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mf-despair-queen · 3 years

Text

Partners in Crime - Lee Taeyong

Author: @mf-despair-queen

Pairing: Lee Taeyong/Reader - Mafia AU

Word Count: 17,864

Summary: Y/N meets the man of her dreams one day randomly on the street. Little does she know - he is the boss of a mafia in town. But does she care? No. They were partners in life - and partners in crime.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, I am too lazy to put more to this.

Notes: April Fools - I’m actually posting! I’ve only had this sitting in my drafts completed for over 3 months. Be warned - I didn’t really proofread this. But it’s fine. everything is fine! Enjoy!

“You should have left while you could…”

“You know that wasn’t a choice.” A hand slid into his.”We are partners in crime after all. If you go down, I’m going down with you. I will follow you to the ends of the earth, and I will never regret it.”

A small smile graced the man’s face, lacing his fingers with yours. With a reassuring squeeze and the click of his gun in his right hand, he glanced to his side.

“I honestly knew this day was going to come eventually. I knew I would go down one way or another,,” he rasped, tucking the gun once more into the back of his jeans. His eyes locked on yours before continuing, “But I’m glad that I have you by my side.”

You smiled at him before placing a tender kiss to his lips, your free hand carefully placed on his bandaged shoulder. His eyes closed, relishing in the feeling and taste of your lips on his. The screams from outside the building fell on deaf ears. The threats made went unheard. In those ten seconds, it was just the both of you, embraced by the calm emotions shared between your forms. Silent tears slid down your cheeks from fear and sadness, knowing your impending fate, but he wiped them away gently after pulling away. His lips dragged down yours as he backed away solemnly, wishing this wouldn’t be the end.

“I love you,” he mumbled just loud enough to be heard.

“I love you too,” you repeated, taking his hand and preparing to stand and face the gallows of red and blue lights flashing through broken windows and bent blinds. “I always will, Taeyong.”

“Excuse me!” The young man called, though his calls went unnoticed. Heavy footsteps fell along the concrete as he attempted to catch your retreating figure, clutching the book you dropped while rapidly making your way down the road. When he finally caught up and tapped your shoulder to get your attention, he understood why you ignored his calls.

With a jump in shock, you turned to the red haired man in awe. Earbuds were tucked deep in your ears, soothing jams filling your mind as you moved. Time stood still when your eyes met his deep brown ones, your heart jumping slightly. Before you stood a handsome man, mid-twenties if you had to guess, with sweet, angelic eyes, fluffy hair draping across his forehead and shielding the small slit in his eyebrow, and the sharpest jaw you had ever encountered.

He wore a simple red wool shirt that hugged his neck and lean torso, a thin black hoodie and a puffed gray vest that was decorated in red designs. Black jeans hugged his slim waist, a black belt wrapped through the looks, and black vans covered the white socks on his feet. Three sparkling earrings dangled from his left ear, a ring adorning his left helix and one single stud rounded out his jewelry.

Realizing that all you were doing was staring, the man awkwardly smiling and uttering mumbled words through your music, you tugged the earbuds out. “I’m sorry about that,” you whispered sheepishly. “Music.”

“I get it,” he chuckled deeply. His voice was smooth and sweet, the underlying rasp making your heart jump a second time. “I don’t mean to bother you, but I saw you drop this earlier.”

He extended the book towards you, your eyes widening at his gesture. Carefully, you took the book from him, glancing into your small bag to find it empty. “Oh my god. I didn’t even realize it fell out. Thank you so much.”

“It’s no problem at all,” he laughed, tucking his hands in his pockets. “It’s the least I could do to help a beautiful girl.”

A blush spread along your cheeks, a shy smile growing on your lips. Tucking the book safely back into your bag, you glanced at the handsome man. “Well, can I know the name of the lovely gentleman that returned my book and made my trip to the cafe to read not in vain?”

He smiled, extending a hand toward you. “I’m Taeyong.”

You took his hand, finding it warm and soft. “Y/N.”

“It’s a pleasure, Y/N.”

“Same,” you chimed. “Well Taeyong, how can I ever repay you for this?”

“Oh, you don’t have to-” he started to say, sealing his lips when you shook your head.

“Please, I insist! I really appreciate what you did. I would have lost it in the middle of the cafe if I found I lost this book. It’s my favorite and it was a gift from my sister,” you confided. “I want to repay you somehow. Please?”

“Well,” he started, rubbing his lips together. His eyes narrowed and his lips curled into a cheshire-like smirk. “You could let me buy you a coffee.”

You giggled at his suggestion, tucking some hair behind your ear. “I’d like that, but only on one condition.”

“Oh?”

“You join me for said coffee?”

Taeyong chuckled, nodding happily. “I’d love that.”

A smile grew on your face, butterflies fluttering rampantly inside your stomach. You could feel a small blush spreading across your cheeks as your looked up at the handsome man. “Great. Shall we get going?”

Taeyong smiled back, his glowing smile infectious. “Lead the way, beautiful,” he uttered. You nodded, turning on your heel and leading him towards your original destination - Haru & Oneday - with Taeyong at your side. His hands were tucked deep in his pockets as you walked, a happy hum coming from the man. “So, tell me about yourself.”

You giggled, shaking your head. “That’s a deep conversation. I hope you know that.”

“I have time.”

A skip inside your chest, a knot of excitement in your gut, a flash of heat across your face despite the chilled weather of December.

“Well…”

The entire afternoon was spent talking, tucked into a small corner of the cafe. The second you arrived, Taeyong asked what you wanted. While he ordered your coffee, you picked a secluded place to talk, knowing the book you planned to read that day would go untouched. You were more interested in the mysterious man that captivated you on the street, kindly returning your lost item.

And learn about him you did. He was a kind soul, living in the same building as a bunch of friends that he worked with in business. He enjoyed singing and dancing in his free time, spitting a rap that made you laugh and clap in excitement. He liked to cook, but you figured out that he had a massive sweet tooth more than anything from the way he devoured a whole slice of chocolate cake by himself. The smile that lit up his face as he ate the decadent treat made you smile happily.

You told him your story - where you were from, growing up in Busan, your love for cooking and reading. You even told him about the boring desk job you worked to pay for the small apartment you had. You lived an ordinary, boring life in your opinion, but Taeyong listened intently, taking interest in the little things that made you happy.

Just as the sun was setting and his phone was ringing, presumably from his friends asking where he had disappeared to, did you agree to wrap up for the day. Taeyong slipped from his seat first, but not before sliding a folded napkin in your direction.

“I enjoyed spending the day together, Y/N,” he mused, pocketing his hands. “I’m glad I was able to meet you today. It really made my day better. I hope we can do it again sometime.”

He waved before walking off, leaving you to gather your stuff. Just as you were finishing, you glanced at the napkin he left. Your stomach flipped and your heart raced, finding his phone number written on the paper, a cute doodle of himself, and the simple words of Call me? printed underneath. Tucking the napkin in your bag, you left the cafe, thanking the owners on your way out.

It was dark by the time you arrived home, closing the front door with a soft click of the lock. Your shoes were left forgotten in the doorway, headed straight for a shower to wash away the day’ odor. Finishing your nightly routine, you returned to the bag you left on your bed, sitting on the plush mattress. Your fingers tugged out the napkin, your lip tugged between your teeth as you contemplated shortly.

Your fingers moved without much though, grabbing your phone and typing the number into a new contact. The message you sent him was simple.

To: Taeyongie - Hey. This is Y/N. I just wanted to thank you again for today. It was great meeting you and getting to know you. I hope we can do it again sometime.

His response didn’t take long.

From: Taeyongie - I’m glad you messaged me. I was worried for a bit that I wouldn’t get to hear from you again.

From: Taeyongie - I’m glad I got to meet you too. You really brightened up my day, so for that, I have to say thank you.

From: Taeyongie - I can’t wait to see you again.

Your heart was aflutter, sinking into your bed and rereading the message a few times. You were glad you decided to brave the cold and travel to your favorite cafe, even if you hadn’t intended to almost lose your book and meet a gorgeous gentleman that seemed to steal your heart from under your nose already. After many failed relationships through school and early adulthood, you didn’t think you’d find someone like him that would sweep you off your feet so easily.

When your phone buzzed again, making you jump slightly in shock, you reread his last message three times before your eyes grew wide.

From: Taeyongie - Though next time, I hope you’ll allow me to take you out for a proper first date.

Your fingers shook as you tried to type a coherent response,

To: Taeyongie - I’m looking forward to it.

He really was one of a kind.

Nearly four months after meeting Taeyong, you were head over heels for the man. You talked to him daily, waking up to sweet messages wishing you a good day and falling asleep to messages bidding you sweet dreams. You had learned much about the man, finding yourself falling deep into the abyss of his chocolate colored eyes. You were wrapped around his finger, though not in a bad sense. He had stolen your heart, and you were willing to let him keep it.

Every other week, you found yourself going out with the man when you weren’t at your house together. When you chose to stay in, you would be wrapped up on your couch or in your bed watching movies while his fingers ran through your hair soothingly, or the tips of his fingers ghostling along your arms. You’d make dinner together, play games together, and even go out to walk Ruby together when he brought the small dog over for your amusement. You’d occasionally find yourself dancing together around the house, singing whatever song he decided to play for you, but you never once hated these moments. They were some of your favorites.

But he would insist on taking you out to dinner, treating you kindly to a romantic date that consisted of expensive dinners or trips to random places - the arcade and the beach being recurring destinations. He’d never let you pay, sometimes making you wonder how he could afford the expensive meals - he never did clarify what his job was - but you wouldn’t decline the dates if it meant you could see him. After the second date, he would always tentatively kiss you goodnight, the connect short and sweet, leaving you craving more. You never shared more than that - though you wished you did.

Tonight was one of those nights. Taeyong had sent you a sweet morning greeting, telling you that he was going to take you out for dinner that night. He didn’t specify where - only to dress elegantly, finishing with a cheesy remark that you always looked fabulous. He planned to pick you up at six sharp, leaving you the rest of the day to clean around the house and prepare for your fancy date.

At five, you jumped in a shower, dressing in a lacy set of red lingerie before doing your hair and make up. You picked a sleek black dress from your closet - an expensive present you had gotten from your family one year but never found reason to wear - that would accentuate your curves, but not flaunt you in a promiscuous way. The skirt flared out against your thighs and the top hugged your chest, not being too showy around your cleavage. You wanted to impress the man, not make it seem like a slut. You finished with a pair of low heels and minimal jewelry consisting of earrings and a necklace Taeyong insisted he buy you on your third date.

Exactly at six, he was knocking on your door, holding a bouquet of roses in his hands. He smiled brightly, tilting his head cutely in greeting. The silver earrings swung with the movement, a few loose strands from his slicked back hair flopping loose. He wore a red and black checkered jacket over a black and white checkered button up shirt, tight black jeans with rips in the knees hugging his lean waist.

“Hey beautiful,” he greeted, extending the flowers towards you. “These are for you.”

“You know you didn’t have to, Tae,” you giggled, taking the flowers from him and relishing in the delicate aroma they offered. “But they are beautiful. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I know I didn’t have to but they always make you smile,” he mused with a smile. He watched you rush to put the flowers in a vase before grabbing your purse, locking the door on your way out. His arms wrapped around you, hanging loosely at your side as he stared down at your smiling face. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you murmured with a light blush, running your hands up his arms, resting on his biceps. “You don’t look half bad yourself. Not that it’s hard for you with your face.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he laughed, taking your hand. “Shall we get going? Dinner awaits.”

“Lead the way.”

He led you to a car - which was rare - that took you to your mysterious location. The tall man in the driver’s seat introduced himself as Johnny, giving you both a smile before driving off. Turned out the man was one of Taeyong’s friends that he had told you briefly about before, and he had kindly offered to drive you both seeing as Taeyong didn’t have a license himself. Johnny kept to himself, allowing you to talk freely with Taeyong, the red haired man flirting carelessly the entire time.

You arrived at a tall building, Taeyong chuckling at the confused look on your face when Johnny parked the car and opened Taeyong’s door for him. Taeyong held out a hand to help you from the vehicle, thanking Johnny for the ride. The tall man simply pat his friend on the back and gave him a wink before returning to the car and driving off. Your hand slid back into Taeyong’s as he led you to the doors of the building, the doorman nodding.

“Good evening, Mr. Lee.”

The interaction with the doorman and Taeyong further confused you. This was different than your normal dinner dates where you always had a private room or balcony in the restaurants, servers catering to your every need. He wasn’t leading you into a high class restaurant where he could bypass the line and walk straight to a table without question. You were in a pristine lobby with a fountain and couches, a giant chandelier above your head.

He led you to the elevator and pressed the button for the top floor, snickering at your confusion. He didn’t bother to clarify what was going on. He simply ran his thumb over the back of your hand, listening to the music play above you. When the elevator dinged that you were at the top floor, the man led you out wordlessly, digging into his pocket for a set of keys for the door at the end of the hall.

“Where are we?” you finally questioned, watching him unlock the door.

Taeyong hummed while pushing the door open, allowing you to walk in first. He witnessed you gawking at your new surroundings, the elegant living room of the penthouse you found yourself in leaving you flabbergasted. “Welcome home,” he chimed, shutting the door.

“This is where you live?” you asked, turning to the man. In the time you knew him, he had never once talked about where he lived. You had never seen his house, always spending time together in your tiny, cozy apartment. Now, you were staring at the large living room with multiple plush couches, art lining the walls, and a large kitchen and dining room in the distance. The table was decorated with candles and place settings, a bottle of wine being chilled in a bucket.

“Is it too much?” he asked, pouting slightly.

“You just never mentioned you live in a penthouse!” you scolded, shoving him lightly before wrapping your arms around him. “But this is breathtaking.”

“I’m glad you like it,” he whispered. “I figured that today is our fifth date, not counting our little cafe rendezvous when we first met, so what better date night than for me to make you dinner in my own home.”

“You’re making dinner?” you chirped, gleefully bouncing on the balls of your feet. “I love your cooking so much.”

“Well, go ahead and get comfortable and I will get cooking.”

You nodded, watching him make his way into the kitchen. He poured you a glass of wine before he started cooking, watching you sink into one of the couches to watch him. He caught you occasionally looking around to take in the impressive surroundings, laughing to himself. He told you that his friends lived in their own apartments in the lower floors, leaving you to wonder what exactly they did to afford this. You didn’t know his exact line of work - he always just said business - but he was obviously successful enough to afford the penthouse of the building.

Taeyong beckoned you over when food was ready, pulling out your chair for you. He poured you more wine before serving you a piping hot bowl of bibimbap. Taking his place beside you with his own glass and bowl, he tilted his glass towards you. “To the most beautiful girl in the world.”

You giggled, flushing brightly and tilting your glass to his. With a clink of cups, you responded, “to the most handsome man in the world.”

The meal was delicious, melting on your tongue. You made small talk as you ate, enjoying Taeyong’s giddy nature from drinking. The man couldn’t hold his alcohol at all, and one sip left him red faced and giggly. You helped him with dishes when you were finished, even though he protested it vehemently, finding yourselves flicking water at each other and blowing bubbles into the air.

You curled up on the couch together for a while before he would have to take you home, Your head on his chest and his fingers running through your hair. The silence was welcoming, the sound of his erratic heartbeat all you needed for comfort. He would sometimes hum a song for you, but mostly you just relaxed in his grasp. It was times like this that you enjoyed the most - being with him made you feel content.

In your entire life, you never cared for someone as much as you did the red haired man before you. Never in your life did you like someone as much as you did Taeyong. He made you feel loved and cherished. He made you feel beautiful and wanted.

You wanted nothing more than to be with him forever.

You frowned when he suggested it was time to take you home. Instead of calling Johnny to drive you back, you opted for a late night walk so Taeyong could sober himself up, treating yourselves to some crepes on the way. You walked hand in hand the entire way, the sway between you both making your heart jump in your chest.

Arriving at your apartment, you sighed under your breath, turning to look at the man. “Thank you for tonight,” you told him, giving his hand a squeeze. “I enjoyed our date. I think this was my favorite date so far.”

“Well, there’s more of these to come,” he chuckled, tugging his lip between his teeth. He stared at you silently, moving his free hand up to your face. His fingers curled against your cheek, smoothing across your skin as you sank into his touch. “Y/N…”

“I should probably go inside-”

He cut you off with a passionate kiss, tugging you into him. Your hand was dropped so he could cup your face in both hands, putting everything he could into the connection. The shock from the initial kiss wore off, your eyes fluttering closed and returning his kiss. It was deeper than any kiss you shared before. His head was tilted and your lips meshed together perfectly. Your hands gripped at his jacket, pushing up into him as much as possible.

The world around you stopped. It was just you both in that moment, sharing the most amazing kiss you had ever dreamt of. This was what you wanted, this was what you had waited for. The way his lips dragged against yours as he smothered you with his lips left you eager for more. The smack of his lips disconnecting from yours left you gasping for precious air, yet a desire to return your lips to his.

“Be my girlfriend,” he rasped deeply against your lips.

All you could do was nod in return before he was kissing you again, dropping his hands to your waist to tug you closer. Your hands moved up and around his neck, tangling into his hair, pulling him deeper into you. The kiss intensified, lips speeding up and parting for an entourage of open-mouth kisses to start. Your bodies were flush against one another, heat spreading along your limbs.

The moment was broken from the ring of his phone, the red-haired man pulled back with a scowl. He kept you against him as he fished the phone from his pocket, reading the message he had received. Low strings of curses left his mouth before dropping the phone back into his pants, tilting your head to place a kiss on your forehead.

“I’m sorry, but I have to go. Something came up that I need to take care of.”

“Is everything ok?” you wondered, frowning at his for his reaction to the message.

“Yeah, yeah. Everything is fine, I promise. Just some last minute work popped up that I need to help Mark with,” he tried to reassure you. Something was off about his tone, but you nodded at him anyway. He must have caught your uncertainty, pulling you into a light kiss. “I promise it’s nothing to worry about. Now, go inside and I will talk to you tomorrow, alright?”

“Alright, Taeyong,” you whispered, kissing him one last time before backing away to unlock your door. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he said, blowing you a kiss as he backed away, turning on his heel and stampeding away.

You watched his form vanish around the corner, tucking yourself into your apartment. Leaning against the door, you let your fingers run along your lips, smiling at the thought of your new boyfriend. The questions you had about his late night business venture were pushed aside for now as you chose to trust the man. You rushed to your room to prepare for sleep, enveloped in happy dreams of the red-haired man.

Outside your building, Taeyong stared up at your window for a moment before a black car pulled up. He quietly filled the backseat, meeting eyes with Johnny and Mark. The blank tint of the windows kept the outside from seeing the gun passed to him by the young lad int he passenger seat, Taeyong checking the clip once over.

“How’d it go?” Johnny questioned cheekily.

“You know the rules,” Taeyong glowered. “Don’t touch my girlfriend and protect her from this shit.”

“What’s going to happen when she finds out?” Mark asked.

“Don’t worry about that. That’s my problem,” Taeyong hummed, tucking the gun into the waistband of his jeans. “Focus on this deal for now. I can’t have you distracted if this goes south.”

“Yes sir,” both men spoke, the car going quiet as they advanced towards an abandoned warehouse where their deal was to take place.

One year.

One year since you started dating the love of your life. Six months in, you had been the one to say it first.

“I love you, Lee Taeyong.”

He didn’t hesitate to repeat the phrase multiple times while placing kiss after kiss to every inch of your face and neck before curling into you and cuddling you tightly. You didn’t regret saying it, especially after he responded the way he did, loving you just as much as you loved him. You knew you wanted to spend your life with this man; you knew he held your heart in the palm of his hand. But you were happier than you had ever been. This was the highest point in your life.

You started spending more time around Taeyong’s massive penthouse on your days off or after work, your routine with Taeyong nothing different than before. Everything just seemed to get better - especially as his friends started to migrate into your life as well. There were twenty boys living in the building that he worked with, but he had a group of eight others that were closest to the man and popped up most often.

You had met Johnny before when he was your chauffeur for your date, so getting to know the tall American was different. He loved photography and fashion, sometimes spending his time with you on your days off by having mini fashion shows in Taeyong’s penthouse. Taeyong always had a good laugh when he walked in on your faux walking down a runway, planting himself on the couch to watch and take his own pictures.

Taeil was the oldest of the bunch, a quiet man that enjoyed singing with his friends Doyoung and Jungwoo. He was famous in the group for his dad jokes, becoming the butt of many jokes. He also had an equally bad alcohol tolerance to your boyfriend.

Doyoung was a snarky man that loved to pick on Taeyong, but you could tell he cared about him. He had rabbit-like qualities that you found adorable. When Taeyong was busy when you were around, Doyoung would make you delicious meals that left you in a food coma on the couch until Taeyong would return.

Jungwoo was a mischievous little brat, but you always found him to be funny. He whined childishly for attention and played around with the others. He craved long hugs that made Taeyong yell at him because he was taking his girlfriend from him.

Jaehyun was your workout buddy. The fittest of the bunch, the man with deep dimples had offered to exercise with you when you complained you had gotten lazy in Taeyong’s house. You could never keep up with him or Johnny, who often joined you both in the gym, but having someone there to push you was worth it.

Yuta had the most infectious smile. He would always play games with you and make you smile. But the thing you did most often was watch soccer together. The man loved the sport, having grown up playing in Japan, so watching games together was always exciting. He got so captivated by them that he wouldn’t realize he was jumping around wildly.

Haechan was a brat, but he was skilled in dances. He had this innate ability to watch a dance on tv and perform it. His time would be split between the main group of nine and the younger boys in the building. Even with his evil personality, you loved the young boy, happily failing by his side when you would dance together.

Mark was probably your favorite. He was the one around most often, caring for you when Taeyong was working. He had quickly grown to be like a little brother that supported you through everything. He told you about his life in Canada while you told him about your life in Korea, sharing the littlest things with each other. He would play the guitar for you in his spare time, often lulling you to sleep with the beautiful melodies.

You didn’t expect to meet such a rowdy bunch, but they made your relationship with Taeyong even sweeter. And though you still often had dates with Taeyong, you also spent a lot of time with the group on outings. Going out for meals or going around the city was more special with your hand clamped in Taeyong’s and the bundle of males running around you.

As much as you have enjoyed your one year anniversary alone with Taeyong on a romantic date, eating an expensive dinner that you knew Taeyong would insist you have and finishing the night together tangled in the sheets, you were glad you went with the current idea. When the group found out that it was your anniversary, they insisted on taking you both out for a good night.

What started with a fun meal of barbeque that they paid for completely, not a single cent paid by you or Taeyong, turned into a drunken mess at a nightclub. Hesitant at first, you barely took a shot or two of soju with the others. Taeyong was wrecked just from those couple shots, beginning to drink more and more. Watching him enjoy himself let you relax, beginning to down your own drinks.

The night slowly became a blur of flashing lights and loud music, but you knew Taeyong was always by your side. Either his hand was in yours or resting somewhere on your body - the small of your back, wrapped around your waist and hugging you to his side, and resting on your thigh as you sat at a booth, drinking and playing games together.

You danced together, your body rolling against his. He was obviously more skilled than you were, but even in his shrunken state, he led you confidently and naturally, grinding against you eagerly. Your back pressed against his chest as his hands sat on your hips, fingers splayed against bare skin from where you shirt rode up. When you faced him, you arms wrapped around his neck, fingers tangling in his fluffy red threads.

Hot kisses were left on your mouth, your lips left puffy and swollen from the multiple attacks he left on you. You were already warm from the club and the plethora of people around you, but your body was searing against his. Each taunting kiss he gave you, lips parted and tongue slipping into your mouth, left you craving more. Your hands wandering against his form, trailing up and down his arms, let him panting, the man tugging his lip between his teeth.

“We should get out of here…”

That’s all he had to mutter once for you to find yourself escaping the heat of the club and back in Taeyong’s penthouse. It was past midnight when you stumbled through the door together, your lips latched together in a sloppy kiss. Your arms were wrapped weakly around him, trying to kick off your shoes as you pushed into the doorway. Taeyong kicked the door shut with his foot, struggling to lock it and discord his sneakers before entering the house. He couldn’t focus with your lips connected to his, your tongues swirling together eagerly between your cheeks.

He picked you up with easy, a squeal of shock lost to his throat. His steps were uneven as he moved forward, supporting you with one hand on your ass, the other following the wall to guide him through the darkness. The kiss broke when he tripped over the rug and bumped into a table, a bruise bound to form on his knee. Low curses left his lips, the man rushing into the bedroom.

The door slammed shut behind you, Taeyong turning to trap you against the sealed entryway. His lips found home once more on your own, igniting another fiery kiss between you. You happily returned it, tasting the vast amounts of alcohol that lingered on his taste buds. A subtle swipe of his tongue against your lips told you to part them and let him inside, which you willingly complied. The taste of the bitter liquid from the evening was heavy on his tongue as it roamed your cheeks.

Your moans were muffled, mind foggy in the midst of the kiss. It didn’t occur to you that his hands were traveling up your sides, pushing at the bottom of your shirt until it was resting underneath your breasts. The skim of the pads of his thumbs against your sides and ribs sent shivers up your spine, more mewls of delight lost to the sensual lip lock. Taeyong pushed harder against your, his hips rutting against your clothed core, both sets of jeans blocking what you truly desired in that moment. His head tilted to deepen the kiss, letting out a groan of his own.

The first time you separated, chests heaving for precious amounts of air, he uttered two short words.

“May I?”

You knew what he wanted, even in the blur of words that met your ears. You nodded at him, arching off the door long enough for him to rid you of your top, the cotton fabric strewn across the floor carelessly. Lips back to yours for a single second before disappearing south, searing hot kisses leaving a wet trail along your neck and clavicle. Your swollen lips parted with delicious moans for him to savor, trembling fingers lacing through his locks on the back of his head.

His teeth toyed with the strap on your left shoulder first, playfully nipping at your skin in his futile attempts to drag the strap down your arm. Your mewls of delight mixed with short giggles before taking the opportunity to rid yourself of the pesky garment. Taeyong pouted without a doubt - he always hated when you did it for him - but didn’t bother to argue.

His lips found home on your bare chest, lips wrapping around the pert nipple on your right breast. A content sigh left your mouth, back arching into his touch. Your hands twisted through his red strands, giving him a tug whenever he found a sensitive spot on your chest. You tried to watch him through the haze, but your eyes were blurring too much.

Was it the alcohol still present, slowly wearing off? Or, was it the pleasure of him suckling at your nipples, giving them short tugs with his teeth, and pulling away with short pops that rang in your ears?

You didn’t know, nor did you care. You were in heaven.

Taeyong spent several long minutes pleasuring your chest, red marks lingering on the mounds and between them when he swaps between them on occasion. With each kiss he left, and each bite he left, his hands holding you up against the wall grabbed at your backside. His hips ground against yours, becoming more frequent and harder against your covered core. The bulge in his tight jeans was obvious, growing more prevelant by the second. His cock was stiff, and his actions just solidified what he wanted.

Placing you on unsteady legs, his nimble fingers made quick work of your pants, the man kneeling long enough to tug them down your legs. Your panties came with, leaving you naked before his eyes. The red head toppled slightly, nearly falling on his ass in his tipsy state. A mixture of the alcohol and his awe at your body left him speechless and wobbly, slowly standing while working at his own jeans.

Your hands were quick to replace his, struggling to undo the button of his dark skinny jeans. Taeyong had to place a hand on the wall to keep himself upright, his other hand massaging his face a few times before pushing his hair back. Low groans and swears escaped, staring down at you when you grew frustrated and collapsed to your knees, stumbling just as he had.

“Dammit,” you growled, tugging angrily at the jeans when they wouldn’t unbutton. Taeyong chuckled deeply.

“Need a hand?”

“No. Fuck you. I can do it myself.”

The man let out a hefty chortle at your frustration, repaying you for what you did earlier. His fingers made quick work of his own jeans, the button unsnapping and zipper slowly lowered before your eyes. With a short huff, you tugged the dark denim down his legs, leaving them around his ankles so you could rub at his covered cock.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned loudly. The hand he had on the wall slowly curled into a fist, pounding against the wall lightly. You smirked up at him, biting at your lip. He rarely cursed, but when he did, you knew he meant business. “Don’t tease me.”

You clicked your tongue at him as you tugged his boxers down, letting him spring free. The fabric was left to pool at his feet, you focus turning to the large cock staring straight at your face. It twitched with anticipation, the tip red, swollen and oozing precum. It pulsed as your fingers grazed along the shaft. The sight made your mouth water, tongue tracing your lips slowly.

Taeyong’s fist pounded harder to the wall, a loud grunt exhaled when he felt your lips on the tip just before taking the entire length between your cheeks. He struggled to focus, blinking repeatedly to clear his vision to watch you bobbing your head along his cock. Your hand gripped the base firmly, pumping it in time with your bobs. Your tongue trailed along the underside of his shaft as you moved, the tip traveling along the pulsing vein that protruded out. Your other hand toyed with his balls, juggling them between your fingers and giving them light squeezes.

“Shit,” he cursed again, earning a small smile from you. Taeyong leaned forward, placing his head against the wall, heavier pants starting to leave his lips. He could barely form words with the overwhelming ecstasy of your mouth around his cock. “Please, baby. Give me more.”

You kept your motion steady, not giving into his plea entirely. You wanted to savor the taste of his salty sweetness that seeped onto your tongue, overriding the bitter drink from the early evening. Taeyong didn’t seem pleased; his hand gripped at the hair on the back of your head, his hips jutting forward suddenly. He halted when you gagged once, knowing his abrasive stunt was a bit much.

When you were situated, stilling your movements but keeping his cock resting on your tongue, he thrust forward against. He leveraged the hold he had on your hair to push you forward, your nose meeting his pelvis. His cock met the back of your throat repeatedly as his timed thrusts met your forced head bobs, a slobbering wet gurgle of him fucking your mouth filling the air. Taeyong moaned loudly, unable to keep his voice down - not that he needed to.

He didn’t stop until he was groaning loudly, his wild thrusts that had grown sloppy ceasing and he was spilling his salty seed down your throat, the white ribbons of cum filling your cheeks and swallowed happily. He pulled out at the end, hand wrapping around the base and giving it a few final pumps. The last few shots landed on your face and chest, your tongue extended to try and capture them. You let out a hearty giggle, tracing the cum along your face and chest with a finger.

Taeyong huffed when he watched you suck the finger clean. The man, fed up of waiting, hoisted you up by the hand before lifting you bridal and turning towards the bed. With the fabric still bundled around his ankles, he stumbled forward, kicking anxiously at them to discard.

You were thrown careless on the bed with a light yelp and laugh, Taeyong pouncing on top of your bare form. His lips instantly met yours, furious open mouth kisses shared. Your bodies were grinding against each other rapidly, hands eagerly tracing each other’s forms. Your legs twisted together, feet playfully nuzzling against one another. Your arms looped around Taeyong’s neck, fingers curling through his tangled red hair.

Taeyong pulled away, glancing between your forms long enough to align himself with your core, sheathing himself inside you with one quick thrust. Your eyes closed, moaning and groaning from his size. He wasn’t the largest man out there, but it never ceased to amaze you whenever you were intimate how well he could fill your pussy up. The man stilled, peppering your face with kisses and uttering sweet nothings until you gave him the signature tap on the shoulder to let him know he could continue.

His thursts always started slow, pulling back until he was about to leave you empty and then pushing back in completely. The pace would be slow and steady, soft moans leaving you both. But as time went on, he would gain momentum, hips starting to snap into yours hastily until he was slamming into you, pressing you into the mattress. The sound of clapping skin grew louder, the moans became screams of his name, and your body trembled under his.

You were quick to orgasm, feeling his thick cock sliding in and out of your tight core quickly, pounding at you quickly. The tip pushed against your g-spot every time he pushed into you, earning himself a breathy pant from below him. Your walls would hug around him, making it harder for him to concentrate on his thrusts. It grew worse when he felt you shudder, back arching and toes curling. Your pussy squeezed him, spilling around his thick shaft and soaking it completely.

Taeyong stopped moving, not wanting to fill you up so soon, watching your twitching form relax after a minute. Leaning back on his knees between your legs, he pulled himself out, satisfied at how wet his shaft was. HIs fingers toyed with your sensitive entrance for a moment, hearing you groan and watching you twist in subtle discomfort.

He placed a longing kiss on your lips before turning you on your side, laying behind you. His fingers ran along your sides soothingly, drawing different shapes on your stomach and chest. He carefully draped your leg back over his hips, jutting his forward to slide himself between your pussy lips. A low mewl escaped, turning your head back to him to share a loving kiss just as he pushed into you once more.

His hand gripped at your breast, lips pressed to your shoulder. His thrusts picked up steadily, pushing himself deeply into you from behind. The new angle allowed him to hit deeper inside you, his already moist length sliding with ease between your tight walls. He collided with your backside with each thrust, groaning happily with every smack he heard. The bed squeaked with his quick thrusts, jostling with the movements of your bodies.

Despite his hard and fast repetition of his cock pushing into you, his lips placed kisses to your ear. You could hear his pants and low grunts in the buzz of your ecstasy, enjoying the way he felt thrusting into you furiously. Every slam into you made your head spin, the feeling of his length sliding against your walls causing your heart to beat faster. The way his lips felt against the side of your head at the same time that his cock pushed deeping to and pressed against the most sensitive spot to make you quiver was causing your stomach to burn.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he murmured into your ear softly, nipping at your earlobe. When you moaned in response, his lips curled upwards. His hand grasped tighter to your breast, burrowing his face into you. “Fuck, I love you so much.”

“I-I love…” you started, panting quickly.

Taeyong knew what you wanted to say. It was clear. He also knew that you were close again - because so was he. His thrusts were growing sloppy and he could feel your walls tightening sporadically around him. You were both chasing the final high of the night as exhaustion was becoming apparent.

He pulled out, leaving you whining and empty. It wasn’t for long because he pushed you once more on to your back, sliding into you quickly and roughly. Every time, Taeyong had a thing for finishing in a way where he could see your face. He loved to watch you ascend into heaven, feeling blissful from sex. He leaned on his knees between your legs, one hand pushing your leg back and resting on the back of your thigh so your foot rested on his shoulder, and the other pushing your other leg out to spread you wide for him. His eyes were cast onto you body, swapping between your breasts bouncing with his quick snaps, to your heavenly face, swollen lips parted with moans.

“Come on,” he whispered, feeling the sweat running down his brow. “Cum for me, baby,” he pleaded. Rule number one with Taeyong: he always wanted to make sure you were pleased before he was. He always made sure to make you cum before him, and if he didn’t he would work extra hard to please you. It wasn’t uncommon for him to beg for you to snap under him.

“Tae…”

“I know baby,” he let out, heaving for air. “Come on. We’re almost there. Just let it go for me.”

“I love you…”

He grit his teeth and dove in for one last kiss, both of you breaking at the same time. Your bodies trembled together, your juices spilling around his length and his thick seed filling your core completely. Your inner walls were painted white by the strings he spewed, letting them decorate your core in warm stickiness. You moaned into his kiss, too weak to hug him close.

You were limp when he pulled out, half-lidded eyes watching the satisfied man. His fingers danced along your core, spreading your pussy lips to watch your combined juices trying to escape. One slick finger carefully pushed the juices back in, causing you to shutter and mewl his name. Content with the pleasure, he collapsed beside you, two sweaty bodies sticking to his silk sheets. A thin blanket was dragged over your bodies, one of his arms draping across your stomach. You curled into his side, letting out a long breath.

“I love you so much,” you whispered again. Taeyong didn’t reply, making you glance up at him. “Taeyong?”

“Move in with me,” he whispered. you almost felt like you didn’t hear him right. You blinked a few times before sitting up slowly, groaning in pain. You hugged the blanket to your chest, turning to the man.

“What?”

“Move in with me,” he repeated, louder this time. “You’re already here all the time, and you shouldn’t have to be paying for the dingy apartment. I love you so much, baby, and I want you to live with me.”

The room grew quiet, the air thick. You repeated the offer in your mind. The alcohol had worn off at this point, so there was little chance that he wasn’t thinking straight. Taeyong stared at you silently as you thought, biting at his lip. Only when you carefully took his hand in yours and placed them laced together in your lap did he let out the breath he had been holding.

“I will,” you mumbled before turning to him and kissing him passionately. “I will, Taeyong. I love you so much. I will move in with you.”

“Wonderful,” he whispered, kissing you once more. “You just made a man very happy today.”

“Well, you always make me happy,” you told him back.

“Yeah. I always will…”

You awoke to the sunlight streaming through a small crack in the curtains, the light hitting your face directly. A low groan left your lips as you turned over, finding the bed cold and empty beside you. Since moving in with Taeyong, you had become accustomed to the morning he was gone when you woke up. He had work to do, and he hated to disturb you when he left.

When your eyes fell on a small box on your side tab and a folded note, you smiled. Carefully sitting up, blanket to your chest, you grabbed the two items, looking at the note first. It was short:

A beautiful present for a beautiful woman. I will be home for dinner, so I will see you then. I love you. Have a wonderful day babe.

You shook your head, looking into the box. It was a gorgeous pair of diamond earrings that would dangle and shine from your lobes. You shook your head, letting out a short laugh.

“That man,” you scowled playfully. “He just doesn’t know when to quit.”

He always bought you presents, especially after you moved in months ago. They were always expensive, and you would yell at him for wasting so much on you. He said it wasn’t an issue and he wanted to spoil you. It left you wondering how much money he had. You never fought him hard about it; the gesture was always sweet and made you smile because he thought of you so much.

Climbing out of bed, you grabbed an outfit from the closet, showering and dressing quickly. It was the early afternoon when you stepped out of the penthouse, leaving the large building with a pep in your step. You walked down the road to a small market store on the corner, a place you would frequent when you had small cravings or needed mild groceries. With the thought of Taeyong returning in time for dinner, you wanted to return his generous gift with a homemade meal of his favorite items - complete with a chocolate cake.

The only issue was you were low on groceries. The last of your groceries went to a large group dinner a few nights prior, the pair of you opting for take out after that. You figured you would only get a few groceries for the time being until Johnny could take you down for a full grocery run.

The door jingled when you walked in, the street oddly empty. You paid no attention to the lack of people around, waving at the store owner who sat at the register behind the counter. You grabbed the small reusable bag and disappeared down the aisles, humming to yourself as you searched for what you needed.

“Let’s see. If I make kalguktsu, I will need more noodles and vegetables. We have stock still, and I could pick up some prawns for it too. Maybe grab some snacks and something for lunch. Maybe some kimbap…”

You talked to yourself as you placed the desired items in your bag. Making it to the last aisle for your snacks, your eyes ran over the items, searching for anything that sounded good. You kneeled to the floor to look at the lower shelves, placing the bag aside, when the door jingled again. Initially, you paid no mind to it, figuring another customer walked in.

Until you heard a gunshot.

You collapsed to the side in shock, watching the water canister in the corner get pierced, water leaking onto the ground and flooding it. You covered your mouth in shock, afraid to make a noise.

“Well, well, Dohyeon,” someone spoke, causing you to shake. “Is anyone else here?”

Your breathing stopped. you glanced towards the end of the aisle, afraid they would hear you or find you. You could feel your hands shaking, tears starting to leak from your eyes. With bated breath, you awaited the owner’s response.

“No,” he responded confidently, no waiver in his voice. “It’s been slow today. But I guess I know why.”

“Yeah,” the person responded. “Come on in, boss. Coast is clear.”

The door jingled, two pairs of footsteps tapping against the floor. You waited to hear what they would have to say, but what you heard made your heart stop for reasons other than fear.

“You should have known I would find out.”

Through bleary eyes, you glanced up, finding a reflective mirror in the corner of the store. In front of the counter stood four men - four men you knew too well. Johnny and Jaehyun held guns at the owner - Dohyeon - while Mark stood behind the man with familiar red hair. You wanted to cry and sob, but you couldn’t. You were appalled to find Taeyong there, staring down Dohyeon with his own gun.

“You knew those drugs were mine. You were supposed to sell them for us. But no. You had to go and doublecross us and sell the stock to Stray Kids? What kind of profit did you make off that.”

Dohyeon was quiet.

“Yeah, you know I’m fucking pissed. You know better than to cross me. But you did anyway!” Another shot fired, making you jump as a counter behind Dohyeon collapsed. “Now, you’re lucky I’m willing to give you one last chance. I could easily kill you here and now, but you haven’t done us wrong until now.

“But, it won’t come free. I want you to hand over all of the cash you received from them, plus interest. And I expect the next time we give you something, you make sure to stay selling for us. Your cut will be reduced until you are back in good faith, but it’s better than being dead, right?”

“Yes, sir,” Dohyeon whispered bitterly.

“You don’t sound very grateful,” Taeyong growled. “Would you prefer I just shoot you here and now? I can make that happen.”

“No, sir.”

“Good.” Mark threw a bag on the counter. “Put the money in the bag. All of it.”

You watched Dohyeon load the bag with money from under the counter, as well at the money from the register to satisfy Taeyong’s demands. The bag was zipped shut, Mark taking it from Dohyeon’s grasp. The owner sat back down, watching the four men.

“Think of this as a warning,” Taeyong sneered. “You agreed to this. You work for me and if I find out you are pulling some shady shit again, I will have you killed in the most gruesome way possible. No one fucks with NCT. Am I clear?”

“Yes…”

“I say am I clear?!”

“Yes sir!”

“Good. And if anyone asks what happened here, we were never here. Some kids vandalized you, or something of the sort. You’re a smart man. That’s obvious by trying to sell to Stray Kids, but not smart enough if you didn’t think you’d be caught.”

Taeyong made his way to the door, Mark in tow. Johnny and Jaehyun followed behind them both, never lowering the guns. Taeyong sent one last glance at the man behind the counter.

“Pleasure doing business as always.”

When the door closed and the jingling stopped, you dropped your hand, feeling your entire body trembling. After a minute passed, and you were sure they had left, you stood on shaky legs, grabbing the bag from the ground. You stumbled out of the aisle, slipping in the pool of water on your way to the door. Dohyeon said nothing as he watched you slap money onto the counter and rush out the door. You ran down the street with bag in hand, disappearing into the sudden sea of people that flooded the previously vacant area.

Sitting at home awaiting his return was nerve wracking. The second you got home, you threw yourself into another shower, collapsing to the floor and wailing loudly with sobs. The remainder of the afternoon was spent replaying what happened, and pondering how to confront Taeyong about what you had witnessed. You watched the time tick on, curling into yourself with a blanket on the couch.

Taeyong walked through the door with a smile, dropping his keys on the table by the door, kicking off his shoes and stripping off his red jacket. “Baby, I’m home,” he called happily, making his way into the living room. He expected to find you cooking or watching tv, but let his smile fade when he noticed the silence and you curled up on the couch staring at nothing. “Babe?”

You didn’t respond, worrying the red-haired man. He rushed forward, taking a seat at your feet. His hand ran along your blanket covered leg, pausing when he felt you flinch. Taeyong frowned, tilting his head at you. “Y/N, what’s going on? Are you ok?”

“I saw you…”

“What?” he questioned. “What are you talking about?”

You finally looked up at him. He could immediately tell you had been crying from your red and swollen eyes. “Tell me honestly - what is your job?”

“I…” he started, but stopped, turning away.

“I saw you at the little corner store you took me too and we always shop at.”

He stayed silent.

“Taeyong, I want the truth.”

“I think you already figured it out,” he rasped bitterly before sighing. “If you want out now, I won’t blame you. I won’t hold it against you. And I will make sure that no one comes after you for it as long as you remain quiet about what you know.

“But I… I have lied to you many times. And I’m not proud of that. I honestly should have never dragged you into this, but I couldn’t help myself. I have lied about many things, but I have never lied about my feelings for you. I love you with all my heart, Y/N, and I will do anything to keep you safe.

“But I understand that I have made mistakes by keeping this from you. I never wanted you to be involved, but I should have seen this coming one day. And I’m sorry.”

His gaze was on the floor as he talked, but shot up when your cold hand took his, lacing your fingers together. He stared at you, nervously holding his breath. “I don’t like that you lied about this. That you kept this from me for so long.”

“I know…”

“But, I’m also in too deep,” you murmured. Taeyong gave your hand a squeeze. “I fell in love with you the day I met you and I’ve only gotten deeper since then. I… I don’t want to leave you. I love you too much to leave you.”

“You know I live a dangerous life, right?”

“Yeah, I figured that out,” you told him. “But, we are in this together. I will support you and help you where I can. We’ll just be partners in crime.”

Taeyong bit his lip, running a hand through his red hair until the strands were tousled and sticking up in random directions. “Are you sure you want to get involved in this? I don’t want you to feel pressured to join this lifestyle because of me.”

“I’m sure,” came your meek voice. The man could tell you were scared of the answer, of the path you were agreeing to, but the solid grip on his hand and the fire behind your blown orbs gave him your resolve. “I want to stay by your side. I will help you no matter what.”

“Partners in crime, eh?” he chuckled weakly, smiling weakly at your own giggle in return.

“Yeah. Partners in crime. If you go down, I go down with you. I’m not leaving your side in this. I know I may not seem like the best candidate for this, but I am a quick learner for whatever you need. Train me for whatever you think you need me for.

“But going forward, you can’t keep things like this from me. If you want to make this work - to make us work - we need to have this trust. If you are as serious about us as you say you are, and I know you are because I have felt your love and passion, then we need to be open. Which means no lies, no deceit, and most of all, standing by each other’s decisions. We are partners in life, in death, and now, in crime I guess.”

You paused briefly to let out a breath, watching the man nod at your words. “I won’t deny that I am scared of what I am agreeing to, but I will do what I have to because I want to be with you. Until death do us part.”

Taeyong didn’t say anything. The leader silently crawled onto the couch with you, your body shifting slightly so he could nestle himself between you and the back cushions. His head rested on your breast, one arm looped loosely around your waist. Your hand ran through his ruffled locks, feeling his tense form starting to relax at the soothing motion. You couldn’t see his face, but you knew he was scared too - not for the work he did, but for your inevitable involvement.

“I love you. So much…”

His voice was low and muffled, but his words were clear.

“I love you too…”

It made you wonder how a man as soft as the one curled into your side was when you were alone could be so ruthless. You heard him that day threaten the owner of the store, and the thought alone still sent shivers up your spine. But it was just another thing you were going to accept about the mysterious man.

You were serious when you said to death do you part. You were determined to stand by his side in every situation. He loved you and you loved him. Even though he was a dangerous man, you knew you couldn’t escape.

He had your heart in his hand after all.

Hours later, long after the sun had set and the clock struck midnight, you sat on the same couch, listening to Taeyong pace around behind you. After your confrontation upon his return home, you prepared dinner and had an emotional discussion about everything. He revealed everything to you in that time, laying his life on the table before you.

He led a small mafia group called NCT. They were one group under a larger organization, and their group controlled the area you lived in. There were twenty-one boys in their unit, breaking into smaller units to manage their territory. Taeyong mentioned there were rival groups that tended to do business in their area, but for the most part, they didn’t clash too much.

Taeyong, though he led all of the boys in the building, worked mostly with the eight other boys you had spent so much of your time with. The other two groups, Dream and WayV, had members who lead them when Taeyong couldn’t. The building they lived in was owned by their organization.

And as he spilled everything, including his background and how he got involved coming out of high school, everything seemed to click more given everything you had been through with him since you met. Yet, it didn’t change your feelings for him. It just solidified his trust in you and his desire to have you in his life.

Now ame the hard part.

“What’s going on boss?” a loud voice chimed as the front door opened widely, eight chipper boys filing through the entryway quickly, led by Mark. “Did something happen with that weapons… call…”

Mark’s voice faded away when the group saw you sitting on the couch and their leader anxiously walking back and forth, his thumb nail in his mouth as he nibbled at it. All of the boys gaped at the sight, unprepared for your presence. Mark seemed the most uncomfortable, seeing as he was about to talk business, assuming that was what they were being called for given the cryptic message they had received that simply said “we have something to discuss. It’s important.”

“Y/N…” Mark stuttered out, panic laced in his voice. “I didn’t know you were here…”

“She lives here,” Yuta pointed out lowly, only to receive a jab in his side from Mark’s elbow.

“Well, just ignore whatever I was saying! It wa a joke really-”

“It’s fine,” Taeyong said, cutting the young boy off. He stopped pacing to face the group, still biting at his nail. “She knows.”

The boys stared at their leader for a minute before bursting into a loud mixture of questions and concerns. Taeyong stared blankly at them until he got fed up with their loud noise, motioning them to silence. The room grew quiet in an instant, all eight of the boys finding places to eat to listen to what Taeyong had to say.

“She saw us earlier today when we went to handle Dohyeon. She knows who we are and what we do. We’ve already talked about it,” Taeyong muttered.

You stayed silent, waiting for someone to react. But the last thing you expected was Jaehyun, your trusted workout buddy, to stand from his seat across from you and point a gun at your forehead. His eyes narrowed on your form, your stare on him unwavering. Deep inside, you were quaking with fear. You barely registered the remaining boys behind him yelling at him to stand down.

The leader wasn’t having this action. Taeyong was swift to react himself, grabbing a gun he kept in a drawer near the couch and aiming it at Jaehyun. Taeyong’s glare at his friend was sharp, eyes darker than normal.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he snarled, gritting his teeth to keep from snapping completely. “Stand down, Jae.”

“She knows, Taeyong,” Jaehyun retorted, never moving his gaze to his leader. “What’s to stop her from spilling this to the cops? What’s to stop her from leaving when we least expect it and turning us in? We aren’t the good guys here, and now your little girlfriend knows our secret. I knew this wasn’t a good idea when you started bringing her here. It was only a matter of time. So now, we need to make sure she isn’t going to turn.”

“Jaehyun-”

“I don’t plan to sell you out,” you spoke up, cutting off Taeyong. “If I did, I wouldn’t have come back here and confronted Taeyong about this.”

“So? That means nothing. You could be gathering evidence to bring to the cops-”

“I love Taeyong,” you cut in. “I wouldn’t do that to him, and I wouldn’t do that to you guys. You guys are my friends. We have spent so much time together and I love you guys to death.”

“How can I trust you?” Jaehyun snapped.

“You’ll just have to,” you told him.

“Put the gun down, Jae,” Taeyong told him, watching the man slowly lower the weapon and return to his seat. His own gun was placed aside, placing his hands on your shoulders instead. “We’ve talked about this all night. It hasn’t been easy. But you guys know I love Y/N to death. I don’t want to lose her. And her saying she is willing to accept this part of me, this part of us, means everything to me. I don’t want to lose her.

“So, after talking about it, I’ve agreed to let her join us. She said she wants to help us. But, we wanted to get your guys’ approval for her to join as well. We are a team and I can’t decide this on my own.”

You placed a hand on his that was on your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I know you guys may be concerned, but I promise you that I am here to help. I don’t want to sell anyone out or see anyone get hurt. I just want to be with Taeyong and all of you.” You paused, feeling Taeyong lean down to kiss the top of your head. “Taeyong and I are partners. I love him with all my heart and I will stand by his side until death do us part. Now, we’ll just be partners in crime too.”

The room grew quiet again, your stomach bubbling with nerves. You weren’t sure what their response would be, or what would happen if they decided you didn’t belong. You feared you would be forced to leave the man you loved because of his occupation.

“So, till death do you part? Does that mean you guys are going to get married finally?” Jungwoo chimed happily, eyes sparkling. “I’ve been waiting for Taeyong to propose for so long. Can I be the flower boy?”

“You’re not even the youngest!” Haechan growled, Jungwoo giving him a smug smile.

“But I’m cuter!”

“Hey, no fighting!” Doyoung scolded the two boys. “They didn’t say anything about marriage yet!”

“We all know it’s coming,” Yuta chuckled, watching your cheeks instantly flush a bright red. You turned to Taeyong, flustered. Taeyong shrugged with an obvious smile.

“They aren’t wrong. One day, you will be mine. But, I plan to propose to you properly.”

“Taeyong!” you screamed, swatting at him. Everyone laughed, Jaehyun excluded. As everyone quieted down, Taeyong spoke back up.

“By a show of hands, how many of you are in favor or letting Y/N join? Before you decide, please know that we will need to train her in what we do.” His eyes turned to Jaehyun for a moment before continuing. “On a count of three. One… two… three…”

Four hands shot up instantly - Mark, Jungwoo, Haechan and Yuta. three hands were slow to follow - Taeil, Doyoung and Johnny. Everyone turned to Jaehyun, who had yet to decide. The man stared deeply at you, mouth in a tight line.

“If she joins, I am in charge of training,” his cold voice cut in. “I don’t trust her in this situation and if things turn south, I will not hesitate to end this deal.”

You shivered at his words, but glanced up at Taeyong, giving him a nod. Taeyong sighed.

“Fine, but just know that if you turn around and kill her, I will kill you.”

“Deal,” Jaehyun said before raising his hand.

Taeyong smiled slightly before nodding. “That’s it. With everyone’s consent,” he hummed, moving to sit beside you. He kissed your cheek swiftly, your face heating. “Welcome to NCT, Y/N.”

You smiled, bowing to the boys. “Thank you for having me.”

“This is going to be interesting,” Mark hummed, everyone agreeing.

You knew he wasn’t wrong.

If you ever thought you’d be good at something in life, it wasn’t your skill with fighting or with a gun. It wasn’t your natural ability to be intimidating on command. Maybe you thought you’d be good at sewing, or maybe drawing beautiful scenary on paper.

But no.

Under Jaehyun’s watchful eye, the glint from the darkness as he watched you punch at a dummy in the weight room before pushing it back completely despite being twice your size, or when your eyes narrowed on a target, the sudden jolt of the gun in your hands leading to a bulls eyes through the forehead of your paper victim, you had managed to fit right now with the mafia boys you had come to love.

Jaehyun, naturally, still had minor suspicions of you, even after months of one-on-one training to get you in tip top shape to be a member. But, the day you managed to take him down in a spar, leaving you giddy with delight before hopping around the room ecstatically, he started to lay off on his threats to end you so willingly. When you hadn’t spilled the truth to anyone, even when your former boss asked why you were quitting so suddenly, he felt a bit more at ease. When you took training seriously, showing up early and staying extra late to master what he was trying to teach, pushing through pain to continue, he would smile just a bit at your determination.

Taeyong couldn’t have been more proud. He had told you that on many occasions. When he would pop in to assess your progress, he never found a second to be unimpressed. You had grown strong in your time with Jaehyun, making you a force to be reckoned with.

And he couldn’t lie when he said it wasn’t attractive.

There were the days when he would join in on your hand-to-hand training, after Jaehyun was willing to allow his boss to intervene. There were days he would be in the gun range on the ground floor, hidden deep in the back in a soundproof room, where we would watch you fire shot after shot without missing your mark, sometimes joining for a small competition. He never lost, but you didn’t make it easy when he would get distracted by your beauty.

In those days, Jaehyun would dismiss himself early, trusting his boss and friend in case something were to happen. And he was right - in a sense. Those were the days you found yourself getting frisky with your lover, moaning loudly while he thrust into your wet core. He’d have you pressed against a mat in the training room, or sitting atop the table in the gun range where you’d place your unused weapons, pounding you like an animal in heat, leaving searing hot kisses along your face and throat. You’d have to clean up afterwards, but it was worth it to be with Taeyong in that way; night time was never the best for intimacy when you were both exhausted.

Part of you was glad that no one ever walked in when you had those moments, but part of you was also convinced that Jaehyun knew what would happen when you were left alone together, and he would warn the others not to disturb you.

He was cold, but you knew he meant well.

When you awoke one morning nearly six months into your newfound profession, you found Taeyong dressed in a black turtleneck and tan trench coat, loose blue jeans hugging his slim waist, and his bright red locks slicked back the way he did when he meant business, you knew he was on a job that day.

“I want to join,” you meekly voiced, catching him off guard. The man whipped around to face you, adjusting his necklaces.

“You’re worn out, baby. And this is a pretty big job today. I don’t want you to get involved,” he voiced, biting at his lower lip. “This jewelry store owner that we leant money to so he could start up his business hasn’t paid, but he’s not a pushover. I don’t want you there in case things turn ugly.”

“I’ll be fine, Yong,” you hushed him, slinging yourself from the bed and rushing to the closet. Taeyong pouted, following after you.

“Babe-”

“No, don’t start,” you huffed at him. “You’ve only sent me on small jobs. I’m ready for something more, Taeyong.”

“I know, but-”

“But nothing!” you yelled. When Taeyong recoiled slightly, you sighed. “I’m sorry, Yongie. But I think I’m ready. I agreed to do this, to join you guys. So, let me do my job. I can help. And if things go sour, I can handle myself. I’m almost as good of a marksman as you. I can sometimes take down Jaehyun in a fight and he’s not an easy target. Yes, I’m tired because of yesterday’s training, but I’m not too tired to go help you with this. So, please-”

He cut you off with a kiss, his plump lips sealing yours. Your body instantly melted into his, wrapping your arms around his torso. His hands were clasped to your hips, tugging you closer. When he pulled away, finding your eyes closed and lips puckered, he chuckled.

“Shut up and get dressed. We don’t have all day.”

You were left alone, a silent cheer leaving your body before rushing to find an outfit. In a matter of minutes, you were bouncing into the living room, pulling on a loose blouse to go with the tight black jeans. Taeyong’s eyes followed after you from the breakfast bar, licking his lips.

“Do you plan to seduce someone?” he chirped cheekily. “Because I must say, it’s working.”

“Shut up,” you scowled at him, trying to hide the blush and smile on your face while trekking to the front door. You picked up a pair of sleek heels - ones that Taeyong gifted you one day - and turned to the red haired man, giving a sultry wink. “Now, shall we get going, big boy? We have a job to do.”

“I’m starting to regret agreeing to this. You’re gonna be the death of me before we ever get to the store.”

You giggled, pulling on your shoes and slipping out the door. Taeyong closely followed, taking your hand on the way to the elevator and to the garage. Johnny and Mark were waiting, as per usual for things like this, but the look of surprise on their faces when they saw you at their boss’ side made you chuckle. They didn’t question, Johnny simply opening the door so you and Taeyong could slide into the back. The tall man took his place at the wheel, Mark bouncing in the passenger seat as the car rolled from its spot onto the crowded street.

On the drive, you were briefed more in depth about what was going on. Mark, who was busy loading ammo into an arsenal of guns, passed two back, Taeyong tucking one into his jeans and handing you the other. Your heart pounded, looking down at the gun in your hand. It felt heavy in your grip. Despite the training, and the few things you had done for Taeyong, you had not actually used the weapon on someone. Would today be the day? You couldn’t say, but something in your gut said today wouldn’t be a good day. Bile rose in your throat at the worrisome feeling that lingered inside.

The street was near desolate when you arrived, the four of you sliding out of the car and approaching the jewelry store. No one was inside when you entered, a small bell ringing upon your entrance. The store owner, an older man named Youngjae, sitting behind the counter turned his head up with a smile that quickly vanished when he realized who had entered. Taeyong approached him confidently, you and Mark on his tail. The young blonde boy carried a large duffle bag in his left hand. Johnny guarded the door, flipping the sign to closed, securing the lock, and pulling down the sun visor so people couldn’t see what was happening so clearly.

“Time to pay up, Youngjae,” Taeyong spoke clearly, skipping the theatrics and jumping straight to the point. Youngjae’s gaze on the young mafia leader didn’t falter, his lips sealed in a tight line. “Are you deaf? You’re lucky we waited until now to come collect. You are nearly six months overdue on that loan for this shop. And from what I’ve heard, you’ve been doing rather well for yourself.”

Taeyong walked around the store, picking up some necklaces on display that had diamonds that shone brightly, trailing some fingers along the sapphire bracelets, and finally stopping at the engagement rings. He picked one up that had a square cut diamond in the center, two smaller ones adorning either side of it. He seemed to hum in approval, grabbing a velvet box from a stand and turning to Mark.

“Pack up some of the jewelry. We can use it as part of the payment.” Youngjae went to move when the younger male moved to collect from open stands, Taeyong quick to pull his weapon on the man. The older gentleman rose both hands, stilling in his movements, his stoic face unchanged. “Don’t even think about it.”

When Mark finished collecting what he deemed most valuable, he placed the bag in front of Youngjae. “Money,” the boy spoke.

When he didn’t move, Taeyong’s eyes narrowed. “You heard him,” the boss sneered angrily, narrowing his eyes. “All of the money in your safe deposit under the counter - I know it’s there because we installed it - and in your register. We’ll take that for now. If you continue to avoid payment, we will come back for the bank account. Sound fair?”

Youngjae continued to stay unmoving.

In a flash, you pulled out your own gun, clicking the safety off and aiming directly at his forehead. Your eyes were dark, making the older man visibly swallow. You were mildly thankful for your quick makeup job, making you somewhat more intimidating than your normal soft exterior.

“I won’t say it again,” you huffed. “Put the money in the bag, or I will shoot you. I don’t have time to play this game with you, so if you value your life, i suggest you do what you’ve been told, pay up when you need to, and move on with your life. You made a deal with the devil for this, so it’s time to pay up. What do you say, sweetie?”

Youngjae silently nodded, opening the register and pulling handfuls of bills out. He followed by kneeling down on the floor to unlock the safe deposit box, pulling out more wads of bills that were all placed into the duffle bag. When he was finished, he backed away slowly, hands still in the air.

“That’s what I thought,” you smiled eerily, nodding at Mark to grab the bag. Taeyong smirked at himself, waving at Johnny to unlock the door. Mark left first, Johnny following to bring the car forward. “Pleasure doing business sweetheart. Don’t let this happen again.”

Blowing in a quick kiss, you made your way to the door, heels clicking and hips swaying. Taeyong followed after you, keeping an eye on the owner before slipping out of the door. You both piled back into the car, the vehicle quick to disappear down the road.

But what you had both missed in that moment was Youngjae pressing the small panic button on the underside of his countertop. His eyes traveled to the small tv on the side of his counter that showed security footage of the car you had gotten into, the man narrowing on the license plate. When his phone rang, police on the other line, he picked up.

“I’ve just been robbed by the mafia. I have their plate number. It’s…”

The events went unbeknownst to you on your way back to the penthouse, Taeyong’s hand on your thigh. He placed a kiss to your ear, nipping it lightly. “That was hot,” he whispered. “I never thought I’d be so turned on hearing you talk like that.”

“Is that so?” you hummed, turning to face him. His eyes were dark and lustful, making you wiggle in your seat. His lips curled up, giving a toothy grin.

“Guys, take care of the goods,” he voiced when Johnny pulled into the garage. You were nearly yanked from the car before it could come to a complete stop, Taeyong lifting you into his arms and carrying you away. Mark and Johnny watched you squeal loudly, cringing when they saw Taeyong smack your backside on his way to the elevator.

“I didn’t need to see that,” Mark mumbled, Johnny nodding in agreement.

The moment you were pushed through the penthouse door, you were dropped onto the couch, shoes and blouse discarded immediately. Taeyong went to pounce on your, narrowly missing your escaping form into your shared bedroom. His huff of annoyance could be heard as you ran into the bathroom, pulling off your jeans and undergarments as you went. You disappeared into the glass shower before Taeyong could join you, starting the hot water up.

Taeyong’s eyes narrowed on your now wet form, watching you make faces at him through the glass. Your form was bare and dripping, and adding that to the memory of early, he was twitching already. The tan coat had been discarded on the bed before he joined you in the bathroom, but he didn’t hesitate to shed the turtleneck and jeans as well. The door was shut, and the glass door was opened, the man appearing at your side.

Immediately, you were tugged into a searing kiss, your body melting into his grasp under the waterfall of droplets that cascaded down your forms. He didn’t bother to ask for permission, his tongue bypassing your lips to attack the inside of your mouth. His hands gripped harder to your hips, veins running along up his hands and along his arms. His head tilted to the side to press perfectly against you, his mouth molding into yours without issue.

He pulled away for air, the steam from the shower making it harder to breath. Taeyong eyes were darker than normal, lust slated within the brown orbs. His tongue passed over his swollen lips, tracing yours slightly from the close proximity, earning a small whimper from within your throat.

“You were wonderful out there today,” he hummed lowly, nipping at your skin until he reached your ear. “I wasn’t expecting you to jump in the way you did. And you way you handled everything?” He paused for a moment, his breath hot on your ear. “It was pretty fucking hot.”

His words made you shiver, a mewl of delight piercing the sound of falling water. Taeyong pushed back his now wet hair, biting at his lip.

“I should reward you for it. How does that sound?”

You didn’t even respond. His face was simply tugged back to yours, eagerly kissing his plump lips once more. Your hands cupped his cheeks, taeyong pulling you taut against his body. His steps moved forward; yours moved back. You found yourself pressed against the chillingly cold wall of the shower, grimacing in the midst of the sloppy connection and arch your back away from the steely frost against your skin. It only pushed you further into the mafia boss’ needy body, feeling the heat that radiated from his skin.

His lips traveled from your ear, down your cheek and to your neck, attacking it with suckling kisses that left dark red blotches ebbed on your skin. Your hands on his cheeks slid up to his wet red locks, scratching at his scalp happily. Your body burned under his light touches, feeling his fingers ghosting along your arms to your chest, fondling your breasts for a moment before his lips replaced his diligent digits to suckle at the hardened nipples, finally sliding down between your soaked forms to to with your moist pussy.

The combination of his long fingers alternating between circling your clit and prodding at your core, and his gentle cites and kisses to your sensitive mounds sent your head reeling back, loud moans unceremoniously filling the air. Taeyong’s wicked grin against your chest was obvious almost as much as his increased actions, speeding up rubbing at your nub and popping his lips against your chest when he would tug at the buds.

“Yong,” you whimpered at him, squirming in his grasp. Your stomach churned with arousal and delight, the feeling of his fingers sliding into your tight core adding to the stars you were already feeling. The thrusts of the two digits made you body jolt, his hand quick and nimble. His thumb pressed to your clit as he moved, the man grinning at your face that was twisted with ecstasy. “Oh god, baby. Yes.”

“You like that?” he mused, kissing his way back up to your face. “Or, do you like my cock better?”

“At this point, anything,” you managed to get out, breath picking up the closer you got to your end. “I love you so much, Taeyong.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” he murmured, kissing you lightly. “I love you too, baby.”

He pulled his fingers back before you could finish, a whining groan escaping you. “You love me but you don’t let me finish? How dare you-”

In a flash, you were spun around, your eyes meeting the wall, barely able to make out the condensation dripping along the white porcelain. Your hands pressed to the surface to keep from falling over, fingers curling against it. The feeling stung against your palms, your hands cold in contrast to the wet wall heated from the water that rained around you. The heat of a body pressed against your back, searing kisses placed along your neck and shoulder, sent shivers along your spine. Strong but delicate hands roamed along your form, hips rutting against your backside slowly, before your right leg was hiked up swiftly.

“Are you ready for me?” he whispered seductively into your ears, lips tracing along the shell delicately.

“Yes, please,” you mewled at him, tilting your head back to rest on his shoulder. “Please, Taeyong.”

The low hum heard amongst the shower left your mind blank, anticipation flooding your veins. The slow rut of his hips was agonizing, and it wasn’t until he finally slid into you with one swift thrust that you felt full. A loud moan left your lips, your forehead placed against the wall happily. His thrusts began quick, wasting no time with slamming himself into your tight center and shoving your body further against the wall.

“Oh Tae,” you let out. The familiar curl of his grin against the side of your head was unmistakable at the sound you made.

“God, you always feel so good,” he rasped lowly, jutting himself harder than before and grinding against you harshly. The deep grunt he let out was thrilling to hear. “How did I get so lucky with you?”

“I think it’s me that got lucky,” you managed to say through plants, jolting when he resumed his rapid thrusts. “I’m so lucky:”

Taeyong seemed to speed up from your broken words, his cock pistoning in and out of you swiftly. His hips clapped against your ass, your leg hiked up bits at a time that made the angle deeper and his cock hit spots that made you shake. Every push into you, he found that one spot that had you moaning his name pathetically, chanting it like a mantra.

The water was beginning to go cold by the time you were convulsing from his thrusts, feeling his hand wrap around your throat the closer you got to your high. You begged him softly to let you cum, the man commanding you to wait until he was ready to fill you to the brim with his own milky essence. His lips trailed down your neck nipping at the skin with his teeth and giving a gentle squeeze that made your sight go white with a rainbow of stars for a moment.

“Yong, please.”

“Hold on, baby,” he kept saying, gasping the more he did. His thrusts were growing sloppy and forced the longer he went, his grip on your body hardening. With his forehead on your shoulder, he managed to utter a quick, “I’m almost there,” before grunting loudly.

THe last of his thrusts were the hardest and deepest, his cock lingering inside your wet pussy as he released. His milky seed spilled into you in bursts of warmth, painting your inner walls in the creamy white substance. His release sent your own into a fit of spasms, your walls tightening and convulsing around his length. They hugged at his thick shaft, coating it in your release while milking his own. Taeyong’s movements slowed to a gentle rhythm, letting your two forms meld into one against the wall and your cum mixing together deep inside of you.

Fingers pressed against the side of your face, tilting your head to the side. Your hazy gaze landed on the deep brown irises of Taeyong, a warm smile on his lips. Slowly, he leaned forward, remaining buried deep inside of you as he pressed a firm and loving kiss to your lips, conveying every ounce of love he felt into the connection. The frozen droplets of water did nothing to you against the heat of your bodies and the smoldering kiss you shared.

And as his lips dragged down against yours, you couldn’t help but to smile.

With your body dried and dressed in onee of Taeyong’s baggy, long-sleeved shirts and a pair of jeans, you walked into the living room, headed for the kitchen. As you opened the fridge to find something to make for dinner, two arms wrapped around your form, a giggle erupting from your lips. Taeyong snuggled into your neck, lifting you off your feet and kicking the fridge shut.

“Taeyong, no! I’m hungry!” you scowled through a laugh, flailing in the man’s arms. Your actions proved futile, Taeyong carrying you to the couch and falling on his back atop it, placing you on his lap.

“I know. But I wanted to spend some more time with you,” he pouted, the look adorable in your opinion. His fingers played with the hem of the shirt you wore, dipping under it to trace his fingers along your side. “Have I ever mentioned how beautiful you are?”

“Maybe once or twice,” you joked, leaning forward to place a butterfly kiss to his nose.

Taeyong sent you a shimmering smile, pulling you into a harder kiss. His tongue bypassed your lips instantly, the kiss growing hotter by the second. Your eyes slipped closed, your body eagerly rolling against his. A deep groan was muffled in his throat, hands pushing desperately at your shirt until your chest was exposed. That was the only time he broke the kiss - so he could attach his lips to your perk nipples, tongue flicking them happily.

“Tae,” you moaned loudly.

You pushed against his chest to sit upright, rolling against him harder and faster. Your jeans pushed into your aching core, feeling his growing hard on through his own pair of black denim bottoms. His hands gripped at your chest, hooded eyes watching you grind against him. Your eyes slid shut, head falling back as his name left your mouth.

“Tae,” you whimpered, cracking open your eyes and turning to look at him. But your movements slowed, much to his dismay. The male under you whimpered and pushed up into you, eager to continue. “Taeyong, what is that?”

The mafia leader ceased his movements, propping himself up on his elbows and turning to follow your gaze. His brow creased at the flashing blue and red lights that reflected slightly on the window.

“The fuck?” he murmured, moving you from his lap and rushing to the window. “Why the fuck are the cops here?”

“The cops?” you whispered to yourself, eying the man you love. Before you could question him more, muffled gunshots could be heard through the building.

Taeyong was quick to rush to the door, grabbing a gun on the way and sliding on his shoes. You jumped up after him, stumbling as you pulled on your own shoes and following after him. The noise in the hallway was louder than in the penthouse, screaming and shouting growing louder as your bounded down the stairwell. Exhaustion was setting in from the numerous stairs you rushed down, but neither of you stopped.

“Taeyong, wait!” you called at the man who refused to slow down. “Don’t rush in there! You could get hurt!”

Seething with anger, he didn’t listen, pushing open the door to the ground floor as soon as he hit the bottom step. You barely could register someone yelling Taeyong’s name and a shot being fired before he was stumbling back, a hand on his shoulder.

“Fuck!” he yelled out in pain, pulling his hand back to see the crimson blood coating his fingers.

“Baby, are you alright?” you asked, pulling him further from the door and seating him on the steps of the stairwell. Your own hand trembled, placed on his and feeling the blood slide between your fingers. “Shit, you’re hurt.”

“I’m fine,” he grimaced, wincing while adjusting how he was sitting.

“You’re far from, sir,” you told him, ripping off one of the sleeve of the shirt you wore and wrapping it around his arm. “This will help for now but…”

“It’s fine,” he said again. “We need to get out there and meet with the others. I saw them briefly when I opened the door.”

“But what if they shoot again?” you asked, your voice meek.

“I will protect you,” he said, letting out a deep breath before pressing a kiss to your temple. “Stay low and you’re going to go left. Jaehyun and Yuta are behind the reception desk.”

“Alright,” you let out.

“Don’t worry. I will be right behind you.”

Nodding, you cracked open the door, crouching low. The flashing of the police vehicles was brighter when you entered the lobby, finding the once beautiful area destroyed. Dead bodies of the staff that were employed by the NCT mafia to man their building were laid in various areas of the room, blood pooling around their unfortunate bodies after being caught in the crossfire. Furniture was ridden with bullet holes, upholstery exposed, and tables and desks having their wood flaked and chipped.

Jaehyun was quick to aid you, pulling you behind the front desk before helping Taeyong over. Yuta, Jungwoo and Mark were with him, heavily breathing and reloading their guns with the limited ammo they had.

“What the hell is going on?” Taeyong snarled at no one in particular.

“The cops, obviously,” Yuta cheekily joked, his laughter ceased with Taeyong’s glare.

“Obviously,” came the leader’s retort. “Did the police say anything?”

“No,” Mark told him, leaning against the desk. “I can only assume we were ratted out after what happened earlier.”

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Taeyong yelled. “Shit!”

“Yong, calm down,” you told him, taking his shaking hand. This seemed to calm him slightly.

“Where is everyone else?”

“Already sent off to the escape tunnels,” Jungwoo mumbled, eyes darting to a wall to the right. Taeyong had told you of the secret passage for escape in case of emergencies. “We told them that we would hold them off so they could get to the cars and escape.”

Taeyong nodded, running a hand through his red locks. His mouth opened, only to be silenced by the squeal of a microphone outside.

“This is the Seoul Police. We have the place surrounded. Come out with your hands up, or we will be forced to fire!”

The boys seemed adamant on fighting, telling you to stay down as they opened fire at the door and windows, the police firing back with each shot. The ring of the shots made your head hurt, your hands cupping your ears in an attempt to shield them. Your eyes squeezed closed, curling in on yourself and only hoping that a stray shot didn’t hit anyone.

When the firing came to a stop, and the boys ducked down, thankfully unharmed, they were all cursing. Jaehyun pushed at the desk, dropping his now empty gun.

“We’re fucked,” he growled, ruffling his dark locks.

“No,” Taeyong said firmly. “You guys go and escape. I will keep them distracted.”

“What, no-” Yuta began to protest, but Taeyong shook his head.

“I’m your leader. I swore to protect you all. I will go down fighting for my family.”

Yuta, Jungwoo, Mark and Jaehyun nodded, Marking peering around the desk. “We have a chance now. They aren’t looking in that way. If we can make it to the passage, we’re fine.”

“Good, then go,” Taeyong ordered, turning to look at you. “You need to go with them.”

“No,” you firmly said.

“That wasn’t an offer, Y/N,” Taeyong huffed. “Please, I need you to go. I need you to be safe-”

“I know it wasn’t an offer. I know what you’re thinking, but my answer is still no. I told you a long time ago when I learned what you do that I would be by your side until the end. I will be by your side until death do us part. I’m not leaving you to handle this on your own, Lee Taeyong. If you go down, I’m going with you.”

“Y/N,” he started, glancing at the others. They all held looks of concern, but chose to say nothing when their leader nodded hesitantly. The four men gave you a soft look before they darted for the passageway, the wall sliding open and closed quickly, their forms gone.

Taeyong sighed, leaning his back against the desk. He took the gun from his jeans that he grabbed on his way out of the penthouse, checking the ammo he had. “Not much left, eh?”

“Never thought this would be the end, did you?” you teased, trying to lighten the mood. Taeyong smiled for a second before becoming serious.

“You should have left while you could…”

A small smile graced the man’s face, lacing his fingers with yours. With a reassuring squeeze and the click of his gun in his right hand, he glanced to his side.

“I love you,” he mumbled just loud enough to be heard.

“I love you too,” you repeated, taking his hand and preparing to stand and face the gallows of red and blue lights flashing through broken windows and bent blinds. “I always will, Taeyong.”

Together you stood, lifting your hands as you walked towards the door. You spied the barrel of guns aimed at you as you stopped at the door, staring down the cops. Their words fell deaf on your ears waiting for Taeyong to pull the gun and proceed with his last hurrah. Your heart was pounding, hands clammy.

This was the end.

Just as Taeyong reached for his gun, smoke filled the area, shouts and screams and shots firing around the blinded area. Taeyong gripped your hand, tugging you back into the lobby of the building. He rushed towards the secret passage holding your hand tightly. As the wall slid open, he turned back to the doorway, spotting a figure in dark blue with a gas mask on watching them. You turned to follow his gaze, spotting the figure gesture before disappearing into the smoke.

“Who was that?” you asked quietly.

Taeyong pushed against the small of your back to force you into the passage, the wall sliding shut behind him. “Heechul.”

“Who’s that?”

“Our older brother mafia,” Taeyong hummed, smiling giddily. “Super Junior.”

“They came to our rescue?”

“Yeah,” the leader mumbled. “The others must have called them as soon as it was safe.”

“Well, I’m glad then…”

Taeyong chuckled, pulling you into a hug despite the pain he felt in his injured arm. His face nestled into your hair, a low sob escaping his throat. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

“We’re both safe.”

“Well, not yet I guess,” Taeyong said. “We need to go. Now.”

“Alright…”

Taeyong took your hand once more, the two of you running down the darkened hall, hoping that nothing would find you at the end.

You hummed a song softly, staring out a crack in the window at the barren road in front of the motel. Your fingers ran soothingly through the dyed black locks of your lover, who was curled up in your lap. Turning to look down at him, your own dyed locks fell against your cheeks, ticking his nose. A smile grew on his face, eyes remaining closed.

You had taken refuge in a small motel far from the city, waiting for things to die down. The boys were scattered and in hiding, just like yourselves. Disposable phones were the only way to keep in contact to make sure everyone was safe still. There was no telling how long you were to live like this, but you didn’t mind it.

“Y/N,” Taeyong sang, finally opening his chocolate colored orbs to look up at you. “I love you.”

He took your hand that was previously resting on his chest into his, playing with the square cut diamond ring you wore. It was the same one he took from the shop that day. A few days after your escape, after Taeyong had been patched up for his injury by the Super Junior mafia and everyone separated for protection, going into hiding, he pulled out the box from his jeans pocket.

“I was going to propose with this that night. I had everything planned - a nice dinner, a big speech, and a night to make love to you - but it all got fucked up. I would understand if you didn’t want to be with me,” he had said while laying in bed, fiddling with the box.

“You’re stupid if you think after all of this that I would say no and leave you. Till death do we part, remember?”

You happily wore the ring still, never once taking it off since he slid it on your finger. It wasn’t your ideal proposal, but you weren’t going to argue if it meant you got to be with him. Watching him fiddle with it now, a grin on his soft, handsome features, left your heart fluttering.

“I love you too, Lee Taeyong,” you hummed. “And remember, I will always be by your side.”

“Partners until the end?” He asked. You smiled leaning down to kiss him softly.

“Naturally.”

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idy-ll-ique · 4 years

Text

Winter Baby.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None

Requested: Nope

Summary: Bucky and Y/N meet when he goes to her library for the first time.

Author's Note: Hi there!! Whew, that was a long hiatus... anyway, I feel like some of you might enjoy this; personally, I'm not a big fan of my old writing but since I've not written anything new recently (marvel-related), I don't have a choice. So enjoy!

---

Y/N POV:

It wasn't easy owning a whole library alone.

But for money and livelihood, anything.

That was my mindset, I'm Y/N. I owned a small library in Manhattan, New York. To give you a more detailed address, it was on the same block as the Stark Tower, where the Avengers resided.

Customers swarmed my library frequently, it had been well-known for decades. The thing is, it was inaugurated by my grandpa. It was then handed over to my mom and now, after her retirement, I handled the shop with a few of my friends. I loved the library with my life.

Currently I was sitting on my seat at the reception, a Kafka book in my hand. When I heard the bell above the door ringing, I groaned in my mind.

"Welcome to Twice Upon A Time, how may I help you?" I drawled, without looking up. When I heard someone clearing their throat, I looked up. My eyes widened slightly but I smiled at the Kennedy assassin, also known as Winter Soldier, or White Wolf, or, Bucky Barnes.

"How may I help you, Mr Barnes?"

I was alone in the library, my friends having gone to eat lunch. I kindly refused, because someone needed to stay at the library.

"Please tell me where the Divergent series is kept, doll," Mr Barnes questioned politely with a friendly smile. I stood up and led him to the fiction shelves. He got whatever book he needed, put the money on the counter and left. He said he'd return the book within seven days. As he left, I stared at the back of his head.

To be really honest, I had a crush on him. I genuinely had a problem, I think, falling for the wrong person. First, my school bully (yuck), then Loki for a brief amount of time and now Bucky. As soon as I had seen him on the news, I was enticed. Obviously, I didn't tell anyone about my infatuation with Bucky. They'd judge.

Once, I saw him in a café with Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson, laughing and having fun. That was the day when I realized I had actual feelings for the guy. My heart involuntarily fluttered in my chest, snapping me out of my thoughts. I chuckled, shook my head and continued reading Kafka.

Bucky POV:

I stared down at the book in my hand, which was suggested to me by Nat. It was the first book of a four-book series. I entered my bedroom, running a hand through my hair.

As I sat reading, my mind wandered back to the small, cosy library, with the cute receptionist. I think she was the owner, I wasn't sure. She was famous in the area.

I did hear a lot about the bookstore, everyone had something promising to say about it. That's what made me go there in the first place. Now I know why everyone said that 'Twice Upon A Time is a great place to buy books!' One round around the bookstore, I fell in love.

The library held all kinds of books, from educational to adult, fiction, non-fiction, sci-fi... I shook my head and continued reading Divergent.

Throughout the book, I couldn't get the owner's face out of my mind. Her Y/H/C hair, eyes as grey as mine, small figure, her curves, her clothes... whoa.

"Goddamn it, Bucky!" I groaned to myself, snapping the book shut. I stood up, deciding to go back to the library to ask her her name. If I didn't, I knew I wouldn't be in peace until I did.

And maybe ask her to coffee, suggested my mind. I agreed. The library was quite close by, it took me five minutes to get there. When I walked in, I didn't see her anywhere. A guy was sitting on her spot. "How may I help you, Mr Barnes?" he asked, smiling. "Uh... you know that girl who was sitting in your spot an hour ago? Where is she?"

"Oh, Y/N? Wait." He got up and disappeared into the back of the library. I stood where I was, Divergent still in my hand. My hands started to sweat.

Why was I so anxious? Maybe because Y/N was so cute. The guy returned, Y/N behind him. "Hello, Mr Barnes," she greeted with a smile.

"Hi, Y/N, I wanted to ask you something," I implored, glancing at the guy who was watching us with a smile. He got the indication and departed.

"Anything," she mumbled, perplexed. "I wanted to ask you if you'd like to have coffee sometime," I chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of my neck.

"Of course, Mr Barnes, I'd be honoured! Shall I give you my number, so you can contact me?" she asked with a cute smile after being momentarily stunned. I readily handed her my phone. She added her number in and gave the phone back. "I'll text you," I nodded. "Okay, Mr Barnes, have a good day," she called out as I turned to leave.

"Bucky, please." I gave her one last smile and left the place. I went back to the Stark Tower, only to bump into Steve on my way in. "Hey Bucky, where have you been?" he inquired with a smile.

"Twice Upon A Time," I shrugged, holding up my book. "Oh, the owner of that store is a really sweet gal, do you know her? She's so polite!" he gushed. He knew her too? Damn. "I'm taking her out for coffee."

Hearing that Steve smirked at me. "Have fun, okay? She's awesome, I'll be the happiest if you two start a relationship," Steve wiggled his eyebrows. I gave his shoulders a push, laughing. "See you, champ." We did a fist-bump and he left the building. I went inside, straight to my room.

I smiled to myself as I started reading Divergent again. This time, I didn't mind having Y/N's face implanted in my brain. I read the entire book in 5 hours. When I finished reading the book, I gasped. That was such an interesting book, I wanted to read the second part!

The next morning I borrowed the second installation of the series, met Y/N, went home, read the book and finished it within a few hours once more. That happened until I finished reading the series. After finishing the series almost 5 days after I met Y/N, I finally decided to ask her out. I couldn't stop thinking about her, she was... attractive.

Y/N POV:

“Jesus, fuck-” I cursed when my phone startled me. Why would someone want to call me at midnight? Sighing, I picked up the call. "Hello?" I answered, instantly recognizing the voice on the other end. "Y/N, hey, I was wondering if we can have that date tomorrow."

"Oh." I checked the calendar, "Sure. Tomorrow's Saturday anyway, the library is closed on Saturdays." He dramatically heaved a sigh of relief, which made me titter. "How about 8 pm, we meet at the restaurant down the lane?" he asked hopefully. "El Diablo? Sure! I love that place! Bye Bucky, I'll see you later!"

He ended the call and kept my phone away. I stood up and stretched, yawning. I turned the TV off, picked up my phone and went to my room.

---

“Where are you, Buck?” I was waiting at the entrance of El Diablo for Bucky, dressed in a sweet, green dress. It reached my knees and it was strapless. I normally didn't dress like this, I felt uncomfortable. My friend, Anne said I looked beautiful and I trusted her, so... When I looked around again, I saw Bucky walking towards me, dressed in a suit.

I almost drooled, damn, he looked so handsome. His hair was tied back, a few loose strands hanging around his shoulder. His stubble seemed too perfect to be real. His grey eyes scanned the crowd until they landed on me. A smile bloomed upon his face as he walked towards me. With each step he took, my heart fluttered.

"Hi Y/N, you look beautiful."

He took my hand and pressed a kiss to it. Such a gentleman! I smiled as both of us walked into the restaurant, Bucky's arm around my waist. Half the restaurant turned to look at us. Their eyes widened, because what was the sweet bookstore owner doing with the Winter Soldier? Bucky and I ignored the looks and sat down at a table. Water was served and two menus were placed on the table. I didn't even bother.

This date seemed too fantastical to be real. Never in a million years would I have imagined I would be on a date with Bucky Barnes. Yet, here I was maintenant...

When Bucky was done with the menu I called the waiter over and placed our orders. When he went away, Bucky turned to me. "You didn't even pick up the menu," he teased. I shrugged and crossed my arms, unfolding them with a blush when I realized they attracted his attention towards my accentuated... ahem...

"I have been here 2-3 times before, I know my favourite dish from here," I chuckled, playfully glaring at him when he smirked at my blush. Both of us were chatting until our food arrived. We talked about our favourite book series as we devoured our food. His favourite series at the moment was obviously Divergent, while I was an avid Potterhead.

---

After dinner, Bucky decided to take me back to my house. As we walked down the lane, a gust of wind blew, making me shiver. "Cold?" Bucky asked instantly, taking off his jacket. He placed the jacket over my shoulders and I thanked him. When we reached home, I turned to him.

"Bye Bucky, I'll see you tomorrow."

I hugged him, kissing his cheek in the process. When he pulled away, both of us grinned at each other. He left. After the first date, Bucky and I hung out at the library a lot. Sometimes, he even bought Steve and Sam along, who were fun to hang out with, too.

Eventually, a few weeks later, Bucky asked me out again. This continued for 3-4 dates. As the 4th date ended with us standing outside the door to my house, Bucky turned to me. "Hey, Y/N, will you be my girlfriend?"

I froze and looked at Bucky, who was smiling at me, confident. “Wasn’t that already established?” I smirked, crossing my arms. “I thought so too, just wanted to make sure you knew.” I laughed loudly at his joke and a lopsided grin bloomed on his face.

My laughter abruptly stopped when he pulled me close to him, cupping the back of my head and holding it close to his shoulder with such intensity that I melted against him. When the hug felt too elongated, I tried to pull away. Bucky surprised me again when he gently pressed his lips to mine in a perfect kiss, according to me.

I kissed him back, wrapping my arms around his neck. His arms went around my waist, pulling me closer. “I wanna tell you something, don’t be mad,” he murmured against my lips. I hummed in a questioning tone, my mind still reeling in from the brilliant kiss.

“I love you. I know it has been only 4 months since we’ve known each other but I’m sure I love you. I’m not expecting you to feel the same way, but I wanted to get it off my chest. I really do love you, darling.”

To say I was shocked would be an understatement. I was flabbergasted. He loved me? Me, of all people? To be honest, I didn’t want to ruin this moment with unnecessary questioning, especially since I loved him back.

So I smiled.

“I love you, too, winter baby.”

“Never call me anything else ever again.”

“Deal, winter baby,” I chortled.

---

A/N: Please leave a like, it would mean a lot! Thanks for reading :)

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes fluff #winter soldier #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan characters #disney #mcu #marvel #avengers #fanfic #writing #writeblr

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kazoo5480 · 3 years

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Almost finished! 30 chapters down, a few more to go. Thanks to those of you who wrote awesome notes, and who provide inspiration to us newbies every day with your lovely tales!

Chapter 1 Arrivals

Prologue – September 1943, New York City

25-year-old Killian Jones steps down the ramp off the Algernon straight from Belfast. He has $40 to his name, the clothes on his back. Having lost his brother in an accident, his mother to illness, and abandonment of his father when he was 7, Killian made a choice to leave his homeland and make his way to America. America was currently engaged in World War II, with no family left, he decides that a fresh start in a new land and a new line of work away from the IRA is just what he needs after the arrests and massacres taking place back in Ireland.

Gun running and violence is not a life he wants any longer, nor is a life in prison, or death. He is hopeful that despite his heritage, he will be able to settle into a new life, away from the massacre left behind on the emerald isle. Finding honest work is harder than he expected, even in a city this large.

Waiting in those long lines with all those other expats, hoping to find honest work and nothing. He goes every day for two weeks but quickly realizes that no one wants to hire an Irishman or give him a fair shake. But he believes you make your own destiny and believes in hard work and determination.

He hears the other men talking, that security and lounges, the US Army, and driving taxis are just about the only people hiring anyone right now if you aren’t American.

Killian has no interest in joining Americas crusade, so he finds a gig working the doors and security a little dingy nightclub at first, but slowly descends into the more glamorous nightclubs and lounges.

Word spreads quickly to his newest employer, Louis Lepke, who owns the Riobamba- one of Manhattan’s most posh nightclubs that Killian was once part of the IRA and has a hell of a left hook. Lepke, one of the most dangerous mob bosses in New York at that time sees potential in Killian, thinks that his past IRA ties could be beneficial to their enterprise, and he offers him a better paying job running pickups and drop offs of packages that Killian doesn’t open and doesn’t want to open.

While the money is nothing to turn your nose up at, Killian continues this path, socking away the cash and crafting an entirely new persona for himself while making his own contingency plans to disappear for a quieter life someplace near the sea, perhaps finding peace and burying his demons for good at last.

Killian will never forget the day he was able to move out of the vermin infested room he had been renting in a boarding house on the lower east side, and into a three-room apartment of his own for $80 a month near Washington Square Park. Not cheap by any means, but it’s a second-floor walkup, with a fireplace, and wide windows that overlook the street.

Lepke pays him three hundred a month right now, but he always earns tips from both ends of pickup and delivery, and that extra cash is always appreciated.

He will never forget the first suit he purchases, or his first pair of new shoes in god knows how many years. He knows with his new employment, he needs to look the part, so he only is careful in his wardrobe choices, dark colors that won’t show dirt easily, well-tailored shirts, wingtips in black and white, and two hats that he sees the other men wearing.

He manages to pry a floorboard in the back of his new closet loose, securing the hole with a thin layer of wood, ensuring nothing would fall through or be lost to the ageing building, and he uses this as home for his cash and very little valuables. He has no furniture to speak of, except a mattress on the floor with linens, but he knows soon enough he will have money to furnish his new home.

For now, he is only willing to spend money on rent, and groceries, he saves every dollar that he earns after his necessities are purchased.

What he does not expect is meeting Emma Swan, an enchanting blonde lounge singer at the Riobamba. Frank Sinatra even plays there on occasion, so the joint was always packed. But amongst all those entertainers, is Emma. With the voice of an angel, the body of a bloody goddess, and a fire in her green eyes.

He knows that from the moment he saw her dancing and singing across that smoke filled room, that he was going to have her no matter the cost. Tonight, her golden curls pinned back on one side with a glittering clip, wrapped in a floor length sequin dress cut scandalously low in the front, even for the nightclub scene at that point in time.

She is easily the most beautiful woman he has ever seen, and he wonders if she works for Lepke as well, a personal relationship perhaps, and the thought of any man touching her at all has him see red when those thoughts flit through his mind. He always hopes divine intervention is on his side to catch a glimpse of her during her sets, whether picking up or dropping off to his boss.

Occasionally he just sits in the back nursing a rum while he watches her, gliding around the small stage, dressed like sex personified, singing in that angelic voice of hers, enchanting the entire room.

She sings songs of love and happiness, sometimes she covers popular music of other entertainers, but he sees the sadness and demons lingering behind those emerald eyes, the glittering dresses and gorgeous gold curls. He wants to know more, scale those walls he can spot a mile high surrounding her.

On more than one occasion he is thankful for the low lighting of the club and his dark suits to hide the evidence of his rock-hard arousal that she stirs up every damn time he lays eyes on her. Green eyes that sparkle in the low lighting, locking on his blue. She sees him and he sees her, never exchanging words, just eye locks and then he is off.

In a rare occasion that Killian indulges the other members of his crew in playing craps, he casually asks about Emma to one of the kinder men, Bill Starkey, a slightly older married man, who handles the books for the clubs that Lepke owns.

“What of that lounge singer Starkey, she is a sight for sore eyes if I may say so myself”, Killian mentions with a smile. The older man looks him over for a second, and replies “She is a quite a dame, isn’t she? Voice of a siren an everything, but she is not to be trifled with - She keeps to herself, is a bloody fantastic piece of entertainment, draws the crowds in, but she does not mess with our crew. Many of ours have learned that the hard way he says with a laugh, Tough as brass that one is, so don’t bother with her”, and the man went back to the game.

When Starkey bids goodnight, leaving the younger men to their games, another crew member that Killian has somewhat befriended named Victor Whale leans over, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “If its Emma you’ve set your sightings on, you are not as slick as you think ya git, my girl Ruby mentioned that she caught you watching her shows on occasion, but Emma doesn’t date anyone around here, if she does date, it isn’t anyone related to our line of work”.

Bidding goodnight to Killian and the few stragglers still playing, he stands and Killian notices Ruby Lucas in her coat waiting by the door with a smile on her face. Whale takes her hand and pulls them out the door. Killian feels a pang of jealousy at their obvious companionship but pushes the thought away.

Ruby Lucas, the costume coordinator for the club, is a gorgeous specimen of her own right with long chocolate locks, hazel eyes, and legs for days. She has worked in the club a long time, and if anyone knows Emma, its Ruby. Killian decides that perhaps he shall inquire to Ms. Lucas about Swan but tucks the thought away for another time.

He has gained enough information about her for one night, he will have to just be patient. If Ruby has noticed him watching Emma, he would bet the few dollars left in his lightened pocket tonight that she has told Swan about him, and that is something he is not quite sure he knows how to feel about.

He wonders what Ruby would tell Emma, since she was obviously very much with Whale, she must know more about their conducted business, but appears to know when to keep her mouth shut. Maybe, the tides will be in his favor since he tends to keep a low profile in his job. The bosses like him because he is discreet and is known not to be messed with.

Emma sees him alright, black suits, navy wool suits, tuxedoes at parties, custom made shirts, and she would bet her last dollar that those cufflinks he always wears are actual sterling silver.

He has slicked back inky hair, tousled in just the right places, a permanent five o’ clock shadow, and forget me not blue eyes that haunt her for days every single time she catches a glimpse of him staring right back at her.

She notices the way he carries himself, so confident, dangerous, and definitely a hustler. He must be connected somehow, and Emma does not want that complication in her simple life.

He looks at her sometimes like he would devour her like a man on death row, and she being his last meal. She cannot get mixed up with someone like him, she has survived this long without someone, and the last time she allowed someone into her heart it nearly broke her in two.

Her friend Ruby has casually mentioned him, his name is Killian Jones, he works with her boyfriend Victor, but she does not know exactly what his role is. Ruby giggles as she talks about how handsome Killian is, and notes that he always throws her a generous tip, never ogling her or being disrespectful like some of the other crew who think that any woman in the club is dumb enough to roll in the sack with them.

Ruby has been with her boyfriend for a few years from what she mentions, having been together since before Victor’s job with Lepke’s crew, whatever that may be. Ruby is also one of the few people that makes Emma smile genuinely and lifts her spirits. Emma considers the brunette one of her very few real friends.

One night after her set is done, Emma enters her dressing room, and slips out of her dress, carefully hanging it inside the garment bag, and lights a cigarette, swallowing a sip of her Manhattan. Her roommate Mary Margaret is getting better and better with her sewing skills, her emerald green gown tonight is delicate, covered in sequins and green feathers float around the hem of her dress, she admires the gown once more before zipping the bag.

Standing in her silk stockings and garters, she begins removing her jewelry and realizes suddenly that she is not alone. Sitting in a low chair in the back corner of the dressing room is Killian fucking Jones. She grabs for her silk robe, tying it quickly- trying to regain some of her modesty. Watching her with those blue eyes, fingers crossed under his chin while he leans forward, elbows on his knees.

"Don't stop on my account love, I simply wanted to introduce myself, and I thank the bloody gods that I was granted enough luck to watch your private show just now. He smirked at her, running is tongue over his bottom lip, and she wanted to punch that smirk off his smug face, even if her heart beat faster in her chest and not from anxiety.

“Emma breathe,” she internally chastises herself. Her brain reconnects, she stamps out her cigarette, and she manages to spit out “listen pal, I don't know who the hell you think you are, but I am not that type of woman. Go buy one down the street if you need to get your rocks off but get the hell out.”

He stood up, adjusting his trousers by the belt, which she noticed were fitting awfully tight, the evidence of his arousal clear but now covered as he buttoned his coat up.

He spoke, his voice a lilting Irish accent, “I apologize lass, I simply wanted to introduce myself and give you these in person,” he held out a large bouquet of creamy white roses tipped in pale pink, tied with a black silk ribbon.

“You are a vision, both on and off the stage Swan, and I simply was hoping to make your acquaintance as we seem to catch each other’s eye from time to time. I thought perhaps my interest was reciprocated, but clearly it is not, and I shan't bother you again”.

Emma did not know what to say, still shocked, her red painted mouth in a grim line. She caught his cologne as he made his exit, carefully avoiding touching her in any way. He smelled of wood and spice, and definitely rum.

Right as he was crossing the threshold to exit, Emma made a rash decision, and grabbed his hand, locked eyes with him and said, “Don't ever do that again, thank you for the flowers, but I am not interested.”

“They're nothing compared to you Emma, but I do apologize again”, and with that parting line Killian quietly exited, making sure to close the door fully behind him.

Emma locked the handle, ensuring no one else would interrupt her. She cleaned most of her face off and pulled on her burgundy wool dress and matching coat, gathered her things, and her flowers hailing a cab home.

Tagging a few who might be interested! @wefoundloveunderthelight @itsfabianadocarmo @purplehawkcaptain @the-lady-of-misthaven @the-captains-ayebrows @thesschesthair @myfearless-love @kmomof4 @jonesfandomfanatic @hookedpirate @xhookswenchx @let-it-raines @letmedieahooker @captainswanouat @captainswoon @cathloves @laschatzi @timeless-love-story @asluve @ao3feed-cs @ahookerandproud @ineffablecolors @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @kymbersmith-90 @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly @tnlph @the-captains-ayebrows @captainswoon @captainswanouat @captain-swan-coffee @jrob64 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @captainirishstubble @onceuponadaily @resident-of-storybrooke @greenlef777 Let me know if you want to be added or removed!

#once upon a time #captain swan #killian jones #emma swan

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shintorikhazumi · 3 years

Text

Sleeping Beau-

A/N: Happy Birthday Leoooooooo

I KNOW I’M OVER A MONTH LATE I’M SORRY ;-;

MAKING IT A TWO(?)-SHOT SO THAT CONGRATS ON YOUR GRADES TOO YEY! (Also because It was getting too damn long)

k. that’s all from me. Sorry for the meh quality and sorry in advance for all the mistakes and plotholes. I’m getting rusty. Forgotten how to write.

Enjoy?

~Shintori Khazumi

[Okay, how about a Mayakuro "remake" of seeping beauty? Where Claudine is all like "Tendo Maya give me that sword, I can do this shit myself" and wasn't in a coma like sleep but that it was just a rumour or something. ...she'd be so confused for a minute, no one told her that the princess would have that much of an attitude.]- Was the request, hihi.

“Sleeping Beau-”

“A princess... in a tower, oh so far away from me. This dear princess, deep in slumber, oh how much I long to see...”

“... Is this because you want to use her as reference for your new play?” A certain brunette mumbled through a mouthful of food she’d managed to smuggle in while on duty.

“Dame Aijo... It’s not like that.”

“I thought I heard you ask that vendor girl earlier for the location because you had plans to visit.”

“Shut up, Karen!” The bespectacled playwright frowned, scribbling down her latest line. “And how do you even know about that?” Junna narrowed her eyes at the knight who merely shrugged. Junna clicked her tongue, turning back to her sheets of paper. “I’m just a little curious, is all!” She defended, mumbling incoherent complaints to herself.

“But Miss Junna, the last time you used actual people as references for your script, you got scolded by Hikari.” Karen reminded, resting her head in her palm as she watched Junna jot down more lines, more notes for her newest work.

“Th-that was only because she didn’t like how I stared at you or Mahiru for too long! I couldn’t help it! I have to study my subjects intently to fully grasp their characters and way of life, and embody-” She was going off on a tangent, and Karen couldn’t help but giggle.

“So you are thinking of her as a reference.” Karen grinned smugly.

“Karen!”

“Now, now. What’s all the fuss about?” A voice called from the other side of the room, catching the occupant’s attention. The pair froze in place, minds registering the identity of the newcomer.

“Your highness!” Junna greeted first, immediately straightening up as she and Karen offered their respects in deep bows to the tall figure, regal and proud, stood at the doorway of the study.

The Royal Princess, Tendou Maya, in her full glory, sauntered into the room, not forgetting to shut the door behind her, before taking a seat on Junna’s desk- much to the latter’s chagrin- and immediately destroyed her image of poise and elegance as she hid behind closed doors.

“Finally.” Maya sighed, gazing out at Junna’s balcony, seeing the bright blue sky and the rustles of trees as the wind’s whistling was heard through open windows. “I thought they’d never end.” She huffed, jumping back onto her feet as she walked about the room.

“Princess, what are you doing here?” Junna addressed their new companion once more, surprised at the sudden visit. Usually Maya would inform her beforehand if she was planning on dropping by. “Did you run away from more noble meetings?”

Maya smiled at her in an amused manner that had Junna feeling a little irritated. “Can’t a student come see her Tutor at any given time should she have any queries in mind?” Maya asked sweetly, picking up a random book from a nearby shelf and flipping through its pages.

Junna stared, trying to read the woman’s expression and actions. She couldn’t. Groaning, Junna replied, “First of all, you are no longer my student. You’ve learned all you’ve needed to from me, finished all your course work two years ago. Secondly, do you even have anything to ask that I can answer that you don’t already know?”

Maya kept smiling at her mysteriously. “How are you?- is a valid question that you can answer and I don’t already know?”

“Don’t be cheeky, Your highness.” Junna rolled her eyes, getting back to her script on her desk.

“My, the genius scholar, the Kingdom’s royal tutor, can’t answer one of the simplest questions?” Maya faux-gasped. “Whatever shall we do? Find a new one?” She continued to tease.

Junna frowned, feeling a headache coming on. “Maya, you really don’t want me to dive into a long discussion on how that question could actually be one of the most difficult to answer.”

As if to remind the pair of her presence, Karen agreed enthusiastically, nodding her head at the same time. “You wouldn’t want to get bored, your highness. One time, Miss Junna tried to explain to me why I could buy five sacks of rice in the next town over for the price of only three in the capital, and I still don’t get it.” She chuckled sheepishly, scratching her head in confusion.

“Um, Dame Aijo, that’s a little different. You might be somewhat slow-”

“Oh, how interesting!” Maya clapped, playing along with Karen. Turning to Junna who had just flinched, she directed another question. “How can that be, teacher?” She asked innocently.

Junna grimaced, really not up to the task of having to play Maya’s little games today. Regaining her composure, Junna cleared her throat. “Okay, for what purpose have you actually come to see me, Princess?” She asked, hoping for a reasonable answer.

“To see my good old friend and catch up on life?” Maya tried.

Junna deadpanned. “Like hell that’s true. You haven’t visited me in three months. Each time you’ve visited before that, it was to either ask me to hide you from marriage interviews, sneak into a play, escape whatever duties you found tedious, or snack on baumkuchen secretly with Karen over here.”

“Baumkuchen is good for the soul.”

“Not for your figure.” Though she said that, Junna frowned as she remembered the time she was chewed out by the etiquette tutor for allowing Maya to eat ‘junk’ outside of mealtime; allowed her to eat more than her designated and controlled portions.

Despite knowing how nobles liked to keep up appearances, Junna hardly found it necessary to impose such a diet on the princess with how active she was anyway. Also, as someone with lists and lists of responsibilities to cater throughout the day, she worried if it was even enough, what they fed the poor girl.

What if she simply collapsed one day?

“You don’t mean that.” Maya smirked at her, propping up her face in her hands on Junna’s desk.

Junna’s frown deepened. A splash of color appeared on her face that she quickly hid behind her manuscript. “I suppose not.” She admitted quietly.

Maya laughed freely, stepping back to allow her friend some breathing room. She went over to Karen to strike up some more amusing conversation maybe.

“So what kind of whimsical fairy tale has Miss Junna tried to string together this time?” She asked Karen.

Junna choked on air as she turned to glare at the cause of her stress today. “Why would you like to know?”

If the princess claimed she wanted to take part in another one of her productions, Junna would have to discourage her from doing so. She used to be pleased to have Maya on board, sometimes even pleading her because of her talent and potential for the stage- she was very clearly loved by its goddess. However, Junna had quickly learned that a Royal should not be placed under that kind of spotlight.

They were already on a high enough pedestal that was better tailored to people of their caliber; worlds and worlds beyond even the most talented actors, the brightest stars.

When His Majesty’s second wife, the queen consort, had heard of these activities, she had hounded Junna, and her fiance Nana- the director and owner of the theater- to cease any production that would ‘taint’ the Royal Princess’s image and only serve as distraction from her duties that were of greater significance.

Such as trying to succeed the throne.

It wasn’t only for her sake that she had to turn Maya away from the stage that called to her like a siren from the sea. It would be better for that sailor to keep away and stay alive all together. After all, mermaids were temptingly beautiful, but they devoured the life of those drawn to them.

So would it be for Tendou Maya.

“There’s just been this rumor circling about, princess.” Junna heard Karen begin, looking over at the pair who shared amicable smiles as they conversed.

Should she halt this topic?

“And this rumor is...?”

“Oh, just how there’s this weird, abandoned, palace-like thingy in the forest just by the border to that terrible west kingdom.”

Junna watched as Maya seemed to perk up, not liking the interest that was apparent on her face.

“They say there’s a princess there!”

“My! A princess!”

“They said she’s been sleeping there for a while!” Karen continued to share without much thought, Maya nodding enthusiastically and clinging onto every word. An action Junna did not like. “And that she’ll never wake up. Poor princess. Can’t they bring her to a clinic or something?”

“Ohoh? I suppose that would be the usual course of action.” Maya replied, going along with Karen’s storytelling. “What else do you know?” Maya asked, hoping to fish out some more information, no doubt.

Junna had to stop her already burning hunger from getting even bigger.

“Nothing else that you should hear of.” She cut the conversation off with a tap of her pen. “Anyway, it’s all just a rumor.” Junna stated. “It’s not as though there is proof of an actual structure suddenly being there in the western forests, nor is there any certainty about a princess residing in deep slumber there.”

Maya flashed her an evil grin, walking over to her table again, standing right in front of her once more.

“But there isn’t any proof that it doesn’t exist either, right?” She whispered to Junna with a glint in her eyes that only spelled trouble.

“Don’t get any funny ideas, Maya. The kingdom will absolutely have my head if they learn that I’ve somehow placed ideas in yours.” She sighed, rolling up her papers and smacking Maya on the head lightly. The princess simply laughed in amusement.

“Worry not, my good friend. I’ve taken your kind words into consideration.”

Junna stared at her, still skeptical. Knowing Maya, ‘consideration’ was just that. Consideration. And, most likely, Maya was considering going against Junna’s warning.

Really, she could only hope for the best, and pray that Maya wouldn’t do whatever her pretty little head had clearly already planned.

‘No, no.’ Junna shook her head. She should trust Maya. She was an adult, responsible, and a royal. She knew her duties, and she knew what was right. Maya was an intelligent woman. She wouldn’t just thoughtlessly go out in search of the existence of some baseless tale. Yes. Junna shouldn’t have anything to worry about.

She looked over at the princess still casually conversing with Karen, all cheers and smiles coming from the pair. The knight continued to entertain Maya with more and more trivial details regarding the stories of that hidden castle in the woods, and the shine in Maya’s eyes that Junna usually associated with her excitement and craving for adventure only became brighter and brighter.

This was worrisome.

Junna bit her lip, anxiety growing more and more as she tried to convince herself that everything would be just fine.

Okay, okay. Even if Maya would, hypothetically, try to go off in search of this ‘mystery princess’, there were many guards posted about the castle anyway.

She couldn’t escape and do anything, right?

No, in the first place, she wouldn’t do anything. Right?

Right?

//-//-//-//-//

She shouldn’t be doing this. She knows it deep down.

Should her parents catch wind of her plans, she could either be disowned or forever locked away in her own tower.

Regardless, these threats of consequence could not hope to quell her hungered curiosity. Maya couldn’t sit still after hearing such a tale- an adventure outside the walls of the palace. One that was much like the stories she had only ‘played’ thus far.

This time, it was real.

And so did the princess sneak out into the dead of the night.

“Come now, Samson.” A lone horse’s whinny shook the silent air, Maya feeling her heart pound at the thrill of game she had begun to play. A game of life. “Shhhh. Be silent, my boy. We must be discreet.” She whispered, stroking the silky mane of her stallion, hoping it would soothe him.

It seemed to have worked and Maya sighed in temporary relief.

Looking ahead into the darkness of the courtyard, she surveyed the area ahead in attempts to check for any possible dangers. Finding none, she took one final look behind her to ensure that she was not being followed.

Good. The coast was clear.

Addressing her loyal companion, Maya took the reins and commanded forward. “Shall we?” She smiled as she got a little huff. “Hyah!” She exclaimed, loud enough only for their ears to pick up.

She cantered Samson over the currently-empty courtyard, out the back, having known a secret pathway through the castle gardens to get onto the streets without passing the main gate where guards were usually posted, and rarely left.

She should really advise their knights on how to better their security. People could get in through places besides the gate.

...or people could sneak out.

She could.

But maybe... not now.

Stepping onto the cobblestone pavement, she grinned. So far, so perfect.

Catching sight of the palace gate, she giggled as she saw a guard stretching in the distance, probably yawning from drowsiness during night duty.

Yes, she should indeed talk to her father in the future. Or not.

“Fools.”

//-//

Into the dense forest, they ran. Galloping hooves braving a weather that was somehow stormy. The air and the scenery was somehow eerie. Darkened clouds and thorny paths had so soon greeted them as Maya traversed towards the direction Karen had pointed out.

The location of a hidden tower.

From what Junna and Karen had shared in terms of the rumors they’d heard about it, they said a princess from the neighboring kingdom had been born twenty or so years ago. She had been blessed by three fairies, and cursed by a witch, Maleficent- was her name, apparently.

The girl was to prick her finger on a spindle of a spinning wheel, and then she’d sleep on death’s bed inevitably.

That was how it had gone.

Maya was a believer in the magic of the world. After all, the members of the royal family were some of the few who had been gifted with its wonder.

She wouldn’t call them miraculous, but she had undeniable strength that far exceeded many of their best male knights, as well as healing abilities that could get rid of smaller cuts, and halt excessive bleeding.

This proved useful as Maya made her way through the thick brush, feeling the sharp of thorns on occasion as she went deeper into the forest.

After a good hour or so of searching, Maya had found herself at the base of what she had presumed was the ‘palace’ from the rumors. Tall-standing and surrounded by thorns, with an eerie air that only added more fearsome layers to its image shrouded in darkness, Maya deliberated continuing on her little adventure.

Should it hold terrors far greater than she had initially accounted for, this curiosity trip would very easily end up with chaos and sorrow in an entire kingdom.

However, should rumors stay as rumors...

Maya laughed at her own foolishness as she dismounted Samson, tying him to a nearby tree.

“Let’s hope I don’t die, my boy.” She stroked her trusted steed as he nuzzled against her hand. “I’ll be back.”

//-//-//-//-//

Another cough exited her mouth, particles of dust shrouding her vision. Clearing away a cobweb with her hand, Maya found the first open door to any room she’s passed by thus far. A long winding stairwell sat inside, steps that snaked their way to the top of a tower invited Maya to take them and uncover the secrets they might lead to.

Maya took one step. Then another. And another.

Half-way to the top, she had found another door. Right away, she knew it was different from all the other wooden entrances she’d encountered so far. Besides the odd glow that seemed to be coming from within, it had an equally strange inscription carved into its wood.

With a light push, the door flew open, revealing a spinning wheel. The glow she had initially taken note of didn’t come from the room, apparently. But neither was it from the spinning wheel itself.

Maya focused her eyes on one part of the machinery, seeing the spindle sparkle alluringly, almost invitingly.

“What a dangerous-looking contraption.” She murmured, stepping closer. Sharp. It was sharp, she observed, the closer she got. “What if... someone got hurt?” In a trance like state, her body continued to close the distance between herself and the seemingly glowing piece of furniture. Her eyes remained fixated on its eerie shine. “...How tragic... would that be...”

Stopping just inches shy of the spindle, Maya’s breath stilled. Almost as if it had a mind of its own, almost as if Maya had forgotten the whole tale she had just been told, her hand lifted up, reaching for the spindle-

...when a creak suddenly caught her attention. As though a spell had been broken, Maya blinked, quickly pulling her hand away and looking up towards the source of the noise. She saw another door, one that was slightly open, leading into more darkness, revealing none of what possibly lay beyond it.

Her heart beat fast at the thought of either being caught by someone from her kingdom, or by an entirely different entity- a monster or ghoul perhaps? Either way, the dangers the options presented was not to her liking.

Still, this did little to douse the fire that was her thrill-seeking curiosity, and thus, she went after it: the dark and beyond.

She took careful steps, pushing the door to widen its opening in hopes that the strange light from the previous room would help to illuminate this new one. The hinged wood budged with an echoing creak, one that made Maya flinch, still wary of alerting any possible inhabitants of the palace.

Upon entering the room, Maya’s eyes fluttered about the dim surrounding, scanning over the surprisingly dusted furnishings, and well-kept room.

How strange.

For a place that supposedly only had a sleeping individual of a few years already, to be this clean... Was this also due to the effects of magic?

Her gaze continued to travel, hopping from one thing to another. She took careful, quiet steps about the room as she surveyed it, searching for a better source of light at the same time.

Coming to a curtained wall, she pulled the fabrics apart, hoping a window was present there. Smiling victoriously at her correct assumption, she allowed the natural evening light to flutter into the room and illuminate it as she turned around to see things more clearly.

And clearly she saw. Eyes widening, they came to rest upon a figure glowing under the elegant light of the moon. A sleeping beauty, resting. The princess of the rumors. Maya gazed upon her face, mind blanking and unable to tear her gaze away.

Her cheeks were somehow still a gorgeous apple-red despite supposedly having lack of nutrition due to her lengthy slumber- should the rumors hold any truth- albeit somewhat hollowed out. She had long lashes, and was fair-skinned. What drew Maya in the most in that moment was the glow of golden hair. Silky, fluffy, seemingly magical.

“Absolutely beautiful.”

Maya, outside of her conscious control, reached out to touch it- much like she’d almost done to the needle before. However, unlike that earlier attraction, this one was... different.

The pull of danger was as a hypnotic, malicious trance. Despite the dread coursing through your veins, the fear pounding in one’s heart, you could not step away. On the other hand, this allure was gentle, soft. She was not as a moth to a flame, nor a sailor to the siren’s song.

This was a hand held out, beckoning her for a life-changing dance as her fate entwined with whoever it was that lay upon satin sheets in an abandoned castle.

Maya flinched once her skin made contact with silken gold, before relaxing, enjoying their soft feel. Holding a few strands that slipped through her fingertips, she brought it to her lips placing a kiss on them.

Her heart beat painfully in her chest, but she did not think it was in any way unpleasant. Her eyes scanned over Sleeping Beauty’s features once more, resting upon slightly paled lips somehow growing larger and larger in her view.

Oh.

Maya had been drawing closer.

And Maya was about to kiss the lady.

Breath stilling in her lungs, Maya pulled her senses together, shaking her head as she berated herself for even considering such a distasteful course of action- throwing herself upon someone without the least bit of consent.

She’d seen many beautiful faces in her lifetime, she’d flirted with some too- much to Junna and her parents’ chagrin. But never had she felt as... captured as she was in this moment; never had Maya been filled with a strong urge to know who this person was, to have the pleasure of being acquainted with someone such as this.

She had never felt the desire to steal a kiss from someone she’d just met, and hoped that maybe... they’d kiss back.

Eyes widening, Maya slapped her hands against both sides of her face; the feeling of the warmth of her cheeks grounded her back in the reality of the moment as she attempted to take a step back and recollect herself-

And suddenly she found herself looking up at the ceiling and into precious garnets with a flame-like passion burning within them as she was pinned down to the mattress by their glare and their owner’s physical strength.

A lovely owner, might she add.

“Who. Are. You.”

Maya blinked.

‘Even her voice is lovely.’-She thought, despite the venom in its tone. Whether Maya’s heart was picking up speed due to fright or something else, she didn’t know. Her mind was a jumbled mess of being dumbfounded and starstruck at the beauty presented to her, her subconscious’ warnings that she was currently in danger, and confusion towards this predicament she had found herself in.

“I said, Who are you.” Maya’s fair lady repeated, shaking her by the collar for emphasis that she was not to be joked with, and that Maya should answer seriously if she wanted to make it out of this situation in one piece.

Did she, however?

Maya wondered if she had some sort of odd preferences deep down that despite her apprehensions and surprise, she couldn’t help but feel merry and excited in her position, laying beneath some unknown gorgeous woman who was angered and threatening.

She couldn’t help the smile that broke out on her face as she replied, “Why, I’m Maya. And you?” She hoped it at least looked charming, like the one she usually used on all the pretty village girls as their faces soon turned red and flustered.

She didn’t expect to get a growl instead... or should she have?

“Are you one of her servants?” The blonde interrogated, not answering Maya’s own question as she searched Maya’s eyes for any motives of deception and dishonesty.

“Her?” Maya cocked her head to the side curiously. “Who might you be referring to, my dear?” She asked, somehow still hoping to charm or tease the woman with a subtle pet name that only went ignored.

Golden brows scrunched up further, fangs baring more obviously for Maya to admire as the woman answered her question. “Maleficent, obviously!”

“Maleficent?” Now where had Maya heard of that before...

Apparently, this strange beauty had taken it upon herself to fill Maya in on the details, as she released her from her grip, pushing her away and onto the sheets as she got up to pace the room in clear vexation and rage from just the thought of whoever this ‘Maleficent’ person was. Just her name was enough to rile her up, it seemed, and Maya’s suspicious and intruding presence was now quickly forgotten as her newly-awakened companion went off on a raged rant.

“She who has locked me up for who knows how long. With the silly prophesy that I’d prick my finger on a spindle and fall asleep for many years.” She explained, pausing in her steps to give Maya a look. “That one.”

Maya still didn’t quite follow. It all did sound so familiar.

“I beg your pardon?”

The lady didn’t seem to have heard Maya as she continued on her fiery tirade. “Who in their right mind, when being told the exact misfortune that would serve as their demise, go with it? Certainly not I!”

“I see...?” Maya had now assumed a more comfortable sitting position atop the room’s mattress, watching the woman in front of her continue to grumble and pace about.

“Avoiding that damned curse was nothing of a challenge- it was trivial, even.” She sighed, biting her nail in annoyance. “But there’s an entirely different issue at hand!” She exclaimed, stomping her foot down as she crossed her arms and looked to Maya, as if asking her to tell her what it was.

Maya had no clue whatsoever.

She heard her companion click her tongue in disappointment at the lack of response, and that somehow stung for Maya.

Maya was quickly enlightened once more by the things she had no clue about.

“I can’t leave the building for some reason. Each time I’ve tried, it was as though I’d entered a never-ending maze.” She huffed. “And even if I got passed that, I’ve discovered that she sends a dragon to check up on me from time to time. The timing is sporadic so I can’t even plan a definite schedule of escape. Maybe if I had my sword, though...” She mumbled the last bits to herself. “Maybe it would be a different story.”

Maya watched the troubled girl continue with her mental acrobatics and murmuring, still bewildered by the sudden outburst of emotions and quickly growing pile of information that she was still trying to process bit by bit. She reviewed the story she had heard in her memory to the best of her abilities, somehow feeling that something was off with the tale she had just been told.

Something clicked, and she snapped her fingers in realization, as she got up from her seat and walked over to the perplexed lady.

“Excuse me-”

“What.” The response was biting and cold.

Maya flinched, but prepared an unbothered smile as she tried to strike up a coherent conversation with this girl.

“I’m sorry, but... I just wanted to confirm something.”

The blonde only raised her brow, telling Maya silently to go on.

Maya suddenly felt nervous, and nervous wasn’t really something she thought she was capable of feeling, not with all her background and training. However, under the scrutiny of those intense eyes, she felt her throat dry as she struggled to use her words.“Um, so...” She began, feeling the urge to rub at the back of her neck to ease her sudden anxiety. “You said you couldn’t find a way to leave?” She finally got out lamely.

“Yes, that’s what I said. Weren’t you listening?” Was the fiery response that confirmed Maya’s confusion.

“I... I see.” Maya stuttered. She cursed at the fact that she did. Still, she had to continue on with this conversation in order to understand what was nagging at her. “I see, but...”

“But?”

Maya pointed towards the way she came in, the door still wide open and with that odd glow from the needle in the previous room she’d passed to arrive in this one. “The exit is right there, milady.” She stated slowly, clearly, hoping the other woman would get her message.

“...”

“...milady?”

She received an angered glare, feeling her collar grasped once more as Maya was pulled to meet the woman eye to eye. “What foolishness are you spouting?” She questioned, thrusting a finger in the direction Maya had pointed at. “That is clearly a wall.”

Maya blinked, tilting her head in confusion. No, no. She was clearly not blind, was she? She was sure that she wasn’t dreaming either- that she was in the right state of mind. So why...

Instead of trying to explain things, or understand through words, Maya decided to figure things out the easier way. She pried the other woman’s hands away and made her way towards the door. She felt the heated gaze on her back as she stood in front of the open frame. Looking back once, she nodded.

And she walked right through the door.

Staring at the lady through the passage, she wondered why she wasn’t being followed, why there was no ‘I hadn’t noticed that there’, or any similar words.

All she heard was an awed, “How did you do that?”, and her lagging brain clicked. Oh.

Maya came back in, multiple possibilities and reasons now running through her mind as to why this girl could not see the clearly placed exit. Right, this place was covered in magic. Why hadn’t she thought of that sooner? Maya put on her smile once more, approaching the girl as she took her by the hand and led her closer to the door. “I’m telling you, milady. There’s nothing here.”

She still looked at Maya skeptically, clearly in doubt.

“Milady, do you believe in magic?”

She received a deadpanned look, and she realized it wasn’t the smartest question to ask someone who had been locked up in a tower, guarded by a dragon, and cursed to suffer eternal slumber by the touch of one tiny needle.

“Apologies, of course you do.”

Maya watched the blonde sigh, as she nodded, looking at Maya with a calmer demeanor as she stated what they now thought they both knew. “So there’s a door there, and I simply can’t see it because I’m probably under some type of illusion spell.”

Maya hummed her agreement, and admired the way her companion’s face lit up in relief and a joy she didn’t think she’d ever see replace the grouchy expression that seemed to be forever set in place.

“Well.” Maya’s sleeping beauty smiled at her, unknowingly making her heart skip a beat. Maya wondered what that was about.

“Well?” Maya parroted, clearing her throat after a minor crack in her voice.

“Now that we know that this wall is but an illusion... I guess I feel like a fool for not trying to figure that out any sooner.” The woman laughed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she turned to look about her room. “I suppose it’s time for me to leave this musty old building and claim my freedom.” She grinned. “I wonder if I can find anything of use here that I can take with me.”

Huh. She was leaving.

Somehow Maya didn’t like the sound of that.

She couldn’t leave. Not when they hadn’t even had a proper conversation yet.

To where would she go? Would it be to a place where Maya could find her, or seek her out? Maya felt compelled to stay with her, or have her stay with Maya. Maybe they could go back to Maya’s kingdom together... and then she could get to know her more. Maya... wanted-needed to get to know her more. Even if she didn’t know why that was herself.

Right, Maya still didn’t know her name. Where was she from? Why was she... Maya needed to ask. Maya needed to know.

Clearing her throat once more, she reached out for the girl.

“So, I was wondering-”

“It was nice knowing you, thank you for showing me the way out.” Were the words that interrupted her plans.

‘Wait, no. Not yet. Where are you going?’

“Now I must be off-”Maya’s panicked hands were too late in catching the girl as she tried to exit the room, “Oof-What the...” but instead found herself hitting a hard barrier and falling onto her back.

Hmm?

“Hmm? What... happened...” Maya asked, quickly kneeling to check on her fallen companion.

The woman rubbed her forehead, a red spot marking the area that probably hurt the most. “That’s what I’m asking.” She quickly turned to glare at Maya, pointing an accusatory finger at her. “You.” She angrily spat. “You lied to me.”

“Wha- I did no such thing!” Maya felt compelled to defend herself, getting up from her spot and hastily walking in and out of the doorway, as if that would prove some point. “See?”

“I don’t see!” The blonde exclaimed, crossing her arms as she sat on the floor. “You really are one of Maleficent’s henchmen! What, did she send you here to make a fool of me? Is she watching from somewhere? Is this some kind of sick entertainment for her?” She madly questioned, standing up and jamming a finger into Maya’s chest, forcing her back.

“I’ve already told you, I’m not!” Maya countered, her own volume raising.

“Then who are you?!” The woman screeched at her, pinning her against the wall- except that it wasn’t a wall for Maya, and she promptly fell through into the other room and onto the cold hard floor.

“Ouch... that hurt...” Maya groaned as she got up, running her fingers against the back of her head gently to soothe the sharp pain there.

She looked up to see the girl on the other side of the entryway banging her fists against a barrier Maya could not visualize, but the other could not deal away with, apparently.

“Who are you?” She was asked again. “Who are you?! If you aren’t one of those people who have thrown me in here, how did you find me? How did you know of this place? Why are you here?! Tell me!”

Maya silently watched her continue to yell in fury, continually slamming her hands desperately against the ‘open door’.

“Were you here to toy with my sanity? To give me false hope that I’d finally get be able to be free?”

Each question was accentuated by a hard thumping sound as she beat against the wall.

“Did you leave already?! Figures you would! You didn’t even try to prove me wrong!”

Maya considered the option of exiting the place, no longer willing to tolerate the manner with which she had been treated the entire time. She considered it.

She considered no longer having to deal with this clearly crazed woman. She did not know what came over her when she thought that she was the least bit attractive.

She considered getting up. She got up.

She considered turning away. Maya did.

She considered finally walking out of the room...

-until she heard it.

The tiniest sniffle, so small she could have missed it if it weren’t for the sudden complete quiet after all the loud noise.

“...I just thought I’d finally be able to find my way home...Wherever home is...”

A pang shot through her heart as she turned back around, eyes falling upon a forlorn face that was quick to be covered in tears. If that wasn’t enough to drive an emotional knife through her chest, the lady beyond the wall began to wail helplessly in what Maya could only describe as pure, unadulterated pain.

“WHY AM I HERE?! WHAT DID I EVEN DO TO DESERVE THIS?! WHO EVEN AM I?! WHY ME?!” The girl sobbed. “Damn you, Maleficent! Damn you, dragon, damn this stupid tower, damn it all!”

Maya watched the girl slump against the clear barrier, falling to her knees as her poundings returned in weak waves and slaps against the wall, until she ended up curling on the floor, quietly sniffling and well-worn.

Maya approached the door once more, wanting to reach out, but not knowing what to say. She crouched down, mouth opening and closing until her voice eventually came out.

“I... I’m still here.” She spoke softly. There was no response. “Can you hear me?” Nothing still.

Maya bit her lip nervously. If she tried to go back in, would she be walking straight into death’s clutches? Would she get beat up? Even if she escaped later, how was she to explain what happened once she returned home?

Maya needed to think... wait, but did she have the time? She didn’t have all night to do whatever it was she came here to do. She needed to be out by sunrise and well on her way home. Wait... home? What home? Where was she? Why did she need to go home? Why was she here in the first place? Where was here?

“What am I...”

She felt a sharp pain in her head. Was it from the fall? Maya suddenly felt dizzy, her head began to spin and ache as she fell to the ground. She cursed the throbbing in her head. Maybe she could try healing it with magic. Maybe that would assuage the pain.

Healing? Magic?

What...

Maya shook her head. She didn’t have the time to think about all these things that were suddenly confusing her. She just had to do what she needed to.

Her hand took on a golden glow that almost seemed foreign to her. She didn’t know what it was, but somehow her body told her she should do it, that she could.

Shakily raising her hand up in a struggle, she managed to touch her head, and suddenly, along with a blindingly bright glow that filled the room, she felt clarity and many thoughts flowing in, as the pain melted away into nothingness along with the light.

Maya blinked, suddenly remembering so many things that she didn’t even know she’d forgotten. “...The princess. I’m... a princess. I’m Tendou Maya and I’m here to... I wanted to find out about a princess- the princess!” In panic, she turned to the lady she had been with all this time, her story earlier now registering in Maya’s mind and associating with the tall tale Junna and Karen had spoken about.

Maleficent... a tower... magic... a spindle and a curse.

Maya whipped her head about to see that the needle was no longer glowing to her. It looked like any old spinning wheel, sat in a room.

It was like an enchantment had been lifted off of Maya, and she saw with clearer eyes what was going on.

When had it settled? Was it the moment she entered this forsaken castle? Was it when she had laid eyes on the cursed contraption? Maya did not know.

All she knew was that she needed to help set free this woman that was most probably the princess from the rumors that may as well not be rumors. But how?

Well, it didn’t matter right now. Maya just needed to take some course of action to temporarily ease the situation. She could figure out the rest later. Soon. She did not know how long she’d been here in the tower, nor did she have a way of telling how much time she had left before needing to leave except through the window she’d opened in the other room. If she had to go in anyway, she may as well explain things to the captive princess inside.

Maya swallowed thickly, wondering what she should do now. The princess still lay across the way. Should she simply step over her and enter like that? Or should she move her out of the way first. Either option would probably get her beat, but Maya didn’t need to think about that right now... maybe if she held her in place to prevent her from attacking once she notices Maya’s presence?

Nodding to herself, Maya crept closer to the open door, knelt down on one knee, bracing her arms for the weight.

She needed to do it smootly and quickly, before there was any time for the other woman to register what was going on.

Three... two... one...

“Wha-!”

Maya slipped her hands and arms under the princess’ weight and hurriedly carried her up and over to lay her down on the bed before she could react.

“You!” Wide eyes regarded Maya with shock as she pinned the other princess down by her wrists, hoping that she couldn’t break free. “Why are you back?! What more are you going to do to me?! Are you- Get off me! Get off!”

“Wait! Wait! I need you to listen to me for a moment! Please!”

“Why should I, you rascal- what are you doing to me-mmpghhmm! Mmmmphhh!!!”

Maya had managed to hold down both the other woman’s wrists with only one of her hands, while she used her free one to cover her mouth, hoping to silence her, if only for a bit.

“PLEASE JUST LISTEN FOR ONCE.” Maya shouted sternly, shocking them both by the power and force in her voice. She felt worse as she noticed the still-present tear stains on her cheeks. They stared at one another in complete silence, until Maya regained her thought process. “Please. Listen. I’ll tell you all I know. But please listen first.”

The girl still looked shocked, but nodded.

Maya nodded back, pondering her next words. “If I... release you. Will you promise to stay silent and behaved, and let me explain everything?”

She watched the girl slowly nod once more.

Maya looked at her doubtfully.

“You won’t attack me?”

Another nod.

“...okay. I’ll let go now.”

To be safe, she first took her hand away from the girl’s mouth, receiving a disgusted glare.

“Leather tastes awful.”

“You promised to stay silent.”

“You promised to release me.”

Maya felt her brows furrow, feeling the slightest bit annoyed.

“Do not attack me.” She warned, slowly releasing the woman’s hands. “I swear, do not attack me. Do not.” She chanted, hands finally completely off. “I’m telling you, I swear. Do not-”

And once more, she found herself pinned against the cushions, only this time, she was face first into them.

“I SWEAR TO GOD-”

“Tell me who you are and why you are here!” Was demanded of her. “And don’t try anything strange.” Maya could probably find a clever way to weasel her way out, but she knew if she raised any more suspicion by being untruthful or vague, she’d get nowhere in negotiating and explaining with this person.

Sighing her usual pride away, she asked a single question first.

“Will you believe what I’m about to tell you?”

After all, there would be no point if she didn’t.

“Yes.” The answer was quick, and Maya was genuinely surprised.

“R-really?!”

Genuinely surprised.

“Just spit it out. No funny business either.”

Maya actually felt elated as she did her best to nod in her position.

“Okay, I will tell you. My name really is Maya.”

“Maya. Maya what?”

“T-Tendou Maya.” She answered, before adding, “I’m a princess from the nearby kingdom, and I came here to confirm a rumor.”

Suddenly she felt herself released. Easing up into a sitting position, she turned to look at an oddly nervous face.

“... Are you serious about the princess bit... Tendou Maya?”

A tingle ran through her spine at the sound of her name rolling off those insanely gorgeous lips that she was suddenly so conscious of once more, almost forgetting to respond.

“Y-yes. Yes. I promise. No lies here.”

She was given a once-over, before the other party looked away and whispered a quiet ‘sorry’.

Why... was it so cute.

“So we can be civil.” Maya quipped, lightly teasing.

“Shut up.” The woman huffed. “And so? What rumor, p-princess?” Maya was asked carefully, snapping her out of any unnecessary thoughts.

Right. Maya inhaled deeply, breathing out a question in return to first confirm something. “Do you know how old you are?” She asked.

Her companion looked at her confusedly, before nodding. “If my guess is right, and that Maleficent visits every year or so to see if I still exist... then I know I am roughly twenty years old from the time I was taken away at six. But what does that have to do with what you’re saying?”

Maya nodded to herself, now a little more sure, and hoping that these rumors actually held some kind of truth to them. She looked seriously into confused eyes, ready to explain.

“If that is so then... the rumor was that a princess had been asleep in a castle in the woods for many years. I... came here to investigate.”

“Princess?” The girl echoed. “Me?” She asked again, pointing a finger to herself.

Maya nodded.

“What?”

“If the rumors hold any weight to them, then...”

“But really, a princess?” The girl continued to be skeptical, and Maya was becoming just as confused as she was.

“Wait, don’t you know that? But...” Digging through her memory, Maya was so sure that... “But you knew that you were supposed to prick your finger and fall asleep, didn’t you? Why wouldn’t you know that you’re a princess...”

Two confused ladies sat on a bed, staring at each other in utter confusion.

“I was raised in a cottage in the woods by three aunts. They just happened to warn me about something odd like this. And they told me that if I ever came across a Maleficent person, I should try my best to get away...”

“But how did you end up here?” Maya was now so very lost.

“I honestly do not know.” The blonde shrugged. “I woke up one day in the room with the needle, somehow felt angry that I fell into the stupid situation I was trying to avoid... and I remember walking away from it. Next thing I know, I’ve already grown up in... this place.” She shrugged nonchalantly, gesturing towards the whole room. Maya suddenly felt the urge to laugh.

“Pff- what?”

“What?” The look on the other woman’s face told Maya that she was slightly offended with Maya’s reaction.

“No, I just... Your tale sounded like it should have been much more dramatic than that. But then you just... walked away. From what was essentially your life’s bane.” Maya giggled, laughed in disbelief, combing a hand through her hair. “I can’t... I can’t believe you.” She said, looking the girl in the eyes in amusement.

“How rude... after I believed every word you said.” She grumbled.

“Except that you are possibly a princess?”

“...No one would believe that.”

“And you believe that I am?”

She received a shrug. “Best be safe than sorry. If you ever go back to your little kingdom and report that you were manhandled by a random prisoner in the forest, I might be free from this prison, but moving straight into another. Though that doesn’t sound so bad if it means I have company.”

“Pfff.. ahahahha. What are you saying?” She broke out into laughter, wiping tears away from her eyes, feeling more and more relieved by the second.

Everything felt so surreal to Maya. It all felt peaceful and settled, like she wasn’t just adventuring in a dangerous area; like she hadn’t just been under- and fighting against- the effects of a spell that was distorting her mind; as though she wasn’t just wrestling for life with the woman now seated calmly across from her.

A woman she still didn’t know, but felt like she should.

“And so?” Maya said, finally calming down.

“So? So what?”

Maya felt a familiar giddy smile playing over her lips once more.

“You told me what was essentially your life story, so how about you finally tell me your name next?”

“My name?”

“Yes. Your full name, if possible.” Maya said with a bat of her lashes that earned her an eye roll.

“Right, how about no.”

Maya felt her lips fall into a pout. “But why? Isn’t it only fair that I get your name in exchange for my own?”

“All is fair in love and war, whether you get my name or not.” The woman shrugged, returning a grin of her own.

Maya liked that. The grin, and the mention of love.

Love... huh.

As Maya continued to get hung over on those words, she heard a cock crow in the distance, reality immediately sinking in as she looked in the direction of the window only to be greeted by the thin orange line of the morning horizon.

‘No!’

“I-I have to go!” She sprung up to her feet, panic in her voice as she looked around the room hastily for anything she may have dropped of hers. Finding all her things secure, her gaze finally landed on the lonely smile on the face of the woman she had strangely become attached to- so much so that she didn’t want to leave. She gasped, realizing what she’d said wrong. “I-I mean... we- we have to-”

“I suppose this is goodbye.” The other woman said quietly in a tone that was a far cry from her earlier fierceness. “We both know I can’t leave. Not unless we figure out how I could.” She spoke, eyes trailing towards the door only Maya could see. Her voice was small, insecure. It was sorrowful. It hurt.

But it didn’t have to, Maya realized.

She coughed a few times, approaching the foot of the bed, kneeling by the seated maiden. She hesitantly offered her hands up, pleased when the response of the woman was to place her own in Maya’s.

Maya took in a deep breath to counter the unexpected anxiousness growing within her.

Lifting her gaze up, her words came out in a mere whisper. “M-May I... come see you again?”

Maya watched her eyes express the widest range of emotions she’d ever seen from a person. Shock, embarrassment, warmth, fondness, gratefulness...

They were beautiful.

Even the small drops of tears that had begun to form at the tips of her long lashes, beautiful.

Her current smile and bout of gentle laughter, beautiful.

The way she sniffled, and the fresh trail of tears that rewrote the story of the prior stains on her face- so beautiful.

The way her golden hair framed her face, stray tresses sticking to her slightly sweaty skin- beautiful.

Maya stared at beauty itself, and was left in awe.

“Only if you bring me a better meal than stale bread and uncooked potatoes.” She chuckled through her sniffling.

Maya felt her heart flutter erratically, barely managing a playful response. “Any requests?”

“... Tuna.” Was the near inaudible reply, coupled with a shy tint on her companion’s cheeks.

“May I inquire as to why?” Maya asked, feeling her stupid grin widening so much, it ached.

“...I just like it...”

Just who was this adorably shy creature, and how could Maya make her even happier.

“Understood. I will acquire for you only the best.” Maya smiled, the pads of her thumbs running circles over the smooth skin of the other princess’ hands.

Another crow of the rooster made her grip those hands lightly, the sting in her chest coming back.

“I s-suppose I’ll see you again later.” Maya said, looking down at their joined hands, avoiding the other’s gaze as she stood up.

As she began to pull away, she felt a light tug. Looking up, she met bashful garnets searching her eyes, and quivering lips that were trying to communicate something.

“Yes?” Maya gently prompted, squeezing her hands lightly.

“Claude. For now... you can call me... Claude...J-just so that... when you come back...” Claude trailed off, averting her gaze shyly- rather endearingly, might Maya add.

“Claude.” Maya smiled, placing a chaste kiss on her knuckles. “I will come back.”

She relished the blush blooming across ‘Claude’s’ face, pocketing it in a memory to be recalled multiple times throughout her everyday, no doubt.

“I will definitely bring you home. I’ll figure out a way.”

Maya cupped her face, wiping the few tears that had escaped away as she rested her forehead against Claude’s.

“I will definitely bring you home, free.”

A/N: I clearly strayed from theme. Sorry. Ah. ;-; sorry, this was no-good ;-; Sorry Leooooooo, hope you liked it even a littleeeeee.

~Shintori Khazumi

#mayakuro #shoujo kageki revue starlight #revstar #starira #fanfic #saijou claudine #tendou maya #aijo karen #hoshimi junna #parody #sleeping beauty

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kryptsune · 3 years

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Till Death Do You Part {Part 1} (UF Frans)

🌼Hummm I wonder why this is getting reposted with fully new edits. Could there be a reason I wonder?~

It was common for a girl such as herself to be betrothed to another even if she didn't know of him truly. A frightening prospect to promise your life to someone you had never met. Someone she knew so little of. Tonight was the night that they would meet and speak weeks before they would pledge themselves to one another. Just thinking about it made her nervous, hands fiddling with the fabric of her dress gently. Any moment now.

She was made up to look the most beautiful she had ever before but even then she was anxious, a shy and timid thing. Her auburn hair was styled in ringlets by her face amongst the bright ruby of a satin dress. Why had her father arranged such a thing? Wasn’t love the most important feeling? What if that was a luxury should would never be able to afford?

The young Lord yawned as he adjusted his cufflinks, going through the motions as always. He figured she would be just another pretty face, no mind to stimulate him, "I give her a month..." he murmured to himself before setting out for his first meeting. She was pretty, of course, and he always played the handsome and charismatic young suitor, "You must be the oh so lovely Lady Frisk."

Frisk didn't know who or what to expect as she twirled slowly to see whose baritone voice was addressing her. Was this him? The young lady picked up her dress taking a little curtsey out of respect. It was the proper greeting for a lady, "Yes Sire, though such flattery is not necessary. Frisk will do just fine." She had beautiful sparkling blue eyes like dazzling sapphires and a smile warm like the first rays of the morning sun.

She watched as he took a sweeping bow, "I would be your betrothed, Lord Red Fontaine." His hand extended out to her desiring the feeling of her own, "My... your beauty is astounding, I do not flatter my dear, there's no necessity for it.”

Well, he certainly was the charmer, “Forgive me, my Lord. I was uncertain and a lady should never assume. I thank you but I must confess my own thoughts on the matter, beauty only runs so deep. There are far more important qualities in a person.” She gingerly slipped her hand into his own. This was a gesture that most male suitors practiced at the time. The true test for her was his reaction to her confession.

He lifted that dainty pale hand, brushing his lips over the skin. A smile pulled at the corner of his mouth as he laid on his almost supernatural charm, "Quite right my dear. Beauty fades overtime, but the mind...oh the mind is wondrous in what it can do...It is a true rarity to find both qualities." She was different from the other pretty faces he had charmed over the centuries. Something told him this was going to be quite interesting.

Most men she had conversed with wanted dull and shallow girls, all things which she was not. That gentle kiss he laid on her hand did cause her cheeks to warm in a sweet pink glow, “Such a refreshing perspective my Lord. I am used to dulling the mind in pursuit of shallow appeals. As you can see I do not hold my tongue.” It was better, to be honest about who she was then proclaim a temperament that she could not uphold.

He could not contain the smirk that twisted his mouth, perhaps she would prove to be a challenge nearly after 400 plus years, "Indeed, I too find your outlook refreshing. It's so rare to see a young lady of the times actually use the mind they possess." His voice was soft as he pulled her closer to him.

Cobalt eyes locked with his as she was brought close enough to feel the velvet of his suit. She considered him swoon-worthy, a gentleman, and he agreed with her view of intellectual stimulation. A rarity if she ever knew one. Her nerves fluttered away, “It is unfortunate. I hope that I do not disappoint. I must confess my nerves have been keeping my attention all day until this point."

One of her many distinguishing features were those eyes that held a vibrancy to them that he hadn’t seen in all his centuries, "As they should... After all, women are expected to bow and behave for their men." He gave a boisterous laugh and waved a hand dismissively, "Bah with that. I want my bride to be herself. Something I suspect you'll do, won't you?"

She seemed like such a sweet little thing. Usually, the ones he chose were vain or dim-witted. They jumped on him as soon as they saw his looks but not her, "A good mindset to have my dear, come let us take a walk and speak more." All he got was that sweet smile and those gemstone eyes filled with newfound curiosity and excitement, “I can only ever be true to myself, my Lord. Nothing more.”

He smiled at her agreement, endeavouring to know her fully and of course more playing to what she liked, but he found he had to lie less around her, "Truly, I've had a wonderful time my dear. I look forward to our wedding and future life."

Frisk was the happiest she had ever been because of his genuineness. She wasn’t quite sure if she loved him but he made her smile and treated her like a human being, not just some prize to be won or a doll to display, “As do I.” That genuine smile practically caused her face to glow.

He kissed her forehead chastely knowing full well he had to play his hand sweetly for now. The young bride to be couldn’t deny his sweet forehead kiss was enough to melt her as his hand slipped from hers. There was no doubt that she was smitten with him. His voice was that baritone that would cause one’s knees to weaken, "Wondrous my dear, I shall see you quite soon~"

As he always intended of course. He left her soon after dropping her off back at her home, slipping into the shadows as he returned to his own estate. His mind wandered as he strolled past the lamps posted at every street corner, their flames bright behind their glass cases. As with every game they played he would relay his findings to his two older brothers. They would exchange their progress and in turn joke about their victim’s coming demise.

His return home prompted a sit down by the roaring fire and a glass of wine as he let them speak. Carthus, the second eldest, reclined upon the ornate fainting couch that rested to the right of the main sitting area. The eldest, Gered, took a seat to his right.

The conversation left him at odds even as he barely processed to the words that slipped from his mouth. His two brothers on the other hand reveled in the drab game they had been toying with for more lifetimes than he cared to count.

Carthus smugly teased his younger brother with her potential thoughts of him as the moon rose to cast its silver light upon the land. The beams slipped through windows casting a somewhat eerie glow within the room. He of course had no such worries of the dark but what about her? He could just hear his brothers mockery about how hypnotized by him she probably was, "Honestly brother what do you think she will taste like?~"

Despite his emotional confusion he placed a smirk on his face, leaning back, and taking a sip from the wine glass cradled in between his fingers, "She is rather spirited and I believe pure as well. A rarity. It did not take much to have her wrapped around my finger, brother, but you are well aware of what I am capable of." The smirk forced on his lips grew as he spoke, “I believe this time that the game shall be won by me. My bride to be will be easy to please~”

Gered chuckled from his place closest to the flames, "We shall certainly see. I cannot wait to see how this game will come to a close... of course, we shall see how our lovely ladies stack up when the time comes to evaluate."

Carthus was back to his teasing, leaning forward to make a point of it, "I cannot wait to see the look on her face when she finds out what you really are in her last moments of life." It caused him to pause. What would she think of him regardless of the outcome? No mortal had survived to tell others about the brothers. They usually lasted a few months once the wedding vows were finished.

He cleared his throat to respond to his brother’s rather sadistic humor, "Oh it will be quite sweet I assure you." The three laughed in unison as they toasted to their manipulative vice, “Their faces are always precious right before you devour them~" If he was honest he did not even remember most of them. They were a meal and nothing more. Those blue eyes, however, stuck with him even now.

The following day he would meet with her again though the visit was more of a surprise to her. He found her lounging beneath the shade of an old tree and drawing silently. A few sticks of charcoal were scattered about the lush grasses at her feet.

He put on his best smile as he drew a single red rose from his coat pocket and dangled it in front of her sight, "Good morning my dear one."

She blinked in surprise, that soft flush painting her cheeks, "Good morning. You took me by surprise for a moment. I am overjoyed to see you again so soon." Truly she never felt so affectionate toward another before. Her smile only grew when he took a seat beside her, "As am I my dear, I simply could not wait to see you once more."

Though her joy was genuine she still retained doubts in her mind. The idea of an arranged union was not one that usually ended happily. She gently set her book aside as she smiled at him sadly, "Is such a thing true? I wish for you to be honest with me and I shall do the same.”

Red inclined his head for a moment before brushing his fingers over the soft, cool skin of her shoulder only to find a strand of long auburn hair to toy with, "I am being honest with you my dear, that certainly seems an odd request. Do you think I am only telling you sweet words that you expect to hear?" That was exactly what he was supposed to be doing.

Frisk looked out over the water as her pink lips curled upward. A smile but one filled with sadness. He had rarely seen such an expression on such a pretty face before, “I apologize. I must keep a healthy skepticism. My heart flutters when you are near and yet it feels too good to be true.” Maybe that was because it was.

How to assuage her concerns? He truly did not know how to do so since he was the root of the deception, "Ahh I see." His back came to rest on the tree behind him as he made himself more comfortable, "I can see why... to potentially find one that we belong with. It's an amazing feeling I think. It truly feels as if nothing else matters."

The look still painted on her face gave off that aura of doubt. He could usually sweet-talk his way out of anything but she was far too sharp to fall too easily for his floral language and sweet promises. Her eyes now remained trained on the ground, “I fear I do not deserve something so wonderful.”

A comment like that shocked him. It was baffling, "why ever not my dear?" Curiosity swam within his eyes as he moved to tilt her chin up. What a sweet and pretty thing she was, so fragile and yet so strong at the same time.

“I am cursed for what runs in my blood is dark. A power unnatural and forbidden.”

A curious response, "Oh? What might that be my dear?" Forbidden? Dark? Unnatural? What could she possibly harbor that would lead her to believe that she deserved ill-fortune? The irony was that he was the worst omen she could have possibly received.

Her lips parted as she kept her attention on her betrothed, letting the word linger on the soft breeze that lifted her hair, “magic.”

A mortal with access to magic? A mage? A witch? She was rare indeed in more ways than he originally anticipated. Perhaps that was why he had been drawn to her, "Magic?" His tone housed a sufficient amount of curiosity and he wondered if now he had to be more careful. If the power of the mages slept within her blood then even his own abilities may not work on her.

She nodded softly, “Yes. It’s a part of me and it feels right and beautiful but... it’s known as something evil.” A lie she had been told nearly the entirety of her life.

As an immortal being infected by dark magic himself he knew that all too well. His past was far from joyous, "Magic.. is one of those things people will..." He sighed pulling her closer to him. How much would he be able to tell her without implicating his rather... bloodthirsty condition? She deserved some form of comfort, "The things that people do not fully understand become a threat. Even if such a thing is no more harmful than the smallest butterfly.”

He truly understood her even better than she could have hoped, “Something that they do not understand they seek to destroy or punish. Even something frightening does not mean it is evil or has ill intentions.” Her eyes fluttered open as her hands began to glow softly, when she opened them there was a small illuminated blue flower nestled in the center of her palm.

He smiled, letting a gentle finger stroke one of the magical petals, "Magic can be beautiful... It can be deadly. It is like a sword. It depends upon how you use it."

Her cheeks darkened further as he spoke, "That is what I believe as well. It is hard to try and hide who I truly am. I fear no one would understand or be afraid of me. It's why no one truly knows but when I am around you I feel as though I can speak my truth. Forgive me."

His hands reached for hers closing them around that luminescent blossom, "There is no need for forgiveness my dear. You need not hide anything of yourself from me. For I hide nothing from you." He smiled at her. Why did he care what she thought?

She scooted a little closer to him as his arm came to wrap around her as he held her closer to him. That gentle breeze soothed her as she enjoyed the afternoon. He would be able to feel how much joy she got from just being in his company, "I have been very lucky. Perhaps this is not a curse after all.”

He had a desire to say more but he kept his words simple, comforting, “Of course it is not. It is a natural part of you that should be nurtured not diminished. You shall never have to fear such judgment from me.” For I am something far worse.

Frisk rested her head gently against his shoulder feeling free from whatever chains kept her prisoner before, “I know. No one has ever looked at me the way you do it’s...” She toyed with the hands resting in her lap, “Nice to know you accept me for who I am.”

He smiled. "Of course I will Frisk. You are quite wonderful.”

She rested there in silence with him. It was so peaceful and all the following days were the same. They both began to know each other better just by speaking their minds. She even practiced some magic when they were alone so that she no longer lived in fear of it.

When the day of the wedding arrived everything seemed to go by smoothly. She had been nervous at first but the moment she said "I do" he could see it was one of the happiest moments of her life.

In the depths of his mind, he thought it was the dumbest choice she could ever have made, but his face remained with an overjoyed smile, exactly what was expected.

Even...perhaps...

When he pulled her toward him for the kiss that would seal their vows, he felt something. This was far more than just a childish game of superiority. She could be different and then this wretched cycle could end.

Until death do us part

There was only one problem...

Death... had already parted them…

#undertale #sans x frisk #frans #underfell #vampire prompt #writing #drabble #part 1 #quick little thing #Welcome to the Underworld #WTU #red x frisk #It feels good to write for the OTP #vampire sans #gothic #edited #curious how this returns...I wonder why~

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thetypedwriter · 4 years

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Imaginary Friend Book Review

Imaginary Friend by Stephen Chbosky Book Review

This is undoubtedly the weirdest book I have ever read.

You might be thinking… but, thetypedwriter you read fanfiction! This can’t be the weirdest thing you’ve ever read! Things like ABO universes exist!

You would think that, wouldn’t you?

But no.

I shall endeavor to give you a spoiler free synopsis of the book first followed by my thoughts and criticism, but note that this is an endeavor for a reason. I have now explained this novel in depth to two different people, and both times I have found myself completely and irrevocably stuck on how to even begin, let alone end.

With that forewarning, here we go.

The novel surrounds a single mother and her young son moving to a small Pennsylvania town in order to escape the tragedies of their past that include the passing of her husband and her current abusive boyfriend.

However, while things in their new home start out well-they find solutions to unemployment, poverty, the son’s dyslexia, etc, things start to go awry when Christopher, the son, is lured into the Mission Street Woods at the edge of town by a voice only he seems to be able to hear.

As Christopher continues to listen to the voice in the form of a cloud, or a plastic bag, or even inside of his mind, he starts recruiting his friends to build a treehouse in the woods that will transport him to a different time and place. The voice, lovingly called the Nice Man, instructs him to finish the tree house by Christmas Day.

Or else everyone will die.

As Christopher struggles with newfound powers and responsibilities, coping with two different worlds, his mother struggles with her son’s sanity, the town struggles with anger, blame, and temptation, and what follows is the chaotic descent of a small town into the throes of good versus evil, love and loss, and most importantly, trying to differentiate what is real versus what is imaginary.

In the simplest terms possible (a facetious statement if there ever was one), I thought this was going to be a thriller mystery book about a single mother and her young seven-year-old son Christopher leaving their home and her abhorrent abusive boyfriend in order to start a new life with hope and potential.

And it….is?

But it doesn’t stop there. Chbosky crams so many genres, themes, motifs, and messages into this book that when you think about it, it’s unsurprising that it’s over 700 pages long with the tiniest, most miniscule font I have ever had to squint at.

However, make no mistakes like I did, this book is horror.

Yup. You read that right folks, horror.

To preface, and I might have mentioned this in another post for another book at some point, but I vehemently dislike horror of any kind. This extends to books, movies, shows, etc.

I understand that horror is a great joy and pleasure for a vast amount of people and that it contains its own literary merit, tropes, and rules, and I can appreciate that for what it is from afar, but I personally take very little enjoyment from consuming anything horror related (I apologize to all the Stephen King fans out there in the world).

I did not fully realize the extent to which this book was a true horror.

This is entirely my own fault. I was very much blinded by the rosy colored glasses from college when I first read The Perks of Being a Wallflower, Chbosky’s first and only other novel.

Perks is wonderful. It is a tragic, yet fundamentally hopeful and loving bildungsroman that shows the beauty and the pain of growing up and accepting yourself. The movie with Emma Watson is what dreams are made of.

I committed author fraud when I picked up Imaginary Friend based on the pure speculation that I would most likely like it since he had written Perks, a book I adored as both a reader and a teacher.

I’ve warned readers against this in the past, but it seems like I should have taken my own advice: just because an author has written one good book or one book you like, does not automatically mean you will like their second book, or any of their other books for that matter.

This cannot possibly ring more true for Stephen Chbosky, as not only are his two books completely different in narrative and structure, but also vastly different in genre and purpose.

I should have stuck with my gut and realized that I probably wouldn’t like this book based off the synopsis, the genre, and yes, even the cover (it looks scary to me, okay?), but I said noooooo, it’s Chbosky, you have to read it!

And this is where we ended up.

First of all, I didn’t hate the book.

I can recognize that it is extremely well written, well crafted, and well developed. I can enjoy a slew of characters, and oh boy are there a multitude to pick from, and I can give credit where credit is due.

Chbosky is a talented writer. There is no doubt in my mind about this. The way he crafts words, the way he plays with texture and space, and with fonts and sizes, is nothing less of sheer brilliance.

He undoubtedly is also masterful at motifs, foreshadowing, and symbolism. Notably, there were so many recurring objects, colors, metaphors, and so on that were sprinkled out so consecutively and intentionally throughout the novel-some I didn’t even pick up until the end-that I was left reeling from how immensely talented and brilliant he is.

Things like his use of baby teeth, blue moon, and fogs/clouds/mist struck me in particular. I know this seems like gibberish, but Chbosky truly came across as understanding what he wanted to portray and how he wanted to deliver it.

However, the biggest compliment I can give to Chbosky is the sheer magnitude of his imagination and creativity. This book almost overwhelmed me through the use of ideas and concepts I had never really thought of before.

Alternate dimensions? Check.

Supernatural powers? Check.

Incredible use of diction and figurative language? Check and check.

Chbosky had so many wild and tantalizing beautiful turns of phrases, expressions, and descriptions that it left me with the same sort of gasping epiphany that Maggie Steifvater’s writing always leaves me with, the feelings that writing can be so utterly beautiful and compelling, that it can be all-consuming as well as never ending with its potential to stun, to create, and to warp to unique needs and purposes.

It definitely was a reading experience quite like any other I’ve had.

Be that because of the horror genre or because of Chbosky’s odd, yet addicting writing style and this has definitely become a book that left me more than a bit dumbfounded. Although I’ve sung its praises and admitted to my own faults at this point, this book isn’t without flaws.

To me the horror genre itself is just not my cup of tea like I’ve stated. Strike number one.

Second, the book was...abysmally long. Atrociously long. As I’ve also said before, I do not mind large books. In fact, big books when you’re reading something you love is a true blessing. Finding that fanfiction at 3am that hooks you immediately and you look up to see its 300k? Amazing.

Starting a new book series that you fall in love with body and soul and realize you have several installments left in the series to gorge and devour? Ecstasy.

Sloughing through a single book that starts to drag on and on repetitiously for what seems like forever? Borderline hell.

This book could have been 300 pages shorter and still contained everything Chbosky wanted to accomplish. It could have had the same brilliant writing, messages, and motifs, but without all of the never-ending back and forth between worlds and battles that just kept popping up time and time again. The abominable length considering its content is strike two.

Last, the ending was a bit of a cluster. At this point in the novel, so much is going on, you are being exposed to so many pov’s that it’s almost stress-inducing, and events taking place are cataclysmic and 10/10 on drama. Chbosky bit off more than he could chew here.

The book choked itself at the end, which, after reading for 700 pages is not the feeling you want to have. The ending left me befuddled, disappointed, and also bereft of a conclusive end and explanation for the shitstorm that had just rained down. It was not the ending I wanted, could understand, or could even really grasp. Strike three.

This book has a plethora of merits followed by three enormous criticisms. If you like horror, then you’ve already crossed hurdle number one. If you can accept it’s repellant length (let alone have days upon days of free time to actually ingest said behemoth) then that’s hurdle number two.

Hurdle three is up to you. Perhaps you would like the ending where as I found it lacking in structure, content, and answers. I like my endings tied up with neat little bows. I don’t like to be left thinking...hmmmm what does this mean?

If I am going to read your massive book, I deserve an ending that satisfies the journey. Authors telling readers that it’s up for interpretation makes me want to strangle something. It comes across as enormously pretentious to me and oftentimes lazy.

In the case of Chbosky, I think he had given himself so many loose threads that the neat little bow I desired was next to impossible.

So he didn’t even try.

Score: 6/10

Recommendation: If you love The Shining, are lacking bouts of creativity and imagination, have lots of free time during Quarantine, and don’t mind having an Inception-esque ending where you might not get all the answers you want, while being tasked with concocting it for yourself, Imaginary Friend might be your new best friend.

Bonus: Here’s a pic of my kitty photo bombing this book shoot. Hope she brightens your day!

#imaginary friend #stephen chbosky #perks of being a wallflower #horror #horror book #stephen king #the shining #literature #books #book blog #book review #book rec #Book Recommendations #book reflection #book analysis #popular fiction #top books #booklover #book

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thestreamofconsciousness777 · 3 years

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The sinners will be finished off from the earth and as for the wicked, they will be no longer. Raise your hands in holiness and bless Jehovah. May Jehovah bless you out of Zion, He the Maker of heaven and earth...

And I saw an angel coming down out of heaven with the key of the abyss and a great chain in his hand. And he seized the dragon, the original serpent, who is the Devil and Satan, and bound him for a thousand years. And he hurled him into the abyss and shut [it] and sealed [it] over him, that he might not mislead the nations anymore until the thousand years were ended. After these things he must be let loose for a little while.

And I saw thrones, and there were those who sat down on them, and power of judging was given them. Yes, I saw the souls of those executed with the ax for the witness they bore to Jesus and for speaking about God, and those who had worshiped neither the wild beast nor its image and who had not received the mark upon their forehead and upon their hand. And they came to life and ruled as kings with the Christ for a thousand years. (The rest of the dead did not come to life until the thousand years were ended.) This is the first resurrection. Happy and holy is anyone having part in the first resurrection; over these the second death has no authority, but they will be priests of God and of the Christ, and will rule as kings with him for the thousand years.

Now as soon as the thousand years have been ended, Satan will be let loose out of his prison, and he will go out to mislead those nations in the four corners of the earth, Gog and Ma’gog, to gather them together for the war. The number of these is as the sand of the sea. And they advanced over the breadth of the earth and encircled the camp of the holy ones and the beloved city. But fire came down out of heaven and devoured them. And the Devil who was misleading them was hurled into the lake of fire and sulphur, where both the wild beast and the false prophet [already were]; and they will be tormented day and night forever and ever.

And I saw a great white throne and the one seated on it. From before him the earth and the heaven fled away, and no place was found for them. And I saw the dead, the great and the small, standing before the throne, and scrolls were opened. But another scroll was opened; it is the scroll of life. And the dead were judged out of those things written in the scrolls according to their deeds. And the sea gave up those dead in it, and death and Ha’des gave up those dead in them, and they were judged individually according to their deeds. And death and Ha’des were hurled into the lake of fire. This means the second death, the lake of fire. Furthermore, whoever was not found written in the book of life was hurled into the lake of fire.

And I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the former heaven and the former earth had passed away, and the sea is no more. I saw also the holy city, New Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God and prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. With that I heard a loud voice from the throne say: “Look! The tent of God is with mankind, and he will reside with them, and they will be his peoples. And God himself will be with them. And he will wipe out every tear from their eyes, and death will be no more, neither will mourning nor outcry nor pain be anymore. The former things have passed away.”

And the One seated on the throne said: “Look! I am making all things new.” Also, he says: “Write, because these words are faithful and true.” And he said to me: “They have come to pass! I am the Al’pha and the O·me’ga, the beginning and the end. To anyone thirsting I will give from the fountain of the water of life free. Anyone conquering will inherit these things, and I shall be his God and he will be my son. But as for the cowards and those without faith and those who are disgusting in their filth and murderers and fornicators and those practicing spiritism and idolaters and all the liars, their portion will be in the lake that burns with fire and sulphur. This means the second death.”

And there came one of the seven angels who had the seven bowls which were full of the seven last plagues, and he spoke with me and said: “Come here, I will show you the bride, the Lamb’s wife.” So he carried me away in [the power of the] spirit to a great and lofty mountain, and he showed me the holy city Jerusalem coming down out of heaven from God and having the glory of God. Its radiance was like a most precious stone, as a jasper stone shining crystal-clear. It had a great and lofty wall and had twelve gates, and at the gates twelve angels, and names were inscribed which are those of the twelve tribes of the sons of Israel. On the east were three gates, and on the north three gates, and on the south three gates, and on the west three gates. The wall of the city also had twelve foundation stones, and on them the twelve names of the twelve apostles of the Lamb.

Now the one who was speaking with me was holding as a measure a golden reed, that he might measure the city and its gates and its wall. And the city lies foursquare, and its length is as great as its breadth. And he measured the city with the reed, twelve thousand furlongs; its length and breadth and height are equal. Also, he measured its wall, one hundred and forty-four cubits, according to a man’s measure, at the same time an angel’s. Now the structure of its wall was jasper, and the city was pure gold like clear glass. The foundations of the city’s wall were adorned with every sort of precious stone: the first foundation was jasper, the second sapphire, the third chal·ced’o·ny, the fourth emerald, the fifth sar’do·nyx, the sixth sardius, the seventh chrys’o·lite, the eighth beryl, the ninth topaz, the tenth chrys’o·prase, the eleventh hyacinth, the twelfth amethyst. Also, the twelve gates were twelve pearls; each one of the gates was made of one pearl. And the broad way of the city was pure gold, as transparent glass.

And I did not see a temple in it, for Jehovah God the Almighty is its temple, also the Lamb [is]. And the city has no need of the sun nor of the moon to shine upon it, for the glory of God lighted it up, and its lamp was the Lamb. And the nations will walk by means of its light, and the kings of the earth will bring their glory into it. And its gates will not be closed at all by day, for night will not exist there. And they will bring the glory and the honor of the nations into it. But anything not sacred and anyone that carries on a disgusting thing and a lie will in no way enter into it; only those written in the Lamb’s scroll of life [will].

And he showed me a river of water of life, clear as crystal, flowing out from the throne of God and of the Lamb down the middle of its broad way. And on this side of the river and on that side [there were] trees of life producing twelve crops of fruit, yielding their fruits each month. And the leaves of the trees [were] for the curing of the nations.

And no more will there be any curse. But the throne of God and of the Lamb will be in [the city], and his slaves will render him sacred service; and they will see his face, and his name will be on their foreheads. Also, night will be no more, and they have no need of lamplight nor [do they have] sunlight, because Jehovah God will shed light upon them, and they will rule as kings forever and ever.

And he said to me: “These words are faithful and true; yes, Jehovah the God of the inspired expressions of the prophets sent his angel forth to show his slaves the things that must shortly take place. And, look! I am coming quickly. Happy is anyone observing the words of the prophecy of this scroll.”

Well, I John was the one hearing and seeing these things. And when I had heard and seen, I fell down to worship before the feet of the angel that had been showing me these things. But he tells me: “Be careful! Do not do that! All I am is a fellow slave of you and of your brothers who are prophets and of those who are observing the words of this scroll. Worship God.”

He also tells me: “Do not seal up the words of the prophecy of this scroll, for the appointed time is near. He that is doing unrighteousness, let him do unrighteousness still; and let the filthy one be made filthy still; but let the righteous one do righteousness still, and let the holy one be made holy still.

“‘Look! I am coming quickly, and the reward I give is with me, to render to each one as his work is. I am the Al’pha and the O·me’ga, the first and the last, the beginning and the end. Happy are those who wash their robes, that the authority [to go] to the trees of life may be theirs and that they may gain entrance into the city by its gates. Outside are the dogs and those who practice spiritism and the fornicators and the murderers and the idolaters and everyone liking and carrying on a lie.’

“‘I, Jesus, sent my angel to bear witness to YOU people of these things for the congregations. I am the root and the offspring of David, and the bright morning star.’”

And the spirit and the bride keep on saying: “Come!” And let anyone hearing say: “Come!” And let anyone thirsting come; let anyone that wishes take life’s water free.

“I am bearing witness to everyone that hears the words of the prophecy of this scroll: If anyone makes an addition to these things, God will add to him the plagues that are written in this scroll; and if anyone takes anything away from the words of the scroll of this prophecy, God will take his portion away from the trees of life and out of the holy city, things which are written about in this scroll.

“He that bears witness of these things says, ‘Yes; I am coming quickly.’” “Amen! Come, Lord Jesus.”

[May] the undeserved kindness of the Lord Jesus Christ [be] with the holy ones.”

-Revelation 20-22, NWT

CARRYING ON A LIE: Unicorns, Narcissists, and Hillsong Worship (It’s NOT That Deep)

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anastasiaenache003 · 3 years

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Killer Queen

Summary: A mysterious killer walks anonimously on the streets of London. A young woman and a young man meet at the restaurant.

“Caviar and cigarettes

Well versed in etiquette

Extraordinarly nice

She’s a Killer Queen”

Word count: 3,5k

Warnings: mentions of death

The last beams of sunlight hit the white wooden bedside table through the half-open curtains, revealing an elegant dark-brown revolver and a pair of burgundy velvet gloves. The room remains silent for a few solid minutes before something shifts in the background- the bathroom door creaked open, echoing in the empty apartment. Barely-heard footsteps approach the light-gray wardrobe, as well as an unknown female silhouette. Long and thin fingers linger over the silky fabric of the pale-blue jumpsuite, then move on to the woolen knitted beige sweater and the cashmere mini-skirt. These could have made a great clothing choice the other day, but today, she needs to shine in the limelight; today, each and every eye must watch and admire her.

Her gaze falls upon a cocktail silk wine dress with golden embroideries alongside the shoulder line. She gently takes it out of the grand wardrobe and carefully places it on top of the bed as she wanders her eyes upon it: delicate, yet sensual off-shoulder collar, narrow middle that would clearly bring out her slim figure and a flamboyant fluffy skirt that goes just bellow the ankle. "Perfect!" she thinks. The woman then proceeds to the right corner of the room- she keeps her Moet and Chandon in her pretty cabinet. She takes out a tiny bottle and pours herself a little champagne in the glass, just to calm down her nerves a bit and to set the mood for the following evening. The champagne bubbles tickle her tongue, then her throat, until a calming heat envelopes her chest. "What a feeling", she barely whispers, "to drink from a vintage bottle of Moet... Why can't they serve it in each and every restaurant? Ah, screw them all!" she adds as she puts the glass down on the cabinet and then says, haughtily:" Let them eat cake!", just like Mary Antoinette.

* * * * *

The old horologe strikes seven times, announcing the departure time for our mistress, as little "clicks" of a pair of onyx high-heels echo in the large hotel hall, lightened only by the orange streetlight. Luckily for the young lady, the hall is suspiciously empty for such an early hour, for it usually would have been crowded with new guests, chit-chatting all the way round. Soon, the elevator takes the woman downstairs, where awaits her another „prey", as she likes to call her clients.

The lobby was, in contrast to the floor hall, packed to the fullest with different sorts of people, creating a light noise: clerks, bussinessmen, simple voyageurs and old but rich gentlemen and ladies, everyone seems to be extremely focused and to have an extremely important thing to talk about with the hotel staff. However, as soon as she appears in the doorway, a white fur coat on her shoulders, the noise muffles and each eye focuses in her direction, devouring her each gracious movement. Of course everybody knew her and what she was doing, and yet some things still remained unknown to the public eye. In the local press, she was commonly recalled as a „built-in remedy for Khrushchev and Kennedy"; her "exquisite and specific" way to solve things has always been thrilling the audience, but something was stopping the journalists to intrude in her personal life, something only a handful of people knew, but were never going to talk about.

This evening, she was expecting a special "guest". She has been told, by the company she has been working for, to expect, at any time of the week, an invitation she couldn't decline, from a well-known wealthy young man. A table for two had been set in the farthest corner of the luxurious restaurant, creating a quite intimate atmosphere to chat: the candle-light was coloring the surroundings with a warm reddish light, as the table was enclosed by thin silky curtains, secluding it from the rest of the restaurant.

* * * * * *

The young man had arrived, as he should, a few minutes earlier than our precious lady. As a matter of good service, he has been served with an aperitif consisting of black caviar tartelettes and, upon his wish, a packet of one of the most expensive cigarettes. As he blew the smoke through his half-open lips, he was peering at the hotel guests, wondering about yet another of his illegal affairs- the perks of being the head of an extremely dangerous Yakuza syndicate. He was breathing dollars while golden coins were running through his veins right to his little black-haired head. He carefully ran his fingers across the pocket knife case he was carrying in one of his jacket's pockets; just in case, he always thought. He tried to hide as much as possible his true identity, and yet he liked to be precautious.

This was his first time ever travelling to London, so he decided to have a day off his dangerous and complicated duties, preferring to spend it as he would love to. That included spending a night with a rather outrageous and beautiful woman. As from what his closest friends have claimed to know, this was the hotel where a mysterious and extremely good-looking young lady chose to stay at from time to time. They said he would recognize her immediately, so he didn't ask for further explanation. It was a bit strange of him not to do a full research about the person he was about to meet; this time, he felt like it was of no use. He just wanted to relax, once in a while. What could a charming young lady do to him? How could she possibly harm him?

* * * * * * *

10 minutes later than the client, that was the no.1 rule for her. No matter what, she had to wait for 10 minutes before making contact with her customer. She'd stopped by the bar and ordered a glass of champagne and while sipping it, she had been revising the fastidious plan she'd got in her head. Standard procedures, for about half-an-hour, a brief moment of relaxation and then...

Suddenly, she spotted him in the furthest corner of the restaurant, half-hidden by the silk curtains. She didn't mistake him for somebody else, it was clearly the person she'd been told about. It seemed he noticed her too. Slowly, she climbed off the bar stool, picked her golden sparkling clutch and made her way to the unknown man. The clock on the wall was showing 19:20.

As she approached him, she took in his features: he must have been in his mid-thirties, considerably wealthy and even a bit handsome. When he firstly spoke to her, she was slightly taken aback by him being so well versed in etiquette: he kissed her hand, then he offered her a seat at the table, not forgetting to constantly compliment her about her astonishing (if that wasn't true) appearance tonight. However stunned she might have seemed, she managed to exquisitely return the favor, behaving extraordinarily nice towards the young man. She asked him questions about himself, about his job, about what he was pursuing during his short visit in London, which was just a time-killer technique. Soon, they were sharing a bottle of mid-18th century red wine, showing apparent signs of mutual attraction towards each other while chit-chatting about every possible subject.

* * * * * *

"I've been told that this beautiful town is home to a terrific and mysterious killer who loves torturing his victims in some "specific" ways. Is it true, kitten?" asked the man with hints of suspicion in his dark black eyes. The young lady looked him straight into the eyes and replied with a cocky smile on her lips:

" Well, she's a Killer Queen indeed! All gunpowder and gelatine, some still wonder if she uses dynamite with a laser beam to kill her victims..." she added half-joking while sipping her wine.

"It is a she, then?" he smiled. "I definitely wouldn't have thought that a town like London could be terrorized by a... young lady, maybe just like you- "

"Don't judge a book by its cover, the saying says" she sharply answered. "The rumors are still valid, and once you met her, she's guaranteed to blow your mind. Anytime" she accentuated the last word on purpose.

"Touché!" the young man exclaimed and took another sip from his glass. "But still, from what I heard, she's supposed to work as an extravagant and luxurious courtesan, in order to... you know... attract her clientele or whatsoever. How do the papers say? Recommended at the price, insatiable an appetite-".

"Wanna try?" she finished, gazing in the distance, clearly having remembered something which made her lost in her thoughts for a couple of minutes. He noticed it and, not wanting to disturb the moment, relaxed into the cushions, lightened another cigarette and sat with closed eyes, smoking from time to time. The restaurant was now half-empty, so the music could be heard clearer in the nocturnal silence.

"What's the tune they're playing right now?" he suddenly asked. "I don't remember hearing it."

"It's My Melancholy Blues" she breathed out. "An old but a good one. Haven't heard it in ages!"

"I think it's beautiful..." he whispered, looking up at the ceiling and blowing the smoke in the air. "Shall we go upstairs, kitten? It's almost too late, and this place is about to close its doors. Plus, we'll be able to continue our acquaintance in a more intimate atmosphere, don't you think so?" he added after a few seconds, louder this time.

"Then what are we waiting for?" she smiled coyly. "Finally! It took you ages to say that", she thought to herself. Without waiting for his response, she headed to the grand elevators who would take them up to the luxurious apartment she was staying in. "Don't worry, my dear", she purred in his ear as the doors closed, "I promise I will make this night unforgettable for both of us! The best is yet to come..."

* * * * * *

"You know, I do resonate at some level with this enigmatic killer lady we've been talking about downstairs" the young woman started as she stepped out of the steamy bathroom.

"Like... how? Don't tell me you're a killer too!" the man laughed. "It would be so pathetic for me not to have noticed it in advance! But I must admit, you really don't look like one, to be honest..."

"Like I told you before, don't judge a book by its cover. Appearances might lie", she spoke as she put on her white bathrobe. The view from the floor-to-ceiling window in her room was spectacular: night-time London, sparkling with infinite colorful lights of the Christmas decorations, and a thin moon in the dark-grey sky, still covered by solitary clouds.

"Oh, so I must be precautious with you, kitten?" the man spoke with a husky voice.

"Like I said, I do resonate at some level with the killer woman" she repeated while pouring herself some water in an empty glass.

"I'm all ears to hear your story, kitten".

She looked him up and down with hooded eyes. "Glad it will be the last you hear tonight", she thought.

"So, as you might have already known, the lady preferred, in order to avoid complications, to never have the same address. Never in her whole life. That's where our first common thing pops up: I'm a runaway since the age of eighteen, so I constantly change place in order not to, you know, get caught..."

"Can I ask you who do you run away from?" the man propped his head on the elbows, curiously.

"It's a prohibited topic that only a handful of people get to know about me" she cut him. "Oh, don't be so fucking ridiculous! Don't act like you don't remember at all that night! We both know you're not that innocent!" she shouted in her mind. "Anyway, the young lady didn't meet any problems with finding herself a new and secure place. Among people, she was known as a rather well-educated person, with an exquisite sense of modesty, intelligence and natural beauty. In conversation, she spoke just like a baroness, which gave her a carte-blanche in her relationships with some quite wealthy people-".

"Well, here I can't complain, you spoke indeed like a baroness at the restaurant. My fair lady..." he continued, "I can only bet that you're well known among the London royalty..." he wondered, looking at her with admirative eyes. She returned the look and sat closer to him on the edge of the bed.

"However, there is a point where our destinies do separate, you know?" she stated, caressing his jawline. "One day, she met a man from China. A gorgeous young Chinese man who she fell in love with instantly. Then, she went down to Geisha Minah, one of her closest friends, in order to get a sort of prediction of her future with this man" she continued her idea. He was listening to her carefully and attentively, watching every move of her lips as she talked, the changing light in her green eyes, the way the warm light from the bedside lamp was creating unique shadows on her beautiful face. He tried to kiss her, but was suddenly shushed: "Wrong decision, to be honest", she whispered, probably referring both to his unsuccessful attempt and to the storyline. "Eventually, she got upset, a feeling which grew into anger as she found out later that her dear friend and her "future" husband have been seeing each other for quite a long time behind her back. Being both a vulnerable and an explosive type of person, she decided to end the things fast."

"She killed them?" the man asked.

"The geisha's corpse was found near a river. In fact, pieces of her corpse. Some of them, probably the upper-half of the body, were locally skinned. Terrible view, not gonna lie" she told him.

"Oh... that's... I can't even find words to say something...It's... sadistic, evil!" he tried to find the right words. "Wait, and what about the poor guy? Had she done something to him?" he asked, nervously.

"She'd decided that his time hasn't come yet; maybe it was the simple fact that she still loved him and that there was a slight chance that she'd forgive him. But I tend to think that she wanted to leave him for a better moment to get her full rage on him", the lady hummed.

The young man fell silent for a few moments before he asked: "And why, may I ask, she became a serial killer? If the problem was only between her and these two people?"

She stood up and went to her white wooden cabinet. As she was rummaging through it, she spoke again, with a darker tone than before:" I haven't finished the story yet." The room fell silent once again, this time for a longer period of time, the silence being interrupted only by the cars roaring in the distance and her barely-audible humming of a childish song. "Then again incidentally/ If you're that way inclined..."

The tension was now growing heavy; it appeared that sparks of electricity would burst out of the air if someone dared to speak. Suddenly, the man's gaze fell upon the bedside table where the dark brown revolver had been laying. With a questioned look, he turned to our dear lady and asked her about it, already breathing heavily and starting to question what was going on in this room. Her response was quite of unusual one: she turned around, a huge grin spread over her face and eyes looking up and down the poor man's figure. "I told you that the story isn't finished yet", she teased.

She took a few steps closer to the bed and finally revealed what she was hiding behind her back.

"A scarf? Why on earth would you...?" he began but didn't manage to finish his sentence, as her hand pushed him down onto the mattress. She gently put a finger on his lips and mouthed a "relax" while hovering over him. "Let me take good care of you", she purred as she started tying his wrists together with her silky red scarf. Not knowing what to expect, the man decided, however, to relax into her touch and soon he felt hypnotized by her perfume, coming, naturally, from Paris.

"This young lady wasn't interested in cars. She couldn't care less about them" she suddenly admitted while tying the knot.

"Why did you say that?", he whispered.

"Just remembered", she muttered. "A funny detail that always made me laugh, even in such moments like this one", she admitted, laughing. "Okay, now that we're done here, I demand you to close your eyes", her words were now barely audible, yet so sensually pronounced that the man obliged immediately.

"There you go, sweetheart", she smiled to herself, "I found you, after all this time!"

She climbed off top of him, just in order to get her elegant revolver from the bedside table. She took a few seconds to admire it, especially her little artwork on its left side: "Fastidious and precise". Exactly how she was going to act next.

"Drop of a hat she's as willing as// Playful as a pussy cat// Then momentarily out of action//Temporarily out of gas//To absolutely drive you wild, wild", she hummed as she loaded the gun. Fastidious. She bended over the man like a feline. Having noticed the strange sound, he suddenly opened his eyes and, with a shocked look, stared at the revolver in her hand. She stopped and looked back at his puzzled expression, grinning cockily. "What's wrong, sweetheart? Are you not happy to see me? Oh, say something, otherwise I might think you aren't really excited to meet me.", she punctuated the last words, purring in his ear," You know that if I don't hear a word from that pretty mouth of yours, I might get really, really sad", she spat. "And you won't like it, at all".

He would have loved to say something, but the shock was still blocking all his body muscles. "What's wrong, sweetie? Cat got your tongue?", she asked him, innocently.

Something in her voice made something click in his mind. "It's you...", were the only words he managed to form. "The mysterious London killer... It was you, all this fucking time! How haven't I noticed it from the beginning? Oh, what a fool!", he half-shouted in desperation. All this time, she was watching him, all beaming with the anticipation: her pupils were extremely dilated, her cheeks got a hint of rose, but her breathing was still pretty stable. Precise.

"The story hasn't got an ending", she whispered, positioning her revolver at his temple. "Yet".

Primal fear could be seen in his dark eyes as he felt the cold gunpoint poking in his head. A drop of sweat ran down his forehead as he was shaking with fear.

"Any last words?", she looked him straight into the eyes.

"I just wish you would be killed as ruthlessly and mercilessly as you did with your victims... Bitch!", he growled with anger.

"Say hi to Minah from her dear best friend", she spat, disgusted.

Gunshot. Silently as possible. The blood instantly covered the pillows, as well as the remains of his brain. "Gross", she uttered. "Not the best way to die, I absolutely agree with you", she added, "but the ideal one for dogs like you".

She stood up from the bed, admired her another artwork for a few brief moments and then lifted the phone receiver from the cabinet.

"Office? Target successfully hit", she spoke with a metallic voice. The other side of the telephone went silent just after she finished her sentence. She put the receiver down and looked around, trying to compose her thoughts. The next thing she did was to dress in her casual clothes, a pair of jeans, a black t-shirt and a grey hoodie with a pair of old sneakers. The rest was meant to be left in the hotel room. She grabbed her suitcase, prepared in advance, and headed towards the exit door. Looking back once more at the dead corpse laying on the bed, she smiled. "Who waits the longest, gets the best", she said out loud, as if he could hear her, and disappeared silently in the dark hall.

* * * * * *

"The original victim of the London "Killer Queen" is now officially dead. Yoshito Takashi, aged 34, found dead in the Ritz hotel room where the killer is supposed to have stayed for a short period of time. Killed with only one silent shot from the vintage 1910s revolver, Takashi was found dead three days after the crime has been done. Further details are yet to be announced by the police. Further investigation will be held in the next days. The Ritz Hotel, one of the most famous hotels in London and Europe will be closed during the whole period of the investigation. The killer's whereabouts remain unknown."

* * * * * *

"Agent 303? A new target is waiting for you", the speaker stated with a plain voice.

"I'm ready. What am I supposed to do?", the lady asked, sipping her coffee.

*This is a fanfiction, a result of a song challenge that I found somewhere in mid-November and posted on Wattpad. I would like to “re-post” it here, so I could delete my Wattpad story( its format is just not for me, sorry). And no, it does not include any kind of mentions of the band members, it is just how I see the song:)

**It looks like I’ll be more and more active on Tumblr these days because I suddenly felt an urge to write...:)

#killer queen #queen fanfiction #song challenge #fanfic #fanfiction #oc fanfiction

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countryshitposts · 4 years

Text

You’re Shooting Your Bullet The Wrong Way

Chapter 1

AO3 Link

Death of a Bachelor

Trigger Warnings; murder, violence, blood

Name Guide

Nippon Koku- Japan

Teikoku Nippon- Japan Empire

Sulian- Soviet Union

Renmin- China

Choson Inmin- North Korea

Daehan Minguk- South Korea

Daehan Imsi- Korean Provisional Government

"Koku, our brother's calling us!" Koku lifts his head up from where he was loathing the words he had just typed on the keyboard, a small twinge of excitement in his face. He immediately closes the bright screen of the laptop and exits his bedroom, running down the long and winding stairs that he loved playing on when he was a sweer child, along with his older brother who'd accompany him.

He lands on the floors gracefully, seeing Teikoku staring at him with a huge smile on his face.

"Teikoku!", Koku exclaims, running towards his brother, laughing a little. He feels Tokyo's grimace from far away, giving him a sense of discomfort that will plague him for sometime before deciding that his brother is simply just jealous of the affection Teikoku gives to him.

(Sometimes he'd see the desolation in his children's eyes too; a spark of hope that Teikoku would move on from Koku so he could embrace them in such a filial way, and ocassionally, Koku would wonder why he wouldn't notice his own children.)

"How are you today?" Teikoku ruffles his hair and Koku - with a smile - protests against it.

"I'm fine, onii-chan!", he replies with a small laugh. "I'm finishing the latest chapter of the book I'm writing."

Teikoku chuckles, "Well, tell me if you're finished with the whole thing; I'd love to read it. But first let's have dinner, shall we? Manchukuo!" He calls onto his butler, who scuttles out of his room, all stumbling and awkward as he fixes his glasses.

(Koku thinks that Manchukuo should - say - be more prepared and look absolutely professional and impressionable, lest many think that their bodyguard... isn't a bodyguard and more like a chaperone who would read books and a cup of coffee in his spare time.)

"Yes, sir?", he stutters, causing Teikoku to frown up at him; Manchukuo fixes his tie and hair, leading it to become more dishevelled rather than kept, like a dog with fur sticking on their ends.

"Start the car. We're going to have dinner someplace else." Teikoku's tone was crisp- like he wanted to hit Manchukuo in front of everyone to humiliate him, showing how intolerant he is of his behaviour and the way he works. Manchukuo rapidly nods as he scampers towards the exit doors, Teikoku's eyes following him in an ill-mannered and impatient face; one second and he'll be shot at.

Koku smiles a little at Teikoku, whose frown turns upside down as he looks at his half-brother, the simplest speck of light in the cloud covered sky, reaching to the dark depths of the sea to pull out the orient pearl in the murky waters.

He looks at Koku brightly with a glint in his eyes, "Where would you like to have dinner, then?"

Koku shrugs, knowing full well that he's not fond of making decisions of his own. "Where do you want to go, Teikoku?"

Teikoku thinks for a moment before clicking his tongue. "There's this new restaurant that opened at the centre of the city; you'll adore it."

Koku nods, "And I trust your judgement."

("I don't", Tokyo whispers to Hokkaido, who hums affirmation, Koku barely catching their exchange before moving on.)

"Your ride is ready, sir", Manchukuo's head protudes from the front door, and Teikoku's mood immediately sours, already strutting to the doors, Koku and the others trying to catch up with his fast pace.

Manchukuo and Teikoku were busily talking - out of earshot - as Koku, Hokkaido and Tokyo busy tehmselves in the passenger seats (Okinawa sits on Hokkaido's lap, his half-brother steadying him).

He looks out the dark lenses of the windows, giving everything a much darker and subtle tone of sadness; from the evergreen shrubs Koku had planted years ago with his tiny hands, being helped by his brother as he works, turned to a much more darker shade of what has transpired.

The car ride was not annoyingly noisy to the ears nor unbearably silent- Manchukuo and Teikoku were making small talk in hushed voices, like a buzzing bee in Koku's ear thinking the small insect has hit jackpot before being swatted away by a large force. Okinawa was getting fussy on Hokkaido's lap, gurgling and wanting to be transferred towards Tokyo, who was silently reading, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, looking so much at peace.

Koku would sometimes envy at how... normal they seem to be around each other, like they are the best of friends who stick through even the most hardened times, and whenever they look at each other there was such understanding in their eyes, like they empathise in whatever way. And he remembers that whenever Teikoku arrives, they'd freeze up and halt their conversation, their eyes following after their own blood with fear, like he was a predator in their area full of prey. Like they were wary that Teikoku would turn his head to them with either a small smirk on his face, intent on humiliating them, or with an angry frown that'd mean it was the end of their world and he'd tear them apart until they were shreds of life.

They were awkward and wary around Koku too; a simple smile at their direction is enough to make them flinch or send them running to the other direction. Like he was Teikoku. Like he means harm and he needs harm to sustain his lifeline.

(He will never get why they are not fond of their own blood.)

So Koku sits in silence, grey eyes on the car's carpeted floors (credits to Teikoku).

Manchukuo parks the car in a spot where the sun never leaves them, always bothering them despite the fact it is being conquered by the moon and stars who wish to devour the light to make way for the darkness, and the dying sun forging its flames on the surface of the moon, mangled holes giving off the light the sun but weaker before it dies, and at twilight it rises back from the dead and the cycle continues.

"Ugh, the suns' reaching everywhere", Koku says as he exits the car, arm above his head and shades present underneath his eyes, the glaring light of the sun still escaping through the darkest filters of his innate boundary. "For a dying light against the sky, it's still annoyingly bright."

Teikoku laughs a little as he emerges from the car, "Don't worry, dinner's coming."

The brand new restaurant seems to be jam-packed, despite the fact that - according to Teikoku - it had just opened yesterday. Its huge windows reflect himself, his dark hair and pale complexion, striking gray eyes that looks through the reflections and into the thrums of people inside them; the people already comfortably seated on the seats around the tables, waiters and waitresses serving them their long-awaited dishes for the day, the chandelier above them glowing golden with its light bulbs looking more like waxed candles dancing with flames than inventions of electricity. It was enticing, and at the same time making Koku uncomfortable; for some reason he can never really be at peace with the notion of being in a place full of people, strangers- maybe it was because he only grew up knowing and getting used to only his family talking to him, so that talking to another person was now an act of force and a chore (although chores are much, much better than talking to a complete stranger).

Koku spent so much time admiring the place and daydreaming that he has - once again - built a glass dome, protecting himself from any disturbances that will disrupt his thought process and serenity, which can only be shattered like a vulnerable and pricey vase with one voice.

"Koku!", he feels a hand snake around his shoulders, and he jumps a little before instinctively calming down when he is faced with Teikoku's small smirk on his lips. "Daydreaming again, weren't you?"

Koku absently nods, his eyes turning back to the inside of the restaurant, its golden streaks of light looking much more realistic than it intends to be, making the whole venue all the more charming. "This place is beautiful."

Teikoku chuckles a little. "That it is- you want to go inside? I'd made a reservation a week ago."

"Of course I do!"

"Well then", Teikoku takes a step and Koku's feet follows, "let's go in, shall we?"

Once the door opens to let his family inside of the grandeur, he feels a rush of cool air collide with his warm cheeks, the scent of cooked food filling the air, jazz music playing from the speakers above them and small chatter reaching his ears. He hears the clinks of wine glasses and people laughing, trying to look and act their absolute best in the midst of formality. The sizzling of frying pans reaches Koku's ears too, as the door to the kitchen swishes back and forth like a baseball bat in a player's hands, ever so ready in a match and ever so used to the feeling of the hardened wood around his palms. The smell of the atmosphere makes him wonder if he could eat thin air; a mix of wine, roasted beef and many other specialties he can trace, lingering in the air as its smoky fingers play with their heartstrings one by one, being replaced with another, then another, then another.

Koku takes a seat right beside Teikoku, who was once again talking to Manchukuo in a hushed voice.

(Seriously, what are they talking about and why are they keeping the conversation from him? Was the question in his mind, along with others, but he swallows them down in fear of making his brother ultimately mad.)

So he keeps his eyes straight forward, eyeing every detail that catches his eye- that Okinawa is now playing with Tokyo and Hokkaido's wine glasses, making airplane noises; that the chandelier above them is swaying slightly as the air changes its course towards it; that a waiter is covering his face with a mask, hands clasped, leg bouncing impatiently, looking everywhere, turning his head left and right like he was expecting a guest- until at last, he looks right ahead at Teikoku before fast-walking to the kitchen's door...

Koku blinks, his eyes never leaving that door until he hears someone snap his fingers, and he turns his attention back to his family, now ordering their desired meals. Teikoku looks at him expectantly, fingers drumming the table and raising a brow at his direction. Koku deliberately has no time for ordering, so he tells Teikoku he wants what his brother wants.

Teikoku blinks a little, "Are you sure you want spicy food?"

Koku nods with no hesitation. "Sure."

Teikoku dismisses the waiter with a little wave, before resuming his conversation with Manchukuo.

The ignored boy decided to dream about how one day, he will become a world renowned writer. He can already imagine his books in many a shelves, waiting to be read by people who wishes to read the words he has so carefully integrated into the delicate pages that can be folded or thrown into the lake but words still readable (of course he would not accept his book being treated that way), and interpretative to the audience as their eyes roam around the words looping the page with hunger, beads of sweat dropping from the pores of their skin as their finger bends to turn the page.

(He would accept the fact that not everyone would like the way he write though; at least he would get the pleasing of a few audiences and even good compliments and reviews that will make him red for the next few months.)

He hums a small song his mother used to sing to him before she mysteriously vanished (a melody he hums everyday to remember his mother by), trying to look busy by examining the plain white napkin and tissue at his side of the table, at what is the highest tone the wine glass can go when he starts hitting it purposefully with a spoon, and basically tuning everything out until it becomes a static buzz like it is all in his head.

And then like a bomb buzzing throughout the sky to create a cataclysm of events, the whole world implodes all around him. Then the next second seems like everything was in slow motion; there was a buzzing and ringing in his ears that were like a whole garbled mess of another language that a barrier had been formed around them all. Everything was falling to bits in such a slow pace, he wonders if he really is in a movie setting but seemingly so real- the chandelier, instead of plummeting to the floors is slowly but steadily falling like the flipbook did not fully construct its drawings properly and the choppy fall of the chandelier is the result of it; he hears Teikoku shout but the rest of it is slurred and drunk, their table flipping over as glass shards fly across the restaurant, everyone else seemingly stuck in a choppy format, eyes widening in surprise, drinks being spilled, trays being thrown away by the sheer force of the explosion...

And then the spell breaks, as the chandelier plummets to the ground, light bulbs shattering and splaying all over the face. One even tries to impale him right over the eye, and he tries to dodge it, but it seems that his feet are glued to the floor, only watching it come closer, closer to his face to hit its target-

A hand yanks him back down behind a dining table, which has now been turned to a shield; nearby, he hears the sounds of guns clicking and people shrieking and screaming, the thudding of feet loud in his ears. He slowly turns to face Manchukuo, pursed lips and furrowed brows, as he readies his own gun for a battle.

"Stay here with Tokyo and Hokkaido, alright?", Manchukuo tells him, tight-lipped, "me and Teikoku will handle this mess." Koku nods absently, his gray eyes following Manchukuo's departing body from their hiding spot and into the mass of blood.

Koku is in a state of shock, unable to move nor get up from where he was hiding with his siblings. Instead of the air and wind supporting him in his every breath, they are puncturing his chest as his bones break apart to form splinters surrounding his heart but his ribs trying to shield the damned source of his life, beating the way his ears are now ringing a high melody. Koku chokes a little, feeling small particles of dust being absorbed into his throat, his lungs suffocating him whole. Koku tries to get up, but his legs feel like jelly, like they've been broken to tiny pieces. He breathes in and out, but he cannot inhale that fast and hard as his lungs start to fall apart underneath all this smoke and dust, hidden beneath gaps to conjure up a surprise attack reserved for him and only him.

So he follows his chaperone's word and stays with Hokkaido and Tokyo, both shell-shocked and trying to soothe Okinawa who is now shivering and shaking.

Manchukuo has been trained - blood and sweat - for this; it's pulsing in his veins, as he finally put all his hardwork for good work. He can feel a sense of relief once he can finally hold the smooth surface of a gun again, its shine rivalling the moonlight from outside, which had just risen to conquer the orange ball lighting up the entire day. He takes a look at it for a moment, admiring its handiwork, before filling it with bullets meant to target people, sinner or saint.

He sees his boss in the midst of the stampeding crowd, causing more chaos and difficulty rather than easiness. The crowd in front of him were like animals- one single event will conjure surprise, shock, panic and fear that will cause them to go hooting and making the situation even worse. Manchukuo then hears a group shouting in a spur of languages: Korean, Russian, Chinese; and he turns his head towards their direction, seeing them cock their pistols, ready to shoot at Teikoku and give themselves a well-earned pat on the back for a job well done.

Mancukuo swallows his nervousness away, his nervousness because he has grown accustomed to the ways of the mob, its deep, sick, and twisted insides that are all full of rot but he has no mind for this: Teikoku promises his children will be spared from his great wrath, if in turn he works for him.

He remembers that night clearly; there was a slight glimmer of malevolence in his eyes as he offers this deal to Manchukuo, all those years ago, but he thinks nothing of it, young and immature with nowhere to go, accepting the deal and taking Teikoku's hand, then training hard, to murder, to be a puppet, and ultimately becoming Teikoku's right-hand man in the scale of things, a blurred view of what is right and wrong.

(Every night, when he comes home to his children, barely old enough to understand the basics of the entire world and how it revolves around the sun, he thinks; thinks if he is doing the right thing, the right will, the best of the best to keep his children safely underneath his arms, to the end of his days.)

So, he takes another deep breath to make himself at peace that he is going to have to kill once again, before pulling the trigger, once, twice, thrice. All of them drop to the ground like flies once their monster pulls out a repellent that has murdered them all. Blood oozes from their bodies, but their murderer is now running towards his boss, who is shielding himself with a table, gunshots being heard and he tries his best to dodge them.

(For someone wearing glasses, he was a good shot- he'd use it to make people underestimate his prowess.)

"Sir, Soviet and his mob must have known of your plans for the day", Manchukuo pants, finally reaching Teikoku, veins in his hands pulsing, a glare set on his face as he peeks outside of their barrier before almost getting shot by a stray bullet.

"I know that", Teikoku replies, "the question is how to get rid of them."

Manchukuo looks back to dozens of men in black, holding out guns poised to shoot and kill in one motion, towards the sea of bodies surrounding him and Teikoku. The first option was to run like an idiot towards the perpetrators before getting shot or stomped to the death with heavy feet by the crowd. The second was to hide in the same spot, hoping and praying to the gods above that this entire operation will go down the ground, since they are, in this case, outnumbered, them finally becoming the prey.

"There are too many of them, sir", Manchukuo notes, "we don't have enough men to fully wipe out all of Soviet's men coming for our blood tonight."

"Are you underestimating my power?" Teikoku pulls his trigger and lets out a bullet, straight to one's head, but before he falls another bullet goes straight to his head to hit his comrade behind him, also dead. "Anata wa?"

Manchukuo blinks at the two corpses, whose lives had just been shot through the heart abruptly by Teikoku himself, the sun that even the plants wilt and dry up. He shakes his head, "Iie, Teikoku-sama."

(He learns the hard way never to cross even the slightest side-eye from him, his gray eyes showing the bespectacled boy a portal to the fiery pits of hell itself.)

Manchukuo inhales and exhales, relaxing himself as he aims the gun on two more violators and shooting them, straight through their head, their bodies falling like the plague has taken them one by one. And then he sees a spurring object, almost hurdling towards him before he sidesteps out of the way just in time. His glasses fall out to the floors, and he is overcome with panic as he drops to the floor, searching for his glasses while his vision swims like a river flowing right at him.

Then he hears the cock of a pistol, its metal clinking against its owner.

"Manchukuo", the newcomer greets, allegedly knowing his name; his voice was... familiar, except it was now in a lower tone of voice, no innocence left in him. "It's... nice to see you again."

Manchukuo feels the smooth and cold handles of his glasses, and he puts them on, blinking a little to satisfy himself of his clear vision. Then he sees him- the face on the missing posters he's hung up in his room to reminisce a time where everything was kept in their house, just a block away from where he is residing now. The old, abandoned house, grass overgrown and conquering the old white walls, untouched for decades, a ghost in time, but a ghost visible to his eyes nonetheless. The phantoms of the past loves to toy with him, as he walks by that same old house he has left all those years ago, to pursue a desperate way to get money, without his brothers by his side, and Teikoku had taken him in like a small cat stuck in the jaws of death, mangy and beaten.

"Renmin?", he asks, narrowing his eyes as he takes a step closer, but the other falls back. "Is that you?"

Renmin's eyes linger from the gun in his hand, and to Manchukuo's face, searching for a sign, with an unreadable look in his eyes. Manchukuo's lips curl to a small smile and a sad laugh resounds from deep within him, finally being released after years of anguish.

"It is you!", Manchukuo embraces the young man, Renmin struggling underneath his grip as his gun falls to the tiled floors, making a sharp sound from underneath the sounds of gunshots and the sight of crimson liquid everywhere. "How long has it been since we last saw each other? Two years? Three?"

"Ten years", Renmin deadpans, lips pursed to a thin line, eyeing the gun on the floors. "We haven't seen each other for ten years, and here we are."

Manchukuo's smile falters a little, but he keeps it glued to his face, overjoyed at the sight of his brother, obscured from the entirety of his life for a decade. "But... we finally see each other again. I would've preferred a much more decent setting", he looks at the broken and shattered glass windows, the once highly refined setting of this venue tumbling to ruins after just a day of its reign, a king succumbing to his land after just annexing the furthest of regions in his empire, "but we meet again nonetheless."

Renmin nods, breaking away from Manchukuo's arms, "So we have."

Manchukuo's mind was not on the corpses scattering to the floors, the foreign languages swirling around his head, making him dazed the longer he is with Renmin, the one that got away. Tears were forming in his eyes, a dam about to break to unleash a wave of unresolved emotions, trying to break out of the cold and frozen prison hidden behind his eyes to punish him for ever letting them dry up. He holds his brother's hand, smooth and warm underneath his rough and calloused palms, and he wonders; if his life with Soviet was smooth sailing, the seas calm in his grasps, the sky blue and the water clear. And his life was rough, always a stormy day and night, his boat rocking back and forth as the angry waves try devouring him deep into the waters like they are sirens luring their hypnotized prey only to be torn to shreds.

"We can escape this madness, you know?", Manchukuo says, voice breaking, clasping more onto his younger brother, his hands growing colder like death is overtaking him. "I can start the car. We can leave. Not without my kids though, I love them to bits, and you'll adore them. We can rent an apartment in another city, out of this shit we've dug into."

Renmin's eyes show no sign of comprehending his older brother's message, always empty, and then... it shines a little. His unreadable face turns to one of excitement (but it looks forced, for Manchukuo's part), the hands on Manchukuo's warming like its life had returned to it, hope rekindling from this life of misery. "That would be... lovely, Manchukuo. Away from everything we've ever known, and into the unknown. That's such a brilliant plan. Come here for a moment."

He pulls on Manchukuo's arm, and he follows, compliant. Before he can think clearly however, Renmin pushes him to the floors, pistol on his hand, a small smile tracing over his face, watching his brother below him widen his eyes in surprise before realizing how dire the situation is; Renmin aims the gun at Manchukuo and shoots- he misses his head, but he gets his thighs at the very least.

The bullet was like a small little button, just deadlier and thicker, his delicate skin being punctured by the cursed thing and blood comes spilling out. The pain was unbearable- a thousand needles cutting deep into his skin, trespassing to the deepest crevices of his soul as the blood gushes out towards his wool clothing, the dark hue of his pants clashing with the crimson red, pulsing in his veins, pooling into his clothes and absorbing it like a wet sponge after washing the dishes. His breathes are ragged, struggling to stabilize his condition as his heart beat increases faster, panic rising in him as he trembles and shakes; he has only ever felt the metal clad against his head whenever he speaks out too many times against Teikoku, but he has never been shot.

Until now, that is.

A thousand screams were trying to erupt from his mouth, mind and veins, pulsing too much, his fingers engraved deep into his palms, puncturing him ever so slightly, in the simplest of ways, blood dripping from his mouth due to biting too much.

"Dàgē", Renmin's voice was soft and dim, Manchukuo straining to hear his voice. "This is goodbye."

He does not lift his hand however, but Manchukuo sees it- a dot a distance away from them, growing increasingly nearer and before he has time to finally get ahold of his situation, everything goes black, the end of his act, the end of his play.

Renmin stares at the limp figure that used to be his brother, tuning out all sounds from anywhere else as he looks at those dark eyes- full of hope to have a new life, away from the mobs, away from Teikoku, away from this madness; now just a listless stare into the oblivion he is now falling through. He hears a cry from somewhere distant, but he pays no mind, kneeling down and closing his eyes, his face cold as death had come to him fast, the hole where the bullet went through dripping out blood, glasses askew. Renmin takes in a deep breath, sighing a little before he feels two arms wrap around him like a coat during the winter season. He feels a kiss on his cheek, and all of a sudden he grows warmer.

"Sulian...", he sighs as he kisses his lover on the lips, the larger chuckling as they deepen their kiss on enemy ground, the floors splattered with blood, all screaming in pandemonium. But Sulian was his heaven, a dream come true, and with him everything is serene. Sulian breaks their kiss however, uttering a needy whine from Renmin but he shushes him.

"Listen, lyubov". Renmin's ears stop clouding the drenches of his skull, then he hears it- blares of a police siren.

"Gāisǐ de", Renmin swears underneath his breath, already realizing how heavy their situation is right now. "Gather the men, get out of here before the goddamn police arrive." He finds another strapping young man eyeing Teikoku, eyes narrowed, hands relaxed on the gun, poised to kill. He sighs a little, "I'll take care of Inmin."

Renmin swerves and ignores the mangled bodies scattered about the floor, the gunshots never scaring nor hindering him as he makes his way towards his goal- the unhinged man by the kitchen door, his only remaining eye furious with passion and fiery vengeance on the one who ruined his life and made him plummet to where he is now. The blaring of the sirens were getting louder now, becoming a source of irritation in his ears.

"Inmin." The adolescent almost drops the pistol he was holding until he reflexively catches it with a hand. He glares at Renmin and stares back at his target. "We need to leave; the police are here."

"I don't care!", Inmin hisses, eyes still on Teikoku, murdering his way through the bodies, looking more like a deity punishing the mortals than a man himself. "I want to kill him. I want to torture him so that he can feel the pain he gave me."

"Now's not the time Inmin!", Renmin snipes, hands on Inmin's arms, pulling him back to the exit, comparable to a mother scolding and forcibly taking a child from a store of sweets. "The police are there and if they see you with a firearm they're going to handcuff you! We are not bailing you out!"

Inmin growls, trying to shake off the firm grip on his arm, "So what if I get stuck in a cold cell for the rest of my life?! At least I know what happened to my mother!"

"Your mother wouldn't like it if her dearest son sees you in a prisoner's outfit, would she?" He knows he should feel bad about threatening Inmin like this, but he'd done this to him most of the time; from doing housework chores, guilt tripping him, and to this. One word of his mother not being appreciative about his life, Inmin's whole confidence comes crashing down to a zero, just the way Soviet likes it.

Inmin's arm goes slack, and he lets Renmin drag him from the chance of finally getting the sweet vengeance he so desired ever since he was a child. Revenge was calling out to him, a voice seducing him to kill Teikoku before it is too late, trying to bribe him of a life of riches for one soul. One heartless and wretched soul, enough to rid the world of one person who doesn't deserve to breathe the same air as they do. He sees Teikoku smile, shooting as many people as he wishes, sometimes missing Inmin's comrades to shoot civilians, and sometimes he would aim perfectly at his comrades and shoot, one last drop of life disappearing from the world. And he was laughing; the bastard was laughing, enjoying what he has done, enjoying himself trampling all over the corpses.

The last thing Inmin sees before Renmin closes the door behind them was Teikoku's gray eyes on him, his lips in the form of a wide smile that sends shivers down his spine.

Inmin needed a peace of mind after the latest gathering from his mob. He takes a cigarette out from his coat's pocket, lighting it up, serving as the only source of light, the moon being covered by the clouds like a gray blanket hovering over the sky. His hair was flaked with sleet, and he shakes them off for the umpteenth time this night, sighing as he takes a load of the scenery outside of the cramped spaces he's been living in. Inmin sighs at how wondrous the buildings portray a scenic landscape in the night, the small glow of the stars trying to conjure and replicate the glow of the moon. The dim lights of each building shows silhouettes of family, friends, and couples doing something private, only for it to be broad casted by the lights inside of their home, and whatever they are doing.

Inmin did not get high of the feeling of a cigarette in his mouth, releasing a puff of smoke, watching it stretch across the sky like a wisp before it completely disappears. He wants the feeling of cannabis underneath his nose, enlightening him and making him feel like he has no problems at all, his sadness drowning away just from snorting the plant until he feels like he is happy enough to do his own thing, and then the spell wears out few hours later, leaving him weary and tired, cursing the effects.

(Of course, his comrades would decline him of his usual stash this night; he was thrashing about, swearing and making the newest members overwhelmed with his act.)

"Family...", then his only eye lights up, finally remembering what he has to do to finish the night off.

Repeating the address he promises never to step foot after they rejected his offer to help find their mother by looking for a mob that will aid them and their financial business. He remembers the shit he's said to them, as he steps on the dead cigarette stick as he runs from the edges of the city until he finds an apartment building.

He has seen the building change, all those years ago, becoming much refined, more appeasing to look, no more moldy walls and rotten would that is sure to make the whole place collapse with one slam of a door. Inmin walks towards it, steps light, not wanting anyone to be aware of his presence, of him going back to the home he deserted in search of someplace else. The eye underneath his eye patch was tingling, as if sensing he belongs here, to the family he has his eye on ever since leaving, ever since he has become an outlaw, a watcher in their lives leading and progressing on.

Inmin dips low as he watches Minguk through a window, book on his hands, and he focuses hard on the words on the large book his twin was holding, but all he can comprehend are words ever changing, flying out of the covers of the book and into the window, and he becomes disgruntled at the fact he can never do anything right, even read a goddamn title. Minguk's mouth was moving, perhaps reading and memorizing the passages in the book he was reading, coffee on the table.

Ah, Inmin looks at the dark circles underneath his brother's eyes, the way his fingers would twitch when he flips to another page. He's pulling an all-nighter again. Baegchi.

He looks through another window, seeing his samchon cooking something, a small smile on his lips, eyes closed as he lets his dream over take him, back to the days where everything was alright and dandy.

Inmin sighs- nothing has changed from the last week, his family still being poor ignorant souls while he is searching for their mother, their souls giving up on the probability she is alive and well.

So he runs, to the midst of the night, the sky camouflaging him as he runs back to his mob.

Dàgē- big brother in Chinese

lyubov'- love in Russian

Gāisǐ de- damn it in Chinese

Baegchi- idiot

Samchon- uncle

#mine #writing #countryhumans #countryhumans japan #countryhumans japan empire #countryhumans kpg #countryhumans north korea #countryhumans south korea #countryhumans manchukuo #countryhumans china #you're shooting your bullet the wrong way

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theblackmarketofsanseroche · 4 years

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The Beautiful (Series) - Renee Ahdieh

Rating: 4/5 stars

The Beautiful is a new series by American author Renee Ahdieh. This series contains all of my favourite elements of YA: period romance, the supernatural, magic and the 19th century aesthetic. A series I truly enjoyed reading despite not having a long lasting impact on my emotions or memory after finishing, yet having left melooking foward to the third ( as of yet unanounced) installment (because trust me there cannot not be a spectaluar, final showodwn after that conclusion).

I shall dicuss this as an overall series, having only discovered the first installment a few weeks back and having devoured the highly interlinked volumes, both in a couple of days. Spoilers ahead: Warning!. I found our main charcter Celine to be truly enojoyable and not a laughable stock image of the typical strong female protagonist who is not like other girls ( although Celine is most definitely not like other girls). She’s quick witted, unapologetically true and forthcoming, qualities I truly enjoy seeing in historical fiction as they set aside the stereotypical 19th century woman, a second class citizen longing to be rescued by a knight in shining armour.

This series does wonders for inclusivity and giving racial minorities important roles. We have an Indian lawyer, biracial protagonists who progress into an interracial romance, queer characters and a former slave made business-man all under the esotheric skies of New Orleans: a place of rebirth, in more ways than one; wrapped in a noir, captivating vail of beauty.

As well as a fresh cast of characters, we still enocounter some tropes as old as time which, I must confess, I am a true sucker for. Queue our mesmerising love intrest Sebastien: edgy badboy in the first book, tormented and lovesick protagonist in the sequel. Though I am not the type to swoon over romance I found it impossible to resist the heartbreak and entaglement between Bastein and Celine, an amost retelling of the infamous star crossed lovers Romeo and Juliette, if only bloodieer and more magical. It is perhaps this element that makes my heart ache for the tormented heir of the Saint German empire, who longs to be a better man for his beloved whilst still maintaining a truly badass facade.

This series has acheived the impossible: the redemption of the ever meme-tastical Twilight, the embodiment of shame among vampire novels. These vampires posses a dark aura around them that will drag you to a far more enchanting world, although not the most complex, without ever sparkling. The way Ahdieh costructs the supernatural elements of this story is just what I love to see (even though the feys were a little unexpected and, at first, seemed to almost comedically clash against the goth-y vampires, until we begin to understand the true nature of the fight between this rapresentation of Light and Dark.)

From a writing point of view, I found a couple of slightly irking details. The first, originally noted in the first installment of the series, is the occasioanlly awkward phrasing which forces the reader to skim sentences a couple of times to grasp them well. Another element that I hope will dispear in the third book is the use of alternation between first person and third person point of views. In The Beautiful, our anatgonist was wrapped in complete mystery, and the use of present first person POV worked beautifully in giving the reader the sinister feeling of something malicious lurking in the shadows, allowig us to feel just as Celine does and keeping us on the edge of our seats. Unfortunately, this doesnt work as well in the sequel, The Damned, as all the first person POV are Bastien’s chapters which, whilst giving us more insight on his previously mysterious character, fail to deliever the edge this writing technique had in the first book.

Narrative wise, as already mentioned, the sequel brings far more depth to this world than the first pictoresque scenery of New Orleans presented us with. Although, as it is a little unexpected, it takes some getting used to. The fey world our protagonists become heavily involed with seems rather cheesy at times and something out of Lord Of The Rings, which seems to clash almost too much with the vampire, Tim Burton-esque world of vampires. However, it is just this immersion into the broader world that allows us to learn more about the history of vampires themselves and although I would not have admitted it at first, it only works by having the book told mostly from Bastien’s POV, which therefore heightened the whole reveal about Celine’s mother and her royal heriatge in the Otherworld.

A key element of this series which I truly enjoyed is the tragic and passionate romance that prevails against all odds. Although in the first book it appears a mild case of instalove masked as turbulent physical attarction, it becomes far more concreate towards the end and believeable, especially in the second book, where our star crossed lovers are willing to sacrifice their lives for the sake of the other. What I particularly enjoyed is the conflict within Celine when it comes to Bastien and Michael. I grew to hate love triangles after The Infernal Devices ( I have more than several probems with said series and its author despite my love for Will Herondale). However, what we find in The Beautiful isn’t a constant back and forth on what boy should Celine choose. She’s strong willed and follows her heart more than anyone or anything else. The conflict is far more real as it presents as struggle between her heart ( which longs for Bastien despite her blurred memories of him) and her head (which knows a lady in this era should long for a good, respectable husband such as clever detective Michael Grimaldi).

Now, where does this leave us in regards to the third book? If I have to (SPOILER) give my opinion, I think Ahdieh might pull a Twilight twist on us but actually execute it in a logical way: by the time The Damned ends, we have two lovers heirs to two rival thrones and a long to reuinite and restore peace in the Sylvan world. Plus, with the constant talk of legacies, heirs and family, it would be fair to assume we may face yet another half vampire pregnancy in YA. However, far more is yet to be revealed, plenty of characters still hide secrets, a pack longs for a leader, a man has been betrayed by his beloved and we may have met a new antagonist, far more evil than the werewolf full of hatred that has set motion the conclusion of the series as of yet.

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badsext · 5 years

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idk if you're still taking requests but i'd love some more robert/klaus smut bc i think i've read all there is up to date lol, was thinking something hella dirty with a the reader being british, also bonus if it ends with someone else walking in on them ;)))

Kitchen Heat: Robert Sheehan x Female Reader

Thanks for the request, anon! Requests and comments make me so happy! I hope you enjoy!

Words: ~1800

Warnings: It’s pretty smutty :)

After years of culinary school and working as a sous chef in some of the top restaurants in the UK, you decided to move to Los Angeles to open your own restaurant. The concept: classic British comfort foods updated to suit the health conscious and eclectic millennial palate. You had recently been graced with a glowing four star write up in Food and Wine magazine which created quite a buzz. It also drew the attention of your celebrity obsession, Robert Sheehan. You’d been a devoted fan ever since Misfits.

The first time he came in the place was jammed! Your staff struggled to keep up with the demand, but you didn’t want to turn anyone away. The host seated Robert and his friends at a table far enough away from the kitchen to be considered a good table, but close enough that you had sight lines through the narrow kitchen window. You observed him talking and gesturing enthusiastically with his friends, imagining what he might be saying about your food. Whatever it was, he looked pleased and your heart swelled with excitement.

That’s when Kim, the waitress came back into the kitchen saying, “Robert wants to meet the chef.” You nearly had to pick yourself off the floor at the news.

“Tell them I’ll see them straight away,” you said, imitating confidence. You ran back to the loo to put yourself together. Working in a busy kitchen has a way of making you look like you’ve been running a marathon through a food fight. You took off your apron, restyled your bun and applied a bit of powder to manage the shine. You looked in the mirror and smiled sarcastically at your reflection. This was about as good as it was going to get without a shower and a change of clothes. You bravely walked out to the dining room for Roberts critique.

He smiled and got up from the table when he saw you. He started clapping and his friends joined. It was surreal. The blush heated your cheeks. You took a little bow in response.

“Y/N, this food is…I can’t describe it…In tastes like the past and the future. It’s delicious. I love it.,” he said, gesturing wildly with his hands.

You laughed. “Wow, thank you, Robert…I don’t know what to say.“ You really didn’t.

You sat down for a few minutes to chat with the group. Kim brought you a glass of wine, turned away from Robert, her eyes wide, mouthing the words ‘oh my god.’ You tried so desperately to act casual at first until you actually did feel at ease with your new friends. Robert was so warm and kind. He had so many questions. You tried to learn about his current project but he kept bringing the conversation back to the restaurant and the food. He was really enthusiastic.

You soon realized that you were needed back in the kitchen, so you excused yourself and went back to your frazzled kitchen staff. Your memory of those moments with Robert would be etched into your brain forever. Now it was back to reality, whisking and chopping, searing and garnishing tall, savory dishes long into the night.

A few weeks later Robert returned to the restaurant. He was alone this time. It was odd seeing a celebrity dining alone. He ordered the beef wellington and a glass of red. He was reading something. A script maybe? Kim came back to tell you that he had tipped her a hundred bucks, said he wanted to camp out at the table for the rest of the night. "I think he’s waiting for you,” she said gently digging her elbow into your ribs.

Your heart started pumping at double speed. Maybe he was interested in you. God knows you had been fantasizing about him for nearly a decade. After meeting the real Robert, maybe those fantasies weren’t so crazy after all. It looked like he was actually a fan of yours. That realization lit a spark in you as you swaggered out into the dining room and up to Robert’s table, sliding into the booth across from him. “Hello, Robert.”

He dropped his script, clearly flustered. “Y/N, you surprised me!”

“You came back.”

“Well, the food is amazing and I think I’ve got a thing for the chef,” he said with a shy smile.

“A thing, you say? Let’s explore that, shall we?” You looked down at your watch. "The restaurant closes in twenty minutes. I could give you a private tour of the kitchen, then we can hit the pub or something."

"Yes! I like this plan,” he said grinning.

You spent the next twenty minutes in a daze of growing anticipation. You made stupid little mistakes trying to manage the final clean up and prep for the next day. The cooks and sous chef were headed for the pub. They asked if you’d be joining them. You mumbled something noncommittal and focused on pulling yourself together. You were now just seconds away from being alone with Robert.

“Everyone’s gone. Come with me,” you said, grabbing his hand, surprising yourself with your boldness. The touch of his skin sent electricity to your brain and back down to the heat between your legs.

The overhead lights were off and pilot light from the stove cast a gentle glow when you entered the kitchen. Robert stepped in close to you, still holding your hand. "I’ve had everything on your menu. His head tilted slightly and his gorgeous green eyes looked deeper into yours. “Is there something else I can try?”

You smiled, acknowledging the innuendo, but decided it would be more fun to tease him. “I’ve got a new desert I’m working on. It’s a bit like classic trifle, but I’ve added an American twist. You went over to the walk-in and returned with your latest experiment. Robert leaned forward curiously, tucking a wayward curl behind his ear. He watched intently while you assembled the sponge cake, fresh berries, and cream. "Let’s see if you can guess the secret ingredient.” You dipped a strawberry in the cream and slowly brought it up to his lips. He opened his mouth and devoured it sensually, closing his eyes then moaned softly and exhaled. God, everything this man does is erotic, you thought as you watched him swallow the desert. You inched closer until your lips were a few centimeters from his. “Bourbon,” you whispered. “It’s the secret ingredient.”

“I didn’t have a chance to guess,” he laughed. You studied his long, curly lashes as he blinked. In what felt like slow motion, his lips finally met yours. You drew a suddenly necessary breath in through your nose, wondering if this was real. He slid his hands up around the back of your neck and gently slid his tongue into your mouth. You tasted the lingering sweetness from the strawberry and creme as your tongue mingled with his. You hooked your arms around his waist. He pressed his body to yours. Even through your double breasted, heat resistant chef’s coat you could feel his stiff cock pressed against you.

His hands slid down to the buttons of your coat. He managed the first few, then became frustrated. He pulled away from the kiss with an audible wet smack. “So may buttons,” he lamented with furrowed brows. You giggled and finished the job, removing the coat. Your clingy T-shirt was damp with sweat. You cringed for a second, worried that would kill the mood, but quite the opposite happened. Robert was intoxicated by your scent. He kissed your damp neck, peeled the T-shirt up over your head, then removed his own. His smooth chest and lean muscles took your breath away.

You thought for a second about the fact that this was happening in your kitchen. You were about to break every rule in the book, but that just excited you more. Besides, you’d sanitize the whole goddam place in the morning anyway.

You hooked your index finger into Robert’s ridiculously low waistband. You heard the anticipation in his breath. He grabbed your wrist, and turned your hand over in his so he could softly kiss your palm. “Not yet,” he said. You started walking toward the empty stainless steel prep table, looking back at him over your shoulder. He grabbed your hips and positioned himself behind you, answering your non verbal question. Then he kissed your back and shoulder blades as you unclasped your bra. His wet kisses sent shudders down your spine. He cupped your breasts and gently pinched your nipples while grinding his cock against the small of your back.

Your pussy was already soaked when you both started feverishly wrestling with your pants. You kicked off your shoes and Robert took care of the rest. You stood before him naked but for your socks. He gave you a boost up onto the table, your knees spread apart. You leaned forward placing both palms down in front of you. Robert’s hands grabbed two handfuls of your ripe ass. You whimpered when he ran his fingers up and down your wet slit, then gasped when he eased them inside you.

You were about to get off on his fingers alone when he slowly pulled them out and replaced them with his mouth. His lips and tongue explored every part of you from your clit to your asshole and back again. He made swirling rhythmic motions that made you twitch and moan until you came like an earthquake.

Rob guided you down off the table until your feet were back on the ground and gently bent you over. Then he slid his cock inside you, bucking his hips until he was as deep as it would go. He grabbed your hips and began grinding and thrusting. Your nipples grazed against the cold stainless steel table with every movement, adding to your pleasure. Just as you were rounding the corner to your second orgasm the lights flicked on. You shrieked.

“Oh shit!” Kim screamed and shielded her eyes with her hand like you do in the bright sun. You and Rob tried to cover up the best you could, using your hands as fig leaves. Kim laughed nervously. “Well, you two…keep calm, carry on,” she mumbled and turned to go, forgetting why she came back in the first place. “My phone”…she reached awkwardly for the object on the counter… “forgot my phone.” Then she bolted for the door. As soon as she was gone you both burst out laughing.

“Y/N, I don’t mean to sound forward, but would you like to come over to my place?”

You laughed and nodded. "That sounds lovely, Rob.”

Want more?

@moorehollandplz @helena-way07 @turtlease @zohrayoung @vices-brendon @fangirl110603 @addan-anye @wow4stories @clockworkchild @isabellagiron@lilim13 @becka1703 @this-bitch-actually @ineffablecrowley666 @tootsie-noodels @ohyoubringmejoy @yeetskeetbuddy @klaushollandyoung

#robert sheehan smut #robert sheehan imagine #robert sheehan #klaus hargreeves #tua #nathan young #robert sheehan x reader

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seyaryminamoto · 4 years

Text

A decade in review

So... I figured I’d join the corny crowd of people who are talking about their growth and achievements this decade. Looking back can actually help a lot when you lose sight of where you’re standing or where you’re going, soooo...

I started this decade halfway through writing an original story that I didn’t take all that seriously at the time. I was in ninth grade, so sure, I was young... and yet, as some people might know, I was clawing my way out of the worst depression I’ve ever faced. If you guys thought you’d seen my low points... yeah, no, I’ve never again hit a low point as badly as I did back then. Yet even though difficult things happened through the rest of the decade, I learned enough lessons from that early, terrible and distressing time (which happened at the end of the previous decade, to be precise, which is why it’s honestly not worth going into right now) that I managed to stay afloat, even if not easily, upon each new opportunity where depressions knocked on my door up to date.

Now, beyond my mental health, I was still in music school at the start of 2010, and I was certainly no longer as enthusiastic about it as I had been when I first enrolled. I didn’t realize at the time that my calling was something else entirely... and the more I wrote that story I mentioned above, the more I leaned away from one branch of art and towards another.

I think I got my first graphic tablet either in 2009 or 2010, at one of my birthdays. My sister dropped the pen on the first day, the tip broke and I flew into the worst of rages :’D she was so apologetic about it, I don’t think I’d ever seen her quite so remorseful, which was why I toned down eventually and cut her slack, did my best not to bring it up again... anyways, I learned to draw with that thing despite the malfunctioning pen, and the first artworks I did weren’t exactly brilliant... here’s one of them, one of the few I actually finished :’D

... Safe to say, I’ve learned a lot since those days, right? :’D

(also, if anyone wonders, that artwork features the main characters of that original story I mentioned, the original file is dated for April 2010, so indeed, a file from early on in the decade :’D)

Slowly, but surely, my life started to revolve more and more around writing and reading/watching stories of all sorts. I’d spend hours and hours every day watching anime (yep, my weaboo phase in full swing!), I’d devour most books that fell into my hands, and I even ended up volunteering at a library (does it really count as volunteering if the government forces you to volunteer or else you can’t graduate from high school...? Hmmmmmm...). I actually chose that library because most other options were basically to play babysitter for either kids or senior citizens, and I sure didn’t think I was equipped to deal with either thing. A library, though, meant I’d work with books most of all, and I was pretty sure I’d be more useful at that job.

Cue the irony that, because I was apparently so helpful, they decided to give me more important duties, such as DESK DUTY, because the other volunteers weren’t as trustworthy as me, and bye-bye to working directly with books. Haha. Sad.

But that temporary, sort-of job at that library definitely changed my outlook on my future, even if it felt like such a fortuitous thing, something I was forced to do rather than choosing to do it of my own volition.

For all my life I’d felt a ton of pressure because my family is always more science-oriented than any other I’ve ever met. So I had to excel at school because that was expected of me (all my siblings had, so I couldn’t lag behind them, I’d been disgustingly competitive with my siblings for too long to reason with it yet), and I actually was decent at science subjects. I blindly thought that science was the only possible path for me in life. I was seriously planning on going into engineering because I more or less enjoyed chemistry... but every time I thought about what it meant to finish a major in engineering of any sort, I always ended up asking myself one question: would I have time to write in that sort of career?

The mere thought of office work, lab work, which were guaranteeed to be the best thing I could aspire to once I finished college for engineering, sounded like a morbid funeral march to me. I honestly found myself thinking that’d be a waste of my life. And that’s not to say anyone who actually spends their life that way is wasting theirs, but I KNEW it wasn’t my calling.

One day, while at that library, I realized what my actual calling was: I wanted that life. I wanted to work with books, whether making them or writing them or selling them or just about anything to do with the business. A mix of my crazy storytelling passion with that particular job experience brought me to the conclusion that I needed to forsake my family’s big ole’ scientific legacy and to make my own choices. My three siblings could easily enough carry forward that “legacy”, I could do my thing instead.

I think that decision, which took more courage than I thought I had, was probably one of the best I’ve made in my entire life. Telling my mother I’d go into literature was NOT easy and I literally had to make the equivalent of a sales pitch for her to agree to it, investigating all I could about the career, researching as much as possible to show her there WERE career possibilities I could pursue if I chose this major, until she finally relented. And that success meant I was off to a whole new world of crazy once I graduated from high school.

Which I did indeed, in 2012. I wouldn’t start college until 2013 because my major’s first semester wouldn’t start until March, so I had a nice long break because the school year, in my country, ends in July. I had been exhausted of studying at the time, so the break was absolutely welcome.

In the early stages of that time period, I actually finished that big ole’ original story of mine, and I couldn’t have been prouder of myself for it, even if I was sure I’d never show it to anyone. I was embarrassed of it, to a fault, because there was a lot of ridiculousness in it, the plot was all over the place despite following the storytelling beats I’d learned through the many anime I’d watched, and eventually it evolved into something completely different from what it started out as. I sometimes allowed myself to imagine what it would be like to write a big story that I could share with people and hopefully get more than a handful of readers for... Still, I tucked my original story away safely, because even if it was embarrassing, I was proud of what I’d learned with it. So I went on with a new original story, one I was DEAD SURE I’d be a better writer for, and that I would be much more successful with.

My sister visited us during that summer, and she showed me, my other sister and my mom, a certain TV series that she had very much enjoyed despite we had never thought much of it back when it was airing.

I’d seen a couple of episodes back in the day, but none had quite impressed me. The first episode I saw had made the show appear like some sort of lame “villain of the week” show, and the second one (I probably only caught the second half of this one) had such mixed values and morals that I was completely appalled by it and decided it wasn’t my thing. Then I, uh, also watched the final minutes of the final episode and it seemed so very melodramatic for the SCARRED GUY to ask SOME IMPRISONED GUY where his mother was, only for the show not to address the answer at all and cut to a pair of kids kissing on a balcony.

Sooooo... my very unimpressed self had decided ATLA wasn’t my thing because of The Great Divide, the Southern Raiders and the last three minutes of Sozin’s Comet: Avatar Aang :’) I’m funny that way.

This time around, watching it from scratch, I was slightly more interested in it because the first few episodes DID look like there was a coherent plot that was going somewhere. So even though my mom and other sister didn’t keep watching (at the time), I decided to watch it by myself because well, why not?

... Cut to seven years later and here I am, still neck-deep in this particular, dark corner of that specific show’s fandom. September of 2012 was when the Seyary you all know came into existence (?)

I won’t lie and say my experience in this fandom hasn’t been a damn rollercoaster in its own right. I certainly started off with WAY more enthusiasm than I have now, just look at my Author’s Notes from my first stories or Gladiator’s first chapters and read my hyped notes for yourselves :’D I definitely was caught by the magic of the Avatarverse, the characters, so much about ATLA seemed to exude potential and, after being disappointed by the popular anime of the time (*cough* SAO *cough*), ATLA (and later LOK Book 1) were a breath of fresh air for my weaboo brain that was sick and tired of some really annoying tropes anime seemed to be throwing at me left right and center (I’M SO DONE WITH THE IMOUTO FETISH TO THIS DAY, I CATEGORICALLY REFUSE TO WATCH OR READ ANY DAMN STORY WITH ANYTHING FEATURING THAT GROSS AND FUCKED-UP CONCEPT).

So I enjoyed ATLA a lot, and then LOK Book 1 (I virtually watched all of that in one day and had REALLY HIGH HOPES for the next seasons. Heh. I’ll leave that as that). And like everyone who gets hyped about fandoms, I decided I needed to look up more stuff about it! Art, fics, you name it! And while I really enjoyed LOK back then, I had thought Korra’s story would unfold in a cool way in future seasons, since all four of them (I think) had been confirmed by the time I joined the fandom... whereas I was dissatisfied and in dire need of fix-it situations for my favorite ATLA character.

I started off looking for general Azula fics. Then, as usual, I started testing ships for her. There were some ships I never saw the point to, and I shall not name them, there were some ships I saw partial potential to but I wasn’t exactly thrilled about them, so again I shall not name them...

And then one day I was scouring DeviantArt and came across the gem you all know about, which I’ve gushed over for all these seven years as the entire reason I converted to this particular ship.

Secret Kiss by Saniika can be credited, 100%, for planting the seed of Sokkla in my head. I didn’t understand it right away, why lie, but I was definitely intrigued. All other Azula ships I’d found were shipped for obvious reasons, easy enough to pinpoint even if none was all that satisfactory for me... so I was confused by this one, absolutely. Why would someone ship this ship? Why would they ship it so hard as to commission such quality artwork about them? The same commissioner’s name popped up in pretty much every single epic artwork about these two at the time, and I was completely blown away by that. To be so dedicated to a ship, to make all those artworks about a huge story about them that I couldn’t seem to find in FF.net at the time...

Cue the surprise when I actually ended up befriending said commissioner barely a few months later, and she’s hands down one of the best friends I’ve ever had :’)

Still, no need to head into that particular territory right now xD I was curious about the pairing, but I was also wary. I looked for fics, none really seemed to tell canon-compliant stories about how they could have gotten together post-ATLA... at least, not while they were still young. I looked at a few stories but nothing really hit home yet.

Back in these days, I used to go to... gosh, the cringe of just saying so, to FACEBOOK for fandom purposes of all kinds. Yeah, I know Facebook communities aren’t necessarily terrible, but I sure as fuck ended up in all the wrong ones :’) so... heh. I befriended someone who had an Avatar page, and while in conversation with him, the subject of LOK’s Pro-Bending came up. We talked about how much fun it would be for ATLA’s benders to play it. And so, a few weeks later, on a bus ride back home after meeting some high school friends, I allowed the idea to blossom further. And suddenly I was 100% caught up in it, deciding I’d have to feature Azula somehow, and I decided to try my luck at doing that by making her Sokka’s girlfriend :’D his inexplicable girlfriend, at the moment. All of it, just for shits and giggles. Because why not!

So I wrote that story, both because of that momentary bout of inspiration and because my second big original story was falling apart on me due to world-building reasons. Do NOT ever talk to me about Celtic calendars. If you do, I will block you into infinity (?). So yeah! A writer’s block caused by Celtic calendars resulted in my decision to calm down by writing something else for a change.

I had little hopes to finish Origins of Pro-Bending, simply because I didn’t write fics. Whenever I had tried to write any around those years, it had NOT gone well. I had always fallen apart after a couple of chapters, failed to keep up the momentum, fumbled the story as a whole in the end. So I decided to take this easy, and I posted it to FF.net despite not being sure I was ready for that: I hadn’t written a story in English in AGES, and you do NOT want to know what was the story in English I’d written before this. You do not. If you even ask, I WILL BLOCK YOU EVEN MORE THAN I DID WITH THE CALENDAR! *heavy breathing*

Okay, so... back to the topic, I honestly didn’t know what to expect. I didn’t really expect much, because I figured not a lot of people would really care for anything I posted. But then... that view counter started to shift. The numbers kept going up, and the more chapters I posted, the more it did. The reviews also poured in, slowly at this point, and then in a certain chapter there were NO REVIEWS AT ALL. Which I considered a fail. I honestly thought it meant my story was a flop, a failure, and I should just STOP because NO ONE CARED.

... Have I ever been accused of being overly dramatic? If not, it’s only because I hide it relatively well... sometimes :’)

But I said “it’s okay, I’ll finish it. My friend wants to read it after all, and I’ll just write it so he can see it to the end. I’ll finish uploading on FF.net even if no one cares anymore, because maybe someone someday will want to read it, even if no one does now”.

... Overly dramatic Seyary then finished her story and halfway there came up with the idea for a NEW ONE! The PREQUEL! The story of how Sokka and Azula fell in love! All by listening to The Reason. And as much as I had thought I wouldn’t keep writing fics after OoPB, that idea was too powerful to ignore. So when OoPB picked up reviews and views all over again and ended with what I considered was a BANG, I said “THIS SHOW’S NOT GONNA STOP HERE!” and I went and wrote the Reason next, obsessively, literally pushing through the entire, near 100K story, in A MONTH. I honestly wrote every day. I’d NEVER done something like that :’) Granted, I was pretty constant with OoPB, but it was shorter and I wasn’t quite as psyched about it as I was with The Reason.

Honestly, The Reason is where I REALLY fell for Sokkla, for everything that it was, for everything that it could be. I had felt its potential since OoPB, and I had concluded Sokka could make Azula smile like next to no one else could... that is, if anyone else could at all. But the whole spectrum of it, the storytelling potential, the development of both characters... I hadn’t understood it yet. And by the time I did, with The Reason... wow, there really was no turning back.

So I ended up writing that, and then I wrote Break In and How They All Reacted. And in between I made a few AMVs that Viacom NICELY tore down and are no longer available for you guys. Sorry ‘bout that. I did what I could.

The thing that was getting to me most, though, (and, why lie, feeding my ego a bit too much) was looking at FF.net’s data spreadsheets, available only for each user: it wasn’t so much the number of readers, which did overwhelm me on its own right anyhow... it was the places they came from. The fact that I could see, according to this data, that people in South Africa were opening my story, in Romania, in New Zealand, in Singapore... I had allowed myself, very briefly, to imagine I would one day publish books and that they might not be complete fails, but I NEVER expected anything I wrote to be read by people who lived halfway across the world, who had entireliy different cultures from my own, who had no idea who I was but wanted to find something to read and had decided to click on my story, amongst all the many possibilities. That particular function of FF.net is probably my favorite on that site, like I said not because of the numbers but because of the places. Even if your readers aren’t outspoken or they don’t even bother favoriting, following or reviewing... they still count in ways they don’t imagine. They may just look like one more number on FF.net’s spreadsheets, but when that number is connected to a location it feels much more real, I think. As an author, that means that’s one more person, somewhere in the world, who decided to give my story a chance.

On a day of February, 2013, one such person left a review I really enjoyed and that I thanked him for profusely. In his response, he brought up that he had been watching documentaries about the Roman Empire and he had thought about an AU for ATLA where maybe Sokka was captured by the Fire Nation and turned into a gladiator, only to become Azula’s sponsored fighter later on, a fighter she’d want to sponsor merely to stave off boredom. He was bringing it up to me because he didn’t want to write it himself, and he thought maybe I would be interested in trying my hand at it since I seemed so passionate about Sokka and Azula.

At first I only thanked him for the idea, said I wanted to focus on my canon-based stories instead and I was sooooo not interested in AUs at the time...

Ahahahaha.

AHAHAHAHA.

Joke was on me the whole time.

As I’ve mentioned, I went to bed one day, about a month later, and my brain exploded with the possibilities of this story. I told this guy, he was thrilled. I told my closest fandom friends at the time, they were STOKED. One of them told me to get off my ass and start writing that ASAP. Which... I followed through with. Immediately.

It feels a bit strange to think I’ve been writing the same story for nearly 7 years now, with next to no breaks, with such persistence I barely can recognize my early 2010′s self from that. Nope, no worldbuilding nonsense stopped me here: I FIGURED THINGS OUT. I worked through it all. And then I figured it out some more.

Back when I was first scouting the fandom’s fanfiction archives (in FF.net in particular, seeing as I didn’t even have an AO3 account at the time), I remember looking at the biggest, top reviewed stories and wondering how it would feel to be the author of one of those. Most those stories had gotten started either early in the show’s run, or just earlier that same decade... nothing I did was bound to pick up that much steam, I thought, especially when I was writing about what was, by all means, a rarepair that I posted about on Tumblr to like... 8 notes per post. At best.

The first time someone sent me an ask to let me know Gladiator had made it into the first page of top reviewed fics I nearly fell over myself in shock. Admittedly, I’ve gotten used to the feeling by now... but at the time I could barely believe I’d come THAT far without really expecting or meaning to.

I’ve really dealt with a lot of nonsense alongside with the story, ups and downs, highs and lows, nasty situations just as blissful ones... people making art for my story was certainly an incredible highlight. That, as well, is something I did NOT think would ever happen to me. Unlike the top-reviewed page thing, it’s actually impossible to get used to art about your fic xD it’s always amazing.

And I’ve met people from all around the world, made friends far and wide, reached heights I didn’t think I would. I’ve said I’m much more jaded these days, it’s true enough, but that doesn’t mean I’ve lost sight of what this story means in the long run. Gladiator truly is the best story I’ve ever written, in just about every regard. Is it perfect? Have I made nothing but right decisions with it? Nah. But that doesn’t mean I’m not absolutely proud of it for what it is, for all the work I’ve poured into it, for every moment spent building that story into what it is and for how far I’ve come thanks to it.

Everything else in the decade really feels like a blur because of Gladiator, but I’ll say that I’ve as good as finished college by now (while writing Gladiator :’D), I have written all my thesis and am stuck waiting endlessly for my supervisor to goddamn answer me already to say whether I’m ready to go forward with the presentation yet and GRADUATE! But until then I’m stuck waiting on that, even if my college career is pretty much over.

As for my work experience... heh. I had two of those this decade. One... writing clickbait articles. Wow, was that shitty. I hated every second of it. I was pretty sure I was killing people by doing that, because some people are indeed gullible enough to believe the shit I was forced to write. And the pay? It was SHIT. So, as soon as I had a good excuse, I kicked that particular door shut and got out of that mess immediately. And then I got my TV station job too... which started great, and ended up being another shitty disaster. While it had some really wonderful highlights, I made friends with this senior, wonderful video editor who was endearing beyond belief, I learned a ton of things I wouldn’t have learned otherwise (like having the patience to put up with an iMac from 2009 in 2018, to name one thing!), but I also had to endure REALLY dreadful management that led me to even wonder how the damn network was even on-air half the time. The experience in that network taught me a lot about what to expect in work environments, and to NEVER trust the tried, boring and true “this place feels like a family!” claim. Half the time it’s like they don’t realize families are usually complicated, full of unpleasant power-based relationships, secrets, resentment and problems of all sorts. So sure, the workplace might be like a family. Definitely not like a GOOD family, though.

And speaking of families... I’ve developed new appreciation for mine over these years, just as I’ve grown enough to see the cracks everywhere, the problems, even all the way to realizing even an allegedly dream-like family like my own can absolutely be torn apart by miscommunication, pride, stubbornness and refusal of members to acknowledge their wrongdoings. I’ve done my best by my family despite that’s not saying much, I’m indeed a lazy butt who spends way too much time on a computer writing crazy stories rather than working around the house... but I think I’ve never felt more loved and appreciated by my parents as I have in recent times, especially this year. We’ve talked more, opened up more, they’ve even told me the story of how they fell in love (the growth of their relationship all documented through PHOTO ALBUMS!!), they’ve leaned on me in hard times and I think we’re tighter than ever.

On the downside... my grandfather died during this decade too. To this day the loss stings, even though by all means we weren’t the type of super-close grandfather and granddaughter who spend every waking moment together. But the thing is... we were so different, with so little in common, and yet that man loved me so genuinely, so unconditionally I could barely understand it. What had I ever done to be so important to him, beyond being his youngest granddaughter? I always had thought he would feel closer to other of his grandchildren, those who had more things in common with him, and yet when my grandmother died he wanted me to sit with him on the car on our way to the funeral, and just holding my hand seemed to help him gain strength to face what was coming.

In his final moments he hardly recognized anyone, not even my dad, his son. He kept talking about his childhood home, as though he had returned to his youth and forgotten where and when he was, losing all connection with time and space. But when my dad told him I was there, visiting him... he smiled. And he called me the nickname he always used for me. To the last moment, he knew who I was. I mattered, even if I didn’t know why. When they told me he had passed away I cried, and I cried some more, and to this day I feel like crying for it still, sometimes. I will never, EVER doubt my grandfather truly loved me, and I’ll always carry that with me, no matter where the world goes. I’ve lucked out with this family, but I’d never known unconditional love like the one he always showed me. He was a special man, and losing him certainly was one of the saddest moments in this decade.

Aaalright, so, on a less emotional note... I’ve certainly improved a fuckload with my art, which you all must imagine after the glimpse at one of my earliest artworks up there. That I’ve gone from that to this...

speaks for itself, I hope :’) It’s supposed to be same characters, this one was finished earlier this month. I didn’t post it until now because I frankly didn’t expect anyone would understand what it was or care for it much x’D but it seemed the right opportunity to post it now, especially when talking about art growth.

In any case, I may still have a ton of anxiety to this day, and I definitely am not as confident in many areas as I was when the decade began, I realized I honestly don’t have all the answers and I always have to be ready to learn new things from people, no matter who it is. There’s some regards in which I haven’t progressed enough in, why lie... but I’m hoping the next decade will bring meaningful changes in that department, such as my plans to leave the country, which should come to fruition by next year around March, if all things go according to keikaku (I’ll surely have to return after 6 months, but it’s better than nothing at least). And of course, I do hope I’ll continue to grow as a writer, that all this experience with Gladiator will mean I’ll be 100% ready to write any future original stories I want to (and that I’ll be able to rewrite that specific story and move beyond the slump I fell into because of the DAMN CELTIC CALENDAR!!).

Also, just in case I didn’t get it across in other posts where I mentioned it, I revisited that old original story last year, and despite the messes and mistakes and ridiculousness of it... I love it more now than I ever did before. I’m really proud of it. I know most people cringe at everything they wrote when they were younger... I honestly can’t do anything but look back in pride. My starting point was the best one it could possibly have been.

Now, what’s my resolution for the next decade?

Finishing Gladiator

Yeah, there’s probably going to be other stuff I’ll want to do too. But for now, that shall be the priority. It won’t take just a year, it probably won’t take two... but I will absolutely see this big, chaotic baby to the last moment, and I will savor and suffer and cry and rejoice every step of the way. There is much left I want to achieve, many new objectives to conquer, and I’m going towards them with as open a mind as I can muster. May this 2020, and the years that follow, mark a new starting point that I’ll look back on with pride, just as I can do the same with where I started off in 2010.

Happy New Year to all of you who read this really long post, and I really hope you have a great year and decade, and starting point of your own, in 2020.

#seyary rambling #sorta personal but #you're all welcome to read it #if you have like #20+ minutes to spare #did anyone ever praise me for brevity #no they did not #should i be proud of that #no i am not #that's one more thing I probably should learn in the coming decade #to cut myself slack #and my words #because I ramble too much :')#anyhow #happy new year to all of you through the tags in case you don't care to read the post #it has been one really crazy decade #one I never expected to end the way it is ending #but admittedly I've come much further than I ever thought I would #may the next decade be better though

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