kicked his leg and caught the man holding down his legs. “Let go of me and I’ll take my chance!”

“Listen! If you leave now, you will die!”

“Oh, so I just stay here and surrender like you lot?” Tom spat in the man’s face as another doctor and nurse arrived. “Paris has fallen. She just told me,” he indicated to the woman. “And not a shot fired. How’s a bunch of cowards going to keep me safe?”

“Pardon?” The doctor holding his shoulders lunged at Tom, who squared up to him from his position on the bed.

“Jacques,” the nurse grabbed him. “Jacques!”

The doctor at the end of the bed spoke. An American. “Before you say another word about French cowardice, just remember it was a French ambulance crew who rescued you.”

Tom relaxed his shoulders and pushed out his chin. “Christ. You think you rescued me?” His temper was rising. “Thanks to you I’m in a city crawling with Nazis. And where are my clothes?”

“Incinerated.” Said the nurse.

“You fucking what?” He panicked. The only thing keeping him sane was gone.

“I assume you are after this?” Jacques, the doctor, picked something up from Tom’s bedside table. Tom snatched the photograph from his grip and rolled onto his good shoulder, Bess safely tucked beneath his pillow.

“Now piss off and let me die in peace.” His voice was final, and the medics left him. Certain that they were gone, Tom took out Bess’ photograph and traced her face with his finger. The letters were surely gone, and there was no way that he could get one to her while Nazis lurked around every corner. He had to get home, and soon.

✼　　✼　　✼　　✼　　✼　　✼

Distantly, Bess heard the ring of the telephone in the ground floor hallway. Manchester was warming as sun gleamed off the stone buildings and rose into the smog strewn sky. Every door in Carver Mills was open. Other girls’ laughter fluttered through the stairwell and, occasionally, so too did the warble of a record being played. Bess was lounging on her bed, watching white bed linen flutter on the washing line beyond the window. A rare day off and a chance to relax. She was just closing her eyes when Mrs Russo’s voice called up to her.

“Bess! Phone for you, darling.”

No-one ever telephoned Bess. The only people who would were Cora, Dot and Dadda, and they’d have to borrow Mrs Mason’s telephone or else use the phone box on Plymouth Street. Trying to ease her rapidly rising nerves, Bess swung her legs from the bed and hurried barefoot down the cold stone steps. Mrs Russo was stood by the front door, apron on, phone tucked beneath her ear as she dusted the hallway cabinet. She smiled when she saw Bess coming down the stairs.

“Here she is, love,” she said to whoever was on the other end of the phone and passed the receiver to Bess. “Your sister,” she mouthed, before striding into the bright light of the day armed with a mop and can.

Bess held the receiver to her ear. “Hello?”

“Hi honey,” It was Cora, her voice unnaturally bright. “How’s the day off?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.” Cora never called. “What’s happened?” There was a sniffle on the other end of the line and Bess’ heart lurched.

“Oh, Bess,” Cora’s voice wobbled.

“What’s happened?” No reply. “Cora? Is it Dadda?”

“No, it’s not Dadda-” Her voice was small, defeated.

“Oh darling,” realisation dawned on Bess. “Has something happened to Roger? Do you want me to come ho-”

Cora spoke over her. “It’s not Roger.” Her voice was firming up, and before the words left her sister’s mouth, Bess swayed where she stood. This was the sound of someone readying themself to deliver bad news. Having heard their friend’s raised voice, Helen and Joan appeared on the stairs. Bess looked up at them wide-eyed as she waited for Cora to deliver the devastating blow.

“Bess, it’s Tom.”

“What about him?” Bess’ voice was sharp, steel walls rising to avoid any pain.

“Douglas got a telegram this morning. Darling, Tom’s missing.”

The soft flesh of her knees split as she hit the floor, though she didn’t feel it. A hand groped for the receiver, now dangling from its wire, and Bess vaguely saw that it wasn’t hers.

“Hello? Cora? Yes, it’s Helen-”

Bess’ body was pulled sideways and her arms trapped at her sides. Joan had wrapped her arms about her and was holding her tight. Bess lay there silently, pressed into Joan’s chest as Helen spoke lowly into the telephone. A minute later, she joined them on the floor and covered Bess’ body with her own. Joan whispered gently in her ear, though what she was saying, Bess couldn’t tell. When Helen reached out an arm to grip Bess’ hand, it was then that she realised she was shaking. Quaking with paroxysms of despair.

“Come on, little love,” Joan brushed some hair out of Bess’ face. “Let’s get you upstairs.” Together, Helen and Joan hauled Bess to her room, patched up her knees and laid her own the bed.

“Dry your eyes,” Helen passed Bess a tissue. She’d been crying? All Bess knew was that in the time Cora had telephoned, she had seen nothing but Tom. Tom, trapped in a prisoner of war camp. Tom, lost in the wilderness of battle-scarred Europe. Tom, lying unfound in ditch. Tom, in a shallow grave next to the rotting body of her brother.

She stared at her bedroom wall. The light turned from egg-yolk yellow to bitter plum, the only indication that the day had faded into evening. Helen and Joan left few hours ago. Or was in ten minutes? Bess was beyond the world of noticing. When a knock came at the door, she did nothing, only continued to stare at the cold wall and peeling wallpaper.

“Bess, love?” Mrs Russo stood at the door to Bess’ bedroom. “Some post came for you.” When Bess didn’t move, the older woman stepped into the room and placed the letters on the bedside table in front of where she lay. “You’ll catch your death lying here,” Mrs Russo leant over Bess’ lifeless form and shut the window. “Come down later, if you feel up to it. I’ve made soup.” She kissed Bess’ head and left, the click of the door and her retreating footsteps the only sound.

When all was quiet again, Bess sighed. Before the war, she had been content, and that was all a working-class girl from the north of England could hope for. She would never open her own fashion house. Never marry a rich man. Likely never leave Manchester. But Bess did have her work, her family, her pride. She’d heard Dot speak about her fear of never achieving anything. Looking back at her life when she is an old woman and seeing nothing but duty and boredom. When did greatness and notoriety become the measures of a good life? Bess always told her, is it not enough to be joyful and love and be loved? To be content and happy. What now, then, when contentment and happiness had gone from her life? Albie alone in France, buried God knows where. Tom with him, or soon to join him? An older sister who would never know first love without fear. A younger sister whose remaining years of childhood were defiled by war, and a father wounded by grief.

Bess’ eyes drifted the letters Mrs Russo left. Her name was smudged a little, and for a fleeting moment, she thought it was Tom’s handwriting. The address, however, proved her excitement wrong and she stilled. Who was left to write? She took the letter and ripped open the envelope.

“I know what you’re trying to do. Telling me all about your little date in the hopes it will make me jealous. Would it make you smile, love, if I told you it was working?”

Bess dropped the letter like hot coal. She ran to the bedroom door and slammed it shut. Leant against the doorframe, she clutched her heart and felt it hammer against her chest. Even missing, Tom Bennett could still make her weak. Tentatively, as though it would scold to touch it, Bess padded to the bed and picked up the letter once more.

“Does he know you like I do? Does he know that you collected feathers and eggshells when you were small, or that you write secret letters to a criminal like me?”

With every word, her breath quickened and pulse raced.

“Can he read you like I can? That you only smoke as a means to avoid speaking?”

Her mouth went dry.

“That when your eyes darken and those perfect lips of yours part, when you blush and it spreads right across your nose, it means you desperately want fucking?”

Bess’ head hit the pillow.

“It means you desperately want fucking”

Despite her terror. Despite the grief of the day, Bess laughed. He wanted her. Until the moment he went missing, he wanted her. If he was alive, perhaps he still did. She reached for the photograph of Tom, propped against her lamp, and held it behind the letter. The other hand ran down the buttons of her loose shirt and ruched the hem of her skirt. Over the edge of the letter, Tom’s eyes watched her.

“Can he satisfy you like I can, Bess? Are his fingers long? Have they been inside you yet? I know I could do it, Bess, if you’d let me.”

Heat welled between her legs as she pressed a palm against her sex.

“If I try, I can hear you moaning my name. I can feel your cunt against me. If your family hadn’t come home I’d have ravished you, Bess. I’d have fucked you with my mouth, my fingers, my cock.”

Bess’ fingers dipped into the warmth of her folds, and with half-lidded eyes she committed Tom’s photograph to memory.

“Made love to you until your mind could think of nothing but me. Can this James boy do that for you? Can he satisfy you like I could?”

Over and over she read the letter, over and over her nimble fingers worked her arousal undone.

“I’m mad with wanting you, love. I’ll kill any man that gets in my way to you. You’re mine, Bess.”

With a shudder and moan of his name, Bess unravelled to the image of Tom on her tailor’s stand. Tom beating Walter Watson to a pulp. Tom between her legs. Weak from her release, the letter fluttered to the ground and for a few blissful moments Bess forgot her heartache. Tom Bennett still wanted her. She giggled and reached for the letter, desperate to read his words once more. As she leant over the bed, she saw the mess of paper on the ground. Tom’s photograph, his letter, and the second envelope. She must have knocked it to the ground in her haste to be rid of the first.

She froze. It was him. Again. The smudged scrawl. It was definitely him. Abandoning her attempt to retrieve the first letter, Bess once again ripped open the envelope. Would it be a repeat of the first? In a perverse way, she hoped it was.

“Your letters are the best thing that happens to me at sea, but I couldn’t bear being the cause of more pain.”

In direct opposition to his first letter, the second caused Bess’ heart to stop.

“We’re going into something big, Bess, and I’m scared I won’t come back.”

“Oh, Tom.” Bess stood from the bed and hurried her way through the tiny flat.

“If I don’t, know that I think of you every second of every day.”

She opened the door, eyes never leaving the page.

“I’ll spend the rest of my days regretting what I did to you but know this, I adore you.”

Tears were falling now, and she could feel them. Angry, heartbroken, elated, fearful tears.

“Think of me, as I’m forever thinking of you.”

Her feet brought her to a door on the second floor of the boarding house. She knocked twice and brushed some tears form her red cheeks. The door swung open, and Joan stood before her, cigarette in hand and hair in curlers.

“Bess?”

Bess could do nothing but hold up the letter and laugh sadly.

“He adored me.”

✼　　✼　　✼　　✼　　✼　　✼

Tom watched as Webster’s blood funnelled through the tube and into his veins. What with the pain in his shoulder, the city heat and his growing unease at the Nazis walking the halls of the hospital, the sight did nothing to settle his stomach and he looked to the ceiling.

Webster, while admiring Tom’s spirit, was himself growing annoyed at the man’s impatient recklessness. He understood as much as any other his desperation to be away from Paris with the one he loved, but the reality was not as easy as their imaginations would wish.

“What are you going to do with out help?” Webster whispered quietly. “All these men need my help. You’re prisoners of war now.”

“I’ll head for the coast.” Even agitated, Tom seemed a cocksure and certain man. If not for the war, Webster would have liked a drink with Tom Bennett.

“And which way is that, hm?”

Tom paused. “I’ll think of something.”

“Listen,” Webster sat up a little, careful not to disturb the needle in his arm. “I’ve talked to a couple of French guys who are setting up an escape route. They can help you.” Tom’s eyebrows rose and he waited for Webster to continue. “You can go across the Pyrenees into Spain, Spain to Gibraltar then home from there.”

Tom smirked. “I get lost walking home from Belle-Vue, mate.” Exasperated and having reached the end of his capacity to cope with the Mancunian, Webster rested his head against the bedframe with a sigh. “What? You’ve never heard of Belle-Vue? You don’t know what you’re missing.” Bright lights flashed before his eyes and he could see Bess on the carousel, head tipped back with laughter. Tom smiled.

“First, you need to get registered as an injured prisoner of war,” Webster’s voice was hurried, eager to test out his plan.

“Yeah, then what?”

“Then you die.”

Tom looked at Webster flatly. “Well I hate to be picky-” Webster ignored him.

“Once you’re declared dead it makes it easier for you to escape. They won’t be looking for you.”

Tom spotted a flaw in the plan. “Won’t they want to see a corpse?”

“We’ve got no shortages of corpses, buddy.”

“And this’ll work, will it?”

“You’ll know before I do.” Tom stared at Webster, disbelieving. “We’ve never actually tried it before.”

Tom scoffed nervously. “Great.”

“The sooner you leave, the sooner you’ll be reunited with your girl-”

“She’s not my girl anymore.” Tom snapped, and the two watched in silence as the dark blood ran between them.

✼　　✼　　✼　　✼　　✼　　✼

“And Bess, thank you for the clothes. Douglas brought them over on his last visit.”

Despite herself, Bess felt a pang of jealousy. Douglas has clearly made a new friend since her move to the city. She’d have to drop in soon.

“Of course, Albie would’ve been glad to see them go to a good home.”

Robina Chase nodded awkwardly, caught somewhere between giving thanks and condolences. She turned away and began to dress as Bess packed away her tools. Summer meant preparing for autumn fashions. Or, in wartime Britain, autumn tailoring.

The front door opened and shut with a thud, and Robina sighed. “Will you stay for a cup of tea, Bess? What’s one more person, hm?” Bess smiled and followed the woman downstairs, where she saw Harry, Jan and a man that could only be Demba; Mrs Chase had already told Bess all about the Senegalese soldier Harry had brought home.

Harry kissed his mother’s cheek, and then Bess’. “I’m so sorry about Albie, Bess. We’ll miss his face at the dances.”

“And he’d miss the dancing!” Bess smiled to ease the sadness rapidly descending on the entrance hall. “You must be Demba.” She held out a hand to shake the stranger’s. His smile was warm when he shook her hand, and Bess could see why Harry liked him so.

“Pleased to meet you, ma’am.” He said.

“Miss!” Bess teased with mock offence.

“Pardon,” Demba held is hands to his heart and the three of them laughed. Mrs Chase clicked her tongue and hurried away to fetch the tea.

“Hello, Miss Bess,” A little voice said from behind Harry.

“Hello, Master Jan.” Bess held out a hand to him, which he took, and she led him into the sitting room where Robina was setting out the china. He perched himself on an armchair, and Bess took the seat next to Demba. Harry stood somewhat agitatedly behind them and watched as his mother picked up her newspaper.

PARIS HAS FALLEN

The headline was accompanied by an image of the Luftwaffe flying over Paris. Noticing the silence, Robina lowered the newspaper.

“Harry tells me you saved him.” She addressed Demba. He smiled graciously before replying.

“He saved a lot of men.” A true gentleman. Bess smiled before Robina could ruin the moment.

“How very reassuring,” she gave her son a pointed look.

“Like his mother and father perhaps?” Demba seemed unaware of the bump in the conversation. “His courage?”

“Harry’s father had many qualities, but it transpires that courage wasn’t one of them.”

“Can we talk about something else?” Harry’s tone was terse.

Robina bristled and picked up her newspaper. Bess wanted the plush settee to swallow her whole. She took a sip of her tea.

“The Germans didn’t bomb Paris,” Robina’s voice was hopeful. The three young people opposite stared at her. “That surely is a good sign.”

“Of what exactly?” Bess could hear Harry trying to restrain is frustration.

“That when all is said and done, at least they are a civilised people-”

“Je suis désolée,” Demba and Bess turned to look at Harry as he spoke. “Ma mère ne sait pas de quoi elle parle.”

KNOCK KNOCK KOCK

Thank Christ. Bess and Demba relaxed in their seats. Jan saw and giggled. The same could not be said of Robina, who sighed and threw her newspaper on the couch. “Surely this week can’t get any more surprising.” She strode towards the front door. The four left in the sitting room said nothing, and Bess stuck her tongue out at Jan to make him smile.

When Robina returned with Lois Bennett, Harry jolted forwards and, struck by a similar awkwardness to his mother, abruptly stopped whatever motion his body had been about to enact.

“Lois!”

“Bess?”

“Bess has been tailoring some clothes for me.” Lois sat next to Robina, and Harry plonked himself next to Bess, causing her to shuffle sideways into Demba. Silence reigned once more, until little Jan spoke up.

“Is Douglas coming?”

Robina laughed.

“No, sorry. But he sent you this,” Lois leant over her now enormous bump and picked up a package wrapped in brown paper. “It isn’t brand new. It’s the same one Tom had when he was your age.” She locked eyes with Bess, who suddenly found a loose thread on her trousers to fuss with. “Dad says next time you play, you can wear it.” Jan smiled, unaware of Lois and Bess’ sorrow.

“I feel rather as though I’ve arrived late at the theatre and need someone to explain the plot to me.” Robina look to Bess and Demba for agreement.

“I am sorry,” Lois said sincerely. “I had no idea you had so many people here.” She stood up and Harry did the same so suddenly it nearly caused Bess to spill her tea. He was pleading with Lois.

“Lois, wait. I…”

Sensing that she was intruding on familial politics far more complicated than she first assumed to know, Bess jumped from her seat. “Come on Jan, let’s see if Tom’s shirt improves your aim.” The little boy laughed and followed her into the garden, the red football jersey trailing behind him.

“She’s an odd girl, Demba.” Robina said as the four remaining in the house watched Bess and Jan play. “Would be ever so charming if she only sorted her hair and wore rouge. There’s a spinster in the making.”

“Mother, please.”

From the garden, Bess kept one eye on Jan and one on the people in the sitting room. When Demba was the only person left sitting, she ran inside.

“Harry?” She was a little out of breath. “Do you have a camera? I want to get a photo of Jan in his jersey.”

“Just a minute.” Clearly glad of an excuse to leave, Harry left the room. No-one spoke, and Bess saw Robina’s eyes follow the path of Harry’s footsteps on the ceiling above. He returned a minute later with a camera and handed it to Bess. “Keep it,” Robina opened her mouth to protest but Harry silenced her with a look. “I never used it.”

“Thank you,” Bess squeezed his hand and ran back outside.

“Jan!” The boy stopped kicking the football against the wall and looked at her. She held up the camera. “Give us your best pose.” The little boy placed his arms against his hips and foot atop the ball. Bess laughed and clicked the camera. “Very good!”

Lois put her head into the garden. “Harry is taking me home, Bess. Do you want a lift?”

“No, you’re alright, I’m going to stay with Jan for a bit.” She beamed at the boy and he smiled back, thinking of his older sister as he did. “And if you need help, when the time comes,” Bess nodded to Lois’ bump. “You let me know.”

“Thanks, love.” Bess and Jan watched as she retreated into the house.

“Right then, young man,” Bess clapped the little boy on the shoulder. “Show us what you’ve got.” She ran into the makeshift goal and Jan lined up the football.

✼　　✼　　✼　　✼　　✼　　✼

That night, after her dinner with Mrs Russo and the other girls, Bess made her way to her room. Switching on the wireless, she tuned it to some music and covered her windows with the blackouts. From her bedside table, she retrieved the stack of Tom’s letters she had gathered over the nine months since the war began. All but one, which she left tucked beneath her pillow. Rereading it had become a common occurrence in her night-time routine. And morning routine, come to think of it.

Sat at the kitchen table, under the soft lamplight, Bess twiddled a pen between her fingers as she read over his last letter.

“I adore you.”

Tom was right, he knew her better than anyone. All those years of stolen conversations and silent glances. And just as Bess had found her voice, found herself opening her heart to him in her letters he was gone. Tom might never come back, but Bess wasn’t ready to let go of him yet. Contentment and love could still be hers if she tried.

Retrieving a leaf of paper, Bess unscrewed the cap of her pen and began to write.

Tom,

Your letter arrived the same day I found out you are missing, and you broke my heart for the third time. Your letters could never hurt me, and I only wish I could look forward to more.

She stopped to hastily wipe away a tear. Looking at Tom’s letter, she answered each of his admission in turn.

If I never see you again, I hope you are resting now in the knowledge that I too, think of you every single day and will never stop.

If, by some miracle, you come back home to us, know that I will spend the rest of my life regretting the night we fought and that day at the train station. I’ll never stop telling you how much I adore you.

Dream of me, wherever you are, as I am forever dreaming of you.

Yours, as I always have been,

Bess.

She placed the sheet of paper in an envelope, writing Tom’s name and date on the fore. With nowhere to send it, nowhere to send her love, Bess rested her head against the table and wept.

Notes: Jan and Demba deserve the world! I changed the order of some of the TV scenes just to make it flow a little better. We’re with Tom more for the next chapter, which will probably be up sometime mid-next week as I’m heading home for a hen do. Will try to get some writing done on the dismally long journey. Want to really get inside his head and his feelings!

Tags: @aemonds-wifey @multiple-fandoms-girl @jessssica1234 @babyblue711 '@exitpursuedbyavulcan @myfandomprompts @anditsmywholeheart @allthefandomtherapy @valerie977 @bookwyrmsblog @phantomontheinternet @chainsawsangel @greenowlfactif @thelittleswanao3 @yentroucnagol @beiigegalx @skikikikiikhhjuuh @just-emmaaaa @mefools @aquakaris @its-actually-minicika @whoknows333 @arcielee @honeymaltgelato @girlwith-thepearlearring

#ewan mitchell #tom bennett #tom bennett x ofc #ewan mitchell x reader #world on fire #the seamstress & the sailor

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thevoidscreams · 8 months

Note

Hello 🌺 How are you? I hope you are doing well✨ I'm not sure that you can write requests so often. But I dreamed about this plot and have been spinning in my head for a couple of days😅 I need to share this with someone)) Sanguinius / reader (not officially married, but live as spouses). As soon as peace negotiations were held on the entry of a rich and developed planet into the Imperium, everything went smoothly and the government surrendered quickly. Thus, Sanguinius and his Astartes did not have to show their tough fighting side. Everyone on the planet considers him a peaceful, calm person with a beautiful appearance. So it is with his legion. And so, while the last negotiations were taking place, the reader (she constantly accompanies the primarch on his campaigns when the fighting remains on the flagship with trusted bodyguards) is walking with several Astartes through the water gardens when she is attacked by a group of dissenting rebels. Although they are quickly disarmed, they manage to injure the reader. How would Sanguinius react and what did he do? Maybe he fell into the Black Fury? And let him, as a result, be very worried about what the reader now thinks of him. But she will say that in anger he looks even hotter and sexier than usual)))

I like this idea :3 I kinda diverted a bit, though. Sorry.

Also, I'm sorry they keep taking so long.

TWs: Gore, blood and death. (You live though bby don't worry 😘)

It was like the stories of old. The fall of the mightiest angel of God.

His wings blotted out the sun as you feebly looked up from the blood-stained water of the cute fish pond you'd been admiring, not even five minutes before.

Your blood flowed from a gash across your chest and over the opulent white marble and mingled with the blood of the rebels as your guards cut them down.

Your smile was one of shock, and your head felt light with blood loss. He was coming to save you. He didn't draw his sword to fight, and you were certain, in your heart, that he would scoop you up and fly you away to safety. But he didn't, and you became entirely aware of the horrors before you as you saw the love of your life land in the fray, rending tiny human forms to bloody piles of meat and sinew and bones by hand. Steaming, stinking offal was scattered over stone and foliage as he ripped his way through terrified men and women. His eyes black as pitch and his pristine white feathers that had been so clean and perfectly preened through all the peace talks were now stained a violently bright crimson. He opened his mouth, and your whole body rang as he roared in furious hatred.

Now you understood why he'd never let you see him after a fight. Why you always had to wait for him to wash and clean his armor after taking the field of battle.

But what you weren't prepared for was the sheer animalistic nature of the man you loved. As he tore the upper half of a man away and poured the blood into his mouth, squeezing the body to paste to get even more of the coppery liquid.

A shakey hand raised up as your fingers slid over the gapping wound in your chest, and your stomach turned.

There was so much violence around you that you figured you'd gotten lost in the uproar. But those pitch black eyes found you, bleeding and alone by the water side. His face softened, and something like sanity returned to his face, then guilt and terror and panic. He stole towards you, his arms reaching out for you. You felt a pang of fear lance your racing heart, as you tried to push yourself up your shoulder was caught by the heavy boot of a fleeing rebel and your body slid over the edge of the pond.

It was deeper than you thought it'd be, the pond that is. It was at least ten feet in the little divet your body settled in. It was oddly quiet, too. The sound of bolters was muffled by the deep layer of water, and the pressure made your ears pop. Bubbles flowed up from your lips and rose happily towards the surface. But they were broken apart by a massive golden gauntlet. The gauntlet became an arm and then a shoulder and then the rest of the primarch as he came in after you.

The fresh crimson was diluted in the water as he scooped up your small delicate form and hauled you out from under the surface with ease.

"Darling?!" He called down to you. Your eyes glazed and unfocused. You must have looked like a drowned rat in his arms. The last thing you remember as the world went dark around you was the look of shock and pain in his eyes as he shook you gingerly and called your name. Then, nothing but fragments of hectic scattered dreams and dark eyes and crimson stained lips.

The medical wing was never a comfortable temperature, and the beds were always a bit too hard for your liking. So it surprised you to wake up in a comfortable bed in a comfortable room. It was dim, and your eyes were blurry, so your surroundings were a bit hard to make out.

You were dry and in a fresh medical gown. The gash in your chest was sore, and the stitches were still fresh.

As you got up, you realized you were tied to several machines that read out your condition. Heart rate, blood pressure, and other things you weren't sure what they were.

With a tug, you pulled the sticky pads from your arms and unlocked the finger monitor. The beeping became a quiet alarm as the rate on the monitor dropped to zero, and you giggled as you watched the line go flat.

Just as you were about to turn to look for someone to ask about the events prior to you waking up here, the door burst open. Sanguinius stood in the doorway, his wings puffed up with panic as he surveyed the room, which you were just realizing was yours and his.

His ruffled wings calmed as he made his way around the bed and scooped you up into loving and gentle arms.

"Please, don't do that again." He kissed the top of your head as he returned you to the mattress and pulled the blankets up over you.

"What happened?" You asked, Sanguinius looked a bit uneasy at the question and took a deep breath.

"You were attacked by a group of insurgents who were unhappy about the union of their planet and its government and the imperium." He watched you carefully as he gave his answer and then you asked another question. One that made his hearts drop.

"And what about you? What happened to you down there? I've never seen you like that before."

Sanguinius looked ashamed, like he'd been caught in the act, doing something indecent. He sat on the edge of the bed, and his head hung low, wings similarly drooping.

"I... " He wasn't sure how to begin, but he knew he could no longer keep it from you. His beloved one, his own angel. His light.

"I lost control, I fell to my rage. After I heard over the vox that you'd been attacked... that you'd been hurt. I fell to the darkness inside me, and I let it guide my actions." He breathing quickened. And he turned to look at you, his eyes sincere and brimming with tears. "I would never hurt you. I promise, my rage could never be for you, I love you, and I would die before I lost control like that around you ever again. I promise you are safe." He assured. Sanguinius seemed almost desperate for you to believe him, as though your belief would make it true.

"I believe you, Sangy. I love you too." You got out from under the blankets again to go to him. Crawling onto his lap and pulling his arms around you. "Thank you for coming to save me."

The angel seemed surprised and then very, very happy. "Of course darling. I would never leave you for dead."

"I know you wouldn't." You assured him and took his large hand into yours. "If I'm being honest... I kinda liked it." You admitted quietly.

Sanguinius face twisted to an expression somewhere between horror and revulsion. "What could you possibly mean by that?" The primarch asked, his voice still gentle despite his sudden sinking, disgusted feelings. How could you have enjoyed a display like the one in the gardens?

"You were angry; angry because I got hurt. You loved me enough to tear the gardens apart to save me. I liked that you love me enough to feel that kind of anger. It proves to me that you really do view me as more than just another base line human." Your cheeks felt warm as Sanguinius hugged you even closer.

"Well of course, but I would have thought that would be evident by all the other things we do together."

He kissed your cheek, then moved down to your throat and kissed it too.

You sighed happily and shivered with pleasure. You still couldn't help but feel a certain sort of heat as you pictured his angered form descending from above to destroy his enemies and protect you.

"There's also a certain kind of beauty to your rage. A dark beauty that feels forbidden. And the danger of it is alluring."

"You're playing with fire here." He whispered against your tender neck. Feeling his fangs score your skin, you shivered again, half in fear and desire.

He laid you back but stopped suddenly as he heard you hiss in pain.

"Darling?"

"Just the wound." You admitted sheepishly.

"Ah, of course. I am sorry for my thoughtless behavior, I should not be getting riled up when you are this injured. Forgive me." He placed you down so softly, so sweetly, you could have never been mad.

"All is forgiven, although you didn't need my forgiveness." You kissed him, and he felt that bone deep need to care for and protect you. His most precious one.

Sanguinius stayed until you were asleep again, leaving you with a soft kiss on the forehead.

"I will be back soon my dove."

The planet's leaders had been truly contrite about the garden incident. Handing over all of the surviving rebels to be dealt with as part of their deal to keep peace. Sanguinius had demanded it, demanded justice be left to him to deliver. They'd agreed, not wanting to anger this angel of death.

Sanguinius made his way down to the Red Tear's brigg, his anger growing as he went. He'd have his justice for you himself now that he knew you'd live. He'd not even let himself consider the other side. Losing you. And his heart was ever so lighter for not losing you.

But still, that darkness roiled under the surface, the need to punish them for trying to kill you growing with each step.

By the time he'd made it to the cells holding them, he'd made up his mind. For your sake, he would be just... and make it quick.

#warhammer 40k #warhammer #40k #fanfiction #primarchs #primarch #primarch x reader #sanguinius x reader #sanguinius #my writing #he bout to kill them bitches #he really does love you

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itty-bitty-sunshine · 7 months

Text

( "Immoral Immortality" — 1K words )

Immortal au writing made by my sweetheart @sukis-artchive based off this comic while we were chatting on discord

⚠️ Warning for violence and blood

—

It started off like any other night. Perkeo preferred the night shift. It was dimmer, quieter, and over all just less to handle. Well...

"Goodnight Pear..."

Moon's voice came from behind them, though thus wasn't the first and far from the last. Perkeo didn't jump at the sound or the menacing words. They quite liked the nickname 'pear', and as for 'goodnight' it wasn't meant to sound like a threat. Merely Moon greeting them, as he couldn't say "good day".

"Hey Moon"

Perkeo sounded happy, yet looked a little tired.

"How have you been?"

Moon had been doing well lately, (Perkeo knew this) but that didn't nothing to ease their mind.

"G-g...g-Gh-ooooD-"

His voice box glitches out. Perkeo refrains from sighing. They knew this would happen eventually, but the short peace with Moon doing well felt good. Too good. They were so close to fixing him. If only he could have held out a little longer. Moon isn't to blame though, he doesn't know.

And so Perkeo repeats the process they made, down to a tea. They learned how to buy the most time by doing this over, and over, and over again. Funny how similar that was to their 'life'. They always had a 2nd... or 87th chance to try again. Maybe get better results.

"Moon?"

They ask hesitantly, as always.

"Are you alright?

They learned not panicking at his silence results in less of a mess.

His pupils turn to red pinpricks, Perkeo isn't surprised, yet their heartrate still spikes. Some things never change.

A bead of sweat starts to form on their cheek, they know what's to come.

Moon reaches out to caress their face. Perkeo has learnt to accept fate.

...

"...Moon?-"

"Moon?"

"...Moon?"

"Moon!" Moon snaps their attention to Perkeo.

"Are you even listenin' to me? Geez." they hold a tablet, bangs barely cover what appears to be a small bandage.

"Sorry, Starlight, my mind was over the moon..." He looks around, getting his bearings, trying to remember what was happening... before that.

"Uh-huh"

The noise pulls him out of his thoughts, he doesn't even know what "that" was. Unable to recall it properly. Strange.

"So what were you saying?" He feels bad ignoring his friend, even if it was accidentally. What's wrong with you?

"I said we're done, you doofus, now go charge because we have a long day tomorrow... I'll close everything."

'All done'? Ohhh it must have been maintenance of his software, that's what the tablet was for. And it explains his forgetfulness, he was always like this after 'check ups'. But he trusts Perkeo.

He gets up off the desk, and reaches to grab them. "I'll leave it to you, then~ nighty night, friend. Sleep well."

He mutters a 'see you tomorrow' under his breath, as they bonk heads. His hand gently holding the sides of their face, fingers threading through their fluffy hair. He doesn't register their rigid posture. Or the slight tremor that courses through their whole body. Not even the small frown gracing their lips.

He walks off to charge, just as they had said.

Perkeo sighs, placing the tablet down. They had held the screen cautiously out of view from Moon the entire time. And start to utter Sun's cleanup chant "Clean up, Clean up".

They had luckily knew thought ahead to leave out the disinfectant. They had never been so grateful that the DCA cannot enter behind the desk, as they look down. Even through the curls falling into their eyes, they can see the crimson smear on the side of the furniture.

Their smear.

A bloody handprint slid across the hard surface.

Perkeo shivered as they walked around the desk. Trying not to look at the red mark. It was so painfully obvious among the bright colours of the daycare. The smell of iron becomes stronger as they get closer. Their stomach twists uncomfortably at the scent.

They reach for the disinfectant, grabbing it as a shudder runs through their body. They ignore it and get back to work. Hmmm, they'd get used to it, eventually.

Grabbing a small cloth, they dab it with disinfectant and get to work. Nose scrunching, they slowly build up the courage to touch the blood. Why is this so hard?

not like it's the first time.

Suddenly the feeling of sickness overwhelms them. They crumple a bit. The sight of their hand lining up perfectly with the print made them gag. It wasn't a pleasant sight, they forgot this would happen.

Memories flash back to them. Of all the other times they made the mistake of touching the handprint like this, instead of wiping it clean immediately.

Then, just like every other time, the other Memories come back.

Well if you can even call them that. 'Memories' sounds happy. Perkeo knew that the connotations don't mean anything though. They've been through too much, and learned that the bad experiences are also 'memories' in a sense.

Their body spasms, as their chest rocks with sobs. They'd never get used to extreme pain. Not even with how many 'deaths' they experienced.

It hurt so bad.

—

Their eyes were swollen and puffy with streaks from their crying. They learned that the only way to live longer was to not fight it. It would toy with them as much as possible, before going for the kill.

It tore into Perkeo like a feast, slicing them with sharp claws. They had been oh so gentle before, Perkeo may never get used to the change.

They didn't want to give it the satisfaction of a scream. It would only make it hurt more then. Perkeo remembers that.

They let it mutilate them. It scratches them, punctures them, drags them by their wounds and hair, pulls them apart. But this was a friend, Perkeo knew it was worth it. It'll all be over soon.

They find some comfort in that, feeling empty otherwise. The small voice of preservation that they thought they long since killed was barely a whisper.

...no....run...

Huh, now that's a surprise. Perkeo thinks, too late. The voice was warning them. Their body even knew what was to come at this point. Oh the irony, the vessel who puts them through this wanting the pain to stop. The only reason Perkeo sticks around here is because of their immortality. If it wasn't for their body, Perkeo wouldn't need to die.

Nothing, not Perkeos experience, nor all the past pain inflicted upon them, could prepare them for what's to come. Perkeo always blocked out this part, it's happened before.

They let out a single cut off screech. Their vocal chords still not fully healed from the last time.

As Moon forces his hand into their socket, violently ripping out their eye.

Blood splatters everywhere, the eyeball bursting in his grip. Perkeo crumbles to the ground.

...should have listened.

The little voice chimed, as Perkeo finally backs away from Moon, for the first time that night. Bad idea, and Perkeo knew it.

Though their immortal side has given them an aloof disposition and immeasurable tolerance. Instinct always found a way to persist.

They knew backing away would make it worse, but it hurt too much now for them to do anything else. They knew this would lead to it ending quicker.

Moon grabs them, claws digging into their flesh. They manage to make it behind the desk, his fingers raking through their skin before losing its grip. They try to pull themselves up, bloodied hands smearing the desk as they use it to push themselves up. They grab the tablet and force a shut down.

Hmmm, this is one of the first times they didn't die...

It takes them hours to fix up themselves and clean the mess, but when they finally do dread starts to well up again. Moon was shut down, but absolutely covered in Perkeos blood. Atleast this time Perkeo remembered to not leave any handprints on Moon. It made this so much harder to clean.

The dread still doesn't subside when they finish, as they pick up the tablet. Connecting it to Moon, they replay the footage. Watching their torture always made it worse.

Deleting the files, they reboot him.

They sigh.

"Hopefully this time we can last a little longer."

#after a few times im sure they'd turn numb to it #there are more important things to care about than the blood on silicone #out of everything what hurts the most is that it wears their friend's face #Suki you're the absolute greatest kissing you kissing you kissing you #immortal au #immortal au writing #dca au #fnaf moon #oc #fnaf y/n #cw blood #cw violence #✨️: suki writing

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steddiebang · 7 months

Text

death. (pull up to the second window, please)

Author: @acidicbarkbeast l Artist: @kaspurrcat l Artist: @astradews Posting on Saturday, November 25

The fight has been won, and the war is over, but not without its casualties. While Eddie wakes from his coma, he is devastated to find that Steve has, inexplicably, not been so lucky. With doctors at a loss, El recruits Eddie, Robin, and Dustin, to delve into Steve’s sleeping mind, and find what has its claws sunk into their friend and babysitter. What they discover is the bloody mess of Steve’s various past lives— and deaths. The group must not only find the real Steve, but also convince him of his reality; one where Vecna is dead, and where they can finally have some peace.

Keep reading for a sneak preview!

CW; implied suicide, mentions of injury, mentions of death

“Someone’s here already.” Dustin said, pointing. At the shoreline, there was the silhouette of a fellow sitting on a rock, though the dying sun cast them in shadow, “You didn’t accidentally bring anyone else in, did you? I mean, could you?”

El shook her head, eyeing the back of the stranger curiously.

“Do you think it’s some malicious entity?” Robin asked, holding onto Eddie’s arm, “Like an evil spirit? Maybe Steve’s being haunted.”

“No.” The girl tilted her head, calculating. She crept slowly toward the still figure, and the others seemed to hold their breath in anticipation. A few steps behind, they trailed her, shoes rolling over rocks and small pebbles. The person didn’t react to their presence at all, as much as they were making their presence known.

From his distance, Eddie could tell they were wet, as if having been in the water, though they sat perfectly still now. It was only a bit disconcerting, but where supergirls walked, he would trust to follow.

“Steve?” El asked, and all but the boy in question perked up at the name.

Everything clicked suddenly; those broad shoulders, the rumpled camo jacket, the burning red of a dirtied scar looping around his neck. His hair, usually well-tousled and gravity-defying, was flat and plastered to his forehead. He didn’t move.

Eddie looked past an unresponsive Steve, out over the quarry. In the distant middle of the water, protruded some metal arm, and from that, bellowed mouthfuls of opaque exhaust. The smokey plume rose till it dissipated clear into the painted clouds. Eddie could smell it; long put-out, burning fuel. What had happened here?

“Steve.” Dustin tried, and then Robin too. There was another bloated moment of worrying silence, until Steve breathed a quiet sigh, and seemed to come back into himself, like a spirit possessing a body. Still, he said nothing. Eddie walked around the group, placing himself between the water’s bank and Steve’s empty gaze.

“Harrington?” He prompted, and Steve’s wide eyes snapped to him, bright and yet not, like weak sunlight through morning fog.

Eddie inhaled sharply at the fragile state of the younger, cracked like dropped porcelain. One side of his face was bruised a sickly myriad of blues and lilacs, dark splotches where the vessels beneath had burst. A belt of shining stars, pin-pricks of sharded glass, had embedded themselves into the damaged skin, where thin trails of blood trickled down Steve’s jaw and dripped onto his clothes.

“Eddie…?” Steve wondered, squinting as much as he was able. A spider web of blown veins washed the eye on his bad side a pale red, lids puffy and purple. That eye was duller than the other, half-way swollen, and seemed to track him lazily. He chuckled airily, “I must really be losing it.”

“‘Evie?” Robin pleaded, a wobble to her voice, “What happened?”

Looking down at his hands, Steve’s fingers spasmed. He clenched them into trembling fists, and instinctively began running his thumbs over his smallest knuckles. Still looking away, only mildly delirious, he mumbled, “I thought it would work. I thought it would hold— It was supposed to.” He shook his head forcefully, “I had no choice. ‘Always the idiot.”

Eddie took the liberty to walk to his other side, where he could closer see the punch of dried blood matted into his hair. He couldn’t make any sense of things. Why were they at the quarry of all places? Why was Steve all beat up? Did he get into an accident?

El stepped forward, frame strong and face unmoored. It wasn’t out of stoicness, but of compassioned knowing, understanding that the sooner they completed their duty, the sooner they could comfort Steve in the waking world. She said, “We are here to save you. You are dreaming. You need to come with us, and wake up.”

He turned to her fully, raising his head from his slumped shoulders. The setting sun sparkled across the beads of glass knitted into his cheek. It was almost ethereal, “Dreaming…?” He breathed, looking sad, “I can’t wake up. I’m dead.”