In the cold grip of captivity, Y/N found herself trapped in a nightmare. Days stretched on with brutal monotony, marked by dehydration, dwindling sustenance, and the agony of her bruises. Her body's endurance was waning, her spirit unwavering, until one day, the weight became too much. Overcome by thirst, hunger, and pain, Y/N's world dimmed, and she succumbed to the darkness, her body finally surrendering to unconsciousness.
Vegas POV
Amidst the echoing remnants of the argument with my father, a tempest of anger surged through me as I stormed into the dimly lit room. The air crackled with tension, mirroring the tempestuous emotions that swirled within me. Yn, the captive figure huddled in the corner, her endurance palpable, became both a beacon of hope and a target for my frustration.
"Why the hell are you so silent?" My voice reverberated against the walls, the words a mix of pent-up frustration and concern. The room bore witness to my rampage, objects sent crashing to the floor in an outward display of my inner turmoil. "Curse me, damn it! Yell at me like you always do!"
But Yn remained silent, her gaze fixed on some distant point beyond me. The hollowness in her eyes sent a chill down my spine, replacing my anger with a gnawing worry that clenched at my heart.
Rushing toward her, I dropped to my knees before her, my fingers reaching out to brush against her cheek. The trembling in my hand mirrored the tumult of emotions that churned within me. "Yn, please," I pleaded, my voice now laced with raw vulnerability. "Don't shut me out like this. I can't bear it."
The seconds stretched into an agonizing eternity as her silence persisted, the weight of it pressing down on me like a heavy shroud. Fear clawed at the edges of my consciousness, and I wondered what horrors she might have endured during her captivity.
Then, like a distant light breaking through the darkness, a flicker of recognition danced in Yn's eyes. Our gazes locked, and in that instant, the world seemed to pause, hanging on the precipice of possibility. I glimpsed the strength that had drawn me to her, a spark of resilience amidst the desolation.
Urgently but tenderly, I pulled her into my arms, a fierce protectiveness swelling within me. The anger that had consumed me now transformed into an unwavering determination to shield her from harm. Holding her close, I whispered reassurances against her hair, promising to bridge the gap that had grown between us—both from our arguments and the shadows that had plagued her.
With a newfound urgency, I gently laid Yn on the bed and rushed to retrieve the first aid kit. My movements were swift but precise as I gathered the necessary supplies. As I returned to her side, my fingers trembled slightly, a mixture of worry and determination coursing through me. Carefully, I began tending to her injuries, my focus solely on her well-being.
The antiseptic sting and the rustling of bandages seemed to fill the room, a rhythmic dance of care amidst the chaos that had unfolded earlier. I worked swiftly, my hands steady despite the whirlwind of emotions that had overtaken me.
Just as I was finishing up, a stirring from the bed caught my attention. My heart skipped a beat as Yn's eyes fluttered open, her gaze locking onto mine. Relief surged through me like a tidal wave, overwhelming the fear that had gripped me moments before. She was awake, she was okay.
Y/N POV
My senses stirred as I gradually regained consciousness, my eyes fluttering open to the dimly lit room. What I saw took me by surprise an image of Vegas, the man who had stormed in with a whirlwind of emotions, was now quietly tending to my injuries. A mixture of astonishment and gratitude welled up within me.
As he finished his ministrations, he held out a pill to me, urging me to take it. However, a pang of skepticism gnawed at me, a testament to the guarded nature of my circumstances. "I don't trust you," I found myself saying, a hint of suspicion coloring my voice. "What if it's poison?"
A sardonic smile tugged at Vegas' lips as he replied, his tone laced with a challenge. "You think that?" His actions followed his words as he popped the pill into his mouth, a gesture that seemed to dare me to question his intentions further.
His proximity suddenly became palpable as he leaned in, his body hovering over mine. Our faces were so close that I could feel the warmth of his breath against my skin. My heart raced a mixture of uncertainty and something else that I couldn't quite pinpoint coursing through me.
His gaze locked onto mine, his eyes holding a magnetic intensity that I couldn't look away from. Something about his gaze, a mixture of vulnerability and determination, seemed to bridge the gap between us.
And then, as if in response to the unspoken tension that hung between us, his lips brushed mine in a soft, lingering kiss. My breath caught in my throat, the sensation of his touch sending a shockwave of emotions through me.
As our lips parted, I found myself drawn into the depths of his eyes once again. The pill, once a source of doubt, was now forgotten, the boundaries between us fading in the wake of that intimate moment. My lips parted slightly, a silent invitation that I hadn't even realized I was giving.
Vegas seized the opportunity, his fingers gently tilting my chin upwards. With a mixture of tenderness and urgency, he placed the pill in my mouth, the sensation of his lips against mine making the gesture feel like an electric charge that pulsed through me.
As the pill dissolved and the taste of it mingled with the lingering traces of our kiss, it was as if a connection had been solidified between us. No longer confined by words, our unspoken desires, and vulnerabilities were laid bare in that intimate exchange.
He settled onto the floor, his gaze still fixed on me, his presence almost a reassurance amidst the turmoil that had unfolded between us. I couldn't help but voice my darkest thoughts, asking him why he hadn't allowed me to succumb to my circumstances. "Why don't you let me die now?" I questioned, my voice heavy with the weight of my struggles.
His response was chilling, a reflection of his pain and resentment. "That's too easy," he said with a haunting sincerity. "I won't let you leave this place so easily. I want to see you suffer, to feel the pain."
I probed further, wanting to understand the source of his animosity. "What happened to you?" I asked, my voice softer now, infused with genuine curiosity.
Vegas' eyes held a mixture of bitterness and resignation as he recounted his trials. "My father left," he began, his voice carrying the weight of old wounds. "He scolded me, berated me for how much I sucked at everything." His self-deprecation was stark, his self-worth crumbling under the weight of his father's expectations.
I tried to reason with him, to offer a different perspective. "Everyone has their good and bad parts," I told him gently, wanting to remind him that his worth was not defined by his father's expectations. "You're doing this to prove yourself to your father. Doesn't that count for something?"
He scoffed, his laughter tinged with a hint of irony. "You only see the world in bright colors," he remarked, a mixture of exasperation and admiration in his voice. "You don't know what I've been through."
Lying there, under Vegas' gaze, the mixture of vulnerability and curiosity in his eyes prodded me to share a fragment of my own story, a tale buried beneath the facade of my family's wealth and status. The tension that had held us in its grip seemed to soften, if only for a moment, as I ventured to bridge the gap between us.
"Vegas," I began, my voice a gentle echo of the past, "my family, well, it's not as perfect as it seems." His eyes remained locked on mine, a blend of surprise and intrigue.
Taking a deep breath, I pulled back the curtain on a chapter of my life that had remained hidden for too long. " As you know My father, he's a renowned painter," I said, my words carrying the weight of both admiration and regret. "He's achieved success, fame, everything you could imagine. But behind the façade of a happy family, there were cracks deep ones."
I glanced down, my fingers tracing the edges of the fabric on the bed, almost reliving the emotions that had once gripped me. "He was hardly ever around, always engrossed in his work, leaving me to navigate my own life. Money wasn't a problem, but the emotional absence was."
Vegas' expression remained unreadable, but his focus on my words was unwavering. "I lived in this extravagant bubble, where we were supposed to be this perfect, affluent family," I continued, my voice tinged with a mixture of bitterness and nostalgia. "But the truth was, the connections were strained, the interactions superficial. My father's success painted a picture that obscured the shadows beneath."
I raised my gaze to meet Vegas' eyes, my voice carrying a quiet strength. "And like you, I've faced moments of pain and doubt, but the world chose not to see it. They saw only the glitz and glamour, never the sacrifices or the struggles."
"Has your father ever beaten Mr. Korn?" pointing out that his father's actions were not about him being inadequate, but rather about their flaws. It was a sobering realization—one that stripped away the pedestal I had put his father on.
We sat in silence, the weight of our shared revelations hanging in the air. Then, with a quiet intensity, Vegas said, "Nosy." The single word encapsulated the essence of our connection—the willingness to delve into each other's pain, challenge preconceived notions, and ultimately uncover the humanity that lay beneath our exterior facades.
Vegas left the room only to return carrying a bowl of steaming ramen and a bottle of water. My eyes widened as I took in the sight of real food, a stark contrast to the meager offerings I had been given before. A glimmer of excitement danced in my eyes as I regarded the bowl, unable to hide my genuine surprise. "Is this for me?" I asked, almost needing confirmation that such a treat could be meant for me.
Vegas' response was curt, a no-nonsense retort that held a hint of impatience. "Are you gonna eat it or not?" he asked, his tone challenging.
Not wanting to miss out on the opportunity, I quickly nodded, my enthusiasm apparent. He handed me the bowl, his posture settling on the edge of the bed as he opened a book, an air of casual detachment surrounding him.
Just as I was about to take my first bite, a sudden realization struck me, and I paused mid-action. "Wait," I said, a trace of suspicion in my tone. "What if it's poisoned? I can't die like an idiot." My gaze shifted to the bottle of water, a newfound appreciation for its potential as an antidote.
Vegas looked at me with a mixture of disbelief and exasperation. "What the freaking poison?" he exclaimed, almost incredulous that I would entertain such an idea. He took a hearty bite from the ramen, his actions serving as proof of his confidence.
With a sense of cautious optimism, I picked up the water bottle and took a sip, my eyes never leaving his face. The liquid went down without issue, and I couldn't help but let out a growl of satisfaction, a combination of relief and triumph.
Vegas continued eating, his focus on the ramen before him. As he swallowed a mouthful, he looked at me with a challenge in his eyes. "Well, what are you waiting for? Go ahead and eat. If you hate me that much, at least get some energy to try and kill me, you idiot."
His words carried a strange mixture of harshness and concern, and I found myself inexplicably drawn to the bowl of food before me. I picked it up and, with an almost innocent gesture, muttered, "Umm, okay." I couldn't ignore the fact that his actions had dispelled my fear, making the food before me seem less like a potential trap and more like a genuine offering.
"Though," I added with a smirk, "you didn't have to take such a huge bite just to prove it's not poisoned." The tension between us seemed to have shifted, replaced by a strangely comfortable familiarity that was hard to ignore.
Vegas' response was a bemused roll of his eyes. "Well, screw it," he declared with a hint of amusement. "It's time for me to eat, too." With that, he took a substantial bite from his bowl, a shared appreciation for the flavors binding us in an unspoken agreement.
As the day passed, something unexpected began to unfold. Vegas and I found ourselves strangely comfortable in each other's presence. We discovered that we had more in common than we initially thought. Our tastes in music and favorite artists surprisingly aligned, and we even shared a few laughs as we reminisced about songs and bands we both enjoyed.
It was a surreal experience, considering the circumstances that had brought us together. We talked about our favorite movies, childhood memories, and hobbies. It was as if, for a brief moment, we were just two ordinary people bonding over shared interests.
The tension that had once hung heavily in the air gradually dissipated, replaced by an unusual sense of camaraderie. It was a peculiar turn of events, and while I couldn't forget the pain and fear I had experienced, I couldn't deny that there was something strangely human about Vegas, hidden beneath his menacing exterior.
The next day in captivity, with nothing much to do and no spicy tea to overhear, I found myself yearning for some form of entertainment. I spotted a book lying on a nearby table, and out of sheer boredom, I decided to pick it up and see what it was about.
To my surprise, it turned out to be a book that delved into personality analysis based on various factors such as your pet, zodiac sign, favorite flower, preferred food, and even your favorite color. It seemed like an unusual but intriguing read, given the circumstances.
With nothing better to occupy my time, I delved into the book, curious to see what it had to say about me based on these unique criteria. It was a diversion from the harsh reality of my situation, a brief escape into a world of whimsical analysis.
Vegas entered the room, looking as dashing as ever. He glanced at me and noticed the book I was holding, sitting on the bed. With a playful grin, he asked, "Where did you get that book, Yn?"
I decided to have a little fun with him and replied with mock innocence, "Oh, I think I went to buy it, or perhaps a bird came and dropped this book right in my lap."
We both shared a playful moment, a lighthearted exchange amidst the unusual circumstances we found ourselves in.
Vegas and I continued to banter playfully, our exchanges filled with a mix of sarcasm and humor. It was strange how we were slowly finding a strange sort of camaraderie in our shared confinement, despite the circumstances.
As I read through the book, I reached a page that described personality traits based on blood types. I turned to Vegas and asked him about his blood type. He replied with "AB."
I acted surprised and exclaimed, "Damn, AB is pretty cool!" Vegas then asked me about my blood type, and I told him it was (your blood type).
He asked me to see what was written in the book, so I flipped the pages to read about blood type Y/B/T personalities. I responded, "People with Y/B/T blood type are smart, gorgeous, funny, savage, and clever." Vegas rolled his eyes and remarked, "You should throw the book, it's stupid." I retorted, "But it's written in the book, man, calm down."
As I continued reading, I shared the descriptions for people with AB blood type. I said, "People with AB blood type are beautiful, like real-life cupids." When I mentioned this, Vegas's eyes sparkled, and I couldn't help but chuckle a little. I went on, "They look open from the outside but are hard to guess when it comes to their emotions, and they can be a bit clumsy." I then added, "The floor and the walls are just really friendly to you." After finishing, I commented, "Damn, it's so accurate."
I couldn't help but smirk as I continued reading about personality traits based on pets. I said, "Hedgehog owners look scary and volatile from the outside but are really soft, sensitive, and weak on the inside." When I mentioned this, Vegas's head shot up in surprise, and he reacted quickly, asking, "Who's weak, huh?" It seemed like the description hit a nerve with him, adding an amusing twist to our conversation.
I couldn't help but chuckle as Vegas reacted to the description of hedgehog owners, which mentioned sensitivity and a need for love. He seemed to be getting a bit flustered and kicked the book in frustration. I watched him closely, and he appeared to be genuinely concerned as he looked at his hedgehog.
As night fell, I noticed that Vegas was still awake, cradling his hedgehog in his hand while wearing a worried expression. It was a stark contrast to the tough and ruthless persona he usually projected. I couldn't help but wonder what might be going on in his mind as he watched over his pet.
I was growing increasingly concerned about the hedgehog's health, so I asked Vegas if the little creature was okay or if something was wrong. Vegas explained that the hedgehog had been breathing strangely for a while, and his eyes were watery, though he wasn't shedding tears. This was an unusual sight for me, as I was used to seeing Vegas as a confident and often angry individual.
I couldn't help but worry and asked if there were any medications we could give to the hedgehog. Vegas's response was disheartening; he said there weren't any suitable medications available. Suddenly, he stood up and headed toward the door. I couldn't help but inquire about his destination, to which he replied that he was taking the hedgehog to the vet.
I protested, expressing my concern that it might be too late for the poor hedgehog. However, Vegas seemed determined and genuinely worried as he left the room with the hedgehog in his care.
After Vegas left the room, I found myself alone, free from the chains that had bound me. The key to my escape lay within reach, a tantalizing opportunity to break free from this place. I knew this might be my only chance, and I hesitated for just a moment.
But then, a flood of worry for Vegas and his hedgehog rushed through my mind. I couldn't shake the image of him holding that towel, looking genuinely concerned for his beloved pet. It was a side of him I had never seen before, and despite everything, I couldn't just leave him alone in his moment of distress.
Determined, I grabbed the keys and swiftly unlocked the chains that had confined me for so long. The sensation of being free was exhilarating, like a breath of fresh air after being suffocated. I reached for Vegas's shirt, which lay on a nearby chair, and put it on. It was a small act, but it felt like a gesture of understanding and compassion.
I made my way to the door, ready to leave, but my thoughts kept drifting back to Vegas and his hedgehog. I couldn't ignore the genuine worry and sadness he had displayed earlier. As much as I wanted to escape, my empathy pulled me back.
With a sigh, I ran back, where Vegas sat with a towel in hand, his face etched with sorrow. I couldn't resist sitting beside him, offering my support in this difficult moment.
I placed my hand gently on Vegas's lap, trying to provide some comfort as he sat there in despair. It was strange how a few moments ago, we had been reading a book and sharing light-hearted banter, and now we were faced with such a heartbreaking reality.
As I sat beside him, I couldn't help but recall my own lonely childhood, the absence of comfort and love that had shaped me into the person I am today. And now, seeing Vegas in such pain, I couldn't bear the thought of someone else feeling the way I had felt back then.
He turned to look at me, his eyes filled with tears, and uttered those painful words, "The hedgehog is dead." It was a heavy blow, and I felt a lump in my throat as I tried to find the right words to console him.
Vegas sat beside me, resting his head on my shoulder. At that moment, words weren't necessary; it seemed like he just needed someone to be there for him. We sat in silence, finding solace in each other's presence.
After burying the hedgehog, we returned to the room and sat side by side on the bed. The soft blue and purple lights in the room created a calming atmosphere. Vegas began to share his past with me, how he had been raising hedgehogs since he was a child, only to watch them pass away, one by one. It was a poignant story of loss and loneliness.
Vegas's words painted a bleak picture of his life, and I could sense the weight of his struggles. I listened intently, wanting to understand the pain he carried within him.
Vegas's words hung heavy in the air, and I could feel the weight of his pain and frustration. Being born into the minor family of the mafia carried its own set of challenges and hardships.
Vegas's inner struggle unfolded before me he started hitting himself questioning why was he born into the minor family. I gently held his hand but he pushed me saying "Just leave him alone u think it serves me right? "vegas I know you are hurt but hurting yourself is so dumb vegas!"
As Vegas stood up and pulled me closer by my shirt, our breaths mingled in the small space between us. His words hung in the air, leaving me momentarily speechless. The intensity of the moment was overwhelming, and I could feel the conflicting emotions swirling within me.
"Every time I get moody," Vegas confessed, his voice a husky whisper, as he attempted to hold my hand, but I gently pushed him away. His words hung in the air, charged with a sensual tension that enveloped us.
"Your eyes tell me you like it," he murmured, his tone low and seductive, like a primal desire awakening within him. Slowly, he moved his hand from my shoulder to my face, his touch igniting a trail of fire along my skin. His fingers traced the contours of my cheek, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.
My heart raced, and my breaths quickened as I gazed into his eyes, dark pools of longing and intensity. The room seemed to shrink, leaving only the two of us, lost in the throes of an irresistible attraction.
I rolled my eyes and said, "Stop being a dick," and grabbed his collar, pulling him into a deep, passionate kiss.
*I ain't writing any smut, mic drop*