#father you feel so empty im sorry | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yojeongin · 13 days ago

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playing dangerous | k.dy

→bff’s stepdad!doyoung x f!reader

genre: smut, semi-angst, some fluff, forbidden affair, semi-character study

synopsis: summers are meant to be spent having fun with your best friend not fooling around with her step father.

warning(s): ADULTS ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! cheating, age gap (not focused between mcs), yearning, power imbalance, massive frued psychosexual theory undertones (that old man won), morally grey characters, alluding to cycle of predation and abuse of power, manipulation, lowkey ageism, doyoung heavy mommy issues (worrying actually), oral (m receiving), cum kiss, fingering, foot play, unprotected sex, creampie, voyeurism.

wc: 15.8k || anthology masterlist || soundtrack || ao3

disclaimer: this is purely fictional; in no way am I condoning this behavior, trying to offend anyone, nor is it meant to place such image on the idol, these are only characters. read at your own discretion.

an: sorry this took longer than expected, im 3hrs late oops. the corporate lifestyle has been kicking my ass so bad (im so fucking miserable) and i wasn't satisfied with what i was going to post last week anyway so hope this is better (hope).

“Are you sure that’s your step dad and not step brother?”

Disbelief was too soft of a word for what you truly thought. When your friend had given you notice that her mother had married her boyfriend of two years (news to you), you had expected the man to be decrepit and gray haired. Not someone not too much older than what you were.

Earlier you had confused him with one of the movers who helped bring in your friend’s and her mother’s items into the new home. You went as far as shooting him a flirty smile while making way to your friend who sat peacefully on the porch swing with a glass of cold lemonade to aid her from this horrid summer heat.

“Yeah…“ she whines, throwing her head back enough to hit herself a tad with the backrest. “He makes her happy. As long as he does, I don’t care how old he is.” She felt judged by your constant questioning. As if she was the one marrying the man. As if she was living through her mother and her decisions to wed someone significantly younger than her. You were the last person she wanted to feel judged by, however could they truly blame your incessant curiosity and shock? Specifically when you never knew her mother was dating. What kind of best friend are you to not be as close as you believed?

Meghan wasn’t the youngest, the woman was sixty and this man looked to be in his late twenties. How could they blame you for your curiosity?

“So how old is he?” You shift beside her, the swing rocking with every move. “He turned thirty in February. She hasn’t had a partner since I can remember, this is good for her.” Her words attempt to convince her more than you, emphasized by the harsh desperate slurping within the empty glass.

Your friend turned 25 in February too.

“Oh wow, so since he was a kid too?” You joke. It doesn’t land.

“Y/n!” She hits your arm, you laugh in return. “What?!” You whine through laughs, this time purposely rocking the swing. “Come on…” It aches like nails on a chalkboard if she thinks about it. Meghan is her mother, she could easily be Doyoung’s mother as well. She knew Doyoung's mother.

“I know what you’re thinking.” She sighs, hands and glass on her lap. “Yes, the age gap is insane but… they’re old enough.” Your friend frowns, another attempt to convince herself and failing miserably.

Raising your hands in defeat, she smiles, continuing her playful acts of harm. “Want a glass?” She offers, you decline, your mind stuck on the beautiful man standing roughly a few feet away from where you two sat. Your head struggles to not turn his way and gawk like you’ve done earlier. It's difficult, you'll find throughout these months.

You knew you shouldn’t be fawning the way you are. After all, he is now Meghan’s husband. Meghan who has treated you like her own child since Pre-K. But God, you couldn’t help admire the way sweat rolled down his face and the way he wiped it away with the back of his delicate hands.

At this moment, you’re not too bitter about your summer plans being halted. Not when he’s noticed your covetous glances and sly grins. Perhaps that's what started it all. Your restraint, pulling him step by step to where you sat. Sweat adorning his face and forcing his hair to frame his beautiful features, glistening in this sun.

A tender smile to the public eye but a reciprocative grin to you, “Welcome girls.” He smiles, wiping his sweaty forehead with a handkerchief. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to pick you up from the airport.” He turns halfway to look at the movers entering the home. “Duty calls.”

He was cliche with his words, yet smooth enough to make your grin widen. Like a white collar in those vintage Hollywood movies. His voice, softer than imagined. He drew you in the same way you drew him. It was bound to happen.

Tina shook her head, a dismissive and polite smile. She covers her eyes from the sun which did not ambush either. Rather, it was a futile attempt to shield her emotions, easily projected onto her eyes. It’s not resentment she felt towards him. Discomfort and confusion for his decisions is.

Doyoung looks at you briefly, as if to say “I suppose we are not there yet?”, answered by your own polite smile. He dismissed it immediately, shaking his head with a slight chuckle which forced Tina to uncover her eyes, confused.

“Will you be a dear and get me a drink?” He asks when their eyes finally meet. If it means that he won’t read her any longer, Tina nods standing up. She’s out of the picture faster than he had asked without a care that Doyoung took her spot next to you.

Doyoung smiles your way, his knee bumping into yours while he settles. You return the smile, looking at the contact. Your legs criss-crossed on the swing and his rocking you both. It’s silent besides the movers and Meghan’s music inside the home. Nevertheless, this feels comfortable, scarily so for a first-time meeting.

“I’m sorry for being the reason you two had to cancel your trip.” Doyoung leans over, elbows on his thighs. His back is on full display, wet shirt clinging to the wide muscles that force your lower lip in between your upper teeth.

Your eyes don’t unglue from him, chills running across your body for such a warm day. You sigh, following a streak and bead of sweat from his temple down to his neck. “It's fine, we didn't want to walk around for hours and see old buildings.” You reassure sarcastically, although the tone deadpans.

“No? But Italy is very beauteous. Meghan recounted, you two had been planning on it as an incentive to get through grad school. I'm truly sorry for the inconvenience.”

Doyoung did not expect to be met with laughter. He was soft spoken, tender, genuinely sorrowful, and a welcoming host. Why must you laugh at him? He’s not too sure.

His quizzical look does not subside, “I was joking, Mr. Kim.” You giggle, wiping at your threatening tears. His eyebrows furrow, yet, folds his handkerchief to a clean corner, doing the task for you. He's so close. So comfortable with being this near to a complete stranger.

“You’re narrowly five years younger than I. Please don't call me that.” He defends petulantly, forgetting about what brought you both to this topic. It sounds insane and dumb to be called that as if he was his father or an old man, he was only thirty.

It is insane and so is marrying a woman who was his current age when he was born.

You hum a response, turning away from him with a slow nod. “Do you always talk like that?” Your voice lures him again, craning his head to look at you. “Like you’re a pretentious liberal arts professor.” It’s lighthearted and mocking at the same time. Your smile slowly forms and he mirrors it.

“My father is a professor. Not for the liberal arts though but perhaps it rubbed off.” “Perhaps.”

He laughs softly in light of your continuing mockery, “Y/n, correct? I fear I haven’t properly introduced myself.” Doyoung shifts in his spot, his body facing you. He extends his hand and you take it. His fingers are nimble and long, his palms clammy but soft, and his grasp is strong but delicate against your own.

Your smile doesn’t falter, thumb caressing his knuckles, an act he replicates against your own. “Yes… beautiful house by the way. What do you do for a living?" You ask curiously, met by a scolding shriek when Tina and Meghan come out with glasses of lemonade, something you did not want. Lemonade and their interruption, it's interchangeable.

"Y/n those things are not asked!" Meghan scolds, handing Doyoung his glass. He laughs, shaking his head while taking a sip. You watch some of it slip from the corner of his lip. He is such an unfortunate person when it comes to liquids, it seems. Regardless, you wondered what it would be like to clean it off of him…

Someone cleanse you of these thoughts, this is forbidden grounds.

"Why not?" You ask confusedly, looking at the components inside the cup. Nothing but murky pulp-filled sweet water. Your emotions present on your face, perceived wrongly by the only man there who felt it was your response to being scolded. "It's completely fine to ask that now, don't worry." Meghan shoots him a look, irksome at the use of 'now'. She doesn't have to wonder what he meant, only in dissecting his tone.

"I'm an aerodynamicist. Right now we're working on finding a solution to reduce the consumption of fuel." His voice is a pitch higher, tossing that pretentious tone to his words, forgetting his drink while fully turning to everyone as he excitedly gets into the topic. "The main culprit —or so we think— is the wings… let's say the wings of an aircraft. Their shape to be specific contributes to th—" Before he could finish, Meghan hums interrupting. Her words later followed, "Yeah, yeah, sounds fun. Dinner is ready so it's best we stop the chit-chat if we want something warm to eat."

Both you and Tina turn to her mother, a quick glance full of judgment and some surprise. She's never interrupted any of you when passionately speaking about your interests, this was new. Tina doesn't dare look at Doyoung though, she simply walks back inside with her still full drink in hand. Meghan on the other hand waits for him to stand up and follow her. His shoulders slumped and head low, a reassuring smile thrown your way but his dull eyes say otherwise.

"We're glad to have you girls here." Doyoung utters with a nod, turning to follow his wife. "Welcome." The only thing that leaves Meghan's lips. At the time it sounded like that, a welcoming. Now you realize she was responding to the expected devout gratitude for taking you in all those years ago and even now.

What a way to introduce their relationship to you. What a way to cement the reality of the dynamics between all.

There was a foreign air after that fateful day, something you had never expected when it came to spending time with your best friend and her mother. This was stuffy and suffocating. You chopped it to the different location, you will soon find it's the repressed feelings of everyone in this house and of those that lived before.

Meghan tried her best to not show her unwillingness towards her husband, yet it was evident to all that she held animosity for some odd reason. No amount of smiles and reassuring pats could tell any of you otherwise but they satiated him and no one would interfere with that.

Doyoung was doting and sweet. He immersed in conversations to learn more about his guests and later rewarded them with things mentioned in passing. This was his way of showing his affection. It became paternal in a way that you didn't like and in a way that made Tina uncomfortable but which she could understand. Odd, extremely so, considering he could easily be her brother. If she was to voice her dilemmas, Doyoung would fully understand. Yet like you've told her before: "If you don't speak, God won't hear you."

To you, Doyoung was yet another guy that could have been in your college classes. He made sure to act like it when he finally got comfortable and that resulted in joking and lax conversations about his interests and yours, similar to the first day. Giggles and lingering touches, too close at times for two strangers. This way he felt young and correct again.

The downside came the following day, going back to that paternal and reserved front as if he was the same age as his wife and not what he portrayed with you. Treating you and Tina like kids and that's what you both loathed about his time with Meghan. She only seemed to suck the life out of him when night fell.

Doyoung pandered to her and was at her feet with anything she asked, yet she still patronized him and shut him down when he spoke of his career and parents. Meghan never outright spoke of it but she loathed when he brought up his parents. She hated the house, the basement, the attic, the garden, and the greenhouse. She hated that damn greenhouse more than anything.

You couldn't understand where her feelings stood. She had a family, a complete family. A loving and providing husband, a daughter that would always be there for her, and an established and stable home that was all hers for the time being. What more could she ask for?

Despite Meghan's and Tina's inability to feel at home, you found yourself to fit right in in every groove.

Your bare feet are met with soft dewy kisses from the garden's grass as you sprint inside the house towards Doyoung's study. Leaving a trail of dew on the wooden floorboards. Meghan observes you from the kitchen island, pursed lips and raised glasses as you turn the corner and to the hall where those dark panel mahogany double doors greet you, brightening with every knock.

It takes three rhythmic knocks for him to know it's you. Uttering a 'come in' with a light hum. Instinctively, you smile to yourself, hand turning the now golden door knob. Not feeling the grooves of mosaic crystal and cold copper makes you frown. So does the untouched silver tray of breakfast.

You step over it when making your way inside, closing the door behind you and leaning against the cold wood when he does not turn around. Sunlight peaks through the large glass stained bow windows, his desk perfectly curved to fit into the space. The decor on the windows are your favorite.

The greens and pinks perfectly project onto his skin, making him look diaphanous. The lilies and hummingbird paint a story of near-to-death flowers seeking ailment before they perish and like the knights they are, the hummingbirds come to their aid to bring them back to life. He explained it in the way his father had, revealing his mother to be the hummingbird and his father to be the lilies saved from the misery he was in. That explains the devout love his parents had, manifested all throughout the house and the one Doyoung sought.

He now finds the story to be the other way around with no happily ever after. There's no salvation this time.

When he finally turns, he greets you with a tired smile, shoulders slumped and neck aching. He slept on the chaise lounge. The uncomfortable and awfully warm upholstered leather chaise lounge that's too short for his height. He's been there the entire day after last night's argument with Meghan over her trying to clear out his mother's greenhouse and build a shed for her crafts room. She's not content with the basement and she is not content with him giving you your individual room.

"Found you some critters." You open, his smile widens when you pull out the worn paper bag he gave you to put them in. Walking towards him, he takes it from your hands, nimble fingers gracing your drying ones. "Found these stiff on the tomato pots." You point at the caterpillars. "This butterfly was stuck to the tree trunk. Is it acting or actually dead?" Doyoung lets out a sly hum. "No… it does seem like it's near death, though." taking the butterfly out of the bag.

He looks at it for a moment, noticing the lower wings are damaged but covered by the upper wings. "There… clipped." He gently moves the upper wings with the tweezers. "Rather dramatic if you ask me. She is fine to fly but a little caring should not be bad." He stands from his seat, knees cracking to indicate his lack of movement. He places her in the terrarium, it hops around seeking the flowers you've helped him pick.

It's silent for a moment, he hums a melody while scolding the butterfly as he feeds her sugar water. You sit on his desk chair, swiveling while drumming around the taxidermy scalpels — A few of these have left some scratches on your fingers. He makes sure to lock his items inside his desk drawers, Meghan has explained her disdain and disgust for his hobby and in fear of her digging through and tossing them like she's done with the taxidermy decor, he takes extra precautions.

"Why haven't you eaten?"

Your voice makes him turn, closing the door to the terrarium. He leans against the table, crossing his arms across his chest and taking a grasp of his jaw. Rubbing it as if he was thinking of an answer. He can't lie to you though, he knows you're able to see through his lies. At least surface level, it's the small things he grants you.

"I don't like omelettes. She knows that." He confesses. "I don't like black tea and that is what's on the tray." Your leg raises, feet now dry but stained with that yellow-green hue. Your cheek rests against your bruised knee while taking in his words. He watches all your actions, biting the inside of his cheek as punishment for looking at your limbs.

"Want me to make you anything?" There's some innocence in your voice that warms his chest. Interlaced with your desire to please. Please, please, please.

He smiles fondly, eyes fluttering, and a warm feeling in his chest.

"Don't coddle me." "Generosity."

He slowly approaches you, rearranging the scalpels you played with. He looks down, analyzing you like you were one of his dissected butterflies. Pretty, soft, and delicate. Doyoung knows it's wrong to think of you this way. He's allowed Meghan to fuck the thoughts away from him but they cling to his brain while they're at it. It's vile and disgusting. The act to be precise.

"Is she still upset about the room?" You look up at him, resting against the backrest. He takes a closer look at your outfit. Denim high rise shorts, white lace short strap top, and red ribbon in your hair that he wrapped around the strands a while ago and you never got rid of. The same one he uses to decorate bigger taxidermy species like the squirrels the neighborhood cat leaves laying on the porch. You want to think it's metaphoric but you sound stupid trying to find a connection despite the words lingering in the tip of your tongue. Fresh and clear on his mind.

"I don't mind taking the attic, it's nice and cozy. Your dad did a good job decorating it." A reassuring smile that he does not accept. "What are you, Harry Potter? It's your room and it's my house." That first day during dinner, Doyoung expressed his gratitude to you for being part of their family. It did not pertain to him, he believed family deserved their own space.

His actions worked to ease and win Tina over even if it was a tad but Meghan felt a stabbing sense in her lower stomach and a scratch in her brain that made a whirling dark orb manifest. It's the same feeling that brews the longer she stands behind those mahogany doors hoping to hear what is said but the whispered mutters and her aged ear drums hand no aid.

Doyoung pulls his footstool, taking a seat before you. His hands trickle down to your foot, picking off the remaining blades that stain his own hands. He looks up at you when he reaches for a wipe, the green stains cling when the fabric graces the arch of your sole.

"It tickles." You state, he hums. Fingers press harder. "Better?" You nod. He looks at you during the ministration, putting your foot down delicately to do the same with the other. You watch his every move and he receives your gaze with a smile when he meets it. "My mom would do this when I would run around the garden. She hated when I left stains on the floors. Said they wouldn't come off but when I would go to sleep she painted over the footprints and re-stain the floor." He smiles fondly, warming up your skin from the cold, damp wipe. His fond touch doing most of the job.

"It sounds like a prank that turned into preservation. Maybe she liked seeing your growth. Meghan marked our growth on the walls of her apartment. I'm sure the landlord has painted over them now."

He hums, taking in the comparison. It's cute, nice and nostalgic but it highlights the passage of time and how mortal things seem around you and the other two. How mortal things around him can be too.

Doyoung is doting and sweet. Soft and gentle, immersing himself in his actions to not hurt the other. You envy Meghan, you're sure of it now.

"You should really put shoes on, I can't keep cleaning your feet." "You have no obligation."

He looks at you the way Mary Magdalene did when washing Jesus' feet. He looks at you like his savior and redeemer, you're not sure why or you haven't been able to fully understand him yet.

He nods, his growing finger nails pinching below your toes. You wince, confusedly looking at him. "The critters will recognize your pattern and their missing friends. Don't cry when you're pinched," He playfully scolds the way his parents used to do; voice lowering upon seeing a shadow come from under the doors. "I won't be able to kiss the pain away." He raises your foot, the action new but comforting to your taste. His eyes don't tear away when his plush lips come in contact with your newly cleaned feet. It's soft, warm, sort of wet but nice enough for you to let your hand reach for where he touches.

This is wrong, plentiful wrong but Adam (Doyoung) will drag you to take a bite of that forbidden fruit if he keeps going.

Something ate away at Meghan the longer she stood behind those thick doors. The same way ants crawled around the food she had made him earlier. That made her aching worse and if she didn't open those doors now, she won't remain sane.

She takes a few breaths in, noise seizing to come through, making things far more unsettling. Decidedly, she pushes through, opening both doors dramatically, taking in the image of her husband and faux daughter. Her eyes waver as her voice wants to do. Impotence and defeat.

Nothing.

"Must you punish me?" She directly questions. Her eyes fleeting to your lax position on his chair, recognizing the ribbon from the decor she threw out and his proximity to you. "You can't knock?" He turns his attention back to his craft, as if he had not been kneeling before you seconds prior. "Rehydration solution, Y/n."

With a syringe, he injects it onto the body of the second butterfly while you wet a paper towel, taking a beaker of solution to the other side of the room. You don't speak, following the steps he's taught you in the process.

"It's my house." Meghan states. "It's my house." Doyoung corrects.

The older woman glares. If looks could kill, the house would be hers once and for all.

"The ants are eating your breakfast." "Oh good, they'll stay away from the peonies."

He smiles to himself, Meghan can't see it but she's sure of it and that irks her more. She turns to your moving figure, handing him a warmer solution to pour in the container and put the critters in. Taking in the interaction, her eye spasms. The green stains on his slacks and your clean feet. She has no proof nor a concrete case but she knows it was nothing decent. Disturbed by the bond, she swallows her huff but not the irking orb that eats away her love for you.

"Y/n, give us some alone time." She bites, her words laced with the venom of the centipede he's wrapping around stiff caterpillars. "We're not done with this." He tuts. Meghan, appalled by his opposition, allows her jaw to slack. Her emotions are rampant and fiery that he would contradict her. That he found it in himself to not slouch his shoulders and go along with her decisions.

Your gaze flits between them, their glaring not seizing. The tension is palpable, leading you to fumble the cloth holding onto the piping hot beaker. You know how hot glass can be but when you're the magnetic pull that's causing this, it's something you don't focus on.

Your shriek forces them to break their combat, that motherly look Meghan often had returns when she sees your irritated hand and the way you fall back onto his chair the moment the scalding solution splashes over your bare feet.

They rush towards you, watching their step over the broken pieces of glass. While Meghan attempts to question if you're okay, Doyoung is already in the process of rubbing Silvadene over the light burn of your palm. She watches in amazement how delicate he is. His fingers grace over the skin, if it wasn't stinging you'd repeat that it tickles. And if his wife wasn't here, he'd replicate the image of soothing your aching feet with kisses.

With every passing second, Meghan feels that obscure orb grow and grow. Her motherly instinct is consumed by it, disgusted queries plaguing her heart and soul seeing him sit on the foot stool and place your feet over his lap. This is how the stains on his slacks came to be. His nimble digits rubbing the ointment on noticeable ailments and on spots you pointed at with minute pained whimper that she'll take as pleasure.

This isn't right. Meghan no longer feels like a mother to you. And this is only one of many instances her feelings are reassured.

Doyoung didn’t want to argue any longer in the dark depths of his cold bedroom. It was amazing how quickly his marriage was falling apart in the span of a few weeks when the two shared a beautiful —so he’s forcing himself to think— relationship. Now all he can do is whisper his grievances to his wife who finds it disrespectful that he’s rebutting her own arguments due to his age.

Meghan will never say it out loud but she respects Doyoung less and expects him to treat her like his superior for said gap, forgetting they were in a relationship and should both treat each other accordingly and not like mother-son; disgustingly.

Said argument is what led a tired Doyoung to sigh heavily on his way out of the bedroom in hopes of relaxation by either watching something in the media room or basking in the night’s breeze while sitting on the porch swing with a glass of whiskey on the rocks or an ice cold beer.

The latter makes him smile fondly.

Decidedly, Doyoung pads towards the kitchen, his bare feet absorbing the coldness of the wooden floors, ignoring his scolding after you burnt your feet. The closer he got to the large room, the sound of his padding mellowed out compared to the rummaging of items. For a second he feared they'd gotten an infestation of mice. It would not be the first time the house had any.

His inquiries were disposed of once reaching the kitchen when he saw such a pretty image that made him relax. And similar to the mice he once fended against years ago with his father, you sat in front of the fridge, feasting, with a bottle of whipped cream at hand. Allowing the sweet dairy to fall upon a strawberry that you indelicately shoved into your mouth without a care that its juice spilled from the corner of your lips and the dairy followed behind, creating a light pink ribbon to decorate your pretty lips the way those glosses you often smear do.

It oddly reminds him of the first day you two met. He looks at you the same way you looked at him. Lingering and foreign attraction, although it's not so foreign now.

It's not right, but you're closer and closer to taking a bite out of that apple.

You don't bother cleaning the cream off, continuing to push the berries into your mouth. One after another as your stomach yearns for more. You could’ve continued, although halt at his endeared chuckle. You're startled, feeling a cold sweat wash through your entire body. If there was one thing you hated was people catching you eating late at night. More so when you're filling your aching body with self targeted disgust and sweets. Like a child, the one he treats you as when the other two are near but forgotten about when it's just you two.

This is what holds you back, the apple seems so rotten and further at times.

Doyoung doesn't speak, walking towards you with a napkin in hand, taken on his way. He crouches down to your level, making you break out of that frozen state. “I’m sorry…” you whisper, eyes following his, seeking any reaction. “For what?” He questions sweetly, hand cupping your jaw softly. Shooting you a quick glance and smile before continuing his ministration.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come down to eat in secrecy.” You swallow hard, a lump formed in your throat with his touch, unaware of when. “I know she doesn't like it but usually she comes up to tell me dinner was ready and…” You shrug, meek voice making his chest compress, he senses unwarranted guilt. As if it was your fault his wife kept using food as punishment.

Meghan had told him you were asleep, not that she didn't let you know dinner was ready and that disquiets him. His eyebrows furrow, other hand reaches your face, softly wiping the strawberry juice with his thumb. Licking it beforehand. Doyoung is closer and closer with every passing day. Just last night his touch lingered in between your thigh and knee, you imagine he'll reward you and slip his fingers between your lips soon. Whichever ones and you won't be opposed to it like prior times.

Doyoung gives you a semi-scolding look, “I've told you before. It's my house, you can eat whenever and whatever you want, Y/n." He pats your cheek, pecking it for reassurance. The action startles you every time. They never feel soft and innocent. Always intentional but when he pulls back and gives you a reassuring smile, it forces you to ponder how much you want his generosity to be more than that? It's wrong, you're aware of it, always will be.

His touch lingers a little longer, fleeting stares from your own eyes to lips as his pads waltz across your skin until he finally finds it in himself to let go. “Still hungry?” He asks, helping you up. Ready to deny, your stomach rumbles loudly, giving you no time to privy it of its rights for yet another day. Doyoung simply nods with a smile, cocking his head to the entrance.

“Put your shoes on, let's see what's open at this hour.” “It’s very late to eat a big meal, Mr.Kim…”

The smile on his lips attempts not to falter at what you call him. Doyoung hated it with his entire soul. You weren't going to seize as long as he didn't seize treating you like Tina, like you're his stepdaughter too. Although, in this instant it's punishment for making you feel so ill and needy.

You want more, you crave more, but you can't have more.

It's odd to you how both can easily bask in the delicacy of tense intimacy and this… disgusting forced idea of a familial relationship at times. Especially when they would intertwine like it is now. You hate him for it sometimes. 'Coward' is what bounces in your head often when his touch lingers just to treat you like he treats Tina when his sick brain tells him to.

Regardless, Doyoung doesn't get to respond or scold, his bedroom door slams and Meghan has reached the kitchen watching as he crouches over you. She sees the dirtied napkin and your red lips. She sees his hand ghosting over your cheek and the (bitter) smile he had falters when his eyes land on her. While with you it was full of fondness and amusement (she believes), disgust greets her. She's been aware of it for a while now.

"Y/n go to your room." She demands lowly, her hands clinging to her sleeping pants. "No." Doyoung interferes, and like that day in his study, Meghan glares at him, offended by his insistence on speaking back to her like a child disrespecting their elders. "Go to sleep." She grits out, turning to you. You stand up, keeping a distance from Doyoung who immediately speaks. "Go put your shoes on, let's go get you something to eat."

Meghan's lips fall ajar. A scoff and slight cackle hearing his words and the soft look he shoots you. "Are you fucking serious right now?" She asks infuriated, walking closer and slapping his hand off of your arm which aided in stabilizing you when getting up.

"She's hungry, Meghan." Doyoung spits back, disgust building in his gaze. His wife shoots him a response with hers, almost saying "That's not my concern." but the words don't leave her for she knows it will push things further. It's futile, Doyoung scowls and his head slowly shakes the longer he looks at her. There it is, that disgust once again and it eats away at her.

"You told me she was asleep. I didn't take you for someone gluttonous." Meghan could only describe the brewing feeling as embarrassment and pure seething rage. Who did Doyoung think he was to confront her like this? Implication full of disgust and hitting her where he knew it hurt. More so in front of the one causing all the problems. With your faux naivety and innocent looks. With that cunning smile you shoot her when around him. Meghan knows what you are, she knows what men like and she's experiencing it before her eyes. Men are weak.

If you were to peak inside her head and heart, that obscure growing orb was nothing but rotting tar.

"Don't be insolent. Don't bring that up in front of her!" She spits out, "Y/n go to your room!" Disturbed by being undermined by two people she deemed lesser than her. Doyoung attempts to stop you again, his grip a bit harsher than before. You look at where his hand is. This is familiar, revoltingly so. You feel like a child in the middle of their parents' argument. Getting pulled left and right until they tear you apart stitch by stitch. It's painful in all senses and when Meghan opens her mouth to yell at her husband, you screw your eyes, shaking your head and freeing yourself from his grasp.

"I'll go. I'll go… I'll go. Please." You repeat like a mantra, hoping your words will make it all end. The latter begging them to not include you, to leave you alone and forget that your existence is brewing something between them.

You always wonder how Tina is able to sleep through this and not wake up from their screaming. They no longer attempt to hide the potency of their vocal chords nor their words. You know they talk about you when the muffled voices take over or when Doyoung tells her to lower her voice while she laughs maliciously about how much of a vile, disgusting, and infelicitous asshole he is. Otherwise, you know their problems stem from their joint resentment about the power dynamics.

When two people want the same thing at the same time, things are bound to burn over.

Doyoung didn't take long to walk out after she called him those names again. Throwing in his face that he's a pretentious brat with nothing worth fighting for. Meghan has found going against his upbringing to be successful in debilitating him. The only downside is that he loathes her more and more and respects her as much as she does him. Very little to null.

Sleep fleets away. Fear floods you with the idea that Meghan was capable of barging into your room any second now and reproach you for ruining her marriage. She doesn't tell you directly and neither do the other two in the house but her demeanor change is more than clear. Her warm smiles are officially gone, cold and resentful glares replace them. And she no longer cares that they call her out for ignoring you.

Her hugs are foreign to you and her food no longer is edible. That love she once poured into her meals is gone with her motherly instincts. It aches, horribly so. You've known her and Tina since you began your academic career. When your parents couldn't pick you up or take you to school, Meghan was there. Summers were spent with them like this one with the exception that they were the happiest memories.

You have Tina, you know that. She's your sister. Although, you would prefer to not see her argue with her mother about you or see them give each other the cold shoulder after. You don't want her relationship with her mother to worsen, that's the last thing you want but you can't control what people feel. You're aware of that, Meghan isn't.

It's 1:00AM when sleep finally comes back to you and you feel safe enough. The comforter brings you the warmth you're lacking but isn't able to fill your chest. Soft lamentable sighs have left your lips all night over how horrid this summer has turned.

A part of you blames Doyoung. His addition has ruined the balance the three of you had. His cowardice of accepting Meghan's punches and seeking her motherly care during those years blinded him of the bigger picture — it's quite obvious now, confirmation is all you needed.

The other part of you accepts that Meghan is a decrepit insecure woman who seeks power and control of anyone that isn't her and that fills you with both anger and hurt, feeling no immense remorse for threading around Doyoung the way you do. You're allowed to indulge yourself from time to time.

Meghan wants puppets, not family.

Immersed in your pity and vexation, you don't notice when your bedroom window opens. The latch closing is what makes you turn around startled. A dark figure creeping through the shadows, tall and slim. Fright replaces the sleep you felt, manifested in an attempt to scream until your mouth is hastily covered with warm clammy hands that you instantly recognize by the bony nimble fingers. Doyoung.

A finger to his lips, shushes you, he sits on the corner of your bed. You swallow, your head spinning and light front the freight he just caused you. When you relax, you shake your head with a silent laugh. "You scared me," 'Asshole' silently balanced on your tongue. "For a second you made me believe Nosferatu was real." You joke, "But that would mean an old hag has been haunting me for ages, and I just met you." He pats your cheek almost condescendingly without saying sorry but meaning it. At least you think he's sorry.

"Here." He smiles — the most he does to entertain you—, handing you a bag you hadn't noticed earlier. That may explain the sweet smell of warm blueberries waltzing through the room to sedate you and make you more receptive to what he offers. "You didn't have to." You protest, he meets it with a shake of his head and raises a hand letting you know to just be quiet and take it. He does it with a smile on his face and it irritates you but it's also very beautiful that you oblige. "Thank you." You croon, a smile involuntarily creeping on your face. He responds to your words with a caress of your cheek.

"I've told you to not call me Mr. Kim before, haven't I?" His words slow down your movement, smile faltering. "Is that not your name?" You quip, giving him a quick glance while cutting the waffle into squares. It's warm and soft, as he is. Unfortunately if it's left in the open for too long, it will harden and rot. As he will.

There's some tenderness in his gaze, muddled with the same irascibility Meghan looks at him with when he talks back to subvert her. It makes your eyebrows furrow while you slowly chew, it's an odd feeling. Unfortunately for you, he's smart enough to read a person and divert the conversation. It so happens to be that he doesn't do it with Meghan anymore because he enjoys seeing her peeved and red.

He's become so cynical. The things marriage does to you.

"Regardless, please don't call me that, you make me feel old." "You are old." Your teasing makes him gasp, jaw slack with semi-offense before ruffling your hair, destroying the braid. You laugh at his actions, successfully forgetting his earlier look.

"I'm only five years older than you!" He whisper-yells, offense still imprinted onto his being. "Then don't treat me like you're much older." Spoken in between laughs, your words do settle in his mind. Doyoung knows this happens often, it disgusts him but at the same time it keeps him morally sane.

Yes, he touches you more than he should. But he balances it out by indulging your childish attributes that make you act bubbly and younger around him.

Yes, he looks at you with rapidly growing attraction and lust. But he balances it by teaching you step by step on how to maintain perfectly taxidermied insects the way paternal figures do.

He understands and feels that underlying disgust. It's self-punishment for thinking about you when he is married despite loathing the woman. His attraction to you is punishment for that alone.

He should still remain a good man. He is a good man.

Until he learns to enjoy the power trip. He can somewhat understand his wife for that.

Coward.

His smile begins to lose its intensity, nodding while getting comfortable on your bed. He's receptive when you feed him squares here and there, making sure to look directly in your eyes when he takes them into his mouth. Lips wrapping around the black plastic fork and lapping at the syrup hiding between the backside grooves just to watch you immediately replicate his actions. It's a soothing dance, ego indulgent to know you take what he gives.

"Listen," You feed him again. "I'm sorry for earlier." He covers his mouth, "For continuing to put you in those situations, truly sorry." His hand goes up to his chest, his wedding band is gone, causing a warm feeling to brew in your stomach, manifested as an involuntary smile on your lips.

You shrug, nonchalantly as if it didn't matter when you knew it did. "Not my first rodeo." You mutter, feeding him the last bit before placing the tray on the nightstand. He looks at you, taking in your reactions and the stuck sigh that you finally release when he doesn't prod.

You never spoke of your own family. It was always Meghan and Tina this, Meghan and Tina that. At the beginning he wondered if they would be preoccupied knowing you were here, meeting a stranger despite being in safe hands. Yet after a month he noticed the conflicting projected emotions on your face when he spoke about his parents and how loving to each other they've always been. He could tell admiration and resentment were bigger emotions you carried. Now it does not surprise him that you're saying this. More so, it's confirmation.

"How did you even meet her, by the way? I just can't think of a scenario where you'd meet a woman like Meghan."

Curiosity and petulance lace your voice. He smiles to himself, taking your hand into his, reassured he was taking the right steps when you reluctantly relax against his touch. "My mom grew up in a house with four brothers. She always felt the need to prove she was as important as them. You know, rough housing, sports, academics, that sort of thing." He shrugs, "Futile because my grandparents loved and supported her no matter what she did. There truly was no difference in their treatment of the five — very progressive, they were. Kind of holistic— she simply made that rivalry up in her head."

You'd ask what any of this had to do with your question, but Doyoung likes to speak, he likes to speak about his parents. Even if it was a simple redaction.

"So she spent her entire life doing things that would put her far away from those related to housewives. Never learned how to cook, clean, gardening was her only token but that's because she was a botanist. My dad did everything else." He laughs, fond memories of seeing his dad in frilly aprons and pink mittens. He chose them, all the decor was his pick. Doyoung only ever lets you use them when you're in the kitchen.

"This was ten years ago, I was visiting them from college for the summer when I found she had created a crafts room out of this room." His free hand points around the walls of your room, wallpaper in a quilt design explaining it all. "She said she was too old to not know basic things like mending a hole in dad's socks or helping him with dinner. That he was getting old and weak too, it was a job for two to get anything out of the oven."

He hums, gaze on your interlocked hands. "So I drove her daily to these classes at the community center. That's when I first met Meghan, she was there to teach the classes. Nothing went past pleasantries and my mom joking about how I'd look good with Tina."

Selfish you are for letting vile manifest and spread through your chest when hearing those words. Tina… Tina couldn't handle Doyoung. They can't even stand to be in a room together without it being awkward. So selfish of you to make this about yourself, squeezing his hand scolding. He takes it with humor, feigning not noticing for the sake of his ego.

"Of course my mom didn't know Tina's age, when she realized how much younger she was, she stopped the jokes. They became somewhat friends, never seeing each other outside the community center to my knowledge. I didn't see Meghan for years after that but three years ago when my mom's Alzheimer's worsened and she had forgotten the difference between toxic versus non toxic liquids, she ended up poisoning herself by drinking insecticide. Later we found cleaning supplies with her lipstick on the mouth. It's at the funeral that I saw Meghan again and she was there for my dad and I…"

You didn't imagine this would take that turn. He always spoke so fondly of his parents like they were still around somewhere. Never said where but still around. You now realize it's their lingering presence around everything here.

"I'm sorry, Doyoung…" He dismisses you, shaking his head and kissing your hand. He's trying to control his labored breathing, warm and harsh against your skin, his hand clammy.

"Dad felt so guilty for it all. He taught about the development of the human brain, did neuroscience studies for the university and certain labs here and there all his life and he couldn't save his own wife. So… he left me too. He left for a study, who knows where and I haven't heard from him since." He smiles, a sort of bitterness that he didn't want to have for his father. Reluctance to accept that it was perhaps more than a trip. "Lawyers came days after he left, everything left to my name on both their ends. Meghan had been the only one to check in on me besides extended family but they live far away, there's not much they could do."

Guilt floods you. Why couldn't you just push back that desire to belittle Meghan more in your mind. The worst part is that your brain won't stop telling you that she only took advantage of his vulnerability. Sweet, vulnerable Doyoung who lost his parents in a span of weeks left to rot on his own with a huge house, assets, and a desire to give and give to anyone willing to comfort him. Convenient.

Doyoung hums, sitting up. The silence helps him admire you, or simply distract himself from this gushing open wound. The braid he destroyed, cascading over your shoulder. Shoulder covered in a thick light yellow lace strap with matching ribbons on the chest. He smiles noticing the small details, he recalls helping you sneak into Meghan's craft room to make that night gown. Fabric and ribbon he took from his mother's stash.

She would like you, he believes so.

"You've made good use of the marigold dye." Doyoung smiles, his hand reaching to touch the strap. His fingers dance over it, letting them touch your skin. It's cruel and mean but very elating. He's been playing this teasing game and unfortunately, it's you who wants it more. From then on, they inch closer to the ribbon. Fingers jumping on every spot and ending on the bow, delicately admiring it.

Truth be told he kept his touch there to feel the increase of your respiration. Chest moving up and down faster than previously. He smiles to himself, almost mischievously when he notices a new item around your neck. "The roses too… my mother would have been so content with you." He giggles, patting your cheek prior to giving himself the liberty to touch the rose beads that form a necklace.

She would like you, he's sure of it.

"Very ingenious, so good." Doyoung hums, his hand trails to hold your neck. You nod slowly, entranced in your humiliating arousal from just his touch. You feel pubescent, frothing at the mouth from one touch. Stupid. He's just another man… a man that coddles and holds you in secrecy. It's the forbidden excitement laced with guilt at how treacherous the human mind and body can be.

Clearing your throat, you look around, avoiding his gaze. "Yes, well, she has a lovely and fruitful garden… Greenhouse too, I found some purple cabbages from the spring season, they'd make a lovely dye." You divert but his touch doesn't fall, his other hand opts to join on your cheek, cradling it.

Instinctively you lean into it, forcing you to look at him. There's no teasing or patronizing looks on his end and you're thankful for it. It's full blown admiration and desire in those dark orbs that pull you closer to him while he caresses you. They allow themselves to rake your face. Every feature but most of all your lips and eyes, longing to land on your pupils as to bless whatever you see. On your forehead to reassure that he is your safe haven as you are becoming his. It oddly reminds you of the looks he gave when cleaning your feet before the accident. Like Mary Magdalene admiring her savior.

Doyoung thinks he is allowed this indulgence for once. He can punish himself after but he can no longer go without tasting your skin on his lips, he feels so famished. Letting out a shaky breath, he softly rises, bringing your head closer to him. Breath labored with every move and warm against your skin when he's mere centimeters from it. Shutting his eyes and pursing his lips, letting them fall on your eyelids.

Velvet and moist, that's how his lips feel. You sigh in relief, unaware you had been holding your breath. His lip travels to the other eyelid, it's quick unlike prior, for he rushes to kiss your forehead, lingering for as long as he can before letting out a content sigh of his own, and a liberated smile. He wants to laugh at how absurd he is being but that would only keep wasting time.

Doyoung is so close to your lips when he decides it is best to take the full risk, however you both hear the soft knocks against your door and the rattling of the doorknob. He can't describe the feeling as freight, more so irreverent wrath.

"Y/n? Y/n why is the door locked?"

Tina.

The man instantly pulls away. His touch burns you both and guilt manifests itself through blown out pupils — your own, not his. Your lips are ajar when he places his finger up to his own, like the way he entered your room and disappears the same way. He says nothing and neither do you, opening the door when he's not in view.

The doorknob continues to rattle until she feels the weight of your hand on it. You sigh heavily before opening the door, looking at her blankly which she notices but does not mention. She never does.

"I heard voices." "I'm watching a movie."

She hums. She believes you. She believes you. She does…

"Why was the door locked?" She asks, concern on her face. When your eyes divert from hers, she can tell something had gone on. You usually enjoy having her know everything about you. That's what best friends do, yet at the moment you loathe her for it. That's what sisters do. That gnawing disturbance of frustration and impotency. The type she's felt this entire summer break.

You simply hum, she giggles.

"How bad was it now?" She now finds humor in knowing she always sleeps through their arguments. It's not so funny to you. "Nothing special, I was in the kitchen when he stormed out then she followed behind and they went at it after I left." She giggles once more. Unsure now if it's because she actually finds it comedic or she doesn't know how to respond.

This is her mother and her happiness they're talking about. This is you, her best friend and your friendship on the line.

It’s not like you can tell her that her stepfather defending you from her mom for the millionth time isn’t pushing her into deeper hatred. It’s not like you can tell her that her mother purposely starved you for the day out of pure unadulterated jealousy because her husband desires you more than her. No, can you? No. Silence and lies will do.

"Hey, did you know how Meghan and Doyoung met?" You ask, looking at where had laid. Tina shrugs, "She told me they saw each other at a coffee shop from time to time and talked since then. She doesn't like coffee though." She shrugs again.

Oh Tina. Willfully ignorant and avoidant. Perhaps the story is right but you're sure that if Tina fully knew her mother had met doyoung ten years younger with baby fat still on his cheeks and younger than she is, her dilemma would only worsen. Coward.

Unlike Tina, Meghan didn't hesitate in barging in after a few minutes. It leaves you and her daughter dumbfounded when the angry look becomes bewildered and disappointed, like she had expected to find something (or someone) to prove her suspicions.

"Mom?"

Meghan acknowledges it with a sigh, "Go to sleep, it's late." Making you both feel ten again at one of multiple sleepovers during school nights. Tina responds with a nod. You, you look at her for any trace of something. There's worry, that's for sure. And there's also anger. Nothing new.

The front door is slammed downstairs, causing Tina to get a startled look on her face that is reassured when Meghan shakes her head, dismissively. She opens her mouth to calm her daughter when a disgusting thought tells you to do the talking for her. She deserves even this bit.

"It's Doyoung, don't worry."

And it's disturbing to Meghan that you spoke her thoughts, word for word while looking at her.

Meghan has gotten her confirmation for the night.

That night had given some clarity to Doyoung. Arguments with his wife seized for the most part and before they could begin, he was out the door for his nightly runs. That's what she believed at least. He tampered with his smartwatch to mark his steps knowing she would look through it.

Reality is that he crept up the trellis to your room. Spending the nights under the covers with earphones in, door locked, lights off, and a movie lulling you to sleep while getting a few whispered conversations in here and there. His lips or yours pressed against each other's ear. It was the closest to kissing you would get at.

When you do fall asleep, he tucks you in. Caresses your hair and kisses your forehead goodnight before crawling back down the trellis and entering through the front door. To continue his reality of being married to a woman that no longer treats him with the care he sought but at least he can provide it for you and that you've slowly been returning.

Doyoung has taken that into account and rewards you for it. The gifts were small at first, snacks that Meghan wouldn't allow into the house, books in your wish list. They later became more intricate. Your personal taxidermy and diaphonization kits (locked in his study), pendants of the critters utilized, a camera to document your process, and the most recent being two chickens and doves.

The animals irked his wife more than anything. She has spent the past two months arguing about tearing down the greenhouse and it only took you a mention of the excess of caterpillars and worms in there for him to bring in the chickens. You looked after them, sure, however the chickens with free range left their eggs and droppings everywhere. It felt intentional how she found them laying on her clean laundry, pecked her if they saw her, and worse off stained all of her fabric. They abhor her as much as she does them.

At least the bleeding-heart doves are lovely to look at despite their cold shoulder towards her. Tina gets a ruffle of feathers, you and Doyoung some crooning, and spooning among each other when it's you and him peering upon them. It's the small things that drive her deeper into her madness.

Like seeing you sit criss-crossed on the plush bright grass. It's dewy again, much taller now than it was before but he promised to mow soon. Right now he's too busy hammering in old nails onto stained wood and footprints —yours and his— to create a coup for the chickens. Not by her demand, no. He'd never take hers seriously, but yours.

"Diaphonized insects are horrid. They're all brown. I think I should give wet species a chance." Doyoung takes your words in, a simple chuckle looking at your pout. Petulant and spoiled. "Y/n, you're not drying them fast enough." He corrects, you shrug knowing he may be right but working with insects has bored you. "Either way, centipedes and spiders look disgusting in those vials."

The chickens flock around you, pecking the ground. Their clucking became louder, frustrated the longer they weren't able to obtain what they wanted. Doyoung gives them a quick glance, a fastidious kind of melody, one he isn't used to. Neither are you according to the stink eye you give them. It's pleasant to Meghan, leaning against the sink with peering bright eyes, it feels like justice for once.

It's a delicacy. Your desperate attempts to calm them down, Doyoung's hammering exasperating the chickens, and finally… A loud and pained screech from you, pushing away the hen that victoriously clucks as it swallows the culprit of your scream. One of the neighbor's centipedes.

Doyoung drops his tools, rushing to your aid. He watches you tumble, attempting to stand, however the aching sting and burn on your foot doesn't allow it. Meghan watches every movement from you both. Your disgruntled whines and moans, his shushes in an attempt to calm you down. Hands clasping around your feet, soothing the inflamed bump in hopes it did something. It didn't, it irritated the wound further.

"I told you the critters would recognize your feet." He jokes, scolding in the process. The stinging is intense enough that waspishly, you huff, pouting his way. "Nuh-uh." You reply, rolling your eyes when he throws in a glare. He shakes his head, finally sitting, his knees aching. Like the day you burnt your feet, he takes your feet in his lap, looking over the wound while your soles leave stains again.

He smiles to himself, an airy laugh as if he was coming up with something, fingers waltzing over the bite. "I told you to put shoes on, I won't always be here to help you." Smile turns into a grin, teasing as he lets his lips fall over the wound.

It stings. The warmth of his own flesh against the boiling fire of yours, it's not pleasant and you make it known. With the exception that it comes out strangled and pleasured. Much to his delight, making his lips part, tongue gracing the area just to add more pain and more pretty sounds to leave you.

It's an erotic image to anyone who experiences and sees it. Meghan feels the boiling pain in her chest, the same way you do on your foot. The only difference is that Doyoung won't attempt to soothe hers. He won't even acknowledge it.

Doyoung is looking up at you with a curling smile, lips pulling apart from your skin, eyes raking the expanse of your exposed thigh when the dress rode up. " Met with a harsh pull, Meghan reaches both of you, hands on Doyoung who stumbles to stand up. It's hard to decipher what her expressions read, all emotions coursing through like a bad acid trip, colors roaming around in a slew.

Anger, disgust, pain, defeat, resentment. It made no difference, it was all negative.

"How do you plan on defending this now, huh?" She asks, wavering voice when she looks between you two. "What could you possibly say to make this look normal, Doyoung?!" Her voice rose, startling Tina who had been in the entertainment room when she heard your scream. Like usual, she opts to remain where she's at. It's no use involving herself when she's known how this would all end since the beginning.

"Sucking the venom out, Meghan. Fuck me, why do you have to make everything so salacious?" Doyoung grits, a tone she had not fallen for years ago.

His speech and tone has changed within these months. He no longer spoke like a poised character, he spoke like you. He smelt like you and his quirks adapted to yours. Doyoung was no longer Meghan's and that's a fact she's finding difficult to deal with. Similar to how parents aren't able to understand the autonomy of a child as they grow.

Frustratingly so, his response made sense to her. She's seen it in movies, she's read about it — so she thinks. Unfortunately for her, this was only a sting, like a mosquito or a bee sting, something that will subside with ointment just like your burns weeks prior. There was nothing to suck out nor was it recommended.

"How convenient." She scoffs. Meghan hated how upset she was. She knew this was bound to happen and why she kept her relationship hidden from you for the past two years.

Meghan knew your interests, knew your beliefs, and knew you her entire life. She knew how drawn everyone instantly is to you and woefully, she knew Doyoung would be one of those people too. She was proven right the first day when she saw him approach you on that swing and converse so easily. Touch you so easily…

It never got better as the days went by. Why was it so easy for him to cave and give you a room? A room meant for her hobbies. A room meant for hobbies, as his mother had wanted. Why did he allow you into his study without hesitance when she could only remain for five minutes or so? Why did he have to please you by offering dinner? It's been a while since he's taken her out to dinner. Yes, it was wrong of her to privy you of basic needs but earlier in the day she had seen you so content in that stupid greenhouse and understood fully why he kept refusing to tear it down besides grief. You kept it alive just like his mother did.

Her jealousy doesn't outweigh her disdain for being undermined. Like a person working night and day, loyal to one job for years on end and aging throughout them to be replaced like nothing by a new set of fresh meat. A kick to the rear and a big "Fuck you, you're no longer useful and too old for us to care about your opinion." That's how her relationship with Doyoung felt when he met you.

When they started dating, Doyoung sought her sweet reassuring words and pet names. Her gentle touches and pats when he did a good job. Her comforting food and the affection she gave Tina. It was pleasant, she knew what he wanted all along and she was more than willing to give it to him as long as he reciprocated her own desires. Surrendering control and devotion.

Those things no longer belonged to her. His devotion shifted to you —she's witnessed it on multiple accounts— and control is his again. That's one way of looking at things. He moves her and Tina into his home, doesn't let her make any changes and instead rubs it in her face that you adore the house and its quirks. His house and his quirks.

If everything reminded her already of his parents, it now reminds her of you too and how much more power ghosts and a child have rather than her.

Meghan scoffs and huffs every now and then while rebutting his arguments. He mimics them to show her how absurd she is being. It's a never ending cycle they've grown comfortable with but that needs to stop. This isn't what either signed up for when they legally bound their love. If you can even call it that, it's more than clear both were pitifully lonely and disturbed.

"Are you even hearing yourself, seriously?" Doyoung sighs, offended at the implications she kept throwing at him. His thoughts may be vile and depraved when it comes to you but he's punished himself enough. Meghan doesn't seem to understand that while he now recognizes he never did love her, rather sought the affection of a mother, he was bound to honor those vows.

But he was only a man and men are weak.

Meghan has double the years of experience he does and she knows that if you ever stop seeing her with those same eyes Doyoung once saw her with and which Tina is bound to by the universe's request, and gave him free reign, he'd take the opportunity without a thought.

"No, are you hearing yourself? Better yet, do you see what you do?!" She glares, "You enable her to do whatever she wants. Parade around my home as if it was hers. Make a mess of the floorboards, lock herself with you in that stupid study, for what? Your disgusting bugs? Really, Doyoung it's odd how much time you two spend together, you don't even spend that time with your own stepdaughter, neither of you have spent time with Tina. She’s supposed to be Tina’s best friend."

Doyoung felt his frontal lobe develop for the second time in his life. Stepdaughter… Fuck, he was only thirty with a twenty-five year old stepdaughter. Does anyone see how disturbing and odd this fucking is? No, he definitely cannot stay in this for much longer.

"And you know what? Jesus, you're acting like a fucking brat yourself." She scoffs. "The longer you spend with her, the more immature you become. Genuinely, what use was it for your parents to give if you're going to act like a child." She shrugs.

"Don't even bring my parents into this, fuck off." Doyoung disturbed glares at her. "Don't fucking do that. It only seems that way because you hate when anyone is better than you. Smarter and secure than you, get a grip, Meghan. Don’t forget that I’m closer to her age than yours. I’m allowed to be childish, remember that… Don't fucking bring them up ever again."

He was right but that's exactly what she hated most.

"Honestly Meghan," Dumbfounded, Doyoung sighs, hands rubbing upon his face exhausted. "You've known Y/n longer than me. If you don't plan on trusting me, at least trust her. What kind of mother are you if you can't offer her that?"

His tone quickly twisted into condescension, the sheer feeling of being talked down upon by someone who knows nothing about life irking her furthermore and the slight consideration that gnawed at the back of her head was ultimately consumed by that twisted rotten tar in her soul.

"Well she isn't my daughter is she?" Meghan spews without thinking. "She's not my fucking daughter. Not by blood, not metaphorically, nor by law. Tina is my daughter and you know what my daughter doesn't do? Throw herself at my shithead of a husband like any other hussy does!" Her hands meet with his shoulders multiple times, abrasive like every word. No regard that those words were loud and clear for you who remained on the grass and Tina in the entertainment room with the TV on full blast. No longer able to hide and ignore like she's done all along.

Doyoung doesn't mind the contact or the harsh words towards him. What he does mind is her rejection of motherhood. Yes, she's correct to an extent, however how harsh must one be to deny the impact their motherly doting has left on a young and impressionable child? He has fairly understood your restraint and guilt after each encounter is interlaced with your respect towards Meghan and now all he can think about is how that shattering reality will affect you.

Will affect him…

It's disgust and resentment that meets Meghan— she takes it with pride. It's empathy that meets you when he turns to face you. Seeing the instant heartache aflame in your eyes and through the cracks of your chest.

Pity is what you take it as. Disturbed by such, you stand up, the walk of shame towards that stupid greenhouse his wife detests so much. A soft shut is what makes him turn back to Meghan, disdain so palpable that Tina can feel it as she peers through the window. Relenting to the reality she's been trying to avoid these months. It's odd to be a background character in something that affects her directly. She knows there's more to come and when it's done, she'll have two options, only one right answer.

Her mother or her best friend… her sister.

Their words are muffled on the further end of the greenhouse. You imagine this is what Tina would hardly hear in her slumber and it was nice to an extent. You've always admired her discipline. You can't say you admire it now, many of those arguments could have been prevented if she spoke up about her discomfort towards her mother dating a man near her age, a man that sought the affection she was given. A grieving man.

Tina was disciplined but she was also a coward just the way Meghan wanted her to be. The way Meghan wanted all of you to be. Fearing yet adoring her. Devout like a disciple to their God.

Meghan was nowhere near a God. She was closer to a pathetic haggard with no accomplishments in life besides her daughter's, living vicariously through her. She attempted to do the same with Doyoung and it may have worked for a while. She soon realized that she couldn't do such a thing with someone that's always had more opportunities than she's had.

Doyoung had two loving parents his entire life. Just like you.

Regrettably, they weren't able to be near him as much as he would have liked them to be due to their career. Just like you.

However, they provided no matter what — even in the after life — and it showed throughout the house and the love he still holds for them. Their presence is felt in the grooves of doorknobs she replaces, the carvings on the wooden doors she plans on modernizing, the stained windows she'll break, the chips on the kitchen island she will fix, the garden with horrid flamboyant flowers that are eaten away by pests, and that ghastly greenhouse with plants that pretentiously have to mean something.

There's no grasp of control in a house that is meant to exude security, love, and reassurance. No grasp if she's not the one to plant that seed.

Fortunately for you, the house welcomed you in and now you don't care how much you rub it in her face. This was meant for you and if she thought of you as the complete opposite of what she's groomed you into, you'll let the entire world know that Doyoung and everything she wanted to obtain is yours by prophecy.

"How's your foot?" The soft voice that greets you nightly approaches you, his warm fingers taking your shoulder, spinning you around and forcing the pen in your hand to drop. The solemn look on your face and the exaggerated pout makes him sigh, your shrug forcing his touch away. "Better."

Doyoung nods as a response, approaching and taking you in a tight embrace to reassure you that it was all going to be okay, that Meghan was nothing but bitter and defeated.

"I'm sorry…" He whispers against your hair, leaving kisses here and there. Your sigh, tightening his embrace. "It's not you who said it." You expel, burying your head in his chest the way your doves do. He kisses your head again, reward for such a sweet action.

"But it's my fault she did." "It doesn't matter now."

Doyoung peels away as much as he can without breaking the embrace. His eyes search yours for a hint of sadness, however all he can see is fiery anger and vindictiveness.

His hand takes your cheek, both warm and soft. "It does..." He hums, "You know it does." Eyebrows furrowed, concerned with how easily you've given it up. He knew you'd be upset but relent is not what he expected. No, he does not like this.

You pout, grip on his torso tightening to leave the feeling of your touch lingering for as long as it could. "It'll pass."

Doyoung truly didn't know how to fix this on his own, it's not his duty to do so either. Yet, the last thing he wanted was to see you upset over the words of someone so vile who did not deserve any strong emotion conveyed. Prior times he was able to pacify you with his gifts or embraces, nowadays it's been a bit harder.

"Will it?" "It has to. I'll have time to mourn later."

Mourn.

Doyoung thinks about the last time he allowed himself to mourn. He wonders if you'll follow in his footsteps and ignore it, falling in the embrace of a rancid older person who will only take advantage over the loss of a profound relationship. He doesn't want you to do that, you should seek comfort in the arms of someone who can oddly comprehend you despite the hierarchy being completely different.

It should be him.

Decidedly, Doyoung leans in, like that first night in your room. His lips don't linger above your features or your lips like last time. This time he dives in, taking your lips into his in a slow and tender kiss. You reciprocate it instantly, holding onto him for dear life, afraid to be tossed around once more.

Your lips part slightly, seeking air although inviting him further in. Doyoung moans into the kiss when your hands creep under his shirt, they're peculiarly cold for such a hot summer. Alluding to the death that floods you from Meghan's rejection. He can tell you're replaying her words over and over every time your kisses get hungrier. Tongue overlapping his and savoring him further. Fingernails raking his smooth pale back. He'd be glad to parade those pink streaks, it's the least he could do.

He wasn't far off. It's interesting how easy one can hate someone they've loved for so long. All you had in mind was punishing Meghan for what she just said. She's killed you. She's killed that little girl that looked up at her like a mother. Mother's are supposed to be nurturing and kind. But like she's said, she doesn't owe it to you. You're not her daughter, never were.

Cruel, cold, and a bitch she was. You could be that too, you've become aware of it with every cold shoulder and scowl from her. You'll be what she truly sees you as if that'll make her happy.

Men are weak, you've known this too. She's taught it to you. So why not start proving it with her husband? Giving him that chance everyone knew he awaits.

Your hands warm up the longer they roam around his torso, ripping the buttons off his shirt. He doesn't seem to care, not when it's a piece Meghan made him. "Will you make me feel better, Doie? Will you help me forget? I think we both need to forget?" You whisper against his lips, his labored breathing mixing with yours, chasing your lips as a response.

He whines like a pet being denied a treat, teased and laughed at. To satiate him, you peck his lips, nipping them and earning another whine, pleased this time. He nods fervently, his own hands grasping your body, making sure you're here with him.

Swollen lips leave open mouthed kisses along his jaw, trailing to his throat. Nipping softly at the taut skin. He hisses and gasps here and there but he never pushes you away. He takes what you give, just like you.

Thankful for such, it's time you take a bite of that apple, rotten and all.

Doyoung groans when he feels your teeth cling to his Adam's apple, fingers pressing into your own skin. His body is now cold, similar to how your hands were at the beginning, it's infectious but delicious. He needs more of whatever you give him. Greedy, greedy, greedy.

It's easy to read his mind, the way those eyes look at you, ten times more intense than before. Enough to push you into creating a trail down his torso, similar to the stream of sweat that clung to him that first day you met. This felt nice against his cold skin. The warmth of your mouth and delicacy of lust intermingled into making his groin harden. You notice the need, fingers clumsily toying with the belt buckle until it's gone.

You tease here and there, fingers clinging to the hem of his underwear, scratching above his pubic hair and making him hunch over, only stopped by the feeling of your forehead on his exposed torso, purposefully giggling to have your breath tickle his greedy skin.

"It tickles." He utters, looking down at you with blown pupils. You smile, looking up at him with wide eyes, pressing your knuckles into his skin. "Better?" You question, he grins and nods.

You use his shirt as a cushion underneath your knees, it's futile and barely aids but it's better than bare concrete. Seeing there was no use to taunt him any longer, your fingers crawl within his underwear, grasping the phallic in much need of attention. He hisses feeling your grasp, it's soft but firm, tugging him out brusquely on purpose. He liked that.

Doyoung pants, attempting to control his breathing. It's been so long since he's been touched, any time Meghan attempted he was flooded with disgust and self hatred, pushing her off when she aimed to at least kiss him. He could live with it, believing his sex drive had died before you came into the picture. But with you around the house and him 24/7, it was becoming very difficult to do anything about his increased sex drive.

"You're so hard… When's the last time you had any action?" You ask casually, hand rhythmically rocking against his shaft, thumb collecting any drop of pre-come to smear against him. He's reluctant and embarrassed to answer but your sweet smile is so convincing that he responds with a guttural moan.

"I see." You hum, kissing his tip as a reward, eliciting another moan. Masturbating in the shower was not enough. Sometimes Meghan tried to get in there with him and it would make him flaccid immediately. It seemed the only times he could ever relieve himself was in the comfort of his study. His favorite times when you and Tina took advantage of the pool and sun bathed with his research papers in hand. That excited him most, the image of you in a skimpy swimsuit in front of his window and reading his thoughts on a subject you couldn't care for as much but would take just because it was made by him. You took anything he gave you.

The memory alone made him twitch in your hand, a giggle leaving your pretty lips. Like this, he would get so much harder like this. "I get it, Doie. I won't stall any longer." You relent, leaning further to take him in your mouth. The damp and warm cavity force a moan out of his own, holding onto your hair as he throws his head back. Fuck, he's been craving this for so long.

Doyoung feels his ears ring. His own breathing along the squelching of your throat floods them. He thinks this is heaven, although he doubts an act like this would allow any of you in. Right, it wouldn't. Not after you both submit to the temptation of forbidden fruit. But it's better this way, what fun is there in being a garden when you can't have what makes you feel good? Even if it is a sin.

He relishes in the feeling of your mouth around him, head bobbing on its own despite your free hand giving him permission to push as much as he wants. Your tongue swirls around his cock, pressing firmly against the veins and dancing around the rest. It tickles, but he's sure you're aware. It is your favorite game after all.

He looks as pretty as the first day you met him. Beads of sweat rolling down his face, forcing his hair to frame and emphasize those pretty features of his. His ragged moans sound like those of an angel, pushing you further down his cock. It feels suffocating, he's not as girthy but he is long and it makes it much harder to push through. Even so, you want to be good for him, you've always wanted to be. This forces you to push through, gagging a few times but persevering until your nose hits his pubic bone.

Doyoung feels elated at this new found feeling. Your throat is so tight and warm, it feels like a reward for all he's endured. Sadly for him, it's torn apart, gifting him with an image of you teary eyed, gasping for air and a mixture of come and spit threading you both. He couldn't think he could get any more hard but this image alone makes him spurt pre-come onto your chin.

You give him a quick glance, smiling sweetly at him. "Close?" You ask, "You can come in my mouth, Doie." You utter, leaning in to take him in. He closes his eyes feeling your mouth around him again, dizzy and seeing stars. He feels the breeze enter from the windows of the greenhouse, whirling around you both. He finds that his body is no longer cold, it's scorching as yours.

Doyoung didn't think he could be so overstimulated before coming, it may be with the fact that he hasn't been touched for so long or how one of your hands clutches his into your hair, yanking to feel arousal from the sting. He swears can see a bead of your wetness roll down your leg when he looks down at you, cursing and bucking forward.

It hurts, you won't lie but that is exactly what made you keep taking him and pulling back out. The strain against your throat elating until he finally took it within himself to do as you wanted. His jutting forward with a harsh grasp on your hair, fucking your face and forcing you to gag while one of your hands plays with his testicles, only pushing him to go faster. Your other hand pushing aside your soiled panties and playing with your clit. It's a slick sticky mess, uncomfortable at best but the feeling alone does enough for you.

Doyoung mutters curses here and there. Pretty words too which you receive with moans that make him increase the pace. Both of his hands are on your hair when he finally feels himself spill in your mouth. His moan is so loud you wouldn't doubt that anyone outside of the greenhouse could hear him. You squeal, taken by surprise and also feeling yourself suffocate. Even when he's still inside of you, some of his come spills from the sides of your mouth, rushing out like water from a broken dam when he rips himself apart from you.

He feels out of it, trying to calm himself after such an intense orgasm as you are. Head thrown back, gasping for air without spilling any come still in your mouth. When you think you're stable enough, he helps you up. Kissing your soiled cheeks and licking his lips to savor himself. The image makes your pupils dilate. Taking himself in like it was melted ice cream, without a care. No one is as receptive to taste themselves but he was.

You hadn't come yet, and this image only made you want to reach that high more and more. Doyoung cluelessly smiles at you, appreciative of what you've done. It's wiped away when you take his face into your hands, kissing him. Instinctively, his lips part, allowing you to push his own cum into his mouth from yours. He's taken aback but weirdly aroused.

Narcissistic, egocentric, or whatever anyone wants to call it. It does not change the fact that Doyoung immediately hardens at the taste of himself mixed with the taste of your spit. The sweet tones of the lingering chocolate you two ate with the saltiness of his orgasm. Similar to a disgusting and corrupted salted caramel dark chocolate. It's not for everyone but it is meant for you two.

Hastily, he helps you up on the data table. Pulling down your wet panties and rubbing them along his hard and aching cock. He moans into the kiss, ragged and needy while he jerks himself off to increase the feeling. His tongue mingling with yours, swirling his come around both your mouths until it becomes warmer and lesser.

Fingers intertwined in your hair, tugging to hear more of you. Desire to hear more and more leads to shaking nimble fingers to trail the inside of your thighs. He smiles into the kiss feeling the scorching warmth within. Claiming and begging to be touched. He's no cruel man, not all the time at least, so he grants you this reward after all the ones you've given him.

Slowly, his ring and middle finger enter you easily with the slickness he's caused. The intrusion causes you to moan against his mouth this time, giving him the advantage to nip your tongue. It doesn't take Doyoung long to allow his fingers to move within you, pumping relentlessly to hear your pretty sounds. Guttural with the remaining come you two interchange.

You've always thought he had pretty fingers, since you met. Purposefully scraping yourself and staining your feet with grass to have him touch you. Nimble, long, and delicate enough to curl within your walls and cause a shiver down your spine. With the length, it doesn't take him long to reach your sweet spot. His pistoning motion and curl forcing cries and withering beneath him. Doyoung isn't as cruel or sadistic but this… he can understand why sadism exists.

Your legs don't seize to shake, a sheer layer of perspiration coating your body and face. He needs to let you finish, he just has to. It's not long until your body gives out, you need this or you'll probably pass out on this table alone.

But Doyoung allows himself to indulge that sadism he's contemplated for the past few minutes – enjoying his contradiction on cruelty. Halting his moves and ripping his hand away, taking the last drop of remaining come into his mouth to greet you with a cheshire grin as you look at him in surprise and betrayal. Every nerve in your body stings you left and right, punishing and taunting you for the lost glory.

"What the actual fuck?!" You gasp, looking at him, panting harshly with a body ready to explore from heat and desire.

He doesn't respond, letting the come and his spit trickle down to his glowing red cock, slacks and underwear pooled around his ankles. Now that his mouth is free, he chuckles. "Had to save some for lube." He shrugs, positioning himself between your legs. He kisses your cheek reassuringly, rubbing the come around him until he pushes within you. It feels different than his fingers and your mouth for the both of you. Surely, nothing will ever be as good as the actual thing.

Doyoung doesn't move just yet. Allowing you to get comfortable while he contemplates on whether you should leave the red gingham dress on. It's too pretty and he was there when you made it. Meghan had hated when you told her he allowed you to use his mother's machine and fabric. She hated that you were taking over her on her own craft.

Hm… yes, just for that he'll let you keep it on.

"Come on, Doie… Fuck me as hard as you can." You lean in, whispering against his ear, biting his earlobe. That was enough incentive for Doyoung to begin thrusting. It's slow but hard at first, setting the pace. It doesn't take long for him to quicken it, increasing your moans with it. You hold onto him tightly as he pounds into you. So deep into the pleasure of being full again that neither of you speak.

Legs pushed wide open against the table, his glute muscles flexing with every hard stroke. He kisses you here and there, licking away the beads of sweat from your neck like a starved animal in need of more.

The taste of your skin drives him insane, nipping and licking until he reaches your breasts. Pushing down the fabric of the dress to take one into his mouth. Engulfing it, harsh suction that leaves you wanting more. His teeth aren't as kind to your nipples but you don't mind as long as he is well fed. As long as you're able to please him.

"You feel so good, Y/n… I won't ever be able to get enough of you." He pants, thrusts hardening, hips swiveling to get closer to you, enough that his pubic bone creates friction against your needy clit. That intensifies the feeling that pushes you further into an orgasm. Doyoung feels it when you squeeze around him and moan his name like a mantra, pulling at his hair like he's done to yours.

"Please… I've been good. Please, let me come, Doie." You beg, implore. You couldn't handle it any longer. He's come once before, when this is finished, he'll have two orgasms. Yet all you have is aching, an overdue orgasm that will knock you out soon if you don't release it.

Pretending to ponder your prayer as he harshly pounds into you, lips consuming yours. Tongue gracing yours in search for a sliver of his come's taste still lingering within you. It's not as evident as before but he eventually finds it, smiling into the kiss and nodding.

"Let it go, baby." He croons, shushes leaving his lips as he keeps fucking you. His permission setting your body free that each thrust makes you feel so sensitive and it's not until he reverts back to those initial harsh and deep thrusts that you squeal and moan loudly. Clinging to his body for dear life while your legs spasm and come around him. The image sends him into his own orgasm. Feeling your body tremble against his while you cry out in pleasure from something he's caused. It's beautiful and if possible, he'd have you as the main piece with those pretty red ribbons you love so much on your hair, surrounded by his taxidermy as the main attraction because you're precious enough to preserve.

The thought peeves him but he won't dwell, not when you still feel so warm and good around his spent cock.

"Has she ever made you come this much?" You ask between giggles, looking at the pool of cum seeping into the wooden table and dripping onto the concrete floor. Doyoung groans remembering his reality. "No. I don't even touch her, why do you think there's so much?" He glowers, shaking his head in the process. "I don't want to think about her. Not now… with you so pretty and open for me." He grins, leaning in for a kiss.

You hum against his lips, wrapping your arms around him. "All this come for me?" You question sweetly, faking naivety, he nods, a light chuckle. "Only you have made me feel so alive and hot." He utters, burying his face in your chest, kissing your tits slowly.

A content sigh leaves you, eyelids fluttering, a malicious grin when you look forward.

There she is, five feet away with a dull and dead look on her face, Meghan.

"I bet."

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#dovenet #kdiarynet #kvanity #kwritersworldnet #kim doyoung smut #nct smut #nct 127 smut #kim doyoung x reader #kim doyoung x you #nct 127 #nct fic #immoral tales

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rafeandonlyrafe · 1 year ago

Text

unexpected consequences

words: 700

warnings: 18+ only!, smut, p in v sex, condoms breaking, pregnancy/breeding talk, unprotected p in v sex, established relationship, mention of marriage

“oh fuck, yeah.” you moan out, fingers gripping rafes shoulders. “right-right there.”

your moans are extra loud today, having been apart from rafe for nearly a week after he had business out of the country. rafe is just as pent up as you, thrusting harshly into your cunt to the chorus of his grunts.

“close.” rafe warns, but you could tell anyways by the swelling of his cock that he wouldn’t last long.

“oh my god, yes.” you moan out, back arching off the bed as your release pushes through your body, cumming with a final shout of your boyfriends name.

rafe drops his head into your neck as he cums inside of you, pushing as deeply as he can as your cunt pulses around him. you wrap your arms around his shoulders and press soft kisses to his head while rafe pants through his orgasm, until you shift slightly and feel it inside of you.

“rafe, pull out.” you shove at his shoulder, causing him to look up in concern, but he slips his softening cock out.

“what is it baby?” rafe asks. you look down at the condom he always wears, where theres always a bit of white cum gathered at the tip, but this time it looks practically empty, like he just rolled it on.

“rafe.” you hit his shoulder, causing him to flinch and look down.

“wha-” rafe suddenly realizes the issue, rolling himself off the bed as he walks into the bathroom, no doubt to inspect the condom and tell you what you already know is true.

“it broke.” rafe says when he comes out a moment later.

“i know.” you admit, shifting your hips from side to side again. “i can tell.”

“im so sorry baby.” rafe says with a sigh, laying on the bed next to you but not pulling you into his arms, not sure if you want to be touched.

“its okay.” you hum softly, mind still reeling. “you didn’t know.”

“what are we gonna do?” rafe asks, knowing you’re not on birth control due to affecting other medication you’re on.

“well, i can take a plan b in the morning…” you say quietly.

“or.” rafe encourages you to continue, able to tell that you aren’t finished.

“or we could wait and see. i mean i probably won’t get pregnant just from one time, right?” you shrug.

“what about if it does take? and you’re pregnant?” rafe asks, looking at your tummy.

as if you’re thinking the same thing, you lay your hand over your stomach, knowing that even if you are pregnant there is nothing in there yet, but the thought alone has you rubbing gently over your skin. “i don’t know.” you admit.

“i want to keep it.” rafe blurts out. “if-if you are pregnant.” rafe can’t take not touching you any longer, pulling you close to him and tangling your limbs together.

“are you sure?” you raise your eyebrows. you think rafe would be an amazing father, knowing how protective he is of you, and how he strives every day to take even better care of you. “we are so young.”

“i love you. i want to be with you, i want a family with you. why not start now?” rafe questions. he won’t admit it to you yet, but he’s been thinking about taking the next step, having even gone ring shopping to see his options. “besides-” rafe smiles, “why are you trying to talk me out of it? you’ve always wanted kids.”

you grin back at him. “i know.” you let a giggle free, feeling giddy about the possibility. you’ve always wanted to become a mom, especially because you have so many younger siblings. “so, are we doing this?”

“yes.” rafe says definitively, pulling you in for a kiss, a comforting one that you truly need.

“oh my god, im so excited.” you break the kiss to mumble against his lips.

rafe nods in agreement, lowering a hand between your bodies to touch your stomach. “probably too early to start talking to your tummy, huh?”

“definitely. i mean, we don’t even know if i’m pregnant, it may take a couple tries…” you trail off, hoping rafe gets your intention.

“well, i will just have to keep cumming inside you.” rafe shrugs. “in fact, we shouldn’t take any chances and i should fill you up again right now.”

rafes hand lowers from your stomach to your thigh as he grabs your flesh and pulls your leg over his hip, spreading your thighs for him as your cunt rubs up against his quickly hardening cock.

“rafe!” you shout with a laugh, but don’t stop him as he begins to grind his cock into your core.

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stxrvel · 6 months ago

Text

intrusive (4)

series summary. the holy grail of the seven men who ruled the country's entertainment used to be your friends at school. now, ten years later and between successes and failures, what reason would they have to want to come back into your life? pairing. eventually ot7 x f!reader. content. THIS IS EDITED!! there are new scenes!! 16/9. first of all, english is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes! sadness, lots of mixed feelings, self-hatred, flashbacks, flashbacks. a/n. hi guysssssssssss. its been a while, i know and im so sorry. i hope this chapter doesn't feel too rushed. truth be told, between life issues and that i've been having trouble with inspiration for scenes it took me a while to build this, but surprisingly i'm pleased with the result. now, where do you think we're going and what will we do from here on out?????? surprises come, surprises go. thank you all for your continued support!! i really appreciate the feedback from all of you and reading your comments makes my days. for those who are still here, thank you. see you next time!

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There were too many loose ends to tie up. There were too many empty spaces, too many misunderstood moments that kept your hair standing on end every so often or every time you remembered. They were like gaps, things you didn't know how they had gotten there, how they had happened, or how someone else knew. And you were accumulating them, suspicious, somewhat delusional and paranoid if you asked anyone, but they were held in that space in the back of your head waiting for the right moment to come out.

Between moments of lucidity and memories of the past, there were many things you had superficially let slip by.

Yuna was in front of you, her brow furrowed in concentration and her eyes almost square from the amount of time she had already spent in front of the computer. You had been at it all day, so the moment your friend appeared like it was her own living room and everyone acted like it was nothing out of the ordinary, you just plopped down on the couch with a calm expression, waiting for the perfect moment to let certain things out, to ask certain questions.

There were moments of enlightenment, there were moments of brilliant discoveries. And that day you had discovered something you had forgotten because of the brevity of its recognition, but in retrospect it was something worth knowing, even if there were still too many things, more important things, of which you were ignorant. At that moment, all gathered in the living room of your parents' house, the most important thing was what was on your mind.

“Yuna.”

Your friend barely shook her head in acknowledgement of her name. Your parents were arranging the table in the middle of the couches to settle lunch, surely a big feast like every other day for the past few days and the only reason Seojun took virtual classes that day, and your brother was ogling the dishes with his mouth ajar. Eugh.

But none of them were paying too much attention. Food, social media, ordering, direct messaging, arranging the geometrically correct dishes… everyone had their heads in their own world, and that's why you could hear the moment your father's hair touched the ground when you asked:

“You were the one who set up my book booth at the last convention?”

Four pairs of eyes bore into you.

“What?”

You looked at her expectantly, not letting the mischief interfere with your plans.

“No…! I didn't-I mean, what are you talking about?”

Yuna let out a nervous laugh, just after correcting herself when she got a blunt look from your mother. Your father stood stiffly behind his wife, the frying pan in his hands wobbling so clearly that a few drops of the soup dripped onto the wood of the floor. Your mother leaned over, leaving the plate she was carrying on the table, sending Seojun a look that caused him to swallow his saliva sonorously.

The scene was so comical that you really had a hard time not bursting out laughing.

“It's just that when I talked to Sol this morning she commented something…”

You let the words hover in the air, straining them each time it came to one of them. Yuna straightened up, completely forgetting about the computer for a second, peeling her back off the couch where she was leaning on the floor. Your father snorted in surprise so hard that he was attacked by a cough and your mother had to take the frying pan away from him before he watered down all the soup from all the shaking. Seojun hid behind your mother's legs and you just plopped down on the couch, stretching your legs over the armrest, satisfied with their reactions.

“And what did she say to you, honey?”

Your mother was the most composed, finishing arranging the dishes around the pan while your father had run out to the living room for a glass of water. Among the foursome, your mother was the only one who truly knew what dissimulation meant. You had no doubt that her sisterhood with the others in the room would end once you told them you already knew everything.

“She told me she was afraid I hadn't been able to see what you had done for me,” you frowned looking up at the ceiling, looking genuinely confused. “And it was weird, because we were talking about the last convention.”

Yuna let out a laugh, incredulous.

“And why would you be talking about that with Sol?”

Putting the antics aside, you stood up on your forearms and glared at her.

“Why did you do that?”

“What did I do?”

“Sol told me it was your idea.”

“That's not true!”

“Ah…” you held a hand to your forehead, as if you had just remembered something important. Your gaze swept around the room and Seojun cringed when your eyes landed on him. “True. She said it had been your idea.”

Before Yuna could send a warning glance at your brother, Seojun raised his hand and pointed at your friend, exclaiming:

“It was her idea! It was all Yuna's idea! Tell her mom!”

The two aforementioned closed their eyes, taking a deep breath and bringing their fingers to the bridge of their noses. Their expressions of ennui were unmatched and promptly Seojun was cringing for a completely different reason.

“You're such a jerk,” Yuna mumbled, almost barking in the direction of the poor man seeking to escape his mother's lethal gaze. Instantly, your friend turned her gaze in your direction, meeting that amused look that curled her annoyance just for a millisecond. “I thought you'd be more upset.”

“I was,” you lifted a shoulder, leaning back against the back of the couch as you listened to the string of scoldings your mom was in between yelling and whispering to your brother. “But it's impossible not to see reason when you're talking to someone like Sol.

Yuna also nodded in consideration. It was something that, not just the two of you, but all of Sol's workers agreed with. Sol had a warmth about her, a homely feel to her that made you automatically trust her and take it for granted that, if she told you everything would work out, it was because it would; whether it was by chance of the universe or because she would see to it that it did.

“Then it was a good thing you heard it from her mouth and not your inept brother's,” Yuna sent her another withering glare and you couldn't help the smile that twitched your corners as you watched your mother move the bowl of tteokbokki away from her grasp. It was so funny to see that he didn't always get the baby of the house treatment for a change.

“Were you planning on taking that to your grave?”

Yuna turned, arching her eyebrows. With her lips set in a thin line, you knew she was thinking about choosing the right words to answer you, even though that thing they'd done had led directly to the fact that, at that moment, you'd been able to afford the luxury of asking for vacation for the first time and focusing on what you truly loved to do. Even if they had worked behind your back, the result had not been so fatal.

If you took a few unwanted people out of the equation, that is.

Your friend finally softened her gaze.

“No, I knew you'd find out at some point. From whoever's mouth. A secret can only be kept from so many people.” Yuna rolled her eyes, moving to listen to your father complain from the kitchen. “But I didn't think Sol would tell you so openly. Was it on purpose?”

“Yes. I think she was trying to convince me or make up for something. I'm not sure which.”

Yuna raised her eyebrows, cocking her head in tension for barely a second. If not for the years you'd known her, you probably would've interpreted her short-lived reaction as genuine curiosity, the desire for a tidbit of gossip. But your friend's tension was palpable and it was something that left you wondering a bit, especially when she didn't speak until your father returned to the kitchen.

“Honey, I think I'm going to get a sore throat.”

There were too many loose ends to tie up. There were too many empty spaces, too many misunderstood moments. There were too many things you were still ignorant of and had no idea about; things far beyond what was happening in the present.

There were things you still didn't understand, like why and how Jeon Jungkook, the country's most famous idol and probably one of the celebrities most likely to have easiest facial recognition on the street, had so stealthily stumbled upon your whereabouts or why he had acted as if seeing you again was a reunion with his lost puppy from years ago.

“Are you still upset, noona?”

Seojun watched you warily, your sidelong glance leading him to cower once more behind your father. With lunch settled and the tension gone (barely), you all had been able to enjoy an enjoyable moment. After all, the dense atmosphere that still lingered was only due to the fact that teasing Seojun was fun and more satisfying when you had no reason to do so.

It all came from a great consideration that your family, and even Sol, had for you, trying to support you however they could, even if you didn't even seek their help. As much as you wanted to (and didn't really want to) there wasn't much reason to get angry. Less so when the outcome, likewise, had been favorable.

“We should focus on what's important,” Yuna dipped her spoon into the almost non-existent conversation, finishing her meal and leaving the plate practically glistening, to which your mother was able to sketch a satisfied smile. “We have a meeting this afternoon.”

“Ah. Yes,” Seojun nodded, remembering his place as the second-in-command of the business, because you had actually been relieved of any position you might have held in your own business. “As the person in charge of the treasury of this company, I must admit that the decision made is the most appropriate and in our best interests.”

Yuna narrowed her eyes, seeming it was almost impossible for her to ignore your brother's annoying presence.

“What have you contributed to this business to call yourself the person in charge of the treasury?”

“I've done a lot for this project! Besides, you are focused on advertising. You should be in charge of the public relations department.”

“And I can't handle both?!”

“I set up all the lines of communication with the delivery people and organized the accounts with Dad!” Seojun pulled Dad's shirt collar, pulling him close to his face with a frown. Your dad only let him be, as he savored a wing. “You took charge of net with mom. We can't reverse charges now. Experience and reality speak for themselves.”

Yuna clicked her tongue, irritated.

“Whatever,” shaking her head, she flipped the computer on the table so Seojun and your parents could get a good look at the proposal you had accepted, after arduous study over the weekend as a family. “After a long board meeting, which stretched over the entire weekend, this was the accepted offer.”

You could almost see the zeros running in your brother's eyes, with a budding smile making its way across his face. Your parents looked pleased, proud. And Yuna kept that determined expression; she was really taking all this seriously and you didn't know yet how you could thank her for it.

“Ah…” your mother sighed, holding a hand to her chest. “It's finally happening.”

When she sent you that look with the sparkling eyes you couldn't help but shrink back on your spot on the floor.

“Mom, I think it's best we avoid getting too excited until we've signed.”

Your mother nodded, closing her eyes and breathing to keep her composure.

“Accepted the offer, we were summoned to their facility, which is where we will be heading after resting from this delicious lunch.” Yuna smiled radiantly in your mother's direction. Sometimes you wondered if she wasn't missed at home. But… no, she was much better off here.

“My children have to rest very well to make the best decisions at that meeting,” your mother nodded, stroking Yuna's hair superficially and getting up to pick up the dishes. Seojun got up to help her, but your father stopped him, keeping the warm smile on his face. Of all of them, your father was the most expressive, but you knew that at that moment he was holding back only because at the slightest he would burst into tears. And yes, with a simple glance in your direction, his eyes watered and he had to run away hugging the dishes against his chest.

Seojun sighed dramatically.

“I wish they had been this excited when I entered college.”

Yuna moved across the table, smacking him on the forehead that left him with an instant redness.

“What are you talking about, idiot? You celebrated all weekend.”

Seojun didn't respond, touching his forehead with a grimace. Yuna snorted, not believing your brother's audacity, and turned her focus back to the contents of the proposal you had received from Noble Publishing Apgujeong. You still remembered the screams that had echoed throughout the house when they found the letter from that publishing house in the mail, the most prestigious and probably the highest one could aspire to in the world of writing and for the purposes of editing and publishing. There wasn't a book published under that publishing house that wasn't a success, and that they had sought you out themselves was a great privilege.

“Speaking of celebrations,” Seojun took the floor again, when your parents had finished taking the dishes away and agreed that you would wash them all together before youo left for the publishing house, because nothing was good enough, ”I don't think we've had a moment to at least pop a champagne and celebrate this.”

Your parents remained thoughtful, but you were already shaking your head when Yuna spoke:

“It's true,” her frown said she couldn't believe they hadn't done it yet, but between so many chores, to-dos and new things you were discovering on this new path, you couldn't just take the luxury of doing nothing for a few hours. There was a lot to work on. “We should do it after the meeting. With the contract at home, it will be much better!”

Your father and Seojun cheered in agreement and your mother gave a few claps.

“You're working tomorrow, Yuna.”

“So what?” your friend frowned at you. “Do you think it'll be the first time I've gone to work with a hangover?”

Your mom's throat clearing startled her, and she quickly melted like pudding with a sheepish grin.

“But this time it will be for a good cause…and it won't happen again.”

Your mom nodded, not very convinced.

“Incidentally,” Yuna regained her posture, sending a glare at Seojun, ”we could have y/n finally watch the video reactions of her books.”

“You haven't seen them?” Seojun exclaimed and suddenly the four pairs of eyes felt very threatening.

“… no…”

“Mom?? Did you hear that?!”

“Sweetheart!” your father exclaimed, looking at you as if he had heard that you did something worthy of banishment. “Why haven't you seen the videos, don't you know the good things they say about you?”

“The compliments,” your mother nodded. “Almost the entire internet loves your books.”

“That's an exaggeration, mom…”

“How did you even avoid all that hype?” Seojun asked, leaning over the table. “Even Dad's TikTok wasn't spared, and he only watches National Geographic videos.”

“…I muffled a few words.”

A roar of incredulous refusals followed your words and promptly everyone was moving to corner you against the couch so you had no escape.

“There is no time to waste.” Seojun nodded in Yuna's direction and it offended you too much that the only times they agreed was to do something against you.

“Mrs. l/n, I think dessert will be popcorn,” Yuna moved her computer closer to the center of the table as Seojun settled in behind you, each of your parents on your sides as your friend opened the TikTok web app.

“Hey, no… no. I'm not ready to watch this. I'm not-”

“Nonsense, noona. Even better, this will give you a big confidence boost for the meeting this afternoon.”

You didn't believe Seojun at all. Your nerves were on edge as Yuna moved to sit next to your brother and the first words of the first video echoed in the living room:

“My honest opinion of the A Million Swords trilogy…”

“Do you think I might publish any of these one day?”

Your fingers drummed on the keyboard of the desktop computer, watching the letters spinning a story that no one yet knew. No one, except for you and Taehyung at that moment. His gaze was confused as his dark eyes hid behind the dark, unruly, damp locks of his hair. For a pool day, you couldn't have had a better time than writing parts of your still unfinished story, the one you used to run away to when you had a whole reality to mold in front of you. Maybe you should have paid a little more attention back then; attention to details, to gestures, to distances, to forced smiles; maybe if you had paid that kind of attention you would have been able to foresee everything that would happen later… maybe then it wouldn't have hurt so much.

But at that moment, at 14, you could only see with stars in your eyes the enormous possibility that you thought writing would open up for you; the world you were about to discover, much farther away than you thought.

That weekend the pool party was at your house. Jimin had brought a gigantic inflatable pool withJungkook and they all kept splashing water in each other's eyes in the backyard. In your prolonged absence, surely, Taehyung had ventured inside the house to the only place he would know you would be if it wasn't next to them.

“Do I think? I'm absolutely sure.”

Taehyung shook the droplets slipping from the ends of his hair all over your face.

“Tae!”

“Why are you doubting it?”

“I never said I was doubting it.”

Your friend took one of the armchairs that each of the boys had recast in your room, which no matter how much you pulled them out always ended up there again, to sit next to you and watch the unfinished paragraphs on the computer screen. There were four armchairs already gathering dust in the corner of the room that you still hadn't had the heart to take them out.

“Look at that,” the brown-haired man moved his face closer to the screen, splashing more water on you, with a mischievous grin. “It was desire that stirred me, far beyond the reach of reason or any cognitive faculty. In the depths of my being, I knew with unshakable certainty that I was right. Their gaze scrutinized my every expression, searching for ways to break me, while their fingers, far from innocent, accused me relentlessly. Yet, even as the weight of their scrutiny bore down on me, there was no realm, no dimension in this vast, boundless universe where I had not chosen him above all else. Not even as the streets ignited, the houses crumbled to ashes, and the roar of thunder drowned out the cries for mercy…who writes like that?”

“y/n!”

Your other two friends appeared, reveling in the unapproved reading of the first draft of your first novel, and you felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

You moved quickly to press the off button and your friends barely let out a short laugh.

“Don't ever do that again.”

“Then don't ever doubt you again.”

“I wasn't doubting! It was just a question…”

“She just wants you to be honest, Tae.” Jimin entered the room, moving right behind his friend and flashing a smile that made your hair stand on end.

“Honest...?”

“Shut up, Jimin.”

The aforementioned barely let out a laugh, under the scrutinizing and confused expressions of his other two friends.

“What do you mean?” Jungkook spoke, trying to gain ground in that unfamiliar room, clasping his hands in front of him in nervousness. He didn't even understand why he was nervous, he just knew he didn't like the obfuscated expression on your face.

“Nothing, Junkookie, Jimin's just an idiot who only knows how to spout rubbish.”

“Rubbish? Where do you even get those words from?”

“I learned it yesterday in literature class!”

“Uh-huh…”

“Stop it, Jimin!”

He wasn't a person to be caught off guard. His cautious attitude was something he had developed over time; with the experience of going through and surviving difficult situations; with the toughness of making strong decisions and constantly bearing the burden of being at fault for their consequences.

So no, Min Yoongi took it upon himself to plan things around him so meticulously that every aspect of his life had a place and a time; an hour and a second.

A planning so perfect that at that moment it was slipping through his hands like sand. His friend… no, Dohyun could do nothing but rest his hands against his desk sending him an obfuscated look, trying to look almost as disgruntled as Yoongi was at what he had learned would happen in that office.

“Of all the things I thought you could tell me…” Choi Dohyun shook his head, and on his face Yoongi could tell there were no words that could qualify his surprise. But he was surprised too, to be honest. He didn't know how he had summoned the fortitude to move so quickly from across town, from his study, to arrive at Dohyun's office and blurt that out to his face as if it were any Tuesday afternoon, as if he were simply inviting him to dinner at his house. “I've never underestimated you, Yoongi-ah, but this…”

“Who contacted you?”

“Who contacted me?” Dohyun let out a laugh, which felt a little heavy to Yoongi as he shifted his weight on his feet. “What makes you think I can't recognize a good deal from a distance when I see one? They call me the Shark for a reason, don't you think? I smell business like they smell blood in the sea.”

Yoongi clasped his hands at his sides, a gesture that didn't go unnoticed by Dohyun, who looked up and barely ran his tongue over his teeth before plopping back down on his ergonomic chair.

“The decision is already made,” was all he said to him, generating a flutter of emotions inside Yoongi.

“Who contacted you?” Yoongi insisted, feeling time slipping through his fingers. “How did you find out about… this?”

Dohyun let out a laugh, bordering on sarcasm and disbelief. Yoongi would've taken more time to think about it there, to ponder what he was doing, what his impulses were pushing him to do. But within the framework of his decisions and conflicting feelings, Yoongi had taken a path that he could no longer undo and the least he could do was avoid was to generate collateral damage to someone. Just for the chance to try, even though the probability of having the universe in his favor was microscopic, he decided not to give in to reason.

Maybe he would still be the villain in someone else's story, but in his conscience… maybe… maybe he was right and was looking for no way to excuse himself; to excuse things he could no longer change; to excuse behaviors he could no longer erase and decisions he could no longer undo.

Perhaps, too, it was the price he had to pay for what he had done. For what he had said; for what he had not said; for what he had done and what he had not done; for his action and his omission; for his perpetration and complicity. If Yoongi had known that time in his twenties that such a decision would have taken things so far, so close to the impossibility of healing, he surely would not have made it .

But to regret now, what good would it do him? To mutter apologies now, what good would it do him? To dig through the fibers of an unbridled heart, what good would it do him?

“Yoongi. I am the head of the largest publishing house in this country. If you thought I was going to see fluttering around the internet this opportunity in a million and as an entrepreneur and investor I wasn't going to take it, who are you taking me for?”

He should've dragged Namjoon away when he saw him in the parking lot, because business was his forte and not Yoongi's. Yoongi might as well cringe at Dohyun's words because how was he going to refute them. He had come with fortitude, yes. He had come with resolve and determination, yes; believing that this decision was the right thing to do, the least he could do right. And yet, at that crucial moment, with everything against him and the swords at his neck, Yoongi had his arms crossed again.

Maybe he should've dragged Namjoon along, but… how would he know if he was on his side?

“But don't worry. I'll try to keep you apart. You know I always separate personal matters from my work.”

Dohyun was a professional liar. If telling lies were a profession, Dohyun would quadruple the fortune he now boasts as the owner of the country's largest publishing house. Yoongi hated the way he covered up his poisonous words with honey, as if he couldn't see through the thin texture of the liquid how everything was corroding around him. And Dohyun was not his friend, if he wasn't sure before, he was now.

It's business, Namjoon would say, as rational and objective as ever; a businessman can't have someone around who attacks his vision, his business, that's an enemy.

Yoongi right now was a blob of green soup on Dohyun's pole, about to walk to an important meeting where he would close a million-dollar deal. His insignificance bordered on indescribability, but his diminutive presence was big enough to be considered a splinter in the foot.

The phone rang, breaking the tension in the atmosphere, and instead of answering it, Dohyun sent a glance toward the oak doors and then to Yoongi's limp body. Clasping his hands once again, it shook him inside to think that once again he allowed himself to be trampled. Once again, he was going to be the misfortune in someone's life.

“They're already here,” Dohyun almost muttered, an amused expression on his face. “You can leave now or you can stay and watch.”

Yoongi knew he'd be happy to have him there, watching him bite his tongue, trying to swallow his embarrassment. And wouldn't it be simpler to just leave, to brush against the fate he once let slip away as if it were something so trivial that it didn't tear a piece of his soul to even think about it; to brush against an opportunity he missed, selfish and presumptuous, as if he were the only one whose heart was beating with pain that day.

“I've never asked you for anything…”

“And neither have I,” Dohyun interrupted him, raising his gaze serenely, lifting his chin to acerbic dominance. “And all I'm asking you now is to stay out of my business.”

And Yoongi would've had to agree with Namjoon, because business and money definitely change a person. No one can rise to a high position, of Choi Dohyun's level, without having scored a big armory and a few degrees of tough personality willing to kill to get what they want.

“I received you out of courtesy. To Jin. But I won't tolerate another second of this.”

Dohyun mumbled, and the moment he brought the phone to his ear, Yoongi knew he had lost. Again.

“Hyung…” Yoongi closed his eyes, helplessness winning out over reason, the word sour in his mouth.

“No. I'm sorry, but no. It will happen. Just make your decision, I don't want my guests to wait too long.”

He didn't know if the grinding of his teeth was as loud as he heard it in his head. He didn't know if his behavior was over the top or understandable. He didn't know if he had a right to those emotions or if he had lost it more than ten years ago. Well, ten years in her head. He didn't know if he deserved that moment; to share that space and time and catch off guard someone who could become as cautious as he was now; because if Yoongi learned from anyone to be the way he was today, it was because of her.

He didn't know, in retrospect, if he ever made a good decision in his life.

i reeaally want to know your thoughts on this one!! re-edited!

tag: @rinkud @futuristicenemychaos @pastelpeachess @parapiop7 @kokoandkookie @midiplier @thunderg @lizzymizzy-blogg @ladymorrie @butnotmontana @lovelgirl22 @jjeonjjk7 @aurorathi @ot7stansthings @kunacat @borahaetelevision @mylovingstars @ghostlyworld @talyaaas-blog @slowlyshycomputer @jjk174 @maynina @saintomie @damn-u-min-yoongi @juju-227592@yoongznme @queenbloody @leeeeeeeeeeeeeeeesworld @zippaur @v4ksk4tz @kookierry @idk179634 @canarystwin @elliott-calls @devilzliaison @butnotmontana @ismelllikechlorine247 @19yearoldjstryingtolivelife @thatgirliehan @yuuuumii @welcometomyworld13 @sugarbaby69x @whoa-jo @chaotickyrith @dreamerwasfound @darlingz99

455 notes · View notes

koiiiji · 6 months ago

Note

im here for yakuza!Gun x reader smut 🤧🤧 like, you stayed at his family's mansion overnight because he introduced you to his clan for the first time and when the night came, this perv didn't care there was no soundproof system between rooms in the mansion (ofc, that's the traditional Japanese house style!!), he kept doing the deed, and even warned you to lower your voice if you didn't want anyone to hear 😏😏

ty as always bae <33

p/s: that's the idea and you can customize it however you want, just make sure that he is a meanie but soft at the same time (is it possible hm 🤔)

p/s (2): i have to send this idea right away in case you close your ask box too early lol 😂😂

author's note ; i mean Gun IS in fact yakuza, no? anyway sooo here we go! i had kinda same scenario but more rough and generally dark, like yandere, but fuck it, i think i won’t finish it anytime soon, bc i thought to add it to your request, but i don’t want to make you wait anymore. i think i was carried away a little in beginning, so its longer then expected, sorry!! 💞😮‍💨

author's note 2 ; art from pinterest, it says credits to : jongjong822 on x

tw ; f! reader, nsfw, minors, ageless/empty blogs DNI OR I WILL BLOCK YOU!!!

· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ꕥ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·

to be honest, you had no plans to meet Yamazaki Gun's family tonight. it's not that you were against the idea — quite the opposite! you'd heard plenty about who his father was and what his family did. there were a lot of rumors swirling around town, and while you were a little wary, you were mostly curious. besides, you hadn’t been together for that long, so you didn’t expect Gun to introduce you to his family anytime soon.

when he told you earlier in the day to dress up for the evening, you weren’t surprised. it was just another night, another overly expensive restaurant, and another excuse to be in his company. as you sat in the passenger seat of Gun's sleek black car, you glanced out the window at the city passing by. the soft glow of the streetlights bathed the streets in a warm, golden hue, making everything feel a little more magical, a little more alive.

the atmosphere inside the car was just as enchanting. Gun had always been a man of few words, but tonight he seemed more at ease, more open. the quiet hum of the engine was accompanied by the faint sound of classical music playing through the car's speakers, creating a peaceful ambiance. you felt a sense of calm wash over you as you glanced at Gun, who was focused on the road ahead. his profile was illuminated by the soft light from the dashboard, casting shadows that only added to his already mysterious aura.

the restaurant was just as extravagant as you'd expected, with its towering marble pillars, crystal chandeliers, and tables draped in fine linen. evening went perfectly. you and Gun shared a bottle of wine, and as the evening wore on, you found yourself getting a little tipsy. it wasn’t enough to lose control, just enough to feel a pleasant buzz that made everything seem a little funnier, a little more relaxed. your laughter came more easily, and you found yourself leaning in closer to Gun, your hand occasionally brushing against his. he seemed to enjoy the relaxed version of you, a soft smile playing on his lips as he listened to your stories and responded with his own dry wit.

when the dinner finally came to an end, you felt a sense of contentment settle over you. the food had been exquisite, the wine even more so, and the company... well, there was no one else you'd rather be with. so you assumed that Gun would take you back to your home now, to end the night on a sweet note with a kiss or maybe something more at your doorstep. so, when he steered the car away from the familiar streets and onto an unknown road, you raised an eyebrow, but didn’t question him. the wine had left you feeling pleasantly hazy, and you were more focused on continuing your easygoing conversation than worrying about where you were headed.

“so, tell me,” you began, your words slightly slurred but still coherent, “why do you always pick these fancy places? are you still trying to impress me, Gun?”

Gun glanced at you, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “maybe i just like seeing you all dressed up,” he teased, his voice as smooth as the leather seats you were sitting on.

you laughed, leaning back in your seat and looking out at the unfamiliar road ahead. “well, it’s working. but you know, you don’t have to go all out every time. i'm just as happy with oversized t-shirt, most stupidest comedy and you.”

“noted,” he said with a small nod, though there was a hint of something more serious in his tone. “but tonight is special.”

you blinked, trying to process his words through the pleasant fog in your mind. “special? how so?”

“you'll see,” was all he said, and you let it go, too relaxed and warm from the wine to press him further. conversation flowed easily between the two of you as Gun drove. night seemed endless, the road stretching out in front of you like a promise of more to come. when the car finally slowed and turned into a long, tree-lined driveway, you began to wonder just where he had brought you. the driveway was impeccably maintained, with tall, ancient trees on either side casting long shadows under the soft glow of strategically placed lights.

Gun parked the car in front of an imposing mansion, the kind you’d only seen in movies. building was grand, with tall windows that gleamed in the moonlight and a wide set of steps leading up to the front door richly decorated with mahogany. you stared up at it, your slightly inebriated mind struggling to catch up with the reality of the situation.

“Gun… where are we?” you asked, your voice tinged with awe and a hint of nervousness. he turned off the engine and looked at you, his expression unreadable. “this is my family's home,” he said simply, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

your heart skipped a beat. “wait… you mean… we’re meeting your family? tonight?”

he nodded, his gaze softening as he reached out to gently take your hand. “yes, tonight. i wanted you to meet them.”

panic began to bubble up in your chest, but it was quickly tempered by the warmth of his hand in yours. the wine had left you feeling too relaxed to fully grasp the gravity of the situation. Instead, you let out a soft, nervous laugh. “well, you could have given me a bit more of a warning,” you teased, squeezing his hand as you tried to keep the mood light.

“i didn’t want you to worry,” he replied, his voice steady and reassuring. “you’ll be fine. they’ll love you.”

before you could respond, Gun stepped out of the car and walked around to your side, opening the door for you. he offered you his hand, and you took it, letting him help you out of the car. as you stood there, staring up at the mansion, the reality of what was about to happen finally sank in.

you were about to meet Yamazaki Gun’s family. tonight.

you took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves, and looked up at Gun. he was watching you with that same calm, unreadable expression, but there was a hint of something else in his eyes — something that made you feel like everything was going to be okay.

with one last squeeze of his hand, you smiled and nodded. “alright then, let's do this.”

and to be honest, everything went better than you had expected. the Yamazaki mansion was truly grand, almost overwhelming in its size and elegance. the towering shoji screens, the polished wooden floors, and the delicate tatami mats all spoke of a family with deep roots and considerable influence. people you encountered within its walls — servants, distant relatives, or perhaps close family friends — were polite, yet cold. they carried themselves with an air of reserved dignity, their words carefully chosen, their expressions unreadable.

Gun guided you through the mansion with a familiarity that showed he had once called this place home. as you walked, you couldn't help but notice how much Gun resembled his father. the elder Yamazaki was a stoic man, tall and imposing, dressed in a traditional black kimono with a hakama. he carried an aura of authority, and though his demeanor was stern, there was something in his gaze — something that hinted at a really small softness beneath his cold exterior.

Gun's mother, on the other hand, was an elegant woman, the very picture of grace and strictness, wearing a beautiful, intricately patterned kimono. her hair was pulled back in a traditional style, and her movements were precise and measured. her eyes were sharp, watching you with an intensity that made you feel as if you were being evaluated at every turn. yet, despite the coldness in her gaze, she followed every formality with exacting precision, treating you with the respect and courtesy befitting a guest in their home. she spoke little, but when she did, her words were measured and polite, though they lacked any warmth.

as the evening drew to a close, and the final course after small greeting tea ceremony was cleared away, you felt a sense of relief. it hadn’t been as daunting as you’d feared, and you were proud of how well you’d handled yourself. you expected that Gun would now take you back home, and the two of you would quietly slip away from all formalities and coldness of this house. but then Gun’s father, in his deep, commanding voice, made a suggestion that took you by surprise. “why don’t the two of you stay the night? it’s late, and it wouldn’t be wise to drive in your current state.”

you glanced at Gun, waiting for him to politely decline, but to your shock, he simply nodded. “we’ll stay.”

you blinked in surprise, a slight panic rising in your chest. you were unprepared for an overnight stay, and the idea of spending the night in Gun’s childhood home — under the same roof as his parents — was suddenly very intimidating. you opened your mouth to protest, but Gun leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “don’t worry. my father asked us to stay because he wants to discuss some business matters with me in the morning. just relax.”

· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ꕥ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·

with those words echoing in your head, you found yourself sitting on the edge of the futon, carefully prepared by the staff just a few minutes ago. the evening had been long and emotionally exhausting, but now, in the quiet of Gun’s childhood room, you felt a sense of calm begin to wash over you. after taking a shower, you had washed off the remnants of your makeup, feeling refreshed as the warm water rinsed away the day’s tension. the pleasant residue from the alcohol was still making itself felt, leaving you relaxed as you climbed into bed, where your boyfriend was already waiting for you.

Gun was lying on his back, his dark hair still damp from his own shower, his yukata loosely tied around his waist. as you slid under the covers, you immediately fell into his arms, finding comfort in the warmth of his embrace. you settled comfortably against his chest, inhaling the clean, subtle scent of his shower gel, mingled with the familiar warmth of his skin. it was a scent that was unmistakably his, grounding you in the moment as you let out a contented sigh.

for a few moments, neither of you spoke, simply enjoying the quiet intimacy of being alone together. the soft rustle of the futon as you shifted closer, the gentle rise and fall of Gun’s chest under your cheek — it all felt so peaceful, so right.

but as the silence stretched on, a small thread of anxiety began to tug at the back of your mind, and you couldn’t help but voice the question that had been lingering in your thoughts all evening. “do you think your parents liked me?”

Gun’s chest rumbled with a soft chuckle, and you felt his hand gently stroke your hair. “why do you ask? you were amazing tonight.”

“i just… i don’t know,” you murmured, feeling a little self-conscious. “your father was so serious, and your mother barely smiled. i couldn't tell what they were thinking.”

he let out another soft laugh, tilting your chin up so you could meet his eyes. “that’s just how they are. don’t take it personally. my father rarely smiles, and my mother… well, she’s always been a bit strict. but trust me, you made a good impression.”

you felt a wave of relief at his words, but you couldn’t resist teasing him a little: rolling onto your stomach, you now lay on top of him, folding your arms across his chest and resting your chin on them, you playfully asked "are you sure they're not just being polite to me?"

flicking your nose with his finger, he just laughed in response, the sound deep and genuine, and you couldn’t help but join in, the last remnants of your nerves melting away in the warmth of his laughter. but as your soft giggles subsided, the mood shifted, the lightheartedness giving way to something more intense. Gun’s eyes darkened - more, if it was even possible - as he looked at you, his playful expression fading into one of pure desire. without warning, he moved, his hands gripping your waist as he flipped you onto your back. you let out a surprised gasp, your heart skipping a beat as he loomed over you, his body pressing you into the futon. the sudden shift in his demeanor left you breathless, a thrill of anticipation coursing through you as his face hovered inches from yours.

“Gun…” you whispered, your voice barely audible as he lowered his head, his lips brushing against your neck.

“mmm?” he hummed in response, his breath hot against your skin as he began to trail kisses along the curve of your throat. his hands moved with a deliberate slowness, slipping beneath the folds of your yukata to find the smooth skin of your back. you shivered at his touch, your body responding to the gentle caress of his fingers as they traced a path up and down your spine. his kisses grew more urgent, more passionate, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his lips moving hungrily against your skin as his hands roamed freely over your body. the fabric of your yukata shifted as he explored, his touch sending sparks of pleasure racing through your veins.

“Gun,” you gasped again, your fingers tangling in his raven hair as you arched into him, craving more of the sensation he was drawing from you. his hands were everywhere, gliding over the curve of your back, sliding down to cup your ass cheeks before moving up again, each touch sending shivers of pleasure rippling through you.

he pulled back slightly, his breath coming in shallow pants as he gazed down at you — your hair, disheveled and slightly damp from the shower, was scattered across the pillows, your breathing was a little ragged and the fabric of your yukata, pulled to the side, opened up a beautiful view of your chest, which was slightly heaving from confusion, your cheeks were burning with excitement and still a small amount of embarrassment, while due to the alcohol you barely remembered where you both were.

with a quiet growl, Gun again clung to your collarbones, his hands moved faster, skillfully, undoing the ties of your robe with practiced ease to pull the unnecessary fabric lower. without moving away from you even for a centimeter, he caressed your neck with his lips, moved up a little higher, biting the lobe of your ear and descending in a wet path lower, again to the collarbones, this time not lingering there, but going lower to your chest, clasping it with one hand and kneading it in his large, calloused palm. with each of his movements, you moved towards him more and more, forgetting yourself and melting in his arms, moaning from his each touch.

as he skillfully make the fabric fell away, leaving you exposed beneath him, he groaned softly, his eyes drinking in the sight of you.

“you are so beautiful” he murmured, his voice filled with reverence as he leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer as you melted into the kiss, losing yourself in the sensation of his mouth on yours, his hands on your body. right now there was only Gun, his touch, his warmth, the overwhelming passion that consumed you both.

“please” you whispered into his lips as he rose above you on his elbows again. one of his hands had already slid below your tummy, stroking your pussy with his entire palm, only fleetingly touching the sensitive bundle of nerves, pulling the first loud moan out of you.

“come on kitten, be quiet, you remember where we are” Gun's hot whisper enveloped your ear as his fingers continued to play with your wet pussy. “you know, this is a traditional old style house, the walls here are extremely thin” your boyfriend continued to whisper in your ear, enjoying your once again confused look as your cheeks flushed with renewed vigor. “you don't want anyone to hear us, do you, baby?” now one of his fingers slid up and down between your lips, smearing the moisture oozing out of you all over the entrance. he was lying on his side next to you, one of his hands reached under your neck as he place one finger in your mouth, making you suck and lick it with your tongue, while his other hand never left your pussy, now more insistently stroking and massaging your clit with one finger, while the other played with your tight entrance, pushing finger in just halfway.

time seemed to stand still as you surrendered to him, your body responding to his every caress and touch, every kiss, every whisper. the intensity of the moment, the way he made you feel cherished, desired, loved—it was all-encompassing, leaving you breathless and yearning for more.

and that's when you reached your first peak from his fingers caressing you deep inside, when your hot and wet walls tightened around him, and you could no longer stifle your moans with his fingers behind your cheek, only then Gun smiled insidiously, and with one light movement turned your softened body back onto your stomach. without wasting a second, his hands dug into the soft skin of your sides, right where he could feel the pelvic bones, and with your clouded brain you already assumed that there would be traces there in the morning. reaching for a pillow, and pushing it between your thighs and the futon, Gun hurriedly, casually stroked your pussy, passing from bottom to top, collecting all the juices of your previous orgasm, simultaneously stroking his cock, smearing mix of your saliva and his own spit along the entire length.

whimpering softly and burying your head in the pillow, in an attempt to stifle your moans, you gasped, clutching at the edges of the futon and the blanket under you, as the fat tip of his dick slowly squeezed into your tensed, gummy folds, painfully stretching you. a deep and heavy moan was heard from behind when Gun collapsed on top of you with all his weight, completely plunging his fat dick into your bosom, in one sharp movement, immediately hitting the g-spot, forcing you to arch your back, pressing your ass harder into his hips. with a satisfied purr, Gun covered your hands with his own, fastening them together into a lock, again leaning closer to you with his all body, pressing you into the thin mattress, he began to slowly move inside your warmth.

with each strong thrust, as he picked up speed, with each of his heavy breaths into your neck, it became harder for you to hold your ass higher, as well as your moans, almost drowned out by the pillow. over and over, as Gun's thick cock filled your gummy, warm walls completely, your eyelids grew heavy and your head fell back, right on his shoulder, as your jaw dropped, allowing sweet moans and whimpers to escape from your throat.

“kitten still wants the whole house to hear her, mm?” your boyfriend purrs breathlessly in your ear, mercilessly hammering into your poor pussy, forcing you to give up, and fall on the bed with your whole body, and only moan piteously when one of his arms wraps around your neck and closes your mouth, and the other one gets tangled in your hair, pulling it back just a little.

you never doubted that in the matter of bed, Gun always was a bit more wild and animalistic, but the way his hips slammed into you now, how heavy balls were beating against your clit, and the dirty sounds of squelching and slapping skin against skin, how his biceps tensed right where your cheek lay, all this made your eyes roll up to the back of your head and just whine pathetically under him and drool on his muscles.

you didn't even have the strength left, to hold still, all that helped him mercilessly hammer you into the mattress was the pillow under your hips while you lay under him and helplessly muttering incoherent words and praises. both intoxicated by the euphoria of sex, emotions and feelings, the two of you have lost your sense of time and space, just chasing your own peak and pleasure. to be honest, you didn't think much when your pussy covered Gun's twitching dick with cream, when he hitted his pink head right to the cervix, forcing you to scream and arch towards him, pressing your ass into his hips, and feel with your shoulder blades as his chest pressing you into bed.

and to be completely honest, you almost didn't remember how you both cum, the most important thing that was in front of your eyes was Gun's chest and his warm hand gently caressing your back, while he murmured something into your hair, when he covered you both with a blanket and you fell into a sweet sleep.

· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ꕥ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·

BONUS ;

the morning sunlight filtered softly through the shoji screens, casting a gentle glow over the room. you blinked awake, feeling the warmth of the futon and the lingering scent of Gun beside you. but as you turned over, reaching out to pull him closer, you found his side of the bed empty and cold. confusion washed over you as you sat up, realizing he was gone.

events of the night before came rushing back, and a deep blush crept over your cheeks. you buried your face in your hands, mortified at the thought of facing anyone after what had happened. Gun's parents, the staff — how could you possibly look them in the eye now? the thought of leaving the room made your heart race with anxiety, so you resolved to stay put, hoping to avoid any awkward encounters. minutes ticked by, each one stretching out into what felt like an eternity. you had no idea where Gun had gone or when he'd be back, leaving you in an uncomfortable solitude.

and just as you were about to retreat further under the covers, there was a soft knock at the door. your heart skipped a beat, dread pooling in your stomach. before you could respond, the door slid open, and Gun’s mother stepped inside.

she was impeccably dressed, her expression calm and composed. you immediately lowered your gaze, unable to meet her eyes, but she approached with a certain grace, her footsteps barely making a sound on the tatami mats.

“good morning,” she greeted you, her voice steady.

“m-mrs. Yamazaki,” you stammered, still unable to look up. “i-i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to-”

“stop,” she interrupted, her tone firm but not unkind. “you have nothing to be sorry of. it’s natural.”

you finally dared to glance up at her, confusion flickering in your eyes. she took a seat beside you on the futon, her movements deliberate and serene. “you’re a woman, and you’re desired and loved. there’s nothing shameful about that. that’s just the nature of men — wild and unbridled when a woman is around. i was in your place once, and someday, you’ll be in mine.”

you blinked, taken aback by her words. was that… a blessing?

“wait,” you began hesitantly, “so… you heard everything?”

mrs. Yamazaki let out a soft sigh, a hint of amusement flickering in her eyes. “i’m not an idiot. from beginning i saw the way my son looks at you. and i know Yuzuru well enough, and what’s going on in his head, to prepare your bedroom far away from our own.”

your cheeks burned hotter, the mortification almost unbearable. “so… you didn’t hear?”

she paused, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “let’s say the whole mansion didn’t hear you… but maybe some part of it did.”

you swore you caught a fleeting, light, and kind laugh in her voice, and for a moment, the tension between you eased. there was a warmth in her tone that you hadn’t expected, something almost motherly and understanding.

“i...” you trailed off, still unsure of what to say.

mrs. Yamazaki reached out, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. “you are welcome here, as long as you make my son happy. and believe me, i haven't seen him this happy in a very long time.”

her words soothed some of the anxiety gnawing at you, and you managed a small, grateful smile. “thank you.”

she nodded, standing up gracefully. “now, come along. breakfast is ready.” as she turned to leave, you felt a sense of relief, the earlier embarrassment slowly fading.

· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ꕥ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·

author's note 3 ; I FOUGHT INNER DEMONS TO FINISH IT I SWEAR!! SORRY THAT SPICY PART WASN’T THAT JUICY AND STUFF, I STILL NEED TO LEARN HOW TO WRITE PORN…HOPE U GUYS LIKE IT😤😤🫶🏻

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kingtomura · 1 year ago

Text

Good Girl

Summary: It’s not your fault that your boyfriend was hard for people to warm up to. God, your parents are so lame. But so were you. So you did what anyone else with strict parents would, and you cut him off.

Bad idea.

Word count: 4k

part two is here!

Content: Tomura Shigaraki x female reader, explicit content, kinda quiet sex, cunnilingus, praise, slight humiliation, unprotected sex, strict parents, toxic relationship with parents, AU - no quirks, no use of y/n, gets a little mushy at the end im sorry

You would rather be anywhere else but here. You would pay to be anywhere else but right here, right now being scolded like some teenager who had been caught sneaking out after curfew. But you were here and you weren’t going anywhere any time soon.

“He’s just not good for you,” your father’s voice stressed. It dragged on, pulling you from your drifting thoughts. “You have so much ahead of you and we even agreed to this gap year so that you could figure out what you wanted to do, not so you could run around with some delinquent boy with no future–”

“He‘s not a delinquent,” You cut off, “you’re judging him without even giving him a chance.”

Your father sighs, knowing he’s fighting a losing battle, but knowing you inherited his stubbornness has never detoured him from taking your objections head on. He’s been on this earth longer than you, butting heads with others longer than you have. “Well, whatever he is, he’s not allowed to see you again. That’s final.” he says with a shrug of his shoulders. False air of nonchalance sending fury through your veins.

There would be no more arguing and you knew it. You desperately look to your mother, who is in her usual stance of resignation and uselessness when it comes to his word. If she saw things your way, she would never say. And even if she agreed with you, there would be no change. It has always been your father’s way or no way.

“I’m an adult, you can't tell me who I can and can’t see.” you try once more, not ready to end things here. It’s suffocating.

He scoffs, bringing a hand up to count his fingers, “You live under our roof, you eat our food, you drive our car, you give me attitude when I agree to give you time to figure out your life when you decided to leave university after two semesters,” his voice is rising and you begin to feel your eyes burn with the threat of tears, your chest tightening as its harder to catch a breath. You can’t cry here, it would only make things worse. “I don’t think it matters how old you are. I am done with this conversation. End things with him now or you won't have a pot to piss in by the end of the day.”

This cannot be happening. You're still sat on the plush sofa of the living room as your father stalks off with your mother in tow. The latter only glancing back with an empty look of pity as you stare at where your father had just been. Words burned into your mind while hot tears finally break and run down your cheeks. This is really happening.

And Tomura was going to be upset.

In a perfect world you could meet up with him tonight, talk it over, or even run away together and leave all this behind, but you know better. You know the two of you haven’t dated long enough to warrant running away together, but it still crosses your mind. You’ve never felt this way about anyone before and it's painful to think you never will again. Tomura just made you feel so.. Alive. There was so much to him and his witty dry humor that keeps pulling you in.

He’s cynical, he’s moody and sometimes he’s mean but god he could be so soft. Touch you in ways that felt like he reached your soul. Quiet nights where you would stay at his house and watch him play video games would turn into late night sessions of making love until the twilight of dawn peeked through the dark curtains of his room. There was no way you could let him go. But you had to. You had to. Your father had given you no other choice. So you take the coward’s way out.

You text him.

You send him a short text that would send you to the bathroom dry heaving, but you didn’t know what else to do. What more could you say other than your father had snapped at you and you both could no longer be together. It would hurt so much more facing him head on. You knew that if you had to speak to him face to face that you would crack, probably throw out your silly idea of running away together and then face the awkward rejection. This was all you could manage. You felt awful for it, finally forcing yourself off of the floor and dragging your feet to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

It had been hours and there was no response from Tomura. You couldn't blame him. What could anyone say to a break up text? You hollowly hoped he would fight for you. Even a little. But the flat Read 14:57 showed you otherwise. This had now become a heartbreak you werent quite expecting. You couldn’t help but second guess every interaction you had with him before. If maybe you read into things a little too deeply. If maybe, some smaller, quieter part of you dreaded your father was right.

There was no use of dwelling on that now. No point in running through what you would never know. So, you sighed, and finished up in the bathroom. Slipping on your silk sleeping gown that stopped above your knees and adjusted the small straps on your shoulder. You had cried for hours after your argument – if you could even call it that– with your father was over and your face ached. The bags under your eyes showing the worse for wear state you had found yourself in. it would be okay, you told yourself. You just have to sleep it off.

And that was your plan and you slid into your welcoming bed, soft comforter embracing you and your worn feelings. You feel more tears begin to sting behind your eyelids before there's a sudden tap at your window.

A trick of the wind, you decide and return to your somber thoughts.

You would have to move on eventually, but tonight? He was the only thing on your mind. His eyes, his hair, the way he would feign annoyance when you were overly touchy, craving closer contact. He always indulged you. Always gave you more, you knew he liked it as much as you did. You were lovesick.

Tap.

There was that noise again. Louder than before as if someone had thrown a rock right at your window. The room was still and quiet so you knew it hadn’t been your imagination.

Jumping to your feet and shuffling towards the window in question you brushed your curtains to the side to see the possible culprit. And when you do, your heart drops and instant regret fills you. Stomach aching as you take in the sight before you.

It’s Tomura Shigaraki and he is pissed.

Tomura, your Tomura leering up at you with another rock resting in his hand, bigger and ready to be tossed at your window if the last attempt didn’t work.

You look around, knowing no one is in your bedroom but yourself and the moonlight, then go to open your window, ducking your head out to get a better look at him. There he was, black hoodie oversized and so soft, red eyes burning in anger but you aren't scared. You’re relieved, it's him. He's here to see you, mouth turned down in a scowl and fists clenched in fury but he was here.

You couldn’t stop your hushed whisper, “what are you doing here?”

“I came to talk.” Was his only reply before he dropped the rock and walked towards your window. It wasn’t terribly high up, but higher than he could reach without a bit of help from you.

Now that he was closer you could see the anger in his posture much more clearly. All tense shoulders and narrowed eyes. It was enough to make your stomach turn. You couldn't help but worry your bottom lip as he pulled out his phone and took a step closer.

“Really? Over a fucking text message?” He hissed, rasp in his voice, uncaring of the time of night or who could hear.

“Tomura, shh, please–” you tried, hands coming up to placate him, if only a little. Your father would have your head if he heard another man in his home, let alone Tomura Shigaraki.

He huffed a sarcastic laugh, disbelief taking over his features, but he obliged, “I don’t care what your father told you. He can’t control who you talk to.”

You shake your head, the all too familiar sting of tears in your eyes threatening to fall, “I know. I told him that, but he threatened to kick me out, to cut me off. I’m sorry Tomura, but I can't.”

“He can't do that.”

You nod, knowing all too well that your father would go through with his threat. “He can. Technically. I'm an adult, so it’s his choice.” The tears fall now, seeing the rage dissipate from Tomura, slight drop of his shoulders showing disbelief and disappointment. It's too much. This is why you didn’t want to see him, couldn’t face him. “I'm so sorry,” you whisper, trying to hold in the sobs threatening to wrack your body and possibly wake your parents up. This could not have ended worse. “I don't want it to be this way.”

“Wow, I didn't know you were such a good girl.”

Your breath hitches, caught off guard, “What is that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs. “I didn't know you did everything daddy says. What a good girl you are.” The tone is one you’re familiar with. Condescending. Challenging. He’s testing you.

Your cheeks flushed. What could you say? That you’re not a good girl, actually. Then what would that make you? A bad girl? You would walk right into his trap. He’s watching, waiting for a response. Something to make you slip up.

You don't have the chance to respond before he’s taking a step forward, lifting your chin with a finger so that you could look him in the eyes. Even in the dim lighting of the room those crimson eyes looked into your own. Like he was delving deeper, looking for the response that you can't seem to give him. Nothing else matters in this moment. It’s just him and you and the pale moonlight dancing between you. The air is tense and unmoving, like the smallest noise, the faintest blow of wind would ruin this moment.

You couldn’t take it, couldn’t wait another minute before your body moved, leaning forwards onto the tips of your toes to give you more leverage as your lips pressed to his. His lips were still cold and dry from the cool air outside but that didn’t matter. Nothing matters more than knowing you needed more of him and you needed it now. Tomura’s hand came to rest at the nape of your neck, pulling you closer and the kiss deeper. Taking all of you in as his other hand gripped your waist.

Your hands wasted no time burying into his hoodie – so soft and worn– the faint smell of citrus and cedar being a comfort as the intoxicating kiss deepened. Tomura wasted no time, slick tongue entering your mouth, hungry, like it was the last time you would have him this way. It was too much. It was not enough. You broke the kiss, a string of saliva following the short distance you put in between. Air seemed sparse, like you couldn't get enough and Tomura spoke before you could.

“Get on the bed.”

And you did, newfound vigor in your step as you eagerly did as what you were told. Energy ebbing through your veins as excitement overtook your previous anxiety. Tomura was a mere step behind, discarding his hoodie without care and joining you on the bed, caging you beneath him as he dove back in for another kiss, wet and warm, before trailing lower. Open mouthed kisses to your jaw, then neck, his hands, rough and warm gripping your thighs, taking in all he can. After leaving a particularly hard bite on your neck, Tomura lifted your gown up, smooth silk gliding with ease above your ass and resting below your breast. It was only natural for your legs to spread for him, cool air on your bare cunt making you shiver.

“Oh?” An amused huff from the man above you makes your cheeks heat further than before. He’s seen you like this many times before, but he’s always had a way of making you feel shy. “No panties, huh?”

You push past your embarrassment. “You know i dont wear them to b– ah!” you're cut off by the feeling of his finger sliding between your folds, slick making it glide, and rubbing over your clit. The surprise of the motion makes you press your thighs closer together. Tomura grins above you, before bringing his wet finger to his mouth, a mocking shh following the motion, tongue flicking out and licking the digit as his other hand pushed your legs apart again.

He bends down, bulge in his sweatpants pressing against your bare cunt. He’s so hard and that thought only makes you wetter. Tomura’s nose brushes yours, your eyelids fluttering shut as he dives to kiss you again. All open mouthed and wet. You could taste yourself on his tongue as well as feel the pressure of his clothed erection grind against you, rubbing against your bundle of nerves. You are sure your slick is dampening his sweatpants but Tomura doesn’t care. He’s grinding you into the mattress and you’re so close to begging him to get on with it you want to scream. But almost like he’s read your mind, he pulls away.

The kisses he places along your body set your nerves on fire, anticipation eating away at your patience as he takes his time. Once he’s reached his destination, right between your thighs, he places one wet kiss onto the plush of your inner right thigh. Another teasing move. Another way to make you squirm in excitement. He looks up at you, ruby eyes gleaming in the moonlight of the room.

“Be quiet for me, yeah?”

Tomura huffs a laugh at your eager nod, grin growing wider. So quick to please. Dedicated. “Good girl.”

The praise makes you falter for a second, embarrassment threatening to make its way to the surface once more. There was no time for it now, Tomura enjoyed catching you off guard. Loved surprises. He wastes no more time, tongue licking a wet strip between your lips. The action causing you to moan louder than you intended. Your hand rushes to cover your mouth. If you were to be caught in this predicament by either of your parents it would be horrendous for the both of you.

This doesn’t stop Tomura, though. If anything you were starting to think it encouraged him, because his relentless pace on your cunt was driving you wild. His long stripes simmered into just the tip of his tongue flicking your clit and sending jolts of pleasure roaring through you. You were already close, pleasure and pressure building and building until you were so close to tipping over–

Knock knock.

“Hey sweetie. I know it's late, I just wanted to talk for a second.”

It was your mom. Holy shit it was your mom and there's a boy in your bed with his head buried between your legs and holy shit. If she opened the door, if she barged into your room in the familiar way she always had a bad habit of doing, you would be done for. With wide eyes and accelerated breaths, you clamped down harder over your mouth with both hands. Even Tomura stopped in his tracks, gaze lazily focused on the door with curiosity bleeding into his indifference.

Your mother must have taken the silence as a sign of slumber, yet she continued. Voice muffled by the door between you both.

“Your father... was harsh today. And I’m sorry for that.” She pauses, long enough for you to believe she would be giving up and going back to her bedroom. You aren't so lucky, surely at this point you were very unlucky and you dreaded whatever else she had to say. “I just want you to know that he just wants the best for you.” your heart drops as she carries on, unaware and unconcerned of the other pair of ears listening in to her words. “We don’t know him that well. We can't risk you getting involved in something you're not ready for and throwing your future away.”

At this, Tomura rolls his eyes, interest clearly lost and goes back to his earlier movements. The sloppy kiss to your clit catches you off guard and forces a whine out of you. It was small, but still a noise. Squeezing your eyes shut you prayed this would be written off as an odd sleep noise. Wishing to the sky that it wasn't noticeable and Tomura would stop. He didn’t. It was in that moment he decided pressing a finger against your entrance would bring out more noises. The digit slipping in with minimal effort and adding more pleasure to this mix as he sucked your clit.

If your mother heard anything, she didn't make it known. The floorboards outside of your door creaking with the shifting of her weight. “Well, maybe we can get ice cream or something tomorrow. Have a little girl’s day?” The silence is palpable as she waits for an answer that won't come. “Okay well, goodnight sweetie. See you in the morning.”

You don’t know what you're more grateful for; the sound of her receding steps or that fact that Tomura wasn't cruel and waited until the telltale sound of a door opening and closing rang through the air before adding another finger and curling them. This time you couldn’t bite back the moan that escaped you, hands gripping the cotton of your duvet.

“Aw, how sweet,” Tomura started, sitting up while adding a thumb to your sensitive nub and rubbing slow circles to replace his mouth. “She wants to have a little girls’ day with you.”

His mocking tone would have gotten a reaction out of you any other time, but right now you were so close. On the precipice of an orgasm that’s been drawn out for far too long. You could only look at him with half lidded eyes as his fingers worked like magic sending you closer and closer, your breath hitching as you finally, finally reached the climax. Body shaking pleasure cascades over you like a tidal wave.

“There we go,” Tomura whispers, giving your cunt a playful tap after letting you ride the sensation out. He pulls away completely to take off his sweatpants and underwear, cock already hard and leaking. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips at the sight and you hear his breathless chuckle. “I’ll let you have a taste next time, but right now, I can't wait any longer.”

It was only when he began to line up with your entrance that you absently wondered about the lack of condoms you owned. You look up at him, question burning on your tongue but he only grins at you, and you swore in that moment he was a mind reader. “I didn’t bring any with me, sorry,” his voice was far from apologetic as he stroked his cock, rubbing the head between your folds and against your clit, slick soaking the head. “But don't worry,” he continued, leaning forward and you felt the pressure at your entrance, excitement buzzing through your veins. “I’ll pull out.”

Whether you believed him or not didn’t matter, you had no time to process a thought as he began stretching you to the limit with his size. A gasp escaped your parted lips as the sickeningly sweet feeling of being stretched too far too fast took over. He gave you a minute to adjust, even as his cock twitched in anticipation of movement. The grip he had on your hips was tight enough to bruise and you knew it was taking a lot of his self control to wait for you.

He pressed on, figuring it had been long enough and bottomed out with a sigh. Your walls clenched around him and swore you could cum from the stretch alone. After giving you a second to breathe he pulled back, almost pulling out, only to snap his hips back forward into you. Your head lolled onto the pillow, hand coming up once more to mute the moans dragging from your body. Tomura hoists your legs onto each side of his shoulders,bending them forward and successfully folding you like a lawn chair as he started his aggressive pace, forcing your tight heat to clench around his cock.

“Oh, fuck…” you couldn’t help but mutter as you struggled to hold off your already approaching orgasm.

Tomura saw this as a challenge. “What? You gonna cum on my cock?” he mocked, pace wild and rough, leaving you gasping as you shut your eyes, not ready to admit how right he was. “It's okay,” he continued, leaning closer and allowing his dick to press deeper inside you. The drag hitting the bundle of nerves inside and nearly sending you over the edge. “Come on, cum on my cock like the good girl you are.”

Those words push you over, hips convulsing as your legs shake and it takes Tomura slapping a hand over your mouth this time to quiet you. You couldn’t focus on anything else, let alone keeping quiet. Your body felt light and Tomura fucked you through it. His pace grew more erratic as his grinning face became one of focus, brows furrowing as his eyes shut and he focused on his pleasure. Your pussy squeezing around him making it harder for him to stave off his own nearing climax. You were worried that at this point you were both too far gone. The silence of the home would leave the messy noises between you both loud and clear for the entire house to hear. Tomura was great at keeping his composure but the soft groans coming from your lover only showed how much he was losing his grip.

“Can’t– fuck, sorry–” you didn’t have time to decipher his strange words, your curious eyes meeting his face to gauge his expression before you feel it.

His cock twitches inside you, seed painting your insides white as his thrusts didn't slow. He was hammering away at your insides, only pumping his cum further into you. You feel so full, the warmth spreading over your body like a blanket. He came in you. Even though he said he wouldn’t, he did. The worst part about it? You don’t care. It's invigorating. You feel even more attached to him. Even closer. You want more.

Overstimulated and weak, you whimpered, thoughts swimming as Tomura finally came down from high. Slowing his thrusts and panting heavily. Your heart is drumming against your chest as he removes your sore legs from his shoulders. Shuddering as he slips out of your tight heat, feeling the cum dripping out of you and onto your sheets.

The bed dipped as he took his place next to you. Out of breath and eyes focused on the ceiling. Your ears were ringing with the sudden quietness of it all. Things felt different, heavy.

“You could always just not tell them.” It was Tomura who broke the silence first. “Act sad, mope around, and then come see me at night.”

You glanced over, vaguely registering the sweat cooling on your body. You would need to get up and get cleaned up soon. “Yeah, but if they catch me–”

“They won't. I’ll teach you how.” he turns towards you, bringing a hand to your chin to make you face him. There’s a fuzzy feeling turning in your chest and the familiarity of heat rising to your cheeks is starting to drive you mad. His grin is enamoring, red eyes almost glowing with mischief in the moonlight. “I’ll show you the ropes.”

There's an ache that tugs at your chest as you nod. “Okay.”

You are so fucked.

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki tomura x you #mha x reader #boku no hero academia #my works #tomura shiragaki #tomura x reader #mha tomura #shigaraki smut #fanfic #my hero academia

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starlightxsvt · 1 year ago

Text

Sentinel's Serenade | c.sc

pairing ➳ bodyguard!Scoups x heiress!reader

genre ➳ drama, angst, romance, smut.

word count ➳ 29.5k (i'm sorry)

warnings ➳ car crash, ptsd, flashbacks of war, panic attack, murder, violence, guns, blood, death, fingering, unprotected sex, edging, female oral, arguments, coups is an a-hole but he has reasons, he was also in the military, Jun is a bad guy here(im sorry), jihoon blesses us with his special appearance.

synopsis ➳ As you start digging up an accident that has been brushed under the rug, you make an enemy who is out to get you no matter what. Amidst all the chaos you develop feelings for your bodyguard who has built walls of steel around him.

"This is your new bodyguard, Seungcheol."

Your head tilts upward, as you scan the man standing in front of you with careful eyes. He's tall and broad; exactly how you'd imagine a bodyguard to be, along with an emptiness in his eyes, so cold and robotic that would only be achievable after being through some heavy shit, you assume. Your father continues listing off his certifications and qualities but your brain doesn't capture much after hearing that he can speak sign language and is an ex navy SEAL; too busy getting distracted with his handsome features and dissecting him as much as you can just from looking.

The man isn't handsome in the typical sense, definitely not the handsome you're used to seeing in magazine covers and charity galas. No, he's ruggedly handsome, shielding himself with a tough exterior, his thick brows knotted in a frown and his full, red lips set in a grim line, blond hair brushed back neatly.

With the way he looks in that expensive suit hugging his body, he could pass as a business tycoon but his aura is completely different; alert, strict, impenetrable.

His hand reaches out for yours to meet in a handshake after your father is done introducing him. You watch his extended hand for a while, observing little scratches and cuts that seem to still be healing on his knuckles before meeting his hand. As expected, his palms are calloused but cool. His grip is firm, just like the look in his dark eyes and for some unknown reason tingles shoot down your spine.

"Choi Seungcheol, ma'am." His voice has a deep timbre to it. It'd be perfect for audiobooks, you muse idly. "He is to be with you whenever you are going outside till the foreseeable future." Your father states. There isn't much room for arguments here and you aren't too bothered having a shadow because this isn't the first time.

You had a personal bodyguard six months ago and the man sustained a serious hip injury due to...circumstances involving you. Now that you are back and ready to face the world, you know that keeping a personal bodyguard is a wise decision, even if your father may have assigned him with ulterior motives.

It's okay, the games are just beginning and you are playing for the long haul.

—

"Met your new guard on the way. Guy's a robot." Chan says as he strolls into the library with his hands in his pockets. You assume he's talking about Seungcheol, who is currently stationed outside the library room even though you told him to take a break.

A copy of Jane Eyre sits open on your lap as you look up to meet Chan's eyes. Offering him a small smile, you motion him to sit next to you. Your younger brother had been out of the country due to business for the past few weeks so it has been a while since you last saw him.

"So you are really going back to work?" He asks, a soft, concerning note to his voice as he sits down next to you on the divan. You sigh and give him an exasperated look.

"I'm more than ready. Sitting idle hasn't done me much good." You sign.

His eyes watch the movements of your hands before he murmurs, "It will be tough, you know... without your... voice. I don't want you to get into any trouble, especially after everything."

"I'll manage." You sign. You will.

It has been six long months since the accident. Six months since you lost your mother. Six months since you have last uttered a word. Six months since you have been at work.

Six months since your life has completely been turned upside down.

You have been thrown entirely off track, the reigns of your horse being snatched away by a dark force plotting far worse things. But you will uncover them. No matter how long or what it takes.

"Dad thinks you're not ready yet," Chan comments, breaking your train of thought.

You huff out an annoyed breath.

"I don't really care what he thinks you know," you sign and your brother snorts, looking at you with a fond, amused expression. "It will be hard." He says absent-mindedly. "To adjust back to everything."

You nod because you know it will be. You have already heard the board members express their dissatisfaction over you returning as the CEO. Lee publishing has been in its prime since last year and they're afraid it's gonna lose its position with a mute CEO. Funny how they forget you are the one who brought it to where it is today. Lee Publishings, your family's publishing company was handed over to you by your grandfather. He started it from scratch and it became the first successful family business before he decided to hand it over to you when you became twenty.

Your bond with your grandfather was always special, maybe because you both shared the same love for books and sense of humour. You grew up watching him read and collect books and naturally you picked up on that habit. As you grew up you watched him work closely, helping him wherever you could with the company which led him to hand it over to you.

Not your father, your brother or any of your cousins but you.

He was lucky enough to watch you take on the role and make the company flourish for all three months before he passed away peacefully one night in his sleep.

The feud began after that as your uncle, Jin Lee and your father started expressing their concerns, saying that you wouldn't be able to rule over the company well now that your grandfather wasn't here to guide you. While your uncle wanted the publishing house for himself and his useless son, Jun, your father wanted to hand the company over to Chan, believing that your brother would be a better president, and offering you the role of the vice president instead. It came to you without any surprise because your brother was always your father's favourite child.

You, however, had stood your ground and promptly refused, challenging them to try and take it from you. Thankfully, your brother was on your side, saying that it rightfully belonged to you and you were more than eligible to rule over it. Chan's disinterest may have backed off your father temporarily, you can tell, but your uncle is still desperate, now more than ever.

"You are going to move back to your place soon as well," Chan complains with a pout, breaking your train of thought. Giving him a sad smile you open your arms, inviting him for a hug which he gladly accepts. After one week of staying at the hospital and your mother's burial, you decided that you would stay at the mansion you grew up in, essentially your father's house, instead of your own apartment in the city, for the foreseeable future. This mansion held a lot of memories for you, especially with your mother. Breakfast in the garden, late night talks in the huge library and sipping on tea while watching the sunset together through the large window in the west wing.

You could never imagine a life without your mother yet here you are, living one. But it is time you slowly start going back to where you belong.

"It will be lonely here without you…and mom," Chan whispers.

You can only blink back your tears and hug him tighter.

—

Just on your fifth day back, you realise that things are not going to be anywhere near easy for you, not that you expected, but still.

The moment you get to work on Wednesday morning, there is a commotion outside the main entrance of the building which leads your driver to drop you and Seungcheol at the underground entrance. You are greeted by the bleak face of your secretary as you walk to your office, who announces that the vice president is there to see you. Once you enter your office, you indeed find vice president Jun, your dear cousin, sitting on your seat with the face of a cat who ate the canary.

Seungcheol, who is always trailing behind you like a shadow, moves— to drag him out of your seat no doubt, but you raise your hand as a gesture to tell him to stop.

"Good morning, Miss Lee. Though it doesn't look like a good morning for you," He grins, standing up and rounding the desk lazily while tilting his chin at the coffee table where the morning paper is lying. You pick it up and in bold letters on the front page, the headline greets you with: "President of Lee Publishings Accused of Employee Mistreatment."

It goes on and on about some bullshit of how you have been treating employees badly and holding their salary because you have apparently returned with a nasty temper as you can't speak anymore. You can't help but scoff, because the reality is far, far from what the paper says.

Ever since you've been back at work, all you've ever done is stay inside your office and go through all the pending documents and close deals that were hanging. Your only human contact has been your secretary Hansol and your bodyguard, both of whom have more similarities to a wall than a human. Your previously bubbly secretary has turned awkward now, probably because you have lost your voice and holding a conversation with you proves to be hard. Seungcheol, on the other hand, is like a robot who stands by your door all day and only answers your questions as briefly as possible, most of the time with a yes or no.

Your hands form fists at your sides as you glare at Jun, who stands there, pridefully evil, watching you with a satisfied grin on his face. "Things are looking rather bleak for you," He tuts in mock sympathy as he strolls towards you, hands in his pockets. As he comes to stand right next to you, his hand reaches out for your shoulder to pat you but Seungcheol grabs his wrist and twists it, making him shriek in pain.

"Fuck! Let go, you asshole!"

"You do not have permission to touch her," Seungcheol calmly states, still not letting go. You sigh and sign Seungcheol to kick him out, which he does immediately while your cousin screams in protest as you walk to your desk and sit down, rubbing your temples in frustration.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" Seungcheol asks after closing the door behind him.

You watch him for a while, your mind running a mile a minute as you think of a thousand ways of payback. But then you remind yourself that you have to approach this calmly. So you force a smile and sign.

"Send my secretary in. —

A couple of days later, you are not pleasantly surprised to see your father waiting to greet you at the front of the house when you return from work.

Just as Seungcheol opens the car door for you to get out, your father marches towards you.

"What did you do, girl? I told you to stay put! Your uncle Jin is here to see you!" His tone is not friendly. In fact, you pick up heavy disappointment, which you expected. This was bound to happen after you fired your cousin Jun from his position today.

You smile calmly at him before turning to Seungcheol and signalling to him that he is relieved of his duties. He looks at you warily and you have a feeling he wants to say no but he ultimately just nods and takes his leave, driving away the car to park.

"He's waiting for you in the backyard." Your father announces. As you start walking away he yells, "You better fix what you have done today! The company won't last if you keep on making hasty decisions like these!"

Deciding to ignore him you walk to the backyard with unfaltering steps and find your uncle standing there with arms crossed, feet tapping furiously. You approach him with a smile, not a friendly one but the subtle smile of challenge as he takes furious steps towards you when he sees you coming.

"You! What have you done, _____? You fired my son from his position!" He hollers, marching to stand in front of you, fury blazing vividly in his eyes.

Silently, you hold eye contact with him.

"You think you can do as you please after you get into an accident and we'll just let you? Who do you think you are to fire my son?"

You smirk before producing your notepad from your bag and start scribbling.

"I'm the president of the company and based on our investigation your son was found guilty of spreading fake news about me mistreating my employees. The reporter who got paid to write it confessed himself."

You hold out the notepad for him to read.

"How dare you believe a lowly reporter over my son? Over your own cousin?" Your uncle is livid. "If you keep behaving like this then I'll retract all my assets shared with your father. You know I can take over the Lee Enterprises anytime if I want."

You roll your eyes. Yeah, do whatever you want.

You start writing down. "If you have nothing productive to say I suggest you leave now and have a chat with your precious son. I have had a long day."

As soon as he reads the words written on the paper he bats the notebook away from your hand, making you gasp. The look in his eyes is akin to a madman's as he takes a threatening step towards you and leans in to whisper in your ear.

"If you don't want to end up like your mother I suggest you start behaving, ______." He sneers.

Your whole body freezes up like a block of ice as your breath catches in your lungs. Your uncle's eyes are cruel, threating, filled with a layer of secrets that you're desperate to uncover as he takes a step back. The look of panic on your face brings satisfaction to him as watches you for a few moments, letting his words sink in and challenging you to do something about it before he smirks and walks out of the backyard.

Your legs, which have been shaky until now finally give up and you fall on the perfectly trimmed grass, your breaths coming out in the form of pants.

The horrible realisation sinks into you.

Your suspicions were true.

His words just confirmed that which means you need to up your game. Immediately.

You're surprised at how quickly, how easily you think of one person when you need someone to help you.

Hands shaky, you type a message to Seungcheol.

— There's something different about Seungcheol the moment he arrives at your front gate in his BMW. As you watch him get out of the car and jog towards you, you realise it's his fit; he's not wearing his typical two piece suit.

No, he's dressed in a fitted white polo and black slacks, the polo so tight that you can see the bulging outline of his chest and arms. Despite the negative thoughts brewing in your head you get distracted for a second as you ogle him unashamedly and take longer than you should to respond to his question. "Are you alright, ma'am? I wasn't expecting you to call so late."

You roll your eyes. It's only like eight in the evening. Though you can see why it was unexpected for him because he is relieved from duty as you get off work in the evening. Not replying to him, you tilt your head towards his car, indicating to him to open the passenger side door. He looks doubtful for a second before following your instructions.

"Where would you like me to take you?" Seungcheol asks once you're both inside the car and he has started the engine. You sigh and sign, "Somewhere far and quiet."

His thick brows knot into a frown as he thinks for a few seconds before simply nodding. Then, surprising you, he reaches over and pulls your seatbelt across your chest, which you just realised you forgot to put on. His being so close lets you get a really good sniff of his cologne and once again you get heavily distracted as you start wondering what he'd do if you leaned into his neck and wrapped your arms around him.

Where are these thoughts coming from?

You have no idea. This is not the first time you've had them, though.

It is like this new disease you have caught. Your mind goes haywire whenever you look at Seungcheol for a second too long. The first time it happened was right after the rumour of employee mistreatment broke out and you were leaving from work. Even though you took the back exit through the underground parking, the press mobbed you, throwing a string of questions at you while their cameras kept flashing repeatedly.

Seungcheol, of course, managed everything very efficiently and got you away safely. The way his hand squeezed your shoulder, his face hovering near yours while he asked if you were okay was a feeling that has managed to stay with you very vividly even now. You were a bit spaced out but not for the reasons he was thinking; it was just that he looked too attractive and his touch felt too comforting, even though he was merely doing his job.

You are a tiny bit ashamed to admit that he has made your heart flutter since then, with every little thing he did.

You don't get to dwell on your day dreams for too long because he's leaning back in his seat and pressing the accelerator, making you jerk softly.

A quiet thirty minutes of drive later you discover that Seungcheol has taken you to the beach right on the outskirts of the city. It isn't something you were expecting but you realise it is something you definitely need.

As he parks the car on a small cliff overlooking the entire beach, you hear the soothing sounds of the wave crashing into the shore clearly.

And it brings back vague memories of your childhood, when your mother took you to this beach because she loved the air here so much. As if in a trance, you get out of the car and stand by the cliff, letting the cool sea breeze wash over you as the salty smell in the air invades your nose. Your bodyguard stands by you silently for a while and without looking, you can tell that his eyes are on you, watching you carefully.

Sometime later, he breaks the peaceful silence, "Would like to eat something? There are a few food trucks nearby." He moves his head to motion at the food trucks parked far away, their lights blinking. Shaking your head no, you fill your lungs with the cool night air by taking one more deep breath before moving to the back of the car and leaning against the trunk. Seungcheol follows you as you pat the space next to you for him to come and stand.

He does so and you let out a heavy breath before signing. "I need you to do something for me. Something that has to remain a secret."

Seungcheol raises his brows slightly before frowning. He doesn't reply immediately and you stand upright, holding eye contact with him. "It is very important to me, Seungcheol. I need to know if I can trust you to keep it a secret from everyone," you sign.

"Okay, ma'am." He finally responds.

"Even from my father," you sign. "I know you're working for him but for this task, I will pay you separately so you will only answer to me about this, okay?"

"Okay ma'am."

"Good." You huff out a breath. "You are from a prominent security company, right? I need you to look into a man for me. Jin Lee."

"Your uncle?" He looks bewildered. "Yes. I need his whereabouts on 23rd March of this year. And I need to know who he contacted before this accident. Any call or bank transfer that seems remotely out of place, you look into it for me, okay?" He pauses for a breath before replying. "Okay, ma'am."

"Just call me ____, Seungcheol."

— On the weekend, you have lunch with Chan in the garden of the mansion, the place where you two had lunch with your mother, as he eagerly asks you about how you have been doing and assures you that he is here if you need anything. After lunch, you see him off for a meeting before aimlessly strolling through the hallways of your house by yourself.

The cleanup at your place has been completed so you are planning on moving back tomorrow and you realise it will be a while before you come back here. Through your walk, you come across a painting hanging on the large hallway towards your father's office that makes you stop to stare.

It is a picture of your mother with you and Chan, taken when you were about twelve years old. It is your favourite picture in the entire house, maybe because you have a memory attached to it or maybe because it's simply magnificent, the three of your smiles shining so brightly.

It was a gift from your grandfather to your mother on her thirty seventh birthday and she had it hung here, right in front of a large set of windows that overlooks the garden. The afternoon sun falls right on the picture, casting it in an ethereal glow and it is almost like your mom is here, cheering you on with her beautiful smile.

With a soft sigh and tears withheld, you say goodbye to the picture and walk away. You are aiming to go straight to your room but the loud voices coming from your father's office makes you stop.

You realise the door is just slightly opened and you walk over to shut it but stop in your tracks when you hear your uncle's voice.

"You better get your daughter under control or it will not be good for you!" He is shouting.

"Are you threatening me?"

"I am warning you, brother."

"Jin, please, just let her be for a while. She has lost her voice. I am sure she will not be able to perform like before. Then you and the board can fire her."

You are somewhat hurt by your father's words but once again, they do not come to you as a surprise. "Exactly! Why should I let the company go to waste because of her poor performance? You tell her to fuck off or I will remove her myself!"

"Jin, please. You already got rid of Aileen. You do not have to go any further.

Your world has come to a stop.

You forget to breath, as you simply stand there, stunned, convinced that you heard wrong.

You had to have heard wrong.

"I got rid of her and I'll get rid of you too, if you don't listen to me! Don't forget I own the shares of the family hotel just as much as you do. It will not be a challenge to turn the board of directors against you. Imagine what will happen after that? Your most lucrative business will be completely mine and your dear son will become penniless."

There is no reply from your father. Or maybe there is but you do not hear it.

There is a deafening ring in yours ears as you muffle your sobs by clutching your mouth tightly and making a beeline for your room.

You cannot believe this. You absolutely can not. It is something you could not have imagined even in your wildest nightmare. Your father knows your uncle killed your mom, yet he is staying silent. Why? Why!

Granted, your parents were never happily married and growing up you have heard that your father has mistresses. It never bothered your mother because their marriage was only a business agreement in the very first place and she had all her attention focused on you and Chan. But to think that he is letting her killer walk free is unbelievable.

After all he lived with her, his wife, the mother of his children for so many goddamn years!

By the time you have entered your room, you are full on crying, ugly and loud. Tears are blurring your vision as you flail around the room, helplessly, aimlessly, devastatedly.

And before you know it, you are throwing the thousand dollar porcelain vase by your bedside to the ground.

The piece shatters into bits and the sound oddly satisfies you, prompting you to throw another one. And for the next few minutes you throw anything you can find in your room, not caring how valuable they are, not caring that a shard of glass has ripped the skin below your left thumb, making you bleed.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck you! Fuck all of you!" You yell at the top of your lungs, not caring to keep up the facade anymore.

Once you have run out of energy, you stop to look at the mess you made, glad that the messy room and the pain from the cut on your hand makes your mind go blank for a while.

But you do not miss the small, almost inaudible creak of the door to your room. Your head whips into the direction to see none other than Seungcheol, standing right out front, his eyes wide and his lips parted in a small gasp of surprise.

You forget to breathe as you realise he might have been standing there for a while and he witnessed everything.

Everything.

He knows your secret. He knows that you are not mute. Before you know it, your feet are moving as you push open the door and yank your bodyguard into your room, not before glancing left and right down the hallway to check anyone's presence.

As soon as you lock the door, you press him against it and lean on your tiptoes, inching your face closer to him as you whisper, "Keep. This. A. Secret."

You had meant for the words to come out threatening but your tear stained eyes and cracking voice doesn't help establish that image.

Seungcheol stares at you with a gaze you are quite unable to decipher. His eyes are soft, full of wonder and you think you can almost spot admiration and something more in them and for a moment, you find yourself lost in the sea of his gaze.

"______". He calls your name softly. His hands come to your upper arms to hold you gently as he puts some distance between the two of you before ushering you towards your bed and making you sit down. "Your secret is safe with me," he confirms as he sits next to you. "But I am glad you can speak again." He murmurs, giving your shoulder a soft squeeze as he looks around the room you just trashed.

You let out half a sigh of relief, knowing that your secret is safe and you find yourself speaking before you can even think. "I got my voice back quite a while ago. Two months after the accident, actually." Seungcheol's head whips towards you, his eyes widening in surprise.

"My uncle seemed very happy when I lost my voice and he was being weirdly nice to me. I already had my suspicions that the accident was an inside job so I pretended to act mute." You whisper, eyes trained on the floor.

How right you were!

It was an inside job but it had its roots spread out much farther than you thought. Your uncle killed your mother while your father sits there in silence despite knowing that!

The thought makes you shake your head as a dry, mirthless laughter wrings out of your throat. Your head falls back as you laugh like a mad woman as Seungcheol watches you, absolutely perplexed.

He gently tries calling your name. "______—"

"My father knew!" You are yelling between laughter. "He fucking knew!"

The poor man only looks more confused.

"He knew— he… he knows my uncle killed my mom but he is staying silent! He said it himself! I heard him! Do you understand, Seungcheol, my father is turning a blind eye! He is choosing to save his fucking business over me, over his children!"

Seungcheol looks absolutely baffled upon hearing your words as he falls silent with a bleak expression. He does not have the adequate words to respond to that and he simply does not know what he can do at this point to make you feel better. However, he takes notice of the cut below your thumb and reaches for your hand, setting it down on his thigh while he takes out a handkerchief and gently ties it around the injury. "You hurt yourself," he states quietly, almost to himself before meeting your eyes. "I know what you heard was painful but you need to take care of yourself. For your mother, at least."

And the damn breaks.

You break into a full on sob as you wrap your hands around his large shoulders, molding yourself against him as you cry unceremoniously in his chest. Seungcheol's arms wrap around your body in an effortless blanket of security as he rests his chin on top of your head and strokes your head while you try to burrow yourself deeper into his chest.

It takes a while for the messy array of tears to subside and once you have calmed down a little, you take notice of his white shirt which is now completely wet where you rested your face. "I'm sorry," you croak weakly, trying to pull away but he holds you by the arms and makes you face him by tilting your chin with his finger.

"There is nothing to be sorry for, okay? Now tell me what I can do to make this a little better. Just so you know, my team is almost done digging up about your uncle. We should have a solid update tomorrow."

A small sob of gratitude and relief escapes your throat and Seungcheol immediately shushes you, his eyes helplessly searching for yours. "C-can you please ask them to look into my dad as well," you hiccup, saying the words you never imagined would come out of your mouth. "I need to know his whereabouts before the accident."

Seungcheol assures you with a nod while his hand strokes your back soothingly. Exhaling a loud, defeated sigh, you wipe your tears and mutter. "Please help me pack my bags, Seungcheol. I am moving back to my place. Tonight. I cannot stay here a second longer."

The man looks like he wants to protest but goes against it and simply nods, getting up to retrieve your bags from your closet.

After hastily packing your belongings you waste no time to march out of the house with Seungcheol trailing behind you. You leave a note on the kitchen, simply saying something came up and you had to leave early.

You are extremely grateful that you do not come across your father because one look at him and the ticking time bomb inside you would explode and you definitely cause a scene.

As the night grows deeper slowly, you isolate yourself in your room once you come back to your apartment. Despite Seungcheol's insistence, you tell him to call it a day and lock yourself up in your room, throwing yourself a pity party. It has been a while since you had such a restless night— the last one being after the accident, and it takes a long long time for sleep to come.

When your eyes finally fall shut, hues of orange and blue have already grazed the sky.

—

You do not feel like your best self in the morning but the news Seungcheol brings is enough to get you back on track.

The manila file sitting on your desk is a gold mine, it's contents spread throughout the surface as you sit in silence, hands linked together under your chin, your brain finally connecting the pieces together.

Seungcheol's friends found a shady bank transfer made by your uncle, two weeks before the accident. The tip led them to an old gang who, after applying some tactics, admitted to taking money from Jin Lee in order to commit a hit and run. After digging around some more they found papers that now lie on your table, a clear proof of your uncle's deal with the gang, which they kept as insurance. Among the documents, one particularly catches your eye.

It is the information of the driver of the truck that hit your car.

The picture is like a jolt of electricity through your system as you are immediately taken back to the scene of the crash, the moments after where you were hovering over the brink of consciousness. You remember seeing a man peeking into your wrecked car, a man with a scar on his left cheek and all this time you could not fully believe that to be real.

But it was. You did not imagine it. The picture on the document is that of the driver you saw that morning, the man with a scar on his left cheek, his eyes dark and blank, his lips twisted in a line of malice.

"_____?" Seungcheol's gentle voice guides you out of your head. "My friend had his confession recorded. Would you like to hear it?"

"Of course."

"I need to warn you…it is pretty detailed. About the accident, you know." He looks guilty, even though he has no reason to be.

You swallow a lump in your throat as your heart beat picks up. Are you really ready to revisit that morning? Relive all those feelings?

You have to.

Seungcheol pushes a voice recorder towards you on the table, pressing a button to turn it on.

"I was told that there would be only a girl and her bodyguard in the car! I swear I didn't know her mother would be there as well! I did not mean to kill the woman! After I hit the car, I went to check and…and the older woman was dead! The girl looked barely alive and I didn't think she would survive…."

There is a buzzing sound in your ears. It is deafening.

You are transported to a void where these words keep repeating and repeating, pulling you down, sucking you deeper into a pit of despair. It hurts so much you are sure death would be easier.

Your head hangs low, silent tears trailing down your cheek as you stare at your lap. Seungcheol calls your name multiple times, asking if you are okay but you cannot bring yourself to form a reply.

The pain, the guilt, the shame, the anger— everything is overwhelming. These feelings consume you whole and dry you out until you are left with an unbelievable urge to scream and holler and cry.

"______, please, can you hear me?" Seungcheol's touch on your shoulder makes you jolt. You look up to find him standing next to you, eyes glazed with concern as he peers down at you.

"I am fine," you reply after taking a shaky breath.

"Are you sure? Maybe you should call it day—"

"Seungcheol?" You interrupt him. You wipe the tears clean and sit up straight. "Can you call my lawyer? I need him here as soon as possible."

—

Bad news awaits you the next day when you return home from work.

As usual Seungcheol walks you to the door of your apartment but you realise something is up when he abruptly stops after stepping out of the elevator and turning towards the door to your place. Following his line of sight you realise he has taken notice of the slightly open front door to your house.

Your heart drops as a small gasp leaves your lips.

Someone broke into your place. And it does not take a genius to guess who Plus it also confirms that your uncle has found out you have been snooping around. A calm man like him does not make a move unless things are really dire and this proves that he is desperate to get that evidence out of your hands.

Seungcheol tenses up beside you and uses a hand to push you behind his body in a protective manner as he steps closer to the door. With the other hand he pulls out his revolver, holding it out and pointing it straight.

"S-Seungcheol—" You start panicking.

He shushes you before you can say much, eyes trained forward as he takes measured steps. Swallowing the bubble of fear, you hold his back as you follow him into your apartment.

The storeroom which is right on the left after entering is the first place Seungcheol checks, and when he finds it clear he pushes you inside haphazardly.

"Don't come out until I get you." He commands, shutting the door on your face and clicking the lock before you can even process anything. Baffled, you stand still inside the dimly lit room, carefully listening for any sounds, while a thousand different thoughts run through your head. This building is one of the most secure residential buildings in the city and breaking in here is quite literally impossible. Which means it is clear your uncle bribed someone on the inside and the realisation of how scary things are getting dawns on you, making you chew nervously on your lower lip as you start to grow restless.

Thankfully, a quick while later Seungcheol opens the door, a wary look on his face and you can immediately tell something is wrong. As soon as the door opens, you push past him and head for your bedroom, only to find the place absolutely trashed. Everything is a mess; from your bed to your closet to your dresser and it is evident that someone took their sweet time to comb through every one of your possessions and as you take in the havoc, the last of your doubts go away.

They were undoubtedly looking for the documents and the recorder.

Your hands fist at your sides as tears of anger and frustration gather at the corners of your eyes. It only amplifies when you see one of your most precious belongings lying face down on the floor— a picture of you and your mother taken on your eighteenth birthday.

Immediately you kneel and pick the frame up only to find it broken, making you heave out a helpless cry of anger. As you clutch it to your chest, your eyes scan the mess around you and a sense of doom settles in your gut. So this is what your life has come to now.

"Come. You're not staying here." Seungcheol's quiet command disrupts your thoughts.

"W-what? What do you mean? Where am I gonna go?" You scramble to stand up.

"At my place. This place isn't safe, _____." He pins you down with a serious look. "Pack your essentials and I mean absolute essentials. Your passport and any important papers."

"Wait, I—"

"Now." He commands. "I am gonna make some calls to find out who did this. Be ready in ten." He is walking out of the room while dialling a number, leaving you flabbergasted.

A while later you sit on the passenger's seat next to Seungcheol as he pulls the car out of your underground parking and onto the busy street, eyes focused on the road in silence. The only sound surrounding you is the sound of the bustling city and it isn't enough to ease the thick tension in the car. Seungcheol's jaw is clenched and his lips are pressed into a thin line as you observe him while he stares straight ahead. "What do we do after going to your place? I can't just hide forever." You break the silence with your words, your eyes trained out the window. It looks like it's going to rain.

"You'll stay in my place until the threat is removed. I'll soon receive the CCTV footage and from there on we can track down who ordered to invade your home." He declares.

"It was my uncle." You say without much thought.

Seungcheol turns to look at you for a beat before focusing on the road again. "You sound sure." He murmurs.

"Who else would it be then? He is after the evidence." You reply. Seungcheol remains silent for a beat before agreeing with a hum. Another silence follows after that. You take occasional, shy glances at him while he drives and when the car stops at a red light in an intersection, you call for him, making him turn his head to look at you. "Seungcheol?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you. For today."

He stares at you quietly, not blinking. "I just did my job."

"No, you are doing a lot more. You are helping me out in so many ways and I can only keep myself together thanks to you."

He only stares more at you. His gaze is intense and his eyes are hypnotic; if you stare too long it unnerves you, dissects you open. "You will be fine, _____." He replies after a long pause. "With or without me."

His words trigger you.

With or without me?

You want to yell that he has to stick around however long you want him to but his cold demeanour makes your thoughts appear silly, even to yourself. You are clearly looking for something more, much more than he wants to give you. You know he would probably burn the world for you, not because he loves you but because he is a loyal person and probably because he pities you.

Just a little bit. And you accept that. — Seungcheol's place is a canvas of grey and black and white. It is minimalistic and clean, a one bedroom apartment on the tenth floor in a quieter part of the city. As he walks you through his humble abode, he gives directions on where everything is and finally opens the door to his bedroom, leading you in before announcing. "You take the bed. I'll sleep on the sofa."

You do not protest because you know he would never listen. Instead, you almost ask him to share the bed with you but prevent going with it because you cannot trust yourself to remain professional while he sleeps so close to you with that tempting body of his.

"I'll leave you to rest. I'm going for a grocery run. Do not open the door for anyone but me. If there is any problem, call me." He uses his no nonsense tone and you fight the urge to roll your eyes.

"Okay, okay." You watch him leave before shutting the bedroom door and sitting down on the floor, letting out a deep breath, one you've been unconsciously holding for a while.

As you watch the orange sky from the large window of Seungcheol's bedroom, the events of the last forty eight hours wash over you. You can't help but admire yourself at how calm you are. You woke up feeling numb today and you've been functioning on autopilot the whole day. Seeing your place ransacked did evoke some emotion within you but then again, deep down you were expecting something like this to happen once you had the evidence.

You're running on pure adrenaline and you know you cannot stop until you have put your dear uncle behind bars.

And maybe, even your father.

He's an accomplice, no? He knows very well who killed his wife yet he decides to keep quiet, which makes him more vile to you. You find more hatred towards your father brimming within you, than towards your uncle. Yes, you expected him to play unfair but your own father knowing the culprit of your mother's death and simply burying it under the rug? That, you absolutely cannot tolerate.

A number of different scenarios run through your head on how you can bring them down. Despite having this irresistible urge to just run to the police with the recorder, you remember your lawyer's words.

It won't be enough.

A few documents and a tape of confession are not enough to bring a man like Jin down. He has very strong connections with law enforcement and an even stronger set of lawyers. You need a solid witness. You need to catch him red handed. You need to create a scandal he can't recover from. You need to gather more proof. Proof so irrefutable, that his entire empire comes crashing down.

And good for you, your uncle has already started setting up his doom. Trashing your place was his first mistake, the first piece of the domino. Now, it is a matter of time until everything collapses. You pray he will keep on making more mistakes.

In fact, you know he will. He will do anything to get his hands on the evidence and you will stack all his actions against him at court. And when the time comes for the nail to hit the head…

You're going to be the bait. —

Somewhere in the middle of the night, you wake up from your sleep. Falling asleep came to you easily after eating the dinner Seungcheol cooked and then curling up in his bed where the sheets smelled subtly like him. It led you to have the best sleep you had in a while but now that you are awake, there is an itch in your throat, making it dry.

So, quietly, you get up from bed and walk to the kitchen, a small light in the hallway guiding you to find a glass and pour yourself some water.

As you sit on one of the breakfast stools and gulp it down, you watch Seungcheol sleeping on the sofa. The blanket that was probably on top of him once has fallen on the floor, the small space clearly not sufficient for his large frame as almost half of his body hangs out of the sofa. You almost feel bad for him and wonder how he can sleep in such a tiny space but it is pointless to feel guilty. He would never take the bed, no matter how much you offered.

As you take the last few sips of your water, you catch the moonlight draping over half of his face, casting it in an ethereal glow. It's stunning how beautiful he is. His usual stoic face is now relaxed, his full brows not knotted in a frown, his long eyelashes resting against his cheek, his plump full lips parted just a tiny bit.

Unashamedly, for the nth time, you find yourself wondering how it'd be like to kiss him. You can't remember the last time a man made you feel like this, if ever. Your relationship with him should be strictly professional yet as you spend more time with him your mind keeps on entering forbidden territories. Which is sad because you know he feels nowhere near that for you. Maybe he even has a girlfriend, or a wife— though you see no ring in his finger. Maybe a divorced wife with whom he parted ways begrudgingly, someone who still haunts his dreams.

As you conjure up various scenarios of his relationship status, Seungcheol stirs in his sleep before a quiet groan escapes his lips.

You crane your head to take a better look at him, to see if he's awake but you soon realise he isn't as another pained groan leaves his lips, his large body shuffling in the congested space.

Is he having a nightmare?

You immediately get up and dash towards him, turning a light on the way and kneeling right beside the sofa. There's a light sheen of sweat coating his face and his eyebrows are marred in a frown as his eyes remain squeezed shut, his body writhing desperately "Seungcheol? Seungcheol!" You yell, grabbing his shoulders and trying your best to shake him out of whatever that's haunting him.

"No! No! Please, no!" The pain and helplessness in his voice halts your breath as you continue to shake him awake while his hands come to grab your arms in a tight hold, almost like an anchor. His grip only grows stronger as he yells in protest and you try your very best to wake him up once more. "Seungcheol! Please! Wake up! It's a nightmare!"

A set of blown out pupils look at you the next moment, and in a moment of silence a small shaky breath leaving his lips before they part slightly in shock. Then, before you know it, you are falling on your ass as Seungcheol shoves you away and scrambles to the farthest corner of the sofa.

Even though your ass hurts, you know it was an unintended reaction. You whisper in a voice so soft as if you're talking to a wounded animal, "Seungcheol, it's okay. You're safe. You were having a nightmare."

The man sits still, hugging his knees as he still tries to catch his breath, a horrified look on his face. Not being able to bear it anymore, you immediately move to him and even though he flinches and tries to move away at first, he gives in when you wrap your arms around his shoulders.

Soon he's burying his face on your neck as his large body curls around you, his hands gripping your night shirt tightly as if he's trying to mould himself into you. You feel his harsh pants on your shoulder so you try your best to soothe him, rubbing his back in repeated motions while whispering words of solace.

"It's alright, Seungcheol. I'm here. I have got you. It was just a bad dream."

You don't know how long you hold him like that but it seems to be a while, which feels too soon to you because Seungcheol pulls away from your arms before scooting away, putting a little distance between the two of you. He doesn't meet your eyes as he sighs, annoyed and dejected, while rubbing his temples. "Are you okay? Would you like some water?" You offer. He shakes his head, looking down, his usual stoic mask settling back onto his face.

"Why are you up?" He asks, his tone somewhat snappy. You frown. "I got out of bed to get a glass of water. You were having a nightmare, Seungcheol. Are you sure—"

"It's fine. It happens."

You are stunned at his lack of care. Is this a daily occurrence? Does he wake up every night, alone and screaming from his nightmares? Why is he allowing this to happen? Does he have someone to talk to? You want to ask all these questions but then decide against it due to the situation. Instead, you shuffle a little closer to him and start fixing his messy hair with a soft touch.

Seungcheol completely freezes at first and you expect him to bat your hand away but he doesn't. So you bite your lip to hide your smile as you finish fixing his hair before wiping the sweat off his brow.

But you don't get to go far with that because Seungcheol grabs your wrist in a gentle hold, stopping you. His eyes scan over the length of your arms before he meets your eye. "Are you okay? I hurt you, didn't I?"

You simply shake your head and offer him a small smile which doesn't seem to convince him. His brows frown once again as you see him start overthinking so you put a stop to them. "I'm fine, Seungcheol, really. If you should be worried about anything, it is yourself. You're not on duty right now, you know. You can relax. I'm not a priority now." His eyes bore into yours and for a moment you see something foreign in his eyes. Something akin to vulnerability, longing, maybe even desperation.

"Go back to sleep, ____." His voice is gruff. "You've had a long day."

You want to protest but decided not to as huff out a breath and cast one more longing glance at him, hoping that maybe he would change his mind, before retreating to your room.

— It's ten o'clock when you wake up.

Your first thought is that you are late for work, which makes you sit right up, ready to bolt out of bed but the next moment you realise it's a Saturday. And you are not at home. You are at Seungcheol's place.

So you take your sweet time leaving the bed and freshening up, shuffling through Seungcheol's products in the bathroom. You also sneak in a sniff of his aftershave and cologne, smiling at yourself at your perverseness.

When you step out of your room, you find Seungcheol sitting on one of the breakfast stools, going through some documents with rapt attention. You stand by your door frame for a while, admiring his built frame from behind, his large back muscles and shoulders stretched beneath a white tee but you don't get to stare at him too long because his head turns around and catches you in the act.

"Good morning, _____." He greets.

You clear your throat, shuffling to the kitchen counter and pour yourself a glass of water, pretending as if he didn't just catch you eye fucking him. "Good morning, Seungcheol." Your voice is soft.

"Would you like to have breakfast now? I can make you some toast and omelette." He kindly offers. "There's also cereal if you want."

"I think I'll go with the cereal," You murmur, taking a seat opposite to him. You haven't had much of an appetite for the past few days which isn't really a surprise considering the situation. Seungcheol goes back to scanning the documents in front of him while you sit in silence, sipping your water. You wonder wether you should bring up last night, maybe ask him if he's okay now but you have a suspicion it won't be received well by him. As you chew on your lip and debate the idea, Seungcheol looks up to meet your eyes, his face ever so serious.

"You have to take a break from work for a few days." He announces.

"What? Why?"

Probably for the first time, you see him hesitate which stresses you out. "What's wrong, Seungcheol? Tell me."

"You have received a few death threats, _____. I found them in your mail. For the time being, you need to lay low, appearing in public puts you at risk. In fact, we're leaving for a safe house today."

"Wait- what?" Your brain is trying hard to catch up. "Safe house? What are you talking about? I'm not safe here?"

"They know your address, _____. It won't take them long to get mine. I need to get you to an untraceable place."

You don't know what to feel or even how to react. You're at a loss as you try to figure out your next move. "What do those threats say exactly? Can I see them?"

Seungcheol's face hardens. "No. They're not pretty to look at." His voice brings shivers down your spine as a wave of nausea hits you. You had no idea your uncle could stoop so low. But then again, he's a murderer so you shouldn't have underestimated him.

Seungcheol must have seen your face pale because he calls your name firmly, grounding your attention to him. "You are safe with me, _____. You just have to trust me, okay?" You find comfort in his eyes so you find yourself nodding immediately which satisfies him. "Get ready. We'll leave in two hours."

"Where are we going?"

"Don't worry about that."

"Does my father know?"

"About the death threats? Yes. He didn't seem too concerned about it though. Said it might be a prank."

Somehow, you're not surprised.

"But not about moving you to a safe location," Seungcheol adds. "No one needs to know about that. It's safer that way."

"Even my brother?"

"Yes. I suggest you call him and tell him you'll be out of reach for a while."

You deflate at that. Chan is going to be worried. And how on earth are you going to explain everything to him when all of this eventually unveils?

Seungcheol gets up, gathering all the papers and just as he turns to leave, he stops. "Oh, and ____? Don't come near me when I'm having a nightmare next time."

What?

"But Seungcheol—"

"For your own safety, _____. Don't. This is not a request." He doesn't wait for your reply but marches away as you silently watch his retreating form, lips pursed in annoyance.

The little appetite you had for breakfast is ruined as you go back to your room, cursing his stubbornness. As you pick up your phone to check for any important messages, a text from your dear father greets you. Your bodyguard told me you received death threats. Maybe it is better for you to stay at home and not work. For your own good, you should seriously consider giving your position to someone else. His flagrant attitude makes your blood boil as you fist your hands around your phone in a death grip before tossing it onto the bed in a fit of rage.

This day has not started off well.

— Two hours later you are well on your way to the safe house with a bag packed containing your absolute necessities. Your bodyguard has confiscated your real phone and gave you a burner instead just to be cautious.

Seungcheol, as always, drives the car in silence, the features of his face set to a grim expression. The air is thick with tension and you debate putting the radio on but even doing that feels too awkward.

"How long is the drive?" You finally ask, desperate to lessen this weird tension.

"We're taking a train from the station."

"Wait, what?"

"It is quite far. Driving there is going to take way too long." He calmly replies, eyes focused on the road. Sighing, you lean back and rest your head against the headrest. You let your eyes wander outside the window, watching the people, the view passing by while your mind runs rampant with all kinds of thoughts; anxious, restless.

A while later, you take notice of something in the rearview mirror and finally voice out the concern that has been bugging you for a while. "Seungcheol?" There's a touch of panic in your voice.

"Yes?"

"See that black Mercedes? It has been following us for a while…I think." You stare eagerly at Seungcheol waiting for his reply, waiting to be told that you are wrong but instead, a small, amused smile graces his lips.

"So you noticed, huh?"

It feels like your heart is going to drop out of your ass.

"What do we do?" You whisper, sitting up straight and craning your head back to take a proper look at the car. Sure enough, the SUV is right behind you, not even trying to be discreet anymore.

Fuck this crap, seriously.

"Trust me, I have got a plan. You just need to do as I tell you, okay?" He assures, his voice composed unlike yours.

"O-okay."

He turns to face you for a beat, giving you a reassuring look before continuing to drive in silence for a couple more minutes while the Mercedes stays on your tail. "Hold tight. I'm going to speed up. There's a parking lot about a mile from here. We're going to stop there."

"WHAT!"

You don't get your reply because the next second, the car is zooming forward as Seungcheol steps on the accelerator. You are gripping the dashboard and your seatbelt with your dear life as Seungcheol speeds through the lane like a madman, swerving every now and then. The Mercedes chasing you has a hard time keeping up with Seungcheol's viciously smooth driving because in a moment's time you are in the parking lot where Seungcheol parks the car in the corner farthest from the entry.

"Listen to me very carefully, ____." Seungcheol says as he turns the engine off and removes his seatbelt. "Crawl to the back and lay low, okay? No matter what happens, what you see, you do not make a move until I come get you, do you hear me?"

Your throat feels like sandpaper as you whisper. "Y-yes. Yes I do."

"Good." He squeezes your hand. "Now crawl into the back."

You do as you are told, moving into the backseat and crouching down as Seungcheol exits the car before locking it. You peek through the tinted window, watching with bated breath as the black SUV pulls up and two bald headed men exit the vehicle which parks right by the entry. They walk to Seungcheol, their stances predatory as they talk about something you cannot hear.

Next thing you know, one of the men is throwing an uppercut towards Seungcheol which fails to land because your bodyguard steps back, avoiding it easily.

Then, a full on fight ensues as the two men attack Seungcheol unsparingly. Seungcheol does not fail to keep up as he easily avoids them and counterattacks. Very soon, he is landing a kick on one of the men that throws him down to the ground with a harsh blow before grabbing the other guy and holding him in a chokehold. Soon, his body slumps to the ground.

Is he dead?

The other guy, meanwhile, recovers and charges for Seungcheol and you notice a bit too late that he has a knife because he manages to land a slash on Seungcheol's chest, making him stumble back. "Seungcheol!" Your hand unconsciously reaches for the door handle, tugging it to get out and help him. Alas, you can't do that. Fortunately, though, Seungcheol seems to not require any help as in the very next moment Seungcheol attacks the man, snatches the knife from him and bashes his head against the trunk of a car once, twice, thrice, making him fall into the ground, unconscious.

The breath you were holding finally escapes your lungs. Seungcheol dashes to the car the next moment, opening the back door and dragging you out by the arm before you can even say something.

"Come on. We don't have time."

"Wait, where are we going?"

"There's a five minute shortcut to the station from here," he says, leading you by holding your hand as his legs pick up speed. "We have to run because they are expecting us to move by car. Come on!"

And so, you let him guide the way, his hand holding yours tightly, as you take the underground exit of the lot. You run for your life, your legs going sore but you manage to keep going just because of the adrenaline. Soon enough, the station comes into view and Seungcheol picks up speed as the whistle of the train echoes through the air, informing its departure.

"Oh crap, we're not gonna make it!" You yell. "We will. Just keep running," Seungcheol hollers back as you both run parallel to the train that is slowly picking up speed. Suddenly Seungcheol lets go of your hand which throws you into a moment of panic but you keep running as you start to guess his plan.

You watch as he bolts for the entrance of the last carriage and in the blink of an eye, jumps inside.

"Holy shit." You curse. The next moment, he turns around and leans out the door, holding out one of his hands for you to grab onto while the other grips the handle by the door. "Come on! Grab my hand!"

Your legs are so tired they feel shaky, ready to collapse any moment. Still, you run with all your might, holding out your hand, reaching for his.

"Just a little bit! You can do it!" He encourages as the rhythm of the wheels intensifies, letting you know you do not have much time.

Oh shit.

Grunting in frustration, you put all the bridling remnants of your energy and dart forward which seems to be just enough, as your hand touches Seungcheol's. The next moment he grabs onto your hand and in the blink of an eye he is tugging your full weight and pulling you inside the carriage.

Upon entering, you collapse on the floor, panting loudly as Seungcheol lets go of your hand and cranes his neck out the door as if looking for something. Even though you are wheezing for air, you follow his line of sight and see two men running after the train as if they were chasing you. By now the train is moving at full speed, crossing the end of the platform, making them slow down and watch helplessly. "Who…are…they?" You choke between breaths.

"Your uncle's men." Seungcheol replies nonchalantly as he shuts the door and kneels next to you.

"How long have they been following us?"

"After we got to the station."

"Why didn't you say anything!"

"I didn't want to scare you." He replies, his hand wrapping around your shoulder. "Don't talk, just breathe. You did well."

You don't know if it is the intensity of the situation or the adrenaline crash or his words that make you slump in his arms, your body resting against his as you catch your breath. The feeling of his warmth against your body is something you are extremely grateful for at the moment.

"Please tell me you have tickets." You pant, resting your head against his shoulder.

"Of course. First class." _____ Five hours later, you are at your destination.

It is a cabin in a small town full of greenery and old architecture. It is very picturesque, located in between a vast area of mountains, somewhere you'd come to spend the summer with your family maybe. Even though your situation is the farthest thing from a vacation, it doesn't stop you from admiring the beauty before your eyes.

"The place is very beautiful, Seungcheol." You admire the surroundings as well as the cabin.

It's somewhat isolated from the town, shrouded by the forest, as the nearest market from here is about ten minutes drive.

"Thank you, my grandfather made it. He left it for me." He provides as he carries your small bag from the car he borrowed from a friend here and unlocks the door with a key.

"We should do something about your cut." You mention worriedly, crossing the threshold as you see him slightly wince while moving. The bleeding seems to have stopped after he put some pressure in the wound but it still needs to be cleaned.

Hearing your words, he looks down to see the wound before shrugging, "It's fine. The bleeding has stopped."

You expected him to say something like that so you take matters in your own hands. "Is there a first aid kit here?" You ask as you pad to the bathroom, looking around carefully and sure enough, inside the cabinets under the sink, there's a first aid box. Seungcheol murmurs grumbles of protest as you come back to the living area and ask for him to sit on the spot next to you on the couch. Thankfully he listens to you. As he unbuttons his shirt, you disinfect your hands while trying your best not to peek at the delicious row of abs that comes into display. As his wound comes into view you cannot help but wince at the sight, which doesn't go unnoticed by your bodyguard. His hand immediately reaches to take the cotton swab from your hand, murmuring. "I can do it myself."

You tsk in disapproval, sending him your best scolding glare before resting one of your hands on his shoulder for support and gently swiping on the wound with the swab dipped in antiseptic with your dominant hand. Seungcheol sits still all through it while you hold your breath, channelling all your focus on the task at hand.

It is scary; being this close to him and for some reason the act of cleaning up a cut is turned into something way too intimate by your brain. So, you don't dare to look in his eyes, afraid of what you'll see in them but terrified of what they will make you feel; something you can not resist or put a lid on, like the urge to cup his cheeks and kiss those irresistible lips.

You must be swiping at his wound with your face mere inches away from touching his chest for way too long because one of Seungcheol's hands comes to grab your wrist, stopping your movements. "I think that's enough," His voice holds the aloofness that you are used to which makes you sigh.

"Does it hurt? Do you want a painkiller?" You still find yourself asking.

Seungcheol frowns. "No, ____. I'm fine. It's just a cut, I won't die."

"Still—"

"Maybe you should focus on yourself. You have had a long day—"

"Why do you always do this!" It takes a few moments for you to realise you are yelling. You stand on your feet, hands fisted at your sides as the first aid kit falls on the floor from your lap, spilling its contents all over.

"What do you mean?" He asks and you absolutely loathe how his voice never changes, laced with that touch of monotony and indifference.

"Ugh, Seungcheol! Why do you always push me away! I want to help you! I'm just trying to take care of you!" This, however, seems to evoke an emotion from him because he is immediately on his feet, glaring at you, his large body towering over you.

"It is not your job to take care of me! If anyone here is going to take care of someone, it will be me making sure you are alive, is that clear?"

"I'm just trying to help you yet you keep pushing me away—"

"I do not need your help!" His voice is a roar of thunder, making you gasp as you take a step back. You've never seen him like this nor did you imagine someone so unbothered and composed had a side like this. "Who are you, huh? Why do you keep stepping over the line? Did I ask for your fucking help? I'm the last person you should be worried about, Ms Lee, you understand that?"

By now, angry tears have gathered in your eyes. Not wanting to cry in front of him you bite your lips and push past him as you run towards your room. "Fuck you, Choi Seungcheol!" —

You spend a long time in your room, crying and cursing him out before eventually falling asleep out of exhaustion.

When you are awake from your slumber, the clock reads 2 in the morning. Disoriented and irritated and hungry, the first thing you do after emptying your bladder is go hunt for something to eat. Even though you intended to avoid Seungcheol, it is impossible not to come across him as he sleeps on the couch in the living room, this one thankfully big enough for him to comfortably lie.

There's a small lamp in the corner of the room and the light from there is falling on one side of his face, highlighting his cheekbones.

You stand still for a moment to make sure that he's actually asleep, before tiptoeing to the kitchen. Pouring yourself a glass of water and you think of something easy to make that will not wake up the moody bastard in the next room.

However, you don't get too far with that thought because a moment later, you hear an all familiar groan float through the quiet air of the night. It is Seungcheol. And he's having a nightmare. Once again. It's like deja vu.

All his commands of not helping him fly out the window as you run to the living room. Before you can reach there, however, you hear a crash and upon entering you see Seungcheol, wide awake and sitting on the floor on his hands and knees, his entire frame shaking violently as he keeps uttering something under his breath, still stuck in his nightmare.

Your heart drops when you see the glass showpiece on the centre table shattered on the floor, along with the pillows and blanket that were previously on the couch. "Seungcheol!" You yell as you rush to him, carefully avoiding the broken shards of glass and sitting on your knees next to him as you try to get him out of his head and focus on you. His blown out pupils meet yours as his hands shake and his breath comes out in struggling pants.

He's having a panic attack.

"Seungcheol!" you call for him, trying your best to keep your voice stable which proves to be hard as your heart breaks for the man, hating seeing him in this state.

"Look at me. Listen to my voice. Breathe. Breathe with me. Look at me. Breathe, just breathe, you're going to be fine."

And so for the next few minutes, you try your best to calm the agitated man down, holding his body next to yours as you run your hands along his back, up and down, up and down.

You realise he's back to normal when the shuddering stops and his body remains immoblie next to you, as if he has fallen asleep. You know otherwise because when you pull back to take a look at his face, you find his eyes open, that familiar, empty and aloof gaze replacing the panicked ones. His lips are set to a thin line and you feel his whole body stiffen next to yours and just like you know he is back to normal.

This time, you do not ask him if he's okay or if he wants anything. Instead you get up from the floor quietly and go to the kitchen where you quickly make him a warm cup of tea.

When you return, he's still on the floor, sitting with his back against the sofa, hands resting on his knees as his head hangs low. Silently, you walk over and sit next to him before extending the steaming mug towards him.

You hold your breath, waiting for him to reject it and start spewing mean words at you but you are to be amazed.

Surprising you, he does none of those things but accepts the mug and takes a small sip. A tiny smile of victory graces your lips as you settle your gaze forward to the empty wall and sit in silence next to him.

As the steam gradually disappears from the mug and his dejected posture becomes tense and uptight, you know he's about to tell you off. Your guess turns out to be correct because just a moment later, he sets his mug down on the floor and turns to face you. His voice is stoic when he speaks, "I clearly told you not to—"

"Do you want to talk about it?" You interrupt him with a soft voice. He appears stunned as his mouth opens to say something but closes back to a tight line.

"I used to have nightmares as well, after the accident." You whisper, leaning back to the sofa, your unfocused gaze settled on the walls of the cabin as your mind disappears in the depths of the memories of those gruesome nights.

"I'd wake up screaming and crying. Every damn time I'd see the crash so vividly and the moments before it, my mom's desperate eyes at mine, her fading words, telling me to hold on, telling me that she loves me..." You lose your voice with a choke as tears blind your vision. A hand comes to rest on your shoulder gently and gives you a reassuring squeeze. It takes a few moments for your brain to process that it's Seungcheol and you are pleasantly surprised.

Your eyes search for him, and his face is solemn, his eyes showing just a reflection of kindness and sympathy. With a sad smile, you wipe the tears threatening to fall from your eyes. "It was horrible at the beginning when I couldn't speak. I'd wake up distressed and not finding my voice would make it even worse. For the first two months, Chan stayed with me every night. He'd try his best to calm me down but every night I'd be just as scared to go to bed."

"Eventually, the nightmares didn't come as often. Especially after I realised I could speak again and I was remembering bits and pieces of the accident and my suspicion was growing. I haven't had any nightmares for a while now but I remember how they made me feel. How awfully...real they felt." You sigh, shuddering at the thought.

A few moments of silence pass by as Seungcheol's hand drops from your shoulder. You don't expect him to spill his heart out but you are grateful that he didn't push you away and listened to you and comforted you. It is more than you ever thought you could get from him. Having this simple, somewhat bitter moment of intimacy is enough to soothe your love starved heart. However, you realise it's a night full of surprises when Seungcheol starts speaking. "I was in the military, as you know. I joined when I was eighteen. I lost my parents the year before so it was just me and my grandfather." His voice is quiet as he fixes his eyes out the window, looking at the dark night sky.

You follow his gaze and make a quick observation that there are no stars tonight, just an empty, dark sky, before setting your gaze on Seungcheol's face.

"My grandfather served in the military during the early years of his life and I wanted to follow his footsteps. The first few years were tough but good. I enjoyed them as they kept me busy and focused. During my fifth year in the military, my grandfather passed away peacefully in his sleep. I was on break at that time so I was there with him in his last moments. However, it still broke me. Sending him off was one of the hardest things I had ever done."

He pauses, making you hold your breath and anticipate his next words. His expression is unreadable, his sharp gaze focused outside when he continues. "I returned to the military a different man. My life as a soldier became everything to me. I worked ten times harder than anyone else as the military turned into my entire life. I jumped through the ranks very quickly and went on various missions as a SEAL. All of them were dangerous but successful as I led my teams out safely each time. Until Sudan."

There is another heavy pause as you feel the air thicken with tension. You know the worst part is about to begin and as you observe his gaze become more and more unfocused, you can't help but dread whatever is coming next. "It was a humanitarian mission. Me and my team were tasked to rescue some families from a group of local terrorists. They were held inside a camp in the middle of the desert. The infiltration was successful. But, just as we were escaping, the terrorists found out and came at us with double manpower. They had a couple of high powered explosives which we were unprepared for because they were not supposed to have such weapons."

"As my team and I were exchanging fire against them, a bomb went off right next to me. It is the last thing I remember before waking up in a hospital bed a week later."

"The explosion fucked up left leg. I needed three surgeries and months of rehabilitation. But that wasn't the worst part. The worst part is that it cost three of my teammates their lives."

Oh Seungcheol. Tears are beading down your eyes as you let his words soak into you.

"It happened almost six years ago but it still haunts me. How I fucked up. How I killed them." "Seungcheol, no!" You scold, your voice not as powerful as you'd like it to be as it breaks mid way. "You did not kill them, you hear me? It was an accident. A horrible one but it was not your fault in any way. They died honourably and think of all the others you saved, all the times you led your team out of harm successfully. Think about all the lives you have saved, all the people you have helped." Your grip is strong on his forearms as you turn him to face you fully. His eyes meet you; bleak and hopeless and the urge to wipe away all his pain soars within you. It's a shame you can't do that so you do the next best thing you can think of.

You pull him in a tight hug. You wrap yourself around him, resting your chin over his shoulder as you close your eyes and hold him tight, the act a bit hard due his huge build. For several long moments he doesn't hug you back until you finally feel his warm hands creep on your back as he rests his face against your neck, cocooning your body with his.

You swallow a sob and blink furiously to drive away the tears, your hands stroking his hair in gentle motions. "It's alright, Cheol. You are going to be just fine. It is all going to be okay."

His response is to hold you tighter and you welcome his vulnerability, his pain and agony with open arms, breathing it in as if it is your own. Long moments are spent as you two remain in each other's embrace until you finally sit back to take a look at him.

"Maybe you should talk to a therapist?"

"I did," he sighs, running a hand through his soft locks. "After the accident, I saw one for almost a year. I was prescribed so many medicines and I almost got addicted to them even though they weren't doing much to help. So I decided to quit altogether and moved here, in his cabin. I stayed here for about six months, trying to pull myself together before an old friend of mine called, asking if I wanted to join his private security company. I agreed because I couldn't live in solitude any longer without killing myself and now, I'm here." You nod, watching him intently as you two sit with mere inches of space between each other's faces. In the back of your mind, you realize that this is the most intimate you have been with Seungcheol and probably you will ever get to be so you can't help but speak the next words. "You are so beautiful, Seungcheol. Inside and out. You are such an amazing person.I only wish you would know that." Your words can barely be heard because you speak so softly but it contains emotions from the deepest, rawest part of your heart. Sitting with him on the floor, in the middle of the night at a cabin in the woods, talking about your deepest traumas and secrets is something you never thought you would experience but now you realise, it is a treasure, a moment of profoundness that you will carry close to your heart for the rest of your life.

Seungcheol's eyes widen for a fraction upon hearing your words before he shifts, trying to pull away from you but your strong grip on his hands stops him. Once again, you find yourself confessing. "Ever since you've come to my life, I feel hopeful, even though we are going through so much trouble. I want to live again and I feel happy and hopeful when I look at you. And I can never thank you enough for that."

Seungcheol's Adams apple bobs as he swallows and the expression on his face is so vivid you realize you have left him speechless. A small, shy smile sets on your lips as you squeeze his hands softly, your thumb stroking over his bruised knuckles. While your mind swoons over how tender this moment is and how beautiful he looks and how soft his lips appear, he inches his face closer to you before pressing his lips against yours.

At first, you believe it's a dream.

It is bound to be, no?

Blinking multiple times, you make sure that it in fact is not a dream but it seems to take too long because Seungcheol is pulling away from you, the apology right there at the tip of his tongue. However, you do not let him speak the words he doesn't mean. Instead, you do what you have only done in your late night fantasies, you cup his cheeks and pull his face down to yours, meeting his lips in a fierce kiss. You do not even think of holding back, pouring every bit of passion and need and admiration for him into it.

Thankfully, he reciprocates, cupping your neck and jaw, tilting your face for better access.

And it's wonderland. It is everything you imagined and more, everything you want and need, everything that can heal you.

In the rosy haze of desire and desperation, your hungry hands travel down to the hem of his white t-shirt, tugging on it in a futile attempt to get it off. The action gets the attention of Seungcheol as he dettaches his lips from yours, taking a look at your face.

"_____—" he makes a weak attempt to stop you but his words die on his tongue as you hastily stand up, dragging him with him. Pressing a soft finger on his lips, you shush him as you bring your face closer to him and whisper in his ear. "Don't push me away Seungcheol, please. I need you. And you need me too."

There is a battle in his gaze as he stares at your longing visage for a moment with a clenched jaw before muttering a curse underneath his breath. The next moment, you are being carried to your bedroom and in the blink of an eye, you are standing in front of your bed with his frame towering over you.

"You wanted this?" He teases but his eyes are lit with a fire that is inextinguishable as he takes off his shirt and even in the dimly lit room, you do not miss the carved perfection of his body, littered with scars here and there. In vain hope, you pray that your face isn't visible as you ogle him but you know it is because his unrelenting stare breaks your skin into goosebumps.

As you are stuck in a trance of lust, he takes a step closer to you before his breath grazes your ear. "Lift your hands, angel."

The next moment, he pulls your nightshirt off your body, leaving you only in your sleeping shorts. He wastes no time, attacking them right next as they come off with a tug and you fall into your bed. You have no time to overthink or feel shy because Seungcheol cages your body underneath his as he crawls to you, a dark look of hunger on his face.

"You are a fucking temptress, you know that?" He grunts, a calloused thumb reaching out to stroke your cheek. You lean into his touch, eyes falling closed at the contact as a soft sigh escapes your lips but the next moment Seungcheol is grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you in for a heated kiss.

It's all teeth and tongue as he devours your mouth, two tongues entangled in a fierce rhythm of tango before finally letting you gasp for air. "Crawl up," his voice is that of a quiet command which you follow instantly, letting him sit comfortably on his knees as he spreads your legs wide.

The very next moment a squeak leaves your mouth as Seungcheol pushes his index finger inside you, your wetness granting easy access. He makes a noise, something akin to an animalistic groan as his digit easily slips inside.

"Fuck, you're so wet for me," he murmurs as he inserts another finger and then another before curling them inside you.

"Seungcheol!" You yell, grabbing the sheets as your hips lift off the mattress due to the electrifying jolt of pleasure. Your reaction makes him grunt as he fastens his face and you feel your legs tremble, making you think that you are going to come already.

Your core tightens around his fingers as more wetness leaks from you, only amplified when he brushes his thumb against your clit. Another gasp and a shudder of your body makes Seungcheol smirk as he whispers, "Gonna come, angel?"

You nod your head aggressively, your hips chasing his fingers in their own rhythm and just as the tingles of your release soars in your body, Seungcheol removes his fingers.

"No!" Your protest is immediate but the man only gives you a cruel smile as he makes a show of licking his fingers clean. The act itself is extremely hot and you cannot help but release another groan of frustration.

"Seungcheol! Please let me—"

"You are gonna lie back and let me eat your pussy now, hmm? After I'm satisfied, I will let you come." He announces, lips hovering over your thighs, the touch of his warm breath giving your goosebumps. The low gravel of his voice paired with the way he keeps looking at you from between your thighs makes you swallow thickly before lying your head back into the pillow, a shuddering breath leaving your lips.

"Good girl."

Good girl.

Your core clenches deliciously. However, you do not get to soak in the warmth of his praise because the next moment he flicks your clit with his tongue and your scream pierces the night air. Your body writhes while he holds your thighs open in a strong grip, incoherent gasps and curses of pleasure falling from your lips. Seungcheol is like a man starved, as he eats you out mercilessly, his tongue going deep inside your most intimate parts. You can't remain still, tears of pleasure stinging your eyes as your body shakes and pleas fall from your lips.

"Oh f-fuck! Seungcheol! Please!"

You yourself do not know what you are begging for. It's the sweetest torture, one you want to end but also continue forever.

Your release has wet your inner thighs and paired with Seungcheol's saliva they drip down to your asshole but Seungcheol doesn't stop. He brings his attention to your hard, swollen clit now which he flicks repeatedly with his tongue.

"Fuck! I can't! Please let me come!" You are convinced your voice can be heard from miles away. "You wanna come?" He grunts between breaths, voice muffled.

"Yes, yes! Please!"

"Then come. Come for me, my angel." The command has your toes curling as he gives a harsh suck to your clit and in an instant, you go off like a firework. The heated coil in your belly snaps as your body twitches, sending you headfirst into an orgasm so good, so deep, tears drip down your eyes. All through it, Seungcheol keeps sucking your pussy, almost making you numb before stopping with a final, sloppy kiss on your clit and sitting back.

Even in the darkness, you see his lips shine with your release.

"You are an aphrodisiac, angel." His words caress your skin as he leans forward and presses soft, tantalising kisses on your jaw and down your throat.

"Please, fuck me now," your voice is a cry of plea as you chase his lips for a kiss. He entertains you, tangling your mouths in an embrace of passion as you taste yourself on his tongue. One of his hands moves down amidst the kiss and your foggy brain registers that he's taking off his sweatpants.

With a soft groan he takes off his lips from yours and frees himself from your entangled limbs, standing up to kick his boxers and sweatpants down his legs.

And oh dear lord is he a view. You admire him in his nakedness in the half lit room, drinking every inch of him. You can't stray your eyes from his cock, hard and leaking as you gulp and send a prayer to the sky, marvelling at his size.

Seungcheol crawls back into the bed, his movements akin to the grace of a panther, his eyes lit with ferocity and huger as he pins both your wrists over your head with one hand.

"I'm going to fuck you so good you will be ruined for any other man." He promises, giving you a delicious shiver on your spine. You want to scream that you don't need any other man, you never will but the thought dies in your mind when you feel his tip prodding at your core. He slides in easily, almost embarrassingly easy as your sopping cunt welcomes him with wide open arms. A guttural groan escapes from his throat as he buries his head in the crook of your neck, spewing curses. The sound makes you clench around him which makes him curse again.

"You are so fucking tight, fuck!"

You can only respond in an incoherent hum as he starts moving inside you, making you throw your head back and let out a loud moan. He raises his head to look at you and your eyes contact and in a second, everything becomes more intense. The look in his eyes is ever captivating and ruthless while he pistons in and out of you tirelessly, hitting that sensitive spot inside you perfectly each time.

"You're going to be the death of me." He whispers, almost as if he's talking to himself. His mouth works on your jaw, moving down to your throat and sucking harshly on the soft flesh, making you shudder in pleasure. "Seungcheol!" You cry. "Harder! Please!"

"Any harder and I'll come right now."

"Do it! Come inside me!" All other thoughts and worries have left your mind and beg him for more, already cock drunk.

"Fuck, you sure?"

"I'm on pills, Cheol. I'm sure," you pant, clutching onto his back as he increases his pace, leaning back to sit on his knees as his hands move to your waist, holding you in a bruising grip.

"Gonna fill you up then, angel. Make this pussy bleed my come." He promises with a snark, his eyes trained on your face as he delivers one particular thrust that has you arching off the bed and seeing stars.

Then there is a brush of touch on your hard clit and a quiet command of coming which has fireworks exploding all throughout your body. You cry out, from pleasure and pain so addictive that white spots dance in your vision, hands twisting the fabric of the bedsheet so hard it would be no surprise if they tore. The next moment you feel Seungcheol release inside you and the feeling of his warm cum coating your insides gives your body another round of shivers as you completely blank out. You are transported to a hazy place where you feel like you are floating through the air as you lose all sense of connection from this world.

It takes a while for you to recover and once you do, you realise Seungcheol has slumped over next to you as his breathing gradually returns to normal. You turn your head slightly to look at him and just as your eyes meet, he makes a move to get up. Your hand immediately latches onto his arm. "Don't go." You croak.

"I need to clean you up." His voice is quiet.

"Later." You whisper, begging with your eyes. "Just lay with me for a while." He remains still for a moment, probably battling with himself before lying back next to you. He stretches one of his arms and you quickly use it as a pillow, shuffling closer to his body and resting your palm on his chest. Seungcheol tenses next to you but you don't let it get to you as your hand gently strokes an old scar right beneath his chest. Just as you are almost falling asleep, you feel his hand wrap around your waist, holding you softly and a smile graces your lips.

I love you, Choi Seungcheol.

— The next morning, Seungcheol starts avoiding you like you are the plague. As soon as you step out of your bedroom, Seungcheol, who was sitting in the living area quite literally bolts outside with his laptop and everything, throwing a curt good morning to you and not even sparing a glance.

You are hurt, to say the least. While a silly part of you expected that maybe you would wake up with him in the same bed and have breakfast together before some more lovemaking, the realistic part of you did not expect him to act like this.

Like nothing happened.

Or worse, acting like what happened was a mistake.

Does he really think that last night was a mistake?

It hurts to even think that he might believe that so you push that thought away with all your might. Instead, you focus on making yourself a nice breakfast before soaking in the tub for a while as you try to focus all your attention on plotting your uncles demise.

Once you are nice and clean after the soak, you find Seungcheol in the kitchen, drinking something from his mug as he talks over the phone with someone. You wait for him to finish, using the spare time to admire how good he looks— slightly messy hair, an old grey t-shirt and grey sweatpants. Once again, your mind travels to how good he railed you last night but before it can travel too far, you shake yourself back to the present.

"I need to talk to you." You announce as soon as he sets his phone down. Seungcheol's head snaps up to your voice and a grim expression settles on his face before he murmurs.

"There's nothing to talk about. Last night was an accident. We were both vulnerable and it just... happened." It's like someone ripped your beating heart off of your chest or dumped you into a bucket of ice or better yet, did that together. Yet it still wouldn't hurt as much as his words pierce through you right now, leaving you utterly speechless as you just blink repeatedly, trying to make sure you heard that right. "It was not an accident, Seungcheol. You know it." Your voice is deathly quiet and you can feel yourself on the precipice of snapping.

"The hell it wasn't, _____." He snaps. "I am your fucking bodyguard and you are my client. I am not getting paid to take advantage of you!"

"Take advantage of me?" You seethe as an overwhelming urge to punch something, like his face, overcomes you. You have to take a deep breath in to form the next words. "I am not some helpless, pathetic girl that you can take advantage of. Whatever happened last night was real and with our consent. The man last night was the real you, the one you keep hiding, not this!" Seungcheol clenches his jaw, running a frustrated hand through his hair. "Either way, it should not have happened. We, you and me—" he points between the two of you. "It does not work. It won't."

"Seungcheol— "

"That's enough _______."

"No, tell me. Enlighten me, please," Your voice drips with sarcasm as you take a step towards him, crossing your hands in front of your chest. "Why do we not work? What delightful, eye opening information has been revealed upon you which led you to this wise conclusion?" The twitch in his jaw clearly tells you that he does not appreciate your sarcasm but you've had enough of his stubbornness, especially when it is clear that he wants you as well.

"So far, I'll I've heard is that I can't have you not, I don't want you. Quit playing games with yourself Seungcheol!"

"I am a fucking loose grenade!" His scream is abrupt, making you jolt. The veins in his neck pop out as he steps back, his frantic eyes glaring at you. "I cannot keep you safe! Not from myself. I am a man whose past haunts him. I can't fucking sleep at night without getting nightmares and smashing things! I cannot pass a day without the guilt of my past following me! I am headed towards hell and I cannot drag you down with me. I am not the man for you, _____, try to understand!"

"I think that's for me to decide, no?" You take another step towards him, trying to calm him down.

"No!" He yells, stepping back. "Enough! Just— enough. This conversation is over. I'm going out and when I return, we will pretend that none of this ever happened."

"You fucking asshole!" You normally do not curse. Out loud at least. Your mother had a strict rule of no bad language and you and your brother followed that rule to a t. No matter what you have encountered so far in your life, nothing gave you the urge to curse half as much as you want to right now.

"That's right. I am an asshole." He states calmly, sparing you a blank look before turning and heading for the main door.

"You fucking son of a bitch! I did not want to talk about this in the first place! When I said I need to talk with you, I meant about my uncle, you idiot!"

He stops in his tracks before slowly turning his head to look at you. "What about him?" His calmness makes you absolutely livid and even though you try your hardest to form words, the only thing your tongue seems to want to utter are curse words.

"It doesn't concern you anymore, asswipe." Seungcheol's lips form a thin line as he watches you quietly for a few moments.

"Do not do anything stupid,_____." He has the nerve to order you before marching out of the house, slamming the door loudly behind him.

"Go to hell, dickhead!" —

The rest of the day is uneventful as you two mind your own business, avidly avoiding each other. After Seungcheol leaves and blesses you with solitude you pace around the house angrily before going for a walk in the forest behind the cabin.

It is not dense or uncomfortable as a walking trek has been premade and you take a long walk which helps you clear your head just a bit. It takes your mind off of your stubborn bodyguard and back onto your uncle as you think of ways to trap him in a position he cannot easily get out of, as early as possible. With the plan you have in mind, it proves to be a bit hard, because you are staying in the middle of nowhere and your uncle has no clue where you are.

You walk home an hour later with a less obscure mind and send Chan a text through the burner phone, letting him know that you are alive and well.

Your brother video calls you soon after and you almost forget that you are supposed to be mute at the joy of seeing your brother. It kills you that you have to lie to him but you bite your teeth and do it, telling him that work got too overwhelming and you are taking some days off and promise him of your quick return. You know your brother is not stupid and he has started doubting you but he is kind enough not to push you for more, which you are grateful for.

Seungcheol returns home a little after noon with more supplies. You act like he does not exist as you finish your lunch and retire to your room where you spend the rest of the day, lying in your bed and staring at the ceiling, thinking about everything and nothing. As the skies bleed to dark, dinner time rolls around and you two eat separately. Once again, Seungcheol makes no attempt to talk to you or acknowledge you just like you are doing but it still infuriates you, which you try to control by doing copious amounts of yoga in your room, before finally falling asleep quite late.

However, disaster strikes with the arrival of dawn, as the first rays of sun kiss the sky.

You are snapped out of sleep as you open your eyes and find Seungcheol hovering over you, shaking you awake.

"Wake up, _____! Your uncle is here. He found us!"

Immediately you bolt upright, half thinking that all this is a vivid dream. As your panicked eyes meet his, your shaky hands clutching his biceps and you whisper. "W-what? How? I- I don't understand."

"I don't know either." Seungcheol grunts, craning his neck to look out the window. "There are two jeeps heading towards us. You need to get out."

As if on cue, you hear the loud roar of the engines as they come to a stop right in front of the cabin. Seungcheol helps your shaky form out of bed and ushers you down the stairs.

"Take the back exit. Hide in the forest until I come for you. If I don't, call Jihoon for help. His number is here. And take this." he explains, handing his burner phone and a gun to you but your brain is stuck in a loop, not processing that there is a fucking gun in your hand.

"What do you mean if I don't? You are coming with me—"

"No. I will hold them off while you escape. Go, now." He orders, pushing you towards the back door of the kitchen.

"_____! I know you're in there! Come out while I am being nice and maybe we can come to an agreement! You do not want to end up like your mother, do you now?" Your body freezes as you hear your uncle yell from the front door. The anger evoked from his words makes you want to stay and confront him but Seungcheol keeps pushing you, telling you to run.

And so, sparing one last longing look at Seungcheol, you tuck your weapon in your waist and run. You have not gotten even fifty feet away from the cabin when the first round of shots echo through the air. Your blood freezes as you come to a halt, turning your head around to look at the cabin as gunshots echo through the air.

You have to swallow a lump in your throat as tears gather in your eyes, the temptation to go back increasing. But you know going back is not a good idea because it will put Seungcheol's life at risk, more than it already is. So you keep moving deeper into the forest, the treks familiar because you have been here before and you make your way through very easily. When you come across a small cliff shrouded by thick bushes you decide to hide there, waiting to see if your uncle's men come around here. Confirming your guess, they do, after a while as they jog through, looking around for you. However, they fail to estimate your hiding place and continue deeper into the forest down the trek and just then, an idea forms in your head.

You have to go back.

The universe is on your side because you realise after some peeking around and shuffling through trees that there is another road that you can use to go back to the cabin. This one is definitely unused and riskier but you are determined to make this work. So, with a deep breath you jog through the narrow, muddy lane and soon enough, you find your way back.

The cabin is now quiet, eerily so.

The back door remains open, granting you access and you carefully step one foot in, holding your breath.

It is a mess; bullet holes scattered around, a few bodies slumped on the ground, specks of blood all over the floor. The scene is bone chilling and you have to take several deep breaths to calm down. You can hear noises coming from somewhere in the house, grunts and yells, as if people are fighting, which is what is undoubtedly happening. No matter how severe your urge is to follow the sound and make sure Seungcheol is okay, you decide against it, putting faith in his capabilities instead and sending a prayer out to heaven. Careful not to step on any blood, you make your way through the mess and gingerly climb up the stairs, pausing to make sure no one is around. The coast is clear, thankfully, as no one is upstairs and you head straight for the little storeroom next to the bedroom, where you kept the very little belongings you brought with you.

You took special care to hide your prized possession, the evidence file. It stays secure inside a special compartment Seungcheol showed you that is situated under the wooden floor. Quickly removing the carpet, you open the hatch and look inside to make sure the files are there.

And they are, thankfully. Picking them up, you hold them to your chest and close the hatch, putting everything in its place while holding your breath through all of it. In the next second, the voice you dreaded echoes through the air.

"I believe I am going to need that, _____."

You whip your head back to see your dear uncle standing at the door frame, lips twisted in a diabolic smirk like he got you just where he wanted to. "I knew you would lead me to the evidence, niece. I just had to wait. And I knew you would contact your dear little brother no matter what so I put a little tracker on his phone and it led me here. Easy, no?" He shakes his head, laughing cockily at his plan.

Your blood runs cold as your fingers grip the envelope tightly.

"Over my dead body." You hiss.

"Oh yeah, and my men told me you could speak?" He taunts, shaking his head some more. "Can you imagine my surprise when I heard that? Tell me, were you faking it all along? To what, get some pity points?"

"You will rot in jail, asshole. I will personally see to it." You seethe, clutching the folder tighter against your chest. Your uncle's face loses its amusement as he stares at you for a while, cold and unblinking before reaching back and pulling out a gun. Your heart skips a beat as he points it right at you.

"The file, ______. I am not here to play games."

"Never." There is an immediate deafening noise of gunfire, making you squeeze your eyes shut and for a horrible moment, you think he has shot you. Opening your eyes, you see there's a hole in the roof where he has aimed his gun before pointing it back at you.

"Don't make me kill you like your mother. I need you alive for all the other plans I have."

"She was your sister in law!" You cry.

"She was a thorn in my way!" He seethes. "A conniving bitch trying to take the company from me and my son! Always challenging me! Always speaking against me!"

"It was never yours to begin with, you ugly old man! She knew you would steal it from us!"

"I dare you to speak one more word and the next bullet will be in your hand and the one after that will be in your leg. I won't do the mercy of killing you, _____. I will put you through hell on earth before I grant you the freedom of death." He sneers, eyes fueled with hatred. You swallow, your breath coming out in heavy pants as you decide on what to do next.

Finally, with a defeated sigh you raise your arms in surrender and take a small, tiny step towards him, trying to appear as meek and harmless as possible. "You could have not killed her. You could have sent her away if she was a problem." You whisper, voice cracking. "Huh," he scoffs. "As if that bitch would listen. The only way was to get rid of her. For good. I knew she would be in the car with you that day and I planned to kill two birds with one stone but alas, that didn't happen" He shrugs, pouting. "It's alright, though. I know how to use it in my favour. I have so many plans for you. You're gonna come with me and sign off—"

"Drop the gun, Jin."

Seungcheol!

It is Seungcheol, pointing his Glock at the back of Jin's head as he appears behind him all of a sudden. You are flooded with gratitude so big tears come to your eyes and hope flares in your chest seeing him alive, hurt and dishevelled but alive. However, your hope is quick to die down when Jin speaks the next words.

"You sure you wanna do that, son?" Your uncle remains unaffected as he slightly turns his head, his words directed to Seungcheol. "You pull the trigger and by the time it has hit me I can pull the trigger as well and her brains will be splattered all over these walls. You don't want that, do you? Besides, I know as a matter of fact your boss here wants me alive. She has grand plans for me, is that not right, _____?"

His eyes pan back to you, the evilest of smiles on his face as you grit your teeth, trying to keep yourself from doing anything rash.

You underestimated your uncle for sure.

"Drop the gun, son. I won't say it again." He orders, taking a menacing step towards you. "You drop it and nobody gets hurt. I need this bitch alive for everything I have planned." Seungcheol's eyes meet yours and the helplessness and frustration is visible in them. You watch with bated breath as he slowly points the gun away from Jin's head and sets it down on the ground, raising his hands in surrender. A satisfied smile sets on your uncle's face and he lets his guard down for a moment, a fraction of a second, which Seungcheol takes advantage of. In the blink of an eye, Seungcheol jumps on him, grabbing his legs and dragging him down onto the floor. His grip on the gun falters, letting it fall on the floor and as he makes a move to reach for it, Seungcheol kicks it to the farthest corner of the room.

A scuffle between them ensues and Seungcheol tries to overpower Jin and pin him down onto the floor. However, your uncle, the master of playing dirty, manages to pull a switchblade from his pocket and slashes Seungcheol on the arm, making him fall off of him. "I'm gonna fucking gut you, you son of a bitch!" He yells, charging for Seungcheol as he pins him down, aiming the blade towards his throat but Seungcheol stops him with a practised move. An intense battle of power ensues but you've had enough as you reach for the gun Seungcheol gave you, tucked at your waistband.

Pointing it straight at Jin's head, you yell. "Drop the knife, Jin! I really don't want to kill you!"

"You don't have the balls to shoot me, bitch!" He yells back, not even glancing at you, busy subduing Seungcheol as he stabs him in the shoulder. That motherfucker!

He underestimated you greatly.

Furious, you pull the trigger and the bullet lands right where you aimed it, Jin's knee. With a howl of pain, he falls off of Seungcheol who quickly gets back up and wraps an arm around his throat in a chokehold.

"You filthy little bitch! You fucking —"

Seungcheol tightens the grip on his neck and after struggling for a few moments, Jin passes out, making you sigh in relief as you step back and lean against the wall. "You shot him." Seungcheol's voice is laced with bewilderment as he watches you with a look of surprise and admiration. "Self defence," you shrug, closing your eyes and inhaling a deep breath. "Tie him up. I'll call the police."

— Fifteen minutes later the cops arrive with blaring sirens followed by an ambulance.

As soon as the ambulance comes to a stop, you are dragging Seungcheol towards it, yelling at the staff to get a look at his shoulder, around which you have wrapped a cloth to lessen the bleeding. As a responder attends to Seungcheol's injury, two policemen rush into the house when you tell them that the culprit is tied up inside.

You stand out front with your arms crossed, the morning sun now high in the sky, the warm rays caressing your face as you watch your uncle being dragged out of the house and into one of the police cars. He is yelling and cursing his complaints, his eyes filled with hatred as they come in contact with yours.

Your body goes rigid, the revelation coming upon you that he is done for and he knows it. You know he is definitely going to deny everything but he has another surprise coming his way.

An officer comes to you, talking about the next procedures and asking basic questions but you cannot quite register his words as your body finally gets off the high of adrenaline and realisation hits you like a bulldozer, it's over.

It is over. You got him.

I got him, Mom. I will make him pay.

Seungcheol, who sits at the back of the ambulance while a nurse gives his shoulder a temporary fix, listens to the officer carefully, answering his questions in your place before thanking him as he takes his leave.

"Are you okay?" Seungcheol's uninjured hand comes up to gently touch your arm, making you jump as you are snapped out of your reverie.

"Would you like me to look at you, ma'am? The responder offers as she takes off her gloves. "You look pale." You shake your head, swallowing as you wrap your arms around yourself. Seungcheol gives your hand a tug, making you sit next to him. "Please take a look at her." He says to the nurse, who nods while he shrugs off the blanket sitting on his shoulder and wraps it around yours with his free hand.

"Breathe, _____." He speaks softly, his hand holding yours. You nod, focusing on your breath for the next few minutes as the nurse does a quick check up on you. There are a lot of unshed tears within you and a lot of emotions you need to let out but you just cannot bring yourself to do that right now. There is this numb feeling all over you accompanied by an overwhelmingness.

And you know very well the war isn't over just yet. You have to make sure your uncle ends up behind bars. Even though you have some control over your emotions right now, you remember that you have to explain every hideous detail to Chan and you know will break down then. You know you will break down again when you visit your mother's grave but you know this time, you will feel less guilty of being the only one surviving, less in agony because you have avenged her.

"I have called my lawyer. He's preparing all the documents. We should head home now." You speak, eyes staring at the sun shining over the hills and the lush greenery.

This place is magical. You want to come here again, someday.

"Okay," Seungcheol agrees as his hand comes to rest over yours and he gives you a reassuring squeeze. Your eyes pan back to his face, littered with cuts before settling on his shoulder. You open your mouth to scold him for getting hurt when he sighs. "What were you thinking, _____? I told you not to come back to the cabin. Your uncle had you just where he wanted. You could have been seriously hu—

"I had a plan, Seungcheol."

"What plan?" He looks annoyed. A soft smile graces your lips as your hand travels to the front pocket of your shirt. You pick the pen sitting there and hand it to Seungcheol with a mischievous smile. Frowning, he examines the item carefully until it dawns on him as his eyes widen. "This has a camera!"

"Yep! It can record audio and video very clearly. I had it on me for a while and as I was hiding in the forest I suddenly realised that I couldn't get better proof against my uncle than right then. So I went back to be the bait."

"Still, you don't realise how risky—"

"Trust me, I do. But I had no option. Besides, my gut told me that my uncle really didn't want to kill me unless he had to because after everything that happened, I was more valuable to him alive than dead." Seungcheol stares at you, all a loss for words before shaking his head in disbelief.

"Wanna know something more fun?"

"What?" He is wary. "The documents I hid? They are not the real ones!" You cannot hold back a laugh as Seungcheol looks as you, more perplexed than before.

"I mean, come on! I'm not that stupid! I wouldn't carry them with me knowing my uncle is looking for them! I hid the original files in Chan's safe after I had him promise me not to touch them."

"Wow…" Seungcheol shakes his head in utter disbelief as he tries to wrap his head around everything. "Still, if I hadn't come for you on time…"

"I knew you would, Seungcheol. I believed that deep in my heart." You whisper, fingers lacing with his as your eyes meet. Seungcheol swallows and looks away, blinking. With a soft sigh, you stand up. "Are you sure you can travel this long in the car? Should I call in a helicopter for you?" Seungcheol rolls his eyes, standing up as well. "It's a fucking graze, _____. I have had way worse and I survived. I will be fine. I already feel fine." Your eyes narrow at him and you want to reprimand him but you cannot find it in your heart to do so. With a sigh, you usher him towards the car. "Let's go then. I'll drive."

— The next 48 hours pass by in the blink of an eye as you go through the most hectic time of your life.

The first thing you do upon entering the city is sit down with your lawyer for a detailed discussion on the next steps you are going to take and hand the video recording to him. After that you ask Chan to come over to your place where you explain everything to him from a to z. It proves to be one of the worst moments of your life as you watch your brother's face pale with every word you utter and by the time you finish explaining everything he goes as still as a statue before abruptly taking his leave.

The next day you are asked to give a statement to the police along with Seungcheol which takes quite a while as you explain everything in detail. During that time the news breaks about your uncle getting arrested and charged for both murder and attempted murder leading to a flock of reporters chasing you down wherever you go.

The stocks of the company are also affected as a side effect of the scandal and you have to spend a good amount of time in the office as you try to reassure everyone and get everything under control with your business partners.

On the third day after Jin's arrest, the police officially read out all the charges against him and announce the dates of the trials which sends the press into a second round of frenzy as they try to get your opinion on it, mobbing you whenever you step outside.

Your father is also taken in for questioning where he, thankfully, admits to his crimes and then he is also arrested with the charge of withholding information. He claims that his brother was blackmailing him so he had to keep the murder a secret. Whatever his reason was, you do not care anymore.

You refrain from engaging with the press as much as possible, other than the press conference arranged by your company that you had to attend but you do not make any comments about your uncle or father, just announcing that they will be punished accordingly and you and your brother will do your utmost best to protect the company.

Amid all of this, Seungcheol refuses to leave your side, even with his injured shoulder.

The wound was not deep but he was advised not to move the shoulder too much, an instruction he didn't pay any heed to when he was protecting you from the fleet of reporters. Taking it a step further than that, he called his friend over from the agency, the man called Jihoon, to be your second bodyguard because he believed that he was not functioning at his best.

Overall, it turns out to be a crazy, sleep deprived but exciting few days as you see all the pieces of the puzzle fall into its rightful place.

What is not exciting, however, is the straining relationship between you and your brother. After your confession to everything, he grows quieter and avoids talking with you unless it's absolutely necessary, which you understand and respect. He is processing the murder of his mother and his family members' participation in it and you also understand he feels betrayed because you kept so much information from him.

Still, it hurts.

This is why it is a surprise when you see him walk through the double doors to your office on a weekday morning as you were going through the legal statements of the company. "Chan!" You gasp, rising from your chair, eyes wide open in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

He gives a half hearted shrug before sitting down on the couch by the floor to ceiling windows, his gaze focused on the skyline. "I had some things to tell you." Okay... You chew on your lip as you walk over to him and take a seat in front of him. You watch your brother stare off into the distance out the window before he finally heaves a long sigh and looks at you. The sadness and exhaustion are clear in his eyes and it breaks your heart. This whole media circus has not been easy for him either, especially because he knew nothing of what was going on and the press attacked him like a bunch of piranhas.

"The week has been crazy for you." He states, matter of factly.

You give him a small, sad smile. "Same goes for you."

"Yes. I am feeling a lot of emotions together however..." he stops for a second before boring his gaze at your eyes. "I cannot help but feel betrayed."

"Oh Chan—"

"No, it's okay." He holds up his hand, stopping you. "I know that was not your intention and it is not your fault. It is none of our fault. I feel betrayed by this... family, this situation. I feel so angry that all of this happened right under my nose and I—" he huffs, dragging a hand through his hair as his voice fades. "I knew nothing about it."

"It is not your fault."

"It kind of is." He grunts. "I...I should have been more careful, more aware—"

"You couldn't have prevented it, Chan. It would only get you hurt in the process."

"Exactly! It would and that's how it should be. We're a team, you and I. So I should be equally responsible but only you got hurt in this process. You have been carrying all this burden with you since the accident. Not to mention the crazy stunt at the cabin. Are you insane, _____? I saw the video and he had a gun for fucks sake!"

"So did I!" You admonish. "Besides, he wasn't going to shoot me."

"You couldn't be sure!"

You drag out a sigh in surrender as you admire your brother for a silent moment as he suddenly reminds you of Seungcheol. "Whatever it was, it's in the past and I am safe now. However, I am sorry. For lying to you, for keeping you in the dark."

"Yes, I am actually quite mad at you for acting mute in front of me." He narrows his gaze at your face.

"Well at least you learned sign language because of it!"

He snorts and you chuckle, a more comfortable silence falling between the two of you as you stare at each other for a while with melancholic smile on your faces. After a while, he announces, "I am going away for a while."

"What? Where?" You gasp.

"I don't know where, actually. Somewhere with a beach and lots of sunshine maybe. Away from…here." He smiles faintly. "I just...I need to be away for a while and process everything and simply be in my own company. I just need some time, sis." Tears shine in your eyes. "I understand." You whisper. You really do but it still pains you because you feel responsible for breaking his heart.

"Take all the time you need. I'll handle the business while you are gone."

"Good. I know you will manage it well, maybe even better than me," he gives you a smile, a real one that reflects the shine in his eyes and you mirror it back. He stands up, buttoning his suit jacket. "Oh, by the way, what is going on between you and your hunk of a bodyguard?"

"Hm? What do you mean?" You feign innocence, avoiding his gaze, surprised at his observation. "Oh please." He gives you an it-is-very-obvious look. "The chemistry between you two has been explosive from day one. You always have that dreamy look in your eyes when you look at him."

"I do not!" You gasp. "Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night." He shakes his head in mirth. You huff out a dejected breath of surrender. "It doesn't matter anyway. He doesn't want me."

"Should I beat him up?" He asks casually, making you snort.

"You would lose, you know." You roll your eyes. That makes him laugh before he takes a step towards you. "I would deprive you of a hug but since you are already heartbroken, come here."

You immediately get up and wrap your arms around your brother in a tight hug. You sniff, holding back tears as he pats you in the back, and you whisper. "I will miss you. Text me every now and then."

"Will do," he promises with a smile, pulling back and squeezing your shoulder. As he starts walking, he yells over his shoulder, "Do not think of getting married to that hunk while I'm not here though!"

"Yes, sir!" Rolling your eyes, you yell back and watch him walk out the double doors before plopping back on the couch, an eerie feeling of emptiness settling in your chest.

It takes a while for you to realise that tears are streaming down your face. Upon realisation, you simply hang your head low, letting them flow and stare at the floor, vision blurry as you play back the events of the last 6 months in your head.

A soft knock at the door makes you snap your head up, breaking your trance as you quickly swipe your fingers below your eyes, head turning to see who enters.

It's Seungcheol, composed in poise and grace as he steps inside before coming to a stand beside you. Silently, he asks for permission to sit, something you have told him multiple times not to do and when you give him a nod he takes a seat opposite to you. "You have been crying," he states quietly as he regards you with a knotted brow. You sigh and blink a couple of times before asking. "I'm fine now. What's the update? Any problems?"

He shakes his head. "Things are under good so far. You still need to give a formal statement at the fundraisers event next week, so you have to prepare for that."

"Hmm," you nod. "What brings you here, then? Are you feeling okay? I told you to take a day..." Your voice fades as you watch him produce a white rectangular envelope from his pocket and push it towards you on the table.

You have a sinking feeling in your chest that it is a resignation letter.

"I am submitting my letter of resignation." He says, as calmly as ever, his eyes straight on yours. Your mouth opens but fails to deliver the words as you tilt your head to the side, processing this action.

You have no problem with him resigning. In fact, you had planned to fire him after this hellish week ends so that you two could have a discussion about where your relationship stands, without all these professional restrictions limiting you. However, knowing Seungcheol, you have a sinking suspicion that he isn't quitting so that he can address his feelings for you but so that he can escape.

Still, you decide to feign ignorance.

"Good. I was planning on firing you anyway. Not that you were bad at your job, you were the best but you need to rest, Seungcheol. And I have Jihoon now so I'll be fine." You nod as you pretend to go through his letter but inside, your hearts thuds so loudly you are afraid it will burst.

"As of today, I am relieving you of your duties, Choi Seungcheol." You offer him a shaky smile. Seungcheol nods, his face as impassive as ever and you just cannot tell if he is heartbroken or relieved. His body language tells you that he is ready to get up and leave but you do not let that happen so easily.

"Now we can finally talk about our relationship." You speak, trying to keep your voice as stable as possible. Seungcheol visibly tenses as his face loses some of its colour and immediately you know this is not going to end well.

But you are adamant on seeing this through.

"There is nothing to talk about." His voice is quiet, almost inaudible as he sits there looking like a petulant child lying to his parents. You have to take a deep breath to compose yourself.

"You can do many things, Seungcheol but you cannot lie to me." You keep your voice as gentle as you can.

Your ex bodyguard seems to agree as he lets out a dejected sigh and stares at the floor very attentively. You watch him with intent for a few long moments, giving him time but ultimately when he remains as stubborn and unmoving as a mule, you break the silence.

"I will lay all my cards on the table, Seungcheol, since you can't seem to do that. I have feelings for you, Seungcheol. Feelings that are very, very deep and real and I'm willing to act on them. Do what is necessary to make this work— make us work."

He is quick to disagree. "Those feelings that you talk about, they are not love, ____. It is temporary. The last few weeks have been intense and it's just your body's natural reaction —"

"Do you love me, Choi Seungcheol?" You interrupt him, looking him straight in the eye. The man looks like he swallowed a sock and you would feel bad for him, maybe even laugh at his reaction if the situation was not so dire.

"It does not matter." He looks away. You have the urge to hurl something at his head; the lamp next to you seems very tempting, but you fight it by clenching your fists a few times, trying to put yourself in his shoes.

"Seungcheol, I heard you that day in the cabin. I hear you now and I completely understand your fears. But I am here and we will work through them. It will take time but I'm ready, no matter how long it takes. I just want you, Seungcheol, and it kills me because I know you want me too yet you keep punishing yourself."

By now you have learned to read the man well and what might be easily overlooked by others comes into your notice; like how he clenches his fists and how his Adams apple bobs as he heavily swallows. The look in his eyes is that of a pure battle, one that he is fighting against himself and it's hard to watch. You are about to stand up and hold his hand when he suddenly moves onto his feet, his posture rigid as he glares down at you.

"I do not want you. What happened at the cabin was a mere moment of weakness. And you don't want me either, ______. You will soon realize it."

This gaslighting asshole!

"So you are going to lie to yourself till the very end?" You hiss, standing up and stepping closer to him, meeting his eyes with an equal glare. "If anyone is lying to themselves here, it is you." He spits. "Our relationship was supposed to be professional from the start. I am a bodyguard and you are merely one of my protectees. Let us end it that way." He takes a step back while you watch him with a flabbergasted expression at his audacity. He uses your moment of weakness to say. "It was nice working with you. Hopefully, you won't need me again. Goodbye, Ms. Lee." The next moment he is pushing past you as his footsteps echo on the cold marble floor, the sound similar to that of your heart as it cracks.

"If you walk away now, I will never forgive you, Seungcheol!" You yell, voice cracking as tears gather in your eyes, your gaze focused outside the window, your back facing him. No reaction comes from behind you except for the footsteps which come to a halt.

"Do you really want to end it like this?" Your whisper is followed by silence but through the eerie quietness in the room, you know the words reach him well.

His reply comes a few seconds later, in the form of footsteps that echo farther and farther away from you followed by the sound of the door opening and then closing and then utter silence. —

The fundraiser's event is going in full swing, bustling with people when you arrive. Draped in a red silk dress and diamond jewellery you look like a million bucks but in reality you feel nothing like that and you have no desire to be here whatsoever. But you know it is necessary to make an appearance as the host because it is extremely important to show up after the scandal to assure everyone that things are going well. Except they are not. While your professional life has slowly started getting back to its normal place your personal life has plummeted because all that you have done in the past week is mope around and curse your ex bodyguard and bitch about him to your current one, Jihoon.

The best way you can describe Jihoon is a grumpy cat. He talks very little but whenever he does, he's always huffing and complaining. But you see his softer side peek through from the little acts he does for you like making sure you eat your meals properly, checking up on you after your crying session and preparing all your documents and briefing you every morning. His tsundere antics and his silent company have probably been the only driving force that has kept you sane after Seungcheol dumped you.

The event is taking place in a banquet hall in the city centre and once inside, Jihoon guides you to a private resting room where you get ready for the opening speech. "I don't think I will stay till dinner. It is okay I leave after the speech, no?" You ask Jihoon as you finish revising the script. "Maybe mingle with people a little bit. Behave like a human instead of a broken hearted ghost" he offers, his tone dry as usual. You sigh and shake your head at his reply as you smooth your dress and step forward, waiting for the emcee to call you on stage.

Once on stage, you stand behind the podium, the tireless flashes from the cameras giving you a headache and you have to try your very best to plaster a smile on your face as you greet the guests and start your speech. Jihoon stands a few feet away from you on the stage, his eyes scanning the crowd carefully as he receives constant updates in his Bluetooth. However, not even two minutes into your speech, a man causes commotion as he tries to get on the stage, yelling some nonsense about how you are a fraud and a money launderer. You are baffled as you watch the security planted at the perimeter of the stage get a hold of him and drag him out while whispers and murmurs echo among the guests.

"He looks drunk," Jihoon says as he steps close to you to make sure you are alright. "Ignore him. He shouldn't have been allowed inside. I will have a talk with—" He pauses midway in his sentence as his eyes focus on something behind you, on the other side of the stage, his pupils widening. You can barely process the change in his expression before he tugs you away and shields you with his body as you two roll off the stage.

The next moment, an explosion echoes through the air. There is a ringing in your ears as Jihoon covers you, the echoes of the blast intensifying the headache you already had. You feel disoriented as Jihoon helps you to stand up and ushers you towards the resting room backstage while you hear screams echoing from the guests, their heavy footsteps scattering all over. "Wha- what is going on?" You cry, confused as Jihoon shoves you inside the room. "It is your cousin, Jun." What!

"Lock the door. His men have blocked the exits. I need to clear them before I come get you. Do not open this door, is that clear?" He orders you and before you can form a reply, he is gone. Confused, scared and exhausted, you fall onto the ground, head in your hands as you fail to wrap your head around the situation. Of course, you knew your cousin was sour after his father's arrest but you never thought he would go this far. What is he thinking? What does he want?

You hear commotion spread outside, things crashing and even a few gunshots. As you step closer to the door to get a better listen there is a loud bang, as if someone is trying to break in.

Absolutely terrified, you step back, frantic eyes looking around the small space for a weapon.

If you knew the night would end up like this you would have brought a fucking gun with you.

Speaking of guns, a gunshot echoes through the air, making you duck your head as you scream. Another gunshot rings through the air and you realise whoever is on the other side is trying to come inside.

You can only pray it is not your fucking cousin, who is a maniac, apparently.

A broad, mean looking thug bursts through the door just as it opens and when his eyes land on you, he points his gun at your head. "Do not think of doing anything smart, woman. If you don't want me to blow your face off, you do as I fucking tell you to." Swallowing, you nod, holding your hands up in surrender.

So this is how it goes down, huh.

The man produces a handcuff from his pocket and tosses it towards you. "Put it on your hands! Now!" With shaky hands, you pick it up and just as you are about to fasten it around one of your wrists, there is a gunshot. You are sure you have been shot as you shut your eyes tight but start to think otherwise when seconds pass and you still feel your heartbeat.

Peeking open one eye you see the thug slumped over on the floor, a clean bullet hole on the back of his head. And in the doorframe, stands Seungcheol, a gun in his hand.

Choi Seungcheol.

Wait, what? How?

Your brain is struggling to catch up as you blink again and again to make sure of his presence. Indeed, he stands there, dressed in a black suit and tie, specks of red on his white shirt as he pants heavily.

What on god's green earth—

"Come on, you need to get out!" He yells, stepping inside the room, reaching for your hand and dragging you outside with him. You cannot get a word out as you let him lead you, absolutely thunderstruck because of his sudden presence.

What the fuck is he doing here? How did he even know what was going on?

You are so baffled that you cannot speak these thoughts out, simply following him as he carefully guides you towards the exit, his gun drawn in alertness. Just as the backyard of the venue comes into view and Seungcheol is about to usher you outside, you hear a voice yelling from the other side of the hall.

It is your cousin's voice. "Let me go you fucking assholes! I am gonna blow that bitch myself! I am gonna tear her up into fucking pieces! How dare she take what is mine! That's slut! I am gonna…"

Seungcheol almost pushes you to move as you get stuck in a trance of his mean words. "It is okay, Jihoon has him. Come on."

As if you are functioning on autopilot, you let him guide you outside into the open field and underneath a small sitting area where fresh air finally hits you, letting you breathe in a lungful. Seungcheol informs the other security about the update over his comms as you watch him in silence. When he is done, his eyes finally meet yours and in an instant everything that had gone down in the last month flashes through your head, giving you goosebumps.

There is a moment of silence as you watch him with a blank expression while he looks around uncomfortably. Finally, he decides to break the silence with a chuckle. "I leave you for a few days and this is what happens?"

His tone is full of amusement. The nerve of this man. You, however, find none of this amusing. It gets your blood boiling as you hear him say the words, your brain finally registering everything and you simply cannot hold yourself back anymore. The next thing you do is strike a clean, sharp slap on his cheek which catches him off guard as he stumbles a few steps back. His eyes widen in shock, his hand moving to cup the cheek which is turning bright red, like your palm.

You poured your heart and soul and all your pent up emotions into that slap so you pray it stings like a bitch.

Your hand does for sure.

"I deserved that-" Seungcheol starts to speak, holding up his hands but the moment he opens his mouth you are on him again as you grab him by the collars, triggered, "How dare you come here, you scum!" You hiss, tugging at the fabric of his collars while a bewildered Seungcheol tries to gently pry you off of him. "How dare you have the audacity to show up after everything you said?"

"_____, you are gonna hurt yourself—"

"You quit! You made it clear that you had no interest in me, Seungcheol! So what gives you the right to come here and save me, huh?" You are seething, emotions so strong you feel like choking and if you were a cartoon character, visible steam would be coming out of your ears.

"_____, please—"

"Who gave you the right to be a hero, huh? What made you come here? Tell me! Talk, you asshole!" You yell, shaking him, tugging on his collars repeatedly as a wild rage takes over you.

You are going to murder him.

"Because I am in love with you!" He yells back, making your grip falter for a second which he uses to quickly free himself, taking a few steps back as you stare wide eyed at him, panting.

When you finally get enough air in your lungs and process his words, really process them, your wry laugh echoes through the cold night air like mockery. "Fuck you, Seungcheol. I have had enough of your bullshit." You spit, pushed to your limits.

God, give me patience.

"I know," he whispers, taking a step closer while you take one back. "I understand what I have done and I do not expect you to forgive me at all. I just need you to know that I fucking love you and I am so fucking sorry. I know I am late but I am here to stay—"

"No you are not," You snap. "Get the hell away from me before I take a gun and fucking shoot you."

"If that's what will make you happy..." Seungcheol calmly reaches for his gun as you watch him, alarmed. He takes it off of the holster and holds it out towards you. "Shoot me as many times as you want. I deserve it.

This fucking man—

"Guys, can we do this weird foreplay somewhere else," Jihoon yells from behind you as you spin to see him jogging towards you two. "You need to get out of here, _____. He's saying that there are still explosives in this compound."

"What!" You shriek but before you can get another word out, Seungcheol is grabbing your hand and dragging you with him as he starts sprinting. "Keep me updated," he addresses Jihoon who nods, talking into the comm to get a car at the rear entrance for you.

"Let go, you asshole!" You hiss, trying to pry his fingers off your wrist which proves to be a challenge while running full speed in high heels. "God damn it, Seungcheol, I will fall!" And you almost do so, as you misstep and stumble but the man is quick to catch you and before you can even think, he is throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "Put me down, you pig!"

"As soon as we get to the car, angel."

Which is quick, thankfully, because the next moment he is putting you down and holding the passenger side door open for you and despite wanting to resist him, you know the wise idea is to leave right now. As soon as you are inside the car, he shuts the door before running to the other side and before you can even put your seatbelt on, the car is moving.

"Jihoon will be fine, right?" You ask half mindedly as you turn your head back to look at the venue which gets smaller every passing second. "He will be fine," Seungcheol grunts. "The police have been informed as well as the bomb disposal team." "What about my cousin?" Seungcheol remains quiet for a moment, only staring ahead on the road. "Him? He's alive, unfortunately."

"What do you mean?" You ask warily.

"I shot him. The bullet hit his abdomen. He won't die, don't worry. That depraved asshole doesn't deserve that mercy." You sigh, rubbing your temples as you lean back into your seat. "What the hell was he thinking?"

"He wanted to hurt you, humiliate you, _____. He had plans to hurt you horribly." Seungcheol huffs out a breath, shaking his head and clenching his jaw. "He has gone insane." That is all he provides, making you fall silent for a moment. "When will this stop." You whisper to yourself. "I never considered him to be a threat."

"I should have. You locked up his father and made sure he could never take over the company. He was a huge threat that I failed to notice." He murmurs.

"Don't start, Seungcheol," you snap at him, irritated. "I'm still tempted to shoot you. Your duty was over the moment you handed in the resignation letter and walked out of my life."

"My biggest mistake." He whispers to himself but you hear it.

Tired, frustrated, scared and angry, you decide not to engage in this conversation further as you look out the window and wonder what is coming next. Another media storm for sure. More interrogations, more meetings with your lawyer. At the same time, however, the edge that you have been feeling for the last week is gone. The fact that your cousin never came up to you or tried to retaliate his father's arrest in any way made you wonder but it never occurred to you that he could turn violent, insane.

Jun was after all a puppet, who only did things after his father made the way for him his whole life.

Today was a different case, it looks like. Anyhow, it is somewhat of a win for you because you miraculously got out unscathed and the threat has been neutralised. However, you are sure many have been injured and your reputation has taken a severe hit today. The upcoming months will be very hard, harder than before…

The next coherent thought that comes upon you is that you fell asleep. You open your eyes realising that the car has stopped and the time on the dashboard says about thirty minutes have passed. Blinking, you shift in your seat and find Seungcheol, sitting next to you, watching you with a look that is foreign on his face, something close to adoration. Clearing your throat, you remove your seatbelt and sit up straight.

"How long was I asleep?"

"Not long enough. We just got here." He announces as he moves to open his door. "Come on, let's go inside."

Once you are out of the car, you realise Seungcheol has taken you to a five star hotel and seeing the confusion on your face, he explains. "It's safer here. Can't take any more risks tonight."

He casually slips his hand into yours, making you frown and drags you towards the hotel. Your tired body cannot put up much of a fight so you follow him begrudgingly and you are quickly escorted to the penthouse suite thanks to his prior booking.

Upon entering the suite you walk straight to the master bedroom where the king sized bed calls for your tired self as you sit down and take off your heels, throwing them away on the carpet over the floor with a soft thud, exhaling a loud sigh. Seungcheol follows you and remains quiet as you sit in silence at the edge of the bed, too wired, too disoriented to do anything. Normally, after everything that happened with your uncle your decision making skills have significantly sharpened but having Seungcheol near you, his stupid confession ringing in your head is fucking with your brain. And as if that goddamn man can read your mind, he kneels in front of you on the floor, one of his hands softly touching your knees as he utters. "You need to rest, ______. I will handle everything else. It is all under control now, trust me."

"Why do you do this?" You croak, pushed to the limits of exhaustion, your eyes trained somewhere in an unfocused gaze as you fidget with your hands. "Why do you push me away and then come back running at a time like this?"

He is silent for a long time while you fight to keep your tears at bay.

You will not cry in front of him.

"I am sorry." He only whispers, his fingers softly stroking your knee as his head lowers and his gaze falls down on the floor. "I was foolish and...scared. That night after we slept together you…you said out loud you loved me and I panicked. I was— I am a danger to you. But being away from you for a week was a pain unlike anything else. I went back to that cabin and I slept in your bed and the sheets had the faintest of your smell. Weirdly, your scent and everything you left behind soothed me and I didn't have any nightmares in the past week. But every morning I woke up and there was a sinking feeling in my stomach that only grew each day until I couldn't bear it. I realised that you really were an angel who saved me, brought lightness back into my life, and gave me a new purpose, a new dream. I realised what an idiot I was and I came to the city on Wednesday night. Believe me when I tell you that my intention was to just stay away and make sure you are okay. I knew what I had done and I was in no way worthy of showing up in front of you but I had to intervene tonight, _____. Your life was in danger."

The air conditioner in your room suddenly feels chillier as goosebumps prickle your skin, making you shiver. Seungcheol takes notice of it and stands up quickly to take off his jacket before draping it over your shoulders. He stands in front of you in silence, fingers hovering over your now covered shoulders while you stare at his shoes, your head going blank but also running a mile a minute. The frustration and overwhelmingness bleed together until you can't tell one emotion separate from another.

All of a sudden, Seungcheol's thumbs caress your cheeks while the rest of his fingers softly cup your jaw and it is only then that you realise you have been silently crying. He oh so gently wipes your cheek dry while uttering, "Please don't cry. I know I hurt you. I promise I will leave as soon as I make sure you are going to be okay." Instantly, a part inside your brain is flooded with panic as it screams no. You don't want him to leave when you remember how hard the past week was on you and how many times a day you would revisit that night in the cabin, the moment you two shared and how it proved to be the anchor for you throughout everything that happened after.

You were— are mad at him but you still want him near, crazy is it not?

You keep thinking of how safe you felt the moment Seungcheol found you in tonight's chaos, how just his presence made you fall asleep so easily when for the last week you could not fall asleep without the fear of nightmares.

Yes, they have returned. But you don't see the accident anymore, you see your uncle chasing you around the cabin while you call for Seungcheol but he doesn't come, no matter how much you beg.

And after tonight, you wonder what more nightmares await you. So when you utter the one, very powerful word, you tell yourself that you are doing this for yourself, to be selfish and not for him, which is not a lie entirely.

"No."

Your left hand reaches to grab the fabric of his shirt and you fist it tightly in your hand. "Don't leave." You don't dare to look at him, scared you will break once you do and instead focus your gaze on the patterns of the carpet while holding onto his shirt. The next moment Seungcheol is sitting next to you and in the moment after he gently wraps his arms around you, your head falling perfectly against his shoulder while your arms snake around his waist after a moment's hesitation.

His warm touch soothes your back as his other hand cups the back of your head, softly stroking it with his thumb. A small whimper comes from your mouth as quiet sobs escape from you and you hide your face and weep, trying to stifle the sounds.

"I am so sorry, _____. I am sorry for everything." Seungcheol whispers, voice thick with emotion. "I will make everything better, I promise. I will stay as long as you need me and then… " There is a moment of heavy pause. "When you don't, I will follow you around like a lost puppy for the rest of my life." Thinking about the rest of your life and not having Seungcheol in it makes you sob harder and if you had energy you would scream at him and tell him to just shut up. Instead, you cry, cry your heart out, promising yourself that from tomorrow you won't.

Tomorrow another battle begins.

As the night grows deeper, Seungcheol holds you tighter and your sobs gradually fade and before you know it you fall asleep on his shoulder. Seungcheol stays still for a while longer to make sure you don't wake up before gently picking up your sleeping form and setting you down on the bed, fixing the pillow underneath your head and covering you with a blanket. Despite his desire to crawl into bed and sleep next to you, he resists it and instead takes the loveseat in front of the window, where he sits and watches your peacefully sleeping form, before falling asleep himself with a heart full of gratitude.

— You watch the steam from the mug evaporate into the air before taking a small sip. The tea is slightly bitter and hot, just as you need it.

After waking up and taking a quick shower, here you sit, by the window of your penthouse suite, sipping tea, treating yourself to a quiet peaceful moment before your hectic day, which you are frankly not prepared for, begins.

You woke up to an empty suite, with no sign of Seungcheol and it almost made you wonder if last night was an entire elaborate dream. But then you found his tie lying on the loveseat which acted as a reassurance of his presence, weirdly bringing solace to you.

After waking up, you realised your phone's battery is dead, which became another source of peace for you, because you know otherwise, it would have been blowing up with calls and you wouldn't have gotten the good night's sleep that you got.

There's a sudden sound of the door opening that alerts you, making you crane your neck to see the visitor. Seungcheol walks in, dressed completely differently from last night, looking delicious in a light blue polo and white pants. On his hands are two shopping bags and behind him is a hotel staff member who pushes in a huge breakfast trolley. "Good morning, _____." Seungcheol meets your eye as he sets down the shopping bags on the edge of the bed and thanks the staff as he takes his leave. You watch Seungcheol take off the lids covering the food while speaking, "Breakfast is here. I have asked for a bit of everything you like. And I have got new clothes and some necessities for you. They are in the bag," He points to the general direction as he starts stacking pancakes on a plate for you. You are quite surprised and flattered and you cannot come up with anything else to say but, "Thank you."

For some weird reason, you feel shy and awkward around him as if you are a newborn fawn. Maybe it is because none of you are addressing the elephant in the room; last night's conversation and instead acting like you have known each other for years. "It's my pleasure," he smiles at you, a genuine smile that shows his dimples and makes your heart gallop like a horse. Handing you the plate, he takes a comfortable seat in the chair in front of you and watches you dig in, a look you can only describe as fondness sitting on his face. Feeling shy, you cover your mouth as you chew. "Stop looking at me."

"You look a bit tired. Did you not sleep well?" He asks suddenly. "I had a good sleep, thank you." You inform, surprised how he noticed. You have been feeling a little sick after you woke up despite having a very good night's rest. A headache has been creeping up on your temples but you are trying hard to ignore it because this is not the time to get sick.

You have a long day ahead of you.

Making you jerk, Seungcheol places his palm on your forehead out of the blue as he checks your temperature and an unpleasant look settles on his face. "You are getting a fever." "No, I'm not." You direct your focus on cutting your pancakes, using too much pressure. Ignoring you, the man dials a number on his phone and asks for some cold medicine to be brought to the hotel room to whoever is on the other side. "I just told you, I am fine." You frown, annoyed. He hangs up and stares at you as if you are speaking a different language. "You are not. You need to take the medicine and get some rest."

"Now is not the time for me to sleep! Do not play doctor!" You snap, setting the plate down with a loud bang as you clutch the fork and knife tightly in your hand. Seungcheol does not react to your outburst but simply changes position as he comes to sit next to you.

"Your cousin is in custody. I talked with your lawyer this morning, he is preparing everything well. There is no way he is getting off. Jihoon and his men already testified to the police so you do not have to meet with them unless you want to add something. If you do, I will arrange a phone call with the station. The legal department is working on a statement and it will be released today in a press conference. The CFO will read it out." He informs, casually.

"You are sick, _____. And it's okay .You went through a lot. It is okay if you take a break today. No one is asking you to go out there and face the demons. You need to rest. Your body is asking for it."

His voice softens as one of his hands comes to rest on your thigh gently. The assurance in his voice paired with the tenderness in his eyes makes you swallow a lump in your throat and blink back tears. "Still..."

"Finish your breakfast." He says as he reaches for the plate while taking the fork and knife out of your hand and cutting it into bite sized pieces. "And you should probably call your brother today, by the way. The news of last night's events will reach him sooner or later and I think it would be best if he heard it from you."

You nod, feeling sad. Chan just left for a vacation one week ago. When he hears about this, he will definitely catch the next flight home.

"If you do not want to call him, I can do it for you." Seungcheol offers as he finishes his task and hands the plate and cutlery back to you.

"No, I will do it." You murmur and silently go back to eating. Seungcheol watches you in silence for the rest of the meal and after you are done, the staff returns to clean up and drops your medicines. You take them and then sit in your bed idly, watching the city skyline through your window, trying not to overthink anything. You can hear Seungcheol talk over the phone in the other room before he steps back into the master bedroom to check up on you.

"If you feel too sick, let me know. I will take you to the hospital."

You softly nod and turn your head to look at him. He appears worried, his eyes glazed with concern, his brows forming a knot as if he's trying to read you. After a moment, you silently motion him to come sit by you on the bed which he diligently follows.

His hands reach out to hold yours, his thumb gently stroking your skin as he gazes into your eyes, leaning closer to you, his eyes searching for something in yours. His bangs fall forward, cupping his temples and you itch to brush them away. "Tell me what you are thinking." He whispers.

"You have pretty hair." You reply honestly and he chuckles, shaking his head before his face becomes serious. "I missed you." His voice is low, almost inaudible as his gaze falls down to your linked hands, as if he is ashamed to meet your eyes when saying that. "I missed you too." You reply honestly, once again. Seungcheol seems surprised to hear that and you cannot help but roll your eyes.

"Oh please, Choi Seungcheol. Don't act like you had no idea." Your head rests against the headboard as you make yourself comfortable and scowl at him. "You knew very well how much effect you had on me and you knew damn well how much I loved you."

"Loved me?"

"Okay, love you—"

"Wait, no— you...love me? Really? You didn't say it that night in the heat of the moment?" You only realise then how you just casually spat it out, again, and immediately, heat blooms on your face. You avoid his gaze, snatching your hands from his grip while he looks absolutely stunned.

"Whatever." You mutter, scooting down on the bed, reaching to grab the sheets and hide yourself in them but Seungcheol stops you as he cages you between his arms, his face hovering dangerously close to yours, his perfume and aftershave blending into an addictive scent that makes your brain hazy with need.

Control yourself, woman! "Answer me. You love me?" "Ugh, you heard me the first time," you groan, trying to twist away from him but he stops you by cupping your chin and making you face him.

"Wanna know something?" He whispers, inching his face closer.

"What?" You are breathless.

"I love you too, ____." He replies, his lips ghosting over yours. You anticipate a kiss but he doesn't, instead tucks your hair behind your ear as he whispers in your ear. "I am so deeply, madly in love with you it is embarrassing."

The words are music to your ears and your insides swoon as you close your eyes and relish them, pressing your lips tight to prevent yourself from breaking into a maniacal grin. Seungcheol shifts his weight back and rests himself on his one palm as his other hand softly cups your face. "And I am sorry, once again, for what I did to you."

"Good but I am still mad." You try your best to appear stern.

"I know." His expression is solemn. "I plan on making it up to you until my dying breath."

When did he become so romantic?

"You may start by cuddling me," you whisper, almost shy, carefully watching his reaction. He immediately proceeds to get under the sheets with you and carefully engulfs you into his large arms, your face resting against his solid chest as his hand strokes your hair soothingly. Your arms move to snake around his waist as you feel yourself relax, his arms feeling like the safest, most comfortable place in the entire universe and you never, ever want to leave.

"I love you, Seungcheol." Your voice is muffled against his chest.

"I love you more, angel. So much more."

1 month later

The view around the cabin is just as pretty as you remember it. The setting sun of dusk casts it in a beautiful glow which you stop and stand to admire.

Beside you, Seungcheol finishes parking the jeep and unloads the overnight bags from the trunk.

"What are you looking at?" He asks when he comes to stand next to you, fishing for keys from his pocket in one hand.

"It's very beautiful." You murmur, eyes glancing over the view before settling down on the man next to you. He is dressed in a grey t-shirt, his blond hair looking as gorgeous as ever, if not more in the golden hour and you know, he is undoubtedly the epitome of beauty.

Seungcheol meets your stare with equal sincerity as he reaches to hold your hand, whispering. "Yes, it is." You know he is talking about you.

A light, gleeful laugh escapes your lips as you playfully push him with your shoulder. He grins and drags you with him inside the cabin.

It is hard to believe that this place was a crime scene about a month ago. Seungcheol did some thorough renovations and now the place looks more beautiful, cozier than ever.

As much as your heart wishes to stay in this little piece of green heaven forever, this is a small weekend getaway that Seungcheol organised and initiated by picking you up early from work today. You did not complain because the past few weeks were tough.

Getting your company back together after the fundraiser's incident and making sure you are still in the market is taking a lot of well thought plans and manpower and instructions. You have help, of course, from Chan who immediately rushed home from his vacation when he heard about Jun's attack on you. Seungcheol also has been helping you a lot, though you officially denied him the position of your bodyguard.

He then started working as a security consultant at his friend's company and has been assisting you however he could throughout the past month. He also started therapy again and so far his progress is remarkable. He is a lot less self sabotaging and he has not had a nightmare ever since you got back together, much like you. Not to mention he has been working extra hard to make it up to you, always catering to your every little need and never asking for anything in return or initiating anything, even though you have noticed multiple times how his eyes trail you around hungrily.

So far, you have only rewarded him with kisses because it was too much fun to watch him silently suffer. However, you plan to change that this weekend.

"Let's watch the sunset together," you propose as Seungcheol drops your bags in the bedroom. He agrees and you two walk back outside to the patio, hands linked where you stand and gaze at the setting sun. Seungcheol's arms wrap around you protectively from behind and his chin comes to rest on your shoulder.

"We need to get groceries." He murmurs absentmindedly as he presses a soft kiss on your neck that makes you sigh in pleasure. You hum, offering that you could just order takeout. As the sun dips beneath the horizon, Seungcheol takes occasional peeks at your face, admiring the mesmerised look in your eyes. His heart beats loudly, wild in love as he imagines the rest of his life with you and how it would be to watch you watch the sunset.

Delightful. Like the delightful secret he is hiding. A huge secret that has been burning holes in his pocket for a month. After the night of the attack, the next morning when he went to shop for your clothes at the mall, a ring caught his eye in a jewellery store and he purchased it right there, intent on putting it on your finger someday.

He has been carrying it ever since, waiting for the perfect moment to get down on one knee. Maybe this weekend will carry that moment, maybe not.

Either way, it is fine. He is not in a rush. He knows he will get down on one knee when he deems himself worthy enough of you. Though, logically it might never happen because no one is worthy of a person as beautiful, as amazing as you. But he will work very hard to be worthy of you, now and every day that he has on this planet. Seungcheol smiles to himself, agreeing that he's a very lucky bastard. "Cheol?" You call him by his nickname, breaking his train of thought. "Hm?" "I love you." You whisper. His next words are the sweetest serenade. "I love you more, angel."

A/N: If you have made it this far, congratulations and a huge thank you for taking the time to read this mammoth of a fic! I genuinely put my blood, sweat and tears into this and believe me when I tell you that my wrists hurt like hell. Still, I am glad I could share this with the world and I'm very proud of myself for successfully putting the conjectural idea from my head to the paper. It took a lot of time to come up with the idea, finalize it and stitch the pieces together so please leave a review and reblog! Your thoughts and comments really make my day. Wishing you a happy October! As a side note, I am swearing off of writing fics over 20k words. When I tell you that this app whopped my ass while posting this! My god! I was seriously considering breaking it into two parts. If you are reading this now that means I have hopefully posted it without trouble. Anyway, toodles!

#seventeen smut #scoups smut #seungcheol smut #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #choi seungcheol #scoups imagines #seventeen #seventeen x reader #svt imagines #svt scenarios

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jinuaei · 8 months ago

Note

Dude, you could make a drunken alastor with the reader, what would it be like? And what would happen?

(( I saw a short on YouTube of an animation, I thought it was so funny... I wanted to see a fanfic about it...

If you're curious: https://youtube.com/shorts/ZN2PBs-RsVM?si=12BtCleXiCO7BWkU ))

So I basically mixed both of these asks into one fic, sorry if its not what you wanted its 3 am and I don't know what im doing kk love yall byeeee. been a while since I wrote so please be kind

Additional art

Warning: Kind of yandere? tagging just in case, BAD ACCENT WRITING, kissing!, Drunk alastor

Alastor is a heavyweight when it comes to drinking, but still, his tolerance to strong alcohol is no match to the king of hell himself. The bottles that surround the both of them shine under the lights of the hotel, empty as the red eyes staring at the wall behind Husk. Which is rather concerning as the owner of said eyes is the loser of the impromptu drinking game, started by the loser himself.

Alastor has been taking big Ls tonight huh. Not only did he lose his own game with the king of hell, he’s also getting clowned on by his enemy. Speaking of, Lucifer is now gloating in front of Alastor about how ‘he’s better’ and ‘you thought you could defeat THE KING OF HELL???’, while the recipient is still mindlessly staring at the display bottles of the bar.

Concerned, you walk up to him with hesitation, not wanting to trigger the hunting instincts he has displayed every time you are around. He has always pursued you not in a romantic sense, at least you think so, but more of a predatory sense. Everytime you walk into the room, his head always snaps to your direction, the smile on his face spreading wider and the horns growing the closer you get. At first you would just ignore the ever growing static emitting from him, the fear of getting mauled and eaten by him increasing with the volume of the radio waves.

The intimidating display of his horns always amp up too whenever the other men of the hotel try to talk to you, or just even approaching your general vicinity. The headaches that you leave with always render you unable to do anything for the rest of the day. But with how constantly he’s been threatening the whole room with his power and presence, it’s no wonder you’ve been trying to avoid him everytime you just even feel the shift of static in the air. You’d rather not be MIA just because Alastor’s radio waves make you ill.

However, when you’re with the girls, his presence becomes pleasant, the sharp noise turning into a sweet jazz song that calms your nerves. During those times, you find yourself appreciating his presence. When you talk to Charlie or Nifty, he likes to cozy up right next to you, butting into the conversation, and when either of them ask for help, he tries to include you into the task, even when you are not needed. For Vaggie though, he still does stand next to you but you guess that his face is not as pleasant as when you talk to the other girls as Vaggie always glares at him when tries to speak. Nonetheless, the girls are always treated better than the boys.

Onto the current task, you wave a hand in front of him, still hesitant as Lucifer is still trying to provoke the Radio Demon. Thankfully Charlie managed to drag him away from the bar, talking about how his father is also drunk. With the unsuccessful attempt of catching his attention, you instead call out his name. In response, his head snaps to you with a painful noise that sounds like his neck breaking.

“Are you good Alastor…?,” his stare is still there but it looks more focused compared to the past 20 minutes.

You wait for him to respond, or at least for his brain to work again. Alastor blinks slowly, his smile growing bigger as his eyes finally focus on yours. The empty gaze turns soft and sitting before you is Alastor not as the Radio Demon, but his truest most pure self. And now that you think about it, you don’t hear the faint hum of the radio coming out from him, it was pure silence. That is until he finally speaks to you.

“Hello sha…”

Your breath hitches.

You did not expect the cajun accent that came out of his mouth, and by God was it hot. It took you longer than you wanted to respond, the sheer change of his usual accent surprising you. And the surprise must be obvious on your face as Alastor chuckles at your bafflement.

“Why, what’s wrong dear…?”

He speaks slowly, slurring some of his words, but the accent is still thick on his tongue.

“Nothing, it’s just… how are you? You’ve been staring at the wall ever since you lost to Lucifer.”

“Hm… Nothin’, just thinkin’.”

“Thinking about what?”

“You.”

He purrs, the half lidded stare directed at you burns your body hot. It was nearly impossible to look away from him, but luckily he moved first, perching his head onto his crossed arms, looking adorably tired.

“So uh.. You drink whiskey huh?,” you fumbled, pointing to the various bottles that surrounded him.

He nods, still burrowed in his arms. The others are starting to retreat to their rooms, waving a goodnight to the people left in the lobby, which was you, Alastor and Husk, who is now starting to clean up the bar.

“You know, I haven’t tried whiskey yet.”

Alastor raises his head to look at you, mouth slightly opened as if to display his disbelief to your lack of taste.

“Well, surely you have to try at least once!”

Husk was only minding his business, cleaning up the bottles on the table when Alastor yanks his arm and pulls him to demand a bottle of whiskey. The cat demon's face scrunched up, and he looks at you with a ‘are you fucking for real’ face, you can only smile sheepishly back. Being given no choice, he complies to Alastors demand, grumbling about wanting to sleep but needing to still clean up after you both. Feeling pity, you volunteer to do his work and let him go to bed, he eagerly agrees and practically books it upstairs.

The demon left with you shows off the bottle he acquired, popping off the cap with a flourish. You try to find a glass to drink out of but Alastor had another idea. He drinks out from the bottle and before you can ask him to stop, he grips the back of your head and kisses you.

Your eyes widen, freezing in your seat in shock and awe. His hand moves under your chin and his thumb trails up to hook it through your lips and pulls open your mouth. The whiskey from his mouth transfers to yours, burning as you gulp it down your throat. He finally pulled away when there was no more whiskey left to transfer.

“Well, what do you think? Do you like it?”

The dopey smile on his face is impossible to ignore, he looks so pleased yet still so hungry, but the ever so gentleman still waits for your reaction.

Honestly, you don’t know if you liked the whiskey but you really, really, really liked the kiss.

“Yeah! Yeah, I liked it.”

“That's good! I’m glad my deer also likes the stuff that I like. Haha! Here, have some more!”

He nudges the bottles to you, but since it's midnight and you’d rather not have a hangover by the morning. So you refused, and he full on pouted, pouted! And he looked so sad too, his ears flattened and everything!

You couldn’t bear to see him that sad, even though it’s actually terrifying seeing the Radio Demon, acting like a dejected puppy. So you came up with a solution to both of your problems.

Gingerly holding his cheek, your hands carefully pull his face to yours, his gaze curious but willing. You bit your lip before kissing him lightly, unsure of whether it’s okay or not to do this to the predator that has been haunting your days. The same predator who's now reduced to putty in your hands, eagerly kissing you back with vigour. He tastes of whiskey, which was what you were finding for, and slightly of blood, maybe his meal from earlier that night.

You pull away from him when you start to lose air from the kiss, he complies, his face dazed and the blush from the kiss spreads across his face. Catching your breath, you see Alastor move closer to you, he moves his face to your neck, sniffing it deeply.

“What are you doing…?”

“I’ve been waitin’ for you to accept me for so long...You don’t understand how long I’ve longed for you sha… To become mine,” he starts to ramble, the cajun accent still thick, and only getting thicker the lower his voice gets. His hands start to roam around your body, gripping your waist tight as he pulls you close to him, he would have pulled you onto his lap if you haven’t stood your ground.

“Oh… how I wanted to rip those damned men that try to take you away from me, ‘specially that cursed sorry excuse of a father, Charlie would be soooo much better taken care of by you n’ me. Nifty already thinks of you as her parent, to which of course I wholly agree with. You’d make a perfect parent sha.”

You stay silent as his whole body is now fully leaned against you.

“I like helpin’ you out n’ Nifty, makes me feel like a proud father n’ a good husband… Ohhhh, i’d love to be your husband.”

“Sometimes, I like to follow you around to protect you from those disgustin’ dogs tryin’ to steal you away from me.”

What the fuck is happening? You thought this man hated your guts and only wanted to fuck with you for fun, but not like this. Yeah the kiss wasn’t good either but you only wanted to do it for bragging rights, like who could say they kissed the Radio Demon?? Oooh, Vox would have your head if he knew about this, that tv head of his and his weird obsession with Alastor.

“Would you like to be mine sha?,” his voice snaps you out of your thoughts, his face now planted on your chest as his face nuzzles on it, you can see movement under his coat but you ignore it in favour of looking at him.

“Well… uh…”

“Please…? Please be mine…”

He moves his face close to you again, his breath tickling your lips, tempting you to kiss him again. Your response gets stuck on the tip of your tongue, but luckily, you don’t have to respond as his body flops onto yours, his weight fully on top of you. You can hear his leveled breathing as he dozed off, cradled against your neck, a sign of him now being asleep.

Well shit. You’d have to drag this 7 foot deer up his room, and you pray that he doesn’t remember anything from tonight.

#yandere hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #yandere alastor #yandere alastor x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #yandere hazbin hotel x reader

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slashbitch2 · 5 months ago

Text

scream!

Summary: when murder comes to Westview in the form of a masked killer, you begin to doubt whether you can trust those closest to you...

Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader, Implied Yelena Belova x Fem!Reader, Hinted Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

TW: rather mild smut, dubious consent, blood, violence, injury, death, homophobia, murder... basically the whole plot of the first scream film so if you can survive that im sure you will be fine lol, also spoilers for scream (1996)

W.C: 19.0k words

The words on the screen had already started to blur. Black words on a white screen merged into a sort of greyish mess. Your eyes longed to close, your hands itching to shut down the computer for the night, but onwards you pressed, fingers feverously darting across the keyboard. Everything else in your bedroom was still, lulled into peace by early moonlight seeping through an open window. A quick glance at the time revealed it was already 10pm. You figured that soon you ought to give up and start getting ready for bed…

A thud sounded somewhere outside, your head whipping towards the open window- which no longer displayed the empty night sky, but a figure, hunched over and perched precariously on the windowsill.

An intruder.

Your heart stopped.

And then, the stranger flicked a wave of dark auburn hair out of their face, and your heart continued to beat an irregular pattern. Wanda Maximoff, your girlfriend, who was rubbing her head where she’d smacked it against the roof ledge.

“Jeez.” At this revelation, you shot up from your seat and walked over to the window, tugging it all the way open. “You scared the shit out of me, Wanda.”

She grinned at you, swinging her legs through the frame, hoisting herself inside. “I’m sorry. Don’t hate me. I just wanted to see you.” Her feet landed with a gentle thud, dragging mud onto your white carpet.

“It’s late.” You folded your arms and stared, unimpressed at her cocky expression. “If my dad catches you…”

“I’ll only stay a sec.” She reassured though you were still hesitant. Noticing this, she opened her arms, beckoning you closer. “Come here. Please.”

You obliged and stepped forward, but kept your arms crossed as a physical barrier between you, maintaining the act that you were annoyed at Wanda. More than anything you were just concerned. She was already unpopular with your father, and if he caught her here, it’d surely spell the end of your relationship.

Wanda huffed, hooked a finger in the waistband of your sweatpants and dragged you towards her. You stumbled into her arms, feeling them wrap securely around your back as you reciprocated the embrace. She nuzzled her face into the crook of your neck which, as always, made you melt.

“I’ll make it up to you.” She whispered, the sensation of her warm breath against your skin sending goosebumps throughout your body.

“Oh yeah?” Something daring seeped into your tone as you pulled away to stare at her face, gently brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “For scaring me? Or for the inevitable grounding I’m going to get when my dad discovers you visited?”

“That won’t happen.” She scoffed, nails digging into your waist. “I’ve already been here a couple minutes and he hasn’t come running.”

“Yet...” You shook your head. “But he’ll definitely know when he sees the mud you’ve tracked onto my carpet.”

You saw how her gaze flickered down to your lips and stayed there. “I can help clean it up.” She promised, with no real intention behind her words.

“Alright.” You scanned her face, noticing how blown out her pupils were, saw the slight red tint to her cheeks, watched closely as she licked her lips. You unconsciously leant forward, eyes closing, holding your breath to place a gentle kiss against her lips. Her grip on your waist tightened almost painfully as she immediately deepened the kiss, your mouth naturally parting to allow her entry.

You hummed, savouring the sweet taste of her, contrasting with the way she desperately pressed herself against you. As though she wanted the two of you to permanently merge, never to separate. Her obsession with you was intoxicating. You felt her tongue trace along your teeth, the kiss turning messy as Wanda pushed you back, step by step until your knees hit the edge of your bed.

She held onto you, slowing your fall against the soft mattress, her lips instantly returning to yours as she clambered on top of you. Your heart was no longer racing. It was pounding. But now wasn’t the time to let this go any further.

“Wanda...” You murmured, trying to break away.

She bit against your bottom lip, almost painfully. Her hands were all over you, brushing against the exposed skin of your stomach, up and underneath your shirt. As she began trying to get under your bra, you finally caught hold of her forearm, halting her advance.

“Wanda.” You repeated. Firmer, this time.

Seeing your serious expression, she sighed and sat up. A chill suffused across your body at the loss of contact, worsened by the flicker of annoyance that crossed her face. She was breathing heavily, jaw clenched as she took in your vulnerable position, the heat in her gaze increasing.

“See what you do to me.” She quirked an eyebrow, the corners of her lips quirking up.

You pushed yourself up, leaned against the headboard of your bed and appreciated her dishevelled state. “You know what my dad would do to you?” You reprimanded, reminding her of the reason for breaking it off.

“Fine.” She raised her hands in surrender, hopping off the bed. “I’m going… I’m going.”

You followed her to the window. “Very gentle-womanly of you.”

She placed her hands on the frame, lifting herself up and through.

“Hey.” You placed your hand over hers, stopping her before she disappeared back into the night. “Be safe, alright?” The drop below her wasn’t too far, but the lack of light made it look like some gaping black void ready to swallow her up.

“I will. Pietro’s waiting down the street. He’ll walk me home.”

“Good.” You nodded.

“And, about all…that.” She inclined her head towards the now ruffled bedsheets. “I’m not trying to rush you with any of that.”

You softened at her anxious apology and bent down to plant a chaste kiss against her cheek. “I know, it’s fine. I do want all of that, just… not now.” You shared a smile with her, then added, “but soon.”

“I know.” Wanda bit her lip, eyes sparkling mischievously. “I’ll see you soon, Y/N.”

‘Soon’ came quicker than you would’ve thought. You slept soundly that night and found your alarm blaring at you to get up after what felt like barely ten minutes since you had closed your eyes. It took you a while to actually get up, not because you were reluctant to start the day, quite the opposite in fact. You lay there, wondering what the day would bring, dreaming of walking into school and being greeted by your girlfriend and friends.

You were the happiest you’d ever been since transferring there, and it wasn’t just because of Wanda. There was also Peter Parker, your film fanatic friend, Kate Bishop, who was dating Wanda’s twin brother Pietro, and Yelena Belova, who you would meet halfway on your walk to school every morning. Except for today…

You had waited as long as you could, but she never showed. It wasn’t uncommon for her to skip days, but usually, she called you the night before to inform you of her plans. At first, you were rather annoyed by her unannounced absence- but that annoyance was replaced by concern as soon as you arrived at school, seeing the six police cars, four news vans and a scattered crowd of onlookers stationed outside.

The sudden commotion surrounding your school left you confused and dazed, walking amongst the chaos trying desperately to gather any idea of what had happened here. You stopped in front of one of the reporters talking to a camera, your interest peaking as you recognised her. Pepper Potts. She was one of the local news presenters, infamous for often orchestrating her own version of dull stories to make headline.

“The small town of Westview, New Jersey was devastated last night when a young teenage girl was found brutally butchered in her own home.” Pepper’s expression was grave, her clothing abrasively colourful and ill-fitting for the unfolding story. “Authorities have yet to issue a statement, but our sources tell us that no arrest has been made yet.”

You felt suddenly and inexplicably hot with panic, yet frozen in place.

“The question on all of our minds: could this murderer strike again?”

Westview had never been subjected to such horrors before, the idea of a serial killer operating in your midst being previously unthinkable. Your mind flickered suddenly to Yelena and her sudden disappearance. The logical part of you refused to jump to conclusions but did nothing to stop anxiety from rising in the pit of your stomach.

A finger tapped against your shoulder, dragging you from your spiralling worries. You swivelled round to meet Kate’s warm brown eyes, which were unusually stormy and frantic. “Do you believe this shit?”

“What happened?” You asked instead, praying that Kate somehow already knew more than you.

And she did. “Oh god! You don’t know?” Her lips turned downwards as she scanned the scene thoughtfully. Fearfully. “Yelena was killed last night.”

“What.” You felt the ground drop out from beneath your feet, legs almost buckling under the sudden shock.

“And not just killed, Y/N. We’re talking slasher movie killed- split open end to end.”

“Alright.” You waved off her overly descriptive explanation, pinching the bridge of your nose and taking a deep breath. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. There was no way Yelena was dead. She was just at home, lazing in bed because she hadn’t done her English assignment.

You thought of her messy, blonde hair, her sharp hazel eyes. Thought of her untidy bedroom floor you had spent so many sleepovers on, her parents always so welcoming. You thought of the stray dog she had been feeding for the last couple of years. Who would look after him now?

“God.” You clutched at your stomach, tried not to heave at the realisation that this was real. Someone wanted Yelena dead and had succeeded.

“Shit. I’m so sorry.” Kate placed a gentle, comforting hand on your back then swiftly removed it. “I didn’t think… I forgot you guys were… friends.”

“It’s fine.” You shook off the concern, forcibly standing up straight and glancing around. “I’m guessing the police will probably want to talk to me.”

“Yeah… probably.” Kate agreed feebly. “They’ve been rounding up friends of Yelena on the way in for interviews.”

The sickness settled in your chest. One you would have to learn to live with, to allow to stew into anger. “Do they have any idea who did this?”

“No. Peter said his uncle is on the case, and that it’s the worst crime he’s ever seen.” You looked back at Kate’s face, deeply pained. “It’s bad. They’re bringing in the feds. This is big.”

“Shit.” You said, at a loss for words.

“Shit indeed.” Kate agreed.

As predicted, you were instantly called into questioning in the principal’s office. It was intimidating to walk in and see a room full of cops with the headmaster, Nicky Fury sitting calmly at his desk. The man always looked extremely serious, but today was something else entirely. The frown he wore seemed engraved into his face like it was carved out of solid stone.

“Miss Y/L/N.” He gestured to the chair opposite. “Please, have a seat.”

Reluctantly, you sat down, then noticed the officer stood to Fury’s left: Tony Stark. He was Peter Parker’s uncle, and as such, the least menacing figure in the room.

“Hey Tony.” You greeted out of habit, wringing your hands in your lap.

“It’s Deputy Stark today, kid.” He corrected, crossing his arms.

“Sorry.” You muttered, glancing around the room at all the unfamiliar faces, feeling worse and worse. Although there was no spotlight shining in your face, it felt no less like a persecution.

Nonetheless, you answered all their questions to the best of your knowledge, trying your hardest not to imagine poor Yelena, left lying face down in a pool of her own blood. She had never been the type to be squeamish or frightened, and right now, you wished you had just a fraction of her courage…

By the time your interrogation- or interview, as they had been referring to it- was over, the lunch bell had just rung. You slung your backpack over your shoulder and headed to the courtyard where you normally ate lunch, though you had no appetite today. With every question the officers had asked, every gentle, probing ‘are you alright’ you had grown more and more sick. You looked a mess. Pale. Unfocused. Very seriously considering calling your dad to come pick you up…

“Hey!” A familiar voice broke through the general ruckus of the courtyard. “Y/N, over here.” It was Pietro, waving you over, his other arm slung over Kate’s shoulder possessively. As per usual, Pietro seemed his usual obnoxious self, totally unbothered by everything that was happening. Kate smiled at you pitifully, while Wanda, sat to her left, eyed you up with a wariness as you approached.

It was Peter, always the fifth wheel, who budged over to make room for you. You forced a thankful smile at him, muttered a brief hello to everyone else, and sat as close to Wanda as possible. She appeared to snap back into reality, wrapping an arm around your waist and tugging you closer, playing the role of concerned girlfriend perfectly. You sunk into her embrace, relaxed at the familiar smell of her shampoo and perfume, soaked up the warmth from her body and closed your eyes.

Temporarily, the nauseating sensation faded.

“Hunt? Why would they ask if you like to hunt?” Kate frowned at Pietro, and whatever tale he had been spinning while you hadn’t been paying attention.

Your eyes fluttered open as you picked up on the middle of their conversation. Wanda leant into your ear to whisper, “Pietro was called into interrogation too. He sits next to her in English.”

“Probably because her body was gutted.” He scoffed.

You flinched, despite having already accepted that Yelena’s murder would be the only topic of conversation for the following couple of months.

“Wow, thanks for that Piet.” Kate scolded, ever aware of your reaction.

“They didn’t ask me if I like to hunt.” Peter chimed in, to which everyone looked at him, confused. “They questioned me too. Not sure why. I saw her in the library sometimes, but that was it.”

“They didn’t ask you because… well- look at you!” Pietro snorted, gesturing at Peter who, admittedly did not look capable of murder. He was well-built, but often had a pair of glasses perched upon his nose, and a pathetic attempt at growing facial hair paired with hand-me-down sweaters in all weather, hot or cold.

“Yeah, Yelena was completely hollowed out. Takes a man to do something like that.” Wanda added, while softly stroking a thumb along your arm, as if that made it all better.

“Or a man’s mentality.” You commented, finding that if you thought about the whole situation as being purely theoretical, it wasn’t too bad. “How do you gut someone?” You said, more to yourself than aloud.

There was a beat of surprised silence.

“Well, you just take a knife,” Pietro grabbed a pencil from his pocket, held it out as though it were a weapon, “and slit from the groin to the sternum.” He mimed slicing through the air, making a hissing sound.

You shivered down to your soul. Never had you expected Pietro to have such an unapologetically violent imagination. You almost hated him for it. A glance at Kate revealed the same expression of shock, not having expected such graphic insensitivity from her boyfriend.

“What?” Pietro exclaimed. “She asked.” He laughed, throwing the pencil down.

“You couldn’t have been a little more sensitive?” Wanda chastised; a barely suppressed rage hidden in her tone. “Someone died last night, and you’re acting like it had nothing to do with us. Yelena was Y/N’s friend. She went to this school, attended our lessons, was our classmate. Be more tactful.” She spat.

You couldn’t help but swell with pride at Wanda’s outburst, and in the tense avoidance of eye contact that followed amongst the group, you quickly kissed her cheek in thanks.

“Sorry.” Pietro rubbed his forehead, bashfully avoiding anyone’s gaze except for his sister’s. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have said anything.” He threw his hands up in mock surrender, and for a blessed second, you thought it was all over. And then, he turned to you with an exaggerated curiosity. “Weren’t you and Yelena more than friends at one point?”

Your mouth fell open in surprise. It had been a long, long time since than rumour had circulated the school. Although, there was some truth behind it… You and Yelena had been friends since middle school, and there had been a few moments when you had considered perhaps pursuing a relationship with her. But every time you tried it, you both ended up concluding that you were better off just staying friends.

You felt Wanda tense beside you, snapping you back into reality. “Not really. We tried it ages ago. Didn’t work out...” You explained, trailing off towards the end. You hadn’t been with Wanda long enough for the topic to arise, but there was no way she didn’t know. The school wasn’t big, and gossip was traded amongst everyone, whether they be a loner outcast or stereotypical popular cheerleader.

“Ahh…” Pietro nodded slowly, feigning ignorance. “And you dumped her for my sister?

You gritted your teeth, hating how such an insignificant part of your past was suddenly in the limelight. “I didn’t dump her because we never really dated. And we’ve been nothing but friends for over two years now- or I guess were.”

“Come on, Pietro. Are you trying to insinuate Wanda is some revengeful, jealous girlfriend?” Peter joked, trying to lighten the tension that had fallen across your table.

Wanda laughed, though the humour didn’t spread beyond her lips.

“Actually, she was with me last night.” You placed a hand on her upper thigh, grasped at the muscle there and felt it flex. “Too busy being stupidly committed and climbing through my window to enact her revenge.”

“Yeah, exactly.” She fixed Pietro with a pointed stare. “Besides, like I said, it takes a man to do something like that.”

...

You got the bus home that day, unwilling to walk your usual route back from school alone while there was a possible killer on the loose. After all, if they’d gone for your friend Yelena, who’s to say they wouldn’t be targeting you next? As you stepped inside your house, shutting the door securely behind you, it dawned on you that you might not truly be safe even here. Nobody was. Not until they caught whoever had murdered Yelena.

Suddenly, you got the distinct feeling that you were being watched, as though the killer had eyes in the walls of your home. You shivered and called out for your dad- only to be met with silence. Panic began to rise in your chest, amplifying with every footstep that echoed through the empty house. The stuffy air became suffocating, the walls closing in around you as you searched each room. All the furniture lay dormant and undisturbed, awaiting someone’s arrival. Your heart was in your throat, your mind jumping to all the worst conclusions about where your father was.

By your second lap around the house, your eyes landed on a note pinned to the fridge. You stormed over, yanked the paper free from the magnet and with shaking hands scanned the page. It was from your father, a scribbled explanation that his brother in the next state over had fallen seriously ill and he needed to visit immediately. The note explained that he had tried to ring the school but got no answer, eventually giving up and having to leave without you.

The final line detailed that he had left a wad of cash for you to order food and fend for yourself for the foreseeable future, which you retrieved right away. You flipped the bills around in your hand, feeling the textured paper as if to ground yourself, to convince yourself this was real, not some fabricated trick by a murderer currently stalking you. After the day you’d had, anything could be possible.

But, oh god- your dad must not have known. He had left town at possibly the worst moment being none the wiser. And you were stuck here, genuinely unable to imagine any worse time to be home alone. Your hands itched to pick up the phone, to try dialling your uncle’s house, pray someone would pick up so you could demand your father return home as soon as physically possible. But that would be cruel, and so instead, you typed in Kate’s number.

Her mother answered after a couple seconds and made briefly awkward small talk before calling out to her daughter, who came running.

“Hey, Y/N. Are you alright? I was gonna call and check-“

“Yeah, yeah, Kate, I’m fine.” You interrupted. “But look, my dad’s had to leave for some family emergency and,“

“Oh shit, you’re alone?” Her voice quickly succumbed to worry, one which made you smile despite everything. You were lucky to have such a caring friend. “Do you want to come stay with us for a while?”

“Please.” You let out a sigh of relief. “That’s what I was calling about. I’m not sure how long my dad will be gone for but…”

“Yeah, of course it’s no worry.” She assured. “I’ll pick you up after archery practice?”

“Sure. When do you finish?”

“Six-thirty. So, I’ll be there by seven at the latest. I promise.”

A glance at the clock revealed it was only four. You swallowed back your paranoia, reasoning that you would spend most of the time packing anyway. “Ok great. Thanks. Are you sure your mom will be alright with it?”

“Of course. No one wants to be alone with everything that’s happened. She’ll understand.”

“Alright, thanks. I’ll see you soon.”

“Later!”

The silence that engulfed your house after the phone call ended was oppressive, broken up only by small creaks and taps which made you jump out of your skin. To combat this, you grabbed your old, beat-up Walkman from your school bag, tugging the headphones over your head and grabbing enough cassettes to last several hours of constant music. Then, to fill the silence between each song, you flicked the TV on to whatever channel had been left playing.

Although muffled, you still heard the reporter, the one you had seen earlier today outside the school. Pepper…whatever her name was. You watched, partially interested whether you would make a cameo in the background.

“The state Bureau of Investigation has joined forces with local authorities to help catch what the Governor has called the most heinous crime ever committed in Westview.” Her teeth were an obnoxious gleaming white, her expression displaying an emotion not quite fit for the story she was currently presenting.

“The victim, seventeen-year-old Yelena Belova was found last night in her home…”

You tuned out to Pepper’s words as a picture filled the screen, a candid of Yelena, who somehow looked younger than you remembered. It hadn’t even been long since you had last seen her, yet the time that had passed felt like years. You wanted the snapshot to stay on screen forever, so you could commit every detail about her to memory. You couldn’t forget her. You refused.

Yelena stared at you from the TV screen as tears blurred your vision, the cassette flipping to an aptly melancholic song.

Then, as Pepper continued to drone on, the image flicked to a different one, this one of her official school picture. Despite everything, you burst out laughing at this, imagining how unhappy Yelena would’ve been to see this photo displayed on national television. She hated it. You didn’t blame her. The photo looked much too formal, an awkward contrast to the reality of who Yelena was. You wondered whether the news would report her life as it was, or if they’d spin the tale into something much more tragic: that she was a Straight-A student, destined for something great, her life so tragically cut short.

Probably.

With a roll of your eyes, you reached out for the TV remote, switching the channel until something fictional- or unrelated to Yelena came on, eventually settling on some old rerun of an TV show your dad liked to watch. The familiarity of it was enough that you could finally relax, pretending nothing out of the ordinary had occurred that day… It wasn’t long until your eyes fluttered close, your body sinking into the plush couch and to unconsciousness.

A shrill ringing jolted you awake, resonating round the still-empty house. You thought it’d been minutes since you fell asleep, but a quick glance at the clock showed the time to be 6 pm. Confused by the loud intrusion, your gaze snapped around the room, now darkened by dusk.

The last pinkish hue of sunlight highlighted the phone perched on the side table and answered your unspoken question. Launching across the cushions and throwing your hand out, you grasped onto the object and brought it to your ear.

“Hello?” Your voice was hoarse having just woken up, and a slight annoyance crept into your tone.

“Hello, Y/N.” A man’s voice answered. Deep, raspy and entirely unfamiliar.

“Hi…” You answered hesitantly, perturbed by the fact he already knew your name. “Who is this?”

“You tell me.”

You frowned, lips quirking up in polite amusement. “I have no idea.” As much as you racked your brain for the possible culprit, his voice was too distorted to properly place.

“Scary night, isn’t it? With the murders and all…” He said instead, abruptly changing the topic to one you were infinitely less fond of. “It’s like right out of a horror movie or something.”

“Aha,” you nodded to yourself, reaching a conclusion. “Peter, you gave yourself away. You’re such a nerd.” Able to relax, at last, you collapsed back down on the sofa.

“Do you like scary movies, Y/N?”

“I like that thing you’re doing with your voice, Peter.” You replied instead. “Very sexy.”

“What’s your favourite scary movie?”

“Don’t start.” You scoffed, growing increasingly irritated at his commitment to the act. “You know I think they’re all shit.”

“And why is that?”

You sighed down the phoneline, listening to the silence as he waited for a response and debating whether it was truly worth answering or just hanging up. “Because they’re all the same. It’s always some stupid killer stalking some innocent girl who can’t act- who always runs up the stairs when she should be going out the front door. They’re ridiculous.”

Finishing the rant, you took a deep breath and were met by more silence.

And then, “Are you alone in the house?”

“That is so unoriginal. You disappoint me, Peter.”

“Maybe that’s because I’m not Peter.”

“So who are you?” Hot anger flushed against your chest as you sat up straight. Something here wasn’t quite right…

“The question is not who I am…” He paused ominously. “The question is where am I?”

Your boiling anger was immediately flushed by cold fear.

“So where are you?”

There was a deep, mocking laugh which crackled into your ear like static.

“Your front porch.”

You leapt up from your seat, determined to expose the prank for what it was and put an end to the insensitive joke. Your heart was thundering in your chest as you moved to the window and pulled aside the drapes, muttering into the phone, “Why would you call me from my front porch?”

“That’s the original part.”

You tried to angle your view through the window, unable to see all of the porch. “Oh yeah?” The porch seemed to be empty. “Well, I call your bluff.”

Feeling more secure in your belief, you went to the front door, unlocking the bolt, unsnagging the chain and pulling it open. As expected, the outside porch was completely empty, lit by a single light shining overhead, with little beyond but darkness.

“So where are you really?” You challenged at the mysterious caller’s silence.

“Right here.” He growled.

You peered closer into the darkness, into the thick shrubs growing on either side of the house and still seeing nothing. “Can you see me right now?”

“Uh-huh.”

“What am I doing?” You stuck your middle finger into the air, waving it about in the air for a few seconds.

There was no answer.

“Good try, Peter.” You shook your head incredulously. “Bye now.”

“If you hang up, you’ll die just like Yelena.” The voice spat before you could pull the phone away from your ear.

You stopped dead in your tracks at his sudden seriousness, rendered speechless that Peter would say such a thing. Or perhaps, it really wasn’t him, which could only mean…

“Do you want to die, Y/N? Yelena certainly didn’t. She begged and cried, crawled across her carpet like the pathetic, insipid little…”

“Fuck you!” You interrupted, hands shaking and voice wavering. You hung up, stepped back inside the house and locked the door again.

Behind you, the hall closet door slammed open. You jumped, turning round in time to see a figure clad in black charging at you, ramming into your side. The phone flew out of your hand as you crashed to the ground, pinned down by the intruder wearing a distorted, white, ghostly mask. The type you had seen so many times, sold cheaply in costume stores and Halloween displays. Yet now, it actually was terrifying.

Your instincts finally surfaced as you kicked your foot into his leg, causing him to topple over. Wasting no time, you leapt to your feet and slammed into the front door, hands scrambling to unlock it again. Before you could escape, the figure rose, knife in hand, and grabbed onto your torso to drag you back. With survival mode having taken over, you were able to fight back with all of your strength, pulling, jerking and twisting to break free. You managed to free yourself from his grip, pushing the figure off you and sending him reeling into the living room.

Feeling fear tightening its hold on you, and seeing the futility of your escape, you made the daring move to turn and sprint up the stairs. The figure was hot on your heels as your heart pounded loudly in your ears. You reached the landing just as he lunged at you, grabbing a hold of your foot to slow you down. Panicking, you desperately grasped around you, nails scraping against the walls until they landed on a framed painting. Without sparing a glance at the image, you ripped it from the wall in a surge of might, swinging it behind you to smash against the figure’s skull.

You watched, wide-eyed as he staggered backwards, clutching at his head and tumbling down the stairs. Not wanting to waste the moment of respite you had bought for yourself; you raced into your bedroom and locked the door. There were a horrid couple of seconds of stillness throughout the house, broken only by your heavy breathing- and then, the banging began. A fist pounded against wood, and rattled the doorknob, as you frantically scanned your room.

You had left the phone downstairs and opted instead to dash over to the computer, fingers darting across the keyboard in a panicked frenzy. You spared a glance back at the door, seeing the figure had begun splintering the frame with his knife. Then, you turned back to the computer and hit send on a FAX message to 911 for help. As the blade continued its assault, cracking wood and sending splinters flying throughout your room, you typed even faster, trying to stay calm as you waited and watched a response appear on the screen.

STAY CALM. POLICE ENROUTE.

You let out a breath of slight relief, the message offering a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos… Only then, you realised that the figure had stopped. No more shards of wood were flying through the air, no blurred silver of the knife swinging around. You were alone now, accompanied by a haunting silence that had descended upon your home.

Suddenly, a noise at the window frame. You swivelled around, prepared to fight once more only to be met by Wanda, staring at you with surprise palpable in her expression.

“Oh, Wanda.” A sob racked your body as you shook uncontrollably, the reality of the situation finally dawning on you. “Please…God.” You brought a hand to your face, then flung it down, anxiously shifting your weight about as adrenaline kept you on your toes.

“I heard screaming, and the door was locked. Are you okay?” Wanda’s warm brown eyes flickered over your tense form, tears streaming endlessly and blurring your vision.

“He’s here. Trying to kill me…” You managed out.

Wanda’s face turned shocked as she pulled herself through the window with more urgency. As she did, a small black object fell from the back pocket of her jeans, landing against the carpet with a soft thud and drawing your attention downwards. Sat inconspicuously between the two of you was a sleek, compact cell phone. Any other day and it wouldn’t have made you concerned in the slightest… but now….

You stopped dead in your tracks, an icy sickness rising in your throat, something akin to distrust. You met Wanda’s gaze, which no longer held the comfort you sought.

Could it possibly be…? Had Wanda just tried to kill you?

Unwilling to face that possibility, you bolted.

You ignored Wanda calling after you, rushing to unlock the fractured bedroom door and tearing down the stairs, nearly slipping on the linoleum floor as you caught sight of the front door. Freedom. You skidded to a halt, ripped the chain off the door and urgently tugged it open.

“Y/N, wait!” Footsteps rapidly descended the stairs behind you as you dashed onto the front porch and were instantly blinded by flashes of blue and red.

Police cars screeched to a halt outside the house, their sirens blaring in the lonely night air. You paused, relief flooding your system at the first sign of safety. You were scared, lightheaded and dazed, but you were safe, at last.

“Y/N?” Wanda called out again, softer this time. Her voice betrayed a hint of disappointment, one you couldn’t stop yourself from glancing back at. She was lingering in the doorway, red and blue lights exposing the innocent shock on her face. Guilt suffused throughout your body, which made you long to crash into her arms and lose yourself to the comfort. But you couldn’t bring yourself to, your mind flickering back to the phone that had fallen out of her pocket, convicting her as a potential suspect.

But could she really be? Your girlfriend, a murderer?

You flinched as Wanda took a cautious step towards you. Her face fell at the involuntary movement, and you were thankful to hear the car doors slamming shut behind you, followed by an all too familiar voice demanding for Wanda to freeze.

Tony Stark appeared next to you, gun loaded and aimed straight ahead as he approached you both, assessing the scene. He paused, gaze flickering over Wanda with suspicion.

“Y/L/N, what’s going on here?” He asked sternly.

Your eyes swept over Wanda, considering whether you were truly willing to hand her over so easily.

“I’m not sure.” You answered instead, your voice hoarse, but carrying an undeniable certainty.

“Please, baby.” Wanda implored you, the nickname sending a chill across your skin. Whether it was pleasant or not, you weren’t sure. “You know I would never.” Tears welled in her eyes as she shook her head.

And you wanted to believe her, you really did.

But you couldn’t.

“I don’t know anything, Wanda. Not right now.”

...

The front yard of your house soon became a whirlwind of activity. You observed the scene disinterestedly from a distance, sat in the back of an ambulance following a check-up from the first responders. Apart from a couple of bruises and a cut on your arm, you had escaped unscathed from the attack and were told to consider yourself lucky. But you didn’t. You remained in a state of shock, as barely ten minutes ago, you had watched the cops handcuff your girlfriend and throw her into the back of a squad car.

It was hardly a lucky outcome.

At the present moment, she was their only suspect, and so you had let them take her, uncertain of anything except for a need for safety. To have someone answer for the attack, locked away so you could live and forget. Though the guilt stopped you from being able to do so.

Numbly, you watched as Tony and the sheriff, whose name you had yet to learn, started heading your way. They both had an awkward expression of pity, which was a rare sight on Tony Stark’s face and made you feel somehow worse. The sheriff stopped a couple of feet away, his pitying gaze never leaving you as Tony slumped down beside you.

“We’re seeing a lot of you today.” He patted your back reassuringly, though the gesture made you nauseous. “You gonna be able to come down to the station and talk to us in a bit?”

You tried to smile but failed. “Yeah…”

In the distance, a flash of purple caught your attention, weaving in and out of the maze of police cars and officers.

“Y/N?” Kate appeared, barrelling past an officer and jogging over to the ambulance. “What happened? Oh god…” She covered her mouth with her hand as she stared at the chaos currently surrounding your home.

“Sorry, you can’t be here,” The sheriff grasped onto her arm, prepared to drag her out. “This is an official crime scene.”

“It’s okay.” You quickly interrupted. “She was supposed to pick me up.”

“Yeah.” Kate’s eyes frantically darted between the intimidating figures. “Her dad’s out of town. She’s staying with me.”

Both officers looked questioningly over at you.

“I didn’t want to be home alone.”

“Well, I can see why.” Tony agreed after a beat of silence, then stood up to allow Kate to sit down next to you.

“Are you alright?” She asked, ignoring the obvious curiosity in her expression in lieu of checking you were okay first. It made your heart swell momentarily with a fondness for your friend, more concerned by your current state than the events that had just transpired.

You opened your mouth to respond, though never got the chance to as another set of vans arrived outside the house. They skidded to a halt with the same urgency as the first responders had, though with no markings indicating such on the side.

Tony sighed, staring at the vehicles disapprovingly. “Here come the vultures.”

Right on cue, the door to the van slid open and a figure clad in a red suit hopped down onto the road. She stood out from the rest of the onlookers, gazing round at the scene with a barely hidden interest, her vibrant clothing abrasive and eye-catching. The unmistakable colour of blood. Her face fell upon you at the opposite end of the yard, and you recognised her as the infamous Pepper Potts.

“Alright, let’s get you out of here.” Tony offered out his arm.

You hauled yourself up as Kate positioned herself beside you, shielding you from the oncoming media frenzy. You kept your head down as you drew closer to the reporter, praying she didn’t notice you walk past.

“Jesus! The camera, Happy- hurry!” She clicked her fingers at the cameraman, then you heard heels clicking as she jogged to catch up with you. “Excuse me!” She yelled out, almost elbowing Tony out of the way. You were exposed, seeing Pepper’s pearly whites, a microphone clutched in her hand and a camera following closely to be shoved in your face.

“There are no statements to be made at this current moment.” Tony recovered, raising a hand over the lens of the camera. “Maybe get a life, stop stalking and come back at the appropriate-“

“Hi, Miss Y/L/N, right?” Her gaze softened momentarily as she ignored Tony.

You halted, perturbed by the fact she already knew your name.

“Some night.” She exclaimed when you didn’t speak. Pepper glanced back at the camera dramatically, then feigned concern. “Are you alright?”

You knew she was only asking to get a verbal response for the camera. You were visibly shaking, your face pale and eyes wide. Quite clearly you were not okay, and reluctant to provide her with an answer.

“What happened?” Pepper prompted at your silence.

“She’s not answering any questions right now. Just leave us alone, okay?” Kate interrupted, putting herself between you and Pepper and fixing her with a frown.

“It’s fine.” You sighed, waving a hand nonchalantly, though you felt anything but. “She’s just doing her job.”

“Exactly.” Pepper smiled, seemingly taken aback. “Now what can you tell us about the event that transpired here?”

You shrugged. “I was attacked.”

“And do you have any idea who was behind the attack, or perhaps what instigated it?”

“Well, I got a phone call from some creep.” You grimaced, unwilling to share the full details. “But otherwise, I have no idea.” You smiled, hoping that would be the end of Pepper’s interrogation, and perhaps she’d leave you alone.

You were wrong.

“And could this be related to the recent death of Yelena Belova? I’d heard the two of you were close.”

You narrowed your eyes, unable to ignore the emphasis she put on the word ‘close.’

“Or maybe that’s not quite the correct phrasing.” She pursed her lips in mock thoughtfulness. “Together?”

You tensed, your face going taut at the suggestion, then forced yourself to relax. “I don’t see how that has anything to do with-“

“So, you were in a relationship with Miss Belova?” She interrupted once again, seeming to already have reached a conclusion without your input.

“No, never anything as serious as that…” Your voice was strained now, as you tried desperately to correct the assumption.

“An unrequited-“

“No!” It was your turn to intervene, hopefully putting an end to Pepper’s outlandish theories. “Nothing really happened, and it was so long ago-“

“Perhaps you resented Yelena for never wanting to be with you.” Pepper continued, spinning your words into a wild accusation. “Perhaps, it even drove you to murder- one you’re attempting to cover up now by faking an attack.”

“Faking?” Kate cut in incredulously.

“That’s bullshit.” You exclaimed, unable to suppress your slowly building rage. “And you know it.”

“Well, I’m just throwing ideas out,” she shrugged infuriatingly, then turned on Tony, “seeing as the police have yet to make any official statement or provide the concerned citizens of Westview with any reassurances.”

“We’re… working on it.” Tony stuttered out, caught off guard by the sudden criticism.

“Well, you better get working fast, officer.” She scoffed. “And it’s hard to ignore the relation between both attacks.” She looked back at the camera. “Having shared a brief, intimate relationship between two young adults of the same sex. Are these attacks politically motivated? Religious, perhaps? Maybe rather than focusing on the personal motive, the killer intends to send out a message of-“

“Fuck you.” You interrupted, clenching your jaw to keep you from saying anything worse.

Pepper looked at you in disbelief. “I think you ought to watch your language, young lady. Your moral character seems to have already drawn enough attention.”

In a blurred, unexpected instant, you brought your fist forward and smashed it hard into Pepper Pott’s face. The impact sent Pepper reeling backwards, knocking into Happy and his ridiculously expensive camera as they both tumbled to the pavement.

“Hey! Hey.” Tony outstretched his arm, physically blocking you. “That’s enough. I think it’s time we go.”

You took a deep, satisfied breath seeing the two piled on the ground, then allowed yourself to be tugged along and into the back of Tony’s squad car. You didn’t care if Pepper managed to spin the events and make you look bad, or if it worsened your reputation. It had been worth it to wipe the smug smile from her face.

...

“God, I loved it!” Kate laughed and threw herself back onto the bed. “Oh, Y/N, you need to be careful, your bad moral proclivities and your bad language will be the death of you!”

You perched on the other side of Kate’s bed, chuckling at her bad impression of Pepper.

“And then BAM! Bitch went down.” Kate thumped her fist into her palm and laughed some more.

“Talking of…” Tony appeared in the doorway, clutching a bag of ice. “I thought you might want some ice for that right hook.”

He tossed the bag of ice over, which you caught and placed over your reddening fist, wincing at the bruise already forming.

“I’ve got two officers stationed outside the house all night, so if anything happens, they’ll be here” He continued, clearly exhausted and ready to head home after the long night.

You nodded and thanked him. “Any word on reaching my dad?” You quickly asked before he disappeared. You had given the cops your uncle’s number, and despite the incessant number of times it’d been rung, they had received no answer so far.

“Afraid not, kid. But we’ll let you know when we do.”

“If you do…” You muttered bitterly. “Pretty shitty timing for my uncle to fall so seriously ill.”

“Or maybe it’s all related?” Kate chimed in, looking conspiratorially between the two of you. “Maybe the killer planned it all…”

You thought for a moment. “Nah. My uncle has heart problems, it’s probably to do with that.”

“Real great theory Kate.” Tony snarked. “Maybe you should try submitting it to Pepper Pott’s investigatory website.”

“She has a website?” You scoffed at the idea.

“Yeah.” Tony nodded slowly, his mind clearly elsewhere.

“And how do you know?” Kate smirked. “You a fan, Stark?”

“Well, it is my job to investigate.”

You and Kate shared a knowing look.

“And if that investigation happens to involve a ridiculously attractive, if slightly intense journalist, then so be it.” He shrugged, brazenly unashamed.

Suddenly, the phone stationed on the bedside table started ringing, sending a jolt of panic coursing through you. Its shrill sound echoed uncomfortably in the bedroom as Tony quirked an eyebrow, and Kate looked at the item as though it were going to bite should she answer the call.

You were all slightly paranoid, to say the least.

“I guess I should get that…” Kate gulped and reached an uncertain hand out to grasp the phone. “It’s probably just Peter… or someone.”

You instinctively knew that wasn’t the case. Peter would have an idea of what was happening as Tony was hardly discrete when talking to his nephew, and the only other person it could possibly be was Pietro… You shuddered at that possibility. That he might blame you for accusing Wanda. That he would be angry.

Kate took a breath. “Hello?”

You didn’t need to hear the person on the other end, Kate’s face was telling enough. Her eyes flickered over to you as she answered, “yeah, she’s right here.”

And then, the device was being handed over to you by your terrified-looking friend. Your brain screamed not to take it, rather pass it on to Tony, but your heart reasoned that if it truly was the killer, then Wanda’s name would be cleared, and that was something you couldn’t pass up. Besides, nobody would be able to identify the voice except you.

Your sweaty palm enclosed the phone and brought it slowly to your ear. “Who is this?” You forced out, sending a last-minute prayer that it might just be your dad, finally getting back in contact.

“Hello Y/N.” The same, raspy voice taunted.

Hot tears immediately welled up in your vision as the memory came rushing back anew. “No.” You murmured, covering your face as though to block out this horrid reality. The killer was committed, and somehow knew you would be here. It was a horrifying prospect.

But at least it wasn’t Wanda…

“Poor Wanda,” the anonymous voice sang out, “innocent and locked away in a prison cell for the night. You know this kind of thing goes on permanent records, right?”

“Hey!” Tony boomed out, conclusive in his decision as he stormed across the room and snatched the phone from you. “I’m afraid Miss Y/L/N has had to dash off, can I take a message?”

The clock in Kate’s room ticked away, marking five seconds of silence before Tony spoke again.

“Or maybe leave an email. Hotmails really taking off these days, it’ll save money on your phone bill.”

You heard the telltale buzz as the line went dead, prompting Tony to slam the phone back down and mutter “damn.”

A cold sense of dread settled over the room, like the killer was somehow watching you now, ever present, ever aware of your whereabouts. But it simply wasn’t possible… The only people who knew you were here were Kate, her mother, Tony, and the rest of the police force. Unless someone had simply guessed, meaning it had to be somebody close to you, who knew you well enough to anticipate your every move.

That prospect was no less concerning, and so you resigned yourself to trying to sleep that night without sparing a thought to the perilous situation you had found yourself in.

...

The atmosphere in school was like nothing you had ever seen before. The corridors seemed narrower, constricting all around you, the students inhabiting them more rowdy than usual. Classes dragged on longer than necessary, and you were unable to focus on what the teachers were droning on about. You were paranoid, too preoccupied by the knowing glances constantly being thrown back at you to care about anything else. The likelihood that the killer was someone you knew kept replaying in your mind, suspicion lacing every interaction with your friends and peers at school. Hell, even the teachers.

And the worst part was that you kept seeing that damned mask everywhere.

To the people who had no connection to you or Yelena, this was the most exciting thing to happen in Westview in their lifetime, and they certainly weren’t going to miss out on the festivities that some were partaking in. As you walked between classes, figures in the same cheap, ghostly Halloween mask sprinted up and down the corridors, chasing one another and reenacting what for you was fresh trauma.

“This is a mistake. I shouldn’t be here.” You confessed to Kate after witnessing the third Ghost-faced imposter.

She frowned, equally as perturbed by the way the school reacted to such disturbing events. “I want you to meet me here right after class, okay?” She demanded, unwilling to separate seeing the state you were in.

You nodded and smiled, then went to reassure her you would be fine, but something more important caught your attention.

“Shit, what is she doing here?” Kate exclaimed softly.

You were both transfixed, helplessly watching as the Maximoff twins were making their way over to you. Wanda looked tired, that much was clear. You hadn’t given any previous thought to the fact she would likely be released following the phone call to you last night, let alone expect her to make an appearance in school- probably only to see you.

In contrast to Wanda’s exhaustion, Pietro looked angry, and you prayed that anger wasn’t directed at you, though you wouldn’t blame him if it was. Noticing this, Kate went ahead to grab onto Pietro’s shoulders and try slow the warpath he was on. While he was momentarily distracted, Wanda came to a stop in front of you, her eyes cautiously seeking out your own. It was strange to see her after everything that had occurred, made more surreal by the fact that it was in such a mundane setting.

“Hey Y/N. Can we talk a sec?” She spoke so fast, but softly, as though afraid she was about to be dragged away once again.

You couldn’t hold the eye contact and flickered back to Kate in a silent cry for help.

“You know, if I were accused of carving up someone and attacking my girlfriend, I’d take the opportunity to skip school.” She called to Wanda warily.

“Hey, go easy, Kate.” Pietro interrupted. “She didn’t do it.” You could practically see him gritting his teeth together in an attempt to stop himself from saying worse.

You paid them no mind, summoning the resolve to turn back to your girlfriend. “Fine, five minutes.” Glancing around at the several unfamiliar pairs of eyes watching interestedly, you added, “Girl’s bathroom, now.”

Clutching your textbooks to your chest, you marched through the hallways with Wanda in tow. She didn’t say a word until you had shut the door behind you and checked every stall, confirming that the bathroom was actually empty.

“You… don’t think it was me, right?” Wanda maintained a distance from you, nervously wringing her hands.

You took a deep breath, reasoning that surely it couldn’t be. “No.”

Wanda nodded, managing out a tearful smile.

“I don’t think it was you… just… oh god.” You felt yourself begin to cry, reliving what you had felt at the time of the attack, and unable to find the words to explain. “Someone tried to kill me…” You sniffed, snatching a wad of toilet paper from one of the toilet stalls to dry your face.

“I know, the police say I scared him off.” Wanda looked at you, so unconditionally in love with you that it made your chest ache. “It wasn’t me, Y/N.”

“I know.” You repeated, firmer this time. “The killer called me again last night at Kate’s house.”

“See, it couldn’t have been me. I was in jail, remember?” Wanda reminded, her caring façade temporarily dropping in lieu of proving her innocence. “But shit, how did he know you would be there?” She asked quickly.

“I don’t know.” You bit down on your lip, shaking your head. “But I’m sorry, for accusing you. I wasn’t in my right mind…”

“It’s fine, baby.” Wanda tentatively closed the space between you, wrapping her arms loosely around your shaking form. She pulled you in, resting your chin on her shoulder. “I would’ve done the same.”

Her lips pressed gently against your neck, then enclosed around the skin and sucked lightly. Her grip around your body suddenly tightened, the touch turning from sweet to lustful so fast it made your head spin. She trailed her mouth further up, leaving your skin damp against the cold air and making you shiver. The usual heat that accompanied her contact was nowhere to be found, and it abruptly dawned upon you that this was wrong.

“Wanda.” You murmured in an attempt to reprimand her.

Taking it as a moan, she continued on, her touch growing tighter, almost painfully.

“Wan-“ You pushed against her, only to find she wouldn’t budge. “Wanda, stop!” You felt claustrophobic in her arms and shoved her suddenly backwards.

She stumbled away, looking at you with a mix of hurt and shock.

“You still don’t trust me?” She could hardly contain the frustration in her voice, emphasised by her heavy breathing and burning glare.

“No, that’s not true.”

“Then what is it?” She spat. “You don’t want to be around me. Is there somebody else?”

“No!”

“You’re missing Yelena?”

“Yes- but as a friend!” You argued, desperate for a chance to speak, to explain yourself. “I just, I don’t want that right now.” You flailed your hands around, hoping she got the message in spite of your ineloquent explanation.

“I’m being too pushy.” She wasn’t as angry now but still had disappointment palpable in her expression.

“No, it’s just- it’s me, Wanda.” You sighed. “I need time, and considering everything that’s just happened, I think that’s more than reasonable.”

“It is. You’re right” Wanda exhaled and turned away from you. “I didn’t think. I’m sorry.”

Despite everything, you still hated seeing her like this, and reached out to grab hold of her hands. “And I’m sorry for thinking you were the killer. I regretted it as soon as I said it.”

Wanda nodded slowly, staring down at your intertwined hands. She opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted by the bathroom door slamming open. You quickly broke apart, and she looked up at you, slightly sadly, before muttering, “See you soon, Y/N.”

And with that, Wanda was gone, leaving you reeling in your thoughts with tear tracks still fresh on your cheeks. You opted to sit in one of the stalls and regain your composure before heading to your next class, listening numbly to the sound of people coming and going from the bathroom for the next ten or so minutes. Screw being late.

You were just about to finally leave when two new voices entered the room, both vaguely familiar but not enough for you to make your presence known.

“What if she did it?” You heard one say, voice ever so recognisable. “What if Y/N killed Yelena?”

“And why would she do that?” A second asked, exasperated but curious.

“Don’t you remember they used to be a thing? Maybe Yelena ended it and Y/N never got over the rejection.”

“But she’s with that weird girl now- right? Pietro’s brother.”

You frowned to yourself. You knew Pietro was much more popular than his sister, but the school’s general distaste towards Wanda had always upset you.

“So why would Yelena matter anymore?” The girl continued.

“Because Yelena was cool, and fun, and Y/N knew that being with her was probably the peak of her life. Waldo- or whatever she’s called- is such a downgrade.”

The other voice laughed cruelly. “That’s true. I think I’d kill myself.”

“Exactly, but teen suicide is out this year and homicide is a much healthier therapeutic expression, hence, Y/N killed Yelena.” She punctuated the last few words with a manicured nail tapping against the porcelain sink.

The reverberating click made you shiver uncomfortably, listening to their dumb theories and trying your best not to take it personally. But- that voice, it had finally clicked into place: it was Agatha. She was notoriously a wild gossip, still, you never knew she had it out for you like this.

“God maybe you’re right.”

You heard their footsteps head over towards the exit, their annoying voices diminishing as the door slammed shut. You were left in silence, marked only by water dripping somewhere from a leaky pipe, and the sound of wind whistling from the cracked transom above the door. It almost sounded like a whisper, luring you out of the safety of the locked stall.

Catching sight of your reflection in the mirror, you recognised evident tear streaks down your cheeks, accompanied by a general expression of annoyance. The whole situation, and the way your school had turned it into a joke, left you alternating constantly between resentment and anxiety. But there was no time to dwell on it, as you heard that dreadful whisper again…

“Y/N…” The word struck you like a nail through the eye. A stark confirmation that someone else was in here with you. But all the stalls appeared to be empty.

You could only hear the sound of your own rapid breathing, that same rhythmic drip and the haunting whistle of the wind, leaving you to wonder whether your brain was simply playing tricks on you in this tense state.

There was a long, morose pause, and then, “It’s me, Y/N.”

“Fuck no.” Terror flooded your face as you spun on your heel, noting that to get to the exit, you would have to walk past the row of stalls. You took a reluctant step forward, ducking under the stall to see nothing, then the next, and the next, until finally, the last stall. It was empty at first, and you considered that maybe you were really just going crazy.

But then, two feet stepped down from the toilet onto the floor in the final stall. You were paralysed, face drawn tight as the door began to creak open, revealing Ghostface clutching the same knife as before.

You swivelled on your feet, crashing through the door but feeling a hand grip onto your shoulder and tug you back. Bracing yourself for the eventual feeling of a knife digging into your back, you ducked out of the grip and barrelled straight back into him, sending you both crashing to the slippery bathroom floor. You were able to launch yourself up before the attacker, and launched yourself through the exit before he could grab hold of you.

Without looking back, you sprinted through the hallway, ignoring the questioning look of a teacher you passed and heading straight for the principal’s office. You knew that only the top authority would be able to help you out. Nick Fury was perhaps the most intimidating teacher you had ever known, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he were to track down and kill Ghostface himself.

You burst through the door to his office, being met by two students holding ghost masks in the middle of a berating.

“He’s here… I saw him.” You sobbed out, hysterical but unashamed of your reaction. “He’s here…”

Fury rushed towards you, placing a comforting hand on either shoulder to ground you. “Where? What happened?”

You gulped back a sob, attempting to form some comprehendible recount of the events. But you couldn’t bring yourself to. All that replayed in your mind was the realisation that this was your new reality. There was someone after you, who clearly wouldn’t stop until you were dead.

Fury gave up on getting any coherent answer from you and called the cops, who arrived promptly having been stationed outside. They searched the girl’s toilets and found no evidence of any attacker lurking there, but assured you full protection from now on, starting with Tony Stark escorting both you and Kate home immediately. She was pulled from class, and you were told to wait outside while they finished one last sweep of the building.

Sitting next to Kate on a bench, you were finally able to catch your breath, and took the opportunity to briefly explain to Kate what had happened, refusing to dwell on your conversation with Wanda, or the rather unpleasant end of it.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t the only one listening.

“Attacked, again?” Pepper revealed herself from inside an inconspicuous-looking van, clearly having been waiting and watching for something to happen.

“You were spying on us?” Kate exclaimed incredulously. “Surely that’s against the law…”

“No, just good journalism.”

“Hey, hey!” Tony arrived at the perfect moment, clicking his fingers at Pepper. “You, you’re not supposed to be here.” As much as you trusted Tony for protection, you could see how his eyes trailed over Pepper distractedly.

“For a police officer, you don’t have the best focus,” Pepper smirked, seeing his wandering gaze.

You rolled your eyes at the interaction, feeling a flush of anger towards Tony.

“Well, I’d say it’s because you’re much prettier in person.” He replied, ever the flirt.

Pepper was about to respond, but never got the chance to. There was a sudden crackle in the air, signifying the PA system had sparked to life.

Nick Fury’s sombre tone filled the air, as you all stopped to listen. “Your attention, please. Due to the recent events that have occurred and until it comes to a resolve, effective immediately, all classes are suspended till further notice.”

Despite being outside the building, you heard a schoolwide cheer from inside, imagining the shared joy amongst everyone regardless of the dire circumstances.

“The Westview Police Department has also asked me to announce a city-wide curfew beginning at 6pn.” Fury finished, to which you heard a palpable boo from inside.

“Boy, you people sure do make a fuss over a serial killer.” Pepper sighed humorously.

“Technically, not a serial killer yet.” Tony folded his arms. “Gotta knock off a couple more to get that title, so he’s just a plain old murderer.”

“For now-“ You snarked, feeling your patience draining away from you.

The bell rang out, ending school for the foreseeable future, proceeded by the stampede of footsteps as students rushed out of the building, celebrating their early release. You and Kate stood up, ready to go when you caught sight of Wanda and Pietro.

Unwilling to leave things as awkwardly as you had, you told Tony to wait for a minute and jogged over to her, with Kate following behind.

“Is this cool or what?” Pietro appeared enthused by the sudden closure of the school, slinging an arm around Kate’s shoulders as he always did.

“For once, Piet, drop it.” She chastised.

“Okay,” he rolled his eyes, “but whatever you did, the entire student body thanks you.” He said, nodding at you with an impish smile.

“What happened?” Wanda questioned, glancing between you and her brother. “Were you attacked again?”

“Yeah, right after you left.”

Her mouth fell agape, then shifted into a harsh line. “And you don’t think I did-“

“No!” You were quick to assure before her concern was fully voiced. “I don’t.”

“Well, to celebrate this impromptu fall break, and Y/N admitting my sister’s innocence, I propose a party tonight.”

“What?” Kate turned to her boyfriend, aghast by the suggestion.

“Tonight, our house.” He confirmed, winking at Wanda.

“Are you serious?” You laughed in disbelief at his uncaring attitude.

“Our parents are out of town. It’ll be like my hurricane bash last year.” He stated, trying his best to convince the two of you that this was a good idea. “Nothing extreme, just a few of us, hangin’.”

“I don’t know Piet.” Even Wanda looked unconvinced, though Kate seemed to be warming to the idea.

“I guess safety in numbers…” Kate turned to you, seeking approval. “What do you think, Y/N?”

In spite of everything happening, you agreed that you would be safer in a larger group of friends. The police had hardly been effective in stopping the attacks so far, and Tony’s presence did little to assuage your constant fear. Not to mention that you rather owed it to the Maximoff twins, having unfairly convicted them before considering all the facts.

With this realisation, you nodded timidly. “Yeah, sure… whatever.”

“Alright.” Pietro rubbed his hands together connivingly. “See you guys at 8 pm sharp. Bring food.”

Wanda smiled at you warmly for the first time since this whole situation had begun. It gave you hope, motivation to go through with this party tonight. You had missed the genuine happiness in her expression and would do anything to earn back her adoration, to make her forget any of your accusations and assumptions.

Still, as Kate linked her arm with yours and spoke continuously about the plans for tonight, you couldn’t help but feel that this was about to be a huge mistake…

...

As predicted, Tony was far from happy about the party organised that night, giving you a lecture on all the possible dangers as he drove you back to Kate’s. But you knew him and knew that he was way too concerned about his reputation to cancel the get-together. He dropped you home with one final warning, asked for the address just in case, and then left you for the evening. To your relief, officers were already stationed outside the Bishop household, though it would make sneaking away for the night a lot harder.

Still, Kate seemed undeterred, already applying makeup and straightening her hair by six.

“Are we seriously doing this?” You muttered, laying on the bed staring impassively up at the monotonous white ceiling.

“Yes, we are.” She affirmed. “Because, trust me, you’ll be safer surrounded by a load of drunk, pubescent boys. Hell, they’ll probably track down and kill Ghostface themselves.”

“And what if Ghostface is already there.” You sat bolt upright, the image of his infamous mask flipping to the forefront of your imagination.

“Well, we’ll see that obnoxious costume from a mile away.”

“Out of disguise, Kate.” You sighed, collapsing inwards on yourself. Anxiety was sweeping across your body, a cold breeze which rendered you paranoid and entirely unwilling to attend the party tonight.

“Then make sure you’re never by yourself.” She answered quickly, eager to soothe your worries. You could tell she was excited for the night, always one to stay at a party even after everyone else left. “I promise I won’t leave your side, even if Pietro wants to make-out or whatever.”

You grimaced at that image.

“And I bet Wanda won’t want to leave your side.” She added. “That girl is crazy about you, and probably willing to throw herself in front of the killer to save you.”

“Not after how I’ve treated her…” You murmured, recalling the hurt she seemed to be holding onto.

“Nobody can blame you for that, Y/N.” Kate abandoned her place in front of the mirror to sit beside you. “I would’ve done the same if it’d been me and Pietro.”

“But it’s not just that. I can’t relax around her.” You threw your hands up exasperatedly and exhaled, debating whether to bring the topic up or not. “Whenever she touches me, I freak out.”

There was a pause of silence, in which your words swallowed you into a pit of embarrassment, one you were about to retract.

“So what? You have a few intimacy issues, and all this murdering probably doesn’t help.” Kate shrugged. “No big deal. You’ll get there eventually. And Wanda will wait.”

“But she’s already been so patient with me, Kate.”

“Yeah, It’s Wanda. Your girlfriend. Probably the most caring, perfect person I can imagine for you to be with. And virginity intact or not, I’m sure she won’t let you get murdered.”

You snorted, submitting to Kate’s humour over your constant doubts. “You’re right.”

Three knocks against the door interrupted your conversation. You held your breath, inexplicably tense despite knowing that murderers were hardly the type to knock before entering a room.

“You guys decent in there?” The muffled yet unmistakable voice of Tony Stark called out.

“Yeah…” Kate answered as the handle twisted open. “Hey…” She greeted confusedly.

You frowned, equally unable to understand why Tony had returned…unless… “Have you guys heard anything from my dad?” You asked desperately.

Tony shook his head. “Afraid not, kid.”

You sunk back into the bed, any hopes of familial safety having been immediately squandered.

“But good news is you’ve got me as your personal bodyguard tonight.” He finished, folding his arms.

“What?” Both you and Kate echoed at the same moment.

“I took the evening shift stationed outside the house, so no need to sneak out, but” he held up a stern finger, “only on the condition that I go with.”

“No.” Kate screwed her face up. “You’ll ruin the whole night.”

“Firstly, offensive.” He pointed at Kate with a sneer. “Secondly, I’ll be staying outside the house unless there’s screams and such.”

“Fine, deal.” You waved off the list, indifferent about his attendance.

“Thirdly…” He continued. “Pepper is coming with.”

“What!”

“She’ll definitely ruin the night,” Kate repeated.

“No Pepper, no deal- and I tell the police about this little rendezvous planned for tonight.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s unfair” But seeing no compromise, glanced at Kate and saw the same muted displeasure. “But fine. Why does she even want to come?”

“Says it’s a journalistic hunch.” He shrugged, nonchalantly leaning against the doorway.

“And why do you want her there, Stark?” Kate sent a look your way, already well aware of why Tony would want the company.

“I thought a stakeout might be a good first date.” He answered in full honesty.

“It’s not.” You shook your head in disbelief at his antics. “Still, as long as you keep your business separate from ours, I see no issues here.”

“Alright.” His lips drew into a taut line. “Pleasure doing business with you both.”

...

The irony of showing up to an illegal, out-of-curfew house party in a cop car didn’t escape you. Nor did it make you feel any less uncomfortable. The Maximoff’s house was right on the edge of town, surrounded by nothing but empty fields as far as the eye could see. It was isolated, perfect for parties but likely terrible for your own safety. There were no streetlights to illuminate potential Ghostface killers, and with the sun setting in the distance, you doubted the orange hue that currently permeated the sky would stay.

The only other source of light came from inside the house itself, accompanied by a general ruckus and music blaring. You were late, and as such, a gathering of cars were already littered across the driveway, though you doubted their owners were intending on staying sober. At that moment, you decided that you would certainly not be getting a lift home with anyone besides Tony tonight. The celebratory atmosphere from school closing early still lingered in the air, meaning that tonight was probably going to get way out of hand. Especially if Pietro had anything to do with it.

Tony dropped you off with a word of warning, then pointed out where he and Pepper would be stationed for the night, further down the driveway and out of sight. You shuddered at the mention of Pepper’s name, or rather, the fact that she was your line of defence for the night.

As you and Kate approached the front door, which was left open for anyone to enter, the house loomed over you menacingly. Its shadow fell across your face, blocking out the last rays of sunset and encompassing you in artificial lighting. You rarely visited Wanda at home, finding her parents were often absent and your dad refusing to drive you over there. As such, your attention was instantly diverted upon stepping foot inside. Your vision traced up the staircase, wondering whether it would lead you to Wanda’s room- a place you had surprisingly never ventured to.

Resolving yourself to finding the room, you turned to inform Kate of your plans, only to see she had disappeared. Most of the activity was coming from the kitchen, where you guessed she was greeting people, entirely unaware that you had already slipped away.

Shrugging off the momentary irritation at her having broken her promise so soon, you went over to the staircase and began to climb upstairs. A couple of people were standing on the landing, engaged in a heated discussion away from the rest of the party. They didn’t even notice you slip past.

All the doors were shut, and all looked identical, though you remembered Wanda having mentioned that her room faced the fields behind the house. So, you went towards the door that matched her description, twisting open the handle slowly as to warn anyone inside of your arrival.

You guessed correctly, and were met by a bedroom littered with posters and pictures- some of you. The overhead light was off, leaving a string of fairy lights scattered across the walls to brighten an otherwise dingy room. The air was still and dusty. Previously undisturbed particles swirled about your like an ocean, parting only for you. A scented candle burned peacefully on the windowsill, the smell reminding you of your girlfriend. A sudden ache arose in your chest, encouraging you to leave the room and find her.

“You shouldn’t be in here.” A stern voice sounded from the doorway.

You jumped, your heart beating an irregular pace as you swivelled round to see Pietro. The light of the corridor filled the space around him, casting an ominous silhouette over the bedroom. His expression was angry- serious, and unmoving, so far from the Pietro that you knew and liked that it made you exceedingly uncomfortable.

“Sorry.” You stuttered out, taken aback by his newfound seriousness. “I was just leaving- looking for Wanda.”

“She’s just gone out to get more drinks.” His rigid features relaxed a modicum. “She’ll be back soon.”

You watched as he held the door open, ushering you out. More than willingly, you headed over, only stopping once the door had shut behind you as a sudden realisation struck. “But she can’t drive?”

Pietro paused for a second. “There’s a bus to town every half hour, the stop is at the end of the road.”

“She’s getting the bus alone at this hour?” Fear began to rise throughout you at the image of your girlfriend trapped with a bunch of strangers, and perhaps a murderer. “Also, there’s a curfew.”

Pietro scoffed, his signature smirk returning as he brushed you off. “You worry too much. She’ll be fine!”

You found yourself quickly irritated by his casual demeanour, and snapped, “You have a car, why didn’t you go?”

“Because I am the life of this party, and I’m still a learner driver.” He shook his head, turning away from you to make his way back downstairs.

“That hasn’t stopped you before.” You yelled after him, though it was too late.

Pietro skipped back downstairs, and you reluctantly followed.

“Hey, Y/N!” Peter squeezed through the doorway, stacks of VHS tapes balanced precariously between his arms. “How are you doing?” He asked eagerly.

You dashed forwards to grab onto some of his video tapes before the stack fell down. “I’m alright, all things considered…”

“Thanks- and yeah, I’m surprised you’re here.” He looked at you, concerned. “But I thought to try and keep things calm, we’d make it a Blockbuster night.” He explained, indicating to the VHS collection he had travelled with.

You glanced down at the top three he had passed to you, recognising all the titles as horror films. “You mean a Jamie Lee Curtis night? How come she’s in all these movies?”

Peter placed the tapes down, gaping at you. “Cause she’s the Scream Queen!”

You scoffed. “With that set of lungs, she should be a-“

“Y/N!” Kate dashed over to you. “Where did you go? One minute I turned around and you were there, the next-“

“Oh, don’t worry, I was just exploring the house.” You interrupted, putting a stop to her panic.

“Ok thank god.” She sighed. “For a second there I was worried you’d been Ghostface’d”

You tried to smile but struggled still to find the humour in all this. “Not yet.”

“Not ever.” She stated, then became distracted by Peter’s VHS collection. You watched Kate enthusiastically flip through the familiar titles and found yourself wondering whether she had ever seen the side of Pietro you had just been exposed to. You couldn’t imagine she would’ve stayed with him if she had…

Despite the unsteady start to the party, you allowed yourself to be enveloped by the mundane sort of satisfaction that came with these kinds of gatherings. You ended up wedged between Peter and Kate on a disturbingly discoloured sofa, with Pietro on the other side of Kate. Several times you noted him glancing towards you, though you chose to ignore it and focus on the movie Peter had selected instead.

More familiar faces started to settle throughout the living room to watch the film, all sharing piles of junk food, beer and a joint occasionally passed around. For the first time since everything had kicked off, you felt normal, safe, and enjoying the company of friends. However, the longing for Wanda’s presence never ceased, and your eyes constantly darted towards the foyer, awaiting her inevitable return.

An hour or so later you began to worry that Wanda had yet to return.

Seeing your discomfort, Pietro tapped Kate’s leg. “There’s a bottle of wine in the basement that my parents were saving for a special occasion, why not grab that so Y/N can finally relax.” He fixed you with a pointed stare. “I can feel her anxiety from here. It’s giving me Ghostface blue balls.”

“Fine.” Kate rolled her eyes and stood up. “I’ll be right back.” She gave you a shyly comforting smile, then disappeared as instructed.

Pietro spread out to fill the gap, letting out a cocky, relaxed sigh as he glanced at you, knowingly mocking your anxious demeanour. On the other side, you felt Peter tense, noticing he was observing with a disapproving frown plastered across his face. Despite his unthreatening, wholly innocent appearance, you trusted Peter more than you did Pietro, and as such, sidled closer towards him. You weren’t sure where this sudden distrust of Wanda’s brother came from, nor were you willing to dwell on it. Instead, you fixed your attention to the TV screen ahead, numbly watching to dull your racing thoughts.

Before you knew it, the credits had started rolling. As Peter stood up to pause the tape, you realised suddenly that the vast majority of those crowding the house had vanished. All general ruckus had ceased, the party having come to an end much quicker than you expected. Usually, Pietro would ensure the party lasted until some ungodly hour, yet to your surprise, he had remained seated next to you the entire time, silent except for his occasional comments on the film. Your stomach twisted uncomfortably.

“Wait.” You shot bolt upright abruptly, another concern springing to mind. “Where’s Kate?”

Pietro hummed thoughtfully. “I don’t know.” He stood up, looming over you, then clapped his hands together as if something had only just occurred to him. “Sometimes the basement door gets stuck!” He exclaimed, then laughed manically. “She’s probably been stuck down here this whole time! I’ll go get her.” With that, he leapt over the sofa, thudding against the creaky wooden floor and jogging out of view.

With his exit, only you and Peter were left in the living room. He was crouched by the TV, returning the VHS tape to its rightful box, reorganising his collection.

“Peter.” Your voice shook, a reflection of the fear that currently filled your body. “Something’s not right here.”

He turned to you, confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean.” You threw your hands up, exasperated at his nonchalance. “Why’s it so quiet? Pietro’s parties usually like this.”

Peter furrowed his face. “Well, I’d guess most people are worried about the curfew.” He turned back to his tapes, selecting another to put on. “Overbearing parents… no buses running… They probably wanted to get going before it got too late.”

“Yeah but…” You exhaled irritably, wrapping your arms around your form for protection. “It just doesn’t feel right here… Like where’s Kate? Where’s Wanda? She left to get drinks before I even got here, and still isn’t back.”

Peter eyed you up. “If you want to go, we can leave now?” He stood up, expression growing grave with concern. In the dim lighting, shadows fell menacingly across his face, his posture tall and stiff, his care morphing into indifference. Don’t trust him, your instincts screamed. Don’t trust anyone.

He must’ve seen your distrust, the hardness in his gaze melting slightly “Y/N…?

“Y/N!” A different voice called.

You swivelled to the left to see Wanda lingering in the doorway, eyes flickering between you and Peter.

“Is everything alright, baby?” She stepped towards you, a softness in her outstretched arms which you craved desperately.

“Yeah.” You took her hand, interlocking your warm palm with hers, cold from the evening chill. You gulped, sensing Peter still watching you closely, creepily. “Can we go up to your room? Please?”

She grinned. “Of course. Seems I’ve missed the party anyway.” She scrunched her nose at you, then tugged you forward and lead you towards the staircase.

You spared one final glance back at Peter, who stood alone and vulnerable in the open space, a mix of jealousy and fear palpable on his face.

...

You lingered awkwardly in the centre of Wanda’s room before deciding to perch on the bed, turning to face her. She leant back against the door, and you heard it click shut, sealing your fate.

“So…” She started, then trailed off. “I’m sorry. I’ve been a selfish shit this whole time and I’m-“

“No.” You waved her off, settling into the comfort of the bed. For the first time that evening, you finally felt at peace, unwilling to be reminded of anything that might stoke your paranoia. “I’m the one that’s been over-dramatic and self-absorbed with all this- just…” You shifted uncomfortably. “I just feel like we haven’t properly had time to talk since this all began.”

“And that’s totally okay.” She assured quickly, practically leaping across the room to sit down next to you. “I don’t blame you.” She took your hands from where you’d been wringing them in your lap, dragging them to rest on her thighs. “I could never blame you.” She admitted, quietly, green eyes gleaming fondly as she stared up at you through her lashes, the gesture pure despite the layer of smoky eyeshadow that encircled her gaze. “Because… I love you.”

You gasped involuntarily, stunned by the confession. Your lips parted to form the words she desired to hear back, yet never got a chance to speak as her mouth landed upon yours. The kiss was soft and hesitant, her hair brushing softly against your jaw as she shifted closer. To rectify the awkward angle, you parted momentarily, swinging yourself over her body to settle in her lap. Immediately, she resumed kissing you, nipping at your bottom lip before sucking it into her mouth, tongue soothing the pain then slipping further to brush against your own. You couldn’t help but moan.

In response, Wanda allowed herself to fall backwards against the bed as you settled on top, straddling her, feeling hands slip underneath your baggy jumper and towards the clasp of your bra. You pressed yourself against her harder, encouraging her fingers to twist urgently and unclasp the strap. Hurriedly, you backed away to shove it off, tugging your jumper overhead with it. Without warning, she grabbed hold of your waist and flipped you over, reversing your position. She quickly did the same, removing her top to reveal a smooth expanse of pale skin. You longed to kiss every freckle, and appreciate every mark, yet found yourself paralysed in admiration.

Wanda smirked, then lowered herself back down to continue kissing you. This time, she moved slower, sensually, flicking her tongue against your lower lip teasingly. Her hand resumed its path up your side, eventually reaching your breast. She palmed at your chest, and you arched into the touch, giving her the chance for her lips to reattach at your neck. Her lips wrapped around your pulse point and sucked, hard enough to leave a bruise, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Her other hand slid down your stomach, your muscles involuntarily flexing at the feeling of her nail tickling against your skin. Her hand wormed its way underneath your jeans, not bothering to unbutton them, and towards your pants, pushing them aside. You moaned; eyes fluttering shut as her finger dragged its way…

A crash sounded downstairs, followed by a scream of pain. Your eyes shot open, yet Wanda didn’t halt at the distraction.

“Wanda.” You murmured, catching her attention.

Her lips had moved to your chest, which you felt her hum against in response.

“Did you hear that?” You asked.

Another scream sounded from downstairs, this time a muffled cry for help.

“Wanda. Stop! Can’t you hear that?” You exclaimed, panic suffusing throughout you. There was no way she didn’t hear either call.

“Hear what?” She said, faux innocently without meeting your gaze, then continued to lather attention along your collarbone.

“You need to stop.” You repeated, firmer this time. “Something’s happening downstairs. Someone needs help.” You shoved flutily against her shoulders, quickly becoming irritated by her carelessness.

“I’m sure it’s Pietro pulling some stupid prank. Just relax.”

“No.” Irritation turned to anger which turned to bravery. “I want to check.”

Her fingers curled suddenly, a wave of pleasure shooting through your core. “But you’re so wet, baby. Let me take care of you first.” Her voice was lost in lust, which had all but drained from you.

“Not now.” You gritted your teeth, pushing her harshly to the side.

Wanda finally broke away to stare at you impassively. “Fine.” She snapped, reaching out for her top. “Go on then.” Coldly, she turned her back to you, leaving you to gather your clothes.

The abrupt change in atmosphere left you stunned. You knew Wanda would be disappointed, but this newfound coldness was extreme- like you were seeing a whole new side to your girlfriend. You stared silently at her back, taking in the tenseness to her shoulders, the upright, frigid posture. Part of you longed to reach out, to melt the frigidity with your own body heat, yet you felt as though you couldn’t. As though a physical barrier had formed between you.

Instead, you sighed and began to dress, eyes darting around the room, anywhere except at her.

Standing up and brushing the hair out of your face, your eyes came to rest on the telephone sitting on the nightstand. As mundane as the object was, it brought a stark revelation to your doubtful mind.

“Who did you call?” You murmured.

“What?” Wanda twitched slightly, still refusing to fully acknowledge you.

“When you were arrested- you’re allowed one phone call…” You elaborated. “Who did you call?”

Wanda paused, answering as she reached back to grab her top. “I called my dad.”

Your mind and pulse were racing, worsening the swirling mix of emotions inside of you. “But your parents are out of town?” You stepped forward, hand resting on the doorknob.

“Yeah… and when I called no one answered.” She explained briefly, finally turning to stare at you, something dark twisting her expression. “You don’t still think it was me, do you?”

“No.” You corrected quickly, beginning to turn the door open. “But if it was you, that would’ve been a pretty clever way to throw me off the track.” The door creaked open, light from the hallway flooding into the dingy room. “Using your one phone call to call me so I wouldn’t think it was you.”

Wanda exhaled dramatically, then rose to step closer to you. “What do I have to do to prove to you I’m not a killer?” She implored, close enough now that you felt her breath fan across your face. Your gaze darted over her features; the softness to her lips, the smooth red colouring of her cheeks, the way her chin quivered almost imperceptibly, a telltale sign that she was anxious. Yet, the usual warmth that you felt in her presence was lacking, replaced by unequivocal doubt.

Before you could answer her, the door suddenly flung back from your grip.

You fell into the corridor as a figure cloaked in black shot past you, a flash of silver hidden amongst the dark mass. You scrambled to sit up, watched helplessly as Wanda was pushed backwards, watched as a steel blade rose high into the air before striking downwards. Watched red crimson blood splatter across the room.

You took in a shuddering breath, forcing your legs into action. You stood tall, your fear numbed by the sight of Wanda’s lifeless body resting where you had sat but moments ago. A growing pool of red was soaking into the sheets, dripping down the edge and staining the carpet.

Slowly, reluctantly, you turned towards Ghostface. He was still now, proud of his work. And as he looked back to you, masked head twisting curiously, you felt sick with rage.

Without wasting another moment, you were off. A horrific sense of Deja vu clouded your every movement as you tore across the landing and down the stairs, not daring to spare a glance anywhere but onwards. Instinct led you through the house, round the corner and crashing against the front door, frantically trying to twist it open only to find it wouldn’t budge. It was locked. Someone had locked you in.

A beat of silence passed as you realised that Ghostface hadn’t followed you.

For a split second, the house was eerily quiet.

“Y/N!” Peter emerged from one of the doorways, bruised and bloody. One hand clutched at his stomach, the other braced against the wall for support. “Fuck. You’re alive. We’ve gotta’ get out of here.” He winced, edging closer towards you, a trail of blood smearing along the wall.

“Y/N!” Another voice called. Both you and Peter turned towards the source of the noise. “Don’t listen to him.” Pietro appeared, stumbling down the last few stairs, equally bloodied and panting from the exertion of dragging himself along. “He’s lying.” Pietro gulped, shaking his head, tears forming in his eyes. “He attacked me.”

“No!” Peter exclaimed. “It was the other way round. You have to believe me, Y/N. Please!” Peter looked to you desperately, taking a wobbly step forward.

“Stop!” You exclaimed, frightened by your own urgent tone. “Neither of you come any closer.”

Pietro whined, thudding back against the wall. “Where’s Wanda…?” He asked, voice pathetically desperate.

You swallowed, a fresh set of hot tears welling up. “She’s dead.”

“Dead?!” Pietro echoed, marred by a mix of emotions you couldn’t decipher.

“She…” Peter trailed off, eyes wide and innocent.

“It’s Parker.” Pietro spat. “His movie nut mind has snapped. He’s gone psycho.” Pietro launched himself suddenly forward.

“Stay back!” You shouted, no real warning behind the threat.

Though, to your relief, Pietro listened. Both of them stood, barely a metre away and waiting for you to act. You trusted neither. A beat passed as you regained strength, coming to a conclusion about what to do.

“Is there another way out the house?” You asked.

Pietro nodded with barely a second to think. “Peter’s locked the backdoor and taken the keys, I saw-“

“No, I didn’t!” The younger boy interrupted, incredulous and frightened.

“But there’s another way out. A trapdoor in the basement. It leads outside.”

“Alright.” You nodded, gulped. “Lead the way.”

“No…Y/N...” Peter whined. “Please, we can’t trust him, it’s a trap!”

“Shut it, Parker,” Pietro growled through gritted teeth, then suddenly appeared to change tactics, snapping his attention to you. “You can’t believe him, Y/N. He’s lost it. Those graphic, violent horror films he loves, they’ve gone to his head. Go on! Ask him what his favourite film is!”

“It’s Aliens… But I hardly see how that’s relevant!” Peter’s eyes were wide and shining, brimming with tears. “Deep down I know you trust me, and you won’t let Pietro win, you won’t follow him into that basement…”

“I…” You began, taking in a shuddering breath. “I don’t know.”

“Come on Y/N….” Pietro dragged out your name, his gaze solely on you. “You can work it out.” He muttered. “Use that smart brain of yours Wanda’s always going on about… Peter’s in love with you, that’s why all his victims are your ex-lovers.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Peter exclaimed.

“But you can’t deny it.” The silver-haired boy continued. “You see the way he looks at you. The way he obsesses over you. He’s lost it. He knows he can’t have you, so no one can- and if that means killing you too then so be it!”

“Y/N I would never!”

“Oh, he would.”

“Shut it, both of you!” You finally chimed in, mind reeling with the information Pietro was pouring into it. You knew you couldn’t follow Pietro into that basement. But you also knew you couldn’t stay here with Peter either. You took a deep, steadier breath. “Ok here’s what we’re going to do. Pietro, you’re going to go down to the basement, wait by this trapdoor, if it’s really there. Meanwhile Peter, can you make it to the phone in the living room?” You asked, nodding towards the end of the corridor.

Peter was in bad shape judging by the pale colour of his skin, and the way he was hunched over in pain, yet he nodded enthusiastically.

“No…” Pietro moaned, bringing his hands up to clutch his face. “No, no, no!” He stood up straight, throwing his arms by his side to reveal an expression of petulant dissatisfaction. “That’s not how this is meant to go!” He yelled, suddenly, taking you by surprise as you stumbled against the wall.

“Pietro… what-“

“Y/N, you’re meant to go down to the basement!” He gestured out at you, movements frantic and irritated. “Where you see Kate- and oof, she’s real messed up.” He pulled a face, and, well, you didn’t have to fill in the blanks there. “While you’re distracted, Wanda comes downstairs and finishes off Peter and that’s where we have the big reveal!” Pietro laughed manically.

Your stomach dropped.

“Then, in an act of self-defence, you stab Wanda as I run upstairs and call the cops and ‘oh yes, officers” Pietro mocked, explaining his sick plans. “We need your help! It was Y/N all along, she faked it all! She has some sick, twisted fetish, murdering the women she can’t have- and Peter and I- we got in the way.”

Bile rose up your throat as you listened in, trying to fight back. “That never would’ve worked!”

“Maybe not by yourself, but here’s where we bring in Kate, who I tragically fought back against and won when I discovered this deranged reality. I’m, of course, devastated by this revelation. That the two of you worked together. The psycho and the pervert.” He said, singsong and mocking.

Footsteps echoed down the stairs, behind your field of view.

“He’s right.” Wanda’s voice was level as she descended, totally unharmed, and eerily calm in spite of everything occurring in her house, serving to confirm your worst fear. She was involved in this masterplan, lacking Pietro’s enthusiasm, but making up for it in the darkness that seemed to shroud her- your girlfriend.

“Anyways,” Wanda continued, “that’s how it should’ve gone if someone hadn’t messed up,” she growled, her frustrations tuned to Pietro. “I played my part perfectly, and you couldn’t hold the fort down for five minutes while I faked my death?” Wanda didn’t spare a glance at you as she walked past you to stand by her brother.

Your heart had plummeted into your stomach, and your body was racked by tremors. Your own girlfriend had been lying to you this whole time. She was a murderer- and Pietro too. He had practically confessed to either killing- or orchestrating the killing, of your best friend. And Yelena, poor Yelena too. She had been wrapped up in their web of psychopathic lies.

Tears burned their way down your cheeks. “But… why?” You tried to put on a brave face, you really did, but your voice shook.

“Why?” Wanda repeated, her face flashing hot with anger. “Why, Y/N?” She took a menacing step towards you, but before she could force her way into your personal space, Peter stumbled in front, placing himself protectively between you.

Wanda chuckled, though there was no humour behind the sound. She swivelled around, pacing over to Pietro as she spoke, “Because I know the truth. I know you never truly wanted to be with me.”

“W-what?” You stuttered out, placing a steadying hand on Peter’s shoulder as his injured body shook with the exertion of standing.

“Pietro never liked you.” She spat, changing the subject. “You know that, right? Nor Kate.”

Pietro grinned, cruel and horrifying.

“He’s a diagnosed psychopath. But neither of you knew that” Wanda continued, “and I bet you also don’t know that psychopathy doesn’t mean no emotions- like those shitty horror films suggest. He does feel things, he just doesn’t know how to react to them.” She shrugged, fixing you with a cold glare. “And so, when I came crying to him that I’d overheard Agatha Harkness talking in the girl’s bathroom about how you and Yelena were in love with each other, well- he just had to do something about that.”

“That’s ridiculous!” You interrupted, desperate to deny the rumours that seemed endlessly to plague you. “Agatha Harkness is the biggest gossip at our school. Just because she says something, doesn’t mean it’s true.”

“See, but I didn’t want to believe it, I really didn’t,” she continued, ignoring you. “But then each time, you pushed me away, it made me realise, she was right.” Wanda cocked her head, crying slightly, though you felt no pity for her.

Instead, you were angry: all of this from a rumour. “So that’s why you murdered… You killed people Wanda, because you were insecure?” You were enraged by her justification, the terror flooding your body having morphed into something much more brutal and unforgiving. “Ever heard of just breaking up?”

“Hey,” Pietro pointed an accusatory finger at you, “don’t talk to my sister like that! She deserves respect, which you’ve failed to give her this entire time.”

“And you…Pietro.” You shook your head. “You were just using Kate for some big revenge scheme. And for what? To make your sister feel better, to kill some people?” You mocked, no longer afraid to provoke the murderers. “What are you meant to be, the next Norman Bates? Only your mother’s never here so you had to fixate on your sister-“

The moment you finished speaking, multiple things happened at once.

Pietro, who had been simmering with rage since you turned on him, lunged forward, hands outstretched to enclose around your neck. He was blocked as Peter used the remained of his strength to barrel into him, slamming the two of them into the wall opposite.

“Y/N, run!” Peter yelled while you stayed paralysed by shock.

You flickered to Wanda, who looked a mix of surprised and devastated. A second later, she looked at you, suddenly understanding what Peter had said, and realising she would need to stop you.

Fortunately, you were a beat quicker and took off in the direction of the basement.

“Y/N!” Footsteps thundered down the stairs behind you. Like a landslide, deadly and unstoppable, Wanda wouldn’t give up until she caught up with you.

But you were faster. Adrenaline gave you strength, speed, focus. You spotted a trapdoor in seconds despite the dingy lighting of the basement, flickering and swaying as you rushed past the lightbulb hanging from the centre of the room.

As it swung, it illuminated a sight your eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to: Kate, her body bloody, slumped against the wall having been dragged into a seated position. You stuttered to a stop. Her face was peaceful, as though she were simply asleep, but not convincing enough to provide you with any consolation. Blood painted her pale cheeks, and you knew she had died in pain. At either the hand of your girlfriend- or arguably worse, her brother, Kate’s boyfriend.

“Y/N.” Wanda repeated, without the prior urgency.

You realised you had been still for a while now, paralysed by the dawning reality of your situation, or more important, the futility of your escape. You had to crane your neck upwards to see the trapdoor, and beneath it an unfortunate lack of stairs. You were doomed.

Wanda was panting beside you; the brief sprint having taken its toll on her. You now noticed the knife clutched in her left hand, its blade clean and shining- taunting you. It had yet to be used, and you wondered whether perhaps Wanda had saved it just for you, whether she had picked it out, thought yes, this is the one I want to plunge into the heart of my lover.

Your girlfriend was undeniably menacing in this state. Her chest was rising and falling, her whole body seeming to shrink and expand with each breath, blocking out the exit behind her.

And yet, you still weren’t scared.

“Is this the part where I beg for my life?” You scoffed.

In fact, you were angry.

“Only if you want to,” Wanda replied though she made no move towards you. “But Kate didn’t.”

So, that confirmed it: your girlfriend had been the one to end your best friend's life. You knew she had brought it up to get a rise out of you, get you to react in some way other than vengeful indifference, but you wouldn’t justify her with it. You could tell by the twist of her lips that it was driving Wanda crazy.

You swallowed. “What about Yelena?”

“That one was Pietro.” She answered. “God, did it drive me crazy knowing I wouldn’t be the one to end her life, that I wasn’t the last thing she saw in this lifetime. But I needed to be at your house, as an alibi, so you could trust me for a little longer. Girlfriend duties, am I right?” She rolled her eyes humorously.

You weren’t laughing, rather, you frowned. “Then why did you show up at my house and drop your secret mobile phone next time?”

“To confuse you, Y/N… I wanted you to doubt everyone, everything you knew- or thought you knew about people.”

You chuckled in disbelief. “You’re insane, Wanda.”

“I’m not-“

“Like your brother,” you continued, ignoring her protests, “you say he’s the diagnosed psychopath, but maybe you need to get checked out. Actually, while you’re at it, get your parents checked too. I’d love to know why I’ve never met them, let alone seen them.”

There was a pause: silence, and then, “You have.” Wanda gulped, your gaze tracing the movement. “You have seen them. When you arrived at the house and walked to the front door.”

Your furrowed brow was starting to give you a headache, but she was making no sense.

“They’re buried in the garden.” She clarified, gaze drifting around the basement, refusing to settle on anything in particular. She hummed, sad and low. “They died a couple years back, and… me and Pietro… we didn’t want to get put into foster care and separated. We just knew we had to make it work for a while.”

Your lips parted, though you had nothing to say. These had been the most emotionally exhausting days of your life, and you wanted them to end.

“But you were so young….” You said, distracted from the present by the sudden exposition Wanda was providing.

“Close enough to eighteen to improvise.” She shrugged, the movement causing the light to catch the metal of the knife, reflecting round the room in a flash of silver.

“Well, I’m sorry, I can’t imagine how difficult that must’ve been…” You sighed. “But it’s an explanation… not an excuse for what you’ve done, Wanda.”

As Wanda stood there, knife glinting in the faint basement light, something in her expression shifted. Her eyes, previously soft and vulnerable as she poured her heart out to you had become hard, filled with cold resolve. She leapt forward, the blade above you, ready to strike downwards.

In an act of self-defence, you pushed upwards, a hand closing around her forearm and halting the knife’s path.

She pushed down as you pushed up, though the effort was futile as Wanda’s whole body shook, unable to find the strength to plunge the knife into your head, which remained barely an inch away from the sharp tip.

“I can’t do this!” She announced, abruptly stepping backwards and letting you stumble to regain your balance. Wanda’s lip quivered as she looked at you, pain etched into her face. The knife she once held so confidently now seemed like a foreign object. “I can’t hurt you Y/N. I don’t understand! You have this effect on me, I…”

Before she could finish her rambling, you lunged at her, instinct guiding your fist into her enclosed palm, smashing the knife out of her grasp. It clattered to the floor with a metallic clang as you both simultaneously threw yourself towards it, struggling and grappling in a tangle of fear and desperation. You struck your elbow back into her face, hard, and she gasped. In the spare moment, you wrestled the knife from her possession and in one swift motion, plunged it into her side.

Wanda cried out in agony.

You dragged the knife out, ignoring the splatter of blood that followed it, jumping quickly to your feet.

Wanda stayed on the floor, rolling onto her back as her hands grasped at her side, attempting to stop the flow of blood pouring endlessly from the wound.

You choked out a sob, everything around you blurred except for the red soaking into the concrete ground beneath her. And then, you remembered: once this had been Yelena, once it had been Kate, and possibly now Peter. This was the second time this evening that you had seen your girlfriend die, only this time you hoped it stuck.

Wanda’s eyes were frantically searching yours, silently screaming for help as her mouth was agape, drawing in shallow breaths. Hurt and confusion filled her pupils… and something that almost resembled regret… But you didn’t have time to think about it. This was for all her prior victims. For all those that she and Pietro had murdered. You would be the one to escape Wanda’s clutches.

You turned back to the trapdoor, your vision finally adjusted to the dim basement light and spotting a ladder tucked in the corner of the room. You scrambled over to it, heart pounding as you dragged the structure across the room. It scraped against the floor, ear-piercing and loud. You hoped it wouldn’t draw Pietro’s attention, wherever he now lurked in the house.

Shaking hands gripped at the rungs, pulling yourself up with all the power you had left. You had no idea what awaited you above this underground nightmare, but you would never be more ready to face it. Slamming your hand into the trapdoor, moonlight flooded down into the room as you kept climbing up, away from the torment.

As your hand grasped onto the cold, solid ground outside, you could’ve sworn you heard Wanda’s voice echo faintly behind you, a soft plea. You halted, the urge to check on her almost convincing you to look back, but not quite.

Your second hand reached up, and you hauled yourself through the frame of the trapdoor and onto the grass, slightly damp between your fingers. It grounded you. This was real. You took in a breath of fresh air, feeling the cool night air fill your lungs and slow your pounding heart. After a minute, you stood, legs carrying you in the direction of Tony’s parked car further down the driveway, its white reflective paint like a beacon at the end of a long, dark path.

“Hey!” A shrill voice rung out into the night, one you dreaded to recognise instantly as Pietro. You glanced towards the source of the sound to confirm your worst suspicions, and there he was, jumper soaked with dark red blood as he staggered forward.

He was injured, badly, but giving chase as you sprung into action.

“Tony!” You yelled, legs burning as you bolted across the garden. “Tony!” You cried out again, this time catching the attention of two silhouettes sitting in the cop car.

Tony Stark and Pepper Potts frantically stepped out of the car as you drew nearer, their eyes widening at the sight of you sprinting, Pietro following closely on your heels. You could almost feel him reaching out for you, could imagine the cool metal of a knife drawing across your bare skin.

“Get down!” Tony shouted, drawing his gun.

You ducked to the side, and he fired a shot. You scrambled to your knees just in time to see Pietro dodge the bullet, ramming straight into Tony and sending the gun flying across the yard.

Pepper didn’t hesitate. She dived for the gun, rolled to her feet, and fired once, twice, her arm unwavering as she stared Pietro down. Tony jumped to a stand, untangling from the struggle as Pietro staggered, his face contorted in rage and pain, before promptly collapsing to the ground a mere couple of feet away from you.

His eyes never closed, his face never finding peace as more blood spilt out onto his jumper, no longer its original colour, but rather marred by different shades of red. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from his body, unable to truly believe he was dead, despite how his chest lacked the monotonous rise and falling movement that signified life.

It was over. And yet, you knew that, just like Pietro, you would never find peace.

...

Sirens blared as a never-ending stream of ambulances arrived, paramedics swarming the scene. Red and blue illuminated the house, arguably more imposing than the first time you had laid eyes on it earlier in the night. You stood frozen, your chest heaving as you watched the world fade into obscurity all around you.

And then, “Bring the stretchers! We’ve got one alive in here!”

You waited with bated breath, refocusing on the front door as the first stretcher carried someone out. Your immediate hope was that Wanda had somehow survived, but as you reluctantly remembered everything you had just gone through, you berated yourself for hoping for such a thing.

You stepped forward, away from the paramedic who had been fussing about you since their arrival, and over to the stretcher.

It was Peter: barely conscious, covered in blood and bruises, and impossibly paler since you had last seen him… Since he had sacrificed himself for the mere possibility of your escape.

“Wait!” You called out to the team lifting him through the threshold of the house, away from the brutality inside. “Let me…” Your voice broke off as you drew nearer, examining the true state of him.

They stopped momentarily, allowing you to reach out as if to brush the hair out of his face, then halting at the last moment. He looked so delicate in this state, so easily breakable.

Instead, you leant over, placing your lips gently against his forehead as you fought against a wave of tears threatening to spill.

Whether it was just imagination reassuring your frantic mind, you weren’t sure, but you could’ve sworn you saw the corner of his lips flicker upwards.

And in that moment, you realised something. If Peter was going to be okay, then so would you. Someday.

END :)

#wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff #yelena belova x reader #peter parker x reader

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qwimchii · 1 year ago

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𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭 (pt. 6) — 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺

playlist pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3 pt. 4 pt. 5 pt. 6 pt. 7 pt. 8 (10/24)

𝘨𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳!𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘹 𝘧!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 — 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘢 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘯, 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘸𝘦𝘴𝘵'𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘭𝘢𝘸, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘭 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘸𝘤 — 13.1k

𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦 — 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵, 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴/𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 — 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘸𝘦𝘴𝘵!𝘢𝘶, 141𝘨𝘢𝘯𝘨!𝘢𝘶, 𝘨𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳!𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵, 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘥𝘰𝘮!𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵, 𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘥!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 (10𝘺𝘳𝘴), 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘩𝘰𝘭, 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 & 𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦, p. in v, 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬, 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘴𝘦𝘹, 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬, 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘫𝘰𝘣, 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘧 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘶𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬, 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬 (𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘢?), 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 😵‍💫, 𝘥𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘺 𝘥𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘬 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯

note: i really hope this isn’t too angsty and confusing? also i noticed the atrocious amount of typos i had in the last part and holy moly... hopefully this one had less because i very lightly proofread it 😭 but if it does i am sorry (im really lazy about proofreading help 😵‍💫)….

two months later

you had not talked to Simon for two weeks. you had not even seen him for days.

the last time you did, it was late at night in the office.

most nights, just like days ago, you were up late working, rain pelting against the window where you typed at your desk, just the irregular patter of rain filling the empty office and the quick clatter of the character keys beneath your fingers. there was a sharp ache in your shoulders and you sighed, rolling them back and wincing at the cracks along your spine.

rolling your head back, you looked at the desk beside your own—painfully empty in the dim lighting.

as promised, one-four-one had filled the gaping power chasm within the western frontier, shifting headquarters to the capital of the west and buying several properties on every key corner of the sprawling city—much like the brand new townhouse you called an office.

not many rival gangs had stood up to the power shift because they couldn’t. widespread federal crackdowns had swept through the city. the anonymity of one-four-one had still been preserved—though over time, you had grown to doubt that—and one-four-one had won the war.

it didn’t feel like it though. it felt like you were in hiding all over again, but not from Turner’s men. it was the law this time.

now, at least, one-four-one disclosed all business endeavors to you.

you poured over their financial bookings. Simon had grumbled about it, saying something like it was dangerous for you to be so involved, but it didn’t matter much anyway. you were their main operation of business now, and all ordeals went through you… and your father’s saloon chain.

Kate implored, with the heat of the law breathing down one-four-one’s back, that they needed a legal guise for their illegal ventures. and you offered the saloon chain as an outlet so long that you would remain the major shareholder.

one-four-one had agreed and Simon, albeit grudgingly, with a grumpy disposition, had agreed.

but establishing a saloon in every town, city, and borough of one-four-one’s proved to be difficult, making Simon busy and you even busier.

eyes darting back down to the empty desk, you missed the vacant absence by your side nonetheless. rubbing at your face, you decided to call it quits, reaching over to turn off the lamp at your desk. the room plunged into darkness, and only the murky light of the moon seeped through the window.

a chill swept through the place and you couldn’t help but shiver, swiping away all papers and materials into the filing cabinet beside your desk when there was a knock at the back door of the office.

“who is it?” you called, sliding the drawers shut and wiping your palms against your dress.

when there was no response, you paused, craning your neck to peer at the door. through the opaque glass, you could make out a tall, shadowed figure at the door.

sighing, you snatched a revolver from your purse, cocking it just in case, and strode over to the door to twist it open.

“business hours are closed—” you began, looking up to the tall figure in the entrance, breath hitching when you saw a familiar scarred face.

Simon looked tired—more tired than you remembered him after two weeks. maybe older too, you worried, watching the downpour roar of rain slip off his trench coat. he just watched you with quiet eyes and a blank expression, swaying slightly in the doorway, which only worried you more.

“Simon—” you said, voice pinched as you reached out to him, then muffled a yelp when he suddenly lurched forward and pressed his wet body to yours.

your hand was still outstretched when he curled into you, big body bent down to wrap around your waist and pull you flush to him.

“missed you,” his whispered, pressing his nose into your neck, then kissing there. the water seeping through your dress made you shiver and he rubbed at your sides, like he was trying to warm you.

an overwhelming crash of confusion wracked you. Simon wasn’t due to be back for a while. at least a few more weeks. nonetheless, you twisted your hands into his clothes, amazed to find him solid and real in front of you.

“Simon. why are you here—?”

he pulled back from your neck and suddenly pressed his lips to yours, the kiss cold and wet from the rain, his stetson tipping off his head when he angled his head to kiss you deeper, messier, his teeth knocking into yours as his tongue dipped through your lips.

you muffled a squeak, trying to match the fast movements with your own, curling your arms around his neck and letting the revolver clatter to the floor. when his tongue brushed against yours, there was a rich and bitter taste in your mouth, and you gasped. alcohol.

you pressed against his chest and he pulled back with a disgruntled noise, frowning, before trying to kiss you again. but you pushed him away by his jaw and his frown only deepened.

“why?” he asked softly, brows furrowed.

you rubbed his chest, quelling the hurt look on his face to melt away.

“you’re drunk, Si,” you whispered back before gently tugging him towards the vacant chair in the office.

when he sat in it, the chair groaning under his weight, he tried to pull you onto his lap, fingers curling around the back of your thighs and tugging you forward. when you didn’t budge, he huffed, and jerked you forward with enough force that you fell into his lap with a yelp.

“Simon—!”

he curled you up into his lap, snaking an arm around your waist and the other up your chest, hand gripping at your shoulder to keep you locked against him. with a sigh, you let it happen, smoothing your dress free of its wrinkles Simon had just created. his eyes lazily followed the movement, nose pressed into your cheek and hot breath against your skin.

“pretty dress,” he remarked, squeezing you tightly. you just rolled your eyes.

you were about to give him a sarcastic quip when, voice deceptively soft, he asked, “why are you avoiding me?”

the breath left your lungs, and you went very still.

when you didn’t give a verbal response, Simon shifted beneath you, just winding around you tighter.

“supposed to be my wife,” he said, forehead sinking into your neck. his voice was so somber that you had to stifle a laugh of disbelief.

“you haven’t even proposed,” you reminded him. he just grumbled something you couldn’t hear, words smothered against your skin.

you didn’t know why you were avoiding him.

Soap had told you—very briefly during one-four-one’s inhabitation of san francisco—that it gets worse before it gets better. he had said it so briefly that you hadn’t know what he meant, didn’t really think it meant anything, until your life resumed in a new bustling city that felt impossible to get accustomed to.

now you know exactly what he meant. swallowing hard, you willed the thoughts away, burying them under a thick layer of bitter denial that Simon sniffed out like a hound.

“marry me then,” he offered, and you pinched the skin of his wrist.

“no. you’re not proposing to me while you’re drunk.”

he huffed out. “why not?”

you ignored him. “why were you drinking?”

when he was silent for a long moment, you smothered a smile of victory, feeling like you had won for some stupid reason.

then, he grumbled out quietly, “you were ignorin’ me.”

the smile slid from your face.

after a pause, you hiked up your dress, uncaring for indecency when you twisted in his hold, hooking your thighs around his in the chair. he gripped your hips tightly, looking up at you with hooded eyes. the small, unpleasant twist of his lips soured any warm feeling in your chest.

“m’not ignoring you,” you said softly, reaching up to brush the tangle of his blonde hair from his brow. his hair was getting too long now—the close shave on the sides of his head shaggy and unkempt.

he looks pretty anyway, you decided dreamily, kissing his forehead gently. his hands slid up to your waist, gripping you tighter.

“feels like it,” he grumbled and you suppressed a smile.

“sorry,” you said, the ache in your chest only swelling when you noticed the crestfallen look in his dark eyes.

“i’ve been busy,” you admitted, rubbing a comforting hand over his chest.

he just pulled you closer, forehead knocking against your shoulder. his hands crept up to your upper back now, clutching at your dress.

“so have you,” you pointed out.

he mulled in silence, hands sliding back down your torso, a shiver wracking you in his hold. then, he dropped his hands to your legs, fingers brushing over your legs as he edged up your dress, hands sliding beneath the fabric to play with the hem of your drawers. the leather of his gloves was cool against your skin.

“Simon,” you chided, blushing when his fingertips slithered beneath the fabric.

“missed you,” he reiterated, grip firm on your upper thighs as he pulled you tight against his hips. the blush bloomed across your ears and neck when you felt his hard arousal beneath his pants.

“not in my office,” you hissed, and he grumbled.

“you were gonna shoot me,” he complained, picking his head up to glare at the revolver that lay forgotten across the carpet floor, just by Simon’s fallen stetson.

you rolled your eyes. “i was not gonna shoot you.”

“you should make it up to me,” he interjected, voice a seductive, low rumble.

with another roll of your eyes, you swatted at him, pulling off his lap despite the string of expletive protests that left his lips.

you knew him too well to be fooled by his manipulative seductive tendencies. instead, you gathered your items and your purse, ignoring his big, sukling body beside yours. when he tugged at your dress, and you ignored him again, he made a sad noise.

upon observing the dark cloud of disapproval that roiled off his body, and the deep scowl on his face, you promised, “later Si.”

at that, he perked up, looking hopeful as he followed you to the back door of the office. you picked up your revolver on the floor and shoved it in your purse. opening the door to the pouring rain outside, you sighed, wishing you had an umbrella as you craned your neck out into the night.

instead, Simon picked up his stetson from the floor and pushed it onto your head. it was too big on you and tipped forward, concealing your vision of the city streets. at that, he huffed a laugh and drew you closer, hitching up his coat so that you were tucked beneath his arm and the flap of his trench coat.

“lead the way, lovely,” he said, voice tinged with an amused lilt as you frowned, tilting his hat back so that you could see as he led you down the little steps from the office and out onto the street—bound for his horse by the cobbled sidewalk, the black stallion stomping in the rain. bound for home.

looking over at Simon whose eyes were trained ahead, you took in his content, handsome profile with a greediness, only realizing just then how much you had missed him. down to the very bones of your body, you had missed him.

just then, you couldn’t help but feel that you were already at home in his arms.

but that was days ago.

Soap had ridden into the city with a panic that same night, roving around to find that blonde brute of yours, he had explained in the comforts of your new, big apartment. the third place he had looked was your home, and you had tried to hide the flush of your skin behind the cup of tea you sipped.

he had explained that Simon had gone home prematurely without a notice, too drunk to reason through with things. too drunk to be able to quell how much he missed you.

with a sinking feeling, you had come to acknowledge with a tinge of guilt just how much you had been neglecting him. not that it was your responsibility to take care of him in the first place. you weren’t married.

though, after everything, that didn’t seem to matter at all. you were completely his anyway.

with a wince, you couldn’t help but wonder, was he yours as well? could you even dare to wonder if your relationship was an equal give and take? if it was anything more than a silent power imbalance?

eyes darting from Soap to your open bedroom door, you eyed the large lump beneath the blankets of your bed. you hadn’t even done anything upon arrival at your home. you had pushed him toward the bedroom and he had sunk down into the mattress, exhausted from his long ride to san francisco, and promptly fell asleep, thoroughly soaking your sheets.

you had let him sleep, content to lay flush by his side and tangled in his wet embrace, till there was a pounding on your door. you had opened it to find Soap dripping with water and looking just as tired as the hulking man who slept in your bed.

and there you were on the living room sofas with Soap, sipping tea as he explained that they needed to go back and finish taking care of things in arizona and mexico. then they would be home bound again. it was a promise.

once the sun crested the sky along the horizon, you gently shook Simon awake, looking confused and sleepy in the morning light.

he had gone without much reluctance—much more sober than the night before. a composed stoicism overtook him again and he was curt in his goodbye. so curt it made your heart ache.

he could barely look at you, brushing his gloved fingers gently against your cheek in a brief reminder of his deep, lingering affection, before he disappeared with Soap out your apartment. the only remnant of him was your drenched sheets and the soft smell of smoky ash and woods against them.

this was how it had been for months. it gets worse before it gets better, Soap had said to you when things had grown tense between you and Simon. you were managing a business. he was managing the entire western frontier through the business you managed.

was marriage an option anymore?

your mind chanted a quiet reminder that it wouldn’t be long before one-four-one would be in san francisco permanently. Simon’s stoic presence would be more resolute and then maybe, maybe, you could do something about it.

there were nights when you caved when he was home, staying just across the hall from your apartment, knocking at his door and desperate for his touch on your skin. he would always relent, picking you up and throwing you onto his bed, crawling over you and setting your whole body alight with sensual touches and long, breathless kisses as he fucked you through several earth shattering orgasms that had your nails scratching down his back, hands twisting his hair, sometimes biting down on his shoulder to try and quell the overwhelming pleasure of it.

you’d roll in the sheets for hours, tangled together until the sun came up after a long, pleasurable and sweaty night. there were always bruises left along your skin, a darkened splotchy purple against your hips where his had slammed into you over and over, making you see stars.

there were nights when he’d do the same. you remembered opening the door to him—half-naked and his bare, muscled torso on display, a scarred, discolored twist of skin over the side of his chest and shoulder that matched the skin of your own arm. there was always a tinge of plea in his voice, of desperation, as he edged you into your own apartment and you always, always relented.

you remembered being down on your knees for him for the first time, throat swollen and tight as he eased his cock down your throat, a gentle hand in your hair.

“thas’ it,” he had praised, voice slurred as he guided you through the unusual motion. your head slid up and down his thick, hot length that pulsed in your mouth, sucking him with closed eyes.

“look at me,” he had commanded, thumb pressing against your cheek and you had fluttered your eyes up at him, head feeling light and airy from the lack of oxygen circulating in your system.

“fuck,” he choked out, head tipping back at the sight of you, so small and obedient between his thighs.

it was just like this every time—mind blowing and unforgettable. content in his strong arms after every night of intense passion, your cheek pressed to his warm chest and soft, lulling whispers into your ear as he stroked your hair till you fell asleep to his random bursts of rambles about work, one-four-one, and you. soft, loving words about you.

he was always the most talkative those nights. in the morning, he would always be gone, and in the light of day, you’d half ignore each other for fear of…

you didn’t know what you should be fearing but you feared something so strong that you buried yourself in work and allowed yourself to be selfish. trying desperately to forget everything and always failing much to Yue-Yi’s amusement.

damn special privileges, you had hired Yue-Yi as a personal assistant after the majority of brothels had been shut down with the crackdown of law across the west. managing so many of her own personal clients throughout her life, Yue-Yi proved to be adept at organizing your busy schedule and especially adept at keeping you company when one-four-one was gone. when Simon was gone.

she reminded you to take care of yourself when you were overworking. you always countered by saying that one-four-one was working twice as hard, though with the incredulous look she would send you every time, you grew to become unsure of yourself.

and here you were in the present, days since you had “talked” to Simon though his mind seemed to be barely present underneath a veil of intoxication. days since Soap had whisked him back to whatever duties that lay east of san francisco.

you tried to ignore it all, taking long strolls through the park during lunch to avoid the hustle bustle of your office during the busy hours. you preferred to work in silence, but that proved difficult with the growing number of employers that were corralled into your business, no matter how perturbed they thought an unmarried woman as their boss.

you heard their gossips and whispers. they thought you were hiding a secret marriage with the prophesied ceo from them. Simon Riley. little did they know, their ceo was actually you. you didn’t have the heart to tell them that they were wrong and allowed them to continue thinking you were some favored personal assistant of Simon—just a typist and nothing more.

you only let a few men—vaqueros who knew good english with proficient math and business skills—into your secret, pressing real business matters to carry out into their hands. they never questioned it, and whether it was a command from Alejandro or not, you thought of them as amiable acquaintances.

the fall leaves littered the path in the park on this day, your hands clasped behind your back as you observed the sun flecked surroundings. a husband and wife ambled through the grass as their children trailed behind, throwing up colorful leaves into the air with pitched laughter. immediately, you looked away from the sight.

that’s when you spotted a familiar man staring at you, splayed across a nearby bench in a fancy three-piece suit and ginger hair fiery in the sunlight.

you stopped in your tracks.

“Konig?” you choked, slowly edging toward him. he tipped his head to you with a smile that smothered something strange in his pale green eyes.

“pleasant to see you little lady.”

your mouth opened and closed and you would’ve sat by him if it weren’t for the thrumming, ominous instinct in you to stay away.

and you did just that, stopping a comfortable distance from the big man, his eyes never leaving you as he took a swing from a flask before tucking it back into the breast pocket of his suit.

“what are you doing here?” you asked, dismayed, wondering if you were hallucinating it out of your own loneliness.

he ruffled his hair, smile lopsided but eyes still flat and dead and cold. Konig had disappeared on the move into san francisco. he would reappear every one and a while, poking around in your business and checking on your well-being before disappearing all over again. it was frustrating and left you beyond confusion.

it left Simon seething because Konig would conveniently pop up in the midst of a random, bustling street, tell you with joy that he was staying just around the corner of your new apartment and make Simon sulk at the very sight of the austrian man.

“my employers in Austria,” he said with a tilted head, “they want me to stay in san francisco for business.”

your mind spun. business? assassin business?

your throat ran dry. “you won’t kill Simon, will you?”

the smile on his face was malicious.

“i already tried,” he said slowly, and you suppressed a shiver, remembering when Kate had told you that Konig had left Simon for dead in that fire but took you with him. saved your life.

“that british boy,” Konig said, brow furrowed like he was concentrating hard, “i do not like him, Engel.”

you sighed out, rubbing at your temple. “i know, Konig.”

when Konig only kept staring at you in silence, you decided to probe him with questions. “where have you been?”

you were surprised by the hurt in your voice. his brows only rose slightly. “san francisco—”

“what have you been doing?” you interjected, twisting your hands in your dress.

he stared at you for a long moment. “business.”

his voice dropped an octave. “and watching you.” then, he rephrased, “watching you and Ghost.”

you wrinkled your nose. not ominous at all.

“you care about him,” he observed lightly, looking away from you. a frown twitched at his lips and you sighed, gaining the courage to sit on the very opposite edge of the bench. though with his sheer size, he took up more than half of it, his arm splayed out over the back and his fingers pressed against your shoulder when you leaned back to look up at the clear, crisp sky.

“i do,” you confirmed, and he shifted beside you, picking up his hand to play with the ends of your hair.

“why? he’s an insufficient boy,” he grumbled and you couldn’t help the smile on your lips. you had never heard someone describe Simon as a boy, though sometimes, you couldn’t help but feel the same.

“i am an insufficient girl sometimes,” you countered, surprised when Konig shook his head.

“i have always seen you for what you are, Engel.” his pale green eyes flitted from your hair up to your eyes.

“capable.”

at that, you swallowed hard, but he continued on. “i want to stay in america. for you, little american.”

quickly, you countered, “you didn’t know me before, Konig.”

he shook his head again. “i don’t need to.”

there was a dizzying panic that rose in your chest.

“i’m not innocent,” you practically hissed, pinning him with your most intense gaze that he easily held. “i have mental issues. i don’t know who i am or what i want. i just want…”

your voice faltered. “Simon.”

then, you whispered so quietly that you almost couldn’t hear yourself, “i love him.”

the admittance of it was like a weight that slid off your shoulders, and you gasped a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

Konig had gone very stiff beside you, a pure look of something dark and angry twisting his face before it was swept away. he took his arm from you, letting your hair drop against your shoulders, sighing as he looked away.

“i don’t get it,” he grumbled.

you could only agree. “i don’t either.”

after a long moment of silence, Konig stood from the bench and whirled around on his heels, hands in his pockets and an easy smile on his face, though you could see the strain in his eyes.

“no matter. this will be the last time you see me, Engel.”

“i doubt that,” you said bitterly and his smile only grew.

“you are a business woman,” he said carefully, giving you a slight bow, “i am sure we will do business later in life.”

i’m counting on it, you thought, but didn’t voice as he turned on his heel and strode out the park with a confident step. your heart shrunk with every step he took. maybe you cared about him more than you realized.

you winced, trying to imagine how you would tell Simon about this strange encounter. then, you corrected yourself, reminding yourself that you actually didn’t need to tell him anything at all.

“excuse me!” a voice called from afar, and you turned to see Yue-Yi standing at the edge of the park, hands balled up by her side.

at the sight of her, a smile crept up to your face as she impatiently tapped at her wrist.

“you’re late for a meeting,” she hissed as you strode over. with a nasty look, she whirled around to trudge toward the office with a huff.

you looked back at Konig one last time, towering as he weaved around people who glanced at him with a wariness.

when he didn’t look back, you hurried to catch up with Yue-Yi, a strangled laugh escaping you when she quickened, throwing a mischievous look over her shoulder as you chased her up the steps to the office.

the meetings went smoothly. as usual. most of Turner’s men had been decimated or scattered, lost to the winds as they left western gang life for a mundane one. few changed sides to work for one-four-one. there wasn’t much threat to your livelihood now, especially now that there was a legal outlet for illegal activities. you implored one-four-one to set up a horse race betting system within each saloon—semi-discrete and something local law enforcers were a part of from time to time…

the rest of the day continued to go smoothly till it was late in the evening, nearing dinnertime, when you passed Yue-Yi typing at her desk. gathering the necessary papers she typed up, one paper by her typewriter caught your eye.

familiar, obnoxiously loud handwriting in all caps lined the top, addressed to YUE-YI from SIMON RILEY. you immediately picked it up, eyes darting over the paper, just reading the first few, formal sentences when Yue-Yi snatched it from your hand.

“didn’t anyone ever tell you it was rude to read someone else’s letters without permission?” she said with a scowl, wagging a finger at you.

you ignored her, reaching for the letter but she leaned back, crumpling it into a ball in her hand.

“Yue-Yi,” you whined, and she just rolled her eyes with a little smile.

“what is this about?” you probed, endlessly curious as to why Simon had written to Yue-Yi.

and not you, a slither of a whisper spoke in your mind. you grimaced. in all fairness, you never wrote to him either.

mulling by the edge of her desk, Yue-Yi sighed at the sight of you, lost and confused, as she resumed her work and lined up a fresh piece of paper at the typewriter.

“one-four-one is coming back tonight.”

you balked. “tonight?”

she shrugged. “Ghost addressed the information to me several days ago. the letter did not arrive till this morning. we will dine together at six o’clock.”

checking the clock on the opposite of the room, you bristled.

“it’s half past six, Yue-Yi,” you gritted out between a clenched jaw.

she stopped her incessant typing, giving you a brief glance full of impatience. “your meetings didn’t end till half past six.”

you groaned with frustration, stomping back into your office and moving past Simon’s vacant desk without even a glance at it—a bad habit that you had developed to somehow will him to return quicker.

not this quick, you lamented in your head, rifling through the wardrobe (for special occasions just like this) by your desk, undressing in your personal bathroom with quivering hands.

someone knocked on the door politely, a three beat rhythm you recognized as Yue-Yi, and with huff you tugged it open, not sparing her a glance out of your own frustration. she closed the door behind her softly, moving closer to undo the back of your dress for you.

you wasted no time to pin up your hair, eyes darting to hers through the mirror, flushing to find her gaze already pinned on you.

with a grumble, you complained under your breath, “how could you do this to me.”

she lightly smiled, helping you pull on the fine gown, exposing your neck and a glimmer of your collarbones.

“i knew you would’ve ran away if i told you weeks ago.”

grimacing, you chose not to say anything, remembering how you had done the same a couple months prior. but it was just once—Simon had written to you saying that he would be in town for the night, and you had written him back saying you were just too busy that night.

it was a lie.

oh how the tides had changed between the devil and his angel. it wasn’t out of your own revenge, but the gnawing fear wracking your bones and those simmering, painful questions running circles in your mind.

could Simon ever be yours?

it just wasn’t so simple anymore. maybe it never was.

Yue-Yi hummed softly as she pulled your corset tighter for good measure and buttoned up the back of your dress, smoothing it over before giving you a hug from behind.

“you look divine,” she said as you pulled silk gloves up your forearms.

“thank you,” you squeaked with a flush. she patted your sides before opening the door for you like a proper gentleman.

you curtsied for her and rolled her eyes, smacking your backside on your way out of the office as you squealed, and she laughed when you rubbed at your ass that stung beneath your gown.

moving through the townhouse, rooms of the place had been converted into work spaces, lined with desks of busy men with cigarettes between their lips that filled the room with a smoky haze. they paid you no mind as you followed Yue-Yi to the end of the hall, passing by the room of women typists who bid you kind goodbyes and waved as you descended down the spiral steps to the lobby.

there was already a horse and buggy stationed at the sidewalk with an impatient looking coachman, whose eyes darted between you and the watch in his breast pocket.

“do you women not know how to tell time?” he spat, and you gave him a narrowed side glance.

“it would do good on you to remember who your employer is, Mr. Busby.”

“that would be Mr. Riley, miss,” he shot back, opening the door for you nonetheless.

you ignored him but Yue-Yi didn’t.

“and you should remember that the miss is his lady,” she quipped, brow furrowed with a glare as she helped you up into the carriage.

that shut him up, grumbling something under his breath you couldn’t be bothered with as you slid into the leather carriage, Yue-Yi flush at your side as the coachman snapped the reins, horses taking off over the bumpy cobblestone road.

with a sigh, you said to her, “we ought to buy one of those fancy model t’s after today.”

she choked a laugh, clasping her hand with yours as you watched the passing scenery with a smile, though it didn’t last for long, melting from your face with every passing minute—every minute the distance between you and Simon closed.

the one-four-one mansion neared on the twinkling horizon, a good time’s travel from the inner boroughs of the sprawling city, far away enough from commotion where you could hear the soft drag and pulls of the ocean lapping at the shores. the mansion sat just near a cliff overlooking the pacific ocean.

the first night you had stayed for a formal event with important stockholders and other prominent figures involved in the family business, you had laid stock still in the ginormous bed, buried beneath blankets and thick, expensive furs, listening to the lulling roar of the ocean crashing against the cliff rocks through the open windows. a breeze danced through the room, brushing against your cheek so real and strong it felt like skin against your own.

blinking open your eyes, you saw Simon by the edge of the bed, his hand brushing over your cheek and hair in a mess like he had just awoken. without a word, he clambered into your bed, snaking beneath the blankets and pressed to you, bare skin hot to the touch and soaked through with sweat.

some words of concern had left you, some words you had forgotten now as you sat in the carriage, some words he had smothered with a sweet kiss. a kiss that you returned as you pushed him onto his back, shimmying out of your nightgown and undergarments with a practiced ease before straddling him, rolling your hips against him to pull gentle groans from his throat.

you leaned down to pepper kisses over his skin, sucking along his neck and his sharp jaw. then, with an earth shattering reminder of just how strong he is, he tugged your hips up his body till you hovered above his watering mouth, hot breath against your swollen cunt.

with a squeak of confusion, you had gripped at the fluffy pillows above his head, meeting his dark gaze as he pulled your pussy flush to his lips, guiding your hips over his face as he devoured your cunt, suckling your clit into his mouth till you were a shaking, crying mess.

it was strange and felt too dirty but your neediness betrayed you, just wanting more and more of him. even when he flipped you over, pliant and weak from a strong orgasm, and stretched your tight cunt open with his thick cock and low comforting words.

good girl. my sweet little angel, my sweet little slut. just f’me, all f’me.

you weren’t sure why it always ended up like this exactly—somehow tangled in each other’s bed and desperate for skin against skin, tongue and lips on each other, and his low throaty whispers in your ear that sent you reeling over the edge every time with breathy, pitched whines and his fingers rubbing addictive little circles into your clit.

shivering at the memory with a hot flush of embarrassment, you pressed your thighs together, taking your embroidered fan and flapping it at your face as the coachman drew the carriage up the drive-way to the mansion, the butler and servants lined along the extravagant entrance of the victorian mansion.

just beyond them, one-four-one filed out the doors of the mansion, Soap striding up to the carriage with a loud greeting. the coachman opened the door for you but Soap waved him away, outstretched his hand to you with a rugged smile.

you took it, holding the hem of your dress up as you stepped to the ground.

“yer a sight for sore een, bonnie,” he said with a big grin and you choked a laugh.

“sore what?” you asked as he kissed your hand brusquely, not elaborating as he moved to help Yue-Yi out the carriage as well.

you walked up the steps of the entrance, John and Kate calling out to you in greeting. your eyes darted over Gaz and Simon, looking like a pair of twin statues with the way their arms were crossed over their chests and a stoic look pinched their face.

you bit back a scoff, letting Kate pull you into a soft hug as John looked down at you with an affectionate smile, hands clasped behind his back. turning to Gaz, he gave you a curt nod which you returned.

eyes sliding to Simon’s, his arms dropped to his sides, hands clenching and unclenching, lips parting like he was going to say something, but Yue-Yi materialized at your back in an instant, and his mouth closed, jaw clenched.

“Yue-Yi,” he greeted with a nod. she just tilted her head in response, a menacing scowl twisting her lips.

the look they shared passed something between them that you couldn’t decipher—like a silent argument ensued in the air between them before he let out a low huff, sending you a lingering look, before he followed one-four-one into the mansion.

promptly, you turned to Yue-Yi.

“what was that?” you probed, and she completely ignored you, pushing you into the mansion with an impatient, hushed reminder that you were late.

you bit back your frustration, letting yourself be led by the butler to the banquet table stacked with half-eaten food and empty bottles of whiskey and wine, the vaqueros loud laughter and chatter filling the cavernous dining room. they all stood at your presence, which you protested with a startled squeak, sitting down in an plush chair near the head of the table where John sat, and right beside Simon.

Simon pushed in your chair with an ease, face blank as he plopped in the seat next to you, lacking manners when he leaned an elbow on the table, a tense silence filling the space between you.

desperately, you ignored it, grateful that Yue-Yi flanked your other side, and looked down to the other end where Alejandro, Rudolfo, Kate, and Maria sat, a raucous laughter and chatter ensued. it filled the whole room with an expanding joy that you rode—joining in on a few conversations across the table, hyper aware of the quiet, hulking man beside you sharing low murmurs with John and Gaz.

his hand crept over to the arm of your seat, long fingers hanging off the edge where he rested his forearm, fingertips barely brushing over your thigh. you shot him a look from your peripheral, but he was still braced against his other forearm, leaning over to speak in John’s ear, his face furrowed as he nodded along to Simon’s words.

across the table, Soap piled your plate with food, one hand spooning out generous portions from different platters and the other tipping back a glass of whiskey into his mouth.

with a sheepish laugh, you thanked him, happy to finally have a meal after such a long, exhausting day.

you took a big spoonful of mashed potatoes, chewing happily when a vaquero across the table pointed out you got some on the corner of your lips with a mix of sign language and a couple words in english. embarrassed you swiped at it, but he just laughed, saying something in spanish as he smiled at you.

then, you recognized him—his twinkling brown eyes and gentle smile, tanned skin, dark slick backed hair that parted and curled around his ears. handsome in a soft, pretty way.

“it’s you!” you exclaimed, happy to see a familiar face.

he nodded, pointing to himself. “i am Javier.”

“your name is Javier?”

he nodded again, then pointed at you. “you are Angel.”

with a blush, you shifted in your seat, changing the subject quickly. “how are you?”

when he looked confused, you tried to rephrase, “how are you feeling? good? bad?”

his let out an ah, eyes twinkling as he leaned forward in his seat. “good.”

then, he tilted his head. “escuche que eres la chica de Ghost. pero ya no lo parece.”

he was looking you up and down. “te ves tan bonita esta noche, Angel.”

his words were hushed, just loud enough so that only you could hear. there was a different, more intimate tone in them that had the heat in your cheeks just thickening.

“what?” you choked and his smile only widened.

you looked to Yue-Yi beside you, locked in conversation with someone on her other side, growing uncomfortable under the vaquero’s curious, lingering gaze.

you had thought that no one had heard when a strong arm had curled around your waist, dragging your entire chair across the floor with a screech so you were flush to his side.

“¿todavia parece que no es mia cabron?” Simon’s words were a low snarl that carried through the room and cut through the end of the other table. immediately, the room quieted, and Alejandro’s eyes darted up from his conversation, the smile melting off his face.

with a deadly amount of leisure, Simon threw his revolver on the table, eyes a glare full of challenge at Javier. you stared at the hard lines of his face and panicked, knowing he’d hold to whatever word he had just delivered if it was something as trivial as his male ego being threatened. especially if he thought you were being threatened.

when Javier reached for his own revolver beneath the table, you threw up a hand, standing to shield Simon.

“wait—!”

but Alejandro beat you to it. “Javier.”

Javier looked down the table at his leader that stood, hunched over and knuckles pressed against the table. Alejandro shook his head lightly, and Kate heaved a sigh, her cutlery clattering against her plate as she put them down.

“here they go again,” she grumbled distantly, blue eyes flashing when they met yours.

after a long pause, Javier finally leaned back into his chair with a huff, then turned his gaze to you once more.

“debo haberme equivocado. lo siento Angel.”

the smile on his face was deceptively soft, eyes never leaving your wide ones as he spoke, and Simon’s grip only tightened on your waist.

“Javier,” Alejandro repeated, sounding impatient, though Javier’s gaze on you was unflinching.

for a long, terrible, twisted moment, you watched Simon’s hand twitch by his revolver before it curled into a fist, and he sat back against his chair with a thud and a low grunt. finally, Javier looked away, and you sunk back into your chair, gasping a breath you didn't know you were holding.

at that, Alejandro straightened and held a bottle of whiskey up into the air with a smile.

“no need to fight my brothers and sisters. we’re here to celebrate our victory, vaqueros and vaqueras!”

at that, the table cheered and resumed its festivities, retopping their drinks with a tipsy hand so that their drinks fizzed over with liquid that soaked into the tablecloth. then, Alejandro gestured his bottle to you, meeting your eyes, mouthing out the words so that only you and Simon could see.

“to the devil and his angel.”

he took a big swing of the whiskey bottle, and the muddled feeling in you only sunk, jolting when Simon pressed his lips to your ear.

“sit in my lap,” he commanded and you shot him a glare.

“you haven’t talked to me all night,” you hissed under your breath and he narrowed his eyes at you.

“you haven’t either,” he countered, which you thought was rather immature as you looked up at him with a pinched expression.

with a little yelp, you jolted when his hand lazily slid around your throat. “and i wasn’t asking, princess.”

swallowing hard, you let him pick you up and drop you in his lap, curling both arms around you in a vice, chin tucked over your shoulder. you told yourself, chanted to yourself, that you were doing it to prevent any further bloodshed already spilled between the men and women of the room, your eyes darting over Kate and Maria flush together at the end of the table.

you clutched at Simon’s strong arms, leaning back into his massive body, turning your cheek so that your forehead was against his jaw, closing your eyes.

“sleepy?” he offered, voice gruff in your ear. gently, he kissed the lobe of your ear, and a resolute ache wracked your chest.

you realized, in his arms, this was the first time in multiple days since he had held you. you reached back to clutch at his neck, sinking into him.

“mhmm,” you hummed, grateful that Gaz and John ignored the pair of you in their own conversation.

then, he kissed your neck softly. “i can take you to bed.”

the suggestiveness of his words don’t go unnoticed. “now?”

“no one will say anythin’,” he promised, already pushing you off his lap softly. even if half the table watched you disappear through the rooms of the mansion with Simon’s arm wrapped around your waist, you found yourself completely uncaring, just nuzzling closer into him.

once you were both completely out of sight, he hooked an arm under your knees and carried you up the stairs and into a random room shrouded with darkness, the blankets and furs soft against your back when he laid you out over a bed.

you watched him undress in silence, undoing his vest and then his button up before you heard the clink of a belt in the dark and his dress pants dropped to the floor. he crawled over to you, completely bare for your greedy eyes.

“let me?” he asked softly, finger hooking in the low collar of your evening gown, and you nodded, letting him sit you up and unbutton the back of your dress. you tugged it over your head, uncaring that it crumpled the fabric, and flipped your hair over your shoulder, turning so you offered your back to him.

when he made no move to your corset, you sent him a confused look over your shoulder, lips parting at the sight of him breathing shallow, and swollen, veiny cock pressed against his thigh.

he edged forward with a low curse, kissing your shoulder as he untied your corset expertly, too expertly now, with a clumsy rush, your breasts bouncing when he practically ripped the thing from your torso.

a gasp escaped you when he bound an arm around your chest, kneading at your breast while his other hand tugged at the hem of your drawers. you lifted your hips, awkwardly shimmying out of them in his tight hold. he tore it the rest of the way down, and you chided him with disapproval that he ignored, arms squeezing you tight to his muscled, warm chest.

you could feel his feverish cock pressed into the curve of your ass, and you reached down blindly to stroke him but he grumbled out something like a no, burying his face into your hair and neck as he just held you there in that awkward position.

you clutched at his arms, feeling the muscled strength of them tense beneath your touch. “Simon?”

he hummed distantly, pressing pleasant kisses to your skin.

“i need to show you something,” he said, untangling himself from your body for a brief moment to step away and search for something on the floor. he took something from the pocket of his discarded pants, silvery and shiny in the dim light as he crawled back onto the bed and pulled you flush to him once more.

he looped both arms in front of your chest, the silver thing dangling in the air in front of your face.

you gasped at the sight of the pink jewel embedded in an ornate silver casing—dazzling even in the low light. it wasn’t unlike Simon to bring you back trinkets and small mementos from his travels, though they were always discrete, left on your nightstand after an intimate night, or the kitchen table in your apartment.

this was the first time he had directly presented you with something so romantic.

with a content hum at your reaction, he clasped it around your neck, pulling your hair out from under the silver chain, pressing his lips along the necklace against your skin. the contrast between its cold metal and his hot kisses left you shivering.

“what is it?” you asked in wonder, clutching at the jewel against your chest.

“pink tourmaline,” he slurred against your skin. you met his half-lidded gaze from over your shoulder.

“s’my birthstone,” he said, voice deceptively soft as he reached around to toy with it in your fingers. a heat slithered down to your core, and you had to clench your thighs together to stave off the aching pressure of it.

the act was so possessive it left you hot with delirium.

physically branding you as his, a happy voice sung in your somewhere, though the logic of your mind swatted at it, reminding you this wasn’t how you wanted it.

you bit down on your lip, feeling conflicted as you stared down at the jewel in his fingertips.

when you didn’t respond to him, Simon gently pressed you onto your back, sliding over your body to study your face with a blank expression.

“what’s wrong, lovely? you don’t like it?”

you shook your head, reaching up to cup his cheek. “no. i like it. it’s just…”

he tilted his head, eyes flitting down to your exposed, swollen breast from his kneading, then up again.

“fuck me,” you offered, and his face pinched, pulling back from your touch so he sat back on his haunches.

“what’re you not tellin’ me, lovely?” he asked, angling your chin down so you were looking right into his dark eyes.

you swallowed hard. “Konig came and talked to me.”

he stiffened, grip on your chin tightening as he frowned. “he didn’t touch you, did he?”

“no,” you said, clutching at his wrist, “he told me that he wanted to stay in the city for me.”

with as much honesty as you could muster, you told him, “i realized that i care about him more than i believed.”

his hand dropped from your face, jaw clenched as a new void look swept through his expression, which left you icy inside and out.

“you want to tell me that you love him?” there was such a strain in his voice that it didn’t sound like his own.

“no,” you said immediately, and the tight bunch of his shoulders dropped. “i want...”

that voice in your head screamed and you tried to bury it but it came out wracking and loud. you screwed your eyes shut.

you Simon, it screamed. i want you. you wanted him so bad it was soul-crushing. you wanted him so bad you’d rather deny yourself of the need, ignore him endlessly, if it meant that he wouldn’t… reject you.

those same, sharp questions pierced finally broke the barricade of your mind. could you ever hope for Simon to be yours? would he ever think you an equal? was it more than the power balance you felt it to be?

you looked into his stoic face.

“i want to start over.”

he tilted his head, voice rough. “start over.”

you nodded. “i’m a business woman. i’m a murderer. i’ve done awful things. i’m not innocent anymore.”

you held your breath, hoping with all your might he would believe your words. you were so, so, so very afraid that he cared for a girl that you weren’t anymore.

you are a woman now, Yue-Yi had said to you with wonder after your reunion in san francisco, marveled that you had survived the harrowing gang war.

he edged closer to you, creeping over you so his body bowed down to your own. his hands slid up to your cheeks, holding your face as he brushed his thumb over your cheek. his dark eyes flitted between yours.

you pressed on. “let’s do everything over. no more secrets. retell me ones i’ve already learned.”

when he was silent, you reached up to gently hold his face in your palms in return.

“the one i love is you,” you admitted, amazed at how the weight slid right from your shoulders into some intangible pit below, just how it had been that noon with Konig.

you searched his eyes, finding nothing changed in them after your words. just Simon’s brown eyes. still just Simon. the clarity in that realization was like finally finding a foothold after months of free fall.

“you’ve changed Angel,” he said, quietly, like he was in awe.

your breath hitched. “is that bad?”

“‘course not. is this what you’ve been worrying your pretty little head about for months?”

you frowned. “yes.”

his whole body relaxed, easing down to trap you beneath his muscled body. “i thought you were rethinkin’ about marrying me.”

you winced, because in all technicality you were, but not because you were doubting him. you were doubting all of the unreliable circumstances that danced around the two of you.

he said softer, “i thought you didn’t want me anymore.”

“i want you more than anything,” you squeaked and he cocked his head.

only you could decipher it as the silent question that it was. then why’d you do all that to me?

your breath hitched, the guilt of neglecting him like a crashing, icy wave splashing over you. or, rather, you had neglected yourself.

“i can’t explain it,” you choked and he rubbed a hand over your chest.

“take your time Angel.”

shimmering tears glossed your eyes, and you said quicker than you thought, “i wanna be equals.”

the slow, soothing circles he drew against your chest stopped. “equals?”

“i wanna be more than this,” you said, clutching at the jewel on your chest, hoping with every fiber of your being that he understood.

more than the once innocent and naive girl he kidnapped.

but he was just silent for a long moment, eyes darting between your face and the little jewel, and you made a strangled noise of frustration.

“i want you to be mine, too,” you admitted, so embarrassed by the proposition that you couldn’t look at him.

when his silence just continued, your eyes darted over to meet his, face void of anything perceptible before he suddenly smothered a laugh, pressing a fist to his lips and twisting away so you couldn’t see his face.

“what—”

you scrambled up to see him keeled over by the edge of the bed, his shoulders shaking with laughter.

“Simon!” you shouted, kicking at his shoulder to get him to quit it, but that only goaded him on.

with a sniffle, you wiped at the tears in your eyes and scrambled from the bed, standing up to stomp out of the room. even if you were naked and all, you didn’t care.

“don’t even try to run away,” he growled between laughter, winding an arm around your waist and pulling you back so you fell back against his chest with a yelp, fighting him as he wrestled you back down to the bed.

when your cheek was pressed against the mattress, back arched and ass pressed to his hips, you slumped with defeat and he let out a low, approving hum, laughter finally subsiding as he bent over you to nose at the crown of your head.

once he settled above you, he hummed again, an iron grip around both of your forearms that were pressed to the bed. he kneed your thighs apart, cunt spread and presented to him in the most indecent way possible.

you shuddered, a burning heat in your tummy.

“silly girl,” he murmured, hips sliding forward to press his leaking cock into the softness of your inner thigh.

you gasped, squirming around in his grip, trapped beneath him.

“my cock was made for this pretty pussy,” he rasped, low enough that it sent goosebumps across your skin, a little whimper torn from your lips.

“made for you,” he emphasized, picking up a hand that pinned down your forearm.

you looked down between your quivering legs, watching him wrap a large hand around his length and pump his cock a couple times before lining up with your entrance.

“already?” you whined, shaking at the feeling of his drooling tip pushing through your gooey folds.

“you can take it can’t you?” he cooed softly, leaning down to press a messy kiss to your cheek.

of course you could, you wanted to say, but the memory of how the stretch of your cunt around his big cock burned even when he prepared you made you tremble.

but that didn’t stop you from wiggling your hips back into him, wanting him to just slide in already, the wetness of your cunt hot and unbearable. you couldn’t keep from whimpering against the sheets for him.

at your meek display of submission, he whispered in a low, throaty tone, “good girl.”

slowly, he pressed his cock into your unstretched cunt, smothering your cries against the blankets. you screwed your eyes shut, tears slipping down your cheeks as you half-sobbed.

Simon smoothed a hand down your spine, his other hand going between your thighs to circle at your aching clit as he plunged further in.

“hurts,” you whined and he hummed, kissing your shoulder blade.

“want me to stop?” he offered softly, but you immediately shook your head, wanting to please him.

always wanting to please him.

“you’re perfect,” he purred against your skin, bullying the last thick inches of his base into your pussy till he was flush against your ass.

lingering there for a moment, letting the sharp burn subside as you sniffled against the sheets and he peppered kisses all down your neck and back, fingers still massaging your swollen clit.

“needed this so bad,” he admitted, hot breath against your back making your shiver, “needed this pretty little, tight cunt so bad.”

the first snap of his hips punched the breath from your lungs, the rest leaving you gasping, breathless, and mind dizzy as he fucked you. rough. rougher than you felt in a long time.

punishing, you thought dreamily as his hand reached around your throat and squeezed periodically to keep you from passing out.

his hips slammed against your ass, growling out low grunts that coupled with your breathy hiccups in the quiet of the room. it had you delirious and out of your mind, thick tears rolling down your cheeks and pooling at the mattress below.

when he stopped abruptly, hips flush to the back of your thighs that stung from repetitive impact, he manhandled you onto your back, twisting you on his cock as he draped your legs over your shoulders, bending you in half and ignoring your little whimpers as he continued to fuck you relentlessly.

when his hand snaked up to your throat again, you thought he’d give you those delicious little squeezes that had your cunt throbbing and aching, but he wrapped his fingers around your necklace instead, pressing the jewel of it into your throat.

his head was tilted, eyes predatory and clouded beyond recognition.

“pretty,” he snarled, fingers digging into your cheek to keep you still as he pressed more messy kisses to your face as you whimpered.

not punishing, you realized, choking out a sob when he slammed deep into that sweet spot in you, possessive.

so possessive that it made your head spin, clit twitching for his attention, your hips bucking up into his rough movements as you whined for his touch desperately.

“touch yourself,” he commanded roughly, and you sobbed out a thank you, running a hand down your stomach to rub at it—but it just wasn’t as good as the rough pads of his fingers that knew exactly how you liked it.

whining again, he chided you with a tsk, leaning down to shut you up with a hot, wet kiss, tongue invading your mouth as he pushed your hand aside. he pressed his thumb against your needy clit, fingers splayed across your stomach as he abused the pebbled bud to perfection.

“oh, Simon,” you gasped into his full lips, watching the silvery scar of his upper lip stretch when he smiled, malicious and pupils blown wide.

“hm? tha’ good, baby?”

“yeah,” you choked out, more tears running down your face when you screwed your eyes shut. he kissed them away with a softness that made you melt, curling into his touch, taking and loving every one of his rough thrusts that drove you a little further up the bed.

so far that he held up a hand against it, broad and big body towering over your small, shaking one, dwarfed by him in the darkness.

he groaned, little strings of praise leaving his lips. “so perfect takin’ me, Angel. so small and tight and takin’ it all.”

you nodded, gasping for breath as your fingers twisted in the sheets, overwhelmed

“this cock yours? hm?” he goaded, and you just kept nodding through your hiccuped gasps, hands running up his strong arms to sink your nails into his shoulders, tugging him down to you with a whine.

he relented, dropping down to squish you beneath his heavy weight, your thighs almost pressed to your ears as he fucked his thick cock into you, your eyes rolling back when you felt it throb inside you.

“tell me m’yours,” he growled in your ear, and you moaned, snaking a hand into his hair to pull at its roots and quell the crashing pleasure wracking your body with little overstimulated shakes.

“you’re mine,” you squeaked back, and he chuckled low in your ear, talking you through an orgasm with throaty murmurs.

good girl. come for me now. wanna watch your pretty face while you come. thaaas’ it, pretty thing, come f’me, come f’me—

and you did, every one of his words spurring you closer to the edge, thrown over it when he snuck a hand around your throat and squeezed, the cold metal of your necklace digging into your skin.

it was too much, and you came so hard you saw white, throaty groans in your ear as you came down from the high, Simon’s thrusts slower and more affectionate.

“did so well f’me,” he cooed, and you nodded weakly, still clutching at his hair as your body continued to shake.

“think you can do it again?” he asked softly and you immediately shook your head.

“no,” you sniffled, but he pressed his lips against your hair, a telling smile twisted them and you whimpered, knowing exactly what that meant.

you gasped when he suddenly pulled out of you, feeling light and airy and cold from the weightless absence of him. dizzy, you picked up your head, blinking your eyes against the darkness, pacified when he leaned down and enveloped your lips with his warm ones, movements slow and soft when he flipped you to straddle his hips.

you leaned against his chest, feeling just as woozy and dizzy as he angled your hips, dripping length pushing through your folds and catching against your sensitive clit.

“i think you can, lovely,” he said, thumb rubbing soothing circles into your hip. “can you try? f’me?”

you sniffled, sending him a pout that just made the smug look on his face stretch.

“want you to use me,” he rasped, eyes darting down to where his cock was nestled between the wet folds of your entrance—sopping with your orgasm and the pearly white liquid that rolled from the tip of his cock.

you whined, grinding down on him, feeling that needy thrum between your thighs again, and he hummed approvingly, guiding his cock back into the waiting clutch of your heat.

the position was unusual to you—so exposed in the cold air of the room, begetting you a whole new berth of control that you were unsure what to do with when you sunk down on him, watching his blonde lashes flutter as his eyelids drooped, sighing out a heavy breath.

once you were settled flush to his hips, you gasped, head tilted back and eyes wide at how deep the head of him nudged against that gummy crook of your inside that ached and keened for stimulation.

“Simon,” you gasped, unsure what to do.

he placed two hands on your hips, dragging your hips up so just the tip of him was at your entrance, before spearing you back down.

you gasped when the head of his cock pressed right against that sweet spot again, and you clutching at his big hands on your hips, picking your hips up before dropping back down onto him, the new pleasure blooming through your body.

“tha’ it,” he grunted, lolling his head back into the pillows, watching your work his length with little breathy moans and gasps, “use this cock. s’all yours.”

you whined at that, whimpering a little, “mine” as you peered down at him through half-lidded eyes.

“mhmm,” he affirmed, using his thumb to play with your aching clit, “m’all yours, princess.”

a moan escaped your lips as you tipped your head back, riding him slow and sensual to your own pleasure, letting it overwhelm you with loud keens of pleasure, head spinning at the thick, pulsing cock between your legs.

all yours, your mind chanted, reaching up to pinch at your own sensitive nipples and whimpering at the sensation that mixed into all the others, watching Simon groan beneath you.

“such a dirty, corrupted little thing,” he grunted, thrusting up in time with your movements so he slammed a little deeper in you every time.

“gonna let me make you my pretty little wife, princess?” he asked, voice so soft as he cupped your cheek.

you nodded incessantly, babbling incoherent words and little pleas as you leaned forward on his chest, another orgasm rushing closer and closer to you.

“gonna come?”

you nodded again, pitched little whimpers the only sound you could push from your lips as he snapped his hips up, taking over the weak, shallow movement of your hips, thighs burning from the effort.

your whole body turned to jello, muscles going lax as you collapsed over him, core convulsing with sweet, delicious pulses that blissed you out, a roar of static in your ears as you screwed your eyes shut with a broken sob.

you hadn’t even realized your cheek was pressed to Simon’s chest till you were coming down from the intensity of it, mind still buzzing with overstimulation, as you just listened to his lulling breaths against your hair and the slow swells of his chest.

he brushed his fingers up your back. “alright, lovely?”

you nodded with a contented hum against his bare chest, tracing the mottled scars of his body softly.

you only noticed his throbbing, hard length still flush to that sweet spot in you when he bucked his hips up, and a surprised moan left your lips.

“can i?” he asked, lifting your hips softly to slide his cock out the tight clutch of your cunt.

you weren’t sure of what he was asking for till he perched your leg up, wrapping a hand around himself and stroking, tip pressed right up against the rim of your entrance.

you moaned at the sight, craning your head back to look at the quick swipe of his hand twisting around his cock, hips bucking up in an irregular pattern that made you dizzy.

he twitched beneath you every time slapped the head of his cock against your clit, making you mewl out with sensitivity, turning your head back to him, finding his dark, clouded eyes already on you.

he picked his head up in a silent offering that you took, kissing him with a delirious need, needing him to do something, needed him to come.

“need it,” you whimpered, grinding your hips down against the head of his cock, and his hips bucked with a low groan against your tongue.

“fuck,” he grunted, forehead pressed to yours, “you don’t even know what you’re asking for.”

that only left you confused, brow furrowed as you traced your fingers over his neck and collarbones, scratching lightly over the skin just to hear his breath go shallow.

“need you to come in me,” you begged, whining at the very thought of his hot, milky spend spilling into your cunt, not knowing why you needed it, just that you did.

he groaned loud, hips bucking up into his hands a few more times till he held the head of his cock right against your entrance and came all over your pussy lips, splashing them with a hot, goopy liquid as you whimpered, grinding down on the feeling.

you were half tempted to sheath himself back into your cunt, but his fingers already beat you to it, slithering down your stomach to curl up into your entrance. you gasped as he pushed the spend in you, hot and slimy and just as you had imagined as you ground down on his fingertips.

“this what you needed?” he asked, voice hazy and distant. you blinked up at him, his head lolled against the pillows with a lazy smirk.

shifting up you pecked his lips, humming as he fucked his fingers into you, spreading his spend within you. he pecked your nose in return.

“good.”

then, his fingers were sliding out your cunt, leaving you empty and cold after the accumulated sweat on your body had dried. but his arms were warm as he wrapped you in his embrace, turning you over to crush you beneath him again, just where you belonged.

stretching out beneath him, you winced at the sting between your thighs.

“sore?” he asked, reaching down to cup your cunt, and you swatted at his hand with a flush.

“s’your fault,” you said with a pout.

he just thumbed at your lower lip that jutted out, and you playfully bit down on it, satisfied when you saw a little smile on his lips.

“i promise i’ll stretch you nice and good beforehand next time. with a couple orgasms too,” he purred in your ear, and you only flushed deeper, hiding it under an indignant nod and a little hmph.

“but that won’t be happenin' for a while, pretty,” he said, rolling off you to sit at the edge of the bed.

when you sent him a quizzical look, beseeching him to come back and keep you warm, he just shook his head.

“s’improper while courting.”

you stiffened against the sheets, dropping your hand back down to your side. then, your eyes narrowed. “since when do you care about that kind of bullshit?”

he just bellowed a laugh, standing, tall and broad and stretching his compressed muscles in the open air. your eyes dropped beneath his hips, taking in the hair along his naval and his softening cock with a greediness.

tipping your knees open suggestively, you bared your intimates to him, and his eyes honed in on the messy mix of wetness caking your lower body.

“don’t do that,” he said, low and threatening as his eyes darted back up to your own, tongue sliding along his lower lip.

you couldn’t help but swallow at the sight of him, splaying yourself suggestively over the bed to entice him back. he just turned on his heel with a scoff, muttering something like insatiable beneath his breath before he walked off somewhere into the spacious room.

with the whiz of a match, you saw a space on the opposite of the bedroom bloom with light as he lit candles inside the bathroom.

in the meantime, you burrowed beneath the blankets and soft furs, humming with content at the warmth, brow furrowing when you felt them being pulled off your. with closed eyes, you felt Simon lift your leg, gently wiping your thighs and the sensitive place between them with a warm cloth, making you jolt at the sensation.

he pressed an apologetic kiss to your shoulder before the blankets were on you again and there was the sound of rustling, footsteps in the distance, the rush of water, footsteps nearing you, and more rustles when Simon slid into the bed behind you.

you turned onto your back to blink your eyes lazily at him, seeing him propped up on his side against the pillows and looking down at you. you smiled, tracing along his jaw and the silvery scar on his upper lip before he stooped down to kiss you with an intensity, tongue softly brushing against yours, before he pulled away again.

“do that again,” you commanded and with a huff he complied, kissing you so hard it made you dizzy.

“better?” he asked with a relaxed look on his face, reaching around you to play with your necklace.

“mhmm.”

you clutched at his wrist. “this my first courting gift?”

he let it drop against your skin, snaking two arms around you to pull you flush to his chest. it was warm and inviting. exactly where you belonged. exactly where Simon belonged.

“naturally.”

you smothered a smile, slithering your hand over his bound around your waist, intertwining your fingers together. he nuzzled against you with a hum, yawning right by your ear like a big cat.

“it was my last effort at failing to court you for months,” he admitted softly, breathing in the scent of your hair and skin shamelessly. you swatted at him, giggling at his ticklish breaths on your skin.

“leaving things around my apartment was courting?” you asked with a snort, and he grunted against your neck.

“i don’t know how it works,” he grumbled, and you drew lazy patterns across the veins of his muscled forearm.

“i could’ve taught you,” you sighed, remembering how your mama had described your daddy’s courting process.

Simon’s prolonged silence goaded you, and you began, “supposed to have a chaperone. first, you talk to her parents, gain their approval to pursue her, then—”

“i know all that,” he interjected, sounding sheepish. it was the first time you heard him so flustered, but you decided not to push him when you could feel him frown against your hair.

squirming around in his arms, he loosened his hold enough so that you could turn, taking in the strained look on his face. you pecked the corners of his scowl, willing it away, but it didn’t relent.

“then,” you said, brushing his brow with your fingers, “you fix a date to court her in front of her family.”

his scowl just deepened and you huffed a laugh.

“court me in front of Yue-Yi,” you offered, letting your head sink into the pillows, a droop pulling on your eyelids.

“i don’t want to,” he countered and you rolled your eyes.

“she’s the only family i’ve got besides one-four-one,” you said, stifling a yawn, “unless you wanna court me in front of John.”

he nodded slowly, like he was being thoughtful. “that could work.”

you scoffed, letting your eyes slide shut. “unbelievable.”

his fingers traced along your bare spine. “i’ve gotta tell you somethin’, lovely.”

“hm?” you prompted, tilting your head into the pillow like you were listening.

“i did ask your parents for permission.”

you stilled in his arms, breaths growing shallow, waiting for him to explain. when he didn’t, you pressed him.

“and?”

when his silence was only prolonged, you blinked your eyes open, lazily looking up at the serious look pinching his face.

“your mother was shot by one of Turner’s men in the street. it was a mess. don’t know how she got there, or where your father was. just hauled her down an alley and tried to save her.”

your heart swelled so big that it cinched your esophagus, and you found it hard to breathe around the beating appendage in your throat.

“in her dyin’ moments, she asked me if i had done somethin’ to you.” he screwed his eyes shut, a pained look crossing his face.

“i told her that i had, but that i cared about you more than anythin’. i promised i’d marry you and be a good, faithful husband.”

gripping his jaw lightly, you shimmied up in his arms to press a kiss to his lips that he didn’t return, dark eyes flitting over your face.

“i think she wanted to kill me,” he admitted softly, and you just gave him a wry smile.

“sounds like my mama,” you said, trying to ease the pained look on his face, heart sinking when his scowl only strengthened.

“i tried to save her,” he said, voice gruff and brows pinched together, “i promise.”

you nodded, brushing your hands over his face, willing all of his pain away. “i believe you.”

he closed his eyes with a frustrated huff. “m’terrible at courting.”

you would’ve laughed if it weren’t for the dark roil of deep disapproval coming off him in waves.

“we didn’t exactly have a practical start,” you reminded him, thinking back to months ago. when it was the heat of a dusty summer and he was waltzed into your daddy’s saloon like he owned it, snatching your heart just at the first sight of his brown eyes behind the bloody layer of his glittering mask.

you could barely remember how it looked after it so long. you took in the handsome planes of his face just to remind yourself that you could.

“you deserve more,” he grumbled, still not looking at you. instead, you kissed his eyelids softly.

“stop it,” you chided, patting his cheek hard enough to make his eyes snap open.

“i only want you,” you said, enjoying the way his expression went sweet and gooey at your words, a sleepy smile on his lips, “there is no more or less.”

“this is it,” he said, voice soft as he pressed your foreheads together.

“this is it,” you sighed, curling your arms around his neck, letting your eyes close once more.

goosebumps rose where his fingers danced across your skin, picking up the ends of your hair against your collarbone and playing with it gently.

“marry me,” he offered, hooking a finger beneath the silver chain of your new necklace, rattling when he tugged on it.

“i do,” you sighed, letting him kiss you softly before his warm touch was pulling you down into a heavy slumber.

translations: — te ves tan bonita esta noche, Angel = you look so pretty tonight, angel — escuche que eres la chica de Ghost. pero ya no lo parece = i heard you're Ghost's girl. but it doesn't seem that way anymore —¿todavia parece que no es mia cabron? = does she still look like she’s not mine, bastard?

anyway! next up.... wedding scene 🌚 unless.... jkjk unless............. 👁️👁️ jk (unless...)

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