#and then he steals their money in the end with roman yknow | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

seungcheolsbodyharness · 4 years

Text

warnings: theft, breaking and entering, religious undertones, demons, bodily manipulation, kidnapping

wc: 4.5 k

when you look throughout history, you can easily see how greed - for power, for money, for control - has lead to countless downfalls. the romans, the ottomans, napoleon, thousands of names attached to the idea that eventually, taking too much and hoarding it for yourself will eventually bring about an end.

especially when you take that which you were never meant to have.

they say those who don’t learn from history are bound to repeat it.

you like to consider yourself a fairly average person. you have a good job, you have good friends, an apartment that’s a little smaller than you’d like but is all yours, and every now and then you like to do something new. something fun.

even if your friends tell you that what you consider fun is what they consider boring, but it doesn’t matter much to you. you enjoy yourself, even if you’re still staying inside your comfort zone. you try to reason that eating somewhere new and taking cooking classes are fun, laughing goodnaturedly when they roll their eyes.

“you should try something really new.” they’ll tell you. “something you’ve never done before.”

you were surprised when a coworker had asked you to go speed-dating with her. not unpleasantly, of course, but surprised nonetheless. it was just the sort of thing your friends would push you to do, and you’ve never considered yourself to be shy, so you agree.

which is how you find yourself sitting in a crowded restaurant, sitting in a long line at a long table, and across from a similarly long line of men. men you don’t know, have never met before, and will only speak to for maybe five minutes before your time together ends and they move on to the next person.

all the men you’ve met so far have been nice enough - save for a few who most certainly were not - but definitely not the type of guys you’d be interested in dating. which is fine, you’re here to have fun and meet people more than find a new boyfriend.

that’s how you feel, at least, until the buzzer sounds and the last man of the night slides into the chair across from you. he’s tall and slim, black hair short, his face youthful in a way that makes you wonder if he’s even old enough to be in this bar, and when he smiles at you he reminds you a little bit of that one emoji.

“hi!” he says, “my name is hansol.” he scratches at a spot behind his ear, nodding attentively when you tell him your name. “have you had any fun with this? this isn’t really my kind of thing, but my boss thought it’d be good for me to branch out, so...here i am.” he ends with a laugh and you can’t help but laugh with him, it’s so infectious.

“yeah,” you agree, “a coworker asked me to come with her and then she ended up getting crazy sick, but i was already here so i figured why not, yknow?” hansol nods and takes a sip of his beer and you take the chance to ask if he’s even old enough for that, smile teasing.

he laughs. “i’m thousands of years old, thank you very much.” you laugh loudly at that, nearly doubling over onto the table.

“oh, oh man i’m sorry,” you say, breathless. “honestly, i’m really here because my friends think i’m boring.”

“no,” hansol has the decency to sound shocked. “i mean, we’ve only just met but you don’t seem boring at all. and what kind of friends are they to say that anyway?”

“it’s fine, i know they don’t really mean it.” you wave your hand, almost to wave away the idea that your friends would say something like that in an attempt to be malicious. “but they’re kind of right. i pride myself on doing new things, but even the new things are always kind of safe. i’ve just...always done the safe thing, i guess.”

“well, if you want.” hansol hands you the small, laminated menu the waitress had set down before anyone had arrived. “you should take this.”

you snort at the suggestion, turning the menu over in your hand. “and what will that do, exactly?”

“taking things you’re not supposed to is exciting, isn’t it?” he offers, shoving his own menu into his coat pocket. “i have a...collection of things i definitely shouldn’t have.” he whispers, smile wide.

you raise an eyebrow at him. “what are you, a klepto?”

he chuckles. “i prefer to think of myself as...a collector of priceless items.”

you roll your eyes. “priceless as in you haven’t paid for them.”

“yes, exactly.” he smirks, shrugging his shoulders. “maybe you should come out with me one day. see how exciting it can be.”

you narrow your eyes at him. “are you inviting me on a date to watch you steal?”

he shrugs again. “only if you’d like. i could teach you to dine and dash, too, but i’m not as big on that as my one friend. and man, can he eat. i prefer the tangible stuff.”

you tell yourself it’s a terrible idea. scream it internally, really.

it doesn’t keep you from giving him your number after the final buzzer sounds, and telling him to call.

there’s a bit of a glint in his eyes when he tells you he will.

the call comes a few weeks later, when hansol asks you to meet him at a coffee shop across the street from a shopping mall.

“hey there.” he greets you, smile lopsided and nearly a smirk as he waves to you from a table near the back. “i wasn’t sure you were gonna show up.”

you shrug and join him, taking a sip from the latte you’d ordered. “so….what’s on your not-shopping list today?”

he laughs. “nothing too big. i would hate for you to get too nervous and make a mistake, you know.”

you raise an eyebrow. “see, hansol, i’m just here to watch. that's what we agreed upon. i'm not planning on doing any...shopping.”

hansol hums and his eyes roll back, thoughtful. “i guess i did say that, huh? fine. but once this is over you'll wish you'd made a grab too.” he finishes his coffee and stands. “shall we?”

you shrug and look at him with what you hope is nonchalance, but truthfully your heart begins to pick up speed as you follow him through the shop and out the door, coffee cup clutched almost too tightly in your hands.

you hope it's not too obvious when they start to shake, but hansol must notice because he smiles at you softly and takes one of your hands in his. he squeezes gently as you walk across the parking lot and into the food court, thumb running over the back of your hand as he walks up to the directory.

“what, you didn't already have a place in min?” you ask, but he ignores you in favor of continuing to scan over the map before pulling you in the direction of a crowded department store.

“so.” he asks, “you like diamonds?”

you stop moving immediately and stare at him in shock. he doesn't look back until he feels the resistance via the hand he still held.

“what?” he looks bored and slightly irritated. “not everyone likes diamonds. maybe you're more into amethyst, pearls, rubies even. that's why i'm asking.”

“i don't want anything. especially nothing gaudy and….” you lean towards him and whisper, “conspicuous.”

he rolls his eyes and smiles. “another time then. come on.” he tugs you forward and towards a line of scarves, gloves, purses.

a woman approaches, no doubt to ask if you're in need of any help, but hansol fixes her with a glare that sends her scurrying off in another direction. you think you see his eyes go black, but you chalk it up to the nerves eating away at your stomach.

“hansol.” you whisper, “i don’t think i want to do this anymore.”

he looks at you from the corner of his eye, brows raised. “too much excitement for you already? maybe we should start somewhere else.” he scans the store quickly and nods. “yeah, nothing i really want here anyway. come on.” he leads you in the direction from which you came, back out into the hallway of the mall itself.

“you hungry? some food will probably settle your stomach.”

you narrow your eyes at him and pout. “i never said anything about my stomach.”

hansol rolls his eyes. “your hands are shaking, and you’re obviously nervous, and nerves tend to be bad for the stomach. let’s go eat something.”

you sigh and let him lead you back towards the food court. you settle on pizza, and sit together in one of the tables surrounded by a wall of plastic plants. “can i ask you something?”

hansol nods, mouth full of food, and gestures for you to go ahead.

“why do you like to steal?” it’s something that’s been on your mind since you met him, nagging at the back corners of your brain as you tried and tried to come up with a reason for him to be so interested in having things he shouldn’t have. “i’ve been trying to understand but i just...can’t.”

hansol swallows and takes a sip from his drink, leaning back in his chair. “i just like it. it’s fun.”

“it’s fun.” you try to put as much bored disbelief into your tone as possible. “i find that hard to believe. i’m nearly having an anxiety attack just thinking about it.”

he giggles. “that’s because you’ve never done it. if you’d just let me help you, you’ll see how fun it is. how good it feels. it’s like the best damn high you’ve ever had.”

“i...i’ve never been high.” you tell him, slice of pizza raised to your mouth.

he smiles. “then i think this is exactly what you need.”

you swallow, the food in your mouth feeling like nothing more than a hard lump in your throat. “i - i don’t know…”

“something small, easy, i promise.” he takes your hands in his and looks directly into your eyes and you feel your nerves melt away. “i won’t let anything happen to you. you see, i never get caught. and i don’t intend to start now.”

slowly, dumbly, you nod. it seems easier to just listen to him, you think. you finish your food and you find that he was right, it really did make your stomach feel better. “okay.” you tell him. “i think i’m ready.” his smile is wide and bright as you continue, “but it has to be small. very, very small.”

he nods. “of course. i have the perfect thing in mind.”

hansol takes you across the mall to the craft store. “there’s plenty of teeny, tiny things in here that no one will notice have gone missing.” he says quietly, leading you down an aisle of yarns. “at least until they do inventory.”

you frown up at him, not pleased by his joke, and continue down the aisle without him, eyes scanning for something small, but also loose - something out of a bin, nothing packaged, but also nothing that was out in view of everything else. you had enough common sense to realize that without hansol’s advice.

then you spot it.

at the end of the aisle, there’s a bin full of small foam animals - really small, smaller than even the palm of your hand. easily shoved into a coat pocket or purse. you let the sleeve of your sweater fall down over your hand and hover your sleeve-covered hand over the toys, gripping just enough to grab one as your hand finishes its skim over the top. you bring your hand back to your side, the tiny toy nestled safely in your clenched fist, then slipped quickly into your purse. you scratch the barcode sticker from the tummy of the toy and stick it to the back of a display.

you slowly make your way back to hansol, who’s looking at a row of paint brushes that cost more than you’d have thought reasonable, but that didn’t matter.

“hansol, i - i don’t want to do this. let’s just leave.” you fiddle with your hands and don’t meet his eyes, so you hear him sigh, and can almost feel his eyes rolling.

“alright, let’s go.” you look up at him through your eyelashes, and he gives you a small smile. “don’t worry about it. it’s cool.”

you feel your heart pounding in your chest as you approach the exit, hands trembling where they hide in your sleeves, but you keep your face stoic and even as you step through the security measures just before the doors.

nothing happens.

you walk back to your car with hansol, and you lean against the hood, watching him pace. he’s clearly a little disappointed, probably having hoped to get more done this afternoon. “i’m sorry, hansol.”

he opens his mouth to tell you once again that it’s fine, but you hold up a hand to stop him.

“what i mean is i’m sorry this is all i could get.” you reach into your purse and pull out the toy, a tiny foam whale nestled in your palm. a smile spreads wide across your face, and your heart is beating no longer with fear but excitement.

hansol looks down at the toy in your hand and smirks. “you played me pretty good, huh?”

your smile grows and your hands shake as you speak. “yeah, yeah i did, huh? oh, oh man it was like - like my heart, yknow, it was beating so hard, and i couldn’t stop thinking about what might happen, but then i just did it, yknow, and i peeled the sticker off and - and i stuck it somewhere, but - but you know how sometimes -”

hansol rubs his hands up and down your arms, telling you to breathe, and you take in a heaving breath, cheeks almost sore from smiling, heart still pounding. “so, how do you feel?”

you laugh, sound bubbling out of you as you shrug your shoulders. “you know what, i don’t really know! i just feel - i dunno, tingly? excited? like i’m ready to run a marathon? oh man, i just feel - a lot, i guess.” you giggle some more and hansol laughs back, hands moving down to hold yours.

“i’m glad you had so much fun.” there’s a softness in his eyes that you want to write off as being fond, but you don’t want to make any assumptions. “you wanna go get dinner? i’ll pay, everything above board, i promise.”

you hum, rocking back and forth and your heels. “um, yeah, hansol, i think i’d like that.”

he squeezes your hands and smiles, begins rattling off restaurants he wants to take you to.

hansol takes you on more dates, mostly dinner, but occasionally he’ll mention wanting to bring you along on another one of his...outings. you shrug - the adrenaline kick had been nice, but not addicting, and you haven’t been able to bring yourself to steal anything since that first time.

the two of you are strolling through the park, bundled in sweaters and scarves to ward off the winter air.

“i want you to come with me tonight. it’s not a big deal, no big job or anything, but it’d make me feel good to have you there.” his thumb rubs over your hand, swings it back and forth between you two.

you hum, mulling it over in your mind. “what kind of….job, is it exactly?”

he hums back, “well, ‘job’ makes it sound like i have someone else telling me what to do, and it’s not like that. it’s more like i just see something i want, and i figure out how to take it.”

“okay, so what is it you want to take?”

hansol smiles, eyes shining. “just some jewelry. some art, maybe.”

you peer up at him, eyes narrowed. “art?”

“yeah, you know - paintings, sculptures, maybe you’ve heard of them?” he’s smirking and you wish it didn’t make him look more handsome so that you could be more irritated at him. you make up for it by smacking at his arm.

“of course i know what art is, you asshole.” you sigh. “fine, i guess i can come along.”

his smirk softens. “looking forward to it. i’ll pick you up tonight, late, so try to take a nap.” he leans down and kisses your forehead and you laugh.

“yeah, sounds like a plan, i guess.”

you want to say no to him. you really, really do. but you don’t, and late that night there’s a gentle knock on your door. you’ve dressed yourself in all black, worn your most comfortable shoes. you open the door and hansol’s beautiful smile greets you, but there’s something...off about him tonight. you can’t put your finger on it though, and follow him out to his car.

the two of you drive along in silence, one of hansol’s hands interlocked with yours.

“tell me again.” you say softly. “why do you do what you do?”

hansol doesn’t really reply, just hums. he takes his hand from yours, and puts it on the steering wheel so he can put his other hand out of the window.

“i just do it because i want it. yknow? i see something i want, so i take it. i want something, so i have to have it.” his voice is soft. dark.

you nod, wrapping your arms around yourself to ward off the wind from the open window. “where are we going?”

“you’ll see.”

you frown. “it’s not like i’m going to blab about it to anyone.”

in the dark, you could swear that you can see the glint of hansol’s teeth. he glances over at you, and you see eyes that aren’t human. goosebumps rise up your arms and you shut your eyes tight, pressing the backs of your palms into them to rid yourself of the vision. you open them again, and hansol’s eyes are back on the road.

maybe, you think to yourself, you really should have taken that nap.

the drive comes to an end maybe half an hour later - hansol pulls into the driveway of a large house, all dark windows and doors, cars parked neatly in front of the house. other than being a bit larger than normal, it really seemed like any other house.

hansol parks and gets out of the car, waiting for you to follow suit.

“this isn’t what i was expecting,” you whisper, leaning against the hood while hansol scrolls through his phone.

“what were you expecting?” he responds, not taking his eyes off the screen. “that i bring you to a museum? oh no. not this job.”

your skin crawls. “you said we were here for….jewels? art?”

he hums. “i’m here....” he trails off, begins walking up the driveway towards the door. “i’m here for a trumpet.”

you narrow your eyes at him. “a trumpet?”

he looks back at you, but you can’t see his eyes in the dark. “it’s…part of a collection, you could say.”

you shrug your shoulders and follow him onto the porch. you’re expecting him to do, well, something to the door, but he just....twists the handle and the door slides open without a sound.

he looks back at you over his shoulder, eyes shining as the moon comes out from behind the clouds. a breeze rushes past, ruffling your hair and making no noise. hansol motions for you to follow him, and you do.

the house is silent as he leads you through the halls, the house much larger than it appeared even from the outside. despite the dark, he seemed to know exactly where he was going as he began to climb the stairs up to the second floor. you slow your steps, hesitant, but suddenly there’s a tugging from just below your navel and you catch up to hansol quickly.

“stay close.” he whispers. “it’s in this next room.”

you reach the top of the stairs and right in front of you there is an entrance to a room, barely lit with moonlight through a large window.

“go in.” hansol directs you. “you’ll know it when you see it.”

“wait.” you whisper harshly. “why do i have to go in and get it?”

“just do it.” hansol’s voice is loud and dark and you whip your head around, heart pounding as you look to see if he’s alerted anyone. you wait, and wait, but nothing and no one comes.

“no one can hear me but you.” hansol says, “now go and get the trumpet.”

you don’t have time to dwell on his words before the tugging behind your navel comes again, dragging you forward into the room step by awkward step, feet moving with a mind of their own. your heart pounds harder than you can ever remember, eyes frantically scanning the walls in the dim light. you catch a gleam of something from the corner of your eye, turning slowly to see the light from the moon bouncing off of something unlike any instrument you’ve ever seen before.

and yet, somewhere inside you, you know that this is exactly what hansol is looking for. shaking, without even thinking, your hands move up and grasp the trumpet, removing it from the shelf as slowly as you can so you don’t disturb anything else on display.

the second you hold the trumpet against your chest, the room floods with light. your eyes flash up to hansol, standing just outside the doorway, back away from you. you can see that not just the room but the stairway, likely the entire house, is now alight. your only thought is that you’ve been discovered, but hansol doesn’t seem to be too perturbed which only frightens you more. you hurry to him, shoving the stupid trumpet into his arms, and he smiles at you.

his eyes are black and his mouth is full of knife-sharp teeth.

“thanks, babe.” he says. except his mouth never opens to form words. you think back to what he told you before you entered the display room.

“no one can hear me but you.”

“what are you?” you whisper, unable to move. you can’t be sure if it’s from fear or something...else.

“i don’t know if you really want that answer.” his voice fills your head, making his way back down the stairs. your body follows. you can hear the pounding of steps and voices yelling from behind and above you, but hansol just continues moving forward until the two of you are back in his car.

“now, now.” he says as he starts the car. “there’s no reason to cry.”

you hadn’t realized that you were. shaking, your hands put on your seatbelt as he pulls down the driveway. “what are you?”

he doesn’t answer, just continues driving down the road, back towards town. you start to cry, sobs wracking your chest. your hands shake, and you scream, and you want nothing more than to throw yourself from the car and get away from him. but aside from the shaking, you cannot make any part of your body move towards freedom.

“don’t bother.” hansol says. his voice is harsher, a warped version of what you’d heard in knowing him. “i’m not letting you go anywhere anytime soon. you see, there are...places i can’t get into because of what i am. you, on the other hand - human, pure. you can go anywhere. the angels wards would never be alerted by you. not until we’re already gone.”

“what the fuck do you mean, angels?” your voice comes out shaky and torn, throat raw from screaming.

he looks over at you and smiles, mouth still full of knives. “you asked me what i am, didn’t you?” he laughs and your hair stands up on end. “i’m most certainly not an angel.”

“i want to go home.” you whisper, feeling terrified and broken. “please let me go home, i won’t tell anyone what happened. i swear.”

he laughs again. “of course you aren’t going to tell anyone.” he leans over and presses his lips to yours. “not if you want to stay alive.”

you scream. you wonder if you’ll ever be able to stop screaming out your fear and anguish.

he doesn’t take you home. instead the two of you keep driving, until you can no longer keep your eyes open.

when you awake, you find yourself in a bed in a room, surrounded by piles and piles of...stuff, ranging from unworn clothes to books to art, sculptures and paintings alike.

as weird as your surroundings are, all you can focus on is the pain in your throat - the screaming and sobbing had done a number on you. it was the only thing that reminded you this was not a dream.

you slowly pull yourself from the bed, towards what you hope is a bathroom. you open the door and step inside, turning on the sink and watching the water run red. you sigh, unable to feel anything but hopelessness. you turn the sink off and shut the door behind you, walking back into the bedroom and towards the other door, moving slowly around the things that littered the floor.

you open the door and find more piles in the hallway. you walk forward, down the hall, listening to what sounds like a tv playing and following the sound.

you find hansol, seated on some sort of throne, eyes glued to the screen in front of him.

“how nice of you to join me, pet.” he smirks. his teeth are normal, now. his eyes are not.

“i need water.” you force out. “real water.”

he says nothing, but hands you a glass filled with what appears to be water. you sniff it, find it normal enough, and drink. your throat feels instantly better, almost miraculously so.

“where am i? why is there so much...shit?”

hansol barks out a laugh. “my things are not shit, pet.”

“i’m not your -”

“you’re in my home. my home in the human plane, anyway. you wouldn’t be much use to me if i took you to hell. your soul would be tarnished and the angels would see you right away.”

“i’m not your pet.” you mumble.

“fine.” he shrugs. “assistant, then. point is, you’re not going anywhere until i find the last trumpet.”

you narrow your eyes at him. “what do you even need these ugly ass trumpets for?”

he turns to you, smiling wide, all-black eyes crinkling. “tell me. what do you know about the end of days?”

your blood runs cold.

you wish you’d never gone to that speed date.

#Seventeen #seventeen fanfic #svt fanfic #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #chwe vernon #chwe hansol #svt vernon #seventeen vernon

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