#The house was a pain in the ass to draw. If you could not tell it is the haunted house from Creepy Creatures!!

[shaunamilfman]

turning into something you are not

pairing: Shauna Shipman x f!reader Summary: You end up on house arrest after Shauna spits in your soup, no thanks to stupid Mari. It's not like you want Shauna Shipman, of all people, to be on your ass. So you come up with the well-thought-out idea of visiting her hut in the middle of the night to apologize. No ulterior motives at all. Smut ensues. note: minors dni. spitting involved.

You eye Shauna anxiously as she walks toward you with the rest of the losers from today's game, something settling heavily in your chest as you realize she's coming straight toward where you're sitting. You curse your luck: of course you would end up getting Shipman to serve your food personally. A part of you wonders if Shauna has done it on purpose, but you decide that it's probably more humiliating for her than it is terrifying for you. 

Just about anything has been setting her off lately, and the throbbing pain from the bite on your hand reminds you succinctly of that. You remember from school just how nasty human bites could be–just how much bacteria is in the human mouth. It would serve you right to die from an infection garnered from Shauna Shipman's mouth after surviving nearly a year in this hellhole. 

Your heartbeat starts to settle as Shauna stops beside you, a broody look on her face that doesn't look any different from normal. That is until she holds the bowl out, making sure you can see her as she spits into your food. You almost gasp, just barely able to keep the reaction from becoming audible.

“Go ahead,” Shauna adds, a dangerous look that almost makes you want to push just to see what she would do. “Just give me a reason.”

You look down at the bowl she sits in front of you in surprise, not expecting her to do something so public. With the way Mari sits forward in her seat, you can already tell that she’s taken notice. Which, arguably, was the worst possible thing that could have happened to you today. You grab the bowl, fully intending on just eating it spit and all, but Mari isn’t going to let that happen.

“What the fuck? Shauna just spit in her food,” Mari points out loudly, drawing the attention of all the other girls. 

God, she was such a shit stirrer. 

Your eyes widen, and you rapidly shake your head at Mari. Almost pleadingly. It doesn't seem to matter if she even notices your protests. Shauna certainly doesn't. Mari keeps grouping you in with her lately. Just because you weren't on Shauna's side doesn't mean you were on Mari's. For fuck’s sake, she was going to get your ass kicked. 

“Jesus Christ. Shauna, did you spit in her food?” Nat asks exasperatedly. 

“What? No,” Shauna lies. 

Someone should tell her she wasn't good at that. You were almost embarrassed for her at how painfully thin her voice sounded. She might as well have just confessed. 

“The fact that you even think I would is insulting.”

“You should eat,” Shauna says quietly, in that soft yet deadly tone of hers. It's more unsettling than if she had actually screamed at you instead. “I worked hard to make it.”

Mari reaches across the table and smacks it out of your hand, leaving you to watch it fall in what feels like slow motion. 

You look down at the ground mournfully. It doesn't even matter that Shauna had spit in it. You were still willing to eat it. It's not like you'd find food anywhere else. How quickly Mari seems to have forgotten that awful winter. 

Shauna immediately tenses up, and her lack of access to Mari across the table means that you're the one who ends up face-first on the ground with a mouthful of dirt and what used to be your dinner. 

“I said eat, bitch,” she hisses in your ear before being pulled off, leaving you to stumble back onto your feet as some of the other girls help you up. Your eyes are wide as you look back at an enraged Shauna Shipman, face smeared with dirt and food. 

You spit dirt out of your mouth absently, trying to get the taste out. All it serves to do is anger Shauna again as she lunges at you, held back only by the grip the other girls have on her as you stumble back and away. You open your mouth to stutter out an apology and an excuse because you really did not need this right now, but the glare Nat gives you silences you before it can come out. 

“I've fucking had it with this shit! Starting tomorrow, you're both on house arrest,” Nat says, glancing between the two of them meaningfully. 

You barely notice Mari storming off, too busy wiping dirt off of your face. 

“You know what?” Nat pauses, looking over at you. “You too, actually.” 

You just sigh. 

How has this become your life?

Locking Shauna away in her hut? She was going to come kill you in your sleep. You wouldn't even see it coming. All your friends would be out looking for you when you went missing and would be completely unaware that Shauna probably fed you to them to hide the evidence. 

You were fucked. 

… 

You wait until you're sure the rest of the girls in your hut have fallen asleep before you creep up and out. Both because you're not technically allowed to leave and because you know they would try to talk you out of what you're sure is a monumentally stupid idea. But it's the best one you've got. 

Show up to Shauna's hut, try to apologize, and probably get roughed up a little. At least it would probably get her off your ass afterward, if you looked pathetic enough. Shauna didn't tend to bother the more passive girls, tending not to find any joy in trying to break their spirits. Maybe if she got it out of her system, then you could sleep soundly for the next few nights before you inevitably pissed her off again.

All you have to do is walk in and try to explain–

Oh shit.

She was already up on her feet and coming toward you before you even managed to take more than a step into her hut, almost like she was waiting for you. Not even just waiting for you. Hoping, probably. What was it she said to you earlier? Just give me a reason. It seems like you’ve definitely done it now.

“Wait–” you try, but Shauna doesn’t care to listen as she lunges out for you. You’re already expecting her fist to make contact with the side of your face, so you’re pleasantly surprised when she just grabs onto your arm.

Shauna holds on tightly to your wrist, her thumb digging in hard enough that a whimper of pain escapes your lips and your knees buckle. The look of sheer glee that crosses her face tells you exactly what she thinks of that little reaction. 

“You’ve got some fucking nerve, showing up here.”

“I just wanted to apologize.”

“Apologize?” She asks angrily. “You came here in the middle of the night, while I was probably sleeping, to apologize?”

“It sounds stupid now that you say it like that,” you acknowledge with a nervous laugh. Shauna doesn’t laugh with you.

“Why the hell are you here?” She asks again.

“Maybe I wanted to… give you a reason.”

You don’t realize how true the words are until they leave your lips, and the momentary flash of surprise that crosses your face is as genuine as Shauna’s.

“Shauna–” 

“Don't fucking speak to me,” she hisses through gritted teeth, shoving you back into the walls of her shelter hard enough that the whole thing wobbles precariously. 

You look around anxiously, terrified the structure will collapse down on top of you. There's no way that scenario doesn't end with Shauna beating your ass in the wreckage. That's if you were as lucky as Lottie. After what happened last winter, Shauna was more likely to end up serving you for dinner. 

“You're fucking nothing to me,” she continues, stalking toward you. 

You nod quickly, hands held up in some gesture of appeasement that only seems to set Shauna off again as she grabs you by the collar of your shirt to send you sprawling onto the cold, uneven ground as all the air in your lungs rushes out with a pained huff. 

It has been par for the course of what you have been expecting so far. There was something about the look in Shauna's eye that unsettles you, something that you aren't sure you've seen before. You consider just going limp and lying on the ground, but then you remember how many times Shauna had kicked Lottie in the side, and that gets you moving again. 

You start scrambling up onto your knees, but Shauna's too quick for that, settling onto the back of your thigh and pinning your arms behind your back before you manage to get any leverage. 

It's humiliating to be pinned like this, face down in the dirt with your arms held behind your back. You buck your hips frantically trying to get her off, even resorting to try squirming out from under her, but nothing works until you hear her little grunt. 

You still immediately, unsure of what caused it and afraid she's going to hurt you for accidentally kicking her or something. It's not like you're unaware of how vulnerable you are right now, so unprepared to fight back if she decides that she's going to hurt you more. 

“Stupid bitch,” Shauna taunts, sitting firm on your thigh. “Stay fucking still.” She squeezes your wrists painfully in reminder, making you freeze beneath her. 

Slowly, enough that you wonder for a moment if the action was unconscious or not, Shauna rolls her hips down against the back of your thigh. When you don't immediately protest, she tries her luck again, another slow roll like she's testing the waters. 

“Shauna,” you murmur, turning your head to rest your cheek against the dirt as you go limp beneath her. 

It's terrifying to let yourself be so prone on your stomach with Shauna around, knowing she could take advantage of it at any second. But the little sounds that leave her lips and the feeling of just how warm she is above you convince you to let yourself do something reckless. 

How long has it been since you've had this kind of contact? Something not out of necessity or violence. Something out of nothing more than desire. 

How long had it been for her? 

You try to look back at her, but Shauna growls under her breath, and you let your eyes fall back to the side of her hut. She starts humping the back of your thigh in earnest now, her knee bumping into your other leg and forcing it wider to accommodate her stance. It's not questioning, not even tentative. It's a command to move your fucking leg. And you do, without question. 

Back and forth and back and forth until the feeling of her sweatpants rubbing against your thigh turns into a wet glide. Shauna fumbles her grip on your arms, finally wrenching them up to pin them on the ground so she can get a better angle.

She's not trying to muffle her ragged breathing so much as she's trying to stop something louder from coming out. Something needy that girls might be able to hear just one hut over. 

The huts had given you some measure of secrecy that the cabin never could, but there was no real privacy out here. Shauna's hut, the one that belonged only to her, was the closest place you could get. 

There was no doubt in your mind that if Shauna got even a bit louder, then everyone else would know what you were doing. You weren't entirely opposed to the idea. The part of you that would've been horrified to be heard like this died in the plane crash. Now, the thought of everyone knowing you were in here with Shauna was thrilling. Beyond even just the protection that it would give you with the other girls. 

No one wanted to piss off Shauna Shipman. 

You would like to say that the whole thing had been strategic, but you've really stumbled into the whole thing. And that was if you managed to survive the encounter. That was still up in the air. 

She bites down hard where your neck meets your shoulder, making you cry out even as you try to stifle it. It's like you can feel every individual tooth as it tears into your skin, quickly making you realize how playful that bite on your hand had been in comparison. Shauna grinds her teeth from left to right, making you shudder as it brings tears to your eyes. 

Shauna sounds feral. Fucking you like a wild animal while you're prone on your belly and exposing your neck to a predator. It's enough of a rush for you that you know it must be driving her fucking insane. She pulls away just enough to talk threateningly into your ear. 

“I could kill you, you know,” Shauna says, her voice heavy from exertion. It doesn't seem to slow her hips down any. “Put my knife right through you and tell them you came to my hut and attacked me.“

You tense up at the words, and Shauna moans as it gives her a sturdier surface to grind against. 

Stabbing a person in the back with a thigh soaked with your arousal. The most obvious self-defense case you've ever seen. That, in combination with how obvious she was lying about spitting in your food, almost makes you laugh. But you manage to choke it down with the knowledge that she might actually kill you if you do. 

“Fuck, just like that,” she mutters distractedly, like the threat was already forgotten. 

At a loss for anything better to do when pinned to the floor, you keep your muscles as tense as you can. Shauna doesn’t bite you again, so you decide to take your wins where you can find them. 

Almost unbidden, your eyes fall to the corner of her hut where her knife lies almost inconspicuously. It’s just barely within reach if you could manage to shake her arms long enough to lunge for it, close enough that you could probably manage to reach it with the tips of your fingers. One of the benefits–or downsides, when you share with three other girls–is that almost anything within the huts is in reach.

Despite how distracted she seems, it doesn’t take her long to notice where your attention lies. She laughs against the curve of your shoulder, nipping at the skin almost playfully. If you didn’t know how hard her jaw could snap down, of course.

“Are you thinking about it?” She asks, digging her nails into your wrists. Shauna sounds like she thinks it’s funny.

You don’t answer, knowing there’s no real way to placate her. If you say no she will just call you a liar, if you say yes… Well, you aren’t in a hurry to find out.

“You’re no fun,” she says, almost to herself, but the tense moment passed almost as quickly as it began.

Her teeth graze your jaw again, a promise more than a threat. Shauna doesn’t speed up or slow down, maintaining that steady drag like she has all the time in the world. She’s not threatened. Why would she be? Her breath is coming out quicker now, short little gasps as she nears the edge she’s been chasing.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she murmurs, a sigh that sounds suspiciously whiny falling from her lips as her hips slowly come to a stop. You can hear her breathing heavily above you, her hands holding on tightly to the back of your arms.

“Shauna?” You question hesitantly as the silence starts to edge on uncomfortable.

She huffs loudly, the sound sharp with misplaced anger and frustration. You can feel her weight shift on top of you, but she can't seem to find words angry enough to express herself with. Finally, she straightens up to glare down at the back of your head. You can't see her, of course, but you can almost feel her burning anger. 

“Don't fucking move,” she warns. 

Shauna slowly lets go of your arms, watching you like an animal ready to strike as she sits up to fumble her way out of her sweatpants. You don't dare to do more than flex your fingers as you lie in wait. You're afraid to move your arms when her location is up in the air. It could be anywhere, and you've seen how effectively she can gut things. 

“Now you want to be a good listener?” She asks from somewhere behind you. She clearly isn't expecting an answer, but you couldn't help yourself. 

“Shauna, I didn't–”

“And you were doing so good.”

You tense at the words and at the way Shauna starts to enter your field of vision as she moves closer. Her face is just barely visible, her eyes blown in a mix of rage and sheer arousal. For a brief moment you allow yourself the luxury of sneaking a peek down past Jackie's shirt that she hadn't bothered to take off to the bare skin of her thighs. 

But you don't get long to really enjoy the view. 

“Too good to eat my fucking food,” she mutters, leaning closer to press something into your mouth. “Eat this instead.” 

It's dark enough that it takes you a moment to feel out what it is, a blush rising to your cheeks as you realize she's stuffed her panties in your mouth. Your head feels foggy at the realization, almost lightheaded from the experience. Or maybe that was the way you struggled to breathe, every breath short and sharp as you struggled to get your lungs to fully expand. 

Shauna grabs on tightly to your arm, wrenching it around to flip you onto your back like it was nothing. 

You stare up at her dazedly, only to be met by the sight of her fierce glare. As if it was your fault that she couldn't fuck herself properly with the back of your thigh. She settles down into your lap, thighs spread wide to keep you pinned as she leans forward to plant a hand on your shoulder to brace her weight. 

Shauna holds eye contact with you as she spits on the palm of your hand, smirking when you tense in surprise. She brings your hand between her legs, sighing when you make contact. God, is she wet. It shouldn't surprise you with everything that's happened since you entered her hut, but you still find yourself gasping at the warmth of her as you slide two fingers home. 

She clenches around you immediately, like she's just been waiting for it all night. As soon as you start to thrust your fingers, she moves along with them, matching the rhythm the best she can and digging her thumb into your shoulder warningly when she decides she would rather you match hers. It's not like you care, not when you get to watch the way the muscles in her thighs flex with each move. 

You almost forget how to breathe as you look up at her, watching every flicker of pleasure that crosses her face faster than she can quench them. It's a subtle thing with how hard she's trying to suppress it, but a little twitch of her mouth is all it takes to give her away when you're scrutinizing her so closely. 

Shauna surrounds you. 

Her weight on top of you, her body so solid and immovable despite the nearly a year you've been starving. Her scent filling the air, the familiar smell of dirt and animal blood and something uniquely Shauna that you've grown so used to in your time in the wilderness. The wet heat of her wrapped around your fingers and pressed against your lap, a warmth that's more than welcome in the chill of the night air. Then there's the taste in your mouth as your tongue brushes the wet fabric of her panties. There's nowhere to go beneath her, pinned as thoroughly as you are. Nothing to think about but her. 

Just how Shauna likes it. 

You can feel even more of the warmth of her pressed against you as she leans forward, body trembling with adrenaline and something else as she seeks out more contact. You have to adjust the angle of your hand, which Shauna doesn't appreciate until she does. Letting out a little sigh as she rolls her hips down. 

“Couldn't just eat. Had to go get me in trouble with her majesty.” 

So it was your fault now? 

“Who the fuck does Nat think she is?” Shauna doesn't wait for an answer, just continues on mockingly, and ignores the way her breath hitches when you curl your fingers. “I don't want to see either of your faces for a week. Or what?”

You hope the question was rhetorical. It would be just like Shauna to gag you and then get pissed you wouldn't answer. 

The continued angry muttering under her breath assuages that fear, but you don't have much time to think on it as Shauna brings a hand to your face. 

There's a glint in her eye that promises nothing but bad things as she brushes her thumb across your lips, slowly plucking the fabric of her panties and pulling them free. You lick your lips nervously, trying to soothe the dryness of your mouth now that they're gone. 

“Open your mouth,” Shauna commands, and you do so with more than a little hesitance. She hooks her thumb over your bottom teeth, just enough to keep your jaw open as she looms over you. Slowly, taking her time so that you have to watch helplessly, she tilts her head down and parts her lips. She doesn’t spit–nothing as simple as that. Instead, she just lets a thin, glistening string of saliva fall from her mouth to land squarely on your tongue. It’s warm and wet and so unbearably intimate.

You jerk away almost instinctively, but Shauna clenches her thighs tightly around your hips and digs her fingers into your jaw to keep you right where she wants you. Her eyes glance down, watching the way her saliva sits on your tongue and mixes with your own.

“Swallow,” she commands, voice sharp. Your cheeks burn red as you do, struggling for a moment to do so with your mouth held so far open.

She nods slowly, this time just spitting into your open. Her head tilts to the side like she’s studying you, and she seems pleased when you swallow without being asked this time.

“Good.” Her voice is low, gravelly in a way that makes you squirm as she traces her thumb across your jaw. ”Now, hold onto this for me.”

This time, as her spit reaches your tongue, you do nothing. You don’t jerk, you don’t flinch, you just keep your mouth open wide as the string of saliva lands. She leans close enough to kiss you, breath brushing hot against your lips, but she just pulls away again with a pleased hum.

You think she might say something else, but all she does is let go of your jaw to press two of her fingers in your mouth. She doesn't push, doesn't even try to choke you like you were prepared for. Just rests the weight of them on your tongue as she watches the way your lips close around them.

Shauna starts riding your fingers in earnest now, fast enough that you struggle to keep up with her. God, could she fucking move. You knew from watching her on the field, and lately from watching her in the chase, but it was something else to witness it while two knuckles deep. 

Her thighs tremble with the effort of it, but a part of you suspects she's still holding back. The squelching sound fills the air, loud and unmistakable in its simplicity. There's no doubt in your mind that everyone knew what you were doing if they hadn't already pieced it together from the sounds leaving Shauna's lips. She wasn't quiet or shy like you might have shamefully imagined her being before the crash. 

It was like the thought of shame never even crossed her mind. 

Maybe after a very public birth and subsequent well-deserved crash out, little things like all of your former teammates knowing you're getting fucked one hut over don't register as much in your mind. 

You can tell by the way she's clenching around your fingers that she's getting close, but if Shauna's aware of it, she doesn't acknowledge it. Even when your thumb presses against her clit to rub quick little circles, the only response you get is a sharp intake of breath as she presses into the touch. 

It's different now that you can watch her start to fall apart. Different now that you're actually participating instead of just letting her use you as a means to an end. You hadn't minded, obviously, but you much prefer to watch the way her eyes slip shut as her head starts to tilt back. 

When Shauna comes, it's violent, thighs snapping around your waist as a loud cry tears itself from her lips. Tears was the right word, as it sounded like it cost Shauna something as it came out. Pride, maybe. Or something else entirely. 

Either way, Shauna looked wrecked as she lazily rode out the last of it–eyes almost black as she stared down at you. 

… 

You stare up at the ceiling of her hut after everything's said and done, slick with sweat and short of breath. Shauna hasn't said anything in a while, just silently rolled off, and laid down. 

Turning on your side, you sneak a glance over at Shauna, whose eyes are already closed. You slowly reach over to rest your arm over her hip, starting to draw it away as Shauna tenses. She grabs at your arm with her hand, saying nothing but not allowing you the chance to pull away. You hold your breath as you scoot closer, but Shauna doesn't comment one way or another. 

That's the closest to an invitation you're going to get. 

[doink-boink]

DRAWTOBER DAY 29 - HAUNTED HOUSE

[pineapple-downside-up-cake]

TF!141 when reader has a migraine:

Soap is loud. He knows he's loud, you know he's loud, and even when he's trying to be quiet, this smoking ball of energy makes waves in the house. Normally it's not a problem, but every now and again, well...

You love him, but if you thought you could punch him without vomiting right now, you probably would. He's affable, doesn't take too much offense when you cut him off mid-rant. He hits you with one of those sympathetic "ach, hen"s after, the ones that usually make you all bubbly, but the best you can give him is a smile that comes out more like a cringe.

You go lay down and eventually you fall asleep - Soap must have disappeared because the house is quiet. Four hours later you wake up and it's dark, Soap poking his head in the room - he's brought you curry from your favorite Indian place down the road.

Gaz isn't going to hold your hand, because he knows you don't like it. He gets wanting to be left to wallow in your pain until it's over, and he doesn't need you to reassure him that you aren't going to die on his watch.

It was, however, your turn to cook and do dishes. But he's not going to hold it against you - he makes soup and leaves some in the fridge for when you're ready, takes out the trash, and folds the laundry (which didn't need doing until tomorrow, but Gaz loves you in practical ways.)

Even the bathroom is spotless when you've at last respawned, and when you're ready to be human again, it's almost like you didn't lose a whole day at all. Gaz is never phased, never brings it up later to tally the scores. Just calmly accepts that it's part and parcel of being with you.

Ghost is watching telly when you come in, feeling half-dead, and he greets you with a wave and a 'hey'. He's probably got a plate full of snacks next to him and a book he was going to read before the game started that he hasn't opened yet.

When you tell him you're having a shit day and it feels like your brains are melting, he lets you kick off your shoes and faceplant into his lap. This man doesn't. make. a dick joke. Not a single one, just lets you close your eyes and bury your face in his stomach, where you fall asleep.

He turns the volume down on the match, and you wake up to him passed out on the couch. He hasn't moved an inch, didn't want to wake you... but he saved you a biscuit.

Price is ON it. He's got a whole ass go bag for you and your unpredictable medical situations. They say the best way to combat uncertainty is by being prepared, and he's ready for anything from anaphylactic shock to childbirth. (You aren't expecting, but it's sweet anyway.)

He was planning to work on a project in the garage, but you're looking so sad even after he's given you migraine meds, he changes his mind. He shuts off the lights and crawls into bed next to you to cuddle because it sounds like a better deal for him, anyway.

When you're feeling up to moving again, this secure ass man draws you a bubble bath. He sits behind you so you don't accidentally drown in the too big tub and shampoos your hair while he's at it, a nice gentle headmassage he definitely didn't pick up in the military.

[hanjisick]

Orders.

genre. mafia au. bodyguard!lee know x fem!reader

desc. your father is an elite, high ranking official in a mafia family. after your first kidnapping, a bodyguard was hired to ensure your safety.

warnings. nsfw. fingering & sex. torture. kidnapping. murder. violence.

wc. 10k

✉️ : this is my first writing after a 9 month hiatus. i apologize for the unannounced break and i will be answering and writing again shortly. enjoy! :)

You sit in a wooden chair, wheezing and thrashing from days of sleep deprivation and torment. Your body aches, wrists bruised and bloody from the ropes, and you almost feel like giving in and spilling Daddy’s secrets— allowing them to kill you and the family.

But you knew better than that. You knew that you'd be saved.

The gunshots and cries for help weren't unexpected from above the dark bunker.

With an ear-piercing creak, the door swings open and the shadow of a man emerges through the doorstep, shoes squeaking with fresh blood underneath.

He doesn’t let out a single word as he kneels to grab your face and examine it. Your attention follows the ring on his finger. An insignia that he is part of the family. You can depend on him.

But still, you wince, sharply inhaling as his fingers aggravate your wounds.

“Don’t get their blood in my wounds, I don’t know what kind of freaks they are,” You grumble, voice husky from days of screaming.

You let him turn your head, retaining eye contact with the floor as you grit your teeth.

“Relax,” he mumbles, “I don’t bite.”

He leans closer to examine your wounds. “You took a lot of hits. How many people are here?”

He draws back as you reply, “Can’t tell you exactly.”

“About four of them grabbed me while I was leaving the house— stupid on their part, no wonder you were here so shortly,” You trail off before catching yourself back on topic.

“But I’ve only seen three different men since I’ve been here. Only to beat me and interrogate me. Don’t worry, I didn’t say anything to put Daddy at risk.”

“I heard two other unrecognizable voices. That would make nine people in the building that I know of. Of course, there could always be more. How many did you shoot?”

“Six,” he responds before looking down at your scrapes and wounds again.

You feel him caress your cheek once more, his cold skin sending shivers down your spine.

“You’re in bad shape.”

“If there’s more here, we need to get out as soon as possible. We can worry about my wounds as soon as these people aren’t on our ass.”

You struggle in your bounds, the ropes burning your already bloody wrists, “Could you untie me, first?”

“Don’t move.”

You obey his command, halting as he unties the ropes, uncovering the painful burn marks and blisters.

“That fucking hurt,” you rotate your wrists, “I could’ve gotten out without your help eventually, though.” Your voice is rough, breath coming out in harsh, sharp drags.

“Sure, you would’ve.”

You stumble to your feet as he pulls you into him for safety. He reeks of gunpowder and high-dollar cologne— presumably something that Daddy has made sure that he has the money for.

“Stay close to me, when we get to the front, you go out first and then I’ll leave right after.”

You follow the unfamiliar man out of the maze, almost slipping on the floor blanketed in blood.

You adjust to the bright sunlight— and it feels gentle against your damaged skin. It seems like time has stood still while you were captured. “Did Daddy order you a car?”

“Yes,” he answers, “Some men are waiting out front to take us to the closest hospital— which isn’t too far.”

“I’m being hospitalized?” You follow him into the backseat, finally slacking for a moment ontop of the fresh leather.

“It’s not my choice to have you taken to the hospital, it’s the orders.”

“Do I have a statement to tell the nurse?” You look at him in concern.

“Am I supposed to say, ‘Oh, I was kidnapped by Daddy’s enemies! By the way, he’s in the mafia! Who wants to arrest Daddy?’”

“Tell them you fell down the stairs.” His flat tone contrasts your own, remaining unfazed.

“How would that cover up my wrists' burn marks?” You hold up the bloody and bruised dents, “Nobody gets these from falling down the stairs. There's way too much blood— and some of it isn’t even mine.”

He raises an eyebrow, looking over to the burn marks on your wrist and then back to you.

“Then tell them you accidentally burnt yourself while cooking.”

“Are you even listening to me? Are you stupid?”

He doesn’t respond for a moment, not seeming to care about the situation.

“It’s not hard to pay them to be silent.”

“How about I tell them that I was heavily bullied at school and a couple of classmates did this to me? I think that could work.”

You two arrive at the front entrance of the emergency room, he follows behind you, strolling through the automatic door.

“I’m fine, really, I was just beaten by classmates,” You lie through your teeth to the front desk, “My boyfriend took me here to get it checked out.”

He raises an eyebrow.

You comply with the nurses as they check your weight and interview you.

“I don’t have any stab wounds, at least I don’t think so— I don’t remember what they did to me. I was held captive for a few,” Your voice trails off as you wince at a sudden pang.

You glance down at your bleeding side and are unexpectedly whacked with all of the distress that you had been repressing at once.

Your vision starts to fade, face pale as a ghost.

The man rushes over as they carry you to a bed, and he kneels beside you to review your condition. Your body is pale and cold, breathing jagged and rapid.

You hear the whispers of the staff panicking. One nurse checks your pulse, and another elevates your legs.

“I need my blood sugar up,” the first words that come out of your mouth sound weak and painful.

You look over at the man beside you.

You need to lie. But you don’t even know his name.

“Boyfriend,” you determine, “please get me a sugary drink from the vending machine.”

A subtle smirk forms upon his lips, but it vanishes as soon as it appears.

“Fine,” he rises to his feet.

You hiss as the nurses sterilize your wounds, shrieking and thrashing on the mattress at the sting. You try to stay still, but the pain is intolerable.

Footsteps echo and you find the man returning with a chocolate bar, which he holds out to you. He brings it close to your lips and holds the chocolate against your mouth for you to take a bite, “Slowly.”

“I told you to get me a drink,” You disregard his command, biting the chocolate quickly, almost aggressively.

His lips turn up, amused by your action.

The nurses finish stitching up your deep gashes and bandaging your wounds, recommending that you stay the night.

“Pay for the bill with Daddy’s cash and let’s get out of here,” you state coldly, “I need to shower and get all of this blood out of my hair. I don’t want to stay here.”

“As long as you can walk by yourself, we can leave right away.” He replies. The man takes out a wad of bills quickly counts the money and pays for the bill.

You stay speechless until entering the car.

“Who are you?”

“I’m your bodyguard. Your father hired me to look out for you after the kidnapping.”

You nod in acknowledgment. “Will you be staying at the estate with me? Or is it a ‘only when I leave the house’ kind of deal?”

“My primary duty is to protect you from anyone or anything that could harm you, whether that be outside or inside the house. I could go wherever you wish me to follow you, and I will be there.”

“You won’t sleep in bed with me though, right?”

He stays silent for a moment.

“You are correct, I am here to protect, nothing more. I will not sleep next to you. I am merely your bodyguard and take your orders.”

“Good boy,” you grin, “I bet Daddy will pay you very nicely. Why else would you take this job? How much does he give you? Either way, I’m sure you have enough to buy a mansion.”

The bodyguard holds back an eye roll. “I will have more than enough money. Not only that but he also provides me with a home.” He adds with a smirk.

“Good.” You reply.

You fall silent, allowing him to drive, taking in the past few days.

You were never worried about surviving, You understood that Daddy would handle it. But you didn’t expect to be as hurt as you were.

He could’ve saved you sooner.

“When we get home, order the chef to make me something sweet, I deserve a treat,” you state, “I’m going to shower and you are not allowed to enter my bathroom under any circumstance. Even if I’m dying.”

“You would die before letting me enter your bathroom? I get it.” He retorts.

Once you both arrive at the estate, you stumble out of the car. You don’t linger for him.

You’re welcomed by a handful of workers as you enter the home, but ignore them as you make a beeline up the stairs and towards the bedroom.

The door locks behind you and the room is silent. You feel the weariness creep on as your wounds sting. You lean against the door, sliding down.

After a moment of peace, you head towards the shower to comb the dried blood out of your hair.

You scrub your face carefully, avoiding the stitches above your eyebrows.

You wash your body entirely, removing the blood stains with soap, water, and a wash rag. Then you comb out the dried blood.

Once you finish, you dry yourself off and dress in a plain, silk nightdress.

Leaving your bedroom, you turn to look for your guard. He is at the doorway of your room when you walk out. His eyes roam around your body for a brief moment, examining the nightgown.

“Do you require assistance?”

“Did you place an order for something sweet, like I asked?” You peer at his suit, moving in to adjust his tie.

He follows your hand as it moves, eyeing you for a few moments before he utters, “I did, the chef will be bringing it to your room once it’s prepared.”

“Good boy.”

You look up at his face once you are pleased with the positioning. You grimace at his sharp, cold face. The blood was dried, brown, and unpleasing. The man’s hand relaxes on the gun holstered on his hip.

“I order you to come into my bedroom.”

His eyebrows crease. He understands his role as your bodyguard— nonetheless, he doesn’t get a kick out of being ordered around in this tone.

He takes a deep breath. “Your wish is my command.”

The room is massive, a silk-covered canopy bed sits in the center of it. He pays no mind to looking around, concentrating on the job at hand.

“Sit down on my bed,” you demand, steering towards the bathroom and pushing open the double doors.

He obeys your orders without question, crossing his legs, and keeping his hand resting beside his gun.

The bodyguard keeps a close, attentive eye on the doors, supervising the way that you soak a washrag with warm water, squeezing out the excess.

You sit beside him, grabbing his chin and leaning into his face. He tenses.

“Relax, I don’t bite,” you smirk, reiterating his first words from the moment he met you back to him, massaging the dried blood off of his face, “No guard of mine will have a messy appearance.”

You can tell that he feels uneasy, but he can’t reject you. If you wish for him to relax, he will make an effort to relax.

You can’t help but notice his complexion when he isn’t scowling. The apathy melts away as you wipe the dried blood, giving you a new perspective on his appearance.

“You’re handsome,” you state bluntly, “Especially without blood covering your face.”

You toss the rag into the laundry basket carelessly, waiting for a maid to take care of it.

“Thank you.”

“What is your name? You never told me.”

His eyebrows arch slightly at the question.“It’s Minho.”

“I am Y/N,” You reply, holding out your hand to shake his own. His grip is firm and warm.

He keeps a stoic face as he glances at your face and back at your hand, as if he is searching for an ulterior motive behind this handshake.

The food.

The bell rings and the sound of it shatters the stillness of the room. Minho’s head jolts towards the door, hand back on his gun.

He rises instantly, opening it to reveal the maid with a tray of sweet snacks.

He takes it from her. “I will bring it in.”

“What a good boy, Minho,” you praise, clapping your hands together as he sets the tray on your lap.

“I don’t take you for a man who enjoys sweet food much. Do you like sweets?”

“Sometimes.”

You unwrap a piece of high-dollar chocolate, “I command you to open your mouth.”

Minho can’t deny you, it would be disobeying your orders.

He opens his mouth as the chocolate is positioned between his lips.

You relish in the chocolates with Minho and once finished, you set the tray on the floor for a maid to pick up at sunrise.

“I don’t think I mind you being around all that much, Daddy makes good decisions.” You lay down on the mattress.

“Your father does make good decisions.”

His gaze wavered on your face until you drifted off to sleep. Only then did they slowly trail down to your body.

The way your body was built captivated him. Minho was glued to your sleeping form.

He stayed in the room, taking a seat on a chair in the corner to watch you.

He didn’t know how long it had been since you had dozed off, but by the way that the room was now pitch black and noiseless aside from your figure rising and falling, he would imagine that it had been a couple of hours.

“How long are you going to sit there?” Your sleep-filled voice questions him, causing him to snap out of his daze, hand reaching for his gun out of instinct.

“Do you sleep? Are you allowed to sleep?”

“I will only remain in the room as long as you order me to. I do sleep,” He replies, “Now is there anything else you need my assistance with? Or can I return to my duties?”

“So you’re only staying in the room because I ordered you two hours ago?” There’s a tinge of dismay in your voice, but it was masked by sleep, “You can leave if you want, I don’t mind.”

Minho felt a sudden pit in his stomach. You sounded disappointed by his statement.

Your words are perplexing him, and he can’t conclude what you want from him. To stay or to go?

“Should I stay for a bit longer?”

You were already asleep again once he had responded.

You and Minho both wake to a maid opening the blinds and ringing a bell. You groan, stretching your body.

“Miss, let’s get you dressed for today.”

She pulls your nightgown up above your head as Minho’s eyes wander toward your laced underwear.

“What’s on my schedule for today?”

He quickly forces his gaze to look away and stares back at the maid.

“We want you to heal from your injuries, miss,” she answers, “we will start with a nutritious breakfast to encourage recovery, and attend to your injuries, and then you will speak with Daddy about your incident.”

The maid buttons your fitted dress, glancing in Minho’s direction, “Your bodyguard will need to be there for your conversation with Daddy.”

“He will?”

“He needs to tell Daddy what he witnessed from the facility.”

You nod, following her lead down the stairs and towards the breakfast table.

Minho follows suit, remaining at your side the entire time and he watches you eat, staying observant and cautious.

“Are you hungry?”

This question catches Minho off guard.

“No.” He adds in a dull tone— but in actuality, he is starving. He was entrusted to watch over you. He shouldn’t eat on the clock.

“Maid, go order,” You look Minho up and down, “A side of crepes. Blueberry crepes. And two cups of coffee.”

The maid hurries to the kitchen to place the order, and it is brought out a couple of minutes later.

He stares at the crepes being placed on the table, and his belly grumbles. “Thank you.”

The maid carries the mugs of coffee to the table. But it doesn’t take Minho long to catch sight of her cunning smile and the perplexing liquid that the maid slipped into the mugs of coffee.

He stares quietly, calculating his next action.

“Don’t drink it.”

“Why not?”

Minho’s sight narrows as you bring the cup of coffee to your lips.

This time, his tone is warning and direct. “It’s better that you don’t.”

You halt your sip at his harsh command.

The maid pulls out a handgun swiftly after realizing that she has been caught, aiming it at you.

A switch swiftly flips inside of him.

He lunges forward, grabbing the woman’s wrist and twisting the gun to the right, snapping a couple of fingers in the process.

It’s a rapid movement, and he had little time to think before shooting her in the head, watching the life leave her body. His face is apathetic and almost casual.

The maid’s blood spilled onto the floor as the others ran to clean it up.

“He passed the test, we can keep him. A promising guard so far,” Daddy compliments from behind you, “Urgently acting to protect. He knew that she was mindless and weak. He comprehends crises well.”

The older man slips a wad of cash into the breast pocket of Minho’s suit. “Good on protecting her. That was a setup with a stupid maid who was just aching to betray us. You will have the same fate if you are wavered by another team.”

“I think he’s a good boy. He won’t betray me.”

“Y/N, meet me at my office. Guard, follow her.” He swiftly turns away to lead the two of you as you eye Minho.

“You can relax now. No more tests.”

He nods in understanding, heeding silently towards the office.

“Tell me about what you saw at the facility.”

You nod. “Four men had taken me from our garden entrance and used Chloroform to knock me unconscious. I woke up in their van, where my hands and legs were tied. I heard them talking about what they planned to get out of me. They had intentions of murdering me if they got to a week of no answers.”

Minho listens to your explanation with hawk-like eyes, paying close attention to all the details and descriptions.

You clear your throat, running your fingers across your bruised wrist, “I was tied to a chair in their questioning room, and they used forms of torture for me to open up.”

“I was deprived of sleep and beaten if they caught me closing my eyes— trying to get my lack of sleep to cause me to open up about your activities.”

Daddy nodded solemnly, leaning into his chair.

“Waterboarding was their favorite method, but they enjoyed beating me. I assume that was mainly for fun.”

You continued, “Minho appeared and killed a couple of them and saved me, but most are still alive.”

“Still alive? You didn’t find and kill them, bodyguard, why?” Daddy’s intense eyes moved toward Minho, who appeared unbothered.

The fact that he missed a few guys is enough to drive him crazy.

“I had to get her to safety as soon as possible.”

Daddy merely nods. “I will send my men after them. Y/N, did you get any names?”

“They wouldn’t tell me anything about themselves, but I saw a couple of signs of their rival gang.”

“Guard,” he veered towards Minho, “Describe the faces that you saw. I need as much information as possible.”

“They look to be between the ages of 20 to 30, their faces covered in scars. One man had dark skin, and his facial scars were faded. His most notable feature was a slit across his brow. He wore a dark suit. I left him alive but with a bullet in his arm. The other man had a lighter skin tone and his scars were similar to knife wounds. He had gotten away.”

The boss nods.

“Good. I can work with that. Never let my little girl get into trouble like that again, alright?”

The second the words ‘my little girl’ leave his mouth, Minho can’t help but gaze at you. He observes your reactions and motions.

His heart beats by hearing his boss call you that, and his attention is now focused on every single twitch that you make.

“The nurses will be waiting in her bedroom shortly. Be good and do as they say.” He adds, snapping Minho back to him.

“Guard, do not let her go against any of the nurses' rules. She can be convincing. Do not give into it.”

“Yes Sir.”

You roll your eyes, turning away to leave the room.

“Stay safe.” That is the last utterance of the boss before you drag Minho out of the room and towards the bedroom.

“Sit on the bed,” a nurse commands you, and you quickly obey.

She dabs at your abdomen stitches with antiseptic soap and your eyebrows furrow.

“You can’t move around much, got it? No exercising for three weeks until we get these stitches out.”

You agree as she moves on to your wrists, rubbing cream into them, “You’re going to visit us twice a day for six days until the healing is almost complete.”

She yanks a bandage off of your face, causing you to groan in pain. She rubs another ointment on it before substituting it with fresh dressing.

Minho supervises each step that the nurse takes, noticing how she takes care of your body as if it’s her most precious gift.

She turns to Minho, “I need you to make sure that she’s well rested, drinking enough water, and not doing many straining activities. Take her back here once again in the evening, and then we will see her again this time tomorrow morning, got it?”

“Yes, I will take care of her.”

“What about him, nurse?” You eye the small cuts across his face and hands.

She smiles and leans over to you. “He is well trained. Trust me, he’ll survive a few scratches.”

Your eyes narrow. “I order you to treat his wounds to the best of your abilities.”

She sighs. “Yes ma’am.”

She moves towards Minho and checks his wounds, patching the ones that were newly caused. She brushes his face softly with an ointment.

“I don’t like it when my guards don’t keep up a good appearance,” you try to explain away your worry for him, “and being injured will only slow you down when protecting me.”

The man stares straight ahead, listening carefully. “I’m fine. I’ll recover just fine. I don’t need much care as you do.”

“Let her rest now,” the nurse tells Minho, “order the maids to bring her a glass of water and have her sip on it until lunchtime.”

Once she leaves, Minho turns towards you, “I’ll make sure the maids bring you water. You need to stay hydrated”

Once water is on your table, your gaze returns to Minho

“Now, I order you to sit down on my bed with me.”

He examines you with a neutral expression and waits for you to say what you mean, not wishing to assume or take anything wrongly.

“Sit down with me,” you demand again, patting the spot beside you, waiting for him to follow suit.

As soon as you ask him to, Minho does not waver. He sits down beside you, body brushing your own.

You turn to meet his cold expression with intensity. “Do you like your job so far?

Minho is taken off guard by your switch of topic. He stays where he is sitting, but turns his body as well and faces you.

“I enjoy my duties.”

“Good. Because I’m fond of you. You’re handsome, and you are good at your job.”

He stares at you with slight surprise. “Thank you.”

Your hands grab for his, playing with the ring on his finger.

Then, you reach your hands higher, tugging his sleeve up to reveal a cluster of scars littered across his forearm.

“How long have you been in the business?”

“Since I was fourteen. I was trained from a very young age.”

“Have you always been in Daddy’s family?”

“I was loyal to your Daddy from the moment I knew what this life was like. I haven’t had a moment of doubt.”

“Good. That means you won’t leave us, right?”

“I will serve your family until my last breath. You have nothing to fear about that.”

“What a good boy,” you reach to ruffle his hair, landing a swift kiss on his sliced cheek. “That’s exactly what I like to hear.”

Minho stiffens.

“I order you to take off your jacket. I want to see your body. To see if you’re strong enough to be a good guard.”

Your words are sharp as a knife and they cut deep through his defense system. His jaw clamps and his breathing accelerates.

Minho swallows his breath, nodding his head. His movements are rigid, starting to cautiously peel off his jacket. It takes him a moment to unbutton it, but once his jacket is off, he stays there, waiting.

You slide his jacket to the floor, touching the muscles of his bicep through his button-down. “You’re fit. That’s good.”

Minho yearns for you to keep feeling him. To keep praising him. He swallows. Your words sound like a honey trap to him, and it’s working as intended.

“I order you to take off your tie.”

“Yes.”

That is all that he says, slowly slipping his tie from underneath his collar and tossing it aside.

Unexpectedly, you’re climbing on top of his body. “Take off your button-down.”

He unbuttons his shirt as your eyes sear into his chest. He is now only wearing a black undershirt.

“So many clothes,” you sigh out, groping his bare arms. You run your hands across his biceps, listening to him shudder underneath the touch.

“Take off your undershirt now. I want to see your chest.”

You can feel the heat radiating off him as he shivers. His body is now sensitive, and your hands are making it worse for him.

Your orders are evident, and he hastily lifts off his undershirt, waiting for what is next.

You can see his whole chest with all of its blemishes, with every muscle covered in sweat, exposed for you.

Your hands travel down his chest and abdomen, feeling each ragged scar with your bruised fingers. The delicate contact causes his breath to catch and a soft groan leaves him, fighting to not show that he relishes in your touch.

“Let me kiss you.”

He stares at you for a moment before his eyebrows slightly shift— his way of showing you that he approves of that request.

Minho leans in slightly and closes his eyes, gently placing a timid kiss on your lips.

You smirk against him, pushing him to lie against the bed frame and deepening the kiss. Your hands reach for his dark hair, clasping a handful in your grip.

He kisses you deeply and wraps his arms around you to pull you in closer, offering full control to you. His breath speeds up.

You pull away after a moment, lips brushing against his as you catch your breath, but only for an instant before moving towards his jaw, sucking marks onto his skin.

Minho quivers at your touch, his breathing speeding up once more as you leave red and purple blemishes on his skin. He bites his lip to stop himself from groaning.

Your mouth moves from his jaw to his neck, leaving kisses and hickeys all across him, making sure that he is covered in them.

Your hips grind against him, breathing heavily with anticipation as you make your way to his chest.

Your hands and mouth are touching all of him, and each sensation triggers a reaction that he tries to conceal.

Your lips hover back to his lips, staring at him longingly. “Do I have to command you for you to do anything to me? You don’t have to ask. You have my permission. Do whatever you want.”

You can see his gaze shifting from your eyes to your mouth, to your neck, and then towards your chest.

You swiftly lift yourself off of him to let him remove your dress, leaving your body as bare as his own.

You grasp onto his neck, bringing him in for another deep kiss. Minho remains silent as he kisses you, allowing you to leave him as many marks as you desire.

“What are you thinking, Minho? Speak to me.”

He takes a moment, letting out an unstable breath. “I’m thinking of what you are doing to me. I,” he stammers, “I want to make you feel good.”

“Then do it. Please.”

“I don’t want to harm you,” he breathes out, “you’re injured.”

“The nurses said to not do,” Minho presses his eyes shut as you bring your hips up to meet his, “fuck, anything straining.”

“Remember what Daddy said? I can be convincing.” You sneer as your bodyguard fails to keep his cool composure, but the aching cock pressing into you is giving his true desires away.

You eye his internal struggle between following your orders and his cravings, or the nurse and his boss.

“I don’t want to hurt you. I can go relieve myself in the bathroom.”

“I like being hurt.”

You notice his lip twitch at the comment, and you decide to provoke him further, grinding into him, and set a steady rhythm with your hips.

He groans as his head drops back, tugging onto your hair and trying desperately to control his breath, “Please, Y/N, I just want to take care of you.”

“You can take care of me in another way.”

“I need to follow orders.”

“Then I order you to fuck me.”

His eyes pinch shut as he tries to clear his head and reason with himself.

Perhaps if he were gentle, it would be alright.

But how long could he remain gentle when you were splayed out in front of him, willing to take anything that he gave to you?

He made his decision, gripping your shoulders gently and flipping you, pinning you to the bed, and surveying your face for any discomfort.

When he finds none, he impatiently unclasps his belt, throwing it to the floor along with his dress pants, leaving him in just his boxers.

You hold yourself up by your elbows, thighs pressed together and mouth watering at the man in front of you.

His hands were delicate, although they could easily snap you in half, as he unclasped your bra, leaving your top half bare.

Minho stopped to take in the view for a moment before grabbing at one of your breasts, his mouth attaching to the other.

Your whines were like music to him— something that he wanted to hear more of.

Your back arched in pleasure as he moved one hand down to your thigh, caressing it for a moment before slowly slipping his hand into your panties.

“Try to stay quiet, darling, I don’t want any staff checking on us,” He hushed you with his lips attaching to your own once again, feeling your wetness all over his calloused hands.

His thumb brushed against your clit and you whimpered into his mouth, clenching around nothing.

Minho then plunged two fingers deep inside of you and curled them. He was becoming lost in pleasing you, overlooking his own ache between his legs.

Your thighs shook beneath him, feeling him brush against your g-spot brutally. “Minho please, please just fuck me. I want you inside of me so bad.”

At your request, he slipped his fingers out, feeling your cries against his lips from the loss of friction.

“Yes ma’am.” He pulled away from your lips, replacing them with his now dripping fingers, lapping it up with his tongue.

Next, your ruined panties were yanked off of you, with his boxers soon to come after.

One hand gently relaxes on your hips, cautious to avoid aggravating your injuries as he uses the other to guide himself inside of you, a deep groan followed by your whines.

He gives you a moment to handle the stretch, but you hardly need it, already begging for him to move.

Minho cautiously thrusts, taking in a deep breath and furrowing his eyebrows in concentration. 
This is the ultimate test of patience for him. He needs to be as gentle as possible with you.

Ultimately, he sets a slow pace, hands locating themselves on either side of you, letting out uneven breaths as he tries to control himself from how good you feel around him.

“You really do care, don’t you?” Your hand reaches to cup his face, gazing into his eyes that are hazy with pleasure.

He keeps his response short, too concentrated on the waves of bliss through each thrust, “I do care.”

“Is it because you’re my bodyguard or something more?”

You study him, watching his adam’s apple move as he swallows deeply, inhaling sharply. He halts his thrusts for a brief instant.

“Both, maybe. I can’t tell.”

That was enough for you to continue, grabbing another handful of his hair and bringing him in for another hungry, deep kiss.

With each deep thrust, Minho’s mind got hazier and hazier, losing himself to pleasure bit by bit. You could feel it by the way his rhythm became rough and desperate, and his pace picked up.

One of his hands left your side, creeping towards your throbbing clit, causing you to let out sobs, all of which he ate up with his mouth against your own.

“Are you gonna cum for me?” He coos, knowing that you’re too lost in bliss to respond.

He takes your whines as a ‘yes’, his thumb rubbing circles faster, coaxing your orgasm out of you.

Your walls fluttered around him, squeezing your eyes closed and letting out a lengthy, drawn-out moan as his pace picked up even further.

“Just like that. You’re so good for me, so, so good, fuck,” he talked you through your orgasm between his thrusts, chasing his own high.

His brows crease, hips stuttering at how good it felt to have you gripping so tightly onto his cock. Finally, he let go, his load spilling inside of you and seeping out.

Both of you took an instant to catch your breath, coming down from your highs.

His hands slowly traced your curves in contentment, paying attention to the way your chest rose and fell.

Finally, he has a justification to gape at your body up close.

From your jawline to your hickey-covered chest, down to your bruised sides and stitches near your abdomen, and— Oh fuck.

Your wounds.

Minho slowly pulls away, feeling a sense of post-nut clarity and fright.

His hand slides away from your body, staring at you with concern.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, your own anxiety suddenly displayed on your face, “Do you regret it?”

“No! No,” He panics, “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?“

Back in reality now, your wounds ache and your head pounds with exhaustion and overexertion.

His mind calculates the solutions to the situation— ways to explain to the nurses, to fix you, to help you feel better.

It was his shortcoming, after all. He let his urges get to him.

“Let’s run you a bath.” He pulls himself up, tugging on his boxers and heading towards the bathroom.

You hear the tap turn on, lying in bed trying to catch your breath. Your breath is harsh from both adrenaline and pain, but you can’t help but feel as though the latter is more of the cause.

You had slept with a small handful of men, primarily Daddy’s men, but none of them were quite like Minho.

He was tough but breakable. He was still kindhearted at his core— something that wasn’t all that common in the business.

You could tell from the way that he ran the bath, bare muscles glistening from sweat, running his hand through the water to make sure that it was the ideal temperature. How concerned he was about your protection, even through his pleasure.

Not many other men that you’ve met throughout your life have been the same way.

You’re quite fond of the man that you have just met.

You hear the water shut off and footsteps coming towards the room. He holds a faint smile as his steps come towards the bed. Your gaze slowly wanders to his physique.

“It’s ready for you.” He says in a slight whisper.

“I order you to pick me up and bring me to the bath.”

He nods at your order, hooking his arms underneath your thighs and back, his strong grip securing you.

You inhale the powerful stench of gunpowder stuck to his skin, finding comfort in your bodyguard’s presence.

“Will you wash my hair?”

Studying his expression, it’s hard to read, but you let him carry you and place you into the water.

‘I do care,’ you recall his words.

‘Is it because you’re my bodyguard or something more?’ ‘Both, maybe. I can’t tell.’

Perhaps you had feelings for the man, especially while he massaged shampoo into your scalp with tough hands, making sure to rub your temples.

“Have you ever been a bodyguard before?”

When Minho hears your question, he hums while he proceeds to wash you, working on scrubbing the areas where he touched you earlier. “No, you’re the first one I’ve been a bodyguard for.”

“I did things for your father before this. Not as a bodyguard, a more, I guess, dangerous role,” he dismisses the question.

“Is that so?” You fall to silence as he continues to wash you, taking his time and guaranteeing that he gets every part. He hesitates when he washes around your injuries— every stroke and movement of his hands is smooth and temperate.

“Let me relax for a minute alone,” you murmur, “You should put your clothes back on, the maids should be here any moment to take my order for lunch. They won’t find it suspicious that I’m bathing, but they will question why you’re with me.”

Minho nods and pulls away from your body.

He stands up and his feet splash on the wet floor. He takes a double take at your closed eyes.

The way your body floats in the bath is something that catches his attention. You look very pleasing in such a vulnerable position.

He leaves the room, cracking the door to make sure that you are safe.

Minho buttons up his wrinkled shirt, pulling the jacket over it and smoothing it out to ensure that nobody suspects anything.

Minho’s eyes turn to the maid who enters the room with the ring of a bell.

His demeanor is unfazed, a hand on the gun in his pocket once more. He holds eye contact, his stare intense.

He would make sure that there wasn’t another incident.

“Where is Miss Y/N?”

“She is bathing at the moment.”

She nods, walking towards the bathroom and knocking on the door.

You hum, allowing her to enter.

“What would you like for lunch, ma’am?”

“I don’t know, surprise me.”

A few seconds go by as you immerse yourself entirely in the water before rising back to the surface.

“Minho,” you call out, “What would you like?”

You hear the faint sigh that Minho gives as a response back to your question.

“I’ll just have a sandwich or something, whatever you have is fine.” He replies to both you and the maid as she exits the bathroom, fulfilling her duty of reporting your lunch choice.

The bedroom door shuts behind her.

“Minho!” You call out once again, “I order you to take me out of the bath.”

A few seconds pass before you hear Minho’s footsteps come near the bathroom once again. He grabs a towel as you stand, body bare and dripping with water.

His eyes have an intense focus as he reaches out his hand.

Minho pulls you up from the bath wraps the towel around you, making sure to cover all of you, and begins to dry off your hair.

“Minho,” you begin, “Daddy can’t know about what happened. He’d shoot you dead on the spot.”

Minho pauses for a moment, his eyes darting across the floor.

He is silent for a moment. “I won’t reveal anything to him.”

“Good boy,” you cling to the towel covering your body, “Go fetch a maid to dress me. While she does so, I want you to change out of that suit and shower before lunch.”

“Then I’ll go shower now. I’ll be back.”

You hum in agreement, stepping towards your bedroom as a maid rings the bell.

You drop your towel, letting her sift through your drawers to find decent clothing.

She eyes a hickey on your breast, along with the other injuries across your body from the kidnapping.

“Your injuries look agitated, Miss Y/N, are you sure that a bath was the best idea for you?”

“Don’t question me,” you grumble, “I took a bath because I wanted to.”

“Yes, miss.” She pulls the dress above your head smoothes it out, and clasps a necklace behind your neck.

“You’re all set for lunch.”

The moment that you come out of your room, you can feel his presence. He is leaning against the front door of the room with an unreadable expression.

He has another suit on, a fresh one. Minho’s previously muskier, dark scent has been replaced by a new, sweeter fragrance.

“First shower at the estate?” You question, “Our soaps are quite lovely and mild on the skin. You smell wonderful.”

Minho’s lips curl at the compliment, looking you up and down, “Seems that we both are putting our best foot forward.”

You look around to see if anyone is watching before leaning to ruffle his damp hair and leave a kiss on his cheek, taking the man by complete surprise. He makes an effort to regain his composure, but you can see that his cheeks are blushed from the touch.

As soon as you lean in to lock arms, you feel him lean over to you to whisper something.

“I would love to do that with you again.”

You froze in your spot, heat rushing to your thighs.

You must regain your composure, caught off guard by his blunt words, something unlike the ordinary nature of Minho.

He takes a seat across from you, watching every move that the maid makes to be sure that she doesn’t try anything— he has learned his lesson.

“Pressed Italian Picnic Sandwiches and tea,” The maid states, setting the plates on the table.

You scrunch my nose up. “What’s in it?”

“Artisanal prosciutto, aged provolone, and sun-dried tomatoes inside of a crusty ciabatta,” She doesn’t hesitate to list the ingredients, “and a fragrant blend of rare loose-leaf teas with fresh cream and sugar cubes.”

She sets the teapot and cups out, along with a carton of cream and a bowl of sugar cubes.

Minho’s hand rests on his gun, waiting for her to leave before taking a sip of tea.

You follow his action, dumping a couple of cubes into your tea and bringing it to your lips.

I finish my lunch with Minho.

“Let’s go back to my room now. I'm exhausted.”

Minho nods his head and you both finish up the meals quickly.

You both leave the dining area and stroll back to your bedroom.

As soon as you get back into the room, you feel Minho close the door behind you.

You don’t hesitate to climb into bed and lie down.

The guard looks over at you, observing the way that your chest rises and falls as you breathe. He notices every movement that your body is making.

“I command you to lay down with me.” You lean back against the bed, your body still and eyes focused on his unmoving body.

He slips off his shoes silently, slipping into the canopy bed.

You grin, curling at his side, pressing against his body.

His breathing is deep and steady as he struggles to get into a more comfortable position.

Your mind began racing with questions about the mysterious man that you were slowly falling for, burying yourself further into the sheets.

“Minho,” you start slowly, “How did you become tangled with our family?”

Minho stays silent for a few moments and you feel his body shift a little against yours.

“I didn’t have a lot of money or family growing up,” he kept his answer short and simply, “the moment that this job came my way, I took it. The people connected to this business have always stayed on the down low, so this is an easy job to keep."

“Daddy seems to like you,” you grit your teeth.

Minho turns to you on the bed and sits up a little. He looks at you from top to bottom, reading the worry on your face with ease.

“You don’t have to worry about me.”

“He will kill you on the spot if he finds out. He’s done that to almost every man who has flirted or slept with me.”

You pause for a moment. “God forbid the one he hired as my bodyguard.”

“I am not so easily killed.” The words leave his mouth with a tinge of arrogance.

“I trust you.”

“Good.”

There is stillness between you both for a time, but he breaks it by grabbing your chin and leaning in to kiss you. You soothe into his touch, smiling against his lips briefly before he pulls away.

“I order you to stay here. Like this.”

It’s not difficult for you to drift off to sleep beside him, and as always, Minho pursues your request, keeping a close eye on you. You relax, your breathing slow, and he notes all of the occasional twitches and movements that you make in your sleep.

A couple of hours later, the door is knocked on by a maid.

“Dinner order?”

Minho jolts awake from the knock on the door, a hand swiftly placed on your shoulder to protect you from any threats before turning his head towards the noise.

His voice is full of sleep. “Repeat that?”

As she opens the door, there is a look of inquiry on her face, one that she won’t ask to ensure her job and health.

“Is she asleep?” She questions instead, glancing over at your peaceful figure.

He turns his head towards you to double-check, observing your napping body.

“Yes.”

“Alright. I’ll advise the chef to prepare her dinner later tonight.”

She gives a sharp nod to the guard and scurries out of the room, quietly shutting the door to not disturb the girl.

Minho’s eyes rest on the door for a moment, fully alert now with a hand resting on his gun.

Eventually, he turns over to you. He has his eyes on you for a few seconds before leaning down to kiss you on the forehead, letting out a small sigh.

You stir at the warm touch, scrunching your face up and stretching your body.

“What time is it?” You ask groggily before burying your head into his neck.

“Dinner is in about half an hour. You hungry?”

“Not really,” you pull yourself up and rub your sleep-filled eyes.

He notices your body shiver as you pull yourself up. Minho lets out a short exhale.

“Did you sleep?”

“A bit.” He doesn’t look away or turn his head as he admires the way you stand and stretch your body, smoothing your dress of its wrinkles.

You walk towards your vanity mirror, plopping down in the chair to readjust your necklace to the center. A few marks on your collarbone catch your eye.

“The nurses will be in shortly.” You grit your teeth. “I hope they don’t notice.”

“They won’t notice.”

His figure can be seen from behind you in the reflection of the mirror. His lips are turned upwards as he watches you fix your appearance.

You pull out a couple of foundations and concealers, working on concealing the marks left from earlier.

“The maids wouldn’t, but the nurses will tell the difference between a hickey and a bruise. Especially since these are fresh.”

Even though you are busy with your makeup and covering up the bruises, Minho’s eyes are never off of you. It is a feeling that you will have to get used to— always having a watchful eye on you.

Once you were satisfied with the coverage, you rose from your seat quickly.

“Get up, we’re going to dinner.”

“So bossy.” He retorts. “What will you have?”

“I want to go out, let’s go somewhere fancy. Daddy will pay.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You want to go out when you have had a beating just two days ago?”

He asks it like he thinks it’s an absurd idea, almost condescendingly, yet his tone of voice is soft and full of concern for you, causing your stomach to flip inside out.

“I’m tired of staying inside already. This estate is suffocating,” you pull on your slip-on shoes.

“That’s how I got myself into this mess in the first place. I left the house and got kidnapped. That won’t happen with you here.”

“I guess you’re right. We’ll go somewhere nice.”

“Good. I’ll go tell Daddy.” You leave the door open for Minho to come after but don’t wait for him, yet you can tell that he follows behind silently, attending to the way your body moves in the dress as you make your way down the halls.

The door is slightly ajar, so when you knock, it pushes open with a creak, revealing your father inside.

Minho stands behind you like a shadow, his lips pressed into a straight line, gaze locked on your father, keeping his distance from the both of you.

“Come inside,” the older man invites both of them with a welcoming grin, “sit.”

You can sense that your father has something on his mind, which is never a good sign.

“I was going to call you to my office shortly, anyway.” Instantly you assume the worst.

You sit down, taking a seat in front of him. Minho is still standing in the back, his priority on you and your father.

The man looks over at Minho. Their eyes lock for a moment. “Guard, go lock the door. There is a conversation that needs to be had.”

Minho nods and he turns his head, locking the door behind him.

He turns his attention back to you, who is frozen in your seat, breath hitching.

The elite man fiddles with a pen at his desk, clicking it to drown out the tense silence.

The silence in the room seems so heavy that you wonder how neither you nor Minho is feeling sick. Judging by the thick atmosphere between the three of you, it is easy to tell that he isn’t pleased right now.

He fidgets with the pen and you wait for him to finally speak.

“Do you find my daughter to be precious, Guard?” He addresses Minho with a stern voice, finally setting the pen down at his wooden desk with a smack.

“Yes sir,” Minho replies flatly.

“Are you willing to protect her at all costs, even at your life?”

After moments of silence, he answers back confidently. “Yes sir. I am.”

A hand comes to rest at his side, toying loudly with a handgun, which he eventually pulls out of his pocket.

Tears begin to well up in your eyes, yet Minho stays concentrated. There isn’t a single sign of fear on his face. He is unshaken, calm, and collected as if he had been foreseeing this exact scenario.

“Do you know why you were assigned to guard my daughter, Minho?”

“I know the reasons.”

“There was a leak to the rivals from a previous staff member that I had a precious daughter in my life,” He turns towards you, “the one that I had climbed to the top of my career to protect and assure her safety and security.”

He cleared his throat before darting back to Minho, “It took less than a day for her to be taken from my hands and placed in the hands of one of my greatest enemies.”

Minho pays attention to every word that he speaks and clears his throat, waiting for your father to continue.

“I care for my daughter more than anything in the world. Which is why I had appointed the most valuable, honest, and competent man in the family to ensure her protection.”

Minho nods.

“Please don’t kill him, Daddy.”

The boss meets you with cold eyes, disregarding your words to proceed with his lecture. “You are my most prized possession. I would hurt anyone or anything to make sure that not a single person touches you. The men who kidnapped you are all taken care of, wiped out by my command.”

He continues. “I know everything that goes on in your life. Every meal, every kiss, every injury, the staff must report every minor thing that occurs in your day. I have eyes on you at all times, and you’re more than aware of that.”

Your shoulders stiffen. He knew.

“Minho,” his stare is burning into the other man, “I’ll get to the point. Did you sleep with my daughter?”

He doesn’t blink. His body tenses up and his voice remains neutral.

“Yes.”

The boss turns the safety off of his firearm and you dig your head into your hands, unable to observe the scene that is about to unfold.

The gunshot is fired, but the man deliberately aims to the left of Minho, grazing his cheek with the bullet before standing up instantly from his seat. The guard doesn’t react with more than a blink as the blood pools at the cut.

“I trust you, Minho. You are a good man. If there is a single person who I would choose to give my daughter to, it would be you.”

Finally, Minho takes this as a sign to let his guard down for a moment as his shoulders drop, lip quivering slightly. It was evident that there was more emotion that the guard was holding back, especially when he took a moment to look away.

“You have my approval.”

Your eyes widen.

“Take care of my daughter. If you break her heart, I’ll feed your own heart to her for supper.”

“Understood.”

“Take her to dinner,” a wad of cash is pulled out from one of the drawers, “buy her flowers and anything else that she asks for.”

“Yes sir.” He responds, “I’ll make sure that she gets the treatment that she deserves.”

You run to embrace your father, to which he places an arm around you, rubbing your back before pulling away.

“Get yourself dressed more sufficiently, I will have a car ready for you soon.”

Minho follows you out of his office, letting out a breath that he had been holding in once the door was closed.

“Did you hear that?” Do you know what this means?” You beam at the man before grabbing at his cheeks and pulling him in for a kiss.

He lets out a surprised noise, hesitantly wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing back.

When you break the kiss, he stares back at you with the first big smile that you’ve seen from him displayed on his face.

“Let’s get you ready.”

[rafesslxt]

unknown number

pt. 1/2

SUMMARY: not only you are surprised when you get a drunk text from your brother that you should pick him up from a party - Topper's just as shocked as you are.

WARNINGS: Thornton!reader, brothers best friend trope, bickering, tension, quick deep talk with Topper

WORD COUNT: 1,7k

NOTE: english is not my first language | thank‘s to everyone for reading and supporting, comments and - are highly apprecaiated <3

🥥 🍋‍🟩 𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆝⋆｡˚ 𓇼 🥭 ���

Your body tried to make its way through the sweaty crowd dancing and drinking around you, the air thick with the scent of weed and expensive perfume. This wasn't on your agenda for tonight, getting your drunk brother out of a party, that's for sure.

"Hey sis, can u get me? I'm drunk as hell."

You weren't surprised, though. After Sarah had ditched him for John B, which was more than understandable for you but hey – Topper never wanted to listen to your advice, he seemed to try drowning the pain and hurt ego away by drinking and smoking.

The house you currently were in was familiar to you. Since Sarah's your best friend you spend a lot of time here but never during these party's, cause most of the time Rafe was the host and well - let's just say you tried to avoid any chance of being in a room with him together.

Because besides the hatred for their sister's trying to live the pogue life, Topper and Rafe had one thing more in common. They fell for the sister of their best friend. The only problem was, that Rafe never acted on his feeling. While Topper may be a complete idiot, he at least showed Sarah some kind of feelings, trying to wrap her around his fingers. But for Rafe? Bickering and hating was his way.

But Rafe apparently had a new way of drawing you into his space.

"Hey, did you see Topper?" You asked a guy which's name you could never remember no matter how often your brother tried to tell you. You just knew he often hang with them together. "No, sorry. Ask Rafe, he was with him a while ago." You instantly rolled your eyes but smiled at him and nodded in a way that was supposed to tell him 'thank you'.

You made your way further through the people until you reached the living room where you saw Rafe sitting on the couch, talking to two girls on either side of him.

Not bothering that you may interrupted something, you walked up behind him, not even caring enough to wait until he might realize you were standing behind him. "Have you seen my brother? He told me to come pick him up."

You looked down at his head which bend until it laid against the backrest, his pretty blue eyes meeting yours. Pretty ? No, you meant blue. Just blue.

"Oh If it isn't the princess of the Pogues, gracing us with her presence this night.", his voice dripped with sarcasm. "And to what do we owe this unexpected visit?" You rolled your eyes at his irritating words and crossed your arms in front of your chest. "Did you see Topper, Rafe?", you repeated.

His smile widened before he sat upright again, took a beer that was probably his from the desk, turned around and locked eyes with you again, walking around the couch towards you.

"Someone's in a grumpy mood today." he remarked, taking a sip of his beer. "Rafe If you don't-" "No need to be so uptight princess. The party just stared." You scoffed. "Well, apparently not If my brother's texting me to come pick his drunk ass up."

"Give him some time, he's trying to heal from a heartbreak. I mean I told him my sister is never hanging around for long but- well you know him. Had to try for himself."

You were slowly getting tired of the conversation and Rafe seemed to notice. "And as for where your brother is; I saw him with Kelce in the kitchen a few minutes ago. Just before you arrived, I think."

Without giving him a second more of your time, you turned around, walking towards the kitchen. Why didn't he just tell you 'Hey, Topper is in the kitchen.' ? Why does he always have to bicker with you and beat around the bush. Ugh.

Sarah always said he liked you but before Rafe Cameron actually had serious feelings for you or even anyone, hell would freeze over.

You walked into the kitchen of the Cameron's, immediately spotting your brother and Kelce, laughing loudly between some shots they were taking.

"Wow. You're really setting the bar lower and lower." You scoffed, making their heads turn towards you. "Y/n? What are you doing here? Aren't you with your little friends?" "Oh, hey pipsqueak." Kelce chuckled from behind Topper, waving at you with a drunken grin.

"Come on Topper, I don't have all night." I sighed, already about to leave the kitchen when he looked at me as If I had torn apart his favorite teddy bear apart that he hid under his bed whenever someone came over. "What the hell are you talking about?" "What the hell do you mean what the hell I'm talking about? You texted me to come pick you up because you're too drunk."

Just as he was about to answer, Rafe entered the kitchen and stood beside you. "Topper, why don't you listen to your sister and go with her, you've had enough for tonight."

Feeling betrayed, Topper was too stunned to speak, looking at Kelce for some backup. "Hey man don't get me into this." he replied to his look, throwing up his hands and spilling some of the liquid that was inside his shot glass.

"I didn't text you!" he exclaimed, reached into his pocket and searching for his phone. "Shit.. can't find it." You rolled your eyes, your patience slowly but clearly wearing off. "Topper.." "I swear I didn't!", he swore while continuing to search the insides of his few pockets. "Damn no really, where is it?", he asked himself.

"Come on man." Kelce chuckled and threw an arm around his friend, slowly guiding him outside the kitchen and towards the front door where you parked your car.

You stepped aside to let them pass, your gaze landing on Rafe who was already looking at you, licking his bottom lip before speaking. "Here." He reached into his pocket and handed you Topper's phone. "What? Why do you have my brother's phone ?", you asked him, as It didn't hit you yet what was going in.

"Thought he might need someone to pick him up before he would be a complete mess.", he chuckled, shrugging his shoulders and looking away for a short moment.

Your eyebrows shot up as the realization finally hit you."You texted me to come pick him up? Why would you do that?" He chuckled and looked down at you. " Like I said; I was worried about my friend." "Bullshit.", you called him out right away. "If you were worried about him, you would have told me where he was instead of beating around the bush."

"Just wanted some conversation." he replied simply, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes while doing so, trying not to let him get under your skin. It would only please him.

"Good night, Rafe." you smiled at him before turning around and pushing through sweaty crowd again, reaching your car where Kelce and Topper were already waiting for you.

You pressed the little button on your car key, allowing them to get in while you were still a few meters away. Kelce jumped into the back seat, and Topper settled next to you in the front.

You slid behind the wheel and closed your door, glancing over your shoulder at Topper’s friend. “Should I drive you home too?” you asked, reaching for your seatbelt and securing it right after.

“Sure thing, pipsqueak,” he grinned, his eyes heavy and his body slumping down onto the back seat. You rolled your eyes for what felt like the hundredth time in the last thirty minutes and started the engine, pulling away from the property.

A few minutes into the drive, you looked over to your right. “You’re lucky. Mom and Dad aren’t home tonight,” you smirked slowly, trying to lighten the mood since he was still your annoying brother. Annoying, but family.

A scoff escaped his lips as he stared out the window. “As if they’re ever home.” 

You sighed quietly, shrugging your shoulders. “Well, it’s still better than having to explain why you’re drunk and high.” 

“They wouldn’t understand anyway. They never do. All they do is scream and complain. They don’t care.” He turned his head toward you, studying your face. “But honestly, I don’t know which one of us they’re more disappointed in,” he chuckled.

“Yeah… Mom’s worried I’m drinking myself into a coma, while Dad is worried you’ll run off with Maybank or some other pogue.” The car fell silent for a moment before you both erupted into unexpected laughter. 

"Honestly, I don’t know which one is worse,” you giggled, gripping the wheel a little tighter as you turned onto your street. "Not sure who's setting the bar lower now, huh?" Topper smirked.

“I guess we should take him with us tonight before his parents have a heart attack,” you suggested, nodding toward Kelce, who was snoring in the back seat.

“Yeah…” he glanced at his friend and then back at you. “Thank you for picking me up, even though I didn’t text you. It’s good to know I can still count on you.” He smiled softly at you, placing his hand on your shoulder.

"No problem, Topper." you smiled back at him before turning off your car and finally parked in your garage. "Let‘s get him inside.", you grinned, eager to get out like Topper, when your phone suddenly vibrated in your purse.

Hm, probably the pogues asking If everything‘s alright after you left so quick with only telling them it‘s an 'family emergency'.

You opened your little white purse Sarah had given you on your last birthday and rummaged through it, fishing out your phone. You had a few messages from JJ and Sarah, asking you when - wait.

What was that? A message by an unknown number.

unknown number

i took the liberty of grabbing your number while I had the chance to.

was nice seeing you tonight, hot and bothered like always..

sweets dreams, angel.

xx rafe

That son of a - wait, why were you smiling together with your heart beating faster ?

masterlist | taglist | navigation | valentines day special

tags: @supernaturaldawning @cardibre91 @aegonsslxt @juliet-017

xoxo sarah <3

[azsazz]

Dead by Dawn (Part 19)

Azriel x Cassian x Reader

Summary: Zombie!AU: It’s been a while since the end of the world.

Warnings: Blood, gore, injury, graphic depictions of violence, poly!relationship, slow burn, undead, death, sex, anal, double penetration, fingering.

Word Count: 4689

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18)

_________________________________________

Day 195 Part 5

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“What did you just say?” Nesta’s tone is flat, as if all of the emotion that was previously pouring from her soul miraculously disappeared as her walls slammed back up. It’s eerie, how she does that. She sounds like death incarnate, and not the undead zombie kind. Her face is stony, silver glare sharp as a blade, and the way she won’t stop staring at you makes your throat seize.

Maybe you shouldn’t have blurted the conclusion you’d come to upon examining Elain’s wounds. She’s surprisingly coherent for someone bitten by a zombie four weeks ago, and with the symptoms you noticed, her mucus changing from black in color to clear, her fever on the verge of breaking, coherent enough to form full sentences, she seems as well on the mend as she would be with any other sickness.

But how could this disease possibly work that way? Yeah, it seems too fucking simple, really, like an age-old gotchya! movie moment that’s going to kick you all in the ass later on. How could any of these creatives possibly have nailed such an ending like this? A cure for the zombie apocalypse? In the blood of a singular family? Well, as far as you can tell, anyway. Been there, done that, seen that in the cinemas three times over, but you ate it up every single time.

Now that you’re living it, you can confirm that everything about the apocalypse is not that exciting and not that cinematic.

The only sound in the room is Feyre’s soft whimpers of pain. She’s out cold, succumbed to the virus threatening to take control of her body, but she’s breathing, even if it sounds like she swallowed a harmonica. Her restless unconsciousness, at least, draws Rhys’ attention from where he’s still being stiff-armed by Cassian. You’re not angry with the way he reacted to your help…or lack thereof. You’re just as worried about Feyre as he is, as anyone in this house is, and you glance at your best friend as if you can will it into her to survive by looks alone.

It's hard to see her like this, but you hold firm to the notion that the Archeron family can defeat the odds stacked against humanity, and that she’ll pull through.

You give yourself a nod of reassurance and straighten your spine as you shift your gaze from Feyre to her oldest sister. Those piercing gray eyes are soul-sucking in their own way, but you know that Nesta is a terrified girl somewhere beneath all of that iron and nails. Not only has she almost lost one sister to a zombie bite, but now two? You can’t imagine how she’s feeling in a time like this, and you feel helpless that there isn’t anything more you can do.

“Your blood,” you answer, and are shocked by how strong your voice sounds. Even Rhys looks up from tenderly attending Feyre when you speak, stroking her damp hair from her forehead. You shake your head, continuing. “Look, I couldn’t even begin to explain the science behind my thoughts, but from what I’ve seen of Elain’s wound, it’s that the virus is no longer eating away at her. It’s like when her body finally began combatting against the bite, it just…” You trail off, chewing on your lip as you think. You begin pacing, sorting through your racing thoughts. You hardly notice Eris gently steer Nesta away from you and toward a chair, helping her lower into it. Her spine stays rigid, there is no admitting defeat in front of strangers.

“Froze,” she supplies, and a knowing look washes over her face. She’s still glaring at you with those sharp, silver eyes, but at least she isn’t looking at you like she’s actually going to slit your throat for your crazy theories.

“Right,” you agree. Feyre makes another weak noise of protest, like she’s reliving the nightmare of when she was bitten. How scared she must have been, out there alone with Rhys, searching for you, Azriel, and Cassian and a place to call your own. You should’ve never split up.

You tear your gaze from your friend, sliding it down to the arm you wrapped in gauze. You’re terrified to look, to see if the black of the virus in her veins is actively eating at her. The onyx blood polluting her veins travels from the site of the bite, winding all the way down to the tips of her fingers, the black leeching into an intricate spiderweb pattern of her veins. Slowly, carefully, you ease the sleeve of her shirt back above the wound and peek under. The release of breath you let out makes you realize how truly exhausted you are. The wound hasn’t crept any higher yet, hasn’t continued making its way toward her heart, so you take it as a good sign, for now. You’ll have someone monitor her throughout the night.

 “Whatever is in their blood is fighting back against the infection,” you explain. “I don’t know how, or if there’s anyone else out there who’s blood can do the same,”—that is a conversation for later, you note, noticing the weary glance shared between Nesta and Eris. You redirect the end of your sentence to Rhysand, who murmurs something softly in Feyre’s ear, his attention completely focused on what you’re saying. “But all we can do now is wait.”

You lean into Azriel’s side when he sidles up beside you, reading your wearied fatigue on your face. His body is solid and warm and you want to both nuzzle closer and step back, all too aware of how you might smell, the things you’ve touched today. It’s the first time you’ve felt this dirty in a long while. You’ve gotten used to the second, and third, and fourth layers of skin in the form of muck and grime. You ache to get clean.

Azriel doesn’t let you get far, sliding a hand around your waist and pulling you into his broad chest. You hope that the few layers of filth can cover the blush creeping up your neck. This still feels so new with him, the silent, stoic man who you’d figured wouldn’t dare show his rivals his weakness like this. Something must have happened while he and Cassian joined Nesta and Eris in finding your friends if he’s allowing them to see the intimacy between you two.

Public displays of affection are definitely more Cassian’s thing. Case-in-point, he’s grinning like his smile is going to split his face in two, hazel eyes sparking at the picture you and Azriel paint. It’s one that makes his cock twitch, the urge to drag the both of you somewhere private is strong.

He bounds over with a swagger that looks more like he should be striding shirtless down the beach instead of across a fancily decorated zombie shelter in the form of a man’s home that tried to kill you. You can’t take your eyes off of him, how his muscles jump with each long stride, right until he smothers the both of you in a warm embrace in which you easily accept.

“And what of Elain’s progress?” Nesta clears her throat. You open your eyes and catch Eris giving her a nudging reprimand that she ignores. That’s fine, because you don’t feel bad about being with your boyfriends, either. “She’s been like this for weeks. Borderline delusional, spouting lines like she’s a psychic. She may have been able to fight off the virus, but at what cost? Will we ever see our Elain again?”

It's the first tremble of fear you hear from the unfaltering eldest Archeron. And it’s the money question, the one that you have no more of an answer to than how their blood is stopping the infection from the bite.

You shake your head softly and Nesta’s jaw clacks as her teeth snap shut. She shoves up from the chair she’s sitting at and casts a longing look to Feyre. “Well, then. You’ve upheld your part of the bargain and brought my sister back to us, so you can stay.” It looks like it just about kills her to say it, but Eris looks proud. He even offers you a genuine smile. “We’ll take shifts monitoring her health. Until it’s your turn, you can sleep in the basement.”

You hide the instinctive shudder that spindles down your spine. You and basements don’t have a great record, but Eris’ accompanying words do sweeten the deal.

“There’s a fully stocked bathroom down there, with running water. Please, utilize it to your liking.” You don’t know if this is a polite way of telling you that you stink to the high heavens, but you don’t care. They have running water.

You almost sprint down the stairs on that promise alone, but the two men holding you close don’t let up when you try to squirm away.

Cassian grins at you, amused. You try not to pout, but you can’t wait to step under that clean water. You don’t even care if it’s warm, you just want to rid yourself of too many days of filth to count.

And the idea of showering with Cassian and Azriel…your brain almost short-circuits in your head. You’ll feel much more comfortable with their mouths on your skin if you’re freshly clean, which means that there will definitely be loads of fooling around tonight, if the exhaustion doesn’t drag you down first.

“I’ll take first watch,” Rhys says, already planting himself in a chair beside Feyre’s bad arm. He takes her hand gently in his, cradling it as he watches her face contort and sweat drip down her temples. You hurt for the both of them, wishing that there was more that you could do.

Azriel’s lips catch your temple in a long peck. You meet his gaze as he pulls away, and the look on his face tells you and Cassian to go ahead, that he’s going to speak to Rhys.

You nod and allow Cassian to guide you back into the depths of the home.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“I don’t know how the fuck we’re supposed to sleep under the same roof as that,” Cassian shivers and you glare.

“Cassian,” you hiss, swatting his arm. He winces, rubbing his bicep and shooting you an apologetic look. “Her name is Elain, and she’s clearly still alive,” you bite, because he’s being unnecessarily rude. Yes, she looks like she looks like the mother of zombies, but she’s still a person, or half of one, anyway.

And Feyre’s currently in the same boat.

You wanted to wait for Azriel to shower, you really did, but the enticing call of the clear waters and the steam when Cassian switched the faucet on was like a siren call. There was no denying yourself any longer, and if Azriel finishes his conversation with Rhys within the next hour or two, you’re pretty sure he’ll be able to join you.

For now, you have Cassian. Honestly, you would have taken a small bucket of water and a rag and made do. You were not expecting a luxurious bath in the basement of this luxurious home, and not only is the shower humungous, but it has multiple showerheads.

Multiple.

You think that your bad luck might finally be turning around.

“Sorry,” he shrugs, sheepishly, and you tug him closer to you by his forearm because the suds dripping down his face almost slide into those big hazel eyes of his with the way that his head is turned down to stare at you apologetically. Quickly, you wipe away the soap. You don’t need to hear him whining if it gets in his eyes, you’d like to enjoy the rest of your shower.

You tut, reluctantly accepting his apology. It’s much easier to when his large hands slide around your waist and tug your body into his. The both of you have refrained from touching thus far, much too interested in the running water and scraping your bodies free of dirt, but now that you’re significantly less dirty, you allow yourself to roam your eyes across every inch of delectable skin he has on show. And you mean every single inch.

Your breath catches in your throat as your body slides against his, leaving no room between you. Your fingers find the hair at the nape of his neck where you play with it, enjoying the feeling of his body pressed against yours.

You can feel his cock filling with need. Despite the hot water beating across your back, your nipples pebble when your chests meet in a deep inhale.

“Cassian,” you breathe, fingers tightening between the strands of his hair. His eyes grow with need, the same need that’s coiling in your gut, begging for attention, for the friction pressed against your stomach.

“Yes?” He teases, but his voice is deep with need. You trail your fingers across his shoulders, unable to keep yourself from wandering. You’d press even closer if there was room to, but there isn’t, so you continue your path down his muscular arms, back up, and then trail your touch down his chest, right between your bodies where you can grip his cock.

Cassian hisses out a sharp breath as your fingers wrap around him. It’s been days since you last fooled around, and he’s never cared about cleanliness, but the fact that he can see what you look like not covered in grime and old blood…you’re fucking breath-taking.

“Touch me,” you beg softly. “I need you to touch me.”

Cassian doesn’t hesitate. His hands wind around your thighs and then he’s hoisting you up into his arms with ease. You wince, nails clawing at his shoulders while you worry about his leg but he shakes his head. He doesn’t even give you the chance to ask because his head dips low, his mouth capturing yours in a desperate kiss.

You part your lips for him, kissing him just as hotly, moaning when his tongue traces yours. You pour everything into the kiss, the emotions wearing on you from days spent locking them up. The loss of half of your group, Feyre being bitten, finding all this. It’s overwhelming in the best way, even more so when Cassian’s fingers skim across your slit, causing you to moan loudly, arching into his chest.

“Fuck,” he curses. His chest heaves against your own as he pulls away to drink in your features as he grips your hips and pulls you even harder against him. Your eyes roll into the back of your head at the friction of his cock against your soaked slit. “You’re so fucking perfect.”

“No, you,” you protest breathlessly, unsure if you’re even making any sense. It doesn’t matter right now, anyway, not with the way you’re dragging your nails down the muscle of his back, telling Cassian that you want more.

His laugh warms your body. It settles between your thighs, the ones that he looks like he wants to settle between. The door opens, stealing both of your attention.

Azriel steps through, running a hand through his dark hair. His lips are pressed in a firm line, his eyes downturned toward the ground. Whatever happened during his conversation with Rhys weighs heavily on him, you catch the flash of sadness in his eyes when he lifts them to meet yours before they fall down you and Cassian’s bodies, drinking in the way you’re entwined with each other.

And Azriel’s gaze heats. Makes you squirm in the best fucking way because you need him just as badly. You want him pressed up against your back, kissing at your neck with his fingers trailing possessively down your body and he and Cassian fight for dominance over you. As he worms his way into your ass, Cassian at your front.

You want both of them, and you want them now.

The words are stuck in your throat, but Azriel sees them. He always does, which is why he wastes no time at all shedding his clothes before entering through the glass door of the shower when you raise your hand to him.

His hazel gaze doesn’t leave yours, not even when Cassian gets back to work, growling deeply against your neck as he ravages you. You release a mewl of pleasure, one hand clamping around the back of his neck to keep him buried against your throat.

Azriel doesn’t stop under one of the many showerheads pouring water. Doesn’t pause at the warmth that drapes itself down his body in a way you could only wish to imitate with the flat of your tongue. He wears the water as well as he wears anything, and his stride doesn’t break until he reaches you.

He caresses your face with a firm hand to your jaw, guiding you right to his lips. He’s sinful with the way that he kisses, knows exactly what to do to make you fucking melt. Even Cassian pulls away to watch the both of you devour each other, and you can feel him growl lowly in his chest, pleasure spiking the temperature of the room to boiling.

You’re so dazed after Azriel’s kiss that you barely catch his words, too busy chasing the taste of his mouth to hear. “Let me wash up first, and I’ll be right here,” he explains, his fingers trailing scalding lines down your back. The tips of his fingers trail right between the crease of your cheeks, a teasing brush over your hole. You shudder with pleasure, automatically leaning further into Azriel for more. You whine when he pulls away, but he kisses you harshly before stepping away completely. “I’m filthy, sweetheart, and you’re all pretty and clean.”

“Make a mess of me, Az,” you keen as Cassian slips a thick finger into your cunt. It slides in with little resistance and you clench around his digit. The both of them threaten to overwhelm you already, and you don’t even have one of their cocks inside of you. How will you be when both of them are sheathed inside of you? “Please.”

“Fuck,” he groans, staring at you up and down. You look like a pretty doll all perched up in Cassian’s arms, ready for the taking. Azriel forces himself a step away, but his hot gaze doesn’t slip from yours. “Let me clean up while Cassian stretches you and I’ll be right there.”

You agree with a huff that shifts into a whine as Cassian teases that finger in a circle, brushing up against your sensitive spot. You hardly get to revel in the feeling before he’s moving further back, pulling out just to press the tip into your ass.

“Relax,” he murmurs against your cheek, peppering encouraging kisses to your face as he slowly works his finger inside of your rear. It’s a foreign feeling, but it doesn’t hurt. You focus on the feeling of his lips on your skin, craning your neck to find his mouth with your own as you force your muscles to relax. “That’s my girl.”

You shudder at those words, liking them all too much.

Half of your time is spent kissing the daylights out of Cassian while the other half of the time is spent ogling Azriel. The delicious curve of his body as he washes the sins of the apocalypse from his body, all so that he can revel in the sins of yours. You can’t help but watch him, the way his muscles contract and contort with his motions. You wish you were the bar of soap he drags down his abs. You swallow harshly when that bar of soap makes it to the vee of his hips and he circles his cock, cleaning himself.

When you rip your eyes away from the display, you catch his hazel ones, glittering with amusement.

You don’t think you can wait all that much longer.

“Quit teasing her, Az,” Cassian groans when you slide yourself against his cock again. It’s a lame attempt at trying to catch his tip so you can sink yourself on him, and when it doesn’t work, you find yourself reaching a hand between your bodies. You can’t wait any longer, you need something inside of you right now or you might burst, but Cassian quickly catches your wrist in his hand, drawing you away from your trophy. “She’s ready.”

You preen at his words, turning to look at Cassian eagerly. His grin is so fucking charming that it makes your heart skip in your chest and you can’t help but lift yourself up to catch his lips against yours, thanking him for being so gentle with you.

“You want to do this in here, pretty girl?” He asks, wiping a strand of hair plastered to your cheek away. His thumb strokes softly against your face, and his eyes are filled with adoration.

“Yes,” you plead. “Yes, yes, please. I want the both of you right here,” you shake your head profusely. Emotions well your eyes. You don’t think that you’ve ever been this aroused before, and not only by one man, but with his companion that has taken you so long to win over. It’s the best thing you’ve ever done and you would do it all over again if you had to.

You turn in Cassian’s arms, reaching for Azriel as he finally nears. He’s as squeaky clean as you are, and he looks utterly fucking edible, even more so when he falls easily into your kiss and plasters himself against your back, trapping you between him and Cassian.

“Please,” you whine again when his lips move from yours in favor of tracing down your skin. His fingers are hot, impatient as they glide across your body, gripping and squeezing every inch of you. Cassian’s doing much the same, and the feeling of the both of them against you is overwhelming in the best possible way.

Azriel hushes you, nipping at your earlobe. Over your shoulder, he makes eye contact with Cassian, who nods. Oh-so slowly, does Azriel take his cock in hand and tease it through your seam, notching the head of himself right against your hole.

“Do it,” you breathe, already arching backwards into him. Azriel doesn’t waste any time, and the both of you release a long, drawn out hiss as he slowly edges his cock into your ass.

“You okay?” He mutters into your ear, though he doesn’t think he could stop himself if he fucking tried. You’re too tight around his cock, if he doesn’t squeeze his eyes shut, he’s going to cum, and he hasn’t even given one full pump inside of you yet. Hell, Cassian hasn’t even worked himself inside of you yet, either. He needs to chill the fuck out.

“More than,” you groan in pleasure. Your fingers curl into the back of his thigh where you’re holding onto him for dear life. “Cass, baby, please!”

“Alright, baby,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your mouth, distracting you as he presses slowly into your cunt. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”

And they’re so big. Gods, it’s like they’re fucking ripping you in half. You’ve never felt better though, being stretched by the both of their cocks almost makes the apocalypse and everything you went through worth it.

Azriel grunts at the feeling of Cassian’s cock grinding slowly into you. He can feel it through the wall of muscle that keeps him away from Cassian, and holy fuck, it’s better than anything he’s ever done before.

When Cassian comes to an agonizing stop, his hips meeting yours, there’s a stillness in the air. The three of you take a deep breath as one, and it feels like everything that has been waiting to click into place finally does.

It feels like you can finally breathe.

The three of you are attached as one, and you know that in this moment, that there is no leaving each other again. All for one, and one for all.

You love them, and they love you, even if no one is emotionally available to admit it in this very moment.

“Move,” you grit, before you take matters into your own hands.

Neither man wastes a fucking second, and you cry out loudly as they both begin jerking their hips into yours.

“Oh, my Gods,” you moan loudly, uncaring if the sounds you’re making seep through the floorboards to the floors above. You wouldn’t care if you took the mountains down with your pleas, with the noises they’re forcing out of your body as long as they keep fucking going. “Don’t stop!”

“Never,” Cassian agrees huskily, and you can hear the promise in his voice. He readjusts his hands under your ass, keeping you upright. He revels in the way your fingers drag down his muscle, how your other hand is thrown behind your head, keeping Azriel close as you kiss hungrily. Cassian watches, enjoying the view.

When you and Azriel break apart, it’s because your head is too busy falling back against his shoulder in pleasure. Azriel’s hazel eyes meet Cassian’s heady look. The both of them are sweating, beads mixing with the water that’s still pouring from the spout above. This is unlike anything either of them has experienced before, that either of them ever thought could happen. They found you, and you’ve all accepted each other. It’s a match made in fucking hell, but there’s nothing better.

Cassian can’t take it any longer. You cry out when he shifts forward, capturing Azriel’s mouth against his own. It’s a messy kiss, one where they grapple for dominance, but it’s so fucking hot that it has the pit of your stomach coiling. Their cocks drive into you even faster as they kiss, more teeth than anything, and you trip into your orgasm, gripping onto them as they continue to plunge into you.

Both men rip apart to watch your orgasm ripple over you. You’re so fucking beautiful, and you arch, preen under their heavy, hungry gazes. Fuck, you want their eyes on you always, you’ll do anything for it.

Your body tremors with pleasure, tightening around their cocks in a way that makes them release twin groans of pleasure.

“I’m not going to last,” Cassian pants, and Azriel agrees with a choked moan. That, and the way that your eyes flutter open, your face contorting with pleasure so quickly after your first orgasm, is Cassian’s undoing. He cums with a loud groan, jerking his hips into you once, twice, thrice more before he’s emptying himself inside of you.

The feeling cascades over Azriel last, and he cums, burying his head in your neck. You moan as his canines pierce your skin, harsh but not enough to break skin. You’d be worried about the feeling if you weren’t drowning in fucking pleasure, the feeling akin to what you’ve come to fear the most. Instead, you bury your fingers in his black hair to keep him in place.

“One more,” Azriel encourages softly, voice weighed down with pleasure. His hand snakes around your body and his fingers find your clit, rubbing in tight circles. Cassian groans when you tighten around them again, milking their cocks for all their worth. To help you out, Cassian dips low and sucks one of your pert nipples into his mouth.

You cum again with a scream that nearly shatters the glass shower door.

“There she is,” Cassian grunts against your wet skin, cuddling you close when you deflate into his chest. You whimper when Azriel slowly removes himself from your ass, and Cassian cradles the back of your head. “You did so well, pretty girl. So good for us.”

You can only nod, exhaustion weighing your limbs.

“Sleep,” Azriel encourages, and his hands find your body in a soothing motion as he helps clean you off. There’s a light press of lips against your cheek but you don’t know if it’s Cassian or Azriel’s doing. Maybe both. You let your fatigue carry you into a dreamless sleep, entrusting both men fully to care for you.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

DBD Taglist: @writingsbychlo @kemillyfreitas @5moremin @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @waggel36  @bionic-donut @queserasera @applepie02 @azrielsbabyg @arcadianmoonlight @pradaxstyles @illyrian-dreamerdreamer @reiincarnatiion @fuckthatfeeling @shadowsingersmate24 @poppyalice2001 @fallmyriad @sstrohma @tcris2020 @jeannineee @21stcenturytaegi @ochiolism @secretly-here @harrystylesfan2686 @i-am-infinite @lees-chaotic-brain @eternallyelvish @lilah-asteria @randombibitch @st4r-girl-official @nanisearchinginnerpeace @aemondsb1tch @chxosangxl @marigold-morelli @w0nderw0manly

[cripplecharacters]

hello!! I am making a rewrite of a. Very very bad comic. Now, my MC is a disabled trans woman (knee chronic pain sustained from a pretty mundane highschool track injury, im not one to do tragic disability storylines, seeing as I’m physically disabled and that trope sucks). This ask isn’t about her, though. I’m planning to add a sort of cameo of a main character from the original comic, Shanzay (the comic spelled it Shanzey but no ethnic group actually spells it that way, so… white ass comic writer). Her original disability is caused from. Ableist trope after ableist trope. It’s not gonna come up how she was disabled, since it’s a cameo of my MC helping her and her girlfriend with furniture around their house, basically a plot device for her to tell her about the club the MC and her friends are gonna visit, which causes the main inciting incident of the story. I would, however, like to change how her disability happened, even if it comes up, because it’s REALLY handing itself over to the ablebodied gaze (essentially, perfectly vertical eye scar and cataract caused by abusive father doing unspecified thing to her eye that only her mom is traumatized by, not her apparently). If y’all can come up with either really stupid mundane accidents to cause it or a way to draw the scar so that it’s not stupid and unrealistic lmk 😅 to clarify my physical disability is POTS, and very likely but undiagnosed reproductive disabilities, so I don’t have the experience that people with half blindness or other eye related disabilities might here

Hello!

So the perfectly vertical scar is unrealistic for a couple of reasons. Main one is that very few scars are perfectly pointed in any direction, especially not traumatic ones (surgical ones might be but I'm not familiar with any procedure that leaves a vertical scar through someone's eye). Second, for the eye specifically, it just doesn't make sense anatomically (?) since eyes tend to be set deeper in the skull so that this exact thing doesn't happen - they're sitting in two big holes surrounded by bone. The third is that if someone did actually get slashed in a face with enough force to make the second point irrelevant they'd likely either die or have something much more significant happen to them (behind eye is where the brain is stored, so...). Or at least lose the eye, since the globe just got cut in half.

With this in mind, you have a few options.

A: Leave both the monocular blindness, scar, and backstory in and just make it make more sense. For example, maybe she was hit (can fit the original cause) and had an orbital fracture (can leave a scar or just general asymmetry in the area), it got infected and she started having eye problems (endogenous endophthalmitis). I'm honestly not sure how probable cataracts would be here since it's really mostly a progressive condition, but if she was to receive some sort of trauma to the lens then a cataract could form there. Just keep in mind that other things would probably happen as well, it'd be impressive to hit only one specific eye structure (whilst doing it hard enough to cause a permanent problem).

B: Leave the cataract and scar. Hell, they can be unrelated. Maybe she developed the cataract as she grew older and also had a scar from, IDK, (there really isn't anything that results in that kind of scar so cut me some slack) a laceration from some machinery that she had when she was younger and had to get it stitched up, which left a more-or-less vertical scar. Keep in mind that if she has an eyelid scar, that will affect its functioning - for example, if it sticks out, she might not be able to fully open the eyelid.

C: Leave the cataract and give her a more common kind of scar instead. This is easy since literally any scar will be more common. Some ideas; hit the forehead on the roof of a car while getting in, had a tumor that had to be removed, born with a facial cleft, got a really bad skin infection, had meningitis, boiling water fell from a stove top, needed brain surgery, born with (anterior) encephalocele, minor injury that she kept picking on and it healed poorly, family dog bit her, broken nose from getting accidentally elbowed in the face by someone, car crash where she hit the dashboard with her head, part of skin had to be removed due to skin cancer... The choice is yours. Literally anything would be more realistic and interesting (since the vertical eye scar is just treated as a visual quirk the same way a mole is rather than a Thing caused by Something most of the time and a Thing caused exclusively by swordfighting the rest of the time).

As to drawing it, you probably could make the scar either less extensive with the same severity (e.g., only shows on the brow bone and cheek) or make it more severe with the same extensiveness (it does show up on the eyelids and general eye area, but there is visible asymmetry, skin/bone indentation, ptosis, etc.).

The thing below is something I drew really quickly right now for reference, IDK how helpful it is but just be aware that the way eyes are placed in the face is designed to specifically avoid things getting into them. So if you're bypassing that, the actual structure of the face has probably been changed.

Hope this helps!

mod Sasza

[gogotti]

Helpful Hands - Michael Myers/Reader NSFW

omg I'm back? I had to come back with a fic about my baby daddy of course ;) If theres any warnings i missed please tell me! I hope you enjoy!!

Warnings: Fem reader, Stalking, y'all don't fuck but he's there lmfao, several squirting mentions, reader is way to focused on getting that nut out LMFAO

(I dont have my normal border so this'll have to do lol)

God, was this needed; a solid 7 inch silicone cock dragging against your ever-tightening walls, its thickness drawing breath after breath from your tired form and making your eyes roll further into the back of your head. Every push and pull of your sore wrist was worth it, every bounce you forced your aching thighs to make sent shocks of well-earned pleasure right up your spine, and you couldn't help shoving your face further into your pillow- your ass further into the air. Whine after whine, you kept up, building that undeniable pull in your core closer to its release. 

Every moment you spent fucking yourself stupid now was worth the excruciatingly slow hours of your workday. It was the only thing you thought about when you excitedly hopped off of the bus and nearly skipped home, a stark contrast to the sluggish walk you had throughout the horrible day. Your boss had a sick up her ass for one. Rather she newly didn't have a ‘stick’ up her ass since you could hear talk of her breakup from office loudmouths, it didn't help that everyone had something to do for Halloween so you rushed to finish your end of the project so they could get home sooner, and of course you had chosen the absolute worst pair of shoes you owned simply because you were feeling yourself a bit too much after your morning routine. 

As soon as you got the notification that your package had arrived, all the pain from the day didn't even exist, hell, no one existed at that point- not even the dude wearing his slasher costume way too early in the day, who coincidentally ended up at every turn you took. 

While the loud thump coming from somewhere in the house didn't go unnoticed, it definitely went ignored. Nothing could pull you from the rhythmic in and out of your dildo, the filthy squelching coming from your sopping, creamy cunt. Like earlier, nothing else existed, especially not the slight thumping coming from down the hallway moments later; It's not like you could hear it over the thrumming of your heart or the pathetic whine that spilled from your lips as you finally, fucking finally, found that mind melting spot deep in your cunt. 

A part of you wished you had someone under you, that the cock was of flesh and blood, just so you could feel them twitch inside you at the mewls you let spill from your spit slicked lips. Maybe they’d pull you up by your hair and swipe the drool from your mouth onto your face, making you even messier- maybe going as far as sticking their fingers in your mouth and making your string of spit become akin to a faucet. You couldn't stop yourself from clenching down onto your dildo, whining at the sinful thoughts filling your brain as it nearly spilled out of your ears at the pleasure. 

The click of your door closing behind you was ignored, much like the worsening pain in your wrist as your orgasm drew near. You continued pumping the cock in and out of your pouring hole, the thought of cleaning your squirt soaked seats couldn't even solidify in your head as your orgasm crashed into you like a wave. Your eyes squeezed shut like your cunt attempted to around the thickness of the dildo; you cried pitifully into your pillow, a mouthful of ‘yes, yes, yes’ and pleas to no one fell from your mouth while you spilled onto your bedsheets. It was a moment of embarrassing grinding before you stilled; even then, you couldn’t think through the remnants of your orgasm- cunt twitching around the girthy cock beneath you.

None of the ragged breaths you took could have prepared you for the sudden handful a pair of suspiciously wet hands took of your waist. You couldn't move, period, but even if you could you wouldn't have moved fast enough to avoid the hands lifting you off of the dildo beneath you, only to slam you down harder than you had the whole time it was in you.

Harsh ups and downs flooded your body, and bedsheets once again, with an overwhelming pleasure you couldn’t help but scream at. You wished you had half a mind to yell at whoever was behind you, to do anything but weakly give into the powerful hands that controlled you, instead, your wrist only got half a break and your thighs ached even more as you moaned pathetically on your silicone cock. You could feel the black and blue marks forming on your hips and you couldn't care less; your meaningless overstimulated babbling fell to deaf ears as they forced another orgasm out of you, quick and blinding. It was only when you pulled the dildo out of your tired cunt did the hands stop, though whoever was pulling on your puppet strings did not approve, as the animalistic growl that came from them was as frightening as it was arousing. 

[apricot-blossomss]

hihi!! may i please request an apollo x reader where he pleads for them to take them back after a minor argument, and apollo, in the heat of the moment and feeling petty, breaks up with reader

☛ apollo broke up with you over a stupid argument and begs you to take him back

☛ sfw, angsty, fluffy ending; tw: self deprecating thoughts; thank you for 100 followers!

He messed up. Badly.

His hand shook over the paper but he couldn't think of another verse. Or rather: there were so many swirling around in his mind, expressing regret, loathing himself, worshipping you and asking for forgiveness, that he couldn't find one to write down. With a frustrated groan, he buried his head in his hands.

"Lord Apollo?"

"Hm?" He said, begrudgingly looking up from his miserable laments and at the Muse Clio. She, as well as her sisters, had free access to the god's sacred gardens, though he would have preferred solitude right now. And he could not bear her pitiful looks, even though it was Clio's standard expression.

"I was sent by your high father," she said and came closer to the bench were the god had sprawled out all the heartbreak and breakup songs he had written in the last forty-eight hours.

"Sit," he said without putting away his pen. Instead, he started writing, but even though his words would have brought the highest poets to shame over the mediocrity of their verses, it still didn't feel enough for you. If he wanted to get you back, he'd have to do it properly, with the most masterful piece he had ever written.

Clio sat down on the small part of the bench that wasn't covered in music and lyric sheets, letting her eyes scan over them. Jeez. Whoever you were, you had to have done quite the number on the god. When she looked at him, he was feverishly scribbling on a fresh paper, looking like a madman. "Your father," she began carefully. "urges you to leave these gardens to tend to your godly duties."

"Tell him to shove his urges up his ass," Apollo grumbled and earned a skeptical look. "Come on. I'm sure you'll find a nice way of expressing the same sentiment."

"I have another message, from your sister," she added and he grimaced, a bitter feeling at the back of his throat. "Tell her I won't have her mockery." The muse fell silent, sad, worried eyes tracing his features.

"You can leave now," the god said in a monotone voice and without another word, Clio was gone. As so often in the last fort-eight hours, Apollo felt the tears sting in his eyes once more and leaned back to drape an arm over his face. But the darkness only brought the image of the fight back.

How could he have been so stupid, so hurtful and petty? It was an argument about a fucking a/c unit. It hadn't even been an argument initially. Just harmless banter, until he had overstepped and said something hurtful. And when you snapped back, he had felt hurt and lashed out. Stupid. He was so stupid. The whole thing started spiraling out of control until he had shouted back the fateful words.

"If you can't take a joke, maybe we're not right for each other"

The guilt ate him up from the inside. The image of your widened, teary eyes was burned into his brain, he saw it every time he closed his eyes, and every time he did, his heart squeezed so painfully that he wished someone would take mercy on him and shoot him with his own arrow. And no ink in the world would draw the pain out. Only one thing could- you.

You scrubbed aggressively at your kitchen sink, even though it really was not to blame for your current situation. "Stupid," you muttered to yourself as you forcefully scoured at a stain at the side of the sink. But it wouldn't wash away a bit. "Fucking thing," you muttered, scrubbing even harder. Finally, you gave up and took a deep breath through your nose. "Fucking shit"

Your doorbell rang and you ignored it. Like the last two days, you would self isolate and obsessively clean your house- that was how you coped with having the most stupid, petty idiot of a god as a boyfriend- now ex-boyfriend. The thought stung. And even more so, because as much as you would like to pretend it was, this wasn't all on him. The bell rung again, and you sighed, throwing your towel in the sink and opening the door with a little more vigor the necessary.

"Can I help y-" The words died on your tongue. Cool, silver eyes had you forgetting how to articulate a single word as the woman in front of you looked you up and down. She was gorgeous, in a wild way. Dark hair braided and of truly majestic posture, in a flowing dress and a bow over her shoulder. You felt your whole being shiver at the sheer might of her presence- something you only felt with Apollo, only that it felt much warmer and exciting with him. Your mouth knew before your brain registered her appearance. "Lady Artemis"

"You," she said, and the tone of her voice had you stiffen up, as if she had shouted. Her scrutinizing stare had you sweat and you dug your fingers into the palms of your hands nervously. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Th-thank you," you stammered, too panicked to think of anything else to say. Was she here to take revenge on you? Apollo would never allow that, that you were sure of. But who knew whether they cooperated?

"Your appearance doesn't live up to your reputation," she said coldly, but it didn't sound like an insult. The goddess studied your expression and sighed, a hint of exhaustion in her tone. "It must be something else about you then. Something that warrants this level of drama."

"I was hardly the one who started it," you bit back and regretted the words the second they left your mouth. Biting down on your tongue, you winced at your stupidity. "Please forgive me, that was out of line." Great. Insulting her brother in front of Artemis was surely the best move.

"He thinks the same." You looked up at her and were surprised to find her smiling a very slim smile. "You should see him, he's an absolute mess, drowning in his guilt."

"Oh," you said, without a hint of worry or remorse. Instead, you felt a sense of relief. He cared. He felt guilty. He was drowning in his misery. Artemis lifted her brow at your neutral expression and you shrugged. "It's nice to be appreciated."

"You are appreciated, alright," the goddess said under her breath as she remembered the tortured sappy breakup songs her brother had been bothering everyone with. Sickeningly enough, he was really good at those, so everyone was getting depressed. Even though Artemis tended to spend her time away from Olympus, she herself could feel the effects of this misery. And she was sure many gods would breathe a sigh of relief once the whole mess was settled.

"Look," she said, pinching the bridge of her nose as if she was having a migraine, which of course wasn't possible for gods. "Can you just take him back, mortal? He's awfully broken up and making everyone miserable."

"I'm not asking him to take me back," you said stubbornly. You may have had your part in the argument, but he was the one who ended things and your pride didn't allow for you to crawl back to him. "If he wants me back, he can tell me himself, I'm very sorry."

There was a short but noticeable silence. Then: "I understand." The goddess smiled. You were starting to live up to her expectations. "But he's just as stubborn as you and he won't get his ass down here until he has crafted 'the perfect song' to ask for your forgiveness." The thought did make your insides flutter. "How about a deal? I'll take you to my temple and make him fix this on the spot."

Not daring to refuse the proposal, you nodded and her hand got a hold of your upper arm. "Close your eyes" Instinctively, you followed her instructions. Even though you felt nothing, not even a hush of air, when you opened your eyes, you were in the most magnificent hall you had ever seen. Marble all around, with a high, open ceiling and trees invading it through the windows. A mix of ancient monument and forest.

When you turned around to ask the goddess whether this was Olympus, she was gone. You were alone, as small as an ant between the towering walls. They were so monumental it was almost claustrophobic- or rather, the opposite. Just as terrifying. The space made you feel tiny and insignificant and with those feelings came an unexpected dread:

What if he didn't want you back?

Why would he? He was a god, he could have his pick of hundreds of millions of people, people that were prettier than you, smarter than you, more exciting than you. It was like the walls were threatening to crumble, your breathing picked up and you tried to breathe through your mouth slowly, but not getting enough air only accelerated your sudden panic. What if he came in here and told you to go, that he didn't need you, didn't want you? That you couldn't even take a joke and you shouldn't be with one another? The scrutinizing look in her eyes as Artemis had looked you up and down was burned into your memory. Your appearance doesn't live up to your reputation.

He wrote you songs, you tried to remind yourself. He was being petty, that why he broke things off. Artemis says he regrets it, she said he wants you back. But you couldn't believe it- not really, no matter how often you tried to tell it to yourself. He wants you. But why would he? He loves you. Why you? There was no clock in the temple, of course, but it had been some time already . Would he even show up?

The tall stone doors were opened with such force they met the walls in a loud bang. Flinching hard, you shot around and saw him standing there, in between the doors that were creaking in protest of being handled with such force. You met his eyes and in that moment you knew you had already forgiven him. If a gods eyes could be bloodshot, his were. His usually effortlessly perfect hair was disheveled and his hands covered in ink. They hung powerlessly at his sides, as if they didn't know what else but the door to use their strength on. He looked like shit, and you felt love swell in your chest.

But you couldn't let him know. Pressing your hands to your hips, you lifted your chin. "I knew you'd come back" Liar "I just wouldn't have thought it would be this quickly," you said, sounding much more self assured than you had ever been in your life, much less now.

The god walked towards you, as if he were dream walking, raising a hand like he was about to caress your cheeks but slumped down in front of you instead, kneeling before you on the marble floor. "I am a fool."

"Yes," you said, nodding and gulping down the burning in the corners of your eyes. Because you couldn't stand the self loathing in his features, you studied a blooming cherry tree that was waving through one of the tall windows. When you felt hands on your hips, your own hands shot down but when they met his, your fingers curled around his and he let out a long breath.

"I am such a stupid, stupid moron," he emphasized and you finally managed to look down at him. The genuine regret in his eyes took your breath right out of your lungs. "Please... my love..." His hands closed around your smaller ones and he brought them to his face to put his head in his hands. You let him. "Please, forgive me. I was so stupid, please, take me back. Love?"

"Hm?"

"I'm so so sorry"

Not trusting your voice, you started caressing his cheeks and he sighed into your ministrations, kissing the palm of your hand softly. Teary eyes shone up at you and you looked back. Just when you opened your mouth to formulate an answer, he tightened his hold on you, while simultaneously reaching behind himself to grab a stack of scribbled-on paper out of nowhere and pushing it into your hands. "I tried to make the perfect one for you, but I failed. I'm sorry, my love."

As you read through the words, your heart started beating loudly in your chest. In disbelief, you read them through as the god still clung to your body. "Are these ... about me?" you whispered as your eyes skimmed over words of adoration and love, of appreciation and utter devotion, of little things you did that you had never noticed, or you had thought mundane- but he hadn't.

"Yes," he breathed. He didn't make a sound when he rose to his feet, though still hunched over in shame. His warm hands massaged your waist as they were carefully scanning your expression for your reaction. "Do you like them?" You had to like them, or he would lock himself in tarterus and throw away the key.

"I-" you stammered, voice hoarse. All your doubts, all your anxiety of being good enough... as you read through the words, they slowly erased them bit by bit. Your fingers were shaking so hard the paper trembled in your hands and you could feel the tears well up in your eyes. "Love?" He sounded worried, and you had to make yourself look up from the beautiful words to smile at him. "Yes, I like them. They're beautiful."

Thank god. "I'll make it all up to you, I swear," he said gravely, taking your face into his hands. "I will compose and sing operas to your magnificence, I will grant you every wish, I will never make you cry again, I promise"

"You just did," you laughed through your tears and pressed the stack of paper to your chest. "Can I uh- can I keep them?"

"Of course, silly. They are yours," he hummed, looking into your eyes with a look in his eyes you couldn't quite place. Maybe longing. Desperation. "Please, my love, take me back and I shall never make you suffer again."

"Alright," you said, smiling up at him and wiping away the saltine wetness on your cheeks. "And- I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that, you didn't mean it like that and I was just being stupid and overthinking and- I'm sorry."

Vehemently, Apollo shook his head and shushed down your apologies. "No no no, love, this was on me, just on me. I hurt you, I made you cry and I ... I can't get that out of my head." His voice sounded strained.

"Apollo?" Now, it was his eyes threatening to overflow with tears. "Why did you come back?" He looked at you as if you had just said the most bewildering thing ever. "I mean... you could have just left me. But you didn't." A small, bitter laugh escaped you. "I lied, you know? I didn't know if you would come back, I thought you might just not care that much."

"How could you ever think that?" he asked, as if he really couldn't believe it, and you laughed. "Because I hate myself?" It was meant to be a joke, but your puffy eyes and sniffs didn't do a lot of convincing on that end, you feared. The pained look in his eyes almost made you cry again, not even for your sake, but for his, because how could someone look this tortured and not break apart.

"You are the most amazing woman- the most amazing person- I have ever had the privilege of loving," he confesses. "I love you."

The genuinity in his words took your breath away, and you didn't get a chance to get it back because his lips crashed onto yours in a heated, desperate attempt to convince you of his words. Your arms wrapped around his neck and you kissed him back feverishly as relief flooded your whole body and you started relaxing in his arms. He could feel you slumping against him and chuckled into your heated kiss, angling your head just right for him to deepen the kiss, holding you securely and dipping you down. You giggled, fully entrusting him with yourself, and he smiled through the kiss.

"You are divine," he groaned, placing kiss after kiss on your swollen lips and you laughed lightly before the way of it was swallowed by his loving ministrations. "Says the literal god."

"APOLLO!"

Flinching, you broke away from the kiss just enough to see a very pissed off Artemis standing in the doors of her temple and glaring at her brother who frowned right back. "You're interrupting, sister."

"You are in my temple! How dare you do this in my temple you little shit?" When she whipped her head around to you, you buried your fingers in Apollo's tunic, already seeing your life flashing before your eyes, but against all expectations, she gave you a genuine smile. "If you don't want to take him back, I might still have a spot for you under my followers, you could join my huntresses, dear."

"That is a very gracious offer, but I fear I have to decline it, I'm sorry," you apologized and she tutted, though she didn't seem resentful.

"Ha!" Apollo grinned and she smacked him. He let her, grinning boyishly and hositing you up into his arms. You didn't protest, you were too dazzled by his unbelievably bright smile that had your heart explode into a thousand bubbles that popped all over your stomach, tingling. "Love, how do you feel about getting out of here?"

Waving at Artemis, you couldn't help your own smile. "Bye! And thank you, my lady!" She gave you a small smile and exchanged a look with Apollo that was more firm. Smiling at her, he glanced down at you and tightened his hold. "I know."

"Go!" his sister told him, shoving his shoulder, and in the flash of a second, you were surrounded by trees and flowers and sweet smells. A garden. Unmistakably divine, because no mortal place could be of such beauty.

Apollo set you down on a golden bench and sat down himself, pulling you into his warm arms. A long sigh left your mouth as you smiled at him, at his beauty, his smile, his shiny eyes. It felt so intimate, the way he was smiling back and pressed a kiss to your temple, huffing out a warm breath against your skin that was slowly warmed up by the sun. "Where are we?" you finally asked.

"My gardens," he answered, caressing your face with trails of sweet kisses. "Do you like them?" You nodded, admiring the colors as he was worshipping your face with his lips.

"Do you want to have them?"

"What?" you laughed, turning to look at him and fully convinced that he must be making a joke. But the expression on his face was undoubtedly honest. "N-no thanks," you mumbled and rested your hand on his shoulder. Your fingers interlaced with his.

"Do you know what Artemis told me before she happened to mention you were waiting for me at her temple?" Shaking your head, you started playing with his fingers when his captured your ring finger and his lips ghosted over your ear in a way that had you shiver in spite of the warmth of his sunny gardens. "She told me if I wanted you back forever, and if I loved you as much as I said, I should just put a ring on it."

"What?" you laughed instinctively, because you had built a wall around the topic for the both of you. What you had with Apollo wasn't permanent- it couldn't be, because you weren't permanent. What was he even talking about?

"I mean it," he said, so earnestly that the laughter died on your tongue. He brought your hand up to his lips and pressed his lips to your knuckles, your ring finger. "I would drag myself through eternal suffering for a life you. If you preferred a mortal life, I'd leave Olympus for you. I would kill anyone who hurt you, anyone ever made you feel small. I'd do everything for you, and I don't want to regret anything more."

Breathlessly, you searched his features for deception. "Apollo... you had thousands of lovers before me. Why me?"

He looked thoughtful and absentmindedly drew circles on your thigh. "You're right. I have loved plenty, and I have loved deeply every time. But even though it was genuine, it was never long, and that always worked for me, in some way." You felt the caress of his adoring eyes on you as you stared at your hands, trying to process his words. "It wouldn't work with you, never. And I would never be okay with it. I want you forever- or at least for as long as possible, as long as you want to."

There was a downside to dating Apollo, and it was the fact that your stammered confession and your attempts at wooing him with loving words crippled pathetically next to his flawless love poetry, his sure words and articulation. You really didn't know how to possibly give him an answer, other than leaning up and kissing him, as gently as the summer breeze, and thinking: if you could have this forever, what more could you need?

When you broke the sweet little kiss, you couldn't suppress a giggle and he raised an eyebrow at you. "It's just..." you grimaced. "I can't believe we broke up over an a/c unit."

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[a-small-safe-place]

His Haven Pt. 2

Homelander x Psychiatrist!Reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

As the weeks passed, Homelander continued to integrate himself into your life, blurring the lines between patient and "friend." One evening, after a particularly intense session, Homelander broached the subject of spending more time together outside of the therapy room. "I was thinking," he began, his blue eyes searching yours, "maybe we could grab a bite sometime. You know, outside of this place." Your heart sank, torn between the genuine connection you felt with Homelander and the professional boundaries you knew you needed to maintain. With all your other patients, you had discussed boundaries, but not with the members of The Seven. The Deep, A-Train, and Queen Maeve viewed these sessions as a waste of time. Starlight and Black Noir had kept a very professional relationship. You weren't totally sure why Black Noir still came to the sessions since his sessions were spent in silence, usually with him drawing pictures of Buster Beaver and his little buddies. Starlight was the only one that used the sessions for what they were meant for.

You had not thought you needed to set boundaries with them, and that, since these were America's greatest heroes, the boundaries were obvious and unspoken. Oh, how that had bitten you in the ass now, having to turn down the offer. You let those boundaries slip by allowing Homelander to come to your house, but in that situation, there was not a lot you could do to stop him.

"I appreciate the offer, Homelander, but it's important to keep our relationship within the confines of our sessions," you replied carefully, trying to hide the conflict in your eyes, unaware that he could hear your heartbeat and smell your nervousness. Homelander's expression shifted from hopeful anticipation to a subtle disappointment that cut through you. "Right, professional boundaries," he said, a forced smile tugging at his lips. It is the kind of smile that does not reach his eyes. "I get it." You could not let his dangerous expression get to you.

The following sessions became strained. Homelander seemed distant, his usually confident demeanor replaced by an air of vulnerability and irritation. You should be thanking him that he is interested in you. He attended sessions less frequently, and when he did, the conversations were stilted. It was clear that your rejection had affected him more than either of you anticipated. Homelander was not willing to give up. You just needed a chance to come around.

One day, after a difficult session, Homelander lingered in your office. "Is there something you're not telling me?" he asked, his tone a mixture of frustration and hurt. Homelander knew you did not have a partner in your life. He had stopped by to do a thorough search of your home while you were out, and there was no evidence of you dating someone, not even the smell of a casual hookup still lingering on your skin. You sighed, maintaining the professionalism that defined your role. "It's not that I don't value our sessions, Homelander. But crossing the boundaries of a therapeutic relationship can be detrimental for both of us," you explained, your words hanging heavily in the air. "I want what's best for you, and sometimes that means maintaining a professional distance."

Homelander's jaw tensed, and he stood abruptly. "So, I'm just another patient to you, is that it?" His eyes bore into yours, searching for a hint of vulnerability that matched his own. "No, Homelander, you're not just another patient," you replied softly, your heart aching at the pain evident in his eyes. "But I have a responsibility to ensure that our interactions remain focused on your well-being." He stormed out of your office without another word, leaving you with a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. Homelander is a dangerous and unpredictable man. The once-promising therapeutic alliance had crumbled, replaced by an unspoken tension that hung in the air during each subsequent session.

Days turned into weeks, and the divide between you and Homelander deepened. He attended sessions less frequently, and when he did, the conversations were strained and unproductive. Of course, for Homelander, he still had his time with you even if you were oblivious to it. Though, he would much rather be in your arms than jacking off on the building next to yours while you participated in a similar activity in the warmth of your bed. 

One evening, after a silent session, Homelander was particularly grumpy in this session. He had expressed that he had a bad day. Homelander lingered at the door. "You should be fucking thanking me,” He pauses. “I am giving you the opportunity of a lifetime, and you're fucking throwing it away. Do you know how many people would leave their whole families just for one glance from me?”

The weight of his words settled heavily on your shoulders as he walked away, leaving you alone in the empty office. It made you wonder how dangerous Homelander really was and how desperate he would become if you continued to deny him. The once-promising connection had fractured irreparably, and the professional boundaries you fought so hard to maintain had come at the cost of a genuine connection with Homelander.

The weeks passed with a lingering tension between you and Homelander. The once-promising therapeutic alliance had crumbled, leaving behind an unspoken rift that seemed insurmountable. Homelander attended sessions less frequently, and when he did, the conversations were strained, devoid of the genuine connection that had defined your earlier interactions. It became evident that your rejection had affected him more deeply than either of you anticipated. Homelander, usually the embodiment of confidence, now wore an air of vulnerability and loneliness that tugged at your conscience. The sessions were marked by long pauses, resentful glances, and a palpable discomfort that neither of you could ignore. You couldn't shake the feeling of regret that lingered each time you saw him. The haunting realization that you had sacrificed something meaningful for the sake of professional decorum weighed heavily on your conscience. Late one evening, a knock echoed through your home. Homelander stood at the doorway, his usual confidence replaced by a vulnerability that mirrored the man you had glimpsed in the early days of your sessions. "I need someone to talk to," he admitted, his voice a whisper.

[kazutora-kurokawa]

Helloo! It's my first time requesting:)) I love your fics lol. You write so good!!

Can I please request yandere bonten men with a slightly chubby bimbo reader who's insecure about her weight. She's bubbly, gullible and naive. They caught her talking to someone who's tryna hit her up. For the nsfw part can I please get belly bulging 😔

no? *sigh* fine.. here's my offering..

🫱🏼(‿o‿)🫲🏼

Yandere!Bonten!Mikey x Chubby!Insecure!Bimbo!Reader

♡ NSFW, fem reader, wife!reader, mention of Sanzu and Bonten execs, brief mention of murder, gun use, lowkey naive!reader, size kink, belly bulging, big dick!Mikey, spanking, unprotected sex + creampie, kinda rough sex, not proofread ♡

note: I didn't know if you wanted a poly relationship or separate, so I just chose Mikey (I couldn't do all of them, I'm sorry but my brain is fried), I'm trying to keep the note short so anything else I have to yap about is in the tags

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You, your husband, and the Bonten executives were out at one of their nightclubs, trying to enjoy the little bit of time they had to spare due to their demanding jobs. You were in your cutest little dress, Mikey's favorite dress to be more precise. The one that hugged your curves just right and drove him damn near insane from how bad he wanted to rip it off of you.

Bonten had all gone their separate ways throughout the night, essentially leaving Sanzu in charge of watching you. He walked away from the booth you were sitting at for not even five minutes just to turn around and see a man, who he recognized as one of your coworkers, sitting across from you and quite obviously flirting with you.

Sanzu's first thought is to get this man away from you, by any means necessary. He walks back over to the booth, drawing his gun and pressing it to the man's temple.

"I don't know if you know this, but this lady right here is my boss's wife. So I suggest you move unless you want a piece of metal in your brain."

As soon as he's made aware of the situation, Mikey gets security to escort the man out the club, you can tell he did it because he has the slightest of smirks on his usually blank face. He sits down next to you and pulls you into his lap, his hands gripping your thighs tightly as if to give you a warning.

"What did I say about talking to strangers?"

"But he's not-"

"Don't talk back to me, I could have this whole place burned to the ground in a matter of seconds with that bastard trapped inside."

Soon, the rest of Bonten comes over and surrounds you at the table, naming off all the things they could do to your coworker.

"We could send some of our men to his house, teach him a little lesson without-" Koko tries to suggest.

"Or we could just take care of him ourselves." Sanzu interjects, itching to whoop some ass.

They couldn't care less about the man being your coworker because employees are always replaceable and they know Mikey would rather you not work with him anyway, so they all silently agree to take care of him permanently later on. For now, Mikey has to take care of you. He excuses himself, dragging you from the club into the car, and as soon as he gets you home he's bending you over the kitchen counter and pushing your dress up past your hips.

"C'mon baby, you know better than to test me like that, don't you?"

Mikey brings his rough, calloused hand down on your ass, smirking as he hears the little squeak that slips out your mouth. He grips your soft hips, his bulge pressing right against your pussy through your panties. He unbuckles his belt and pulls his pants and underwear down. His fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, tugging them down your plump thighs to reveal your soaked cunt.

“Look at you, all wet and ready for me.”

His middle finger slides back and forth between your folds, brushing lightly against your clit and making you weak in the knees. He lines himself up with your entrance and eases in, his fat cock stretching you out and causing a painful yet pleasurable burning sensation deep in your stomach. You can feel the tip of his dick knocking against the inside of your tummy, bulging through and pressing you firmly against the counter.

"Fuck! You're squeezing the life outta me."

"T-too big 'Jiro.."

"Too big? C'mon you can take it baby, you always take me so good."

His hips slap against your ass as he thrusts hard, his hand burying itself in your hair and pulling you off the counter to get a deeper angle. His free hand reaches around, cupping your tummy and applying pressure to the bulge formed there.

"You're so full of me, aren't you baby?"

All you can do is nod hurriedly and spew out nonsense in the form of moans, too fucked out to form a coherent thought, let alone a sentence. He presses soft kisses down your neck to your shoulder, his thrusts slowing down as he feels your pussy clenching around him as you cum. He lets out a raspy grunt shortly after as he starts to cum, filling you with his hot, gooey load.

He chuckles breathlessly as he pulls out, high off of his orgasm as he watches his cum leak out of you and drip down your thighs.

"You did so good princess. Gonna start behaving now, right? No more talking to strangers yeah?"

You mumble a soft 'Mhm' as your legs start to give out and you lie against the counter.

"Good." He peppers kisses on the nape of your neck before fixing his pants and helping you walk to the bathroom, knowing that he wouldn't have to worry about anyone stealing you away.

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Taglist

@arlerts-angel @i-literally-cant-with-this @trevengersprincess @giugiette @katkusuo @happy-trenchcoated-impala @drunkcheesecake @darkstarlight82 @reiners-milkbiddies @manji-hoe @southside-otaku @xxchthonicreaturexx @evergreen-endo @hanmaslilslut @dystop4in14nd @mysouleaten @mdsbabygirl

[p3achyxdoll]

Countertop Caresses and Free Use Confessions

I reached over the kitchen island to grab the empty glass Master had left out after breakfast, deciding to clean up the space. 

Maintaining the house was one of my duties, but there weren't expectations on my time. As long as I finished my daily tasks, the order didn't matter much. I was his bimbo, his doll, but also his good little housewife and maid. 

As my fingers made contact with the cool surface, ice cubes rattling against the side, my mind wandered to the last time he'd used them to tease my body...

How the ice had trailed across my hard nipples and been pushed into my molten cunt for his amusement.

Picking up the glass, I drank the last few mouthfuls of Master's chilled water before placing it in the sink to be cleaned. The cool liquid helped somewhat, but the desire now raging in my stomach wouldn't be settled so simply.

Distracted by thoughts of his fingers—his mouth—I didn't realize when Master appeared behind me. 

Not until he roughly grasped my ass cheek.

He pushed my dress up easily enough next, and given I wore nothing underneath, he had easy access to me. The satisfied groan he made in the back of his throat made my heart flutter. 

I'd pleased him. 

Master pushed against my lower spine and bent me over the countertop without any resistance. I was his to manipulate, after all. His to use freely. 

Anywhere. Anytime. 

I gasped, then whimpered, when he dug his fingers into the soft flesh of my hips, both surprised and excited. 

Free use wasn't something that went away when the cleaning needed to be done. I was his—always. And I made no move to stop him or pull away. Instead, I spread my legs in complete acceptance.

Master dug his fingers in harder, drawing out a whimper from me, before letting go and slapping the left cheek punishingly hard. "You weren't looking flustered enough, doll," he said.

His hand drew back again and slapped the other cheek.

The pain was sharp, and it made me jump. But my back arched and pushed my ass in his direction more. Even if my mind told me I should flinch away, my body's reactions reminded us both how completely wrapped around his little finger I was.

Another four swats to each cheek; my breathing became labored. My thighs trembling. My cunt dripping wet. 

Needy.

I wanted him to pick me up, press me against the kitchen island, and fuck me until my entire world started and ended with one word: Master.

But then he stepped away and smoothed out the wrinkled fabric of my dress like it had never happened.

Like he hadn't played with my body and mind.

"Thank you for using me, Master," I panted, remembering my manners just in time.

After a moment, which felt longer than it should have, he finally spoke. "Do you know why I hurt you just now, slut?" His hand trailed up and down my thigh and over my covered pussy once more. “Tell me.” He withdrew again when I didn't answer immediately.

But the damage was done. I felt the absence of his fingers immediately and struggled not to clench my thighs together for the added friction.

"Yes." I risked straightening to face him. "Because I'm your property."

"Because I wanted to," he clarified. "I wanted to hurt you, wanted to feel you in my hand. I could have done it gently. I could have warned you. Maybe I could have even made it enjoyable for both of us, a hand on your pretty pussy. But . . . I chose not to. I chose to touch you in a way that was only enjoyable for me. .

"I told you I'd teach you how to be my perfect fucktoy. This is the first lesson, the basic truth from which every other lesson comes: my pleasure. It's the only thing that really matters. Sometimes you'll feel good too, others you'll hurt. And it is always my choice. Never yours." He pushed a lock of fallen hair behind my ear. "And today, you didn't look flustered enough."

"And now, Master?" I looked up at his taller stature with wide eyes. My hands itched to reach back and soothe my aching ass cheeks. 

But I wouldn't.

Not without his permission.

"Now, my little doll, your cheeks are flushed, and your cunt is ready for me. You look like a well-kept slave."

"Will you take me?" I couldn't help asking it. My voice husky and desperate. I knew it was brazen of me but didn't care.

"No," Master said with a light chuckle. "But if you're a good girl, maybe I'll let you suck my cock later." He nodded to the glass. "I have to get to work, and you should too."

"Thank you." I nodded eagerly. “Thank you," I whispered.

[bvidzsoo]

Love Me Like A Rockstar (8)

ー☆ Chapter 8: Own My Mind

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

ー☆ Warning: cursing ー☆ Word count: 8.3k ー☆ Genre: university!au, enemies to lovers!au, rockstar!au ー☆ Rating: sfw ー☆ Summary: Love. You wanted none of it. You had already been heartbroken very badly once, you didn't wish to go through that ever again. But the Universe works in intricate ways and, somehow, you found yourself webbed up in a local rockstar's life, Song Mingi. He was everything you expected him to be, yet nothing like you imagined him he would be. What happens when you find mutual understanding and have heartful conversations? Will he be able to break down your walls? Will you be able to chase away his darkness?

A/N: Hello, lovelies! I'm back with a new chapter and let me tell you, ever since I've started writing this there's been little changes to the plot here and there, but...we should all thank Song Mingi for the way he's been acting this weekend for bringing a major change to it (i wanna kms ha-ha *dies in pain*) Anyways, I have a love-hate relationship with that man right now, don't mind my dramatic ass. Please listen to Maneskin's Own My Mind before or while reading this chapter, just the usual! If you want to be added to this story's taglist, just leave a comment on this post and you'll be added! Also, the drawing our girlie is talking about that is on her bed (later in this chp.), is absolutely waterbomb Mingi and it's a call-back to chp. 4 hehet. I have a surprise at the end of this chapter lol. One last question and then I'm going, should I do a Q&A surrounding this story? Like, if you have any curiosities about it, you can send in an ask and I'll gladly answer it! ^^ I hope you'll enjoy this part and, as always, let me know your thoughts about it!

Taglist: @orshii @or5i @lovely-red2 @scarfac3 @juicy-red @sunaswifes-blog @voicesinmyhead-rc @teez-the-time @maru-matt @kyeos4ng @deathbyyeekies @chicksmoothie @mjlbn01 @xhexy @sharksandminhos

⟨Series M.list ↭ Previous Chapter⟩

♫Playlist♫

            I shivered as I hurriedly shrugged off my jacket, backpack discarded the second I stepped inside my warm home, the loud thunder cut short as Mingi quickly closed the front door behind himself, hissing and groaning. I turned my head to watch him struggle out of his worn-out jacket as I stepped out of my shoes, hardly believing that from just a few minutes out in the rain, even my socks got soaked. Mingi’s head shook as his body trembled, and I couldn’t help but chuckle as I watched him. He looked quite hilarious with his black hair sticking to his forehead, glasses so wet he couldn’t see through them anymore, loose clothing now sticking to his lean body like a second skin.

“What’s so funny?” Mingi playfully furrowed his eyebrows as he took his specks off, shaking the water off the glass, as wiping it against his already wet clothes wouldn’t have helped him in ridding his glasses of water.

“You.” I mumbled with a chuckle as I peeled my cardigan off, skin covered in goosebumps as my damp skin was exposed to the chilly air in the hallway. Mingi rolled his eyes, and placed his glasses back on as I took off towards the wardrobe by the stairs, chewing on my bottom lip. Mingi would have to change out of his wet clothes, unless we wanted him to catch a cold. I couldn’t leave him standing there like that, shivering and sniffing as he already sneezed loudly. His apology was sheepish, but I just flashed him a small smile before opening the heavy door of the wardrobe. There were minimal chances that the box I was looking for was still inside the wardrobe, considering the fact that my mother would go on a cleaning frenzy every month and throw out almost everything inside the house that she deemed unusable anymore. Therefore, there were almost one to zero chances that the box I so vividly remember having placed here ages ago, was still in its spot.

“Uh, do you think I could use the bathroom real fast?” Mingi asked, voice sounding unsure as I kneeled down in front of the wardrobe, eyebrows furrowing when I didn’t spot the box right away.

“One second, let me find something.” I called out, leaning forward as I pushed my mother’s long coats hanging in my face out of the way, and disappeared further into the wardrobe as I pushed and pulled at the thick blankets she kept in there. I thought about giving up for a second, about her having thrown out the contents of the box I was searching for, but I gasped when I felt the sturdy cartoon underneath my fingertips. With a triumphant smile, I pulled on it, a few scarfs and my very old Hello Kitty beanie falling out in the process. The box felt heavier than I remembered it to be, and my heart settled knowing that my mother didn’t throw it out. But that didn’t mean it didn’t start beating wildly once I sat back on my heels, box placed in front of me. A chill ran down my spine, and I knew right now that it wasn’t because of the chilly air and my damp skin. Whatever still remained inside this box…is what I never had the strength to throw out, to fully get rid of every memory lingering of Yunho. I gulped, chewing on my bottom lip as I hesitated opening it up. But there was another loud sneeze, and as I briefly glanced at Mingi, I couldn’t help but notice the light red tinge on his cheeks as he typed away on his phone, completely soaked. I really had no other choice but to open up the box of pandora.

And a lump formed in my throat when I finally opened it, a stale scent hitting my nose. My eyebrows furrowed when a golden butterfly necklace sat on top of everything, a harsh reminder of all the gifts Yunho would buy for me during our relationship. I have thrown out all the gifts, except this one. It was expensive, and frankly, too beautiful to be thrown out or gifted to anyone else. Gulping, I pushed the necklace aside and sighed as I dug around the box, jaw clenching at the three sketchbooks getting in my way. They were filled with drawings of Yunho and myself, of all the places we’ve been to, of all the places I have wished to visit with Yunho. Of all the memories we have once made, and of all the memories I wished we could’ve made. Being an artist was amazing, but at certain times it was a nightmare in disguise, brain able to conjure such vivid images that never happened, that it could fool me into thinking that they have actually happened. I sighed quietly as I felt eyes on me, and finally found what I was searching for. A fuzzy and faded knitted sweater, a plethora of colors mixed together, from beige to a light purple, black and silver in the mix too. I pulled it out of the box, together with the grey sweatpants, and cleared my throat as I stood, hands burning the longer I held the clothing in my hands. I felt guilty, almost disgusting as I neared Mingi again, trying to avoid his eyes as he had an easy look on his face, smiling despite continuously sniffing.

“These are the only male clothing we have in the house,” I said as I reached my hands out, looking at Mingi’s chest rather than eyes, “hopefully they’ll fit you.”

“And if they won’t, you can always give me one of your colorful fuzzy cardigans.” Mingi’s tone was playful and I chuckled, giving him a playful glare. Those cardigans would never fit his broad shoulders. The tightness was gone from my chest as Mingi took the clothes from my grasp, a thankful look on his face. The guilt remained, but it wasn’t so pressing anymore.

“You can change in the bathroom downstairs,” I pointed towards the closed door across from the wardrobe, “towels are in the cabinet above the toilet. Do you need a hairdryer?”

Mingi shook his head with a smile and gave my soaked hair a light tap, “Thank you, Y/N.”

The way he seemed to linger on my name sent my heart into a dumb frenzy, and I found myself flustered beyond, emotion so foreign I forgot how to speak for a second. And Mingi didn’t miss it, fuck, because he walked away with a smug smile towards the bathroom and paused in the doorway for dramatic effect, before disappearing with a damn wink. I huffed, glaring daggers at the closed door as I scurried to shove everything fallen out back inside the wardrobe, closing its door rather harshly. I licked my chapped lips and raced up the stairs, throwing the door to my room open and taking a second to take in its state. My desk was messy, but that’s just how it always was, I couldn’t do much about it right now. I opened the blackout curtains, however, the weather already gloomy enough to cast shadows inside my dark room. I flinched as another thunder rumbled through the sky, and grabbed the first clothes I found in my closet, walking to the bathroom upstairs.

After having changed into wide legged leggings that had cotton on the inside, I quickly threw on a white tank top and a soft pink mock neck sweater, sighing in content as warmth finally enveloped my body after I have dried up the dampness on it with a towel. I skipped down the stairs as I had a towel around my head, messily towel drying my hair, completely missing the tall form standing at the foot of the stairs as I stumbled into him. I yelped, but Mingi quickly steadied me by the elbows. Before I had the chance to pull the towel off my head, two large hands grabbed at it and started softly rubbing the towel against my wet hair. I froze, everything inside me stopping as even my breath stilled, eyes wide open. Mingi said nothing as he continued with his actions, quietly humming to himself. I was afraid he’d be able to hear my loud heartbeat as I breathed through my mouth, lips parting as I struggled to calm down. I was thankful for the towel hiding my face, because I could feel the blush spreading down from my cheeks to my ears, and even neck. I couldn’t remember a time when I have blushed this hard, and it made me feel slightly disoriented. For God’s sake, Mingi was simply towel drying my hair for me, why was I having such a visceral reaction to it?! My mind seemed to be screaming at me, but I was too busy trying to regulate my breathing, doing so quietly, as Mingi’s hands became a little rougher, almost pulling on specific strands of hair. My eyes narrowed as he turned my head left to right to his likes, and I groaned as his fingers dug into my scalp.

“Hey, stop it!” I whined and slapped at his hand, making Mingi chuckle as he ruffled my hair to the point I had strands from the back falling into my eyes.

“Oh, good,” He was still chuckling, “for a second there I thought you had fallen asleep with how quiet you were.”

Despite not being able to see his face, or anything if I looked ahead, I could still peek down and see his feet. I was standing on the last step of the stairs, and with an evil grin, I jumped down, his naked toes falling victims to my attack. Mingi yelped loudly, and I cackled as I pulled the towel off my face, smiling at him smugly.

“Serves you right since my hair is all knotted up thanks to you.” I raised my eyebrows at him as Mingi had his right leg raised, massaging his toes with a pained expression.

“So you break my toes?!” He exclaimed, his deep tone a few octaves higher, making me snicker to myself as I threw the towel at him, making him yelp and look at me with an appalled expression on his face.

“Stop being a baby,” I stuck my tongue out at him as I walked towards the front door to lock it before I went inside the kitchen, “And wear some slippers before you come to the kitchen.”

Mingi was closely following behind me, ignoring my words, “What, one of your dwarf slippers? It’s either my toes or heels will be dangling off.”

The image was funny in my head, but I ignored it in order to throw him a scrutinizing look, “The tiles are cold in here, you’ll catch a cold.”

A wide smile spread on Mingi’s lips as he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed in front of his chest, biceps bulging underneath the tight fabric of the sweater, “You’re so cute when you worry about me, doll.”

There goes the pleasant exchange we’ve been having up until now. My voice became devoid of any expression besides the glare I threw at him, mirroring him as I crossed my arms in front of my chest, “I’m not cute. I’m merely saying you’ll probably catch a cold since we’ve been out in the rain not even fifteen minutes ago. And since you’re a singer you should be taking a lot more care of yourself.”

Mingi remained silent for a few seconds, until I watched a light hue tinge his cheeks. Was he blushing because I was lecturing him? Just what in the hell?!

“You’re right, sorry.” Mingi mumbled, but showed no intentions of actually following through with my words as he walked further inside the room, sitting at the table, feet up on the chair as he hugged his long legs to his chest. For such a tall and broad man, he looked extremely tiny sitting on that chair right now.

“Uh,” A little confused by the turn of events, I looked around the kitchen, trying to remember the initial purpose of me coming here, “Right. You don’t like tea, so we have coffee or hot chocolate to warm us up, which one would you like?”

Mingi’s eyes lingered on me for a second too long, taking in my whole being before his eyes settled on my face again, a smile so genuine settling on his lips that his eyes were sparkling, “Hot chocolate is fine.”

I hummed, a little breathless, then turned to open the cabinet above the microwave to take out two tall mugs for the hot chocolate. For some reason, I didn’t mind Mingi’s eyes following my every move as I tinkered around in my kitchen, taking everything I needed in my hands to prepare them on the counter. The thought of having Mingi inside my home, sitting in my kitchen, wearing my ex’s clothes, acting like we’ve been friends since forever seemed to hit me at once as I froze for a second while pouring water inside the second mug, Mingi’s mug. And what was even more surprising was not finding any thoughts that suggested that this was wrong, that I shouldn’t be doing this, that Mingi didn’t belong inside my kitchen. I didn’t want to dwell more on why it all felt so right, so instead, I watched as the mugs whirled around in the microwave, locking these thoughts away for later…I knew they’d come back late at night to haunt me, it’s just how it always was.

Mingi clearing his throat gained my attention as I glanced back at him, and tried not to look too long. The way Yunho’s clothes perfectly fit Mingi’s form was alarming, albeit the sweatpants seemed to be slightly too long for Mingi. I’ve had Yunho’s clothes since highschool, which was a few good years ago, yet they still fit Mingi. It made me wonder if the two ever exchanged clothes or wore something matching, like best friends would do for fun. I know Yunho had once mentioned having matching rings with Mingi, but back then I was too jealous about their closeness to ask any further questions about any other matching items they had. And it was a little surprising just how well Mingi’s skin tone was complimented by the colors of Yunho’s old sweater, Mingi’s necklaces sitting on top of the knitted fabric. That sweater was one of my favorite’s while Yunho and I were dating, Yunho always seemed to be glowing when he wore it. At some point I had even forgotten that I still had it. Perhaps I should do something about the contents of that box, join my mother next month in her frenzy cleaning marathon and throw out its contents.

The microwave pinged and I took the two mugs out, realizing that Mingi and I had been staring at each other for at least a good minute, my cheeks flushed again. A soft chuckle was heard behind me, but I ignored it for my own sake. The silence didn’t last for longer as I opened the little packages containing the hot chocolate powder to pour into our cups, “This might sound crazy, but I swear I’ve seen this exact sweater on Yunho quite a few times.”

I froze, thankful that I had my back to Mingi as panic flashed over my face. Deep breaths, I had this. Mingi didn’t have to know, I could lie my way out of this. And so, I forced a small smile on my face as I faced him while walking to the fridge, “Really? Well, coincidence, maybe. It’s my cousin’s sweater, he forgot it here once, but as he lives overseas he never came to get it and my mother just placed it away for when he comes to visit us.”

I didn’t have one single male cousin. Let alone cousin’s that lived overseas.

“Oh,” Mingi mumbled as he picked at an undone string on the sleeve of Yunho’s sweater, “Yeah, that could be it, a coincidence, I mean. Besides, my memory is a little fuzzy, I might be wrong.”

I gulped away the guilt that suddenly bloomed in my chest and grabbed the whipped cream, raising it up, “Whipped cream for your hot chocolate?”

I grinned at Mingi as he slowly shook his head, “I drink it simple.”

“Really?” I asked surprised as I walked back to the mugs, “Not even with marshmallows?”

Mingi shook his head with a small smile and so I mixed his powder with the warm water, handing it to him. Mingi had a fond smile on his lips when he took it, his cold fingers lightly brushing against mine, making me blush like a stupid schoolgirl who has a crush. And I do not have a crush on anyone, let alone on Song Mingi. I swiftly turned around, hoping that Mingi didn’t notice me blushing as I quickly put whipped cream in my hot chocolate and stuck two marshmallows in it, putting everything away quickly. I turned to face him as I took a sip, leaning against the counter. Mingi sat in a cross-legged position on the chair as he had the mug in his hands, ring clad fingers wrapped around the warm ceramic. I couldn’t help myself as my eyes lingered on his painted nails, slowly trailing up to Mingi’s face. His black fluffy hair fell in his eyes, obscuring his sharp eyes slightly as they were devoid of the black eyeliner now, a few blemishes tainting his otherwise glowing skin around his jaw, glasses slipping low on his tall nose, and plump lips red and slightly wet from how much Mingi always licks his lips. The simplicity of his whole being has never looked more attractive than right now, and as Mingi opened his mouth to say something, I was startled by such alarming thoughts, and so I hurried out of the kitchen.

“Let’s go up to my room!” I called out, on the brink of crying from all these stupid emotions I was suddenly feeling, trying to calm my crazily beating heart. Who allowed my brain to think in such way of Song Mingi? When did I even start considering him attractive? He was annoying, obnoxiously loud, arrogant and irritating, there was absolutely nothing to like about him or find in him attractive. I had to get a grip of myself right now! Mingi’s footsteps were dull as he followed after me, probably surprised that I had waited for him at the top of the stairs, unknowing of the storm inside my head, matching the raging storm outside. Lightning flashed every two seconds, skies rumbling with thunder, shaking even the ground at times. I hated storms, but suddenly it wasn’t as unbearable as before. When Mingi stood next to me, I lead us towards my room and pushed the door open, leaving it like that as Mingi walked in once I stepped aside for him, allowing him inside my safe space.

I have never been consciously proud or embarrassed of what my room looked like, the thought of what others thought of it absent up until right now. As Mingi walked further inside, head turning each and every way, taking everything in, suddenly I realized I was scared of what he would think. My walls were painted a light grey, on purpose, and there was little to no space left bare except for the wall on which the window was. My bed was pushed up against the wall to your left just as you walked inside, sketches that I have done throughout the years plastered up and put on display, my very first drawing even making it up on my wall. It was my little personal museum, a way of reminding myself of where I started out and how much I have evolved ever since, and even how much I was still changing as I was experimenting with my styles, learning a new technique in the class of Mr. Yoon. The desk across from my bed was messy, like I have said, it was littered with everything I needed to have at hand. Pencil holders filled to the brim, at least five of them, then there were brushes and little paint tubes littered all over it, notebooks and discarded sketches sitting underneath it, with my laptop hanging just a little dangerously off, not having paid much attention where I have put it this morning. A plain canvas was spread out on the little free space I still had, a project I had planned on starting today, now postponed for tomorrow. The wall above my desk had three modest shelves filled to the brim with books and some vinyl’s I have started collecting not long ago, pots and plants hanging off from the sides. The wall around the shelves was decorated by posters and pictures of my favorite bands, a few of my favorite paintings mixing in with them. The little stand next to my desk had my vinyl player, plants underneath it and around it, little ones. And then in the corner there was an old guitar that once had belonged to my mother, who has had a phase back in highschool and dreams of becoming a band member, famous and rich. She didn’t have the heart to gift the guitar to anyone, so she’s always kept it and passed it on to me once I was old enough. I never had an affinity for playing any instruments, but I do enjoy good music. A mix of old and new artists making it in that mix, actually—perhaps Noir Zenith slowly becoming one of them too, but Mingi didn’t have to know that. My closet was to the right just as you walked in, and it was of dark and sturdy wood, expanding from the ceiling to the floor. I had a little mirror right on its right side, the wall above and behind it, going right behind the door even, littered with my favorite painter’s paintings. Of course, they were only prints made at the local copy shop, but that didn’t matter. Fairy lights hung above my bed and from the lamp on the ceiling. The two nightstands on either side of my bed were more organized than one would expect from me, little makeup buckets placed on the one closest to the window, charger cable and some headphones sitting on the dark wood. The one nearest to the door had pictures of myself and my mom, and of Seulgi and I on display with a little clock, its drawer so filled with notebooks that I couldn’t quite close it. Thankfully the drawers of my desk weren’t so filled, I had just rearranged them last week, one evening when I was too restless to sleep.

Mingi was quiet as his mouth was slightly open, eyes wide as he took everything in, eyes falling onto my bed. I followed his sight and was mortified to find my biggest sketchbook open and displaying a quite realistic sketch of Mingi performing on stage. It was from the night I had a breakdown and Mingi found me in that diner. Seulgi had sent me some pictures she had taken of Wooyoung and accidentally slipped in one with Mingi too, and because the image just wouldn’t leave my mind, I knew I had no choice but to draw it. I dived for the sketchbook as if my life depended on it, all of it happening so fast I hoped Mingi didn’t actually catch what the drawing—or better said, who—the drawing was of. I shut it closed and pushed it off the bed, the light thud loud in the silent room. When I turned to look at Mingi, ready to face his smug face and taunting words, I was surprised to find his attention on something completely different. Of course, I should’ve expected from a man who plays in a band to be enamored by the vintage guitar in my possession. Its body was a light blue and had cherry blossoms painted over it, something my mother admitted to doing so, which lead to an argument with her father back in the days when he had seen the “damage” my mother had done to the pricey guitar.

“Is that a Martin D-19?” Mingi gushed as he walked toward the guitar, mouth hanging open. My eyebrows raised at his knowledge about it upon one glance. To me, it looked like a regular acoustic guitar. But then again, I should’ve expected it from a music major and a guy who has a literal band and plays the bass.

“Yeah, it was my mother’s.” I answered as I set my mug on the nightstand and sat at the edge of my bed, watching the awed expression on Mingi’s face. He had placed his mug by the foot of my desk as he crouched down, admiring the guitar from up-close.

“It’s absolutely beautiful.” Mingi whispered, fingers carefully tracing its body. Not even at gun point would I have admitted my next thought, which was of just how beautiful Mingi looked in this exact moment. Lightning flashed and the ground shook with the intense thunder, making Mingi tense for a second before he turned back to face me with the prettiest smile I have ever seen on someone.

“Your mother knows how to play it?” He asked, sounding enthusiastic. I was breathless, but after a big gulp, I forced my brain to function.

“Yeah,” I answered with a small smile, “she was a big rock lover back in the days, even wanted to start her own band. But due to her parents negative reactions to it, she unfortunately had to give up on that dream and do something more ‘real’.”

I rolled my eyes at the end of my sentence, not very fond of my grandparents. They weren’t bad people, but they also treated my mother harshly, and even myself, always asking about my future plans and straight up crying when I told them I wanted to become a painter. I saw the way Mingi’s face hardened for a second, but I knew he didn’t want to talk about it as he became expressionless quickly after. I was curious what made his mood become sour so quickly, if he perhaps related to what I have said in some way, but I wouldn’t prod. If he wants to tell me, he will sometime. So, instead, as a distraction, I scooched up further on my bed and patted the mattress next to me with a lazy smile, watching Mingi’s eyes slightly widen. He looked a little shy as he grabbed his mug and rose up to his full height, steps almost hesitant as he approached the bed, making me snort. It made Mingi narrow his eyes as I crossed my legs underneath myself as he kneeled on the bed and then settled beside me, long legs extended as he playfully wiggled his feet left and right. I chuckled as I clasped my hands together, letting them rest in my lap as Mingi took a sip of his hot chocolate. The silence was comfortable between us, the harsh rain hitting the windows loudly, wind rocking trees harshly, and the lightning and rumble a constant background noise.

“Last time when we performed at Outlaw, when you didn’t come,” Mingi paused and turned his head to look at me, “you know, when we met at the diner—”

“Let’s not talk about that.” I muttered with a grimace and Mingi hummed, licking his lips.

“Right, so, that night,” His voice was quiet, lips pulling into an abashed smile, “the crowd was bigger than usual, at first I blamed it on being a rowdier night, but it turned out those people were there to see us, Noir Zenith, to see me.”

I felt a small smile appear on my own lips, Mingi looking pleased with himself despite the light pink tinge of his cheeks, “And now Hongjoong might help us sign with a record deal, I feel like everything is finally coming together. Like my hard work is finally being rewarded.”

I bit my lower lip to stop myself from smiling too wide, subconsciously reaching out to hold Mingi’s arm as he looked me in the eyes, “That’s so good, Mingi! You deserve all the praise and attention your band gets, you’re really good.”

“You really think so?” Mingi sounded small, eyes wide in wonder as he flushed more. I knew I have said some things that weren’t the nicest, and now it made me realize that Mingi never deserved hearing those things from me. Yeah, I didn’t like the guy much at the beginning—not that now I like him more—but I still shouldn’t have shit on his music, on something he pours his whole soul and heart into.

“I really do, Mingi.” I slightly squeezed his arm, hoping that he could hear the sincerity in my voice as a wide and bright smile spread onto Mingi’s plush lips, so contagious that I found myself with a matching smile on my own lips. I chuckled, for some reason not wanting to release his arm just yet, the knitted sweater soft and warm under my touch.

“Lovely seeing you slowly turn into my number one fan, doll.” Of course, trust Mingi to ruin the moment. My eyes narrowed as I sighed loudly, slowly shaking my head. Mingi chuckled before taking a large gulp of his not so hot anymore chocolate, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Now, don’t get cocky.” I rolled my eyes, pulling my hand off his arm, watching as his eyes lingered where I have touched him, “I can recognize good work without becoming your fan.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Mingi mused playfully and I scoffed, bumping my shoulder into his before I went to retrieve my laptop from my desk, “Seonghwa and Wooyoung want us to try out new genres.”

“Really?” I asked surprised as I settled back in my previous spot, knee brushing against Mingi’s thigh, “Like what?”

“Well, nothing specific, just something little softer.” Mingi pursed his lips, fiddling with the mug in his hands, “Maybe something more indie rock.”

“I love indie rock,” I muttered absentmindedly as I powered on my laptop, “and why are you reluctant?”

Mingi seemed surprised that I had caught on, but it was quite obvious in his tone that he didn’t sound very enthusiastic about it, “Because my voice is rough and raw, unlike Seonghwa’s who’s smooth and almost angelic, and Wooyoung’s who’s can reach pitches I can only dream of and has a roughness that is absolutely soft at the same time, alluring.”

“Your voice is deep and powerful, it conveys every single emotion you’re feeling when you sing, Mingi. Your raspy tone alone tells a story, even without speaking the same language I would understand what you’re singing about. But just because it’s rougher and more powerful compared to Seonghwa and Wooyoung’s doesn’t mean it’s not beautiful and enchanting, Mingi.” Occupied with typing in the password to my laptop, I failed to notice the way Mingi’s breaths became shallow, the way his eyes bore into the side of my skull, “I think your voice is unique and desirable, you should be proud of it and not look down on yourself because of it. Many wish to have what you have, so really, don’t think any less of yourself because you think Seonghwa and Wooyoung are somehow better and more alluring. It’s not true, each one of you has their charm and well…I think you’re the most charming out of the three of you.”

I didn’t expect the expression on Mingi’s face when I turned my head to look at him. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were glazed over as his sharp eyes watched me intently, his breaths loud as his cheeks were red. My eyebrows furrowed, and for a second I worried I have made him angry, but the longer I looked, I realized the look in his eyes had nothing to do with anger. I gulped and averted my eyes, suddenly feeling my heart race again, biting my lower lip and trying to ignore the overbearing proximity between us. It was only our knee and thigh touching, yet it felt like Mingi was all over me, his scent still strong despite having changed out of his clothes and getting soaked by the rain. He always had a sharp scent surround him; it reminded me of pine trees.

“Thank you.” At last, Mingi found his voice and it was lower than before, goosebumps covered my skin as the low baritone of it traveled through my body. I nodded once in acknowledgement, not trusting my voice as I went on the internet to search for some movies to watch and pass the time while we wait for the storm to pass. If it passes, “Do you think rapping would fit my tone?”

It was an unexpected question, but as I mulled over it, I concluded that Mingi had the perfect timbre to both sing and rap, “Yeah, I think it would.”

I dared to take a peek at Mingi from the corner of my eyes, and was relieved to find the intensity gone from his face, instead, a soft smile grazed his lips as he finished his hot chocolate. He leaned back and placed his empty mug next to mine on the nightstand and fished his phone out of his pocket, “I found some old videos of me at school plays, let’s see what my music genius bestie thinks of them.”

I rolled my eyes, but nevertheless peered over Mingi’s shoulder in curiosity, “Don’t make fun of me, I’m merely stating something that someone with not musically trained ears hear. You should be more thankful.”

“I’m more than thankful, Y/N.” Mingi suddenly turned his head, our faces too close for comfort, so I quickly leaned back as he placed his arm on my thigh and pressed play on a video he pulled up from his gallery.

『Do you wanna, do you wanna own my mind, own my mind?

Do you wanna, do you wanna own my mind, own my mind?

Do you wanna know what the good, good, bad things all feel like?

Do you wanna, do you wanna own my mind, own my mind?』

            The movie of my choice was simple, The Quiet Ones. Nothing better than something a little spooky while there’s a wild storm raging outside, but to my utter surprise, Mingi looked terrified after only ten minutes of watching it. We were both leaning against the headboard of my bed, pillows behind our backs, and laptop placed between our lower bodies as our legs were stretched out. And despite the laptop being between us, Mingi’s shoulder pressed against mine not even five minutes after settling in our current spots. Trying to watch the horror movie, which was one of my favorite movie’s, turned out to be a fail, and I had no choice but to give in to Mingi as he only stopped whining when he got what he wanted. And that was watching a rom-com from the nineties, called 10 Things I Hate About You. I’ve seen it numerous times already, but it never gets old. There is something about the way the actors play their parts, and the plot too, that have me coming back to it with the same enthusiasm I had for it when watching it for the first time. At first, I thought Mingi hadn’t seen it and had only went along with my suggestion because he didn’t know what else to watch, but when he started quoting Patrick’s lines as if he were the character himself, I narrowed my eyes at him and poked his arm. After some painful jabs, he admitted that it was his favorite movie and he regularly rewatched it, especially if he was in a bad mood. That was a piece of information I wasn’t expecting from someone like Mingi. He looked like a guy who enjoyed tough and brutal movies, with the occasional romance movies if a pretty girl begged him to watch it together. Turns out, Mingi’s favorite genre is romance, and he hates horror, and depends on the type of thriller whether he likes it or not.

We found ourselves joking and laughing throughout the movie, making our own commentary about it after our first disagreement. Which was about whether Patrick accepting the money to charm Kat was right or wrong. Of course, it was very wrong to play with someone’s feelings and get paid for it too, but Mingi argued that if he never accepted it, then him and Kat would’ve never gotten together. And for that, I threw in the hypothetical scenario of him accepting money from Wooyoung so that he could take me out on a date and make me fall in love with him if that meant Wooyoung could have Seulgi date him. Mingi’s eyebrows furrowed and he declined such scenario, exactly proving my point why this was so wrong then, but he remained believing that for Kat and Patrick it totally worked out. And then he had the audacity to compare my stubbornness to Kat’s, making me call him just as stupid as Patrick was.

Time flew by as our laughter got louder, completely missing the way the rain had started to quiet down as we were immersed in the movie we were watching. It felt like a bubble was wrapped around us, isolating us from the cold world, and letting us enjoy ourselves without being so cautious of what we were saying. It felt nice. I couldn’t remember a time when I was able to let loose with someone other than Seulgi. It was a nice feeling, it made me excited in some way, completely making me forget that I was doing this with Mingi. He made it too easy to forget my worries and made me feel really comfortable all of a sudden, never stepping out of line—if we ignore his stupid flirting—and always keeping everything lighthearted. It was a nice change for once.

I groaned as I let my head fall back, lips pursed as my ass had gone numb from sitting so much in one place. Mingi snickered as Kat reversed into Joey’s car, clearly amused by the snarky remarks exchanged between the two characters. He was clearly into the witty exchanges, especially between Patrick and Kat, even having said that it makes Kat attractive how quickly and well she can shut Patrick down. I had told him that she wouldn’t have to do that if Patrick wasn’t so stupid most of the time, making Mingi roll his eyes at me, and say that I simply didn’t appreciate some good banter. Which wasn’t even true, I liked bantering if it had a smart purpose, not just to rile each other up, what was the point of that?

I licked my lips as my head lulled to the right, eyes falling on Mingi’s profile as he had his legs up, leaning forward as he hugged them around his knees with one arm. He was smiling and chuckling, pretty red lips pulled to the side, showing off his white teeth. His brows were dark, and his browbone being more prominent really sharpened his face in a very aesthetically pleasing way. Mingi’s face was very beautiful, and as an artist, I couldn’t help but admire it, and recognize it. So many pretty portraits of his face could be made, pity he doesn’t model. My lips pulled into a tiny smile at the thought of him modelling for me when we had to sketch human forms for our next class. I’m sure my professor would appreciate my drawings even more. Mingi’s glasses were discarded, and my eyes paused on his long nose, biting my lower lip just as Mingi chuckled again, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palm. He sniffed before rubbing two fingers against his plump lips, wetting them not even a second later. I gulped as I suddenly wondered what they would taste like. It was such a startling thought that I jumped, but Mingi suddenly looking at me certainly scared me more. I gulped, instantly blushing as a friendly smile painted Mingi’s lips as he leaned back, placing his head on the pillow, and letting it roll to the left. Our gazes connected, and I wasn’t surprised to find my heart beating so quickly once again, my lips pulling into a straight line as I struggled to keep my breathing even. Mingi’s easy smile didn’t disappear as his eyes racked over my face, it only became wider.

There was a whole galaxy behind those beautiful deep brown eyes of his, they sparkled with life and an excitement I haven’t seen in anyone before. I wished that I could recreate that in my drawings, but I wasn’t good enough to give simple eyes such deep emotions yet. And I really wished I was able to do so, because the longer I stared into Mingi’s eyes, the more lost I got in them, thoughts and worries disappearing into nothingness. Mingi’s hand twitched for a second and I tensed when I felt a finger gently poking my cold hand. I gulped, but I wasn’t able to look away as ever so softly more fingers brushed against my skin like feather, Mingi’s bottom lip between his teeth. His actions were slow and cautious, probably afraid that I would pull away, but I was too captured by his alluring gaze to even think to move away from him. Slowly, his longer fingers intertwined with mine and his rings cut into my skin when I squeezed his hand, uncaring that it hurt a bit. I knew my cheeks were now surely very red, but I couldn’t actually be bothered to feel embarrassed, not when Mingi’s cheeks were dusted pink as well. His high cheekbones were flushed the pretties color they could have been, and I smiled as Mingi blinked, looking abashed. Somehow no words had to be exchanged between us, everything felt comfortable, scarily familiar. I haven’t felt like this…since my ex. And not even with him have I felt so safe and understood, it always seemed like there was some invisible barrier between us, and I never understood why. With Mingi, if I allowed myself to feel and be unafraid, no barrier lay between the two of us.

I gulped, eyes suddenly falling on Mingi’s lips as his tongue poked out just slightly to wet them, his plump lips red and full. I’ve never seen a person have such full lips, and it made me wonder if they were as soft as one would imagine them be. Aware that my eyes were glued to Mingi’s lips, I looked back up in his eyes, trying to ignore how insanely attractive his mole right underneath it made him look. There was something about Mingi’s bareface that was so charming and beautiful that it almost made me feel jealous of it. Mingi sniffed quietly, and his bottom lip was between his teeth again as his eyes fell to my lips, my rapid heartbeat halting for a second. Could he be having similar thoughts to mine? I wouldn’t know, but when Mingi’s eyes found mine again, they were just slightly more intense and sharper. Like he was determined and nothing could stop him. I gulped loudly as he moved his head, just lightly, but it was closer than before. My heart was beating like crazy, but almost as if I was under a spell, I found myself shifting my head just a little bit closer. Mingi’s eyes no longer were on mine, and as my lips parted when I licked them, I felt Mingi’s hand squeeze mine just a little bit more. I gulped as I proceeded to lean even closer, my eyes fixated on Mingi’s lips now too, just wondering and wondering infinitely if they were warm, soft, wet, and what they would taste like. I didn’t startle nor flinch when Mingi angled his body so that he could lean dangerously close, the bridge of his nose brushing against mine. His hot breath mingled with mine as our lips were parted, a pull so magnetic I couldn’t untangle myself from it even if I tried to. My eyes threatened to flutter closed as I pressed my nose against his, the side of our lips rubbing just a little together as I couldn’t breathe regularly anymore. Mingi’s lips pressed ever so slightly against the corner of mine, feather like, and it suddenly wasn’t enough. The distance, it was too big—even if it didn’t even exist between us anymore—and I squeezed his hand as I angled my head to finally press our lips together, Mingi’s breaths audible due to our proximity.

But suddenly, a door was slammed shut loudly, “Sweetheart, I made it home finally! I saw a car parked in front of our house, all’s good?!”

The curious and shrill voice of my mother sent Mingi and I flying away from each other, both of our eyes wide as I was panting, my whole body burning. I couldn’t look at Mingi as I scrambled to press pause on the movie and Mingi was off the bed in a flash, sprinting towards my window. I could still feel his hot puffs against my face, and I gulped as I forced myself to forget everything I felt just seconds ago.

“The rain stopped,” Mingi’s voice was hoarse, so gravely that I had to clench my fists to stop myself from doing something I would regret, “I will be going.”

“I’ll go downstairs, let my mom know you’re here.” My voice wasn’t better off, I sounded breathless. I felt lightheaded as I got off the bed, standing and pausing for a second.

“Right, I’ll change back into my clothes and then—”

“No,” I didn’t mean to sound desperate as Mingi’s eyes fell on me, I had to look away in embarrassment, “keep them, they are of no use to me.”

“Right.” Mingi cleared his throat and I quickly walked past him, thankful that he stepped aside, and hurried out of my room and down the stairs. I took a deep breath to compose myself as I heard my mother placing down plastic bags in the kitchen. I needed to behave like everything was fine, when nothing was fine anymore.

“Hi!” My greeting was high pitched and way too cheery, my mother’s eyes narrowed when she saw me standing in the doorway, “Glad you made it home, the storm was awful.”

“It really was.” My mom grimaced as she continued unpacking the groceries, “You got home alright?”

“Yeah, uhm, actually,” I gulped and bit my lower lip as I heard Mingi coming down the stairs, “a friend from university drove me home as it was already raining, and he, uhm, stayed over. Because the rain was so bad he wouldn’t have been able to drive home. You know, safety measures and all.”

My mother paused and looked up at me with both of her eyebrows raised, “He?”

And on cue, Mingi appeared next to me, glasses pushed up on his nose adequately for once and hair not as messy as before, “Hello, my name is Song Mingi.”

“Nice to meet you, dear.” My mother’s eyes were glinting, looking way too happy for someone who was just introducing themselves. I was afraid of what would come, so, I grabbed Mingi’s arm and guided him towards the coat hanger.

“Mingi’s leaving, mom.” I said as I let go of his arm, averting my eyes as he wore his shoes and pulled on his jacket.

“Already?” My mom asked with a pout, coming to stand in the doorway, “Don’t you want to stay for dinner, dear?”

Mingi froze, eyes first finding mine before he looked at my mother with a polite smile, “Don’t worry, Mrs—”

“Oh, don’t be all formal with me, I hate that shit.” My mother chuckled and winked at him, “Call me Boyoung.”

Mingi gulped, seemingly taken aback by my mother’s behavior. I couldn’t help but chuckle quietly, knowing how surprising the contrast between my mother’s personality and mine was. Sadly, I haven’t taken after her when it comes to my attitude, but that’s fine.

“Well, Boyoung, thank you for your offer, but my friends and I actually agreed on dining out tonight.” Mingi’s excuse sounded real, so I knew he wasn’t lying. I gulped when my mother threw me a very slick glare, almost saying that this was my fault. I rolled my eyes, offended by her assumption.

“That’s a pity, dear,” My mother pouted, but soon a bright smile appeared on her lips, “But you are invited for whenever you feel like having dinner with us, right, my starlight?”

I tried not to glare at my mother for the outrageous nickname, especially when I saw Mingi’s lips twitch in amusement. I told her not to call me that in front of others so many times, “Right, mom.”

My mother chuckled, all too aware of my dislike for the nickname, before her eyes landed on Mingi again. There was a brief pause, one too awkward for my liking, and then Mingi was clearing his throat and opening the front door.

“Uh,” He made eye contact with me briefly, “talk to you later.”

“Wait,” My mother’s eyebrows furrowed as Mingi stepped outside, trying to adjust the strap of his backpack, “Aren’t those Yun—”

“Talk to you later!” I loudly said, making sure to send my mother a very alarmed look as Mingi froze for a second before he hummed quietly and took off towards his car.

The air was chilly and humid due to the harsh rain, and as I closed the front door, I knew I had a lot of questions to answer when my eyes fell on my mother’s amused face.

��❱ Next chapter

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[dedeinthewild]

paul aron x reader, no labels

~ “I’m carrying my body weight in presents, so shut it"

summary : A cozy Christmas filled with family, laughter, and tiny moments of magic. As Paul and the girl he adores share sweet traditions and secret smiles, their hearts grow a little closer with every holiday surprise.

The magic of Christmas was something special—something that could mend relationships, make adults feel like children again, and bring together those who had drifted apart.

Colorful ornaments adorned towering Christmas trees, hiding the gifts underneath just a little. And if Christmas was spent with family, it became even more beautiful.

The girl Paul was closest to had caught the last flight to Tallinn before heavy snow temporarily slowed down the flow of passengers at the Estonian airport. She had settled into the beautiful villa where the boys lived. She loved Christmas, the preparations that came with it, the wonderful smiles of children, and all the little things that brought her joy.

She was the kind of person who was content with very little, always smiling beneath the glasses she wore to avoid straining her eyes—the same eyes Paul never got tired of looking into.

They hated putting labels on themselves or talking about their relationship. Between them, everything was so simple that trying to define it felt like an unnecessary complication for something so pure and clean. They had met by chance and continued to see each other between video calls, with the occasional late-night message when one of them had fallen asleep and the other needed to talk.

And so, an extra place was added at the table that year. Despite her mind telling her to spend the holidays with her family, as she always had, her heart needed to enter that home and experience something new. Everything was new for her there, except for a few people who had grown accustomed to discovering new parts of her—and adoring every one of them.

Perhaps some would call it a bold move to invite her to something as important as Christmas with the family, but as everyone thought, there was nothing more transparent than the affection she had for the Estonian driver, his family, and their traditions—not to mention the huge smile that lit up her face when she saw the children. They were so blonde they looked like a little team of angels.

“I really, really want to help,” said the girl as she sliced bread on a wooden cutting board, ready to set it on the table. Margit, who wanted her to enjoy the evening without lifting a finger, tried to dissuade her.

“If I were you, I’d let her,” Paul chimed in, stealing a breadstick from the container as he walked behind the women of the house and Ralf, who was checking whether the evening’s first dish was cooking properly.

She turned, giving him an amused look, her hair tied back in a messy bun with strands of her bangs slipping loose onto her forehead.

“Don’t look at me like that,” the Estonian said, crossing his arms and leaning his lower back against the kitchen counter.

“I’m not violent or anything, I swear,” she said, raising her hands in mock innocence toward the driver’s mother, who responded with a sweet, elegant laugh.

“I have something to say about that,” Paul teased.

“Have you decided you’re a pain in the ass?” Anna shot back, trying to chase her brother out of the kitchen by pushing and holding him by the arm.

“Everybody hates me. I’m done,” he declared, stealing another breadstick behind his back as he disappeared through the door to lift one of his nephews into the air. The child had been loudly calling for Uncle Paul.

The atmosphere was beautiful. From the kitchen island, Margit, Anna, and the family’s new addition could see the entire living room, where an explosion of joy brought color to an otherwise minimalist home.

All the children were seated around the tree, with one of the more distant uncles dressed as Santa Claus telling stories, while the Aron cousins worked on drawings that the kids would later sign.

Ralf had connected his phone to one of the speakers scattered throughout the house and started playing a Christmas playlist, making the girl wrinkle her nose.

But the best part was sitting down to eat together. The children sat at their own table, engrossed in a conversation about the latest cartoon to watch, while the adults discussed various topics.

One of the evening’s focal points was the girl herself. Sitting next to Paul, she answered an endless stream of questions from everyone. She was having fun, watching how Paul’s grandmother got emotional at every one of her answers while gently stroking her husband’s hand with her thumb.

“You’d make a perfect couple,” the elderly woman blurted out, pushing her glasses up her nose to get a better look at them. Both smiled, a hint of shyness softening their carefree expressions.

Paul passed her the dishes, asked if she’d like something to drink, and, when speaking with relatives in Estonian, would place a hand on her shoulder and whisper a translation before resting his chin on her head.

At Christmas, Paul changed a little. Amid the noisy table, he withdrew into himself, speaking only when spoken to, his gaze often fixed on the children’s table where they played. But that year, she had managed to make him an integral part of the group, encouraging him to open up and join the conversations with that radiant smile of hers.

“How are you feeling?” he asked while Anna had already whisked away the dishes to prepare for one of their family’s beloved traditions.

“Good,” she replied with a smile, looking into his eyes.

He ran one of his large hands through her hair, letting it slide to her shoulders, and smiled back. The way she looked at him—it was what anyone would call “the look of love.”

After a few rounds of the family game, everyone got up and moved to the large living room, ready to open the first gifts with the children, all of them returning to a childlike state themselves.

The girl had ended up in an armchair near the tree, with one of Paul’s older brother’s sons on her lap, giving her a perfect view of the whole group.

The girls tore through wrapping paper, revealing dolls and dresses with tulle, smothering their relatives in kisses and tying ribbons around their wrists, pretending they were at a ball.

On the other side, the boys, more focused on messing with Paul and Ralf’s hair, patiently awaited their turn to do the same, while the boys’ father tried to figure out where Margit had hidden the gifts.

“Go and set the table for Santa,” Margit said with a smile, gesturing for the kids to grab the milk and cookies from the kitchen island.

“Come with us!” A dozen excited, slightly sleepy children grabbed the girl’s hands, making her wrinkle her nose in amusement as they led her to the kitchen island, where the older kids grabbed the bowls.

Paul, sitting on the couch with Anna resting her head on his chest, watched her from a distance.

Just as he always did.

He observed the way she moved, telling stories to the children, lifting them up to set the table where they couldn’t reach, giving them high-fives that made their tiny hands disappear in hers.

She was full of nostalgia—that was something he had learned.

And seeing her like this made him so happy that he couldn’t even express it, warmth spreading through his chest and his lips curving into a soft smile.

“Why do I feel like if I ever brought a girl home, you wouldn’t love her as much as you love her?” joked Ralf, placing his hands on their mother’s shoulders.

“We love everyone the same,” she said, stroking one of her son’s hands.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you enjoy someone’s company as much as hers,” Ralf continued.

“She’s a good girl, she is,” nodded the father of the Arons, making them smile as she returned to the room with a child in her arms and the others following behind.

She looked at everyone, letting them know the table was ready for Santa Claus, and then softly rubbed the back of one of Paul’s little cousins, who was just moments away from falling asleep.

The mothers took their children to bed, changing them into pajamas with little reindeer on them and making sure they were sound asleep before returning.

“Who’s in charge of Santa tonight?” asked Anna, stretching her arms as she got up from the couch.

“Paul,” said Margit, patting his shoulder as he stood.

“Yes!” whispered the Estonian.

Christmas Eve was the one night, besides the kids, where he had no desire to sleep at all, and staying up late to put Santa’s presents under the tree and do something special made him genuinely happy.

“Goodnight then, and Merry Christmas,” said the middle Aron sibling, giving everyone a kiss on the cheek.

“You’re staying up with me, you know,” Paul said to the girl as he approached her, a grin on his face, arms crossed as he looked down from his height of six feet.

“Why did I already know that?” she laughed, tying her hair back again as the rest headed to their respective bedrooms, leaving only Alpine’s reserve driver to follow her into her room.

They changed into pajamas and crawled under the covers, finally bringing out the gifts they had hidden in plain sight.

In the chaos of earlier gift-giving, no one had noticed that the two of them hadn’t exchanged anything, so now they found themselves doing so in the intimacy of her dimly lit room.

“Do we open them now or later?”

“We’ve got hours before we have to set the gifts, so now works,” Paul shrugged, trying to hide how excited he was to give her his present. He couldn’t bear to wait any longer.

The driver handed her the box he held in his hands, scratching the back of his neck with the other as he watched her begin to unwrap it.

Behind him, one of the house’s large windows opened onto the illuminated porch and gave a small glimpse of the darkness that usually gave way to the forest.

The Christmas lights, a warm white, framed the window and cast a soft glow inside the room, highlighting her silhouette.

He, too, was opening his gift, wearing a loose white shirt with the Grinch on it, his curls lightly tickling his forehead as he pressed his lips together and carefully untied the bow.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” she said.

“I thought we were well past that kind of politeness.”

“Oh, I hate you,” she laughed, adjusting her glasses on her face.

And then she saw it. A certificate.

“I can’t read anything,” she said, turning her back to him to catch the light from the lamp on his side of the bed.

Paul took the opportunity to wrap his hands around her waist, pulling her to sit between his legs.

“The star with the following coordinates was renamed on 12/08 by Paul with the name ____.”

She read the inscription beneath the photo of a stunning star against a deep blue background, running her fingers over the thick paper of the certificate.

He had named a star after her.

And that was the most beautiful gift, the most heartfelt declaration anyone could have given her.

“I knew you’d make me cry,” she said, turning to face him.

“Don’t, or Santa won’t stop by,” he teased, wiping her eyes with his thumbs before pressing a playful kiss to her nose.

She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close to her chest as though he weren’t twice her size.

And he loved it when she hugged him like that, making him feel so warm and protected—something no one but his family had ever managed to do.

Maybe that’s exactly why she was there that night, celebrating with them, closer to him than people he’d known since he was a child.

“And, by the way, your gifts are beautiful too,” he said, running his hands gently along her spine.

They talked about presents again hours later, lying on the mattress and chatting about anything and everything, just like they always did, trying not to laugh too loudly at the silly memes on their phones.

Their hair sprawled across the pillows, the blankets keeping them warm, the scent of the room was one they both associated with rest days, holidays, and happiness.

It was that soft, cozy smell—a mix of fabric softener, love, affection, and genuine feelings.

Whenever a video was especially funny, he’d wrap his arms around her, trapping her between his biceps to muffle her laughter while trying not to burst out laughing himself.

And before they knew it, the hour of Santa Claus arrived. While he scoured the house for the gifts his mom had hidden somewhere, muttering in Estonian, she grabbed some powdered sugar and made boot prints on the parquet floor.

“There’s one for you and me, too,” said the Estonian, balancing five or six boxes stacked in his arms as he walked without looking where he stepped.

“Watch your feet, idiot,” she laughed, fixing one of the Santa footprints he’d accidentally smudged.

“I’m carrying my body weight in presents, so shut it,” he replied, starting to arrange the gifts neatly under the glowing tree so the kids could easily find them in the morning before breakfast.

“Footsteps done.”

“Santa has to eat the cookies.”

“There’s a ton of them!” she complained.

“You should’ve taught the kids better,” he shrugged, stacking the gifts carefully.

A little while later, Paul joined her at the kitchen counter, biting into the carrot meant for the reindeer.

“Oh, I forgot you’re the healthy one.”

“As if you don’t like the fit version of me.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Ah! Got you. You said yes,” Paul grinned, winking as he washed down the carrot with some milk.

“Shut up, you’ll wake the kids!” she laughed, smacking his chest as she nibbled on a cookie.

“I could get used to this,” he murmured.

And after finishing the feast the kids had prepared for Santa, they walked past the Christmas tree, smiles on their faces and exhaustion finally setting in.

“You’re ruining all the footsteps,” she scolded, noticing that with every step, the driver’s foot came dangerously close to her creations.

He looked down, realizing how close he was, and in his attempt to avoid them, he lost his balance.

But she was there, placing her hands on his hips and helping steady him, even as she herself wobbled uncertainly.

And they laughed.

They laughed.

They laughed.

With powdered sugar on the floor, the taste of cookies still on their lips, and Christmas officially arrived, he cupped her face in his hands, brushing her cheeks gently.

And in the window, they were now reflected too.

Looking at each other with the eyes of love, as the lights illuminated them.

And outside, snow had begun to fall.

~ been working on this one for a few days and if I might say so, it's really worth it. I'm kinda feeding myself my paul obsession, but hey, I didn't find him under my tree so I might as well gift him to you💫

[buckyshoneybunny]

Stings & Kisses

Summary- A Day of yard work takes a painful toll. 

W.C.- 894 

Warnings- Cursing, fluff, Bucky being the best boyfriend, all most panic attack.  

A/N- So I got fucking stung by hornets yesterday trying to do a good thing and weed eat for my grandmother since her daughter was slacking and not doing it. Was home alone and on the verge of a panic attack, had to call my dad to figure out what to fucking do. So I decided to write a drabble of Bucky taking care of reader who gets stung. This is probably trash but I hope you guys like it!!  

You and Bucky had decided to spend the last few weeks of summer break with Sam, Sarah, and the boys. It turned out to be the best part of yours and Bucky’s summer. Hot days out at the dock, shopping trips, waterpark adventures and so much more.  

You were having the time of your life.  

Today was one of the rare days it wasn’t blistering hot. Sarah had decided to take the boys school shopping, you declined her offer of tagging along. Instead, you wanted to tackle the yard, something that had gotten pushed to the side in yalls days of fun. 

After an hour of trying and failing to restring the Weed Eater, choosing to just have Bucky do it, and an extra couple of hours waiting for the batteries you may or may not have forgotten to plug in that morning, to charge. Just after lunch you were finally all set to head out to work.  

Headphones connected, phone and Weed Eater in hand, you leave Bucky and Sam to tackle putting together the two new desks that AJ and Cass insisted they needed. After AJ ‘accidently’ broke it. How do you accidently break a desk? You snickered as you listened to AJ’s lame excuse.    

You’re about half way through, everything was going smoothly. You were currently tackling a spot under a low hanging tree, there had been tall grass and brush. That was when you felt it.  

Stinging, searing pain in your right ass cheek. You didn’t have to see them to know what it was. A split-second after the first sting you drop the Weed Eater and haul ass up to the house. As you run you feel more stings, your whole body feels like it’s burning.  

Once you get a good distance away, you pause, already shaking and panicking. You look down to see one still on your shirt, you yelp and smack it away. You run to the porch, throwing your phone, headphones, and wallet, and strip off your shirt and shorts, neighbors be damned. You were thick enough on the thighs that you could sometimes wear Bucky’s boxers. Left in his boxers and a sports bra you run inside. 

Tears burn your eyes and you gasp and cough, driving yourself to a panic attack. Bucky looks up when the door opens, one look at you and he drops whatever he’s holding. You start to pace the living room, the pain almost unbearable.  

“Y/N? Doll, you okay?” He frantically asks as he walks to you.  

You shake your head, still gasping for breath you walk around him, trying to ‘walk off’ the pain. Sam furrows his eyebrows and studies you; he curses when he realizes what’s going on. 

Bucky reaches for your left elbow trying to stop you.  

“Bucky no! She got-” You yelp when he touches one of the stings. “Stung right there,” Sam finishes on a grumble.  

Bucky’s eyes widen. “Shit baby I need you to calm down, you’re gonna drive yourself to a panic attack if you don’t stop.” He gently cups your face.  

“It h-urts," you cry.  

“I know, baby I know. I need you to calm down and tell me what stung you.” 

“I don’t k-now, I w-was all yellow I think.” 

While Bucky works on calming you down Sam looks out the back door. 

“Hornets!” Sam yells. 

“What?” Bucky calls out.  

“She got stung by hornets,” he says again. Sam makes a paste out of baking soda and water to put on the stings to help draw out the poison.  

Once Bucky gets you calm, albeit you're still shaking and tears in your eyes. He gives you some Benadryl and takes the paste from Sam. He gently puts the paste on and then a band-aid over top to help the paste stay.  

“Shit doll, you got stung at least 10 times.” He mumbles, tongue between his teeth as he works 

“Those fuckers got me in the ass first,” you grumble and pout. Bucky snorts and you flick his nose. “That’s not funny,” you say despite the smile that breaks through.  

“Have you ever been stung by hornets before, doll?” He’s on his knees in front of you, having just finished taking care of all the stings, his hands hold your hips. You shake your head.  

“If you have trouble breathing or swallowing, or feel like you’re swelling up, tell me immediately, okay?” He has that concerned crease in between his eyebrows. You nod and take a deep shaky breath. 

“You okay?” He asks softly and rubs your hips with his thumbs.  

“Yeah,” you sigh and wipe your face.  

“You need anything?” 

“Some Chick-fil-a, kisses, and cuddles.” 

He grins and with a ‘yes my love’ he leaves to fetch your order. Sam goes back to putting the last desk back together while you head to the guest room you and Bucky had been staying in. You kick your shoes off and very carefully crawl under the covers. You put The Rookie on, rewatching a couple of episodes so you don’t watch anything new without Bucky.  

When Bucky gets back, he cuddles and kisses you, you both eat and watch your show. It takes you a good hour after it happened to stop shaking. Later that night you shower and Bucky puts some ointment on them with more band-aids and kisses them all better. 

[malfoysprinces]

friends, best friends, friends in love

- draco malfoy -

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Slytherin Reader

Summary: Two friends in love, eventually confessing.

Warnings: Jealousy, Hiding Feelings but with a happy ending.

Word Count: 3.5k

Author’s Note: It’s my first time writing, feel free to give feedbacks & request.

Slytherin common room was quiet on this particular night, saved for the sound of the fire crackling in the fireplace. The room was dimly lit, casting a warm, flickering light on the walls.

Y/N was sitting, peacefully by the fire all on her own until she heard his voice.

“Y/N”

With a look full of hesitation, she stared right into those grey eyes.

Oh, those grey eyes…

“Hey Draco!”

“What are you doing up this late?”

“Nothing, couldn’t sleep.”

“Come on, go to your dorm, don’t make me take any points from my own house.” Draco said, laughing.

“But I can’t sleep.” Y/N responded.

“My friends are such pain in the ass.”Draco whispered.

Yeah, your friend.

Y/N giggled.

Just when they were headed to stairs which led the way to their dorms, a familiar face appeared.

“Oh, hi Theo.” Y/N said to him.

“Oh for Merlin’s sake, this night is never going to end does it?” Asked Draco, looking tired.

“And goodnight to you too, Draco.” said Theo.

“I’m going to the Astronomy Tower, care to join?” Theo asked to both.

“Why not?” Y/N answered, hoping Draco would come.

“As your prefect I should lead you guys to your dorms, but as your friend I could really use a calming time with you guys.” Answered Draco.

Friend. There was that word again.

“Actually, I remembered that I have Snape’s potions in the morning and I could really use some sleep.” Y/N said without knowing why she wanted to get away from them- oh actually, Draco. Poor Theo had nothing to do with it. In fact he was always nice to Y/N, he was always a gentleman.

“As you wish.” Theo said.

“Are you sure?” Draco asked to Y/N.

“Yeah” Y/N answered, forcing a yawn to make believe she is sleepy.

She headed to girls dorm without looking back.

When she entered into her dorm room, Pansy and Daphne were already sleeping.

She looked at herself in the mirror, wondering why everytime Draco called her “a friend” her heart was shattered into pieces.

Y/N was distant to Draco lately. She was avoiding him at all costs. Whenever they sit together at a class, she would always ignore him, not in an arrogant way but in an cold way. Draco -being the smartest boy Y/N has ever seen- has started to realize this. He has been sensing that Y/N was drawing herself away from him for some time now.

But Y/N was forgetting something, she was the first person for Draco to come when he was feeling down. She was the first person that Draco writes to every summer. She was practically Draco’s closest but he never addressed her anything other than friend.

To him, “Draco and she was friends, nothing more. They just hang in the same group. Y/N was a friend to Draco as much as she was to Theo or Blaise.” Y/N thought to herself.

Y/N wanted to tell Draco how she felt, how she was longing for his touch without knowing how it feels, how she needs him. But there was too much at stake. She could lose Draco forever, she could lose the bond between them forever. So she decided to keep things to herself and keep her distance from Draco.

With so much going on in her head, Y/N went to her bed and fell asleep quickly.

Next morning wasn’t any different than others. The sun was shining into girls shared dorm.

“Oh! I can’t find my tie!” shouted Pansy in a hurry.

“Just check your desk, I saw it there last night.” said Daphne.

“Found it!” Pansy shouted again.

Y/N was still half asleep when Daphne came to her side and reminded her that if she didn’t want detention from Snape, she should be up in a minute.

She got ready in a hurry, causing her to forget her potions book in her dorm.

Girls entered the Great Hall for breakfast.

“Well, well, well.. If these aren’t the princesses of Slytherin.” Blaise said in a flirty tone.

“Morning.” said Theo.

And a simple smile from Draco.

Y/N smiled to Draco back and rolled her eyes to Blaise.

“Was he always like that?” Y/N asked. “Because if he was, I should really consider my friend choices.” she said in a laughy tone.

“Oh, if you call that a flirting, you should have seen Draco last night in the Astronomy Tower.” Theo said.

Of course, they weren’t alone. Of course, Theo was going to meet up with a girl last night and Draco wanted some company, as well.

“Shut it already Theo.” said Draco.

“Who is it this time Draco?” asked Pansy.

“Yes, tell us who the lucky lady was.” added Daphne.

Y/N was holding her tears back, not only because of Draco’s new girl but also she couldn’t believe how easily Draco affected her. He goes around flirting with other girls and Y/N ends up the one being hurt. How unfair Y/N thought to herself.

Y/N had seen nothing but pure love between her parents. She was raised the best way possible. Indeed, she was a pure blood, she came from a wealthy family - why else would Draco befriend her?- and she was pretty. She could pull of any guy she wanted. Any guy but him.

She could get any guy wrapped around her finger, any guy but the one with the grey eyes.

However, it was kind of funny how she was oblivious to Draco’s feelings. She meant everything to him, he would take her in a heartbeat if she said yes. His whole world revolving around her. Draco was the one to keep his feelings bottled up, that was for sure. But still, the fact that he cares about Y/N more than any other girl was obvious.

“Y/N?” asked Pansy.

No answer.

“Y/N!!??”

“Oh, sorry.” Y/N said.

“But you missed all the fun, Draco couldn’t even remember that girl’s name.” Said Pansy.

And just seconds later, everyone burst into laughter.

“Yeah poor girl must be thinking of Draco right now, but he doesn’t even remember her name.” said Daphne, giggling.

“ For Merlin’s sake! I only flirted with her so Theo could have his time with that girl’s friend.” Draco said in a serious tone staring to Y/N.

“Good boy, aren’t you?” said Y/N in a condescending tone which made Draco angrier.

It was safe to say that Draco stared into Y/N’s soul for a time which felt like an eternity for both.

Only if he knew what Y/N would do to be the one that Draco flirted- even if it is all fake.

“So now it is a staring contest?” asked Blaise laughing.

“No. And I dont even have the time for your - and I mean ALL of you- stupid crushes.” Y/N said.

“What? What crush are you talking about?” asked Draco.

“Shit! I must have left my potions book in my dorm” Y/N said. She was headed for dorm room.

Not long after, Y/N was pulled into an empty classroom.

“WHA-“ Y/N’s shout was interrupted.

“What is wrong with you?” asked Draco.

“I don’t know what you are talking abo-“ she was interrupted again.

“Oh, cut the bullshit already! You ditch on me and Theo last night and you have been off all morning?” asked Draco.

“I- erm- I am really worried about Snape’s class you know?” she lied.

“So this is what it’s all about.” said Draco. “I thought you were mad at me or something.” he added.

“You have been distant lately. It’s like one minute you are the center of the conversation, and you are gone in the next.” Draco said, worried.

“Told you, I have been struggling with potions.”

That was the best I could come up with? She thought to herself. I must be a disgrace to the house of Slytherin.

“I will help you, okay? Meet me in the library after dinner.” said Draco.

“No- I mean you dont have to.” she said.

“No, I need to fix whats bothering my best friend.” Draco winked.

Your WHAT? Now, we are best friends. If there is something worse than being friends with him existed then it would totally be being best friends with him.

“Come on, we need to get to class.” Added Draco.

Potions was boring for Y/N. Until Snape assigned the homework. A homework which was needed to be done with partners.

“I will assign your partners this time.” said Snape.

“Miss Granger, you are with Mr Longbottom.”

“Miss Y/L/N, you are with…..

“Mr Malfoy” Y/N prayed.

“Mr. Potter.” Snape said.

The anger in Draco’s eyes was visible, if not, it was felt by every single person in class. However, no one dared to state the obvious.

“Oh shit. Now it is getting interesting.” Blaise said to Theo.

“Yeah, just wait till the class is over and Draco starts whining about it.” said Theo.

As Harry walked closer to Y/N, Draco was already watching them.

Y/N and Harry greeted and started to talk about the project.

Whenever Y/N looked to Draco, he was already watching her.

But this time something was different. Draco’s eyes was not filled with the warmth that Y/N was used to see, instead it was filled with something she couldn’t name.

It was jealousy. So much jealousy that he could explode any minute now.

Slytherin group was already gone when Y/N and Potter realized that the class is over. As a matter of fact, everyone was gone and they were alone in the classroom.

“I must have lost the track of time.” said Y/N to Potter.

“Yeah. Seems we both did.” he agreed.

They rushed to outside.

“If Potter is that interesting, you can always go be his friend.” said Draco to Y/N. He has been standing outside the classroom waiting for Y/N, this whole time.

“What? We were just talking about the project.” said Y/N.

“Yeah? That must be the reason you couldn’t care to join your friends when leaving the class.” Draco said, angrily.

“Oh, possesiveness is a trait of yours, isn’t it?” Y/N asked mocking.

“Potter is my red line. Do. Not. Cross. It.” Draco said in the most serious tone possible, grabbing Y/N’s wrist.

“Too bad, he. İs my. Partner” Y/N said jokingly.

Little did they both knew, they had already crossed the red line in each other’s hearts.

“So, why do I even need to mix these things?”

“Like what on earth am I going to need these potion for?” Y/N asks, pretending to be oblivious to keep her lie going.

“Just try to memorize the ingredients and you will be okay.” Draco assured.

“Okay.” said knowing everything Draco has been telling her since the minute one.

“By the way, I really don’t understand why you stress over potions. You are the smartest witch I know.” said Draco lifting his eyebrows.

“I don’t know, it is not the class that stresses me, it is the professor. Snape is tense, you know?” Y/N shouted another lie.

“What? He is practically one of your father’s best friends. They’ve known each other since they were what? Like 11?” Draco asked.

“Yeah but still, he was always so intimidating.” Was Y/N’s answer.

“Truth to be told, I am his favourite, but you are not so bad yourself.” He said laughing.

“Well, I know he likes us, he is better to us than others.” Y/N said agrreing.

“See? He’s not so bad after all.” Draco said.

Rest of their study session went on as a chat session. Things was always so easy and calming between Y/N and Draco.

“Merlin, I missed talking to you about anything-“ Draco was interrupted by Y/N “Let’s leave, I have to check Gullygum.” Said Y/N, Anything to avoid this confrontation she thought.

“Gullygum? As your cat?”

“Yeah Draco, how many other Gullygums do you know of?” teased Y/N as she was packing her things.

The night was calm. As they were headed to Slytherin common room together the only sound which can be heard was their footsteps. As they pass by the torches lining the walls, the flickering light casts shadows that seem to dance across their faces. The sound of Draco’s breathing and the rustle of Y/N’s clothing as they walk creates a gentle white noise, as if the whole world has fallen away and it's just the two of them.

“So.” Draco said breaking the silence.

“Now tell me, why have you been so distant lately. And don’t ever think about lying to me because it is obvious you have no problem with classes.” Draco asked.

“Oh for fucks sake Draco, everything is fine. Friends don’t push each other like that.” Y/N stated, emphasizing the word friends.

“Yeah, friends.” whispered to himself Draco. But Y/N didn’t hear a thing for she was so tired with Draco pushing her to confess.

As the first beams of sunlight filtered through the small windows of the Slytherin dungeons, the house's green and silver shades appeared to come to life.

“Wake up! Today’s the day!” Daphne shouted to Pansy and Y/N.

“What day?” Y/N asked, half asleep.

“Are you serious? You forgot about it?” Pansy asked her.

“About what?”

“About the PARTY YOU SILLY!” Daphne shouted.

Oh, shoot. It’s today! The party which was organized by Daphne and Pansy, the party they couldn’t stop talking about.

The girls were already headed to Great Hall when Y/N was done dressing up.

As usual, the boys of Slytherin was waiting for their princesses at the table.

Pansy and Daphne wouldn’t stop talking about the party, how they have been planning this for weeks if not months.

In the middle of their conversation, an owl dropped a box to Y/N. The box had a letter.

You deserve the world. We love & miss you.

Mom & Dad.

And the letter made Y/N realize how homesick she was. She loved Hogwarts, she loved her friends and she loved her Draco but something about her parent’s letter made her miss her home. Maybe it was how the words they use reminded Mr and Mrs. Y/L/N’s relationship to their daughter. They had something Y/N admired. One day she dreams of having with Draco.

“Will you open it already?” said Blaise.

“Oh, let me just-“ she was interrupted by Pansy.

“OH. MY. GOD.” shouted Pansy.

“THAT MUST HAVE COST A FORTUNE.” said Daphne in a shock.

“This is so nice.” Said Draco.

“Aww, thank you guys. I must write them back as soon as I can.” Said Y/N heading towards the exit of the Great Hall.

“I envy how your father cares about you. I guess it is different when you are a girl.” Says a familiar voice.

“OH- You scared me.” Said Y/N shaking.

“Just cool darling.” Said Draco.

“I got this memory of us kids in my head. When we both fell of our broomsticks how your father ran towards you and mine just mocked me.” Said Draco.

“Oh, Dray, I’m sure you are remembering wrong.” Y/N said.

“Yeah, maybe.” Draco said.

The rest of the day went on as usual, the classes and stuff. In the evening there was a rush in girls dorm. Y/N had already picked her dress and she was getting ready for the party when she heard a knock on the door.

“Do you think you can help me with my tie- WHOA.. You look..erm- pretty.” Said Draco. “Heavenly” he whispered to himself.

“Oh, thank you. Yes I sure can.” Y/N said leaning towards him.

There was an undeniable tension and chemistry between them. Their lips were just inches apart. Draco’s grey eyes were fixated on Y/N’s eyes. The more they stay this close, the more Y/N’s hand shook. This was the closeness they were both longing for. It was almost like Draco didn’t want to let her go. Almost.

“So, I was thinking that we can go to party together since I am already here.” Said Draco.

“Yeah, yeah let me just grab my purse.” Y/N agreed.

The Slytherin common room was transformed into a grand party hall, decorated with green and silver banners, glittering streamers, and shining orbs that floated above the dance floor. The room was alive with the sound of music, laughter, and clinking of glasses, as the students of Slytherin danced and chatted, all in their finest clothes. The grand staircase leading to the upper levels of the castle provided the perfect stage for the hosts to make their grand entrance, clad in their finest robes and basking in the admiration of their guests. It was a Slytherin party atmosphere unlike any other, full of luxury, power, and excitement.

Draco instinctively put his hand on Y/N’s back, like he wanted to show everyone who she belonged to. Y/N was shivering for she was longing Draco’s touch for some time now.

Not so long after, a group of Slytherins decided to play the game of spin the bottle. Y/N and Draco were among the group, both secretly hoping the bottle would point to each other.

As the game progressed, the bottle spun round and round, landing on various members of the group. Finally, it was Y/N’s turn. The bottle spun and spun, seeming to take forever to come to a stop. When it finally did, it was pointed towards Cedric Diggory, who grinned eagerly.

Without a second thought, Cedric leaned in for a kiss. Y/N closed her eyes, allowing the kiss to happen.

Draco, who had been watching the entire thing with a scowl, could feel his anger about to boil over. He didn't know why he felt so strongly about Y/N , but he did, and seeing her kiss someone else fueled a fire deep within him.

“My turn.” said Blaise eagerly.

“I am going to call it a night.” said Draco not even glancing a side eye to Y/N.

Guilt was growing inside Y/N’s heart. But she didn’t have any choice. It was all a game after all.

Rest of the party was a usual Slytherin party. With the shock of Draco leaving the party so early, Y/N decided to call it a night, as well.

Next morning, Y/N wanted to see if Draco is doing okay. So before heading to Great Hall for breakfast she decided to stop by Draco’s dorm.

As she knocked on the door, a girl she didn't recognize opened the door of Draco's room.

“Hello?” She asked

“Who is it?” Draco shouted.

“Um-I wanted to-um…” Y/N was stunned. For a moment, she thought she can actually heart the breaking noise of her heart.

Draco came to the door and when he saw Y/N standing, he was frozen. It was clear that he spent the night with this girl.

“We can talk later.” Said Y/n, heartbroken, and jealous at the same time.

She was holding her tears back while walking to Great Hall. Not angry but heartbroken.

Just when she sat to breakfast, she felt a familiar voice approaching.

“Hey, Y/N.” said Cedric.

“Hi Cedric.” said Y/N.

“Is not that the guy she kisses last night?” asked Blaise.

Daphne nodded.

“Can I talk to you in private?” Cedric asked.

“Sure.”

They were headed to the exit of the Great Hall when Y/N felt Draco’s eyes on her when he was walking by.

“So, what is it that you want to ask?” Y/N said.

“I know this might sound ridicolus but I can’t stop thinking about our kiss last night. I was wondering if you would like yo go on a date with me?” “If you would give us the chance to get to know each other better.” Asked Cedric, hesitation can be seen from all over his face.

With the jealousy and broken heart, Y/N didn’t even think for a moment.

“ Yes Cedric.” she smiled.

“Oh, I’m happy now. I will pick you up after dinner tomorrow, so we can go for a drink at Hogsmeade?”

“Sounds like the perfect date.” nodded Y/N.

It clearly was an impulsive decision. It. Clearly. Was. Cedric didn’t even catch Y/N’s attention for once. Except last night, when she had to kiss him. She didn’t had the choice unlike Draco. Draco had the choice to not drag a girl to his dorm.

“What did he want?” Asked Pansy.

“A date.” Y/N answered.

“ A DATE?” Pansy shouted. “Not a chance” she added.

“Actually, I-“ Y/N was imterrupted.

“ Oh no you didn’t” Pansy said.

“ Sure as hell, I did.” Y/N said walking to class.

The next day went on as quickly. Y/N was getting ready for her date when it crossed her mind that she hadn’t seen Draco over a day. For them, it was a record. They were practically inseperable. Not so long ago, at least.

Y/N was headed to Great Hall to meet Cedric when she looked up and saw Draco, Theo and Pansy was sitting by the fireplace just chatting casually.

“Ready for you date?” Pansy asked which caused Draco to look at Y/N angrily.

“What date?” Theo responded.

“Oh, didn’t you hear, she is going on a date with Diggory,” Pansy answered.

“Lucky man got to steal our girl, didn’t he Draco?” Said theo.

Draco didn’t respond, he just nodded. As far as anyone can see, he was devastated.

As Y/N got back from her date, it was already pass midnight. The castle was so quiet as she walked to the dungeons of Slytherin. Y/N opened the door to the common room, only to find out Draco sitting where she left him hours ago.

The fireplace crackling sound in the midnight echoes throughout the empty Slytherin common room, adding an eerie quality to the scene. The pops and crackles of the fire seem to reverberate off the walls, creating an almost hypnotic rhythm that feels both calming and unsettling.

Did he waited for her to get back from her date?

As he waits, he stares into the flames, lost in thought. The sound of the fire is the only thing that breaks the silence of the room, and it's as if the fire is the only company he has.

The sound of the fire crackling is also a reminder of the late hour, creating a sense of intimacy and secrecy that seems fitting for the moment.

As Draco waits for you to return, the sound of the fire crackling grows softer and more gentle. It's as if the fire is signaling that something new is about to happen, that a new chapter is about to begin.

“I know I messed up.” said Draco in a rather sad voice.

“I know it should have been me who took you on this date.” he added.

The sound of the fire becomes louder and more chaotic, mirroring the rush of feelings that Y/N is experiencing. It crackles and pops, adding a layer of intensity to the moment. The flames seem to grow brighter, casting an orange glow across the room and making everything feel more dramatic.

Despite the chaos of the fire, Draco's words are clear and heartfelt.

“I know it should have been me who gets to call you his girlfriend.” he finally looked up to Y/N who was in a total shock.

“Draco” she whispered.

“I love you, Y/N Y/L/N.” he whispered. “I have always loved you and only you.”

“And I love you Draco Malfoy.” she added. “I have always waited for you and only you.”