#I needed this because I can’t deal with my own life sometimes and need to find comfort through kpop men

[alynnia]

Daughters of Deepspace

THIS IS A LONG ONE. I have a habit of smashing ships I like together and designing what their kids look like. It started with just Sylus x MC but then I decided to do the rest and my mind began producing story ideas and I...got carried away. They're still all over the place. I want to do more with Dove in particular and have written a lot for her on the side, another post just about her eventually, but this post are just some summaries. Her situation in particular is extra angst because for some reason, I enjoy giving my favorites the toughest struggles. Names may or may not change. Made the designs in Life Makeover and I couldn't get the right shade for Pomme's hair color so pretend it matches Caleb lol. I wish there was a male equivalent because I would have made sons too.

I also like to give them problems. Not all of their lives are 100% happy and they have issues to deal with. One of them may or may not potentially be a villain.

Polaris

☆Energetic in contrast to her father, bubbly and curious to the point it gets her into trouble. Very "What does this button do? " type of character.  Her hobbies are sewing, plush making and being a professional crane game master. Her room is absolutely covered in plushies and comfortable enough that Xavier would fall asleep when reading her stories. In school she does decently, a social butterfly but some students are exhausted by her. Has two best friends and a boy with an obvious crush on her she is oblivious to. 

☆Relationship with father: Adores him. Her energy is too much for him to handle and she doesn't realize it. Always hanging on him, tugging on his sleeve, jumping onto his back and the poor man just wants to nap after work. Polaris follows him around and even pops up sometimes while he’s at work. When he’s too deep into an investigation and can’t get her back home, Xavier will continue with her tagging along being extremely careful she doesn’t get hurt. Though she does help him with her time evol. Around others, Polaris will brag about her father in a " My dad can beat your dad" kind of way and will get into fights over it. Once she gets a little brother, her attention shifts from Xavier to him, becoming the ever doting sibling.

☆Evol: Time. In short bursts she can speed up and slow down time making her appear to be faster than she is. As a combatant, she's able to plant traps and bombs while she's slowed everything down. There’s a limit to this as she can only do it a handful of times a day. The Hunters Association are eager to recruit her but her overly curious nature would need to be settled first since it causes problems. Perhaps if she was partnered with someone who has Resonance like her mother, she might actually be able to time travel.

☆Weapon: She's trained with a sword but she prefers explosives that are cute and shaped like animals. She finds them to be beautiful and fun ever since she was little. It started with firecrackers and Xavier's light illusions and as she grew it expanded from there. She mainly uses them as distractions but in a darker setting she might use them directly. When it comes to her swordsmanship, she learned from the best of course, her parents.

☆What is MC up to: A hunter captain. Polaris keeps tabs on who she interacts with for Xavier. After she has her second child she quits and stays home 

☆Her story: Something bad happens to her little brother and it's her fault. After this incident the family just isn’t the same and MC has gone into a depressive state she tries to hide. Polaris desperately tries to find a way to turn back time and undo but when she does find a way it may come at a greater cost, if it even works.

Jasmine

◇ Well behaved perfectionist honor student. She carries herself with grace, poise and a favorite of teachers and elderly. She has an interest in gardening, having her own garden of flowers and medicinal plants in the yard and flowers growing near her window in her room. They all are special to her, her “friends” that she chats with. Another hobby of hers is dancing, particularly ballet which she takes VERY seriously, correcting her dance partners to an annoying degree. Like her father, she's a workaholic. If she’s not studying, she’s practicing dance and if she’s not dancing she’s tending to her garden and if she’s not doing that, she’s researching. She will however, always make time for her parents. In school she has casual acquaintances but no real friends as she's far too busy to form meaningful relationships with others which raises concern with Zayne and MC. Another reason she doesn't have friends is because she also holds others to higher standards and when they are not met, she dismisses them. Warm on the outside but a cold nature within. Strict and blunt.

◇Relationship with father: Professional. She wants to excel past his expectations. She has it in her head that she has to be perfect which ends up stressing her out. Zayne worries since he sees so much of himself in her and doesn’t want her to miss out on the simple things in life but Jasmine is the type who insists she is perfectly fine and holds herself together until she bursts into a fit of rage in private. She hates that about herself, finding these emotions to be "tiresome". It would only weaken the family name and she can't let her parents down, especially her father. She has to be better than this no matter what. I can see her finding out about that suppression chip and willingly putting it into herself in secret.

◇Evol: “Healing” (Rapid cell generation) Jasmine loves her evol and is eager to use it whenever she can. She sees it as a way to emulate her father as she wants to become a doctor too to help her mother. She's well studied in biology to help aid her skill since her healing is simply speeding up the natural process. So needing to know how a limb should be set and where an organ should be is important less she causes more harm. Though, she does have the capability to use it offensively. Say she breaks the leg of an enemy she could heal it incorrectly on purpose, permanently hindering them. Or do it over and over again to get them to talk. She could have a career in (twisted) interrogation.

◇Weapon: None. She's not been trained by her parents as they wanted a peaceful life for her and believe that they are more than capable of protecting her themselves and keeping her from any situations where she would need to fight. That doesn't mean she's helpless as where she lacks in combat she makes up for in cunning (and manipulation). Jasmine also has an extensive knowledge in poisons and drugs, plants she is not allowed to grow but has a secret location where she does anyway. Later down the line, if she were to use resonance with someone to amplify her Evol, she could potentially use her "healing" to cause diseases. Rapid generation of cells can cause some very deadly results.

◇Her Story: With the chip implanted in her, she unknowingly becomes a puppet for an organization. The chip was off market and had been tampered with, perhaps former Ever scientists had something to do with it. Jasmine comes to find that there are gaps in her memory and a new mysterious disease is on the rise with certain individuals...

Pomme

♤Athletic tomboy. Her hobbies are working out, playing basketball, surviving her brothers and playing hero. She's physically the strongest of the girls. Having three older brothers, she knows how to hold her own against others and has a protective nature. It's every man for themselves in this household when the parents aren't around and being the smallest one, she’s in the trenches. She does average in school and is a popular basketball player, having her own fan club. She enjoys tinkering with mechanics, a fascination started by watching and helping maintain her father's arm and has put together little contraptions to protect her space and things from her brothers. She sees herself as a protector of the weak, a big sister to those younger than her and will beat up bullies for them. She wants to become a hunter like her mother so she can continue protecting people.

♤Relationship with father: Best friends and one sided rivalry. Caleb is strict with his sons but has a soft spot for his only daughter, telling the boys they need to do everything in their power to protect her...which causes some sibling aggression. They do love their little sister but sometimes the favoritism gives them a reason to pick on her when mom and dad aren’t looking. Pomme insists that she be held to the same standards as her brothers and Caleb keeps saying he does but he always ends up going soft on her which leads her to constantly trying to prove herself to him. So she sets traps with her mechanics, throws a kick and punch here and there that he blocks on instinct and does her best to try and out perform her brothers just to show him how strong she is. Caleb finds it adorable but shifts into colonel mode when things start to get out of hand. You can be sure she has no suitors either. Her brothers are on strict orders to tear up and scare away anyone that appears to show romantic interest in her and sometimes, Caleb himself will step in. She’s also not allowed to have a boyfriend until she’s 80.

♤Evol: None. She's the only one in her family without one leaving her to feel inadequate. Her brothers have air, earth and magnetism but Pomme? Nothing. She does however, know exactly the capabilities of her brothers and if ever in a situation where they are all fighting together, she is the one commanding them like a Pokémon trainer and laying out the strategies. " Alex! Ryan! Attack pattern B! Simon! You're on defense! " (About the names…they’re placeholders. Tempted to name them after the chipmunks but I will hold back.)

♤Weapon: Guns taught by her parents and unarmed, mostly grappling that she learned from dealing with her brothers trying to escape headlocks and being tossed around. She’s able to match the middle one (Ryan), can take down the youngest(Simon) but the eldest brother(Alex) is the final boss tier.

♤What MC is up to: Is finally back to work as a Hunter now that her children are older but has slowed down a bit. Each of them are about a year or two apart and she swears she’s going to get Caleb fixed one of these days.

♤Her Story: In an effort to save someone’s life, she ends up in an accident leaving her legs paralyzed. She's devastated as the one thing she felt she had going was her athletic ability and now she’s limited. She wasn't going to let that stop her so she wanted mechanical limbs like her father. Caleb didn’t like the idea at first, not wanting her going through the same pain and lack of feeling but after a long argument/discussion and making sure she is aware of the consequences he finally gives in. After getting her metal legs, they performed better than her normal ones. She didn’t care that she lost feeling other than pain during maintenance, the power was addictive. She wanted to be able to do more and began working on limb enhancers for her arms, body and eventually create a suit (similar to the ones in Bubblegum Crisis 2040) and essentially become a vigilante as a way to be the hero she wants to be. It starts off small, righteous, taking out petty criminals and saving cats from trees but over time the power gets to her head and she starts hunting bigger prey. Who needs Evol when she's got this?

Ariel

♡Ariel is creative just like her father and applies it to fashion in interesting ways. Seashell skirts, literal flaming dresses (That caused a small fire), coral hair clips, protocore bedazzled tops(expensive af), and driftwood hats (That still had creatures living in it). She makes just as much of a mess as Rafayel thus, she's given her own warehouse to work on her ideas. Sometimes his materials will go missing and it's likely because she "borrowed" them. In school, she excels in everything but sports due to being sickly and easily exhausted so she has to stay home most days. She was born with a weak body and can't handle physical activity for too long, including swimming. In the water, after about a few minutes Ariel just sinks like a rock. She can breathe underwater so she just finds herself laying on the seafloor. Staring up. Contemplating her "worthiness" of being her father's daughter and her Lemurian heritage.

♡Relationship with father: She has him wrapped around her finger. She's never in trouble for very long under him, as much as he likes to think he can keep her in check, all she has to do is give him The Look and he buckles. So she is very spoiled and will act over dramatically along with him giving their mother quite the show but mother doesn't let it slide making her the main disciplinary figure of the house. When it comes to anything Lemurian related she retreats within her proverbial shell. Ariel loves the stories of Lemuria, happy to hear them first hand from her father and visit exhibits about it but due to her weak constitution she thinks there was a mistake. Rafayel however, constantly calls her a princess of the sea, the rightful future ruler of the ocean and all should bow before his little girl! There’s so many paintings of her and her mother, intimidating her. He can’t stop doting on her which she finds embarrassing but the affection makes her even more self-conscious. If they ever had another child, would he stop loving her this much? (The answer of course is no, but she doesn’t know that)

♡Evol: Water. With resonance could probably lead into blood-bending but the sheer amount of power that would entail could be very dangerous for her.

♡Weapon: None, she just uses water but it exhausts her. She can also communicate with fish and they can help her sometimes. She’s only been in a dangerous situation with others once and that was a kidnapping for ransom money. She was quickly saved and the kidnappers were never to be found again but since then she’s got her own bodyguard that’s to be with her at all times. Maybe that bodyguard has a kid her age. Maybe her and that kid get along. Maybe that peer dedicates themselves to be her shield. Maybe a crush develops. 

♡What MC is up to: Stay at home bodyguard/mom that helps keep an eye on Ariel and her condition. She sometimes seeks out the thrill of being a hunter again but for the most part stays with her girl. ♡Her Story: She sees herself as a burden and is willing to do anything to “no longer cause trouble” for her parents. So she wants to make a journey, run away with the bodyguard’s kid to seek out a legend to “fix” her. They try to talk her out of it but she’s far too determined and so they prepare along with her, ready to follow.

Dove

♧Dove is a difficult, troubled youth. She's got quite the temper, gets into fights on a near weekly basis as a show of dominance and 'territory' claims, and a delinquent due to skipping school. She does have some of the best grades when she actually applies herself, but math and science are her worst subjects. When she does come to school, classmates are either afraid of her or looking to fight her to prove themselves. She doesn’t always win these fights, but when she loses the opponent tends to end up transferred or apologizing the next day through their teeth. Dove hates this. Her passion is singing, taking an interest in rock and metal, screaming in her room as she writes her own music. Sylus has gotten used to it, “ The little dragon is practicing her roars.”  She sucks at crane games but enjoys the challenge even if she keeps getting kicked out for kicking the machine. Always sneaking out of the house but it's rarely actual "sneaking" since Sylus always knows what she's up to and where she is. Where she goes varies. Sometimes old abandoned warehouses just to hang out and watch the going ons of the N109 Zone, sometimes to pick fights with thugs and sometimes the “old shopkeeper” to watch him work and to hear stories about her mother.

♧Relationship with father: Complicated. Her mother died in her time not long after she was born which caused Sylus to be distant. He still cared for her but the severing of half his soul and his daughter’s face being a constant painful reminder took some time to come to terms to. She's able to do what she wants, can have anything and he's even trained her in use of guns and fighting, he's still seemingly cold to her. Yet he's always got an eye on her. Be it the twins, mephisto, the tracking bracelet, no matter where she goes he always knows where she is and quick to appear if need be and this frustrates her to no end. She wants to escape his watchful eye and everyone bowing to her whim. She doesn't want the world to be handed to her, she wants to take it herself. The two do have bonding moments, such as he may have not-so “accidentally” taught her draconic which now leads them to having full private conversations in it (In the full post I have about her I’ll post what I imagine it sounds like but basically the FFXIV dragon speak), and while training together it’s her chance to vent out her frustrations and anger on him.

Evol: “None” as far as she knows up until a certain point. Due to who her mother is and her connection with the deepspace tunnel, there was a rare chance an offspring of hers would gain the ability of Planeswalker but only in relation to her mother. With MC being her anchor point, she can hop to alternate realities. 

Weapon: Guns but she mostly uses martial arts or a bat.Improvised weapons are another skill of hers so she’ll use whatever she can get her hands on like a steel chair or a pencil. 

Her Story: For some reason, Dove has dreams about her mother and the past lives she’s lived. Bits and pieces of it. She doesn’t think all that much of it until she starts seeing the men in these dreams that were with her. The famous artist, a well respected doctor, clippings of a co-worker of hers, a fleet colonel so she seeks them out. Upon meeting one of them, her Evol activates, flinging her into a different reality where her mother is alive and has a family with them and…meeting another girl who looks similar to her. Thus begins her journey of trying to find out more about her mom, meeting her alternate reality “sisters”, helping them with their problems while trying not to get caught and mend her relationship with her father. There may also be a common enemy who exists in each of their realities they have to deal with. 

Now I think many of us agree that Sylus should have twins. I also agree. I wonder what happened to them? Anyway, omg when Sylus finds out about Dove’s reality jumping he’s gonna want to join her so he can see MC again. Can he? Haven’t decided. Oh man and she’s with the other guys? AUuggh, it would be so bittersweet. And he’s already going to be on Dove’s ass about what the fuck is she doing talking with the other LaDs in their current reality and AKSAHDKAJHDSKH-

Sorry, I'm having too much fun with this too.

[shuniverse]

pick me up ,,| l.f

a/n: i’m doing these in a different font style now lol. but i wrote this on the spot because i’m just so done with life rn. i’m not going through personal internal issues, but needless to say this drabble will kinda sum things up. also this is written in lowercase on purpose, just btw

1.1k words

involves felix because he’s one of my biggest comforts next to channie.

the basic gist is of parents fighting and reader having to leave because of it, but it doesn’t explicitly show what they’re saying, so no descriptions of abusive language.

┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ °

you can’t do it anymore. the constant yelling, the fighting. you wish you had enough money to leave, but seeing as you’re job only pays so much and your parents seem to want you to stay, you’re stuck.

you’re in your room, blankets tucked over your head trying to drown them out as you at least attempt sleep, but it doesn’t work. the banging, the clattering, the constant berating and degrading and just pure hatred seeming to spew out of your parents mouths is too much.

you don’t know what else to do, so you call your boyfriend, seeing as it’s your only option. you pull out your phone, the brightness of your lock screen blinding you momentarily in the dark cocoon of your blankets. once your eyes have adjusted, you unlock your phone and head right to his number.

you: lixie come get me please

lix ❤️🍪: ok honey! what’s wrong? is it happening again?

you can’t bring yourself to answer at first, tears pricking again at your already puffy eyes.

you: yes pls come get me i can’t do this anymore

he sends two thumbs up emojis, and one little heart, attempting at trying to be gentle, which he always is. felix is someone you never thought you’d have, but you’re sure as hell not letting him go.

about 10 minutes later, there’s a text on your screen.

lix ❤️🍪: I’m here baby. take your time, I’m in no rush, I love you

you smile at his text, and send just a heart emoji. he doesn’t press for more of a response.

your tugging on your converse, the ones your mom bought you. they’re dirty, but functionable. you tie the laces loosely, tugging on your (felix’s) hoodie, grab your phone and bbokari plush and leave quietly out of your room. your parents are in the kitchen, and you shrink down while they’re shouting, not even noticing you leave. you sneak out the front door, and jog the small distance to felix’s car.

as you get in, you’re greeted by felix in all his beautiful glory in the drivers seat, looking to be disheveled and anxious. as soon as he sees you and your in your seat and shut the door, he grabs you and brings you in for a comforting, yet very snug, hug, breathing shakily into your hair.

“are you okay? are you hurt?” he pulls away, inspecting your features, his face softening just a bit as he sees the hoodie and plush sticking out of the hood haphazardly. sighing and brushing your hair back, he plants a gentle kiss against your forehead.

you shake your head at his question, and rest your head on his shoulder, tears in dry streaks down your face, your eyes red still. “no, they never touch me when they get like this.” you look up at him, and hold one of his ringed hands. “thank you, lixie.”

he smiles warmly, kissing your cheek. “any time, sweetheart.” his deep, soothing voice comforts you, and you snuggle against his shoulder

“can we go now? i don’t-“

before you can finish your sentence, felix is driving off. he intertwines his fingers with yours, kissing the back of your hand. “let’s head home, yeah?”

you smile. you’ve gotten used to calling felix’s apartment your home, it’s comforting. better than your actually home, where every other night it seems like you’re woken up by yelling.

after 10 minutes of comfortable silence, you’re walking up with felix to his apartment.

you don’t even expect a “come home” text from one of your parents tonight. if they haven’t noticed you leaving, they certainly won’t notice that you’re gone.

sitting on his couch, you’re watching on of your favorite comfort movies, an old Disney movie from when you were young. snuggled up against your boyfriend, you feel a surprising buzz of your phone. you reach for it, and pull it out to see, surprisingly, a “come home. please.” not from your mom, nor your dad. no, it’s from your brother. he never texts you.

you sigh, replying with:

you: im sorry, im at felix’s. you can call your girlfriend to get you?

the question is genuine, and he replies back almost immediately.

brother boy: I’ve tried but she won’t respond. they’re getting louder. can you help me?

you: I can ask one of the boys? I know you’re close to some of them. want me to call jeongin?

brother boy: sure. that works. just anything to get my out of this shit hole

you look at felix, who’s been gazing at you with a curious look in his beautiful brown eyes. “what’s the matter, sweetheart?”

“my brother needs to leave too. can you call innie?”

he nods immediately, grabbing his phone and calling jeongin.

they’re talking, and in a little less than a minute he’s ended the call. “innie’s on his way. good thing him and your brother are friends, huh?”

you nod, a small smile on your face before you look back at your phone for a second. the screen is notification free.

you open your messages and shoot your brother a text.

you: hey, jeongin’s coming to get you. he’ll be there quick, don’t worry okay?

brother boy: okay- oh, I think I see his car on the other side of the street. I’ll climb out the window.

you: no! just go out the door, I went out the back door. they didn’t even notice, you’ll be okay.

brother boy: ok. thank you

you: no problem. have fun with jeongin

he sends a thumbs up. you look up at felix, and kiss his jaw, making him smile. “thank you for helping me, lixie.”

he nods, kissing your forehead. “the least I could do, baby.”

you yawn, and he gently rubs your shoulder before scooting down a bit to lay you both down on the couch, and he pulls a soft blanket over top of you. he snuggles bbokari in your free arm, on the open side of the couch. “let’s get some rest, yeah?”

you nod sleepily against his chest, snuggling into it.

he kisses your head. “I love you, sleep good baby.”

you mumble something, and felix giggles, before wrapping his arms around you, holding you close as you both drift off to sleep.

you wish you didn’t have to run to him every time your parents fought, but you’re glad he’s there anyways. you’re parents fighting is shoved to the back of your head as you fall asleep, but you know you’ll have to talk to them tomorrow.

but tomorrow is the last thing in your mind.

——————————————————————————

hope you guys enjoyed!

please know that if you guys are dealing with things like this, and it’s getting bad, please don’t be afraid to tell somebody. this is a serious thing. my parents aren’t exactly innocent in this department, and I hate to have to hear it, and I don’t want the same for any of my readers or any others living with their parents.

this was a way for me to express my emotions through writing, involving someone who brings me much comfort. call it a coping mechanism, if you will. I hope people who are struggling can find a happy coping mechanism as well, and I wish you all the best <3

stay safe!

[lokissweater]

a good man

{bodyguard!kento nanami x rich girl f!reader}

summary: kento nanami has been your appointed bodyguard since the age of nineteen. his poised, calm, respectable mannerisms having you falling to your knees over him as he was completely different than any of the other boys in your life… for he was a man— taking care of your rowdy party girl behaviors and guiding you with the best advice and judgement he could possibly muster, and you loved him, gutted over the fact that he possibly only thought of you as a spoiled little brat who was useless and incompetent, as a client, and you wanting to be more than just that to him… except you were. for kento had already fallen over his knees for you.

warnings: MDNI. afab!reader, BRATTY AFFF RICH GIRL SPOILED READER she’s a little baddie o yes, LOWKEEEYYY brat tamer kento MEEOOOWWW, FLUUFFF GALLOOREE!!, slight angst!!, kento is SOOO SOOFTTT AND A LIL GENTLEMAANN, blowjob YUM, oral m receiving, mentions of doing the sex, deep throating, SEDUCTIVE AF READER BRO, cursing, mentions of alcohol and drinking, sexual themes, kento is older than reader by three years, mentions of reader having ‘pink cheeks’ is only to amplify and over-exaggerate feelings of embarrassment, shyness, and everything in between, and not to be taken literally! this is a work of fiction, and you can imagine many things for yourself :)

word count: 20.3k (i yap i fear)

authors note: I NEED A FUCKING MAN !!!! LIKE KENTO !!! RAAAAHDVSJSBSJSJ this BEAUTIFUL precious concept was a blend and mixy of multiple requests i got for sir nanami blended into one!! :,)) i hope i did you guys justice to those who requested and sent in ideas my loves !!! <3333 AND I HOPE YOU ALL LOVE ITTT JUST AS MUCH AS I DOOO AAHHH !!! I LOVE YOU ALL SO SO SO SOOO MUCHHH MWAAHHH !! <3333

“please don’t do that.”

you were undoubtedly the most defiant, stubborn girl kento had ever met.

“and why not?” you pouted. “it’s just for a little bit… and i can’t leave my friend hanging when she’s dealing with such a crisis! she needs my help.”

“your help.” kento repeated. “she needs your help going to a party…. at one in the morning.”

“it’s not a party it’s a small gathering—”

“y/n the hour is ungodly right now…” he sighed, rubbing his forehead. “i don’t believe this is very wise.”

you finished applying your blush and stepped back from your large vanity, quickly placing your brush back in it’s holder and grabbing your bottle of perfume, spritzing it.

“it’s fine ken!” you looked up and smiled. “i’ll just be gone for a little while i’ll be back before—”

“i’m sorry—” he held a palm up. “you’ll just be gone? darling, you realize i have to go with you.”

“but whyyy?” you mumbled, slouching dramatically and chucking your perfume bottle on your bed. “two hours! just give me two hours i promise i’ll be back—”

“i’m afraid not.”

“whyyyy!” you whined again, and kento only looked at you with a straight stoic face.

“because it’s my job to go with you and you know that.”

and you’d always been defiant and stubborn, kento having known you since you were a little girl as both his and your father were family friends for years, your upbringing a little different from his as your father was exponentially wealthy and owned various companies and properties, his parents just so happening to work for him and gain special bonds and camaraderie over the time of your growing lives.

though kento was only three years older than you— the gap nothing notable or too drastic, it sure as hell felt like it with how bratty and rebellious you were sometimes on a day to day basis that he had to bare witness of since the age of fourteen.

so why kento thought of you so much when you were the epitome of a spoiled princess… was a little unclear to him.

or maybe he did know exactly why— the reasoning transparently clear, to a fucking T actually… yet his pride and the oath he had set with your father the minute kento started pursuing his desired career after high school, hindered him from ever admitting anything to anyone. especially you.

and because he constantly ignored the way he felt, he was regrettably perplexed every time he was around you— which was literally every single second of every waking day since the moment he received his protection licensing… for kento was your bodyguard, hired by your father who saw his interests in technical protection training, and trusted no other man around his daughter other than kento himself, encouraging him to pursue it as a career in the promise that he would guarantee him a position— one with a pay that would have him set for the rest of his life so long as his precious little daughter was happy and safe.

and kento took the offer without so even as a twitch in his serious expression for two reasons.

the first was the obvious, to solidify proper employment for himself in the career that he’d always paid particular interest in ever since he was a kid— to make a man out of himself and work under prestigious and professional levels of security with someone, your father, who’s orders of authority were equivalent to a president, and a man he admired like no other and dreamed of owning a business that was as fruitful as his.

and the other… was to keep an eye on you.

you were reckless, bratty, naive, troublesome, silly, and never took absolutely anything seriously— all things that worried kento to no end anytime you so even managed to slip from his sharp attentive line of sight since the both of you were young.

and you escaping him happened a little more often than he’d like to admit.

like now.

“y/n—”

kento sharply turned upon hearing your snickering little giggles zooming past him and trailing from down the hall already, him swiftly retrieving his blazer that he had previously set on one of your lounge chairs and settling it over his arm, long and hasty steps striding out of your bedroom and down the hall, him peaking in several dark open doors and hallways of your ginormous mansion of a home on his way— the clicking of your heels and you still giggling serving as a guide for him to find you.

he sighed.

“darling, this isn’t going to change the fact that i still have to accompany you—”

kento rounded the corner and entered one of the many lounge area rooms your father used for business meetings and partnerships, your little head poking out from behind one of the large sofas with a disgruntled pouty look.

“says who?”

“says me.” he took the blazer from his arm and extended it, shaking it out a little and preparing to put it on. “and your father.”

you let out a tiny grumble, getting up off your knees and standing.

“but don’t you wanna go to sleep ken?”

“very much so.”

“so then go! i’m giving you permission heh!” you chirped, sending him a striking smile. “i won’t tell my father! or anyone! you deserve a good nights rest—”

“i’m going with you and that’s final.”

you threw your head back and groaned in frustration, kento finding your tantrum a little amusing as he chuckled and shrugged on his blazer.

“you want to go to this event, yes?”

you funnily slugged on over to his side with dragging steps, eyes to the floor. 

“mhm…”

“so then enough fighting and let’s go.” he stepped to the side and gently ushered you forward. “i’d like to be back before your father wakes up.”

you walked forward and out of the lounge room, the both of you beginning your journey down the hall and towards the grand staircase, kento following behind you as you still internally huffed and puffed about him coming along.

your refutes to kento joining you weren’t because you didn’t like him or anything like that… it was quite the opposite actually.

you were obsessed with that man.

“you scare my friends you know…”

the side of his lip quirked.

“do i?”

“mhm.”

“how so sweetheart?”

“i think it’s your face.” you turned your head around and looked behind you as you walked, hands wringing behind your back with a cute grin. “it’s so serious. and it might be because you’re always staring them down whenever they hang out with me.”

kento calmly walked ahead of you and stepped down a few steps, his hand automatically coming up to assist you and you taking it as you carefully descended down the steps, a gentle act he always did for you.

he pursed his lips. 

“i’m simply doing my job… but i suppose i could lay off a bit.”

you giggled. “no it’s okay ken! i agree. they just don’t know you like i do.”

ever since you practically met him you were obsessed— him being the most poised and respectful piece of hunk to ever grace your life, as kento was so unbelievably different from all of the other straight up boys in your life that deemed themselves to be men, when in reality they didn’t even come close to that whatsoever.

kento nanami was the definition of a man.

and out of everything that you’ve ever received on a silver platter with zero hesitation since technically birth… you wanted him the most.

except you were convinced he wasn’t obsessed with you like you were with him.

because the second kento became your bodyguard at the age of literal nineteen, there wasn’t ever a moment that you remember where he wasn’t with you and pulled to your side like a magnet— guarding and watching your every move and making sure that you were out of harms way no matter what, all things that were automatic and essentially part of the job description.

but you feared that it was just that.

that kento didn’t view you the way you viewed him… that you were just a client to him and that the reason he was always around was because he had to be, and not because he wanted to.

you feared that kento only saw you as some helpless spoiled girl who couldn’t do anything for herself and therefore always needed guidance, and you also feared that because he’d known you since you were little and became your bodyguard when you were sixteen, that he still saw you as a sixteen year old and not the full grown woman that you were now.

the thought was mortifying to you.

and you wondered if kento had ever thought about you as something more than just— a client? maybe.. maybe as a lover?

did he at least view you as a friend?

but more importantly, if he wasn’t your bodyguard… would he stay? 

kento assisted you down to the very last step as you shook away your thoughts, the both of you making your way out through the front glass double doors and over to his car in the open driveway, a sleek and shiny black luxury SUV that you always preferred to sit in rather than your own vehicle as his little passenger princess— always and forever and at times putting up a fight when your father would make you drive instead of kento, spouting some nonsense about how he didn’t want you to forget how to drive and become an incompetent girl.

and you’d each time just scoff and roll your eyes— your father always looking for ways to jab scoldings at you and fuss over every choice you’d make regardless of how big or small it was, believing you to be an incompetent girl anyways and you choosing to ignore him and scowl as you moved behind kento’s big buff frame to hide, him knowing to take over and speak for you whenever you did, as your father listened to him better than he did you ever since you were young.

kento in a way also scolded you often and fussed over your choices… but he was gentle. never raising his voice at you or overstepping any boundaries that made you feel like you were stupid and incapable of things, him always giving you the chance to fix it or refute with an open mind and heart to hear you out… and you loved kento. that was a given.

and your dramatic self deemed that the day kento yelled at you for the first time for whatever reason— was the day that you died.

kento smoothly smiled over what you said with closed lips and opened the car door for you, you getting in and pinching the skirt of your flowy mesh dress to readjust once you were seated, straightening it up over your legs as he rounded over and got in the drivers seat.

“i know a way you can lay off a bit so you don’t scare off my friends tonight ken!”

he started the engine and flickered on the high beams, your eyes squinting at the sudden brightness ahead of you.

“and that is..?”

you grinned and leaned over the center console, placing your elbow on it and propping your chin up with your palm, him looking at you expectantly.

so handsome.

“why don’t you stare at me instead of staring at them!”

kento breathed in as he looked away, steering around and out of the driveway while your close proximity and sweet expensive perfume wafted all around him— filling up his every system with everything that was wonderfully you as he tried hard not to let it show.

“i believe i already do just that.” he spoke. “it’s my job to watch you darling.”

“okay then watch me harder.”

he blinked, your wording somehow twinging a sense of provocativeness when it wasn’t anything like that at all, and he wanted to wash his brain out with holy water for thinking of something inappropriate like that with you.

but you leaned even closer, lips by his ear as he turned the steering wheel to make an easy left.

“you’re supposed to have eyes only for me right?”

kento swallowed.

“i’m supposed to have eyes everywhere.”

you playfully rolled your eyes and leaned back a bit. “okay… but maybe for tonight, just me!”

“i’m afraid if it’s just you i won’t be able to watch for any other signs of abnormality—”

“oh my god booo!” you huffed and plopped back down in your seat, arms crossing as you stared ahead. “you’re no fun…”

kento chuckled and lifted his arm, patting your head and you blushing before he placed his hand back on the gear shift, the only thing on your mind now was how much you wanted to stuff his big fingers in your mouth—

“the event is still the one on melrose street, correct?”

your eyes snapped in his direction. “huh? oh yes! yes it is.”

he pursed his lips, an uncertain look on his face as you faltered and furrowed your brows.

“what ken? what’s wrong?”

“is it the same host and organization as last time?”

“umm…” you pulled your phone out from your purse and scrolled to the initial invite you had received through a friend, perfectly manicured nails tapping away. “uh huh! i’m pretty sure… how come?”

“i don’t think it’d be very wise to go… you got extremely inebriated the last time we went.”

you snorted and waved him off. “that’s because it was my friends birthday ken. i was celebrating!”

“you barfed in a bush as soon as we got home.”

“part of the experience!”

kento shook his head and sighed through his nose, a small smile on his face as he peaked over at you from the side.

“rowdy little girl.”

little girl.

and you felt an unpleasant tug at your heart, you pursing your lips and wanting to defy what he called you.

“i was fine after though, was i not?”

you suddenly grabbed his hand and dropped it down on your exposed thigh, his rough hand making contact with your skin as he accidentally jerked the steering wheel and looked at you with bewildered eyes, you only throwing your head back and laughing.

“what?” you spoke in between giggles. “i’m cold! and your hand’s so warm—”

“honey—”

“your job is to take care of me right?” you sweetly smiled, and he felt a flutter of familiar yet confusing affection swirl up in his chest at the sight. “and you’re doing just that!”

kento cleared his throat and nodded, hand staying on your thigh and you giddy on the inside as he held it.

“just know that i have a blanket in the back in case my hand doesn’t suffice.” he mentioned, pulling up to a gated community. “the weather is a bit colder these days.”

your eyes softened, staring at the side of his chiseled jaw and face as he exchanged a few words with the security guard at the front, flashing his ID before the guard gave him the all clear and muttered something over his walkie talkie, the gates slowing sliding open as a result.

“why do you have a blanket in the back ken?” you asked softly and looked down, the tip of your index finger tracing over the prominent veins on the back of his hand.

“for you.” he replied. “you get cold frequently.”

you grinned.

“awww you remembered!—”

you unbuckled your seatbelt, jumped up from your seat, and flung your arms around his neck and practically stuffed his cheek up against your chest as you gushed, kento’s eyes blinking wide eyed and cheeks fucking flaring as he tried to keep steady hands on the wheel and not swerve into the garbage bins in front of the designated mansion, music already blaring through and seeping through the vents of the car as he fumbled to shift the gear into park— stiffening the hell out of his neck and not daring to turn his head even the slightest in your direction in fear of facing your breasts head on.

“i— i appreciate the sentiment sweetheart—”

you pulled back a tiny bit, your arms still tightly locked around his neck but giving him enough space to turn his head to look up at you now, your twinkling hyper eyes shining even through the darkness of the car, kento almost forgetting about the close proximity between the two of you entirely, and also almost forgetting about how this was— regrettably… considered to be inappropriate.

he was your bodyguard, he was supposed to protect you, not think about the way your perfect smile right now was so incredibly soul crushing and doing it in just the right way too— suffocating his entire being as he tried hard again, in real time, to kick those disrespectful thoughts to the back of his mind and focus on what he was meant to be doing and thinking… all of which pertained to his guidance for you, and your safety, most of all.

but you were beautiful. 

there was no denying that.

“you know me best out of anyone ken.”

and he did. he truly truly did.

but to kento, you were that forbidden fruit, cast away up into the highest of branches and dangling off of the tallest most unreachable tree of all— glimmering against the sun, magnificent… waiting to be picked by the person who dared to and claim it as their own without a single worry of the troubles that came with ravishing it.

but claiming and ravishing that forbidden fruit definitely came with it’s dire consequences, and kento nanami was an honorable man. 

if he were to give in to his pulsing desires for you, desires that he couldn’t even exactly make sense of as he continued to manifest total and utter blockage in his mind to prevent those thoughts from seeping through, not only would he deal with the embarrassing repercussions with your father— his boss, but inevitably drag you down with him too, as he knew your father has always been rather harsh with you.

and you didn’t deserve to be dragged down just because he couldn’t control his emotions.

you frowned, tilting your head as you assessed kento’s strange far off look.

“ken?” you asked. “kenny ken?”

“eh?” he blinked rapidly. “oh i’m sorry y/n. i was… thinking.”

“thinking?” 

you let him go and sat back in your seat, the warmth from your arms dissipating and the goosebumps around his neck prominent now by the chilliness of the car.

“thinking about what?” you quipped, smiling again. “about meee?”

night and day.

“i’m afraid not.” he switched off the ignition and held the keys in his hand. “more about how you should be at home and in bed and most definitely not here.”

you pouted, slumping in your seat as you watched him get out of the car and walk over to your side, opening your door for you and offering a hand for you to take.

“but ken i’m helping a friend.” you took his hand and carefully stepped out, him closing the door behind you as you began walking up the sidewalk with kento following close behind you, the car beeping and flashing its lights to signify he had locked it.

“honey, your friend is a grown woman.” you both walked up the steps and continued down the long wide driveway, other guests traveling alongside you towards the mansion. “she doesn’t need moral support from you to attend an event.”

“yeah and i don’t need a bodyguard for every little thing i do, do i?” you countered, slowing down your steps a little and nudging your shoulder with his. “hm?”

he gave you a deadpanned look.

“actually, you do.”

you scoffed. “no i do not.”

the two of you entered through the grand entrance— doors already open and with a set of security guards on each side as you passed them, kento’s already alert senses amplified now that you both were in an unpredictable loud environment such as this, and with way too many people for kento to keep track of besides yourself as he scanned the area, ticking the usual and automatic tiny boxes in his head that indicated the area was alright for the time being.

“if my friend is such a grown woman, then so am i!” you yelled over the music as you walked through the mansion to get to the pool area outside, passing by several caterers and butlers with small appetizer dishes on silver trays or champagne glasses, you taking one as your gaze switched between person to person to see if you could try and find anyone you recognized.

kento shook his head a little.

contrary to your popular belief, you never acted like a grown woman sometimes— constantly rebellious and spontaneous with no hesitations to do anything remotely reckless… and that worried him to absolutely no end as he was living in constant stress over something happening to you— something that he could easily prevent and steer you away from because that’s what he was fucking there for.

but you were always against it, and he didn’t know why when it was simply just protection.

upon entering the pool area, your eyes lit up at the rowdy scene before you— party guests jumping into the pool in full fledged clothing or throwing each other in, the bar at the end of the backyard lively and busy with multiple individuals already drunk off of their minds as they clumsily passed by you and nearly tumbled you over, kento each time quick to grab your shoulders and gently pull you away so they’d just about miss you and continue on.

and the minute he caught sight of your group of friends off to the side of the bubbling jacuzzi right before you did, every single one of them already inebriated and rambunctious, he knew he was in for a night of chasing you around and getting you to sober up a little to refrain yourself from running across the lawn in only your undergarments like the last party you both attended.

“y/n! hi!” one of your friends slightly slurred, the one with the ‘crisis’, reaching behind her to grab a red solo cup of god knows what and passing it to you. “here! i just got some from the kitchen!”

“what is it?” you laughed, on the verge of placing the brim to your lips when kento suddenly nudged you, gently prying it away from your fingers and lifting it up to his nose for inspection, you playfully rolling your eyes as you turned back to your friend.

“dunno!” she shrugged, flashing you a wobbly grin. “it’s a mix of tequila aaanddd… cranberry tonic! yeah!”

“smells awfully strong.” kento muttered in your ear, passing the cup back to you. “just moderate your intake.”

“okay dad.” you mocked, the little side smile on your face never failing to deactivate any further scoldings from him about how you shouldn’t drink that mix and maybe get something else, him deciding to just let you have fun regardless of the work he was about to be put through… as it was hard for kento to say no to you at times anyways.

you brought the rim back to your lips and took a sip, your face immediately scrunching up and gagging.

“the fuck is this?” you placed a hand over your mouth. “tastes nothing like cranberry and just straight vodka—”

you ended up drinking the entire cup and two more fills after that, kento each time gently advising you not to and that you’d had enough, but you only pouting and bratty and defying him with every attempt he made at pulling the drink away from you, a water bottle in hand that he’d snagged from one of the coolers as he swiftly moved through the twists and turns of the crowd to stay caught up with you, a skill he was an expert at at this point considering how often you disappeared from his line of sight.

“sweetheart please—” kento caught you by the waist just as you were about to literally jump in the pool, you giggling and hiccuping as he dragged you away. “let’s take a seat for a moment alright? you need to drink water.” 

“what i need is a teeny weeny kiss from you ken!”

he faltered, eyes dropping to the ground as he continued to half drag and half carry your body to a nearby table away from the commotion by the pool, setting you down on a chair.

“you need water.” he pushed as he knelt down on a knee in front of you, unscrewing the cap. “and i’m forbidding you from attending any events like this for a month.”

“a month?!” you whined, head dramatically falling back in desperation. “but why? what did i do?!”

“i told you to moderate your intake.” he gently grabbed your jaw and brought the water bottle to your lips, carefully holding it up for you to drink. “you were just about to jump in the pool darling and ruin your dress.”

lowering the bottle, your cheeks cutely puffed up with water as you shook your head side to side.

you swallowed. “lies. i was simply walking!”

he fixed the strap of your dress that was halfway sliding off, pulling it back over your shoulder.

“yes into the pool.” he brought the water bottle back to your lips and you drank some more before he lowered it again. “you need to be more careful y/n.”

you pouted. “are you mad at me ken?”

“not mad just quite stressed—”

“pull my dress up and spank me then.”

kento slapped a hand over his eyes and shook his head, cheeks buzzing pink at your ludicrous statement.

“don’t say things like that honey.”

“and why not?” you tilted your head, pearly white teeth glimmering against the warm lights of the backyard as he dropped his hand. “thought you loved me.”

“please sober up.” he breathed out exhaustedly, heart hammering against his fucking chest as he made you drink water again. “before you say something silly again—”

you abruptly pulled back and a few droplets of water dribbled down your chin, kento quick to grab the handkerchief in his suit to pat you dry as you narrowed your eyes.

“you think loving me is silly?” you muttered, a little slur at the end of your sentence.

“of course not darling.” he spoke softly, placing the handkerchief down on the table behind you. “the other thing you said was silly—”

“what— spanking me?” you lit up again. “but it’s hot. and i want it. you should do it once we get to the car—”

kento slapped a hand over your mouth this time, wide frantic eyes looking around to see if anyone had heard your loud lewd blabbering, his face absolutely fucking red at this point as he tried not to vividly imagine what you had just said… and pathetically failing at it too.

“enough. we’re going home. you have brunch with the monroe’s tomorrow.”

“nuh uh!”

you pulled his hand away from your mouth and gripped the edges of your chair, trying to cement yourself to it as he wrapped his arms around your body and pulled and tugged, you laughing when he’d manage to of course— lift you up… but the chair along with it as well.

“let go please.”

“nope!”

“i said let go y/n.”

“if you give me a kiss!”

kento put you back down and sighed.

“you are unbelievably inebriated.”

“and you are unbelievably handsome.” you cheesed as you got closer, your nose brushing against his and kento’s breath catching in his throat, stiffening up.

“darling you don’t know what you’re saying—”

“yes i do.” you spoke, endearingly nudging your nose softly with his and kento’s eyes warming at the act. “you’re gods favorite.”

hopeless hopeless girl…

his eyes sinfully flickered down to your pretty lips, plushy and delightful as they perfectly stretched in such a way to form a striking smile that always sent men to their knees wherever you both went, him baring witness to it all as your bodyguard… and him included— falling to his knees over you.

for kento was just as hopeless as you.

but he was better at ignoring it until it became this puzzling blur in his brain that confused the ever living shit out of him.

“let’s go home.”

his breath fanned against your lips and you softly shook your head.

“kiss me then we’ll go.”

kento’s forehead fell against yours, eyes closing in borderline pain as his big hands came up to cup your cheeks, your own eyes loopily widening with overactive exciting thoughts over what was about to transpire.

if he was about to kiss you… could this mean he didn’t view you as just a client? as a little girl? but a woman?

was he considering it? did you have a chance? was he actually about to fucking kiss you?—

kento sharply breathed in and turned your head slightly to the side, planting his lips hard on your cheek and him unmoving for a moment, you still wide eyed and shocked as your cheek mushed up against the force of his mouth.

he pulled back with a smack! and stood, hand extending out for you to take.

“ready now?”

your fingers slowly came up to the side of your face in a complete daze, because though it wasn’t a full blown kiss, the linger of his lips was still there even after the gesture was long over, your little cheek tingling and warm.

you nodded, taking his hand and attempting to stand but reeling over as you did, your head in complete drunken disarray as kento’s arms quickly shot out and caught you from falling face first on the ground.

“i can’t—” you giggled, hiccuping between each laugh. “i can’t walk ken. and my feet hurt.”

“i’m aware.” he sighed, sitting you back down on the chair and kneeling again, grabbing your ankle.

“what are you doing?” you asked, watching the way he propped up your foot and tugged at the clasp on your heels, carefully sliding it off and beginning to do the same with the other.

“you’re in pain, yes?” he slipped your other heel off and stood, placing your heels on a nearby table before positioning himself next to you, sliding a hand under your knees. “put your arms around my neck sweetheart.”

you did as told, your little heart singing happy drunken tunes over him being such a gentleman and taking care of you in the way that he was, you knowing in the morning you’d regret it and be embarrassed, but choosing to bask in the moment for the meantime and deal with the horrific hungover consequences later.

kento easily lifted you with only one fucking arm supporting you under your knees as you held on, his other hand grabbing your heels before weaving through the other tables and venturing out of the pool area, everybody else too inebriated to care or notice some big bulky man carrying you out through the backyard and inside the mansion, your head resting against his chest.

“are you alright?” he asked, taking a quick glance down at you as he reached the grand entrance to exit. “do you feel ill?”

“no i’m okay.” you smiled. “just thinking about the fact that you’re a cheater.”

he chuckled. “a cheater? in what way?”

kento carefully stepped down the steps and began his walk across the spacious lawn back to the car, you tightening your grip on his neck and wanting him to hold you like this forever.

“the deal was for a kiss.”

“and i gave you one.” he softly smiled, squeezing your thigh a little in emphasis.

“on the cheek!” you retorted. “i wanted one on the mouth.”

kento blushed furiously and looked away, trying to straighten himself up as he walked down the sidewalk with you in his arms.

“you didn’t specify darling.”

“yeaahhh right.” you mumbled, watching the lights of his car flash up ahead as it unlocked by the click of kento’s keys, him coming up to the passenger side and opening the door. “just say you’re repulsed by me.”

he scoffed. “you’re saying silly things again.”

“the proof is in the pudding.”

kento carefully bent and set you down on your seat, placing your heels next to you on the floor and straightening out the skirt of your dress for you. 

“the proof is that you’re drunk. i’m not making any moves like that when you’re not in the correct state of mind.”

you gasped and slapped a hand over your mouth. “are you saying you would have? if i was sober? did you bring my water with you? i need to drink it right now where is it—”

“dear god i did not say that.” he closed the door and came round to the other side, an amused little smile on his lips as he got in. “and i’m sorry but i left it behind.”

“kentooo!” you whined. “now how else are you supposed to kiss me?”

he shakily pressed the ‘on’ button for the ignition and looked away, your bold words and requests and moves serving as sheer torment to him as they one after the other kept being thrown at his face, him aware this is how you usually were anyways, but ten times unbelievably worse now that you were intoxicated.

and kento was growing weaker.

“i’m not supposed to do anything.” he backed out of the parking space and sped off. “and it’s nearly four in the morning y/n. you have brunch with the monroe’s at ten and you’re supposed to be up by eight.”

you groaned, head dropping back against the headrest as you crossed your arms. 

“i never wanted to go to that in the first place.” you muttered. “the monroe’s and their girl friends and whoever else is going are a bunch of boring bitches. all they talk about is what their daddies just bought them.”

the yearly monroe brunch was a way for you and the other daughters of your fathers various business partners to bond and maintain connections, some sort of peace treaty between them all so long as their little preppy daughters were kept satisfied and spoiled, your father forcing you to go every year and demanding you to keep friendships with them all, insisting that it would serve beneficial to him with their parents and help nourish the business even more than it already was.

you genuinely liked the monroe daughters and the rest of the girls at first, sixteen year old you seeking their validation and acceptance for years and constantly following after every little thing that they did, afraid of slipping up and landing in their rotten graces as soon as you did anything that would upset them… until they started badmouthing kento.

after that you didn’t give a fuck. 

because anyone that was so willing as to talk bad about such a respectful and kind man as kento to you, was someone who immediately feel in your rotten graces, each and every one of them doing so the minute they started calling him weird for constantly following you around, putting him down for it and saying he should find something better to do than be your bodyguard, and that you didn’t need such high class protection and deeming it unnecessary.

whether they were jealous of the fact that you had a bodyguard and they didn’t was mystery to you, but ever since that day, you despised the yearly monroe brunch, you now aware of who they truly were and realized how blind you were to it just because you were seeking their validation— wanting nothing to do with them from that point forward and begging your father to just let you skip out and that they were better off without you there anyways.

but he never listened.

kento laughed, nodding curtly over what you said. “although true, you still have to go honey.”

“i don’t know why my father can’t just piss off.” you sighed and looked out the window, cars zooming past you as he drove down the freeway. “i really don’t see the point in me going.”

“you’re an important asset.” he spoke. “all of the daughters coming together is tradition.”

“what— to sit there and drink tea and eat muffins? stupidest tradition i’ve ever heard ken.”

he chuckled, reaching over to pat your thigh and your cheeks going pinky as he did so, your drunken mind still somehow clearly recalling when he had his warm hand on you earlier in the car prior to the party.

he went to retract his hand and you quickly stopped him, timidly placing it back on your thigh and settling your hand over his big one, the both of you nervously avoiding eye contact and choosing not to say anything.

kento understood wholeheartedly why you hated going to the monroe brunch so much, for he wasn’t particularly a fan of hearing them talk for hours about who’d they just dumped or what they’d just bought, and he sympathized with you— really, your father although a man he admired for his work ethic and sought after for his approval, was unrighteously stoic with you and always dismissed your thoughts and opinions, the fact saddening kento whenever he witnessed it first hand.

“you’ll be alright.” he spoke up quietly again, noticing the way you were dozing off a little in your seat. “it’s just for brunch. you won’t have to worry about seeing them again until next year.”

“you mean until the dinner party we’re hosting next week.” you sleepily muttered, eyes closed as both of your hands laid over his that was on your thigh, holding it almost as if you were afraid that kento would pull away, his eyes softening at the thought.

“ah, that’s right.” he pulled into your gated community, the security guard already recognizing kento and his car as he merely waved and pressed the button to open the gate, driving through once it did entirely. “i had forgotten.”

“mmm..” you hummed, and he smiled, facing the road again and turning the wheel with every curve and turn of your neighborhood, your dimly lit mansion coming into view eventually and him pulling up to park in your grandiose driveway next to you car, turning off the ignition.

you laid still and pretty in your seat, chest slowly rising and falling as you softly breathed through your nose, you in a drunken slumber as kento quietly got out of the car and went over to your side, opening your door.

“darling.” he whispered, shuffling an arm under your knees and the other on your back. “i need to carry you up, okay? hold onto me please.”

you mumbled incoherently and did so, your arms limply wrapping around his neck as he carried you out of the car and shut the door with a push from his leg, locking his car and the little horn going off again as he hoisted you up, walking up the stone path of your driveway and up to the grand double doors— one of your housekeeping staff already there holding the door open for you both, them also used to your late night partying and shenanigans.

“thank you.” he whispered gratefully as he passed, and they nodded, locking up the house behind you as kento continued on up the staircase and down the spacious hallway, his dress shoes clicking against the shiny flooring and echoing across the silence as he reached your bedroom.

he carefully set you down on your bed once inside, you groggily rubbing your eyes as he stepped back and over to your large vanity, rummaging through your things and drawers while knocking a few nail polishes and perfumes over— various clatterings and kento cursing under his breath over the noise, it making you sleepily giggle.

“what are you looking for ken?” you whispered, one of your eyes tiredly peeking open.

“your— ah… i’m afraid i can’t remember what it’s called—”

he gestured to his face. “you remove your makeup with it sweetheart.”

you closed your eye again. “oh my wipes..? they’re in the bottom drawer to your left.”

he opened the corresponding drawer and reached in, taking out your makeup remover wipes and walking back over to you, peeling open the packing and sliding an individual white wipe out, you lifting a hand out to grab it but stopping once he moved it away from you.

you drowsily looked up at him, about to speak until he took your chin in between his fingers and tilted you up, him bending a bit and lifting his hand to wipe off your makeup, delicately removing it with precision as you tiredly let a small smile grow on your lips.

“i can do it ken it’s okay.”

he shook his head, you closing your eyes as he wiped off your mascara. “oh it’s alright you’re exhausted… and i’ve seen you do it quite a few times.”

you peaked your other eye open, his handsome face so unforgettable against the moonlight streaming through your balcony doors that your little sleepy heart started gushing over literally just who he was, your head leaning into his touch.

“kay…”

he finished wiping the rest of it off after a minute, tossing it into your little bin under your vanity desk before walking over to your walk-in closet and disappearing for a few moments, coming back out with one of your silk baby blue pajama sets in hand, offering it out to you.

“change please.” you sluggishly took the set from him and nodded. “i’ll be just outside—”

“no it’s okay.” you stood and reached for the hem of your dress. “you can stay—”

you pulled up your dress with no fucks given and kento’s eyes bulged open, immediately slapping a hand over his eyes and spinning around with his heart thumping on overdrive, the image of your perfect body adorned with a lacy white bra and panties a hard one to try and— unfortunately— forget for the sake of respecting your privacy and the most intimate parts of yourself.

you giggled and kento shook his head in desperation, placing a hand on his hip.

“don’t do things like that honey.” he scolded gently, a hand still over his eyes as you changed. “at least wait until i avert my attention—”

“you don’t wanna see?” you pouted, finishing by buttoning up your top and tugging at the sleeve of his suit for him to turn around. “it’s all for you ken.”

for— for—

oh dear god help him.

“it’s time to sleep.” he reached around you and pulled back the covers of your bed, you whining. “come on you have brunch with the monroe’s—”

you grumbled and climbed on, dropping yourself on the mattress and shuffling under your various fluffy blankets and sheets, him helping you in pulling them over you until they were settled comfortably by your chest.

“kento.”

“hm?” he hummed, still fiddling with your blankets and basically tucking you in, you finding it incredibly sweet.

“thank you for always taking care of me.”

he stopped, eyes flickering to yours before a soft close lipped smile spread across his face.

“of course darling.” he patted your head. “it’s what i’m here for.”

you knew what he was actually supposed to be there for was only for your protection— to only clock in when you went to events and clock out the second said event was over and done with and you were back home safe and sound.

except kento clocked in the moment your eyes opened for the day, and clocked out as soon as they closed again at night, him by your side through everything in your life and not just for special events, but making sure you had had enough to eat and that you weren’t sick after you spent the day out without a jacket (much to his pestering), that you finished your homework when you were in school and helped you with it as best as he could, and that he was your shoulder to cry on whenever your father yelled at you over something idiotic again— all in all taking care of you like you thought a lover would do for their most treasured thing.

and you hoped you were kento’s most treasured thing.

he was yours, after all.

“i like when you call me darling.” you murmured softly. “and honey. and sweetheart.”

kento swallowed and blushed, thankful that it was sort of dark in your room and that you couldn’t see how pink in the face he actually was over something so minimal.

“i’m glad.” he replied. “you’d let me know if it ever makes you uncomfortable correct?”

you quickly shook your head. “it never makes me uncomfortable ken… ever.”

he nodded, smiling in satisfaction.

“you know what does make me uncomfortable?”

he faltered, brows furrowing in concern.

“what honey?”

“the fact that you still haven’t kissed me on the lips—”

he sharply breathed in and leaned back to stand upright, you giggling and protesting as you flung your arms around his neck before he could, bringing him roughly back down to you and basically pulling him on top of you as kento let out a little oof at the force.

he planted his palms flat on your mattress, trying to lift himself up a bit but unable to due to the astronomical grip you had on him.

“y/n i’m crushing you let me—”

“so?”

“you won’t be able to properly breathe—”

“and? this is the way to go!”

kento laughed into your neck then, managing to lift himself up at least a little bit  to look at you.

“silly girl.” he murmured, and you grinned.

how stunning.

his eyes dangerously switched to your lips, and you noticed this, your heart skipping a small beat in your chest.

“ken.”

“yes?”

“what do you view me as.”

his gaze shifted and locked with yours, his brows pinching together.

“what do you mean honey?”

“like—” you pursed your lips, looking away to the side in embarrassment. “do you see me as just… a client? or just a friend? or like a little girl who doesn’t know how to do anything? or spoiled?”

“a client?” he repeated. “not at all that’s— an awfully wrong term for what you are.”

your head snapped in his direction.

“really?”

he sat up, sitting himself down on the edge of your bed next to you and you scooching over.

“you are spoiled.” he continued, chuckling once he saw the hopeful expression on your face fall and turn sour. “but it doesn’t mean that you’re incapable of doing things… i’ve never once thought of you as such.”

you hummed in acknowledgement, relieved a little.

“do you see me as a woman?” you asked softly.

he looked at you confusedly.

“well— of course. that’s what you are, aren’t you?”

“no i mean—” you sighed, struggling to get the words out as a blush rose to your cheeks. “like a woman. like the kind that makes you want to…”

you faltered, and he waited patiently for you to continue.

“like the kind of woman you’d want to kiss and things… like— like the kind you’d see yourself falling in love with… or am i just— a friend?”

kento froze.

were you still drunk?

“sweetheart it’s not wise to talk about things like this when you’re inebriated please rest—”

“i’m not!” you frantically shook your head. “i sobered up a long time ago…”

dear god.

he can’t answer your question. he can’t answer your question without straight up lying to you just so he can keep that boundary of respect he had for you and your father, to keep the vow kento had with him as your protector, as your guide…

but kento nanami wasn’t a liar.

and kento nanami loved you— a feeling he had idiotically mistaken for confusion when it was actually the plain and utter truth, for what he felt for you was clearer than anything else in his life, and absolutely nothing about it was ever confusing like he swore up and down before that it was.

he’d known…. he’d always known. and that’s perhaps why he took the bodyguard position in the first place without a fret to your father.

to stay by your side. 

to make sure you were safe… with him.

but did he dare?… did he dare to take the pretty forbidden fruit he had tried so hard for years to stay clear from? to leave it glimmering and healthy to flourish on its own no matter how badly he wanted to harvest it and claim for himself?

“i—”

he hesitated, your beady doe eyes looking at him so hopefully that it clenched his heart without mercy.

“i love you…” he spoke softly. “but i don’t think you being with me would do you justice.”

you blinked, unsure if you should take that positively or negatively—

“but i love you still… you know that.”

you looked at him.

“but love in what way?” you responded.

because love you in the way of a friend or family member sure, and you knew kento did at least that much and wouldn’t have spent so much time with you since the ages of eleven and fourteen if otherwise.

but did he love you?

“love… in the way that makes me want to kiss you.” he tugged at the watch on his wrist, referencing to what you had said before. “and love in the way that makes me want to give everything i have to you honey.”

because he has. he’s been.

“really?” you whispered, the wind completely knocked out of your lungs as he picked up his head to look at you, nodding.

kento opened his arms out for you then and you slowly pushed the covers off of you, crawling over and extending your arms to wrap around his abdomen, his around your shoulders while you tucked your face into his chest.

“but i don’t think you being with me would do you justice my love…” he repeated, and you frowned, already feeling your bottom lip wobble.

“why?”

“i have too much respect for you and your father.” he explained, caressing your hair through his fingers. “and i feel that i’m taking advantage of my position by being with you always… that i’m not giving you a chance to know what it’s like to be with someone else—”

“i don’t want anyone else.” you cut him off. “i don’t need to explore to figure that out ken.”

you looked up at him, cheek mushed up against him. “you’re with me always too… do you need a chance to know what it’s like to be with someone else?”

“no.” he shook his head. “no i absolutely do not.”

you giggled softly. “see? then why would i need one?”

he stared down at you softly, a warm smile that could kill millions if he so let it on his face, and you blushed. 

“i guess you’re right sweetheart.”

kento continued to run his big fingers through your hair, you dozing off a little at the soothing feeling.

“i don’t think your father will be very happy knowing i love you.”

you grumbled. “who cares what that old fart thinks—”

he snorted, lightly tapping your shoulder in a form of scolding, you laughing and holding him tighter.

“he doesn’t have to know for now…” you murmured. “and honestly i didn’t even know you loved me so i think we’re okay—”

“i’m sorry?” he blinked. “i thought i made it somewhat… clear?”

“no!” you countered. “you rejected every move i made ken… you had me basically begging for you.”

his brows pinched in guilt. “i’m sorry my love… i was doing it more for you than for me i— … i didn’t have any ill intent behind it.”

“it’s okay ken.” you smiled cutely, pulling back and propping yourself up by your palms on your mattress, leaning and planting a sweet kiss to his cheek. “though you could’ve just told me you had a begging kink i would’ve understood and begged you to put your fingers in my—”

kento’s eyes widened and he shut you up with a hand over your mouth, your muffled giggles seeping through as he shook his head.

“you have the most vulgar mouth.”

you took his wrist and brought it away, your lips coming next to his ear.

“do something about it then.”

he stilled.

“or do you want me to say what other things i want you to do to me?”

“enough you need to rest—” he placed his hands on your waist with the intent to pull you back and lay you down to sleep… but he just couldn’t do it, his grip shakily tightening instead.

“what i need…” you slid your hands agonizingly slow up his chest and around his broad shoulders, your lips brushing against his with hot steamy desperate breaths fanning across each others faces. “is to know what it’s like to have your fingers in my mouth ken…”

“darling please—”

“—i wanna lick all over them—”

he respects you... dear god kento respects you he— he couldn’t possibly indulge in—

“—so i can show you how good i can suck and choke on your cock—”

kento mushed your cheeks together with his fingers and swallowed your lips up, you letting out a little squeak of surprise as his other unoccupied arm locked around your waist and pulled you flush against him, him hungrily kissing you and gulping down your humming moans of satisfaction as you hurriedly swung a leg over his thighs, straddling him.

you disconnected from his lips and pulled back, taking his hand and bringing it up to your mouth as you pushed him down on the mattress with your unoccupied one, kento looking up at you so hot and bothered and astonished as you hovered over him, plump precious lips wrapping around his index and ring finger and sensually sliding it deeper and deeper in your mouth across your wet tongue.

“jesus sweetheart…” he breathed out, eyes entirely transfixed on the way your lips closed around his fingers entirely and sucked, your head pumping slowly and you delighted over how hard he felt underneath his slacks over something as just you sucking on his fingers.

“m’gonna suck your dick.” you spoke with a mouthful of his digits, and he sat up a little.

“my darling you don’t— you don’t have to do that it’s alright—”

you slid his fingers out of your mouth and pouted. “but i want to… unless you don’t want me to? or do you prefer someone else to do it—”

“what? stop that.” he shook his head, reaching up to tuck some of your hair behind your ear as you snickered, his hand coming down to cup your cheek. “i’m just worried about keeping you up… you have to get ready in a couple of hours.”

you shrugged, giving him a little grin.

“if it’s you and your big dick keeping me up i could care less.”

you swung your thighs off of his lap and stood momentarily, dropping down to your knees and positioning yourself in between his legs— kento’s rounded eyes and shaky breaths making you laugh a little as you reached for the buckle of his belt, tugging the clasp open and him helping you in slipping it off before reaching in his pants, a trembling but needy hand pulling out his thick cock and slowly pumping it.

kento would’ve never thought you’d be kneeling in between his legs and about to do something he’d only fleetingly thought of, the sinful images quickly grabbed by him before he could materialize them in his head any further and tossed in the trash without looking back, embarrassed and awkwardly flustered that he’d thought of such a thing when you were usually just sitting there on your vanity desk dolling yourself up, or simply speaking to him.

he would’ve never thought that the questions of being something more to you than just your bodyguard, would actually actualize itself, your pretty lips beginning to wrap around the tip of his cock and all he can think about is you and how many days he spent yearning for you, confusing it for uncertainty, and lying to himself before giving in to the fact that he did love you. 

and very much so.

to kento, it was a privilege to undergo this intimate experience given by gracious you, and he only wished he didn’t push it away for so many years and dismissed your obvious attempts.

for what was happening now, was heavenly compared to the fleeting thoughts he had tossed in the trash prior… and your pace was rapid, your deprived little mouth that had begged for him time and time again slurping the ever living soul out of him as he clenched his jaw to keep his moans in, afraid of your father or any of the other housekeeping staff hearing what was filthily happening inside your bedroom— his face crossed over in pleasurable shock at how messy and drooly you were all over his dick without even allowing yourself the chance to breathe as you sucked. 

“honey—” he heaved, swallowing hard as he gathered your hair up into a makeshift ponytail to keep it out of your face. “s—slow down or you’ll choke—”

you didn’t listen, your thighs clenching together to ease yourself a little as you sunk your mouth down and gagged, the tip of his cock lodged in the back of your throat so deliciously that he let out a string of rare curses from his lips.

you slurped back up and pulled off of his length with a pop, you sticking your tongue out and smiling too as you tapped his girthy dick on your tongue teasingly.

“but i want to choke ken…” you placed an open mouthed slutty kiss on the side. “and i’d like you to fuck my mouth too please—”

“shit—” he cleared his throat, his balls feeling awfully full and heavy as you parted your lips and took him in again. “but i could potentially harm you—”

you pulled off again. “kento i don’t care just use me or i’ll make you—”

he quickly gathered your soft hair again, leaned back on an elbow and shoved you back down, bucking his hips up and hitting your uvula so hard that you choked, eyes immediately watering and you moaning as he continued to buck his hips up and force you down, sloshing gurgling noises from you fueling his every being with ecstasy, throwing his head back and eyelids fluttering closed.

“you have such a dirty mouth sweetheart…” he grunted. “where did you learn that from? huh?”

you tried to respond, his relentless hip thrusting and filling your mouth up preventing you from getting anything out besides choking noises and spit, kento picking his head back up and looking at you with half lidded eyes.

“i hope you’re not speaking to other little dumb boys with it and teasing them the way you tease me…”

you tried to shake your head no and get it across that you absolutely were not— that you were physically repulsed by any other man making moves on you in your life because they were never him… but his big cock stuffing your throat was drowning out your every attempt so good that you couldn’t.

“no?” a little dazed smile played at his lips, his abdomen tightening and signifying that he was about to blow his entire pent up load in your mouth. “good honey… i don’t want you wasting your time.”

he bucked his hips up faster and forced your head down deeper, his panting and low grumbling moans making you fucking wild as you tried your best to take all of him and suck him, tears from how many times you gagged and choked trickling down your cheeks and you not giving a single fuck and pushing through, noticing that kento’s increased fidgeting and gasping was a signal that he was probably close.

and when you felt him loosen his grip on your hair, gently trying to pry you off so that he could cum somewhere else and not in your throat like the little gentlemen that he was, you slipped your mouth down again and held yourself firm, lips pumping up and down as you jerked him alongside, kento running a hand down the side of his cheek with eyes screwed tightly shut.

“darling i feel—” he quickly sat up, his expensive watch glistening against the moonlight as his hand fell over his heart. “i feel my release let me—”

he pushed at your shoulders gently and you refused, continuing to suck him off and drive him to the edge until a low gutting groan left his lips, you squeaking as he suddenly went feral and pushed the back of your head down and filled your throat up with his cum, sputtering and swallowing down as much as you could while he held you there.

“christ i’m sorry—” he let you go and you came off of him, gasping for air and with a mix of cum and drool seeping down your chin as you fell back on your ass, your chest moving erratically as you tried to catch your breath.

kento immediately stuffed his dick back in his pants and zipped it up, standing and placing his hands on your waist as he easily picked you up off the floor and sat you down next to him on the bed, concerned tumblings over your well being falling from his mouth as he moved your disheveled hair away from your face.

“honey i can’t tell you how sorry i am…” he dug into his blazer for his handkerchief, your tongue lapping up the excess drool and cum from your chin as his cheeks went red over you doing that, quickly stepping in and wiping off the rest for you.

“sorry for what ken?” you hummed, your voice a little hoarse and making kento feel guiltier as he sighed, placing the handkerchief down on your nightstand. 

“for abusing your throat y/n…” he spoke gently, ushering you to bed again as he pulled back the covers. “i wasn’t letting you breathe—”

“but i liked it.” you countered softly, crawling to your pillow and planting a tender little kiss to his cheek on your way, settling under the covers. “i asked you to use me baby… and you did just that! good job!”

kento playfully rolled his eyes and brought your blankets up to your chest. 

“yes but i could’ve done it in a better way.”

“in a better way likeee…?” you grinned cheekily. “like sex? well then you should’ve just asked ken i can take off my—”

you sat up and began unbuttoning your top, kento’s hands shooting out and stopping you midway as he flusteredly buttoned it back up, you laughing.

“please sweetheart you need to rest… it’s nearly six in the morning.” 

you groaned and plopped back down on your pillow. “just tell the monroe’s i’m sick. i’d rather be getting dicked down by you than drinking tea with them—”

“alright okay okay—” he brought the covers back up over you with an amused shy smile. “we’ll talk more about it tomorrow. at the monroe’s.”

you huffed and turned your back to him, kento chuckling before leaning over and placing a delicate lingering kiss on your temple, a slow sleepy smile crossing your face as you relished in the fact that he actually loved you… your fear of him seeing you as nothing more than just a spoiled brat quickly dissipating from the second he uttered his bashful but yet authentic confession to you.

you had been living in absolute worry and defiance and frustrating yourself when that wasn’t necessary at all— kento was just a gentlemen, a man, and his apprehensions for indulging in something more between the two of you were very real and valid and you understood… but you also didn’t care, your stubborn unruly (and spoiled…) personality and mind wanting nothing more than just kento.

and as long as you had him by your side, you didn’t care about anything else.

even when you had only gotten a total of a solid two hours of sleep before you had to wake up for brunch with the monroe’s, you didn’t care about that either, because kento was the one to wake you up with a soft hand down your back and gentle murmurs that slowly eased you awake, him delivering you a warm cup of hot chocolate for the morning because he knew you weren’t the biggest fan of coffee, and the brunch itself not seeming so bad too since you knew he would be there with you through the entire thing.

your newest biggest fear now though… was what your father would say once you told him. 

“are these alright for your hair miss y/n?”

you stopped applying your eyeshadow for a moment and turned your body from your bench seat, a tray of cute shiny pearled up bobby pins that you had requested a week prior sitting neat and ready for you, you looking up and smiling sweetly at your housekeeping staff.

“oh yes! these are beautiful thank you!”

she nodded. “do you need help putting these in? or are you okay?”

“i’m okay! if anything i’ll just ask kento hehe.”

she laughed softly, nodding again before placing the little tray down next to you on your vanity desk and turning to leave, passing by none other than kento on her way as he peaked through your door, giving your housekeeping staff a polite smile and allowing her to pass through first, making his way inside your bedroom once she left.

a cup of misty tea was carefully placed next to you on your desk, and you moved your eyeshadow brush away from your face again to see kento looking down at you with a kind grin, you instantly brightening up and scooching down on your seat to give him a little room to sit with you.

“you didn’t have to bring me this ken you gave me hot chocolate this morning!”

your voice was still a bit hoarse, and that’s precisely why he brought you hot tea to begin with, sighing softly through his nose as he sat down on the other side of your bench next to you.

“it’s for your throat honey.” you continued to buff out your eyeshadow, putting your brush away upon finishing and reaching up to fiddle with your bun, taking a few strands out for a more candid look. “how do you feel?”

“horny.”

kento went into a coughing fit and you laughed, his reactions to your ludicrousy always being a favorite of yours as you pecked his cheek in apology.

“sorry sorry—” you wiped the gloss you got on him off of his chiseled cheek, picking up your little tea cup after and taking a sip. “i mean it’s true i want your dick inside of me but—”

“darling.”

“okay!” you set your tea cup down, grumpily took some of your pearl bobby pins from the tray and started sticking them in your hair. “just say you don’t want to have sex with me it’s fine—”

“that is not what i’m saying whatsoever—”

“you refused to have sex with me last night and you’re doing it again right now mph!—”

he clasped a big hand over your mouth and pulled your head in, bringing his lips to your ear.

“there is nothing more i want than to be inside of you and split your warm little cunt open.”

your eyes blew out in shock.

“so enough or you won’t get anything.”

he turned your head to make you look at him directly.

“understood?”

you quickly nodded and he lowered his hand, grabbing one of yours and kissing the back of it before standing and walking to the door.

“your father wants you in the car with me in twenty minutes sweetheart. i’ll wait for you there.”

you watched him click the door shut behind him and you spun your head back around to face the mirror, shakily moving some strands away and quickly fanning yourself in attempts at calming the fuck down, completely thrown off course on what you were supposed to do next in your routine as you couldn’t even remember what you had just done.

because kento had a secret feral mouth that you had no idea of until now…

and you wanted to hear it again.

eventually you gathered yourself up and finished putting the rest of your bobby pin pearls in your hair, shuffling around in your room looking for your chiffon scarf and breathing out a sigh of relief once you caught sight of its pastel yellow fabric, it matching your summery dress and peeking from your bed as you snatched it and looped it around your upper arms, the fabric falling gracefully in a low curve behind you as you grabbed your clutch and made your way out the door.

you didn’t know what energy to exactly expect from the car ride as you trotted down your staircase and out to his car, but you were nonetheless still surprised to see that kento carried on like he didn’t just mutter in your ear that he wanted to rearrange your guts and for you to behave, you blinking at him and perplexed when he just went on about what things to pay attention to that the girls say because he knew your father would ask you about that certain topic later, not wanting you to get in trouble and an earful if you weren’t able to answer his questions about it.

and you were still perplexed upon arriving at the monroe’s estate— their place of living the only thing you really liked about the yearly brunches, as they lived in what looked like a fucking english regency palace instead of the plain modernized mansions you were accustomed to (including yours…), and you couldn’t help but feel a little jealous each year of the wonderful labyrinth the monroe’s had, an endless place of history and poise that your own home very much lacked.

but as beautiful as their estate was, it still didn’t make up for the absolute bitches that lived in it.

“ken if you turn this car around right now i will do absolutely anything you say and not go to any parties for two months instead of just one—”

he chuckled loudly and shook his head, rounding their grand water fountain that sat extravagantly in the center of their lawn outside, other sleek cars already parked in the front. 

“it’s just for a couple of hours honey.” he parked the car and turned off the ignition, unbuckling his seatbelt. “just indulge in their conversations for a while… and listen please. your father will ask about it later.”

kento shut the door as you unbuckled your seatbelt, him opening yours on the other side while offering a hand out for you to take, you gratefully doing so with a stoic dead look on your face as you kept your eyes locked to the grabble below.

“they don’t even like me.” you muttered, flashing a polite smile to the housekeeping staff that was waiting up ahead, walking up the steps. “the monroe’s and their girl friends don’t even like each other they’re all just a bunch of fake—”

“y/n!”

both of your heads shot up just as you entered the estate, the eldest of the monroe sisters trodding up to you with a smile.

“it’s good to see you!” her eyes shifted to kento. “and with nanami. of course.”

bitch.

“mhm! yup!” you exchanged polite hugs and stepped back. “are the rest of the girls here?”

“yes they just got here actually! they’re all out in the garden with my sisters i was just heading there now!”

“great! i’ll see myself then, you go on ahead.” you tightly smiled, and she shrugged, bidding you a ‘see you later’ before disappearing off into the depths of her home, you slowly turning around with a stressed out twitch in your eye but faltering when kento wasn’t behind you like you thought he was.

you spun around as your tried to look for him, gaze scanning the area to find him and stopping once you did, your brows furrowing in confusion upon seeing him at the other side of the corridor staring at something.

you slowly began walking down, eyes locked on what he was looking at and it making you stop in your tracks next to him once you got close enough to see.

the wall in front of you was littered with wedding photos of the monroe sisters parents and the generations before— the ceremony, cake cutting, pictures of their first dance, and singular portraits of various brides and grooms on their wedding days scattered about with smiles on their faces, all things kento was just staring at without any indication in his expression that could let you know as to what was going on in his head.

“ken?” you asked softly, and he looked to you.

“oh i’m sorry.” he glanced at his watch. “are you ready to head out into the garden?”

“y—yeah…” your eyes switched back to the wall ahead.

“you were looking at their wedding photos?” you smiled. “they’re cute huh? i look at them too every time we come.”

he nodded, placing a hand on your lower back to lead you away from the wall and towards the garden again. 

“i was only curious.” he spoke. “there’s an awful large amount of them.”

you snorted in agreement and continued walking, feeling like there was something he was thinking about and not telling you— you looking to the garden entrance ahead then deciding to take a peek at kento again through the corner of your eye, you suddenly finding him looking over his shoulder at the portraits still.

and your eyes softened.

you slowed down and reached up, gently turning his head from the portraits to you.

“what’s wrong ken?” you looked over at the wall and back to him. “why do you keep looking at the pictures?”

“oh— i didn’t realize.” he readjusted his yellow lensed sunglasses and continued ushering you on with a hand on your back. 

you frowned.

“ken you wouldn’t look at something for that long without any reasoning behind it…”

“it’s truly nothing.” he responded simply, the both of you entering the garden now and drawing nearer to the long table set up amidst a bed of roses and daisies, the rest of the girls beginning to take their seats. “enjoy your brunch darling.”

“no! but—”

“it’s alright go say hello—”

“i’d rather actually rot—”

“hello y/n!”

you stopped fidgeting and dropped your arms, another tight smile on your face as you greeted the youngest monroe sister from the table, deciding to ignore kento’s chuckling from behind you and walk up, taking a seat with the rest of them and looking over the extravagantly set up table for anything to stuff your face with— it filled with little pastries and appetizers from top to bottom, a pretty strawberry shortcake cake in the middle surrounded by a tier of cupcakes and scones, little baked sandwich platters, and a porcelain tea cup set at each of your designated seats to enjoy.

you lightened up a little over all of the cute details and selections, forgetting that the monroe’s always knew how to put on a lovely brunch for all of you every year as you extended an arm, grabbing the nearest tea pot and carefully pouring the steaming liquid in your cup.

“girls! just the other day my father bought me another set of those diamond jewels from the franziska’s!”

that’s why you’d always forget.

the rest of them gushed and looked around the table to the eldest monroe, her neck clad in a pretty diamond necklace with matching earrings and rings.

“i know right? i had lost my previous set while swimming in the lake and my staff couldn’t find them.”

“oh that happened to me once.” one of their girlfriends piped up. “it was an exclusive emerald set from europe… only one in the entire world made!”

the rest of the girls gasped and murmured.

“i had my staff looking in the lake all day and night for three days until one of them finally found it!”

“oh thank god!” the middle monroe sister breathed out. “i would’ve absolutely hated to lose those! especially since they’re a one of a kind!”

“mhm yup! and you know what else actually? just the other day i found out francis— you know the girl from the faltis family?”

the girls faces turned knowing and they eagerly nodded.

“i found out she was asking up and down various jewelry shops and makers for my emerald set!”

they all gasped.

“you’re kidding!”

“no! the girl either wanted to copy me or make the same exact set to still copy me.”

“oh! that sleazy—”

you completely tuned them out beyond this point, your brain literally pulsing with the stupidest shit you had ever come across to hearing in your life, choosing to sit there and enjoy the weather and pretty cherry blossoms around you as you ate a cranberry scone and thought about the things you wanted to do for the weekend.

it’s not like you were a total opposite from the rest of the girls.

you too liked jewels and pretty things, luxury branded vehicles and a little bit of gossip here and there.

but it was the way they talked about it and handled each thing was what aggravated you the most.

they were ungrateful, greedy, and bitchy— no other girl that was a loose connection from them allowed to have the same jewelry set as theirs, the same set of friends as theirs, or the same set of dresses for your monthly bashes and dinner parties as theirs, turning utterly nasty if they so even got a glance of someone else having the same thing as them.

all things that were pointless and unrighteous to be upset about.

and just for the sake of keeping your father from putting your head on a stick, you remained civil with them and refrained from wearing anything similar to theirs at an event if you knew they would be in attendance.

but it was easy, for your taste was completely different than the lot of them, and you preferred pearls anyway over any kind of diamond or emerald or sapphire jewel piece.

“oh! and you know what i heard?” another girl friend spoke up. “akio from the corvus family has a little crush on miss y/n over there!”

kento’s ears perked up.

you jumped upon hearing your name, the rest of the girls gushing and ‘ooing’ as they turned their attention to you.

“i’m sorry what? who?”

“akio!” she laughed. “that man is obsessed with you! he asks for you at every single gathering.”

akio? 

akio… akio…

“the one that looks like a toad?”

the girls laughed at your comment, covering their mouths or learning forward as you just blinked at them, unaware of how what you said was so funny.

“oh you’re too much!” the youngest monroe waved you off. “yes him! any time he sees any of us at an event he always asks if you’re there with us.”

“you know what yes!” the eldest exclaimed. “i heard he wanted to strike up a proposal with your father! i think he already did!”

you dropped the cupcake you were holding.

and kento froze.

“a— a— propo—”

“oh my god congratulations y/n!”

“lucky you!”

“oh a bride already!—”

you turned in your seat to look at kento, but he was looking the other way, an unreadable expression on his face.

you turned back to the girls.

“is this a rumor or it’s actually happening?” you asked. “i don’t want to get married to him!”

they laughed again.

“why not?! yes he’s ugly but that man is loaded. has money to last him and you entirely without having to work a day in your lives!”

your blood ran cold, because anything you knew that was ordered by your father, was bible.

a housekeeping kitchen staff came around then and refilled a few platters of pastries and appetizers.

“ahh you’re so fortunate y/n!” one of the girl friends gushed. “i’d love to be wed to a man with money like akio… i could care less what he looks like!”

“you can have him.” you quickly sputtered, and they laughed again. “no seriously i don’t want him take him please—”

“oh don’t be silly!” the youngest monroe sister waved you off. “akio wants you. he’s kind of creepy about it too.”

“why me?!” you whined. “i’ve only spoken to him a handful of times—”

“why don’t you ask him at the dinner party you’re hosting next week? i’m pretty sure he’s going!” another girl friend spoke up. “i have a feeling he’s gonna propose to you there.”

you propped your elbow up on the table and placed a hand on your forehead in misery, feeling like you were living in a total nightmare.

“i’d honestly rather go broke.”

they all burst out laughing again.

what the hell was so funny?

“you’re too much!” the middle monroe sister gasped. “just give him a chance! once you see all the things he can buy for you, you’ll change your mind. plus… i think it’d be nice to have a break from mr. nanami don’t you think?”

you picked your head up.

“…kento?”

“uh huh!” the eldest continued. “god that must be exhausting having him around watching over you like that… it’s like he’s babysitting you. must be tiresome for him too.”

babysitting?

“with you and akio’s marriage i’m sure he’ll dismiss nanami’s services, and you can go your separate ways finally!”

“but—”

“and mr. nanami sure is handsome too.” another girl piped up with a hushed voice. “he’ll find a rich girl to settle down with in no time—”

“oh that’d be so great!—”

you abruptly stood, the silverware and tea cups clattering as you did so, the rest of them falling silent.

“sorry. excuse me.” you mumbled, eyes casted downward as you moved around your chair and off to the side, the girls shrugging and uncaring as they proceeded to babble on about other nonsense as you walked ahead, further and further away from the table and the chattering and through the garden, passing by several other flower beds of orchards and sunflowers until you reached the little duck pond by the end of the garden.

you stopped and sighed, bitterly crossing your arms and damning your father for ever discussing something as serious as marriage without your consent, marrying you off basically, or even lacking giving you a god damn warning before you came to brunch today— you and your father both knowing how much of a blabber mouth all of the girls were and how much they fed off of gossip like that.

you felt like a fucking idiot.

and who the hell was akio exactly? you knew of him and kind of had an idea of what he looked like, but you never really paid attention whenever he came up to talk to you at events or parties, his face almost entirely blurry in your mind besides the obvious features he had that did in fact make him look like a damn toad.

and another thing that was obvious too, was how creepy he was.

the only thing the monroe’s shit talking got right.

“honey?”

you didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“hi ken.”

the rustling of grass filled the otherwise peaceful ambience as he stepped beside you, the both of you looking out ahead over the sparkling duck pond.

“are you alright?”

you nodded.

“i know you’re not alright i can see it.” he readjusted his lenses. “i’m assuming it has to do with the information the monroe’s told you?”

“i’m being married off ken.” you mumbled, eyes switching to him. “how are you so calm about this?”

“oh i’m not.” he spoke simply. “i’m quite agitated actually.”

you faltered, eyes falling down.

“i’ve always respected your father ever since we were young. and every choice he made with you i always agreed that it was what was best for you.”

you listened.

“but i can’t—” he paused. “… i can’t see how this is best for you. and i don’t know if it’s because i love you and i’m being selfish or if it actually is what’s best for you… so my thinking is— adhered.”

“how can marrying me off like the fucking renaissance period be what’s best for me?” you muttered, and he chuckled softly.

“and i love you, kento.” you continued. “my thinking’s also messed up.”

he placed a hand on your lower back and gently nudged you to him, you complying and falling into his side, wrapping your arms around him.

“it’s your choice y/n.” he spoke softly. “i know akio isn’t… the greatest. but he’s qualified to be your husband.”

your eyes widened.

“what are you saying? what about— what about you?”

he looked down, a sad smile on his face.

“i’ll stay for as long as you need me sweetheart.”

the ducks fluttering wings from the pond ahead filled the silence, tranquil splashes of water that followed after their every move with little quacks and hoots.

“so you’re just gonna give me away.” you mumbled. “just like that. easy peasy. who cares—”

“no—”

“i want you to be my husband ken.”

he gave you a deadpanned look.

“darling don’t joke about things like that—”

“oh i’m not joking.” you separated from him, frustration swirling in your chest. “why is it always considered a joke to you when i talk about being with you?”

he paused, sighing a little through his nose.

“i feel incredibly lucky that a woman like you could envision a life with me.” he spoke. “but i’m also aware that i’m very… boring. i’d feel it wrong to tie you down to a life without excitement like the one you live now.”

kento slipped an arm around your waist and brought you back in again.

“akio seems to be more like you… maybe you could learn to get along.”

your lip began to wobble, and kento’s eyes softened. 

“sweethea—”

“i don’t care about any of that stuff.” you sniffled, wiping your cheeks. “you of all people should know this—”

“don’t cry please you’ll ruin your hard work—”

kento dug into his blazer and pulled out a little handkerchief, carefully patting down your face.

“yes i like to go out a lot but so what? it’s not something that’s a part of me it’s just something i like to do.”

you took the handkerchief from him and pressed it into the corner of your eye. 

“you’re a part of me ken… and i want a life with you, i’ve known since i was freaking sixteen. i don’t need it spelled out for me.”

kento swallowed.

he’d always admired how stubborn you were, because to him it meant a strong mind and an ambitious drive in contrast to the negative connotation that that word seemed to have— things that were absolutely who you were and why he fell in love with you in the first place, and why you were such a gem.

but he worried still that you’d regret it and change your mind.

that he wouldn’t be able to live up to your lifestyle and your wants and needs, and that you’d get bored of him… leaving in the end.

kento doesn’t think he could bare the thought of you leaving him, much like how he couldn’t bare the thought of you marrying akio either.

but if it meant what was best for you, then so be it… except it wasn’t. 

he was sure of it.

“you’re a part of me as well.” he murmured. “i’m sure you know that—”

“i don’t.” you grumbled, and he chuckled. “you’re always switching up on me with your rejections and then your confessions i’m confused—”

kento silenced you with a kiss to your lips, his big hands on either sides of your face as your eyes fluttered closed and you leaned into his built frame, your arms snaking around his neck and his bringing you closer by the waist as you tenderly deepened the kiss— soft lips smacking and moving with such love that it almost made you cry again.

“i’m sorry.” he pulled back, whispering against your lips. “it’s completely unfair to you—”

“s’okay ken.” you whispered back, the cutest smile he had even seen in his life on your face. “i’ll forgive you if you keep kissing me.”

“deal.”

your lips mushed up against each others once more, kento breathing you in and relishing in the feeling of your body pressed up against his, his hands slowly roaming around from your waist to your sides— still trying to be respectful of his hand placement until you took one of them and lowered it to your ass cheek with a squeeze, him laughing against your lips.

you were so silly.

silly and bright and spontaneous and beautiful, today another reminder from countless others with your frilly pastel yellow sundress and the pearls in your hair, your entity different from the rest of the women he’d come to know and thankful that he was lucky enough to have grown with you.

to have protected you. 

and the both of you were relieved to see that the monroe sisters and their girl friends didn’t seem to care where you two had ventured off to, for you didn’t know how long you were gone either as you approached the table again— the dessert piles, scones, and strawberry shortcake cake nearly nonexistent, you taking a seat again and secretly reapplying your lipgloss since kento had basically sucked it off of your face, your cheeks pinky and the butterflies in your stomach running rampant.

you were glad then that the monroe’s and their minions were such dim witted bitches too, because their level of self-absorption inhibited them from knowing or picking up on any clues of what could have transpired between you and kento in the garden, them immediately going to you upon arrival and chatting up a storm about mindless things again like you had never left the table to begin with.

but all you could think about was what you were going to tell you father about akio.

and you didn’t want to think about it honestly… because you knew there was a strong chance of you getting literally violent and landing yourself in deeper shit with him than ever before.

that didn’t matter either though if it meant being with kento… and for real this time. the thought of simply just him giving you the push that you needed to trudge up your grand staircase once you got home from brunch, kento trailing behind you and pleading with you to take a little breather before going in to speak with your father, but you absolutely done over the situation seeing as he only ever saw you as a thing and not his daughter if he was willing to marry you off like that.

“my love please relax—”

you stopped in front of your fathers study and knocked curtly, ignoring kento’s words.

“come in.”

you pushed down the handle and walked through, kento following close behind you and clicking the door closed as you stepped to the front of your fathers desk, your arms crossed.

“ah y/n. nanami.” he looked up from his documents, eyes switching between the two of you. “how was brunch with the monroe’s?”

“good.” you replied.

“was the food selection still as grandiose as always?” he looked back down at his paperwork.

“mhm.” you crossed your arms. “they had strawberry shortcake cake this year.”

he hummed. “the monroe’s always know how to put on a good event don’t they? for their daughters? and how are they by the w—”

“they’re fine.” you cut him off sharply. “but you know what isn’t fine?”

he eyed you.

“what?”

“that you’re marrying me off to akio—”

he sighed loudly and placed his documents flat on his desk, leaning forward and wringing his hands together to rest on the surface.

“he’s a good prospect.” he began. “he came up to me with some very impressive ideas about the future of my business, and also how much he was interested in you.”

you scoffed. “so this is what the arrangement is about? your business?”

“i thought you would be happy about this?” he extended his hands out lazily. “akio comes from a wealthy background. you’ll be taken care of in whatever you need and he’s qualified to take over my business once the time comes—”

hurt flashed across your face.

“why would you consider akio taking over your business and not your daughter?”

he laughed humorously, shuffling some papers about mindlessly on his desk.

“y/n you can’t possibly think that i’d consider you to take leadership over my business.”

“and why the hell not?”

his eyes narrowed.

“because you’re incompetent.” he spoke harshly. “you don’t know the meaning of responsibility, you’re stubborn, you’re spoiled, and all that you concern yourself with is parties and outings. you think i would allow you anywhere near my business?”

with each insult and jab that was thrown in your face, the blurrier and blurrier your vision got, you desperately trying to blink your tears back and put on a brave front, but finding it difficult when it was your own father that was dumbing you down to nothing.

“you’re not ready for anything like this and i don’t think you will ever be.” he stood up from his chair. “i’m thinking of what’s good for you and you’re being ungrateful yet again with your complaints—”

“sir with all due respect please try to see where she’s coming from.” kento interjected. “i’m sure she has the future of your business in her best interests, but marrying her off to someone she doesn’t know very well is upsetting her—”

“she’s never had any interest in the state of my business son you and i both know that—”

“sir she’s an extremely capable woman and independent i assure you her contribution to the business would serve prosperity—”

your father scoffed. “there is no prosperity with her. all she brings is disorder and foolery and i appreciate you trying to vouch for her but—”

“please if you’d just give her a chance—”

“i’d give you more of a chance over her—”

“then give the company to kento!” you yelled, the both of them snapping their heads to you and kento’s eyes widening. “i could care less what you think of me everything you told me isn’t new fucking information—”

“young lady language—”

“—i’m not here to try and convince you to give me the business that’s not what i’m here for.” you spat. “but don’t you dare stand there and say that i’ve never cared about the state of it when that’s bullshit.”

kento placed a hand on your shoulder and you shook it off.

“give the company to kento.” you repeated firmly. “if you give it to akio he’ll run your business to the ground and you know that.”

“and how would you know he isn’t qualified—”

“are you kidding?” you shook your head incredulously. “akio is a little dumb boy who goes to his daddy for help any chance he gets because he can’t do anything for himself. he puts on a show about how he’s this mature experienced man when he’s nothing but a joke.”

“i thought you said you barely knew him?” your father asked. “where is this information coming from?”

“the monroe sisters.” you spat. “they’re blabbermouths and their opinions are garbage, but their gossip is always truthful.”

it’s how you found out about the arranged proposal after all.

“i’m stubborn, i’m spoiled, i’m too stupid to handle anything for myself i’m helpless— fine. whatever you say but him?—”

you pointed to kento.

“he’s the most qualified for this position and you and i both know that.”

“y/n no—” kento tried to interject again, but you cut him off.

“he’s seen you handle the business since he was fourteen and knows it inside and out and just as much as you do. any task you’ve ever given him he’s gotten it done and more and i assure you that the business will flourish if you give it to him.”

you stepped forward, your father standing there with a neutral expression.

“believe it or not i care about what you worked so hard for to create, and i care about you, and regardless of what you think of me and the fact that you’ve shown me the complete opposite, it’d kill me to see akio ruin all of it.”

you wiped your cheeks and continued as you turned around, making your way to the other side of your father’s study. 

“kento’s a good man. everything will be in good hands with him.”

you threw open the door and stomped out.

“and i’m not marrying akio!—”

“y/n return at once—”

“sir i advise you to—”

your father and kento’s words drowned out the further down the hallway you got, tears spilling from your eyes now that you were away from it all as your heels hastily clicked against the shiny marble flooring, quiet sobs racking through your body.

you spouting repeatedly how you didn’t care what your father thought about you was a complete lie.

because you very much did care… you always have. and no matter how hard you tried to prove to him that you were capable of more than just parties and brunches and pearls and pretty dresses and shoes and cars, it was never enough. 

you were never enough.

“y/n—”

kento distantly burst out from your father’s study and quickly strode up to you, concern etched all over his face as you shook off your chiffon scarf and chucked it somewhere behind you in frustration. 

“my darling—” kento picked up the long piece of fabric and continued on after you. “my darling i’m so sorry—”

“i need to be alone ken.” you sobbed. “i’m sorry too i just need to be alone—”

“i refuse to leave—”

you slammed your bedroom door shut and kento picked up the pace, his eyes big in alarm at the sound of tumbling and thudding in your room as he stopped in front of your door, swinging it open to reveal you on the other side throwing your heels across the room along with several other pairs and things, your pretty pearls and jewels flying as he stood there in shock.

kento caught sight of you picking up your favorite porcelain flower vase amidst your rage to throw, him quickly stepping in and snatching it from you and fighting your thrashing as he held you to himself.

“kento stop it!—”

he placed the vase safely on your vanity desk and spun you around, his arms grabbing your shoulders tightly as he bent down to your level.

“sweetheart breathe please—” 

he hurriedly snagged off his cream colored blazer and tossed it off to the side, leaving him in his blue button up and suspenders as he rolled up his sleeves and placed his hands back on your shoulders.

“hey— it’s alright.” his hazel eyes frantically darted over every corner of your face, him snatching off his lenses now and tossing them. “it’s alright breathe for me y/n please—”

you could only sob, your mascara stained cheeks and heartbroken expression crumbling and ripping kento to pieces as he looked at you, his hands coming up to cup and caress your wet face.

“everything he said was the farthest thing from the truth don’t let it upset you like this—”

“no but he’s right he’s right!” you sobbed. “i’m useless i can’t do shit for myself and i’d probably be off somewhere dead in a ditch if it wasn’t for you—”

“do not say things like that—”

“kento you can’t be with me.”

he faltered. “i’m sorry?”

“you can’t be with me it’s embarrassing to be with me you’re better off with someone who’s capable and responsible like you i just bring you down—”

“stop that i’m serious i won’t ask again—”

“no kento you’re not listening!” you cried, your shoulders violently shaking. “you’re a good man. you’re such a good man and you’re way too good for me and i don’t deserve to be with you you can’t keep babysitting me like this—”

“how could you ever possibly say these things about yourself?” he shook his head. “how could you ever say that you’re too good for me when it’s the other way around?”

your eyes narrowed.

“no it’s not don’t give me that—”

“your father is full of shit.”

your mouth snapped shut.

kento never badmouthed your father no matter what it was, and he also never cussed so forceful and purposeful no matter the situation.

“he’s always been too hard on you and too stoic for reasons that i will never understand nor ever agree with.”

he leaned closer.

“do not upset yourself over the things he said any longer and do not worry about your marriage arrangement with akio.”

“ken—”

“do not think about the pearls you just threw over your balcony do not worry about anything— i will take care of it.”

“i—”

“i love you and i will take care of it.”

you continued to cry, letting your body slump wholly against his as he caught you and held you tight.

“please.. i beg you darling to believe me when i say that you are the most capable woman i know.” he spoke against your ear, his chest aching over your soft sobbing. “you’re witty and you’re intelligent and you’ve come so far simply because of who you are and the way you carry yourself. it’s a shame your father can’t see that.”

“no one can see that—”

“i can see it. everybody else can see it too and i’ve been around you all my life to testify for it.” 

you sniffled, burying your face in his neck.

“believe me my love…” he ran a soothing hand down your back. “you’re everything. you’re an asset. don’t let your father’s words take that away.”

you sniffled a little, standing there silent as your hiccups and sobs settled down gradually, your heart beating prominently against your ribs at kento’s sweet murmurings and affection, because though your fathers actions and decisions were bible, so were kento’s words.

he was a good man.

“thank you.” you mumbled, and he nodded, gently guiding you to your bed to sit.

“i’ll take care of you sweetheart.” he pulled back and placed a soft kiss to your lips. “i promise you.”

you smiled a little, a small warm gleam in your eyes as you sniffed and nodded.

“okay ken.”

words didn’t need to be said between the two of you to know the unconditional love you both had for each other, one that was born and bred and made a fact upon your lives crossing paths through fated connections, and strengthened from the day kento decided to be your bodyguard and protect you with everything that he had.

and words didn’t need to be said between the two of you as you both fell in each other’s soft embraces either, kissing with lingering hands and bated breaths as kento delicately laid you back on your bed after a moment of soft chattering, him making sure you were okay, and scattering hungry open mouthed kisses on your jaw and neck and your body language alone with your needy whines enough of an indicator to him that you needed all of him, just as much as he needed all of you, his calloused hands undressing you and worshipping your bare body and everything that you were.

skin to skin contact that was hot to the touch, your arms that barely reached around his broad built shoulders trembling as kento made love to you that night, foreheads resting against each others as he pumped slowly and intimately in and out from inside you, your gasps catching themselves in your throat and him moaning with every thrust and snap of his hips that sent you down a ditzy fucked out road that you never wanted to back track from.

and kento treated you like a delicate little pearl all while at the same time desperately marking and bruising you up with hickeys and bites, afraid from the start that he would accidentally cross the line and hurt you due to his size, but you reassuring him with your perfect smile and pretty face while whispering sweet nothings in his ear as he filled you full, him swallowing you whole and man handling you so much to the point where he had to have you biting down on his tie to keep you quiet while he fucked you senseless.

everything about it was meaningful and cherished and nothing like you’d ever experienced before in your life— a night you wanted to remember for as long as you lived and prayed that you got to repeat over and over again… with him.

with kento and kento only.

he was the only man capable of simmering down your tears and making you feel so much better about a situation as horrid as the one that transpired, and he was the only man that was capable of getting you to listen when you didn’t want to, an incredible talent in itself that spoke volumes in how much of a gentle and kind and reliable person he was… and you only hoped that you provided him with things of the same caliber.

and the thought of that only amplified upon you waking up to find that kento wasn’t next to you in your bed the next morning… when you clearly remembered falling asleep in his big arms the night before.

you slowly sat up, one tired eye peeking over at the vacant spot next you and around the room, finding nothing and honestly feeling a little down about his disappearance as you groggily got out of bed.

maybe he went to eat breakfast? or get a cup of coffee?

you continued on anyways with your morning and freshened up for the day, your legs nearly giving out and sore in the shower due to the pounding he gave you— skin tender and purple under the running water and you loving every mark, shrugging and getting ready quicker than normal so you could finally see kento downstairs to share a little smooch or two with him.

you zoomed through styling your hair and doing your makeup before spritzing a bit of perfume, not bothering to locate your phone before you opened the door to your bedroom and stepped out, bidding your usual good mornings to your housekeeping staff as you skipped down the grand staircase and over to the kitchen, a place he was usually at if not already with you in your room.

but he wasn’t there.

and you frowned.

where was he?

you spent a total of thirty minutes looking for kento— practically turning your mansion upside down and even sticking your head in rooms you had never stepped foot in before, your mind fucking confused and worried that you couldn’t locate him anywhere and that your staff didn’t even know where he was when you asked, for him doing something like this was completely unheard of.

upon going back upstairs, you speedily walked past your fathers study and stopped.

could he be in there…?

but your father was for sure in there, and you couldn’t stand the thought of speaking or even looking at him at the moment without fury clouding your judgement again.

but kento could be in there…

you took a deep breath and walked back to your fathers door, hesitantly knocking gently.

“come in.”

you pushed the door open and stepped in, closing it behind you before turning around and shoulders slumping when you didn’t spot him in here either.

dammit.

“good morning.” your father spoke. “what can i do for you? it’s rather early for you to be stopping by.”

“oh yeah sorry i just—” you played with the ends of your hair. “i was just looking for kento… i thought he might’ve been in here.”

he shook his head.

“he’s not. he left.”

you froze.

“he— what?”

“he left.” you father repeated. “nanami stepped down from the position of being your bodyguard earlier today. he left a couple of hours ago.”

what the fuck?

“i don’t—” you tightly gripped the table next to you, balancing yourself. “i don’t understand—”

“you’ll be assigned a new bodyguard within the next coming week—”

“did he say why?” you breathed out. “did he say anything at all?”

your fathers eyes scanned you.

“amongst various other things, he said he simply couldn’t fulfill that position anymore.”

“did you fire him?!”

he scoffed. “don’t be ridiculous y/n i would never do something like that to nanami. i tried to get him to reconsider.”

holy fucking shit.

kento quit? kento left? kento left you?

it didn’t make any sense. nothing about it made sense to you this— this wasn’t like him at all—

“like i said you’ll be assigned a new bodyguard soon i just need to finalize nanami’s paperwork—”

you swung open the door and ran out, your eyes already filling with tears as you pushed through your housekeeping staff and ignored their beckoning and calls, you bursting through your room and throwing everything around to try and find your phone through your heaving and panic.

why did he leave you? was it something you did?

did he finally realize you were nothing but a useless spoiled girl?

you hurriedly wiped your eyes and kept looking, transitioning from your bed over to your vanity desk and knocking over everything to try and find your stupid phone to call him, some of your expensive bottle of perfumes clattering and spilling and you not giving a rats ass about it as your tears increased in intensity, about to run out of your room and get in your car to literally drive around your fucking city to look for him until you snapped your head up.

a small yellow sticky note sat stuck to your mirror. 

you stopped, dropping the items you were holding and stepping closer— pulling the note from its position and bringing it in.

i’ll be in the garden waiting for you when you wake up.

kento.

you hiccuped and wiped your eyes again, kicking the clothes you had thrown about in search for your phone (that you still couldn’t find) as you hurriedly left your room and trudged down the hall, confusion and hurt suffocating your head over the information you had just learned about him and his leave, you reaching the bottom of your staircase and rounding through various hallways and lounge areas to get to the entry way of your little garden, one that wasn’t exaggeratingly massive like the monroe’s, but one that was a great size and that you loved with everything in you— various flowers and herbs planted by yours truly as you periodically took care of them from time to time.

and sure enough, as promised, kento was standing at the end of your garden, his back turned to you as he overlooked the acres of land your father owned that stretched beyond the premises of your rosey labyrinth, him dressed in a casual yet dressy tight long sleeve sweater and dress pants— a sight you weren’t used to seeing at all as you always saw him in a full blown suit everyday without fail.

kento heard the soft rustling of grass and he slightly turned, a soft smile stretching across his chiseled face until he caught sight of your tear stained cheeks and pissed off expression, his face dropping and brows pinching.

“honey what’s wrong?” he walked over to you and you glared. “why are you looking at me like that?”

“you quit.” you muttered, already annoyingly feeling your waterworks trigger again. “my father said you gave up your bodyguard position.”

“oh.” his shoulders relaxed, and his nonchalance only further pissed you off. “i did my love yes—”

“why.” you pushed. “why are you leaving i don’t— i don’t get it did i do something wrong? i—”

“what?” he shook his head and took your hands in his. “no dear god no you didn’t do anything.”

“then why are you leaving?” you sniffed, and kento wiped a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb.

“i told your father i love you.”

you stiffened.

“he wasn’t very pleased.” he continued. “i figured he wouldn’t be… but he didn’t make me step down from my position darling, i chose to do that.”

you blinked confusedly.

“but why?”

“i don’t want to be paid for something that i was born to do as your man.” he smiled warmly. “it didn’t feel right to me… and i don’t want to be labeled as that anymore either.”

he wiped away your remaining tears.

“i want to only be known as yours now. not your bodyguard or anything else in between.”

you were left speechless, unmoving and rigid at everything he was saying.

“however… your father did make me choose between you and the business.”

your brows furrowed, taken aback.

“the— the business?—”

kento nodded, a content smile still on his face.

“he was impressed by what you said yesterday sweetheart.” 

you scoffed. “what that his words were bullshit and that he doesn’t care about me—”

he laughed, little crinkles in the corners of his eyes as he shook his head.

“he was satisfied to see that you weren’t angry about not getting the company for yourself, but because he was going to give it away to someone who wasn’t qualified to maintain it.” 

you pursed your lips.

“he was offering it to me in exchange for letting you go. i refused immediately.”

your eyes shot up.

“kento no i— fuck—” you looked around exasperatedly. “this is your dream! this is everything you’ve ever wanted i feel horrible for taking that away i don’t—”

“sweetheart don’t be stupid.” he chuckled. “i thought i made it clear enough that you’re everything i’ve ever wanted… not some business. i don’t need any of that. just you.”

your eyes softened.

“are you sad at all?”

he shook his head and gently kissed your forehead.

“i’m the happiest i’ve ever been y/n.”

and that was the truest of truths.

kento was truly and incandescently happy, no longer tied down and restrained by his inner monologues of former idiotic confusion, or jugglings of what was best for you and whether you should be with him or not no longer standing in the way either as he finally welcomed the fact that yes— a woman as gracious and lively and stunning as you could indeed love a simple man like him, an absolute privilege and honor to have someone as special as you want a life with him in it that he just couldn’t understand how his feelings were ever considered confusing to start with.

for him thinking of nothing but you and his occupation as your protector and your guide, a job that he saw himself doing beside you until his very dying day, was all simply a mask of him thinking out the rest of his life with you in the form of work.

and it was so clear that he loved you. so much.

how could he not? how could the way he stared at the monroe’s generational wedding portraits and photographs, swapping their faces out with his and yours, and his constant weighings of ‘if she was mine’ and ‘does she actually feel the same way’ from before not already give away enough that he loved you?

but it was even clearer now, with him giving up the opportunity to build and nourish a reputable business like he’d always aspired to do, turning it down without so much as a blink because he wanted you and you only, not feeling an ounce of regret in his body and knowing that he never will.

kento was looking forward to spending the rest of his days with the woman that he’d always envisioned it with— the forbidden heavenly fruit that he had deemed impossible to reach and wrong to even try, him unknowing of the fact that that same glistening fruit sat dangling and waiting as it would only ever let itself be harvested and picked by him… for kento was the one who planted and had been nurturing it for as long as it could remember.

planted it… nurtured it… kept it safe.

kept you safe.

and funnily enough, another individual was also looking forward to seeing your life with kento unfold… your father— curious to see how exactly two opposites became compatible, and when it was that the two of you fell in love as it managed to wholeheartedly slip past his radar completely when most things didn’t.

had he really been this absent in your life?

… though regardless if he was or wasn’t, it was too late to dwell on it now, seeing as you were a grown woman and capable and your father was grateful that you at least had a companion with you through the many days he wasn’t, and an honorable man such as kento— taking care of you and guiding you through every step of your life when he didn’t even need to be asked, his willingness to do it and overlooking your reckless habits reading numbers to your father.

and even more so now as he leaned against his studies stone balcony ledge from above, it overlooking the entirety of your garden plus the acres of land he owned during the annual dinner party he put on for the business, kento sitting peacefully on a lawn chair with you in his lap while drinking glasses of sparkling champagne, soft echoing laughs and giggles heard from below as you enjoyed each others company away from the bustling crowds and nosy relatives.

it was a pleasing sight, to say the least.

and it was exactly why your father was going to give his business to kento when the time came, because when given the choice between gluttony and love, kento chose love.

he chose you.

“i’m thinking of planting tiger lilies soon.” you hummed, your head resting on kento’s shoulder as he delicately ran a hand down your back, sipping his champagne. “it’s almost their season… right?”

“i believe so, yes.” he nodded. “i think that’s a great idea.”

“thanks!” you cheesed, running the tip of your index finger absentmindedly over the rim of your glass. “will you help me? i need your big manly arms to carry the soil out from the flower shop tomorrow hehe.”

he chuckled, tracing his fingers gingerly over your upper arm. “i’ll pick it up for you in the morning sweetheart. don’t concern yourself with it.”

you smiled to yourself, cheeks warm as you pressed a kiss to his cheek in gratitude.

“i am concerned about something else though…”

his brows pinched, lowering the glass from his lips and looking at you in concern.

“what is it?”

“when we’re gonna pick our wedding date—”

kento laughed boastfully and shook his head, setting down his champagne glass on the little table next to him and settling his hand over your thigh, the material of your classy black dress smooth under his touch.

“you asked me this just last night my love.”

“okay so?” you grinned. “you don’t want me to be your precious wife? the birth giver of your offspring?—”

“i never said that—”

“because i could y’know.” you caressed his jaw with your thumb. “i could be your wife and be the mother of your children… isn’t that what you want?”

with all of his heart.

“it’s what i want at least.” you pouted, and kento smiled handsomely, the vision of you soaked in the rays of the setting sun before him a lethal one as he felt his heart rattle against his chest.

“me promising to take care of you has marriage included above all else my love.” he spoke gently. “you will be my bride someday, i assure you.”

you stared at him warmly, your cheek falling to rest against his as you placed your hand on his chest and over his white crisp button up.

“i also assure you that you’ll continue to be happy and protected, alright?” he squeezed your thigh. “just because i’m not your bodyguard anymore doesn’t mean my duties are done with.”

you nodded against him, the slight prickling cold wind brushing against your skin as the stunning sun continued to set.

“you’re a good man, ken.” you murmured. “and i love you.”

and that was another truest of truths.

because as he reiterated that same three worded phrase back to you and held you closer to his built frame, grabbing his blazer from the arm rest and draping it over your goose bumped filled shoulders, and with a tender kiss to your lips?

it was obvious that kento nanami was born and raised to be just that.

a good man.

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[pucksandpower]

Shouldn’t Have Done That

Mafia boss!Max Verstappen x Leclerc!Reader

Summary: trying to get one of the most dangerous men in the world to put a hit out on the love of his own life probably isn’t the brightest idea (or in which, for someone with a PhD, your professor is shockingly stupid)

Warnings: 18+ content, sexual harassment, imbalanced power dynamics, graphic violence, and descriptions of bodily harm

The door to your apartment swings open, and the chatter from the hallway stops. Four of your classmates shuffle inside, their footsteps faltering as they take in the sight before them. They’re silent for a moment too long.

“Wait,” Katie says, her eyes wide as she looks up at the vaulted ceiling and back down to the gleaming hardwood floors. “Is this your place?”

You shrug, tossing your keys into the bowl by the door. “Yeah.”

“You live here?” Carla echoes, her voice tinged with disbelief.

“I mean,” you chuckle lightly, “obviously.”

The apartment, with its high ceilings and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Mediterranean, feels miles away from the cramped student housing they’re all used to. It's not just the space. The sleek furniture, the abstract art pieces on the walls, the elegant touches — none of it exactly screams student budget. They’re trying not to stare, but they’re doing a bad job of hiding it.

“I thought we were coming over to, like … study,” Peter finally says, breaking the silence, a nervous chuckle following.

You give him a playful nudge with your elbow. “We are.”

“But here?” Katie crosses her arms, glancing at you with a raised eyebrow. “Come on, what’s the deal? This place has to cost a fortune.”

There’s a beat, then a couple of them laugh, but it’s a little strained. They’re not joking. They’re genuinely trying to piece it together. You could brush it off, let them make their own assumptions, but something about their wide-eyed curiosity feels harmless.

“My brother,” you say, almost casually. “He’s … well, he’s doing okay. He helps me out.”

They’re all staring, but it’s Carla who finally speaks up. “What does your brother do?”

You hesitate for just a second before answering. “Honestly, I’m not entirely sure.”

Katie’s eyes narrow. “You’re not sure?”

“I mean, I know it’s something with negotiations. Like, high-level stuff. It’s complicated.” You wave it off like it’s no big deal, like it doesn’t really matter. Because it doesn’t, right? You’ve never been the type to get too involved in his work. You just trust that he knows what he’s doing.

Carla tilts her head, curious but not pushing further. Peter, on the other hand, leans against the kitchen island, his lips curving into a smirk. “Something with negotiations? So, what? Is he, like, a spy or something?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “No, nothing like that.”

“Are you sure?” Peter presses, his tone teasing but with just enough edge that he’s probably half-serious.

“Not everything is out of a Bond movie, Peter,” you say, rolling your eyes.

“But the view!” Katie says, pulling everyone’s attention back to the massive windows overlooking the water. “I can’t believe you get to wake up to this every day.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Carla adds. “I’d never get any work done.”

“I manage,” you say, grinning. The truth is, it’s still surreal to you too. This place is everything you didn’t know you wanted, and sometimes you catch yourself staring out those windows, trying to remind yourself that it’s real.

“Man, I bet you never want to leave,” Katie says, still wandering around like she’s in a museum.

“Not when she has everything she needs right here,” Peter quips. “Look at this kitchen. You could probably host a Michelin chef here.”

You open the fridge, grabbing a bottle of sparkling water. “I wouldn’t know. I mostly use it for reheating leftovers.”

“You’re telling me this place has a kitchen like this, and you’re eating takeout?” Carla gasps dramatically, as if this is the most offensive thing she’s heard all day.

You shrug, uncapping the bottle. “Priorities.”

There’s a pause as everyone takes another lap of the apartment, taking in the minimalist, yet undeniably luxurious decor. The vibe is light, but you can feel the unspoken curiosity still lingering in the air.

“So … how well off are we talking, exactly?” Katie asks, not looking at you directly but instead at the marble countertops.

You shrug again, like it’s not that big of a deal. “Comfortable. Let’s just say he’s good at what he does.”

“I’ll say,” Peter mutters under his breath, and you can’t help but smirk.

For a moment, there’s silence again, but then Carla’s eyes light up like she’s had the best idea in the world. “Wait. Hold on. You know what I need to see?”

You raise an eyebrow, curious but already a little wary of where this is headed. “What?”

“Your closet.”

You blink, caught off guard by the request. “My closet?”

Katie jumps in, clapping her hands together. “Oh my god, yes. I didn’t even think of that. You have to show us.”

“I-” You hesitate, glancing towards the hallway. You hadn’t planned on giving them a tour of your personal space. “It’s not-”

“Come on!” Carla insists, grabbing your arm and pulling you towards the hallway with an eager grin. “We won’t judge. We just want to see.”

“Please?” Katie adds, pouting slightly for emphasis.

You laugh, giving in. “Fine, fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

As you lead them down the hallway, you can feel the anticipation in the air. When you stop in front of the large double doors, their excitement is palpable. You twist the knob, pushing the doors open with a small sigh.

“Okay, here it is.”

The collective gasp that follows is almost comical. You step aside, letting them wander into the massive walk-in closet, which feels more like a high-end boutique than anything else. The walls are lined with shelves and racks overflowing with designer labels. Chanel, Dior, Balmain, Gucci. Every label under the sun is here, all neatly arranged and organized in a way that’s both overwhelming and aesthetically pleasing.

Carla immediately rushes to a rack, her fingers brushing over the fabric of a Givenchy gown. “Are you kidding me?”

“This is unreal,” Katie whispers, her voice filled with awe as she runs her hand over a pair of Louboutin heels. “It’s like a dream.”

Peter whistles low, leaning against the doorframe, trying to play it cool, but even he looks impressed. “I’ve never seen this much designer stuff in one place.”

“I’ve only worn, like, half of it,” you admit sheepishly.

Carla spins around, her mouth hanging open. “Half? You could dress an army in here.”

You laugh, leaning against the doorframe, watching them fawn over the collection like kids in a candy store. It’s surreal, seeing your life through their eyes. To you, it’s just your brother’s way of making sure you’re taken care of, but to them, it’s something out of a movie.

Katie pulls out a vintage Valentino dress, holding it up in front of her. “I would die for this.”

“Please don’t,” you tease. “It’s just clothes.”

“Just clothes?” Carla repeats, incredulous. “This is practically a museum of couture.”

They spend the next several minutes pulling out pieces, laughing and gasping at everything from limited-edition handbags to extravagant gowns, and you can’t help but smile. It’s kind of fun, seeing them so excited, even if you still feel a little weird about the whole thing.

Finally, Carla turns to you, eyes wide. “Okay, you have to let us borrow something for the next event. Like, you have to.”

You shake your head, laughing. “We’ll see.”

But as they continue to gush over your closet, you realize that maybe it’s not such a big deal after all. Maybe sharing a little piece of this life with them doesn’t have to feel strange. Maybe it can just be fun.

***

Class is over before you realize it. Professor Turnier’s lecture on the intricacies of international negotiations had been more droning than usual, and the faint buzz of students gathering their things fills the hall. You shove your notebook into your bag, barely listening to the idle chatter around you. There’s a slight tension in the air that you can’t quite place, a sharpness that feels out of sync with the mundane end to the lecture.

You stand up to leave when you hear the professor’s voice, smooth and calculated.

“Could you stay behind for a moment?”

You freeze, glancing over your shoulder. His words aren’t unusual. He often asks students to hang back to discuss assignments or offer advice on projects. But something about his tone feels different. Off.

You sling your bag over your shoulder and nod, offering a polite, if tight, smile. “Sure.”

The last few students file out of the room, their footsteps echoing in the now-empty lecture hall. You hesitate before walking down toward his desk, feeling his gaze tracking your movements. His office is just off the hall, an enclosed glass-walled space where you can already see stacks of papers cluttering his desk.

“Come in,” he says, gesturing towards the open door, his voice too casual.

You step inside, noting the heavy scent of tobacco clinging to the air, and the way the blinds are partially drawn, casting strange shadows across the room. You stand near the door, feeling a sudden urge to stay as close to an exit as possible.

“Have a seat,” Turnier offers, motioning toward the chair across from his desk.

“I’m okay standing,” you say, trying to keep your tone light, even though your instincts are kicking into overdrive.

The professor doesn’t push it. He leans back in his chair, tapping his fingers together, watching you with a strange smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’ve been doing quite well in this course,” he starts, his voice calm and slow. “Very well, actually.”

You nod, unsure where this is going. “Thanks. I’ve been putting in a lot of work.”

“I can tell,” he replies. “You’re … very impressive.”

There’s a flicker of something unsettling in his words, and your stomach tightens.

He clears his throat, standing from his chair and walking around the desk to lean casually against the front of it, much closer now. “You know, I’ve been thinking. Someone like you, with your intelligence, your connections, could really go far in this world.”

You glance toward the door, wondering how much longer you’ll have to listen to him before you can politely excuse yourself. “I’m just focusing on the coursework right now. Trying to stay on top of things.”

“Of course,” he says, nodding, but his eyes are still on you. There’s a slowness to his movements, a deliberate lack of urgency that feels like he’s setting up for something. “But you could be doing so much more. I could help you.”

You take a step back instinctively. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

His smile widens, though there’s nothing friendly about it now. “You know exactly what I mean.”

You stare at him, the air in the room thick with a sudden, unmistakable tension. The distance between you feels far too small. He’s watching you with a kind of predatory stillness, like he’s waiting for a reaction, like he wants you to feel trapped.

“I should probably go,” you say, your voice steady but your heart pounding in your chest. “I have another class soon.”

Before you can move, his hand darts out, grabbing your wrist with a firm grip. The shift from casual to threatening is immediate, and panic flares in your chest. “You’re not going anywhere yet.”

You try to pull your hand free, but he tightens his grip, pulling you closer. His other hand moves to your waist, fingers curling possessively as his breath catches in a disgusting, anticipatory way.

“I could do a lot for you,” he murmurs, his face too close to yours now. “You’re smart enough to know that. I could make your career. Or ruin it.”

His hand slides lower, and you freeze, caught in the horror of the moment, disbelief mixing with disgust. But then something in you snaps.

“Get off me,” you say through gritted teeth, your voice trembling but fierce.

He laughs, a low, condescending sound that makes your skin crawl. “You don’t want to make this difficult.”

Your body moves before your mind fully catches up. With all the force you can muster, you slam your knee upward into his groin. His breath catches in his throat as he doubles over, releasing you instantly, his face twisting in pain. He stumbles back, clutching himself, groaning in agony.

You don’t wait for him to recover. You turn toward the door, ready to sprint out of his office and never look back. But just as your hand grips the doorknob, you hear his voice, raw and venomous behind you.

“You’ll regret this.”

You stop, your pulse pounding in your ears, but you don’t turn around.

“I’ll make sure you regret this,” he spits, still hunched over but his voice sharp and filled with fury. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”

You swallow hard, every muscle in your body tensing.

“You think your money can protect you?” He sneers, his words like poison. “I have friends — powerful friends. You think you can humiliate me like this and just walk away? You’ll never have a career. I’ll make sure of it.”

You stare at the door in front of you, every instinct screaming at you to leave, but his words hang in the air, twisting into something darker, something more sinister.

“I know people. People who could make your life hell. Mafia connections, sweetheart,” he says with a sickening smirk, though his voice is still ragged from the pain. “You have no idea how easily I could ruin you.”

Your breath catches, your fingers gripping the doorknob so tightly your knuckles turn white. His threat lingers, the weight of it pressing down on you. You’ve heard stories — whispers of people who move in dangerous circles, people who have connections that go far beyond what you’d ever imagined dealing with.

You know he could be bluffing. He probably is. But what if he’s not?

You force yourself to open the door, stepping out into the hallway, your legs trembling. You don’t look back. You can’t. The hallway is empty, the echoes of your footsteps the only sound as you walk, faster and faster, away from his office, away from the suffocating tension of what just happened.

But his voice, that horrible promise, follows you like a shadow.

“I’m going to ruin you.”

You step out of the building, the cool Mediterranean air hitting your face, but it doesn’t calm the storm inside you. You feel the bile rise in your throat as you stop just outside the doors, leaning against the wall and trying to steady your breathing.

Your mind races, replaying everything that just happened. The feel of his hands on you, the way he looked at you, the way he thought he could get away with it. And then his threat — the weight of it hanging over you, heavy and suffocating.

What now?

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, but you don’t look at it. You can’t focus on anything but the gnawing sense of fear and anger churning inside you. For a second, you consider going back. Reporting him. But then you remember the look in his eyes, the cold certainty in his voice when he made that threat.

Mafia connections.

It sounds ridiculous, like something out of a movie. But here, in Monaco, where money and power intermingle in ways that blur the lines between the law and something far darker, it doesn’t feel so far-fetched.

You push yourself away from the wall and start walking, needing to move, needing to get away from the university, from the weight of what just happened. But as you walk, your mind keeps circling back to the same thought.

He’s not going to get away with this.

You refuse to let him.

***

You don’t remember driving to Charles’ apartment. The world outside had blurred into a haze of flashing lights and slick streets, your breath ragged in your chest as you fought to hold back the tears. By the time you park the car, your hands are shaking, white-knuckled on the steering wheel. You sit there for a second, trying to gather yourself, but the weight of what happened presses down, heavy and relentless.

Finally, you stumble out of the car, slamming the door shut, your footsteps hurried as you rush toward the entrance of the building. Your vision swims, the tears threatening to spill over, but you force yourself to keep moving, to get to Charles.

You don’t even knock when you reach his door. You punch in the code he gave you a long time ago and push the door open, not caring about anything but the need to see him, to feel safe for even a second.

Charles is in the living room, standing by the kitchen counter, his head turning the moment you step inside. His face instantly shifts from casual surprise to deep concern when he sees you — your tear-streaked face, your trembling body. He moves toward you without hesitation, his arms reaching out before you can even say a word.

“What happened?” He asks, his voice low and urgent as he pulls you into his chest. His strong arms wrap around you, holding you close, his warmth grounding you in a way you didn’t even know you needed.

You try to speak, but the words are stuck in your throat, tangled with sobs. You collapse into him, your legs giving way as the tears finally break free. His grip tightens as he catches you, lowering you gently onto the couch, cradling you like a child. You bury your face in his chest, gasping for air between sobs.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he murmurs, rocking you gently, his hand running through your hair in soothing strokes. “You’re safe now. You’re with me. Just breathe, okay?”

You try to follow his instructions, but your breaths come out jagged, choking on the tears. It feels like the whole day is crashing down on you at once, and the more you try to hold it together, the more everything falls apart.

He keeps murmuring reassurances, his hand never leaving your hair, his other arm a firm anchor around your shoulders. “I’ve got you. I’m right here. Just take your time.”

It takes a few minutes before you can even manage to form a coherent sentence. The sobs slow, but your whole body still trembles in his arms. You pull back just enough to look up at him, your face wet, eyes puffy, but the words still feel thick on your tongue.

“Charles …” Your voice breaks, and another hiccup escapes before you can stop it. “It’s … it’s my professor. H-He …”

His face hardens instantly, the warmth in his expression replaced by something darker, colder. “What did he do?”

You swallow, trying to steady your breathing, but the panic rises again as the memory of that office, the way his hands grabbed you, floods back. You squeeze your eyes shut, your words coming out in a rush. “H-He tried to touch me. He wouldn’t let me leave. I-I had to push him off me, and he said … he said he’s going to ruin me, Charles.”

Your voice cracks, and fresh tears spill over as you cling to him, your fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt like a lifeline.

Charles doesn’t say anything at first, but you feel the tension radiating through his body. His grip on you tightens, and when you finally open your eyes, you see the fury etched into his face, his jaw clenched so hard it looks like it might snap.

“He what?” His voice is low, almost too calm, but there’s a dangerous edge beneath it.

You nod, your words barely a whisper. “He grabbed me, and I pushed him, but he … he said he’s going to fail me now. He said he has mafia connections, and he’s going to ruin my life.”

For a second, Charles just stares at you, his eyes dark with something unnameable. Then, suddenly, he pulls you even closer, wrapping his arms around you so tightly it feels like he’s trying to shield you from the entire world.

“He’s not going to do a goddamn thing,” Charles says, his voice rough but steady. “I won’t let him. I promise you, he won’t get away with this.”

You hiccup, shaking your head against his chest. “But he … he said-”

“I don’t care what he said,” Charles cuts in, his hand moving to cup the back of your head, pressing your face into his shoulder. “He’s not going to touch your career. He’s not going to touch you. I’ll make sure of that.”

Your whole body shakes, the weight of his words sinking in, but the fear doesn’t leave. It clings to you, tight and suffocating, like a shadow you can’t shake. “He said he knows people, Charles. Dangerous people.”

“I know people too,” he says, his voice hard, cold in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. “You’re my sister. He’ll wish he’d never crossed you.”

You pull back slightly, blinking up at him, your brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

He lets out a slow breath, his hand brushing a tear from your cheek. “You don’t need to worry about that. Just trust me, okay? I’ll handle it.”

“But-”

“No buts,” he says, his tone brooking no argument. “I’ll take care of everything. You just need to focus on staying safe. I won’t let him come near you again.”

Your lip trembles, and you lean into him, letting yourself be comforted by his certainty, by the strength of his promise. But the words the professor had said — his sneering, his threats — they linger in your mind, gnawing at you.

“What if he really can do it?” You whisper, the fear creeping back in. “What if he ruins me, Charles? What if-”

“He won’t,” Charles says firmly. “I’ll make sure of it.”

You press your face into his chest again, trying to breathe through the panic. He holds you, rocking you gently, his voice a steady anchor in the storm.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” he murmurs, his voice softening. “You’re my little sister. No one messes with you and gets away with it. Do you understand?”

You nod against his chest, your tears slowly subsiding as his words wrap around you like a protective shield.

“I’ll make him pay for what he did,” Charles says, his voice dropping lower, more serious. “He’s not going to hurt you again. And he sure as hell isn’t going to ruin your career. I’ll make sure of it.”

For the first time since you walked into his apartment, you feel a small flicker of relief. Charles has always been the one to make things right, the one who takes care of things when you can’t. If anyone can fix this, it’s him.

“But how?” You whisper, looking up at him, your voice fragile.

He meets your gaze, his expression softening just a bit, though the fire still burns in his eyes. “I have my ways.”

The cryptic answer doesn’t do much to soothe you, but there’s something in his voice, in the way he holds you, that makes you trust him. You know he means what he says. He always has.

You let out a shaky breath, leaning into him again, your body exhausted from the rollercoaster of emotions. “I don’t know what to do.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Charles says, his voice gentle now. “I’ve got this. You just need to rest. Take a breath. You’ve been through enough.”

His words wash over you, and you feel yourself relaxing slightly, the weight lifting just enough for you to breathe again.

“Thank you,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, his hand still cradling you like you’re something precious. “You don’t need to thank me. You’re family. I’ll always protect you.”

***

Max sits at the head of a long, polished mahogany table, a glass of whiskey resting in front of him. The dim lighting casts sharp shadows across the room, reflecting the power and wealth that permeates everything around him. He’s calm, calculating, the very image of control, his blue eyes scanning the room as his men discuss the details of the night’s business. There’s an unspoken respect, an awareness that every word spoken in his presence is weighted, measured, as if any misstep could have consequences.

Charles is beside him, his right-hand man and oldest friend, the only one who can match Max’s intensity. Charles leans back in his chair, but there’s a tension in his posture tonight — something Max doesn’t miss.

Max notices everything.

It’s been that way since the day he took over the family business, since he became the Max Verstappen, the name that inspires both reverence and fear in equal measure.

His phone buzzes on the table, breaking the momentary silence. He reaches for it, raising an eyebrow when he sees the number. Unknown, but local.

“Hold that thought,” Max says to the room, lifting a finger as he stands up and steps away from the table, phone in hand. He walks toward the tall windows overlooking the city. Monaco spreads out beneath him, glittering under the night sky. With a flick of his thumb, he answers the call.

“Yeah?” His voice is deep, smooth, but edged with impatience. He doesn’t do pleasantries with strangers.

There’s a pause on the other end, and then a voice, hesitant but smug, seeps through. “Mr. Verstappen. I wasn’t sure if you’d answer.”

Max frowns slightly, recognizing that tone — someone who thinks they’ve called in a favor, someone who believes they have power. He hates those kinds of people.

“Who is this?” He asks, cutting to the point.

“This is Alan Turnier. I was told you’re a man who gets things done … discreetly.” There’s an oily confidence to his words, and Max’s frown deepens.

He’s heard the name before. Some professor at the university, an arrogant prick by all accounts. Charles had mentioned him in passing a few times, and now the man is calling him, of all people.

“And what exactly do you want from me, Professor?” Max’s voice is low, his tone dangerously calm. He already doesn’t like where this is going.

“Well,” the professor begins, “I’ve got a problem. A student. A rather difficult one, actually. She’s been causing some … trouble, and I need her to be taken down a peg or two. You know, rough her up a bit, teach her a lesson.”

Max’s grip on the phone tightens, but his face remains impassive. He’s handled scumbags like this before. He’s used to people thinking they can use him to solve their petty problems.

“Who’s the student?” Max asks, keeping his voice steady, though there’s a hard edge beneath it now.

The professor chuckles like he’s sharing a secret. “Her name’s Y/N Leclerc. She’s been a real pain. Thought she could get away with disrespecting me, so I figured I’d call in a favor. Make sure she learns her place.”

Max stops breathing for a moment.

The name hits him like a sledgehammer, slamming into his chest with a force he didn’t expect. His mind races, his body going rigid as every instinct flares up. Charles’ sister. Your name. The girl he’s known for years. The one he’s always been protective of, even if he’s kept his distance. The one who’s always had that soft, unaffected smile that somehow disarmed him, even when nothing else could.

His free hand curls into a fist.

“What did you say?” Max’s voice drops dangerously low, quieter now, but the threat in it is unmistakable.

“I said she needs to be put in her place,” the professor repeats, not realizing the fatal mistake he’s just made. “A little lesson in respect. Maybe scare her a bit — she’s been thinking she’s untouchable.”

Max’s vision narrows. The world outside the window blurs as a violent rage surges through him. He’s usually calm, calculated, but this? The idea of anyone laying a hand on you? His jaw tightens, his pulse quickening with the force of the anger boiling inside him.

Without another word, Max pulls the phone away from his ear and stares at it for a second. He doesn’t think — he acts. His grip tightens, and with a sharp motion, he hurls the phone across the room, sending it crashing against the wall. The sound of it shattering echoes through the room as shards of glass and metal fall to the floor.

“Max?” Charles’ voice cuts through the haze, concerned and alert. He’s already on his feet, moving toward Max. “What the hell was that about?”

Max doesn’t answer immediately. His chest heaves with barely restrained fury, his hands still balled into fists at his sides. He breathes deeply, trying to steady himself, but the rage won’t let go. It claws at him, consuming him.

“Max.” Charles is in front of him now, eyes searching his face for an answer, his own tension rising. He’s seen Max angry before, but this? This is different. Personal. “Talk to me. What happened?”

Max finally meets his gaze, his voice like gravel as he speaks. “That was Turnier. The professor.”

Charles’ eyes narrow at the mention of the name. “What did he want?”

Max clenches his teeth, trying to control the storm inside him. “He wanted me to rough up a student for him. Said she was causing trouble.”

Charles’ face darkens, his own anger simmering just beneath the surface. “Who?”

Max’s eyes burn with intensity as he holds Charles’ gaze. “Y/N.”

The moment her name leaves his lips, Charles freezes. The color drains from his face, and his jaw tightens. “What?”

Max doesn’t repeat himself. He doesn’t need to. The weight of what the professor asked for hangs heavy between them, the unspoken understanding thickening the air.

“He didn’t know she’s your sister,” Max says, his voice low but lethal. “Didn’t know she’s my family.”

Charles exhales sharply, his fists clenched. “What did you say to him?”

“I didn’t say anything,” Max growls, his voice hardening. “I hung up. Smashed the phone.”

There’s a long pause as the two of them stand there, the weight of the situation settling in. Charles looks like he’s ready to explode, his hands twitching as if he wants to hit something, anything, to release the rage coursing through him.

Max, however, remains deadly calm on the outside, even though the fury inside him is almost unbearable. His mind races with possibilities, with thoughts of what he’s going to do next. He has power, more than Turnier could ever imagine, and he’s going to use every ounce of it to make sure that man never comes near you again.

“We’ll handle this,” Max says finally, his voice cold, determined. “He’s going to regret even thinking about touching her.”

Charles nods, but his eyes are still filled with a kind of wild, protective fury. “I want to be there when you do.”

Max meets his gaze, and for the first time since the call, a grim smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “You will be.”

For a moment, they stand in silence, the only sound the faint hum of the city below. Then Max turns back toward the table, his movements deliberate as he grabs the decanter of whiskey and pours himself another glass, the liquid sloshing into the crystal tumbler.

“Call Nico,” Max says to Charles, his tone businesslike but laced with an edge of menace. “We’re going to need a cleanup crew. And tell him to bring the big car.”

Charles doesn’t hesitate, already pulling out his phone, his expression steely. Max takes a long sip of the whiskey, the burn of it doing nothing to dull the fire inside him. He knows what needs to be done, and he knows exactly how to make Turnier pay.

The professor had no idea who he was messing with.

Max sets the glass down with a sharp click, his mind already working through the logistics, the steps he’ll take to destroy the man who dared to threaten you. Because this isn’t just about revenge. It’s about protecting what’s his. And as far as Max is concerned, you’ve always been part of that.

“I’ll take care of it,” Max says, more to himself than to anyone else, his voice low and final.

And he will.

No one touches you. Not ever.

***

Max moves through the dimly lit warehouse with the kind of purpose that turns heads and commands silence. Every step is deliberate, every movement calculated. His men line the walls, standing in the shadows like sentinels, but none of them speak. Not when Max is like this. Not when the air is thick with the unspoken threat that something bad is about to happen.

Charles walks beside him, his face set in hard lines, his shoulders tight with barely restrained fury. The kind of fury only family could ignite. The kind that burns hotter and longer than anything else.

At the center of the room, tied to a steel chair, is Professor Turnier.

He’s already bruised, his face swollen from the initial “conversation” Max’s men had with him. But this? This is different. Max and Charles didn’t come here to chat. They came to finish this.

Turnier’s eyes dart nervously between the two men as they approach. His arrogance, his smug self-assurance — it’s gone now, replaced by something desperate and fearful.

“Please … I didn’t know!” Turnier’s voice trembles as he speaks, his words tumbling out too quickly, as if speed could save him. “I didn’t know she was your sister. If I’d known-”

Charles steps forward before Max can, grabbing Turnier by the front of his shirt and yanking him forward, close enough that the professor’s breath hitches in fear. “You think that matters?” Charles hisses, his voice low, lethal. “You think it makes a difference who she is to me?”

Turnier’s lips quiver, his face pale. “I-I didn’t mean-”

“You didn’t mean?” Max’s voice cuts in, smooth but ice-cold, his hands sliding into the pockets of his tailored suit as he steps up beside Charles. “You didn’t mean to assault her? Didn’t mean to threaten her future? Didn’t mean to call me, of all people, to finish your dirty work?”

Turnier’s mouth opens, but no words come out. Max watches him with a look of disdain, his lip curling slightly. It’s pathetic, really — this man, who had so much confidence, so much entitlement when he thought he had control, now reduced to a trembling, sniveling mess.

Max tilts his head, eyes narrowing as he studies Turnier. “Do you know what I do to people who ask me to hurt someone I care about?”

Turnier shakes his head frantically, tears already beginning to spill from his eyes. “Please … I didn’t know. I didn’t know who she was. I was wrong, I see that now. Just — just let me go. I’ll leave. I’ll disappear. I won’t come near her ever again. I swear!”

Charles lets out a low, bitter laugh, but there’s no humor in it. He releases his grip on Turnier’s shirt, only to backhand him across the face with such force that the chair tilts. The professor yelps, blood spraying from his split lip as he teeters before slamming back down onto the floor.

“You think it’s that easy?” Charles growls, his hands flexing at his sides, itching for more. “You think you can just walk away after what you did?”

Turnier groans, his head lolling to the side. “I-I made a mistake. I can fix it. I can-”

“No.” Max’s voice is sharp, final. “There’s no fixing this.”

He steps closer, crouching down so he’s at eye level with Turnier, his expression unreadable, his dark eyes boring into the professor’s. Turnier tries to look away, but Max grabs his chin, forcing their eyes to meet. “You thought you were untouchable, didn’t you? That no one would question you. That you could do whatever you wanted and get away with it.”

Turnier’s breath comes out in shaky gasps, his eyes wild with fear. “Please, I’ll do anything. Just let me go.”

Max shakes his head slowly, as if he’s disappointed. “You don’t understand. This isn’t about what you can do. It’s about what I’m going to do to you.”

Turnier whimpers, his whole body shaking now, the weight of his impending fate finally settling in.

Max stands, his movements graceful, effortless. He turns to Charles, who is vibrating with rage, his fists clenched, every muscle in his body taut like a coiled spring.

“Charles,” Max says calmly, “what do you think we should take first?”

Turnier’s eyes widen in terror as he realizes what’s coming. He jerks in the chair, trying to free himself from the ropes that bind him, but it’s no use. His voice cracks as he screams, “No, please — no! Don’t!”

Charles steps forward, his eyes gleaming with a cold, focused hatred. “The tongue,” he says, his voice low, almost detached. “He won’t need that anymore.”

Max nods, as if that was exactly the right answer. He moves to the side, and one of his men steps forward, placing a gleaming pair of pliers on the table in front of them. Turnier’s screams grow louder, more desperate, but Max simply gestures to one of the guards.

“Gag him,” he orders.

The guard nods, shoving a rag into Turnier’s mouth to stifle his cries. The professor writhes in his chair, his face contorting with panic, but there’s nowhere to go, no one coming to save him.

Max picks up the pliers, turning them over in his hand, his eyes cold and detached as he tests their weight. He looks at Charles. “Do you want the honors, or should I?”

Charles’ lips twist into a grim smile, and he steps forward, taking the pliers from Max without hesitation. “I’ve got it.”

Turnier’s muffled screams are nothing more than background noise now, a pathetic, meaningless sound that neither man pays much attention to. Charles leans down, grabbing Turnier by the jaw and forcing his mouth open, the gag now drenched with the professor’s tears and saliva. He positions the pliers inside the professor’s mouth, gripping his tongue with merciless precision.

Turnier’s eyes roll back in his head, his body jerking violently against the ropes. Charles pauses, glancing over at Max, who watches with a cool, detached expression.

“Do it,” Max says, his voice calm.

And Charles does. The sound of the tongue being ripped from Turnier’s mouth is wet, violent, and final. Blood gushes from the professor’s mouth as he slumps forward, his body sagging in the chair as he groans in pain, the gag doing little to mask the wet, gurgling sounds of his suffering.

Charles tosses the bloodied piece of flesh to the floor, wiping his hands on a handkerchief one of Max’s men offers him. He looks down at the professor, disgust evident in his eyes.

“Not so smug now, are you?” Charles mutters, stepping back as Max approaches again.

Max crouches down, staring at Turnier, who can barely keep his head up. “We’re not done,” Max says softly, his voice chilling in its softness. “You hurt her. You wanted to destroy her life, her future. Now we’re going to make sure you never hurt anyone again.”

He motions to the guard once more. “Strip him.”

The men don’t hesitate. They move quickly, cutting away Turnier’s clothes until he’s bare, his body trembling in the cold air of the warehouse. Max nods to Charles, who steps forward, his eyes dark with satisfaction. He picks up a blade this time — small, sharp, efficient.

Without a word, Charles steps forward and swings the knife with brutal precision. The scream that comes from Turnier’s throat — guttural, primal, filled with the pain of someone who knows they will never be whole again — echoes through the empty warehouse.

Max watches impassively as the professor collapses in on himself, blood pooling beneath the chair, his sobs now nothing more than broken gasps. He kneels again, leaning in close, his face calm, his voice quiet.

“If you ever thought you were untouchable, I hope tonight has taught you otherwise. You will never speak again. You will never harm another woman again. You will spend the rest of your life as a reminder of what happens when you cross someone who’s mine.”

Max stands up, looking at Charles. “Make sure he’s cleaned up. Dump him where someone will find him. Let him explain to the world what happened without his tongue.”

Charles nods, his chest still heaving with anger, but he knows it’s over. Turnier’s life is ruined. He’ll live, but barely. And the fear will stay with him forever.

Max takes one last look at the professor, broken and bleeding, before turning to leave. His voice, cold and resolute, echoes in the warehouse as he walks away.

“No one touches her. Ever.”

***

The next day, you walk into the lecture hall with your usual sense of dread. Every step feels heavier than the last, the weight of what happened with Professor Turnier pressing down on you like a lead blanket. Even though Charles assured you everything was handled, you can’t stop the anxious thrum of nerves coursing through you. What if Turnier follows through with his threat? What if he finds some way to make your life hell without you even knowing it? The thoughts circle in your mind like vultures as you make your way to your seat.

The room is already buzzing with the usual chatter of students. You sit down next to Camille, who shoots you a quick smile before returning to scrolling through her phone.

"Are you okay?” She asks absently, still distracted by whatever is on her screen.

You nod, forcing a tight smile. "Yeah, just tired.”

Camille glances at you, her brow furrowing slightly, but she doesn't press it. "Same. This class is killing me. I swear if I have to sit through another one of Turnier’s mind-numbing lectures, I might actually pass out.”

The mention of his name sends a jolt through you, but you manage to keep your expression neutral. The thought of seeing him, of facing him after what happened, makes your stomach twist. You wonder if he’ll look at you, if he’ll acknowledge anything at all — or if he’ll act like nothing happened. The idea makes your skin crawl.

More students trickle in, filling the room, the noise level rising with laughter and chatter. You find yourself scanning the doorway, bracing yourself for the moment when Turnier walks in with that smug expression, as if he still holds all the power. Your heart hammers in your chest, fingers gripping the edge of your notebook a little too tightly.

But the door swings open, and instead of Turnier, someone else walks in.

There’s an immediate hush that falls over the room, the shift so sudden it feels like the air has been sucked out of the space. The new professor strides in confidently, carrying a few books under one arm and glancing briefly at the rows of students. He looks like he belongs in an entirely different world — a man in his mid-40s, tall, with salt-and-pepper hair and sharp, intelligent eyes. He wears a tailored suit, but his demeanor is far more relaxed than Turnier’s ever was.

He sets his things down on the desk at the front of the room, and for a moment, no one says a word. Everyone seems to be waiting for some kind of explanation, the tension palpable as the professor faces the class.

“Good morning, everyone,” he says, his voice calm, clear, and authoritative. “I’m Professor Mathieu, and I’ll be taking over for the remainder of the semester.”

You feel the shift in the room as everyone processes what he’s just said. Whispers immediately break out among the students, confused murmurs of “What happened to Turnier?” and “Did anyone know about this?” ripple through the lecture hall. Your heart skips a beat, and you sit up straighter, shock momentarily pushing the anxiety aside.

Camille leans in toward you, her voice a hushed whisper. “Did you hear that? What do you think happened to Turnier?”

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to keep your expression neutral. “No idea,” you say quietly, hoping the tremor in your voice isn’t noticeable.

At the front of the room, Professor Mathieu doesn’t seem fazed by the murmurings. He taps his hand on the desk lightly, drawing everyone’s attention back to him.

“I understand you all have questions,” he says, his tone not unkind, “but I’ve been asked to inform you that Professor Turnier is no longer available. As far as the specifics of his departure, that’s not something I can discuss. What I can tell you is that I’ll be taking over for the rest of the semester, and I expect we’ll all be able to adjust without any issues.”

You can feel the tension in the room crackle like static. Some students exchange glances, but no one dares ask any more questions. You, on the other hand, are frozen in your seat. No longer available. The words echo in your head like a distant bell, sending a surge of relief and confusion through you.

Camille nudges you, leaning in closer. “Do you think he got fired?” She whispers.

You shrug, keeping your voice low. “Maybe. I mean, it’s weird that we didn’t hear anything about it.”

“Super weird,” she agrees, still watching the new professor with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. “I wonder what he did.”

The same question nags at you, but for an entirely different reason. You think of Charles, his words from last night still fresh in your mind: I’ll take care of it. He won’t hurt you ever again. You wonder what exactly he meant by that. Clearly, Turnier isn’t coming back, but what happened to him?

Professor Mathieu opens a folder on the desk and begins to speak, pulling your attention back to the front of the room. “Now, as I said, we’ll be continuing with the curriculum as planned, but I’ll be implementing some changes to the structure of the course. We’ll focus less on rigid theory and more on practical application, which I believe will be more engaging for all of you.”

The shift in focus seems to settle the room slightly. The murmurs die down as he moves into his lecture, his voice smooth and confident. But even as the class starts, you can’t shake the feeling of something monumental having shifted.

You’re barely paying attention as Professor Mathieu drones on about diplomatic history and the complexities of statecraft. Your mind is somewhere else, replaying the events of last night, the relief you felt when Charles held you close and promised to make things right. You glance at the students around you. They have no idea, no inkling of what almost happened. What could have happened.

Suddenly, you feel Camille nudge your arm. You blink and realize you’ve zoned out completely.

“Are you okay?” Camille whispers, her voice laced with concern. “You look … spaced out.”

You offer her a small smile, though you know it doesn’t reach your eyes. “Yeah, just tired, I guess.”

Camille studies you for a second, clearly not convinced, but she drops it. “Well, this is going to be an interesting semester,” she says, her voice light, but there’s an edge to it. “I mean, Turnier just disappearing like that? Something’s gotta be up.”

You glance over at her, trying to play it cool. “Maybe he retired early or something.”

“Yeah, but no one knew? No announcement, nothing? Feels sketchy.”

You don’t respond, just nodding along as you turn your attention back to the new professor, who’s already deep into his lecture. But as the minutes tick by, you can’t help the growing sense of unease in your chest. There’s relief, sure — Turnier’s gone. But the fact that it happened so suddenly, so completely, leaves you with more questions than answers. What did Charles and Max do?

Camille shifts beside you, flipping through her notes and scribbling things down. “At least the new guy seems decent,” she mutters. “Way better than Turnier.”

You nod, though your mind is elsewhere. You can barely focus on the lecture, your thoughts spinning like a whirlpool. Is Turnier really gone for good? Did Charles and Max … do something more than just get him fired? You remember Max’s cold eyes, the way he’d told you once, in passing, that he’d do anything for family. That no one crossed him or those he cared about without consequences.

What kind of consequences?

Your phone buzzes in your lap, pulling you from your thoughts. You glance down discreetly and see a message from Charles.

Everything’s taken care of. You’re safe.

You stare at the words for a long moment, a chill running down your spine. Safe. The word should make you feel better, but somehow, it only deepens the mystery.

You glance around the lecture hall again. Everyone else is oblivious, focused on their notes, their laptops, their whispering conversations about the sudden change in professors. But you know something they don’t. You know that the world you live in is a lot more dangerous than they realize.

***

When you step out of the building, the afternoon sun blinding for a second, you blink to adjust. Students mill around the campus courtyard, some gathered in groups, others rushing to their next class. You fish your car keys out of your bag, already mentally going over what you’ll make for dinner tonight, but as you approach the edge of the steps, you stop dead in your tracks.

Max is there.

Leaning casually against the sleek, charcoal body of his Aston Martin Valkyrie, arms crossed, aviators shielding his eyes. The car is a thing of beauty — sleek lines and aggressive angles, a car that demands attention. And it’s getting it. You can feel the stares from all around. Students have slowed their pace, eyes darting between Max and you. Whispers start spreading through the crowd like wildfire, curious and speculative.

You swallow hard, suddenly hyper-aware of the way your pulse picks up. It’s not unusual for Max to turn heads, but seeing him here, on campus, waiting for you, feels like something else entirely. He’s never been the type to drop by unannounced — especially not in a setting like this.

You step down from the stairs, feeling like every pair of eyes is following you, but your focus is on Max. His casual confidence is unnerving, but then again, it always has been. There’s something about the way he carries himself, like he’s always in control, that makes it hard to breathe around him sometimes.

“Max?” You call out, a mix of confusion and concern in your voice. “What are you doing here?”

He pushes off the car and takes off his sunglasses, revealing those sharp, blue eyes of his, which are locked entirely on you. He walks toward you with a swagger that’s impossible to miss, as if he owns every inch of space he moves through.

“I’m here to pick you up,” he says smoothly, voice low but with a hint of amusement.

You look over your shoulder, towards the student parking lot. “But I drove here,” you protest, feeling a little ridiculous saying it aloud. You motion vaguely in the direction of your car. “I’m fine. I can-”

Max cuts you off with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ll have someone pick it up and drive it back to your place. You’re coming with me.”

You hesitate, feeling the weight of the dozens of gazes on you. Max doesn’t seem to care about the attention at all, which isn’t surprising. He’s used to it. But the thought of climbing into his car, with what feels like half the campus watching, sends a jolt of nervous energy through you.

“Max, I-” you start, but he opens the passenger door with a casual, almost commanding gesture.

“Get in,” he says, his tone leaving little room for argument.

You glance around, noticing some of your classmates openly gawking at the scene. You feel a flush creep up your neck, but there’s no way out of this without causing even more of a spectacle. With a sigh, you lower your head slightly and step forward, sliding into the seat of the Valkyrie. The leather is cool against your skin, the interior smelling of something clean and faintly masculine. Max shuts the door behind you and walks around to the driver’s side, slipping in with fluid grace.

As soon as the door closes, the low hum of the engine fills the air, and Max glances over at you. “Seatbelt,” he says quietly, waiting until you click it in place before pulling away from the curb.

You can’t bring yourself to look out the window as the car glides through campus. You know everyone’s watching. You can almost feel the collective curiosity, the questions that will follow this moment — why is Max picking you up? What’s your relationship? The ride is smooth, the low rumble of the engine making it feel like you’re floating. Max doesn’t speak, and neither do you, but the silence is charged with something unsaid, heavy in the space between you.

It’s not until you’re out of campus, away from the prying eyes, that you risk a glance at him. His jaw is set, eyes focused on the road ahead, his hands relaxed on the wheel. There’s something about the way he drives — calm, controlled, like he’s in command of everything around him.

You chew on your bottom lip, unsure of how to ask the question that’s been gnawing at you since this morning. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you break the silence, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Did you … did you and Charles have anything to do with Turnier being replaced?”

Max doesn’t answer right away. His fingers flex on the steering wheel, his gaze still straight ahead, but there’s a flicker of something dark in his eyes, something cold and calculating. For a moment, you think he might brush off the question, but then he exhales through his nose, a short, humorless sound.

“We took care of it,” he says, his voice firm, unflinching. There’s a note of pride in it, too, a quiet sort of satisfaction.

You feel a shiver run down your spine. “What … what did you do?” You ask, even though you’re not sure you want to know the answer.

Max glances at you, his gaze steady, unyielding. “Turnier won’t be taking advantage of anyone else. Ever again.”

The words hang in the air between you, heavy with implication. You stare at him, trying to process what he’s just said. There’s something final in his tone, something that makes your chest tighten with a mixture of relief and dread.

You swallow hard, turning your gaze back to the road. The tension in the car is palpable now, thick and unspoken. You know better than to push for more details. Max and Charles operate in a world where consequences are swift and absolute. You don’t need to ask what they did to Turnier. The important thing is that he’s gone. He can’t hurt you anymore.

But the weight of that realization — of what Max and Charles might have done — sits heavily in your stomach. You glance at Max again, trying to find something in his expression that might offer more reassurance, but his face is unreadable.

“So that’s it?” You ask, your voice small. “It’s over?”

Max nods, a slight tilt of his head. “It’s over.”

You should feel relieved. You should feel grateful. But there’s something unsettling about how easily they made Turnier disappear. About how calmly Max talks about it, like it’s just another business transaction.

The car continues to glide down the road, and for a while, neither of you speaks. You’re lost in your thoughts, your fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt. The reality of it all is sinking in now — Turnier’s gone. He’s not coming back. But at what cost?

You steal another glance at Max, wondering how much he’s willing to do for you. For Charles. For family.

“Thank you,” you say softly, the words barely audible.

Max doesn’t respond immediately. He keeps his eyes on the road, his expression unreadable. But then, after a moment, he nods once, almost imperceptibly.

“Anything for you,” he says, his voice low and quiet. But there’s a weight to his words, a promise that hangs between you like a silent vow.

You don’t know how to respond, so you just sit there, the sound of the engine filling the silence. Part of you wants to ask more questions, to understand what exactly Max did. But the other part of you — the part that knows how dangerous his world is — tells you to leave it alone.

So you do. You sit back in your seat, watching the city blur by outside the window, and try to focus on the fact that, for now, you’re safe.

***

Max pulls the Valkyrie into the underground garage of his building, and the moment you step out, the cool air hits your skin, grounding you again. The weight of the day, of everything that’s happened, still presses on your chest. You follow Max through the private elevator, feeling the tension rise the higher you go. When the elevator doors slide open, revealing Max’s penthouse, the warm glow of the lights and the familiar scent of home greet you.

Charles is waiting.

He stands by the window, a drink in hand, but the moment he sees you and Max step in, his expression softens. He strides over, his eyes searching your face, concern etched in every line of his posture.

"How’re you holding up?” Charles asks gently, wrapping you in a brief but firm hug.

You exhale into his embrace, grateful for the comfort. "I’m … better,” you admit, your voice steadier than you expect. But the presence of both men, these two constants in your life, makes everything feel a little less overwhelming.

Charles glances between you and Max as he steps back, something flickering in his eyes. “Good. You’re in safe hands.” The way he says it, like there’s something more behind the words, makes your heart skip a beat.

Max doesn’t say anything. He just stands there, tall and imposing, his gaze fixed on you. You feel the weight of it, the intensity, and it’s making you too aware of everything — the closeness of him, the way his arm brushes against yours as you move toward the dining table, the way your pulse quickens every time he looks at you.

The table is already set — simple but elegant. You all sit, and Charles takes the head of the table, a casual smirk tugging at his lips as Max takes the seat opposite you. The food is rich and fragrant, the kind of meal that should make your mouth water, but you’re finding it hard to focus on anything other than the electricity buzzing in the air between you and Max.

The dinner conversation starts out light. Charles talks about work, a new deal he’s working on, and you try to engage, but your mind keeps drifting back to Max. His presence is impossible to ignore, especially when you feel his eyes on you. Every time you steal a glance at him, he’s already looking at you, like he’s been watching you the whole time.

And he has been watching you.

It’s not subtle, the way Max’s eyes linger on you, the way his gaze softens whenever you speak, like he’s memorizing every word. You try not to read too much into it — this is just Max being Max, right? He’s always been protective, always looked out for you. But tonight … there’s something else in the way he looks at you, something deeper, more intense.

You take a bite of your food, trying to focus on anything other than the heat creeping up your neck. But every time you dare to look back at Max, you catch his gaze, and your heart stutters in your chest. There’s a softness in his eyes, something that makes your breath hitch, and you have to look away before it overwhelms you.

Charles, ever the observer, doesn’t miss a thing. He watches the silent exchange between the two of you for a good part of the meal, his eyes flicking between you and Max like he’s piecing together a puzzle. His lips quirk up in a knowing smile, but he doesn’t say anything. Not yet.

It’s halfway through the meal when the silence stretches a little too long, the weight of the unspoken tension thick in the air. You keep your eyes on your plate, your hand trembling slightly as you reach for your water glass. Max hasn’t said a word in what feels like forever, but his gaze — God, you can feel it like a physical touch.

And then, just when the tension feels unbearable, Charles leans back in his chair, placing his utensils down with an exaggerated clatter, and clears his throat dramatically.

"Alright,” he says, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "This has been fun and all, but I’ve had enough of watching you two make heart eyes at each other across the table.”

Your fork freezes midway to your mouth. You glance up, eyes wide, and catch Max’s expression — a mix of surprise and amusement flickering across his face.

Charles grins, entirely too pleased with himself. "Seriously,” he continues, shaking his head in mock exasperation. "I mean, it’s cute, don’t get me wrong. But how long are you two gonna keep pretending there’s nothing going on here?”

Your face burns, and you open your mouth to protest, but nothing comes out. You don’t even know what you’d say if you could. Deny it? Laugh it off? You’re not even sure what this is, let alone how to explain it.

Max doesn’t flinch. He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms, and raises an eyebrow at Charles. "Heart eyes?” He repeats, his tone casual but with a hint of a challenge.

Charles smirks, not backing down. "You heard me. I’ve been sitting here watching you two eye each other like you’re the only people in the room. I swear, it’s exhausting.” He looks at you then, his eyes softening slightly. "And for the record, there’s no one in this world I’d trust more with my sister than you, Max.”

Your heart skips a beat. The weight of Charles’ words sinks in, heavy and full of meaning. Max doesn’t react immediately, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes, something that makes your breath catch.

Charles leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, his grin widening. "So, why don’t you two put us all out of our misery and just kiss already?”

The room goes still. You can’t breathe. You glance at Max, your heart racing, and for a split second, you think maybe he’ll laugh it off, that this is just Charles being Charles, stirring the pot for his own amusement.

But Max doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t hesitate. His eyes lock onto yours, intense and unwavering, and before you can even process what’s happening, he stands up, his chair scraping against the floor as he moves.

The next thing you know, Max is in front of you, and without a word, without a second of doubt, he reaches across the table, his hands sliding under your arms. He pulls you out of your seat with such ease, like you weigh nothing, and before you can even register it, you’re being tugged across the table toward him.

Your breath hitches, and your hands instinctively find his shoulders as he pulls you closer. His grip is firm but gentle, and his face is just inches from yours now, his eyes dark with something you’ve never quite seen before.

And then, with a slight tilt of his head, Max closes the distance.

His lips press against yours, warm and soft, and the world around you melts away. Everything goes quiet, every sound, every thought, drowned out by the feel of his mouth on yours. It’s a slow, deliberate kiss, like he’s savoring every second, and your heart pounds so hard you’re sure he can feel it through your chest.

You can feel his hands tighten on your waist, pulling you closer, and you melt into him, your fingers tangling in his shirt as you kiss him back. The taste of him, the warmth of his skin — it’s all consuming, overwhelming in the best possible way.

Charles lets out a low whistle from across the room, but you barely register it. All you can think about is Max, the way he’s holding you, the way his lips move against yours like he’s wanted this for a long time.

“Well,” Charles says, breaking the moment with a grin, “about damn time.”

Max’s breath lingers warm against your lips, and for a moment, the world feels suspended — just you and him, the faint hum of the city outside, the quiet flicker of candlelight on the table. His hands tighten slightly on your waist, pulling you even closer, and the electricity between you ignites into something undeniable.

You kiss him again, harder this time, a soft gasp escaping your lips as his hand slides up your back. Your fingers tangle in his hair, and there’s an intensity in the way he’s holding you, as though he’s been waiting for this moment for years. It’s a slow burn at first, but then something shifts, the heat between you building until you feel like you might explode if you’re not closer, if you can’t feel more of him.

Max responds in kind, his grip on you firm, and his lips more insistent. You forget where you are, lost in the sensation of him — the taste of his mouth, the feel of his body pressed against yours. It’s like nothing else exists, nothing else matters.

But then, from across the table, Charles clears his throat loudly.

You pull back slightly, breathless, and Max’s eyes flash with frustration, as if he’s annoyed at being interrupted. You glance over at Charles, who’s sitting with his arms crossed, one eyebrow raised in amusement, but his expression is serious.

“Alright, alright,” Charles says, his voice calm but firm, like he’s trying to keep the situation from spiraling. “That’s enough for now.”

Max shoots him a look, clearly not on the same page, but Charles just shakes his head.

“Nope, not happening,” Charles continues, pointing between the two of you. “Nothing — and I mean nothing — gets any further without a ring.”

A heavy silence falls over the room. You blink, trying to process what Charles just said. You and Max are both frozen, still tangled together, and you can feel the heat rising in your cheeks. You expect Max to say something — to push back, to laugh it off — but instead, he lets go of your waist and steps back, his jaw tight.

Without a word, Max turns on his heel and walks out of the dining room.

You’re left standing there, stunned, your heart racing for a whole new reason. “What … just happened?” You murmur, looking at Charles for some kind of explanation.

Charles looks just as confused as you feel, his eyes following Max as he leaves the room. “I don’t know,” he admits, his brow furrowed. “I didn’t think he’d-”

Before he can finish his sentence, Max strides back into the room, something small and familiar in his hand. Your eyes widen when you realize it’s a jewelry box. The dark velvet catches the low light, and it’s clear from the way Max holds it that this isn’t a last-minute idea.

He stops in front of you, his expression steady, but there’s a glimmer of something in his eyes — something raw and vulnerable. He meets your gaze, and his voice is low, serious when he speaks.

"Good thing,” Max says, flipping open the box with a flick of his thumb, revealing a dazzling diamond nestled in the center, "I’ve had this since the first time I saw you. Years ago.”

Your heart stops. Literally, you can feel it stutter in your chest as the words sink in.

“What?” The word escapes your lips in a whisper, your gaze darting from the ring to Max’s face, trying to understand if this is real, if you’re not imagining the whole thing.

Max holds your gaze, his eyes unwavering. “I knew,” he says simply, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I knew from the first moment I met you, there was no one else. You were it for me.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and for a moment, you can’t think. You can’t speak. The room feels smaller, quieter, like the entire world has narrowed down to just this — the man standing in front of you, the ring in his hand, the weight of what he’s saying.

Charles, who had been watching the whole scene with a mixture of amusement and curiosity, now leans back in his chair, crossing his arms with a satisfied smirk. “Well, that escalated quickly.”

Max doesn’t take his eyes off you. “I’ve been waiting,” he admits, his voice soft but certain. “Waiting for the right time. But Charles is right. There’s no point in pretending anymore.”

Your chest tightens. You’ve always known there was something between you and Max, something unspoken, something simmering beneath the surface. But you never expected this — never expected him to have felt it for so long, to have been carrying this weight of certainty with him all this time.

The ring sparkles in the dim light, beautiful and overwhelming, and your mind races, trying to catch up with your heart.

“You’ve had that … since we met?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Max nods once, his gaze unwavering. “Since the day Charles introduced us,” he says, his voice low, gravelly. “I knew then. And I’ve kept it, waiting for you to feel the same. I didn’t want to rush you, didn’t want to push you into something you weren’t ready for.”

There’s a pause, the silence between you both filled with a thousand unsaid things.

Charles clears his throat, the amusement in his voice more pronounced now. “So, are we going to do this properly, or what? You’ve got the ring. She’s standing right there.”

You shoot Charles a look, but you can’t help the small, nervous laugh that escapes your lips. “You’re really ruining the moment, you know that?”

Charles shrugs. “Just trying to help.”

Max smirks, and for a brief second, you see the playful edge return to his expression. But then his eyes are back on you, serious, and the weight of what’s happening comes crashing down again.

He steps closer, close enough that you can feel the heat of him, his presence filling up the space around you. “I’ve loved you for a long time,” Max murmurs, his voice softer now, but no less intense. “And I’ll keep loving you for the rest of my life. If you’ll have me.”

You blink back the sudden wave of emotion that threatens to spill over. You never imagined that this moment — this moment — would feel so natural, so right.

“I don’t-” you start, your voice catching, but then you take a deep breath and try again. “I don’t know what to say.”

Max’s smile softens, and he takes your hand, pressing the small jewelry box into your palm. “Say yes,” he whispers.

Your heart pounds in your chest, and for a moment, you just stand there, staring up at him, trying to process the whirlwind of emotions racing through you. But then you look into his eyes — those dark, steady eyes that have always been there for you, always protective, always his — and the answer is clear.

“Yes,” you whisper, barely able to get the word out past the lump in your throat. “Yes, Max.”

Max’s face breaks into a smile, something soft and relieved, and before you can say another word, he’s pulling you into his arms, kissing you with a fervor that leaves you breathless all over again.

Charles lets out a low whistle from the other side of the table, his voice laced with humor. “Well, it’s about damn time.”

Max doesn’t pull away this time. He just kisses you deeper, one hand cupping your face, the other pressing the ring box into your hand like it’s the most precious thing in the world. And to him, you know it is.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead resting against yours, he grins. “Guess you’re stuck with me now.”

You laugh, your heart soaring, and whisper back, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

***

Max pulls the car up to the curb in front of the university, his sleek Valkyrie drawing curious stares from students lingering outside the building. You’re still adjusting to the events of the night before — the suddenness of it all, the weight of the engagement ring now resting on your finger. It feels unreal, like you’re caught in some strange but thrilling dream.

He gets out of the car first, walking around to open the door for you. His hand extends toward you, a protective gesture, and you take it without hesitation. The moment you’re standing, Max pulls you into his arms and kisses you, slow and deliberate, as if he’s making sure the entire campus knows that you’re his.

There’s a pause when he pulls away, his hand still resting on your lower back. “You sure you don’t want me to stick around? Make sure no one bothers you?”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “I’ll be fine. I promise.”

Max gives you one last look, his brow furrowed slightly with concern, but then he steps back and nods. “Alright. Call me if you need anything.”

With that, you turn toward the building, the weight of his gaze on your back as you walk away. Your heart is still racing from the kiss, and you know you’re about to walk into a storm of questions — your friends haven’t even had time to process everything that happened yesterday.

Sure enough, the second you’re inside the courtyard, you hear voices calling your name. You look up to see a group of your classmates, their eyes wide, jaws practically on the floor. They surround you like a pack of excited reporters, eager to get the scoop.

“Who was that?” Katie asks, her eyes still fixed on the spot where Max’s car had been. “And please don’t tell me that’s the same guy who picked you up yesterday. Because holy shit, girl.”

Peter, arms crossed, steps closer, squinting at you with a mix of amusement and suspicion. “Is that why you’ve been acting weird lately? You’re seeing someone?”

You can’t help but smile, feeling the heat rising in your cheeks. “Uh, yeah,” you say, holding up your left hand to show the ring. “That’s Max … my fiancé.”

The group collectively gasps, the air around you suddenly filled with a flurry of shocked exclamations.

“Fiancé?” Carla nearly shrieks, grabbing your hand to inspect the ring up close. “Excuse me? Fiancé? How the hell did we not know about this?”

Katie, clearly still processing, stares at you with wide eyes. “You mean to tell us you’ve been engaged this whole time and didn’t even mention it?”

You laugh nervously, knowing what’s coming. “No, no, it’s not like that. It’s … it just happened. Yesterday.”

The shocked silence that follows your words is almost comical. They all exchange glances, trying to make sense of what you’ve just said.

“Yesterday?” Peter echoes, looking at you like you’ve lost your mind. “You mean you got engaged yesterday?”

You nod, feeling the pressure of their disbelief. “Yeah. Yesterday.”

“And you’ve been seeing this Max guy for how long exactly?” Carla, her arms crossed, eyes skeptical.

You hesitate, knowing the answer is going to send them into another round of questioning. “Uh … officially? One day.”

The shock hits them all at once. They’re staring at you like you’ve just announced that you’re moving to Mars. The disbelief is palpable, and you can practically hear their minds racing.

“One day?” Katie finally blurts out, her eyes wide with disbelief. “You got engaged after one day of being together? Are you serious right now?”

Carla, clearly concerned, steps forward and lowers her voice, like she’s trying to be gentle. “Y/N, I love you, but … are you sure about this? One day? That’s … I mean, that’s crazy.”

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of their judgment, but you stand your ground. “Look,” you say firmly, meeting each of their gazes in turn. “I know it sounds insane. But we’ve known each other for years. Max is Charles’ best friend. We’ve been in each other’s lives for so long, and … we’ve loved each other for a long time. We just didn’t make it official until now.”

Your friends exchange glances again, clearly unsure of how to react. They’re still in shock, still processing, but you can tell they’re trying to understand.

“Okay, but …” Peter starts, struggling to find the right words. “How did you go from ‘just friends’ to engaged overnight?”

You laugh, the memory of last night flooding back, and you shrug. “It wasn’t exactly overnight. It’s been building for a while. We’ve both known how we felt, but neither of us acted on it. And then … well, things happened, and we just decided to stop pretending.”

There’s a long pause as your friends take that in, their faces softening a little. You can see the concern in their eyes, but also a flicker of understanding.

“So … you’ve loved him for years,” Katie finally says, slowly nodding. “And he’s loved you for years. But you just made it official now?”

You nod, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. “Exactly. It might seem fast, but we’ve known this was coming for a long time. We just didn’t realize it until now.”

Your friends are quiet for a moment, and then Carla sighs, throwing her hands up in the air. “Okay, fine. I still think it’s crazy, but … if you’re happy, then I’m happy for you.”

Peter chimes in, smiling a little. “I mean, the ring is gorgeous. And that car? Damn.”

There’s a ripple of laughter through the group, and you feel a sense of relief wash over you. They’re not completely on board yet, but they’re starting to come around.

“So, when’s the wedding?” Katie teases, nudging you playfully. “If you’re moving this fast, I’m assuming it’s next week?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “We haven’t even talked about that yet. It’s still sinking in for both of us.”

Carla grins. “Well, I guess we’ll have to start dress shopping soon. It’s probably going to be some extravagant, over-the-top wedding.”

You can’t help but smile at the thought, your heart fluttering. “I don’t know about that. But … yeah, maybe.”

They laugh again, and you can feel the tension easing. The questions aren’t completely gone, but they’re starting to trust that you know what you’re doing. They’re your friends, after all — they want you to be happy, even if they don’t fully understand how this all happened so fast.

As you start walking toward the lecture hall together, Peter loops his arm through yours. “Alright, tell us everything. How did he propose? And how did we not know you were in love with him this whole time?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “It’s a long story …”

“Well, we’ve got time,” Katie says with a grin. “You can fill us in after class. We need details.”

As you all head inside, you glance down at the ring on your finger, the weight of it feeling more natural with every passing minute. It’s strange how quickly everything has changed, but it also feels like it’s been a long time coming. Like this was always where you were meant to end up — with Max, with the man who’s loved you from the start.

And no matter what anyone else thinks, you know in your heart that this is right. You and Max may have only made things official yesterday, but the love between you has been there all along, quietly waiting for the right moment to bloom.

Now, it’s finally your time.

***

Class lets out early today. You’re grateful for the extra time, but it’s a bit inconvenient — Max isn’t supposed to pick you up for another half hour. Standing outside the lecture hall, you scan the sea of students milling around, watching them scatter toward their cars or the nearby café.

You check your phone. No messages. It’s still too early for Max to be on his way, so you settle on waiting near the steps, trying to enjoy the sun and the slight breeze. You absentmindedly twist the engagement ring around your finger, the cool metal grounding you. The past few days have been a whirlwind, and every time you look at that ring, it still feels surreal. But it also feels like everything is finally falling into place. You belong with Max. You always have.

"Hey.”

The voice cuts through your thoughts. You glance up, blinking in surprise as you see a guy from your class approaching. You recognize him vaguely — one of those people who sits in the back, never really participating in the discussions. You’re pretty sure you’ve never spoken to him before, but now here he is, leaning against the wall near you with a smirk that makes your skin crawl.

“Hi,” you say politely, not wanting to be rude but also not particularly interested in starting a conversation.

He doesn’t take the hint. “I’ve seen you around,” he says, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “You don’t usually hang out here after class. Waiting for someone?”

Your instincts tell you to keep this short. “Yeah, my fiancé. He’s picking me up soon.”

The word fiancé doesn’t seem to deter him. In fact, it seems to spur him on. His eyes flick down to your hand, where the ring gleams in the sunlight, and then back up to your face with a cocky smirk.

“Fiancé, huh?” He steps a little closer, his voice lowering as if trying to be conspiratorial. “That sounds serious. But, I mean, you don’t really seem the settling down type. You sure you wanna tie yourself down so soon?”

You stiffen. “I’m sure,” you reply firmly, shifting your weight and turning your body slightly away from him, hoping he’ll get the message and leave you alone.

But he doesn’t. “Come on, we’ve never really talked, but I’ve seen you around. You’re smart, cool … definitely too interesting to be someone’s fiancée already.” He flashes you what he probably thinks is a charming smile. “What’s the rush?”

You swallow, trying to keep your cool. “There’s no rush. I’m happy. I’m with someone I love, and we’ve been together for a long time.” That’s not entirely true, but it’s not a lie either. It’s not something this guy needs to know, anyway.

Instead of backing off, he leans in closer, a predatory gleam in his eye. “Maybe you don’t know what you’re missing. Just saying, you and I could have some fun.”

You take a step back, feeling your pulse quicken. “I said, I’m in a relationship.”

He shrugs, as if your words are meaningless. “Doesn’t mean we can’t have a good time. What’s the harm in a little flirtation? It’s not like he’d know.”

Your patience snaps. “I’m not interested,” you say more forcefully, taking another step back. “Please leave me alone.”

The guy laughs softly, shaking his head. “Wow, playing hard to get, huh? I get it. You’re probably bored with this fiancé of yours, right? Guys like that, they don’t know how to keep things interesting.”

Before you can respond, you hear the familiar roar of an engine. Relief floods through you as you spot Max’s Valkyrie pulling up to the curb. The second the car comes to a stop, the door swings open, and Max steps out, his eyes immediately locking on you — and the guy standing too close for comfort.

Max takes in the scene in an instant. His entire demeanor changes in the blink of an eye, shifting from calm to deadly. His jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he stalks toward the two of you with purpose.

The guy is oblivious at first, too caught up in his own attempt at charm to notice the approaching storm. “Come on, sweetheart,” he’s saying, his hand moving slightly toward your arm. “Just give me a chance.”

That’s when Max arrives.

Before the guy’s hand can even brush your sleeve, Max grabs him by the shoulder and yanks him backward with enough force to make him stumble. The guy lets out a startled yelp, spinning around to face Max, his expression morphing from confusion to fear the moment he realizes who he’s dealing with.

“Hey, man, I was just-” the guy starts, but Max cuts him off with a low, menacing growl.

“She’s not interested,” Max says, his voice deadly calm. His hand is still gripping the guy’s shoulder, but it looks like he could crush him with that one hand alone. “And you’re going to walk away. Now.”

The guy’s eyes dart between you and Max, clearly weighing his options. He starts to stammer, trying to salvage his bravado. “I-I didn’t mean anything by it, man. Just talking …”

Max’s grip tightens, his knuckles turning white. “You think you can talk to her like that? Disrespect her?” He leans in, his voice dropping to a whisper that’s somehow even more terrifying. “You have no idea who you’re messing with.”

The guy’s bravado crumbles completely. His face pales, and he raises his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright! I’ll go. Jesus …”

Max releases him with a shove, sending the guy stumbling backward. He doesn’t wait around to see what happens next — he turns and practically sprints away, disappearing into the crowd of students.

For a moment, there’s silence. Max watches the guy retreat, his chest heaving with barely restrained fury. Then he turns to you, his expression softening immediately.

“You okay?” His voice is gentle now, a stark contrast to the cold fury he’d just displayed.

You nod, still a little shaken but grateful. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Max steps closer, cupping your face in his hands and scanning your expression for any sign of distress. “If he touched you — if he so much as breathed on you wrong-”

“He didn’t,” you assure him, placing your hands over his. “You got here just in time.”

Max’s eyes flicker with something dark, a protective fire that hasn’t fully extinguished. “Good,” he mutters, pulling you into his arms. He holds you tightly for a moment, as if he needs to reassure himself that you’re safe. “I don’t like anyone looking at you like that.”

You smile softly, wrapping your arms around his waist. “I don’t like it either. But it’s okay now. You’re here.”

Max pulls back just enough to look at you, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “I’m always here. And I’ll never let anything happen to you.”

You nod, leaning into his touch. “I know.”

He kisses you then, right there in front of the university, his lips capturing yours in a slow, possessive kiss that tells everyone watching exactly who you belong to. When he finally pulls away, he presses his forehead to yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“I’ll make sure no one ever bothers you again,” Max murmurs, his voice low but fierce.

You smile up at him, your heart swelling with affection. “I don’t doubt that for a second.”

With one last glance around to make sure the guy is well and truly gone, Max leads you to the car. He opens the door for you, and as you slide into the passenger seat, you can’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of security. Max is always in control, always one step ahead. And you trust him completely.

As Max pulls away from the curb, his hand finds yours, resting between the two of you. You don’t need to say anything — the silence between you is comfortable, filled with the unspoken promise that no matter what happens, you’ll face it together.

***

After dinner, the soft clatter of cutlery fades into the background as you start clearing the plates. The dim light from the chandelier casts a golden glow over the dining room, making the atmosphere feel intimate, heavy with something unspoken. Max leans back in his chair, watching you with an intensity that makes your pulse quicken.

You stack the plates, trying to focus on the mundane task, but you can feel his eyes on you, tracking every movement. Your breath hitches slightly as you turn toward him, plates in hand, and smile nervously.

"Do you want dessert?” You ask, your voice light, though your heartbeat pounds in your ears.

Max’s gaze darkens, his lips curling into a slow, wicked smile that sends shivers down your spine. “The only dessert I want,” he says, voice low and gravelly, “is right in front of me.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks as his meaning sinks in. You freeze, suddenly hyper-aware of how close he is, the way his eyes travel down your body like he’s already undressing you in his mind. Your hands tremble as you put the plates back down on the table, your thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind.

He doesn’t move from his seat, but there’s a tension in the air, pulling you toward him as if he’s some magnetic force you can’t resist. “Come here,” he says softly, but it’s not a request. It’s a command.

You hesitate for a second, unsure if you can even make your legs move, but then your feet carry you around the table, closer to him. By the time you’re standing in front of Max, your knees feel weak. His eyes stay locked on yours, full of heat and possession.

When you’re within reach, Max takes your hand, pulling you gently toward him. You end up standing between his legs, feeling the heat of his body seep through his clothes, and all at once, your breath catches. His hand slides up the back of your thigh, slow and deliberate, sending a thrill of anticipation shooting through you.

Max’s other hand rests on your waist, tugging you closer until you’re pressed against him. “You know,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your stomach through your dress, “I’ve been patient with you. So, so patient.”

Your hands find his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his shirt to steady yourself. “Max …”

He looks up at you, his eyes half-lidded but full of that same intensity. "Tell me something,” he says, his tone suddenly shifting, darker, more dangerous. “Has anyone else ever touched you?”

You blink, taken aback by the question. You feel your face heat up again, your pulse racing as his words sink in. “What?” You stammer, barely able to string two words together under the weight of his gaze.

Max’s hand tightens slightly on your thigh, his thumb tracing small circles that send jolts of electricity through you. “I asked,” he says softly but firmly, “if another man has ever touched you.”

The meaning of his question slams into you, and your throat goes dry. Your heart feels like it’s going to beat right out of your chest. You try to find your voice, but it comes out barely above a whisper. “No … no one.”

A satisfied smile spreads across Max’s face as he tugs you even closer, his hands sliding up your waist. His voice is a low, rumbling growl. “Good. Because if they had, I would’ve tracked down every single one of them.” He pauses, eyes gleaming with dark intent. “And made sure they didn’t have hands to touch anyone with again.”

Your breath catches at the promise in his voice, a possessive edge that sends a delicious shiver down your spine. You know Max means every word. There’s no doubt in your mind that if anyone had dared to cross that line, he would’ve hunted them down, one by one. His protection is absolute, as is his desire.

You shake your head, barely able to focus on anything but the way his hands feel on your skin, the way his words wrap around you like a cocoon. “No one’s ever touched me like that,” you whisper again, more firmly this time. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Max’s eyes darken further, his grip tightening on your hips. He pulls you down until you’re sitting on his lap, straddling him, your dress bunching up around your thighs. His hands settle on your waist, holding you in place. “That’s right,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your neck. “Because you’re mine.”

The words send a thrill straight through you, and you can feel the heat pooling low in your belly. Your body reacts to his touch, to the way his hands move with deliberate slowness, like he’s savoring every second. His lips trail up your throat, pressing kisses that make your head spin.

You close your eyes, your breathing ragged as you let yourself sink into the moment, into him. Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, and he groans softly in response, his grip on you tightening.

“Max …” you whisper, barely able to form coherent thoughts with the way he’s touching you, the way he’s making you feel.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes blazing with desire and something deeper — something that makes your heart pound harder in your chest. “You’re mine,” he says again, his voice low and commanding. “And no one else will ever touch you. No one else will ever have you.”

You nod, breathless, and he smirks, his thumb brushing over your lower lip.

Before you can react, Max leans in and captures your mouth in a searing kiss, his hands roaming over your body as if he can’t get enough. The kiss is heated, intense, filled with all the pent-up emotion that’s been building between the two of you since that first moment you laid eyes on each other.

His hands slide down your back, pulling you impossibly closer as his mouth moves against yours with urgency. Every nerve in your body feels like it’s on fire, and you can’t help but respond to him, your hands gripping his shirt tightly as if you’re afraid to let go.

The world outside fades away. There’s only Max — his touch, his kiss, his possessiveness, and the way he makes you feel like you’re the center of his universe.

He pulls back, breathless but grinning like he’s won a prize, “No one will ever doubt that again.”

Max���s lips hover over yours, his breath warm and steady, igniting something deep within. He shifts you slightly in his lap, adjusting his hold, and then, with deliberate slowness, his mouth trails down, leaving a scorching path along your jawline and down your neck. His movements are unhurried, savoring every inch of skin like he has all the time in the world.

You can feel your pulse pounding under his lips as he kisses lower, the anticipation building with every second. Max pauses, his mouth just inches from the neckline of your dress, his hands firm on your waist. His eyes flick up to meet yours, a dark, hungry glint in them.

“Mine,” he murmurs softly, the single word vibrating against your skin. Then, without warning, his teeth graze lightly over the delicate fabric of your dress, right where your hardened nipple is pressing through. The sensation is startling, electric — enough to make you gasp and arch involuntarily.

A low, approving sound rumbles from Max’s chest as he lightly takes the hardened bud between his teeth, through the fabric, teasing and testing. His gaze stays locked on yours, watching every reaction, every twitch of your body. He’s not just touching you — he’s learning you, reading you, knowing exactly what makes you shiver and tremble beneath his hands.

You bite your lip, a soft moan slipping out despite your best efforts to hold it back. Your fingers clutch the back of his neck, tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. Max hums in satisfaction, his tongue flicking out briefly to wet the fabric, making it cling to your skin. The sensation is maddening, a mix of pain and pleasure that leaves you breathless.

“Tell me,” he murmurs against you, his voice rough and low, “how long have you wanted this?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, his mouth closing over your covered nipple once more, applying just enough pressure to make your breath hitch. “Tell me how long you’ve been dreaming of me doing this to you, touching you like this.”

You swallow hard, trying to think past the haze of desire clouding your thoughts. “Max, I-” Words are impossible when he’s touching you like this, when his lips are doing things to your body that make your thoughts scatter in every direction.

He growls softly, releasing your nipple with a final, gentle tug of his teeth that makes your whole body jolt. “Answer me,” he demands, his hands slipping under your dress, pushing it higher until the cool air of the room brushes against your bare thighs. “How long?”

The urgency in his voice, the possessiveness — it’s overwhelming. Your breathing comes in shallow pants as you try to form a coherent thought, try to answer him. “Since … since the first day we met,” you finally manage to whisper, your voice trembling with need.

Max’s hands pause on your thighs, his grip tightening. His eyes blaze with something fierce, something primal. “The first day?” He repeats, his voice a low, dangerous whisper, as if he’s savoring the admission. “You mean to tell me you’ve wanted me like this-” his hands slide up, pushing the hem of your dress higher, exposing more of your skin “-for years?”

You nod, helpless under his gaze, under his touch. “Yes … always …”

A dark, satisfied smile curls his lips. “And I’ve waited,” he murmurs, almost to himself, his fingers tracing the curve of your inner thigh, “all this time. Waiting for the right moment to make you mine. To claim you.” He leans in, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, “No more waiting.”

You shiver at the intensity of his words, the promise in them. There’s no hesitation, no uncertainty — only the overwhelming certainty that he’s going to take you, claim you, in every way he’s ever dreamed.

Max’s hand slides higher, skimming the edge of your underwear. His touch is featherlight, teasing, and you can’t help the way your hips tilt toward him, seeking more. He lets out a low chuckle, his fingers dancing along the lace edge but never quite dipping beneath it.

“You’re so sensitive,” he murmurs, almost as if he’s talking to himself. “So perfect.” His thumb presses down lightly, just enough to make you gasp. “All mine.”

You bite your lip, your hands gripping his shoulders for support. “Max, please-”

He pulls back, just enough to look at you, his expression serious, almost reverent. “No one else gets to touch you like this,” he says, his voice firm and steady, as if making a vow. “No one else ever will.”

You nod, your breath coming in shallow gasps. “No one else, Max. Only you.”

His eyes darken further, and then he’s moving, shifting your position on his lap until you’re leaning back against the table, his body hovering over yours. He leans down, capturing your mouth in a kiss that’s fierce, almost punishing, as if he’s pouring all the years of pent-up desire and frustration into that one kiss.

His hands move with a single-minded determination, sliding your dress up and over your hips, exposing the thin scrap of lace beneath. Max pauses, his eyes drinking in the sight of you, laid out before him like some offering, and something feral flashes in his gaze.

“Beautiful,” he breathes, his hand sliding up your thigh, fingers brushing against the lace. “All mine.”

You whimper softly, your body arching toward his touch, and he growls softly in response, his fingers pressing more firmly against you.

“And no one else has ever touched here,” he says softly, almost like a question, his fingers teasing along the edge of your underwear.

You shake your head frantically, your eyes locked on his. “No, Max. Only you.”

The satisfaction in his expression is almost palpable, his chest heaving with barely restrained control. “Good,” he murmurs, his hand slipping under the lace, fingers finding your slick heat. He groans softly, his head dropping to your shoulder. “So wet for me. Just for me.”

You moan softly, your hands tangling in his hair as his fingers slide deeper, finding that sensitive spot that makes your whole body shudder. He watches you, his eyes never leaving your face, as if memorizing every reaction, every gasp, every moan.

Max stills, and he pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you. His chest heaves with every labored breath, and his pupils are blown wide with desire. But underneath all that raw hunger, there’s something deeper, something softer. A question. A pause.

“Are you sure?” He whispers, his voice rough and low, almost strained. His fingers brush lightly over your cheek, a gentle contrast to the way his body is pressed against yours. “Tell me now if you want me to stop.”

You meet his gaze, seeing the war within him — the need to take what’s his battling against the desire to protect you, to make sure this is what you want too. The vulnerability in his eyes, the way his thumb caresses your cheek, makes your heart ache in the best possible way.

“I want this,” you whisper, your voice steady despite the trembling of your body. “I want you.”

Something shifts in his gaze — any lingering uncertainty melts away, replaced by pure, unadulterated determination. He swallows hard, his jaw clenching. “I need you to understand,” he says softly, his voice almost guttural, “that once I have you — once I’m inside you — there’s no going back. You’re mine, and I’m never letting you go.”

Your breath catches, your heart beating wildly at the weight of his words. “I know,” you murmur, your hands sliding down his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath. “I want to be yours, Max. Forever.”

That’s all it takes.

Max’s mouth crashes against yours, the kiss bruising and desperate, as if he’s trying to pour every ounce of his need, his love, into it. His hands move quickly, tugging the lace of your underwear down your legs and tossing it aside. Then, he’s standing, pulling you up with him.

With a single motion, he sweeps the table clear, dishes and glasses clattering to the floor, forgotten. He lifts you effortlessly, setting you down on the table, your legs spread wide around him. The cool surface of the wood contrasts sharply with the heat of your skin, sending a shiver up your spine.

“Look at me,” Max commands, his voice low and husky. His hands cup your face, holding you still as his eyes bore into yours. “I need to see your eyes when I make you mine.”

Your breath hitches as he steps between your legs, his hand sliding down to grasp his length. He’s hard and heavy in his palm, the sight of him — so big, so ready — making your heart race even faster. He strokes himself slowly, his gaze never leaving yours, and your body clenches with anticipation.

“Max,” you breathe, your hands reaching out to clutch his shoulders. “Please …”

He lets out a low growl, his hands gripping your hips, holding you steady. The broad head of his cock brushes against your entrance, and you can’t help the way your body arches toward him, seeking more.

“Easy,” he murmurs, his voice a strained whisper. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

You shake your head, your nails digging into his skin. “You won’t. I want-”

The words die on your lips as he begins to push inside, the stretch of him almost unbearable. Your breath catches, and Max’s grip tightens, his jaw clenched so hard it looks like it might crack.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groans, his head dropping to your shoulder. He’s barely inside, just the tip, but it feels like too much and not enough all at once. “Tell me if I’m hurting you, liefje.”

You bite your lip, shaking your head. “No … no, it’s — it’s so good. Keep going, Max, please-”

He exhales sharply, his breath hot against your neck, and then he’s pushing in further, inch by inch, until he’s seated deep inside you. The fullness is overwhelming, the sensation of him stretching you, filling you, sending sparks of pleasure and pain shooting through your body.

You can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything but cling to him as he stills, giving you time to adjust. His hands are trembling against your skin, and you realize with a start that he’s holding himself back, fighting to keep control.

“You’re perfect,” he whispers, his voice tight with strain. “So fucking perfect. And you’re mine, do you understand? No one else will ever have you like this.”

You nod frantically, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Yes, Max. I’m yours — only yours.”

His eyes blaze with something dark and fierce, and then he’s moving, his hips pulling back before thrusting forward again, burying himself deep inside you. The movement is slow, measured, but you can feel the barely restrained power behind it, the way his body is trembling with the effort to go slow.

“Fuck, schatje,” he groans, his head dropping to your shoulder. “You’re so tight, squeezing me like that. Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?”

You gasp softly, your hands clutching at his shoulders, your body trembling with every thrust. “Max … please … I-”

He growls softly, his pace quickening, his grip on your hips tightening. “What do you need?” He murmurs, his voice a low, rough whisper. “Tell me what you need.”

“More,” you breathe, your body arching into his, seeking more of the pleasure only he can give you. “I need … more …”

Max’s breath catches, and then he’s moving faster, his hips driving into you with a force that sends shockwaves of pleasure through your entire body. The table creaks beneath you, but you barely register it, too lost in the feeling of him inside you, filling you completely.

“Is this what you wanted?” He growls, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your neck. “To have me fuck you like this, to take you hard and deep?”

You can’t form words, can only moan and nod, your body trembling with every thrust. Max’s hands slide up your back, holding you closer, his pace relentless.

“God, you feel so good,” he groans, his voice thick with pleasure. “So fucking good. I want to keep you like this forever, keep you under me twenty-four-seven. Fuck, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to let you go.”

His words send a fresh wave of pleasure crashing over you, your body tightening around him. “Max-”

He’s panting now, his movements becoming erratic, his control slipping. “I hope you know,” he murmurs, his voice rough and desperate, “that I’m never letting you go now. You’re mine — forever.”

You can’t do anything but cling to him as he takes you, his body driving into yours with a force that leaves you breathless. The pleasure builds and builds, coiling tighter and tighter until —

“Max!” You cry out, your body convulsing around him as the orgasm rips through you, shattering you into a thousand pieces.

Max groans, his hips slamming into yours one final time before he stills, his body shuddering with his release. His head drops to your shoulder, his breath hot and heavy against your skin.

For a long moment, the only sound in the room is the harsh panting of your breaths, the steady thud of your racing hearts. Max’s hands are still trembling as they slide up to cup your face, his lips brushing softly against yours.

“I love you,” he murmurs, his voice rough and raw. “I love you so much, schatje.”

You smile softly, your hands tangling in his hair. “I love you too, Max. Forever.”

And as he kisses you, slow and tender, you know that forever with Max is exactly what you want.

[philosians]

little things | sylus.

✧. Sylus making your favorite drink and breakfast before he heads to bed, because you’re waking up and getting ready to head to work. Whether it be coffee or tea or matcha, he’ll make it. He does this regardless of how tired he is, especially after a business deal (or one gone wrong), because that routine he craves is also a reminder that you’re in his life and he gets to do domestic things like this when he comes home.

✧. Sylus who dries your hair after you shower because you’re too tired to. If you’re tired from work, he’ll take the towel and dry it before grabbing the hairdryer. Sometimes it’s a longer process than others, sometimes it’s not. What’s consistent with it though is that every time you end up falling asleep on him while he’s doing it.

✧. Sylus, who usually asks for his chef to do things, gradually transitions to using his kitchen himself because he finds enjoyment in cooking. More importantly—cooking with you. He finds himself indulging in cooking and baking, too. He finds himself filling with a bit of pride whenever you sink your teeth into one of the cupcakes he’s made and watches your eyes roll back in bliss from the sweet treat. And he can’t help but laugh under his breath at the icing all over your face once after you shoved the whole cupcake in your mouth when you thought he wasn’t looking.

✧. Sylus who ends up carrying your groceries into your apartment every LI does this prove me wrong with one hand and not breaking a sweat whenever he comes over and catches you post-shop. It pisses you off because it takes you at least two trips and a victory-dessert afterward. He shrugs it off like it’s nothing, but when he sees you scoff about it, he can’t help his amusement.

“Sorry, kitten. I’ll try a little harder next time.”

“Don’t. That’ll make me more mad.”

He raises his brows, chuckling. “If you say so.”

✧. Sylus is the one that takes you shopping for the first time with his card because you told him you had no idea where to even start with his black card aside from your favorite food stores. His eyes soften as you hide your embarrassment from him. But when he gently grabs your chin and tells you he’d be more than happy to help you make a dent in his bank account, he finds his own heart filling at the sight of your excitement.

✧. When you’re sick, Sylus drops all his business deals for the next week, potentially two depending on how your immune system works against your sickness. He’s in your apartment at the kitchen making food and making sure you’re taking medicine. He’s helping you through the worst of it with a warm cloth on your forehead; using his muscle to gently lift you up on the bed enough to help you eat some soups and drink hot liquid to soothe your throat and incessant coughing so your eyes aren’t watering from the soreness.

Sylus, who frowns in the other room every time he hears your deep and sickly coughs that you find embarrassing waking you from your needed sleep, ends up mentally praying to whatever deity that’s watching over you to make you better faster. Because he hates it when you’re sick; he can do nothing but watch as you teeter between health and illness, and he hates it.

When you’re better, he sees your teasing smile as you joke about how much he cares about you and him taking care of you over the last several days.

But it’s you who’s caught off-guard by him as he places a chaste kiss atop your head and says in the softest voice you’ve heard.

“Now why wouldn’t I take care of my most prized treasure?”

a/n: dusting off my ol’ writing chops hehe! I might do some with the other boys as well. feel free to send in ideas to my inbox! all LIs are welcome!

[prettieinpink]

2024 WRAPPED⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

₊˚⊹♡TOP LESSONS LEARNT 

Missing out gives you progress on your goals. So many times this year, I didn’t do things that I usually would’ve loved to do to make and maintain progress on my

goals. Simple things like cancelling plans, buying certain things and any other short-term pleasures. Allowing myself to overcome FOMO, and in return, I saw great progress in my goals. 

People hating you has nothing to do with you. I dislike a lot of things because it's my personal preference. Someone who decides to hate you is a matter of their preference. However, if they choose to show that hatred to you, it's a matter of projection. People will project onto you as a way to cope with their own life, cause they can’t deal with their own. 

Stop letting everything control you. Truly, you’re held back from nothing in life. Your circumstances, identity, environment and more can only hold you back so far. At one point, you’ve gotta start acting and stop blaming everything around you on why you can’t. This one… is still in progress for me. I do feel like my parents are a major factor in me being held back, but deeper down, I also feel that it's an excuse to not work up to my potential. 

Trying to fit in is fruitless. I wear and listen to what I want. I decide what kind of content I want to consume, and what food I want to eat. This generation is notorious for tearing down anyone who doesn’t fit in a cookie cutter. Allowing your authenticity to shine through, will guide those who are meant for you, to you!

All problems are temporary. This one does not apply to everything, but it applies to a lot of things. Your issues will not last forever, so don’t let it leave a permanent mark on you. Don’t let your situation deter you from your goals.

₊˚⊹♡ACHIEVEMENTS 

It's small, but I feel like I’ve created my room to be fully intentional for me. While it still can be improved, my room is much better in terms of clutter and decor compared to 2023. 

Consistent practicing soft social skills like keeping up small chats, giving compliments and handling disagreements gracefully. I ended the year with all B’s! Last semester was a bit of a flunk for me, but I managed to pull it up for the end of the year. 

Saved like 500$ for purchasing things off my wishlist. 

Read like 12ish books for 2024. Would’ve loved to read more, but I was in a reading slump and also didn’t have enough time to go out to my local library to borrow any books. 

₊˚⊹♡HABITS / RITUALS 

In bed by 9 pm, up by 6 am. Sleeping early has made me feel a lot more energised in the mornings, and I find that it's easier to get out of bed and continue with my routine. The later I slept will more I felt sluggish for the next day + waking up earlier hay motivated me to stay on top of my routines. 

Daily walks after school. It gets my steps in, but it's a nice way to debrief after school and regather myself before heading straight into studying. I sometimes do walk home, and it's great to plug in my earphones and just not think. 

Journaling. I preach it for a reason, as journaling helps plenty. It can help you to shift your mindset beliefs, identify self-sabotaging behaviours, allow us to truly reflect on who we are and see progress each day in our lives. 

Lighting candles more frequently. It's such a little habit, but it brings me so much joy. Usually, they’re just collecting dust as decor however when I started to use them, I loved the whole experience. The smell and the small warmth that it brings are just perfect for the ambience. 

Curating my social media. I have an absolute maximum of 5 hours per day, but I still want those 5 hours to count for something. I’ve redownloaded TikTok earlier this year, and I think it’s a great platform for looking for advice and inspiration. Creating a feed that works for you instead of the other way around, will definitely change how it influences you. 

Having alone time in the morning and at night. I need this time to myself to slow myself down and regather my thoughts and it's just what I look forward to, to get through the day. I usually do whatever I like in this time slot, on the condition that I am completely by myself, free from any tasks or distractions. 

Cleaning regularly. When I did a deep clean last year, it would just be vacuuming my room and wiping down all visible surfaces. That is good, but there’s a lot more to clean than you realise. One major thing that we forget to clean (yet is probably the dirtiest) is our devices. Wipe down all screens every single day!

₊˚⊹♡BEAUTY / FASHION TIPS

Turn down the toilet seat when you flush. The amount of times I’ve been in public toilets and flushed with the lid up is outrageous, and I just can’t believe that last year I didn’t even consider the bacteria that would fly up on my clothes or even my face. Not a major skincare tip, however, er I think this would affect it. 

Know your undertone. I would only use undertones to know what kind of jewellery fits me, but it goes way beyond that. Before I start, I would like to say, don’t buy any more clothes or makeup just because they don’t fit your undertone. If you like your confidence will override any undertone clash. I used to walk around with really yellow makeup, and the difference when I got a foundation that had more of a golden undertone was like day and night. The same applies to your clothes. Warmer clothes will complement me, becausI’m’m warm-toned. So, I tend to stay away from cooler tones. I don’t use colour seasons, Is anyone wondering? 

Stick to a palette that you like. Last year, I wasted so much money trying to experiment with new colours in my clothes and makeup, just to end up hating it. It’s also a bad consumerist habit, to buy things for your fantasy self. So today, I only buy clothes it's the colours I like and I only purchase makeup if its shades fit me. I’m not saying buy anything new, but keep it to a minimum to reduce waste and save your money for the things that you like. 

Avoid fashion inspiration with faces. Highly attractive people can pull off anything, quite literally. Their face can influence subconsciously them ly to love the outfit, even if the outfit is ‘bad’. So, when saving pictures from Pinterest, TikTok or magazines, avoid any outfits that show their face. I said avoid it as sometimes you just really like an outfit and you know it's nothing to do with their face, which is okay. 

₊˚⊹♡YOUTUBERS

JIlLZ GUERIN - Focuses on feminine energy, lifestyle and intellectual habits. I recommend her as many of her videos are new and fresh perspectives.

SANDY DIANA BANG - Mostly productive vlogs that inspire and motivate, with a sprinkle of wellness, health and beauty content. Her channel and vibes are so aesthetic too! 

ROSIE GRAHAM & LIDIA MERA - Both are fitness influencers that focus on pilates. Their workouts are so good that they always leave me sweating and strained (which is good!! lmao). If one of your goals for 2025 was to start working out, I would use their videos. 

THANK YOU BUBU - Another fitness channel that is one of my time faves, and they have a variety of exercises that target abs, glutes, legs and arms. Another channel I would recommend if I was starting to exercise again. 

MINA LE - She does research and creates video essays on various topics, which many videos I feel are relevant in current times. She’s great if you want to expand and explore new perspectives. 

HALIEY GAMBA - She’s for a more matured audience, but she’s such a hidden gem. All of her advice ly new things, not just the same things that have been rinsed and repeated. 

KELLY GOOCH - She’s a beauYouTuberber who mainly discusses the beauty industry and its products while recommending some. She’s one of the only beauty influencers who I will listen to, as I feel like her opinions aren’t constantly swayed by sponsorships or promotions. Even then I would still take any beauty opinions and advice with two cents.

ELLE CHU - A smaller, but underrated beauty influencer. She discusses a lot of beauty products whether they’re worth it, overhyped or overpriced. She does sometimes talk about the beauty industry, but those videos are infrequent. 

₊˚⊹♡BOOKS 

(I have read all of them libby- a reading app).

NJUTA by NIKI BRANTMARK. All about the Swedish art of enjoying the present. If you feel like you have a simple and unexciting life, I recommend you read this.

SPARK JOY by Marie Kondo. A popular decluttering book that uses the KonMari method that emphasises items that you want to keep, instead of focusing on what you want to get rid of.

THE HEALTHY MIND TOOLKIT by Dr Alice Boyes. This is the ultimate guide of mindset shifts to target self-sabotaging or destructive beliefs and gives strategies to overcome them.

MINDFULLNESS ON THE GO by Jan Chozen Bays. A collection of little mindfulness practices you can do almost anywhere, almost anytime. 

MY WISHES FOR 2025

To join any club at this point. It's hard for me to do anything outside of the house with my parents' schedules, and I do feel like it has eaten at my social life and the experiences, lessons etc I would gain. At first, I originally wanted to join so it's something I could put on my university application, however, I’m entering year 10 with absolutely no extracurriculars since year 7. (for anyone not down under, I'm talking about high school grades.) 

Expanding my social circle. I feel like I don’t have a secondary community outside of school, and it's definitely what can amplify my slumps or depression without having that one person I can talk to freely, without the worry of school. I feel like I’m making no sense here. 

Moving anywhere. I want to move schools, cities, countries, or whatever. Being in the same school since year 2 (elementary) has taken a toll on me. 

A million dollars. Very unrealistic, but I still want it! I feel like money is the only thing that can actively change my life at this point. 

thats it for this post! I encourage anyone else to do their own wrapped and tag me!

[bunni-v1]

Hnnghh christmas Lighter smut where reader is dressed in nothing but a long ribbon and bow bc he’s been a good boy this year

🍓Did u read my mind? Get outta there… jkjk, but seriously this is EXACLTY what I was thinking about. I really can’t dedicate the time to a full fic, which breaks my little gay heart, but imagine with me if you would… (this is a full fic btw i fucking lied to you and myself)

Tw: Nsfw; kinda rough (not too rough); UNEDITED ITS HORRENDOUS

Mdni

Christmas with the Sons of Calydon is pretty atypical. They have their own traditions that most New Eirduians would scoff at, but they’re rather important to those who live in these parts. Drinking, singing together (usually drunkenly and offkey), taking bike rides out to start a fire and literally burn away past regrets of the year, and of course fights — plenty of fights.

You weren’t exactly a fan of the fighting part, usually meant more work for you to do, but Lighter always seemed to have fun. Obviously he did, he never lost — he hardly broke a sweat for the most part. And he loved showing off, especially if you were there to watch him. Everything else was mostly normal, though… a little odd but custom made to your little ragtag group, and you loved it.

It felt warm, cozy, like family. They passed out gifts, most of them hand made or incredibly thoughtful since money was scarce for most of you. Lighter had gotten you a (rather expensive) bracelet with your and his initials engraved on it. It was sweet, and unexpected from the guy who pretended like the holiday was nothing for the months leading up to it.

It made you melt on the inside and feel nice and warm. However… his nonchalance about the holiday cause you one… teeny tiny, itty bitty problem. You had no clue what to get him, and you hadn’t gotten him anything — time had run out and no one would give you any good hints.

His insistence that you didn’t need to get him anything in return made your stomach ache. It was hard to focus on his fight when your head was rushing with ways to rectify the horrific mistake you’d made quickly. The red ribbon of the jewelry box wrapped around your fingers tightly, then unwound as you mulled over your options.

You could get him something for his bike, but you’d have to drive to the city and it’s unlikely he’d let you go without him — that’s if the stores were even open this late on a holiday. Maybe you could craft up something quick and easy, if you could get back to your place there surely would be something, but… that felt cheap. Especially compared to the bracelet.

“That ribbon’s pretty,” Caesar says next to you, drawing you from your thoughts, “Must’ve been one real fancy place he went to for ya.”

You sigh, leaning back against the wall a little, looking at the ribbon as you twisted it around, “I’m sure it was. He’s so hopeless sometimes.”

“Only because you’re so sweet on him,” She teases, nudging your shoulder lightly.

A laugh huffs out of your chest, then an idea strikes you. The ribbon is pretty. You actually had some like it back at your place, stored away from last years festivities. You twist the ribbon one last time, and then you grin, wide and wild. Lighter catches your eye as he socks his opponent in the jaw, smirking at you like he’d won a prize.

“Hey, Caesar,” You hum, turning to your friend who seemed a little uneasy at your expression, “How long do you think you can keep him distracted for me.”

She hums, watching him thoughtfully, “I’ll buy ya fifteen minutes — wait, why?”

“You’ll hear later~” You hum with a wink, and practically skip back to your place, leaving Caesar alone to deal with your very adrenaline filled boyfriend on her own.

It takes you half the time Caesar said she could get you to find the damn ribbon, and the other half is spent fighting for your life to get the thing on and look at least a little sexy. You tried to recall old articles you’d read on bondage and shibari, but it was hard to do without a guide. You’d managed to get all the good bits wrapped up and hidden, with a few extra crosses to make it look pretty.

You don’t get a chance to check because you hear Lighters heavy footsteps outside the door nearly as soon as you’ve tied the bow comfortably around your neck. Your able to sort’ve arrange yourself seductively on the bed for him just as the front door open and he calls out to you. You could tell he was annoyed from his voice alone. He never liked it when you left his shows early.

“Caesar told me you headed back here,” He called, boots thumping as he threw them off, “We’re you not enjoying the show?”

It’s a tease, you know it is, but there was an underlying annoyance in his voice that sent a tingle up your spine. He pushes the bedroom door open incredibly slowly, to the point you think he’s trying to surprise you with something. You have the gall to feel stupid for a moment right before his eyes land on you, and he stops at he takes in the sight.

There is an audible shudder as his eyebrows raise nearly to his hairline. He takes his sunglasses off, revealing those pretty green eyes that rake in every inch of you with hunger. Then, he smirks, shoving the bedroom door closed with his shoulder already working his gloves and jacket off to the floor. Forgotten without a second thought. The rest of his clothes follow quickly after.

“Merry Christmas!” You cheer, though you’re more nervous than happy. He clearly likes it, according to the quickly growing tent in his pants and how fast he is to strip himself, but he’s a little too quiet for your liking.

He sinks onto the mattress in front of you, hands ghosting around the bright red ribbon. Like if he touches it, it’ll all fall apart in his grasp. He traces each inch of it with careful practiced restraint, following the fabrics flow across your body until he remembers that you are under the fabric and he lands on your face.

His eyes soften when you smile nervously up at him, fingers tracing the apple of your cheek with such admiration it nearly makes you cry. “You like it?” You ask softly, unsure of yourself.

He scoffs like you’re stupid for wondering, “This might be the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

It draws a genuine laugh out of you, which he follows with his own as he comes down to nuzzle your cheek with his nose. Then a soft kiss that trails down to your lips, easing you into a slow careful dance of love and passion.

He readjusts your position so carefully, you almost don’t notice he’s doing it until he’s between your legs. Pressing them open then pressing his dick to the ribbons wrapping up your folds from him. You’re already dripping, the adrenaline from earlier enough to get you going, but the added friction just makes it worse. You’d never be able to reuse this stuff, that’s for sure.

His hands glide over your stomach, following the ribbon with lazy easy until he’s found the one covering you from him. His thumbs slide under the pieces, rubbing over the flesh of your abdomen gently. It’s then that he pulls away, a string of saliva keeping you connected as he presses his forehead to yours.

“You’re so perfect, you know that?” He murmurs quietly, “You could’ve given me a smile and I would’ve been happy.”

You shy away, “Well… I almost didn’t have anything to get you, but your gift, mmm, inspired me.”

He chuckles at you, reaching down to run his dick against your still covered folds. The silky fabric oddly making everything feel more intense. “I can see that. Very cute, by the way.”

“I know, thank you,” You hum, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he presses the two of you back into a laying position, “Now are you gonna unwrap your present, or are you gonna keep teasing yourself.”

A roll of the eyes and another smirk, “Y’know, I’ve never been a fan of ruining the wrapping paper. Shits expensive… so how about we go nice and slow.”

As he says that, he slides his dick between the ribbon, right up against your throbbing clit. You let out a surprised sound, quickly melting into sighs of pleasure and he fucks into the ribbon. Each push and pull stimulates your aching pussy into gushing out more for him, clenching on nothing as he fucks himself against you at a leisurely pace.

You take the chance to look down, moaning out as he head of him touches your thigh. The sight is something you’d see in a porno. Lighter follows your eyes, smiling to himself when he catches you practically going cross eyed at the sight.

“We look good together, don’t we, sugar?” He purrs. A rare nickname, sweet and extra praiseworthy — just like he thinks you are.

You nod along with him, fluttering your eyes back to his with a dumb little smile. Each drag of his dick makes your toes curl and nails dig into his broad shoulders. He sighs at the sensation, pressing kisses into your skin to quiet himself up. He’d rather listen to you, after all, and this was a gift for him.

His fingers begin to crawl up your body, dancing along the ribbon excitedly. They make sure to stop and tweak your nipples through the fabric, humming when he feels they’re sufficiently hard and sensitive under his touch. Then, finally, they reach the neatly tied bow around your neck.

The tug at it, gently unwrapping it from your neck and pulling it away with ease. Replacing the red of it with his tongue, licking and sucking new marks into the flesh. Your hips stutter against his, and he lets out a groan, squeezing your tit as warning. You whine, but don’t fight him anymore. His hands returning to unraveling the ribbon, pressing into the skin revealed until he is the only thing keeping the ribbon and his dick pressed against you.

You pout a little when he pulls away, pussy aching for friction once his dick is gone. You feel it clench as it looks for him, and god it makes you feel like a whore. He takes your hands from his shoulder and leans over you to tie them to the bed board above your head. You can feel how wet your were at the wrists, especially when he kisses them reassuringly.

“I love you tied up,” He hums, “You’re so pretty when you can’t do anything.”

You pout up at him, but he doesn’t stay to admire the look long, leaning over to the bedside table to grab the condoms. It occurs to you, in a state of lust driven stupor, that he shouldn’t have to fuck his christmas gift with a condom on.

“Ah, wait—“ He raises an eyebrow at you, hand just inches away from the condoms, “Would you wanna do it raw?”

He blinks at you, again surprised in the same way he was when he first saw you. “Are you serious?”

“We don’t have to—“ You quickly try to rectify the situation, but he cuts you off.

“No, no, we definitely have to,” He shakes his head, closing the drawer with one swift motion, “You’re trying to kill me out here, aren’t you?”

You shake your head, but he’s not listening as he pulls you up into the position he likes most. Legs over his shoulders, body bent in half so he can fuck you hard and fast. He gives you a few seconds to adjust to the position, then he’s pressing his dick into you at a painfully slow pace.

It’s because he’s just so big, he always has to go slow, but you wish he’d just fuck you through the pain right now. The stretch is perfect as always, and you suck him in like it’s nothing with how wet you already were.

He cusses when he finally bottoms out, pressing his face into the side of your neck. You can feel his hot breath fan against your skin, tingling deliciously. “Fuck you’re always so tight. I’m never gonna get used to it, sugar.”

You hum, though you’re in no better shape. Shivering and shuddering every inch, and still quaking as he sits still inside you. You play with his hair to distract from how hot you are, and how you wish he’d make you hotter.

He gives himself a moment to calm down, then he presses a kiss you your cheek, readjusts you just a little so your muscles don’t tense up, and then he moves. The first three thrusts are slow and easy, then he starts to slam into you hard.

“Oh fuck—“ You cry out as the deafening smack of his hips into your ass rings out across the room.

The pace he sets is brutal and unrelenting, you were hoping for it all night. The unspent adrenaline from his earlier fights coming right back to fuck you so good you know you won’t be walking tomorrow. Each slap of his balls against your quickly reddening ass is accompanied by a stifled moan.

He watches you with an intensity you weren’t aware he was capable of, eyes drinking in every single inch of your expression. He looked crazed, but that’s what made it so hot. He was obsessed with every little look, every little sound that left you.

“Don’t be quiet, sugar,” He hums, pushing two of his fingers along your bottom row of teeth to force the sounds out.

“They’ll hear—“

“Let ‘em,” He dismisses, “They know you’re mine anyway, who cares.”

You really couldn’t argue with that, especially not when he shifts ever so slight to hit your g-spot head on. A salacious moan rips out of your throat, and your sure Caesar has figured out what you were up to earlier from that alone. He doesn’t stop ripping sounds out of you, though, continuing his brutal pace and hitting that spot so well you think you’re seeing stars.

The build up to your orgasm is so quick you hardly have time to realize it’s happening. One second you’re fine the next your throwing your head back and moaning like a whore.

“Lighter- Baby, I’m— fuck me- god I’m gonna cum, Lighter.” You admit, way too loud for your liking.

He hums, seeming to switch gears and fuck you faster somehow, “Go ahead, I’ve got you. Lemme feel you cum for me.”

You nod, chest rising and falling rapidly as start litter your vision. You think you nearly pass out, but Lighters hard thrusts fuck you through your orgasm. You squeeze him so tight, like you’re trying to milk his own out of him. You want him to fill you up, want to feel his warm cum deep in your belly. Want to see it drip down your thighs and pool onto the bed when he pulls out.

“Cum inside, please.” You beg.

“Fuuuck… ‘re you—“

You nod, “I need it, please cum in me. ‘S part of your present.”

He groans, fisting the sheets next to your head, “Suagr, you’re fuckin’ killin’ me.”

Always one to please, Lighter does exactly as you ask. Filling you to the brim with his thick hot cum. You revel in his moans, and only slightly wish you could curl your nails into his shoulders to leave another christmas gift for the morning.

He eases you into a more comfortable position before collapsing on top of you. His weight is welcome against your spent body, as are the wet kisses he presses into your sore skin. He unties your hand with one of his, and you quickly wrap them up into his hair.

“I love you,” He mumbles into your shoulder, “So much. You’re the best gift a guy can ask for.”

You giggle at the praise, “I love you too, Lighter.”

[gatorbites-imagines]

Hello gatorbite, I really liked your imagines with Mark Grayson, could you do an imagine of Mark with a Male Reader who is a vampire?

Mark Grayson x vampire king male reader

Headcanons

Cooking my own headcanons for vampires, how else are they gonna go on cute dates on the beach as the sun goes down?? Ive been listening to abracadabra by Lady Gaga for days, its been keeping me sane.

Mark and the bad bitch he pulled by being a nerd. i had a lot of fun writing this, i would love to write more about these two, or more vampire reader,,,

You guys would first have met after he became a hero, sometime during season 2. Probably before he got Oliver but after his dad left the planet and Mark wanted to fix everything and started working with Cecil.

The GDA knew of your existence of course. You were the first ever vampire, created through horrible magic and rituals against your will. This meant you couldn’t die, even from the sun or a stake or silver.

Every other vampire someone would meet would come from you in some way. Or rather, they were bitten by someone who was bitten by someone, so on and so forth until it reached you, kinda like a disease. The further out you go, the wilder and more animalistic the vampires are.

The few vampires you have bitten and turned yourself are strong and can walk in sunlight, and have other otherworldly powers, but those they bite have weaker powers, etc etc. and all other vampires but you can die. As long as life and death exist, so will you.

How you guys meet can be a mixed bag, but the most plausible is that some rabid vampires have run wild somewhere, and Mark was sent to deal with them since his skin can’t be pierced by their fangs.

The vampires he encounters are naked, human-looking creatures with warped faces, a mouth full of sharp teeth, shark bat-like features and the like. The only thing human about them is their shape.

A nest of vampires has run wild, and as the so called “vampire king”, “vampire well” or even “first vampiric ancestor”, its your duty to take care of it when it gets out of hand.

At this point Mark isn’t at his strongest, so the nest of vampire spawn gain the upper hand. Even with super strength, its hard for Mark since he also doesn’t want to kill at this point, and these technically were humans once.

So, imagine Marks shock, as he’s being overpowered by hundreds of these creatures that are more instinct than sense, when these creatures are sliced in half and turn into dust.

As the vampire king you can teleport all over the planet, you could probably even warp other planets if you focused hard enough. You might have done that once or twice, leading to vampirism spreading to different parts of the universe… but nobody has to know that…

What you wear can be up for debate, do you wear something from the time you died? Something Victorian? Or modern? I can’t imagine you are too involved with the current fashion since time passes so fast for you, so maybe it’s a bit out of fashion. You still look great though.

Maybe it’s having been beaten so hard by the now dead spawn, or maybe it’s just your vampiric influence, but Mark finds himself blushing and breathing a little harder.

The first time you meet doesn’t lead to much other than you taking care of the spawn, apologizing to Mark for causing such a mess and telling him you will take more care of your offspring. Mark just kinda goes “yeah, okay, thanks man…” before passing out.

You end up teleporting mark back to the GDA, or wherever hes being brought, like to the new guardians or whatever. Because obviously none of their protection measures can keep you out. It’s only weaker vampires that need an invitation inside.

They are all pretty damn uncomfortable when you comment about how nice Marks blood smells, because being thousands of years old also means you don’t have any shame in stating the obvious.

You say hello to Immortal before leaving. Of course, you guys know each other, both being immortal and all that. You guys play cards at least once every ten years or so, sometimes more, sometimes less.

This is also why Immortal is the most chill about you showing up, coming and going as you please, and saying Mark smells delicious. You once said he smelled delicious too when you first met, the stronger the person the better their blood and all. Now you guys are friends though, in a way.

After that you guys meet every now and then, mainly because you take his interest and Immortals friendship as an invite to come and go as you please, like a big scary housecat dressed in black.

You also follow him around (stalk him pretty much), and maybe it’s just him secretly loving steamy vampire fanfiction, or some viltrumite instinct, but being hunted is exciting.

You guys finally starting to date would also happen at some random moment when you guys are alone. You would have known about Marks attraction from the very moment you met, but your cold unbeating heart had started warming up around him too.

All his rambling about heroes and fictional stories worked like a charm. The many many questions about vampires and pop culture was cute too. He couldn’t believe that the whole weak to garlic thing started as an inside joke amongst vampires and spread out, when it wasn’t even true.

Mark was positively shocked when the whole pop culture idea that being bitten felt good turned out to be true. Later you would explain it was all about intent and reception. If you wanted it to hurt and he feared you, then it would have hurt. But because he was a little freak who was really into it, then it brought pleasure.

Mark also never thought you would be able to bite through his skin, but you could. Only because of your whole, king of the vampires, first original vampire, deal. Any other vampire wouldn’t be able to bite through vultrumite skin.

Being able to rip through vultrumites will be useful later, and not needing to breathe and being able to fly as well. But that’s for later space adventures.

When the whole thing with Oliver happens, you are of course there to support Mark, but also his family. Cecil also knows not to fuck with you, because its all thanks to you that the dead don’t rise and come for him every single day.

This may mean it doesn’t end as badly as in season 3, or, Mark just has some more support, very powerful support that the GDA knows to fear. Because how is Cecil gonna manipulate the original manipulator? The one strong enough to bewitch the entire planet if he wanted to?

You also have a better time explaining morals and powers to Oliver, since you are still stronger than him at this point, so you can put him in his place when he needs it. Being nonhuman also helps a lot, since Oliver feels his power disconnects him from humanity.

This gives Mark some more room to find himself and settle, and yeah, I feel like him and his family end up moving into wherever you stay. Be it some massive gothic castle in Romania, or a Victorian mansion at the edge of a massive cliff in England, who knows.

Both because its safer, more comfortable, and they get to feel like they don’t always have to look over their shoulder.

You don’t survive the coffin allegations though, since you sleep in a grand one, and have at least 100 different coffins you switch between. Most were gifts from your spawn, or one or two from immortal as “congrats on living another hundred” gift. You gifted him weapons or houses in return.

Mark can’t sleep in the coffins with you, since he hates how claustrophobic it makes him. But he will sleep beside the coffin. You guys keep the lid pushed to the side enough for you to stick a hand out, so you guys can hold hands.

I feel like Oliver would thrive a lot under you and your spawns, since you keep your “children” in line. Being direct descendants of you means they are powerful enough to play and roughhouse with, but also help him train.

Mark trains with you instead, and it regularly ends up with him almost giggling and kicking his feet as you pin him down, barring his neck all “oh please, vampire king, please don’t bite me”.

It takes Debbie a while to settle in, but maybe she meets one of your spawn to gets on with well, or she doesn’t at all. Maybe she just takes the time to heal and find herself when she sees her sons are happy.

You end up getting the shovel talk from her though, which all your direct descendants peek around the corner of the doorway to watch. Somehow you look meek as she points a finger at you and tell you to treat her son right and with respect.

I haven’t read very far in the comics so I cant tell you what happens after this, but Mark will have you by his side when everything goes down, and that might help change it to a more positive outcome.

It might help to have a lover who isn’t held back by his humanity and morals. You are more than willing to turn entire planets into your mindless spawn if it means keeping your dear ones safe. It does lead to a horrible argument and Mark not talking to you for a while, but he forgives you at some point.

Reading his secret fanfic does help with that, even if it means you have to dress like a man from the current era, style your hair and stalk him when he sleeps (as if you don’t already do that).

Being a super ancient and rich vampire also means you can pile gifts on Mark, Oliver and Debbie. Mostly Mark, but you don’t want his kin to be left out. So, Mark gets to live out his nerdy dreams to the extreme.

You’ll remodel a whole part of your house for him if it comes down to it. Your direct spawn will coo at you becoming soft. You let them, for now, but you’ll get your revenge, especially seeing them all tied around the Grayson’s fingers too.

You are so used to dealing with the GDA that it also isn’t hard to keep them at bay, how are they gonna invade a place that’s existed longer than democracy? You will burn the whole place down if you have too. Anything for your nerdy little hero.

[sunshineangel0]

loving you, flaws and all (hyung line)

pairing- stray kids ot8 x reader summary- Your skin has never been perfect, and sometimes, the insecurities weigh you down. But each member of Stray Kids loves you in their own way, showing you that beauty isn’t just about clear skin—it’s about who you are. Through soft moments of reassurance, warmth, and genuine love, they remind you that your acne and scars don’t define you. genre- romance, slice of life, comfort, fluff word count- 1,7k (300-500 words each) warnings- mentions of acne, insecurities, self doubt, protective and affectionate stray kids members, pure wholesome content 🥰 an- i was feeling insecure today because of a little flare up so i wrote this. i hope it helps whoever it may need, too. remember, you are perfect no matter how much you brain tells you on insecure days that youre not. maknae line

bang chan

You sat at your vanity mirror, frowning as you traced a fingertip over the red blemishes dotting your skin. No matter how much care you put into your routine, your acne still flared up, leaving you feeling small and frustrated.

The door creaked open, and a familiar warmth wrapped around you from behind. “Why are you looking so sad?” Bang Chan’s deep voice murmured into your ear, his arms tightening around your waist.

You sighed, staring at his reflection instead of your own. “It’s just… my skin is so bad today.”

Chan frowned, resting his chin on your shoulder. “You say that like it matters,” he said softly. He turned you around in his hold, his warm hands cupping your cheeks. “Look at me, sweetheart.”

You tried, but your gaze dropped. He didn’t let you. Gently, he lifted your chin with his fingers, his brown eyes scanning your face like he was committing it to memory. “I love every part of you,” he murmured, his thumbs grazing over your cheeks. “Your skin, your scars, all of it. None of that changes how beautiful you are.”

Tears pricked at your eyes at the sincerity in his voice. He always knew what to say, always made you feel loved in ways words alone couldn’t.

Chan suddenly tilted his head, a teasing glint in his eyes. “You know, if we’re talking about bad features, my nose isn’t exactly winning any beauty contests either.”

You gasped, swatting his arm. “Christopher Bang, don’t you dare insult my favorite nose!”

He laughed, crinkling said ‘bad’ nose as he grinned at you. “See? That’s what I’m saying. You love my nose, and I love your skin. We don’t get to insult the things we love.”

You huffed, but the fight had already left you. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it,” he said smugly, pressing a kiss to your cheek, then another along your jaw. “Now, how about we do some face masks? Not because you need them, but because I need an excuse to pamper you.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Only if you wear a head band.”

Chan chuckled, already reaching for them. “Deal.”

lee know

“Stop touching your face,” Minho’s voice cut through the silence, sharp but not unkind. You barely had time to pull your hand away before his cat-like eyes flicked up from his book, catching you mid-scratch.

You groaned, flopping down onto the couch beside him. “I can’t help it. It itches.”

Minho let out a small sigh, dog-earing the page of his book before setting it aside. “And you’re going to make it worse,” he said matter-of-factly. Then, softer, “Come here.”

You hesitated, but curiosity won out. Scooting closer, you watched as he reached up, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered, barely grazing your cheek.

“I notice you do this when you’re anxious,” he murmured, studying your face like a puzzle he had already solved. “And when you’re frustrated.”

Your cheeks warmed. “You… notice that?”

Minho scoffed, giving you a pointed look. “I notice everything about you.”

Your stomach flipped, but before you could react, he reached for a bottle of moisturizer sitting on the coffee table. Unscrewing the cap, he squeezed a bit onto his fingertips before looking at you expectantly. “Let me.”

You blinked. “You’re seriously going to—”

“Do you want dry skin or not?” he interrupted, arching a brow.

You sighed, relenting as he gently smoothed the cool cream over your cheeks, his touch light, careful. He worked in silence, fingers tracing over each blemish and scar without a hint of hesitation or discomfort. It wasn’t rushed or forced—it was Minho in his quiet way, paying attention, showing care without making a big deal out of it.

“There,” he said after a moment, satisfied. “Now you don’t have to touch it.”

You swallowed, your heart hammering unexpectedly. He was already reaching for his book again, like he hadn’t just made you completely unravel with a simple gesture.

“Minho…” you whispered.

He glanced at you, smirking just a little. “Yeah?”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. You shook your head instead, exhaling softly. “Nothing. Just… thank you.”

Minho hummed, nudging your knee with his before flipping a page. “Anytime. Just don’t make me do this every day. I charge for my services.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “Oh yeah? And what’s your rate?”

Minho smirked, finally looking up from his book. “One kiss per session. Non-refundable.”

Your breath hitched, and Minho, smug as ever, simply went back to reading like he hadn’t just sent your heart into overdrive.

changbin

You and Changbin had been close for years, but lately, things felt… different. He lingered when he looked at you, spoke to you with a tenderness that hadn’t always been there. You noticed the way he’d absentmindedly brush his fingers over your wrist when you sat next to each other, the way he never let you walk on the outer side of the street, the way his gaze softened when you laughed.

But despite the shift, despite the warmth he always offered, you couldn’t help but doubt what he saw in you.

Especially today.

The two of you were sitting at a café, your drinks resting between you, when you heard it. A group of girls at a nearby table whispering, their eyes flicking toward you. You weren’t trying to eavesdrop, but some words slipped through—remarks about your skin, quiet giggles muffled behind their hands.

Your stomach twisted.

You stared down at your cup, suddenly too aware of the way your acne stood out under the café’s bright lighting. Gosh. How you hated being in supermarket isles and stores because of that. Its like theyre doing it on purpose.

Changbin noticed. Of course he did.

He turned toward the girls, his jaw tightening. “What did you just say?”

The café noise didn’t seem to drown out his voice, low and sharp like a warning. The laughter stopped instantly.

One of the girls blinked, clearly startled. “Uh, nothing—”

“No, I think you did,” Changbin said, standing up from his seat. “If you have something to say about my girl, say it to my face.”

Your breath hitched. My girl.

The girls stiffened, their embarrassment evident. “We didn’t mean—”

“Yeah, you did,” Changbin cut in, eyes dark and unreadable. “But here’s the thing—you don’t know anything about her. You don’t know how kind she is, how smart she is, how funny she is. You don’t know that when she smiles, it makes my whole day better.” His voice softened slightly as he looked at you, but the intensity didn’t waver. “So unless you have something respectful to say, keep your mouths shut.”

The girls mumbled apologies before quickly gathering their things and leaving.

Changbin let out a slow exhale, running a hand through his hair as he sat back down next to you. “Idiots,” he muttered under his breath.

You stared at him, still processing what just happened. “Binnie…”

He turned toward you, the hard edges of his expression softening. “Don’t listen to them,” he murmured. “They don’t get to decide how beautiful you are.”

You swallowed. “You really mean all that?”

Changbin scoffed, shaking his head. “Do you seriously not know?”

Your heart pounded. “Know what?”

“That I’m in love with you,” he said simply, as if it were the easiest truth in the world. “And nothing anyone says will ever change that.”

You blinked at him, completely speechless.

Changbin sighed, reaching for your hand, lacing his fingers through yours with a squeeze. “I’ve been trying to tell you for months,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “Guess I just needed an excuse to finally say it.”

You looked down at your joined hands, warmth blooming in your chest, chasing away the doubt. Slowly, you squeezed back.

“I think… I’ve been waiting for you to say it.”

Changbin grinned, leaning in just a little, his voice teasing but full of something real. “Good. Because I wasn’t gonna shut up about it anytime soon.”

hyunjin

Hyunjin had been acting weird all day.

You’d caught him staring at you more than once, his lower lip caught between his teeth like he was holding something back (but gosh looked it hot). He was fidgety, more than usual—playing with the rings on his fingers, running a hand through his hair, tapping his foot against the floor.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of stolen glances and unspoken words, he grabbed your wrist and tugged you toward his art studio.

“Come with me,” he murmured, his grip warm but insistent.

You let him pull you inside, watching as he took a deep breath before sitting you down in front of an easel, a canvas covered with a cloth. His fingers twitched as he hovered near the edge, nervous energy rolling off him in waves.

“I need to show you something,” he said, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

Your brow furrowed. “Did you paint something?”

He nodded, still not looking at you. “Yeah. But… I don’t know if you’ll like it.” His voice softened, barely above a whisper. “Just—don’t get mad, okay?”

You blinked. “Why would I get mad?”

Hyunjin hesitated, then inhaled deeply, bracing himself. With one swift motion, he pulled the cloth away.

Your breath caught in your throat.

It was you.

Every detail��the curve of your lips, the light in your eyes, the way your hair fell around your face. The imperfections you always saw in yourself, the acne scars you had spent so long resenting… they were all there, painted with such care, such softness, it made your chest ache.

Your eyes burned with unshed tears. “Hyune…”

His hands trembled slightly as he stepped closer, his gaze flickering between you and the painting. “I just… I wanted to show you how I see you,” he murmured. “You always look at yourself so critically, but to me…” His voice wavered, his fingers brushing along your cheek, just like in the painting. “To me, you’re breathtaking.”

A shaky breath left your lips. “I don’t know what to say…”

He smiled, small but sincere, his thumb ghosting over your skin. “Then don’t say anything.” His voice was gentle, but there was something firm in the way he looked at you, like he was memorizing the moment. “Just let me love you the way you deserve.”

Your heart swelled, warmth spreading through your chest.

And in that moment, as he gazed at you like you were his greatest masterpiece, you knew—he already did.

©sunshineangel0 𖹭 if you liked this work, please consider reblogging, commenting or liking! xoxo franzi 💋

skz general tags: @velvetmoonlght @scarlet789

(if you want to be added to my taglist, please comment under the post.)

[ichatake]

Yandere Obito and Yandere Kakashi with the same girl 👀👀👀 I loved it. Can we get a part 2 when they are older?

Request are open! Request rules here!

Part. 1 Here!

Pairing: Yandere! Obito x reader x Yandere! Kakashi

Warning: Yandere themes, obsessive behavior, slight manipulation, mature content and slightly suggestive content.

A/N: thank you for requesting a part. 2, I love it when people like my works so much they ask for a second part! I hope you enjoy it!

As Teenagers:

✧ Obito was a very charming boy around you after he had warmed up to the idea of you staying on his team for the rest of your lives. You had now become the light of his day, completely replacing Rin. It was ironic how the last thing he wanted to happen was actually the first thing he’d come to love. Sure, he missed Rin, but you were there now. He surrounds you with his presence and surrounds himself around you at all times. That means that his pictures of Rin he had so dearly kept up in his room were suddenly taken down and replaced by your lovely face. If you compared the amount of pictures he had of Rin with the ones he has of you now, you definitely win. Apart from completely revolving his life around you, he makes sure to always be there for you; asking how you are, if you need anything, if you ate, etc. He wants you to enjoy his presence as much as he loves yours, and he wants you to feel loved by him. He doesn’t hide his growing crush, and it makes a certain silver haired boy boil inside. 

✧ Kakashi gets fed up with Obito easily, as always, but when it comes to you, he can’t help but let his mouth move on his own. He always tries to embarrass Obito in front of you, and make himself seem better than his friend. Although you quickly shut Kakashi off and tell him that what he had just said wasn’t nice, he rolls his eyes and mutters a small apology just so you’re not mad at him. Thankfully, you never stay mad at him for too long, which he deeply appreciates. Like how he appreciates how naïve you are sometimes, because he loves to lie. He had never lied before, but once his feelings for you began to blossom, it became a habit of his. It started off as a small, harmless lie. When you asked him if he had seen your lovely bracelet that Obito had gifted you, he said no, while stuffing his hands in his pockets nonchalantly. Your disappointed frown made him slightly smile as he clutched that stupid bracelet of yours. He could always give you a new one. From then on, he began to lie more constantly, and he couldn’t stop himself from doing so. He lied to keep you interested in him, or to make you look for him. He liked when you needed his help, and he wasn’t shy to sabotage a few things just so you asked him for help. 

✧ Both Kakashi and Obito knew that they were in love with you. They hadn't mentioned it to each other, but it was pretty obvious for the both of them. At first, they didn’t mention anything about it, but as they fought for your attention, it became obvious they needed to get this sorted out. At least, that’s what Kakashi thought. The boy knew Obito wouldn't be very flexible with you, considering how possessive he was, but once he caught said boy pressing his lips onto a framed picture of you while he passed by his house, he found that as the perfect opportunity to either blackmail him or make a pact. “If you don’t want (Y/N) to think you’re a total freak, then you’ll listen to what I have to say,” Kakashi’s threat made Obito sit still and quiet. There was no way he could live with himself if you ever thought he was a weirdo! So, with much irritation, he hesitantly listened to what his rival had to say. Kakashi explained that he knew Obito had feelings for you, and unfortunately, he did too. Of course, Obito wanted to speak and argue, but Kakashi shut him off immediately. “Let’s make a deal. We don’t have to fight over her. On the contrary, let’s work together. It’s obvious you want to keep her safe just as much as I do, and I don’t want her to end up like Rin,” The mention of Rin made Obito tense. At the end of their talk, they decided to put their rivalry aside when it came to you. They trusted each other enough to ‘share’, and they were very selfish kids, so that was surprising. 

✧ The boys spend all their time with you. They are there at your beck and call, and you’re glad they’re there for you! You don’t really notice how they’re unnaturally obsessed with you, so you allow weird things to happen from time to time. Like how you let them pick you up and take you home everyday. How you take food or drinks from them, never questioning if they had anything in them, because they couldn’t possibly ever put anything in your food, right? They don’t really show their weird tendencies flat out, since they’re still in denial that they’re actually doing anything wrong. They simply liked you. That’s all. This was a simple crush they developed, nothing else. It wasn’t weird that the only thing they could think about at night was you. How you would take care of them, heal them, help them, feed them. How you were so nice and gentle when it came to them. How they would try to think of different ways to make you smile, because it was the only thing they were looking forward to in the day. Your smile was contagious to them, intoxicating even. To young boys like them, this was completely normal. The most in denial was Kakashi, but to be honest, he was the one who’d act out on his impulses. As stated before, Kakashi would be willing to lie just to get you on his side. If he didn’t like someone, he’d start telling you how bad of a friend that person was because “I heard them making fun of you”. Of all people you would expect to lie, you never thought Kakashi would be one of them. So, you believed Kakashi, and cut ties with a lot of kids because of him. This was a big victory for him, because now you would look for him even more. You invited him to eat, walk, and train. Sure, you would ask Kakashi if Obito would like to go too, but his answer was always “I don’t know, I think he’s out training again with one of his clan members. Let’s just go, just the two of us,” Apart from slowly becoming a pathological liar, he also made sure to go with you everywhere, whenever he could, of course. That includes when you’re not looking. You would complain about feeling watched sometimes, and he’d try to brush your concerns off by saying “Maybe you’re being paranoid. Maybe you’re used to Obito and I walking you home that it feels weird when you don’t,” 

✧ Speaking of acting on impulses, Obito had become a little self aware that his love for you was becoming dangerously weird. Despite Kakashi being in denial, Obito knew that it wasn’t normal to think about you as if he had to. He needed to know what you were doing as much as he needed to eat, sleep, and breathe. He even felt a little guilty, in contrast to Kakashi. He felt so guilty the first time he stole from you. It was a simple hair tie you always kept around your wrist even if you never wore it. You had used it as some sort of bracelet. As he got home and pulled it out of his pocket, his heart dropped to his stomach as his eyes scanned the tie. Shame ran through his body as blood rushed to his cheeks. He couldn’t believe it. He just stole from you! He was such a freak! He considered giving it back and apologizing, but he couldn’t do that! Then you would totally think he’s sick! So he decided to keep it. He promised himself he would never steal from you ever again. He doesn’t steal. He was a good kid! But, you never know where you might end up in life, and he found himself taking other things from you. Everytime he stole, he felt like a total thief, and he was. The guilt would consume him, but his desires were satisfied. So, he stole and stole and stole until stealing small things from you wasn’t enough. He was left unsatisfied, even if he had a drawer dedicated to placing all of the things he had stolen from you.

As Young Adults:

✧ Now the three of you were older, and had matured! Both Kakashi and Obito grew taller and bulkier, making them attractive young men. Meanwhile, you had also grown and developed in every way. Your personality, your face, your body. Everything changed in ways that satisfied them. To them, you were even more gorgeous than before, and they hoped you thought they were attractive as well. You see, despite them obviously crushing on you, nothing really happened throughout the years. You still considered them friends, and showed no sign of romantic interest in them, much to their dismay. However, that doesn’t mean they stopped obsessing over you. On the contrary, it only fueled their desires. Kakashi had grown an interest in very… detailed literature. The ones you wouldn’t really let children read. His desires developed and changed as he grew, and as he entered adulthood, he found himself thinking of perverted fantasies involving you. He didn’t mean to, but his mind couldn’t help wonder off on how your breast grew a little more, or how your hips became wider. He didn’t really feel guilty about it either. He told himself these fantasies and thoughts were normal for hormonal men like him. His eyes would wander on your body a little longer than usual, and when you noticed him looking at you, he would simply smile and tell you how you haven’t changed a bit. But you had. And he loved it. Now that you weren’t kids, you didn’t need them walking you home anymore. You didn’t need him to watch over you, and you were now getting missions that didn’t involve them. Although it disappointed both of them, they tried to keep their calm. Obito would think about following you while you were out on a mission, but he never did it. He considered it an insult to your skill. You were strong enough to protect yourself, right? Kakashi, on the other hand, didn’t care. He followed you on your mission to keep a close eye on you. You were weaker than him, therefore, you needed his protection. The best part was that you never noticed him. He found it to be a win-win for all parties involved, that being you and him. 

✧ Kakashi wasn’t the only one with perverted fantasies, because Obito found himself waking up with a red face and sweat on his forehead while thinking back on the dream he just had about you. He’d be blushing the whole day while being with you, and when you’d ask him what was up, he’d brush it off saying it was just hot outside. What a big lie. Thanks to those dreams, he found himself sitting on the edge of his bed, hand clutching onto a piece of clothing he had slipped into his pocket the day you invited him and Kakashi to your house for your birthday. He felt disgusted at the fact he felt so aroused with you. That the simple faint scent of your perfume intoxicated him. The thought of owning your clothes without your consent drove him insane, much more than he already was. And the fact that he was holding the fabric close to his nose as his pants felt tight and uncomfortable had him questioning what he was doing. He asked himself why he acted this way, but made no effort into putting a stop to it as his hands fumbled with his belt to find peace from the heat and tension building up in his body. His thoughts would wonder what it would be like if it wasn’t your clothes he was holding, but it was you yourself. What would it feel like to have you sitting on his lap, holding onto his shoulders for dear life while you enjoyed how he made you feel? He had no idea how he could look at you in the eyes the next morning after a night full of dirty fantasies.

✧ Obito and Kakashi had also developed jealous tendencies that would annoy you at times. It was hard to deny that they liked you, at least a little more than just friends. And you didn’t mind it. You had also developed strong feelings for them, but that didn’t mean they could act as if they were your boyfriends when they weren’t. You hated the way you couldn’t talk to a guy because Kakashi would suddenly pop out of nowhere to try and slip you away from the guy. It annoyed you even more when he would start trying to insult the guy—not directly, but he would throw sarcastic and degrading comments just to see the guy’s confidence crumble. God forbid Obito ever sees you flirt with a dude either. He was even worse than Kakashi. When you mention how they should stop treating you as their girlfriend, they simply told you you were taking things out of proportions and how “The guy had been with half the village girls already,” They could stop if you wanted, but they were just being good ‘friends’. They were guys and they knew what their intentions were. You needed to believe them, but if you didn’t, that’s fine. If you wouldn’t stop talking to the guy, then the guy would just need to stop talking to you. Kakashi would make sure of it. And when you did come crying to them, saying how the guy was just a total joke and that they were right, they wasted no time in being by your side, “See? You needed to trust us. We told you,”, “At this point, the only guys you need in your life are us,” Maybe they were right. 

✧ Kakashi was the one that took care of all your personal connections. He decided who you kept in your life, and who would need to leave immediately. Obito, on the other hand, took care of your emotional state. Whatever Kakashi did, it would leave you in shambles, and Obito would be there to pick up the pieces. He was well aware of what Kakashi was doing behind the scenes, I mean they both agreed on it. Obito wasn’t innocent, and you didn’t know that the two men you trusted with your whole life, were actually the ones ruining it. Speaking of ruining, you seemed to be stuck in the same rank rank ever since you became a chunin. Both Kakashi and Obito had ranked up and were currently Jonin, but you were still a chunin. You wondered why, because you were doing everything right. All your missions were completed and well executed, yet you still made no progress. You even asked the Hokage, your former teacher, why you hadn’t ranked up yet. “I’m sorry (Y/N), you're just not ready yet,” he’d tell you, making you storm off angrily out of his office. To you, your missions were perfectly executed, but the anonymous reports that would reach Minato were completely different to what actually happened. They would absolutely botch your hard work and explain how you made many rookie mistakes that belonged to a genin more than a chunin. Maybe you weren’t cut out for this. Maybe you were better working at the hospital than the field. This was highly supported by Kakashi and Obito as well “You’re one of the best medical nin I’ve seen! You should put your skills to work,” Obito would say, trying to motivate you to drop trying to complete missions outside. 

✧ Let it be known that if you ever choose one of them, no you won’t. If it’s one of them, it’s both of them. They agreed on this. They both had a ‘right’ to you, so you couldn’t just choose one of them and leave the other. They had always shared you as teenagers, there was no way that would change now. They were insufferable, and they weren’t even in a relationship with you, imagine what it would be like if you actually dated them. Time was running out, and their patience was running thin. They had waited so many years for you to make up your mind, they couldn’t wait more. The more they fantasized about you, the more they craved you. Kakashi needed you to hold him, Obito needed to hold you. They needed you in every way of the word. They needed you in mind, body, and soul. They need you, and they would do anything to have you. 

[tinytinyblogs]

Take Me Back

After the breakup, all they can think about is you.

Hyung line, Maknae line

Stray Kids Masterlist 1.0 & 2.0

Your insights and reactions make these posts come alive. Love reblogs, comments, and all the good vibes welcome ✨

Chan

Chan had been isolating himself since the breakup, retreating into his studio and shutting out the world. At first, he thought it was what he needed—to be alone and process everything. But as the days blurred together, he wasn’t sure anymore. Was he giving himself space to heal, or was he just drowning in his own sadness? The once-productive sanctuary of his studio became a place of frustration. The half-finished song on his computer screen mocked him, the melody incomplete, the lyrics refusing to flow. He couldn’t think straight, couldn’t focus. All he could feel was the heavy ache in his chest. In that moment, he swore all he could think about was you. His mind reeled, his breath caught, and he realized he had never known just how important you were in his life until now. Sometimes, he swore he could hear your voice, faint but clear, nagging him gently like you used to whenever he overworked himself. The familiarity of it almost brought him comfort, but it was just a reminder of how much he missed you. His friends were worried.

They tried to coax him out, to remind him that he didn’t have to deal with this alone, but Chan would just shake his head and offer a weak smile. He spent his days clicking his pen absentmindedly, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent room. One evening, as the pen clicked rhythmically in his hand and he stared blankly at his computer screen, the door creaked open. He didn’t look up at first, too lost in his thoughts. But then he caught sight of you standing there in the corner of his vision. He blinked, startled, his heart skipping a beat it's a quiet exchange of gazes between you and him. "Stupid imagination," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head and turning his attention back to the screen. “Until when are you going to keep caving yourself in like this, Chan?” His head snapped up, his wide eyes locking onto yours. The sound of your voice was too clear, too real. He couldn’t believe it. “Have you eaten?” you asked softly, stepping closer to him. Before he could respond, you reached out and gently took the pen from his hand.

Chan froze his voice seems caught in his throat, perhaps because he's too surprised to see you standing there in front of him. His breath catching in his throat. For a moment, he thought he was dreaming, but when you didn’t disappear, he stood abruptly. His arms wrapped tightly around you, pulling you close. “It’s real... it’s really you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “God, I missed you so much.” His face buried itself in the curve of your neck as if he couldn’t let go. Your hand gently patted his back, and he exhaled shakily, some of the tension in his body melting away. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured. “Please don’t leave. Keep nagging me, please. I need you in my life.” You let him hold you, your presence grounding him. “I thought I’d lost you forever after that stupid argument,” Chan said, his voice muffled against your shoulder. “But now… I know I can’t lose you. Not when I need you the most.” And for the first time in weeks, his heart felt just a little lighter.

Minho

Minho was stubborn, always had been. After the messy breakup, he carried on as though everything was fine, pretending nothing had changed. To most, he seemed unaffected, moving through his days with the same routine. But underneath the facade, he felt hollow. Without you, his world felt off balance. Motivation, once his driving force, slipped through his fingers. He went through the motions, but everything felt heavier now. Minho became more irritable, snapping at small things that would’ve never bothered him before. He wasn’t the type to wear his heart on his sleeve, but even he couldn’t deny that everything felt wrong without you. Though Minho had never been one for overt displays of affection, he missed the simple things—like holding your hand, the warmth of your fingers intertwined with his. It was ironic how much he craved it now, a reminder of what he’d lost. In quiet moments alone, he’d find himself staring at his phone case, the one you’d given him. The stickers you both had printed together—the ones that matched like high school sweethearts—mocked him with memories of happier times.

He’d trace his finger over them absentmindedly, his chest tightening at how much he missed those days. One particularly rough day, overwhelmed by the mess of emotions he kept bottled up, Minho decided to go for a run. The cold air burned his lungs as he pushed himself harder, as though he could outrun the ache in his heart. But when he stopped, panting and catching his breath, he froze. He was standing in front of your apartment building. His feet seemed to have carried him there without him even realizing it. Somehow, he found himself wondering just how much he had been longing for you. Before he even realized it, his feet had carried him to your place—but even then, he couldn’t bring himself to turn back. For a moment, he debated turning back, but the pull was too strong. Before he knew it, he was stepping inside and walking toward your door. And then, as if fate had planned it, the door swung open. You were there, about to head out. Both of you froze. “How many times do I need to tell you to zip up this jacket?” Minho broke the silence, stepping closer.

Without waiting for permission, he gently pulled the zipper up, shielding you from the cold. “Winter’s coming soon.” His voice was soft but firm, and the gesture was so familiar that it made your heart ache. His hand gently cradled yours, feeling the coldness of your hand, and slowly, his warmth began to transfer to you. There was a beat of silence as he looked at you, his gaze searching yours. Finally, he spoke again. “We should... get back together.” Your breath hitched, but you didn’t respond, letting him continue. “We made that silly promise, remember? To stay together forever,” he said, his voice quieter now. A hint of tears welled up in his eyes, revealing a side of Minho you had never seen before. “I still want that. I still want you.” Minho’s hand reached up, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering for a moment. “I’m sorry... and I love you.” For the first time in weeks, Minho allowed himself to hope.

Changbin

Changbin couldn’t take it anymore. The weight of his own words—those impulsive, thoughtless words that shattered everything—had been suffocating him from the moment they left his lips. A few days had passed since the breakup, but each one dragged on endlessly, a torment he couldn’t escape. Regret gnawed at him like a relentless shadow, keeping him restless and desperate. That evening, he sat alone on the couch in his apartment—the same one you used to share. His leg bounced nervously as he buried his face in his hands, trying to untangle the chaos of his thoughts. But no matter how hard he tried, every thread led back to you. The empty space beside him, the silence that filled the room, and the constant ache in his chest all screamed one thing: he needed to fix this. He needed you back. By midnight, the longing became unbearable. Grabbing his jacket, Changbin bolted out the door, his heart hammering with every step. The cold night air stung his cheeks, but he barely noticed. His thoughts were consumed with you—your smile, your laughter, the way you looked at him as if he were your whole world. How had he let it all slip away?

When he reached your place, his hand trembled as he reached for the spare key you had once entrusted to him. The metal felt cold against his skin, a stark reminder of what he had lost. Taking a deep breath, he unlocked the door and stepped inside, his heart pounding so loudly it echoed in his ears. The sight of you stopped him in his tracks. You stood in the dimly lit kitchen, reaching for a glass of water. Your movements froze as you noticed him, your wide eyes mirroring his surprise. For a moment, neither of you spoke. Changbin’s teary eyes locked onto yours, his longing laid bare. You were the one he had missed more than words could ever express, and seeing you now, so close yet so distant, nearly broke him. “I... I’m so sorry,” he finally stammered, his voice quivering. “For the argument. For the awful things I said. I didn’t mean any of it.” He took a hesitant step closer, his eyes glistening with tears he could no longer hold back. His shoulders shook under the weight of his emotions, but he pressed on. “Please… don’t leave me.”

His voice cracked as he reached out, gently taking your hand in his. The familiar warmth of your touch sent a jolt through him, grounding him in a way nothing else could. His thumb brushed softly over your knuckles, a silent plea for forgiveness. “That day was stupid,” he admitted, his words tumbling out in a desperate rush. “Everything without you is stupid. I can’t think straight. My heart hurts so much, longing for you.” He tilted his head, his teary eyes searching yours for any sign of hope. “What should I do without you?” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Can we… can we try again? Please. Let me make it up to you. I’ll do anything—just don’t let this be the end.” For a moment, the room was filled with silence. Changbin held his breath, his heart suspended between despair and fragile hope. As his hand squeezed yours, his eyes pleaded with you. And in that stillness, he dared to believe that maybe, just maybe, you felt the same ache he did.

Hyunjin

Hyunjin sat on the edge of his bed, his phone resting in his trembling hands. The screen illuminated his face in the dimly lit room, his thumb hovering uncertainly over your contact. It had been two weeks since the breakup, and those fourteen days felt like a void swallowing him whole. He wanted to reach out, to see you, to explain everything, but his pride and fear kept him chained. The idea of showing up unannounced at your door was tempting, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Instead, he turned to his art, pouring his emotions onto blank pages as a silent plea to you. Every sketch he posted on social media held pieces of your story: your favorite flower, softly rendered in delicate lines; your favorite place, drawn with a wistful longing only he could convey; and little moments only you two shared, immortalized in graphite. They were messages without words, confessions without context, but still, you didn’t respond. Each day of silence cut deeper, leaving him questioning whether you even saw them or if you had chosen to ignore him altogether.

Tonight, the uncertainty became unbearable. His thumb hovered over your contact name once more, hesitating as doubts clouded his mind. What if you didn’t want to hear from him? What if he was only making things worse? But the ache in his chest pushed him forward. With a shaky breath, he finally typed out a message 'Can we talk?' He stared at the words for a long moment, his heart pounding as he debated whether to send them. When he finally hit the send button, relief and anxiety washed over him in equal measure. The message went through. You hadn’t blocked him—that alone was enough to spark a fragile hope. Emboldened, he typed again, his emotions spilling out 'About us. I want to explain myself… and I’m hoping you’ll give me a chance.' After hitting send, Hyunjin couldn’t sit still. He started pacing the room, his phone clutched tightly in his hand. Each passing second felt like an eternity, his mind racing through possibilities. Maybe you wouldn’t reply. Maybe you were done with him for good. Just as his resolve began to waver, his phone buzzed. He froze, staring at the screen as your reply appeared 'Come over.' Hyunjin didn’t waste a moment.

He grabbed his jacket and rushed out of his apartment, his heart pounding so loudly it drowned out the world around him. He ran down the street, barely remembering to slip on his shoes, his thoughts a chaotic blend of hope and fear. When he arrived at your door, he hesitated for just a moment before knocking. The door opened, and there you were. His breath hitched as your eyes met, the weight of the past two weeks settling between you. You stepped aside to let him in, and he entered slowly, his hands fidgeting at his sides as the door clicked shut. “I miss you,” he began, his voice cracking with raw emotion. His dark eyes, brimming with sincerity, searched yours. “And I’m sorry. Losing you—my anchor, my everything—was unbearable. I’ve been falling apart.” He stepped closer, his hands trembling as he clasped them together. “Can we… try again?” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I can’t let you go. You’re the one for me. Please, give me another chance.” His vulnerability lingered in the air, and for a moment, the silence felt infinite. But as you looked at him, his honesty and pain breaking through your defenses, the barriers between you began to crack.

[i-cant-sing]

I can’t get this scenario out of my head with yan!batfamily in which Bruce worms his way into a depressed reader’s life by marrying their mother and slowly taking over the role of parenting reader while dealing with the depression.

No because Bruce would do that. In his head, its just another mission to "save Y/n" and sure, your mother isn't exactly his type, and your depression isn't exactly her fault- the poor woman just works day and night for you both to survive in this outrageous economy, she doesn't have had enough time to see you not doing so well mentally.

Bruce and his sons, by whatever sequence of events, are now infatuated with you. What started as concern for your well being has now turned into obsessive need to control your life to make it better. So, yeah... Bruce decides to marry your mom, who is more than happy to finally find a chivalrous, handsome man... who just happens to also be very rich.

Meanwhile, you hate him. It's stupid, but you hate how filthy rich he is and even though you know that he donates a lot to charities, you still hate him because Bruce thinks money can solve everything (and in your case, it almost can), but you can't help but feel insulted everytime he offers you a cheque, a wad of cash to pay off your bills and loans, or even a $20 bill to get yourself some snacks. It feels... abnormal. You're not a charity case.

Perhaps your socioeconomic status isn't the only reason you're depressed. Maybe it's just you missing your father (could be dead/murdered/suicide/just moved far far away).

The moment Bruce finds out that your dad is the reason why you're so depressed, oh it's "I WILL FATHER ANOTHER CHILD IN NEED OF PROFESSIONAL HELP" time. He's doubling down on his paternal instincts and he's just mentally smacking himself like "ofc you need a father figure in your life. Who better than me????"

And it just makes your skin crawl at how nonchalant Bruce is about all this- about incorporating himself into your and your mother's life. Treating you both, especially you like you're actually related. Like he's been around with you two his entire life. You lose your appetite when he stays for dinner, but you sit at the table for your mother. You try to make excuses when your mother tells you that you have to go with her at the Wayne Manor because "Bruce wants to spend a day with family". You can't help but look at your mother in wonder at how she is comfortable when you both pull up at the manor. You thought things would be easier if Bruce's sons were also uncomfortable or even hated you and your mother (or thought that your mom was a gold digger), but no, they're just as worse as Bruce. Dick being particularly the worst in the sense that he's more affectionate and his love language is physical touch, so you get squished to his chest everytime he sees you, with a small cry "my baby!" Sometimes, "sis" would be added.

You didn't like either nickname.

Then there's Jason, who is the most normal one of them all, perhaps because he isn't around much and when he is, he just makes small talk.

Tim doesn't talk much either, but he stares a lot. Somehow you feel like he knows something about you, at least more than he's letting on.

And lastly, there's Damian, that pompous little shit. You know he's being amicable for Bruce, but his eyes look at you like he's judging you- thinks you're beneath him. Which is true, in the sense of finance. Despite all of that, Damian still wants to show you off his interests/things around the manor. He's still being arrogant ofc, "Look at this oil painting- it's a Van Gogh original. Van Gogh is a famous painter- he's dead though. I'm sure you aren't familiar with his works. I can take you to the Gotham gallery to show you more paintings. Father owns it, so it can be just us two without other people bothering us." He's nice but also not nice. But at least he's not doing it intentionally.

Then there's Bruce. Who is always looking at you with a small smile, but his eyes are always analysing you, even when he's not looking at you directly, you know that he's watching your every move like a hawk. He tries spending time with you, often he succeeds, only because your mother makes you go. He's a good man, hasn't done anything exactly inappropriate, but... even something as small as making you walk on the inner side of the sidewalk so that you're safe from the cars... it doesn't sit right with you. Why is he being so paternal? You certainly have been rude to him on purpose. Always giving him one word answers when he asks you how your day was.

Then one day your mother returns home with a beaming smile.

"Bruce proposed to me! We're getting married!"

After only 3 months of dating? It's what you wanted to say, but you held it back when you saw how happy she was.

The next day, Bruce held a dinner at the manor to celebrate the engagement. Surprisingly, that was the first time you saw Damian looking mad at you and your mom.

It was a reasonable reaction. Acceptable to you, instead of the overly excited yell of Dick "WE'RE GOING TO BE SIBLINGS! That means we can have slumber parties and pillow fights and-"

Your mother and Bruce were shopping for the wedding, looking at dresses and venues and all the shenanigans while you were at the manor, moving your and your mom's stuff in with the boys. It was the last thing you wanted, but your mother.... she insisted on it. Or at least that's what she says, you know Bruce insisted.

Doesn't matter because by next year, you'd be moving away to college anyways.

You just need to put up with this for a little longer and see your mother finally be happy.

You didn't expect your mother to be dead a week before the wedding.

It was out of the blue. You were sitting in the library at the manor because Dick refused to let you be alone in your room all the time, so he was making you some cookies while you read. Then he and Bruce came together, their faces pale as they looked at you.

"Y/n... your mother, she... she got in an accident."

She was driving to some restaurant, wanted to get you your favourite fried chicken and spend some time with you alone. But on her way, a truck crashed right into her car.

She died on the spot.

Whatever little improvement you had on your mental health went straight down the drain. You locked yourself in your room and just cried quietly. They left you alone the first few days, but then Bruce and Dick tried to persuade you to come out, that they were concerned for you. You did come out the day the funeral was held. And it hurt you... it hurt you so deeply when you found out they were burying her at the Wayne cemetery.

She wasn't a fucking Wayne.

If you had any strength, if you had any energy at all, you would've taken your mother and buried her someplace else.

But you didn't.

When you returned inside the manor, you went straight to your mother's room, which was also Bruce's room but you didn't care if he saw you in there or not. You just started packing all of your mother's stuff, her clothes, her jewellery, her photos, everything she came here with, which wasn't much to begin with but still.

"Y/n?" You stiffened when Bruce called you, but you didn't pause on packing. "What are you doing? Looking for something?"

You sighed. Might as well get this over with.

You turnd around, not looking him in the eye.

"I'm moving out. And I'm taking mom's stuff with me. You can check, I'm not stealing anything that belongs to you."

Bruce looked at you in confusion. "Moving out? Where are you going?"

"College. I'll be going there soon anyways, so I'm moving to an apartment with some friends."

"Oh, but you don't need to move out. You can stay with us. Youre family-" you cut him off.

"Bruce, let's not." You finally look at him. "We're not family. I never was, I never wanted to be. Mom's gone now, and I have no reason or desire to be here. Thank you for letting me stay here for as long as you have, but I will be moving out by tomorrow, if not tonight." You said picking up your mother's bag of stuff and walking out of the room. Bruce followed you to your room.

"But I don't want you to move-"

You dropped the bags. "I don't care what you want!"

Bruce looked at you with his brows furrowed. He didn't get why you were acting like this. Your yelling had gotten the attention of the boys too, all looking in confusion at the bags.

"I don't want to be a part of this family. I never have, and I never will. I never liked you or anyone in this family. And if you're concerned about me speaking to the media about you guys, don't worry. If it helps you, you can make me sign an NDA!"

Damian narrowed his eyes at you. "Dont talk to father like-"

"Shut up!" You yelled harshly. You didn't care who you were hurting. Your mother was gone, you had no reason to be amicable to them anymore.

-

They left you alone that day, and by the next morning, you were ready to leave. At 6 am, you walked down to the main door, with your bags. You weren't expecting them all to be waiting for you, but here they were. You took a step towards the door, but Dick stopped you.

He cleared his throat. "Um, this is the NDA... if you'd just sign it here." He handed you the papers.

Unbelievable. They actually drew up a contract. You took the pen from his hand and signed at the dotted lines.

"Bye." You took another step, except Damian and Tim blocked your path.

"What now?"

"Where are you going?" Tim asked.

"Do we have to go over this again?" You grumbled. "College." You answered.

"You can't." Damian said smugly. What's he smirking for?

"You're gonna break my legs?" You scoffed.

"No, you just signed a document saying that you're a part of this family, and Bruce Wayne is your guardian and has authority over all decisions concerning you like going to college, or even... going out of the house." Damian replied.

You looked at Bruce, because there's no way Damian is being serious. But there were no signs of joking. You looked at Dick, at Jason-

They were all dead serious.

"You cant- you can't be- you can't keep me here." You said.

"You signed the documents. It's your fault for not reading them." Tim said.

"Bruce-"

"I really do believe that it'd be better for you to stay here." Bruce said, taking ahold of your shoulders. "At least until you're doing better mentally."

"I'm fine-"

"I don't think so. And I could even take you to a psychiatrist, they'd agree with me." Bruce cupped your cheek as you flinched away. "You'd be happy here. I promise you that, you'll be safe and happy with us."

You'd try fighting, but you already knew you were outnumbered.

Besides, even if you weren't, even if you were alone with the smallest one of them, you still wouldn't be able to leave. You have no idea what Damian is capable of.

After all, he's the one who had your mother killed.

[disgustingtwitches]

A Rose in Harlem

New York is supposed to be the city where people vanish into the chaos, but somehow, Simon Riley has found his way into your life. He’s managed to slip past your defenses, filling a void you didn’t realize was there. But when the closeness starts to feel too real, you pull back, desperate to hide your vulnerability. Simon, however, has already bared his own scars and expects you to do the same. Suddenly, your life feels like a romcom you never signed up for, starring the one man who’s impossible to ignore.

Long live the rose that grew from concrete, when no one else ever cared.

Masterlist

PART 4

The Sweetest Taboo

So, you're sleeping with your neighbor. This is fine. Totally fine. You're two consenting adults; no one needs to know. Except Simon seems to disagree.

You wouldn’t peg him as the "kiss and tell" type, but much to your duress, Simon is unapologetically the "kiss and show" type.

At the grocery store, he casually shows up at the same time, grabbing your bags like it’s second nature and walking you home. The stares from the neighbors make your face burn.

Morning run-ins in the foyer have evolved into something dangerously inappropriate. He refuses to let you leave without a kiss. Sometimes it’s just a fleeting brush of lips; other times, it’s deeper, lingering, and edging into the territory of lewd, making you shove his face away.

Then there’s the hoodie. One of his oversized ones, soft and smelling faintly of him. He bullied you into wearing it. You caved, of course, but it stays hidden in the back of your drawer when Ishta comes around—there’s no way you’re dealing with opening that can of worms.

It’s not just the overt gestures, though. It’s the way he lingers too long at your door after you’ve kissed him goodnight. Watches you through the fire escape, like he has every right to. Sitting there with his legs sprawled, a cigarette lazily dangling between his fingers, he makes no attempt to hide it.

You tried to put an end to that one. Bought curtains on a whim, feeling smug about the newfound privacy they’d grant you. But they mysteriously disappeared the day after you installed them—conveniently after you’d gone to work.

Simon played dumb when you confronted him, leaning casually against his doorframe.

“Dunno what you’re talking about, angel. Someone breaking in while you’re away? Maybe I should stick around your place and keep watch.”

His grin was infuriatingly smug, as it usually is.

It’s all becoming a little too real, a little too… loud. And yet, when you’re pressed up against him in the quiet of your apartment, his hands framing your face like you’re the only thing worth holding onto, you almost forget about his wrongdoings.

***

“Brought out the good shit tonight.”

Ishta grins, popping open a bottle of prosecco—the cheap, overly sweet kind she adores. You hold back the urge to grimace as she pours, passing you a glass.

“What's the occasion?”

“Me and Mr.Scottsman are official!”

She squeals lifting her glass high. You mimic the gesture, the clink of glass on glass ringing lightly through the room.

“Wow, it's so official you still won't tell me his name.”

You quip, rolling your eyes as you take a cautious sip. The sweetness of the wine hits immediately, and you fight the reflex to wince.

“John. Johnny.”

She sighs dreamily, hearts in her eyes.

“I call him Johnny because John is way too serious for my liking.”

You raise a brow at her,

"Sounds like you’ve got it bad, Ishta.”

She doesn’t deny it, swirling the prosecco in her glass like it’s some romantic prop, her grin widening.

"Oh, you have no idea. He’s got this laugh—it’s ridiculous—and he can’t make tea to save his life. But, ugh, he’s perfect."

You shake your head, taking another begrudging sip of the prosecco, already bracing yourself for what’s sure to be a night of gushing anecdotes about Johnny.

“Perfect,”

You echo with a laugh, setting your glass down.

“You’ve been together for how long now? A month?”

“Three weeks,”

Ishta corrects.

“But when you know, you know.”

You snort, leaning back against the arm of the couch.

“Yeah, sure. You’re gonna marry this man, huh?”

“Don’t tempt me,”

She says, her grin widening.

“He’s already invited to meet his family. Can you believe it? His family, and I’m just over here trying to not come off as a complete lunatic.”

“Well, you’re failing spectacularly.”

You tease.

She throws a pillow at you, laughing.

“Says the one who’s been mysteriously glowing these past few weeks. Care to spill why?”

You freeze for half a second, a sip of prosecco poised at your lips.

“Glowing? What are you even talking about?”

“Oh, don’t play coy with me,”

Ishta says, narrowing her eyes.

“You’re hiding something. Someone.”

You feign indifference, shrugging.

“Maybe I’ve just been using better skincare.”

“Bullshit. Spill. Who is it?”

She leans forward, her gaze piercing.

There’s no way you’re telling her. Not about Simon. Not about the fire escape. Not about the way his hands feel against your skin or the things he whispers in the dark.

“No one,”

You say firmly, hoping she buys it.

“And stop projecting your ridiculous love life onto me.”

Ishta squints at you, unconvinced.

“Uh-huh. Sure. For now, you’re off the hook. But mark my words,”

She wags a finger at you.

“I’ll figure it out.”

You laugh nervously, downing the rest of your drink.

You’re grateful for how easily distracted Ishta can be, her attention now fully locked onto the trashy dating show the two of you watch every Thursday. It’s a routine you’d both adopted more for the chance to mock strangers' poor life choices than for any genuine investment in the drama.

Occasionally, she’ll pipe up, her voice dreamy as she recounts the latest romantic gesture from Johnny, her “Mr. Scotsman." She compares him to the guys on TV, and each time, she insists that Johnny does it better. You can almost hear the wistful sigh in her voice as she talks about how much she adores him.

You smile at her, teasing lightly,

“Gonna end up as one of those military wives?”

Ishta laughs, a genuine, carefree sound that rings out in the space between you. She shrugs with mock indifference, but there’s a spark in her eyes.

"Maybe. I mean, he’s a loverboy under all that wildness, but yeah… I’d say I’ve got it bad.”

You smirk at her, shaking your head.

"You’re hopeless."

"And you’re one to talk,”

She fires back, leveling you with a knowing look.

“Sexy British neighbor still got you tied up in knots?”

You scoff, taking a sip of your drink to stall. The wine’s still too sweet, sticking to your tongue, but you focus on the tang that lingers at the edges.

“I’m not ‘tied up’ in anything. Haven't even spoken to him since the noise complaint situation.”

“Riiight.”

She side-eyes you, unconvinced.

“Something tells me that's not entirely true. You get this weird look on your face every time I bring him up.”

You try to keep a straight face.

“Maybe you’re reading too much into things.”

“Uh-huh.”

She leans back, crossing her arms.

“One of these days, I'll catch you slipping.”

You roll your eyes, desperate to redirect her attention.

“I think you’ve had too much wine.”

“Or not enough,”

She shoots back, taking another sip with a knowing smirk. She hums, like she just remembered something important.

“I forgot to tell you, Johnny invited you to come with me to meet his family.”

You make a face of confusion.

“Me? Why?”

“I talk about you a lot, believe it or not you are one of the most important people in my life.”

The statement takes you back a bit, makes you feel a twinge of guilt lying to her.

“But his family?”

“Well…”

She tilts her head, searching for the right words.

“They’re not exactly blood relatives. They’re his squad, I think that’s the term he uses. He trusts them with his life, so he sees them as family—or the closest thing to it. Something like that.”

It’s her turn to hesitate, her fingers absently trailing the stem of her wine glass.

“Anyway, he thought you might want to come along. Besides,” She adds with a grin, peeking up again.

“It'll be fun. Think about it! Drinks, charming military men, and me as your entertainment. What more could you want?”

With Simon in your life, you think to yourself, you find yourself wanting for nothing lately—except maybe a little less suffocating attention.

“Yeah, what more could I want.”

You say aloud, masking the weight of your thoughts with a light laugh.

Ishta beams at your answer,

“That’s the spirit! You’ll see—it’ll be good for you. And hey, if nothing else, you can help me judge Johnny’s friends. Who knows, maybe one of them is a secret disaster like the guys on this show.”

The conversation shifts back to the TV, her playful commentary dragging you out of your head. But even as you nod along, your mind is already working on an escape plan.

You’re just gonna text her some excuse when the day comes. She’ll understand. Probably.

***

“How can you breathe in these?”

You groan, tugging at the waistband of Ishta’s skin-tight leather pants as she twists and wiggles, trying to pull them up.

“Breathing isn’t a priority here.”

She huffs, planting her hands on her hips and giving a final shimmy.

“Looking good is. Besides,”

She admires herself in the mirror.

“Johnny will love it.”

“Yeah, he probably cares more about how easy they’ll be to take off, Ishta.”

She grins, running her hands down the smooth fabric.

“Yeah. My man, the most efficient guy I know.”

You laugh, shaking your head as she strikes a dramatic pose.

“Efficiency—truly the cornerstone of romance.”

“Don’t knock it,”

She quips, spinning around to face you.

“He’s got it down to an art. Makes him a great lover.”

“Ishta.”

“I mean seriously, when I'm running late he knows exactly what to-”

“Ishta!”

“What? Someone has to get laid here, and it sure isn't you!”

You groan in protest, grabbing a throw pillow and launching it at her. She ducks, her laughter ringing out as she returns to inspecting her reflection in the mirror, twisting to check out the back of her pants.

“I think my butt’s getting bigger.”

She declares, completely unfazed.

“Aren’t we running late?”

You ask, exasperated.

“We’re fine. He’s getting us an Uber.”

She replies, adjusting the waistband of her pants with a smug little smile.

“To Brooklyn? Ouuu, big money.”

You tease, rolling your eyes as you grab your bag.

She grins, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

“I just got him trained right. I'll show you how to do it when you get your own man. Or woman. Or anyone.”

Before you get to have your say her phone dings, and she grabs her keys.

"C’mon, Uber’s here."

You give her one last look before following her out the door, ready for whatever insanity lies ahead.

***

The bar you stand outside of is dingy and small, a stark contrast to the sleek black SUV Johnny arranged for Ishta and you. You raise an eyebrow, already feeling out of place.

“Are you sure this is the place?”

You ask, rocking side to side in your heels, feet already hurting.

“Too good for it?”

Ishta teases.

“No, just… aren’t we a little overdressed?”

You reply, glancing down at your outfit. Her red-bottoms are going to get ruined by the sticky floors, and your top is way too low-cut for a place like this.

Ishta smirks, giving you a look.

“You’ll be fine. Besides, if anyone stares for too long, the guys will probably scare them off— if they are anything like Johnny describes.”

And so, you step hesitantly into the grungy spot, thinking of what shitty liquor you need to get you through the night.

The bar is dim, louder than you expected, the scent of stale beer and fried food heavy in the air. Ishta leads the way with her usual confidence, weaving through the mismatched tables and chairs. You follow, heels catching on the sticky floor, your stomach tightening as she heads toward a table in the back.

That’s when you see it: the large black hoodie. The person wearing it is turned away, broad shoulders hunched slightly. Something about the way they hold themselves makes your chest tighten. You tell yourself it can’t possibly be him. The odds are ridiculous, almost laughable.

And yet, your feet falter.

Johnny spots Ishta first, lighting up with a grin so wide it makes his eyes crease at the corners, laughter lines deepening across his face. There’s a boyish enthusiasm in the way he waves her over, unrestrained and unabashed, like a pet spotting its owner after a long day apart.

You remember her mentioning once, in passing, that he was born the year of the dog. It’s funny how fitting that feels now. Loyal, eager, a little too earnest. He all but bounces out of his seat, the movement causing a ripple of attention to shift across the table.

The ridiculously pretty man seated next to him glances up first, his expression brightening with easy charm. Across from him, an older man with a beard you could only describe as unnecessarily dramatic turns and nods politely.

Then, the hoodie moves. Your stomach plummets.

Simon.

His expression is unreadable, but the sight of him freezes you in place, and before you realize it, you’re standing there looking like a deer caught in headlights. The rest of the table follows his gaze, looking at you with various degrees of curiosity.

Ishta grabs your arm.

“Oh my God. Girl, is that your man? What’s wrong? You can’t back away now!”

She says in a low voice, dragging you forward before you can recover.

“That is not my man,”

You hiss back, but it does nothing to stop her relentless pull.

Johnny grins as you both approach, his voice warm and thick with his accent.

“Almost scared her off, Ghost.”

Ghost?

Your eyes flick to Simon. His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t say a word.

Johnny, takes over the introductions.

“This is Simon. Don’t mind him, wasn’t properly socialized as a bairn.”

There’s some shifting around as the group makes room. To your dismay, Simon stays tucked into one side of the booth, leaving Kyle and Price to scoot out. They pull over chairs from a nearby empty table, and you find yourself awkwardly squeezed beside Simon while Ishta takes the seat across from you.

“Finally nice to put a name to the face.”

Ishta beams at Simon, and you can see the faint flicker of amusement in his eyes, though he doesn’t respond. She laughs when Johnny makes a confused face, giving a brief rundown to the table.

“She says you haven't seen each other since that incident.”

Ishta waves her glass in Simon's direction.

Simon leans back in his seat, mask still up.

“Avoids me like the plague, she does. Must’ve left quite the impression.”

Kyle snorts, leaning forward with an amused grin.

“That’s just his thing. Simon’s got a talent for being a nuisance, don’t you, mate? Knows exactly how to make people’s lives hell.”

“Only when they deserve it.”

Simon replies smoothly.

The table chuckles, but you stay quiet. His knee bumps yours under the table and you shoot him a sharp glance. He doesn’t even look your way, focused instead on swirling his drink he hasn't touched. You drink more than you probably should, hoping it’ll dull the awkwardness.

Thankfully, the rest of the table carries on without issue, their conversation flowing easily.

“Military, huh?”

You ask eventually, your voice quieter than intended.

Simon doesn’t look at you, but Johnny leans in with a grin.

“Yeah, we're stationed here for a while, so get used to seeing my handsome face around.”

The ease in his tone does little to settle the tension twisting in your chest. Simon doesn’t so much as flinch, remaining a stoic, unreadable presence. His silence feels deliberate, heavy, but Johnny’s brightness seems determined to lighten the mood.

“Maybe you’ll even get used to this one,”

Johnny adds playfully.

“Though I wouldn’t hold your breath. He’s got the personality of wet cement.”

That makes you laugh a little, along with the rest of the table. Younod toward Simon.

“So… Ghost. That’s a call sign?”

Simon hums, noncommittal, leaving Johnny to fill the silence.

“Wish I got something cool like that,”

Johnny says, shooting Simon a look that’s both teasing and fond.

“Guess he earned it, scary bastard.”

You glance at Simon again. His face gives nothing away.

Ishta leans over and whispers something into Johnny’s ear, her lips brushing against his ear with a playful familiarity. Whatever she says prompts a crooked grin to spread across his face, his blue eyes lighting up with mischief.

The two of them fall into their own little world, lovebirds whispering and laughing softly, entirely lost to anyone else at the table. Their giddy exchange contrasts sharply with the tension simmering between you and Simon.

You shift in your seat, feeling the press of his knee against yours again. It’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but the contact makes your pulse quicken. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, wondering if it’s intentional. If he notices your reaction, he doesn’t show it.

Across the table, Price and Kyle keep the conversation flowing, their camaraderie effortless. You envy the ease they seem to find in this dynamic, the sense of belonging that eludes you in this moment.

Eventually, you decide to call it a night.

“Think I’ll head out, guys.”

You say, grabbing your bag. You glance toward Ishta, but she’s too busy twirling a strand of Johnny’s hair between her fingers, practically sitting in his lap.

Kyle stands, reaching for his jacket.

“Want me to walk you home, love?”

Before you can answer, Price butts in.

“Think Simon’s closer. Said you're neighbors, right?”

Your mouth goes dry.

“Oh, uh. Yeah.”

“He'll take you home. Don't need Kyle chasing up your dress.”

Simon finally looks at you, dark eyes unreadable. Without another word, he gets up.

***

The train ride back is painfully silent, tension coiling thick between you. Simon doesn’t make small talk, doesn’t fill the awkward space with meaningless words, and you can’t decide if you’re grateful or annoyed.

When you finally reach your apartment, you stop at the door, fumbling with your keys. You unlock it and step inside, turning to offer a polite, “Goodnight.”

Before you can close the door, Simon’s boot wedges into the frame.

“No kiss goodnight?”

He murmurs, pulling down his mask, voice low.

“Do you always have to be like this?”

You mumble, leaning forward and tilting your head up.

“You like it.”

He replies, pressing his scarred lips against your glossed ones.

The kiss lingers in your mind longer than it lasts, the warmth still spreading through your limbs. He pulls away, slipping his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. You stand with the door still open,

“Ok, well, goodnigh-”

“Not gonna invite me in for a drink?”

The way he says it—like he’s giving you the option, but he knows exactly how this game goes—brings a rush of heat to your cheeks.You hesitate for a moment, the weight of the night pressing down on you, but it hits you then—you’ve been waiting for him to make this move. Simon knows exactly how to push just enough, always teetering on the line between being too much and just enough.

You tilt your head, playing the game, your voice teasing.

“I don’t believe in letting strangers into my place, Ghost.”

His jaw tightens at the name, a flash of something flickering behind his eyes, but he recovers quickly, scanning your face with a quiet intensity.

“Hit your head, angel? The name’s Simon, remember?”

“Hmm,”

You cock your head, a playful smirk curling on your lips as you tease,

“Hmm, doesn’t ring a bell, sorry.”

Simon’s expression shifts, eyes narrowing just a fraction as his lips curl into a grin.

“No? Thought you’d remember it with how many times you say it when I’ve got you bent over that couch.”

“Simon!”

You gasp with a smile.

“Glad to see your memories back, love. Had me worried there for a moment.”

His voice drips with smug satisfaction, fingers creeping around your waist as you step backward into your apartment. His movements mirror yours, closing the distance, the same familiar rhythm between you two. Except this time, the dance ends in your bed, bathed in silvery moonlight that filters through the windows, casting shadows and soft glimmers over the room.

What he says to you in that space, the things he says are as depraved as they are tender, sinful words laced with something softer, gentler. And in that moment, you realize they’re the sweetest things Simon is capable of offering.

Lying on his chest, you let your thoughts drift, his sparse chest hair tickling the side of your face. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat drums against your ear as your fingers trace lazy circles on his skin. His hand mirrors yours, gently skimming the small of your back in slow, soothing motions.

You enjoy these moments just aas much as the more heated ones—maybe more. They feel almost domestic, like peeking through the keyhole of something you tell yourself you can’t have. But for now, it’s enough. It fills that quiet loneliness you feel some days.

Simon presses a soft kiss to the crown of your head, his lips lingering there for a beat longer than you expect. It feels like him savoring the closeness he so rarely allows himself.

“Mind if I sleep here tonight?”

His voice low and casual.

Your body goes stiff before you can stop it, and his hand on your back stills.

“Oh,”

You say, forcing a laugh that cracks at the edges.

“Didn’t think you’d grown tired of your bachelor setup. What happened? Mattress on the floor finally giving up on you?”

Simon hums, unbothered, his fingers resuming their lazy path.

“Figured I’d upgrade. You offering?”

Your heart stutters in your chest, and you sit up quickly, putting a small but deliberate distance between you.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

He doesn’t move, watching you with hooded eyes, his expression calm, unreadable.

“Why not? Thought we were comfortable now.”

His tone is deceptively light, but you can hear the challenge beneath it.

“I don’t sleep well with someone else in the bed,” You say, crossing your arms, covering your bare chest.

“It’s just a thing—I’m used to having my space.”

��Space, huh?”

He sits up and leans back against the wall, hands clasped behind his head, looking entirely too at ease.

“Didn’t seem to need space a few minutes ago, angel.”

You frown, heat rising to your face.

“That’s different. Sleeping is… it’s personal.”

He smirks, tilting his head slightly.

“And what we just did isn’t?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to keep your irritation in check.

“You know what I mean, Simon.”

“Not sure I do,”

His tone is playful, but there’s a stubborn edge to it now.

“Seems to me like you’re just makin’ excuses.”

“I’m not.”

The words come out sharper than you intended. You sigh, running a hand through his short hair, an apology of sorts.

“It’s just… I’m not ready for that.”

“A lil sleepover?”

He tilts his head. Before you can respond, he grabs your face with one hand, his fingers pressing against your cheeks to make your lips pout.

You yank your head away, sucking your teeth in frustration.

“You’re impossible.”

He grins, leaning back against the wall like he’s won something.

“Am I? Or are you just makin’ this harder than it needs to be?”

“Simon,”

You snap,

“It’s not about being hard or easy. It’s about boundaries. Respecting them.”

“Boundaries?”

He raises an eyebrow, the smirk slipping just slightly.

“Since when have we had those?”

Never, you think to yourself. It's a little distressing if you think about it too long, letting a man have such sway on you.

He pulls you closer, his thick arms wrapping around you with an ease that feels as natural as it is intrusive. You don’t resist, though. Instead, your fingers trace the inked lines on his forearm, a distraction, an excuse not to look him in the eye.

“Think you got one more in you?”

His voice is low, dipping into something softer, coaxing.

“I’ll be out your hair after that.”

You can’t help the faint smile that tugs at your lips, even though you hate yourself for giving in so easily. It’s always like this with him—pushing, pulling, finding that sliver of space where you’re weak enough to let him in.

“Yeah,”

You murmur, leaning just slightly into his touch,

“Think I do.”

His lips curve into a grin, satisfied, but he doesn’t say anything more. Instead, he pulls you into his lap. And just like always, he gets exactly what he wants.

Prev | Next

[nicverse]

gates

just two fools loving each other. jason todd x fem!reader warnings: mention of blood, wounds and bullets.

ノㅤㅤ𓈒ㅤㅤ⊹ㅤㅤㅤㅤׅㅤㅤ✩ㅤㅤ˚ ♡

ㅤㅤׅ ㅤㅤㅤ𝅄ㅤㅤ꒪ㅤㅤ꒱ㅤ

Yes, sometimes he was a bit of a pain in the ass but you could never say you didn’t love him. He was trouble from the moment he stepped in your life, but the heart wants what it wants, and you opened your door for him every night so willingly. 

The more you denied your feelings, the harder it was to breathe without him. With Jason, you felt like your heart finally belonged to someone who appreciated it, he entered your soul and life without noticing, took you in his hands and guarded you as if you were his most precious treasure. 

The sins he committed every night were forgotten when he gave you his smile, a simple trace of happiness in his eyes wherever you were around him. Gotham was a cruel city but just the thought of living there without him made your heart race with desperation.

You would follow him anywhere. Jason never said it, but he would follow you too. He would take a hundred bullets for you if it meant keeping you safe —keeping you with him. He never thought he would need someone so much, but now every war he fought was for you, and every punch he threw was to keep the evil of the world away from you. 

You were complaining about another one of your coworkers while you cooked dinner. Jason loved listening to you, but he couldn’t help but admire the way you looked. It felt so oddly domestic. His arms resting in the kitchen aisle as you were too focused on your own thing, just talking about your day in your comfy clothes— a sight he wished he could wake up to every morning.  

“I know I shouldn't be thinking about murdering someone but this asshole makes me reconsider it,” you said, your eyes pinned on the food “I told you I could take care of him” Jason suggested, you shook your head quickly, turning to point him with your finger.

“No Jason, you can’t blackmail my coworker. I’ll deal with it myself” he chuckled with a roll of his eyes. You always insisted on taking care of things by yourself, too stubborn to let him make your life easier in his own ways. “What's the fun in that, princess?” you rolled your eyes, too used to his nicknames now. 

You secretly loved them. It made things special between you too, an unspoken agreement of intimacy. 

“Let me remind you, the last time I let you deal with something for me, you ended up with a bullet in your arm” you turned to face him, arms crossed in front of your chest. Jason smiled, nodding his head before speaking again. Your mind went back to your bloody bathroom, hands desperately trying to remove the bullet without killing him but he was smiling the whole time. 

Jason knew he would be fine with you. He decided to open his gates to his favorite angel: you. He let your hands run across his scarred chest and heal his wounds so tenderly, longing for the warmth of your fingers across his skin as you scolded him for being so selfless and impulsive... And Jason? He couldn't care less about your complains because he would repeat it over and over just to feel your hands in his body.

“I know, I would do it again just for you.”

—another one from my jason x journalist!reader. i'm writing the first chapter now but until i decide publish it i'll be updating you guys with these small interactions.

—i'm accepting requests now! i'd love to make yours <3

[itshermocrates]

Some thoughts on Vander and Silco's relationship

I already talked about this when Arcane S1 first came out, but now that the show is over and we got to see a different reality where everyone has a good ending (except for Vi I guess) I want to bring back my Silco x Vander thoughts

So yeah, vanco ?? silder ??? post

Even if in Arcane S1 there’s some sort of parallel between Jinx/Powder and Silco + Vi and Vander, in my eyes those two were made for an old man yaoi story

Now that we have seen Jayvik’s evolution and that glimpse of them together in a “better future”, I realized that Vander and Silco (+ Felicia) could have something similar to what was happening initially with Jayce and Viktor (+ Mel)

Two best friends working together for a common cause, one hopelessly in love with the other while his partner can’t see ―or doesn’t want to recognize― his own feelings. Since I already have a Jayvik analysis in my drafts, I’m going to focus on Silco and Vander

This will be half a theory - half a fic + I also posted this on BlueSky so yeah, if you see it there it was also me lol

[Pinning, Unrequited love and love confessions that go wrong ahead]

I think Silco and Vander were the perfect duo back in their youth, together they had the brains and the strength, using both charm and cold logic to make people eager to follow them. What Silco lacked, Vander was able to provide and vice versa. Together they were the greatest leaders Zaun could ever ask for.

They not only completed each other like two puzzle pieces, but also shared a bond that had been nurtured since childhood. They had been facing hardships and Piltover’s aggressions since they were little kids, so it was natural that the years of friendship brought them impossibly close.

Some even said that they could have entire conversations without exchanging a single word.

At some point Silco developed a crush on Vander, how could he not? Despite his strength and sometimes scary appearance, Vander had always been the big sunshine boy who was looking after him. That urge to protect and take care of others seemed to be part of his very essence, and if someone benefited from this, it was his best friend.

Of course, they needed to fight and get dirty in the deepest hellholes of Zaun, but even when Vander got his knuckles drenched in blood, Silco could only see the kind man with bright eyes and a dream for a better life that Vander truly was.

Silco really thought that this new beginning for them was only possible because Vander was there with him, since when hope seemed completely lost, when the circumstances took another member of their little family, Vander always remained firm in his stance. They would find a way, they would fight back, they would keep pushing forward and they wouldn’t stop until they finally had the future they deserved.

Oh, wasn’t he convincing? Always the beacon in their times of need, who else could lead them out of their misery?

Vander’s kindness was disarming, and his light was so bright that Silco couldn’t help but fall in love with him. He loved him so deeply it made him feel sick, but he could do nothing about it. Vander had been in love with Felicia for almost as long as Silco had loved him, and even if she wasn’t really interested in him, there was no way that man could get over his emotions.

Just like Silco himself couldn’t make his own feelings go away. He pinned for years, forcing himself to hide how he felt so nothing changed between them and he didn’t lose his best friend. He had to protect their friendship, but, above everything else, he had to protect their dream of a free nation for Zaun.

Silco pinned and suffered in silence until he couldn’t take it anymore, until his unrequited love felt like an open wound badly infected, moments away from killing him. Then, and only then, he confessed.

Vander didn’t make a huge deal out of it, he was understanding and visibly confused. It was an awkward situation, but he could be nothing but kind, even as he broke Silco’s heart. Of course, he didn’t feel the same.

Or maybe he did, but he was too blind to see it, too infatuated by the idea of a future with Felicia to give a shot to a real future with him.

Vander had used a very familiar word to excuse his lack of introspection, one that served him as a shield while unknowingly harming Silco as if it had used the sharpest of blades.

“Silco, you’re my brother…”

They used brotherhood a lot to describe their relationship. Their found family, their friends, their allies in the Zaun revolution and even the fucking pilts, they all could see how deeply they cared for each other. And every time that was the reason they assumed to be behind their bond.

No one could ever deny the love in their eyes, the protective gestures, the smiles... It was obvious, but everyone assumed that what they shared was a blood bond. For Silco it was much more than some stupid liquid running through their veins, what they shared had been built over years of companionship, years of pain and struggle, blood was fucking nothing in comparison. Their souls were connected in a way no one could ever imagine or understand.

And Vander knew this. He knew how strong their bond was, but he hadn't really asked himself if what he felt for Silco was something more than brotherhood. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do if it wasn’t the case either, but he didn’t go as far as to truly consider it.

Vander didn't know how to react to Silco's confession, he didn’t want to hurt him or change their world forever. He was happy as they currently were, it was easy to live with Silco as a brother, but he didn’t know what was waiting for them if he ever allowed himself to analyze his own feelings.

Because of this, and completely unaware of the pain he was causing, Vander uttered that seemingly harmless word that Silco couldn’t stand anymore.

Brother.

The softness in his tone didn’t make it any less devastating. The pain in his eyes, as he knew how badly he was breaking Silco's heart, didn’t make it easier to hear.

The countless "I love you"s he pronounced after that, reassuring that even if it was not the same feeling, Silco was still one of the most important people in his life didn’t soothe the agony of his reopened wound.

None of that mattered.

Because he didn't feel the same as Silco.

The same word that once had been forced on them was now stronger than anything he had built together.

Silco didn't want to feel that pain, he couldn't allow it to stay inside his chest, not when it was so profound.

So he decided to leave The Last Drop. It would be only for a couple of days, to distance himself a little from the source of his pain and try to stitch close that damned cut.

During that time, alone and completely heartbroken, he focused on thinking of ways to achieve the goal they had been fighting for since they were teenagers. The Zaunite revolution and Zaun’s independence. He ignored his pain and used all his anger to plan their next move in their fight against Piltover, thinking of new ways to finally defeat their enemy.

It was during those days, blinded by the pain of his aching heart, that he understood they could only win against Piltover if they showed their true nature to the world. He knew by then that they needed to be more aggressive in their methods and destabilize, not only their government, but also their peace.

Let their own people know what monsters they had for leaders.

Let the people of Piltover suffer the same pain they had suffered since the very moment the City of Progress came to be.

The fight had turned into a way for him to forget his own suffering, and in his anguish, provoking pain to others stopped feeling wrong at all if that meant they could get closer to their goal of freedom.

It was at this point where the conflict with Vander started. Suddenly, the word "brothers" didn't quite fit them anymore, it seemed too caring for them. Now it was a word pronounced in a low voice, and when it was Silco the one saying it, his tone could only express disgust. He rolls his eyes as if the word was some sort of sick joke he hated to voice out loud, a reminder of what could never be.

Silco’s pain is a heavy weight preventing them both from going back to what they once had, and seeing this wounded Vander every single time his friend reminded him of his rejection. This, and how differently they started to approach their fight, made them step further and further away from the other.

And when they saw each other during important meetings, Silco threw the word “brother” extremely carelessly, always with the intention to wound Vander instead of calming him and expressing how much he still loved him.

It had turned into a word that neither of them could ever forget, and that would hunt Silco until the end of his days.

It had turned into a word that neither of them could ever forget, and that would hunt Silco until the end of his days.

[There's still a lot of resentment in Silco's expression, and in this scene before saying brother, Silco rolls his eyes. The man was PISSED]

In conclusion, I think "brother" was Silco and Vander's equivalent of Jayvik's "partner" and I bet Viktor was pissed as hell everytime he heard someone reffering to him as Jayce's partner AND JUST THAT, for both scientific pride and his hopeless crush on Jayce Talis.

[notafunkiller]

we found wonderland

Summary: You have a choice to make: you either set yourself free or continue to play the game.

Pairing: (fake) boyfriend’s brother!Bucky Barnes x female reader

Warnings: 18+, age gap (r is 26, Bucky is 39), teasing, dirty talk, unprotected séx (but she is on the pill), pet names, daddy kínk, language, implied aftercare, no mention of y/n

Word Count: 2.4K

story masterlist

Bucky Barnes masterlist

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this mini-series! Thank you for reading!

Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!

You had decided you should wait for a week before making your relationship public, using that time to try to convince your parents to change their mind while Bucky plays pretend with his. It’s not an ideal situation, but he understands, keeping the truth to himself.

What he can’t keep to himself is his hands. Not that you can… but as soon as he comes home, he’s all over you, not even caring you are in the living room sometimes.

Acting like you’re just friendly is very hard for you. You want to touch and kiss him like crazy. Having sex with him changed the game, and now you try your hardest to find a way out of this deal so you can be in this relationship completely.

You laugh at the way he pouts. “You’re really adorable for an old man.”

“Is it so crazy I want us together?”

You melt, leaning in to kiss his chin. “That’s not crazy, baby, but isn’t that a little fast?”

“We’ve been living together for months now. What’s the difference?”

You wish you could find the right words to explain it. It’s quite scary and exciting, but it feels strange. “We’ve been together for a couple of days. Maybe we don’t…”

“Are you thinking of a break up already?”

You jump immediately. “No! Maybe we don’t have things figured out enough yet. And by we I mean me. I won’t have a job anymore if my parents don’t change their minds. I won’t have a real home. I won’t have anything but you. And I love every moment I spend with you, but I want something of my own, and I definitely don’t want to feel like a burden even if you don’t make me feel like that. My life is a mess.”

“And I want to help. I am not trying to control you or suggest something you don’t want, but we are friends, too, not just a couple. I am here for you. You can stay with me as a friend if not as a boyfriend. I want you safe.”

You say nothing, only staring at him for a while. You don’t even know what to say because the mix of emotions you feel is confusing.

“You know what I want?”

“What?”

“I want to fuck you right now.” You don’t try to hide your neediness as you place your hands on his shorts. “Can I, baby? Can I ride you?”

“Fuck, you’re gonna kill me before I turn forty. Is this your plan? Do you want me gone?” He’s already raising his ass so he can help you take off his shorts quicker.

“I want you with me always. Want you inside me so badly.”

He groans at your tone. “Then go for it, baby, take whatever you want. It’s all yours. I’m all yours.”

You smile eagerly seeing his hard cock, and lift his T-shirt. You cannot stand anything between your bodies right now. You just need to feel him. “God, we should go to the bedroom, but I can’t wait.”

You take off your underwear, unable to wait any longer. As if someone is holding a knife to your throat, and if you don’t get Bucky inside you in the next seconds, you’re gonna die.

“Anyone can walk in,” he says as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. He probably even enjoys it. “Can you imagine their faces?”

You snort, bringing his dick to your entrance without hesitation after spreading your legs further apart. “No, but I can imagine yours when you come.”

“You don’t need to imagine. You’re gonna see it up close if you hurry up.”

Neither of you even realize you’re not using a condom for the first time until it’s too late and you’re already sliding down.

Your grasp on his shoulders is so forceful, you’re sure it will leave a mark, as you moan his name.

“James…” You desperately look at him, wanting to see if he feels the same. “We’re not using anything.”

“I c-can feel that.”

“God damn it, James,” you sound like you’re scolding him, but in reality you are just overwhelmed.

“What did I… fucking hell, I am totally not getting to turn forty. I will die tonight.”

You ask with your eyes closed. “Do you want me to get a condom?”

“No, I want to die.” He groans, already in a different space. “Unless you want to… I am clean and you are, of course, and I can pull out, but like it’s not… I can go grab a condom right now.”

You immediately shake your head, placing your hand on his chest. He’s not gonna do that. He has to make you come.

“You are not going anywhere, you get out of me and I’ll die!”

“So you’re ovulating?” He asks casually, with a playful grin spread across his face.

You chuckle, hitting him in the shoulder. 

“Yes, I am, and you gotta take care of me.”

Bucky groans, grabbing your ass, unable to keep his hands off you. You’re so hot and warm. “You’re really, really wet, princess.”

“Ihm.” You slide down further, almost taking all of his cock. “Look how deep I took you now.” You moan proudly, feeeling so stretched like this. “Look at this, daddy.”

And when he lets his eyes drop to your entrance, he has no idea how he doesn’t com right then. The sight is incredible.

“Baby…”

“I’m your baby, daddy.” You quickly take off your T-shirt at the same time you move your hips. As soon as he’s naked, you grab your breasts, holding them together with a smirk. You know that is going to affect him, and it makes you feel powerful.

“Oh God,” he groans as you bring your breasts closer to his mouth.

“Come on, daddy, go ahead.”

It’s all he needs to hear before he takes your right nipple into his mouth and the left one between his fingers. Riding him like this is a little difficult, but it’s not impossible. You love getting your breasts played with, and he loves doing it.

There is also something really hot and thrilling about the possibility of getting caught. You have no idea why and how, but you’re going to enjoy this as much as you can.

“You feel so good like this, nothing between us. Nothing between your come and me,” you moan, not even thinking about what you say.

“You can’t say that and expect me to be strong.”

That makes you laugh. “I’m on the pill, though, you don’t have to be strong.”

“Fucking hell, you’re gonna drive me crazy.” He starts to thrust his hips back so he can meet you halfway. Riding him feels so, so good. You got him deeper, and the lack of a condom makes you properly feel his thickness.

“You feel so… Fuck, your cock is filling me just the way I need it.” You grab his shoulders so you can move faster. “You’re such a good daddy, let-letting me use you right here, where everyone could see us.”

“You love using daddy’s cock.” He looks so drunk, in so much pleasure. “Such a naughty girl.”

“I’m your naughty girl, James.”

“All mine.” His hands on your hips help you move faster indeed, and you’re already so close you can barely keep your eyes open.

“F-faster.”

Bucky stops thrusting his hips back, and you groan. You need more.

“If you want it faster, keep your eyes on me, pretty girl.”

“I c-can’t-” As much as you want to fight this, your eyes instinctively close again. “Ss-so close.”

He can hear your desperation and without hesitating, he brings his hand into your hair and pulls unexpectedly hard. That’s enough for you to come loud. So loud you can hear yourself as you let the pleasure consume every bit of you.

But Bucky doesn’t stop moving his hips, making your orgasm last longer. He’s saying things, probably dirty things, in your ear, but you can’t understand anything. Your ears are still ringing.

And just like that, Bucky comes too, with his right hand still wrapped around your hair while the left one is digging into the skin of your hip.

“Fuck, I’m coming inside you, baby, can you feel it? Can you feel me filling your pussy, baby?”

“Ihm,” you can barely whisper, too overwhelmed by everything.

“Whose come?”

“Y-yours.”

“Good girl.” He groans as soon as he finishes coming, wrapping his arms around your waist and hugging you. “This feels like heaven.”

“I don’t think I can go back to wearing a condom now. I mean if you want to…”

“Are you sure? We can still use one just to make sure we are safer.”

You peck him. “We can still use it, don’t worry, I get it. Looking out for me and stuff.”

He lets out a deep breath, thankful you understand what he means.

“Of course I am looking out for you, that’s my job.”

“Job? You are my daddy, not my mom or dad.”

“I am your partner and your friend. I will always look out for you.”

A sudden urge to fuck him again takes over your body, but before you can do it, your phone starts ringing.

Bucky gives you the phone without moving, and when you both see it’s his brother, you groan.

“Hi, William.” You try to sound as normal as possible, but your voice is so raspy it’s impossible.

“Hey, gonna be home in a few minutes. Are you okay? Is Bucky home yet?”

“Ihm, he came.” You wink at James. “All good here. See you.”

You don’t wait for him to answer before you’re hanging up.

“You came too.”

You giggle immediately. It’s hard not to be around Bucky; he is goofy at the right time. “We need to clean up, though, he’s close.”

“Alright.”

*

Your parents didn’t want to listen to you at all. You didn’t have the chance to talk at the party since they’re avoiding you at all costs, and you had to go outside not to cry in front of everyone. You don’t just feel alone and treated like shit, you feel humiliated.

You’re lucky Bucky went to pick up William because his car broke down halfway here, so he didn’t actually witness your breakdown. You know he’d have done something about it. Something you should.

At this point, what do you really have?

“Hey, are you well? Why are you outside, it’s freezing?”

Bucky’s voice makes you jump as he’s suddenly by your side, rubbing your arms. William is right behind him.

“Baby, why are you outside?”

You see Bucky rolling his eyes, and you sigh.

“I wanted some fresh air, William.” You turn toward Bucky before taking a step back. You don’t want him to think you reject his touch. You really need his hug, but it’s not about what you need. “We should go inside.”

He nods, and all three of you make your way close to the improvised stage in the main room.

It’s crazy how many people actually came; it almost feels suffocating.

Your parents have been talking for a while, you assume, because people were animated. You wonder what they promised them.

“And since we’re all here now, I have something to announce,” Bucky’s dad takes the microphone all of a sudden, and William sighs. You want to ask him what is going on since he looks nervous, but you don’t have time to. “I want to invite my son, William, on the stage with us.”

And then he calls your name.

You look at both of your parents, trying to understand why you’d be needed there, and Bucky is just as confused as you are. Everyone starts clapping, and you find yourself dragged on the stage before you can protest.

“Tonight marks a very special moment for us both: professionally and personally.” You freeze, looking at Bucky instantly, but he’s also shocked, shaking his head. “A partnership that will last for a long time, hopefully, passed to a real-life partnership that has developed over the last months.”

William smiles proudly when his dad pats him on the back, and you want to throw up right then.

You turn your head to your parents, who display the fakest smiles you’ve ever seen. They don’t care about what you want. About what you need. Either way, you’re alone, and you cannot continue to play their game. You can’t!

And before anyone can stop you, you’re basically running down the stairs, straight toward Bucky. You quickly wrap your hand around his neck and force him to lean in so you can properly kiss him. You sense his surprise, but you don’t stop, using the opportunity to shamelessly kiss him in front of the whole company, including your parents. He’s yours, and everyone should know it.

He cups your face when you break off the kiss to breathe, and you smile.

You finally did it! You’re free.

You don’t need to turn around to know how upset your families must be. Everyone around you is either gasping or whispering around. You know they’ll be talking about this for a solid week at least, but you’re not gonna be there to hear. You won’t explain anything to them, and they can consider you a cheater who fucked the other brother all they want. It is not your mess to fix. You just want to leave.

“Let’s get out of here,” you whisper, taking his hand. All you want is to eat something and suck him off. “I need to pack my stuff.”

“Are you sure?” He asks concerned as you start to walk toward the exit. Neither of you turns when William calls your names.

“I have never been more sure in my entire life.”

He says nothing as you reach his car, lifting the hand he’s been holding closer to his lips so he can brush a tender kiss against the back of it.

You’re going to be okay.

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