#there's no way to keep these things from filtering right back into the rich people hoarding circle

[etherealyoungk]

— ✦ sugar & spice | jeon wonwoo

PAIRING: bodyguard!wonwoo x celebrity!reader (fem!reader)

SUMMARY: it wasn’t your fault you were born with a silver spoon in your mouth, however, the people had a lot to say about that, especially since your father a public figure. but when he’s falsely accused of taking bribes and money laundering, your whole life falls apart, and things start to get out of hand and dangerous. that’s when you meet wonwoo - the bodyguard who’s been assigned to stay by your side and protect you 24/7. the only problem? he was really cold, but also irresistibly attractive. it was going to be a task to try and befriend him, but who said you weren’t up for the challenge. 

THEMES: bodyguard au, mutual pining, slow burn

WARNINGS: use of curse words, mentions of anxiety, social anxiety, panic attack, crowds, fighting, violence, kissing, suggestive, just wonwoo being a whole heartthrob

WORDCOUNT: 29.2k

A/N: this fic was so self-indulgent oh my god. thank you to rania @wheeboo for feeding my delusions for this fic and proofreading it for me, ilysm <33 reblogs and feedback are always appreciated ^^ i would love to know your thoughts! enjoy reading ^^

full fic under the cut

“all right, class, that’s it for today. please come collect your mock test papers as you exit”, the professor announces and everyone starts talking, the room echoing with voices and movement as people get up, their feet shuffling as they stand in line to collect their papers from the front.

you come up in front and your professor gives you a smile as he hands yours back to you. “good job yn, near perfect score”, he says and you smile back. “thanks prof”, you tell, beaming as you take your paper and move. but you don’t miss the snide remark told by someone behind you and the few laughs that occur. but you ignore the comment and walk away.

you were used to people telling you that, people envying you and not in a nice way. you’d heard all kinds of things all your life. “bet they only got in because of her connections” or “they’re only top of the class because of they’re father’s influence” but all of those were very untrue. you were truly passionate about what you were studying and doing, but the people didn’t seem to think so. 

yes, you were born with a silver spoon in your mouth, coming from a prestigious family with a lot of influence - your dad being a huge business tycoon, which made your family really rich and influential. but growing up, you wanted nothing more than to be not associated with him. your name was always tied with his - and you hated that. it never gave you the chance to be your own person, to have your own identity, which you craved for.

growing up only became harder when your mother passed away when you were still young. she was ill and there was nothing that could be done to save her, it had been too late. your moments and memories with her were limited considering you were only ten when she passed away, but still, everything you remembered about her you cherished, and you aimed to make her proud one day, proud of the person you’ve become. as a token from your mother, you had kept her ring and no, not her wedding ring, but another ring she wore. it was a dainty ring with a pretty pattern and you had always loved that ring as a child. so now you wore it, to remember her, to keep some part of her with you.

and of course, with growing up, the biggest struggle of all for you was making friends. when you were younger, you were actually good at making friends, you had plenty in fact. but as you grew up, you learned to see who was just befriending you for ulterior motives and whatnot, and you soon became good at filtering who you really became friends - close friends with. but in all those years, you only made two friends like that. they were the purest and sweetest souls ever - rania and skye. they were your best friends. they were your childhood friends and the only ones you opened up to and grew close to. while you still had a group of friends you interacted with on an everyday and casual basis, there wasn’t anyone you were close with besides them. there was also your current boyfriend - jaehyun. it was silly really, you had a crush on him for a while and soon the news spread from god knows where and one day he asked you out. you were so head over heels that you said yes of course, because which fool would turn down their crush? 

you're sitting across the table from your father, who’s busy talking to someone on the phone. it was a weekly thing that you had to have dinner at your father’s house.

"yes i want to see a sample of the product before we send it into manufacturing”, your father speaks to the person on the other line.

you stare down at your plate, moving your fork around as you listen to him speak. you and your father didn’t have the best relationship, it was rocky and messy, to say the least. ever since your mother passed away, you both drifted apart, your father focusing on the business and you just trying to get through the days as you tried to cope with the sudden loss. and you both somehow stayed like that, drifted apart. but that didn’t mean he was a bad guy. he still did nice things for you and you both had your moments, but it was strained. let's just say he wasn't the best father figure growing up.

you were used to having filler conversations about your life with your father like this. all he does is nod before he goes back to scrolling on his phone. half the time during your childhood and even now, you barely saw your father. he was always busy with work or attending meetings about god knows what. so that meant you were all alone in the big house which got lonely. that’s when you decided to move into a different house, have your own space and make it cosy too. at first, your father wasn’t too keen on the idea, but you were old enough now, in college too, so he agreed. so now you live alone in a house comfortable enough to make into your own little safe haven.

you unlock your front door, sliding into your house slippers as you trudge inside, discarding your bag on the couch as you open the fridge to grab a bottle of cold water to refresh yourself. today had been a long day. apart from studies, you also volunteered at a local cat shelter for rescues and the local public library. you enjoyed doing both things so you were more than happy to volunteer. they both had their perks 1) free cuddles and serotonin from all the kittens and cats 2) you could borrow as many books as you wanted so it was a win-win.

you were used to your father being on the news, he was a businessman after all, an influential man, someone important. but with all that came all the trolls, the hate and people who were obviously jealous and disliked him for no reason at all. all this in turn was also directed towards you. you were often called the silver spoon kid, nepo baby, or someone who’s life was handed to you on a silver platter. for the most of the time, you tried to ignore them, but of course as any normal human, it affected you. you hated it at times infact. you hated how people could concoct a ridiculous assumption about you based on nothing and it infuriated you. but you’d learn to grow up with it, grow up being watched, hounded at, judged at and trolled at. that was what you get for simply existing and being born in a wealthy family. and somewhere along the way you developed an anxiety about this and it made you scared to get close and open up to people. 

when you first joined college, it was hell. people took pictures without your consent all the time and they still did at times, but you’ve given up at trying to stop it. you were used to people's cameras at you, fingers at you, talking about you and also using you. everyone wanted to be your friend and butter you up to you, but when you started putting boundaries, they were quick to call you names. you were surrounded by paparazzi going to you during the first week and even now on the occasional basis, someone was always following you and snapping pictures of you. even if you told yourself it was okay, it was not and deep down you hated it. but what could you do? 

your father, well he didn’t seem to mind all the comments being told about him, as long as his business went well at the end of the day. but if you were going to be honest, your father was pretty smart and he had a knack for what he was doing, that’s what made him so successful. but that didn’t mean he didn’t hit bumps along the way, oh he did. you still remember the headline your father made when he invested money into a broken startup. but now he was making millions as the company took off. 

today morning was a good day. the sun was shining bright and the clouds were white against the blue sky. it wasn’t too hot, a comfortable temperature - it was the ideal day and you were more than happy about this weather. you get ready for college, it was your last semester before you graduated. you grab your phone from the desk table only to realise it was dead and you plug it in as you head to the bathroom to get ready. you quickly put on an outfit, grab your books, bag, and your phone on the way out. you lock your door and raise your hand to unlock your car, opening the door and sitting inside. you drive to college, putting on some music, in a good mood today as you softly sing along to the song that was playing on the radio.

you park your car in the parking lot, which was already crowded and you mentally cursed at the way people parked sometimes. you exit the car and walk towards campus, trying to unlock your phone but it doesn't open. that’s when you realise it was still dead - silly you had forgot to turn on the switch when you plugged your phone in. you mentally curse as you walk towards class, hoping someone had a spare phone charger for you to use. but that’s when you get a feeling - a feeling that you were being watched. and when you glance up, you can see people looking at you, whispering things in hushed voices between themselves. you brushed it off as nothing and continued walking.

a couple of people pass by you, looking right at you as they pass a comment. “see i knew your father was a crooked man”, he tells and the others laugh as they walk away. what? you were completely confused and the fact that almost everyone was looking at you as you kept walking made you nervous all of a sudden. this wasn’t good. you spot your professor and he comes walking towards you, in big strides, like he is in a hurry. “hello yn”, he says, faking a smile. “hello professor”, you reply. “i would like to have a word with you, please follow me”. he says and you can still feel everyone’s eyes on you as you walk behind your professor.

he closes the door behind him and urges you to sit down as he takes a seat in front of you.

“i’m sorry to hear about your father yn”, he starts and you furrow your brows, utterly confused. “i would like for you to meet with the principal so we can hopefully come to an understanding about how you will be completing your semester over here”, he continues and you’re lost.

“i’m sorry but i don’t quite follow”, you say, and he just blinks back at you. 

“do you not know? have you not seen the news?”, he asks, surprised. 

“what news?”, you ask again and watch as he fetches out his phone, handing it to you. and there it was, the headline that made your jaw drop.

“mr. __ a certified criminal, took bribes and laundered money”. 

what the fuck? your eyes quickly scan the article, reading the things your father was being accused of. there was no way he would do that, he wouldn't you thought. you look back up at your professor and hand the phone back to him, at a complete loss for words.

“i really had no idea about this”, you tell. “i think it would be better for you to go home today and then we can have a talk about this later this week along with the principal okay”, he says and you’re dismissed. you take a deep breath as you open the door and walk out, and hallway is quick to quiet down and you can feel the eyes of everyone on you. 

“hope your father rots in jail”, you hear a guy say and the others laugh. you hear a few more snide remarks as you walk out back to your car and you take a deep breath again. what the fuck was happening right now. you start the car and drive to your father’s house because you need answers.

you storm into the house, and your father is already sitting down at the table with his lawyer. “can someone please explain what is going on”, you yell as soon as you see your father. 

“yn” , your father says, upon seeing you. 

“you took bribes??”, you ask and you can see the small flash of hurt on his face before he composes himself as he answers you. “no yn, this is simply not true. i am being falsely accused”, he says calmly.

“so what’s going to happen now?”, you ask.

“this is defamation, there is absolutely no evidence to these claims”, your father fills in.

a week passes by and you somehow manage to make it to class, but obviously, everyone is still talking about you. rumors are goingand around like wildfire and people keep telling you nasty things, leaving you mean comments on your social media. even the paparazzi around you are following you everywhere suddenly and you hate this. your whole world was turning upside down and you find yourself driving to your father’s house that evening again, only to see people crowded around the house. puzzled, you get out of your car and you're immediately surrounded by the paparazzi and a hound of people as they recognise you. you see your father in the crowd and that’s when you notice the police officers and then the handcuff on your father’s hands.

“father!”, you yell out and he looks at you. you try to move forward, make your way towards him but someone pushes you down before someone else grabs your hand. “you little thief, no wonder you’re so rich”, he mutters out and you try to pry his hand off you but he doesn’t let go. “yn!” you hear your father yell and soon the police pry the man off you. you watch as your father is escorted into the police vehicle he’s driven off. 

the camera flashes continue and people keep yelling nasty things and you run towards your car, getting in and following the police car. at the police station, you get a chance to talk to your father with his lawyer present. 

“what is happening?”, you ask. “i thought you said this was a false accusation, why are you being arrested?”, you ask, looking between your father and his lawyer, jeonghan who was a competent man in his line of business.

“it seems there has been some evidence found", your father says, in a rather relaxed manner. 

“so what’s going to happen now?”, you ask, worried.

“i will have to stand trial and prove my innocence”, he adds. you see as he glances down at your wrist which you’re massaging gently. 

“are you okay, i saw what happened back there’, he adds. 

“y-yeah im okay”, you tell quickly. 

“no, this is not okay. you’re going to be affected by all the things happening now and things are getting dangerous and out of hand”, he tells. 

“i can manage”, you say.

“no, you cannot, things will only get worse from here, especially when the trial starts and they are all going to be taking their anger out on you. i cannot risk anything happening to you. so it’s decided”, your father says.

“what’s decided?”, you ask.

“you’ll be having a bodyguard with you 24/7 from now onwards”, your father adds.

“what? father there is no need-", you start before you're interrupted.

“yn listen to your father, he is right” jeonghan interjects and you sigh. there was no point arguing over here. in hindsight, things were bound to get out of control and having a bodyguard around did seem wise. the thought that something worse could happen to you makes you shiver.

“hire only the best”, my father tells and jeonghan nods. “i know just the person” he tells, assuring my father. 

you didn’t step out of your house the next day. paparazzi surrounded your home and you were in no ability to go out without being followed. the pictures of your father’s arrest and your face were plastered all over the internet and new articles, with all sorts of headlines. by 12pm everyone seemed to have gotten tired of waiting (thank god) and your driveway was finally clear. you’re in jeans and a top, rummaging through your pantry when you hear your doorbell ring. you immediately stand straight. who could this be?

you walk towards your door and peek through the peephole but you can only see the body of someone and you hear a voice you recognise. your father’s lawyer - jeonghan, so you open the door. 

“i didn’t know you were coming”, you tell and smile. “i texted you”, he adds. “must've missed it”, you add before glancing at the other man standing next to him, who you noticed was quite tall.

“please come in “, you add only for jeonghan to refuse. “no no, i must get going to prepare for your father’s case. i just came to introduce you to your bodyguard”, he explains. 

“oh, i see”, you tell softly. 

“he’ll be with you wherever you’re going. escort and protect you wherever you’re going. i’ve already briefed him and given him a copy of your schedules, but if you’re going anywhere, he is to accompany you”, he tells you, making sure you knew, like he knew you would try to sneak off. 

“yes yes alright”, you tell, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“well, get introduced then, i have to get going”, he tells, as his phone rings and he walks off, leaving you standing in front of the door with this mysterious man.

as you look at him, you realise how tall he was because wow, he was really tall, and really handsome. he towered over you easily as you looked up at him. he’s wearing a clean, crisp black suit, which has been tailored to his body, making the fit perfect, showing off his build and his hair was styled to expose his forehead. his foxy-like eyes hold a mysterious but focused gaze. damn, he was hot. your eyes sweep over his body one more time before he’s clearing his throat and you're shaken away from your thoughts.

“hello, im jeon wonwoo and i'll be your bodyguard from today”, he tells, his voice deep as he looks at you, his alluring gaze catching your attention.

“hi! i’m yn! nice to meet you”, you say a little too enthusiastically as you hold out your hand for a handshake. you’re already cringing at your actions but wonwoo reaches out and shakes your hand nonetheless and gives you a small nod. 

after that there is a moment of awkward silence before you speak again. “um i don’t think i’ll be going anywhere today so you can start tomorrow”, you tell. you didn’t want him to be waiting around unnecessarily. he just looks down at you.

“i have been assigned to stay by your side at all times”, he tells. “but i’m just going to be home”, you tell. “it’s fine uh - i can call you wonwoo right?”, you ask and he gives you a curt yes.

“right wonwoo, it’s all right, just clock off work, it’s fine for today”, you tell and he looks like he’s thinking before he speaks again. 

“if you insist”, is all he says before he gives you a small nod of acknowledgement, telling you he’ll be here tomorrow before he’s turning around and walking off. 

the next morning, you’re sleeping peacefully when you hear your doorbell ring. who was at your doorstep so early? you must be hearing things you think. after a few moments you hear your doorbell ring again and you groan as you let out a yawn, unwillingly getting out of bed as you drag your feet to the door, your eyes barely open, still laced with sleep. you open the door to see a tall figure in front of you, your eyes still unfocused and you're confused before you hear the voice.

“good morning”, he tells and you blink your eyes a couple of times before you realise who it was. 

“oh wonwoo hi”, you tell, trying to process this information. “it’s only uh-”  “7am”, he fills in.

“right, 7am”, you tell, yawning again. “why are you here so early?”, you ask and your eyes a bit more awake now to take in the sight in front of you. wonwoo was adorned in another crisp suit, his hair perfectly styled and you could smell the waft of his cologne as you stood.

“my working hours start from 7am”, he tells matter of factly. “right, uh okay just come in”, you tell, moving inside, not bothering to see if he was following you. you go back to your room to fetch your phone, seeing an email from your professor. they wanted to have a meeting with the principal - well this couldn’t be good. 

the entire time you’re getting ready, wonwoo is just standing in one corner of your hall. you told him he could sit but he insisted on standing so you just shrug your shoulders and let it go. you don’t have the time to eat breakfast and you lock your house door, about to get in the car when wonwoo speaks again. 

“i’ll drive”, he tells, holding his hand out for the key. 

“oh no, it’s fine i can manage”, you tell.

“i’ve been told to drive you wherever you need”, he adds, looking at you and he had the look of someone you did not want to interfere in his work with.

there was no point arguing with this man was there? you sigh, handing him the key and sitting in the front seat next to him because sitting in the complete back would  make you feel weird. wonwoo somehow knew the route to your college and he parks the car effortlessly in the parking lot, which is honestly impressive. (or you just had bad parking skills shh)

you see the crowd as you step out, and through all the people and you can even spot a few paparazzi if you looked carefully. you glance back at wonwoo and then the campus entrance. if you went with wonwoo, you were definitely going to get attention - unwanted attention that is. he was obviously going to stand out in that outfit of his. 

“just stay here, i’ll be back, it’ll be quick”, you say.

“i'm afraid i can’t do that, i’m assingned to accompany you wherever you go as your bodyguard”, he says, looking at you.

“i know, but i’ll be quick, nothing will happen”, you add as you unbuckle your seatbelt.

“i will be accompanying you”, he responds. even with all those looks he was really dense huh, it was like talking to a wall.

“fine god just come”, you finally tell, slightly annoyed. jeonghan really got you a tough bodyguard didn't he.

as soon as you step foot on campus, everyone’s head turns towards you and obviously everyone is whispering something about the man following behind you - wonwoo. you mentally curse as the crowd around you becomes larger as you walk, everyone stopping to see what was going on. wonwoo is quick to maintain an arm’s distance outside as he walks beside you and making sure people don't surround you. you try to look down as you just walk ahead, straight into the principal's office. wonwoo stands outside. 

“yn glad you could make it”, your professor says, as the principal sits beside, just giving you a small nod. 

“what did we need to talk about”, you ask, looking between your principal and professor.

you watch as your principal sits up straighter, interlocking his palms on the table before they speak. 

“i know you just have a semester left before you graduate”, he starts off. “but given the current situation, it would be hard for us to continue classes with you being present”, he adds.

“i could do online classes”, you suggest but you principle just shakes his head.

“yn, we acknowledge the effort and dedication you have demonstrated throughout your academic journey at our institution. your accomplishments have been commendable, and we recognize the hard work you have put into your studies”, he starts. “we really do yn”, your professor adds.

“but we have to bring attention to a significant concern that has risen due to recent incidents involving you and a related controversy”, your principal continues.

oh god, where was this conversation going. you’re about to open your mouth to speak when your principle starts talking again. 

“the college has carefully assessed the situation and after thorough consideration, it has been determined that unfortunately, you will be unable to graduate at this time. this decision is a result of the impact of the controversy on the overall reputation and values of the institution”, he finishes and it takes you two seconds to fully understand the situation and what was exactly going on right now.

“what?”, you let out, shocked. “we know this might be sudden but we are-”, 

“no no, this is not fair, you can’t do this”, you interject. 

“it is fair, considering the reputation of our institution is on the line”, he adds. 

“excuse me?”, you scoff. “i'm in no way related to what is going on right now”, you add.

“it is involving your father”, he says. “exactly, my father, not me. so i do not see why you would have to go to this extreme”, you tell, not letting this go lightly.

“yn”, your professor says in a warning tone.

“four years. four years of my life i’ve spent studying and working hard and you’re just gonna throw that all away and not let me graduate over a controversy? over something that is not true let me tell you that”, you tell, upset. “that’s not right and not fair”, you add. “letting me graduate is the least you can do, it’s only a semester come on”, you plead. 

“the decision is final”, your principal tells. 

“what no, you can let me take the semester later, i can still graduate then”, you suggest, trying to be hopeful but the air in the room was tense.

“yn thank you for your time and we wish you all the luck in your future”, you principal tells, completely dismissing you. 

“you can’t do this, you’ll be hearing from me remember that”, you tell, standing up and pulling the door open, walking out. the hallways are thankfully relatively empty because it’s class hours and everyone was in the lecture halls or study rooms. but as you turn you bump into jaehyun. 

“jaehyun hi!”, you tell as you approach him. “i'm so sorry i haven’t been able to text you, i’ve been so occupied”, you tell as jaehyun barely looks at you as you speak, checking his phone, texting someone else. 

“i’m free this week though so i thought we could go out to dinner or something”, you suggest, hoping that maybe a date would help you get your mind off things.

“yeah i’m not sure about that”, he tells. “oh are you busy? we can-”

“listen yn, considering everything going on right now, i wouldn’t want to be seen with you”, he tells and you’re hurt by his words. 

“but i don’t see how that matters if you like me”, you tell, trying to hold it together. 

jaehyun only lets out a small laugh. “like you? i only dated you because you were rich, was a nice thing to boast about until your dad had to be revealed as a thief”, he tells, mocking you and his words sting.

“that’s not true”, you tell. “i hope he rots in jail”, he adds, before leaving, having completely trampled over your heart and feelings. 

you’ve completely forgotten about wonwoo and it’s only when you turn around that you see him, a few paces behind you and no doubt he heard everything, just great. you bite the inside of your cheek as you look down, walking ahead and walking straight to the car, embarrassed but also upset. you get in the car, not bothering for wonwoo to open the door for you and sit inside, tears welling in your eyes. wonwoo stands outside like he’s unsure, giving you a moment of privacy before you’re rolling down the window and telling him to drive you home.

the car ride is quiet and you’re just looking out the window the entire time, trying not to cry. it wasn't fair. any of this wasn’t fair. you just wanted to curl up and hide right now. you can feel your stomach rumbling, protesting for not being given breakfast and you sigh, putting a hand on your stomach. now that you were aware, you were actually really hungry. you had half the mind to stop somewhere and buy something but you didn’t want to deal with people right now. 

“did you eat breakfast?”, you ask wonwoo, feeling suffocated with the silence in the car. 

“not exactly, but i did eat something”, he informs. you nod your head, thinking of what else to ask him.

“so how come you chose this bodyguard business”, you ask, glancing over at wonwoo.

“it suits me, i’m good at it”, he replies, giving you a short answer. 

“right, i see”. 

a few more seconds of silence follows before wonwoo speaks. “are you okay?”, he asks, his eyes still trained on the road ahead of him. his question takes you aback. it had been ages since someone asked you that. are you okay? those three words that had the capability of making you rethink your life and look into yourself. were you okay? no, not really. life sucked right now and you wanted nothing more than to just curl up in bed and cry. 

“i-i don’t know”, you answer, letting out a sigh as your fingers play with your mother's ring on your hand, something you did when you were anxious or lost in thought. 

“i’m used to it, it’s fine”, you add quickly.

after a few more minutes, wonwoo is pulling up into your driveway and he parks the car, getting out. you don’t know how this man managed to walk so fast because just as you’re about to turn your body to open the door, wonwoo is already there, holding the car door open for you. 

“oh um thank you”, you tell softly as you get out. 

you realized it was going to take you a while to break into wonwoo’s wall and befriend him. it looked like he was going to be with you for a while, until the trial was over atleast so might as well become friends. he did prove to be a hell though, it was like talking to a robot, but who said you weren’t up for the challenge?

it’s a new week and wonwoo is driving you to the cat shelter since it’s your day to volunteer today. atleast during all these sudden changes in your life, this was a constant. it felt comforting in a way. the animal shelter was run by a sweet lady who also adored you. coming here always made you feel better, no matter how shitty your day had been. 

you enter the shelter and immediately all the cats recognise your scent and meow, as if they were welcoming you. the owner comes out to see what the commotion was about and smiles upon seeing you.

“yn! it’s so nice to see you”, she greets, pulling you in for a hug. 

“it’s good to be back”, you tell. 

“who’s this mystery man”, she asks, referring to wonwoo.

“my bodyguard. with everything happening and the trial and all, things are getting out of hand ”, you explain and she nods. “quite the catch isn’t he”, she says, teasing you and you chuckle.

“i'm so sorry to hear about all this though, just know i’m here for you”, she tells. 

“thank you”, you tell, grateful.

“well you carry on, i just need to finish writing these invoices and i’ll join you”, she adds, walking back to the office room and you’re left alone with all the cats.

“hello fluffy”, you tell, looking down to the cat who’s brushing against your legs, 

wonwoo stands at the side of the room like he’s been punished even though you again insist that he can sit down but he insists on standing. you sigh, whatever suited him. you turn your attention back to the cats surrounding you and start your duties. 

you had to clean their litter, feed them and make sure the ones who were on medication were given the medicine. after you’re done cleaning the litter, you realise you need to open a new bag of litter, the only problem? it was 15kgs heavy and in no way were you capable of lifting that huge bag to the litterbox area. you go back to the front and wonwoo is still standing, his hands neatly folded in front of him as he just stares at the wall. he really needs to relax you thought. you walk up to him, hands on your hip.

“i need your help, come here”, you ask and you hear the shuffle of wonwoo’s feet behind you as you walk. 

“can you help me lift this?”, you ask, holding one end of the bag. wonwoo doesn’t say a word as he holds the bag and lifts it himself effortlessly and carries it to where you want it. damn, he was strong. 

you fill up the box with new litter, washing your hands and come back to the front. 

“i have a surprise for you”, you hear the owner say and she walks towards one of the boxes covered by a cloth. she uncovers it and a second later you hear a high pitched meow, followed by another and another. 

“oh my god”, you squeal. “poe littered! i completely forgot she was due”, you tell, looking as she brings the box down and the kittens overflow out of the box in a frenzy, climbing out of the box and making their way towards you with their wobbly but determined feet. you bend down to see them and they’re adorable. you watch as the battalion of kittens make their way to wonwoo, climbing on his shoes and meowing up at him, ambushing him practically.

you giggle as one cheeky kitten even climbs up wonwoo’s suit and all the way to his shoulder, sitting there perched while wonwoo just stands there, completely ignoring the fact that he was being attacked by vicious kittens right now. 

“you should adopt that one, it likes you”, you tell as you hold a kitten in your hands, referring to the one sitting perched on his shoulder. 

“i already have a cat at home”, he tells and this piece of information makes you raise your brows in surprise.

“really? you have a cat”, you ask in surprise. “i do”, he answers quietly.

“oh my god, show me a picture”, you ask.

wonwoo only blinks at you. “i refrain from using my phone during work hours”, he tells smoothly and you roll your eyes. 

“come on wonwoo, don’t be like that. it’s fine, just show me”, you ask again. “please?”, you add and wonwoo looks at you for a few more seconds before he’s moving his hand to remove his phone from his jacket pocket. the kitten on his shoulder makes a move, almost about to fall but wonwoo is quick to catch it and it’s now sitting in the palm of his hand, as he operates his phone with the other hand. he turns his phone towards you, revealing the picture of his cat. 

“her name is oreo”, he tells.

“aww she’s so pretty and so cute!!”, you exclaim. wonwoo’s cat was gorgeous actually. she was a black cat with white paws, white whiskers and a patch of white on her neck and chest. 

“she’s a rescue too”, he adds, and that little piece of information lifts your heart. 

“that’s nice. her little white paws are adorable oh my gosh”, you tell as you smile up at wonwoo. “they’re like little socks”, you say, chuckling at yourself as you hand his phone back to him. you notice how the kitten in his hand was busy chewing the end of his tie. if you looked carefully, you could see the faintest hint of a smile on his lips right now as he watched the kitten playing in his hands. how cute.

wonwoo drives you back home after you finish all your duties at the shelter and you get a text from jeonghan about your father’s trial. the first trial was set for next week. 

you're just at home and you’re certainly not used to the intrusion to your sleep at 7am every day now when wonwoo comes to work to start his duties. you told him to stay at home and you’d call him if you needed him but no, he didn’t listen. so here he was at 7am on the dot everyday at your doorstep. you yawn as you open the door, mumbling something to wonwoo about changing his work timings to 9am instead. 

you’re brushing your teeth, walking around the room and you can see wonwoo standing as usual. you wash your face and head towards the kitchen. you needed coffee now. you glance towards wonwoo occasionally because honestly, even if he was just standing there, he looked so….effortlessly handsome. oh my god. you should not be having these thoughts right now. it was too early for this. you really needed some coffee to get your head straight.

“do you want some coffee?”, you ask wonwoo as you look at him.

“i’m good, thank you”, he says. of course he was going to say that.

“how do you like your coffee?”, you prod him again. 

“black”, he says.

and of course he likes his coffee black. 

“well, i like a latte, ice or hot depending on my mood, sometimes with caramel sauce if i’m feeling fancy but otherwise mostly plain”, you tell, dumping this piece of information onto wonwoo as you struggle to open your coffee powder jar. you try again but it wasn’t budging. you try again this time, trying to concentrate all your strength onto your hand, but it didn’t work and it wasn’t opening. without a word, wonwoo comes forward and offers to open it. he takes the jar from your hands and opens it effortlessly in one shot, probably because of his super strength. you mumble out a thank you and instead of letting him go back to that sad corner beside the wall, you ask him to take a seat in front.

“wonwoo, you should know that you standing there at the side of the room like you’ve been punished is just extremely weird. please sit, i’m not gonna kill you, seriously, i’m a nice person”, you explain, your hand pointing to the stool that was on the left of him. “i would prefer-”, he starts. “no, i would prefer if you just sat please. you’re supposed to listen to whatever i say right”, you tell, looking at him with your hands crossed over your chest.

he doesn’t say anything but finally takes a seat and you do a little celebration inside your head. “see! that’s so much better”, you tell, already feeling at ease. 

you continue making your coffee and you’re halfway through making your coffee when you hear your doorbell ring. you glance at wonwoo before putting your mug down. but wonwoo gets up, telling you he’ll check who it was. 

“who are you?”, you hear wonwoo ask as he opens the door and you walk up to the door, curious. “who is it?”, you ask and when the person comes into view, you let out an excited squeal.

“RANIAA”, you exclaim, accidentally pushing wonwoo to the side as you pull rania inside, only to see skye behind them. “OH MY GOD”, you exclaim again, pulling rania into a hug and then skye. meanwhile wonwoo just stands in the corner of the cramped doorstep, regaining his balance from your not so subtle shove.

“what are you guys doing here”, you ask, once all the excitement has toned down and both rania and skye are seated on the couch. 

“we’ve been seeing the news and everything that’s been happening”, skye says.

“so we came to support you, it must be so hard right now”, rania adds. 

“aw you guys are really the best”, you tell. it had been years since you last saw them, both of them having moved to different countries. though you guys were separated by distance, you were still connected by your unhinged and chaotic group chat.

“by the way, who’s the handsome hunk over there”, rania asks, not so subtly. 

“rania jeez, he’s my bodyguard calm down”, you tell but you don’t miss the glint in their eyes. 

“is he single”, rania asks and you glare at them.

“stop it”, you tell and skye chuckles beside you.

“wait, weren’t you dating jaehyun?”, skye adds and your face falls. “yeah about that, he uh dumped me”, you tell and skye is quick to pull you in a reassuring embrace. 

“this is your sign to date that guy, shoot your shot before it’s too late bestie”, rania encourages, making you laugh. 

“enough about me, how are you guys? how’s seungkwan and soonyoung”, you ask, eager to know more about them. you watch as rania and skye exchange a glance between themselves before looking at you.

“they’re coming here tomorrow”, they tell in unison and you almost yell. “really?”, you ask, shocked but also excited. 

“they wanted to see you too so we dragged them along with us, but there was a goof up with the plane tickets and they had to rebook on a different flight”, skye explains. 

“it’s okay, we can all go out together tomorrow”, you tell and they smile. 

rania and skye end up going back at the end of the day and poor wonwoo had to witness you three maybe talk a little too much. you were sure he was glad when he clocked off work, beyond relieved he didn’t have to hear you all chatter anymore. even though you told him he could leave early, that you were going to just be home, he again didn't listen to you, saying that he would stay, saying something about upholding his duty. rania bombarded him with too many questions and you were sure he was going to get more from seungkwan and soonyoung tomorrow, poor guy. 

the next day you’re excited to see your besties again and wonwoo is yet again standing near the wall like he’s a statue. you’ve given up at this point really. before they arrived, you briefed wonwoo on being nice to them, especially to seungkwan and soonyoung, who were probably going to hound him with questions again today. “don’t be mean to them if they ask you questions”, you tell, pointing a finger at wonwoo. “be nice to them okay?”, you tell, adding a little glare to make sure your point went across. 

you wear a simple yet cute outfit and before you know it, your house is filled with laughter and smiles as soonyoung and seungkwan greet you. 

“oh my god, it’s so nice to see you guys!”, you tell, excited as soonyoung and seungkwan smile back at you. “same here yn”, they tell. 

“we planned a little double date”, skye tells. “make it a triple date, you can ask wonwoo to join”, rania adds, winking at you and you roll your eyes at her.

“who is what”, seungkwan asks, finally noticing the other presence in the room.

“my bodyguard. given the current situation my father thought it would be best”, you explain. 

“woah he looks strong”, soonyoung adds and before you know it, both the boys make their way to wonwoo while you girls decide on where to go for your little double or well triple date.

“hello”, soonyoung says to wonwoo. wonwoo only responds with a small nod of his head, standing still. 

“how long have you been a bodyguard for?”, seungkwan asks.

wonwoo glances at seungkwan, looks him up and down before answering. “four years”, wonwoo tells. 

“woah! so how’d you become one? is there like a special training school for this?”, soonyoung asks, completely serious and utterly curious. 

“it’s a sub branch in the security industry”, is all wonwoo answers with. 

“can i ask you a question”, seungkwan asks, bringing his hand around wonwoo’s shoulder which wonwoo shrugs off in a second. 

“what do you think of yn?”, seungkwan adds, acting like he wasn’t just shrugged off by wonwoo.

“yn is my client”, wonwoo says, like he’s stating a fact.

“i know she’s your client dude but what do you think of her, you know?”, seungkwan adds, trying to knock some sense into wonwoo, who clearly didn’t have any romantic braincell.

“you should take her out on a date, cheer her up. i'm sure she feels bad about everything happening with her father and all”, seungkwan explains nicely.

“yeah!”, soonyoung adds. we’re going on a double date anyway, you can join us and it’ll become a triple date”, soonyoung adds with enthusiasm. 

wonwoo just stares at these two boys like they’re idiots before answering. “that’s not in my job description”, he tells.

seungkwan visibly gets annoyed. “man, you’re really dense you know”, he adds. “it’s gonna hurt your romantic life in the long run buddy”, seungkwan adds with a look. 

wonwoo doesn’t say anything and that was the last straw for seungkwan and he grabs soonyoung’s arm, both of them making their way to the couch where you were busy chatting.

“okay, so we’re getting sushi”, rania announces and everyone cheers. you guys headed to the sushi place, wonwoo, you, rania and skye in one car and seungkwan and soonyoung following behind in the car they rented. you reach the sushi place and you guys sit inside. it seemed like today was your lucky day because you didn’t see any paps around or didn’t anyone seem to recognise you. you all took a seat while wonwoo told you that he’d wait by the car. you asked him (while rania almost yelled at him to join us) but he was stern about staying by the car. you let him be because you didn’t want to inconvenience him at the end of the day. you weren’t going to cross his boundaries if he didn’t want to. you finish your sushi date and come home happy and satisfied.

later that week, you get to meet with jeonghan, your father’s lawyer, to see how things are going regarding your father’s trial. 

“so mr. jeon has been telling me you haven’t been going to college? i know things have been bad but missing classes in your last semester is not the thing to be doing”, jeonghan tells.

“he’s reporting to you now is he?”, you ask, your brow raised. “well i did hire him”, he adds.

“i’m not missing classes on purpose…it’s just that”, you start sighing. “they told me i can’t graduate because of everything happening and father’s controversy. something about damaging the institution’s reputation”, you tell and jeonghan sits up straighter.

“why didn’t you tell me anything before?”, jeonghan asks. 

“i was going to! but then it just slipped my mind, and i know you’ve been busy too”, you add, hoping to redeem yourself.

jeonghan gives you a knowing look. “yn this is no small matter, i will look into this and make sure you can graduate. this is a ridiculous thing to do”, he tells and you nod in approval. “thanks” , you tell and he nods.

“how are you finding your bodyguard?”, jeonghan asks and you already sigh.

“he’s so…i don’t know, he’s so good at what he does but also kinda intimidating. he barely speaks it feels like i’m talking to a wall half the time”, you tell, chuckling. “but he’s cute”, you add, that tiny detail making jeonghan laugh.

“i think it’ll take some time to befriend him but i’m on it”, you add and jeonghan gives you a look. “just don’t get too close”, he adds with a warning. 

you were at the library today, you needed an escape and books seemed like the perfect solace right now. you’re wearing a simple outfit, black jeans with a purple top and a jacket on top because somehow even though the sun was up, the air was chilly and windy. you’re busy arranging the books that have been borrowed back in their rightful places, already knowing which book and genre goes where. wonwoo follows you around silently while you’re aimlessly talking to him about each book you pick up and put back on the shelf, offering him information about it - if you had read it, if it was on your TBR, if it was good, bad or worth a read. wonwoo seemed to be listening to you keenly. you grab the next book, and start telling wonwoo about it.

“i read this book years ago and i still love it to this date, the characters were so funny. but if i’m being honest the guy in this book was kinda an ass”, you add, as you locate the book’s spot on the shelf that was all the way at the top. you went on your tiptoes to reach it, trying to place it but missed. “and now that i’m older, the girl in the book was also a bit stupid you know, like-” you continue, but you feel wonwoo come up behind you and see his hand reach out, taking the book from your outstretched arm and placing in on the shelf with ease. you turn around, looking up at wonwoo, who is now so close to you. 

“why do you think the character was stupid?”, he asks, looking at you curiously. you blink up at him before answering, your mind suddenly distracted as you try to form a coherent sentence. “you know like-it was young love and-uh and they did-some stupid things-that um-i only realised when i got older-”, you stutter out, a flustered mess as you continue to look up at wonwoo. he looked so pretty up close and you could smell his cologne, which only made you want to lean into his presence. you feel your cheeks heat up as you look at him, starting to get lost in his eyes, his gaze. the way he looked at you like nothing else mattered to him apart from you made your heart race. you could feel your heart thumping loudly against your chest as you opened your mouth to speak again but closed it as no words came out. you step to the side, trying to create some distance between wonwoo, but you end up tripping on the stool that was placed there, almost falling, but wonwoo is quick to catch you, his arms catching your waist as he pulls your body against his.

“watch where you step”, wonwoo says as he holds you, and you’re acutely aware of how his hands feel on your body, the way he holds you, strong but gentle. and the way he’s looking at you makes your mind seem to go blank and the faint feeling of butterflies erupts in your stomach. “t-thanks”, you quickly say before you straighten out and stand on your own. you quickly grab a book from the cart and turn around, trying to calm your over-excited heart as you pretend to walk ahead before wonwoo calls out for you. 

“isn’t the historical section that way?”, he asks and you look at the book in your hand. it was a historical book indeed. you huff out a breath and turn around, speed walking past wonwoo as you find the shelf and put the book back in place as you mutter to yourself about why wonwoo had to be so attentive, observant and stupidly attractive.

today is your father’s first trial and you were nervous,. even though jeonghan told you that you didn’t have to come, you wanted to. you knew your father needed your support right now, regardless of how rocky your relationship has been with him. so here you were in the car, nervous, while wonwoo was well, calm. but it was nice, having a calm energy near you, it sort of grounded you. 

you turn the corner to the court and god, it was crowded. people had surrounded the road and courthouse, media and paparazzi waiting to snap photos and cover the event. you realised how serious this was and what it would mean if your father was found guilty, shit.

you observed the crowd, ducking down in your seat a little, already feeling overwhelmed. you hated crowds, especially crowds like this. you knew it wasn’t the good type of crowd and the sense of dread was already pooling in your stomach. maybe you should just turn the car around and go home. your hand is anxiously playing with the ring on your finger and as the car pulls up to the entrance to the courthouse, you can hear the screams and yells of people and see the flashes of light go off as the media take photos. 

you gulp, anxious and the car comes to a halt. wonwoo swiftly gets down and he is quick to open your side of the car. it takes you a second to get out and the minute you get out, people surround you even more. If it wasn’t for the police barricade and wonwoo beside you, you were sure you’d have been trampled.

wonwoo is swift as he guides you inside, making sure no one touches you. he envelopes his other hand around your shoulder, but doesn’t touch you, having a gentleman’s hand while he guides you and you’re relieved once you step inside the building and the yells of people die down. you enter the trial room and take a seat. you spot your father and jeonghan and give them a small smile. your father - well he looked tired. you were just hoping jeonghan could get him through this because you don’t know what you were going to do otherwise.

the prosecution was really piling up all sorts of accusations against your father, but jeonghan was well prepared and defended whatever was coming up. firstly, according to what jeonghan had mentioned, there was no evidence or even if there was it could have been tampered with. the anonymous said person who was said to have tipped off the police with the evidence could not be trusted. jeonghan insisted that this person testify in court and that this anonymous person should be brought in for questioning. 

by the time the first trial is done, it’s already been four hours. the next trial would be held in a few days where witnesses will be brought forward to testify. but from the hush talks in the room after the court was adjourned, you could tell no one was really on your father's side. your father’s company stocks had dropped, brand deals were pulling out and things were obviously not in your father’s favour at all. you were going to try everything in your power to bring your father’s company back up again and prove to everyone that he was indeed innocent. because there’s no way he would have done those things, right?

as you manage to locate jeonghan, who sits down with you for a bit, he tells you about a message from your father. 

“you know the annual business charity club ball that your father attends every year right”, jeonghan says. “yeah”, you tell.

“well, obviously since you father cannot go this year, he’s asked you to go in his place”, jeonghan finishes and you give him a look.

“me? you know i hate that event”, you tell.

“but it’s been planned and it cannot be cancelled, not even in this situation. so, you’re going and it’s final. i will text you the location and date later. but please go, atleast for your father’s sake. he’s losing a lot of people right now so if you could try to restore people’s faith and trust in you and your father, it would be helpful”, jeonghan tells. 

“fine, i guess that’s the least i can do”, you tell as you look at jeonghan. “is he okay? he’ll be okay right?”, you ask and jeonghan nods. “he should be, i’m doing everything in my power to defend him”, jeonghan answers. 

you exit the meeting room with jeonghan and he takes off, saying he has to arrange some documents for the next trial. you weren’t able to meet your father because they didn’t allow you to right now which was a stupid rule. you walk out and you’re looking around for wonwoo but don't see him. and in your search for him, you make the mistake of walking towards the entrance, where the media people were. they spot you and in a second you’re surrounded, with people shoving cameras and mics in your face, bombarding you with questions, all talking over each other as you panic. you try to move but they follow you and soon, you’re being pushed outside and the people outside start yelling when they see you. someone shoves you and you lose your balance, almost falling as someone else grabs your left hand. you yelp out in pain as they yank your hand and just then you feel a figure come up behind you - wonwoo. his hand embraces your shoulder this time, as he holds out another hand to block people. you can feel the hand holding yours let go as wonwoo pries it off you and he pushes people back and people actually do move back because wonwoo meant business. he guides you to the car and you sit, finally away from the crowd. it’s only when you see wonwoo up front at the drivers seat that you realise you were sitting in the passenger seat behind. you didn’t mind though. wonwoo is swift to take a seat and you can feel him look at you through the rearview mirror. he doesn’t say anything, but starts the car and drives. 

by the time you get back home, it’s late, already hitting 10:30pm. it’s only when you are inside does wonwoo finally speak.

“it’s dangerous for you to go out alone”, he says, standing in front of you as you put you bag onto the countertop.

“i was looking for you but i couldn’t find you, i didn’t mean to wander off alone like that”, you try to explain. “it was all too sudden, i really didn’t know what to do”, you add. 

“just wait for me next time”, he asks,

“but where were you?”, you counter.

“i was at the east wing door, waiting for you to finish talking but when i looked inside, you weren’t there.

“oh, i think i exited from the door on the other side, that’s why”, you tell.

"if you don’t see me, call me next time, please”, he says and you nod in understanding. 

wonwoo’s eyes glance down to your hand, the slightest marks of a bruise visible. “is your hand okay?”, he asks, taking a step forward to examine it further. “yeah, it’s fine, it’s-”, you stop as you look at your hand, only to see it bare. your ring, it wasn’t there. you look down on the floor, thinking it must've fallen there but it’s not. your other hand caresses your empty hand where the ring used to be, hoping that it wasn’t really missing but you don’t feel it. you don’t feel the ring. you feel the panic start to set in as you realise what’s just happened. fuck. then it hits you, the courtroom. it must've been pulled off when your hand was grabbed. you had to go back there, you had to look for it.

“we have to go back”, you tell wonwoo, as you step forward, but wonwoo is quick to stop you. 

“yn, it’s late”, he tells sternly.

“no you don’t understand, i lost my ring, it must’ve fallen there, i need to find it”, you tell frantically and wonwoo doesn’t understand why you’ve become so worked up over a ring.

“it’s just a ring yn, you can get another one”, he tells and you snap your head up at him, visibly upset. just a ring? 

“it’s not just a ring wonwoo”, you tell, tears prickling in your eyes. “you wouldn’t understand, fuck, i have to-i have to find it”, you tell again but wonwoo’s hand is firm as he holds you back again. 

“yn”, he says. “no we need to go now”, you yell, pulling your arm loose from his grip “i’ll go myself”, you counter, trying to reach for the car keys on the counter but wonwoo pulls your hand away.

“yn we’ll go later alright”, he tells. “no no no we need to go now”, you yell again, a tear escaping your eyes, rolling down your cheeks slowly. your vision gets blurry and you move back, panic setting in. fuck how could you lose your mothers precious ring. 

“no no no, this can’t be happening”, you mumble. you try to feel for your ring again, hoping that it was all just a misunderstanding, but your finger was empty. you don’t hear wonwoo calling out to you as you ears start ringing and your eyes fill with tears again. “i’m such an idiot how could i lose it”, you tell yourself, beating yourself up over the incident.

wonwoo realised you were having a panic attack, and he also realised that what he said could have been triggering. “yn”, says, coming towards you and you feel the weight of his hands on your shoulders as he looks down at you and you look up at him, a few more tears rolling down your cheeks. “we’ll find your ring okay”, he says, his voice somehow grounding you back to reality. “i promise we’ll go back to find it, but not right now.”, he adds. another tear rolls down your cheek as you sniffle, looking up at wonwoo, feeling helpless. “we’ll find it right”, you ask, your voice barely a whisper. “we will”, he assures. 

wonwoo guides you to the couch and is quick to fetch you a glass of water. surprisingly, he takes a seat next to you, pushing the glass of water to you. you see him reach for something in his jacket pocket and then he reaches his hand out, offering it to you, his handkerchief. you gladly take the handkerchief and dab your cheeks dry, wiping your tears and sniffling as you try to calm down. wonwoo watches as you raise the glass to your lips and take a sip of water. there is silence between you both, unsure of what to say. you close your eyes for a few seconds, trying to gather yourself and your thoughts. 

“i’m sorry”, you mumble out, feeling bad at lashing out at wonwoo and maybe a little embarrassed about crying in front of him. you hated people seeing you cry.

“i should be sorry, it was insensitive of me to say that”, he says, as he watches you take another sip of water. you put the glass down, looking at your finger where your ring adorned it. 

“it was my mother’s ring”, you tell quietly after a few moments of silence. “after she passed away, it was the only token i had to remember her by”, you tell softly, lifting you head up to see wonwoo’s gaze soften as he looks at you. “it’s the only thing i have left of her”, you say, feeling yourself tear up again as you shift your gaze back down to your lap. you look back up at wonwoo and there’s something different about him, a softness in his gaze, his expression and language. “i’m sorry to hear about your mother”, he tells. you offer him a small smile. “it’s okay, i’ve come to terms with it, besides i was really young when it happened”, you add.

you glance at the clock on the wall, seeing the time and releasing that it was late, that it was past wonwoo’s working hours. “oh”, you say softly as your eyes glance at wonwoo and back to the clock. “i’m sorry if i held you back”, you say, referring to the time. wonwoo quickly checks the time on the wristwatch adorning his hand before he looks back up at you.

“i can stay, if you want me to”, he adds. “are you sure?”, you ask, unsure. he nods. “just another hour then”, you ask and he gives you a yes. deep down you were glad he was staying back. you didn’t think you could handle being alone right now, especially after what happened. 

there are a few more seconds of silence before wonwoo speaks, suggesting that you should eat dinner perhaps, considering you hadn’t really had a proper lunch either, being too anxious about your father’s trial. 

“i need a burger”, you tell after a few minutes of silence. “do you want me to place a delivery order for you?”, wonwoo asks. you shake your head. “no they don’t deliver, we’ll have to go there”, you tell and wonwoo looks unsure for a second. “it’s closeby, i’ll show you the way”, you tell, already standing up. 

you both get in the car and you show wonwoo the directions as he drives. you come by the place and park and you’re about to get out when wonwoo stops you. 

“wait, let me surf the area, see if anyone is there”, wonwoo tells, opening his door and stepping out. by anyone he meant the paparazzi of course. he walks ahead a bit, his eyes searching the area for anyone suspicious and that’s when you spot a girl sitting by the bench on the side looking at wonwoo. you knew what that look meant. wonwoo comes up by your window and you lower the glass, peeking out. you glance at the girl and then wonwoo, a laugh escaping your lips at your thoughts.

“what’s wrong?”, wonwoo asks, alert.

“that girl over there is totally checking you out”, you tell and wonwoo seems unfazed by this piece of information.

“i see three paparazzi, seems like they followed us. i suggest that you stay in the car and let me get you a takeaway”, wonwoo tells. 

“that girl is totally going to ask for your number”, you add and wonwoo blinks at you.

“she won’t”, he tells, dismissing your claims. 

“she totally will”, you counter and he raises a brow at you. 

“wanna make a bet”, you ask. “if you lose you have to buy me ice cream”, you tell. 

“what do you want me to get for you”, wonwoo asks, resting his hand on the car window. 

“get me the grilled burger with fries and extra sauce”, you tell, handing wonwoo your card. wonwoo takes it as you tell him not to forget the extra sauce, adding that he should get something for himself too.

after about ten minutes, wonwoo comes into sight and just as you predicted, the girl sitting on the bench stands up and engages in a conversation with wonwoo. however, it’s short lived and wonwoo is making his way towards your car and the dejected look on the girl’s face tells you everything you need to know. wonwoo gets in the driver’s seat with the bag of food, which smelled divine, tingling your senses already.

“she asked for you number didn’t she”, you tell, teasing him a little.

“she did not”, wonwoo tells and you fake gasp.

“she totally did, i read her lips”, you state and wonwoo shakes his head and gives in, amused.

“you owe me ice cream”, you state proudly, grinning at wonwoo.

“on what occasion?”, he asks.

“because you lost the bet”, you state.

“i remember making no such deal”, he tells, like he’s teasing you, as he hands you back your card.

“whatever, just know i’ll extort this ice cream out of you one day”, you tell as you reach for the bag food.

you eat your burger in joy, proud that wonwoo in fact did not forget the extra sauce. 

“did you not get anything?”, you ask, as you chew, looking at wonwoo.

“i will eat something at home, thank you for the concern”, he says. “don’t be like that!”, you tell, offering him a fry but he politely declines that too.

after you’ve devoured your burger and fries, you sigh content. “that was a good meal”, you tell, satisfied. “if only i could get a desert now”, you tell, implying to wonwoo.

“but i guess we should go, an hour is going to be up”, you tell. wonwoo steps out of the car and you’re about to ask him what he’s doing when he walks over to your side and opens the door for you.

“did you not want your ice cream?”, he asks and you look around before wonwoo tells you that the paps left. you smile and step out, happily walking up to the ice cream parlour that was right next to the burger joint. another hidden gem that served the best ice cream and sundaes.

you walk inside and sit in the corner booth all the way at the end. it gave you some privacy and was cozy. you don’t even glance at the menu before you’re telling wonwoo what you want. “a chocolate brownie fudge delight please”, you tell, grinning up at wonwoo who’s looking at you confused as he glances at the menu on the table, his eyes searching for the item you’ve just named.

“but that has two scoops of vanilla and two scoops of chocolate ice cream”, he tells. you only look at him, confused. “and a whole brownie with chocolate sauce and nuts”, he adds, like he’s questioning you.

“so?”, you ask.

“are you going to eat the whole thing?”, he asks and you scoff. 

“do not underestimate my ice cream eating abilities wonwoo”, you tell offended and just then the waitress comes, taking your order.

your sundae comes and you’re already smiling but when you take that first bite, it’s heaven and you sigh again, content with life right now. wonwoo looks at you like he’s still unsure that you can finish it. 

“do you want a bite? it’s really good”, you ask, pushing the bowl towards him. he politely declines again and you give him a look. 

“you know, you should live life more, because you only live once”, you tell, as you put another spoonful of ice cream in your mouth. “i mean of course if you’re allergic to nuts or lactose intolerant then that’s a totally different story, but otherwise if someone tells me that they don’t eat or don’t like ice cream, i wouldn’t trust them you know. because how can you not like ice cream? it’s like one of the best things to have been created. if you don’t like ice cream then there’s a serious problem”, you ramble on to wonwoo, who’s sitting opposite you, listening to you keenly.

“also you should really talk more, i feel like i’m talking to myself half the time because you never say anything or you're always finishing your sentences in two or five words”, you tell, oblivious to the fact there was chocolate sauce on the side of your lip. “we need to come to some sort of understanding because-”, you stop mid sentence as wonwoo’s hand reaches out to wipe the corner of your mouth gently. you stare at him for a couple of seconds before the weight of his actions hits you and you start coughing, flustered. wonwoo is quick to pour you a glass of water and offer it to you.

“are you okay?, he asks, looking worried and you nod. “y-yeah”, you respond, suddenly feeling shy. you eat another spoonful of the ice cream, looking down at the bowl as you chew, feeling your cheeks heat up and you glance back up at wonwoo, whose eyes are still trained on you, and he’s looking at you deeply like he’s trying to decipher what’s going on in your mind. the way he looked at you, god, it made you feel things.

“we’ll find my ring right”, you ask again as you take the last bite of your sundae. 

“i assure you that i will try my best to find it”, he replies. silence engulfs you both again.

“thank you for today”, you tell. “it was a nice distraction or change from the situation”, you tell, feeling grateful. you check the time on your phone and let out a small gasp at the time.

“oops, i guess i kept you for two hours instead of one”, you tell. “that’s not an issue”, he says. “if you ever need me, i’m always here”, he adds and somehow the way he says it feels soft, like this was his way of initiating friendship, telling you that he was indeed human and there was a sincerity in the way he said it. 

“thank you”, you say, giving him a genuine smile. wonwoo drops you off at home and then leaves, bidding you goodnight. you lay in bed, replaying the events of today in your head, thinking about wonwoo. even if he perhaps looked a bit cold and indifferent, he was actually really sweet, quiet, soft and gentle. you feel a blush creep up your cheeks as you think about what he did earlier and you turn over, burying your face into the pillow, letting out an annoyed groan as you kick your feet in the air.

you don’t sleep well that night, your mind wandering to your mother’s ring and all your thoughts filled with finding it. you would find it right? you wake up at an ungodly hour and still restless before falling asleep in the early hours of the morning. when you wake up, you sleepily walk out and see a cup of takeaway coffee from your favourite cafe waiting for you. you glance at wonwoo and then at the cup of coffee.

“i thought you might want some coffee”, he fills in. “oh god i did need some coffee, thank you wonwoo”, you tell, taking a sip, grateful for his sweet gesture. 

“when can we go find my ring? i really have to find it, i’ll never forgive myself otherwise”, you say, putting the coffee back on the counter as you go on a sleepy rant when wonwoo steps forward and holds out his hand. he opens it and lo and behold, your ring is there. your jaw drops and you look up at wonwoo. 

“no way. you found it, you really found it”, you tell as you take the ring, examining it like you were making sure it was really yours before slipping it back on your finger. 

you’re so happy and you jump at wonwoo, hugging him, “thank you thank you thank you”, you chant, feeling so relieved right now, like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. that’s when you realise what you were doing, making you step back abruptly, clearing your throat. “i mean, thank you”, you tell again, as you compose yourself. he gives you an appreciative nod and a small smile and you feel your stomach do a little somersault.

a week later the next trial is being held. you didn’t go for this one, but you got updates from jeonghan and of course the news. the headlines about your father were also ridiculous, but you were used to it at this point really. it’s like the whole world was against your father right now, everyone hated him and you of course. people were angry and demanding justice and jail time, saying he stole taxpayers' money and that he owned the people back, that he should rot in jail for the rest of his life. you shake your head and open your front door to go water your garden when you see another small box on your doorstep. you had been getting these all week. they were threats and normally you should have been scared. but you thought it was a harmless joke. you’d gotten countless threats on the internet so you just assumed it was someone having some fun. shrugging it off, you decided to not tell wonwoo about this. 

the weird boxes continue to come, but you realise that they got progressively worse each time, the last two even had death threats, and threats about breaking into your house, but yet again, you didn’t take it seriously. you woke up later today, having trusted wonwoo with your house code so he could enter and start his duty and not have to wake you up at 7am every day. 

when you walk to the living area, wonwoo is there. “good morning”, he greets and you yawn, waving at him. “you got a parcel”, he tells and you look at the counter, recognising the box. “shit not another one”, you mumble but wonwoo is sharp to hear it.

you open it, and this time it’s a bunch of your photos, cut up weirdly. but the worst part, your heads were cut off in all of them and there was a cryptic message too. wonwoo comes forward, sees the letter and is quick to look at you. he reaches out for the letter, taking it from your hand before you can hide it and his eyes scan over the contents of the letter, his jaw clenched.

“this isn't okay”, he says. “it probably isn’t a big deal wonwoo, i’ve been getting them all week”, you blurt out, before realising it and you can feel wonwoo’s gaze get more intense.

“what? and you didn’t think to tell me?”, he asks firmly. “i didn’t want to make big deal out it, it’s probably harmless, i get stuff like this all the time online”, you tell.

“but this isn’t online”, he says, emphasizing his words.”and it's always not a big deal until something actually happens yn, this is dangerous”, he tells, clearly upset about this, raising his voice slightly.

he makes you show him all the mail and he looks stressed to say the least. “yn you should have told me about this”, he says, stressed. “how am i supposed to protect you if i don’t know about things like this”, he adds and you can feel his eyes drill into you. 

“i’m sorry wonwoo”, you say, feeling bad.

“well, it is a big deal and action will be taken”, he says.  “they know your address yn, do a lot of people know your address, where you live?”, he asks, making you think and that’s when you realise. “oh”, you say. “i mean paps are around my house all the time”, you tell.

“but this isn’t a pap”, he tells. “it means this person has been following you around”, he says. “you mean like stalking?”, you ask. “yes exactly”, he tells. you gulp, suddenly realising the weight of the situation.

wonwoo looked stressed the entire day even though you told him not to worry and that you’d karate chop anyone who came near you. he didn’t laugh at your joke, obviously, just keeping a straight face. that night, wonwoo seems apprehensive to leave, worried about the threats you were getting, but you assured him that you were going to be okay, that you were going to lock all your doors and windows and sleep. 

the letters and threats keep coming, each getting more violent and wonwoo doesn’t like it one bit. “we need to put some cctvs around your house”, he tells you. you argue that you don’t really need it, but he insists, and to be honest, in the long run, it could be useful so you cave in and he informs you that he’ll make the arrangements.

that night, you’re lying in bed, busy watching a show on your laptop. it was late, but you couldn’t sleep so here you were, catching up on a tv show. but that’s when you hear a noise from outside. you shrug it off and continue watching when your phone pings.

i can see you

what the fuck. you get up and try to look out the window, not seeing anything, but that’s when you hear a noise and you see the shadow of someone on the wall. it moves swiftly and you take a step back, scared. your phone pings again.

looking for me?

you swear you feel a shiver run down your spine. you hear a rattle on your window outside and you gasp, anxious as you tiptoe your way there and you swear you hear a laugh, making you jump.

did i scare you?

another text reads and you gulp, backing up. fuck. 

you scramble to unlock your phone and you dial wonwoo, not knowing who else to call. he doesn’t pick up on the first go and you hear the heavy boots of someone outside before you hear your glass window break, a stone getting thrown inside. you dial wonwoo again and he picks up.

“wonwoo, fuck, there’s someone here, i think they’re trying to break in”, you tell in a panic and the phone gets disconnected as you yelp in pain as a small stone from outside that hits your hand, breaking the window furthur as glass shatters everywhere. you hand stings and you clutch your hand as you try to ground yourself. you start panicking, and getting anxious, tears brimming in your eyes. your phone slips from your hand, landing with a thud on the ground. you try to reach out for it but end up getting cut from the glass you couldn’t see in the dark. you suck in a breath as you feel the sharp cut burn and you move back as you sink to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest, hiding under the dining table. what if wonwoo didn’t come you thought as a tear escaped you. you had to get yourself together. but then another stone gets thrown shattering your already broken window. shit, what if someone came in right now. this wasn’t good. your thoughts only add fuel to your panic and you just try to huddle under the table, your hands shaking.

you don’t know how much time passed and you don’t even hear your front door open as wonwoo runs in. “yn?”, he calls out. your house was still dark and you can hear the crunch of glass as he steps on it with his boots, cursing under his breath.

he calls your phone which had fallen down, as it lights up and rings. “yn?”, he calls out again, an edge to his voice, seeing your phone that was discarded on the floor.  you raise your head, accidentally hitting it on the top and you wince. you hear wonwoo’s feet shuffle around and he bends down, finally locating you. he offers you his hand and helps you up, which you gladly take. he’s quick to assess your state, guiding you to your bedroom because of all the glass that’s scattered on the floor. he locates the switch and turns on the light and you wince a bit from the sudden intrusion of light. you sit down and wonwoo sits beside you. “are you okay? are you hurt?”, he asks, looking at you carefully before he spots the cut on your hand, bleeding badly. you don’t know how he found your first aid kid, probably his super senses. wonwoo’s sitting next to you as he aids to your cut. he gently holds your hand. “it’s going to burn a bit okay”, he says before he dabs the cut and you wince when the disinfectant comes in contact with your cut, the sting burning and you close your eyes. he wipes it a few more times before letting it dry a bit and covering it with a bandaid. he can tell you’re still pretty shaken up, in a state of shock because of how quiet you are and the way your eyes are still glossed over and teary.

“it’s okay, we caught the person”, he says, trying to help you ease up. “he was running away just as i came and i caught him. he’s with the police right now, but you’ll have to go to the station to answer some questions tomorrow”, he explains. 

“he’s gone?”, you ask and he nods and you feel yourself relax a little. you were okay. it was going to be okay.

“i thought you weren’t going to come”, you mumble out. “i would come running for you”, he says, making you look at him. his gaze is soft as he looks at you. “really?”, you ask, softly as you start to get lost in his gaze. “yes”, he says as he holds your gaze.

once everything is settled, he stands in front of you. it was 1am now. “i’ll see you tomorrow then”, he said and he turned around to leave when you grab the end of his shirt sleeve. he turns around, looking down to his hand that you held onto his sleeve before he looks up at you. “can you stay?”, you ask softly, peering up at him. “i’m a little scared”, you add softly, your hand still tugging on the end of his sleeve. “but if you have to go, i understand,” you tell, reluctantly letting go of his sleeve. “i’ll see you tomorrow anyway”, you tell, feeling like you don’t want to burden wonwoo anymore.

“it’s okay, i can stay”, he says. 

you tell wonwoo to sleep in the guest bedroom, practically dragging him there because he said he’d sleep on the couch. there was no way he was going to sleep on the couch, especially after the windows got broken there. wonwoo was a bit stubborn, but he finally gives in after you threaten to lock him in if he doesn’t listen to you.

you say a small goodnight before you retreat back into your own room. you fall asleep, only to be awoken as you suddenly feel hot. your head is heavy and you don’t feel good. you needed water. you stand up, feeling a little dizzy before you steady yourself and open your door, heading to the kitchen. you turn on the light and reach out to fetch glass from the counter but your grip falters and it falls to the ground, shattering. you curse under your breath. you’re about to bend down to clean it up but you hear wonwoo call out for you.

“yn?”, he asks as he steps into view, taking in the sight of you and the broken glass. he’s prompt to walk closer. “are you okay?”, he asks. “yeah, it just slipped”, you tell softly. his gaze on your lingers before he’s swift to pick you up and place you on the counter and you don’t even have the chance to protest about it. “let me clean this up okay”, he tells and is quick to remove all the glass and neatly sweep the area. your head is throbbing and you don’t feel too good, your head feeling heavy. 

“are you okay?”, wonwoo asks again, observing you keenly and he can tell that something is off about you, that you don’t look okay. “y-yeah”, you say softly, answering him. “you can tell me if something is bothering you yn, i’m here for you”, he adds, his eyes still trained on you and you feel utterly exposed when he looks at you like that, like he can tell exactly what you were thinking and feeling. you gulp.

“i-i don’t feel too good”, you finally admit.

he raises his hand to gently press the back of his hand to your forehead and you watch how his eyebrows furrow.

"yn you’re burning up”, wonwoo says, checking your temperature again. you hop down from the counter, not listening to wonwoo as his arm comes up to wrap around your waist to steady you as you stumble slightly.

“yn, you need to get back to bed”, he instructs, a worried edge to his voice. before you know it, he’s scooping you up in his arms and carrying you bridal style back to the bedroom and you don’t have it in your to say anything as he gently lays you down, adjusting your pillow for you. he’s quick to fetch you a glass of water. he asks you if you have any fever or headache medication and you shake your head lightly indicating that you didn’t have any. he tells you he’ll be back, that he’s just going to the pharmacy around the corner and you lay in bed, under the covers. the throbbing in your head only gets worse and you start to tear up. you fall asleep for a few minutes but awaken when you hear wonwoo’s softly call out to you. you turn around, sniffling and wonwoo can tell you were crying, his expression softening as he sits down next to you. 

he helps you take the medication for your fever, telling you that it is going to be okay, that he was right here. your hand brushes against his as you lay as you slowly fall asleep. you feel when his hand move and you reach out, grabbing onto his fingers. “stay, please”, you mumble, half asleep, holding onto his hand as you finally fall asleep. 

you wake up in the morning and feel a bit better, sitting up. you’re about to get up when wonwoo enters, spotting you awake. “how are you feeling?”, he asks. “a bit better”, you tell, still feeling a little tired.

“i’m sorry for keeping you up”, you add softly, looking at him. “you can take the day off today, i’m just gonna be at home”, you add. 

“it’s not an issue”, he fills in. “i got you some rice porridge, you should eat some and take the medication again”, wonwoo informs. he offers to bring it to you but you decline, saying you wanted to get out of bed anyway. he’s a little hesitant but walks with you to the dining table where he brings the bowl of porridge to you.

you nibble on a few bites of the food, wonwoo keenly watching you and you feel like you’re being stripped bare again by the way he looks at you. “sorry if i kept you awake”, you tell, feeling a little bad. 

“don’t apologise yn, i’m more than happy to be around and help”, he says.

after you eat a bit and take your medication, you sleep for a bit more, while wonwoo arranges for your windows to get fixed. you wake up after a few hours and you walk out. wonwoo is there, talking to one of the workers before he spots you in the corner of his eye. he’s dressed in rather casual clothes compared to his daily suits. today was just trousers with a shirt and blazer jacket. he still managed to look good. you were sure he would look good in everything. but the one thing you noticed was his hair, it was down, his bangs falling over his head. and somehow it softened his look, he looked so pretty. wonwoo makes his way towards you, greeting you. 

“sorry if all the noise woke you up”, he says as he takes in your appearance.

“it’s okay, i was up anyway", you say.

“they’re almost done”, he adds and you retreat back to your room, crashing in bed as you cuddle your pillow and you’re falling asleep again.

later that week, wonwoo was extra tight on security, he installed cctv cameras outside and the guy who was stalking you was put on a restraining order and fined. jeonghan had also messaged you about all the details about the charity business ball you had to attend in your fathers place. he said going to the ball would sort of put in a good word about your father while jeonghan was working on the trials, even though everything still looked uncertain as ever and the hate for your father just got worse.

the only thing you hated more than parties were parties that were held in the middle of nowhere. your dad always hosted this party at this venue in the middle of nowhere really, far from the city, saying the change of scenery added to the value and taste of the ball. you’d never gone to this charity business ball he’d hosted even though he’d invite you. you hated parties and all the people that came with it. it was tiresome and you’d much rather be at the comfort of your own home.

the charity ball was the news of the week, everyone was covering this and you’d bet some media people were going to be there being their nosy selves as usual. you end up meeting with your usual stylist - hwasa and she’s more than happy to curate a bunch of outfits for you to try on and see which one works for the event. wonwoo accompanies you, standing in the corner of the room while you try on the twelfth dress, already exhausted by the whole process.

but out of all the dresses you tried, you’d liked this one the best. it was a white satin dress with full sleeves and you loved it.  it fits you the best too. you step out, looking for hwasa but she’s not there, probably gone to get a few more dresses. you see wonwoo, his eyes catching yours and you see the way they change, widening a little before going back to his stoic expression. 

“how do i look?”, you ask wonwoo, looking at him expectantly. he clears his throat before speaking. “you look pretty”, he says and you give him a look. “just pretty? you have to give me more wonwoo. how do we like it from the other dresses?”, you ask, prodding him.

“it’s the best fit compared to the others and compliments you well”, he adds. “right! i thought so too!”, you tell, smiling. just then hwasa appears, smiling as she sees you. “this is the one”, she says as she looks at you and you do a little twirl for her. “yup, let's go with this one”, you tell.

you decide to get an outfit for wonwoo too, you wanted him to look good so you send him with hwasa to get him an outfit, even though he said that he was alright, you insisted.

after the day is over, you head home, tired. the charity ball was on the weekend and it was already wednesday. you were not looking forward to this at all but you were only doing it for your father’s sake. and after all, the company was going to come into your hands later so you might as well show them who you are and what you were capable of, right?

you were supposed to ideally leave on friday night to the venue and stay at a hotel nearby, but you were nervous and somehow at last minute, the hotel you booked cancelled on you, so you just decided to go on the same evening, except it would be a three hour drive. you’re a frantic mess that morning. from going to hwasa’s studio to get your makeup and hair done, and you go back home, leaving from there after changing. the only hitch was they didn’t have the shoes you chose in your size even though it was ordered but it didn’t come on time, so now you were stuck with shoes that were a tad bit tight, but you had to put up with it in the name of fashion. 

you’re all ready and you hear a knock on your door. “the car is ready, i’ll be waiting outside”, you hear wonwoo tell.

"i'll be there in a minute", you yell out as you quickly check your appearance in the mirror before you head out. it was going to be okay hopefully, but you couldn’t help the feeling of dread already pooling in your stomach. you give yourself a smile in the mirror before walking out, your shoes already starting to feel uncomfortable. you have your small handbag with your stuff and grab your house key, locking up before turning around and your jaw almost drops on the floor because holy shit.

wonwoo. he looked gorgeous. he was wearing a black turtleneck paired with a black blazer. his hair was styled but over his forehead and he was wearing glasses. god. you stand there for a whole 30 seconds just staring at wonwoo because wow, he looks so hot right now. you’re not even looking when you take the next step, completely misplacing where you put your foot, tripping down the step but you feel a pair of hands grab your waist, steadying you as wonwoo is quick to catch you. your hands are draped on wonwoo as you look up at him and suddenly he’s so close and he smells so good. you can smell his cologne and it just draws you in more. you’re staring at wonwoo, surprised and your eyes flicker down to his lips for a split second before glancing back up. 

“woah are you okay”, he asks, worried as he helps you get back on your feet, his hands still lingering around your waist. 

“y-yeah”, you mumble out, clearing your throat, and you’re acutely aware of his hands on your body again, making your cheeks heat up. your hand is still clutching wonwoo’s hand before you pull your hand away, gulping as you look down.

you sit behind because your dress needs space so it won’t crease and you glance at wonwoo occasionally as he drives, his side profile is so pretty. he looked pretty hot with glasses and you were suddenly wondering why he didn’t wear them more often. you shift your legs and feel a dull pinch in your feet as you look at your heels. you’d have ideally removed them in the car but it had the most confusing way to tie them up and they’d been tied nicely already. you didn’t want to ruin that so you let it be, sighing. but little did you know that wonwoo would also occasionally look back at you through the rearview mirror. he thought you looked gorgeous tonight.

the car ride is silent except for some soft music playing and your mind starts wandering to the event, trying to prepare yourself for what was to come.

you can tell you’re close when you see all the lights and the venue up front along with the bunch of cars. you take a deep breath, trying to ease your nervousness. your nerves start to hit you more as the car stands in line to walk to the red carpet. you can hear the people, the fans and see the countless media and news reporters who’ve come to cover the event. 

soon it’s your turn to walk the red carpet and get to the ball. you’re so nervous that your hands are almost shaking and you hate it. you hate the flashes and the crowd already. the car comes to a halt and wonwoo gets down, rushing to your side and opening the door for you. now that the door was open, all the noise was amplified. you take a breath before you see wonwoo offer his hand to you and you look up at him, the look of panic evident on your face as you get up, and wonwoo can feel the way your hand shakes in his, giving you a small but somewhat comforting squeeze as you put on a fake smile as you step out. you walk ahead, posing for a few pictures before you walk ahead, wonwoo walking behind you. 

you get in and you’re greeted by a bunch of people, some you know, some you don’t. most of them were your father’s business partners, people he worked with or were friends and relatives. the rest were just invited for courtesy. 

you’re offered a glass of champagne as you enter and you take it, and walk ahead. but as you walk you can feel everyone’s eyes on you, you can feel the weight of their gazes and they all talk in hushed voices as you walk past. you see your father’s friends and go up to them, greeting him.

“hello”, you say nicely and they greet you but are rather hostile. they make small remarks about your father and his situation, joking about not wanting to be seen with you as to protect their reputation. they’re laughing as you’re just standing there, trying not to lose it as you excuse yourself and walk away. your father really had shitty friends, you had to say that. you turn around and spot wonwoo to the side of the room at the back, along with all the other bodyguards as his eyes find yours. you give him a small smile and he nods, smiling ever so softly.

you walk around and talk around to a few people, some feigning sympathy and pity for your dad while others downright insult him. you countered these claims to every person, saying he didn’t do it but they all just laughed or shook their heads. finally, it was time for the ball and event to begin and you took a seat. as you were the host have to technically open the thing so here you were, walking up to the stage, your feet killing you already and your nerves ready to snap at any second. as you take the stage and see the sea of people in front of you, you feel the anxiety pool in your stomach and you gulp. you can feel everyone’s eyes on you, boring into you and suddenly you feel like you’d committed a thousand crimes and everyone was judging you.

“good evening ladies and gentlemen”, you say, giving the audience a small smile. 

“i am here tonight on behalf of my father, but i welcome you all and would like to thank you all for coming. the proceeds raised at this ball will be going to children and people in need. thank you for coming once again and have a great night”, you tell, people clapping and you walk off.

another host takes over from here and you walk down the stage, holding your dress up as you look down and see someone you really did not want to be seeing right now - your dad’s business partner's son, who was a #1 asshole.

he’d always been a snob and you almost roll your eyes at the sight of him. you see people writing cheques and putting them in the donation box and in the other room people were dancing to the live band who were playing music.

“hello yn, long time no see”, he says, flashing you his smile, which you didn’t reciprocate. “hi”, you say.

“nice party”, he adds. “thanks”, you say.

“i would like to offer you the first dance”, he asks, giving you a mischievous smile. “oh no that’s alright”, you say but he doesn’t listen.

“come on, don’t be a spoilsport”, he says, taking your hand and taking you along with him to the other side of the room. and soon, his hand is on your waist and he’s smirking at you as you both slowly move. you can see people looking at you but you try to ignore it.

“how’s your dad? i bet things are hard right now”, he says.

“yeah, but i’m sure the truth will be revealed at the end”, you say.

he laughs, making a few snide remarks about your father, which you try to ignore. but suddenly you feel the thread you’re trying to hold onto snap and suddenly the music is too loud, you don’t like the way he’s holding your hand too tight or the way his hand on your waist is going lower and you try to pull away but he doesn’t let you. 

“oh i’m sure the truth will be revealed soon”, he says and he leans in, whispering in your ear. “that your father is a crook”, he tells, smirking and he looks at you and you pull your hand away. you walk away, watching as people’s gaze turn towards you but you ignore it, the tears pooling in your eyes as you make your way to the restroom. you enter and lock yourself in one of the stalls, letting a few tears roll down. you hear the door open and a few girls.

“did you see her?”, one of them says.

“i can’t believe she had the audacity to come really”, another girl says.

“she’s so shameless. if my father was jailed i would like never to show my face to anyone.”, a girl adds and the others laugh.

“probably got spoiled from her father’s rotten money”, another girl tells, and they all snicker as they leave.

hearing this only makes you more upset and more tears well in your eyes as you cry silently. you didn’t want to be here anymore, you wanted to be alone, you wanted to leave. you wanted to leave now. panic rises in your chest again along with anger. your eyes well with tears as you walk down the basement where the cars were parked. thank god you had your spare car key with you and you locate your car, getting in and driving off. you grip the steering wheel hard, making your knuckles turn white as you drive. you don’t even know here you’re going, you just know you had to get out of here. you don’t know how long you’ve been driving for, when you realise you don’t even know where you are. you had gotten a couple of texts from wonwoo but you ignore it and soon wonwoo was calling you but you ignored it too. you didn’t have the energy to deal with him right now. you wanted to be alone. 

your car suddenly sputters and breaks down in the middle of the road in almost the middle of nowhere. the road was empty and you couldn’t see anyone or any other cars, people or buildings, fuck. you bury your head in your hands, crying out in frustration as you think about what to do. well you guess now was a good time to call wonwoo. 

wonwoo picks up your phone almost immediately. he’d seen you dancing but after that, during the entire party he didn’t see you. now that it was almost over and he still couldn’t locate you, he was obviously worried. he’d texted you and called you countless times but you weren’t responding, leading him to think something might have happened. he’s a frantic mess as he desperately tries to look for you, calling you, but you don’t respond. 

“yn? yn are you okay”, wonwoo’s voice is urgent on the other line of the phone.

“wonwoo”, you tell softly, nearly on the verge of tears again. 

“where are you? are you okay?”, he asks and that’s all it takes for you to burst into tears again, feeling like the whole weight of the world was on your shoulders.

“yn, please tell me where you are”, he pleads, concern laced in his voice.

“i don’t know”, you tell, your voice cracking, more tears rolling down your already tear stained cheek. 

“i got overwhelmed and i left, i took the car and i drove and i-i don’t know where i am”, you tell through broken sobs. “and now the car broke down, god knows where”, you add, sniffling. 

“send me your live location, i’ll track you”, he says. “stay in the car and lock the doors, i’m coming”, he assures. “can you stay on the line with me”, you ask. “of course”, he fills in.

wonwoo discovers you’ve driven a whole 45 minutes away and he assures you that he’s coming. but only ten minutes in your phone dies. “fucking phone”, you mumble as you look at the dark road. ten minutes pass and now you start getting scared. wonwoo was going to come right? blame your stupid anxiety but you thought of the worst scenarios that could happen, only psyching yourself more. the car feels more suffocating by the minute and your shoes feel like they're getting tighter. panic sets in stronger and you can’t take it anymore, can’t take the tightness in your shoes and you hastily undo the laces and pull off your shoes, wincing slightly when you feel it scrape against the back of your ankle. you close your eyes and try to take a few deep breaths.

after what feels like an eternity, you see a car pull up near you. you can’t make out anyone, the light almost blinding, but you see someone step out, making their way to your car. you open the door and step out, hearing the voice calling your name - wonwoo. relief immediately floods through your body as you run towards him, crashing into his arms as you start sobbing in his chest, your arms wrapped tightly around his body. he’s a little taken aback but his hands engulf you, pulling you in for a warm embrace.

“i thought you weren’t going to make it”, you mumble out, your arms wrapped around wonwoo as you start to cry. “of course i’d come yn, i gave you my word”, he says, his hand coming up to cradle your head.

“my phone died and i-i didn’t know what i was going to do”, you mumble out, looking up at wonwoo. he studies your face, his gaze softening as he takes in your state and your tear-stained cheeks. you’ve cried a lot today. you finally drop your hands from around wonwoo, letting him go. wonwoo looks down and sees you’re barefoot. “where are your shoes?”, he asks. “they’re in the car, it was getting uncomfortable”, you say. wonwoo is quick to grab your phone, keys and bag from your car and to your surprise, there’s a pair of sneakers. he puts them in front of you, bending down to help you put them on. “where did you get those?”, you ask, surprised. “i like to be prepared”, he informs, helping you wear the shoes before standing back up and your hand automatically grab his hand, intertwining your fingers in his, hoping to find some grounding through his touch.

wonwoo asks the cab to take you both to the nearest hotel, which was roughly ten minutes away from where you were according to the cab driver. you’re still holding wonwoo’s hand and he lets you as you try to calm down. you see a building up ahead and the cab driver tells you that this is the location. you both enter, walking up to the reception and the lady there looks up as you both up.

“we’d like two rooms please”, wonwoo asks. 

“unfortunately we only have one room left”, the lady says.

“we’ll take it”, you chirp in and wonwoo looks at you. 

“it’s a couple suite so i can only book couples in it”, she says, chewing on gum, looking bored to even be there. “are you a couple or”, she asks.

“no” “yes”, you say and you both look at each other.

“we are, ignore him, he’s a little shy”, you tell and she just looks between you both again. 

“alright, how would you like to pay, cash or card?” the lady asks. you dig through your purse and find your card, handing it over and you have your room key. wonwoo notices the way you’re walking slowly this time, watching your face contour in the slightest of winces with each step. “are you hurt?”, he asks, walking forward as he puts his hands on your shoulder, his eyes raking your body for any sign of discomfort or hurt. “no-my shoes-ouch-were the wrong fit”, you fill in. “i think i got a shoebite from them”, you say as you look up the flight of stairs you’d have to climb mentally bracing yourself when you feel wonwoo’s hands wrap around you and lifting you up bridal style. you let out a small surprised yelp, your arms wrapping around wonwoo’s neck for support. 

“woah w-what are you doing?”, you stutter out, looking at wonwoo, whose face is barely inches from yours. “your feet are already hurt, i don’t want you climbing up the stairs in that state”, he announces, carrying you as he walks up the stairs. you feel that familiar heat creep up your cheeks and that tiny feeling of butterflies as you look at wonwoo. he looked really pretty up close, his hair falling over his forehead as his glasses sat perfectly on the bridge of his nose. you reach your room and unlock the door, wonwoo still carrying you and he sets you down. you tell him a quiet thank you as your hands are quick to slide off the sneakers, feeling instant relief. but just has you had predicted, you got shoebites. both the sides of your pinky toes and heels were bruised and raw.

wonwoo fetches something from his wallet - bandaids. you’re surprised. “so you just carry around bandaids in your wallet??”, you ask, amused. “like i said, i have to be prepared”, he says. you try to take the bandaid from his hand, telling him that you’d put it on but he doesn’t let you as he bends down on one knee so now he’s matching your height. he gently places your foot on his knee has he puts the bandaid your heel. he repeats the same for your other heel before you put your leg down and wonwoo looks at you.

“i’m sorry”, you tell softly, gazing into his alluring eyes. “are you mad at me? it’s valid if you’re mad at me because i just ran off and completely ignored your calls and-”. you stop when you feel his hand gently squeeze yours, a small act of assurance. “you’re safe now and that’s all that matters”, he says, his voice deeply soothing. you smile, leaning in to peck his cheek. “thank you wonwoo”, you tell and he gives you a soft smile as he gets up. little did you know that wonwoo’s heart was racing from your little action as he tried to maintain his composure.

wonwoo wanders off to another room but comes back outside. “there’s only one bed”, he says, like it’s a fact. “so?”, you ask, getting up.

“i guess i’ll sleep on the couch over there”, he says, pointing towards the couch that looked like anyone would wake up with back pain if they slept on it. 

“wonwoo it’s fine, we’re just gonna sleep”, you tell. “you’re acting like sleeping in the same bed is a crime”, you say. “i would prefer not to interfere-” “sleep on the bed or i’ll take the couch”, you threaten.

but now there was a bigger problem than the bed, you didn’t have any change of clothes. thankfully the hotel sold some stuff as merchandise and t-shirts and pants were in the collection too. 

you go to the bathroom and change, finally stripping out of your dress and you hang it up to air, changing into the clothes you got.  your feet still hurt a bit when you walked because they’d been cramped up in those tiny shoes for too long. you walk out, your eyes widening as you catch wonwoo changing his shirt and you immediately turn around, your cheeks flushing. “sorry”, you mumble before turning around after a few seconds. but you did not miss the peek you got at his abs, oh my gosh. 

you mentally slap yourself and sit on the corner of the bed, a yawn taking over you as you glance at the time - 2am. you were tired, it had been a long and exhausting day. you settle in bed, wonwoo sitting on the single couch opposite you, his hair slightly ruffled now from him running his hands through it, and yet it somehow still looked fluffy. wonwoo told you he’d sleep in a bit and you close your eyes, dozing off immediately, sleep overtaking your tired body. but you wake up an hour later because of a loud crack and boom and the heavy downpour of rain. you stir awake and another lighting strikes, flashing into the room before a low rumble follows. you open your eyes and see wonwoo, who’s busy reading a book under the dim lights. you sit up slightly, another loud thunder hitting making you jump as you hit your head on the headboard, startling wonwoo as well. 

“yn? are you okay?”, he asks, putting the book down and coming up to you. another loud thunder rumbles, shaking the ground and you cover your eyes, closing your eyes. you hated thunderstorms. “what’s wrong?”, wonwoo asks, sitting down beside you on the other side of the bed. “n-nothing i just don’t like loud noises and thunder”, you meekly say, still sleepy from the sudden intrusion. “it’s dumb i-”, you stop when another earth rumbling thunder hits, making you jump again. “can i hold your hand? it helps me calm down”, you ask softly, a little embarrassed, but wonwoo offers you his hand. it feels warm, soft and safe as you hold it and wonwoo makes himself a bit more comfortable as he sits next to you. 

“what were you reading? '', you ask, letting wonwoo’s hand go after two minutes and now that you are a bit more awake, you take in wonwoo’s look. even in the dark, you could make out his hair was now messily dishevelled which only added to the charm and the glasses god, he looked so hot. you weren’t even listening to what he was saying as your hand fiddles with your ring on your finger. wonwoo looks at you and tilts his head to the side ever so slightly.  

“what are you thinking about?”, he asks, his voice deep.

“n-nothing”, you fill in, feeling embarrassed about your thoughts. “how do you know i’m thinking about something”, you ask, trying to get the upper hand on wonwoo, only for it to backfire on you.

“you’re fiddling with your ring, and you only do that when you’re thinking about something or something is bothering you”, he says. well damn, he was a keen observer. 

“oh”, is all you say as you look at your ring, biting your lip before you look back up at him.

“nothing, it’s really stupid”, you tell but wonwoo looks like he wasn’t going to budge until you gave him an answer.

“i’m sure it’s not stupid”, he adds, trying to reassure you, waiting expectantly. fuck it you think.

“i was just thinking about um”, you start getting nervous, your cheeks heating up and you avoid his gaze, stuttering out the next words. “i was thinking about how-um-how good you look with glasses. it really brings out your features you know and it makes you look really hot. you should wear them more often”, you confess, whispering the last bit, the familiar heat creeping up your cheeks. he doesn’t say anything, but you swear you can see the faint smirk as his lips curve up. you look away, his gaze on you suddenly too intense for you to bear. 

“okay your turn, what are you thinking about”, you ask in a hurry, hoping it would turn the attention away from you.

“do you really want to know?”, he asks slowly and you nod your head, looking at him. “you don’t talk much do you, so i’m guessing there must be a lot on your mind”, you prompt. he’s silent for a few seconds before he speaks.

“i’m thinking about what a wonderful person you are”, he says, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “i’m thinking about how you are only so caring and attentive towards others but yourself. i’m thinking about how the whole world seems to have a wrong impression of you, and that you don’t deserve any of the shitty things happening to you right now. i’m thinking about when it will all end and when you’ll be able to be happy”, he says, his words completely catching you off guard. each of his thoughts strike a chord in you and you almost tear up. out of everyone, it seemed like only wonwoo was on your side. 

“wonwoo”, you say softly, at a loss for words. you don’t even know when you leaned towards wonwoo but your eyes flicker down to his lips for a split second before you look back up. “i’m thinking about how gorgeous you looked tonight and that if i had the chance i would have asked you for a dance earlier tonight if not given the current circumstances”, he adds, his gaze never leaving yours as he stares into you deeply, fondly as he opens up to you.

“and as of this moment, i’m thinking about how it would be to kiss you”, he fills in and you blink up at him, getting nervous at his confession. you answer him by leaning in and softly pecking his lips, lingering for a few seconds before you pull away but still close enough that has your heart beating rapidly. 

wonwoo leans in, kissing you, properly this time. his hand gently cups your cheek as he moves his lips against yours and you swear you feel butterflies erupt in your stomach at that moment. you kiss him back and you move your head, accidentally knocking his glasses, making you both pull away. “oops sorry”, you say, a little breathless as your hands reach out to take off his glasses and he is quick to put them on the side table before turning his attention back to you. you look up at him. “what are you thinking about now?”, you ask, your lips centimetres away from his, and you can feel your heart racing again, the echoes of the beats loud in your chest.

“i’m thinking about how i want to kiss you again”, he says, closing the gap between you both as he captures your lips in his this time you sigh into the kiss as wonwoo cups your cheek, deepening the kiss as his arm encircles your waist, pulling you closer to him. wonwoo quite literally knocks the breath out of you as he pulls away slowly, watching your chest rise and fall. you kiss him again, getting giddy at the feeling of his lips on yours as he kisses you breathlessly again, softly pushing you down on the bed as your head rests on the pillow, wonwoo’s body hovers over yours, careful not to put his weight on you as he kisses you sweetly, the drumming of the rain outside as your soundtrack.

you wake up, wonwoo’s arms around your waist as you blink your eyes open. the sun was filtering through the white curtains, rays of sunshine adorning the floor and wall. wonwoo is still fast asleep beside you and you take this chance to look at him, really look at him. his hair is messy but cutely dishevelled, his eyes closed as soft breaths leave him as he sleeps, peaceful. he’s so pretty you think to yourself as you smile softly to yourself. you remember the events of last night, the kiss, and suddenly feel yourself getting very very shy as you bite your lips to contain the silly smile that aims to erupt across your face. you continue to admire wonwoo, his big warm hands still engulfing you as you shift slightly to check the time. when you turn back, wonwoo softly stirs awake, his pretty eyes fluttering open as he awakens. 

“hi”, you say softly.

“hi”, he says, his morning voice deeply attractive.

you both look at each other, not saying anything but just taking in each other’s presence. “did you sleep okay?”, he asks, searching your face and you shake your head, mumbling something about how you’re still tired.

his hand comes up to hold yours as he gently lifts it to his lips, giving it a soft kiss, his eyes never leaving yours, making you laugh softly. god, he was so dreamy. 

“what do you want to do today?”, he asks.

“sleep, i just wanna sleep”, you groan, burying your face into the pillow. wonwoo’s hand wraps around your waist as he pulls you closer towards him. “then sleep”, he says, placing a soft kiss to your cheek, making you smile. you close your eyes and soon drift off to sleep, wonwoo’s embrace making you feel safe and comfortable. and soon, wonwoo was also sleeping with you, both of you sleeping soundly in each other’s embrace.

it’s only around lunchtime that you both stir awake again and mostly because someone was knocking on your door, leading you to both wake up to the sudden noise. 

“we have to checkout by 5pm or pay to stay another night”, he tells you. “we should leave, but the car!”, you tell, sitting up in bed.

“i’ll get it fixed, i’ve arranged for it, " he says. “i’ll go get our clothes from the hotel’s drycleaning," he says. you’d have to wear the same dress again but you didn’t mind. 

wonwoo is quick to have a shower and he's changed into his suit from yesterday, that’s all clean and freshly pressed for the day minus the blazer as he tells you he’ll bring the car. you ask him if you can come along but he says it’s best to stay back. you feel a bit bummed about it but stay back nonetheless. all your luggage was in the car, in a rush you and wonwoo had forgotten it, but could change when he was back. wonwoo is finally back and you manage to get your luggage, and you change into something comfortable, ready to leave for home.

you check out and head towards the car as wonwoo loads in your luggage before spotting you, opening the car door for you. you sit upfront this time and the journey home begins. you end up talking a bit but get hungry since you really haven’t eaten anything yet. wonwoo is quick to stop by a nearby restaurant once you guys enter the city and you gladly inhale some food.

it’s been two weeks since you and wonwoo kissed and every time you thought about it, it made you all shy. wonwoo was his usual self, back in business mode but his touches now lingered and he’d talk to you sweetly, opening up to you more, and maybe somehow a little more protective of you.

you were now in jeonghan’s office, upset and mostly scared of the way your father’s trial was going. it seemed like things were going in favour of the prosecution and not your father.

“what’s going wrong”, you ask jeonghan, who only sighs at your question. “i’m really trying my best here yn”, jeonghan says, looking at you. “i really don’t know where the prosecution is getting all this new evidence from”, he says. “i’m doing my best yn but at this rate maybe it’s better for your father to serve the jail time”, he says, making you immediately protest at the thought. 

“what? why should he go to jail for something he didn’t even do?”, you almost yell out.

“given the circumstances, serving ten years looks the best for him. i can even try to reduce it to seven along with community service and probation”, he adds and you click your tongue, upset at the whole idea and proposition. 

he takes a few moments to think before speaking to you again. "his company has come to a standstill, someone needs to step up in the meantime and run things around there”, he starts off, being careful with his words.

“but you know what would help? if i was maybe given the power of attorney. it would help big time in trying to smooth over the company and business until things with your father are settled”, he says, giving you an assuring smile. 

“you should ask my father about that”, you say. “oh i know but maybe you could also ask him, it would be helpful”, he asks.

“i’ll see”, you say. “just make sure my father gets out of this soon”, you ask jeonghan. he gives you a smile, which for some reason runs a shiver down your spine but you shake it off, getting up. 

wonwoo drops you home that night after your meeting with jeonghan and walks you back inside. he can tell you’re stressed and anxious about your father’s situation as both of you linger at the doorstep. he reaches out for your hand, as he looks at you, his thumb caressing your hand in an attempt to comfort and soothe you. after a few seconds he takes a few steps forward, bringing his arms around you as he engulfs you in a much needed hug. you sigh in his arms as you close your eyes, letting yourself sink his hold.

“i’m going to be here with you every step of the way”, he reassures. 

“thank you wonwoo”, you respond as you pull away and look at him.

“it’s going to be okay”, he says as he looks at you. 

“i hope so”, you say, almost defeated after what jeonghan told you about earlier. 

he looks at you with the most loving eyes before he leans in and kisses you, his hand coming up to cup your cheek as he softly moves his lips against yours as he kisses you sweetly.

“goodnight”, he says softly, sweetly. “goodnight”, you whisper back, stealing another kiss from wonwoo before you retreat back inside.

the next week when wonwoo comes to your house in the morning there’s something different about him, in his demeanour and the way he acts. he strictly keeps to himself, not indulging in small talk with you at all, and brushing your hand off when you try to hold his hand. you felt hurt but decided to brush it off. maybe he had a reason for it, but the thought that he’d be so blunt about it hurt. you wanted to ask him but you didn’t. you decide to go see your father today at the detention centre he was being kept at. you had gotten used to wonwoo’s silence but today it felt odd, suffocating almost, but you don’t say anything, suddenly feeling like a burden to wonwoo. 

you’re waiting for your father as you sit on the other end of the room, a plastic divider dividing you and him. you stand up as soon as he walks in and he gives you a small smile. he looks tired. 

“are you okay?”, you ask, sitting down. “i can manage," he says. 

“so things aren’t going in your favour”, you say, looking at your father. “i am aware”, he says.

“what about the company? and your business? what’s going to happen to that?”, you ask.

“yn, you know i always intended for you to take over the company at some point”, he says. “but maybe you’ll have to take over earlier than i thought”, he says. 

“what do you mean?”, you prompt.

“i mean that you will have to take over”, he says. “it is going to be hard, there are going to be obstacles and people are going to try and bring you down but i have faith and trust in you”, he says. 

“what if i’m not ready”, you say.

“i’ll always be here and you know what they say, fake it till you make it”, your father tells, making you chuckle as you hold back your tears.

“jeonghan was asking about you giving him the power of attorney”, you say as you see your father's gaze change. 

“no, if i were to give anyone the power of attorney right now, it should be you”, he says.

“but don’t you trust jeonghan? i’m sure he’ll be able to help run things until i’m ready to take over”, you say.

“i wouldn’t trust anyone right now”, your father says. “i would rather have my own child act on my behalf than jeonghan”, he says. “a power of attorney is a powerful thing and i would trust you with it more than jeonghan”, he says and you nod as you take in his words.

that evening wonwoo leaves again, and he was still cold towards you. you decided to bring it up to him tomorrow because it was starting to make you feel weird, uneasy and bad. the next day, your doorbell rings a few times. you wonder why wonwoo hasn’t bothered just entering your house like he always has. was this a new thing now? you really had to talk this out with him. 

“wonwoo what are-”, you start but stop because the person in front of you wasn’t wonwoo. “who are you?”, you ask. “i’m your new bodyguard from today”, he says. you look him up and down because he didn’t look very bodyguard material. 

“what happened to wonwoo?”, you ask, taken aback by this. he just shrugs. “i don't know, jeonghan sent me so you should talk to him”, he says before stepping in, uninvited if you had to say. 

you go to your room to fetch your phone and come back to see the guy just sitting on your couch, scrolling through his phone, wow. talk about being professional. 

you glare at him as you dial jeonghan. he picks up after a few rings. 

“what happened to wonwoo?”, you ask, not wasting a second.

“no hi?”, he says, sensing the urgency in your voice.

“where’s wonwoo”, you ask again.

“wonwoo quit”, jeonghan says like it was no big deal.

“what do you mean he quit?”, you ask in shock. “he quit yn, he told me a few days back. he said he didn’t want to work for you anymore”, he adds, making your heart drop.

“but why, there must have been a reason right?”, you ask jeonghan.

“i think it’s for the best yn, and besides, i told you not to get too close to him”, jeonghan says and you didn’t like the tone of his voice.

after that you call wonwoo but he doesn’t pick up but you keep calling. he couldn’t just quit on you like that. there must have been a reason. and you think back to yesterday and how he was acting so cold towards you for the last few days. you tear up at the thought. why? why would he do that? did he really just use you?

you watch as your new bodyguard sits on your couch lazily, not even bothered about trying to do his job right. you were pretty sure that if you went out the door right now, this guy wouldn’t even notice. you roll your eyes at the thought and sigh.

“i’m going to see jeonghan”, you tell. “sure, i guess i should drive you right, just let me finish this level, i’ve almost cracked it”, he says. he was not being serious right now.

after five minutes you get his attention. “excuse me?? can we go or shall i go myself?”, you ask. “i’m coming jeez, you’re so stuck up”, he says. 

as soon as you burst into jeonghan’s office, he looks at you with a glint in his eyes. 

“what do i owe this pleasure to”, he says.

“you could have at least hired a competent replacement, this new guy sucks actually, he doesn’t even have basic manners”, you tell jeonghan. 

“he was the best replacement i could find”, jeonghan tells nonchalantly and you scoff.

“best replacement? you’ve got to be kidding me right now. wonwoo was the best and he was actually qualified. this guy looks like someone you just picked off the street”, you argue.

jeonghan doesn’t say anything as he filters through the stack of papers on his desk, finding what he was looking for before he looks back up at you. “did you ask your father about the power of attorney thing?”, he asks, changing the topic.

���i did and he wasn’t too keen on it. he said he’d rather give me the power of attorney power than you”, you say but jeonghan doesn’t seem fazed at all. 

“i expected that, so why don’t we start processing the papers to give you power of attorney. and then you can transfer it to me right? i can hold fort until you’re ready”, he says, more like he’d had it all planned out rather than asking you.

“i’ll process the papers to make you power of attorney for now”, he says. “okay”, you say. “now if you’ll excuse me, i have a lot of work of work to do”, he tells. 

“what did wonwoo tell you when he quit”, you quickly ask. 

“yn we are not going there”

“just tell me, please”

“he said he didn’t want to work for you anymore”, jeonghan says.

“that’s all he said?”, you ask.

“yes”, and suddenly all your hopes sink.

you get back home and in the following days you just stay at home. you were somehow on the news these days, and for the dumbest reason really, it was like people were trying to nitpick you apart and post things about you. you called wonwoo again and texted him a bunch of times but there was not one single response. you couldn’t believe that wonwoo would do something like that, after all you guys shared. it broke your heart really.

and to say your new bodyguard was incompetent was an understatement. the other day he couldn’t even protect you from being mobbed or spot the paparazzi that you caught in a blink of an eye. you wanted wonwoo, you missed him.

you go to jeonghan’s office and go to the detention centre again to get the power of attorney transferred to you because your dad also had to be present. 

your dad carefully reads the document, making sure everything was right, even the fine print that people tend to ignore before deeming it legal and everything was good. he signs it and puts his stamp on it and so do you.

“use this power wisely yn, i’m trusting you”, he says and you nod.

when you reach home, you’re just waiting for the new guy to go. 

“give me your phone”, the new guy says, coming up to you and he doesn’t even wait for you to answer before he’s plucking your phone out of your hand. 

“what the hell?”, you ask, trying to take your phone back but he doesn’t let you.

“no more phone for you for the time being, jeonghan’s orders, with all these headlines about you going around he says it’s for the best”, he says.

“no give me my phone back”, you demand but he grabs your hand, pushing you towards your room, slamming the door shut and you hear the lock engage. you try to open the door but it doesn’t.

“hey open this door right now”, you tell, beating your hand on the door. “that’s not going to change anything”, he says, chucking as you hear his footsteps around the hallway.

“she’s locked up”, he says, talking to someone on the phone.

“let me out”, you yell again, banging your fist on the door again. 

“shut it”, he says, kicking the door, only prompting you to bang your fist on the door harder. 

but after no avail you stop, sinking to the ground, tears already welling in your eyes. your life just really kept getting shitty and shittier didn’t it. 

you open your eyes as you hear the key rattle on the other side, the doorknob rattling and the door opening. you’re quick to stand up.

“what the fuck is wrong with you”, you yell but the new guy doesn’t seem fazed at all. “he wants to see you”, he tells, grabbing your hand but you pull it out of his grip. “move”, he demands and you reluctantly move towards the hall and your eyes go wide at who you see - jeonghan. 

“did you do this?”, you ask, in shock.

“i have to get things done don’t i yn”, he says, giving you that creepy smile again. “and now you’re going to be a good girl and sign these papers”. he says, holding out in front of you.

“what is that”, you ask. “the transfer of power of attorney from you to me”, he says. 

“there’s no way in hell i’m doing that after what you just fucking did”, you spit out, getting upset.

“getting feisty now are we? let’s not forget that your father’s fate lies in my hands and if you do not sign this paper right now, i will send your father to rot in jail for the rest of his life”, he says, threatening you. 

“what-you can’t-you wouldn’t”, you say.

“oh believe me yn, i would. so choose. your father goes to jail or you sign these papers and save his life”, he demands. 

“why are you doing this”, you ask bitterly.

“because your father is an idiot and this is the one time i’ve outsmarted him”, jeonghan tells, smug. 

“what are you talking about? if you want money give me a number, i’ll give it to you, just stop all this”, you plead.

“oh i’ll get my money yn, but i need to see your father crumble down, that’s what he deserves”, jeonghan says.

 he thrusts the papers towards your face. “sign it”, he demands. 

“over your dead body, i’m not signing shit jeonghan”, you spit back. 

“i don’t think right now is the time to be rebellious yn”, he says, pursing his lips in a thin line.

“oh i’ve always been rebellious jeonghan and i’m not going to let you get away with this”, you tell. 

“i doubt that”, he tells, signalling for the bodyguard as he grabs your arm and drags you to your room, pushing you inside and locking the door again. 

“think again yn, you’re only getting out of here when these documents are signed and by then it’ll be too late to do anything”, jeonghan says from the other side of the door.

“fuck you jeonghan, you just wait, i’m gonna get you”, you spit out.

you hear him say something only catching the last words being ‘don’t let her out’ .

what the fuck was happening to your life. fuck. you bang your fist on the door, letting out your frustration, sinking to your knees as you try to hold it in, keep it together but you can't. you bang the door a couple more times as tears roll down your cheeks. and yet, the only person you could think of in this situation was wonwoo. only he could help you now, he would know what to do. but you had no means to contact him after your phone was taken away and you were now locked in the room.

you bury your head in your knees, trying to breathe and think. think yn and that’s when you get an idea - your laptop. it was synced to your phone contacts. you get up, rushing to grab your laptop, frantically opening it and you open the messages app and find wonwoo. all your previous texts to him are still unread. no you needed to find him, texting him wasn’t going to work right now. but the question was how? and that’s when you remember the thing jeonghan had sent you before , wonwoo’s resume, which had his address, bingo. 

you open your chat logs with jeonghan, scrolling up till the part when jeonghan had sent you wonwoo’s resume and just as you guessed, his address was on it. you grab a pen and jot down the address on a scrap piece of paper. but how were you going to get there? you looked up and at the window behind your desk. you get up, pushing your table to the side slowly trying not to make any loud noises, huffing and puffing. 

after you manage to push the table aside enough, you slide the window open and poke your head out, looking at the distance but the jump wasn’t too bad. you slowly swing your legs over, taking a breath before reaching down with your feet and them jumping. the only protection you had against the bare ground was your socks right now. you close the window behind you and look left and right. you slowly and quietly walk towards the back gate and open it slowly, making a quick escape and you jog down the road. you look at the address that’s now crumpled in your hand and it wasn’t too far. you didn’t have cash or anything on your to take the bus so walking you were.

fifteen minutes in and you're getting tired and you put on the hood of your hoodie, hoping no one would recognise you but continue speed walking to the address in your hand. wonwoo would know what to do. wonwoo could help you. wonwoo. you start picking up your speed as you walk without even realising and soon you're running, your legs are working on their own, desperate for an escape and to find wonwoo. after sprinting and jogging for a bit you finally come up to the address, his apartment and you bend down, resting your hands on your knees as you try to catch your breath.

you’re about to walk in when security stops you. “i’m here to see wonwoo, he lives here right”, you ask between breaths. 

“mr. jeon? are you his guest?”, the security asks.

“yes, yes, please which building does he live in”, you ask, pulling your hood down in an aim to not let the man recognise you.

“wouldn’t you know that if you know him?”

“please, it’s urgent”, you ask. “he knows me i swear”, you tell. “it's an emergency just, please tell me”, you plead.

the man finally tells you the information and you sprint to the building and run up the stairs, not bothering to wait for the elevator to come. you open the staircase door, entering the main floor, your chest heaving from the effort of running up the stairs. you were lucky you didn’t fall on your face at the pace you were going at. you locate his door number and you stand in front of it and suddenly you’re scared. what if he didn’t open the door? what if he wasn’t here? you can hear your heart pounding in your chest as you raise your hand to ring his doorbell. a few moments pass and nothing and you ring it again and again. shit was he not home?

you take a step back, your head down, suddenly feeling defeated when you hear the doorknob rattle and the door opens. you look up and wonwoo is in front of you. he was really here. you found him.

“yn?”, he asks, as he adjusts the glasses on his face as if he couldn't believe it was you at his doorstep. you get hit with a wave of emotions at that minute and wonwoo is asking you something but you’re not listening as your vision gets blurry and all you can do in that moment in crash into wonwoo’s arms as you start to sob in his chest, the impact making wonwoo stumble before he held onto you. you weren’t crying because you were upset, you were crying because you felt relief - relief that you finally found wonwoo.

you pull away from him and look up and he finally sees the state you’re in, bare feet and he’s quick to spot the bruises on your knuckles and hands from banging on the door as you wipe your tears. wonwoo looks you up and down as he takes both your hands in, his expression suddenly dark as he looks at you. 

“who did this to you”, he asks sternly as another tear escapes you.

“j-jeonghan”, you stutter out through a sob. “they’re working together and t-they locked me in the room”, you tell and you can see the rage burning behind wonwoo’s eyes.

“jeonghan did this?”, he asks, anger seething in his eyes and you nod.

“he’s-he’s been behind all this the whole time, the whole reason my father is in jail a-and he was threatening me”, you tell in a rush, not making a coherent sentence.

wonwoo pulls you in a hug, holding you tight. “where were you, why did you leave?”, you demand through a broken sob as the door behind you closes. “i missed you”, you tell softly, your voice cracking as a few more sobs escape you.

“fuck, i missed you too”, he says as he hugs you tighter. you feel something soft rub around your legs and look down, seeing wonwoo’s cat near your feet. “your cat”, you say as you sniffle.

you’re on the couch now, wonwoo giving you new socks and slippers to wear as freshen up, washing your face and feet. wonwoo’s cat is inquisitive of you, sitting on the floor in front of you as she looks at you. “hi oreo”, you say and she meows, making you smile. 

wonwoo busies himself in the kitchen as he makes you some chamomile tea to help you calm down and sets the steaming mug in front of you. wonwoo also sets down an envelope next to the mug, signalling for you to open it. you look at him before your hand reaches out for the envelope and you open it, the contents inside making you gasp.

“what’s this?”, you ask, as you sift through the pile of photos, each one making you upset and even more confused. they were pictures of you and wonwoo at the hotel that night after the event, but the person who took them captured you wonwoo sharing a kiss and you sleeping in his wonwoo’s arms. you feel a surge of rage in your body as you look at this.

“this is what jeonghan gave me and he tried to blackmail me with this”, wonwoo says, breaking the silence. “he threatened me with these, saying if i didn’t quit that he would give these photos to the press. i don’t know what he was planning but i did what he said because i didn’t want you getting hurt”, he says. “the bastard probably had someone tail us and take this”, he adds.

“i know it was sudden but there was nothing i could do, he was strict on not making any sort of contact with you afterwards. he said he was watching me and that otherwise these pictures would get leaked in a second if i contacted you and i didn’t want that. i don’t know what sort of twisted sick game he’s playing but i didn’t want you waking up one day and seeing these pictures in the headlines. you’re already going through hell right now and this was the least i could do to protect your reputation, to protect you”, he says, his hand finding yours as he gives it a small squeeze.

‘i’m going to kill jeonghan i swear to god”, you mutter under your breath. 

“we have to help my father, we have to do something, you’ll help me right?”, you ask, pleading almost.

“of course yn. i was dying everyday i couldn't see you or tell you what really happened, i was just praying you wouldn’t hate me for it”, he tells.

after things between you both get cleared up, you promptly end up falling asleep, curled up in his arms on the couch. when you were with wonwoo you felt safe, secure, like the world was going to be okay, that you were going to be okay. wonwoo gently carries you to his bed, tucking you in as he slips inside the sheets beside you, watching you sleep and he vowed to himself - that no matter what, he was going to protect you.

you stir awake in the morning in wonwoo’s soft sheets, turning around and seeing the other side of the bed empty. you walk outside, seeing wonwoo busy in the kitchen as he sets a pot on the table. he spots you.

“good morning”, he says and you give him a small smile. “morning”, you tell as you move closer to wonwoo, seeing the small breakfast spread laid out on the table. you hear a meow, followed by another and another. 

“someone is hungry”, you joke as you look at oreo waiting for wonwoo to give her food. 

“she’s usually patient, aren’t you oreo”, wonwoo says and oreo meows in agreement and protest. you chuckle, this side of wonwoo was adorable.

you both sit down to eat and you’re grateful for the meal, later insisting that you help wonwoo clean up and wash the dishes, even though he insists you don’t need to but your stubbornness wins and he leans on the side of the counter as he watches you wash the dishes, looking defeated.

just then there’s a knock on the door. wonwoo stands alert and checks who it is. 

“it’s jeonghan” wonwoo says softly.

“shit, what do we do?”

“go to my room, close the door and stay there till i tell you to come out”, wonwoo instructs and you’re quick to go to his room, closing the door.

wonwoo opens his front door and jeonghan stands there looking irritated.

“what is it?”, wonwoo asks, giving jeonghan a cold stare.

“where’s yn?”, he asks, running a hand through his hair, frustrated.

“how should i know”, wonwoo says.

“listen wonwoo, lying right now is not going to help”

“i don’t know where yn is”, wonwoo repeated.

“if she contacts you, you tell me right away, got it”, jeonghan says as he points a finger at wonwoo.

“did something happen?”, wonwoo asks, trying to assess the situation.

“oh nothing, yn just seems to have gone off without informing anyone, i was just worried”, he tells, giving wonwoo a fake smile before leaving.

you hear the door close, wonwoo telling you that jeonghan was gone. 

“he’s looking for you alright. i think it’s better you don’t go out for the time being. you can stay with me till then and we can come up with a plan together okay”, he says, one hand caressing your cheek. you nod. 

later that day, wonwoo says he’ll hire a new lawyer for your father and appeal to the court and also indict jeonghan. but the only problem was that how were you going to prove everything that jeonghan was doing? if you only had that evidence it would also help in proving your father innocent. 

“i could hire someone to raid his house maybe”, wonwoo says.

“what, you can do that?”you asked him, shocked but liking the idea.

“i mean he’s not playing fair either is he? let’s mess with him a little”, wonwoo says.

“but how will you find someone to do that?”, you ask curiously.

“i have connections sweetheart”, he tells. “i’m an impressive man you know”, he adds and you smile. “i'm sure you are”.

over the next few days, things move quickly. wonwoo makes the required arrangements and the meeting with the new lawyer is online because jeonghan likely putting someone to stakeout and watch wonwoo’s place in case you showed up. wonwoo is smart to keep the curtains drawn at all times so no one could peek inside either. the first priority was indicting jeonghan which would make him suspend him from working, and your father’s case would have more time and more time right now was good. 

the next week jeonghan is indicted, and a legal notice is sent to his office courtesy of the impressive new lawyer that wonwoo hired. with the indictment jeonghan could not go anywhere, he couldn’t flee or travel and he’d be called for a formal court hearing on wednesday. as you got ready on wednesday morning to go to the court hearing because you were the one indicting jeonghan so you had to be there. you were nervous, standing in front of the mirror in wonwoo’s room. wonwoo was accompanying you too of course, he wasn’t going to let you go out there alone when you were going to go fight. you were going to show the world who you really were.

you reach the courthouse where the hearing will take place and it seems like everything is already on the news, the hoard of journalists and news reporters already crowding the place. you walk inside with wonwoo and head to the courtroom. as soon as you enter you see jeonghan, who clenches his jaw as he makes his way towards you, clearly upset and shocked.

“yn what the hell is all this”, jeonghan nearly shouts, his hand reaching out to grab yours but wonwoo grabs his hand instead, stopping him. 

“watch it jeonghan”, wonwoo warns as jeonghan pulls his arm out from wonwoo’s grip.

“you’re not going to get away with all this”, you tell.

the hearing starts and you’re sitting with wonwoo’s lawyer and beside you on the other side is jeonghan and his lawyer.

“miss yn has made an indictment to mr. yoon over criminal activity and fraud”, the judge says, looking at you.

“yes your honour”, your lawyer fills in.

“what is the accused stand on this matter?”, the judge asks.

“my client mr.yoon is not guilty your honour”, jeonghan’s lawyer says and you scoff, glaring at him.

“does the plaintiff have evidence to support these claims?”, the judge asks.

“not yet but we are working on it”, your lawyer explains.

“i request the charges against my client to be dropped because they are completely baseless and defamatory”, jeonghan’s lawyer demands.

“given the nature of the accusations and that mr.yoon is also a well known person in his respective industry, i will give the plaintiff one week to gather sufficient evidence otherwise the charges and case will be dropped due to lack of evidence”, the judge grants before dismissing the court.

you’re laying wonwoo’s bed lost in thought. now the only problem was trying to find evidence. sure, you could still testify but without any evidence, your claims would be useless. there had to be a way and you were sure you were missing a vital piece of information. if only there had been cameras you think and it hits you. you get up in a gasp. that was it, the cctv cameras at your home. you get up, rushing to find wonwoo, who’s in the other room doing something on his computer. 

“i figured it out wonwoo”, you tell and he looks up at you. “the cctv cameras you installed at my home, they would have captured jeonghan on it and what he did”, you say and you watch wonwoo’s eyes light up as he follows what you’re saying. 

“he was at your house that night?”, he asks.

“yes! and the cameras would have picked it up”, you say.

“and it must have picked up on the audio too”, he states.

"audio?", you ask.

"yes, i installed one's that recorded audio too", he fills in. “yn this is amazing”, he adds “and the best part, i have access to the cctv cameras”, wonwoo adds.

“i just hope jeonghan didn’t get to them”, you tell, worried.

“no, he doesn’t know about them, i didn’t tell him”, wonwoo says.

“you are a genius”, you tell, leaning down to pepper his cheek with a kiss.

“i could say the same thing about you”, he tells, his hands finding your waist. 

you smile, looking down at him, frowning when you notice the fingerprints on his glasses. your hands move up, carefully sliding them off as you clean them with the corner of your shirt, asking how he could even see as you gently put the glasses back on his face. 

“we might have found some information from jeonghan’s computer and files”, wonwoo adds. “i’ll pass it on to my lawyer, he’ll handle it”. 

“do you think we can pull this off?”, you ask wonwoo, your hands resting on his shoulders as you look down at him, wonwoo still seated on his chair.

“i think we can”, he tells, assuring you.

that night, wonwoo filters through the cctv footage to that night and just like you’d predicted, the whole incident where he came to your home and basically confessed what he was doing was recorded, the audio was impeccable too. jeonghan could kiss his life goodbye now. wonwoo hands off this evidence to his lawyer and now you can just wait.

it’s finally the day. you were ready but also nervous and anxious. a thousand what if’s went through your mind as you got ready that morning. you had been informed that your father would also be present at the court hearing since the case indirectly involved him. wonwoo drops you off at the court that morning.

“where are you going?”, you ask, grabbing onto his hand.

“the lawyer just called me, i need to quickly pick up something for him, but i’ll be back okay”, he assures. you nod and wait outside. there was still time for the hearing to take place in 30 minutes approximately. 

wonwoo isn’t back even after your lawyer arrives. you’re constantly checking your watch and seeing the time, looking out to see if you can spot wonwoo but you can’t see him. 

“i can’t see wonwoo? didn’t he come with you?”, the lawyer asks and you furrow your brows in confusion.

“what do you mean? he told me you called him asking him to get something”, you tell and he looks back at you equally confused. “i did no such thing”, he says. 

you fish out your phone and try to call him but it goes unanswered. you try again but no answer. 

“yn it’s time, let’s go”, your lawyer says and you put your phone back inside, hoping wonwoo was okay.

-at court-

“your honour, if you look here, you will see the cctv footage of mr.yoon and his men who were at my client's house on the night of the 8th. you can see the person, who was supposed to be yn’s bodyguard, lock up my client in the room and call mr.yoon, who arrives shortly. you can see clearly how mr.yoon threatened my clinet yn and even confessed to what he’s been doing, saying that he intentionally manipulated and betrayed yn’s father and set him up because he has an ulterior motive”, your lawyer states. 

the video of that night plays and there’s no way that anyone would not believe you anymore. it was clear as crystal what jeonghan was up to now and his true motives were revealed.

“does the defendant have anything to say?” the judge asks. 

“yes, i’d like to cross examine the client”, jeonghan lawyer says, stepping up and coming up to the witness stand where you were sitting. after your cross examination is done the judge announces that the final verdict will be delivered next week, on friday. given the high profile individuals that were involved in the case, a prompt but careful decision would be made. friday is a week away from now. the court is adjourned and you get up and leave, jeonghan purposely bumping into you as you go out, giving you a smirk.

you pick up your phone and call wonwoo again and the call is finally answered. “wonwoo where are you?”, you ask.

“hello is this someone that mr.jeon is acquainted with?”, the other person on the line asks, a female.

“yes, can i know who this is?”

“i’m calling from goodwill hospital, mr. jeon has been in an accident”, she says and your heart drops.

your feet start moving on their own as you run outside, pushing through the crowd of reporters and almost tripping as you try to hail a taxi, on your way to the hospital. you rush into the hospital asking for wonwoo at the front desk. you’re guided to his room, where the doctor explains that he was extremely lucky and only suffered from minor injuries. he would need a few days of rest and he could then be discharged. you’re instantly relieved to hear that but you’re still anxious. 

you peek into his room, slowly sliding the door open as you walk in, taking in his state and you instantly teared up. you sit beside him, reaching out to hold his hand as you keep your head down, looking at your hand on top of his. a couple of minutes pass by and you feel a soft squeeze of your hand and you look up seeing wonwoo awake.

“wonwoo”, you are relieved he was awake. “are you okay-shit no that’s a stupid question, you’re obviously not okay”, you tell in a rush.

he sits up slowly, wincing in pain but otherwise keeping a straight face.

“what happened?”, you ask softly. 

“i got jumped by jeonghan’s men. i only figured when i was already back at the apartment that the call was indeed not the lawyer”, wonwoo explains.

“shit”, you say.

“i shouldn’t have let you go, i should have insisted you stay”, you tell, feeling like this was all your fault now. 

“hey, hey look at me”, wonwoo says. 

“i just don’t want you to end up getting hurt because of me”, you tell. 

“i’m okay yn, i’m a tough guy you know”, he says, trying to lighten the mood.

after he’s rested enough and the doctors deem him okay, he’s discharged and you take him home. you tell wonwoo all about the court hearing today and now the only thing you could do was wait.

-final hearing-

the media has been on fire the last few days, jeonghan’s case gaining the entire country's attention. but even then, people were 50/50 about the chances of who would win even though the evidence was pretty clear. but you could never tell, the law wasn’t always fair sometimes and you just prayed that it would be fair to you. wonwoo was much better now and was healing well and he insisted on accompanying you, even though you told him he should stay at home and rest. 

you’re sitting in front, jeonghan on the opposite side and the court house was crowded, the media causing an uproar outside, eager to report every single second and eager to find out the final verdict of the case. the judge looks at you, and then at jeonghan before they announce the verdict.

“given the high profile of the case and the evidence submitted from both ends, we have carefully reviewed the evidence and points of this case. it has come to a unanimous decision that the defendant, mr. yoon jeonghan is found guilty and will serve ten years in jail and have to pay a fine as well for the damages done and emotional distress caused to the plaintiff. 

you cover your mouth in shock. you did it. you won! you couldn’t believe it as you cover your mouth in shock, tears filling your eyes. your father looks at you and the look he gave you was nothing short of proud. you won, your father was going to be free and jeonghan was going to go to jail, he was going to get punished and things were going to be okay now.

as people start filtering out, you’re looking for wonwoo, whom you can’t seem to spot anywhere. you had to tell him. through the crowd, you manage to head out of the courtroom where people start congratulating you and your father. but you were only focused on finding wonwoo.

you run out, only to end up getting ambushed by all the news reporters and journalists, all of them eager to know your thoughts as they bombard you with questions.

“how do you feel yn?”

“how does it feel to know your father is free”

“please share a few words”

you were being bombarded with questions that were going straight through your head and that’s when you heard someone call out your name - wonwoo. you turn around, spotting him on the other side, a few feet away from you. you smile and run towards him, running into his arms as he picks you up and spins you around.

“we did it”, you whisper, your face inches away from his. “we did it”, he repeats, giving you a proud smile. you lean in, kissing him, not caring about what people were going to think anymore. wonwoo kisses you back with the same fierceness, like he was telling you that he was going to stand by you, so that you could conquer the world with him.

-epilogue-

after your father was dropped from all the accusations and was free, his company was slowly starting to gain traction again. the people were now in support of him, now more than ever and people wanted to know his story. but he always said one thing - that he wouldn't have been able to do it without you by his side. you ended up finally graduating college after your father approached them and they did give you extra credits for the trouble they caused you. you’d gotten your own office space in your dad’s building to work from and you were on your way to build your own company that stood for what it believed it.

you’re standing in front of wonwoo in your office with your arms crossed over your chest as you stare him down. he only stands, blinking down at you.

“what is it love?”, he asks.

“we can’t do this anymore wonwoo”, you tell and a wave of emotion seems to go through wonwoo’s face.

“do what?”, he asks calmly.

“this!”, you say, gesturing your hands between him and you.

“i don’t want you to be my bodyguard anymore”, you state and he furrows his brows, confused. 

“what do you mean?”, he asks. “did i do something wrong?”, he asks, taking a small step towards you.

“i don’t need a bodyguard anymore”, you tell sternly.

“i beg to differ”, he says calmly.

“i want you to be my boyfriend”, you say and he raises a brow at this proposition.

“i thought i already was”, he mumbles as he bashfully pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“no more of this bodyguard business, you can be my full-time boyfriend now”, you tell and you can see the small smile playing on wonwoo’s lips.

“but isn’t a bodyguard and boyfriend in one an advantage?”, he asks.

“but i just want you to be my boyfriend instead”, you say, pouting.

“but the perks of having a bodyguard and a boyfriend is truly one of a kind”, he says, stepping closer as hands wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“oh really?”, you ask, tilting you heard to the side.

“and what might that be?”, you ask, settling your hands on wonwoo’s shoulders.

“you know, i can protect you, plus you get to see my handsome face 24/7”, he says and you snort. 

“what i know you love it. if i had a dollar everytime i caught you staring at me-”, 

“shut up”, you tell, giggling.

“and the most important perk of all, free kisses”, he tells and you chuckle even more. “what? you’re always stealing kisses from me and-”, you cut him off by kissing him, which only seems to prove the point he was making.

“see, you can’t do that”, he tells, leaning in.

“why not”, you ask, playing along.

“because you’re distracting me from my work”, he says, leaning in and kissing you again.

“that’s why you need to stop this bodyguard stuff and just be my boyfriend instead”, you whisper against his lips. 

“but then you won’t see me 24/7”, he tells.

“but then i can distract you”, you fill in.

“hm we’ll see about that love”, he says, before he captures your lips and kisses you breathlessly.

the end

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[jungkoode]

𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐄 𝐔𝐏 | 09

˗ˏˋ rules ˎˊ˗

"Rules are funny things. You make them thinking they'll keep you safe, keep everything contained. But sometimes the person you're really trying to protect yourself from… is you"

next | index

⋆｡°✩ chapter details ✩°｡⋆

word count: 6.5k

content: candle shop shenanigans, friend group dynamics, rules and boundaries

✧ author's note ✧

OKAY FIRST OF ALL—who absolutely LOVES Yeji? Because ME. The way she clocked Jungkook within seconds and had NO filter??? Like, I'm obsessed. Mans was genuinely SHOCKED that someone told him to sit his ass down. The audacity of this woman to not immediately melt under his smirky, tattooed menace energy?? I respect her so much. A feminist icon, if you will.

And IRYA. Ughhh, my precious girlie. The way she’s just casually vibing with Jungkook? Like?? They are NOTHING alike, and yet she’s over here just mingling with him, being friendly, unbothered, meanwhile Yeji is foaming at the mouth in the background. I love that contrast so much. It’s like, she doesn’t see him as a threat, just another guy in the room, which makes Jungkook (who is used to either being hated or obsessed over) lowkey confused. You can see the gears turning in his head like “Wait. Why aren’t you scared of me. Or pissed at me. Or flirting with me.” HAHAH POOR BOY.

And let’s talk about Jimin, because HELLO, my quiet support KING. He’s not even saying much in this chapter, but he’s there, next to Y/N, just in case. That kind of silent loyalty? The “I know you can handle yourself, but if you need me, I’m already here” type of presence??? I eat that up every time. Their friend group is everything to me.

Speaking of menace behavior—Jungkook. Are we surprised? He’s so unserious about everything. I loved giving him Kuko as a contact name for Y/N because in every fic, it’s always Kook or Kookie or Koo and I just—I wanted something different. Something slightly sharp and weird. Like, why does it sound like a pet name and an insult at the same time 😭😭 It’s PERFECT for their dynamic.

And finally, Y/N. My messy, mouthy, disaster baby. She is THEE representation of someone who’s barely entered adulthood, fresh into uni, kind of immature, kind of figuring it out, but loud as hell about it. Like, I KNOW some of y’all are probably reading this chapter thinking “girl, seriously??” but THAT'S THE POINT. She’s got so much personality, she’s a walking contradiction, she’s flawed, but she’s HER. I love her for it.

I also stuffed this chapter with SO many Easter eggs. Like, the foreshadowing is right there at the end, but I know y’all aren’t catching everything yet. You’ll come back later, reread it, and be like “OH MY GOD, KIKI???” And I’ll just be sitting here like 😌✌️ I love when a plan comes together.

Anyway, here’s Chapter 9, babes. Enjoy the mess. I’m off to go prep for my therapist session because, let’s be real, I probably projected a little too hard in this one LMAO.

⋆｡°✩ read on ✩°｡⋆

ao3

wattpad

You don't know why you agreed to go shopping with Yeji. 

She texted at ass o'clock in the morning about "needing your expert opinion," and honestly? Your sleep-deprived brain just went sure, whatever without processing the implications. You just mentioned having to buy something for Emma — her birthday's in two weeks — and it was downhill from there.

"This place smells like a Pinterest board threw up," Yeji announces as you enter the third candle store of the day. Some fancy boutique with mason jars everywhere and prices that make you want to cry. "Who names a candle Whispers of Moonlight?"

"Someone getting paid way too much," you mutter, checking the price tag. Jesus. "Forty dollars for—is this supposed to smell like grass?"

"Rich people grass." Yeji picks up another one, face scrunching. "Autumn's Last Kiss. What does that even mean? Like, trees making out?"

"Pretty sure it's just pumpkin spice trying to be fancy."

"Capitalism is wild." She moves down the aisle, combat boots squeaking against the polished floor. "Oh shit, look at this one. Midnight Jasmine's Secret Rendezvous. That's not a candle, that's a Mills & Boon novel."

You snort, trailing after her. "Speaking of reading material—"

"We are not starting a book club book chat right now."

"I'm just saying, if you actually showed up to Victorian Lit—"

"And listen to Professor Stevens cream himself over Dickens for two hours? Pass." She picks up another candle, this one in black glass. "Dark Temptation. Bet you five bucks it smells like axe body spray."

She's not wrong. You wrinkle your nose as she waves it under your face. "Why does everything 'dark' and 'masculine' smell like a frat house?"

"Because the straights are not okay." Yeji sets it back, wiping her hands on her jeans like the scent might be contagious. "What did Emma say she likes again?"

"Anything except roses." You pause at a display of seasonal scents. "Her roommate burns those generic rose ones from the dollar store. Pretty sure she's traumatized."

"Valid." Yeji's already moved on to the next shelf, picking up random ones and reading their names in increasingly dramatic voices. "Summer's Sweet Embrace. Woodland Mystery. Oh my god, Bachelor's Button? What the fuck is a bachelor's button?"

"It's a flower," you say, distracted by a actually nice-looking sage and cedar one. Still overpriced, but... "My mom used to grow them."

"Sounds fake, but okay." 

She’s quiet for a second. Then:

"What about this one?" Yeji holds up a purple candle, squinting at the label. "Lavender Dreams. Sounds pretentious as fuck."

"Put that down before you break it," you mutter, scanning the shelves. The prices are criminal. “And aren't you supposed to be in Art History right now?"

"Professor Wang's doing that thing again where he talks about his divorce for two hours." She shrugs, setting the candle back with surprising care. "I've already heard all about Karen three times this semester."

You roll your eyes, picking up a sage-scented one. And no, you're not lingering in the candle section because you love them, okay? Emma likes candles too. It's completely reasonable research for a birthday gift. Nothing to do with how your apartment could use some—

"These are boring anyway," Yeji declares, already moving on. Her attention snaps to something across the street. Barnes & Noble, its windows displaying the latest bestsellers. 

"Wanna check out some books?" she asks, hands stuffed in the pockets of her worn-out grey zip-up. The one she definitely stole from Irya's closet.

"Since when do you read?" You snort, following her out of the candle store. Because you know damn well Yeji's idea of "reading" is skimming SparkNotes twenty minutes before class.

"Woah, judging a book by its cover?" She gestures to her whole aesthetic: combat boots, ripped jeans, that stolen sweater. "Just 'cause I look like this doesn't mean I don't read."

"You told me last week that Romeo and Juliet was, and I quote, 'straight people nonsense.'"

"It is straight people nonsense." She pushes open the bookstore's door, a blast of air conditioning hitting you. "But we need books for the club."

"You mean the chat group you named 'Fuck The Patriarchy Book Club' that's basically just for rambling and complaining?" Like how you ended up here today, victim to Yeji's class-skipping schemes. "That club?"

"Yeah?" She flashes that smile that you’re starting to associate with trouble. "C'mon, I need to check if they have Pride and Prejudice."

You trail after her into Fiction & Literature, past towering shelves and that distinct bookstore smell. "Pride and—hold up. Weren't you just shitting on romance classics?"

"Yeah, and?" She's already scanning the 'A' section with laser focus. "My girl wants to read it, so we're reading it."

"You're buying it because Irya mentioned it once in the group chat."

"And?" Yeji doesn't even pretend to deny it, moving purposefully through the aisles. "My girlfriend has taste. Unlike some people who waste their time reading..." she picks up a random book, "The Art of Corporate Finance."

"That's not even—"

"Found it!" She pulls out a leather-bound edition, definitely not the cheapest version available. "Look at this fancy shit. Irya's gonna love it."

You're about to point out how whipped she is when something catches your eye. A "Now Hiring" sign at the front counter, clean white letters against dark wood. Huh. You've been meaning to look for a job, something to get you out of the apartment more. And to help your finances. too. God knows you’d rather avoid having to ask mom and daddy for more money. 

"Earth to Y/N?" Yeji waves a hand in front of your face. "You good?"

"Yeah, just..." You gesture vaguely at the sign. 

Working at a bookstore wouldn't be the worst thing. Plus, employee discount.

"Oh shit, you should totally apply." She examines the sign with newfound interest. "Then you can hook me up with discounts on all the books Irya wants."

"I haven't even—"

"Excuse me?" she calls to a passing employee, ignoring your attempt to shut her up. "My friend here wants to apply for the job opening."

You're going to kill her. Slowly. With one of these hardcover books.

But the employee's already turning around—young guy, probably another student, name tag reading 'Mark'—and you can't exactly bolt without looking insane. Perfect. Just perfect.

"Oh, yeah?" Mark brightens. "We're actually pretty desperate for people who can work weekday afternoons. You have any retail experience?"

"I—"

"She's great with books," Yeji cuts in, because apparently she's your agent now. "Like, literally will fight someone over their trash literary takes. You should hear her rant about Hemingway."

You shoot her a death glare, but... well, she's not wrong about Hemingway.

"That's actually perfect," Mark says. "We get a lot of students asking for recommendations. Here—" He heads to the counter, returning with an application form. "You can fill this out now if you want. Manager's still here."

And somehow, because the universe hates you, you end up at one of the reading tables, filling out your work history while Yeji "helps" by suggesting you list your special skills as "roasting bad authors" and "setting pretentious men straight about their Joyce opinions."

Your phone buzzes. Group chat.

6B Hell

Yoongs 🎧: 𝙲𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚙𝚜𝚞𝚕𝚎𝚜? 𝚆𝚎’𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚛𝚗

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚙𝚊𝚢𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚔

Yoongs 🎧: 𝙸 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞

Yoongs 🎧: 𝚆𝚎’𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝟷𝟻𝚝𝚑

Yoongs 🎧: 𝙹𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚌𝚞𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚝𝚑𝚡 𝚖𝚊𝚗

You're about to reply that you'll grab some later when another message pops up.

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚡 𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝? 𝚞 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖

What the actual fuck?

You: 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜?

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚘𝚏𝚌 

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚎 

You let out a disbelieving sound. Yeji, who's been "helping" by pointing out every minor spelling mistake in your application, peers over your shoulder.

"What's up?"

"My roommate being a jerk as usual." You know for a fact Jungkook's probably sprawled on the couch right now, doing fuck-all except maybe killing brain cells on his PlayStation. But sure, you should get the coffee.

You: 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚢 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚒’𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚎

You: 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚘, 𝚒’𝚖 𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚢

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚊𝚠 𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚗𝚒𝚡

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 

Yoongs 🎧: 𝙲𝚊𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝?

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚙𝚕𝚞𝚜 𝚠𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚒𝚖 𝚑𝚘𝚝 

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚘𝚛 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚊𝚝 𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚜𝚎? 

Your fingers freeze over the keyboard. That asshole.

You: 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗? 

You: 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚊𝚕 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚡 

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚠𝚊𝚢. 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚞𝚛 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚘𝚞𝚝…

You: 𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚍𝚊𝚖𝚗 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚢 

You: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝, 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚞𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚎?

Yoongs 🎧: 𝚈/𝙽.

Something about Yoongi’s message makes you pause. That's... weird. But before you can think about it:

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚒𝚖 𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚢

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘 :)

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚐𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚢𝚊 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠?

"I'm assuming he means video games," Yeji says, still reading. "Not the fun kind of grinding."

You elbow her in the ribs.

You: 𝚔 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚗 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝

You: 𝚒𝚖 𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚢 𝚝𝚘𝚘

You: 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚊𝚍𝚞𝚕𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚎? :)

Yoongs 🎧: 𝙹𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚛𝚘𝚙 𝚒𝚝, 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 

Yoongs 🎧: 𝙸’𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚕𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚔

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚗𝚊𝚑 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚘𝚕 

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚡 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚗𝚒𝚡? ;) 

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚟𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚊 𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜? 

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚞𝚛 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 :)

You're going to murder him. You're actually going to commit homicide, and Yoongi's going to have to find a new roommate, and you know what? He'll probably thank you.

You: 𝚛𝚘𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕

You: :)

"So," Yeji says as you aggressively save his number under 'Kuko🖕🏻', "this is fun."

"I hate him so much."

"Uh-huh." She glances at your phone, where he's still sending coffee emoji spam. "You know what this means though, right?"

"That I need better roommates?"

"That you're definitely getting this job." She taps the half-completed application. "Can't spend all your time at the apartment if you're working retail hours."

She... might have a point.

Kuko🖕🏻: 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚍𝚘 

Kuko🖕🏻: 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚟𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚜 𝚞 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚋𝚞𝚢 

Yoongs 🎧: 𝙸’𝚖 𝚖𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚝 

Yoongs 🎧: 𝚈/𝙽, 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛. 𝚆𝚎,𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛.

Your phone buzzes again, but this time it's the other group chat. Thank fuck.

Fuck The Patriarchy Book Club 📚

Irya 🌸: 𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚛 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚜?

Irya 🌸: 𝚓𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚙𝚞𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚎𝚒𝚛𝚍 𝚔𝚎𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗

Jin ☕️: 𝙲𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝.

Jin ☕️: 𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚜.

Jin ☕️: 𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝟻𝟶𝚔𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝟻.

Jin ☕️: 𝙶𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚎.

Your phone keeps vibrating with notifications from the other chat. You peek at it. 

Kuko🖕🏻: ☕️

Kuko🖕🏻: ☕️

Kuko🖕🏻: ☕️

Kuko🖕🏻: ☕️

Kuko🖕🏻: ☕️

Kuko🖕🏻: ☕️

Kuko🖕🏻: ☕️

Kuko🖕🏻: ☕️

Jesus fucking Christ.

Yeji 🖤: 𝚙𝚒𝚣𝚣𝚊 𝚊𝚝 𝚢/𝚗’𝚜?

Yeji 🖤: 𝚠𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚊 𝚖𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎 

Your head snaps up. "Excuse me?"

"What?" Yeji doesn't even look guilty. "You keep complaining about him, might as well know what we’re working with here."

You: 𝚋𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚟𝚘𝚕𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚢 𝚊𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝

You: 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝙺𝙽𝙾𝚆 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗

Irya 🌸: 𝚘𝚘𝚑 𝚢𝚎𝚜!! 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗??

Irya 🌸: 𝚒 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗 

Irya 🌸: 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚓𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎?

You let out a loud sigh, now considering Irya’s question. Because part of you thinks about bringing unwanted guests to the apartment, about how that could disturb the peace, especially for Yoongi.

But also? Also, Jungkook brought his friends last time. No warning, no group chat message to let you know you’d meeting random dudes in your pokemon PJs.

So he can suck it, honestly. 

You: 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎

You: 𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚘

Jin ☕️: 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝙹𝚘𝚎’𝚜.

Jin ☕️: 𝙽𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚎.

Jin ☕️: 𝙰𝚕𝚜𝚘, 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚏 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎𝚍𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚘𝚛 𝚒𝚝 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗.

Another cascade of coffee emojis floods your notifications. You switch back to the apartment chat.

Kuko🖕🏻: ☕️

Kuko🖕🏻: ☕️

Kuko🖕🏻: ☕️

Kuko🖕🏻: 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚡𝚡𝚡𝚡𝚡

Kuko🖕🏻: ☕️

Kuko🖕🏻: ☕️

Kuko🖕🏻: 𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚒𝚐𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛

Kuko🖕🏻: ☕️

Kuko🖕🏻: ☕️

Kuko🖕🏻: 𝚒𝚖 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚍𝚒𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚎

Kuko🖕🏻: ☕️

Kuko🖕🏻: ☕️

Kuko🖕🏻: 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝟿𝟶% 𝚌𝚊𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚎

Kuko🖕🏻: ☕️

Kuko🖕🏻: ☕️

You hit mute so fast you nearly crack your screen.

You: 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚑 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚙𝚒𝚣𝚣𝚊 𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚎

You: 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚈𝙾𝚄’𝚁𝙴 𝚋𝚞𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚎𝚓𝚒

Yeji 🖤: 𝚕𝚖𝚊𝚘 𝚗𝚘

Yeji 🖤: 𝚒 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝟻𝟶 𝚋𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚢 𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚔

Yeji 🖤: 𝚒𝚖 𝙱𝚁𝙾𝙺𝙴 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚔𝚎

Irya 🌸: 𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚔? 𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚎? 👀 

Irya 🌸: 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚞𝚢 𝚖𝚎 𝚊 𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚔?!?!?! 💘

Jin ☕️: 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐.

Jin ☕️: 𝙸’𝚖 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚜.

Yeji 🖤: 𝚜𝚑𝚞𝚝 𝚞𝚙 𝚌𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚢

Yeji 🖤: 𝚐𝚘 𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚣𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚜

"So," Yeji says, watching you aggressively fill out the availability section of your application. "Should we warn your roommate about pizza night or...?"

You think about the endless coffee emojis. About how he's probably still spamming them, the notifications piling up in your muted chat.

"Nope."

She grins. "Chaos it is."

You make it to your apartment after what feels like the longest trek ever, juggling the coffee capsules bag and your dignity. And no, you didn't buy them because of him, okay? You bought them because Yoongi deserves his caffeine fix. Yoongi, who actually helped you carry boxes up flights of stairs when you moved in. Yoongi, who warns you when the hot water's acting up. Yoongi, who—unlike some people—doesn't blast music at 3AM.

"Still can't believe you actually bought them," Yeji says for the fifth time, trailing behind you up the stairs. "Like, you're really just gonna enable his bratty ass?"

"They're not for him." You dig through your bag for your keys. "I got the regular ones for Yoongi. The vanilla ones are mine."

"Uh-huh." She's got that look again. "And you got the vanilla ones because...?"

"Because I like vanilla coffee." Your keys jangle aggressively as you search. "Not everything is about him."

"I offered to spike them," she reminds everyone, way too loudly for a hallway. "Could've made it look factory-sealed and everything."

Jimin looks slightly concerned. "Do I want to know why you know how to do that?"

"Probably not," Irya says cheerfully. "But that's why I love her."

You finally locate your keys, jamming them into the lock. It sticks—because of course it does, these old-ass doors—and you have to do that weird wiggle thing to get it open. "The last thing I need is a lawsuit for attempted murder by coffee."

"It wouldn't kill him," Yeji argues. "Just, you know. Mild poisoning. Character building."

"Pretty sure that's still illegal," Jimin says.

"Only if you get caught."

The door finally gives, swinging open to reveal... nobody. The living room's empty, thank fuck. No sign of Yoongi or—more importantly—no sign of him. Maybe they're both out. Maybe you'll actually get through this pizza night without any—

"Yo, this is actually nice," Yeji says, already making herself at home on the couch. "When you said 'bros' cave' I was expecting, like, beer pong tables and stolen street signs."

"Those are in Jungkook's room," you mutter, dropping the coffee bag on the kitchen counter. Not that you've seen his room. You haven't. Obviously.

Irya's examining the vinyl collection by the TV. "These are good albums. Your roommates have taste."

"Those are Yoongi's." Probably. You're like 90% sure they're Yoongi's. You've never actually asked.

"The place is surprisingly clean," Jimin notes, still hovering politely by the door. "Need help with anything?"

"Nah, just—" You pause as something orange streaks past. "Oh, shit, wait—Griffin, no—"

Too late. Your cat roommate's already winding between Jimin's legs, purring like the attention whore he is.

"You have a cat?" Irya drops to her knees immediately. "Oh my god, he's gorgeous."

"He's not mine." You dump your bag on the counter. "He's Jungkook's emotional support menace."

"Like owner, like cat," Yeji says, watching Griffin charm his way into Jimin's arms.

"True." You roll your eyes. "Demanding, dramatic, and constantly in the way."

Griffin headbutts Jimin's shin, purring louder.

"Should I..." He looks uncertain. "Is this okay?"

"Yeah, he does that." You start unpacking the coffee capsules. “He's harmless. Just attention-starved and thinks he owns the place."

"Again," Yeji says, "like owner, like cat."

"Pretty much.”

"At least the cat's cute." She stretches out on the couch, combat boots definitely leaving marks. "Makes up for the personality."

"Tragic how the genes weren't distributed evenly," you mutter, strategizing about how to arrange the coffee capsules in the cabinet. Normal ones for Yoongi, vanilla ones hidden in the back where grabby hands can't reach them.

Irya's still on the floor with Griffin, who's now rolled onto his back. "I don't know, he seems sweet."

"The cat? Yeah." You slam the cabinet open. "The owner? Walking nightmare."

"Speaking of nightmares." Jimin's still by the door, ever polite. "Should we maybe warn him we're having pizza here? Since it's his apartment too..."

You think about the forty-seven coffee emojis still sitting in your muted notifications.

"Nope."

"Absolutely not," Yeji agrees. "He can deal with it like she dealt with having his dudebro friends over last week."

Irya looks up from scratching Griffin's belly. "Oh yeah, didn't you say you ran into them in your—what was it?"

"Pokemon pajamas," you groan. "Look, they were clean, okay? And it was like, Saturday morning. Who has people over at Saturday morning?"

"Douchebags," Yeji supplies helpfully. 

You're about to agree when you hear it. A door opening down the hall. Footsteps.

Of-fucking-course.

"You bought the coffee, phoenix?"

The drawl comes from behind you, and you briefly consider whether jail time for murder would really be that bad. Jungkook's leaning against his doorframe in—are those fucking Sonic pajama pants?—looking like he just rolled out of bed. At 7PM. Because of course he did.

"Nice little reunion you got going on here, by the way." 

He yawns, running a hand through his messy hair as he saunters into the kitchen. Like this is totally fine. Like having your friends over without warning isn't exactly what he did last week with Hoseok and Taehyung—who, by the way, apparently has keys to your fucking apartment. 

You pointedly ignore him, which would work better if he wasn't literally heading straight for you. He reaches around you to rummage through the shopping bags, and you slap his hands away. 

“Get out of my stuff."

"Oh," he pulls out the vanilla capsules before you can stop him, "you actually got me the vanilla ones?"

"They're not for you." You snatch them back. "Get your hands off them."

He grabs for them again. "Pretty sure you bought them because—"

"I bought them for me." You yank them away, but he's already going for the other bag. "Oh my god, can you not—"

"So this is the pain in the ass?" Yeji's voice drips with disdain from the couch. 

Jungkook quirks an eyebrow, still trying to get his hands on your shopping. "Who's Cruella de Vil over there?"

You elbow him away from the bags. "None of your—"

"Another candle?" He snatches it up, holding it over his head where you can't reach. Dick. "Seriously? After last time?"

"If you'd stop making everything smell like balls and nachos—" You jump for it, but he just stretches higher, "—I wouldn't have to buy them, Rogue."

"I don't smell like—"

"Wait," Irya interrupts, and you catch her hiding a smile behind her hand. "Phoenix?"

"Rogue?" Jimin adds quietly from his corner, looking between you back and forth.

Jungkook's smirk widens as he finally lets you grab the candle back. "Oh, she hasn't told you that story?"

"We are not discussing this again." You shove the candle in its bag. "Ever."

"Why not? It's hilarious." He's fully grinning now, leaning his hip against the counter like he owns it. "Haven't told them about how you almost set the place on fire your first week here?"

"BECAUSE YOU ENTERED THE HOUSE LIKE A FUCKING—" Your hand's fisted in his t-shirt before you can stop yourself, and he's snickering, the absolute dick. "Like a complete psychopath," you finish through gritted teeth.

"The lock sticks!" He's still laughing. "I told you, it's an old door—"

"You didn't have to shoulder it open like the SWAT team!"

"You dropped a lit match!"

"Because you scared the shit out of me!" 

"Ugh," Yeji groans. "Is he always like this?"

"Worse," you mutter, finally releasing his shirt. "Usually he's too busy being edgy in his room with his electric guitar."

Irya's definitely smirking now. Jimin looks like he wants to disappear into the wall.

"Whatever, phoenix." He makes another grab for the vanilla capsules. "Rising from the ashes of your attempted arson."

"That's not—" You smack his hand away. "That's not why you started calling me that and you know it."

"Pretty sure it is."

"Pretty sure you're full of shit."

Griffin chooses this moment to abandon Irya and wind between Jungkook's legs, the little traitor. Jungkook immediately scoops him up, and you pretend not to notice how the cat starts purring instantly.

"See?" He scratches under Griffin's chin. "G knows I'm right."

"G's a whore for attention." You start shoving the shopping bags away. "He'd side with Satan if Satan had treats."

"So that's why he likes you."

"You calling me Satan now? Wasn't it phoenix? Pick your poison, dumbass."

"Nah." He's still petting Griffin, who's practically melting in his arms. "Just saying you're both dramatic as fuck."

"Says the guy who kicked down a door over a—"

"The lock was stuck!"

"Yeah? Like your head up your ass?"

“Do you two always do this?” Irya prompts. 

"No," you mutter, yanking the coffee bag away as he tries to sneak another grab at it. "When he's not gaming like a twelve-year-old, he's—stop touching my stuff!"

"Just checking what flavor you got," he says innocently, which might work better if he wasn't actively trying to steal the vanilla capsules. "Since you bought them for me and all—"

"I will actually murder you."

"With what? Another candle?"

"Keep talking and find out."

"Children," Yeji interrupts, looking physically pained. "Can we not?"

But Jungkook's already reaching for the bag again, and you swat his hand away. "I swear to god—"

"What? I'm just being neighborly—"

"You're being a pain in the ass—"

"Aw, you noticed?"

"Hard not to when you're—" You break off as he successfully snags a vanilla capsule. "Give that back."

"Make me."

"What are you, five?"

"Says the one hoarding coffee—"

"It's my coffee—"

"Pretty sure you bought it with daddy's credit card—"

The words hit like a slap and before you can think better of it, you snarl, "Fuck you."

Your eyes widen the second it leaves your mouth because you know that look on his face, that slight quirk of his lips, the way he's already—

You slam your hand over his mouth so fast you practically punch him, fingers digging into his jaw. He makes a muffled sound of protest, but you can feel him grinning under your palm, the absolute dick.

"Don't," you hiss. "Don't you fucking dare."

He raises his eyebrows like who, me? but you can feel him trying not to laugh.

"Okay!" Jimin claps his hands together, looking slightly alarmed. "So, pizza? Anyone want to look at the menu?”

“Oooh, that sounds promising.” Jungkook says, yanking your hand away. 

"Can't you leave?" You eye him. "Go jack yourself off while you look in the mirror or something. Maybe play your fucking guitar."

"Huhhh?" He's already propping his elbows on the back of the sofa, leaning over the narrow table that ‘separates’ the kitchen from the living room. "I want pizza too. Plus, your friends look nice." His smile is all teeth. "I'm sure they don't mind."

Jimin materializes next to you in the kitchen like some kind of conflict-sensing angel, pretending to be interested in the coffee maker. You know he's checking if you're okay, which would be sweet if you weren't currently fantasizing about drowning Jungkook in vanilla coffee.

"I mind," Yeji announces flatly.

"No problem!" Irya chirps at the same time.

Yeji shoots her girlfriend an exasperated look, but Irya just settles more comfortably against her side. You're going to kill both of them.

"Who's the pink pony over here?" Jungkook nods at Irya, and you see Yeji's arm tighten around her shoulders, hackles practically visible.

"Touch her and die."

"Aww, babe." Irya pats Yeji's thigh. "I'm Irya, and this little black cat over here is my girlfriend Yeji." She points across the room. "That's Jimin."

Jungkook glances back at where you're now aggressively reorganizing coffee capsules, Jimin hovering uncertainly beside you. There's something in his expression you don't like, mouth opening to say god knows what—

"And the third roommate?" Yeji cuts in.

You're about to answer but Jungkook beats you to it. "Yoongi's not here."

"Working late," you add, just to be contrary. "You know, like an actual adult with a job?"

"Unlike some people," Yeji mutters.

You snort at her commentary, and you tune out Jungkook’s comeback. Instead your eyes flicker to Jimin, who’s scrolling through his phone, probably looking at pizza options, when—

"Yo Jim, come here." Jungkook waves him over. "Let me look at the menu."

You grab Jimin's arm before he can move, linking it with yours. "I'm choosing first, wait your damn turn."

Jungkook rises from the sofa with a click of his tongue. "Come on, I just wanna—"

"Did she fucking stutter?" Yeji snaps, and Jungkook actually blinks, like he's not used to being shut down that fast.

You turn back to Jimin's phone with maybe a bit too much satisfaction. "Okay, so what are we thinking?"

"They have this new quattro formaggi that's supposed to be good." Jimin tilts the screen so you can see better. "Or the classic margherita—"

"Boring," you mutter, scrolling past. "Oh, what about the spicy one? With the—"

"The calabrese?" He zooms in on the description. "Spicy salami, fresh basil..."

"That looks good." You're actually getting hungry now. "Maybe we could—"

A shadow falls over the phone as Jungkook appears in front of you like some kind of pizza-seeking missile. He peers over both your lowered heads, close enough that you can feel the heat from his chest, and you resist the urge to elbow him in the ribs.

"Have you two decided?" His breath hits your ear. "Because I—"

You're about to grab a fistful of his hair and yank him back to a respectable distance when he snatches Jimin's phone right out of his hands.

"What the fuck—" You start to reach for him, but Jimin catches your wrist.

"It's okay," he says quietly. "Don't worry about it."

Jungkook's already scrolling, completely unbothered. "Yo, what do you two want?" He nods at the couch without looking up.

"Hawaiian for me," Irya pipes up cheerfully. "Yeji wants the diavola, extra spicy."

Yeji just grumbles something that sounds suspiciously like "men" and turns on the TV.

"Cool, cool." Jungkook's still scrolling. "Phoenix, you getting the calabrese?"

"None of your business."

"Just trying to make sure we don't order the same thing." He glances up with that insufferable smirk. "Unless you want to share?"

"I'd rather eat glass."

"Okay, so that's a no on sharing." He's still scrolling through Jimin's phone like he owns it. "I'm thinking meat lovers."

"Of course you are."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"That you're basic as fuck."

"Says the one getting—" he squints at the screen "—spicy calabrese, like some—"

"Can you two shut up for five minutes?" Yeji snaps from the couch. "Some of us are trying to hear the TV."

"My bad," Jungkook says, not sounding sorry at all. He hands Jimin's phone back—finally—and stretches. "Alright, four pizzas ordered. Now we wait."

You watch him sprawl onto the armchair—the one he keeps arguing it’s his (it’s not?)—like he belongs there, and something about it sets your teeth on edge. The casual way he's inserted himself into your evening, how he's somehow charmed Irya into actual conversation, how he keeps looking at you when he thinks you're not paying attention.

"Whatever, man." You push away from the counter, desperate to get away from his presence for at least two minutes. "I'm gonna get into my PJs, I'll be back."

You head down the hall, your skin prickling like he's watching you go. Which he's not. Obviously. You're just on edge because he's being more insufferable than usual, getting all cozy with your friends like he has any right to—

"Yo, phoenix, wait." Jungkook's voice stops you. "Remember that thing with the landlord? The, uh, maintenance form?"

"What maintenance form?"

"You mentioned to Yoongi about the lock sticking, right?" He's already moving towards you with that easy confidence that makes you want to punch him. "Super's been bitching about proper documentation. Needs your signature since it's your door."

He keeps talking as he approaches, something about liability and repair schedules, and it sounds legitimate enough that you almost miss how he's gradually crowding your space. Almost miss how each step brings him closer until—

He reaches past you, hand brushing your hip as he turns the handle. The door barely has time to click shut before Jungkook’s on you, his whole body crowding into yours, ushering you backward so fast you stumble. Almost fall.

“Jesus—”

Your balance tips, but before you can catch yourself, his hands are already on you—grabbing, steadying, possessive. A solid chest against yours, broad palms locking around your wrists before you can shove him away.

He grins down at you, smirky, flushed, pupils blown. That lazy, cocky amusement dripping from his expression like he planned this. Like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Relax, Phoenix.” His grip tightens, pulling your wrists just slightly apart. “You’re fine.”

And then his mouth crashes onto yours.

Hard. Messy. Zero warning, zero hesitation. Just heat and teeth and tongue, urgent like he needs to shut you up.

You match him instantly, kissing back just as fiercely, nails curling into his shirt, yanking him closer. His hair is soft under your fingers, thick and dangerous, and you tug—just the way he likes it. Just the way that always makes him groan, makes him grab.

Which he does. Both hands drop to your ass, full palms, fingers digging in like he can’t help himself. A rough squeeze that pulls a breathy sound from your throat before you can stop it.

He chuckles, low and wrecked against your lips, hips rolling slow and deliberate against yours. 

“Fuck—” Another squeeze, his voice dropping. “You get all mouthy with me, and then you act surprised when you turn me on?”

Your stomach flips.

His mouth is still moving against yours, sharp and demanding, and fuck—you’re dizzy, heat curling low and deep.

You don’t realize he’s backing you up until your spine collides with the wardrobe.

You wince. “God, fuck—”

Jungkook barely lets you finish before his teeth graze your jaw, lips dragging lower—

No.

You shove at his chest, breath coming fast. “What is your problem?”

His smirk is instant, panting slightly, lips wrecked. The fucking look in his eyes—smoky, half-lidded, shamelessly pleased with himself.

“Mm?” He tilts his head, like he didn’t just grope the hell out of you. “What?”

“You can’t—” A sharp inhale. You straighten your shirt, glare sharp enough to cut. “My friends are here.”

He blinks. Shrugs. "So?"    

"So," you bite out, "we are not doing this."    

Jungkook just looks at you, like you’re speaking a foreign language. "Doing what?"    

"Don't." You level him with a flat stare.    

His head tilts, gaze dragging over you, slow and deliberate. "I just wanted to talk."    

"Talk," you repeat, incredulous.    

"Yeah." He plants a hand on the wardrobe beside your head. Not caging you in—just existing in your space, like he belongs there. "Privately."    

Jesus fuck.    

"Nope." You press your palms to his chest, feeling the heat of his skin through cotton. "Not happening."    

"Phoenix." His voice dips, lazy and smooth, like he’s humoring you. "I'll be quick."    

A disbelieving scoff. "Absolutely the fuck not."    

He laughs, quiet and amused, like this is funny to him.    

Of course it is. Of course it is.    

You shove at his chest again. "They don’t know about this, and they’re not going to know about this."    

His brows pull together, expression open, genuinely confused. "Why?"    

Oh, you could kill him.    

"Because," you grind out, "I don't need them speculating."    

"Speculating about what?"    

"About us, dumbass!"    

The words land—and then he snorts. He just, snorts. Like you just told him a funny joke he lowkey doesn’t want to laugh at. 

"Oh, fuck off," you snap.    

His grin lingers. "Nix. We fuck. That’s it. No one’s gonna think we’re picking out wedding invitations."    

You glare. "You're missing the point."    

"I really don't think I am."    

"Rogue." You exhale sharply. "I don’t want them in my business, okay?"    

He watches you for a beat, head tilted like he’s reading between the lines.    

Then he nods. Simple. Easy. "Okay."    

You blink. "Okay?"    

"Yeah?" He shrugs. "You don’t want them to know, they won’t know. It’s not that deep."    

Right. Not that deep.    

It shouldn’t be a relief—he’s only agreeing because he doesn’t care—but your shoulders still drop a fraction.    

"Good," you say.    

He hums, gaze flicking over your face, considering. "I mean, it’s not like you gotta tell them I’m your boyfriend or something. Just that we fuck sometimes. What’s wrong with that?"    

You scoff. "Everything is wrong with that, Jungkook."    

He raises an eyebrow. "Like what?"    

Like—god, where do you start?    

Like the fact that this is supposed to be contained, something that stays locked in this apartment and nowhere else. Like the fact that you need to be in control of it because if you’re not, it means it’s spiraling, and spiraling is—    

Not an option.    

He hums, considering. The vibration shivers over your skin. "Interesting."

The fuck does that mean?

You glare at him. "What?"

"Nothing." But there's a glint in his eye you don't like. Knowing. Assessing. "Just seems like you're overthinking it."

"I'm not—"

"Ashamed?" His head tilts. "Embarrassed?"

Heat crawls up your neck. "Fuck you."

"I mean." A slow drag of his gaze, head to toe and back again. "If you insist..."

Oh my god. 

Your foot connects with his shin. Hard. He grunts, flinching back. Good.

"Touch me again," you growl, "and you lose your dick."

 He holds up his hands. The picture of innocence. "Message received."

"Is it?" You cross your arms. Narrow your eyes. "Because it seems like you're having trouble understanding basic fucking boundaries."

"Nah, I get it." But there's a wicked glint in his eye, and oh, that can't be good. "No telling your friends about all the filthy things we do."

"There is no we.” You jab a finger at his chest. "No us."

A slow nod. "Right."

"I mean it, Rogue." You hold his gaze, unflinching. "This?" A sharp gesture between your bodies. "Doesn't leave this apartment."

"Mm." His tongue swipes over his bottom lip. Deliberate. Obscene. "So I shouldn't mention how you like it when I—"

Your hand clamps over his mouth, muffling his words. "Finish that sentence and die."

He grins against your palm, wholly unrepentant. Bastard.

You drop your hand. Take a step back. "I'm serious, Ry."

"Oh, I know." But there's a curl to his lips you don't trust. Not one bit.

"Do you?" You cross your arms. "Because it sounds like you're angling for a free pass to run your mouth."

"Nah." He mirrors your posture, arms folding over his chest. “Just getting a feel for the rules."

Right. Sure. "The rules are simple." You hold up a finger. "Rule one: no one knows we're fucking."

A nod. "Easy enough."

"Rule two," you continue, "if anyone asks, we're just roommates."

"Uh-huh." His tongue presses against the inside of his cheek. Considering. "That all?"

Wariness prickles up your spine. "Why?"

A shrug. Too casual. "No reason."

Bullshit.

You shake your head. "Just—forget it. Are we done here?"    

Jungkook watches you for another long second.  

Then he nods. "Yeah, we're done."  

He turns, already reaching for the doorknob, when—  

"Oh." A pause. Like he just remembered something. "And just so we're clear—this isn’t exclusive, right?"  

You blink. "What?"  

He glances back, expression easy. Casual. "Like, I can fuck other people. That cool with you?"  

A laugh bursts out of you. Short. Sharp. "Why the fuck would I care?"  

His mouth twitches. "Dunno. Just making sure."  

"Well, consider it confirmed." You fold your arms. "Do whatever the fuck you want, just—"  

He lifts his brows. "Just?"  

"Don’t give me an STD." You level him with a flat look. 

He snorts. "Noted." A beat. Then, amused— "You want test results?"  

"Oh, fuck off, Rogue."  

"Just offering, Phoenix." His smirk lingers for half a second before his expression smooths out. "So, rule number three, then."

You narrow your eyes. "Rule what?"

"Rules." He gestures between you. "One: no one knows. Two: if they ask, we're just roommates." A pause. "Three: no feelings."

Something in his voice shifts, something light but pointed, like he's not saying it just for your benefit.

You scoff. "Yeah, no shit."

He nods once, satisfied. "Cool."

And then he's gone, door clicking shut behind him like the whole thing never happened.

The air in the room is suddenly too thick.  

You exhale sharply, back hitting the wardrobe, and press your palms over your face.  

God damn him.  

Not just for being an insufferable pain in your ass, but for being right. Because logically, there's no reason to keep this a secret—he's not your boyfriend, he's just your roommate who happens to fuck you sometimes. It's not a big deal. It's not anything.

But something in you rebels at the thought of anyone knowing. Of having to explain yourself, to justify your choices. You've had enough of that to last a lifetime, enough of measuring every decision against someone else's expectations. Enough of being told what you should want, what you should do, who you should be.

This thing with Jungkook? It's yours. Messy and stupid and probably a horrible idea, but it's yours. The one thing in your life that nobody gets to have an opinion about, that nobody gets to control but you. 

And maybe that's fucked up. Maybe normal people don't feel this desperate need to keep parts of themselves hidden, to maintain this iron grip on every aspect of their lives. Maybe they don't lie awake at night planning escape routes from their own decisions.

But you've never been very good at normal, have you?

You straighten, smooth your shirt, school your face into something neutral.  

Then you open the door, step back into the living room, and pretend like your world isn’t tilting.

next | index

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[mikerickson]

8/29/2024 - 9/6/2024

If I had a nickel for every time I took a vacation in a small European naval power that historically punched above its weight in global affairs I'd have two nickels, which... ah, you know the rest.

Just got back from a trip to the Netherlands and Belgium that was basically: Amsterdam -> Apeldoorn -> Utrecht -> Den Haag -> Brussels -> Ghent -> Amsterdam. I will now proceed to talk to myself about the highlights below the cut.

Still can't sleep on planes. I even took a sleeping pill and bought a fancy new neck pillow thing to help, but instead I was just exhausted and strangling myself. My dinner also didn't sit well with me, so every time I was about to fall asleep, my gag reflex would trigger and I felt like I was gonna throw up. Seven hours of this was not very relaxing.

Landed at ass o'clock in the morning local time and had 6 hours to kill before hotel check in. I've always read that spending time outdoors in natural sunlight helps regulate your circadian rhythm and can fight jet lag, so I took us to look at some windmills. This was kind of a blur and I'm not certain it made much of a difference because I did end up crashing and taking a nap in the afternoon anyway.

Acknowledging that I am biased about this because I am 1) American and 2) literally a traffic engineer by trade, I simply cannot describe the Netherlands as anything other than "car-hostile". I felt actively unsafe driving around each city we visited because there are so many people on bicycles everywhere, who have right of way. Hell, even as a pedestrian I didn't feel safe because they come at you from every direction and you gotta keep your head on a swivel at all times. In The Hague I watched a woman get knocked into by a cyclist who just shouted over her shoulder "Let op voor fietsen!" ("Watch out for bikes!") and carried on.

Amsterdam ended up being more interesting than I was expecting and now I kinda wish I had dedicated one more day for it in the itinerary. Convenient and easy mass-transit system, some of the best bookstores I've ever been in, and beautiful canals everywhere you look.

Were I forced to describe the geography of the Netherlands, I would have to call it "suspiciously flat." I also got to continue my tradition of traveling to foreign countries, seeing literal hundreds of spinning wind turbines all over the place, and seething with jealousy.

Utrecht was a neat, smaller city with a central canal that I wish I had set aside more time for. Felt like a place where you'd actually want to live more than a touristy city.

The Mauritshuis in The Hague is where Vermeer's Girl with a Pearl Earring is located, and you know that before you even get to that room because she's plastered on 99% of everything for sale in the gift shop right at the entrance.

When we drove over the Netherlands-Belgium border, it started getting overcast. These gray skies hung around for four days, and dissipated as soon as we traveled back north on the final day. All of my memories of this country will now have a gray/de-saturated filter on them.

I know Brussels has a reputation of being a run-down or dangerous city among Europeans, but it just felt like a regular American city to me (specifically like the architecture/street layout of Boston with the political importance of Washington DC). Like, I don't know what to tell you, sometimes cities have visible homeless people, unsightly graffiti, and ethnic minority neighborhoods? It's gonna be okay, I promise. Amsterdam felt like Weenie Hut Jr. by comparison.

Going through the European Parliament building was very cool and very well laid-out and informative. Definitely a personal highlight of the trip for me.

The Belgian War Museum kinda just felt like some rich guy's personal collection of artifacts the public shouldn't have had access to? Not a lot of labels explaining what you're looking at in any language.

Belgian chocolate is fine. Not bad, but I mean it's chocolate, that's hard to screw up, you know?

During my research before this trip I kept seeing a general consensus that Bruges is super touristy and sanitized and feels fake and that Ghent was better for a more "authentically" preserved medieval center. I'm glad I opted to go there instead because it exceeded my expectations. Awesome architecture everywhere you turn, way fewer crowds than I expected, and it still felt lived in by modern people rather than a giant open-air museum.

Literally did not see a single physical Euro at all on this trip. Both of these countries are entirely cashless societies, and everyone (both tourists and locals) used chip readers and contactless payment for damn near every interaction. If anything, I saw tons of "Card Only/No Cash" signs and none of the opposite.

[here-there-were-dragons]

eh, it's not really *changing* so much as people are just getting more skillfully passive-aggressive and oddly specific about it, and a lot of the people who were big on that sort of thing back then have since either threw a tantrum and left when the eye vials came back, left the game in general just because it was nearly 10 years ago, hoarded all the big-ticked items and got bored because they felt like there wasn't anything else to do anymore, felt like they won and so haven't thought about it in quite so explicit terms in awhile, have gotten bored with the idea and/or the game after it slowly became more and more the case that no one could afford to buy their Rare Collectibles tm anymore and the fever-pitch of "the final mandatory achievement to be a real fr player is to have all the sprites" culture and basically sprite collecting culture in general died off as a result, or have moved from exclusively that to being more interested in a more varied, subtle, and esoteric blend of ways to signal that they're a real, proper, acceptable player. it's a beast that's very much not dead, only lying in wait, and these people would absolutely groggily wake and come shrieking out of the woodwork anew at the mere suggestion of anything happening to one single fraction of a cent of the hypothetical resale value of their precious sprites that even they can't sell or buy anymore and no one but them even cares about ever since we all realized it was pointlessly impossible to even long-term goal for one.

The most frustrating part of the conversation about retired items is that the people who really want to push for more things to retire so that they'll "appreciate in value" don't seem to understand that if there isn't enough supply for the demand, it just means that no one gets anything.

It means that the player selling the Light Sprite for more than what my mortgage is worth...doesn't sell the Light Sprite, because most people can't fucking pay for it. And it means that players who want the Light Sprite can't have it because its only listing is beyond the definition of expensive, or that saving up for years is a race against other people trying to save up fast enough to buy it first. Either way, most players go without.

It means that, with enough retired items, you end up like GaiaOnline. Yeah, there's tons of limited items that may "appreciate in value" but the truth of that...is actually this:

Some of these items have been on my wishlist for a decade.

These items have no value because not enough of them even exist.

GaiaOnline used to be a place where "Questing" for an item was something that tons of people loved doing. Even I did it. I quested for a Fallen Wish back in the day, I quested for Inari's Beads, I quested for monthly collectibles every time one I liked dropped.

Now I'm not questing. Because the items I want simply don't circulate. This is what too many retired items does to an economy. I watched GaiaOnline die this way. Which is why I strongly oppose any retired items in any other site. Flight Rising doesn't need this.

[thejohnlockedfemboy]

Nothing Permanent But Change pt.5

[ tw for suggestive language and innuendos ]

Millen jerked awake to laughs ringing in his ears. His eyes were wide and still glazed from sleep, and he was so groggy that he couldn’t remember why he had oatmeal on his face and an empty cup of coffee drooping from his hand.

The morning filtered back to him in a rush.

*  *  *

He’d woken up at four in the morning due to the merciless pain in the base of his spine that told him it was going to rain later, and hadn’t been able to get back to sleep. At five-thirty, he’d gone with Gaz and been spared the laps as thunder split the sky with a rumbling crack, and as they watched lightning stab jagged forks into the distance, Millen coerced Gaz into ‘not risking it’ and instead just heading straight to the gym.

He acted as Gaz’s spotter for about forty minutes before Gaz switched to the treadmill instead and Millen went straight to the pull-up bar, which was one of the few exercises that actually made his back and knees feel better instead of worse.

“Goddamn, mate,” Gaz said, impressed as Millen switched to using one arm instead of two. “For a skinny guy, you do have some muscle mass.”

Millen shot him a droll look. “I love that nobody has any respect for superior officers here.”

Gaz barked out a laugh as the earth shook beneath the force of the storm outside the safe confines of the building. “You have to earn respect here. Didn’t Ghost tell you that upfront?”

“He told me a lot of things. I didn’t know what to believe.”

“Oh, Ghost never lies. Like, ever. He’s bluntly honest to a fault, so whatever he tells you, you can trust as the cold, hard truth.”

“Are he and MacTavish really… you know?”

Gaz groaned softly. “They keep me awake at night. The walls are thin.”

“Bloody hell.”

“I know, right? It’s like some romance novel type shit. Golden retriever meets black cat energy.”

Millen just stared blankly. “What does that mean?”

Gaz shot him a strange look. “It’s like an internet relationship trope thing. Mate, do you never get online?”

“I used to have a MySpace.”

“Jesus Christ, man. That site doesn’t even run anymore. Don’t you have, I dunno, Tumblr? Instagram? Anything?”

Millen just shrugged. “I don’t have any reason for it. Who do I have to talk to?”

Gaz sighed, running a hand over his buzzed hair. “It’s not about knowing people, it’s about meeting people. You could make a lifelong friend, or something.”

“I don’t need friends,” Millen said, almost petulantly.

“Introvert?” Gaz guessed. Millen muttered in agreement. Gaz nodded sagely. “Hey, no judgement. I’m an ambivert myself, but I get not wanting to be buddy-buddy with people right away.”

Millen hesitated, glancing up. Gaz caught his eye.

Millen felt a flush of something unexpected and hot. It was so sudden that it was gutting, in a way, and made his knees feel weak. He snapped his gaze away so forcefully that he stumbled back a bit.

Gaz reached out and gripped his bicep to steady him. “Woah, you solid?”

“I’m fine,” Millen said hoarsely. Gaz’s fingers encircling his arm felt like a brand. The brown-eyed sergeant was too close, and his blunt beta fangs were as white as ivory, glinting off the overhead lights. The fluorescent buzz droned in Millen’s skull and made the air between he and Gaz crackle with a static the xi didn’t understand.

The richness of cocoa overlaid the oceanic warmth of coconut that pumped out from Gaz’s neck glands was so lovely, so deep and soothing and familiar, a meal all in itself, a tantalizing delicacy that Millen longed to taste. He was about five seconds away from being seduced into flicking his tongue out in the air like a skink, just so the vomeronasal organ at the roof of his mouth could soak in every molecule of that blessed scent.

Millen was quite literally salivating and his rut had just hit him like a freight train.

Gaz’s eyes widened in understanding. “Oh, shit. You’re— yeah, okay. Come back to our quarters, I have some rut suppressants. It’s probably because of the Operipholomine.”

Millen was already panting. He pulled his shirt down to hide the obscene tenting in his trousers, so entirely mortified that he felt like he might faint. Gaz clasped him on the shoulder, carefully guiding him back towards the building they'd just come from. They got a bit wet, but to Millen’s immense relief, the icy rain shocked his system just enough for him to get his growing… situation under control. He gulped down a lungful of air, unseasonably cold and humid.

Gaz hurried him along to their shared quarters. Soap was still missing, apparently having spent the night with his lieutenant, for which Millen was thankful. He already wanted to fling himself from the nearest cliff to escape the terrible humiliation painting his cheeks cherry-red.

Gaz rifled through a few drawers before procuring a small bottle. He quickly tapped out a bright blue pill and pressed it into Millen’s hand, grabbing the staff sergeant’s Halo thermos from the nearby nightstand. “Here, mate,” Gaz said, his tone empathetic. “No need to be embarrassed, a’ight? Just biology.”

Millen’s hand shook with the devastatingly intense need coursing through him, but he managed to swallow the pill and stop to heave for breath again, his pupils blown wide. His fangs ached with the urge to bite, to claim, he needed to taste the perfumed blood and salty spend of an omega, wanted to pin a squirming body beneath him and ram his knot into a hole that would grip his length just right—

“I’m sorry,” Millen gasped out. “Fuck, this is… I hardly ever have ruts, and when I do, they aren’t— they aren’t like this. They’re dry, I just ignore it—“

“Well, that’s part of the problem,” Gaz exclaimed, shaking his head. “You’ve been screwing up your body's natural cycles by denying yourself release. Look, I’ll pop off to the hall for, say, ten minutes? Give you time to sort yourself—“ He shot a pointed look downwards, and Millen nearly moaned out loud. “—and then the suppressants should kick in, cut the rut off. Nip it in the bud, I always say. Sound good?”

“Better make it twenty minutes,” Millen replied hoarsely.

Gaz chuckled. “Can do. Just make sure you clean up any messes. Tissues are on the bookshelf.” He patted Millen companionably on the back and strode off towards the door. “I’ll lock the door behind me, just in case. Just keep the noise down. Remember, the walls are thin. If we can hear Soap and Ghost gettin’ in on, they can hear you crankin’ out a quick one. Ta!”

He inclined a wicked grin back towards the pathetically worked-up xi standing in the middle of the room, and then there was the snick of the lock and the door shut.

*  *  *

He’d wanked as quickly as he could, his release so explosive that he’d had to bite down on the meaty part of his palm to stifle his ragged cry of pleasure, his mind’s eye rolling wretched clips of half-imagined fantasies, things that Millen didn’t dare to let fully form, not after only a day and a half with his new team. The lingering traces of Gaz’s cocoa-coconut scent brought back a nearly-forgotten memory of Millen’s mãe and tias taking him to Mercado Municipal, the expansive open-air market at São Tomé, the neighboring island to his mother’s home of Príncipe. There had been so many bright colors and loud noises, the chatter of conversation, the loud, rhythmic ússua and dêxa dance music, and the thick heat and life of the crowds. Grey parrots had squawked loudly in vendor’s cages and the smell of roasting meat and grilled breadfruit blew in on the salty breeze, the taste starchy, brushed with garlicky oil that brought out the sweet nut undertones.

At the time, Millen had been barely more than a toddler, overwhelmed by the vibrant island life, the oxygen itself seeming saturated with centuries of rich culture, a blend of African, Portuguese, and European, all coming together to form the thrumming pulse below the ground. The island’s very heart pumped to the beat of the socopé percussion.

He’d not been back since. He almost regretted that.

After he had sated himself, Millen had quickly cleaned up and zipped up, already feeling the fiery burn in his blood abating thanks to the suppressant pills Gaz had given him.

He’d given himself another five minutes for the flush to his face to cool, and then had carefully smoothed down his overgrown curls and spritzed himself from a bottle of cologne he found sitting on Gaz’s desk, to try and cover up any leftover pheromones that might have permeated his clothes.

Inhale. Exhale.

He reassured himself that he was presentable and ready to reface the world. He was confident that Gaz would never make any mention of the past half hour to anyone, and the entire thing could be forgotten within a week. Like the beta had said, it was just biology.

*  *  *

Which is how Millen then found himself asleep at the breakfast table, listening to Soap snickering at his expense.

Because, apparently, his body wasn’t too happy about being pumped full of artificial chemicals yet again, and had decided that the best way to naturally reset his internal workings was to have Millen conk out into a near-comatose sleep. The team hadn’t even noticed, since the xi had already secured a reputation as being “the quiet bloke.”

“Y’ were dead to the world f’ a bit there,” Ghost remarked dryly, his mask forgone in favor of a plain black balaclava, which he had pushed up so he could sip from a mug of tea. His exposed skin was as pale as one of those salamanders that had evolved over a millennia to live in cave systems. He probably saw about as much sun as one. A puffy pink scar scored deep into his flesh, splitting his lip and disappearing up under the balaclava’s tight-weave compression fabric. He was missing a few teeth— most noticeably, one of his alphan incisors, leaving a wide, gummy gap. Perhaps that had contributed to his san dynamic.

Soap tossed Millen a napkin. “Ye ha’ a wee sumthin…” He gestured to his own face, struggling to hold back another bout of laughter. “Right there.”

Millen quickly wiped the oatmeal from his face and silently prayed to whatever god whose domain it was to prevent soldiers from being given a callsign based upon falling asleep in a bowl of porridge.

He glanced around the table, still a bit bleary. “Where’s the captain and Roach?”

Soap paused in his chugging of a carton of chocolate milk to answer. “Captain’s taking care of Roach’s heat.”

Millen’s mouth opened into a small, perfect ‘o.’ He had been under the impression that Roach would be set up in one of the isolation rooms, where he’d be locked safely away from any alphas, able to ride out his heat in privatized comfort. “Oh… th— the captain is—?”

“Yeah, he handles Roach,” Gaz chimed in.

“But I thought that he and you were…”

“We are.” Gaz crunched down on a piece of slightly overdone toast. “But that doesn’t mean he can’t help out our omega. We aren’t strictly monogamous.”

Millen hesitated. “Which… means?”

“It means that Price can have fun with Roach, and if I see a pretty bird at a pub, I can go back to her hotel and spend the night.”

“But doesn’t that mess up your relationship?”

Gaz shook his head. “Nah, not at all. It keeps things lively, and I know who I belong to, when it really comes down to it. I’ll always come back to Price, and he always has a spot on his bed cleared for me.”

“Huh…” Millen thought on this for a moment. “That’s… nice. I didn’t know people could do that.”

“You’ve got a lot to learn about being part of a pack,” Gaz chuckled. “But, yeah, it’s a good thing we have going. Price is good to me.”

Millen prodded his spoon at his bowl of now-cold oatmeal. He glanced over at Soap and Ghost. The two of them smelled like each other.

“So, so the two of you have the same kind of… arrangement?”

Ghost rumbled warningly. Millen immediately regretted asking, realizing that the question had been too toward and it was none of his business.

Soap, however, seemed happy to answer. “Nae, me’n the L.t. a’ off the market. The spooky bastard would kill anybody that dare tae even glisk a’ me.”

“That’s because y’ mine,” Ghost said sharply, possessive anger burning in his bloodshot hazel eyes. “You ever get any ideas otherwise, and I’ll make damn sure y’ remembering your place, MacTavish.”

“Yeah, yeah, underneath ye,” Soap said, rolling his eyes. His Scottish brogue was even rougher in the morning. “Calm ye tits, Simon. Ah’d ne’re even think o’ lettin’ anybody but ye poke me fud. Ah swear, ye gantin f’ me.”

“English, Johnny,” Ghost grunted.

“Ach, awa’ an’ boil ye heid.” Soap waved a hand in Ghost’s general direction. “Crabbit randie.”

Millen looked to Gaz for a translation, but the beta just shrugged. “We can’t understand him half the time, mate. You’re as lost as I am.”

“Aw, ye all numpties,” Soap grumbled. “Fookin’ Brits.”

Ghost gave the sergeant a cuff over the head. “Language. Won’t abide that kind of talk at the table.”

Soap looked up at him incredulously. “Ha’ off it, Si, ye mouth is jus’ as clatty as mine.”

“Negative. Behave yourself.”

Soap poked out his tongue, which earned him another thwack. It all seemed to be in good nature, since Soap’s pheromones never soured in fear, and while Ghost had no scent at all, there was a smirk upon his lips. The love ( mixed with just the right amount of annoyance ) between them was undeniable.

Millen couldn’t imagine being so comfortable with the large lieutenant, who could easily crush any one of them in one fist. A lump caught in the xi’s throat, and he recognized it as a dreadful longing. What would it be like to be so connected to another? A packmark was foreign enough to him, but a mating bond was another thing entirely. The thought of a person being adjunct to his own character was terrifying, to know that they would be able to sense the emotions which he so carefully schooled into rigid conformity. All his sickest desires and most outlandish fears would be laid bare. Any potential mate would run at the first vague sense of his internal turmoils, he was certain of it.

It was better this way. To be apart. When Millen was alone, he was protected from everything but his own head. Admittedly, that was a formidable enemy all in itself, but he had learned to live with the constant clamor inside his skull, the deprecations that prodded at the sorest spots of his self-image.

But at least only he was privy to his own struggles. Never would he allow someone to get a sense of who was, when all the fundamentals of societal expectation had been stripped away and all that remained was the scar tissue at his very core. Something important inside of him had died, and the phoenix of his new atman had rose from the carcass of what once was, a mangled tatter of feathers that lacked its former glory, a mockery of the grinning young man in his boot camp graduation photo.

Millen silently excused himself while Soap and Ghost were busy bantering, and Gaz was occupied with his food. He ignored a few of the more friendly fellows who waved at him or offered greetings.

It was better this way. Wasn’t it?

[echo-goes-mmm]

Silas and Wren #1

Masterpost

Next

Warnings: slavery, implied past non-con, blood

Silas strolled through the markets. He didn’t venture out into human areas often, but their shopping district didn’t seem that different from his own. Aside from the goods, of course.

He did receive a few looks, but most people left him alone. It was probably just because he was overdressed. Unlike some of his kin, he could pass pretty well. Not that it really mattered; there hadn’t been a conflict between vampires and their counterparts for millennia.

The market was flooded with smells and scents foreign to him. There was all sorts of human food stalls, and some of them intrigued him. But there was no point in wasting money on things he could only taste and would make him nauseous later. Besides, that wasn’t what he was here for.

Silas went deeper into the crowds, breathing in deep. He had eaten before leaving the house so the scent of food wouldn’t distract him from his goal.

Vampires got their blood by paying humans high wages and other riches to donate often. No vampire had gone hungry in ages, and no human had ever been forced for just as long. He heard that humans often sold blood to pay for colleges and houses. Fair was fair. It wasn’t like those nasty cow farms he’d passed on the way over.

Vampires did not keep slaves, but humans did. And Silas was a bit lonely. A companion that could talk and think would be welcome. It was just a bonus if they also tasted nice. A little desert all to himself after monotonous meals. And he’d be rescuing them from slavery, treating them well like their human masters didn’t. Surely that would be a handsome enough reward.

He smelled the slavehouse before he saw it. Despair and dread filtered towards him, as strong as any rancid perfume. It disturbed him to be able to smell such a thing. He usually had no scent indication of emotion.

The building was large, and sounded busy. Chatter and the sound of iron against stone reached his ears. 

A salesperson met him at the door. 

“Hello, sir! What can I help you with today?” Silas smiled back at him, as was polite, and he glanced towards his teeth. But the salesperson did not seem perturbed.

“I’m looking for a companion,” he said. 

“Certainly, any gender or sex preferences?” Silas hadn’t thought of that. In all his research about caring for a human, he didn’t consider gender. Maybe he’d relate more to a man?

“Male, please.”

“Right this way, sir.” The salesman led him through the warehouse, passing by rows of chained slaves. They seemed organized by category of work, then gender. Interesting.

“Forgive me,” said the man, “but I wasn’t aware vampires had slaves. I don’t mean to imply anything untoward of course.”

“We don’t.” It was illegal to enslave another vampire, but that was where the law ended. Human slavery was an ancient practice. It simply wasn’t done anymore. His kin would look down on him for buying a human, but Silas didn’t care anymore. They looked down on him anyway.

“I see. Well, here is our lovely collection of bedfellows. I’m sure one will be to your taste- preference.” Silas’s stomach turned icy. He hadn’t meant sexual companionship. He scanned the row of slaves, all of them chained to the floor by the ankle. They looked miserable. The smell of fear was at its peak here in this awful section.

Now that he thought about it, maybe this was for the best. One less person stuck in sexual slavery. Now who would he buy?

Slowly, he made his way down the line of men. They all had different appearances, clearly meant to “appeal” to different people. But it didn’t matter how they looked, Silas was interested in the scent of their blood. It was only fair, he couldn’t buy all of them. His pockets were deep, but having more than one human would be arduous.

___________________

This buyer looked different. Strange. He couldn’t place it until he saw the flash of the man’s fangs. A vampire. He’d never heard of a vampire owning anybody. Not that he heard much about vampires, even through the slave gossip lines. He’d have to ask around once he was gone.

He was acting strange too. Getting close to everyone, but instead of looking and touching he was smelling. 

___________________

None of them smelled particularly appealing, until he came to the end of the row. This one was small and looked incredibly tired for a young adult. He couldn’t estimate human years, but he seemed to be the same ‘age’ as himself. 

And he smelled delightful, aside from the despair. But there was only one way to be sure he tasted as good as he smelled.

He bent down and murmured to the slave. “Just relax. This won’t hurt, I promise.”

The slave looked up at him, his honey-brown eyes wide.

“Would you mind if I took a sample?” the salesperson hesitated. “Just a taste,” he reassured him. “Not even an ounce.”

“Well… I suppose that would be alright.”

___________________

Oh god. The vampire was going to drink from him. 

Please don’t let it hurt. Please, god. 

The vampire cupped his cheek and gently tilted his head to expose his neck. He screwed his eyes shut.

“Relax,” said the vampire, and he tried his best. The vampire kissed his neck, a mere brush of his soft lips, and he felt a strange tingling sensation on the little patch of skin. He felt the vampire’s warm breath, and then what was surely the tips of his fangs.

But instead of a stabbing pain, he only felt a mild pressure. A slight tug and some trickling warmth told him he had, in fact, been bitten. The vampire was telling the truth, it didn’t hurt. 

___________________

His blood was even better than Silas could have guessed. Deep and rich, with a hint of sweetness. Utterly delicious. Silas wouldn’t drink from him often, of course. His blood was too rich to eat on it regularly, and It would make the boy sick. But this was a treat he could look forward to. And if this was how good he was mistreated, how amazing would he be healthy?

He kissed the wound closed, and wiped away the excess drops from the slave’s neck. 

“I’ll take this one.”

[rafesdinner]

──── RUN, BABY, RUN

RUN FOR YOUR LIFE . . .

previous. masterlist. next.

𓆩♡𓆪 a scream!obx au !

𓆩♡𓆪 content warnings ! [ blood, gore, scream canon typical violence, slashers, paranoia, murder, manipulation, just in general all things slasher movie vibes, original characters ]

── oo. the beginning of the end !

The police had solved the case. The mysterious murders that burdened the small town of Fallenridge with a cheap halloween costume had come to the final show. The culprits? A rich playboy who never grew out of his high school glory. His right-hand-man was his high school best friend.

Finally, after weeks of torture and gruesome murders, the case had been cracked. With a few assumptions and some prior domestic disputes, they made their way to the house of the playboy's former wife.

What they found would haunt the officers for years to come. The ex-wife lying on the floor, one arm around her screaming toddler, pool of blood encasing her like a twisted bubble.

Her eyes were open, but lifeless. Somehow, even in her final moments, she'd managed to keep her child close. Her toddler clung to her, screaming as tears streamed down her face. Blood splatters were everywhere, all over her pretty pink nighties.

That child's name, much like her past, were crucial parts of this story. In the years to come, her name would get lost in translation, hidden by sealed records and privacy concerns.

But sealed records couldn't block her trauma from herself, and Adelaide Manson would forever know what her family named really entailed.

𓆩♡𓆪

The sun was beating down at what would be an unbearable heat if it wasn't for the breeze. Adelaide's suitcase came to a stop with her, and she sighed as she looked around her new home. It was unfurnished, but it was home now. She tried to see the positive aspects. 

She wrapped her hair up in a bun, beads of sweat at the nape of her neck. "Well, here goes nothing," she mumbled, starting to get unpacking.

It took a few hours, but finally, she was done. She didn't have much, and she still didn't have furniture besides an air mattress, but she was content. The Outer Banks, far away from everything she needed to run from.

She'd managed to get a nice house on a nice part of town, just shy of the tourist attractions. That's where she liked it. Where police patrolled and there was less crime. Well, hopefully. She knew rich people were just as criminal, if not more, than poor people.

But, a girl could dream.

After spending hours in the house, she decided to go to the local restaurant to get some much needed food. Named The Wreck, it was on the edge of the tourist part of town, near the opposite side of town from Adelaide.

She sighed as she sat at a table, waiting for her food. Her leg bounced up and down, a tic she's had for years. Really, forever. Her attention came back when two people walked up to her. They both smiled kindly at her, and she smiled back.

"Hey, I'm Rafe," the man introduced.

"I'm Sarah," the woman introduced herself next.

"You must be new, never seen you before," Rafe said.

Adelaide nodded. "Yeah- yeah, I'm Adelaide," she replied softly, leg still bouncing.

He smiled, nodding. "Well, welcome to the Outer Banks."

( dividers by @saradika-graphics , @anitalenia ) (filter by ryooncodes on polarr)

[kalevalakryze]

The Seeds We Sow

The fic + art collaboration Art completed by @mirandemia for the @ahsokaevents Wildflowers collab! Find it on AO3!

Sabine Wren + Ahsoka Tano The soil was warm under her hands; Freshly turned and clumpy where she uncovered it from the ashen tones of the earth. “Life finds a way.” Ahsoka had told her upon setting out on this task. The water source wasn’t too far away, a still pool with sediment floating in the murky water. 

“We can get this cleaned up, can’t we Asha?” She called to the howler, snuffling through a patch of stubbornly prevailing grass nearby. She did not receive any response from the peculiar creature, though it was nice to have her to bounce ideas off of. 

The Noti had given her the scraps from an older trawler, dragged each time they moved to limit waste, carrying broken vaporators, gears, and even old power packs to blasters that must have been acquired from Thrawn’s troopers. At least she didn’t need to lug it too much further than their current campsite to get it near the water supply.  “Let’s see what we can do,” The Mandalorian talked aloud, boots crunching over the crumbling outer layer of the planet’s crust. 

First, Sabine grabbed old pipes from blown cooling systems, using her hands to dig out four long rows in the dirt, exposing nutrient-rich soil to the sunlight above. “Bet you guys missed the sun just as much as I do,” She chuckled warmly to a squirming lifeform. “You kinda look like an exogorth. Can I call you Exo?” The pad of her thumb brushed along the sliminess of the creature's side, laughing warmly to herself when it squiggled away. “Alright, Exo. I’m sorry I gotta move you, but hey, you keep pests away from my seeds, and this can be a mutually beneficial arrangement, got it?” 

The creature was set inside of a pile of upturned dirt, where it happily burrowed itself to be rid of the humanoid that dared interrupt its rest. 

Building the irrigation system was nothing new to Sabine Wren; In fact, it was something she understood almost as well as mixing her explosive paints. Back when rebel holdouts needed crops, she was often the one counted on to help them get started, and it was always something that helped her feel useful. 

A Mandalorian could destroy, and conquer, and a million other destructive things, but she was put in this Galaxy for more than that. She created, and saved, she strived every day for as long as she could remember to embrace her Mandalorian heritage, to be everything her ancestors could have wanted, and then some. 

It was through her continued work every day that she honored the patron of her House, Tarre Vizsla, it was through her dedication to her people that honored her Clan and the lives they’d once lived, and it was her determination that honored the Rebellion she’d spent so long fighting for. Everything she did was for her family, and right now? That family was found in Ahsoka and the Noti. 

Her purification system was simple in design, and it required the sacrifice of a power pack from her blaster to generate enough of a spark to keep the miniature solar array working. She could return with a new source for it one day, for when the sun grew dim and the gears needed to turn. For now, the blaster she’d painted in the blues of reliability and royalty was dismantled under a caring hand and slotted into the home of the system. 

Clean water trickled slowly with a quiet whir of machinery, sucking the water through and filtering out sediment as it pushed along the rows of water she’d dug out. “Hey, we did it,” She called to Asha, now dozing lazily in her interesting patch of grass. “Thanks,” She laughed, bubbling like the carbonation in The Outlander Club’s specialty beverage, warmed by the lull of a punk tongue hanging lazily past yellowed canines. 

With dampened soil, Sabine was able to meticulously lay each seed; They were from her Galaxy, so there was no telling if they would take to their new home, but she had hope, and she’d learned long ago just how far a little hope could stretch. Then, the compost that had been saved up was spread evenly over the rows, pressed in lightly to allow for the sprouts to push past without much resistance, though would not risk being washed away when the drought on this side of the planet would end at last. 

“You’ve done well,” Ahsoka’s voice was warm; Lighter than she was used to, over the course of her previous apprenticeship, that is. 

“Yeah? You think so?” The Mandalorian questioned genuinely from her spot knelt in the dirt, mud caked her armor and her flight suit, and streaks painted her face and dirtied her hair. The purple-haired woman turned her head to watch as Ahsoka dismounted her howler, allowing it to trundle to Asha’s lazy form. “I do,” The hand on her shoulder was warm. Sabine allowed the offered strength to rise from her knelt position. “Lunch is ready back at camp, you look like you could use it,” The jab was light, bouncing off her armor with a light chuckle. 

“You’re tellin’ me… Think everything will be safe here?” 

Ahsoka’s gaze turned to the horizon, searching. When she shook her head in the affirmative, Sabine’s shoulders relaxed. “Do you think they’re okay…” She questioned after a moment. 

It didn’t take a genius to understand who she was asking after. “Shin will be alright, I’m sure of it. Baylan… worries me, he’s treading a dangerous path, one we will have to follow, sooner than later.” 

As the Master and Apprentice rode their howlers the short distance back to camp, Sabine’s fingers threaded through the thick, dark wool of Asha’s neck. “Thanks,” 

Ahsoka’s head bowed towards her. She could have kept the thoughts to herself, as she’d once had. But even Ahsoka Tano learned when it was time to truly be more than the people who’d trained you. Where Obi-Wan and Anakin may have kept themselves quiet, she was determined to break the cycle.  Shin Hati

Communication with the bandits was slow. Truly, Shin had heard of droids learning and adapting better than this sorry lot. All she received from them were grunts, either of indignation, or approval, she could only tell after they’d begun moving, either to follow her orders or to blatantly ignore them. 

The most recent act of ignorance from the clan found Shin stubbornly figuring out ways to feed them all. They’d seemed unbothered by the prospect that they could go hungry, as if they could pillage their way across Peridea; and maybe they could have, if not for the Jedi and Sabine protecting their favorite victims now. Shin knew better than to allow themselves to march into that camp, she knew what the Torguta and Mandalorian were capable of. 

Chasing away the nomads that had settled in this desolate canyon had been simple, natural, even. The moment they saw a blood-orange blade on the horizon, and saw the sun glinting off the worn paint of her bandit’s heads, most were intelligent enough to turn tail. It had even stocked them up with enough supplies to last until… well… Until what, Shin wasn’t sure yet, but they’d be damned if they didn’t figure it out soon. 

There was a water source nearby, old, rickety purifiers ran as they refilled the jugs as fast as her men could deplete them. They also noticed a raised bed of soil, something she didn’t see often in the wastes like this. There were no seeds nearby, though she could see plants sprouting from a host nearby. 

Eyes as dreary as their landscape peered around the supplies that had been left. This was new, but they had always been a resourceful student. If taking lives was so natural, then surely they would be able to sustain it, especially in the most non-sentient way life existed.

The soil had been freshly turned, Shin learned as their fingers delved into the raised garden bed. The travelers had been planning on making this place their home for the season as well. No matter, it was Shin’s people who were victorious in the end, and they would reap the profits of prior labors… and Shin’s own. 

Dirt spilled into the many tears in their gloves, worn from the months of use and with no true materials to repair them. The pebbles were harsh, though their skin was learning to grow harsher. Eventually, the tanned gorraslug material was set aside, resting precariously on a wooden support, allowing them to dig deeper, pushing grime up under their fingernails as they worked to bury the remains of the food supply. 

Plasto pails sat near the purifiers, and it was just Shin’s luck that the first pail they filled with water would crack under the unforgiving weight as it was filled to the brim. “Karabast!” They growled at the remains of the bucket, water soaking their boots and turning the ground at their feet into sloshing mud. 

The Force, a fickle ally, refused to answer their call in their growing frustrations; Even as they attempted to channel their annoyance into the pressure of water, thin plasto, and the space they wanted to create between it and the ground. 

Huffing and puffing, Shin found themselves resorting to other means; A spear was sent between the weak metal handles of the pail, allowing her the leverage to lift it, keeping it balanced on her shoulder with minimal spillage as she lugged it to the beds, cursing the whole way. 

By the time each sprout had a home in the dirt, Shin’s hands, tunic, and face were streaked with mud, sweat cutting tracks through the grime as they sat back against a boulder to admire their work. A bandit passed by them, Shin watched with narrowed eyes as they paused at her work. 

No words were spoken between them as they turned back to look at the filthy blonde, though Shin had felt the understanding in the nod of their head. A dented canteen was removed from their hip and passed nonchalantly to her on their way back to sorting through their treasures of the raid. 

The sinking of the sun was met with a wet nose sniffling at long-dry boots, a dirty white howler in search of food. With her fingers carding through the soft fur at its neck, Shin rose at last, acquiescent to find the poor beast something to eat, and with a rumbling of her own stomach, something for herself as well. 

Ezra Bridger Krownest had always been cold, but if there was anything Ezra Bridger had learned in his short experiences with Clan Wren, it was the planet's unique ability to nurture all kinds of life. 

This was why, as the Ghost touched down on a desolate surface, and no gruff voices came over their comms to demand clearance, Ezra felt the loss of those unique lives as distinctly as he had. The Jedi paused in the entryway, boot hovering just over the ramp. “Ezra?” Hera called, a gloved hand coming to rest on his shoulder. 

A deep breath and a warm smile recentered him as he used the familiar touch on his shoulder to ground himself. “I’m alright… It’s just hard not to notice…” 

Hera’s head dipped in understanding; She hadn’t made the venture yet, had been waiting on Sabine’s word to visit with the heir, the day had never come, until Ezra voiced his desire to do something for her family. “We’ll be right here with you,” She promised, glancing away from Ezra to peek down at Jacen, bundled up and standing by her side, with Chopper rolling just behind them once they began walking. 

The Wren stronghold was dark and untouched, mountains of snow coated the roof, while dangerous icicles hung dangerously along the large transparisteel windows. “Do you think it’ll grow here?” Jacen asked as the toe of his boot caught on a  patch of slippery ice. . 

“Yeah, ‘course,” Ezra mused out loud as he knelt near one of the windows. Peering through the dust, he could see the inside of the throne room, dark and desolate, with cobwebs hanging across each surface. The light that managed to cut through the grime still found a way to cast across the painting of the Matriarch of Clan Wren, lighting yellow and grey armor up in an effect that made them glow gold and silver. 

“Do you remember how it went?” Ezra questioned, unblinking from his sight against the glass, catching the barest reflection of his own eyes back at him. 

“Never did manage Mando’a,” Hera admitted, lowering herself into the snow beside him, allowing Jacen to tuck himself against her once more as she settled. He’d known Ursa, though Hera doubted he would have much memories of them, not with the separate wars they found themselves fighting as Sabine focused on finding Ezra. 

“Basic should be fine… It’s the memory that counts, right?” He tried to keep his tone light, tried to keep the calmness steady, though the emptiness seemed to echo the way his words caught around the tightness in his throat. Addam’s apple bobbing, he nodded his head towards the snow, beginning the process of clearing away the piles to the frozen earth underneath. 

They did not have every name of every warrior lost, and Ezra found himself regretting this, too naive and headstrong, too worried about the fight than the lives of the people he’d fought beside. He would return, when the seasons changed, when Sabine came out. She could tell them their names, and they would plant flowers for them as well, as a family again. 

The ground was frozen and solid, though after a while of digging and chipping away, he’d been successful in clearing three small holes. “Vormur can grow through anything,” He assured himself as he retrieved a small duracrete container, filled to the brim with dirt from Lothal, soft enough to cover the tops and hopefully prevent them from freezing over. “They’re Mandalorian, you know” A foreboding gaze was sent to the portain through the windows before he dropped a seed in each hole. Hera stayed silent, for him, for Sabine and Ahsoka, and for Clan Wren itself. 

“Jace, you wanna cover this up, for aunt ‘bine?” He offered, leaning back as he cleared his throat, hiding a sniffle as he wiped the rough nylon material of his sleeve under his nose. Small knees shuffled through the dirt as the boy inched closer, mittens sweeping through the uncovered dirt to start brushing it to the small array of flowers. “These smell really nice,” He commented as he worked, taking a big sniff as the dirt began to settle. “Aunt Sabine will really like this when she comes back-” The young Force-Sensitive boy paused then, fingers curling in his mittens as his brows drew together. “If she ever comes back…. Here, i mean.” He was quick to correct; No one aired their thoughts about the possibility of Sabine and Ahsoka’s return, not when Ezra himself had been gone so long. 

“Well, when she hears about all our hard work… I’m sure she will,” Hera’s hand brushed over Jacen’s head, pulling the wool hat on his head askew. Final preparations were made to keep the flowers healthy and strong from the climate. Just as the sun began to crest the mountains, pink and golden light splashing across the grey landscape of the frozen lake. Before they could leave, the Rebels settled back in one last time, peering through dust covered windows at the haunting silhouette of the Countess of Krownest one last time. “Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum, Clan Wren.” Their Mando’a was rough and heavily accented, but the words seemed to release some of the weight on their shoulders, allowing them to return to their new war with a lighter conscience. 

[areyoudreaminof]

Moon on a String: A Lucien Vanserra Playlist

Here it is! A playlist for our sly fox, courtier, and emissary. Apart from being one of the most interesting characters in ACOTAR, Lucien is one of the most emotionally well rounded ones. I wanted to explore his wit and charm, as well as his own grief and sorrow. As always, meet me behind the cut for a lyrical deep dive! Listen Along Here!

Son My Son-Milo Greene

Son, my son The weight is unique One by one The words are complete Your testing is calling And we are still falling For keeps

Your waltz like repeating Continues your dreaming In threes You will bury that hatchet with an olive branch Tied to your knee

Habibi-Tamino

And as the full star tries his best to make the white pearl shine Glances of a new day have arrived And though he’s not alone, he fears to never love another And leave his heart forever with her smile

Something died within a soul Left the eyes to rust And every time it is recalled It covers all in dust

Bad Bad News-Leon Bridges

Ain’t got no riches, ain’t got no money that runs long But I got a heart that’s strong and a love that’s tall Ain’t got no name, ain’t got no fancy education But I can see right through, a powdered face on a painted fool

They tell me I was born to lose But I made a good good thing out of bad bad news

Young Man in America-Anais Mitchell

Like the wind I make my moan, I howl in the canyon There's a hollow in my bones, makin' me cry and carry on Make the foam fly from my tongue, make me want what I want Another wayward son waitin' on oblivion Waitin' on the kingdom come to meet me in my sin Waitin' to be born again, mother, kiss me cheek and chin Mmm, a little medicine, mmm, and I shed my skin Mmm, and lemme climb back in the bed you made me in

Old Friend-Sea Wolf

But now we're getting older and we're growing up So now less action in the water and we know enough Stood up on the rooftop on a night so clear That the lights from the city just disappeared

I know you don't believe me When I believe in you I know it could get much easier If you want it to

Late Night-Foals

Now I'm the last cowboy in this town Empty veins and my plastic broken crown They said I swam the seas then ran aground They said I once was lost but now I'm truly found And I know the place but not the way I feel, I feel no shame Oh now, Mama, do you hear my fear? It's coming after me

Beggin' for Thread-BANKS

So I got edges that scratch And sometimes, I don't got a filter But I'm so tired of eating All of my misspoken words I know my disposition gets confusing My disproportionate reactions fuse with my eager state That’s why you wanna come out and play with me, yeah

Turn Away-Beck

Turn Turn away From the weight of your own words It's a measure For the devil And betrays the lack of change Once you have spoken Turn away

Sun-Cat Power

Here it comes, here it comes, in all is burning Here it comes, here it comes, it’s splitting the bone Here it comes, here it comes, we’re all so tired of waiting Whose side, whose side are you on

I wanna hear every answer to every question It’s not that I never wanted, I just never knew If you can, if you could lend your hand This is the day people like we’ve been waiting for

Gold-Chet Faker

I might as well be in a garden I said, uh, a smell in the air is a dripping rose (You can be the one for me) Another soul to be my void then Of anything there that's made of gold

Call Me in the Afternoon-Half Moon Run

Take one if you need it but you really shouldn't be out this late Really wanna make you feel home Take one if you need it but you really shouldn't get this fucked up Really wanna get it to you Slide another shot by and wipe your dirty hands on me Swallow till you go blind and find a little company

Autumn Tree-Milo Greene

A man that resembles me Watching his young lady sleep Now I'm off to dream Comfort me

Is this my old shame? My mind is away How long have you been gone? The cold winter aged the soft of your face And I can't move on

River-Ibeyi

Carry away my dead leaves Let me baptize my soul with the help of your waters Sink my pains and complains Let the river take them, river drown them My ego and my blame Let me baptize my soul with the help of your waters Those old mes, so ashamed Let the river take them, river drown them

You Wanna Freak Out-My Morning Jacket

Play it smart, soul intact How you react is what you get back 'Cause that's the way we really see I am "you're" and "you're" is me Come on, you know how we are First we're up, up, down, down One day we're in, the next one we're out You wanna freak out? Come on

Don't Carry It All-The Decemberists

And there a wreath of trillium and ivy Laid upon the body of a boy Lazy will the loam come from its hiding Return this quiet searcher to the soil

So raise a glass to turnings of the season And watch it as it arcs towards the sun And you must bear your neighbor's burden within reason And your labors will be borne when all is done

No One's Here to Sleep-Naughty Boy/Bastille

You were always faster than me I'll never catch up with you, with you Oh I can feel them coming for me And you were always faster than me I'll never catch up with you, with you Oh I can feel them coming for me

Here's the pride before the fall Oh, your eyes, they show it all I can see it coming I can see it coming As I rise up through each floor Shit gets dark and you lose it all I can hear it coming I can hear the drumming

taglist: @cursebrkr, @octobers-veryown, @melting-houses-of-gold, @velidewrites, @reverie-tales, @thesistersarcheron @ultadverb, @c-e-d-dreamer, @andrigyn, @foundress0fnothing, @vulpes-fennec ,@asnowfern,@mossytrashcan, @thelovelymadone, @the-lonelybarricade, @shadowriel, @separatist-apologist , @fieldofdaisiies, @stickyelectrons, @vanserrass, @panicatthenightcourt, @krem-does-stuff, @iftheshoef1tz, @damedechance, @ablogofbipanic

Up Next: Rhysand. Happy Weekend!

[sergeantnarwhalwrites]

Green and Donnie Snippet

A passing thought. Interactions between these two is probably a damn mess. I haven't wrote anything Robots & Gardens in a minute so whoops. Kinda struggling to write these two 😅.

Tag list: @outpost51 @nanashi23 @winterandwords @jezifster @kk7-rbs @aether-wasteland-s @dumbthunder @manathen @the-void-writes @livums @vacantgodling (Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist!) 

Green twirled the knife in her hand, tapping her foot. The plush ground of the security office dampening the sound. She tried not to laugh at the cyborg in front of her. More robot than man. She'd try to pick him apart but the brawler was good at distraction, even if it was unintentional. Her eyes found themselves following the blue glow of veins and the peak of tech through falling off artificial skin.

"I'm not a fan of the drug traffickin' and passin' it around thing. Too gritty of a scene for me." Green looked up at them, crooked smile sneaking onto her face.

Donnie moved his fingers over the holo keyboard over his forearm. They picked at the false skin on their collarbone, sliding a skilled finger across exposed tech there. Transferring their words to the criminal for hire's glasses that both were very aware she stolen or modified. Donnie assumed it was both. Eyes narrowed to angry slits at Green's nonchalance.

"You kill people," Green read aloud, eyes darting back and forth behind the tinted lenses, "Only if the money's right." She answered.

Donnie visibly relaxed, eyebrows shooting up. They pointed at Green's mouth. Green took the hint and put her knife in the holster at her side. Her eyes scanned them up and down thinking how to explain.

"I'll speak. Only if you can keep the cops off Peace's protestors tomorrow."

Donnie was skeptical. Green couldn't see it as much as she could feel it. She unbuttoned her shirt enough to slip her hand inside her bra. Fishing out a couple of sweaty bills. Donnie could recognize the fluorescent band across them as the big bucks.

"I don't need it." They typed.

"Most people would've loved titty money. It ain't fake either. Would've heard about another dead body if it was." Green folded the bills over once more and forced it into Donnie's hand, "Get yourself fixed up, you look scary as hell."

Donnie looked down at himself, with a sag in their shoulders. Just the sight of metal tethered to actual flesh sending a jolt of pain through him. They grit their teeth and crumped the bills in their fist. Green figured she had picked at an unknown insecurity.

She sat in one of the open chairs, unbothered by the creak, "Sit down. I'll talk."

Donnie sighed nasally and sat in a chair across from her. Chair squealing from the way he threw himself into it.

"Before we talk about the people funding you to fuck around. Why do you need my help protecting protesters?"

"I don't like to openly interfere with protestor business. And Peace can handle herself, she can and will beat my ass, she plans things decently. The calls I've gotten since the rich fuck on the news decided to ruin lives are..." Green trailed off for a moment feeling she had spoken too much already, "Worryin'. A lot more modded voices lately too."

Donnie rested his head on his shoulder, "Modded voices?"

Green's eyes scanned the words, pulling the glasses up onto her forehead briefly, "Using AI or voice filters to change how their voice sounds. It's usual to see a few, but this isn't normal."

Donnie nodded. It would make sense to try to hide your identity but he had wondered just what kind of requests made the criminal for hire so uneasy. So he asked.

Green rolled her eyes immediately, drawing her knife, "Some secrecy is a bit of a good thing, I think." She was sure that Donnie's eyes caught site of the blade. It hadn't been cleaned yet.

Donnie quickly decided not to press her on the matter.

[downwiththeficness]

The Usurper-Chapter Twenty Three

Summary: Lilah McNamara stole things for a living. It was tedious work and often dangerous, which made it just exciting enough to keep her interested. After botching a routine job, Lilah finds herself standing amid monsters. Wholly unprepared for the horror of living under Amaru’s reign, Lilah decides to use her well honed skills to thwart the queen’s plans and prevent the end of the world.

Word Count: ~4,100

Disclaimer: I do not consent to this work being copied or posted to other sites of blogs.

Start at the Beginning Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Read on AO3 Masterlist

“McNamara online.”

Lilah settled onto the floor of a van with three laptops open in front of her. One to monitor the cameras in the casino, one to monitor the card game, and one to run the probability program. Nearby, an external battery hummed away, ensuring that she never lost power. Lilah peered at the screens, checking and double checking that the feeds were live. In one, Seth was staring at his reflection in the mirror. She watched him adjust and readjust the bollo tie with an irritated grimace on his face.

She tapped the mute key, “Stop fucking around with it.”

Seth flinched, then caught himself, “This is stupid. They’re going to know.”

“They’re only going to know if you keep fucking with it.”

“I look like a dork.”

“You are a dork,” Lilah said. “You just don’t know it.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

“Fuck you, too. Now, quit messing with it.” Lilah tapped the mute key again and searched the screens for Richie. She wasn’t surprised that she didn’t find him. His part wouldn’t come for an hour or two yet and he’d mentioned getting a meal in before taking his place.

The hair on the back of her neck lifted a fraction of a second before something warm pressed against her skin. Lilah whirled around to find no one and nothing behind her. She held still for a few seconds, holding her breath. When Lilah was sure that she was alone, she exhaled slowly and returned her attention to the screens. That was happening a lot lately. A feeling that someone was nearby. Heat wafting from somewhere unseen. There was never anything or anyone standing beside her and it was starting to freak her out.

Focus on the job, she reminded herself. They were minutes away from figuring out if Seth’s undeniable charm was going to get him into the game. He was making his way across the casino floor towards the back room. Lilah watched him walk through the lens of the camera, feeling vaguely seasick. She switched to the casino security feed. Ambient noise filtered into the microphone in his glasses. People were talking and there was some kind of vague rock music playing. Staff walked around with trays of drinks and the occasional appetizer. Not a soul suspected anything was going to happen that night, except for gambling and bad decisions.

Lilah would never admit it to either brother, but she wasn’t feeling very confident in their plan. The tech would work—she made sure of that. Seth was charming. Richie was quick with safes. There were a lot of things working in their favor. She should be excited and ready, but Lilah was actively pushing down the rise of anxiety. Despite all their planning, this was a rushed job. Rushed jobs were risky.

She hunched over the laptop and watched Seth work his magic. He might have terrible taste in alcohol, but his ability to make people like him was uncanny. In seconds, he was laughing and joking with the security team and offering to put up the entry fee for the game they were supposed to be guarding. Let’s shake up these rich assholes, he jeered with them. To her great surprise, they eagerly agreed. One of the guards even gave Seth some pointers about what to watch out for at the game. Without any real effort, he waltzed right into the back room and took a seat at the table.

The laptop chimed. Lilah quickly took the electronic request from the casino and rerouted it to a fake account that would signal that the fee was posted, pend it for three days, and then cancel. She guessed that the casino would spend a couple weeks fighting with a bank that didn’t exist before they figured it out. Hell, they might be so focused on the failed transaction that they didn’t even think to check the safe. Another circumstance that would work in their favor.

“You know,” Richie said over the comms, “this place is a lot nicer than I thought it would be.”

Lilah tapped the mute key, “I saw you looking at the blueprints. You’re telling me you thought it would be a dump?”

“There’s a big difference between blueprints and buildings. The carpet is new.”

“What’s that got to do with how nice a casino is?”

“When was the last time you saw new carpet in a casino?”

“You’ve got a point,” Lilah allowed. Then, “Are you in position?”

There was a sigh, followed by an annoyed, “Yes. I got the key card duplicated, too, if you were wondering.”

“I was wondering, thank you.”

“So glad to help.”

“Your professionalism and foresight are unmatched.”

Seth cleared his throat and it rang out loudly over the microphone. Lilah snorted. Richie outright laughed, “Alright, everyone. Game faces.”

For thirty minutes or so, things went just about the way they were supposed to. Seth played hand after hand, slowly feeding Lilah more data to enter into the computer. The program was becoming more accurate at predicting how each player was going to move, tailoring its algorithm and adapting. She occasionally checked on the cameras throughout the casino, noting how Richie stayed just outside of range. He didn’t talk, but she heard the flick of a lighter.

“Call the bet,” Lilah said. Seth threw down a few chips. His opponent folded. Just like the program predicted. “Looks like we’re on a roll. Win a few more hands and we’ll have their full attention.”

Her phone buzzed on the floor next to her. Lilah tapped the screen and saw a message from Javier. Just one word: Incoming. She didn’t have time to think about what that meant. The screen went black and then flashed with a call from a number she didn’t recognize. Her thumb hovered over the answer button, then dropped.

“Where are you?”

Lilah closed her eyes, “I’m safe.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Brasa bit out. “Where are you?”

“Working.” A low, warning growl was her response. She frowned and explained further, “I’m going after the book.”

“I have that under control.”

“No, you don’t,” she said. “Give me a few days and I’ll have it.”

He took a breath, “Lilah, you need to come back now.”

“I can’t do that. I’m in the middle of this job.”

“I need you here.”

The vulnerability in his voice almost made Lilah relent. She’d never heard him sound so small. His words were honest and her heart ached to hear them. “It’ll only be a few days. I’ll get the book, translate it, and we can talk about our plan moving forward.”

“Our plan?” There was heat in his voice. Raw anger. “You would actually have to consult with me for it to be ‘our plan’, Lilah.”

She didn’t have anything to say to that. Lilah knew what she did. Knew it was an act of cowardice to run out on him while he was unconscious. An image of his bleeding face steeled her resolve. It might have been cowardly, but it was the right move. He was in too precarious a position to delay Amaru further. It was Lilah’s turn to take the reins.

“I’ll help you get the book,” Brasa said. “Just come back.”

“I’ve got this,” Lilah replied with a shake of her head. “Just need a few days.” He started to argue with her and she felt her anger snap, “Just fucking trust me, okay? Let me do what I’m good at.”

Silence. Long, empty silence. Then, “Fine. Inform me when you have it.”

Lilah heard the line cut off. She pulled the phone away from her ear and stared down at the empty screen. “Damn it. Just...fucking damn it.”

She set the phone down and tried to refocus on the screen around the mass of anger, frustration, and regret rolling around in her head. Lilah knew it was the right thing to do. She knew Brasa would be pissed when he found out. And, she thought she’d prepared herself to have that anger coming at her head on. Lilah wasn’t prepared. She was totally off balance and she was in the middle of a job.

“Fuck,” she breathed in one long, low syllable.

Seth was just beginning another hand. He flashed the cards at her and she entered them into the program. From there, it began to run possible outcomes. Lilah withheld any direction, letting Seth make the first few decisions. He actually wasn’t that bad at cards. Maybe not pro level, but Lilah guessed that he could hang with your average player. If they didn’t need him to win so badly, she might have foregone the computer program altogether.

Just outside the game room, there was a huddle of security. One of them was talking animatedly, gesticulating with every word. Lilah squinted at the screen. He looked like the head of security. She quickly pulled up his head shot to confirm. Then, she tapped the mute key, “Looks like we have their attention. Fold, Seth. Next few rounds, I need you to put some real money in the pot.”

Lilah chewed on her lip while she watched Seth do as she asked, upping the ante and pushing the other players to match higher bets. She gave him a little guidance from the program, but mostly she let him play. This part of their plan was more about acting than it was about winning. Lilah didn’t need to give Seth any direction on how to be an asshole.

While she waited for the huddle of security to get more anxious, Lilah picked up her phone and opened up the recent calls list. She tapped on Brasa’s number and then the little icon to save it. When the contact screen opened, Lilah typed out his name and hit save. She stared at the box with ‘Brasa’ written on it, feeling a fresh wave of guilt. She might not know exactly how he was feeling, but she could guess. Angry. Betrayed. Embarrassed. He’d gotten a real ass kicking and woke up to find Lilah gone with no explanation. When he’d reached out to her, she’d shut him down. Even people who weren’t gods would be pretty upset by that.

She thought about calling him back and apologizing, but movement on the screen caught her attention. Lilah set the phone down, “Seth, get ready. They’re coming in to question you. I’m changing over the feeds. Richie, you’re up.”

“Copy,” Richie drawled.

Lilah moved quickly to set the loops on the cameras. She recorded three ten minute sections that would give Richie enough time to get to the safe, crack it, empty it, and get out. All Seth had to do was keep the security director and his minions busy for as long as possible. She flicked her eyes to the feed of the game table. He was already doing a fantastic job, if the scowl on security’s face was anything to go by.

“We have a problem.”

“What?”

“The key card doesn’t work on this door,” Richie said.

Lilah pulled up the real feed and searched for him. Richie was kneeling next to the outer door of the room where the safe was installed. It was just a hallway or two from where his brother was sitting at a table, smirking.

“What do you mean,” she bit out, “the key card doesn’t work. I told you exactly whose card to duplicate.”

There was a pause, “They called out sick.”

“They called out sick?”

“Yeah,” Richie said. She could see his dark head bobbing. “I had to improvise.”

Lilah dropped her forehead into her hand, “This isn’t something that you can improvise, Richie.”

“It’s fine. I got this.”

What Richie meant by ‘I got this’ was snapping the lock from the body of the door and tucking it into the bag by his feet. Lilah wished that he had passed that particular plan by her beforehand so that she could remind him that the lock was directly tied to the security system. Not even her quick fingers could stop the alarm that went off the second the magnet was disengaged. Lilah caught it before the signal was sent out to the police, but not before it got to the security team leads. She watched in real time as two of them pulled their phones out of their pockets to read the screen. They looked at each other, then one of them turned and headed down the hall.

“Richie, you got some heat coming your way. One—wait, its three, now. Three guards.”

From over the comms, Richie chuckled, “Not going to be a problem.”

Lilah didn’t have to ask what that meant, “Do it quietly. Don’t leave them in the hall. It’ll draw attention.”

He didn’t respond, but she saw him set his bag next to the safe and bend down. His hand reached up and began to rotate the wheel of the lock. Lilah looked back and forth from Richie’s all too calm face to the guards who had pulled fucking guns out of their holsters and were aiming them at the closed door of the safe room.

“They’re armed. Looks like a nine millimeter from here.”

“Not going to be a problem,” Richie repeated absently.

Too anxious to watch what would happen in the next few seconds, Lilah turned her head to find Seth standing with his hands on his hips. He was pretending to be insulted that anyone would accuse him of cheating and offering to strip down naked in order to prove his innocence. His hand briefly covered the bollo tie, deftly removing it to stow away in the pocket of his jacket. It was a good move. Very smooth.

“I think we’ve caused enough trouble tonight,” the security director was saying. “Let’s just pay out your winnings and get you on your way.”

Lilah’s eyes narrowed at the screen. There were too many guys hanging around for it to be that simple. If they really thought he was stealing from them, there would be no letting Seth get on his way. The police would be called and he’d be walked out in handcuffs. She tapped a few keys to check if dispatch received anything from the hotel. Nothing. Lilah squinted at the screen, feeling a lump drop into her stomach.

Seth laughed, “You gonna refund my entry fee, too? I dropped a lot of money to let off some steam in here tonight.”

Good. That was good. Keep them so focused that they didn’t hear the tumble of bodies nearby. Lilah glanced to the side. Richie was throwing someone down on the ground. Hard. She could practically feel the body’s impact against the floor. In the comm, Richie growled, low and menacing. She could see how his face had shifted around, all scales and fangs. He stood over the three guards, head lifted in triumph. Then, casually, he knelt by the safe and began to spin the wheel again.

Not too far away, Seth wasn’t doing quite as well as his brother. Security had him by the shoulders and was walking him out of the room. Seth’s jaw was set and his eyes were narrowed angrily, but he was complying. It didn’t appear that anyone had noticed what Richie was doing yet. Lilah started to breathe a sigh of relief and stopped. They weren’t leading Seth to the front of house. The guards had taken a left turn instead of a right, pushing him deeper into the building. Her lips pulled back from her teeth in a grimace as she realized what, exactly, was about to happen.

“Richie,” she barked, “get a move on with the safe. They’re taking Seth out back.”

His hand paused, “We’re on the third floor.”

“Its a fucking metaphor. They’re either going to kick the ever loving shit out of him or shoot him. Given the fact that the guards who came after you were toting firearms, I’m gonna go with the latter.”

Lilah heard Richie curse. His movements gained urgency and within a moment or two, he was hauling open the door to the safe and filling his bag with money. Then, without much care for the bodies at his feet, he strode out of the room and down the hall.

She found Seth on the video feed and said, “Take a left. Go straight to the back. They’re heading for the elevators at the back of the building.”

“Copy.”

That was all she could do. Stuck in the back of the van with nothing but the camera feed and the sound of a fight coming through the microphone, Lilah could only sit on her hands and wait. This was not the first time for Lilah. She remembered one very cold day in Prague when all she could do was sit in a hidden spot in the rafters while her team dealt with the unexpected arrival of another team. Back then, she was more concerned about finishing the job and getting out alive. Lilah managed to achieve both goals at the cost of some very competent colleagues. She did a lot more solo work, afterwards.

Richie set the bag just inside the turn of the hall and pulled a handgun out of the waistband of his slacks. He aimed in front of him and called out, “Hey, guys! Hate to interrupt, but you got my brother, there, and I’m gonna need him back.”

Though the sound was low in the microphone, Lilah could heard several of them laughing. Seth didn’t laugh. His face was stony. One hand came up and removed the glasses, tucking them safely in the breast pocket of his jacket. Lilah cut the feed and mic for them to save the battery. She did the same for the tie. After that, there was only Richie’s comm and the casino cameras to tell her how things were going to go down.

The fight was loud. Bullets and grunts and growls and fists meeting flesh. All of it was so loud that Lilah had to turn down the volume on the laptop to stop the ringing in her ears. Seth ducked under the arm of a guard and caught the gun Richie threw at him. He barely managed to aim before his hand was grabbed and twisted to the side. He followed the movement and gave the guard a headbutt that sent the other man’s body backwards a few steps. Meanwhile, Richie snapped two necks and grabbed a third to hoist the man in the air so that he could get at a vein. Blood sprayed against the wall in a messy shower.

It lasted only two or three minutes. Just two or three minutes and several people were dead, a few more wounded or unconscious. Seth and Richie looked at each other for a moment and she thought she could see them grinning. Then, just like they were supposed to do before things went sideways, they hustled to the back stairwell. Lilah kept one eye on them while she shut down two of the laptops and slipped them into their carrying cases. She waited until they cleared the back alley before setting the casino cameras back to their original feeds. All, except for one.

Lilah pulled a hooded sweatshirt over her head and wrapped a long strip of fabric around her lower face. Then, ensuring her hair was covered by the hood, she climbed out of the van and went up to the internet line that fed into the casino. Careful not to touch the line, itself, Lilah tore the small box from the line. It didn’t matter that the hasty removal would sever the internet until a technician could come out and reattach the wire. Lilah already had everything she needed, anyway.

After shutting the last of her programming down, Lilah closed up the van and drove out of downtown towards the highway. There wouldn’t be time to get back to the bar before sunrise. She would meet up with Richie and Seth at a hotel a couple towns over to sleep and debrief the job. The both of them brought a lot more attention to it than Lilah liked. A lot more attention. It wouldn’t be long before the authorities were looking for them and neither brother seemed to be very good at laying low.

Lilah worked through her frustration by telling herself that they had accomplished what they needed to accomplish. Seth got into the game and was a very convincing decoy. Richie cracked the safe. Lilah’s programs worked. Even though it hadn’t gone exactly to plan, they still had the money. Did it really matter that there were upwards of ten bodies left behind?

She went back and forth on that point until the van reached the hotel. Lilah backed into a spot on the far end of the parking lot and grabbed her things before stepping out. The night was sticky and warm, clinging to her skin. It made her want a shower. She hurried to the room and keyed in, surprised to find Seth and Richie inside.

“You beat me,” she said as she set down her bag.

Seth looked up from where he was reloading a gun, “I told you that van was slow.”

Lilah rolled her eyes, “Yeah, yeah. I needed the space. You can’t look at multiple screens in a coupe.” She noted that the tie and glasses were sitting neatly beside a box of bullets on the table.

“Ah, but its so much cooler,” he replied.

Richie, who had been flipping through the TV channels from his perch on the bed, interjected, “Slow is fine, as long as you made it here.”

Lilah pointed at Richie, “See? He gets it.”

Seth finished loading the gun and pushed the mag into place. He chambered a bullet and checked the safety before standing and slipping the gun into his belt, “We got three hundred thousand in the bag. A hundred of that is yours.”

“Thank you,” Lilah said. Then, “What about the fifty k I owe you for the tech?”

He shrugged, “Consider it the cost of business.”

“Awful generous of you.”

Another shrug, “You’re part of our team. We split our bag equally.”

She stared at him, set back on her heels that he thought they were a team. Sure, this was one job and it was customary to spit the pot evenly. But, even Lilah had to admit that he and his brother did most of the heavy lifting.

He moved past her to the door, “I need a drink.”

Lilah lifted a brow, “You think its a good idea to be out and about right now? I’m sure we got a shit load of cops looking for us already.”

His smile was brittle, “Ain’t no one gonna care where I’m going.”

And then, he was gone. Lilah stared at the closed door for a moment before sighing and setting her bag down on the bed Richie wasn’t sitting on. She dug through it to find some clothes, then headed off to the bathroom to get cleaned up.

Afterwards, Lilah padded back out into the room. Richie barely spared her a glance. He’d moved up to sit against the headboard and was smoking a cigarette. The TV was on and an old episode of X-Files was playing. Richie turned his attention to the screen while he flicked ash into the tray sitting on his thigh. His jacket and shirt were folded neatly on top of a nearby chair, shoes sitting on the floor. Lilah could see the splatter of blood on the fabric. She shivered as she remembered how it had gotten there.

With a determined effort, Lilah made herself think of something else, “I haven’t seen this episode in forever.”

Richie’s brows lifted, “Yeah?”

She nodded and sat down on the bed next to her bag, “The first time of saw it, I think I had nightmares of being sucked into a jet engine for weeks.”

His smile was small and a little unsure, “Your unconscious mind didn’t think that Mulder and Scully would save you?”

Lilah laughed, “No. No it did not.”

“There’s a marathon, if you want to watch for a bit.”

“I’m game,” she said. Then, “Does Seth usually go out to drink after a job?”

Richie nodded, eyes still on the screen, “Yeah. Its kind of a tradition.”

“What’s your tradition?”

He looked at her, “This. I get the room to myself so I can watch my favorite shows without the sarcastic commentary ruining the mood.”

Lilah shimmied up the bed and stacked a few pillows up so that she could lean against them, “My cousin, Reba, used to do that same thing. I can’t tell you how many times I had to change the channel because ‘its just so boring’.”

“Same,” Richie drawled.

They sat there together in comfortable silence while the agents tried to figure out who the murderer was. When that episode ended, another started. And another. Lilah drifted off to the sound of the theme song echoing in her ears.

[writingsofwerewolves]

Here is the first chapter of the 16k word plot-heavy werewolf noncon I have written.

This chapter hasn't been thoroughly edited so things are subject to change before I post the whole thing to AO3.

This whole story was a bit experimental. I'm not super happy with the result but I think there are a few gems in there that some folks might find interesting.

No content warnings for this first chapter, but as previously stated, this is a werewolf noncon.

Chapter 1

“These tunnels were used during the Civil War,” Josephine enthused, her voice echoing ominously against the stone walls, “I can’t believe no one’s been down here since then.”

“I can,” Gunther wrinkled his nose, “It reeks.”

Josephine inhaled deeply, a smile on her face, “It smells like history to me. Rich history. Just think of how many people used these passageways to escape the south two hundred years ago.”

“Can they help me escape the south now?” Jayce muttered in a voice that was clearly meant to be quiet and unheard but with the small space, it carried through the tunnel.

“Mood,” Talia replied wearily, “Josie, we should turn around before we get lost.”

“We won’t get lost,” she held up her smart phone, “I’m drawing out every turn we take. Relax, guys.”

The group pressed on, following the light of Josephine’s flashlight ahead of them. The tunnels were dark, musty, and damp. Each step echoed strangely around them in the tight space.

“Whoa, hold on,” Jayce breathed, “Shush.”

Everyone quieted and Josephine turned back to look at them, “What?”

“Do you hear that?” Jayce asked.

The group was silent, straining their ears. There was the sound of footsteps, soft but close. Josephine moved the flashlight to look around urgently.

“Hey, where’s Aaron?” she asked.

Talia said, “He’s right behind—” she broke off when she turned and saw no one was there. “Fuck. Aaron!” she called.

“Quiet!” Jayce hissed in a low whisper, their eyes full of concern, “I think something’s down here.”

“You-you’re being paranoid, Jay,” Josephine shook her head, though her voice sounded unsteady, “We better find Aaron though. He’s supposed to be filming.”

“You’re probably just hearing Aaron,” Gunther pointed out to Jayce, “Where’s the sound coming from?”

Jayce pointed a shaking finger down one of the tunnel’s branches.

“Then let’s go,” Josie said, leading the way.

The new tunnel was a tighter squeeze, forcing them to go in a single file. Josephine led the way confidently, her phone in one hand and her flashlight in the other. Jayce stuck close at her back, their own flashlight held tightly in their shaking hand. Gunther, the largest of the bunch, had to shimmy sideways through parts the smaller tunnel, slowing him down and creating a small gap between him and Jayce as he struggled to keep up. Talia brought up the rear, using her phone as a flashlight to keep glancing behind her, having the strange feeling that she was being watched.

The tunnel had a lot of curves, but no branches off it, giving the group no chance to change directions. Either they had to continue forward or turn back. And Josephine was no where near ready to turn back.

“Aaron!” she called, “Come on, this isn’t funny.”

No one responded.

“We should go home,” Jayce whispered fearfully.

“We have to at least find Aaron first,” Gunther pointed out.

“And besides,” Josephine began, “We’re nearly—oh!”

She broke off as suddenly the tunnel opened up ahead of them, into a large circular room. Josephine stepped into it, Jayce right at her back, as she looked around in awe. It was fairly dark, but the surprisingly tall ceiling had a grate in the center, opening up to the sky. Filtered sunlight trickled down into the center of the room, on to a raised surface.

Gunther was farther behind and Josephine already had begun examining the room with interest when he stepped in, Talia a few steps behind him.

“I don’t think we should be here,” Talia whispered, remaining in the tunnel, eyeing the room anxiously, “It seems—” her words broke off into a scream when she felt something grab her from behind.

Her scream startled the whole group. Jayce, who had kept themself pressed close to Josephine, lost their footing and fell with a yelp onto the raised surface in the center of the room. The yelp became an exclamation of pain.

“Oh, shit,” a man’s voice came from the darkness of the tunnel.

“Aaron!” Talia pulled out of his grip and slapped his arm, “The fuck?”

“Sorry,” Aaron said sheepishly, a camcorder held in one hand, aimed at Talia’s face, “I thought it’d make a funny video.”

“Jayce,” Josephine breathed, rushing to their side, “Are you okay?”

“No,” they groaned, pushing themself up into a sitting position on the raised center and clutching their hand.

“Shit,” Gunther said, opening his pack and pulling out supplies, “You’re bleeding. What happened?”

“I fell onto this thing,” they pointed at the surface they sat on, “Something sharp went into my hand. It… ah…”

Talia moved closer and looked at the object. It looked like a metal grate with raised walls.

“Is this a well?” Talia asked as Gunther tended to Jayce’s injured hand.

“Looks like it,” Josephine said, looking down into it. She shined her flashlight into it. Jayce’s blood was on the grate, dripping down into the deep hole. With the light, Josephine and Talia were able to see dark shapes. Rocks, they thought, at the bottom.

“No water down there,” Josephine remarked, “Not anymore, at least.”

She looked up, at the grate in the ceiling.

“Strange. I wonder if people lived here,” she said, beginning to shine her flashlight around the room, “Maybe this wasn’t just for transit. Maybe it—fuck!”

She dropped her flashlight, clutching her chest.

“What?” Talia asked urgently, moving to Josie’s side and helping her steady herself on her feet.

Josie pointed a shaky finger across the room, “I thought I saw something move.”

Talia lifted her phone, shining its flashlight in that direction and gasped herself. There was a dark lump and with the movement of the light, it did look like it was moving itself. A second of observation, however, reassured Talia that it indeed was not moving.

“What is that?” Aaron asked, aiming his camera at it as Talia took tentative steps forward.

“It looks like… fur,” Talia breathed, moving closer.

“Careful!” Aaron warned, “Might be a bear!”

“These tunnels have been locked up for over a hundred years,” Josie pointed out, “Even if it was a bear, it’s dead now.”

Talia continued to step towards it. It was indeed fur. A lot of fur. Black fur. Without thinking, she reached out her hand and pressed it against the figure.

She let out a long breath as she felt stiffness beneath her hand. The fur itself was soft, but the flesh below was hard. Dead.

“Gross,” Aaron said, making sure his camera was catching all of it.

Talia felt overwhelming sadness as she stroked the dead creature’s fur. A poor creature had wandered into the tunnel, gotten stuck, and died. Alone. Starving. Never to be seen again.

“We need to go,” Gunther said, helping Jayce to their feet once their hand was wrapped, “Jayce needs to go to a hospital. There’s no telling what type of infection they could get from that.”

“But—” Josephine began to protest. A firm look from Gunther had her shutting her mouth, “Fine. Come on, Talia.”

Talia didn’t move, her hand still buried in the fur of the creature.

Aaron rolled his eyes and grabbed Talia’s arm, “Let’s go, beautiful.”

Talia looked back longingly as she was dragged into the tunnel, away from the hunk of black fur. She didn’t know why. It was just a dead animal. But she didn’t want to leave it.

“We’ll be back,” Josephine called as she lead the way through the tunnel, “There’s a lot more to find down here and I want credit for it all.

[disneymbti]

Persephone Hades and Demeter from God’s school

Hi there, sweetie! I really hope you like this a lot!

Persephone's MBTI Type, Big Three and Enneagram Type

MBTI Type: INFP [The Mediator]

INFPs value time alone or with very small groups and can often feel exhausted after spending time with large groups of people.

They tend to focus on the big picture and don’t get lost on the smaller details. They have strong intuitions and often follow their gut instincts.

Mediators tend to prioritize emotion and make decisions that feel right. They are very diplomatic and can easily understand others' emotions.

They are very flexible in their schedules. INFPs like to keep their options open and tend to be more spontaneous.

Big Three: Pisces Sun, Cancer Moon and Scorpio Rising

Pisces Sun: The planetary ruler for Pisces is Jupiter and Neptune, which gives Pisces Suns a sentimental, intuitive, imaginative, and dreamy nature. 

Cancer Moon: The emotions of Cancer Moons have no limits, restraints, or depths. This is a cosmic placement that often leads to sweetness, kindness, emotional awareness and responsibility. 

Scorpio Rising: Prone to turning heads, Scorpio ascendents ooze with magnetism and dynamism. They're not known to back away from a challenge. 

Enneagram Type: 9w1 [The Negotiator]

Basic Fear: Nines with a one wing are afraid of being separated from the rest of the world and losing what matters to them.

Basic Desire: They desire peace, both internally and externally. Their type one wing encourages them to make their idealized, peaceful world a reality.

Negotiators defend themselves by participating heavily in routine to distract themselves and avoid negative emotions.

Hades' MBTI Type, Big Three and Enneagram Type

MBTI Type: INTP [The Logician]

INTPs prefer spending time alone so they can explore their rich inner world, and prolonged exposure to big groups of people can make them feel drained.

Their focus lies more on understanding the big picture than on noticing the tiny details. They want to know how things connect together, which gives them great intuition for solving complex problems.

As the most thinking-oriented of the types, they rely on logic rather than emotion as their main influence in decision making.

An INTP normally likes to keep their options open rather than locking themselves into a commitment. They’re flexible and spontaneous, which allows them to capitalize on opportunities that come available at the 11th hour.

Big Three: Scorpio Sun, Virgo Moon and Gemini Rising

Scorpio Sun: Ruled by Mars and Pluto, the Scorpio Sun is known to be intense, mysterious, and ever-evolving. 

Virgo Moon: Virgo Moons use their calm nature to gain deep clarity on matters, filtering questions through their kind, but reasonable, lens.

Gemini Rising: Gemini risings are quick-witted and fast communicators, always looking for unique ways to express themselves.

Enneagram Type: 4w5 [The Free Spirit]

Basic Fear: Four wing fives fear having no impact on the world. They may be reserved, but they seek recognition and admiration.

Basic Desire: They desire their own personal identity, and may retreat within themselves to discover who they really are.

Free Spirits tend to defend themselves either by withdrawing from others or adapting characteristics of loved ones.

Demeter's MBTI Type, Big Three and Enneagram Type

MBTI Type: ISFJ [The Defender]

ISFJ types need time alone to re-energize. They are self-sufficient and independent thinkers.

They are very observant and prefer to focus on the details of every situation. They listen to and follow past experience and present understandings.

Defenders prioritize the emotional needs of others. They make decisions based on what feels right, rather than what might make most logical sense.

They also prefer structure and organization, tending to follow rules and processes to an end goal. They are responsible and have a strong work ethic.

Big Three: Taurus Sun, Scorpio Moon and Virgo Rising

Taurus Sun: The Bull tends to be drawn to a creative and indulgent lifestyle — and we wouldn’t expect anything less from a Venus ruled sign. They're also thought to have a stubborn, loyal and grounded personality.

Scorpio Moon: Scorpio Moons are known for their brooding nature that exudes passion. Once you win them over, they are loyal and unconditional in matters of love.

Virgo Rising: Virgo ascendants are the fact-finders and checkers of the zodiac. They are fair-minded and slow to anger.

Enneagram Type: 2w1 [The Companion]

Basic Fear: Enneagram type two-wing-ones fear being unwanted by those they love. They tend to take on a caretaker role to serve others and avoid feelings of insecurity.

Basic Desire: They desire love and acceptance above all else. They are service-oriented and humble, seeking to help better the lives of those in their community.

Companions tend to stifle and repress their negative emotions and personal desires. They may feel internally conflicted as they work to meet everyone else’s needs but their own.

[open-hearth-rpg]

AI Summary Cyberpunk RPG Tools

We recently tried an AI tool with one of our ttrpg sessions.

But before I explain that, let me say this:

I effing loathe what AI has done to art. I used to really enjoy browsing Pinterest to find cool images for my campaigns. But now it is a slog. Its more than just the pure act of theft and lack of acknowledgement, combined the the tech-bro “if we can do it, it must be right” attitude. It’s that there’s a rush to the bottom. So many images look the same, glossy and weirdly plastic doll-like. You see the same elements repeated over and over again. It’s particularly unpleasant when you really look at the default vision this AI bs presents of certain people and genders.

I use Adobe Stock for images and it has been wild to watch it go from useful to an absolute PITA. To be fair, they added a filter which allows you to exclude generative AI. But that’s clearly self-defining and I’d say at least half the images I get in a search clearly come from AI but aren’t marked as such. You look at their artist’s page and see fourteen slight variations of the same piece and then another dozen blocks of images done in radically different styles. And Adobe doesn’t offer a tool to report folks.

It’s made me depressed when I scroll through new Drivethrurpg releases and see how many are using AI assets for art. DTRPG clearly has asked folks to state that in their description— but there’s no way to filter them out in searches. And we’ve now seen shovelware ttrpg supplements created with both AI art and text.

I’m skeptical of AI tools. I’m especially skeptical where they build on the work of others (uncredited) and are being used to force out workers or push down their wages (online articles, translations). So I was a little hesitant when Rich Rogers showed me a new tool for Zoom: an automated meeting summary. Zoom had already made me a little leery with the the AI-encompassing ToS they posted and then walked back. But it made me curious, so we tried it out.

It’s an app you set up in your Zoom call. Like with video recordings, participants have to give consent for the meeting summary to be made. It goes on in the background during the call and then a little while after its over, it sends you the text. And it is pretty decent.

Keep in mind I’m talking about summarizing TTRPG sessions. It has trouble distinguishing between meta, gameplay, and narration. That’s understandable. The spelling of things can be an issue. It gets some things absolutely wrong, but it gets more things right. I especially like how it breaks sections up. In the example below, I love how it assumes that this is a business meeting and uses our end of session Stars and Wishes to create a set of next steps.

You can see the summary at the link, with a few comments for clarification. It is a two-hour session of The Veil, appropriately a cyberpunk ttrpg.

[adeehayag]

too far / a self para (pt. 3)

triggers: murder, death

July 22, 2023 (almost midnight)

Why is it that when Maya died -- I'm really not sorry about it -- but it was my birthday the next day and I went to Medusa to celebrate that, I had people look at me strangely for doing that, but bodies have been dropping left and right recently, and if you're not in a celebratory mood tonight at this engagement party, you're in the wrong?

People suck, I thought, as I made my way to the open bar. And everyone here will pay.

My brain grew tired of planning after Toby, and I figured it just wasn't for me. That was more Jake's area of expertise anyway and besides, it's so much more fun to just wing it because not only will the future dead person be surprised, so will I! A fun, little surprise for me, like a treat.

I want to have a lot of treats tonight, I thought as I took a sip from my drink. The only plan I have for tonight that's set in stone is that I'll convince people I'm well on the way to being drunk as the night goes on, when I'll be anything but, to make people think that I could never be responsible for any of the murders that will be happening tonight.

I had a list of people I want to kill: Jieun and her friends but Jieun specifically for being a fake bitch, Lucia for grieving like she was Dante's girlfriend when, news flash, she wasn't and never will be, that overdramatic, overtalkative bitch, Dominic for making fun of me because I couldn't drive like he's sooooooo special for not making use of public transportation, Analu for breaking up with me all those years ago and still, to this day, never really giving me a reason why, Greyson for not choosing me, Kat solely because it's something I've been dreaming of for a long time now and of course, Sarah and Charlotte, solely for being Jake's sisters.

I didn't need a reason, but I still got them. I'll be sure to let them know why I wanted them dead before I slit their throat.

Everyone's soooooooo cute for thinking I'll stay the sniveling, crying, weak person I used to be that let Kat slap me without fighting back. They'll never expect that that person is dead, buried alongside the rest of the people I stabbed.

The person I am now is just one of the many things I'm so thankful to Jake for.

However, as excited as the thought of having multiple treats tonight made me, I still had to keep up the pretense that I was the woman who had lost everything. In a sense, that was still true. But why dwell on the thoughts of the people who are already dead when I could just think about the people I could still kill?

I wasn't in a celebratory mood, that's for sure. I love love, always have, and I always want to celebrate it, but isn't it clear to everybody that Mei doesn't actually love Levi? It's actually kind of funny to see everyone put on a smile and pretend to be happy, because I'd been doing the same thing for a long time. A long, long time now, it seems.

It also didn't really sit right with me that Mei doesn't seem to be as happy as she could be, when she was getting exactly what I used to wish on every star and every 11:11 for -- a rich, devoted husband, though I could do without the whole religion talk, and a child. A family. A future that's set and stable and secured. She'd never want for anything and she doesn't even seem all that grateful for it.

Maybe I could still have all of that with Jake once Kat's out of the picture.

I kept ordering drinks, kept pretending to drink them, kept walking around pretending to be drunk and that I needed to go to the bathroom or outside to get some fresh air, but I was mostly looking for any opportunity to get people on their own.

Maybe I should have come here with a better plan, I started to think because it seemed like I wouldn't be able to do as much killing as I wanted to, just as the red and blue lights filtered in through the windows. I didn't have to fake my confusion as I wondered what was going on, and the shock evident on my face was genuine when the Chief of Police told the entire ballroom of Lucia's death.

Damn it, Jake. She should have been mine, I couldn't help thinking, though I had to stamp down my laughter as I listened to the murmurs around me. Bye, bitch. Down in the dirt you go, where you belong.

Other than the initial shock and glee that she was dead, though, I found that there was also disappointment. I talked a big game about killing people tonight and I actually hadn't done anything yet. I didn't know Jake was going to kill tonight, and if he could do it even with all these people around, even with a date, even with his siblings at this party, then I most definitely can too. I just need to figure out how to actually do it, and the fact that everyone's now locked inside the hotel room just made everything so much harder.

People wouldn't dare pass up the opportunity to think of me as a weak person, I had come to realize. It's easier for them to think of me as that and I know now that I could use that to my advantage. That, and the fact that everyone thought I was drunk tonight meant that they wouldn't really think twice about me running to the bathroom, especially when I say I'm about to throw up.

I took a special interest when I saw that Levi was going upstairs to his room, instead of going back to the ballroom where Mei was, and my curiosity got the better of me as I followed him up to his room. Just like Toby, I wondered if he was really as nice as he seemed. He was selfish, that was for sure. He wanted to celebrate while people were dying around him.

Maybe the world would be a better place without him too. He hadn't been on my list but I can add him onto it right now, I thought as I checked to see the knife in my purse, the same one I used on Rhys all those months ago. Usually, selfish people were at least smart people, but Levi didn't seem to be one of them, because he didn't even consider having security at this event. An event with his pregnant fiancée, mind you.

I just waltzed in here, in my sparkly dress, a knife that could definitely implicate me for Rhys' murder, hidden in my equally sparkly purse, and nobody knew about it. Sure, I could always say that I have it to defend myself in case a situation arises, but I also didn't want to be labeled a suspect, like Toby had been. All because of a video that didn't even make that much sense to me.

I could turn on the waterworks, though, and I know people would stop thinking that I'd have anything to do with these murders. People never want to see a woman cry, especially one who looked like me and who had publicly lost so much. They'll never believe it.

Suckers.

I laughed as Levi asked me what I was doing, before I took out the knife. What did he think I was doing? Just taking a casual stroll into his hotel room with a knife out for what? A conversation? Wow, he really was stupid.

And then he had the audacity to ask me if I had been the one to hurt Lucia, and I rolled my eyes as I kicked the door closed behind me so that it was just him and me in this room. I deserve a little privacy with the man of the evening, do I not?

No. That wasn't me. I wish it had been me, though. I would have loved to see her die, I told him with a smile. Don't worry, I said, opting for a soothing tone. It's my turn now.

There it is. There's the wonderful panic in their eyes, and it made me grin wider as I looked up at him, the anticipation on my end and the fear and tension on his end palpable before I dropped my smile and lunged forward, only smiling again once I felt the sweet feeling of blood on my hands.

This is what I should have been doing the whole night, I thought as I looked into the eyes of the man who would not stop talking about his beautiful wife to be, about what a blessing a child is, about how blessed he was. What a load of fucking bullshit, I thought as I let out a laugh when I took the knife out. I want to see every emotion on his face, I want to see the moment when he realizes there's absolutely nothing he can do. That he's at the mercy of someone who's friends with his future wife, who even slept at Mei's apartment for a couple of nights.

Mei deserves this, I thought as I stabbed Levi in the chest, a cackle escaping past my lips. An ungrateful woman and a selfish man. Wow, maybe they really are meant to be together.

Too bad he's going to die. No prayer to his god could save him now.

Where's your God now? I asked him before I started laughing and laughing, overcome with the glee that came from the look on his face. I was still careful, though. Even though I pushed him on the bed to make stabbing him easier and escape harder, I was making sure none of his God-loving blood would end up on my pretty cute dress. I could still use this dress in the future, but some of his blood splattered on my purse.

Letting out a loud groan, I continued stabbing him until I was satisfied, sighing with relief once I let the blood drip down to the floor from my knife.

Now that I started, I wasn't going to stop any time soon. I wanted more of this feeling. I wanted to kill. I wanted people to suffer.

I made sure everything was in their rightful place when I got out of the room, making sure it was locked behind me, but my eyes widened when I realized I wasn't alone in the hallway, and I quickly turned around

A part of me wondered if I could get away with it somehow, just keep walking away from this person I met at Medusa since I had my back to her anyway, but then Iris started talking. Hey skank, you obviously know he’s engaged, do better.

And just like that, the smile was back on my face, and the knife was back in my hand.

This bitch.

What the fuck did you just call me? Huh? I asked, eyes glinting with a mixture of fury and glee. I thought I was satisfied with killing Levi, but I wasn't. Not even remotely close to being satisfied because I was already ready to kill again, and I was also so happy with how quickly the next person I'm going to kill was presented to me.

Maybe Levi was onto something with believing in God or whoever, because I wished for more death, and it immediately came to me, wrapped up in the form of a bitch in a tacky dress. A whole coward too, I thought, letting out a laugh as I watched her try to run down the stairs.

I love it when they run. It makes it so much more satisfying when they realize they have absolutely nowhere else to go.

You're going to look so pretty when you bleed out, I said when I caught up to her, just in time to sink my knife into her stomach. That was for calling me a skank. This one is just for fun, I said before I stabbed her again. The anger caused by her words made me to stab her over and over again, after I took my time going down the stairs she had just fallen from. She was unconscious, probably from hitting her head, but I didn't really care. It didn't stop me from stabbing her still.

Serves you right, you fucking bitch. You deserve this, I said, always hating it when people tried to paint liking sex as a bad thing. Calling women skanks was bad enough but it was a million times worse when it came from a fellow woman, especially someone who doesn't even belong here in town. Wasn't she new? What right does she have to comment on things that don't even concern her?

You're fucking nobody and you'll die a fucking nobody, I spat out, about to stab her in the chest when I heard footsteps, causing me to narrow my eyes. I'll come back for her as soon as the coast is clear.

She's not going anywhere.

July 22, 2023 (a few minutes after midnight)

I messed up. I messed up. I messed up.

Iris had survived, according to the police officer, and she knew who I was. I couldn't even get to her now that she was on the way to the hospital.

Fucking Mei. Ruining my plans with that 911 call, causing the hallway and the stairs to be overrun with cops and medics.

I had nowhere to go. No one to turn to. This was it. This was the end of the line for me.

Good.

The one word that snuck into my thoughts was jarring, shocking even me, but I think a part of me was relieved. I already knew I wasn't the same and I'd never go back to the person I used to be, and I had already thought of myself as someone with absolutely nothing and no one to lose, but this truly cemented it.

One way or another, I was going to leave this place either dead or found out. I preferred the former.

I'm going to have my fun first, though.

It was getting harder and harder to pretend to be drunk, but with the news of Levi's death and two additional injuries, nobody really paid me much attention as I tried looking for Kat.

I will not die or be arrested tonight without killing her first. After everything she put me through, she deserves to die. I'll deal with everyone else on my list later.

I lied through my teeth and said that I had a room somewhere so that I could get out of that stuffy ballroom, I ended up roaming around the halls, searching for Kat. What I found was Vera, though.

Eh, close enough.

Vera didn't like me solely because of Kat and for someone who consistently screamed that she was a strong, independent woman, she really needed to start thinking for herself.

Oh, you bitch, I thought when she bumped her shoulder against mine. I would have probably minded my business and passed up on her on my search for Kat, but just this one, small act of unnecessary aggression changed things.

No, actually, that's a lie. I've been itching to kill Vera too.

The only sound between them was when her keycard unlocked the door and the breathy laugh I let out as I wrapped the strap of her purse around her neck and pulled.

Bet you wish you didn't bump into me now, huh? I asked, deranged yet hushed laughter filling the air as I tightened the strap around her neck, wanting her to pass out.

I'm smart enough to know I wouldn't win in a fight against Vera, and who's going to stop me from making sure this fight wasn't fair?

The police? Please, I thought before letting out a yelp when Vera threw her body against mine, causing me to loosen my grip around the strap, but it didn't take too long before I had her pinned down, stabbing her in the shoulder, in the arm.

It's not enough. She deserves so much more.

I watched with glee as she started crawling away from me, and I took my time, knowing she didn't really have anywhere else to go. Another string of laughter could be heard as I realized where she was trying to go.

The balcony? Please, what was she going to do? Jump off it? Bleed to death in the bushes below?

You know, for some reason, I always thought you were smarter than this, but maybe that's just because you're best friends with two of the dumbest people I know, I said, right as I stabbed her in the back, the image of Vera's best friends, Kat and the other being Dante's baby mama, causing rage to run through me, making me pull on her hair to pin her down again before she could reach the balcony and ruin the fun I was having.

Stay down, you fucking bitch, I muttered as I stabbed her over and over and over again, laughing as I saw the tears in her eyes. Aww, are you going to cry, Vera? You're going to cry? I taunted her, the power of being the person responsible for this coursing through me and making me laugh again, before I heard footsteps. Again.

What the hell is up with people just roaming around these hallways? Didn't they know I have people to kill tonight?

Vera was already passed out, and the blood was already on my dress, so I decided to try and drag her to the opened hotel room, but the footsteps were getting closer and closer and I couldn't tell if it was just one person or two or three. I could handle killing one witness but three? Even I knew I couldn't handle that, and the realization caused me to drop Vera's body unceremoniously back on the floor, deciding to just wait out whoever this was before I go and make sure I killed Vera for good.

THE END

Levi really was onto something believing in a God because this felt like a blessing. The footsteps I heard belonged to none other than Kat, the one person I had been looking for in the first place.

Vera and Kat. Dead. Because of me.

Ooooooooh, this is perfect. This is exactly what I wanted.

I was still hiding out in Vera's room, but as soon as I saw Kat enter the room, I let out a cackle as I closed the door behind her, eyes boring into hers as I watched her back up to the wall.

You're not sorry, I spat out, disgust on my face before I tackled her down on the bed, the adrenaline and rage causing me to be a lot faster and stronger than ever. My hands wrapped themselves around Kat's throat, and I couldn't stop smiling. I wanted to draw this out. I wanted her to be in pain for as long as possible. I wanted her to look me in the eyes and know that she'll be dead because of me. That I did this to her.

I win, bitch, I thought as I grunted, tightening my hold around her neck, trying to flick her hands away from my face. I waited until Kat's hands were no longer clawing at her face, until I could see that she was turning blue before I sunk that knife deep in her stomach, exhaling deeply as euphoria coursed through me.

The sweet taste of revenge. The blood. The look in her eyes.

This is all I care about.

Save your fucking apologies, bitch. I don't want them, I said before I stabbed her again, and again, and again.

And again, and again, and again. And again, and again, and again, and again.

I didn't want to stop, the glee in being coated in her blood causing me to not even think about anything else. I didn't care about Vera outside this door, and the fact that people might have seen her at this point. I didn't care if people might hear the laughter from this room and walk in.

I didn't care.

I WIN.

Peals of laughter filled the air as I had the most fun I had tonight, just stabbing Kat everywhere I could, stabbing her more times than I stabbed Sawyer and Toby combined.

I'm not done. I'm never going to be done. I can do this for the rest of my life.

Why had I waited so long to do this? This was so, so, so fun. Hurting Kat was so fun. Killing Kat was so fun. Seeing her blood soak into the white hotel comforter and turning it red was so, so, so fun.

It took her a while to realize she wasn't alone in the room anymore, and the smile only widened when she saw who it was.

My Jakey, I thought, standing beside the bed as I watched him look at his girlfriend. His dead girlfriend.

Now it could be him and me. Together forever. Our happy ever after.

I still had to deal with his sisters, but this was really, really good progress. Kat was no longer in the picture and the proud smile was still on my lips, even as I dropped the knife on the floor.

My work tonight is done, I think.

My head tilted to the side as I watched Jake pick up the knife and stepped closer towards me, backing me up until I was against the wall. What--, I started to ask before I felt his hands wrapping themselves around my neck, cutting off my air.

Kinky.

Oh, I actually kind of like this.

It's only when he kept talking that I realized this wasn't going to be like what they did after Theo and Bianca. I don't understand.

Didn't he love me? Didn't he say it was always going to be us in the end? Wasn't he happy I did what I had to do so we could be happy together?

I couldn't even gasp as I felt the sharp knife -- my knife -- plunge into my chest. Jake pulled me by my hair and threw me on the ground, and I felt woozy from the lack of air. I could feel blood dripping from my chest, but none of it hurt as much as my heart was.

The same heart that yearned for Jake since we were younger. The same heart that wholeheartedly believed we were in this together?

I wanted to say no, I wanted to beg him to stop, but he stabbed me again, and again, and again.

And again, and again, and again. And again, and again, and again, and again.

I don't understand.

I was his, and he was hurting me. He wanted to kill me. As I felt every stab, all I wanted to do was sob and tell him he was the one who made me into this. I thought this was what he wanted. I thought he loved me.

Because I loved him. I still did.

Even as he towered over me and hurt me and betrayed me, I loved him.

I love Jake. I always will.

I could feel myself drifting away now, as I thought about everything in my life that had brought me to this one moment. Maybe this was how it was always meant to be. I'll always be the girl who loves a little too much, gives too much of herself away, to get absolutely nothing good back.

There's nothing left for me to give now, I thought as I looked into the eyes of the man I had sacrificed everything for.

All I ever wanted was to be loved. Didn't I deserve that?

Didn't Jake owe me that? Since my love for him had been the reason for everything I did? Since he's still someone I'd do anything for?

Too much. It's all too much. It hurts too much.

It's almost ironic, how being stabbed in the chest hurt a lot less than a consistently broken heart.

[minaheartsstuff]

cute

Damian walked through the gates of Gotham Academy with a scowl on his face. The place was an overrated zoo of rich kids, each trying to outdo the other. His mind was mostly on how to get through this day, but his attention quickly shifted when he noticed the girl standing alone by the lockers.

She wasn’t standing there out of choice; there was a deliberate gap between her and the others. Y/N. He’d seen her around, mostly keeping to herself, but today something felt different. He narrowed his eyes as he watched a couple of girls walk past her, deliberately knocking into her shoulder.

“Watch it, freak,” one of them sneered, loud enough for the whole hallway to hear.

Damian’s eyes flicked to Y/N. She didn’t flinch or react outwardly, but her jaw tightened, a muscle in her neck twitching as she stared straight ahead. She was holding herself back — something about the way her posture was stiff, like she was ready to snap at any moment.

“Nice shirt,” another voice piped up from behind her, clearly mocking her style, but Y/N didn’t react to that either. She just picked up her books, walking away without a word.

Damian’s curiosity piqued. He’d noticed her before, but today it seemed like she was more than just the weird girl everyone ignored. There was a simmering anger underneath her calm demeanor, and he wondered how much longer she could keep it in check.

He followed her discreetly to the classroom, staying just a few steps behind as she sat down in the back corner, not talking to anyone. Most of the class filtered in, gossiping and laughing, but Y/N didn’t seem bothered by it. Damian, however, couldn’t shake the feeling that she was hiding something.

A few minutes into the lesson, a few guys from the front row started whispering loudly.

“Did you see her last week? She’s so weird. Think she’s one of those freaks who… can’t even talk to people normally.”

Damian’s eyes shot toward Y/N, but she didn’t flinch or acknowledge the comments. Instead, she just scribbled notes, her face a mask of indifference. He was almost impressed by how well she held herself together.

It wasn’t until after class that things escalated. As Y/N walked out of the room, one of the girls who’d pushed her earlier came up behind her, slapping her bag hard enough for it to fly out of her hands and hit the floor.

“Oops, sorry,” the girl giggled, but there was no apology in her tone.

Y/N froze. Her hands clenched, and for a split second, her eyes darkened. Damian could see the muscles in her back ripple, like she was ready to turn around and rip someone’s head off. But instead, she bent down, picked up the bag, and stood up straight.

“I’m not in the mood,” she said quietly, almost too quietly.

Damian watched as the girl’s friend nudged her, whispering something, and they both started laughing like this was some sort of victory.

Y/N’s jaw tightened again, but she turned and walked away without saying another word. That was when Damian made his decision.

He followed her out of the classroom and down the hall, moving silently as she made her way toward the courtyard. He caught up with her just as she was about to sit on one of the benches.

“Nice day for a walk, huh?” he said, voice smooth but with a slight challenge in it.

Y/N looked up, startled at the sudden attention. She blinked a couple of times, her expression guarded. “Is it?” she replied flatly, clearly not interested.

“You okay?” Damian asked, leaning against the nearby fence, watching her closely.

She shrugged, pulling her knees up to her chest. “I’m fine. Just don’t feel like dealing with people right now.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” he muttered, watching as she stared off at the distant trees, her shoulders tense.

Y/N let out a long breath, obviously frustrated but holding it in. “People are idiots,” she muttered, almost to herself. “Like they think I’m just supposed to take it.”

Damian frowned, stepping closer. “They won’t stop if you let them get away with it,” he said, a little more forceful than intended.

She raised an eyebrow, glancing at him. “And what would you suggest? Should I start a fight?”

“Not a fight,” Damian said coolly. “But you don’t have to let them walk all over you.”

Y/N let out a humorless laugh. “You think it’s that simple?”

He didn’t answer right away, his gaze flicking over her face. There was something off about her. Something that made him think that if anyone tried to push her too far, they’d find out just how wrong they were.

“Maybe not,” he admitted, “but you shouldn’t hide it. Whatever’s going on, it’s not gonna stay buried forever.”

Y/N stared at him for a moment, a flicker of something crossing her face — something close to vulnerability, but it vanished quickly. “I’m fine,” she repeated.

Damian didn’t press. He knew that tone. “Okay, then,” he said, backing off slightly. “But if you ever need someone to… talk to, or whatever, I’m around.”

She didn’t respond to that, but he saw her glance at him from the corner of her eye. A brief moment of something unspoken passed between them before she looked away again.

“See you, Damian,” she said quietly.

He watched her walk away, a little unsure of what he had just witnessed. There was more to her than the weird girl everyone avoided. And maybe, just maybe, he was going to find out what.

Damian couldn’t help but notice her throughout the day. Y/N wasn’t trying to be seen, but she was impossible to miss. Every time she walked past a group of students, they made sure to throw some snide comment or a sneering laugh her way. He noticed the way she tightened her jaw, her shoulders going stiff but never saying a word in response. It fascinated him how well she controlled herself.

By the time gym class rolled around, Damian was more than a little distracted. The rec centre had an outdoor pool that opened up during warmer weather, and today was one of those days. Most of the class was already headed there, chattering excitedly about swimming and showing off, but Damian found himself lost in thought as he followed them.

As they walked toward the pool, he caught a glimpse of Y/N standing at the edge of the group. Her friends—if they could even be called that—were gathered around her, laughing and nudging her, pressuring her to change into a bikini. Damian couldn’t quite hear what they were saying, but the looks they were throwing her way made him bristle.

Y/N wasn’t having it, though. She crossed her arms tightly, her lips pressed into a thin line. But then one of the girls shoved a bikini into her hands, and before Y/N could say anything, the group walked off, leaving her to reluctantly change.

The moment Y/N stepped out from behind the changing room, wearing the bikini, Damian’s breath caught in his throat. He could see the way her body had been sculpted, the curves that her baggy clothes always hid. Her expression was a mixture of annoyance and frustration, but even so, it didn’t change the fact that she was undeniably striking.

But what stood out more than anything was how uncomfortable she looked. Her eyes darted around, avoiding the gazes of anyone who might stare. He overheard a couple of whispers from nearby students, things like “Bitter face, ugly but hot body,” and it made Damian feel sick to his stomach.

He tried not to look at her, tried to keep his gaze away from the way her body moved as she walked toward the pool. But no matter how hard he tried to avert his eyes, it was impossible to ignore the way she stood out from the crowd. She was like a storm cloud in a sea of sunshine—unseen but still felt by everyone around her.

He caught a glimpse of her again as she stood near the edge of the pool, her arms still crossed in defense, but this time, there was a hint of anger in her eyes. She clearly wasn’t enjoying herself.

“Yo, Y/N!” one of the guys from the other side of the pool called out, “You’re not going to just stand there, are you?”

She glared at him, a cold, sharp look that silenced him immediately. It was clear she wasn’t going to let anyone push her into anything.

Damian watched from a distance, his heart unexpectedly thudding in his chest.

Damian couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. It wasn’t just the way people treated Y/N, or the fact that she always kept her distance, but there was something else. Something hidden beneath her cool exterior. He couldn’t put his finger on it yet, but he was determined to find out.

As the class went on, he tried to focus on the lesson. But every time he glanced over at Y/N, she seemed more out of place. She wasn’t talking to anyone, her gaze was far off as she stood by the edge of the pool, seemingly lost in her own thoughts. He couldn’t help but wonder what was going through her mind, what she was thinking as she stood there, not quite part of the group, but still, always in the background.

“Hey, Y/N, you gonna join in or what?” One of the boys from her ‘friend group’ called out again, his tone mocking.

Y/N rolled her eyes but didn’t answer. She didn’t look like she had any intention of jumping into the water anytime soon. Instead, she glanced at Damian across the pool, and their eyes locked for a brief moment. For the first time that day, she didn’t look angry or frustrated. There was a fleeting hint of something softer in her gaze, and for a split second, Damian thought he saw her actually relax. But just as quickly, she turned away, pulling her arms tighter around herself.

Damian’s heart rate picked up, but he quickly averted his gaze, not wanting to be caught staring. He tried to focus on the class, but his mind kept drifting back to her. She had a way of making everything else fade into the background. The sound of the water, the chatter from his classmates, the heat of the sun—none of it mattered when Y/N was in the picture.

“Oi, Damian!” one of the other guys shouted, snapping him from his thoughts. “You’re not even paying attention, mate.”

Damian blinked, pulling his attention back to the group. “Sorry,” he muttered, barely paying attention to what they were saying.

The class continued as normal, but all Damian could think about was Y/N. He found himself glancing her way every few seconds, each time hoping to catch a glimpse of something that might give him a clue about what was going on with her.

Eventually, the lesson wrapped up, and the students began to file out of the pool area. Y/N’s group of ‘friends’ was laughing, but it sounded forced. Y/N was trailing behind them, her steps slow, her shoulders hunched.

Damian couldn’t stand it any longer. He made his way toward the exit, pretending to chat with a couple of people in his class, but his eyes never left Y/N. He couldn’t just let her walk off like that, like she didn’t matter.

When he caught up with her by the changing rooms, he was surprised to find her alone. Her ‘friends’ had already disappeared into the locker room, laughing and joking as though nothing had happened. Y/N, however, stood outside, looking down at the ground, her arms still crossed tightly over her chest.

“Hey,” Damian called out, his voice uncharacteristically soft. She turned, clearly startled to see him there.

“Damian,” she muttered, her voice guarded, as if she were expecting something from him.

“Are you okay?” Damian asked before he could stop himself. His eyes searched hers, looking for any sign that she was upset, frustrated, or anything else. But she gave him nothing.

“I’m fine,” Y/N replied quickly, but there was an edge to her tone, one he couldn’t ignore.

Damian stepped closer, his expression serious. “You sure? You don’t look fine.”

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes narrowing slightly. “I’m just… tired of people’s shit, alright? Doesn’t matter what they say or do. It’s always the same.”

Damian paused, watching her for a moment. He wanted to say something—anything—to make her feel better, to make her not look so… defeated. But the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he nodded, as if he understood what she was going through, even though he knew he couldn’t possibly understand the half of it.

“Well,” he said, his voice quieter now, “if you ever want to talk about it… I’m here.”

Y/N’s eyes flickered to him, a brief flicker of something—maybe surprise—passing over her face before she masked it again with indifference. “I’ll be fine,” she said, her tone softening just a little.

Damian stood there for a moment longer, unsure of what to do. Then, without thinking, he reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder. “You don’t have to do everything on your own, Y/N. You know that, right?”

Her eyes softened, just for a second, and then she looked away, pulling herself out of his touch. “I don’t need saving,” she muttered, the edge back in her voice.

Damian didn’t press her, knowing better than to push. Instead, he simply nodded, giving her space. “Alright,” he said, his voice steady. “But I’ll be around if you change your mind.”

He turned to leave, but as he did, he heard her call his name. “Damian.”

He turned back to face her, his heart skipping a beat at the way she looked at him, her gaze more open than he’d ever seen it before.

“Thanks,” she said, her voice soft but genuine.

Damian smiled, the feeling of warmth spreading through him. “Anytime,” he replied, before walking away.

As he made his way back to the main area of the school, his thoughts were consumed by Y/N. He didn’t know why she had that effect on him, why he couldn’t seem to let her go. But for the first time in a long while, Damian didn’t mind. Maybe, just maybe, there was more to this girl than met the eye.

Damian and Y/N walked side by side, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the sidewalk as they made their way home. The air was warmer now, the temperature of the day slowly fading into evening coolness. They hadn’t spoken much since their conversation by the pool, but the silence between them was comfortable, as if they didn’t need words to understand each other.

As they walked, Damian’s gaze lingered on Y/N, and his eyes caught something—a faint scar on the side of her neck, just barely visible beneath her hair. It was small, almost like a delicate line, but it piqued his curiosity. He wanted to ask about it, to know how it happened, but something told him now wasn’t the time. She had already put up so many walls around herself; pushing her too much might just make her shut him out completely.

Instead, he turned his attention back to the path ahead of them, trying to push his thoughts aside. He didn’t want to make things awkward between them again.

But then, as they approached the corner near the entrance to her street, the familiar sound of camera flashes caught Damian’s attention. The sharp staccato of clicks filled the air, and before he could process what was happening, a small group of paparazzi appeared from nowhere, surrounding them.

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise, her shoulders tensing as she instinctively stepped closer to Damian. She clearly wasn’t expecting this, and her discomfort was apparent in the way her posture shifted, as if she were bracing herself for the onslaught of questions and flashes.

Damian instinctively reached for her, his hand landing on her waist and pulling her closer. He could feel her body stiffen for a moment at the sudden contact, but he didn’t give her a chance to pull away. His eyes narrowed as he glanced around, assessing the crowd.

“Hey! Y/N, is it true you’re dating Damian Wayne?” one of the photographers shouted, his camera lens aimed directly at her. “Is there something going on between you two?”

Damian’s protective instincts flared up. He wasn’t going to let these vultures get under Y/N’s skin. With a firm grip on her waist, he guided her through the crowd, maneuvering them both through the tight space with ease. “Move,” he growled at the photographers, his tone low and commanding.

Y/N was quiet beside him, still processing the situation. She kept her eyes down, clearly trying to avoid any additional attention, but Damian could feel her tension, the way her body was practically frozen against his side.

“Damian!” another photographer called. “What’s the deal? Are you two just friends, or is it something more?”

Damian didn’t respond. He wasn’t in the mood to entertain their nonsense. His eyes remained locked on the space ahead of him, guiding Y/N through the crowd with a confidence that only came from years of dealing with this kind of situation. His hand stayed firm on her waist, not letting go, ensuring that they didn’t get separated in the chaos.

Finally, they reached the edge of the crowd, where the photographers couldn’t push any further. Damian didn’t stop there, though. He kept walking, his hand still on her waist as he guided them down a quieter side street, away from the chaos.

Once they were out of view, Damian slowed his pace, his hand finally dropping from her waist. He glanced over at Y/N, who was now walking beside him, her face slightly flushed from the experience. She didn’t say anything right away, but the tense lines of her body had softened slightly.

“Sorry about that,” Damian said, his voice quieter now, more gentle than usual. “I didn’t expect them to show up like that.”

Y/N shook her head, her eyes still forward as she walked. “It’s fine,” she said, her tone flat, though he could tell she was still rattled. “I’m used to it.”

Damian raised an eyebrow, studying her carefully. “You don’t look like you’re used to it.”

She gave him a quick look, her lips pressed together in a tight line. “You’d be surprised.”

There was a brief pause between them, and Damian decided not to press her further. It was clear she didn’t want to talk about it. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was tougher than she let on. Maybe even tougher than anyone realized.

They walked in silence for a little while longer, the noise of the city gradually fading as they neared Y/N’s street. The evening was setting in now, the sun dipping lower in the sky. It was peaceful again, the chaos of the paparazzi a distant memory.

When they finally reached the corner of her street, Y/N turned to face him. “Thanks, by the way,” she said quietly. “For… helping me get out of there.”

Damian gave her a small smile, nodding. “Don’t mention it,” he said. “You don’t have to deal with that alone.”

For a moment, they stood there, staring at each other. There was something unspoken in the air between them, a subtle understanding that neither of them had voiced aloud, but both could feel.

Y/N hesitated before she spoke again, her voice soft. “You’re not like everyone else, you know that?”

Damian raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “I hope that’s a compliment.”

She shrugged, but there was a faint smile on her face. “I don’t know yet,” she replied, her voice teasing. “But you’re not like the others.”

Damian chuckled, watching her for a second longer before he gave her a small nod. “Well, if you ever need someone to get rid of those photographers, you know where to find me.”

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully, but there was a light in her expression that Damian hadn’t seen before. It was a small shift, but it made him feel like maybe—just maybe—he was getting under that tough exterior of hers.

“Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, before turning and walking toward her house. “See you around, Damian.”

“See you,” he called back, watching her go, his thoughts lingering on her even after she disappeared into the distance.

——

⸻

He caught a flash of movement across the rooftops, barely a blur. But he was faster.

Damian leapt, cape snapping behind him, and tackled the figure mid-air. They hit the gravel hard, skidding. She groaned under him, and his eyes narrowed at the glint of a domino mask.

“Who the hell are you?” he growled, pressing a knee into her stomach and twisting her wrist behind her back.

She didn’t flinch. In fact, she smiled, lips tugging upward like a secret.

“Boy Wonder,” she said, voice low and mocking. “Didn’t know they still let you run around unsupervised.”

His eyes flicked across her—tight combat gear, bloodstains at her hip, and two long, claw-like blades retracted into her knuckles. She wasn’t just dressed for the part. She was dangerous.

“You’ve been taking out Maroni’s men,” Damian muttered. “Why?”

“No comment,” she hummed, blinking up at him lazily.

He tightened his grip, pushing her arm higher until it should’ve snapped—she didn’t scream. Didn’t even wince. Just looked up at him with a gleam in her eye.

Then, in one sudden movement, she rolled her shoulder—and snikt. Her wrist split open, and the injury closed just as fast as it opened.

Damian flinched back.

“You heal,” he said, more to himself.

“Fast,” she whispered. Then, raising an eyebrow, “Wanna see how fast other parts of me are, Robin?”

His jaw clenched. “You’re playing with fire.”

“Lucky for you,” she said, dragging her nails lightly down the side of his cowl, “I like getting burned.”

Damian stood stiffly in the Batcave, arms crossed as the main monitor displayed a still image of the girl—masked, smirking, crouched on the rooftop where he last saw her.

Bruce tapped away at the keyboard, eyes narrowing at the flashing data trying to load.

“That’s her?” Bruce asked, not looking away from the screen.

Damian nodded. “She heals like me. Better. Faster. Claws—retractable. Feral fighting style. Doesn’t speak unless she wants to.”

Bruce grunted. “And you let her walk.”

Damian’s jaw clenched. “She would’ve torn through my gauntlets if I hadn’t backed off. I thought she was one of ours at first. Mask, tactics, the way she moves. It’s trained—military, maybe. But personal. She improvises.”

“Name?”

“No idea. She wouldn’t talk. Just called me ‘Boy Wonder’ and flirted like it was a game.”

Bruce’s eyes flicked to him briefly, unamused, before turning back to the screen as the file finally pinged open. A grainy black-and-white photo of a toddler filled the screen. Underneath, redacted lines dominated the page.

“Is this a joke?” Damian muttered, stepping closer.

“No. That’s her.”

“That’s a baby.”

“Timestamp—sixteen years ago,” Bruce said, scrolling. “Same eyes. Same nose. Bio markers match up from the blood trace on your suit.”

Damian stared. “She’s our age?”

Bruce nodded slowly. “Name: Redacted. Origin: Redacted. Family: Unknown. But here—look at this.”

Bruce zoomed in on a single, unredacted line buried under layers of security:

“Subject 09-B: Sold to government. Transfer date: 02/13/20—”

Damian’s brows drew together. “Sold?”

Bruce’s jaw tightened. “She’s not just a mercenary, Damian. She was made to be one.”

Damian exhaled, low and sharp. “That’s why she doesn’t talk about it. She’s holding a hell of a lot back.”

“She’s dangerous.”

“She’s controlled,” Damian said. “But barely.”

Bruce stared at him. “And you still let her go.”

Damian looked at the baby photo again, then the rooftop image beside it. “I don’t think anyone’s ever let her go before.”

Damian’s lips curled into a small smirk, eyes still locked on the monitor. He crossed his arms and leaned back slightly.

Bruce shot him a look. “What?”

Damian chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. “She’s impressive. Fast. Tactical. But she doesn’t check for trackers.”

Bruce raised a brow. “You tagged her?”

“Slipped it behind her shoulder during the scuffle. She didn’t even flinch.”

Bruce nodded approvingly. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

With a few keystrokes, the signal blipped onto the map—bright red in a sea of gray. A cluster of buildings lit up on screen.

“Crime Alley,” Bruce muttered. “Of course.”

Damian stepped forward. “Run residential records.”

Bruce’s fingers moved fast. “Only two tenants listed in that building. One’s an old man—retired vet. The other…”

He tapped once more, pulling up a file. A recent ID photo popped up of Y/N, hair tucked back, blank stare, the domino mask gone but unmistakable all the same.

“Alias: Sera Vale,” Bruce read. “No social, no school records. But consistent rent payments. No job on file.”

Damian raised a brow. “Pays rent. No job. And no paper trail?”

“Cash business. Likely contract work. Mercenary income,” Bruce said flatly. “And from the looks of it, she’s not just surviving. She’s comfortable.”

Damian chuckled again, his smirk deepening. “Told you. She’s not sloppy. Just doesn’t care who’s watching.”

Bruce turned, leveling a stare at him. “This isn’t a game.”

“I know,” Damian said. “But if we want to know who trained her, where she came from—she’s our only lead.”

Bruce turned back to the screen. “Then don’t lose her.”

Damian’s eyes flicked to the small tracker still glowing on the monitor. “Wasn’t planning to.”

Damian dropped from the shadowed rooftop silently, crouched by the cracked brick edge of the old apartment complex. The tracker had stopped blinking half an hour ago. Gone. Scrambled.

He’d expected it.

The window to apartment 403 was cracked open, the blinds swaying. Damian narrowed his eyes. “Too easy,” he muttered.

He pressed two fingers to the comm. “I’m going in.”

“Be careful,” came Bruce’s voice in his ear. “If she’s half of what we suspect—”

“I know,” Damian cut in, already moving.

He entered through the window, gliding soundlessly into the empty space. There was no warmth, no scent of anyone having lived there. It was completely gutted. But his eyes caught the blinking red on a nearby table—his tracker, removed and stuck to a decoy dummy made from weighted pillows and cloth.

“Damn it,” he hissed.

The second he turned to move, a soft click echoed beneath his boot.

He jumped—just as the blast detonated.

The explosion knocked the air from his lungs, but he managed to flip backward through the broken window, landing rough against the fire escape. Glass and smoke followed, but he was already back on his feet, coughing through the burn in his throat.

From below, voices caught his ear—rough, loud, careless.

“You see that blast? Girl’s a damn psycho.”

“No wonder Black Mask wanted her. You heard she’s going after Verno tonight?”

“The Eastgate warehouse? Hell yeah. Man, she’s fast. Hot, too. Like, scary-hot. The type that’ll kill you with a smile.”

Damian moved before they could say more. His cape snapped in the wind as he dropped behind them in the alley.

“Talk,” he growled, voice low.

They spun, guns half-raised before he’d already knocked one out cold and had the second pinned against the wall.

“Wh-what?! What the hell, man?!”

“Where is she?” Damian hissed, pressing his forearm into the man’s throat. “The Eastgate warehouse?”

“Yeah! Yeah, she’s hitting it in like twenty minutes! Word is, she’s gunning for this big guy—Colt, the arms runner. Black Mask wants him gone clean. Please, man, that’s all I know—”

Damian slammed him once more into the wall and let him crumple.

He activated his comm. “I’m heading to Eastgate. Intercepting target. And her.”

Bruce’s voice was sharp. “Do not engage recklessly, Damian.”

“I won’t,” he muttered, leaping to the next rooftop. “Not unless she makes me.”

[Batwing, 11:38 PM, above Eastgate District]

Damian stood at the edge of the catwalk inside the warehouse, cloak blending into the shadows, eyes narrowed as the mercenary slipped in through the side—quiet, controlled, lethal.

She moved with a cat’s grace, claws glinting faintly under the dim overhead lights, slicing a lock on a container door with practiced ease.

He dropped behind her without a sound. “Fancy seeing you again.”

She turned slowly, domino mask tilted. “Boy Wonder,” she drawled. “Missed me already?”

Damian smirked. “You’re not that hard to find.”

Her eyebrow lifted, unimpressed. “Shame. I thought you enjoyed the chase.”

“I do.” His voice dropped just enough to make her pause. “But I enjoy catching more.”

She was fast—but he was faster.

A dart embedded in her shoulder before she could blink. She staggered, claws dragging across a crate as her legs weakened. “You’re such a cheating little—”

Her voice slurred as her knees buckled, and Damian caught her before she hit the ground, pressing two fingers to her pulse to monitor the sedative’s effect.

He brought his comm to his mouth. “Target sedated. Bring the Batwing.”

⸻

Batcave, an hour later.

Her eyelids fluttered open to cold air and dim lighting, her arms tied behind her back in a reinforced steel chair. She groaned.

“Seriously?” she muttered. “Kinky setup, but not my scene.”

Bruce stepped from the shadows, Damian behind him. She tilted her head, eyeing them both with a grin.

“Well, well. The Bat and his Brat.” Her eyes scanned them both. “You’re not great at keeping secrets. Mask or no mask, you still scream ‘Wayne’.”

Damian rolled his eyes. “You don’t know anything.”

She smirked. “I don’t care, either. I’m not here for the family tea.”

Bruce’s tone was firm. “Why are you working with Black Mask?”

She looked between them, deadpan. “You’re asking me—a mercenary—why I do a job?” She leaned forward in the chair, voice dripping sarcasm. “For the money, genius. God, you people are stupid.”

Damian folded his arms, watching her with barely concealed amusement.

“And here I thought you had some noble, tragic backstory.”

“Oh, I do,” she said casually. “But I save that for therapy.”

He huffed a short laugh, and she grinned at him, eyes sparkling.

“You’re cute when you’re trying to be all intimidating, by the way.”

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose.

Damian? He was smirking. “She’s going to be a problem.”

She winked. “You’ve got no idea.”

⸻

Bruce stood over her, arms crossed. The Batcomputer glowed behind him, casting long shadows across the cave. Y/N was still tied to the chair, but she looked more amused than scared.

“You’ve been working with Black Mask,” Bruce said evenly.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “If I had a dollar for every time a man tried to intimidate me in a cave…”

Damian leaned against the table nearby, arms folded, lips curled in a smug little smirk. “You’re dodging the question.”

“I’m a mercenary,” she said, like it was obvious. “People point, I slice. Not that deep.”

Bruce’s jaw tightened. “You were contracted to take out Mateo Vargas — that’s not random. Black Mask wants to send a message to Sal Maroni’s camp.”

Y/N blinked, just for a second. “Big words, Bat.”

“You’re in over your head,” Bruce continued. “You think your healing factor makes you untouchable, but you’re not the only weapon in Gotham.”

That made her pause.

Damian stepped forward, calm and sharp. “You recognize the alloy on the table?”

Y/N looked at the shard Bruce had silently placed beside her. Her eyes narrowed. “That’s… adamantium.”

“Exactly,” Damian said, smug. “You’re not invincible.”

Y/N scoffed. “Cute. Still wouldn’t get me to spill if I didn’t want to.”

Bruce’s voice was cool and even. “Then why are you here, talking to us?”

She glanced at Damian, smirking. “Maybe I like the view.”

Damian rolled his eyes, but there was the tiniest flush on his ears.

Bruce turned to her again. “Tell us what Black Mask is planning. We can work with you — or bring you in.”

She looked at the floor for a second, then back up at them. “You want the info? Fine. He’s planning to hit the port in two nights. Warehouse 19B. But don’t expect a thank you.”

“Why are you helping?” Bruce asked.

“Because I’m bored,” she said, smirking. “And watching Boy Wonder here get all flustered? Worth it.”

Damian scoffed and turned away, but Bruce gave her one last look — calculating — before stepping back into the shadows.

Damian stood beside her chair, arms still crossed as he watched Bruce disappear up the elevator.

Y/N tilted her head, lips tugging into a half-smirk. “So,” she said, voice lilting, “now that Dad’s gone, what’s the plan? Gonna glare at me until I confess again?”

Damian scoffed, stepping a bit closer. “I don’t need to. You already gave us what we needed.”

“Oh, right. So now what? Keep me tied up forever?” she pouted mockingly, wriggling a little in the chair. “Come on, I was cooperative. And I’m clearly not going to try anything.”

He eyed her, skeptical. “You expect me to believe that?”

She leaned forward as much as the restraints would allow, her voice dropping just slightly. “Come on, Damian. I told you what you wanted. You can handle untying a girl, can’t you?”

He didn’t move.

She gave him a look. “What, scared of me?”

“I’m cautious.”

“Oh, how boring,” she teased. “Fine, I’ll just sit here and stare at your jawline all day. Not a bad view.”

Damian rolled his eyes, but after a pause, he sighed and stepped forward. He began untying the knot around her wrist slowly, his eyes flicking up to hers.

The second her hand was free, she moved fast—grabbing his collar, yanking him down, and pressing a kiss to his lips.

“Thanks, cutie,” she whispered against his mouth, grinning.

His eyes widened. “Wait—!”

She kicked the chair back, rolled off it effortlessly, and landed in a crouch. Before he could grab her, she darted past him, flipping over the railing onto the lower platform of the Batcave with a sharp laugh.

By the time Damian reached the edge, she was already gone—into the shadows.

He stood there, stunned, lips still tingling.

“…Tt.”