#[ ⚠️warning! mentions of blood & violence ]

[enhypencores]

Bleed Me Dry Pt II

READ PART 1 HERE

Lee Heeseung X Y/N

Genre: Yandere Romance/ Thriller/ Stalker

Prompt: "If I carve you into my blood, will you believe my love?"

Word Count: 11K+

WARNING⚠️: Explicit content, profanity, sexual harassment, heated make outs, female stereotyping, use of a derogatory word, violence, lots of blood, aggression, toxic masculinity, yandere, manipulation, mentions of self exit, drugs, unhealthy relationships and mental health issues. Y/N described with long hair and brown eyes.

Cameos: Jake, Jay, Sunghoon, Sunoo, Yeji, Karina, Jaemin and Jisung

A/N: Please read the warnings carefully before proceeding. There's heavy discussions and complex character dynamics. None of it is healthy. This is a work of fiction, please read it as such. If I missed out any, lemme know.

PS: I’d love to hear your feedback <3

Heeseung had gathered some crucial knowledge from a heavily drunk Jake.

“Intelligent and tall. She’s got a thing for them… She had this crush on a dude in the first semester. Told her he was a jerk, didn’t listen, and you know… he broke her heart. His name? Think it was park jeong guk? jeong woo? I don’t know… It was just some guy. She’s stupid…”

He had wanted to punch that knowing look off Jake’s face as he insulted you, but Heeseung tried swallowing down the surging fury.

Because, indeed, you were so stupid. Why had you allowed some loser into your life? When Heeseung gets you, he will make sure to treasure every part of you. He wouldn’t need anyone else. He would use his every breath to cherish you, only you.

Despite the hostility he felt upon hearing of your previous crush, the good news was that Heeseung unintentionally matched the description. He had never been so grateful for his genes until this moment; traits he once considered useless suddenly becoming his most prized.

Heeseung bore a good height, and his mind was like a computer program. At just ten years old, his father had assumed he’d discover the cure for cancer—yet to come true, but everyone in college believed if anyone could do it, it was Lee Heeseung.

A special one, born to lead, a saviour, they claimed. But Heeseung never wanted to be his father’s golden child. He didn’t want to contribute to society or garner the world’s praise. He barely had friends—except for Kim Sunoo, Heeseung’s childhood partner in crime.

To the world, Heeseung was an overachiever, but he knew his excellence was merely a distraction from his twisted mind. His father was the first to notice the disconnect.

Heeseung chose medicine on a whim, a flick of a coin—heads or tails. The boredom in his life drove him to try everything: paragliding, boxing, swimming, drugs and unrestrained, animalistic sex. He had lived countless lives in two decades.

Early teenage years, his father took it upon himself to train his son, instilling social norms and enforcing strict rules as he tried moulding Heeseung into someone 'normal.' Like a dog on a leash, he made Heeseung more human while maintaining a safe distance to avoid getting scratched. Heeseung understood this from the moment he gained consciousness: his father was scared of him. Terrified.

He never discovered what exactly made his father lock his door every night, but whatever it was, it confirmed a small suspicion: Heeseung was unlovable.

It wasn’t anything detrimental really, because Heeseung never felt the need to seek love. Even in psychological terms, a human's absolute necessities were food, shelter, sex, and safety. When he could survive on the bare minimum, why should he look for something as wasteful as love? He'd rather spend time gaming and pretending to outshine the world’s brilliant minds.

Now, Heeseung was tired of the boredom. So tired that he thought to end it. How long could one treck through an aimless journey?

The realisation that he could cease to exist and no one would know his whereabouts made him feel somewhat better. The taste of death brought him immense curiosity. Would he turn to dust and ashes? Would he be forgotten in memories?

He didn’t think anyone would remember him. To his father, he was a trophy; to his friends, a competition; and to outsiders, a freak. His loss would merely be a statistic: a decline in Korea’s population digits, a decrease in the number of distinction holders in the country, and one less student in Seoul University’s register.

That’s what he thought.

Until he came across you.

You, with your brown eyes, small frame, your liveliness and your beauty.

It was a rainy day in Seoul when he was walking past the bus stand after wrecking his father’s beloved car in a deliberate crash. Unfortunately, he made it out unscathed, only injuring the vehicle. Maybe Heeseung had been born with a shit ton of luck, destined to waste it away.

Regardless, thanks to that golden tub of luck, he was able to land his gaze on you. Heeseung unintentionally remembered countless formulae and research, but the one thing he intended to remember—fucking forced himself to perfectly encode in his memory—was the way you looked that day.

Brown hair slightly wet, sticking to your jawline, knitted brows, and wide eyes staring up at the sky in vengeful retaliation. Heeseung stopped in his tracks.

He had never seen an angel angry.

You dialled a number on your mobile and spoke calmly into your phone.

“The bus is running late. Pick me up.” He remembered a sulking pout on your lips.

“It’s raining! I don’t even have an umbrella. You want me to walk?” He remembered incredulous horror written across your features, lips frowning at the caller’s words.

“Fine... Please! There, I said it, now come quick.” He remembered you rolling your eyes, biting your lip and clenching your bag’s strap tighter.

The phone call ended, and you folded your arms over your chest, letting the damp material cling to your bust, detailing the line of your bra as you tapped your foot on the drenched footpath, staring ahead in longing.

That day, an inactive section of his brain burst out with life, that’s all he could theorise. He wanted to devour you, grope your drenched body, kiss your red mouth, force his fingers into your most sensitive tissues and consume your cries.

He wanted to destroy the person on that call with you, bury them within the earth’s deepest pits so they’d never return to you. He wanted the earth to swallow you and him together, so he could hide you away and savour this moment. He wanted to be the only existence to remember you, here, standing at the bus stop, waiting for a ride home.

Why were you here alone anyway? Who was coming?

Heeseung wanted to shadow you from the rain. If he was a part of your life, he’d chase away all the buses—let alone make you wait for one to pick you up. He would stand drenched in the rain if it meant your ass would only meet the covers of his seat.

A booming motion of the car made your eyes light up. Heeseung’s chest knotted up, a foreign emotion bubbling in his throat as a blonde braked his car before you. You hurried to climb into the passenger’s seat, and then he drove away. Just like that.

He hadn’t hurt someone so far in this life, but the urge to drive a car into the blonde grew tenaciously strong. He had never felt such hatred and venom consume his being. The thought of you getting into that car, going away to share a life Heeseung wasn’t a part of left a gnawing anger in his chest.

His heart which hadn’t felt something in so long suddenly felt alive, riveting with twisted emotions. Heeseung didn’t want to live, but suddenly he didn’t want to die either. He didn’t wish to be remembered, but suddenly he wanted at least one person to remember.

That day he came to a staggering conclusion: Heeseung was unfit to be loved, but he wasn’t unfit to love.

—.—.—.—.—.—.—

Peak hours on a Monday afternoon started early. Waitresses ambled from one table to another, carrying orders as the room bustled with young college students, conversing and gossiping while awaiting their snacks. The rich essence of chocolate and coffee beans filled the air, stirring hunger among individuals working alone with their noses in laptops and textbooks.

Heeseung’s lips curved in a knowing smile: if you were here, you’d be one of those unaccompanied goody two shoes, sipping on a chocolate milkshake, jotting things down in your notebook. He pictured your brows scrunched as you wrapped your beautiful lips around the straw, gulping long sips and pulling away with a content smile.

“Baby, can’t we go somewhere more private?”

His jaw tightened, aggravated at the shrill interruption. He feigned a smile, his gaze falling back on the red-haired bimbo who stared at him like he was the answer to her every prayer.

Heeseung grabbed a fork, scooping up a bite of strawberry cheesecake before filling his mouth. His stomach fluttered as he revelled in the sweet texture. Ever since stealing those kisses, he couldn’t stop craving sweet treats. He even bought some candies on his way home that morning, already feeling the withdrawals kicking in.

“But how’ll we do this—in private?”

The girl stared in confusion before she was yanked into his embrace, his warm lips slamming into hers, kissing her aggressively, the sweet creaminess from the cake transferring into her mouth. She moaned, licking his lips incessantly, begging for entrance, but Heeseung dismissed her attempts, his brows furrowed in annoyance.

Nervously, the red-haired girl slid her chair closer, biting her lip as she observed the underwhelmed expression on his face.

“What’s wrong? Are you mad at me?” She sulked, sucking at her teeth, staring up with concern.

Heeseung shook his head and pulled her into his lap. “Did you do something to make me mad?” He mumbled, rubbing his nose down her neck, peppering small kisses to distract her from his response.

“Ah—n-no! I didn’t,” she gasped, her concern melting away already, her head tilting back as Heeseung planted kisses down her collarbone.

“Shouldn’t you be at uni right now?” He abruptly changed the topic, portraying the perfectly caring boyfriend who gave a shit about her life.

“Yeah, but I’ll ask a friend for the class notes,” she mustered up, her breath laborious as Heeseung ran his hand down her thigh, his kisses growing feistier against her exposed neck.

“Hm, are you that smart?” He pressed on, his patience running out. “Thought I’d fucked you dumb already,” he whispered repulsive words, his hand covering her thighs as the girl tightened in his hold, her lips pressed together to silence any sound, cautious of their surroundings.

Heeseung’s gaze changed, a menacing darkness flashing through. “Smart bitches,” he began, his words blunt and aggressive. “Fucking hate them. Running their big mouths all the damn time,” he declared, his bitter tone making her knees quiver in arousal.

“Tell me, baby, you’re not one of those, are you?” He urged.

One way to access a woman’s weaknesses was to put her up against another.

The girl whose name he had forgotten the second she uttered it, shook her head with desperation. Had he asked her to admit to murder, she would have agreed.

“No!” She yelped, alarmed at his lack of interest. “I’m so dumb. Barely passing this degree,” she confessed, her voice cracking as she spread her knees for his attention.

“Hm—really?” He mocked, and she nodded, her body pleading for his approval. “But your course is so tough. You must be so smart.” Heeseung’s tone dripped with sarcasm, his frown hinting at his displeasure.

The girl choked; her breaths alarmingly rapid as Heeseung’s fingers trailed closer to her clothed centre. “But not me—there’s some smart girls in my class. I—I’m not like them, Hee,” she rambled, her eyes screwing shut.

“Smart girls like—yourself?” He threw the bait, challenging her, and she immediately shook her head, her body jolting as Heeseung flicked his fingers against her centre.

“Not me—not me. This other girl—Ah!” She bit her tongue, her body trembling as Heeseung drew faint circles against her clit. “There’s—Y/N!”

Bingo.

“She’s like the smartest—oh!”

Heeseung halted his movement, his teeth gritting in frustration, anger bubbling up his throat as the girl kept moaning into her words, prolonging this ordeal. He hadn’t spent the last three days coercing a second-year pharmacology student from your college to serenade and romance. He wanted information.

The girl’s arched frame twisted at the sudden lack of touch, her wet gaze darting to Heeseung’s in urgency.

“Speak,” he commanded bluntly, his usual sugar-coated tone gone along with his smile.

The girl’s expression faltered, her blood turning cold. “Uh—there’s this girl—she’s really smart, always acing her exams,” she responded reluctantly, her insecure gaze attempting to read his intentions.

Heeseung’s hand slid back down to her leaking centre, his movement more vigorous as he wrapped his lips on her earlobe. “You’re so hot like this—like a dumb bitch for me,” he drawled, sucking her sensitive flesh.

His sudden shift in demeanour seemed like a hallucination, his voice now intentionally low and sultry. “You wouldn’t want to be like Y/N, hm? You’re my good girl.”

The girl was a goner. Her head dropped back onto his shoulder, her eyes shut, and her body trembling from his touch, his previous indifference a distant memory.

“Yeah—I am—so—so dumb for you,” she babbled nonsensically. Heeseung’s flicks quickened.

“That bitch—she’s so smart and talks too much, probably why no one likes her. Such a loser— I don’t know why Park Jongseong’s crazy for her.”

Heeseung’s arm faltered, his body freezing.

The girl, lost in the throes of her arousal, ignored it, urgently pressing her hand down to maintain the pressure. “She’s so full of herself. Bet she’s as virgin as a nun—but maybe—she finally let poor Jongseong have a go, who kno—Ah!”

Heeseung yanked her hair back, his clenched fist tightening and ripping a few strands. His gaze was predatory, chest heaving as he stared down at the horrified girl.

“I’ll rip that tongue out, sweetheart,” he hissed, his venomous tone cutting through and gripping her heart with horror.

The sickening words replayed like a broken record. A searing sting flared inside his chest, his jaw tightening as he thought of that name: Park Jongseong.

Of course, it was the guy from the photos—it fit him perfectly. His arrogant, self-righteous demeanour, that overly exaggerated smile on his face as he held you. It had to be him.

The imagery the stupid girl on his lap painted, her words dripping with malice for his Y/N; everything began to suffocate his lungs.

Heeseung stared down, his hand still gripping her locks as she looked at him with disbelief.

As he released his grip, she winced, her eyes wet with tears.

Heeseung wrapped an arm around her waist like a shackle, holding her captive as he leaned forward and picked up the steaming hot coffee she had ordered. She flinched as he pushed the cup to her lips.

“Drink.”

The girl stared at him like he had grown two heads.

“It’s too hot—”

“Leave one sip behind, and you’ll wish you had listened.”

Her heart raced, body turning cold. Heeseung’s chilling gaze and crooked smile were laced with demonic intent, making her stomach churn. She had never felt her organs shrivel with just the sight of a man’s empty gaze.

She realised at that very moment. She had to obey or else… she didn’t even want to consider what could happen.

She took the heated cup, gulping down her spit to ease the pressure in her throat.

Then she clung to the cup and downed the entire thing. The first rush of liquid scalded the roof of her mouth. Burns trailed down her tongue, to her throat, buzzing all the way into her stomach. Bloody broils flared up, her muscles jolting in agony as pain overwhelmed her cognition. With an excruciating sob, she dropped the empty cup, shattering it on the ground as she tried screaming for help. 

The busy café didn’t seem to notice anything but the shatter, rolling their eyes at the couple’s antics before continuing with their own endeavours.

Heeseung patted her head, smiling in satisfaction. “That’s my good girl.” 

The sobbing girl tore herself from his lap. Standing on quivering limbs, she scrambled to grab her purse and dashed towards the exit.

To Heeseung’s delight, the red-haired bimbo wasn’t so useless after all. He now had a name: Park Jongseong.

Grabbing his phone, Heeseung dialled a number.

“Sim, for your birthday, let’s plan something crazy.”

—.—.—.—.—.—.—

The homeroom buzzed with chatter as students scattered to join their friends at the end of the lecture. While most were preparing to head home, you had to stay back for the weekly council meeting. With your head slack on the table, you shut your eyes and let out an irked groan, wishing you could abandon all your duties and just scramble home.

“Y/N, just resign already. You’re too exhausted,” Yeji, your best friend, called out, rolling her eyes as she zipped up her tote bag.

You groaned again, slamming your head against the table. “You have no idea how badly I want to take your stupid advice,” you whined, rubbing your temples in pain.

Yeji, her pink hair perfectly styled, retouched her lip gloss and eyed your sulking frame. “You take on too much for no reason,” she sighed, finishing her touch-up and patting your head.

“Can’t you loosen up? Look at me, we have finals coming up, and I’m off clubbing with Jaemin,” she gloated, her smile widening at the thought of her boyfriend.

Getting into the world’s best university on an eighty per cent scholarship was tough, but no one prepared you for the strenuous part: upholding those perks. Paired with a demanding course load, extracurriculars and volunteer work felt like a constant nuisance.

“I wish…” you muttered.

Knowing her best friend’s upright nature, Yeji shook her head in defeat.

“Besides that, I’ll be having fun soon,” you iterated, and Yeji instantly grew alert, her eyes wide with anticipation.

“You’re getting a boyfriend?” She gasped, grabbing your shoulders to turn you towards her in excitement. 

“No!” You dismissed, and Yeji’s excitement died as soon as it began, releasing your shoulders in frustration.

“At this point, I strongly believe you wish to die a virgin,” she remarked, running her fingers through her dark strands, her gaze cold. “You even rejected Jongseong,” Yeji huffed.

You winced.

It had been three months since you had been hit by a truck of feelings from the raven-haired boy. Three months of discomfort and pain.

You were introduced to your senior, Park Jongseong, as a good friend of Na Jaemin. The two friend groups had merged, and soon the initial trio—Yeji, Ji-min, and you—grew an acquaintanceship with their group: Jay, Jaemin, and Jisung.

Since you had been to an all-girls school, the first few months of interactions were painstakingly awkward. You felt like an outsider even in a room full of familiar people.

You envied your best friends Yeji and Ji-min for their effortless socialisation skills. Whilst they enjoyed trips and study sessions with the guys, you drew a line, only speaking when spoken to.

In the first year, you were constantly running away from this new world of discomfort. Jay, however, refused to draw a barrier. Like the definition of a headstrong man, he never gave up. Gestures like stopping you in the hallways to talk about his hobbies and inviting you to all his parties showed you that Jay was making a real effort at friendship.

All of it came tumbling down when he confessed to you. The friendship you treasured faded, and you both became strangers again.

“Don’t bring him up,” you gritted, your heart plummeting as you remembered all the distant memories.

You recalled that nightmarish day. You might take this to your grave but Park Jongseong was your first crush. You secretly liked him throughout the farce of friendship.

He held your bag after class, joined extracurriculars like the music society and learned amazing guitar skills. He took you shopping to destress after you failed your lab assessment and played silly nursery rhymes on his guitar to make you laugh. Everything was special until the last day of the second semester.

Jay had asked you to a movie, and as always, you assumed he meant everyone in the friend group, so you called Yeji and Ji-min along.

The moment he saw you walk in with the girls, his expression fell with dismay. Instead of speaking to you about it, he handed the popcorn to your friends and left.

You followed him instantly, but maybe you shouldn’t have.

“Jay!” You chased after him, your heels thudding against the pavement, confusion painted on your features.

He paused in his tracks and turned, his eyes darkening.

“What’s wrong?”

Instead of responding, Jay’s gaze narrowed, a strained chuckle leaving his mouth. “Don’t act dumb now,” he rasped, his voice bitter.

You opened your mouth to question him, but he suddenly stepped close, his towering frame making your insides queasy.

“It’s always the same with you. How long will you pretend?” Jay’s voice trembled with accusation.

“Do you not see me? Chasing after you like a fucking loser. I’ve spent months trying to figure you out. Stop this game of hide and seek!” He roared, tightening his hold on your shoulders as he stared down at you like a wounded wolf.

You felt so wronged and hurt, your throat clogging up with emotions.

Because Jay was right. You were playing dumb, looking past his feelings, ignoring your own to hide away. Your insecurities and fear of disappointment were louder than his words, ringing in your head like tinnitus.

Because you had always assumed someone as rich and well-put-together as Park Jongseong didn’t need to like a mediocre girl on a scholarship.

You felt that breaking his heart might save his friendship, might save you from the pain of losing his love. So you wanted to sever all chances before you even tasted his love.

“What’re you talking about?”

“Tell me, Y/N. Have you ever once liked me?” He questioned, his gaze softening as he held your face in his hands, his pupils trembling with need.

Yes.

Yes!

“No.”

His arms dropped, his gaze dull and empty as he stared into your tearful eyes.

“We’re good friends, Jay. Look, we don’t have to rush into anything—”

You felt chills run down your spine as he cut off your words, his tone sharp and damaging.

“Delete my number. Don’t ever come see me.”

“And if I ever accidentally find my way back to you, slap me awake like this again.”

He tore his arm from your grip and you two never spoke again.

And then a week later, he started dating your friend Ji-min.

“Y/N!” You snapped out of your thoughts, head swirling with flashbacks as Yeji shouted for your attention. “What fun were you referring to?” She shifted closer, curiosity written across her features.

You smiled, flicking her forehead away.

“Jake suddenly wants a big birthday bash for his twenty-second,” you told her, thinking back to this morning when he was talking over the phone with his friends, inviting them to his party.

Seeing you pass by, he called you back, his face glowing with excitement as he ended the call.

“Invite all your friends and their mamas— it’s my 22nd!” He roared, and you imagined he’d burst into a Taylor Swift, ‘22’, any minute now.

“Jake? He usually calls them juvenile,” Yeji giggled, thinking back to the time she had a fat crush on your brother and how she stuck to him like a leech until he shooed her off.

You nodded, rolling your eyes at your brother’s weird mood swings. “He wants to hold a grand party. You’re invited, I guess,” you waved her off, and Yeji laughed, her eyes twinkling in joy.

“Of course, I’ll be coming with my boo,” she winked. “Is it at the house?” Yeji asked, twirling her strands excitedly.

You shook your head, tidying your desk and packing up. “He’s planning it with his friend, Heeseung.”

Yeji gasped at the name as if it had evoked a cocktail party effect, her eyes wide as she held onto your shoulders. “That friend you had a wet dream of?”

Your jaw dropped, eyes wide in fear, darting across the hall to make sure no one heard her. “Shut up!” You yelled, your cheeks flushed red, the memory of your filthy mind fuelling your embarrassment.

Yeji laughed, a playful glint flashing in her hazel eyes. “What, did I lie?” She crudely announced, and you felt helpless, unable to feign innocence. 

The night had left you shaken up. The truth was, you had never felt this affected by a hallucination— imagination, whatever it was, it blurred the lines between reality and fiction. You imagined Heeseung fondling your breasts, kissing your lips. All of it was a newfound hunger.

You scrambled to call Yeji soon after to regain some composure. After a long discussion, her diagnosis was a ‘severe case of ovulation’, and she prescribed, ‘getting dicked down asap’.

After that night, you kept wishing for more hallucinations, but your brain refused to cooperate. You had to rely on a picture you had stolen from Jake’s phone of Heeseung in a black button-down with his legs spread apart on the couch, his lap seeming so inviting that your abdomen clenched with need.

Maybe, you were ovulating. But why was it so intense?

“You know, maybe you should shoot your shot with him,” Yeji suggested, patting your shoulder as she stood alert, waving at the man standing in the doorway.

“My ride’s here, bye girly!” Yeji waved, setting her already perfect hair for the nth time before skipping to the smiling blonde, his gaze practically shooting hearts at your friend. Jaemin grabbed her hand, and they scattered off.

You sighed.

Lee Heeseung, what are you doing to me?

—.—.—.—.—.—.—

Booming music drowned out any chance of conversation. Guests sprawled in like ants to a sugar cube. Faces glowed with joy, arms carried gifts, and gazes sparkled with anticipation as they searched for the man of honour.

But it wasn't the birthday boy they sought. It was Lee Heeseung, the man who had invited the entire university to his farmhouse. It was a privilege, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

During his four years at the university, he hadn’t spared anyone a glance—let alone befriended anyone. When news circulated of Sim Jaeyun’s birthday invite at Heeseung’s, everyone jumped at the chance.

Girls skipped lessons to find the perfect dress, while guys ransacked their wardrobes for branded watches. Curiosity grew almost sleep-depriving. Who was this friend that Heeseung, the man who never let anyone into his circle, deemed worthy of a lavish party? For weeks, the university buzzed with gossip and excitement leading up to this day.

Heeseung’s gaze was fixed on the main entrance, his lips pressed into a thin line. He remained unmoving as over-enthusiastic people rushed to greet him.

He knew the world like the back of his hand. They hated him and despised his arrogance, yet they flocked to him like moths to a flame. All he had to do was give them a chance, let down his guard and the world would surrender in his palms. But it didn’t matter.

As long as he had your attention, the world could be his.

Jake appeared out of nowhere, his arm settling on Heeseung’s shoulder, smiling as his soccer mates walked in.

“You’re ignoring the entire hall,” Jake muttered, his grip tightening on Heeseung’s shoulder to warn him.

Heeseung glanced at the clock for the nth time, his fingers tapping impatiently against his glass. He barely acknowledged the birthday boy's attempt at conversation, his irritation mounting as the clock ticked on without your presence.

“Where is she?” He questioned.

“She had a presentation to finish up,” Jake said, rolling his eyes. “She’ll be here with Yeji and Jaemin soon.”

Jake wasn’t stupid. He had once believed he was special to Heeseung. The notorious case of Heeseung’s egocentrism was a popular topic in the university’s hallways. Even his soccer buddies claimed Heeseung was a nutcase with extreme intelligence.

When Heeseung approached the basketball team and defeated Jake, the established ace of Seoul University, Jake developed a sense of respect and admiration for him. Despite everyone’s claims, Jake realized Heeseung’s issue wasn’t indifference or social deficiencies.

Everyone was infatuated, enthralled, and unequivocally aware of Heeseung’s gift; he commanded attention because he was extraordinary. The problem was that Heeseung didn’t care about them, and when people realized this, their fantasy shattered, leaving them scraping for bits of attention and bitter envy.

Jake knew Heeseung kept him around for a reason, but despite his awareness, Jake was willing to be a pawn if it meant catching Heeseung’s attention.

“Jakey Jakey— it’s your birthday!” Jake looked away, finding his best friend, Park Sunghoon, on the other end of the hall with a gift bag. Jake’s smile grew, and he signalled to Heeseung that he was heading over. Heeseung nodded, and Jake scurried off.

Heeseung averted his gaze, staring back at the main entrance. The delay grew unbearable, and he considered heading out to the parking lot when suddenly he spotted Jaemin and Yeji walking inside.

He stood alert, his gaze tensely fixed on the door.

He held his breath as you walked into his line of sight. His body felt the shift, breath quickening. His fists tightened, and his gaze traced your body with unfiltered haste. 

Fuck, that black body-con dress, outlining your curves, hugging your body like a second skin. His grip on the glass tightened. The dress revealed your defined collarbones, and the slit from the knee paired with black-heeled boots showcased your smooth, honeyed legs. Your hair was curled slightly, silky strands falling in waves against your cheeks, reaching your elbows.

Heeseung’s head throbbed as he tried to decipher his feelings. Seeing you walk inside with that dress made something rise in his throat, and it wasn’t from the alcohol. It was worse, mentally and physically damaging.

How fucking demeaning. He was a man who never felt the burn of envy, but a fucking dress had him feeling so weak—so horribly jealous.

He wished he could tear it off and burn it to ashes like the scorching flames in his own blood. He had planned this moment all morning, intending to walk up to you with a smile, but now he found it difficult to breathe, let alone move.

However, the world doesn’t stop. Even if he couldn’t move, you very much could.

Your stray gaze finally landed on the familiar figure, and you walked up to him. You still weren’t mentally prepared to face the man you had been dreaming of for the past few weeks, but you found it unkind to ignore him when he had planned this lavish party.

You smiled, holding out a small gift bag.

“As far as I recall, it’s not my birthday,” Heeseung finally found his voice, his cheeky comment making you narrow your eyes.

“It’s basic etiquette to bring something when you visit someone,” you replied a hint of playfulness in your tone. You caught sight of the gift display in the backdrop where innumerable presents were mounted on the table. “I’ll take it there,” you politely acknowledged.

You were ready to walk off, but Heeseung pulled you back, instantly grabbing the present. Taken aback, you opened your mouth to question him, but he ignored your curious gaze.

Everyone stealing reserved glances at the duo paused, their eyes wide, jaws dropped in amusement. Like a boy opening his Christmas gifts, Heeseung rushed to untie the ribbon and tear through the wrapping paper.

“Heeseung, it’s not that great…” your panicked voice cut through, cautious of everyone’s expectant gaze on your gift. The plea went right through him, and he finally discovered a small clear bottle.

You brought him cologne.

You had racked your brain for days on what to bring him, and you had decided upon a blackberry cologne. The succulent scent carried a sinful aura, an intimidating and enigmatic aroma that perfectly captured Lee Heeseung.

Heeseung ran his thumb over the label. Then he unscrewed the top and sprayed it on his wrist. As he brought it to his nose, his heart felt fuller than before.

He imagined you walking into a Jo Malone store, attentively trying numerous scents until the abundant smells overstimulated your senses as you thought of him. How long did you spend deciding on the perfect one? How long did he manage to fill up your head?

“It’s just a small gift,” you mumbled, analysing his features.

“It’s perfect.” He said it with so much sincerity, you had no choice but to believe him.

“Where’s my gift?” Jake appeared with some of his rowdy friends from the sports club, his arm linked with the ice skater, Park Sunghoon. He pouted dramatically, his bottom lip sticking out. You rolled your eyes at his antics.

“Last I checked, you asked me to buy you a Nintendo Switch as an early birthday present,” you replied. Jake gave you a mock glare. “That was ages ago,” he huffed.

Before you could retort, you caught Yeji's eyes from across the room. She stood by the bar, urgently motioning for you to come over. The alarmed look on her face made you excuse yourself from the guys as you hurried to her.

Yeji grabbed your arm with an intense grip, struggling to catch her breath as a crazed laugh bubbled up her throat.

“You’re kidding,” she gasped. “You were talking about Lee Heeseung!” She roared with laughter, her expression priceless as she turned to you.

You stared at her, confused. “What?”

“Y/N!” She shook you slightly, her wide eyes trembling with excitement. “You don’t know him? He’s popular across the entire district!”

Seeing your blank expression, Yeji took it upon herself to fill you in. She pulled out her phone and showed you Seoul University's popular forum dedicated to Heeseung. As she clicked through the links, you realised the man was practically the definition of perfection.

His father owned a large-scale pharmaceutical corporation, and Heeseung was the sole heir. Despite this parental security, he was at the top of his classes, captain of the basketball team, head of the arts and music society, and president of student affairs. By his second semester, he had already secured an internship at HYBE, a massive healthcare conglomerate—separate from his father’s influence. He was so incredibly intelligent that the college even commemorated his achievements with dedicated newsletter columns and interview sessions.

As you absorbed this overwhelming information, Yeji’s tone flattened, her lips pressing into a thin line. “But, Y/N, he’s known as a player,” she reluctantly added. “Apparently, there hasn’t been a girl he hasn’t had.”

You stared silently at the soles of your boots.

Of course, he was a player. Anyone would drop to their knees for a chance to be with him. You had read somewhere that gravitational pull was the strongest in a black hole, but science hadn’t investigated the world’s pull towards Heeseung. You had only met him a couple of days ago, yet he had already made you feel so unbearably enraptured.

Ruminating over Yeji’s words, you were speechless at your own disappointment. How could he affect you so terribly?

“But—he’s never had anything serious,” Yeji tried to console you, squeezing your shoulder.

Throat tightening, you attempted a smile.

“Who invited them?” Yeji's gasp broke through your thoughts, her mouth hanging open, eyes bulging in shock as she stared behind you.

You shifted, turning to see what had her so stunned.

Your jaw dropped.

In walked a couple, hand in hand, wearing complimentary outfits. A couple you hadn’t spoken to in ages, a couple that haunted your sleepless nights: Park Jongseong and Yu Ji-min.

Your frantic gaze searched for Jake, conflicting emotions swirling across your face as you tried to make sense of your surroundings. Your older brother stood inattentive, engrossed in a conversation with Sunghoon as Jay approached him, wearing a broad smile. You watched them exchange a quick handshake, Jake accepting a large gift box.

“Why would Jake invite him?” Yeji huffed.

You didn’t know—but a gut feeling told you this was meant to happen.

The familiar gaze met yours. He was now heading to the leather couch beside his girlfriend, his eyes trained on you. You offered him a tight smile, your insides trembling in growing anxiety.

Jay was stern, his gaze cold and disdainful. Whilst maintaining eye contact, he pulled his girlfriend to sit on his lap, his grip tight on Ji-min’s waist as she whispered something into his ear. 

Your smile dropped at his immaturity.

You had lost both your friends, Jay and Ji-min, because of your mistakes. You had avoided them like the plague, and something deep within you suggested that the mysterious rumours circulating around the university weren’t just random gossip; they were spread by someone you had once considered as close as Yeji.

Something more sinister gnawed at your insides. 

Heeseung.

Amidst the chaos, you felt someone’s piercing gaze on you. Like a magnet, you found him. Under the blue strobe light, Heeseung stood leaning against the bar’s counter, flanked by a few girls, with his eyes fixed on you, watching like a hawk.

Though he was a stranger—a complete nobody in your world—you still felt he was reading you like an open book. Anxiety washed over you, your throat drying up under his intense scrutiny. If your life was split into meaningful chapters, Heeseung knew it by heart, his gaze uncomfortably invasive, expectant as if judging your next move.

A waiter zooming by caught your attention, and you pounced on the opportunity. Fingers trembling, you grabbed a glass of champagne and downed it in one go, the liquor leaving a bitter burn in your throat.

“Y/N, you don’t hold your liquor well,” Yeji frowned. One drink never hurt anyone, and besides, this was a party—everyone was soon going to lose their marbles.

You turned away, grabbing another drink from a passing waiter.

“Y/N, stop!” Yeji warned. You smiled tightly, ready to throw more alcohol into your system.

In a flash, Heeseung, who had been a good fifty people away, stood towering over you. He snatched the glass from your grasp and chugged it down. You watched in disbelief as he slammed the empty glass on a passing waiter’s tray, his gaze darkening as he stared at you. Yeji took it as her cue to scram, rushing to accompany her boyfriend on the dance floor.

Your stomach clenched with want. Even simply dressed in a black t-shirt and leather jeans, his expression sour, his appeal was uncanny. He made you forget the elephant in the room.

“So— he bothers you that much?” Heeseung spat, his voice low and venomous.

He had planned to watch from the sidelines. Jongseong’s name was enough for Heeseung to find sources and sniff out your past link. He was told you had rejected the boy, but that didn’t match Jake’s description of your first crush.

It didn’t take long for Heeseung to realise that you really did like Jongseong, your affection reflected in that picture you still chose to keep. The reason you had declined his proposal wasn’t a mystery either. You feared ruining a chance at friendship, and that conclusion made Heeseung sleepless.

Heeseung had orchestrated this party and invited Jongseong, just to watch your heartbreak. He wanted to dwell in the forlorn misery in your gaze, relish in the fury and hatred fuelling your agonised expression. He wanted you to shatter so that you were left with no choice but to find him. So that he could collect those shards and piece you together. For himself.

Yet here you stood, bothered and apologetic. There wasn’t one bad bone inside you, your heart pure like the sunshine that streaks through his curtains every morning.

“How do you know about Jay?” You curiously pointed out, folding your arms and gazing up at the man.

Heeseung flinched at the nickname. Tightening his fists, he responded with gritted teeth. He didn’t need to lie for this.

“Jake.”

One word and your face crumbled, your finger pointing at the blonde who laughed beside his friends. “Why can’t that idiot keep his mouth shut?” You complained, glaring daggers. You couldn’t believe your brother blurted out your business to Heeseung.

“Do you still want him?”

Say it.

Say it, and he’ll burn this place down, along with Park Jongseong, leaving you with nothing—not even a corpse to mourn—just a speck of remains and dirt.

“I don’t.”

His eyes shifted back to their brown.

“I just wish I hadn’t lost my friends.” You glanced down at your shoes, face shrouded in despair as you reminisced the past.

Heeseung watched the sorrow flicker in your deprived eyes.

This was simpler than he had imagined.

“Let’s get the party started!” Jake yelled at the top of his lungs, carrying a huge celebratory bottle of champagne as everyone huddled around him.

Yeji appeared by your side, dragging you towards the crowd where Jake prepared to unseal the wine, like a cake-cutting ceremony. From your peripheral vision, you noticed Heeseung walk up beside you—until everyone, including Jake, roared for him to come forward.

You watched Heeseung shake his head dismissively, but Jake’s adamant smile made him falter. For the first time, you saw a crack in Heeseung’s stern façade, a genuine sense of joy flashing through his expression.

You watched with intrigue as he stepped up, and Jake finally celebrated his twenty second. Everyone cheered as Jake popped the cork and showered Heeseung and Sunghoon with the essence.

Yeji over-excitedly gasped. During her overjoyed dance, she accidentally slipped forward, toppling her glass of wine onto your dress’s front. You quickly wiped at it, but the liquid soaked into the flimsy fabric with ease.

“Shit— sorry boo,” she cried over the music. You shook your head, dismissing her concern.

“I’m heading to the washroom,” you muttered. She nodded, unsure of your words, as the loud roaring and music drowned everything.

You slipped away from the chaos, excusing your way through until you managed to escape to the other end of the hall. You followed the dim hallway, the raucousness dissolving, as you searched for the nearest bathroom. You found a door at the far end with a staircase to your right and sped towards it.

“Long time.”

You turned, instantly freezing up.

Jay stood at the other end, speaking with his familiar calculated baritone. He stepped forward, watching your shocked expression morph into disappointment.

“Oh, seems like you’re not too happy to see me here,” he claimed, now standing a mere step away, his tone dripping with malice. “Is the princess running away again?” The darkness returned, his jaw clenched.

You gulped, standing upright. “I don’t have anything to say to you,” you told him, turning away.

A bitter chuckle escaped his chest. “Of course, you don’t,” he spat. “Now that you’ve found a man, you don’t have much to say,” he claimed, running his fingers through his dark strands, his gaze menacing.

Your throat burned with hostility. “You’re ridiculous,” you huffed. “Following a girl when you’ve already got a girlfriend—seems like I dodged a bullet.” You uttered the words, disturbed by his arrogant nonchalance, and instantly the atmosphere grew with heightening tension.

Your cruel words seemed to inflict some damage as Jay’s body trembled, his fists tightening in aggravation.

Because you were right. He knew it.

As you stepped away, all common sense evaded him. He grabbed your wrist and slammed you to the wall, a gasp wrenching out of your chest as he hovered above, his hands gripping your waist with an iron grip.

“I never needed you,” he whispered, his eyes wide and pained as you attempted to free yourself, but Jay’s grip on your waist only tightened. “I’ve just liked the chase. You were so full of yourself—so pathetic. Nothing about you ever made me feel something—anything—”

A bloodcurdling scream wrenched out of your throat as a shattering sound reverberated within your frame. Your eyes bulged out, heart trashing and body quivering in horror. One second Jay was standing, staring at you like a madman, and the next, he was knocked to the ground, blood splattering against your cheeks, staining your dress and skin scarlet.

Breathe. Take a deep breath. Breathe.

You plummeted to the floor, your knees giving out as Jay’s forehead and neck covered in red pooled on the ground. You internally prepared yourself as you looked up, staring at the perpetrator.

A dull void of a gaze, Heeseung’s hand was wrapped around a half-shattered bottle with its sharpened edges dripping Jay’s blood. Your insides clenched in horror.

Heeseung stepped closer as Jay’s limp frame scrambled to sit up, his gaze chasing the danger, his grip on his head loosening as he spotted the man.

“You—you fucking lunatic—what the fuck is wrong with—”

Jay’s yelps fell on deaf ears as Heeseung discarded the bottle and plummeted to the floor before you, his pupils drained of colour and hands trembling as he caressed your cheeks. His thumb rubbed at the splashes of blood, eyes wide with terror—a terror you had never seen. More than his own actions, his line of concern was the beads of red staining your complexion.

“Hee…” you tried to speak, your throat dry and lips quivering.

“It’s okay—you’re okay,” his voice trembled as he consoled himself, more than anyone, his gaze frantically running over your body.

What you didn’t realise was Jay reaching out to grab the loitering bottle. Heeseung’s warm gaze and words were so captivating, pulling you away from the unfolding catastrophe. Suddenly, the fantasy shattered. Jay smashed the bottle against the back of Heeseung’s head.

You screamed, your body jerking alert as you pulled Heeseung into your arms, sobbing aloud. Jay stood on trembling legs, glaring at Heeseung with a poisonous look before limping away. You tightened your hold on Heeseung, your body shaking despite his grievous injury. The attack was strong enough to lash out blood but not wilful enough to break the bottle like Heeseung had done.

You tried to pull away to check his wound, but Heeseung pulled you back into his chest, his arms wrapping around you protectively.

Fuck. He could die right now and he’d be happy. Over the fucking moon. He almost wanted to thank that low-life for brusing him because it worked in his favour.

You gazed upon him with sympathetic attention, like you were gazing upon a wounded puppy. You were finally in his arms, letting him envelop you. He inhaled the scent of vanilla and fresh peaches, his hold on your frame tightening with desperation.

He wanted to consume you.

“Heeseung, let me see your wound,” you softly cried into his shoulder, unable to breathe at the intensity of his clutch.

“It’s not deep—nothing compared to what that moron will take home,” Heeseung arrogantly claimed. His prideful tone made your insides hurl; it reminded you of the initiation. Heeseung had started it all; he had slammed a glass bottle into Jay’s head.

You pushed him back, your gaze stern as you met his aggravated one. “Why?” You cried hysterically, recalling the insanity of the previous moment. “How could you—”

Heeseung’s expression grew colder than ice. “I’ll break every bone he used to touch you,” he declared, the honesty in his tone sending chills down your spine. 

“You literally almost murdered him!” You screeched.

Heeseung cracked a deluded smile. “He’ll wish I had.”

You felt speechless. Utterly stunned into silence. What did that mean? You wanted to assume that his fury made him speak nonsense, that he didn’t mean a word. However, when you stared into Heeseung’s gaze, your stomach turned at the resolute darkness, his words horrifyingly blunt and absurd.

You were about to call him out when you noticed trail of blood slither down the side of his face. You gasped. "You need to get to a hospital,” you urged.

“And explain what?” He scoffed with a playful smile.

You felt bewildered. Of course, you didn't care at the moment! As long as he got treated, you didn't care what lie he spat out.

You glared at him. “You need to get it checked out, Heeseung,” you muttered with concern, noticing the blood kept gushing in thicker streams.

Wordlessly, Heeseung grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers, and nodded as he pulled you to stand. You sighed in relief, grateful that he was finally listening. His grip never faltering on your hand, you both turned towards the venue.

Heeseung suddenly pulled you back, ignoring your confusion, instead climbing up the staircase. “What’re you doing?” You groaned, attempting to retract, but Heeseung just kept walking.

Upstairs, the living room was carpeted with posh couches and chairs. You passed by expensive paintings hung up on the wall as Heeseung took you inside a dark room, stalking through blindly until he pushed at another door.

Lights flickering on, you surveyed the unfamiliar surroundings. Heeseung had brought you to a bathroom. You glanced at him in confusion as he shut the door and turned towards you.

“Heeseung, what’re you doing?”

“You said I need to get my injury checked out,” he responded, leaning down and grabbing a first aid kit from the cubby hole. “I’m doing it,” he flashed you a clever smile, his eyes shining with amusement.

Even if you were about to throw a tantrum, you couldn’t anymore. Heeseung’s words, his eyes, his smile, everything was enough for you to sit still and obey. You watched as he stepped towards the large mirror. He casually tilted his head to inspect the wound.

Expressionless, he opened up the first aid kit, grabbing a transparent bottle and cotton pads like a professional, as if he had already addressed such wounds in the past. With practised nonchalance, he soaked the cotton pad with the liquid and pressed it into the wound.

You winced, instinctively jumping forward to grab the bottle from his hand.

“Who deals with a wound like that!” You screeched hysterically.

Heeseung turned, his brows raised, lips pressed in confusion. You put forward your palm, glaring at him. He surveyed your stern expression and, to your surprise, gave in easily, handing you the stained cotton ball without putting up a fight. You had imagined he would claim he knew more—but Heeseung just stared at you passively. You gulped, edging forward.

You knew the wound was deeply ingrained on the right side of his head, but reaching it was an issue. You were a good half a person shorter than him, his towering frame allowing you to reach only his chest. Standing on your tiptoes, you could only make it to his collarbone. You tried pushing up to reach the mark, but it remained physically impossible.

You noticed the amusement sparking in his expression, his lips curving into a gentle smile. “What’s so funny?” You gruffly questioned, and his smile only grew more.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you up, setting you on the cold basin. He turned, towering between your parted legs.

“There.”

You quickly recovered, ignoring the butterflies fluttering in your chest or the heat stirring from where he had just touched you. You reached up. The angle allowed you to address the wound better.

Thankfully, there was a single cut, slashing down to the nape. You held the cotton against the cut, letting it absorb the blood, and then gently swirled it across.

Heeseung’s breathing suddenly grew heavy, and you flinched, quickly scanning his face for hints of pain. “Is it too bad?” You muttered, your eyes wide and voice reluctantly soft.

He nodded. It was painful, so unbearably agonising like he was thrown into a fuming furnace, burning and dying, then reincarnating and burning every breath he spent in your vicinity.

His fists tightened, his gaze tracing your attentive expression, your lips puckered in deep concentration, hands so gentle, like a mother’s touch—or what Heeseung assumed must’ve been had he ever felt one. The past month he only dreamed of this moment—to have you before him, launched between his legs, attending only to him.

You cleaned up his wound with precision. He had practice, but your touch was magical—a healing balm of its own.

“Have you done this for anyone else?” His question came out gruffer than expected, his stomach twisting as he imagined you perched on a sink like this for someone else.

You finished cleaning up, moving to grab the bandage. “Of course not,” you huffed, peeling the bandaid from the wrapper.

“I just know I’m not supposed to stab wounds like that,” you sarcastically claimed, reminded of him jabbing his head. “You’re the future doctor… you should know this,” you leaned to the side, pressing the band-aid into his scalp.

“They teach us how to treat,” he stated. “Whatever gets the job done,” he shrugged.

You couldn’t help but grimace at his words.

“If you don’t treat with the element of pain in mind, you’ll hurt yourself more.”

Heeseung's throat was suddenly tighter than normal.

You wiped your hands with a tissue. Shifting closer, you inspected Heeseung’s injury one more time. You were about to get off the sink when you noticed glimmering bits of glass nestled in his hair. Impulsively, you reached out, flicking the strands.

“Oh—!” You jerked away, your finger cut by an unseen sharp edge that pierced the flesh.

Before the blood even oozed out, Heeseung sprang forward, grabbing your wrist, his gaze wide with horror as he impulsively pulled your finger into his mouth.

An astonished gasp escaped your chest.

Wide-eyed, you watched Heeseung suck around your finger.

At the first drop of your blood against his tongue, Heeseung’s eyes screwed shut, his body heating up, the metallic taste mixed with your skin’s sweetness creating a delicious buzz within his taste buds. Maybe if he drank enough, you'd really become a part of his being; if he fused your blood with his, you'd somehow become his.

He lapped at the drop incessantly, his hand reaching to lock your wrist in place as he covered your finger with saliva.

There was a shift in the air. You felt it in your bones.

As he looked up, meeting your eyes while simultaneously drenching your finger inside his mouth, your body began to heat up. A burn ignited at the centre of your legs, your imagination running wild, your limbs quivering.

Time became meaningless as he revelled in the euphoric bliss. When he noticed you weren’t pulling away or flinching, his muscles clenched with want. Instead, your cheeks were redd, eyes fluttering in bashfulness. Warmth in his blood shot lower, pooling within his sensitive region.

A thrum vibrated his own being as Heeseung popped another finger into his mouth, his sucking growing intense, lascivious, and hungrier. Your body jolted as his slick enveloped your digits, his tongue tirelessly flicking and tasting.

You wanted to intervene and stop this madness, but suddenly you couldn’t find your voice. Your throat refused to cooperate, and your lips denied any help.

His gaze was trained on your expressions, every blink, every gasp. He wanted to memorise the way your cheeks blushed scarlet and mouth opened in silent gasps. You were so beautiful, so perfect, so his.

“Hee—” you managed to choke out.

Heeseung’s hardness jerked in his pants, his body shaking with want. You had just attempted to say his name.

Suddenly, he pulled his mouth away and yanked you to the floor. You fell against his chest, your feet staggering on the marble floor, a stunned gasp escaping your mouth. He didn’t let you process it, his moves sharp and abrupt.

Your jaw dropped as you felt the tent of arousal straining against your abdomen. Your underwear was drenched, muscles taut as the reality dawned upon you. Lee Heeseung wanted you.

“Feel that—fuck—do you feel it?” He rasped against your ear, his hardened tone and body making you forget any coherent response, your body tensing up in his embrace. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful—stunning—so breathtaking. You make me—” His voice cracked as he felt nestled his nose against your neck, sniffing like a dog.

“Make you…” you pleaded for him to continue, craving his validation.

“Make me pathetic—so damn pathetic,” he blurted, his mind elsewhere as he sucked onto your earlobe.

His kisses ran down your neck, and he urgently flicked the hair away to feast. He pressed his lips gently, wanting to savour every moment and worship every inch, but within the first contact, his patience was out the window. He pushed his throbbing body into yours, knocking you against the sink as his mouth opened wide, biting into your flesh.

His mind fell numb as your taste and scent drove him to the brink of euphoria. He found it strange how you turned him into a quivering virgin mess with just this.

Your gasps reverberated in the bathroom walls, your frame quivering.

His touch was desperate, persistent like he was holding onto you for dear life. Fingers interlocked in your strands, body shaking with restrain as his mouth devoured your neck, you felt lost in a sea of pure bliss. You hadn’t had many sexual experiences in your life, but whatever make out sessions you had shared with boys in first year didn’t live up to this feeling, this hunger— from him.

“Ah!”

Every hair on his body stood alert. Your sounds were so pretty just like your body. He knew he couldn’t live without absolutely breaking your resilience. He had to tear through your exterior and drag out the vulnerable girl who moves to his rhythm, sings to his beat and responds to his call.

“Heeseung—Ah!” Your body tensed, his name falling from your mouth as his kisses grew frantic, prolonged. You were so flustered that you felt the world knock off its axis. You urgently held onto his tense shoulders, hoping you wouldn't fall over with the intensity of his want.

Had it been any other girl in his arms, anyone, he’d have thrown her on the floor and fulfilled his depraved desires. He’d have coerced her lust, used and abused her body like a mere object for his release. He wanted to do the same to you like he’d envisioned every night.

But you weren’t any girl. You weren't a momentary escape. For the first time in his life, he wanted it both: lust and love. He wanted to ruin you for everyone— not just physically but emotionally. He wanted your body and your soul.

And you were the sole reason he unwillingly held back, restrained his desire to rip you apart.

Breathless and flustered, you struggled to gather your thoughts. Your body was begging for him, but you couldn’t look past the reality.

This was Lee Heeseung, the hottest playboy, the genius, the most eligible bachelor in Korea—and most importantly, your brother’s best friend. You were calling his name so embarrassingly, and you were certain going all the way, he’d have nothing to do with you after tonight. He was like a forbidden fruit, so effortlessly desirable but never yours.

He will never be yours.

Your eyes burned with tears. You had managed to like him so much, and tonight it would crumble apart. Just the way you had ended up running from Jay, you should run from Heeseung before he takes your heart with him.

Determined, you pushed against him. The sudden move knocked him away, his reddened face twisting in confusion and frustration at the distance.

You quickly stumbled to the sink, splashing cold water on your face. Your complexion as red as a cherry, eyes shining, indicating hints of your previous bliss; Heeseung had littered red and purple marks all over your neck, his saliva still warming your flesh.

Behind you, Heeseung appeared, wrapping his arms around your waist. His eyes locked onto your reflection, his gaze darkening as it traced the curve of your neck. The heat between you intensified, his desire becoming evident as he pressed his aching body into yours. His eyes fluttered shut, savouring the sensation of your soft curves against him.

Embarrassingly, your abdomen clenched again.

“T—this is wrong. Stop,” you babbled, pushing him away, your dejected tone falling on deaf ears as he pressed into you again. “Heeseung—” You turned, using all your force to push him away. He looked up, his eyes clearly unfocused.

The bathroom was getting stuffy now. His unnerving gaze made it hard to breathe. You stepped away, yanking the bathroom door open and rushing out into the bleak room, your breathing unnecessarily heavy. Your body was aching with arousal, wanting to go back into his arms and give yourself up.

Heeseung shot out, grabbing your waist and jerking you into his hold, his heavy breaths lingering against your earlobe. You tried pulling away when suddenly he whipped you around.

With darkness blinding your vision, you couldn’t evade him as he yanked you into his chest and slammed his lips into yours.

The taste of cherries overwhelmed your senses, your body liquifying as he immediately plunged his tongue into your mouth, tasting you.

Every instant in his life had brought him to this moment. He knew it when he kissed your mouth, licked your tongue, traced your gums—he knew you were meant for him. Your beauty was his to ruin. Your taste was his to devour. Your love was his to take.

A strange sensation flared up in his chest, spreading to his heart. For the first time, all his medical knowledge felt useless—he didn’t even feel human because even they could identify sensations.

Heeseung cupped your jaw, his lips trembling as he took in all your taste had to offer. His teeth clashed with yours, and his saliva dripped down your chin, his tongue rolling against yours as he poured an overwhelming flood of unnamed emotions into you.

His erection pressed against your lower stomach as he kissed you breathlessly. Suddenly, he was tearing at his buttons, desperate to feel your skin against his.

His kiss felt urgent, charged with arousal. You felt like you would blow into tattered pieces with the intensity of his touch, his deprivation and lust. Your fingers ran through his tousled strands, clenching for semblance of control as he sucked the soul out of you.

Your lungs flared up in discomfort due to the limited oxygen supply. You gasped, pushing at his shoulders with all your strength. Heeseung’s grip didn’t falter. Your gasps grew more strained and alarming. Only when you felt tears blurring your vision did Heeseung relent.

Both of you panted like dogs, heaving breaths echoing through the room.

“Stop it!” You screamed, pushing him away as you blindly searched for the exit. 

Yellow lights flickered on, the sudden burst blinding you momentarily. Heeseung stood like a barrier blocking the door, his advantage clear as he seemed to have the room mapped out in his head.

Pupils blown out, he panted, his gaze clouded with the need to ravage and devour you whole. His undone button-down hung the shoulders, revealing honey toned chest and tense abs, descending lower into his pants. Your mouth dried up, but you forced yourself to remain unfeeling.

You voiced out, “Let me go—”

“Why?” He asked gruffly. His eyes locked onto your trembling orbs, his brows arching in frustration.

“I can’t have you?” He whispered.

His words were laced with provocation. He hadn’t felt such an urgency to ruin someone, ever. He ached to feel your skin against his. He was hurting to fill you. If you wanted, he would plummet to his knees, stick out his tongue and shamelessly beg, plead. 

You looked at him with indifference. “You’re my brother’s—”

“So what?” He barked, his abrupt interruption making your breath stutter.

He stepped closer until he had you pressed against the wall, his arms on either side, locking you in place. You hadn’t expected him to be this eager. Why did he care? A man like Heeseung could get any woman on earth. One look and they’d drop their panties to the floor. Your glare grew more acrimonious at the realisation.

You pushed at his chest, your fingers grazing his warm skin, lighting up fireworks in your system. “I refuse to be your one-night fantasy, Heeseung,” you stuttered, unshed tears slipping out.

The fury in his gaze collapsed, his lips parting in stunned horror.

This was your chance…to run free, to protect whatever’s left of your heart. Hastily, you dashed to the door, your grip pulling at the handle when suddenly Heeseung was behind you, enveloping your waist.

You screamed and struggled, your feet kicking the air as he carried you away and tossed you onto the bed. You fought against his manhandling, punching and pushing against him, but he just stared at you like you were a weak feline lashing out.

He let you burst out until your energy had depleted and you fell limp.

“You’re fucking joking,” he laughed, disbelief coursing through his frame. “One night fantasy?” He spat, his fists tightening at the audacity of your words.

You stared back, matching his intensity. “Isn’t it famously known?" You huffed. “You don’t touch a woman you’ve had once,” you snarled, your tone dripping with hostility.

That sent him spiralling. “I don’t,” he declared. He watched the spark in your eyes die down, tears running down your cheeks. You attempted to get up, but Heeseung dropped to his knees, his hands scrambling to cup your face.

His heart pounded so hard, that he felt its drumming within his entire being. “You’re not any woman,” his voice cracked, his throat tightening as he kissed your tears one by one. “You’re mine."

He hadn’t said anything more honest in his entire life.

Yet, you looked at him the same—awfully sceptical, disbelieving. He had attempted to pour out his heart, claim you as his, but you gazed at him like he was a liar, a deceiver. Heeseung dropped his arms, anger surging within his blood.

“You don’t believe me,” he declared, his tone laced with bitter sarcasm.

You wanted to so badly—but you had no reason to. Why would he fall for you?

You watched as Heeseung’s gaze frantically scoured the room.

Something ominous was happening. You felt your stomach twist. You called his name, but he turned away, dashing towards the study table. You stared in confusion as he grabbed his car key. 

Without any warning, Heeseung struck the sharp edge into his chest, stabbing himself in his sternum. A scream lurched out your throat, your breath stuttering as you attempted to get to him. He forced the key inside, tearing through the flesh in a line. Blood gushed through the wound, but Heeseung’s concentration remained firm.

“What the fuck— stop-stop!” You screeched, finally getting a hold of his arm.

He didn’t stop, still working on creating the art piece he wanted you to see. You felt lightheaded as you fought against his determined actions. Unable to knock him back into reality, you decided to fling at the key, letting it slip from his grasp.

Horror ceased your chest. The scarred flesh formed a letter— your initial. You gazed up at him, your throat constricting as a soul-stirring chill escalated down your spine.

“If I carve you in my blood, will you believe me?” A pained gaze, a torn heart, a horrifying smile.

Your limbs trembled.

You glanced at the wound, lips parting in silent horror.

This was absurd— absolute madness. You couldn’t wrap your head around it, but you knew it was awfully dangerous like playing with fire or chasing a lion into its den. You should be scared— fearing for your life. You should escape right now when you have the chance. You should run and never look back.

There are many shoulds' you encounter in life, but none of them hold any value when something as desirable holds you by the throat. Someone as irresistibly horrifying as Lee Heeseung. Whatever you did next, you knew your fate was sealed. Even if you ran, you couldn't outrun him-- and somewhere in the pool of longing in your depraved heart, you didn't want to. You didn't want to find a way out.

You leaned down and wrapped your lips around his honey peck, swirling your tongue and licking the scarlet oozing from his self-inflicted wound, surprising yourself as you swallowed it down. 

Life and death stood at a standstill. Had you pushed him away, he’d still have ruined you, broken your soul to pieces and killed himself over hurting you. But you chose to acknowledge, indulge in his pained longing, accepting it like a lover's call, making him want to live more— chase more— love more. 

Vision glazed, heart thundering against his chest, he wrapped you in a breathless embrace.

Amid the chaos, a strained voice invaded the room. “Hee— fuck, we’ve got a problem.” 

Your head shot towards the door, eyes wide with fear. 

Fuck.

Your brother was at the door.

A rampant knock. “Hee— you in there?” Jake's voice spilt into the heated room, your body freezing. Heeseung didn't even spare the door a glance as he pressed himself within your body.

“They’ve come looking for drugs— I don’t know who’s called but the police are searching the place.”

Your eyes bulged out of their sockets, jaw-dropping in horror.

Drugs? Police? 

Instead of concern or a slight hint of fear, Heeseung’s grip tightened on your wrists, and he attacked your lips, invading your mouth. You gasped, caught off guard, your jaw opening in a silent gasp. He swallowed your protests, his hands releasing your wrists to grope your butt-cheeks as he hoisted you up in his arms while sucking on your bottom lip. 

“Bro— are you seriously fucking someone right now?” Jake’s incredulous tone made you want to dig a hole and bury yourself inside.

Heeseung’s grip on your buttocks tightened, his groans purposefully filling the room like a silent message for Jake. His knees gave out, knocking you down, your body crashing into the bed as he vigorously unbuckled his jeans. His warm tongue feasted through your mouth, swallowing your complaints, his head lolling into your shoulders as he pressed wet, hasty bites down your neck. 

Another knock. 

“Fuck— Heeseung get out here! They’ve arrested Jongseong.”

You gasped.

What the fuck?

Heeseung paused.

Through glazed vision, he stared down at you. His lips slowly formed a smile that made every hair on your body rise.

Kim Sunoo had really come through, orchestrating a flawless drug raid, planting the evidence in Jongseong's bags and vanishing without a trace. Jay would waste away five years in prison for drug possession— barely enough to atone for the pain he gave you, hopefully enough to erase the longing that fucker held for you. Heeseung knew he owed his partner in crime a bottle of Soju next time Sunoo visited their shared farmhouse.

“Heeseung, we should—”

Heeseung licked your mouth, holding your trembling body in place, his fingers desperately tugging at your straps. Despite your persistence, he didn’t care for anything at the moment. Someone could tell him that the entire house was on fire or that the universe had collided into a meteor, crumbling to bits and pieces, and he’d still ignore it all.

For now, he will spend every second making you his—until his love is conveyed through his hunger, until his touch leaves scars and burns on your soul, until you love him enough to bleed him dry.

#enhypen #enha x reader #lee heeseung #enhypen heeseung #enhypen yandere #enha #enhypen x you #enha fluff #enhypen fanfiction #heeseung #enhypen jake #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen x reader #park jongseong #jay enhypen #enhypen imagines #enha imagines #enhypen romance #stalker yandere #enhypen stalker #enhypen sunoo #enhypen suggestive #lee heesung x reader #engene #enha ff #enha sunoo #enhypen fanfic #enha heeseung #enhypen fluff #heeseung x yn

[ashton-glover]

From: [email protected] To: [email protected]

A— ...

Ashton stared at his phone, stuck, again. This must be the millionth time he was attempting to email his sister, and sorely failing.

What could he write that hasn't already been said? That won't come back undelivered? Had she changed her e-mail address like she did her phone number? Did she do it or did their parents make her do it? Do they know he'd been trying to contact her since they shipped him off to America? Is that why he couldn't get a hold of her?

In great frustration, Ashton shoved his phone at the back of his jeans, withdrawing an emptying pack of cigarettes. Or rather, cigarette. The very last. And a broken one at that. Just his fuckin' luck. He left the broken piece in the pack, wanting to make good use of it later, and lit the remaining half.

It was Tuesday evening, and Ashton was at the back alley behind the little restaurant where he worked. With Blake and Ridley busy inside, he took this time to have his fifteen-minute break before the dinner crowd rushed in. Desperate for a smoke, he didn't think he could wait until Blake's break to inhale the nicotine deep in his lungs.

Taking another drag, the tiny specks of brilliant amber crawled up the length of his cigarette, burning paper on its way, but gave him no relief to exhale. His thoughts were too disorganised, too jumbled like an itch he couldn't scratch; and the voices didn't help, either. They never help...

"Ashton! Ashton, no!!!"

The moment Ashton closed his eyes, his sister's screaming amplified in his head, instantly bringing him back to five years ago. She had sounded so terrified then, and the desperation in her voice and in her blue eyes haunted him in his sleep, even to this day.

"What have you done?! Are you alright? Ash, look at me! Are you hurt? Ashton? Ashton!!"

"Ashton..." A familiar voice echoed closer to home. "Ash!" The worry in her voice sounded too real that it snapped Ashton back to reality where he found himself facing his girlfriend, Blake, who looked horror-stricken.

"Wha—?" He heard his voice come out of his mouth but couldn't remember saying the word itself.

"What do you mean 'what'?!" Blake's emerald green eyes looked up at him in terror. "Your hand!"

Ashton looked down at his hand, and immediately understood. While there were deep crescents made against his pale palm, it was nothing compared to the fresh blood dripping from his battered knuckles. It seemed he had been punching the brick alley wall without him realising it.

Ashton blinked and saw that a couple of waitresses from the restaurant had come to peek behind the back door. They must've been on their break and saw him in his manic state. He wouldn't be surprised if they were the very same ones to call Blake for help.

"Let's get you inside and—..."

One look was all it took for Blake to understand that Ashton was in no state to work for the rest of the night.

"Okay, okay," she murmured softly, wrapping his bloodied hand with the bandana he wore. "Wait for me here, I'll tell Ben you're not well and we'll get you home, okay?"

All Ashton could do was nod, slumping onto an empty crate to sit and wait for his girlfriend. The other waitresses had left, clearly afraid of what he might do next. And while the screaming in his head never quite ceased, it dulled enough for him to calm down, enough to notice his last cigarette as it laid there on the cold, wet street, burned, crumpled, and blood-stained like the rest of him.

#[ ash glover || narrative 02 ] #[ ⚠️warning! mentions of blood & violence ]

[z0mibite]

>1000 words, detailed descriptions of violence and a (sort of?) mention of s/a (⚠️use of the r word ⚠️), reader is gn! and up to interpretation throughout other than being considerably smaller than thomas and one mention of possibly bearing children. open-ended, so if you prefer angst endings for reader or stockholm, you can choose, it's texas chainsaw massacre, anything that's in either movie is part of the warnings just to be safe. dead dove do not ear, read at your own risk. also this is not proofread in any way, I literally wrote this straight shot right before bed listening to dove (doll ver) on loop and hit post.

READ THE WARNINGS BEFORE CONTINUING

imagine tommy keeping you, not to rape and defile like his uncle assumed, nor for you to bare children like his mama had hoped—but because you're just so nice to look at.

In the first film, tommy can be seen wearing rings, jewelry he's collected from past victims. also with the whole wearing people's faces to mask his own, he obviously has an eye for pretty things. and you're one of them.

It isn't just that of course, plenty of pretty people had come onto the farm, all meeting the same fate. he hadn't spared a dozen or so others, so why would he spare you?

you hadn't flinched at the sight of him, you hadn't run away crying like a child at their first horror maze, you simply smiled at him with those sparkling eyes, an elegant hand giving him a friendly, unbiased wave. you looked at him without prejudice, or preconceived assumptions about his character.

your friends hadn't given him the same courtesy. which is why you were here, chained to the workbench near the chopping block. the block he was using to dismember your traveling companions. a few of them hung from meat hooks, catatonic, their minds were weak and feeble, they broke at the sights in front of them, and despite the agonizing pain of lost limbs and shredded muscle, they were silent and still, waiting for their turn.

death was their only escape, they needed only to wait for it. you could see it in their eyes, each time he'd finish one off and turn to grab the next off a hook, they'd all follow him with pleading eyes. not for mercy, they were far beyond the point of return—but to be next.

your entire body was shaking like a kicked chihuahua. your muscles were all tense, adrenaline begged you to run, flee, to escape death. your silly primal instinct hadn't caught up with your concious. It was an odd feeling, having every possible part of your body screaming at you to run, and choosing to stay still, to betray your instinct with your intelligence. you knew you wouldn't get far.

despite the horrid conditions in the basement, a place where your senses should be overloaded; your ears with the echoes of their screams and the engine of the saw, your eyes with the gory mess, your nose with the pungent smell of iron and rotting flesh, your tongue with the dryness of your mouth from panting, and your body's fatigue from running around for hours—there was nothing but the racing of your heartbeat.

It was all you could hear or feel, and in your mind you could taste and see it as well, you felt the pulse rise all the way into your skull and down to your toes. you felt every rush of blood heat your skin like a furnace, moving past your veins and tissue.

your eyes aimlessly followed his body, unblinking and dry. he was deeply focused on his ‘work’, but he would still glance at you every now and again. you were just so pretty, a decoration in his safe haven, like a deer mounted above the fireplace.

hours had passed in what felt like seconds before he was finished. you hadn't moved.

he nonchalantly came up to you, his much larger hand going to cup your face before he froze. he withdrew his hands, wiping the bloody mess on his apron and washing his hands before he continued his previous action.

you didn't dare move, not even to flinch, as his held your head in your hands.

his thumbs caressed the flesh just under your eyes, rubbing around and about, seemingly fascinated by the way your skin folded and stretched at his will. he made a gesture with his hands, swiping a palm in front of your eyes, an attempt at communicating. when you didn't respond, he huffed frustratedly before letting his thumbs touch your eyelids, forcing them down to close your eyes.

he took your chin in-between two fingers, maneuvering your head in every direction, studying every feature. his thumb pulled your lips apart, showing him your teeth, clenched so hard they might be pushed back underneath your eye sockets.

after a he took some time to study you, you felt his thumbs come back to rest on your eyelids, pulling them open again. this time he studied your iris. he was clearly upset at the lack of light that prevented him from seeing the color clearly, but he looked closely nonetheless.

the sensation of breath enveloping your face, forcing you to breathe in the air he had just released, was one you could not describe.

his hands fell to your shoulders and moved downward till he got to your forearms, where he would trace the veins in your arms. when his hand met your wrist, he applied gentle pressure to it, his breath hitching as he felt your blood pulsate. he moved onto your hands now.

his were easily twice the size of yours, if not more. his nails were dull and blunt, the skin much rougher against yours. dried blood cracked underneath his nails and stained his skin a pinkish tone despite his tan. he traced the lines of your palm the same way a palm reader would, take away the tales of life lines and replace them with pure admiration.

he unexpectedly leaned in closer to you, his face now inches, if that, from your own. you kept your gaze ahead as he stared you down.

he brought his masked nose up to the top of your head and sniffed you like a dog, leaning down to your neck to see what else he could smell on you besides your faded fragrance and sweat.

It was only after this action of his that your body responded in any way in nearly 12 hours.

#thomas hewitt x y/n #thomas hewitt x you #thomas hewitt tcm #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #tommy hewitt #tcm 2006 #tcm the beginning #tcm #tcm 2003 #tcm fanfic #the texas chainsaw massacre #texas chainsaw massacre x reader #texas chainsaw massacre the beginning #texas chainsaw massacre #texas chainsaw massacre fanfic #slashers x reader #slasher x reader #slasher fanfiction #slashers #slasher imagine

[spicybunni]

❤️ASHLEY AS A HUSBAND❤️

Hello darlings!! These are a few headcanons of my yandere OC Ashley, the mob boss who can’t get enough of you. Hope you like him!

WARNINGS ⚠️: NSFW MENTIONS, SMUT, YANDERE TENDENCIES, FORCED MARRIAGE, VIOLENCE (not to reader), BLOOD MENTION

❤️Before we get into it, The marriage was not consensual by any means on your end. Ashley forced you saying it’s for your own good and that you and your family will be safe. Which sounded like a threat more than anything. You agreed to it only for the sake that he doesn’t harm your loved ones.

❤️He forced you because the word of his infatuation with you, a local waiter, got out to his rivals. He didn’t want to ruin your life with violence. So he decided to ruin it with a forced marriage.

❤️As a husband, Ashley was very traditional. He would come home after doing business. Sometimes with a little blood on his clothes or some skinned knuckles from throwing punches.

❤️Regardless of how he looked he would come to you before anything else and give you a kiss on the cheek. Ask you about your day and sit down in the living room.

❤️Your stomach would flip whenever he came near you with blood on his suit. Looking like a damn maniac with a smile on his face indifferent to whoever’s blood is splattered on him as he hugs you.

❤️He was more than happy to consummate the marriage after half a year living together. You hated him and everything he stood for, but your feelings, being cooped up in the mansion, and the way his stupid hair falls on his face as he looks at you- it all has gotten to you!

❤️Ashley couldn’t get enough after that. But his number one rule was to always have you come to him for it. Sometimes you would just awkwardly come into the living room, face flushed and lightly sweating as you avert your gaze. You’d place a hand on his shoulder as he sat in the armchair. He’d look up from either the paper or book he’s reading, smirk at your state, and take your hand upstairs.

❤️Ashley couldn’t care less about how adorably awkward you are downstairs when in the bedroom your ass bounces off his dick so divine.

❤️His plan was to tease you with how good it felt when you gave into your desires. Rubbing the head of his cock on your soaking entrance, holding your legs down in a press. Ashley’s erection would become painfully more hard when you let out whines and begs for him to get on with it.

❤️Least to say you were so cock drunk that you could care less in the moment if he came inside you.

❤️ This man is rough to say the least, but you love it. The way he holds your head down as your ass is in the air being pounded by him. His belt being used to tie your hands to the headboard of the bed while he does sinful things down below.

❤️DO NOT CATCH AN ATTITUDE WITH HIM❌ it will end in you drooling into the sheets as your body gets an pleasurable attitude adjustment.

“Sweetie, sweetie-Hey. Look at me while I make you a mess you hear me? That’s it. Atta darlin’…ah-fuck!”

❤️Even though he coats your insides to the brim with cum, he cleans you up nicely. He’ll grab a towel from the connected bathroom and wipe your sweat while you come down from your bliss.

❤️After two years being forcefully married, your life was actually simplified. No need to stress on bills, you actually had a chance at doing your little hobbies, and you can afford all the foods you’d like to cook. Ashley also would gift you clothes you liked instead of repurposing rags for your uniforms and pajamas. He would whistle when you’d walk out of the changing rooms in a new outfit. Making you do slow twirls for him.

❤️There were times where logic would come back into your mind to tell you this dynamic wasn’t right, you had to leave.

❤️But Ashley will never let that happen. His protocol if you were to ever try and escape is that all his men would be on the lookout for you, then have all his patrons in the district report to him if they spotted you.

❤️Ashley would never hurt you, but in a scenario where you tried to escape he would isolate you to a single bedroom for a month. It would take lots of time to earn his trust again after that.

❤️But that’s all hypotheticals for now….

#yandere #yandere imagines #yandere x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere x gender neutral reader #yandere x gn reader #yandere mob boss #yandere smut

[queers-gambit]

"Plan To Make A Gift of It To My Lover"

prompt: ten years ago, Lucerys claimed Aemond's eye, and now, a Lannister will claim her debt.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Lannister!wife!reader

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 5.5k+

note: i use 'lover' because it sounds like the original line, 'mother'. also, what the fuck is this, Cherry?

warnings: very much not for minors! deranged characters? blood lust? depiction of grotesque, unhinged behavior. there's cursing, depiction of canon-typical violence and injury, show timeline and spoilers that lead into some VAGUE book references that might produce a slight AU timeline...? character death, obviously Team Green, so, there's some Team Black slander. half edited!

⚠️ season one, episode ten AND book spoilers

PLEASE BE AWARE I AM GOING TO MERGE THIS ONESHOT INTO A SMALL SERIES BUT WILL STILL LEAVE THIS UP

I AM CHANGING LANNISTER READER INTO A VELARYON READER

Rain water beaded against his leather trench overcoat, rolling off him like pellets to leave a scattered trail on the material. His boots splashed in the muddy terrain, dark castle looming tall in the stormy sky, and Mother Nature voiced her displeasure in the form of booming claps of thunder throughout the raging storm.

Long, straight hair turned unruly and crinkled in the torrential downpour; sticking to clothes and clinging to skin. His sword was latched to his weapons belt, bobbing on his hip with every stride he took to approach the Keep of The Stormlands, Storm's End.

"Identify yourself!" A guard shouted through the haze of rain.

You smirked, "Prince Aemond Targaryen, second son of King Viserys Targaryen, the Peaceful, and rider of Vhagar along with his wife, Lady Lannister."

The guards exchanged looks, then the other asked, "What business do you have here?"

"Official business that surely goes beyond your responsibility," you snapped. "We require an audience with your liege lord. Is Lord Borros in? Willing to receive? You'd do well to answer quickly, Vhagar isn't known for her patience - nor is my husband and I."

There was no dispute in leading you into the castle's throne room, members of court lingering in curiosity when they saw the One Eyed Dragon Prince and his Lady Lioness prowl through Storm's End. Lightning struck to flash through the cracks of the eery castle, creating an uneasy atmosphere and making Storm's End feel spookier then it probably was. Aemond smirked when you looked around the semi-empty throne room, the guards instructing you to stay put as their lord was fetched; you looking positively bored.

"You seem to have a natural liking towards our new status, do you not, my lioness?" He mused softly. "The way you commanded the guards to retrieve their Lord for us was very telling of your ease."

"Perhaps. Though I do not like the reason we are here, flexing our status in the first place," you told him with a sharp look. "Surely, there's other alliances to be made, Aemond. Why marry you off to some plain-faced Baratheon bitch?"

"Because war's come for us and we must all sacrifice for the cause," he sighed, staring at you without so much as twitching; letting you approach until standing chest-to-chest. "We require this pact, my love, because we must strengthen Aegon's claim. To use Daeron and I as marriage pawns feels logical given our proximity to the King."

You snarled, "You told me yourself that Aegon did not deserve to be King. Now, we must sacrifice our marriage vows for his claim?"

"I know it is not ideal," he relented, "but it's our current reality."

"Only for now, I sense the tides will turn several times before this is fucking over."

"Hmm."

When Lord Borros finally arrived, he appeared disgruntled by the abrupt arrival of you and your husband, Prince Aemond. He was grouchy, but still welcoming enough; slumped in his chair, eyeing you both, mentioning, "This must be of grave importance to arrive in such a manner, with no warning."

"It is," Aemond answered smoothly, "because war has come to shadow Westeros once more, my Lord."

"Is that so?"

"King Viserys is dead," he informed clearly, "and as such, the natural succession would've passed to the King's named heir, Princess Rhaenyra, but King VIserys had a change of heart. Instead of his daughter, the King wanted his first born son, Aegon II, to ascend the Iron Throne after him."

"And that's to do with me...?"

"The Princess will demand your loyalty, Lord Borros," you stepped in, "to uphold a stale oath your father made decades ago. Come the day, you will be forced to pick sides; yet we simply would like to offer you terms of consideration before hearing Rhaenyra's."

"If the Princess is willing to offer terms, that is," Aemond punctuated.

Borros sat still, then leaned in slightly, "And what are these terms you wish to offer, girl?"

"My Lady-wife has earned the title Princess, my Lord," Aemond corrected sharply, "and will be addressed as such."

Borros nodded stiffly, "Of course, my apologies."

"No matter," you assured. "Tell me, Lord Borros, do you not have unwed daughters?"

"I do, a gaggle of them."

You smirked, "My husband, though not King, is of ancient and rich Valyrian blood. He is happy to uphold customs of his ancestors by taking another wife - so, we offer a marriage pact in exchange for your swords and banners."

"And what of you?"

"What of me?"

"You would just let your husband wed another woman?"

"Who am I to question the will of the Gods?" You mused, figuring you wouldn't tell him how Aemond had already promised never to bed the Baratheon girl. "Should they smile upon this union, so would I. My father, may he rest in peace, before his passing ensured to instill in me a sense of duty and honor, Lord Borros, and with this civil war, we might all do our part to see the end of it."

He hummed, eyeing you both. "All right," Borros half-agreed, "but which of my daughters, hmm? I've four of them - uh," he snapped, "what is this? Someone fetch the girls! Let the Prince see - he may choose to wed whichever he deems acceptable."

"Do we have a deal, Lord Borros?" You asked.

He nodded, "Pending the Princess' terms - my father did swear fealty to Princess Rhaenyra, I would do well to honor that by at least hearing her."

"A noble answer," you accepted.

It wasn't a long wait for his four daughters to arrive, an even shorter wait for Aemond to make a decision. There was Cassandra, Maris, Ellyn, and Flora Baratheon - all ripe for the picking. "Well?" Aemond asked you.

You shrugged, "This is your choice, you're the one who has to bed her." His lips twitched in amusement, eyeing the women stood in a straight line. "Fuck's sake - why not kiss them all and chose that way? Leaves less room for surprise later. Plus what're the odds Rhaenyra's sent her envoy? We should solidify Baratheon's loyalty now."

Aemond chuckled, looking each woman over carefully as a guard entered the room. "My Lord," he called, earning the attention, "another dragon has been spotted and is approaching the Keep."

"What did I fucking say?" You smirked at Aemond.

"Receive whoever it is," Borros permitted. "And you? Have you come to a decision? My girl, Maris, there, would make a clever wife."

"I've one clever enough wife and would be overrun with another," Aemond answered wistfully. "The Lady Flora is acceptable."

"Very well," Borros nodded, "and the terms of dowry?"

You watched as Aemond pulled Flora from the line of sisters, standing to the side as he examined her. He told Lord Baratheon the number of Gold Dragons he thought his daughter was worth, the two haggling lightly over prices before Borros accepted that with the threat of war, his son might become preoccupied, so, the seat of Storm's End would be inherited by Aemond and Flora's children.

Thunder rumbled as a deal was struck.

Boots marched down the stone hall and all conversation ceased to await the newcomer with taunt curiosity. Aemond subtly turned to look at you, ignoring his pretty new intended, as a procession of guards marched into the gloomy room. You boldly stared at the arrival, feeling your heart stall in your chest when you saw it was him... That bastard... The Strong Bastard that mutilated both you and your husband a decade ago.

"Prince Lucerys Velaryon," it was announced, marching coming to an echoing halt. Aemond chose that moment to turn and present himself to the young prince who haunted your every living and dreaming nightmare. He looked startled to see you both there, the guard ending, "Son of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen."

Against the thundering storm, Lucerys spoke timidly - as if, any louder and his voice would squeak and crack. "Lord Borros... I brought you a message from my mother... The Queen."

"Yet earlier this day, I received an envoy from the King," Borros shot at the young prince. "Which is it? King or Queen? The House of the Dragon does not seem to know who rules it." He laughed at his own joke, but when none others joined, he asked Lucerys stoically, "What's your mother's message?"

The Strong Bastard just held up a scroll like the spoilt brat he was, a guard taking it from his fingers to walk it to the Stag Lord since the Prince deemed himself too important to hand deliver the message. Lord Borros sighed when he took up the scroll, looking expectingly to his court, then snapping, "Where's the bloody Maester?"

Lord Borros Baratheon could not read, you see.

So, you all waited as the Maester was retrieved; Lucerys sparing spooked looks at you and Aemond - the latter of whom just smirked in amusement. Luke couldn't truly see the disfigurement he caused, but your scars almost glittered in the flashes of lightning to assure him they were right where he left them. You turned to your husband, whispering in his ear, "Remember all those times when you promised me his eye as a gift? When shall we be presented an opportunity such as now?"

He shushed you with a restrained smirk, wanting so bad to entertain your banter - and daydream about doing to Luke what he did to you two. You told Aemond you didn't need Luke to bear a scar like your own, and that's when he promised to give you the Prince's eye.

The Maester arrived when Luke felt uneasy enough to palm a fist around the hilt of his sword, elderly man hobbling up to Lord Borros, taking the scroll, then reading it.

The Maester bent to summarize the letter to his Lord. You smirked at Aemond when Borros snapped, "'Remind' me of my father's oath? King Aegon at least came with an offer: my swords and banners for a marriage pact! If I do as your mother bids," he leaned forward on his throne, looking to the side, asking, "which one of my daughters will you wed... Boy?"

"My Lord," Lucerys trembled, "I am not free to marry. I'm already betrothed."

"I did not realize betrothal was weighed heavier than marriage," Borros sneered, indicating to you and Aemond, "which means you come with empty hands. Go home, pup, and tell your mother that the Lord of Storm's End is not some dog that she can whistle up at need to set against her foes."

There was a beat as his words sunk in.

"I shall take your answer to the Queen, my Lord," Lucerys informed, sparing everyone one last look before turning on his heel to vacate.

Yet he couldn't just walk away so easily.

"Wait," Aemond called out loud before you could, the Prince halting, "my Lord Strong." You grinned when Luke turned fully and then stepped forward to the edge of his guarded protection, a look of disbelief adorning his features. "Did you really think that you could just fly about the Realm," he continued, taking a few slow, stalking steps forward with you on his flank and Floris stepping further away, "trying to steal my brother's throne at no cost?"

"I will not fight you," Lucerys declared. "I came as a messenger, not a warrior."

You giggled to mock the boy's sword skill, wanting to hurt the boy's ego as much as possible. Your husband smirked at you before musing, "A fight would be little challenge." He paused to consider his options. "No," he told Lucerys, reaching for his eye patch and pulling the leather from his head. "I want you to put out your eye," He growled, staring at Luke, sapphire winking in the low torchlight; his arm coiling around your waist to keep you at his side. He explained, "As payment for mine. One will serve," and he flipped back his leather overcoat to reveal a dagger, yanking it free to toss across the distance at Lucerys. It clattered and skidded, the sound ominous between the claps and rolling booms of thunder. "I would not blind you," he told the boy. Then, as if concealing a smirk, he finished, "Plan To Make A Gift of It To My Lover."

The ground shook violently when Vhagar landed outside the Driftmark Dragon Pit. The air whooshed your hair back, little feet stumbling back a few paces into the rock wall, hair on the back of your neck standing on end when Aemond dismounted the beast. It wasn't as if you weren't proud or incredibly impressed by his ability to claim the oldest dragon in the known world, but you weren't a Targaryen and dragons made you uneasy.

You could understand animals had minds of their own, and while, yes, Targaryens were closer to Gods than Men because they fly on dragons, you knew they did not control the dragons. They merely domesticated the winged terrors, but you knew the animal could snap at any moment's notice. You didn't like being so close as to become an accidental casualty, so you waited in the mouth of the Pit to give plenty of room between you and Vhagar.

"Well? How was it?"

Aemond beamed at you, "Like nothing I've ever experienced before."

"She's much, much bigger up close," you eyed the dragon watching you both. She was too large in size for the Dragon Pit, but for you, it was a way back into the Driftmark Castle; so, Vhagar was left to her own devices as you and Aemond strode inside.

"You'll have to come flying with me."

"No, no, I like the ground very much. It's safer down here."

"You'll love flying, I can all but promise you."

"If the Gods wanted me in the air, they'd of made me a Targaryen," you teased, both entering the torch-lit passage. "Alas, I am not, so, I think it wise to keep my feet on the ground."

"I'll get you on dragonback with me one day," he smirked. "She's the oldest, you know, and the largest, too."

"I know," you beamed in amusement.

"And she's mine," he whispered, shaking his head and fighting off his grin. You looped your arm with his, giggling your praise over his display of bravery; entering the division foyer of the Pit only to spy Prince Daemon Targaryen's daughters, Baela and Rhaena, with Princess Rhaenyra's sons, Jacerys and Lucerys Velaryon.

"It's them!" One barked.

"It's us," Aemond sneered quickly, understanding confrontation when he felt it. You didn't like this... Something about this exchange felt very wrong; there was four of them, two of you, and you were not their blood relative - so, why be involved at all?

"Vhagar is my mother's dragon!" Rhaena seethed.

"Your mother's dead," Aemond reminded sharply.

You smirked, tacking on, "And Vhagar has a new rider now."

"She was mine to claim!"

"Then you should've claimed her!" You barked in annoyance. "You are not the only dragon-less Targaryen, but you're the one who expects to just be gifted one!"

Aemond sneered right after you, "Maybe your cousins can gift you a pig to ride. It would suit you."

This (rightfully) angered the girls. Rhaena charged and latched onto Aemond but was easily swatted to the ground. At that same moment, her twin, Baela, took the opportunity to jab her knuckle into your nose, sending you into the dirt. "Fuck's sake!" You snapped, Aemond clocking the injury and slamming his fist against Baela's cheek to send her into the dirt, too.

Aemond helped you to your feet as he snarled at the girls, "Come at us again and I'll feed you to my dragon!"

Jace charged, and from there, it was a blur of adrenaline. Before you understood, you were defending yourself from a hurricane of fists and feet; reaching up to grab hold of Rhaena's locs and yank as hard as you could. It gave you a small advantage to get up, see the three others beating on Aemond, and rushed for the fray.

The Prince saw you and pause his resistance to let you grab hold of Baela - also pulling her so hard, a loc or two might've been ripped from her scalp. Aemond kicked Jace, you sent the girls into the dirt, and Aemond managed to catch hold of Lucerys by the throat as he got to his feet. Aemond's hand found purchase on a large rock, standing above them all as you panted from his side; rock raised in threat.

"You will die screaming in flames, just as your father did!" Aemond declared, snarling, "Bastards."

Through his whimpering, Luke sobbed, "My father's still alive!"

For a moment, Aemond appeared disarmed, but then sneered, "He doesn't know, does he? Lord Strong?"

This upset Prince Jacerys enough that he brandished a concealed dagger from his sleeve; holding it at the ready, ignoring his cousin's pleas of his name. "Blade in play," you warned Aemond.

Luke was kicked away, Jace was dodged, disarmed, then shoved to the ground. You were all bruised, bloodied, beaten; thinking that despite twice the numbers, you and Aemond managed to hold your own pretty damn well. The Prince lifted the rock again, this time with his sights set on Jace, ignoring Luke scrambling in the dirt.

Pretty damn well until it was too late.

You screamed in absolute horror when a white hot pain flashed across your face when you meant to turn away from the fight. You went down, Aemond looked over in shock and confusion, and in that moment, Lucerys swung his brother's blade again. It cut through half of Aemond's face, the eye being severed in two; blood gushing between both your hands.

Of course, this was the time the White Cloaks arrived - but it was too late. The damage was done. You sobbed uselessly as the knights tried to help you off the ground, trembling violently as adrenaline wore off. You were instantly escorted to the castle's throne room where the Maester and other attendants met you.

Guards posted.

Blood soaked into cloth.

The Queen arrived with the Hand before anyone else - instantly demanding her son (and you) be attended to at once. She listened to the shaky account of events, but it was difficult to get an accurate picture as you and Aemond were both preoccupied with being medically attended to.

You held Aemond's hand as you were both cleaned up. There was nothing to save, Aemond's eye removed and your face being pinched and stitched. Nearly 200 years from now, one of your descendants will earn nearly the exact same scar during the Battle of the Blackwater; a mark that cut through the face from temple, over the nose, to opposite ear.

You listened to the spoiled brats spin their webs, opting to remain quiet in the presence of the King.

However, after Princess Rhaenyra finally showed up with Prince Daemon, after Lord Corlys Velaryon and Lady Rhaenys Targaryen arrived, attention shifted.

" - Didn't just mutilate our son, but the Lady Lannister as well!" Alicent raged.

King Viserys eyed you as if seeing you for the first time, slowly approaching. "My Lady," he spoke softly, "you have not yet said a word this evening."

"It is not my place, Your Grace."

"It is now," he permitted. "Speak, and tell me the truth of it. What happened tonight?"

You swallowed nervously, "The Prince Aemond claimed his dragon, Vhagar, Your Grace, and upon returning, the... Uh, well, the Princes Jacerys and Lucerys along with their cousins, Ladies Rhaena and Baela, were waiting for us."

"Waiting?" Viserys repeated.

"Yes, Your Grace, I believe they wanted to see who had claimed Vhagar," you offered.

"Who hit who first?"

With a sigh, you answered, "Lady Baela hit Prince Aemond first. A solid hook, for whatever it's worth."

Alicent now approached, squatting in front of you and asking, "How did you sustain such injury, Lady Lannister? Come... Speak the truth. Tell us the meaning of this."

"Prince Jacerys brought the blade, Your Grace," you mumbled, "but it was lost in the scuffle. It was Prince Lucerys who offered injury to both Prince Aemond and I."

You could've cried when Rhaenyra, as usual, managed to somehow spin your story into making her sons the victims. Despite being told the four ambushed you two, they weren't even reprimanded because their parents were all so angry that it truly distracted from the present situation at hand. In the end, Queen Alicent snapped and charged to attack, but the Princess Rhaenyra intercepted her before damage could be done.

The blade Alicent stole from her husband's belt was dropped - but not before the tip sliced into the flesh of the Princess' forearm. You were fuming, watching them all leave; you had been seriously maimed, and so far, you had been the one spoken to as if a criminal. Rhaenyra would need stitches, sure, and a broken nose was the worst of their injuries - but Aemond lost his eye, and you?

You felt as if you lost your life because who the hell would want you now? With this scar? This big, fat, noticeable scar that split your face? Sure, your Lannister name would get you places - but not everywhere. Considering your young age, this only left time for rumors to fester and for everyone to notice your injury; being no escape and no where to hide from ridicule.

For years, you would consider yourself damaged. For years, you would mourn yourself. For years, you would sharpen your mind, wit, and intelligence because if you couldn't bring standard "beauty" to the table, you wanted to be able to offer something redeeming.

For years, you would undergo emotional turmoil before your engagement to Aemond is announced; convincing yourself you did not deserve love because your anger made you likened to a shrew. You felt ugly on the outside, ugly on the inside; a product of your environment and experiences. When the promise of marrying your best mate was bestowed, the entire court was shocked by the 180 you both did; where once stony and stoic, both were now soft and kind - but only to one another.

To everyone else, you were both still stony and indifferent. But to each other? You and Aemond would move mountains.

Yet that night on Driftmark would haunt for you for the rest of your lives; no matter the promise of love, marriage, and a 'normal' life. Late nights would be held together, fantasizing about your revenge; considering the future in which you made Lucerys Strong pay for what he did to you.

"Plan To Make A Gift of It To My Lover."

"No," Lucerys barked, looking distraught by the sheer idea of what Aemond demanded. His answer made the amusement drain from Aemond's features, this was a man not often told no. His hand passed you his eye patch for safe keeping; the raging storm outside portraying the tension brewing in the throne room of Storm's End.

"Then you are craven as well as a traitor."

"Not here!" Borros understood fighting words when he heard them - not wanting the repercussions of a dead or injured Prince Lucerys, because, let's face it, Luke couldn't do damage to Aemond even if he tried.

Aemond literally sprang into action, releasing his grip on you, shouting as he strode forward. "Give me your eye," he stooped to snatch his dagger from the ground, "or I will take it, bastard!"

Lucerys brandished his sword for protection, but Borros launched out of his seat to intervene by shouting, "Not in my hall!" This made Aemond skid to a halt. "The boy came an an envoy. I'll not have bloodshed beneath my roof. Take Prince Lucerys back to his dragon... Now."

You smirked when Aemond just watched the boy flee the hall, hand flipping his dagger expertly before sheathing it. You met his gaze, holding prolonged eye contact to publicly show you were not afraid of him, his looks, his lack of eye, or adoration for him.

"Well, Lord Borros," you mused, turning to the Stag Lord, "looks as if you've chosen in this war."

He huffed, "We can discuss specifics later."

Aemond nodded, "We'll be off."

"Do not - "

"You said no blood shed under your roof," you reminded, "not above."

"The Prince is young and small - "

"We gave him a fair head start." Borros looked ready to rebuttal, but you snapped, "We're at war, my Lord. Either you let the dragons fight in the skies or it'll be your men fighting in the trenches. The choice is yours."

"See that? His woman bites harder than he," Maria scoffed to her sisters, only juuuuust loud enough for her voice to carry across the room. Then she snarled at your husband, "Tell me, Prince Aemond, was it just your eye Prince Lucerys took, or one of your balls, too? You threw a dagger at him and stopped when Daddy said stop," her eyes rolled, "those are not qualities of a man."

You were ready to attack. In fact, you started striding up to Maris when Aemond intercepted you swiftly with a suffocatingly strong grip. "We've more important matters," he reminded you, turning, and promising to send word to Lord Borros before disappearing out of the side door.

"How dare she," you seethed on your way to Vhagar. "That buck-tooth looking rodent dares insult you? Her own Prince? In front of others - oh, the nerve of that family!"

"Bigger picture at work here, love," Aemond mused as he fixed his patch back on, never one to address the things that were bothering him - like when someone hurt his feelings or bullied him over his missing eye.

But you were always ready to bite those that offered insult. You were a Lion in a golden cage, after all.

You grumbled the entire time, reaching Vhagar, launching as discreetly as she possibly could to scan the skies. It wasn't easy to find the Prince because his dragon blended into the storm so perfectly, but once the tiny beast was located, you were locked on. You rode behind Aemond in his saddle, both being harnessed to prevent any unseating; the combined weight never phasing his ol' girl. Vhagar understood they were in some kind of chase, and when she gave a grumble that rumbled over the thunder you flew through, Aemond gave her a command in High Valyrian to quiet herself.

You could see glimpses of Luke turning to search areas you had just vacated; loving this game of cat and mouse. You hoped the anticipation and anxiety of being watched was upsetting the Prince - just so he had a little bit of emotional trauma from this, you know? Just so he had a little taste of the emotional turmoil you had to suffer the past decade.

"Ready?" Aemond asked you.

You squeezed his waist before boldly reaching down to palm his cock through his breeches, hissing in his ear, "Do it, you owe me a gift."

Aemond grinned and directed Vhagar to circle around and fly forward until almost colliding with Lucerys - should he not've steered Arrax lower at the last moment. The close call was enough to make you both laugh, the sound traveling over the noisy nature. Aemond turned Vhagar again, trying to snatch at Arrax with her talons while your husband hurled insults and taunting phrases as his nephew.

With a small groan, you reached for a separate piece of the saddle to hold onto while Aemond drove Vhagar into a nosedive after the smaller dragon. When they came up to a cavern of sea rocks, Aemond was forced to pull Vhagar back before she could crash - but Arrax had no issue navigating into and through the canyon. You were forced to fly above it, searching for your prey once more.

Lucerys seemed to evade you for a time.

"What happens when we find him?"

"I will have the bastard's eye," he reminded you.

"Yes, but what if he resists?"

"Of course he will."

"So you mean to kill him? Is that the plan, Aemond?"

He did not answer you, looking over Vhagar's sides for his prey. He shouted in High Valyrian, "You owe a debt! Boy!"

Suddenly, from your left, Arrax descended upon Vhagar with a vicious spewing of fire that licked your flesh hatefully. Aemond flinched back into your chest, trying to shield yourselves from the heat of the flames, but it was too late. You cried out, whimpering with discomfort when the flames died; marring and mangling your skin. Prince Lucerys was heard scolding his dragon, and for a moment, you felt as if you could see the future because there was no way Vhagar was going to let that kind of disrespect occur and do nothing about it.

The ol' girl gave a rumble before bellowing after Arrax. She turned herself to where the other dragon had disappeared and started to push off as her owner begged and pleaded with her not to. "Serve me, Vhagar, no!" He commanded, desperate to keep his beast under control, but being evident these two wild animals were in an altercation all their own and meant to follow their instinct.

"We want his head still, Vhagar!" You laughed loudly, Aemond growling with a smirk.

"Do not encourage her!"

"Do not try to domesticate a 180-year-old dragon!" You gave a small whoop of excitement. "She's a Dragon of War, Aemond! Violence is what she knows!"

He grunted as he struggled with the reins. However, Vhagar ignored him and made her own turn, pumping her wings twice and then breaking into the morning sun above the storm. For a fleeting moment, it was incredibly gorgeous to be so high in the sky...

And then it was over before anyone could stop it.

Vhagar opened her mouth and gave one chomp around the body of boy and dragon. There was a shrill cry of fear before Vhagar's moan of content, then eery silence settled as half-consumed bits fell to the ground beneath.

"Well," you cleared your throat, staring at the bloody bits falling, "if it wasn't enough that Aegon took her crown, surely, the two of us taking her son will be the push Rhaenyra needs to meet us in conflict."

"No," he cleared his throat, "you were not here - "

"I was, I would not allow you to bear this burden on your own. To take the blame," you met his eye. "I encouraged this just as much, and Rhaenyra will know it was us - she'd never believe I was not involved."

"Can you not be logical right now?" He trembled, leaning his forehead to yours.

"Okay..." You whispered, "Well, could we go see if there's anything left?"

"That's morbid, my love."

"What? You're the one who promised me his eye. I know you didn't mean for this, but the truth is," you smirked, "you did. You knew what pursuing him would result in - your dragon doesn't understand your need for revenge, she understands eat or be eaten."

Aemond sighed, "Too soon for that phrase."

"Noted. Now, c'mon," you encouraged, giving his waist a squeeze. "I know you're curious to see what's left, too."

And he was, so Aemond directed Vhagar back down. It was difficult to predict where the body parts could've ended up, but seemingly, luck was on your side and you descended to the shore. There was a small scattering of remains, bits being washed up or away with every new lap of sea water.

You dismounted and started searching through the remnants, storm still outlandishly raging around you. "Love?" Aemond spoke from behind you, making you jump slightly. He smirked, "Got something for you, my Lioness."

"You do not..." He held up the messily decapitated head of Lucerys "Velaryon", your laugh surprising and genuine. "Oh, we're sooo going to Seven Hells," you sighed, shrugging, "but you know, it doesn't really get worse than what we've already done, so," you motioned for him to set the head down.

"Here," he agreed, using his dagger to harvest Lucerys' eyeballs from the skull you helped hold. When he was done, you chucked the head away before Aemond's bloody hands set both eyes in your cupped, outstretched palms; watching you weigh them.

"You know, Lannisters always pay their debts," you mused, smirk pulling at your lips, "but we also are always repaid our debts. How strange, to hold his eyes and think they were once functioning... In his head, of use, probably full of tears when Vhagar chased him in the sky."

"Hm," Aemond considered, then pointed to your hand. "It's with his eyes, I promise you, my Lioness, the fall of our enemies." He proclaimed, then musing, "Should we give Maris Baratheon one to prove ourselves?"

You smirked, "She said you must've lost your balls, right?"

"Almost positive Vhagar ate Lucerys' so we cannot present her with them."

"Damnit," you pouted. "All right, fine, sure, we might show the Baratheon's we mean war... But I'd like to keep them both, please."

"What are you going to do with them?"

"Put them in a jar and keep until I'm no longer angry about what he did to us..."

"So, his eyes are going on our mantle?"

"You bet your sweet balls," you grinned, twirling Lucerys Velaryon's Strong's organs in your hand like a pair of game dice.

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

#aemond targaryen #prince aemond targaryen #prince aemond #aemond the kinslayer #aemond #aemond one eye #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #hotd aemond #hotd fandom #hotd #hotd fanfic #hotd imagine #hotd x reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon hbo #hbo house of the dragon #hbo hotd #hotd hbo #aemond targaryen x reader #prince aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x f!reader #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond x you

[alastorsfuckassbob]

Killing Me Softly- 4

AlastorxFem!Reader part 4

A/N: Ok so this is..uh LONG but its finally here!!! Val's text is in purple, yours is in blue, and Alastor's is red! As always bolded portions are the past..Yes I did revert to using another song sue me. As always: MINORS DNI

Plot: Valentino is a piece of shit You and Al are so shitty at feelings and communication..thats basically it.

⚠️Warnings:⚠️

-Sexual innuendos (they aren't graphic but they are spicy)

-Domestic abuse (this got a lot worse so please be mindful of that and use your own discretion- you are responsible for your internet consumption)

-Alcohol use AND abuse

-Violence!! ~mentions of blood~

-A LOT of cursing 🤠

 You had decided to take “small nap” to rid your body of the final remnants of exhaustion from night before. That so called “small nap” somehow lasted a good ten hours, leaving you with only two before you needed to arrive at the club again. You sat on the edge of your bathroom counter, the excess silky fabric of your slip cascading over the edge. You grab a stray eyeshadow pallet and begin to apply your makeup. You had decided on an inky toned smoky eye and a lightly lined liquid lip. It was a bit different from your usual look, but it complemented your new wardrobe perfectly. You glanced over at the folded scarlet fabric, excited to wear it again. 

You had decided to get ready at home today. Angel wasn’t working tonight, so there was no sense in being at the club earlier than you really needed to be. You snapped your fingers, and the shadow behind you began to style your h/c hair in his place. It wasn’t often Angel didn’t have to work on a Saturday night. Even in Hell, weekends came with higher foot traffic. Val insisted he had earned a break after yesterday’s long shoot. It was a rare occasion but not entirely out of character. Val couldn’t break his favorite toy.

After a few more pins, the shadow dawned a bright smile and jazz hands upon completing your hair. You looked absolutely gorgeous, the pitch black entity had done a fantastic job. Your hair was twisted into bouncy side swept curls adorned with tiny sparkling gems. You wanted to meticulously appreciate the effort it had so graciously put in, but your guilt riddled conscience kept you from any real form of enjoyment. 

 You needed to stop thinking of him. The more you let yourself fall back on memory, the more you would love him. The more you loved him ,the more it would hurt when he realized he couldn’t love you anymore. It wasn’t his fault, no one could. This was your penance. It wasn’t supposed to be easy. 

Memory had sunk its claws into your wrist. It hopelessly dragged you along by its blood lined chains and scarlet stained fingertips like an old desperate beggar. The hold Valentino had on your soul was insubstantial in comparison to the grasp Alastor had on your heart. You didn’t understand why that was. Val was your whole life, and he would be until eternity itself figured out a way to die.  It would make sense for him to reside in the core of your thought, but he didn’t, he never stayed there long.

 Unlike Alastor,  Val owned you. 

Unlike Alastor, he was there 

Unlike Alastor, 

you could actually feel his lips on your skin.

He had a predictable consistency to him. It was always the same constant battle between his unquenchable hatred and guilty heart. 

Val  insisted he “loved” you in his own way.  From the shackles on your wrists, he had tied you to the stake-All so that he could look for your love. He struck the match against your skin, and lit you both ablaze because he hated that he wanted it. In the end it would never matter how many times the heat touched your skin, it wasn’t going to feel like love.      

You knew what that was supposed to feel like. You had shared your heart with a great many souls in your time on Earth. Love was bathed in forgiveness and brushed with magnolia petal kisses. That love didn’t see you through eyes lined with antagonism, sparkled with fury and blended out with shades of exasperation.

 Valentino did. 

His lips were colored in hot pink brutality. It would smear across your skin with every kiss. He would leave you haloed in messy lipstick stain bruises and be on his way.

 His absence never lasted long. The color in his cheeks was permanently rouged with the lethality of your figure. Eventually, the guilt would seep through his pores, and the chemical reaction would wash his face of your blood. He would return with a silver plated tin bracelet and a few mangled words of affirmation. 

“ Y/n, you know I love you. I didn’t mean a word of it Mi Amore. You are the most beautiful demon this side of hell. I just get so upset sometimes there’s nothing else I can do. I can’t control my anger Amorcito, you know that.”

It’s not that he couldn’t control his anger, he was fully capable. He just didn’t. He never thought it was important to try. Even in his time on Earth, he didn’t care to put forth the effort. He was born with distain and died with detestation. He had always been this way. The guilt he felt afterward would never amount to the freedom found in his bloodied hands. There wasn't a finite limit to the apologies he could patch the holes he punched into your heart with. In the end, it wouldn’t matter. Any remorse he felt would slip from his conscience like every instance before it. It made sense how quickly he was able to rise into over lord status.

  Your focus shifts to the cherry fabric folded beside of you. You haphazardly grab the dress, lifting it over your head. Its crystal beads babbling in your ear as you slide it on. For a moment, the ghost of your human body silhouettes your demonic figure in the mirror.  Distant memories began to bubble up to the surface. In the true spirit of avoidance, you hopelessly shut them out as you grabbed your satin purse and walked out the door. 

As you left the building the newly warmed breeze swirled through your hair. The sunny weather practically lifting your wings for you as you flew towards the club. You reveled in the distance it granted you from your life. From the above clouds, Hell was actually rather pretty. The seemingly dull color scheme found a bit more variation the higher you flew. The different areas of the city blending into one. With each flap of your wings, the clouds whispered murmurs of freedom into your ears. For just a moment, it almost didn’t feel like hell.

 The rest of the flight is relatively peaceful, excluding the occasional scream from the city below.  Eventually you arrive at the club and head to your dressing room. You plop down on the velvety plush sofa seated against the wall.  It was still a bit early for places, so you elected to read one of Angel’s trashy magazine to pass the time. A ginger knock at the door draws your focus from celebrity scandals and tv drama. 

“Amorcito”

Valentino’s voice worms itself into your ear. He leans against the door frame looking for any indication of fear on your face. He didn’t want to scare you off before he had the chance to explain himself. You shoot him a tired glare and return to your magazine. Even if you wanted to answer it’s not like you had the ability to.

“Right, I forgot.”  He muses, his smirk practically bleeding into his eyes. With a wave of his hand , the sigil on your wrist begins to spark in a hot pink glow. In a puff of smoke, your voice returns to you. 

“Do you need something Val” you ask.  It comes out a bit raspier than you had intended. Hopefully he didn't take it as a form of aggression. You had somehow landed yourself in his good graces, and you didn’t want to fall from them any sooner than you had to.  

“I can’t have you sitting silent for your dear clients now can I y/n?” 

You didn’t respond. Mentally, you rolled your eyes. The statement was laughable. He would tear your soul to pieces if he could hear the sarcasm racketing around your brain at the current moment. 

“Mi amor, you know I didn’t mean it. I can’t have my favorite muñeca upset with me, can I?” 

You stay silent. Your body still wept with the soreness of the night before, but he had come here with the expectation you would nurse his pride back to health.

“You know that I love you baby” His tone was permeated with an emotion you couldn't quite place. For the first time, the desperation on his face surpassed the bloodlust. It lacked his usual innuendos and crude curses. If you hadn't known better you might have believed he really did- yet something deep within you really did want to believe he could be good. Maybe he didn't love you but he did feel slightly sorry and maybe that would be enough. You stood up from the sofa and placed a hand on his shoulder. 

"I know you do Val. Don't worry about it" The words are sweet but the emotion behind them is entirely dead. His arm slinked around your waist, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips. 

"I want to thank you, for the dress. Its really beautiful. You have great taste” You added. Your hand layered on top of his, a gentle, but very obviously fake smile curving into your lips. Val loved compliments, the antennae on his forehead usually perked up whenever he received one. 

To your surprise, he started to laugh, his shoulders shaking in its ferocity. “ Y/n you can’t be serious.” 

You didn’t really understand what was funny or why you were nervously laughing along with him. You didn’t have to know why, you just had to go along with it. If you had to guess, he was probably intoxicated in one way or another. Most of the other performers and employees constantly were on some level. It would make sense if he was too. “I’m almost insulted you would even pretend that I would put you in something that tacky, and not to mention conservative. I treat you better than that don’t I?” 

With that, you were even more confused..Did he not gift you the dress? Where the hell else would it come from?  You couldn't even begin to craft a response. You had to come up with something quickly, and improvisation(lying) was not your best skill. Your mind darted from one lame excuse to another. You didn’t have time to think critically about it you just had to say something.

“Yeah I thought it would be a funny joke, I agree it is a bit old fashioned, It definitely needs a little update..I liked the color though.” You lied straight through your teeth. It wasn't clear if he had bought into your practically incoherent rambling. As all good liars do, you dug the hole a few feet deeper with a few more details to seal the deal.  “I wasn’t sure how to alter it so I thought I’d ask you for your opinion”. 

Even if the excuse was lame, it covered all the bases. 

“In my opinion we shred it”  His quiet laugh sounded egotistical to say the least. If something or someone didn't fit his taste he saw no reason why it should exist.

Disappointment drapes your frame from the tips of your horns to the bottom of your heels. Even if the dress had apparently spawned from some freaky stalker, you really did like it. 

“Are you sure I couldn’t just wear it as it is for one night? I could add a slit or something for the next time "Hope laced your bargain as you spoke. You knew he would probably say no but you couldn't help but ask. 

“Y/n, Baby, as hot as I think you look in anything. This dress is going to need some serious alterations if you expect to wear it in front of our rowdy crowd. I can't let you go out there dressed like a nun, it would be awful for business” His face twists into a sly sneer. An idea bubbled on the surface of his thoughts.Before you can register what is happening, his hands are tracing the outline of your hips. Each separated claw of his fingers ran down your body until they stopped just above the outer edge of each thigh. On the surface the action didn't exhibit his typically harmful nature, but if you dared to look even a fraction of an inch closer you would see its minatory subtext. 

“Don’t worry, I think we can figure out something simple out for tonight”. His fingers draw together into a unified line. He digs his nails in a little deeper into you as he drags them down your leg until they reach the floor. He had effectively sliced a high slit on both sides of the dress, with little to no effort. He had pushed a little too deeply in some areas, small pricks of blood leaked from a few irregularly shaped scratches in consequence.

“You look like perfection in red baby”, he breaths out. He stayed crouched on the floor for a moment. You couldn’t tell if he was admiring the surprisingly straight lines of his work or the dots of blood that speckled your skin. He takes your hand in his and places a wet kiss on your wrist where the sigil had been burned into your skin. 

“I can’t wait to see you shine tonight Amorcito” 

He kissed up your arm as he rose from the floor. The way his tongue slithered around your forearm made you dreadfully uncomfortable. The feeling was slimy and otherwise indescribable. You were almost grateful you didn’t have the words to describe your disgust so that the feeling would die with you instead of being passed around to others by language.

You were eternally grateful when he finally walked through the exit. He was finished with his fun with you, at least for now.The club had opened a little more than ten minutes ago. As its owner, he had an obligation to fulfill his duties (flirt with hot guys) ,and supervise the club floor (get blackout drunk and fuck aforementioned hot guys ). Val loved to watch as sinners got down and dirty in the corners of his dimly lit clubs. It was a bit of an ego boost to know he had helped create an environment that led to that sort of thing. He enjoyed the epigrammatic conversations and miscellaneous substance his customers brought with them. He was great at sharing when it came to things that weren’t his own. He loved to hear them praise his accomplishments, and disclose the desire they shared for him and his performers almost as he loved to get high. By the look of tonights crowd, he was in for another pleasurable evening, or so he thought. 

A curt laugh track interrupted the regularly scheduled cycle of conversation. Val’s head practically spun backwards upon noticing the deer eared demon lounging at the edge of the balcony. 

"What the fuck is he doing here" Val grunted under his breath.  He was supposed to be dead.

Alastor, apparently, never received the memo. He sat with a glass of indifferent whiskey in the VIP segment of the balcony above. He was fitted in a well cut vermilion pin stripe suit and a pair of wing tipped oxfords. Despite his polished exterior and perpetual smile, his eyes were glossed in boredom. 

The conversations of lower demons never really intrigued him, they didn't speak much about anything outside of the bounds of recreational drug use. He wasn’t ashamed to admit he had spent time in that particular circle back in his younger days. Perhaps it was the drastic change of aesthetic, or maybe the culture surrounding it had just shifted too much for his liking, but it just didn’t appeal to him anymore. Alastor found the environment dreadfully exhausting. The distinct loud bump of electronic base and synthesized beats made it hard to hear his own thoughts. He was in for a long boring night. There really wasn’t anything more for him to do than pass judgment on the tasteless decor. 

He looked around at the tacky overtly sexual paintings hung against the walls. It was one of Valentino’s classier clubs, but that doesn’t mean the interior designer wasn’t entirely delusional when they picked out its color pallet. For lack of a better word, it was just ugly. The Deep pinks and vibrant reds of the walls accented the white porcelain pillars that framed them. (Vaguely reminiscent of a tampon) The dark purple of the leathery chairs somehow blended in with the black marble tile in such a hideous way the word “unity” didn’t even begin to spark his mind. 

With the exception of its more intimate performance space and higher end clientele, it wasn’t that much different than the typical club experience Valentino provided. It still featured his usual sex rooms and coke lined tables, despite its overall calmer energy. Alastor didn’t understand how you ended up in a place like this. It didn’t seem like you. He had instructed the newest soul under his contract to follow you and figure out your daily routine and “basic facts of life”. He would never admit it, but he was mostly curious to learn of your relationship status. He wanted to know if you had gotten married or if you had moved on. He had been dead for years ,it would make sense if you had. He didn’t want to step back into your life unless he knew everything.He needed to know what approach would work best on you.  “Evidently” you weren’t just outwardly spouting that information into the hilltops. The poor soul came back with a list of two locations and not much else. Naturally, it didn’t get to live much longer. He was not a man to have his time wasted. If he wanted something done correctly the first time he should have just done it himself. So here he was, awaiting your performance.  

 Valentino walked across the crowded floor, his clenched fists glued to his sides. Alastor’s bored expression made his blood boil. He carelessly dodged dancing couples and trays of champagne in his quiet anger. Val never liked that old timey prick or his rickety dated voice. It grated his ears endlessly, not to mention he was just flat out annoying. If Val wanted to listen to some random lanky old man’s diet British accent and senseless uppity rambles;  he would have turned on Downton Abby or some other old pretentious shit. Each step he took towards the radio demon deepened the scowling smirk growing on his face. If Alastor was going to ever so nonchalantly seat him self and a glass of whiskey in the VIP section of HIS club, at least one of them going to have his fun with it. 

“I didn't take you to be a fan of my work Alastor, lovely to see you as always” Val slid into the booth across from him. The remaining groups still seated at the surrounding tables grabbed their drinks and found a better place to be. It was a well known fact the two of them weren’t friends 

“I am most decidedly not! however the streets of hell will not stop praising a certain canary singing on your steps, and I am by far intrigued" His eyed narrowed as his grin grew wider. 

“Oh really? It is my little siren you are interested in? Don’t let her pretty little face fool you, she’s a real bitch to work with. She thinks shes hot shit just because the sound of her voice is enough to chain any demon.” He feigned disinterest, flicking his nails to the side to observing their color.

“Oh really~Where ever did you find her? Surely if she is this talented I would have heard of her already"  Agitation seethed through Alastor's voice. He had never liked Valentino, he found his methods to be crude and unseemly. The way he spoke of you hazed Alastor's vision in permanent red. He had killed far greater demons for far less than the disrespect he had sent your way. However, he knew he couldn't act on that urge quite yet. He was on a mission. He needed to know more about why you were here first in the first place. No one here would know better than the sleazy club owner himself.

“ I don’t really think that’s your business" Valentino accused, venom dripping from his tongue. He didn't really care why the radio demon had taken such a fast interest in a lowly sinner like you. It didn't matter. It gave him something to work with. He had something he didn’t. Pride is a fickle thing, he could use this to get under his skin. 

He didn't want a physical altercation by any means, not in his own territory anyway. Vox would never let him live it down if he started a fight in his own club and accidentally tore it to the ground in the process. A verbal sparring session would have to do for now. Val loved starting any sort of argument he could conceive. 

"My little dove tends to shy away from the limelight. She used to do all of her performances behind a mask, but don’t you worry I was able to coax her out of it." (are you secretly the masked singer?? omg) "You'll be in for a wonderful show tonight." Pride overtook Valentino's usually mendacious features as he spoke. He had something Alastor didn't. Val wanted nothing more than to spark jealousy in his heart. Alastor, wasn't oblivious to his intentions, it just wasn't his primary focus. More-so, he felt frustrated with questions he couldn't ask. You couldn't have been in Hell for more than a few days. How many performances had you really had time for? The possibility you had existed down here for any longer than that didn't exist to him. 

"Now Valentino, there's no reason to be secretive, unless you have something to hide. Surely if this woman is as fantastic as you say she is, there is  no need to hide the details of her origin, I'm sure it must be quite the story"  A deceitful glimmer coruscated his smile, as he took another careless swig of whiskey. His pointed fingers gripped tighter around the glass, cracking its edge.

" Actually-it’s the opposite, trust me its not even worth mentioning” Val laughed. “Why not enjoy the present and focus on her current skillset a? Surely you must have seen her around somewhere, she’s a real star on film." His tone was maliciously sweet, but the dry rasp of his voice revealed the truth. A dark glint flashed in his eyes as he thought of your previous work. 

Getting information out of "barney the big purple pimp"  Valentino was going to be harder than Alastor had previously anticipated. Any information he might’ve had on you was under lock and key. At this point, he considered just ripping off Valentino's stupid little egg shaped head and calling it a day. He didn't understand what you saw in him or this dingy sweat stained bar. In your time on earth, the two of you had spent many nights dancing together in the speakeasies and glitzy clubs of New Orleans. This wasn't the type of establishment you would usually go in for. He had always known you to see the best in others, even if they so evidently didn't deserve it. You sharpened your sword for those you deemed worthy even if they despised you for it. If you were here it must meant you had seen something worth redemption within him. 

"You must be very proud of her accomplishments to rave on about her in this way" Alastor’s voice was fitted in the same snarky tone you often took with Valentino, but unlike you, he could tear the whole club apart with a snap of his fingers. Val didn’t want to deal with that, not here. He would have to wait and slit the radio demon's throat outside of his territory. 

"Enjoy the show Alastor.” He quipped promptly showing the conversation to its end. Valentino walked away before he could get in a word otherwise. 

Val didn’t know the nature of Alastor’s apparent attraction towards you, but he personally knew the pain desperately wanting something you couldn't have caused. Ironically, Alastor was the indirect cause of that familiarity. Through Valentino's partnership with Vox, obsession had sprouted.  Something about the way his televised voice distorted in anger drew him in. He had been caught on his snarky personality and quick wit almost as much as the pitiful reassurances the TV demon would occasionally throw his way. He knew the feelings he had amounted for Vox were never going to be reciprocated.  He would never look his way so long as the radio demon walked the streets of hell. Even if Valentino couldn’t bring about his revenge in his typical violent way, he was determined to get it. You were the key he didn’t know he had. After all, no sinner could resist the call of your sweet song or the appeal of your hips. The radio demon would be no different. 

Eventually, one of Val’s assistants called you to places. You walk through the backstage area, a trail of glittery red streaming behind you. You always loved the moment before the show began. It was typically quiet, everyone attended to their own business. They rarely stopped to bother you, it offered you a moment of order before the chaos this performance would plunge you into. You grab a sugar rimmed shot glass from underneath the bar cart left for the performers. You didn’t bother to read the labels on the bottle as you poured a heavy handed shot. As soon as the liquid touched your lips you realized it had been gin. Despite the burning in your throat, and the sour taste it left in your mouth, you refilled the glass a few more times. On some level, you felt guilty for the amount of alcohol you had just consumed.On a deeper level, you knew you couldn’t make it through a set without it. It was a means to an end, nothing more. 

 Valentino’s compulsion for revenge had led him towards the velvety amethyst curtains of the stage you stood behind. Whatever good mood he was in earlier had vanished, his disposition was dripped in murderous rage. He storms up to you, roughly taking your chin in his hand. 

“I don't fucking know why or how but the radio demon is here. You better make me look good-I’ve already throughly sung your praises and I will not be embarrassed in front of that shit head”  He paced as he spoke hostility following at his heels. “For some reason, he has taken an interest in you. I need you to give an extra little show to the balcony he’s seated in the center. Hes the lanky washed out red asshole with the bitchy little antlers, you can’t miss him.” The words he had spoken jumbled in your brain. You weren’t really paying attention, the calming aura of the alcohol had begun to hit your system. 

“I thought he was dead, are you sure it’s him?” you mumbled as you picked of the remaining sugar crystals from your glass. 

 You had briefly heard of the radio demon in your time-He hadn’t been around for years, most demons speculated that someone finally managed to kill him. He disappeared three years after your arrival in hell, but his methods left a lasting impression. The agonizing screams he had broadcasted still echoed in your dreams occasionally. However, despite your deeply rooted fear, you admired him on some level. He was clever to say the least, and his morals weren’t entirely questionable either. He thought dealing in cheaper souls was crass and frankly unnecessary. He left weaker demons alone, unless they stepped in the way of his path.He wouldn’t pick a fight with anyone he didn’t deem strong enough to fight back. 

 His hands shoot against your throat, the force of the action drags you into sobriety.  His fingers thrust deeper into your skin as he lifts you from the floor by your neck. He had a lot riding on this, and he wasn’t going to let your indifference ruin that. Your grasp on the shot glass loosens as your vision begins to spot from the lack of oxygen. It falls from your hand and shatters with the impact.

“Your job isn’t to ask questions, it’s to get out there and make me look good” he drags your body closer and growls into your ear. 

He slams your body against the floor of fragmented glass. The sole of his foot makes contact with the palm of your hand, pushing the shards deeper into your skin. Crimson flowed through the wounds  in a steady pour. Hot tears took residence in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. 

“ If you fuck this up for me, I’ll do a lot worse than just take your voice Y/n. You don’t want to see me angry. I promise you, you won’t like it.” His foot presses harder against your skin. His dark tone sends shivers down your spine. He had released his grasp on you, but the syllables that slithered out of his mouth constricted around your throat. 

Despite your decision not to cry, the tears began to spill. They weren’t entirely motivated by the pain. The situation had become too similar to those that had existed in your life, and this was your body’s reaction to that. The heat from his glare could have cauterized your wounds. He removed his foot from your hand as he crouched down next to your tear stained figure. His fingers graze the edges of your cheek. His touch is surprisingly gentle as he wipes droplets from your face.

“I can’t wait to see you tonight Amorcito, you always put on such a good show for me.” He kisses your injured hand, the cuts begin to close as his lips come into contact with your skin. He licks the remaining blood from his lips and returns to the club floor- leaving you in a pool of maroon colored regret and splintering glass. 

You watch the stage manager’s eyes roll as they grab a mop to clean up the mess. Whatever they were getting payed, it wasn’t enough. Although the ordeal wasn’t out of the ordinary, it was definitely inconvenient. You stand up from the floor brushing the remaining glass off of your dress and walk through the curtains and onto the stage. Even without a physical mask, you were still wearing one. You dawned a bright sultry smile and an uppity attitude as you waved to your adoring fans. At times the outlandishly theatric persona could be fun. The ecstatic cheers of the crowd after each movement made you feel powerful in an odd way. The attention often fueled your performance into the more seductive destination Val had wanted to begin with. It was a means to an end, nothing more.

“Good evening to all of my lovely sinners in the audience” The sound of your voice echoed over the endless chatter of the club. You sat down at the edge of the rounded stage, your legs dangling over its edge. The short demon in front of you practically drooled as your body edged a little more off the platform in his direction. You noticed his reaction and wanted to take things a step further. Your wings spread, taking you closer to the table he sat at, the edge of your finger tilting his head up to meet your own.

“I’ve got a wonderful show in store for just you tonight” Seduction over took your tone as you blew the demon a kiss leaving the entire table absolutely dumbfounded. You travel back to the stage with various sexual remarks towards the other inhabitants. You sit back on the stage, slowly extending your legs to the side, crossing them as you do. You tease the slits in your dress to the side revealing a bit more skin. The patrons erupt into a sea deafening screams. 

The lights suddenly cut out, you dissipated with them. The shred of an electric guitar echoed throughout the space. An array of red and purple spotlights flood the center of the stage. You reappear in a puff of smoke as they do. The music was a bit “edgier” than what you’d usually go for. The genres you listened to spanned a vast array of styles, but you usually preferred to sing the softer tunes of the earlier decades. Valentino’s typical clientele however, needed a newer, rougher pop/rock sound. The drum set clicks in tandem with the percussive click of your heels as you begin your dance. 

A wickedly wide grin stretches across your face, you were ready to start the show. You began to sing.

“I heard he sang a good song

I heard he had a style”

This was your compromise. You could sing anything you wanted to so long as you updated the instrumentals. Most of the people in the club were too wasted to listen to the lyrics anyway. It didn’t really matter what you sang as long as you sounded good and looked hot doing it. Hell’s population would eat up anything you served them. Their mouths began to water as you drop to the floor, arching your back away from them. The music flowed through you, awakening a deep sensuality in your movement . Each twist of your hips accented the intense chords and high hat hits of the accompaniment. Your hair formed a halo around you as you turned onto your back. Your legs extend into the air earning an influx of vulgar cheers from the surrounding demons. Any softness your voice had once held disappeared as growled into the next phrase.

“And so I came to see him

To listen for a while”

You slowly slid up from the floor, your hands following the shape of your curves until they reached pit of your neck. Your fingers splayed against its circumference as you rolled your eyes back into your head.  You glanced up to the balcony to make sure the radio demon was watching, the dim lighting prevented you from seeing anything more than his silhouette. 

Alastor wasn’t entirely sure what to make of the glance you threw him, or your performance. On the one hand, he was endlessly enamored with you. Alastor would have dedicated the rest of his life to sing your praises in that moment if you had just asked him to. He loved to listen to you sing and watch you dance in any context.

On the other hand however, it made him extraordinarily jealous. He hated the lewd comments and desire filled glances of the other demons around him.  It made sense they were attracted to someone like you, but that doesn’t mean he liked that they were. He would remember each face that dared utter such filthy things about you, and deal with them later.  His attention shifted back to your voice as you spun your voice into a decadent riff. 

“And there he was this young boy

A stranger to my eyes”

 You turned upstage to the silver pole that spun in its center. Hundreds of eyes glazed over in pure lust as your spine pressed against the pole. You were practically suffocated with screams as your form flipped upside down. You dropped one arm from the pole, the tips of your wings grazing the floor as your newly freed hand followed the lines of your body. 

 Your exaggerated and frankly pornographic expressions as you twisted against the pole made Alastor apprehensive. The feeling of unease was not caused by disgust but concern. As much as he loved to listen to you sing, this  didn’t feel right for him to watch. It felt too fake. You looked far too uncomfortable for his liking.He had seen you in a more intimate light before. Even decades later the mere thought of your gentle gasps and fluttering lashes dragged him up from hell and sent him straight to heaven. He was familiar with the grind of your hips against his own, and the feeling of your hands in his. He knew every freckle on your body and the exact degree of your spine’s curvature. He loved nothing more than to worship each fold in your figure. He adored the gentle light that always seemed to flicker in your eyes in those sensitive moments. He reveled in your loving glances and gentle touches he was not bothered with the sexuality of it all but rather its performative nature. This felt too over the top. Despite your energetic movements and sensual smile, your eyes were cold and dead. He didn’t want his memory caught on your legs wrapped around his waist or his head between your thighs if it was just a performance. It didn’t feel right to. He pushed the thoughts from his mind and focused on the sound of your voice. Even with its dolorous tamber the whisper of your gentle heart found its way to seep through. 

"Strumming my pain with his fingers

Singing my life with his words

Killing me softly with his song"

You notice Val seated between two tall blonde demons with their legs crossed over his. He was very clearly not impressed with them or your movements on the pole. His disinterest grew with each sip of his drink. He gives you a pressing look. In that moment you knew exactly what he wanted. He had had enough of your stalling. You looked good but you needed to look better. 

"Killing me softly with his song

Telling my whole life with his words

Killing me softly with his song"

With a slight roll of your eyes, you fly up to the balcony. You place yourself onto the thick marbled railing with your back to the radio demon. With a quick twist your of your hips, you straddle the banister your body rolling against it ever so slightly. You make direct eye contact with the patron in the center booth. He wore a mask crafted in wilted black rose petals and the scent of death, but underneath he held your late lover’s face. His deep red eyes meet your own e/c ones The glimmer of his previously golden swirled dark brown eyes clashed against his current ghostly red ones  He brushed a strand of his straightened two toned hair  to the side of his face. He carried the same nose, body, and expression as Alastor- Your Alastor. You turn upstage to compose yourself. You sway your hips to the beat of the music in order to keep up appearances. You turn your weary head behind you to his table to make sure you hadn’t imagined it. Even in its outstretched state, his smile gave him away. It really was him. After years of searching, you had finally found him, or better yet, he found you. For just a moment, you had forgotten your penance and your heart flowed with oceans of love. You floated within them in pure ecstasy. In that moment, and animosity you held for him faded away with the weight of your excitement.

"I felt all flushed with fever

Embarrassed by the crowd"

Abruptly the realization hits you, he was seated where the radio demon should have been- that must mean that Alastor; Your  Alastor, was the radio demon. Your mind flipped to the initial radio broadcast he first spoke to you with, as well as the note signed “yours truly”.  Alastor had used that phrase so often as a sign off from the radio show…..Perhaps you weren’t the sharpest little crayon in the demon filled box- considering the embarrassingly long time it took you to put the pieces together. 

"I felt he found my letters

And read each one out loud"

Realizing this sent a wave of relief through you. Perhaps he could free you from this life, he was one of the strongest demons in hell. If anyone could break your contract with Valentino, it would be him...Would he even consider it? Your mind swirled in a storm of questions. Why the sudden change? As the relief of the initial realization began to fade and a new understanding took root. He had left you in life, why would he want to help you now? 

You couldn’t help but wonder why he was really here. Considering his previous track record, nothing made sense. Why would he speak to you within his broadcast, or gift you the dress, or show up to your workplace if he hadn’t payed you any mind in such a long time?

He must have wanted something from you. That would be the only logical reason for his sudden appearance. If he truly had always been the radio demon, he held power. He had all of the necessary resources to find you and he never did. He didn’t need to. 

"I prayed that he would finish

But he just kept right on"

You think back to the various gifts he would purchase you before he asked something of you, or the roses he would send to your apartment if you two had an argument in your life together. Your years of wondering why he had left boiled down to one simplistic answer…He had always just needed something. The more you thought on this, the more painfully obvious it became. He wasn’t here because he loved you. He was only here because you had become convenient again.The second he deemed you impractical, he would leave you as he had before.

"Strumming my pain with his fingers

Singing my life with his words"

You fly away from the balcony, sliding down the metal pole in the center of the stage to reach the floor. You were thankful the stage lights blinded you from his pressing gaze once you were on the ground. You would ignore the balcony entirely for the remainder of the performance. It didn’t matter if Valentino would be upset, you couldn’t bear to look at Alastor anymore- Yet even with your newfound distance, he had chained you to memory. You were transported back to the downtown apartment in which you had previously spent so many hours with him in.

 1930 New Orleans: Your apartment 

The candlelit room was a patchwork of miscellaneous vintage furnishings and modern decorative trinkets. You had moved into your apartment not long after your father had passed. Most of the items within it were gifted to you upon his death. He preferred victorian architecture over all else, it was natural his taste in interior design would follow. You leaned against the sage patterned love seat with a cooling cup of tea in hand. The star speckled sky, and tepid air of late April seep through your opened window.

You awaited the arrival of your lover. Alastor wasn’t a man to be late. He was meticulously early and always prepared. His absence had begun to torment you in anxiety. The grandfather clock stationed in the corner of the room struck midnight, furthering your worries. He was supposed to arrive at 7:30, obviously it was long past that. 

He had promised to take you out dancing to make up for the late hours he had begun to keep at the studio. He had become more withdrawn than you cared to admit. He disappeared for days at a time. On the few days you managed to get ahold of him, he dismissed you, insisting he needed to keep working on his show. It aggravated you to no end, but you would never want to be another obstacle on the way to his dreams. It was easier to let it go and enjoy the time you did have with him.

You had the bad habit of jumping to the worst scenario.You didn’t live in the safest sector of the city, it was entirely possible he had been attacked along the way. Your mind shifts to the uprising of missing person’s cases New Orleans had been plagued with. The media speculated a killer of some kind, but the police department denied those theories. They hadn’t found any of the bodies, and refused to believe they were going to.

 If he wasn’t here within the next hour, you were going to search for him yourself.

"Killing me softly with his song

Killing me softly with his song"

An abrupt knock steals you from your worries, you rush to its source without a second thought. You open the door to the dark curly haired man you had been waiting for. To your surprise, his usually tidy hair was unkempt and rumpled around his newly bruised face. His disheveled blood stained clothing reflected the crimson pouring from his nose. You froze like a deer in headlights, it was one hell of a way to show up for a date. 

"Killing me softly with his song

Killing me softly with his song"

“Oh my god” you whispered under your breath. Your hands appear at the sides of his face tracing each little scratch and the deep bruise forming around his eye. “Love..what happened? Are you okay?” You stuttered out.

He sent you a sheepish smile, not wanting to raise any concerns.“May I come in” he asked placing his hand on top of your own.

  His “previous activities” were rather impromptu. Usually, his targets were much better thought out, and handled much more methodically. Although he enjoyed the anguished screams of his victims, he would never hurt anyone who wasn’t actively or indirectly hurting you, the same applied to this kill. The timing wasn’t ideal but it was a necessity.

He had decided to walk to the flower shop from the station so he could surprise you with a fresh bouquet before your date. He felt tremendously guilty for his recent absences, and wanted to alleviate that with a gift. Even if he missed you dreadfully, New Orleans birthed the scum of the earth. It was more important to keep you protected than to keep long expanses of your company. He would never forgive himself if something he could have prevented happened to you.

Upon his arrival into the shop, he was rather annoyed with the short brutish man that held up the line. He shamelessly flirted with the owner of the shop, who very clearly did not care for his advances. Alastor wouldn’t stand for such behavior. It was better to deal with the issue then instead of allowing you to continue to exist in a world full of degenerates. He would do anything to keep you safe. 

 Once the man had finally left, he followed him until they reached a quiet alley. He pulled the knife from his coat pocket, ready to strike. He stabbed the man’s back and twisted the knife in as far as it would go. However, the man was a bit stronger than he anticipated. It was the first time anyone had bothered to fight back.

His most recent kill had gotten sloppy, and here he was covered in blood on your doorstep in consequence. He never wanted any of the evidence to be tied to you, so he had learned to keep his distance. On this particular occasion however, he didn’t have much of a choice. He had dismembered the body and left it tucked in an alleyway, to be disposed of later. The only evidence remaining was the blood staining his clothes. If someone saw him walking through town in his disorderly state, that would raise questions; questions that could indirectly put you into harms way. Although this wasn’t ideal, it was the only option. -Besides, he had accidentally missed your date, you were probably worried sick over him.

“Yes of course I’m sorry, please follow me” You stammer out grasping his hand and leading him to the bathroom. You weren’t entirely sure of the nature of his bedraggled  state, but you were determined to fix it. You reach under the sink and dig out the first aid kit you kept on hand. 

You reach for the bandages and a dampen a small cloth. You press it against his bloodied nose and place a gentle kiss on his forehead.

“Are you alright” You ask hesitantly. Your mind burned with questions, what had happened to bring him here in such a state?

“It’s nothing I can’t manage I’m sorry to drag you into this.” He replied, remorse seeping into his tone.

“No it’s alright I’m just glad you’re okay.” You responded as you began to bandage the scuffs on his hands. From his demeanor, you gathered he didn’t really want to talk about this, but you couldn’t help but ask.

“What happened Al?”  You questioned. Your shoulders were slumped in his direction while you carefully washed the cuts on his face.

“It’s not important my dear.” He responded with a nonchalant smile.

"Telling my whole life with his words

Killing me softly with his song"

His indifferent attitude did anything but calm you. 

“You can’t show up on my doorstep like this, and not expect me to be concerned for you. Please, just tell me what happened love” You begged. 

“I  had something to take care of. It’s not important” He dismissed you again as you unbuttoned the clasps of his shirt to tend to anything below the surface. Through his bloodied exterior, you couldn’t discern what stemmed from him or another person. 

“Clearly-" you huffed. You examined the small contusions that littered his chest. “Please don’t run from me Al”  Even though his injuries are less severe than you’d thought your lips contorted into a deep frown. “I’m worried about you.” Your e/c eyes bore into his smooth brown ones.

“I just.. got involved with the wrong person y/n, please save your worries for a worthy cause.” He murmured. He attempted to dissuade your worries with another smile, it only multiplied them.

“We should report this to the police Alastor I don’t care who you got involved with they don’t have a right to leave you like this” You urge, your fingers mindlessly trace the edges of each forming bruise.

“Y/n just drop it.” He finally snapped, his voice is intense and almost feral. His shoulders tense up almost as quickly as they release.

“Please”. He softens, pressing a tender kiss against your lips.

"He sang as if he knew me

In all my dark despair"

1930: New Orleans: Your apartment, six months later

Another pressing knock awakens you from your sleep. You didn’t even have it in you to be upset anymore. It had become habitual, he would show up on your doorstep a little before four in the morning speckled in bright red blood; just as he had done every few weeks for the last six months. It wasn’t worth asking for explanation anymore. He would ramble out the same tepid excuses and unconcerned reassurances. 

You opened the door to his typical scarlet splatted clothing. The longer his little escapade expanded, the less injuries he sustained afterwards. It was a double edged sword. You were glad he never walked in branded in bruises or dripping his own blood, but it also made you apprehensive. How was he able to hurt another so easily with no more damage than the occasional scrape on his knuckles? Nothing about the entire affair made sense. You recall the vague details he had mentioned after the first incident. If he truly had been accidentally whisked into the company of the wrong individuals, why didn’t he just leave? He worked in radio, theoretically he could accomplish the same goal in a different location. There wasn’t anything to stop him. You had assured him you would drop everything and go with him if he only asked you to. New Orleans had no reason to hold onto you in his absence. You were a matching set.  

With a small kiss between your drowsy eyes, he walked into your bedroom to shed his dirtied clothes. Upon his return, he flitted about your kitchen collecting the necessary materials to make you both a cup of tea. It was routine at this point. Accompanied by the smooth lull of the radio, you would drink your tea and chat. He was never at a loss for words, and you loved to listen. You didn’t really talk about anything meaningful, just whatever happened to cross his mind.  You sit curled into his arms tea in hand. You couldn’t help but wonder why this was all happening. You wanted him to open up to you. It didn’t matter what the circumstances were. Maybe if he told you, you could find a way to help him out of this

“Al..why don’t we just leave here? I don’t like that you keep showing up like this. I promise I won’t be upset with whatever details it holds…I just want to know that you’re being safe.” You nestle your head into the crook of his neck, as you speak.

“My dear, we have been over this, it is nothing I can’t handle. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it” He smiles down at you and presses another kiss against your forehead. He admired your care, but he feared your judgement too harshly to admit the true details of his actions.

"And then he looked right through me

As if I wasn't there"

“This is the second time this week Alastor. I’ll support you through anything but I deserve to know the details”. You plead, lifting your head to better observe his features. He looked completely and entirely unbothered.

"And he just kept on singing

Singing clear and strong"

"y/n I'm telling you to drop it" His hand cups your cheek.

"No you don't get to tell me that anymore. I'm concerned for you Alastor.” Your voice gets louder as you pull away from his touch.

"I've told you before darling, you needn't worry" He tucks a stray loc of your hair behind your ear. "I promise I would never hide anything from you for longer than I needed to dear.I will always be truthful with you y/n” He pulls your body back into his lap as he speaks.

“ I just can’t tell you yet… It wouldn’t be right to involve you in this.” His voice is indistinct and distant, as his arms wrap around you into a tight hug.

“ I can’t risk you getting hurt, You are my perfection dear” 

Your heart falls from your recollection as your body finally drops to the from the spinning pole. Alastor didn't end up keeping his promise of eventually veracity. How many other things did he simply “not tell you yet”.

"Strumming my pain with his fingers

Singing my life with his words"

You were convenient and gullible, you had loved him too much to even consider that he might have been hurting others and not a victim himself . You lived in the middle of the city, giving him a central location to act from. He hadn’t lied when he said you were perfect.

"Killing me softly with his song

Killing me softly with his song"

It was much deeper than you previously thought. You weren’t just someone he kept around for the occasional favor or entertainment. It was deeper than that. The bloodied clothes and unexplained absences finally made sense.  He would’ve needed to harm a lot of people to hold such an astute amount of power upon his arrival in hell. You were the unknown tool that helped him reach that status. 

"Telling my whole life with his words"

No wonder you ended up in hell. Any sinful actions you may have taken or blood on your hands was nothing in comparison to the amount he spilled with your help. You were nothing more than an accessory to his crimes. You had wasted your life on counterfeit kisses and meaningless utterances of  love. You had wasted your afterlife believing they held some merit.

"Killing me softly with his song"

He didn’t come for you because he didn’t need anything from you. He never actually loved you enough to search for you beyond that. 

The music crescendos into its final note. You take a slight bow as the crowd exploded into a sea of cheers.

“Thank you for being such a darling audience, I’ll be out to speak with you soon” you announce as you blow a kiss in their direction. Val would have to be mad later. You needed to get out of there

As soon you walked off stage, the lively armor of your theatrical persona was thrown aside, leaving nothing to guard your wounded heart. You stumble down the hall towards your dressing room ,a freshly opened bottle of wine in tow. You wanted nothing more than a moment of clear unfeeling peace. Valentino preferred you to mingle after a performance, but you needed to collect yourself and dampen your anger before you had to speak with your untamable fans. Alastor’s appearance had shaken you to your core in ways you weren’t prepared to confront. You didn’t have time to accurately process those emotions so you would settle for a second alone to compartmentalize. By the time you reach the dressing room’s door, the bottle in your hand is nearly empty. You turn the knob to reveal to a vase of crimson roses reflected in your mirror and the shadow of his antlers on your face. 

“Why are you here.” You asked pointedly. Your voice held the typical icey air of a frigid hellish morning. You had no intention of letting him stay long enough to propose whatever twisted favor had brought him back to your door.

“It was you that contacted me dearest” He ignored the frostbite forming on his finger tips from your cold shoulder- His frankly untrue statement struck more than a few of your nerves. 

“If I had, don’t you think I would have done it sooner?” You seethed with aggravation. Alastor hadn’t a clue as to why you were so cross with him. Perhaps guilt motivated your responses and he was simply caught in the overtly anguished crossfire. You had always been slightly oversensitive to your effect on him- maybe that was it?

“Now my dear you haven’t been in hell very long, you mustn’t blame yourself for needing a bit of extra time to understand your skillset. I was pleasantly surprised to hear your sweet voice interrupt my usual broadcast- Although, I must say I wasn’t aware you were so interested in continuing show business after death. Had you asked before finding your own way, I could have connected you with a classier establishment" 

“A bit of extra time is the understatement of the hour” you huff under your breath. 

“Most demons take weeks to learn control, you on the other hand managed to do so in a couple of days you really should be proud” He sent you a reassuring smile.

You laugh dryly, confusion overtakes his features and seeps into his smile.

“Oh sure you’re absolutely right! I should be proud it only took a day or so- give or take a few years” The sarcasm radiating from your response would have slit the throat of a lesser demon. This confused Alastor even further. 

“y/n, how long have you been in hell.”Bewilderment etches across his lips, he had never considered the possibility you weren’t another new arrival before then.

“Ten years, eleven next week.” you admit. His eyes grow wide in remorse.

“Dear I am so very sorry I didn’t find you sooner. Between your anonymity and my little leave of absence, we must have just missed each other. I assure you had I known you were here I would have been chasing at your heels.”  Despite his deeply genuine intentions, you perceived his words as nothing more than another manipulative tactic to persuade you into whatever twisted plan he had in store.

“Please- Al, you can cut the act already. To be entirely frank, I don’t need any more of your sweetly worded lies, I know who you’ve always really been now. I’m telling you it’s not going to work anymore- I’m not that stupid.” Your retort was accompanied by the roll of his eyes.

“You left me without a care in the world, and with a child for that matter. It stands to reason your sentiment wouldn’t change, even in hell. I don’t care for whatever old favor you’re trying to call in. I’m not helping you.” Even across the room, the edges of his raven tipped hair practically singed at the weight of your words. For the first time in his hellish existence, his everlasting smile dropped. He didn’t know he was a father. He had died before you had chance to tell him.

“ We had a child?” His voice is weak and raw, entirely devoid of its usual crackle. His eyes hold a deep sadness you had only ever seen in your own reflection. Your posture visibly softens at his sorrowful reaction. The realization hit you: He never got to meet his son. At least you were granted a moment with your baby swaddled in your arms. Alastor hadn't been so lucky. 

“ Yes.. his name is Eugene. He turned 50 last year...He was such a beautiful baby. He had your brown eyes and curly hair. I swear I could almost hear you in his laughter.” The corners of your mouth begin to peak up in response to the remembrance. Despite the short time he had been a part of your life, Eugene was everything you lived for. You endured every sleazy comment and blood splattered old fashioned in the hopes you could see him again. You even went as far to marry the bar’s immoral owner. You suffered a lifetime of abuse and the plight of that man's own children on the half hearted promise you might have been able to regain custody in your newfound stability.

“Did he live a good life?”  He was overtaken with dream-like sun spotted snapshots of you and his son. The hypothetical moments alleviated his guilt slightly. At least in his absence you weren’t entirely alone. Alastor's legs carried him to your side. He wanted nothing more than to wipe the melancholy from your face and offer you comfort. His hand gently outstretched to your shoulder. The silence that overtook the room was hinted in comfort instead of animosity.

“ Yes..he did" you finally respond. 

Your mind wanders to the flower shop he owned downtown and its painted green exterior. The lavender cursive of the sign above it read "Eugene's Fanciful Flowers". He was a complete and total dork, just like his father. The older you got, the more you found yourself walking past it. He had sent you a bouquet of daffodils once. You kept them in the vase next to your bed long after they had begun to wilt and shrivel. You weren't sure how he knew of your existence or even where you lived. He was only 18 months old the last time you had held him in your arms. You weren't really his mother, just a circumstance of his birth. You never had the chance to watch him grow. 

"I just never got to see it” You snap out of your memory inspired daze.

He never got to meet his son because he chose not to. Any remorse you felt was quickly scrapped from your system. You could have watched your son’s mind grow and learned the nuances of his little voice if Alastor had just stayed. That’s all he had to do. You didn’t care if your eventual marriage with him would have crumbled in the process. For all you cared, he could continue his distant nature and whatever wicked deeds he pleased, just as long as he stayed…He made his choice to walk that crestfallen path alone, separating you from him and your son in the process. You shrugged off his soothing hand and turned away, effectively burning a fire flecked wall between the two of you. 

“I had to give him up. The radio show shut down in your absence. I couldn’t support the both of us with what little I made at the bar.” Bitterness seeps into your previously softened voice. You weren’t going to allow yourself to be manipulated by his falsified concern. The mirage of imagined moments you had collected of your son over the years flashed through your mind all at once. You were devastated by the memories you didn’t get the chance to make.

“Y/n.. I am so sorry.” He is nearly frozen in place, shocked by the sudden shift in your demeanor. If you weren’t so angry, the pathetic broken string of words would have shattered your desolate heart.

“ You can stop pretend to care Alastor. You had no issue leaving us then- What do you really want from me? Just get it over with so I can go back to forgetting you exist.”  The short horns peaking out from your hair nearly doubled in size. You were growing frustrated with his half assed excuses and blatant lies. In that moment, you didn’t care if he disappeared entirely. The deserted lovesick island you had so often found yourself stuck on burned to the ground in the back of your mind. 

“Why would I, an overlord, want something from a weaker demon such as yourself. I don’t know who placed that foolish notion into your head, but I assure you, I don’t want anything from you” Anguish accented the pungent inflection of each word. Alastor was growing tired with your antics he didn’t want anything from you other than your forgiveness. He had apologized for the first time in decades, and meant it. Why couldn’t you just accept that? Your resentful resolve exasperated him to no end.

“ I just wanted to see you again, I thought you might like the same, evidently I was wrong.” His typical smile pressed into an uncharacteristic sharp line.

“Will you please just stop?” Your voice raised far more than a few decibels. He couldn’t take the hint, and you were not sober enough to keep reiterating it.

“Darling it has been agony sitting around waiting for you here, only to find out you’re cavorting around with Valentino. Leaving you wasn’t my fault, you can’t blame me for something I didn’t wish to do. As much as I wish to I can’t control my circumstances. I’ve already apologized I don’t know what else you want me to do."  He would gladly do anything you asked to mend the bridges you had set ablaze in your unreasonable fury. He hadn’t meant to die, it just sort of happened. Were you really blame him for his untimely demise?

“Didn’t wish to do? How stupid do you think I am?” You scoffed.

“The only thing I want you to do is leave.” Your voice wavered but the sentiment was strong. He could almost see the fighting spirit that traced your form. Alastor couldn’t help but laugh. He had done nothing but answer your call, and you had the audacity to reject his answer. If you wanted to fight, he would fight with you. If nothing else, it kept you talking to him.

“Naturally, because you are just so much happier leashed to Valentino and spinning around that pole” He taunted, his scornful sneer seeping into his cadence.

"Believe me I'd rather be anywhere else-" You snapped. He had added fuel to the fire and the weight of its introduction flooded you with spite.

“Don’t pretend that you’re any different from him Alastor. You are two sides of the same coin- except unlike you, Valentino actually owns my soul. I have to put up with this shit from him. I’m under no obligation to take it from you. I am not a toy for you to pick up and put down whenever you need something to play with- I’m not some tool for you to use whenever decide you need a favor.” 

You didn’t really believe the words coming from you, you just wanted to hurt him the way he hurt you. Evidently it worked a little better than you anticipated. His eyes contorted into the shape of radio dials, the static erupting from his core in tandem. His height over you nearly tripled, as the horns on his head wept out jet black roots that stretched into the ceiling. His voice distorts into a vicious growl.

“You don’t get to stand here and pretend that I am entirely to blame. It isn’t my fault your life went so poorly. Let’s think reasonably for a moment, provided you haven’t completely lost it. You could have made any number of different choices, but you went with the easiest option, just as you always have. As for your current situation, you did the same. Although I regret not finding you sooner, you clearly had the ability to reach out if you truly needed something. You don’t get to blame me because you finally started to regret your careless mistakes. You have no right to be angry with me for your own choices. Look at how pathetic you’ve become y/n.” He grasps your chin, tilting it to meet your eyes in the mirror. 

“I don’t know how I ever managed to love someone stupid enough to waste their soul on nothing more cheap liquor and lust rolled cigarettes.” 

The radio static that had permeated the room just seconds before fizzled out leaving you alone in the silent pit. His antlers returned to their normal size as he observed the void that replaced your sparkling eyes. As soon as he saw the tears welling up within you, he realized what he had said. 

 In actuality, he didn’t mean a word of it. In his time in hell, he had grown too accustomed to uncovering the insecurity of his opponents. In that moment, he had forgotten you really weren’t one. 

He didn’t truly blame you for anything that had happened. How could he?  He knew he was mostly at fault for the more unfortunate aspects of your life. His heart incessantly throbbed with guilt just thinking of what you must have gone through. He hadn’t known what he left you with in such an unforgiving world. If he had, he would have found some way to pluck the bullet from his skull and return home to you. 

As for the quality of your after-life, he knew the blame belonged entirely to Valentino. You had always been strong, but you had never been cruel. To survive in this hellish landscape, you had to be on some level. You probably would have ended up just another lifeless body bloodying up the street if you hadn’t taken the offer. Valentino had taken advantage of that, and Alastor hadn't been there to help you find another solution. Even if you didn’t want his help, he would never forgive himself if he didn’t find a way to break the deal you had made. 

 “Get out.” You didn’t have enough strength for anything more than a whisper.

 His eyes bore into yours as a single tear slipped down your face. He hadn’t noticed the deep scratches that decorated your cheeks or the dark purple bruises that formed under your contour until that moment. They had been hastily covered in concealer and he hadn’t been close enough to notice the jagged indentations until then. The ears perched atop his head began to twitch as his mind sparked with an entirely different form of rage...As soon as he figured out what twisted soul had dared to lay a hand on you, all of hell would hear their screams. 

 His grasp on your chin softens as he traced the edge of each scratch with his free hand.

“Who did this to you” 

“Get out.” You tear your face from his hold. 

“No I’m not leaving you here” he stated, the desperation of his tone rimmed the edges his lanky frame. He took a step towards you and you took a step away. 

“Get the fuck out Alastor. Now.” Your eyes began to glow a familiar pink. 

“Y/n, I didn’t mean t-“

“Just go” you cut him off before he has the chance to put a word in edgewise. You had been through enough. You didn’t need his excuses to confuse you more. Your eyes squeeze shut as the objects in the room began to float. All you wanted was for him to go away. 

“I won’t leave you again” He stood his ground.

“Leave me alone” You were practically screaming at this point. If he couldn’t listen to your request, you would just have to be louder to make him listen. Your voice reverberates throughout the room, effectively shattering both the light bulbs surrounding your mirror and the mirror itself. The residual glass scattered through the space and into your hair. 

To your surprise, he doesn't respond. The remaining floating objects fall to the ground in a piercing clatter. Your eyes shoot open at the sudden noise.

Other than the abundant mess, there was no trace he had ever been there to begin with. Even the roses he had brought for you had dissipated. You stood alone in the glass covered room, thankful he had taken his leave. The swirling overload of emotion made you feel ill. You replayed the conversation a few times in your head, each replay inspired a deeper feeling of regret and a plethora of questions you no longer had the opportunity to ask. 

A/N:

Hey yall thank you sm for the support I adore each and every one of you!!

Also a note about the content revolving around abusive relationships: This is going to be a bit long winded but I feel it's important to be said. The content in this chapter as well as chapter 2 features some pretty awful depictions of abuse. I want to check in and make sure that this isn't coming off as an overly done cliche or a cheap plot device to further the story. In no way is that my intention. I know that I am a very small writing page but it's important to me that I dont accidentally wind down the same path a lot of larger entertainment companies follow. I've drawn from the experiences of my friends who have gone through similar things as well as my own to try and prevent that. However I am also aware my writing style is a bit..dramatic? If you find that it is coming across negatively, and if you feel comfortable, don't hesitate to message me normally or anonymously. I will gladly listen to anything you have to say!!

#hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor x reader #valentino being a nasty fucker #Alastor really just can't communicate well and you are lowkey stupid #like ok ms girl jump to conclusions #tbh if i was her id give him a lap dance and forget everything #why am i like this #valentino #...can die #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #you best believe the shitty song fic titles are coming back next chapter #omg theyre back! #i was high off my ass writingn this so no guarantee its good.

[alastor-simp]

Antidote💊 - Angel Dust x Powerful Reader Part 2

⚠️Warning- This story contains mentions of violence/sexual themes, so skip the parts if they make you very uncomfortable. Story will get a bit steamy towards the end ⚠️

"ENOUGH!!" A loud voice boomed from behind the two. Valentino jumped and glared past his shoulder, finding you standing there, glaring with immense rage. Angel looked on you in shock, wondering how the heck you got in here. Valentino let go of Angel's neck, causing him to sink to the floor, gasping for breath. "How the flying f✪✪✪ did you get in here?!" Valentino sneered at you, standing up to his full height. Trying to suck in a breath, Angel stared at you, eyes watering from the tears. He extended his hand out to you. "Y-Y/N! Its okay. Get outta here!" Begging you with his voice, he didn't want you to suffer at the hands of his boss. Stepping closer to Valentino, you glared into his eyes, icy blue irises flaming with anger. "Angel is coming with me right now!" Guffawing with laughter, Valentino bent over holding his stomach, amused at your words. "Oh this is priceless. You seem not to know who you are messing with, little b✪✪✪✪?" Raising an eyebrow at him, you gave an evil chuckle: "Let me show you exactly who I am."

A cool breeze began to blow through the whole room, shocking Valentino as he was wondering what the hell was going on. Icicles began to arise from the area where you stood, traveling across the room and towards the ceiling. The air turned cold, deadly, even taking in a breath felt like a stab in the throat. Valentino was in utter disbelief at your show of power. Blue ice began to appear on your hands, morphing into frozen claws. The color of your hair turned snow-white, and your once brown eyes, began to glow an ominous cerulean blue. Angel wrapped his arms around himself, trying to cover himself from the coldness, while staring at you in utter shock. An evil smile emerged from your face, almost as demonic as Alastors during his transformations, as you walked slowly, like a predator stalking its prey, towards Valentino. "Figured out who I am yet?" Cocking your head at Valentino, you stared up at him, amused at his reactions. Dread emerged from his eyes, as Valentino realized you were not to mess with, but his tendencies got the better of him and he moved to strike. In a split second, he was pinned against the wall, shards of ice impaling his wing. Attempting to break free was impossible, your shards were too strong. "HAHA its amazing how many people try that and fail!" Your feet carried you over to the pinned moth, enjoying his struggle. "Who the hell are you?!" he screamed out, trying to remove himself from his position. "I am the overlord, Morana! Still surprised you haven't caught that by now, but you are a dumba✪✪, so it was to be expected" A sharp tooth smile was etched onto your face. "As I said before Angel Dust is coming back to the hotel with me. Understand?" Valentino continued to stare at you in fear, before his signature smirk came back. "Fine, take him back! Won't do you any good! He is bound to me by contract. Sooner or later, he will come crawling back to me!"

Angel listened to all of this, still in shock by what was happening. Valentino's words affected him greatly, as tears rained down his cheeks. Your face lacked any emotion as you inched closer to Valentino. A large icicle claw raised towards his lower regions, where his privates were. "!!!!!" Valentino jerked, wondering what the heck was going on. The sharpness of your claws, were digging into his skin, while a trail of ice began to form around the area. "You must really value this part of yourself. It would be extremely traumatizing for you if it were to SNAP OFF!" Digging your claws deeper, a trail of blood began to pool down below you, then freezing the second it connected with the ground. "Imagine the headlines! Di✪✪ face Valentinos package removed violently and cascaded in a block of ice for all to see!" Your demonic laugh filled the room, as Valentino screamed in agony. "STOP! PLEASE I WILL DO ANYTHING!" Begging was his last resort, proving he valued his di✪✪ more than anything. "I will let go, under one condition." Valentino stared at you in fear, mixed with some hope. You leaned closer and whispered into his ear. "Dissolve the contract, along with the copies."

Widening his eyes in shock, Valentino jerked back, furious at your request, no way was he going to lose his money maker. Shrugging your shoulders at his response, you took a step back. "Suit yourself." The claw began to elongate, cutting into his skin. Valentino screamed bloody murder, as he felt the sensation of the sharp icicles going in. "OKAY OKAY!!!" Valentino screamed out, causing you to stop. A glow appeared in front of the both of you, expanding to reveal a golden contract. There was a signature at the bottom: "Anthony", so that was Angel's real name. A demonic language began to spill from Val's lips and the contract began to rip before dissolving. "And the copies" Grunting, Val caused more glows of light to appear, performing the same ritual, and canceling all of the contracts. "Thats all of them." Valentino rasped out, as he stared down at the floor in defeat and utter humiliation. "Excellent!" Your claw removed itself from his flesh, blood continuing to drip from the area. You kept him pinned to the wall, a fitting punishment for someone like him. Moving closer you whispered into his ear. "If I ever see you near Angel again, hear you call his phone or threaten those he cares about. I will freeze your body and leave you out in the streets as a gift for the angels at the next extermination." Valentino whimpered in fear, nodding his head.

Moving away from him, your eyes gazed over at Angel, who was still crumpled on the floor. The ice around your hands began to disappear, and the frosted air began to clear, except for the ice shards holding Valentino. Getting on your knees in front of Angel, you asked if he was okay. Still shaking, Angel wasn't able to utter a word, but he nodded his head at you. Wrapping your arms around him, you lifted him up, bridal carrying him. Yes you were shorter then him, but you were still extremely strong. Angel remained silent, his head nuzzling into your neck, as he wrapped his arms around you. The both of you left the room, leaving the pathetic insect behind. Charlie spotted you holding Angel, as you left the dressing room. She insisted on knowing what happened, but you told her not to worry, and that it was time to head back to the hotel, as Angel was injured as well. Charlie nodded and the both of you left the establishment.

The shock on everyone's face when they saw you carrying Angel Dust, through the doors of the Hotel. The bombardment of questions came flooding at you, but Charlie was able to quiet them down. Pointing at Husk, you told him to help carry Angel Dust back to his room, and draw him a bath as well, seeing as he was still shaking. Husk complied and took Angel from you, carrying him to his room. Niffty ran to the kitchen, going to make some food and tea for Angel. Charlie went to Vaggie and calmed her down, as she was fuming that someone hurt Angel. Heaving a deep breath, you placed your hands against your face, trying to calm down as your emotions were still running high. Alastor was the only one who was still with you in the lobby, observing you while cocking his head. His smile was still there, but his eyes were expressing concern, especially having seen you and a bruised Angel. "Y/N my dear? Care to fill me in on what happened?" He approached you, gazing down at you, waiting for your response. Heaving a sigh, you looked up at Alastor and explained everything that transpired at Valentino's club. "Despite what I did, I'm aware there is going to be consequences with my actions since I just injured one of the three Vee's. If they plot something, I will show force and defend this hotel and everyone in it." Red irises continued to gaze at you, locking on to your determined eyes. Al placed his hand on your shoulder. "Y/N, you saved Angel, and he must be very grateful that you did! I doubt the other Vee's will even attempt anything unless they want to suffer your icy wrath and m̵̹̌̔͠i̷̪̼͙̅̀͗͆n̷̫̮̻̲͑͒̍̈́̔͜ė̴̠̯̮̩͂̐͘͝!"Demonic symbols appeared in the air before they disappeared.

Smiling at Al, you thanked him for making you feel better. Alastor smiled back at you, placing his hands behind his back. "Now then! I'm pretty sure there is a certain someone that you want to check on! Best be off now, my dear!" Alastor snapped his fingers. Your body then was teleported from the lobby to the door of Angel's room. Entering inside, You spotted Husk sitting on the bed, appearing sad. Husk's ears twitched, seeing that you had entered the room. "Hey kid, Angel is in the bathtub. I would be cautious though, he is a bit on edge." Husk said, while walking towards you. Thanking Husk, you told him it was okay to head back to the lobby. Husk nodded as he patted your head, before leaving Angels room.

Peeking your head into the bathroom, you tried to spot Angel. Steam filled the room, and in the center was Angel, sitting in the bathtub, covered in bubbles. His head was against his legs as he was hugging them with his many arms. Slowly approaching, you sat near the edge of the tub, next to him. "Angel? Are you alright?" Eyeing him, you wanted to make sure he was ok with you getting closer, as you placed a hand on his back. "Why?" was what you heard from Angel, as his face was still muffled between his legs. Tilting your head, you asked him why what? "WHY DID YOU DO THAT FOR SOMEONE LIKE ME?! I DON'T DESERVE TO BE SAVED!" Angel bursted all of this out, his eyes staring back at you angrily. "I wanted to help you Angel. What was I suppose to do, let you get abused by that psychopath?" Angel scoffed at you. "I'm use to dealing with his bull✪✪✪✪. I never asked you to do all that stuff." Getting angry, you grabbed Angel and pinned him to the wall, splashing some water on to the ground, forcing him to look at you. "YOU MAY NOT HAVE TOLD ME TO DO ANYTHING, BUT YOUR EYES CLEARLY DID!! YOU WERE TERRIFIED OF HIM, OF VALENTINO! I SAW YOUR FACE WHEN YOU ANSWERED THE PHONE AND WHEN CHARLIE AND I WERE AT THE STUDIO! YOU LOOKED COMPLETELY TRAUMATIZED! I CHOSE TO SAVE YOU BECAUSE YOU DESERVED BETTER THEN THIS AND I CARE ABOUT YOU! YOU DIDN'T DESERVE ALL THAT TRAUMA, ANTHONY! NONE OF IT!" Angel stared at you, listening to you belt out all of this to him and calling him by his true name. The tears came flooding back, as Angel started to break down in front of you. Letting go, you grabbed him into a hug, comforting him. You apologized for having to pin him like that but he needed to listen to you.

Angel continued to cry, his makeup combining with the tears, dropping down into the soapy water. You moved your hand to his back, rubbing comforting circles into it. "I'm too far gone to be saved toots. Valentino has me so drugged up on his poison and bull✪✪✪✪. He knows I'm gonna come crawling back to him. Ready to chug down on his poison like a fuc✪✪✪ addict." Angel had let you go, going back to his previous position of hugging himself inside the tub. Placing your hand against his cheek, you motioned him to look at you. Angel questioned what you were doing, until lips locked onto his. Gasping, he wasn't expecting a kiss from you. You kissed him softly, almost afraid that if you went to far he would break. Melting into the kiss, Angel closed his eyes, pulling you closer towards him. The kiss lasted a minute before it came to an end, leaving you both gasping for breath. "What was the smooch for?" His white fur, was sporting a a bright pink, as he continued to take in breaths. "Antidote. If your so soaked up on Val's poison, then I will be your antidote." Angel stared at you, shocked at your statement towards him. "HAHAHAHAHAHA OMG TOOTS, YOUR SO FREAKING CORNY!" His smile had returned to his face, as he exploded in laughter in front of you. His laughter was contagious, and soon you followed after him.

The laughing session soon quieted down, and the both of you stared at each other. Angel eyes were gazing at you softly, moving one of his hands to trace your lips. "Could ya do it again?" Looking at him shocked, you continued to stare at him, as he continued to trace your lips. "Y-ou want me to kiss you again?" Angel responded by pulling you, placing you inside the tub and on his lap. "Yes." His eyes were looking at you lovingly, making your heart skip a beat. Moving slowly, you leaned in closer, capturing him in another kiss. The both of you moved in sync, moving slow and tenderly. His lips were like pillows, incredibly soft. This felt heavenly, giving you goosebumps and butterflies in your stomach. The both of you broke apart, string of saliva between your lips. Angel placed a hand on your cheek, moving to kiss your forehead. "Wanna continue this on the bed?" His voice whispered into your ear, sending chills down your back. You became tongue-tied, and responded to Angel by nodding your head.

Your back landed flat on the bed. Angel crawled onto it, hovering over you. His fur was still wet from the bath, as it was dripping on to you. He was beautiful, you thought as you continued to gaze at him. "Um Angel. You don't have to do this if you don't want to. I'm pretty sure your body is exhausted from work. Plus you prefer guys right, so you-" A finger was placed on to your lips, silencing your words. "Shh baby. It's alright~" Angel was looking down on top of you, admiring you with his heterochromic eyes. His hands traced your face, your arms, and legs, causing your heart to flutter. "Since ya gonna be my antidote, baby. I better indulge in it~."

Tagging : @saturnhas82moons, @unholycheesesnack, @luujjvi , @forbidden-sunlight , @pinkcrystal44 , @veethewriter , @rains-sleeping , @danveration , @sarahwasbeforeee , @cookiekyo , @iiotic , @delectableworm , @91062854-ka , @lovesomemha

Part 1 Here

Epilogue Here- Smut Warning

#angel dust angst #angel dust fluff #angel dust x reader #hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbin angel dust #angel dust #powerful reader #violence #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel vaggie #hazbin hotel headcanons #hazbin hotel alastor #the three v's #hazbin hotel valentino #valentino #hazbinhotel #hazbin hotel 2024 #amazon series #amazon prime #steamy at the end #slight smut #romance #x reader #fanfiction #hazbin hotel fanfiction #angst with happy ending #justice for angel dust #vivienne medrano

[dovithedarklord]

Stucked

You're trapped in a game and a new threat is lurking.

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Pairing: John "Soap" MacTavish x reader

Tags: Mentions of death, Mentions of blood and gore, Blood and Violence, Sexual Scenes, Alternate Universe, No use of Y/N, Not Beta Read, AFAB Reader

Trigger Warning: Contains violence, blood and smut in detail. Please, keep that in mind!

⚠️MDNI⚠️

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Author's Note

This idea came to me while I was running and I had to write it down.

Just a short story that will have a sequel, I guess.

The story is inspired by this manhwa: https://cloudrecess.io/manga/dreadful-night

If you can, read it, it's great!

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You stare out of the car window with glassy eyes, and although it's not the first time that the lush green of the forest bathed in the light of the setting sun slips by on the horizon, it still manages to put the tension back into your stomach every single time. The peace out there could lull anyone into a false sense of security. But not you. It can't fool you anymore.

The same female voice comes from the radio, and you already know every single word of that damned song by heart. But even if you would show your displeasure, even if your companion sitting in the passenger seat would look for another radio station, the next time still the same godforsaken music would be playing. This is the background noise every time you return to the starting point, and it has almost become a habit that this melodic introduction starts your suffering all over again.

At first, as you woke up from your slumber in the back seat, the unfamiliar surroundings made you feel as though the vague world of your dreams had bled into reality, and now you found yourself in some bizarre fairy tale. But this is the twenty-second time that you come to your senses in the vehicle moving down the bumpy forest road, and you slowly start to get used to the stomach-turning cheerfulness repeated in a loop, which welcomes you every single time. And it was enough for you to feel the metallic taste of the blood filling your mouth once, and find yourself here again after feeling the icy pain of the knife slitting your throat, to understand that you are not in reality. Although the rough material for your jeans under your fingers, the floral scent of the perfume in the car, and the bitter taste of stomach acid creeping into your mouth seem perfectly real, just like the agony of your latest death, but you've learned that it's all just an appearance. An illusion. In which you have been imprisoned for weeks, and for exactly that long you are forced to die again and again, because you won't escape until you finally find the way out at the end of the mysteries that keep multiplying.

You don't know how you got here, but that doesn't matter anymore. The important thing is that you’re stuck in a game, and you have to find out how to get out of it before this madness consumes the last shred of your sanity.

A loud laughter comes from the front, the blonde girl sitting behind the wheel recounts with a grin, how her ex-boyfriend tried to perform an erotic dance to this song, and how it ended in a late-night visit to the ER. Pam is that typical obligatory extroverted character, whose only role in such games is to be brutally murdered when she's about to get naughty with someone. She's a nice but stupid girl, and it's not her fault that whoever created her intended her to have this tragic end.

Rebecca, your other companion, who only laughs at Pam's story while sitting in the passenger seat, shily hides the blush rising on her face with her hand. And although she's a charming girl, you've seen her bloody corpse too many times for you to remember her blank, worldless eyes and her pale mouth frozen in an eternal scream instead of her radiant smile. She is the first to die. Always. And you might have felt sorry for her in the beginning, but you no longer have the strength to have compassion for someone who only exists in this nightmarish world.

As soon as the outline of the homey cabin appears at the end of the road, the foreboding appears in you like a familiar friend, which slowly closes your insides in an iron grip, as if the pull of the stress that awakens in your veins would help anything. After all, it always ends the same. You search for a clue, you die and you end up here. And the only thing that keeps you from going crazy is the faint hope that the more secrets you uncover in this goddamn purgatory, the closer you get to the exit. Maybe.

The car slows to a stop in front of the location of your late autumn vacation, and the two girls jump out of the car with excited laughter, arguing over who will occupy which guest room in the huge house. The same dialogue, the same room layout, the same ear-splitting giggles from Pam's mouth that remind you of her screams cutting through the silence of the night, as she gets gutted like a trapped deer. You've seen her mangled body too many times for her laughter to revive the images of the delicate, wet glistening of her intestines, as the pale light of the moon surrounds her lifeless form on the cold wooden floor.

With a weary sigh, you grab your backpack resting next to you, mentally preparing in advance to once again suffer through the excruciating play that, like a prologue, leads up to the horrors that await you in the night. You list the thousand steps you have to take to find out where you are in the game, to discover if your previous death was in vain. Did you get a new puzzle that brings you closer to the finish line? Has another path been revealed for you to continue on, one that might finally take you back to the real world? Your chest hurts when you realize that you don't even remember what it was like to not live in this hell. With each passing night, the memory of reality floats further away, and the ghost of tears burns your eyes when you realize that even your real name sounds like a false fabrication in your brain. As if you never existed outside the confines of this dreadful place.

The door of the cabin opens with a loud creak, and this disturbs you from your thoughts that are spiraling into ever darker depths. And as a man appears on the doorstep, you almost taste the bitterness of anger on your tongue, because although anyone would be fooled by the wide grin on his face, anyone would be enchanted by those vivid blue eyes, and anyone would be swept off their feet by the playful friendliness he embraces your two traveling companions in his strong arms with as a greeting, but you already know him all too well. After all, Johnny has killed you at least eleven times, with the same sickly sweet smile on his curved lips, with which he now turns to you again.

"Bunny!" He beams, and you have to use all your strength to suppress the stomach acid rising in your throat from the nausea that fills you from the fake kindness emanating from him. "It's good to see ye again!" He pulls you into a tight hug, as you shamble to the small terrace, and as he presses you to his broad chest, his scent, which you would recognize from everywhere, creeps into your nose. The aroma of his cologne, the saltiness of his skin, and that smell that you couldn't quite place before. The smell of blood clings to him like a faint, barely perceptible phantom that only you can sense. You've witnessed it too many times.

"You too, Johnny."  You reply, each word burning your tongue like poison, but that's the script. You have to get into this act because there's no point in resisting. The story progresses the same whether you oppose it or not. The weirder you act in their eyes, the more the game will punish you later. And so you lose the chance of finding that tiny crumb that might help you get closer to your escape.

And from this point on, time crawls on leaden legs, and you sit through the impromptu dinner with gritted teeth, which was made by the man for you, while he was waiting for you to arrive at his modest little shack. He invited you here to celebrate your birthday. Your birthday according to the game, that is. You remember your own more and more faintly, and this makes you fall into despair enough to drag yourself through the events with a forced smile, like a puppet being pulled on a string by an unknown hand.

Sometimes you have the stray thought that you might be stuck here forever, and that you are forced to fight again and again in an endless circle, without end, without hope. And this suddenly makes the food taste like ash, which you force into your mouth with automatic movements.

"Is somethin' wrong, hen?" Comes the worried question, and blinking in confusion, you look up from your plate to Johnny, who is eyeing you with his dark brows furrowed in worry, as if your behavior would really disturb him. And you just shake your head with practiced happiness, putting a faint smile on your lips that doesn't reach your eyes.

"No. Not at all. My stomach is just a little upset. But it'll pass." You explain, quickly gathering your faux, artificial cheerfulness, because you can't deviate from the story now. Tonight you might have a chance to discover where the last clue leads to, and you shouldn't attract any unnecessary attention if you want to continue your search later. Let everything go in its own way until the shit inevitably hits the fan. But you still have work to do before that. It's only a few hours. You just have to bear it for that long.

This seems to calm him, for in an instant the lines of doubt disappear from his features, to be replaced by that disgusting kindness. And you are already familiar with the barely visible glimmer in those beautiful eyes, which makes you feel like a startled little rabbit being cornered by a fox. Johnny is a threat wrapped in honeyed words and friendly smiles, which was able to lower your guard one too many times. And you paid the price of your carelessness every single time.

And when the whiskey bottle, which was brought out in your honor halfway through the dinner, is finally empty, and the cake, which the man so generously bought for you before he came here, has been eaten, then the essential part of the evening arrives. Rebecca's phone rings, and she hastily apologizes so that she can go out into the cool night and immerse herself in the argumentative conversation she is having with her boyfriend. And you almost start to feel sorry for her, that death finds while she tries to get her love life straight. She doesn't even notice how deep the forest swallows her in the middle of the fight, and she is easy prey in the desolate wildness of trees and bushes. After the first three times, you no longer go after her or try to save her. You can't protect either of them. They are all animals for slaughter in the eyes of the game.

Johnny also retires for the night, claiming that the alcohol has gone to his head, and wishing you a "good night" he goes upstairs to sleep. For a while, you believed that he was indeed sleeping every time, and you honestly fell for the innocent performance he gave you, when the corpse of one of your friends was found. You seriously wanted to believe that he wasn't a threat to you. But then he broke your neck as easily as a twig. You will never be naive enough to trust him again.

"What a pity that you can't fuck your friends." Pam sighs longingly, and she almost undresses the man walking up the stairs with her eyes, biting her lip as her gaze glides over his broad back hidden trapped in the tight shirt. There is no denying that Johnny is an attractive man. It's a shame he's so handsome and even knows it. But the most evil creatures tend to be the most beautiful. You have learned this well.

Finally, you are alone after Pam has also left to take a shower, and you can begin what every nerve fiber of yours has been screaming for for hours. You jump up with nimble movements and hurriedly head in the direction of the kitchen, dropping the feigned serenity from your face. Last time, you found a dirty, yellowed picture in the woodshed, which took a while to decipher, but then you realized where to look.  As you enter the small room, you pull out the photo to hold it up in front of you, comparing it to the room bathed in the warm light coming from the living room. Although Johnny renovated this house, you can still easily find the wall where a refrigerator now rests, but based on the bright red circle in the photo, you have to look for the next clue somewhere there. You slip the picture back into your pocket and try to search for something suspicious with the flashlight of your phone, so you can better see what you're dealing with, there's no other use for this damn device anyway. You can't turn on the lights because that would immediately alert the other killer lurking outside. You learn a new lesson every time you fuck up, but you get smarter with each attempt. You'll be out of here soon. You have to get out of here.

As you peer under the fridge on all fours, squinting, a board creaks under your palm, pressing down a bit under your weight as you lean on your hands. You know that this is a sign, and as you kneel up to look for something to pry open the wood with, your eyes settle on a knife left on the kitchen counter. The whipped cream is still smudged against the cool metal, and suddenly the unwanted image enters your mind as the same blade slowly sinks into your chest, breaking through the protection of your ribs to then penetrate your lungs, pouring warm blood into your throat. You swallow hard, forcing the memory of the metallic taste out of your mouth, and steeling yourself, you wrap your fingers around the knife so you can get back to work, because you can't dwell on this right now. There's no point.

You stick the knife under the board and carefully pry it open, making sure to stay as quiet as possible because you don't know what will trigger the next death flag. Even though you are now aware of the signs and actions that lead the attacker to find you, this miserable game still has many surprises in store. With a soft squeak, the wood pops open, and as a small dark hole is revealed underneath, you take your phone in your hand and cast light on it, and like a wild animal pouncing on its prey, you reach for the small object shining in a golden light. Your fingers find the relic resting there, and you examine the key in puzzlement, as you pull it out of its hiding place. What does this open? Too small to be for a door. Maybe a lock?

The realization hits your brain like a bolt of lightning, and you spring up and turn back towards the living room. The hope that you might find something valuable rises in you, so you hurry through the room still shrouded in intimate silence, to sneak upstairs with silent steps when you reach the stairs. You know, if Pam shows up to the noise, she'll be on your trail the whole time, and that way you'll only attract trouble sooner. It might be selfish, but it's easier to let her die alone than to be hunted down together. You need time, and the more you waste on supporting characters, the less you have left to progress. But even because of this, your sense of guilt is starting to fade.

As soon as you reach the upper floor, you see the door at the end of the long corridor, on which even at such a distance you can faintly see the padlock that keeps it closed. Until now, this fact wasn't important to you, because it immediately became clear that you can only get in if you have the key. You can't hack it with anything else, you can't tear it down, this damn diabolical place will only let you in if you find the right clue to it.

You stalk like a cat in the darkness of the corridor, and the sound of your footsteps is absorbed by the soft carpet running along the floor. You consider your every move, because a new way out is possibly within your reach, and you fear that the chance to find the next important hint may disappear at any moment. Your own soft breathing sounds deafening to your ears, and each heartbeat feels as if your heart would want to burst out of your chest. Every inch of your body fills with anticipatory tension as you creep closer and closer…

And then you hear the voices.

At first, the muffled sighs seem like nothing more than the soft snores of one of your sleeping companions, but then you hear a moan, and you are overcome with confusion. The closer you get to the door opening from the middle of the corridor, the louder the panting and the gentle rustling of the bedsheets become, and you try to recall who could be hiding there according to the script. But nothing comes into your mind, because that room has been empty until now, without role or importance.

And as soon as you get close enough, you understand what is going on behind the door left ajar. The only source of light in the darkness of the room is the moon peeking through the window, but you can perfectly make out the movements of the tightly entangled figures. Johnny looks almost otherworldly as the pale light paints the dance of the corded muscles on his back as his mouth smooths over Pam's throat, eliciting a lustful moan from her. One of his strong hands slides along her breasts, and soon after his lips stray there, he almost viciously bites her nipple, to receive a pained gasp in response. His palm rests on her hips, and as he digs his fingers into the soft flesh, his hips only meet hers with vigorous movements, filling the heavy air with almost obscene, wet sounds. And as he kneels up, his fingers glide along her thigh almost teasingly, so that, hooking his hand in the bend of her knee, he directs her leg to his shoulder, locking it in a vise-like embrace that makes his biceps bulge. He brushes his lips against her calf, and you see his teeth flash for just a moment before he sinks them into the delicate skin, drawing a lewd whimper from her mouth opening in surprise. His movements are restless, each thrust seems violent and desperate, and she just grabs at the sheet and starts pleading, encouraging him in tears to sink his cock into her pussy just a little bit harder. And with each passing moment, Johnny looks more like a beast lost in his pleasure, as low grunts and moans erupt from his throat as he pushes himself closer and closer to the edge. And your feet are almost rooted to the ground, and you're unable to tear your eyes away from them, as you lose control over your body from shock and disbelief. Even though you know you shouldn't be here, you shouldn't be watching them, suddenly too much information rushes through your senses into your brain to process what is happening.

But as Pam's back arches with a loud cry, and Johnny's hips stutter with a growl-like sound, the surreal image ends, because the man turns his head towards you as if he knew you were standing in front of the door, frozen in astonishment. Your stunned gaze meets his eyes, dilated pupils swimming in lust, and you feel like a deer stuck in the headlights, waiting to be hit by a car speeding towards it. His mouth stretches into a lazy, satisfied grin as he slides out of the panting girl and slowly begins to rub his cock, as if to tell you that it could be you if you would just give in to the temptation.

And that clears your mind in the blink of an eye, and you back away hastily, almost running to the door resting at the end of the corridor, before you would have time to further analyze the features of the man's face filled with post-orgasm bliss. What the hell is this new scene? This has never happened before…

You reach for the lock hanging on the door with trembling hands, but your fingers are still clumsy from the adrenaline pumping through your veins, and they only find the keyhole after many tries. And in the middle of your fumbling, you don't even notice how a dark shadow appears behind you, and you only realize that you're late and have failed, when a gloved hand grips the back of your neck and smashes your head into the hard wood of the door with an almost painful strength. The force of the impact resonates through your skull, and you clench your teeth with a yelp as the sharp pain rips through your head.

Black spots swim into your field of vision, and you have trouble when you try to focus your eyes to decipher who attacked you this time. And as soon as you catch a glimpse of the skull-like mask out of the corner of your eye, you realize that this time you only managed to get this far. When the knife glints in the killer's hand as he strikes you, you only bitterly realize through the blood filling in your mouth that the game is trying to divert you from the escape with more and more vile methods. Because you're convinced that Johnny's action was just another death flag that ended your search prematurely. And you surrender yourself to the darkness with the knowledge that you cannot let this happen again...

~

When you come to, you're sitting in the back seat again, and the melody of familiar music reaches your ears only as a low hum, because you know you're back at the beginning of the game. But what worries you much more is that you walked into a scene the previous night, which not only completely deviates from the usual pattern of all the events until now, but also represents a downright disturbing new development. So far, the script hasn't gotten sidetracked from the main story in the case of the supporting characters, and Pam should have been waiting in the shower for the killer to appear when you sneaked up to find the door with the lock. The fact that this story has changed so drastically helps the icy fingers of dread wrap around your stomach. Because you have no idea what kind of difficulties this will cause you.

The usual conversation takes place between the two girls, and when you arrive at the wretched cabin, they leap out of the car with the same enthusiasm, as if they weren't heading towards another painful death. But it doesn't matter to them anyway, because surrounded by carefree ignorance, they don't even know what awaits them.

When the door opens and Johnny's well-known figure appears, his face filled with desire flashes before your eyes almost on a cue, and you forcefully push the memory out of your head. This little interlude distracted you just enough to know you shouldn't fall for the game's nasty tricks again. Because you are more and more certain that it actively wants to hold you back and trap you here forever. The heated spectacle of the previous evening can only be due to this…

"Bunny!" The man greets you with the same bursting, false joy that he always shows you, but now you have to forcefully drive away the moans echoing in your ears, which surface in your head when you hear his deep voice. "It's good to see ye again!"  He says enthusiastically, and as his strong arms wrap around you, every single muscle of yours tenses, as the stress wakes up in you as a result of the fear that grips your insides. But it's even more worrying, as new fragments of memories flood the canvas of your mind, because the experience of seeing those hands glide over the body of your companion is too fresh to quickly overcome your embarrassment.

But you don't have time to think about how to get over these tangled emotions and continue the play, because suddenly you feel the man's hot breath on your ear, and in an instant, every part of you freezes like a frightened animal when the predator digs its claws into it.

"I hope ye liked what you saw, bonnie." The man grunts softly, and for a moment you think you misheard it. But as one of his hands creeps down to rest on your waist, and he presses you closer to him, the air gets trapped in your lungs with an almost painful force. "Because ye'll be next..." He whispers, and in his voice lies such a dark promise that it makes your blood run cold.

And as if nothing had happened, the moment ends suddenly, and as he steps away from you, he only looks down at you with his usual nauseating smile. But you see the dangerous predatory sparks in his eyes, and his gaze makes the little hairs rise up on your neck. And you soon realize that something is very wrong with the game. Fuck.

#call of duty #john soap mactavish #cod #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mctavish #soap #soap mactavish #john mactavish #johnny mactavish #soap cod #alternate universe #horror #soap x reader #soap x you #john mactavish x reader #john mactavish x you #soap mw2

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Your Mihawk has me weak on my knees so I wanted to request something for him.

S/O has scars on her body, mainly on arms. She does fight but some of them look… too precise. One time after she loses a fight she is really pissed and nervous, she goes to a place alone. There he sees her just giving herself a scar with a knife on her arm. Turns out she was taught scars are signs of losses and if she doesn't get one in battle then afterwards she needs to do it herself. That's why she's so determined to always win. She hates scars.

@patisilence tagging since I'm not sure if you'll get this since I had to save it as a draft to format everything right.

Anyway.

I DID IT I ACTUALLY FINISHED IT

I'M SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG 😭😭

And I honestly really really want to thank you. This is my first ever fic-request, for one.

And also, writing this has been an absolute emotional rollercoaster. I have kind of a personal history with self-harm and I wanted to depict it as realistically as possible. Which resulted in heavy focus on character development, which resulted in this practically turning into a novella. I'm going to split it up into a few chapters to streamline things and link them all in this post.

If I do it right, then the entire thing should already be posted when I post this, but I'm still pretty new to Tumblr so bear with me. Each chapter should be between 3k-4k words.

And ALSO ALSO I've been planning a longer Mihawk X OC fic, and I really hope you don't mind me using this concept for it? Because it honestly ties a lot of things together for me

Soooooo without further ado, here's the whole author note thing.

Your Scars Are Mine

Ch. 1

LA! Mihawk X AFAB!Reader

Tags: Fluff, Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Graphic Mentions of Violence, I guess that's it, I'm bad at this

⚠️ MASSIVE ASS TRIGGER WARNINGS⚠️ : Self-harm, Blood, Implied PTSD

Summary: In the few months that he has known you, Mihawk has noticed the scars on your arm. You've refused to talk about them and skirted around the subject successfully, but a trip to Shells Town throws everything out into the open in a way that neither of you were prepared for.

Ch. 2

Ch.3

You were hiding something.

In the few months that Mihawk had known you, he had come to learn a fair bit about you. He knew, for instance, that you had over the past few years made something of a name for yourself as a sword for hire, typically among pirate crews who required a more discreet touch.

That this reputation of yours had led the Buggy Pirates to hire you to assist in stealing a map of the Grand Line from a Marine base in Shells Town. You had failed to procure the map before it was stolen by other hands, leaving you in their debt. Buggy had sunk your sloop to prevent your escape, and you had gotten stuck working for the ridiculous crew for a brief time, remained stuck with them until the Strawhat upstarts offered you passage with them.

Mihawk knew you had traveled with them as far as Baratie, where you had crossed his own path for the first time at the bar on the ship's deck. Where you had approached him with a bargain—if he left Roronoa Zoro alive after their duel the following morning, you would serve him for a year, an errand girl to send off on whatever menial tasks the World Government assigned him.

"And why would I want a little bird flitting around after me around for an entire year?" Mihawk had asked coolly.

And yet you had made a fair point—acting as a government lapdog was growing old. He had been sent after the vice admiral's grandson, for heavens' sake, as if he had nothing better to do with his time than to handle the old fool's family disputes.

Though the surly pirate warlord wouldn't have dared to dream of admitting it at the time, you had his attention. Your offer of unquestioned devotion, your confident demeanor as you sipped a glass of whiskey and kept your eyes on his without showing an ounce of fear or intimidation. You were certainly an interesting diversion from the otherwise dull task that had been laid before him, and your certainty that he would accept your offer had irritated and intrigued him in near equal measure.

It was intrigue that won out in the end. He had left his challenger clinging to the edge of life and taken you with him on his departure. You stayed toe to toe with him in wit and banter, and that alone would have been more than enough to draw him closer to your charm. He had wanted you before two weeks were out, wanted to claim you as far more than his "errand girl," and it was easy to see from the way you effortlessly returned his subtle flirtations that you wanted the same.

And now you were lying back across his broad chest in the hammock aboard your new sloop, a book open over your chest and his hand resting over your stomach, his other tucked under his neck as he frowned thoughtfully up at the roof of the small ship's cabin, pondering over the whirlwind of events that had led up to this moment.

It had been just over two months since the pirate lord had taken you as his lover, and you had been an open book about most things. Your training under your grandmother. Your setting out on your own from a small island village to find your parents, or some clue of their disappearance. The many and varied pirate crews you had served as a hired hand.

Yet you refused to discuss your scars.

Any seafarer with a history as sordid as your own had their share of battle scars. Mihawk had a fair few of his own; one didn't become the most renowned swordsman in the world without a few losses, after all. Yet your voice turned to clear contempt when yours were mentioned, even in passing, and you tensed like a statue when his hands brushed over them. You were confident to the point of near arrogance, yet you clearly held nothing but shame and contempt for the many marks that marred your delicate skin.

Some of which appeared oddly...uniform, for having been gained in battle.

It was in part—in great measure, honestly—the mystery of you that had drawn him in to begin with, and this was just another mystery that Mihawk intended to unravel.

You closed your book abruptly, stirring him from his thoughts as he glanced down at you. He watched you gaze thoughtfully toward the ceiling for a long moment, your hand resting over his at your stomach, before you finally spoke up.

"Reading a book is just staring at a dead tree and vividly hallucinating."

You tilted your head back, grinning as his mouth turned down in a frown and his brow furrowed at your ridiculous statement. Mihawk sighed wearily, plucking the book from your hands and lightly rapping you over the forehead with it.

"No," he scolded, as you giggled softly. He sighed heavily again, dropping the book over the back of the hammock before pinching at the bridge of his nose. "Are you trying to give me a stroke?"

"No," you said, imitating his scolding tone. You stretched your arms out over your head, arching your back for a moment, before rolling over to lay across his chest and brush your lips to his. "But it's fun seeing the look on your face."

"You irritate my very soul, little one," he said, shaking his head as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

"And I enjoy every second of it," you countered, grinning as you laid your forehead against his.

"I can tell."

Your grin managed to draw a small smile from him, before he lifted a hand into your hair and pulled you down into a slow, deep kiss. Your fingertips came to rest at his broad shoulders, the hammock swaying slowly in the steady ocean waves carrying the ship along. He knew as well as you did that he wasn't honestly irritated—your strange sense of humor had grown on him, as starkly as it contrasted to his dry sarcasm, and he rarely had the pleasure of meeting anyone as adept at keeping up with his own banter.

You lay your cheek at his shoulder when your lips parted, your eyes slipping shut and your contented sigh tickling against his neck.

"If the wind holds steady it will be a few hours before we make port," you said, your voice low and soft. "I suggest we don't move from here in the meantime."

"I'm not sure I've ever heard a finer suggestion."

Mihawk pulled one of your hands to his lips, brushing a kiss across your knuckles. He pulled his hat down over his eyes to block out the sun pouring through the windows of the small cabin, tucked his hand back behind his neck again, and shifted beneath you to get comfortable as he closed his eyes. His arm remained curled around your waist, his hand slipping just beneath the hem of your shirt so his thumb could rub slow circles over your soft skin as you both drifted off toward the peaceful recess of sleep.

The first thing that struck Mihawk when he woke was that you weren't in his arms.

Every day and night for nearly two months, he had fallen asleep and woken with you against him, and the absence of your warmth jarred him instantly awake and aware. His eyes scanned around his surroundings as he sat up, taking in where he was—the small cabin of the sloop he had recently bought you as a replacement for the one Buggy's crew had sunk.

His sharp yellow eyes darted toward the door, taking in the sound of unfamiliar, muffled voices outside the cabin.

He was standing in an instant, straightening his hat and pulling Yoru onto his back as he slipped silently through the door and onto the small deck of the sloop.

There was another sloop tethered to yours.

A pair of no-name pirates holding you against the bow ny your arms, their captain pressing the barrel of his pistol to your forehead as they bickered.

"There has to be something on board."

"We could just take her. Looks like she's probably a feisty little thing."

"Still have to check the cabins. Could be—"

Mihawk cleared his throat.

The trio turned their heads in almost comedic synchrony, their jaws dropping at the mere sight of him leaning against the door of the cabin. Mihawk's eyes flickered from them to you, and you averted your eyes, clearly ashamed to be seen in such a compromising situation.

So he shifted his gaze back to the opposing pirates, his eyes flickering between each of them.

"You will remove your hands from the girl or I will gladly remove them for you," he said levelly, lifting his eyebrows.

They quickly let go of your arms, and stepped away when he moved forward to wrap a hand around your wrist and pull you to him. He curled his arm around your waist, lowering his head over yours for a moment and murmuring quietly, "Are you hurt?"

You shook your head no quickly, your jaw set at a rigid angle as you turned your gaze down to your feet, your shoulders tense. He pressed a light kiss to your temple for a long moment before lifting his gaze back to the trio that had dared board your ship, his eyes narrowing in an unspoken threat.

"Go." They remained frozen, glancing between each other. "Now."

They scrambled back over to their ship immediately, severing the ropes that were tethering it to yours. Mihawk kept his arm around you, but his eyes remained trained onto the opposing sloop as it drifted away on the wind, debating on just drawing his sword and splitting it in half on the spot.

He turned his attention back down to you when you began to pull away from him. He pulled you in close again, frowning. It wasn't at all like you to be bested by a few no-names, and it was clear that you weren't taking it very well.

"Tell me what happened," he said finally.

"I woke up," you said curtly. "Thought I'd check the charts and see how far we were from Shells Town. They were already on the deck. Seemed to think this was a small merchant vessel since there's no flag. I'd left my knives in the cabin and I was still half asleep when I came out here. By the time I registered what was going on, one of them had a pistol to my head."

You really weren't making a very good case for him to not sink their boat. He cut his eyes briefly toward the sloop before looking back down at you, your face shadowed by your hair as you stared down at the deck floor.

"Their captain started questioning me about cargo," you continued. "Told them there wasn't anything valuable on board. They were discussing taking me as compensation." You sighed heavily. "And that's when you chose to enter stage left and take approximately twenty years off the end of their lives."

He rolled his eyes the slightest bit at your quip. "I would have taken a great deal more than that had they hurt you."

"Well, they didn't," you replied, your voice still curt. Mihawk lifted an eyebrow. "And it's perhaps best not to go splitting any boats in half a stone's throw away from a naval base," you added, nodding back toward the bow of the vessel.

Mihawk gave a quick glance as well. He had been too focused on the fiasco he had just awoken to to notice that Shells Town was visible on the horizon now. It wasn't as if the Marines could do much about it if he did sink the sloop, but you were right—it would still be more of a hassle than it was worth. He sighed, shaking his head a little, and curled a hand under your chin to lift your gaze to his. You still kept your eyes averted, your jaw set. He hadn't seen you lose a fight before—apart from sparring with him while training, but that hardly counted.

You had proven to be quite the fighter when he had decided to test you. You were nowhere near his equal, but you knew precisely how to play to your strengths with your pair of daggers and your throwing knives. Your stature made you difficult to target even in single combat, your movements a graceful dance that toed the line between evasion and power.

Yet one loss—and a rather inconsequential loss, at that—and you were beating yourself up over it quite a great deal more than what constituted normalcy. Mihawk wasn't sure whether to scold you for being dramatic or attempt to comfort you.

"You were caught off guard, little one," he said after a long moment, brushing a thumb across your cheek. "There's no need to be so upset over that."

"I'm not upset, I'm annoyed," you retorted, pursing your lips a little. "Blades or no, I should have been able to take care of those idiots."

"Annoyed, then," he allowed with a small sigh. "And I've no doubt you would have had I not woke. I was simply able to handle it a bit more...subtly."

"Oh, yes, because sauntering out onto the deck with a giant sword and threatening to cut off their hands was so subtle," you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you finally rolled your eyes over to his, lifting your eyebrows.

"Don't be a brat," he chided lightly. "We still have at least half an hour before we make port." Mihawk abruptly wrapped his hand around your chin and pressed his lips to yours in a brief, deep kiss that made you draw in a sharp breath. He parted just as you started to lean into it, resting his forehead against yours. He lowered his voice to an intimate murmur. "I would truly hate to have to spend it punishing you, my little bird."

You quirked an eyebrow, your lips curving in a small, coy smirk. "No you wouldn't."

He gave you a thoughtful frown and a small shrug of his shoulder. "Perhaps not." You let out a small cry of alarm when he stooped down and quickly scooped you up from the deck floor, one arm beneath your knees and his other curled around your back. "I suppose we'll just have to find out."

You chuckled lightly as he carried you to the door of the main cabin, plucking his hat off of his head and placing it on your own as you brushed your lips to his in a soft, teasing manner. Mihawk lifted his eyebrows when you nipped lightly at his bottom lip.

"You're really pushing your luck, my dear," he cautioned.

He lowered you down to the double bed in the cabin, his thumb rubbing small circles at the back of your neck. You lifted yourself onto your elbows, your lips nearly brushing his before he pulled back just far enough to stop you, lightly gripping your hair at the nape of your neck to keep you from sitting up any higher. You gave a small whine of protest, but didn't try to struggle against his grip—you and he both knew there was no point.

"Lie down." His voice remained low and intimate, but there was a subtle command in his tone, in the way his gaze burned into your own. You bit your bottom lip lightly, lowering yourself back down onto the bed fully. A soft, quivering sigh left your lips as he slowly began slipping the buttons down the front of your shirt loose. "Hands over your head. And you don't move them an inch until I tell you you can."

"Mmm..." You hummed thoughtfully, and Mihawk paused in unbuttoning your shirt as you lifted your arms from the bed, holding your hands high above you, straight up in the air. "I think my arms might end up getting tired."

Your lips pursed a little, clearly struggling to keep a straight face, and he lifted an eyebrow at you. "You're certainly in rare form today."

Mihawk wrapped his hand around both of your wrists, shoving your hands down into the plush white comforter over your head, and a couple giggles escaped you before you bit your lip again. It was honestly a bit endearing, how cheeky you were being—and all the moreso, as it appeared you were being so brazen just so he could have his fun with your punishment.

You were enticing him more and more every passing day, beyond the physical desire that had led him to claim you as his a couple months ago. It wasn't a feeling he was particularly accustomed to, nor was he quite sure what to make of it yet. He knew only that when he had seen you held captive against the bow of the boat, an emotion had flashed through him for a moment that he hadn't experienced in years.

For the briefest moment, Dracule Mihawk had felt fear.

He was not ready to contend with the connotations of that.

And he was a bit too busy at the moment, anyway. He let his forehead touch yours, his lips hovering a breath away from your own.

"You don't move your hands," he repeated, tilting his head to just barely graze his lips against your neck, drawing a small moan from your lips, "until I give you permission. Understood?"

"Yes, sir..." you sighed softly, your eyes slipping shut as he kissed down your collarbone, pushing your shirt open. His hand released your wrists and trailed down your arms, down to knead at the soft tissue of your breast through the sheer lace of your bra, feeling your nipple harden against his palm. He tugged the cups down, just a bit too hard given he felt one of them tear in his grasp, but that was a problem for later, not now.

You gasped out when he briefly pulled one of your stiff nipples into his mouth, his grip tightening slightly around your ribcage as you arched your chest toward his swirling tongue. His gaze flicked up to watch you writhe and shudder under his touch, your fingers digging into the bedsheets behind you, your hands searching for anything to keep occupied with.

"Very good," he praised, lifting a hand to brush a few strands of hair out of your eyes and brushing his lips to your jaw. "You see?" He wrapped his hand around your jaw and lightly pressed his lips to yours. "It's much better when you're a good little bird, isn't it?"

"This—doesn't feel much like a punishment," you commented, gasping softly as he circled the pad of his thumb around your nipple, lightly skimming across it once or twice.

"Yet," he corrected.

And gave you a small, devilish smirk, before lowering his head and biting down on the tender skin at the crook of your neck. Just hard enough to leave behind a small bruise, to draw a sharp cry from your lips and send a shiver through your body.

He straightened out as you heaved a sigh, standing over you. Your eyes remained glued to him while he shrugged away his long coat and tossed it back into a chair behind him, noting how your hands tightened down on the bedsheets again.

"Remember we still have a half an hour before we reach Shells Town." His fingertips curled around the waist of your shorts, the lace of your panties beneath them, and slowly inched them down your hips. "I could spend the entirety of it teasing you." Mihawk noted the movement in your throat as you swallowed in nervous anticipation, your eyes glued to his as he pulled them up the length of your legs and off, flinging them aside. "Making you beg for release but never allowing you the satisfaction."

How beautiful it was that it only took a few words to pull a blush to your cheeks and make your breath hitch. He brushed a light kiss to your calf and pushed your legs apart, rubbing his palms up your inner thighs.

"You're going to have to be on your best behavior if you want more, my sweet little bird." Trailing a single finger up your soft folds, dragging through your slick arousal and across your clit, pulling a small whimper from your lips. "Or would you rather I just torment you?"

You bit your lip, shaking your head quickly, your eyes flickering between his eyes and his fingertips trailing up. It was a struggle for him not to chuckle at you—always just cheeky enough to be amusing, but you knew the pleasure he could give you, were so desperate for it that you folded like a cheap deck of cards under his slightest touch.

Absolutely perfect.

Mihawk moved his hands up from your thighs, curling an arm under your back to lift you up and shift you further back on the bed. Your breathing was ragged with anticipation as he brushed his lips to your stomach, trailing his hands back down to your hips, his lips lower and lower, grazing slowly across the soft skin between your hip bones.

Shifting lower and dragging his tongue slowly up your slit, circling the sensitive bud at the apex, giving a quiet growl of approval as your breathy, shuddering moans filled the small cabin and your hips arched in his hands.

His gaze turned up toward your face, watching you draw closer to falling apart with every passing moment. This was only the beginning, and he still hadn't decided if he was going to give you what you wanted...but the sight of your divine, nearly naked and writhing under his touch with his hat still resting on your head made him just a little weak.

He moved from between your legs before he could get lost in the sight of you and the sweet sounds of your moans, reveling in the agonized whimper that left you as he trailed his mouth back up your stomach.

Across to your ribs, pausing at your breasts to brush his lips and his skilled tongue across your sensitive nipples.

Dragging his tongue up the column of your throat, seizing a fistful of your hair and crushing his lips to yours in a deep, possessive kiss, shoving your hip down onto the mattress to keep you from grinding against him, shifting his hand between your thighs to circle a finger around your tight entrance without pushing in. Your low moans and whines of protest were like music to his ears, your knuckles gone white from the force with which you gripped at the sheets over your head to keep your hands from wandering.

Every slow pass up and down your body brought you closer to the peak of pleasure but never quite there—and brought him closer and closer to caving in and giving it to you. He had to wonder whether you had any idea just how much of a temptation you were to him. It had been years since the pirate lord had allowed any woman to affect him quite as strongly as you had.

How much time had passed couldn't be ascertained for sure when he reached his breaking point—his mouth pressed into the crook of your neck while you moaned and begged desperately in his ear, one of his hands squeezing your breast hard enough to bruise the soft flesh while his other worked his belt buckle open and shoved his pants down his hips in a desperation that rivaled yours.

He shoved your open shirt up your shoulders and arms and flung it away; gripped one of your thighs, pushing your leg up as high as it would go, and the low growl that left his throat as he thrust into you was drowned out by your own cries of abandon. Your hips arched up from the bed to meet his, one of your arms flinging around his neck and your hooking beneath his arm to grip hard at his shoulder.

"I don't recall giving you permission to move," he breathed into your neck. He gritted his teeth as he pushed his hips forward hard, shoving yours back down into the bed as you cried out again, your slick walls tightening around his cock.

"I—I'm sorry, I can't—I can't—please—" You gasped, your head falling back as he moved in you in deep, hard thrusts, your fingernails dragging down his back. "Oh God, please—"

He lifted a hand to grasp at your hair as he crushed his lips to yours, delving his tongue into your mouth and drawing in a deep breath as you moaned desperately into the fierce kiss. The prospect of punishing you, of what the hell he had even been punishing you for was forgotten in this rush of unquenchable lust and desire, of pure carnal need for your body.

He normally hated losing control, but this was on another level entirely. There was no room to hate this, no room for anything but pure pleasure, for getting lost inside you as your walls tightened around his cock, as every muscle in his groin tensed and tightened in anticipation of impending release—

Your lips breaking away from his, your cry of abandon as your climax swept over you pulled him right over the edge with you. He pulled your hip up from the bed to slam into you as he came, gritting his teeth against a low groan, the rhythmic contractions of your tight channel milking him dry. His hips jerked toward yours with each intense wave of pleasure, fingers tangling in your hair as he pressed his lips to your neck, the two of you shuddering and tangled together over the bedsheets.

Mihawk heaved a shuddering sigh into the crook of your neck, his fingers tangled in your hair as he brushed his thumb across your temple. Maybe it was the lingering euphoria, but he didn't even think about the next words that left his mouth before he heard them himself.

"God dammit, (Y/N), I love you."

But it was impossible to deny any longer. You really were everything he had never realized he craved. No, it wasn't just the euphoria in the moment—it was that brief flash of fear earlier at the thought of you being hurt, at the thought of losing you. The utter fury at the morons who had briefly held you captive. How perfectly you balanced and complemented his desires.

He felt as much as heard you draw in a small gasp beneath him. "Y—you—wh—?"

"You heard me," Mihawk interrupted your quiet, almost cautious stammering, murmuring against your neck. He brushed his lips against one of the small, round bruises he had left on the soft skin, and said it again, quietly, "I love you."

You were quiet for a long moment, but he wasn't concerned, still trailing kisses up the side of your neck. He had seen it in your eyes before now, heard it in the softness of your voice when you lay against him, your fingers in his hair and your lips brushing his.

Several seconds passed, before you turned your head slowly and pressed your lips to his, tentatively at first, and then deepening the slow kiss with a soft sigh. He shifted onto his side, tugging you to him by your hip. Your forehead came to rest against his as your lips drifted apart, still barely a breath away, your eyes closed, your voice a quiet whisper.

"I...love you."

(Ch. 2)

#opla #one piece fanfiction #dracule mihawk #fanfic #mihawk one piece #mihawk opla #fluff #mihawk x reader #smut

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Hi! I was just reading through all your HCs (love them all btw) and just read the bachelorettes react to your kids being turned into pigeons. I'm so curious to hear how you think the bachelors would react. Have a great weekend!

Oh, that headcanon again... 🥲 (Yay, pain and suffering!). Thanks so much for the question, dear anon, hope you enjoy some angst 💕 Have a great weekend too!

_________________________________________

SDV bachelors react to Farmer who turned their children into pigeons:

⚠️ Warning: angst, mention of blood, mention of violence, loss of children.

Sam:

Whether or not to count it as a blessing, Sam's mind just didn't accept the Farmer's words when he first heard the news from them. Like, total denial. Hey honey, is that some kind of new slang? Hehehe, he seems to be a little behind the trends since he spent so much time taking care of their cute kids! But that's okay, because when they all go to visit his parents together, Farmer will explain the meaning of the slang to them, right?

"....Babe, what do you mean 'we won't waste any more time on children? W- where are the little ones...?"

Alex:

Alex had always thought he saw the personification of evil in the eyes of his alcoholic father, who had made his and his mother's life nightmarish and miserable. But after being struck by the words Farmer said and looking at their emotionless face, he realises that he has only now seen true evil. It would take inhuman stamina for Alex not to run around and smack Farmer in the face.

"Stay away from me, you monster..."

Sebastian:

Sebastian held his obsidian dagger in his trembling hand and pointed it in the direction of the Farmer - the person at whom the point of the dagger was not to be aimed! - lest they should come any nearer to him. He could understand everything. Fuck, he could even somehow understand the choice to relinquish parental rights and give them to an orphanage! But to use black magic to get rid of a child who was guilty of nothing more than coming into the world...?

He couldn't protect their baby. And now, how much chance did he have then, even with a dagger?

Elliott:

"You couldn't do that... Tell me... Tell me you didn't do it! That it was just a bad evil joke! TELL ME!"

As Elliott shouted at Farmer, his back touched the nearest wall and he slid down slowly, shocked, unable to stand up any longer. Their child, their precious treasure.... They had waited so long together for a new family member, and now the little one is cursed forever, hovering somewhere in the clouds, betrayed by their own parent. The thought makes the writer want to vomit. And to die.

Harvey:

Harvey's throat felt as if it were clamped with tongs. He could not say a word, could not breathe; it was inconceivable to the doctor's mind that the Farmers had remained so calm and serene after literally murdering their children... Why? Why had they done this to innocent children? Why did they do this to him?! Harvey's instincts screamed at him to run, but instead he fainted, seeing only darkness before him.

Harvey doesn't want to fight them. He'll let them finish him off too, because he can't live with that thought.....

Shane:

Farmer had expected Shane's reaction to be bad, but even they didn't know he would literally go wild. Although, why should they be surprised? Shane had finally acquired happiness, a spouse and a family he'd never even dared to dream of. He was happy, and he was doing everything he could to make Farmer and their children happy. His whole world had been shattered. And now Shane, furious and grief-stricken, is smashing bottles to use the shards as a weapon against Farmer.

There's gonna be blood on the floor tonight.

#stardew valley #sdv #sdv headcanons #thanks for the ask! #sdv sam #sdv alex #sdv sebastian #sdv harvey #sdv elliott #sdv shane

[yikimiki]

Bbbbbrrrrrr ok how about some toxic relationship headcanons (mayhaps w make up sex?) forr Sukuna, Toji, Geto, Megumi if you accept multiples otherwise I'm be happy w/ whichever you'd rather write for !

Since it’s four characters I’ll write one big headcanon for each ♥️

⚠️ warnings: toxic/abusive relationships, smut, dark content, gaslighting, mentions of violence (not directed at reader), fem!reader, crying, make-up sex, possessive/jealous behavior

💕 toji: the absent gaps of your relationship makes you more anxious than you’d care to admit. Toji is there one day, showering you with love, with the most amazing sex, and then he’s gone for the next couple of months like you were nothing but a good time. You only know he’s alive when he shows up again at your door, dirty and needy, and takes your body like it’s his second nature — he always takes and takes, but never gives. He uses your house, eats your food, shatters your heart and leaves without an explanation. Toji fucks you deep, possessively, with the tone of a man who is used to violence, and you can do nothing but allow him to take it. “You’re all mine, pretty girl,” he mumbles one night, and you’re not sure you believe it. You ask him to stay, like you always do, but he ignores it — like he always does. “If I ever see you with someone else… fuck, I’ll kill him on the spot. You’re all fucking mine.”

💕sukuna: like the certainty that the sun will rise again tomorrow, he’s sure that you’re going to be his forever — so for you to dare (try) to break up with him… well, that just goes against everything he has planned. All the years by your side gone, crumbling to dust, because you think you know better than he does. Sukuna makes sure you’re going to remember this, that you’re not going to try anything funny again because: “You’re fucking mine forever, you understand? You’re the air that I fucking breathe,” He says, groaning as you clamp around him, tears staining your eyelashes. You’re broken down underneath him, whining and apologizing, but he doesn’t care. You have to learn. “Don’t you ever leave me again, baby, because I’m not letting you get away. Ever.”

💕getou: there’s a bloody, metallic taste on your mouth as he kisses you when he gets home, and you never ask why. You know Getou gets into fights sometimes, and he tells you they’re all because of you. He tells you that he hates the guys at your work, hates that you talk to other men — because he’s everything you’ll ever need — and hates that you flirt (yes, flirt) with them. Like they’d ever have a chance with you. Getou always says that you’re too slutty, even if you cover up, even if you promise you won’t talk to anyone else. Then he says you’re just pretty and stupid, that you don’t know what you do to people. “But I’ll protect you forever, princess,” he says, and you know from the blood on his face that he’s serious about it. “Just never forget who you belong to.”

💕 megumi: he’s quiet and direct with you, and that is a double-edged blade when it comes to Megumi. Sometimes, it’s good to know what he’s thinking, no secrets between you two, but then you step out of line and Megumi makes sure that you remember his words forever. “You know you’re going to be alone without me, right? No one is going to deal with your whiny, dramatic behavior like I do.” He speaks calmly like the wind, but it hurts, it hurts so bad that you cry and ask him to leave you alone. You don’t even know what you did wrong, but he doesn’t care to answer. “Quit it. I’m just being honest, not my fault you’re so annoying. Come here.” And you do. You always fall into his arms, into his bed, because it’s the only place of comfort that he allows you to have.

#jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu megumi #Megumi #Toji #getou #sukuna #sukuna smut #Megumi x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen #Toji smut #getou smut #angst #jjk angst #x reader #x you

[pastel-omegas-blog]

All He's~

⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️WARNING!!! THIS BOOK WILL CONTAIN MATURE THEMES AND VIOLENCE PLEASE LEAVE IF IT WILL MAKE YOU UNCOMFORTABLE. I DO NOT NEED THIS BOOK TO BE REPORTED . YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.( Mentions of suicide,bullying, blood/torture ⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️( This book is going to have more matured themes  compared to my others, from smut scenes to non-con, lactation, drugging, hypnosis, abuse of power and over obsessiveness. 

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Pretty silver light coming from the full moon spilled in through the open windows illuminating the room.

 " W..wait! W..we can't-  Ah~ "  the smaller man arched his back as another wanton moan escaped his plump glossy soft red lips.

His hoarse voice echoing through out the room as his pleas for the other  man to listen fell on deaf ears.

Small s/c hands tried gripping at  the silk bedsheets for dear life in their pinned state, but the hand keeping them down refused to release the tight grip he had on them, making a whine leave the smaller man's lips as the throw his head back into the fluffy pillows. his body trying to process the onslaught of pleasure it was been put through.

The fingers thrusting upwards past his silck dripping entrance into his gummy tight walls picked up their pace. The soft sound of skin hitting skin with the wet sticky sound of silck gushing out drew a weak mewl from the h/c omega on the bed.

The s/c man wasn't meant to be feeling this way.

He wasn't meant to be craving the other so much.

He should be mad at him- No!

He was supposed to be mad at him!!

Even though he couldn't find the courage to be angry as he was supposed too, he shouldn't at least be upset. After the news that had been announced earlier in the ball and the humiliation he had faced in front of the jeering crowd, he was meant to be hiding away from the other, he was supposed to kick him out of his life!

Yet here he was being played like an instrument under his fingers.

The sweet scent of silck dripping out of the smaller male's tight hole floated into the air mixing with the thick scent of honey and peaches and the phermones coming off the other man creating a sickly sweet addictive smell of arousal, lust and heat.

One that neither of the mean present in the room could resist.

The larger man leaned down to his kiss away the tears brimming at the corner of his love's pretty jewel e/c eyes, getting lost in their beauty for a moment ( admiring the pleading and submissive emotions swirling behind them, so glad that they were no longer filled with the burning hatred and look of betrayal from earlier. ) before he caught himself.

He trailed more kisses down to the man's rosy red cheeks, pecking  the tip of his nose softly , lowering his lips down to press a sloppy kiss to the s/c man slightly kiss swollen lips.

Both men moaned as the larger man shoved his tongue deeper inside the smaller man's mouth, a sweet taste flooding both their taste buds as their tongues tangled in a futile fight for dominance ( though the both of them already knew who had won from the start )

The kiss went on for almost a minute, the s/c man struggling to separate for air, but the sharp thrust of the other's finger's and the small glare the other gave him made him stay still.

As white started to cloud his vision and the h/c man thought he was going to pass out was when the other pulled away.

Both men took deep ragged  breaths as air filled their lungs, the string of saliva joining them together snapping as they both ( well the other, the s/c man had lost his composure the moment the other man had trapped him in this room and had caged him in a corner,  whispering sweet nothings into his ears while stripping his clothes off ) regained their senses.

The larger man continued from where he stopped, placing a small peck at the corner of his lover's lips as he continued to trail kisses down the smaller man's neck, the feathery light touches of his lips turning into small nips and harsh sucking as he started adding more hickeys to the ones he had left earlier, stopping for a second to admire the way they had started to change colour.

The fairly new ones  being a nice soft rosy pink, some a dark red, while others were a pretty purple colour. Such pretty shades of colour on an even prettier s/c canvas.

And he was the painter who created such magnificent colours.  Leaving his mark on every inch of skin he could get his hungry mouth on.

Lowering his head once more he moved his gaze to the man's scent glad, the pretty sight of teeth marks and the dark purple colour brought a smirk to his own slightly swollen peach lips.

Out of all the marks he had created this one would always be his favorite.

Bringing out his tongue he proceeded to lick the bruised area, moaning softly at the familiar sweetness flooding his taste buds, the whines and whimpers coming from the smaller male at the action sent a jolt of pleasure straight to his slightly weeping cock. The pretty pink head starting to turn red as he fought to restrain himself. He needed to be patient for a bit more.

After sucking harshly, biting and nipping at the h/c omega's scent glands the larger man stopped the abuse of the man's sensitive spot, raising his head up se he could clearly see the new marks he had left behind on his pretty little canvas, a fox like grin spreading on his lips as his eyes lit up with pride and satisfaction. 

He wasn't going to mark him.

Not yet at least, but this was good enough for now.

Another string of pathetic pleas coming from the smaller man was what snapped the other out of his thoughts, his eyes tearing themselves away from his bruised scent glad to stare into his lover's tear filled e/c jewel hues.

Like before his pleas fell on deaf ears as the other simply gave him a teasing smile as he picked up the pace. They both knew that if the h/c man really wanted him to stop he would have used his safe word.

Not like that was going to stop him this time.

Slipping in the fourth finger into the omega's tight heat he rammed them straight into the small bundle of nerves that made him see stars, the larger male enjoying how the s/c man's eyes rolled upwards as he lolled out his tongue, his breathing getting more erratic as his chest quickly rose and fell, the pretty head of his cock weeping out precum as his gummy tight walls started to clench around the other's fingers desperately.

He was so close.

The other chuckled at the dazed look in his partner's e/c hues.

 He preferred this to the heartbroken one he had created earlier

The omega already looked fucked out when they had barely even started. ' He really has no idea what he's in for those he ' the other thought to himself, amused at the different expressions of pleasure showing on his lover's face.

The larger man continued his ministrations, not once stopping for the smaller man to catch his breath, his lips going lower and lower as he left kisses on the smaller man's hot skin, stopping when he reached his chest to stare at the omega's cute inverted nipples, the flesh around it swollen a little bit, hawk like eyes taking in the creamy white liquid that had started to dribble out and roll down the smaller man's chest to his stomach.

 Yet the shy little things where still hidden.

How cute~

Bringing his mouth closer to the soft n/c buds he puffed his slightly cheeks blowing a small gust of breeze at the sensitive bundle as an attempt to harden them so they could fully show themselves, yet only a bit of the head peaked out, so the other took it upon himself to ' help ' them out a bit.

Opening his mouth he completely took in the bud closest to his lips, sucking softly as his tongue prodded the nipple trying to wriggle it out of hiding while taking mouthfuls of the creamy liquid that now seemed to pour into his waiting mouth causing him to moan around the hyper sensitive flesh, ignoring the strangled moan that left his partner's mouth at his actions.

The larger man only pulled away when the bud finally popped out of hiding ( not before biting the areola and getting a high pitched squeal from the omega in return ) sticking his tongue out to lick away the milk dripping down his chin as he stared down at the mess he created.

A desperate, pleading and submissive mess.

But it wasn't enough.

No. He needed his mind to be broken in too, before he would be satisfied.

And with how the smaller man looked like he would be pushed over the edge any moment from now he could tell he was going to get his way soon.

The s/c man could feel his stomach tying itself into agonizing knots as his climax started building up.

The hot white tight feeling would soon snap and he would finally be granted release.

The feeling of the other's fingers picking up pace caused a choked moan escaped his lips as his mouth fell open, but no sound came out. For a brief moment the h/c man swore he saw stars.

Here it came-

Already sensing the smaller man was about to finish the other pulled out his fingers before he could release, causing a shocked gasp to  leave the man's lips as the high that had been building up for so long started to die down into nothingness.

The whiney mewl leaving the other man's form brought a pleased smile to the larger man's lips.

" Oh ~ what wrong my little lamb ? I thought you wanted me to stop ? You were begging me to do so earlier so I gave you exactly what you wanted. Aren't you satisfied ? " Another whine was what he got in response and it made his smile grow wider.

The larger male brought his silck coated fingers up to his lips, admiring how the natural lube had coated his whole hand and was dripping down his arm, before bringing one  finger to his lips, he opened his waiting mouth and  slide the digit inside, moaning loudly at the sweet taste, never once breaking eye contact with the man underneath him as he did so.

" You taste absolutely wonderful as always love... " The man complimented when he pulled out his finger, his tongue darting out to lick away the residue that had dripped down his chin. " ... Now why don't you be a good boy and have a taste yourself ? "

He noticed the slight hesitance in the smaller man's eyes and it caused a small frown to form on his own lips.

This wasn't what he wanted. He didn't need his little pet to start disobeying him when they had already gotten this far.

" ... Come on now love .. " the man called out again as he brought his knee forward to slowly rub against the smaller man's still weeping cock, the action giving the omega pleasure making small moans and mewls leave his lips, but not nearly enough to make him find his release. And the way the larger man's hand tightened his grip around his wrist made it nearly impossible for him to move and grind back.

The rational part of the s/c man's thoughts was quickly fading into non-existence as lust started to take over.

"... Won't you be a good boy and have a taste ? If you do a good job I might fuck that tight hole afterwards as a reward "  The larger man said again and this time the s/c man opened his mouth without any resistance and stuck out his waiting tongue. This caused the other to give him a gentle smile as he lowered his silck coated hand to the other's mouth, watching him intently as the smaller man tried his best to clean up the mess in his lust driven state, his own silck starting to smear on his cheeks.

Yes.

This was exactly what he wanted. His lover only had one thought in his mind and that was getting his hole stuffed by him.

Good.

It meant he would listen to his every word without thinking anything through and agree to anything he said.

Satisfied when majority of the silck coating his fingers was gone, the larger man pulled his hand away from the s/c man's face, and stopped rubbing his knee against his throbbing dick, making a weak whimper leave the smaller man's lips as the little friction that he had desperately been clinging to to give him some release disappeared.

The h/c man laid there weak to the bone on the soft silk bedsheets, his wrist starting to hurt from how tight the grip around them was and his throat was starting to feel sore, yet his body was still hot and twitching softly waiting for any form of pleasure the other would bestow upon him , silck still dripping out of his ass and soaking the sheets, his buds were still leaking and the creamy liquid rolling down his chest and dripping down to the silk sheets adding to the mess.

He paid little attention to the weight of the other shifting around the bed, only fully registering what was going on when the tight grip are his wrist suddenly vanished, but the growl that followed after told him to stay put and he did just that, his body was to tired to move anyways and his head was still to fuzzy to think straight, his ears picking up the sound of footsteps fading away

He stayed there on the bed for the gods knew how long, lost in his own thoughts and trying desperately not to touch himself as the heat in his body started because unbearable. He wanted to just touch himself and chase the high he kept getting denied of, but he wouldn't be a good boy if he did that.

He would be a bad one.

And bad boys got punished.

He didn't want to get punished.

But the longer he stayed unattended the more he wanted to act out and find his own pleasure.

A desperate mewl left the omega's lips as he called out for the other and he finally received a chuckle from the man, his voice drawing nearer as he dragged something towards the bed.

" My what an impatient little thing, don't worry I'm coming darling " as soon as the words left his mouth, the s/c man felt arms gently hold his shoulder and pull him upwards from his sprawled out state on the bed , forcing him into a sitting position.

His body was to weak to support itself so the man's form instantly slumped into the larger man's body as he buried his face in his chest and wrapped his arms around his neck, whimpering softly into his ears, pumping out his pheromones as a last ditch effort to get the man to just dick him already.

A deep purr rumbled in the other's chest as the other pumped out more of his own pheromones in response sending a shiver of delight down the h/c man's spine as he let out desperate mewls in return.

" You want me to fill up so bad huh ? Pump all my seed into you until your properly stuffed and expecting. Want to become round and full with my pups huh ? " The larger male whispered in huskily into his lover's ear as he trailed a hand over his body , chuckling softly at the barely audible gurgles that left his partner's lips in response to his words.

His fingers lightly tracing over the curves of his body causing goosebumps to appear on the s/c man's skin before he stopped at the smaller man's plump soft ass, grabbing a fistful of his ass cheek and spreading it apart, causing a wet squelching noise to spread while drawing a sharp squeak from the h/c omega.

" Well then... "

A shocked gasp left the h/c omegas lips as he was suddenly lifted out of the bed, his world becoming disoriented for a few seconds as his lust filled mind tried to think and grasp what was going on.

A large red blush spread to his face as he finally understood the new situation he had been put it, from feeling the other's hard throbbing cock rubbing between his ass the head threatening to slip into his moist entrance if he moved around recklessly to staring at his reflection in the full body mirror that had suddenly appeared at the corner of the bed.

He tried to turn his head to look away, not wanting to stare at himself as he instinctively closed his legs to hide himself, but the other's hand grabbed his chin and forced him to look back into the mirror.

Having no choice but to stare at his reflection e/c eyes locked in with devious amethyst purple orbs.

The man's shoulder length sky blue hair was sticking to his face and neck because of the sweat dripping down his lean body, giving his pale porcelain skin an ethereal and angelic glow. The total opposite of the cruel smirk that rested on his kiss swollen glistening peach lips.

" Aw come on, you can't be shy now my love. Not after begging me to stuff your ass full. Your gonna watch me do it. In fact you have no choice, because if you so much as look away from this mirror or even close your eyes I'm not letting you cum at all for the night "

Despite the carefree tone he used to say those words and the way he pumped out more of his scent of vanilla and strawberries, they both knew he meant every single thing he said.

The pretty man couldn't stop his smirk from getting more sinister as he felt the smaller omega's  form go rigid on his laps, seeing the fear and excitement swimming inside the h/c hues he had fallen in love with caused his dick to twitch, the action making the two omegas moan out softly at the small friction.

The blue haired male tore his gaze away from the other's eyes as he stared at his body through the reflection. And he he couldn't help but marvel at the beautiful sight.

Hickeys littered on every bit of skin from his neck down to his collar bone. The  dark purplish colour on his scent glands and the bite marks he had left behind, his eyes dragged lower taking in the sight of the h/c omega's puffy s/c nipples a bright red bite mark around one and he watched contently as beads of white continued to spill down his chest. The took in the sight of his wide hips and his eyes continued to dance over his curves, taking in all the s/c man's flaws and imperfections. Everything he fell in love with.

Using his hands he used raised up the smaller man's legs and spread them open, showing his still weeping cock and silck dripping entrance laughing as the h/c man started to squirm around in his grasp,yet he never looked away from the mirror .

How obedient

Such a beautiful, caring and precious omega.

His body ready to birth such precious pups. Having all the characteristics everyone was looking for in an omegan mate. Full of curves in all the right places and blessed with a loving and obedient nature.

That stupid alpha didn't know what he was blessed with.

But he did and he didn't think twice before snatching the smaller man for himself.

 The larger omega even noticed his own cock throbbing and twitching uncontrollably, the normally pretty pink head an angry red as it wanted nothing more than to bury itself in the velvety cushioned walls of the other omega.

And he was going to take his price soon enough. But firstly...

" Who owns you M/N ? " The pretty man's voice asked as he brought his gaze back to stare at the h/c man's eyes.

" Y...you do..... " The petite man quickly replied, but his answer made the blue haired male frown.

" Come on M/N you know what I want to hear. Now who owns you ? " The blue haired man asked again, his voice dropping as he shot a glare at the smaller male making him flinch slightly.

" Y..you d.. do S.. Sirius " the h/c man replied and the blue haired man gave him a gentle smile.

" That's my good boy " 

And with those words he quickly positioned himself in the omega's entrance and shoved himself in, not waiting for the other to adjust before he started thrusting his hips forward.

He didn't stop when the other gripped at his arms harshly, his nails digging into the soft skin of his arms leaving small scratches behind. He didn't stopped when the other began to babble out utter nonsense as his mind began to go blank (  though he found it cute that even though he was losing his sense of reasoning the his lover still desperately tried his best not to look away from the mirror )

He didn't stop when the other clenched tightly around him, instead he used his arms to lift the smaller up and down to meet his own thrusts.

He didn't stop when the man came, thin long white cum shooting out of his pretty cock and staining the mirror, instead he pounded into him even harder as his own end near, driving the smaller man into over stimulation as he chased his own high.

The blue haired man's hips sputtered slightly as he came, but he didn't stop pounding into his lover, his cock ramming into the bundle of nerves as the head relentlessly bullied the mouth of the smaller omega's womb, slipping past as he buried himself deep into the other's warmth as he came, the force making the h/c man come for the second time.

The two stated idle for a moment as they tried to catch their breaths, both off them still staring at their reflections.

M/N felt his eyes start to become heavier as the drowsiness began to set in and the smaller male wanted nothing more than to make a makeshift nest and cuddle up with his lover, but the sharp thrust to his sensitive hole told him that wouldn't be happening soon, yet that didn't stop him from try to babble out pleas that he needed to rest to the other. His words only made the blue haired man giggle softly as his thrusts began to pick up speed, tearing out moans from the s/c man's hoarse throat as he started pounding into him with an even harsher pace than the first time.

Holding his lover's chin so he could continue to stare at himself through the mirror been used the larger omega whispered in his ear.

" I told you love~ were going all night. Until I'm sure I've put a pup in you~ " he said as he watched the h/c man go through his third climax.

He couldn't mark him for now.

But he sure as hell was going to pup him.

​​​​Hi everyone. New book thanks to LunarWolf  and  愛 I've decided to write another version of Dearly Detested. An su where Mc doesn't go through the most hear wrenching trauma and Leon wants him all to himself. So here.

Enjoy the first chapter

#mc #dearly detested #omegaverse #leon #omega male reader #x omega male reader #x male reader #male reader #bottom male reader #smut #omega x omega #au

[rosazoldyckk]

-Yandere! Illumi X Kidnapped! Reader-

⚠️warning⚠️ mentions of physical violence and abuse, un-consented NSFW moments (ONLY KISSING but still worth the tw) and needles.

Fandom: Hunter X Hunter. Character(s): Illumi Zoldyck, butler(s) (not specific)

A/N: I’m sorry if this is absolutely crap. I’ve got a lot of drafts about yandere Illumi, Chrollo and Hisoka so I didn’t really proof read this one😅 hope you enjoy my writing anyways❤️

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"You know how I feel about repeating myself Y/N." Illumi muttured, harshly sticking his needle into your already needle-covered head. His heartbeat increasing as your pained screams filled the room.

"I told you not to engage with them, didn't I?" He questioned, shoving another needle into your skull. You nod weakly, shivering at the cold chains while the burning sensation drew tears to your eyes.

Them, the them he's speaking of were simply butlers, which over time you considered friends after all the things they did to ensure your safety, that's all! Though he is probably no more. Your "lover" hated when you talked to anyone else, whether it was his butlers or even his own family, Illumi hated when you talked to anyone but him. That was the only thing that scared him, that was something he wouldn't allow happen. As long as he's alive he won't allow anyone to taint you, to see things in a different view than him.

It's unacceptable.

"Answer me."

The usual coldness of his voice had a tint of anger in it, which almost scared you, how could doing something so simple manage to make him this angry? "Y..es"

The dark-haired man smiled, a sick one at that. Moving closer, giving a thankfully soft tug on your blood-covered hair, pulling you into his arms. His hands being a bit closer to your back than you'd like. You simply attempted to ignore the sharp pain from the impact, thinking that it couldn’t get any worse than this.

As much as you tried to ignore the pain, it was enough for you to loose strength in resisting when Illumi fully closed the gap, placing his lips against yours experimentally. They were so oddly warm compared to the rest of him, molding to yours with ease as he moved against you. All you could sense was him. The dangerous may strong scent of pine with metallic undertones nearly becoming overpowering and almost intoxicating has he continued to kiss you breathless. It was almost enough to forget the pain shooting throughout your body.

Almost.

You attempted to protest with whatever strength you had left in your body but Illumi continued to cling onto you; the whine you let out muffled from his mouth over yours.

When he finally let you go, he left you breathless - chest heaving while you stared at him once more with eyes as wide as plates.

Illumi rubbed his thumb over your soft lips. Using his other one you run over your bruised back, snickering at your small flinches.

"Why must you disobey me like this Y/N? Why can't you make my job easier?" He whispers against your skin, talking more to himself than anything else.

"I love you so much," He sighed, kissing away from the salty tears streaming down your face. Being hardly able to contain himself in your disheveled state. "I'm only doing this because I love you, because others can and will seek to hurt you. You know I can't have that, don't you?"

You didn't have anything to say, there was nothing you really could say. You were confused beyond comprehension. How could he possibly hold you in his arms, look at you with such loving eyes after doing such unspeakable things to you? He doesn't want them to 'hurt you' but hasn't he hurt you more than they ever could? What could you possibly do now? Were you even in a position to go against his command?

You hiss at the sudden pain from the numerous questions racing through your head. Alerting the assassin much to your distress. The assassin could read you like an open book, studying you and your reactions longer than you can remember. As if knowing exactly what was going through your mind he scoffed, switching from his much nicer expression.

"And what could you possibly be thinking about?" Illumi asked, tapping on your cheek. "Ah, don't tell me it's those fools from earlier. It must be."

You let out a shaky sigh at his challenging tone. He knew he was right and so did you; that look you gave him only confirmed his suspicions. But the little bit of hope in your heart for them to be kept alive regardless of their so called ‘betrayal’, for them to continue helping you get back home. It would be your fault for their deaths after all.

Illumi gathered his needles from your head and freed you from the chains, catching you in his arms as you collapsed onto the floor. He let you go, still staring down at you as he licked your blood off the needles.

Crouching back down to you, he holds your face in one hand. "You'll stay here until you are properly disciplined, I have things to do." Though not realizing what they were you knew they were nothing but good. Pressing one last kiss to your cheek he leaned forward to whisper in your ear.

"Just remain by my side and behave, and everything will be alright."

#hunter x hunter x reader #hxh x reader #hxh x y/n #hunter x hunter x y/n #yandere #yandere x darling #hunter x hunter #hxh fanfic #tw obsessive behavior #yandere x reader #hxh zoldyck #tw obsession #yandere illumi #illumi x reader #illumi x y/n #illumi x you #illumi zoldyck #yandere hxh #illumi zoldyck x reader #yandere illumi x reader #obsessive love

[vampmorgue]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐚𝐧

𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤!𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 & 𝐉𝐉 𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

📖 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬.

⚠️ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒: 18+, she/her pronouns, pogue! reader, routeledge! reader, jj is readers ex boyfriend, some backstory, some fluff but lots of angst, dark themes, toxic relationship, trauma bond, love bombing, language, dark!rafe and him being toxic, mentions of drug use, addiction, abusive behavior, choking, smoking, weapon: gun use, violence, blood, fighting, and jj being protective of reader.

📑 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 5.1k

🦇 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: if you or someone you know are in a similar situation, please don’t hesitate and ask for help. my dm’s are open if anyone needs to talk. ♡︎

©𝐕𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃: 𝐃𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞, 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐲, 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐩/𝐰𝐞𝐛𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞.

You definitely had a type. JJ was your ex-boyfriend, and he was impulsive and would get into trouble but stayed caring, protective, and loving at the end of the day. He made you the happiest when he could. You two dated for a year after knowing each other for years growing up but broke it off due to the right person, wrong timing type of thing. You wanted JJ to focus on himself as he was losing himself for a while, and you were growing distant from each other but remained friends.

As your older brother, John B. got more involved with Sarah Cameron and brought her into the group, you soon heard about her older brother, Rafe, and the stories about him, and trouble always seemed to attract you.

From the day you saw Rafe Cameron, you were intrigued by his presence, but not as much as he was with yours.

You were a Pogue, something Rafe hated, but whenever Sarah brought you over, he didn't mind it as much, almost like it never mattered in the first place. You would notice the way Rafe would be eyeing you up and down, but not notice that he would be finding excuses to talk to Sarah just to see you in the same room, and then later at night, his mind would be going crazy over you.

When you first revealed your interest in Rafe to Kie, she scolded you like you had done something bad and told Sarah; Sarah didn’t mind it but did warn you that her older brother was not the best guy to be going after. When JJ found out about it, he was shocked and unhappy that you found interest in a Kook and was more unhappy you chose Rafe Cameron out of all people. JJ made it clear to you that he moved on from the break up to not come across as jealous or anything else and said you could do better than Rafe Cameron, along with everyone else agreeing.

"Look, I just think you should keep your options open, that's all." JJ comments, hoping your brother could at least convince you as well.

With your dad being gone, John B had stepped in to protect you as your older brother, and he hated the idea of you liking Rafe.

“Don’t you dare go to that Kook party where he is!” John B chases you out the front porch as you giggle, “Sarah! Back me up on this!”

“I’ve tried, John B!” Sarah scared to intervene, "The least we could do is watch over her at the party plus, we can have a little fun?"

"Fine," John B sighs at the idea, running his hands across his face.

You weren’t someone who liked listening to others about what they had to say, especially in your life. So as a result of that, during the party at Tannyhill, after a couple of shots, you went after Rafe, which caught him by surprise, but he liked it anyway.

“Y'know, I had my eye on you for a while,” Rafe smirks, drinking from his solo cup.

John B. saw the whole thing, which angered him, but at that point gave up. “I feel like I’m raising a rebellious teenager,"

“I think you’d be considered one as well, from the things you get involved in.” Sarah jokes.

From that day forward, Rafe had you wrapped around his finger. The more you started getting involved with him, the more your friends weren't liking it and made it known.

“Oh, god, you want to be like your brother and date a Kook now?” Pope asks, with JJ and Kie waiting for your response. "I mean, seriously, what is it with you Routledges' and Kooks these days.”

“You guys like Sarah now,” you mention, “so maybe you’ll like Rafe too.”

“Ha!” JJ scoffs, shaking his head.

“I doubt that Y/N but you do you.” Kie shrugs.

“Yeah, I will,

And you kept your word, but little did they know, Rafe had also persuaded you so you could be together.

"Listen, you and I were meant to cross paths," Rafe tells you in an optimistic tone, "so let them talk,"

Three months into your relationship with Rafe, he was the sweetest boyfriend, at first. From the dates to spoiling you, him making you feel like his whole world, and making it clear to everyone that you were his. The Pogues accepted your happiness but didn’t accept Rafe; they couldn't do it when they saw how he would treat other people. He was the complete opposite of his sister, Sarah.

Now six months into the relationship, you were aware of his addiction and had mentioned your concern about it to him before, but you didn’t want to be that kind of controlling girlfriend or anything. You also didn’t want to let your friends and brother know about it because you knew they would try to get you out of the relationship with him but you didn’t want that because you cared about Rafe. You let Rafe live his life and for a while, he got better after realizing how much he was scaring you, and the sight of coke making you uncomfortable. He would smoke weed instead, which you were completely fine with since you did the same.

But then Rafe would relapse as coke was more of his thing.

Your boyfriend soon revealed another side of himself on nights when you were with him, a darkening aura surrounding him as his eyes grew more hostile. You knew he was high by the size of his pupils, and how he was getting stressed out about the things going on in his life, especially with the pressure his father was putting on him. There would be times when he took out his anger on you by shouting at you or just snapping out of nowhere by throwing things around or punching walls. Every second of those bad nights was like torture so being with him started to drain you physically and mentally as time went on, you were now in his control of what you could wear, say, or do in front of him. Every morning, you’d wake up to an anxious feeling in your stomach because of Rafe, which could’ve been your sign to leave him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do so. It was moments like this, that made you rethink your life decisions if you had never broken up with JJ, would you be in this position? Were you longing for JJ or the right treatment that you weren't getting from Rafe? Unfortunately, you grew too attached to Rafe just like he was to you. You felt dependent on him, and you grew a fear of not being able to do anything without him or his approval but maybe one day the bond would break, right?

Every time you and Rafe argued, no one was around because Rafe wanted your relationship to look perfect to others, though it was the complete opposite, he always told you to put on a happy face.

You barely saw your friends anymore because of him not trusting them but Rafe barely trusted anyone, especially Pogues.

The Pogues were missing your company, so whenever your brother mentioned them coming over, you’d ask him if he could drive you over to Rafe’s or you would text Rafe to come get you because that’s how much afraid you were of your boyfriend; you were scared of him finding out somehow that you were in the presence of your ex JJ, though you weren’t doing anything wrong or planned on it. Whenever they’d ask about you, John B’s answer was always "Rafe", so they stopped asking but JJ thought that it was weird how the only time you were home was when everyone, except your brother, was gone, and if they slept over then you’d spend the night with Rafe— which he never said no to.

Even though your friends didn’t know the full story yet, they knew something was wrong when you were Rafe’s date to midsummers— you were the youngest in the group, so they all felt protective towards you, especially JJ. Though you looked beautiful, you didn’t look happy to be there, especially next to Rafe. They had tried to talk to you, but Rafe had his arm wrapped around your waist the whole night basically and kept giving death glares to your Pogue friends. When you made eye contact with JJ, he could tell in your eyes you had this sense of hope; he didn't know what it was but he tried to approach you because he knew in his gut something wasn’t right and said if Rafe started something then he'd finish it, but Kie convinced him to not cause a scene, and JJ was mad at John B for not looking out enough for you, his little sister.

“JJ! I’m not gonna go to fucking jail if something happened because if I did, then who's going to be looking after her, huh?!” John B argues.

“I would!” JJ responds.

“Man, why’d you guys even break up in the first place?!” your brother emphasizes, “I preferred her with you! Shit, I wouldn’t even have to be in this position!”

JJ stayed silent wondering the same thing as he hated remembering the fact that he lost you. As much as JJ didn't want to admit to himself, he still had feelings for you, and seeing you with Rafe was only making it worse.

John B just didn’t want trouble, especially at a Kooks' party knowing their power but he also didn't want you to be mad at him or give the silent treatment if a fight broke out; he also didn't want to risk losing you completely away from home more than you already were. Sarah tried to see if something was up, and you were always reassuring her that everything was fine, but it was all a lie, “See, Sarah, she’s fine.” Rafe would go on to say but that was before he took you into a room just to yell at you for causing attention like it was your fault, though it wasn't.

The day after midsummers, John B had finally confronted you about being so distant ever since you got with Rafe.

"You just don't hang out with us anymore or never make the time for it!" your brother emphasizes.

"I'm sorry! I just..." you hesitate, "really love him and love being around him. He makes me happy...ever since Dad's been gone-"

"Don't you dare bring Dad into this!" John B. hollers.

"Well, who else is going to love me now?!" you cry out, storming out of the house to see Rafe.

John B's eyes filled with loss as he was watching you slowly lose yourself.

Now tonight, Rafe had called you sounding like he wasn't in a good mood, he wanted to take you out after yelling at you the day before, so you accepted it, hoping he was changing for the better. He told you he needed to make a quick stop on the way, and that stop was to meet with Barry. You were annoyed with him and felt betrayed in a way when he fully knew you never wanted to be around his drug deals let alone being around Barry since he made you uncomfortable. Rafe didn’t listen and expected you to brush it off, but you didn’t.

“Rafe, you know I’m not comfortable with you being fucking coked out around me, or you buying from Barry in front of me," you tell him.

“Can you stop fucking nagging for once?” Rafe sighs, driving away from Barry’s.

“You know what? Just me drop off here,” you point to the side of the road, “I’m growing so tired of you.”

“Oh, you’re growing tired of me?” he scoffs, slamming hard on the breaks, “How do you think I feel with you haunting my every move?!”

“Me? You’re fucking unbelievable! You’re the one who controls every fucking thing I do! I barely see my friends because of you!” you snap, getting out of the car but Rafe quickly comes out to your side and forcefully puts his hand around your throat.

“That’s the last time you’ll ever raise your voice at me again.” he sternly states, “Now get in the fucking car.”

Rafe lets go as you gasp for air and start coughing. You get in the car knowing you couldn’t be walking alone in the dark not even knowing your way around, especially around Barry’s area. You were frozen and silent almost the entire car ride, trying to process what happened. You thought maybe if you jumped out of the car, you could run away and scream, you needed to get away, so you took your chances.

“No!” Rafe grabs your wrist while nearly swerving into an oncoming car, “Are you fucking insane?!”

He puts on the child lock before driving back to Tannyhill as if nothing happened. You felt helpless as you slowly walked behind him with his tall figure that now seemed like a monster in front of you as he led the way to his room.

“Y/N…you know that I love you, right?" Rafe asks calmly, closing the door but you stay silent.

“Come on, baby,” he says, pulling you into a hug, “I’m just trying to protect you.”

“Protect me? … Protect me from what?!” you spat, pushing him off of you, “You’re not doing that, all you’re doing is hurting me!”

“After everything I’ve done and given you so you wouldn’t live that Pogue lifestyle anymore, you dare to act like this? Tsk, tsk.” he shakes his head as it gets silent again.

“You really wanna know why I don’t let you see your Pogue friends?” Rafe chuckles in an unsettling tone, breaking the silence, “Because I know you used to date that blond Pogue…so how can I trust you around him, hm?”

You don’t say anything, instead, you stare down at the floor not wanting to look him in the eyes.

“That’s what I thought,” he nods seeming proud.

“It’s not something new,” you look up at him, “You fully knew that before you and I even got together, and you’re acting like I’m not a Pogue myself…but if you ever lay on hand on me again–”

Rafe gets in your face, “Or what?”

You push him out of your way to the bathroom. You’re on the verge of tears when you look in the mirror and see the bruises on your neck, he caused from choking you. You didn’t know what to do, whether to scream your lungs out due to your frustration or see if Sarah was home but you didn’t want to cause a scene; fear is what you felt.

Now you were at your breaking point and needed to leave, needed to leave him. You saw Rafe doing lines and he looks up at you, “If you don’t wanna see this then go hang out with Sarah or something, I don’t fucking know.”

“You’re right, I don’t wanna see this or you, I’m done.” you reply, leaving his room, “I’m done with you.”

“The fuck is what supposed to mean?” Rafe follows you downstairs.

“It means this fucking relationship is over, we’re over!” you shout in frustration.

As you made it outside, you heard Rafe scream and break something that he threw. At this point, you didn’t care you were walking outside alone, you knew your way around from Rafe’s home, and you just needed to get home away from him, hoping he wouldn’t follow.

You were glad to make it home and see the sight of your brother and Sarah asleep in the living room with a movie playing on the TV. You made your way to your room and cried yourself to sleep.

It was like a parallel between you and Sarah. You were a Pogue dating a Kook and Sarah was a Kook dating a Pogue, except now she was a Pogue. One relationship was toxic and the other healthy. Sarah is happier with John B than she was with Topper just like you were happier with JJ than you were with Rafe. 

How could Rafe do that to you? Especially to someone he said he always loved but that wasn’t love. You knew that you had no love for him left in you, instead, it was hate.

꥟

The next day, you woke up to your neck feeling sore and you remembered why as you felt sick to your stomach.

Now how were you going to hide the bruises? Makeup could help but not in the hot weather. You decided to take a shower and think in there.

A hoodie. Yes, it was hot out, but you weren’t about to throw on a turtleneck so you thought pairing the hoodie with some shorts would make it look less odd, and it would be cooler by the time the sun sets. You had to tighten the strings of the hood so it would cover your neck better, and that was the best you could do.

“What time did you get home?” John B asks, making you jump, “I didn’t hear you come in.”

You shrug, “Not too late, you were asleep when I came back.”

“I see…” he replies, “Listen, I’m sorry about last night–”

you interrupt him, “No, I’m sorry, I should’ve never stormed off like that or brought up Dad that way.”

“No, it’s okay,” he shakes his head, “I know you miss him too but we’ll be okay just like we always have.”

Some time passed, the sun was setting, and you saw Sarah out on the front porch.

“Hey, are you okay? I heard you and Rafe broke up,” Sarah asks with concern in her voice.

“Oh, you did?” John B joins in, “Finally!”

Sarah glares at him, telepathically telling him to shut up.

“Yeah, we did…” you confirm, “How’d you find that out that?”

“Well, I came home last night and saw a shattered flower vase on the floor and a hole in the wall, so I was like, what made Rafe mad this time?” she slightly chuckles.

“I guess he didn’t take it well, huh?” you assume with a small laugh.

“As far as I could tell," Sarah sighs, "I wouldn’t recommend going anywhere he might be.”

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Miss. I’m too good for you Pogues.” Pope appears.

“You know that’s not true, Pope.” you chuckle.

“I know, I’m just teasing,” he replies.

“Y/N!" Kie comes running to you, “Where have you been, you bitch!”

“Well, damn, it’s nice to see you too.” you joke as she squeezes you in her arms.

“I’m never letting you date another Kook again.” she declares and you agree to it.

You feel overwhelmed with emotions with all that’s going on, but it feels good to see everyone and then remember one was missing.

“Hey, where’s JJ?” you ask everyone.

John B points over to the water where you see JJ sitting by smoking a joint, so you decide to go talk to him.

“Hey, Jay,”

“Oh, hey,” he looks up at you and smiles, “you want a hit of this?

“Sure,” you reply, taking the joint.

“So,” JJ begins, “How come you were barely around?”

“If I’m being honest…” you hesitate, “Rafe is a…control freak in the worst way possible.”

JJ chuckles, “He looks like it,”

“I know, I should’ve noticed earlier.” you mention, "I'm sorry though, I never meant to hurt you and everyone else."

“No, you’re all good, you made it out though.” he gives you a comforting smile.

“Yeah, I’m glad that nightmare is over.” you sigh in relief.

“Why are you wearing a hoodie?” he asks out of curiosity, “I’m only asking because that’s rare for you on a day like this.”

“Why are you?” you ask back, pointing out the one he’s wearing.

He laughs, “Alright, you got me there.”

“It’s a nice hoodie though.” you compliment him, hoping he'd let you borrow it one day and he would.

“Thanks, you should wear it sometime.” he teases, “Too soon?

“You’re funny, JJ...but I wouldn't be opposed to it." you turn the other way, hiding the redness on your face.

"I'll keep that in mind then," JJ smirks, taking another hit of his joint.

You and JJ just always had that spark that would always come back, and you both loved that.

JJ knits his eyebrows, “What’s that on your neck?”

Your heart drops to your stomach when you remember. He saw the bruises since you turned your head, and you didn’t want to lie and say it was hickeys but you also knew you couldn’t use the good old burned yourself with a curling iron excuse.

“Oh,” you nervously laugh, “that’s from wrestling with my brother the other day.”

“Really?” he doesn’t buy it, “John B barely even hugs you.”

He must’ve paid good attention or had a good memory of your life because he was right.

“Damn, you didn’t have to call me out like that,” you respond, joking since it’s a way of coping.

“Well, I’m just saying and I don’t think he would hurt you like that.” he adds, “C’mon you can tell me.”

“Rafe…”

“What do you mean?”

“…we were arguing, and he didn’t like that I raised my voice at him but I was only defending myself until I couldn’t,” you answer.

JJ felt his blood pressure rise so high, but he stayed calm to comfort you as he pulled you into his arms and tossed the joint away. You remembered the times he held you in his arms when you were sad about something so that’s exactly what he was doing.

"Does John B know?' he asks.

"No,"

“Listen, it’s not your fault, none of it is.” he reassures, “Rafe has his issues to work with but that doesn’t mean he had the right to treat you like that. You don’t deserve that; you deserve way better than that and more.”

“Thank you, JJ,” you say, still in his arms. “I appreciate that, I needed it.”

“Of course,” he affirms, “I’m also sorry. I wish I tried harder to get you out of that, I knew something was up— we all did but everyone was just stuck on what to do without any proof, you know?”

“No, I don’t want you or anyone else blaming yourself.” you reassure, “I still have you all at the end of the day, and that’s the most important to me.”

“Yeah, me too.” he mentions, "We're going to have to tell your brother as well."

"Hm, I don't like the sound of that." you say, "But I know I have to."

"I know," JJ adds, "but I'll be by your side if that makes you more comfortable?"

"I'd like that!" you exclaim, and he smiles.

You two hear the sounds of a dirt bike.

“Did one of them take your bike out for a joyride or something?” you joke.

“I didn’t bring it today…Kie drove Pope and I out here.” JJ says with a confused expression.

Your heart drops once again, remembering who else you knew who owned a dirt bike.

“Fuck, this cannot be happening,” you mutter to yourself as you both got up.

“It’s okay, just stay behind me,” JJ tells you.

You both watch Rafe make his way to your brother and the others.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Sarah calls out to him.

“Taking back what’s mine,” Rafe responds before looking around, “tell me where she is, and nothing happens.”

“Dude, get the fuck out of here.” John B warns him as he gets closer, “I don’t need any more of your bullshit right now.”

“Seriously, you’re crazy,” Sarah tells Rafe, “Just go back home.”

“Or what?” Rafe lets out a small laugh.

You were holding onto JJ’s arm, and you could tell JJ was getting angry just by Rafe's presence but unluckily, Rafe spotted you and JJ.

“Well, would you look at that!” Rafe calls out, “You see, Y/N? I knew you’d go back to that Pogue! You’re just a fucking slut!”

“Alright, fuck it,” JJ pulls out his gun from the pocket of his hoodie and points it at Rafe.

“JJ!” everyone but Rafe shouts.

Rafe had pulled his gun out as well and John B yelled at you to get down, so you did.

“You really wanna do this, man?” Rafe questions JJ.

JJ shrugs, “If it keeps you dead then yeah.”

“Not unless you’re the dead one first,” Rafe states, slowly moving his finger to the trigger.

You began shaking while John B motioned for you and JJ to stay quiet as he slowly made his way to Rafe and pushed him down to the ground. Shots were fired at the sky before Sarah grabbed Rafe’s gun and threw it into the water.

JJ made sure you weren’t shot or anything before he went to help your brother as Rafe was strangling him, and JJ pulled Rafe off of John B and took matters into his own hands. JJ threw punches at Rafe, but he fought back then JJ pressed his fingers into Rafe's eyes before he started to punch him again to the point of blood running down Rafe's face then JJ began strangling him back to feel what you felt the night he choked you.

John B and Pope pulled JJ off of Rafe this time while Sarah and Kie told you to go hide inside the house.

Your brother told JJ to take you somewhere far from there while they would handle Rafe, and JJ didn't hesitate and kicked Rafe in the stomach before doing so. Kie would’ve let him take the car, but it was her dad’s truck, and she wasn’t going to risk getting in trouble so he thought of taking Rafe’s bike as it added a little more taste of revenge.

After a couple of minutes, the commotion started calming down. You hated every second of it, you hated people yelling at each other, and you hated any type of fighting. You were feeling numb, all of it was happening too fast.

JJ came in, "We gotta go right now."

“Run!" you heard Kie shout as you both saw Rafe making his way towards you and JJ, who quickly grabbed your hand as you both ran towards the dirt bike.

You don't remember the last time you rode with JJ but this time, the wind hitting your face felt so freeing. An aura of colors felt like they were going inside your body as JJ sped up to where he was taking you. You took notice of the state his knuckles were in, all bloody. 

Within fifteen minutes, you both arrived near a small hidden shed near the woods. It intimated you to go in the woods with how dark it was, but JJ reassured you it was fine.

“How’d you find this place?” you ask him.

“Well,” he begins, “when I wanted to get away from my dad, I would hide here if I had nowhere else to go."

You nodded at his response, not knowing what to say as if you two didn’t go through chaos moments ago.

“This is also where John B and I first smoked weed together.” JJ laughs at the memory.

"I'm assuming this is where he would sneak off to then," you mention.

"For sure," JJ replies.

"I'm honestly worried right now for my brother and the others," you admit, "anything could have happened over there."

"The worst that could've happened is someone getting shot, but they got rid of it."

"That someone could've been you!" you cry out, "Rafe was pointing it at you."

JJ looks away for a second, rethinking the whole occurrence. 

"I was just trying to protect you..." he responds, "I couldn't risk losing you again if he had taken you or not,"

From that moment, you realized that the right one was always JJ. You both just needed the time to figure out the things in yourselves and what your heart truly desired and JJ had already done that; his heart desired you.

"And you did it, Jay," you reassure, feeling like your heart was screaming at you to spill out your true feelings, "just like you always have, it's you who I can always count on, and you've proven that."

JJ stares into your eyes, "What are you trying to say?"

"It's you who makes me feel safe and cared about, no matter what situation we're both in, you don't give up, and you're always there...it's you who I want."

JJ grabs your face, kissing you like he had been waiting to do that. You both missed this. His affection towards you always made you feel special, and you're the only person he's still ever wanted.

He pulls away, "You didn't have to tell me twice...I've missed you."

"I've missed you too," you smile, holding his hands that were still grabbing your face.

"So!" John B calls out with Sarah next to him who gives you a teasing smile, startling you, "It's a good thing I checked here first and yes, everything's taken care of."

"That's great man," JJ comments, acting like John B didn't catch you two in the middle of something.

John B pulls you into a hug when he sees your bruises and apologizes for what you went through. "From now on, promise me I'll be one of your first options to come if there's trouble."

"I promise,"

"I also just wanted to let you know, don't worry about him," Sarah refers to Rafe, "I got it taken care of and he's got other things to worry about so you're going to be okay."

Sarah had taken advantage of being her father's favorite so she just called him and took her side when she told him about Rafe's actions.

"Thank you, Sarah." you smile.

"So, you guys want to get out of here and do some illegal shit or?" John B asks, lightening the mood, "Pope and Kie are waiting in the Twinkie."

"Let's go!" JJ exclaims, "Lead the way, John B."

While everyone else gets in the Twinkie, you and JJ still go on the dirt bike with him now being the proud owner of two dirt bikes.

"Hey, listen," JJ looks back at you, "I know you just went through a lot, so I just wanted to let you know that there's no rush in anything between us, I'll always be by your side every step of the way and I'll be here when you're ready."

You smile and kiss him on the cheek, "Thank you, JJ, I'm glad to have you in my life."

JJ smiles and speeds off as you're hugging his waist, holding on tight but JJ was loving every second of it, happy to have you back in his life as well.

#Spotify #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe x you #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x reader #dark!rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron x reader #toxic!rafe #toxic!rafexreader #obx x reader #outer banks #jj mayback x reader #jj x reader #jj mayback imagine #jj maybank #jj maybank angst #rafe cameron angst #john booker routledge #jj maybank x routledge!reader #rafe cameron x pogue!reader #rafecameronxroutledge!reader #sarah cameron #kiara carrera #pope heyward #jj maybank x pogue!reader #pogues x reader #outer banks pogues #obx kooks #obx jj maybank

[writemywaytoyourheart]

Bedeviled | FINAL- Chapter 15a: alea iacta est

Pairing: demon!jungkook x female reader

Genre: romance, drama, angst, horror

WC for PART 1: 13.6k

This is a two part chapter guys, dont miss 15b, it will be linked at the end of this chapter.

Warnings for this part: ⚠️this chapter contains intense, heavy & possibly triggering material, pls read at your own discretion⚠️ strong language, blood, torture, grief, mentions of death, brief mention of past murder, strong religious themes throughout, mentions of witchcraft, implied human sacrifice, summoning of and dealing with demons, ANGST, physical violence, guilt, heavy heavy stuff u guys b careful, if there's anything I missed pls kindly let me know.

ML Previous

“Guardian angel…what’s happened?”

The look in her eyes was gentle even though the worry was clear. 

“I will tell you soon, I promise. Trust in me that now is not the time.”

A slender hand gestured towards the giant golden gates, a reminder of what was to come. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat, an understanding and comfort sweeping through you that the time would arrive to know everything. You looked up at the shining entrance and noticed beautiful gems lining the golden bars in every color imaginable. 

It was stunning. 

Your angel reached out a hand and ever so gently touched the sleek bars; sending a shudder through the entirety of the gate that simultaneously went through you, deep into your bones. 

You didn’t notice you were holding your breath until the gate opened and there was a soft yet steady hand on your shoulder.

Taking a tentative step forward, you gulped as the cloud beneath you kept you from plummeting through it.

A few more steps and you were almost inside. 

Closing your eyes, you took in a deep breath that filled your lungs. As it blew out slowly, you could feel any and every worry leaving with it as the sound of a celestial choir arose and an overwhelming feeling of love consumed you.

Then you stepped through the gates. 

-

The grip on your upper arms is harsh as you’re dragged carelessly down the last few steps. The sound of tortured screams echo around you, bouncing off the walls and shaking you to the core. 

Then the smell hits you.

A smell so vile you would never be able to put it into words if someone asked. It turns your stomach to rot within seconds, but it’s too late to hold your breath now. 

I’m okay. 

You shake uncontrollably as the demons proceed to half carry you down a long hall, the sound of their footsteps drowned out by the screams of the sinners whose fate you are soon about to share in. 

At least it isn’t him.

You gulp and close your eyes despite it already being pitch black; the action only a desperate attempt to conjure some form of comfort. 

You flinch when the loud clank of metal reaches your ears. 

It sounds like someone is unlocking a very large padlock. 

Then an ear piercing squeak follows when what you can only assume is a cell door is opened.

You’re brought into the cell and immediately thrown to the ground harshly, a pained gasp knocked out of you when you hit the stone floor. 

There’s a puddle of something wet and warm under your hands and the stench of urine instantly fills your nostrils. You don’t even have a moment to register the disgust before you’re being grabbed roughly again and yanked to the middle of the room. 

The unmistakable sound of jangling chains fills your ears and you bite your bottom lip. Your eyes slowly begin to adjust to the darkness due to the sliver of blood red light seeping in through a crack near the upper right corner behind you. 

You can just barely make out what is probably Sav in front of you, but more of that comes from the energy you feel and less the sight of him. 

A deep chuckle sounding directly ahead confirms it as your arms are yanked up so violently that you inadvertently cry out. The demons only continue to laugh as one on each side of you shackles your wrists to the rusted cuffs hanging from the ceiling. 

You realize with horror only seconds before it happens that the chains are a certain height, designed like everything else here; to wring the most torture they can out of you. 

A broken scream gets stuck in your throat when the demons let go of you and your body weight is forced down by gravity, pulling at your shoulders harshly. Only a bit of pressure is taken off by your feet holding you up just enough on tiptoe. You know that eventually your shoulders will not be able to handle it, when you are no longer strong enough to stand. They will inevitably be pulled out of place.

Breathing in and out slowly in shaky gasps, you don’t even try to fight as your ankles are shackled as well, even though you won’t be going anywhere with even just the wrists bound in iron. 

The sound of another set of chains makes you close your eyes. 

Flinching harshly, you bite your lip when you feel your wings squeezed painfully by cold metal restraints of their own.

Fear clenches your heart as you wait with bated breath. 

“Leave us.”

Heavy footfalls go to the cell door, the loud creak sounds, then the footsteps diminish into the torture being dealt elsewhere in the dungeon. 

You say nothing, feeling his stare on you while you keep your eyes closed. 

“I’m going to ask questions and you are going to answer, do you understand?”

He’s met with silence, but chooses to ignore that and begins anyway. 

“Why are you here?” 

When you don’t answer, he steps forward and growls.

“Do you want me to fucking hurt you right now, you little bitch? Answer me.”

You open your eyes and stare at the dark floor, but say nothing. 

“Answer me or when the time comes I’ll hurt him more than I need to.”

A beat of silence passes.

“I came to get something,” you grit out, tears stinging your eyes.

Sav chuckles in disbelief. 

“How strange you are, little puppet. You say nothing when your own precious body is on the line, but when it comes to a random demon you found in Hell, you will give it all up.”

You sigh shakily, knowing that he can do whatever he wants to you and still get you to talk when he threatens to hurt a certain fellow demon of his.

“Oh this is going to be fun.”

His heeled boots clunk against the floor as he begins to pace, smirking at your defeated posture. 

“What did you come to get?”

You gulp, noticing how dry your throat is. 

“Something I’ve waited a long time for.”

“The Flame of Immortality?”

You’re not sure how he found out that little made-up story, but you don’t ask. 

He sighs through his nose in annoyance at your silence. 

“Why should an angel need the Flame? You’re already immortal. Besides, don’t you holy creatures frown at the use of it?”

“I didn’t tell you I needed it,” you whisper. 

“A little birdie told me you did.”

“Maybe you should stop taking information from random little birdies-”

A harsh slap lands across your cheek and you instantly taste blood as your head hangs to the side and you squeeze your eyes shut tightly to try and control the urge to make a sound. 

You don’t want to give him that satisfaction. 

“You’re going to regret not taking my offer to let you speak and delay your punishment.”

He grabs your face, pinching your cheeks tightly and making you look at him. 

Oddly enough, you can see his blue eyes in the dim light, his hair falling into them.

“If pain is what you want, rest assured that is what I will give you.”

You glare back at him in response, earning another slap to your other cheek. 

Sav steps back and observes you. 

“You look a little too confident as an angel at the hands of demons that are only too willing to hurt her.”

You just stare at him, hands chained above your head and shoulders aching terribly. 

“Your smug silence will only cause you more agony.”

He gets no response. 

The demon turns and walks to a corner of the cell, a dark alcove where you can not see what is inside. 

“Fine by me, little angel.”

You expect him to emerge with something, so you’re taken by surprise when he only comes back out, empty handed, to lean against the wall. 

“Undidis.” His voice rings out in the dim light.

Then the iron cell door opens and the large lizard-like demon that grabbed you in the hall stalks in, a grotesque smile spread across his toothy snout.

You don’t have a moment to think before he hits you across the face so hard that your vision spins violently and a headache blossoms. A few of your teeth feel like they were loosened by the impact. You breathe out a pained groan. 

The demon hits you in the stomach, then kicks your right shin harshly out from under you, undoubtedly leaving a mark that will bruise if he didn’t fracture it outright. 

The weight of your beaten body pulls down on your shoulders and you cry out. 

“Alright, that’s enough.”

Undidis steps away and sneers, “Look at her. She’s like a little doll we get to ruin all we want.”

Sav chuckles at his words. 

“And she can stop it any time she would like. Are you ready to stop, angel?”

You gulp, cringing at the metallic taste in your mouth, then you shake your head slowly. 

He scoffs and goes back to the alcove, disappearing into the darkness. 

____. 

Tears form in your eyes at the sound of her voice in your mind. 

Angel…I’m sorry that I didn’t listen to you…I’m sorry I failed.

Sav steps out and you see something long and thin hanging from his hand. 

____, you have not failed. Do not let them make you believe otherwise.

“Still feeling brave?” Sav mocks, running the whip between his fingers repeatedly, his eyes moving over your form hungrily; ready to draw screams from you with each crack of it. 

You are sure you want to do this? Only say the word and it will stop. 

You pull your gaze away from Sav and up to the ceiling of the cell. Up to where you might be able to imagine all of them if you think hard enough. 

The words that leave your mouth are sure to send him into a fit, but it doesn’t stop you from saying them.

“I’m okay, Guardian Angel.”

Sav’s face falls, then it twists in anger as he steps closer to you, “We’ll just see where that bravery gets you.”

You can see the hatred in his eyes before he walks behind you and is out of your line of sight. 

You shut your eyes only moments before the whip makes contact with your back and rips the first scream from your lungs. 

________________________

“Find your own way out of Hell.”

The look of terror and disbelief in your eyes did nothing to stop him from turning; from leaving you alone and never looking back.

-

JK keeps his eyes forward as he stalks across the empty planes between the eighth and ninth circles of Hell, his jaw taut with barely contained rage. 

He has no intention of going back to you, or even turning around to see if perhaps his eyes betrayed him in a moment of insanity. 

Of all the things he theorized about you in his head, you being one of those sorry pawns from His pathetic army was never even close to being one…

When the golden light bouncing off the vibrant green leaves flashes through his brain again, the demon shakes his head and keeps walking. 

You must have poisoned his thoughts in some way- with all your nasty little angel abilities to put images in minds. That must have been part of your plan the entire time: to confuse him, to disorient him enough so that you could do whatever the hell it was you were here to do in the first place. 

The silent anger continues to build inside, leaving no room to wonder or even care about where you might be. 

_________________

The broken scream from the last lash of the whip leaves your throat raw as you gasp in a breath. You had held them in as much as you could, but the pain after the first fifteen lashes was too much. You had no idea how many more he had done since.

Sav runs his fingers down the length of the thin instrument, dragging the blood off of it to drip onto the floor in red splatters. 

“Why him?” He asks lowly, voice deep with impatience. 

Your shaky breaths echo off the stone walls. 

Sav grabs your chin with rough fingers, forcing you to lift your head and look at him, the smirk on his face growing at the way you squeeze your eyes shut with pain, the blood from his fingers smearing onto your skin. 

“Why…” He leans close, his cold breath fanning your wet cheeks, “...him?”

You swallow thickly before whispering, unable to keep the strength in your voice no matter how hard you try, “I only asked him to lead me becau-”

A shaky breath gets caught in your throat and you cough a little. 

“-because he was the first one I ran into.”

The grip on your face tightens for a second before the demon shoves you away and takes a step back to observe his prisoner. 

“Do not make the mistake of feeling secure in telling me the truth. It will not spare you any pain.”

You open your eyes and look at him. 

“I know.”

His jaw clenches, then a smirk slowly spreads on his face again. 

“How unlucky for you that he was merely a pawn in your little game. If there was more to tell on JK, I might have decided to prolong the fun in order to wring more out of you.”

His words neither lessen nor heighten your anxiety. You know he is going to torture you without restraint, you have known since the moment you were grabbed in the tunnel while trying to get away. He does not need any more information from you; that is not why you are in this dungeon under the Chamber of Souls. You are merely here for their twisted sport. 

Finding an angel in the middle of Hell is a prize beyond the count of worth. 

Without turning, Sav drops the whip on the floor and points at the alcove. 

The demon, Undidis, that has been standing silent to the side for the entirety of the whipping instantly walks that way and disappears into the darkness. 

The sound of metal clanging around from where he went reaches your ears, but you do not move your gaze from Sav’s. 

“The monarch butterfly on your arm,” you whisper, voice hoarse, “Why is it colored?”

He snorts, “Why would I feel the need to divulge any information about myself to you? You are already at my feet, you are already mine to break.”

“Do you not know?”

His gaze hardens as he stares at you with a raw hatred after seeing the unwavering look in your gaze. 

The look in his own eyes confirms what you already know: that he will not give you a moment of relief once he begins.

There is no reason for either of them to hold back. 

You take a steadying breath and close your eyes slowly.

-

Stepping through the gates, your eyes landed immediately on your aunt. 

Yoongi’s mother, who died many years ago. 

Her skin seemed to radiate a very subtle glow as she smiled at you warmly. There were no wings on her back and she was clothed in a soft white tunic that fell to her ankles. She looked young and healthy, her eyes resembling Yoongi’s almost exactly. 

You smiled back, then your gaze shifted to see the man stepping out from behind her who wasn’t an angel either.

It was your father. 

You had never met him, but there was something inside of you that just knew. For some odd reason you also knew what had happened to him, why he left one day before you were even born and never came back. 

You thought maybe he had been sick like you or just abandoned you and mother. It never occurred to you that he was killed on the road and never found. Your heart hurt terribly at this revelation.

His lips…they looked like yours. Your hair color was the same too. He also looked somewhat like Yoongi’s mother, the shared genes were clear. 

You briefly remembered the days leading up to your death, when you hallucinated a man in the corner of the shack, staring at you. You had thought it was your father, but it wasn’t, he didn’t look like this man. This man’s eyes were kind, his touch comforting as he gave you a quick hug and whispered how happy he was to finally meet you. 

You hugged him back tightly, a breath stuck in your throat, your mind still in a state of disbelief. 

He pulled away then and stepped back, no longer obscuring your view of the beings behind him.

Many many people and angels, some laughing and talking, others smiling and waving at you excitedly. 

You didn’t recognize any of them, but they seemed to know you. 

They seemed to have known you for a long time. 

Realization hit you then, that every single person and angel there, had been waiting for you. 

The air itself was alive with relief and genuine unconditional love. 

These souls that you did not know, were overjoyed at your arrival. 

They were proud of you. 

Tears filled your eyes, only a few escaping and falling down your cheeks. 

Then you saw her. 

The little angel with yellow wings, that had taken your hand and led you to the clouds after you passed. 

She was standing in front of another angel that looked no older than fourteen. The young teen had long red hair and wings the color of soil. A bright smile graced her pink lips.

The small yellow angel that you had not recognized when first waking in that shack, had tears in her eyes as she looked at you. Those bunny teeth appeared when she smiled even while the tears fell down her supple cheeks.

“The little ones that pass in the womb become angels.”

She looked just like him.

“Aera?”

The name fell from your lips in a breathless whisper. 

Not another moment passed before you were kneeling and the child was running into your open arms, soon engulfed in your embrace. 

Her tiny arms wrapped around you and she held on tightly. 

You couldn’t help the tears that wracked your body as you kept her close, finally feeling that warmth you always dreamt of. 

“I love you,” you whispered the words you always wanted to say between sobs, “I love you so much, I missed you so much.”

Her hug only tightened and she whispered back with that tiny soft voice you could only ever imagine in those long long months, “I missed you too, mommy. I love you.”

You continued to cry on her small shoulder until your tears were utterly spent and you could finally breathe in fully without breaking into another round of weeping. 

Only then did you open your eyes and see someone behind her; your gaze traveling from their sandaled feet, up their long beige tunic, and into gentle brown eyes flecked with gold.

Only then did you first look upon the face of the one you never knew you had missed.

-

Your whole body is quivering uncontrollably, blood drips down your arms and legs, and your shoulders only continue to weaken as the strain on them increases with each new torment they bring upon you. 

“Not the face.”

Sav’s deep voice breaks through the fog of pain clouding your mind. 

Undidis grunts in annoyance but steps back anyway, the bloody knife gripped in his scaly fist tightly as he resists the urge to mutilate the only part of you that has been left more or less unscathed. 

You can faintly hear both of them laughing as they walk around you, behaving like two humans that have stumbled across a most intriguing statue in the museum. 

No words pass your lips, only the labored breathing that occasionally becomes so quiet that if they didn’t know any better they’d have thought you suffocated from the lack of oxygen getting to your lungs. 

“Such a precious little face, angel. I can’t bring myself to cut it up just yet,” Sav muses with mock pity. 

At your lack of response, you get a kick to the same right shin Undidis had struck earlier. 

All you give for that is a weak moan. 

Sav steps towards you and leans down, his voice becoming soft, “This is only the beginning. You can change your fate, all you have to do is one simple thing.”

The fog in your brain covers most of your thoughts in an attempt to pretend like you are anywhere but here. 

Slowly, you shake your head.

“Do nothing and we get to play with you for the rest of eternity. Who needs Him anyway? If you give in to us, the pain He has let be inflicted upon you will lessen.”

Your eyes flutter open at his words and you lift your head only enough to look him in the eye. 

“And when my memories are no longer my own,” you mumble quietly, “When I can no longer understand why it hurts…what will happen to me then?”

Sav straightens up, his mouth twisting in rage. 

“Will I become like you?” You whisper hoarsely, never looking away from him. 

A harsh slap from the back of his hand causes your head to jerk to the side and blood to spray from your mouth and onto the floor, to continue to stain the ancient stone with the life of its current victim.

“You dare to look down on me while I stand above you?” He seethes, “You refuse to acknowledge who is in control?”

“You are not in control.” Is all you say, eyes lifting to the ceiling briefly. 

“Is that so?”

A choked gasp gets stuck in your throat when you feel jagged metal sink deep into your abdomen. 

Sav pulls the knife back out and lifts it into your view as you gulp and try to control the shivering from sheer pain alone.

Your blood drips down the length of the crooked blade, only inches from your face.

“I think we’ve just run out of time for you. That little face of yours has only begun to anger me.” 

Your gaze drifts from the crimson knife and over to his dark blue eyes. 

“Your story saddens me, Sav. But it is not you I grieve for.”

There’s a flash of fear deep in his gaze, but it’s quickly clouded once more with hatred. 

“You may know things I do not, angel, but I can assure you of this,” he looms over you, only too ready to ruin you beyond recognition, “If you do not deny Him, if you do not lower yourself more than you already are and bow to me; I will rid you of any physical indication of your title. I will tear you limb from limb and you will feel every single second of it.”

A smile spreads on your cracked lips, bright red blood oozing from your mouth. 

“Lower yourself to me.” Despite his words, his voice shakes slightly.

The grin on your face does not fade, even as Undidis emerges from the shadows with the next instrument of torture that will leave you in agony beyond comprehension. 

You keep your eyes locked on Sav. 

“No.”

____________________________________

“Look, Savanis!”

The twenty-year old boy looked up from where he was digging and reached a hand to wipe the sweat from his brow. He pushed the dirty blonde hair out of his suntanned face so he could see the little girl a few feet to his left. 

“What is it, Marjorie?”

The child frowned at his tone, but quickly brushed it off and pointed at the little flower only inches from her where a beautiful orange and black butterfly sat. 

“Isn’t it pretty?” She whispered, leaning in. Long blonde locks fell over her tiny shoulders, the curled ends brushing against the dirt, “I think it’s the most beautiful I have ever seen.”

Savanis rolled his eyes and turned back to the digging that was taking longer than he liked. It wasn’t supposed to be one of the jobs that consumed his entire day. And for this he would only get enough for half a loaf of bread at the market. 

The shovel struck the hot dirt viciously, tearing into it and wrenching it from the earth.

-

“Savi.”

He rolled his eyes at the hundredth interruption that evening alone. 

“What?”

“I’m hungry.”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” He raised his voice, slamming down the small piece of wood he had been carving mindlessly, the sound echoing off the wooden walls of their tiny home. 

Tears welled up in the six year old’s big bluebell eyes and he sighed sharply. 

“It isn’t my fault the king treats us like scum, Marjorie! What would you have me do? Beg at his feet to let us feast with the royal court? Don’t be so naive. If you’re so hungry then go out and find a way to get us food. Just because mother and father died and left you to burden me doesn’t mean you can’t make yourself useful for once.”

With that, he stood and grabbed the crookedly carved wood, then stormed out of the house, leaving his little sister to self-soothe in her torn blanket, holding her worn out doll friend close to her chest. 

-

It wasn’t even a month’s passing since that night that Savanis stumbled upon the old witch that lived in the woods, the one he had only previously heard tales of. 

She was odd enough to deserve the rumors said about her, but she by no means looked to him like she could actually cast magic spells and curse those that betrayed her. 

Despite all that, she made decent company when he was out and about in the woods for whatever work he was doing. 

The witch spoke of her many encounters with spirits; the good and the evil. 

Savanis found himself increasingly drawn to the dark ones she told him of. They seemed more likely to obtain what they desired and he didn’t shy away from the means in which they helped this particular old hag acquire hers. 

He began to actively look for work that focused solely on his going into the woods. Those stories began to seem more and more real, and certainly the ways in which the witch lived her life seemed a lot more enjoyable than where he was stuck. 

Savanis was determined to change the course of his future, to live his life how he wanted, not to have anyone relying so heavily on him for mere survival. 

The time he spent in those woods grew longer and not for the work he was doing halfheartedly by then. For what he was doing, he might never need to work again. 

The old witch taught him spells, ways that he could get what he wanted without working all day for it. Ways to read into others’ futures so that they might pay him in exchange for that delicate knowledge. Perhaps, he thought, he could embellish a little here and there as the witch suggested, and so he did. She was right that people would pay more the more you’re willing to divulge, even if only some of it was true. 

-

Marjorie would wait for her brother each night, worrying herself sick while lying in her blankets on the floor of their one room cabin. She would force her little eyes to stay open until she saw him coming into the door quietly and setting his things underneath the floorboards where he thought she couldn’t get them. Then the child would finally be able to sleep. 

His items never interested her. One time she was curious and looked in the hiding spot, but only found feathers and vials of strange liquid that smelled funny. When she saw the small blade covered in something red, she hurriedly put the floorboard back over it and never again peeked.

Most of her days were spent outside in her garden. 

It wasn’t much of a real garden, but she had lovingly replanted flowers and other strange plants she did not know the name of that she found in the forest. 

The bees, dragonflies, and butterflies would swarm her little collection of sweet-smelling flowers, which was one of the reasons she loved it the most. 

Marjorie would sit there for hours, simply watching the butterflies flutter to and fro as she nibbled on her bread. She’d offered them some once but they were not interested, so she kept it for herself. 

Savi didn’t snap at her so much anymore and he started to bring home more food. She didn’t ask him what he was doing all day and he didn’t offer any details. 

-

Savanis wiped the already dirty rag down the length of his smaller hunting knife as the witch, Tanta he knew her as now, continued to stir the pot above the fire. 

When he was finally able to clear most of the crimson smears from the blade, he knelt down and tossed the bloody rag into the fire, his gaze drawn to the strange green hue that illuminated the flames briefly before they faded back to a reddish orange. 

“You remembered,” Tanta seemed pleased as she sprinkled something flaky into the pot. 

He nodded then sat back to watch her work. 

“I’m better than you ever acknowledge.”

“I’m aware.”

“Then why don’t you teach me more? Everything I know is practically useless to me now.”

“I thought all you wanted was a comfortable life,” she mused, not looking in his direction but clearly sporting a knowing grin, “Is that not what I’ve given you? You have food, clothes, and no need for work.”

Savanis sighed loudly, “What good is magic if it doesn’t give you more than the ordinary?”

“What good indeed,” Tanta muttered quietly. 

They sat in silence for a little longer, then he heard her speak again. 

“I have urged you to do things you have not done.”

He frowned, unsure what she meant for a moment, then it hit him. 

“Ah, you mean the rituals?”

“Indeed.”

“So if I worship him more, I’ll be able to do more?”

The only response he got to that was a silent smile. 

“I’m not sure I believe it is the thing,” Savanis continued, “Did you not say I was the one capable of magic because of who I am? Not because of some demon king?”

“On your own, you are no more special than that kid sister of yours.”

He bit his tongue at that, irritated. 

“She couldn’t handle any of it,” he spat bitterly, glaring at the flames that appeared to have turned bluish, “She’s weak and useless.”

“And that may be so,” Tanta let go of the ladle and turned to him, “But if you want to unlock your true potential, you must give all of yourself to his work.”

“And that means worshiping him every day?”

“The more genuine you become with it, the more you will not drag your feet about it.”

Savanis chewed on his bottom lip, contemplating. 

What did he have to lose?

-

Tanta was right. 

The more frequently he did the special rituals to the Leader, as she called him, the more he desired to do them. 

A lot of times he’d have to fight the stupid little voice whispering over his shoulder not to do it, saying that he could stop and it wasn’t too late to change. There were days the voice gave him pause.

Tanta told him never to listen to that voice though, that it was a spirit that claimed to be good but only wished for him to lack in anything he desired. Only wished for him to be a puppet and never live for himself.

So he continued to push it out of his head, and continued to make a point to do worse just out of spite. 

The darkness that took root in him was continuing to grow, and he welcomed it openly. 

Never before this was there much to his bland life. 

-

“You are almost to the highest rank I’ve been told.”

Savanis smirked at the witch that sat on a tree stump in front of him, knitting a dark cloth. It had only been a few months since she first began teaching him and he was already on his way to the top. 

“Envious?” He asked, arms crossed and brow raised in arrogance. 

She simply smiled at the work in her hands, “I have no reason to envy you child, I have been at the top for many years. I would say delighted is a more fit word to use. After all, you are my pupil.”

“And you are his pupil.”

“Precisely.”

“When do I get to do the final ritual?”

“When he decides you are ready.”

“How will I know?”

Her knowing smile returned. 

“You will know.”

-

Marjorie woke up with a start to see her big brother gathering his things. It was still dark, so she didn’t understand where he might be going. She watched silently from her makeshift bed as he put on his dark cloak and left without a sound.

-

Savanis lit the fire and stepped back, then tossed the bundle of herbs into it and watched the flames snap and crackle. 

He had a dream earlier in the night, a sign he took that it was finally time for him to reach his full potential. The man in the dream told him to come to the spot he was in and do the summoning. 

It only took a few moments before the air turned cold and he sensed a presence behind him. He turned and saw a tall handsome man dressed in dark clothes fit for a royal. On his back were large black wings that were at rest. 

He smirked at Savanis, who suddenly had a strange feeling that something might not be right. 

“At last we meet.”

Savanis swallowed, then spoke up, “You are him, then? The Leader.”

“Lucifer.”

“Lucifer,” Savanis tried out the name, a nasty taste following it in his mouth, but it did nothing to deter him. 

“Have you finally come to give your soul to me?” Lucifer asked, eyes locked on the boy in front of him. 

“Have you finally decided I’m worth it?”

A dark chuckle floated from the demon. 

“You have never been worth it, boy. You are as useless to me as the twig you stand on.”

Savanis’ mouth twisted in anger. 

“Then why are you here?”

“You asked me here.”

Savanis scoffed and looked away, feeling utterly humiliated and more than a little angered.

The demon took a step closer, “Do you wish to feel important to me, boy?”

The blonde glared at him, then tilted his chin up, “All I care about is getting what I want.”

“And what is it that you want?”

“I want to be able to do and have whatever I desire without consequences.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

“Then giving your soul to me is the right answer for you.”

“And yet you turned me down!”

Lucifer chuckled, “I said you are worthless. You are no match for the ones that do my bidding. They are far darker than you.”

“What would you have me do?” Savanis’ voice grew in strength. 

He was not afraid of the darkness. 

“If you want to give me your soul and join me, you must prove yourself. You must give me something else first.”

“I will give you anything.”

“A life.”

Savanis frowned, confused, “An animal sacrifice? I’ve already given you plenty-”

“Oh no,” the Devil stepped closer again, “One far more precious. A human’s.”

“Easy enough,” Savanis said without hesitation, the blackness in his heart causing him no inner turmoil at the request, “But who?”

A horrible grin spread on the prince of Hell’s face. 

“Is there no one in your life you wish to be rid of? No one that has tethered you down until you are merely nothing but the tool to their survival?”

Savanis stared at him for a moment. 

That nagging little voice began to beg him to listen, to wait and listen for a moment. Not to make any rash decisions. 

But he pushed it away like he had gotten so good at doing. 

“Yes, there is.”

______________________________________

“You remember her, don’t you?”

Your voice is broken and raw as you utter the words, head hanging while the weight of your body hangs on your shoulders unforgivingly. The feeling of the joints that are bearing all the weight beginning to dislocate makes you grit your teeth. 

Sav stands in front of you, his chest heaving in angry breaths. 

He doesn’t respond, only glares harder at your ruined form covered in crimson. 

You swallow thickly, tasting the metallic blood that coats the inside of your mouth. 

“You remember Marjorie…don’t you?”

Sav grabs your face harshly, forcing you to look at him. 

“Don’t say that fucking name ever again.”

You stare back evenly as you whisper. 

“Why do you pretend like you don’t remember? Who are you trying to convince: the other demons, or yourself?”

His jaw clenches, rage seeping into him at the fact that you know more than he’s comfortable with, the fact that you can read him like a book. 

An awkward silence stretches on and you can sense that Undidis is just now hearing of this. 

“If you think dropping a name that is in my past will rattle me, you’re wrong,” Sav seethes, fingers pinching your cheeks. 

“It isn’t just in your past though, is it? That is your punishment. It haunts you wherever you go, the pain you caused her now racks your own miserable being, and you will never be free of it-”

“Shut the hell up.”

“She’s up there, you know.”

The dark ocean in his irises seems to darken and get colder as you stoke the burning blue flames. He roughly lets go of your face.

“You will never hurt her again, Sav. She needs never to think of you or what you did. Marjorie sings joyfully with the angels and flies with her most beloved creatures.”

He watches your eyes drift to the dead monarch inked on his bicep. 

Your voice drops to a whisper as he steps back, hands shaking.

“Marjorie told me of the doll you sewed for her when she was three. She told me of the bread you brought home for her. You were always enough for her.”

You see him swallow thickly, but sense only an empty misery and anger there. 

“Even as you sacrificed the life of your only little sister for your selfish desires, she never hated you. She forgave you, Savanis.”

“I said shut up!” He slaps you across the face, snapping your neck to the side violently. Then he grabs your hair and yanks it so that you’re looking at him, his eyes wild with rage, “Your kind has stolen more souls from us than one could count, and yet you have the audacity to mock me while at my mercy? I am not going to stop ruining you, not until you break, and not even then. Beg all you want but I will not stop. Not even when you give in and lower yourself to me!”

“Go ahead!” You scream at the top of your lungs in his face, startling him enough to step back, “No matter how close you think you are to prevailing against His gates, you’ve already lost!!” 

The rage is clear in his eyes as he stares you down. 

Even as Undidis cracks the whip down on your back and you feel it rip deep into your flesh, pouring more blood down your already scarred skin, you do not look away from the demon standing in front of you. 

Despite the difference in your positions, he is the one that looks at you with trepidation swimming in his gaze. 

-

JK walks through the colorless trees of the second ring in the seventh circle, his gaze locked on the ground. The strange images won’t stop, they only ever get worse when he’s looking at anything but the pale dirt beneath him. 

Not once has he glanced at the sinners he passed as he stomped his way back through the circles. 

Not once has he given a second thought to the words being repeated in his head in a loop, the stupid little pathetic human souls begging him for a chance to ruin themselves. 

Not once has he been able to shake the image of you out of his mind. 

The terror in your eyes when he left you is burned into his brain. 

He wouldn’t think anything of it if the image was paired up with satisfaction and a desire to drag more misery out of you just to see you fall further into despair. But it isn’t. It’s accompanied with nothing but confusion and uncertainty.

“I’d rather live together forever. Wouldn’t you?”

The demon flinches at the soft voice that permeates his mind above all the others, a horrid feeling coming over him like when he sees those images he suddenly can’t escape..

“Live forever? Together?”

The sound of a snapping twig makes him lift his head briefly. 

The realization of looking up from the ground hits him too late. 

The sight of pale branches and dead leaves sets it off all over again. 

Shades of gray blur and morph until a horribly bright green replaces them all, the sound of birds twittering fills his ears, and the warmth of sun caresses his freezing skin. 

Laughter surrounds him as he fumbles to a stop in the forest full of so much life and light it’s painful. 

The demon glances around uncertainly before reaching shaky hands up to his ears to cover them, squeezing harshly to drown out the voices that seem so familiar and yet so foreign. 

For a moment, he thinks maybe he’s mistaken and that he was just summoned by a desperate soul seeking solace in the most perfectly horrid place. 

Just as he’s calming himself and taking his hands away from his ears, he stops abruptly after almost running into a large tree. 

He flinches back to avoid colliding into it. 

As the demon backs up slowly, he runs into something else. He turns to see an old swing hanging from one of the branches of the tree; it’s rocking back and forth slightly due to the force of him running into it. 

His hands begin to shake more than they have been since you put those wretched thoughts in his mind. 

JK takes a few unsteady steps backwards, tripping over his own feet to get away from the simple structure that’s causing so many confusing and conflicting feelings to crowd into his mind. 

Just as he’s about to turn and hurry in the opposite direction, there’s a sound cutting through the rustling leaves and singing bluebirds. 

He freezes, his blood curdling at the agonized scream that fills the forest and sucks the air from his lungs.

All at once, the green silky leaves and blue sky are ripped away and he’s back in the seventh circle. 

JK slowly turns to face the direction he came from. 

The direction where he left you to so easily be caught and tortured until you no longer had that little flame of hope he had always hated to see in you despite his desperate attempts to squash it. 

_________________________

You stare at the stone floor under you that’s illuminated with a pale red light creeping in from the crack in the corner of the cell. 

Every few seconds another ruby droplet falls from your skin and lands on the ground.

Your shoulders have long since been pulled out of place. The tops of your feet rest against the cold floor, unable to bear any weight to ease the pain in your shoulders. 

All you can do is continue to count the drips that never fail to fall in the same place, joining the ever growing puddle. 

You know they are going to come back in soon and continue where they left off. 

Please give me strength. 

You blink slowly, almost losing count of the next drop of your blood splashing into the little pool. 

The sound of the cell door flying open makes you flinch a little, but you glance in the direction of it anyway. 

You don’t see Sav or Undidis coming in to finish the job as you expected.

Your breath gets caught in your throat at the sight of JK being brought into the cell, his arms held roughly by two mangled demons that don’t even try to contain the cackles bubbling from their vile throats.  

Terror takes root in your heart when you think he’s been caught and is to be punished in front of you. Only seconds pass before you realize what it is you’re actually seeing. 

It isn’t JK. 

It’s Jungkook. 

You watch in mounting horror as they drag him to the center of the cell. 

As far as you can tell, you are no longer chained there. Instead, you are against the wall and watching as they clamp the chains onto his wrists. 

“Jungkook?” 

The name passes your lips in a breathless whisper, full of horror and confusion. 

None of them act as though they’ve heard you, or have seen you at all for that matter. How could they? You are witnessing a moment that has already come to pass. 

All you can do is stand there and stare. Your legs will not move as you tell them to, it’s like you’re frozen. 

Jungkook’s head hangs low, not looking the demons in the eye as they shriek and hurl vile profanities at him. 

A horrible scream rips itself from your throat when without warning they begin to beat and tear at him viciously. Even as you wail in desperation for them to stop, none of them react to your presence. 

You can’t even cover your eyes to avoid seeing it. 

It feels like it lasts forever until they’re finally stepping away and you can see his beaten and bruised form hanging there numbly, clothes torn and bloody cuts littering his skin. 

There isn’t a single sign of pain on his face, it’s as if he is incapable of feeling. 

The demon with bulging eyes and no nose laughs maniacally and turns to the other wretch in the room, “The fucker isn’t over the death of his little lover yet.”

Your heart rips in two.

The second demon that has mutilated moldy wings that are no more than stubs and half of its smile stitched with thick black thread, scoffs in twisted amusement, “Give him a few days and he won’t even remember her name.”

The two snort loudly to themselves before leaving the room, the cell door slamming shut behind them. 

“Jungkook,” you whimper, still stuck by the wall and at least ten feet from him.

The faraway look in his eyes as he stares at the stone floor makes your heart bleed painfully.

His dirty cheeks covered in blood and grime soon have streaks running down them as silent tears fall. 

He doesn’t move, not even when they eventually come in again and proceed to beat him without restraint. 

The sobs falling from your lips never cease as you can’t tear your eyes away from it. 

The bulging-eyed demon leans down close to where Jungkook’s head dips low, blood dripping from the prisoner’s mouth and nose. 

“What was her name again?” The voice is sneering, mocking. 

You hear his muttered reply even from where you sit by the wall. 

“____.”

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

You don’t know how many times they came back, every visit bringing worse torment than the last. 

Each time, they would ask the same question. 

“What is her name?”

And each time, no matter how weak his voice became, he gave the same reply.

“____.”

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

The mangled demon with stubby wings lashed the whip angrily after Jungkook whispered your name for the hundredth time. 

You couldn’t bear to see the pained grimace on your best friend’s face as the thin leather strap tore into his naked skin, nor could you stand to hear the gut-wrenching cries that came from him when he was all alone in the dark cell for hours; nothing to occupy his mind but the thought of you. 

You’d screamed and pounded on the floor and thrown many fits, but he never saw you. All you could do was sit there and cry with him. 

The worst were the times when you could hear him muttering to himself in the silence, talking and laughing breathlessly about flowers and clouds and boats and sweet honey rice cakes. He would whisper about bird songs and rings and sunlight dancing on fingertips.

The stories he told to the quiet to make sure he wouldn’t ever forget you. 

-

“That’s it,” The bug-eyed demon snarled and turned to his companion to whisper something neither you nor Jungkook could hear. 

Whatever it was, it prompted the other to unchain Jungkook less than gracefully, ignoring his pained cries at the change in position. 

Then they both dragged him carelessly out of the cell. 

The next few moments flashed in front of you; the horrible images showing what it was they were doing. 

You saw Jungkook refuse to steal souls when ordered to, time and time again. You saw them drag him back to the cell and torture him until he couldn’t even scream anymore from losing his voice. 

It continued like that for nearly a hundred years. 

The time passed in a flash for you, but for Jungkook every moment felt like a millennia as they found new ways to wrench sounds of affliction from him each time he refused to do their bidding. 

__________

“We’re breaking him.”

The demon in charge of the prisoners’ under the Chamber of Souls scoffed at the lesser creature in front of him. 

“He doesn’t look broken to me.”

Jungkook kept his gaze on the floor, counting the tiny cracks running along through the ancient stone. 

He didn’t even flinch when a rough hand gripped his chin harshly and pulled to make him look up at them. 

“This girl you are so desperate to remember, tell me, what is her name?”

Jungkook blinked a few times but said nothing, his gaze cloudy and uncertain. 

Dark chuckles echoed around the cell. 

“See? I told you we-”

“Apple…”

Stunned silence fell over the dungeon at the name whispered brokenly, the screams of the other sinners fading into nothingness as the demons stood there and stared at their miserable prize.

“Get me the crank,” the general growled, “You know the one I speak of.”

Scurried footsteps faded into the hall as Jungkook lowered his gaze back to the ground.

------

The breath trickled from Jungkook’s lungs as he hung in the cell, his shoulders bruised from where they dislocated again each time he was brought back and rechained. 

He blinked slowly, watching the blood drip from him and onto the floor with a tiny splatter. 

The cell door creaked loudly but he didn’t move. 

Heavy footsteps echoed around the cell as the newcomer approached. 

Jungkook said nothing as he was unchained and dragged out of the dungeon. 

He said nothing as they brought him to a dark forest where a boy was summoning demons to make a deal with. 

He couldn’t even stand on his own, so he crumpled to the ground when they let him go. 

Jungkook stared at the young teen eagerly bundling the herbs he would soon toss into the fire. 

When asked once more if he would agree to deal with humans, with this boy, he nodded his head slowly in defeat. 

-

As they chained Jungkook back up in his cell, he stared ahead numbly, his body, mind, and will beyond the point of broken. 

The next time the demons came in and tortured him while laughing at his agony, he didn’t hold back the screams that were ripped from him. 

As Jungkook tried desperately to grasp any form of a thought in his mind, the demon general that just dealt out his torment leaned down and looked him in the eye. 

“So you’ve finally agreed to work for him, hm? This will stop then, after you answer one last question.”

Jungkook stared at him blankly, sweat and blood dripping down his face. 

“What is her name?”

The demon watched the broken young man blink a few times then look at him in exhausted confusion before whispering weakly due to the suffering endured. 

“Who?”

__________

As the ice cold cell once again surrounds you, a grief-stricken sob breaks from your lungs and you begin to weep loudly, the sound bouncing off the walls.

The excruciating pain in your body is no longer what hurts the most. Knowing everything that he went through for so long before breaking under the agony, is more painful than any physical torture they can bring upon you. 

You had asked for strength, and in seeing his torment, you got it. 

There was nothing that they could do to break you now, not if it meant you giving in would result in his eternal damnation and suffering. 

Your heart hurts so deeply you’re not sure it will ever be whole again. The only relief would be if it were to stop beating altogether.

- 

As tears of devastation drip down your sore cheeks, there’s suddenly a warmth that envelops you. 

Opening your eyes slowly, you realize you are no longer chained up, but lying on the hard floor of the cell. After a moment of staring at the cell door in confusion, you realize there’s something soft under your head. 

Turning ever so slowly, you blink up at the person sitting on the filthy ground of the dungeon whose lap you’re lying on, the entirety of them emits a warm glow. 

Your eyes are squinted from the harsh light as you back up a little and raise a hand to wipe at the tears on your face. 

When the light fades away, your gaze meets deep brown eyes flecked with gold and full of a love like no other. 

A small gasp escapes you and you instantly back away so you can bow low to the ground, forehead touching the frigid concrete.

A gentle touch on your shoulder encourages you to lift your head again. 

“I-” your voice cracks and you clear your throat before whispering again, eyes full of unshed tears, “I’m dreaming, aren’t I?”

A beautiful smile graces your visitor’s lips as He looks at you tenderly.

“No, child.”

The sound of His deep voice that resonates a soothing regalness fills your ears and the tears instantly creep over the edge and pour down your cheeks. 

You move to bow again, laying your head on the ground at His feet while you weep. 

“Come to me, ____.”

Not wasting a second, you lift your head and shuffle towards Him. There isn’t a single hesitation before you fall into His open arms, letting yourself be cradled closely. 

You bury your nose into the beige tunic He wears, breathing in the smell of wild flowers and crystal rain before another round of sobbing ensues. 

Strong hands caress the top of your head and shoulders. 

“Tell me everything,” He whispers gently, voice full of warmth and comfort. 

Even as you bawl messily, you let everything out. Everything that has happened since you crossed into Hell, every moment of fear for the one you came to save; fear that he would not choose to listen. How he left you alone after you tried to remind him of who he once was. You tell Him of all the horrible things the demons did to you and how wretched it was to see what your best friend had gone through. 

You are never interrupted, fully encouraged to say anything and everything that has weighed you down and how you feel as though all of this has been for nothing. 

When you have finally exhausted yourself and cried until no more tears will come, you feel something else. 

An agony so deep and so visceral that you feel what you have endured up till this pales in comparison. 

You lift your gaze to see tears pouring down His cheeks. 

In your mind you see all of the souls throughout Hell and on Earth that are yet to come to this vile place, the horrid grief that strikes your heart is unbearable.

You see Jungkook being beaten unforgivingly, then you see him prowling the Earth for souls to ruin, to share in his misery. The boy that was once full of so much life and kindness and love was gone, replaced with something so wicked and so full of hate that you barely recognize him. 

As you watch the souls choose to fall across the world, the sound of His ethereal voice breaks through the fog and heartbreak.

“No suffering united with Mine will ever be wasted.”

When your vision clears and you once again see the deep sadness in His eyes, you lurch forward and wrap your arms around Him; if only to try and ease the pain of loss He endures every moment. 

A gentle hand touches your torn wings and a comfort sweeps over you. No words are needed as you feel a new strength surge through you briefly before the exhaustion once again takes hold. 

You breathe shakily as you try to regain yourself, knowing that if you asked, you would be taken from here. But you will not give up.

Nagging little worries are still running through your mind though; What if JK refuses to listen and wants nothing to do with you anymore?

Despite how angry he was when he left you, there was a flicker of hope that remained deep inside, that he would come back. You’re ashamed to admit that now you’re afraid he’ll actually leave you here to rot and continue with his wretched duties.

“Do not be afraid.”

Nodding, you close your eyes and breathe in deeply. 

When you open them again, the room is empty, the sound of you blowing out your breath the only thing you hear. 

Your hands are once again chained above you, pulling your shoulders out of place slowly.

A loud clang rings out as the metal bars of the cell are flung open then the pitter pattering of bare feet is heard, nasty chuckles not far behind.  

Your limited vision is taken from you completely when slimy hands wrap a rough cloth around your eyes. 

Do not be afraid.

____________________________

JK gulps, his dry throat making it hard to swallow. 

He’s standing in the seventh circle and looking down the path he walked to get here; the path that leads back to you. 

The one that deceived him. 

You preached about being honest and yet you lied to him about the reality of who you are. Of what you are. 

Granted, if he knew at the beginning, he wouldn’t have given you so much as a second to talk before unleashing his pent up rage against your kind. 

And yet. 

Something is pulling at him, urging him to go back.

Maybe it’s the curiosity of wanting to know why you came here, why you did what you did.

Or maybe it’s something else. 

“Fuck.”

If he goes back…he will pay for it for the rest of eternity. 

…

JK closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. 

After a few moments, he opens them again and starts walking back down the path. 

_______

When he gets to the barren wasteland and sees the smaller mountain by itself in the middle of it, his stomach turns. 

It might not have been you. 

It could’ve been any sinner at the hands of his fellow demons. He’s heard many sounds of torment in his time. 

But never has one struck him as that one did. 

The demon shakes his head and starts walking again, eyes focused on the lone mountain in the distance. 

You probably won’t even be there, you must have gone to get the Flame yourself and just wanted to scare him off. That has to be it. You wanted him to leave, so that you could continue on your own and not have to live up to your end of the deal. 

The explanation makes perfect sense and he’s almost angry for a minute that he fell for it. But the pit in his stomach leads him to believe otherwise. 

-

As he walks up to the mountain, the snake vines becoming clearer with each step, something else makes him freeze. 

The echo of someone crying; horrible gut-wrenching anguish falling from their lips. 

His jaw clenches at the sound when it becomes obvious who it is.

It makes no sense to him why he’s suddenly filled with an uncontrollable rage at the thought of someone hurting you. 

JK grabs the snake wrapped around the handle of the back door you two went in and tears it off, tossing it to the ground and throwing the door open before stalking down the dark hall. 

He doesn’t stop until he gets to the Chamber of Souls, where he halts briefly when he sees the shattered glass on the floor, a stone lying haphazardly in the midst of it. The darkened souls where the glass used to be continue to float there, undisturbed. 

JK looks around but sees no one. The only other indication that something happened here is the ghostly feeling of past terror still clinging to the air. 

He turns his head and sees the alcove. Without hesitation, the demon walks over to it and yanks it open, proceeding to walk down the stairs and into the thick blackness. 

The high-pitched screams coming from each cell are enough to disorient anyone, but JK continues to walk down the hall, unfazed. 

He only stops when someone going the opposite direction runs into him and stumbles back in surprise. JK raises a brow, having not moved a centimeter at the collision. 

The short beady-eyed demon in front of him- whose name escaped JK for a moment but he quickly remembers it as Ekel- snarls to cover up his startlement, “Aren’t you meant to be getting punished for not meeting the quota?”

“Where is she?”

Ekel cackles, but it’s drowned out by the tortured howls around them. 

“Are you serious? You’re the one that sent her here and now you’re here to rescue her? I wonder what the punishment is for a demon letting an angel go,” he muses in wicked delight at the thought. 

The black-haired demon leans down to get level with him, snatching his wrist so fast Ekel doesn’t have a moment to think and squeezing it until there’s the sound of bones cracking and the miserable twerp is squealing. 

JK drags him closer, not letting up on the grip he has as he whispers in his ear, “I wonder what I’ll do to you when I catch you again with plenty of time on my hands. You do know the ranks here, don’t you?”

He gets no response but silence, so he keeps going. 

“I will wrench every single cry out of you that I can and I will not stop until you are unrecognizable to even yourself. Tell me where she is.”

Ekel gulps, then cries out again when JK pinches his wrist harder, “She’s at the end of the hall! But I- I didn’t do anything to her, it was Sav and Undidis, who don’t do well with their prizes being messed with. Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he spits.

JK narrows his eyes at the lower demon, “Spread this to anyone and I will rip you to shreds. Do you understand?”

Ekel nods, then growls in pain when his wrist is freed. 

Before he can move to get away, JK stops him with a warning grip on the arm, “And if you do happen to blab, be sure to tell Sav that if he ever shows up in front of me, he will wish he never came to exist.”

When he’s released, Ekel doesn’t hesitate to run away down the corridor, getting as far from his superior as he can.

JK straightens and stalks down to the end of the hall. 

To the left, the cell is empty. 

When he turns to the right, it feels like a rock is lodged into his throat at the sight that meets him. 

He brushes a hand over the giant padlock and it clatters to the ground in several pieces, then he pushes the barred door open, the loud squeak echoing off the walls. 

You don’t flinch at the sound. 

As he steps into the cell, the putrid smell of every second of torture dealt throughout time here hits his nose and he grimaces. The metallic scent of blood is thick in the air. 

The closer he gets to your form hanging in the middle of the cell, he realizes that you are not conscious. 

His eyes drag over you slowly, taking in the horror you’ve been put through since he left you. Since he delivered you right into their eager hands.

The simple white dress you wore when first coming here is in shreds; your body is practically naked and covered in deep gashes from all sorts of cruel instruments. There’s a ratty brown piece of cloth tied over your eyes as a makeshift blindfold to keep you from seeing what was coming next, to heighten the sense of pain when your vision was impaired. 

Your wrists are chained above you; keeping you high enough so that your feet touch the floor but are unable to hold any weight, especially since the untold violence wrought on you has left you incapable of doing anything but hanging in defeat as your shoulders are pulled out of place from the pressure. 

The dainty wings on your back that were once white are now covered in bright red blood and torn through in several places. The bottom half of your left wing is missing entirely.

JK reaches a hand out to carefully brush the hair from your dirty face. 

“Apple,” he whispers, unsure what else to call you. 

You don’t respond. 

The demon swallows thickly, then he moves a hand behind your head to untie the blindfold. It falls to the floor and he’s met with the bruises and cuts littered along your cheeks and dark circles coated in flakey blood under your eyes. He puts an arm around your waist, holding you against him, then reaches up to touch the rusted cuffs holding you captive. They turn to dust instantly, the weight of your limp body is immediately supported by his hold as you let out a quiet moan at the pain in your shoulders from changing positions. 

He lowers you to the ground slowly, lying you on your right side as gently as he can. 

The minute he has you safely on the floor, JK brings his hand down to your ankles and rids you of the shackles there before reaching behind you and doing the same to the iron binds around your mutilated wings. 

He grimaces at the sight of blood still oozing from the left wing that was cut in half. Then he forces himself not to linger on all the injuries across your once soft skin as he looks back at your face. 

You’ve made no indication that you know it’s him or that anyone is with you at all. 

JK leans over and moves the hair from your face, voice getting caught in his throat before he clears it and tries again. 

“Apple.”

Your face scrunches a little in pain, then you slowly blink your eyes open to see a blurry face in front of you. 

He hushes you quietly when you flinch and close your eyes, “It’s me. I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.”

You don’t open your eyes but he sees a small tear slide down your cheek.

“Demons don’t make promises,” the soft whisper of your voice breaks, “Only deals.”

His eyes drift over your bloody face, the silence following your words is deafening.

After a moment, he takes a shaky breath in and blows it out. 

“They won’t be gone long, I need to get you out of here.”

At your lack of response he gently touches your cheek, only to find that you’ve lost consciousness again. 

JK sighs softly, then he places a hand on each of your shoulders where the skin is discolored. At his touch, the distorted joints move back into place, but the bruising doesn’t go away. He leans back to pull the silk top shirt off of himself, leaving only the short sleeved one on. He ever so gently drapes the smooth black fabric over your front, protecting the sake of your modesty best as he can.

Then he puts his arms underneath you and stands, effortlessly picking you up and cradling you in his hold before turning and walking out of the prison cell. 

He walks all the way down the hall and up the stairs without stopping. 

Your wings hang loosely as he goes, still bleeding. They leave a trail of splattered scarlet drops behind the two of you. 

When he steps out of the mountain and into the red light, he sees your eyes scrunch unconsciously due to the lack of anything other than darkness for a while. You move your head to the side a little to hide in his chest and block the painful brightness.

He adjusts you in his arms before starting on the long trek ahead. 

___________________

You walked along the ancient stone pavement that curved around a particularly puffy cloud. When you rounded the cloud, you could see marble pavilions covered in green ivy and ivory flowers just ahead. 

“Well if it isn’t the newest treasure! Hi ____!”

“Oh, hello Leon!” You smiled and waved at the angel that flew up to you excitedly. You had met him shortly after arriving and he was as friendly as could be. 

“Where are you off to?” 

“Imelda has called me to speak with them.”

Leon smiled comfortingly, “This is about Jungkook, isn’t it?”

“I’m guessing so,” you whispered, a little on edge to find out what exactly happened after your death. It hadn’t even been a day since you arrived, which meant it had still only been three days after your death on Earth.

The angel patted your shoulder, changing the subject a bit to calm you. 

“You’d get there faster if you flew!”

You laughed nervously and glanced back at the slender wings resting behind you that matched his own apart from his being larger. 

As a child, you always dreamt of flying with the clouds and the birds. It suddenly seemed a bit daunting, especially seeing all the other angels flying to and fro with an elegance and grace unmatched. The one time you tried earlier you had crashed right into one of the honeysuckle bushes and had to get help from a passing angel to get out.

Thankfully they were the only one to see you. It also helped a bit that angels are not like people and have no reason to mock.

Leon could tell by the look on your face what you were thinking. 

“____.”

You looked back at him. 

“Imelda would not have asked you to make the choice if you were not meant to. You belong here, you know that right?”

A genuine smile broke out on your face and you nodded. 

As worried as you were about messing up, there was never a place you felt more at home. There was no doubt in your mind or heart that this place was where you would always belong. You couldn’t wait to share it with your best friend.

“Good!” The pretty angel giggled and patted you on the head sweetly, “I’ll see you around! You’ve got this.”

You waved as he flew away; looking completely natural among the clouds lined with a slight hint of silver and gold. 

Of course, Leon had been an angel since the beginning, he could never look out of place. 

-

You walked up the steps to the third pavilion to see your guardian angel Imelda, who had told you her name shortly after you came through the gates. She was speaking with Him. 

Imelda was sitting on one of the many pillows strewn across the shimmering floor, adorned in her usual delicately armored gown, the sword safe at her side. 

He sat on one of the rose gold benches lined with small white flowers, your guardian angel at His feet. Golden and purple robes flowed around Him, white hair and a white beard making His striking violet eyes flecked with silver stand out even more than usual.

Bringing yourself to a low genuflect, you bowed your head respectfully. 

When you straightened, you were met with smiling eyes that held an ancient wisdom and a wonderful warmth filled you to the brim. 

“____.”

You inclined your head again.

“We have much to discuss, I am afraid it is not positive in nature.” His voice was deep, the oceans couldn't even dream to compare.  

You nodded, already having assumed as much. 

He gestured a hand out for you to take a seat amongst the pillows so that you would be comfortable rather than standing for long. 

Quickly you moved to a plush pink pillow, a little too quickly you realized, when it slid a bit with you on it and a small yelp left your lips in surprise. 

Fond chuckles floated from the two you came to meet and you felt your cheeks burn. It was nice to make someone laugh when they were not harboring any malicious intent towards you.

The air turned serious soon after, the news that was to be shared hanging in the air. 

“It’s about Jungkook…?” You whispered. 

“Yes.”

You closed your eyes and gulped, “He’s taken my death even worse than I thought…hasn’t he?”

The silence that stretched on made a pit form in your stomach before you glanced up to look at them. Of course, you couldn’t be happier after death, you would never ever want to go back to that place, as beautiful as Earth was on its own, it couldn’t compare. You knew though, that poor Jungkook would not be feeling the same right then.

He was opening His mouth to speak when there was a horrible sound of sobbing that ripped through the air. 

A sound of such anguish was not normal here, it made the hairs stand up on your arms as you looked around to locate the source. 

It was coming from an angel, a guardian by the look of his baby blue wings and tunic. All of the guardians and the unborn children were a different color. The other angels, including you, were white; apart from a select few. 

But why was this guardian angel crying?

“Abba!”

The angel boy flew into the pavilion and landed with a harsh crash to the marble floor at His feet. 

“Nehemiah.”

You watched in confusion and a deep sadness as the angel who He called by name began to sob harder and clutch at His robes while sobbing into His knee. It looked like a child weeping on their parent’s lap after waking from a night terror. 

Nehemiah looked no older than fifteen; his chin-length wavy blonde hair contributing to making him look quite youthful despite all the ages of the universe he had witnessed thus far.

“Abba! I- I lost him!” Nehemiah choked on another sob, his pretty face covered in shiny tears and pale cheeks unnaturally blotchy as he hugged His knee. 

You looked at Imelda, who was holding back tears of her own as she watched Him comfort the weeping angel. 

“You did well, Nehemiah. You did well.”

You could hear His deep soothing voice through the fog of horror beginning to cloud your mind. 

When Imelda looked at you, you could see it in her eyes.

You stood, chest rising and falling in short panicky breaths. 

Nehemiah turned at the movement and saw you, a quick flash of recognition in his eyes, then he quickly broke down into more gut-wrenching sobs. You had never, never in all your life on Earth, heard the sound of such heartbreak. 

Your eyes drifted to Him and you saw a tear falling down His soft cheek. 

“No,” you mumbled, shaking your head slowly, “No.”

It was a desperate plea for them to tell you that it was not what you feared. 

You died. You were always meant to be the one that died too young. Jungkook was alive. He was down there and needed you to go soothe him, that’s all. That’s why they brought you here, to tell you he was in need of comfort and that you could give it to him.

But when you looked at the blue angel once again, you knew it wasn’t true. 

If everything was okay, he would not be here without him…

You walked over and fell to your knees, wrapping your arms around Jungkook’s guardian angel and holding him tight. He was shaking like a leaf as he hugged you back just as tight, “I’m so sorry,” he sobbed mournfully. 

You stroked his hair softly with shaking hands, silent tears falling down your face. 

-

“What do you mean, he made a deal?” 

Your voice was quiet, eyes red and tender from crying. 

Imelda was the only one still with you in the pavilion.

“In exchange for your health, Jungkook summoned a demon…he was visited by Lucifer himself.”

You knew of who she spoke. 

After coming here, everything became clear. The history of the angels and demons, of the universe itself; it all became known to you. 

“When?” Your voice broke in disbelief. You knew nothing of this summoning or this deal making that he had done. 

Then it suddenly hit you. 

“The Flame of Immortality…he wanted it,” you whispered in horror, “When he left after we were married. That’s where he went, isn’t it?”

Imelda nodded solemnly, “That is what he left for, it is not what he got.”

“But- but how? Why was it allowed to happen, why-”

“Nehemiah did the best he could,” Imelda’s voice was thick with grief, “His first choice was to love Jungkook, as mine was to love you. He spent Jungkook’s entire existence protecting him and comforting him, even during the deal. He urged Jungkook not to do it, but he was not heeded. There was only so much he could do when Jungkook had a choice.”

Tears fell down your cheeks. 

“Why didn’t he come to me?” You choked on your next breath, a hand moving to your chest in an effort to keep the air going in and out, “Why didn’t he come to me and tell me everything?”

“If he had…there was certainly something we would’ve been able to do. If he wanted help, we would have freely given even more of it than we already were. Jungkook was too far into despair and wanted what seemed to be the easy answer, he didn’t want to listen to Nehemiah’s warnings. He gave his life for you, but not in the way it should’ve ever been. Nehemiah stood by him, though, even in his last moments.” 

“Where is he?” Your voice shook.

“Jungkook died three days after you. He has been taken to Hell to uphold his end of the bargain.”

You closed your eyes slowly, hands trembling. 

“How do we get him back?” You choked out.

When she said nothing, you looked at her.

“Imelda, please. I know nothing is impossible for Him. Tell me how we can save Jungkook.”

“We can do nothing right now-”

“But-”

“Jungkook made a choice, he made a deal. But he was tricked into it without much knowledge and in the desire to do good for someone he loved. Lucifer cannot win when love and self-sacrifice is involved. He wants nothing to do with it.”

Your guardian angel took your hands and pulled you up from the pillow you were still sitting on. 

“For that reason alone, the deal can be revoked. But it comes at the highest price and only at a certain time.”

“When? When can I save him? I will go now,” you began to cry harder, “I will go and I will take him from there, please tell me how Imelda.”

Her green eyes glistened with tears. 

“The deal can only be broken for a condemned soul every five hundred years.”

You felt your heart stop in your chest and you choked back a sob.

“He made a deal with the Devil, ____. A deal that would have sealed his eternal damnation had it been for his own selfishness. We are lucky he made it out of unconditional love for you, we are lucky that we can save him.”

You nodded, wiping at your eyes frantically to clear them of the never-ending deluge. 

“Then when the time comes, I will go to Hell and I will save him,” your voice shook, “What is the price? Whatever it is, I will pay it. I’m not afraid.”

A single tear fell from Imelda’s eye as she looked down at you, a hidden pain in her gaze. 

“The same price that Jungkook paid,” she whispered, “A life for a life.”

_________________________________________

read 15b HERE

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[enhypencores]

Bleed Me Dry

Lee Heeseung X Y/N

Genre: Yandere Romance/ Thriller/ Stalker

Prompt: "If I carve you into my blood, will you believe my love?"

Word Count: 7K+

WARNING⚠️: Explicit content, profanity, sexual harassment, heated make outs, female stereotyping, use of a derogatory word, violence, lots of blood, aggression, toxic masculinity, yandre, manipulation, mentions of self exit, unhealthy relationships and mental health issues. Y/N described with long hair and brown eyes.

Cameos: Jake, Jay, Sunghoon, Sunoo, Yeji, Karina, Jaemin and Jisung

A/N: Please read the warnings carefully before proceeding. There's heavy discussions and complex character dynamics. None of it is healthy. This is a work of fiction, please read it as such. If I missed out any, lemme know.

Heeseung watched you, mentally tracing the curve of your bottom lip as you awaited the bus, your nose scrunching in disgust at the passing smokers. The fullness of your cheeks flushed red as the scorching heat streamed through your hand’s barrier, and the silky strands of brown hair cascaded down your neck as you climbed up the bus. Your forehead wrinkled as you leaned down to scan your card, and your nimble steps took you to the end row. Sweat drops trickled down the bony line of your collarbone, dipping into your white collar, dampening the fabric as your eyes rolled back and your head fell slack against the teetering glass window.

This was his sign.

He strutted through the door and beelined towards the back. He was so close to settling down, just another step, and he'd be enveloped in your presence when all his plans fell through the window. He halted, his eyes widening in disbelief as a boy settled beside you, unaware of the fury he had just unleashed within Heeseung's blood. Heeseung swallowed the colourful words itching up his throat and forced himself into the seat behind, away from you.

He stared at the gap between your shoulders, bitterness pooling in his chest. Each time the boy's arm brushed against yours, Heeseung's restraint wavered, his nails digging into his palm as he envisioned tearing the boy's joint off for daring to feel you. His temper flared when he spotted your oblivious frame, still, sound asleep like a princess in the comfort of her sheets. You were so perplexingly naive, falling asleep in a bus full of men waiting to pounce on meek girls like yourself. It usually took around forty-five minutes for you to reach home, but you could've at least placed your bag on the vacant seat so no one—except him—would take the spot beside you.

Heeseung trained his gaze on his wristwatch, every tick of the short hand's movement making him lose his mind. He could've been the one pressed against your shoulders, bathing in your essence, had that loser found another spot. Fortunately, he didn't have to dwell in misery for long because at the very next stop, the loser grabbed his bag from the floor, preparing to leave. Heeseung analysed his watch.

Ten minutes. Gone.

Ten minutes he could've spent right beside you.

The boy stood alert, pressing the button, and the bus came to a standstill. As he stepped through the aisle, his foot landed against a round object, throwing him off balance and sending him tumbling to the ground with his jawline scraping against the hard floor. The entire bus gasped in unison as the boy sat up, his frantic gaze searching for the perpetrator.

A round basketball swirled by his feet.

"Shit, that slipped. My bad," Heeseung muttered, standing from his seat and holding out his hand with an apologetic smile, which the unsuspecting boy accepted with an embarrassed grin.

Heeseung watched the boy rub at his injured chin, confused at the ball's magical appearance as he tugged on his bag's strap and stammered out of the bus with an obvious limp.

Hopefully, that injury lasted ten days to account for the ten precious minutes of Heeseung's life.

Immediately, Heeseung turned back, glancing at your limp frame. His heart raced at the sight. He took small, calculated steps before gently lowering himself into the seat beside you. At the first brush of your elbow, Heeseung's body grew warm, heart drumming faster within his chest. He itched to press his entire body against yours. For now, however, he slightly edged closer, letting your clothed shoulder graze his arm, his eyes rolling shut at the subtle contact.

For the past month, he was a silent observer, watching you walk from your university to the bus, bus to your house in a disciplined schedule. It became part of his very routine. He would wait around your campus at 3:00 sharp to follow you onto the bus and spend the next blissful forty-five minutes watching you sleep away. Heeseung would climb off at your stop, ensuring you crossed the road safely. Only when your back disappeared into the villa and yellow lights at the right-end corner flickered to life would Heeseung return to get a bus back.

He was watching over you to keep you safe. The world lurked with dangers, and you were so innocent, so beautiful, so mesmerizing, so agonizingly weak like a frail flower in a garden full of cacti. He had no option but to take on the role of a silent guardian, protecting you from the world. He told himself he valued your safety. But deep down, he knew it was more than that. He needed to be near you, to feel your presence, to submerge within your life and become a part woven for your pleasure.

Usually, he stayed a safe distance away to admire your presence. A week ago, he stared at the empty seat with longing. Like an addiction, his tolerance had grown. Seeing you from afar wasn't enough. He wanted to feel your presence. His body automatically followed his yearning, getting up and climbing into the seat beside yours.

And since then, he couldn't get enough.

All of a sudden, Heeseung's focus wavered as the bus came to an abrupt halt. He impulsively brought his arm around your frame, viciously eyeing the driver for his rash turn. As he felt something drop against his shoulder, Heeseung froze. He gulped carefully, turning to inspect you.

His insides twisted in joy. The sight of your sleeping frame leaning against him with your head on his shoulder was enough to make him forget his annoyance at the bus driver. Heeseung shifted closer to let your head rest in the crevice of his neck.

His breath hitched at the contact; your face pressed firmly into his bare neck. Flesh on flesh. His hand clenched into a strained fist, nails digging into his palm, leaving indents as your warm breath nuzzled down his collarbone and spread to his chest. He looked down at your unresponsive frame and realised he had never seen you so up close.

With the closer angle, he noticed washed-out freckles like sand dust trailing down your nose. Your eyelashes were curled black, resting low on your cheeks angelically. Your mouth was cutely pressed into a light pout against his top, your nose squished into his collarbones, making his hairs rise.

Heeseung urged himself to calm down. If you heard the frantic pacing of his heart, you'd wake up before he had the chance to revel in your skin's warmth. He breathed in the scent of fresh vanilla, something inside his abdomen stirring as he realised how you might leave him smelling like yourself, like a protective feline, marking their territory. Heeseung smiled, his body automatically turning towards you, eyes shining in anticipation.

Your body craved him just as badly as he craved you.

Thirty-five minutes passed by in the blink of an eye. He didn't even register the familiar streets treading along the window, his sight and mind filled with images of your pretty face when suddenly your phone beeped, jerking you awake. Heeseung swore under his breath, body recoiling in complaint as you pulled away, grabbing the phone in your jeans pocket and shutting off the alarm. He forced himself to look the other way, his breathing unsteady as he restrained the urge to yank you back.

Roused awake, you quickly stood alert, pressing the button, your knees accidentally bumping into the stranger's legs as you proceeded to step out of the aisle. You turned back to look at the masked man. 

He watched, breath-held, heart thudding.

His wide eyes met yours, and you gave him a suppressed smile before walking off.

Goosebumps. His head felt like jelly, mind straining to grasp at the smile you sent his way—a smile meant for him—not the kind one you give the shopkeeper when he hands you your groceries—not the empathetic one you flash to the older citizens slowly climbing the bus—not the patient one you give to the raucous bikers outside the campus—a soft, sweet, and memorable smile. Only for him.

Heeseung was so dazed that he simply forgot to get off at the stop with you. Instead, he sat rigid, attempting to process the burst of emotions within his chest. He looked down and—thank fuck he did because he might’ve missed it if he was preoccupied in following behind. There, on his grey flannel, an inch lower from his collar, was a wet mark that belonged to you. Not only did you leave him smelling like your vanilla body wash, but you also stained him with your saliva.

His heart thrummed. He pulled his mask down. With his lower region tingling, his hand instinctively grabbed at the collar to pull the wet fabric into his mouth. Head dropping back, his vision blurred, his body tightening at the first taste of your mouth.

He lapped at the spot like a starved man, his legs pressing together to relieve some of the tension in his painfully hard centre. Sweat built up in his clenched fist as he sucked the fabric and rolled his tongue against it, wishing he could feel it directly from your mouth rather than the brittle cotton of his shirt. His desires had climbed up a new ladder; nothing was enough anymore. He needed to lap at the delicate roundness of your lips, suck off your taste from inside, and drown his tongue in its heat.

He needed you, physically, emotionally—unabashed and unhidden.

It was time.

—.—.—.—.—.—.—

Extracurriculars were starting to take a toll on your mental health. You were already part of the university’s student advisory council and head of the reading club. With exams looming and Miss Sol’s exhaustive dance training sessions, you were certain you would either fail all your exams or get home on a stretcher. For the past week, you had been getting home around sunset, but today, you finished training earlier. Giddily, you jumped onto the bus, excited to get home and munch on ramen before your older brother got his hands on it.

You sat in your usual backseat and immediately fell asleep.

When your alarm blared, you quickly silenced your phone and got up, pressing the button to alert the bus driver. You glanced to your side, expecting to see the masked man who had unknowingly become your bus ride companion, but his seat was vacant. Confused, you glanced around, but only saw aged faces and school students. 

Strange. You assumed he was a college student like yourself, never skipping a day.

You shrugged, climbed off the bus and made your way across the main road toward your house. As you strutted inside the villa, a blinding object flashed past your vision, clashing against your torso and shoving you to the floor. You looked up furiously.

The culprit, your smug brother with his blonde hair falling against his eyes, kneeled down to grab the basketball. “Weren’t you supposed to get home late?” His accusatory tone made you want to scratch the smirk off his mouth.

“Oh, sorry for colliding into your ball.” You smiled sarcastically, standing up. His sardonic smile widened.

“Don’t do it again, little sis,” he grinned, and your patience flew out the window. You jumped up to grab his hair, but as if anticipating your attack, he dodged, sprinting down the hallway with the ball cocooned in his embrace.

“Sim Jaeyun!” You screeched, chasing him through the lounge and out the backdoor toward the inbuilt basketball court. 

You never hated your short height, but in moments like these, you wished you had inherited your father’s long legs. As you watched him speed up beside the basketball court, you frustratedly changed your route, dashing into the square-shaped arena, running diagonally, hoping the Pythagorean theorem would help you reach Jake faster.

With your gaze trained on your target, you saw Jake dribble the ball ahead as you blindly ran down the court, so blind that you didn’t notice a taller figure standing in your way. You collided into a frame, slamming against a hard chest, sending you both tumbling to the ground. You gasped, eyes bulging out as a pair of brown eyes stared at you, wide with panic.

You muttered a rushed apology, attempting to get up when you noticed his arms were locked around your waist protectively.

“Get off Heeseung, you midget!” Jake yelled, nearing your limp frame. You gave him a scorned glare, sitting up as the man’s arms slowly fell away. You stood up together as Jake dribbled his basketball, an amused grin on his features.

Sourly glaring, you didn’t hesitate to whip Jake with your bag. He groaned, almost flinging the basketball at you when the black-haired man pushed ahead immediately, blocking your brother’s aggression.

“She’s a menace. Let me deal with it,” Jake bitterly told the stranger.

“Shut up, Jake! You’re the menace in this household,” you huffed, glaring at him.

Then, your gaze settled back on the brown-eyed man, and your cheeks flushed red as you surveyed the stranger’s features. Ethereal. Big eyes as naïve as a deer’s, a peculiarly sharp nose, plump, wet lips, and dark ebony hair—the man was majestic. Dressed in a grey tank top and trousers, sweat clung to his tan skin, dripping down his well-built biceps like honey. He seemed to have walked straight out of a sports tournament.

“Who’s this?” You blurted out, eyeing the handsome man with flushed cheeks.

“Heeseung, a friend. Heeseung, this is Y/N, unfortunately, related to me.” You smacked your bag into his stomach, pushing him back as he doubled over and clutched his torso, glaring at you through his gold bangs. 

“That’s no way to treat your younger sister, Jake,” Heeseung's stern voice oozed masculine charm—almost giving you whiplash. His reprimanding made your brother’s temper dissolve, and he unclenched his jaw, nodding obediently. You stared, baffled at the sudden shift in his demeanour.

You had never seen your older brother submissively agree with anyone—not even your parents. Having a one-year age gap, the older child's privilege, and spoiled treatment from your parents really did a number on him. His friend group consisted of boys who worked like dogs to gain his acceptance, and your brother bathed in the glory. He wasn’t overtly arrogant, but good grades and amazing basketball performances would make anyone feel like they owned the world. Not to mention, his faked kind personality had everyone running laps. You can’t even count how many hearts he’d broken from middle school to university. 

Watching him listen to Heeseung, you could tell he was someone important to your brother.

You glanced back at the towering man. He even carried himself with an air of indifference, intimidating yet undeniably attractive, commanding everyone’s interest. Under the sunlight, his pupils glowed like lit candles, growing small into a crescent shape as a warm smile grazed his lips, his gaze softening. Tousled strands fell into his dreamy eyes as he nodded. Baffled, you wondered how one second, he seemed like an intimidating adult, reprimanding the kids, and the other moment, he appeared boyish and charming, his eyes brimming with youthful energy. 

“Y/N.” Your name rolled off his tongue like butter, making your insides curl.

The night you met him, you stalked your brother’s account to find that intriguing man. You scoured through hundreds of Jake’s irrelevant followers, desperately searching for an account starting with the letter H. To your disappointment, no such account existed.

You wondered if Heeseung was old school and went down a rabbit hole, searching through the depths of Facebook. Lee Heeseung—his name in itself was traditional and old, so you didn’t even come across any likely accounts. You gave up and tried asking Jake; however, your brother rarely answered any of your questions. You had no choice but to wait for another encounter. 

—.—.—.—.—.—.—

Like a surprising miracle, the next encounter came earlier than expected. A week later, you were buried in exam questions, struggling to absorb the entire pharmacology textbook, when the doorbell rang. You tried to ignore it, but after several insistent rings, you begrudgingly stomped to the door. You weren’t expecting anyone; your parents were at a dinner party, and Jake was at a cram class. You mentally prepared yourself to scream at the neighbour’s kids who frequently stood outside your door to mess around. 

You flung the door open, ready to unleash your frustrations, when your jaw dropped. The familiar round eyes met yours, kickstarting a joyous flutter of butterflies in your stomach. Heeseung stood as handsome as the first day, wearing a black hoodie and jeans. He carried a bunch of hefty books, his gaze searching behind you.

“Y/N,” he called your name, and your ears reddened. He enunciated each syllable as if he knew you for ages, called you it for ages.

“Jaeyun left some astrophysics books at my place.” He peered at the stack in his hold.

You smiled apologetically because, of course, your forgetful brother did. 

“He’s out right now,” you told him. “But that’s alright, I’ll take these.” His smile softened as he held out the books. You stepped closer, circling your arm around the stack, but your weak arms failed to carry the weight, embarrassingly almost dropping them to the floor. 

Heeseung quickly tightened his hold on the books, pulling back with a teasing smile. “I’ll take them in,” he stated. Before you could reject his kindness, he stepped inside, pausing in the hallway.

You led him to the lounge, where he kept the books on the wooden table. You offered him a smile as your heart beat frantically. Watching him stand close in your vicinity when you were home alone felt like all your prayers had been answered.

He turned to look at you, pulling back the strands that had fallen against his vision. A smile stretched his lips. “You were studying?” He asked, his voice low yet echoing in the empty hall. Your lips parted, eyes wide in shock.

“How’d you know?” You questioned incredulously.

His smile morphed into a grin. Wordlessly, he reached out and gently pulled the pencil from your hair. The hair bun unravelled, brown strands running down your neck, grazing his fingertips as something flickered in his gaze. He watched the soft layers frame your face. You giggled, face warming up. You tried to grab the pencil, but Heeseung pulled it away, smirking at your embarrassment.

“Let me guess, pharmacology is kicking your ass?” He scoffed, and you gasped in retaliation.

“Now, how do you know my degree?” You stared in confusion.

He chuckled. “Your brother says it’s your worst decision.”

Fucking Sim Jaeyun. Always ruining your reputation everywhere with his big ass mouth.

You sighed, rolling your eyes in frustration. You somewhat disliked your crush knowing about your crisis with that god-awful degree.

“I’m doing fine,” you bitterly claimed. “I ace Biochem and almost every other module. Anatomy is just from the depths of hell,” you spewed some irrelevant achievements, immediately cringing at how self-indulgent you sounded.

God, you were pathetic. You wondered if Heeseung saw through your façade.

Heeseung shifted his weight onto his right leg. “I can help,” he offered, a flamboyant grin flashing across his features as he nodded at your shocked expression. “I ace Anatomy all the time,” he mocked your tone, lips twisting in a teasing smile.

You huffed. Guys usually scored seventy per cent and flaunted it like they won a Nobel prize. “What’s your highest test score?” Your overconfident-self asked, folding your arms over your chest with an egoistic smile.

He watched silently for a moment before returning that sharp smile.

“3.9.”

Pfft. You rolled your eyes, grabbing at your hair in frustration. Was Heeseung as annoying as Jake? “Real funny,” you scoffed, wishing you could erase the smugness off his handsome face.

“3.9 GPA in premed.”

Oh.

Your overconfidence deflated like a balloon. Heeseung smirked and stepped closer, arms folded over his lean chest, mocking your demeanour.

“So?”

You nervously gulped, stepping back from his overwhelming presence. This tall, gorgeous man had casually revealed his Einstein-level intelligence, and now, you felt utterly stupid, crying over some basic anatomy. Even Jake struggled to maintain a decent 3.5.

Your eyes widened as you registered the situation again. Heeseung was offering his help. Even if he thought you were stupid, you could change that, prove him wrong and possibly gather more information about him through a tutoring session, for example, unearth his socials. You could probably get closer and know more.

With your decision made, you nodded at him.

“Alright.”

Heeseung felt like he’d plummet to the floor in relief. He watched the curiosity in your doe eyes gleam as you determinedly stepped towards the hallway, walking up the stairs. He took the first step, his knees trembling as he watched you peppily jump to the right-end door. You were showing him the way to your bedroom.

Your bedroom.

Heeseung’s body fired up like an overheated kettle, his muscles tensing against the railing. You pushed the door open and stepped inside, turning to wait for him. How naïve. How fucking naïve. You had opened up your home, welcomed him inside, and now you were leading him into your personal space, the small corner in this massive house that belonged solely to you, the corner he was used to seeing from outside the house. 

Were you that stupid?

He had seen your parents leave in glamorous attire with a bouquet of flowers, indicating they'd be gone for a substantial time. Jake wasn’t home, attending cram school from 6:00 to 8:00 pm. That left you… vulnerable and alone.

Despite his resolve to wait a good two weeks before visiting again, Heeseung’s patience had worn thin. That initial meeting, feeling your soft curves press into his chest as you toppled over him, had ignited a craving in him. Your scent mingled with his, your body fitting perfectly against him—it had all transcended his tolerance. He had felt his internal organs shift with momentary bliss, his body reacting as if you were made to be felt by him.

Now he was here, in your house, in your presence.

He knew the moment he stepped into your room, he couldn’t leave until he made you his, in some way, in any way. Anticipation bubbled in his veins as he rushed up the stairs.

“Heeseung?”

He froze, his body whipping around to face the intruder. His gaze turned to steel, jaw tightening at the sight of a confused Jake standing in the doorway.

Sim—Fucking—Jaeyun, the brother who wasn’t supposed to be home for at least another hour.

“Jake?” you inquired, stepping back out and shutting your door. Heeseung’s fists clenched as he stared at the closed door, frustration churning in his stomach. So close. He had been just a step away from entering your room.

Beneath that door lay the key to your heart. Access to your room meant understanding your interests, habits, likes, and dislikes, transforming himself into the man you dreamed of. Jake was a limited source. How much does a brother really talk about his sister?

“What’re you doing here?” Jake questioned as Heeseung and you descended the stairs.

“He was here to drop off the books you read as a useless hobby, so I asked for help with Anatomy,” you explained, smiling at Heeseung, who now seemed oddly stern.

Jake snickered, pulling off his baseball cap to let blonde locks fall into his eyes. “You’re pestering my friend for anatomy?” He chuckled as you rolled your eyes.

“No, I offered,” Heeseung replied, his tone sharp and cutting through. You turned your head in confusion at his sudden change in demeanour. “Don’t you stay for an extra lesson?” Heeseung raised his brow, seemingly well-versed in Jake’s schedule.

“Yeah, but they let us out early since we’ve covered the semester,” Jake responded, indifferent to Heeseung’s tone, as he tossed his bag onto the floor.

“Up for a round of LOL?” Jake rubbed his palms together in excitement.

Heeseung’s cold gaze changed with a hint of amusement as he nodded. He turned to you, his smile languid. “Sorry Y/N, League of Legends will always be my first choice,” he declared.

“It’s cool, I’ll survive,” you scoffed, jogging back up the stairs and closing your door to resume studying.

Dropping into the armchair, your thoughts drifted to the sudden shift in atmosphere at Jake’s arrival. Jake and Heeseung’s friendship seemed...strange. Your brother followed Heeseung’s lead without question, even overlooking his friend's occasional indifference. Jake, a softie, who would give you the silent treatment for calling him a nerd, yapping about ‘she called me a bad word’ to your mother, seemed unfazed by Heeseung’s intimidating nature.

Shaking your head, you forced your attention back to your studies, determined to focus despite the lingering curiosity.

—.—.—.—.—.—.—

Another round. 

Another one.

One more.

Heeseung was losing patience, hectically pressing buttons on the Nintendo Switch, his fingers straining to match his brain’s pace. With a hazy vision, Heeseung turned to inspect Jake. Finally, the blonde had lost his will to play, dropping to the couch as snores wracked his frame. It had taken five gruelling hours of continuous rounds, but it would all be worth it.

The opportunity had presented itself, Heeseung internally reasoned. He didn���t sneak into your house or anything— he had greeted your parents when they returned and even ate some snacks your mother had lovingly offered. He was not an intruder. He was a guest, and now the guest was wandering in search of a bathroom. He knew Jake’s bathroom was down the hall, but he purposely overlooked that route, opting instead to tread up the staircase. With every step, rugged creaks whispered in the darkness, but Jake’s tumultuous snores helped mask his motives. 

Soon, he was standing before your door. And this time, he was unstoppable because no one would bother you at 3 AM.

Breath held, lips pressed in silent tension, he pulled at the handle and slipped inside. A thicker blanket of darkness clouded his vision. Freezing against the door, Heeseung blinked rapidly, determined to accommodate his vision. Streaks of streetlight treaded inside from the edge of the curtain, letting him finally see his surroundings, and he turned to inspect the room.

A study desk toppled with bulks of books and papers with sharpies and pens laid at the edge. Heeseung quietly stepped towards it, his finger grazing the neat text, written with keen attention. His chest tingled when he imagined you pepped up on the swivelling chair, jotting down intricate notes with such pretty handwriting. By the look of it, he could tell you were at the top of your studies, a beauty with brains.

Heeseung noticed your phone charging on the edge of the table and quickly grabbed a hold of it. He didn’t know enough to unlock your phone, but he could easily download his new software without a fuss. Heeseung pulled out his phone, automatically airdropping the relevant file to yours. The new software wasn’t an ordinary tracking device, but it even synced your live activity. Now onwards, all your texts and calls would go through him. The only drawback? He needed time for the syncing to finalise.

He put your phone down, but his gaze caught the back cover, and he immediately inspected it. You kept a Polaroid inside the cover, a beautiful smile lighting up your features as you stood next to your best friend at what seemed like Disneyland. Heeseung wanted to cherish your smile, but noticing the arm your friend easily draped across your waist, fury seethed beyond his pupils.

Why were people so effortlessly a part of your life? Why did it come so easily to everyone but him? To him, you were so distant like a dream. He had to bide his time, pretend to be patient, and even befriend a narcissist like Jake, just to make you aware of his existence.

Why couldn’t he just have you?

Heeseung turned away, his mood soured, his gaze searching for something to get his mind off the bitterness. The room was… perplexingly simple. Most of your personality was huddled on that desk; the walls were empty with just a cuckoo clock in the centre and a bean bag resting against the wardrobe. Dispiritedly, he allowed himself to gaze at the bed.

A master bed served with your petite frame wrapped like a sushi roll on a platter.

Heeseung’s body grew warm at the sight. You were in dreamland, the sound of slow breathing now clearer to his ears as he crept closer. He stood at the edge of the bed, his gaze running over your frame. To his displeasure, your face was hidden from his prying eyes, strands disorderly shadowing your features, evoking his irritation.

He couldn’t help it. He found himself getting nearer, your scent getting stronger, soft vanilla teasing his nostrils. Placing his knee on the white sheets, he leaned forward and brushed the strands off your face.

Long lashes rested against your tinted cheeks, round parted lips with a hint of drool running past the corner. Heeseung didn’t even notice when he had dropped himself on the sheets’, his torso completely resting beside your sleeping frame. 

Heaven. The sheets were warm and immersed in your scent, giving him the illusion of your embrace. 

His palms itched to touch. His tongue felt heavy with appetite. He had memorised every inch of your beauty to see you behind his eyelids, but his hands still didn’t know your touch.

Heeseung impulsively reached out, his index finger grazing your bottom lip. Instantly, heat spread from his chest down to his centre. His fingers trembled as he traced the rose petals. Your slow breaths coupled with the softness of your lips made his hunger flare up. He trailed the finger down your chin, collecting your drool, and he transferred it to his mouth, impatiently sucking in your taste. 

He couldn’t help the urge to lower himself, stick his tongue out and slide it against your bottom lip.

His toes curled, his eyes falling shut.

Euphoria. 

Suddenly, he felt like a teenager sharing his first kiss. Your saliva was like sugar melting on his tongue, a taste so delectable that his insides curled in starvation. Heeseung wasn’t a fan of desserts, but your flavour humbled him, making him realise what he’d been missing all his life. He preferred the taste of wine and burnt spices, believing his palate was too mature for anything so juvenile. Yet, god—your lips were like the first shot of his high. Suddenly, sweet things became irresistible.

His lower region tingled as his flicks became harsher, his mouth wide open in mindless hunger, his drool messily spilling on your lips. His mind buzzed, body twisting into the sheet in urgency; your taste had rendered him so weak that he was willing to disrupt his entire plan just from the heat of your mouth.

He felt his arousal strain through his trousers as he tried sliding his tongue in the small gleaming gap in your lips when suddenly he felt you stir. He jerked away, breath heaving, lips drenched with spit. Narrow-eyed, he surveyed your features.

Please not yet. Please, baby.

Instead of ruining his plans, you simply tugged the blanket low. He saw your tongue peek out and run over your bottom lip and gulp down his saliva. It was unintentional and child-like, maybe, one of your sleeping habits. But Heeseung’s blood burned at the sight, his mouth drying up, pupils darkening.

His gaze chased lower, and he spotted a silver of skin, peaking through the cover. The blanket was tangled low on your waist, exposing your brunched-up shirt to his hungry eyes. He didn’t even bother fighting his lascivious thoughts, abruptly tugging up your shirt to reveal your stomach. Heeseung crawled down, his lips immediately pressing into the golden skin, trailing restrained kisses up your waistline. His restrain wavered when he was presented with the sight of your tiny belly button. His mouth salivated as he observed the little hole. Instantly his tongue lashed out, dipping into the curve. His body hummed, his vision blurring as his hips involuntarily thrust into the sheets. He wanted to fill—every hole—every crevice that let him invade. If there was a part he couldn’t physically access, he wanted to stab holes and punch his essence in every corner to mark you as his.

Saliva pooled down his jawline, drenching your abdomen as he protruded his needy tongue into your warm button. He flicks become hungrier, needier, his hands scrambling to grope something—anything. With cheeks pressed flat against your damp stomach, he bit down on his lip to silence the groan itching up his throat as he squeezed your waist.

Fuck. You were made to be touched. You were made to be his clay. You were made to mould into his favourite plaything. You were made for him to love.

Inhale.

Heeseung’s gaze darted to your face, his muscles tensing at the sharp inhale.

Fuck—shit—fuck—your eyes were half open.

Survival instincts kicked in, and Heeseung rolled off the bed at lightning speed, slithering beneath it, pressing his lips together to steady his breathing. The bed creaked as you shifted and sat up. He could almost picture it: your heavy-lidded eyes widening in alarm, the image of a flushed Heeseung gazing up at you—poof—gone, like a mystical encounter. You’d wonder if seeing him there was a figment of your imagination. You’d gulp and rub your template, accepting your insanity.

Heeseung envisioned it all—and he was right.

You were going crazy, thinking about Heeseung, your brother’s best friend, doing sickening, revolting, absolutely heavenly things to you. You didn’t recall dreaming of him, but you might be a stage two schizophrenic because you were now hallucinating his presence. Your body was overly indulged in the hallucination, feverish and covered in goosebumps. You kicked off the blanket, noticing your shirt pooled up, your stomach warm, limbs shaking.

Heeseung waited, his heartbeat steadying as you showed no sign of suspicion. Just like he had imagined. Your insecure mind probably convinced you otherwise. Sometimes, even seeing doesn’t translate to believing—especially for someone as pure-hearted as you. You’d rather doubt your own soul than accuse anyone else of foul play. He’d have to teach you to believe in yourself more than this world—he’d force you to grow a thorn in that beautiful heart, so no one could taint it. Except him.

He lay there, flushed—dazed. He laid there for hours until your laborious breaths morphed into sweet lullabies.

As he slid out the bed, he turned towards you, his heart throbbing with adoration.

You were back to being a little sushi roll, covered with a blanket, your hair sticking to your face as you slept like a log. The mere thought of someone else seeing you innocently asleep made his blood boil. He'd gladly crack open their skulls, extract their hippocampi, and flush them down the toilet to erase any trace of you from their minds.

Heeseung stepped closer and gently kissed your head. He inhaled deeply, savouring your scent from your flushed frame. Reluctantly, he stepped back, grabbed his phone and ensured the sync was complete before heading out the door.

He had to speed things up; the wait was becoming unbearable.

Straight away, Heeseung took a cab home. There was a solid hour before his morning lecture, so he immediately threw himself into his bed and analysed the synced files on his phone.

Details from your phone helped him understand you, but he didn’t know everything just yet. He scrolled through your notes. You liked watching dramatic sitcoms about housewives and divorces. Your YouTube was just a diverse cookbook: most watched clips were recipes ranging from brownies to egg soufflé to Arabic hummus. He chuckled as he noticed some dance tutorials. He would love to see you dance one day.

Your social media presence was barely a drop in his research. You had zero posts, and mostly followed celebrities and high school girlfriends. Looking into your teenage years, to Heeseung’s relief, you had been to an all-girls school. He scoured your followers for any guys, but except for some male actors, you didn’t seem to have anyone worth noting.

The syncing only allowed access to a specific set of photos you had downloaded from your PC onto the mobile. There was a total of six pictures— three of those were of the fucking sunset. The rage he felt as he patiently waited for the pictures to download only to be met with an ugly ball of yellow light was unfathomable.

As he scrolled, he found a picture of a younger girl in a white sundress sitting beside a boy who proudly held up a fishing net, occupied with three mackerels, a memory of Jake and your childhood. His heart felt warm as he zoomed into your features. Unknowingly, he was tracing the line of your smile, the shape of your eyes on the screen, a dumb smile playing on his own lips.

He snapped out of it and scrolled ahead. The following picture was a group photo from— high school. You were the centre of attention, your hair up in a ponytail, a vivid smile glossing your features as girls huddled around you. He felt the magnetic pull exuding your frame even from lifeless photos— making him wish he had opted for your area, so he could have found you earlier. He believed whatever time frame he found you, he would have pounced to get you to himself.

Heeseung forcibly clicked off and opened the last photo in the synced album. His smile wiped off, his body sitting alert, his gaze narrowed and fixated on the screen. Your university’s back entrance had a swing where he noticed couples hanging and making out.

In the snapped photo, you were perched on top of the wooden swing, eating an ice lolly with a man behind you, his hands on your shoulders, a shit-eating grin on his face whilst pointing at the camera.

Heeseung’s grip on his phone tightened. From the outskirts, he hadn’t seen that face anywhere near you, but then again, how much could one know as an outsider. 

No.

Jake’s mocking insults about your love life were proof of your singularity.

He hated knowing such little about your world. He hated someone so undeserving and irrelevant could touch you so easily when he had to watch you from the shadows, dwell on small encounters.

He had to find this guy and ensure your protection before he could even think of disclosing his love for you. Whatever this man was, Heeseung had to know more.

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