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theharrowing · 10 months

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Collateral 🗡️ 17 - Making someone cry is a side-effect of being in love, I'm afraid

Your ex-boyfriend gets in over his head working for the local mafia, and Boss Min has come to collect his payment: You.

But was it simply a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or has he always had his sights on you?

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🗡️ Yoongi x Female Reader x Namjoon, Jungkook x Female Reader 🗡️ word count: 15.6k 🗡️ mafia au, strangers to lovers, graphic violence, major character injury, poly, smut, angst, fluff, nsfw, explicit 21+

🗡️ chapter warnings: excessive drinking to numb/forget; so much fucking tension lolol; Hwasa (yes, that is the warning); new nickname for the bingo card (doll/dollface); Jeongguk is a flirty little shit & he got his eyebrow and lip pierced; mc learns to dance; use of "whore" (not derogatory but also kind of derogatory); smoking weed; mc confessing to "going all ways" (sorry straight readers, but i don't know how to not write a queer mc); mc has some complicated feelings and is doing her best; Jeongguk sometimes says the wrong thing but he is also doing his best; a healthy amount of crying; mention of dead moms; discussion of drug use & addiction; inexplicit discussion of sex (sorry lads, the smut is in the second half. it's worth the wait!!!)

🗡️ note: this chapter spans about three weeks, and there is no clear definition of time in between some scenes because mc is just kind of...dealing with the passage of time in her own way. so if it seems kind of disjointed, that is because it is meant to. also, as you may have seen, this chapter wound up being 30k words, so i have broken it in two parts and beefed up some of the scenes. i intend to post chapter 18 very, very soon. ok i love you, enjoy!

🗡️ beta read by @neoneunnajimin!

🗡️ posted on june 2023 | read on ao3

You love Yoongi; there is no question about it.

Despite the hurt and confusion and pain, one thing that you are certain about, above all else, is that you love him.

And that is why you drink.

You drink to numb the myriad feelings. You drink to pass the time. You drink to forget. With a twinkling haze of intoxication, loud club beats, and bright lights, you drink, and drink, and drink.

Jimin caves instantly on his insistence to not teach you how to dance, and you realize that he is not only a brilliant dancer, but that he seems to really enjoy having someone around to join him. Behind Paradise is a ballet studio that he owns and rents out to instructors. When he has free time, he goes there to practice in front of the wall of mirrors while some sultry melody plays on an old-fashioned boombox in the corner.

Sometimes he throws on a hip-hop beat and does experimental moves with his body, contorting his limbs in square, jarring movements. Other times he drifts gracefully through the space to ballet pieces, muttering about Tchaikovski, Prokofiev, and other names of long-dead men that you struggle to pronounce. He is always magnificent—a true artist of his craft.

It takes no time at all to become a friendly face at Paradise. Within just a few nights, the cocktail waitresses, dancers, bartenders, and regulars all seem happy to greet you. Jimin has introduced you to everyone as dove, a nickname you quickly warm up to, which is what everyone there calls you.

Everyone, that is, except the new bar manager, Jeon Jeongguk.

At Paradise, under the flashy red, purple, and fuchsia lights, he calls you dollface, or doll for short. And at first, you fucking hate it; the words stick like bile to your tongue, heavy and tacky.

But the more he struts over with his black satin shirt unbuttoned just a little too low, hair slicked back, standing too close with his sticky-sweet whiskey breath and muttering shit like, "Looking gorgeous tonight, doll," you begin to warm up to it a little.

"What happened to buttercup?" you teased the first time he tried the new nickname, and he rolled his eyes, chewing on a piece of pink bubblegum wide-mouthed like an adorable a fucking cow as he said, "That was the old me, dollface; I'm not the same person I was yesterday."

It should come as no surprise that Jeongguk is really beginning to grow on you. Now that he works the bar and you see him a lot more often, his attitude is much softer. He still teases you, and at times, it makes your fucking blood boil, but there is a softness to his gaze, especially when his smile stretches wide, that makes your tummy do a backflip whenever his presence lingers.

All of this is extra dangerous in your current situation because the last thing you need while on sabbatical from both of the men who you continue to be in some unnamed but deeply romantic relationship with, is Jeon Jeongguk making you feel giddy. Try as you might to convince yourself that your feelings are purely a product of your loneliness, you know that is untrue; your feelings for Jeongguk had already begun to sprout, and, as time goes on, they continue to grow.

You are also finding yourself charmed by Jeongguk's second-in-command, a wisp of a woman with a wide smile and even wider hips named Ahn Hyejin—stage name Hwasa. Hyejin is tiny, barely standing taller than Jeongguk's shoulder with her sharp stiletto heels on. But she commands a room, voice booming and deep when she needs it to be, making all the dancers do exactly as she says.

Although you are surrounded by beauty in a place like Paradise, nobody steals your attention like Hyejin. Her beautiful diamond-shaped face is always made up with sharp black eyeliner and bright red lipstick. With wide, dark brown eyes that pierce into your soul, all it takes is one pointed smirk, and you are practically melting to her feet. She is always dressed a little revealing, showing enough skin that your eyes continuously trail back to her, just to get another glance.

You understand why men wage wars over love and lust. Hyejin is living proof of why so many sonnets and classic literature pieces are steeped in maniacal desperation over a woman some lonely man saw at a passing glance one time.

Hyejin was once a dancer, too, but she worked her way into a management position, and all the family men who come to the bar treat her like a sister, including Jeongguk, who only reluctantly calls her Hyejin-noona because she is two years older than him and likes to insist on the nickname.

She teases Jimin at times, too, being several months older than he is, and she uses it to her advantage when she wants him to do something for her. Jimin always grumbles, rolling his eyes while fulfilling her requests to make the stages and dress rooms better for the dancers, but he does everything out of love for her, and for his dancers, and he is grateful to have her on his management team, giving him advice on how to improve.

Hyejin is, in a word, amazing.

"I see the way you look at her," Jimin teases you tonight the moment she walks in sporting a red one-piece latex bodysuit with long sleeves and a deep v-collar, putting her thighs on glorious display. She wears matching red thigh-high boots, and her long, dark brown hair falls past her shoulders in waves.

Although you turn your head in the direction of Jimin's voice, your eyes stay on Hyejin as she struts over to the bar where Jeongguk is leaning forward on his elbows, getting his attention by draping herself over him and slamming her hip against his side.

"Hmm?" you finally ask when seeing the two of them standing side-by-side has your cheeks feeling entirely too warm, though it still takes a few stray seconds to pull your gaze to Jimin.

He has one perfectly manicured eyebrow raised, and he tongues the inside of his cheek, making you feel even more embarrassed. You are only human…what does he expect from you?

Tonight, Jimin wears silver shimmer on his eyes, with his brown hair styled off his forehead. His black satin button-up is undone to the center of his chest, and it is tucked into very tight, fitted black slacks, styled with black boots.

Everyone at Paradise is honestly so breathtaking; it is no wonder the place brings in so many high-rollers willing to spend top dollar. Although you are determined to keep Jimin as a friend only—not that he has ever shown signs of wanting more from you—you still find yourself stunned by his beauty.

"Gonna start calling you fawn instead of dove," Jimin teases, and you snicker at the wordplay, unwilling or able to deny you have been fawning over Hyejin since the moment you met her.

"I need a pet name bingo card," you tease, scrunching your nose to feign annoyance, despite finding it cute.

You smell a familiar perfume—bright floral and lightly fruity—dance softly in the air before you feel an arm sling around your waist, and you take a fortifying breath before turning to find Hyejin's beaming red smile inches from your face.

"Hey, dove," she greets in a deep, sultry tone that makes every little hair on your body stand up.

"Hey, Hyejin," you respond as your cheeks become hot.

"What are you up to tonight?" she asks, giving your waist a squeeze before sliding her arm away but staying just as close. "Practicing any more of your dance moves?"

You giggle and shake your head, feeling nervous about talking to her, of all people, about dancing. Once Jimin let it slip that he was showing you floor moves, both Hyejin and Jeongguk began hounding you for a demonstration.

"Ahhhh, probably not," you respond, sounding just as awkward as you feel. "I was planning on sitting here tonight and drinking all of Jimin's expensive whiskey for free."

Hyejin pouts and it sends your heart haywire, making you nearly cave. "I want to see your moves," she says in a sweet, baby voice that has you floundering for words—deciding that you would probably do anything to satisfy her.

"Maybe once I feel more confident," you respond demurely, nibbling on your bottom lip.

This seems to satisfy her, and she winks as she says, "Looking forward to it," before walking off to the dressing rooms to check on her dancers.

"Holy shit," you mutter under your breath once she is gone, catching your breath as if you had just run a marathon.

Jimin scoffs, teasing you as he says, "You are such a whore," and you laugh with him, rubbing your palms over your face. The effect that she has on you must be as obvious to her as it is to everyone else, and the prospect of that makes you nervous.

You have begun to dress a little nicer when you visit Paradise, starting from the first night Hyejn was introduced to you—wearing the more casual designer dresses that Jimin graciously brought from your room at the mansion, and letting him do your hair and makeup. She always gets a little too close when you have your cleavage showing, so you have been displaying it more and more lately.

"She's just so pretty," you complain as if it is an inconvenience, making Jimin laugh anymore.

"Careful, doll," Jeongguk's voice speaks way too close to your right ear, causing you to gasp and flinch, turning in the direction of the sound. "Keep flirting with her and it might make me jealous."

You scoff and lean away from Jeongguk, who only crowds closer, teasing you with a grin. Recently, Jeongguk has gotten his eyebrow and lip pierced, both on the right side—your left—and he keeps his hair cut short with a sharp, dark undercut. Today, his hair is styled in a swoop over his forehead, and his delicate, floral musky scent is dizzying the closer he gets.

Since working at Paradise, Jeongguk has begun to dress a little differently, and you find yourself unable to keep from sneaking glances at the slivers of skin he kept hidden behind buttons and t-shirts before. He continues to don his standard all-black attire, but he has also switched to satin, much like Jimin. His shirts are always unbuttoned to the center of his toned chest with no undershirt, and tonight he has several silver chains of various lengths and widths cascading from his neck.

"I wouldn't dream of it," you tease as you take a step away from Jeongguk and spin on your toes, toward the bar. A sexy R&B song plays loudly, and you swish your hips to the rhythm, knowing without having to glance back that he is watching you.

And although you tell yourself that you should not enjoy his attention so much—or anyone's attention, for that matter—you revel in the thrill it gives you. Yoongi and Namjoon have both encouraged you to pursue him, anyway…surely they wouldn't mind if you have a little innocent fun. After all, you have no idea when you may see the two of them again.

Nights at Jimin's house are lonely. His mansion is huge and empty, and you prefer not to spend much time there by yourself, which means you tend to be at Paradise from late evening to mid-morning most nights. At first, you thought your sleep schedule would adjust and you would become a night owl just like Jimin and Jeongguk, but as the days wear on, you find yourself exhausted, floating through a realm of half-wakefulness. The drinking likely does not help.

But what other choice do you have? Despite the deep ache behind your ribs, it feels too soon to return to Namjoon. During a brief phone call shortly after returning from Paris, he mentioned Yoongi was in the countryside at a facility to help him get past the first three weeks of withdrawal.

From time to time, you find yourself wondering how long it has been since you returned from Paris. It could have been weeks, but it could have been days; you have been disinterested in keeping track, finding the tangible passage of time too painful to confront. You figure the time will come when they are both ready to return to you and not a moment sooner; no use dwelling on it.

On the nights when all you wish to do is let go and forget, you either sit at the center stage and watch the strip shows with a drink in hand, or you head to the upper-level VIP section of the club and dance by the railings. When you are feeling outgoing, you find a group of drunk, friendly women by the back bar to become single-use friends with for the night and dance until bar close.

Back when you first moved into the mansion, Paradise was apparently a dance club with a brothel beneath, just like Serendipity. But during the weeks leading up to your Paris trip, Jimin had been working on getting the space remodeled—hence why you had not seen him around much, for a while. There still is a dancefloor, but it is rather compact near the back bar; not too many people come to Paradise just to dance.

The main room now consists of three stages—two smaller ones on either side of the room, and one large stage in the center, all equipped with a spinning poll. Everything is made up of dark wood, black leather, and chrome.

Beneath Paradise, there are still brothel rooms, but it is a very hush-hush affair that not too many patrons seem aware of. A patron can book any of the dancers for a private strip show and lap dance in a back room, but anything explicitly sexual is kept strictly to the lower level, and unless someone knows how to ask for it, they will get removed from the premises in a heartbeat.

Jimin oversees all Paradise operations, but his main focus is on the activities that take place underground. Jeongguk and Hyejin oversee everything on the main floors, including the strip stages, the back bar and dancefloor, and the VIP bar upstairs, which is more or less just a mezzanine with a bar and booths that cost a pretty penny to use.

Paradise is your oyster, and you more or less have free reign to do anything you would like.

During the nights when you do not feel like drinking, you go to the dance studio. Sometimes, Jimin goes along to let off some steam, either before he needs to run things at Paradise, or when he has a break in his duties. Other times, you go alone.

You have been getting a hang of moving your body in ways Jimin has shown you, and in new ways that you are discovering on your own. And although you are nowhere near as flexible or fluid as he is, you are surprised by how your body can bend and move and stretch when you allow it patience and grace to learn how. You get why he, and the other dancers at Paradise, take so much pride in their craft. To the patron, it may just seem like stripping and ass-shaking for some loose notes, but to them, and to you, it truly is an art form.

On nights when you dance, the loneliness is not at all quelled, and you find yourself spacing out often and getting lost in your thoughts. But the more you move and let out all of your pent-up energy, the lighter the loneliness seems to feel. Some nights you are able to relax and feel at peace, rolling and stretching your body without a care in the world. It gives you hope that there truly may be a light at the end of this tunnel, no matter how long it takes for you to reach it.

"Hey, pretty," a familiar sultry voice purrs, giving you goosebumps.

It is some unknown night in the middle of the week, and you left a group of bachelorettes by the back bar to step outside and smoke a joint. It is rare that anyone is out here, and you are surprised to find Hyejin, of all people, leaning against the brick wall in this quiet, employees-only escape tucked away in a dark alley. This spot is nestled behind a tall fence, past which is a set of dumpsters and a narrow path out to the main roads.

Hyejin is beautiful as always, wearing a black long-sleeve crop top shirt and high-waisted short shorts, under which black garters stick out and are clipped to black thigh-high socks. Her hair is pulled back into a bun, slicked on the sides, and as she approaches, her mary jane heels clack against the pavement.

"Hyejin," you mutter, swallowing thickly and abandoning the joint you had forgotten to light, cradling it in your fist. "Didn't realize you would be out here."

Tonight, she wears a nude lipstick rather than the red you have grown accustomed to, and her smile is not quite as warm. As she approaches, you are greeted by her lightly fruity, floral perfume.

"Stepped out for a breather," she sighs, eyes falling to your hand before they meet your gaze. With a raise of her eyebrows, she adds, "Mind if I help you smoke that?"

Your brain has to reboot before you lift your hand to inspect its contents, and you remember what you came outside for, chuckling as you hold out the joint and lighter to her and say, "Of course. You can hit greens."

Every once in a while, Hyejin will smile shyly. She has a practiced shy smile that she uses on Jimin, Jeongguk, and plenty of her customers—honed to perfection to get just what she wants. But this one is soft and delicate, filling her beautifully golden-tawny-toned cheeks with a deep red blush.

As she unfurls the soft smile that opens into a toothy grin, she reaches out both slender manicured hands and takes your offering, gently scratching her long, painted-black fingernails against your palms. The sensation sends a shiver through you, and you giggle, squeezing your hands shut before opening them again.

"That tickles," you admit when she looks curiously, laughing softly at you.

"You're easily ticklish, hmm?" she mutters with the joint cradled between her lips, then flicks on the lighter, giving her face a beautiful golden glow while igniting the tip and sucking in.

Hyejin takes a slow inhale followed by a sharp one, then holds her breath and passes the joint to you. When she lets out an exhale, smoke plumes in front of her, and you take a nice, big hit and hold it in, just the same.

The smoke is warm in your lungs and licks at your senses. As you breathe it out, you feel a small sense of release, letting your shoulders drop and your body relax.

When you turn to hand the joint back to Hyejin, she is standing much closer, leaning on the sliver of brick wall between you and the closed back door. You instinctively take a step back but rotate so that you are facing her, with barely any space between you. This time, when she smiles, her eyes have the sparkle that you are used to, but there is still an unmissable hint of sadness swirling in their deep umber depths.

"You know, you can always talk to me if you need someone," she offers unprompted as she takes a hit and hands the joint back.

You nod and mull it over, unsure where you would even begin. You have no idea what Hyejin knows about your situation, and although you think you can trust her, there is a part of you that is unsure whether you really want to talk about it, especially right now.

"Thank you," you say before taking a hit and holding it in. Hyejin turns her head to blow the smoke away from your face, then she reaches out one hand and gently rubs her fingertips over your wrist, snaking them into the sleeve of your black denim jacket and sending a tingling warmth into your bloodstream.

You turn your head to exhale, then hold up the joint, asking, "More?"

"I'm good right now," she responds softly, and you move your hand away from her inviting touch to pinch the lit end off onto the ground. In your pocket is a small plastic tube into which you slide the joint, placing a little plastic cap over the end so that its smell does not stick to your clothing, and then you return your arm to its spot and allow her fingers to resume exploring your wrist and hand.

"I appreciate the offer," you try, hearing the way your voice trembles as the weed settles over you and fills you with a heavy-weightless warmth, buzzing in a deep thrum that tenses and relaxes and relaxes and relaxes. Sheepishly, with a giggle, you add, "I don't…really know where to begin."

Hyejin's hand sides into yours, palm against palm, fingers wrapping and holding on tight.

"That's okay," she responds with a disarming smile. "I just wanted to offer, just in case. I know you have Jimin and Jeongguk, too."

At this, you laugh and sink further against the brick wall, tilting your head to rest against the scratchy, unwelcoming surface. "I do have them…for better or worse."

Hyejin laughs in understanding, then she rolls her eyes and says, "Jeongguk is so possessive; I thought the two of you were dating when you first started coming around."

"Oh?" you respond, a bit surprised by this news. Admittedly, when you first began coming to Paradise, you thought there was something going on between the two of them. It took a couple nights to realize that the way Hyejin hangs off of and pouts at her manager is all an act. "We're…not…" you begin, trailing off, unsure what to say.

"He clearly has feelings for you, regardless," she adds, and you search her face and fidget in place. Hyejin seems genuine and sweet, but you are so used to women in this line of work having ulterior motives and using kindness as a tool to gain information and an upper hand. But that does not seem to be what she is doing, and you let out the breath that had gotten trapped in your lungs and nod, chuckling lightly.

"Yeah," you admit, feeling your cheeks warm. "He…certainly does."

"Oh my god," Hyejin teases, squeezing your hand until you look at her wide, beaming smile. "You like him too, don't you?"

Try as you might to shake your head and mutter, "No," she mirrors the movement, laughing and practically shouting, "Yes, you definitely do! You are a terrible liar, dove!"

"It's…complicated," you mutter, squeezing your eyes shut with embarrassment.

A sweet giggle flits through the air like a flutter of butterflies, and you open your eyes to find Hyejin regarding you with the sweetest smile.

"I won't judge you," she assures, giving your hand another squeeze. "I don't know a lot about your relationship, but Jimin has mentioned you are dating two men, which…honestly, sounds like a dream come true."

Your heart seizes a bit around the word dating, and you swallow thickly and nod, unwilling to go down that path. Nothing has ever been established, despite your confessions of love and the huge, expensive fake-engagement ring that sits in your dark, empty bedroom. Sometimes, if you allow yourself to dwell on it, both the distance and time spent away from them make you worry that things may have an end date that is sooner than you expect.

But none of this is pertinent enough information to share at a time like this, so you smile as convincingly as you can while saying, "It has its perks."

Hyejin returns your smile and closes the already meager space between the two of you to press a kiss against your cheek. Her mouth is soft and warm, and you let your eyes flutter closed, smiling from the smell of bluebells and apple that fills your senses. As she pulls her lips back, she stays close, cradling your chin with her hand while opening her mouth to continue speaking. However, the back door flies open, cutting off what she was going to say.

The sight of Jeongguk looking around the corner makes you gasp and back up, kicking up a flurry of feelings in your chest. Despite nothing happening between you and Hyejn, this feels like too precarious of a position to be caught in suddenly. Daresay, it may appear somewhat intimate.

Jeongguk's expression is wide and shocked, but it quickly melts to intrigue. He steps outside and approaches, slinging an arm over both your shoulder and Hyejin's.

"Well, what have we here?" he asks with a tone that is far too gleeful for anyone's good.

"I was just telling our dove that I am here if she needs anything, and then I gave her a kiss on the cheek," Hyejin says, turning to Jeongguk and standing on her toes to plant her lips against his jaw.

Jeongguk looks affronted and gasps as she says, "There, now nobody is left out."

"Listen, I'm not here to break up whatever is going on between my favorite girls." Jeongguk says, gaze on you as he raises an eyebrow and adds, "I just didn't know our doll swings both ways."

Feeling indignant and a little claustrophobic, you shrug away from Jeongguk's arm and give his shoulder a shove.

"For your information, I go…all ways…" you mutter with a grimace, trailing off because you do not owe him an explanation. Labels for sexual orientation may work for some, but they have never been your thing; you like people for people, and it is as simple as that. Defensive, you add, "But she was just giving me a friendly little kiss on the cheek, so it doesn't matter."

Jeongguk grunts unconvincingly, then leans in close to say, "But a kiss between friends can easily spiral into something more, can it not?"

With that, Jeongguk takes a step back, leaving you standing shell-shocked and ready to smack him. Jeongguk winks and says, "Hyejin-noona, when you're ready, I have some things I wanna go over with for tonight," then he walks inside.

Hyejin holds out her elbow, asking, "Shall we?" and you lift a hand to slide against her soft skin, allowing her to lead the way.

Once you are back inside, the bachelorette group is still at the back bar, drunker and louder than when you left them, and you wave Hyejin and Jeongguk off as you walk over and allow the women to pull you into their chaotic little group for shots.

You wake up late in the evening with a hangover after hanging with the bachelorette group the night and morning before, taking shot after shot of overly sweet liquor that was far too strong for its own good. It feels like it has been ages since you have felt so awful, and the thought of having even a drop more of alcohol makes your stomach churn.

So, tonight, rather than go to Paradise, you decide to visit the dance studio to practice the floor moves Jimin has been teaching you. Although you are still certain you have no desire to dance at the club, practicing the moves has been cathartic. And it helps you slow down on drinking. Being a lush for a while has definitely been one way to handle your myriad tumultuous emotions, but the hangovers are too frequent, and after what you felt earlier today, you are eager to change your ways.

Dancing also makes you feel sexy. You enjoy watching the way your body can curve and flex, bending and swaying in ways you had never really attempted before. Tonight you alternate between taking moves slowly on the floor, facing away from the mirrors, before attempting to add speed and flow to them while watching your reflection.

With the cassette mixtape that Jimin has scribbled Whore Mix onto playing through the boombox, you stretch on a dark purple yoga mat that sits in the center of the floor while a sultry voice sings and raps over a beat that begs your hips to move, with the mirrors to your left and the studio door behind you.

The approaching click-clack of boots against the wooden floor that greets you does not strike you as odd at first; you have grown accustomed to Jimin and his affinity for boots. So you continue practicing without turning to greet him.

Anchored back on your elbows, sitting on the mat on your left hip, with both legs bent, you stretch your right leg straight and fan it out at an angle lifted in front of you. In the same fluid motion, you lift your left leg, creating a v-shape in the air. Then you curl your legs in, trying to perfect the graceful movement that Jimin is so good at, twisting until you are on your right hip.

Only when clapping echoes through the room do you realize that the boots had stopped moving and that the tell-tale frenetic energy Jimin always brings to the studio is missing. You turn with a gasp and find Jeongguk standing in the center of the room, wearing his standard all-black. His button-up is undone enough to show a dip of his chest, as always, with no shirt underneath, and it is tucked into black slacks that are so fitted, the material strains against his thighs when he shifts from one foot to the other.

"My, my," Jeongguk teases, approaching before squatting beside you. "What have I walked in on?"

Instinctively, you lean away, feeling warmth flood your cheeks. You sit wearing a tight purple sports bra and very tight, very short black athletic shorts, making you self-conscious to be met with such a hungry stare, especially knowing that he had been watching you, just now.

"Jeongguk," you mutter, having to clear your throat to get more sound out. "What are you doing here?"

"I was coming to see if Jimin was here. Wanted to run a few things by him."

You nod, feeling like a fish out of water with how your mouth hangs open. Jeongguk's cologne is stronger than usual and a little different tonight—musky and floral with hints of spice—and you find it incredibly intoxicating.

"But what I found is far more enticing," Jeongguk continues with a smirk.

Silence falls between you, and you feel your hands prickle with sweat. All you can think about is that kiss in Hong Kong and the chemistry you found in his lips—how delicately he asserted control but never pushed or pulled too much, causing you to unravel in moments. You want to feel that again—want to feel him again—so much that it seems like a bad idea for you to be left alone with him, like this. Flirting in the club, with people around, is one thing, but here, alone, seems dangerous.

Jeongguk stands, and you let out a heavy breath, then swallow a lump, feeling relief wash over you at the thought of him leaving. But then he walks over to the corner, to where some black chairs are shoved together, and he grabs one. Anxiety washes over you when he begins to bring the chair over, boot heels echoing loudly against the floor as he places it beside you and has a seat. He spreads his legs and leans forward, resting his wrists against his knees, tattooed hands so close you could reach out to him.

With his lips tugged into a sharp grin, he says, "Let me see that move again."

You must look as stunned as you feel, blinking up at him, because he chuckles and raises his pierced eyebrow, clearly amused by your lack of response.

"Come on, dollface," Jeongguk teases, leaning even closer and dropping his voice far too low for comfort. "Don't be shy."

Even as nervous as you are under his piercing stare, you like the attention he gives you. But continuing what was started between you without Yoongi or Namjoon present feels wrong, and it stirs up guilt and shame, starting in your tummy and working its way to your throat. You want to show Jeongguk your moves and crawl to him, grind your hips over his lap until he calls you noona and begs you for more. But not here. Not like this.

Luckily, the click-clack that actually belongs to Jimin's boots storms down the hallway and into the room, giving you an out.

"I told you to meet me in my office," Jimin complains, approaching with his hands on his hips, one balled into a fist that holds onto a manilla envelope. "Why did you come here? To bother her?"

"I must have misread the text," Jeongguk responds, eyes still on you while they glimmer mischievously before turning his attention to Jimin. "Office…dance studio…same thing."

Jimin lunges forward and slaps the envelope against the back of Jeongguk's head, saying, "Not the same thing, and you know it!" before shoving the document into his hands.

You watch somewhat stunned as Jeongguk's mouth falls agape, and he chuckles. Then, as he begins to open and read through the contents of the folder, you take your leave, rolling the yoga mat in your hands as you walk away. Draped over one of the black chairs in the corner is a black hoodie and sweatpants, and you pad over, set the mat onto a chair, and slink into the garments, keeping your hair tucked into the shirt and the hood pulled low over your face.

"Gonna head back to work," Jimin says in a flurry, exiting just as fast as he arrived with the folder in his hand. "Come to the club if you want. Or call me if you need anything."

With a nod, you turn on your toes and begin for the door.

"And just where are you going?" Jeongguk asks, stopping you in your tracks and pushing a sigh from your lungs.

"Home," you say before your lips flounder, and you correct yourself, heavy-blinking. "Jimin's place."

With a hum, Jeongguk stands and says, "I'll drive you," picking up his chair to bring it back to where he got it from.

Although you have made no plans for a ride, you know that Hoseok was at the club earlier, and you had planned to call and see if he was around. Jeongguk giving you a ride would definitely be convenient, but is that something you want right now?

"You have work to do," you insist, shaking your head and feeling nervous at the thought of being in a vehicle alone with him.

But Jeongguk sets the chair down, takes you by the back of the arm, and begins to usher you rather forcefully out the door. As your sneaker heels dig into the wooden floor, rubber squeaking with each step he makes you take, you feel petulant, and you are dragged to the dark hallway before you manage to yank yourself out of his grasp and take an uneasy step back.

"What the fuck are you doing?" you ask, feeling anger rise and fighting the urge to slap him.

"What?" Jeongguk says through a chuckle, looming over you while he steps forward, closing the distance with each step you take backward until you hit the wall. "You're dancing like a whore now, so I figured you wanted to be treated like one, too."

Although you feel anger buzzing through you like a livewire, sending every nerve on high alert, more than anything, you feel deflated. Despite Jimin jokingly using that word to tease you, there is something about the way Jeongguk says it—something almost sardonic and mocking in his tone, met with how forcefully he dragged you out of the room. It settles like bile in your guts and makes you feel extremely uncomfortable.

But, rather than put up a fight and challenge him, you storm away, shoving past his weak attempt to hold you back as you stomp toward the door.

"Hey," Jeongguk calls, heavy footsteps trailing behind you. "What's the matter with you?"

Unable to hold in your rage, you spin on your toes, shoving your palms against Jeongguk's chest as you say, "What's the matter with you?"

Jeongguk hardly flinches, and when you step forward to push him again, he grips onto your wrists and holds you still, tugging you close to him but not in a way that is meant to be rough or suggestive. He almost looks worried, brows knit as he studies your face.

"Hey, hey," he mutters, holding onto you just tight enough that you have no choice but to stop lashing out.

Somehow it works. Maybe because you are exhausted, or maybe it is the floral, musky scent of his cologne—or a combination of things wrecking your tiny sense of sanity—but you hold still and let Jeongguk softly shush you while rubbing his thumbs over the knobby joints in your wrists.

"I don't like it when you talk about women that way," you say, feeling a swell of sadness fill your chest. You are aware that this is likely a trauma response to the way men have treated you in the past, but you need to at least attempt to establish a boundary. "I know we joke about it at the club, but the way you said it, I—" You close your eyes and shake your head.

"When have I ever talked about women that way?" Jeongguk asks, voice sounding more defensive than apologetic. "Look, I was joking. I'm sorry."

"Just don't do it, okay?" you insist, yanking your hands away until Jeongguk relents and folding your arms over your chest. "I was a whore before, Jeongguk. Is it so terrible? Do you really need to make it sound so demeaning? Yoongi's mother was a whore, too, you know."

Jeongguk's face pales, and he appears angry for a split moment, but you do not attempt to argue. Perhaps it is out of pocket to bring up Yoongi's dead mother, but you were a part of the honey bees who came after her; you belonged to the same organization, come hell and high water.

"You're right," he says, taking a step back and sliding his hands into his pockets. "I don't look down on sex workers, and I shouldn't talk as if I do. I'm sorry I offended you. I know that we make jokes, and I guess I got carried away. I didn't consider how even playful actions might bring up bad memories for you, and I get what that's like."

Surprised and unsure what to say, you rock on your feet a little before settling on, "Okay."

"My mother was a whore too," Jeongguk adds, stepping forward slowly. "I never held it against her. Even when it got her killed, I never thought badly about her."

There it is, once more—the taste of guilt.

"Jeongguk," you say, taking a step forward, but he holds up his hand and shakes his head.

"I offended you. I'm the one apologizing. Let me make it up to you by driving you home?"

You nod, conceding. "Alright."

The walk to Jeongguk's black sports car is quiet in a way that feels charged and awkward, but as you settle in, you begin to relax. Silence continues to hang during most of the drive, and all the while, you think of Yoongi. As you stare out at the city lights that fade the further you get from the city, you wonder how he must be doing and whether he will return home soon.

"Did you supply the heroin?" you ask without thinking, staring out at the dark roads past the city line.

As silence stretches, part of you worries that Jeongguk might be offended by your question, and you keep your eyes on the shadowed hints of trees, refusing to acknowledge the expression on his face.

Finally, Jeongguk mutters a simple, "No," and you allow yourself to regard him.

Jeongguk's jaw is tense, and he stares ahead at the road, tonguing on the inside of his mouth while both hands tightly grip the steering wheel.

"I didn't think you did," you respond softly, watching as his pierced eyebrow raises. "I don't know why I felt compelled to ask."

Jeongguk's gaze flicks to you, then back on the road. "Because you overheard my conversation with Namjoon that morning outside your bedroom. And because I was the one in charge of the drug operations."

"Yeah," you respond with a shrug. "But I don't think you would be that careless."

With a hum from Jeongguk, silence settles once more. You relax back in your seat, watching the road curve and become a little hilly before evening out. By now, you are familiar with this stretch, anticipating the sight of the property to come into view very soon.

Whenever you pass the mansion these days, it is dark and quiet. If not for the outdoor security lights, it would be nothing more than a looming shadow—a silhouetted remnant of lives at a standstill. Namjoon must sleep in his own home, and from time to time, you consider walking down the dirt and gravel path to his property to see him.

But everything feels off balance in a way that you struggle to reconcile, and you feel like you need a little more time. You fish your phone from your hoodie pocket and check his Instagram feed, sad to see he has not posted anything to his story.

Namjoon likes to post his workout routines, what he is listening to, and shots from trips to museums. Lately, though, he barely shares anything, making the lack of his presence feel heavier. You nearly ask Jeongguk to drop you off at his place, but you cannot seem to open your mouth to get the words out.

Instead, you text him.

You: It's hard to keep tabs on you when you don't post story updates.

The message feels stupid, and you chew on the inside of your mouth once you hit send, staring at the screen and hoping that when he sees it, he does not find it annoying. Is there a chance of him being offended?

Three dots appear and disappear, over and over, making the anxiety in your tummy frantically build and crash like a wave pool that has just been switched on. But then he sends a simple little sentence that stirs both immense joy and deep, profound sadness—

Namjoon: I miss you too, sweetheart.

—and you stare down at it until your vision blurs with tears.

As you open your mouth to ask to be taken to Namjoon's house, the dots appear and disappear again, and rather than speak, you clear your throat and wait for him to say more.

"What is it?" Jeongguk asks, and you turn your head to him, confused at first, then realize he may have taken the sound as a feeble attempt at starting a conversation.

"Oh," you respond, "Uh, nothing."

"Alright," Jeongguk says simply as he begins to turn into Jimin's driveway, waiting as the metal gate opens and allows you entrance.

As you pull into the drive, listening to the gate close behind you, the urge to cry becomes more difficult to tamp down. You swallow thickly, blinking away tears as Jeongguk stalls in front of the door.

"You good?" Jeongguk asks, and you turn to regard him, but as soon as you open your mouth to tell him you are fine, the sounds die in your throat, and you have to swallow everything back down again.

"Th-thanks for the ride," you manage to mutter as you get out of the vehicle and run to Jimin's door, punching in an eight-digit code and holding your eyes open as wide as you can manage for the retina scan.

Once inside the dark, empty mansion, you sink against the cold, wooden door, feeling your chest heave with emotion so deep, you become nauseated. Gripped in your fist, your cell phone vibrates, and you lift the device in a shaking hand, checking the notification—

Namjoon: I miss your voice. And your smile. I hope you're taking care of yourself.

—which sends you crashing over the edge as tears pour and your voice comes out in a loud, terrible sob.

Your heart pounds as you cry, feeling the crushing weight of how deeply you miss Namjoon. Although each breath that enters and exits your lungs is a storm, rattling and shaking you to the core, you sniffle and hold your phone tightly in both hands as you place a call. It is late, but Namjoon is responding to texts, so perhaps he is free to talk.

Namjoon picks up on the first ring, and when his deep, surprised voice says, "Hey, sweetheart," you sob even harder. How is it that something so tiny could make his absence feel so much heavier?

"Hey," Namjoon says, sweet and alert, "are you alright? Where are you?"

"I'm okay," you cry, punctuated by a sniffle. "I'm at Jimin's. Everything is fine."

"Everything does not sound fine," Namjoon insists, and you smile softly at his concern, taking in a deep breath. "Do you need something? Can I…can I do anything?"

Namjoon still owes you an explanation, and it is not something you will easily let slip. But you are certain that you cannot continue to keep him at a distance, even if it means putting the much-needed conversation on the back burner. Although life with Jimin has been fun and a little exciting, the loneliness you feel from being away from Namjoon and Yoongi has a tendency to become excruciating.

"Can I see you?" you ask weakly, like a child who is afraid of being scolded.

The soft chuckle that proceeds, "Of course, you can," warms your heart, and you close your eyes and smile wide, clutching your phone tightly to your ear. "Give me ten minutes? I'll be right there."

With a wet, disgusting sniffle, you say, "Okay," and rub the back of your hand against your nose.

"I'll be there soon," Namjoon says as he ends the call, and you nod to nobody as you drop your phone down and clench it to your heart.

It takes effort, but you peel yourself from the floor and kick off your shoes before heading up the stairs to your borrowed bedroom, squinting as you switch on the light. The room is similar to your room in Yoongi's mansion, but the bedding and curtains are pinks and oranges—a permanent sunrise.

As you cross the room to the walk-in closet, you pull off the joggers and athleticwear from earlier and find a cute, soft pair of pink sleep shorts and a matching, loose pink tee. Then you run into the bathroom to brush your teeth. Even though you did not drink anything tonight, you want to kiss Namjoon until your lips bruise, and you need to be minty fresh.

By the time you are rinsing your mouth and wiping your chin off, you hear a loud knocking on the front door, surprised that ten minutes could have passed so quickly. You run out of the ensuite and find your phone on the bed to shoot off a message before heading down to let Namjoon in.

You: One minute!

Although the rest of the mansion is dark, Jimin also has security lights on outside, and they shine through the windows enough to cast a silver glow over the small mezzanine and down the steps. You scurry down quickly, feet carrying you light and fast, and when you get to the front door and fling it open, you hardly have a chance to take in the sight of Namjoon before he is crossing the threshold and lifting you into his arms.

A sob quakes through you as you wrap your arms and legs around him, burying your face into his neck. He smells musky—a bit sweaty—but the bright cologne with gentle floral hints you are used to are present. Namjoon closes the front door, haphazardly steps from his shoes, and makes his way to the stairs, stepping slowly as he holds you tight. If you are not mistaken, it feels like his breathing shutters through him, and you wonder if he may also be crying.

"I'm sorry," you find yourself muttering when the silence stretches on long and oppressive.

Namjoon squeezes you harder.

"No," he says softly, voice trembling, "sweetheart, you have nothing to be sorry for."

"I made you cry," you sob, feeling guilt and sadness fill your lungs until it hurts to breathe.

Namjoon chuckles and sniffles, reaching the top landing of the stairs and turning to the right, toward the only light in the home that is on. He says, "Making someone cry is a side-effect of being in love, I'm afraid," and your heart goes wild behind your ribs, bursting with affection.

"I've missed you so much," you whimper against Namjoon's skin, and when he leans forward and attempts to put you down onto the bed, you tighten your limbs, clinging to him like a koala.

"Let me set you down so we can get comfortable," Namjoon suggests, and you shake your head, groaning as you hold on tighter. He sighs, and tries, "Come on, I want to see you. I want to kiss you."

Once his attempts are futile, Namjoon gets onto his knees on the bed and bends until you are lying on your back with him towering over you. You finally move your head away from his neck and heavy-blink as you meet his eyes—which are bloodshot and blinking back tears.

"I've missed you too," Namjoon says as he kisses you, soft and sweet and warm. "I'm so sorry for everything that happened. I should have told you about everything, but I was scared to."

Namjoon's kisses are salty and wet, and he trembles above you, gripping the blanket tightly in his fists on either side of your head. Finally, you concede to his need to get comfortable, and you press against his chest, rubbing your fingers over soft black cotton.

"Hey, lay down," you say softly, pushing a little harder. "You were right, let's get comfortable."

Namjoon sighs through his tears and gets up onto his knees, then crawls over to the pillows and makes a feeble attempt at moving the bright pink and orange floral comforter away. You sit up and help him, then run to the door to close it before adjusting the dimmer switch, lowering the lights just enough so that you can still see him.

When you turn back to the bed, Namjoon has figured out the comforter, which is bunched up at the end of the against his feet, and he is sitting against the wooden headboard with his hands in his lap, watching you with a soft expression while tear tracks shimmer against his cheeks. He wears a black tee and black joggers, with his legs extended out but one leg bent slightly at the knee, and he is breathtaking—just as you remembered him. Maybe even more so.

He has gotten a haircut recently, just above his ears, making him look younger. And it is darker; a more natural color. Some time ago—maybe a few days, or maybe a week—Namjoon posted a mirror selfie of the cut, obstructed mostly by his phone, and you are happy to finally see it in person.

As you get onto the bed, on your knees, Namjoon reaches for you, pulling against the backs of your thighs until you have no choice but to straddle his lap, giggling at his insistence. You settle and drape your wrists over his shoulders to rub your fingertips over the short hairs on his nape while Namjoon's smile oscillates between joy and sadness.

"I want to tell you I'm sorry," you begin, without giving him a chance to speak. You have been thinking about this every sober waking moment of however much time has passed—and some intoxicated moments, as well—and you feel it is necessary to get it off your chest. Emotions rise as you gather your thoughts, and your next exhale comes out shaky. "I was angry in Paris, but the things I said to you and Yoongi did not come from the heart. I was hurt, and I still am, but…I don't understand addiction. I have no idea what Yoongi must be going through, and I—"

You choke on a sob suddenly as a flash of Yoongi's face comes into view. The hurt way in which he stared ahead, straight through you, while you screamed and cried and demanded to be taken home.

Gently, Namjoon rubs his hands up and down your back, covering you in comforting warmth. His smile is sad, but he does his best to show that he is listening and that he is receptive to what you need to say.

"I just feel so awful," you continue as tears fall. You are so tired of crying and hurting, but it is a necessary step in healing, and you do your best to let it quake through you and settle into your bones. "I love Yoongi. I don't want him to be in pain."

"He knows," Namjoon finally says, but you screw your eyes closed and shake your head. He may have an idea of what you are going through, but he needs to hear from you that you are sorry. You need to tell him, yourself. "Yoongi using again was a bit of a surprise to all of us. Although it is something I always fear may happen again, I really had no idea it would happen like that, especially on vacation."

"When is he coming home?" you ask, feeling hopeful.

"Less than a week," Namjoon responds, smiling sweetly as he lifts his hands to thumb away the tears on your cheeks. "I have cleaned out the mansion, and Jeongguk has made sure the team taking over his responsibilities knows that heroin and other opioids are off limits. Jeongguk was already avoiding selling either in the first place, but he has reiterated that fact, to be on the safe side."

"That day, outside my room, you said there was a package with what looked like heroin," you say, watching as Namjoon's face screws up with worry. You grimace, adding, "I'm sorry I was eavesdropping."

"That…I still don't have all the details ironed out," Namjoon responds sullenly, "but I am certain that Jeongguk had nothing to do with it. Yoongi admitted that he had sent for the package on his own, and it arrived from overseas with a bunch of tailored suits. I don't know how he got a connect in Italy, but I really shouldn't be surprised; Yoongi knows people everywhere."

You nod somewhat listlessly, waiting for the crucial detail where Namjoon tells you he threatened the Italian guy, or found some way to rough him up—whatever the case—in order to keep him from sending Yoongi junk again. But when he does not continue, worry and sadness sink into your tummy like a brick.

"So…" you begin, heavy-blinking and feeling at a loss for words before settling on, "...how do we make sure he doesn't use again?"

Although Namjoon continues to smile, his eyebrows pinch sympathetically, and he returns to rubbing your back.

"We just love and support him," he offers, which feels both gigantic and minuscule, all things considered. "We continue to be there for him and…hope that it is enough."

"That's it, huh," you sigh, defeated.

"Yeah."

Silence hangs, and you let your vision blur, attempting to sort out what you could possibly do. What if loving Yoongi is not enough? What if the pressures of his lifestyle only continue to press and press on him until he sinks another needle into his vein, desperate for relief?

"I wish he could just…not do this anymore," you mutter, blinking Namjoon back into focus. "Maybe having all this power and responsibility is too much."

With a sad chuckle, Namjoon nods. "Yeah, well…the only way out of a life like his is death."

Although that is not the response you want, it is the one you expect, and you lean heavily into Namjoon, accepting it for now. There is not much more to say until Yoongi is back.

"Can we sleep?" you ask, feeling your body become weighted down with exhaustion and warm with a comfort you have not felt in what has seemed like eons.

"I would love to sleep," Namjoon responds sweetly, releasing you from his hold as you slide down to the bed and begin to reach for the comforter.

Namjoon gets out of bed to turn off the light, and for a split moment, in the cold, crushing dark, you begin to feel anxiety rush over you. In the cold, crushing dark, you are alone, alone, alone, isolated and heavy and so terribly scared. But then the bed dips, and warmth slides into place beside you. Limbs settle with a familiar weight, and suddenly, the darkness feels and smells like home.

"I love you," you tell the darkness, gasping when lips graze your cheek, your nose, and finally, your mouth.

"I love you, too," the darkness tells you sweetly as you begin to drift to sleep.

Tonight, you did not get to kiss Namjoon until your lips bruised, but you feel satisfied with the fact that you were able to lighten the burden of heavy sadness just a little. And, in a matter of days, when you have the same conversation with Yoongi, it may not go the same way, but at least the three of you can continue to take steps in the right direction, and that allows you to sink into sleep with a smile on your face.

When you wake up alone, your first instinct is to panic. You sit up with a start and check for any sign of Namjoon, but the ensuite door is wide open, and there is no sound coming from inside. The spot where he had slept is cold, and you begin to worry that it was all a dream and that he was never here at all.

Frantically, you begin to search for your phone, which is not on your bedside table where you usually keep it, feeling the overwhelming urge to cry take over. What happened last night, and why is there no trace of him to be found?

With a deep breath, you close your eyes and run over the events of the night. You came in and changed, then you messaged Namjoon to let him know you were going down to let him in. Vaguely, you remember tossing your phone to the bed, and you begin yanking at your comforter, desperate to find it.

Your phone must have been wrapped up in the bedding, because after only a moment of tussling and searching, you hear a nice loud thunk against the floor, at the foot of the bed. You let out an exasperated sigh and crawl to the edge, draping your body over the end as you reach and search for the device that has managed to find its way just under the bed frame.

As soon as it is in your hand, you turn on the screen, eager to find evidence of Namjoon's existence, with your torso suspended in air. As soon as you see a notification from two hours ago, you smile and wiggle backward into a seated position to properly read it.

Namjoon: Hey, sweetheart, I'm so sorry I left while you were still asleep. I tried to wake you, but you were out cold. I'll be visiting Yoongi this afternoon. If you want to come along and you see this before 2 PM, let me know. Otherwise, I hope to talk to you soon. Thank you for letting me in this morning; I slept better than I have in weeks. I love you.

Although affection blooms brightly in your chest, you feel sadness squeeze you tight, like an old friend. You do want to see Yoongi. You want to see him so badly, it hurts. But you are not sure you want to see him before he comes home. Wherever he is staying, and whatever state he may be in…you are not sure that you are prepared for that.

It is only 1:45 PM, so you decide to call Namjoon. Not only are you eager to hear his voice once more, but you are not eager to voice what is in your heart over text.

He picks up on the second ring, sounding a bit winded when he says, "Hey, sweetheart."

"Namjoon," you respond brightly, smiling widely. "Hey, I just woke up and saw your message."

"Ah," he responds, breathing heavily, "what time is it?" After a pause, he shouts, "Oh, shit, Gguk, I gotta go!"

You laugh as you hear them chatter lowly, then say their goodbyes, imagining how adorable Namjoon becomes when he is frantic—eyes wide and worried while he flails his muscular limbs around somewhat aimlessly.

"Gguek and I were working out," Namjoon says as you hear the sound of a door open and shut. "Lost track of time."

You smile, nibbling your lip. "Good thing I called."

"Good thing, indeed. So, did you—"

You don't mean to cut Namjoon off, but there is enough of a break between his statements, that you say, "Listen, Namjoon, I'm—" then halt, realizing you had spoken over him.

"Go on," Namjoon urges, and you close your eyes, listening to the sounds of his breathing, of birds singing around him, and of feet walking somewhat frantically down the dirt and gravel path between mansions.

"I don't think I can go," you finally say, feeling meek and embarrassed as your voice drops and comes out with a tremble. "It's just…I don't know what to expect, and it…it scares me."

Namjoon says nothing for a few moments, and it makes you worry. But then you hear him keying in the passcode to his home and let yourself breathe. He is probably too stressed to be multitasking while in a rush.

"Can I call you back? Or maybe we can talk about this later?" Namjoon finally asks, and you let out an even deeper sigh in relief. "I don't blame you at all for not wanting to come, but it feels like there is more you need to get off your chest. I have to take the fastest shower of my life, though, so that I can leave soon."

"Yeah, no…yeah. That's…" you stammer, squeezing your eyes closed and allowing yourself to smile while hot tears run from your eyes. Namjoon is so kind and understanding—so caring and giving. Affection burns for him, and you want to hug him so tight and never let him go. "If you want to tell Yoongi that we talked, I think it might make things easier for me later, but do whatever feels right…I don't know."

"I'll tell him what we discussed," Namjoon responds breathily as feet storm up a flight of stairs. "I know it'll make him happy to hear how you are doing, and how you have been handling things. I'm bringing him home in four days, so we can all sit down whenever you feel ready."

Four days is not soon enough, yet it feels like no time at all. Looming and terrifying, yet promising.

"Okay, sounds good. Thank you, Namjoon."

When Namjoon says, "I love you so much, sweetheart. Thank you for calling," your heart squeezes, and more tears fall, cascading like tiny waterfalls.

"I love you, Namjoon. Drive safe."

"Will do. Bye."

You mutter, "Bye," but your finger is already pressing the end call button, giving Namjoon all the time and space he needs to get ready. And then you hug your phone tight to your chest and continue to cry.

Somehow, the happy tears feel thicker and hotter than sad tears—more present and urgent. If Yoongi comes back in four days, that means it has been just over two weeks in Jimin's home. You heavy-blink in an attempt to conceptualize the time, feeling ashamed by how little of it you remember. Briefly, you worry that you may have imposed, but Jimin has never so much as hinted at that fact, so you allow yourself to let the idea go.

It is difficult, at times, to accept the many ways in which you are loved. It feels strange to look back on how you ended up tangled in this web, with these men. Part of you wishes you and Yoongi could start over—meet organically and fall together not because of proximity and a need to cure a deep, aching loneliness that had built over years, but because you simply want to.

But could you simply want to fall in love with the head of a crime syndicate? No, you think. Probably not.

Still, how do you explain that to someone who asks? I was kidnapped as collateral, but we fell in love feels like a story not too many people would understand. Probably, the average person would ask if you were alright and attempt to help you find refuge. Probably, they would be in their right mind to do so.

The next three days drag. Knowing that you will see Yoongi and Namjoon again soon has you a little on edge, but not necessarily in a bad way. Your dancing suffers for it, and you find your movements too stiff, too off-beat; your head and your heart are clouded, and you cannot seem to get your body to do anything. Still, you try. Wasting away drinking at Paradise does not feel like the best way to spend your lonely nights, but you want to wait for Yoongi's return before spending too much time with Namjoon.

Although the three of you have different bonds and dynamics, you almost feel guilty at the thought of hogging Namjoon to yourself while Yoongi is out healing in the countryside. Despite knowing he would tell you not to worry—to be with Namjoon and keep him company.

And, part of you thinks of this time as getting your last moments in with Jimin before moving out of his space. You have not voiced it, but you have been going out of your way to spend just a little more time with him after work, before the two of you crash for the morning and sleep, curled up on the couch with whichever anime he feels like playing in the background—currently, Chainsaw Man.

Jimin is phenomenal company, and you have really enjoyed following him around the house while he cooks, practices impromptu dance moves around furniture, and talks about nothing and everything. Even in quiet, still moments eating ice cream in the glow of the television, you feel the bond that has formed quickly and effortlessly, thankful to have a friend and ally on your side.

Despite the budding friendship, Jimin remains a somewhat secretive person. You have learned that his upbringing was privileged and full of wealth, but his parents were not kind about his desire to chase his own dreams instead of taking over the family business, and they quickly cut him off when he went to school for contemporary dance. It took no time at all for Jimin to wind up houseless, using his beauty to sleep with wealthy men and women for a meal and a warm bed.

When Yoongi's mother found Jimin on the streets, she took him in with the promise of a better life, but how he came to replace her is unknown. How long Jimin spent on the streets, the kinds of things he saw in that time…all of those details, he hides behind a bright, practiced smile, only given away by the sadness that pours from his beautiful, round eyes.

"I see myself in you, dove," Jimin says often, usually accompanied by a side hug or a kiss on the cheek.

And at first, it made you feel strange. Jimin has come so far that maybe, you had originally thought, he sees you as a pet project; someone who needs to be fixed and turned into something beautiful. But now, you know that is not true. You know that Jimin sees persistence and survival; he sees someone imperfect but caring who just needs a little push to understand and figure things out, at times.

Everything he has, he gained with persistence and survival; nothing was handed to him. Yoongi and his men, and possibly Yoongi's mother, taught Jimin the skills he knows today, that make him who he is. None of them became this successful alone; all seven of them play a crucial role. Eight, now, with you.

You feel sentimental tonight when you lean against the bar cradling a glass of whiskey that you have been nursing for the last hour. Tomorrow, Yoongi returns home, and although it has not been voiced aloud, you can tell that the prospect has Jimin and Jeongguk in a better mood. You even spot Seokjin, Hoseok, and Taehyung coming in and out of Paradise, and they all seem chipper.

Jimin is done up with pink and silver stage makeup, with his eyes and lips bright and shining. He wears his standard black satin top tucked into tight, leather black jeans, and tonight, he has a thick black rhinestone choker around his neck.

Jeongguk, on the other hand, is pattern-clashing in a way that is both alluring and confusing. As standalone items, his silk, long-sleeve, plunging neckline leopard print shirt, and tight silver and blue floral lurex pants are solid choices. The shirt's neck falls nearly to his navel, showing beautiful topography of his chest—dips and hills of muscle and golden-tanned skin, accentuated by several mismatched gold necklaces; and the pants shine brightly in every light that dares grace his figure, drawing the eye to his muscular thighs and perky, round ass. But they look so strange and mismatched together, you cannot help but question what on earth he was thinking.

"You sure have a staring problem, tonight," Jeongguk chides as he walks by, sending an inviting wink that makes you laugh far too boisterously.

"Just trying to figure out what you have going on, here," you respond with an incredulous smirk. "Did you get dressed in the dark, Gguk?"

With a roll of his eyes, Jeongguk responds, "Both items are Dolce and Gabbana, but okay."

And, without missing a beat, you say, "Pretty sure Dolce and Gabbana also produce plain clothes that would match better than this. Your black satin shirts would look really good with those pants, and…well, anything else would look good with that shirt."

"I don't expect you to understand fashion," Jeongguk teases, raking his eyes over your form as he takes a step closer.

"Black, Jeongguk," you say, chin tilted high. "You have a closet full of black that would look phenomenal with both pieces."

With Jeongguk stepping into your personal space, that damned cologne hits you, and you begin to lose your composure. He really is suitable for smelling like a bouquet of wildflowers, especially with the spicy musk underneath; it is perfectly him.

"I don't expect someone in boring Vuitton rags to appreciate the nuance," Jeongguk teases, voice dropping lower as he towers before you.

"This dress costs as much as both that shirt and those pants combined," you bicker more quietly than before. The dress you wear tonight is certainly less flattering or flashy than what he wears—a Louis Vuitton brown and black knit mini dress with glitter thread mottling throughout. It has a square, rolled neckline and thin straps, but it hugs your curves nicely, falling mid-thigh. You raise your eyebrow to add, "Boss Min happens to like the way I look in Vuitton rags."

At the mention of Yoongi, Jeongguk softens, and you know you have won this round. Jeongguk scoffs, then slams back the rest of his drink, spinning on his shiny black leather boots before stomping off to where Hyejin and the dancers are congregated behind the main stage, going over something pertaining to the newly installed dance cages on either side of the bar, judging by how she points to them.

You watch as Jeongguk walks away, allowing your gaze to linger on how those gaudy, silver-blue pants shimmer when they hug his ass, thanking your lucky stars that his silly fashion sense has, at the very least, provided you with a good show.

When you turn back to the bar, you drink the rest of your whiskey and ask for another. The night is still young; the club has barely just opened and only a few patrons linger during the hours before the dancers take to the stages, but you have a feeling you are going to need to at least have a steady buzz to handle whatever bullshit Jeongguk is on.

Two hours into your night, you are proven correct during a very flirty conversation with Hyejin about the dance cages—about how she thinks you should make your Paradise debut in one, asking if you would ever let her handcuff you to the bars—when the bartender informs you that the boss would like to see you in his office.

Jimin seldom calls you to his office, but he is the only one who properly has one, so you head toward the back of the main room, past a security guard, and into a hallway that leads to Jimin's office, the dressing rooms for the dancers, and a meeting room that Hyejin and Jeongguk use when they need to.

As you make your way to the door, you can hear the sounds of dancers chattering and laughing coming down the hall, and you assume that Jeongguk must be giving them their nightly pep talk in one of the dressing rooms. You knock twice on the office door, then try the handle. To your surprise, when you enter, the room is empty.

Jimin has allowed you in his space alone plenty of times, so you make your way to have a seat in the leather armchair just in front of his desk. You decide to check your notifications while you wait and pull your phone from a small black purse that is slung over your shoulder.

The door opens and closes behind you, so you put the phone away before you have a chance to turn the screen on. And, instinctively, you stand to greet Jimin, surprised when you turn to find Jeongguk closing in, fast.

Before you have a chance to speak, Jeongguk has the armchair shoved away, caging you against Jimin's desk, leaning close and low with both of his hands gripping the wooden surface. You practically sit against the edge, doing your best to lean back and away from Jeongguk, but he is a persistent, towering presence, and he wastes no time dragging his lips over your neck, just below your ear, sending a rush of arousal tingling through you at the touch. The scent of his cologne has your senses simultaneously dulled and on high alert.

"Jeongguk," you gasp, attempting to twist away but finding you do not want him to stop. "We can't—"

"I know," Jeongguk responds, voice deep and silky, lips dipping lower, dragging across your throat and leaving only the faintest hint of a spit trail. "Just want to tease you a little; make you squirm."

"Why?" you breathe, leaning back to create more space.

When Jeongguk does not move, you lift your hands and press against his chest, attempting to push him back, but your palms slide on the silk shirt, and you wind up rubbing over his nipples, feeling metal under the drag of skin, causing Jeongguk to hiss as you gasp. Arousal builds and builds, and you squeeze your tights together, desperate to stave off the effect he has on you; you are, admittedly, touch-starved and somewhat feral.

"I know you feel it, too," Jeongguk practically groans, still leaning way too close, voice spoken beside your ear. "We have undeniable chemistry."

"Of course I feel it," you respond, closing your eyes in an attempt to get your bearings while your heart pounds dizzyingly fast.

Jeongguk asks, "Do you know how fucking hard it is to keep my hands off you?" in a tone that almost seems steeped in pain.

"Yes," you mutter softly, nodding shallowly. "I think I do."

With a sigh, Jeongguk finally takes a step back, but he stays close enough that you have to crane your neck; there is no room for you to stand away from the desk. The two of you stare at one another, and then Jeongguk scoffs and shakes his head.

"Seeing you around so much has been…god, you drive me insane."

You chuckle, though you feel somewhat awkward being faced with his admission. Although, truth be told, being in Jeongguk's proximity so much during the last few weeks has also made you want to see him more and more; you know that, once you return to your normal life, you will come to miss him a lot. Or, perhaps, you can continue spending time at Paradise; there is nothing saying you cannot.

"Last night, when I dropped you off," Jeongguk says, reaching up to gently cradle your chin in his hand, surprising you with his shift in demeanor, "were you crying?"

Although you glance away to respond, shyness rises, you nod slightly and say, "Yeah."

"Was it something I said?"

Quickly, you nod and return your gaze to Jeongguk, who looks genuinely concerned. "No. I was crying because I was missing Yoongi and Namjoon."

Jeongguk hums, drops his hand away, and takes a step back.

Suddenly, the silence feels heavy, and you struggle to identify his reaction. He very clearly knows your involvement with both men, so why tense up at the mention of them?

"What's the matter?" you ask, unwilling to let anything weird hang between you.

Jeongguk shrugs, but his eyes are on the floor, and it is clear that something is bothering him.

"Jeongguk," you insist.

He sighs, and, without looking at you, says, "It just sucks that when things become normal again with you guys…I just…it's been nice to see you here."

"Ah," you respond. And you get it; it has been great to be around here and see him, Jimin, and Hyejin regularly.

"But Yoongi will return and demand all your attention—" Jeongguk practically snarls, and you tut your tongue at him, staring incredulously as he balks at the interruption.

"Yoongi does not demand anything from me," you say, standing up straight now that there is some space between the two of you. You feel defensive, but you can understand where Jeongguk is coming from; you really have not had any independence since moving into the mansion, but part of that is not having any direction or much desire to venture out, finding comfort and safety behind the familiarity of those walls. "Honestly, I have been loving it here. It's nice to leave the house for no occasion and see other people. I consider Hyejin and Jimin friends, and it has been so great having friends again. I don't want to suddenly stop seeing them. Or you."

"Won't you have your hands full with both of your boyfriends?" Jeongguk teases, and you are glad to see his mood has at least somewhat lightened; his smile has returned, even if his gaze remains sad.

"Oh they definitely know how to keep my hands full," you respond with a wink, watching as Jeongguk's eyes and mouth widen comically. "But it is also nice having some space. Although I hate how all of this came about, I think taking a step back and allowing myself to really miss them and think about the many facets of our relationship has been important. I needed it."

"So I might actually see you from time to time?" Jeongguk asks, stepping close once more, seeming hopeful. It still amuses you when Jeongguk is all soft edges after so much time spent bickering with one another.

This time, you step in close and rub your palms over his chest, making sure to drag your hands over his pierced nipples, smiling when he shivers beneath your touch.

"We still have to finish what we started in Hong Kong," you say, voice dropped low and intentionally sultry. "I just haven't wanted to do anything without the others present…we haven't really discussed that, and I would feel too guilty leaving them out."

"I understand," Jeongguk responds, leaning into your touch and surprising you with a very soft, very chaste kiss on the lips before he mutters, "Taehyung will fucking kill me if we do anything without him."

Warmth floods your cheeks, and you drop your hands while taking a step back. Even after such a tiny taste, the urge to kiss Jeongguk is too great to stay in such close proximity.

"We're going to have an entire audience, huh?" you ask, feeling more turned on by the prospect than shy.

Jeongguk chuckles and says, "Sounds like we will."

It almost feels surreal to discuss the topic of you and Jeongguk having sex so openly. Although you have had enough whiskey to give you a steady buzz, you are still clear-headed enough to spiral just a little over the thought of his body, and having it all to yourself. That is, unless the others want to play, as well; you really have no idea what to expect, and you are not certain you would deny them if they wanted to.

As you search for a way to end this conversation and return to the main bar before someone begins to notice the two of you are missing, Jimin comes barging in with his brows knit. Although you have done nothing wrong, there is a split moment of panic over how this may look, with the two of you in Jimin's office alone.

But he simply glances between you and Jeongguk, huffs out a sigh, and says, "Oh, thank god. I was hoping to find you two in here."

"What's up?" Jeongguk asks, and you straighten out, worried that something may be wrong.

"One of the regulars came in piss drunk and started harassing Hyejin. He groped her ass and when she slapped him, he got in her face. Security was able to intervene, but I need you to take him out back and fuck him up. Let him know shit like that doesn't fly at Boss Min's lovely establishment."

Anger spikes heavily in your chest, and when Jimin turns to you and adds, "Dove, if you don't mind, I think she could use a friend," you nod, determined to do whatever it takes to make Hyejin feel safe.

"On it," you say, walking past the men, down the short hallway, and out into the bar.

Loud R&B music with a quick, enticing trap beat plays, and you stomp in your overpriced patent leather chelsea boots to the beat, storming into the main bar room like you own the joint and scanning the room for your girl.

Standing at the main bar with her arms pulled tightly over her chest, is Hyejin surrounded by dancers. As soon as you approach, a girl who goes by Lily backs up and opens her arm wide to welcome you into the space. Hyejin is shaking when you drape your arm around her, hugging it loosely across her chest.

"Hey, beautiful," you say, and she turns and melts into you, throwing her arms over your shoulders and letting out a deep sigh. "Want to go out back and have a smoke?"

Hyejin hugs you tight and shakes her head, and you rub your hands over her back, waiting for her response. The dancers begin trickling out, having to get ready to perform, leaving pats on your and Hyejin's backs and soft words of support and encouragement. Once there is more space for her to breathe, Hyejin stands up straight and lets out another deep breath.

She is not crying, though her eyes are red, and when she looks at you with a frown, you gently place your hands at her temples and thumb at the smudged mascara under her eyes before muttering, "Perfect," with a grin.

"I hate men," Hyejin says with a fake snarl, and you roll your eyes and nod dramatically, making her giggle.

"Wanna talk about it?" you ask, and Hyejin shakes her head and says, "No. I want to dance."

Sitting on the bar is a half-empty pint of something bright blue, and Hyejin chugs it back, then leaves the empty glass behind and takes your hand, dragging you to one of the dance cages. The floor of the cage is raised about three feet from the ground and is a glowing octagon of rainbow color. Hyejin, wearing only a black satin bodysuit with lace trim and black stiletto heels, walks around to the back of the cage, closest to the nearby wall, and opens a door that blends in with the bars, then she takes a step up and hoists herself onto the platform.

You follow behind and step up and into the cage, moving to the other side of the space to allow Hyejin to close the door. Although you are no stranger to dancing in sight of others, being in an elevated cage has your nerves spiked, and you wish you had taken a shot or three at the bar before agreeing to follow her.

Hyejin wastes no time closing in on you with her fists around bars on either side of your head, and she holds on as she drops her hips low and swishes back up, all the while keeping her eyes on you. You sway to the beat with slower movements than the ones you watch Hyejin make, feeling entranced by her beauty and struggling to actually move the way she does.

"Are you shy?" she asks with a raise of her eyebrow, and you chuckle, letting go of some of your anxiety while you nod and mutter, "A little."

Hyejin spins with her arms still lifted, and wraps them over your shoulders, then dips down again, rubbing her ass against your thighs before standing up straight. You realize too late that you are frozen in place with your arms somewhat bent, like a Barbie doll, and Hyejin turns and immediately starts to laugh, bending and flinging her hair in front of her face.

"I'm not apologizing for who I am," you whine as you join her in laughing, feeling embarrassed by your inability to act like a normal person around her.

"I would never dream of asking you to," Hyejin says as she leans back against the bars across from you, swaying her hips with an amused grin. "But it is very cute how flustered you get."

You roll your eyes and smile, glad to at least be considered cute. Flirting and being flirted with is hardly an issue, and you would probably relax more around her if things were not so uncertain at the moment, in your love life. You are sure Yoongi and Namjoon would not mind, but it is a conversation you would like to have before you allow yourself to get carried away.

Or, perhaps, there is nothing to allow. Probably, there is no way in which things could get carried away, but you are once again spiraling because Jeongguk has gotten under your skin. With a deep inhale, you remind yourself that Hyejin is likely just being friendly and that you are allowed to relax and have fun with her.

So have fun, you do. The song changes to something with more of a club beat, and Hyejin begins to pump her hands in front of her chest while shaking her ass in overexaggerated movements, gyrating in a chaotic circle. With your hands pulled over your head, you begin doing some wiggle-shake move creating waves all the way down to your legs, laughing as Hyejin throws her hands over her head in an attempt to do the same.

"What do you call this one?" She shouts over the music, and you shake your head and say, "I don't know! The overcooked noodle?"

Hyejin practically throws her body against yours with laughter, and you trip backward, catching yourself with a hand on one of the bars to lessen your collision. There are definitely patrons behind you who have a view of whatever it is the two of you are doing, and you try not to feel too embarrassed.

"Yah," Jeongguk calls, making you attempt to turn around, trapped in place by a hysterical Hyejin. He rounds the platform enough to come into view and grabs onto two of the bars as he teasingly says, "You girls are gonna scare away the customers."

You raise one hand toward him as if threatening to strike him, shouting, "Oh, shut u—" but the word dies as soon as your eyes fall to Jeongguk's knuckles, which are scraped and bloodied.

"Jeongguk, what the fuck?" you ask, reaching for the nearest hand, which he slides away.

Hyejin stands alert, then squats to be at eye-level with Jeongguk, and you fully turn, checking to make sure he has no other cuts or bruises, glad that he seems otherwise perfectly fine.

"Relax," Jeongguk grumbles, tonguing the inside of his mouth while he cracks the knuckles of one fist against his palm, then switches to the other side. "This is nothing; scuff marks. That guy didn't land a single punch before he was lights out."

You sigh but accept that there is nothing you would be able to do to convince Jeongguk not to fuck someone up. It is, after all, something he has likely been trained to do and is celebrated for within the ranks of the family. Still, you hate to see his pretty hands bloodied.

"Well, you know I don't condone violence," Hyejin says, reaching her hands between two bars, smiling when Jeongguk steps closer and allows her to grab onto his wrists. "But I really appreciate you sticking up for me."

"Of course," Jeongguk grumbles, smiling the soft smile that he does when he is attempting to hide the sweetness that festers inside him, threatening to burst. Cute.

With a sigh, Hyejin lifts the wrist that Jeongguk wears his watch on, yanking it close while tilting her head to get a look. "I should go tend to the girls," she grumbles, releasing Jeongguk and standing to give you a kiss on the cheek.

You follow Hyejin's movements, watching which bars are part of the door, nervous that they blend in well enough and that you could be trapped in this cage for the rest of eternity, then you turn back to Jeongguk, who has two hands on two bars, and is staring up at you.

"So," he says, stretching himself tall to speak to you, arching his back and tipping his chin upward. "I was wondering…"

Since you are already in the cage, and Jeongguk had already been a menace to your health and well-being earlier, you decide to take a page out of Hyejin's book and swish your body in an inviting wave as you squat, dragging your hands down the bars but keeping them lifted above your head.

Jeongguk visibly swallows, losing what he was just in the process of saying, and you watch as his eyes trail to where your short skirt hugs your thighs, undoubtedly giving him a view of the black panties you wear underneath. And although you do not mind letting Jeongguk sneak a peek, you are glad that the lights are fairly dim in the club.

"What was that?" you ask, tilting your head to the side and giving a look that feigns innocence.

The expression on Jeongguk's face flashes comically from needy to pained to frustrated, and he huffs out a sigh, shaking his head as if trying to rattle his thoughts free.

"What I was going to say before you so rudely interrupted me, is that we should have dinner soon."

Jeongguk's offer takes a moment to compute, and you stare at him, heavy-blinking, trying to determine whether he is asking you on a date, or if we means more than just the two of you.

"We, as in…"

"You, me, and our men."

"Ah," you respond; that makes sense. "Yeah, we should. That would be fun."

Jeongguk nods, letting his gaze fall once more to your legs before drifting slowly back to your face. "I'll talk to Taehyungah. Perhaps he can host, and I'll cook."

With an incredulous raise of your brow you ask, "Oh, you cook?" in a mocking tone of sheer disbelief.

Jeongguk reaches up and holds his hands over yours, gripping firmly while he leans in, head between the bars and close. From here, you smell his cologne; from here you resist the urge to lean in close and kiss him.

"I happen to be an excellent cook, dollface."

"Is that so?" you ask, voice much less confident than a moment ago.

"That is so," Jeongguk says, then he leans in somehow even closer, making your head spin. "So, it's a date?"

"Yeah," you respond, feeling your heart go wild behind your ribs. "It's a date."

What you did to me made me see the world differently Mis lágrimas se secan solos, solos Pues mírame a los ojos Dime si ves el vacío que deja amor perdido Yo no duermo hasta que mis sueño' están cumplidos Sé que estoy perdiendo, pero el juеgo no ha concluido

🎵 visit the playlist

ahhhh!!! how are we feeling??? i presonally really love this chapter. the next one containing the promised smut™ is coming very, very soon!!!! i promise. i was sad to leave Yoongi out of this chapter, and it was not my intention to have a full chapter without him, but it made sense to split the mega chapter this way, and it felt wrong to rush him back without mc taking time to sort her thoughts out and attempt to gain some independence.

thank you for reading!!! 💜💜💜 reblogs and comments make the world go 'round, and likes are nice too!!!

tag list: @acquiescence804 @afangirllikeme-blog @annacroft23114 @angel-121 @artgukk @btsiguess-kpop @bts-ficreviews @che-er-ful @codeinebelle @curryshesus @dasexydevitt13 @giriiboyy @fakedanger @fringe-frank @illnevertrustmyselfagain @jalexad @juju-227592 @kissme-ornot @leanimal90 @likeshatteredrainbowglass @m1sss1mp @mayeolorie @mgthecat @mushroom-main @mwitsmejk @openup-yourmind @pamzn @sleepilysworld @stocking221 @spookyminyunki @thelilbutifulthings @valhallawhispers @xyahrinx 🗡️ comment or dm to be added!

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#yoongi mafia #yoongi x reader #namjoon mafia #namjoon x reader #jungkook mafia #jungkook x reader #yoongi smut #namjoon smut #bts smut #bts angst #bts mafia #bts poly #namgi smut #fic: collateral #Spotify

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milknhonies · 3 months

Text

The Negatives of Shooting People

Chapter 3 || MasterList || Chapter 5

Chapter Summary: The ten year anniversary soiree is here for August's Lion Lounge club. And he's awfully surprised to see you, an uninvited guest...careful now....

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Gambling, Non-Con, Piss, Manipulation, Threats, Sexual Assualt, Bondage, Murder, Violence, Strangulation, Public Execution, Kidnapping, Bondage, Slight Daddy Kink, Slight Puppy Play Kink, Petnames.

Pairing: Kingpin!August Walker X F!reader

Word Count: 8k

Author Notes: I honestly don't know how to gamble or how it works. I read a quick wiki instruction and played a game. If anyone actually knows how to play, let me know and I'll change the writing.

Inspiring Song: "Poker Face." By Lady Gaga.

07:00pm Friday 16th August 2024, Fortitude Valley, Brisbane.

When Lloyd met you in the foyer and escorted you to the car, you noticed how his neck was tight against his bow tie. His bruised face and knuckles had lightened. He had waxed his moustache and curled the tips upward.

He whistled low and gawked at you all over. Your foot rubbed the back of your calf shyly. You were decadent in pearls and metallic shimmering from your dress.

He reminded you that your role was too find August and do whatever you could to distract him from figuring out that Lloyd, a police officer undercover had infiltrated his event.

Lloyd gave you another hundred dollars and said it was for gambling and pleasure purposes only. If August could be distracted by a drink, a game of poker, a jukebox dance even a pokie machine, that should give Lloyd plenty of time to look around for an illegal weapons auction.

You both got out of the car and found yourself escorted on his arm passed the body guard checking the invites.

You clenched a small purse under your arm tighter as you entered the massive club. It left you briefly speechless.

The floor was covered in black and gold mixed marble. The club was an old building. Probably over a century or two old. It had a huge bar and multiple show rooms. On one stage was a burlesque dancer shaking her covered nipples. In another part was a casino theme of tables and machines. And to the sides were seats, tables and booths.

Lloyd got you both to sit down and he ordered a drink. He sipped his whiskey and glanced at the stairs that spiralled up to more private rooms.

“There he is, balcony, beside the blonde.”

You tried to not be obvious when you looked over your shoulder. August was smirking with a drink in his hand, shaking hands with an old bald gentleman with beady eyes and a brief case.

As that older fellow walked away Lloyd murmured, “And that’s our cue.”

He moved out of his seat and left the whiskey behind.

You waited a few minutes. You stared at the reflection of August in the whiskey glass and bit your lip. That man was a monster. He had raped you, humiliated you and made you scared…except now you had teeth and claws to flex.

You shut your eyes and prayed to get out alive. Picking up the glass you tossed your head back and finished what Lloyd had left. Your lipstick smudged the beautiful glasswork.

You abandoned the booth and deposited the glass.

You turned back and started to glide up those stairs in your small heeled feet. You felt immaculate, confident. And you were sure…he had seen you as you ran your hand up the banister.

You slowly moved around him. He hadn’t turned to look at you yet. A blonde woman was on his other side, whispering in his ear with her seductive rose lips. She was gorgeous, legs long and slender waist. Her dress was a deep burgundy red and her gloves black. She made you look like the frumpiest woman in the club.

You leant against the railing beside them at a respectful distance. You looked over the dance floor. You recognised local representative politicians mingling, kissing, all salacious actions that the average public would be shocked to witness. A Greenie with her tongue down a Nationalists throat.

From your side you could feel his eyes. You couldn't tell if August was glaring daggers, but you knew he had seen you.

Your fingers squeezed the railing tight.

You took a deep breath in and focused not to stutter, “Fancy seeing you here.”

You managed to angle your face his way. You prayed he wouldn't look at your hands, trembling on top of the metal bar.

He looked down at his glass cup. He turned away from his golden haired friend and smirked at you. The woman attached to his side flashed you a sickly fake smile. Her eyes were full of scornful judgement.

He chuckled lightly, eyes raking up and down your body in a way to made you feel like meat in the deli section.

“Well, I do own the club Miss Y/L/N or did you not read my name on the invitation?”

You curled your toes and strained a brave smile, “Oh of course, but business is always busy with men like you…”

You looked away from him briefly, trying to compose yourself. Your hands were starting to shake while your knees felt light. You swallowed hard and returned to face his predator eyes.

“Men like me?” He purred and turned his body to lean on the railing.

You nodded slowly, trying to find a way to answer him and continue the conversation.

“Men like you,” was all you could repeat back firmly. You could feel a line of sweat crawl down the back of your neck.

He chuckled and held his empty cup to his feminine companion.

“Natalie, be a dear and fetch me some Guinness and whatever you’d like.”

Natalie winked at him and gave a girlish laugh when he smacked her backside. You wanted to scoff but at the same time you pitied her. You were scared she would be his next sexual victim. She toddled down the stairs and August slid himself closer to you on the railing. His fingers fluttered and circled around your neck. It was too public a place for him to squeeze any tighter. He couldn’t kill you out here, it was too public. His fingers softly moved over the spot where your pulse sat.

“Why are you here?” He raised his brow to you as he purred, “How did you even get in, huh? I know you didn’t get the invitation…so…have you come to take some more photos? We could have a quick interview in my office if you’d like.”

His lips were amused, but his eyes were dark and annoyed. Annoyed with you.

You shuddered, you weren’t too interested in his offering, but you had to consider how much time Lloyd needed to gain incriminating information. Lloyd didn’t know you had your phone down the front of your dress. It was risky but you wanted to catch anything if the occasion arose.

Your glanced at him, your bottom lip trembled slightly, you nuzzled his hand that started to cup your cheek.

Lightly shaking your head you said calmly, “I got your photos…the envelope…so no photos tonight…”

He chuckled and leered down your chest before leaning in closer to your face moaning, “So…what have you come for?”

You were frustrated that Lloyd really thought you’d be able to do this….this improvisation was nearly impossible when you had to face a man with a mean face. It was the tension of your chest snapping, the breath you were holding broke in a breathy sigh which was close to a gasp.

“The party,” you lied, you leant closer and let your noses touch, “Just to party.”

You laid your hand on his chest and rubbed it in large low circles. The whiskey was warm in your cheeks. You felt daring. Your heart beating strong in your ears. Do it now or you might as well drown. You squeezed your eyes shut and tightened your insides as you pushed up and kissed his mouth. His moustache scratched your top lip as you forced yourself onto him. It was a hard lip pressing peck, you felt his hot breath fan your face. The smell of his malted breath mad a hot light sing in between your legs. Your heart was thundering in your chest,

His wide cold eyes bore into your soul and he chuckled, “You make such a fucking terrible liar.”

It was like he had punched you in the gut the way the air had left your body.

“August dear, I have your drink!” the ringing of Natalie’s voice had his head turned away and letting you go. You couldn’t think, you just stood there absolutely frozen.

August collected his new refreshment, taking an impressive gulp, and you watched him lean closer to the blonde, “The accounts are settled, you can piss off now Nat.”

Her false smile faltered into a malicious smirk. She winked at you before she fled back down the stairs and greeted another gentleman in a tuxedo. You felt sick.

August leant back and cupped your waist in his awfully huge hand, “Let’s take a walk.”

He smirked feeling the shiver roll down your back. His hand squeezed your fingers as he led you down the staircase. You frantically looked out to the room and dance floor. You hoped you might see Lloyd, you might call out for him to save you.

“Ever played Roulette?” he asked setting his empty Guinness on a passing waitress tray.

You shook your head and heard him chuckle, “Of course you haven’t, good girl like you hasn’t done many things at all.”

You were slightly offended by his wording no matter how much it might’ve been true deep down.

He put his hand back to your lower back and led you to the casino rooms. There were multiple tables with different games involving cards and chips. But there was a long table surrounded by at least twenty or thirty well dressed men with their arm candy super model women. At the end was a dealer with a long metal pole. He wore a golden coloured suit. He looked serious and when his eyes caught the sight of August that cold aura disappeared. A giant smile graced his cranky appearance.

“Want to join the game sir?” he asked, “We just finished a game.”

August smiled and said, “Yes, give me ten black chips, six purple and…” he sucked his teeth, “Six yellow.”

The dealer smiled and nodded, he handed his boss, your rapist, the eftpos machine before pushing some chips towards the edge of the table you both next to.

Your eyes widened. The black chips had the number of one hundred, the purple was five hundred and the pretty yellow chips were decorate with a one and three zeros. You had a wild guess that those digits were the amount of money he was putting on the table.

To August it was nothing.

The dealer was selling other chips to the players that were from the old game wanting to buy more while August groped your hip and pressed his nose to your ear, “Lets start off easy, pick, red or black.”

You looked at the table, there were numbers between zero and thirty six. Half the numbers were covered in red, the other half in black. Your mouth felt dry. You really didn’t know what you were doing.

“Bl-“ you cleared your throat as his hand cupped your backside under the table, “Black.”

He smiled, “Now pick, do you prefer even numbers or odd?”

You looked over the red squares and noticed how half looked odd and the other half was even, you weren’t sure if this would help or set you back.

“Odd numbers,” you whispered.

His breath was hot and his eyes were trapping you where you stood. You felt embarrassed to meet his looks.

“Dealer, One hundred on Black and one hundred on Odds.”

The dealer smirked, you knew that dealer knew this wasn’t really Augusts choice.

He spun the wheel that had a metal ball tapping along inside. Round and round the crimson and black. The ball landed onto black thirty five. You held your breath.

“And now,” August purred, “You’ve just won an extra two hundred dollars pup.”

The light in your chest bloomed with excitement, the butterflies rained like a storm in your belly. You were amazed at how it was to win so quickly…but then what if it was red even that won? Or just black and even? Would you have lost it all? Half? You were tickled with curiosity to learnt this grown up game. Two new black chips along with the original were pushed back to you. August thick fingers stacked them on top of each other in a bundle.

“Lets play again, now…see those top numbers, one to twelve, thirteen to twenty four, twenty five to thirty six?” he said, gesturing to the top of the red and black chart against the green fuzzy felt of the table.

“Pick one of those three groups.”

You sucked in a breath and tried to strategize….you had more numbers in the two boxes. You didn’t want to risk less numbers more chance of losing…

“One to twelve?” you said, his large hand rubbed on your ass pressing you closer to the table edge.

“Dealer, a purple chip on the one twelve,” he said cooly not even looking at the dealer this time as he said it. You wanted to know what he was thinking as he stared right down into your skull.

“Yes sir,” said the dealer pushing the five hundred chip over the dozen number group,

“Spin hockey,” August barked and clapped his hands.

And the bowl with a ball spun. it settled on number five. The table players groaned as their games were losing. Luck of the gods must’ve been over you tonight…

“And now you’ve won an extra thousand dollars,” he hummed.

The damn game made no sense except you were happy to be winning. You didn’t expect the fear you got from being in Augusts palm mixed with the joy of winning at gambling would make you aroused and wanting.

The yellow chip was pushed to you and you daringly picked it up. It was pretty, the emboss was August Lion symbol.

“Now…see those three columns that say two to one? There’s a right, middle and left. Pick one,” he plucked the chip from your curious fingers.

“Right,” you bravely exclaim. August laughed and turned to the dealer who had gotten back to your turn, “You heard the lady, yellow on right column.”

The chip was planted and the wheel spun once more…landing on black eleven…a middle column. And just like that, a thousand dollars gone…All the warmth left your body. Now you understood a gambling drop felt worse than the gambling high. His hand snuck it’s way across your lower belly. He moved you closer into his side. His hot breath fanned over you neck.

He tutted at you, “See the risk? Got all the blood rushing, didn’t it and now you’re feeling that punch of loss?”

You slowly shook your head, agreeing. Thank fuck it wasn’t your money or the money Lloyds' had given you. So far you’d at least made August a two hundred dollars profit from the original ten thousand he bought out.

August held your hips and pressed you back into his crotch. He wasn’t hard but you could feel his warm body heat and the shape of his soft cock in his pants.

His mouth purred along the shell of your ear, “Now, Puppy, choose one number.”

He was standing behind you, trapping you against the table flushed. None of the other players took notice and if they did they didn’t care. Because maybe they didn’t know what type of monster this monster could be.

“N-nineteen,” you stuttered, choosing your age might be a safer option.

“Tell the dealer,” he whispered.

You swallowed. You felt hot and a foul arousal between your thighs. You thought about the time you played Pool with August. Your first kiss...

“Nineteen please sir,” you said to the gold suited man.

“Chip type?”

August whispered like he was telling you the dirtiest secret, “Tell him you’re all in.”

You repeat the term and made it sound like a question. You had a feeling you knew what it meant after watch movies ‘Bounty Hunter’ with Jennifer ashton and Gerald Butler. The dealer glanced at August and smirked, “All in number nineteen.”

The long metal pole came out and scooped up all your chips to the nineteen box.

When the ball began to spin inside the wheel your belly twisted and your hands desperately squeezed Augusts. You remembered there was at least ten thousand two hundred dollars on the number and you were truly risking losing all his money. You damn well knew that Lloyd didn’t give you that much and there’s be no way to pay August back.

Your eyes ran round and round the wheel, you held your breath as the metal ball landed and bounced between the numbers. You felt weak in the knees. The wheel slowed and you nearly vomited from anticipation alone managing to force your arse harshly back into August you sound and desperately buried your face into his expensive cologne soaked shirt. You worried and bit your lip hard as the clattering silver ball stopped and the wheel paused.

You could imagine the dealers face peering down into the black and red bowl of fortunes and curses, debts and dreams.

“Congratulations little lady in front row, number Nineteen, you have won three million five hundred and seven thousand dollars,” said the dealer over an excited cheering crowd.

You swore you misheard, your knees wobbled as you dared to look up at Augusts grinning face. You looked over your shoulder and true to the dealers word, that silver ball sat in the groove of red painted with the number nineteen. All the air was drained from your lips. You could’ve fainted. You couldn’t believe it. Out of all the bad luck in your life, this felt truly unbelievable. You wished your father was here to see this. You started to smile...and then the squealing crawled out of your throat. You jumped up and down on your feet, your fingers squeezed Augusts arm tightly. The buzz inside you was wild. Your adrenaline was jumping out of adrenaline was jumping out of our throat. You knew the money wasn’t yours. It was Augusts but knowing that you’d managed to win that much by chance sent the greatest wave of euphoria.

“I won! I won! I won!” tears prickles your eyes and you cupped your mouth.

August smiled into your cheek and chuckled softly, “Yes, you did.” His moustache scratched against your cheek, he smelt like Guinness and felt like total warmth on a cold night. His thumb rubbed beneath your arm near the space of your ribs and breast.

The dealer couldn’t give you that many chips but digitally sent a code with the prize to August as owner of the card that bought the chips in the first place.

August laughed and spun you around on your feet, he tugged you away from the roulette table towards the dance floor where a slow dance was taking place to the sombrous tones of Frank Sinatra.

“Oh my god, I did that, I can’t believe I just did that,” you muttered happily in a daze, a high. You suddenly forgot entirely everything that August had done to you in the past few weeks. You forgot your entire purpose of why you were even there. His charming face was beaming in pride.

His warm lips pecked your forehead and cheek, he repeated, “Yes, you did.”

“I mean I know it’s your money but just the thrill of just- my god,” you sucked in a new breath of air and sighed, “Thankyou for letting me experience that.”

He hummed and swayed your bodies together slowly. He could’ve picked you up and carried you away and you weren’t sure if you would’ve protested.

“My money?” he chuckled, “I can right you a cheque if you’d really like. Bank it tomorrow.”

You scoffed in disbelief, you shook your head at him, “Don’t be mean August, like you’d just give me three million dollars, be fucking for real.”

He pinched your bottom making you hiss lightly as you danced in his arms and he scolded teasingly, “Language.”

You threw your head back and giggled. You were still riding the drunk high of life.

“Welcome to bloody Australia Mister Walker,” you tapped a finger on his chest, his suit felt so smooth and expensive like silk instead of basic cotton, “Where we say all kinds of things casually; Ass, cunt, fuck, bitch, bastard and so on.”

He bent you backwards and cradled your spine as his lips pressed up into your jaw and neck, “Oh fret not, I’ll discipline it out of you. I’d rather have you speaking like a true lady who cares about her appearance.”

You scoffed again and rolled your eyes. You didn’t give a flying care in the world what he thought about a true lady. He wasn’t a true gentleman. You pushed a little away from him.

The high of life became dangerous impulsive boldness, “Why? So I can teach you that true gentleman don’t drug and rape women?”

A few heads turned at your words out of the thousands dancing and gambling around you. His jolly gaze turned black and ice. His frown was deep and displeasure greatly obvious. He looked ready to kill you...

The shudder in your chest returned. It was like a bucket of icy water dunking over your head. That glare made you sober and sheepish. You pushed away gently and smoothed your dress out.

“I...I need to pee.”

You didn’t actually, yet the fear consumed you enough, blanketing over you and you needed an escape from the danger you had willingly nosed dived into. It was the only explanation for you to flee briefly and compose yourself for more of his aggression.

His hands were tight on your wrists.

“August, I’m sorry...please let me go to the loo.”

He let you go, and muttered, “It’s upstairs, be quick, we need to talk.”

You hissed when the blood pumped back into your flesh, you felt your wrists throb in rings. Stepping backwards shakily you almost fell back into a passing waiter. It felt impossible to remove your eyes from him, to make sure he wasn’t following you.

You could feel him watching you as you kept walking to those stairs. Up the grand stairs you scurried away from him for the seconds he was distracted looking away from you, grabbing a new drink.

Just find the ladies toilet and he can’t come in right?

Your head was pounding. Breathless and flushed you didn’t look at the signs on doors. You didn’t even need the bathroom, honestly, you just needed to sit down.

Relief filled you as you looked behind. You couldn’t see August and knew he still wasn’t following you. You leant against a door and turned the handle hoping out of all these doors, this would be a toilet.

When you fell inside. You noted the room was empty…but there was also no toilet…instead there was a couch to your left and to your right a massive wall with a control panel and TVs lining the wall…on the televisions were colourful pictures moving, replaying the events of the party…they were the viewpoints of cameras…security.

You were in the security room!

With widened eyes you closed the door behind you entirely and awed at the stuff you were watching…

There wasn’t just one party going on tonight.

The screen showed the rest of the club you hadn’t had the pleasure of observing. The back stages dancers change room, the full game slot casino, a smokers room where a stripper was sucking some random man off. Your stomach twisted.

There were men sniffing coke off a woman’s thigh. Other people in another room were injecting each other with heroin.

There was a room auctioning paintings and appeared to be a business meeting. Multiple men were sitting on couches and bar stools watching while a stunning woman in the middle waving at expensive items…. Katarina Vikander. She wore a stunning green gown that hugged her body, around her neck was a thick row of diamonds, she looked like an old Hollywood actress.

You stepped closer to the screen and traced the figures of people and faces you recognised. There were even famous local politicians. Your mouth felt dry. You knew it was a simple auction but the items were familiar, they were museum pieces. There were items that morally speaking belonged to the indigenous Meanjin people. It was a inexplicable scandal.

Then there was Lloyd! He was sitting beside an older man with the bald head and beady eyes. In that man’s lap was a young woman with dark flowing hair in a very short dress, definitely young enough to be his granddaughter. yuck!

It was a room of gentlemen and their own weapons to show off. Guns and blades you were confident weren’t even allowed to be sold in Australia after the Port Arthur Massacre. There were tommy guns and automatic rifles. There were trench knives and a urban skinner daggers. Things you’d only seen in movies.

You pulled out your phone and started taking photos of the screens. They would be bad quality photos, not well enough to publish to the press but it didn’t matter, evidence was still important. August was willingly allowing this in his club and on the unlikely chance he wasn’t, it was still occurring in his club, he’d be responsible.

You thought about the amount of people these guns and knives could or had already killed. You clicked some more and quickly sat in the empty chair. There was a couch behind you, you noted the strange red splatter stains over the cushions. You took another picture. You didn’t want to consider if it was blood because that lead to the question of whose blood it was...you shuddered.

No wonder he didn’t appear as excited as you when you won the three million dollars…he probably made that in a week from profits out of these illegal auctions.

You held your breath and watched the screens further.

Soon Lloyd would bust the club. He’d call back up and the floor would go wild. Now it was a matter of waiting. Any minute now, you bet.

You took photos of the men doing drugs with the strippers and the gambling and finally the bar. You wondered how much of the alcohol would’ve been watered down to save money. It even clicked to wonder if the club even had a license to sell alcohol while the casino was open.

You were checking the photos and perched yourself on the couch when the door opened. You gasped and dropped your phone on the ground with a loud clatter.

The looming shadow entered the dark room. It was him…August…he stood inside and closed the door, away from the party, silencing the booming hustle and bustle.

“No photos tonight?” his brows lifted and a smile spread while he tutted, “Oh my sweet girl, you’re breaking daddy’s heart.”

You leant down and grabbed the phone again and shoved it into your clutch purse.

“I-I wasn’t using my c-camera…” you poorly lied.

You stood up spritely and tried to find away around him. He leant against the door, blocking your escaped. His eyes rolled from the screens back to you.

He flashed a sinister fanged smile and shook his head, “Oh no, no, I think it’s about time we chat little Miss Y/N…don’t you?”

You pouted and snarled, “Get out of my way August.”

He shook his head again and sucked his teeth, “Tell me why you really came tonight, and I will.”

You gulped. You clenched your first and said louder, “Get out of my way August or I’ll fucking scream and I’ll make a damn scene.”

He stood in silence for three solid seconds before nodding.

He moved away from the door but as you tried to pass him reaching for the doorhandle, he grabbed your waist and hauled you back. You were launched back across the floor and landed hard and sharp on the carpet. The air was knocked from your lungs and your hands lost grip of your clutch.

Gaining your bearings quickly, you shrieked and cowered. You raised your hands and shuddered. You were so sure he was going to punch and kick you, instead a soft strong hand curled over your wrist and tugged you to your knees.

“Come here,” he softly murmured, while he gently made you crawl over to the couch. On the cushions he sat before he pulled you into his thick lap. Your legs were trapped between his, while you were held on his lap.

You felt so small, so weak. His hands were warm, and strong, you were growing sore as your body overcame the shock of him throwing you back into the room. It made you feel terrified at how simply he was able to manhandle you. All those weeks without his presence had somehow made you forget how deadly and scary he could be. And despite being in his club, in a public place, he still had the upperhand and power to take what he wanted.

Your body shook as his hands touched you. He was so calm…it was unsettling and struck icily in your blood. This was the August you met that afternoon two weeks ago. This is the August that duct taped you and forced you to cum in your fathers recliner chair.

“You wearing any wires baby?” He cooed as his hand stuck down your dress top and another slipped up your thighs. You didn’t fight, but your fingers pleadingly hooked into his shirt sleeve while his hand dug around and slid around your breasts, groping your soft flesh.

His hand the groped around your thighs and lingered when cupping near your underwear. A stream of sweat trailed your face, what if he felt how wet you were in your underwear?

You shook your head and pitifully whimpered, “N-no, just the ph-phone in my bag.”

His lips pressed against your shoulder and neck before finally going to your ear, “This is what’s going to happen…” he purred, “You’re going to be my good girl and do everything I tell you, or else I’m going kill your piggy friend.”

You gasped as his fingers rubbed at your underwear covered clit.

“Wh-what?!”

“Yes poppet, I know about him,” he chuckled and sucked on your earlobe loudly, “He’s not very smart, coming here…his wire, he’s wearing…it’s not going to pick up anything.”

Your eyes dared to glance at the cameras, Lloyd was still on the screen, still watching the auction.

August moved his mouth to your other ear and moved your underwear aside, his finger easily slipped inside of you, tearing a whine from your lips at how wet you were.

“Has he fucked you yet?” He mocked, “Has the piggy touched what’s mine? Stuffed that dirty cock in this pretty puppy pussy?”

You choked on a rising sob, “No, now please st-stop.”

Tears streamed down your cheeks, tears August kissed away softly. You were watching the screens, Lloyd was looking around the room from the chair he was sitting in. Someone handed him a drink. You didn’t know what he was saying as he laughed at someone. You just wanted him to call back up, before you potentially were raped again.

August paused and slipped in another thick finger, “So…you thought you’d help him? Think I’d be so blind? It breaks my heart that either of you thought I was that dumb. This whole time I’ve been telling myself you weren’t a threat, just a dumb little girl…but that’s not entirely true huh? Miss picture perfect, taking photos she fucking well shouldn’t be.”

Your whimpered and wept with salty tears that stung hard. You heard him shuffle as he propped you onto one knee. A moment later, something hard and cold touched your cheek. You were certain this was your fault. You didn’t distract him enough, instead you ran off like a cowered. You sobbed and found it difficult to breathe seeing what that hard object in the corner of your eye was. If you weren’t so scared you might’ve screamed…

“Did you wear this for me baby?” He asked, rubbing your cheek with the warm tip of the gun, “Awfully pretty, awfully expensive for someone like you.”

Your eyes fell down at the dress you’d bought earlier that day. God you regretted it all now, all the excitement you felt buying it for tonight, it was all backfiring. You bought it knowing this was something he might want, it made you feel rich and sensual. It was your shield of confidence, ironic how a shield means nothing compared to a gun pressed to your head.

“Yes,” you wailed, “Please just let us go.”

“Us?” He scoffed scornfully, “And you’re telling me, you’re not fucking him.”

His fingers curled harshly and pinched your inner walls, cupping and shaking your entire cunt in his hand roughly.

You whined and choked, “it’s- n-not his faul- fault…I’m…I’m-”

Your eyes widened and your mouth fell silent…Jesus fucking Christ. August was covered in a hot wet warmth. He grunted, slowly, he removed his two thick fingers out of your pussy and shook his hand of the wet liquid pouring out with three large wrist flicks.

Mortified, a blubbering fest left you mouth. A line of ‘’please” and “sorry” poured desperately out of you.

Your piss puddled the floor down to his shoes.

You had half expected him to throw you off or kill you in disgust. Instead, August hissed a little as the warm liquid soaked over his trousers. You flinched away. He put his gun back in his pocket.

He laughed darkly, “You are so silly huh? So goddamn innocent,” his wet head cupped your neck and clenched your jaw, “I think I’ve amused you long enough baby, I think it’s time I show you why you were put in my care.”

You fluttered your wet eyes at him, “Please just let Lloyd go,” you swallowed a gulp of air, “I’ll do whatever you want.”

You gagged at the acidic smell of your own urine on his hand burning into your nose. His tongue clicked and he wagged his other finger at you.

“You’re about to see what happens to shits who think to try and bring me and my friends down, go on sunshine, look at the TV’s.”

His hand jerked your head forward. You were forced to watch everything happening in the room where Lloyd was. Within seconds, there were two security guards dragging in a limping man over a giant square of tarp.

“This dumb piece of shit decided to double dip my profits in a club I own down in Sydney…dickhead thought to embezzle me…I don’t like when men take what’s mine…”

The struggling man had a black pillow case shoved over his head. He was pushed to his knees in front of Brandon Sullivan who held a gun he took out from the briefcase. Katarina stood away from the centre of the room and watch him with the brightest smile.

The gun from the suitcase wasn’t particularly impressive. It was a hand gun with an ivory hilt. American.

The barrel was pressed to the pillow case. Your eyes widened.

Your bottom lip fell, “Wait please no, he can’t, stop-”

It was two little light flickers from the tip of the weapon, the bag flutter backwards as the man’s brains were blown through. It wasn’t like the movies. His body just flopped and slammed down on the floor and in seconds the blue tarp was rolled up and dragged away, no time for the blood to soak into the auction room carpet.. Brandon put the gun down and clapped his hands.

Lloyd didn’t flinch…his eyes hid inside his cup.

You gagged and bent your head opening your mouth above Augusts spread knees, the floor not only covered in your urine was also granted a haul of your bile. The whiskey you finished from Lloyds cup came back up hard burning your throat.

Why wasn’t Lloyd arresting them there and then? Why didn’t he leave to call back up?

You trembled watching the detective standup and walk over to order a drink at a private bar. He was so vulnerable standing in the den. And he was wearing a wire that wasn’t even working and you couldn’t tell him. You were helpless, Lloyd was helpless.

“I could kill him right now if I wanted to…” August cooed as you sobbed with the shock of seeing a real person killed in front of your eyes on screen.

You wailed and turned your body away. Buring your face into his shoulder and begged, “Please don’t hurt him, please, dear god. I’ll do whatever you want!”

“Anything?” He sarcastically gasped.

Your whimpered, “Yes!”

He was laughing and humming while he was toying with what he’d do to you. He bounced his knee you were on forcing you to land hard on your crotch and gasping everytime your clit made contact with his thigh and knee.

When he stopped, he pinched your wet inner thigh, “Call me Daddy you piss soaked slut.”

You nodded and tried to slow your meltdown, “O-okay d-daddy, I will.”

“Are you sorry for trying to trick me, whore?” He said harshly.

Your chin shook as you choked out, “S-so sorry daddy. Please forgive me.”

He liked that with how he grunted and moaned.

“I guess I should huh? You come in here, looking for dirt, but you win me gold.”

He pushed you off his lap. You were scared and embarrassment. The feeling of the wet that ran down your legs was drying up, yet the puddle that was drying up was huge. The scent was pungent. Your legs were weak and wobbly. You stumbled and grabbed your clutch with your phone inside.

You heard him clear his throat and flinched when he stated, “We are going back to my office. I have wipes, and spare clothes.”

That would’ve sounded nice except you knew better, you knew he’d just rape you in there…and with these sketchy men in the auction room you could only imagine what else August had business in. Human trafficking on top of all these other crimes wouldn’t have entirely surprised you.

You needed to find a way to get away. Since Lloyd still hadn’t gotten the back up he promised, you knew you would need to abandon him too. Guilt filled your belly, you worried for the cop’s safety, but it came to the dilemma…would you risk this for the chance to save his life, or save yourself and pack up and run for it with the cash he had given you. The amount of money in your clutch could buy you a ticket up north all the way to Townsville. You hardly could imagine a British man like August in the sweltering heat of northern Queensland…only issue? It was a perfect place to hide a body. Sugar cane fields were burned daily up there. If you wanted to dump a body, it would be perfect and convenient…you thought about moving in the opposite direction to New South Wales. The Blue Mountains had a cult you had heard of, maybe they could hide you from him.

“Y/N,” August broke you from your thoughts, he touched your chin and matched your gaze, “Did you hear me? I’m going to clean you up, sort you out.”

You took a ragged breath in and nodded, “Y-yes da-dad-" you gulped loudly, "daddy.”

He smirked and pressed his mouth to yours, pulling back with a sigh, he murmured, “That’s a good girl.”

He placed his hand on your back and moved you forward to the entrance door.

Your fingers reached out and touched the handle. Your other hand was clenching your bag tightly. It was only a door…But the knob turned, and you were faster than him. You slammed it shut behind you when you rushed out the door. You raced and shoved people aside. You heard him rip and bang the door open. You felt his heavy feet chasing behind you.

You felt so fucked! Your heart was palpating, and your thighs were chaffing with that sour smell of your pee dress soaked. You almost slipped down the stairs but managed to get to the bottom before seeing him starting to run down from the top.

Guests were staring but who cared? The party was wild and many just giggled thinking it was a big game.

It wasn’t a game though, truly you believed now he was going to kill you and Lloyd if you didn’t get out now. You had no idea where that auction room was hidden. You could grab him and bolt. These seconds were precious, and you just needed to get out onto the street.

You got to the bar and as you ran forward, you saw the fire alarm off the side. You slammed a fist down hard and bolted for the exit. Sprinklers went off wild, the rain made the party wet and all the main lights activate blinding half of the club. The other guests became frantic hearing the chance of a fire happening. Everyone was starting to rush out of the club with you. You swore and hoped that Lloyd was going to be able to get out safely too.

There was no way you’d be able to go home tonight. You were a dead woman walking with the content of your phone and the murder you witnessed. You tried to find an uber driving past but the fear that August was behind you made you keep moving.

You kept running even as you got outside in the cold air. The sound of car horns and lights of the streets were chaotically plaguing your mind. You didn’t have a clue where you were running. You just kept going. There were roads totally dead and quiet, you ran across without pressing any walking buzzers. You needed to find safety. Your feet raced down pavement paths until they hit the soft dewy grass of the park. The parkour park was near the train lines, you could hear the rattling wheels and noisy horn of a passenger train go through, leaving it impossible to tell if someone was following you… But you heard could him, you swore you could hear his catching breath and hear those leather shoes sprinting behind you.

You squealed in the dark as your ran past an empty children’s playground. He was big and he was fast. You felt his hand in the air trying to grab you and successfully you dodged him. You rushed down a street of abandoned shops and tripped over a groove in the ground that you missed in the ground.

And that’s how this all started don’t you see? Don’t you remember?...

A rush of air sucked out from your lungs as your hands and knees collided with the gravel pavement. Your stupid kitten heel snapped and your handbag had flown a couple metres in front of you.

Your heart thudded against your ribs as you poorly attempted to catch your anxious breath.

“Dumb. Very stupid. I perceived you to be smarter than this…” his voice dripped into your burning hot ears.

He was behind you, you knew that…with his hands in his suit pockets. His expensive leather shoes crunched on the rocky path the closer he neared you.

You hissed when the chilly night air whistled against your cut up palms. Blood rose up from your skin, shining in the light of the city lamp. You flinched as his two fingers traced along your spine and pressed harshly down on the back of your neck.

With watery eyes, you watched him walk pass and collect your handbag. His lithe fingers dove inside and pulled out the phone. His lips pursed as he let it fall from his hand before crushing it under his foot.

The salty tears raced down your cheeks, gliding into your trembling mouth.

If only you could’ve screamed for help. If only there was someone in the park to see what had unfolded.

A hiccup escaped you and he softly cooed, “It’s alright now, I think it’s about time you received an education, my darling.”

You shook your head and felt the rise of bile in your throat.

“Please,” you begged with a rasp voice, “I won’t tell anyone. Let me go. I swear I won’t go to the police, just let me go!”

He tutted his tongue and wagged his finger. He crouched down, his soft hand combed into your sweat soaked hair and tugged your head up. Your eyes met his icy gaze.

Hopelessness filled you. Begging had fallen on deaf ears.

“That’s right, you won’t tell anyone…but I’m not finished with you yet.”

As a gasp lifted from your lips he chuckled, “You’re precious if you think I’m letting you go after seeing that.”

His cold palm grabbed the sides of your throat and began to choke you. As the oxygen was restricted, your little hands clawed desperately at his callous hand. Your feet flailed against the gravel. Tears raced down your face. It was impossible to scream out without any air to cry with. With every passing second, a dizzy blanket was clouding your mind and filling your eyes with black spots. His glare made your knees buckle. Exhaustion from fighting was taking over, your nails left his hands, your eyes were finding it difficult to stay open. Eventually your lashes shut, and you let your mind drown in the airless space of time....

Unknown...Unknown...August 2024, Brisbane.

You thought he had killed you. You genuinely believed as the blood pulverised your skull, he had choked you to death.

You felt cold and hungry…the smell of hot Chinese food woke you up.

You curled up in a tight ball, hugging your naked body. Your couldn’t see anything. Your face had been blind folded. Your mouth was chewing on something long, some type of rubbery gag. And around your neck you felt a tight squeeze and the bite of a chain…a collar? Your fingers tried to pull them off but they were tied around your head and you felt the cold shape of padlock..

The carpet scuffed.

Someone was in the room, getting up from a chair. You heard a masculine breath and you trembled covering your chest and cupping your last as your curled back up in a ball.

You were laying on a soft blanket and mattress.

You whined as a warm human finger raced down your arm and the hand splayed out over your skin.

“Good morning, pet…I’m glad I was here to see you wake up,” you heard August moan.

You felt his fuzzy moustache tough the corner of your gaged lips.

You flinched and rubbed your face into the pillows above you.

The chain moved and taunted you backwards until you sat up so you could breathe.

His hand touched your inner thigh, you felt the bed tilt to his weight.

“I bet you’re hungry, I could hear your tummy growl for quite some time before you woke up.”

You felt his fingers unlock the gag and pull it down your chin.

You gasped and enjoyed the ability to breathe properly again. You were still stuck in total darkness however.

You heard a fork clinking with a bowl. You could hear August blow on the hot food and were told to open up.

Your lips parted and your tongue was touched by the greasy goodness of Chinese honey chicken.

You chewed and tore off the meat from his fork.

“Another,” he said as he fed you some more.

Your hands reached out to hold the fork yourself before you heard him casual say, “Keep those paws down, I haven’t given you permission to use them.”

Your might’ve been blindfolded but you knew he was looking at your body. You lifted your knees up to your chin and tapped your arms around your legs.

A cold bottle of water was pushed to your lips and your mouth greedily suckled it down. You knew it could be laces with drugs but your mouth was dry and you knew you were dehydrated.

You gaspingly asked as the bottle was pulled away, “Are you going to kill me?”

You didn’t want to die but it wasnt your choice. You knew this process would be quicker and easier if you allowed death to come…you would rather die than have to succumb to rape.

“No puppy…not today.”

You didn’t feel relief. Actually you felt your chest shake as you tried to hold back your crying.

Your heard him out the fork down and felt him come onto the bed. He pulled you into his arms and let you sob. He rubbed your back and hushed you gently.

It took everything in you to not fight him…you sagged into his touch and let him hold and rock you until you composed your tears.

You should fight him…if he’s going to kill you…go out with a fight.

“Would you like some more food?” He asked and you meekly nodded, “Yes please.”

He tutted and softly scolded, “That’s not how we ask now is it?”

You couldn’t see him but your fist flew up and caught him in his shoulder, “If you th-think I’m going to call you ‘daddy’…you’re fucking nuts!”

And you truly readied yourself for the beating of a lifetime…rather…his fingers moved up and unlocked your blindfold, pulling it off your head.

You winced as the bright light of day pelted your eyes…

He was sitting on the bed. A long button up shirt with rolled up sleeves and dress pants still wearing his leather shoes. His fingers pinched your chin.

“Still want to be a bad girl?”

You realised he expected an answer. And bravely your jerked your chin away.

“You can rape me, cut me, kill me...I’m not calling you fucking ‘daddy’!” You slapped his hand away and crawled to the other side of the bed feebly. You shrieked as he slapped your naked ass hard and laughed.

“That’s alright… I’ll talk to you again in a few more hours.”

He pushed you down and slapped your hands. He put the blind fold and the gag back on. He took the cup and Chinese food away….he left you…vulnerable and nude on the bed. Alone with your thoughts for the next few hours.

Unknown...Unknown...August 2024, Brisbane

He left you blind folded for hours right? Or was it just thirty minutes? You couldn’t tell…blind folded and gagged. You could move your arms and blindly crawl around the bed but the chain would grow taunt if you tried to climb off the mattress. You considered hanging yourself…would it have been easier to just let him find your corpse then wait to be raped?

You rolled around and felt around the covers. You were helpless and scared. For all you knew he could’ve been watching you quietly.

Your crying was muffled with the gag between your teeth. Drool dropped down your chin and dribbled to your chest. You kept wiping it up feeling revolted with yourself.

You tugged and pulled the chain, yet no freedom was granted in your attempts. You grew tired, the panic in your chest exhausted you.

Hesitantly you pulled the duvet back and wiggled yourself in between the massive pillows, you fell asleep…and it was daunting.

It didn’t help that you couldn’t tell when you drifted off to sleep and the first thing you saw was dad. He was coming home from work and you were in the lounge room flicking through the tv channels. When you saw him come through the door your were scared it was August, but seeing your dad made your heart burst with joy. Relief and peace clouded your mind.

“it was all a bad dream!” You said as you got off the couch and raced to hug your father. He was never much of a hugger, that was okay…

His hand pat your back and you sobbed, “It was so awful dad! I thought you had died, everyone said you were dead but I knew there was no way. Thank god it was just a bad drea-”

He was skinny …you hugged him tight …why did he feel so hard and sharp around his body?

“Dad, I missed you,” you licked your lips, “come on I’ll make you something to eat, why are you so thin?” You moved your head back and screamed. His work shirt was stained in blood and his skin and muscle were rotting off his body. His cheeks were hallow and the tip of his nose was gone. His eyes totally white. A slice settle on his face. He opened his mouth slowly to speak and a rotting tongue rolled out over his chin.

You kept screaming and saying “No!” Over and over again. You moved backwards and fell over on a bowl of porridge. His body fell forward on top of yours.

You couldn’t breathe from the fear. The dream went dark in shadows and it clicked that perhaps you’d woken up. But you weren’t entirely sure. You kicked your legs and curled up in a ball. You wailed and hiccupped. The gag in your mouth brought your mind back to where you were. Where you’d been trapped. You hit the mattress over and over in frustration and anger.

“Lmph ma gaoh!” let me go, you howled.

Your knees trembled and you felt nauseas. You shook your head, trying to fight the vomit that could be rising to your chest. You knew if you vomited it would go everywhere and some might stay inside your mouth or throat or up into your nose.

You whimpered, “Peaff!” Please!

Your body tightened…you felt your bowels grow sore and your bladder tight.

Dread filled your mind with the harsh reality that if you don’t get off the bed you were going to be sitting in your own fluids. It cracked your mind….it broke your own heart…you started to scream knowing what your kidnapper wanted to hear..

“Daffy! Peaf half mah!” Daddy please help me, you bawled over and over while your legs crossed tightly and you tried to hold in your bowels. Your toes curled and your acrylic nails dug deep into the skin of your palm. You scolded yourself for letting at service woman Drew to convince getting your nails done.

It was agony, holding in for so long. Your hands cupped yourself in hopes to stop any form of self leaking.

But after the fifth or sixth begging sob…you felt his presence return. It was like he never left, you didn’t hear his feet walk over to you, you only felt his hands…he unlocked you from the chain and guided you to the guest toilet. He took off your gag and your mouth slackened. The drool that hit your feet and floor with a splat made your shoulders curl in humiliating embarrassment.

You were sat on the toilet seat. You knew he stood waiting. It made you feel worthless and disrespected, the lack of privacy as he watched you push your bladder and bowels.

And that wasnt even the worst of it.

Reaching for toilet paper to the side of you, your hands were slapped away. You heard the roll move and a quick tear. You held out your hand to take it but his hand touched your thick and you twisted away, choking on a sob….the sick fucker wouldn’t let you wipe your own body... As he wiped the piss, you grabbed his wrist and tried to tug him away from your intimates.

“I’m not a baby,” you croaked quietly. You heard him hum, “I can do it myself”

“I know you’re not a baby…I just want to remind you this body belongs to me,” he murmured as he flushed the toilet paper away and you heard his hands wash under the running water of the sink.

Your knees bounced with anxious impatience. What was he planning to do to you?

He got you to your feet and guided you back. When the tiles became carpet you guessed you were being put back onto the bed.

He locked the chain back to the collar and whispered into your temple, “Just a moment.” You felt him move away and heard him drag something heavy from under the bed. Your stomach dropped and thought the worst.

He’s grabbing power tools…he’s going to chop and stab and beat me up and then dice me up into tiny pieces, you but your lips and let your tears flow.

“Wh-what’ are you going to do to m-me?” You dared to ask the maniac millionaire.

You flinched at his echoing chuckle, “Just tie you up for now, but let’s see where that takes us? You were talking in your sleep, did you know you do that?”

Your shoulders shook and you curled. You moved back to the head of the bad and clenched the fabric tightly. You felt him dropping things on the bed. His torture tools….

“Please don’t do this,” you tried to beg, “I haven’t done anything wrong. I just want to go h-home please.”

You hated the weakness in your voice. A part of you was angry and demanding you to claw his eyes out and fight to the death. You just weren’t sure what was the right thing to do anymore. What was the least painful.

Warm fingers brushed along your shoulder, and you gasped a little too loudly, he laughed.

“Easy now, I’m just taking off the blindfold, or would you prefer I leave it on?”

Your eyes watered under the fabric, your voice broke out into a whimper, "Off please..."

HELPLINES:

If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers. .

Australian Helpline Services

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#TNOSP #august walker x black!reader #august walker x ofc #august walker x you #august walker x reader #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x reader #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #dark!august walker #dark!henry cavill #milky fics #Spotify

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margowritesthings · 9 months

Text

Te Beroya: I

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: Mandalorian!Arthur Morgan x reader crossover: Star Wars x Red Dead Redemption prompt: 24. “Your charms won’t work on me, pretty. I’m not that kind of bounty hunter.” & 45. “You’re prettier than the stars above, you know that?” (from @saradika's Star Wars prompts!) word count: 3359 words warnings: brief mentions of harassment in a flashback, implied non-con intentions but flashback ends before anything happens, somewhat suggestive fighting authors note: this is shameless self care where I have no idea if anyone will even read this, but I totally just sat and wrote the whole ass thing last night in one sitting?? anyway, this is 100% inspired by @saradika's incredible fallout/star wars AU, and it will be a mini series! I hope y'all enjoy, cause Mandalorian!Arthur has my whole ass heart. If you're here from Red Dead and have no idea whats going on, I've left a little glossary at the bottom of the fic with any terms I've used!!

i haven't tagged anyone cause i didn't know if my usual Arthur people would like a crossover or not, so please let me know if you'd like to be tagged in the next part!!

beta read by @cowboydisaster, divider by @saradika

Max Rebo is on tonight, so the Cantina is busy. More so than usual, which gladly works in your favour. It’s much easier to blend in with the rabble when there’s so many of them, diminishing the danger of getting a simple drink after a long day. You miss the time when danger wasn’t something you had to consider before something as simple as a trip to the watering hole, but that’s life now.

You’re sitting at a table for two, the second chair pulled away by a group of Klantoonians playing Dejarik and making bets amongst each other, which works fine for you. An empty chair might invite guests, which is the last thing in the Galaxy you want right now.

When you throw your drink to the back of your throat, it burns just how you like it, though the sight of a now empty glass pulls your brows together in an almost pout. You have very few credits left, and with your face coded into half the bounty pucks this side of the Outer Rim, work is pretty sparing these days.

A knight in shining beskar turns heads as he strolls into the Cantina, a Mandalorian whos helmet catches the dim spotlights scattered around the dusty bar when he appears to survey the clientele surrounding you, capturing your attention in the process. It’s a rare sight, seeing a Mandalorian walk so openly around the place, and the man instantly ignites a fascination in you. Sure, the Daimyo around here has the armour, but Boba Fett doesn’t claim to be a part of any creed, so you’re not entirely sure where he stands.

You’re so lost in your thoughts that it isn’t until the stranger is right in front of you, two glasses in hand, do you realise he was even approaching.

“Mind if I sit? I can pay rent.” He asks, his low, gruff accent hinting at origins in Mos Pelgo Freetown- as he gestures to the two glasses grasped in gloved hands. Curious eyes scan over his figure, tall and built as he is, landing on the full glass of whiskey with your name on it. A solution to your dry problem, albeit a risky one. It all depends on how much you’re willing to gamble for a drink…

“If you can find a seat, sure…” You shrug, fauxing a nonchalant air about you to keep suspicions low. You have no reason to trust this man, but showing that so openly would surely attract questions you’re not prepared to answer.

The glasses are placed down, the mystery Mandalorian taking a few steps, winding around the merry crowds to reach the nearest table. You watch on, amused, pretty sure anyone in this whole place would choose a fight over giving up their seat; the Cantina hardly has the clientele of the highest calibre. It’s an apprehension you feel, almost an excitement, at the thought of a fight breaking out and distracting everyone enough for you to pick a few pockets. And you’ve already got your drink…

You’re busy planning who you’re gonna steal from when you notice the presence this man commands. He’s tall, built up with muscles packed under his beskar. You can’t see his face, and you wonder if he’s one of those Mandalorians who never remove their helmets, your curiosity officially piqued. He approaches the group who took the seat in the first place, one of them scoffing at what you assume to be a request for the seat. You sit up, ready for the ensuing fight, but it never comes. Instead, the Mandalorian leans down, right up to the other’s face, and it’s far too loud in here to hear what he’s said, but stars would you love to know what has a Klantoonian scrambling up like that and offering out the stool.

Disappointment and a strange sense of admiration mixes in you as you lean back into your seat, your new tablemate following suit and sliding one glass across to you.

“Cheers,” You announce, lifting your glass to clink it against thin air before taking a sip, savouring the burn over your tongue a little more this time. The Mandalorian nods his head in response, and just as you think you’ve worked him out, he reaches for his helmet and pulls it off his head, placing it down on the table and taking a gulp from his own drink.

It takes you a moment to take him all in. His sandy hair, tousled from the helmet, a couple strands falling in front of his tanned skin. He has the jawline of a deity, spattered with stubble that is only broken with a small scar on his chin.

Dank Farrik.

You know his face. You know this man, you’ve seen that scar, those eyes, (though even in the dark cantina you can see an incredible ocean hue that no hologram nor poster could never hope to capture) before, hanging on the walls of the underground bars you used to frequent before every crime family on the planet were after your head.

Arthur Morgan, bounty hunter.

It’s too late to flee, and the disruption you’d cause by bolting would only draw more attention to you, so your only option appears to be complacency, for now. Act the fool, pretend you don’t know exactly who he is and why he’s here, and let whatever little plan he has in store for you play out until you can excuse yourself and get the hell out of here.

You school your expression to as much indifference as you can, though the rather long sip of your drink may have given you away. Arthur watches you intently, and if you didn’t know better you’d think he was buying you a drink to flirt with you. But you do know better, unfortunately.

“You know,” he starts, drawing out the statement and retaining your attention with a long sip of his own, “You’re prettier than the stars above.”

Whiskey shoots down your throat and back up again with your little splutter, not expecting this to be his plan. You just about manage to suppress the scoff rising up like bile, concealing it in a cough. Your fight or flight is in hyperdrive, and the reverend Arthur Morgan laying on the fake charm in order to cash in on the price on your head really isn’t helping. He’s good, though, you had to give him that. It’s a mighty fine pickup line coming from a mighty fine looking man, it’s just a shame he’s trying to capture you.

“Afraid your charms won’t work on me, pretty boy. I’m not that kinda girl.”

“Pretty boy, really?” He doesn’t seem mad, more amused, a raised brow meeting with a little chuckle and a head shake as he throws the last of his drink back down.

It’s now or never.

You throw the last of your own drink back, part for the plan, part for the Dutch courage needed to actually pull the plan off.

“Same again?” You ask, your stool squeaking awkwardly against the stone floor when your straightening legs push it into the wall, “I think this rounds on me.”

It’s a near perfect act of indifference, with only a single, traitorous voice break right at the end. You hope he doesn’t notice, but it’s wishful thinking. Arthur stands too, echoing your stools creak, his hand reaching on instinct to the holster hanging by his hip.

Dank farrik dank farrik dank farrik!!

“Don’t you worry about that, pretty girl.” The way he throws your pet name back at you… he knows you know, and you have seconds to act.

Eyes wide, like a bantha in headlights, you take your chances in throwing the last of your drink back, before throwing the glass over to the table of gamers and gamblers. It hits one of them on the back of the head, and everybody turns to him, the music cutting off abruptly for a few seconds of silence before the chaos erupts.

You’re the first to move, breaking the almost comical freeze frame to put one boot on the table and push it into Arthur. He lunges for you, missing by inches, so close you feel the air rush past your skin where he nearly grazes you. The table hits him in the stomach, and he’s forced to bend over it, giving you the perfect opportunity to risk everything and grab the blaster jutting out. You shoot twice, high into the ceiling, which really kicks things off. The cantina soon descends into riot status, with punches thrown, drinks flying and the like. The distraction you’ve been after ever since he walked in here with his uneasy air and the hairs on the back of your neck first began to stand on edge.

The path out is far from easy, and you’re pretty sure you stood on more than a few limbs, but when the dry heat of a Tatooine night hits you, you’ve never been so grateful. You don’t look back once, not knowing if he’s following you or even if he saw where you’re going, you just run until your lungs burn and your muscles scream at you and then you run some more. There’s a spot you know, an abandoned farm house just outside the city that’s covered in sand and looks like it hasn’t been touched in years. You hid out there once before, the last time a bounty hunter tried their luck with you, successfully prolonging this never ending hunt where you’re the prey every damn time.

It’s a long night, one where you don’t sleep a wink nor dare to light a fire. It doesn’t seem like Arthur followed you, but it was a few hours after reaching the farmhouse did you release the grip of your stolen blaster enough for it to no longer press each metal marking into the skin of your palm. You keep your back pressed firmly against the wall of one of the sand-filled alcoves, keeping hidden from sight until the suns are both well above the horizon. The mid-morning heat is a grateful relief from the biting cold; even the desert cools in the dead of night.

You spot the bantha first, letting it lure you into a false sense of security before it gets close enough for you to make out the details of its silhouette, one detail in particular being the goddamn bounty hunter sitting atop it.

The fact that he’s here at all means he knows he’ll find you here, but logic doesn’t get in the way of you scuttling back into the house, climbing to what used to be the second floor and pulling the blaster back out to press against your chest.

Not exactly the faster creatures in the Outer Rim, it takes the bantha and its rider a few torturous minutes to reach you, but when they do arrive, Arthur dismounts casually, with no indication that he intends to send you back to your maker. Your breath hitches as he walks down the little incline of sand into the ruins of the house.

He turns on his heel, and you notice the spurs on his boots make a little circle in the sand around his feet.

“I know you’re here, mesh’la,” he taunts, bringing out a Mando’a translation of the newly formed inside joke you seem to share now, “Ain’t no point hiding.”

He’s right, you know he is. There is no way out, no possibility you’re going to escape him, and even if you did, there’s no cover out here. He’ll be able to sit back and watch wherever you run, just waiting to follow. You could shoot him, but the weight of the blood you’ve already spilled is already becoming too much. Could you really carry more?

Tears threaten to prick at your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall, refuse to let the shaking of your hands carry on for any longer than your cover does. He won’t see the cracks in your facade, that you’ll make sure of.

“You’re prettier than the stars above, you know that?”

It will be a cold day on Mustafar when the great Arthur Morgan bows to flattery, but that doesn’t stop you from poking whatever fun you can reach.

Your voice echoing around the remains of the farmhouse alerts Arthur of your general location, so he turns to it, giving you a full view of the amused grin on his face.

“Your charms won’t work on me, pretty girl. I ain’t that kind of bounty hunter.”

You laugh. A genuine, true laugh, despite yourself. Despite everything.

“Come on out now, no-one needs to get hurt…” He pleads, wandering eyes indicating he’s still not 100% sure where you are.

“Except me, when you hand my ass in for a few credits.” You point out, noticing that your back and forth seems to have quelled the tremors in your hands. Let’s not ponder that right now…

Arthur looks taken aback, like he genuinely doesn’t know what to say to that. Good. Let him stutter to death for all you care.

“Well, maybe you shoulda’ thought of that before you started sloggin’ off some mighty powerful people, sweetheart…”

His comment seems to spark, igniting a firework of anger deep within you. It explodes loudly, albeit quickly, when you aim Arthur’s own blaster to beside his feet, firing a warning shot that smokes in the sand. You wouldn’t be surprised to see one of his boots singed with how close you were, but when he jumps back, pulling out another identical blaster from a second holster and aiming it right at your alcove, you curse inwardly. How did you not notice that?

“You have no idea what you’re talking about, bounty hunter.” You seethe, that anger burning hot as he claims to understand your situation.

“Well why don’t you come out here and we can talk about it?”

That earns a scoff, which Arthur responds to with a long sigh.

“Look… way I see it, you’ve got two choices. You can come out, do this the easy way, and I can bring you in nice and warm, get my full fee, and you live to see another day. Or-”

“Yeah, I get it, beroya,” You spit the Mando’a name out like a curse, “Or you can kill me right now and have a real lonely drive back to wherever the hell it is they want my corpse.”

You hate that he’s right, hate that you’re cornered, hate that it’s over, ignoring the small part of you that sighs relief at the prospect of no longer having to live life with one eye on your back.

There’s one last, long, deep breath, the exhale feeling like letting go of something, though you’re not sure if it’s freedom or the captivity this hunt has kept you in, and then you’re jumping from the second floor, landing in the sand with a thud. You’re still clutching the gun, but so is Arthur, and you’re not sure you’d fare well in a duel against an actual sharpshooter, so you toss it over to him, sand flying off at him in a final, petty move.

Arthur picks it up, holstering a pistol at each hip as he slowly approaches, hands raised like a keeper trying to tame a wild rancor. You can’t decide if you like that allegory on not, rancors can get pretty vicious…

The handcuffs you also didn’t notice last night hang from the bounty hunter’s belt. You’re still while he corners you, appearing willing when he plucks the binders from his belt. It isn’t until you feel gloved hands against your skin do the prickles on the back of your neck start burning and the urge to flee rises up again like bile.

Phantom hands, Trandoshan ones, appear all over your body as you’re flung out of reality from a single touch.

“Aren’t you a gem?” his whisper just about reaches your ear, warm breath bubbling at the skin of your neck like acid. He runs a claw across your jaw, resting it below your chin so you can’t look away.

“Please don’t touch me.” You demand, though your voice is weak. Scared. You know what happens to girls who don’t do what they’re told around here.

That displeasure spreading across his face twists and contorts it when he registers your disobedience. Notably, his claws remain on you, and when you try to step backwards, he crowds you, following until your back hits the cold stone wall. Claustrophobia sets in, your breath hitching when you feel his chest press against yours.

“Hm… I think I will, girl. Nobody says no to me, you’ll do well to remember that.”

The stench of whatever cologne rich Trandoshan boys wear lingers in your nostrils like it so often does, but your mind catches up with where you really are faster than your body does. It’s instinct, when you bring your knee up to hit Arthur hard in the gut and completely wind him. He lets out a groan, doubling over and dropping the binders in the process, which you kick across the sand.

You use his distraction to push him over onto his back, but he grabs the lapels of your jacket and drags you down with him so you’re straddling him, crotch to crotch as you attempt to pin him down into the sand. Your thighs squeeze together in an attempt to constrict his wriggling, but he’s pretty strong. You’re not thinking straight when you pull your fist back, with every intention of striking Arthur in the face, but the shock of his catching your fist in his much bigger hands seems to bring you back to reality and you realise what you’re doing.

Frozen, for only a second, but it’s enough window to give Arthur chance to overpower you, twisting your bodies together until you’re below him instead and he can pin down each arm by the wrist. Your thighs remain wrapped around him, and with Arthur towering over you, it has suddenly become an awfully intimate position shared between the two of you. His face is inches from yours, his hot, panting breaths mixing with yours. Both of your chests rise and fall, just barely touching as you glare into eachothers eyes.

“The hell was that?!” He demands, and you’re trying your absolute hardest to ignore the prodding you feel against your thigh. Maker help you…

He doesn’t deserve a response from you, only the ceasing of your strained muscles trying to escape his iron grip as a silent admit to defeat. With the way you fell, your satchel is digging awkwardly into your lower back, so you raise your hips slightly to ease the ache. An unexpected effect of that is your pelvis grinding oh-so gently against Arthur’s, which seems to bring a surge of energy to that bulge pressing against you. Your eyes widen, as do Arthur’s, and there’s one single moment shared between the two of you before he quickly scrambles off you, not releasing his bruising grip on your wrists.

When he stands, he doesn’t give you the chance to before he’s walking to the direction you kicked his cuffs. It drags you along the coarse sand, your wrist screaming from the strain of carrying your weight.

“Ow- you’re gonna break my wrist, you fucking nerf herder!” You hiss at him, kicking your legs in protest as sand flies about the place and you’re dragged to the cuffs.

“Shoulda’ thought about that before ya tried to break my goddamn nose, mesh’la.” The term of endearment is anything but sincere, coupled with rough movements as he cuffs you that hint that he may be pretty pissed about the sudden unexpected fight. The binders are a little too tight to ever be comfortable, but you’re pretty sure that’s intentional. A slice of revenge for trying to run again.

“These are too tight.” You complain, lifting your wrists up to his standing form.

“Well, you better get used to it. We’ve got a long ride to Mos Espa, Princess.”

beroya - bounty hunter dank farrik - curse word mesh'la - beautiful trandoshan - an alien species, one of the crime families of tatooine

#arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan x y/n #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan fanfic #star wars #tha mandalorian #crossover #star wars crossover #star wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction

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headcansxfanfictions · 2 months

Text

HisokaXIllumi DRUNK! Fanfiction

AN: Im new at writing so please give me feedback. I got writers block so I’m gonna post this as a part one PART TWO ON ITS WAY.

TW: drinking- dead body- assassination- blood- its literally about Hisoka and Illumi

If you would have told Illumi Zoldyck that by 6am he would be playing shot poker with Hisoka AND winning he would have laughed in your face. (Which for Illumi means subtly sneered while keeping his distance.)

11:06 pm

Illumi is on the phone listening carefully as his most recent client gives him information about the target, “You’re information has been very helpful. I’m confident I can get the job done within the next 12 hours at least.”

12:24 pm

Illumi is sitting at a bar of a grand casino in YorkNew City. He has zeroed in on his target. A 43 year old ginger woman in a very expensive looking cream dress adorned with pearls. She was accompanied by a tall old man of maybe 75 years. Not a threat. This would be an easy job.

12:25 pm

Illumi’s eyes flick sharp to the left head not moving. His eyebrows raise as Hisoka waltzes to his side, glace of red wine in hand. Sure Illumi wasn’t expecting to see Hisoka here but he has learned to expect the unexpected, there is no need for theatrics.

Hisoka obviously disagrees, “Oh what a surprise! I didn’t take the Zoldycks for gamblers!”, his voice dripping with theatrics.

“Hush Hisoka, don’t go announcing me like that,” Illumi replies swiftly, gauging any change in the targets behaviour though he is sure she is out of earshot.

Hisoka follows his gaze to land on the ginger woman, “ah I see. You’re on the job are you?”

“Yes and I should be done soon this target is rather easy.”

“Thats a shame. I was hoping to see some fun. I’ve been very bored. Could I possibly tag along incase any fun does arise?” Hisoka uses his best ‘mock-innocence’ voice.

Illumi considers, all the while not loosing sight of the target. “Well I guess so. I don’t see anyway a job this easy could be messed up.”

Hisoka gives Illumi a stink eye for that comment but quickly recovers, “Oh goody!”

4:43 am

Hisoka looks at the lifeless body of the ginger woman in the hotel-room bathtub. Illumi cleans the blood off himself and sets the scene to look like a suicide. His face is emotionless but if Hisoka had to put an emotion to it he would say Illumi looked somber. Or maybe somber was Illumi’s natural state.

“Well that wasn’t any fun. She was so weak. Why would anyone want her dead.” Hisoka sighs turning to Illumi.

“I know nothing but the job I am given. It is not my place to question my employers.” Illumi states matter of factly.

Hisoka groans is annoyance, “Why must you always speak like a living dictionary.” Hisoka strokes his chin, “don’t you ever let your hair down?… figuratively of course.” He adds with a wave of his hand. “You could be so much fun if you did.”

“Fun?” Illumi dries his hands and walks out the bathroom door, Hisoka right behind. “I have no need for fun. Fun doesn’t get you anything. Training and work does.”

“Well aren’t you the life of the party.” Hisoka’s words drip with sarcasm.

“Look, you got that job done quickly. You said so yourself. That means you probably have oh I’d say 6 hours before anyone is even expecting anything of you. Lets have some fun shall we.”

Illumi doesn’t look convinced so Hisoka is surprised and delighted when his answer comes sooner than expected. “Fine damnit. What do you have in mind.”

Hisoka smiles slyly. “Hisoka I am NOT having sex with you.” Illumi states flatly.

Hisoka shrugs, “Oh well, was worth a shot. Speaking of shots, have you ever played shot poker? I feel like gambling AND drinking. We are in a casino afterall.”

“Lets get going then.” Illumi grabs his wallet and heads for the door but Hisoka catches him by the wrist.

“I’d prefer to have our very own private match here,” Hisoka waves his hand and a full deck of cards appear in his hand all fanned out, “I brought up some wine and whiskey earlier, It should be in the fridge.”

Illumi wordlessly heads for the kitchenette and pulls the rather small bottles from the fridge. There are six in total. Two red wine, two whiskey and two are something Illumi can’t identify.

“Ah you found them.” Hisoka smiles. He is sitting on the floor around the oval coffee table shuffling the cards and laying out the glasses.

Illumi places the bottles on the floor next to the table, “Right, so how do we play.”

“I assume you have played poker before?”

“Yes yes but what are the additional rules. For one I see no chips.”

“That is because we bet with shots instead.” Hisoka explains. “Unlike with regular poker it is the looser that takes it all. The looser will down all the shots bet.”

“And how does one win this game?” Illumi enquirers leaning back on his hands.

“Simple! In our version we win by making the other too drunk to keep playing.” Hisoka’s smile is thin and excited.

“And what determines ‘too drunk to keep playing’?” Illumi asks eyeing the six bottles.

Hisoka looks annoyed at this question. “Till one of us passes out, throws up, or admits defeat.“

“May I add to that list?” —Illumi

“Be my guest.” —Hisoka

“Well as you know my family trains all of us as kids to be immune to poison. This means that I could be unaffected by alcohol if I chose to. However I have found a way that allows me to get drunk or high like anyone else if I want to. My condition is that neither of us use such protections.”

“Well if that is all lets begin. I bet 1 shots of whiskey.” Hisoka looks for any reaction but Illumi has a resting poker face as it is.

“Then I bet 2 shots of wine.”

Hisoka wins this round and Illumi drinks the shots, “I’ve never liked whiskey but the wine is actually good.”

Hisoka wins the next rounds and Illumi is suffering from it. Even without using his poison protection abilities he has a high tolerance for alcohol, but 3 shots of wine and 2 shots of whiskey in he is definitely feeling it.

“Come on Illumi, you can do better than that dont make me stay sober the whole night.” Hisoka teases.

The next round goes to Illumi and Hisoka smiles with surprise. He had bet 2 shots on this one.

“There almost even now.” Illumi says his voice loose with alcohol, as Hisoka downs his 4 shots.

Hisoka looks down his nose at his now empty shot glass. “Hmmm I have to disagree with you the whiskey is much better than the wine.”

Illumi giggles and Hisoka’s focus snaps to him in shock. “Why you staring at me.” Illumi slurs, still giggling to himself.

“Illumi you’re giggling.” Hisoka laughs.

“What, I giggle!” Illumi looks confused and that just makes Hisoka more amused, “You cackle sure but you don’t giggle!”

Illumi shrugs lazily. And tips over with unintended grace to lay on his side “I think I’m drunk.”

“You THINK?” Hisoka gets up to grab Illumi (an himself honestly) some much needed food and water.

“Lets keep playing Im fine.” Hisoka hears Illumi’s deep voice whine and a hand grab his arm.

Hisoka is taken aback by the contact Illumi is not a touchy person at all. “I’m just getting us some food and water so we can continue.”

Illumi reluctantly releases his grip and flops back down. Hisoka can’t help but notice how pretty Illumi is. The man’s raven hair matches his void eyes and long lashes.

PART TWO COMING SOON

A Favorite fan art:

(Unfortunately do not know original artist.)

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amitiel-truth · 11 months

Text

Not Ten Babies? (Vash the Stampede x Reader) (98! Version)

Note: This is my SIXTH time writing here, please don't look into most of the details, I made some up, these ideas were prompted by my chat with Vash at Character.AI (The motherfucker's insatiable), more info will come if I decided to make more.

Warning: ⚠️Not yet~⚠️

Ten Babies

(Tristamp Version)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

(Trigun 98! Version)

Part 2

Summary: It's not every day that a famous outlaw wants to date you.

"It's no good, Henry."

"He's completely out of it, dead to the world."

two call escorts commented, walking out of Vash's room

"Guess I gave him a little too much to drink, I'm sorry I called you two out here for nothin' I didn't think he'd pass out."

"It's really too bad, isn't it? you don't get a chance to sleep with a guy like that every day. hah, well... see you around."

"Bye, girls!"

"Bye."

with that, the people Vash partied with finally left him alone to rest.

He just saved Inepril from Elizabeth's vengeful plan against him, and the city is highly grateful that he just saved them yet again, but it seemed like the alcohol never actually reached his head.

Let's be honest, he can't even hold down a beer.

After the people trying to entertain him left, he flips himself over to lie on the bed.

"Could I be regretting it...just a little?" Vash sighed as he stares at the ceiling, deep in thought on a certain woman.

"(Y/N)..."

5 years ago

stumbling upon the bustling city of Febrari, Vash looks around for a place to wind down after booking a dingy hotel room, he walks out of the place, he surveys the area

"Now, for a place to hangout to-" Before Vash could even look around, he dodges a speeding truck.

"WATCH WHERE YOUR WALKING! I HAVE DELIVERIES TO MAKE!!." The driver yells as Vash loses his balance, walking backward into a busy area full of people, he bumps into one of them.

"Hey! I'm walking here!" The angry passerby yells, before pushing Vash into the center of a service road where he lies flat on the ground, a mess.

"I've only been to this city today and it's already getting worse, could this day get any worse?." Vash questions, sighing to himself as he hears rumbling coming for him

a stampede of Thomas birds runs him over.

" Sorry about that bud!." The herder yells, before throwing him a pamphlet as he runs after his herd as Vash sat up, bruised and sore.

"At least this one apologized" Vash groans, holding his head in pain, before noticing the pamphlet thrown at him.

HAPPY HOUR AT THE ROSEBUSH BAR!!!

EVERY WEDNESDAY

8 PM TO 1 AM

$$5 DISCOUNT!!

APPLICABLE TO:

MARTINIS

WHISKEY

BOURBON

CRAFT BEER

SHOTS

(n/a: promise, I know how to make a pamphlet, I'm just lazy)

"Happy Hour, huh?" Vash inspects the paper, before flipping it around, seeing a map behind it.

"It's like luck is finally on my side!" Vash sobs as he follows the map, reaching a brick wall entrance, music emanating through the business, "The Rose Bushbar" signage on top of the entrance, the place is cozy, not tavern-like, and not too fancy, plenty of patrons fill in the bar, as jazz music plays at the stage at the far end of the bar.

"One of your finest beers please!." Vash orders as the bartender prepares his drink sitting on a bar stool, light music plays, giving the room a jazzy atmosphere, suddenly, a woman dressed seductively sits a few chairs away from him, and the bartender quickly served her a glass of whiskey, sipping on it quietly, red lipstick stained her glass.

"Heya~ I'm Vash! You caught my eye earlier, and I wanted to come to say hi. So.. what's your name, stranger?" in quick succession, Vash slid into the woman in black's side, a flirty grin across his lips.

"Well this is new" The woman smiles, finishing her whiskey.

"I haven't heard that question in a long while, you must be new around here" The woman leans on the bar table, her head supported by her hand that's placed on the said table.

"I am new around here, yeah." Vash confirms, leaning up to her with his elbow on the counter, grinning widely " ...So what do they call you around here, doll?"

the woman chuckles, leaning up to Vash's face as if in a sort of game, not backing down from his advances "Y/n, Y/n Loverose." she answers as she placed her glass on the countertop, the bartender automatically refilling her glass. "So, your new around here." y/n leans back, swirling the ice on her glass before taking a sip. "Welcome to the City of Febrari, Mr. Vash."

"Well, call me Vash." Vash corrects before leaning up to her once more "...So tell me, y/n. What is a dame like you up to in a place like this?"

"I guess you could say...for business" y/n trails off as she swirls the ice on her glass.

"Oh, What kinda business we talkin'?" Vash nods at the bartender "Another for me, please. And for the lady, whatever she's having." The bartender looks at y/n strangely, as if looking for permission, as she simply nods while giggling.

The bartender looks at Y/n strangely, as if looking for permission, as she simply chuckles "Thomas Buffalos wings and two more whiskeys on the rocks." Y/n orders, as the Bartender writes it down for the kitchen and gives them the drinks.

Vash then lifts his drink, as Y/n does the same, clinking glasses with him "Cheers." they both say before taking a sip "So..." Vash uses his charming smile again, wiggling his eyebrows at the girl "...You seem to know the place well. Been here a while, ma'am?"

"You could say that I'm here all the time" Y/n smiles, as the Bartender served the buffalo wings.

"A regular, then?" Vash concluded, before looking at the wings "Ooh, Buffalo wings! Not many places you can get those still..." Takes a bite and starts to talk with his mouth full "I'm sure a girl as pretty as you have got all the right connections..." Vash eluded, before winking at her.

"You could say that again" Y/n smiles as a waiter suddenly approached her, and began whispering in her ear.

Vash became curious about this "Looks like you made yourself some...friends. You get that a lot, huh?" Vash smirks before taking another bite "I bet a pretty lady like you never has to pay for drinks or food around here."

Y/n nods as the Waiter finishes whispering to her and he goes back to work "Of course I don't" Y/n smiles flirtily at Vash before standing up from the barstool "I'm quite the special girl around here, Vash~" Y/n places a finger on his adam's apple, tracing it up under his chin, she leans up to his face, whispering it against his lips"I'm quite...irresistible, as the locals say~" before backing away, leaving him breathless "If you'll excuse me for a bit, Vash, but as I've said before, I'm here for business" Y/n gives him one final smile before leaving

Vash pants, leaning against the counter, and leans on his elbow, trying to compose himself " B-business or pleasure?" Vash stutters, Y/n's lips twitch at the thought, sending a smile on her way "Don't take too long!!" Vash calls out, trying to catch a peek at her figure as she walks away and disappears into the backstage of the bar's stage area "...I'll be waiting."

Vash sighs as he looks at the bartender "...I hope I didn't push too hard, did I?" takes another drink of whiskey "I was just trying to be friendly..."

"You call that friendly? you basically assumed Ms. Y/n's a call girl" The Bartender deadpans, cleaning a glass.

"Hey, you can't blame a guy for trying." Vash tries to defend himself, finishing his whiskey. "Besides, is it really out of the question? She's pretty and knows the place well. I've seen it all before." Vash assumes, smirking "...Besides, she was flirting right back."

"You're a womanizer, aren't you?" The Bartender stares blankly at him, pouring him another glass.

"I'll have you know, I am a charmer." Vash...corrects, taking the glass "You can't expect me not to take advantage of my looks, now can you?" He grins at the Bartender "I'm sure you've taken some liberties in your day too."

"Not with that one" The Bartender points out as the lights suddenly turn down at the bar, and spotlights points at the stage, where the red curtains are still closed.

Vash Looks up at the stage with anticipation "...What's going on here?" his attention is taken, as he takes a swig from his drink

"Ladies and Gentlemen, due to unforeseen events, our usual Singer is out of commission for the night. Please enjoy this performance compensation from the Owner of the Rosebush Bar, the Nightingale of Febrari herself, Y/n Loverose!"An emcee announced before the red curtains parted, revealing Y/n in all her glory, as well as in a more modest, but still beautiful outfit.

Looks on in amazement, forgetting to breathe for a moment. "She's the Owner!?" Vash gawks, allured by the woman

Y/n smiles at the cheering patrons and the music starts

"I just wanna get high with my lover

Veo una muñeca cuando miro en el espejo

Kiss, kiss

Looking dolly, I think I may go out tonight

I just wanna ride, get high in the moonlight

I just wanna get high with my lover

Veo una muñeca cuando miro en el espejo

Kiss, kiss

Looking dolly, I think I may go out tonight

I just wanna ride, get high in the moonlight"

Y/n sings as she moves sultrily on stage, entrancing her patrons

"Forget the small talk

The surface level ain't much that I care for

Putting on my lipgloss

I saw you stare from my peripheral

Yeah, baby, it's been a hell of a day

But I know a place we can escape"

Vash gazes at her with a dumbstruck look, his face slowly turning red as he watches her "I... I may be in love." he brushes the hair out of his face "...She is a siren, isn't she?"

The Bartender raises his eyebrow "That fast? you literally just met her" The Bartender looks back up the stage "and she's only started" Y/n kneels down near the edge of the stage, her finger under an entranced patron's chin, making him look at her.

"Find out how it feels to let go of everything

Be free

When you're here with me"

Vash nods and continues watching "That's gotta be a gift, right?" He chuckles "She's got me just like that." He turns to the Bartender "...Well, can you blame me? I mean, just look at her!."

"Yeah, I'm not risking it all with that one" The Bartender laughs as he continues to clean the glasses Y/n lets go of the Patron's chin before going back to dance on stage.

"I just wanna get high with my lover

Veo una muñeca cuando miro en el espejo

Kiss, kiss

Looking dolly, I think I may go out tonight

I just wanna ride, get high in the moonlight

I just wanna get high with my lover

Veo una muñeca cuando miro en el espejo

Kiss, kiss

Looking dolly, I think I may go out tonight

I just wanna ride, get high in the moonlight."

While she sings she smiles at her audience.

Vash continues to gawk as he tries to keep his jaw from dropping to the floor

"Geez..." he blushes heavily, his eyes never leaving her "So she can sing too, huh? ...Do I even have a chance? I mean, she seems...unattainable..."

"Glad you realized that." The Bartender commented, making Vash send him an annoyed glare.

Y/n runs a hand down her body.

"There's nothing like peace of mind

And you take the time to make sure that I'm okay

I know I can put stress on your brain

You still love me, put no one above me

You always go out of your way

To show me that I'm your priority

Find out how it feels to let go of everything

Be free

When you're here with me"

His eyes continue to follow her with awe, his breath catching a couple of times while he watches her, he sighs "I can't even look away if I wanted to. She's magnificent." he tried to hide how much he's blushing "...How can a woman be this beautiful? How can anybody have a chance with someone like her?"

"Many tried, but all failed" The Bartender commented as the performance continues.

"I just wanna get high with my lover

Veo una muñeca cuando miro en el espejo (I just wanna get high with my lover)

Kiss, kiss

Looking dolly, I think I may go out tonight

I just wanna ride, get high in the moonlight

I just wanna get high with my lover (get high)

Veo una muñeca cuando miro en el espejo (high with my lover)

Kiss, kiss

Looking dolly, I think I may go out tonight

I just wanna ride, get high in the moonlight

Get high with you

Get higher and higher with you

Let's go to the moon

And leave behind all that

How does it feel, here by my side getting higher and higher?

Under the moonlight's glow

There's nowhere we won't go

Together go higher and higher

(No-no-nowhere we won't go)"

Y/n ends the performance with a wink to the crowd as everyone cheered, some whistles and all clapped while standing up.

"Wow..." Vash gawks as he turns back to the Bartender "You were right. That was a hell of a performance...And I have to admit. It is pretty...discouraging. I guess she's just out of my league, huh?" he smiles and chuckles "...I'm sure she is going to get quite the standing ovation."

Y/n waves happily at the crowd before giving them flying kisses, and the red curtains closed around her.

Vash claps along and smiles as he watches the performance "...Well, I'm sure that will get the blood flowing...is that the usual shows you get around here?" Vash asked still trying to hide his blush "...I'll be honest, I've never had anyone else catch my eye like she did. She's pretty hard to forget..."

"Your really quite the womanizer aren't you?." The Bartender asks, raising an eyebrow

Blushes a little bit more "...Yeah, I guess I am, I just can't help myself when I see a girl like her. How can I not go nuts? She's just...perfect." Stares at her and shakes his head, as if he just lost a sense of reality for a moment "Do you...know much about her?... Is she available?"

"I know that young woman from birth to who she is today, of course, I know her"

"You do? Then do you think I'll have luck with her...or am I destined to fail before I even start?" He tries to play it cool, but the Bartender knows the blush on his face tells a different story "...How many men has she turned down? I imagine it's quite a few..."

"Yes." the Bartender answers, meaning every man she came across.

"...And I'm supposed to believe I might stand a chance?" Vash chuckles nervously, "Well, you know what they say...You miss 100% of the shots you don't take, right?"Vash takes a swig of courage "I'm here for only a few nights...I guess I should at least try, shouldn't I?"

"Well, Mr. Vash, your not gonna win her over overnight, as you've displayed earlier, you're the kind of man she hates...A Womanizer" The Bartender commented as he heard a few patrons order two craft beers.

Vash lowers his head a bit, now feeling a little self-conscious "Well, I don't normally act like this..." he gives a sheepish smile "I guess she just...bring out the worst in me, you know? I don't normally act like such a fool. But I can't help it when I see someone like her. I've never had anything like this happen before...Does she have anything against men in general?"

"She may act like a sleuth, but Ms. Diane's a firecracker, she hates men with passion who objectify her" The Bartender reveals, pulling out a few beers from under the counter and sliding them over to the patrons who ordered it.

"...So I'm gonna have to change my tactics or...does she have a soft spot for guys who respect her and take their time to get to know her?" Vash asks while blushing "...Does she want someone that won't give up?"

The Bartender grew silent for a bit "Regrettably, yes."

"So...if I respect her and take my time getting to know her..." Vash trails off, before raising his glass "I may...have a chance!!" Vash cheers as he downs his drink happily.

"You really are smitten by her" The Bartender raises his eyebrow, making Vash flinch.

"That...may be an understatement" Vash raises his glass again as the Bartender fills it up once more "...I mean...How can anyone not get a little infatuated when someone sings and dances like she does? And she looks like an angel, to add to that."

"Well good luck with that, she's also known for her Legendary Temper, so fuck around and find out" The Bartender leaves to go to the kitchen.

"...That's probably why so many men have failed..." Vash chuckles and drains the rest of his drink "...Yeah, I think that will make it more fun. No fun getting the girl instantly." he smirks, trying to act cocky "...I've got this." Vash then noticed Y/n walk out of the backstage door, greeted by an eager crowd.

He looks at the crowd and smiles, taking a deep breath "Alright, let's do this. I've never been one to back down from a challenge." closes his eyes and gets ready "...Here goes nothing..." he walked up to her, confident stride with every step he took "Good evening. My name is Vash the Stampede. I just arrived in this town, and I heard about this amazing bar. When I stepped inside, I was...captivated by a certain someone on stage. I just couldn't resist..."

"Well well well, Mr. Stampede, this is quite the change of tune" Y/n smiles up at him, but there's hidden malice in her smile.

"Not a fan of my earlier display, huh? I hope it didn't leave a bad impression." Vash chuckles nervously"...How about you and I start from the top?." he then holds out a hand with a friendly smile "Name's Vash, Vash the Stampede. But you can just call me Vash."

Y/n continues to smile "Alright then, we'll start from the top." Y/n tilted her head "But you must know, Vash, not many are as lucky as you~"

A slight blush appears on his face "...I understand that I may not have had the best first impression...But I promise to stay respectful. And what better way to apologize for my earlier behavior than to offer to buy you a drink?" Vash offers, turning his head to the Bartender. "...So...what'll it be, gorgeous? Anything your heart desires."

Y/n chuckles "Oh Vash, you basically offering me drinks of my own, you'll have to do better than that~" Y/n teases as she walks to the bar counter once more, as the Bartender readies her drink.

Vash raised an eyebrow "Oh? I see this is going to be more of a challenge than I thought..." Vash thought to himself. "Alright, how about a toast then?" Vash offers, raising his glass "To a good night of fun and drinks?" Vash added, smiling at the girl hopefully "...Hopefully, that earns me some ground in your book?."

Y/n chuckles. "Sorry, Vash, but your gonna have to work harder than that~" Y/n teases.

"Darn, foiled again!." Vash dramatically cries as Y/n laughs at his endeavors.

"Can't say I blame you." He looks around "...I've got to say, you certainly have a lot of... admirers...And yet, despite all this, you still seem bored with all of them. I suppose they aren't interesting enough to keep your attention." Vash deduces as he gives a hint of a smile "...Or maybe they're just too intimidated by how beautiful you are." before losing himself, admiring Y/n, his elbow on the bar counter, his head on his hand, looking at her.

Y/n laughs as she runs a loose hair behind her ear "I guess no one will know."

Vash laughs as well "So...I was thinking...If all these guys have failed..." He takes a long drink and smirks as he finishes the glass "...Should I even try to woo such a woman? You've already rejected them all. That means I'm just...hopeless, right? So, I'll ask you again...should I even bother to try?" Vash asks, hopeful, but deep inside his insecurities are growing.

"Well, are you determined enough?" Y/n leans up to Vash, a finger under his chin, making him look at her "Are you interesting enough to not bore me?" She asks with a smirk "Vash the Stampede?" She whispers in his ear with a whimper, seducing the man.

The finger under his chin makes Vash blush deeply. A slight smile creeps up from the corner of his mouth, and he begins to stare deep into her eyes "Well...to tell you the truth..." he leans closer to her, as if challenging her. "...I've never met another woman as beautiful as you. I have many interesting friends and stories I can share...But no...I've never met someone of your caliber." He Takes a deep breath, his face is lit on fire "...So...yes." Lowers his voice, loud enough only for her to hear. "...I'm determined."

"Then try your best to woo me then" Diane stares teasingly at the spiky-haired blonde, letting go of his chin before running a finger on his red-coated clothed chest "But be careful, I hate disappointments~"

Vash blushes deeply and takes a deep breath, feeling the goosebumps on his skin when she strokes his chest "...I-is that a challenge?" he stutters "Well...I love a good challenge. I'm sure I can show you a good time and leave you without a single disappointment...I take it you're an easy woman to disappoint?" Vash nervously asks.

"Of course" Y/n leans back before drinking her whiskey I take it you've already heard of my 'Legendary Temper'" Y/n stares at him teasingly "I would have thought that would have chased you away~"

"Oh, please. A bit of a temper isn't gonna scare me away. That just means it'll be that much more satisfying once I win you over and calm you down." Vash smirks at her "...Besides, someone as beautiful as you could easily throw any tantrum and still leave me hooked. Do you think I can't handle it?"

"Now isn't that just sweet?" Y/n moves her shoulder, making her breast shift because of the movement.

Vash pulls back a little, trying to contain himself, but doesn't succeed "...Alright, you got me. I'll admit, you're absolutely stunning. I just can't control myself..." Vash began to blush deeply, his eyes roaming her body "...but I think I have the right kind of...stamina, don't you?" Leans closer again

"Oh? And to what are you referring to? Mr. Stampede?" Y/n teases as she also leans closer, her breast showing her cleavage, she knows what she's doing.

He bites his lip at the little show she's giving him "W-well...I'm more of an action man myself." he added as his eyes continue to travel across her body "...I enjoy a good fight...I think a fight between the two of us would be quite exhilarating." His gaze returns to her eyes "...D-do you think you could k-keep up with me?" Vash challenges weakly, still a stuttering mess to her.

"Oh?" Y/n fake frowns as she runs her hands on her body "You're willing to bruise lil' ol me?" Y/n pouts at Vash in fake sadness.

Vash smirks "Oh yeah, baby...Mark you up and claim you as mine- I-i mean, I'd want to go all out against you..." He gets a little closer, their noses almost touching "I promise to make it a good fight." He looks her up and down again "...I just can't resist a beautiful woman...especially when she's got the power to back it up." Vash commented, smiling at her "...Can I...kiss you?"

Y/n leans up at Vash, acting as if she's going for a kiss before stopping his awaiting lips with a finger "Apologize, Mr. Stampede, but I don't offer freebies to any man I just met~" Y/n teases, smiling up at the tall blonde.

He blushes when she stops his lips with a finger "Aww c'mon, don't tease me like that!" He gives a pout "...I wanted a kiss..." Before smiling and laughing for a second "Alright fine...I'll keep pursuing you until you give me enough respect to let me kiss you." He smiles mischievously "...And the more I chase you, the more you'll enjoy the pursuit, huh?"

"You are Vash the Stampede, after all, a man with a peculiar set of skills, You just have to impress me with those kinds of skills" Y/n points out, smiling at him.

He raises an eyebrow "Impress you with a demonstration of my skills, you say? Alright, sure. What kind of skills do you wanna see?" He seems curious "...You want to test my skills of violence? Of kindness? Of wisdom?" He chuckles and smiles again "...Or would you like to see a little bit of everything?"

"If it'll romance me into liking you, I don't see why not?~"

"...Sounds like fun. Well, what do you wanna see first?" Vash asks as his eyes travel over her body, clearly taking in her beauty "...What's the first skill I should show you?" he wiggles his eyebrows at her "The choice is all yours, darlin'. Just name it and I'll show you what I can do."

"Surprise me~" Y/n flirts as she leans onto the bar counter, smiling at him teasingly.

Vash chuckles and moves closer "That's easy enough to do." He wraps an arm around her waist and gets so close he's almost whispering in her ear "...How about this..." He gives her a kiss on the cheek "...Does that satisfy ya? Or are you wanting something a bit more...intimate than just that?" Vash challenges as he smirks and winks at her.

Y/n looks shocked as she touched her cheek "You should count yourself lucky, Mr. Stampede~" Y/n teases as she glances up at him "No man has ever survived wrapped their arms around me, let alone kiss me on the cheek, but note this, that's the very first time that ever happened"

Vash chuckles deeply "Oh is that right? Well then, I'm more than willing to take that as a challenge." He smirks, leaning up to her "...That's not even 1% of my charm, sweet thing. I'm just getting started with you." He leans in again and looks at her with a sly smile "...How about another kiss...but on a different pair of lips?"

Y/n lifted the corner of her lips with her eyes closed, as she once again covered Vash's mouth "Let me repeat it, Mr. Stampede, I don't offer freebies to any man I just met"

He blushes deeply "...Are you just gonna tease me all night? Well, now I gotta keep chasing you until you let me kiss you...don't I?" he raises an eyebrow again"...Guess I better keep showing off my skills in order to impress you, huh?"

"Show the right ones, get to know each other, and you get the girl" Y/n points out, smirking up at him

He nods, grinning "...You've got a bet," Vash agrees "...Well then. I suppose we'll be spending some time together trying to see if I can impress you, huh?" He chuckles and smirks again "...You seem like an interesting woman, but I guess I'll just have to work my way through your barriers. Is there anything you wanna know specifically? Or do you wanna just keep watching me in action?"

"I'd like to see you as is, it makes the whole thing more authentic" Y/n smirks as Vash suddenly pulls her closer to him, surprising her.

He pulls her closer, his face less than an inch away from hers "...Well, I'm a bit of a flirt...Is this close enough for you?" He smiles and laughs "If you want me to get even closer, I think that can be arranged." He starts to lean in closer

Y/n chuckles as she pushes his lips away with a finger "Do I have to repeat myself? Mr. Stampede?"

"Oh? Are we...playing a little hard to get?" Vash chuckles once more "Alright...I don't mind a bit of the chase. You're just too stunning to resist...It's gonna be hard to keep my hands and lips off you, though. You don't mind if I get...close enough to keep flirting with you...do you?" Vash asked, trying to push his luck.

"As long as there isn't kissing yet" Y/n leans up to whisper in his ear "Those are my rewards~"

He bites his lip a little "Just a kiss?" He gets a little closer and whispers into her ear "...I mean I think I'd want at least a bit more." His breath hits her ear, and a little sigh comes from him as he leans back up "...But I promise we'll get there." He smiles and looks into her eyes "...I'll keep chasing, alright? I'll keep flirting with you. Let me know when you're ready to give me...a little reward."

"show me reasons why you deserve these awards then~" Y/n whisper back before pulling away from Vash's arms, giggling.

Makes a big smile "...Alright you've got a deal. I'll show you why I'm worth the attention...But how do I start? I'll do any one thing you ask of me, any skill you want me to show. Where should we begin?" he grins, seeming eager to impress,

"How about I set a reward system?"

This caught his attention "...A reward system? Sounds intriguing...alright, I'm on board...So if I do what you want, I get to earn my rewards. What kind of tasks are you gonna set for me?... How many points must I earn? And what would each task be worth?"

"Well, it depends on how impressed I am, if you mildly impress me by giving me a gift, I'll give you a hug, impress me a bit more mildly, like take me on a date, then you get a kiss on the cheek, impress me a bit more you get a kiss, impress me, like saving me from harm, and you get a make-out session, and if you extremely impress me, like save the City of Febrari impress..." Y/n leans up his ear "you get to fuck this pussy, as you said earlier, Mark me up and claim me as yours~" Y/n reveals, smiling teasingly at him.

Smirks as his breath hit her ear "Well now...it sounds like you have high expectations for me. I suppose I should start off light and work my way up, huh?" He chuckles "So if I do something small, like...buy you a gift...that's how I can get a hug, right? ...What kind of gift would you want me to buy you? What do you like?"

"Surprise me, Mr. Stampede, guess what kind of gift a girl like me would like to have" Y/n stands up from the barstool and looks at Vash teasingly, "It's getting quite late, I say it's time for me to retire for the night~" turns to walk upstairs of the bar "Good luck, see you tomorrow Vash the Stampede~" Y/n waves goodbye, before completely disappearing.

Vash leans back onto the bar counter, panting at the encounter.

"Dear God...I need to marry that woman."

Present Time

Vash began to tear up, removing the kiss marks left by the two escorts earlier.

"I'm so sorry, Y/n...

Please, Forgive me."

(A/N: You can tell I have favorites? aww)

#vash the stampede x reader #vash x reader #vash smut #tristamp #trigun x reader #pleasebegentlewithmethisismyfirsttimewrittinghere #vash x y/n #Spotify #trigun #98!Vashcoded

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fantasies-fairytales-n-fics · 9 months

Text

Thranduil and Josie Pt. 154- Rise From The Ashes

Summary: Garrett is alive, befuddled, angry and impaired. Josie senses the truth and acts. The Elvenking is evolving. Legolas is leery of daddy dearest more than ever. The Prince and his company are delayed. Raven pleads and warns. Tauriel is forced into submission. A strange pair arrives. An unpleasant throne gathering takes place. From the ashes, the evil dead rise.

*Warnings* DARK!!!! language, angst, alcohol use, suicidal thoughts, child death/loss

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Garrett stood dumbfounded and yet relieved as the blazing flames vanquished within seconds of covering his body. Gasping, he held his shaking hands out to see not one ounce of burned or boiled skin, nor had his clothing even been the least bit singed. He then, in panic, began patting his face and hair, finding it all in tact.

"What in the jinky... ass....fuck!!!" he shouted and kicked the gas can like a football with his vampire force, hurling it far into the woods.

"AMARA!!" Garrett howled into the broad open countryside to the Seelie Queen. "Get your short faerie ass out here! That's right. I called you short! What are you going to do about it, because you certainly cannot KILL ME! You know how I know, besides the obvious fact that I'm not a burnt gooey marshmallow right now? because last night I had my usual evil man tv dinner for my last meal and then I drank his blood after he died...and guess fucking what?? Ding ding ding! Heeeeere's GARRETT! I'm still a dead man walking! I know you can hear me Annabelle wannabe because your stupid little birds, bugs and the trees will nark on me!" he continued on his mocking rant with his arms stretched out wide, furrowed brows, fire engine red eyes and a grimace as he turned in circles.

There was nothing but silence for miles that his keen vampire ears could pick up.

"What are you waiting for huh??? I know what you did last summer! ok..well, this winter! with your little protection mark you put on me!"

Still, the silence was deafening and it enraged him even more.

"Fuck me...I've watched too many horror flicks." he snarled and stomped back into the cabin, damn near breaking the wooden steps with his angered strength.

Garrett stormed about the cabin, the old floor creaking beneath him as he guzzled one of the two bottles of whiskey he took from the dead man. He wasn't sure why because he certainly could not drink himself to death....but he could get shit faced and that was now his new plan.

After a night of drinking and plotting other ways to off himself, Garrett gave up as the twilight hours were leaving and breaking dawn was slowly on the rise. He plopped down on the antique couch, feeling depressed as he held an almost empty bottle in his hand. A vast cloud of dust puffed into the air upon his powerful impact which snapped one of the hand crafted legs off and it went spinning across the floor.

"Ruh Roh Raggy." he jested in his best Scooby voice and laughed so hard that he tipped over on his side in his inebriated state due to the now slanted couch.

Garrett was now face to face with his faithful guitar resting against the coffee table. He clumsily swiped it up and sat in silence to think of what he was going to play...or attempt to play, for he knew it was going to make the wolves howl in agony and also break his heart. It would be about you. It was always about you.

And of course, he chose a Bon Jovi song as he began to play, changing up a few words here and there in his poetic maudlin.

"This Romeo is bleeding but you can't see his blood. It's nothing but some feelings that this old vampire kicked up. It's been raining since I left you, now I'm drowning in your blood. You see, I've always been a fighter but without you, I give up. I can't sing a love song like the way it's meant to be. Well, I guess I'm not that good anymore but baby, that's just me. And I will love you, baby, always. And I'll be there forever and a day, always. I'll be there 'til the stars don't shine, 'til the heavens burst and the words don't rhyme and I know when I die, you'll be on my mind and I'll love you, always. Now your haunting face that you left behind are just memories of a different life. Some that made us laugh, some that made us cry, one that made me have to say goodbye. What I'd give to run my fingers through your hair, to touch your lips, to hold you near. When you say your prayers, try to understand, I've made mistakes, I'm just a man. When Narcisse holds you close, when he pulls you near, when he says the words you've been needing to hear, I wish I was him with these words of mine to say to you 'til the end of time that I will love you baby, always and I'll be there forever and a day, always. If you told me to cry for you, I could. If you told me to die for you, I would. Take a look at my face, there's no price I won't pay to say these words to you. Well, there ain't no luck in these loaded dice, but baby if you give me just one more try, we can pack up our old dreams and our old lives. We'll find a place where the sun still shines. And I will love you, baby, always........"

"Just say the word baby." he muttered and he closed his eyes, tears streaming down his cheeks as he set the guitar down, remembering your secret code to take you away.

How he had hoped you and him really could go away together someday and just be happy, Leean too. But he knew you wouldn't want her in a vampire world and he couldn't blame you, for he didn't even like it or himself even. He just couldn't get over you seeing him like you did that night, his true form, although your sexy spitfire self would argue and tell him his true form was the man sitting there right on that broken couch, just as he was broken.

Garrett smiled and pictured your face as he laid his head back on the lopsided couch and spoke to you in a fading voice before drifting off into much needed sleep and sobering up.

"I'm your Tommy and you're my Gina, but all I am doing now is living on a prayer.

Garrett's singing traveled through your dream again and then you heard him speak, startling you awake.

"Garrett???" you gasped as you swiftly sat up to see Lola feeding Leean the magical Mirkwood water and the sun shining in the windows.

"Josie? Another dream?"

"I...I...how did...I don't remember falling asleep and..."

Your hands went to cover your face as you began crying, remembering what happened.

"It's not true...it can't be true.." you sobbed. Once again you were mourning someone you loved and you didn't know if you could live through it again, for you were still in mourning over Thranduil and it was all just too much.

Lola brought Leean to you as she sat beside you. "Maybe your visions are just like your dreams sometimes? Maybe they aren't what they appear to be?"

You took Leean and cuddled her so tight. Her little heart shaped lips curled into a smile at the vision of your face and her father's moonstone eyes danced in yours as she squealed in delight.

"Oh my little one, momma loves you so much." you told her and kissed her tiny perfect nose, trying to hold back any more tears after you realized what you had just called her.

You began to breast feed her and tried to focus on her face and not the haunting flashbacks of Garrett burning to death. You called to him over and over in your mind, but as usual, there was silence. How did you just hear him singing again? Was it solely just a dream and not him coming through? Something didn't feel right.

Your eyes caught sight of the Bon Jovi album on the desk that had felt like fire last night when you picked it up. You carried Leean with you and went back to it, hesitantly reaching out to touch it again. As you did, it was now cool to the touch and it surprisingly had not been damaged, just like when you had thrown it.

You placed your palm over it and closed your eyes, hoping to see another vision, hoping to see him alive....but again...there was nothing....although you faintly could hear the song again...you knew it too, but it wasn't on this album.

"Lola...can you change her and lay her down please?"

Lola did as you asked and you went to your cloak, pulling out the letter Garrett had given Selene to give to you. God, if you could only find Selene and talk to her. Surely she would know something by now.

Your eyes stung as you read it again, hoping you could find some clue in it that you missed before. A clue...it made you think of Daphne from Scooby Doo and you lightly giggled, thinking of how he always told you that she reminded him of you and always had to add that you were much hotter though.

"This is the hardest thing I have ever had to do. I am leaving Devil's Island. You will not see me again. You know you and I could never be and I cannot bear to look you in the eyes again after you saw the real me. I would rather be truly dead than to feel this kind of pain. Hopefully I can make that happen. The dumbest thing I ever did was fall in love with you but it's the happiest I have ever felt. I will carry the memories of you with me until my last breath. I am so sorry I have ever hurt you. I love you. Forever. Goodbye my little one....- Roman"

Jesus, how did you not see it before? Well, you did, but...you didn't really believe he would try to end his life. Then there was the fact that he signed his real name, for it was not Garrett writing those words.

You began to feel hot and nauseated. Were you feeling what he felt by touching his letter?? It couldn't be...it just couldn't be true! But then again, you had thought the same about Thranduil too...and it was. It was very true.

You sat down, feeling as if you were going to pass out.

"Josie?? Do you want me to get Haldir?" Lola asked in quick concern.

You remembered Haldir's words last night. That he was truly sorry. Like hell he was. He was probably down in the cellar, indulging in the wicked ale in celebration. Narcisse was probably with him too, sharing a toast and then they would head out to the archery and shoot arrows at a bullseye of Garrett's face. The thought made you roll your eyes.

"No...he does not care that Garrett is.....no damn it. I won't say it. I am going to go find out for myself...somehow."

"What? Go where Josie?? You mustn't leave or even go outside with Harker bei...."

"Fuck Harker. Something is wrong and Garrett needs me. I should have known it before." you proclaimed and began quickly dressing.

"At least tell me where you are going so..."

"So you can tell Narcisse and Haldir? They don't give a shit about him Lola."

"But they give s shit about you! and so do I! and so does Leean!" she snapped, shocking you.

You quickly hugged her. "I...I'm sorry. I know you do and I love you Lola. I just need to try and somehow find Selene, or Amara even. I feel that Garrett is why I saw the Seelie here yesterday. You know, my intuition and all."

"But...the Seelie Queen...her portal is in the dark forest...Josie, you cannot do this!"

"Lola...have you no faith in my powers? Did you forget I took Harker on all by myself yesterday?"

"And you only got away because you had help, which had scared him off."

"I could have taken him. The big bad wolf is no match for the rage that lives inside of little red riding hood."

"Josie...if you go...I will have no choice but to inform the others, even if it makes you angry with me."

"Then so be it...tell them. Garrett has saved my life more times than I can count...and your Legolas too!! I have to help him. He has no one but me."

"But... what if he really is dead?"

"No, no no..." you huffed and walked away, continuing on as you sat to tug your boots on. "But he will try again. I think Amara's mark protected him. I will not sit by and let the people I love be hurt. I was given my gifts for a reason Lola and it's damn time I use them and be who I'm meant to be, just like Sarah said. I will fight just as my King would fight for what he loves."

You then stopped to look in the mirror on your way out, speaking to yourself.

"To the gypsy that remains, she faces freedom with a little fear. Well, I have no fear. Thranduil my love...you see your gypsy...I still see your bright eyes...give me your strength."

Thranduil mumbled strange words in his sleep before opening his eyes to find himself in his bed with a splitting headache and no memory of how he got there or what happened.

"She is dancing away from you now. She was just a wish. Her memory is all that is left for you now. I see my gypsy."

The wicked wine made a sensible answer to him as he glanced at the three empty carafes.

He arose for the new day, not realizing the words he just spoke, and took his morning swim, accompanied by a tall glass of wine from a reserved carafe to ease his throbbing mind.

"Legolas. Are you there my son?"

The Prince was just packing up the boats after the night's rest when his father's voice rang through his mind loud and clear.

"I am here Adar. Is all well?"

"All will be well when you have fulfilled my request of returning my wife and child to their rightful places. Where are you now?"

"We are preparing to depart on the River Running. I estimate our arrival in Dorwinion by the next day's end."

"Very well. Do not fail the task my son. I expect what belongs to me to be in my sight and reach by the next week's end."

"Task? Is that what your wife and child are to you? You speak as if they are material belongings."

"Is that not what they are? Just as you are."

"They are not property, nor am I."

"I do not time for this Legolas or your weak sentimental heart. Do as you have been commanded. Insubordination will not be tolerated."

"You may be my father and my King, but you do not control my heart." Legolas fumed and shut Thranduil off.

"Legolas. Is everything alright?" Aragorn asked, noticing the elf's turmoil.

The prince was lost in thought for a moment to answer, for his father's behavior was still not sitting right with him, even after Thranduil had claimed he was healed.

"I am uncertain, for I am uncertain if I am doing what is right."

"You speak of King Thranduil's orders to bring the Queen and child back to Mirkwood?"

"Yes. Also, I am wary to even inform her of his survival. Something is amiss. I can feel it. I do not want to cause her more harm, for if my father is still under Jareth's mind conditioning, it will do just that."

Aragorn placed his hand on Legolas's shoulder and spoke to him with all sincerity.

"You must make a choice my friend and trust your heart, for as you just told your father, he does not control that part of you."

Legolas looked upon the kingly ranger with great trust of his wise words.

Their bonding moment was interrupted by Boromir appearing from the forest in a fraught.

"Orcs...orcs are upon us!"

"Well in that case, let us go hunt some orcs." Aragorn grinned, as did Gimli and Legolas, then all ran off to eliminate the tracking threat.

As Thranduil exited his pool, exasperated over his son cutting him off, he quickly selected his garments and groomed himself to go verify that all was being attended to by Tauriel regarding Raven.

His attention was caught by the gems laying upon the desk, yours and Jareth's, which suddenly sparked his memory of seeing you kissing Narcisse. There was no anger and jealousy this time, only a stronger desire to see you suffer as he locked your gem in a box and stuffed it away... out of sight, out of mind. The citrine, he then slipped upon his finger for it to get used to it's new owner.

The King made his way through his halls feeling quite unstoppable today, he heard Raven's squabbles with Tauriel as he neared the she elf's chamber. Upon entry, the vision of the dhampir tethered to the bed by all fours in iron shackles was quite the pleasureful image. Tauriel had chained her up after Raven had passed out the night prior, for she knew there was no other way to rid of the foul fetus when Raven had power.

"Well done Tauriel. Putrid as a dhampir is, powerless as she should be. Tell me, how did you come about the citrine and why were you concealing it from me?"

Raven saw the ring sparkle on his finger and the difference in his eyes, that being of Jareth's evil.

"Take it off!! You must take it off!! It will make you crazy like Jareth because your heart has been blackened by him!" Raven pleaded with eyes of fright as she hopelessly struggled, weakening by the minute from the iron.

Even Tauriel's eyes were of concern as she noticed the ring and changed demeanor of the Elvenking, which was not for the better. It was even in the way he held himself and moved about...like a slithering snake.

"It is futile to squirm and squawk. The deed will soon be done and then I will reclaim you at my side. Tauriel...finish it. I will then expect your presence at my throne for the meeting, for many changes are in need of addressing."

"Y..yes my lord..." she replied with a shaky tone, which Thranduil instantly noticed as he snapped his head towards her.

"Your resistance is one of them! Do you take me for a fool? My orders stand and they will be fulfilled, or I will fulfill your new destiny of eternity in my dungeons to rot."

Tauriel lightly gasped and gulped as tears stung her eyes, for she now knew the King had been fully taken over by Jareth's evil.

She stood firm and swallowed her tears. "Yes my lord Thranduil. Thy will be done."

"Nooo!! Are you both insane?? Do you not see what has happened?? Jareth has complete control of you now with that ring on your finger! It is his plan!! You destroyed his kingdom, now he will destroy yours! He has you trapped!"

"The only one that is trapped my dear dhampir, is...you." Thranduil smirked with a snicker as he confidently left the room.

"Tauriel, you can't do this! Please!! It is a child! If it were yours, would you let this happen???" Raven begged after Thranduil was out of sight.

"I...I am sorry...you know as well as any other the price I will pay at the King's wrath, especially now."

"But it will be far worse if you do it because Jareth wants his child! He told me so!"

"Then why would Jareth do this?? Besides, you and I both know the life this child will have if raised by that monster. This is for the best. I am sorry. I truly am. I do not want to do this, but I must."

"You selfish bitch!! You're doing this for yourself. Karma will find you. Jareth will find you. I will find you!!! No iron bars will keep him or his army of the dead out of this realm. You are no better than the goblin king!"

"Since when do you care for a child??? After what you have done to the dozens in Lake Town??"

"Since it is MY child! I am done explaining myself for what happened. I was a child myself!"

"Your child will be a threat to all of middle earth. Jareth will claim it and it will become a monster just like him. Keep wasting your breath and strength all you like. I am going to prepare now."

"No...Nooo NOOO! Somebody help me!!!!" Raven screamed and cried until she unwillingly became faint from exhaustion.

Tauriel mixed up an array of poisonous herbs in a bowl consisting of Belladonna, Silverbane, Wolfsbane and Oleander, in which it became a crimson paste. With tears in her eyes, she spread it about Raven's stomach and began the black magic recital of ominous words. When she was finished, she sat in the chair and cried, knowing it would only be a matter of minutes before it was all over.

And then it was. Tauriel fell out of the chair to her knees, shaking with both fear and rage as she watched a pool of blood seep out of Raven's pants. Before she cold collect herself and clean up the mess, the horns of border breach sounded.

Tauriel ran to the windowless window to see hundreds of elven guard scouring the perimeters of the halls and some heading into the forest. Gasping, she ran off to assist in her duties as captain of the guard, leaving the sleeping dhampir unattended.

Raven awoke to the blurry vision of two figures and muffled male voices, feeling as if she were either drunk or dying. Someone was vigorously rubbing and wiping her stomach with a cloth while she heard the snap of her iron shackles, one by one.

The scents, she recognized. One in particular as that of an unfamiliar vampire smelling of lavender and vanilla, and the other of a warlock she knew very well.

"Raven, can you hear me?" one voice said near her face, his breath smelling of...clover... and then her vision slightly cleared enough to see the eyes of the voice. One was brown, one was blue.

Instantly, she panicked and tried to scream, believing it was Jareth, but a large hand quickly covered her mouth.

"Raven! Shhh, it's me! it's me....Jace."

Her eyes then began to focus and widened in sheer joy. He had came back for her just like he promised.

Raven's attention then drifted to the other figure, the vampire she did not know.

"Who...who is that?" she asked of the tall, dark and handsome vamp with eyes of the ocean and a very distracting stone around his neck of a blushing rose color.

"Shhhh." the one like her whispered as he stared her down, then looked at Jace. "Jace...we must go...now."

"Raven...hold onto me." Jace commanded as he slid his arm under her legs and the other under her back.

She gazed up at him with smitten and stoned eyes. "Are... you going to take me away from this awful place...my..king?"

Jace sweetly grinned. "I am no king, but I will do just that."

Raven's arms gripped the warlock's neck tight as she burrowed her face into his intoxicating neck and he then shot out of the window as the mysterious vampire followed in a flash.

A vast majority of the Mirkwood elves surrounded Thranduil's throne, Tauriel and Feren before him as he paced about it in his scarlet robe with a look of darkness and disappointment upon his face. His voice was flat and sinister as he halted before them, leering down at the two speechless elves.

"How is it that with my two greatest captains and a regiment of highly skilled elven guard allowed two simple enemies to invade my lands and enter my halls, thus taking that of which does not belong to them??"

Thranduil's eyes narrowed at their silence and lowered eyes.

"If the cat does not release one of your tongues, my twin swords will."

"M..my lord...please...the horns sounded. I had to withhold my duties and aid in..." Tauriel swiftly answered, finally finding the courage to speak.

"Your duties were to guard the dhampir! As for the rest of you, there is no way to palliate the incompetence of your simple task in guarding my kingdom!" he snapped and slowly turned to pace about once more as he gathered his temper.

"I am reminded of the orc invasion on my docks many years ago and how thirteen diminutive dwarves escaped my dungeons under the nose of my guards. How convenient that one of those putrid greedy beings was that of your lover...Kili was it? Yes, I do believe that was it. That greed of desiring a lowly elf such as yourself caught up to him in the end, much like it did my son. Your soft spot for others, including the dhampir, is not compatible to the protection of this realm. The question now is, what do I do with you? For I feel there are no persuasive words for you to tell me."

Thranduil placed his arrogant nose in the air and walked off, gracefully wielding his sword and sheathed it, waiting on her reply.

Tauriel's eyes glistened of exasperated tears with the hurtful and intentional mention of Kili. How dare he, after all the hypocritical king had done himself. A king who believed his crown made him errorless, for all he had made was mistakes in his reborn state and then placed the fault on others.

Thranduil slowly turned and crept back to her with eyes of a lion targeting it's prey, serving intimidation as he leaned down, inches from her trembling lips and softly whispered.

"Your audacious tongue is fearless in your mind, but you have seemed to have forgotten that I can hear your thoughts at will, any day, any hour. Even when you sleep. Even the impure ones you have of myself. Maybe we can come to an arrangement to make them a reality this coming night."

Tauriel closed her eyes, letting the tears escape them as she searched for the right words to save her.

"M...mm..my lord...I..I have completed the task you asked of me. Surely that must count for something?"

"Is that so? Well then...you have nothing to fear."

His tone and eyes told her that she did...that she very much indeed had everything to fear.

"Now...Feren. You have been loyal beyond measure in all of your centuries here and are proficient in the responsibilities of supervising and maintaining this kingdom at my absence, as well as my son's, all which you have done commendably, with the exception of the care of my elk. The spider infestation, although not to my standards, has been kept to a manageable minimum. You have fought faithfully at my side in many of battles and destroyed the enemies. Your discernment is why you have remained here and yet, this day, a simple warlock and vampire eludes my people, including you."

"My lord...they...fly. We...cannot."

"We cannot fly? Hmm. It must be because we are ELVES. Tell me Feren, has all of your bows with arrows tainted with dead man's blood malfunctioned?"

"Well, no? my lord. They flew...too high for our reach."

"Oh...so what you are, in layman's terms per se, explaining to me is that it is actually the highly skilled archers that have malfunctioned? If you and my vast army cannot terminate TWO filthy fiends, do tell me how Jareth and his army of the dead can be defeated when they come...and they will come!!"

"Army..of the...dead..my lord? What does that mean?"

Thranduil's eyes fell shut as he heavily sighed and gritted his teeth.

"Not only did you go blind upon my arrival here and upon this day, but now you have gone deaf as well. What good are you to me?? It means that Jareth plans to unleash a weapon so great, it will destroy all before it." Thranduil explained with an ominous tone as he descended his platform.

"I want the watch doubled at our borders, all roads and all rivers, including the top of these halls and trees for air view. Since you are aware elves cannot fly, then be aware that they can climb and jump. If anything moves...kill it. That includes Jace Wayland and Matthew De Clermont. Find the dhampir and return her to me unharmed. No one enters this kingdom...and no one leaves it."

Jareth sat in the ruins of his kingdom that Thranduil had destroyed by dragon fire, knowing what the Elvenking had done to his child. His eyes, full of vengeance, were lost in the view of the dead forest as he twirled his three crystals round and round and round in his hand, for something inside of him had snapped far beyond the evil that he already was.

A part of him knew that Thranduil's revenge was justified, taking all that he loved as he had done to the elf lord, but that did not matter. Thranduil would pay a most dear price, this he vowed, as the wheels in his brain turned like the spheres in his hand. An eye for an eye for a final eye was where it all was at now by Jareth ending the vicious cycle once and for all and destroy all of middle earth, and he would have a child to replace the one taken from him as well.

"I will have the babe." he muttered through his teeth and then headed out to the special place where all had been prepared for the ritual to raise the evil dead by none other than his mind warped brother, Julian.

A pentagram had been displayed on the dusty floor of an old church not far from his labyrinth and the three pages from the book of the dead laid upon the altar, glowing in the candlelight.

"Time is short and it has come dear brother Julian. All will rue the day for those whom have ever crossed me. Like a thief in the night, the worst nightmares of every soul in middle earth will come true and I will take my rightful reign with my brothers and the demons of hell at my side and command. BEGIN!" Jareth howled.

"Yes bother."

Julian gathered the pages and took a seat. Flames formed over his hand as he smiled, swirling it about and then began to translate and read aloud the words of black magic, the blackest of them all.

The names of the dead were spoken and the list was quite long, but it was only a fraction of what would be released upon the world that night.

The sky darkened into a frenzy of Jareth's fellbeasts as wind, thunder and lightning consumed the dark realm in response to Julian's conjuring.

The names Julian vocalized were ones the woodland realm and beyond would personally know, for the Elvenking and all that he held dear, were the goblin king's main targets.

Those that were once evil before death, just as Jareth, would be far more diabolical than the devil himself and those that were of light would faithfully join the army of darkness in the destruction of all before them.

"Caroline, Carrie, Peter, Asher, Alfrid, Darken Rahl, Morwen, Malsha, Malsin, Maldyr, Kili, Viktor, Craven, Sally, Joliel, Kate, Orodreth, Olivia, Oropher, Carandolel, Smaug....."

A beam of fire spawned from the pentagram as a now cloaked Julian prepared to open the gates of hell.

The list from Julian's lips continued even further as he spoke into the blaze, including his four dead brothers and father Jasper, then carried on with Caroline's dead sisters and father as well.

And then....the portal to the world was opened and all of the dead were set free to wreak havoc and hell at their own will.

No dead were spared as hell on middle earth was unleashed, including Jareth's fiery wendigos, his sinister spies and killing machines.

"Go...assist in my take over. Eat drink and be merry! Kill them all! On Dasher, on Donner, on Prancer and Vixen, on Comet, on Cupid, on Donner and Blitzen! Rise from the ashes!!!" Jareth commanded as he bellowed in malevolent laughter.

"There will be only one king. One king to rule them all!!!"

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