Word Count: 1,496
Rating: T for language, mentions of violence, a slight BDSM-but-not-actually-BDSM reference and mature themes.
AN: I'm sorry, I know its been far too long since I've last posted something. I've recently discovered that I have a tendency to start stories and then run out of steam halfway through writing them, and leaving them to while away in the dark little cupboard that is my mind.
This is just a quick little one-shot of Ryang and Yuri, set about three to four months after Fanta leaves. Slightly AU and probably OOC. I've written that it's mid-January, but I can't actually remember what month it was when Fanta left (was that even mentioned anyway?), so you'll have to forgive me. I just chose January because I wanted the weather to be freezing, and Google told me that it's the coldest month of the year in Korea. Yep, I always do my research.
Yuri is wearing Dior's Midnight Poison, the smell of which I keep referring to in this story. I've never actually tried this perfume (it could smell terrible for all I know), but I'm a little bit in love with Eva Green, so that's how I found out about it and decided to use it as Yuri's signature scent.
Disclaimer: I do not own Faeries' Landing or any of the characters.
Ryang's never really been good at resisting girls. Well, one girl in particular, at least.
This one girl: she's tall, graceful, mysterious, beautiful and above all, completely insane.
This one girl goes by the name of Yuri Kim.
Oh, and did he mention she also happens to be a psychopath?
But despite all of this, he's never really been able to resist her.
One night, a bitter, chilly night in mid-January, she turns up at his apartment completely out of the blue. The temperature is near freezing and the wind turbulent, rain falling in thick sheets onto the tar-covered road outside his house. It makes bullet-like noises against the awning of the umbrella she clutches.
He lets her in, not that he has much choice in the matter. Ryang wouldn't go so far as to say he is entranced by her beauty, but one look into her cold but beautiful grey eyes and he's opening the door wide, taking her coat and pouring her a steaming mug of coffee.
It's the usual conversation between them. She wants him back, asks him to give her a second chance, and asks to start over. He refuses, like he always does. After all, there is a reason why he hates her - the crazy bitch cut his freaking head open with a switchblade.
Yuri takes the rejection about as well as he expects. Her grey eyes narrow with resentment, and she fixes him with that cold, baleful glare that he's come to associate with her. Ryang has learned many times before to expect something bad and usually painful to come with this glare, whether it be a slash across his forehead or a blade twisting into his side. He sits stock still, filled with dread and anticipating another opening of his flesh and the distinctive scarlet of blood to colour the floor.
The next thing he knows, they're on his bed and she's straddling his lap, her lips unyielding against his.
It may have been several years since they'd broken up, but he still remembers the feminine curves of her body, the softness of her hair, and the dizzying citrus and French vanilla of her perfume. She kisses him languidly, one hand threaded through his hair and holding his head to hers, the other slowly tracing patterns on his chest and stomach. He gets a feeling of déjà vu, because he's been in this very situation many times before.
They kiss slowly for a few moments before he deepens the kiss, his lips moving faster and more urgently against hers. The sudden intensity of it draws a gasp from Yuri, and Ryang smirks slightly at this before pushing her body against the headboard and covering it with his own. This is the first time that glare of hers hasn't resulted in bloodshed, and he's going to do everything he can to prevent it from turning out that way.
But like every time he kisses her, Ryang well knows he shouldn't be doing this – god does he know it – but life these past two months has been so tedious and empty and dull, and he's just so lonely ever since Fanta left. Also, he'd take kisses over a switchblade any day.
He doesn't love Yuri. Hell, he doesn't even like her. She's cold and manipulative, cares about no one but herself, and on top of all that, she's a real motherfucking bitch.
But she was also his first kiss, his first real relationship, and to be honest he knows he still feels something towards her, even if he doesn't know what. He's not ready to let her go, not just yet.
One thing's for sure, he certainly can't hate her as much as he thinks he does, because otherwise why would he be making out with her on his bed?
Nails claw at his back, leaving stinging red trails in their wake and he hisses, the pain heightened on his over-sensitive skin. But he's had much worse before. Back when he was fifteen, Yuri had once tied his wrists together and blindfolded him in one of her crazy cosplay scenes. Thinking back to that, he feels slightly resentful towards her for doing that to him when he was only halfway through puberty.
Yuri is still kissing him, his neck, his bare chest and his stomach, scratching her teeth across his heated skin. Pulling her head to his, he kisses her open-mouthed, drawing his tongue roughly across her bottom lip, tasting her. Back in high school, he remembers kissing Yuri and tasting mint – cool and subtle, a somewhat familiar, chilling taste. The taste of a girl who was detached and lonely, but not yet past the point of no return. That was before they'd dated.
Now, four years on, harbouring bitter memories of their once-relationship and even bitterer ones of their disastrous breakup, Yuri is no longer that girl. Gone are the days when she had a new boyfriend every week, her hair down to her waist, and lips that tasted of mint. Nowadays, Yuri wants only Ryang, her hair is chopped six inches shorter and ever since their breakup, no boy has tasted mint when kissing her.
Now, Ryang kisses Yuri, and she tastes like poison.
A rich, sharp, heady poison, one so dangerous it threatens to consume your body and soul. Yuri tastes like revenge, chilling him to the bone, a taste so repulsing and yet so powerfully addicting that Ryang has trouble finding the will to pull away. She is like a drug, her lips and her perfume intoxicating him, pulling him into the enthralling, sinister world that is her own. Yuri's poison wraps around him like a great serpent, holding him tightly with no means of escape, not that he would want to. Ryang is too allured by her presence to ever want to stop kissing her.
His mind a haze and the perfumed scent of French vanilla overpowering his senses, Ryang concedes that Yuri is like a siren of the sea, and he her victim. He knows those stories almost always end tragically, but ironically for once, Ryang does not feel any fear of being trapped and enchanted by the dark goddess kissing him. He thinks he wouldn't mind dying like this, enchanted by her poison, her scent and her beauty.
As she goes to unfasten his belt buckle, Ryang acknowledges with dread, but resignation that he will never be able to shake her. She has gotten under his skin, sunk her malicious, well-manicured claws into him, and now he will never be free of her.
Yanking her hair a lot harder than he probably should, he thinks grudgingly that maybe this isn't such a bad thing. But as her nails continue to claw at him like the talons of a monster, and her poison seeps further and further into his bones, he surrenders to it, accepts it, wants to scream it, that yes, yes this is such a bad thing.
Bad enough for him to want it more than anything.
The morning after is pretty much everything he expected it to be. He wakes up with a slight feeling of guilt, stinging cuts on his back and an angel of a girl in his arms. Well, angel on the outside, anyway.
He slips quietly out of bed, tiptoeing to the bathroom and into the shower, letting the hot water ease the ache of his muscles. Sex with Yuri has never been gentle, but never before had it been as rough as last night. They'd fallen asleep amidst a mess of feathers (she'd clawed his duvet open), shredded clothes (Yuri never bothered with buttons) and broken china (that would be the vase that once resided on his bedside table).
When he shuts off the hot water and reluctantly returns to his room, he finds an empty bed, unmade sheets, and no trace of the angel that fell asleep in his arms. The only thing left to discern of her is the smell of citrus and French vanilla, enveloping him in all its sweet, tangy glory. He knows it will linger in his room for days, ensuring that he would not be able to forget about her. However little, Yuri always finds a way to keep herself forefront in his mind. No matter how hard he tries to resist, she will always get him in the end.
He hates her for that.
But Yuri, she will always be somewhere in his life. Whether it be her presence lying next to him, the scent of her perfume tainting his sheets, or his inability to keep his thoughts from straying to her more often than not, she will always be somewhere in the back of his mind, and in the recess of his heart. She will always be constant presence in his life, lingering, teasing and oh-so-close, but never staying.
And for that, he knows that although he may hate her, he'll never be able to let her go.
AN: Thank-you for reading, I'm sorry that I keep writing Ryang/Yuri and not Ryang/Fanta, which I know everyone prefers (apart from me, because I'm weird like that).
All the best, and thanks once again for reading.