#i think it's interesting how knives deals with his deep-seated anger and how he shows it

[maomango-doodle]

A totally normal talk between siblings

#trigun #trigun stampede #vash the stampede #millions knives #basically knives regurgitating his usual speech about how horrible humans are to get vash on his side #dude talks about equality but looks down (literally) on his brother #i think it's interesting how knives deals with his deep-seated anger and how he shows it #resorting to violence #or suppressing it by showing a softer side of himself #toootally not eerie after he's yelled and swung his knives everywhere #i tried to draw an action scene. my hand almost gave up ;;;; #can't believe i drew all of his silly lil knives one by one orz #same thing with his plant markings #dont tag this as kv pls #comic #shinxo comic #shinxo art

[jooniyah]

Poison Apple : The Second

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Fem Reader ; Min Yoongi x Fem Reader

AU: Yandere!au, Moneylender!Taehyung

Genre: Angst, Mature, Smut rated R

Warnings: NON CON, Hard Yandere behavior, kidnapping, implied forced pregnancy, emotional abuse, violence, blackmail, character death, voluntary starvation, degradation and physical abuse, slapping, cum play, manipulation, profanity, smut, blood, knives, guns, assassins, and murder.

Word count: 22.91 K

Disclaimer:  This is a work of fiction and I do not condone any of the actions of the characters in this fiction. This is to be treated as pure fantasy, and should not be misconstrued to be demeaning the idols in any way. If any of the above warnings cause you discomfort, kindly refrain from reading.

This is a non-consensual setting, please proceed only if you are not triggered by the warnings. All warnings for Chapter 1 apply. I repeat, please be sure to read all the warnings carefully.

Author’s note:  This is the second chapter of the Poison Apple Trilogy. Please make sure to read Part 1 before proceeding. 

Chapter 1   |    Chapter 2 

The man clad in black adjusted the scope of his M107 rifle, making sure his reticle was in perfect position. As he waited for his target, he did a quick sweep of the terraces of the adjacent buildings. No one was about. A faint slippery sheen of dew covered the cracked floors of the terrace he was positioned on. Any time now. He looked at the neon digits glowing on his watch.

Overhead, his skilled ears could pick out the droning of an approaching airplane. His skin felt clammy, possibly due to the side effect of his beta-blockers. Well, he’d finish the job and go have a well-earned vacation. Cold hands weren’t a big side effect, not when his pills gave him razor-sharp precision at shooting. The gangway of the cruise liner was slowly opened to allow passengers on board. The time had come.

He carefully combed his eyes through the influx of passengers, seeking the one face he was looking for. He didn’t even need to take the photo out of his pocket. He had committed the face to memory. And no disguise could fool him, he was ready for everything the target might try to pull off.

Time ticked on. People were walking on the gangway, boarding the ship, waving to their loved ones. But the target was not to be found anywhere. The described person hadn’t arrived, and the sniper had assumed that he could catch the target on the gangway. But as his professional eyes raked through the humans on board, he knew he was wasting his time. He remained in position, watching on as the ship sounded the final horn before gliding smoothly out onto the sea. He dialed the only number on his burner phone.

“Yes?” The tone sounded shrill and eager.

“A no-show. I repeat, it was a no-show.”

“What? Are you sure you didn’t miss-“?

“I never miss a target.”

There was a deep frustrated sigh.

“Fine. Abort and return.”

The sniper proceeded to pack up his gear and prepared to leave.

On the other end of the line, the figure exhaled sharply, muttering curses and bemoaning the failure. Just then, a dark outline materialized in the doorway, causing the figure to jump up, body numb with defeat.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“I won’t repeat my question again, Mrs.Min.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Then, answer me.”

You remained motionless, staring at the hard-grey table, fingers interweaved.

“Well?” The officer raised his voice, rapping on the table.

“I told you the truth.”

The man scoffed, leaning back in his chair.

“Listen, lady. You know your story sounds shit stupid, right?”

Your voice broke into a whisper.

“But it is true.”

He rolled his eyes. When he spoke again, his voice was dripping with sarcasm.

“Mr. Kim killed your husband? For you? He’s obsessed with you?”

“Yes.”

“You are giving yourself way too much credit, lady.”

You gritted your teeth, refusing to look at him. He clicked his tongue.

“Well, if your absurd story is true, where is your husband’s body?”

“I don’t know.”

He tsked under his breath. “So what proof do you have to tie Mr.Kim to this alleged murder?”

“None.”

He got up abruptly, shaking his head in irritation. He pointed a finger at you.

“You’re wasting my time. And for the record, Mr.Kim has been nothing but helpful in this investigation.”

You slowly raised your head. “What? What did he say?”

“Do you good to hear it and weave another absurd story, wouldn’t it?”

You watched him hesitate at the door, his hand resting on the handle. “If you are so innocent, Mrs. Min, why didn’t you report your husband missing?”

An angry fuse went off in your brain.

“Why would I report him missing, if he was already dead?”

“Can you afford an attorney, Mrs.Min?”

“I-What?”

The officer stared at you, pursed his lips, and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

The court-appointed attorney was a tall, curvy woman in her early thirties. She looked calm and had an air of high maintenance about her. You wondered how she could have accepted to defend you. Maybe the woman did pro-bono work. She probably had rich clients. Rich. You were once rich. When Yoongi was alive. Yoongi. A bitter feeling coursed through your heart.

Another detective accompanied the officer who had previously interrogated you. They settled across you and the attorney, scraping chairs on the floor as they took their seats.

“Well, Mrs. Min,” the officer began, “we understand you have mortgaged all your property.”

“Yes.”

“So, what happened to the money?” The officer flicked through papers on a clipboard. “50 million dollars, wasn’t it?”

The second detective pushed himself forward. “More importantly, where is your husband?”

A dull throb started in your temples and seared across your skull. You could shout yourself hoarse that Yoongi was dead, but none of these people would believe you.

When he received no reply, the detective persisted.

“You got rid of him because you wanted the money to yourself, didn’t you?”

The attorney interjected in a harsh tone.

“My client will not answer that.”

“You hid the money someplace, so you could go and retrieve it later.”

“Officer, you will not harass my client like this.”

“I won’t, if she agrees to speak the truth.”

The woman turned to you; harsh impatience evident on the curl of her lips.

“Not a word, Y/N.”

You nodded weakly. You had told everything to the cops already. No one believed in you, not one soul believed that Kim Taehyung murdered Min Yoongi to obtain you. It was nightmarish to go on a walk, people threw such malicious looks your way. What had you ever done to deserve this?

The officers poked and prodded for some more time, and finally packed their papers and left. While you walked out of the interrogation room, your attorney asked you to join her for lunch. You attempted to decline; you weren’t in the mood for lunch. Or anything for that matter.

But you had nowhere to return to, except straight into Taehyung’s world. It was better to prolong the journey back. Besides, the attorney told you that she wanted to discuss a few case details with you over lunch. Automatically, your feet started following her.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

The minute you sat down to lunch, you understood that it was a ruse. She neither ordered food for herself nor did she suggest you to. As soon as the waiter turned, she dipped her head low and spoke rapidly:

“I hear that they are bringing in a solid witness to testify against you.”

The surprise caught you off-guard.

“But I didn’t do anything. What is the person going to testify about?”

“That you knew Yoongi was mortgaging your property and you jumped on the opportunity to get the money.”

“But that’s insane! I never-“

There was a haughty roll of her eyes that sparked bitter anger in you. She looked at you as if you were kidding.

“Oh, come on, doll. You can tell me the truth. I’m the only person you can trust.”

Her judging gaze made you want to punch her in the face.

“You think I – I am guilty? You don’t trust me?” Your tone grew louder and a few people turned to glance at you. “Why the hell did you agree to defend me then?”

“Pipe down,” she hissed, looking around herself self-consciously. “They have a witness and a story that sounds better than yours.”

“And that means I’m guilty? Because my story sounds ridiculous?”

She shrugged as if she didn’t care. She took her phone out, swiping on it mindlessly. There was nothing except for the clink of glasses and cutlery around you before she spoke again.

“I want you to consider a plea deal.”

“And why would I, when I’m clearly not guilty?” You folded your hands defiantly, surveying her with a hard stare.

“This is not a simple Missing Person search. You are a person of interest in this case as a possible murderer.”

“They haven’t yet found the body.” Your tongue had a metallic taste when you uttered the word.

“Yet.” She let the words sink in. “But they have proof that you stole the money.”

“Stole? That’s my husband’s money! I was taking it to save him.”

“You know what, Y/N? This story is so silly. You are going overboard with the obsession angle.” She leaned back and lit a cigarette. “You know what really happened?”

She paused and exhaled smoke in your direction, tilting her head to look at you more closely.

“You knew your husband owed Kim Taehyung money. You urged him to mortgage your property. He was probably unwilling. So, you pledged all your property and got the money. The money was in your house. It was easy cash. Min Yoongi was anyway going to be penniless after that, so-“

“Stop it!” Your scream turned a lot of heads.

“Allow me to finish.”

“No, stop it! Stop it right now!”

She smirked lazily. “-So why lose the cash and end up with him? It’s easy, you killed him and took off with the money. You stashed the money and never intended to show up again. Not before someone reported Yoongi missing, that is.”

“It wasn’t like that! You are fucking wrong!”

She blew a smoke ring, not minding your distress in the least. “But that is what the prosecution is bringing to court. And they have a witness who saw you lugging all the money and fleeing the house in your nightclothes.” She paused to laugh. “Couldn’t wait to even get properly dressed?”

Her phone chimed, and she looked down. Just as quickly, she grabbed her coat and briefcase, making haste to get out. You stood up to follow, but she laid a hand on your shoulder and sat you down again.

“He’ll be coming now. Remember what I said, the prosecutor’s going to have a field day with your story.”

She was out of earshot even before you could frame the words: “He? Who?”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

You knew who was walking towards you before you even saw his face. Him. The man who had killed your husband. The man who you were trying to prolong going back to. Kim Taehyung.

He weaved his way through the tables at the restaurant, reaching your side like a piece of metal drawn to a magnet. He took his Aviators off, mussing his dark bangs out of his eyes as he sat down opposite you.

You got up to leave, and his hand shot through the air to grip your forearm.

“Sit down, honey.” His face was open and pleasant, but his eyes were unreadable. “You haven’t had lunch yet.”

The grip tightened, and you settled back down, a scowl on your face as you did so. You never dulled your scorching glare while he called the waiter and ordered food. After the waiter left, he turned to you.

“It’s been two weeks since it happened, Y/N. How much longer do you want me to wait?”

Tears pricked your eyes. Two weeks before, you had kissed Yoongi in Taehyung’s basement for what you hadn’t known would be the last time ever. You had been taken to another cottage of Taehyung’s after it happened. You had refused to eat or talk; you had been consumed in grief. Suddenly, a day ago, Wo Bin had tossed you in a car, and he had dropped you off at a hotel room. That same afternoon, the cops had found you and taken you in for questioning.

“Y/N?” Taehyung’s deep voice broke into your thoughts. “I’m talking to you.”

“What do you want from me?”

“I want you.”

“I’d rather go to prison; I’ll at least be free from your clutches.”

He snickered, flashing a boxy smile at you. If you didn’t know better, you’d call that an innocent grin. He leaned towards you, the smile still turning up the corners of his mouth.

“You? In prison? Oh , baby, that’s not a place for a princess like you.” His gaze dropped down before he looked into your eyes again. “Especially a pregnant princess.”

He watched the way your face twisted. The waiter brought the food, laying down the plates swiftly before you. Taehyung smiled at him in amiable politeness, waited for him to leave and resumed without missing a beat:

“You will have to give birth in prison, you’ll lose your baby after 18 months anyway. You don’t have relatives, so your baby will most definitely go into the system for foster care. Do you want that?”

You had no answer. You hadn’t thought of it ever happening, to be honest.

“It’s also possible you’ll be sentenced to many long years in prison. By the time you get out, your baby would be an adult.”

He saw the way your lips trembled as you digested the facts he was presenting. He bent down and sipped a spoonful of his soup. You looked at his bent head, weighing your options.

“It’s better than-“

Before you could say any further, he cut you short, raising his hand.

“I must say I look forward to adopting your baby.”

He grinned smoothly as he saw you sputter in dismay. God, you were so cute.

“What? Why would you? You don’t care about Yoongi’s baby.”

“Well, true, but the baby is part bastard and part angel. I like to focus on the fact that half of you will be with me as I await your return.”

He slurped the noodles in his soup with a flourish. “I can pull some strings to get the baby assigned to me.” He wiped his mouth with a tissue delicately, watching you the entire time.

“Don’t make me hate you even more, Kim Taehyung.”

He reached over the table, trying to take your hand, but you flicked it away. He sighed and shook his head.

“Eat up, Y/N. That attorney of yours kept you waiting without even offering food.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. She was probably working for him. He seemed to have a lot of people wound around his little finger. Except you. You fell silent, eating without looking up once.

The table was silent until he cleared his throat.

“I want you to think all this through and decide if you want me to help you.”

You scoffed at him. “Help me? How? Do you own the Justice Department too?”

He looked unfazed. A tiny smile played on his lips. “Eat and we’ll talk at the hotel.”

You fell silent again, but the question wormed its way out of your mouth despite your control.

“Why am I staying in that hotel? You didn’t take me to your house.”

“Because you mortgaged your house, you ran away with the money, and I don’t know you apart from the occasional meetings in the elite parties. In the past, when poor Mr. Min was alive, of course.”

“You don’t know me? Are you fucking kidding me, Taehyung?”

His boxy smile returned. Though these were not exactly favorable circumstances, the fact that you were so prettily angry made his heart warm. You were mad at him because he said he didn’t know you? A small jealous part of his heart sang in joy. Even if those words were uttered with hate, he was certain you would love him if you got to know him better. Until then, the subtle undercurrent would have to suffice.

“Like I said, we’ll talk about this at the hotel, Y/N.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

When you reached the hotel room, Taehyung opened the door, motioning for you to go in.

“After you, my darling.”

Once you were inside, he took off your coat, brushing his fingers against your bare arms, his fingertips leaving goosebumps in their wake. You could hear him sigh heavily behind you, and you spun around to face him.

“Get on with it.”

He raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “You mean, get on with making love to you?”

You swatted the hand that was ghosting your shoulder, your tone drenched in spite.

“You know what I meant, Taehyung. What the hell were you talking about at the restaurant?”

He pouted his lips and his face fell. “Oh. That.” He sighed again, walking over to the bed.

He sat down, patting the bed to indicate that you were supposed to sit down too. When you didn’t comply, he yanked you by the arm, making you sit in his lap. A hand reached to your side to pinch you in case you squirmed. By then, you knew better than to resist. He rested the side of his head on your shoulder, whistling softly.

“Baby, you’re going to be sent away for a long time.”

“For what? Don’t play your games with me, Kim Taehyung.”

He turned you so you were facing him. There was animation in his eyes, so unlike the usual blank stare. It looked almost as if he were sad.

“You’re going to be tried for the murder of your husband.”

You tried to jump up, and a sharp pinch stilled you into position. “But I didn’t kill him.”

He used his free hand to brush away the tears, his touch feathery light and exceptionally gentle.

“Even if they don’t find the body, there’s a lot of evidence for reasonable doubt, and that’s enough for the jury.”

A sudden tic made your lips tremble. He held you patiently, waiting for it to subside.

“What evidence?”

His eyes softened.

“Some blood. DNA.” He watched your expression as he added: “The fact that you mortgaged the property, got the money, and fled.”

“But I didn’t-” Your brows furrowed for a second before it struck you. “Bong Ju.”

He nodded without answering. He watched you work things out in your mind. He always admired your smartness. But after Yoongi died, you had become kind of slow at thinking through stuff. He wished you would get better quickly so he could pounce on you.

“So, what happens next? You kill my husband, put me in prison, and then take my child?”

He didn’t say anything, quietly looking at the beaded tears on the corners of your eyes.

“I can help you. I can make it all go away.”

Something made you squirm on his lap. To your utter horror, you discovered what it was. You hit his jaw, making him gasp. Pushing yourself off of his lap, you screamed, boiling with rage.

“You’re hard? This is making you hard? What kind of sick bastard are you?”

The scream didn’t have any effect on him. He kept staring at you, eyes burning with primal hunger. Watching you stand before him, face red in anger and nose flaring, made him feel things.

His voice was soft, almost inaudible. “You do that to me.” He reached out to grasp your hand again, and pulled you down so you were almost straddling him.

“Listen Y/N. You have made me wait long enough. I will say this only once, so you better pay attention.”

You struggled in his arms, trying to get away from him. But a hand firmly cupped your jaw and pulled you close to his face.

“Fucking. Listen.”

You nodded wordlessly, and he relaxed his hold on your jaw.

“Two scenarios. One, plead guilty and go to prison. They’ll try you for the murder too. Two, plead innocent and still go to prison. I’ve planted enough evidence to support both scenarios. And you’ll lose the baby in both cases.”

He looked at you chastely, eyes wide and sincere.

“I have both the prosecutor and the defense attorney ready to handle it either way. Any proof of your innocence turns up, your attorney will quash it down. She is very thorough. Your friend Jung Hoseok is already being watched.”

“You bought both the prosecutor and the attorney?”

“Money, baby. It’s what drives them all.”

“And? You want me to dance to your tune, don’t you? What is it?”

He smiled again, and the smile reached his eyes.

“Three, you walk away from all this. Innocent. Your baby lives.”

“In exchange for what?”

His eyes sparkled, and his hands softly squeezed the side of your hips.

“Marry me.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“What do you want, Se Jong?”

The man perched on the hood of the car didn’t flinch.

Wo Bin exhaled in irritation. He had other pressing matters to deal with. He had errands to run for his boss. The white folded paper was still in his pocket, making his mind itch to get on with it. The boss had given him the paper and asked him to find the man matching what was written on it. Strange order, but his boss probably had his reasons. He shook the thoughts away and focused on the man who was eating his time.

“Unlike you, I have work to do, Se Jong. Spit it out.”

The man addressed as Se Jong shrugged his shoulders, leaning back lazily on the car’s windshield.

“I don’t know man.”

Wo Bin ground his teeth.

“Why did you ask to meet me then?”

“I want more.”

“You already get more than enough.”

“Not as much as you do.”

Wo Bin’s nose flared. Having served in the military, it always hurt his pride to be compared to a civilian goon.

“I am not a bank robber like you, Se Jong. You’re not even a good shot. It’s a mystery why the boss still has you around.”

It was already a known fact that Kim Taehyung only employed the best of the best.  Wo Bin often wondered what a dimwit like Se Jong was doing in his Taehyung’s fleet.

“Banker. How do you think the boss stashes his money if he doesn’t have people in the bank pulling strings for him?”

“Get to the point, Jong.”

“I said it already I want more. I want you to talk to the boss for me.”

“Consider it never done.”

Wo Bin turned his back and stormed away, leaving the man on the car seething in anger. Little did he know that Se Jong wasn’t as harmless as he seemed.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

The courtroom was jam-packed. Your attorney had told you that the first sitting was just to warm the jury up to the facts of the case. But the sheer number of people in the gallery made you feel intimidated. Well, it was a case concerning the Min family. More importantly, Min Yoongi’s wife was on trial.

The prosecutor, Kang Minsook, made his opening statements, addressing the jury and accusing you of grand larceny. You watched on, neurons firing in your brain, as the prosecutor spun a splendidly woven tale of how you married Yoongi for money, felt cheated when he fell into debt, decided it was time to take the money for yourself, and fled.

Kim Taehyung was seated in the spectator area, dressed in his best of blacks, watching on as the prosecutor piled wrong information, wrapping up the lies smoothly with a few bits of truth so that it looked dirty, but believably so.

Your attorney made her opening statements, but they fell flat in front of the prosecutor’s powerful story of lies. One glance at the jury told you that none of them were buying the version of the case that the defense was presenting.

The judge turned to you.

“Mrs. Min, in this accusation of grand larceny, how do you plead?”

Your eyes swept over the jury. No soft glances were aimed towards you. You then looked at Taehyung, sitting with an air of regality as if he were presiding over the courtroom. Stretching yourself to your full height, you replied quietly:

“Not guilty, your Honor.”

A smile slowly spread across Taehyung’s lips.

The prosecutor was on his feet as soon as he got permission to start.

“I’d like to call the prosecution’s first witness, your Honor.”

You strained to see who was the witness. A tall man you knew only too well rose from the bench and took the witness stand. It was surely not the bald man you were expecting to see.

“Mr. Kim, please state your name and occupation for the sake of the court.”

The man looked straight ahead, flexing the muscles in his jaw. It made him look arrogant, giving off vibes of a man not to be messed with.

“I am Kim Namjoon. I’m the Executive Director of Park and Kim Motors Inc.”

“And how were you related to Mr. Min?”

“We were family friends.”

“Please elaborate on the nature of your relationship, Mr. Kim.”

The witness gazed at Minsook, and suddenly his eyes wore a brooding look.

“Min Yoongi and I were friends through our parents’ societal ties. I used to play Chess every evening with Yoongi before he got engaged.”

“So, your friendship with Mr. Min goes long back.” The prosecutor stopped to wipe his spectacles, leaving you wondering what he was up to.

“May I ask, Mr. Kim, as to why you stopped playing Chess with Mr. Min after his engagement?”

Your counsel shot to her feet.

“Objection, your Honor. The prosecutor is wasting the court’s time with irrelevant questions.”

Minsook looked at the judge with surprised eyes.

“But it is a relevant question, your Honor.”

“Overruled.”

Smiling broadly in a way that made your insides turn, the man turned again to his witness.

“Well, Mr. Kim?”

Kim Namjoon stared at you, so much malice concentrated in his eyes.

“His fiancée didn’t want me spending too much time with Yoongi.”

There was a pause. And then with a condescending tone, the next question was thrown:

“Maybe there was an innocent reason, Mr. Kim? Maybe the defendant wanted all the attention to herself?”

Once again, your counsel stood up with a loud “Objection, speculation, your Honor.”

“Sustained.”

With a wicked grin, the prosecutor threw a careless apology to the judge, looking at the witness expectantly.

“I don’t know. But now I know she wasn’t as innocent as she seemed.”

“Why exactly do you say that, Mr. Kim?”

Namjoon glared at you again.

“She didn’t even bother to search for Yoongi. She ran away.”

The prosecutor took a sealed evidence bag in his hand, turning so he was facing both the witness and the jury.

“And who filed the Missing Person report about Mr. Min?”

“I did. She didn’t. Because she was too busy counting the money.”

“Objection!”

“The prosecution will advise their witness not to make assumptive statements.”

But the damage had already been done.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

You sat and listened as your husband’s best friend told the court how Yoongi had been increasingly agitated in the months prior to his disappearance.

“He was in so much trouble, it was clear as day,” he said.

“And did he tell you what was bothering him, Mr. Kim?”

Namjoon clenched his jaw again. “He was missing his mother very badly.”

The wicked gleam in Minsook’s eyes returned.

“What happened to his mother, Mr. Kim?”

“His mother had been institutionalized. His wife and mother were not on good terms. It broke Yoongi’s heart to part with his mother like that.”

“So, Mr. Min’s wife sent her mother-in-law away?”

The jury watched Namjoon affirm that with a curt “Yes.” Your attorney made no attempt to object. Things were beginning to look dark for you.

“Why do you think the elder Mrs. Min was sent away, Mr. Kim?”

The judge waited for your counsel to object citing speculation. But she made no move. With a withering glance, the judge advised the defense to not indulge in speculation.

The question was rephrased with a sly grin.

“What did Mr. Min tell you about his mother being sent away?”

Namjoon looked at the jury with sincere eyes.

“He said that his wife was in danger because of his mother. Mrs. Min accused her mother-in-law of trying to stab her with a knife.”

“Did Mr. Min say that the accusation was correct?”

“He only arrived in time to separate them. So, there’s no proof of who instigated the fight.”

Your palms started sweating. A delicate web of lies was being spun around you, and the spider at the center of it all sat watching with quiet enthusiasm.

“Did you know that Mr. Min was in huge financial debt?”

Taehyung watched the witness shake his head, followed by a curt “No.” He slid his hand to his pocket where his phone buzzed. There was a single message on the notification shade.

“Done.”

He looked back at the man who was talking, turning his phone’s display off and allowing himself a smile.

The prosecutor was going on.

“Why didn’t Mr. Min confide in you, if you were such close friends? He could have even borrowed from you.”

Namjoon shifted in his seat, his thick brows crumpling slightly as he processed the question.

“I don’t remember exactly, but I heard in passing that his wife shopped extravagantly. I assume it was his wife who wrung him dry. So, he was probably unable to confide in me about his wife.”

The prosecutor beamed.

“Naturally.”

Your attorney interrupted with an objection citing speculation, which was sustained.

At that, the prosecutor produced another plastic bag of evidence.

“These are the receipts that prove Mrs. Min purchased exquisite jewels, your Honor.” He flourished the bag at the jury, eyes bright with emotion. “Each purchase cost more than the previous one, amounting to millions of dollars.”

Wearing a proud smile, the prosecutor thanked the witness and gave your attorney the nod to cross-examine the witness. The woman slowly got up, adjusting her robes as she approached the witness box.

“Let me start with the easiest question, Mr. Kim.” Her face took on an innocent expression. “Wasn’t Mr. Min already very rich? Why would he ever get into debt? He already owned the Min Group.”

Namjoon looked at her in confusion. “He didn’t own the Min Group. His father did.”

“The late Mr. Min?”

“Yes. Yoongi was only the executive director of the Min Group until his father died.”

You watched your attorney look suddenly uncomfortable. You didn’t understand the need for this line of questioning. The jury looked confused too. Until the next question tore through the silence.

“How did the late Mr. Min die, Mr. Kim?”

“He was involved in a car accident. He died of multiple organ failure.”

“So, both of Mr. Min’s parents were out of the picture shortly after he married the defendant?”

You couldn’t believe your ears. Was your own attorney suggesting that-?

“Yes.” Namjoon’s voice interrupted the thoughts racing through your mind.

The judge looked sharply at your counsel. Was she out of her mind, to hand such an insinuating lead to the prosecution?

“Are you going anywhere with this, counsel?”

Your attorney nervously bit her lip.

“No, your honor.”

She turned to Namjoon.

“Couldn’t the defendant have purchased the jewels even when the elder Mr. Min was alive?”

Namjoon wondered if this woman had even researched her case properly. What kind of attorney gave away their client like this in court? He looked at you, weighing his words.

“Mr. Min handled all the finance of the Min family. Yoongi could have bought her the jewels, yes, but his father had to okay any big expenses he made.”

“I see. Thank you, Mr. Kim.”

Namjoon was excused from the witness stand. You were in utter disbelief. You were being framed. By your own attorney. Taehyung was right. You were going to prison.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

 You couldn’t bring yourself to munch the sandwich that was before you. It was court recess, and your attorney was by your side, eating busily. She was completely oblivious of your apparent resentment towards her.

“How could you give me away like that?”

She looked up; eyebrows raised.

“Like what?”

You had to control yourself from shouting at the top of your lungs. Clutching the table hard, you rocked yourself, trying to be calm.

“You almost accused me of killing my father-in-law.”

She rolled her eyes with a blank “Eh.” On seeing you intensify the burning stare; she grumblingly munched the last bit of her steak.

“You’re already on your way to prison, dearie. Nothing I say or don’t is gonna help you.”

“You are my fucking lawyer!”

A few lawyers seated on the adjacent table murmured in disapproval in your general direction.

“Mind your fucking business!” You shouted at them, eyes blazing in anger. The woman clucked her tongue in disapproval.

“That temper won’t help. Don’t incriminate yourself even more. I did tell you to accept a plea deal, Y/N.”

Three tables away from yours, Kang Minsook was seated with his associates, deep in discussion.

“Something about this case makes me feel weird,” an associate was saying. “Why would the defense point out the senior Mr. Min’s accident? It only makes sense if we do. What is that attorney up to?”

Far back in the cafeteria, Taehyung sipped a cold strawberry milkshake as he watched you. Ugh. He had to endure the disgusting milkshake just for you. For you. Yes, he would do anything for you. But the obvious artificial strawberry flavoring was almost too much. You would pay later for making him drink such cheap stuff.

As his juniors droned on about the case, Minsook glanced over at your gloomy figure staring down at the table. It made him wonder how you were going to handle what was coming next.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

You were sure you were going to be called up for cross-examination as soon as the court was in session. Bunching the hem of your skirt tight, you bent your head in apprehension. They were going to call out your name. They were going to prove that you killed Yoongi. They were going to send you to prison. Your knuckles tightened around the fabric, the dampness of your palm transferring onto it.

“The prosecution summons Mr. Kim Taehyung, your Honor.”

All the fear in the world rolled into one tight ball that got caught in your throat. Taehyung was going to testify?

The black-haired man took confident strides as he made his way to the witness stand. Everything about him suggested a successful, genuine, and well-respected man. The ladies in the gallery murmured about how rare it was to see not one but two families in the elite circle pitted against each other. The thumping of your heart was so loud and deafening. Taehyung composed himself with a sincere look in his dark eyes.

“Please state your name and occupation for the sake of the court.”

He raked his eyes through the jury. “I am Kim Taehyung. I am the CEO of Kim Automotive LLC.”

Minsook considered the witness carefully.

“What kind of relationship do you have with the Min family?”

“We were both rich families.” Taehyung masked the bitterness in his voice. “We met at social gatherings.”

“Do you know the defendant?”

“Yes.” The answer was abrupt, leaving unsaid words hanging in the air. The prosecutor pressed on.

“How do you know her?”

Taehyung batted his thick eyelashes innocently, looking square into the eyes of Minsook.

“She came to me trying to pledge the Min estate.”

There was a sharp gasp from the spectators and the low murmuring started to grow louder before the judge pounded his gavel.

The prosecutor waited for all the hushed voices to completely dribble down into sharp silence before asking the burning question:

“The defendant sought you out by herself?”

You closed your eyes lest someone see the beaded drops that were threatening to fall. All the memories of what happened half an hour ago flashed in your mind in full throttle.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

You had been walking back to the benches outside the courtroom, when a man bumped into you, causing you to gasp out loud. As you clutched your shoulder and glared crossly at the retreating figure, you noticed chewing gum on your suit. Wincing in disgust, you tried to peel it off when you noticed a small neatly folded bit of paper sticking to it. You opened it, only to find four words written on the slip.

‘Barristers’ chambers No. 3. -KTH’

Turning just in time, your eyes caught Taehyung as he slowly watched you and walked ahead, leading the way.

── ⋆✩⋆ ──

“Well, sugar? Ready to change your mind yet?” were the words that greeted you upon entering the chambers.

The blinds were drawn, lending a dark ambiance to the room. Taehyung was half-leaning on the table, supporting the weight of his body on both his arms. He watched you, fascinated by the pencil skirt and the tailored suit jacket that fit you so well. It was a shame that you had to go through all the court drama. The worry on your forehead made him want to reach over and kiss all the tension away. Only if you let him. He sighed.

He pushed himself off the table, reaching you in determined strides, his face alight with emotion. With an arrogant flick of his wrist, he crooned in his deep voice:

“20 more minutes before the court is in session, darling.”

His long fingers gripped your jacket, pulling you into his chest. The fingers roamed on your person, finding purchase at the nape of your neck. The heat of his body accompanied by the firm grip of his fingers left you frozen in place.

Taehyung rang his tongue over his upper lip, curling his mouth in a suggestive smirk.

“So, yes or no?”

“I- How can you make it all go away?” your voice came in a bare whisper.

“Baby, I always get my way. Do you still doubt what I’m capable of?”

He nuzzled his forehead against yours, sighing deeply in content. His eyes fluttered closed, the steady rise and fall of his chest falling in rhythm with yours.

“So? What is it? Endure me, or spend a lifetime in prison wondering what I did with your child?”

“Plea-“

His finger shushed your lips, stopping you from saying anything he didn’t want to hear. His eyes were still closed, but there was a soft smile kindling in the corners of his lips.

“18 minutes left, Y/N. Say it. Yes or No?”

Your mind was a maze of emotions. Say yes and live with Taehyung? The man who killed your husband? You’d have to be insane to do that. Say no and go to prison? What would you do without your baby? Why did all of this happen? Where exactly did you go wrong? Why were you trapped in a room with your husband’s killer draped all over your bosom?

“15 minutes.”

A giant sob rocked your body, tears streaming down your face as you spat it out:

“Yes.”

His eyes opened slowly, a euphoric smile making his face glow in radiance. You could have sworn there was a glossy film on his eyes that suspiciously resembled tears.

“Oh Y/N. I love you.”

He peppered soft kisses on your cheeks and nose, leaning back reflexively at the wetness of your cheeks.

“Why the tears, my sweet?” He brushed the trickling tears with the tip of his thumb. “Anyone would think you hate the idea of marrying me.”

When he didn’t get a reply, his eyes went from soft to dangerous in one quick flash. He leaned over you so that you were arching yourself backward, his hand supporting the small of your back securely. He made as if to kiss your jaw, but flicked his tongue out instead. His hot tongue swept over the trail left by the tears, licking your face from jaw to cheekbone in one long stroke.

His other hand gripped your squirming hips hard, the dangerous glint was fixated on your pupils as he continued his stroke above your eyes, stopping only momentarily when your eyes fluttered at the wet feeling of your lashes. He finished the trail at your eyebrow, landing a soft kiss on the arch of your eyebrow.

“No makeup,” he observed, looking deep into your eyes. “And just as beautiful as always. Delicious too. Pity you didn’t wear lipstick; I’d have loved to have your lip prints on my cock.”

His grip of your waist loosened, and you pushed yourself upright, shuddering all over. You tried to wipe off his saliva with the sleeve of your jacket, but his hand stopped you with a harsh jolt.

“Never, remember, never wipe off anything I give you.”

You glared at him, the sticky wetness still bothering you.

“You disgust me, Kim Taehyung.”

His eyes crinkled in delight. “Aw, I love you too, darling.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Taehyung considered the question, ruminating on his thoughts.

“Yes.”

Minsook chose his words carefully.

“Can you tell the court what Mrs. Min said, Mr. Kim?”

“She said ‘My husband is in debt and I want to mortgage our property. He doesn’t want anyone to know, so I came to you instead of going to his friends.’ She looked very upset. “

“And you didn’t talk to Mr. Min about this before agreeing to the request?”

Taehyung looked annoyed.

“I trusted Mrs. Min’s words.” It looked like referring to you by that title made him sick. “I didn’t want her husband to feel uncomfortable, especially because she said that he wanted it to be discreet.”

You felt bile rising to your chest as you watched the bastard stack lie upon lie as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

Minsook considered the witness closely before asking his next question.

“Do you have witnesses to corroborate your story, Mr. Kim?”

Taehyung simply smiled, his eyes briefly flitting over to you. He ran his tongue over his lips as if your taste was still on them.

“At least twenty of my staff were present when she arrived at my mansion.”

Wrong. There were more than 50 guys that day when you went to him, dragging a suitcase in your pajamas. Of course, they would testify against you. The case was going to be a nightmare to get out of.

Taehyung was excused in haste. Turning to the judge, Minsook spoke so fast that you almost couldn’t keep up with his flow.

“Your Honor, the state pleads more time to prove that the accused mortgaged the Min property, took the money- “he glanced at the jury with emotion “-and killed her husband to get rid of liabilities. We have enough evidence for reasonable doubt.”

He appealed to the jury with strong words, trying to rock them in his favor.

“An innocent man loses all his money, his wife flees, she never reports him missing, his house is a bloody mess, with blood matching his DNA all over the place. The police found one airplane ticket in the defendant’s personal effects. Just one. Not two, if she is to be believed.”

He let the magnitude of his allusion sink in before throwing the next bombshell.

“As the defense uncovered, the elder Mr. and Mrs. Min were conveniently removed from the defendant’s life. The defense also confirmed that the defendant alleged that her mother-in-law was a threat to her life and sent her away. This raises doubt into the elder Mr. Min’s tragic accident.”

You were shocked into silence; the pain was overwhelming. You felt like you were floating above your body, detached and dead from all the pain and hurt.

Minsook was going on.

“While we can’t definitively prove that the defendant was involved in it, we do have the responsibility of looking keenly into the case at hand to make sure that justice is served.”

There was a brief interruption as the side doors opened, and a man walked in, making straight to your attorney. He handed her a package, whispering into her ear. She immediately stood up and asked for permission to speak. All eyes were on her, and no one noticed the brief looks exchanged between Taehyung and the mysterious messenger. Except you, of course.

“Your Honor, the defense wishes to continue this hearing in camera.”

The judge peered over his glasses at the counsel.

“What is the necessity for it, please?”

You saw the defense attorney wave the package at the jury, addressing the judge and jury at the same time.

“We have proof that Min Yoongi is alive.”

What? You gasped in shock, the news bringing you back to reality and grounding you. The brief respite was replaced with deep hurt when you looked at Taehyung. His single raised eyebrow uttered the unsaid. He had gotten his way. Just like he had said he would.

A loud babble of voices broke out in the spectators’ area, the droning of voices so loud that the judge pounded the gavel furiously.

“And what proof is there to confirm this news?”

Your attorney passed a few pieces of paper over to the clerk.

“These are Min Yoongi’s shell company records that prove that he is in possession of the 50 million dollars, your Honor.” She passed on more papers. “This flight manifest shows that a passenger named Soo Yeongguk was on board, carrying a passport with the same name.”

“And?”

“These surveillance camera pictures show that it was Mr. Min who used a fake passport in the name of Soo Yeongguk to flee the country.”

Minsook sputtered, “But Your Honor, the blood and DNA,” he was wringing his hands, “He couldn’t have flown with those injuries.”

It was explained away by the defense as non-conclusive.

“Mr. Min could have easily planted his blood just like he did everything else to frame his wife, your Honor. There is no hard evidence that he bled to death. Or even died, for that matter.”

“Why has the defense wasted the court’s valuable time when all these facts were already known?”

“We only got confirmation of the false identity a few minutes ago, your Honor.”

The judge rose up to stand, and immediately the whole courtroom followed suit.

“This will be further discussed in camera.”

The judge turned and left, and both the prosecution and defense scurried to fetch their documents and hastened to the judge’s chambers. The bailiff escorted the jury and left.

There was pandemonium and confusion after they left. People were restless, talking in hushed tones about all the drama that had just happened. As for you, it was pure shock that kept you standing on your feet. Shock at how easily justice has been swayed.

It felt like you were treading clouds when you were taken into the judge’s chambers. How could they have cooked up all the proof? You saw your husband’s death with your own eyes. Was there not an inkling of sunshine at the end of the tunnel? Not a drop of justice in the universe?

You felt numb and empty as you stood watching the judge reprimand your counsel for wasting the court’s time and resources. He also fined the defense. You weren’t listening. You didn’t care. Because you were declared innocent. And condemned to marry Taehyung.

You didn’t stay back to see Taehyung and the judge shake hands in solidarity. Nor did you hear Taehyung whisper:

“Good show. Expect the money in one hour.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

The cold water pricking your skin did nothing to assuage the hurt eating away at your heart. The incessant flashes of the cameras as you exited the courtrooms, the reporters calling your name out, the overpowering smell of sweat and stale coffee, everything came back with such force that you squatted in the shower, hugging yourself.

You had come back to the hotel alone. No Taehyung. Because he apparently ‘didn’t know you that much.’ Snake. And you couldn’t find a way to escape him. He had kept his side of the bargain. You had to keep yours. The cold water was a far better company than the man outside your door.

“Y/N!” The knocks on the bathroom door were growing impatient. “Come on out already.”

You looked at the flimsy contraption that was dividing you and him. You had to go out. He couldn’t be avoided forever.

“Want me to break the damn door?” The deep voice hollered in irritation.

Taehyung couldn’t wait to see you. You were now his. No force on Earth could take you away from him. Not on his watch. He had already received a text from Wo Bin. So that matter had been taken care of. He was in a jubilant mood.

The lock clicked, and you emerged, wrapped in the hotel’s complimentary white bathrobe. Taehyung thought that he had never seen anything so beautiful in his life. Wet hair clumped in loose coils around your shoulders, slowly dripping water on the robe. His heart sang, believing that you had been cleansed of Min Yoongi and his touches. You looked angelic; damp body covered in nothing but a robe. A strange feeling raged up from his gut, catching in his throat and smothering him in emotion.

His hand reached you as if it had a mind of its own. The fabric was rough. Wouldn’t it chafe your delicate skin? He balled his fist to contain his annoyance. His slender fingers bunched around the sash, pulling you into his arms. He gasped at how cold you were.

“You’re so cold, Y/N.”

Your face was blank. He got no response. Tracing his steps backward, he landed on the bed, pulling you into his lap.

“So cold,” he repeated again, gently nudging the robe away from your shoulder blades to press soft kisses. You squirmed, and he didn’t like it.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he snapped, cupping your jaw.

The hurt was too much and you broke.

“It’s- I – Yoongi.”

He held you in his arms, waiting for the violent sobs to subside, gently shushing you. He didn’t like that you were still thinking of Yoongi. But he had foreseen this. And he had already made arrangements.

“What about Yoongi, baby?”

You sniffed, unsure if you were supposed to tell him. Hell, what else did you have to lose?

“He- I- “More sobs and hiccups before you continued: “-I want to see him.”

He blew out his cheeks softly.

“And what good will that do?”

He attempted to wipe your tears, but you slapped his hand away.

“I’m his wife.”

“Not anymore. He’s dead.”

The words twisted into your heart like a cold iron dagger. The fighter in you returned with a vengeance.

“But Yoongi is alive. At least legally. You just proved that in court.”

He chuckled, the vibrations of his chest transferring onto your own body, sweeping you into the reverberation too.

“Yes. And unfortunately, he died an hour ago.”

You tried to push yourself off him in vain. The hold grew tight, and his eyes became harder. Your voice broke again.

“What do you mean?”

He cradled your head into the crook of his neck, and you revolted angrily by hitting his jaw and pulling back.

“Tell me, you fucking prick!”

He grinned, his irises dark, the danger swimming in them climbing out and coloring his features with malice.

“You’ll find out yourself.”

He sat motionless, looking into your eyes, as you hurled cuss words at him, shaking his shoulders, demanding an answer. You grew tired eventually, and stopped your tirade, choosing to go silent instead.

It was all quiet in the room, with Taehyung holding you in his lap, sniffing your wet hair, when the ringing of a cell phone screeched and cut the silence. The sound was coming from his pocket.

“Take it,” he urged, his voice dark and mysterious. “It’s for you.”

Grimacing, you dug your fingers into his pockets, scowling when he moaned at your touch. Upon finding the phone, you accepted the call and breathed out a shaky “Hello?”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“I don’t have the faintest idea why Yoongi did this,” Mrs. Park said, dabbing her eyes as she patted your hand. “He was such a good boy.” She shook her head sadly. “Maybe I didn’t know him that well after all.”

To say that her words amplified your hurt would be an understatement. You were surrounded by people who were willing to believe that Yoongi had deserted you, ending up dead by a twist of fate. Your Yoongi would never do that. Never.  Yet, the groups of people clustered in the hall seemed to think otherwise.

You looked around at the familiar yet strange faces. Did any of them even care? You thought not. And yet again, the man who destroyed your husband made his appearance, weaving his way through the flood of faces.

“My heartfelt condolences, Mrs. Min.”

You shook your hand free from his clasp. The venomous anger bubbling inside you made you choke on your words as you bit out a forced “Thank you, Mr. Kim.”

“Talk about Karma,” he went on, unmindful of your hostile countenance. “He left you desolate and Karma caught up with him.”

Before you could snap, Mrs. Park nodded her head, acknowledging his words.

“Mr. Kim is right, child. Yoongi got into trouble because he left you. No decent man fakes his death and pins the blame on his wife.”

She became agitated, the sorrow of losing her best friend’s son hitting her hard.

“I wish he hadn’t gotten involved with the mafia, though. He might have come back to you. Alas.”

More tears welled up in your eyes as you listened to Mrs. Park. How you wished you could scream that Yoongi was dead only because of Taehyung!

“I’ll call on Sung-Hee at the Klammer when I leave.” She patted your shoulder delicately.

You nodded with a soft whisper: “Please give her my love.”

Kim Namjoon had come to bid his friend farewell. He was silent as he surveyed the closed coffin, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he controlled his choked emotions. He paused to hiss in your ear when he was leaving:

“You killed him, bitch.”

The funeral was very difficult to get through. People kept walking up to you, expressing their disappointment at the way your husband had met his death. And all the while the killer stood at a corner of the hall, not caring in the least about the gross injustice Min Yoongi was being subjected to, even in his death.

When everyone left, you were standing alone in the hall, working up the heart to bid goodbye to the love of your life. Taehyung had left long ago, playing his part of an innocent visitor.

Your fingers traced the wood, feeling the ridges and following the embossed floral patterns. It was going to be very hard. Biting your lip to contain the trembling, you slid a finger under the coffin lid.

“I would advise against that.”

You looked up with a start. It was him again. You glared at him as your fingers pried under the lid again. He stepped forward with an urgent whisper.

“Y/N, don’t.”

You had already seen the worst happen right before your eyes. What more would frighten you?

Taehyung wasn’t fast enough, and you had already screamed and leaped back when he arrived at your side.

“I told you not to.” His arms embraced you, holding you tight while you continued screaming your heart out. You turned on him with vengeful fury, hitting his chest, throwing a volley of punches with your balled fists. He let you punch him, not even trying to shield himself.

When you were spent from all the screaming and punching, he hugged you as softly as he could.

“I hired the best mortician. But-” he sighed heavily “-yeah; Min still looks bad.”

He was met with no response. He continued hugging you, rubbing soft circles on your back.

“But-”

He bent down to look at your red eyes. “Hm?”

“Where’s his…” You swallowed the lump in your throat. “… his wedding ring?”

Taehyung shrugged his shoulders.

“I don’t know.”

It didn’t matter. You knew that the man inside the coffin was Yoongi. You would recognize those fingers from anywhere. Those long beautiful fingers that had traced lines of love on your skin ever so often. He was indeed gone.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Taehyung was silent as he watched the numbers on the elevator as it climbed up to his penthouse office. It had been three days since he had last seen you. You were at his mansion, alright, but you had locked yourself in a room and had refused to come out. He hadn’t seen you ever since the funeral. He idly wondered if you were still wearing the black dress from that evening. A small conscious cough interrupted his thought train.

So Na Yeon, his personal secretary, nervously fished in her pocket for a kerchief. “Please excuse me.”

He didn’t react. The top two buttons of her blouse were undone. Her lipstick was a shade too bright for his taste. She was interesting to look at. But no one could ever match to you. And thus, he found himself thinking of you yet again.

When the elevator dinged and opened, she followed Taehyung briskly, sailing into his office right behind him. She waited for him to be seated, and then got on with briefing him about his appointments for the day. But when Taehyung waved her away, she remained in place, biting her lip anxiously.  

“Well?”

She creased her forehead, deciding if she should tell him.

“Mr. Wo Bin reported that one of the men is rebelling, sir.”

“In what way?”

“It appears that he asked for a raise and Mr. Bin turned him down.”

“What did Bin say about it?”

She shook her head.

“He said that the man isn’t good enough and that he’s already a waste of your money.”

Taehyung lost interest. He wanted to get his work done with so he could think of you more.

“If Bin said so, I don’t doubt his opinion. Tell him to handle the guy in whichever way he sees fit.”

“Yes, sir.”

She turned and left. And Taehyung noticed her short business skirt for the first time. She seemed really proud of her figure. And then she faded out and his mind wandered to you once again.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

You could hear him fiddling with the doorknob. You knew he had a master key. You had expected to see him break into the room angrily as soon as you had slammed yourself in. But Taehyung did nothing of that sort.

Every morning, before he left, he would try the doorknob. Every evening, as soon as he arrived, he would do it again. There would be heavy sighs outside the door and he’d leave. It was like a ritual, and it went on for six days since the funeral.

On the seventh day, however, he lost his patience. He had waited and given you time to come back to him. He wanted you to walk into his arms willingly. But his patience was wearing thin.

“Open the door.”

He was pressing his forehead against the wood, gritting his teeth in suppressed anger. When there was no sound of movement, his voice rose to a high growl.

“I said open! Now!”

His large palms made contact with the wood as he pounded on the door. Suddenly, the door gave way and opened, the darkness inside the room making it hard for him to see you. It didn’t help that you were wearing black too. At last, he made out your outline.

He reached over to flick the light on, and gasped as soon as the light hit you. There were deep dark circles under your eyes. The straps of the dress were loose and ready to fall from your shoulders.

“God, Y/N, you look like Death.”

He cautiously approached forward, running his eyes over the clavicles that were jutting out sharply.

“It’s been six days. Seven, almost.” He took your hand, pressing it gently. “Come out.”

“No.”

Your voice was so low that he tilted his head to catch the words.

“You need to eat.”

“No.”

He tugged on your hand hard, anger rising in his chest.

“It’s not good for- ” he eyed your belly, “-that thing inside you.”

Hatred lit a spark in your blank eyes.

“It’s a baby,” you hissed, pushing against his chest with all your might. “It’s Min Yoongi’s baby.”

“Yeah, whatever. Do you want it to die? Come out and fucking eat.”

The glaring eyes were better than the blank ones, he noted. He liked you better when you were all animated and furious.

“I wasn’t starving myself. The mini-fridge…“

“I don’t think fruit would nourish your bastard enough. Stop arguing and come out.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Taehyung knew the answer before he even asked the question out loud.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

You were dressed in a soft cashmere sweater and jeans. Yoongi used to love that sweater. He would always comment on how it made you look like a fairy cloud.

Taehyung knew the clothes only too well. He had seen you wear the sweater on multiple dates with Yoongi while he was following you around. It made him mad to see you still dressing up for him.

You didn’t even turn his way, throwing the answer at him sullenly:

“My husband’s grave.”

Taehyung leaned back on the sofa, propping his legs up on the coffee table.

“And who exactly is buried there?”

You turned and stared at him, confused.

“Min Yoongi?”

Taehyung chuckled heartily, crossing his arms and gazing fondly at you.

“Oh honey, how naïve you are!”

“What do you mean?” Anxiety pooled in your chest as he continued chuckling without answering.

He took his sweet time to answer, leaving you standing puzzled.

“Do you honestly think I’d let you visit that bastard in his grave, Y/N? Just so you can make him a martyr? Do you think I’m a fool?”

“What- what do you mean?” you repeated again, feeling your chest tighten.

“He isn’t buried there. There’s another dead guy matching his description buried in his stead.”

“But- the coffin-“

“Oh, yeah it was him in the coffin, all right.” He yawned lazily. “Switched bodies on the way to the cemetery.”

He watched all the emotions flashing on your face, the quiver of your lips, the unblinking eyes as you grasped all the information he had just stated. Finally, a cold blank stare replaced the myriad of emotions that had lit up your face. Slowly, you walked back into the bedroom, locking yourself shut. Taehyung sighed deeply. You were finally his.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

It was obvious to Taehyung that you were suffering him just for the sake of your baby. It was bittersweet to him that the only reason you would stay alive was Yoongi’s child growing inside you. He wished fervently to get rid of that tiny Min seed, but he knew the aftermath would be disastrous.

You talked to him in barbed tones only if it was absolutely necessary. The rest of the time, it was as if he was invisible to you. He had forced you to sleep in the master bedroom with him. But it hurt him to see the wide gap in the sheets between him and you every night.

Sometimes, he would turn in his sleep and a finger would brush against you. And he’d stay wide awake watching you huddle on the corner of the bed, sobbing quietly. It became increasingly apparent that you weren’t sleeping at all. If he so much as shifted in his side of the bed, you would immediately flinch.

Part of him wanted to understand, to hold you, and say that he loved you and wouldn’t hurt you. Another part of him was fueled by jealousy, that even in death, Min Yoongi was winning your attention. It was frustrating to him that his enemy wasn’t alive. Who could fight a dead man’s memory?

It was that part of him that broke loose, when he saw you crawl on your side of the bed, wearing an oversized hoodie that reeked of another man. Not letting him touch you was already a sore point. And the hoodie just made him go ballistic.

“What the fuck are you wearing?”

“Huh?” You looked down at Yoongi’s hoodie. “I am cold.”

“Wear something else or strip naked for all I care.” His nose was flaring with the exertion it took to control himself.

You glared at him for a hot second.

“Fuck yourself.”

Without another word, you turned your back to him.

There was a sudden jolt as he pranced to your side, pulling you so you were lying on your back. His whole countenance was flashing with murderous rage. His knees were on either side of you, his arms pinning your shoulders to the bed. Hot breath fanned your face as he dipped his head down.

“Throw everything away. Everything that belonged to Min.”

You stared at him in defiance.

“What about me? I belong to him.”

His lips twitched ominously.

“He is dead.”

You didn’t back down in the slightest.

“Yes. You killed him.”

You could see the internal struggle he was going through to stop himself from hitting you.

He took a deep ragged breath and dipped his head even closer to your face.

“Listen, Y/N. Everything I did, I did because I love you.” He gripped your jaw hard when you rolled your eyes. “I went through a lot to get you. And I will not let you screw this up for me.” He paused with a haunted look in his eyes.

“Why is it so hard to love me?”

He looked at your lips as if they were curling around the words that would be his lifeline.

“Because you are not Yoongi. You killed him.”

His hot sigh fell on your lips, the heat sucking all the moisture from the soft flesh. You were scared that he was going to kiss you.

He leaned back a bit, catching hold of the hem of the hoodie.

“Are you going to remove this, or should I?”

He got off you, turning his back to you as he rummaged in his closet. Without looking back, he tossed his grey oversized sweater at you. He didn’t wait before adding:

“Wear that or sleep naked. Your choice.”

It gave him wicked joy to see you dressed in his clothes. His scent would be all over you, washing away that bastard’s. He made a note to throw away everything you owned and buy you new ones. Nothing should remind you of Min. Even the most inconsequential thing would have to go. He looked at your back wistfully. Everything but that thing inside your belly.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Two weeks passed uneventfully. Taehyung had given you a restricted phone. You could only call Taehyung with it. Calls to Hoseok and others never went through. You felt like your world had suddenly shrunk to one individual.

There was nothing to do in that big house. You weren’t allowed to work, because, apparently you were ‘not ready yet.’ Sometimes, it crossed your mind that you hadn’t received any letters or calls from your clients and friends. But it was probably because Taehyung screened everything. You were sure he’d filter the air you breathed if he had a way to.

You wondered how your mother-in-law was. Why was it that she went crazy but you didn’t? Had your love for Yoongi not been strong enough? Were you not anchored deeply with Yoongi as Sung-Hee had been with her husband?

Would you end up in a room next to your Yoongi’s mother? But you were sure they would take away your child if you went to the Klammer Institute. No, you shivered in disgust. You would never let Taehyung destroy the little piece of Yoongi left in the world.

The next morning, you emerged from the bathroom, body drained in exhaustion. Nothing you ate seemed to stay in your tummy. Wearily, you padded over to the full-length mirror in the dressing table.

You were pulling the shirt up and gazing at your belly when there was a click behind you. Taehyung stood immobile at the doorway, mouth agape.

His eyes were fixed on the mirror, looking at the tiny flab on your erstwhile flat belly. You had been only a couple months pregnant when Yoongi died, so the bump hadn’t shown. But nature was going her way, and soon you would be heavily pregnant, belly rich and round with child.

Taehyung gazed silently, not uttering a word. It was as if he were on mute. When he opened his mouth, at last, the words that shot out were:

“Time to marry.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Your plea to wait longer fell on deaf ears. Taehyung didn’t want to delay marrying you. He wanted to protect his ego. He would marry you before your pregnancy showed.

You pointed out that people would call you an unscrupulous woman who remarried even before flowers took root on her husband’s grave.

“Do you want everyone to hate me?”

He didn’t even flinch.

“Everyone already hates me. At least you’ll be on my side.”

No matter how you pleaded, he refused to listen. He reminded you of the jail time he had saved you and your baby from.

“It wouldn’t take me a minute to get you arrested again, you know.”

He looked at your midsection. “Want me to sign up for foster care?”

There was no way out. You slumped your shoulders in resignation. It was part of the deal, after all.

“Nothing lavish.” You licked your lips nervously. “Just take me to the fucking courthouse and get it over with.

Taehyung smiled, eyes dancing. The sunny smile lit his face aglow, a strange softness shading his sharp features.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“Y/N, you really are a mystery. So soon?”

Mrs. Kim didn’t care to lower her voice.

“Leave her alone, Mrs. Kim.”

Hoseok’s tone was clipped, annoyance evident on his face.

Bo Na was holding your hand, patting it slowly, her eyes assuring you that she understood why you had to do what you did.

Taehyung smiled, finger grazing the rim of the champagne glass. He was wearing the tux he had bought months before you married Yoongi. He had spent countless nights running his fingers over the dreamy satin, his mind dreaming up heady concoctions of how sparkling you would look as you walked down the aisle, on his arm. He had woven all his dreams into the very fabric of that tuxedo, and the fact that he had, at last, attained what he wanted, made his heart warm.

“To tell you the truth, Mrs. Kim,” he sipped some champagne, waiting until all the attention was on him, “Y/N is pregnant with Min Yoongi’s child.”

Bo Na gasped, her hand flying to her mouth to contain the shock.

Mrs. Kim looked just as shocked. She couldn’t stop lowering her eyes to your belly.

Taehyung continued:

“She needs a person by her side, especially after losing Yoongi so tragically. I was Yoongi’s friend, and I can’t let Y/N suffer by herself.”

You wished the champagne were laced with poison. When had you become so weak? How was it that you let him puppeteer you into silence? Should you have tried and killed him before things got so complicated?

“Lost in thought, lamb?”

Taehyung grinned. No water on Earth would have doused the fiery glare you threw his way. Mrs. Kim called out to her son who was passing by.

“Namjoon!”

Yoongi’s best friend clenched his jaw and exhaled loudly before making his way to his mother.

“Yes, mom.”

“You were wrong about Y/N, boy. The poor girl is pregnant.”

His thick eyebrows arched at you in surprise.

His mother went on.

“And Taehyung only wanted to help, poor darling. Such a good man, he is.”

Namjoon’s eyes locked onto Taehyung’s. The air felt electric as they stared each other down. Namjoon deflated eventually.

“Yeah, I’m sure he is. Excuse me, please.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

There were no words to describe how embarrassed you were by the whole wedding affair. Everything was the opposite of nothing lavish. The decorations were all extravagant, sophisticated, and gaudy in the face of the fact that you had been widowed only months ago.

Taehyung had invited every person who had attended your first wedding with Yoongi. It was almost as if he wanted to flaunt you and brag about how he had fooled them all right under their noses. He was everywhere, flitting from one guest to the other, flashing his boxy smile, playing his part of the perfect host.

The guests were confused if they had to offer their condolences or wishes. It was very awkward for you, the little rip in your heart deepening with each guest’s flustered greeting.

Wow. Everyone pretended as if Yoongi never existed. As if he had never been killed. Killed by the man who danced through the halls as if he were the epitome of innocence.

Hoseok took your hand, leaning in to whisper.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I wish I could kill Taehyung.”

You blinked away the tears.

“Yeah, so do I.”

The sound of a spoon tapping a wine glass cut through the chatter.

“Ladies and gentlemen, your attention, please!”

Everyone stopped chatting and looked expectantly at Taehyung’s uncle, who was all smiles.

“I’d like to say what a fine boy Taehyung is, deciding to take Y/N under his wing, after the terrible misfortune that befell her.” He raised his voice to a higher note. “Especially because he didn’t want her child to be fatherless.”

If you ever had the power to vanish, you would have loved to use it at that moment. There were several gasps and turned heads that looked your way.

“Congratulations, to the new couple!”

Taehyung’s uncle raised his glass, and scattered applause sounded, and grew louder as people digested the news.

Taehyung stood with his head bent, a shy smile painting his cheeks pink.

That devil.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Going through the whole ordeal of the wedding was emotionally taxing. Every little thing about the ceremony reminded you of the gummy-smiled beautiful man you had married with so much love. When Taehyung slid the ring on your finger, you felt a wave of nausea that certainly wasn’t related to your pregnancy. He lowered his head to kiss your knuckles, loving the way the beautiful cushion-cut diamond adorned your pretty hand.

As you were walking out, trying not to cringe at Taehyung’s grasp on the small of your hip, a woman stumbled and dropped her glass, splashing wine all over the front of your dress.

“Oh! I am so sorry!”

Your brain couldn’t get irritated enough to lose your temper. Not when a man had already forcibly married you and assassinated your darling Yoongi’s character just before your eyes.

“It’s alright, Na Yeon.”

Taehyung waved her away, not angry in the least. He then leaned in to whisper in your ear:

“I’m going to rip that dress off your body anyway.”

The ride to his mansion was the longest. You had been living there, yes, but as Mrs. Min. You had hidden behind that name as if it were a consecrated circle. But this time, you were going as Taehyung’s bride. Nothing was going to stop him from claiming you.

“Welcome home, Mrs. Kim,” Taehyung sang to you as the car pulled into the driveway.

“Taehyung-“

He laid his slim finger on your lip, shushing you.

“Call me Tae.”

You scoffed in disbelief.

“You really think I’d call you that? What, do you think I love you?”

He grinned happily.

“You do. You just don’t accept it yet.”

There was a battle of stares and you turned on your heel, stomping away to change out of the stupid wine-soaked wedding dress.

It was confusing when you stopped outside the bedroom door. Because the knob wouldn’t turn. You were fiddling with it for a good five minutes when Taehyung’s chuckle fell in your ears.

He was leaning against the banister, a set of shiny keys in his hand.

“It’s customary to give the lady of the house all the keys,” he drawled, twirling the silvery loop that jangled in his hand. “Our bedroom is upstairs, Mrs. Kim. Newly decorated just for us.”

Irritated, you plucked the keys out of his fingers, huffing your way up to the damned bedroom. When you threw the door open, you understood that he was telling the truth.

The whole room was painted in pastel cream colors, books and music stacked neatly on the glass shelves. There was a huge closet, with mirrors for doors. The closet directly overlooked the giant white bed. Rose petals were strewn across the bed to make a big flower heart.

You knew he was behind you when you heard the brisk step of his shoe.

“Like it?”

You could almost hear his smile in those words.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

The petals stuck onto your thighs as you rolled out of bed. Taehyung was sleeping, his chest pressing against the bed, his arm strewn over a pillow. His rhythmic breathing confirmed that he was asleep.

You shuddered at the shrunken petals, crushed under the weight of your bodies. Taehyung’s dark hair fanned over his arm, and you could see his veins bulging underneath his skin. So strong. Yet, he hadn’t thrown himself at you as you had feared.

In fact, he had gone straight to shower upon entering the new bedroom. You had changed into shorts. Strangely, all your long night pants were missing from the new closet.

Taehyung hadn’t made any sudden moves. He had emerged from the bathroom, stood before the closet-mirrors, tightened the cords of his pajamas, and turned to you.

You had been absolutely sure that you were going to be claimed harshly. But he had simply knelt down, both hands on either side of you, and leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead. Accompanied by the distinct sniff of his habitual smelling of your hair. And then he had risen up and gone to his side of the bed.

Sneaking a look at the man sleeping across the bed, you couldn’t understand why he hadn’t thrown himself at you forcibly. Had he not done it in the glass room?

The bedside clock ticked on, and you decided to pay your parents a visit. You hadn’t been to see them in a long time, ever since Yoongi had started having money troubles. The last time you had visited them, you were Mrs. Min. Something inside you just wanted to get away from the sudden overload of being married to your husband’s killer. Your mind craved something to keep you from going insane. Something that was a constant in the troubled times of uncertainty.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Months ago

Yoongi was at home, all alone. An empty whiskey bottle was lying on the table, rolling to the sides a teeny bit every now and then. He couldn’t believe he had gotten into so much trouble. All those years of hard work his parents and grandparents had put into the Min Group, all the effort, it was all falling apart. Because of him. The heir who wrecked the family. He could almost see the headlines in the newspaper.

His breath was probably smelling like whiskey. You would find out. He sighed.

You. Beautiful, gorgeous, wonderful you. Why had things gone so bad? Why did he ever trust Wo Bin, that bastard?  A thousand questions raced in his mind, the drunken haze making them even louder. How could he ever tell you that he had let you down? That he had let his entire family down?

He glanced at the digital clock on the counter. 3 pm. You would be home soon. Good gosh, was it Wednesday already? Kim Taehyung had threatened to show up at the Min house if he didn’t pay up by Friday. What was he going to do in such little time?

A clang of the doorbell startled him. You carried your own key. Who else was at the door?

Yoongi stood up and the headrush made him stumble around a bit. When he finally opened the door, a delivery girl was standing outside. She was carrying a bouquet of lilies. Lilies. They were your favorite. He was confused. Who sent you lilies at your home?

“Delivery for Mrs. Kim?”

Yoongi stood stunned. What the hell?

“You’ve got the wrong address.”

He tried to shut the door, but the girl persisted in a shrill voice.

“A person called Y/N? Does she live here?”

“Yeah- why…?”

The girl thrust the bouquet in his hands, grinning cheerfully.

“Then these are for her.”

She hopped away, leaving him standing at the porch, wondering what in the world just happened.

When Yoongi went back in, his gaze fell on the little card attached to the bow on the stems. It read:

‘To the future Mrs. Kim.

All the love, KTH.’

The words made Yoongi so angry that his fingers started shaking alarmingly. There was a band of sweat under his collar, even though the AC was on full blast. Anger coursing through his veins, Yoongi clawed at the card and tore it to pieces. He had never been so insulted in his life.

Outside, the delivery girl dialed a number and waited for the man to pick up.

“I delivered the flowers to him, Mr. Bin.”

She paused to listen.

“Yeah, he was alone.”

Yoongi was on his way to dump the flowers in the trash can when his phone rang. Swearing under his breath, he threw the bouquet on the counter and picked up.

“Min Yooooongiii…”

The deep booming voice drawled in his ear. Yoongi felt his cheeks heat up. Sweat was beginning to trickle down his forehead.

“Quit playing your games with me, Taehyung.”

There was a throaty chuckle on the other end of the line.

“Do you think your wife will like the lilies?”

“I swear I’ll-“

“I am sure she received another delivery at her studio.”

Yoongi went mute. What did the card on that one say? He started panicking.

“I’ll fucking kill you, Kim Taehyung.”

The caller laughed in a way designed to specifically irritate Yoongi.

“We’ll see. Remember you only have till Friday to pay up.”

The line disconnected and Yoongi was left fuming, unable to collect his thoughts. He needed alcohol. Something. Anything. Just to douse the white-hot fire burning in his chest.

── ⋆✩⋆ ──

“Mrs. Min?”

You had moved into the new studio only a couple months back. You primarily operated from home, but the studio was needed when you met other clients. Yoongi had set you up with a beautiful studio complete with hand-picked designers who assisted you.

“Yes?”

“Miss Yung is requesting to meet you tomorrow, for lunch.”

You looked at the calendar. Thursday was when you always went to see your parents. But Yung Min-Ji was a wonderful client, and you did have a lot to discuss with her about the styling of her new condo.

“Tell her I’m available.”

“But your usual schedule-“

You smiled lightly.

“I’ll go today instead. No worries.”

It wasn’t a sentiment to go only on Thursdays. It just happened to be that your schedules were light on that day of the week. You glanced at the time. 2 pm. You could use some fresh air.

There was a cool breeze when you stopped by the florist to get your mom’s flowers- carnations. You were walking absent-mindedly, coming to a stop in front of the headstone. You looked at the grave, confusion creasing your eyebrows.

There was a beautiful bouquet of white carnations laid neatly on each of your parents’ graves. The flowers were fresh as if someone had just laid them out. But no one was around. You were the only living person in the cemetery. You knelt down, finding a pool of molten wax. It was hard to the touch. Someone had come by earlier. Further inspection showed that both graves had indeed had carnations and one small lit candle on them. But, they were left by whom?

── ⋆✩⋆ ──

The sound of gravel crunching under the tires of your car woke Yoongi up. His head was throbbing. He held his head, steadying himself before getting up.

“Baby, I’m home!” your melodic voice chirped at the door.

Before he even got to hug you, he was met with your screeches, as you were hollering in excitement. You were jumping up and down in his arms, eyes shining in delight.

“Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongiii-yaahhhh,” you crooned, grinning eagerly, “The flowers- was that you?”

There was a catch in his throat while Yoongi racked his brain.

“Uh- yes. Liked them?”

You swung yourself on his arms, giggling.

“Like? I loved them!”

Oh shit. He remembered the forgotten lilies on the counter. He had meant to throw them away. Damn. How would he explain them?

“Y/N,” he whispered, catching hold of you. “Go on and shower, I’ll be right back.”

You nodded, suddenly transported back to reality.

“Yoongi- you smell of whiskey.”

He turned his back to you, advancing in swift steps to grab the cursed lilies.

“I’ll be back.”

You made your way to the bedroom, mind still buzzing in happiness. You hadn’t even looked at the lilies.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Present day

The soil was wet under your shoes, from all the dew. The guards had shut up and let you leave on foot, without insisting on approval from their boss. Fucking privilege of being Mrs. Kim, ugh.

The faint smell of cut grass kissed your nostrils as you walked absently. It was still early in the morning, and the cool air helped ease your feverish tension. A man was raking leaves near your parents’ graves.

You walked faster, reaching his side just in time to see a bouquet of shrunken white carnations, withered and sad. There was molten wax on the cold marble, just like there had been before. The man sank to his knees, scraping off the wax gently. He didn’t even look your way.

But the flowers and candles? Who was it?

“Excuse me, um, sir?”

He raised his head, one good eye looking expectantly at you, while the other was clouded with cataract.

“Yes, miss?”

You gestured towards the graves.

“Those flowers… do you know who-“

“Aye, them flowers,” he shook his head, “I don’t know nothin’ about who leaves them.”

You crinkled your forehead.

“But you were cleaning the wax, so I-“

“Aye, miss. I been paid to keep these two graves clean. Good money for an odd job.”

Your heart started fluttering wildly.

“Paid? By whom?”

He made a stern face as if he were concentrating.

“Dunno. I been paid to take care of the graves as long as I live.”

He resumed scraping the wax, talking slowly.

“Man paid five grand, one time. Said ‘em graves should be kept spick and span.” He paused to turn around self-consciously. “He said he be checking on me, makin’ sure I ain’t skipped town with them money.”

You didn’t know what to think. It was a weird piece of information to process.

“How long since he paid you, sir?”

He closed his eyes, maybe he was thinking.

“Four years? Maybe five-ish,” he said when he finally opened them.

“Miss, tell him I be doing the work all right!”

The man hollered at your retreating back, nervous that you were spying on him.

You nodded, walking rapidly away. It was incomprehensible. It was a dream. Yes. You had probably dreamt it up. You would wake soon and find your husband’s killer draped all over you.

When you returned gloomily to the mansion, Taehyung was lounging on the sofa, flicking through the pages of a business magazine. You ignored him and made straight for the bedroom. It was only when you hit the shower that you remembered what day it was. Thursday.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“I’m going back to work.”

Taehyung lowered his glass, eyelashes almost dusting the rim of the glass.

“Doing what?”

You folded your hands, staring him down.

“Designing homes and offices.”

He grinned, sipping juice innocently as you tapped your foot in impatience.

“And who do you think wants Mrs. Kim to design for them?”

You hadn’t forgotten that the title alienated you from the rest of the elite. But hadn’t you a uniqueness of your own? You were sure they wouldn’t discriminate you. They were all your friends and Yoongi’s, weren’t they?

“I have friends.”

He took another long sip, smacking his lips just to annoy you.

“No, baby, you don’t. To them, you’re nothing but a traitor.”

“I’m not.” You were sure that he was just manipulating you into his twisted theories.

He tilted his head like a confused puppy.

“Don’t believe me?” He thrust his hand into his pocket and pulled out his phone, extending it to you. “Go on, try calling someone.”

Your instinct was to dial Hoseok’s number. But you knew he would stay by your side forever. Calling him would be like mistrusting his friendship. You thought hard. Maybe you could call Mrs. Park.

You dialed her number feverishly, hoping she would pick up. You didn’t know you were holding your breath until the line clicked and a voice spoke out:

“Yes? Mrs. Park here.”

“Oh hello, Mrs. Park, I’m Y/N, how ar-“

She cut you off swiftly.

“Y/N? What is it, child?”

You nervously looked at Taehyung out of the corner of your eyes. He was leaning back, a bored look on his face as he blew raspberries. Twisting the hem of your tee, you chuckled consciously.

“I was wondering if you knew anyone who’s looking to-,” you licked your dry lips, “You know, to redo their apartments and stuff.”

There was an awkward pause.

“Ah Y/N, I wish I could help you. But you know, Jaewon found a new designer who specializes in Earth tones and my daughter says it’s the craze right now, so-“

“I see.”

Mrs. Park heaved a deep sigh.

“So, yeah, everyone is more interested in following that trend, naturally,” She was rambling to neutralize the awkwardness, “Besides, you’re pregnant and… I hope you don’t mind, dearie.”

“No, Mrs. Park, it’s fine.”

“Call me if you want anything, Y/N.” More like ‘Don’t disturb me again, Y/N.’

“Yeah. Thanks.”

You couldn’t bear to look at the gloating face that smirked at you. He was right. Everyone loved you only when you had been a Min. But as soon as Yoongi died, their allegiance had crumbled to dust.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to hate them, though. You had married Taehyung just months after Yoongi died. Married Kim Taehyung, of all people. It was a wonder that Mrs. Park had even picked the call.  

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Every morning, you stood before the mirror, gazing at your belly. There was no significant bump, but you could just feel the little piece of Yoongi stir inside you. It made your heart sing. How happy Yoongi would have been! How wonderful life would have been with him! Raising your child together, loving each other, looking into each other’s eyes, watching your skin sag and wrinkle; growing old, but your love never lessening.

It was ironic that every day felt like an eon with Taehyung. You were in constant tension around him, like an elastic band stretched to its maximum limit. Even his slightest moves made you nervous. If he reached over for salt, you were left trembling. If he walked out of the shower in his boxers, your heart raced. Everything about him kept you on edge, scared that he would pounce on you without a moment’s notice.

Things came to a head the next Tuesday. You were getting ready to go out for your doctor’s appointment. Taehyung emerged from the shower, rubbing the towel against his wet hair as he walked to the closet mirrors, standing next to you.

His studied your yellow floral dress, only the slightest hint of belly was proof that another human was growing inside you. A tight thread of jealousy snapped inside Taehyung. Yoongi had made love to you, cummed in you, leaving you pregnant. He fumed in jealousy, getting into his pants and picking out his shirt.

He was adjusting his tie when he saw you swirl the tube of lip balm. The same brand you had used for years, lending that delicious glossy sheen on your lips that kept haunting him in his dreams. His tie was left forgotten, and he reached his hand out to gently pull you closer. The sudden rigidity of your body reminded him of a startled kitten.

“What, babe?” He crooned, drawing you nearer. “Go on, wear it.”

When you didn’t comply, he plucked the tube out of your fingers, smearing a glossy coat of lip balm on your lips. He could see the visible heaving of your chest as you struggled to maintain your composure.

Pinning you with your back against the closet mirror, he dipped his head to ghost his breath over your lips. The fruity smell made him go crazy.

Without warning, his tongue licked a hot trail over your upper lip, following the natural curve of your cupid’s bow. He smacked his lips, groaning in lust, and went in to savor your lower lip too.

“Your lips look better with my saliva, baby,” he murmured, gently nibbling on your lips and sucking on the plump soft flesh.

He was heady with need, nibbling harder and pushing himself closer against you. When you tried pushing against his chest, he got mad.

“How long do you think I’ll wait? Huh?” His voice was thick in a mix of anger and want. “Think I’d just fuck my hand forever?”

Your throat felt hollow and itchy when you voiced out:

“I don’t want to-“

His face crumpled in anger.

“Well, too bad, because I want to.”

Still in his pants, he thrust his clothed crotch into your pelvis, the floral skirt allowing him to feel the mound between your legs. He used his knee to keep your legs spread, while he went on thrusting against you. The friction made him curse out loud. One of his hands sneaked to catch hold of your throat, and he nestled his forehead against your shoulder blade, never stopping his thrusts.

His moans grew louder, quicker, and more intense. He bit the soft skin on your shoulder as he reached his climax. He panted in your ear, deep breaths reverberating through his body. With a heavy moan, he licked the bite mark and straightened his back, watching you warily.

Your eyes were closed, face frozen and impassive.

He hadn’t been able to control himself. When he thought about it, he hadn’t even touched his dick once, and yet his seed was all over his underwear. That was how much you affected him.

When he pushed off of you, you still hadn’t opened your eyes.

“Thought I’d change,” he drawled lazily, biting his lip. “But on second thought, I’ll go to work in my creamed pants. It’ll remind me of you all day.”

A drop of salty water rolled down your closed lid.

There were only sounds of him moving around, grabbing his phone, keys and stuff, and then silence.

He hadn’t even touched a button on your dress. But you had never felt so open and vulnerable in your entire life.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Taehyung was in a serious discussion with his board when the intercom rang. He threw an angry glance at Na Yeon, who bowed so deep he could see her cleavage clear as day.

She hurried to answer, looking at him beseechingly.

Taehyung did not like his meetings interrupted. Calls were always screened while he was in discussion. Only an important person or an important matter could bypass the screening.

“What?”

“I am to put it on speakerphone,” Na Yeon replied meekly.

“Do it then.” He was losing his patience.

“Kim Taehyung, you fucking son of a bitch!”

Everyone in the boardroom was startled, looking at each other in panic.

“How dare you take advantage of me like that? You insufferable, disgusting prick!”

Taehyung leaned back in his chair, playing with his pen.

“You miserable bag of shit, I swear I’ll cut your balls off!”

Taehyung drummed his knuckles on the desk, waiting for the tirade to stop.

“You are the vilest asshole on earth!”

The line went dead, and a stunned silence prevailed in the room. Taehyung rose again, going back to the whiteboard. He huffed at the mute people staring at him. He didn’t lose an ounce of his cool.

“So, let’s pick up where we left off…”

After everyone left, Na Yeon stayed back to apologize. Taehyung noticed that there was a beauty mark on her chest, right near the button of her blouse. Well, it wouldn’t have been visible if she had buttoned up her blouse. Maybe she felt sexy. Whatever. He didn’t really care.

“I’m sorry about the phone call, Mr. Kim.”

“It was nothing.” He shrugged it off, he wasn’t very bothered.

She continued unmindful of his disinterest.

“I should have tried to cut the call, I shall screen her next-“

His features suddenly flashed with annoyance.

“She is my wife. She should never be screened. Besides, she has every right to yell at me.” He sneered at Na Yeon as he bit out his words. “You don’t have any right to cut my wife’s call.”

With that, he stormed out of the boardroom, leaving his secretary shocked into silence.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

That evening, when Taehyung returned home, you were in the sitting room, legs crossed. Your mouth was set in a straight line. You were giving off a stubborn aura, and Taehyung fought the smile that threatened to curl his lips up.

“Aren’t you gonna kiss your husband, Mrs. Kim?”

The hot glare didn’t alarm him in the least.

He loosened his tie, sighing in that deep voice of his. It made the hair on your arms stand up. He settled down on the couch, just next to you.

“I enjoyed the telephonic love note today,” he said, fiddling with his cufflinks. He proceeded to unbuckle his belt.

“Especially because my pants were crusted with cum.” He threw his belt on the floor. “Thanks to you.”

You jumped to your feet, wagging a finger at him, screeching in mutiny.

“Don’t ever do that again, you scumbag.”

“Why not?” Mock surprise danced on his face. “Didn’t you agree to marry me?”

“I didn’t agree to be violated, Kim Taehyung.”

He puffed out his cheeks, disinterested.

“You didn’t leave me any other choice.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. Did he expect you to jump on his lap and love him? After he snatched everything you loved away from you? Was he insane?

You threw your arms up, scoffing incredulously.

“How on Earth do you think I’ll ever love you?” The very idea made you gag. “After you killed my husband? Do you have no regret?”

He scanned his fingernails, pouting his lips in mock hurt. His voice was soft.

“I didn’t kill him on my own.”

“What?” The tic on your mouth made your face twitch. “What the fuck are you saying?”

He lifted his eyes to meet yours.

“Everything I did was because I loved you. For you.”

You stared at him, no words coming to mind. You had been sure that you were only the spoils of the war between his family and Yoongi’s. You didn’t believe for one second that Taehyung loved you.

“When you think about it, the reason I killed him was you.”

Your jaw dropped. The sputtering of your mouth made it impossible to frame comprehensible words.

“Me?”

“Mmhmm. In a sense, you killed Yoongi.”

No, no. this wasn’t happening. You had never done anything to hurt Yoongi. He was your love, your precious baby. No, Taehyung was babbling nonsense.

“Shut up,” you whispered, voice shaking.

He smirked at you.

“Think, baby. He wouldn’t have died if you had said ‘Yes’ when I asked you nicely.”

Memories of that fateful day at his office, clad in pajamas and feeling his bulge pressing against you came tumbling back.

It was a struggle to find your voice. “No.”

“Accept that you killed him, Y/N.”

Your vision blurred with tears and you repeated again, “No.”

A shit-eating grin spread on his face. He unzipped himself, sliding into a more comfortable position.

“Would you rather say you killed him or suck my cock?”

The first drop rolled down your cheek, and he repeated his question, voice darker and laced with lust.

You grasped for words. “Don’t do this to me.”

Your plea made him impatient. He wanted the cold war to end already. How long were you going to mourn Yoongi? He didn’t really want to fuck you when you were heavy with that man’s child.

“Either suck my cock or admit that Min died because of you.”

He waited with bated breath, observing the whirlpool of emotions flashing on your face. And then, to his utter delight, you wordlessly sank to your knees.

He unzipped his pants, giddy with excitement. Your face was devoid of emotion. The tears had stopped, leaving stains on both your cheeks. He waited for you to reach and touch him. When it didn’t happen, he lifted his hips off the couch, annoyed.

“My cock isn’t gonna pop into your mouth on its own, babygirl.”

Nothing.

He reached out and grabbed your head, pulling you in so your nose was against his clothed dick. He felt like he would burst at the feeling. He moaned out as he rubbed your face against him, the groans coming out harsh and strained.

He couldn’t wait for you to take him out, so he fished himself out of his boxers, grazing the tip against your lips. The blunt disgust on your face only made him even hornier, and he coated all his pre-cum onto your lips.

“Fuck, Y/N, my cum looks better on you than my saliva does.”

He pressed the sides of your jaw to pucker your mouth open, placing himself inside your warm mouth.

“Go on, baby. Suck.”

He caught your eyes and added in a dangerous tone, “Don’t you dare bite, I’ll fucking kick that bastard to death.” He looked ominously at your belly. He knew your sore point.

Swallowing your pride, you let his muscle glide in and out of your mouth.

“That’s not sucking, babygirl.”

Your spat at him in fury. “Fucking suck yourself.”

He made as if to kick your midsection, and you screamed in alarm. The tips of his toes made slight contact with your ribs and you yelled for him to stop.

“Stop it, stop it, don’t,” you never wanted to sob in front of him, but it just happened out of your control.

“Well, suck it then. And don’t close your eyes.”

You worked on him robotically, trying to trample down the sick guilt that rose up in your chest with each bob.

He groaned and growled, cursing at the sensation of your velvety tongue. He wouldn’t mind if he died and went to heaven. Before he even knew it, he was close to his release. He panted out, cumming hard into your mouth.

You remained in position, not attempting to swallow. He knew you were going to spit it out as soon as you humanly could. His fingers closed around your neck.

“Swallow. Now.”

The pressure slowly increased, threatening to choke you. Your delirious brain conjured a coroner’s report. Cause of death: Choking on cum.

Reflexively, your body fought by opening and closing your pharynx, effectively making you swallow his slimy essence.

Taehyung felt the bob of your throat, his chest puffing up with pride. He lifted you up gently, holding onto the nape of your neck. He gazed at your glistening cupid’s bow, and slowly pressed his lips on yours.

He had never seen your naked breasts, but that could wait. He was already swimming in rabid delight.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“Thank you for agreeing to do this interview, Mr. Kim,” the man said, setting up his notepad and pen.

Taehyung grunted in answer. His mind was somewhere else. He had been in a fight with you over names. He had wanted you to officially change your family name. But you had refused. He hated the Min that rang along with your name. It made him want to puke when someone ever addressed you that way.

“I will not change my name,” you had said, stubbornly set in defiance.

He adored your stubborn trait, but when it came to matters involving that damned Min Yoongi, he hated your obstinacy.

“You fucking will.”

“Make me.” You had folded your hands, indicating that you would not be swayed.

Taehyung was at his office, thinking of ways to coerce you into taking his name. That was when the reporter arrived for a quick interview.

The man started off with questions about Taehyung’s business, his financial turn over and assorted boring stuff, which he answered robotically.

Out of nowhere, the question popped up, making him raise his eyebrows mildly.

“Is it true that Mr. Min and you were friends?”

Taehyung shrugged his shoulders carelessly.

“Of course, we were.”

“But, Mr. Kim, a lot of people expressed surprise at your claim of being friends with him.”

“People like who?”

“People who thought you married Mrs. Min a bit too soon.”

Taehyung snapped in annoyance: “She’s Mrs. Kim now.”

“Exactly my point, Mr. Kim.”

Maybe you would consider changing your name if he compromised. But how?

“Well, Mr. Kim?”

“Huh?” Taehyung had a hard time not thinking of you. “I wanted to help her out, especially after he deserted her, while she was pregnant.”

“How did you know she was pregnant? You testified in court that you didn’t know her too well.” The man leaned forward eagerly. “How did she consent to marry you so soon?”

Taehyung could smell a bait from a mile away. The man wasn’t interested in him after all. He was scoping out facts about you.

“What is it that you want?”

His tone made it clear that he knew what was going on. The man cut to the chase abruptly.

“Did you kill Mr. Min?”

Taehyung swiveled on his chair, taking his sweet time.

“Yes. I killed him.”

The abrupt admittance started his opponent, making him open and close his mouth like a goldfish. When he saw how flustered the man was, Taehyung continued:

“You got your answer, what more do you want to know?”

“But- but why did you –” the man was bewildered. “Mrs. Min, she was on trial, you testified against her.”

“Yes, I did.”

“She could have gone to prison.”

“Right again. Don’t beat around the bush.”

“Was it-” the man swallowed, “-an affair? Did you both plot to kill Mr. Min?”

Taehyung laughed. How he wished that had been the case. He would have been spared a lot of trouble if that were true.

The man wiped his forehead nervously.

“What are you laughing about?”

“Nothing, I’m just imagining how your head would look like on a stake.” Taehyung smiled fondly. “You know, my children would happily play with it.”

Children. Name. Maybe he could compromise on that bastard child’s name? Would that make you think again?

Taehyung’s attention snapped back to watch the man gulp several times, obviously shaken.

“So, did you get the answers you wanted?” He exhaled lightly, adding, “My secretary has your name and contact details, my men would pay you a friendly visit if you blabbered anything anywhere.”

“I- yes, I understand.” The man got up in a hurry. “Please excuse me.”

── ⋆✩⋆ ──

When the reporter left the building, his phone vibrated with a message.

‘Any news?’

He called the sender.

“There’s nothing to report. I’m pretty sure neither Mr. Kim nor Y/N had anything to do with Mr. Min’s disappearance.”

The call ended, and Namjoon sighed. He knew something had happened. Something had gone wrong.

But the reporter couldn’t glean anything from Taehyung. The seeds of doubt took root in his mind. Was it possible that he had imagined the conspiracy? What if there had been no conspiracy and Yoongi really had fled?

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“I have a proposal.”

You looked up from your curled kitten position on the deckchair, overlooking the pool. You were cross that Taehyung had interrupted your attempt at sketching Yoongi.

“Not interested.”

He pranced forward, plucking the sketchbook and tossing it away. The splash of it hitting the water sent droplets flying up and raining on your feet.

“What the hell d’you do that for?”

The reflection of the sun in the ripples of the pool made his face light up and sparkle. He placed both his hands on the armrests, trapping you.

“You will take my name.”

“Forget it.”

“In return,” he whispered softly, “You get to name your baby whatever the fuck you want.”

“I am the mother and I don’t need you to offer me what’s already my right.”

He butted your forehead with his own, clucking his tongue in impatience.

“You really don’t want your baby to see the light of day, do you?”

The scowl on your face was reflexive. It was a bother that he always used your baby as an excuse to get his way.

“Fuck off, Taehyung.”

He threw himself bodily on you, willing a strangled gasp to escape your lips. He spread your arms and upper body to align them with the chair, opening your torso up to him. He was already panting, cursing out as he spread your legs with his knee.

“C’mon now, babygirl, stop being so stubborn.”

He sunk his whole weight onto you, crushing your body underneath him.

The graphite pencil you had been using to sketch was still in your fingers. Mustering up all your strength, you dove it into the back of his neck.

He hissed in pain, jerking involuntarily and pulling the pencil off your grasp. When you struggled to let it go, he placed a well-aimed slap on your cheek, making you freeze in shock.

“You little brat,” he spat out, still pissed about his neck. His palms made contact with your cheeks twice more, sending your face jerking left and right.

“I’ll teach you to stab me, you little-“

He bunched both your hands by the wrist, holding them up above your head. His other hand sneaked between your legs, pushing your thighs apart.  When you tried to wriggle and throw him off, his knee dug into your midsection.

“Want to destroy what we have?” He sunk his knee a little deeper. “Huh, sugar?”

His finger was rubbing circles on your core, making you bite your lips from moaning out.

“Fuck, I’m permanently hard around you.”

His hard length was obvious in the tent of his pants. But as before, he humped against you, not unzipping himself. The friction was making him go wild. He thrust his hips into yours, the knee remaining ominously on your navel.

“Ah ssibal,” he cursed, throwing his head back, consequently making his long dark hair flip and reveal his glistening forehead.

“Oh… Oh.. I’m cumming,” he breathed out, spasming violently all over you, digging himself out of you and spilling his cum all over your clothed belly.

“Ew, Taehyung, you bitch, you’re fucking disgusting,” you screamed, pushing against his chest even as he shuddered in the aftermath of his orgasm. He smiled dumbly, panting out in ragged breaths. He placed his mouth near your ear, tickling your earlobe with his hot breath.

“I want to cum inside you.”

He sighed deeply as if he was thinking quietly about it, before adding:

“Soon.”

He pushed off you, grinning as he ruffled his hair back into place. Whistling softly, he walked away, leaving you trembling in a mix of shock and anger, looking down at your ruined dress.

He had cummed exactly on your belly, like he had carefully meant to.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

The annual costume ball invitations reached your house, one addressed to Mr. Kim and one addressed to Mrs. Min. Taehyung had torn the envelope into pieces before handing you the card. It was probably a snide attempt to snub Taehyung and you knew that it had worked, judging from the annoyance on his face. You wondered if the hosts had intended to send you late invitations, because the ball was slated to happen that night.

You threw it on the coffee table, not caring in the least about some stupid party. But Taehyung had other ideas.

“We’re going tonight. Get ready.”

If the stuck-up Min empaths thought they had made a statement by sending two fucking invitations, they would have to think again. He would show them what fools they were. You were his Mrs. Kim.

The burgundy dress had a cowl neckline, which he absolutely loved. He had picked it out carefully, mind giddy with excitement on how perfect it would look on you. Finally, a day had come for the glamorous dress to do you justice, flattering your body, much to the envy of those losers.

“Wear the burgundy dress I bought you. And the studded heels.”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He opened his closet, apparently searching for something. When he turned, a classic Tiffany box was nestled in his palm. He opened it, and a sparkling silvery bracelet was reflected in your eyes, lending them a beautiful twinkle that made his heart sing.

Delicately, he placed it on the dresser.

“This will compliment you.”

He stood silent for a second, thinking if you would wear it on your own. Something told him you would just leave it sitting on the dresser forever.

“Here,” he took your hand in his, gently placing the bracelet on your wrist. He clasped it and admired the way it looked even more beautiful on you. To him, each fiber of your being was infinitely more precious than the rarest diamonds in the world.

He had never seen anyone more beautiful, and he wished not to. When you descended the porch steps, he felt like a footman taking out a princess on her ride. He was mesmerized by the simple yet graceful features that taunted him, inviting him in.

Taehyung had Wo Bin drive you both to the ball. Taehyung handed you a sparkling rhinestone mask, the wings around the eyes rising gracefully in showers of gemstones. The costume ball was essentially a masquerade, and he had gotten the best masks he could lay his hands on.

“Take my hand, remember, no silly behavior.” He briefly glanced at your belly, driving home his point.

“Stop fucking threatening me all the time, bitch,” you hissed, scowling when he responded with a lazy grin.

The entire ballroom was abuzz with people clad in their best clothes, complete with masks of every color, style, and material. Taehyung’s chest was stretched to the max with pride as he waltzed through the floors with the most beautiful woman that night on his arm.

A couple hours later, you were weary to the bone. “I’m tired, I wanna throw up.”

He rolled his masked eyes. “Right. Stay here, I’ll get you water.”

He turned around as an afterthought. “Want me to walk you to a bathroom?”

You shook your head, indicating you were fine enough to just sit.

“ ’Kay.”

He went off, leaving you seated in a comfortable chair.

He was, however, interrupted mid-way by a woman dressed in a jade green dress with a deep neckline that left almost nothing to the imagination. The Venetian mask lent an air of mystery to her ombre eyes.

“Mr. Kim,” her voice was hauntingly thick with desire.

She placed her index finger delicately against his tux, poking him. “I’ve been fantasizing about you for years.”

He couldn’t form a coherent comeback. He was a man who prided on never being tongue-tied while facing a woman. But the simple statement had such force that it knocked his thoughts out like bowling pins.

“Uh, excuse me, I have to-“

She traced her fingers on his arm, patting him slowly, whispering:

“Please stay.”

He couldn’t believe how tongue-tied he was. He flashed his left hand at her, declaring in a harsh tone:

“I’m sorry but I’m married. Very happily so.”

“Is that true, though?” Her voice dropped even lower. “You are married, yes, but have you been loved back? Why pine after a hopeless fruit while another aches for you?”

He shook his hand free, annoyed. Very much annoyed that she was stating the bitter truth that his heart refused to believe.

“Excuse me, I have to go back to my wife.”

“Maybe you could at least dance with me once?”

His jaw tightened.

“No, thank you.”

She pouted her crimson lips, sadness clouding her eyes.

“I thought so.” She touched his elbow with a smooth “At least a peck on the cheek for your admirer?”

He bent his neck, intrigued by the strange woman, but she took him by surprise, going instead for his lips.

Her tongue snuck out and outlined the curve of his upper lip before her mouth pressed against his. Startled, he took a step back and his gaze dropped to the cleavage she was generously offering. She giggled naughtily, winking at him. Damn the woman.

The hot feeling in his cheeks didn’t go away for a good five minutes, and he was still pink when he returned with the glass of water he had set out to get.

He frowned when he saw a tall man talking to you, bending in half to address you.

“You, you are just a gold-digging bitch, you whore,” the masked man was saying, just as Taehyung materialized behind him.

“Excuse the fuck, did you just fucking insult my wife?”

The man straightened up, turning to glare at Taehyung. His mask did nothing to hide who he was. The hooded eyes, the tall lithe frame, the rich timbre of voice, all screamed Kim Namjoon.

He dug his hands into his pockets, staring at Taehyung with menace.

“Yes, I called her out for jumping on another dick as soon as she could.” He focused his most hostile leer at Taehyung before adding “The dick being attached to you of all people.” He didn’t stop, spewing more hate as he addressed you:

“Are you sure the baby is Yoongi’s, Y/N? Did he ever know what a cunt you are?”

The anger was so hot that Taehyung felt like his brain would short circuit. He balled his fists, ready to shatter the mouth that had spoken so ill of you.

Before he could do any damage though, you grabbed hold of his hand, tugging at him harshly.

“Take me home, I feel sick.”

He sent Namjoon one withering glance and exhaled angrily. Namjoon would pay later. He would make sure of it. He guided you out, practically shaking in fury. He texted Wo Bin to meet both of you on the porch. He was zoned out, and you asked something that just flew out his ear. When you slapped his elbow, he caught your words just in time.

“Is that lipstick on your mouth?”

Taehyung creased his eyebrows, turning back to consider something. The masked woman, she had licked his mouth before kissing. It was a kink of his to lick your lips. How did she know that he loved doing that to you?

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

The way Namjoon had spoken to you felt like a cold slap to the face. If that was what he thought, was that what everyone else thought of you too? The whole social circle of which you and Taehyung were a small intersecting arc, did it think you were a gold-digger too?

The shame enveloped and consumed you, the flames of hatred licking at your heart. Your entire life was ruined by Taehyung. Only he was responsible for all the mess. Everyone seemed to focus only on you. He was in the background like an innocent bystander; but all the while, he was the puppeteer who pulled all the strings, bending everything to his will.

A bitter cold war was brewing between you and him, growing in intensity by the second. You had avoided him for days, slipping like an eel whenever his footsteps sounded. Every night, you slept on the couch, only to wake up on your side of the bed in the morning.

It was hard to sleep. Because you were constantly worried that he would violate you while you were sleeping.

You didn’t know that Taehyung spent three-quarters of the night perched on the steps of the staircase, waiting for you to drift to sleep. He silently swooped in and carried you to bed each night, making sure to tuck you in comfortably.

A few weeks later, you dressed up in a loose black hoodie and attempted to sneak out for a walk. But just as always, he caught you. He had casually blocked you with an outstretched hand, looking at you oddly.

“What the heck are you wearing?”

You tried to force your way out, but man was he strong.

“Get out of my way, Taehyung.”

He blew out his cheeks, shaking his head in disapproval.

“That hoodie is the opposite of flattering on you, honey.”

Curling your fists, you hit him on his arm, trying to make him move.

“I don’t care, so let me go,” you hissed at him.

“I care about my wife’s fashion choices,” he replied, reaching out to grab the hoodie. But just as quickly, he drew his hand back in shock.

“What the…” he whispered, horrified, reaching his hand out again.

His fingers gingerly pressed against your belly, feeling the small bump that was evident to the touch. He started back in horror. It really was growing. The reality hit him like a harsh slap. Min’s child was really growing inside you.

In one swift motion, he gathered you up in his arms, deciding that he couldn’t waste any more time. He couldn’t wait forever.

Dragging you upstairs to the bedroom, he led you to stand by the bed. His face was ablaze with hot emotion, his dark eyes gleaming with fiery hunger. He shrugged his suit off in haste. Long slender fingers gripped your hoodie, lifting it up to reveal the soft protrusion he had touched earlier. He looked panicked, like a guy who had missed the last airplane bound home.

“I can’t wait any longer,” he breathed, gently trying to undress you. “Forgive me, I am out of time.”

He pressed kisses on the side of your neck, lifting the hoodie up inch by inch until the cups of your bra were visible.

“Oh, Y/N, I-“ his voice was strangled, “- I can’t,” his hands found purchase at the small of your back. “I can’t take you when you are ripe with his child, I can’t wait that long.”

He eased you out of the hoodie, holding your hands to prevent you from covering your bra-clad breasts. He had only entered you once, he hadn’t forced himself into you since the day Yoongi died.

It had been his desire to wait for you to want him. But nature always liked complicating things. He couldn’t bear to think that you would be heavy with child in a few months, and would be busily occupied with the baby for months after that. No, he had no choice.

He was sliding your pants off when you half-choked out: “You could just… let me go.”

The wetness of your cheeks broke his heart. But your words had hurt him more.

“No. No, I can’t. You are all I have.”

“You know that’s not true,” you whispered.

The pained look returned to his face.

“No. It should have been me.” He gestured to your belly. “That should have been mine.” A tear rolled down his cheek, and he sniffed. “It should have always been me.”

“Taehyung- “

His lashes were moist and he shook his head, not wanting to listen.

“You were meant to be mine. Don’t you see?” His haunted eyes were tender, his raw feelings on display just for you.

“Do you- do you even like me?”

You remained silent, nothing but underwear bridging the gap between you and nakedness. His face contorted in pain.

He shuddered and shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, pulling both your hands above your head and pinning them in position. His other hand gingerly traced the outline of your bra. He licked his lips, looking into your eyes as he dipped a finger between your breasts, running it along the elastic strap and leaving your skin riddled with goosebumps.

His finger continued running down your midriff, stopping at your belly button. He closed his eyes and pretended that the bump didn’t exist, hurrying to slip his hand into your undies. It fanned his ego to feel your wet folds.

“See, your body likes it, hm? Why do you rebel so much?”

He leaned down to sniff your hair, greedily inhaling the scent like a man dying of thirst. He removed the hand pinning yours with a warning squeeze. Just as quickly, his hands flew to your breasts. His touch was ever so tender. He gently kneaded the soft flesh, moaning out as a little bit of areola peeked out of your bra. The self-control snapped, and he pulled the cups down, exposing your squished breasts.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he sounded so raspy, “Fuck, you’re so goddamn beautiful.”

Like a man in a trance, he dipped his head in the valley of your chest, nestling there, letting out the weakest of whimpers. His fingers worked feverishly to get the damn bra off you. He threw it across the room, burying his head in your bosom with a contented sigh.

There was a stark contrast between you and him. He was fully clothed, and you were in only your undies, entire chest open to his view. It led you to feel even more weak and vulnerable. When your hand tried to shield your breast though, he caught it, his voice came out from between your soft mounds in a muffled whisper:

“Don’t.”

He gathered both your breasts in his hands, moaning thickly as he rubbed his face against them. His tongue found your nipple, giving tentative licks before full-on sucking on the nub. He was a passionate man, and your breasts were glistening with saliva by the time he was done worshipping them. His mouth let go of the nipple with a soft plop, the dark eyes focused on your own the whole time.

His tongue drew a line from the middle of your ribs down to your navel. He paused at the elastic band of your undies, working on tugging it down. But impatience got the better of him, and he cursed, ripping the fabric easily as if it were the weakest of paper. He touched the wet patch on the crotch and looked at you, dangling the ruined fabric above your forehead.

“See. Y/N? See how wet you are for me?”

You didn’t reply. He gripped your chin, yanking it so his breath fell directly on your mouth.

“Kiss me, Y/N.”

When you didn’t attempt to kiss him, he straddled your hips, crashing his mouth down on yours. But the kiss wasn’t passionate, nor was it anywhere near romantic. You just wouldn’t open your mouth and let his tongue in. He could have kissed a pole and gotten a better reaction than yours.

It kindled the embers of rage in his heart, and he undid his tie, tying it around your neck like a noose. His shirt and pants were still on, and he rolled the long end of the tie until the fabric started tightening around your neck.

“Up,” he said, tugging the tie and making your head rise from the bed a bit. Holding onto it like a leash, he pulled your upper body was hovering precariously above the bed, both your hands holding onto his shoulders lest you fall and snap your neck.

“Now,” he hissed, “Lick my tongue”

The tie-noose tightened around your neck, threatening to cut off your airflow. You hoisted yourself up, shaking as your sight started to blur.

“Can’t” you heaved, “breathe.”

The fabric didn’t relax one bit.

“Hurry up and lick my tongue then.”

You blindly slashed at the air to find his mouth. Right on the verge of blacking out, you thrust yourself at him, begging entry into his mouth with desperate licks. Once you felt the hot muscle, you lapped at it, and just as quickly, the tightness eased, making you gulp mouthfuls of him, your body struggling to get your respiration back to normal.

“You bast-“

He thrust himself at you again, muttering:

“Shh. Lick me again,” and dipping his tongue into your mouth.

He moaned, chest vibrating against yours with the intensity of his strangled groans. When he broke the kiss, a string of saliva connected your mouth to his, a big bead hanging in the middle, the weight making it drop and splotch on your thigh.

He leaned back working on his shirt buttons. They didn’t open fast enough, and he started ripping the buttons off, eyes locked on your nipples. When he tore the fabric away from his body, his whole wide chest was naked, save for a thin chain around his neck. It had what looked like a silver key for a pendant, you weren’t sure as it kept dangling with his every move.

He remained in his pants, gathering your body and pressing you against his chest. A strained moan escaped his lips, and he trailed kisses down your neck, past your shoulder blade. His tongue flicked out to reach places his lips couldn’t.

One hand cupped the slight hint of your bump, prodding gently but also warning you against doing anything stupid. He pulled your hand towards his crotch, placing it on his clothed bulge.

“See,” he moaned, “See what you do to me?”

He stroked his bulge with your hand, fighting the urge to close his eyelids and lose himself in bliss. He had been hard for so long. Too fucking long.

“Take me out.”

His whisper sent a shiver up your spine. But you didn’t move. You didn’t have a choice to stop it. But you had the choice to not comply.

He cursed, too impatient to reprimand you. He unzipped his pants, leading your hand to his hard dick. He closed his hand over yours, effectively jerking himself off with your hand.

“Fuck, baby, that’s it,” he threw his head back, snapping his eyes open just as quickly when you gripped his dick too tight. Intentionally, of course.

“What the fuck?” He pushed you onto your back, dragging you by the legs into position. All the tenderness had evaporated from his countenance.

“You really want to screw this?” He hovered his body over yours, menace evident in the curl of his lips. The squirming pissed him, and a swift slap landed on your cheek, accompanied by an angry “Fucking behave, Y/N.”

“Get off me,” you bit out, aware of the drool sliding down your chin.

“No,” he said, humping his dick against your pelvis. “You are mine. Don’t fight this. He’s not coming back. He’s dead.”

He saw the tears kindling, and added cruelly:

“Because of you.”

“Stop saying that,” you screamed, trying to knee him in the groin. But he only laughed.

“You always complicate things, Y/N. I only want to make love to you.” He sighed innocently. “But you just make it so difficult.”

His forearm dug into your neck, preventing your head from moving. His other hand snaked down to your soaked clit, rubbing circles on your sensitive pearl.

“Who was always a bitch in heat for Min’s dick, huh?”

The question left you speechless. He smirked.

“Who loved to ride his thigh and get her ass spanked?”

“Shut up, shut up.” you couldn’t think of any other reply. How did he know all of that?

He simply shrugged.

“Okay, sure. I’d rather fuck you than talk about your dead man.”

He really wanted to eat you out. But he knew you would kick him in the face if he tried to. Maybe he should get restraints before trying that. Besides, his dick was already aching with being hard for so long. He slid his pants off completely, getting in position, aligning himself with your entrance.

He placed his forearm against your belly, deciding it gave him better leverage that way. Looking down, he inched himself forward, watching in fascination as he disappeared into you, your bodies becoming one. Just like they had always been meant to be.

The silky walls were tight around him, and he held on for dear life. You were going to be the death of him.

“Fuck, ah, fuck,” his breath constricted, the finality of actually being inside your velvety folds driving him crazy in exhilaration. He set a fast pace, snapping his hips into yours as if his life depended on it.

“Tell me how it feels, baby,” he cooed, “to know you killed Yoongi for this cock.”

Your whole face burned in rage.

“No, you tell me, how it feels to know you killed a good man for a piece of pussy.”

He chortled, not slowing down in the least.

“Awesome, really,” he panted out, licking his lips as he kept thrusting. “I can kill a whole army for this pussy.” He was not ready yet to say ‘It’s not just your body, it’s you I want. The whole you.’

He pulled the tie around your neck, telling you to get on all fours.

“I can’t dumbfuck, I’m pregnant,” you spat out.

He simply flipped you over, crossing both your hands over your chest so you were kneeling on the bed, with his hands pressing your wrists against your breasts.

“Shit, baby, how are you so tight? Guess he never filled you like I do, huh?”

His tongue licked the back of your ears as he kept thrusting. You were doing your best to not make any sound. You didn’t want to give him that satisfaction.

“Tell me,” he panted, driving himself deeper, “Tell me I’m bigger than him.”

His finger slipped into the tie-noose, twisting the knot.

“Say it.”

You were sure he wouldn’t stop. Panic flooded your body, jumping into escape mode.

“Fine, you’re bigger.”

A dark chuckle rang throughout his chest, making your breasts bounce as aftermath.

“Be more specific, baby. Describe it.”

There was another tight twist, and you gave up.

“Your dick, it’ bigger, it’s- Fuck, I can’t breathe- It’s thicker, it’s longer, okay?”

He smiled into your skin. Gently loosening the tie, he kissed the light welts around your neck.

“Let me hear it again.”

“You’re bigger than him,” you repeated in defeat.

“Fuck yeah, that’s my girl. Cum around me, baby.”

His groans were loud and animalistic, like those of a man possessed. His pounding got frantic, rattling the headboard and eliciting curses from your parched throat.

God, how he wanted to fuck Min’s spawn out of you and fuck his seed into you instead! The thought sent him spinning into his climax, releasing hot ropes of cum into your tight walls. The growls from his chest chilled your blood. He held you incredibly tight against him, riding his wave out, clutching onto your ribs in passion.

The shivering sigh blew against your ears, and he gently pulled out, kissing down your shoulders and back as he did so. Your knees gave out, sending you collapsing down, but his hands caught you just in time.

When he had finished prodding and poking his fingers in your clit to feel his cum, he uttered in a ghost of a whisper:

“You cummed for me, baby.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Were you ready to kill Taehyung? To be frank, you didn’t really know. It was an idea that had crossed your mind millions of times. But taking another life was too horrible to even comprehend. On the other hand, it was a fact that he would continue to make your life hell.

It was a difficult decision, but one you had to face. Were you doomed to live forever with him? Take all his obsessed declarations of love for you? Live in constant fear that he would hurt your child?

Was it worth killing a human for peace? You looked down at your baby bump. He was going to be a terrible father to your baby. The orange canister by the lawn was just alluring. Was all the solution you ever needed in a can of garden pesticide?

The throbbing of your heart was so loud you were sure the guard could hear it. But now you were not just any woman. You were his boss’s wife. Hell, every guard in the fucking house addressed you respectfully.

“Mrs. Kim?” The man stepped towards you with a question on his eyebrows.

“I want the lawn to myself for some time.”

Usually, there were no guards by the pool. Taehyung would pluck their eyes out if any of them snuck up on you while swimming. But the lawn was a different story. There were a lot of guys walking around with guns. It surprised you to see them file out of the lawn like a bunch of disciplined kids.

But you knew their focus would be on you anyway. They didn’t serve you, they served Taehyung.

Making an elaborate show of tending to flowers and picking weeds, you loudly muttered at the gardener’s apparent failure to keep the flower beds weeded out. Kneeling down near the orange can, you unscrewed the lid with an air of ignorance.

“Foul smelling shit, what the hell is it?”

The can toppled over your dress, soaking the cotton. Just like you had expected, a man shot out of nowhere, hurrying to your side.

“Are you alright, Mrs. Kim?”

You batted your eyelashes inoocently at him.

“I- yes, I need to change. I think gardening and I don’t mix.”

He accompanied you inside, turning back to leave. Once upstairs, you nervously wrung out the poison from your soaked skirt.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“What’s that?”

Taehyung had asked sooner than you had expected. You feigned surprise at the question, looking over to where his eyes pointed.

“Oh, nothing.”

Much to your chagrin, he nodded and went back to tapping on his phone. What if he didn’t ask again? Well, you could try again later. Patience. You couldn’t get caught.

Getting up slowly, you danced your way to the fridge. You peeked at the contents, closing it with a sigh. Turning to look at the counter, you absently reached for the cup. You were cradling it in your hands, and just as you let your lips touch the rim, he raised his head.

“Coffee?”

You shook your head. “Protein shake.”

He placed his phone on the coffee table, gazing intently at you.

“Well, aren’t you going to drink it?”

“Oh, yes.”

You sipped from the cup, not minding his stare boring into your face. He leaned back, spreading his arms on the sofa. His face was unreadable. When your throat bobbed after the last bit of drink, he raised his eyebrows mildly.

“Done?”

You shrugged your shoulders, without answering. He considered your face for quite some time, before his curiosity got the better of him.

“So, should I call the ambulance?”

You bit back a grin.

“What for? I’m not in labor yet.”

He watched you suspiciously before giving up.

“I know about the pesticide.”

You stifled a yawn. “Of course you do. And?”

He knew you were smart. You were a fighter. There was no way you would drink a cup of poison to get away from him. The poison surely had been intended for him. But he had just watched you down the cup without flinching.

“And,” he said, face serious, “Why don’t you get on with it?”

“What exactly do you mean?”

His passive demeanor broke, leaving his face twisted in vulnerability.

“You want to kill me.” You flinched at the word ‘kill’.

“So, go on and kill me, Y/N.”

Your eyes met, and you reached for a cup wordlessly.

“Not a fresh cup. I want to drink from yours.” He pressed his fingertips together, watching you as you poured out milk. He hated coffee. And you knew. He saw you drop one sugar cube in, just like he liked. The warm flutter in his heart died just as quickly when he saw you reach into the spice cupboard, extracting a pill bottle.

You tipped the bottle and liquid fell out of it, rippling and disappearing in the small white whirlpool of milk. Without a word, your fingers reached for a spoon and stirred the cup. His stare was burning into your skin. Your own heart felt like lead, so heavy and drenched with guilt.

His fingers had a subtle tremor when he reached to accept the cup. Placing it on the coffee table, he smiled at you.

“I love you, Y/N.”

It was a lie, you were sure. He only wanted to ruin Yoongi. He never loved you.

There was nothing to say. You didn’t believe him.

He drew a sharp breath, meditating if he wanted to speak his mind.

“If I die in your hands, your baby and you will be left alone, Y/N. Penniless. But you will get your independence, yes.” He paused, a suspicious watery film glinting under his lashes. “You can be happy and raise your child on your own. But you will return to me in the end.”

The arch of your eyebrows creased your forehead, asking the question your lips failed to.

The smile reached his eyes, a manic shadow casting a fearsome look on his face.

“Whenever, wherever you die, you will be interred in the Kim crypt, just next to me. We will be together even in death.”

The entire breathing mechanism of your body stopped working.

“What? But that’s –“

He flowed on, seemingly uninterrupted.

“And Y/N, the place where Min Yoongi is buried, the secret, it will die with me.”

Without hesitating, he grabbed the handle and drew the cup to his lips. The warm milk touched his lips, the fumes from the poison overwhelming his nose.

#bangtan #bts yandere #yandere bts #bts fanfiction #bts smut #bts taehyung #bts yoongi #bts min yoongi #BTS #yandere kpop #kpop fanfiction #bts kim taehyung #taehyung fanfic #yandere #hard yandere #bangtan fanfic #yandere taehyung #yandere taehyung x reader #bangtan boys #bts fan fic #tae #poison apple #poison apple 2 #PA2 #tw: child maltreatment #tw:violence #tw:abuse

[keanuvibe]

Bodyguard (John Wick x Reader) Pt. 6

A/N: Hi! I return with some good old fashion smut :) I love y’all, thank you so much for supporting this fic honestly.

Words: 4.5k

Warnings: swears, smut

The burning taste of alcohol scorched your throat as it went down. The buzz of an old box TV sat on a shelf near your seat, but it was drowned out by the bar life that hummed around. You didn't bother to take part in socializing; you weren't planning on staying too long, just enough to get drunk and then leave. You couldn't be too hungover anyways, as the gala is tomorrow evening. You only slipped out because you needed time to yourself before the possibility of being murdered by your cousin tomorrow. You didn't understand why your father couldn't just give Santino what he wants, and not put your life on the line. I mean, you did agree to the situation; they gave you the option to say ‘No’.

The past week has been interesting, to say the least. Firstly, you and John slept together. It was everything you’d hoped, and it definitely wasn't expected. Certainly not back when you first met; his handsome figure sitting so proper in the living room. Often, you find yourself thinking back to when you'd first met. He was so quiet, reserved, seemingly collected. Ruggedly handsome and such a mystery as well. That was back when you saw him in nothing but suits. You've fallen so incredibly hard for this man. Someone who you probably wouldn't have glanced at twice on the street. 

Next, the events leading to the gala had begun to cause you anxiety. The possibility of being killed isn't something you want to face. However, your parents are taking heavy precautions. Your mother had you fitted for a dress, tactical in case things went awry. 

Tuesday - 3:45 PM

“Look at you! So stunning.” Your mother cooed, spinning you around so she could see the dress you’d put on. The seamstress stood to the side, arms tucked behind her back and measuring tape around her neck. 

“And the fabric is-”

“Bulletproof up to close range, knife proof, and waterproof.” The seamstress spoke, cheerfully finishing off the sentence. You looked over to her, nodding quietly before looking back at your reflection. The dress fit well, it resembled a fit and flare with a heart shaped top and slit up to the top of your thigh. The design made it easier to move and access hidden weapons, while also looking classy and sexy. It did accentuate your breasts nicely, and the slit for your thigh showed a delicious amount of skin. The curve of the article gave you a nice hourglass shape as well.

“Aspetta che John ti veda in questo.” [‘Wait for John to see you in this.”] Your mother giggled, sitting back onto a small couch. You blushed a deep rouge, scoffing at her comment. 

“What? I know you like him, darling.” She responded to your attitude with a smile, sarcastically rolling her eyes. 

“Mom- I-” You began, but stopped yourself as the seamstress undid the zipper, allowing you to slip out of the article. The woman then took the dress into another room, leaving you and your mother alone. You quickly slipped back into your clothes before turning around to face your mom.

“What, baby?” She questioned, sipping a glass full of champagne. 

“I have something to tell you.” You murmured, sitting next to the woman. You looked up to your mother and she gazed back at you, blinking her long eyelashes. For as long as you could remember, your mother always had her makeup on. In fact, she's always been put together; even at five in the morning. 

“Go on, then.” She waved her hand, encouraging you to continue. Nerves fluttered about your stomach and you shifted in your seat. 

“I-” You stuttered, casting your eyes to your lap. “I think I have a crush on him.” Your mother's hand placed itself onto your shoulder as she scoot closer. 

“I know, la mia bellezza.” Your mother chuckled. “It was easy to tell after a few months.” [‘My beauty.’] She murmured, softly moving some strands of hair that had fallen in your face. The room was quiet, save for a small radio that played classical piano music. 

“I-I don't know what to do.” You paused, “Mom, what if this life isn't for me? I appreciate you let me have the store fronts, but I don’t want them anymore.” You spoke, looking towards the woman. Your mother pushed a glass of champagne into your hand and forced you to sip it. 

“I know you don’t want to be apart of this, really. We gave you those fronts to try to keep you around. The fact Santino dragged you further in… We’re sorry.” The woman murmured, looking down to her lap.

“I’m going to stay, and help you. But afterwards… I’m moving out. I found a place further down in the city. John helped me find it, actually.” You spoke, a little excitement added to your voice. Your mother looked back up, a small grin crossing her lips. She nodded, leaning in and kissing the top of your head softly. 

“I support you. Your father might be harder to convince, however.” The woman answered, setting her glass down.

--

Right. You nearly forgot you told your mom about liking John, and confessing the want to leave. You already put a deposit down anyways. With your father’s money, you can afford to live on your own. He'd put enough away in a savings account, starting when you were just a baby.

 John helped you find the place too, searching the old fashion way; through ads in the paper.

“This one has a lot of natural light.” John held these newspaper for you to see. You grabbed the sheet from his hand and studied the small black and white photos.

“How can you even see that?” You squint, prompting John to chuckle.

“It says it in the description, little one.” He humored, a cheeky grin crossing his face. You blushed, chuckling to play off your embarrassment. 

“There’s plenty of closet space. I could keep a few things there.” He spoke, standing up and adjusting his position to hover over your shoulder. You felt butterflies soar through your stomach at the comment and nodded furiously. 

“Yes, please do.” 

--

On top of all the other stuff, your father gifted you new weaponry;  A pistol set with an ankle strap, and a new set of knives. It felt nice that he cared, but you've never actually been apart of one of your fathers missions before. Sure, you've done some dirty work and left a few bodies behind; however, this mission is different. More dangerous, on top of being risky. 

 The scrape of a bar stool next to your own echoed throughout the space, but you didn't bother to glance at the person. The bartender was quick to take their order before the figure cleared their throat.

“This is the bar we were first introduced. Our fathers had a meeting here.” Santino’s voice chilled you to the bone and you froze, stuck staring into your drink. You heard the light of a match as he lit a cigarette and took a puff, smoke blowing directly into your face. 

“You remember, no?” He then asked. You finally looked up, greeting his smug expression. 

“I do.” You answered, taking a large swing of your whiskey. “Why are you here, Santino?” You finished. 

“May we not speak like civilized humans? We are famiglia after all.” ‘[Family.]’ He answered cooly, taking a puff from his cigarette. You rolled your eyes, gesturing to the bartender for another refill.

“You think no more of us than you do an ant on the street. We are not family; We are merely, devastatingly, blood related.” You spat, facing your cousin fully. He seemed a bit taken aback by your outburst, but quickly shook it off with a laugh and a sip of his own drink. You two fell into silence as you turned back towards your drink. You swirled the dark liquor around before gulping down the liquid. 

“Where's your boy, hm? No play toy tonight?” The man asked after a few moments. You knew he was talking about John. “Do your parents know about your activities?” Anger bubbled deeply in your chest. How did he know that in the first place? You two were very strict about no affection until behind closed doors. 

“I stepped out without him.” You tried to keep the rage under control, taking another hefty sip from your drink. Santino clicked his tongue at your answer. 

“Shame, I’d love to meet the guy whose been killing all my men.” Your cousin murmured. You furrowed your brows, confusion lacing your brain. 

“We've only had a few instances with your fools, what do you mean?” You asked, looking back towards the man. He looked at you, realization crossing his features. A short laugh escaped his mouth.

“You don't know?” He grinned mischievously.

“Tell me.” You demanded, your hand balling into a fist. The obvious amusement radiated off your cousin from your situation. What the hell could he be talking about, and why has John been ‘killing all his men’?

“Your… boyfriend, has been sneaking out at night, cousin. Into my warehouses, slaying the men in his way. I know he's seeking me. John Wick could never touch me.” Santino’s last comment was snarky, cold, and spoken with a deep seeded hatred. You felt shock cross your body upon learning new information. Why hadn't he told you?  He could've been killed and you would've never known. Drunk words were to be had when you get home. 

“Well. That sounds like a problem for you.” You responded. Though you were upset at John for keeping this a secret, you were grateful he'd put such a large dent into Santino’s resources. Your cousin scoffed, finishing off his drink and setting the glass back onto the bar. He threw a twenty dollar bill next to the cup before turning to face you. You watched carefully as he placed his ring-clad hand over your shoulder, leaning closer to your face. 

“See you tomorrow, (Y/N).” He spoke lowly. His hand pat your shoulder a few times before he removed it and exit the bar. Though you didn't look at his face when he’d spoken, the sinister feelings behind it stuck with you; even after he’d already left.

--

Stumbling through your bedroom door, your fingers searched the wall before finding the switch and flipping on the light. You groaned at the brightness, too drunk to be dealing with it. You felt a little dizzy from the dark liquor you'd drank, but managed to walk to your bed, sitting on the edge. With a little effort, you began tugging at the zipper on your dress in an attempt to remove the article. Going to bars used to be fun, you could carelessly get wasted and sleep with some random guy. Now you couldn't leave the house with fears of being killed. 

Stripping off the dress, you sighed, laying back onto your bed and shutting your eyes. A quiet knock on your door triggered a low groan to escape your lips as you sat up, wobbling your way over to the door and tugging it open. Your drunk eyes met the sight of John. He looked down at your figure and raised his brows as the scent of alcohol hit his nostrils.

“Sneaking off on me again?” He questioned, pushing your figure back into the bedroom and shutting the door behind himself. You stumbled back from his minimal force, and whined at him.

“Don't p-push me.” You drunkenly spoke, folding your arms in frustration. “You're the one in trouble h-here! Mr. I’ve Been Sneaking Out To Kill Santino’s Men.

“That's a long name.” John deadpanned. His eyes scanned down your body, causing you to remember you'd stripped off the clothing you had on. 

“Don't change the topic.” You walked past him to get to the bed, bumping his arm on your way. He quickly reached out, grasping your bicep and pulling you up to his chest. You tried your best to let the drunkenness fill you with courage as his dark eyes stared you down. You'd never seen John look at you like this before; angry. 

“I am protecting you.” He whispered lowly and through his teeth, “I’m doing what I have to, to keep you safe.” His eyes traveled down your nearly naked body; goosebumps covered your skin as he did so. You felt like prey to an animal, like a delicious looking gazelle to a lion; a ferocious, dark haired lion. 

“What're you staring at?” You slurred, furrowing your brows. The grip he had on your arm shifted pressures as his mouth collided with your own. The man let go, instead grabbing under your ass and picking you up. He swiftly turned around, tossing you onto the bed with force. You studied his face as he slowly approached your weakened figure, noting how dark his eyes had gotten. You'd made John so mad, he was no longer John. You'd caused John Wick to emerge. 

“Don't move.” He spoke deeply. The sound of his belt buckle echoed throughout the quiet room and John whipped the slim article from his pant loops with a Crack!. The man set the belt into your bed, grabbing your ankles afterwards and pulling your body to the edge of the bed roughly. A little whine escaped your throat as he grabbed your wrists, holding them together above your head before tying the belt around them. 

“You want to act bratty? Like you're the boss?” He questioned, raising his brow and spreading your thighs roughly, “Let me remind you who’s in charge.” John finished. He placed his thumb over your still clothed clit with a firm pressure, rubbing slowly. A moan left your lips and you squirmed your hips at the sensation. His free hand came down quickly, grasping your hip tightly and holding it down so you couldn't move.

“No moving.” He murmured, running his finger along your panty line. The feeling tickled, but you tried your best not to move in fear of his punishment. He hummed in appreciation, gently pushing your underwear to expose your core. He let out a soft groan at the sight, running his pointer finger up your slit, gathering the wetness up. You let out a pathetic whimper as he tapped your clit on the exit. 

“So gorgeous.” John praised, running his hand along the curve of your waist. You felt a blush crawl up your cheeks and turned your face to the side to hide it.

“Look at me.” He commanded, his fingers grasping your chin and moving your head. The man studied your expression. He saw the lust hazing your eyes, the alcohol too. There was another emotion hiding behind the other two; fear. It made him smirk knowing he was back in charge  and he stood straight again, beginning to loosen his tie. You watched as he took the item off and approached your figure. He leaned down, placing the tie over your eyes and quickly knotting it. 

“Can you see?” He asked. You could tell by his voice that he'd moved back to the end of the bed. You shook your head ‘No’ as a response. Johns footsteps padded faintly and you hear him shuffling around before his large hand grasped your ankle. It caused you to jump, not being able to tell when he was going to touch. 

“I won't hurt you.” He murmured, fingertips dragging up your leg. You shuddered at the sensation, your senses heightened at the loss of your sight. Johns fingers shocked you once again, hooking into the hem of your panties and pulling them down. The cool air hit your hot core and you shivered at the temperature shock. 

“I missed you.” He whispered, leaning down. His face sat close to your heat and he gently kissed the skin of your inner thigh. You felt his scratchy facial hair scrape the delicate skin near your pussy. The hotness of his breath coated your clit, and just as he was about to give you what you wanted-

“Please!” You blurted, squirming your hip. The silence was deafening, however John finally spoke up.

“I told you not to move.” You felt chills expose your skin at his comment. The man was swift to move away from your core. He grabbed you and flipped you over so you lay on your stomach instead of your back. His fingertips dragged along the length of your leg, starting at your achilles and ending at the curve of your ass. He gently grasped the flesh, squeezing it before a swift Slap! stang soft skin. You released a short cry at the sensation, whimpering afterwards as the man's hand gently massaged the skin he’d just assaulted. A second slap came down moments after, prompting you to cry out again. The overwhelming sting from the sharp slap tingled across your ass and you let out a defeated whimper. 

John’s large hands ran along your back, meeting the clasp for you bra. In a single swift movement the man had undone the article. The sensation of little kisses littered your back as he made a clear pattern down to your ass. His beard scraped the still raw skin, but the little pain it brought felt good. 

“Are you ready to behave?” He then asked. You nodded, vision still blocked by his tie. You could hear as he moved around again before he gently flipped you back over, pulling you to the edge. The quiet noise of his zipper echoed the quiet room, followed by the drop of an article of clothing. John’s calloused hands found themselves wrapping around your ankles, holding your legs up in the air. The gentle, yet excited, breaths that left his throat sounded throughout the room and you let out a quiet whine. 

“I know baby.” John answered to your plea. He reached his hand down, rubbing your exposed clit with a firm pressure. He gathered your wetness onto his fingers before giving himself a few pumps using the slick. An excited knot formed in your belly at the sensation of his rubbing, prompting you moan softly. His fingers left your clit but were replaced by the tip of his cock, caressing the bundle of nerves. Wishing you could see his face, you huffed from frustration. Your arms were still tied together above your head with the belt, and your vision still blocked by the tie. Seeing John’s pleasure only added to your own. 

In a single swift thrust, John had fully entered your heat. A cry left your throat at a loud volume, the satisfaction of finally being filled overwhelming your senses. The man started moving slowly, allowing you time to adjust to his large size. Pleasure coursed through your veins, and despite the man's rule, you began to move your hips with his. He removed his hands from around your ankles, resting your legs over his shoulders, before moving them down. He ripped your bra off, hand quick to grasp onto the flesh and fingers eagerly playing with your nipple. More waves of pleasure navigated your figure, the familiar warm feeling beginning to grow in your lower belly. 

Keeping his rhythm, John leaned forward and connected his lips with your breast, littering hickies across the soft, fleshy skin. Moans echoed the room, you being too drunk to care about keeping them under control. His thumb expertly rubbed your clit, only added to the fire within your belly. His mouth connected with your nipple, only doubling the pleasure you were feeling. John adjusted the position of his hips slightly, causing the head of his cock to rub against your g-spot. 

“Oh- Oh- I’m going to cum,” You breathed, the pit in your belly close to exploding. John took your words as a challenge thrusting harder. With a cry, your orgasm erupted throughout your body. Your finger and toe tips tingled as your muscles repeatedly flexed and relaxed. John let you ride out your orgasm, thrusting deeply before he too finished. His large body slumped onto your own, both of you breathing heavily. The man took a few moments before he lazily untied your hands and blindfold. 

“Whoa.” You spoke as soon as he took the fold off. He smirked, leaning on one elbow so he could face you.

“So, are you going to obey now?” He questioned, finger running up your body and between your breasts. You nodded swiftly, biting your lip. Although, once in a while you’ll have to misbehave. You two laid there quietly for about ten minutes before getting dressed in pajamas. Once clothed, you returned to your bed, both of you climbing in. Most of the time John stays until you are asleep. Then, not to raise suspicion, he returns to his bedroom across the hall. It was the only way you got away with ‘sleeping together’. John still didn’t know that your mom knows about some things. Thankfully, your father still doesn’t. You didn’t know when to break the news; speaking of bad news. Santino. The bar.

“John?” You questioned, turning to face him. He currently laid on his back, a book in hand. 

“Yes?” He answered, pausing his reading to look at you. He studied his handsome face, before speaking up.

“The bar I was at- Santino showed up. We- We spoke.” The words faintly floated from your lips. John sat up, his focus picking up on you. “You’ve been leaving at night, taking out certain camps with Santino’s men?” It was spoken like a statement, but lingered as a question. 

“Yes. I have.” He spoke, not breaking eye contact. Even though he was the one in trouble, his gaze made you feel like you were the scolded child. 

“W-Why didn’t you tell me?” You huffed, “I could’ve helped.”

“(Y/N), stop.” He spoke, but more commanded. You held your mouth open, but no words escaped. “I did it because I can’t see you getting hurt. You’re-” He paused, “You’re clumsy.”

Your cheeks flamed a hot pink at his words, embarrassment coursing through your veins. So, maybe you were a little… clumsy when it came to combat. You allowed yourself to get hurt by only two men in the alley- who you could’ve easily taken in your glory days. You’ve allowed your guard to lower, and so has your skills. You’d just stopped caring about it all; Up until John showed up. 

“Okay. I-I appreciate it.” Your voice floated out in a whisper after a few moments of silence. He nodded, returning to his previous position and continuing on with reading. You stared at him for a few more seconds, sighing before giving up and laying down. 

“What else did he say?” John questioned. You shrugged, your thoughts rummaging through your memories of the conversation. 

“Where's your boy, hm? No play toy tonight?”

“Your… boyfriend,”

“John Wick could never touch me.”

“He’s definitely threatened of you.” You spoke. It sounds like something a man trying to cover up his cowering confidence would say. John nodded; a little smirk growing on the corner of his lips. You got to admit, it was a little sexy to see him turned on by fear. But, there was also the fact Santino knew about your relationship with John; he could tell your father. 

——————

The next day came and flew by, the evening presenting itself faster than you would've liked. Now, here you stood in your bedroom, mother zipping up the gown from the seamstress’s shop. You studied yourself in the mirror; your hair had been styled in a low bun out of your face and perfect for combat. Your makeup was elegant however, you donned a smokey eye with black and brown shadows, as well as a dramatic set of false eyelashes. The dress your mother finished zipping made your breasts look perfect, and it showed off your body nicely; as well as the slit up to the thigh.

“You look stunning.” Your mother smiled. You just now noticed she’d been staring at you through the mirror too. You gave her a sad smile before turning your attention away and towards putting on shoes. Tonight was the gala... Tonight, there is a good chance you’re going to die. Anxiety hadn’t left your gut all day, however knowing John was to be at your side gave you a little security.

“Where is John?” You asked, turning around and looking at your mother. She blinked at your sudden question before answering. 

“He’s just outside the door, waiting. We’ve got to leave in five minutes.” She spoke, pushing your purse into your hands. You nodded, swiftly gathering the rest of the things you'd need. You made sure your weapons were secure in their strapped on spots. The ankle strap was hidden by the long length of the dress, and the thigh strap was hidden on the inside of the slit. Taking one last deep breath, you exhaled loudly and stepped towards the door, opening it with determination. John looked at you as you exit the room, a little smile he was trying to contain covering his face. 

“I’m ready.” You spoke, a hint of faux confidence covering the words. John nodded, leading you out of the home and towards the car. Your family would be taking separate cars to the event, for safety and get away reasons. It was just easier this way. John guided you into one of the vehicles, following in afterwards himself. He gestured for the driver to go, then hit the button to raise the divider. His other hand creeped onto your exposed thigh slit, and you bit your lip at the sensation of his calloused fingers gliding across smooth skin. 

“How are you feeling?” John asked quietly. You took the moment to admire how stunning he looked as well. He had gelled back his hair, and combed his beard. He also wore one of his all black three pieces. 

“Nervous.” You spoke, your eyes returning to his face. He nodded, leaning down and capturing your lips with his own. You sighed into the kiss, some nerves beginning to calm down. He broke the kiss first, the hand that had been resting on your thigh giving it a squeeze. 

“I’ll be beside you all night. I’m not going anywhere.” John’s words felt like a warm blanket, and you leaned into his side, wrapping your arms around his one. The man's head rest on top of your own, the two of you falling into a comfortable silence. The comfort didn’t last long however, as the car began to slow down, eventually coming to a stop. Your gaze moved to the window, noticing the large building that the gala was hosted in. Herds of people were standing outside, shuffling in and out of the building. Many reporters were also outside, taking pictures of famous people in attendance. John untangled your bodies and climbed out first, opening the door for you. You took a deep breath, gathering your purse and making sure your straps were secured before sliding out yourself. John held out his arm for you to wrap your own around; which you accepted. 

“Are you ready, baby?” He spoke softly. You nodded, letting your bodyguard take the lead.

---

Master List

#john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick fanfic #john wick fanfiction #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x you #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves fanfiction #keanu reeves smut #john wick smut

[aliypop]

Apatia

Word Count: 3,235

Character Count: 17,58

Warning: Slight murder?

A/N: this is the third part to Empatia and Simpatia so I really hope you guys enjoys and please let me know if you do!

"Seems you're home early.." Hannibal said a soft smile on his face, "It would seem so if this were my home," the lawyer grumbled her leg resting on one of his pillows, the doctor had told her that resting would give herself a bit more strength than when she had entered the hospital, but as always she was reluctant and hard-headed, staring out the window in the living room she focused on the raindrops something she had been doing lately other than trying to cook in Hannibals unexplainably Sweedish supplied kitchen, 

"Have you taken what the doctors prescribed you yet.."  he sat next to her on the couch, watching the way the dim lamp lighting made her glow as if she were heaven-sent.

" Madness can be a medicine for the modern world. You take it in moderation, "  mumbling as eyes focused on the case trying to read Wills chicken scratch handwriting, "Is that not what you've always told me, " Shanel asked, her tone of voice blunt and oozing with sarcasm,  "It is but it's best if you take them in this case to heal," trying not to get aggravated with her although she had only been out the hospital for a week, he still couldn't hide his concern for what he found in her file, "You should leave me alone .." she mumbled under her breath trying to verbally push him away, 

"You feel like you're sinking, " he looked at her,

"I'm fine.." she looked away from his shark-like gaze.

"You barely come out of your room, " he sighed, watching her avoid his eye contact, "Why is that?"

"Well, Doctor Lector.. if we're playing a game of doctor-patient.." she tried not to lash out at him, her fingers fidgeting around the fabric under her, "This isn't my home, I question why I agreed with you to stay, nothing I own is even here," Shanel sighed, attending to her note again Hannibal closing her notepad, 

"You've been awfully rude lately.. " he growled much as a lion would growl to get a lamb to grovel at its feet, dark honey eyes glared at his amber ones, 

"Maybe I would enjoy it if I was home in my apartment, or if I didn't have nightmares every night, or if I wasn't such a!" she covered her mouth, turning away from him quickly, Hannibal could sense and smell what was going on with her he could practically taste her sleepless nights the stench of her depression her aching bones from working herself too hard let alone the way she startled around him lately, he'd only seen this in a few older clients, but never this close, 

"How long have you been surviving post-traumatic stress disorder," he sat down on his chase, sketchbook open, "If you must know.. I've been suffering from this since I was little.." she mumbled, focusing on his hands, his face the way it no longer blurred, instead, he stood out among the darkness surrounding him, 

"You've gone through quite an awful lot of psychiatrists have you not..' he looked up, catching the lighting from above her head as she continued to talk, 

"I have, even a few mental hospitals.." she laughed, "I bit my doctor a few times got punished for bad behavior ."  her eye's now on him as she rests her head on the arm of the couch her dark hair framing her face landing on her shoulder, the dark circles under her eyes definitely indicated her lack of sleep, much like Will Graham who too seemed to almost suffer from something slightly similar, but that was neither here nor there in the matter, 

"Quid pro quo Doctor Lector.,"  she suggested, 

"I beg your pardon.," he responded, stopping in his tracks of sketching. 

"I tell you things, you tell me things," she smirked, placing her head in the palm of her hands, "nothing has to deal with my case file," she suggested as he nodded. A little game with the young lawyer wouldn't hurt at least he had hoped it wouldn't, 

"How long have you been orphaned," she asked, "If you lie, I will uncomfortably lick you.." she stared deep into his ever so changing soul, pencil now on paper, besides she was always told it's best to know the person you live with then break bread to a stranger, " I was 8 years old," he looked directly at Shanel, not knowing the first question would be such a big blow to his oh so secretive past that not many knew about it, his own secrets to the grave he'd say, 

"Your aunt was she a.. nice lady?" she watched the tension in his back, and how it made him stiffen up, "She taught me a few tricks.." he laughed playing off the stings one by one,  

"Quid pro quo, tell me about your boarding  school years," 

" Quid pro quo, why did you leave Florence but yet forget me.," her voice turning into a small tremble, there wasn't a sleepless night when she was a young girl that she didn't think of her perfect stranger in the museum, after all, her mind palace was modeled after it, the silence between them felt as if someone had died and was never coming back, neither party wanted to break it they didn't know-how, the air was deathly still as she collected her thoughts, her phone ringing the caller idea flashing Will Graham's number, "Duty call's" getting up from the couch using her crutch limping about to the front door,

"Jack wants to see you in his office," Will said, "How soon can you get here?" 

"Well, need I remind you I am an hour away and injured?"  she stated behind gritted teeth as she got into her car, "Patience is virtue Graham .. but clearly it's not enough," she mumbled under breath, the headquarters, unlike Hannibal's home, was brighter and a lot less bleak in the mix, though the odd aroma caused by decaying evidence, however, leave a trace in her naval cavity it wasn't as bad as,

 "You and your ship bottle aftershave.." she laughed, 

"I keep getting it for Christmas.." he shrugged, noticing something off about her. 

"Remind me to buy something else, perhaps Dolce and Gabbana?" she patted him on the back a snicker leaving her lips, walking towards Crawford's office never felt that long of a walk it was usually five minutes but with crutches and a limp it was five hours or so it seemed in her head, 

 "Will you've changed .." Shanel pointed out, "you've been irritable .. lately losing lack of sleep... " she looked at his tired blue eyes his curls still springing to life on his head unlike him, "First, Lector now you..." he kept his gaze off of hers a thing he usually did, 

"And since when did you become so wise with psychology .." 

"Damn it, Will, last time you got close you almost died I sat there every day in your hospital room waiting for you to breathe or.. or move you're my friend, and I can't let you suffer!"  she growled, throwing her crutches down out of anger,  

he only laughed at the way she reacted, "And yet you can," he snarled walking inside, seeing Alana and Jack who were like usual discussing Will Graham with his shaky mental health, Shanel only sighed looking at the scruffy consultant's reaction as he pulled at a seat for his favorite lawyer, Shanel could only feel discomfort in herself and around her, never truly understanding why they called in a lawyer from another state she sat there dreaming off until they mentioned her name which never really happened,  

"Are you going to let his love go to waste?" Hannibal asked as his voice echoed through the gallery halls longer than ones in a cathedral, Shanel knew where she was though still getting used to transporting herself there and getting out was the hard parts, " You ask me questions and, never answered mine, why is that," she asked looking down seeing that her suit was now a pink dress sheer showing her vulnerability but with solid silk showing all she was hiding, flowing behind her was long fabric making her look so well put together even when she felt that she wasn't, standing before her was Hannibal, and as usual, he was in white a color that suits him very well, "You're a challenging one," he said offering his hand out to hers waiting for her to take it,

 "Am I..."  she asked him, watching the way her hands came to her side, " And what's this about love going to waste.." her response snappy, 

"The way you look at Graham.." 

"What about it.."  she walked by his side, "You think I love.. " she saw him nod as she laughed, knowing he wasn't her type at all, instead of Will her interest was more on someone who was intellectually competent skilled in the arts and a lover among many things, 

"Well do you, Ms. Mahone," 

"Ms. Mahone.."

"Ms. Mahone.." Jack sighed, "Are you sure you're able to take on this case.." watching how she reacted, Shanel had understood most of what Jack asked of her, " As her appointed lawyer you want me to consult with Hobbs seek out that her wishes have been fulfilled and keep her record clean," she recited back to him her head feeling like it could pop off at any moment, however, she wasn't the only one feeling the same way, Hannibal watched the move in company as they emptied the truck of his new roommate per se items scuffing up her pure gold headboard and nearly ripping her king-sized mattress, 

"Do be.. careful with that," he grumbled seeing how rude they were made him want to smash the very blood and brains in their heads against the walls, he wanted her return to their now shared home to be breathtaking and impressive even though she drove him up a wall with her condition that she'd been avoiding to talk about, walking into what was now her closet he took notice of what she had made the hidden compartment into, stocked with her guns, knives, and sedation medication along with several embalming fluids that not even he could get his hands on anymore without his license, but what caught him off guard the most was her pink suit that almost resembled a two-piece rain set, which made him feel two things, curious and slightly scared of what a short woman like her was capable of doing,

"Hannibal, I'm here.." she said announcing herself through the door, scraping off the access blood off her hands, as well as the leftover brains that were now on her heels, "That'll teach you lot not to go for the cookie jar," she raised her heel up pressing it into one of the victim's necks, rotating the point on his sternocleidomastoids,

 "Do you eat vocal cords," she asked hearing Hannibal  come across the steps,

"Should I perhaps be worried as to why you asked.." he looked down seeing blood on his wood floors and barley any on Shanel, "If so I'll be sure not injure them if not.." she began pressing the pressure deep into the man's neck hearing him gargle blood as the bones snapped one by one like a button on a shirt, "They were entirely rude, he scuffed your beautiful furniture, and If I'm not mistaken, he smells of tortured children..," he pointed towards the man under her foot as she took her finger tasting the pure sweat from the works face,

 "I believe you're correct! " she laughed, eyes almost a pitch-black from the lust she received from killing, this was the side he had wanted to see, how she committed her art of personal treason the faces made, and how the trophies were made if any were even kept, to see the true her was knowing everything he needed to see, 

"Did you want a piece of the action?" she turned to him watching how he carried the bodies over his shoulders like pigs left to slaughter, "I've got it from here," he smiled walking through the kitchen and into another forbidden door across from the wine pantry, standing like a deer in headlights she remained still and never once moved, "You don't have to be scared little lion," he said  hearing her bare feet on the ground, from her soft walk he could sense she was a ballerina almost a pro, heading down the many flights of steps limping down, she could feel the breeze of trust pass her way, along with an unfamiliar sensation crossed, that she'd almost call it admiration for the slightly older man, 

"Well, isn't this adorable a torture basement, you know.." she began, placing the bodies on the surgical table as she took a needle out from the heel of her shoe connecting it to the victim's arm and IV, 

"Yes, nurse Mahone," he joked, looking at the way she played doctor with him, "My father had one of these when I was little, installed it himself, so many times I walk and.. he was cutting a finger or an eye," she sighed almost flashing back to those times, he took the plastic tube from her, caressing her finger a way to remind her that her scars were a reminder that past was real, a lesson she had tended to forget,  "How was your day back on the field," his hand finding his favorite surgical tool, 

"Crawford wants me on the case around, Hobbs at most times, meanwhile Bloom thinks I'm not ready to be back, and Graham thinks everyone's attacking him," she sighed,  stitching the eyes aggressively together pricking herself, "Merda," she grumbled Hannibal took her finger, placing it to his lips taking a bit of the sweet, decadent taste on his tongue, not paying any attention to how flustered he made Shanel he could smell the scent which was just enough for him to know he was on the right track.,  "Such language ..," commenting on what she had muttered under her breath,

 "You speak Italian .." she questioned, removing her hand from near his mouth " The might be a safer bet, he has liver, pancreatic, and lung cancer not what you'd want to serve to your guest tonight," she mentioned waiting for his answer as he nodded, " My mother was Italian  Simonetta Sforza-Lecter," he studied her reaction to the name seeing how she froze in her tracks, the name was so familiar, but couldn't place where she had heard it, 

"And yours?" he asked, "Only finishing our little game from earlier," he smirked, giving her a wink.

"Rosetta Leoni Addorio Mahone" he looked at her in shock but saw how the resemblance was uncanny, it had been so many years since he had last seen yet even been in Italy that he didn't even think twice to names, "Perhaps we'll talk after dinner, our guest will be here any moment, " he said seeing Shanel leave up the steps ascending like an angel, soaking in the tub her mind couldn't help but wonder about what she experienced from lector, one moment they're nearly at each other's throats, and the next moment he's trying to doctor her up and butter her up to get her to trust him, as she looked at the bubbles around her they seemed to have been showing her a new her the suds began getting dark,  the feeling of something tugging at her feet weighing her down while the water was as black as blood in the moonlight, she kept gasping for air, but she couldn't breathe scream or even shout, trapped watching her past float around while the taste of Iron scaped into her mouth, 

"Shanel..." a voice said calling out to her,

"Shanel.." She sank deeper the water becoming thicker seeing a bright light at the end, 

"Shanel, are you alright?" Hannibal wrapped her in a towel, checking for her pulse feeling her shiver much like a helpless kitten, "Can you hear me..." he asked opening her mouth, wheezing and coughing occurred but it was a sign that she was alive and well, frazzled from what she saw she hid her face deep into his neck knowing that what she once was becoming came to return to her,  he sat her down on her bed as Shanel kept clinging on to Hannibal his scent calming her down, 

"What did you see.." 

She shook her head not wanting to talk,

"Please cooperate with me.." he sighed, sitting her down, "If we don't talk about these things, they eat at us and turn us into crazies," he tried getting her to talk, giving up shortly he turned his back to walk away, 

"I sa-saw bla-bla-blood," she stuttered, " An-an-an-and, I saw h-h-h," she began shaking the moment of Christopher grabbing her foot the sound of the zipper played over, and over again in her mind,  he could only cradle her like he once did someone else long ago,

 "The mirrors in your mind can only reflect the best of yourself not the worst of someone else,"  he tilted her chin up with his index finger, the puddles of tears clouding her eyes like a river, she looked down as he brought her eyes to face his, "You are no more a monster than what he is," he kissed the bridge of her nose, 

"I'll be down in a minute.." she whispered as he nodded exciting out of her room, she took her time applying her makeup and adding garnet clips in her hair to match her red dinner dress and heels, she could hear the chattering downstairs almost like a group of screaming lambs carrying, but now it was her time to carry on amongst them as the lion he knows her to be, "Bloom, Abigal lovely to have you both for dinner at his - our humble estate," Shanel gazed, over at Hannibal who wore a matching garnet tie. 

 "It's our pleasure really,"  Alana smiled, "I figured we'd check on your well being and dinner,"  she joked as Hannibal pulled the seat out for Shanel, 

"Must we talk about me, and not Ms. Hobbs" she looked over at Abigal who gave her a soft smile full of nerves, " I promise you I don't bite though,  Hannibal I can't  speak for him," she laughed yet again hearing the table enjoy her joke,  Dinner like always had been great, company laughs and of course surrounded by fake smiles and fake love, Shanel sighed washing the dishes humming a slight tune as she heard Hannibal walk beside her listening to the melody from her mouth, it made him think a woman with so many gifts had so many talents, "I hope dinner was to your liking," he began making small talk, 

"You fit in quite very well out there, " he got closer towards her, "You put on the mask so that no one sees the true you it becomes buried deep inside you instead," he watched her  body language, 

"Suppose we keep it up then what.." she asked him getting irritable,

"People will think we're in love," he took her lips with his own walking away,

"You make me want to murder you..." she grumbled.

"Dito.." 

#nbc hannibal #fanfiction #hannibal x oc #hannibal fanfiction #new #i hope you like it #having an old friend for dinner #shanel mahone #will graham #fannibals

[ghostofviperwrites]

Suzuki Gunz Crime Family - Chapter 14

Word Count: 1738

Warnings:  Language

March 4, 2003

The past three days had been a whirlwind. Hours upon hours upon hours spent in Minoru’s study with Los Ingobernables, hashing out the details of the gun trade as well as the implications of the marriages between the families.  As Minoru had assured his family the Ingobernables had no interest in stepping into any kind of role with the Guns.  They preferred to stay in the shadows and handling their arms smuggling operation which stretched across most of the Eastern Hemisphere.  It kept them rather busy and they had no desire to expand into other territories.  However, they were willing to lend their services should they be required.  

There was haggling and arguing back and forth over pricing as well as the amount of arms Suzuki Gun would receive.  Naito was also insistent that the Guns be trained to his satisfaction before receiving their weapons, pointing to Evil as their weapons specialist to handle the training.  

“is this really necessary?” Davey asked in annoyance.  “How hard is it?  You point and shoot.”  

Evil fixed him with an icy glare.  

“We’re not going to let you run around like idiots and bring attention to yourselves.  It’s not quite as easy as you think it is.  I will teach you and you will learn.  Or I’ll kill you all.”  Evil said evenly.

Once again shouts erupted from the Guns as they threatened Evil as the man stared back nonplussed.

“Calm down.” Naito said holding his hand up. “Nobody is going to kill anybody. We’re family now.  Right Evil?”

Evil grunted with a slight nod, leaning back in his seat with a wide yawn.  

“Speaking of family.”  Desperado spoke up.  “Since we are now can I ask Bushi something?”  He couldn’t help but be fascinated by the other masked man.  LIJ were secretive to an extreme and Suzuki Gun was on the wrong side of the information track.  LIJ seemed to know everything about them while the Guns were grasping at any thread they could pick up.  

Bushi nodded with a smirk on his black painted lips locking Desperado in his gaze as he waited for the question he already knew was coming.  

“Why do you wear the mask?”  Desperado asked gesturing towards Bushi’s intricately decorated mask.  The third such different one he’d worn in the three days they had known each other. “Or masks I guess I should say.”  

“So, I can do what I do unnoticed.  No one knows who I am or what I look like.  In the streets with no mask I’m just another nobody.”  Bushi said with a shrug.  

“Since we’re family and all do we get be graced with your beauty?”  Lance taunted making Bushi roll his eyes and reach for the laces on the back of his mask, loosening them and pulling off the mask revealing his face to the Guns as a show of trust.  

“Damn,” said Lance with a disappointed chuckle. “I was hoping you’d be ugly.”  

“Fuck you.” Bushi said succinctly to Lance, running his fingers through his dyed blonde hair in an attempt to brush back the flyaway locks. “Turnabouts fair play Desperado, brother, why do you wear your mask?”

“Oooh is there something the Ingos don’t know?” Zack said with a grin casting a worried glance at Despy.  

“It’s fine Zack.” Desperado said reaching for the laces on his own mask.  

“This is why I wear the mask.” He told Bushi as he removed the vinyl material revealing his face to LIJ.  He held his chin high, pride refusing to let him cower beneath their stares as they took in the deep scarring over his face.  

“Still want me to marry your sister pretty boy?” He asked Sanada with a sneer, the only one who didn’t change his expression one iota as he took in the mess that had been left of Desperado’s face.  

“I really don’t give a fuck.”  Sanada said speaking his first words in the presence of the Guns. “Once you put a ring on her finger the bitch is yours.”   That brought a smile to Desperado’s face surprised at the easy acceptance.  Sliding the mask back on his tightened the laces as Bushi re-secured his own mask.

“Speaking of, look who’s here,” Naito said with a grin as Sanada’s sister Kyo appeared in the doorway on the arm of her escort. “Kyo, come meet your husband to be.”  

Naito grabbed her by the elbow and shooed off the escort bringing the beautiful young girl to Desperado’s side.

“Desperado this is Sanada’s sister Kyo. Kyo, meet Desperado.” Naito introduced the two, watching Kyo carefully to make sure she was going to walk the line as she bowed her head in greeting to Desperado and spoke niceties in her soft voice.  He needn’t have worried, Kyo would never dare disrespect her brother in his wishes. She had known for a long time that she would not be granted a marriage of love but would rather be used as a pawn.  

“We’ve produced ours Minoru, now where is Bushi’s bride?”  Naito said leaving Kyo’s side as Desperado sat and pulled her down into his lap hands tight on her hips.  Minoru frowned looking at his watch.  11:30. They should have been here by now.  His fists clenched as he reached for his cellphone, dialing his mother’s house.

“Where the fuck is Chie?” he shouted as soon as it was answered.  “She is supposed to be here.”  His face turned red with rage as he listened to the voice on the other end. “Gone?  What do you mean she’s gone?  Where the fuck is she?”  Minoru ran his fingers through his hair as he listened to babbled excuses. “Why am I just now hearing about this?” He yelled shutting the man up.  “You tell my mother I will deal with her later.”  

“You lost your sister?”  Hiromu asked with a giggle, unable to contain his laughter. “Your wife ran away on you Bushi.” Hiromu slapped his knee as he found this whole situation hilarious.  “The runaway bride.”  

Minoru swallowed his anger and turned to face the Ingos, who, except for Hiromu, looked rather displeased with him.

“We upheld our end of the bargain Suzuki.” Naito said angrily.  “What kind of shit are you trying to pull?”  Tension filled the room as the men on both sides rose squaring off in the center of the room.  

“Calm down everyone.” Minoru said waving off his men. “This isn’t anything on our end. My mother,” He said distastefully. “Failed to tell me my sister ran off after I visited her and informed her of her upcoming marriage.  It’s an egregious oversight on my part and I take full blame.”  As angry as he was, Minoru knew the fault fell on him.  He had made a deal and was failing to fulfill his end of the bargain.  “I’ll send my men out and we will find her.”

“No.”  Bushi spoke up.  “I’ll find her. After all, she is my bride.”  Bushi stared challengingly at Minoru until he nodded in concession. “Good.  Now let’s get Desperado hitched and then I’ll go search for the lovely Chie.”  

“Let me guess.  You already know what she looks like.”  Taichi asked resignation tinging his tone as Naito smiled and nodded. Of course they did.  He really didn’t expect anything less at this point.

Calling in the officiant the new couple stood in front of him and recited their vows, Kyo’s voice trembling as she promised herself to a man she had just met.  She cast unsure eyes at her brother as the officiant sought those two binding words from her, shrinking back as she met his hard-expectant eyes.  

“I do.” She whispered sealing her fate as they were declared man and wife when Desperado slid the massive diamond ring on her finger.  Her eyes squeezed shut as Desperado pulled her to his body, burying his tongue in her unresponsive mouth, his grip growing tighter as he sensed her hesitation.  

“I think it’s time for me and my wife to get to know each other.”  Desperado said as he broke the kiss. “Come find me when it’s time for Bushi’s wedding.” With those words he pulled her from the room towards the stairs leading to his room on the second floor.  

“Don’t let him go anywhere,” Bushi said pointing at the officiant. “I plan on getting married today.”  

The two groups watched Bushi stride purposefully out of the study utter confidence in every step he took.  Watching him leave there was no doubt in the room that Bushi would bring Chie back home. 

“This is not the best start to our allegiance.” Hiromu said.  “If this is how you run your family how can we have confidence in your ability to run an organization?”  

“Hiromu stop being a dick.”  Naito said with a roll of his eyes. “We wouldn’t be here if we weren’t well aware of how well they run an organization.  Stop causing trouble, we have enough going on today.” Hiromu jutted out his lower lip crossing his arms over his chest as he pouted.  

“We should warn you Suzuki-san,” Naito said. “Just so you can be prepared, your sister is probably not going to be brought back in the best of conditions by Bushi.”  

“I thought Evil was the one I should be concerned with?” Minoru said looking at the perpetually angry big man.  “Though at the moment I’m wishing I had selected him as I would happily turn my errant sister over to him.  Whatever that might mean.”  

“I’ve got to ask.” Davey said.  “Why the warnings for Evil?”  Evil found himself the center of attention as all the present Guns turned to him.  

“Evil has certain, proclivities.”  Naito said vaguely, leaving it to Evil to decide if he wished to elaborate.  

“I have a dungeon.”  Evil said bluntly.  “I like to torture and hurt.  And I like to play with knives and make women bleed.”  

“Don’t forget the drinking blood part.”  Hiromu reminded him helpfully.

“For the hundredth time, I don’t drink the blood Hiro,”  Evil said in exasperation.  “I taste it. Like a fine wine.” He smirked as looks ranging from fascination to disgust filled the faces of the Guns.  

“We’re getting off track.”  Naito said before the conversation delved further away.  “I would like your assurances that no matter the condition your sister is returned here in that it won’t adversely affect our relationship.”  He stared at Minoru expectantly.  

“Even though its not official yet, she belongs to Bushi.”  Minoru decreed. “I will not interfere in how he chooses to punish his bride.” 

#sgcf #Suzuki gunz crime family #Suzuki gunz fanfic #Suzuki gunz imagine #njpw fanfic #wrestling fanfic #mywriting #ghostofviperwrites

[professional-benaddict]

How bout a fic later in a mob!au timeline? Peter being mobboss Stark's pretty pet for 2 years now and everyone is predicting Tony will grow tired and get rid of him soon. When Tony shows interest in another pretty thing, Peter kills him/er in a jealous rage. Going from straight-laced innocent pete to murder in 2 years just proves how much Peter really is the perfect pet for Tony.

THIS HAS TAKEN FOREVER IM SO SORRY SKSKS bUt here it is if you still want it anon babe ;-;

Mafia boss!Tony, 18+ sugar baby Peter, advisor Stephen, murder, manipulation, blood, guns and knives (and Tony being a bit soft but only for his boy)

“He left just now, Boss.”

“Which gun did he pick?”

“A Glock.”

“Good.”

“About 50 yards, Boss. He’s about to enter the apartment building.” Clint’s voice came through the speakers of the laptop on Tony’s desk. Besides the radio tab on the screen, which showed four connections, there was only one other tab. It showed an overview map with a red blinking dot moving steadily through the streets - the tracker that Stephen had placed in Peter’s leather jacket before the boy had headed out.

The red dot stopped by a building and both Stephen and Tony watched intently as they waited for Clint to update them. A minute passed before he spoke through the radio again.

The red dot stopped by a building and both Stephen and Tony watched intently as they waited for Clint to update them. A minute passed before he spoke through the radio again.

“He’s in. Quite the hacker, that boy.”

Tony smirked around his cigar before giving further instructions.

“Now, get on the roof, Clint. Steve, Bucky, your turn.”

“Yes, Boss.” Steve replied immediately. A minute later he spoke again. “In position by the main entrance.”

“In position by the back door.” Bucky confirmed as well.

“Clint? You got eyes on him yet?” Tony asked.

“Yes, Boss, he’s entered the apartment and has the girl at gunpoint. She’s unarmed as far as I can see. She’s on her knees and hands over her head. He’s saying something.” Clint narrated without any emotion in his voice. He had seen such scenes a thousand times by now, unlike Peter. “Peter’s shaking- I don’t know if he can do it, Boss. Shall we intervene?”

“Told you-“ Stephen tried, but was cut of by a sharp glare from Tony.

“No, do not intervene. Give him some time, goddammit. You are your itching trigger finger, Clint, fucking hell.” Tony snapped back and the radio fell silent. The seconds ticked by and Tony felt a few drops of cold sweat on the back of his neck. The Boss was growing impatient and was just about to bark for an update when Clint spoke.

“Peter did it.”

It was like Tony’s own child had taken their first steps, that’s how proud he felt, but instead of first steps then his pet had made his first kill. All Tony showed on his otherwise expressionless and cold face was a half smirk.

“You are an unbelievable manipulator, Boss.” Steve chuckled through the radio. “I’ll admit, I had my doubts, I mean such a sweet little thing like Peter? Sweet little Peter in oversized pastel sweaters and stockings killing someone? How are you gonna reward him later, Boss?”

“As much as I like the pastels, I think he looks amazing in all black. He even picked out boots two sizes too big and wore gloves. No prints and no trace for the coppers! I remember my first kill was much more clumsier than his- oh, he’s leaving now.” Clint informed.

“Shut it!” Tony barked, feeling a wave of possessiveness wash over him as he sat up in his chair. “Just bring him back already. Nat.”

“On it.” Natasha replied and rolled the car up to the apartment building. A minute or two passed before Steve spoke through the radio.

“I got him, Boss, we’ll be over in- Hey, Peter!”

“TONY!” Tony snapped his eyes up from his cigar to the laptop screen in front of him. It seemed that Peter had snatched Steve’s earpiece. “What the hell is this, Tony? You followed me?”

“Well, hello, baby boy.”

“Don’t ´baby boy´ me, you ass! What is going on?”

“I’ll explain everything when you get back.” Tony explained blandly before moving to cut the radio connection off in the middle of Peter’s protest.

It all started when their two year anniversary of meeting one another for the first time came around that Tony started plotting. He had done it to all of his pets in the past, but unfortunately very few of his pets survived long enough for Tony to even put them through it. After meeting Peter, Tony did not want any other pet in his life and put extra effort into protecting his favourite toy. Tony was loyal to Peter, but was Peter loyal to Tony? And how far would he go to have Tony? By putting Peter through his test, Tony would get the answers to those two questions.

After their luxurious anniversary retreat to Bora Bora, Tony had strategically pushed Peter further and further away from himself each day. He would deny Peter his company, the privilege of sitting on his lap during meetings and having his hand on his bony hip during deals, but worst of all, he denied the boy sex. After two weeks, when the hole in Peter’s pastel pink heart was gaping like a black hole in space, Tony had brought in the girl. She was a nobody, an associate to a rivalry mafia, but she was pretty, very pretty. The girl, Nora, was a tall and skinny one, with long blonde hair that flowed over her delicate shoulders and framed her heart-shaped face beautifully. Despite her skinny form, she had a perky ass and large breasts, which even had Clint and Steve gaping at her when she passed them in the halls of Tony’s warehouse. She was a beauty and an obvious rival to Peter in the game of getting the Boss’ attention and honour of being his pet.

Unsure of what to do and afraid to confront Tony face to face, a sobbing Peter had gone to his second closest figure in the gang, Stephen. He had poured his little heart out, begging Stephen to tell him what he had done to anger Tony. The advisor wanted nothing more than to tell Peter the truth, that it was all a test, but all he said was what Tony had strictly instructed him to do, which was to fill the hole in Peter’s heart with furious jealousy.

“That’s just Tony Stark being Tony Stark. He gets tired of his pets and gets rid of them. You know how he is? He isn’t a good man by far.”

“He is good to me.” Peter had hiccuped before correcting himself with a small voice. ”Was good to me…”

“He will get rid of Nora too, you can bet on that. No one around here is special, Peter.” Stephen had said bluntly, but on the inside he felt dirty for deceiving the sweet little boy. However, Peter dried his tears and sat up straighter, his eyes turning hard as a thought seemed to occur to him.

“Not if I get rid of her first.”

And that is exactly what he had done, surprising Stephen, Natasha, Clint, Steve and Bucky, but not Tony. He knew the boy, what he was capable of. Nora was nothing compared to Peter and Tony dreaded the time he had to spend with her to keep up the deception. The Boss was thrilled that he would never have to have her clammy hands on him again and could not wait to get the boy that he truly loved on his lap. But, based on Peter’s angry tone through the radio, he wasn’t gonna sit on his lap just yet.

Ten minutes passed and Tony heard footsteps out in the hall. It was an unspoken rule that one would always have to knock and get explicit permission from Tony to enter his office, but this time Peter ignored that completely and burst into the room, letting the door slam into the wall without care.

“Start talking!” Peter demanded, crossing his arms in front of his chest to appear intimidating. Despite the leather jacket, the black hoodie, the heavy boots and dark jeans, which was a rare look on Peter, Tony was far from intimidated. Instead, he felt his cock twitch with excitement at the sight of a furious Peter. Nora never satisfied him like Peter could and Tony ached to have his cock buried deep in the boy’s heavenly heat.

Tapping his cigar on the ash tray, Tony got up from his seat calmly and made a hand gesture to Stephen who was still leaning against the desk as well as Steve and the others out in the hall.

“Leave us.”

Soon enough Peter and Tony were left alone. It had been almost a month since they had been together like this and Peter ached to be close to the older man, his Daddy, but he had to stay strong and hold his ground. The boy’s otherwise bright eyes were darker now, like they have been stained by what he had just done. Tony saw that same darkness in his own eyes every time he looked at himself in the mirror. In a way, it was a shame, that such a sweet thing like Peter would also have to have his eyes darkened and hands dirtied with blood, but it had to be done. One cannot survive in this sort of life without getting pastel oversized sweaters stained with blood or start to catch the hint of gunpowder.

Stepping closer to Peter, Tony wet his thumb with his tongue and wiped away a drop of blood from Peter’s cheek before he spoke gently.

“I knew you could do it, my baby, I’m so proud of you.”

Peter gaped at the man in front of him, his brows knitting together in a puzzled expression before his eyes widened. It all seemed to fall into place in his head and the boy pushed Tony’s hand away from his face.

“You- you wanted me to do that… You made me kill her! But… why did you fuck her then? When I was here? I mean- Stephen said that-“

“I told Stephen to say that to you.”

“You’ve been doing this on purpose! Since Bora Bora, right? This- this was all a test? ”

“And you passed, baby.”

“You- you asshole!” In a quick manoeuvre, Peter retrieved a knife from his shirt sleeve and shoved it under Tony’s jaw. The Boss’ expression fell just a fraction, but otherwise he was completely calm, with his hands in his pockets and eyes fixed on Peter’s teary ones.

“Stephen didn’t tell me you took a knife too.”

”This one is mine.”

Tony hummed at that and smirked with pride again.

“I think I underestimated you, baby.”

“You sure fucking did.” Peter said shakily through gritted teeth, his jaw all clenched up tight as he swallowed thickly. Tony could feel the pressure of the cool knife on his neck lessen and soon it fell to the floor with a clatter. The boy collapsed into the older man’s arms with a sob. Holding Peter close, Tony inhaled the smell of Peter’s fruity shampoo and conditioner, loving the sensation of those soft curls against his skin. The boy fit so perfectly in his arms, his head tucked under his chin and skinny arms tight around his middle.

“Hey, hey. You’re no crybaby, Peter. Come on, it’s all right.” Tony shushed as he ran his large hand up and down the boy’s back.

“I-I’m no killer either…” Peter stuttered out, sniffling a couple of times. Wrapping his arms around Peter’s ass, Tony hauled the boy up into his arms. Peter made a little surprised squeak, but settled into the familiar position easily. This was his throne and letting his teary eyes fall shut, Peter leaned down to kiss Tony. Unlike their usual kisses, this one was soft, slow and sweet. There was no heated tongue nor groans in the back of throats as Tony fought for dominance over Peter’s delicious mouth. Instead, it was just a simple press of soft and delicate skin together which made both Tony and Peter feel all warm inside, all the way into their bones. Pulling away just a fraction, Tony whispered to his boy.

“You are a killer, my baby boy, and you made Daddy so proud.”

#my prompts #this one became a bit long and shit sorry sorry sksks #lEt alone the waiting time holy shit sksk #starker #starker fic #tony stark x peter parker #peter parker #tony stark #stephen strange