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wiypt-writes · 3 years

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Murder, He Wrote

Part 3 Co-Written with @southerngracela

Summary: It’s Thanksgiving, but when you’re being held hostage by Hugh Ransom Drysdale there’s really not a lot to be thankful for, is there?

Warnings: Bad language words. MATURE (NSFW 18+) NON-CON situation, kidnap, violence. DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THOSE TRIGGER… READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!

Pairing: DARK! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N: So this is Part 2 to our submission for @Jtargaryen18 ‘s Haunted House 2020 Challenge. Once again READ THE WARNINGS!!!! This is a DARK Series… don’t @ us if you can’t follow simple instructions and end up with butt-hurt. And if you’re under 18…get off my blog.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and by writing it does NOT mean I agree with or condone the acts contained within. This fiction is classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar reader and any other OCs that may or may not be mentioned. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Murder, He Wrote Masterlist // Main Masterlist.

Part 2

You could feel the chill of the outside seeping into your space, your bones, through the vented window following your shower. The way it crept in made you realize just how far along through fall you were, maybe it was even approaching the onset of the holiday weather. Either way, a storm seemed to be outside. At least it felt like it. Once dried, you found yourself wrapping up tighter in the thick cardigan you’d chosen before you dried your hair, and allowed yourself a quick squirt of perfume before settled into the reading chair in the corner of your room, your journal on your lap.

The little, leather bound book had been in your handbag which had been given back to you earlier that morning as the latest reward for behaving and as you ran your hand over the deep brown cover, you couldn’t help the air of excitement you felt at having been given your treasured little note book, despite the dreary sky you could see from the porthole above your chair.

It had actually surprised you that Drysdale had kept it and not disposed of it the same way he had your phone and your car. But for whatever reason, he’d held onto it, and for that you were grateful. Grateful that you had something of your own from before this imprisonment to anchor too. You’d expected him to want some kind of favour in return but he hadn’t demanded any sort of sexual gratification, simply informed you he would be out most of the morning and would be back mid to late afternoon. As soon as he had gone you had eagerly tipped the contents of your bag onto the bed, almost crying at the sight of your half empty bottle of Coco-Mademoiselle, the Mac Lip-gloss, NYX Eyebrow pencil, Mont Blanc fountain pen, a full tube of mints and your treasured journal. With teary eyes you’d put everything away in its new place, apart from the book and pen before padding into the bathroom for a shower, deliberately sorting yourself out for the day. All you could think of was taking the time so you could savour the moment when you could hopefully make some sense of the jumble in your head by spilling it onto a page.

You opened the cover and flicked to your last entry, the morning of Halloween. A rambling rant about Mick-The-Prick filled the page and you paused, tears in your eyes, as you’d give anything to be stood in his office thinking about ingenious ways to kill him and get away with it. Ironic, really considering that was exactly what your captor had done; committed murder and gotten away with it.

You went to jot the date down in the corner of the page and realised that actually, you didn’t have a clue what it was. Down here, night bled into day, day bled into night…and soon it all bled into weeks. However, given the fact your cycle had been and gone a week ago you figured that it was maybe four weeks since Halloween. Of course, you could ask Hugh, but the less you had to ask him the better as far as you were concerned. You hate the fact that he had this hold on you, that you had to ask for and ‘earn’ things by being ‘good’. And whilst it made you sick to your stomach, you’d fast learnt it was easier to comply than rebel. The night he had left you tangled in your sweater had hurt. It had taken you a good twenty minutes to muster the strength to work your way out and drag yourself into a bath, your body shaking with the trauma, sobs wracking your frame. Your body ached for days, your mind in a post-traumatic cloud of despair. And whilst it hadn’t broken you per-say, it had certainly made you realise exactly what the bastard was capable of, and you had no intention of finding out just how much further he was willing to go.

So, in summary, it had taken Ransom Drysdale two days to break you into compliance.

You’d become passive, so to speak. You gave into his whims, let him use you as he saw fit, did as he told… for the most part anyway. There had been a few other incidents post the sweater one where you’d forgotten yourself and protested, fought a little and he’d gone hard on you, but nothing like that second night. Your passive behaviour was mistaken by him for compliance, and as such you had earned a number of rewards. The bistro table where you took your meals, a book or two which just so happened to be by his grandfather, a gesture you weren't sure was him purging or pressing an agenda onto you. And more recently and most preciously, your bag. But, the strange thing was, that whilst he wanted you to give into him physically, he seemed to enjoy the fact that you were in no way, shape or form compliant to him in others. You openly sassed him, bit back, called him out and he actively encouraged it. He’d started spending a little more time with you in the mornings and afternoons, not just visiting you to toy with you or fuck, but to engage in these little tete-a-tete’s, and the sickest, most perverted thing about it was that you were almost glad. The loneliness was crippling, and you craved company. Even if it was his.

All things considered, you’d rather ask him for as little as possible so instead, you flicked to the front of the book and crossed off the days on the small calendar inside the cover. Deciding that the date it led you to was as accurate as it was going to get, you turned back, jotted it down in the top right of your page and stared at the blank lines, looking to sort your thoughts for your next entry.

The saying used to go, what's in a name, however as I sit here thinking back on the last few weeks I wonder now what's in a day. My days consist of imprisonment. Held by a captor I have met once before. He's smart, almost too smart. Displaying forms of abuse and aggressive behaviors any FBI analyst would love to dive deep into. But that's not my job, no, my job is to please and satisfy him. Answer to his whims of gratification at any call of the day. I have nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. But if I behave, he lets few things get by. I miss home, my bed, my life. I miss Mick, which is saying a lot all things considered. I don't know still what he wants from me, other than the obvious sexual gratification with little to no room for anything else. I'm a toy, a means to an itch. I don't know how long exactly I've been here, I can only guess it's been about a month. Nor do I know how long I'll have to stay. The answers are blurred like my vision, marred by tears and the low light inside. I haven't seen outside since the day he took me. I haven't been anywhere outside this room. I can see from the small porthole window above this stupidly soft leather chair the season has changed. It feels like deep fall, and as a storm comes outside, what little sky I see is bleak and dark, clouds covering the bluest of skies, angry and ready to open up, raining down water to wash away the sins of the day. I wish I could do the same.

Before you realized, time had obviously passed, for the sound of the door bolts unlocking had you guessing it was late afternoon or early evening. A glance up at the porthole behind you confirmed as much. The sky was dark and rain had been beating on the window for a little while.

In came Drysdale, hair a bit wet, a strand slightly out of place, wool pants and maroon sweater. He carried a plate of food in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. He looked irked, like he'd wasted time on something, a look you were now able to decipher after weeks of seeing it.

"Happy Thanksgiving," he said, setting the plate down on the bistro table with its two accompanying chairs, waiting for you to join him.

Instead of biting back, you simply whispered, "it’s Thanksgiving?" You checked the inside cover of your journal and see the date again. You were a day off and it now dawned on you. It was the fourth Thursday of the month and indeed, Thanksgiving. You glanced back up at Ransom and a deep sadness washed over you. Closing your journal and setting it on the table by your chair, you stood, moving towards him and the plate of food. You took a seat and looked down at the plate, full of the holiday dish basics; turkey, gravy, mashed potatoes, stuffing, diced not candied yams and roasted green beans. It was gourmet and nothing near what he'd been serving you or managing to try. "Thank you," you said softly, rolling your fork through the potatoes. You take a bite but it's about as bland and tasteless as your despair.

"I brought it back from the country club, I met my father there," he looked under your gaze again, as if willing your eyes to his. "Do you not like it?"

Finally, your gaze met those cold cerulean orbs, setting your fork down and you took a drink of water, "No, it's fine." Then you picked up your fork again and took another bite, this time of the turkey and gravy. You didn't have it in you for an argument or it's physical ramifications.

"Are you not hungry?" Ransom pressed.

"I guess not as much as I thought," you repled further poking at your food, your voice cracking a little as you try to keep your composure. The sting of the holiday has you broken, far more than you'd expected. Normally, today you'd be helping your mother in the kitchen, settling the final touches on the side dishes and listening to your father tell your uncle about some a-typical dad joke he'd heard. Your sister would be giddy over the wine while her boyfriend of the month received death glares from said uncle and your father.

Ransom outwardly sighed and you wait for what you were trying to avoid. "Are you alright?"

The question threw you off guard completely and you struggled to hide the shock from your expression. He never cared about your feelings before. Maybe he thought you were coming down with something. You braced yourself to answer honestly. There was no point in lying, he'd see through it.

"I'm fine, I'm not sick if that's what you're thinking," you answered, a deep restraint on your tone to keep yourself in check. "I hadn't realized what day it was. I didn't know it was Thanksgiving." You swallowed the lump in your throat and blinked hard. "My mom, my sister and I, we used to all help make dinner as a family. My dad and uncle would talk a bunch of shit around the fireplace while shooting death glares at my sister's flavor of the month."

He looked at you like he was confused. You scoff, "Of course you wouldn't understand."

"What's that supposed to mean?" He squint his eyes, biting the inside of his cheek. His body language completely changed as he leaned forward on his forearms, popping one shoulder up higher than the other.

"Nothing," you backed down immediately.

"Tell me," he pressed.

God, he was relentless. You pushed your plate forward and leaned on your own elbows. You looked at him with a raised brow, "am I going to be in trouble if you don't like what I have to say?"

"Depends," he popped a shoulder smugly.

You matched his expression and his demeanour falters just a fraction. You saw it, but you didn't hold back. "Then I'd rather keep it to myself. That's what you want isnt it? Me to comply, be obedient? Frankly, I'm not in the mood."

He failed to hide his smirk and you noticed that too, "Sweetheart." It wasn't laced with teasing, rather his pet name for you on his tongue held a cautious venom.

"You hate your family. You know nothing about love and what it takes to give love. Hell, I don't doubt that for a minute you've ever felt loved. It's all an act. Self-preservation even. I don't know you or your family outside of the hours of research I did and the mere forty five minutes I listened to you drone on about your 'predicament'. But, the cold hearted truth of it is, you don't know how to love." You watched him run his tongue along his teeth as he continued to glare at you, but you weren't finished. "And that's what family is, it's what they do. They love, they are the embodiment of love at its deepest root. Maybe, just maybe somewhere along your life, your parents loved you, but judging by the Thrombey-Drysdale standards, none of you know what love is outside your selfish tithings and flashy cars. It got lost along the way, more than likely long before you ever were born."

"Wow," he raised his brows and clicked his tongue against his teeth, "That's good, that's really good."

You're fear receptors suddenly spiked as recognizable flash of anger in his eyes flashed through his irises. But there was something else there that you couldn't put your finger on it. Your breathing quickly up-ticked as you felt your palms begin to sweat.

He inhaled a deep, almost centering breath, "that perfume in your bag, I like it."

As if he'd grown a second head, you blinked hard refocusing on him. Had you heard him right? You'd just broken a rule, laid out an unspeakable truth for him and now in a blink he's, God forbid, complimenting your scent? Who the fuck was this guy? Was he on meds? Because he should be or he should at least probably share. It might make life here more bearable. "What?"

"The perfume from your bag, you're wearing it. It smells good," he lamented.

Alright, now the 'of sound mind' argument might be worth something because he sure as shit wasn't now. You swallowed and picked up your fork, taking a bite of the cold food just to buy yourself some time as you tried to process the scene before you. You had no remark to make. Confusing jumbled any thought of a coherent word you could utter.

"Maybe if I'm out, I can pick you up a new bottle. I noticed you were near empty," Ransom offered.

This was starting to make your stomach turn. If he'd gone through your bag, because why wouldn't he at this point, smelled your perfume, had he read your journal? You made a mental note to go back through and see if there was anything he'd read that he had used against you thus far or could use to corner you in the future. You looked around the room, waiting to see if you were being Punk'd. Just who the fuck is this guy? Without your expression giving too much of your confusion away, you nod at him in reply. "Thank you, I'd like that."

"Hmph," he paused, a dramatic effect he seemed to know that your heart rate up in anxiety. "Well, then why are you looking at me like I have two heads, Y/N?"

Tread lightly, you thought to yourself. He didn't call you by your first name often, in fact, the last time he had, you were very much smarting back and it resulted in a forceful situation that left you raw and sore for a few days. It was always 'Sweetheart'.

He baited you, you knew it, but you couldn't back out now. So you sighed, "I know I'm not supposed to ask questions, but, I don't even know who you are right now. Do you? One minute you're giving me food and being gentle, the next you're allowing my opinion, and now you're ready to flip this table. That's as close as two heads as it gets."

"Careful, Sweetheart," he now glared at you. There it was, you were in for it. The approach of choice, you weren't sure of, but he was done. You'd learned the different tones in his voice by now, the cues he gave. You were definitely in trouble. You dropped your eyes to your plate. The food stone cold and no longer even appealing in its slightest measure, a wave of nausea washing over you. You further pushed your plate away, "I don't think I'm hungry anymore."

His broad frame rose from the chair, "you weren't to begin with," his left hand reaching for the plate and holds it in his hand, "Third drawer down in the armoire. Pick something, I'll be back."

You watched him leave, the familiar click of the door shutting and snap of the lock sounded around the small apartment and you exhaled loudly, your head dropping into your hands. This wasn’t the first time he’d requested that you ‘dress for the occasion’ so to speak. With a deep breath you stood up and crossed the room, opening the drawer of requirements, seeking out a negligee for him to no doubt remove. Your fingers roamed over the fabrics and selection. La Perla, Agent Provocateur, Carine Gilson, Coco de Mer and Fleur of England were just a handful of the expensive, high-end brands that filled the space. Your fingers smoothed over a black macrame and tule underwired long line bra and the matching thong that was folded neatly under it. Plucking it from the drawer, you headed for the bathroom. You slipped out of your casual tee, duster cardigan and leggings, the bra and panties you'd had on. You sighed as you took a good look at yourself in your naked form.

While you hadn't lost a ton of weight over the last month, you could tell you'd grown thinner. You weren't gaunt but your lack of a daily Dunkin' Donuts macchiato had seemed to thin you out. Your captor made sure you were fed, but you didn't always eat. The plump of your cheeks had receded and your little pooch brought on by happy carbs was sucked into your frame. There were a few bruises still seen, near green, an indication of their final healing stage. The pock mark from a hickey he'd given you still a bit scaby as he'd broken the skin just barely. This was your life now and it made what few bites of Thanksgiving dinner in your stomach nearly lurch forward back up your throat.

You swallowed it down, pulling the long line bra straps up your arms and clasping it behind your back. Your legs slipped into the thong panties and you pulled the material up your freshly smooth legs. Your shaky fingers plucked at the hair tie that fastened the end of your brain closed, nails raking through your hair to loosen your tendrils. He always wanted your hair loose. You looked at yourself in the mirror, you were ready.

***** Ransom tossed the un-eaten food into the garbage and dumped the plate into the sink to be dealt with later. Turning so that his lower back was leaning on the edge of the kitchen counter he ran a hand over his clean shaven jaw, his mind ticking over the events of the day so far. A pain-in-the-ass Thanksgiving meal with his father had been made bearable by the fact he knew he was coming back to her, and because he hadn’t wanted to be a complete monster he’d made the effort of bringing her a nice dinner back too. But she’d hardly touched any of it.

And what disturbed him most about it, was the fact that instead of wanting to punish her for being an ungrateful bitch, he instead felt a deep rooted sense of concern. She’d lost weight, her face was pale, her hip bones more pronounced, and frankly the last thing he wanted was her passing out on him. Whilst he wanted her compliant, necrophilia really wasn’t his bag.

He had thought by giving her back the bag she’d had on her the night he took her he might have seen a lift in her spirits so to speak, a little gratitude, but instead she’d been meek and reserved until he’d coaxed that familiar sass out of her. And even then she’d been reticent.

It should have pleased him that she was learning her place and becoming more subservient. But if he was being honest with himself, he almost missed her fighting and arguing back. It had been exciting in a way, and he had thought it would have taken longer than it had to break her so to speak. Maybe he had overestimated exactly what a fighter she was, maybe she wasn’t the right muse for his writing after all. Because, let’s face it, writing a tale about a woman who was captured and broken into submission within two days, merely becoming a puppet for her captor’s whims was hardly going to win him any accolades was it? He needed more, needed something that he could spin a good story from. He knew now that when he went back down to her he had to try a different tact so to speak, he needed to coax her mind into reacting not merely her body.

Because if he couldn’t do that, there was no point in keeping her.

He allowed her half an hour or so before he headed back down the stairs and found her sat on the bed, dressed in one of the sets he’d purchased, her hair loose round her face and shoulders the way he liked. She jumped to her feet and he had to actively supress the groan that was rolling in his throat as his eyes scanned her up and down, and he didn’t miss the slight bruises that dotted her skin in various places where he’d marked her as his own. She’d long since stopped trying to cover herself up. Instead she stood stock still, her eyes focussed on the floor.

With long strides he walked into the room and stopped in front of her, tipping her chin up with his finger so she was looking at him, her eyes wide with trepidation and he gave a smirk as he reached up, brushing her hair off the side of her face and neck, dropping his head as he did so.

“You smell so good, Sweetheart.” He inhaled against her pulse point, lips pressing into her there. He felt the gasp of her breath, the way her skin pricked with chill bumps. He smirked to himself, he’s found her spot. And he filed that away, committing it to memory.

“I like this…” he practically purred as he toyed with the straps to the bra, a long, thick middle finger outlining the strap against her skin, lips following pursuit.

“You should, you chose it.”

He chuckled, ignoring the snark behind her words. “Like I chose you, huh?”

Like I chose you.

His words echoed around your head, reminding you exactly why you were in this fucking situation. Because he had decided you would be. He wanted you, and just like with everything else in his life that Hugh Ransom Drysdale wanted, he simply took. But what worried you the most about all this was whether or not you would be discarded the same way he no doubt discarded the other possessions he lost interest in.

You took a deep, steadying breath as his hands moved from the straps of your bra, long fingers moving to caress the back of your neck, but there was no grabbing, no force. He was being positively gentle.

And it scared the crap out of you.

“Are you afraid of me?” He asked, his breath hot and wet in your ear as you trembled under the further graze of his fingers against the macramé of your set.

“You know I am," you swallowed nervously. You weren't new to this, this wasn't your first time, but the way he was being soft, a stark character change to his a-typical stance with you was what had you crawling in fear in the inside. Was it a game? Was it some sort of ploy? Was this his idea of foreplay now before he turned it up and went hard enough to bruise but not hard enough to make you cry?

A flat palm ran down your abdomen, already taught in fear. But not before a thumb grazed along the underside of your breast. Agonizingly slow, his hand, still splayed over you, dips into your matching macrame panties, dipping into your wet folds, thumb lightly pressing against your clit.

“You’re so wet, considering you’re scared.”

You didn't answer, just swallowed hard, the lump stuck in your throat as it fought against a little whimper.

His mouth once more latched onto your neck, the kisses gentle as opposed to the bruising ones you had become accustomed to. The fingers in your folds matched his slow nature, teasing you in such a way that when you closed your eyes and focussed your mind elsewhere, you could almost believe you were somewhere with a man you’d given permission to touch you in such away. But when his lips moved to your jawline and you took a deep breath, the heady scent of his cologne hit your senses and your eyes flew open as you were reminded just whose lips and hands were violating you in such away.

You swallowed as Ransom pulled away, his hand gently grasping your chin once more as he issued a simple instruction.

“Strip for me, sweetheart.”

You took a deep breath, swallowing down the bile that had once more risen up your throat as he sat down on the edge of the bed, his legs bent, hands resting on his knees as he watched you the way a lion watched its prey. You undid the clasp on your bra, your eyes remaining locked on his as you slid the straps down your shoulders and dropped the garment to the floor. Your captor took a deep breath, his eyes flicking down your body as you moved to shed the bottom half, wondering what on earth had been the point of wearing it in the first place. But even as you asked yourself that, you already knew the answer. It was a bout power, another way for him to remind you just who you belonged to now. How he could strip you bare in more way than one without even lifting a finger.

But lift a finger he did, curling it in mid-air as he beckoned you towards him. You took careful steps over the floor until you were stood in between his legs. His large hands smoothed up the outside of your thighs, before he pulled you towards him, his nose brushing the skin of your abdomen as he took a deep breath, fingers curling round your thighs.

And then, in a flash he stood, taking you with him, and before you could so much as utter a squeak or noise of surprise he had you naked, laying across the bed, the sheets cold against your skin, a contrast to the heat emanating from the body against yours. The look in his lust blown eyes was overwhelming. You didn't know what you were in for but as his body, still clothed in the frayed maroon sweater and wool slacks sunk into the mattress between your legs, you felt a chill course through your veins, your skin, again, pricking in bumps all over. His hands, with their thick fingers, trailed long lines up and down your thighs, Ransom's full lips kissing at your sensitive inner skin, a nip or two here and there as he went from your knee, upward.

He could smell your arousal, see it glistening as it dripped from your core. "Someone's ready," he quipped. He watched you swallow hard, a literal lump in your throat bobbing the skin. Your eyes never left him. "No cumming until I tell you. Do you understand?" When you didn't answer immediately, he swiped his tongue over your wet lips, tasting the honey your body gave him, your back arching away from sheets. "Do you understand?"

And there it was, your punishment finally arriving from your little moment before over dinner. As you still had your wits about you, you uttered a single word response, in the hope that the more submissive you were, the more accepting you were of your chastisement, the less hard on you he was going to be.

"Yes."

His mouth expertly devoured every inch of you, from your inner and outer pussy lips to the depths of your walls, tongue fucking you like you he was starving, the lavish holiday meal he'd partaken in not filling enough. His thumb pressed against your engorged nub, causing you to writhe but a firm arm over your abdomen kept you in place. The same thick fingers that traced lines up your thighs, two were now buried deep inside you, his tongue working away any juices that seeped out. As he gave you a third, stretching you more, you felt your walls start to tighten, that burning coil in your belly flare and your hands gripped the sheets tighter.

Ransom could clearly feel you flutter against his fingers as he stopped his assault and looked up at you.

"What did I say?"

Your chest heaved, your stomach taught and you fought to obey. When you managed to calm yourself, he began again, almost from square one, slowly, tantalizingly slow.

The action was torture and you were desperately willing yourself to remain grounded as again your body fought to ride over the edge building inside you. When his mouth was over you completely, tongue deep, thumb pressing again into your clit, you felt the urge to cum. But he pulled away, slowly, his thumb stopping the pressure, his tongue slowly dragging out of you.

"I said no. This is your punishment for your smart mouth over dinner."

"Please, I need to, I'll... I'll make it worth your while, please just let me." Your voice sounded alien as you spoke, the words leaving your mouth in the desperate hope he’d take pity on you but to no avail. Your attempts at bartering served only to frustrate him, anger him even and he Ransom backed away, roughly pulling you to the edge of the bed before stripping out of his sweater and undershirt, the undeniable outline of his hard cock along his thigh strained against his wool slacks.

Harsh in his grip, he repositioned himself between your legs, your thighs across his shoulders, ass dangling above the floor as a heavy arm kept you still. His flat tongue, hot and full of your sex was eating away at you while his final throws of resolve ate away at him.

“I’m done playing fucking games.” he growled against your aching cunt “I should have gagged you, stuffed my cock deep into the back of your throat, something, anything to shut you up.”

You barely had time to register his words before once more you were flat out against the mattress, trying to regain your breath and calm yourself down when he backed away, tore open his flies and smirked down at you.

"Oh no, Sweetheart, we're not done yet." He kneeled beside you, his chest heaving, hair completely out of place, anger and wait, was that pain, flickering in his eyes as he stuffed you with a hard thrust of his length. "Now you’re gonna cum on this dick."

He thrusted hard and within a few slams of his hips against yours, he allowed you the release you were begging for, "that's right, Princess, cum on my cock."

You wept at the feeling finally freeing you, cries of pleasure spilling from your lips as you squeezed around him. Your chest heaving against his, skin to skin. The fabric of his wool pants hot and itchy against your inner thighs. He was still thrusting but now it had slowed to a roll, slow and calculated. Your muddled mind was buzzing and rapidly trying to sort out if he'd cum inside you or if he wasn't finished. His features were softer, but still filled with purpose and his lips latched onto a naked breast causing your body to react, tingles and flames licking at your core again. His eyes looked up at yours as he caged you in, still buried deep inside you, hips rolling.

"I said we weren't done," he rasped. His thrusts and rolls, the two very different tactics mixing now, made the swell of his cock inside you abhorrently pleasurable. Try as you might, it was impossible to feel otherwise.

And Ransom was finding it equally as hard to hold on. His weight was evenly distributed over her, his cock swelling inside her heat. It took all he had not to blow his load the first time he made her cum, hearing the sinful sounds of her orgasm that felt like a volcanic eruption around his hard shaft. But now he could feel her again, tiny little pulses around his already overtly sensitive dick. He was sure his precum was leaking out, wanting to paint the way for the rest of him to follow. He rolled and thrust as his lips nipped at her neck. She moaned loudly, her body exuding lust. He could feel her shake beneath him and to his delight and surprise her eyes were no longer screwed shut and turned away. Instead they were locked on his. The moment those deep hued orbs met his, he felt a hitch in his breath and tightness in his chest that travelled through his belly and into his cock, causing the thick member to throb inside her. Tiny, soft hands gripped at his biceps, her touch a fiery scald against his skin, almost as if it were frost bite. Her touch equally shocking as her stare and he gave a roll of his hips to hide what he felt. A deep, satiated roll of his hips that sent her over the edge.

"Hugh!" She came around him, harder than her first, crying out his given name. It snapped him from his moment of revelation, driving him insanely frustrated at the word leaving her lips. He slammed into her as she rode out her orgasm, chasing his own.

You felt the dismissal of his body as he violently pulled free from your walls, spewing his hot seed over your abdomen, drops claiming your tits too. He nearly collapsed, his dick in hand, the other holding himself up against the mattress between your legs.

He left you there, dirty, degraded and shut the door with a barked instruction for you to clean yourself up. You no longer cried in front of him, either before, during or after. There was no point. He didn’t care about how you felt, but the thing he DID seem to care about was the fact that you still refused to call him Ransom.

It was the one thing you held on to, the only thing that gave you an inch of control in this entire fucked up situation. You hadn’t missed the look on his face when you’d cried out 'Hugh' in the throes of your last orgasm. Before that moment there had been a softness in his eyes, one that had unnerved you no end, along with something that had looked suspiciously like hope. But when his given name had tumbled involuntarily from your mouth and not the one he preferred that softness had turned to contempt and you didn't miss the undercurrent of disappointment either.

And seeing that, knowing that it pissed him off and dare you say it, upset him so much was your single, albeit feeble, act of rebellion that served as a desperate boost to your ever waning inner strength. *****

Ransom laid in his large, plush bed, hands behind his head as the silk sheets pooled at his waist as morning was in full swing outside. His thoughts strayed to his girl in the basement and he took a deep breath, shifting slightly as he remembered the way her fingers had felt as they’d curled around his biceps, her touch firey but cold. That had been the first time she’d touched him when she wasn’t trying to push him away, it had been involuntary, he knew that, a reaction to the way she’d been feeling, the way he had made her feel.

A twitch resounded deep in his belly....the way he made her feel.

He realised now that he’d been going about this the entirely wrong way. The force had been necessary to make her comply at first, but last night she hadn’t just complied she’d participated, just what he had wanted all along. And all after he’d shown her a little leeway, brought her dinner, entertained her talk. He understood now that he needed to play a different card from his hand. She responded better to conversation, talking. Ransom hated fucking talking, he was more cerebral, calculating. Conversation means connecting, and connecting was something he wasn’t particularly interested in normally. He needed to lead, to be in charge, but it was clearly what she knew and thrived on, so he had to swallow his apprehension down to play the long game, to get what he wanted.

Now he understood that, it was going to be so fucking easy. All he had to do was to seemingly show her compassion, a little give so he could take so to speak. He rolled his head, cracking his neck as he remembered what she said about cooking with her mom so he decided that after her stellar performance last night, today she’d earned a bigger reward than a book or some journal. He was going to show her what she could have if she just gave in and admitted what he knew she truly wanted. A large house, a garden, a pool, a hot tub, silk sheets, a large bed, and a man to fuck her every way to heaven and back. He could give her everything that any woman could possibly desire, and then some.

With a twitch of a smirk across his lips, Ransom pulled his naked frame out of bed and slipped into joggers, a soft waffle knit thermal long sleeve pulled over his tousled hair. He felt like company for breakfast and he knew exactly to invite up.

His bare feet padded with purpose over the plush carpet of his room, down the stairs and onto the first floor, over the hard wood and marble tile of the halls and entry, down the plush carpeted spiral staircase down to the basement.

He reached the door and gently turned the locks, quietly pushing the door open as he turned the knob. It opened quietly and his eyes fell upon the empty bed. He frowned slightly, wondering where she was. Then his eyes found her, sitting curled up with her eyes cast upward, that little tease of a porthole window in her focus. She'd turned her chair around so she could see it more clearly, the throw blanket he'd tossed at her the week before was wrapped around her body. He didn't know the time, but it wasn't early nor was it afternoon. Not that it mattered, neither had anywhere else to be.

"Good morning," he said lowly. He watched as her eyes slowly moved away from the only bit of outside world she'd seen for weeks now.

"Morning," she replied quietly, her eyes locking onto his. "I err, I was just..." she trailed off. "Actually, I don't know what I was doing to be honest."

He stalked up to the chair, kneeling in front her. His hand reached up and cupped her cheek, his thumb running over her cheek bone. "You were such a good girl last night. Took me so well, teased me with that little number you had on. I've thought about you all morning."

Ransom watched her throat bob as she swallowed before licking her lips and biting the inside corner of her lip. Such an innocent gesture that had him half hard straight away.

"I want to give you something. But you have to be good, or it goes away," he started. "Can you be good, Sweetheart?"

She nodded, slightly. "Okay," he smirked. "Now, fix the chair and come up to make us breakfast."

Ransom stood back, allowing you some space to accommodate his request. You slipped the throw blanket from your shoulders and left it in the chair as you rearranged the piece back to its normal state. You met him at the doorway. You didn't miss the way his eyes moved over you, the way they lit up in a way at as he looked at the silken material covering your body. The dark teal silk and lace cami set was just one of a handful of options he'd provided for you. All the same, different colors, all in your size.

You hesitated for a second, not sure if this was another one of his little games but he simply met your eyes with his own and nodded up the stairs. With tentative, shaky steps you climbed them, sensing him close behind you as for the first time in weeks you left your prison. You felt anxious, highly on edge and nervous. What was awaiting you? There was the sickening feeling in your stomach of excitement too, you hadn’t seen the outside since Halloween. You paused at the top of the stairs in the hall. The kitchen was directly across from you, the entry to your right. The door to the basement clicked shut and you felt Ransom’s firm chest behind your back as his form invaded your space. He dragged a finger down your arm causing the strap of your top to fall away, placing a soft kiss on your shoulder.

"Straight ahead, Sweetheart."

“Okay,” you whispered before you slowly made your way through to the large, airy kitchen. You stood looking around, taking in the fancy appliances before you turned back to Ransom. "Did you have something in mind?”

"Well..." Ransom leaned in the doorway, watching you as you stood in the middle of the tiled floor "Yesterday wasn't the first time you said you enjoyed to cook so I thought you might like to." His eyes flicked once more down your frame and back up again before he nodded his head towards the rear of the room. “Anything you need is in the pantry and fridge.”

“And I can make anything I want?” You blinked, not quite able to believe what he was allowing you to do. It was fucked up that you were even considering this as a reward but, you’d take it. Boy would you take it, anything to grasp some sense of normality in this day-by-day hell you were living.

“Sure.” Ransom popped a shoulder again and you took a deep breath before you turned and headed to the sink to wash your hands before sorting out your menu and you froze. The outside landscape had stopped you cold. From what you could see of the back garden the property was secluded, not over looked. A lawn extended a fair distance back from the rear of the house, a neat decking area stood to the right which sported a hot tub and a little further down there looked to be a pool of some kind which was covered over for the season. Trees hung over the bottom of the garden lining the high wooden fence, what few leaves they still sported were shades of crimson, gold and brown and the river traced it’s banks as it curved around the side and back of the house, the sun shining off the surface, giving it the impression it was made of sapphires. It was breathtakingly beautiful and you felt your heart shatter, your eyes well and you couldn't help but hold back the urge to weep as your chest contracted painfully. You were so close to the outside, separated only by a pane of glass, yet it had never felt further away.

His voice broke you from your despair and you swallowed back the sob that choked your throat as you flicked your attention to the left, Ransom's reflection drawing closer towards you as he crossed the terracotta tiled floor.

"Everything alright?"

You cleared your throat and gave a quick shake of your head, "Fine."

Again you felt him in your space. His presence consuming. “You sure?”

Sure? No you weren’t sure. Because none of this was fine, in fact it was as far from fine as it could possibly get. In that moment you wanted nothing more than to spin round and hammer your fists into any part of his body you could hit but you knew that it wouldn't get you anywhere, bar back in the basement likely shackled naked to the bed so you instead turned slowly to find yourself caged in by his broad frame so close to yours. You cast your eyes downward, uncomfortable at his searching stare, "Yeah, I’m sure.”

Your tongue flicked nervously over your lips as you continued to avoid his gaze before you cleared your throat “How do you like your eggs? Or would you prefer an omelette? Pancakes even?" The urge to move away from him pulled you away from your idea of a menu. Brunch basics were flooding your brain and you rattled off a few nervously. He may have said you could make whatever you wanted, but right now, you had no clue. Seeing a different space, the outside world and breathing new air had rattled you.

“You choose.” Ransom spoke softly, his hand reaching up to brush your hair off your face before he tipped your chin up so your eyes met his. He looked at you, and you swallowed as for the first time there was something unreadable on his face. His eyes were looking at you in a way they’d never looked at you before, with a softness you’d never have anticipated he could possess.

"Waffles." You suddenly blurted out, desperate to escape his gaze "I err, do you have a waffle iron?”

“No.” He deadpanned.

"Oh," you swallowed "Erm, then in that case French toast...maybe? Is that ok?"

“Sounds delicious.” He said, his hand dropping from your face, “Sure it’ll taste almost as good as you.”

“Great. How about with fresh Chantilly cream and berries if you have them?” You asked, completely ignoring his blatant back handed compliment and you started familiarizing yourself with the space as you glanced around.

“Like I said, whatever you want, Sweetheart.” He shrugged, and with that he stepped back to allow you to move away.

Ransom watched her move around the luxurious kitchen, looking through the pantry and cabinet near the stove taking out cinnamon and vanilla, plucking items like bread, butter, eggs, berries and cream from the fridge. Searching drawers for utensils and measuring cups and spoons. Finding a pan and bowl from a bottom cabinet. Measuring sugar from the glass jar on the counter. He hoped the ingredients were still fresh, he wasn't exactly sure how long they'd been stored. She moved like she belonged there, he thought to himself. So sexy looking in her nightwear, bare feet on the tile, her ass and breasts moving underneath the silk as she stretched and worked.

"Coffee?" He offered, as he moved from one side to the other. He made sure his exquisite espresso machine was ready as it sat in all its glory on its own portion of the counter like a batista station inside Starbucks.

He didn't miss the way she watched him move around her, preparing the coffee and grabbing the orange juice from the fridge. He reached over her shoulder, his body brushing against hers as he opened the cupboard where he kept the glasses and mugs. He peered down at her, giving a twitch to the corner of his mouth. A smirk indeed. He noted the way her eyes followed him as he poured the juice, like he was going to poison her or something.

"It's just juice, Sweetheart," he said nonchalantly and put the juice back in the fridge. He set the breakfast table for them and took a seat in his place, a now hot cup of coffee in his hand, hers sitting on the counter next to her.

It wasn’t long before she had finished and brought the plates to the table, sitting down timidly in the seat to his right as he gestured to it, stopping her dead as she was about to make her way around to the opposite side.

It was quiet, the only sounds heard for a while were the click and scrape of forks and knives cutting away at the plates of food. Ransom wouldn't admit it out loud, but this was the best French toast he'd ever had in his life. Something about it, the way it was not soggy, but perfectly moist, the edges just crispy. The way the cream made for no syrup and the sweet berries added the final element. He watched her pick at the food for a moment or two as he glanced over at her and saw a small bit of Chantilly in the corner of her mouth.

A long arm reached across the table and automatically she flinched a little, as if she was going to pull away but one firm stare stopped her in her tracks. His thick thumb padded away the white, sweet cream and he brought the same thumb to his lips, sucking the cream away. He lifted his brows in a teasing manner and twitched up his lips, "Delicious. Like I said, almost as good as you, Sweetheart."

"Thanks, I think," she paused.

"Trust me, I know."

The comment seemingly threw her off her meal and it didn't get past Ransom. She had started picking at it, moving it around the plate like she had done with her dinner the night before. He, on the other hand, was near finished.

"Are you still not hungry?" He inquired.

She shook her head, "I just made my portion too big. I overestimated my appetite, I guess."

"Huh," he placated her reply. He knew she was lying but he let it slide, realizing that seeing a new space, the window to the outside was overwhelming. So, he thought he'd sweeten the deal. "I thought maybe you'd like to see the house," he offered, watching as her big eyes locked onto his and she took a deep breath.

"That sounds nice, thank you."

"Good, after breakfast then." He nodded affirmingly, as if it were drying ink in his mind. He picked up his coffee and finished it off, his plate already clear.

She stood from the table, collecting his plate with her own and headed for the sink. He turned in his chair, stalking her, watching her every move. The way she pitched over the sink, bending her frame over the dishwasher to load it as she cleaned up the kitchen.

With each bend and snap of her hips, he felt his mouth water more. Her little silk cami riding up as she moved, her breasts falling in and out of a fuller view. When she tucked a stray hair behind her ear, he was on her. He moved behind her, his hands grabbed her hips as she spun around completely startled giving a gasp and a quick yelp.

"Easy, Sweetheart," he chuckled as she looked at him, her eyes wide.

"Sorry... you, err...you startled me." She whispered as he moved his hands so they gripped at the side of the kitchen counter on either side of her, caging her in with his body.

"Some women would like that," he quipped, arching an eyebrow a little and watched as she swallowed hard and cast her eyes downward. Moving one hand slowly up her arm, over her shoulder and around her neck, he tipped her head back up so those large, Bambi eyes locked onto his.

His hand adjusted, gripping her chin softly as he moved closer still, dipping his head he pressed a firm kiss to her lips. He felt her go rigid, her chest spiking as she drew in a sharp breath, her body shaking slightly in his hold. "Stop fighting it..." he whispered against her mouth before he kissed her again. This time, his tongue traced the line of her upper lip, the feel of it soft and soothing.

You felt his tongue line your lip and you couldn't hold the whimper of fear that passed through you. He’d never kissed you before, not on the mouth anyway. You felt him deepen his kiss, his big hand cupping your face, pulling you into it more. Your mind went elsewhere, imagining anyone but him kissing you like this. You couldn't deny it, this intimate moment, completely lost on both of you for different reasons, felt good and he was good at it. He was damn good at it in fact, and that alone made you want to vomit your breakfast into his throat. At that, you jerked back, panting a little, feeling your lips swollen from the way he'd sucked your bottom one between his, pulling at it just the right way. You hated the feeling between your legs that it had evoked, your body betraying you just like it always did.

In an attempt to stave off the conflicting emotions spiking within you, you focussed on his face, the face you hated and to your surprise he looked dazed. The usual stoic expression that clouded his features had been replaced with something akin to surprise but no sooner had you noticed it, it was gone.

"Clean up and I'll meet you in the study." He told you, his voice a deep almost pained whisper.

"But I don't..." you started but were quickly cut off.

"You're a smart girl, figure it out," he smirked and slipped away.

You were tempted to follow, just so you'd see where he was going but you knew not to defy a command. The feeling of unease seemed to disappear as you slumped your shoulders and instead defeat filled your frame. A trembling hand came to your lips as jittery fingertips touched your swollen skin. Your bottom lip quivered like a ripple in a river and you quickly covered your mouth, turning on a dime as your French toast littered the sink. If the water hadn't been running already, Ransom would no doubt have heard you retching. You rinsed your mouth out to attempt at hiding that vomit taste from your tongue and quickly finished your task of cleaning up the kitchen, salty tears dripping from your chin, mixing with the soapy water.

When you could stall no longer, you sighed and headed out into the large hallway, taking a quick look around. It was light, airy, the grand staircase swept in and curved round to the next floor and your eyes lingered on the heavy wooden door just beyond it. You hesitated, and then with a dejected sigh realised there was no point even trying to escape. Even if it was unlocked, which you doubted, the threat to your family was just too much for you to risk. Instead, you decided to head down the corridor to your right and found yourself in a large open plan living room of sorts. It was decorated in clean whites and crisp greys with a huge feature stone open fireplace and sported a bar at the back. A brown leather sofa and two matching arm chairs were strategically placed around an expensive looking coffee table but you didn’t bother to look at the rest, this wasn’t the room you needed so you turned back on yourself, walked back into the hall and took the turning to your left.

This time you found yourself walking into what you could only assume was his study-come-den of sorts. It was huge, and once again sported a sofa pushed up against the wall, looking out over the spectacular view of not only the garden but the river too. But that wasn’t what caught your attention, nor was it the walnut desk and laptop that sat upon it. It was the floor to ceiling bookshelf behind it. Your mouth dropped open as you made your way towards it but then you stopped, biting your lip. Were you supposed to be looking at them? But, he had said to meet you in here. And left you to find your own way. Surely, if he didn’t want you looking around he wouldn’t have left you to it.

Throwing caution to the wind you strode forward, your pace hurried this time and your eyes quickly scanned across some of the books. You couldn’t help but feel shocked. Whilst there was a huge collection of his Grandfather’s books, and a number of other crime novels of types, it was the colourful spines to your right that made your chest heave in delight. The entire Harry Potter collection. With a shaky hand you reached for The Philosopher’s Stone, noting the British version of the title, and opened the front page giving another gasp as you read the publishing details.

This was a first edition. And from the date you also knew it would be one that contained the misprint errors. And as such, would be worth a small fortune.

“See something you like?” that familiar voice hit your ears and you gave a little shriek, jumping around, clutching the book to your chest to avoid dropping it.

“I’m sorry.” You hastily began to apologise “I was just…erm…”

“It’s ok.” He assured you, crossing towards you. Once more he encroached into your personal space and you felt the blades of your shoulders press into the shelf behind you. “Harry Potter fan?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, “Didn’t think they’d be your type of thing.

“They’re not really.” He shrugged “I’m a collector. Everything on the shelves, well they’re all first or limited editions, so worth a lot.”

“Figures.” You mumbled, turning round and slotting the book back into the space it had come from. As you did you felt him push up behind you, his hands on your hips, the unmistakable feel of his hard on dug into the lower part of your back and you fought to stop yourself shuddering. He was after pay-back for allowing you to leave your prison.

“Did you like the house?” he asked, brushing your hair off your neck.

“Yes.” You answered politely, your voice catching a little as he placed a kiss to the crook of your shoulder.

“You know, it could all be yours sweetheart if you just stopped fighting what you know you want” His kisses continued up your neck as his words whirled around your brain and you were back to where you had been in the kitchen. It felt good. And that disgusted you.

“Did you enjoy making breakfast?” he whispered, his lips by your ear.

“Yeah.” You nodded, your voice barely there.

“Show me how much.” His teeth nipped at your lobe, his hips grinding forward and you swallowed and closed your eyes. You knew what he wanted but as you turned to face him you had an idea. One which would save you being fucked no doubt over the desk or on the hard looking couch.

With a lick of your lips you looked at him and sank slowly to your knees, taking his sweats with you. His hard cock sprang free, slapping his lower abs and you reached out, grasping it in your hand.

“Fuck, yeah baby…” Ransom hissed as you moved your head forwards and took him in your mouth.

You pulled out all the moves, you took him as deep as you could, gagging a little as he wasn’t a small man. You kept your hand firmly on the base of his cock, you hollowed your lips, you swirled your tongue around his shaft and he let out a little groan his hand fisting in your hair as his hips bucked forwards.

“Jesus, I knew your mouth was smart but…” he panted, looking down at you. You raised your eyes to look at his as he bit his lip, his entire face contorted in pleasure…

Pleasure that was ruined by the sound of the doorbell.

“What the fuck…” Ransom growled out, un-fisting his hand from her hair. “Who the fuck is that?”

He glanced down at her and she looked up at him, wide eyed. She was a mess, swollen lips, wet chin and dressed in nothing but her skimpy tank and shorts. With a frustrated growl, Ransom pulled his dick out of her mouth and grabbed his phone from the table to check the doorbell camera. His face blanched as he saw who it was.

“I don’t fucking believe it…” he mumbled, as she looked up at him.

“Who is it?” She asked, wiping her face, “I’m not exactly dressed for visitors, Hugh.”

Ransom might have been pre-occupied with the familiar face staring at him from his phone, but he still picked up on that 'Hugh' and he glared down at her. “No shit, and because we have a visitor, I'm gonna let that one slide. Get up.” She rose to her feet, blinking a little as he pulled off the thermal he was wearing and tossed it to her. “Put that on. No one gets to see you in silk but me.”

She blinked as she caught it, confusion spreading across her face. “Don’t you just want me to go-“

In a flash, he grabbed her chin between his thumb and finger and she winced, “If I wanted you downstairs I’d have said. So put the damn shirt on, and when he starts asking questions just remember what I said I could do to your family and friends.”

In complete complacency, he watched her slip his thermal over her head, her fingers barely peeking through the sleeves to fix her dishevelled hair. The material hit her mid-thigh and his eyes brows gave a flicker of approval before he walked to the entry and opened the door. "What do you want?"

"Pleasure to see you too, Mr. Drysdale..." that infuriating Southern drawl hit Ransom's ears with all the finesse of a cheese-grater. Benoit Blanc, without so much as a gesture of request, pushed past Ransom as he strode inside, stopping in the tiled entry, looking around.

"Do you have a warrant?" The man of the house snipped in his usual spiteful tone.

Blanc still didn’t reply, and Ransom rolled his eyes following him as he wandered down the hallway, stopping at the open door to the study. "Well, if it isn't the lady of the hour."

Ransom stood behind Blanc, an infuriatingly warning glare sent his girl's way. He noted the way she was sitting on the couch, her legs tucked underneath her, lips still swollen, cheeks flushed, hair tousled. She looked like a sex kitten, and maybe that was the idea. He warned her to sell it after all…

"Excuse me?” Y/N looked up at the two men in the doorway.

Blanc stepped inside the room, taking a seat on the edge of the same couch where she sat. "I've been looking for you, young lady. A lot of people are looking for you, you know Miss Y/L/N.”

“I errr…” she swallowed a little as she slowly got to her feet, her hands pulling the hem of the thermal down before she folded her arms across her chest, not in a defiant manner, but almost as if she was hugging herself “Did someone send you or…”

“No, nothing like that. You see, I heard you'd gone missing, and I knew you had a work connection to Mr. Drysdale, that, shall we say didn't go quite as planned. So when things started adding up, I thought to ask the man himself."

“Well, congratulations, this is one mystery you actually solved correctly, Sherlock. As you can see she’s here and she’s fine, and we were in the middle of something, so if you don’t mind….” Ransom folded his arms, his eyes moving from hers to Blanc, who was irritatingly completely ignoring him, his gaze focussed intently on the woman who stood in front of him.

Ransom could see him take her in fully, now seeing the situation he may have just walked in on. She looked dishevelled and was missing crucial parts of her clothing, but she had no tears in her eyes, no markings looking to be of abuse or out of the ordinary. None that were visible anyway. Blanc’s gaze then dragged over to Ransom who was bare foot in joggers and still half aroused, which he did nothing to hide as he folded his arms over his naked chest.

Ransom held Blanc’s gaze, his chin jutting out defiantly, the detective only looking away when the lady of the hour spoke, her voice quiet, as she gave a small nod. "He’s right, I’m fine."

"Then why not tell your family where you are?”

“I err…” Y/N’s right hand gripped he cuff of the sweater sleeve tightly, “I just, well, I…”

Ransom could see that she was losing it and he knew he had to intervene. He walked over to her and placed an arm around her, kissing the top of her head lightly, "It's alright, Sweetheart. I know how he can be frustrating. We're doing nothing wrong."

With that he turned his gaze to the man in front of him, not even trying to hide the sneer of contempt that was crossing his face “I have neither the time nor the crayons to explain this to you Blanc.”

“Well, maybe Miss Y/L/N has some crayons hidden up her sleeve so to speak.” Blanc smiled innocently and Ransom felt the anger floor his system.

“You’re starting to really piss me off.” he snarled, “You barge into my home, without so much of an explanation…” his rant was stopped dead as Y/N placed her hand on his chest, palm splaying over his bare skin. Ransom swallowed at the touch of her fingers against his skin, firey hot just as they had been last night when they curled around his arms.

"Hey," she spoke and he looked down to see her giving him a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes but one that should be enough to convince the dumbass detective who was watching them. "It's okay." She then turned to Blanc as he held his hand up, palm open, speaking to Ransom.

“I’m not trying to be frustrating Mr. Drysdale, I'm merely enquiring after Miss Y/L/N’s wellbeing."

"I'm not here under duress if that's what you're thinking.” She spoke, clearing her throat. “Hu… Ra, we have had to keep our relationship private,” she stumbled on the right identity, settling for 'we'. Clearing her throat again and settling her nerves, she continued, "Mr. Blanc, as you well know, I'm reporter and his background has been less than stellar as of late. It no doubt would not look good for either of us if it had come to light. My reputation as a journalist would have been in tatters.”

“Well, lies and deception certainly go hand in hand when it comes to Mr. Drysdale...”

Ransom rolled his eyes dramatically “Change the record, Blanc. The static is a little loud.”

Blanc completely ignored him, his attention still on her. “So you caused all this worry, because of some…” he waved his hand in front of him, gesturing between the pair of them.

Ransom’s arm curled round her even tighter, his fingers pressing into her hip and he felt her stiffen a little before she relaxed into his side and gave a small nod.

"Like I said, it wouldn’t have gone down well with my family, or my career.”

“Ahh, yes, your job, which you quit.” Blanc looked at her. “Yes, I spoke to your boss.” He answered her unasked question. “Why would you be so worried for your reputation as a journalist, if you’re not actually a journalist anymore?”

At that she took a deep breath “I quit the paper because my boss is an asshole. His antics on Halloween were a step too far. But that doesn’t mean I have no intentions of working ever again. I'm currently taking a long overdue sabbatical.”

Blanc studied her again, almost as if he was weighing something up and she once more began to fidget and Ransom decided he’d had enough.

"Okay, I’m done being polite,” Ransom moved his arm from around his girl and stepped towards Blanc, placing himself directly between the detective and the woman. “You've interrupted out little post brunch love affair and I’m horny, so…do you need help finding the door, or can your super sleuth skills figure the way back out of it on their own?”

“Miss Y/L/N?” Blanc spoke, his eyes locked onto Ransom’s. Ransom felt the nerve in his jaw twitch, the fact that Blanc wasn’t scared of him irritated him no end.

There was a pause and then her voice came clearly from behind him as she spoke, “If you'd be so kind as to not tell my family where I am, I'd appreciate it. I prefer this time without their unwanted opinion.” Her voice was steady, measured almost. “You can tell them that you've found me, alive and well."

Blanc knew he wasn't welcome, he had proof of life and no reason to suspect foul play. He stood, his long wool coat falling into place around him. "Well, then I guess my work is done." He brushed passed Ransom and gave a quick quip, "I'm warning you...."

"What was that?" His girl wondered. She'd heard him.

"Have a nice day," Blanc nodded curtly “I’ll see myself out.”

You watched the back of the detective as he left the large living room, Ransom following him to the doorway where he stood, arms folded, watching. The sound of Blanc’s feet on the tiles of the hallway grew fainter and fainter until eventually they stopped completely. The latch of the door sounded and you fell to the closest thing you could sit on. Your while body shook with a chill that crept into your bones but not from the cold. No, you were sick to your stomach in fear and worry. The bile of deceit rose to your throat and had you not already spewed up your breakfast it would have most likely decorated the carpet of the study. Instead, you swallowed down the sour bile as Drysdale approached you and you glanced up at him, blinking whilst he studied you for a second, his face passive. As you held his gaze, something akin to amusement flashed in his cold blue eyes and a twisted smirk spread across his face.

“Your acting skills certainly improved there along the way, at the end you were almost award worthy.” He drawled, his hands falling to his hips. “Even Meryl Streep would be jealous.”

"Fuck you," your voice quivered.

He arched an eyebrow, an amused expression on his features “Already played that game Sweetheart, and carry on back-chatting me and you’ll be back in the basement.”

"Wh... What?"

"You pulled through in the end there. It was a rough start, but you convinced Colonel Sanders that you were here on your own."

“Colonel Sanders?” You blinked, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Blanc. CSI KFC.” He replied. You were none the wiser as to what he was going on about and it must have shown on your face as he simply rolled his eyes. "Never mind...the point is, sweetheart, I'm in a good mood. And seeing as you behaved...”

"What?" Your voice was quiet, meek.

"If you shut that pretty little mouth for longer than a second, I'll explain." His tone was measured but you didn’t miss the underlying threat.

“Sorry.” Your eyes fell to the floor, your left hand worrying at your right.

“Eyes on me.” He barked and your head whipped up automatically and he smirked at you as you took a deep breath. “As I was saying, seeing as you were such a good girl, I thought I’d reward you, let you stay up here with me for the day.”

The notion shocked you. Your mouth went dry and you couldn't make sense of it. But then, the more you thought about it, the more his audacity irked you. He’d imprisoned you, used you, abused you…and now he was implying that staying in his company was a fucking reward.

“Wow, thanks…” you blurted before you could stop yourself, sarcasm lacing your tone. As soon as the words had slipped from your mouth you felt panic flood your system as he stepped towards you and reached out, his right hand curling around your throat.

"Don’t push me sweetheart.” His voice was low as his fingers squeezed the column of your neck, a reminder of how easily he could simply end it all whenever he chose.

And just like that the softness that he had displayed with you earlier that morning was gone, and the shutters were back up. You swallowed hard, feeling the strain of your throat against his touch, his eyes now dark and full of that familiar angry lust and desire that chilled you from head to toe. Blanc had riled him, gotten underneath his skin, that was easy to see while your mouthy comments fuelled that ire. And as such, he needed an escape, an outlet.

And he was going to get it from you.

“Now on your knees and finish what you started."

**** Part 4

#murder he wrote #dark ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale #dark ransom drysdale x reader #dark ransom x reader #dark ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale fic #chris evans #chris evans characters

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ah-ga-seven · 3 years

Text

Till’ The End of Summer - Chapter 13

>> series masterlist <<

Pairing: Choi Yeonjun x Reader

In a Nutshell: College!AU, Rich Kids, Friends to Lovers, Fuckboy athlete Yeonjun, Overprotective Best friend Soobin, contains all of TXT and other Idol cameos, Omnipresent perspective.

Synopsis: You and Yeonjun are caught up in a cat and mouse game because of unspoken feelings and endless pining for each others’ attention. With the summer break approaching and lots of college parties, will you finally get a chance to explore your feelings for each other; even though the world and Yeonjun’s reputation makes things complicated?

Word count: 11,5K

Genre: Angst, Fluff.

Warnings: Heavy angst.

A/N: NOT the final chapter.

“Yeonjun…” his name came out like a whisper. You didn’t know what to do or say. You couldn’t fathom the betrayal and hurt that he must be feeling right now.

“No, there has to be some type of explanation to this. She wouldn’t do this. Why would she? She practically raised me.” He wasn’t listening, just rambling. Trying to make sense of why he heard her voice on the other end of the line.

All of you stayed silent, looking at him with concerned and horrified facial expressions.

“Why would she do this. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Hyung…it does kind of explain why you could never find anything. She’s an in-house maid, she could have erased all traces and-”

“No, shut up. She wouldn’t do that.”

“Yeonjun maybe-” Mia tries to talk but Yeonjun cut her off too.

“No, no. Stop. I don’t want to hear it. This woman, she’s the one that sat with me at night so I didn’t have to eat dinner alone, she bathed me, fed me, read me bedtime stories. It can’t be her.” He didn't know who he was trying to convince. Maybe himself?

Yeonjun wasn’t stupid. He knew what it meant when she answered the phone, but he couldn’t accept it. How could he ever trust anyone ever again if this turned out to be true?

He turned around on his heels so he didn’t have to face you guys, getting lost in thought as he pursed his lips together while running his hand through his hair. He was trying incredibly hard not to cry, until the thought of almost losing you crossed his mind, making a tear escape anyway.

He threw his head back, wiping the single tear from his eye, not wanting to break down in front of all of you. He needed to stay level headed and think rationally. But why was it so god damn hard for him this time when he always managed to pull through?

“She knows how much I love y/n,” he mumbles to no one in particular, but you all heard it and suddenly your heart wrenched in your chest.

He really does love you.

Even though your relationship was far from, well…a relationship. Yeonjun never shied away from expressing his feelings out in the open. Ever since he realized he loved you, he basically never shut up about it to the people around him; even under these circumstances.

You watch him with sad eyes. You didn’t get time to process what happened to you literally minutes ago, but none of it mattered anymore.

You had to set your feelings aside to be there for him.

You’ll heal from it some other time…right?

“Maybe getting to her would cause your breakdown? Meaning you won’t go for the CEO position in the future. You told us she’s the one who told you to come back here, maybe it’s because she didn’t want you to ruin her plans…” Mia says trying to piece things together, and Yeonjun hated to admit it; but it made perfect sense.

Lita knows that if he lost you, he’d completely break down and lose focus. He'd lose the will to succeed because he wouldn't have anyone left to live for.

He’d rather die than have anything happen to you, and maybe that’s dramatic, but it was no lie.

You got up from your chair and walked over to him. You hold onto his forearm before moving in front of him to announce your presence in case you’d startle him, and when his eyes landed on you his pained facial expression completely disappeared.

It’s like you were a remedy to his broken soul. Every time he laid eyes on you, touched you, or kissed you, he healed a little.

You don’t say anything and just wrap your arms around his waist, pressing your cheek against his chest. His heart was beating fast as he wrapped his arms around you to hug you back. He needed this. He needed you.

All you wanted was for him to be okay. For everything to go back to normal and to take away his pain but all of this was just too fucking crazy to wrap your mind around.

He rested his chin on top of your head and closed his eyes in solace as he sighed. Giving himself a second to breathe before he untangled himself from you without making eye contact.

“I have to call my mom,” he mumbles without emotion.

You look at him a little puzzled, as did Soobin and Mia who gave each other looks of confusion at his suddenly changed attitude.

He always does this. He always pushes his emotions aside in the blink of an eye and gets back to business as if it’s nothing.

Yeonjun disappears into your bedroom with his phone as he closes the door behind him. The closed door was enough for all three of you to understand to give him space, and so you did.

With a heavy head and a heavy heart, you sit down at your dinner table again, not feeling Mia and Soobin’s worried eyes on you as you bury your face in your hands. Soobin scooted closer to you and rubbed your back in warming up and down motions to assure you of his presence and Mia, who was sitting across from you, simply grabbed your hand with both of hers.

You sit like that in silence for god knows how long. You were trying to piece things together and process everything that has happened to you and then it hit you.

Every decision Yeonjun has made up until now was to protect you from the unimaginable which somehow became imaginable.

And suddenly you felt bad for hating him. You hated him for loving you enough to let you go in favor of your own wellbeing. But God knows you did not think of any danger of this caliber.

It was only months ago that your meaningless crush on Yeonjun got the best of you. If someone from the future would’ve told you that this would be the outcome of pursuing him, you’d probably punch that person in the face for being ridiculous, yet here you are.

Completely and utterly broken, afraid, tired, and still in love.

And despite everything, you’d still choose to be with Yeonjun if you got to hit the re-do button.

Yeonjun emerged from your bedroom and as you heard the door creak open your head immediately snapped into his direction.

His face held an expression you couldn’t quite read, so you sigh. You bite your lip in anticipation as you watch him pull out a chair of your dining table, waiting for him to sit down and speak up.

“My mom didn’t believe me at first.”

“What? Why?” Mia asks with big eyes.

“Well, can you blame her? She has worked for your family since you were born hyung, this is a big accusation.” Soobin says as he tries to comfort Yeonjun by patting the hair that had grown out in the nape of Yeonjun’s neck. His eyes closed at the physical comfort and he leaned into Soobin’s touch for a split second. The sight was endearing, yet extremely sad.

“She told me she’s letting her people look into it. We can’t contact the police or talk to anyone about what happened. We’ll have to keep a low profile and return to our regular lives so we won’t raise suspicion. My mom will keep me updated and send security to keep us safe in the meantime. They’ll be on guard from tomorrow morning, we won’t even notice they’re here.” Yeonjun explains as if he’s leading a business meeting. All that was missing was a PowerPoint presentation. “Also, that’s evidence,” he says pointing to the cracked phone and the knife in the middle of your dinner table. “We need to put it somewhere safe and make sure no one else touches it.”

The three of you look at him a little dumbfounded.

“What do you mean by her people?” Soobin asks.

“Private detectives,” Yeonjun answers as If it’s nothing.

Private detectives, security, assassins, betrayal. What in the fuck has your life turned into? The things people would do to get to the Choi’s fortunes baffled you, and once again you were at a loss for words.

“Yeonjun, that’s a lot to process,” you say rubbing your forehead as the pain returns. Your hangover never really left you and now it was replaced with a whole new one.

“So, if we have security starting from tomorrow morning…what about tonight?” Soobin asks looking from you to Mia and back to Yeonjun.

“I suggest I stay with y/n. You stay with Mia.” Yeonjun says with a straight face.

You stare at him and make eye contact, and just before you wanted to say something, he interrupts you; knowing what you were going to ask him.

“Please don’t ask me if I’m okay y/n, I’m not.” He sighs as he avoids eye contact, playing with his fingers to distract himself from all of your eyes on him. “I’ll completely shut down if I let myself feel right now. I need to be level headed. I’ll deal with it later.”

Later. It’s always later with him, but when will later be too late?

You all stay quiet for a short while. Your minds going into overdrive and suddenly you felt crippling anxiety wash over you as the memory of that man trying to break your lock comes back to you.

Yay, another trauma to add to the list.

“What if he comes back…” you say in a whisper. Your voice cracked in fear and Yeonjun’s eyes darted to yours. Immediately heartbroken as you pulled your knees up to your chest. Hugging yourself to feel something warmer than the chills running down your spine at the thought of not feeling safe in your own home.

“I’m not leaving you,” Yeonjun says with determination in his eyes.

You all had school tomorrow, and if you all had to act as if nothing happened tonight, the four of you would need at least some sleep.

After going over the game plan once more paired with a lot of convincing that you’d be alright with just Yeonjun being here, Soobin left with Mia.

Aside from everything, you were glad they left together so they could talk and hash a few things out. Even though you didn’t know what your dynamic with Yeonjun would be like once the two of you were alone together, having more people in your apartment would only make you even more restless than you already were.

The truth is, you had no idea how to act around Yeonjun anymore.

Too much has happened and too much was weighing down on the both of you to be able to talk about it; so when you closed your front door, you froze before turning around.

He was on your couch, furiously typing to what you assume to be his mother and you know better than to ask about it, so you just awkwardly make your way over to him.

“Uhm…I still have a few of your clothes here. You could shower and change if that makes you feel any better,” you say as you look at him, anxiously waiting for him to look back at you.

He lifted his head from his phone and stared at you, and then at his surroundings as he only now noticed that Mia and Soobin had left already.

His furrowed eyebrows relaxed as he laid eyes on you, and his shoulders fell in relief as he nodded.

“Yes, thank you. I’ll go do that,” he says with a soft smile and an almost too polite tone.

It was as if you were strangers. The tension in the room was noticeable so you averted your attention on the box filled with his stuff next to your front door.

“I-it’s in there.” You stutter as you get up. Silently retrieving it to hand it to him.

You were going to send his stuff back to him, figuring your relationship was basically doomed in the past week.

He held a neutral facial expression as he took the box from you. His fingers lightly ghosting over yours as he grabbed it from your hold. “You packed my stuff?” he asks as he sets the box aside on your couch.

He wasn’t hurt. In fact, he completely understood. But in some way you wanted him to be hurt.

You wanted him to show you any other emotion than the stoic expression he was holding now.

“I…well, y-yeah.” you avoid his stare out of insecurity, and he seemed to notice.

“Hey, shhh. I don’t blame you. I get it, really,” he says as he got up from the couch, getting to eye level with you.

He gave you a faint smile as he caressed your cheek with his thumb.

The Yeonjun you fell in love with would litter your face with kisses to make sure you felt reassured. He’d hug you tightly. Try to make you smile and hold you until you felt better. But the Yeonjun in front of you just turned around, grabbing the box again before he made eye contact once more. “Go to bed, don’t be afraid. I’ll be sleeping on the couch so nothing can happen to you okay?”

You nod absentmindedly, avoiding his eyes.

He gave you one last look before he made his way over to your bathroom and locked the door. By doing this he created a distance he hadn’t created before and suddenly you felt hollow.

'Oh my god, he locked the door.' you think to yourself.

He’s distancing himself from you because he’s in pain. But he wouldn’t tell you that with actual words because he didn’t know how.

And if he broke down now, he wouldn’t stop.

You stood there in the exact same spot for at least another 30 seconds. Listening to him turn on the faucet of your shower.

There was nothing you wanted more at the moment than to join him. Massage his sore muscles, and hold him close to be his security blanket but you can’t. And even if you could, you don’t know if you should.

After chugging down a glass of cold water while staring at your front door in paranoia you reluctantly made your way to your bed.

You were tossing and turning, trying to hear if Yeonjun already finished getting ready for bed.

When you heard the faucet close and the door of your bathroom unlock, something inside of you hoped that he’d change his mind and crawl into your bed with you, but after 5 long and agonizing minutes of waiting, you gave up on the probability of him doing so.

You hated this.

You hated that he was so close, yet so far, and you hated even more that you were the one who created this distance.

The two of you never got to really talk, meaning he was just being respectful and mindful of your wishes. He was trying to give you the space you asked for but after tonight, you weren’t sure if space was what you needed.

You bite your lip, contemplating if your next move was the right one to make but after a full hour of not being able to fall asleep because of your overthinking ass, you figured you had nothing to lose.

You get out of your bed with your duvet wrapped around you like a cape and make your way to your living room silently, dragging your feet on your wooden floor.

He left a light on in your hallway, which you were happy about because you were able to see his sleeping form on your couch in the warm yet dimmed light.

He was lying on his back. His arms were crossed over his chest and his body faced your front door so he’d be able to see if anything were to happen.

As you got closer to him, you study his facial expression.

His lips were slightly parted and he was breathing slowly. He must’ve been completely exhausted to be able to sleep under these circumstances and you purse your lips together, noticing how his face still held a pained expression even in his sleep.

You unwrap your blanket from yourself and pull it over Yeonjun’s sleeping form as carefully as you could and tuck him in a little.

Your initial plan was to cuddle next to him on your couch, but given how peacefully he was sleeping you decide against it.

Instead, you move a piece from his grown out bangs away from his eyes and kiss his forehead before you got up, ready to walk back to your room until you feel a hand taking a firm hold on your wrist.

You look back in shock, feeling like you got caught. It took everything in you to suppress a yelp and when you made eye contact with him, he chuckled lowly.

He wasn’t asleep at all. In fact, he was struggling with the exact same thoughts.

He opened the covers for you, pulling you down with him without a word and you gladly accepted the invitation.

You nuzzle your face in the crook of his neck as you rest your hand on his chest. He made sure you were completely covered by the blanket as well, and held on to your waist with one hand as the other patted your head in slow, comforting strokes.

Your lashes fluttered closed in solace and he sighed, looking down at you before he kissed your forehead.

The action made you look up at him through your lashes and when you notice his lingering stare you quickly look away, resting your cheek on his chest as you sigh contently.

The cliches were all true. There really is nothing compared to feeling at home in someone’s arms, and for a moment you forgot about all the trauma and heartbreak.

You kiss his neck, feeling yourself doze off as he kept playing with your hair.

“Yeonjun…” you whisper.

The sound of your voice surprised him. He frowned as he looked down at you, halting his movements.

“Hmm?”

“Just so you know. I never stopped loving you.”

Being in a lecture hall at 9 AM as if nothing had happened last night was literal torture.

You had to hear Mr. Davis ramble about stuff you already knew about, but he took attendance so there was no way you could skip out on it without failing his class.

Though you had gotten a good night’s rest, it was hard to concentrate with everything going on and it was even harder to concentrate knowing you were being watched.

Yeonjun’s mom wasn’t playing when she said that you’d all get personal security as quickly as dawn came. They followed you around disguised as regular college kids and kept their distance. In some moments you forgot they were around but when you looked over your shoulder in the lecture hall as you felt a pair of eyes on you; the reality of things hit you again.

The lecture hall was filled with at least 200 students, so no one would bat an eye at their presence. They blended in perfectly, which was both reassuring yet scary because anyone with malicious intent could be doing the exact same thing.

You kept looking around the lecture hall with suspicion, completely zoning out and not paying attention. Mia, who was sitting next to you was dozing off, so you nudged her to keep her awake.

“You didn’t sleep?” you ask as you move a piece of her hair from her line of sight.

She sighed, shaking her head as she fixes her posture.

“No, Soobin and I stayed up all night to talk and once we fell asleep it was 5 AM,” she whispers.

“Did you…work things out?”

“We talked, we’re nowhere near how it used to be but we agreed on working through this.”

You smiled to yourself. Good. They were both miserable without each other, and even though there were a lot of things left unsaid and unresolved, you were glad things were slowly going back to normal.

“How about you? Did you and Yeonjun talk about it?” She asks looking over her shoulder to see if no one was paying attention to your conversation and you catch yourself doing the same.

“No. I didn’t know how to, and he made it obvious that he didn’t want to talk about it.”

“Well, he’s going to have to sooner than later.”

You nod in agreement. You basically haven’t solved anything with Mia, but it was nice to have her to talk to about all of this. Sort of? There was still a lot of communicating to be done but first, this whole Lita situation had to be fixed.

“We never got to have that conversation back in your apartment either,” Mia says as she reminisced back to the moment your lives turned into an action movie.

“We will, soon.”

“Ladies!” your professor's voice bounced off the walls loudly and you immediately knew you were being called out for talking in his class.

“If you want to talk so badly you should’ve just joined the debate team,” he says clicking his tongue, and suddenly everyone's’ eyes were on both you and Mia.

So much for keeping a low profile...

“Sorry.” You both say in unison.

Just before Mr Davis was about to continue his lecture he made eye contact with you and stopped in his tracks. “Wait, y/n right?”

You frown in surprise, and so does Mia. “Yes, that’s me.”

“Stay after class, there's something I need to talk to you about.”

Your eyes dart to Mia’s but she just shrugs, equally as confused as you are. You simply nod at your professors’ request and just like that he continues his class.

For the remaining half hour of the lecture, you were starting to wonder why he’d want to see you after class. When the lecture ended, you waited for most of the students to exit before you approached him on the stage with Mia trailing behind you after you asked her to.

Your invisible security guards waited outside of the door, and luckily Mr. Davis didn’t notice.

“I’m sorry Mia, this is a private matter.”

Mia gave you a look but you just nodded that it was ok. You were dying to know what was going on by now.

“I’ll see you at lunch,” she says, and you nod as she walked out.

One of the security guards left with her, trailing behind her in the hallway and the other still stood at the entrance of the lecture hall. Watching you and Mr Davis while also skimming his surroundings with his eyes.

You take a deep breath and face your teacher. “You wanted to see me, sir?”

“Yes. Yes, I did.” He walks over to his desk and retrieves a stack of papers from his drawer and you immediately recognize the front page.

It’s the research paper you wrote right before summer. It is the paper you finished writing in the cafeteria when Soobin basically forbid you to date Yeonjun after he came over to your table to flirt with you. The irony of it all was off-putting.

You totally forgot about it. That paper resembled a new beginning in your life somehow, but why would your teacher want to talk to you about it? Was it that bad?

“Did I fail it?” you ask with concern evident in your eyes, but your teacher just gives you a look of confusion and starts laughing at you.

“Fail!? y/n this is the best paper I’ve read in my career as a teacher, that’s 20 whole years.” He says as he sat down on the edge of his desk, giving you a warm smile

Your eyes widen in surprise. “What?”

“Yes, in fact. I sent it to a former colleague at Brown University, and they were so impressed and intrigued by your hypothesis that they want to fund your research.” He exclaims excitedly.

“I don’t….I don’t think I’m following sir…”

“They want you to spend a semester there, so you can carry out your research. Your return depends on your work tempo and the development period. They’ll provide a living space and take care of all of your expenses. This is huge. y/n. None of my students have gotten an opportunity like this. This is quite the offer and to be blunt. I think you should take it.”

Your mind goes into overdrive.

This is huge. Absolutely huge. A prestigious University like Brown had enough faith in your research to invest actual money into it. How did this happen?

“This…is a lot to take in,” you say a little dazed as you rake your hand through your hair.

“I know, I will send you an email with all of the details. Give it a good thought and let me know by the end of the week. If you decide to go, you’ll leave as soon as possible. I’m so excited for you! You have no idea how big this could be for your future. This could re-write a lot about what we know about neuroscience. It’s groundbreaking.”

He gave you a pat on your shoulder as he started to pack his things into his briefcase. Leaving you with your graded paper in your hand as you look down at it.

You scored a 100.

A hundred? How did this even happen?

It took you a full minute to collect yourself before you were able to walk out of that lecture hall.

You silently made your way outside, taking a deep breath of fresh air before sitting down on a random bench to think things through, but when you heard the door open behind you with your designated security guard nonchalantly standing beside the door as he tried not to disturb you, you scoff in annoyance.

This had to stop. Quickly. You wanted your life back as soon as possible.

You swallow harshly as you stare at the large document in your hands.

Would you be able to leave everything behind for half a year or longer by yourself? Would you be able to leave your friends? Gyu, Tae, Hyuka, Mia, Soobin…Yeonjun.

You couldn’t imagine leaving him out of all of them. Even though Soobin and yourself haven’t spent more than 1 week apart since birth it wasn’t necessarily him you were worried about.

It was Yeonjun. What would this mean for your relationship? And what kind of partner would you be if you decided to leave him behind in the midst of the hardest time in his life?

He needed you and you needed him. But you also knew that you couldn’t let an opportunity like this go for the sake of an undefined relationship with someone who caused you more harm than good.

This was a lot to think about but then it hit you that you didn’t even have the freedom to think.

You checked the time on your phone and realized you were running late to the only class you shared with all 6 of them; Advanced English.

It’s a class that mixed both different years and majors, and all of you applied for it during that picnic before summer, just for the hell of it. All of you wanted to share at least one class together and it was the only available option.

“Shit,” you huff under your breath before you quickly grab your things and make a run for it. Your security guard had trouble following you unnoticed like this, so he decided to keep an even larger distance.

As you make it to the classroom, it was already completely filled as you were the last one to arrive. Your shadow stayed outside, sitting down at an individual study booth where he could keep an eye on things, and you couldn’t be more glad that he didn’t follow you inside.

You apologize to your teacher for being late and make your way to a random table, avoiding the one your friends were sitting at.

All of their eyes darted to you in confusion, but Yeonjun and Soobin looked at you a little worriedly.

“Is she ok? Did she not see us?” Taehyun asks as he cocked his head to the side.

“She had to stay behind in our other class, maybe she’s upset?” Mia explains, shrugging her shoulders.

“Stay behind? Why?” Soobin asks raising his eyebrow as he looks at you with concern.

“I don’t know. Mr. Davis asked me to leave before he spoke to her.”

Beomgyu sighs. “He’s a dick. I hope he didn’t yell at her. He was my guidance coach last year”

“He’s only a dick to people who don’t do shit in his classes,” Hueningkai states rolling his eyes, which earned him a hard punch to his upper arm from Beomgyu.

Yeonjun watched you closely as Gyu and Hueningkai bickered as background noise. He could tell you were stressed by the way you were tapping your heel on the floor while you keep clicking your pen on your notebook. He sighed, closing his books as he grabbed his stuff.

Since the class was about to start, people were looking at Yeonjun for suddenly switching seats. You had no idea what was going on until you hear the chair next to you being pulled back.

Your eyes meet and your anxiety vanishes. He sat down without a word, taking your hand under the table while intertwining your fingers together in an attempt to calm you down.

He didn’t know what had you so out of it, but he figured being hunted by some unknown man commissioned by his housemaid was enough to have you lose your mind.

A few girls seemed to notice Yeonjun’s sweet actions which made them audibly swoon at his loving gesture, which made Taehyun, Beomgyu and Hueningkai gag a little while Mia and Soobin just gave each other knowing looks.

He rubbed those comforting circles into your hand and kissed your temple quickly before averting his attention back on the board.

Luckily this class was followed by a lengthy and desperately needed break. When your professor dismissed you all earlier than expected, your friends make their way to your table just as quickly as Yeonjun turned to face you fully.

You weren’t sure what to tell them yet, but you knew they had questions as to why you were late.

“Hey? Are you ok? Why did Mr. Davis make you stay back?” Soobin asks as he sat down on the corner of your table.

Beomgyu started to randomly play with the ends of your hair, Mia stood beside Yeonjun and Hyuka and Tae stood beside you waiting with anticipation.

You got up, clearing your throat. “Uhm, he wanted to talk to me about the paper I handed in before summer.”

“Oh no, did you fail?” Beomgyu asks with sad eyes.

You shake your head, pulling the report out of your bag, placing it on the table so all of them could look at it.

“A 100!?” Taehyun gasps.

“Wow. You fucking nerd.” Beomgyu says rolling his eyes. “This is why you’re down? What’s wrong with you.” Hueningkai adds as he gently nudges your shoulder.

Yeonjun looks from the paper to you with big and proud eyes. He gives you a tender smile as he caresses your cheek. “This is incredible. I’m so proud of you,” he speaks with sincerity.

You bite your lip as you nod absentmindedly and force out a smile.

“Can we go have lunch. I’m starving.” Taehyun says as he walks out of the classroom first, followed by an equally hungry Beomgyu and Hueningkai.

As they left Soobin turns to you. “Ok, so what’s really wrong.”

“Nothing. The whole being followed everywhere thing is just getting to me I guess.”

“I’m so sorry.” Yeonjun says as he avoids eye contact. His tone was somber, and suddenly you feel bad.

“Hey, look at me,” you say as you tug on his chin. “None of this is your fault. You can’t blame yourself for what’s happening. This is out of your control, do you understand?” your tone was stern as you spoke to him. You talked to him as if you were trying to make a child understand something but it was necessary.

You needed him to understand.

He bit his lip, wanting to disagree with you but Soobin jumped in to back you up. “She’s right. Don’t beat yourself up over this. Everything will be okay.”

You had one more class left for the day but you decided to skip it, not being able to focus on anything else other than the life-changing decision you would have to make soon.

You desperately needed to consult someone about this and even though things weren’t quite the same between you two, the only person you can confide in about something like this was Mia.

Soobin would be too emotionally involved, and even though Mia is too, she’d be more rational about things.

She was on your couch, reading the email Mr. Davis sent you and her eyes widened right before she started yelling.

“WHAT!? BROWN! THIS IS HUGE!?”

“I mean don’t get me wrong, our school is great…but it’s no Brown University.” she gulps with enlarged pupils.

You sigh, relieved to know that she’s excited for you, but then the inevitable question came up.

“How long? Like a few weeks?” she asks with an excited twinkle in her eyes.

You shake your head. “More like a few months…6 to be exact.”

And suddenly her smile falters. “Oh…”

“Yeah…oh.” You say mimicking her as you sit down next to her.

“I- well…that’s a lot to think about,” Mia says with a pout. It was finally clicking to her why you were so out of it earlier today.

“I know…” you say as you stare into distance, losing yourself in your thoughts once again.

“What’s holding you back?” Mia asks as she studies you. You look back at her with sad eyes and without a word, she could already guess what you were about to say.

“Yeonjun?” she assumes and you nod in response.

“It just doesn’t seem right to leave him in the midst of all of this.”

“Y/n…don’t you think distance might be exactly what you need from him? If you are meant to be, it’ll be. And if you think of it. Maybe time apart is what you need. This is the perfect opportunity to heal individually and come back as better people…so you can be better together.”

Well. She has a point there.

“It’s not like I want you gone, fuck no. I’m gonna miss you so much and I’m pretty sure Soobin will fall apart without you but…y/n this is a once in a lifetime type of opportunity.” Mia says as she wraps an arm around you.

You sigh, moving into her hold to hug her. She’s surprised by the action, not thinking you were ready for that yet, you know; given everything that happened, but you desperately needed a hug right now. Mia tightened her hold on you and sighed.

“You’ll be okay. And we’ll all just be a phone call away.”

A single tear escapes from your eye and you let go of her, wiping it away while trying to contain your emotions.

You know you have to go. You really do. But what you don’t know is how to tell Yeonjun.

“Will you help me write the email to Mr. Davis? I’m going to tell him that I’m going.”

Mia gave you a weak smile, wiping away the watery remnants of your tear away from your cheek. She sighed, scooting closer to you.

“Of course.”

“Hyung, pass the ball,” Taehyun says with a raised eyebrow as he watches Yeonjun dribble the ball absentmindedly for over 30 seconds.

They had practice, and even though Yeonjun wasn’t feeling up to it at all, he knew he had to go. He had to live his life like he normally would and basketball practice was one of those ‘normal’ things.

Yeonjun snapped out of his thoughts and passed the ball to Taehyun before looking over his shoulder to watch one of the security details on the benches.

A lot of people came to watch during practice, so it wouldn’t be noticeable, but Taehyun has the wit of a mind reader, therefore he immediately caught on to who Yeonjun was looking at.

“Who’s that?” Taehyun asks as he passes the ball back to Yeonjun. He swiftly caught it, looking at Taehyun with wide eyes. “Ehm, don’t know. A scout maybe?”

Taehyun narrowed his eyes at Yeonjun and sighed. “I know you and Soobin are keeping secrets from the rest of us. We’re not dumb hyung, or at least I’m not.”

Yeonjun sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Just trust us. Once all of it is over we’ll tell you.”

“Once what is over?” he tried again.

“Taehyun.” Yeonjun’s voice was strict, it was a clear warning for Taehyun to stop asking questions but the younger one wasn’t quite having it.

He rolled his eyes, dropping the ball as he walked off to a different teammate.

The last thing Yeonjun wanted was to create a distance between all of them but he had no choice. The fewer people knew, the better it’d be.

Soobin stood in the corner, watching them closely, and approached once Taehyun walked off in annoyance.

He sighed, patting Yeonjun on the shoulder which made Yeonjun jump at the unexpected touch.

“Oh, sorry. It’s just me.” Soobin speaks as he fixes a piece of Yeonjun’s hair, which made him smile at Soobin softly.

“The boys are getting suspicious,” Yeonjun states as he eyes them from afar with his arms crossed.

“Yeah, this morning Beomgyu asked me why we were being secretive,” Soobin says doing the same.

“Beomgyu did?”

“Yeah…”

“Well then it must be fucking obvious cause he’s oblivious.”

Soobin chuckled. “Don’t worry about it, they’ll understand once we-” he got cut off by the buzzing of Yeonjun’s phone. Soobin watched Yeonjun carefully as he looked at the caller ID.

“It’s my mom,” Yeonjun says with big eyes.

Soobin lips form an ‘o’ as he steps closer to check his phone. “Well, pick it up?”

“Wait, come with me to the dressing rooms,” Yeonjun says as he drags Soobin with him.

Meanwhile, Beomgyu, Taehyun, and Hueningkai were watching them run off together from the bleachers.

Hueningkai’s eyes followed them as he raised his eyebrows in confusion. “First they don’t talk to each other for a week, and now they don’t talk to us.”

“I don’t know what’s going on with them either,” Beomgyu says as he clings onto Taehyuns arm while resting his head on Tae’s shoulder. “I just want all of us to get along like we used to.”

Taehyun pouts. “Then let’s find out what’s going on with them.”

As the boys kept speculating about the situation, Soobin and Yeonjun had locked themselves in a dressing room; making sure that no one was around before Yeonjun answered the phone, putting it on speaker so both of them could hear clearly.

“Mom?”

“What took you so long?” His mothers’ voice was clear and calm, yet cold.

“I had to go somewhere secluded, I was in the middle of practice,” he carefully explains. Yeonjun always had the feeling he had to walk on eggshells around his mom, even in a situation like this. “Soobin is also here by the way.”

“Oh…well. I’m just going to cut to the chase. Lita confessed.”

Yeonjun’s eyes darted to Soobin’s equally enlarged ones as his heart dropped. He gulped, as did Soobin. He didn’t understand how Yeonjun’s mother could break the news to him in such an insensitive way.

He knew how much Yeonjun was hurting because of it, and confirmation would only make that worse, so why didn’t Yeonjun’s mother try to at least make an effort to soothe Yeonjun’s already gaping wounds?

“She did?” Yeonjuns eyes instantly started to fill with tears and Soobin noticed. Putting his head on Yeonjun’s shoulder as he quietly rubbed his back in an attempt to comfort him.

Yeonjun couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that the woman that cared for him when no one else would, was a traitor. A cold-blooded traitor who was just after their money.

Was it all a hoax? Did she never care for him at all? Or did something happen that made her turn on his family?

This was the biggest betrayal of his life. If the one person that actually cared for him was able to hurt him like this, then what about everyone else? This ignited a whole new set of trust issues and yet another traumatic experience to talk about with his therapist and honestly, he didn’t know if he could take it anymore.

“She admitted to wanting to overthrow the company. But she did not admit to being behind the attempted assault to y/n. And since no one got hurt paired with the fact that there is no real evidence, we can’t incarcerate her for that.”

“What!?” Yeonjun exclaims in disbelief. “You’re telling me that we can’t press charges against Lita for trying to hurt y/n?”

“I’m afraid not…you’re going to have to fly out again to testify as a witness. I don’t want to bother y/n too much so I’ll just have my people call her for questioning, however since you are the sole heir to Choi Enterprises, I’m going to need you there in court.” His mother states as if it’s nothing.

Yeonjun’s mind was spinning. He had too many questions and too little brain capacity to be able to ask all of them at once. He swallowed harshly as Soobin motioned to Yeonjun to give him the phone, and without a thought, he did.

Soobin cleared his throat before speaking, hoping not to be out of line by doing so, but he could tell Yeonjun was having a hard time to collect his thoughts.

“Hello mam, this is Soobin. Uhm, I hope it’s ok.”

“Oh, hi. Yes, of course. Proceed.”

Soobin smacked his lips nervously, instantly intimidated by the sound of her voice yet he decided to speak anyway.

“How do we know for sure if Lita’s minions will stand down now that she got caught? And is she in jail now? I’m not quite sure if I get it. And do we need the security guards? It’s pretty bothersome and distracting to all of us…” Soobin says as he watches Yeonjun stare into nothingness.

He sighed awaiting a response. Soobin laced his fingers with Yeonjun’s to calm him down once more and it seemed to work as Yeonjun’s attention averted back to the conversation at hand.

“We won’t know for sure. But it’d be really stupid of her to try anything now that we’ve caught her. The security details will stay with you all until this is over with, that’s not up for discussion. And yes. Lita will rot in jail. I’ll make sure of it.”

Shivers ran down Soobin’s spine at the scary tone of Yeonjun’s mother. She was beyond reasoning with but could he blame her? A trusted family employee of over 20 years has made the ultimate betrayal. Soobin couldn’t imagine the hurt and anger she must be feeling right now, so he didn’t dare to go against her about the security guard situation.

Yeonjun’s lower lip trembled as he silently took the phone from Soobin again.

“Mom…” his voice was shaky. He sounded lost and scared, like a child calling out for his mother in distress.

His mother immediately softened at the sound of his voice. Her heart hurting for him as the realization hit her. She had been in overdrive. Lacking sleep and working day and night to make sure Yeonjun and his friends were safe, but she didn’t stop to think about how he’d be feeling in the midst of all of this.

Her mind briefly flashed back to when she confronted Lita in her home office, surrounded by her security and private detectives. She reminisced to the horror on Lita’s face after getting caught for the unforgivable.

She was so busy with making sure that Lita wouldn’t be a threat anymore, that she completely disregarded the fact that Yeonjun might be having the hardest time of them all.

Even though Lita was a trusted employee, their relationship didn’t go further than business, but Yeonjun was raised by her, and she completely forgot about that.

“I can’t take this…” a tear escapes Yeonjun’s eye. And another one, and another one. Wiping them away was no use as they kept coming, so he just let them fall freely. He silently sobbed while Soobin put Yeonjuns head on his shoulder, letting him weep like a baby as he still held on to Yeonjun’s hand.

His mother fell silent, unable to comfort her son because she didn’t know how.

“I’m sorry Yeonjun,” she says in almost a whisper. “I’m sorry you have to feel this type of pain. I will do everything I can to help you okay? I promise. Once the situation is dealt with I will get you the best team of people to help you with your troubles, I won’t mess up this time. I promise I’ll be there for you.”

Yeonjun sniffed, trying to collect himself to respond but he couldn’t. Promises are just words. Words that have meant nothing in his life.

“I don’t need a team of people mom, I need you,” his voice cracked. “I need this pain to stop. I just need my mother, not a lawyer or another therapist. I just need you. I need a parent.”

Soobin’s heart wrenched in his chest at the plea’s Yeonjun was making to his mother. He couldn’t imagine having this type of relationship with his own parents.

In the moment Soobin made a pledge with himself that no matter how much Yeonjun seems to fuck up, he won’t ever leave him behind. He will make sure to be the rock Yeonjun needs, regardless of his mother actually trying or not.

Taehyun, Beomgyu, and Hueningkai had their ears pressed against the door throughout the whole thing. As silence engulfed the space, the three of them looked at each other with enlarged pupils as shock took over their faces.

They put two and two together individually. Looking at each other with disheartened expressions.

“Oh no…” Taehyun says in a whisper.

You didn’t know how to tell them.

You didn’t know how to tell Yeonjun or Soobin individually so you just invited all of the boys over at once to get it over with.

It was nighttime by now and you figured you’d cook them all dinner given the fact that food always lures them to your place. Hopefully, the sweet taste of your homemade brownies would subside the bitter news you had to break to them.

Mia helped with everything, the table was fully decked out with all sorts of dishes and it was obvious you were overcompensating for something but they had no clue yet.

When they got to your apartment, Yeonjun and Soobin were missing from the group which made you panic a little.

“Damn what’s the occasion?” Beomgyu asks as his mouth waters, looking at the absolute feast you cooked up for them.

“Uhm, well. I have some news, but I have to wait for Yeonjun and Soobin to tell you guys.”

Mia awkwardly took place at the table between Hueningkai and Taehyun and Tae just stared at you. “Please tell me you’re not pregnant.”

“NO! Oh my god. Tae. No.” you give him a horrified look and pat your stomach.

“Thank god, I’m too young to be an uncle.” Hueningkai sighs in relief as he slouched in his seat.

“Yeah, when you said you were cooking us dinner cause you had an announcement to make I really thought Yeonjun finally knocked someone up.” Beomgyu snickers as he shoved a dumpling in his mouth.

You roll your eyes and look at the two empty seats. “Do you know where they are?”

Your question triggered a silence so awkward, you’ve never experienced anything like it in your friend group.

Taehyun looked at Beomgyu, and Beomgyu looked at Hueningkai; while Hueningkai looked to Taehyun to take the lead.

“I-uhh…” Tae starts, but he stopped himself. He didn’t know how much you both knew of the situation so he decided against speaking about it.

“They had some errands to run. I’m sure they’ll be here soon.”

Beomgyu visibly relaxed in his seat at Tae made up an alibi for the boys’ whereabouts, but Mia – being the hyper-aware one – narrowed her eyes at them.

The boys collectively agreed on pretending they didn’t know what was going on until either Yeonjun or Soobin would tell them themselves. They wanted to give them; and especially Yeonjun, time to process and didn’t want to push him into explaining the situation to them if he wasn’t ready for it.

Also, they felt bad for eavesdropping and weren’t sure how to start the conversation even if they wanted to.

The twisting of your lock snaps you out of the moment and suddenly fear takes over your entire body. The trauma triggered by Lita’s minion trying to break your lock last night was the cause of your shocked Pikachu face, but when you see Soobin and Yeonjun in your door opening you relax instantly.

You gave Soobin a key, how could you forget.

“Oh, I didn’t expect you guys here so soon.” Hueningkai comments, which made Gyu and Tae look at him with threatening eyes.

“Where else would we be?” Soobin asks as he walks towards the table. He greeted you with a kiss on your head, and Mia with a kiss on her cheek before he sat down next to you.

The distance between Mia and Soobin was still odd, he’d normally kiss her lips but he played it off well as he slid his chair towards the table while eyeing the food closely.

Yeonjun on the other hand; greeted you with a soft smile while simply petting your head before he sat down on the opposite side of Soobin.

The atmosphere was odd. Yeonjun was uncharacteristically quiet but you figured it was because of everything that was going on and honestly you couldn’t blame him. His head must be the fullest out of all of you, so you made sure to keep the conversation light and airy.

Your funny group dynamic slowly returned, and before you knew it, it was already time for dessert.

“I’ll help you.” Yeonjun offered as he cleared the table.

You were in your kitchen, taking a deep breath as you were cutting up the last brownie, prettily putting it on a plate with some red berries on the side.

As Yeonjun approached with the dishes, he watched you carefully. He put the dirty plates in the sink before he nudged your shoulder softly to get your attention, pulling you out of your concentration of perfectly assembling your masterpiece.

You look up, and you’re met with his beautiful soft smile. His eyes were glistening and he sighed contently. “You went all out,” he comments as he watches you do your thing. “Yeah, maybe I should deliver one to my designated security guard in the parking lot,” you joke under your breath and even though your sense of humor was pretty dark given the situation, he seemed to appreciate it as he giggled. Your heart did a thing at the sound. You missed it. You missed hearing his loud laugh. You missed seeing him happy.

“There’s actually new information I want to share with you and Mia, but we’ll have to wait until the boys leave.”

You look at him shortly before you avert your gaze back on the task at hand. You really didn’t know if the timing was right to talk about your exchange to Brown University but given the fact that you were leaving so soon, you also knew that you didn’t have much of a choice.

Suddenly you felt guilty again for leaving in the midst of all of this, but he’d understand? Right?

You nod absentmindedly and tell him to sit down with the others so you could start decking the table and once everyone had a plate, you stood at the edge of your dinner table looking at them nervously.

They all give you puzzled looks, while Mia gave you a reassuring nod.

“So…they’re Brownies.”

Soobin chuckled, raising his eyebrow. “I can see that.”

“No well…they’re…brownies for…Brown University,” you explain nervously.

“Huh?” Beomgyu breaks the silence, his eyes darting from the plate to you.

All eyes were on you by now, expectantly waiting for you to continue.

“Remember that paper from this morning?”

“The one you got a 100 on?” Hueningkai asks.

“Yes, well. Uhm. Mr Davis sort of, might’ve sent it to a representative at Brown…and they want to like…fund my research or whatever,” you say avoiding eye contact as you fidget with the sleeves of your blouse.

“Brown!? Dude. That’s…insane!” Taehyun exclaims enthusiastically.

“God, and here I thought you really were pregnant.” Beomgyu huffs. “But this is amazing!”

“Yes, congratulations sis, you really deserved it!” Hueningkai says with a bright smile.

You look at them with an elated facial expression, happy that they’re happy for you. But then you turn your head and look at Soobin who has literal tears in his eyes.

“…Soobin?” you lean in to see if your eyes were deceiving you but they weren't. His eyes really were teary.

“Hyung are those tears?” Taehyun asks wide-eyed.

He sniffed, wiping his eyes as he got up from the chair to trap you into a tight hug. “I’m just really proud of you,” he mumbles.

As you’re trapped in his bear-hug, your nerves fade. “Finally some good news,” he whispers into your ear. And you close your eyes at the solace of this peaceful moment.

Yes, it really is good news. And only now you realize just how amazing it is that you’ve accomplished this all on your own. You finally get to be happy about it now that you’ve told them.

When he let go, you finally make eye contact with Yeonjun and he had an equally proud smile on his face to match Soobin’s.

“This is amazing, y/n. You earned it.” he says with glistening pupils and your heart raced at his sweet remark.

“So, how long will you be gone for? Like a week? Two weeks?” Beomgyu asks as he chews on the fudgy brownie you made them.

Oh…shit. You didn’t tell them how long you’d be gone for.

You shoot Mia a panicked look but her facial expression only matched yours.

“Uhm…”

All eyes were on you again. They were full of hope, expectation, and pride; and for some reason, you knew you were going to ruin the moment.

“It’s…about a semester-long,” you admit, and all of their facial expressions fall at the same time.

“That’s…six months.” Soobin realizes. It hit him that his best friend; who he’s never been more than a week without, will leave his side for half a year for the first time in his life.

“Damn…that’s a long time…” Taehyun says looking from you to Yeonjun with concern.

You didn’t dare look at him, but you knew that all of them were.

Mia bit her lip as she looked at how sad Soobin had gotten, but her gaze averted to Yeonjun and her look changed from sadness to confusion.

Yeonjun was…smiling.

Your eyes found his as he smiled at you fondly. He’s dying inside, but of course, he wouldn’t tell you that. There’s no way in hell he’d ruin this moment for you.

He had to man up and show his best fake smile because he’d never guilt trip you into not going. The opportunity was too big to let go, and honestly. You being far, very far away from this whole mess kind of eased his mind.

You’d be safe.

Without him around.

“What?” he asks trying to sound genuinely confused as to why everyone was looking at him.

“Aren’t you…upset?” Mia asks carefully, which made Yeonjun look at her briefly before looking at everyone’s equally worried facial expressions, including yours.

You expected every possible reaction, except this one, and it lowkey scared you.

“How could I be upset?” he says with an eye-smile as he breaks off a piece of the brownie, shoving it into his mouth while giving all of you innocent puppy-eyes.

Someone get this man an Oscar.

You didn’t know if you should be happy or sad that he reacted the way he did. You’d rather have him yell at you for leaving him, that’d be a lot less unnerving than the scarily calm and collected man sitting in front of you right now.

“Hyung, she’s leaving for half a year.” Beomgyu tries to make this clearer, thinking that Yeonjun didn’t understand, but he did, fully.

“I know. Look, I will obviously miss y/n. But what good will it do if I let my emotions get the best of me right now? This is supposed to be a joyful moment. She’s worked for this her whole life guys. Let’s be proud and happy for her. It’s almost like you all want me to freak out?”

Every single one of you was absolutely dumbfounded by his comment. It was mature of him, that’s for sure, but you expected at least some emotion other than this capitalist smile he had on his face.

“Let’s give them some time alone,” Soobin says as he got up. “I will talk to you later.” He states as he passes by you, squeezing your hand in reassurance.

Your pupils dart from him to Mia and the rest of the boys in panic. Oh no, please don’t leave.

Yeonjun still sat at your dinner table like a robot while the rest of them quickly thanked you for dinner as they left your place, taking their brownies with them.

They all followed Soobin obediently and after Mia whispered in your ear to call her if anything popped off, she left. And you were all alone with Yeonjun.

You turn around on your heels. Making your way to your dinner table again as your heart thumped in your chest.

You carefully approach him, pulling out a chair to sit beside him and you just silently take his hand.

He refused to make eye contact with you, and suddenly you felt like the biggest dick in the universe.

“Please don’t make me say it,” he says.

“Say what?” you squeeze his hand, waiting for him to respond.

“Please don’t make me tell you that I want you to stay, because I do. But I could never, ever be that selfish.”

“Yeonjun….I’m the selfish one.”

His eyes shot up to look at yours. His pupils were dilated, alarmed, and startled.

“No, you’re not. You’re going. End of story, and when you come back, I’m going to love you just as much, maybe even more than when you left.”

Your eyes start to fill with tears, and he’s quick to notice as he pulled you into his lap, cradling you like a baby.

“Hey, shhh. Don’t cry.” his voice was laced with sadness as he watched you cry. He hated the sight more than anything and tried to wipe your tears with his thumbs.

“Yeonjun, I don’t want to abandon you.” You sniff into his neck as all the tension and nerves of making this life-altering decision get to you.

It’s not like you weren’t coming back, but 6 months is a long time. You weren’t the same person you were 2 months ago, let alone 6.

“You’re not, don’t say that.”

“I don’t want you to hate me,” you mumble as you sniff.

“I could never hate you y/n. Ever.” He assured you of his true feelings as he rubbed your back, trying to soothe your pain as you cried into the crook of his neck.

His cold fingers caressed your cheek, and he closed his eyes for a second. Listening to you cry softly in silence as he contemplated on what to say.

“This is supposed to be a good thing baby…why are you crying.”

Baby. He hasn’t called you that in a while.

"Because I don't want to leave you."

He was trying his hardest to keep it together, but to be honest he was one push away from a mental breakdown.

He needed you, now more than ever. But Yeonjun would never tell you that, cause you’d stay for him, and he knew it.

“Maybe space is what we need,” he says with a heavy heart, and your tears immediately stopped.

You look up at him. What did he just say to you?

He sighed, tracing his fingers over your lips before tugging at your chin to pull you closer. He placed his lips on yours and kissed you softly, passionately, and lovingly before he pulls away to rest his forehead against yours.

“Let’s be real y/n. Being with me has only complicated things. Maybe we can use these 6 months and try to grow separately before we can be great together…”

Mia said the exact same thing, but if he’s saying what you think he’s saying; then you honestly didn’t want to hear it.

Long-distance would be rough, but it’d be better than not having him at all.

You wipe your tears away with your sleeve and sniff once again, trying to collect yourself before you start to speak again.

“You want to end whatever it is that we have?”

“No…and yes…”

“Why…” you sounded absolutely broken as your voice cracked, it made his heart hurt for you so he sighed loudly. Looking you in the eye with desperation.

“Because I can’t love you the way you deserve to be loved y/n. At least not now. I'm...fucked up.”

You look at him with glassy eyes, shocked to hear his confession. You leaving was just the final straw. He has tried to do this before when he planned to stay back home and work for Choi Enterprises, but this was the first time he said it. With actual words.

“Why? What changed. I thought that-”

“Lita confessed.” He interrupts you before you could make any assumptions yourself.

“W-what?”

“She confessed, I have to leave for home next Wednesday to testify against her in court. Everything’s going so fucking fast…”

“Next Wednesday? I also leave next Wednesday...” you mumble softly.

His eyes grew big. “You’re leaving that soon?”

You nod, biting your lip, and notice how Yeonjun had trouble putting his thoughts into words so you encourage him by caressing his cheek, nodding at him to let him know that it was ok to say whatever was on his mind; even if it didn’t make sense.

He rubbed his temple in agony before avoiding your piercing gaze as he spoke. “I thought I had enough to deal with when my dad died, but her confessing that she was capable of doing all the things she’s done felt even worse than my fathers’ death. This time it feels like I lost a real parent y/n. I don’t’ know how to move on from this…”

“And this is exactly why I’m not leaving,” you say getting up in a hurry as you frantically start looking for your phone.

He watched you a little startled at your sudden changed demeanor and got on his feet just as quick.

“Hey, hey, hey.” He grabbed your wrists, making you look at him. “What are you doing?”

“Finding my phone, I’m calling Mr. Davis. I’m canceling the whole thing.”

“No, you’re not.” Yeonjun’s tone was serious.

“You are going. You are going to take this once in a lifetime opportunity, and change history with your research do you hear me? You could help so many people with this. It’s your passion. Your dream. And you’re telling me you’re ready to drop all of that…because of me?”

You didn’t know what else to do other than nod. Yes. You were ready to drop it all for him, but Yeonjun just shook his head in disbelief.

“No, y/n. I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For saying what I’m about to say, but you’re not going to ruin your life like this. I won’t drag you down with me. I won’t ever let that happen.”

“So what are you saying?” you looked at him with teary eyes, your pupils darting back and forth before he let go of you.

‘I’m saying that…we need to hit pause on whatever this is.” He couldn’t believe he said this.

He really didn’t. And he felt instant regret as he watched your face crumble.

He wasn’t the only one with abandonment issues, because so were you.

He promised your dad that he’d never break your heart, yet here he was. In your living room, looking at you fall apart, and he was the cause of it all.

“I’m sorry y/n. I love you. I really do. That’s why I’m doing this,” he says as he cups your face in his hands. Tears were also starting to fall from his eyes by now, and you just stood there in his hold. Completely lost and frozen.

“Please don’t hate me,” he whispered as he buried his face in your hair to muffle his soft sobs. He wrapped his arms around you tightly, holding on to you one more time before he couldn’t anymore. He took the chance and kissed you once more. You let his lips ghost over yours before you pull away.

“I could never hate you Yeonjun.”

Before you knew it, Wednesday rolled around.

It felt like only yesterday when you told your friends that you were leaving, and today you actually were.

Soobin helped you with your suitcase as the rest of them trailed behind you with long faces.

They were all there to send you off, except for Yeonjun. He had to leave early to catch his flight back home to testify against Lita in court, and honestly, you were glad he wasn't here right now. Seeing him again after your tearful goodbye was something you weren’t ready for.

The timing of things was just incredibly wrong, and you wished you were able to support him throughout the whole legal process and emotional storm he had to go through back home but you couldn’t, and you both already made peace with it.

You were a single woman again. Leaving to live a different life at a new school.

You both decided it’d be for the better like this since both of you were going to walk different life paths from now on, at least for the next six months. It wasn’t certain if things would go back to normal upon your return in the future and that uncertainty is what hurt you the most.

With a heavy heart, you turn around to face your friends when you arrive at the check-in desk, and without a word, a big group hug is formed.

“We’ll miss you,” Hueningkai mumbles into the hug.

“Even I will.” Taehyun sighs.

You let go of them with a smile, knowing you have to put on a brave face for this to not turn into yet another emotional tear-fest.

“I’ll be back before you know it. And it’s not like I’m dying guys. There’s this thing called the internet. We can still see and talk to each other.” You chuckle as you nudge Beomgyu who was pouting at you and you wrap an arm around Taehyun who was standing next to you.

You avert your gaze from the boys and make eye contact with Soobin who wasn’t the best at concealing his emotions.

He pouted as he sniffed, wiping his eye.

Mia chuckled. “Are you crying AGAIN?”

“No. I have something in my eye.”

“Yes. I can see it.” Beomgyu says as he leans forward to look into Soobin’s eyes dramatically. “It’s a dust particle called little bitch.”

“Shut up.” Soobin huffs as he shoves the younger one away, and all of you burst into laughter.

Thank god for that moment of laughter, it took the edge off and made everything a lot less emo.

You had a long talk with Soobin the night before when he helped you pack your stuff. The hard part was over with, though you could tell he was still struggling to let you go. But he knew that it was all for the greater good.

You sighed as you walked up to him for a tight hug, and as you let go of each other you give Mia a smirk “Look after him for me will ya.”

“You know I will.” She smiles at you as she pulls you in for a hug as well, and suddenly it got really warm again as the boys wrapped themselves into the hug once more.

You giggle, looking at them one last time before you take a hold of your suitcase.

The check-in for your flight had started, and you were called to move in line.

“Bye guys.”

You wave at each other as the distance became bigger and bigger, and when they were completely out of sight you’re able to breathe again.

You bite your lip, trying to suppress the urge to cry and run back to them. Run back to your safety net of the people you loved and cared for the most, but you knew you had to do this.

You were excited to start a new adventure, but you wished you didn’t have to sacrifice so much to be able to do it.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket as you sat at your gate, lost in thought while you waited to board the airplane.

Your eyes widen when you saw his name pop up in your notifications and quickly open your messenger app.

[Yeonjun, 10.43 AM]: Good luck on your new journey and have a safe flight. I wish I could be there to send you off but just know I’m thinking of you. Always.

[Yeonjun, 10.44 AM]: Take care y/n. I love you.

Chapter 14 - The Finale

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what-is-your-plan-today · 3 years

Text

Murder, He Wrote

Part 3 Co-Written with @southerngracela

Summary: It’s Thanksgiving, but when you’re being held hostage by Hugh Ransom Drysdale there’s really not a lot to be thankful for, is there?

Warnings: Bad language words. MATURE (NSFW 18+) NON-CON situation, kidnap, violence. DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THOSE TRIGGER… READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!

Pairing: DARK! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N: So this is Part 2 to our submission for @jtargaryen18 ‘s Haunted House 2020 Challenge. Once again READ THE WARNINGS!!!! This is a DARK Series… don’t @ us if you can’t follow simple instructions and end up with butt-hurt. And if you’re under 18…get off my blog.

Series Masterlist.