#vanity theft and three little words

[weirdowithaquill]

Traintober 2023: Day 9 - Viaduct

The Viaduct has a Story Behind It:

The Maron Viaduct stands as a testament to the Sodor and Mainland Railway’s poor financial decisions, stretching across the gorge between the town it’s named after and the rails to Cronk, the remains of a failed attempt by the old railway to build a railway to connect the island’s capital at Suddery to Barrow-in-Furness on the mainland.

The company had agreed to a 75-25 split with the Wellsworth and Suddery Railway on the other side of the gorge to build the viaduct, paying a massive lump sum of money they did not have to begin construction on what they believed would be the company’s salvation.

Neil disagreed. He saw the bridge for what it was: a vanity project by desperate men. “Too big to fail” they said. Neil wondered if they would ever come to regret those words. They certainly didn’t seem to mind when the bills kept piling up. Every other week, it seemed like something was going wrong – though in the beginning, they barely noticed.

At first, it was just tools vanishing in the night, small enough that it was not essential to the construction site and able to be written off as petty theft – but then, a stick of dynamite went off by itself. Neil wasn’t sure why they even had dynamite – he was told it was to remove boulders deep in the gorge; he thought that it should’ve been kept down there instead, and not up with the rest of their supplies.

An entire hut filled with tools went up in flames, the explosion sending debris shooting across the work site. Neil was just thankful it had happened in the late evening, when he had been leaving the site with the workmen. The men were shaken, but unharmed. Neil hurried away with the coaches, not wanting to look back.

He wasn't quite sure what he was going to see. 

The next week, a line of trucks Neil was shunting were diverted onto a siding leading to the edge of the gorge, a coupling snapping when the little engine tried to brake the train to a stop before it all went over. Three trucks kept rolling, and despite Neil whistling a warning, not everyone could get clear of the trucks before they went hurtling over the edge. They smashed down the side of the gorge, splintering and fracturing and shooting shards of wood everywhere, while their contents scattered out over the river. Mangled pieces of metal and splintered wood came raining down. 

Four men lost their lives, leaving Neil assaulted with nightmares that had his boiler run dry when the stars glinted high above them in the sky.

And yet it did not end.

The crane broke, more dynamite went off. The rope basket carrying tools and men across the gorge snapped, sending the basket crashing into the gorge, smashing to smithereens against the jagged rocks below. Every single time, Neil willingly turned a blind eye, and every night, Neil sat awake in his shed and wondered if it was worth praying to the human god. There was something deeply wrong with that gorge. 

Stories began to circulate, of the figure of a man who just wasn’t there. He wore clothing of the previous millennia, and he screamed and cursed at the bridge from afar. The men swore they saw him, standing just at the furthest point of the gorge visible to the railway. Neil felt an uncomfortable presence around the site – he felt like an intruder. They were not wanted here. 

The Wellsworth and Suddery Railway pulled out of the agreement. The losses were mounting, and the Elsbridge tramway was offering a far more lucrative offer for amalgamation and tunnel building to a harbour on the far side of the island, in the Irish Sea. Skarloey said it was a place called ‘Tidmouth’, and that somewhere on that side of the island another little railway ran, with an engine almost as old as the pair. Neil didn’t believe him – the terrain on that side of the island only grew rougher, less habitable. The shepherds who took their sheep into the foothills to graze said it was impassable, that the only way up to the Ancient City of Peel Godred was through the valley – but the people of Peel Godred refused to sell their land to the S&MR to build up that way. They said that it was old land, full of ghosts and demons borne of heretics cursed to forever wander the earth in search of a salvation that never came. 

Neil wondered if the figure the men saw in the gorge was one of these ghosts. From the way he acted, he could have been a demon. The fire that broke out and burnt the supports to ash and brought an entire pillar crumbling down was testament to that. 

Still, the S&MR refused to back down from this folly. They continued trying to stretch their viaduct across the gorge, even as the bills rose ever higher. Tools continued to go missing, dynamite exploded and damaged the blocks, trucks moved on their own, derailing and falling into the gorge.

And then, it happened.

Neil remembered being there, that silent night. He’s been ordered up to the construction site to drop off a line of trucks, to replace the ones filled with waste that had derailed and blocked half the line the night before. As he approached, he noticed a thick column of smoke blast up into the night sky.

“There’s a train coming on the other side,” his driver noted. “But the W&S said they weren’t going to run beyond Maron,” Neil replied slowly, peering into the darkness.

An engine rounded the bend, face white as a sheet and eyes wide with horror. Fire was bursting out on all sides, and on the footplate stood a man in clothing from nearly a millennia prior, cackling with glee as the engine roared towards the gorge. The poor engine looked as though he was on a one-way trip to the underworld, and he screamed and pleaded in horror; the man in his cab refused to respond. 

Neil could only shut his eyes and try to block out the explosion that came from the engine’s boiler rupturing and crumpling on impact. An entire section of the bridge shattered, crumpling in on itself and burying the destroyed engine. 

They finally stopped trying to build the bridge after that. The costs had grown too steep, and both the S&MR and the W&S could not afford to go near it. The rails were ripped up, and the remains of the structure were left to fade away. The two companies met similar fates: The W&S was merged with the TK&ER and bored a tunnel to Tidmouth, while the S&MR declared bankruptcy, and sold off all its assets. Both companies were decimated by the events of the construction of the Maron Viaduct, leaving little but their histories and their rail lines behind them…

At least, until the admiralty bought the three railways in 1915 and began construction once more. But before they could, they unearthed a skeleton nestled in the river at the base of the gorge, preserved in the sediment built up by the rushing water. He wore the tattered remains of what may have been a Viking and looked as if he had been attempting to crawl out of the water when he succumbed to his fate.

They moved his remains to a parish at Wellsworth; and performed several rites over the bridge before beginning construction once more. Neil stayed well away – he knew it wasn’t safe.

Today, the Maron Viaduct stands tall and proud over the gorge; and inscribed in its pillars is a single name, written in runes no man can read. No one knows how they got there, nor does anyone know what they say. But it’s said, if you touch the viaduct at the very moment the sun dips below the horizon, you will meet a ghost, who will impart on you your fate.

Neil refuses to go near the viaduct and discover if the legend is true. 

And it's a good thing he does... 

Back to the Master Post

#fanfiction writer #railway series #weirdowithaquill #thomas the tank engine #railways #traintober #traintober 2023 #the viaduct #ttte neil #Sodor & Mainland Railway #ghost

[atlinmerrick]

Minutiae: Vanity, Theft, and Three Little Words

Sherlock believes he is not a vain man. He has told this to Molly, Lestrade, Mrs Hudson, Mr Chatterjee, their dry cleaner, a cabby, and to that dapper child at 223 Baker Street.

There are at least eighty-eight proofs as to why this is false

#minutiae #sherlock fanfiction #sherlock fan fiction #vanity theft and three little words

[hanniiesuckle17]

Pros and Cons

A/n: im sorry it took so long for me to do this bb! This is for @poeticallyspaghetti​ you've done so much for me lately. you were there for me when no one else was. I love you and I hope you like this! I also can’t wait for our collab together

Look out for Checkmate on both of our accounts!

(not thoroughly edited)

Member: Bangchan ft. 3RACHA, Jae & Dowoon of Day6

Word Count: 20.2k

Warnings: POV switching, censored cursing, mentions of theft, slight violence, mentions of the mob, sensual themes?

Summary: Y/n L/n has lived her whole life locked up in a fancy penthouse. Chan has spent his whole life living one adventure from the next. When fate brings them together by accident Chan takes on the task of whisking her away from her seemingly perfect life, but little do the both of them know bigger problems arise forcing them on the run.

Genre: Con-artist au!, romance, scammer!au, Non-idol!au, comedy, a little bit of angst?

♛

Y/n’s POV

The sound of violins floated across the grand foyer of my parents' penthouse. Well...my penthouse. Really, the presidential suite of the nicest hotel in Seoul. The older I got the more the luxurious mansion in the sky seemed like a prison instead of a palace. Once again my mother was throwing one of her high society parties. The parties were one of the few chances I got to actually interact with the outside world. My parents were convinced that I was some delicate flower that needed protection and isolation.

The closest I got to the outside world was the balcony in my room.

A man over half my age was talking to me about the stocks my father held in one of the many corporate companies in Seoul. “So, it would mean a great deal to our organization if you could pass the word along to your father.” I nodded and downed the rest of my champagne. Now would have been a great time for friends to come in handy. But, there was no one but myself to save me from this dreadfully boring situation.

“Excuse me, sir,”

The man nodded graciously and let me walk away, my heels clicking across the polished wood floors. A hand grabbed my elbow, yanking me in the opposite direction my feet were moving. “Y/n would you be a dear and go talk to the Minister of Education’s daughter.” My mother’s voice nagged in my ear. Her smile was basically permanently plastered on her painted face. “The two of you would be terrific friends. Also, your father needs more pull in the Cabinet.”

My eyebrow rose as I looked across the room to the Minister’s daughter. “Mother she is eight.”

“Yes and?”

“Can’t I have friends my own age?”

“Yes. When both your father and I are dead. We can’t have you hanging around boys and other bad influences. You could ruin your father’s reputation.” She then took my wrist and spun me around taking in every single inch and fiber of my being. “Darling, who dressed you? You look thoroughly underwhelming.” I rolled my eyes as she started unlatching the heavy and bling filled diamond necklace from her neck.

“Mom-”

“Don’t fuss. Photographers are here tonight.”

My chest instantly gained a little under a pound as the close to twenty-thousand dollar necklace was clasped onto my neck by my controlling mother. After it was safely secured on my neck, my mother pushed me in the direction of the little eight-year-old girl snacking on hour devours. “Hi, you’re Jisoo- right?”

I sighed and prepared to sit next to this tiny little girl for the rest of the evening.

♛

Bang Chan’s POV

Several shouts could be heard behind me as I raced down the hall of the hotel. I can’t believe some people live here permanently. My fingers hurriedly started unbuttoning the black button-down I used to pass off as a waiter. The staff's hall was practically empty as I walked through and tossed the button down onto a laundry cart. I shivered feeling the cold air on my arms. 

My hands latched onto the black backpack I stashed behind a potted plant. I pulled out my flannel and threw it on over my tank top. “There he is!” A quick glance behind me showed three overly buff goons chasing after me. Maybe swiping that dude’s watch was not the best idea. But this was easily like $3,000. He didn’t need it given what I heard the waiter saying his meal cost. “You won’t get away with this!”

“Yeah, that’s what you think,” I whispered, shoving the watch in my pocket. Maybe I should stick to cons and leave the pickpocketing to Jisung. The one time I try and pickpocket I get caught. My pace quickly turned into a run and burst through the nearest door. 

Smells of gourmet food flooded my senses as I weaved through the kitchen. “Where is he?” I pushed passed another waiter, shoving the backpack over my shoulder. Please tell me there is a back door somewhere. My eyes frantically searched for an escape. 

“Ha! Score!”

An old dumbwaiter came into my sights. Most hotels had them but didn’t use the mechanisms anymore. I opened the door and climbed in slamming the up button before closing myself inside. It was close to one a.m so hopefully, the guest in whatever room I ended up in was asleep. 

♛

Y/n’s POV

The party was wrapping up as I trudged down the hall. I had spent the past several hours talking about cartoons and other childlike things with Jisoo. The sound of mt parents talking with some final guests could be heard behind me. A random staff from the hotel walked passed me as my feet carried me down the hall. The hotel usually lent staff to help with our parties.

My tired body pushed the door to my room open to be greeted by the dark and looming space. Moonlight streamed through the patio door that led to my balcony. I kicked off the painful heels my mother forced me into and took out the tight pins and tie in my hair, walking over to the mirror. My hands shook out the tightness and threaded through my H/c strands. 

A large thump had me turning to the far wall. My eyes searched the dark in panic. Blindly, my hands grabbed for an object behind me on my bureau. I looked to see a lamp in my grasp. Well, better than nothing. 

“Hello.....who’s there?”

My eyes picked up on a dark shadow standing up from the floor. My heart pounded against my chest. the shadowy figure hulked on the other side of my room, clearly looking around. “The f***?”   

“Who are you? Stay where you are.” The head turned at my words. I tried to steady my hands and voice; both were shaking. The figure inched closer and I raised the lamp over my head. 

“Oh sh**!” 

The figure made a break for the window and I tossed the lamp. The sound of it crashing against the wall filled the room. I grabbed a heavy candle on my dresser. My eyes searched the dark for his movement but the string of panicked curse words gave away the intruder.

“SUCK ON A EUCALYPTUS MINT CANDLE, YOU THIEF!!”

I heard a loud thud and the room was quiet. There was no movement. Inching forward I saw the body of a boy about my age slumped on the floor. The candle lay about a foot away from his head, the glass cracked. Cautiously, I nudged his shoulder with my foot. When he didn’t stir I started to panic.

“Oh crap. I killed a guy. Now, mom’s never gonna let me leave the penthouse.”

A knock on my door sent me jumping out of my skin. “Y/n? Y/n. Open this door. We heard a crash. Is everything okay? Y/n, open this door.” Smoothing down my hair, I rushed to the door and opened it enough to stick my face out. She studied my face and tried to look passed me. “Y/n, what the hell is going on? You should be going to sleep soon.”

“I’m fine, mom. I just tripped and knocked over a lamp.” 

She rose a brow and folded her arms. “Really? It sounded like more than that.”

I kept my grip firm on the door, knowing she might try to push through. “Yeah. I’ll leave it for Soonyoung to clean up in the morning. I’m gonna shower and go to bed. Night Mother.” Before she could say anything else I slammed the door and locked it. 

Okay. Dead body. In my room. What the heck do I do? Who do I call? I pulled out my phone and opened my contact list. Empty. Okay, so I’m on my own. I paced the floor, staring at the boys with shaggy brown hair. On instinct, I lightly kicked his stomach and he let out a groan. 

Okay, not dead. Good. Not dead. Bad for me. I dragged the chair from my vanity to the middle of the room and grabbed some pantyhose and scarves from my closet. It took all of my might to lift up the heavy boy into the chair. “Good grief. How much does this guy weigh?” 

With a final grunt, I threw him into the chair and started tying him up with the sheer tights. When I was finished I stuffed a scarf in his mouth and looked at my work. “Who is the fragile one now, huh Dad?” I said, hands on my hips. Another soft groan had me jumping across the room and grabbing the heaviest book near me. 

There was no way I could just leave him here. There was also no way I was sleeping in this room tonight. So instead I grabbed a fluffy bean bag and dragged it in front of the chair. I was going to sit and watch this dummy intruder all night. Or....until he woke up.

♛

The sound of a muffled grunt sent me shooting out of the chair. I had fallen asleep while watching the thief. I readied my weapon: The Complete and Full Works of William Shakespeare. I had hurt many a toe dropping this thing.

The boy was looking around wildly before his dark eyes focused on me. “Who are you?” I asked, the heavy book ready to swing. He sighed and nodded his head before I realized what he was referring to. “Oh...sorry.” He sighed when I took the scarf out of his mouth and stretched his neck. 

“I’m Chris.” He replied in English. “Do you speak English?” He asked adjusting in his bonds. I scoffed and kept my Shakespeare weapon at the ready. 

“Yes, I do. But, you speak Korean. I heard you last night. Don’t play with me.”

He sighed and hung his head. When he looked up I saw his stare flash to my neck. His eyes turned to saucers before coming back to my face. “Alright, alright. What do you want to know?” The boy, Chris, answered back in Korean. Slowly, I lowered the book and sat down on the bean bag.

“How did you get into my room?”

“I climbed in the dumbwaiter and got off on a random floor.”

“Why were you in the dumbwaiter?”

Chris looked around my room before turning back to me. “Would you believe me if I told you I had a crazy ex-girlfriend. I’m sure you’ve got a crazy ex or two. I’d do anything to get away from her.” He shrugged his shoulders and plastered on a smile. The kind I had seen all the boys wear in movies. The kind that made your knees go weak.   

“Really? An ex?”

“Yeah.” I watched him gulp and look down at my necklace. 

“Is there something wrong?” He shook his head and looked away, squinting. 

“No. It’s just the sun is bouncing off the rocks on your neck. You trying to blind me or something?” I glanced down at the necklace my mom gave me last night. Then I turned to find the sun rising up above the Seoul skyline. 

“Yeah well....deal with it. You broke into my room.”

“By accident! Look, I’ll be happily on my way if you would let me go. What is this- underwear?” He said struggling against his DIY restraints.  

“Pantyhose.”

My parents would be up soon. My father would be going into the office and my mother would be attending numerous social events to further my father’s reach in the political parties. Or shopping it was a 50/50. “What are you? Sixty?” I scoffed and shoved the scarf back in his mouth. “MMmrrpphphh.”

“Yeah, no wisecracks now, huh?”

“NRRgghhrrgggg!”

“You gonna behave, pretty boy?”

“.....Mmpph.”

Smirking I grabbed the scarf from his mouth and tossed it onto the bean bag.  Chris shot me an annoyed glare. “So, let’s say I believe this whole ex-girlfriend thing. There’s no way I can sneak you passed my parents. Even if they both left early the staff is coming up to clean. We had a sort of gala in honor of my father last night.” I started pacing the floor, the sunrise leaking into my room.

“Oh, a ‘sort of gala’. Unlike a full f***ing gala. Those are for royalty.” Chris mocked in a British accent.

“Shut up.” 

He watched me pace the room and nervously tug at my messy hair. He sighed and hung his head, his chest resting against the tight make-shift bonds. “Look. As long as your parents leave, I’m sure I can make something up with the staff. Then we can go our separate ways and you can go back to shopping in Gangnam or whatever it is girls like you do.”

“I’ve never really been out of the penthouse...so I wouldn’t know what girls like me do.” He blinked at my response. 

“You’ve never left? That’s insane.”

“You haven’t met my parents.”

“I don’t think I want to.” I saw his eyes flick back to the necklace and an idea popped in my head. My fingers dragged across the diamonds and I tried not to break a smile when his eyes widened ever so slightly. 

“You like this don’t you?”

“I mean,” He shrugged, pursing his lips and looking out the huge door that led to my balcony. “It’s not bad. I’ve seen better.” I smirked and gently played with the necklace causing him to glance between me and the window. 

“Oh...I would agree. $20,000 is basically trash. Chump change really. They could have ripped me off for fake diamonds.” Chris’s eyes bugged out of his head.

“$20,000?!” 

I rushed to cover his mouth, looking to the door. “Shhh! My mother is a light sleeper.” After waiting a few moments I brought my hand away from his mouth. His eyes couldn’t help but bulge out at the payday sitting inches away from him around my neck. And I knew it.

My fingers undid the clasp behind my neck and I dangled the necklace in front of his face. It was like dangling a carrot in front of a mule. The diamonds swung back and forth slightly, his eyes tracking every move.

“You want it?”

All he did was gulp and look back up at me. He let out a heavy breath when I backed away still holding up the necklace. “What’s the catch?” He asked, still eyeing the diamonds.

“Take me with you. Get me out of here.” 

“Won’t your parents notice your gone.”

“My mother will miss these diamonds before she’ll miss me. And she won’t even notice they’re gone until tomorrow. She’s got tons of these.”

Chris seemed to be thinking about the deal. I was finally getting my hopes up. I could maybe start a new life. Earn my own way. Have friends. Have freedom. “Okay, are we talking like get you out for the day...or...’get you out’?”

“I can’t stand being here anymore. Get me out. I can always come back if I want to.”

Chan’s eyes followed the bling as I swung it back and forth. “Deal. Untie me.” I dropped the necklace on my dresser and untied Chris from the chair. I saw him make a break for the dresser, but I beat him there, grabbing the necklace. “Hey! Deal is a deal!”

“You haven’t gotten me out of here yet. You aren’t getting this necklace until you completely finish the job. If you know what I mean. And I think you do.” Chan sighed and crossed his arms.

“So you didn’t believe the girlfriend story?”

“Not for one second.”

“Da**.”

“Sorry, pretty boy.”

He backed away from me and shrugged. “Okay, princess. Change out of that freakshow dress and get ready to leave. I’m gonna show you what the world really looks like.” A huge grin overtook my face.

♛

A few hours later I slipped out of my room and stuffed a backpack behind a plant near the door. First I had to sneak Chris passed the staff, then I was one step closer to freedom. Quietly, I snuck back into the room where Chris was lounging on my bed.

“I still don’t know why you want to leave. This thing is the softest blanket I’ve ever felt.”

I scoffed and started grabbing a pair of jeans from my dresser. “Yeah. I would trade freedom for those blankets and everything else in a heartbeat.” Chris sighed and started rummaging through my drawers. Probably looking for more stuff to steal or at least clues about my personality. 

“Is it really that bad?” I nodded and grabbed my favorite shirt and a jacket from my closet. After closing the bathroom door I started to change. “They don’t let you have any friends?”Chris called through the door. 

“I mean, Dowoon and Jae. But, they work for my father. Jae has always been...nice to me. But, my father hardly ever leaves them alone with me.”

A smile twitched on my lips thinking about Jae. He had been working for my father as a PA for almost five years. I had always had a big crush on him, but I could never know if he liked me back. He was always a stickler for my dad’s rules. 

“You ready?” Chris asked as I exited the bathroom fully changed. With a nod,  the two of us headed towards my bedroom door. Cracking it open I verified that the hallway was clear. “Okay let’s blow this popsicle stand,” Chris said as I motioned for him to follow. 

The staff seemed to be minding their own business in other rooms of the penthouse. Chris carefully followed me into the living room, quietly marveling at the crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. My ears picked up on the front door opening. “Get down!” I whispered.

“Where am I supposed to hide? Everything is out in the open?”

“I don’t know just get down!”

Finally, I shoved him behind a white couch and sat on the arm just as a pair of leather shoes rounded the corner. A nervous smile graced my lips seeing who it was. “Y/n? What are you doing out here?” Jae asked. He looked insanely good standing in the pressed black Italian suit. It hugged his lean figure in all the right ways. 

“Uhhhh, Jae? I..uuh-..wanted some air?” I said the first thing that came to mind, instantly regretting it. I heard a groan come from Chris so I carefully kicked my leg behind me to keep him quiet.

“Miss, you have a balcony...”

“Yeah well, the air in here is better than in my room?” Come on Jae, just buy it. 

“Miss, the hallway air is exactly the same as the purified ultraviolet filtered air in your suite. Is the filter broken? Should I check on it?” 

He started advancing towards me but I pressed my hands against his chest stopping him from moving past the couch. My eye darted over to Chan who was quietly watching the whole scene from his hiding spot. “Uh..no! Umm....I just...heard you come in and....wanted to see you...” 

My voice trailed off at the last part and I looked up to see a light dust on Jae’s cheeks. “You wanted to see...me?” Jae’s voice was soft and he chuckled before looking around the room. I saw a thought flash through his mind before he backed away running a hand through his blonde hair. “Well- uh...your father forgot some papers for a deal with China and asked me to come get them.” 

I nodded and shoved my hands in my pockets. This was usually how most encounters with Jae went. Hopefully, he didn’t suspect anything. “Oh...okay. Do you know if he’s gonna be home for dinner.”

Jae shrugged and gave me a smile that screamed pity. “Sorry, I don’t know.” Jae turned around and headed for my father’s office. A few minutes later he came back out a file in hand as well as a briefcase. Jae gave me another smile sending heat to my cheeks and butterflies to my stomach as he existed the penthouse.

The second the front door closed, Chris shot up from his hiding place. “So....you like that guy or something?” He said dusting himself off. I shrugged and stood back up. A hand to my cheek told me my skin was still hot. 

“Oh...that was just Jae. I told you about him earlier.”

“Jae......?”

“Yes, Jae.” I couldn’t help the smile on my face when I said his name. Chris scoffed behind me as I grabbed the backpack I stashed. I glanced back as the two of us walked out the front door and into the hall. “What’s with the attitude?”

“Nothing. It’s just I thought you would have better taste.”

“What?”

“Please. He’s just some pretty boy with skinny chicken legs in a nice suit,” Chris took the lead, as we approached the elevator. He pressed the button for the basement and turned back to me with a smirk. “No muscle on him at all.” 

“Okay, pretty boy. Whatever you say.” Before Chris could make a retort the elevator doors opened and we entered, leaving him fuming. We rode the first two floors in silence. Then Chris opened his mouth.

“You know your little boyfriend was packin’ right?” My eyes went wide and I felt another blush rise to my cheeks. I tried to keep my stare forward. Chris chuckled at my expression.

“He’s not my.....-what do you mean- HOW WOULD YOU KNOW, YOU PERVERT?” 

Chan smirked and rolled his eyes. “No. I mean, your little chicken boy- he had a gun on him. I don’t know any personal assistant who carries that’s all.” Jae had a gun? He was with my father twenty-four seven. Maybe Dad wanted extra protection?

“So, why are we going to the basement?” I asked changing the subject.

Chris handed me a black cap from his bag. “We can’t just go out the lobby doors. Your a chaebol’s daughter. We’re gonna go out the loading dock. I’ve got some friends Itaewon that can maybe help you out.” Nodding, I put the hat on and sighed when I had to tighten it. Before the door opened Chris shoved the brim down over my face and threw an arm over my shoulder. “Pretend to talk about something that pissed you off.”

The doors opened and a couple of busboys stood in front of us. They looked the both of us up and down and then up to me when I started to speak to Chris. “So, this random girl jumps in front of me and steals my cab. Like who the hell does that? I was already late for work and I literally heard her tell the guy to take her uptown. No one works uptown!” Chris smirked and pulled me closer as we walked past the busboys. 

“That sucks, babe.” 

“I know! I was fired for being late. That freaking hag in 705 reported me for being late to clean!” Chris glanced back and then dropped his arm from my shoulder. “Good job, princess. Let’s bounce. The train for Itaewon leaves in fifteen minutes.” 

“Isn’t Itaewon....”

“Yeah. Don’t worry you’ll love it. Jisung does anyway.” 

♛

Bang Chan’s POV

Y/n sat next to me, backpack in her lap. The boys were probably chilling at my place waiting for me so I knew where I could find them. The train doors opened and I motioned for Y/n to get off. She followed me out into the streets of Itaewon. A couple girls at the station called out to me and even to Y/n. She smiled at them, but I pulled her to my side. 

“Don’t talk to them.”

“What, why? I was just being nice.”

“Just keep walking and stay close to me. You’re practically a walking dollar sign.” She shrugged and walked closer to me. No way was I gonna let someone else scam my prize. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Y/n pull out her phone. She called out when I grabbed it.

“Hey, give that back!”

“We’ve gotta scrap it. Parents like yours are bound to have put a tracker on this.” She quieted and let me search through her phone. Sure enough, a quick search through it showed a program embedded into the software. It would take way too long to remove it. My eyes scanned the street we were on and landed on a pair of girls on the street corner. 

Y/n followed me as I walked towards them. “Hey!” Their heads turned and they stood up a little straighter. Their painted lips turned upwards into a smile. “You girls work for Yeji?” One girl nodded and crossed her arms. “Tell her I said hi. Also, here take this. Give it to one of her rookies.”

“And who should I say sent the message,” the girl with pink hair inquired, twirling a strand around her finger. The other pocketed the phone.

“Tell her Bangchan sent it.” The girl nodded and motioned the girl in the opposite direction. “Okay, princess let’s go.” Taking her arm I led her towards the burrows of Itaewon. 

“Who were those girls?” Y/n asked. I ran a hand through my hair as we walked through the streets. I was hoping Y/n didn’t look too out of place. Hopefully, Changbin would have some clothes that might fit her. He was small enough. 

“Well let’s just say Yeji provides girls to people seeking private entertainment.”

“Oh.” 

“Yeah. That’ll be fun for your mom to find.” I heard Y/n laugh behind me. “You think that’s funny?” I asked confused. She shrugged and looked around her. She seemed fascinated by everything around her. It was almost endearing. 

“I think anyone would think that’s funny.”

“Jisung is gonna looooove you.”

A few blocks later we stood in front of a two-story brick building with trees that hid most of the house, and what wasn’t hidden was fenced in by a wall. “You’re a pretty private person, aren’t you.”

“Yeah. Congratulations you are officially the fourth person to know this location.”

I opened the gate door and closed it behind us before walking up to my front door. My fingers quickly entered the key code and the security system beeped letting me know the door unlocked. “DADDY’S HOOOMMMEEE!” Someone screamed inside.

“Who the heck is that?”

“That’s Jisung. Try not to touch him. He may or may not have fleas.”

She chuckled and walked through the door. Jisung lounged across my couch and raised his arms when he saw me. “Chan! Channie! What’s up, dude? Where have you been?” I threw my backpack on the couch and motioned to Y/n behind me. 

“Got a little held up.” Jisung’s eyes went wide as Y/n rounded the corner. He stood up and brushed off what seemed to be Cheeto dust from his jeans.

“Hyung, who’s the chick with the great ass?” 

Jisung started walking towards her but I grabbed the back of his collar pulling him back in front of me. “She’s a payday.” His eyes widened and that mischievous grin lit up his eyes. 

“SHE’S GOT CAKE AND CASH!”

“Shhhhh!”

“My type of woman.”

I rolled my eyes as Jisung continued to ogle Y/n’s backside as she looked around. “Where’s Bin?” Jisung shrugged, his focus still on Y/n. “Hey! Can you not? Look she’s got a huge payday and I might split it with you.” That perked his attention.

“50/50?”

“Try 90/10.”

“60/40?”

“80/20.”

“85/15!”

I paused. “Yeah sure. I’ll split it 85/15. You drive a hard bargain.” Jisung laughed and shook my hand. His blonde hair bounced as he went over to Y/n. I climbed the stairs in search of Changbin. “Yo, Bin! You up here? I’ve got a favor I need.” 

Changbin was indeed upstairs. He was hidden behind multiple computers, typing away at lightspeed. The office door was open allowing me to see him. At my voice, he peeked out from behind the monitors and then returned behind his technological shields. “Chan I’ve done enough favors for you. Remember Gangnam?”

“Yes. I do. And that was very generous of you to help.

“No ‘ands’. No more favors.”

“1,000 bucks?”

“Sold. What am I doing?”

I laughed and sat at the edge of the desk. “YO, JISUNG! GET UP HERE!” Changbin shook his head and continued working on his previous project while Jisung took his sweet time climbing the stairs.”Can you find someone just off a first name?” I asked Bin, as Jisung walked in. 

“I can find someone off the first letter of a nickname.”

“Search for ‘Y/n’.”  I turned to Jisung. “So, what did she tell you?” He shrugged and picked up a random half made device on the desk. 

“Put it back,” Changbin said without looking away from the screen.

“Not much. She just told me you were helping her get away from her parents.” Jisung drummed his fingers on his thigh. The boy had enough energy to power half of Seoul. “So how big are we talking about?” Jisung questioned, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip. 

“Found her,” Changbin said, leaning back in his chair. “This better not be your favor.”

“Already?”

“Her name popped up in a google search along with a picture.” Jisung and I both moved to peer over Changbin’s shoulder. He was right. The screen showed a picture of Y/n in a very nice dress standing next to a very powerful looking man. A man I recognized. My eyes widened as I saw her full name listed under the photo. Y/n L/n. 

“Oh, f***...”

“What? She's loaded.” Jisung said next to me. He took the mouse and clicked on images. He scrolled through all the photos of her at high society parties. “Da**. She is one hot chick.”

“No, idiot. Look at her dad.” Turning I saw Jisung’s face pale. 

“Dude, we are so f***ing dead.”

♛

*Later That Same Night*

Jae’s POV

I stood hands clasped in front of me as I stood off to the side in the L/n dining room. Dowoon stood next to me. We listened to the soft clink of silverware against china as Mr. L/n and Mrs. L/n ate their dinner. “Have you seen Y/n today, honey?” Mr. L/n asked his wife.

She shrugged and continued to daintily eat her food. If I knew anything about her she would be throwing it back up within the next two hours. She was obsessed with image. It made me sick how she always had to control everything. Even Y/n. 

“No. I haven’t. I was out all day. She’s probably still sulking in her room like always.” I tried to hide the frown on my face, but Mr. L/n saw it. 

“Jae. Have you seen my daughter?”

I cleared my throat and glanced at Dowoon. “Yes sir. I saw Y/n-Miss Y/n earlier this morning. She seemed a little off-put.” Mr. L/n sighed and rubbed his temples. 

“Dowoon, please go check on my daughter. I’d like to speak to her.” 

Dowoon nodded and bowed to both the lady and the boss. Without a word he left the dining room and headed down the hall to Y/n’s room. I drummed my fingers against my hand. I hoped Y/n was feeling better. She was acting a little weird this morning. I blushed thinking about what she said to me.

Feeling a tap on my shoulder I turned to see a nervous Dowoon. He leaned in to whisper to me. “Uh, hyung...she didn’t answer the door. I knocked like four times. What do I do?”

“She must still be upset or something. I’ll check on her.” 

Dowoon nodded and went back to his place watching over Mr. and Mrs. L/n. I walked across the penthouse to Y/n’s room and sighed when I saw the lights off from under the door. Gently, I wrapped my knuckles on the door and waited to hear her voice. When I didn’t, I called out for her.

“Y/n?” 

No response.

“Hey, Y/n? It’s Jae. You wanna talk?”

Nothing. Again I knocked.

“Y/n? You okay, beautiful?” 

There was no response. Something was wrong. “Hey, Y/n, I’m coming in.” My hand found the doorknob and turned. I was surprised to find it unlocked. My eyes quickly adjusted to the low light in the room. 

“Oh sh**.” 

The room was empty. She was gone. “Y/n? Please tell me your hiding somewhere, beautiful.” I started searching the room. Under the bed. In the closet (Some of her clothes were missing, but the staff did laundry today). In the bathroom. On the balcony. Then I saw it. The dumbwaiter. It was open. My heart started racing, panic starting to set in.

“Jae is everything okay-”

I turned to find Dowoon standing slack-jawed in the doorway. “She’s gone.” I rubbed the back of my neck. Mr. L/n was gonna kill me. Literally. It wasn’t official, but not only was I in charge of his safety and affairs but also Y/n’s. I can’t believe I didn’t check on her when we got back to the penthouse. This was all my fault.

“What’s that?” Dowoon pointed to the center of the room. I walked over and picked up a cheap pair of headphones from the floor. These weren’t Y/n’s. “Those aren’t hers, right? We’ve gotta tell the boss.”

I nodded, pocketing the headphones and leading my partner back into the dining room. Nervously, I walked up to Mr. L/n and whispered in his ear. “Sir.....we...can’t find her. She’s missing.” I winced, waiting for the storm.

His face reddened and he slammed down his silverware and stood up abruptly, startling the whole room. “Jae. Dowoon. My office. NOW!” Mr. L/n stormed into his study, not waiting for us to follow, which we did. Quickly.

I closed the door after us, knowing exactly what was to be discussed. As I turned around a large hand flew across my cheek, causing me to stumble into a bookcase. I touched my cheek, feeling blood. Mr. L/n adjusted his cuffs, a furious expression on his face. His ring had sliced my cheek. 

He came back with a second blow. Dowoon watched, hiding his fear. I would rather take it than him. “MY DAUGHTER WAS IN YOUR SAFETY.” He screamed, backing away from me. Mr. L/n started pacing, his hand twitching with agitation. “SHE MIGHT HAVE BEEN TAKEN BY ANOTHER KINGPIN!” 

Dowoon and I flinched at his words. “We apologize, sir.” We both bowed low. 

“Jae,” I looked up, hesitantly. “While I am furious...I trust you more than anyone else in the syndicate. If you can find her and bring her back unharmed...I will give her to you. It was in discussion already.” My eyes went wide. I knew there were plans to marry off Y/n. Mr. L/n wanted for her to marry within the syndicate so she could be protected.

“Sir, you mean-”

“Only...if you bring her back to me. I’m hoping your infatuation with my daughter drives you even more to find her. And you WILL find her.”

“Yes sir.” The blood slowly trickled down my cheek. I fought the urge to wipe it away. His eyes bore into me. Mr. L/n was one of the most dangerous men in Seoul and he loved his daughter very much. He had many enemies that wished to harm him and his family, so this job might have been near impossible. But, it was Y/n.

“I will find her.”

♛

Y/n’s POV

Jisung raced out of the room closest to the stairs and leaned over the balcony.

“YOUR DAD IS A F***ING MOB BOSS?!?!?!”

“My dad is a what?” I asked as I watched the wide-eyed blonde boy on the staircase. Chris followed him out and started pushing him down the stairs. Another boy with dark hair, much shorter than the other two, appeared on the landing. He was seemingly unfazed by this shocking news. “What do you mean my dad is a mob boss? He’s a cabinet secretary. He works for the president.”

“I hate to break it to you princess, but that’s not all he does,” Chris said sitting down on the plush sofa in his living room. Jisung stood near me, a tentative and slightly wandering hand on my waist. I slapped it away making the silent boy chuckle. “Your dad runs one of the largest and most dangerous mob syndicates in Seoul.”

“And he doesn’t like Chan too much either.” The silent one said while scrolling through his phone. 

“Changbin, shut up will you?” Chris said throwing a pillow at him.

“I’m sorry, who is Chan?”

The other two boys looked at Chris. Jisung backed away from me and rubbed the back of his neck. Chris hung his head low and half-heartedly rose his hand. “That would be me.” I was very confused. 

“But you told me your name was Chris?”

“Yeah, that’s one of the many names I go by.” I looked to Jisung who just shrugged and gave me a nervous smile. Tension hung in the air. “I’m what some people call a hustler.”

“He’s a con artist. Quit beating around the bush.” The shorter boy, Changbin said.

Chris, or Chan, sighed. “Your dad hired me to scam a couple candidates into giving me their campaign plans. It worked. Piece of cake. But, your dad refused to pay me the agreed amount,”

“Yeah...he can be a little cheap,” I said rubbing my arm and sitting down across from him. Jisung followed like a loyal puppy, listening intently with me, even though he had probably heard this story many times before.

“Anyway, I made the not so great decision and I sort of...swindled $10k from him.”

“That’s nothing to him-”

“And a Porsche.”

“Oh......” My dad was really serious about his cars. I did remember him telling me about someone stealing one of his sports cars about two years ago. “That was you? Jae told me someone swiped it while it was in the shop.”

Chris laughed and Changbin high fived him without looking up from his phone. “Here’s the thing,” Changbin said still laser focused on his screen. “With your dad being who he is, it will be harder to get you under the radar. Your dad has eyes and ears everywhere. I’ve got to completely erase you from the system.” 

I felt a touch on my shoulder and I turned to see Jisung pulling away from me. “Were you smelling my hair?” I asked crossing my arms.

“......No...”

“Jisung can you not be a thirteen year old for a second?” Chris said rolling his eyes. Jisung scoffed and spread out on the couch, purposefully pushing his thigh against mine. He yelped when I slapped it away. “So, Changbin, how long before we can set her up with her new life?”

The boy sighed when Chan pulled away his phone, trying to see for himself what the boy was working on. “I should be able to get off the grid within the next 32 hours. Getting her new ids shouldn’t be a problem. Jisung can swipe me some templates from that guy...what’s his name?”

“Minho?”

“Yeah, him.”

“Minho is not gonna like me ‘borrowing’ his things again,” Jisung awkwardly shifted on the couch next to me. “Last time I barely made it out with my head. He threw a f***ing toaster at me.” I had to stifle my laughter with my hand. 

“Y/n, you can stay here until we get you new ids. I’ve got a house in Jeju we can set you up in after that.” Chan said pushing himself off the sofa. I watched him walk around the back of the couch before he turned back to me again. “Jisung, sleep on the couch tonight. Y/n, you’ll sleep in his room.”

“What! That’s not fair! She should sleep in your room. You’re the one who brought her here!” Jisung stood up from the couch to continue whining but Chan stopped him.

“Who’s the one who accidentally burst all the pipes in their apartment with a boomerang?”

Jisung shuffled back and forth on his heels. “....Me..”

“And who’s the one who has been letting you stay here for the past six months rent-free?” The blonde boy quieted and looked at the ceiling. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” While the conversation seemed light hearted, I knew Chris meant business.

Changbin grabbed back his phone. “You all should sleep. Chan you’ve got that deal tomorrow and Jisung you’ll have to give Toaster Man a visit.” Jisung groaned, stuffing his face in a couch pillow. “I’ll stick around and start working on her stuff.”

Soon everyone dispersed. Jisung showed me to his room like a gentleman. Unfortunately, I had to physically push him out like a four year old. I put my backpack at the foot of the bed. I slipped under the covers and tucked my hand under the pillow only to be met with a couple crumpled up candy wrappers. I laughed and tossed them into the trash can before returning to the bed. Soon, I fell into a deep sleep. 

♛

Jae’s POV

Eighteen hours had passed already. It took me eighteen hours to remember that her mother put a tracker in her d*** phone. Dowoon sat in the passenger seat of my car, a computer in his lap. 

“Turn left up here.”

“What the hell is she doing in Itaewon?”

“They have good fishcakes.” Turning I saw Dowoon’s innocent smile. It fell when he saw my serious expression. We drove in silence for the next few seconds. “Dang it. Now I want fishcakes.”

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. I hadn’t slept since yesterday morning.  In the rearview mirror, I could see the beginnings of dark circles forming under my eyes. I wouldn’t rest until I found Y/n. 

“Okay, the tracker says she’s in that building over there.” I sighed and pulled the car over onto the side of the street. Dowoon and I got out and I squinted in the afternoon sun. The building ahead of us was unmarked but several women, wearing revealing clothes stood out front talking amongst each other. 

“Hey, cutie,” A girl with long red claws said, gently grabbing Dowoon’s arm as we walked past. “You got time to talk?” She twirled a strand of hair around her finger while looking at him with big doe eyes. 

“Actually I-”

“Sorry, we’re working,” I said dragging him away and through the door. 

“What’s wrong? She was being nice? We could have asked her about Y/n.”

“She was gonna give you more than that.” My eyes scanned the large room we entered. Dowoon stood next to me trying to decipher what I just said. Several girls, scantily clad, milled about. Some had men on their arm.

“I don’t get it. What else was she gonna give us?” Dowoon asked confused. I sighed and pressed forward. A girl with blonde hair walked up to me, pressing her hands against my chest.

“Looking for some fun, hot stuff?” I opened my jacket and the girl backed away seeing the gun I had stashed there. “Sh**, a simple ‘no’ would suffice.” The girl walked away and I checked my phone. The tracking program said Y/n was upstairs.

“What is Y/n doing in a place like this?” The thought sickened me. I knew for a fact she wouldn’t be here voluntarily. 

“I don’t know but these all seem like nice girls. Maybe a little cold not wearing a sweater in here. But, they seem friendly.” Dowoon was a great shot. He could shoot an apple off someone's head from an entire building away, but somehow be completely innocent in the weirdest ways.

I checked my phone seeing that the tracker led behind a closed door at the end of the hall. I pulled out my gun and motioned for Dowoon to follow me.  Pressing my ear against the door, I listened for voices in the room. I picked up the muffled sound of a female voice that sort of resembled Y/n. Nodding to Dowoon we burst through the door, guns aimed. 

The girl screamed and rolled off the bed, scrambling to find a sheet or a shirt. “Oh My- Dowoon, cover your eyes.” I blindly grasped his face trying to hide his view. I looked away giving the half naked girl who was not in fact Y/n some privacy. 

“What the f*** is going on here?” The man the girl was with asked. 

“Sir, I need to talk to this woman. Please get out before I decide to make you.” The man’s eyes widened and he quickly ran out of the room. My eyes landed on a phone on the bedside table. I picked it up and saw the case was Y/n’s.

“Hey! That’s mine!” 

I looked up to see a girl with pale pink hair. She had managed to slip on her shirt and now stood furious on the other side of the bed. “This?” I asked holding up the phone, gun still trained on her. “No, this- this is not yours.” Her body obviously tensed up under the barrel of a gun. “What’s your name?”

“Jae, can I look now or?” 

I turned to see Dowoon still with his eyes closed pointing his gun in the opposite direction. I pointed his gun in the correct direction and elbowed him. His eyes opened and he let out a nervous chuckle before he focused on the girl. 

“My name is Irene. Look, that’s my phone. It's used though. I don’t know anything about the previous owner.” I lowered the gun and put it back in its place. 

“Who gave it to you? When?”

“Yesterday. Some guy came up to me and a co-worker. Said he knew our boss, Yeji, and that the phone was a gift.” Dowoon lowered his gun and got out his phone. We would have to report back to the boss soon.

“What did he look like?” 

“What are you cops or something?” Irene said sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“No. We aren’t cops. But, we do have quite a few of the police on our payroll.” She visibly gulped, shifting uncomfortably under my stare. I was so close to finding Y/n, I could feel it. “Now tell me everything you remember about this guy.”

“I don’t know. He had brown hair. He looked like a foreigner, but he didn’t have an accent. I don’t remember his name. He was really cool looking, to be honest. Had that whole boy next door look, but you knew he was a bad guy. In a good way. Oh! He had a girl with him. I remember because she didn’t look like she was from around here and she was way out of his league.”

I listened carefully, a scowl forming on my face. Dowoon noticed my change in demeanor immediately. “You know who he is?” I nodded, turning towards the door. I was furious. Dowoon followed me out the door, eager to hear my answer.

“It’s Chan. Bang Chan. He’s got Y/n. And I’m gonna kill him.”

♛

Y/n’s POV

This morning I woke up early. I wanted to thank the boys for helping me finally leave that hell hole. Their kitchen was useless. Chan had practically nothing stocked and what little food there was Jisung devoured. So, instead in ordered them takeout.. 

Chan was set to come back around the time it got dark. Changbin was still holed up in the Pit, that’s what Jisung called his computer room. Jisung and I had taken over Chan’s living room, takeout, and soda bottles on the coffee table as we screamed at the drama playing on the huge TV.

“NO, YOU LOVE HER DON’T PUSH HER AWAY!” Jisung said as he grabbed onto my arm. Through tears, he reached for another slice of pizza.

“JISUNG WHY ARE WE WATCHING THIS? IT’S SO SAD!” 

He shook his head next to me and wiped his tears. “Because your teenagedom was deprived of sleepovers. And I am dubbing myself your official best friend.” I cried harder not only because Jisung was my new best friend but because the lead actress was chasing her lover through the rain. Jisung and I clung onto each other and continued our rant at the screen.

“Um.....what pre-teen girl tornado blew up in my house?” Turning we saw Chan walking through the front door, a confused look on his face.

“DADDY’S HOME!”

“Jisung stop screaming in my ear!” I yelled as he jumped over the couch. I then took in Chris’s attire. He wore a white coat and he had a stethoscope draped around his neck. His dark brown hair was pushed back and parted, exposing his (as I was just noticing now) handsome features.

“Someone answer my question.”

“I was showing Y/n  what it’s like to actually have fun with people her own age.”

“Since when were you or Y/n thirteen year old girls? What’s that I smell?” Jisung slowly moved his hands behind his back. “Holy sh**. Jisung you let her paint your nails?”

“What are you talking about? Jisung painted mine than practically forced me to do his.” Jisung’s eyes went wide and he turned around and made the shushing motion towards me. “What’s with the getup?” I asked Chris, changing the subject. “You look like a doctor.”

“Oh- it’s just uh....some business I had planned before this stuff happened.” I crossed my arms coming to stand next to my new BFF. Jisung glanced at me before crossing his arms like me and listing his head and pursing his lips.

“You know you can be honest and say you were working a con.”

“Fine, princess. I was working a con. Happy?” I shrugged and patted his shoulder.

Jisung chuckled and gave Chris a thumbs up before throwing an arm around my shoulder. “I think we should all call it a night. I’m starting a new life tomorrow after all!” With that, we left Chris standing in his fake doctor's coat in the living room. 

“Are you guys gonna clean up?”

“Nope!”

♛

A crash sent me shooting up from the bed. “What the hell?” I drowsily asked myself. Another one sent my eyes flying open like saucers. The bed shook and I practically screamed. Jisung shot up from the bed, drool on his mouth and blonde hair sticking up in all directions. 

“Jisung! What the hell? What are you doing in here?”

“The couch was lumpy. What’s going on?”

The third crash sent me rocketing out of bed. Suddenly the door burst open. I grabbed the closest thing which was the lamp on the bedside table. Chan burst through the door in sweatpants but lacking a shirt. 

“Oh- Sh**! WHAT IS WITH YOU AND LAMPS?”

“WHAT IS WITH YOU AND NOT WEARING A SHIRT?” 

“I’M SORRY IF I DIDN’T BOTHER TO PUT ON A SHIRT WHEN YOUR CHICKEN LEG BOYFRIEND IS ATTACKING MY HOUSE!”

“What? Jae is here?” I asked putting the lamp back The sound of gunshots confirmed Jae’s presence. “What is he shooting at?” I asked as I grabbed my shoes and started slipping them on.

“Wait, Jisung what are you doing here? You know what- nevermind. UH- Changbin. He’s throwing plates at your boyfriend and his monkey friend.” Chan started rummaging through the closet and throwing a bag and clothes at Jisung. “Get your stuff, princess. We’re about to make a getaway. Jisung meet us at the hideout in Gwanak. Get Bin out of here after we leave.”

“After? What about us?”

“You are gonna give us a head start,” Chan said pulling me out the door. 

“SO I’M BAIT?”

“Chan, are you gonna leave like this?” I asked, shouldering my bag. A peek over the railing revealed several men in black suits brandishing guns. Except they were clearly thugs and not agents looking for aliens. 

“I’ve got a getaway bag in the car.” He kept a strong grip on my hand and looked around him. He looked up and grabbed a metal pieced of artwork before adjusting our hands. “When I tell you to run, run. Got it? You run for the garage and don’t look back.” I nodded and he held the metal sheet in front of both of us. 

Chan pulled me down the stairs. “Hey! There he is! He’s got the girl!” The pounding sounds of gunshots rang against the metal sheet less than a foot away from my face. 

“Chan! I’m gonna kill you!” I heard the familiar voice of Jae scream. “Y/n! Come on let me take you back to your dad! Come back with me, beautiful.” If Jae really wanted me to come back with him sincerely he would tell Dad’s goons to stop SHOOTING AT CHRIS AND ME. 

“RUN, Y/N! NOW!” Chris yelled just as Jae charged him ripping away the metal sheet he was using as a shield. Following his instruction, I bolted for the garage. When I looked back I turned to see Jae land a pretty hard blow just above Chris’s eye. 

“Chris!” 

“Y/n, GO!” I sighed and burst through the garage door. That little-....There in pristine condition sat my father’s favorite lightning blue Porsche. I tossed my bag in the car and jumped in. My hands frantically searched for the keys. The sound of gunshots had my heart pounding against my chest. I found them in the glove compartment just as Chan burst through the door.

“START THE CAR!” 

“I’m going! I’m going.” 

The car started and Chan dove into the car. I opened the garage door, but it was only halfway up when the garage door opened again. I turned to see Jae and Dowoon in the doorway. Jae was bleeding from the nose and Dowoon hand a pieced of a plate in his cheek. “Y/n-GO!” 

“I can’t! The door!”

“Just GO!”

Screaming, I slammed my foot on the accelerator and the sports car shot forward, erupting through the garage door. “GET IN THE SUVs!” I heard Jae yell back into the house.

“How are Jisung and Bin gonna get out?” I asked keeping my eyes on the road, frantically looking behind me. 

“Don’t worry about them. They’ll meet us in Gwanak.” Chan reached behind him and pulled out a bag from behind the driver's seat. He slipped on a shirt he pulled out from the bag. “Woah! Wrong side of the road! Move over!” Chan screamed grabbing the wheel and steering the car onto the right side of the road. “What’s wrong with you? Do you not know how to drive?”

“NO I DON’T!” 

“YOU’RE DRIVING WITHOUT A LICENSE?”

“YOU SCAM PEOPLE FOR THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS AND YOU CARE ABOUT THIS!?” I said frantically and sporadically looking from the rearview mirror to the road ahead of me as we drove at top speed in the middle of the night. My skin went cold as I saw tow black SUVs appear behind us. “Chan...what do I do? They’re right behind us!”

He turned around and muttered a string of curse words. “Okay...um...We are gonna switch places.” Chris said turning back to me. 

“Chan we are going ninety-three miles an hour!” 

“Do you trust me?”

“.....Yes.”

“Okay, princess. On the count of three, I want you to let go of the wheel and take your foot off the pedal okay?” I nodded and got ready to do as he asked. In my peripherals, I saw Chan reach near my seat and I nervously looked behind me. “Ready, princess?” I nodded and gripped the steering wheel. “One...two...three!”

I let go of the pedal and steering wheel and Chris jerked my seat back and climbed over me. “Great job, love! You can move over to the other seat!” My heart was pounding against my chest. I was sure any second now I would fall into a panic attack. When I was safely in the passenger seat Chris pulled his seat forward and shifted the gear of the car. 

Chan did his best to shake the two tails we had on us. “Your boyfriend is seriously crazy,” Chan said shaking his head, turning down a narrow alley still going at top speeds. I gripped the door handle in fear. “He is seriously determined.”

“Again, not my boyfriend!” I said turning around to check how far away the sedans were. 

“Hold on tight, love,” Chan said, throwing his arm in front of me as we drifted into another tight alley. This time, Chris slid the car to a stop and shut off the lights and engine. “Get down, baby girl.” He said pushing my head down below the windshield. After a few seconds, we heard the SUVs race by us. Chan and I stayed down, his hand on the back of my neck and our heads inches away from each other.

“Well.....that was fun?”

♛

Ten minutes later Chan was pulling into another dark alley. We had finally made it to Gwanak without anyone following us. “Is this the safe house? Where are Changbin and Jisung?” Chris shook his head and shut off the Porsche. 

“No. We’ve got to make a stop first. We’ve gotta go deep undercover. Your face and mine are about to be plastered everywhere.” Chan got out of the car and before I could reach for the handle he was running around the front to open the door for me. “Come on, let’s hope he’s home,” Chris said quickly ushering me to a dimly lit back door.

“Who are we talking about?”

“An old friend,” Chan said pounding on the door. He kept his hand firmly on my waist. Every few seconds he scanned the alley, making sure we were still not followed. “Hey, it’s Chan! Open up!” 

“Chris, we should keep moving. I know Jae. He’s gonna figure out where we are soon enough.”

“All the more reason to be here.” He pounded on the door again. “Dude! Come on! You owe me! Open up!” While Chan continued to yell at the door I watched the ends of the alley, hoping not to see Jae or Dowoon rounding the corner.

“I’m coming, I’m coming. F***...” A muffled voice said from behind the door. Chan stepped back from the door and took my hand, dragging me further into his side. “F***ing sh**. Chan, d*** it. It’s two a.m!” An angry voice said as it approached the door. I flinched as it flew open. A giant of a man with bright red hair and dressed in a fancy robe appeared. “What, pipsqueak?”

“BamBam. Long time no see.”

“What do you want, Chan? I was asleep-.....who’s this hottie?” The cherry headed man, BamBam, said leaning on the doorway looking me up and down. 

“This is Y/n L/n,” Chan said his hand gripping onto my hip. BamBam’s eyes went wide and he slammed the door in our faces.

“NO! NO! I AM NOT DEALING WITH L/N’S SYNDICATE. NO. CHAN YOU CAN’T MAKE ME. A FAVOR IS SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE BORROWING SUGAR. NOT BRINGING THE MOST DANGEROUS MAN IN SEOUL’S DAUGHTER TO MY DOOR!”

“BamBam you barely eat carbs let alone processed sugar.” The door opened and he stuck his head out. “Come on, Bam. We need your help. Or at least your bathroom.”

“Bathroom?” Both BamBam and I both questioned. 

♛

“What is this place?” I asked as BamBam lead us through the first floor of the building. It was covered head to toe with clothes and hats and crazy objects. 

“It’s my personal treasure trove. Everything your man Chan uses for his little schemes most likely came from here.” BamBam said picking up a policeman’s uniform and throwing it behind another rack of clothes. The giraffe with red hair rummaged through the piles of clothes and costumes. “Here, Chan. You need this.....and Y/n.....look through these.” BamBam tossed Chan a brown bottle and handed me a container with a bunch of hair in it.

“Wigs?”

“Don’t worry. They’re all the finest synthetic hair. Bathroom is back there, you two.” He said pointing a long finger in the correct direction. I smiled and tightened my hold on the box Chris’s weird friend gave me. “Stay as long as you need. I’m going back to bed.” BamBam dragged his feet up some stairs that probably led to where he was previously sleeping.

“You wanna help me with this, princess?” Chan said holding up the brown bottle in his hand. I shrugged and followed him to the back of the building. My eyes trailed down Chan’s shoulders as we looked for BamBam’s restroom. “Ah, here we go.” Chan opened the door and let me enter first. I dropped the big box on the toilet seat and started searching through them.

I heard Chan pull a chair into the bathroom from the hall. “Why does BamBam have all these? Chan shrugged and searched something up on his phone. “There are some weird colors in here.” He laughed as I threw a neon green wig at him.

“Oh yeah. That’s perfect for you, princess.” He laughed and tossed it back. “Have you ever bleached hair before?” Chris said looking at the bottle. I laughed seeing the familiar brown bottle of hydrogen peroxide. The bottle was a familiar sight from my mother’s bathroom counter. 

“Not personally.”

“Do I just like...pour it on?”

“If you want to permanently fry your hair! We can’t damage those cute curls you’ve got.” 

Without thinking I ran my fingers through Chris’s dark brown and tangled mop. His eyes looked me up and down, a small smirk. “Cute?” He asked, poking my side. He laughed when a rosy dust fell on my cheeks. “You want to help, princess?”

Chan sat down in the chair and handed me the brown bottle which I immediately put down. I looked around and grabbed two bottles from the shower. Chan watched me struggle to get the cap open like an idiot. “You good there?”

“This plastic bottle of.....designer conditioner....is smarter than me.” Chris laughed and reached for the bottle. In less than a second, the bottle popped open for him. He laughed when I sent him a glare. “I loosened it for you.”

“Sure, baby girl. Whatever.” He leaned back in the chair and looked at the ceiling,  a genuine smile on his face. Heat flushed to my face at the new pet name. Chan seemed unfazed by it. Nervously, I turned on the sink and began washing his hair. “What’s your favorite candy?” Chan asked as I was rinsing the conditioner out of his hair. 

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I’m bored. Entertain me, princess.”

“Okay...um...I like Milkyways.”

“Milkyways? Really?” 

“You bash my candy choice, pretty boy, and I’ll make sure your hair turns orange.” He laughed, his eyes turning into crescents. Chan continued to ask me random questions while I bleached his hair. It was fun getting to know Chris...well the real Chris. “You must really be dedicated if your bleaching your hair.”

“Bleaching my hair....or dying at the hands of your boyfriend. I choose the former.”

“Again. Jae is not my boyfriend.” I said squeezing hydroperoxide into his hair. Thank goodness BamBam had gloves in a cabinet otherwise my hands would be messed up. “Jae is just Jae.” I was surprised when I didn’t feel myself smile as I said his name. 

I took off the gloves as Chan sat forward, waiting for his hair to dry. “What’s the deal with you two anyway.” He asked poking my arm. “You two were totally into each other back at the penthouse.”

“Well...I think my feelings have changed after he shot at us.”

“Well, he was mostly shooting at me.”

“Yeah...guess he was, pretty boy.” I smiled looking down at Chan. He grabbed my hand and swung it back and forth. I glanced down and then back up at him. 

“Hey...it’s gonna be okay, Y/n. I’ll take care of it.” I scoffed and rolled my eyes. He tugged on my wrist. My feet shuffled forward making me stand between his legs. Chris brushed his thumb over my hand. 

“Take care of what?” 

“Of you. I’ll make sure you get what you want.” Chan stared up at me with a look I had never seen before. It was hard to tear my eyes away from him. Like he had this hold on me. But, I felt safe with him. I felt fully myself. “We’ve got twenty minutes. Why don’t you try on some of those wigs? Put on a little fashion show for me, baby girl?” He said with a smile, leaning back in the chair, his hand still attached to my wrist. 

Chan laughed as I tried on all the crazy wigs BamBam had in the box. After his phone timer went off, I helped Chan wash his hair again. Then he let me towel dry his hair. “Woah,” I said, pulling the towel away. 

“Is it that bad?” He asked standing up and rushing to the mirror. He ran his fingers through his new blonde hair and he stared into the mirror at his locks. 

“No...you look really good.” 

He smirked and messed with the new blonde strands before turning to me with a bright smile. “You think so?” His hands rested on my waist, his thumbs grazing over the fabric of my t-shirt. There was a tension in the air. One that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. 

“Yeah, I do...” 

Hesitantly, I let my palms press against his chest. Was he going to kiss me? I could feel my stomach start to do somersaults. Chris leaned down, only barely enough for me to notice. He was. Chan was going to kiss me.

“HEY LOVEBIRDS! I NEED TO PEE!” BamBam said pounding on the door. 

The two of us burst apart, Chan scratching the back of his neck. “We should probably....- Bin and Sung are probably waiting for us.” Chris nervously grabbed my backpack and I grabbed the closest wig to me, stuffing my hair inside it. 

“Yeah totally.”

Chan opened the door for us to find a pissed off BamBam. “Can I pee now?” Chan laughed and took my hand, pulling me out into the hall. 

“Thanks for letting us hideout and stuff!” Chan called back to his friend who was already in the bathroom. Chris pulled me back out the Porsche, which was still sitting safely in the alley. Like a gentleman, Chan opened my door before sliding across the hood and getting in the driver seat.

He spared me a glance and cast a smile my way. “Short and Dark is a good look on you.” I brushed the wig’s bangs out of my eyes and blushed, turning away from Chan as he started the car and drove off into the early morning.

♛

Jae’s POV

“F***!” I exclaimed slamming my hand on a nearby table. Stressfully, I ran a hand through my hair. Dowoon just stood off to the side, awkwardly watching our guys rummage through the house. 

“That did not go the way I expected.”

Daggers flew from my eyes. He instantly shut his mouth. “Dowoon...she was right here. I missed her. She just...slipped through my fingers.” Dowoon waved off a man who was trying to ask him a question before turning back to me.

“You know she more ran...than slipped.”

“You’re right. She did run away.” I said standing up straight once again. “She practically flew when Chan told her to run.” My eyes returned to the door I watched Y/n run out of. 

“Why do you think she ran?”

“Chan’s probably got her brainwashed or something. I wouldn’t put it passed him.” I reached for the mail that was left on the kitchen counter. “Remember I want this entire place searched!” I called out to the men. “Man, she knew I was here for her. Why didn’t she come to me?” I said tossing it onto the marble island.

“Maybe she’s just not into you dude.”

“No. That’s not it. It’s got to be Chan. He must have told her everything about her dad and then freaked her out. It’s all his fault.” Dowoon, sifted through the week-old envelops I had tossed.

“What’s this? Does this Chan guy go to university?”

“What- no?” I scoffed and leaned against the counter. “He barely has his highschool diploma.” I watched Dowoon pick up a magazine and flip it over.

“Maybe one of the guys that were here. The blonde one looked kind of young...and dumb.” Dowoon flipped through the magazine smiling at some of the pictures.

“Why do you ask?”

He shrugged and tossed it to me. I flipped through the magazine and saw it was a college-based magazine. Student made. “Well...that magazine is only sold in Gwanak. Near Seoul University.” My eyes went wide and I looked at the cover of the magazine. 

“I’ve got a call to make. We need another pair of eyes.”

“More than the thirteen guys we have now.”

“I just want her back Dowoon...” I said pulling out my phone. I scrolled through my contacts until I found the one I needed. Pressing the name, I brought the device to my ear and waited for the dial tone to end.

“Hey. It’s me. Look, I need you to find someone. This asshat took her...She’s somewhere in Gwanak, we know that.” I listened to him speak while drumming my fingers on the counter.

“Yeah. You’ll get the money when you get her and bring her safely back to me.” I pursed my lips, feeling myself getting angry as he asked his next question.

“I don’t care what happens to the guy she’s with. Just get her back.” With that, I hung up the phone.

♛

Chan’s POV

Jogging around the blue car, I opened Y/n’s door and helped her out. She grabbed her bag and started walking towards the dark apartment building. The sun would be rising in a couple of hours. I reached for her hand and led her up the stairs to the top level. 

She laughed when we came to the door. “Another passcode? Mr. Privacy?” I smiled and shrugged my shoulders, taking her backpack for her. 

“The code is #0325.” She turned to me and smiled. 

“You trust me with the code to your safehouse?” I shrugged and tried to hide the smile on my face. I watched as her fingers touched each number gingerly on the keypad. She smiled when the bright tone notified her that the door was unlocked.

“Y/N’S HOMMMMMEE!” Jisung yelled. I heard his feet thundering down the small hall. I rolled my eyes when Jisung tackled Y/n out of my grasp, hugging her tightly. With serious eyes, he turned to me, still holding onto Y/n. “From now on, Y/n and I are inseparable! You will not drag her into messes and get her killed! She is my best friend!”

I sent Jisung a hard glare and took one step towards him making the blonde squeal, hiding behind Y/n. “Sorry, Chan. Nevermind take her she’s yours. I can see now that I clearly overstepped my boundaries.” Jisung said, words flying out of his mouth faster than I could comprehend. 

“What’s going on?” Y/n asked. I saw Changbin saunter into the hall and join us. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and face stoic.

“Don’t worry. Chan just wants you all to himself.” The short boy said smirking at me.

“WHAT?!” Both Y/n and I exclaimed looking from each other to Changbin. Y/n turned to me, a curious look on her face. The same one from when we first met, except this time my head didn’t hurt.

“Well...this isn’t awkward at all,” Jisung said, coming out from behind Y/n. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and puffed out his cheeks, looking around the four of us. “Hey, Y/n, lemme show you something!” He practically dragged her out from the hall and towards the bedroom. Fearing for what he did to my apartment, I followed.

“So, what is it you're showing me, Sung?” Y/n asked and Jisung guided her into my room. Wait. Sh**. My room.

“This was originally Chan hyung’s room, but I figured with a few touches you would like it better! I figured since he loves you and all he can sleep on the sofa.” They entered the room a few feet ahead of me. “It’s his turn to have back problems. Y/n gasped. I rounded the corner and my jaw dropped.

“JISUNG, WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO MY ROOM? HOW DID YOU EVEN GET ALL THIS?”

My room was plastered with posters and pictures of unicorns and rom-com movie posters. It looked like a fourteen year old girl from a Disney channel sitcom threw up their essence all over my bedroom. There were boyband posters and albums everywhere and heart shaped hangers in the closet. My clothes were in a huge black pile in the corner marked ‘Chan’s Sh**’. One wall on the far side was spray-painted pink and stuffed animals were all around the room. 

“When did you have time to do all of this? We got here two hours after you! Where did this all come from?” I said picking up a Super Junior album that was sitting on what used to be my dresser.

“You’d be surprised,” Changbin said standing in the doorway. 

I sighed and turned to Jisung. He turned to me with an innocent smile as I grabbed him by the arm and pulled him out into the hall while Y/n continued to marvel at the room. “Sung...you do understand she’s not staying right? We are just helping her get to Jeju so she can start a new life.” He stared down at the ground, fiddling with the rings on his fingers. His light blonde fell in front of his eyes as he looked back up at me.

“You don’t really want that...do you?” 

I looked into his eyes. My friend looked genuinely sad. No, that wasn’t what I wanted. Not now at least. Maybe before, but it wasn’t what I wanted now. “What I want doesn’t matter. It’s what she wants.” I said patting his shoulder. “Do you understand?”

“Yeah...of course...”

Jisung sulked back into my room, which I would be burning after Y/n went to Jeju. “Jisung! Thank you so much! I love it!” Y/n said hugging a huge stuffed toy.

“Sung, how did you even pickpocket a three foot tall stuffed rabbit and four B.A.P posters?” I asked looking at the toy Y/n was holding in her arms. I tried to suppress the thumping against my chest at the sight. 

“Chan I don’t remember asking for your opinion, but it’s called talent, okay?”

Y/n laughed and set the bunny down next to my bed. She gasped and picked up a heavy purple candle on the bedside table. “Oh, a candle! I love these! I always had candles and stuff like that in my room at home!” I saw Jisung’s face turn soft and he ran out of the room.

“HOLD ON ONE SECOND!” He screamed through the less than small apartment. He returned with a hand full of candles. 

“Oh no no no no no,” I said pushing him back out of the room. 

 “What? Y/n says she loves candles.’ Jisung said shrugging and trying to push past me and back into the bedroom, where we heard Changbin and Y/n talking. 

“Jisung I will not have candles in my house after she attacked me with one!”

“What about incense?”

“NO SMELLY THINGS!” I shivered at the thought of what Y/n could accidentally do to me with burning incense. My eyes found Y/n walking out of the room holding the lit candle, her eyes happy. 

“Chan, thank you so much for helping me and for all of this! And Jisung, I really love the candle.” With that, she went back into the room and jumped onto the bed.

Jisung turned back to me with his eyebrows raised. I crossed my arms and then looked back to Y/n sitting happily on my bed watching the candle flicker happily. I felt Jisung nudge me bringing my attention back to him. “Okay...one candle.”

“Bro, you are so whipped.”

“Shut up before I throw you off the roof with all those candles strapped to your head.”

“You wouldn’t...”

  ♛

Y/n’s POV

Chan slept in his room that night. Well, he rested. He said it would be hard to sleep with all those pop stars and animals staring at him. I had told him I wasn't tired, so I scrolled through the phone Jisung had pocketed for me. 

When the boys awoke a few hours later, I had prepared breakfast for them. This place was actually stocked with food. I gasped seeing Jisung emerge from the guest room. He had bruises on his shoulder and the strong scent of candles came from him. 

“Sung, what happened to you?” I said taking his face in my hands. He glared at Chan as he exited his bedroom and sat down at the kitchen table. 

“Ask your newly blonde boyfriend.” He said sitting in the farthest seat from Chris. 

When I turned to Chan he just gave me a sweet smile and turned back to the breakfast I had made. “This is good, princess.” He said slipping a strawberry into his mouth. I blushed and sipped on the mug of tea I had made earlier. 

“So, what’s the plan today?” I asked, setting the cup down.

Chan took a sip of the orange juice in the glass near him and looked to me. “Changbin still needs templates to get you IDs. Jisung knows where to get some, but I’m not gonna leave you here so you’ll come with us to the meeting.” I nodded and took another sip of tea.

“Sounds good.”

“We’ll leave in like...an hour?” Chan said.

 Jisung turned to me, mouth full of toast and berries. His eyes turned down and his cheeks were full, but somehow he still managed to frown with toast sticking out of his mouth. “I’m gonna need more than an hour. It’s just too good.” Jisung muttered with his mouth full.

“Fine. Y/n just go get ready, princess. Don’t forget the wig.”

♛

The black bangs of the wig kept blowing in my face. It was about noon when we finally left Chris’s apartment. “Stay right here, princess. Jisung and I are gonna go pick up the templates.” Chan said stopping in front of one of the many stalls around us. He had taken us to a local thrifting fair. A bunch of college students milled about, helping us blend in. 

“Okay, what should I do while I wait.” 

“I know the shop owner, so they’ll let you stay at the booth.” His hand rested gently on my arm as he spoke to me over the noise of the crowd. “Just pretend you are looking for a gift.” He motioned to the wares the vendor was selling. “I’ll be back soon. If someone asks, just say you’re waiting for your boyfriend or something.” 

Chan and Jisung left and I watched them disappear into the crowd. Running my fingers through the short locks of the wig I waved to the vendor who sent me a polite smile. There was plenty to look at from the booth. The woman was selling very pretty handmade silver jewelry.

I picked up a very simple chain necklace with a small silver ring on it. I thought about how nice it would look on Chan. Maybe I had enough cash with me to get it for him?

“That’s very pretty.” A voice said behind me.

A man came to stand beside me. He had shaggy black hair and a boxy smile. His long fingers picked up the necklace and held it up to the light before gently giving it back to me. “Thank you,” I said, keeping my answer short.

“Is it for you or is it a gift?” The boy asked again.

I sighed and avoided looking at him. “Um...a gift.” He nodded and began looking at other necklaces. Every so often he would cast a look my way. 

“I’m Wonpil, by the way.” I nodded and gave him a tight-lipped smile. Why would he not go away? I put the necklace down and moved further down the table, pretending to look at other things. “What’s your name?”

“Uh...Jessica...”

I said turning back to the table. He nodded and moved down the row as well. He moved o the other side of the table to look there. However, he was clearly intent on talking to me. “So, Jessica...are you here by yourself, or are you with friends?” I nervously laughed and looked in the direction Chris left.

“I’m here with my boyfriend. I’m waiting for him to come back.” 

Wonpil gave me a kind smile and went back to looking at jewelry. I glanced up at the boy. There was something off about him. He was just barely too old to be a university student. Maybe he just lived near here?

“So, is it a gift for him?” I nodded, then turned my attention to the box of rings near the middle of the table. “What’s his name?” Should I give Chris’s name? No. That would be a bad idea. I don’t want him to get hurt.

“His name is Chanyoung.”

Wonpil nodded and continued pursuing the wares and jewelry. Come one, Chris. Where are you? “Has he been gone long? You seem nervous.” I laughed and shook my head.

“He and our friend just went to go pick up something. He’ll be back...any minute now.”

“I’ll wait with you if you’d like?” Wonpil suggested, that kind smile on his face. He came around my side of the table and placed a hand on my shoulder. I shook my head and backed away.

“I’m fine, really-”

“Hey, baby girl! Sorry to keep you waiting.” I felt a strong arm wrap around my waist and lips press against my cheek. I turned to see Chan with a cool and composed smile on his face. “We didn’t mean to be gone for so long.” His hand came up to my cheek and he pressed his lips against mine like he had done it thousands of times before.

Not wanting to break the charade I closed my eyes and let him kiss me. Chan pulled away and pecked my lips once more before Jisung coughed and gently kicked him. “Oh- sorry. I’m her boyfriend. Who are you?” Chan said holding out his hand to shake.

“Oh, you're Chanyoung. I’m Wonpil.” They shook hands and I could see Chan’s face sour for just a second. His eyes glanced at me and then doubled back. 

“Oh, baby, you’ve got a bug on you!” 

“I’ll get it!” Jisung shouted, eyeing my shoulder. He swatted the bug away, grabbing it in his fist. I looked at the two boys wondering what was going on. “Hey, we’ve got lunch plans so we should go soon,” Jisung said, sticking his hands in his pockets.

“Did you get what you needed to get, baby?” I asked, palms pressing against Chan’s chest. His grip was still firm around my waist, keeping me as close as possible.

“Yeah! Let’s go get lunch, baby girl.” Chan said kissing me again. “It was nice to meet you Wonpil,” Chris said waving goodbye before steering me in the opposite direction of the booth. Jisung followed us and sped up to keep our pace. “Y/n, who was that guy?”

I shrugged and looked back. Wonpil was no longer at the booth. “I have no clue.” Chan shook his head and gripped my side tighter. 

“He’s gotta know who you are.” The three of us walked through the streets of the thrift fair quickly hoping to evade whoever it was Wonpil actually turned out to be. “He actually planted a bug on you. That’s why Jisung and I freaked out.” I shivered. My feeling about Wonpil had been right. We walked a little further before Jisung spoke up again.

“So...like, can we actually get lunch though?”

♛

The little bell rang as the three of us entered a little sushi shop Jisung knew about. “Jisung didn’t you have sushi like four days ago?” He shrugged and led us to a secluded booth in the back. A few waitresses waved at him as we passed by.

“Chan, you can never have too much sushi. Plus I get discounts here.” 

“How do you get discounts?” I asked.

“Used to date the owner’s daughter. She dumped me. He still liked me so... free sushi.”

I nodded, still not quite understanding as I slid into the booth. Chan scooted in next to me, his leg just barely touching mine. My hands reached for the menu, but Jisung quickly whisked them away. “Nope. I’m ordering for us.” Chan laughed and pressed his hands to his temples. The waitress came by and Jisung ordered practically everything on the menu and sake.

“Jisung that is a lot of food.”

“I’m a lot of hungry.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Chan said throwing his arm over the back of the booth. Jisung shrugged and started blowing bubbles in his water with the straw. “You are such a child,” Chris said laughing.

“Speaking of, I need to pee,” Jisung announced. I grounded and shoved my face into my hands. Jisung hopped out of the booth and shuffled to the restroom. That left me and Chris...alone.

“So...”

“So...”

We looked at each other and burst out laughing. “You kissed me,” Chan nodded and looked away. I was surprised to see a dark blush on Chan’s ears. “Thank you. For saving me from whoever that guy was.” Chan shrugged, a shy smile lighting up his face. His fingers tapped against the booth. 

“My pleasure.”

“Your pleasure saving me, or your pleasure kissing me.”

“Would you be mad if I said both?” 

It was my turn to blush and look away. My fingers locked onto the cold glass filled with water and I took a heavy sip, before turning back to Chris. “Not...entirely,” I said unable to keep the smile from leaking onto my lips. Chris looked around the restaurant before looking back at me.

“Would you be mad if I did it again?”

“Not entirely,” I said, a smirk flirting its way onto the corner of my mouth. 

I felt Chan’s other hand reach for min under the table, making me smile. “If I kiss you, you promise you won’t whack me with like a lamp or something right?” I laughed and rubbed my thumb across his hand. He smiled when I shook my head ‘yes’. Slowly he leaned closer until he was only a breath away. 

“You gonna make me wait for it, pretty boy, or what?” 

He let out a soft breathy laugh before connecting his lips to mine. He tasted like the strawberries from this morning; sweet and decadent. Chris deepened the kiss and laced his fingers with mine. My heart pounded against my chest as his lips ghosted over mine. He pulled away just long enough to smile before coming back for more. It felt like Chan and I were the only two people in the world.

“WHY THE F*** ARE YOU KISSING MY BESTFRIEND?!”

I heard a loud clang and several shouts and pulled away to see Chris grasping the back of his head and Jisung standing there holding a waitress’s tray. “What the hell man?” Chan exclaimed.

“STOP! KISSING! Y/N!” Jisung said, whacking Chris each time.

“Jisung! Chill out! I wanted him to!” I said to the tray maniac in front of me. “It’s okay! I wanted him to kiss me.” Jisung slowly lowered the tray, giving Chris a wary eye. Chan rubbed the back of his head and I cupped his face checking to see if anything was bleeding.

“Okay...fine. Sorry. I got a tad bit overprotective.” Jisung said completely lowering the tray and sitting back down. “Oh- here this is yours.” He said handing the metal tray to the confused waitress. “Don’t worry, I’ll leave a big tip!” Jisung said with an innocent smile as if nothing ever happened.

Nervously, the waitress walked away to get our food. Now, safe from Jisung’s wrath, Chris gently reached for my hand under the table. I smiled feeling his thumb gently rub circles on my skin.

“Jisung, don’t you think that was a little overkill?” Chan asked as the waitresses set down mountains of sushi in front of us. He shook his head and dived into the flavorful bites.

“Not at all. A psychic once told me my spirit animal was a vicious chihuahua.”

“I can attest to that,” Chris said before placing a roll onto my plate. I smiled at him and ate the piece. “Okay, let’s eat and get out of here.” We all nodded and ate quickly, enjoying every bite.

“I don’t know if they’ll let me back in here,” Jisung said after we paid the bill.

♛

The three of us rode back to the safe house in the Porsche, Jisung sat with his legs squished to his chest in the back. When we got out Chan punched in the code and we all spilled across the living room in food comas.

“What happened to you guys?” Changbin said wandering into the living room.

“Sushi coma,” I said laying across Chan’s lap. Changbin nodded as if completely understanding. I looked over to see Jisung lying face down on the sofa, his butt sticking up in the air. 

“Did you guys get the templates?”

Without speaking Jisung started rummaging around his pocket until he pulled out what looked like a blank passport and ID card and raised it in the air. His head was still thoroughly buried in the cushions.

“Great. I should have these done in like...four hours. Then you can start your new life.” Bin said checking the templates. I watched him leave the room before staring back up at the ceiling. My fingers tucked under the hairline of the wig and I pulled it and the wig cap off my head. 

“I like your natural hair better than that old thing,” Chan stated, pulling the hair tie from my updo. He ran his fingers through my hair, shaking it loose as I stared up at him. “You better not change it too much once you get to Jeju.” I laughed and tossed the wig onto the coffee table. 

“Y/n, do you really have to go?” Jisung whined. He had turned his face just enough so he could speak without sounding like he had cotton balls in his mouth. “I’m going to miss my new best friend so much!” 

“I don’t think it’s safe for you all here. The longer I’m with you the more Jae is going to come after me.” 

Jisung sighed and put his butt down, fully laying on the couch. Chan and Jisung eventually fell asleep in their places, but I stayed awake thinking about what was to come. I was less excited about leaving Seoul than I was before. Jisung was in Seoul. Changbin was in Seoul. Chan was in Seoul. I would be in Jeju. All by myself.

I felt like they were my family now. Chan stirred in his sleep, his fingers twitching on top of my stomach. Gently, I traced light patterns on the back of his hand. “Did you not sleep?” He asked drowsily, lifting his head.

“No.”

“Thinking about Jeju?” I nodded and played with his fingers. It was easy to tell I was nervous. “You know, Yn,” He whispered, wrapping his hand around mine. “I could always stay with you the first couple of days. Just to make sure everything is alright of course.” Chan shrugged, but couldn’t stop the little smile edging itself onto the corner of his mouth.

“Oh, of course. Just to make sure everything is alright.”

“Yeah, just for that.” 

I laughed, keeping it quiet hoping not to wake Jisung. “Oh, I have something to give you. Actually two things.” I said, getting up from the couch. Chan watched me bring my backpack from his bedroom and sit back down next to him. He waited patiently as I dug through the bag. “Here is the first,” I said. Chan’s eyes widened when I pulled out the diamond necklace.

“But, I haven’t gotten you to Jeju yet?” I shrugged, placing it in his hands. 

“You’ve already been through so much for me.” He looked from me to the jewels in his hands. He gently placed it on the coffee table, before pulling me close and kissing my cheek. “And... the second thing. Hold on.” I tried to hold back my grin as I pulled the silver chain out of my pocket.

“Where in the world did you get this?” Chan said, as I delicately placed the necklace in his hand.

“Jisung may have taught me a few things. It’s from the booth you left me at.” He laughed and looked at the simple piece of jewelry. “It’s nothing much. I just saw it and thought of you. It can be something to remember me by.”

“Baby girl it will be near impossible to forget you.” I smiled as he traced his finger along my jaw, bringing me closer. His lips brushed over mine, sending butterflies into wild flight patterns in my stomach.

Chan pulled away, a soft smile lighting up his eyes. I watched as he draped the necklace over his neck. “Would you really come with me to Jeju?” He nodded, his grin growing as I cupped his cheek.

“Guys get a room. Some of us are trying to take a nap!” Jisung said throwing a cushion at us.

♛

I looked at the passport and ID in my lap. Changbin had done an incredible job. These looked immaculate. My fingers brushed over my imprinted picture. “You take a pretty good photo,” Chan said, glancing over at me with a smile. 

He sat beside me in the driver’s seat of the Porsche, watching the road. “I’m sure you do too.” Chan shook his head, checking the rearview mirror.

“Nah. No pictures. Part of my job description.” 

“You don’t have any pictures of yourself?” I laughed bewildered, as he shook his head. Chan shrugged, pulling into the line for cars to board the ferry. “How far away are we?” Chris let out a hefty sigh, dropping his hands from the steering wheel as we inched forward closer to the boat. His fingers reached over and held onto mine.

“Um...I’d say about forty-five minutes on the boat and another twenty to get to the house.” Chan leaned his head against the seat, rubbing his thumb over the back of my hand. “You’re almost there, Y/n.” I turned in my seat, leaning against the headrest.

“Thank you, Chris. For everything.” The blonde shrugged it off, a shy smile spreading to his cheeks. Soon we made it onto the boat. Chan parked the Porsche near the bow of the ferry. With both our stomachs rumbling, Chan went up to the top deck before bringing us back down cheap slices of pizza.

The radio played softly while Chan and I laughed and ate the subpar pizza in his car. I giggled when Chris took one of the crusts from my plate and stuffed it in his mouth. “Don’t steal my food!” 

“Can I steal something else then?” Chris said turning to the setting sun.

“If you’re gonna say something cheesy like my heart, I’ll toss you over the railing.”

He laughed, taking my hand again. “Fine, I won’t.” I played with the silver bands and rings around his fingers. It felt so normal to be with Chris. Everything about him felt...good. Wonderful. “Please let me finish! Y/n I haven’t been cheesy in so long.” He almost whined, bringing our hands up to his forehead. 

“Fine...” I groaned though a smile was still creeping its way onto my face. “What are you going to steal then?” I said cringing and closing my eyes. They opened when I felt his hand on my jaw.

“First I was thinking, a kiss...” His lips ghosted over mine, leaving a lasting sensation when he pulled away. “Then maybe another...” His lips pressed against mine again, his thumb running over the back of my hand. His forehead rested against mine. “Why don’t you just give me your heart?” He whispered,

“Why should I do that, pretty boy?” 

He smiled, glancing at the sunset before his eyes looked back into my own. “Because you already have mine.” My teeth dragged across my bottom lip, desperately trying to hide the grin I was threatening to give him. Tilting my head, I pressed a kiss to his cheek and then again on his jaw. 

“Do I really now?” Chan nodded his head softly. His eyes twinkling in the setting sun. “Well, that was fast,” I whispered before leaning forward and kissing him.

♛

The sun was almost gone from the sky when we pulled up to the house in Jeju. I was surprised to find it right on the beach. The house was lined with huge windows on every side facing the ocean. “Chan, you can’t be serious right? This is yours?” 

I watched him come around to my side of the Porsche. “Nope. It’s not mine.” He said wrapping his arms around me from behind. He smelled like cinnamon. His long fingers wrapped around mine before pressing something into my palm. “It’s yours, baby girl.”

Opening my hand, I saw a set of keys. “Chan this house...it must have cost a small fortune. I can’t take this from you.” He shrugged, kissing my shoulder. 

“I’ve got the one in Itaewon. The apartment in Gwanak. And maybe...a small place in Bora Bora.”

“Excuse me?” 

“Come on! Let’s go inside and see your new house!” Chan said dragging me inside. I laughed and let him pull me inside. He showed me every inch of the house. It was bright and open and gorgeous. I covered my mouth as Chan led me out into the sunroom. The walls were entirely windows and stairs to the right led down to the waterfront. “You like it?” Chan asked.

I turned to see him standing in the doorway holding a bottle and two glasses. “What is this?” I asked with a laugh. He smiled and sat on the day bed on the porch. 

“This,” He said popping the bottle open. “This is your housewarming party.” I watched with a smile as he poured me a glass of champagne. His fingers brushed against mine as I took the flute. “I know it’s not the parties you’re used to.”

I took a small sip of the bubbly drink and smiled. “Are you kidding?” I said, standing between Chan’s legs and looking down at him as he poured his own glass and took a drink. “This is the best party I’ve ever been to.”

The waves crashed on the beach behind us. A cool breeze blew through some of the opened windows, but I felt warm near Chan, his hands around my waist. “You’re just saying that cause I’m here,” Chan whispered.

“So what if I am. It’s the truth.” I said running a hand through his hair. 

“Come here, baby.” He whispered, pulling me down onto his lap. I took another sip from the champagne, before reaching across Chan and setting it on a table. “F***, you’re beautiful.” He whispered, pushing a piece of hair away from my face. I smiled, draping my arms around his neck. 

“You keep saying things like that and I’m going to have to keep you here with me.” 

“Do you see me leaving?” 

He smiled when my fingers carded through his blonde locks. His arms wrapped tightly around me, pulling him closer to me than I thought possible. My lips reached down for his desperate for even more of his touch. 

I felt a cool breeze on my back as Chan’s hands pushed up the hem of my shirt. I shivered feeling his hands on my bare skin. His lips attacked mine as if I was the only thing in this world keeping him alive. I let my fingers drag down his chest. He smiled against me, feeling me play with the hem of his shirt.

His teeth dragged over my bottom lip giving me goosebumps. My hands traveled under his shirt. I was surprised to feel so much muscle under my hands as they rested on his stomach. Chan smirked before he turned his attention to my neck. 

Having had enough of the barrier between myself and Chan I tugged his shirt off, holding onto him tightly as he marked my neck. “Chan...” I whispered, bringing my lips back to his. 

“Sh**,” 

Chan let out a content sigh and pushed me down onto the cushion of the day bed. “How about...we move this somewhere...you know....not outside?” I said between heated kisses from the man above me. He nodded before kissing down my jaw. “Chan, did you hear me?” I asked the breath leaving my chest feeling his teeth graze my skin.

“Sorry...I got a little distracted,” Chan admitted with a smile. I laughed feeling Chan pick me up. “Into your house, we go!” I laughed as he carried me in his arms through the dark living room and down the hall. The master bedroom was full of moonlight from the huge windows on the far wall. I screeched as Chris tossed me onto the big bed. 

“CHAN!” 

He laughed and jumped onto the bed. I smiled as his lips rejoined with mine. His body fit perfectly into all the curves of my own. I sighed against his lips feeling his hips press down against mine. I tangled my fingers in his hair pulling on the blonde locks. 

I watched the moon glisten over the ocean before my eyes closed, the only thing on my lips the name of the man with me.

♛

Jae’s POV

My fingers drummed against the wood of the desk. Not my desk. No. I didn’t get a desk. This was the desk of an old friend. A friend who was late to meet with Dowoon and me. “Wasn’t he supposed to be here an hour ago?” Dowoon said, messing with some of the books on a shelf. 

I kept my feet propped up on the desk and my stare focused on the door. To keep myself busy I had been disassembling and reassembling my firearm and timing myself. “Don’t worry. He owes me more than one favor.” I said slamming the gun down on the desk.

The door creaked open and both our eyes shot to the door. “Woah! You guys scared me. Jae, you look like the f***ing Grim Reaper himself.”

“I will be if I don’t find her. Then, believe me, Wonpil, if I don’t find her and kill that bastard; then there will be too many souls for the gates of heaven to hold.” In the corner of my eye, I saw Dowoon shiver.

“Dude.....that’s creepy,” Wonpil said, tossing a folder onto his desk.

“Jae just really loves Y/n,” Dowoon said with a dopey smile.

I rolled my eyes and picked the gun up off the desk. “What did you find?” Wonpil stat on the edge of the table, casting me a side glance. Dowoon picked up the file my friend entered with.

“I planted a bug on her, but one of the dudes with her snagged it.” Wonpil got up and shooed me from his chair. Reluctantly I complied. He stuck a flash drive from his pocket into his computer. 

“The guy who took the bug- dark hair, foreign-looking?” I asked.

“No.” He said opening up a program. “Both of the guys with her were blonde. She also went by a different name. She called herself Jessica.” I sighed, rubbing my temples. Chan had definitely gotten in her head.

“Sh**.”

“You’re really not gonna like this. One of the guys she was with- she called him her boyfriend. Not gonna lie, she looked happy.” Everyone jumped when my fist slammed into the nearest wall.

Taking a few deep breaths, I calmed myself down and waited for Wonpil to access whatever file he wanted to show me. “The bug should still be going, though.” With a few clicks, Wonpil started playing a live feed.

The sound of two male voices filled the office. “Dude...I’m gonna miss Y/n so much!!” One yelled. Wonpil sighed.

“That’s one of the guys she was with. Not her boyfriend, the other one.” Wonpil stated.

“Don’t worry, Sung. Chan will be back from Jeju any day now. He just went with her to make sure she settled in alright.” I pushed myself off the wall I was leaning in. She was in Jeju. With Chan. I was fuming. 

“Are you sure she was taken?” Wonpil asked. “Because it sounds to me like she was paying these guys to take her.” Dowoon laughed and poked Wonpil’s shoulder.

“No way. Y/n loved her life in the penthouse.” 

Wonpil shrugged and continued to listen to the live feed. “Do you even know where is place is in Jeju?” The rougher voice asked. The one called ‘Sung’ laughed. 

“Of course not. That was Chan’s special place. He never took anyone there.”

“And he’s just giving it to her?”

I sighed rubbing my eyes. “Okay, can you track this thing?” I asked looking over Wonpil’s shoulder. He nodded and tapped away on the keyboard. Impatiently I waited to see where these little sh**s were hiding.

“Looks like the bug is in an apartment complex near Seoul University,” Wonpil said pointing at the screen. I nodded to Dowoon, who took the file from earlier and stuffed it in his jacket.

“Thanks, Wonpil. We’ve got some business to take care of.”

♛

Y/n’s POV

Three days had passed. Three incredible, wonderful, magical days. All spent with Chan. Spent drinking wine on the beach, spent making homemade dinners in the amazing kitchen, spent in bed where Chris whispered sweet nothings into my ear as I fell asleep.

I opened my eyes to be greeted with the morning light seeping in through the large windows of my bedroom. I sat up in bed watching the waves crash against the sand. This was my life now, I thought a sleepy smile spreading across my face.

I looked beside me to see Chan missing from his side of the bed. “Chan?” I called out. Maybe he was in the kitchen. “Babe?” My bare feet pressed against the cool wood floor and I grabbed Chan’s black shirt from off the floor. The fabric brushed against my thighs as I walked into the kitchen.

“Chris?”

“Out here, baby girl,”  I followed Chan’s voice out into the sunroom. He sat on the day bed most of the windows cracked open and the doors were propped letting the warm morning breeze flow through the room. His blonde hair blew slightly in the wind. “Hi, baby.” He said setting down a coffee mug.

“What are you drinking?” I said crawling over him and nuzzling into his side. 

“Tea. You want some?” 

I shrugged feeling his arm wrap around me. “I’ll get some later.” I closed my eyes and enjoyed being next to him. He sighed as I ran my fingers up and down his chest softly. 

“Is that my shirt?” 

“Maybe...”

“It looks good on you.” He whispered, placing a kiss on the top of my head. I draped my leg over his and rested my head on his chest. “Did you sleep well?” His arm wrapped tightly around my back, rubbing my side. I nodded and looked up at him.

“What were you doing out here?”

“I was trying to get in touch with the boys,” Chan said pulling out his phone. “Jisung isn’t answering my calls, which isn’t far from normal.” He sighed and scrolled through various text messages. “But, neither is Changbin.” His brows furrowed and he placed his phone next to the mug.

“Do you need to leave early? To check on them.”

“You couldn’t rid of me if you tried.” 

I laughed looking up at him. “You keep saying things like that, but how do I know you’ll actually do it?” He scoffed and sat up. I scooched upward so I could still lay on his chest. 

“You see that out there,” Chan said pointing out into the ocean. “That whatever is out there.” He smiled, looking down at me before he turned back to the sea. “Japan, the Philipines, whatever is in that direction. I would swim there and back if you asked me to, without hesitation.”

“You don’t know what’s in that direction?” I said with a laugh.

“Y/n you are missing my point!” Chan said chuckling.

“No, I get it. I was just teasing you, Chris.” Leaning up I pressed my lips to his. Chan smiled and pulled me fully on top of him. His fingers tangled themselves in my hair. I felt his heartbeat going crazy against my hand. “I don’t think I’ve ever been happier than I am now,” I whispered against his lips.

“You make me happy,” Chan whispered, looking up at me. “I swear if you tell the boys I ever said something like that I’ll be so embarrassed.” I giggled watching him cover his face, hiding the blush growing on his cheeks.

“Don’t worry, I wo-”

I was cut off by a crash coming from inside the house. Both our heads shot towards the sound. “Did you leave something on the edge of the counter?” Chan asked staring at the door leading back into the house. His grip on my waist tightened when I shook my head.

“No...Chan, what’s going on?”

The door burst open and I screamed seeing Dowoon aiming his gun at the both of us. “Jae they are out here!” He called back into the house. 

“Dowoon!” I screeched, pulling down Chan’s shirt further over my legs. Before I could say anything else, Dowoon grabbed Chan roughly by the arm and pulled him away and into the house. “Let him go! Dowoon!” I screamed and pounded on the man’s back. 

My eyes widened as he threw Chan down onto the floor in the living room. Right at the feet of Park Jae. The man who used to make my heart skip a beat. Now I was furious. “Chan!” I screamed, holding onto him. 

“I’m fine, just stay behind me.” He whispered to me, getting up. Chan stood tall, though his height was no match for the whopping half a foot Jae had on him. I did as Chan told me, sending a glare at Jae from behind Chris, my fingers holding tightly onto his arm.

“Really, Y/n. You’re with this guy!?” Jae screamed pointing his gun at Chan. “What about us?” Jae said quieting down. He looked genuinely hurt. 

“Jae it wouldn’t have worked...” Chan laced his fingers with mine, still keeping his eyes on Jae and Dowoon. 

“Look, Jae...I remember you from a couple years ago. This isn’t you. Let’s put the gun down and handle this like men.” Chan said with a calm tone. Jae scoffed. 

“Fine.” Jae tossed his gun to Dowoon and nodded to him. “Let’s settle this like men.” I heard the sound of his fist making contact with Chan’s face before I saw it. Chan reacted immediately pushing Jae off him before landing a punch of his own. 

My eyes widened when I heard the front door opened. During the scuffle, Dowoon had exited and was now dragging in two men. “HEY MAN WATCH IT! I bruise easily.” I would know that voice anywhere.

“Jisung?” His blonde head turned to me eyes wide.

“Y/n! Y/n, save me from this Mad Monkey Man!” 

“CHAN STOP! They have Ji and Bin!” Chan’s eyes widened and he looked up to see his friends being held by Dowoon. I pulled him off of Jae, who stood up and dusted off his suit. He smirked seeing our reaction to the boys. Jae shrugged off his jacket and turned to our friends. Even Bin looked a little scared. “Jae, leave them out of this.” 

“I can’t do that Y/n. I know for a fact...this one,” He said grabbing the back of Jisung’s hair and lifting up his head. “Was seen helping you make a getaway in Gwanak and he was at the house in Itaewon.” Jisung struggled against Jae’s grip. “Gave Dowoon quite the scar on his cheek.” I turned to see in fact Dowoon had a fresh scar on his left cheek.

I let out a short scream as Jae’s fist flew across Jisung’s face. My friend glared up at him and spat on the floor, a dark red substance falling from his lips. “don’t hurt him.” Jae’s eyes widened and a surprised smile spread over his face.

“Well, seems both men have got you wrapped around their finger, Y/n.” He said taking Jisung’s face in his hand. “The question is,” He said turned to me and reaching behind him. “Which one matters more to you?” Jae pulled out another gun and aimed it at Chan. Dowoon pulled his out as well and pressed it against Ji’s temple. 

In the corner of my eye, I saw Chan’s hand move behind him and reach into the lampshade. When his hand reappeared he was grasping a gun. I held onto his arm and shook my head ‘no’. Chan watched as I stepped between him and the barrel of the gun. 

Jae scoffed. “You’ve got her brainwashed pretty well, don’t you?” I scowled and stood still staring down the barrel of the gun. I knew he wouldn’t fire if I was standing between him and his target. “You probably tried to take advantage of her. Luckily she’s not dumb enough to fall for that sort of f***ing scam.” 

I heard Chan scoff behind me and I shot him a look. He ignored it, however, stepping forward. “Really?” He asked with a smile, listing his head. “From what I remember...she came on to me.” I could see Jae getting angrier and angrier. “Man, you should have been here the past few days. Things were pretty crazy,” Chan said with a smirk.

“D**MMMMMM BRO! THAT’S COLD!” Jisung laughed. Another punch from Jae silenced him.

“You’ve got a right to be jealous,” Chan said, grasping my hand. That was the last straw. Jae launched at Chan, taking him to the flower. Dowoon, thoroughly confused as to what was going on, dropped Changbin and Jisung. Bin ran over near me, wanting to be as far away from Dowoon as possible. Jisung on the other hand stayed over there, enthralled by the fight.

“YES. STEAL HIS GIRL CHAN! SHOW HIM WHO’S BOSS!”

“Jisung, dude, she wasn’t his in the first place,” Bin said narrowing his eyes at our friend. Jisung looked from me and then back to the fight.

“.......KICK HIS ASS, HYUNG!” 

Both boys rolled around on the floor throwing punches and wrestling for dominance. “Stop it!” I screamed pulling on Jae’s shirt. “Stop!” They kept on fighting, not hearing me over Jisung’s trash talk to Jae and his cheers fro Chan. “That’s it.” 

My eyes scanned the room for something relatively heavy. I raced over to the end table and grabbed the purple object before slamming it against the back of Jae’s head. “ENOUGH!” I screamed. All the boys stopped what they were doing and stared at me, eyes wide with fear.

“Chan you were right....what is with your girlfriend and candles...” Jisung whispered to his friend who lay at his feet. Chan looked up and then let his head drop to the floor. I looked to see a Black Cherry Merlot candle in my hand, the lavender tinted glass cracked from the impact of Jae’s cranium. 

Jae rolled off of Chan and held the back of his head. “Enough. Stop this madness. I have had it up to here with you all.” Dowoon flinched at my yelling and I almost felt bad. Jisung helped Chan up from the floor and I dragged Jae by his ear to the kitchen. 

“Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow...” He whined all the way.

“Shut up and listen okay?” Jae nodded and silently watched me grab a bag of frozen peas from the freezer. “I’m not going back with you,” His eyes saddened and he opened his mouth to say something but I stopped him. “I left on purpose. I hated it there. I wasn’t living my own life. I felt like I was locked up in a prison.” 

Jae nodded and pressed the vegetable bag to the back of his head. “So, you really love him?” He looked broken. I still loved Jae, very much. But, not in the way that I used to. His head fell when I nodded. “Your dad is going to kill me, you do know that right?” There was a tiny laugh in his voice, but the words were more true than I would have liked to believe.

“Give me your phone.” 

He passed me his phone and I scrolled through the contacts until I found my father. I waited, arms crossed for him to pick up. “Jae! Have you found my baby girl?” My father’s voice exclaimed through the phone.

“Hi, daddy!” I said, looking around the mess of my new house. Changbin was helping Chan and Jisung was having a sort of staring contest with Dowoon. He flinched away when Dowoon uncrossed his arms. I tried not to laugh.

“Y/n! My darling! Please tell me you are coming home.”

“Daddy, I love you,” I started. He went quiet hearing those words. 

“You aren’t coming home are you?” I shook my head before telling him what he didn’t want to hear. I told him all about my deal with Chan and how he kept me safe until he got me to Jeju. I told him about how I never expected to fall in love with someone like him, but it happened. 

“I’m happy, Dad.” I heard a slow sigh on the other end of the call. I could just picture my father rubbing his temples in his study. 

“If you are happy and you are safe... then I trust you.” I smiled hearing those words. I wanted to jump and scream and sing all around the house. I wanted to run into the ocean and bask in the sunlight. “Please promise me, that you will come visit us.” 

I agreed and told him I loved him before hanging up the phone and giving it back to Jae. “Would you and Dowoon like to stay for lunch? Chan and I were going to grill some shrimp and other stuff.” Jae seemed shocked by the offer. 

“That would be nice.” I smiled and patted his shoulder. 

“The bathroom is just down the hall, but I’m sure Jisung would also like to clean up his face...so I would run.” He gave me a confused look. “He is a strong supporter of ‘dibs’. So, I would run before he calls it.” Jae nodded and turned to leave. 

My hand on his wrist stopped him. “Jae, I’m really sorry. About us. About everything.” He gave me a tight-lipped smile and placed a hand on my shoulder. 

“It’s okay. As long as you're happy with...Chan...then I am happy for you.” 

I smiled and reached up to give him a hug. “Now go before Jisung calls dibs.” He smiled and walked down the hall, breaking into a sprint when he saw Jisung was doing the same. 

♛

Chan and I watched from the sunroom as Jisung and Changbin pushed each other around on the beach. Jae and Dowoon had left after lunch. Now the sun was setting and Chan was grilling up some more food while I sat and talked to him. I laughed watching Changbin throttle Jisung into the ocean.

“How into this are you?” Chan asked flipping some vegetables over on the grill. I gave him a lopsided grin and stood from the daybed. I wrapped my arms around his waist feeling the muscles beneath his tank top.

“Into what? This? Us?” He nodded. I pretended to think about it, making him smile. I let my lips trail down his shoulder. “Very.”

“You’re saying that you want to be my partner in crime?” I rose a brow and he gave me a nervous laugh. “Okay, semi-legal partner in crime.” I laughed and kissed his shoulder again. 

“Let’s start with ‘girlfriend’ before I break the law with you.” He smiled and closed the grill. 

A scream called our attention back to the beach. I was relieved to just see Jisung running away from Changbin. Unfortunately, Jisung wasn’t fast enough and Changbin had his hands around his shoulders, shoving Ji down under the waves.

“I’m friends with literal children.”

 “Yes, yes you are.” He leaned down and pressed a heated kiss onto my lips. I was seriously falling in love with this man. “What do you want to do now, handsome?” I smirked seeing him roll his eyes, but a rosy blush tinted his ears. 

“I don’t know,” He shrugged.

“Something good? Something bad?” I played with the ends of his hair before kissing the corner of his lips. “Bit of both? Whatever you want, pretty boy.” Chan sighed and wrapped his arms around my waist. His eyes turned to the sunset, twinkling in the light. 

“Bit of both then.” He said with a smirk, leaning in for another kiss.

♛

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[scribbleseas]

The Indignant Pawn, Chapter IV: The Sinners’ Subconscious

Description: You are Y/n Y/l/n- formerly known as Princess Helena, the runaway princess.

You’re an assassin for hire who only agrees to find the worst of London's criminals at the business end of your knife; until a mysterious woman hires you to end the likes of Ciel Phantomhive, the King of the Underworld. You find yourself trading your weapons for your abandoned family crest in order to infiltrate his home as none other than Princess Marie-Louise, your twin sister. What's to happen when you find that the young Earl is more than a callous businessman?

OVERALL STORY WARNINGS: sexual assault, objectification, misogyny, death, detailed description of blood/gore, detailed description of murder, lying, impersonation, theft, weapons, detailed panic attacks, symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder. 

CHAPTER WARNINGS: implied rape/sexual assault, mentioned rape, cold water torture, sane asylum, non-consensual drugging by injection, a detailed panic attack, and a single mention of alcohol.

Author’s Note: If you have any questions or concerns about these warnings, please don’t hesitate to contact me! I’m sorry this chapter came out a little behind schedule,I hope you enjoy it! You may want to find somewhere comfy and grab a snack because this one has whooping word count of 10k!

-Dan

⇠ PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER ⇢

. . .

JANUARY 23RD, 1892

LONDON, ENGLAND

“Thank you,” you hugged yourself, wrapping your arms to keep the thick fleece robe secure around your bare figure as Mey-Rin hauled a heavy tin basin of steaming water with two hands. You sat on the edge of your bed, simply watching the maid struggle to carry the basin for the final few feet to the interior of the attached lavatory. She had apologized time and time again for the lack of running water since it was only installed in Lord Phantomhive’s personal quarters and the kitchen, rather than the assorted rooms of the main house. Apparently, they were planning to finish renovations when the Earl made his yearly move to his townhouse in the interior of London, but in lieu of your arrival, both happenings were canceled. However, whether the water was pushed by some innovative pipes, or dragged up the main stairs made no difference to you. After all, you were well adjusted to going through the tedious bathing process without a willing servant at your disposal. 

“Ah- of course- Your- Highness-!” Mey-Rin managed through labored breaths, finally putting the basin next to the opulent clawfoot tub.

Nonchalantly, you stood up from your bed, your hand running over the top quilt to smooth the wrinkles that surfaced from your moving. You followed Mey-Rin into the lavatory and loitered beside the open door as you watched her work.

The tub’s feet were constructed with pure silver, holding up the white porcelain body of the appliance. “Are you sure I can’t be of more help to ya?” she asked before quickly pushing up her falling glasses with two fingers. Tucked in her apron was a dry washcloth that she put over the rim of the tub, paired with a bar of ivory soap and a crystal bowl of lavender essential oil. She poured small spoonfuls of the essential oil into the water, the scent of lavender momentarily calming the hyperactivity of your nerves.

“I am quite certain, yes,” you recalled how you had requested a change in scents when she originally offered a combination of rose and honey. The scent of roses never failed to bring you back to the lavatory of the woman you drowned. She decorated her entire estate with red and pink roses, down to bathing in the scent with perfumes and oils. That woman- Agatha Tolton- was the reason you could only bathe in tubs with a little more than an inch full of water inside and meticulously dip your washcloth in the remaining basin water to dab on your body.

“Right, Your Highness. I’ll be back with your tea,” Mey-Rin squealed, pulling a matching beige towel out of the linen closet by the bathroom’s door. She put it on the lid of the toilet (which surprisingly, had plumbing) and showed herself out, closing the door behind her. 

Finally left to your lonesome, you picked up the tin basin with a grunt and slowly poured a good quarter of the water into the porcelain tub. You wondered how Mey-Rin was able to haul it up the main staircase and down the winding corridor every other night when all you needed to do was pick it up for a few seconds. Steam now rose from both the tub and the basin, which was hot to touch, leaving your palms red from merely moments of direct contact. After setting it down again, your arms too weak for your preference, you shouldered off your robe and quickly stepped into the tub, the hot water encompassing your feet and drawing goosebumps all over your scarred skin. 

Sitting down, the water only came to your kneecaps which was too shallow for drowning. Agatha always liked her water up to her chin and not an inch less. She needed a team of three maids on her bathing service, one to wash her hair and two to lather her body as it submerged in rose water. You had waited two weeks exactly for her servant rotation to put you on the bathing team, and two days to put you in charge of her hair. The maiden charged with Lady Tolton’s hair always entered first and you were efficient- out the window and halfway out of Essex when the two other maids entered, meeting the corpse of their employer.

You squeezed out the washcloth after dipping it in the basin, methodically running it over your body and re-dipping it into the water when it began to lose its heat. The steam from the hot water caused your hair to curl, although you had yet to wash it out yet. You undid the precarious bun Mey-Rin twisted it in that morning, letting it fall on your shoulders in brushed out waves. The least enjoyable part of bathing was submerging, or nearly submerging your head and face. It was left at the very end of your bath for that reason.

The smooth surface of the soap was a sensation that you always focused on while bathing. You found that it kept most intrusive thoughts at bay while you lathered your skin that was long marred by unsoftened water, combat, and self-sufficiency. 

With a sigh, you rubbed the bar of soap over each clavicle and back to the middle of your chest- your sternum. The lather left lines of white on your skin, the gentle scent combining well with the lavender oil in the water. Everything from your privacy, the warmth of the water, the dim lamps should have been enough to completely wash the tension out of both your body and your mind, but it made your looming stress even more intense. It was different from the stress that came from sitting through a play at the Globe Theater and proceeding to enter a dark carriage as the late Felix Keating had. Instead, this stress manifested itself as something that was going to happen because of the serenity of the scene you were in. This was everything that could happen, simply because there was a moment of peace.

Quickly, you finished washing and you poured the remaining water from the basin into the tub, dipping your hair by sitting back and keeping your face out of the water. You carded your fingers through your hair and sat up, squeezing all of the water out and standing, since the water level had raised considerably and frankly, flashbacks took too much emotional- and seldom physical- strain. If you could help to avoid the circumstances that led to them, you did everything in your power to. Unfortunately, bathing was, for the most part, unavoidable.

Water ran down your body as you stepped out of the tub, the cold hair causing a fresh wave of goosebumps to multiply across your skin. You wrapped the towel around yourself, trying to catch each water droplet that ran down your thighs and to your legs before it could reach the tile flooring. You then squeezed out your hair with the towel, letting the soft fabric absorb all of the water before dropping it to the floor carelessly. Mey-Rin would take care of it after bathing Lady Midford, delivering your tea, and finishing off the rest of your night routine. 

Your robe was warm from the steamy air, which allowed you some comfort before opening the door of the lavatory where Mey-Rin was waiting, her smile toothy. Her eyes were hidden under the glare of her obnoxiously round glasses. Water stained her white apron, likely from having to wait on the blonde noble more than she had a princess. The irony of it was amusing to you, but in Lady Midford’s exhaustion, she would have fallen asleep in her own tub, which would have resulted in the Earl having to wed a prune. “Oh, you’re out so soon!” Mey-Rin commented, fumbling over her words in her haste to stand at attention. 

“The brush?” You requested, extending your hand to her as you sat in front of the vanity mirror, the padded stool supporting your bottom. 

“Right ‘ere!” she chirped, her tone too excitable for the late hour. Too happy for the solemn moon that hung in the sky. You could see it out the large windows beside your bed. Mey-Rin handed you your brush by the handle and you preferred to only let her touch your hair in the morning when it needed to be braided and twisted about. You watched yourself move in the mirror, your reflection showing your face and copying your every move, but you couldn’t help but feel detached from it. Disconnected from the flawless skin on your face; grime free and blemish-free, the lack of prominence in your collarbones from the food you had Mey-Rin bring you after cutting every major meal short. The female that stared back at you wasn’t the woman the conman had raised- but a product of status and society. 

She was Princess Marie-Louise, not you- Y/n Y/l/n. 

“Something wrong, Your Highness?” Mey-Rin asked, pulling you out of your thoughts. You hadn’t realized that you stopped brushing your hair and instead, regarded your own reflection. 

“No,” you lied, handing the brush back to her so she could tuck it away in one of the dresser drawers. You dipped a cotton ball into the elderflower water that sat in a small bowl before you, which was prepared nightly by the maid. It ran down your face when it was supposed to only go under your eyes on behalf of Andrea’s instruction. 

“Well you had quite a long day, yes you did,” Mey-Rin said, unfolding a light yellow nightgown from a drawer and holding it open for you to look. Long day. Please. “How about this one?” she asked, showing you the long ruffled sleeves of it, the satin rippling from her movement. The shade of yellow reminded you of the primrose petals that bloomed in Alfriston. 

“Sure,” you stood once again, abandoning the cotton ball on the surface of the vanity. You exchanged your robe for the nightgown in Mey-Rin’s hands, allowing her to sink to her knees and pull the silk that rode upwards. “I suppose you’re right. Salome was a taxing piece,” you added as a truthful afterthought. Salome’s main topic was sexuality and the toxicity of addiction, a sin that you held close to your heart- behind each emotional barrier you erected around the proverbially vulnerable organ. 

“Why, yes, Lady Elizabeth recounted all of it for me,” Mey-Rin agreed, efficiently undressing the bed by taking off each decorative pillow and pulling down the bulky quilt for you. Without hesitation, you took your place on the right side of the bed, sitting forward as she put another pillow behind you. “She told me all about the maiden...the gentlemen who loved her. And that ending! Nothing short of a tragedy- I’d have bawled if I was with you lot.” The side-table with your nightly cup Earl Grey tea sat waiting.

“Right,” you answered halfheartedly, like any investment you had in the conversation from moments ago swiftly disassembled to nothing. The citrus notes of your favorite tea were rejuvenating as per usual, which always helped you to put off sleep. Sleep was the most vulnerable point of everyone’s existence, a death-like state and you couldn’t count the number of lives you’ve taken by using this fact. There wasn’t a dagger under your pillow for the angst of it.

Mey-Rin hummed, “if you don’t mind, I will just finish up ‘round ‘ere and be out of your way!” she chirped, nearly tripping over the stool that you failed to push back under your vanity as she started towards the bathroom to clean up after you.

“Alright, thank you, Mey-Rin,” using someone’s name amid a conversation was a sign of attention, making them more prone to like you. The conman always reminded you to use names as often as you naturally could, since it further expressed respect and divided the subject’s attention. Convincing someone that they were more important than they truly were put them off guard and you were open to taking any advantage you could in this environment. 

“M-My pleasure!” Mey-Rin exclaimed, scurrying into the bathroom after looking at you. The use of her name always caused her to startle, as if a sudden lightning bolt struck.

Your restless night had begun the moment Mey-Rin left your quarters. As you instructed her, she left every lamp and drape open, which kept the room properly alight, sufficiently keeping the darkness of night at bay. You were left nursing the Earl Grey tea she brought, the remaining contents of the teapot lukewarm as you poured the rest of it into the teacup. 

On your lap, the book was open to the Emperor’s New Clothes chapter of the book. You skimmed halfheartedly over the tale, only for the dullness of the task to distract you from your reality and allow you to drift off into a light, dreamless sleep. You hadn’t known the phrase ‘sweet dreams’ since the conman died and you vouched for a violent change in career. 

After finishing off the remaining mouthful of tea, you sat back, leaning against the two downy pillows that were upright against the bed’s headboard. The covers of the bed were pulled over your chest and folded at the top, shielding you from the draft from the window. Your own warmth was trapped under the sheets and the sensation along with a sated appetite and fatigued mindset, you succumbed to reluctant slumber.

. . . 

????

????

Bethlem Royal Hospital; established in 1247- admitting and torturing the mentally unstable since 1407. It was financed and run by the same family for centuries after Bishop Goffredo de Prefetti. Now it ran under a descendant of his great-great-great-great-great-great grandson, Alessandro de Prefetti, who was particular in ignoring the terms of the 1853 Lunatic Asylums Act as it exemplified the rights of the mentally ill. Under his control, the Bethlem Royal Hospital was a prison for the poor and incurable- a way to dump them off-radar. 

The system, at its Greek origin, worked purposely against women which inevitably led to a woman asking you to get her sister back after her husband had dumped her into admission for ‘imaginary female trouble’. Already, you received a hefty sum for organizing a lethal accident involving her sister’s husband, and next, you were off to finish Alessandro de Prefetti and as you promised, clear the falsely imprisoned. 

It was raining, the sky a deep grey as the clouds wept. The wind whistled in your ears, blowing the loose strands of hair in your face as you climbed the side of the brick building, the tips of your boots fitting between the worn gaps of the cement. After studying the layout of the entire facility, you knew that entering through the window of the man’s study was your best option, as senteries and doctors roamed through the corridors unpredictably. 

You shivered from both the exertion and the freezing wind and when you finally reached the window, your fingers were raw from climbing and you weren't sure you could properly feel them. As you predicted, the window was locked, which made it all the more gratifying to pull your screwdriver out of the soaking wet pocket bag between your petticoats. Your trembling fingers quickly wrapped around the handle as you balanced precariously on the side of the wall, your knees bent. The glass window cracked under the blunt tip of the screwdriver as you drove it into the glass repeatedly, as a miner would drive his pickaxe into the ore of a gem. The crack grew with each hit, splintering off before the entire pane shattered, some of the glass shards falling and hitting you. One particular piece fell into you, slicing a thin cut into your cheek, causing you to spit out a curse as you pulled yourself through the busted window, “Huhrensohn!” (Son of a whore!). You could hear the fabric of your gown tearing as it was caught on the few parts of glass that were still intact.

“Who’re you?” A gruff voice asked, giving you no time to catch your bearings. A man stood before you, years older and dressed finely. He was pointing a gun at you, which made sense, considering you had just pried open the window of Alessandro de Prefetti’s study. However, you weren’t about to risk a bullet in your head, driving you to act swiftly. 

“Hmm,” You hummed, dropping your screwdriver back into your pocket bag as you slowly inched closer to the man holding the gun. The lamps illuminated his face, casting shadows over the features that likened him to the praising photographs in the paper. “Are you Alessandro de Prefetti?” you inquired, purposely emphasizing the questioning lilt in your voice. The muzzle of the gun was within range, a few inches from your forehead.

“I asked you a question, girl,” his eyes were fixated on the hilt of the dagger that stuck out of your pocket until both of your hands worked in tandem to disarm him. You turned away, hooking your right arm over the antecubital space of his right arm. Instinctively, he jolted forward, pushing the gun closer which allowed you to turn your body back in towards his, pinning his forearm against your chest with your right arm, your palm flat over your heart. Without hesitation, your left hand forced the gun out of his imprisoned hand, and for good measure, you pushed his face away with the palm of your right hand. 

The conman had shown you multiple ways to trap a gun.

Prefetti stumbled back with a yell, bending over and cradling the red side of his face. The metal gun felt cold in your hands and while you considered chucking the firearm out the window and hacking the businessman to bits with your dagger, this mission called more efficiency- especially if you were to liberate as many as possible. You pulled the trigger of the handgun, staggering back from the force of the gun and immediately, the man before you crumpled to the ground, the bullet finding sanctuary in the midline of his stomach area...before he laughed.

“Enchanting,” Prefetti climbed to his feet, his eyes never leaving your figure. His thumb and index finger entered the entry wound, digging around until he found the bullet and dropped it to the floor. Your next panicked shot missed, flying past his head and running into the door behind him.

“H-How?” you stuttered, shooting again as Alessandro smiled at you, a sadistic glint lighting up his onyx hues. This bullet landed in his shoulder while he walked towards you, continuing to advance after picking out the bullet in the same manner. 

“Come on, darling. We can help you,” he purred, “it’s unladylike to shoot at your savior.” Blood poured out of both his wounds, but he appeared completely unfazed as it ran down his clothing, staining the carpet under his boots. “We’ll take care of you.”

. . .

You were bound to a wooden chair, rope binding both of your arms and legs. The fibers of it poked at your skin, leaving red imprints from the tightly pulled loops. You were shivering once again, your head down as another bucket of ice-cold water was poured on you. Completely exposed, your entire body was peppered with goosebumps, your fingers fidgeting, your palms facing in front of you. There was a pounding in your head and you couldn’t keep your eyes open. 

Another bucket of water was poured over you, each breath you took was laborious and shallow and your whole body tensed.

“I reckon that’ll teach her to not shoot at Master Prefetti,” a familiar voice chuckled, causing you to reluctantly open your eyes. Your vision was obstructed by wet hair that fell in your face, but vaguely you could see the outline of another man, paired with another set of laughter behind you. “That’s right, princess. I hope you didn’t intend to kill us with that shootin’ back there.” His hand pushed your hair out of your face before giving the strands a forceful tug. The pain caused you to yelp and immediately, another bucket of freezing water was violently spilled, causing you to choke on it. “Ha, good one there, James.”

Pete.

“Tell me, how is this one still beautiful after we’ve played with her?” James asked, a bucket in one hand as the other forced you to look at him, the back of your head hitting the top of the wooden chair. “Still so breathtakin’, ain’t she?”

“Quite,” Pete chuckled, accepting the bucket from James to pour right in your face. You squeezed your eyes closed before the water could sting. 

“Did our little princess not enjoy that?” Pete cooed, the false sympathy in his voice palpable. “Brat needs her medicine to properly calm down,” he left the room after calling over his shoulder, “I’ll tell Prefetti!” The door was slammed behind him, the sudden noise causing you to flinch. 

 “Hear that? We’re going to calm you right down,” You were met with James’ smile once you opened your eyes again, blinking as much as you could to keep water out. “And while you’re out, we’ll relax ya even more,” he kneeled at your level, his cold eyes prying, his large hands on your thighs. His fingertips tickled your skin, which was frankly, a more comfortable substitute for biting ice water. “That sound good?”

“Don’t think you’re useless to us when you’re off in that dreamland of yours,” he added as Pete returned, immediately going to your side. Amusement danced in James’ eyes, but he wasn’t looking at you. He was meeting Pete’s gaze and in the same moment, there was a dull sting in your arm. The smell of rubbing alcohol vaguely permeated the air.

Your vision went dark as the hands on your thighs languidly traveled up your torso.

. . .

JANUARY 24TH, 1892

LONDON, ENGLAND

You couldn’t breathe.

The opulent bedroom around you seemed to be a mirage, as your hands pulled at the covers over you. Sweat gathered in your hairline, falling down your forehead and to the bridge of your nose. You sat upright, your heart beating uncontrollably as you panted. 

Alessandro de Prefetti had died about two years ago, 1890. The spring rain had made scaling the side of the building challenging and there was a faint scar across your cheekbone from the broken glass of the window. Every element of that dream was accurate until you shot him. His handgun was instead, thrown out the broken window and you had wrestled the skinny man to the floor, pulling the blade of your dagger across his throat to sever his carotid artery. Everything else that you could vaguely recall from that nightmare- the cold water therapy, the rise of the first two men you had ever killed, never happened. 

After killing Prefetti, you found the woman that you were set to free in the first place and she was treated that way. She was chained to her chair and the men that poured the freezing water over her head were torturing her for bearing an illegitimate child out of rape. Her husband had dumped her into the institution on the assumption that it was her fault. You should have killed him afterward since he took no time to replace her with another doe-eyed lady. Her belly was swollen with presumably, his child.

You pushed the covers off of your body, the heat that they provided was no longer any kind of comfort to you. A quick shake of the cold teapot told you that you finished the last of your evening fix of tea when you needed more or at least a glass of warm milk. The bell that sat on the wall beside your door was tempting, as it would wake the maid and bring her to your room, but you didn’t have the heart to wreck her night of sleep simply because your mind conjured horrid dream sequences. 

The wooden planks felt cold under your bare feet as you sulked to the door of your room, opening it and immediately meeting the dark abyss of the corridor. Before crossing the threshold, you grabbed a lantern to take with you as it illuminated bits of the walls, floor, and ceiling around you. The light chased away the foreboding darkness with each reluctant step you took.

Frankly, you had no clue as to where the kitchen was located- if it was near the dining hall, by the servant quarters, or even at a completely different wing. Your only interest was a certain beverage to calm your racing heart, to still your trembling hands. The lump in your throat was hard to swallow down as pitiful tears threatened to fall. 

Every door that you passed was closed and there was no sign of light anywhere, except the bit that the lantern emitted. The ruffled sleeve of your nightgown had to be stained with how frequently you wiped your forehead clear of anxiety-fueled perspiration. All you needed was a glass of warm milk and you’d go back to your bedroom, on the assumption you could find it after somehow reaching the kitchen.

The opening door to your side caused you to jump and the yelp that passed your lips was narrowly stifled, causing it to be a diminutive squeak. Your tense back was against the wall, the lantern in your hand brandished as if it was an effective weapon. In a way, you supposed it could be. The iron was heavy enough to cause some amount of damage if your hands hadn’t been shaking as much as they were. 

“...Your Highness? Is that you?” Lord Phantomhive’s hoarse voice was octaves lower from sleep. The light of the fire dancing in your lantern showed his face, his black hair disheveled. Notably, there was no black eyepatch over his right eye and instead, his eye was only closed, his long eyelashes kissing the tops of his cheeks. “Did you need something?” His hand fell to his side, his fingers wrapped around the grip of a gun. The sight of it caused the lump in your throat to return with vengeance and while crying in front of your target was lamentable of you, the dam that kept your emotions at bay was only so sturdy.

“I-...” You started, staring at the equal confusion and surprise on his face as tears welled in your eyes, falling down your cheeks as you sniffled. Crying in front of others was an ultimate sign of vulnerability and the conman had you do it on command to play with the heartstrings of your victims when needed while this was different. This was the type of weeping that you couldn’t force down and as a result, you were gasping like a fish out of water before the Earl’s perplexed gaze. Your throat seized with words you couldn’t dare admit. “I-... need warm milk,” your damp sleeve did a poor job of absorbing your tears. 

“We can send for Sebastian. Wait just a moment,” he quickly returned to his room, having exchanged his weapon for a white handkerchief, and his eyepatch fastened back around his head. “Silk is never good for anything more than a first-glance appeal,” he commented, handing the cotton to you. He was right;  the material was much more absorbent than your sleeve. 

Upon rubbing your nose with the handkerchief, the prominent scent vaguely reminded you of the Earl’s- bay leaf with a touch of lavender and ivory soap. 

“Wait with me in my room,” you ordered as a ploy to cover your own passing fear of being alone. Walking back down the winding hall in the darkness was a poor idea and even if your temporary companion was the condescending Lord Phantomhive, he was better than no one. Having to actively speak to someone helped you remain present- far away from the pain that you associated with darkness.

“Certainly, Your Highness,” he said, walking with you, but a few short paces behind. You could hear each step he made, otherwise, the impenetrable silence that loitered between the two of you returned. It was a void that neither of you bothered to fill unless there was a need to. But as he escorted you back to your quarters, two hours after midnight,  there was no need. He knew his place, and it was far from inquiring as to what had agitated you enough to send you out of bed, wailing silently. Although, the unfazed expression on his face; a neutral frown and unfurrowed brow, you suspected he knew. If Lord Phantomhive killed as much as Doña had claimed, then surely, the theater of his subconscious treated him just as poorly as yours did.

“Did I wake you?” You asked, nodding once to validate his attempt at chivalrously opening the door for you. It was already ajar, and you had been able to see the light pouring from it into the hall from ages away, but he didn’t dare leave you then. The cotton handkerchief was rolled into a crumpled ball in your fist, damp with your tears. Your tears had finally ceased as you grappled for control over your own train of thought.

“No,” Lord Phantomhive responded and you couldn’t tell if he was lying or not. His poker face rivaled yours as it was impassive as a brick wall unless you were deliberately poking fun at him. His grandiloquence needed to be rivaled and by passively vexing him, you took pleasure in offering a semblance of modesty to his countenance. “Unfortunately, the thresholds of sleep aren’t so welcoming to me either.”

“I reckon you could use a glass of warm milk as well.”

You could have killed him right there in your room. There were at least seven completely lethal places on the human body to stab with a blade; the spinal cord, the carotid artery, the axillary artery, heart and lungs, the liver, the femoral artery, and the popliteal artery. Your dagger was tucked right under the pillow you slept on and Lord Phantomhive was merely standing at the side of your bed while you sat down on the edge of it. He was off his guard, making it easy for you to pounce, stab, and make your escape through the window. 

However, the mere thought of holding a weapon and covering this nightgown in more bodily fluids was mildly distressing. You knew yourself well enough to be sure that stabbing the Earl would only cause you to freeze up and stare at his corpse, rather than act swiftly and leave. Besides, your eyes were heavy and it felt as if loads of bricks were piled onto your shoulders. Killing him could wait until you returned to top form. Giving Doña such a short time frame was foolish of you, and there was no doubt that she would gloat when you returned after a few days more than a week. There were too many unprecedented factors; such as the able butler and lack of opportunity. The most time you spent with the Earl in a day couldn’t surpass more than an hour, or even less. From accompanying him and his betrothed to the theater to having to wait silently for a glass of milk together, this was the most time you spent with him since your arrival. 

“It would be my second of the evening,” he responded, hesitating long enough for you to look at him, rather than the wall across from you. This was the first time you noticed that he was only clad in a long nightshirt, the neckline a deep v-shape with ruffles that matched those on your sleeves. The shirt hugged his thin shoulders, the rest of the garment completely loose around his frame. His arms were slender, the muscles there likely less developed than yours. Against you, any fight he attempted to put up would be pathetic. 

The conman made sure of it, although he’d never be happy with this life you picked for yourself. After all, the violence he armed you with was supposed to be ‘last resort’. He would have wanted you to attempt to take his lessons and make yourself into someone legitimate. Naturally, the irony was that he was the most honest man you knew.

“To unwind, milk surely surpasses a two-row malt,” you said under your breath, which the Earl either ignored or didn’t hear. Clearing your throat, you spoke louder to articulate more of an appropriate response, “as many as it takes, Lord Phantomhive.” Alcohol wasn’t proper to discuss for a woman, much less a princess. 

“Es ist ziemlich früh zum Aufstehen, Eure Hoheit,” (It’s quite early to rise, Your Highness). When Sebastian entered, he showed no sign of fatigue, unlike yourself or even his master. Out of the three of you, he was the only one clad in more than oversized nightwear. The butler tended to wear some form of a black ensemble, matching with the raven hair that fell in his eyes and cascaded down his neck. Within your time at the estate, you had never seen his bare hands, since they were always covered with pristine white gloves. Sebastian couldn’t have been much older than the Earl, his face was clear of any hints of aging.

“Ich würde den nächtlichen Terror nicht als 'früh aufstehen' bezeichnen,” (I would not call night terror ‘rising early’) your eyebrows knit at the cheeky statement as you took on of the two glasses of milk off of his serving tray. “Mein Bedarf an Ihrer Unterstützung sollte nicht zur Diskussion stehen,” (My need for your assistance should not be up for discussion), you continued, quite sternly. If you hadn’t noticed the Earl’s blank expression, then you would have forgotten that he couldn’t understand German as you scolded his butler. When he was agitated, Lord Phantomhive’s ability to filter his facial expressions was significantly reduced, which resulted in what you christened, the look.

Sebastian chuckled as if he was more amused by your sentiment than taken aback. He closed his eyes, briefly lowering his head as he stood before you. “Sie haben Recht. Ich bitte aufrichtig um Entschuldigung; wenn Sie noch etwas benötigen, zögern Sie bitte nicht, danach zu fragen,” (You're right. My sincerest apologies; if you need anything more, please do ask) he said, practically cooing with the smooth intonations of his voice. That patronizing articulation reminded you of the three men in your nightmare and the sickening reminder caused your blood to boil. 

“Wenn ich sehe, dass Sie Ihren Zweck erfüllt haben, würde ich sagen, dass Sie sich rar machen dürfen,” (Seeing that you've served your purpose, I would say you're cleared to make yourself scarce). You took a sip of your milk, the warmth of it providing a new sensation to anchor your presence onto. The glass between your palms was also warm to touch.

“Natürlich. Gute Nacht, Eure Hoheit,” (Of course. Goodnight, Your Highness), Sebastian responded, tucking the serving tray under his arm. “A goodnight to you as well, my Lord. I presume you can show yourself to your bedroom when Her Highness requires privacy once again.”

The Earl was slow to respond, likely having allowed his mind to drift some with the foreign conversation that excluded him. “Evidently,” each syllable of the word was pronounced with malice from the haughtiness in Sebastian’s condescending countenance and the conversation that was completely lost to him. Once Sebastian closed the door behind him, he turned to you, his upper lip saturated in milk before he pursed his lips to get it off. “Of all the skills he’s mastered, Sebastian still hasn’t learned the art of holding his tongue. My apologies.”

“He answered for himself,” you stood with your glass in hand, and looking back at your disheveled bed, you had half the mind to ask the Earl to stay until you fell asleep. The conman would do that for you when your nightmares were far tamer; consisting of missing an important event, or simply falling from an unknown height. However, scratching a subconscious itch wasn’t worth shredding the carefully crafted exterior you had put on for this charade any more than you already had that night. “You should retire now. It’s late.”

“So long as you attempt to as well,” Lord Phantomhive said, giving you a long look, devoid of pity. Instead, there was a tentative awareness, an insight that was dangerously convincing. “Sleep well,” his parting timbre seemed octaves lower, causing you to pause and look at him. 

“Sleep well,” you reiterated, quickly putting your glass on the side table with your empty teacup, sliding back under your warm covers. He shut the door, twisting the knob slow enough to leave a soft click, rather than the louder bang that sounded when the door was shut normally.

The next bout of uncertain sleep you fell into was light and fortunately, dreamless.

. . . 

JANUARY 24TH, 1892

LONDON, ENGLAND

“It was an honor to meet you, Your Highness!” Lady Midforf dawned a new dress for the fresh day. It was another baby pink shade that strategically brought out her big emerald optics. You had left breakfast early that morning, but as kindness towards her, provided her and the Earl your permission to continue to dine. You had retreated to your room with the hope of catching some final moments of rest, despite being completely dressed in a deep blue gown, your hair pulled into another intricate bun. 

At your request, Mey-Rin brought a tray of Earl Gray tea and two little squares of butterkuchen, or butter cake, paired with assorted berries. You were in the process of nursing your tea and slowly picking at each cut of cake with your dainty dessert fork. They were easiest to maneuver in your small hands. 

The moment the door opened, you stood and quickly brushed crumbs off of your lap with your hands. In order to eat your breakfast, you were sitting at the desk in front of the large window. Merely watching snow fall lazily was enough entertainment for you, since it gave your mind the proper space to wander. 

“The same to you, Lady Midford,” you said. Her title came out awkwardly as you tensed in surprise when the tall blonde caught you in a tight embrace. She was a handsy girl, judging by the way she clung to her betrothed, but you had assumed that being royalty, she’d grant you mercy. However, her (surprisingly strong) arms squeezed your middle with the same insistence that your corset had that morning. You couldn’t imagine having to endure uncomfortable contact multiple times. 

Reluctantly, you patted Lady Midford’s back twice, which she took as a gesture for her to release you. She didn’t know her own strength and you couldn’t help but wonder where it came from exactly. “I very much hope to see you again,” Lady Midford continued, her smile beaming at you. It reached her eyes and you had no doubt that it was genuine; your only question is- how is one so happy?

Although you sincerely doubted the likelihood of you crossing paths with the noble, you pretended to have a desire to. After all, if you did see her again, it would mean that Lord Phantomhive was still alive and you were still shouldering this heavy charade. You hoped to be out of the estate days ago and at this incredibly slow rate of progression, you were sure that you’d be stuck there for at least a few more days. 

“Safe travels,” you said, watching as she stepped back towards the open door. She proceeded to retreat, until she stopped at the door, her face suddenly quite serious. 

“Your Highness,” she said, her voice lower. “Ciel is very dedicated to Her Majesty. As long as you’re here, he won’t let a single thing happen to you,” she continued, her stare prying into your soul, it seemed. “He’s...a bit distant, but you can trust him if my word means anything to you.”

Your face softened and for a passing moment, you felt sad for the girl. You were going to kill her betrothed- her cousin that she seemed to care dearly for. She was merely collateral damage- considering Lord Phantomhive was responsible for the deaths of many innocents. 

Your hand rested on the top of the chair that you were previously sitting in. “Thank you, Lady Midford. That is very reassuring to hear,” you lied, moving your hand over heart for a shallow curtsey. “My grandmother has done nothing but sung his praises. I trust him with my life,” you continued, properly standing to your feet. Lady Midford’s eyes were glassy as if she was about to cry from the sentiment. Hopefully, she’d get on with leaving before you had to deal with that. 

Lady Midford nodded, her high pigtails moving as she returned the curtsy. Hers was deeper and much slower than yours had been. “The pleasure is completely mine. I must go now- before Paula comes up to fetch me herself,” Lady Midford made an effort to joke, her laugh was a little wanner than it normally was. She sniffled and quickly left your room, leaving the door open after.

. . .

“Your Highness...might I ask why are you are so invested in these...children’s tales?” Lord Phantomhive’s voice sounded behind you, causing you to nearly lose your footing and fall off the short stool that you were using to look for more Brothers Grimm pieces. The sound you made wasn’t as strong as you would have preferred it to be, your hands quickly flying to the shelf for stability. If you had been holding a book, it would have certainly fallen to the floor. “My apologies. It wasn’t my intention to startle you.”

Normally, you would have heard his footsteps, the sound of the door opening and closing, but you were too invested in finding the story that Hanna used to tell you from memory. Hanna was a maid that worked in the Glücksburg Castle for your family. She took you in the kitchen from time to time and you’d help her bake as well as a little girl could; until Governess Lydia fired her for teaching a princess a skill of a middle-class woman. Hanna had every tale from the Brothers Grimm memorized and she’d recite each story to you, particularly one that featured a mother, a murder, and a bird. You couldn’t remember the title for the life of you, but out of a lack of agenda (besides plotting an impending murder), you set out to locate it within the expansive collection of books.

You took a large inhale, closing your eyes for a moment. From having them open for an extended period of searching, you had forgotten to blink. You released the air in your lungs after it grew stale and stepped down from the short stool to properly face the Earl. The height difference between the two of you wasn’t severe with your heels, but it was enough to force you to look up at him. 

 It took you a moment to realize that the bulk of his words were completely lost on you. “I beg your pardon?” you asked, dutifully ignoring his reliable deadpan.

“You’re going to read...yet again,” Lord Phantomhive pointed out rather astutely. You were positive that his statement was much longer than that simple comment, but you didn’t push the matter. 

“Unfortunately, the options in the estate are rather limited for me,” you responded truthfully. You meant this by way of interesting things to do as well as the opportunity to complete your assignment. Sebastian was always hovering around the Earl and in the rooms where he is alone, there are no clear routes to leave through. You weren’t in possession of any thallium which was last resort in the first place. “I can do almost anything at home, but here,” you mused, playing into your role, “...here, I’m essentially under a house arrest. It’s quite boring.”

Lord Phantomhive’s eyebrows furrowed as he watched you. The action always caused the bit of skin between them to wrinkle and paired with his parted lips, he resembled a gaping fish. This was the look of exasperation and disbelief you met multiple times per day- enough for you to start calling it the look. 

“I’m looking for a particular story by the Brothers Grimm. Are you familiar with their work?”

“I was-” you cut off his budding sarcasm with a glare of your own.

“A stepmother kills her stepson and bakes him into a pudding,” you explained as you turned back to the shelf to skim over the titles on the spines of the books. 

“The Juniper Tree,” the Earl named almost instantaneously. At your questioning stare he cleared his throat, “my late aunt would read that one to myself and Lizzie all the time...there’s no copy here.”

You frowned and turned to look at Lord Phantomhive again. How could he be so sure? There had to be a few hundred books in the library to keep track of altogether...how could he be sure of one particular tale? The tautness in his shoulders told you not to pry. “Very well. Did you need to speak to me?” you asked since the Earl only approached you outside of meals when he needed to inform you of something particular. 

“Yes. I have a dinner meeting with the head of a trans-Atlantic shipping company this evening. For your safety, I’d like to request you remain on this level of the building while it proceeds,” Lord Phantomhive’s poker face was quite nonchalant as he more or less ordered you to keep hidden from the other businessman. You understood that given his own instructions from the Queen, he had a certain degree of authority over where you went, or who you saw. Besides, you could use the time on the second floor to your advantage. 

“And what of my dinner?” You were quite open to the prospect of eating alone because it meant that you could eat more than a few measly forkfuls. 

“My staff is fully prepared to serve you in the foyer- or wherever you’d like on this level,” the Earl said, shifting his weight to his other side in preparation to leave you alone once again. “If there’s anything you need-”

“I won’t hesitate to ask,” you finished, finding the spiel more patronizing by each second it carried on. “Thank you,” you added as a half-hearted afterthought, pairing it with a strained turn of your lips. 

A few seconds of silence followed as Lord Phantomhive composed himself. Irritation flashed in his exposed eye and his hand clenched at his side since he wasn’t carrying anything with him. The subtle movement caught your gaze and when he noticed that you were looking, the same hand opened. The blue gem on one of his rings shined in the light, just as yours did. Was it a family ring as well? The band was silver instead of rose gold, but there was no doubt it had a hefty fortune behind it. 

“Of course, Your Highness.” 

. . . 

While Lord Phantomhive focused on his meeting, you took the opportunity to get into his study. A nagging voice in the back of your mind demanded concrete evidence that the boy was truly a criminal, considering you failed to pry into Doña’s motivations. She was a shrewd woman and went as far as to unapologetically provide you with an alias. Doña translated to lady or madame, a tidbit that you learned through finding a Spanish to English dictionary tucked in a shelf of the Phantomhive library. You didn’t actually know her name, and for all you knew, her deceased family resided within a crime ring that your grandmother could have asked her guard dog to eradicate. Although the likelihood of finding evidence, either way, was slim, there was cause to try.

Your hand twisted the knob of the door, but before you could apply any pressure, Sebastian intervened. He stood behind you after his stealthy approach, silent, almost waiting for you to speak first. Sebastian’s steps were too quiet- the conman taught you how to make yours as indiscriminate as possible, but the old wooden floor always whined beneath your heels. You let go of the knob after trying to give it a twist. However, it didn’t budge.

“Kann ich Ihnen helfen, Sebastian?” (May I help you, Sebastian?) You turned around to face him properly, his face predictably smug, no matter how he tried to maintain his respectful smile. Although his poker face was far superior to his master’s, no facade was perfect; not even yours. Marie was much more genteel than you; following the customary guidelines to pretend to be nice, or pretend to enjoy having her whole middle shoved into a restricting torso. She shoved her feelings so far off, you doubted she had the complexity to frown- or think- by the second time you ran away. In that way, you were failing to personify her- the perfect princess she was. 

Sebastian ignored the question, “Mein Meister ist derzeit in einer geschäftlichen Besprechung. Wenn Sie ihn gesucht haben, erlauben Sie mir bitte, eine Nachricht entgegenzunehmen,” (My master is currently in a business meeting. If you were looking for him, please allow me to take a message) you figured it would be best to pretend as if your conversation with Lord Phantomhive had simply slipped your mind (or didn’t take place at all), since Sebastian was notably absent. 

“Ach ja, richtig. Dann werde ich mein Abendessen jetzt im Foyer einnehmen, vielen Dank,” (Oh, right. Then I will take my supper in the foyer, now, thank you). You hastily left Sebastian standing alone in the hall to show yourself to the exact foyer in the west wing of the estate. The fireplace reminded you of the exact brick pattern that the fireplace in your own home had, which was a vague comfort to you. Furthermore, eating alone was a relief because it allowed you to fully let down your usual restrictions and eat until you were completely satiated- to take bite after bite until your corset felt even tighter than it had that morning. Your empty stomach rumbled at the thought.

. . .

Finny brought firewood inside the foyer and started a warm blaze in the fireplace at your off-hand request. Once again, his strength took you aback when he effortlessly hauled in multiple thick logs, the dirt on them staining his yellow shirt. 

Since Sebastian was too occupied in serving the Earl and his other guest, the other servants on the estate were left to tend to you. The table that you were sitting at was pulled in from the library, the white cloth that ran over it was pristine and pressed to size. Your utensils shined, likely polished recently. The atmosphere was much more comfortable, as opposed to the cold silence that you and Lord Phantomhive tended to sit in. Moreover, the other servants- Mey-Rin, Finny, and Baldroy were simply less...presumptuous and sly. 

You particularly appreciated Baldroy- not for his work or lack thereof, but his scattered presence. The vague scent of cigars that followed him reminded you of the conman, just as his laid-back drawl and leadership tendency did. There was hardly any commonality between the respective appearances of the two men, but the way Baldory carried himself oddly...helped you to remember the conman’s voice. His phlegmy laugh and snide grin.

“We’d be doin’ a fine disservice to you in tryna pronounce the names of these dishes,” Baldroy said, emerging through the open doors of the foyer with several small plates of distinctively different German plates. They were small enough to be considered canapés, but the summation of five plates made up for their portion. You assumed it was a bid on Sebastian’s part to waste less food in attempting to please you.

At Baldory’s side was Mey-Rin as she held a small basket of bread rolls, with one little glass bowl tucked within them. It was one type of jam- likely the quince that you had been favoring over your last few meals. Even as a girl, it was one of your favorites, being almost exclusive to Germany. 

Your smile turned one corner of your lips upwards- barely there, but completely genuine. “That’s fine. I do find Sebastian’s introductions quite tedious to sit through,” your shoulders jumped when you laughed shortly, unable to help your reaction to their surprised faces. Baldroy wasn’t accustomed to your dry humor and Mey-Rin’s shortcomings were rarely validated with a semblance of amusement.

“Oh- well, alright, then-” Baldroy started, placing the tray that carried all the dishes before you. It was clear that he wasn’t experienced with table service, (Mey-Rin none the wiser), but in a way, you found the informality strangely comforting. 

“-This is spätzel,” you interrupted, gesturing to the first plate with egg noodles nearly twirled. It was usually quite heavy for your preference since the noodles could sometimes be considered ‘dumplings’. “Käse, cheese,” you couldn’t name the exact type of cheese that was cut on the next plate. Each slice was paired with a different cracked and knowing Sebastian, you felt safe in assuming that this was on purpose. “Katenspek...teewurst” you continued, mostly naming the food in front of you for your own memory’s sake. After spending the most recent nine years of your life in various cities in England, you were more accustomed to bangers and mash and heavy cottage pies.

Quickly looking up at the two servants, you cleared your throat. “Is this all?” you asked impassively. It seemed to be more than enough already. 

“Yes!” Mey-Rin responded, “this is all. I’ll be right back with your tea, ‘scuse me,” she rushed out. Her basket of bread was still in her hands and with her short attention span, there was no way she’d realize it until she reached the kitchen. However, the scent of freshly warmed rolls continued to linger around your table, just as Baldroy’s scent of smoke did.

The combination reminded you of the desperate day you met the conman- after you swindled an upper-middle-class couple out of a great sum of their money. With that man’s wages...Baxter purchased a loaf of bread, under the logic of conserving what the two of you rightfully earned. He laughed in that alleyway, praising your acting skills until his face was shades darker than the cold air made it. No one in Germany praised you- not once and within a single week of relocating across the sea, you had garnered someone’s appreciation. As a girl, nothing (besides a full stomach) was quite as satisfying. That was when he offered to take you in, and evidently, the rest was history. 

You hadn’t noticed Baldroy leave, but after looking up from the plates of food before you, space across from you was empty. Once again, you were left alone, the only prominent noise in the foyer was the soft crackling of the fireplace and the chime of your fork and knife against the bowl that the spätzel was piled in. There was a sprinkling of parsley on top, but you brushed it out and onto the plate under the small bowl. Amongst many moving parts, the food that was involved in this particular operation was both a vice and a virtue- sitting in front of delectable meals multiple times a day, but due to social codes, only being able to eat a few bites while with company. Your circumstances reminded you of the Greek myth of Tantalus, though you were much better off than the deceased king of Sipylus.

After reaching the bottom of the bowl, you moved on to demolishing the tasting of pre-cut Katenspek, which was smoked pork belly. It would have been salty for your liking, had there not been some kind of cranberry sauce pooled at the bottom of the stack of thin strips. You were about halfway through finishing them off when Baldroy returned. By the surprise in his eyes, it was safe to assume that he expected you to have returned to your quarters instead. 

Baldory didn’t wait too long to speak as he raised an eyebrow at you. “Huh, I was beginning to doubt me cookin’,” he mused, sharing your bashful half-smile. You dabbed your lips with the edge of the folded napkin on your lap. The action stained the white cloth with the red cranberry sauce that loitered on your lips. 

You sat back in your chair, finding the corset you wore much tighter than it felt before you sat down to properly eat. Relief bloomed in your stomach as you regarded the chef in front of you, the euphoria of finally having a full stomach causing you to smile again. “It was delightful, thank you,” the idea of someone of importance witnessing you so content sent shivers down your spine.

. . . 

There was a knock at your door, the sound too strident to be Mey-Rin’s and unnecessary for it to be Sebastian’s. Mey-Rin had finished her nightly duties, this night’s routine much more simplified, since you had only just bathed last night, and rather than Sebastian, she brought up your Earl Grey tea with a hefty slice of Black Forest cake- the best dessert to grace the earth. The recipe was native to Germany, chocolate layers of cake with a cherry and cream filling. The cherries in the filling were soaked in cherry schnapps that originated in the Black Forest, a mountain range in Germany. There was still more than half of it on the plate as you pried small bites from it every couple of minutes. 

“Hereinspaziert,” (Come in), you mumbled, hardly looking up from the page of the new book you picked up before retiring to sleep. This was a compilation of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe Poems, each in native German, and translated on the next page over. Along with theater, poetry tended to enervate you enough to allow you to rest some for a night. This particular poem was called “Night Thoughts”. The title was ironic enough to catch your eye in the glossary at the beginning of the book.

‘Ihr, von denen der Seewurf die Matrosen angezündet hat…’ (Ye by whom the sea-toss'd sailor's lighted…)

The door opened to reveal the Earl at the threshold. He was still dressed in his posh number, his jacket, and trousers a matching forest green while his shirt was its predictable white. You pulled your covers up further, holding them up to your chest under your open book. The neckline of your nightgown was much lower than you were comfortable with exposing and keeping the bits of dignity you had was more than preferable. 

“Yes?” you urged Lord Phantomhive to state his case for interrupting your reading- not that the poem made much sense to you anyhow. The male’s face was terse as if the meeting hadn’t played out the way he had wanted it to. Considering he had only shown himself in your, it was hard to believe that you coaxed out the look with a single syllable.

“You called this estate boring,” he stated nonchalantly, loitering in front of the open door. Behind him, the hallway was alight with the dim glow of lanterns, a gesture that you duly appreciated. 

“I did,” you replied, matching his level of care in his articulation. Lord Phantomhive was nothing of a utilitarian in a sense of parlance. He used too many posh words most of the time and appeared to believe that studying Latin was a productive use of time. Yet, he seemed too peeved to care.

Furthermore, fun wasn’t something you were well acquainted with, but you could confidently say that sitting through a tragic play with your intended victim and his betrothed did not qualify. Vaguely, fun was supposed to be stimulating or engaging in some way. Lord Phantomhive was close to your age, but he acted several years older with a lack of interest in anything that resided off of some variant of paper.                                

“Let’s go horseback riding, then. I know a private trail,” he suggested. Learning how to ride a horse was about the only interesting lesson you had as a girl, although you were constantly scolded for refusing to sit side-saddle. It was considered a way to preserve a woman’s modesty. For a lady to spread her legs outside a marriage bed was a complete sacrilege and you made the most out of standing in the stirrups of your horse when you could. 

You couldn’t remember the last time you held a pair of reins in your own hands since you had only learned in the instance of an emergency. In any other case, you had to sit behind a man while he directed the horse for you. Besides, the January cold had to be too much for the horses to bear for a winding trail in the countryside. 

“Well?” Lord Phantomhive asked arching an eyebrow at you. If the trail was private, it made a good setting for killing him, hiding the body, and leaving with the horse. Especially if Sebastian was going to be the only accompaniment on the trip. Judging by his slender physique, you doubted that he’d be able to put up much of a fight against you if there was no way to be furtive.

“Fine,” you cut a slice out of your cake with the side of your fork, momentarily breaking eye contact with the noble as you let the hunk of chocolate cake and tart cherry marry on your tongue before meticulously chewing and swallowing. “You know, you are ambitious in your pursuits, my Lord.” You added offhandedly, considering this proposal came from a vague challenge from you. 

Lord Phantomhive shrugged, the corner of his lips twitching to form his elusive smirk. “Hm,” he paused, the thought clearly facetious when it was supposed to be a simple observation from you. “We’re human beings, Your Highness. Always after our own self-interest.” 

“Then it’s within your self-interest to both protect and entertain me?” The conversation was quickly evolving into a clever, existential turn of phrase, rather than an invasion of your time alone. You closed your book after putting a little piece of paper inside to save your page. 

“Of course. The Phantomhive name is known for the standard of care we give our guests- particularly-”

“Particularly grandchildren of Her Majesty,” you finished smugly, although he would have used a less blunt way to state your title. The coy smirk on his regrettably prepossessing face dropped, quickly replaced by the look, once again. If the Earl couldn’t admonish you verbally, he was sure to show you his irritation with his face, whether he meant to or not. At least he was to be reasonably humbled before you ended him. 

The Earl cleared his throat, “Tuesday is my only free day this week. I’ll have Sebastian make preparations for then.”

“And what am I to do in the meantime?” You questioned, playing up your impertinence to bother him further. Marie would do the exact same and more likely, she would have demanded more from the Earl. You were much more acquiescent and you merely kept to yourself, save for your attempt to get into his study to pry. Gaining access was crucial to your morality and since you intended on striking at the end of that trail, you’d need to enter before Tuesday morning. 

“I trust that you are capable of entertaining yourself, for the time being, Your Highness.”

You took a long sip of your tea, the floral notes of the Earl Grey mingled nicely with the remnants of cherry on your tongue. The heat of the beverage caused you to cringe as it ran down your throat. The teacup remained in your hands as you regarded the noble, who had inched his way to the foot of your bed for ease of conversation. Naturally, he loitered at the respectful distance, keeping his gaze proper and away from the covers that fell from your chest. You didn’t have the hands to readjust them, or the peace of mind to notice.

 “...Fine. Sleep well, Lord Phantomhive,” you dismissed, putting the teacup back on the nightstand with the remnants of your cake. You had a feeling that he wasn’t done with the conversation, but you weren’t shy in expressing that you were. The night was a complex time and while the presence of another in your room was somewhat soothing, it reminded you of the episode you had that morning. The bruise to your pride was somewhat fresh, making it uncomfortable to think about or dwell on. At least in that way, you understood Lord Phantomhive. His pride made for a sturdy defense around the vulnerable- terrified- subconscious as yours did. You each protected your weaknesses fiercely and that's what made this particular assignment so complicated.

“Sleep well, Your Highness. I’ll sort out the rest of the details and keep you up to date,” the sound of the door shutting behind him caused you to jump. You put your book on the nightstand, using it to push the tray of refreshments further away. This night would do well to be kinder to you. 

. . .

Tags:

#ciel phantomhive #ciel x reader #black butler #black butler fanfic #strangers to lovers #anime fanfiction #sebastian michaelis #murder #angst #historical fiction #victorian era #the indignant pawn #a sinner's subconscious #ciel phantomhive x reader

[ebookcreator47]

How to Create an Ebook That Will Sell

Selling a book online is much different than offline.

Imagine for a moment you are going to a bookstore to get a book on candle making. You get to the store, find the section on candle making and begin browsing through the titles. You pick up the individual books, examine the table of contents and maybe even read a few paragraphs. Eventually you pick the one which you believe suits you best and purchase it.

Buying a book (or eBook) online is nothing like that-the purchase decision is made simply by the title of the book and the description on the website.

So, in order for your book to sell you must have a compelling "theme" to build your book around. Your theme is what is often referred to as a unique selling proposition or "USP".

Here are the steps to getting that done:

Step One: Examine your competitor's web sites.

At this point many people counsel you to purchase all of your competitor's books, figure out what they go about solving your prospect's problems then decide how you can do it better in your own book.

Good advice but it lacks the most basic fundamental-the one you learned in the first two paragraphs-people don't see the content until they BUY. They make the decision to buy based on the web copy.Click here  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LSSGn_KQmoI

So, I want you to visit your competition's web sites. For each site, determine what (if anything) is unique about their offer. Are they offering a unique solution to your prospect's problems? Are they giving a unique service? Unique information?

Those are the messages you are competing with.

Step Two: Determine your own unique USP.

Brainstorm on something you can deliver to your customers that others are not. Do you have unique experience no one else has? Can you offer a "step-by-step" approach rather than just "information"?

Sometimes a seeming "disadvantage" can be your advantage...

Several years ago I came up with a great idea for an eBook. My main competition was another eBook at around 175 pages-most of it fluff. As I looked at the product and website of my competitor, and as I heard from his customers (remember: research!) I found many complaining the information was just too long and not simple enough to implement.

I made my eBook just 60 or so pages long, with simple, step-by-step plans and my USP was that I had a "no fat, simple, step-by-step plan".

It worked. The first year that little eBook earned over $50,000-and it took only a couple days to put together.

Step Three: Turn your USP into a title.

Have you read the crazy titles the "tabloids" come up with for their articles? "500 Pound Cat Eats Owner", "Elvis Found Alive in Jamaica", "Something You're Eating Right Now Can Poison You-Do You Know What It Is?."

Pretty captivating, huh?

The tabloids use these crazy titles to get us to buy and read their publication. They understand the high value a captivating title can have in getting their product sold.

The same thing is true for any book you write for sale. You need to have a captivating title that grabs people's attention and forces them to buy.

Here are some ways to create a captivating title for your next project:

1. Have Emotional Appeal

"How to Lose Weight on a Low-Calorie Diet" Yawn.

How about "Suddenly Sexy: How One Small Change Can Give You the Body of Your Dreams (and His!)" Wow, sign me up!

Appealing to emotion dramatically increases the likelihood your article or book will be picked up and read. Appealing to our innermost desires, our ambitions, our curiosity or our vanity can be powerfully effective.

Consider this title for a book on overcoming diabetes: "No More Needles: A Handbook for Beating Diabetes". It appeals to both the fear of pain as well as the hope for a cure.

2. Make it Catchy

"Suddenly Sexy" conveys a whole image in just two words. "No More Needles" does the same. Over the years you have probably seen many titles with a "catchy" theme:

"Chicken Soup for the Soul"

"Rich Dad, Poor Dad"

"The One Minute Manager"

"Don't Sweat the Small Stuff"

3. Convey a Benefit

"Six Figures in Six Months" conveys a compelling benefit. So do "No More Tantrums" or "Fly Free: How to Fly Almost Anywhere on Earth for Nothing". Each has an obvious benefit to the reader.

4. Be Creative by Copying Others

To create captivating titles, look at what titles have been compelling or successful in the past then adapt them to your own use.

If I were writing an article or book on parenting, I might use "Chicken Soup for the Soul" as inspiration.

First, I would break it down:

"Chicken Soup" - a warm, homey, positive image for many "for the Soul" - the target of the image

Next, I would try several variations to see if one works well:

"A Warm Blanket for the Hurried Parent"

"A Soft Shoulder for the Parent"

"Gentle Advice for Frazzled Parents"

Of these three I like the third the best, though I would probably work with this more to come up with an even better title-or look to a different winning headline for inspiration.

Step Four: Outline your book, with sub-points springing from the theme.

Make a detailed outline, with your major points each representing a new chapter. The more detailed you make your outline, the better organized your content will be.

Step Five: Write your book or have it written for you

If you are doing it yourself...

A few pointers:

1. Use a word processor with spell check ability.

2. Short sentences, short paragraphs.

3. Use a "conversational" tone-like you are talking to someone across a table.

Step Six: Add screenshots (if applicable)

This is EASY and almost everyone can do it.

Depending on your eBook topic, you may want to add "screenshots" of things you are doing on your computer as you go. This is how you can do that simply and easily...

Most computers today have a "Print Screen" button. In Windows machines the button makes a copy of everything on the screen and places it on the "clipboard". You can then simply "paste" it into whatever document you are writing.

You can also use the "print screen" then paste technique to capture an image from your screen then paste it for editing into your Paint program or other image editor.

Step Seven: Add artwork

The bare minimum you need is a good-looking cover for your eBook. If you are the creative type and have the resources, you can make it yourself.

If you AREN'T the creative type, then you can get someone to make it for you. Plan on spending $35+ for each eBook cover created.

In addition you can add clip art and other illustrations to your eBook. You can buy these in bulk (we have a directory of 500K pictures we got for about $20) or you can get them from various sites online.

If you have a digital camera it is also simple to make high-quality pictures you can add to your eBook.

Step Eight: Have people read your book

This is crucial...have your family and friends read your book. Print it out, give them a red pen and have them mark up any mistakes they find. (It's often best to give it to your mother-in-law since she will often find more of your mistakes than anyone else!)

After you get back your book, make the changes and you are ready to create an "electronic" version or eBook.

Step Nine: Make your book into an eBook.

There are three main options for creating an eBook.

The first is to create an Acrobat Reader file (also called a "PDF"). This has become the standard over the last few years. PDFs are now so common most people are accustomed to looking at them so you typically have fewer customer service issues with PDFs. PDFs also work on both Windows and Macintosh computers.

The second option is to use a custom eBook creator. Custom eBook creator software typically breaks your eBook down into website-like pages. Custom eBook creators typically work only with Windows computers.

The third option is to purchase a program that creates your eBook then gives each purchaser a unique password to be able to view the contents. This, in theory, prevents someone from giving away the book free to others or purchasing the book then asking for a refund just so they can get it for free.

Here's why I believe the first option is the best one...

When your eBook is done as a PDF file you are going to have far fewer customer service issues than if you use either of the other two options. I have sold thousands of eBooks and in only about 2% of the cases do we have service issues with people being able to read the eBook.

But you need to take one further step to protect your eBook from piracy...

Add this disclaimer to the title page of your book:

If you have received this book from any website other than YourDomain.com it is stolen. We pay a reward for reporting theft. Simply send an email to: [EMAIL ADDRESS]

Of course you should substitute your own website for mine, but you get the idea.

We have been using this method for four years and have had only a few instances of theft.

But what about people who ask for a refund?

Our refund rate is about 2.5%. While I don't know for sure how many people are asking for a refund simply to get an eBook for free, I know it isn't many. I would rather not have the customer service issues than worry about the.5% or so who might try to "steal" from me.

Step Ten: Make a back-up copy of your files to a CD or your external hard drive.

Trust me, it's better to be safe than sorry!

That's it-ten steps and you're done and have an eBook that can set the web on fire and line your pockets with instant cash.

[kitcat992]

I’m dealing with some serious crippling self-induced writers doubt right about now trying to tie together this goddamn forsaken latest chapter of Identity Theft. This will probably be deleted since it’s useless, dumb, and my word count is exceeding far beyond what I’m comfortable with. So enjoy some stupidity while I crawl in a hole and cry.

-- Identity Theft, CH29 --

It was around the time the sun had set, the starry night beginning to shine through the skylight ceiling that Tony had stepped away to make a brief phone call.

When he returned — not even a full ten minutes later — the group had huddled towards the largest wall of the room, having taped up his once framed and favorite Iron Man poster. The imitation design of the ‘Obama Hope’ campaign stuck out like a sore thumb against the sleek, gray walls, yet almost blended in perfectly with the bright red and blue garland hanging down from the ceilings.

A few feet in front of it, Sam was spinning Clint in a circle, the archer blind-folded from Bruce’s green striped necktie. His eyes nearly bulged out of his head at the sight, his hand barely managing to stuff his cell phone back into his blazer pocket.

“Hey!” Tony shouted, storming forward. “What’s this? What the hell is going on?”

Sam’s grin was all teeth, his hands firm on Clint’s shoulder as he forced him to come to a stop.

“Pin the tail on the Iron Man,” he explained with such nonchalance that Tony almost doubted his own hearing, going so far as to dig his index finger around inside his ear.

It took a beat for him to realize they were serious, even after he loosened the built-up wax that may have made him imagine such an absurd statement.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Tony muttered, affronted. “Should I even ask how you managed to get your hands on this?”

Natasha grinned at Tony’s disgruntlement, crossing her legs and letting her heel sit against Bruce’s thigh. “Pepper was gracious enough to offer it up as a party favor.”

Tony’s eyebrows shot up with a sense of shock he couldn’t articulate. Instead, he looked between the red, yellow and blue Iron Man poster to back at Natasha.

She smiled sweetly at him.

He turned to stare incredulously at Bruce, who — for someone who appeared highly entertained by the game — shrugged with remorse. Tony could see through his poorly concealed veil as if it were sheer lace; after all, it wasn’t like the others would risk a code-green by bullying his dress tie off of him.

“Alright, count of three.” Clint teetered his hand back, the dart clenched tightly between his fingers.  “One...two...”

Tony snatched the feathered-tip dart from him before he could throw it. “You even think about it, Barton...”

Clint pulled the makeshift blindfold from his eyes, frowning with little heat behind the expression. If anything, he looked to be holding back a smirk that Tony was sure he’d easily wipe off his face with one blast of his repulsor beam.  

“That,” he gestured to the poster with the dart, “piece of art was not created for your childish amusement.”

“Art, vanity—” Clint shrugged, snatching the dart back. “Do you even know the difference?”

Tony glared.

Clint smiled, the cocky smirk he had clearly been resisting finally pulling at his lips. Before Tony could even blink, he threw the dart forward, never once even glancing at the wall as he did. To no one’s surprise, it hit dead-center on the poster.

To Tony’s annoyance, the archer blew a puff of air at his fingers, further cultivating his air of arrogance.

“Okay,” Bruce got up from the sofa with a grunt, leaning his hands on his knees before standing tall. “That’s enough of that.”

Tony waved his hand towards his friend. “Thank you —!”

“Clint stole my turn two rounds ago, it’s time I get a shot at this.” Bruce smiled stupidly, enjoying the moment far more than expected as Sam wrapped the tie around his eyes.

It took an alarming amount of effort on Tony’s part to stonewall the argument, let alone resist the urge to tear down his poster so he could hang it over Pepper’s side of the bed later in the evening. The latter he still wasn’t one hundred percent positive he wouldn’t do once the party came to an end.

He settled on rolling his eyes, relishing in Bruce’s horrible aim when the dart he threw hit way above the top of the poster. He didn’t understand what it was about having the kid around that turned the rest of them into immature brats, but had to admit that there was no desire to fight it. If silly games made them happy, who was he to put a stop to that?

It was then Tony noticed the kid was strangely absent from the group and their childish shenanigans.

It didn’t take long to find him, sitting quietly on a love-sofa towards the corner of the room. On the glass table in front of him were numerous textbooks, and he chewed on the yellow pencil in-between his teeth with harsh concentration. It appeared he had been left alone, what with Wanda and Vision catching up away from everyone else, and said everyone else preoccupied tearing holes into the large print of Iron Man’s face.

Natasha cheered loudly as her dart hit square in the eye-slit. “Ten points for me!”

“Wait, we’re doing points?” Clint sat up straighter on the couch, frowning. “No one told me there was a point system.”

Sam scribbled something down on the nearest notepad, never looking up at Clint as he answered, “There’s a point system. You’re excluded from it.”

#fanfiction #marvel #mcu #fluff #tony stark #irondad #spiderson #clint barton #natasha romanoff #sam wilson #bruce banner #steve rogers

[masshirohebi-moved]

🚔 — get arrested after committing a crime they don’t remember doing.

Both our muses are drunk! Send a symbol for them to…🚔 — get arrested after committing a crime they don’t remember doing.“This is your fault. It was your idea to go drinking,” they accuse, the first few words spoken since they blacked out from over indulgence.The cell is a lot colder now that the alcohol has left their system, the lights a lot more glaring, the disapproving looks of nearby Jounin far less funny. This entire ordeal leaves them groaning softly, their slender figure pressed against the furthest wall available to them. They feel a touch pitiful with their form tucked in to a small position on the concrete bench, arms draped around one leg which is drawn to their chest, their other leg lazily hanging off the side of the chair. They don’t have much care for the consequences of being accused of a crime, only regret for having drunken that much alcohol.They don’t know how they managed to sleep in the frosty holding cell, but awakening in the office beside their comrade wasn’t how the imagined their morning when they’d agreed to go out with him. They soon notice however, that whatever cold they are complaining about must be even more prevalent for Jiraiya. For somewhere along the line during that blacked out and blurry night, they had accosted him for his haori and kimono shirt.

So while they are left bundled in their own kimono and two layers of his attire, he is very much offered little but a fishnet shirt for his upper half. The sober voice in their head reminds them it may be time to offer these items back, the shivering and sick part however is far more selfish. Surely, he’d ask if it was important. While they can’t for the life of them remember much of last night (though they do try their hardest), they do remember that the two had a mission briefing. Running a hand through the top of their ebony hair, they softly mutter this reminder to Jiraiya.“We’re supposed to meet Tsunade for our assignment in the next-” they look up and check the clock hanging outside their cell, before a resigned sigh falls from their lips at the realization, “two hours ago.”Well, too late to be worried about that then.

“He’s going to notice if you take it,” they chide, the glass in their hand already a touch less sturdy looking. It sways from left to right, threatening to spill until they bring it to their lips, “you’re a six foot walking disaster. And he knows you by now, you’ve already asked a dozen times.”When the bartender started to decline the two Sannins business, perhaps it had been a good sign that the night of drinking should come to a steady close. Of course, having been trained in tenacity (and both being terribly stubborn and crafty), the situation of not being served only turned in to a challenge of finding a way to get alcohol anyway.And somehow, they didn’t think Jiraiya’s talent in stealth would prevail this time around. Not when the mere task of walking was less… coordinated.“We can’t steal it, but we can get someone else to get our drinks for us,” they say, still forever a strategist even amidst their drunkenness. And they sight a target immediately, “the man over there, he’s been staring since we walked in. He’s got to be interested in one of us.”

It comes back to them in flashes, but the face of the man that they had managed to convince buy them more drinks is a blur. What was his name, Ara-something, or was is Ari-something? They don’t have the faintest clue anymore, as they finally get bored of sitting on their bench of misery and pry themself away from the warm bundle they had created. This was nonsense, the only thing keeping the two Sannin within the metal cage was their decision to be compliant. But the serpent knew for certain at least three easy ways out.“Excuse me,” they say with a clear show of impatience, trying to get the attention of one of the Jounin. Something tells them that while they were drunk, they had been just as difficult and vocal as they were currently about to be. For every man and woman in the office instantly bristles and ignores them. Almost as if the officers would sooner be carving their own eyes out than dealing with the pale inmate.

A steely look of annoyance crosses their features before they look over to Jiraiya. Dragging him in to their rebellion without bothering to check if he felt like being more diplomatic this morning, “you know, I bet these walls wouldn’t last very long against your rasengan.”And that appears to be all they need to say before troubled gazes finally look over to the Sannin. Which earns the indigent viper just enough time to meet eyes with one of them, and to force the Jounin to finally give in and deal with the ornery convict.

So their brilliant idea of getting others to provide drinks turns out a touch less brilliant when they and Jiraiya are kicked out the bar. In to the cold streets with a man, Aki-something, and his overly chatty trio. Something about being denied drinks at all has the two Sannin on a mission of locating more and more. Even if the scent of sake alone has started to make the vipers stomach turn. It isn’t long before Aki-something leads them to their next round at his house.And it is equally as short before he makes it clear his eyes had been on the taller Sannin. The serpent would be lying if they said they didn’t take a little insult, their vanity one of many sins. Either Jiraiya is oblivious by ignorance and alcohol, or he has mastered the art of socializing more than the serpent gives him credit, but he’s not falling in to any of the traps this Aki-something sets.His lack of reciprocation of course, doesn’t stop the serpents growing jealousy. And somewhere between their second glass, they’ve decided this unknown man is pushing his luck. By the third, they’ve decided Jiraiya ought to do something about it. By the fourth, they’ve decided that Jiraiya is an incompetent idiot, and that they are the only one capable of saving him. By drink five, they’ve found their way on to Jiraiya’s lap, tilting his chin in their direction as they cut off all conversation with a rather deep kiss. A kiss that takes too long to be called that for very long.They don’t put much effort in thinking whether they acted upon a well devised plan to rescue Jiraiya from unwanted attention or if they simply wanted to spite the man for not choosing them, and Jiraiya for daring to have even a second of wavering attention. But with his arm around their waist, and his tongue wrestling with theirs, they don’t truly need to fuss with the details.

Slim fingers coil around the paper handed to them, glossing over the report to locate the reason for being detained. It isn’t long before they find the short but accusing list, and they take the liberty of reading it aloud for the sake of Jiraiya behind them.

“Disorderly conduct for disturbing the peace, exhibiting threatening behaviour in a public space and destroying private property,” they say, they glance over to Jiraiya next, to assess him for any signs of guilt, or to hope he may have more memory on the subject than they do. But he appears to be just as clueless, hungover and fed up as they are. He also looks a touch cold, if the chills across his skin are any indication beneath his fishnet shirt. They eventually hand him his haori, keeping his slightly over sized kimono shirt for themself, while they mull over the list.

‘Just leave him’ Jiraiya had said, ‘we got free drinks’ he had insisted, ‘he was just being petty’ he attempts. But something about the mans ratty comments after their successful act of stealing Jiraiya’s attention made the serpent irritable. It was only after an argument when searching for their seventh drink that they and the man had a spat. Which got the two Sannin kicked out of their drinking venue a second time. What had he called them again? A Kasha, if they recall.They don’t manage to remember much about the myth, only the basic outline to understand his insult, a jab at their eyes no doubt, and less than human appearance. A yokai known for theft and preying upon bodies. But if they recall one other detail, it was the creatures affinity towards fire. That fact enough incentive for their drunken mind to decide to leave a small parting gift.“You didn’t leave anything there did you?” they ask, as they are pulling Jiraiya’s kimono shirt over their shoulders. When the taller Sannins answer is a definite ‘no’ the serpent glances back at the first floor apartment, the scent of smoke touching their senses.“Good.”

The words ‘destruction of private property’ and the removal of Jiraiya’s clothing do spark the final blurry memory. How they spotted the flammable looking shrubbery around the mans apartment, how they thought it appropriate to discreetly set his home alight on their way out. Because him having the final word was certainly not on their agenda. So maybe it was their fault… rather than Jiraiya’s innocent suggestion of drinking.But if he couldn’t remember the fire, then perhaps he wouldn’t remember the making out. Or how they had fought with someone in a clear show of jealousy, how they had managed to say ‘I’m in love with him’ without actually saying any of those words, their actions alone testament. All in all, it is a form of self preservation to not remind Jiraiya of anything. To hope this show of ignorance is not an act, and that he truly had ingested enough alcohol to forget. So it is a mixture of pride and embarrassment, that they toss the paper back with an indignant, “it wasn’t us.”

#peepingtoad #||●ANSWERED-❝disclosed❞ #this is messy and long #enjoy :')

[elsewhereuniversity]

Elsie

Elsie is not a particularly threatening name all things considered, nor one tinged with any sense of nobility, or power. It is not what one would expect. After all the name is common place enough in many realms, a standard name, plain. Yet in EU it thrums with strange energy, the handful of new students that unknowingly take it up as their own quickly slipping it for something sweeter, milder. The rush of silence overwhelming, filling a vacuum the fools thought already full of the stuff. The violent prickling under your skin only felt when facing a foe at its most dangerous, when its cornered. That is what these unknowing “Elsie’s’” face each time they dare introduce themselves as such. The sole, undivided attention of every Fae on campus, and many off as well. As soon as they drop the name they are swiftly forgotten, they are not The Elsie. They are not a threat.

None but the Fae know why this name is so feared, it remains as much a mystery to the most gifted witches and the most cunning tricksters. Not even the librarians could successfully barter for such knowledge. The more daring students joke that Elsie is the Fae’s Bogeyman, and are often punished justly for such an offence, presumably by the Man himself. The more curious students ponder upon whether the name is mere title, possibly even an abbreviation of Elsewhere. A theory ridiculous enough that the Fair folk do not even dignify with ominous stares. One student, too exceptionally bright for their own good, suggested there might be some kind of prophesy, that it would explain such unfounded fear of a name. They of course were Taken, and none could return them.

A strange quirk to be sure but apparently not strange enough to single it out amongst the ocean of quirks the University called its own. Not even enough to make the monthly Top 100 List Of Strange Quirks published by the University’s Journalism Society (article discontinued early on due to ‘finger theft’, some things are best not drawn attention to).

All in all, for the students and faculty of EU that were not Of the Fae, Elsie was little more than a mild inconvenience. One of a long list of words and phrases best not thrown around. Until she wasn’t. Until she came to EU, fresh faced, surrounded by her peers, and ready for her first year at University. Her chosen name was Phonics, not Elsie, as few names self-selected speak of true power. To most Phonics was decidedly unremarkable, pleasant enough, perhaps too often making use of obscure phrases and terminology to be reliably coherent, but that is only to be expected of a Linguistics Major. Even her roommate, a warlock of varied abilities could not detect anything of note.

The Gentry however knew who she was the moment she stepped over the threshold. As one they heard her first breath in Their domain and they shuddered. Initially she was known to all as Phonics and nothing else, The Fair Folk knowing better than most that belief can be a dangerous thing, can manifest reality so very easily.

 Despite this, as weeks, months, years passed the name Elsie spread throughout the Fae, as did her exponentially growing list of inexplicable talents, gifts and knowledge. The unremarkable girl became decidedly remarkable and remarkably terrifying to the Gentry. One of the few students to never need any form of defence; no salt lining her windows and no iron marking her person.  It was well known that a friendship with her was a valuable asset, it promised almost unrivalled protection. Her year broke records for the fewest number of disappearances, the changelings actively avoided even being in the same building as her. Most of the student body regarded her as a lucky charm. There was the few perhaps wiser and more experienced that questioned what exactly could fill the hearts of the Fae with such dread, whether someone of something like that should not be more of a concern. But as her student life continued without incident most simply accepted her as just another aspect of student life at Elsewhere.

Not for us though, not for The Gentry. It wasn’t until her final year at Elsewhere that I took those treacherous steps towards the dim fluorescent light filtering out of her dorm room window. Through some fluke she had managed to attain a room for herself, one that she did not have to share with a roommate. Unfortunate, she seemed less threatening when with her human peers. I tried not to shake as I removed every last scrap of glamour from my form and even forced myself to let out a glow, so I could very clearly be seen through the eve’s shadows. Queens forbid I even slightly startle her. I raised a fist to gently tap on her window, even as one of the Fae, manners had never before been so important as they were in that moment. She was typing up an essay with fingers improbably quick, hair falling out of a perfectly messy bun to frame her face- each curly strand curving with the signature grace of one of Us. I couldn’t quite bring myself to knock, she was clearly busy, how might she react if I interrupted her? I stood frozen in my indecisive terror until to my horror her voice swirled through the glass and into the night.

 “Well are you going to knock or what? As lovely a statue I’m sure you make I worry that you would threaten the equilibrium of my oeuvre.” She did not stop typing, or even spare a glance in my direction as she spoke. I couldn’t be sure her lips moved, was it even her voice I’d heard? She sighed, hit a final button and stalked towards the window, opening it wide.

“Fine dearie don’t knock, I’m tired of such formalities anyway- just come in, I assume you’re here to make the usual deal?” Managing to shake myself out of my haze I nodded and ever so gently manoeuvred my many long limbs though the small opening, crouching so my horns didn’t scrape the ceiling’s paintwork. She in contrast practically threw herself into her desk chair, yawning and elegantly slumping back.

“So, you wish to also have that same slim chance at controlling my immeasurable power that I have given others of the Fae? Two letters of my true name?” That beautiful combination of fear and excitement flowed through my entire being. I licked my lips and nodded once more.

“What would you give me in return then? What do you have to offer?” Her eyes felt harshly analytical as I reached to my head and scraped off three long, twirling shavings from my horn and presented them in an open palm towards her. I tried not to flinch as she took them from me.

“Huh, yeah I guess I’m running a little low.” She casually pulled open a draw and my ears drew back in disgust at the grisly contents. At least a dozen little boxes and jars, filled with assorted remains of my people; hair, blood, claws… even what looked like a heart. She dropped my precious shavings in a jar and closed the draw once more.

“I’m afraid those are only worth one letter at this point. Basic economics, their scarcity value has clearly plummeted-” when I did not respond she rolled her eyes and continued, “- so in fair trade I give you the letter ‘L’. Now if that will be all…” she turned back to her laptop.

“No!” I wheezed out, unable to stop myself. I needed the other letter too, I needed the same chance as the other Gentry, no matter how small.

“So, you do talk, I was beginning to wonder. What else does a lower Fae such as yourself have to barter?”

“The Sight; True Sight.” I cursed myself even as I uttered those words, but I was so desperate. She looked at me almost pityingly, and with endearment.

“That has not been a skill I lacked for a long time now.”

The most valuable gift I had to offer, and It wasn’t enough.

She inhaled deeply, “Perhaps instead I could suggest an option, your scent is one of my favourites I’ve come across, even for one of the Fair Folk. Would you be willing to part with it?”

A Fae’s scent is often a key factor in luring hapless humans, mine being no exception, but of course I agreed. She requested it in a bottle, which she placed next to two others that sat on her vanity.

“In fair trade I give you the letter ‘C’, and now I expect you know how to refer to me.”

L & C, LC…Elsie. Of course, the answer had always been there.

“I thank you for these trades Elsie.” I began to take my leave but found myself pausing. She noticed and shook her head;

“I will not trade you any more letters, you get two, same as the rest.”

“I do not ask for letters, I wish to know- I wish for information for curiosity’s sake, not out of greed or self-preservation.”

“Interesting, unusual even. What information would you ask of me?” Her eyes narrowed but a hint of a smile touched her lips.

“What is the great power you possess that renders you such a threat? How did you gain it? Are you even truly human? What makes you different to the other students that roam this campus?” The questions spilled out in a stream as I realised I certainly had no way of paying for such a bounty of information.

She let out a peal of laughter, nauseatingly melodic, “You wish to be told my story, I admit it is one I am rather fond of. You will be the only one to have heard it and perhaps for that reason I will trade it for practically nothing, a pretty stone for each day I reside here and a promise not to repeat a word of what you learn. Are these terms acceptable?”

For such a generous offer I nodded enthusiastically. And so, she began.

She told me of how on her first day she knew nothing of who she was, the role she was to play. She came to Elsewhere due to natural intrigue in a people so clever with words, and at first she was like any other student. She took the salt packets and iron pins from the RA, heeded the warnings about true names and dealings with the Fair Folk. However, it wasn’t long before she realised that They were far too interested in her, that none of her peers were gaining anywhere near as much of their attention. After maybe the twentieth Fae approached her, attempting to trick her into giving away her True name whilst she was still young and naïve, she finally agreed, to an extent. Carefully selecting her words as to best circumvent any possible loopholes she made a deal, for each of her questions the fae answered fully and to the best of their ability she would give them one letter of her True name.

“Why are so many of the Fae desperate to trade for my True name over all my peers?”

And she learned of The Prophesy, as old of the university it spoke of her arrival, of a human impossibly powerful. She learnt that the Fae all wished to be the one to control that power, and by extension her.

For this she gave the letter ‘L’.

“What is the exact wording of this prophesy?”

And she learnt of the promise of one by the name Elsie, who would come to Elsewhere and possess power that would grow to outstrip all but the highest queens. That Elsie could one day destroy the Fae if they do not manage to stop her.

For this she gave the letter ‘C’.

That fae became the first to know to refer to her as Elsie, not Phonics. Coveting what little chance at her True name they had they refused to bargain with any other fae for the letters they had gained.

After that night she found the Fair Folk even more eager for even just the scrap of her True name she had given the first. Even the highest queens jealously bargained away whatever they must so that the others would not have this advantage over them. Elsie found she could gain any talent, any gift, any knowledge she wished. Trades were made to give her beauty and charisma, talent and grace, skills and knowledge, protections and power. She traded with the Fae for that which she could trade with her peers, with Witches and Mages and Librarians- she gained comforts and luxuries and further obscure power.

She told me this and smiled obscenely, teeth too white, lips too red and corners too pointy. She spoke the truth I’d already begun to unravel and confirmed my fears.

“The thing is that when I came here I had no power, nothing but a way with words and slight talent for being cunning. It was the Gentry that gave me the power you all so fear, so lust for. It was your envy and greed, your need to hold my supposed power over each other. I have made trades with countless Fae for the promise of an infinitesimal chance at gaining the power they themselves are giving me, and I will continue to do so until there is no one left to make the arrogant gamble.”

I left with shame and disgust heavy in my heart. As promised every day until her graduation I left a pretty rock by her window and saw that sickening smile on the face of the monster of our own making. I’ve tried to warn the Fae who hadn’t yet made their trade not to give her yet more power but was unsuccessful. It would seem she had long since made a deal to prevent others taking advantage of any loopholes in her phrasing. I found myself unable to compromise the sentiment of the promise I made, unable to share her story.

After Graduation she left Elsewhere University and hasn’t been back since, I fear she is roaming other realms and gaining yet more power. I fear one day she with return and destroy the fae like the prophesy warned as when I left her room the night of our trade she spoke one final curse before she closed the window;

“There isn’t a single prophesy that isn’t self-fulfilling.”

x

#queen-quibbler #stories #long post #elsie #DISCONTINUED DUE TO FINGER 'THEFT' i'm horrified #love that #that LAST LINE #damn #lc #submission

[stagekiller]

RAM

Meme

{ always accepting :D }

  Two pairs of emerald hues reflect the white light of a fluorescent lamp. Awe is painted on two small, round, freckled faces. Inside a glass container sits a pile of fresh snickerdoodles, their crunchy, buttered surface glistening deliciously.

  Temptation heightens as both twins have tasted the heavenly delight that is Uncle Zachary’s snickerdoodles before; the satisfying crunch and soft, sweet insides… Jerome noisily sucks some drool back inside, much to his brother’s disgust. But Jeremiah’s face can only spare him an annoyed glimpse, for he too can’t resist the candy’s pull. Food is cooking in the background, a variety of smells mixing together in a distracting yet beautiful blend.

  Knowing that two young daredevils are fooling around his irresistible  creations, Zachary has set the container up on the highest shelf, ensuring that the only way to reach them would be to attempt a dangerous jump from the counter, risking to pull the entire container down and smash it noisily - thus, alert him to the theft. Both twins knew attempting to steal from Uncle Zach would have dire consequences. He could be brutal.

“ You can’t reach that high anyway.” Jeremiah mutters bitterly.  It’s spoken as a fact,  but all a Jerome hears is an insult. Green eyes narrow as he turns to meet his brother’s face. A dare lurks behind those words. And Jerome heard it very clearly.

  He’s not as controlled.  He’s got wildfire in his heart; it shows in his red curls that fly in all directions,  whilst his brother’s sit flat into a dull bob.

 But silent waters run deep.

 Jerome is not one to turn the dare down. Despite the threat of their Uncle coming back to check on those gargling pots, he makes a dash for the nearest counter. A risky attempt to jump once is performed; but he indeed can’t reach. Determination fuels his next one. The light ‘tap’ of his shoes touching the counter each time increases the chances of alerting Zachary with each failed attempt. But Jerome is blissfully ignorant to danger.

 And if he wants that snickerdoodle, he is going to get it.

  One more try; this time he managed to touch the container’s lid, slightly pushing it back. Sweet scent keeps him going. A little hand manages to slide behind the glass, tilting it to his direction. And another one - now it’s getting noisy - the tips of his fingers graze the buttered surface. Then another one and  ! -

 A light thud announces his return to the ground, face glowing with PRIDE.

  Green pupils twitch lightly, as an inquisitive gaze scans his brother’s face for a reaction. Jeremiah seems… not pleased with the outcome.

  His thumbs press on each side of the snicker doodle,  pushing down to break it in half and expose its soft insides.  The gesture is sourced partly in brotherly affection and partly in the desire to shove his victory in Miah’s face.

  With a triumphant smile, Jerome steps closer and holds out half of the treat to his brother’s direction. Miah’s hand reluctantly takes it, mouthing a quiet ‘ Thank you ’. He is not sure if his brother said it out of an instinctive reaction, the reflex to act politely, or if he meant it. But he offers a warm, albeit smug, grin in return.

 Vanity stops him from spotting the threat fast enough,  however.  By the time Miah’s expression melts into fright,  Uncle Zachary is already towering over the child,  his shadow cast on Jerome’s back like a vulture circling prey.

“ Well,  well,  what do we have here.”

 The voice makes all hair on his neck stand on edge. A reflexive attempt to jump forward is made, but the results are poor; Uncle Zach’ has grabbed the rim of his shirt before he has a chance to make a run for it.

“ I’m sorry!  I’m sorry! ” Pleas ensue within an instant. But Zachary doesn’t sound moved. His voice holds a sinister tone, enhanced by the fact Jerome knows his Uncle is going to beat him until he won’t be able to walk.

“ You know what they did to thieves in the old days,  nephew?” The boy struggles in Zachary’s grasp, but the man is three times his size. It’s futile. His little feet kick against the floor all in vain.

“ They cut their hands off! ”

  Tiny hand is yanked into a boiling kettle. Thick soup is bubbling inside. Jerome’s shriek tears the air in half ! Excruciating pain forces his little body into a writhing frenzy, mouth foaming as he bites down on his lower lip hard enough to draw blood.

                “ I told him not to do it Uncle! ”

                                “ Jerome, I told you not to do it! ”

                                                   “ Please don’t hurt him, Uncle! ”

… what had he said back then, Jerome can’t remember …

  Stench of burning flesh swims in the air, filling his nostrils; drowning him.

      Sizzling assaults his ears, blocking out all other noises; even his own screams.

“ Don’t ever try to pull that shit on me again,  you hear me? ”  He shakes the child back and forth by the arm,  shoulder popping as fragile bones strain under the pressure. “ Cause next time I’ll stuff your face in the boiler ! ”

   A desperate, blurry gaze lands on his brother, seeking HELP, even consolation through a glance; pigeon begging for crumbs.

 How pathetic.

  Jeremiah’s standing beside Uncle Zachary, his aura calm, serene. Jerome is even willing to interpret that as comfort; at least he didn’t leave, he hasn’t run off. And then his twin lifts a hand to rosy lips; He’s eating the snicker-doodle.

       His share too.

                      HIS share too !!

 … at least that’s how Jerome remembers it  ….

“ Why does Lila keep you around,  I’ll never understand !!  She’s better off tossing you in the river ! ”

He can’t remember how he dragged his sore little legs all the way home that day.

 Warm tears POUR down his face; and the rainfall won’t stop any time soon, as sobs get louder by the second.Uncontrollable shaking takes over, shoulders jumping with each spasm as the child breaks down in front of the circus wagon. His loud weeping unsettles the long python curled in a red painted cage beside him. He rocks back and forth, clutching his burned hand, now covered in bubbling skin, stinging with mind-numbing pain.

  Then, suddenly, a small hand tenderly rubs his shoulder.

                                 “ Does it hurt? ”

  Miah’s soft voice conveys some genuine concern. His light touch could be soothing, especially as he slowly takes a seat behind his brother, brows scrunching up and gaze softening. It looks like he might even offer a hug… But Jerome’s eye picks up on a little smirk playing at the corners of his brother’s lips. And he KNOWS the expression all too well from himself.

 His left eye twitches lightly; a premonition.  Aggravation peaks as tiny hands jerk to wrap around Miah’s throat,  the force alone capable of knocking his brother over,  despite Jerome being slightly smaller.

  Grip grows forceful as the child yells incoherent curses, growls and grunts like an animal. In between choking and putting up a weak resistance,  brother dear manages to cough out;

“ MOM!  MOM HELP -”

#{ goldcnblood } #child abuse // #You'd better not forget to clap! || {Asks answered} #{ Headcanons }

[stirlingmoss]

And do not eat up your property among yourselves for vanities, nor use it as bait for the judges, with intent that ye may eat up wrongfully and knowingly a little of [other] people's property.

{Besides the three primal physical needs of man, which are apt to make him greedy, there is a fourth greed in society, the greed of wealth and property. The purpose of fasts is not completed until this fourth greed is also restrained. Ordinarily honest men are content if they refrain from robbery, theft, or embezzlement. Two more subtle forms of the greed are mentioned here. One is where one uses one's own property for corrupting others - judges or those in authority - so as to obtain some material gain even under the cover and protection of the law. The words translated "other people's property" may also mean "public property". A still more subtle form is where we use our own property or property under our own control - "among yourselves" in the Text - for vain or frivolous uses. Under the Islamic standard this is also greed. Property carries with it its own responsibilities. If we fail to understand or fulfil them, we have not learnt the full lesson of self-denial by fasts.}

#2:188 #The Heifer

[the-funtime-autocrat]

John Alfred Alexander Lee DCM (31 October 1891 – 13 June 1982) was a New Zealand politician and writer. He is one of the more prominent avowed socialists in New Zealand's political history.

Lee was born in Dunedin in 1891, the son of Alfred Lee and Mary Isabella Taylor. His parents were not married, and at the time of his birth, they had already separated due to his father's gambling and alcoholism. Lee's mother had little income, and the family experienced considerable financial hardship. Lee did not do well at school, and he was often truant.

In 1905, he left school to work, and became involved in petty crime. In 1908, he was convicted of theft, and served time at a boarding school for juvenile delinquents. He attempted to escape several times, and was eventually successful. After wandering the country for a time, he found work in Raetihi, but was then jailed for liquor smuggling and breaking and entering.

Three years after being released, Lee enlisted in the New Zealand Expeditionary Force, and served in World War I. He was awarded the Distinguished Conduct Medal for action at Messines in June 1917, but was repatriated after being wounded in March 1918 and losing his left arm. He arrived back in New Zealand in July 1919, and established a small business. Lee wrote a novel Citizen into Soldier in 1937 inspired by his wartime experiences. [1]

Not long after returning home, Lee became active in the Labour Party. Lee had been a committed socialist for some time, having read a large amount of Marxist literature over the years. He is said to have heard the speeches of Bob Semple and Harry Scott Bennett through the bars of his jail cell, and in the army, he had been known as "Bolshie Lee" for his views. Lee's status as a veteran was considered valuable by the Labour Party, as the party's anti-conscription stance had caused many to brand it unpatriotic — Lee, a decorated and wounded soldier, was able to counter this perception quite effectively. By 1920, Lee was on the Labour Party's national executive.

In-between the 1931 and 1935 elections a division of opinion began to manifest in the Labour Party caucus as to whether loans or credit should be the primary method of funding economic recovery and end the effects of the Great Depression. As a result, financial affairs were beginning to dominate party policy and general Labour concerns. This led to the development inside caucus of a monetary reform group, mainly from the more militant socialist wing of the party under the leadership of John A. Lee.[1]

Throughout the 1930s many Labour MPs had communicated clumsily on the concept of credit leading to confusion as to the party's exact position. This left Labour in a difficult position when eventually elected.[2]

When Labour won the 1935 election with a large majority, and formed its first government, many expected Lee to enter Cabinet. However, Lee did not have the support of Michael Joseph Savage, the new Prime Minister. Savage appears to have considered Lee too radical and uncontrolled, while Lee considered Savage too cautious. The two had clashed on a number of policy issues, and in the end, Lee was not awarded ministerial rank — instead, he became an under-secretary. This position did not, however, have any legal authority until the following year, when Lee threatened to resign. Given responsibility for housing, Lee quickly moved to implement a "socialist" plan for state housing, with the construction of many new dwellings for the poor.

While Lee was highly enthusiastic about his housing program, he became increasingly unhappy with the new government's economic policies, which he saw as overly cautious. Lee gradually emerged as the leader of Labour's left-wing faction, opposed primarily by the more orthodox Minister of Finance, Walter Nash. Lee and his allies, as well as being strongly socialist, were influenced by social credit theory, and believed that the government should take immediate control of the country's financial system. Nash opposed this, and was able to block proposals put forward by Lee to nationalise the Bank of New Zealand. Gradually, Lee's criticism of the Labour Party's leadership became increasingly public.

Lee became something of a Young Turk in the Labour ranks. He seemed impatient with the party leadership which he believed to belong to an older generation. During the selection of his Cabinet, in both 1935 and in 1938, Prime Minister Michael Joseph Savage had ignored Lee's personal appeals for insertion, thinking him too wild and unconventional.[3] Eventually Savage compromised making Lee an Under-Secretary.[1]

After finally winning the Treasury benches, the initial sense of camaraderie and intra-party democracy which had given such vivacity to Labour, steadily declined as a result of the burdens of office. The senior leadership seemed somewhat inclined to simply disregard caucus decisions that they disliked leaving some MPs feeling begrudged. Credit theory was one such topic where this was prevalent. It was not always the case and in some instances Cabinet accepted public credit measures for projects, but only after being pushed into it by a large caucus majority. Lee and his socialistic allies, were also greatly influenced by social credit theory. They believed that the government needed to immediately take control of New Zealand's financial system. The fiscally conservative Finance Minister, Walter Nash opposed this, and blocked Lee's proposals to nationalise the Bank of New Zealand.[1]

Social credit is an interdisciplinary distributive philosophy developed by C. H. Douglas (1879–1952), a British engineer who published a book by that name in 1924. It encompasses economics, political science, history, and accounting. Its policies are designed, according to Douglas, to disperse economic and political power to individuals. Douglas wrote, "Systems were made for men, and not men for systems, and the interest of man which is self-development, is above all systems, whether theological, political or economic."[1] Douglas said that Social Crediters want to build a new civilization based upon "absolute economic security" for the individual, where "they shall sit every man under his vine and under his fig tree; and none shall make them afraid."[2][3] In his words, "what we really demand of existence is not that we shall be put into somebody else's Utopia, but we shall be put in a position to construct a Utopia of our own."[4]

Such antagonism between Lee's followers and Nash's highlighted a larger division. The older members enjoyed support of the trade unions. Hence, they were able to drive the party vehicle as they pleased. By contrast, the pro-Lee dissidents were mostly individual members who supported Labour out of their own intellectual morals and principles rather than out of possessing a working-class background.[4] Lee gained allies in the party who had such backgrounds and attempted a backbench revolt after the 1938 election to pressure the election of cabinet by the caucus. After a bitter debate amongst MPs the proposal was successful 26 votes to 23 however Savage over-ruled the vote and proceeded to inform the press that cabinet would remain unchanged.[5]

The episode became more and more public over time. That it should have developed in the way it did was largely the result of Lee's own personality. While he was generally conceded to have great intellectual and oratorical gifts, it was widely considered that excessive vanity and obstreperousness clouded his judgement.[1]

As well as arguing for a more socialist policy platform, Lee also criticised the Labour Party's internal structure. In particular, he sought to abolish the tradition of having the Prime Minister appoint Cabinet — instead, he wished Cabinet to be elected by caucus. This was rejected by Savage, and Lee began to portray himself not merely as a campaigner for socialism but as a campaigner for internal party democracy. This stance won Lee considerable support from those who otherwise disliked his views. Lee's attacks came at a time of considerable difficulty for the Labour Party — Michael Joseph Savage was now seriously ill, and World War II was breaking out.

Lee was censured by the Labour Party conference of 1939, but continued to attack Labour's leaders for what Lee regarded as Labour's failure to implement socialist policies. On 25 March 1940, Lee was finally expelled from the Labour Party. Lee subsequently published a further attack on Savage and his leadership of the Labour Party entitled "Expelled from the Labour Party for telling the truth: psycho-pathology in politics". Savage died two days later, and was succeeded as Prime Minister by Peter Fraser, a member of the faction opposed to Lee's left-wingers. Lee quickly announced the establishment of the new Democratic Labour Party, with himself as leader. He was joined by Bill Barnard, the Speaker and former Mid-Canterbury Labour MP Horace Herring . Others, e.g. John Payne, Labour MP Rex Mason and Independent MP Harry Atmore were sympathetic.

However, Lee soon alienated many of his supporters (including Barnard) with what was seen as an "autocratic" leadership style, ironic considering his complaints against Savage. In the 1943 election, the Democratic Labour Party put forward 52 candidates, including Keith Hay, Alfred E. Allen and Colin Scrimgeour (who stood against Peter Fraser in Wellington Central). The DLP won only 4.3% of the vote, Lee lost his seat to Labour candidate Frederick Hackett, and none were elected. Barnard stood as an Independent and also lost. The DLP did not stand any candidates in the 1946 election, but Lee stood as the sole DLP candidate for Grey Lynn in the 1949 election and got 2,627 votes, coming third.

Although his parliamentary career was over, Lee continued to write. He remained strongly hostile to the Labour Party, and denounced its leaders as traitors to the working class. In 1963, he published his political memoirs, entitled Simple on a Soap-box. He continued to comment on political matters for some time, although he surprised many with his defence of the United States in the Vietnam War. He was awarded an honorary LLD by the University of Otago in 1969. Lee died in Auckland in 1982. His wife, Marie (Mollie) Lee, had died in 1976. They had no children, although they raised Lee's three nephews after his sister's death.

#John A. Lee #Dissident Left #Dissident Leftist #Social Credit #Social Credit Theory #Public Banking #Public Bank #Economic Nationalism #National Economics #Labour Party #New Zealand #History Of New Zealand #New Zealand Politics #Politics of New Zealand #New Zealand Labour Party #Democratic Labour Party of New Zealand

[texanredrose]

"Is this a bad time to tell you I'm allergic to bees ?" Monochrome

I couldn’t resist. It’s all in good fun, y'all. It’s all in good fun.

Weiss kept her head down, pretending to focus on the script in her hands while surreptitiously glancing around the set over the lid of her espresso. As always, people were bustling to and fro, setting up for the next scene while the actors took a break, the noise of shouted directions and moving pieces covering the conversations all around her. Most of her co-stars were getting ready for filming to resume, some reading over their lines just like her while others joked around in character.

She shouldn’t say ‘others’ like there was more than one. Although a talented actor in her own right, Yang Xiao Long threw herself into roles a bit too vigorously for Weiss’ tastes, constantly keeping up a loud, boisterous, and downright grating attitude even when the cameras weren’t rolling. The blonde mellowed out considerably once they were away from the set but, even with all the requisite noise for installing a secret lair where an office space was a few minutes prior, she could still hear Yang’s voice rising above the din. Dealing with it on set was easy enough considering they didn’t share many scenes one-on-one and the presence of other characters kept the characters from holding the spotlight but the longer filming went on, the more it bothered her for… other reasons.

Finally, when blue eyes quickly lifted to scan around, Weiss found her co-stars suitably distracted, the director engrossed in yet another argument with the producer, and everyone else too busy with their own tasks to notice if she slipped away. By her estimates, she had ten minutes before she’d be needed on set, and she was going to take them. Leaving her copy of the script and her coffee behind, the woman quickly left the set, ducking behind a scaled down version of the city’s skyline to reach the backlot. Although today’s filming involved most of the major players in the show, a few were notably absent and waiting in their trailers to see if they would be able to get around to other scenes. Which was perfectly fine, Weiss thought with a little smile on her lips as she took another glance around before sneaking into the trailer marked ‘Blake Belladonna’ and locking the door behind her. Her sister would probably scoff at the lengths she took to ensure their relationship remained a secret but Weiss firmly believed their private lives should remain just that.

However… there were some notable downsides.

“Blake, what are you doing?” A frown curled her lips as the mischievous intentions she’d had dried up in the blink of an eye.

Her girlfriend of nearly three years- whom she’d started dating before they were cast in their respective roles- perked up, leaning away from her laptop to twist in her chair and look at her. “Nothing?”

“You’re looking at fanart again,” she said, the accusation holding only a little of the venom she could feel building behind her tongue, stepping up to peer over her girlfriend’s shoulder. Sure enough, the entire screen was filled with depictions of Blake’s character, both in and out of costume. Considering the show itself revolved around the lives of masked superheroes with mundane day jobs, there was a fair mixture of leisurely pictures with varying wardrobes alongside action scenes with the character’s alter ego. Now, normally, she would be completely fine with a little indulgence in vanity- she liked scrolling through fanart of her own character, after all- but this particular search turned up only one specific subset of pictures involving Blake’s character: ones that also featured Yang’s character.

Apparently, fans of the show- as fans often did- placed nearly every character in some romantic relationship or other, regardless if it was depicted in the show or not. And the ones who enjoyed 'shipping’ Blake with Yang? They were certainly… prolific.

“Aw, you’re pouting.” Blake pointed out, getting out of her chair to approach the other woman.

Not that Weiss was making it easy, of course; crossing her arms over her chest, she turned away slightly, tearing her gaze away from the screen. “I am not pouting.”

“Lying doesn’t suit you, Love.” Her girlfriend chuckled, wrapping her arms around the woman’s smaller form. Not only was Blake taller, now she was acting smug as she continued to tease. “Does it really bother you that much?”

“What? Is this a bad time to tell you I’m allergic to 'bees’?” She returned, sparing another short glare at the computer screen. Normally, she’d admit using such a clever term to refer to the fictional relationship between Blake’s and Yang’s characters nothing short of amusing, but years of being confronted with enthusiastic fans gushing over the 'ship’ had soured her perspective.

“Now you’re just being ridiculous.” Blake chuckled, pulling her into a hug despite her reluctance and pressing a kiss to her cheek. “You know I only have eyes for you.”

“I know,” she replied, relaxing into her girlfriend’s embrace. It was rather silly, wasn’t it? Getting worked up over other’s perceptions of fictional characters? The frustration was just an irrational response compounded by the discreet nature of their relationship. Perhaps she should just take Winter’s advice and stop trying so hard to keep the paparazzi out of her personal life. It certainly wasn’t doing her any favors. “Maybe we should just go public. Let the tabloids have more than just speculation- something concrete.”

“We could do that, but it won’t stop the fans.” Blake gave her a rueful grin. “We could shout it from the rooftops, put it in the show, and invite everyone to the wedding. Some people will still want to see Yang’s character and mine together in a relationship. That’s their fantasy.” She shrugged. “Why worry about it? I prefer my reality, so let them have their fun. It makes them happy.”

“You’re right.” She conceded with a soft sigh. The woman had a point; the legitimacy of their relationship wouldn’t matter to many. She’d, perhaps, on a few nights when she’d had one too few things to do and one too many drinks in her, dove down the rabbit hole to understand what other people saw in the 'ship’, and many of them had legitimate, positive reasoning behind their support. Who was she to begrudge them that?

“But do you know why I like looking at fanarts like these? The ones with Yang and I together?”

Weiss tilted her head back, looking up into her girlfriend’s smiling face. “No, actually. You’ve never explained your fascination with those other 'ships’.”

“It’s easier to appreciate the artist’s work when I’m not distracted,” Blake replied, leaning down to steal a kiss from her lips, a theft she was only too happy to allow. “If you are in the picture, though. Well, it’s hard to look anywhere else.”

“Now who’s being ridiculous?” She ducked her head, hiding the silly smile that came to her at hearing those words. Somehow, despite all the fawning praise over the years from being on various TV shows and movies, every compliment her girlfriend said seemed absolutely genuine and sincere.

Blake was probably the only person who could truly make her feel special and she loved the woman for it.

“I do like looking at fanart of us, though.” She continued, ignoring the charge laid against her in favor of nodding towards her laptop. “Hit the back button.”

This had all the markings of a trap. A prime opportunity to tease her about something or other but Weiss was willing to play along. Maybe, if she got it all out of her system now, they could enjoy the night once filming finished up for the day.

Reluctantly leaving her girlfriend’s embrace, Weiss stepped over to the laptop and did as requested, expecting the screen to fill with a similar array of pictures, except with her own character taking the place of Yang’s.

She was wrong.

She was very wrong.

“Sometimes, I like to play 'spot the difference’,” Blake said, sliding up behind her as she gawked at the images being displayed. True, this search turned up only the ones including her character and Blake’s, and she didn’t miss the little star icon in the corner identifying the page as a bookmarked favorite. However, they were decidedly… not safe for work, to borrow a phrase, and she’d intentionally avoided searches of this sort for fear of what she might find. Her girlfriend, apparently, had no such reservations. “They can only guess at things I know, and I find it a little… amusing.”

Weiss shivered as the words were whispered into her ear, Blake’s hands resting on her hips for a moment while she pressed into the smaller woman’s back. Blue eyes fluttered shut when a kiss landed just below her ear, prompting another shudder.

“Other times? Well, I have to admit.” She chuckled, fingertips teasing along the hem of her skirt while the other hand slipped under Weiss’ blouse. “They’re rather creative and it gives me… ideas.”

The last word, practically purred out and punctuated with a nip at her ear, destroyed what self restraint she might’ve been capable of dredging up. Weiss turned, hands burying into waves of midnight as she brought their lips together, backing her girlfriend up until they collapsed on the small couch set against the wall of the trailer.

Needless to say, she was late getting back to the set.

Okay, I’m going to admit I’m probably a little bit of an asshole for this, but it’s honestly what occurred to me first and I thought it was just too funny. A little meta commentary on how actors might view the… *ahem* content their fans create is just too tempting to pass up. My mind works in curious ways. Hope you enjoyed!

#Monochrome #TRR writes #Monochrome Actor AU

[divanquotes]

Charles Colville Franklin, Travels to and from Constantinople, 1829

Page 107: It is related, I think, by that quaint old writer, Busbequius, that the Turks (whose humanity to animals presents a strange contrast to their cruelty towards man) once deliberated in full Divan upon the expediency of ridding the capital of this canine nuisance. Many plans were proposed by which the object might be effected, and poison seemed to be the most ready and least troublesome means; but one of the Divan, being more human than the rest, observed, that the stench which would be caused by so many carcasses lying about the streets, would, in all probability, create a pestilence in the city, and cause a much greater nuisance than the one proposed to be abated. He observed, moreover, that it was against the precepts of their holy law to be cruel to animals, which are held by the Prophet to be irresponsible beings; he therefore propose, that the wisdom of the Divan should adopt a sort of mezzo termine, and ship off all the dogs for a small desert island in the Sea of Marmora; his perceptions of humanity not suggesting to him that the poor doggies would soon die there of starvation.

Page 118: April 19. — Today we want to see the Sultan go in great state to Mosque, and found no difficulty whatever in getting very near the person of his Highness. He is a handsome, fine-looking man, with very black eyes and beard. We saw some women present a petition to him, which is done by holding it over the head, and calling out to attract his notice. He stopped, and desired the Divan Effendi who followed him to take it, who placed it in a silk bag. I was very much amused with the Kislar Aga (or chief of the black eunuchs): this guardian of the purity of the Ottoman blood seemed to be of much more consequence than his Imperial Master, and bowed, and showed his white teeth, and blessed the people with his hand in all the consequence and vanity of his brethren of the coast of Guinea, or the Carribee Islands. The Selictar Aga, or sword-bearer, was a noble-looking Turk, and carried the sword of state with great majesty. The horses of the Sultan, richly caparisoned, were not the least interesting part of the show; and the imperial turban, borne before the Dulbendi Aga, seemed to be almost worshipped by the crowd.

Page 167: When I had finished my sketch, I joined the ladies of our party, who were sitting together upon a kind of temporary divan near a handsome fountain, in the foreground, and not far from the banks of the Bosphorus. Close behind them was a group of Turkish female, apparently of consequence, as thy were attended by two well-dress chaoushes, who remained at a little distance, with their heads turned directly another way, and by several black slaves.

Page 184: They tolerate the Greek, Armenian, and Jewish religions among them, because of the obstinate adherence of the several races to their belief, from which nothing but dat can separated them; and because, presupposing the total extermination of these sects, “what would the true believers do for slaves?” as was sagaciously remarked in full Divan, by one of its members, when upon the breaking out of the Moreote war, such an expedient was recommended. What would they do for bankers, dragomans, architects, engineers, artisans, merchants, etc, etc.?

Page 185: Again, the Turks are, personally, extremely brave, but so are all barbarians; and this quality is more than counterbalance by their want of discipline, tactics, and activity. Thy are generally esteemed for their veracity; and yet no government has ever been stand by so many acts of perfidy and atrocity as theirs. They are said to be honorable in their dealings; and yet they worship gold, and are sordid and avaricious, and will have recourse to any measures show tof actual theft, to obtain this sovereign good. Nay, they have a proverb, “Riches are power;” and it is notorious, that corruption has always been, and still is, the medium through which almost everyone is transacted in the Divan; that the Pachalicks and great offices are generally sold to the highest bidder, and that each great man has his agent at the Porte, to make a golden bridge to all his opponents in the council.

Page 198: “Sultan Mahmoud has given himself a vizier without talents, and of ordinary capacity. He watches over his Divan with extreme care, and leaves to it nothing but the symbols of power: he directs and regulates everything himself: better and sooner informed than his ministers, by means of a secret and active police, his measures are taken before the reports of his grand vizier have reached him. Active, laborious, impenetrably secret, a zealous observer of his religion, faithful to his word, sober, and a respecter of morals, Sultan Mahmoud may be justly look upon as a phenomenon for Turkey.” — Androssi.

Page 209: Almost the only buildings of stone in Constantinople, are the Seraglio, Eski Serai (or old Palace), the Palace of the Porte or Divan, the great Khans or Bazaars, the Mosques, Mausoleums, and, perhaps, a few Palaces of the great officers of state; the set of this immense city is built of wood; and, I must say, that however beautiful and picturesque it is from a distance, it is, in its interior, one of the meanest and most filthily disagreeable cities I ever beheld. Its population is very variously estimated; but I believe, from all that I could learn from persons who had ben many years resident at Pera, that four hundred thousand is about the number of its inhabitants, including those of the fauxbourgs of Pera, Galata, and Tophana.

Page 273: Mehmt Effendi was so much affected by what he deemed a proof of friendship, and a gentle rebuke for his own want of confidence in his old schoolmate, that he fell into the snare, as the Captain Pasha had foreseen. He immediately sent off his Divan Effendi to compliment him, and to entreat him to come on shore with as many troops as he might deem necessary for his own bodyguard, promising on his side, as a proof of good faith, that he would only keep an equal number of soldiers in Smyrna.

Page 295: Our party consisted of eight or ten, besides servants: we were all soon mounted, à la Turque, and rode on toward a little eminence, at the foot of which we found the Pasha’s Divan Effendi, and an Aga of Delhis, said upon their carpets, smoking in the shad cast by the hillock (for the sun was yet low). We alighted to salute them, and soon squatted down cross-legged like themselves, smoking the long chibouque, and drinking coffee with them.

Page 297: We soon remounted, and rode in great state through the olive grove, hatred by the river Cephisus, and saw several picquets of Albanian soldiers lying about under the trees; reaching the camp of the Pasha at about 11 o’clock, situated at a village upon the Via Sacra, and about three miles from Athens. We found his Excellency ill-lodged enough, in a dirty Greek kiosk, seated upon his divan, smoking, and driving away the flies with a little instrument made of horse-hair, of different colours; and having, like his own insignia, two tails. He was a most sinister-looking and ferociousv visaged Turk, squinting fatally with both his eyes, his butcher-like face overgrown with a most enormous and goat-like beard of black frizzled hair.

We were, however, well received, and placed upon the same divan with himself, — an honour only conferred by Turks upon people of distinction. We smoked and drank coffee with him, and opened a negotiation for seeing the Acropolis, but in vain. The Turk was offended because the frigate had not saluted him; and although this was satisfactorily accounted for, by the circumstance of the castle of the Acropolis not being in sight from the anchorage, still we saw that he could not overcome what he looked upon as a breach of etiquette. In vain the Captain offered to send orders on board to fire a salute: His Excellency was inexorable.

Page 299: We had then no remedy but to wait until the Pasha had dined and slept his siesta, when we hoped to find him in a better humour, and that Mr. Elliot's firman might turn up. We agreed then, after much discussion, that we had better accept the offer made us by a poor miserable-looking Greek Papa, (who they said was a bishop, and detained by the Pasha as a sort of hostage,) to make use of his house wherein to repose and dine. The care of Captains Sotheby, Dalling, and Martin, had supplied us with a most bountiful stock of cold viands, wines, and spirits; and we resolved upon making the best of our disappointment about the Acropolis, by enjoying a cheerful dinner among ourselves, inviting likewise the Divan Effendi, the Aga of the Delhis, the Kehaya, and the Greek bishop, to partake of our fare.

Page 322: We found his Excellency seated upon his divan, and surrounded by his Albanian guards. We were ushered into his presence with considerable pomp, and invited by him to seat ourselves on his divan. He told us that we were welcome, and that he was delighted to make our acquaintance, and so forth.

[whitegoldelephant-blog]

aa_3

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