#now that time has passed they make as little sense to me as it may been to you all in the moment but the second one is still real lol

[cacaitos]

look back at my maps boy

[kamiraaah]

TWST PARENTS! Trappola, Hunt and Ashengrotto!!

⚠️⚠️First of all, I must warn you that these designs may change in the future, either because the game presented us with the official designs, or just because I really wanted to change... Or I could reuse these designs for these characters!⚠️⚠️ Given that warning...

Guys, gals, and non-binary pals. I present to you, the Trappola, Hunt, and Ashengrotto families!

The Trappolas it's a very common family, compared to others. Of course, Ace Trappola and his brother get into a lot of trouble and face their mother's anger very often... But hey! It's good that they have their father to calm things down when things escalate, right? It may not seem like it, but Mrs. Trappola in her youth was just like Ace, always getting into trouble and facing authorities without thinking twice… Which led to many fights with Ace's grandmother. Mr. Trappola, on the other hand, rarely started fights, at least physical ones. Since he has a sharp tongue, always with some offense or something to irritate the other person. Both Ace and his brother inherited these traits from their parents… Although the older one is a little more responsible and is sometimes the one who talks sense into Ace's head. Ace and his brother have always been close, even though they fight or torment each other, they both have great respect for each other, even now that they don't see each other as much…

The Hunt family is a mystery to many.

The members of this family are… Lively, for lack of a better description, and Rook is the best known among them, and yet he is a guy who hides many secrets.

Although they are unknown, they are apparently a family with a certain wealth, many stories surround their members about how the Hunts managed to get so much money and influence in Twisted Wonderland...

But of course none that came close to the truth.I still wonder what kind of people they are.

Mama, Papa and Grandma Ashengrotto! A very loving family that loves young Azul more than he can imagine. Miss Ashengrotto goes to great lengths to demonstrate her love for her son, even though she is a busy woman, always does everything possible and impossible to be present in her son's life. She is a great friend of the Leech family, and always gets in touch to talk or update each other on how the children are doing. Mr. Ashengrotto, Azul's stepfather, is a kind man who has great respect for his wife. At the beginning of his relationship with his current wife, he was afraid that it would end up affecting the relationship between mother and son… The last thing he wanted was to make the young man hate him, but time passed and Azul and him ended up getting very close ( and catching his stepfather off guard when he called him "papa"… who ended up crying with happiness). Unfortunately, he carries the guilt of not having noticed the bullying that Azul went through in his childhood, and whenever he can (or when Azul allows him) he helps him with whatever he can… Always trying to talk and advise the youngest. Grandmother Ashengrotto, like her daughter, is a kind but strict woman. Always wanting the best for her grandson and being one of his biggest supporters in any projects her grandson starts. Always demands that he visits her more often... And preferably with friends! She wants to make sure her precious grandson is being well taken care of!!

AND MORE FAMILIES DONE!! And I'm still going to draw pictures of other members of the TWST families, so please bear with me a little… I'm going as fast as I can!🫠

I'm not 100% satisfied with their designs... They have a big chance of being changed, but I hope you like them! 😚

[xinganhao]

🎸 vernon dates rockstar!reader.

anon → "vernon x rockstar!reader who’s a foreigner in an international rock band" ➤ see also: series masterlist

⌗ ┆ anon are u kidding meee. vernon dating a rockstar?!?! my bread & butter (｡･`ω´･)ﾉ hope this is to your liking!

‧₊˚✩彡 includes: international rockstar!reader, f!reader, long distance relationship, established relationship, pet names, fluff, can be read not in order + headcanons under the cut.

🎸 headcanons .ᐟ

— prologue.

vernon was never really a big believer in long-distance relationships. or relationships in general, if he's being honest. they take a lot of work, a lot of energy, a lot of effort. his life is already hectic as it is. why rope somebody in to the life of dating an idol? why be with someone if he can't give them his 100%?

it makes sense, then, that when vernon does find someone, it's someone who runs similar circles. someone who knows what it's like to constantly be on the road, to be in the public eye more often than not.

vernon has been a casual listener of your band for a while now. it's the type of sound that fits right in to his playlists. and, okay, fine. he thinks you're attractive. sue him. but he swears he's there for the music— most of the time. there is a part of him that's there for the performance videos of you shredding your guitar, or the ones where you're screaming in to the microphone.

alright. vernon concedes: he may have a little crush on you.

so you can imagine vernon's surprise when he finds out the two of you are in the same line-up for some american music festival. it's a rare thing, for vernon to ask his managers for anything specific, but he absolutely cannot pass this chance up. he tries to be discreet about it, too. "i really like this band," he sheepishly admits to his manager. "do you think— i don't know, i could just say 'hi' to them or something?"

that's how you and vernon meet. on the sidelines of a music festival, where he's so cool about the whole thing. he's more on the soft-spoken side as he tells you that he thinks you're a great performer and that he can't wait to see you live. you'll think he's cute, and you'll thank him for going out of his way tell you personally.

you'll take a photo together. he'll give you a signed copy of the group's latest album, and you promise to give it a listen. (prior to vernon, you might have not really known too much about k-pop. that's something the two of you briefly discuss— the differences in your industries.) but, as he starts to bid goodbye, you can't resist.

"tell me," you say, small smile in place. "how would a k-pop idol react to having a rockstar slide in to their dm's?"

vernon's brain short-circuits. your words steal every single thought out of his head, and he's reminded, yet again, of small cultural differences. how much more forward americans can be when they want to. he's about to respond when his manager clears their throat, and vernon remembers his place. he flounders through some lame response.

you apologize for putting vernon on the spot, feeling a bit bad yourself. you hadn't wanted to get him in trouble. there's a little more chit-chat, and then— "quick," vernon breathes while his manager's distracted with a phone call. "got a pen on you?"

he scribbles his phone number on the corner of the album he'd just given you. "dm's don't always work for idols. but this might," vernon will say with a smirk that's not quite a smirk, and oh. you know this is going to be fun.

it takes a while for vernon and you to agree that a relationship is something you want to attempt. it will happen after months of back-and-forth via text, months of 'will they? won't they?' flirtations. it's going to be long distance in more ways than one. there's thousands of kilometers between you, a thirteen hour time difference, opposite ends of the entertainment industry.

you two agree to give it a shot anyway, because what's there to lose? no hard feelings if it doesn't work out. that's your constant refrain. you'll try. you'll do your best. and if things fall apart— well, that's just how it is.

— the texts.

except vernon finds it increasingly difficult, as times go on, to imagine a life without you. it's hard to do long distance. of course it's hard. he just thought it'd be harder, but surprisingly, it isn't.

'catch ya when i can' becomes something exchanged as often as 'i love you'. the windows of time wherein the two of you can actually talk— especially when you're both busy— are small, and so it's a bit of a game. vernon races against his busy schedule to 'catch' you, and it always feels like the biggest win in the world. even if it's just a couple of minutes where the two of you are both online, where the texts don't have hours in between each of them? he'll take 'em.

facetime can be a bit of a luxury but it's something the two of you try to do at least thrice a week. a lot of it is quiet snapshots of your daily lives. vernon eats dinner as you go through your morning routine. you get ready for bed as he tells you his plans for the day. it's the epitome of long-distance, how he says 'good morning' and you respond with 'good night.'

there's the fact that it's secret, too. no one can know that the two of you are dating. occasionally, you're linked to other people in the business. it's a grace that vernon is so secure in your relationship that he doesn't really mind. he trusts you, after all, and sees no need to blow things out of proportion. every so often, he'll feel a twinge of envy. but he knows that it's him that you'll text at the end of every day, so it's okay. that makes it okay.

that's why vernon compensates as best as he can. there's a lot of red-eye flights, from incheon to jfk and vice versa. it's easier for you to be the one to come visit him, since your fans don't keep track of you the same way that k-pop fans do. when vernon does make the flights abroad, though, he's always careful to cover up his tracks. to come up with some story of spending time abroad to visit family, to work on 'projects' he never publicly reveals.

vernon goes to your shows when he can. mostly, he watches from side stage so he's away from the view of the public. he likes it that way, really— likes being the person you make a beeline for once you've taken your in-ears out. he'll laugh as you bear hug him. he'll keep an arm around your shoulders as he assures you that you did well. "you were so hot up there," he'll tease you. "how am i supposed to function now, huh?"

a cute little thing that vernon and you establish about midway in to your relationship is a 'couple' instagram account, except it's private and it's just for the two of you to see. @11203km (referencing the distance between you two) is a way for you to dump your thoughts/every day lives without flooding your text thread. when it's 🎸 posting, then maybe it's a carousel of your latest practice sessions or snaps of your recent attempts at cooking. when it's 🐻‍❄️'s posts, it's likely vernon's tiktok outtakes or his misadventures with the rest of the boys.

vernon had always thought that being in a relationship entailed giving your 100% all of the time. being with you has taught him otherwise. if some days, all he can give is 40%, then he can count on you to put in the rest of the 60%. the same goes for you: if you have weeks where all you can put in is 30%, then he'll step up with 70%. any relationship is work, but if it's you, then vernon is convinced that it isn't hard work. not at all.

— extra!

chwebacca 🤟 think i can join ur band now? ㅋㅋㅋ

📷 fansite photos from @Flechazo_0218.

[strangersatellites]

frat steve has taken steddie twitter by storm so have this

eddie’s dragging his feet in his boots, humming under his breath while he unsuccessfully flicks the lighter under his cigarette.

every time he finds himself walking down fraternity row he also finds himself wondering how he got here.

not physically- he took a left on 4th and a right on morningside, he knows that.

but in a larger sense.

he’s a junior well on his way to a media and entertainment arts degree who, as a freshman and sophomore spent most of his friday nights at local dives either playing with his band or drinking and shooting the shit with the divorced dads at the pool table.

so when he wonders how he got here, he means how he’s found himself on the way to his third house party this month.

he finally gets his cigarette lit and he stops on the sidewalk to get in a few drags before he heads in. mentally prepares himself for the insufferable music he’ll have to endure for thirty minutes or so before he tunes it out.

he mock-bows at the group of girls that wanders past, giggles and waves sent his way making him laugh to himself.

he drops the butt and stubs it beneath the toe of his boot and takes a breath.

heads toward the house door.

when he gets there he’s met with two guys, freshman surely. letters emblazoned across their cutoff muscle tees and hats turned backwards and perched, very stupidly if eddie shares his piece, atop their heads.

they stop him with a hand up and friendly smiles and mock bravado “three actives,” bro number one states.

eddie barely holds back an incredulous laugh.

“you cannot be serious.”

the boys eye each other, confused and getting frustrated, eddie can tell.

the first bows up a bit.

“dead serious, bro. name three actives.”

and look, eddie may be a showman at the best of times but he really doesn’t want to pull his trump card here. not now.

that would just add insult to injury.

he’s wracking his brain for a way to let them down gently, to get them to step aside and let him through when there’s a loud commotion behind them and then steve is shouldering his way past and onto the front steps.

“eddie!!” he cheers and swings his strong arms up and around his neck. he, unlike tweedle dee and tweedle dum, is just wearing a white t-shirt and his hair, his beautiful, beautiful hair is left untarnished by the blasphemy that is the frat boy snapback.

he wraps an arm low around his waist and presses a kiss to his temple.

“hey, baby,” he smiles, watching the dropped jaws and disbelieving eyes over steve’s shoulder.

steve pulls back and shoves his chest back and he stumbles, laughing.

“dude you were supposed to be here ages ago!”

eddie tugs him back close by his wrists and puts on his best puppy eyes.

“sorry, sweetheart, got caught up at rehearsals. but i’m all yours now.”

steve grabs his hand and tangles their fingers together. spins around and point between eddie and the pledge-bouncers.

“guys, this is eddie! eddie this is jeremy and josh.”

eddie waves, small and a bit sarcastic but steve doesn’t pick up on that. just tugs him past and takes off to find eddie a drink.

eddie gets clapped on the shoulder and high-fived by a couple of steve’s friends as they pass and he yells across the room to eric to save him a seat.

he turns back to the door and still sees bewildered looks, slightly afraid.

he gets it, he does.

in a larger sense at least.

if he were these boys and had just tried to deny entry to the president’s boyfriend he might be a little afraid too.

he swings an arm around each of their shoulders and pulls them close.

“relax, gentlemen. your secret is safe with me.”

they stutter and go to argue but steve is back with two red plastic cups and a bright smile.

“c’mon ed, luke wants to hear about your show since he missed it last week.”

eddie pats both boys on their backs before he takes the drink from steve’s hand and tucks the other in steve’s back pocket.

“later guys. catch up next time, yeah?”

their stunned nods and quiet agreements follow as eddie and steve walk away.

they’ll be seeing a lot more of each other.

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Nine

Eddie let Steve dry his hair after the shower. He knew Eddie understood the concept of the hair dryer, he’d felt it before and understood what it did. He’d watched Steve dry Eddie’s book after all, but practice and theory, apparently, can be very different.

Actually having the warm air pointed at Eddie’s head was not the same, and Eddie had, initially, behaved like a startled cat. It hadn’t helped that Steve had laughed so much he’d had to turn it off again and simply stand and wait for the laughter to pass.

He thought he had his shit back together but, no, one look at Eddie’s affronted face and he was gone again, actually crying tears of laughter. Eddie was much braver the second time, so they got there in the end.

They brush their teeth together, elbow to, well, more shoulder than elbow, in the mirror.

Eddie apparently has decided to just skip some steps tonight, and he has no compunction about getting straight into Steve’s bed.

Steve honestly doesn’t mind. He has genuinely slept better the last two night’s he’s spent with Eddie, and, well, he must just like the company.

There’s no breakfast this morning; Eddie is still sleeping. He’s pretty silent when he sleeps, no snoring or breathing sounds really, but Steve can feel that Eddie’s breathing just fine, considering Steve’s woken up spooning him, Eddie’s tail threaded back through Steve’s legs.

Steve has a face full of Eddie’s hair; the shampoo and conditioner routine are definitely making an improvement; Steve wouldn’t go so far as to say it’s soft, but it’s way better than the wiry mess it had been.

Steve rubs idle circles with his hand on Eddie’s tummy, and he can easily tell where the skin changes from...well, kind of human, to...kind of fish. It’s a little tougher, a little firmer.

Steve brings his hand up over what would be Eddie’s hip and back down; he thinks vaguely that he probably wouldn’t be touching like this if Eddie was equipped like a human.

Well, at least not without taking Eddie to dinner first.

Eddie shifts under Steve’s hand; waking up probably, so Steve withdraws. Except he can’t; Eddie gets Steve firmly by the wrist and puts his hand back, the message clear. When Steve doesn’t immediately move, Eddie moves Steve’s hand for him, tracing the same loop, “good, good,” Eddie tells him, “called?”

“Touch,” Steve says quietly to the back of Eddie’s head, “it’s called touch. I’m touching you.”

“Touch many many many good.”

Steve snorts a laugh, “that many goods is...perfect.”

“Perfect?”

“Good good good. Many many good. The most good. All the good. Perfect.”

Eddie makes an assessing noise, thinking, “Stee perfect.”

Steve snorts a laugh, but can also feel himself blushing with it, and hides his face against Eddie’s shoulder.

Eddie melts into the touch. Which, it makes sense really, doesn’t it? By the sound of it, Eddie was alone in the upside down, pretty much always fighting for his next meal, and then in that tank under Starcourt…Eddie’s probably never known a nice touch...well, ever. It makes sense he’d like it now.

Steve thinks Eddie may have actually fallen asleep again, his body is so lax and still, Steve himself snoozing a little, soothed by the hypnotic movements of his own hand, but then the phone rings and they both startle.

For a split second, Steve considers ignoring it, but he knows he can’t. Not with everything that’s happened; it could be important.

Steve sighs, sitting on the couch next to Eddie, trying to figure out what the fuck they’re going to do.

“Out?” Eddie asks again, pointing down the hall, “Eddidie not safe?”

“No, I know buddy, but you won’t be safe here either.” And fuck the pool should be drained for the winter by now, he’s going to have to do that too, before his parents get back tomorrow.

“Not safe Hawkins Indiana?” Eddie queries.

“It’s just for a few days, hopefully. I just need to figure out what to do, just let me think.”

Eddie sits quietly, plucking at the ruined bottom edge of his sweater.

Steve growls with frustration, “parents.”

“Parents?”

“Yeah buddy...uhm,” Steve gets a photo off the mantelpiece and brings it back, “this is my mum and dad.”

“Mum dad,” Eddie points, just like when he learned the kids names, “friends?”

“No. No not friends,” Eddie frowns tilting his head, “not safe?”

“Not safe for Eddie,” Steve confirms, “I’m going to have to call Hopper.”

“Grass Hopper?” Eddie immediately perks up. He’d followed one across the lawn when the weather was still warmer, and the memory has obviously stuck.

“No, different Hopper,” but Steve can’t help but smile.

Eddie perks up when the doorbell rings, “Hopper? Kids? Birdidie?”

“It’s Hopper, Buddy.”

Steve goes and gets the door, only when he opens it, he's greeted by Joyce and Hopper, “Oh. Hi, Joyce, I wasn’t, uhm, expecting you.”

“You have a mermaid from The Upside Down living in your pool and you think my boys didn’t tell me? After everything?”

“Right,” Steve says, backing up to let them both in, “so you knew too?”

“She rang me when Jon and Will confessed.”

“Right, no wonder you didn’t sound surprised.”

“Oh no,” Hopper takes off his coat, “I already knew, El told me the night Starcourt burned down.”

“Right,” Steve sighs, “of course.”

Hopper helps himself to a beer, eyeing the picture on the fridge, “Eddie drew it,” Steve tells him.

“Huh.”

Eddie sits patiently on the couch. Hopper eyes him like he might sprout tentacles any second, but Joyce says, “Hi Eddie, how are you?” In her kindest most motherly voice, and Steve knows he’s already won Joyce over without even doing anything.

“Hi. Good,” Eddie replies, and watching Eddie engage in conversation with a total stranger, even if it is only a few words, fills him with pride.

“Eddie, this is Joyce, and Hopper.”

“Joyce. Hopper.” He slurs a little over Joyce, but it’s more than recognizable.

“Joyce is Will and Jon’s mom. Hopper is El’s dad.”

Eddie frowns, and Steve recognizes Eddie’s processing face immediately, Eddie shakes his head, pointing at the mantle, “mom, dad.”

“Yeah, they’re my,” Steve taps his own chest, “mom and dad. Hopper is Els dad. Joyce is Wills mom.”

Steve almost sees the light bulb moment, when it clicks for Eddie what Steve means, “book,” Eddie leans over, retrieving his now really rather worn encyclopedia from amongst his stack of work books on the coffee table.

Hopper’s watching him like he might suddenly become a bomb that needs diffusing, but Joyce is learning forward in her chair, eyes kind and focused, hands clasped, clearly enamored of Eddie and what he’s doing.

“Stee?”

“Yeah Buddy?”

Eddie has the book open, and Steve leans over to look. It’s a page about frogs. The picture shows artfully drawn frogspawn, then tadpoles, then something Steve is just now learning is called a ‘froglet’, which is just basically a tiny frog with a tadpole tail, and then the final arrow points to a fully fledged frog.

Eddie points to the tadpoles, “El, Will, Stee,” and then he points to the big frog, “Hopper. Joyce. Mom. Dad.”

“Yeah Buddy, that’s right! You got it,” Eddie grins big and proud, finally figuring it out.

“Oh wow, he’s so clever, could he talk at all, when he first got here?”

“No. He didn’t understand anything, really.”

“Steve that’s so impressive, for him to come this far in, well, weeks, really, is amazing.”

And it has been pushing a couple of months, really, but yeah, Steve gets what Joyce means.

Eddie eyes Hopper and his drink, “Stee. Not later.”

It takes Steve a second, but he gets there, “no, but we could have later now.”

Eddie nods, so Steve goes and gets a beer. Both Hopper’s eyebrows are in his hairline, “you let him drink beer?”

“We only share one,” Steve says, a little defensively.

Eddie grasped the idea of going somewhere in the car really fast. That part was easy. Explaining that the tent needed to come down? Not so much.

Joyce and Hopper have gone again, Hopper with the promise of rearranging the cabin a little with El, and then getting Eddie appropriate groceries. Hopefully it’s only for a couple of days, but Steve has no idea with his parents.

He didn’t want to just send Eddie off with a stranger, even if it is Hopper, so he agreed to bring Eddie over this evening, after he set the pool draining and removed all traces of Eddie from the house.

He wanted to just put Eddie’s things in the bottom of his closet, show Eddie that he wasn’t getting rid of anything. That it would all be there for him when he gets back. Even the tent can be folded and squirreled away in the garage; even if Steve is already dreading putting the thing back up again.

Eddie had packed a bag with no problem, and then watched out of the window as Steve had put it in the car. There wasn’t much he wanted; his book and a coloring book, his walkie (with fresh batteries), some notebooks, his four jerseys and some pencils. His toothbrush.

Steve felt a little bad that Eddie hadn’t somehow accumulated more stuff, but Eddie didn’t seem fussed about it.

He seems fussed about this though, where he’s planted himself squarely in the mouth of the tent and just...won’t move.

He has his hands on what must be a vague approximation of where his hips would be, and Steve figures he’s done that to himself; there’s only one person Eddie could have picked that up from, and it’s him.

“Buddy,” Steve sighs, “we have to go to Hopper’s, okay? So I will put the tent back as soon as I can.”

“No.”

Steve gets up, goes and gets a box from the garage and brings it back. Eddie has stuck his head out to watch Steve, but otherwise hasn’t moved, “look, you can pack it yourself, okay? It’ll be safe, I promise. But we have to do this. No tent. Tent bad for Steve.”

“Why?”

Steve closes his eyes for a second, he really, truly, hates the ‘why?’

“Because...my dad he...he won’t like it. And it’ll be...bad.”

Steve doesn’t know how to explain that the house has to be exactly as they left it, even though the only come back for four weeks a year, if that.

“Bad?”

Steve nods, “dad might...be angry,” Eddie’s frown deepens, “he might...tell Steve bad.”

Eddie frowns, wrestling with the concept, “tell ow?”

“Yeah. Yeah probably,” Steve admits, even though he really doesn’t want to.

Eddie relents, backing up into the tent. He looks unhappy though, as he starts handing Steve things. Two folded towels; Steve replaces these periodically when Eddie brings him damp ones and asks for fresh ones. The slinky. The rubber duck. The Rubik's cube.

Eddie’s bucket, filled with short bits of twig, pine cones and tufts of dried grass, things that may have been flowers at some point.

An antler. Which Steve just, honestly, stares at for a minute, “where did you find this Buddy?”

Eddie points, “tree.”

“Right,” and Steve’s left wondering just how far Eddie goes when Steve’s not here. A delicate, perfectly clean, bird skull follows immediately after, and Steve decides to not even ask. He nestles it carefully in the bucket.

The ground mats follow, and then Steve watches as Eddie reaches up. He frees something from the middle pole, the one that runs across the top of the tent. A necklace, shining silver. Four rings follow, still tangled with the long stems of dried grass Eddie had used to fix them up there. Steve recognizes it all immediately; Eddie’s been in his parents room.

More specifically, his mothers jewellery box. Eddie looks so dejected, so guilty, “buddy, it’s okay, but I have to put these back. You know that, right?”

“In?” Eddie asks, pointing to the house.

“Yeah buddy but...you can have them back, after, okay?” Steve carefully slips Eddie’s treasure into his pocket.

Part Eleven

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

So I

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Summary: your casual arrangement turns a bit too serious.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

There’s a knock at the door. You huff as you don’t need to look through the peep hole to know who it is. No buzzer but he always finds a way. 

You pick up your phone and open the chat, ‘told you I’m tired.’ 

The little check mark flicks down. Read. No reply comes, only another knock on the door. 

‘Long day.’ You send another message. 

Thump. Thump. Thump. 

“You really want me to knock the door down?” Bucky chuckles through the wood. 

You inhale and roll yourself off the couch. You drop the phone on the square end table as you pass and drag your feet to the door. You lean on the inside and yawn as loudly as you can. 

“It’s after curfew,” you jeer. He wiggles the handle. “Go home.” 

“You’re gonna leave me out here like a stray cat? Come on. I came all the way down here,” he pleads. 

You turn your back to the door and shrug, “told you not to. Besides, not all of us have a soft spot for alley cats.” 

“Alpine is not an ally cat. Come on, I brought beer.” 

You scoff, “thought that piss didn’t do anything for ya?” 

“No, but it makes you a lot of fun.” 

You huff and push off the door. You turn and slide back the chain. You flip the lock back and open up. You arch a brow at your uninvited guested. 

“Thank you,” you trill and grab the six pack from him. He catches the door before you can swing it shut. He tuts and steps forward, pushing his elbow into the wood until you let it go. 

“Don’t play games. You know, I can tell when you’re in need of a good fucking. You don’t send any emojis.” He snaps the door shut behind him as you retreat with your prize. 

“Or maybe I was trying to get you to stop texting so I could enjoy my new toy in peace. Ever think of that. Sometimes It's about efficiency, not passion.” 

“Passion?” He scoffs as leans a hand on the wall and lifts a foot to undo his boot. 

“Probably not the right word for this,” you free a can from the plastic rings and shove the rest in the fridge. 

“You and your goddamn toys. Let me guess, this one has blue tooth.” 

“Does yours?” You strut out of the kitchen and flick his arm in passing. 

“No but it’s got all the features you need and you know it.” He taps your ass before you can elude him. 

You crack the can of beer and take a deep gulp. The TV continues to blare the reality show retrospective you’ve been feeding your time to. You flop on the couch and sigh. You suck down the grainy brew and swallow a gulp before it can escape your throat. 

Bucky looms behind the couch and grips the back. He leans over you. “How many of those until those hideous pajamas come off?” 

“Ha? What? You don’t wanna fuck me in my Spongebob jammies? They’re vintage.” 

He snorts, “you really are good a killing the mood, aren’t you?” 

“You’re a real Squidward sometimes, you know that?” You slurp another mouthful. 

“I have no idea what that is,” he says flatly as he tickles along your shoulder. 

You hate it. You hate him. Just a touch and you’re ready to go. Minutes ago, you were ready to pass out but now you’re wide awake. And fucking horny. 

“BPM going up, body temperature rising,” he runs his vibranium knuckles along your cheek and you wince away from him. 

“I hate when you do that.” You pull away and stand, plunking down the can. You huff and peel off your tank top. “I have an interview for a promotion tomorrow so hurry up.” 

“Romantic? Do you still wanna use the new toy? You know I don’t mind filling your mouth when you get like this.” 

You stick your tongue out at him and point to the bedroom. He rolls his eyes and strides off. You pause the television and take another swig of beer. You need to sleep and he’s good at fucking you into a coma. 

As you reach the bedroom, he’s already naked. His broad shoulders are etched in scars, the left one mottled with aged burns along the border of vibranium. His muscles cord down along his rib cage and sides.

A year ago, you would never expect a man like this to be standing naked in your bedroom. A super soldier. Bucky Barnes. 

He turns to you and wiggles the little square between his two fingers. The wrapped condom reflects the overhead light with its flashy packaging. He flexes his chest as you reach to undo your bra. 

“Should I pop it on now or can I get a taste first?” He asks with a flick of his tongue. 

You march to him and swipe the condom from his grasp. You jab his chest and he staggers back to the bed, his legs pressing against the frame. He teeters as he smirks down at you. 

“I’ll give you a ride, cowboy.” 

He falls back and spreads his arms wide. The bed squeaks beneath his weight. You push down your pajama pants and climb over him. You toss the mattress to the top of the bed as you raise yourself on your knees, hovering over his head as his thick hair fans out beneath.

He turns to graze his beard against your thigh. You purr and lower yourself to smother him in your cunt. He hums and laps at you eagerly. 

Mmm. This is exactly the stress relief you need. 

[fvsm4x]

☆FIRST LOVE [Gojo Satoru]

☆ SUMMARY: Months have passed since you slept with Gojo. And during that time, gojo seemed to avoid you, hurting your feelings in exchange without knowing.

— C.W: Gojo Satoru x female reader , angst to fluff

— WORD COUNT: 2k+

— TAGLIST: @starlightanyaaa @froufrousnowman @101strawberries101 @dazaisfavgf @the-lazy-perfectionist @prettyfacedream

JJK MLIST | GOJO SATORU MLIST

It has been a considerable amount of time since the last interaction you had with Gojo. Days turned into weeks, and then a whole month passed by. And now, two months have gone by since that unforgettable night when the two of you shared an intimate connection after getting a little too tipsy in a bar.

However, ever since that night, something changed. Gojo started to distance himself from you, avoiding any kind of interaction and making a conscious effort to stay out of your way. It's as if he's intentionally ignoring your presence, and any attempts to reach out to him through calls or texts are met with silence, with the messages sitting in the "delivered" status but never being read.

The pain in your heart is almost unbearable. You find yourself constantly questioning what went wrong, racking your brain for any possible misstep or disappointment that could have caused this sudden shift in Gojo's behavior. The thought that the night you shared was a mistake weighs heavily on your mind, causing immense emotional distress and self-doubt.

What makes this pain even more agonizing is the fact that you have harbored deep feelings for Gojo since your teenage years. From the moment you first laid eyes on him, there was an undeniable attraction and admiration that only grew stronger with time. The realization that he may not feel the same way about you is a devastating blow to your heart and soul.

But you find it difficult to place the blame solely on Gojo. After all, he is not just an ordinary person. In the world of jujutsu sorcerers, he holds immense importance and influence. He is widely recognized as the strongest sorcerer, possessing unparalleled strength and abilities. Not only that, but he has been blessed with not just one, but two curse techniques, making him a force to be reckoned with. His very existence has the power to shift the delicate balance of the world.

In contrast, you see yourself as someone insignificant in comparison. While you do possess the ability to see curses, just like Gojo, you feel like a mere observer in the grand tapestry of the jujutsu world. You don't hold any significant position or power, and you struggle to find a sense of usefulness or importance in comparison to someone like Gojo.

But little did you know, gojo had a reason for doing so.

Ever since that night you two shared, gojo started to harbor feelings, he had never felt before, it felt weird. As if butterflies were flying around in his stomach and his heart always skipping a beat when he sees you.

The mere thought of you brought a deep blush to his cheeks, and he couldn't help but feel a mixture of excitement and nervousness whenever he was in your presence. It was as if his entire world had been turned upside down, and he couldn't quite comprehend the intensity of these newfound emotions.

He had never experienced this kind of feeling before, and he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was. It was a strange sensation that consumed him, making him feel like he was on the verge of death if he didn't see you. Thinking he might be sick, he sought out Shoko and poured out his troubles to her.

Sitting in front of Shoko, who calmly sipped her warm coffee, he couldn't contain his panic any longer. "Shoko, I think something's wrong with me. I feel like I'm dying!" he exclaimed, jumping up from his chair and pacing back and forth in the room.

"The mighty Gojo Satoru is sick? That's a first," she joked, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. It was rare to see the strongest sorcerer in such a state of distress.

"I'm serious, Shoko! Every time I see her, I feel strange... My face turns red, my stomach does somersaults, and my heart skips a beat!" he whined, desperation evident in his voice. "Am I going to die, Shoko?"

Shoko looked at him with wide eyes, taking a moment to process his words before asking, "Do you mean y/n?"

Gojo nodded, his expression filled with worry. "Yeah..."

Setting her coffee down on a nearby table, Shoko turned to Gojo with a mischievous smirk. "Oh no! You‘re going to die satoru." she sarcastically exclaimed.

Gojo's eyes dropped immediately as his panic intensified. "What? But I can't die yet... I'm still young."

Narrowing her eyes at him, Shoko chuckled softly. Gojo approached her, placing his hands on either side of her, trapping her against the chair. "Why are you laughing?!" he shouted, his grip on the chair tightening.

"Do you want to know the name of your sickness, Satoru?" Shoko asked, leaning against her palm.

"Of course!" he replied eagerly.

"You're lovesick," she stated matter-of-factly.

Gojo's eyes widened at her words. Lovesick? Did that mean he was in love with you? The mere thought of it caused his face to flush a deep shade of red. "W-what!? No, I'm not in love with her," he denied, his voice wavering.

"Look at you, all embarrassed... I can't believe the all-mighty Gojo Satoru has finally fallen in love," Shoko sighed. "I feel bad for y/n."

"What am I supposed to do?! I've never been in love before," Gojo whined, his distress evident.

"Well, talk to her more often, take her out on dates... I don't know much about love, I've never experienced it myself, who knows maybe she‘s feeling the same." Shoko suggested.

"But... I've been ignoring her for the past two months," Gojo confessed.

"Oh," Shoko facepalmed. "Why are you so stupid.“

„I‘m not stupid!“

Suddenly, the door swung open, and you entered the room, clutching some medical papers in your arms. "Shoko, I got the-" you began, but your words trailed off as you looked up and took in the scene before you.

Your heart momentarily stopped as you saw Shoko sitting in the chair, with Gojo leaning over her, his hands on either side of the chair, effectively trapping her inside. A wave of unease washed over you. Had you interrupted something? They were too close for your comfort, and you couldn't help but wonder if there was something going on between them. Was that why Gojo had been ignoring you?

The pain in your heart was palpable, and your once bright smile faded into a crestfallen expression. With a heavy sigh, you cast your gaze downward, unable to bear the sight before you any longer. "Sorry for interrupting," you managed to utter, your voice laced with disappointment and a hint of resignation. "I'll bring the papers back later." Without waiting for a response, you turned on your heels, your footsteps heavy with a mix of sadness and frustration, and closed the door with a loud thud.

"Wait!" you heard a voice call out from behind the door, but you continued walking away, unable to bear the sight of them together. The sound of their voices faded as you distanced yourself from the room.

Meanwhile, inside the room, Gojo removed himself from the chair and took a step back, his gaze fixed on the closed door where you had stood just moments ago. His thoughts were interrupted by a voice, breaking through his contemplation.

"Don't drag me into this," Shoko's voice cut through the silence, her eyes boring into Gojo's. He met her gaze with a glare, unsure of how to respond.

"She probably misunderstood. Go talk to her before it's too late," Shoko advised, her tone firm. "Now, whoosh," she added, pointing her finger towards the door. "Get out."

—-

Over the next few days, something strange happened. Instead of Gojo avoiding you, you found yourself avoiding him. Even though Shoko had encouraged him to talk to you, he still kept his distance. Deep down, Gojo knew he was in love with you, but he didn't know how to act around you.

He was scared of doing something wrong and embarrassing himself. He couldn't quite grasp the fact that he was in love with you. He thought it was just a small crush that would eventually fade away, but it didn't. Every day, he felt more desperate to talk to you, but he couldn't bring himself to approach you.

Then, one day, you bumped into him while he was on his way to a mission. You couldn't take it anymore. Your heart hurt every time you wanted to talk to him but held back. The constant avoidance had taken a toll on you, and the pain of unspoken affection had become unbearable. You couldn't bear the uncertainty anymore and wanted to confess your feelings to Gojo, even if it meant facing rejection. You just wanted closure, hoping that even if he didn't feel the same way, you could move on from this torment.

So, there you were, standing behind Gojo as he walked towards the car that would take him on his mission. He was avoiding you again, but this time, you decided to take a leap of faith. You called out to him, "Satoru!" He flinched and turned to meet your gaze.

"Satoru," you spoke with a shaky breath, "You know, back in our teenage years, I had this crush on you. Silly, right? I mean, I never thought it would lead anywhere. We were friends, and I kept my feelings under wraps. Fast forward to that night we spent together – it felt like a breakthrough. I let myself hope that maybe, just maybe, there was something more between us. But then you started avoiding me like I had the plague, and it hit hard. But, you know, I tried to brush off the awkwardness, thinking maybe I misread things. Yet, every time we crossed paths, it felt like there was this unspoken tension, a lingering question that neither of us dared to ask. I couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted, and it was driving me crazy. So, here's the deal, Satoru – If you don't see us as more than friends, I want you to say it. I'm not asking for poetic rejection; I just need the truth. So, Satoru, whether it's a yes or a no, I just need to hear it. I'm not looking for pity or grand gestures, just a straightforward answer.“

Your breath hitched with each word. Your gaze, usually steady, faltered, found solace in staring at the ground, avoiding the intensity of his eyes.

Gojo's eyes widened in surprise as your words hit him. He turned around completely, staring at you in disbelief. His breath hitched, and he felt his heart racing unexpectedly. Your confession catched him off guard,

In an instant, Gojo's initial disbelief transformed into a genuine smile, a glimmer of happiness breaking through. Without a second thought, he closed the distance, wrapping you in a tight embrace. Your attempt to speak was interrupted by his sudden hug,

"I've been an idiot for avoiding this for so long." He whispered

You tried to gently push him back, insisting, "I just need an answer, satoru" but Gojo held on,

"That scene you saw with Shoko wasn't what it seemed," he admitted, a sheepish smile forming. "I was actually talking to her about my feelings for you. I realized I've been an idiot for not realizing it sooner." He continued, "After that night we spent together, I started feeling all weird – butterflies and my heart doing somersaults. I thought I was sick or something, so I avoided you. Stupid, right? But now, I don't want to run away from it anymore. I like you, Y/N."

Your eyes widened at Gojo's unexpected confession. The weight of the unspoken feelings suddenly lifted, "Wait, you... like me?" you stammered, trying to process his words. Gojo chuckled, his hand rubbing the back of his neck

"Yeah, more than I thought. I was just too dense to realize it. And I'm sorry for avoiding you; I thought I was going crazy with those feelings."

Gojo, still smiling, took a step closer. "So, how about we stop avoiding and start enjoying these feelings?" he suggested, his gaze softening. Without waiting for a response, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a gentle, yet lingering kiss.

[reveluving]

Phillip Graves getting jealous because his shy wife is getting flirted on by someone else but she doesn't know how to respond?? Yes please!!

(could be sfw at first but when they get back home graves pounds his wife against any surface he sees because he can't stand seeing his wife getting flirted on right in front of him)

YUUUUH I HAVE JUST THE THING!! I know, it's been AGES with these, and this one from last year but I still hope you like it! and I know you said doing the nasty back home, but I thought "man, I'm already here. might as well!" and filthy-ize(???) it even more for good measure 😘💗

Includes; soft (& slightly mean dom) & possessive graves, fingerf~cking, unprotected sex (p in v), petnames ('sugar', 'pretty girl'), licking, biting & marking, praising, dirty talking, mentions of voyeurism & exhibitionism!!

COD x shy!wife thots closed! Thank you, everyone, for your time & amazing minds! I sincerely hope I can do this again with y'all soon! 💌

Come & check out my COD m.list!

It happens. 

A lot.

The library, your favourite diner, your flower shop—anywhere.

It happens more than you can imagine, but with Phil around, it’s mostly from afar. The kind where they could only dream about making a move on you, if not for the guard dog with the sharp tongue.

Hence, when he’s not around, he worries a little for you, but he knows you can protect yourself when needed, thanks to the self-defence lessons he has given you when you were still dating.

So, imagine the unlucky bastard who thought it was a good idea to take advantage of your gracious hospitality, not knowing your husband was around.

It happened when he had finished work, but instead of heading home, he took the route where your flower shop was. Closing time was ten minutes ago so he knew you’d be waiting for him at the cafe next door, probably nursing a cup of your favourite drink or nibbling on a pastry.

He hated it whenever he couldn’t reach you on the dot or before, no matter how many times you’ve reassured him. 

Reaching the neighbourhood shops was like a breath of fresh air, enjoying the sense of familiarity and the breeze as he turned the corner, passing by the cafe first.

But with a glance, his brows furrowed, seeing that you were nowhere in sight. He quickly took it as a sign that you were still working, though a thirty-minute overtime was almost uncommon of you.

He parked his convertible close to the entrance of your shop but still out of view, and for a brief moment, he caught sight of you through the window. 

And just his mood lifted, ready to greet you with open arms, his smile dropped.

You were dealing with a customer, a man likely in his 30s and dressed, well, if one were told to dress formally, and they did it haphazardly, then that was exactly what it was. His body language was a little awkward, almost unsure what pose may look alluring in your eyes.

Though Phil had a knack for judging certain people by their looks, if and only if their personality rubbed him the wrong way, he didn’t have an issue thinking of the worst insults about the man, if not for the uncomfortable smile on your face.

So, leaning against the wall, away from you or the man’s sight, he listened in. 

“So, your husband’s in the military, huh?” He asked, but Phil wasn’t dumb enough to think it wasn’t a sneer in disguise. Probably thought he held some rookie position, “Must be hard not having someone to hold to every night.”

Phil didn’t bother hiding the scornful look on his face.

“It’s not bad,” He immediately perked up at the sound of your voice. The gentle sound that could heal even his worst wounds, “He finds time to check up on me.” 

Whether or not you were telling the truth or if you were downplaying your thoughts if his absence really did bother you, he’ll ask you later, but for now, he wanted to tell you how proud he was. Not letting some schmuck stick their nose in someone else’s business, and your marriage, no less.

“Well, sure, but look at you! I don’t know about you but if I had a girl like you? Shoot, I don’t I’d ever get any work done,” The audacity. Phil’s jaw tightened, listening to him weakly defend himself when you didn’t respond, undoubtedly displeased by his unnecessary opinion, “But that’s just me, y’know.”

“Right, um,” You turned to the row of flower pots, using the second to roll your eyes to the back of your head before showing him the bunch of bluebells in your hands, “How about some bluebells?”

The man pretended to think, “Nah, I mean, they’re cute but I’m looking for something… more,” He then leaned in, resting his arm on the counter, “A little bland, if I’m being honest with you.”

You forced a smile, but Phil, oh Phil.

He wasn’t smiling. 

Who was this man, no, who was this kid to not see how uncomfortable you were with his god-awful ‘flirting’ skills and judge your taste in your very own store?

“That’s fine, I’m sure we can find something else.” Oh, that pitiful tone of yours. Just how long has this man been bothering you?

You bit down a sigh, placing the bluebells back into their pot before walking back to the back of the counter. You knelt, possibly looking for something else, though Phil wouldn’t blame you if you were doing so to drown him out for a bit.

Phil had listened long enough. Moving off the wall, he clicked on the lock button of his car keys. He spun his keys on his finger as he entered the shop, the rattling sounds prompted the man to follow his figure. His eyebrows knitted further, more so when Phil casually stopped right in front of the counter as if used to coming over.

His eyes darted from Phil’s attire; simple yet sophisticated, and how he carried himself, then the convertible behind him. The sudden insecurity forming in the guy’s mind was a no-brainer.

You must’ve heard the extra pair of footsteps and the keys, “I’ll be right with you!” 

He didn’t respond, opting to eye the man—Chad, which he would later learn—with full of judgement. The latter flinched when their eyes met, though he tried to act cool soon by clearing his throat.

But the stare may have been too much for him, as he asked, his voice less confident than before, “Do I know you?” 

“You tell me.” He responded loud enough for you to hear, and just as he hoped, you straightened, visibly lighting up at the sight of him. 

“Phil!” You cheered, already forgetting about the customer as you rushed over to your husband for a hug, “I thought you wouldn’t be back until tonight?”

He shrugged, wrapping one of his arms around you while he caressed the apple of your cheek with his free hand, “Change o’plans. Drove here as fast as I could.” He gave you a lazy smile, more so when you jutted out your bottom lip, pouting at his statement. 

“Phil, you know how I feel about you speeding home,” You sighed, despite leaning into his touch, “But I’m glad you’re back. Safe.”

You couldn’t stay mad at him, not with that cheeky smile of his before he pressed his lips onto yours. You could feel the upturn of his lips when you yelped, and he didn’t even bother hiding his amusement—his delighted huff when you returned the kiss.

But before he could feel you, before he could melt into your hands as they held his face, you broke the kiss, almost hiding in his chest for a moment before motioning to the man watching—his face that of panicked realization.

“Phil—Customer…”

Ew.

Well, at least he learnt he had messed with the wrong married woman.

Phil suddenly grinned, and a painfully fake one, judging by the lack of positive emotion, or any emotion in his eyes as he looked at Chad.

“Y’here for an arrangement?”

“U–Uh, no. I’m just… looking around. Thinking of buying one for my, uh, girl.”

The man wasn’t dumb enough to think the smirk on Graves’ face wasn’t the face of mockery. A man who has done enough interrogations to know just how much he was bullshitting.

“Huh, Y’must be lookin’ for a special one if you’re makin’ my girl workin’ overtime,” He glanced at the clock just hanging by the door, his arm not leaving you once, “Y’sleepin’ in the dog house or somethin’?” 

“Phil.” You hissed, and ever so cutely, might your husband add. You briefly apologised to Chad, even if you wanted nothing more than to send him on his way.

“Sorry, sorry,” If you noticed his lack of sincerity, you didn't call him out on it. Graves held his hand out, the corner of his lips twitched when Chad took a step back, “Graves. Commander and CEO. Proud husband of this pretty girl right here.” 

Chad accepted, albeit hesitantly, nearly squawking when Phil purposely squeezed his hand. He had a feeling he wouldn't mind breaking his arm if it weren't for the obvious repercussions and well, you being there. 

“Mr Thompson was just looking for a bouquet for his girlfriend. It might take a minute so you can hang around for a bit while I help him.” You explained, standing close to your husband, now that he was with you.

“Or,” Phil spoke, and you should’ve suspected something was up just by his tone, despite his so-called generous offer, “I help him look for what he needs, while you go ahead and close up, get your bag, lock the back room and all.”

You raised your brows, “Phil, are you sure?”

He hummed, “C’mon. ‘Bout time I put my flower knowledge into good use. And who knows?” He glanced at Chad, sharply. With his eyes on the unwanted customer, he leaned to your side, as if whispering, despite making sure Chad heard him loud and clear, “It’s probably nothin’ more than a lil’ trouble in paradise. Nothin’ I can’t sort out, man to man.”

You thought for a moment. You had your suspicions when Chad stopped by the same time your shift ended. And while you wouldn’t have minded, he wasn’t exactly helpful about his request either. Giving you doubtful answers such as his supposed girlfriend’s favourite colour or the occasion. 

Plus, you were a little eager to be away from Chad, even for a short while.

In the end, you nodded, much to Chad’s horror.

“Okay, I just need to organize a few boxes in the back,” You squeezed Phil's arm, “Thank you. I won’t take long.”

Sliding his hand down your arm, he raised your hand to his lips before letting you go.

“Take all the time y’need, pretty girl,” And as soon as you were out of sight, his voice dropped, the upturn of his lips now in a manner that Chad knew this was going to be anything but a quick talk amongst men about which apology flowers were the best, “Take all the time y’need.”

His smile was nowhere to be seen as he leaned against the counter, crossing his arms as he watched Chad pinching a leaf of random flower in the guise of interest.

But by the third flower, Graves had enough, surprising Chad with his authoritative tone.

“Y’just gonna stand there and ruin my wife’s flowers or are y’goin’ to buy somethin’ and get out?” 

“I’m…” Chad began but Phil didn’t give him the satisfaction to explain himself. He didn’t need to.

“Look. I’m really fuckin’ tired, and my girl is, too, but I’m sure you’re too busy trying to look down her dress to notice that.”

“That’s—”

“Cut,” He didn’t even need to raise a single finger as the tone he normally used on his team on a bad or serious day was enough to shut the man up, “... the bullshit, alright? Y’can buy all the flowers you want to impress her, save a puppy as soon as you see her coincidentally walk by at the park. Fuckin’ pick-me.”

The impatient smile plastered on his face told Chad everything about the commander’s patience.

“I know a degenerate when I see one.” Chad knew not to trust how calm Phil sounded, “And I know she can defend herself just fine. Hell, I taught her everything she needs to know t’deal with boys like you. But I can tell y’one thing; I’ll do so much worse than what she’s already capable of.”

Graves’ heavy footsteps sounded like a disaster waiting to happen in mere seconds before he stood in the middle of the shop.

“Might wanna get out while y’can.” He gritted out, and Chad didn’t waste a second to find out what would’ve happened if he didn’t that very instance, whether it was from you or your husband.

You returned just in time to find Graves appreciating the tulips, though, unbeknownst to you, he was also slightly miffed that some were stained by Chad’s hands alone.

“Oh, did he find what he needed?”

“‘Guess so. Took off as soon as he figured it out. He didn’t buy anythin’ though,” He swiftly carried the bag for you, pulling you in for a kiss on your forehead, “Sorry he wasted y’time.”

“That’s alright,” You grinning, not expecting him to apologize over that, “I just need to keep the flowers in the back. Mind helping me?”

Of course he didn't mind.

He moved with you, carrying much more stock to the cool room where the unsold flowers were kept. During his second run, he lightly tapped you on the ass, stealing a kiss before telling you to lock the register instead. You did just that, carefully organizing the cash and coins before locking it.

Phil worked with ease, pushing necessary pots and displays to one side and pulling the blinds down like the tasks were at the back of his hand. But he didn’t draw the blinds close all the way, though, leaving a small opening at the bottom of the windows where you and Graves could see the sun shining through and the feet of passers-by. 

But unbeknownst to you, he locked the front door and with great care, avoided the usual click.

He shamelessly glanced at you at every possible moment, watching you sit prettily as you focused on your task behind the counter. 

Once his side was done, he approached you, stannding in between your legs as soon as you locked the register.

“All done.” You smiled, crinkles forming in your eyes.

“Perfect.” He opened up his arms, closing the space in between as you embraced. But just as you basked in the wholesome reunion, you froze up, eyes wide at a familiar tent prodding your stomach. He didn't bother concealing his amusement, his smile grew at your giggles, showering one side of your face with kisses to hear more of you. 

“Thought he'd never leave.” He murmured against your skin with zero shame, which prompted you to pull back.

“You threw him out?” You asked in disbelief.

“He threw himself out,” He shrugged, not exactly lying but telling you the whole truth either. He cooed at your little frown, even holding his hand up in a saluting manner, “I’m serious. Scout's honour.” 

“Were you even a scout?” 

“Nope,” He responded without missing a beat, “But I do know how to tie a knot.” 

“Phil!” You smacked his arm, but it did nothing to deter him, “I wasn't even gone that long.” 

“Four minutes was all I needed.” He brushed his nose against your neck, looping his arms around you. You couldn't help but melt, sighing but more so in contentment than disappointment. Granted, you were anything but the latter, but who knows where your business would be if Phil did, well, whatever to your customers the way he did to Chad.

“He was bothering ya.” You knew it wasn't a question and there was no point denying it, so you hummed in confirmation.

“Kinda figure that out after a while,” You shrugged, though you didn't want him to worry either, “I, uh, had my suspicion as soon as I asked him what he was looking for.”

“Yeah? What did he really tell ya?” 

“Just said he wanted some pretty flowers for a pretty lady, and then,” You mimicked the awkward eyebrow-wiggles he did to you, much to Phil’s amusement and disdain, “And then said no to all of my suggestions.”

Phil’s tutting was akin to a Southern mother's, being his blood and all. That, and he was having second-hand embarrassment—to think Chad thought he'd have a chance using that line on you.

Hell, on anyone.

“It was getting a little embarrassing, honestly.” You couldn't help but snort, only for your smile to grow when he, too, expressed his amusement. 

‘A little’ was putting it lightly.

“You and me, sugar.”  

You leaned your weight against him just as he did against the counter, figuring that this was one of those days where he needed to just relax. Be around you as if you exuded great energy, and in his eyes, you were.

A far cry from the more despicable chaos he and his partnering team have to deal with for a living.

You brushed your fingers along his stubble, smiling to yourself at the familiar, prickly sensation. Ever the perceptive man, he angled his face so your lips were pressed on his instead of his cheek.

It was much needed for the both of you as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss. Though, you tried not to go too far with it, your nerves rising as your eyes flitted to the door, despite Phil’s breathy reassurance that he locked it.

Noticing your hesitance, he broke the kiss to rest his head in the crook of your neck. His warm breath tickled you, more so when his hands languidly moved up and down your body.

But then, his hands didn't stop moving upwards.

He swiftly pulled down the straps of your dress, trailing his lips along your shoulder. Though the dress wasn't fully removed, the way you haphazardly held the front of it against your chest, amplifying your cleavage which was just as alluring as you were topless.

“Phil!” You choked out, and yet, he continued. Licking across your newly exposed skin with the tip of his tongue. Starting from the collarbone, down to your tits when he squeezed your breasts together, and then, sucking on the plush at random spots. Eager to leave a mark wherever he could with shameless sounds of suckling and pops, “Here?!” 

If the way your hand shot up to his hair, massaging his scalp and pulling his head close instead of pushing him away was anything to go by, he knew dead set on making you scream.

He took a step back, encouraging you to stand up before hooking his arms under your ass, lifting you effortlessly to seat you on the counter.

His bulge was snug against you, thanks to his taller stature. The way his hands slid down your thighs prompted you to wrap your legs around him, despite the growing warmth in your face at the lewd display. There was something about the sliver of possibility of being watched that raised both your worries and anticipation, despite the opaqueness of the cream-coloured window blinds.

Plus, the shop wasn't exactly soundproof either.

He leaned forward, forcing you to lie back on the surface. His lips hadn't slowed down since, enjoying your squirms and breathless moans as he peppered your neck in kisses before raising his head.

“My wife's a beaut, isn't she?” He whispered against your temple, rolling one of your tits in between his fingers before sliding his hand down to your thigh, squeezing the plush of it, “Got these boys actin’ stupid around ya.” 

You gasped when his hand slid further under your skirt. He toyed with the waistband of your panties, teasingly pulling them up and wedging the lacy material in between your sopping pussy.

“Even I can't resist her sweet lil’ charm,” He purred, pulling your panties to the side and then bunching the hem of your dress for him to delight in all its glory, “Y’know that, don't cha?” 

He swiped two of his fingers across your lips. Even the softest touch elicited the most delicious squelch he had ever heard. 

He hummed in approval, teasing you to his heart's delight, “But she's also so, so dirty, deep down,” He made sure you made the slightest mess, letting your juices drip bit by bit, down to your tight hole and the counter itself, “And this—this is only f’me to see, right, pretty girl?’ 

He captured your lips with his before you could even muster out a breathless ‘yes’, the kiss ending just as quickly as it happened before tapping your lips with his fingers.

You didn't need to be told, but that didn't mean it was any less embarrassing. But his approving hum at your first, kitten-like lick was encouraging. It had you chasing after his praises, verbal or otherwise. 

His cock was downright throbbing, wishing it was his cock you were eagerly drooling on instead of his fingers, but who was he to say he wasn't enjoying the view in hand either? 

Once he was sure they were wet enough, he slid them out of your mouth, crudely enjoying the string of saliva for a second before dropping his fingers to your cunt. 

He mirrored your parted lips, watching your face scrunch up as he eased in one finger. Your whimper was pitiful, and the slightly wicked side of him couldn’t help but coo at you almost condescendingly, knowing you could handle something much bigger than his mere finger, even if they were much thicker than yours. 

He set a torturing pace, taking in the way your body moved, rolling your hips in hopes you’d have his fingers knuckles-deep in you. The way you half-heartedly covered your face with one hand was endearing, probably too overwhelmed by his unapologetic stare.

Then, he cranked up the speed with two fingers, greedy for more of your juices leaking out each time he moved in and out. And by the time you were clenching around three fingers, he was ruthless with his pace. 

Unforgiving. 

He looked euphoric just from bringing the pleasure to you, tipping his head back as he listened to you struggling to hold back your moans and whines whenever he pulled out to tease and slap at your clit.

“Colour?” As casual as he tried to sound, he was just as breathless as you were.

“Green…” You whined, pleading him to continue, even if it felt like you were overstimulating, “Phil, please… Please…!”

You didn’t have to repeat, for he amped up his pace and chased after the climax when the pitch of your voice heightened, arching your back like you weren’t sure if you wanted him to carry on or push him away when you were getting close.

He didn’t falter, nipping on your shoulder just a tad harder just before you trembled, cumming and clenching hard around his fingers. He cupped your face with his other hand, soothing you from your high with praises and kisses. 

“Such a good girl, my good girl. Always so brave f’me, makin’ the sweetest faces. None of those boys gets t’see what I see.” 

It wasn’t long before he carefully slid his fingers out, comforting you each time you whimpered or twitched.

Opting to continue caressing your face, he took the chance to snag a taste of you. Savouring the one taste he had been dying for each time he was away for work.

But he didn’t finish it all. As much as he wanted to, he needed to save the rest for his cock, itching to have a mere feel of your wetness.

Speaking of, he was straining, standing proud and curved a little as the tip, just a hint of red, nearly touched his belly button as soon as he pulled his trousers down. It yearned to feel you, tight and hot, his extra-vulgar actions were the results of restraining himself. 

He shuddered a little—it was entrancing, holding one of your legs up for him to brush his lips against and seeing his cock slide up and down your pussy lips. 

Even after prepping you well, it felt like his cockhead was breaching your walls. You let out a breathy sigh, tilting your head at the upside windows, tensing up at the sight of passersby’s feet at the foot of the glass.

“What do y’think, pretty girl?” He murmured against your leg, still pushing into you, “Do y’think that Thompson guy’s around, wonderin’ why the window’s closed while the car’s still out there?”

The way your head tilted back against the counter in ecstasy, the last rays of the sun shining down on your skin. Even with the AC still on, it stopped neither of you from sweating. The thinnest layer of perspiration, especially gathering along your throat, down to the valley of your breasts—oh, what a shame it would be if he didn’t have even a single lick of it.  

And he did just that, leaning in to give one of your tits a teasing lick.

Those half-lidded eyes, that drunken smile—oh, he was losing it.

He felt like the most blessed man in the world.

“Eyes on me, bunny. He can listen all he wants but this—it’s you and me.”

And it wouldn’t take long for you to reach your peak, Phil kept his eyes on your facial expression because if it wasn’t the sexiest look he had ever seen before he, too, cums with you. In you.

Holding himself up with one hand beside your head, he used the other to caress your face, allowing you all the time in the world to catch your breath. But truth be told, he had fucked the senses right out of you.

“You alright?” “Mmm…” Your murmurs had him chuckling as he carefully gathered you in his arms.

“Can y'walk? Or do I have to carry you? Because y'know I don't mind either way.” Not especially the latter. He may not be as buff as some of his team but he feels good being able to prove the assumptions wrong. So wrong.

You shook your head, and though none of you were even certain what your answer was, Phil somehow understood, but not before letting you collect yourself for as long as you needed. There was no need to rush. Not now.

“Alright, pretty girl. I can do that.”

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

[starlightxsvt]

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!

© startlightxsvt 2023 | All rights reserved. Do not copy, repost, translate, adapt, or repurpose any of my works.

[wcters]

𝗦𝗣𝗜𝗟𝗟𝗘𝗗 𝗖𝗢𝗙𝗙𝗘𝗘 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗡𝗘𝗪 𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗥𝗧𝗦

pairing: daniel ricciardo x fem!reader

word count: 1.9k+

summary: you run into daniel at a race, completely oblivious to who he is and what he does ━━ or ━━ a spilled coffee turns into a lot more than you thought it would

warnings: readers job is a crime scene investigator (it’s important, i promise), some awkward moments (i know nothing about flirting), some swearing, violence, sexual innuendos | may not be the best writing as it is my first time writing for f1 and i’m still new, first time trying instagram dm’s and things like that so let me know what you think!

The sound of the apartment door opening fills your senses as you wake your way into the apartment, pulling your shoes off and putting your keys in the bowl. You brush a hand through your hair as you breathe out a big sigh. When you get home, you finally let the days stress hit you, then you brush it off, and separate yourself from your work. It’s important not to bring home what you do. It would be damaging. As you make your way to the kitchen to refill your water-bottle, your phone rings from inside your pocket.

Setting your bottle down, you answer it without checking who it is. “Hey!” Your friends voice chimes out. By the sound of it, she needs a favour. “Hey. What do you need?” You ask her, lightly laughing as she gets out a “what do you mean?” “I know your voice. Now spit it out before I reconsider.”

“You know how I was going with Kayla to the Miami Grand Prix?” You nod, forgetting she can’t see you. “Yeah ━━ what was that again?” “It’s a formula one race being held.” You hum in response. “Well, she came down with a cold, no one else is available, and these paddock passes were too expensive to not use. Will you go with me?” You can hear her smile over the phone. “I don’t know . . .” “Come on y/n, you never go out unless it’s grocery shopping, work, or when I drag you out. This will be good for you. Plus, it may get you into formula one so I have another person to talk about it to.” You chuckle at that.

“First of all ━━ you are dragging me out, and second of all you do talk to me about it.” She lets put a huff that you know means “you know what I mean”. You do never really go out. It’s not that you’re a hermit and don’t want to, you just don’t get a lot of opportunities to and when you do, you can’t help but remember places you’ve been to at work and what happened there. At least at these Grand Prix thing nothing bad has happened as you know. “Fine.” She squeals and says thank you a million times before telling you when it is and when she’ll pick you up.

That’s how you end up in the paddock at the Miami International Autrodrome, following your friend around as she explains different things to you and fangirls over people. You remember some names that she had told you during one of her rants, and you smile when you see the smile on her face. You’re glad that she’s having fun, that makes you happy and makes this more enjoyable. During your walk, you stop at a coffee bar and grab an iced coffee while she gets a redbull coffee ━━ whatever that means ━━ and explains how the redbull team has it at every race. “You’ve wanted to try that since forever right?” You ask her, trading coffees and taking a sip. “Yeah. It’s supposed to taste amazing and also gives me the boost of caffeine coffee is supposed because it doesn’t from how much I drink.”

As you sip and she chugs her drink, you stop in front of a bathroom and she instructs you to wait as she goes in. You wait a little ways away, tucked out of the way and scrolling through your phone. It seems the person coming your way was also doing that as he accidentally bumped into you. You drop your phone, coffee lid opening and spilling down your shirt. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!”

The first thing you note is that this coffee is incredibly cold, and that the man who bumped into you has an Australian accent. You bring yourself back and out of the cold feeling, facing the man. He must work here because he has a RB racing shirt on and a lanyard. “It’s alright.” You politely smile and pick up your phone. It’s not. It’s cold as fuck and it’s wet. “I wasn’t watching where I was going and,” his voice trails off as you look around for an area to get something to clean you up.

There’s a pause before “I have an extra shirt in my room if you want.” The man offers. You’re a bit puzzled as to why he has his own room but you’re too concerned on the feeling of coffee in your shirt. “You sure you wont murder me?” You asked, arms crossed and eyebrow raised. “Yes, I’m sure.” You stare at him for a little longer before you nod and tell him to lead the way. “I’m Daniel,” he tells you. You introduce yourself as you wrap your arms around yourself, feeling self conscious at the way people are staring at you two.

“Straight to murder, eh?” He joked as you followed him. You shrugged, “it’s my first instinct. My job revolves around it.” He looked at you with a puzzled look, as if asking you to explain. “I’m a crime scene investigator,” you revealed as you got to a door and he led you in. You take in the surroundings as he opens a closet and digs around to find you a clean shirt. “My job is to determine ━━ well, more like make an educated guess ━━ on if the person was assaulted and how.” You thank him as he passes you a shirt he finds. He stands waiting for you to continue until he lets out an “oh!” and turns around, blush on his cheeks as he apologizes.

“How do you do that?” He seemed genuinely interested in your conversation, not just making small talk to cover the fact that a woman he’s just met is changing behind him. “The main thing I do is blood pattern analysis,” you start, voice slightly muffled as you skip your shirt off, “blood behaves to specific scientific principles as all liquids do, and so i use that information and what blood there is at a crime scene to do that.” You grab the RB shirt from between your legs and slip it on, telling him he can turn around.

“So we can analyze the size, shape, distribution, location and use the behaviour of blood, physics like the velocity and capillary action, math to determine things such as where did it come from, what caused the wounds, and how were they positioned to make a guess or determine what happened.” Daniel makes a slightly shocked face. “You can do all that from a blood splatter?” “Yeah, just like any other pattern,” you shrug while smiling, you feel proud, “I took a course on it. It’s really just looking at what’s around you. It takes a trained eye.”

“I think you’re one of the smartest people I have ever met.” He tells you, and you blush. “Thanks.” You mumble. You both stand there before you mumble about having to get back. “Oh right, of course. I’m sorry.” Daniel apologies as he reaches for the door and opens it, allowing you to go first. You walk side by side as you continue to talk about your work. When you get to the end of the garage, you say goodbye and you head to try and find your friend.

You eventually bump into her at the same coffee station. “Where were you?” she almost yells, “I was so worried!” “A guy spilled coffee on me and then offered to get me another shirt. I think he worked her. His name was Daniel.” Your friend finally notices the shirt you’re wearing and a look comes across her face. “Daniel Ricciardo?” “I don’t know. I didn’t get his last name.” You shrug, not realizing what the big deal is. Who’s this Daniel Ricciardo and why is he so important.

“What did he look like?” She pestered. “Tall, curly brunette, Australian,” she interrupts you with a gasp. You look at her confused. “That was Daniel Ricciardo, the F1 driver?” You look confused until you remember how she was talking about him a couple weeks ago. “Oh . . . Cool.” “I can’t believe you’re being so chill about this.” She shakes her head with a small smile. “I just don’t know that much about this, and don’t really care if he’s famous. He bumped into me and ruined my good shirt.” You tell her, lifting up the shirt. You laughs and let’s put a “true.”

You continue the day as you would’ve, her telling you more about Daniel Ricciardo, and pointing out his car during the race, as well as the other drivers. You’re starting to understand a little more. She gets a couple photos signed from other drivers and you both leave happy. You happy that you learned some new things and got a break from being inside your house and her happy that she got to do this. You knew it had been something she wanted to do forever.

When you go to bed that night after throwing your dirty shirt in the laundry with another load, you hang up the shirt that Daniel gave you and went to bed thinking about what happened that day, and that you also didn’t get a refund for your coffee.

yourusername

liked by yourfriend, kayla.k, and 238 others

yourusername had a fun weekend! thank you @yourfriend for the tickets and to the guy who spilled my coffee: you are forgiven because of the new shirt you got me, but i want a refund for my coffee 😌

view all 27 comments

yourfriend can’t believe you met daniel ricciardo and yet you want a refund for your coffee

↳ yourusername that was a good shirt :((

↳ kayla.k you met daniel ricciardo?!

kayla.k never been more mad at myself for being sick

user1 rip coffee

user2 so jealous

danielricciardo

liked by yourusername, landonorris, and 556,927 others

danielricciardo miami was great. not sure if he is alive but very happy for lando norris. and to the girl who’s coffee i spilled: i am very sorry but at least you got a t-shirt out of it 😄

view all 1,763 comments

landonorris i’m not sure if i’m alive either but thanks mate

↳ danielricciardo always

user3 that last photo 💀 you know he messed up something

user4 you spilled someone’s coffee? how’d that happen?

charles_leclerc from the videos i have, i’m not sure he’s alive either 😂

yourfriend @yourusername

↳ yourusername what?

↳ yourfriend he talked about you!

↳ yourusername i guess so 🤷‍♀️ i still want my refund

user5 he’s too cute

f1gossip

liked by user1, user2, and 62,947 others

f1gossip daniel ricciardo was seen out for dinner last night in miami with mystery girl a couple days after the miami grand prix. who do you think she is? 👀

view all 2,286 comments

user1 maybe that’s the girl who he was talking about in his instagram caption

↳ user2 i doubt it. it’s not like their meeting was a big thing, he just spilt her coffee

user3 i’m just wondering why we’re still getting all up their personal lives

user4 you can tell it’s daniel from how tall he is . . . or the girl is incredibly short

↳ user5 i think it’s just daniel’s giant frame

user6 don’t crush my dreams 😩😩😩

yourfriend @yourusername girl what

yourfriend @yourusername text me asap

You didn’t even have time to see your friends comment on instagram before she’s calling you. “Hello?” You asked, making your way to your apartment. “Was that you in that post?” “What post?” You heard a scoff of disbelief. “The one with daniel and a girl who likes strikingly similar to you on a date last night? You just told me you were busy. Not busy with daniel ricciardo!” She yelled the last bit and you had to pull your phone away from your ear.

“I didnt know I had to! It was just a date.” You explained as you opened your apartment door and took off your shoes. “It doesn’t matter if it’s just a date, and it doesn’t even matter that much about who it’s with, you haven’t been on a date in forever.” You could tell she was genuinely happy for you when she said that and you smiled and blushed. You shrugged even though she couldn’t see you. “You have to meet me at a coffee shop and spill.” “Alright. Twenty minutes?” You replied. “See you soon girlie.”

You were there within fifteen minutes and were greeted with your friend smiling at you. You hugged her as she got up to greet you and then you sat down, taking a sip of the coffee she ordered you. “Besides the fact that he’s a famous driver, i am really happy for you babe. It’s good to see you happy and taking some time for yourself.” She told you as she grabbed your hand across the table. You smiled at her as you thanked her. She gave you a look as if asking you to start talking. “He’s really nice.” You gushed.

Her smile got wider than you’ve ever seen. “That’s so good! What happened? Where did you go?” “He picked up from my apartment almost 10 minutes early,” “ooh he’s early, gentleman.” Your friend teased. “He held the door open to the car and the restaurant. We went to that place on the corner near the diner we always go to. It wasn’t too fancy, it was like he knew what I liked.” You continued to ramble, your friend becoming more and more excited. “Yeah, so, I think we might be doing it again.” You finished, your coffee almost done.

“Y/n. Oh my god. You have to text me after and let me know. I want to know if this works out. I really hope it does.” “I will text you immediately after, unless we end up watching a movie or something.” She winked at you when you said that.

yourusername posted to their story!

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, yourfriend, and 23,294 others

yourusername all because of spilled coffee ☕️ p.s. i got my refund

view all 1,836 comments

yourfriend I KNEW IT

yourfriend i’m a mastermind 🤷‍♀️

user1 is that daniel ricciardo

user2 so cute!

danielricciardo ❤️❤️

↳ yourusername love you 🤍

user3 is this the coffee girl?

↳ user4 i think so, it has to be right?

user5 WE FOUND HER Y’ALL

kayla.k i’ve never been more jealous but also happy i couldn’t go to that race

danielriccarido

liked by yourusername, landonorris, and 538,465 others

danielricciardo never been more glad to spill someone’s coffee

view all 20,719 comments

landonorris WHAT

user1 she’s an icon already, i can tell

yourusername you really outed me in the last one 😧😔

↳ danielricciardo that’s my job!

maxverstappen1 why didn’t i about know this??

↳ danielricciardo i’m sorry babe 😭😭

user2 y/n is really just a third wheel

↳ yourusername i love my boyfriend and his boyfriend

↳ user3 ICON

georgerussell63 next you’re going to announce that you’re secretly american and from texas

↳ yourusername 🤫🤫🤫

↳ user4 you’re joking.

user5 i don’t know if i want to be him or her

[gloomygumi]

quirks - satoru gojo x gn!reader

summary: part two︱you like to think you’re aware of all of satoru’s quirks, but shoko thinks you may have missed a few.

contents: fluff, newly realised feelings, highschool!gojo, he's honestly not even actually there for a lot of it, shoko and geto are tho, honestly a little bit of whipped gojo, probably ooc but definitely self indulgent

word count: 1.2k

a/n: how are we coping since 236 guys ????? wrote this feeling like i’d been widowed so i guess this counts as my coping mechanism 😭 hope you enjoy anyway, constructive criticism and any ideas or opinions you have are always welcome !!

in your past year of knowing satoru gojo, you’d made a note of his multiple quirks.

you noticed how when the group of second years went out to eat together at the weekends, he would whine about how good everyone else’s food looks until everyone at the table took pity (or annoyance, in suguru’s case) and spooned some of their meal onto his plate.

you noticed how when he was in class, listening to yaga drone on about the different types of curses, he would never let all of the legs of his chair rest on the ground. he was constantly swinging back and forth. it’s a miracle that he’s never fallen back, you think.

you even noticed how he somehow kept a momento from every single hangout and mission, each of them stored in a little wooden box he kept on his bedside table back in the dorms. in the past, you’d seen him slide seemingly worthless ticket stubs and receipts into his pockets, and when the curiosity finally got the better of you and you asked what he did with them, you only received a cheeky grin and a wink from your friend.

so, when shoko finally told you some of her own observations of his behaviours and habits during your lunch break one day, it’s safe to say it shocked you.

“i think it’s pretty obvious that he likes you.” she speaks casually, as if her words hadn’t caused you to choke on your own food. she passes you her bottle of water and pats your back. “you couldn’t tell?”

after gulping down half of her water, and spluttering a few times, you finally found your voice, letting out a strangled “he’s my friend - he does not like me like that!”

the look shoko gives you is one of ridicule, but before she can say anything else, you quickly continue.

“how’d you even come to that conclusion anyway, you’re not usually much of a gossip. that’s suguru’s job." you attempt to joke, but you feel the strained smile drop from your face as the boy you mentioned approaches the table and plops down beside your friend.

speak of the devil...

you see shoko's eyes light up, but before you can even attempt to cut her off again, she turns to suguru. "geto! back me up here, isn't it so obvious that gojo likes (y/n)?"

"mhm." he hums, barely even acknowledging the fact that his confirmation has sent you spiraling for the second time. "he's not exactly subtle about it."

"you guys are being ridiculous."

now it's suguru's turn to look at you like you've suddenly grown two heads. "you really didn't know?"

shoko lets out a laugh at his genuine confusion, and reaches into her bag to pull out a cigarette. you quickly hand her a lighter you keep on hand just for moments like this and she quietly thanks you before continuing. "have you never noticed how he's always touching you in some way?"

"that's just how he is!" you defend. "he's always hanging off of suguru too!"

the pair in front of you share a look, before geto continues. "what about how he never lets you walk closest to the road?"

you stop for a second, trying to pinpoint an occasion - just one - where he had only to come up empty handed. in fact, the more you think about it, the more sense it makes. you replay your moments walking back to the dorms after class with satoru, with his arm always casually wrapped around your shoulder. you remember how he always looked comfortable and at peace. you even remember how he would gently bump you closer into the sidewalk if you were walking with someone else, sticking his tongue out at you and ruffling your hair if you voiced a complaint at his behaviour.

your mouth dries up as you try to come up with another excuse to brush off your friends' observations, but you start to question yourself.

maybe they're right...?

you shake you head, as if trying to clear your head of these thought. "he does that for everyone, you guys are just reading too much into it."

between drags of her cigarette, shoko chuckles. "he's never done it for me." geto leans forward from his seat across from you and gently flicks in between your eyebrows. your hand immediately clamps down on the spot, and you groan at him. "what was that for!?"

he ignores your dramatics. "why are you so sure that we're lying?"

his genuine question makes you stop to think. it wasn't that you didn't like gojo, in fact, you hadn't dedicated much time to thinking about him in that way at all. your friends being so insistent on the fact that he liked you made you slowly start to realise that maybe you did share some affections for the ill mannered boy.

you continue to mull over as many interactions and memories that you have shared with satoru, slowly connecting the dots in your head. he always was more gentle with you, never polite but always kind. he regularly brought you souvenirs back from missions that you weren't assigned to and he always insisted on sitting next to you on the train home, offering you the window seat every single time.

almost as if they can hear your inner monologue being to spiral, shoko pipes up once more. "he gave you a different ring tone so he'd know every time you call."

you feel your heart stop for a second, unsure as to why this in particular made you finally believe their words, but before you even have the opportunity to dismiss them again (now in an attempt to convince yourself more than them) you feel the seat beside you sink with additional weight and a familiar arm flung around your shoulder. you barely even register the smug smile shoko is flashing you from across the table as you focus on attempting to cool your face.

"i can't believe you guys started eating without me!" satoru whines, leaning even more heavily into your side. he makes quick work of plucking a large chunk of meat out of your bento, sending you a sly grin as you look up at him in dismay. "what were you guys talkin' about?"

suguru meets your eyes, raising his eyebrows as he meets your glare, urging him to shut his mouth. "oh nothing." he hums, before completely changing the subject.

the conversation from moments prior is still fresh in your mind, and you're now very aware of the soft glances gojo keeps sending your way. you suddenly feel a lot more awkward in his presence, and you barely notice how you're fidgeting with your hands under the table and not participating in the conversation anymore.

that is until you feel warm hands grip your own, effectively halting their movement. "you okay?" you can barely hear satoru over the blood pumping in your ears, and you're unaware of the laughs shoko and geto are trying desperately to hold back whilst watching the scene as you try to speak.

you start to wish your friends had kept their observations to themselves.

[aphrogeneias]

...right? — one-shot

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader (modern!au)

summary: you're not sure of where you stand with eddie munson, but you're forced to confront your feelings after almost losing him.

word count: 3k

warnings: fluff and angst with a happy ending. jealous!reader. feelings of self-doubt. eddie munson is a sweetheart.

author's note: this one has been a long time in the making, and it may be a little melodramatic, but i'm doing a lot of self-projecting here, so be nice. thank you to @intrepidacious for reading it for me and giving me your approval <3 i'm sorry to all the girls named emma reading this, but i had to give that character a name.

We're performing tonight, if you want to stop by.

You'd been staring at this message for a couple of minutes now, unsure of what to do. You seemed to be in this dilemma a lot, as of late — to answer or not to answer, to show or not to show.

Too scared to show how you felt, but too scared to lose him at the same time.

Zoned out, you caught Robin’s hand flying in your direction from your peripheral. “Stop looking at your phone!”

She snatched it from your hand, still open in your conversation with Eddie. Robin whistled when she took a look at your screen, “Oh, I see. How are things with Mr. Headbanger?”

“You're talking to Eddie?” Chrissy chimed in from her side of the bed, lifting herself on one elbow to see you better with Robin between you.

The three of you had been like this all night, spread out on Chrissy’s queen bed, a sequence of old romantic comedies playing on her TV. There was an empty pizza box on her fuzzy carpet, and a half finished bottle of wine next to it, the second of the night.

You groan, trying to get your phone back to no avail. “Things have been… well, I think. Too well. I guess I've just been waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Then, it was their time to groan.

Your friends like calling you jaded, but you consider yourself a realist.

It's been a topic of conversation between you for years. Ever since your last relationship ended, after you'd been left for another woman, when you swore off love for good — at first, they thought you were just grieving, it would take time to heal, of course, but you never really did.

You don't think you've ever been anything other than an open wound, in that sense, even before your ex. The high walls that were meant to protect you eventually became a prison you couldn't get out of. A princess and a dragon, all in one.

That is until Eddie Munson came into your life.

No one's ever made you want to drop those walls as much as he does. You'd met him through Chrissy, who’d been his friend since high school, and at first you thought he wasn't really flirting with you. He seemed to always be flirting with everyone, always getting a little too close. Until he asked you out, and you were still not convinced.

It could be a friend date. He could be after one of other friends. Maybe he was just passing time until he found someone better.

That was a few months ago, and Eddie hasn't gone anywhere.

He had a few shirts on your place, merch from various bands which you were growing fond of listening to them in his car. Shirts you would wear to bed when he wasn't spending the night, curling into bed with his smell on you. He'd made friends with your cat, and fixed your coffee in the morning the way you liked it, and left strands of hair loose in your shower.

A brave knight, that Eddie is.

Despite your closeness, and the honesty you see in his eyes whenever you're near him, neither one of you has put a name on what you have. It keeps you up at night, thoughts about calling him your boyfriend and have him laughing at your face. How could you be so stupid?

The thought of it brings tears to your eyes.

“What if that's it, though?” Chrissy interjects, with a gentle voice. Her small hand reached for yours, and gives it a reassuring squeeze. “What if there's no other intentions, no other shoe to drop? You have no reason not to trust him.”

“You say that because he's your friend.”

“Chris is right, babe.” Robin says, sitting straighter on the bed. “He’s never given you any reason to think like that. You need to let yourself go, just this once.”

You sigh, and mumble something along the lines of “Easier said than done,” as you sit up and pull your knees to rest your chin on them.

“You should go, by the way.”

Robin reaches to you with your phone in hand, handling it back to you. Her blue eyes are kind, understanding. Chrissy smiles from her place between you.

“Our local rockstar is waiting for you.”

You respond Eddie with a short omw <3 before your friends are pushing you out of your stupor, and into the street.

They’ve already finished their set by the time you arrive at The Hideout.

You're dressed entirely inappropriate for a dive bar full of metalheads and middle-aged bikers, but you don't let yourself think too much about it because no one really notices you coming in, except for the bouncer who compliments you on your old college sweatshirt.

The night is well beyond starting. The bar is full, and it takes you a while to find Eddie, but when you do, he finds you immediately.

He's at the foot of the stage, talking to his friends. The rest of the band is around too, and you wave at them as Eddie makes his way towards you. The smile that pulls on your lips is uncontrollable when he, with an excited smile of his own, takes you in his arms, wrapping himself around you. “Hi! You just missed the show!”

“I'm sorry! I was at Chrissy’s.”

You take a second to look at him closely. His wild hair is a little damp, and his Accept shirt has the sleeves cut off, which shows more of his tattoos. There's a studded belt on his hips, and you don't think too much before pulling him closer by it.

Eddie kisses you on the forehead, and his lips linger a little bit before pulling away. “Did you tell her I said hi?”

“Forgot to. But next time I'll make sure to send your regards.”

When he's close like this, you almost forget your doubts. When his arm is around your shoulders and he's pulling you close, the smell of his cologne and the last cigarette he smoked before going on stage cling to you, and you cling to it in turn.

“Good, and make sure to arrive on time next time too because we played your favorite and you weren't here.” He pouts dramatically, putting one hand to his chest.

The gasp you let out matches it. “Metal Health? Eddie, no!”

“Eddie, yes!” He shakes you a little, turning you in the direction of the tables. “We played Quiet Riot, and you weren't here to see it. Have to say I'm a little disappointed, sweetheart.”

Walking along with him, you stop when you reach a vacant booth on the corner. Turning to face him fully, you leave a soft kiss on his stubbled chin. “I guess you'll just have to keep playing it, then.”

“Does that mean you'll come to every show?”

There's no space between the two of you, standing chest to chest with each other. The rest of the bar disappears. “I might, if you'll have me.”

“Baby, I'll…”

The bubble you find yourselves in shatters and breaks when Eddie stutters, and turns, because there is someone poking him on the back, disturbing your moment. It's a woman, asking to speak to him.

You don't really register what she's saying. All you know is that you've seen her around before, and you know she's friends with the guys. Eddie apologizes to you as he's being dragged away for a private conversation. “I'll be right back! Don't go far.”

Nodding, you remain frozen in place.

They don't go far, but you can't really tell what they're talking about, but her hand on his forearm, slowly rising to his bicep, tells you everything you need to know.

You don't realize it but you're shaking a little bit, cold sweat prickling through your suddenly frigid skin. There's a ringing in your ears, and a lump growing in your throat, but you can't stop yourself from looking.

He looks beautiful like this. The light from the now empty stage hits his figure from the back, making him look every bit like the rock god he's always aspired to be. The frizz on his hair creates a halo around his head, and you think you might faint.

To his credit, he doesn't get any closer to the girl. Doesn't flirt back. His smile is polite, and he maintains a sensible distance, but that's not enough to ease your mind.

He's only keeping a distance because you're here. Your mind says, always the traitor. You're holding him back. He could be making out with a different girl every night. Maybe he is. Maybe he is and you're none the wiser. Better walk away now. Go, before your heart breaks.

It's already breaking, and you're the culprit.

You almost don't notice Eddie return to you, as your vision’s gone blurry.

“Sorry, Emma wanted to invite me to an after party. Told her I was busy.” There it was, his easy smile again. From a first look, you wouldn't think Eddie Munson smiles so easily, but it's always there, pulling on his full lips and showing off his dimples.

You would smile back, as usual, but it's like your face can't move.

“Just you?” You ask, “Not the rest of the boys?”

He laughs, but there's not much humor behind it. “Just me.”

“Aren’t you gonna say anything?” He is still grinning, raising one eyebrow at you, as if taunting you to speak up. Something rotten spreads through your insides, stirring them, rising like bile right through your opened mouth.

“Say what? It's not like we're dating, Eddie."

If regret could kill, you would be dead the moment you saw his face fall. Eddie's expressiveness is a double-edged sword — his happiness was contagious, but when he’s upset, there is nothing that could distract you from the way his bambi eyes plead to you.

You double down anyway, already feeling like a fool, but too stubborn to take back what you said.

"...right?"

“Is that what you think?” He asks, a pout on his pretty lips. “Is that what you want?”

“I… I don't know.” Your mouth is moving, but it's like you don't have control over what you're saying anymore. Like you can't even hear yourself, too taken by the dread that has taken over your body. “I think… What do you think?”

You throw the question back at him because you can't be the first one to say it. Because if he backs out, if you say what you really want — and it's him, he's all you've ever wanted, and the realization hits you like a punch to the gut — and he says it's never been quite like that, that he doesn't want you the same way, that he's just been passing the time, you would break.

Eddie looks away from you, then. His fingers pinch the bridge of his nose, “You're not sure what you want, is that what you're telling me?”

“No! No, it's not like that.” You almost choke on your own spit, “I'm just…”

Scared. Of opening your heart, of rejection, of him leaving when he learns how much you want him, need him.

“If you're not sure of what you want, I think you should take some time to think about it.”

“But, Eddie, I…”

“Think about it, and call me when you know.”

One of his hands goes to your shoulder, squeezing it, and briefly running thumb over the fabric of your sweatshirt. He's turning around before you can stay anything, the lump in your throat too big to allow you to speak.

The room feels like it's turning upside down as you turn the other way, towards the door. It turns and turns on its axis, and you almost lose your balance as you're making your way out. You wave halfheartedly at the bouncer, who waves back at you in the middle of his conversation with a green haired girl.

Walking home, you have time to think of what you'd just done.

As the tears roll freely through your face, and you wipe them with the end of your sleeves, you think of Eddie’s sullen face, once full of life, now transpiring his disappointment in you. You'd let him down, and it was all your fault.

In an attempt to protect yourself, you pushed him away.

You imagine him back at the bar, with the boys. With Emma, ready to console him after what you just did to him. The thought of it just makes you cry harder, trying to control your breathing as you get closer to your apartment.

You did what you always do. Leave first, turn your back, clam up back into your shell. You just never thought you'd do that to him.

It doesn't take long until you spiral.

You did all you could after you got home. Tried to breathe, but it only made you cry harder. Curled up on the couch with your cat, a brown tabby that curled herself right back into you, and cried until there were no tears left. Ignored your friends’ messages on your phone, pretending everything was all right.

Tried to drink, but felt too sad to even open your fridge. Ran into one of Eddie’s hoodies hanging from the back of a chair in your room, and felt more tears coming, but no strength to cry.

Everything in your room reminded you of him — your unmade bed where he'd be lying on if you didn't screw up, the fantasy book he'd let you borrow on your bedside table, a polaroid of the two of you with your arms around each other serving as a bookmark.

You pick your phone, and it rings and rings. He doesn't answer. In a moment of panic, you leave a message instead, pacing through your room on your bare feet, still wearing the clothes you went out in. The cat on your bed follows your movements with her eyes.

“Hi, Eddie. I… You might not even want to hear from me right now, and I get that. Really, I do, but… You just need to know I know I fucked up. I didn't mean to do you like that, I didn't mean to say those things to you.”

Your voice trembles, just like the hand that's holding your phone to your mouth, but you keep going, “Of course we're dating, we've been dating for a while now. I was too scared to say anything because we never put a label on it and I thought you didn't want anything with me, I guess I just didn't want to be the first one to say it in case you decided this wasn't… that I wasn't… what you wanted.”

There's a few seconds pause as you take a deep breath, and release it in an anguished sigh. “What I'm trying to say is… that I like you. A lot. Have since the beginning. And I understand if you didn't want anything to do with me anymore because of what I just did, but… if you still want to talk, I'm… I'm still here, okay? I'm still here.”

When you're finished, you throw your phone back on your bed, and wait.

You're still pacing around the house, a mug full of tea in hand, when you hear your phone vibrating on your bed. You almost don't pick it up, but you do anyway.

Two notifications from Eddie.

Can I come over?

Are you still up?

Hands shaking, you answer with a simple Yeah. Key’s on the carpet.

The clock on your screen says it's 2:22 AM.

You hear your door opening not too long after that, the spare key turning on the lock, as you're sitting on the couch, writing like a kid that's to be scolded when their parents come home. The mug of tea is half empty at your feet, and now cold, just as your nervous hands as Eddie comes through the door.

Wearing a Metallica sweatshirt, an older one that you've borrowed before, one you know how soft it feels on the skin, he comes in and silently closes the door behind him, leaving the key on a small ceramic plate by it.

You cave in before he can say anything. “I'm sorry.”

Your chin is wobbling again, but you swallow it down, not wanting to make a scene. Eddie comes closer, and sits next to you, careful not to kick the mug that you left carelessly on the floor.

“No, I'm sorry. I should have said something, I should have told you what you meant to me sooner. You know… I've been calling you my girlfriend to everyone but to the person who matters the most.”

“Everyone?” You repeat, “Everyone who?”

“The guys. At work. Wayne…”

“You told your uncle I'm your girlfriend?” The word feels foreign in your tongue, but not unpleasant. Eddie looks sheepish, but the corner of his mouth twitches and lifts just a bit, one of those dimples you love making an appearance in your dimly lit living room.

“Yeah. Like I said, everyone but the one who matters the most.”

There it is. That earnestness, pouring through him, warming you up from the inside out.

“And I guess… Am I the person you mean?”

“Who else would it be?” He's tilting his head now, kind eyes aimed at you. You huff a weak laugh, them, relief hitting you in waves. Not thinking too much, you throw yourself at him, hugging him by the shoulders, and folding your legs under your thighs to be closer to him.

“I'm still sorry, though. Sorry that I made you think I had doubts, or that I…”

Eddie doesn't let you finish, shushing you with a hand on the back of your head, and another wrapping around your waist, keeping you in place. “It's okay, sweetheart. I'm sorry too.”

“Since we're both sorry, does anyone have to be sorry at all?” You mumble into his shoulder, taking in his smell through his clothes. It soothes you more than anything can, along with his voice vibrating through his chest, and the warmth of his body clinging to yours.

“I think we can discuss the details in the morning.”

He seals it with a kiss to your temple. You and your boyfriend sleep on that same couch, and in the morning, there is nothing left to say.

[itsa-me-lily]

God I love this au, it's feeding me so good today. The last one with the part about only one bedroom has me thinking about a sick reader, the gross kind of sick where you're sweaty and wheezy and snotty, and the fact that if it were anyone else Simon would be quarantining them. But because it's his spouse, he wakes up to you nasally wheezing and mouth breathing while sprawled across him, and all he can think about is when you're due for your next round of medicine and if he needs to buy more tissues.

Sometimes love comes coated in mucus, and is reciprocated with an artificial cherry taste. Also do the guinea pigs have names and what do they look like?

I'm dying. This is the first ever ask I've ever gotten (that I recall) and I'm going to pass away. Also "sometimes love comes coated in mucus, and is reciprocated with an artificial cherry taste" that is such a good line, I'm apologizing in advance if I steal it.

Also warning for content of being sick, this is based off my last bout of plague.

Also Also Here's the Masterlist

Bedsharing in general does not happen at first. (Now I want to percolate an idea about sharing the bed for the first time). You're way to use to having your own bed that sharing with someone means you're not sleeping easily and I think Simon would rather sleep with the guinea pigs in their cage than have another human being that close to him when he sleeps. (This was also not something he initially thought about when being told a spouse was to be picked)

So what's the solution? Obviously bunk beds! Kind of, sorta...okay not really but the look on Simon's face when you had suggested getting bunk beds had been entertaining. Who knew so much indignation could come through a medical mask. Really his eyebrows did so much talking.

With the dream of bunkbeds dashed, the next best solution was either two twin beds crammed into the bedroom with a bedside's worth of space between them, or a pull out couch. You managed to find a couch same day that didn't terribly clash with the artwork you have yet to hang up.

You two actually manage to come up with a schedule for who slept where. Obviously you'd get the bed when Simon was deployed, made no sense for you not to. And when he was home the bed was all his unless he was having a night that he knew he wasn't going to trust a deadbolt to keep monsters at bay. Then he made himself comfortable, TV playing low until he managed a few hours in the early morning before you try to leave a silently as you can for work.

(Funny thing, even if you aren't sharing a bed traditionally, you both most certainly have your own sides, along with bed stands that told two different stories)

The first time you get sick is when Simon is technically deployed. Well actually, the day he returns is the day you spike a 101.8 fever and work forces you to go home so you don't become a walking petri dish and expose the college kids that come into your office.

Once you're home you appease the little beasts demanding some sort of vegetal boon, change into the rattiest clothes you have, and then huddle under a staggering amount of blankets that have made their home on your bed. (Simon may have side eyed them when you first set them out, but you've seen the mountain he creates under them, you knew the magic of weighted blankets)

Sleep isn't peaceful, you hadn't broken out the Nyquil quite yet, but you do manage to drift off for a few hours. And then the coughing starts. It's the kind that's a bitch to deal with, dry and pushing your ribs to the limit with how often they can expand and contract. By the time Simon comes home you've steamed yourself twice, taken only a smidge over the recommended amount of cough suppressant, and slathered yourself with Vic's Vaporub. All in all, you were properly miserable.

You're in the kitchen, staring into the abyss of your over-steeping tea as if it will magically make you feel better if you only sell your soul to it, really a tempting offer, when the wheeks of the pigs announce that another person they know has arrived.

If Simon wasn't clued in that something was off at seeing you home before the end of your work day, the pungent smell of menthol would have been a dead give away. You're still communing with your tea when he knocks against the wall, pulling you out of the deal for your soul to meet him with bleary eyes and a flushed face.

You croak out a greeting that makes Simon wince in sympathy, though that's about all he really does. Simon doesn't really do pleasantries and doting probably wouldn't be the first word people use to describe him, so with your brain function reduced by an overflow of mucus and fever, the kitchen was rather silent.

Until you started coughing, face buried into the crook of your elbow to try to keep your contagion to a minimum and back bowing to nearly double you over. That drives Simon to action, coming to try to keep you up incase you collapse, grabbing your free arm.

When you feel him touch you, you try to pull away, shaking your head and finally finishing your bout, gasping a little as you try to daunting task of breathing and speaking to dissuade him from getting close lest he catches what you have. He clearly wasn't persuaded, hands clenching and unclenching like he simply wanted to pick you up and put you...somewhere.

How exactly Simon Riley would take care of you, he didn't know but he'd be damned sure to at least try. He'd been left to fend for himself while sick before and he didn't like the idea of you going through that. When it was clear that he wasn't going to just leave you to your suffering you relented enough to try to reach a compromise; if he'd be alright watching the pigs while you were sick that would be more useful than a nursemaid while you camped out on the couch.

That...that was something Simon could do. He'd watched how you took care of the boys, surely this was something he could do. And then his brain caught up to the rest of what you had said. There was no way he was going to let you sleep on some pull out couch, as nice as it was. Being Sick meant sleeping in a proper bed, on a mattress that didn't spend it's days folded up.

You tried to insist it was alright but he wouldn't listen to a word of it. Instead he practically herded you back to the bedroom, ignoring your murmurs of your abandoned hot beverage. He didn't lift you to plop you onto the bed itself but it was a near thing. He had to bribe you with the promise of a proper cup of tea for you to even lay your head on your pillow, eyes already heavy with the need for sleep. By the time he had actually made a cup you were out for the count, nasally mucus filled snores letting him know you hadn't perished in the time it took him.

The next few days were filled with mucus, the attempted escape of your lungs via coughing fits, and more Vics than the human body should be exposed to. And the entire time you insisted that you could fend for yourself. Simon didn't push to play nurse, but your tissues never ran out, a dose of medication was always ready on your bedside, and a warm cup of tea stood waiting for you after each nap, like a solider committed to his guard.

Edit;

I'm going to make a separate post for the guinea pigs, because honestly I'm torn on if they're based on my guinea pigs I used to have, or guinea pigs I'd want to have in the future

[starleska]

If you're still taking writing requests, could you do possessive Wally headcanons?

*cracks knuckles* oh anon, i most certainly can 😈 yandere!Wally fans (me too 😳), this one's for you! (this is less headcanons and more a oneshot... kinda wanna write the whole thing 🙈)

content warnings for possessive behaviour, manipulation, threats, arson, entrapment and kidnapping!

Possessive/Yandere!Wally Darling x Reader headcanons

👁 it all started so well. Wally was a Darling both in name and behaviour, and you fell hard and fast. such an attentive sweetheart, from the moment you moved into the neighbourhood it was as if he were always at your side. anywhere else, you may have been unnerved, but Wally's simple warmth and easy smile dispelled all of your doubts. while you tried to spread your time equally between your kind new neighbours, you somehow always found yourself in Wally's presence, talking to him for hours.

👁 in time, you found yourself becoming bolder. you start returning Wally's curious glances, and soon allow your eyes to linger a touch longer than they should. curiously (and with a little bit of a thrill), you notice that Wally seems incapable of breaking eye contact - no matter how long you stare, he'll always stare right back, unperturbed.

👁 one day, you find yourself closer to Wally than usual. you're half-pressed against one another on your sofa, Wally's cheek nestled in the crook of your shoulder. he's drawing something in his sketchbook: an indistinct, wobbly shape that you can't make heads or tails of. while Wally's right hand scribbles furiously with his pencil, the fingers of his unoccupied left hand spill at your side, reflexively clenching every now and again with the automatic motions of his drawing.

👁 the closeness imbues you with a newfound confidence. you take a breath, steady yourself...and reach across, brushing your fingers lightly across Wally's own. Wally's eyes snap towards you. for a moment, his pupils blow so wide you think they might just swallow you.

👁 the next day, your house catches fire. such an incident is unheard of in this neighbourhood, and all your neighbours are horrified for you. however, Wally is strangely calm. "I'm sorry you lost so much," he says, still smiling. "Would you like to live with me?"

👁 you're shaken - but accept Wally's offer. the shock of the fire takes a few days to wear off, but nothing could be more unsettling than living in close quarters with Wally Darling. existing within the living, breathing (creaking? squeaking) walls of his Home has an atypical effect on the puppet. Wally's voice is lower, and he moves with more purpose, as if he and Home are one and the same: symbiotic entities which exist in tandem with one another.

👁 to add to your creeping sense of dread, Wally flips the script on your personal space. now he is the one letting his fingers slip easily around your waist, and fixing you with uncomfortable, impossible-to-ignore stares. you try to laugh off his behaviour, questioning him openly if he enjoys having you as a guest so much. for once, Wally doesn't smile when he replies, "I love you living with me."

👁 it isn't until a week has passed that you learn all the doors are locked, and Wally never gave you a key. you try wrestling with the door handle, but it doesn't budge. then you try the windows, but they're sealed shut. 'I'm not trapped!' you think to yourself. 'Wally is just being a good neighbour - he wants to keep me safe.' but that still doesn't stop you from panicking, scouring the house for the heaviest thing you can find and trying to smash the window. the glass does not break. Home suddenly groans with the sound of a thousand old floorboards and overloaded pipes - a dreadful, ear-rending noise - causing the glass in the window to triple in height and thickness right before your eyes.

👁 terrified, you scramble backwards to run out of the kitchen - only to run smack into Wally. you collapse to the floor and gaze up at Wally, standing in the doorway with his hands tucked behind his back, that cat's smile of his holds some private amusement.

👁 "did you try to leave Home?" Wally asks. "Silly, silly." he takes a step towards you, and then another - slow and loping steps, his cute puppet form now moving in a way equal parts unnatural and sinister. he crouches next to you, those eyes now whirlpools of void which obscure all but the slight white rim of his scleras. "Try again," Wally whispers. "I'd like that very much."

[mianexil]

◇ Things that make his heart melt ◇

◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇

⭕️ Warning: Spoilers ⭕️

💫 [ It wasn't in my plans before, but I really want to comfort these boys ]

💫 [ Cuties, I see your requests and don't forget about them. I'm going through a little stressful period right now, so it may take a little longer than I wanted, but I'm already working on it ]

◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇

ㅡ Suo, Sakura, Umemiya

Suo

Sincere care for him

Everyone knows that Suo is strong in every sense. He is also smart, restrained, independent and confident.

It is not uncommon for people to admit such thoughts in his direction as 《 He is strong/smart/hardy, he will cope 》, waving away unnecessary worries.

But not you. You've never neglected it and it came from the heart. You knew that Suo was far from weak and admitted it, but it never affected the level of your concern for him. Yes, he is, but this does not mean that you can take less care of him, referring to the fact that he can do it himself.

Strong people can take care of the difficulties outside and also take care of themselves. But if they can, it doesn't mean that it's easy for them.

You always paid attention to his comfort in one situation or another, did some small and inconspicuous things that actually made a big difference.

Starting from the way you imperceptibly put a cooling compress in his furin jacket pocket before patrolling on a hot day or a a small pocket warmer in winter, and ending with silent hugs at the right moment to maintain peace in his soul.

It wasn't just a superficial concern, it was about his feelings.

At first, he somehow automatically shielded himself from it, it was his defense mechanism. He didn't want to admit that he needed it in any way, he didn't want you to think that he had at least some weaknesses to know the truth.

However, time and your perseverance have done their job. Over time, Suo began to accept your truly deep concern, letting it into his heart and passing through it.

And believe me, it made his heart blossom.

Sakura

Listening and hearing

Sakura, as a person who has spent his whole life alone, is not used to conducting dialogues and generally having any long-term relationships with people.

That's why, when he first caught himself telling you about some hobby of his with a desire, and at that time you were really listening attentively to him, he felt this terribly strong and strange feeling in his chest.

Of course, at the same moment he fell into a stupor, and then he got angry because he was confused. You still don't understand why he abruptly stopped talking, flushed red in annoyance, and then abruptly said goodbye and ran away.

Poor boy, for him, these feelings seem especially strong. Because it was the first time for him.

You knew it was very difficult for Sakura to open up to people. That's why, when he started sharing his thoughts with you or telling you something, you immediately put all the worries in your head aside and focused on Sakura.

You wanted him to feel heard so that he would understand that you want to hear and listen to him

And it was at such moments that the young man's heart seemed to melt like ice under the warm rays of the spring sun.

God, you really make this boy happy.

Umemiya

Special intimate moments between you

When you are alone, he's lying on your lap, and you're stroking his head.

It is this moment that permeates Hajime's heart and soul with sparkling threads that touch his most sensitive and vulnerable points.

At this moment, he feels as if he is transported back to childhood, when he was still a carefree, happy, beloved little boy, surrounded by family love and a sense of childish lightness.

Once he had lost this happiness, these incredible sensations, but now he had found them again. In a different form, but the same happiness.

He is lying on your lap, and your fingers are tangled in his white hair while you stroke him and at this moment Umemiya feels this warmth again, he is sincerely loved again, he is again childishly carefree and happy, he is home again.

◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇

[melon-fodder]

HONEY, DON'T FEED ME • T. Hiragi

Summary: The last thing Hiragi wants to do when on the cusp of a rut is watch over his boss' bratty daughter (who he happens to find very attractive). Too bad for him.

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: guard dog!Hiragi, human!reader, fem-bodied reader, reader wears a dress and lip gloss, some a/b/o traits (ruts, pheromones, knotting), p in v, rough sex, reader is a bit of a brat, rich girl!reader, attempted assault, crying, mentions of breeding, biting, lil bit of blood, fingering, squirting, p in v, knotting, slight cumflation, Hiragi just goes kinda feral in this

Note: title is from It Will Come Back by Hozier. A big thank you to @lady-lauren for reading this and demanding more despite barely knowing Hiragi. I love you, bb. This is for @goxjo’s into the omegaverse collab. Make sure to check out the whole masterlist!

Hiragi rubs his temples, reminding himself to take even breaths. His irritation grows with each passing second, a growl taking form in his throat until he finally barks out, “hurry up or we’ll be late!” 

He can hear movement from the other room, heeled footsteps, the opening and closing of containers. Just as he’s about to march into your bedroom and drag you from your little vanity, you decide to emerge. 

“Calm down, I’m ready, geez.”

You bat your eyes at Hiragi as you pass him, an amused smile playing at your shiny lips, and Hiragi has to bite his tongue to keep from calling you a fucking brat. 

He has to fight that impulse every day, actually. Because you are a brat. A spoiled, privileged, doe-eyed little—

“What are you just standing there for?” you question with a little too much sass. “You’re the one worried we’re gonna be late. Come on.”

Hiragi is just standing there because he’s trying to gather himself. You may be one of his biggest stressors in life, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t affected by you in other ways, especially on days like these when he could fall into a rut at any given moment. It’s a little past due, if he’s being honest—the general weight on his shoulders has done a good job of keeping it at bay—but Hiragi has noticed that his patience has been thinner than usual the last few days. His senses are heightened, able to pick up on the most subtle scents as his dark ears twitch at every little sound. 

Not to mention the persistent dull ache in his balls that he just cannot get rid of. 

After this function tonight, once you're back home safe, he’s gonna have to find someone to take this out on, someone he can trust enough to ride it out with him. 

Now isn’t the time to think about it, though. It’s unwise to let his mind wander to sex when you’re so close to him, looking much sweeter than you actually are in your little dress and strappy wedges, perfume and pheromones wafting off of your neck and making Hiragi’s mouth water. 

Fuck. 

All he’s gotta do is deliver you to your father’s dinner, stand watch for a couple hours, and bring you back home. Nothing more, nothing less. He only has to be around you for that completely reasonable amount of time. 

Still, Hiragi feels dread settle in the pit of his stomach as he walks with you outside. He goes for one of his boss’ nice cars, keys in hand, but you catch him by his jacket sleeve and tug him in the opposite direction. 

“Let’s take your motorcycle!”

“No,” he shuts you down without hesitation. Your father has never explicitly told Hiragi that you aren’t allowed on his bike, but he has told him that Hiragi is to keep you out of harm’s way. It’s sort of his entire job. Having you up against him with a machine rumbling between his legs seems like a very unsafe thing to do. 

You pout up at him, cross your arms and whine, “you never let me ride with you!”

“Yeah, ‘cause your dad would fuckin’ skin me.”

“He doesn’t have to know. We’ll leave before he leaves. He won’t even see it in the driveway.”

He’d probably hear it, though. 

It isn't actually his employment that Hiragi is worried about. That’s not why he wants to keep you off his bike. The real issue would be having you touching him for the duration of the ride—your arms locked around his torso, your tits heavy and warm against his leather-clad back. There’s no way he’d be able to make the drive without getting hard on the way. 

“Please, Ragi?” you ask again, blinking up at him like a neglected puppy as you push your bottom lip out. 

Unfortunately, it works, your expression triggering that protective nature inside of him. As maddening as it is, there is a part of Hiragi that’s loyal to you—your father as well, but especially you. 

Why else would he put up with you? 

“Fine,” he grits out, pulling his other set of keys out. 

You grin at him all giddy as two words fall from your glossy lips—a phrase he both loves and hates because of what it does to him. 

“Good boy.”

His temper flares at the same time that his cock twitches, and he grumbles incoherently the whole time he adjusts your helmet. 

“Little brat.”

“You love me,” you retort, voice muffled by the visor Hiragi purposely pulls down over your aggravating, beautiful face. 

As expected, the drive is tortuous. Your hands splay out on his chest, fingers clutching his shirt at every turn. He can feel the spread of your thighs behind him, and if he could shut his eyes to get rid of the mental image he would, but he can’t because he’s driving. 

You’re hot pressed against him, or maybe it’s his blood boiling him from the inside out. All he knows is that if you were to move your hands lower on his abdomen, he’d combust. If you were to just slowly palm him through his pants…

Hiragi growls in frustration, accelerating a little too fast and making you squeeze him tighter. Fuck the speed limit; the faster he can get you to your destination, the faster he can get away from you. 

The neighborhood that your father’s associate lives in is very nice—a neighborhood that Hiragi would have no business in were it not for you. He's finally able to take a full breath when he pulls to a stop and cuts the engine, but his heart stutters again when you spring off the bike. 

Hiragi would be lying if he said he didn’t immediately miss the weight against his back, but it’s best that you don’t touch him. Still, now he has to wrestle with the sight of you as you pull your helmet off and smooth your hair back into place. 

Your thighs are on full display, and your tits are literally wrapped in a bow, cleavage teasing him from behind the ribbon of your dress. You’re like a little doll. So pretty. Probably fun to play with despite your pull string that makes you say all kinds of annoying things like, “what the hell are you looking at?”

“Hah?”

“Stop staring,” you laugh as you hand him your helmet. “You’re gonna get dog drool all over your bike.”

“I’m not starin’, and I’m definitely not droolin’!”

Your glossy lips twist into a knowing smirk, and you step closer to him. Way too close. He could pull you onto his knee if he really wanted to which… he does not. 

“You don’t have to lie, I know I look nice tonight,” you tell him. 

Oddly enough, it doesn’t sound cocky. There’s even a glimmer of sorrow in your eyes as you absentmindedly poke the spikes of Hiragi’s collar. It makes him shiver, makes him reach up and catch your hand because if you don’t quit it, he’s either gonna bite a finger off or cum in his pants. Not sure which. 

You squeeze his hand before letting it drop, mumbling, “Father told me to dress up. Look my best. So I put on my cutest bartering chip dress.” Stepping back, you do a little twirl for him and plaster on what he now knows is a fake smile. “So you like it, yeah?”

“I liked it more when I thought you put it on for yourself,” he admits gruffly, never able to control his mouth on nights like this. 

It makes sense now why you’re supposed to be here. Your father wants to make a show of his pretty daughter, a strategy Hiragi has seen a couple times before. It had irritated him then too, but what he’s feeling now is different from irritation. There’s a sickness swirling in the pit of his stomach at the idea of his boss offering you up like some kind of business deal that needs to be signed. 

“Well, hopefully this guy’s son thinks I put it on for him,” you say, and as you start to walk toward the large house you whisper to yourself, “hopefully he doesn’t make me take it off.”

It wasn’t meant for him to hear, but you should know by now that Hiragi will pick up most things. You’re always teasing him about how sensitive his ears are, so you really shouldn’t be surprised when he tells you, “I’ll tear the fucker limb from limb if he touches you, got it?”

You blink your wide eyes at him a couple times before dissolving into a fit of giggles. 

“Oh my god, Ragi, don’t be so dramatic!”

And, just like that, your spoiled brat mask is back in place. 

Walking to the entrance, Hiragi smells the other hybrid before he sees her. The front door swings open to reveal what he assumes to be the family dog, just another one of his kind doing what they all do best: protect territory. 

She’s tall—not as tall as he is, but she's got several inches on you. Black ears are tipped with white, moving like satellites to catch every sound of your approach. She eyes both of you up and down, but afterward her gaze rests on Hiragi. 

“You didn’t have to bring your guard dog, little miss,” she sneers, an ugly sound that she punctuates with a wink in his direction. 

“I go where she goes,” Hiragi grunts. Already, the other hybrid is putting out signals, putting out scents. Worse, she’s picking up his. She can smell his wariness, his possessiveness, and by the gleam in her eyes, his impending rut. 

“You sure it’s a good idea for you to be in there?” the hybrid asks, holding up a hand of manicured claws to keep him from passing over the threshold behind you. It puts the stranger in a very precarious position.

“You sure it’s a good idea for you to get between me an’ her?” he warns, the hair on the back of his neck rising as she crosses her arms and smirks. It straightens her back, pushing her tits up, and Hiragi picks up on a new aroma, a new interest. The female hybrid seems aroused by his dedication, taking it as a challenge she intends to win. 

Maybe she will. She’s not unattractive. After this dinner Hiragi could just drop you off and come right back, ride out his rut with this stranger. She's obviously interested, so why not? 

“Hiragi,” your voice rings out, and when he glances back to you, he finds your hand outstretched, finger beckoning. “Come.”

That’s why not. 

He nearly shudders at the command, spares the other hybrid a threatening look—don’t try to stop me—then brushes past her to join you inside. 

If he were a smarter creature, he would spend the dinner posted outside flirting with the female while keeping an ear out for any danger 

But, he’s not, so instead he spends the dinner leaning against a wall, eyes flicking between you and the young man you’ve been seated next to. Apparently, he’s next to take over his father’s business, so it’s “imperative” that he’s here. Your presence isn’t so obvious—at least not to the hosts. You’re here to entertain and seduce, to wrap this boy around your finger so that he’ll convince his father to take the deal. 

It’s nauseating. Hiragi watches the way you grin playfully, cover your mouth to keep from giggling loudly or inappropriately. You’re delicate and sweet, docile yet tempting—a glimpse at a perfect little wife. 

Hiragi hates it. As much as you annoy him, he’d take your smart mouth and bad attitude over this any day. It may be another costume that you wear, but it’s more genuine than this little show. It’s definitely less filtered. 

A hand dips under the table and out of Hiragi’s eyesight. He sees your body tense, smile fading into something tight as a wave of dread rolls off of you and straight into Hiragi. The smell is pungent, mixing with fear and anger and causing his upper lip to curl. 

“I know you aren’t baring your teeth at my young master,” the female hybrid says beside him. He hadn’t even noticed her arrival, too distracted by your scent. 

“I’ll do more than bare my teeth if he doesn’t get his fuckin’ hand off her.”

“So touchy,” she purrs, moving close enough to brush against him, “they’ll be fine. There’s no need to worry.”

He takes a step away from her, overloaded with the onslaught of aromas—your panic, the kid’s desire, the hybrid’s deceit. She’s trying to distract him, to keep him from watching too closely. It’s not going to work. Hiragi only has eyes for you now. 

And then yours land on his. He sees a plea within them, somehow silent and screaming at the same time. Get me out of here, please. Your brow is pinched, your lip is trembling, and your chest is rising and falling too fast, each breath like thunder in Hiragi’s ears. 

“I-I’m sorry,” you apologize meekly, slowly standing from the table on shaky legs, “I’m afraid I don’t feel so well.”

You smooth your dress out quickly—so quickly that no one else seems to catch how rumpled it’s gotten, how high it had been pushed up, but Hiragi notices. 

Saliva pools in his mouth but not because of you or the sight of your thighs he so desperately wants wrapped around his head. No, it’s the kind of spit that drips from his teeth, that foams and spills and warns people: rabid dog, do not approach. 

Hiragi takes a step only to be stopped by the female hybrid. His eyes are still locked on his target and its pulsing jugular—its face twisted into a petulant frown, like a child who just got his toy taken away. 

“Don’t you dare,” the female hisses, placing a hand on his chest. Hiragi nearly shoves her away. The only reason he doesn’t is because of you passing him, gripping the leather of his jacket and tugging him along behind you. 

Nobody tries to stop the two of you from leaving. In fact, the two older men remain lost in their own conversation, completely oblivious to the massacre that nearly took place right in front of them. 

You don’t say anything until you’re standing next to Hiragi’s motorcycle under the dark, evening sky. 

“Fucking entitled asshole—thinks I’m on the table right next to the money. Who does that? Who just—”

There are tears shimmering in your eyes, rolling down your cheeks, and Hiragi doesn’t think before wiping them away with his thumb. He can smell the salt and disappointment and resentment, considers tasting it but now is not the time. He’s furious, ready to crack skulls and teeth and anything else. There’s so much blood pumping through his veins, hot and hungry for violence—for anything. 

“I should fucking kill him,” he says more to himself than to you. 

“Don’t bother. He didn’t get far. Barely made it into my panties before I—”

“I’m gonna fucking kill him!”

He turns back to the house, about to take off at a god damn sprint, but goes rigid when he feels your arms wrap around him from behind. 

“Don’t,” you mumble, “just take me home. Please?” Hiragi sucks in a breath, diaphragm spasming when your hands grip the fabric over his abs. “Just let me forget about it.”

This shouldn’t be arousing. You were just assaulted, for fuck’s sake. But Hiragi has been riled up for days now, and you’ve just gone and coiled yourself around him, so vulnerable. So needy. 

His heart is beating too fast, pumping blood to too many places at once. It pounds in his head, courses through his veins like magma, travels down until his cock starts twitching, and Hiragi just groans. 

“We gotta get you home.” It’s right there bubbling beneath his skin, that primal need he can’t suppress no matter how hard he tries. Hiragi peels your arms off of him and grabs your helmet, unable to look at you–your glistening eyes and pouty lips–as he pulls it over your head. The street lights blur on the drive home, each one passing quicker than the last. He should slow down. He should stop taking the curves so fast. But he can barely focus on what’s in front of him when you’re right there behind him. The domesticated part of him is slipping away, and he can’t do anything to stop it. A particularly sharp turn has you squealing behind him, morphing into a high pitched laugh that Hiragi can hear over the roar of the engine. You squeeze him tighter, the heat of your palms going straight to his cock. What he wouldn’t do for a little friction, to be able to rut into something. He’s losing his mind. If he isn’t careful, he’s gonna– “Get off,” he barks as soon as he pulls into the driveway. “What?” “Get off, and get inside,” he commands through his teeth. “Hiragi, what…” you sound a little breathless as you kick a leg over the bike to stand. If he had been watching, maybe he would have gotten a glimpse of your panties, the ones that bastard tried to push aside to get to… He can’t think about it right now. He can’t fall into another fit of rage, and definitely can’t think about anyone touching you. “You’re not gonna go back there, are you?” you ask once you take your helmet off. “I’m fine, I promise! The ride helped. It was actually really fun!” “It’s not that,” he tries, hiding behind the visor of his own helmet, “I just need to… Look, I’m having a bad night.” “Oh,” you tilt your head to the side, “can I help at all?” “No!” You jump at his voice, and he immediately feels bad. “Sorry. It’s not you. I just… need to cool down.” “Do you need some water or something?” God dammit, he needs to leave. He can’t just sit here with this bike rumbling between his legs. He can’t just sit here and stare at you. “It won’t help. I’m…” he pauses, trying to come up with the right words to make you understand that there’s nothing you can do. Nothing you could do without getting hurt. “It’s a hybrid thing.” You blink at him, don’t say a word, just nod and let your eyes wander down his body until they land right where he doesn’t want them. A multitude of swear words clog his mind because you were not supposed to get that. You were not supposed to catch on so quickly. You’re not supposed to be clever, god dammit, you’re supposed to be his boss’ ditzy, bratty daughter. “I see,” you smirk, and Hiragi is helpless as you step closer, slowly reaching for his chin to loosen his helmet straps. “Stop,” he warns, “don’t touch me right now.” The way you push out your bottom lip is so overdramatic, plush and inviting and in clear view once you slide the reinforced plastic over his head. “Why not?” you question, eyes wide with faux innocence. Even teasing, your voice sounds so much more enticing than that hybrid’s. “You don’t want me to?” You trace the skin of his neck just below his leather collar, and Hiragi stifles a groan. He’s burning up, sweat trickling down his spine already.

“I don’t wanna hurt you, and if you keep it up, I will.”

Your eyes light up. There may as well be fucking hearts dancing in them. Hooking a finger into ring of the collar, you tug.

“You don’t know a thing about me if you think that’s gonna scare me.”

Hiragi cuts the engine, steadies the bike, and gets off of it all in one fluid motion. He’s in your space before you can even calculate a threat, hands gripping your biceps as he backs you up toward the huge house behind you.

“Bratty little princess askin’ for shit she doesn’t know a thing about.”

“I know about it,” you challenge, letting him guide you to the front door where he types in the key code. “I know about ruts and… what you’ve got down there.”

He chuckles, kicking the door behind him and pulling you flush against him. You made your decision outside, and there’s no changing your mind now. Doesn’t matter if you get scared or get hurt; he’s not letting you go.

“Yeah? What’s that?” Hiragi spins you around to press his hips forward, grinding his clothed cock against your ass. “You feel it?”

A sweet little gasp parts your lips, and Hiragi quickly closes a hand around your throat to catch the next one that falls when he slides his other hand up the skirt of your dress.

“Not the same as a human cock, you know that?”

You nod in his grip, trying to shove a clumsy hand between your bodies to feel him.

“I know. Still want it.” Your words are strained from the fingers clasped around your neck, a muffled moan vibrating in his hold when he licks the shell of your ear. He could cum in his pants right now, and it wouldn’t matter. It wouldn’t be enough. Not enough relief and not enough of you.

“Want what, princess? Gotta hear you say it.”

Actually, he doesn’t. Whether or not you want it now is a moot point. He’s too far gone for any protests, so hopefully your body will be able to take what he’s about to give. 

A smile splits your face, head turning so that your lips are a hair’s width away from his. You’re quiet but confident when you whisper, “Your knot. I want your knot, Ragi. Want you to stretch me on it and–”

He loses it, hand around your neck tightening to hold you in place while he crushes his mouth against yours. The fingers at your thigh dig into supple flesh, nails tearing your skin just like his teeth tear at your lips. He tastes iron but doesn’t feel bad, just savors it on his tongue while he licks into you.

You’re squirming but not away from him–trying to get closer, grabbing the hand on your leg and moving it inward until he’s cupping your mound over your panties. You whine into his mouth, push your ass against his confined cock like a cat in heat.

Warmth radiates from your core, and Hiragi can feel your arousal seeping into the cotton beneath his fingers as he rubs you through the material.

“My room,” you breathe against his lips, only able to lean in that direction as Hiragi doesn’t let you take so much as a step. You have to break the kiss and use a different tone of voice–that voice, “Hiragi. My room,” before it clicks in his head that this is an order, and he has to obey.

He does, but first he tosses you over his shoulder, mouthing up and down your thigh while walking down the hall to your personal haven.

Your scent envelopes him like a thick fog. It blurs his vision and clogs his throat and makes him want to howl. Hiragi has to fuck you. He might die if he doesn’t.

Dropping you onto your bed, he doesn’t even wait for your body to stop bouncing before he descends on you, slipping out of his jacket, latching onto your neck, pushing your dress up over your panties so that he can tug them off of you. He moves his face to your chest, teeth catching the ribbon squeezing your tits. He tugs at it, ends up ripping it, and revels in the sight of you.

The more time he spends with you, the more the animal inside him gets triggered. Sucking on one perfect, pebbled nipple, all he can think about are these gorgeous tits engorged with milk, feeding hungry mouths, the mouths of pups. God, he’s gonna fuck you so full, watch you swell with his cum and then his spawn. Can’t be some rich boy’s wife if you’re too busy nursing, too busy taking Hiragi’s knot over and over and–

He sucks at the swell of your breast, smooth skin drenched in his spit, and bites. Too hard. Breaks the skin, tastes the blood, then bites down harder.

“Fuck, Ragi!” But your fingers tighten in his hair and your hips buck. The purest form of want pulses from the scent glands you don’t even know about, filling Hiragi’s head, getting him stoned, a single word on repeat in his mind: mate, mate, mate.

All he can do is keep sucking and groaning and whimpering into your flesh. He wants you so bad, wants to feel your cunt wrap around him and milk him. You want him too, right? Wanna take him and be with him and let him breed you?

“Please,” you beg, “please, need to feel you–touch my pussy. Please, Ragi, need it–”

He can’t deny you. You’re his master, and he is a slave to you.

Loud squelches echo in your bedroom as Hiragi plunges two fingers inside of you, your slick cunt sucking them in greedily, clenching around them over and over. As much as he wants to slam his dick into you, he has to prepare you first. Your little pussy wasn’t made to take a knot. Hiragi has to make sure he won’t tear you apart when he gives you his.

You’re bucking into every thrust, legs spread wide, and you finally break the seal of his mouth against your chest to bring his bloody lips to yours.

“One more, baby,” you tell him, “get me ready for you, fuck.” Your jaw drops when he slides that third finger alongside the other two, hitting that sweet spot and fucking into it until you scream and gush into his palm.

“Ohh, good boy, just like that,” you praise, encouraging him to keep going with a pleasing scratch between his ears. He noses down your neck, tongue lolling out of his mouth when you start making sweet little sounds, arousal leaking from your gummy walls and soaking his fingers until he pulls them out to watch you squirt like a fucking geyser.

Sliding down your body, he’s got his face shoved between your legs in record time, making you laugh and squeal as he laps up every drop, doing everything he can to make you cum again– “all over my face, princess, give it to me, mark your territory–” He roughly fucks his fingers into you, pulls his face back to stick out his tongue, then moans when you do exactly as your told and make a mess on him.

Hiragi is humping the bed by the time you’re done. He’s dripping with you, smells you everywhere, barely gets his pants down to his thighs before he’s shoving his sticky cock into your fluttering pussy.

There’s no adjustment period, no waiting for you to get used to him or even take a breath. Hiragi sets a brutal rhythm, head thrown back, hips snapping as he loses himself in the feeling of your perfect fucking cunt. So soft and doughy, smearing slick and cream all over his shaft.

You pull his face down to yours for a harsh kiss. Your lips are swollen, and you’re still bleeding from where he bit you earlier. There are so many filthy smells in the air, the stench of sex layered with wanton pheromones. Your head falls back as Hiragi drives into your g-spot, fluid leaking around his cock.

“Never knew you were such a dirty little thing,” Hiragi pants.

The only response he gets is your jaw clamping down on the soft tissue between his neck and shoulder. Your teeth bruise before piercing flesh, drawing blood and leaving their mark.

“Fuck, gonna make me cum,” he growls. You hum around his skin before lifting your face to show off a red-tinted smile.

“Is’at a bad thing?”

You sound drunk. Drunk off his cock, the way he’s fucking you, just like he’s drunk off the way you’re taking him. Squeezing him. Milking him. His knot starts to swell at the base of his dick, growing wider and rounder so that when he uses it to plug you, nothing will spill out.

“Tell me you want it—want it all… spoiled. little. brat—,” he punctuates the last bit with a few well-aimed thrusts, each one moving your body up on the bed and making your tits bounce.

“Want it all–be my good boy, Ragi. Be a good boy and gimme your knot–...” His thrusts get sloppy but never stop. Gripping your thighs, he spreads your legs even more, watching the way he disappears inside of you. That heat builds in his gut, his balls tightening, and with his eyes locked on your creamy hole, Hiragi starts to bully his knot past stretched skin and straining muscle, pushing and pushing as you cry and moan, unable to settle on if you’re lost in pain or pleasure.

“Almost there, princess, it’s almost in.” If you could see what he’s seeing, how pretty your cunt looks getting stuffed fuller than it’s ever been before. “Fuck, look at you…”

Hiragi slips in the rest of the way because you suck him in, pussy contracting with the first waves of your orgasm. You pull him in so tightly then scream as you cum around his knot, walls fluttering, too stuffed to clench the way it wants to.

The sensation has him plummeting into his own climax, his thick cum only adding to the mess inside you. Line after line, he fills you with it, watching the place just between your hips as it becomes bloated.

“Oh my god. Oh my god–I’m… it’s so much,” you whine, looking down at your swelling tummy with wide eyes. “It’s… God, Ragi, m’so full. Can’t–”

He groans as the last bit of cum paints your cervix. His cock is fucking saturated in it, mixing with your own arousal, the pool of squirt you want to push out so bad but can’t because of how he’s plugging you.

“Gonna have to sit with it, baby,” he tells you, voice gravelly. “Stuck like this until my knot goes down.”

You lick your lips, chest still heaving, and Hiragi is too hot for this, shirt drenched against his back. He pulls it off, jostling the both of you in the process so that you whimper and he moans. You're stretched thin around him, your pretty folds chubby from blood flow, puffy clit slick and begging for attention.

Hiragi smirks as he brings his thumb to it, chuckles when you instinctually pull away but can’t. All you do is tug him forward, bringing him down on top of you. He uses one hand to catch himself, the other still between your legs, and plays with you until you’re cumming again, tears streaming down the sides of your face when he doesn’t stop.

He’s long past domestic, now in a feral state as he licks up your cheek, catching the salt on his tongue. His thumb keeps rubbing circles on your overstimulated bud, and your legs tremble violently, still spread wide to accommodate him.

Your next orgasm pulls his second from him. He shoots another large load into you, abandoning your clit so that he can place his hand on your belly.

“You didn’t know what you were getting into, did you?” he hums, nuzzling into your neck, “didn’t know you were gonna be all swollen with my cum.”

You shake your head, more tears falling, but your words betray any discomfort you might be feeling.

“Want m-more of it,” you sniffle.

Hiragi growls and nips at the skin below your ear, heart full of primal possession and affection as his cock throbs inside of you.

“I’ve got so much more to give you,” he murmurs, kissing the bruise he just left. “I’ll spoil you real good, princess. Promise.”