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ilikemesometaetaes · 4 years

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Little One (M)

Jung Hoseok Oneshot

•••> Author: @ilikemesometaetaes

•••> Summary: You find yourself in a position where you must choose between certainly addicting or below-average satisfaction for the rest of your life.

•••> Pairing(s): Hoseok/Reader

•••> Requested by Anon: “Hey I was wondering if you could possibly do a Hoseok smut oneshot and like hes a super dom? Love you 💜”

•••> Word Count: 6.41k

•••> Rating: 18+

•••> Warnings: smut, slight impreg!kink, oral (female receiving), unprotected sex, mention(s) of masturbation, slight choking/strangulation, spanking, dirty talk, slight mention(s) of BDSM, dom/little one relationship, hobi is filthy, but he’s also respectful, cursing, pining, mild stalking?, alcohol use

Thank you for the request, anon! Sorry, it took me like a week to get it done, but here it is! I hope you enjoy :) I didn’t go back and edit it so please excuse any mistakes.

~#~

The light from the chandeliers of the ballroom dimmed as the night came undeniably closer to its end.

The event was organized by your company- a Friday evening to relax and celebrate the closing of another fiscal year. The flurries of snow that dusted the sidewalks outside the venue served as a reminder that the year, in itself, was coming to an end too.

Smooth, Christmas-themed jazz music acted as a factor in your sleepy demeanor, relaxing you into a comfortable glow of warmth despite failing your mission.

You were here strictly on business; there was no time to mess around and slack off. A handful of flutes of champagne and a double pour of whiskey- which you hardly ever drank- were enough to relax you and make you confident in the success of your duty to find a proper suitor to make you cum tonight.

In the past, you had tried flings with acquaintances and a few friends, but they had turned out to be absolutely disdainful in the fact that, despite them, you had only cum twice at the hands of another in the last year and a half. Instead, you wanted to give a one night stand a try- purely for research purposes, of course. Who knew? Maybe you were into the riskiness and detachment of it all.

As the hours passed, however, you found yourself slowly resorting to the quiet and dark corners of the room, sipping on another flute of champagne in hopeless surrender with your warm buzz fading pathetically.

Unbeknownst to you, a set of dark eyes had been tracking you for a good portion of the evening. On the prowl for its prey, the owner of those eyes weighed the options sat before him, but he needed to make sure you were alone before he could risk indulging too far.

There was no ring on your finger; no one bringing you a drink; no one you interacted with longer than a short greeting and the occasional hug.

It didn’t take him very long to realize that you were incredibly and unbelievably by your lonesome.

He couldn’t help the smirk from pulling up the corner of his lips while his friends spoke loudly around him. From his seat at the table, he had a perfect view of where you stood in the shadows, however, staring too hard could prove to be the downfall of his plan as he did not want to get caught. Instead, the glass of scotch in his hand held his gaze while he rolled the sphere of ice around it in thought. He would have to be patient.

He recognized the look of defeat when he saw one. He read the way your flawless lips had slowly formed a permanent scowl of self-pity as the minutes turned into hours.

What a pitiful look on such a gorgeous little thing. He mused in thought.

By the time your phone read 12:45 am, you accepted defeat in its ugliest form. Shoulders no longer held back with your chest out and back no longer purposely arched to attract anyone, you allowed yourself to slouch.

Fuck it. You thought. Guess it’s just another date night with my magic wand.

Sourly, you left the large room to retrieve your dress coat from the coat check counter, pulling out your phone to order your Uber once you gave the desk man your ticket.

In your hunt for a ride and the slight tipsiness of alcohol still in your system, you failed to notice the presence of someone behind you.

“Excuse me, Miss.“ You jumped, knees slightly buckling in the process, and turned to find a slightly familiar man dressed in a finely-tailored Armani suit standing behind you.

“Jesus.” You mumbled before speaking up. “You scared me.”

“I apologize for the intrusion.” He laughed, sending an unexpected rush of flutters through your chest and straight to your lower belly. “I just couldn’t help myself in worrying if you were going to get home safe.”

You studied him for a moment, trying to remember who he was. His undercut, despite being a more unpopular haircut around the office, exhumed modern professionalism. A few of his black hairs that were gelled back had fallen over his forehead after several hours of holding its form throughout the night. Milky brown eyes and a narrow nose sat upon his lightly tanned but beautifully contoured face with a dark pink set of lips to grace his regal-like look.

You couldn’t help the sense of familiarity as you gazed at him. Instead of addressing his statement, you blurted out your thoughts, curiosity getting the best of you.

“I’m sorry, but… do I know you? You look so familiar to me.” He was about to respond when the desk man came back to the front with your coat in hand. Before you could reach out to grab it from him, your mystery man was taking it from his grasp.

“I’m Jung Hoseok.” He smiled, holding your coat out for you to place your arm in. So he’s a Jung, huh? Maybe he’s related to the chairman. Would be a nice snag for the night.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Hoseok. I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” You held your hand out to shake his once you successfully slid both arms into the coat. With a smoothness uncanny to any man’s hands you’ve ever felt, he took your fingers in his grasp and leaned down to touch his lips to your knuckles.

“Believe me, Ms. Y/N.” His eyes lifted to meet yours as the warm surface of his lips met your skin followed by the warm teasing exhale of his breath. You suppressed a whimper from growing in your throat. “The pleasure is all mine.”

He stood straight abruptly, shocking you out of your stupor. “So is Uber your way of getting home tonight?”

“Ah, yes. I’ve had a few drinks and I was planning on it, so I didn’t drive here.” You replied to him, hoping he would fall for the action and jump in. He nodded his head in understanding whilst you falsely resumed the task of securing a ride from a few moments ago. Please ask to take me home. Please don’t be nonchalant.

“Are you returning home alone?” Hook, line and sinker.

“Yes, I am. I do have a cat to welcome me though, so no need to worry.” You joked, hoping to push him along and give him the hint that you were very single and very available at the moment.

Deciding that your conversation should be taken outside and away from the prying eyes of your associates, you made your way out the door and into the crisp night as you spoke. The small flurries of snow began lightly pelleting your face, catching on your eyelashes. Hoseok followed close behind you, intent on listening to what you had to say.

You came to a stop on the sidewalk and faced him, shivering slightly.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to interrupt your homecoming with your cat. I’m sure he misses you dearly.” He smiled smugly, his breath forming visibly in front of him. Wow. So he’s an intellectual. He knows the game.

Fine. I’ll play.

“The homecoming won’t be too glorious. He doesn’t even greet me at the door.” You faked a pout.

Hoseok took a step closer, eliminating some of the distance between the two of you and effectively removing acquaintanceship from the air between you as he spoke. His previous polite behavior wavered slightly, transitioning your small talk “Oh? Is that so? Why?”

“I’m pretty sure he hates me even though I feed him and give him a roof over his head every day.” You chuckled with an air of breathlessness. “He’s a brat.”

“And are you?” He took another step and circled his arm around you to place his hand on your lower back, chest lightly brushing against yours. He was radiating an incredible amount of heat through the layers of his suit. You almost missed the random question with the way your vaginal floor tightened in anticipation.

“A-am I what?” You stuttered, looking up into his eyes and quickly crumbling. You hoped that he would catch you past the heady sensation of lust that crowded your veins.

“A brat.” He graveled, lifting his hand to pinch your chin between his thumb and index finger. You gasped and couldn’t help bringing your lower lip between your teeth as you were rendered silent, biting down in an attempt to use the pain as a distraction from the pooling of desire in your belly and panties. Good god, he just went right in.

Hoseok’s thumb brushed over your trapped lip, dragging it out and pinning it below his nail before he leaned in. His lips, inches from yours, held your attention and his eyes, locked on your own lips, grew dark with arousal. You thought he was going to kiss you but, instead, he only tutted and answered his own question for you. “So you are.”

The taste of his breath on your tongue was sinful with the tangible scent of his scotch overpowering the aftertaste of your whiskey and champagne. His cologne surrounded you, turning your body into a live wire as your olfactory senses were ambushed with his masculine musk.

“I’m going to need an actual answer when I ask you this, little one.” He whispered, lips mere millimeters from brushing yours. All you could do was gulp and nod in suspense of his question- but he wasn’t having it. He squeezed your chin sternly. “Verbalize.”

“O-okay.” You croaked through the lump in your throat. Hoseok smiled and released your chin from his grip, sliding his hand to your cheek to caress it instead.

“Good enough… for now.” He drew his own lip between his teeth as he slightly pulled away to scan your body in his grasp. His eyes locked on yours again, the closeness of his face scrambling your thoughts completely.

“May I be the one to take you home tonight, Ms. Y/N?” He asked genuinely.

With almost no hesitation, your desperation rose to the surface once more. “Yes. Yes, you may.”

It took mere seconds for Hoseok to back away and wave his hand in the air before a black SUV pulled up in front of the two of you. Grabbing onto your hand, he tugged you towards the vehicle.

“Mine or yours?” You asked as he opened the door for you to slide yourself across the leather seats to settle towards the far window. Following suit and settling behind the passenger seat, he spoke.

“Hm… Are you alright with coming to mine?” He asked, crowding himself on you as he shut the door behind him. His closeness was suffocating- in a good way. The way you felt the heat from his face on yours reminded you of just how close the two of you were about to get.

“I’m alright with anything, Hoseok.” You breathed, eyelashes fluttering in pure bliss. Your panties were clinging to your heat uncomfortably, begging to be removed.

“Be careful of what you say, darling. I might get a little excited.” He laughed lowly. Turning to his driver, he quickly ordered him to take him home. For a brief moment, you wondered what his place looked like and where it was.

Hoseok’s beauty was uncanny; even in the dark, you marveled at his features as the shadows of the street lights passed over them. His hands were constantly attached to you yet no kiss had been shared, causing your nerves to run rampant with tension and excitement.

After a short fifteen-minute ride, the vehicle pulled up in front of large gates and you gazed in wonder at the house that stood behind them. Situated up a small hill past a large courtyard with a giant fountain in the middle was a mansion. The mansion, from what you could see in the night, was dark brown in color due to the bricks it was built by. The fountain lit the front of it in a soft multicolored glow as it transitioned between colors.

“Wow.” You breathed, eyes locked on it as the gate opened and you were dropped off at the front steps into the cold of the night.

“Gorgeous, isn’t it?” He asked from behind you, his body heat immediately returning to your cold form.

“Absolutely.” You turned to him as you whispered, noticing the snowflakes gathering in his hair. Even as your bones chattered from how little your dress and coat properly covered your body, you still felt the heat of want flooding your veins and warming your blood deliciously. Looking into his eyes felt like the call of the wild, the sun, and anything and everything that could cause the bout of excitement and pure joy in your heart.

You just hoped he was able to make you cum tonight. At this point, with his beauty and smooth game, getting you to cum was just a plus.

“Y/N.” He muttered, taking a step to you while pushing you against the large front door to his manor.

“Yes?” You answered nervously, heart racing in your chest. Could he hear it?

“May I open my door?” He chuckled. You quickly looked behind you and realized that you were blocking the slot for his key, quickly moving to the side and rushing an apology with a blush on your cheeks. Looking at the ground, you waited until he opened the door behind you to look back up.

He was pulling you by the waist into his foyer before you could fully look at him again. “C’mere.”

Shutting the door behind you, he pressed you against the wall and pressed a kiss to your lips unexpectedly. Finally. Oh, good god he tastes so good.

His lips moved tentatively at first, smoothly molding yours to his will and pressing against your body with his. Hoseok placed his hands on your hips, sliding them delicately up your sides to your shoulders and under your coat, sliding it off with ease. He was pulling away before you could fully kiss him back, your lips chasing after his in dislike of the loss of contact.

“I’m sorry,” He heaved. “I couldn’t control myself for a moment.”

“No, Hoseok,” You whispered, sliding your hand to the back of his neck and bringing his face back to yours. “It’s okay. I want you to.” He pulled you tightly to his body with a hissed breath between his teeth.

“What? What do you want me to do, Y/N?” He picked you up by the backs of your thighs and you squealed in surprise. Automatically, you locked your ankles around him, cocktail dress making it easy to spread your legs. Hoseok continued to speak before you could reply, carrying you up the stairs as you stared intently at him. “Do you want me to nail your pussy into the bed? Do you want me to rail you until you lose your voice? Do you want me to spank you until you get welts? What? What do you want me to do?”

Wow.

Again, he made you speechless. The way his change of pace had victoriously shut you the fuck up for the second time was shocking.

Hoseok shoving you against the wall next to a door and grinding his hips into your own pulled you from the silence-rendering shock.

“Fucking speak, Y/N. What do you want?” He said sharply.

“I want it all- all of it. Please.” You were quick to reply as his domineering tone sunk into the pores of your skin whilst you whimpered from the friction. He only smiled and took one hand out from under your leg to open the door.

“As you wish, little one.” He smirked. Swiftly, he brought you into the dark room. How he found his way to the bed, you were unsure, for even a person living in a room for years has a difficult time finding their way under such circumstances- and he was carrying you. Regardless of your wonder, you still felt the cool sheets of his bed below you as he threw you onto it with a grunt.

You laid there in the dark, confusion following when he did not follow you.

“What are you doing?” You asked, eyes attempting to adjust themselves. Hoseok chuckled, the sound ensuring you that he did not move from his spot in front of you.

“I must undress first before I can fuck you.” He laughed lowly. You blushed again, realizing that the removal of clothes was definitely a necessity. You moved to strip off your dress when he abruptly stopped you. “No. Don’t. I will undress you.”

You laid back in wait, listening to the ruffling of his clothes as you heard the articles hit the ground one by one. The sound of his belt unbuckling reawakened the jitters in your limbs, excitement reappearing in the form of more of your juices in your panties.

A deep ache sat itself on your clit, pulsing away with your heartbeat in an almost painful sensation. Trembling, you reached a hand down to relieve some of the pressure that built up over the past hour, emitting a quiet sigh from your lips once you lightly cupped your heat.

Briefly, you felt the mattress dip in front of you before his body covered yours. Tearing your hand away from your pulsing heat quickly, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders to allow him to slot himself onto your body. The warm, smooth skin of his arms underneath yours felt heavenly yet extremely intimate.

“What do you think you’re doing, little one?” He muttered onto the exposed skin of your neck, grinding himself into you and eliciting a mewl from your throat. He cracked a hand down on the side of your thigh, the hot lick of pain doing wonders to your clenched core.

“I’m sorry,” You whined as he slowly rocked against you again. “It was just hurting so bad.”

“Don’t touch yourself.” He said, pulling away to glide his hands over your calves and thighs. “That’s my job.”

In the darkness, you were beginning to make out Hoseok’s figure; a dark and foreboding form that covered your own- and he was moving downward.

“I was watching you all night.” He pressed his nose to the skin of your inner thigh, inhaling deeply. “And I just can’t find it in myself to believe that someone let you go to that thing alone.”

It was hard to think with Hoseok so close to where you needed him, but it didn’t stop the words from slipping past your lips. “Well, you obviously came alone too. How did someone let you go alone?”

Hoseok chuckled in response, tracing his nose up to your hamstrings before moving further, passing your hip bone to trail over your underwear.

“I have a very particular taste in women and you happen to be the one I was looking for.” You froze for a moment as you felt his teeth on your skin, goosebumps littering your skin again. “You smell so damn good.”

He passed his nose and mouth over your abdomen before you felt his mouth latch onto your panties and bring them down. Your heart rate picked up once more.

“Hoseok.” You breathed, watching his figure as he pulled your underwear to your knees before grabbing them with his hands and sliding them the rest of the way off.

“Y/N.” He whispered in response. “I’m going to ruin you.”

Hoseok slid his hands back up your legs, sliding under your dress and grabbing it to pull it off you.

Once your dress hit the floor, you expected him to go for your heals, but all he did was sit back and stare.

“Y/N, before we start, I must insist that you choose your safeword.” His large hand made itself present on your naked waist, gripping it lightly.

Shock filled your veins and caused a mild sense of panic within you. “S-safeword?” You stuttered. He was one of those people? Fuck. I’ve never done anything like that before.

“I assure you that I will not bring you harm and that we won’t do anything like that… yet.” You quivered under the word. “Things like that require a contract so that I have your explicit consent. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do.”

“That’s…” You trailed off. “Actually amazing.”

“What, that there’s a contract?” He asked, scooping his arms under you to pick up your body and move you to the headboard.

“No, that you’re actually asking.” You replied, staring at the contours of his body that was now punctuated by the small amount of moonlight streaming in through his window.

“I can promise you that I never do anything like that without asking.” His voice, volume a mere breath, feathered deliciously over the skin of your chest as he looked down at you. “It’s why I am asking you to tell me what you want me to do. I don’t want to become a danger to you.”

You raised your handle to cradle his cheek, wondering how in the world someone who looked like this could be a danger to you, however, you knew that there were much more dangerous games to play than the one you had played with him earlier.

Hoseok leaned into your touch as you spoke with a newfound sense of confidence in his words, an unfamiliar sense of reassurance filling you. “My safeword will be consent, then. And Hoseok? Ask me what I want and I will answer you.”

“Y/N.” He hovered over you to ghost his lips over yours. “What do you want me to do?”

You moved your hand from his cheek to tangle in his hair. “I want you to touch me.”

“Thank god.” Hoseok delivered a soft smack straight to your heat as he smothered you with his lips, the quick contact forcing a whimper to burst from you into his mouth. He was quick to smooth it with a caress of his fingers straight to your clit, shock subsiding into pleasure.

At this point, you’re drenched. Constantly flexing your walls around nothing had created an accumulation of your wetness between the lips of your pussy. Hoseok groaned when he began spreading it around your bundle of nerves.

“May I eat you out? Please?” He pulled his lips from yours and pressed his thumb to you, softly rubbing circles. Your thighs spasmed every so often.

“Yes, Hoseok, yes.” You wobbled. His lips and eyes, now visible, pulled into a grin as he lowered himself down your body.

Without warning, he pressed his face into you, tongue out and lips agape. Immediately, you brought your hands to his hair with a low, breathy groan building in your chest. He started with zero hesitation.

Hands holding you by your thighs, he licked once, then twice, and then shoved his tongue past your folds to slightly enter you. You couldn’t help the groan as it escaped you, tossing your head back and widening your legs for him. He removed one of his hands from your leg, realizing he didn’t need to do much to keep you pliant, and used it to spread your lips further apart.

Blissed out and not paying attention, you didn’t feel his eyes on you as he surveyed your body, growing dangerously hard as he watched you slowly rock yourself into him. Your breasts swayed just slightly with the movement and his hungry eyes struggled to capture your entire body all at once. Experimentally, he slid a finger into your heat, loving how one of your hands that was tangled in his hair yanked back to tangle into your own.

He dropped his tongue back to your clit as he watched your body, a beautiful instrument that he was playing to produce the most beautiful sounds he ever heard.

You were in complete bliss. Hoseok laved his tongue over you in rhythm with his finger as he began pumping you. You couldn’t think straight anymore. The texture of his tongue was slightly rougher than the fragile skin of your folds, sending you into a quivering mess as you felt it attack you with fervor.

It wasn’t long before you were approaching your first orgasm that Hoseok added a second finger, the feel of the stretch paired with his tongue truly exquisite. You were losing your mind if your wails of pleasure were any sign of that.

The knot that began forming in your lower belly had begun to pull your legs closed as it was pulled tighter with each stroke of Hoseok’s tongue and fingers.

“Hoseok-“ You moaned past your labored breaths, gasping aloud. “I think I’m-“

“Then cum on my face, little one. Give it to me.” He moaned with you, pumping his fingers into you with the pads dipping against that specific spongy spot within you.

To say your orgasm was glorious was a heavy understatement. Your legs clapped against the sides of his head, trapping his face against you as he pulled his fingers out, tongue pushing past your folds into your pussy to welcome the juices that rushed out of your tremoring walls. His lips sloppily locked with you as if in a heated french kiss, driving you to a babbling mess whilst you let your climax riddle your body into a trembling heap. Breathless and high with ecstasy, you felt the strokes of his tongue lick you up and assist your spasms of sensitivity.

“Fuck.” You croaked, staring up at the ceiling which you then noticed was graced with a large chandelier, the crystals twinkling in the moonlit room like stars. Hoseok moved over you again, obstructing your view with his face that glistened with your release.

“Y/N,” He whispered, voice almost straining. “What else do you want me to do?”

You took a moment to look down, noticing his considerable, weeping erection mere inches from touching your skin with a pearly bead of cum at the tip glinting at you teasingly. Your mouth watered despite your post-orgasm stupor. He’s fucking huge.

Your response was almost automatic and robotic as you lifted your eyes back to his.

“I want you to fuck me. Now.”

Hoseok was quick to kiss you again, groaning with relief while he lowered his body to yours. The sheen of sweat that covered your skin caused his to slightly stick to yours. The weight of his cock on your stomach and the taste of yourself on his lips only made you press your shaking body up to his in anticipation, locking your ankles around his back.

“Y/N,” He muttered in between his kisses. “You may call me Hobi if you’d like. My full name is a little difficult to scream coherently.”

“Hobi?” You tested the name on your tongue, distracted, before smiling at him. “I like it.”

“Very good. Use it as much as you’d like.” He smirked, reaching for his cock to rub it into your pussy lips, spreading them slightly so that it massaged your clit and folds. The halted groan that Hoseok choked down proved that the feel of you on his dick affected him just as much as the feel of his dick affected you. “You’re wet as fuck.”

“Only for you.” You moaned, widening your legs to allow him more room. You held your breath as he gripped himself and positioned.

Slowly, Hoseok entered you. You were wet and prepared enough that the stretch of his girth was only mildly uncomfortable- not painful. The hiss drawn in between his clenched and bared teeth made you bristle with pride as you were able to make him feel good.

You watched the way your bodies slid together, inch by magnificent inch. The sight overpowered any previous exhaustion you felt from the first orgasm. You became completely hyperaware from the way he had seemed to reach the end of you, stuffing you full, with a bit more of him still unsheathed. Dammit. You want to fit him all.

“Shit.” He spluttered and hiccuped, causing you to realize that he was holding his breath. “You’re tight.”

Gathering your legs up into his arms, he began fucking you just as you wished.

He began his pace brutally, hips snapping into yours with abandon and stunning precision. Despite wanting to watch him, your eyes couldn’t focus, constantly fighting the urge to roll to the back of your head. Your mouth dropped open in a silent scream as he leaned over and spread you wide.

“H-Hobi.” You sobbed. The sounds of your pussy slurping on Hoseok’s dick was ungodly, yet you couldn’t help but love the sound of him invading your depths with your body greedily taking him in.

You felt his cock deep within you as if he was pushing into your lungs with each surge of his body into yours. Could you breathe? You quickly determined that yes, you could breathe, because of the loud sounds that you made that were a mix of gasps and screams.

Sweat began dribbling down Hoseok’s forehead, gelled hair now damp and falling over his face into his eyes with a look of determined ecstasy plastered across his features. His eyes, accompanied by his drawn up eyebrows, focused in concentration on where your bodies met before scaling up the expanse of your bodies, locking on your breasts bouncing with the hammering force. Hoseok brought his hand down to rub circles into your clit so that he could watch you squirm even more.

Still sensitive from your first orgasm, the second came to you much quicker. With Hoseok grunting over you, his dick railing into your heat like a jackhammer, and the feel of just him, you were coming undone quickly. Grasping onto his neck with one hand and using the other to dig your nails into his back, you began caving in on yourself, unable to leave any muscle relaxed whilst your climax approached. Your legs tensed, heels digging into the globes of his ass to bring him on top of you.

“You really want my cum, don’t you?” He chuckled darkly, to which you only managed to nod and release a quick mhm. Hoseok’s growl in your ear only brought you closer. “I’m going to pump you full of my kids, little one. Just be patient.”

But being patient was impossible with the way he was in your guts and the fact that he had slowed his rhythm in exchange for more depth. Stroke after punishing stroke, you could feel his tip battering your cervix, the slight pain making for a dizzying sensation as it mixed with the onslaught of his thumb on your swollen nub. The concern that he could possibly get you pregnant was only an after thought as you were on the pill, but you had to admit that thinking about taking Hoseok’s seed straight into your womb was a sinfully pleasing idea.

He was much too deep; too far into the pits of your stomach for you to fathom how you had never been fucked this thoroughly before. You were going to fucking die. You were going to be killed if you didn’t stop it now. There was no way you wouldn’t come back begging for more if you didn’t stop now. He would own you because you would be obsessed- but he would want nothing to do with you come morning.

You desperately tried to escape him, legs digging into the mattress to push yourself away in order to gain some sense of mind, but you only crowded yourself further into the headboard with Hoseok following you, wrapped around you, on you, in you- everywhere. Hoseok delivered a solid smack straight to the underside of your ass, the ‘clap’ resonating through the room and mixing with the slurping sounds of your body eagerly pulling him in.

“Don’t you run from me, baby. Take it like a big girl.” He smiled devilishly whilst wrapping a hand around your neck, forcing your gaze to meet his. You sobbed loudly, clawing at his back in a fruitless attempt to detach him from your body. Hopelessly, you tried to press your hand to his stomach in an effort to push him away.

His grip tightened slightly on the sides of your neck, effectively leaving your airway unbothered yet the blood flow to your head stinted. “Move-” He thrust into you roughly, triggering a cry from your lips through the lightheaded feeling of being mildly strangled. “Your fucking hand.”

What was the damned safeword? Your thoughts were jumbled as you tried to remember it, yet you found yourself wondering why you were trying to remember when he wasn’t hurting you in the slightest. The ache in your cervix was an unholy and iniquitous sensation that you found yourself literally drooling out the side of your mouth for. You were fucking addicted to it.

“Hobi!” You cried, tears welling up in your eyes as you called for him. You couldn’t wait any longer. You were about to cum and nothing could stop it. “Hobi!”

“Cum on my dick, Y/N. That’s it. Swallow me up.” He muttered softly, aggression in his tone completely gone as he softened his hold on you in order to focus on ravishing your heat.

You brought him in one last time, body seizing and clawing for him as if you wanted to completely absorb him into yourself, before your orgasm exploded on you in the form of your juices rushing from your snatch around his girth. Mere moments after, before your orgasm was done climaxing, Hoseok came with a curse, pressing himself entirely inside you to spill his cum onto your abused cervix.

In the decrescendo of your orgasm, you found your mind and body unreservedly satisfied.

This man, Jung Hoseok, was a god- in the purest human form. Your entire world was shaken as he panted over you, sweat dripping down both of your bodies. It was no use trying to reason any other way that he had ruined you for any other man on the planet. You had gone through such a dry spell only to be welcomed back by him? You were going to be one spoiled brat if you ever hoped to bed another man again; you knew that, even as a one-night stand, there was no other like him.

With a sore, pulsing body and a slowly calming heart, you watched him as he removed himself from the bed. “Hold onto yourself for a second, will you?” He asked, bringing your hand down to stop his cum from leaking out of your depths. The touch of your fingers on your heat warranted a gasp of oversensitivity, causing him to smirk at you while he got up. He seemed to smile to himself as he mused, “Maybe next time.”

You watched him as he approached a set of doors in the dark, contemplating his words. Next time? My god, yes, please.

Reaching for a towel, you got a divine view of him from the back, perfectly muscular, and plump in the right areas. He looked as if he was sculpted by the Greeks themselves.

You tried to speak but your voice cracked into silence, making you clear your throat to try again. “There’s a next time?”

He turned around quickly with the dark towel in hand, stalking towards you. “If you desire one, that is.”

“Oh! I do very much…” You trailed off as you realized how fast you were to respond to his statement. You grew quiet in embarrassment. “… desire a… next time.” All Hoseok did was grin down at you, eyes flickering to your hold on your core. He was quick to help you clean his essence from your body while he chuckled.

“I guess I made a good impression on you?” He laughed lightly as you laid there, vulnerable and spread out before him in the glow of his aftercare.

“You could say that…” You blushed, turning to look out the window into the night, grateful that it was too dark for him to see the embarrassing flush.

“I hope I satisfied your needs, Y/N. Please tell me if I didn’t.” Hoseok turned serious, lightly placing his fingers on your arm in a feather-light caress so that you would look at him.

“No! No.” You were quick to jump in and assure him. “You were… amazing. The best I’ve ever had, in fact.”

“Really?” He asked whilst tossing the soiled towel to the floor. “And why do you say that?”

You shrunk under his gaze as he laid back in the bed with you, circling his arms around you to roll the two of you over to the side that wasn’t wet with your cum in the sheets. He wasn’t going to kick you out? No. Don’t jump to conclusions. He’s probably just trying to be nice. “Let’s just say that my past escapades were a little less than satisfactory.”

Hoseok sat with his elbow propping him up so that he could look down at you.

“Y/N,” His eyes turned concerned. “When was the last time you had a proper orgasm?”

Stupidly, you replied almost monotonously. “Uh… a few nights ago with my vibra-“

“No. No.” He chuckled, cutting you off. “I meant when was the last time someone else gave you a proper orgasm?”

“Oh, god.” You laughed. You raised your hands to cover your face. “Probably about… ten months ago? Give or take.”

“That explains the brattiness earlier.” He snickered. You only looked at him in confusion.

He looked back at you, waiting for you to understand, but you were only drawing a blank. Hoseok looked down and grimaced in disdain, shaking his head slightly. With his free hand, he placed it on the side of your neck, thumb brushing your cheek delicately. “You haven’t been taken care of, little one. Would you like me to properly take care of you?”

Hoseok began to lightly trace patterns with his thumb while his eyes searched yours for an answer. Gulping, you nodded and breathed the word ‘yes.’ Are we about to go again?

“Good.” He said lowly, ghosting his lips over yours. Oh fuck, we’re going again. Your heartbeat skipped back into the race, accelerating in speed.

As quickly as he leaned into you, he pulled away and stood up. “We’ll start by getting something to eat because I’m hungry as fuck and I didn’t see you eat anything at the ball. What’re we feeling, McDonald’s?”

And good lord. If you weren’t addicted and stupidly in love then, you were now.

~#~

If you’d like to read more of my work, feel free to check out my Series Masterlist! If you’d like to read my first fic, check out the DHYB Masterlist!

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desertno3 · 3 years

Text

Violet – Chapter Two (3/7)

When Sean finally meets his daughter, you wonder why you ever left him in the first place.

Sean Wallace x fem!reader Chapter Two: 1787 words

Prologue // Chapter One

A/N: Welp, sorry I said this would be up soon and then immediately went and took like two weeks to finalise it. Anyway, here’s the Sean and Violet interaction we’ve all been waiting for! Let me know what you think!

Taglist: @ysmmsy @prettyinpayne @the-a-word-2214 Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist for this series!

“Can you help me colour this in, mum?”

You have to repress a tired sigh at your daughter’s request.

“Sorry, Vi, I can’t right now,” You tell her, scrolling through real estate listings on your phone. You’d been looking ever since the incident because there was no way in hell you were going to go back to your old place after what happened. “Maybe later, yeah?”

You hear her huff and when you look up, she’s already walking out of the room, crayons and colouring book in hand - no doubt on the hunt for someone else to ask.

You shouldn’t have been surprised at the way Violet had made herself right at home in the Wallace household, quickly warming up to everyone even though she’d just met them. It was just the kind of child she was. If she could, she would go right up to total strangers and talk to them but you’d made sure to nip that habit in the bud early, sitting her down and telling her why it was dangerous to do so. She was the most gregarious and self-assured little girl you’d ever known - and you were sure her Wallace genes played a strong part in making that happen.

Sean groans in frustration, leaning against the kitchen counter as he does so. Elliot had just called to say that the latest lead Sean had him following went nowhere and now Sean was wracking his brain to figure out who else could have been behind the intrusion of your home.

The intruder in question had been of no help, naturally. Sean had done what he could to pry information out of him but the man said nothing - and Sean wasn’t sure if it was out of loyalty or because he’d lost so much blood he couldn’t think straight. In the end, Sean didn’t even have to finish him off because the gunshot you’d inflicted did the job well enough. He decided he wouldn’t tell you that, though. You were shaken enough as it was.

“Are you okay?”

Sean’s jolted out of his thoughts by the little voice and when he looks up, Violet’s hoisting herself up onto one of the stools on the other side of the counter. She then looks at him expectantly, waiting for his answer to her question.

“I am,” Sean replies, still watching her curiously.

Besides the brief introduction where you’d told Violet he was your friend, he hadn’t yet properly interacted with her. For one, he had been too preoccupied with trying to track certain people down but the other reason was that he didn’t know how you would react to it if he did. You’d clearly been avoiding bringing up the topic of Violet’s parentage and he’d let you avoid it - for now.

“Will you colour in with me?” She asks, taking him out of his reverie yet again. “My mum’s busy.”

Sean blinks at her, processing the request. He wonders if he should say no - after all, he has so much to do - but she looks so hopeful that he doesn’t want to. When he eventually caves and says yes, he’s taken aback by the fondness he feels at the way she beams and hops off the stool, coming over to him to take his hand and lead him to the living room where she’d already had her colouring book all set up.

You’re more than surprised when you come downstairs half an hour later and see the two of them sitting at the coffee table, colouring in together.

“What colour do you think should go here?” Sean asks her, pointing to a blank spot on the page.

“Green! No, wait!” Violet’s expression scrunches up as she surveys all the colours in front of them. “Yeah, green.”

You watch as Sean chuckles, complying with her wishes as he reaches for the green crayon. He starts colouring in the area while Violet happily observes, the section she was working on long forgotten as she peers intently at the way Sean was doing it.

You feel a slight pang in your heart as you watch them, knowing you had kept them from having moments like this. It’s a fleeting feeling, however, because Violet looks up and spots you.

“Mummy!”

“Hi, love,” You greet her, walking over to press a kiss to the crown of her head. “I see you’ve wrangled Sean into colouring with you.”

“We’re colouring in this page right now,” Violet says excitedly, showing it to you. “But we also did the one with the horses. You know, the one me and you didn’t get to finish?”

She flips through the book and shows you the page in question.

“That’s great, darling,” You tell her, fondly smoothing her hair down. “Now, why don’t you go outside and play for a bit, hm? Let Sean get back to his work.”

She nods, taking the crayon from him and putting them all back in the box.

“Thanks for colouring with me, Sean,” She smiles before turning and scampering off excitedly to the backyard.

“Don’t forget your hat!” You call out to her but she’d already disappeared around the corner, leaving a silence to settle between you and Sean in the living room.

“She’s a chatty one,” He comments, breaking the silence as he gets up off the floor. “Would fit right in with my dad’s side of the family.”

You just hum in acknowledgement, avoiding his knowing gaze. You’d always thought the same thing but you didn’t want to tell him that, not yet wanting to confirm or deny anything to do with Violet being a Wallace even though there really was no point in doing so - you knew Sean knew, even if you hadn’t yet spoken about it.

“Y/n,” He says, waiting until you actually looked at him. “Did you know you were pregnant when you broke up with me?”

There it was.

You’d spent the last few days waiting for him to bring it up - surprised he even let it stay unaddressed for this long - and yet you find yourself still completely unprepared to have this conversation.

You shake your head. “I only found out about a month after.”

Not that it matters. What matters was that you could have told him at any point during your pregnancy or at any point after Violet was born, but you never did. You scan Sean’s face desperately, hating that you can’t read him as well as you used to be able to.

“I’m sorry, Sean,” You say and you think you’ve never meant an apology more in your life. “I thought it would be safer to keep her away. Even after I found out I… I didn’t think coming back to you pregnant was a good idea.”

“Still, I deserved to know about her, y/n. She deserves to know about me.”

You drop your gaze, ashamed. “I know. God, I know, okay? But I was scared.”

You know that doesn’t excuse anything but you had to be honest. He had to at least know why you did what you did at the time.

“Scared of what? Me?”

“Of the people you were working with!” You clarify. “I was scared that if they knew about her they might-”

“They would never even get close,” He cuts you off, his tone developing a menacing edge to it at the mere thought of anyone laying a hand on Violet. “I wouldn’t have fucking let them.”

There's a heavy silence in the air and you watch him sigh in frustration, trying to work through his temper. Your own heart hammers against your chest at finally being forced to face the consequences of your decisions.

“I would’ve kept you both safe,” He eventually says, his voice slightly calmer. “If you had just let me, I would’ve done it.”

“I know,” You admit quietly, remorsefully. “I know you would have. But at the time... Sean, your way of keeping us safe wasn’t my way of keeping us safe. You know that."

He purses his lips, remembering all the times in the past you two would argue because he would always get himself into more violent situations than you thought was necessary. The way you saw it, he was unnecessarily digging his own grave with every altercation he found himself in whereas he’d grown up being taught that violence was a necessary measure to keep certain people at bay, to remind them who was in charge, and to prevent them from threatening the people he cared about - namely you, at the time.

“I could never get my head around why you would go through all that trouble, Sean. But I get it now.”

His eyes bore into yours, his brow furrowing slightly as he takes in what you just said.

“What changed?”

You open your mouth to reply when you jump at the sound of banging at the window. Both of you look to see Violet on the other side of it holding up a football, clearly wanting you to play outside with her. You give her a nod, holding up a finger to let her know you’ll be out in a minute.

“I had her,” You answer as you both watch Violet grin and run down to the other side of the backyard. “I’d literally do anything to keep her safe, anything just to make sure she’s okay.”

Sean looks out the window for a long time, to the point where you think he’s still stewing in his anger, but then he lets out a little amused-sounding huff.

“What?” You ask, slightly confused.

“Now you know why I used to get into all those fights for you.”

Your expression softens at that but he doesn't see it. He's deliberately not looking at you, immediately feeling like he’s made himself a bit too vulnerable after saying that. He glances at Violet, kicking the ball around all on her lonesome, and it reminds him of the reason you’d returned to his life in the first place.

“I have to make some calls,” He says, shifting back into business mode. “I have to find another lead.”

“I really am sorry, Sean,” You tell him, ignoring his change of topic. You needed to make sure he knew that.

He looks at you and sighs. “I know. And I get why you did it. As much as I fucking hate it, y/n… I do understand.”

It’s more than you could have ever asked from him. You nod and one last look of acknowledgement passes between you two before he disappears to his office and you head out to be with Violet, feeling lighter than you have felt in a while now that everything was finally out in the open.

#man he looks good in that gif #sean wallace x reader #sean wallace imagine #gangs of london fanfiction #*writing #violet series #gangs of london imagines #sean wallace

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dropsofletters · 3 years

Text

cursed your name [lty]

—summary: lee taeyong has wanted one thing for the past two years: to be the worldwide light featherweight champion. his up-and-rising career is on its highest point to this day, one step away from being one of the youngest winners of the title, watched and studied by the world with intent. little does he know that success is a lonesome road, filled with envy and betrayal.

owning a casino is already difficult on its own. fights, bets, cards, money, the stench of alcohol following around every step…she knows this is not how her life should’ve turned out to be, but after being passed down her best friend’s casino, the jungle, she does everything in her power to keep the business alive. the dream, even.

the dream of a casino dies down when taeyong makes his way through those doors one night, but another dream starts…and she has to wake up.

—title: cursed your name —pairing: lee taeyong x reader —genre: boxer!au ; casino owner!au ; crime!au ; strangers to one-night stands to enemies to friends to lovers!au (yes, that’s a thing) —type: angst ; fluff ; suggestive ; drama ; humor ; slowburn —word count: 28,354 —warnings: mentions of death, guns and blood. acts of betrayal on page. none of these actions are morally correct and are only plastered on paper for the sake of storytelling. characters are fabricated in every way. there’s a mystery, kind of, so you can solve that as well.

Lighter off. Lighter on. It says enough about a person when the only source of light of their night comes from igniting a cigarette.

The long stick rests between her fingers, pushing one leg over the other when leaning back against the muddy backdoor of the casino. Her casino. It’s hard to believe that the twinkling lights, bustling people, workers dancing on tables all belong to her now. So, they say, people have to lose it all in order to have one glimpse of success.

Even themselves.

She pushes the black beanie on her head a little bit further down her forehead, puffing out the smoke from her lips before tapping the cigarette a few times. The ashes fall on the floor beside her, near her boots, but she can’t bring herself to care. For once, she wants peace. And maybe, silence comes with the faint background music behind her, and the cars passing by in an alleyway that could probably get her killed if she stood there for too long.

The fact that the casino is in a rich neighborhood doesn’t mean it’s a good one.

Her fingers almost become numb thanks to the coldness, but for once, she can breathe. Perched, tranquil, mixing the vapor of her mouth and the smoke of her cigarette in just one breath. Turns out that casinos are filled with cocky, overconfident people who lose it all and win it all over again. If people ask for the manager in normal establishments, they ask for her when they decide to bet everything and their wife in just one game.

People decide how to destroy their lives, and she’s just the one giving a ceiling to the conclusion of their proper economical lifestyle.

The backdoor swings open, hitting her directly on the back. She can’t even begin to form a sentence about privacy when she’s met by the sight of her right hand. The only man she has ever trusted, one of her closest friends, Tori. If there is loyalty in people, it’s shown in him. Mussy brown hair parted in the middle, a set of somewhat interesting features welcoming her. Wide forehead, somewhat downturned and bored eyes, paired up with his slim, rouge lips and his short, straight nose.

For being in his thirties, he looks good.

“What do you think you’re doing out here?” Tori is always behind her. Checking. Nosing around where he shouldn’t be. Sure, he does it out of worry, can’t let his fingers slip around her hold to keep her in place and make sure that everything runs smoothly. After all, he’s an investor in this place, but a breather wouldn’t go wrong.

She takes a puff from her cigarette, hiding her hands in the pockets of her black, elongated coat. Mixing in the shadows is for the better when running a business like this one. “Running away for a bit. What else would I be doing?”

Tori opens the door wider, his gray suit perfectly fitted around his buff body. The lights of the casino swirl behind him, a worried look on his features. “I don’t know. One of these days, I fear you may actually run away.”

Scoffing, she rolls her eyes. “As if I could.”

“She wouldn’t have wanted you to.”

At the mention of the ghost between them, she presses her lips together, unhooking the rounded sunglasses that rest on the collar of her shirt. “I know.” The memory of her still bleeds deep within her. The woman who took her in. The one that did everything for her, even lure her into a world of betting and losing. She never lost after having her in her life, and that’s as much as she could have ever hoped for. “Need me for anything important, Tori?”

She’s already halfway through the door, her baggy dress pants rubbing against each other as she moves away from the bar at the corner, followed by Tori right behind her. “A—Actually,” He catches up with her, a little bit breathless when he takes the cigarette from between her fingers. “I wanted to have a talk with you.”

Before he could take a drag of her cigarette, she snatches it away from his fingers, stopping on her tracks. “One would think that if you’re driving a Lambo around town, you wouldn’t have to steal my cigs.”

Tori smiles, all crooked teeth and faux innocent ways, looking down at her from his tall, almost enormous height. “Yours are a better brand.”

Truth be told, she has tried the cheapest of brands. Had to at the beginning of her career. Right now, she feels powerful enough to have the thing that will kill her on the long run be, at least, exquisite in shape and style. “And they are mine for a reason.” She tilts her head to the side, pointing at the other end of the casino. “Let’s meet at at my office to see what’s that important thing you need to talk to me about.”

“You’ve got it, boss.”

She will never get used to the title, because one year ago, she wasn’t the boss at all. She was just another worker at The Jungle, perhaps a very conceited one, hanging around the boss a little too often—her truest friend, if she’s honest. Serving drinks, drifting her eyes away from the people she knew were too important to be seen there. Those were the fun times, but then, the owner was gone. Disappeared. Leaving the casino under her watch on a last breath.

Allegra was not meant to be gone this early in her life. In her forties, she was aiming to be the biggest, most well-known casino, and she was on the way there. She took people in, from the streets and from raunchy places, turned them into polished versions of themselves and basked on their loyalty. She was one of them, and some of the other workers were, too. Though, a robbery in her office later and a few stabs to the chest, Allegra was gone.

Left like a kiss on the wind.

Though, the casino was just as outstanding. Conceptualized to be capturing, both in aesthetics and in entertainment. Compared to other casinos, bathed in the typical golden and red, The Jungle was specialized in darker colors and better security. Instead of having women in poles, they danced from cloths on the ceiling, as if they were branches, surrounded by green and brown walls, woodened tables and ignited lights putting in the typicality of a casino. It was a well-thought-out concept, that’s for sure.

The heavy woodened doors of her office are opened once her fingers push down the code to enter. Her office, once Allegra’s, glimmers for its intensity. Dulled forest green walls, glimpses of white, and the most carefully thought-out hiding spots.

It’s a nice business. It doesn’t mean it’s a safe one.

“So, Tori—” Though, she hears someone else waltzing inside, saying their hushed greetings to Tori just as she turns off her cigarette, hitting it against the wood of her desk. “Anything important I should know about?”

Giving someone your back means that they’re one second away from killing you. Out of everyone in The Jungle, Tori is the only one who was rich from the crib. An investor for a reason, and Allegra’s lover for some years before they decided they were better off as business partners. She trusts him, but maybe, it’s second-nature to be wary.

The singer of the casino, Junghoon, stands by his side, a hat over his long, straight black hair, sharp features and bone-structure almost hidden. He’s way smaller than Tori, with an air of arrogance that falls on borderline silly.

“We’ve found him.” Tori whispers, his smile dissipating when he takes a seat in front of her, extending his long legs forward.

“Who’s him?” She asks.

“The man who killed Allegra. We found him.”

One thing she couldn’t defend about Allegra is that she was a little bit too trusty. She could see a man that she was interested in, and it was as though all judgement left her brain. A night on someone’s sheets and with a man between her thighs and she was done for. Intelligence nowhere to be found.

It was clear it would be the cause of her death, but she has to expand her hands on the armrests of her office seat to be able to stand her weight, sitting down as the memories come flashing down. The blood on her hands. The ache of her chest. She lost her sister, though not blood-related, to whatever this man did.

A sharp breath leaves her lips, memories flooding back when she closes her eyes tightly. “H—How do you know?”

Tori is pensive for a few seconds, fixing the black tie around his neck before sighing. “I’ve been looking for a year, boss. You know how close I was to her. How much I loved her…” Tori may have never gotten over Allegra, but it’s very rare to see glimpses of him that aren’t bathed in his business-like judgement. “I talked and talked around until I found him. Well, a group. Of course, the crime couldn’t have been committed by just one person.”

The police had turned their backs on this. Unaware not, but not caring enough about raunchy people of society to be able to help them. Some of their team were good, others not so much, but justice needed to be made regardless.

“A group?”

“They’re well-known. Not for killers, but they are wealthy enough to frequent The Jungle.” Tori spits out, swirling his hand around the air as he explains. “A boxer slept with Allegra the night before her death. Lee Taeyong, I’m sure that’s his name. He’s a newbie with a small group of trainers, publicists, all of the life on his team. Around eight men.”

People of all categories frequent The Jungle, and boxers aren’t the exception, but she’s certain she has heard this name before. Though, she can’t quite put a face on it. “Tori, you can’t be making assumptions out of what people tell you. It could be someone trying to get to him, for all you know—”

He breathes out her name, different from his usual connotations of ‘boss’, and she knows he’s serious when he does so. “…I have a backbone for this. You just have to trust me.”

Silence engulfs them, sparing one glance towards Junghoon, patiently waiting by the door, just as she lets her fingers roam over the stacks of papers over her desk. “And what do you intend to do, Tori?”

This time, he seems to be happy about her choice of words. His face contorts in the sweetest of smiles, but she knows he’s anything but. “…I’m glad you asked, boss. I have it all planned.” The man interlocks his hands together, leaning his weight forward the slightest. “Taeyong will come to The Jungle tomorrow. You know the killer stole money from Allegra, lots of it, and that he stabbed her to death. So, I decided to give him some taste of his medicine.”

Allegra may have been like a sister to her, but there are a hundred steps from that to murder. “Tori, I won’t kill a man. Jesus, what kind of person do you take me for?”

“I know you’re not that kind of person…” He trails, voice deep when he looks down at his hands before his brown eyes connect with hers. “But I am. I’m just asking you to take the money away from him. All his cards. Leave him spotless, and then, I’ll take care of him.”

Gruesome images appear right behind her eyelids. Blood is definitely something she can’t stand, much more knowing she is one of the causes behind it. “I don’t want to.” She stands her ground, crossing one leg over the other and pushing her sunglasses away from her face. “Shit, Tori. This is hard stuff. I don’t want to have someone’s body on me, much more if they’re important.”

Tori scoffs. “He has enough enemies; they’re not going to know it was us.”

“I don’t want to, I said.”

“Listen, I don’t know if we’re on the same page here, but Allegra was practically sliced in half by her killer. She couldn’t even utter words properly when she died, innocently, just because she slept with someone and you decide not to take revenge?” Those words reverberate around her ears, resonating in awful ways, reminding her of that one night where they both found Allegra dead—

God, could it really have been a boxer?

“You have no idea if it’s him—” She argues, the voice of reason in this case.

“Explain the punches. Explain the hook-up. Explain the timing. If I’m not right, then why does everything fit?”

Her lips fall shut, rubbing her face with her palms, burning with the coldness of her fingertips when her index and middle fingertips press to her eyelids. Tori is not half-wrong. Allegra suffered, unattended by the hospital, given no sense of justice…but if this person is a boxer, they must be well-known.

“What do you have in mind?” She questions, but just as Tori smirks, she shakes her head. “Don’t think I’m supporting you, Tori. I just want to know.”

“I’ll be the one killing him. I need to do it. For me. For her.” His words are filled with purpose, eyes darkening. “But I need someone to keep him in a room. I will book a room in a hotel, and you’ll seduce him. I’m not saying that you’ll sleep with him, but it’s even better. I just need you to take his money and leave the room. I’ll enter them.”

“Holy fucking shit.” She whispers to herself, giving a glance towards Junghoon, much too quiet in his position. “I—I don’t think I can be part of it. I can’t stop you, but I’m not a seducer. Why me when there are a handful of great-looking, powerful strippers that could do the trick even better than I do?”

“He’s very collected and controlled by his team. After all, sleeping with strippers and prostitutes would not be nicely seen for an athlete.”

She chuckles at that, standing up from her position to move over to the door. “Okay. Out of my office. I won’t do it—”

“Come on, boss.” This time around, Junghoon’s lightweight voice takes place around the office. “Tori wanted me to help you out. I have some knowledge about the ladies and a pretty little dress may finally get your panties out of its twist and make you loosen up.”

Those words make her raise her eyes. Junghoon is a complete asshole, but she’ll give him and his baritone ways some slack because the people frequenting the casino love him to bits. “And a pretty little turn of your legs out of my office may help you keep your job, asshole.”

Tori’s pristine shoes tap against the tiles as he moves over to her. “It’s them or us.” He says, pointing towards the door. “You don’t know when he will do it again. Women are always killed for the most horrendous of reasons, just for being free. It’s not a sin if you take a sinner away.”

She sighs. “I don’t care if it’s a sin. I’ll go to hell either way. I care that it’s a crime, Tori, and I won’t go to prison.”

“That won’t happen.” He promises, grasping both hands in between his. “I just need your help, that’s all. If anyone will go to prison, which won’t happen, it will be me.” His eyes connect with hers, filled with certainty and honesty. “Please—”

Allegra’s face pops back behind her eyelids. Despair. Loss. Pain. All her life taken away because of what one man decided to do. She opens her eyes then, humming in return.

“I’ll help you.”

###

“Come on, another jab. To the jaw, Taeyong, go higher—”

The plan never was to be a boxer. The plan, indeed, would have been to take over his grandmother’s bakery, stuff his face with chocolate at least once a week, and let time pass with professionalism. Destiny would come to him one day, with some money in his pocket, bring the love of his life over, have a family, own a dog, then have a child and it would continue on until the day of his death. He’d bake for his family, for the neighborhood, too, and never lay a hand on anyone.

His arm extends, boxing gloves rubbing against his bony hands as his eyes concentrate on the target. Sweat accumulates on his hairline, his bleached blonde hair tied on a ponytail behind his back, toned stomach uncovered, loose shorts wrapped around his slim hips as he moves his legs back and forth, keeping some distance before coming for the hit.

Now, he can say he’s skilled, but when he was discovered, it was such chance as luck. Grandma liked for him to take a casket of buns and pastries each afternoon after school to sell them. It helped the business, and he could give out some business cards in the process to help expand. It was the easiest task a fourteen-year-old boy could have. Get on a bus, sell some pastries, go around the neighborhood and come around with clients, orders and money.

It was when someone older, a young man around eighteen or nineteen years old, had tried to steal from him that his eyes had flared with anger. One of the most fulfilling afternoons monetarily almost slipped away from his grasp, had it not been for the piling rage that left him two options. Lose the money that his grandmother desperately needed or man up and fight for it. His fists were uncontrollable, such force coming from self-defense, with a few people having to pull them away in the streets. His eyes blurred with tears at the time, knuckles bathed in blood—from his own body, actually, all he did was break the man’s nose and those who tended his wounds are now part of his team.

Thirty-two wins. Zero loses. Zero ties. Ten knock-outs. Knock-outs are the worse; there is something inherently fearful about having someone drop to the ground thanks to his punches that he lands. It gives more money than the bakery ever would, and his family doesn’t have to work half as harshly as they used to thanks to his success. Well-earned, but not easy at all.

He spent years practicing. Only two years ago did he actually get to debut in the big leagues. With cameras around him, interviews, surprised by how this underground boxer in his teens suddenly became someone of importance. Travelling around the world in order to earn his name.

And now is the time to become light featherweight champion.

Another punch has one of his staff stumbling back, just at the same time that the bell rings. It’s then that he moves to the corner of the gym, inspecting the walls covered in posters of the biggest boxing champions, gulping on water to be able to wash down his tiredness.

From behind him, two people emerge. One shorter, buffer, face filled with wrinkles as he speaks to Taeyong. His trainer, to be exact. The other, much younger, parts his black hair in the middle, always wearing dark clothes and holding an agenda up to his chest. His publicist, if anything.

Soonhwan, his trainer, fixes the ponytail behind his head as he speaks. “Listen, Bruce Lee, start getting confident in your punches or Eiji will knock you on your ass on the first round.” Eiji is the current champion, prepared for eight years, quickened in his movements and filled with endless cockiness. “He’s been talking real talk to the media and we need to shut him up, Taeyong.”

Dongyoung is the one in charge with the media, completely stressed out as he puts his agenda to the side and looks down at his tablet. “He’s spoken?” Taeyong asks, licking his lips after finishing off half of the bottle. Finally, Dongyoung looks up, pushing his bangs away from his forehead.

“Too much, I’d say. I’d put a fist in his mouth if I didn’t know he could break me in half if he wanted to.” Dongyoung speaks out, pointing the tablet towards Taeyong’s face. The article is too long for him to read all at once, but Dongyoung simplifies it for him. “He’s said you opened your butterfly wings and he’s ready to take you down. Something about you just being a lucky guy in the right place at the right time, but no substantial talent behind you and just bullshit over bullshit.” Dongyoung pulls the tablet away before scoffing. “We’ll keep quiet, but the guy is testing me…”

His eyes soften, pushing his lips together when he looks at Dongyoung. “He really said all that?”

Soonhwan lays his hands on his shoulders, moving him from side to side. “You need to toughen up, boy. Eiji is made of steel, both physically and mentally, and I don’t want his words to get to you.”

No matter how many times he physically fights, Taeyong will never get used to it. Call it presumption or something of the like of guilt, but landing punches and raising his fists after doesn’t bring him utmost happiness. Stability? Of course. It pays the bills. Does the trick. It’s what he has prepared for the past handful of years.

“I’ll be fine.” Taeyong leans his head back, bones cracking in the process, staring up at the ceiling. “Just need a breather. And a meal. Haven’t eaten since the morning.”

Dongyoung doesn’t know how to express his concern at most times, writing something down on his agenda as he speaks. “You haven’t been eating your proteins, Taeyong.”

“I’ll have all the steak you give me right about now.”

“How about this, my boys?” Soonhwan doesn’t have children of his own, and by being the oldest of the staff, with a boxing career that has lived to be legendary but not ever-lasting, he has found the two youngest to be like his children. One of his arms ends up around Taeyong’s shoulders, the other engulfing Dongyoung closer to him as he speaks. “I know a pretty good casino at the center of the city. The Jungle. It has pretty women, nice tables, excellent drinks and food. They serve the best sauces I’ve ever tasted in my whole entire life.”

Truth be told, it’s been a while since he has found himself relaxed. Taeyong is about to shake his head when Dongyoung nods from his spot. “I could have a few drinks.”

“But I can’t.” Taeyong conquers. “The fight is in a month.”

Dongyoung shrugs then, a smirk taking over his features. “I’ll drink for you, then.”

“Asshole.”

“Hey, you were the one that became a boxer. Not me.”

“Boys, boys, boys, calm down.” Soonhwan interrupts between the two. “We’ll just have fun. Play some poker. Call it a night early. It’s needed. We’ve been preparing for this fight for months.”

Truth be told, it doesn’t sound so bad. His staff, himself, and a nice bowl of whatever meat he could find, dipped in sauce, up to his lips, as he splays whatever cards are in poker on a table. Perhaps, if he’s lucky, he’ll get some money. If he’s not, he’ll lose some. Not too much, but enough.

A smile pushes itself to his face, pulling away from Soonhwan as he nods. “Okay, okay, we’ll go out.”

“That’s my boy!” He exclaims, patting his hand across his back. “Now finish him. We’re going out tonight.”

###

Drops of sunshine fall on her dress. If this can be considered a dress on her, really. Definitely not her style, the lace on the high collar makes her look polished, molding into her body like a golden second skin. This definitely comes from the closet of someone much more open to being, well, open. One turn to the side on her dancers’ mirror lets her see a glimpse of her ribcage and the side of her chest thanks the opened back and if she doesn’t walk short steps, her dress would definitely ride up her thighs.

Junghoon wasn’t the one to dress her up, and if she doesn’t know if she’s thankful for that. Jinhee, however, had taken it upon herself t turn her otherwise mysterious boss into one of the bombshells seen around The Jungle. Wig put in place, heels making her wobble in place, and the tint of her lips shining brightly under the harsh lights.

Jinhee spots a red wig of her own, her robe falling open when she crosses one leg over the other, half-dressed and ready for her show. “Atta boss. You look sexy.” The word makes her cringe, turning around to see Jinhee’s rounded eyes settled on her.

“Don’t say that word.” She punctuates, shaking her head in the process. “I feel like a clown.”

“Because you’re not used to it. Think we don’t feel like that from time to time? It’s the empowerment from your head that will make you feel like a badass.” Jinhee stands in front of her, straightening her back. “Now, boss, shoulders back, chest up, ass moving, that’s the first set of things to care about when getting someone’s attention,” Tori could have easily picked Jinhee for the work, but no, it had to be her. “But the eyes are the ones that are going to get you out of trouble. Most men don’t think when they see a gorgeous woman with an innocent gaze. They don’t know the difference between heaven and hell, and you’re about to show it to them. Use that to your advantage.”

“Jinhee, this is pointless.” Smacking her hands on each side of her thighs, she rolls her eyes. “I haven’t seduced a man in years.”

“It’s never too late to start.”

“He’s a boxer. Men like him get everyone they want.”

“So?” Jinhee asks, crossing her arms across her chest. “Make sure that who he wants is you. Prettiness is all over the world, but it’s the core of a person that make them stand out.”

She turns around, hands splaying on the vanity as she sees the informative picture Tori had given her. Taeyong has his gloved hands lifted in the air, curling his slim yet toned arms after a victory. His hair was red at the time, but she was informed he had dyed it to blonde, tied behind his head as a smile spreads across his handsome features. His eyes don’t have the look most people in his world have, filled with anger and pride. Somehow, he seems awestruck, like he can’t quite believe he is there.

The past few hours, she has been killing her mind with thoughts. All that can run through her head is the happiness of his smile, the people cheering for him in that picture, and the revenge that has overcome Tori’s senses. It doesn’t feel right. Seducing him isn’t what she would have imagined for the night, but it’s what Tori wants…

It’s what Allegra deserves for what he, supposedly, did to her.

“Jinhee, give me a minute.” She takes the photo in between her hands, folding it in place before sighing. “I have to get something in my office.”

“Okay, but be careful with those heels. The dress is Versace, the shoes are Valentino’s—”

“Nothing will happen to the heels. Don’t worry.”

Her steps are steady when getting out into The Jungle. As far as she knows, Taeyong is nowhere in sight as she moves towards her office, pushing down the code to have the doors opening.

The problem is…she can’t kill him. Steal what he had stolen from Allegra? Maybe, but she can’t help Tori kill the man when she is not certain if his sources are correct. Tori hangs around some people that she doesn’t entirely trust. Bad to the core. They could be lying because of any hatred they could hold against Taeyong.

And sure, she could be wrong. Taeyong may have been the culprit of Allegra’s death, but she’d rather die knowing that she saved a life than live with the thought of murdering someone innocent.

Opening the drawers, she sees the pistol Tori keeps there. It’s for safety measures, he says, but she never touches it. It belongs to him, used for his own protection, but she’d rather not have her fingerprints all over it. Taking it in between her hands and with some isopropyl alcohol by her side, she unloads it, making sure to take all the bullets there and place them inside her strongbox.

When she cleans the gun and puts it back in place, she sighs. He better not notice it.

With that, she scavenges into the casino once again, careful steps trying to look a little bit too confident. Not failing in the process, luckily.

###

“Shit.”

Through his yellow sunglasses, Taeyong manages to cover the glimpse of comedy that begs to seep through his voice. Dongyoung splays his money on the poker table as if it was his flag, crossing his arms over his chest like a kid without his toy. Truth be told, Taeyong is, also, awful at this game, but he doesn’t get petty when he has to give his money to the winner of the game.

The Jungle is somewhere new for him, but Dongyoung has been here before. An outcast, through and through, with the way he dressed himself in a silk beige suit from head to toe, bringing a smile up to his face.

“Dressed like a winner, living like a loser?”

The man in question digs his elbow on Taeyong’s ribcage, stealing a gasp away from him, combined with laughter. “Shut the fuck up. You’re not that good either.”

“I know.” Taeyong says, lifting his bottle of water up to his lips, maintaining his health even through a night with his team. His trainer is somewhere on another table, but he can’t bring himself to keep his gaze away from the game as they divide the cards in between the players. “But I accept it, Dongyoung. I suck at this game. You should, too—”

“I don’t suck at this game.” Dongyoung, always trying to the highest reach, lets the words cling between his teeth as he speaks. “I’m just out of practice.”

Shrugging, Taeyong lets him live his dream. “Whatever you say. Whatever you say…”

For one moment, he lets himself get involved in the movement of the cards, but instead, the clicking of heels captures his attention. It’s the consuming curiousness that overtakes him that makes his attention flee away. If anything, he should be used to it. There are strippers at The Jungle, and of course, they’re going to be using heels in the process, but once he leans back on his chair, his leather jacket rubbing against the fabric, he sees a pair of swinging hips he can’t take his eyes away from.

He has a thing for untainted presences, like an angel in between a sea of sinners. It’s better, after all, when having someone who knows their strength but doesn’t quite show it, to correlate with them, as well. Surprising, it is, and he knows it’s the case with her. Eyes gleaming in seriousness as she moves through the seas of people and though she’s a bit awkward with her heels and she doesn’t walk with as much confidence as she should when sporting a body like that, he’s staring.

He bites down on his lip, raising his eyebrow when he sees her move directly towards him. Dongyoung chuckles by his side, low and breathy, when he nudges his side. “You always get the good ones.”

Though, Taeyong breaks his gaze away from hers once she gives him a smile. In reality, his ears burn in bright red shades, concealed in the darkened stance of The Jungle. “What are you talking about?”

“She’s practically eating you with her eyes.” Dongyoung finalizes.

“Yeah, so?” Taeyong continues, conversation not over, even when he hears her move closer. That ‘tip-tap’ of her heels may become his newest favorite tempo. “I’m not looking for anything.”

“Well, she’s looking at you. Do with that what you will.” Taeyong knows the difference between wrong and right, but he can’t tell why his body practically paralyzes at the alluring scent by his side. When his face turns around, his cards underneath his fingers, now divided between the group, he sees her from up-close. Delicious lips, mascara-coated eyelashes framing her eyes perfectly, windows to a soul short from enigmatic. It’s fucking hypnotizing.

“Saw you lose from over there.” Her fingers point towards one of the tables, not too far away. Soonhwan was there, that’s all he knows. “You’re not too good at poker, aren’t you?”

“Not good with cards at all.” Taeyong confesses, licking his lips when he lifts up his cards and inspects them with a frown on his features. He wants to look prepared, but he has no idea what they mean. “I don’t know what they mean.”

“Oh,” She breathes out, leaning over his shoulder to look at the cards. “You’re fucked.”

The way she says those words has Taeyong leaning back against her touch. He has an idea what that could mean for him, and God, if he has to be fucked— “What? Why?”

Their voices are low, and her breath fans on his earlobe, lighting the little hairs on his nape on fire when she fiddles with the edge of the card. “A 2-7 offsuit. Worst hand at poker. Don’t go too high on your bets.” Her chin juts towards one of the men in front of him. “He’s as bad as you are, so don’t you worry.”

“Boss!” One of the men by the table speaks, tapping his cigarette-holder against his finger to let the ashes fall on his dark suit. The man is over his forties, and the whine on his tone is somewhat annoying. “What are you doing helping that little boy out?”

“I’m teaching him, Hino. He doesn’t know a thing.”

The man speaks through his crooked teeth. Better quit smoking now. “Then, he should’ve thought about that before ruining my game of poker.” His voice slurs, raided by nicotine, husky and raspy to the point he finds himself lost in some of the syllables he says.

Instead, she rests her arm on the backseat of his chair. “My place, my rules, my game. Sorry, Hino.”

He calls out what seems to be her name, and Taeyong turns his head around to look at her before this could escalate any further. “Don’t worry,” He replies, brown eyes inspecting her features. “I’ll get out of the game, if that is the case. I don’t want to bother anyone.”

Just as he stands up, splaying his already terrible hand at poker on the table, Hino wants to say something else. “He just ruined the game—”

“Calm down, Hino. He’s new to this.” Though, she follows after his steps, getting away from the seat and standing by his side. “Take a breather. I’ll pay whatever he owed in this game, and that’s it. Just…relax.”

What is it with this woman?

There is something so inherently seductive and attractive about her. Boss, that means that she has a position here…maybe, she owns the whole place.

Hino shuts his mouth, enough to have the woman smiling, but that sets him off. “You put on a dress and you change entirely.”

Taeyong can’t imagine her without a dress. Or, yeah, he can—but those legs are exquisite enough to worship for the rest of his life. “Happens.” Is the entire excuse she has, softly wrapping her arm around Taeyong’s arm when she says: “Want me to invite you a drink, player?”

For some reason, Taeyong is starting to believe she is the player here. Still, he loves it. “Sure, let’s go.”

###

“So, you own this place?”

Call it curiousness or his fidgety persona, but Taeyong’s fingertips trace the outline of his drink as he asks the big questions about her. One of her legs is crossed over the other, seated by his side on the bar counter, with sprinkles of the sugar in her drink scattered across her lip-gloss.

Now, Taeyong knows a lot about pretty women. They are everywhere, around him, talking to him, falling for the boxer he is. They never once stop and think that he is more than a few good punches. So far, she hasn’t spoken about that—about him. She asked questions, taught him the basics of poker, answered to his every word until silence overcame them.

She chuckles, nodding to his words. “I do.” Leaning on the backrest of the stool, she rolls her eyes slightly. “I run this place to the best of my abilities.”

Taeyong sips on his drink, unaware as to why he had never come here before. Soonhwan better wrap him up some more nights for going out. “I imagine you’re really good.”

“I manage.” She shrugs, turning to look at him with her chin resting on her palm. “It’s not that I’m particularly good at it, but hey…I make everyone believe I have everything together.” Her words are coated in the sincerest of manners, sighing deeply when she plops her hand on her drink, asking another one from the bartender who already knows what she wants. “…That’s what you want to do when you’re playing poker, Taeyong. Make everyone believe you have it together, even if you don’t.”

Just what the fuck is going on with him? He questions himself. One of the strippers dangles from the sky, dancing to her heart’s content, earning howls and whistles from men that definitely include people from his staff. Money rains from the sky and falls pathetically on the flooring, but his eyes are trained on hers, laughing along to her words.

Truth is—Taeyong sees beauty, but he never sees the beauty that urges him to get to know more about someone. If he is lucky, he gets a pretty model by his side, a singer that he dates for two months and then, the distance becomes unbearable. In most occasions, he is too busy to date. A kiss to a not-so-close friend to pass time. A smile at a socialite to spend the night. It has come down to this…to watching faces blend and personalities dissipate into nothing. They fade to black, irrelevant inside his brain.

“And how exactly do I do that?” Taeyong questions, turning around on the stool until his legs are prodding against the side of her thighs. She repeats his actions, slightly parting her legs to interlock it with his, and it takes all the will inside of him not to have his eyes linger on the uncovered skin.

Her finger touches his chin, softly, delicately—for someone who rules this place, she is as tranquil as it can get. Mysterious and mellow, Taeyong can’t quite put his finger around the paradigm of her. “It’s in the eyes, Yong.” The nickname has him raising his eyebrows, a smile splaying over his features. “You have pretty eyes. Use them to your favor.”

He leans forward then, licking his lips to bite down on his bottom one. “And how exactly do I do that?” Breaths mingle when he speaks, stench bathed in alcohol, and though he’s nowhere near tipsy, he’s hypnotized by her beauty. So unlike whatever he has seen in this world of money and fame.

“Look in my eyes.” Her fingers point at her own, and Taeyong nods. He doesn’t have to be asked twice. “What do you see?”

His eyes rake down her features after capturing her gaze for a few seconds. “That you’re gorgeous.”

Laughter bubbles from her at that moment, the changing lights of the casino casting over her face. The music has gotten louder, bass boosted, but even if his biggest celebrity crush had taken her clothes off right there and then, in The Jungle, he wouldn’t have looked away from her. “No, you have to think that you see yourself. Eyes are not windows to the soul. They are mirrors, Taeyong.” She explains, one hand splaying on top of his, rested on his thigh, when she leans forward to keep their eyes connected. One single movement and their lips would touch. “When you’re playing poker, or when you want to lie to someone, you only have to think that you’re looking at yourself. Like, when you’re practicing for a big speech and you practice in front of the mirror to see the motions and get a grasp of what you want to say.”

Taeyong hums, concentrating on his reflection in her pupils. Dilated. God, she’ll be the death of him. “And then?”

“Don’t smile.” Her hand reaches for his cheeks, pulling down the smile before sighing. “Twinkling eyes are okay; your eyes are just like that…but you have to be serious and conniving. Scheme, Taeyong. The body follows what your mind says.”

“Okay.” He pulls his lips down, earning laughter from her.

“You look like you’re sad.”

“I’m just trying not to laugh.”

Swatting her hand against his shoulder, softly, she speaks up: “I’ll take it.” Soon, she continues explaining. “After you are serious, with all your scheming ways going on, you look at the people around the table. Look for giveaways of what they are feeling.”

Taeyong shudders when her breath ghosts against his lips. Never has he wanted to kiss anyone with this fervor, as if running a fever just by her mere lack of touch. “I can tell something.”

“What do you mean?” His eyes trail down to her lips, desiring to lick the sugar off the skin.

“Your pupils got big.” He feels dumb saying it out loud, but he reconnects his gaze with hers. “Doesn’t that mean that you’re into me?”

Tilting her head to the side, the diamonds around her neck glisten. Money, that seems to match her smile. “I have eyes, Yong.” She answers. “…But you’re not too far behind, you know?”

A smile takes over his features once again. “Oh, I know what I want. You don’t have to worry about that.”

Rolling her tongue with each word, she spits out: “What or who?”

If he had to plead, he would. Never had he felt this immense connection with somebody—it has been a while, that’s for sure. It’s not complicated; a night with her and he’ll be off the hook, sedating his thirst for curiousness. His trainer once told him his ambition will be the death of him, but why not reach for the stars when he’s already in a plane? “You. Goddamn it, it’s you.”

“You want me?” She questions, resting her hands on his waist, only to have Taeyong wrapping his digits around her nape.

“Thought I made it clear.”

“I’m good at reading signs…” She trails. “But there’s nothing as good as speech, Yong.”

His mind is clouded and if she asked him to, right at that moment, he would give her everything he has ever gotten. “I want to kiss you.”

“And then?”

“Wherever you want to take it.” Taeyong instructs, playing with the small hairs on the back of her neck.

“I know a hotel we can go to, if that is what you’re implying.”

The forest walls engulf all rational thoughts away from him, as if his soul was sucked out of his body and exchanged for a man starved. Taeyong leans forward, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss, though slow, meticulous, wanting to taste every portion of her soul. She parts her lips soon enough, a small groan captured in the back of her throat when she trails to the edge of her seat and curves her back to mold into him.

No one has ever fit him better.

Maybe, Taeyong should have thought with a clearer head, should have not told Dongyoung he’d be going to a hotel with someone on the way out of the casino, should have not gotten in a that damned SUV Soonhwan insisted on having a chauffeur using to drive him around, as he scattered kisses down her neck, learning to trail after her sighs and noises. But he did, and he did it with glee, needing a fucking second of relaxation and away from the boxing world.

And when he looks into her eyes, he doesn’t see himself, but he sees a reflection…

Desire.

###

Somehow, it feels as though Taeyong adores everything around his world. He thanks the sun for coming up in the morning, loves the stars that scatter across the sky when the night falls down, and of course, the way he looks at her, as if she is a goddess taken straight out from his fantasies. And she isn’t.

God, she is not one bit of it.

Getting distracted by him is easy, legs splayed underneath her weight, with his jacket and shirt disregarded somewhere in the hotel room, warm skin melding against hers when she presses her lips to his. Sympathizing with him is easy, much more when his fingers seem to know exactly where to press and trail after. He may look innocent, but he’s not one bit of it.

She gets lost in it, loves the way his eyes glimmer when she pulls away from him, playing with the straps of her dress and tugging them down the slightest, scattering kisses along her shoulders and the only thing she can hear is the voice inside her head. Sure, she has saved him—taken the bullets away from the gun that Tori was going to use against him, but there is always a possibility…

And shit, she has to steal from him.

She closes her eyes tightly, only opening them again when Taeyong softly searches for her lips, pecking them once before asking, in the softest of tones. “You don’t mind if I take off your dress, do you?”

Laughter comes naturally when around him, and though she is not herself in this dress, she can’t deny that Taeyong has won her interest over with just his speech. So polite, so tranquil, so interesting and caring in every way. She shrugs her shoulders then, spreading her fingers on his slim yet toned chest, before saying:

“I’m on your lap in some hotel, and I’m halfway through taking off your pants…isn’t that permission?”

“It’s not.” Taeyong says. “I will only do what you tell me to do, beautiful.”

She’s a piece of shit. She’ll go to hell for this, but she’ll have a good time before everything falls down.

Now she knows the exact reason why Allegra had spent the night with him before dying.

A whine lingers on the back of her throat, nodding. “Take it off, Yong.”

###

For her, life was chaos. Clashing of memories that come down to conclusions she is never too happy with. It’s running and never reaching the end-line, or having someone stick a leg out just to see her falling on the way there. It’s definitely not peacefulness, and not spending the last two hours just enjoying Taeyong’s embrace around her, unable to fall asleep knowing what she has to do.

The first strike was when she looked past her reflection in his eyes, that is what brought the guilt down on her. Then, it was the way he treated her—not as if she was made of paper, but as if he wanted her to enjoy herself as much as she could. To make it unforgettable and loving, even if it didn’t mean much. No one had ever taken the time with her, not even the people she dated in the past, let alone her lack of lovers in the past few years.

One of his arms is over his abdomen, the other softly wrapped around her shoulders. His hair is done a mess, all thanks to her, the strands falling over his closed eyes, lips half parted, nose letting out the softest of snores, barely audible. She smells like the bath they had taken together, and she hates it. Despises the fact that she doesn’t want to pull away from him when she lifts her gaze to look at him.

Lips reddened, soul tainted, and on the verge of being robbed, Taeyong doesn’t look like the type of man that killed Allegra…but Tori is so certain. Tori was there throughout her years with Allegra, and he had always treated her like a little sister. He wouldn’t lie to her, no matter how dangerous he could get.

Maybe, Taeyong was one of those dangerous, beautiful threats.

And as always, she can’t trust anyone.

She stands up then, careful not to awake him, when she tugs at the dress scattered on the flooring and her underwear, putting them on in the blink of an eye before grasping Taeyong’s pants and jacket in between her fingers, rummaging through his pockets until she finds his wallet. The clothing drapes on the floor once again, lurking through the leather of the wallet until she finds them.

Three black cards and a platinum card.

She leaves him the platinum card, taking the three black cards as payment for what he did to Allegra. He may not die, but he also won’t have a nice time after this.

So, what is stopping her when she is by the door, looking over her shoulder to see Taeyong splayed in the dark, an arm still extended as if waiting for her to linger on his side. She feels like shit, but it’s what she has to do. She felt even worse when Allegra died, and that was her only friend dying right in her office. The office she frequents every single day, on top of that.

Sucking in a breath, she opens the door, cancelling all thoughts of staying there and getting to know him. Taeyong is not a good person, that’s for sure. If the only person she has left to trust tells her he is the bad guy, it’s because he is. But why is it so hard to believe?

She saved his life. The least she can do is get his money, right?

Her head is thumping by the time she gets out of the door, three black cards richer with her heart in her sleeve. Life was never meant to be easy.

###

Fingers frozen after mixing drinks endlessly, her back rested against the harsh walls of her new workplace, The Jungle. Her head lulled to the side, trying to keep herself awake after her workhours, wishing for the sun to rise so she wouldn’t have an excuse to fall asleep, but it was four in the morning. Forever was more of what those two hours left felt like.

Truth was, it was all her fault. She would not have to sleep near the back door of this expensive casino had she not trusted people too easily. Her boyfriend, fuck, she had loved that man to bits—promised him the world and back. Daniel swore back and forth that they were going to have a future together, that they would get out of their little neighborhood and reach for the sky.

As it turned out, just as they had moved in together, he reached for her bank account and took all the money she had left. The money she had earned with hard work, while he scratched his balls around the apartment. The one she lost two months after, and the one she couldn’t afford to get back.

Well, she was on the way there. She had only worked here for a week, and if she ignored the cold, sleeping on the backdoor was not so bad. Daniel could go live a somewhat good lifestyle, but she would get up again one day. She just had to wait for her first paycheck and stay in a motel—

The door opened then, almost knocking her over, but awakening her successfully. She moved to the side, aware of how dangerous it was to be out in the open like this—then again, what other option did she have? It was either this or sleeping in a box on the streets.

Much to her distaste, it was the boss. Allegra, with the vibrato in her voice and the relaxation in her features. Her lips were plush, face enigmatic, hair too short to be grasped. She always wore the tallest heels she had seen, dressed to perfection from head to toe, ready to bite the night and make it her own.

“Oh, darling,” Allegra said, fingers pointing at the corner of the casino’s back-place. As it turned out, she saw a little glimmering light there, making her frown deeply. Shit, that was a camera. “When I was checking around for robbers, I didn’t expect to see my newest bartender sleeping on the streets.”

“I—I’m so sorry, miss.” She spoke, voice youthful, lowering her head to look at her dirtied hands. Shit, the dust on the concrete must have stained her skin. “It won’t happen again…”

“Why?”

She lifted her head then, looking at Allegra. “Why what?”

“Why do you sleep here?”

Embarrassment bathed over her features, heat taking over them when she looked into the woman’s eyes. Successful, and perhaps on the way to kicking her out of there. “…I have nowhere else to go. I got kicked out of my apartment.”

With that, Allegra’s features softened even more, if that was even possible. She kneeled in front of her, extending her hand to wave it in front of her, as if trying to catch her. “Then, you’re coming with me.”

She gasped, choking a bit on her saliva. “Excuse me?”

“I’m not letting someone live in the streets, much less if it’s a woman we’re talking about.” Allegra moved her hand, as if to catch her attention any further, but she clung onto herself. This was too much of an issue.

“You don’t have to, miss—”

“Allegra.” She corrected, quirking one of her eyebrows. “And I want to.” With that, her fingers extended towards her, waving them to calling her over.

“I don’t want to be a bother—”

This was what the world taught her. She never could ask her family for help, for they were the first ones to tell her not to get involved with Daniel, her high school love, the man that was supposed to make her feel like they were at the top of the world, but only managed to bring her down. She would never forgive him for taking away everything she ever had, that was for sure.

Allegra sighed, giving lessons without knowing, like she always did. “It is not a bad thing to trust people, darling. I know you’re scared now, but the magic of life comes from trusting people and letting yourself feel. There are enemies everywhere, but out of all badness, there will be a glimmer of good.”

The moment she wrapped her fingers around Allegra’s hand was when their friendship started, and what a shame, it was, that her singular advice—to trust people just to find the good ones in between the bad—was the solemn thing that got her killed.

###

Taeyong awakens to constant clicking, a string of curse words in a manly voice, and in an empty bed.

Brown eyes open to see an unknown man standing next to his bed. He’s at gunpoint, with a pistol directly pointed at his face that he manages to run away from. The blankets cover his naked body when he stands up from the bed, a scream leaving his lips when he studies the expression of the man in front of him. Much to his confusion, however, the killer continuously pulls the trigger only to come up with a clicking noise. No bullets coming out, definitely not a bang against his head because he would have died already…

“What the fuck?!” Taeyong asks, heart picking up in a rhythm he can’t control. The killer has mussy hair and a suit, perched to be a man of wealth, but he doesn’t recognize him one bit. Even so, he knows his intentions. “W—Who are you and how did you get inside?”

The man in question lets the gun fall to the side of his body, extending his palms on each side of his head in surrender, well-lifted with his elbows crooked. “Easy…easy…”

“I asked you some questions. Give them an answer because you definitely don’t want to see me angry.” Now that the gun is down, Taeyong is ready to defend himself if necessary. He wraps the white blanket fully around his hips, trying to—at least—keep himself cladded in this situation. “Who are you?”

The killer calls out her name. The woman he had slept with last night comes in full view at that moment, void of her presence in this room. His heart thumps mercilessly against his chest, burning his ears, rubbing at his lungs and distinguishing his breathing. Taeyong can’t control herself.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He’s done playing the good guy, stepping towards his clothing and putting them on now that he knows there is not a loaded gun pressed to him. His back is not turned towards this man, however.

The coward keeps his hands up in the air, frowning at his words. “Ah, she was the one that hired me.” Those words don’t settle well in his stomach. He was one step away from death just because of the person he connected with just mere hours ago? His stomach churns at the idea. “Check your wallet and you’ll see that she stole from you. She does that to everyone, man. It’s what she does. How did you think she got that casino going?”

The rapidness of the man’s voice speaks of fear, enough to have Taeyong lifting his butt after putting on his pants to rummage through his wallet. The leather rubs against his fingertips, and he stops for a second. There is no way in hell that she had hired someone to kill him. She could have done so herself, if that is what she wanted. Besides, she didn’t seem like the type—

He opens the wallet. Three of his cards are missing, only his platinum one left.

He had been lied to. Scammed. Robbed. Almost killed, had it not been for the lack of bullets.

“P—Please, don’t call the police.” The hitman—and Taeyong is guessing he is that—says with his hands up in the air, moving towards the door. “I’ll tell you where she is, really. Exactly where you can find her right now and you can take the police there but please…please…don’t…”

The pathetic tone in his voice has Taeyong erasing all thoughts of anger, but he exchanges it for betrayal. He bites the inside of his cheek, putting on his shirt as he speaks to the man. “Get out of my face before I smack some sense into you. You just tried to kill me and expect me to forgive you?”

“She was the one who did it. I—I…I couldn’t bring myself to do it.” The man is much older than him, but the way his eyes glisten, like a kicked animal, makes him lose all trust he did not even have on him.

But what does he know? He was the one who trusted a complete stranger last night and almost got robbed and killed.

He pushes his wallet inside his pocket, speaking lowly. “Where is she?”

“In her office at The Jungle. I can tell you the code if you want.”

Taeyong scoffs. “No, you will tell me the code. I need to get her in jail.” He can’t believe that their connection had completely subsided to this. Even worse, that he trusted someone so easily and now, he was on the verge of dying.

Why would she want to kill him for, either way? Fame, success, money? She already had that!

Bad people roam through the air like mosquitoes, that’s for sure.

“One-two-seven-zero-five.” The killer spits out, only to have Taeyong nodding.

“Okay. Anything else I should know?”

“Don’t tell her you saw me.” He says, and Taeyong rolls his eyes, moving towards the door with purpose.

She better start thinking about having fun behind bars, because he is not going to get played with that way. His heart aches, eyes battling tears of betrayal after just trusting someone. Well, there is a reason as to why Soonhwan told him not to trust one-night stands, but he would have never expected this to happen to him.

He needs to make justice out of this, that’s all he knows.

###

Peace. Quiet. Loneliness. The Jungle is empty, void of any costumers, strippers or bartenders. Everyone is off to their houses, just like peace has left her long ago.

It’s been hours, goddamn it, hours since she had left Taeyong in that hotel room, and her mind couldn’t stop whirling like a ceiling fan. All she can think about is the fact that at seven in the morning, exact, Tori would go to his room, try to shoot him, and find the pistol void of bullets. If she’s lucky, he would not have one of his own. She’s almost certain that he hasn’t, because this is Tori she is talking about. He relies on her like a child on their mother.

But still, she can’t bring herself to feel any less guilty. Besides, the pieces didn’t quite match. Taeyong had said last night, in between their introductions and it could very well be a lie, that it was his first time there. Truth was, it felt honest. He would have stepped back had he managed to have a thing with Allegra, much more after Hino outed the most important factor about her personality—that she was, indeed, the boss in The Jungle.

Any normal person with at least two fingers of forehead would have ran out of there. Sleeping with someone, who was possibly close friends with someone he apparently killed, is not the best route to take.

Tori wants her to believe Taeyong did it. Taeyong, who had been sweet, tranquil, nice enough to hold her hand after sex, clean her up if she will, treat her like a pillow princess after everything was over—

The cards glisten when she takes a seat on the center of the casino. All lights are turned off, the shadows making the black cards mock her. A thief, she would have never thought she’d become that.

Truth is…she knows what kind of people Tori and Allegra are. Or was, in Allegra’s case. That’s why Allegra opened her arms up to her—because she knew what it was like to end up in the streets. Both from wealthy families but with dirtied hands, they had done the impossible to withstand the titles behind their names. Their nicknames, even, she doesn’t think she has called them by their real names—ever. They had businesses to withhold, families to take care of, and contracts to keep.

Being good in this world is so rhetorical, even metaphorical. Rules are there, but sometimes, we dare judge them according to the people around us. Call her a dog biting her owner’s hand, but Allegra was at risk of getting killed. If someone like her, just some simplistic friend that ended up as the owner of a casino, has to keep enemies close in order to get things done, then she can’t imagine what it was like for Allegra.

It’s not justified…what they did to her, it will never stop hurting, but it makes sense. It’s what happens when people when involved with crime, even more if it’s with those who have enough power to erase all trails of their injustice.

The doors of the casino open, enough to have her standing up from the table. Shit, she had forgotten to close those. She was about to, but she had stayed talking to one of the strippers, losing time only to, casually, get lost in her own thoughts after. It should be one of the workers, forgetful of an object, but it’s nine in the morning and who he sees takes her off guard.

Wearing the same clothes as last night, Taeyong has never looked so different. All rays of sunshine in his smiles and his eyes are gone. Void of that, he frowns deeply, letting the heavy door close behind him when he runs his fingers through his blonde hair and spits out the ungodliest lie.

“You tried to kill me.”

In reality, she stole from him, like the poor little thief she never was. There is nothing better than revenge, she had once heard, but this is horrid. She knows, in this case, that she was the one that fucked everything up. Nothing about the puzzle Tori had created made sense.

She swallows thickly, extending her hand once he is in front of her, though far away to keep meters of distance. Different from how they were last night. It’s time to cut the bullshit. “Here are your cards.” She whispers, voice hoarse. “I didn’t intend on killing you. I was supposed to just steal from you—”

Taeyong scoffs, snatching the cards away from her with a tight grip, hand smacking against his side from the force. “I got lucky, you know? Something in destiny switched and the bullets in the pistol were not there, but I could have fucking died and just because you wanted to steal from me?” He spits out the words as if treating with a gold-digger. She doesn’t judge the player or the game, but she has never been like that. Dated an asshole in her life, decided not to do it again, not even for money.

Though, why would he think that? She obviously doesn’t need the money now.

She frowns, shaking her head. “I stole from you because of what I have heard about you, Taeyong.” It’s time to uncover the truth, for even in his haunt for reality, Taeyong had fallen far behind. “I have enough money to have black and platinum cards of my own. I’m not some prostitute.”

His brown eyes don’t show her image, she has stopped mirroring herself when looking at him. She sees pain. Clear as day. The kind of look that is given to a man when everything he believed in is suddenly changed. “But you are a murderer. You didn’t even have enough braveness to do it yourself—”

“Where exactly did you get all of this from?” She asks, teeth clattering against each other when she tries to connect the dots of what Taeyong envisions. “Taeyong, I stole from you, and sure, I knew someone was planning on killing you…I…I was supposed to take you there so you were murdered, but I didn’t have the heart—”

He widens his eyes, running his hands through his hair once again. “Shit, am I supposed to feel better about that?”

“I’m not a murderer! I wasn’t the one that had the idea. All I did was take the bullets out so no one would kill you, and I wouldn’t lose the trust of the only person I have left!” Taeyong must have gotten it all wrong, and she doesn’t know why her breathing picks up the way it does. She knows she’ll go to hell, maybe because she acknowledges things like this happen in her casino all the time, but it’s the price she has to pay for the life that was crafted for her.

What wouldn’t have she given to live a happy life with Daniel, perhaps get married on the long run, get a job that was proper and stay on the downlow until the day of her death?

But he robbed from her, and now she is in his position.

“What would have happened if he got some bullets from someone else? If he had noticed before—?”

“He wouldn’t have, Taeyong.”

“You don’t know that!” His voice raises, getting closer to her with fire radiating from within. For one second, he breathes in and out, trying to calm himself down until his voice lulls to a lonesome blues. “…He could have killed me and you would have to live with that.”

She shakes her head, pressing her lips together when she looks to the side. “Well, the man that tried to kill you was the one that schemed it all.” Now, she doesn’t know why she isn’t protecting Tori, but it’s the lies that obvious scatter behind this mess that makes her say the truth. For once, she wants to riot out the reality inside of her. “Stop pointing fingers because I am not a murderer or a robber. I did it because—”

“I should feel grateful, shouldn’t I?” Taeyong asks, voice low. “I have to get on my knees and thank you because you took some bullets out. What did I do to deserve being robbed and threatened, almost murdered for fuck’s sake—?”

“He said—”

“He said, he said, he said! What did you think out of all this?” Taeyong questions, more knowledgeable than she’ll ever be. “You are old enough to have judgement, to know between wrong and right, to make decisions for yourself and let me tell you, with the sincerest heart, that your decision was wrong.”

She closes her eyes tightly, breathing through her nose when the image of Allegra pops inside her head. She died in her arms, how was she supposed to feel? “I was just trusting the people that I knew, Taeyong. I—It was wrong, I can accept that. I’m not saying it wasn’t. I just thought it was revenge for something I got told.”

“It’s not an excuse.”

“I’m not trying to find excuses.” She says. “The man you met, Tori, told me you killed my friend, Allegra. She was stabbed in her office by a man she saw that night. They robbed her of everything she had on her, made her seem…poor and reckless. They practically ripped her in half.” Her stomach churns at the image, bringing one hand up her mouth to stop the sensation of vomiting. “I’m not asking for mercy,” She opens her eyes, looking at him, truth spat out. “Or forgiveness, Taeyong. I’ve had enough bullshit in my life to know I don’t deserve either…but she didn’t deserve what she got done, either. I lost the only person who was there for me when I was at my lowest, in the most horrid of ways, and all I wanted was justice.” Shrugging, she sighs. “What a shame that justice for people in my side of the world can’t be through the police. They would put her as some whore who deserved what she had for enjoying casual sex, and I won’t have anyone talking shit about her, you hear me?”

Taeyong remains silent for a few seconds, taking in everything she said before placing his cards inside his pocket. “I didn’t know whoever you are talking about. I, fuck, I would never kill someone.”

She huffs. “That makes two of us.”

“That man…Tori,” Taeyong speaks the name out, testing it in his tongue. “He said you were the one that hired him to kill me.”

Those words paralyze her. No. It can’t be. Tori had treated her as part of his family, there is no way in hell he would ever— “He has been investigating for years. He was the one that said you were the last man Allegra saw—”

“How many years ago?” Taeyong asks, and just as she’s about to open her lips, he says: “Not that I know any Allegra, and I may have one-night stands from time to time, but I know one thing…and that’s that I learn the names of the women I’m with. I have never slept or dated with a woman named Allegra.”

And it’s an odd probability that she actually used her real name with him. Her name was Allegra, as if her past never existed, and she knew the reason why she would never follow after her past, either. That’s why they connected as friends.

“Almost two years ago.”

“I was dating a model two years ago. Kind of public, if you ask me. You can find the pictures online.” Taeyong replies, as if it’s that fucking common to date a model. His arms cross over his chest, licking the inside of his cheek. “So…you didn’t try to kill me?”

“Tori was the one with the idea.” She replies, head filled with thoughts. “…And he was the one that told you I wanted to kill you?”

“Yes.”

Tori is up to something.

The man that she trusts the most has stabbed her in the back.

Just as she’s about to say something else, the sound of the door opening captures her attention. This time, the person opening it doesn’t take the time to not be audible. They barge in, showcasing their buff body, as a woman points a rifle directly at Taeyong’s head.

Something is so wrong about this.

Before she knows it, she lowers Taeyong to the ground, the gunshot ringing through their ear drums when his eyes widen.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, not again—”

“I need you to trust me, okay?” She speaks, rather quickly, standing up as she places Taeyong right in front of her, taking the unused gun in her coat out to aimlessly throw some bullets. Truth is, she doesn’t use a gun often, but Jinhee reassures that she needs to. If strippers need them, so does the owner of this entire place.

“Where do we—?”

Before he could continue speaking, she opens the door of the office, jotting down the code and closing the door behind her. “She shouldn’t get in. She doesn’t know the code—”

“Tori gave me the code.” Taeyong speaks too quickly, going over to the desk to hide underneath it. “If Tori is the one behind this, he probably gave her the code too.”

“Shit.” She curses, thanking Allegra for teaching her the way through the office and her lack of trust for keeping her lips sealed. She opens the strongbox, getting inside of it in a crouched position before pressing her fingers against the touching pad at the very back.

“Hey, don’t leave me alone here.” Taeyong rushes behind her, only to have her tugging at his forearm to bring him with her.

“Take a deep breath and close the door. I’ve never used this getaway.”

With that, Taeyong follows her instructions, closing the strongbox’s door to be left in absolute blackness. Only when she opens the hidden door does the light come back to them, closing that small door behind them.

###

“Taeyong, will you just please move your ass?”

Ironic, given that Taeyong is just crawling through an underground passage, with last night’s one-night stand’s ass right in front of his face, as the distant sound of someone rummaging through the office like a maniac leaves his ears ringing.

“I—I am…” He breathes out, trying to get used to the closed-up space and concentrate on the peak of light he can see, well, between her legs? God, no one would ever believe him if he were to say this story out loud. “I just, I, um, I don’t know what just happened. That’s all.”

“This passage leads to an alleyway. We’ll smell like trash once we’re out, but we’ll be safe.” She breathes out, hands clinging onto the dusted walls around them before huffing. “Well, as safe as I can keep you…”

“I still can’t believe you trusted that Tori guy about me being a murderer.”

“I don’t keep up with sports, Taeyong.” She says, moving up to jot some numbers onto another notepad and much to his delight, the railings that keep them away from the alleyway open at her ministrations. He would have never thought these holes on the ground really existed. “But something about boxers, who have all the force in the world and get paid for it, murdering a woman in a passionate crime didn’t sound so impossible to me. Only because I have a sense of guilt and I’m not a murderer, did I decide to save you.”

“I’m not a violent guy. Just because I’m a boxer doesn’t mean you get to judge me—”

His ramblings are cut short when she turns around to look at him, both of their bodies extended underneath the opening, trying to reach it, but unable to. “Taeyong,” Her chest molds against his, looking completely different than she did when they met. Dress forgotten, she is cladded in all black, not a curve in sight from the oversized nature of her clothing. “Read the room and help me up so I can get us out of here.”

His hands wrap around her waist, as used as he was to it last night, but now cladding him in embarrassment. He does as she says, watching her arms expand on each side of the railing until she was out. Seated on the concrete and pulling her legs away, she extends her hand towards him.

“Up and at them. They’re going to catch up with us soon.”

He didn’t know what he expected when he was hoisted up, but it definitely wasn’t not to close this chapter of his life and continuing with this runaway stance. He coughs out the dirt that clung to his lungs, hearing her close the railings as he inspects the alleyway. It seems to be in the same neighborhood, but it’s so narrow and surrounded by trash that it looks inhabitable.

Shit, it is. The only reason why he would imagine someone would come in here was because they weren’t up to no good.

“What do you mean they’re going to catch up with us?” He asks, unaware of the way her fingers hook around his, dragging him away from the scenery and towards the street.

“Blend with people.” She instructs, pulling him along with her as she loses them in between masses of people. “If Tori is behind this, which I’m guessing he has something to do with this whole mess, he will know where to find me and he will discover the passage and where it leads to. This neighborhood has too many gangs, and it’ll only take a handful of money to have us both killed.”

“You have a…” Taeyong trails, patting the pocket of her coat where he saw her put her gun last. “Isn’t that supposed to protect us?”

“I’m not talking pistols, Taeyong. I’m talking rifles, grenades, knives, you name it, they have it.” It seems as though she doesn’t care about people hearing her speak about this. Or maybe, this is far more normal in this side of town than he had expected.

The rich only bring more issues into this world.

“And what are we going to do?”

“I’ll keep you safe for a few hours while you contact your team and we figure out what is going on. Once you’re with your team and I’m sure no one is following you. I will go have a talk with Tori.”

He may not be part of this world—and he’s starting to doubt she knows much more than running away—, but that doesn’t sound like an equation to success. “That’ll get you killed.”

She shrugs. “An eye for an eye.” She tells, turning around the corner and sighing deeply. Her hand extends towards a cab, calling it over in the crowded city. “I almost got you killed,” The sun rakes down on her face when she opens the door of the taxi. “So, you can expect me to almost get killed, too. Let’s just hope I survive it.”

Taeyong enters the car right behind her, looking around the windows with suspicion. Even the man at the front, old and with a long beard, keeps him on the edge. “Oh, a couple!” The taxi driver says, unexpectedly chatty. “I haven’t had one of those in a while.”

“Yeah.” She smiles, charming when she wants to, pulling her beanie up her head. The next thing she does is tell the man an address, leaning back on her seat for some seconds of silence. “I know you don’t trust me, Taeyong.” And he doesn’t, but the way she looks at him tells him that she is trying her best. “But I’ll do anything to protect you. No one deserves to die and definitely not for my actions, but there is a reason why Tori is targeting you…and if you’re not involved with any of his businesses, we have to find out why you’re the target.” Her whisper is delicate, but it sends a shiver down her spine.

He has to trust her. He has no other choice.

###

Sometimes, we have a wound. This wound, caused by another person, closes up after endless prodding. In her case, her wound was caused by Daniel. They were so happy once, enchanted enough for her to end up on the streets after he stole from her and glad enough for him to buy the apartment that they kicked her out of once she was working in The Jungle. He was a thinker, and a coward too, and while happiness could have been the end of their story, it wasn’t.

But it’s the only person she knows in her life that doesn’t come from The Jungle and that lives in a place where no one would ever find. Her little secret, she would say, and now she has to pierce through that wound that she had let heal only to keep Taeyong safe.

The muddy hallways were not ones she missed, filled with gossiping neighbors and endless music. So much that it thumps against her eardrums and it irks her endlessly. Either way, she moves up the woodened staircase, hearing each creak and letting it bleed through her. Daniel, when was the last time she saw him? Over five years ago, that’s for sure, maybe through the street or grabbing a drink.

“Where are we going?” Taeyong asks, moving over to her side as he still inspects everything. She can tell he’s thinking they are being followed, and who knows? They might.

“To my ex’s place.” She says, shrugging her shoulders. “It’s the only place Tori doesn’t know about, because I never liked talking about him. If they’re looking for us, they definitely won’t look here.”

Taeyong hums, nibbling on his nails as he ponders. “He must be a nice man. Your…ex…for letting you crash at his place just like that.”

She chuckles, standing upright in front of apartment 204. That’s where they moved in together after high school. “He’s not the worst man I have ever met in my life, but he stole all my money and left me in the streets so…he’s up there.” Without giving Taeyong the time to answer, she knocks on his door, licking her lips in the process. “Let’s just hope he feels some remorse and decides to help me for what he did to me.”

“We don’t have to do this.” Taeyong argues, only to have her shaking her head.

“We do, Taeyong.” Once again, she knocks. “We need to hide for a few hours. Not too little, not too long. They won’t find us here.”

“I don’t want to put you through that—”

The door opens then, and when she looks up at her much taller ex-boyfriend, she realizes she didn’t miss him one bit.

The enigma of Daniel was the fact that he was always a bit on the bad side. It’s like she saw shards of glass on the floor and she swore on her life she could put them back together. She swore it didn’t mean a thing when every single penny he earned went to the drinks he shared with his friends. She swore that he loved her, with all his being, with the way he wrapped his lips around a cigarette and kissed it as if it was her…

But now that she looks at the mirror of his dark eyes, clouded, she realizes that her being by his side was only a condemn. A doom. He was slowly and absentmindedly dragging her to be exactly like him, leaving habits within his wake. He was the one that taught her how to smoke, and she’s not sure she’ll ever drop her box of cigarettes without, at least, taking a drag.

He practically purrs out her name, his slim frame covered in a gray t-shirt and jeans. He crosses one leg over the other when he leans against the doorframe, bringing his cigarette up to his thick and dried lips, his short nose letting out some of the smoke when he blurts it out. “Thought I’d never see you at my doorstep again.”

“I never needed to.” She replies, eager to call him out—to take that smirk off his face, but Daniel is smart. Wicked intelligent, at that. He knows the only reason why she would ever be there is because she needs him. “…But now I need a place to stay with. With…my friend.”

The brown strands of his long hair curl around his face, chuckling. “Why’s that?”

She rolls her eyes. “Can’t we talk inside, Daniel?”

He hums. “Of course, but you never called me Daniel.” He opens the door wider then, taking another drag of nicotine as he moves inside. He doesn’t care giving his back to people, definitely someone who doesn’t have enemies surrounding him. God, she’s one of them. “It always Dany, Dany, Dany.” He repeats, putting the cigarette down on the coffee table, tapping the ashes before taking another drag. “In different occasions, too. Different tones, tempos, you were always very—”

She knows what he is doing. If there was one thing that was brittle in Daniel’s body was his ego. He saw another potential love affair, even when he had cheated on her a bunch of times probably, and he was already thinking of the past. “Very stupid. If you liked it when I called you ‘Dany’, you would have never stolen from me on the first place.” She puts her beanie down on the coffee table, pointing at one of the sofas to Taeyong. “We’ll crash here for a few hours. Some fucker is following me and trying to kill us and I need to keep him safe. I hope you don’t mind.”

“I don’t, sugar.” The sarcasm in his voice is ever present, his tired and bag-filled eyes roaming over her face. “But I thought you’d, at least, have the decency to introduce me to one of the most well-known boxers of our time.”

“You know I don’t care about sports.” She repeats, something that she had told Taeyong already, and the man stares in between them as he sits down on the sofa. Awkward. Definitely uncomfortable.

“I—I’m Lee Taeyong.” He says, extending his hand for Daniel to take.

“I’m Daniel Kim.” He finalizes, shaking his hand. “Though, you probably heard wonders about me.”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “Daniel, I’m not here for your bullshit.”

“Right.” Finally, the flame of his cigarette dies down when he stomps on it with his foot, standing up from the flowery sofa and moving over to her. This place is as tainted as she remembers it, smelling like cardboard and humidity. “You’re here for protection and I’m here to prepare lunch and shut my pretty little mouth, ain’t it?”

She hums. “First correct thing you’ve said.”

Daniel chuckles, all teeth when he reaches for his box of cigarettes on the coffee table. Another one? It wouldn’t surprise her. “I’ve always managed to know what you wanted.” And that was one of the reasons why she always stayed. His wit played to his favor. Daniel could read her like a book, and she would always be surprised by his skills. His fingers press the cigarette stick to her mouth, and she complies by opening it, watching him as he lights it up before he turns to Taeyong. “Big fan of your work, man.”

He doesn’t seem to be utterly pleased to be where he is, and she doesn’t blame him. She put him in an unnecessary position. “Thanks. Can’t say the same thing about you.”

“Someone stole the Mona Lisa; I stole some money. Different stories for different folks, similar outcome.” Daniel shrugs, moving over to the kitchen and closing the white door behind him, leaving them in solitude when Taeyong scoffs.

“You really fell in love for that?”

“I was young and stupid.” She finalizes, taking the old landline by the kitchen door in between her fingers before putting the device up to her ear.

Taeyong stands up at that, as if knowing she wants him to call someone, when he says: “I imagine you did better after. As in, looked for better men.”

“I didn’t date anyone else after him. Well, went on some dates, like two.” She replies, not ashamed of her lack of experience, and giving the landline to him. “But…” Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she pulls the cigarette away from her lips to talk to him. “I did do better.”

“When?” Taeyong asks, pressing some numbers down with his slim fingers.

With you. Last night. She wants to tell him those words, but it’s useless. It could have easily been a simple one-night stand, perhaps a date after, but she had to fuck it up. “With someone. I—I shouldn’t really be talking about this.”

She puts her cigarette down, realizing exactly where she is, who she has always been. How could she even think their stories would have intertwined had it not been for Tori?

“Call your people. Whoever you trust and ask them where we can meet up. I’ll drop you off with Daniel’s car and then, I’ll see myself out of your life. You’ll never hear from me again and I can promise no one will bother you again.”

She turns her back to him. It’s the right thing to do. Instead, she turns off that old, raunchy television and sits down in front of it, trying to concentrate on something else.

###

By the time she plans to get out of Daniel’s place, it’s already eight at night. The sun has disappeared and her conversation with Taeyong has died down. Trivial things to keep themselves entertained and away from Daniel, who has embarked in one or two words about boxing with Taeyong.

Tori. Shit, she can’t keep Tori’s name away from her head. It’s second nature for her to correlate Tori with Allegra when they were together when Allegra had taken her in like a little sister. Tori had been the one to serve her meals, protect her from freaks when she was a bartender, and the one that taught her how to use a gun. Sure, he was always threaded in the world of organized crime, but she would have never imagined he’d kill for fun. Period.

But Taeyong could not lie to her. Something about him tells her that he is absolutely innocent. Maybe, it’s the confusion at hearing gunshots or the fact that nothing about him exudes malice, but the punches on Allegra’s corpse could have come from something else. Anyone with strength who hit on a dead body, that’s for sure.

Dongyoung, now that she knows is Taeyong’s publicist, had practically ripped her head off through the phone when Taeyong put her on it and told him everything. He was on the verge of calling the police, too, but that would only get her to jail and give unnecessary publicity to his team, just weeks away from the big fight. That’s the reason why she insisted on having him find a place for them to stay. A mansion not too far away from here was rented only this afternoon, and Taeyong would be moving in the matter of seconds.

She just needs to take him there and for that, she needs to get Daniel’s car.

“If he gets funny with you or asks you for something in return for the car, don’t do it.” Taeyong tells her once he sees her stand up, and she smiles when she looks at him from over his shoulder.

“I’ve taken care of myself plenty, Taeyong. You can land some good punches, but I think I can give a good bitch slap.” She replies, walking over to the kitchen with certain steps. “We should be out of here in ten minutes. Sit tight.”

The sizzling of vegetables comes from the pan in front of Daniel. Everything in the kitchen looks so small next to him, from the salt he pours on the pan to the pan on itself. He has changed clothing, taken a shower, and even when he’s cooking, a cigarette is in between his lips. Talk about hygiene.

“Daniel, I need you to lend me your car. I promise to return it…but tomorrow.” She starts, walking over to the white counter only to see Daniel hollow his cheeks, the ones she had once sprinkled with kisses, before taking his cigarette out.

As always, he speaks in between a cloud of smoke. “You can have it,” He says. “But I was thinking you guys could stay for dinner, too.”

She scoffs at that. “Sorry, man. I’m not sure I’m feeling like eating cigarette salad.”

Daniel chuckles at those words, shaking his head. “We used to share the same cigs and now you’re out here judging me for cooking while I smoke?” He asks, looking down at her as a smile takes over his features. She doesn’t feel a thing anymore, rapid on getting out of there. “Which reminds me, you really used to like it when I smoked as we had s—”

Stupid decisions made by even stupider, younger minds. She can’t even believe she fell in love with a foul mouthed, rampant mess like Daniel Kim. “Okay, the car keys. I’m out of here and looking for Tori—”

“That’s all I needed,” He leans his weight forward, looking into her eyes. “There’s something going on with Taeyong, I can feel it.”

“Oh, not this shit—” She mumbles, rolling her eyes. “If there was something with Taeyong, it’s none of your concern, Daniel. Get it through your head.”

“That’s a yes.” Daniel finalizes, licking the inside of his cheek before looking down at his stirred vegetables. “Damn, here I was thinking all highly about myself.”

“Your time passed long ago.” She tells him, watching him rummage through the cabinet of the counter before tossing the car keys at her.

“I can tell.” Wrapping his lips around the cigarette, he blurts out some words with the smoke. “One more thing—”

“I don’t have the time…”

“Is the man you’re looking for, that Tori guy, tall, with brown hair and always wears suits? Kind of tan…”

She frowns deeply. Daniel is not the kind of person to be around people of importance like this. “Yes. Why? Do you know him?”

“Don’t go wherever you’re thinking you can find him. He’s always accompanied.” He instructs, moving the vegetables around with his spoon. “I frequent this…brothel that he goes to. It’s the only place you can find him alone. He can’t go a week without a blowjob so I’m sure he’ll be there.” He takes a piece of napkin, jotting down the address before giving it to her.

Her stomach revolts against itself. “A brothel? Christ, Daniel, where has your life gone to?”

He clears his throat. “Turns out there are not a lot of women who would cope with me quite like you did…so, if I want to have sex, I have to pay for it.” It doesn’t surprise her one bit, but Tori? She couldn’t even imagine it.

“Thanks.” She dangles the keys he tossed at her before sprinting towards the door. Though, once she opens it, she comes face to face with Taeyong.

He looks like a deer caught in the headlights, blinking rapidly even when she tells him to start moving, walking out of the apartment with the man trailing after her steps.

“You’re not thinking of going to a brothel alone, are you?”

“Yes.” She replies, creaking stairs carrying her weight as she goes down. “I have to talk to him and see what the fuck happened.”

“He’ll kill you.” It’s hard for her to believe Tori would do such thing, so she shrugs.

“I’ll go in a two to three days just in case.” She pushes the address inside the pocket of her coat, next to her gun. “For the time being, I’ll stay at a motel and keep on the downlow. It should be fine. You’re going to your mansion with your bodyguards, I’m staying here—”

Taeyong shakes his head, taking her by the shoulders and shaking her slightly as he walks behind her, that doesn’t halter her steps. “Listen to yourself!”

“I’m listening, Taeyong. It’s a brothel.”

“It’s not the place only, it’s where you’re going and with who.”

“Alone.” She finalizes when they are by the entrance door of the apartment complex. “I should have never stopped being alone, that’s just how it is. It’s better off if I just—”

“Throw yourself to the mouth of the tiger, let yourself get chewed up and then, killed? You stand no chances.”

Trying to mask her concerns with vividness, she laughs, pushing the door open and clicking on the keys to see Daniel’s car come to life. “What are you talking about, Yong? You don’t know me—”

“I just know that if you were…if you were really like him, you wouldn’t have taken the bullets out. You spared my life even when I could have possibly been your friend’s killer and you continue to save me even if that means losing your entire casino. You left the place alone just to run away with me!” The breeze swirls against her clothing when she opens the passenger door, but before she could get inside the black, old car, Taeyong spits out some words that she would have never expected from him. “If you’re going to that brothel, I’m going with you.”

That is what does it, targeting at her patience and he has good aim. “You are not, Taeyong, end of story, get in that car and fuck off.”

While he does what she says, he can’t stop arguing: “So, what do you expect me to do?” Like a good citizen, he puts on his seatbelt, resting his palms on his knees. “I go to sleep each night for the next few days thinking about the fact that I left you to go alone on your own to some brothel, to get a guy who obviously has a team with him, and that you are going to die, most likely?”

She starts the car then, sighing deeply as she unparks it. “I know how to deal with Tori,” There can’t be all falseness in his personality. There must be a cause to all this. “Just leave it to me. If something happens, you don’t have to worry about it.”

“You’re a human being. Of course, I should worry—” Taeyong continues. Once his buttons are pushed, he can’t shut up, but the pushed pout on his lower lip has him looking far more innocent than he intends. “You don’t know how to deal with him. I’m certain he’s the bad guy—”

Sure, he may be right. “But we are all bad guys, Taeyong. I invite people in each night knowing the business that goes down in my establishment.” She pushes him away. He needs to get his head out of this business. “I—I robbed you, Taeyong. I’m a bad guy, too.”

He looks over to the side of the windows, surprising her when he leans over to her side, his breath fanning on her face when his palm gets lost in the pocket of her coat.

“Taeyong, just fuck off!”

“I need to know where you’re going, at least.” He spits out, and she is unable to take the piece of napkin away from his fingertips.

“You’re not going there.”

“I just—”

“Taeyong, I don’t want you to die. I don’t need you to.” Losing her temper, she concludes. “You don’t know what it’s like. Even if you go there and even if I do get killed, you don’t know how people like these react. They won’t only get you. They will get your staff, your friends, your family…you have no option but to follow after my advice. Stay out of it.”

He doesn’t utter a single word from then on, giving her the piece of napkin after reading over it. The silence settles in a way that has her opening her mouth a few times, trying to come up with something to say, but she’s left with nothing more than a goodbye when she reaches that mansion of his. Newest, fresh out of the market, and safe.

That’s all that matters.

###

The key to life is knowing how to nag. Outing opinions in common manners, though sometimes obstinate, is a talent, truthfully. But Dongyoung has something against his favor—he does not only have the key, he has the goddamned lock, the door itself. Nagging is his passion, his job, his talent, his characterization. It’s his everything, and Taeyong isn’t having it.

The black satin sheets rest on each side of his body, fresh out the shower after spending an entire day in that mansion. Goosebumps rise on his skin at his lack of shirt, looking up at the ceiling as he tries to concentrate on something. Anything other than her. When he was practicing in his own personal gym, early in the morning, with Soonhwan by his side worried out of his ass, he could only think that she’s out there, a target, looking to get killed and he knows that something bad with happen.

His hand rests behind his head when he watches, once again, that Dongyoung moves back and forth in the spacious new room he just bought. “What exactly were you thinking, Taeyong?” He asks, sighing deeply when he runs his fingers through his hair.

“Easy.” Taeyong whispers. “I wasn’t.”

This makes Dongyoung stop on his tracks, but Taeyong doesn’t see what he does. Looking at the ceiling is far more interesting, confirmed. “Oh, and that’s supposed to make me feel at ease? You’re lucky no one saw you. Not only did you sleep with a complete stranger, but you went to a hotel with her, almost got killed, decided to go with her to some raunchy apartment and now you can’t go anywhere without a bodyguard.” He says, anger flaring in each portion of his words. “Just to fuck a hole—”

“Yes, just to fuck. What’s the issue?” Taeyong sits up at that, rubbing the damp strands of his blonde hair that cast down his forehead. “I had sex with someone, but that’s the last thing on my list of worries. She could get killed at any second—”

“And that’s none of your business.” Dongyoung finalizes for him. “She tried to kill you, too.”

Truth is, Taeyong knows that he doesn’t trust her entirely. There will always be that nagging voice inside his head…but he can also see the factual matters on his hands. She saved his life, not once but twice. And even three times. She decided to go to that damned brothel whenever the hell she pleased without taking a ‘but’ for an answer.

“She’s the reason why I’m here.” Taeyong finalizes, standing up from his bed before walking over to the mini-refrigerator in his room. He really needs a snack. “And I’m sorry for worrying about someone who basically just threw herself to a bunch of people who want to kill her.”

“You can only care about yourself, Taeyong.”

He sighs deeply, head lulling forward to rummage through the refrigerator. There, he sees a granola bar. That should do it. “I know,” He starts. “That’s what I should do, but it…I don’t know, maybe you don’t see it this way, Dongyoung, but when I have sex with someone, is because I feel a connection.”

Dongyoung raises his eyebrows. “Oh, my God—”

“What?”

“Taeyong.” Once he has stood up, his publicist takes him by the cheeks, looking into his eyes as he tries to clear his mind. “Everything is a connection when your dick is hard. That’s just how it is. Have you ever thought about anything while having sex? No. That’s because sex is not a thinking process. It wasn’t that deep.”

“Maybe, you’re right.” He says, opening the granola bar and taking a bite. “But,” He swallows, aware of how awful his voice sounds when in the midst of eating. “You just weren’t there. She could have left my ass after I cursed her over and over again, but she didn’t. That takes responsibility.”

Dongyoung lets go of him, shrugging. “So?”

“So what?”

“You’re going to a brothel, where everyone is going to recognize you and just…save her?”

Taeyong shakes his head, deep in thoughts as he munches on the snack. “I just have to figure out what is going on first. Before she does.”

That has Dongyoung cackling. “Good luck with that.” He says, picking up his phone and looking through his contacts. “For the time being, I’ll actually do my job, as you should and try to keep everything you just did under control and for fuck’s sake, if you tell me one more time that you had a connection with someone when having sex with them, I’ll be the one to cut off your balls before they get us in any more trouble.”

Sounds like business in the way Dongyoung speaks and on the rare occasion, Taeyong would have listened to his words. He knows how difficult it is to keep a career like this but…

He doesn’t listen now.

###

Smiles and waves make less mistakes, but they aren’t any truer when in front of cameras. Interviews are exactly his thing—Taeyong has rehearsed to speak in front of the public and being liked comes inherently to him. Though, ESPN had no idea just what kind of week he had when they invited him over to watch over some fights and give his commentary.

It’s good publicity and Dongyoung is practically at the verge of his seat in happiness. He only wants the best for him, Taeyong can acknowledge that, but his mind weights with the possibilities of having lost her. As in, physically, she was never his to start with. Five days have passed since the last time he saw her and if she had gone to that fucking brothel, it had already happened. For some reason, he tries to tell himself that she’s dead already; that he really, sincerely, wholeheartedly, and all words with ‘ly’ terminations should not give a fuck.

But he does.

The glide of boxing gloves and the mixture of groans fill the dense air as people cheer for the heavyweights fighting on the ring. He respects them, and would have waited to take pictures with them, bathed in blood, putting all their will into it had he not seen someone jump up from his seat to scream directly at the boxers.

It’s not the person per say that catches his attention, but who is by his side. The man screaming, void of any embarrassment, filled with vanity is none other than Eiji, his rival. Tall, with a permanent frown on his features and a long face, his black hair sleeked back with plenty of gel to show his thick eyebrows, reddened eyes, long nose and thin lips.

Women went crazy for the bad boy persona Eiji had within him, but Taeyong knows better. The man likes blood, loves the collide of his knuckles against some flesh. Eiji has the world wrapped around his finger, gets what he wants when he wants it, but he would have never thought he’d be accompanied by someone like Tori.

That Tori.

The man that almost shot him.

If the commenters know something, they don’t tell, because Taeyong rolls down his seat the slightest, munching on his fingernails out of fear. God fucking damn it, that’s a reason! Eiji hates his guts, would kill him if he had the chance, had been asking to fight with him for months but he had denied it time and time again. Who blames him? Taeyong fears the guy, that’s all he knows, but he would have never thought he’d ask—

Wait. Pause.

Taeyong tugs at Dongyoung’s sleeve, pushing his mouth to his ear when he whispers: “The man next to Eiji was the man that tried to kill me.”

Dongyoung may be too lost in the fight or in the music, because he turns to him and screams: “What did you just say?”

Sighing, the boxer repeats: “That’s Tori, the man that tried to kill me. Maybe, they weren’t going after her, they were going after me.” It makes more sense now. Tori had lied to her to help him kill him because he couldn’t have any possible straight connection to Taeyong, or couldn’t get a hold of him, so in order to avoid any extra work from him, he had asked her to join him with the excuse of doing justice. Then, she had acted upon rationality, thrown off the bullets and called it a day. Had she not done that, he wouldn’t be here…

But the issue was never with her. She’s in more danger because she saved him.

And she definitely doesn’t have any bodyguards with her, like Taeyong does…so…

It’s a matter of time before they get her, if they haven’t already.

Taeyong could assume that said statement was the case, but he couldn’t help but think she was still out there, in danger.

“Let me call the bodyguards—”

Dongyoung tries to take matters into his hands, but Taeyong stands up. “No man, we’re going to that brothel and you’re helping me get her. That’s what we’re doing.”

His publicist shakes his head widely. “Taeyong, no—”

“They were looking for me, dumbass, they weren’t looking for her. I need to…I need to make sure she’s okay.” Before Dongyoung could say anything else, he turns to the commenters, lowering his face to the two older men to speak over the bustling noises. “I’m sorry, but something came up right now, I have to go. It was a pleasure working with you.”

“Come around any other time, Taeyong!”

“You’ve got it.” When he tugs at Dongyoung sleeves, walking through the rows of people, he hears his publicist huffing.

“Do you really expect me to get inside a brothel just to look for—?”

“Yes. We have to. You can call all the bodyguards you want, but we’re going.”

Though, he swallows the fear at the pit of his stomach. It’s only a matter of time before they get to him…or even worse, Eiji could kill him on the ring himself.

###

Hips, the place Daniel talked about is called, and while it’s covered from the police as a ‘strip-club’, she knew that it wasn’t the moment she entered three days ago.

Everyone who would look at her from afar, workers or just costumers, would think that she is, perhaps, obsessed with sex. Or that, for some reason, she was a watcher that enjoyed a few drinks, getting a glimpse of some men and women, and then she was off and away from this kind of world. A coward who couldn’t get the job done, but was just on the brink of trying it. They couldn’t be more wrong, even though she has gotten used to the place, green and violet neon lights casting down on the black room the moment she enters. I.D checked, money given, everything is under control.

And definitely, Tori has been nowhere in sight. Daniel could have confused him with anyone else named Tori, maybe someone whose real name was, indeed, Tori but she keeps trying. It’s the only clue she has left to earn the casino back. Last time she tried to enter, yesterday afternoon, bullets pierced through the armored car. Tori has fucking stolen her place, and she can’t get it back.

Not yet, at least, she has to make mends with him and sign a contract or something. She gives him what he wants, he leaves her the fuck alone.

Friends are not to be trusted. No one is, really, but when she pushes through the seas of people, women clinging onto half-naked men and men throwing money as if they were the owners of this place, she feels like she has a plan. It comes in the shape of the man that stands under the blinking, violet neon sign that reads ‘sexy boys in your area’.

Oh, cringe.

But he’s smiling at her as he nears her, taut abdomen contracting, sweet smile and innocent features changed by the darkness of his eyes, as nightly as the black strands of his hair that damply fall on his forehead when he stands in front of her.

How he isn’t sweating buckets with those leather pants? She has no clue.

“I’ve seen you around.” The sex worker says, voice soft like a blanket, extending his hand forward and she shakes it, earning sweet laughter from him. What? Was he expecting her to hold his hand or something? “I would think you really can’t be sedated, but…I think it’s pretty obvious you’re looking for someone.”

Well, pretty boy is intelligent, at least. “I am.”

“Is it your partner?” He asks, his plush lips wrapping around a softer smile. “We get plenty of husband and wives trying to mend their marriages, but it always falls down when they catch them here. If they haven’t come around, I could check the books to see if they are a regular.”

He’s not her husband. Or her boyfriend. God forbid she ever laid a finger on Tori, and the thought alone makes her want to barf, but whoever this stripper is, with love bites scattered across his neck and legs that seem to last for miles, tries to help her the best he can. “What’s your name?”

He chuckles, leaning his weight onto the wall next to her. “We don’t use real names here. I hope you don’t mind.”

“I don’t.” She mumbles, looking through the pocket of her dark denim jacket for her box of cigarettes. She lights one up at the same time that the extremely handsome worker breathes out his nickname.

Or his work-name, really. She has one of those. Jinhee does, as well. She never heard Tori’s real name.

“Woo.” Melodic voice breathing out, in what she supposes is an empathic tone, he continues his speech. “I can tell you what you need to know if you book an appointment with me.”

She quirks an eyebrow, embarrassment engulfing her. “I—I have never…”

“You don’t have to, well, we don’t have to do anything.” Woo conceptualizes, pointing in between the two of them. “I’ll take you to by assigned room, but I’ll only answer your questions.”

“How much?” She asks, lurking for her wallet to get her card out.

“Two hundred the hour.”

She has never done the walk of shame. Not even with Taeyong, but it feels like one when she pays for an hour with Woo. The man doesn’t even put on a shirt, smiling at some of the people scattered around the brothel before he opens the dark velvety door. When it closes behind them, does he actually light up the room in its soft light, a white bed in the middle of a champagne room accompanied by burning red cushions.

He goes over to the mini-bar at the corner, serving himself a cup of whiskey as he speaks. Shit, he really doesn’t look like he belongs here. He could potentially be an actor if he wanted to, one of those pretty ones in romantic comedies.

“So, what do you want to know?” Woo asks, leaning his slim frame against the mini-bar as he sips on the honey-colored whiskey.

She takes a seat on the bed, with her back properly straight, blinking at him. “Ah…” Awkwardness follows her movements, but she shakes her head. This is not the time to be embarrassed for being in a brothel. “He goes by the name Tori. He’s an associate at The Jungle, my casino. I want to know who he is working with and he’s a constant costumer around here—”

“Oh yes, he is.” Woo accepts, licking his plush lips. “One of my friends, Ice, she is the one that is usually hired by him. He’s an absolute freak…” He trails his voice, deep in thought. A tint of red washes over his face, as if somehow touched by awkwardness for what he is about to say. Definitely a paradox for a sex worker. “And loud, too. Super loud. He asks Ice to tie him up to the ceiling and—”

Her hands come up to her ears before he can continue with that mentally scarring image of Tori. Shit. “No, no, no, I want to know who he works with. That’s all.”

Woo chuckles at her antics, soft and tranquil, before he walks over to the bed. He sits next to it, laying his cheek on the mattress as he speaks. He keeps his distance, respectful of her desires above all. “I know he is part of some organized crimes. He works with a lot of people.” He says. “He brings them over here sometimes. I’ve slept with some of them.”

That’s a start. “And who is his leader?”

“I don’t hold that kind of information.” Woo utters, shrugging. “I know they go by the name ‘The Redemption’, but I’m not quite sure who is their leader. I could guess if I saw them, but I don’t know his name—”

Screams and bustle fill the air around the brothel outside, but she doesn’t pay attention to it. “Are you sure—?”

“Sir, you can’t go in there!”

“I need to get her out of here and I promise I’ll leave.”

“She’s getting services—”

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before! Just let me in!”

The door opens in the blink of an eye and though she hasn’t spoken to him much, she saw him take Taeyong in when she dropped him off at his mansion. Kim Dongyoung is right in front of her, blinking rapidly with a frown on his features as he points his thumb outside the door.

“We need to go now. You’re not safe here.”

She stands up at those words, frowning back at him. “Dongyoung? What are you doing here?”

“I said we need to go. My…represented person is waiting for you.”

She tries to stifle her laugh. He’s really not trying to say Taeyong’s name.

“We’ll, that’s the end.” Woo finalizes, splaying himself on the bed for one second before taking another sip of his drink. He speaks to the organizer in the brothel. “Tell me when I’ll have a real client.”

“Thank you—!” She can’t say much to Woo as Dongyoung is tugging at the sleeve of her jacket, dragging her along with him as he speaks, albeit raggedly.

“I can’t believe Taeyong is saving your ass when you’re not even helping anyone. You’re out here, sleeping with someone, while he’s in danger.”

She scoffs at his words. “I wasn’t sleeping with anyone.” She defends herself. “Woo is a worker here and he offered to give me information if I paid him for the hour.”

“Yeah, whatever.” The security guard opens the door for Dongyoung, two bodyguards standing in front of the black wagon that probably had Taeyong inside. The man turns around, hair whisked by the wind as he talks to her. “I don’t care what you’re doing, I care what happens to him…because he’s my friend, and you dare get him killed or break his heart, and I’ll go after you.”

With the certainty she has had to use when being put in front of a business, she hums. “You can bet on that. I would never hurt Taeyong.”

Dongyoung nods at her words. “Then, get in the wagon. He has something to tell you.”

###

A border of silence separates them in the tinted wagon, driving through the streets thanks to the chauffeur. Even Dongyoung, who had been an avid supporter of getting his hands out of this mess, remained silent after she and Taeyong had put all the cards on the table. He’s not good at poker, but he is good at bringing the pieces of this puzzle together. Taeyong is a rational thinker, while she’s more of an act.

Eiji Watanabe, a professional boxer, up and against Taeyong, thirsty for blood and power. Tori, her former companion, who had done everything and anything to seem innocent in this situation, even to Taeyong. He must be following after her now, along with Taeyong, considering that she was the one that ruined his mission. But thinking of Eiji, at such a young age, as the leader of a group like The Redemption, a mafia or a gang whatsoever, is a little bit hard to believe.

He may be a connection, a rich kid in the way who manages to call the shots from time to time. It must be in his family, much like Tori’s family was involved in that kind of thing, from a higher hierarchy that Tori fearing what he could do, or following after his steps. Thus, she has to make Taeyong believe Eiji is not entirely the culprit behind this, but he is one of those spoiled rich men with power who decide that disliking someone is enough of a reason to murder.

She sighs, looking over to the side but she can’t see much from the city with those tinted windows. Not to say she doesn’t fear, but she has to say this: “I’ll go my own way. Stay out of your lane.” She concludes. Truth be told, she always thought death wasn’t going to come—she expected it, said she didn’t fear it, claimed life as more difficult than death, but now that it palpitates on her tongue, bleeds its taste onto the muscle, she can’t help but be frightened by the idea her eyes close and they stop working altogether, along with the rest of her body.

“Fucking finally.” Dongyoung says, lifting his hands in the air as if his prayers had been heard. “Can we call the police now, too?”

“Bad publicity, remember.” Taeyong replies to Dongyoung, folding the sleeves of his white button down up to his elbows before sighing deeply. Everything about him looks expensive now, and she can’t help but study his otherwise dulcet features bathed in worry. It should have never gone like this for him. “So, Eiji is trying to kill me…and Tori is trying to kill you.”

“Yes.” She adds, between a chuckle. “I shouldn’t have—It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t…if I hadn’t just seduced you—”

“But you did. I could have said no, too.” Taeyong explains, spreading his palm over his chest, right atop his heart. “I could’ve just not had a one-night stand, but I did. We did. And I can’t simply let you die because you think this is all your fault.”

“I knew what was going to happen. It is my fault.”

“We can’t point fingers between each other.” He says, finishing the sentence with her name. As egotistic as it sounds, she loves how he rolls the name off his tongue. “We’re dealing with something bigger here. You have to get your casino back and Tori was probably the one behind her death—”

She acknowledges that, but she can’t quite put all her worries on Taeyong. “For the same reason, I should leave. You don’t know how long it will take until I get my casino back.”

“Well, it will take however long has to take, but you will.” Even when he is trying to sound certain, she can see a bit of nervousness in his eyes, biting on his nail before huffing. “What I’m trying to say is that you can stay at my mansion, with bodyguards, with me until you figure it all out. He’s right behind you and I can’t live with the weight of knowing I let someone die.”

Dongyoung widens his eyes from his spot, straightening his back on the seat. “We never a—agreed to that.”

“Dongyoung…”

“I don’t want to be any trouble.” She says, but Taeyong leans forward, taking her hands in between his when he retaliates:

“You’re already enough trouble. I think I can get used to it.”

Her throat dries up at those words, thinking and pondering of her place, perhaps surrounded by workers of Tori and how she almost got killed at the casino. There is nowhere else to go, so she responds:

“Okay, I’ll stay with you for the time being, but I’ll protect you, as well. Consider me another bodyguard.”

“Shit.” Dongyoung says once he sees the two smiling at each other. “Am I painted on the wall or do you guys just decide not to listen to me?!”

###

Awakening in Taeyong’s place tells her one thing: This is not a mansion, it’s a damned palace.

Now, now, owning a casino has given her enough to live a good life. Lavish, surely, but she has always been a bit uptight with money, but even as she gets out of the door that Taeyong had lent her, she gets a bit lost in between the gray walls and modern decorations. Everything pristinely put, as if scared of being touched, and she doesn’t even let her fingertips roam the walls properly while going down the set of stairs. Could’ve used the elevator, but she decided against feeling like the crazy, neat-freak scientist in murder movies today.

She gets to the kitchen, cladded in Taeyong’s sweatpants and a t-shirt that only now she realizes reads his nickname in boxing. It’s classical, a black t-shirt with an outline of him in white that reads “The New Boy”. Well, not so new anymore. Taeyong is on the verge of reaching the highest point of his career.

And she had to come and ruin it all.

Just as she’s reaching for the bottle of orange juice, she hears someone entering the kitchen. She stands up far too quickly, nerves on edge as she takes the Coca Cola bottle next to the orange juice, shakes it three times before she points it at the culprit in question.

Whom she sees is far different from what she imagined. Taeyong stands there, hair recently washed, his white t-shirt three times his size, lifting up his taut abdomen.

“Get close to me or I’ll…shoot…you…” Her voice grows weaker with the passage of time, staring at Taeyong with widened eyes before the man chuckles, lowering his hands altogether.

“With a Coca Cola bottle?”

She scoffs. “A shaken Coca Cola bottle. Whoever decided to attack me would have learned his lesson.”

“I can imagine, but don’t you have a gun?” Taeyong asks, running his fingers through his hair and keeping the hand there. Even at the peak of the morning, seven to be exact, he shines the brightest. Never had she seen a man hold so much beauty beneath him.

Her eyebrows raise at his statement. “I don’t point my gun around at everyone, you know?”

“Hard to believe.” The first thing he does is move the coffee machine out of its confines, the scent of fresh coffee beans taking over the kitchen. Shit. How long has it been since she has felt the smell of home? With fresh food, accompaniment, someone else’s perfume lingering in the air. “Either way,” He whispers, raising his voice the slightest to sound cute. Where were people like him in her part of the world? Where everything is wicked and broken. “I brewed you some coffee. Wasn’t sure if you’d like it, so I went all out with breakfast.” He opens the oven then, turned off, taking out the leftovers of what he had prepared. Still lukewarm. “Hot cakes,” He points to each thing he prepared. “With honey and cinnamon, spongey scrambled eggs and sliced avocado.”

“You didn’t have to—” But Taeyong is already settling the plate of food on the counter, and serving her a mug of coffee.

“There are sliced fruits in the fridge. I was going to pair them up with oatmeal, but I wasn’t sure if you’d like it.” He looks up then, placing the mug in between her fingers before rubbing the back of his neck. “Soonhwan tells me I’m an old man on the inside for liking oatmeal.”

She chuckles, taking a sip of what may compete with the best cafés in town. It’s not too sugary, with droplets of chocolate on its taste, dulcet but with some kind of spice that has her humming. “Oh my God—” She brings her hand up her mouth, savoring the taste. “You made this?”

“I like cooking. And coffee. I used to work at my grandma’s bakery when I was young.” Taeyong is rummaging through the cabinets, getting a fork and a knife out before moving towards the kitchen. “Let me look for the fruit so you can start eating—”

“Taeyong.” She calls out, voice clear as day. Her face is heated, perhaps with embarrassment. “I almost got you killed and you’re acting like a prince? You can’t do that.”

He lifts his head, half-covered by the fridge’s door, before he says: “This is called being an average roommate, who wants you to feel welcome and safe.”

She shakes her head, chuckling when he takes a plate of fruit out, placing another fork inside before he settles all meals on the kitchen island. Taking her mug with her, she takes a seat on the stool Taeyong has dragged for her. “No.” She concludes. “This is…this is madness, Taeyong. No one has ever treated me like this.”

Taeyong looks at her, raising his eyebrows for a brief second as he internalizes the words. Shit. She shouldn’t have opened her big mouth, so she tries to stifle it with some of the food he prepared for her.

“No one…has ever treated you well?” He asks, only to have her laughing, trying to cover it all.

“Taeyong, don’t listen to my stupid sad shit—”

“That’s not an answer.” But he is a prier, curious in his own way, and she has to sigh, biting down on her lip when she picks at the avocado.

Her life flashes in front of her. Happiness, then not. A smile, then a frown. It was never consistent. Never solid. Never planned or thought out. She wholeheartedly believed in high-highs and low-lows. “Life is more difficult for some people,” She says, slicing through the avocado and putting it inside her mouth. “And I just happened to never meet nice people to help me make life better.”

He wraps his hands around the edge of the island, sighing. “Then, why don’t you leave it?”

Curious, she tilts her head to the side, connecting her gaze with his. No longer are his eyes mirrors. They will never be for her, when she sees him as…as perfection itself. With some mistakes, sure, but far more simplistic than anything she had ever seen. “Leave what?”

“The Jungle.” He instructs, and she smiles at his words, shaking her head. “I’m serious. If it has only brought you stress, leave it. It’s not worth it. You could be a nice person—”

“Yong,” She interrupts, voice tiny, looking down at her hands before humming. “One day, you have your friend by your side and she’s drunk. She’s so drunk her eyes roll back and she’s laughing at everything she says, but something gets serious in her. So serious…that she can’t believe it herself. She says to you that the day she dies, she wants you to take charge of her place, her dream, the only thing she considered worth living for.” The images of Allegra fill her brain once again. Friendship was never the same; and for a reason. Tori betrayed her, and Allegra proved to be the only person she could trust in at the end. “…And then, you see her dead and her last breath is given in your arms. She’s fragile, broken, and…and she’s looking at you. She’s dead but her eyes are open and the only thing you can think of is that you want all her dreams to come true.” She lifts her gaze then, looking at him. “She saved me, but I never got to save her…and this is my only chance to prove that she was my realest friend.”

The doors to the kitchen swish open at that moment, a man with a husky voice, well above Taeyong’s age, says into the thin air: “Atta boy, we need to practice for—” His voice loses itself when she looks over her shoulder, connecting her gaze with whom she can only guess is Soonhwan. Old, with soft features, and a nose so crooked from so much fighting that it almost touches his cheek. “Oh, look at who we have here. Main character of the decade—”

“Soonhwan…” Taeyong threatens, voice low, though never scary. “Don’t become a Dongyoung, she’s…she has saved me enough times for me to pay back.”

“I’m not saying a thing.” Soonhwan says, running his fingers over his lips as if he was zipping his mouth up. “I’m just saying: Nice to meet you. I’ve heard…plenty from you. I don’t know what to believe for the moment, but we’ll figure it out.”

He’s candid, sincere, in the way he extends his hands and shakes hers. She can only bring herself to nod. “I’ll do my best to protect your boy.”

His eyes trail down to the logo on her shirt. “If only all fans spoke like you…” He trails, letting go of her hand to wrap his arm around Taeyong’s shoulder. The man shrinks like a boy being embarrassed in front of his crush by his old and jokester dad. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, not all of us are lucky enough to know how to use a gun and I have to prepare my boy for the fight.”

Taeyong sighs. “Yeah…”

“Seventeen days from now. We’re going strong for that fight.”

She continues to eat, shrugging her shoulders. “Suit yourselves. I’ll be here…thinking about dinner recipes and…how to make them and not fuck them up in the process.” She points at the plate with her fork. “This is too good to compete with, but if I’m staying here, we have to make an arrangement.”

“Arrangement?” Taeyong questions, confused.

“You make breakfast, I make dinner.”

Soonhwan whistles at that. “Well, I better start living here if that’s the case.”

“Soonhwan!” Taeyong nudges his side, earning breathy laughs from Soonhwan.

“Let’s go, kid. It’s getting late and we need to train.”

With that, he’s gone, leaving her with a trail of his scent and a taste of his immaculate cooking skills.

Dinner time is going to be difficult for her.

###

Seven days until the fight and Taeyong’s nerves are up the roof. The media has started to go crazy, publicity at its peak, Dongyoung the busiest he has ever been and his eyes are reddened from the lack of sleep. He spends most of his time practicing, with the usual break for a meal or a chat with…well, her.

It’s eleven at night when his phone is no longer as interesting as it should and he decides to go to the gym, get some punches on and practice a bit more. Though, once he slides the doors open, he is met by the sound of groaning and rubber hitting against rubber. His sturdiest punching bag, in a bright red color through the gray walls, stands out when she collides her fists against them, covered by his fighting gloves that move around her hands thanks to her ignorance in not knowing how to put them on.

The door closes behind him, but she’s too immersed in whatever consumes her, sweat pooling at her forehead, sporting her pajamas as she knocks and knocks against the punching bag. They are weak punches, but filled with rage, trying her hardest to bend something stronger than her to her will. As though she wants power again, but she’s unable to receive it.

“You’re going to hurt yourself.” Taeyong says, moving over to her to take the punching bag in between his fingers. She looks at him, hands misplaced in front of her, one over the other, as she tries to land another punch. Upon trying to smile at her, she doesn’t.

“What is there to it?” She asks, voice low, void of any hope, ridden by impatience. “If I hurt myself, what’s there to it? I have nothing else to lose.”

Her right fist lifts up at that, a groan ripping through her throat when she punches the bag again. Taeyong widens his eyes, shaking his head in the process. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. What just happened?” Though, worry only glimmers on him when he sees her drop to her knees, taking off his gloves and tossing them to the side when she brings her hands up to her eyes, folding onto herself as a sob escapes her. “Hey…”

He rushes towards her, taking her in between his arms as he tries to get a glimpse of his face. Her hold is strong, covering every ounce of pain on her features.

“Let go, Taeyong.”

“Not when you’re like this.” Taeyong whispers, resting his chin on top of her head as he hears her crying in his arms. His heart is broken, and he doesn’t even know why. He’s captured in this mansion, aware of his surroundings, because of her, isn’t it? Somehow, his mind can’t quite believe that she wasn’t another little card played in a game of poker, but they both lost. “W—What happened? I can’t help you if you don’t…if you don’t tell me. Oh God, please stop crying—”

She doesn’t, but she rubs at her eyes, lifting her gaze to connect her eyes with his own once he pulls away from her. Not enough to let go of her, but to look at her instead.

“I’ve lost it all, Taeyong.” She says, shaking her head when her lip trembles. She bites it before another sob could leave her. “I’ve lost my friend, the casino, my apartment, my life. Taeyong, how can I protect you when I have nothing else to lose? I don’t see a way out of this mess Tori created for me—”

Taeyong shakes his head, using his thumbs to rub the tears away. “You haven’t lost everything.” For some reason, he finds his body gravitating towards her, his nose resting on the side of her face as he takes in a breath, rubbing his skin with her own when a shaky sigh leaves her. “You haven’t lost me. I’m your friend. I’m here. You’ve proved yourself trusty enough—”

“You’re not mine to lose, Taeyong.” She repeats, shaking her head. “I can’t be your friend. I haven’t lost you yet, Taeyong. They’re still looking for you and you’re getting in that ring looking to—” Her arms push him away, obstinate in the way she rests a hand against her forehead. “Looking to get killed, Taeyong. Eiji is going to murder you.”

Taeyong denies that with a little smile of his own. “That’s the risk of being a boxer. A punch could always be a little bit too strong—”

“No, Yong, he’s looking to kill you. I investigated him, Taeyong, he’s killed someone on the ring—”

“What can I do?” He asks, though never does he lift his voice or accuse her of anything. A feather in the way he reaches out for her and once again, takes her in with those eyes of his. “I can’t back out. I can’t do that now when I’m just one step away from reaching what I have worked so hard for.”

His ambition has blinded him, or maybe, she is just a coward while he has been the real hero all along. “Right.” She whispers, reaching a hand out to cradle his face before a grin takes over her features. “Taeyong?”

“Mhm?” He hums, eyelashes fluttering against the underside of his eyes.

“I will never have enough words to tell you how sorry I am for getting you into this. For using your punching bag, too.” She tells, earning laughter from him as he helps her up.

“I was just worried you’d injure yourself. Bad punches and with the gloves not put on correctly? An equation to broken knuckles.”

“Oh, because you’re an expert in broken knuckles.” She jokes around, only to have him nodding.

“You’d be surprised to know that I am quite knowledgeable in the subject.” Though, his warm hands reach for her own as he puts the gloves on her, palming her hands together to make sure they are tightly put. “Come on, I’m going to teach you how to land a good punch.”

###

Her favorite part of the entire mansion is the balcony. The railings are modern, straight lines and no curves, but the coldness of it when she wraps her fingers around it, the breeze swooshing at her hair has her closing her eyes. For once, the world feels okay. It’s quiet, peaceful, she’s back in square one. No judgement, no time, nothing to worry about.

But she has things to worry about. Twenty-four hours until the fight. An entire day filled with images of what she has made her mind into. She opens her eyes then, hearing the doors of the balcony slide open until she feels someone placing a cold glass against her skin. She hisses, turning around to capture the cause of the shiver and pain that rakes up her skin, but when she wraps her hand around Taeyong’s wrist, he’s already smiling.

No, he’s chuckling, like a goddamned child on a Christmas morning before he waves the glass of iced tea in front of her face. “I’ve got you and I’ve got you good.” He says, now resting it against her cheek when she tries to reach out for it again. It burns, that’s for sure.

“Taeyong!” She scolds, even when he continues laughing, almost choking on his own iced tea when he takes a sip to ease his laughter. It doesn’t work, clearly, and she has to pat his back to get him to stop coughing, eyes brimmed with tears when he looks up at her. “Jesus, why did you drink the tea if you were laughing?”

“I…I…was…” He coughs again, chuckling when he straightens his back and looks at her, rubbing his tears again. “I was being stupid.” His voice comes out hoarse, but that’s all his doing.

“I could tell.” She replies, but a little giggle makes its way through her lips. This is probably the last time she is going to see him like this, and she can’t help but feel a little tug at her heart. The past few weeks have been tranquil, perfect in their own way, and she knows better than to get attached…but she has never had a friend like this. “So, Yong.” He repeats her name, only to have her taking a sip of the tea. “You prepared for tomorrow?”

The question almost sounds like she is asking herself, but she ignores it, concentrating on the way Taeyong nods. “I am.” She hums, turning around to continue to look at the moonshine and the dangling stars, but just as she takes in a breath, she feels his presence behind her, resting one hand on her hair to ruffle it softly. “Thank you for making dinner all these days. It was tasty.”

“Tasty?” She questions, looking over her shoulder to see him a bit too close. His eyes look down at her lips, parting his own, shimmered by the glistening lights of the city around them. Too far to see them. “It was average at best.”

“It was made with intent. That’s all that matters.” He whispers, resting one of his arms on the side of her body, hooking his fingers on the railing before taking a sip of his drink. The sinful way his throat goes up and down and he licks his lips after has her cursing herself internally. “You know, I really thought you were going to be one of the best people I would ever meet. Then, you were the worst. And then, you came out to be…”

“The worst, again?”

“Human. You’re neither too good nor too bad. You’re real.” Taeyong says, his breath fanning over her face when he looks into her eyes. “A friend of mine once told me that I had to inspect people’s eyes to know if they were lying or not. I had to see myself in them, but I could never see me in yours. I could only see…see you, you giving it your all to make sure I was okay.” He mumbles, and she feels her heart being stepped on, tugged, eaten alive just at his words. His body pushes forward, his abdomen contorting to her back when he leans down, lips caressing her own. “And I want to be able to thank you—”

He places the glass down on the table next to them, his cold fingertips melting against her stomach when he brings her back, pressing his lips against her own. His slim body molds to hers perfectly, as if made to fit her, and for a moment, she stays there, with her chin placed over her shoulder as she kisses him with fervor. It feels right, to have the wet glide of his lips against her own, tongues getting to know each other and he lets out a soft breath.

But that’s the thing. Taeyong is soft, dulcet, tranquil. He’s made for all the good in the world, and she’s in the bad. As much as her heart wants to glimmer gold, it’s tainted in black. She pushes herself away from him, taking in a deep breath when he looks into her eyes. There is nothing that she desires more than to kiss him, but—

“It’s better if we don’t.” She mumbles, and he stays quiet for a few seconds before pushing himself away from her.

“You didn’t want to? Oh shit, I didn’t mean to—”

“I want to, Taeyong. I’d kiss you forever if I could.” She replies, turning around until her back is resting against the railing. “I would love to have you kissing me silly and be with you but—”

“But?” Taeyong asks, raising his eyebrows.

“But from tomorrow on, I won’t be with you.” Though, she shortens the real reason. “I don’t…want you to think I’m a good person, that underneath me is all the good in the world. I’ve hung out with the wrong people and no I have to learn how to deal with that. I can’t fill your life with that bullshit. Not anymore.”

Taeyong crosses his arms over his chest, staring off into the city, his hair tied behind his back to put his gorgeous face in full display. “So, tomorrow you will leave?”

“I’ll make sure I leave everything organized so they never bother you again.” She moves over to him, splaying her hands on his chest, rolling them backwards until they rest on his back and she tugs him for a hug. She doesn’t want him to see the tears that gather in her eyes when she says: “And as long as you’re okay, that’s all I could care about. You’ll get over it, Taeyong, but I could never get over losing you.”

Taeyong nuzzles his nose against her neck, breathing in deeply before the warmth of his mouth lets out a few words: “Why couldn’t it have been easier for us?”

The possibilities are endless, but she fights back the tears and pulls away to say a truth she doesn’t want to accept. “Because we were never meant to be, Taeyong.” With that, she takes the glass she had left on the side, taking a sip before humming. “So, care to watch a movie with me before everything goes to hell?”

He nods. “There’s nothing I’d love more.”

###

As it turns out, the lights on top of the ring burn against his skin, compared to the flashes and the cheers that come with the people surrounding him. For once, he feels naked, as if reborn again, with his shirt off and his knuckles well prepared for a good punches, his hair pushed away from his face and his eyes directly set onto Eiji.

The man practically oozed confidence the moment he entered the ring. Tall, sturdy, ready to take over the world, with his prize wrapped around his waist before he unhooks it and shows it to the world. He even manages to throw some laughter Taeyong’s way, teeth clattering and eyes throwing daggers by the time they hook their gazes.

But he knows something…and that is that he has a family, away from the one that is obviously watching him from home. He has his staff, including Soonhwan and Dongyoung at the corner, waiting for him, rubbing Vaseline on his skin just in case something goes wrong with a wound and they prepared for him, confectioned each muscle on his body to be in his best shape.

He jumps in place a few times, hearing the introductions of both the fighters and the referee, the judges themselves, as well, and his mind suddenly goes to one of the people in the crowd.

Her.

She’s there.

And somehow, that makes him feel better. It relaxes him, because while he had once thought of boxing as a game of the body, it includes the mind too. When he steps forward, face to face with Eiji as he sports that infamous grin of his, that people somehow don’t notice is far more malicious than intended, he sees himself in those eyes. They are so different, yet he can see the determination in his own features, his blonde head of hair, the preparation of his body.

And he can see that he wants to win, for all he put him through. For all she had to lose just because of him.

So, the first punch lands in the weakest point he can muster, hearing cheers from the world around him, bleeding around his ears. Taeyong’s pulse quickens and he tries to take it easy. Life is a game of poker and all his cards have been spread, but now more than ever, he wants to win. Not to be the champion, though that would be a plus, but because he caused him pain, real pain, and that’s not how this sport works.

He’s back on square one, when he had to defend the bakery against those robbers, so even when punches land on his face and body, he manages to dodge them—or some of them, really—.

Somewhere in the crowd, he’ll show her that there is nothing more she should worry about.

###

It’s time to say goodbye.

As she moves through the groups of people in the crowd, excusing herself along the way, with her heart roaring to the sound of the people around her cheering. Taeyong is doing good. Too good, and pride swells at her chest, as well as fear. She knows what Eiji is capable of, but when she sees Tori in the front row, a bottle of beer snugly kept in place by his fingers, she knows that her plan will be executed to perfection.

All Eiji wants is money and power. As long as one of the people that got in his way is killed and he gets his money, he is okay. That, along with causing Taeyong pain, is more than what he could ever ask for. It’s the kind of mentality that comes with dictators, an eye for an eye, and maybe, she’ll snatch both out if that means just getting out of this mess. Protecting him, above all, from a bullet through the chest. From what happened to Allegra because of Tori’s fucking loans.

Her hand splays on top of his shoulder, freezing when he looks at her from over his shoulder, his mussy hair falling over his now disgusting face. “Long time no see, friend.”

His surprise doesn’t last long, the corner of his lips lifting up in a smile. “Likewise.” He turns around then, jutting his chin forward. “Want to take this outside and talk?”

“I think we can talk here.” She crosses her arms across her chest, kneeling down just in case the people behind her start arguing about her position. Her eyes connect to Tori’s, a harsh sigh leaving her lips. “I know what you’ve been meaning to do and I know you work for Eiji, but I have something I want you to tell your boss.”

Tori shakes his head, trying to play dumb. “I don’t know what you’re—”

“You can take my casino. It’s all yours now. Take all the money that you will from my bank accounts, but don’t touch Taeyong. Do not lay a single finger on one of his hairs, because I’ll make sure to haunt you down if you don’t follow through.” And maybe, she’s a one-woman club, but she knows that someone like him doesn’t deserve half of the shit he has been put through. “…You can take me instead of him. Kill me. Rob me. Whatever the fuck you want to do. I will work for you if that’s what Eiji wants, but he can’t touch Taeyong. That’s my part of the business.”

Tori remains silent for a few seconds, the ring of the bell catching him out of his thoughts before he hums. “Okay, I’ll talk to the boss.” He says, tugging at her arm and placing her by his side before sighing. “This could’ve been easier if only Allegra had not decided to change her testament on the last minute, you know?”

He takes a sip of his beer and she scoffs at his words. “What do you mean?”

“I would’ve paid all my loans had she kept on her word and left everything under my name. That was the plan, killing her and paying Eiji’s family, but you had to come around and ruin it all.” The sound of his voice brings a shiver down his spice, looking down at his hands, the same ones that had killed her friend. “I gave you another chance and I was going to kill you once you got to the office, but you had to ruin everything, right? Stab me in the back and all.”

All the pain, the questioning, the mysteriousness, had all fallen down on him. How could she not have noticed? “That makes two of us.” She repeats, throwing her head back when she sees Tori stand up. “Wait, what—?”

“Come with me.” He instructs, extending his hand. “You have to leave The Jungle under my name and I’ll leave you with the Watanabe’s on the way there.”

Her eyes close tightly. There was no way of getting out of this legally, so she had to result to this. Maybe, if the world is fair, she won’t have to die today.

So, she grasps the hand of the man that killed her friend, stabbed her in the back and brought Taeyong into her life only to pluck him away at the same time, and decides to put all her hope in destiny.

Or mercy, really.

###

Eleven months later.

A beauty blender presses against his skin, cameras pointed directly to his face as he looks up at the ceiling. The makeup artist is trying to get to his dark circles, ever-present ever since he earned the title of worldwide light featherweight champion, but he is also taking this time to think. Rehearse over his lines for the interview, try not to get lost in his thoughts, feel proud of the place he finds himself in.

But he feels guilty, instead. Eleven months ago, he had been stupid enough to leave her on that crowd, on her own, gone to God-knows-where, doing God-knows-what and definitely not alive. Taeyong has perpetrated this inside his brain, that there is no way in hell she was alive. Maybe, one of Eiji’s men took her, or she tried to win a fight on her own, but he is certain of one thing: All the riches around him, the success, the life that he is living comes from the fact that she had given up something for him. To keep him safe.

They could have been great friends. Hell, maybe, if things had been different for them during that one-night stand, he would have asked for her number and they’d pose for pictures together, be the envy and the gossip of magazines, but that didn’t happen. Instead, he’s seated on a leather seat, cladded on a black turtleneck and matching pants, with his hair now dyed deep brown as the makeup artist tries to smile at him.

“Your eyes shine a lot, sir.” She says, a small giggle leaving her lips as she pushes the beauty blender away from his face.

Taeyong tries to smile, he really does, but he has heard those words before. Not from fans, not from family, but from her. Those were one of the first few conversations they had and it’s stupid of him to keep clinging to that. They weren’t Bonnie and Clyde or Romeo and Juliet. They were two fairytales, far too realistic, that interfered in each other’s stories but were never meant to end up together.

“So, I’ve heard.” Taeyong replies, but just before the makeup artist could say anything else, Dongyoung comes sprinting into the studio, trying to catch his breath as he splays his hands on his thighs. “Dongyoung, what happened?”

His nerves have been on the line ever since what happened. Always wary. Always careful. Not everyone was good, he had learned, but sometimes, the bad holds some of its past with it. The publicist lifts his gaze, waving a letter in front of him when he spits out: “You got mail. This is important.”

He has never seen Dongyoung this preoccupied, or this excited at the same time. Taeyong frowns, taking the card in between his fingers before touching the signature at the back of the envelope. That’s when his heart picks up, seeing her real name—not boss, not the nickname she used, but the one she had given him instead. The person he knew.

But no, it couldn’t be. She had to be dead.

Impatience and ignorance makes him open the envelope far too quickly, ripping it to get to the letter, signed only two weeks ago.

Dear Taeyong,

I know you probably curse at the sound of my name by now, or that you hate me. I don’t blame you. I hated me to certain extent, too. I only learned how to grow easy with myself after what I did and here I am.

How’s life? I know you won’t be able to reply to me, but from where I am—in some island that I shouldn’t be telling you about—, I get to see some glimpses of you on TV. I’m glad you’re doing great and that you’re successful. I hope you get to meet someone to be by your side in all those interviews, but that’s only if you want…you have always been whole just on your own.

I wanted to pretend I was dead. I thought it was easier for you, but it’s not easier for me. I expected to die that night I gave myself to The Redemption but no, Eiji’s family wanted me to keep working for them. They said to never communicate with you, but the more I saw you on TV as I travelled around the world, the more I hoped I would have been able to say my proper goodbyes.

I’m a mule. Not an animal, I just deliver…things around. Things I shouldn’t be talking about in a letter that your management will probably read, but I was just clarifying in case you didn’t know. I’m working for them, and it’s not easy, but it’s what had to be done. They would have killed you instead, I know they would have.

And I wouldn’t have been able to take it. Not you, Taeyong. Not the only person I had left that I could trust.

Allegra once told me that I had to start to trust people. I trusted her, I trusted Tori, but I never learned what was real trust until I met you, Taeyong. I know now what she felt…what she wanted…she only wanted be me to be safe, and I wanted the same for you.

I get a feeling only good things will come your way now that I’m not around, so hold tight. This is only the first ride to success.

Much love and all the hugs and kisses I never managed to give you.

She ends it with her name, and Taeyong has to look up to stop the tears that gathered in his vision. Still, he blinks them away, reading the letter over and over again before holding it closely to his chest. Dongyoung doesn’t take it, thankfully, and he relishes on the feeling of knowing she is okay. She is alive.

Not living the life she deserved, but breathing nonetheless.

“Are you ready, Mr. Lee?” The interviewer asks, taking a seat on the couch across from him as he looks down at his notes. “I’m a huge fan of you. I’m sure you don’t mind some extra questions.”

“I don’t.” He smiles. If there is one thing he has to do is succeed.

For him.

For his family.

For his friends.

For her, for giving the casino and her freedom away just to have him succeed.

Little does she know he would never curse her name, not when she’s the bravest person he has ever met, and that comes from someone who does boxing for a living.

#taeyong scenarios #taeyong #nct scenarios #nct #kpop scenarios #writing #taeyong angst #taeyong au #nct angst #nct au #boxer!taeyong #casino owner!reader #ok yes i watched too much creed while writing this i swear it isn't my fault lol

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mysoftboybensolo · 3 years

Text

The Alienist and the Soprano

Chapter 6: The Disturbance

A/N: This was inspired by Laszlo’s love of opera and my thought on what if he fell for an opera singer. Multi chapter. Canon divergence, there is no Mary Palmer here (I loved Mary and Laszlo, so I don’t feel like I could have her here and have him be with another woman). A mix of show and book canons. No Y/N, OC named Evelina Lind.

A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32029150

Pairing: Laszlo Kreizler x Fem OC!

Summary: The last thing Laszlo Kreizler ever expected while investigating the death of children was to fall in love, and with an opera singer no less!

Warnings: Age gap, a child is harmed, creepy break in of apartment.

Special shout out to @arizemo for giving me encouragement to continue to write when I felt like giving up. You were the best and this is dedicated to you, even though I know you haven’t seen the show.

The sky didn’t look as promising as Laszlo had hoped, and was grateful that one of the staff members insisted that he’d bring an umbrella just in case, but he could swear that when he saw Evelina, the day seemed brighter and to him, there weren’t any clouds. “Good morning, Miss Lind. I trust you had a good night’s rest?”

“I did, thank you. I have not had the pleasure of walking this park yet, thank you for inviting me.”

“Of course, shall we?” He asked, gesturing with his umbrella, making her chuckle. For a while, they walked side by side, exchanging pleasantries, Laszlo pointing out the different birds, even the ones he couldn’t see but only hear.

“My goodness, you do know everything!” she laughed.

“When I was in college, I studied ornithology first, not quite sure what I had wanted to do, but then I had come to realize that psychology was even more fascinating to me. That was when I had met Moore and Roosevelt, I suppose they are the longest kept friends I have. This was in ‘77, so nearly twenty years.” He faltered for a moment, then said, “That must make me sound very old, doesn’t it?”

“Old? Nonsense, age was what you feel. Do you feel old? You don’t look it, if I may say. You are lean and fit, and you keep yourself in good condition.”

“I’m middle aged, Miss Lind.”

“Silly word. You are a man of the hills.”

“You may tease me as much as you wish, but I cannot help my age.”

“Your age?” she asked, surprised. “I never dreamed-” she stopped herself. I never dreamed that you’d ever think yourself as old, was what she would have said, but she saw the shadow in his eyes and decided to not further probe the topic. “You know,” she says, “It has come to my attention, that you still refer to me as Miss Lind. I believe we have come to know each other long enough to move past formality. Don’t you think?”

He paused to think and realized that she was right. They have known each other for a little over a month, and certainly their introduction was under a certain case of duress that helped bring them closer together. “I-I suppose so. It would be nice to hear you call me by chosen name.”

“Very well, Laszlo.”

Oh God, he thinks, how wonderful it sounds! As they walked, they passed a pair of ladies who stared at them with contempt and made a gesture of turning their noses at them, silently but effectively showing their distain for the pair.

“Do you think that was for me?” Evelina asked, trying to keep her voice light, though she was hurt by the gesture.

“I am certain that was for me. I am not the most well-liked man, and my profession is as frown upon as…” he paused, fearful he’d offend her.

Evelina smiled and nodded understanding. “As an opera singer. It’s alright, it can be said. A month ago, I had difficulty bearing the judging stares and snide comments, but I like to think I developed a thicker skin to bear it, even though it still hurts. I am sure they don’t bother you anymore, the comments on your profession I mean.”

He stopped completely then says, “Evelina, this is wrong.”

She looks at him incredulous. “What is?”

“That I should take up the time and friendship of…of someone so young and good as you.”

She sighed and grinned. “Oh, Laszlo, I am so glad I’ve met you.”

Now he looked at her incredulously. “But why?”

“Well, that’s just it. I am not sure why. I never met anyone that surprises me as much as you do, and yet, someone that I feel I truly understand. And the young ones are so boring. I am never bored with you!”

He huffed out a smile, shaking his head. “I didn’t think I was at all interesting.”

“Of course, you are! You put on this air of being steely cold and distant, but really, you are gentle and kind, and warm.”

“Do not be mistaken, I am nothing more than a cold, aging alienist.”

She shakes her head. “That’s what you try to make people think. And I know why. I may not know the details, but I know you did not have a happy childhood, and it made you feel as though you had to protect yourself from the hurt, but it also stops you from the joy you want.” Looking down at her gloved hands, which fiddled for a moment, she said looking back up, “Now, I told you why I like you, it’s your turn to say what you like about me. You do like me, don’t you?” She asks, her voice soft as she hoped she wasn’t wrong.

He speaks not a moment, then says, “Yes, I like you, very much. I like…that I feel safe with you. It’s a feeling I’ve not had much in my life. You make me think and smile, and, want to live.”

Evelina smiled and her eyes tender. “I’ve never met anyone quite like you, Laszlo.”

“And I-I’ve never met anyone quite like you.” He feels his heart race at her words, those blue eyes filled with an emotion that no one ever gave him before, and it filled him with many different emotions.

“Laszlo?” A voice breaks the moment, making Evelina and Laszlo turn to see where the voice came from. Approaching them were two young men, one tall and slim with a cheery disposition and the other a few inches shorter and sturdier with glasses. “Laszlo, we may have a lead!” spoke the sturdier man, who sounded quite excited.

“Oh, forgive us,” the slimmer man said, “We hadn’t meant to intrude.”

“Gentleman allow me to introduce to you, Miss Evelina Lind. Evelina, this is Marcus and Lucius Isaacson, they have been working with John, Sara and I on investigations.” Laszlo introduced them, pointing out to Evelina which man was who.

“Oh, yes, I do remember you. I recall Laszlo mentioning the both of you.”

“Likewise, Miss Lind. In fact,” Lucius spoke with a smile, “Laszlo has spoken of you on many occasions. It almost feels as if we know you.” Marcus gave a small but clear jab in the rib, making Lucius look at him in confusion.

Evelina blushed, pleased at the thought of Laszlo speaking of her to others. “Uh, yes, well,” Laszlo intervened, “Follow the lead and when we meet tonight, we’ll go over it. Good day,” his tone of voice may have been a bit curt, but it was understandable.

Marcus nodded and bid the pair a good day before guiding his brother away, trying to explain to him what it was they had interrupted.

Evelina felt her cheeks grow warm at the idea that she was talked of by Laszlo, that other people have heard him speak of her, she wasn’t just some secret friend he didn’t wish to be associated with. The soft rumble of thunder made them both look up at the gray sky and with a few drops falling, Laszlo opened his umbrella and held it over them both. Without thinking, Evelina had slipped her arm around his, allowing her to be sheltered more from the rain.

Laszlo gulped. Yes, he had escorted her a few times, he even escorted Sara, but how close her body was pressed to his side, the scent of rose and iris filling his nose, it made Laszlo feel like a schoolboy in the throes of his first crush. “Um,” he cleared his throat, “I should take you back home.”

As much as she was disappointed that the walk was cut short by the rain, she was pleased at the progress they had made. She felt certain that now with formalities pushed aside and the sharing of first names would lead to the next big step. But still, she was not certain. Did he just humor her since he had saved her and thought that she was a lonesome young woman, or did he have the same feelings as she did? His attitude at times made it difficult for her to decipher, but she wasn’t one to give up.

Reaching back her place, Evelina thanked him, and both felt the absence when her arm slipped away from his. But he had to return to the institute, and she had to be ready for rehearsals tomorrow.

Laszlo hurried back to the institute, and once he had returned, he noticed a group of children sitting on the floor along the wall, looking rather glum. “Oh, now why the long faces?”

“We were going to play outside, but then it began to rain, and sadly the children were very eager to go out,” Mrs. Gorenko, one of the teachers, explained to the doctor, helping him with his coat.

“Well, we can’t have disappointed children. I am sure that the great hall can be a perfect substitute.”

He smiled when he saw the children brighten up and exclaimed in excitement as they were led to the great hall to play. And as he returned to his office, he allowed the good mood to overcome him and he now smiled because of Miss Lind, or rather, Evelina. To say her name aloud was as much of a pleasure as it was for him to hear his name on her lips. Perhaps, he thinks, perhaps it is as he could hope it to be.

His mood was so high that he thought nothing could spoil this feeling, but a sudden crash and sound of children screaming broke his dreams. He got up and ran towards the sound, leading him to the great hall where children huddled in a corner, having been led there by Mrs. Gorenko.

He looked over and found Mrs. Gorenko knelt beside a crying child, his leg bleeding. Rushing over and falling to his knees, he looked at the child. “What happened?”

“I am not sure, doctor. We were doing our morning exercise, then suddenly, the window broke, and something flew into the room. Alastair tripped and his leg landed on the glass.”

“Check on the children, I’ve got him.” Mrs. Gorenko went to the other children, looking over them, while Laszlo examined the little boy’s leg. Alastair was only eight, smaller than the other boys, and it broke Laszlo’s heart to see him sobbing and shaking with fear. Other members of the staff came rushing in, wondering what the commotion was and came to help. Two of the nurses rushed over to Laszlo and they carefully carried the boy, rushing to the ward. “Get to work on his leg, he may need stitches,” he softly tells one of the nurses as he got up from the floor.

He went over and looked down at the little ones huddled, many of whom were crying, frighten by the disturbance. “Is everyone alright?” he asked gently and gave a quick scan over their persons. “Take them to their dormitories, no more lessons today for them, they’d have quite a shock as it is.”

Once alone, he inspects the window, followed the broken glass to where a large rock sat. Picking it up, he saw that tied around it was coarse yarn and a folded up piece of paper. He managed to slip the note out without tearing then opened it. The words sent a shiver up his spine.

I have my eye on you, Dr. Kreizler

John never got word from Laszlo to hurry due to great urgency, so when he arrived back home and received the message, he was quick to hurry right back out, despite his grandmother calling for him. He was led by one of the nurses to the big hall and his heart dropped to his stomach to see the sight. “Good God, Laszlo, what happened?”

Laszlo, who had been pacing back and forth, the look that John has seen many times of contained fury, and he knew it could not be good. “Someone threw a rock through my window, with this note attached.” He gestured to the note in his hands, stopped only to give it to John.

John read the note and he too felt his blood run cold. “Do you think it is the killer?”

“Who else? We must be getting close, if he could do such a thing. We need to get him before anything else happens.”

“Are the children alright?”

“Yes, for now. But,” his voice began to rise, “He intruded in their sanctuary. How am I supposed to explain to the children, that the one place they thought they were safe is no longer the haven they were promised? How can I take care of them if I can’t protect them from people like this?”

“We will catch this man, Laszlo, and all will be well.”

“You don’t get it, do you John?” Laszlo stopped pacing, yelling, “They came after my children! One of them got hurt, he may need stitches! What if the rock hit and killed one of them? My children were put in danger John, my children!” His voice cracked at the last words, forcing him to turn away from his friend.

John rarely ever saw Laszlo express an emotion that came from a place of caring, and it broke him to see how upset Laszlo was when a threat came to close, not to him, but to those he cares for deeply. John stepped up and placed a hand on Laszlo’s shoulder, gently, comforting. “We will get him, Laszlo. We will protect your children. I promise.” As much as Laszlo was touched by John's willingness to help, it did not ease his fears or disturbance.

But Laszlo was not the only one to be disturbed.

Going up the stairs to her room, Evelina hummed softly, thinking of the way he said her name, and stopped completely when she saw her door slightly opened. Her blood ran cold, and she carefully kicked the door open, but found no one there. Evelina looked about her room, nothing valuable was taken, but what sent a wave of fear over her was that her dresser drawer was open, and a pair of her knickers was missing. Her heart began to beat furiously and without thinking, she rushed out of the building and went to the first person she thought of.

Sara was shocked to say the least when she saw Evelina standing at his door, looking half out of her wits, desperate. “Evelina. What on earth?”

“I need help.”

She let her in and brought her to the drawing room, offering a whiskey, not thinking of how most women wouldn’t drink it. But Evelina gladly accepted it, downing the whole of it. “Are you alright? What happened?”

“My apartment has been broken into.”

“Oh my.” Sara sat beside her, offered a comforting hand. “Did they take anything valuable?”

“No,” Evelina said, and at first she hesitated, unsure if she should mention it, but then said, “They…they took a pair of my knickers.”

Sara stiffened, feeling shocked and a second hand fear. “What compels a man do to something so disturbing? Thank goodness you were not there, and that no one else was harmed.”

Evelina nodded, agreeing, but still shook. “I do not feel safe staying there. I am not sure what to do or where to go. Forgive me if I am a burden, but you were the first thought of when remembering our first conversation.”

“Not at all. I am glad you came to me.” Sara thought for a moment, then said, “If I came with you to your apartment to collect your things, would that make you feel better?”

“To collect my things?”

“Well of course. I can’t imagine you’d want to stay there much longer, so we shall have all your things brought here.”

Realizing what she meant, Evelina immediately began to protest. “Oh, I couldn’t dare ask. It is too much.”

“Nonsense. Even if you did feel comfortable staying, I wouldn’t feel right with sending you back alone. You shall stay with me for as long as you wish.”

Evelina’s eyes watered and she reached over to hug Sara, who at first was taken aback by the gesture, but welcomed it as she figured that Evelina was in need of comfort. “Thank you so much. I’ll pay you back,” she said, pulling away, “Whatever you’d like. I am not afraid of pulling my weight around here.”

“Really, it is alright. If the situation was reversed, I am sure you’d do the same. Now,” Sara stood, “Let us go and get your belongings.”

It was short work as Evelina did not have much, but Sara looked around the room, searching for clues, for anything to give a clue to who would do this. Whoever it was, knew how to return everything back to where things were, so he was smarter than your usual criminal. The sooner she’d get her away from this place, the better. Sara’s footman helped carry the trunk into the house and Sara brought her to the guest room. “You are free to stay as long as you wish. And I promise, I shall do what I may to figure out who did this.”

“No!” She quickly said, but then tried to explain, “I couldn’t drag you into this. What if this perpetrator is mad, a violent criminal?’

“It will take more than a pervert to stop me from helping you. Truly. And after all, if I intend to have my own agency to solve crimes, I will need the opportunities.” Taking her hands, she looked Evelina square in the eyes and said, “No woman should ever have to live in fear of being born a woman. And I meant what I said, we women must help each other. I am keeping my promise.” Giving a reassuring squeeze, she released her. “I’ll let you get settled in.” She turned to leave, but then stopped and turned back. “Oh, I nearly forgot. Tonight, a few men will be here to discuss a case.”

“You mean, John and Laszlo?”

“Yes, as well as the Isaacson Brothers. We are trying to solve the case of the murdered children. If you do not feel comfortable with the subject, you do not have to stay.”

“Thank you for the warning. At this point, there is not much I cannot handle.”

Evelina found herself situated perfectly and with enthusiasm hurried to join the gathering. All of them had arrived at the same time and were surprised to see an extra member of the group. “Evelina. You are joining us?” Laszlo asked, surprised.

“Evelina is staying with me indefinitely, so you shall see a great deal of her. And don’t worry John, I’ve already warned her of the nature of this case. No need to defend any ladies’ delicate natures tonight.” She teased, making him flustered. Evelina noticed and smiled, it was not difficult for her to see the attraction between the two.

“I shall get the tea,” Evelina offered, wanting to help as much as she could.

“Any news?” asked Marcus, as the team settled in their seats.

“Perhaps. Earlier today, a rock came hurling through a window of my institute, with this note attached.”

Sara took the note and looked at it. “Do you think he is closing in on us?” she asked as she passed the note along to the brothers.

“Who knows?” Laszlo said, taking the note back from Lucius once he was done examining it, stuffing it in his pocket, “But it unsettles me greatly to think he is close to my children.”

Evelina walked in at the last part and gave a quizzical look as she set the tray down. “Something is wrong with the children?”

“Thankfully no,” Laszlo answered, taking the teacup from her.

“Someone threw a rock through Laszlo’s window, we think it might be the killer,” Lucius filled in.

“No one was hurt, I hope?”

“One, he needed stitches, the others were just frightened, but they should never have been frightened in the first place. Which is why it is imperative that we close in on this murderer.”

The evening passed in a feverish haze; Lucius and Marcus sharing their lead, everyone eager to work out the possibilities, and Evelina was there, trying to help keep things neat for them to work efficiently. She wished she was cleverer to help in their case, to actually do something worthwhile. But she also knew that any little bit could help them figure out why such a madman would want to hurt children in such a terrible way. Her eyes pricked with tears and she had to turn away at one point to dab her eyes with her handkerchief. At least the end of the evening seemed to be satisfactory enough for everyone had left with newfound hope and eager to start the next day. Laszlo and John were the last to leave. Evelina watched with amusement of how Sara and John danced around their feelings, and she wondered if she and Laszlo looked that way. She did sympathize with John, for he clearly adored Sara and Sara seemed to feel the same, but held incredible restraint from her feelings.

Laszlo didn't talk much around Evelina, as if company made him shy, as if everyone was watching him. But she understood, he no doubt had his mind on the case and he spoke her given name when he bid her goodnight, making her mind settle as she worried she offended him in some way. Both ladies retired for the night, and as Evelina laid down, she tried to wrestle with the nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach. Will she really be safe with Sara? Should she tell the whole truth of what she knows?

Tagging: @monsieurbruhl @flutterskies @sokoviandelights, @cazzyimagines, @rumblelibrary, @fictionlandslanddreams, @violetmuses and @barnesxnobles. If anyone else would like to be tagged, please let me know!

#daniel bruhl #daniel brühl #the alienist #laszlo kreizler #fanfiction

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aiden21 · 3 years

Text

Video Games. Spinner x gn!Reader

Word count: 3.5k+

Slow days were a common occurrence for the League. Flashy, grand missions didn’t come by easily and most of the time the bar was empty except for Kurogiri. Most members of the League had homes—or at least places where they could sleep—and so, when Shigaraki dismissed everyone, most people just up and left the place. You were not one of those people.

Having lived under a bridge before joining the team of villains, the bar was the only place you truly had. Your possessions consisted of the clothes on your back and the small bed in one of the rooms upstairs, and that was it. You were thankful, always had been, that Shigaraki had been gracious enough to give you a place to stay, but that didn’t mean you didn’t get bored all by your lonesome from time to time.

You sighed, sinking deeper into the couch. The bar was deserted, Kurogiri having left with Shigaraki to meet with some person of interest, and the silence was pressing down upon you like a weighted blanket. You stared at the door longingly, putting all your mental strength into willing someone to open the door and join you. But if the past hour after returning from the store had taught you anything, your mental powers were absolute shit, and you were doomed to spend the rest of the day by yourself.

You knew a few people had some things strewn around the place, but nothing had truly caught your eye. No one read books that you found interesting, no one was childish enough to leave a board game lying around, and you valued your life enough to know that using the small handheld PSP that belonged to Shigaraki was out of bounds. You changed the channel on the TV once more, huffing in annoyance. God, you were so bored.

You glanced over at the clock on the wall, grunting when you realized it was only 4 in the afternoon.

“Screw it, I’m taking a nap.” You finally told yourself, shutting off the TV and getting up from the couch. You weren’t tired or sleepy, not even a little, but you figured that trying to rest a little was your best option at the moment. You dragged your feet up the stairs, already wrapping your mind around the fact that today would just be a very slow day and cursing yourself for not having a phone or a laptop or something to keep you entertained. But alas, you mourned as you reached for the doorknob of your room, you had no money of your own and you knew nothing about using technology in general.

“Goddammit!”

You stopped, your hand outstretched still. The voice had come from the end of the hallway and you were sure you weren’t imagining it. Was it a voice you recognized? Oh, who cares, you told yourself. You’d take a police officer at this point. You walked all the way to the end of the hall and knocked on the door to the common room the guys sometimes hung out in, fully expecting to get no answer, since the room was usually locked when Shigaraki was out; he valued his game consoles and trusted almost no one with them. Keyword here being almost.

The muffled noise of, well, something, stopped and you heard a hesitant ‘Yes?’. You cracked open the door, narrowing your eyes at the darkness and artificial lights that met you.

There, in the dark and with a game controller in his hand, was Spinner.

“Oh. Hi.” He said awkwardly, his face illuminated only by the glow of the TV in front of him.

“Hi,” You called back, glancing around the room but finding no other forms laying on the couches and chairs that adorned the game room. “I thought I was the only one here.”

“M-me too.” Spinner admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

There was a brief silence, Spinner not unpausing his game and you not quite coming inside the room. You two had never found much common ground to really sit down and talk, even though you both, unknowingly, wished you were closer.

“So… What’cha doing?” You asked, leaning against the door frame.

“I’m… playing video games.” Why did that sound so much like a question?

“What are you playing?”

“Grand Theft Auto.” He said, the name meaning absolutely nothing to you. You blinked once and Spinner sighed in defeat, his shoulders dropping. “It’s a... crime game, I guess.”

It was no big secret that Spinner was a massive game fan, a passion he only shared with Shigaraki. They’d both attempted to, sometimes, engage the other members of the League in conversation about their games (Spinner much more often than Shigaraki) but no one really understood a word of what they were saying. Toga said they weren’t cute, Dabi said they were boring, Magne always had better things to do, and Compress couldn’t use a computer to save his life. Still, Shigaraki loved games and movies and all that jazz, and thus one of the rooms on the second floor of the bar had been deemed the ‘game room’, furnished with comfortable seats, a massive TV, and various gaming consoles that anyone could use if Shigaraki was present, even if no one ever did. No one other than Spinner, Shigaraki’s only trusted teammate that had his own key to the room.

Because yes, villains can also have hobbies, hang out, and also share their gaming stuff with their friends. Or coworkers. Or whatever the League was to one another at any given time.

You hummed, balancing back and forth on your feet. You had no idea what the game was or how it was played, having never played a video game once in your entire life, something that Spinner didn’t actually know. He just believed you found them boring. He looked almost defeated, the way he always did when he asked one of the others if they wanted to play with him before getting rejected, and you hesitated at the door.

“...Can I stay here and watch you?” You asked in a soft tone, your expression hesitant.

It would probably be like watching a foreign movie with no subtitles, but it seemed like a better idea than just locking yourself in your room and staring at the wall for hours.

Spinner blinked once, twice, a bunch of times, his eyebrows going higher and higher up his forehead with each passing second. He fumbled around in his seat, mouth opening and closing, before abruptly speaking in a high voice.

“Sure! I mean it’s a room for everyone, right? Y-you don’t need to ask me or anything. I can go if you-”

You giggled, making his eyes go even wider, “It’s fine. I’m actually kinda curious about this whole ‘video game’ thing.”

You stepped into the room. The couch was big enough for four people to sit side by side comfortably, and you sat down around the middle, a polite distance away from Spinner. He was tightly pressed against the armrest, his once crossed leg now stiffly placed in front of him. You settled down and grabbed a cushion, hugging it to your chest.

It took a few silent seconds, but Spinner eventually unpaused the game. You blinked, your eyes following the tiny man in the middle of the screen as he walked around some unknown city, a few other things popping up on the screen.

“What’s that?” You asked, pointing at one corner of the screen. Spinner followed your finger, looking both amazed and scared.

“My money and health.”

“And that?”

“The map. So I don’t get lost, know where my missions are.”

“Do you have a mission right now?”

“Not right now. It’s an open-world game and you can pretty much choose the pacing of the story and such and…” He stopped himself, surely realizing that he’d already lost you. He cleared his throat and then, slowly, “We can do whatever we want, basically.”

“Anything?”

“Yeah.”

You looked at the screen, watching as the little avatar ran along the sidewalk, people and vehicles all around him. You eventually nodded towards the screen.

“Can you steal that car?”

“Which one?” Spinner chuckled a little, raising a brow.

“That red one, the one at the traffic light.”

Spinner nodded, his eyes far more serious than the situation called for. His avatar approached the vehicle and then opened the door, promptly throwing the driver out onto the street and easily taking the car. You laughed a little as Spinner drove away, curses from the car’s owner growing fainter as he made his escape.

“You fiend,” you teased, earning a proper laugh out of the mutant. “That was way too easy, though!”

“Well, then give me a challenge.” Spinner said, giving you a glance and a small smile.

“Steal a plane.” You said confidently, but Spinner scoffed.

“You’re thinking too small.” He said, relaxing back into his seat. You realized for the first time that he had none of his usual gear on, only a pair of black jeans and a white t-shirt, his hair pulled back in a very messy ponytail. You rarely saw him like this, chill and confident and secure and you found yourself really liking the way all of those things looked on the usually shy mutant.

You spent the next hour watching as Spinner attempted (and usually succeeded) whatever idiotic, ridiculous idea you could conjure up. You had him running from one side of the map to the other, stealing some things, blowing up a few others, spawning things in places where they didn’t belong, and generally just causing absolute chaos wherever he went.

You laughed like an idiot as you watched him play, your dorky laugh making Spinner laugh in turn. You didn’t know it, but every time you had a fit of laughter, his chest would swell with happiness and so he kept the antics coming one after the other, each stunt dumber and flashier than the last.

You were honestly enamored with just how many absurd things you could get away with in the game, and so your eyes stayed mostly on the screen. You pointed and things and made up dumb scenarios for Spinner to somehow accomplish, your smile only fading when you focused on trying to understand what he was doing at any given moment. Spinner’s eyes though? He kept glancing your way, thankful that he was familiar enough with the game to be able to look at you for a second or two without dying.

He was currently driving, having just explained to you how cheat codes worked, an explanation that you listened to with rapt attention even if you didn’t get all of the things he told you. He was excited and you were giddy with laughter and the both of you were honestly having a great time together. You settled back into the comfy couch with a dumb smile on your face, a small giggle escaping your lips.

Spinner paused the game, stretching his arms in a wide arch.

“I’m gonna go get some water, you want anything?” He asked you, already getting up from the couch.

“Water is fine,” You responded, smiling appreciatively up at him. He smiled back, suddenly unable to keep eye contact. He half-ran out of the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You still had the small, soft cushion in between your arms and you started running your fingers through its fluffy, black surface. This cushion had been brought home by Toga after one of her shopping sprees with Magne. It was soft and warm and you and Toga always fought over the damned thing on the rare occasions that you two watched movies together in the game room.

After a minute you stretched like a cat, groaning and readjusting your position on the couch to be more comfortable. Unknowingly, you’d scooted closer and closer to where Spinner had been sitting, and as soon as you noticed, you blushed, thankful that he wasn’t in the room at the moment.

Suddenly very aware of your surroundings, a light sense of anxiety came over you and you grabbed the closest thing you had in an attempt to distract yourself. Sure enough, it was the game controller. It was still a little warm, something that made you blush a tad more, and you turned it in your hands to examine it.

Truly inexperienced when it came to these kinds of things, you watched the object in your hands as if it was an ancient artifact of unknown origin and purpose. The buttons were marked with symbols and there was a light shining in the middle. You gave one of the triggers a try, liking the small clicking that came from it, and then, feeling braver, you pressed one of the buttons at random.

The game immediately unpaused, the scene going right back to where Spinner had left it before he left. You cursed, eyes wide in panic, as you attempted to pause the game again. But you couldn’t manage, and you were left with no other choice‪‬󠀥 than to try and control the car in the game. It was just a game, there was no need to act as if the world was ending, but the car was in the middle of the highway and you honestly didn’t want to look as useless as you felt in front of Spinner.

You guessed, correctly, that the little nub on the left of the controller steered the car, but you weren’t able to figure out how to make the damn vehicle accelerate for the life of you. The car behind yours crashed into your car and you cursed louder, feeling like a total idiot. Then you pressed who knows what and the little man on the game got out of the car and you wanted to throw the controller at the screen. Well, you told yourself, at least you could easily figure out how to walk in the game. This wasn’t that embarrassing a scene, in all honesty. Your confidence lasted all of three seconds before you were brutally reminded that the character had gotten off the car in the middle of a concurred highway, a semi plowing into the little avatar and sending his body flying through the air and into the other side of the road.

The image on the screen slowed and desaturated, the word ‘wasted’ flashing on the screen as, in the background, your character was run over by yet another car. The text was still on the screen when Spinner walked back through the door, his eyes immediately landing on your grand failure.

“What… happened?” He asked carefully, hyper-aware of your panicked expression. He placed two glasses of water down on the coffee table but didn’t sit down just yet.

You pointed at the controller as if the thing had committed murder, your voice getting higher and louder by the word.

“I don’t know! I pressed something and the game started and I couldn’t pause it and then the little guy thought it was a great idea to walk into traffic and he died and-”

Spinner snorted. He couldn’t help it, though he did have the decency to wave his hands in front of himself apologetically when you glared at him.

“Don’t laugh at me! I’ve never played a game before!”

“You never played one of these when you were a kid?” He asked, sitting on the armrest of the couch. He, too, had noticed how much closer to his spot you had gotten and he wasn’t quite confident enough to just sit down by your side.

You paused for a moment, bitterly self-conscious despite not wanting to be. You tapped at the controller with a fingernail, suddenly much quieter than before.

“I’ve… never played a video game before. Like, ever.”

Spinner’s eyes widened a bit, but it was soon replaced by a frown at your change in mood.

“Nothing?”

“We were too poor to afford anything when I was little, and then my parents kicked me out and well… I’ve never really had the chance.” You admitted, your eyes low. You tried not to bring up much about your past with the rest of the League, in part because you were a bit ashamed and in part because you knew most of them had had way worse childhoods than you. You honestly just didn’t like complaining, not now that you had so much to be thankful for. Those things were in the past, after all, and there was no point in being sad anymore, right?

You offered Spinner the controller once more, attempting to shake off your feelings to not ruin the mood. He took the controller from your hands but he didn’t sit back down, instead walking over to the TV. He paused the game again and shut off the PlayStation. You immediately started telling him that it was okay, that you were sorry, but you shut up when he threw a different, much smaller controller at you. The screen was only dark for a few moments before a different console was turned on and Spinner took his seat by your side with only a light blush dusting the skin under his scales.

“Let’s try something we can both play, shall we?” He asked you, already pressing around at the blue controller in his hand.

“You sure? You were having fun with the other game.” You pointed out, a weird feeling growing in your chest at the thought that you’d ruined Spinner’s fun. He chuckled, swallowed, and then looked at you for the briefest of moments.

“Well, I mean, it’s a good game, but… I was having fun with you, not the game, in particular, so yeah...” The last words were said in an embarrassed mumble and the feeling in your chest fell down into your stomach, turning warm and fuzzy. You smiled widely, settling down on the couch and crossing your legs. Your knee was resting on Spinner’s leg and, while you both noticed, neither of you said anything.

“What’s this one about?”

“You’ll see.”

--------------------------------------

Shigaraki and Kurogiri warped back inside the bar, the young leader of the League of Villains wanting nothing more than to lock himself inside his room, play some games, and then fall asleep. He turned towards the stairs but was met with an… odd sight if you will. Toga and Magne were standing at the foot of the stairs, both of them giggling like little girls.

“What the hell are you doing?” He asked, frowning as both women shushed him without any regard for who he was. He cursed under his breath and approached them.

“What?” He said, not as loud as before, but the answer presented itself before either woman could say anything.

From some room upstairs, he heard a clear scream of joy, followed by voices and laughter. He narrowed his eyes, glancing over at the two blushing morons at his side.

“We heard them when we got here ten minutes ago.” Toga giggled, her face more flushed than usual.

“Someone’s having a lot of fun up there~” Magne added, no attempt at hiding the implications of her words. Another high-pitched scream came from above and both women squealed.

Shigaraki moved a lot faster than he had in a while. He jumped the steps two at a time, following the loud noises of ecstasy and pointedly ignoring how Toga and Magne cursed him in your name, not quite managing to stop him. He flew down the hall like a demon out of hell, throwing open the door to the game room so hard that it bounced off the wall and left a small dent where the doorknob collided against the plaster. His red eyes were glowing with rage, his hands more than ready to turn whoever was fooling around in there into dust, but the scene that greeted him wasn’t quite the one he expected.

You were jumping on the couch, your arms raised in victory and a Switch controller in your hand. Spinner was sitting next to you, laughing carelessly and looking at you as if you were pure sunshine. On the screen, Yoshi had just won his first star in Super Mario Party.

“Did you see that!?” You asked Spinner, laughing as the mutant nodded, “I just got a star!”

“What the…” Shigaraki said, his stance deflating immediately. You turned towards him, a face-splitting grin adorning your face.

“Oh! Hi, Shigaraki! We’re playing Mario Party!” You pointed out, rather obviously. When Shigaraki didn’t react, you shyly got off the couch, assuming that he was angry at your outburst of energy. Behind him, Toga and Magne peeked into the room and started giggling like idiots.

“You wanna join? We’re almost done with this round.” You offered hopefully, plopping back in your place right next to Spinner, adding an inch of air between you two now that there were other people in the room. Likewise, Spinner removed the arm he’d had on the back of the couch, one that had been rather close to wrapping around your shoulders more than once.

“I wanna play!” Toga said cheerfully, running past Shigaraki and landing on her favorite beanbag, though not before reclaiming her cushion from your hands.

“Oh, me too! I wanna be Rosalina!” Magne said, choosing one of the reclining chairs near the back of the room, giving Toga a knowing look as they both left the couch only for you and Spinner.

“I call Princess Peach!” Toga added childishly, which made you laugh.

Shigaraki sighed like a man with no future, turned around, and promptly locked himself in his room for the remainder of the evening.

------------------------

Thanks for reading! If you liked it, consider supporting me on ko-fi. I do writing commissions and all that jazz!

#bnha x reader #bnha #boku no hero x reader #spinner #shuichi iguchi #league of villains #fanfic #drabble #x reader #just pure fluff #nice things #writing #fanfiction #spinner x reader #commission #illustrators on tumblr

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yandere-wishes · 4 years

Text

💔Rotten Love💔 //Twisted Wonderland Yandere Idia Shroud X Yandere Eliza X Reader// Part 1

GIF made by the amazing @flowerofthemoonworld. Okay, so this story is really going to have a Persephone x Reader x Hades vibe to it. If we can get this to 160 likes before July 12 than I’ll release part 2. For now, my goal is to make it a 4 part story with a bonus 5th fluff chapter. Also for this story reader will be GENDER NEUTRAL.

WARNING: Gore, Angst

💙 👻💙 👻💙 👻💙 👻💙 👻💙 👻💙 👻💙 👻💙 👻💙 👻💙 👻💙

There was always a cold, nostalgic air in the Ignihyde dormitory, a sort of homey sensation that made Eliza's heart skip a beat. Sure the dorm was quiet and secluded, unlike the ghost kingdom, there was barely anyone to talk to. Most may have even described it as "lonesome" and "boring". But to princess Eliza who had waited more than five hundred years to be with her prince charming, it was unadulterated, homespun bliss. Of course, there was still something missing, a tiny puzzle piece that refused to fit in with the rest of its kind, a stubborn little piece it was, yet all too important to paint the picture of her perfect life. That mulish fragment came in the form of her newly wedded husband, Idia Shroud.

"Idia~"

The "young" princess sang as she skipped over to where her "husband" was sitting, his posture crooked, like that of a scrunched up cat's. His long slender fingers where typing rapidly on that bizarre rectangular device that he all too attached to. Way too attached to, for Eliza's liking.

Eliza nuzzled her visage into the crook of the bleached-skinned boy's neck, taking in his smokey, ash-like sent. Her icy colored arms wafted over his shoulders, enclosing them his a tight embrace. Her fingers dangled over where his heart was, feeling tiny fast-paced pulses that sent a pleased blush to her face. "Idia let's go for a walk near that river. Please, my love! You haven't left this room since the reception!"

The taller male barely turned to look at her, preferring to instead to keep his eyes locked on his glowing blue screen. "Still busy Eliza" his cold dead voice was always so sharp and monotone whenever he spoke to her. It felt like someone was reaching into her rib cage and squeezing her decaying heart. Her voice cracked into a thousand tiny shards, as she tried to form a comprehensible answer. He might as well have told her to die again and rot in the deepest parts of hell. He doesn't love me....he'll never love me. The relation was like a heavy chronic toxic gas levitating overhead. Easy to overlook but still there, always there. Idia didn't move, if Eliza's arms weren't wrapped around his shoulders feeling every breath he took, she might have mistaken him for a statue. No, not a statue, she thought, some sort of sculpture of an ancient Greek God. A divine being set in stone resting in an altar, waiting for reparations and benedictions. 'I'd gladly pray at your feet every day. I'd sacrifice everything I had just for you to smile that charming smile at me'. The ghost thought to herself.

For an endless minute, the darkroom fell into a thick, suffocating silence. Neither Eliza nor Idia moved both too scared of breaking some invisible glass wall they had put up around them. However, no amount of serenity could dispose of the awkwardness, and annoyance Idia was beginning to feel. "You know" the lord of the dead began "maybe you should talk to the principle about join the school full time. It would give you more to do than breathing over my shoulder" despite Idia's tone harboring no malice, Eliza still flinched in shock. Her body going rigid, stiffening as if she was going into Rigor Mortis again.

HE DOESN'T WANT YOU HERE!

The voice in her head screamed,

HE HATES YOU!

Louder...

WHY CANT YOU LEAVE HIM ALONE

"Please stop" she whispered

YOU DON’T DESERVE YOUR PRINCE!

"If that's what you want" she finally replied in a broken voice.

"I'm... I'm only saying it for your sake," he muttered in a coaxing tone.

Deep down a delusional part of her wanted to scream that he was only saying all those harsh things for her own well-being. But she was still lucid enough to not believe those fallacies, imaginary words...Eliza perceived that her beloved prince Idia saw her as nothing more than a nuisance. One that he was far too eager to get rid of.

She couldn't bear the conversation any farther. Painfully slowly she peeled her arms off from around her so-called lover. In that taunting minute, Eliza swore she could feel billions upon billions of sharp needles piercing every piece of her dead body. She lingered in place staring at Idia's glowing, blazing hair. She didn't want to leave, she wanted to spend every second of her dead life with him! Touching him, kissing him, loving him! But he wouldn't love her! Why didn't he love her!! Without a customary goodbye or any form of acknowledgment, Eliza flew to the door. Swinging it open just a crack, wishing to slam it so hard that the whole underworld dorm would feel it. But alas she was still royalty and there was a politeness beaten into her every action. In the end after much debating, she closed the damn door quieter than a mouse. With a broken heart and eyes full of tears, princess Eliza began to hover up onto the surface of the school grounds.

WHY DOESN'T THAT SELFISH BASTARD LOVE ME!

A simple blaring thought that reverberated through Eliza's nonexistent skull as she marched through the glowing green halls of Night Raven College. Unlike Ignihyde, the rest of the school still felt rather alien and terrifying to the girl. She'd only been in the cafeteria for a short amount of time. Only to finish up her official marriage to Idia. After the marriage -and much persuasion from his friend with grey hair and glasses- Idia had carried Eliza in the traditional manner a groom must carry a bride, to the hall of mirrors and straight to Ignyhde. Neither of them had left Idia's room since then.

It was a rather short memory but one that always placed a smile on Eliza's face. Rather than remembering the halls, Eliza had been all too bewitched by Idia's shy golden gaze, his bloody red face, and his kissable thin blue lips. Such a darling memory that she would always cherish within her rotten heart.

But as the minutes ticked away and Eliza passed hallway after hallway all identical to one another, she soon began to wish that she'd paid more attention to the whereabouts of the school's rooms and offices. The headmaster's office seemed to be missing from this endless maze. Behind every corner was the same tiled floor, candles lit by a mystical green light and windows so large they put the countless classroom doors to shame. Every few minutes a crowd of students would pass by, disappearing behind another wall withing second. No one noticed her, which was rather odd considering she was the only female in an all-boys school, her purple dress and feminine curves were proof enough of that. "I guess this is the result of being a ghost, wandering the land of the living" She whispered hopelessly to herself. "You're invisible when you're me..."

The eighth turn that Eliza took brought her to a small cluster of peculiar students. Some donning ears and tails like those of wild beasts, while the other had odd features resembling Ortho's limps. Metallic and reflective. They were laughing at something, attentions enclosed within their small groups. A measly thought flew into Eliza's head, why not speak up? Raise your voice and ask where she could locate the headmaster of this complex establishment.

"Excuse me."

“....”

Silence

None of the boys turned to her, they just continued with there chatter. Eliza opened her mouth to speak once more when she -rather unwillingly- picked up stray words from their conversation.

"It's not fair!" A tall lanky one with striped ears and tail whined

"Yeah! How come that useless shut-in gets to get married to a cute girl !" the second one was even taller, with thick furry grey ears that reminded Eliza of a wolf.

"Look man I don't know what Idia has that makes him so damn lucky! He's a useless wimp..." A Bold statement made by the one with metallic features.

Eliza was sure they continued bashing Idia but the phantom pain of blood coursing through her ears droned them out. How dare such hooligans speak ill of her beloved husband! Her fingers flexed in a robotic-like movement, stretching open than closing once more. Around her tiny flame-like spirits began to materialize, cute and cheery with big eyes and smiling mouths...until they noticed the distress of their mistress. the tiny things took a look around, grasping the situation from the loud words of the boys as well as Eliza's grim expression. Slowly the little flames began to merge with one another. Fusing into a large ax with a burning end. The weapon floated down to her hand, positioning itself smugly between her ghostly digits.

Eliza's eyes locked with the backs of the boys, she didn't know how this would work, could the ax could even harm the living? It may just phase through them as if nothing had happened....or it may price through there flesh and bones, tearing them in two. Hosting the ax up over her shoulder with both hands and taking a shaky step forward, Eliza lunged towards the first boy. In a swift flick of her wrist, the blade of the ax was pushing through the Ignihyde student's back. Splitting ceaselessly at the skin and urging past muscles until it reached the creamy colored bones. Eliza didn't stop there, her arms still pushing forward trying to get the heavy ax to break those pesky osseins. He had to pay for what he said! No one was permitted to speak ill of her one true love! A satisfying crack filled the air followed by a choir of screams. Only when the ax had finally resurfaced on the other side, covered in plasma and the remnants of organs, did Eliza turned her attention to the other two students. There eyes where enormous staring at her in disgust and fear...and something else. Something that -although it revolted her to her very core- she wished Idia would look at her with that same look in his eyes. A look of want, a look of need, pure lust, yet the welcoming sort ONLY if it was coming from the person you adored so much.

The blue-haired ghost didn't move, her semi existent body felt overworked. Everything hurt! Or at least she thought what she was feeling was the ghost equivalent to human pain. "Why.." her voice glitched at every syllable, like a broken cassette player. The two boys didn't answer instead taking shall strides backward. "WHY DID YOU SAY SUCH AWFUL THINGS ABOUT HIM!" in a split second, anger over ran Eliza's boy once more, dragging her and the ax forward until the blade came in contact with one of the animal eared men's neck. Slicing it so it flung backward, crashing onto the ground with loud "thud" then rolling around in its own gore. The last man stand, the one with monochrome ears pushed his palms forward, a pathetic attempt of shielding himself from her wrath. "W-we..we d-d-did...didn't-t mean...mean any..offense...honest!" His voice creaked as tears gushed from the corners of his eyes. "You're...you're just so...so...pretty...beautiful even...and...and...Shroud well...we...well, he's a loser who w-w-wouldn't kno--" his words were left half-finished, as Eiza's ax severed through him diagonally.

Her heart was pounding much too fast, that it was beginning to make her feel sick. Her legs finally gave up, sending her crashing onto the blood coated floor. Her bare knees dug into the red liquidy substance, finding an odd comfort in the warm human ichor. Eliza didn't know what to do, or even where to go. If she went back to Idia like this he would surely use it against her, Ortho was too young to be introduced to such a carnage...and she didn't know anyone else! "I'm all so very doomed" she sobbed as transparent tears trailed down her eyes.

"Hey" A distant voice spoke up. "What's wrong with her?" another voice, this one more high pitch and raspy. Eliza tore her face from her hands looking up at a group of three strangers and a cat...no, not strangers, she recognized the orange and blacked haired boy. They both had tried to crash her wedding. But the other person was new, they had a gentle look in their eyes, a welcoming stare that the princess longed for. "Hey ghost bride," The orange-haired boy spoke up, "need some help with your mess?" Eliza nodded meekly. Her body still limp and voice still too frail to speak. The last person, the one that had unexpectedly piqued Eliza's interest extended a hand towards her. And with only a scrap of hesitation, Eliza gripped it.

"Come on, we'll help you out!"

💙 👻💙 👻💙 👻💙 👻💙 👻💙 👻💙 👻💙 👻💙 👻💙 👻💙 👻💙

Tags: @yandere-romanticaa @ghostiebabey @lovee-infected @mermaid-painter @firemelody4 also tagging @twstpasta and @delusional-obsessions cause I know they're huge Eliza fans.

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rosymorns · 3 years

Text

i’m going to love you as i know how

rosanna x adam (2.5k) -- domestic violence mention cw

They stumble in, giddy, tipsy. Kat doesn’t bother to click on a light, and at the moment, they don’t need one -- they’re not doing much looking, anyway. Kat crowds her against the sofa, lifts her up on the back so Rosanna has to hold onto her to avoid toppling. Her hands are up her skirt, thumbs drifting along the lace panels of her underwear.

The lace is nice, but the fun part’s in back. Straps and things. Uncomfortable for a night out, but worth it for this ideal end to a night out.

Kat’s lips at her neck, and Rosanna lets out a high moan. It’s a little forced, but she’s learned by now that it gets people going. It’s been like holding her breath, these last few months. Denying herself this. Fingers and toys get the job done on a technical level but it is nothing like this -- like having someone starved for you, and being able to serve yourself up to them. Being wanted. Having someone grateful for your presence and everything you do.

And why had she even bothered withholding? Because of something timid and tender and foolish in her, whimpering out that this wasn’t what it wanted? She’d been led astray by that voice before.

Rosanna pulls back, pushes Kat a step away, and then gestures to another sofa, outlined in moonlight. “Sit,” she says. And Kat obeys.

There’s the rush, there’s the flutter. The way Kat’s looking at her: so, so hungry -- so ready for what happens next. This is what she wants.

Rosanna clicks on a little table lamp by the door, finally, and the room is cast in dim creams instead. And then she undresses. Little black velvet mini dress. She tosses it on the floor in a way that is meant to look carefree but is actually quite deliberate. She doesn’t want to have to spend time searching for it when she sneaks out in a few hours. This is an old dance and she knows its steps without thinking about them.

She takes it slow as she makes her way to where Kat’s sitting. Turns in the right way to give her a good view of a very carefully chosen bra-and-pantie ensemble. Then she climbs into her lap, guides her hands to her hips so she can feel the fun bits -- the straps, the lace, the warmth of her skin where it peaks through.

This is what she wants.

Isn’t it?

From the console table by the door where she’d dropped her purse, her phone rings as if on cue. Rosanna straightens. “Let me just make sure that’s nothing important.”

It’s a little awkward, standing in dull silence in a near-stranger’s living room, dressed down to her intimates. The phone stops ringing as she reaches it, and she wakes the screen.

It’s 11:15PM. She has three missed texts and a missed call. All from Adam. And normally she might pull an annoyed face, snort derisively, toss it back into her bag and get back to business. Right now, she just stares at the messages. The last one, the only one the notification shows, reads, “Where are you?”

“Everything okay?” Kat asks, worry and anxiety high notes in her voice.

It isn’t. This isn’t what she wants. She wants it to be. She wants it to be so badly. This love in bite-sized pieces is so easy to swallow. She barely even needs to open her mouth to take it. And she’d been able to subsist on it for so long -- full up on crumbs. Why, now, does the thought of it make her stomach heave?

Rosanna blinks, shakes her head. “It -- I think so, but this does unfortunately need my immediate attention.”

“Oh.”

“I’m really sorry, honey.” She stands between Kat’s knees and tips her chin up to kiss her. “I’m gonna need a rain check.”

“Sure.”

“I’ll make it up to you. Promise.” And she collects her dress, pulls it back on. In a single motion, she collects her purse with one hand and the heels she’d kicked off by the door with the first too fingers of the other hand, and then she breezes out without so much as a pause.

Wayhaven has largely not changed since she was a teenager. Especially in the dark, where new signage and missing trees are obscured. The smell of cooling concrete and the feel of dewy grass is the same, and the night symphony is the same, and the streetlamps cast the same orange glow. For a while, walking home, she is almost sixteen again. Tender, timid, and foolish.

She’s peeling the seed out of whirlybird when her phone rings again, and she drops the debris into the grass. Answers it with a curt, “What?”

“Rosanna.”

There’s a half-second of tempest in her at the sound of Adam’s voice. Happiness, longing, relief, warmth -- and then disgust, self-hatred, anger. Flickering back and forth, on and off. Puppy-dog joy and repulsion at the fact that she would feel that way about anyone.

She swallows it down, and her voice remains neutral: “What do you want, Adam?”

“Are you safe? Where are you?”

“Walking home.”

“Where?”

She sighs into the receiver. “Uh, approaching the corner of Maple and Church.”

And the line goes dead, so she walks on in silent dread. She wants to see him. She always wants to see him. The world grows a bit quieter when he’s there, everything still and safe. Her heart leaps at the thought of it. Puppy-dog joy. But she’s raw, now. Fragile and red.

She doesn’t think she could take it, being near him. She couldn’t take the drip-drop from the bathtub faucet at Kat’s -- so like hell can she handle a tsunami. Submerged in everything pouring out of him, all that might-be-love, and then grabbed by the scruff of her neck and yanked back up to surface. Might-be -- is-not, could-never-be.

“Jesus Christ, get a hold of yourself,” she whispers, and stops walking, stands in the shadow of a streetlamp with a knuckle pressed to her forehead. This is the voice of the mother she wishes she’d had. This is the woman who picked a scared teenager off the kitchen floor and sat her on the toilet seat and leaned close to the mirror to patch a split lip and smear bruise cream on a swelling cheek.

And she lies. This woman lies, and she’s a very good liar. She lied to nurses and doctors in the emergency room about stairs and car doors and clumsy, silly accidents. She lied to police officers, hiccuping sobs and feigning ignorance. And she lies to herself, sometimes, insisting this is what you want. But beneath the lies, this is the woman who keeps herself safe, even when it’s warm and the frogs in Cherry Park across the street are so loud, just like they used to be, just like summer nights before this Rosanna ever had need to exist.

One moment, she is alone, gazing out over the street lamps that dot the pavement trails crisscrossing the park, looking a little like the lonesome stars of a city sky. One of the last poems she’d ever penned, before she’d lost so much feeling in her heart that no blood came out when she tried to squeeze it over paper, had been about the stars in the city. Maudlin, clumsy verse. There are so many more stars in Wayhaven, with no light to drown them out. Out on full display with no shadow to shrink in to.

One moment, she is alone, and the next Adam is there. Falling in step beside her.

“What’s so urgent?” Rosanna says. Her fingers clench where they’re carrying her shoes by the heels, a proxy for a clenched fist. From the corner of her eye, she can see him examining her. She probably smells like alcohol. She wonders if she smells like Kat’s perfume. She wonders what conclusions he’s drawing.

“What’s urgent? Detective, you were missing for hours. No one knew where you were -- you didn’t answer your phone -- we thought something had happened --”

She holds up a hand to stop him and, surprisingly, he does. They walk on in silence for a moments, and then he exhales a tense sigh. “I say ‘we’ -- I mean ‘I’.”

“We don’t have to do this tonight.” She swallows, then laughs, weakly. “I say ‘we’ -- I mean ‘you’.”

“I don’t catch your meaning.”

“I don’t have it in me right now, Adam. I just deal with it, normally, everything you say and take back -- every time you --” She sniffs, hard, and scolds herself: you are not going to fucking cry in front of him. “But I can’t do it tonight, okay? So if you’ve got to follow me home, can you shut up and stay a foot away from me while you do?”

And, surprisingly, he does. The five minutes back to her townhouse are blessedly silent. The front room lights are on, the door left cracked. When she pushes at it experimentally, she finds it has been forced open, the strike plate torn out of the threshold. And she tenses, preparing herself to deal with having been burglarized, before Adam clears his throat: “I will have it fixed.”

“This was you?”

“I thought -- I was worried. Your car was here and you weren’t answering --”

She brushes her finger over the latch, and shakes her head at the unexpected fondness that overcomes her. Novel, to be worried after.

“I apologize, Rosanna.”

“I’m not upset.”

The silence between them is heavy as she stands in the kitchen and mixes herself a drink. Adam wants to leave desperately, she’s sure of it. Part of her wants him to leave desperately, too. She wants to curl up on the sofa and cry, and she can’t do that while he’s here. Because it would make him uncomfortable, and she loves him, and she doesn’t want to do anything that would make him uncomfortable. Because she doesn’t know what it would mean if he wanted to stay -- because she can’t remember the last time a hand that wasn’t hers has brushed tears from her cheeks.

“I admit, I thought you would be angrier.”

“I’m sure I will be in the morning. I’m just a bit lost in memory tonight.”

“Oh?”

The clink of her spoon against the glass slows a little as she leans against the kitchen island. “The first time things got bad with my husband, I locked myself in the bathroom. I thought I could just wait until he cooled off and then we could talk.” She taps the spoon against the edge of the glass to shake the last drops off, then tosses it in the sink. “But he kicked the door in. We never got it fixed. It was still broken when I sold the house. So it’s funny, to have another man I love break another door open -- just this time it’s because he wants to protect me.”

She glides over to the sofa and curls herself up on it, and her eyes settle on Adam, tense, stock-still. Love. Not a word she’d meant to say. It feels cruel, to heap something so heavy on someone who has told her time and time again that he does not want her. So she smiles, a little watery and wavering, and shakes her head in an attempt to be casual and reassuring. “Sorry. I’m talking too much. You don’t have to stay. I’m just going to finish this and go to bed.”

She’s holding on to herself white-knuckle. Vicious dog on a short leash. Please go, she thinks. Don’t make me let you see me like this.

She looks away then, down at the opaque peach of her drink, waiting for his silhouette to disappear from her periphery.

“Would you like to be alone?” Adam asks.

Would she?

Forever?

Does she have a choice?

No one has ever wanted her as more than a thing in lingerie. And being a thing hurts now. Prying open her mannequin mouth to take crumbs and crumbs and crumbs in exchange for being touched, in exchange for touching, hurts. They go down like hot ash.

She wishes she could want the cinders. She could never earn love, but lust was a fine enough substitute. In the dark, for a few minutes, it feels like love.

But she’s hollow, she thinks. If she were to beat on her chest, it would ring like a bell. Cold and empty and of no substance. A few breadcrumbs tumble over each other, down in her feet, when she walks -- but nothing could fill her up. And now that her molars have grown together, nothing will.

Do you want to be alone? She doesn’t. She desperately doesn’t. She wants to be something worth love. She wants to be a cherished trinket, held in a pocket, kissed for good luck. Warm to the touch, for being clasped in a hand so often. Plastic is still cold after you skim your fingers over it.

She flinches when his hand comes into view, pulling the glass cupped between her fingers with strange delicacy for a man so strong. He moves slowly, as if she would startle. Or maybe to give her time to tell him to stop.

She doesn’t. Hands free, her fingertips mere inches from him where he kneels before the sofa.

She’d once sat at the kitchen table with mascara running down her cheeks, hands trembling, as she made plans to bring about her husband’s death. She had thought at the time, fatalistically, that she might as well do it, because it wasn’t as though things could get any worse.

She finds herself thinking the same thoughts again. He doesn’t love her. He would tell anyone who would listen -- he does not love her. She is not a thing deserving of love. But he’s there before her, anyway, inches from her open palms. The worst that could happen, if she reached for him, is that he would pull away. Doesn’t he already always pull away? It isn’t as though things can get any worse.

So she reaches for him. She rests her fingers against the fabric of his shirt, over his shoulders, close to his neck. And she hardly even has to pull him towards her.

She expects the leash to snap, for the cracks in the dam to burst. Instead she finds the blood rushing in her ears goes quiet, and the world goes still, and all she can think for a moment is: this is what you want.

#i'm not sure how i feel about this one other than 'well it certainly is finished'#this is 2.5k words of rosanna being sad. adam is at best a supporting character.#and. again. i didn't edit or do more than a cursory proofread so if you find something that sounds weird. no you didnt ♥#carly.txt #carly writes #carly's ocs #oc: rosanna

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astarryon · 4 years

Text

1980s Horror Film

No Good Deed

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: typical criminal minds stuff

Chapter Summary: You’re beginning to think your unadulterated hatred for unknown phone calls is actually justified.

A/N: The first installment of my Halloween inspired mini series! This fic was dreamt up during a very long, very intoxicated conversation with @johnmulaneyslut and my mind hasn’t been able to focus on anything else since! I hope y’all enjoy, and if you want me to add you to this fic’s masterlist, shoot me an ask or a message!

Masterlist

—

“There are horrors beyond life’s edge that we do not suspect, and once in a while man’s evil prying calls them just within our range.”

- H.P. Lovecraft

—

The agents were starting to get on your nerves.

There really wasn’t any good reason for it. They were being perfectly kind — when they bothered to talk to you like you were actually in the room, that is, though with three other victims of the deceased variety and a serial killer actively gunning for you, you figure you shouldn’t take that too personally — and the one named Jennifer had asked more times in the last hour than anyone else in your life had in maybe, well, ever if there was anything she could get you. You declined each time, sometimes rudely, sometimes in defeat, but that never stopped her coming back to ask again. When this was all over — and you prayed that an end would come quickly, if only so you could go back to not being quite so on edge — you’d need to be sure to thank her for all her efforts to make you comfortable.

But that wouldn’t come until later, when you were safe, and each of the agents in the behavioral analysis unit of the FBI didn’t pause every six seconds to analyze you in some attempt to figure out the psyche of the serial killer gunning to cut you open. In some ways, you understood — you were, currently, the only direct key they had to understanding how the serial killer who was after you selected his victims, though it wasn’t like you could answer any of the questions they had about the matter. Just because you understood, though, didn’t make the wandering eyes any less irritating, and you were counting yourself lucky that they were all just about to head home for the night so you wouldn’t have to worry about snapping in the next few hours.

“Okay,” Jennifer began as she approached, yet another kind smile occupying her features. “I’m stepping out for the night. The rest of the team will be leaving shortly, but our colleague Agent Anderson won’t be far. If there’s anything he can do for you, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

You try for a small smile of thanks, but it’s hard to say whether it reaches your eyes. Judging by the poorly concealed concern in Jennifer’s gaze, you don’t think it does. “Thanks, but I’m all set. I already got this cozy cot set up in your boss’ office. What more could a girl ask for?”

Jennifer frowns, something like guilt tightening her perfect features. “I know the situation isn’t ideal, but this is—“

“The safest place for me to be, especially since this psycho likes to strike at night,” you sigh, unable to help a dejected roll of your eyes. “I know. I’m grateful, truly, but this still isn’t exactly what I would call great.”

“We’re gonna catch him,” Jennifer assures you. She sounds so resolutely positive that you’re inclined to believe her, even though there’s the issue that they still can’t even tell you who he is. “Just… try and get some rest tonight, okay? You’re safe here. I’ll have whoever from the team leaves last come check on you one last time before they head out. Good night.”

“Night,” you tell her, and she smiles one last time at you before heading out the office door, once again leaving you to your lonesome.

You should try to get your mind off it, you know. Thinking of something else was imperative to getting to sleep for the night, and though that was the last thing on your mind right now, trying to wind down was certainly more productive thank sinking into your own body numbing panic. Unfortunately, that was easier said than done, and now that you were by yourself, you had all the time in the world to think.

Someone wanted you dead. Someone out there in the world, someone you’d had contact with in your daily life, someone wanted to kill you. You hadn’t managed to get much information out of anybody — There’s no point in working yourself up over it, Jennifer had told you. You’d wanted to scream at her, tell her she’d be of a different opinion if she was the one whose life was hanging in the balance, but you’d managed to hold yourself back. Though you had every excuse in the book to lose your cool, she didn’t deserve you your verbal abuse. Even in your state of frightened paranoia, you could recognize that none of this was her fault.

Why this was happening to you, you didn’t know. You wished you did. If whatever was making you a target for the rampaging serial killer was something changeable, you’d take care of it in a heartbeat. If it was the way you dressed, you’d fix it. If it was your willingness to be kind to strangers, you’d be meaner. Anything, anything to get you out of this terrifying mess. Anything that meant you got to go home and sleep in your own bed and not have to worry about whether someone was going to break in to your apartment and—

“Are you doing okay?”

The gentle voice startled you out of your reverie, though you couldn’t help flinching out of reflex at the sudden intrusion despite how quietly it had been spoken. Blinking yourself back into focus, your eyes shot over to the door, where you found the tall, lanky frame of one of the BAU agents taking up space in the doorway. The one with softer features than the rest, though you didn’t know whether that spoke more to his youth or his naivety. The one with a certain boyish quality about him that you couldn’t quite place, though he carried his head high and had a surprisingly confident set to his jaw, one that contrasted directly with the sheepish, almost bashful tone of voice he’d had when speaking to you. The one whose name you couldn’t quite recall, which was a testament to the ordeal you’d been through in the past few hours because you’d never be careless enough to forget the name of such a beautiful man on any regular day.

The itch of tears trailing down your skin brought you back to your senses, and as you reached up to swat them away, you realized there was no way he hadn’t seen them. “Just peachy,” you snarked, instantly feeling badly over the tone you’d taken. Whatever; there was nothing to be done for it now, and you could agonize over your rudeness when a pretty stranger wasn’t busy witnessing your terror. “Really just having the time of my life. Can’t you tell?”

And you swear if you concentrate, really concentrate, you can just make out the ghost of an amused smile curling the corners of his lip upward in response to your bitter attempt at sarcastic humor, but it quickly becomes overshadowed with concern at spying the tears still brimming in your eyes. “Sorry to interrupt it,” he murmurs, stepping out of the entrance and closing the door behind him, and something about his tone is so meaningful that you believe he’s genuine. He detours by the desk at the far side of the room to pick up the box of tissues sitting on its corner before making his way over to you and setting them on the filing cabinet just beside your cot. “I’m Dr. Spencer Reid. Agent Jareau asked if I would check in on you before I went home for the night.”

You blink, reaching for a tissue and wiping the rest of your tears away, thankful that this man is kind enough not to force you to talk about your emotional state. At his introduction, though, you pause, the familiarity of the name taunting at something in your mind. “You… you’re the one who called me. Before.”

Spencer nods leaning his weight against the filing cabinet he’d set the tissues on and absentmindedly tucking a particularly unruly strand of hair behind his ear. “That was me,” he confirms, leveling another kind smile your way. “I, um, I was actually the one to get you out of your house, too, but… I mean, you were pretty upset, so you might not remember much of that.”

The unfortunate truth, actually, was that you remembered Spencer collecting you from your home and escorting you into the protective arms of the FBI a little too well. More specifically, you remembered having nothing short of a mental breakdown on the phone at the news that a serial killer was targeting you, looking to murder you in some horrible, awfully gruesome manner, and all for some reason that Dr. Reid had declined to inform you of over the phone. He’d been kind enough to talk you through all your debilitating paranoias, kind enough to stay on the phone with you until he’d gotten to your home with his partner — Morgan, if you remembered correctly — and rushed in to make sure you were in one piece. Though he’d told you on the phone that they were just outside, though he’d warned you that they’d be coming in to collect you and take you into protective custody, you’d still lost your mind at the sight of a stranger in your home and immediately rushed him, kicking and screaming and begging for your life, your safety, your… well. Everything, really.

Luckily for Spencer, you were a horrible right hook and ended up doing more damage to yourself than to him, but unluckily for you, you’d been out of your mind in that moment, and had lost the impulse for self preservation. Spencer had calmed you down and restrained you long enough to stop your attempts at gouging his eyes out in self defense, but every last bit of composure you’d been clinging to instantly vanished, and you’d been left a bawling mess, falling apart in the loose, awkward embrace of his arms as you begged him not to let anything happen to you, as you desperately implored him to keep you safe.

More than a little embarrassing once you’d managed to calm down, to say the least.

“Right,” you muttered, dropping your eyes to the floor. It was nothing against Spencer, with his kind eyes and reassuring expression, but you were just about at your wit’s end, here, and you really didn’t have enough composure left in you to be the sweet, dainty girl you assumed he’d enjoy interacting with. “Well, all things considered, I’m just fine. So, if that’s all…”

Instead of taking the hint, instead of leaving you to your solitude and allowing you to wallow in your misery, Spencer simply readjusted his position against the filing cabinet and folded his hands together. “I’m… Look, I don’t mean to pry, but you’re crying, and I… kind of get the feeling that when you say you’re fine, you’re not really telling me the truth.”

“An astute observation, Dr. Reid,” you muttered, wringing your hands together. “Really, someone ought to give you a medal.”

“Well, if you wouldn’t mind passing that along to my boss,” Spencer chuckles, and the gentle joke is so at odds with the defensiveness that anyone else would have responded with that it practically jolts you into civility. By the time you realize this, he’s already shifted from the filing cabinet to sitting at the edge of your cot. Not quite close enough to invoke feelings of familiarity, but just enough to let you know that if you want to, you can confide in him. And, it’s silly, but you kind of think you want to. “So… you don’t have to tell me why you’re crying—“

“Oh, thank you for the permission.”

“— but if you want to,” Spencer presses on, “I’m here to listen. No offense, but I imagine pretending nothing’s bothering you gets to be exhausting after a little while.”

“You’d be the expert,” you sigh, crossing your arms over your chest, but you turn more fully to face where Spencer’s seated himself.

He was being kind to you — that alone was reason enough to grasp at some manners and stop being so defensive, but there was another, more personally beneficial one as well. Jennifer had been awfully tight lipped about the man pursuing you — who he was, what he did to his victims, why he was so interested in you. But… Spencer wasn’t Jennifer. Spencer also felt kind of bad for you. Taking all that into consideration, maybe he would be more willing to give you the answers you were looking for.

More willing, and more interested.

“You know, I do have a few questions” you begin, hugging your legs to your chest and tucking your chin against your knee. You wondered if you looked as small and pathetic as you felt. “I don’t… know that you’d be willing to answer any of them, though.”

Spencer arches a brow at you, and you subconsciously take note of the way that his eyes narrow the slightest bit, though it’s hard to tell whether that’s fascination or a sweeter kind of curiosity. “Well, I can’t try to answer them until you try asking them.”

Alright, well. Worth a shot at least.

“I was wondering...” You trail off and set your jaw, clearing your throat before trying again. “I want to know about the man who’s trying to kill me.”

—

#spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #cm #mgg #matthew gray gubler #mini series #this fic is partially inspired by the songs 1980s horror film and drunk on halloween by wallows #tis the season i guess #mystery #angst #thriller

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secretly-a-cold-blooded-murderer · 4 years

Text

Good News...? (Harry Styles x Reader)

Warning: Angst

A/N: It would be nice to hear your views on the fic :-)

Summary: Harry wants a baby, you don’t. Angst ensues.

“So, when are we hearing the good news?” Your husband’s aunt asked you excitedly. You barely stopped yourself from retorting something that would most certainly tarnish your reputation amongst your in-laws.

This was not the first time someone had asked the two of you about having a baby and you knew this would definitely not be the last.

“Hopefully sometime soon, auntie.” Your husband let out a little laugh.

You turned your head towards him, your eyebrows furrowed as if asking him a question; one that he didn’t seem to catch as he continued talking to his relative.

You left his side to look for something other than champagne to drink, murmuring a little excuse me and passing a smile to his aunt who had now moved on to tell your spouse about her friend who recently had a miscarriage because she and her husband got pregnant too late.

You walked towards the kitchen, swiftly passing by all the other guests before they got the chance to say hello. You had lost all your cheery mood, and could not be bothered to act more proper.

The kitchen seemed to be the only place in the entire house which was somewhat empty. You beelined towards the fridge, champagne was too light to help you go through this evening, you needed something heavier.

Opening the fridge, your eyes immediately fell upon the lonesome bottle of vodka sitting in the back. You looked around the kitchen, making sure no one was paying attention to you and pulled out your soon-to-be lifeline.

“Rough night?” You turned around at the sudden voice, only to find your mother in law staring back at you, her foot lightly tapping against the floor.

You made a sound of frustration, “Why the only thing they have to talk about is babies?”

Anne’s face softened at your complaint like she understood your concerns, she was there once.

“They are just intrusive people who have nothing better to do, your eyes raised at Anne’s blunt statement; noticing your expression she raised her hands, “You know it’s true, they did the same when I first got married, seems like they found a new target in you.”

Anne took the bottle of vodka from you and poured it in two shot glasses, sliding one to you.

“So, what do I do?”

“Just smile and nod, occasionally let out a little laugh, that’s really all you can do. Anne’s advice didn’t help to ease your mind but at least now you knew she was on your side. The truth is it wasn’t the relatives’ words that were bothering you, it was Harry’s.

You tipped your head back and drank the shot, feeling the burn run down your throat. That definitely helped.

“Thanks, mum now I guess I have to go find my hubby.” You left the kitchen, a little more prepared to take on your inquisitive relatives.

“Y/n where were you? I was looking all around.” Harry clasped your elbows and pulled you aside.

“I was just in the kitchen looking for a drink, then I started talking to mum.” Harry started to say something—

— “Hey lovebirds, what are you doing here hiding in a corner?” Harry and you moved apart a bit and found Harry’s other aunt grinning at both of you.

You both looked around the room and almost everyone was now turned towards the lot of you.

“Honey, I think we all know when a married couple is hiding in a corner there can only be two things they must be doing,” uncle Matthews claimed loudly, a slight slur in his voice, but face lit up with excitement.

Aunt Matilda’s forehead wrinkled in confusion as she tilted her head to the side, figuring out the meaning of her husband’s implications, her expression soon morphed into a big smile, “They can either be fighting or be doing the complete opposite,” she waggled her eyebrows in suggestion, “Which one is it, dearies?”

Uncle Dan tilted his head back and let out a boisterous laugh, which prompted everyone else to join him, some people even started cheering.

You plastered a big smile on your face, nodding a little; you made sure to chuckle occasionally, and then kept your head downwards, not even meeting eyes with Harry until everybody went back to mingling with each other.

But Aunt Matilda remained by your side the entire evening, thankfully now indulging in and asking you about your work, and you were extremely happy to oblige.

“So you’re now the head at your office?

“Yeah, I got a promotion only a few months ago. The hours have definitely increased but we make it work, right Baby?” Your eyes met Harry’s green ones. Your mind was a lot more calm, even with a shot of vodka running through your bloodstream.

“Of course. I am so proud of her,” his dimples more prominent than it had been the whole evening.

“Aww look at the two of you, so cute,” she reached forward and grabbed each of your and Harry’s hand, “Have you both decided on getting pregnant yet? don’t you think it's time?"

You almost rolled your eyes, no matter where you went, it seemed impossible to escape the baby question.

You pressed your lips together and left the question for Harry to answer, “Yeah, hopefully, we'll have good news real soon," the dimples didn't leave Harry's face at all.

She turned towards you, as if to confirm Harry's statement, you pulled your cheeks back in a smile and nodded lightly.

Her eyebrows raised a little in surprise, a big smile graced her lips, "Well that's lovely," She brought her hands up to cover her mouth, "Oh, can you imagine a little Harry running around the house?"

Harry, still smiling, nodded along. While you cast your eyes sideways and around the room until they landed on Anne.

Anne tossed her head backwards in greeting and you passed her a pleading look, directing her eyes to the still talking Aunt Matilda.

Anne shook in silent laughter, relating to your situation a little too much. She nodded her head and walked away.

Your parted your lips, unsure of Anne's plan. But guessed she had experienced pesky relatives enough times to learn how to deal with them.

Your guesses were confirmed when Anne's voice called out to everyone that dinner was set up. You lifted your head upwards and thanked your stars but most importantly, your mother in law.

Aunt Matilda left to join the rest of the family.

Harry offered his elbow to you, his back completely straight, "Shall we go for dinner m'lady?" He asked in a posh accent.

You laughed at the goofball but declined the dinner, you couldn't take any more of his family.

His forehead crinkled, "But why?"

You hated lying, especially to your husband, "I am not feeling well, I guess" you shrugged your shoulders, guilt slowly creeping up on you.

His eyes softened as he brought his hand closer to the side of your face and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, "Okay, you go rest upstairs, I'll deal with the fam."

You pressed your lips tightly to not make a noise, but you were still shaking, trying not to burst out laughing, "fam?"

Harry moved his lips into a pout, a red tint making an appearance on his cheeks, shut up.

You placed a kiss on his left cheek and made your way up the stairs, leaving him standing in the middle of the room.

You were still smiling when you entered the second room to the left and were instantly met with all the posters from when Harry was a kid. You glanced at each one by one, your attention then taken by his old Manchester United t-shirt hung on the wall.

You opened the window and sat down on the bed, finally away from all the people. You loved this room the best out of all in the entire house. It showed Harry's true essence; he still had his old model cars lined neatly on the shelf, along with pictures of his old mates.

The room was filled up to the brim with silence and the smell of Chinese food from next door lingered in the air. You felt calm.

The door opened with a little creak, you turned to see Harry entering his room. He placed himself next to you and lied down, taking you with him. Together you both laid on a single bed surrounded with trinkets from Harry's childhood.

It was probably very late in the night and you were still awake. Harry's breath tickled your neck, but you didn't want to disturb him. His statements from earlier this evening came back to you.

You were wondering if Harry had been wanting a child but didn't say anything. You also got worried imagining why he didn't tell you. But most importantly, were you ready for a child?

Before you realised, sunlight filtered through the room and Harry was up. As he was getting dressed, you feared for the conversation you were about to bring up.

"Wake up, sweetie. It's almost time for breakfast," Harry whispered by your ear. You couldn't wait any longer.

"H, Do you want to have a kid?"

Absolute silence surrounded you.

"Harry talk to me. Please." You were on the verge of begging to get him to say something, anything. But you were with nothing.

Harry let out a sigh and sat down on the bed. You got up from your lying position and brought yourself next to him.

"Yes, I do. I really do." A lone tear ran down his left cheek. He immediately wiped it away.

"Why didn't you tell me before?" You didn't know why you asked this question, you both knew the answer.

"Because I wasn't sure if you were ready," he turned his body towards you, you could see he was holding his breath and his eyes were slightly widened, "Are you?"

You closed your eyes, you were turning in your bed the whole night thinking exactly about this. You then met his eyes, they were waiting eagerly for your answer, "No."

Harry let out the breath he was holding, and looked down for a moment before rejoining your previously held eye contact, "Why? I remember very clearly that we talked about kids before getting married, why are you refusing now?"

His voice was increasing in volume with every word, "I didn't say anything for the longest while, hoping maybe one day you will, and now you are saying that you don't want to have kids." He stood up from the bed and you could see his hands were now clenched into a fist.

You were really nervous, you didn't expect this reaction from Harry, he was usually such a calm person, "I am not saying that I don't want to have kids ever, but you have to understand Harry, things have changed. I am the head of my firm now and you are away on tour for months on end,"

You stood up as well, your volume was now matching his, " How are we supposed to raise a kid when we are not there to raise the goddamn kid?" You took deep breaths to calm yourself and made a mental note to not raise your voice moving forward, shouting at each other wouldn't help anybody.

"Every couple in the world figures it out, we will as well. I want to have my own baby, Y/n, what am I supposed to do?" his voice was barely audible now, his shoulders slumped and he sat back down on his bed, "What am I supposed to do?"

You didn't have an answer so you just stood there, hoping for a miracle to happen while the silence once again engulfed you two.

"Harry, Y/n breakfast is ready," Anne's voice interrupted the uncomfortable silence between you. You thanked her in your mind, she had lately become a saviour for you.

Harry and you walked down the stairs to join Anne in the dining room, the silent tension following you.

During the entirety of breakfast, Anne was the only one talking. There was no chance she hadn't heard your fight. This was a small house and you both were being pretty loud.

She filled in you two about the events of last night's dinner, which weren’t in the least bit interesting and she ended up just describing what each member of the family was eating.

You two were eager for this temporary distraction and let her go on and on about essentially nothing, "You know how Mike is allergic to mushrooms? So, when he started removing them from his chicken, Aunt Matilda scolded him to finish his dinner as if he were a kid," Anne laughed.

You stopped eating your pancakes for a moment to fake a laugh for her sake. she was helping you get through the breakfast, the least you could do was meet her halfway as she was bullshitting through a story.

Soon after breakfast, it was time for you both to return to your place in London. Frankly, you were dreading the trip back home. You would rather live in your husband's childhood home for a few more days than suffer through a 3-hour journey in your current situation.

Unfortunately, you had a life to get back to, so an uncomfortable long drive was the only option.

Harry stood up to prepare for the trip back home. Anne stopped you before you could leave as well, "You okay?" her eyes were soft and full of concern for you, "I heard the fight, will you be okay going back home right now?"

Your heart filled up with love for the woman you now called mum, she didn't ask for an explanation of your fight, all she cared about was you.

"I'll be okay. Thanks, mum," you nodded your head, staring straight into her eyes. You were almost sure yours were glistening.

Harry came into the room, "Y/n, we should go or we'll be late," he stood there for a moment before nodding his head towards his mum and then left through the front door to wait in his car. His voice held little emotion, which made you more anxious about the journey ahead.

You wished your mother in law goodbye and exited the house.

Harry was in the car, wearing his shades when you sat down in the passenger's seat. You realised you had forgotten your weekend bags and opened your mouth to inform Harry, who pointed to the backseat where he had placed them.

The car ride had been one of the most awkward 3 hours you had spent with your husband. It was eerily quiet, which was something new to both of you. You two were never silent, either you would be talking or Harry would be singing a song under his breath or some noise, never complete silence. Even when you were fighting, you would argue each other's heads off.

This was new territory, this fight wouldn't be solved with make-up sex. You had to have an adult conversation about it. You just weren't sure what it would entail. What was the middle ground here?

When you entered your place, before Harry could walk away, you held his elbow, "H, I don't know what to do, but I know that this silence is killing me. Please say something." Your voice was hoarse for some reason and you were barely holding yourself together.

"I need some space," he removed his elbow from your hold and went out the door, leaving you feeling stranded in your own home.

It felt like a dam broke, with the way the tears were falling down your cheeks. You didn't have the time to go up to your room or sit down somewhere before you broke down, so you were currently sat on the floor, arms around your knees which were pressed against your chest.

It was a horrible sight to walk onto, which was exactly the first thing Harry saw when he entered the house after a few hours. You were rolled into a ball in the middle of the room, shaking as the tears flowed freely.

Harry rushed towards you and kneeled down in front of you. He held your face in his hands, making you face him. You could hardly see with the tears obstructing your view and still noticed his glistened eyes. They were swollen and red covered his entire face. He was crying too.

"Please don't cry baby, I am so so sorry. I am an idiot." He took your hands in each of his and made you slap him repeatedly, "I am an idiot, I made a mistake. I am sorry." He started trembling and sobbing at this point.

You couldn't bear to see Harry like this, you stopped him and removed your hands from his grasp. You were frantically shaking your head, "Stop H, please stop it." Your eyes were staring into his.

You both took deep breaths together, slowly calming each other down. You two were on your knees, holding each other, regaining your composure.

Harry spoke first, "What was I thinking, forcing you into having kids? I am so so sorry I acted like a dick Y/n. I don't know what came over me. I promise to never ever act like this again," he shook his head, his eyes moistening again.

You wiped his tears with your thumb, "I want to have kids. I wasn’t lying when I first told you that I wanted kids. You were right, we'll figure something out." You noticed Harry's expression turning uncertain, "But not right now, I need time."

Harry started nodding slowly, "However much you want."

”A year, H, I need one year for us to figure out how we'll handle having a baby and so we can be completely ready before we start trying."

Harry cupped your cheeks and rested his forehead on yours, exhaling lightly, "Absolutely. I'll cut back my time on the road to take care of you and the baby, our mums can help us babysit anytime we need the extra help."

You bit your bottom lip, letting out a small smile, "They'll fucking jump on that opportunity."

You both started chuckling, and before you realised, you were sprawled on the floor, in each other's embrace, laughing.

"I love you, baby."

"I love you too, H.”

#Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagines #harry styles angst #angst

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rexisnotyourwriter · 3 years

Photo

by @rexalexander and @postcardsanddaydreaming

After the Atlanta child murders, the Behavioral Science Unit is as busy as ever. With a new team member by their side, they take on what feels like a growing number of active serial killers as well as continue their interviews of already incarcerated subjects. Bill tries to track down Nancy and Brian with the hopes of repairing his marriage, while Wendy tries to take on a more active role in their research with an eager budding protégé at her side.

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Notes: As always, thanks to my beta fish @hardythehermitcrab

Chapter 2: Feeling Like a Loner

The bell rang. The class full of children emptied in a flurry of squeals. The teacher breathed a sigh of relief, but stopped when she noticed she wasn’t alone. A pair of mousy braids sat by the window watching her peers spill out into the playground like ants under a log. They scattered, dispersing themselves amongst the jungle gym, the hopscotch marked concrete, and the small patch of grass they called a field.

The teacher softly called her name.

They’d had this conversation before, usually ending with her forfeiting her smoke break to stay in the classroom.

The girl didn’t turn around.

“You have to go outside today,” she added. “It’s a beautiful day. And look at those clouds. I think that one looks like a cow.”

The girl didn’t move.

“Sweetie.” The teacher put a hand on her shoulder. The girl finally turned to face her. “Why don’t you go outside, hmm?”

“Why?”

“Why? Because it’s fun. Look. Look at all the fun they’re having.”

The girl looked back out the window and contemplated.

“That doesn’t look fun to me,” she concluded, matter-of-factly.

“You need to go outside today.”

“Why?”

“Because teachers need a break, too, and I can’t supervise you in here,” she responded bluntly.

“Oh,” the girl replied. “Okay.”

She got up from her seat and grabbed her neatly folded cardigan from the cubby.

Once outside, she found a good vantage point - a mostly flat rock at the edge of the field where she can see most of the schoolyard.

A group of boys were playing jacks. They’d made it to foursies, from what she could tell. Another boy hovered around them asking to join, but they ignored him.

The girl turned away from them and took a rubber ball out of the front pocket of her overalls. She bounced it against the ground on her own. Then, she turned back to the boys, still steadily bouncing her ball. She watched. When the time was right, she launched her ball into their game, knocking the jacks out of a boy’s hand. They yelled. She caught her ball without missing a beat.

The girl smiled, then turned her attention to the jungle gym. Almost ten children were winding their bodies between the bars, some resting on levels, others climbing to the highest perch. The few children in the center looked like they were imprisoned. An acrobatic cage. One boy made it to the top, or rather almost. His feet were on the second highest bars, his hands on the highest. He put one foot up on the high bar and tested his balance, releasing the pressure on his other grounded foot. His hand slipped, but he got his grip in time to only suffer a minor embarrassment (one of his friends saw, and proceeded to laugh). The boy climbed down after that.

She looked down at her cream colored Mary Janes and tapped her toes together. In the corner of her eye, inching toward her, was a remarkably fuzzy caterpillar. It bobbed up and down like a wave, growing closer and closer to the shore of her shoe.

“I got it,” someone yelled.

Then thud.

The caterpillar disappeared under a grass stained sneaker belonging to the boy who “got it”. “It” was a rubber ball, and the boy she recognized as the one whose turn at jacks was interrupted.

He ran back to his friends, taking no notice of her or his victim. The insect, upon inspection, hadn’t been entirely crushed, and was still wriggling. She gingerly scooped it up with a sturdy leaf and rested it in one hand while she cupped her other around it like a shield. She watched it writhe with increasing intensity, then intermittently, then not at all.

--------------------------------------------------------

On the following Monday morning, Bill was surprised to see that he had beat Holden in to work.

He poked his head in Wendy’s office.

“Captain America not in yet?”

“No,” she replied, barely looking up from the page in front of her.

“Maybe he finally got lucky,” Bill joked.

He got a smirk out of her that time.

Bill turned around and, seeing that Gregg was preoccupied with a phone call, didn’t bother closing the door.

“I’m going up to talk to Gunn,” he said softly.

“Good.” She paused. “Do you know what you’re going to tell him?”

“Marital problems.”

Wendy nodded her approval.

Gregg’s voice got louder from the hallway.

“Is he still on the phone?” Wendy asked.

Bill turned to confirm. “Yup.”

Wendy closed her file.

“This is ridiculous. We can’t be expected to assist in every single murder case across the country. We can’t even keep up with the inquiries.”

“What did Gunn say?”

She rolled her eyes.

“I haven’t really mentioned it, not explicitly. He’s not exactly receptive to my ideas. Knowing him, he would probably ask why Gregg was the one dealing with it and suggest I take over secretarial duties.”

“He’s not that bad, is he?”

Wendy’s eyes flicked up at him. Her look said it all.

“I’ll talk to him,” Bill decided. “Tell him we need to hire someone.”

“Thank you.”

He nodded.

Holden speed walked into the office, his forehead glistening with sweat.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Bill greeted.

Wendy got up from her desk and joined Bill in the doorway.

“Sorry,” Holden muttered breathlessly.

“Is everything alright?” Wendy asked.

“What? Oh, yeah. I had to take the bus, but I forgot my wallet at home and…It’s been a morning.”

“How’s your car?”

“What happened to your car?” Bill interjected.

Holden, still exasperated, dropped his briefcase on the desk with a thud.

“It wouldn’t start when I went to leave the bar on Friday, so Wendy gave me a ride home.”

Bill threw a side-eyed glance at Wendy who wrinkled her nose in subtle disgust.

No, Bill.

“I got it towed to the shop on Saturday,” Holden continued, “but it wasn’t a dead battery. Turns out I need a new timing belt, and they couldn’t get one in until today. I have to pick it up in a couple hours because they close early, and when I called this morning it still wasn’t ready, which is why I had to take the bus. Hence…” He gestured to his state of disarray and exhaled.

“Happy Monday,” Wendy said before disappearing back into her office.

Bill got roped into a case that delayed his plan to talk to Gunn. It was almost 11am before he was finally able to go upstairs. Nearly 23 minutes later, Bill returned to the basement where Holden and Wendy appeared to be waiting for him. The pair looked at him expectantly.

“It went fine,” Bill admitted. “He gave me some sympathy about ‘the old ball and chain’ and poured me a finger of whiskey. As long as we stay on track and deliver, we’re good.”

“That’s great, Bill,” Holden said.

“And Gunn agreed about hiring an assistant,” Bill added, to Wendy’s relief. “A non-agent, but someone who can deal with the sensitive matter. He said he would talk to you about it.”

Wendy’s face dropped.

“Why me?”

Bill opened his mouth to explain, but stopped. He couldn’t find the right words.

She understood.

“Of course,” she added bitterly. Because I’m the woman.

Sometimes she missed Boston.

“Oh, shoot,” Holden exclaimed, noticing the time. “I gotta go.”

“Did you send that profile to Osborn?” Bill asked.

“Yeah, I just faxed it over,” he replied, already halfway out the door.

“Kids,” Bill joked, shaking his head.

“So, how’d it really go?” Wendy inquired.

“It really did go fine,” he replied sincerely. “Better than expected, honestly.”

“But?”

Bill sat on the edge of the desk.

“I guess I still feel…uneasy about the situation with Brian. How would it look if the FBI found out my kid was involved in a murder.”

“But he wasn’t, Bill. They concluded he wasn’t responsible. It’s on the record.”

“I know. And I know that logically he thought the cross was a good idea,” he admitted. “I just don’t feel good about it. And now I can’t even keep an eye on him. I don’t know if he’s still wetting the bed. Or if he’s started sucking his thumb again, or if he’s spoken at all.”

Wendy offered him a sympathetic smile.

“From what you’ve told me, it seems likely that the regressions are a result of the traumatic experience. Nothing more.”

“I just feel so helpless.”

They sat in silence, neither knowing what else to say.

“If there’s anything I can do,” Wendy offered.

“Thanks. Really. I’m glad you’re around.”

Bill got up to leave.

Wendy passed by the fax machine on the way back to her office and picked up the pages of the profile Holden faxed to Alaska. She scanned the page, then stopped.

That little-

There was a knock.

“All by your lonesome, Dr. Carr?”

“Not anymore,” Wendy muttered under her breath.

She turned around to see Gunn standing in the doorway.

“I don’t know if Bill had a chance to mention it to you,” he said, making his way over to her.

“He did.”

“Good. HR has a standard secretary job posting. I’ll have them send it your way and you can let them know if there’s anything to be added. I trust you to select the applicants and conduct the interviews, but I need to sign off on the hire.”

“Isn’t this something that HR can handle on their own?”

“They don’t know what it’s like in the BSU. The intricacies of your operations. You’re the expert on that.”

She straightened her posture and folded her arms.

“You were involved in hiring Agent Smith, weren’t you?” he added, taking a few steps forward, closing the gap between them.

“Yes, but that was different,” she explained. “He’s actively involved in our work.”

“And so will the woman you hire.” She fought hard not to roll her eyes. “I thought you’d want to have a hand in who joins this team, Dr. Carr.”

“That’s -” she started, then stopped.

She took a breath.

“I feel that my time would be better spent focusing on our research,” she explained.

“And this is part of that,” Gunn stated confidently. “Everything that happens in this basement is. And beyond. All the cogs in the machine have to be well oiled and working together.”

His tone was final and his feet were already headed towards the door.

“Let me know if you haven’t gotten anything by the end of the week,” he added, already halfway out the door.

The phone rang, as if on cue.

She walked away, letting the sound echo in the empty room.

Wendy was in the break room getting her third coffee of the day when Holden returned from his errand.

“Hey, is there enough left for me?” he asked, preemptively grabbing a paper cup.

Wendy continued pouring coffee into her cup until the pot was empty. Holden looked at her cup, full to the brim. She picked it up carefully and took a sip from the top, looking Holden square in the eyes, before walking past him back to the office.

He stood there for a few seconds, stunned, before following her.

“Hey,” he called, just as she was about to enter her office.

Wendy turned around, unimpressed.

“Did I miss something?” Holden asked.

She was amused by his question, but not happy.

“Yes, Holden,” she said with more than a hint of condescension. “You missed a significant portion of my professional opinion in the Alaska profile.”

He thought for a moment, trying to remember what she could have been referring to.

“The military thing?” Her look confirmed his guess. “I thought we agreed he didn’t fit the military description.”

“I very clearly stated that it was very likely he did work at the air base.”

“Yes, but then I said I disagreed and you dropped it, so-”

“So, you took that to mean I conceded.”

“Well…”

She’d had it.

Gregg, who took notice of their dispute, removed his headphones to spectate properly, albeit discreetly.

“Look,” Holden said in a softer voice. “I don’t want to argue.”

“If you can’t tell the difference between a rational discussion and an argument-”

“Do you want me to call them?” he interrupted. “Tell them we made a mistake and we’ll send a new assessment?”

Wendy weighed this option briefly.

“No,” she concluded. “The damage is done. It won’t look good if we change our mind unless we’ve been presented with new information.”

Holden exhaled loudly. She stared him down. It didn’t appear that he’d learned this lesson.

“What’s done is done,” she added.

She retired to her office, closing the door firmly behind her.

Gregg looked up at Holden. Holden stared back, trying to think of something to say. His mind drew a blank, and he walked away, shaking his head.

The first thing Wendy did when she got home was pour herself the remainder of her bottle of Pinot Gris. It filled her glass well past the acceptable half-way point, but who was there to judge her.

The second thing she did was check her answering machine. She always tried to do it casually - just a quick glance - as if someone might be watching and think she was neurotic. The little red bulb was dark, as it always was. It seemed like a silly purchase now, slowly gathering dust like her love life.

She took a large sip of wine and opened the fridge. It was sparse. There was half a carton of eggs, an opened container of hummus, a three inch block of cheddar, and a nearly empty carton of milk next to a half full carton of orange juice. The crisper contained a bruised apple, two oranges, and a few stalks of celery.

Unmoved by her options, Wendy opened the cupboard only to find a bag of dried apricots where there would normally be cans of tuna. She once again opened the fridge and took out the cheese, an orange, and two of the celery stalks. From the cupboard, she took out the dried apricots as well as a box of crackers from the one next to it. She sliced the cheese and arranged it carefully on a plate next to a matching number of crackers. Next to the crackers was the celery, cut into sticks, followed by orange wedges and a handful of dried apricots completing the circle. She scribbled down “tuna” and “milk” on the notepad pinned to the fridge before bringing her dinner to the living room.

Wendy settled into her usual chair, curled her feet up, and turned on the television. It was quarter to the hour, right in the middle of any half-hour show and too near the end of a full hour program. She flicked channels through twice before stopping on an episode of Wheel of Fortune, which promptly went to a commercial break.

She took a bite of one of the celery sticks only to find it bitter. It hadn’t looked spoiled from the outside, but it’s hard to tell sometimes. She tossed the stick back onto her plate and grabbed an apricot to cleanse her palate. Much better.

A man from Sarasota made it to the final round, but couldn’t guess the puzzle. Wendy got it in four seconds. When the episode ended, she turned off the television and brought her briefcase back to her chair. She pulled out the file she brought home on John Wayne Gacy. The Killer Clown.

Gacy’s mug shot was more unique than most. He was looking away from the camera, off to the side, and smiling. It was as if he was having a pleasant conversation with one of the officers when they snapped his picture. He didn’t look nice per se, however he wasn’t glistening with sweat. This wasn’t surprising though, considering he admitted he knew he was going to be arrested. And he confessed willingly, although it was only after police had found the remains in his crawl space.

Wendy read through the details of the first convicted murder, Timothy McCoy - formerly known as the “Greyhound Bus Boy”. Gacy had left a family party to go look at a display of ice sculptures, then decided to lure the 16-year-old to his car from the Chicago Greyhound Bus Terminal. He was on his way to Omaha from Nebraska. Gacy drove him around Chicago, showed him the sights, then back to his house where he told McCoy he could stay the night. He even offered him a ride to the station in the morning in time to catch his next bus. According to Gacy, he woke up early in the morning to see McCoy standing in his bedroom doorway with a knife. Gacy got out of bed and charged at McCoy, who raised his hands in surrender, still holding the knife. It cut Gacy’s arm in the panic. Gacy, who was much larger than McCoy, wrestled the knife from him and banged his head against the wall. Gacy kicked him multiple times. He wrestled him to the ground, straddled him, and stabbed him repeatedly. Then, Gacy claims he cleaned the knife in the bathroom. When he went into the kitchen, he found an open carton of eggs and a slab of bacon, unsliced, on the table, which was set for two.

This poor boy just wanted to make him breakfast, as a thank you, and he died for it. All because he didn’t leave the knife in the kitchen.

Wendy swirled the remainder of her drink in her glass, then held her hand steady and watched the wine continue to swirl and splash around the curves, briefly gaining momentum before slowing to a soft ripple.

Maybe Gacy would have killed him anyways. Maybe he never meant to drive him to the station that morning. Maybe McCoy was always meant to end up in Gacy’s crawl space, covered in concrete.

She took a sip and turned the page.

#op*#mindhunter #mindhunteredit #mindhunter fic #a tide in a city #wendy carr #bill tench #holden ford #ted gunn #gregg smith

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periminkle · 4 years

Text

Orphic | 03

After moving into your own place, it seems life is finally going your way; the path to independence leading you to a quaint suburban town where even the grass seems to grow a little greener. Although a shocking encounter leads you to believe that perhaps appearances can be quite deceiving.

pairing: hybrid!jk x reader (first person)

genre: hybrid au, angst, fluff

word count: 8.0k

rating: pg-15

warnings: swearing, people throwing up, death, mentions of harming test subjects, ANIMAL ABUSE

author’s note: hahaha no it hasn’t been almost a month since i uploaded the last chapter, what are you talking about ?? this was also supposed to be the second half of chapter two before i got carried away and added an extra 8k to it,,, anyway eNJOY

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A few days had passed since word broke of Taemin’s death. With his absence, there was a substantial lack of cells to study, thus granting loads of free time to brood over said jaguar cub.

Knowing he would eventually leave prepared me for a mild episode of dejection, but nothing could compare to the aching gap left from his passing. Despite having known the little guy for only a short month or so, he was my stress reliever, coaxing a tender smiles after a day’s worth of drudgery with his endearing behaviour. He was the spark that fuelled my growing bond with the only decent people I could find here.

Moreover, he spent the last couple months of his life caged, muzzled and treated atrociously, as if he was the beast. I pushed back tears for the umpteenth time.

My head jerked backwards as a tissue was abruptly shoved in my face. “Do you want me to get another box?” Yoongi’s rough voice permeated the sniffles I tried to hold back and I buried my face deep into my arms, closing my eyes and trying to even out my staggered breath.

In my grief I pushed everyone away, disgusted with even my own lack of ability to protect the one faultless being that was ripped out of my grasp much too soon. Bereavement blinded me, leaving me unable to distinguish friend from foe and as a result, I cast them all out.

Unknowingly, I reverted to the mindset that I had hoped to leave behind in the city, where there was no one to turn to when everything spiralled out of control. Blaming others for my own shortcomings opened my eyes to just how cowardly I was, losing myself in a labyrinth of my own self-loathing.

It was lonesome, to say the least.

But they’d never left my side, much to my initial displeasure. Either Namjoon or Yoongi constantly shadowed my inhospitable self, from the office to the lab tables, going as far as waiting outside the bathrooms for me. I angrily confronted each one about the evident stalking on numerous occasions, yet Namjoon would insist that he was worried about my well-being and Yoongi claimed he was simply headed the same way.

By the second day, I caught on to their schedule of routinely swapping babysitting duties at around the second and third hour mark. I attempted to find some respite and solace by escaping to the break room once, when I knew both assistants had already taken their respective time off for the day. Foolishly, I believed that I’d finally evaded the duo’s clingy tactics.

However, before I could bask in my newfound solitude, Jin’s lethargic form made an appearance. True to his overbearing, fatherly instincts, he placed a homemade sandwich on the coffee table in front of me and lectured me on skipping meals.

Even without acknowledging my mistreatment towards them lately, I knew the three of them were empathetic enough to chalk it up to my process of mourning. Nonetheless, the immeasurable guilt I felt had accumulated over the abundance of time I had to reflect on my actions. Enough hours had been allotted to sulking and after a full day’s worth of encouraging, internal pep talks, I mustered up the courage to put effort towards amending my wrongdoings.

The screech of wheels rolling against the smooth tiles of the floor elicited the roll of his name off my lips. “Yoongs.” Intrigued by the lack of a hostile tone present in my voice, I felt his gaze flit to my hunched frame. The fact that I didn’t even have to lift my head to feel his eyes softening at the vexing nickname stuck a fresh layer of shame to my skin. “’M sorry.”

With my face practically burrowed into the sleeve of my lab coat, the apology came out muffled and barely audible, though I was met with the thoughtful, low timbre of Yoongi’s hum. “And, I know it’s no excuse, but everything has just been a lot lately.”

Regardless of my verbal atonement, the blonde man continued on his path out of the office, evident by the creak of his weight shifting off the chair and the following footsteps that drifted farther away.

I belatedly lifted the heavy weight of my head off of my arms, vacantly staring at the doorway that Yoongi had just passed through. Before I knew it, his unusually lively form lumbered back inside, two brightly patterned tissue boxes in hand. “What a crybaby.”

The corners of my lips tugged upwards for the first time in the past few days. It was a welcome development.

One down, two more to go.

With a single reconciliation under my belt, repeating the same process with Namjoon went a lot smoother than expected. I sought him out after my healthy banter with Yoongi ceased, eager to successively rectify all the relationships I’d bruised. “Don’t stress about it; honestly we deserve a cold shoulder for the trouble we’ve caused you. Yoongi probably depleted over half your stash of beer all on his own.”

The drinking tolerance of those boys was well beyond my comprehension. Although my house was completely out of the way home for all of them, I could only assume that it was sheer obstinacy impelling them to commonly stop by my house to wind down after a typically harsh day.

Lifting my head from the microscope that held samples of Doshik’s DNA, the resident blue tang speedily running laps in the tank, I peeked over at Namjoon’s dark hair, ruffled from the strap of his goggles. “I don’t mind. All I’m saying is that if I ever run out of stock, you guys are going to have to bring your own drinks.”

“C’mon Y/N, don’t be like that. Restocking your liquor every once in a while is nothing compared to our company right?” The appearance of his endearing dimples brought me back to the times I magically woke up in my bed after drinking my problems away with them the night before, the days they sent me home early because I yawned one too many times or all the snacks I strangely picked out of my bag ever so often.

I raised one teasing brow, crossing my arms and leaning back in the incommodious, metal chair. “Once in a while? With the rate that you guys are going, I would have to go to the store every other day.”

“Like I said, mainly Yoongi’s fault.” His deft fingers switched to a higher lens before continuing, “But really, you’ve got to confide in us, alright? I think we’re past the stage of ‘I want nothing to do with you when my shift is over.’”

It seemed like another weight had been lifted off my shoulders from the unexpected, forgiving nature of both men despite having every reason to be peeved at my churlish attitude as of late. Before I could formulate a response, Namjoon added, “Are you feeling better?”

I wasn’t sure how to respond to his question when I was just as clueless about my own welfare. But, I disregarded the notion of lying or concealing anything from them, as they’d relentlessly proven their loyalty and concern for me on more than one occasion.

“I’m not sure yet, Joon. I think I need some more time.” I covertly swapped out my microscope slide for the one sitting next to the unsuspecting man, intent on decreasing his workload, even if only by the slightest bit. “I’m glad that I have you guys, though. Thanks for dealing with my grumpy ass.”

I couldn’t help the curve in my lips when his impish gaze finally met mine, evidently content with my candour. “To be honest with you, Yoongi told me about your apology, so I was kind of expecting it.”

My jaw dropped in betrayal. “He told you?”

“Mhm, said that you could practically refill Doshik’s tank with the amount of tears you shed.”

“Wha—how could he, this guy!” Contrary to the clear exasperation in my tone, a wide grin revealed my true feelings. “Then he says that Jin exaggerates all his stories.”

A hearty chuckle escaped him. “Well, at least we know where Yeri got it from. Do you remember the last time she came to the lab?” I couldn’t repress my own chortle at the memory, the onslaught of laughter provoking a sudden cramp in my stomach that I uselessly pressed my palm against, attempting to quell the overactive muscles. “She swindled me out of twenty bucks by crying about Jin throwing out all of her toys!”

With a flaming red flush to my cheeks, I struggled to get a sentence past my quivering lips. “You can’t even blame the kid,” I temporarily regained my breath and continued, “you’re just too gullible.”

“Hey!” He pouted at the remark, jabbing a gloved digit into my side as a form of retaliation. The blow to my ribs induced a high-pitched squeak out of me and my hand darted to the sore spot in an attempt to block any further attacks. “Have you ever been on the end of those puppy dog eyes? You can’t just do nothing, it’s basically witchcraft.”

“Yes, yes, Jin taught her too well.” I attempted to placate the threatening fingers that hung in the air, poised for another stab if need be.

Namjoon bobbed his head in agreement, seemingly pleased with my answer as brought his attention back to the chromosomes in front of him. “Have you had time to go see him?”

“Ah, no, not yet. He’s the last one I have to pour my soul out to.”

In the comfortable silence that ensued, I found myself recalling the vile confrontation from a few days back. Truth be told, my mind regularly drifted to Hyunho’s harsh words whenever an empty lull emerged within my headspace, which was the exact reason I enjoyed keeping myself occupied as of late. The echo of the wretched man declaring Taemin’s passing was the predominant focus of my flashbacks, but a particular fragment of the rest of his spiel stuck out to me as well—the mention of a tiger cub. “Hey, Joon?”

No doubt noticing the change in my tone, Namjoon fixed his stare on my fragile countenance once more, holding my gaze. Only then did I realize that I was unconsciously craving the sincere reassurance locked away beneath those brown specks, similar to a wailing newborn falling silent at being held in its mother’s embrace.

“Did you know?” The question spilled from my lips before I could process it.

Even with the lack of context, the adept assistant instantly shook his head. “No. No, I didn’t.” My gut twisted as he redirected his stare, trapping his lower lip between his unforgiving teeth in thought. “I still don’t really know. I’ve heard bits and pieces from some gossiping researchers that talk too loud, but I haven’t gotten enough to piece everything together. Hoseok said that they recently found the test subject they’d lost a while ago.”

Sincerity undoubtedly rang within each syllable of Namjoon’s voice. After a speedy internal debate, I unloaded all the horrendous secrets that I’d uncovered, from the initial suspicion I harboured to the folder in Jin’s office, and finally to the mutated PDE6C gene. The hardly intelligible speech all raged past my lips much like word vomit and my knee began to briskly bounce up and down from the massive influx of emotions.

“Hey, hey, calm down,” Namjoon said softly, stretching one lengthy limb out to rub soothing circles onto my back. “Let’s go slow, hm?”

I concentrated on the gentle touch that now rested on my shoulder, schooling my breath before continuing, “I need to help them. I can’t stand around, watching Hyunho and Minzi do whatever they want with no repercussions. These are lives they’re ruining.” Feeling myself getting heated again, I twiddled the tips of my fingers to keep my head level and busy. “It’s not just about Taemin anymore, think about it. This can’t be the first time a lab animal has been ‘tested on’ and died of ‘natural causes’ or whatever excuses they’ve been using.”

I didn’t catch the recognition flashing in Namjoon’s eyes, but his silence drove me to release the thoughts that had been stewing around my conscience for a while now. “Hyunho said that they’re bringing in a new cub right? We can’t let the same thing happen to him. We have to protect the animals in this lab, Joon.”

“I know how you feel, but there isn’t much we can do when they take the animals away to perform their tests.” As he saw me open my mouth to butt in, he interjected, “Trust me, we’ve tried. I’m pretty sure that the only reason we’re still around is because Jin keeps vying for us despite all the ruckus we’ve made.”

“We can’t just sit around and do nothing though! Have you been in the break room lately? Have you heard their screams? Joon, there’s something in there. Even now, they’re probably torturing some poor, undeserving animal.” In my determination, I grabbed the lapels of Namjoon’s pristine, white lab coat. “We have to save it.”

“We don’t even have a key card, Y/N,” Namjoon protested, his tone of voice still low and gentle, imploring me to understand the more rational side of the nonsense I was spewing. “And even if we did, the second we barge in there the cameras will spot us and we’ll be fired immediately. No matter how persuasive Jin can be, he won’t be able to save us from that. Then there’s really going to be nothing we can do to help them.” He hung his head in resignation. “At least we can make their last days somewhat enjoyable. At least from here we can wait for an opening, a chance for us to catch them in the act when they inevitably slip up one day.”

My brows pulled upwards in my distress, bringing my head closer in an attempt for Namjoon to see my desperation. “And how long is that going to take? Weeks? Months? Years? When do we put our foot down?”

His features softened and I already knew that I wouldn’t like whatever he was going to say next. “If we don’t act logically, we won’t be able to save anything.”

My jaw clenched, but I knew he had a point.

A sigh escaped his distraught form. “Go eat something and cool your head. We’ll talk more when you get back.”

In my defence, I had made my way to the break room like Namjoon suggested, nearly settling down with one of the many homemade sandwiches Jin left in the fridge—but not even five minutes passed before torturous whimpers of pain filled my ears. The pile of carbohydrates in front of me suddenly didn’t seem quite as appetizing.

In order to restrain my impulsive self from further digging my own grave, I mercilessly gnawed away at my lip, repeating Namjoon’s warnings like a sacred mantra in my head. When the dull taste of metal hit my tongue, I quickly placed the meal back where I found it and scurried out of the agonizing space as fast as my legs would carry me.

Rather than providing relief though, I found that every step weighed heavier than the next. I felt the toll both physically and emotionally. No matter how much distance I put between myself and the tormented creature, I wasn’t able to escape the distressed cries that echoed throughout my skull, perpetually bounding from one end to another.

My plan was to drown out any nonsensical thoughts with the lengthy sequence to Doshik’s yellow tail.

However, it was foolish to believe that I would be able to concentrate on the chromosomes in the petri dish. I couldn’t focus on properly setting up the gel electrophoresis, forgetting to dig out small wells in the agarose gel and even incorrectly attaching each end of the power source, mixing up the spots for the cathode and anode. At this point, I had to restart the whole project.

My annoyance was made vocal by the groan of frustration slipping past my mouth, though there wasn’t anyone around to witness my theoretical fall into insanity. After a few beats, attributable to the pads of my gloved fingers drumming against the lab bench, I gave in to my curiosity and concern.

I wish I hadn’t.

A quick search on the computer in Namjoon and Yoongi’s office brought up the history of the animals that had been kept at this laboratory at one point in time or another. I was revolted at the sheer number of predators who had spent their last breath here.

Dread filled my gut at the upcoming arrival of the tiger cub. I knew I could no longer heed Namjoon’s words, no matter how sensible and pragmatic they were in comparison to my own faulty logic. But to tune it all out, live in ignorance and deal with countless other innocent mammals meeting the same tragic fate as Taemin—no, I would protect anything within my reach, no matter the cost.

Although I could never fight off all the monsters of this world, I hoped to have enough power to at least change one innocent being’s life.

And that would start with whatever they’d hidden away upstairs.

With this new mission in mind, my once empty days became filled to the brim with organizing a brilliant plot, often sacrificing hours of my sleep to continue planning and ensuring every aspect was foolproof. It took self-restraint that I wasn’t aware I was capable of in order to not burst in behind Minzi whenever she threw that smug smile at me before entering with her keycard; though I knew that plan wasn’t beneficial to the animal inside. Hence, I clenched my fists and dug the soles of my runners deeper into the ground whenever I thought of it’s tortured wails.

Just a little longer.

Despite familiarizing myself with the tone of the screeches that constantly resonated in my mind, I still couldn’t place the species the groans belonged to. It didn’t necessarily matter, but I was starting to run on the blind hope that they would be similar in size to Taemin, who I could easily carry in my grasp. In case, I also hid one of the carts used around the lab to transport loads of spot plates and test tubes, emptying it of all equipment and sanitizing the sides in case of any lingering, harmful chemicals.

After many long, strenuous hours of devising strategies and avoiding suspicious eyes, the day of the crime was finally upon me. Throughout the day, I used my precise notes to shift the angle of each camera slightly when I found myself alone, just so I could sneak past without showing up in frame.

I even headed upstairs to finally visit Jin, not having found the chance to properly apologize to him yet. The opportunity wasn’t wasted though, as I scoped out the cameras in the dim hall and nudged them over to the side as well. Unfortunately, I wouldn’t be able to deal with those inside the torture chamber itself, but I would cross that hurdle when it came down to it.

Hopefully, the all-black guise I prepared would cover any distinguishable features amidst the shadows of the night.

I was nearing the end of my extensive plan, the only step remaining being the act of acquiring a key card, grimacing as I thought about resorting to the horrible decision of swiping that which belonged to Jin. Ironic, really, considering that the whole reason I was going to see him was to atone for my previous behaviour, yet I was planning to nab his keycard within the same breath.

That aspect of my plot was at a standstill, as I’d never gotten a glimpse of said object in Jin’s office or on his person. I was stumped, beginning to believe that he didn’t have access to the lab upstairs. But his position as assistant director must surely give him such privileges, right?

As I was about to enter Jin’s office, prepared to snoop around a bit with the excuse of looking for Doshik’s file for concerns about his unusual allergy to something within the tank’s water, I spotted Eunmi, the snotty receptionist, striding past my frozen form.

She plucked the notorious keycard out from an inside pocket near her chest, holding it against the reader as my eyes practically bulged out of their sockets. Unperturbed by my blatant shock, she adjusted the pile of folders squeezed within her hold and strolled in.

A huge grin split across my face as I formulated my next steps. Instead of carrying on to my original destination, I changed my route to head off to the front entrance, patiently waiting for Eunmi’s return. I could push off Jin’s apology for a little later.

After about half an hour had passed, I spotted Eunmi gracefully slide back behind the towering desk, which concealed everything but the crown of her head. The loud clicking of the keyboard filled the silence.

Typical.

“Ah, Eunmi!” I briskly walked towards her, meeting those sharp eyes for a fraction of a second before they flickered back to the monitor in front of her. “I don’t see you around very often, how have you been lately?”

“Cut the small talk newbie, I’ve got work to do,” she sneered.

I clenched my jaw, refusing to allow her words to affect my deceptive, cheery disposition as I asked, “I was wondering if you’d like to get a drink with me tonight? Y’know, since I’ve been here a couple weeks and we haven’t gotten a chance to know each other yet!”

“Sorry, too busy,” Eunmi asserted, flicking a strand of strawberry blonde hair behind her shoulder. It seemed to be one of her many annoying habits that ticked me off.

Slapping my flattened palm against the shiny surface of the desk, I leaned back slightly and threw out my bait. “Ah, that’s too bad. I wanted to treat you out tonight, but I guess you’ve got too much work, huh...”

Hook.

She hummed in thought. “Time and place?”

Line.

“Bar two blocks away, eight-thirty?”

Eunmi raised a single, defined brow. “Nine. Your treat?”

I confirmed with a nod as her lips curled, displaying a pink lipstick mark on her front tooth.

Sinker.

Precisely a quarter before nine, the gentle creak of wood followed the twist of the doorknob to the assistant researchers’ lab. Jin’s drooping countenance peeked through the crack he created, fixating a mock glare on my busy hands. “That’s enough, Y/N. You can pick it up tomorrow.”

Despite the multitude of gel electrophoresis equipment scattered around me from the past few hours spent slaving away, most of that time was allocated to finalizing the nitty-gritty details for tonight. Honestly, analyzing DNA became second nature to me by now, creating space within my mind to freely cogitate due to the lack of deliberation the task required.

I swivelled around in Yoongi’s chair, facing the evidently fatigued man. “I’m almost done with this sequence though, give me ten?”

He let loose an excessive groan of frustration at being unable to retire for the day, tousling his unkempt locks before collapsing on the worn down bench in front of Namjoon’s desk. I hummed a catchy melody as I continued to scribble down the results from each experiment.

“Now that I have you all to myself,” I gingerly began, stealing a glance at Jin’s unmoving form, “I wanted to properly apologize for everything.”

He raised his arms to cushion his skull against the tough surface, which I took as a sign to continue. “Yoongi might have already told you about my poor attempts to make amends with everyone and I haven’t had the opportunity to sit down with you yet so,” I paused, taking a second to inhale and gather my thoughts, “better late than never, right?

“I shouldn’t have turned my back on you guys when all you do is look out for me,” I sincerely confessed. “I guess I took advantage of how comfortable I felt around you, but I realize that it was unacceptable to treat you as my friend when we’re at work and you’re acting as my boss. I crossed a line and I’m sorry. I’ll make sure to conduct myself accordingly at work.”

A few minutes of devastating silence trickled by. My mind was whirring with all the possibilities of Jin’s next actions; whether he would flip out and rage, simply march back out the door or if he’d fallen asleep and hadn’t heard a word I said. Unsurprisingly, when I turned around I was met with the tranquil sight of Jin’s relaxed frame, soft snores circulating in the office.

I swerved over to him, the squeak of the old chair screeching horribly against the tiles of the floor. “Hey, Jin. How about you go home and I’ll make sure to lock up, hm?”

His eyes fluttered open into slits and I could see the gears whirring in his half-conscious state. To seal the deal, I threw out a cheeky smile; one that I knew he couldn’t resist. “Alright, fine. You just,” he was interrupted by a hefty yawn overtaking his speech, “you just need to lock this door and the main entrance. Everything else is already taken care of.”

My eyes lit up at the sight of his keys and I let out a hum in acknowledgement at his instructions, attempting to curb any suspicion.

Jin’s tall stature towered over me when he pushed off on the balls of his feet, standing up to his full height. “And you didn’t need to apologize, Y/N.” My jaw went slack at his confession of having heard my whole spiel and I had to strain my ears in order to pick up the quiet mumble of, “I should be the one begging for forgiveness anyway.”

Before I had the chance to process his words, much less time to compose a well-thought-out response, he brushed past me and discarded the shiny metal on top of my pad of paper. The revving of a car engine came to life, headlights beaming through the window to the left as he sped away.

Although I could have spent much too long trying to decipher the hidden meaning behind Jin’s bewildering statement, the clock was ticking. Ten minutes remained to clean everything up, change outfits, lock both the office and the front door, then book it to the bar.

Prancing through the flashy entrance with mere seconds to spare, I registered the reality that I might have missed a minute detail in my intricate scheme. Whereas the individuals loitering around appeared as though they’d just come from a fashion show, I felt severely underdressed in the tight jeans and oversized sweater I’d worn to work that morning.

The place was relatively empty, seeing as the night had yet to begin. Nevertheless, I made my way over to the bar stools where I saw Eunmi with a glass in her hand.

“Eunmi!” After a closer look, I took in the wine coloured body-con she slipped on, complimenting her dyed hair well. But from the forced smile she plastered on, I could tell she hadn’t discovered that lipstick mark from earlier.

“You didn’t go home and change?” She pointed out once I was within earshot, her awkward grin morphing into her mundane scowl. Oddly, I felt more at ease with her evident displeasure than her amiable facade.

I glanced down at my attire with a slight shrug and pretended to dust off non-existent wrinkles.

“Tonight’s on you, so let’s start off strong, hm?” If the stench wafting off from her breath was anything to go by, I presumed that she commenced her own pregame at home before arriving. She waved the bartender over, “Two shots.”

He flashed a greasy smile and a nod our way before beginning on our drinks.

“So,” I tried to initiate conversation that hopefully didn’t come off as awkward as I felt, “how’s the pro—”

“Nope, we’re not talking about work here.” Eunmi turned her chin up, rolling her eyes at my apparent nonsense. “I don’t wanna think about that shit hole more than I already have to.”

It was difficult to remain civil in the face of the obvious contempt she harboured in her voice, although I bobbed my head to convey my consent anyway. While racking my brain for any other topics to touch on, I came to the realization that I’d never properly interacted with the surly woman seated beside me; other than asking for directions on the first week and extending a greeting that was rarely reciprocated, I only knew her name and that she enjoyed clicking away on her noisy keyboard for the majority of her days.

Swooping in to the save the definite lull in the discourse, the round-eyed bartender slid over the shots. Eunmi, shockingly, downed the drink as soon as it came into her grasp. In an effort to appear as amiable as possible for the sake of the overarching strategy, I rushed to follow. The abrupt grip on my forearm halted any movement though.

“But, I will say,” Eunmi confidently boomed, puffing her chest and slapping one outstretched palm on the table. If the irked stares the other patrons were giving us right now were enough to kill, I was certain that we’d be ash by now with her outrageous volume overpowering the dull beat of the music. “I am way overworked considering what my job description actually entails. The place wouldn’t even be able to run without me!”

My brow creased as I toned down my own voice in the hopes that she would get the hint. “Oh, uh, of course! And, uh... just as a refresher, how have you been helping out lately again?” Honestly, with the lack of visitors to the lab, assistants having to prepare samples and write reports, Eunmi’s role within the lab puzzled me greatly.

“What haven’t I been doing is probably the better question to ask!” She haughtily spat out, swiping my glass and chugging the liquid down her—most likely burning—throat. Even the narrow glare courtesy of the bartender himself couldn’t stop her from slamming the empty glass on the counter. I smiled apologetically. “I mean, from delivering J3’s documents to manning all the receptionist duties, I wonder what miss Minzi is doing exactly!”

Naturally, my head tilted in curiosity at the unfamiliar name. “J3?”

“I keep telling them; ‘he’s too dangerous’, ‘if he gets out again we’re really in for it’, but who’s about to listen to the too-brilliant-for-her-own-good receptionist? This is exactly how those stupid characters in the horror movies die; they don’t listen to the smart one!” With each argument, her unstable torso swayed back and forth, threatening to completely topple off the barstool a number of times. I placed a hand at her waist in an attempt to keep her upright, although she, very dramatically, slapped it away.

Undeterred by the aggression, I leaned in closer with widened eyes. “Mhm, but I would listen to you, Eunmi. What exactly is J3 though?” I prayed to any higher power that she was too intoxicated to pick up on how desperate I came off in prodding her for information.

She scoffed, “You don’t actually think I’m that dumb, do you?” Her face reared closer to my own, merely centimetres apart at this point, eyes burning holes into my soul and the stench of tequila thick on her breath. “I know what you’re trying to do here, inviting me out to get wasted, even going as far as to pay for it all.”

Panic rose as I nervously chuckled, eyes darting. “I don’t know what you’re getting at?” To relieve some of the perspiration building in my palms, I nabbed the freezing water that remained untouched in front of Eunmi—not so subtly placed there by the bartender.

Licking her lips, she arrogantly leaned back with a cocky smirk plastered across her countenance, “You want to get in my pants.”

Any remaining liquid in my mouth grotesquely flew into the air.

“It’s okay, no need to be embarrassed that I connected the dots. I mean, a lot of people have been in your shoes.” Eunmi expressed, flicking a stray strand away from her forehead. “But I just don’t see you that way.” The look of sympathy she attempted to exude didn’t sit well with me, although I didn’t know whether it was because I could trace where her eyes were drifting to—another drunk guy who’d ripped his shirt off and began spinning the fabric around as if he was some kind of helicopter—or that anything less than hostile was strange look on her.

I was still pondering on whether it was a blessing or a curse that she misinterpreted my intentions so horridly because after downing a couple more shots and a cocktail to top it all off, Eunmi was thoroughly convinced that I was harbouring some intense feelings.

The second time she swiped her pink tongue across her lips, she gracelessly clambered off the barstool. “Don’t worry about it too much; it’s not you, it’s me,” Eunmi drawled out, pointing a well manicured finger to her chest. “It just wouldn’t be fair to you, having to stand next to me all the time when everyone knows there’s absolutely no competition.”

I didn’t realize how many people had entered the club since we’d arrived and I reached out to grab Eunmi’s wrist again, worried at the way she was stumbling away from me. Even though she was a bit of a lousy woman, I wasn’t heartless enough to have Eunmi fend for herself in a pool of sharks, especially when she was heavily intoxicated.

My attempts to restrain her were futile though, as she squirmed away while eyeing the man from before, who had scrambled onto the top of a table and sensually moved his hips to the beat.

“Ooh, I do see something worth banging toni—”

And down she fell.

As I reached over to aid the inebriated receptionist, lifting by her exposed upper arms while wondering just how much alcohol she consumed prior to her arrival. Coming in contact with the unexpectedly damp, sweaty skin impelled me to cringe away from the unpleasant sensation, but I resisted temptation to turn tail and duck out of there for the sake of my goal.

Eunmi’s whines complaining that she was fine and endeavours to wriggle out of my loose hold only served to further thin my nearly non-existent patience. At this point, I had to conserve as much energy as I could for later on, not expend it all to take care of a toddler that couldn’t seem to stand on her on two feet.

When Eunmi’s visage faded into sickly green shade, I hurriedly yanked her limp body over to the unusually vacant washrooms. Out of seemingly nowhere, another sobbing, disheveled girl wriggled out from beneath the sink, evidently having thrown up there as well. As my nose scrunched up at the fishy odor, the stranger crawled over to Eunmi’s side by the toilet, gently patting her back and cooing at the similar, dreadful state the two were in.

While her focus was on aiming her regurgitation into the toilet, all her efforts in vain with the sheer amount of vomit surrounding her, I took the opportunity to file through her shimmering purse that I held in my clutch. I rummaged around to quickly find the key card, slipping it into the back pocket of my jeans, thankful that despite the change in outfit, she brought along the same bag that she had left work with.

“Eunmi, I think we should head home now,” I suggested, mildly concerned about her ability to breathe due to her continuous retching. Without waiting for a response, I began dialling the number for a cab.

After she finished emptying all the contents of her stomach and my wallet felt noticeably lighter than when I came in, I detached the weeping girls from one another and took hold of Eunmi’s underarms, dragging her past the dancing masses and plopping her down at the entrance.

“I get that you had a rough day,” I huffed out, taking a seat on a misplaced block of cement, “but did you really have to get so wasted?”

Streaks of her dark mascara decorated her cheeks from her bawling session, swollen eyes staring off into the distance. “Might as well enjoy myself before J3 finally rips my throat out.”

My brows knitted together at the repeated mention of the name, although I wasn’t able to dwell on it for long because I was soon blinded by a pair of bright headlights beaming from a vehicle painted in a distasteful mustard shade. The cab pulled up to the curb and I somehow managed to shove Eunmi into the backseat, forking over another wad of cash as I encouraged her to mumble out an address.

The car sped away and the lingering breeze grounded me, steeling my resolve despite the wet drops spattering onto the sidewalk. It seemed as though even the weather was attempting to foil my immaculate plans and I silently cursed my past self for failing to check the forecast ahead of time.

Deep down, even the possibility of having to endure another day acting clueless to the torment transpiring within my own workplace terrified me. Not even hard-headed Namjoon could deter my unwavering will at this point.

I jogged back to the lab as quickly as my fatigued legs allowed, predictably drained from hauling another person. The adrenaline pumping through my veins was the only tangible factor keeping me going and luckily, powering through the skittish apprehension gripping my mind.

Once the spotless exterior of the lab came into view, I began scouring through the bulky tote bag I lugged around everywhere. My hand ran across a smooth length that I failed to recognize, pulling it out to identify the unknown object. A miniature fishing rod decorated in vibrant red accents emerged.

The toy I bought for Taemin.

Clenching my fist around the rod, determined to save them this time.

Driven now more than ever, I located the keys that Jin entrusted me with earlier, twisting the lock open and slinking inside. The door creaked eerily behind me as I scanned the tenebrous entrance.

Refraining from switching on the lights, I relied on my muscle memory to sneak off to the changing room and donned the black guise in my locker. I secured a cap on top of my head before creeping up the stairs.

With the staircase enshrouded in darkness, I was forced onto my hands and knees to carefully navigate myself; I tried not to think about how pathetic I looked at the moment.

My hands trembled in the face of the obstacle I had envisioned barging through countless times—and now, I was presented with that very opportunity on a golden platter. Well, with more lying, drunken antics and conniving than intended, but none of that was important in the grand scheme of things.

Taking hold of the key card and pressing it firmly against the reader, the ruby glow blinked green. Success.

I took a tenuous inhale and an even shakier exhale before heading in. Considering the lack of windows, the complete darkness that enveloped the room was expected; hence the downwards tilt of my head and slight adjustment of my cap as I begrudgingly flicked the light switch beside the doorway. Immediately, I covertly surveyed the ceiling for any cameras that could be covered or nudged out of sight.

Oddly enough, none were fixed up there nor were they scattered along the walls. I wearily stepped deeper inside, elated yet distrustful all the same. The number of cameras I passed on the way here was more than I could count on both hands, so I couldn’t imagine they wouldn’t want a single, watchful eye in here.

Just what kind of experiment were they performing here?

Relenting in my inspection, my attention wandered to the middle of the rectangular room. There, on what looked to be a decrepit operating table, laid a human body.

Well, sort of human.

The lack of movement on the other end prompted me to draw in closer, examining the man. I was bewildered at the jet black ears that stood atop the crown of his head, poking out through his dark locks. Hesitantly, I stretched a hand out and tugged on one, watching his face for any sign of cognizance. My heart rate sped up at the confirmation that they were indeed attached to his skull and were undeniably soft to boot.

Examining the rest of his body, which was clad in simply a pair of boxers, I spotted a similar pitch black coloured tail resting beside his left leg. Although I resisted the urge to check if that was real as well, since I was sure that if he was anything like his animal counterpart he wouldn’t take well to the idea of a sudden jerk on his tail.

I couldn’t help but run my digits along the length of the fur, pleased to find that it was just as fluffy as his ear. The longer I stared, the more confusion swarmed my head. The pads of my index and middle finger came up to rub at my temple, unsure of what I was observing.

Were they trying to fuse the DNA of a human and—

A sudden, horrifying connection fired off in my head, making my heart drop to my gut as I examined the rest of the room. I pleaded for my assumption to be incorrect, just a figment of my bereaved brain.

Resting on the floor in one corner of the room was a sheet, draped upon an indistinguishable object. With bated breath, I staggered over to the lump and pinched the fabric, lifting the sheet off and uncovering what lay beneath.

Taemin.

My chest tightened and I felt claustrophobic in the spacious room, as if the walls were closing in and I could no longer afford the luxury of a breath. Salty tears welled up, slipping down my cheeks as I quietly wailed, “I’m so, so sorry.”

Through the blurry haze, my gaze travelled along his tiny body that was missing patches of fur, making parts of his pale, bruised skin visible. Another sob wracked through my body as I looked to his face and met a pair of dull, emerald green eyes; they were devoid of life, staring aimlessly at the wall. They didn’t even have the decency to lower his eyelids.

Instead of shock, a sort of numbness filled me—which was a thousand times more terrifying. I longed for the rich emotion that blazed through every orifice of my body, anything other than the apathetic desolation that halted my waterworks.

With one last glance, I shut his eyes and allowed the muscles to remain in their relaxed position. My heart yearned to give him some semblance of a proper burial, although I reminded myself that his young, playful spirit no longer occupied this empty carcass. After smoothing my palm over the side of his head and giving my final goodbyes, I covered his unmoving form once again.

I used the corner of my sleeve to wipe away any evidence of my anguish and turned my attention back to the man on the table. At the very least, I would save one life tonight.

Upon further inspection, I noted the chains cuffing his limbs to the table, which made me wonder about the threat he might pose if released—something I hadn’t taken into account. A quick scan of the room gave no clues as to anything that could free him, prompting me to forage through the few lab benches scattered around.

The mess of papers, test tubes and syringes made it difficult to locate anything, I doubted if even the head researchers could rifle through this mess to uncover something of use. A common theme among all the stacks I came across was the name, J3, scrawled across each of them; the familiar name that Eunmi brought up earlier that night piqued my interest. But, I stuck to the mission at hand, stressed from being on borrowed time.

Irritation settled into my features with each tick of the clock, coming up empty at the bottom of each bench I scoured. Through pure coincidence, I made out the gentle skitter of metal bouncing across the floor after making contact with the front of my sneaker. I grinned and scooped up a key

After stumbling back over to the table, I scrutinized his distinct features, defined brows resting above his closed eyes, enhanced by thick lashes. Travelling over his high cheekbones and down the slope of his nose, I inspected his thin lips complimented by the tiny mole underneath and framed by a strong jawline. I found his countenance oddly familiar, as though I’d seen him somewhere befo—

A hollow chuckle escaped my lips.

It was the burglar.

Of course, perks of moving into a small town right? You’d get to know everyone, even the criminals!

My eyes roamed over to his side where an atrocious attempt at first aid was located, the torn skin peeking through slivers of the bandages. Bright pops of colour laid in a few different spots, courtesy of the Hello Kitty band-aids he’d stolen from my drawer back home. The sight of the white cat on the well-built man almost made me burst into a round of giggles, but the dried, crusted blood reminded me of the gravity of the situation.

Any remaining resentment I harboured fled with my next exhale, leaving pity in its exchange.

In reality, I didn’t sustain any injuries from the scuffle and all I’d lost were a couple of first aid supplies. While in this rare compassionate state, I also reluctantly forgave him for the hassle brought about from my broken lock.

Even if he probably snipped a few years off my life with the stress from the encounter—resulting in the growth of a couple white hairs, no one deserved to be screeching out their lungs in pain every day.

I deftly unlocked each lock confining his wrists and ankles and stepped back to admire my handiwork when I processed just how ripped the guy was, strength bulging out every crevice of his body. All I could think about was how the hell I was going to transport this hulking mass of pure muscle out of here.

The idea of plunking him onto the cart I prepared earlier and wheeling him all the way home was tempting, but other than all the little kinks in that plan, most of all, I didn’t think it would be too comfortable with his current state adorning his body.

Then came the crippling realization that I couldn’t handle this on my own.

Thus, I retrieved some clean bandages from one of the benches, deciding that it would be best to snatch a few tranquilizers for my own safety as well and returned to his side.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and scrolled through my short list of contacts before locating his name. As the device began to ring, I reached across the stranger’s lithe body to unravel the old dressing, nearly consumed in reddish-brown dye at this point, to replace them with new ones.

The chime ended, indicating that the receiver had been picked up, before he asked, “Y/N? Why’re you calling so late?”

I began to place the gauze on some of his superficial wounds. “Hey, so, um... long story?”

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