#wifes who fight together (and help each other up) stay together

[channieskies]

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖁: 𝕭𝖑𝖚𝖊𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader, Jeong(Jung) Jaehyun x Reader (Fem/AFAB/Curvy/Plus sized)

Genre: Smut (eventual), Angst, Supernatural Romance, Urban Fantasy

AU: Supernatural AU, Vampire Au, Werewolf AU, Witch AU

Word count: 7061 [Reading time: 30 mins]

Networks: @neverendingdreams-net & @mirohs-aurora-society

Synopsis: You spend the day finding out about the mysterious and handsome Dr. Jay.

He washed and split sausages, putting them in a searing hot pan. “I was dying. I’d been shot center mass while  trying to protect another soldier. He had a family, his wife had just had a baby girl, he had a young son who had just started talking. I wanted him to be able to see them again, to live a long life with the ones he loved. Even if that meant I didn’t get to do the same. As I laid there, bleeding out, the sky turning from light to dusk, I noticed a man going from body to body. He hovered over each one, checking to see if they were still in the realm of the living or not. By the time he got to my body, the light was starting to fade from my eyes. I was only a few breaths away from death.” 

CHAPTER INDEX

A.N: Please reblog and leave a comment to let me know how you feel. I'd love a little feedback. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it. Special thanks to @palindrome969 and @therhythmafterthesummer for reading over this for me. I could never thank you enough. Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Disclaimer: This story does not reflect the real lives or personalities of Stray Kids or NCT. I do not know them personally. This is purely a work of fiction.

Warnings: MINORS DNI! This post contains nsfw material. Please do not interact with it if you are under the age of 18. Do not translate or repost here or on other sites. This chapter contains use of explicit language.

The roaring sound of his laughter filled the room. His head was tilted back like this was the funniest situation he’d ever been in. You would have joined in, if his laughter wasn’t at your expense. “You- you should have seen your face.” He lifted his glasses, his eyes back to their normal warm brown color, and wiped his tears. “I’m not that kind of vampire, trust me. I’m heavy on consent, so I wouldn’t do that unless you asked that of me or volunteered to be my cute little blood bank.” His lips curled into another smile as your face twisted into mortification. What the hell was his problem? “It’s a joke.” He laughed, reaching his hand out to help you up. “We are going to have to work on your sense of humor.” He took your hand in his, pulling you up and out of your seat. “I got you something to wear out, so you don’t have to do the walk of shame back home.” 

He shook a finger at you, “Out all night with a strange man and coming back home in the same clothes?” He tsked, “Naughty girl.” He smirked at his own joke, though you found no amusement in it. “I asked your mom what products you liked last night, so while you were supposed to be sleeping, I did a little shopping. Everything you need is in the guest bathroom for you.” He led you to the door and pointed you in the direction of the bathroom. “I’ll come get you in about thirty minutes. That should be sufficient time, right?” His brows knit together in thought, “It’s been a while since a woman has stayed over. Ella usually protests and will put up quite a fight.” He looked over at the cat who was casually grooming herself. “But she likes you, so you got to stay.” He had a strange habit of putting his foot in his mouth. You guessed that was the trade off for having a face like that, he was more than a little goofy. You smiled awkwardly at him and turned to leave, making your way to the bathroom as quickly as possible without looking like you were running from him. You were totally running from him.

It didn’t take you long to get washed up. When he said he got all the essentials you needed and liked, he meant that. From your favorite body wash, down to your favorite lip balm and mouthwash. Full-sized bottles of it at that. You understood he was rich, but forty dollars for a bottle of shower gel was insane no matter which way you sliced it. But you weren’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. That means it would be forty dollars less you'd have to spend. It also meant you wouldn’t have to buy a cheap dime store knock off that subsequently breaks you out, meaning you'd learn the hard lesson of you get what you pay for. All and all he saved you a trip to the doctors for an allergic reaction to some shit product  with ingredients you probably couldn't pronounce and the price of one very expensive cypress oil and black currant body wash, among some other not so pricey items. But, Dr Jay was a strange man. Or vampire, whatever he was. He talked extremely slow, like someone who was actively thinking before the words ever left his lips. His jokes- although they might be funny to you any other time- were crude and weird considering he really didn’t know you that well. His life seemed sheltered as well. From your point of view, he didn’t seem like someone who had a lot of friends. How could he be when people would inevitably grow old and die while he drank from the spring of eternal youth. 

Your thoughts were plagued by the thought of the vampire whose home you were currently occupying. You couldn’t help but have a little curiosity towards the odd man. Your mind was so caught up in thoughts of the strange doctor you nearly lost track of time. Once you felt refreshed and changed into the clothes he had gotten you, you checked over your appearance in the foggy mirror. Bags. You had enough baggage under your eyes to fill an airport baggage carousel. You hoped that maybe the mix between the expensive shower head and shower gel melted away all of the burdens that had piled up on your shoulders over the last twelve hours. Because you genuinely felt lighter, freer. Even if your face showed no indication. You stepped into the hallway, just to be greeted by Dr. Jay leaning against the banister, in a fresh change of clothes. It truly should have been unfair for anyone to look like that, especially without effort.

“You must be the opposite of your mother, you’re early.” You chuckled at that. Your mother was always late, notoriously so. “Come, I’ll make you breakfast.” You had so many questions. So many that your mind was asking them all at the same time, while simultaneously forgetting most of your other executive functions. You stood there, like a bump on a log, unmoving. He was still animatedly chatting to himself, while walking down the winding staircase. He stopped when he got to the second landing, turning around to stare at you. “I promise, I do not eat people. It’s normal human food.” Socks made her way towards the stairs at the promise of food, so you followed. “Looks like we have a taker.” He clapped his hands together and headed down the stairs towards his kitchen. “Anything in particular you like or don’t like?” He led you down a long dark hallway, only tiny specs of light poked through the blackout curtains.

“I’m not picky.” You sort of mumbled, your mind still too preoccupied with figuring out exactly what was going on here. Dr. Jay was seen out and about in daylight and he wasn’t burning up and turning into a pile of ash in the children's playroom. There was a big skylight in the middle of the room and he wasn’t sparkling like one of those teen movie vampires either. What if he wasn’t a vampire and something entirely different all together? But why would he lie? There were demons, known to be tricksters and liars. Dhampirs were half human, that would explain him being able to walk in the daylight. God forbid he be an incubus, and all of this was a ploy to get you to sleep with him. You were so wrapped up in your thoughts you didn’t see him stop and collided into his back. 

“If you have something to ask, you should ask it. It’s rude to assume.” He said with his back turned to you. “I’ll let you know that I’m a very open book.” He finally turned around to face you. This was the first time all morning that there was no amusement in his eyes. “So, what do you want to know?” He folded his arms over his chest. For an open book, his stance was very closed off, but you ignored that.

“What are you exactly?” Your eyes focused on his face, hoping you’d be able to read it.

“Vampire. A fairly young one.”

“How young?”

He tilted his head in thought. He was counting. “To be exact? Four-hundred and fifty-four. My birth was well documented, that's how I can keep up with the exact year. But it’s not in the history books like it should have been.”

Your brows furrowed. “History books?” He nodded, his face still emotionless. “Then… who are you?” The corner of his lips curled into an unamused smirk.

“I told you yesterday. I’m Jaehyun. But since you insist on calling me Dr. Jay outside of the hospital, we’ll go with that.” He shrugged it off as if that was what you meant when you asked him that. You knew his name, like he said, he told you that yesterday. But a well documented birth from over four hundred years ago meant that he had to be important or at least born to someone important. “You should eat. It’s been a while since you’ve eaten anything.” Turning on his heels, he headed deeper into the kitchen, you followed behind him.

“What happened to being an open book?” You sat at the island, elbows on the countertop as you leaned your chin on your folded palms.

He washed his hand and proceeded to pull out food and pans to cook for you. “I’m going to tell you. Be patient.” He chuckled. Once he was situated on the other side of the island with his bowl and eggs, he started. “I was born February 14th 1567 in Korea, to a prince and a royal concubine. I was their only child together.” You didn’t know why, but a prince made so much damn sense. His face alone screamed royalty. It would also explain his incredibly soft hands. A prince would never have to work a hard job a day in their life. It all adds up. 

“My maternal grandfather was the highly respected right state councilor during the time. Even though my father was an adopted prince, my grandfather thought that he would have a high chance of becoming king since the king's biological son died at a very young age. The king himself was in a coma after falling ill, so the queen dowager handled the political offers alongside her councilors. The queen despised my grandfather and by extension my mother. She felt that he was trying his best to find a way to rule from the sidelines. Truthfully, she forbade marriage between my mother and the prince. But the prince had already laid with my mother, even though they were never supposed to be alone, especially not long enough for something like that to happen. I was the first child born to him and the only one born to my mother. The royal court thought it best to keep me off of the books. I guess you never knew when you might need an illegitimate heir to the throne, right?” He chuckled breathlessly, mixing the eggs he broke in the bowl. 

“Plus, they were young and unmarried, it didn’t look good in the eyes of the council or in the court of public opinion. So, I was raised far away from the palace in one of the homes my grandfather owned. I lived a very normal life as a noble child, had the best education, and plenty of friends. But I longed for more. There had to be more to life than just being special because money or status said you were. By the time I finished my schooling at Sungkyunkwan, instead of being a scholar or becoming a junior councilman, I chose a different path for myself.” He chopped onions and mixed them with the eggs along with other ingredients. “I decided I wanted to fight. I wanted to protect my country, my people, mainly my mother, especially from people like my father. He was abusive, as were most Confucian scholars. To them it was totally suitable to beat your wife when she was misbehaving. But she wasn’t his wife and my mother was the purest soul that I’ve ever met, so misbehaving was not in her nature. Even after he married, he still would frequent our home, using her however he pleased, beating her whenever she didn’t fulfill his needs. Never giving the life he promised her, but always leaving with the promise of moving her into the palace, ‘soon’. Promising to make her the main royal concubine.” He scoffed, turned his back to you as he put the eggs in the hot earthenware bowl to cook.

“Your father sounds like a tool. Your mother deserved better. But maybe that's why you were born as her son. You were a gift from the universe, an apology for the mistake your father made. You seem like you cared about her a lot and that probably meant a lot to her.” He shrugged off your statement. “So, let me make sure I’m following along.. essentially, you are a prince, with no real claim to the throne. A spare male heir.”

“By blood, yes. By title, no. I was just someone's illegitimate child.  According to the townsfolk, I was some married man’s child. It wasn’t far from the truth, my father was in fact married. But the circumstances that they conjured up about my birth couldn’t have been further from the truth. They called my mother horrible things, shunned her into a life of isolation. It nearly drove her crazy.” He shook his head, he had moved on to washing rice, his back was towards you as he faced the sink in front of the window. Even the views from his kitchen were obstructed. Dark window dressings seemed to be covering every single speck of light that might even think of getting in.

“It nearly killed her when I told her my plans of joining the army. She told me that I was throwing my life and education away for no reason. I could see how she could feel that way. Years of her sacrificing her sanity so that I could make something of myself, just for me to throw it away and join the army. But I told her all of my reasons. That me needing to be able to protect her, was the biggest of them all. She didn’t understand and I couldn’t convince her to either. So, I joined against her wishes. I snuck off to the capital in the middle of the night, leaving only a note behind. My grandfather was the only person who knew my whereabouts. Unlike my mother he thought that this could be a good thing. He still has wishes for me to be king one day. So he made sure I made my way through the ranks quickly. I was promoted over and over,  eventually I was given a team…” 

He paused, taking rice and putting it in his rice cooker. “My early twenties were spent moving through the ranks of the central army. Though my training took place in the capital, I wished to be as far away from my father as possible. I took on different roles in different cities to stay as far away from him and his prying eyes as possible.  By that time I was twenty-five. I didn’t think…” He sighed, “I didn’t think my life in the army would end so tragically. Where I was stationed was ambushed. We were the second defense against the Japanese when they attacked, the first was the navy. They did the best they could to fight them off, they really did. All we could do was watch from the shore and wait for them to attack us.” He sighed, closing the top down on the rice cooker and setting the timer. “Just the sheer size of their army, and the weapons they were given from Europe, nearly decimated us. The ones of us they didn’t kill, they took back to Japan on turtle ships.” 

He washed and split sausages, putting them in a searing hot pan. “I was dying. I’d been shot center mass while  trying to protect another soldier. He had a family, his wife had just had a baby girl, he had a young son who had just started talking. I wanted him to be able to see them again, to live a long life with the ones he loved. Even if that meant I didn’t get to do the same. As I laid there, bleeding out, the sky turning from light to dusk, I noticed a man going from body to body. He hovered over each one, checking to see if they were still in the realm of the living or not. By the time he got to my body, the light was starting to fade from my eyes. I was only a few breaths away from death.” 

You were engrossed, listening to every word he said while waiting for your food. “He stood over me, I lifted a shaking hand to try and protect myself from whatever attack he wanted to unleash on me. He spoke, but it was Japanese and I didn’t understand that at the time. He told me to rest, that he would handle it from there.” He huffed, shaking his head. “I guess he meant what he said, My eyes slipped closed just as he knelt next to me. I couldn’t fight back even if I wanted to. That day changed the trajectory of my life. Or maybe that was how it was always supposed to go. If I had known that arguing with my mother would be the last conversation I would have with her, I would have done things differently. Maybe I would have pleaded with her to be a bit more understanding of my reasons. Maybe, I even would tell her that I loved her to her face instead of in ink on a piece of paper” He placed the cooked sausage on a small plate under a plastic cover to stay warm while he waited for your rice. You were so deeply engrossed in his storytelling that you hadn’t even noticed how fast time flew by . He turned his back to the counter, leaning against it. 

“I woke up seven days later, wishing he would have just let me die. I was in agony, it felt like my veins were on fire. Like I was melting from the inside out. I couldn’t even recognize myself. I don’t mean that in the visual sense, either. I didn’t feel like myself nor did I sound like myself. I felt like I had become a different person entirely.” He moved the steamed eggs off the stove to make sure they did not overcook. “The first few months of me being a vampire were the hardest. He, his name was Yuta, had taken me back to Japan with him, taught me the language, and helped me learn about the culture all while I was struggling to keep my darkest urges in check. Yuta was once a samurai who killed the head of the head of a household in battle. The wife and daughter of the man wanted to exact their revenge. They felt it wasn’t fair that Yuta lived while their beloved husband and father was slain. So, they called  on their gods to help drain him of all his blood, but keep him alive so that he could witness all that he loved fade to dust. It was their dying wish as they killed themselves to be with him.” 

You knew a little something about last wish curses. You were currently dealing with one yourself. “He hadn’t realized he had the power to turn people into whatever he was until his last living relative had died. But given the fact that this was meant to be a curse, I doubt he would have been able to save his loved ones even if he tried. Sadly, I think it took him losing everything for him to start saving people. He tried his best to keep me from letting my hunger consume me. Letting the fear of never seeing my mother again and the anger I felt from death swallow me whole. It was while we were living in some rural town on Kyushu Island in the Miyazaki Prefecture. He wanted to stay far away from the memories of his loved ones and I needed to be as far away from humans as possible. But it didn’t matter how far I ran from the urges, they were always there waiting for me. Those first few months I did things to satiate my insatiable hunger that I still can’t.. Get over or let go.” The rice cooker's loud chime nearly made you jump, you had blocked out everything else but him. Listening to his life story so intently even the smallest outside noise would have sent you flying off your chair.

He chuckled at your reaction and placed a paddle full of rice in your bowl before sliding it to you. With an oven mitt, he placed the earthenware bowl of eggs down in front of you and uncovered your sausages. “Juice?” You nodded, eyes shimmering over the delicious smell of food permeating into your nostrils. He poured some orange juice into a mug and sat it right next to all of your food.  Breakfast was served. 

“It took someone making me realize what damage I had done to break me out of the tragic cycle I had created. I was killing innocent people, uncaring of their circumstances, if they had a family at home. If they were good people or not. And that wasn’t like me. I died trying to protect someone, but I had thrown away all my morals when I turned. One night, while I was out hunting, I ran across a woman. Not an ordinary woman. She was beautiful, and had an alluring aura that pulled me in immediately. I lured her away from the crowded area I found her in and as I went to bite her, she looked me in the eyes, telling me she wanted to look her killer in the eye as she died. That she wouldn’t move on in the afterlife, until she got her revenge. It snapped me out of it for some reason. What had I been doing all that time, but killing people? Taking their future away from them? I had become a monster or maybe something far worse than that. I can still hear their screams. I can still hear their voices begging me to let them live. Their faces still haunt me till this day.” 

He stared blankly at the counter top as if it would reveal the answers to all of his problems, but you were sure you both knew that wouldn’t be the case. “Much like the women of your family, she was a witch. A powerful one. She helped me in more than one way that day. She asked if I wanted to atone for the things I did. If I wanted to be of service to the families and people I had hurt. She helped me track down every single person's family. I couldn’t bring their loved one back, even if I wished everyday that I could. But I gave what I could, helped how I could. But it never eased the pain in their heart or mine. I’ve been trying my hardest to atone for my sins ever since then to no avail.” A sorrowful smile spread on his lips, his eyes were pools of dark sadness that you felt like you were drowning in.

After the night you had last night, almost being eaten - and not in the good way- on the streets of New Orleans. You never thought you would be able to muster up the slightest bit of sympathy for a blood sucking demon, but here you were, feeling sad for Dr. Jay. “The kids did nothing but sing your praises yesterday. One of the girls even has an innocent crush on the handsome doctor, her words not mine. Every person I talked to yesterday sang your praises. Yes, four hundred years ago you made some mistakes, but you’ve been making amends for it since then. Even if you still have guilt for doing things that were out of your control, you have paid your debt back. You continue to do good, continue to spread positivity. It’s okay to see it that way, Dr. Jay. It’s okay to say you did and are continuing to do a good job. To be honest with you, saving kids is a lot. The fear of losing them alone would cause enough mental anguish in most people to make them reconsider being a pediatric surgeon. On that alone, your past transgressions have been wiped clean. These kids, they are the future after all. Well, maybe not so much for you… But for us humans that age, these kids are the future.” He chuckled, feeling a little bit lighter thanks to your words. “You are doing more good than a lot of people are, trust me.” He flashed his deep dimples, once again looking down at the counter as if it held the mysteries to the universe.

“Thank you. I needed that.” You gave him a smile. He certainly was an interesting man. Old man? It was a confusing concept to stay the least. He was over four-hundred years old, but still looked to be in his mid twenties. You were sure that had to cause problems for him. Never again probably meant he couldn’t stay in one place for too long. “I can’t.” Your brows knit together at his sudden outburst. Confusion written all over your face as you stared at him. “I can’t stay in one place for too long.” Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head. That was the second time that morning he’d read your mind. At first you thought that maybe your pensive face gave you away, but no, this man was invading your mental space and reading your mind.

“What the fuck?! That's a violation, Dr. Jay! Don’t read my fucking mind!” He put his hands up to defend himself as you dropped your fork to your now empty plate. He was immortal, but that didn’t mean he wanted to face the wrath of a woman with so many sharp objects in arms reach.

“Wait- wait! Before you jump to conclusions, I promise I wasn’t actively trying to read your mind. It.. just happened. It’s like hearing your thoughts as my own. It’s truly hard to describe. But please don’t think of me as weird or violating your mental space… like you said.” 

“Dude!” You threw a folded dish towel at his head, your expression bordering on being fully dismayed. “Stop that!” He laughed as you jumped down from your seat and moved around the island and over to him. Your index poked at his chest, your eyes narrowed pointedly at him.

“Get.Out.Of.My.Head!” With every word came a poke and with each poke his smile widened. “This isn’t funny!” How the hell hell did he think this was funny when you were clearly distressed? So the true bloods, and Wes Craven’s of them all were right? They could read minds? Did that mean he could also control your mind? Command you to do things you had no thoughts of doing? What the heck else could he do? Your mind was reeling. How was this scarier than finding out your best friend shifted into a wolf under the moonlight?

He grabbed your hand causing you to still. Your eyes gazed up at him as wide as saucers. You wanted to pull away but felt compelled to stay put. He must have been doing this to you. “I promise, you are the only one I hear and… it's not like I hear everything. I hear you randomly. Sometimes at the end of thoughts, other times when the thought first occurs. It's been happening since yesterday.” He let your hand slip from his once he realized you were a captive audience. “I guess it's like how you can see my past. It's not every touch, but it just happens sometimes.  Yes, I know you see my past. You all but shouted what you saw in your mind as you ran away.” It just happens sometimes? That seemed like a cop out to be honest. But being that you were both in this predicament, it was best to just believe him. Especially since it seemed to be the case for the both of you. You didn’t get flashes of his past with every brush of your skin against his, as strange as that sounded. Truthfully, you were thankful for that and thankful that he spared you all of the gory details of the life he used to live as a fledgling vampire. “I think we both had a moment of shock and realization at the hospital upon our first meeting. I’d never heard anyones inner thoughts before. It was kind of exciting, seeing you panic like that though. Every time it happens, I like to watch you spiral, it amuses me greatly.”

Your eyes couldn’t have rolled at him any harder. This man was like any other man, minus Christopher on rare occasions. Just downright annoying. “I’m beginning to get the impression we may be tied together. Destined to meet in some sort of capacity. How else can we begin to explain what is happening between us besides some sort of red string phenomenon.” His shoulders lifted in a shrug as if that was a real explanation as to why he could hear you and why you could see him and his past lives so vividly, as if you were there. “I heard you last night.. that's why I was standing outside at that hour. I'm usually inside, resisting the temptation to hunt.” You absentmindedly took a step back at that. You hadn’t even realized you were so close into his personal space. You didn’t want to be his meal after he’d made yours. But once again it was like you were drawn to him, never realizing you were skirting so close to becoming a part of him with how close you'd get to his personal bubble. 

You swallowed hard, your saliva feeling as dry as dirt as it went down your throat. “Thank you.” You cleared your parched throat. “For saving me and for the meal. It was surprisingly delicious.” Again, you cleared your throat only to be met with a glass of cold water. You’d only blinked and he'd gotten for you. “Is that your power? Speed?” He only smirked, leaving your question unanswered as he tidied up the kitchen at a normal, almost sluggish speed. What was with this guy? He kept a smile on his face, but it was flat, leaving him looking like he had a bracket for a smile. “Okay then..” You nodded, turning to head out the way you’d come in the kitchen. 

You needed to get home. You were sure your mother was going to send out a search party soon, even with you being with her doctor boss or not. “I’m heading out.” You chewed on your lip as you backed towards the door slowly. “Once again, thank you for your kindness and hospitality. If you ever need- shit, I guess I have no choice now…” You sighed thinking of how your mother told you that you now carried the burden of the family curse. Which meant that no matter what, if someone came to you, you’d inevitably have to help them. “Well if you ever need a witch, a very inexperienced one, you know who to call.” You awkwardly gave him a thumbs up and went to turn on your heels and hightail it out of there. 

“I’ll give you a ride back. I did tell your mother that I would deliver you home safely, and I keep my promises.” You didn’t know when he got next to you, but there he was, standing right by your side in the hall that led to the kitchen. “Plus, you have no idea how to get out of here, even if you try to retrace your steps. It’s a bit of a maze.” He chuckled, “You see, there is a glamour on this house. One that also keeps me protected, much like the runes in my bed chamber. Your family has done a lot of good will towards me, so I'm forever in debt to them.” 

You really didn’t think much about him bringing your great-grandmother up earlier, the man was over four hundred years old, you were sure he’d met plenty of people in his lifetime. Of course that could include your great-grandmother who lived well into her hundreds. 

“Your grandmother did the glamour. Your mother, well besides taking care of Ella, she brews special potions for me to help me sleep and to build up my tolerance for sunlight. She’s a miracle worker, really. I don’t think I would survive if it wasn’t for her. Things would be a lot harder for me, that's for sure.” It was like he’d read your mind before you even got the chance to think. Him not surviving without your mother when he’s been alive for over four hundred years sounded absolutely foolish. But if that was actually what helped his old ass sleep at night, then so be it. He chuckled, your eyes shifted to his face, wondering exactly what made him laugh. “You’re funny. You know that right?” 

Why was it that this man of all people could hear your thoughts? Good thing you weren’t thinking things that were too indecent. Because how could you explain that? “I mean, if you want to think about me in indecent ways, I wouldn’t object.” He wiggled his eyebrows at you causing you to involuntarily scoff in disgust. 

“Just take me home.” You were mentally and physically tired. The last few days were enough to drain you. But the last twenty four hours was filled with enough information to take out at least two full grown men. His jokes would normally make you chuckle, they were right on brand with your off-beat sense of humor. But right now? Right now you didn’t even want to hear him talk. No matter how attractive you thought his voice was. He kept his mouth shut after that, leading you out of the house and to his covered driveway. You’d only had the pleasure of knowing  one or two gentlemen in your life. One was your father, teaching you how a man should treat a woman. Even if none of the lessons stuck for you. The other was Chris. He had been ‘raised right,’ according to your mother. But other than the two of them, you didn’t expect any chivalry from anyone, especially the men raised in this day and age. You hand reached to open the door to his car only to be gently pushed away.

“I’ve got it-” Dr. Jay shook his head at you, grabbing the handle and opening the car door for you. 

“Not with me around you don’t” You didn’t want to smile, but your lips still curled up despite your efforts to keep them neutral. He moved back so you could get it and softly closed the door after. This was almost an unfamiliar sensation. Your exes- all of them- wouldn’t know what chivalry was even if it hit them in the face. It was almost a skill how piss poor your good man finding skills were. It was almost like you were dead set on finding the worst men possible and dating them. Like you had no other options. Chris could be an option. Maybe even someone like Dr. Jay- You stopped yourself from thinking any further past that. He could hear your thoughts, you didn’t want to give him any ideas.

The trip home was silent, minus the r&b playlist that he decided to fill the dead air with. Dr. Jay had very good taste, even if most of it was understated. His house was well decorated, but not overly so. He had a luxury car, some brand you’d never seen or heard of before,  but it looked normal from the outside. The inside told another store. It was luxury in every single sense of the word. Plush seats that warmed and cooled, leather interior, and a super high tech center console. You kind of wondered how much of your body you’d have to sell to afford luxury like this in your lifetime, because there was no way you’d be able to buy something like this one minimum wage. Even his music taste was good, but very normal. Nothing about him screamed ‘I’m over four hundred years old’. Truthfully, minus being a doctor and being a bit of a gentleman, he could fit right in with the twenty-somethings you went to college with. Dr. Jay was odd, but very normal concurrently. If you were being totally honest with yourself - which given the weird way you both have had to get to know one another- you would almost say you like being around him. He wasn’t a terrible company keeper. You could see why so many people liked him, if you subtracted out the ones who were very besotted with his striking visage. But even then, you’d give them a pass, because he was gorgeous- even if you’d never ever admit that out loud again. One time was embarrassing and good enough for you.

His car came to a stop in front of your mother's house. You couldn’t shake the nervousness that started to rattle you a few blocks from home. It was a new day, but so much had happened over the last twenty-four hours, you weren’t sure if you could say you were the same person you were yesterday or the day before. “You don’t need to be worried.” He turned the car off, shifting his body towards you. “I didn’t have to read your mind to see the signs of your anxiousness.” He reached his hand out with no hesitation, taking your shaking hand in his. “Your mother is one of the kindest people I know. Vampire, human, and witch alike.” His hand was warm, despite his disposition. Your hand felt good in his. “She’s also understanding. You left home last night in need of some space, and I’m sure she understood that. She just wants to see you safe, you are her baby after all.” He mocked your mother teasingly and you chuckled. She really did say it like that. “We didn’t get your toiletries bag from the house.” He frowned a bit, realizing he had forgotten something, “It can stay there, just in case you need an escape from your witch duties. That is if you want.” You couldn’t deny spending time with Dr. Jay wasn't as bad as you thought it would be. He was an interesting character, yes, but he was also nice to be around. Comforting, almost. You nodded, eyes traveling down to your hand that was still in his grasp. He hadn’t let go, and you made no move to separate yourself from him or get out of the car. 

He tore his attention from you, a faint smile appearing on his lips. “Your mom doesn’t look like she got any sleep last night.” He chuckled, noting her very visible bags, even from the porch. “I guess you two do have a lot in common.” In mock offense, you moved your hand from his just to push him lightly. Your laughs fill the space of the car. “Come on, I’ll walk you to the door.” You nodded, finally feeling at ease enough to head inside. Like before, he came and opened your door, extending a hand this time to help you out. “You are welcome at my home any time, Y/n.” You smiled at him, thankful for his kindness and generosity.

“Thanks, Dr-...” You paused for a second. After the night and morning you’d had it made no sense to keep calling this man by his professional title. He was friendly enough to you that you could almost say you were friends. “Thanks, Jaehyun.” His eyes lit up as you said his name, the dimples on his cheeks deepening. It was clear you saying his name made him a little shy, even if he had no blood to rush to his dead cheeks. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me-” 

“Y/n.” Your words were cut off by the sudden interruption. You tore your eyes from your new friend to focus on the one you knew the most about. “It’s time to come into the house.” His voice was rough as he spoke to you. Eyes narrowed at something in your direction. There were few times you’d seen him upset, but for the most part Chris kept his cool. But his body was tense, there was anger flaring up in his eyes, tension in his jaw. His fists clenched as he took a step off the porch. You mother, grabbing her robe with one hand, used the other to stop Chris from going any further. “Now.”  You followed his eyes, finally understanding what had him so bothered. Jaehyun.

“He’s right. You should get inside.” The smirk that Jaehyun sported was nothing short of sinister. “Wouldn’t want your pup to get upset, now would we.” His deep chuckle sent chills up your spin. “I hope you get some rest, beautiful.” He decided to lay it on thick. He wanted to exacerbate Chris’ already heightened anger. He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, eyes focused solely on Christopher. “Later.” He softly chuckled all the way back to his car. You stood there unmoving, even as he drove off and his car disappeared around the corner. You were unsure what just took place. Did they know one another? Or was there really some ongoing dispute between vampire and werewolf kind? You just found out they really existed, you didn’t know how you’d deal with Twilight being halfways true.

Your mother rushed down the stairs to you. She and Chris communicated with their eyes, unbeknownst to you. “You made me worried last night. I haven’t gotten a wink of sleep because of your shenanigans, young lady.” She comforted you, holding you tightly in her arms all while chastising you at the same time. She was such a mom. “My gosh, look at your bags.” She chuckled softly, rubbing the skin of your cheeks with her thumbs. “Looks like we both need an eight hour nap.” She grabbed your hand, pulling you along with her into the house. Your eyes settled on Chris who was still standing there on the porch, trying his best to regulate the anger that the doctor had caused him

“We’ll talk later.” You nodded, agreeing to shelf a much needed conversation for later. But you were certainly afraid of what your dear friend had to say.

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© ✐Channieskies 『MINORS DNI! This post contains nsfw material. Please do not interact with it if you are under the age of 18. Do not translate or repost here or on other sites. Please leave a like , comment, and reblog if you enjoyed this story.♥』

[xpiranesi]

[lyjen]

Drowning

Summary: Evan’s wife is an Elementary school teacher, but when a shooter enters the school and starts shooting at teachers, (Y/n) is the first person to help. Evan gets worried as his wife doesn’t pick up her phone, but as soon as the shooting reaches the news Evan is desperate to find out where she is.

Request by: anonymous - The request

9-1-1 masterlist

Taglist: @oliviah-25 @shauna-carsley

______

“So I want you to both be thinking about it. Put those two brains together, I want you to solve it and be able to explain how you solved it” (Y/n) finished her math instruction. “I’m going to give you two minutes to try and solve this question, you’re ready?” Her voice sounded through the classroom as she clicked on start on the timer which was displayed on the screen.

(Y/n) was an elementary school teacher, she teaches the fifth grade to be specific. She has her own classroom, a teacher assistant intern, and a really good bond with her students. She loves her job, she really does. There’s nothing in the world she’d rather be doing than working with children. Her husband, on the other hand, loved being a firefighter. It was his life, and in his words: he wouldn’t know where he’d be if he never started the fire academy.

When one of the kids asked her if she had a boyfriend, she told them she was married to a firefighter. The students were so enthusiastic and full of questions, so she decided to take the kids to the firehouse one day, to teach them about firefighters, dispatch and everything Bobby had to tell.

“Okay, so some of you came up with an answer and a solution.” She speaks to the group as she holds up her hand, motioning to the kids who were ready to throw their answer to her head, to hold up their hands. “Do we have a volunteer to tell us what answer they got and how they got it?” multiple hands had gone up into the air, but those hands quickly were put down when loud screams sounded through the hallways.

But it was the gunshot that went off after that which caught her attention the most. Her eyes shot towards her teacher assistant Katy, who was sitting at the desk grading some homework as she immediately dropped the pen. Katy’s eyes went wide when she realized what was happening while multiple gasps from the students filled the silence in the room.The gunshot sent a shiver down (Y/n)’s whole body, as she remembered the three words: Run, hide, fight.

That was the protocol. Run if you can, hide if you can not evacuate safely and fight if your life is in danger.

“Everyone. Hide underneath your desks” She said softly as she tried to stay as calm as she possibly could.

The students all get off their seats and follow their teachers instructions as Katy runs off to the windows and closes the blinds. Meanwhile (Y/n) gets the remote for the screen and quickly shuts it off and runs towards the lightswitch to turn it off.

“Katy, help me move this” she says as she tries to push a mid-high bookcase in front of the door to barricade it. Katy quickly moves towards (Y/n) and helps her move the cabinet, so no one would be able to get in or out of the classroom.

When the cabinet was on the right spot, (Y/n) made her way towards the kids to make sure they were okay.

“You’re okay, we’re going to be fine” (Y/n) whispered softly to one of the students who was having a breakdown. She took place on the ground and folded her legs over each other, and she rubbed her hands over the kid’s upper arm, as a sign that she was there. They were not alone.

She let her fingers wipe away the tears of the girl’s cheeks and tried to hush her. She didn’t want to draw any attention. The girl almost started hyperventilating because she was that scared. “Amelia I need you to take slow deep breaths” (Y/n) whispered almost inaudibly. The girl nodded her head as she tried to copy her teacher’s breathing pattern. “Good, through your nose and out through the mouth” (Y/n) complimented her.

Huddled up with some kids to her side, (Y/n) tried her best to calm down the kids who were having a hard time to deal with the situation. Students around her were silently crying, while they were comforting themselves and each other.

There was an ear deafening silence floating through the classroom. They could practically hear the clock on the wall, ticking after each minute that had gone by.

With every footstep she heard on the hallway outside of the classroom, (Y/n)’s heart would skip a beat. There could be children running for their lives, other teachers or the shooter choosing their next victim.

After minutes, maybe even an hour of sitting in silence, a high pitched yelp sounds through the walls of her classroom. But that scream gets cut off by a sudden gunshot. More gasps and sobs sound softly through the classroom. With wide eyes (Y/n) tries to focus on the sound of the hallway.

“No. No, what are you going to do?!” Katy’s voice whispered desperately as (Y/n) crouched down and made her way towards the door of her classroom. The assistant crawled her way towards (Y/n), who was down at the door. Looking through the little gap between the window of the door and the bookcase.

(Y/n) glances through the window and spots a fellow teacher, down on the ground while a puddle of blood is being created underneath her. “Don’t be a hero” Katy says as softly as she possibly could.

She turned her head at Katy, “She’s hurt and needs help, I can’t just leave her to..” she shrugged her shoulders, she couldn’t say die. Not with her kids around, not when they were already traumatized enough by the sounds “You know..” she continued as she shrugged her shoulders.

She couldn’t do nothing. That was not who she was.

“But the shooter is still out there.” Katy says as she desperately starts to look around her. “That’s why I need you to stay here and keep them safe” (Y/n) whispered as she pointed out at her class. Katy shook her head with a frightened look in her eyes “No.. I can’t do that” Katy sighed as she looked at the kids.

“It wasn’t a question Katy, stay here and keep them safe. Close the door behind me” She repeated one more time as she looked at her over the shoulder.

With both her hands she moved the bookcase on one end a little backwards so she was able to squeeze through the gap of the door. Her hand reached for the lever of the door, as she as silently as possible pulled the lever down and squeezed her body through the door. (Y/n) could hear the door close behind her.

Still crouching, she made her way towards her colleague and let her knees drop to the ground when she reached her. “You’re gonna be okay” she said, barely inaudible as she made eye contact with her. The teacher had lost a lot of blood, the puddle was becoming bigger with the second.

The female teacher had been shot in the chest. (Y/n) went with her first instinct, putting pressure on the wound. Without thinking, she pressed her bare hands onto the chest of the woman. The woman winced and hissed at the pain that was being pushed onto her gunshot wound. “I know it hurts, but you have to stay with me okay?” (Y/n) said as her eyes wandered from the wound to the woman’s eyes.

She was on the edge of passing out. (Y/n) could tell. The woman was blinking so fast, and she looked exhausted. “Shit” (Y/n) cursed as the eyes of the woman rolled to the back of her head. Quickly she pressed two fingers of her right hand into the skin of the neck to see if she had a pulse.

Her heart was still beating, which meant she just had to put pressure onto the wound. So the heart would have enough blood to pump around.

But then the feeling of a cold metal getting pressed onto her skin spreads a shiver down her entire body. Her mouth suddenly went dry and her heart was pounding in her chest, as if it was trying to break free from her chest.

(Y/n) was frozen in her position, hovering over the woman. Putting pressure to the wound which was still trying to bleed through the small gaps between her fingers..

“Let go” the sound of a low male voice said.

She swallowed, as she felt the metal being pushed, deeper into her skin. She slightly shook her head, “You don’t have to do this” she slowly said as she kept as still as possible. “I do, everyone in this building has to pay for what they did for me.”

A click sounded. He reloaded his gun. Just one click away from a bullet inside of her head.

“I get it.” her voice said as she felt her breathing become faster because of the adrenaline. “When they don’t see you. And no one is there to help.” She squeezed her eyes closed at the pressure of the gun that was being pushed into the side of her forehead.

“Shut. Up.” His voice hissed at (Y/n).

Tears were falling down her face as she tried to keep enough pressure on the wound of the woman. “Struggling every single day of your life, trying to find a reason to be here”

“I said shut up!” he yelled as he fired a warning shot into the concrete walls of the hallway.

She flinched at the sudden gunshot. But she didn’t stop. She didn’t give up. She needed to try, and enter his mind. Try to talk him out of it, or buy herself more time. “The bucket will fill itself with more and more water everyday. And one day, that bucket will overflow.” She tried to remain strong as her voice became more trembling by every word she spoke.

The man pushes the gun once again into her skin, the muzzle still a little warm because of the bullet that popped out a few seconds ago. A click sounds as he reloads another bullet. “And you’ll realize that you’ve been drowning.. and if there’s no one to reach out their hand...” she squeezed her eyes shut as she remained silent for a second and another tear escaped the corner of her eye.

Multiple gunshots sounded through the hallway of the school as the gun, which the shooter was holding against her head fell down to the ground together with the body of the shooter.

A gasp left her mouth as the bullets whooshed along her ears. She glanced over her shoulder and saw the body of the shooter lying behind her on his back. Lifeless.

Everything that was happening was moving in slow motion. When she looked in front of her she could see multiple swat soldiers entering the hallway with their guns pointed towards the man behind her.

“Suspect is down” one of the soldiers said into their radio’s as they made their way towards (Y/n) and the shooter.

With two paramedics following the soldiers, the paramedics kneeled down next to the female teacher which (Y/n) tried to save her life. The paramedics put down their medic bags beside them and zipped the bag open as they grabbed some gauze.

“You can let go now. We’ve got her.” the male paramedic said as he tried to get her attention by putting his hand onto her shoulder. (Y/n) was still in shock. How did she survive this? Why didn’t he just shoot her when he had the chance? Why listen to her words?

“Sorry” she said as she got back to earth. She slowly retreated her hands back to her own body as the paramedic quickly pressed the gauze down onto the wound. (Y/n) slightly flinched as she felt a hand curling around her bicep, pulling her up to her feet and escorting her down the hall to the open world. She let them. She was too shaken up to try and fight or ask questions.

______

“Hi this is (Y/n)’s phone, please leave a message after the tone!” Her voice sounded through the speaker of Evan’s phone as he ended the call before the tone could ring into his ear.

A sigh leaves Evan’s mouth as he continues to send her a text, asking her to call him back when she can.

Hen walks into the kitchen when a frown morphed onto her face. “Hey you okay?” She asked when she noticed Evan’s slightly worried face that was focussed on his phone.

Evan clicks on the send button as he slips his phone back into his pocket, and he curls his fingers around the glass of water he had made.

“I’m fine..” he sighs as he leans with his forearms onto the kitchen counter. “I have just tried to call (Y/n) multiple times but she doesn’t answer. Normally she would’ve called me back by now”

They called everyday, especially when Evan was on shift. She would call him after school had come to an end and all kids had left the classroom.

“You think I’m crazy, don’t you?” Evan laughed at himself as he shook his head. He sounded like he was going insane. As if he couldn’t live without her. But it was a routine, so when that routine gets interrupted, it feels weird.

Normally Evan was the one to not pick up, when he was on a call. But he always called her back when they were back at the firehouse. Sometimes it could take hours, but it could also be minutes. It depended on the call of course.

“No not at all.. I’m sure she will call you back, maybe she’s talking to a parent or she’s just busy.” Hen touches Evan’s upper arm as she tries to reassure him that his wife is okay.

“Yeah, you’re right..” Evan pushed himself off the kitchen counter, he grabbed his glass and walked towards the sofas. “Maybe I’m being a little bit paranoid, she’s fine..” Evan glances at Hen who gives him a nod and a pat on his shoulder.

“Turn the volume up” Eddie says as Chimney grabs the remote and quickly turns up the volume by pressing down on the button.

“We just confirmed that about two hours ago, there has been a school shooting here in Los Angeles. The remarkable thing is that the school where this happened, was an elementary school”

“Jesus” Eddie sighs.

“The police have confirmed that after about an hour and a half after the shooter had fired the first bullet, they shot down the shooter. The name of the school where this happened is the Great Oak Elementary School. Parents are arriving at the school now to pick up their kids. There’s one wounded teacher and two casualties, both were working at the school.”

“That’s horrible. Imagine you see this on the news and you have to pick up your traumatized child.” Hen says as she continues to listen to the tv.

“Can’t imagine what that must feel like” Eddie’s voice sounds through the room.

Evan was intensely thinking. Why was that name so familiar? What was it about that school that made him think that he had a connection to it? He didn’t have any kids, at least not yet. “Wait what school did they say?” Evan double checked the name with his team, to see if he heard them correctly.

“I think it was Great Oak Elementary School” Chimney says as he focuses again onto the television screen.

Evan’s heart dropped in his chest. As soon as he heard that name fall off the lips of his colleague's mouth, it felt like all of the air he had in his lungs was getting pushed out. Everything's coming together now.

It was the school his wife worked for.

“But why even an elementary school, not that any school would’ve been any better or different. But we’re talking about ages 5 to 10 years old. Those children are going to be scarred for life” Eddie’s dull voice sounded over the loft into Evan’s ears.

No texts, no calls, nothing.

Evan’s hearing is dull, everything is still continuing on the back of his mind but his brain is working over hours now. Making up all different kinds of scenarios of what could’ve happened in that school. “Wow Buck, you alright?” Another dull voice rang through his ears.

Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder, he flinched at the sudden touch and his eyes connected with Hen’s as he turned his head towards her. A frightened look was spread over his face as he tried to control his breathing.

He looked down to his feet, which were suddenly wet and cold. He realizes he had dropped his glass of water down to the ground. His boots are now soaking wet, with the water dripping down his pipes. But that was the last thing he was worried about right now.

His brain filled with all different kinds of scenarios were running through his mind. “(Y/n)” he mumbled through his panicked breaths as he tried to look at Hen, who was still pressing her hand onto his shoulder while her other hand was curled around his upper arm.

“Oh no..” Hen said as he puzzled the pieces together. Finally realizing what was happening and what Evan meant.

Bobby’s voice sounded through the space as he stepped onto the loft “What’s happening?”

“There has been a school shooting at Great Oaks Elementary. The school where Buck’s wife works” Hen quickly explained to Bobby as she held her grip onto Evan’s upper arm.

Evan’s eyes that were full of worry wandered towards his captain's eyes who was coming closer towards him every second. “She isn’t answering any of my calls or texts. And I’m not waiting for the hospital to call me and tell me that she’s..” Evan sighs at the worst case scenario that was in his mind.

“Please Bobby. I need to go. I need to see for myself if she’s okay.” Evan’s broken voice sounded.

“Look Buck, I get it. But you don’t have to do this on your own. We’re coming with you, whether you like it or not. (Y/n) is our family too.” Bobby says as he softly squeezed Evan’s shoulder. A small smile spread across Evan’s face as those words left Bobby’s mouth.

“Let’s go and find (Y/n)” Bobby says as he patted his hand onto Evan’s shoulder as a sign to go.

-

“What do you mean she isn’t here?” Evan says after Athena finished her conclusion. “I just told you, every teacher that was here on school grounds during the shooting has been checked by paramedics, and are now sitting in a room. They’re getting the information they need if they want help. But I’ve seen every teacher in that room, and she wasn’t there Buck, only her teaching assistant Katy.” Athena continues her explanation.

“Well, have you asked Katy if she knows anything about the whereabouts of my wife?” Evan asks, maybe a little annoyed. “No, not yet. I’m waiting for the professionals to finish their job. And after that, I’ll see if Katy is willing to talk” She calmly answers Evan’s question.

“How long is that gonna take?” Evan sighs as he puts his hands on his hips. He’s losing his patience. This is taking too long. “I’m sure they’re almost done, this should only take a few more minutes” Athena reassured him.

“I don’t have time for this.. what if Katy doesn’t know where she is? This might lead to a dead end.” Evan tries to stop himself from panicking, as he rushes a hand through his short curly hair. He had to do something. He couldn’t just stand there and wait on a teaching assistant who maybe doesn't have an answer to their questions.

Evan quickly turned around and slid his phone out of his pocket. He had to try it, at least one more time. He clicks on the green icon and clicks on her name, impatiently he presses the phone against his ear. Maybe she did have it with her.. right?

“Buck..” Evan could hear Bobby sigh as he was walking away from his team.

Evan listens to the sound of the phone beeping, trying to connect with the other phone. He was pacing through one of the hallways, silently listening to the beeps of the phone. Evan’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he could hear a ringtone going off from a distance. Was that someone else’s phone or was that the phone he was trying to reach?

The ringtone stopped playing when Evan was being sent to voicemail. He quickly presses the red button, and decides to try and call the phone again.

Once more the same ringtone sounds through the hallway.

Evan follows the sound, making his way through the hallways until after multiple times of calling her phone, he reaches the door of a classroom. The tone sounded loudly through the space of the room.

Evan stepped into the classroom and walked towards the desk where the phone was buzzing. “There you are..” Evan whispered to himself as he grabbed the phone and frowned at the idea of his wife leaving her phone behind. She never leaves her phone behind.

He shoved his own phone into his pocket as he made his way back towards his team who were now talking with a young woman, probably Katy.

“Can we please ask you a few questions?” Evan could hear Athena ask the TA, who nodded at her question. “When was the last time you saw (Y/n)?” Athena continued to ask her. “During the shooting, we were all hiding inside the classroom just like protocol said. And she told me to watch the kids.. she went to help the lady who was shot outside of our classroom. I heard multiple gunshots, when I was alone with the kids. But I haven’t seen her since she told me to watch them.” Katy explains.

Evan could feel his knees trembling, like they were suddenly turning into Jell-o.

“That’s everything I know” Katy says as she shrugs her shoulders. “It’s okay, thank you Katy. If something pops into your mind, give me a call” Athena says as she gives Katy her card with her contact details and Katy walks away.

“Alright, there’s two things we can do. One, we go to the hospital and check if she may be in the ER. Or two, we go check the..-” Athena gets cut off by Evan’s voice.

“Morgue” Evan finished Athena’s sentence and shook his head. “We’re going to the ER of the nearest hospital, she’s not dead. She can’t be.” Evan continued. “Buck.” Bobby’s voice spoke up when Evan wiped his hand against his forehead, as if it helped him to get rid of the thought of his wife being dead. “I refuse to believe that she’s dead, I want to go to the hospital” Evan states as he could hear his own voice trembling.

Evan felt Bobby’s hand landing onto his shoulder. “It’s your decision to make Buck, if you want to go to the hospital, we go to the hospital” Bobby said as he looked into Evan’s eyes again. Evan nodded. He made his decision.

The drive towards the nearest hospital was silent, but when the truck pulled to a stop Evan’s hand reached for the door and he jumped out as fast as he could.

He had waited long enough. He needed his answers now.

Before the rest of his team got out of the truck, Evan had already gone through the glass doors. Evan came to a stop at the nurse station, using his hands as a brake by pressing it against the desk.

“Hi, I’m looking for (Y/n) Buckley” he panted as he focussed on the nurse who was scrolling through the documents of people who had gotten in.

“Evan?” her familiar voice sounds through his ears. His eyes went wide as he heard that voice he had hoped to hear through the phone the first time he called her. He pushed himself off the desk he was leaning on and followed her voice.

“(Y/n)?” he softly said as he looked around him. When his eyes connected with hers, his heart skipped a beat. She was alive. Just like he said.

“Evan” she sighed as she finally saw her husband's face. Evan basically sprinted towards (Y/n) as he heard her broken voice say his name. Her knees were trembling, and were on the edge of giving in. “Hey! Hey! I’m here!” Evan panted as he curled his arms around his wife and she collapsed into his arms.

She was sobbing as soon as she felt his arms curled around her body and she tightened her grip around his body, like he was the only thing to keep her from drowning. He was the hand she had to hold onto. “I’m here” Evan let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding this entire time.

He let his hand cup the back of her head and he pressed his lips against her hair.

He slowly pulled back, but his arms remained around her body. He wasn’t letting her go. The hand he had pressed against the back of her head, wandered to her cheek as he wiped away her tears.

“W-what are you doing here? Are you hurt?” he stumbled as he quickly checked her on any wounds. She shook her head as she placed both of her hands down onto his chest. “No, I’m okay” she gasped through her tears.

When Evan’s eyes fell onto her hands, which were now placed on his chest, he noticed her hands which were still covered in dried blood.

He placed his hands over hers as he softly grabbed her hand and started inspecting it. “It isn’t mine” she sighed as she tried to reconnect her eyes with Evan’s, who was focussed on making sure his wife wasn’t hurt.

“Then whose blood is that?” Evan’s voice asked, concerned when his eyes remained on her hands. “T-the woman who had been shot..” she said as she tried to catch her breath. Evan’s eyes furrowed “I helped her..” in the middle of her sentence, she stopped talking. “I kept her alive, even with a gun pointed at my head” she continued.

She could hear the gunshots going off in the back of her mind, the explanation she had just given her husband brought her right back to that place. So much has happened in those few minutes, she barely had time to process everything that happened in such a short time.

Tears were streaming down her face as she was reminded of the incident. “He wanted to shoot me in the head”

“Oh baby..” a loud sigh left his lips as he pressed a kiss onto her forehead. “You did so good” he mumbled against her forehead as he pressed another kiss onto it and pulled his wife back into an embrace.

“I was so scared Evan, I really thought this is it.. that everything I did, was for the last time” (Y/n) sobbed as she locked her arms around his body once again and her head pressed against his broad chest. “But you fought like hell, like I knew you would. You fought for that woman, for the students, yourself and me. You fought your way back to me.” Evan said as he pulled away a little, so her head wouldn’t be touching his chest anymore and he could place both his hands onto her cheeks.

“You’re so much stronger than you think you are.”

______

A gasp fell off (Y/n)’s lips as a gunshot roared through the back of her mind. Her eyes were suddenly wide open and her entire body was drenched in sweat. She let her hands fall against her face as she sighed. It was just another dream, a nightmare to be more specific.

It had been weeks since the shooting on the Great Oak Elementary School, but what happened that day, was still haunting her until today.

Falling asleep was a problem at first, the first nights after the incident, she was all wrapped around Evan. Trying to get her to sleep like she was a baby that couldn’t find the right spot to sleep on.

Evan worked twenty four hour shifts, he couldn’t just go home in the middle of shift, in the middle of the night to help his wife to fall asleep at night. So sometimes, (Y/n) wouldn’t sleep at all at night, she would just wait until he came home and the second Evan was home she would doze off.

But now, it’s the constant nightmares she had. Every dream she had wasn’t the same, it’s not like she had the same nightmare over and over again on loop. No, she was having different kinds of scenario’s everytime she closed her eyes.

She let her hands fall down onto the mattress as she glanced at Evan who was peacefully asleep on his side of the bed. (Y/n) threw off the blanket and swung her feet over the side of the bed and grasped the first hoodie she saw lying down on the floor. The hoodie was a little oversized and fell over her bum.

(Y/n) stepped down the stairs of the loft and flicked on the kettle to make some tea. Maybe that would help her calm down. With her back towards the living room, she pressed her elbows down onto the flat surface of the kitchen counter.

She was tired, but couldn’t sleep. Not if she was having these nightmares, everytime she closed her eyes. (Y/n) let her head rest between her hands as she closes her eyes for a second, just to try and let the stress exit her body while the water was boiling.

Evan groaned as he turned around in bed and let his arm find the body of his wife. When his arm connected with the jumpy mattress, he pushed his head off the pillow as a confused frown was spread across his face. He wasn't expecting his arm to find the mattress, he was waiting for his arm to connect with (Y/n)’s body.

He lets his arm swipe along the mattress again to make sure she wasn’t somewhere else on the mattress. Evan turns his body and reaches out to turn on the night lamp on his nightstand. He squeezed his eyes as he tried to adjust his eyes to the bright light on his nightstand and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

Evan swung his legs over the side of the bed as he stood up to make his way downstairs, determined to find his wife. When he silently stepped down the stairs, he smiled at the way she was standing. A Los Angeles Fire Department hoodie to keep her comfortable, her eyes closed as she was leaning on her hands. While the kettle was releasing steam as it was finished boiling.

A groan left her lips as she felt a hand curled around her hip and his chin was leaning on her shoulder. Her hand reached behind her as she tried to find Evan’s arm. “Can’t sleep?” his sleepy voice asked, with his eyes still closed as he was still trying to wake up.

“Yeah” she whispered as she nodded at his question, and she placed her other hand down on his cheek as he was still leaning with his chin onto her shoulder.

“Still having those nightmares huh?” He asked her as he pressed a kiss on the palm of her hand that was resting on his face.

“Yeah, what’s new..” she sighed, she had the feeling those nightmares weren’t going away anytime soon anyways. She grabbed a cup from the upper cabinet, placed it onto the counter and started to pour water from the kettle into it.

When the cup was full enough, she placed the kettle back. “Evan?” Her soft voice sounded raspy.

“Hmm?” Evan hummed as he slightly opened his eyes to check on his wife. His arm was still wrapped around her, curved around her hip. She swallowed loudly.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this..” she whispered as she placed both of her hands flat against the counter as she stared right in front of her.

Evan’s hand started to come loose from her hip, as he let his lower back fall against the kitchen island, which was placed on the other side of the kitchen counter (Y/n) was making her tea on.

He folded his arms over each other as he leaned against the kitchen cabinets. “You mean the nightmares, right?” Evan needed a confirmation that he knew she was talking about.

She felt Evan leaving her side. But she couldn’t look at him without breaking down. So she remained standing with her back towards Evan. “No.. I meant, being a teacher.” She said as she started to make circles with her finger onto the kitchen counter.

“What? What do you mean? You love being a teacher” Evan said as he tried to make eye contact again. But she wouldn’t turn around.

She shook her head as she sighed, trying to keep her tears from falling down. “That was before this all happened. You know how exhausting it is to be wary of every single thing around you?” she sniffled as she turned her face towards the ceiling, trying everything in her power to not show her tears, or show her fear.

With her sleeves falling over her hands, she wiped the small tears away that had started rolling down her cheeks. “Every time before I even enter the school my throat goes dry, I start sweating and I can’t stop myself from shaking” she tried to say through her tears and sobs.

She turned her body, and let herself slide against the kitchen doors, dropping to the ground as she cried even harder. “I’m sick and tired of flinching at every sudden sound I hear. I can’t sleep, because any time when I close my eyes, even if it’s just for one silly second, I’m there again. With a gun against my head.” she confessed.

(Y/n) let the back of her head lean against the kitchen cabinet as she felt Evan coming closer, while she looked at the ceiling again. Trying to get rid of the tears that showed her biggest fears and weaknesses. “I can’t do this anymore Evan” she sobbed as she pressed her palms against her face. All she wanted to do was hide.

It feels like she’s drowning, drowning into her own fear and tears. The fear is over taking her like waves of the ocean, if no one would reach out that hand to help her.. she might drown.

“No.. you’re scared. And I get your reaction, but we don’t always make the best decisions when we’re operating out of fear” Evan spoke up as he curled his arm around her knee.

A sigh leaves Evan’s mouth as he tries to think of the right thing to say. “I know how hard it is to get over something so traumatizing, that you don’t know what you’re doing it for no more” he said as he tightened his arm around her knee. “But what happened could have happened anywhere. At the grocery store, in our own home, hell even at the fire station” Evan continued as he tried to get her attention, but she was too emotional to make eye contact.

She could hear every word he said, every breath he took, every moment of silence he needed, to think of what he was going to say next.

“So I need you to stop saying that you can’t do this. Because I know you can. You’re one of the strongest women I know. And I’m so proud to call you my wife. But right now, I need you to grab my hand and trust me when I say that we’ll figure this out.” tears were starting to well in Evan’s eyes as he quickly wiped his finger underneath his eyes to get rid of the tears he felt, as they were about to roll over his cheeks.

Evan loosened his grip around her knee as he reached out his hand, with his palm faced towards the ceiling. “We do this together, just like we did all the times I got hurt and didn’t know what to do” Evan said as he lowered his head, trying to get her eyes connected with him again.

Silence took over the space they were in.

Evan’s hand was still dangling between her knees as he waited for her attention and answer. “Together?” he asked one more time.

A soft smile made its way onto her face, as she nodded. “Together.” she said determined and placed her hand onto his as Evan sent her a small smile her way.

She had helped him countless times, now it was his turn to help her.

[seospicybin]

TILL DEATH DO US PART.

Lee Know x reader. (s)

Synopsis: You and Minho head to a cabin for a weekend getaway but beneath the seemingly normal relationship, both harbor dark secrets and hidden desires to end the marriage by any means necessary. (13,1k words)

Author's note: Happy birthday to the poster boy to my spooky Halloween fics, Lee Know 🦇

Content warning: Violence, graphic imagery, blood, toxic romance. Readers discretion is advised!

Minho wants to kill you.

He’s reached the point where he can no longer tolerate you. You've crossed the line of things you shouldn’t do and checked off every item that finally leads him to this decision: he wants to kill you. He carefully crafts a plan, asking himself all the basic questions.

What? A plan to kill you.

Minho has been holding back his rage, but it keeps mounting and mounting. He believes that ending your life will release it all, finally bringing him peace. He thinks of it as a purge, sending you to your demise to purify his soul.

Who? It’s you.

You'll be the victim of his plan. His wife, the one he no longer wants to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish. But the ‘till death do us part’—he’ll gladly do that himself, with his own bare hands.

And it’s him who's going to kill you.

Minho considered hiring a contract killer—it would’ve been easy, and he could have kept his hands clean. But the little compassion he has left for you tells him this needs to be done personally, and in private. No one has to know the terrible things you've done to make him want to kill you.

As a husband, the least he can do is protect your dignity as his wife.

And as a killer, he’ll try to make it quick and painless.

When? This weekend.

Last night, before bed, he told you he wanted to spend the weekend together. You didn’t ask why, just agreed right away. You needed time away to memorize and practice your lines for the short film you’ll be starring in at the end of the month.

Minho has barely begun but his plan is already in motion.

-

Minho sees you lugging a duffel bag in one hand and your purse in the other. Without hesitation, he strides over to help.

“Let me take that,” he offers, snatching the duffel from your hand.

You flash him a smile and plant a quick kiss on his cheek. “Thanks, honey.”

While you settle into the car, Minho places your duffel in the trunk next to his own bag. He unzips his bag briefly to double-check the contents: all the tools he needs for the weekend—sharp, heavy, and metallic—gleam in the sunlight as it hits them. He zips it up and slams the trunk shut, ready for the three-hour drive ahead.

You, already comfortable in the passenger seat, put on your sunglasses and prop your feet against the dashboard. Flipping through the script in your lap, you chew gum obnoxiously, popping bubbles every few minutes, each burst louder than the last.

“There are snacks in the backseat,” Minho says, hoping to distract you from the gum.

You turn just enough to see the stash of chips, drinks, and bottles of wine. Supplies he bought for the weekend in the cabin. Without much interest, you go back to reading.

“I bought your favorite,” he tries again.

“I concentrate better when I’m chewing gum,” you respond flatly, flipping the page.

Minho grits his teeth but stays silent. You hear the scoff he doesn’t manage to suppress.

Dropping your feet to the floor, you snap the script closed, marking your place with a finger. Turning toward him slightly, you say, “It’s scientifically proven that chewing gum improves concentration in visual memory tasks. Surprised you didn’t know that, being a doctor and all.”

Though you aren’t looking, he knows you're wearing that condescending smile, the one that implies you’re smarter than him. It’s a look he’s grown used to over the years, but today it grates more than ever.

Minho’s fingers tighten around the steering wheel. He fights the urge to jerk the wheel into a tree—just one hard turn would wipe that smug grin off your face. But no, that’s too messy and he’s not ready to blow his plan just yet.

He inhales deeply to steady his nerves. “What kind of movie are you working on this time?” he asks, pretending to show interest.

You raise a brow at his sudden curiosity but answer anyway. “It’s a thriller.”

“What’s it about?” Minho presses, not because he cares, but because he needs to keep you talking. Anything to shut you up about the gum.

“A girl gets kidnapped and held in a basement,” you explain briefly, scribbling notes in your script.

Minho forces himself to feign interest. "And what’s the catch?"

You plainly chuckle. "Like I’m going to spoil it for you."

"Because I probably won’t get to see it anyway," he retorts with a laugh, the irony not lost on him—after all, you won’t be around to finish it.

You sigh but eventually give in. "The girl tries to make her captor fall in love with her."

Minho holds back a laugh. He already knows it's going to be another bad movie. Lucky for you, he’ll be saving you from further embarrassment.

"Let me guess. You’re going to get naked again?" he asks, sneering.

Your deep, frustrated sigh is all the confirmation he needs. “So what if I am? It’s my body.”

He shrugs, eyes fixed on the road. “Sure, but haven’t you done it enough already? That’s like what… your fifth movie in a row?”

Your pencil scratches violently across the page. “Are you bored of my tits now?”

Minho stays silent, gripping the wheel tighter. Your next comment stings more than you know.

“Remember when you used to be obsessed with them? Oh, wait—when was the last time you even touched me?” You sneer, adding a little “tch” at the end of your sentence that makes his blood boil.

He once again pictures slamming on the brakes, imagining your pencil impaled your eye. But no. He breathes deeply and reminds himself that you’ll be gone soon enough.

“I need to pee,” you grumble, shifting in your seat.

“We’re almost there. Hold it,” he snaps, not caring about your discomfort.

“I'll pee in the car then,” you retort, already unbuttoning your jeans.

With an exasperated sigh, Minho jerks the car into a sudden U-turn, sending your head against the window. He pulls into a gas station, parking roughly by the entrance.

“Go ahead. Do your business.”

You storm out of the car, slamming the door behind you as you head inside. After a few minutes, Minho watches as you return from the restroom, only to stop and flirt with the cashier.

He taps the steering wheel impatiently, his eyes narrowing as he sees you and the cashier sharing a laugh. His patience runs thin, and before long, he exits the car, marching over to you.

"Let’s go," he growls, grabbing your hand.

You pull away, smirking. "Let him guess first."

"Guess what?"

The cashier laughs, clearly amused. "Trying to guess which movie I’ve seen her in," he explains.

You lean against the counter, offering the man a flirty smile. "I’ll give you a hint. It has something to do with the color blue."

Minho’s eyes darken, his anger bubbling beneath the surface, he knows exactly that you’re doing this just to annoy him.

The man’s face lights up as he gets the answer, "Blue Daisy!"

You clap softly and smile brightly, "That’s right! What did you think of my tits in that movie?"

The cashier falters, his smile faltering as he glances nervously at Minho. "Pardon?"

"Oh, come on. There's a scene where I take off my bathrobe," you tease, toying with the lighters on the counter.

"They’re... nice," the man replies and then looks away, clearly uncomfortable.

You sigh dramatically, glancing at Minho as you say, "Apparently, my husband doesn’t think so."

The cashier looks at Minho in disbelief. "You’re married?"

"Unfortunately, yes," you answer with a fake, sad smile.

Minho takes a deep breath, trying to keep his composure, he grabs you hand tighter and asks, "Are you done?"

You yank your hand away and brush past him, your shoulder grazing his as you head back to the car.

Just a few more hours, he reminds himself. Soon, it’ll all be over.

-

Now that you've known the who, the what and the when. The next question is where?

The cabin looms in the distance, nestled deep within the woods by the lake. As he gets out the car, Minho takes in the familiar sight—the water reflecting the afternoon sun, the towering trees surrounding the cabin, the peace and quiet. It’s secluded, far from the rest of the world.

You get out of the car and head straight for the trunk to collect your things.

"I’ll take the bags inside," Minho says, rushing over before you can lift the trunk lid, "Just grab the groceries from the backseat "

Shrugging, you open the back door and gather the bags of groceries, holding them against your chest. You don’t ask questions, not when you’ve been here so many times before. You punch in the code to retrieve the key from the safety box, opening the cabin door with ease.

Minho stands by the car for a moment, breathing in the last of the summer air before the season shifts. He pauses, scanning the quiet surroundings, appreciating how isolated it all feels.

No neighbors. No signal. Just the lake, the trees, and the silence.

It’s perfect.

-

Minho drags all of your things and his inside, then drops them in the living room. He’s greeted by the musty air of a cabin that hasn’t been lived in for over a month, and the dusty framed photos on top of the fireplace—his family, his parents, a childhood snapshot, and one of the two of you spending a week here for an extra honeymoon.

He remembers taking the picture with his phone, the two of you looking so happy lying in the hammock together, your heads resting against each other. Your hair was still its natural color back then, before you bleached it for the movie role.

What he doesn’t remember is how in love he was—why he decided to marry you. His eyes, once filled with affection, now only see hatred and resentment, two black orbs filled with void.

The sound of rustling plastic snaps him out of his thoughts, and his gaze shifts to your figure in the kitchen, tossing expired food into a trash bag.

Before you can notice, Minho silently takes the small duffel bag into the basement, placing it next to the cupboard where the hunting rifles are stored.

When he returns, you’re still in the kitchen, unpacking groceries. He gathers the remaining bags to take upstairs, but as his foot lands on the first step, you call for him.

“Are you going to cook dinner?” you ask, filling a pitcher with tap water.

“Yes. I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he replies without looking.

Minho drops everything in the corner of the bedroom, noticing your makeup bag already by the sink in the bathroom. He changes his clothes quickly before heading back downstairs to cook, just like he promised. He starts preparing dinner, laying out the ingredients on the counter. While seasoning the tenderloins with salt and pepper, he watches you chop vegetables at the other end.

“You have to cut them thinner,” he says.

“What difference does it make?” you mutter, ignoring him.

Minho carefully lays the tenderloins on the hot pan, the meat sizzling as it hits the metal. “Watch the meat,” he says, swapping tasks with you and taking over the vegetable chopping.

He notices you eye roll as you reluctantly take his place by the stove. After a while, you attempt to flip the steaks and he quickly stops you.

“It’s not ready yet!” he snaps.

You immediately throw your hands up in defeat while still holding the wooden spatula in one, “You know what? I’ll just wait at the table, drinking wine,” you say, this time making no effort to hide your eye roll.

Since the sun hasn’t fully set yet, you suggest dining on the back patio, where the sunset offers its best view, even though the air is getting cooler.

It’s always been like this—sitting far apart, the space between you thick with dead air. You both eat in silence, sipping your wine.

Minho remembers that tonight possibly will be your last so he decides to start a conversation.

“How’s the script going?” he asks, wiping the sauce off his plate with the last piece of meat.

“Going well,” you reply curtly, licking your lips.

Minho leans back in his chair. “Who’s that guy… the one helping with your acting?”

You pull your jacket tighter against the cool wind. “Ryan?”

“Yeah, him,” Minho says, taking a sip of his wine. “You’re not working with him for your next role?”

“He’s busy with other things,” you answer, tucking your hair behind your ear.

Minho stabs a piece of carrot with his fork. “So, you’re not the only one he’s… working with?”

You stop eating abruptly and look at him, “Pardon?”

“He’s working with other actors too, right?”

“Well, yeah, it’s his job,” you reply, more casually this time.

As the last rays of sunlight hit you, casting a golden glow like a halo, Minho feels a pang of something. Sadness, maybe. He’s certain it’ll be the last time he sees you on this light so he takes it all in.

Soon, you catch him staring. “What are you looking at?”

“You,” he simply answers with a cryptic smile.

Your eyes meet for a moment and Minho searches for something in your gaze, some lingering emotion, but the gaze doesn't last long enough for him to know for sure as you look away.

After dinner, you both sit in the living room, playing a quiet game of chess. The ticking of the old clock fills the silence as Minho watches you fall into the trap he’s set. It’s ironically fitting, like you’re handing him your life, allowing him to end it with a simple move of the black knight.

“I won,” he says, a faint smile of triumph on his lips.

You don’t respond but instead, draining your wine in one gulp. “I’m tired,” you sigh.

As Minho packs away the chess pieces, he throws a smug comment your way. “You always get tired when you lose.”

You ignore him, heading to the kitchen to leave your glass in the sink and head upstairs.

Once you're out of sight, Minho makes another trip to the basement, unlocking the cupboard with the hidden key. Inside, he finds the hunting rifle. It’s been a while, but he still remembers how to use it.

Loading two shells into the chamber, he clicks it shut and for a second, he feels tempted to fire a shot just for the thrill, but that would ruin the surprise so he tucks the rifle back into the cupboard and turns off the lights as he heads upstairs.

When he gets to the bedroom, the bed is empty. He hears the water running—you're probably halfway through your skincare routine. He changes into sleepwear and lies down, charging his phone even though the reception is useless here.

The rustling of leaves outside is the only sound he's hearing until Minho begins to drift off. Just then, he feels a kiss on his cheek.

His eyes flutter open, and he finds you leaning over him, your lips brushing against his. The kiss is long and lingering, your hand gently cradling his face.

When you pull back, you smile softly. “Goodnight, honey.”

For a moment, Minho says nothing, watching as you turn and lie down, your back to him. A strange feeling twists in his chest—a hesitation he hasn’t felt in a long time. The kiss... something about it felt different.

He shifts slightly, his brow furrowing as suspicion creeps in. Was it genuine, or was it part of your own plan? For a second, he wavers, doubt gnawing at the edges of his resolve. Could you really be so oblivious to what’s coming? Or are you hiding something, just like him? He clenches his jaw, forcing the thought away.

It’s too late for second-guessing now. Still, as he stares at your back, he can’t shake the lingering sense that maybe, just maybe, you're not as unsuspecting as you seem.

-

The next day, the cabin is flooded with golden rays as the sun rises high in the sky. Minho stands by the kitchen window, washing the breakfast dishes, his eyes following you as you sway gently in the hammock, engrossed in your script.

He finishes quickly and heads to the back door, pausing in the doorway as he calls your name.

You turn your head slightly. “What?”

“I’m going for a walk around the lake. You coming?” he asks, though he already knows the answer. It’s just for show, a part of the performance, to keep suspicion at bay.

“No, thank you,” you reply, turning your attention back to the script.

Perfect. It’s exactly the answer he wanted. Everything is going according to plan.

As he steps outside, Minho's eyes dart back toward the hammock, checking to see if you’re watching. From a distance, he can still see the top of your head peeking over the edge, unmoving. Satisfied, he walks toward the shed, retrieving a small bag before starting his trek around the lake.

As he jogs along the edge of the water, he scans the ground for the right kind of rock—one heavy enough for what he needs. He finds it near the water’s edge, half-covered in moss. It’s heavier than he expected, and he has to flip it over with his foot before using both hands to hoist it into the bag.

His eyes drift back to the cabin, paranoid that you might somehow be following him. But no, you’re still in the hammock, or at least it seems that way.

He drags the bag back to the shed and hides it behind a stack of old tires. Everything is in place. Just one more thing to prepare—but he realizes he forgot his car keys.

The whole morning slips by as he meticulously works on his plan and by the time he returns to the house, the hammock is empty, swaying lightly in the breeze. Your script book is left behind, pages fluttering in the wind.

Minho’s chest tightens with unease. He steps cautiously toward the front door, his senses heightened. “Honey?” he calls out, but there’s no reply.

He steps inside, the air thick with tension. “Honey?” he repeats, louder this time, his voice echoing in the silence.

In the kitchen, he spots you standing behind the island, your back to him.

“Honey?” he says again, his tone more uncertain now.

You turn slowly, and that’s when he sees it—the gleam of a knife in your hand. The blade catches the light, sending a sharp reflection into his eyes.

A jolt of panic surges through him. His plan was flawless. But somehow, he hadn’t accounted for this—the possibility that you knew. And if you knew, he was already doomed.

He swallows hard, trying to think of something to say. “What are you doing?”

Without a word, you turn back to the counter, your hands moving in a way he can’t fully see. He takes a cautious step back, bracing himself for a sudden attack.

But instead, you turn around holding a head of lettuce. “I’m making sandwiches for lunch,” you say innocently, setting the vegetable down on the chopping board with a loud thud.

Relief floods through him, and he lets out a low breath, clearing his throat to mask his moment of weakness. “Sounds good,” he comments, though his voice lacks conviction.

You calmly slice the lettuce, your knife moving with unsettling precision. “Were you looking for me?”

The question jolts him, reminding him of his real purpose. “Uh… yeah, I was looking for my car keys,” he says quickly, scrambling for an excuse. “I left my charger in the glove box.”

You glance up from the chopping board, still holding the knife in one hand. “You can use mine. It’s upstairs by the bedside table.”

There’s something in your smile—a strange, almost sinister edge that makes his skin crawl. Like you know something he doesn’t.

“No, I’ll use mine. It’s more convenient,” he says, forcing a polite smile, though inside, every instinct tells him to leave. Now.

You hold his gaze for a moment too long before turning to the fridge. “It’s on the hook next to the boat keys,” you reply, slicing open a pack of bacon with a swift flick of the knife.

“Thanks,” he mutters, backing away.

He doesn’t waste another second. Grabbing the car keys, he heads for the door, but then you call his name, stopping him in his tracks. He turns, his heart thudding in his chest. You stand in the middle of the room, a strange smile playing on your lips.

“Yeah?” he asks, his voice tight.

“Lunch will be ready soon,” you say, still smiling that unsettling smile.

Minho nods, trying to shake off the eerie feeling that lingers. He hasn’t seen you smile this much in a long time, and it’s not even noon yet. It’s unnerving, like you’re doing it to make him feel guilty. Like you’re daring him to go through with his plan.

-

Minho decides to proceed with caution.

The little smile you gave him earlier is enough to put him on edge, so he takes a seat on the stool, eyes fixed on you as you meticulously prepare his sandwich. You slice it in half and place it in front of him. He doesn’t hesitate to eat it, knowing that he hasn’t taken his eyes off the process. This way, he’s sure you haven’t tampered with his lunch.

"Good?" you ask, watching him closely.

He chews, waiting for any signs of something off in his body, but nothing happens.

"It’s good," he replies, nodding.

You smile, then sip your orange juice, making a little gasp of satisfaction. "Orange juice?" you offer, holding up the pitcher.

"Sure," he says.

You get a clean glass from the cabinet, which checks off another one of his worries. He saw you drink from the same juice, and the glass is fresh. No reason to suspect anything, right? Maybe you’re still unaware, and things are still going according to his plan.

"You’re not eating?" he asks, testing the waters.

You finish your glass and shake your head. "I’m still full from the smoothie I had earlier."

You walk over, placing a hand on his shoulder, then gliding it to the back of his neck, massaging gently. "I’m going to take a long bath," you say, smiling down at him.

"Okay," he mutters, looking up.

You lean down, brushing your lips against his in a brief kiss. "Enjoy your lunch."

This is the perfect opportunity.

Minho only manages to finish half of the sandwich before draining his glass of orange juice, feeling a bit parched from all the work he’s been doing since the morning. He heads down to the basement, ripping open a bag full of tools. He picks the hammer, gripping it tightly in his right hand.

As he makes his way upstairs, he marvels at how smoothly everything is going. If he manages to bash your head in the bathroom, he doesn't need to worry about the mess. The only challenge is getting your body downstairs, but that’s a problem for after.

Right now, all he has to do is get in there and deliver the fatal blow.

But as he climbs the final stairs, his vision blurs, and his limbs grow heavy. He tries to shake it off, widening his eyes and slapping his cheek to wake himself up. It must be the adrenaline, right? That’s why he feels so lightheaded.

He reaches the bathroom, hearing the water running and your soft humming. The door is left ajar, steam wafting out. Minho peeks in and sees you sitting on the edge of the tub, still in your bathrobe, one side slipping off your shoulder.

Slowly, he pushes the door open just enough to slip inside. The sink is cluttered with your things—makeup, a toothbrush, and what he assumes is some spilled powder from your makeup routine.

Confident you can’t see him through the fogged mirror, he raises the hammer above his head, ready to strike. Suddenly, his legs give out, and he stumbles backward, the hammer slipping from his grasp, then clatters to the floor.

You whip your head around, startled, and see him crumpling against the bathroom wall. Squatting down in front of him, you say softly, "Honey?"

Minho fights to open his eyes, but his body is shutting down against his will. "I’m—I…" he stammers.

You lean in, your forehead resting gently against his as you sigh. "Shh… it’s okay," you murmur, stroking his hair.

With one hand cupping his face, you look into his eyes, a sinister glint now replacing the warmth. "Just go to sleep," you say softly, your voice almost soothing.

Minho’s vision starts to fade, but he sees it in your eyes. You did this. "You—"

Before he can finish, everything goes black.

-

The sound of a knife scraping against the surface of a plate jolts Minho awake in the worst possible way.

Disoriented, he squints his eyes and realizes he's downstairs, seated at the dining table. You're sitting across from him, chewing on a piece of meat with a soft groan.

"I think I flipped it too early again," you mumble, dabbing your mouth with a napkin.

You look up from your food and gasp when you notice he's awake, "Honey!"

Grabbing the bottle of wine, you pour it into his glass, the intoxicating scent of it filling the room. "I'm sorry I started dinner without you."

Minho tries to move his hands but can't. He glances down to find them tied to the chair.

"Ah! Let me help you with that," you say, standing beside him as you unfold a napkin and spread it over his lap. You kiss him on the cheek, wiping away the lipstick mark with your thumb after.

"How was your nap?" You ask once you're settled back to your seat.

Minho glares, his nostrils flaring with the rage boiling inside him. He curses himself for letting his guard down, for believing things were going his way when they never did. Shaking the fog from his head, he focuses on you.

"Sleeping pills, huh?" His voice drips with disdain, realizing too late that the white powder he'd seen earlier wasn’t makeup—it was the remnants of crushed sleeping pills.

You don't answer, just sip your wine with a satisfied smile.

Minho scoffs, tossing his head back. "How clever!"

Refilling your glass, you raise an eyebrow. "What?"

"It wasn't the sandwich, not the juice..." He lets out a bitter laugh. "It was the glass."

You clink your wine glass against his with a smirk. "Almost got caught there, didn’t I?"

"So, you know," he mutters.

You set your glass down and rest your hands on the table, an innocent grin spreading across your face. "Know what?"

Minho’s dark eyes remain fixed on you, simmering with fury.

"I'll let you have your dinner later," you say, pushing his untouched plate to the side, clearing the center of the table.

You retrieve something from the chair beside you—a hammer. The same hammer he’d planned to use on you. You place it on the table between you both.

"Are you asking if I knew you were going to use this to smash my head in?"

Minho’s gaze flickers between the hammer and you.

You chuckle mockingly, hand pressed against your chest. "Thank God the pills kicked in just in time!"

Though not surprised, Minho wonders if you’ve uncovered his entire plan. As if reading his mind, you bend down and drag a duffel bag onto the table with a loud thud.

"Or are you asking if I knew about this?" you ask, emptying the contents—rope, duct tape, a blade, a wrench, a saw, and an axe—spreading them across the table like hardware on display.

Sitting back down, you examine the tools with a smile. "You’re thorough, I’ll give you that."

"You know I never do things half-heartedly," he replies, voice laced with sarcasm.

Your laughter echoes around the room. "And look what I found," you say, lifting his hunting rifle, pointing it directly at him with your finger hovers dangerously close to the trigger. "It’s loaded."

Minho’s calm exterior falters. He knows all too well that he loaded that rifle himself. How fitting it would be for him to die by his own hand.

"BANG!" You shout, trying to startle him, but he doesn't flinch.

Your laughter fades as you lower the rifle, setting it aside. You cross your arms, eyes studying him intently and he can sense the curiosity swirling in your mind.

"Go ahead," he taunts, leaning forward as much as he can. "Ask your question."

You trace the rim of your wine glass with your finger. "So, that's the plan? To kill me?"

He tilts his head, eyes burning with intensity. "Yes."

"Let's say you manage to knock me out with the hammer..." You cut a piece of meat and continue eating. "What happens next?"

Minho stays silent, watching as you play this little guessing game.

You raise a hand before he can speak. "Wait, wait, wait, let me guess."

You chew faster, sipping your wine between thoughts and begin guessing his whole plan. "You wouldn’t kill me with the hammer—too messy. Too much work. And definitely not upstairs. It would be a hassle dragging my body down."

You glance at the ropes on the table and continue, "You’d tie me up once I was unconscious. Then, once secured, you’d get to work."

Your hand hovers over the tools spread on the table. "As for the weapon of choice..." You pick up the blade, testing its sharp edge with a playful gasp. "Ouch. This would’ve made it fun for you."

Minho’s lips twitch into a small, sinister smile.

"But no," you continue, setting the blade down and then you point at the rifle. "You’d use this. Quick. Easy."

"Exactly," he admits, slightly impressed by how well you know him.

Your eyes drift toward the saw next as you continue talking. "And the saws... well, those would be for afterward. To dismember me, right? You’d chop me into little pieces and dump me in the lake."

Minho raises an eyebrow, impressed. You got most of it right. The how.

"Did I guess correctly?" you ask, tilting your head.

He nods slowly in approval. "I’d applaud, but..." he glances at his tied hands.

You clink your glass with his. "See? I’ve learned a lot in our marriage."

As you sip your wine, he asks the one question still lingering in the space between. "Aren’t you going to ask why?"

You pause mid-sip, placing your glass down before pulling a handgun from your bag.

Minho’s breath catches in his throat. You want him dead just as much as he wants you gone.

"Because we hate each other enough to kill," you say, placing the gun next to your plate. But you rummage in your bag again and pull out a letter—divorce papers. Sliding them toward him, you add, "Or, we could avoid the drama. Sign this, and I’m gone. Forever."

Without hesitation, Minho shakes his head. Strongly refuses to do it any other way.

"Why not?" you ask, brows furrowed.

"I need to kill you," he says, voice unwavering.

You burst out laughing. "You hold that many grudges, huh?"

He doesn’t answer. His silence speaks volumes.

Sighing, you try to reason again. "I’ll disappear. You won’t even know I exist."

Minho leans forward, his voice a low growl. "I have to be the one to do it."

You shiver despite yourself. His intensity is chilling, but you remind yourself that he’s tied up, unable to do anything.

"You're a doctor, Minho. You know you're supposed to save life not—"

"I have to kill you," he cuts you off, nostrils flaring, eyes burning with determination.

Realizing there's no convincing him, you slide the gun back into your bag and put it on your lap. "I don't care if you sign the papers or not."

You take your wedding ring off and put it on top of the papers, making a bold statement. You stand, walking to his chair and then leaning close to plant a soft kiss on his cheek.

"Good luck with everything," you whisper, knowing those words will provoke him further.

As you head for the door, bag slung over your shoulder, he calls after you. His voice echoing against the eerie silence.

"I’ll find you... and I’ll kill you," he screams as he fights his way out of the bind. "Do you fucking hear me?"

As you set one foot out of the door, Minho screams one last time, "IF I CAN’T HAVE YOU, NO ONE CAN!"

You break into a run toward the car and with your heart pounding, you shove the key into the ignition and twist it, the car sputtering to life. Relief floods your body for a moment as the engine hums beneath you, and you slam your foot on the gas.

The car lurches forward, gravel crunching under the tires as you speed away from the cabin. But the relief is short-lived.

After just a few yards, the engine sputters and dies. Panic grips you as the car slows to a stop, and your hands tremble as you frantically try to restart it. You twist the key over and over, forcing the ignition, but the engine won’t turn over.

“Come on… come on!” you mutter desperately, glancing into the rearview mirror, afraid that Minho somehow break away and chase after you.

You continue to restart the car engine but it still won't turn on, you slam your hands on the steering wheel out of frustration and reorganize your breath to let your brain able to work.

With your brain is well oxygenated, you start checking the car and that's when you see the gas gauge and the needle points to the E. Fuck! Minho must have drained the tank empty.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" You continuously scream in dread now but the real dread is glancing through rearview mirror and see the cabin door is open.

That’s when you see him.

Minho is storming out of the cabin, rifle in hand, his face a mask of cold determination. Your blood turns to ice. He’s coming for you, and you have no time.

"Shit!" you curse under your breath, your breath quickening. Abandoning the car, you fling the door open and bolt into the woods, legs trembling as you stumble over roots and uneven ground.

The sound of the rifle cracks through the air. You gasp, ducking as the bullet strikes a tree near you, splintering bark and sending shrapnel flying. Your heart nearly stops.

You pick up the pace, adrenaline coursing through your veins, but the forest floor is unforgiving. Your foot catches on something—a root, a rock, you don't know—and you crash to the ground with a hard thud, pain shooting through your body.

Before you can scramble back to your feet, Minho is already there. His heavy footsteps pound against the earth as he catches up, his presence looming over you. You try to crawl away, your muscles screaming, but his hands grab you from behind, yanking you around with brutal force.

“Got you,” he growls, his voice cold and menacing.

You barely have time to scream before his hands are wrapped around your neck, squeezing with a vicious intent. Your hands fly to his wrists, clawing and yanking at them, but he's too strong.

"Don’t worry, honey. I'm not going to kill you just yet."

He tightens his grip, cutting off your air supply. Panic floods your body as your vision begins to blur, your strength draining away with each passing second.

"I'm just going to stop the blood flow to the brain through constriction of the carotid arteries and..."

You kick, aimlessly hitting him, your movements growing weaker as the world around you starts to fade.

Minho’s face is the last thing you see before the darkness consumes you entirely.

-

A gasp escapes your lips as you regain consciousness, immediately followed by a coughing fit.

Disoriented and lightheaded, you try to sit up, only to realize your hands and feet are bound to the bed. The ropes burn against your skin as you thrash in place, but you’re held fast. Helplessly stuck, you let out a loud scream, frustration boiling over as your cries for help go unanswered.

"Is that the best you can do?"

Your head snaps to the side, eyes wide, to see Minho leering at you from across the room.

He’s rummaging through a duffel bag, calm as ever, his dark eyes glinting with malice. You try to speak, but your throat is dry, and only a rough cough escapes your lips.

Minho pulls something from his bag—a small, rectangular box. It looks like a jewelry box, but the careful way he places it beside your body tells you it contains something far from precious.

He stands at the foot of the bed, staring down at you with a mocking grin. "Comfortable?"

Your fury flares. You swallow hard, forcing your voice to work. "You should have told me you were into bondage," you sneer, eyes narrowing.

His laugh is deep, amused by your defiance. Without warning, he climbs onto the bed and sits between your open legs, his gaze locked with yours, making it impossible to escape his predatory stare. "Let’s make you even more comfortable," he says, a sinister smile creeping across his face.

With deliberate slowness, he reaches into the back pocket of his jeans and pulls out a pair of scissors. He places them on the bed next to the mysterious box, letting you get a good look, as if daring you to figure out his next move.

A slow sigh escapes his lips as his hand reaches for your face, fingers slipping into your hair. For a moment, you think he’s going to cut it, but instead, he brushes your damp hair to the side and he also wipes the sweat from your neck with the back of his hand.

"It’s hot, yeah?" he murmurs.

"Isn’t that why you married me? Because I’m hot," you bite back, glaring at him with all the hatred you can muster.

Minho laughs again, this time brushing more strands of hair away from your sweaty forehead. "A part of it, yeah," he shamelessly admits.

"What about the rest of it?" you ask, surprising yourself with your curiosity. You’ve never asked him that before; romance was never a part of your relationship.

Nothing about your marriage was romantic, not even from the start. One day, he asked you to marry him, and you said yes. No questions, no love stories. Just a quiet agreement. But over time, things soured, leading to this moment of bitter hostility.

"Do you really want to know?" Minho asks, his face hovering dangerously close to yours, his hand resting beside your head on the mattress.

"You’re going to kill me anyway, so why not?" you reply, a daring smile playing on your lips.

For a long moment, he simply stares at you, his knuckle lightly tracing the curve of your face. His eyes darken, as if he’s about to reveal something, but then he pulls away abruptly.

"You always make me forget what I’m about to do," he says, picking up the scissors again.

Your heart rate slows as he holds the scissors, doing nothing but staring at them, lost in thought. His eyes flicker to you, then to your chest, where he presses the flat edge of the scissors. You can feel the cold metal through your clothes, making the weight of the moment unbearable.

You believe his final weapon of choice is inside the box so the sight of the scissors doesn’t scare you. You suspect he’s just toying with you, testing your fear.

Suddenly, Minho drags the scissors up your chest until they reach the base of your throat. The metal’s coldness makes you instinctively gulp, your breath hitching in your throat. But you refuse to break. Your gaze meets his, unwavering, even though you know exactly what he intends to do.

Unexpectedly, Minho laughs again, pulling the scissors away from your throat. "This is why I married you," he says, placing a hand on your chest, feeling the steady beat of your heart.

"You’re so calm," he muses, dragging the scissors lower, stopping at your thigh. He slides the hem of your dress between the blades. "Way too calm."

In one swift motion, he cuts through the fabric of your dress, the blades slicing up to your chest in one clean stroke. You stop breathing for a second, the fear catching up to you, but you don’t let it show.

"And for a while, I was grateful to have you as a wife," he says coldly.

He moves the scissors to the side, cutting through the sleeves of your dress, leaving you in nothing but your damp underwear. You can’t tell if the sweat is from the stifling heat or the tension building inside you.

"But nothing good lasts, right?" he says, tossing the scissors and the torn dress to the floor.

Your heart skips a beat as his fingers ghost over your bare stomach, barely touching, but sending a shiver through your body.

"I’ll give you a chance to admit it yourself," he whispers, squeezing your hip.

You know exactly what he’s talking about, but you refuse to give in. You won’t hand him that satisfaction. "I have nothing to say to you."

Minho expected that response. He’s always loved your rebellious streak. With a shrug, he turns to the mysterious box beside you. He picks it up, opens it, and without showing you the contents, he says, "Maybe this will help carve the truth out of you."

Your heart races with anticipation, both curious and terrified. His eyes sparkle as he pulls the object from the box like a prized possession.

It’s a scalpel.

Not just any scalpel—a tool Minho is all too familiar with. He’s been using it for years in his line of work as a doctor, his hand accustomed to it, it's technically a part of his hand.

You let out a dark, low laugh, impressed by his choice of weapon. Not letting the fear take over you and give him the satisfaction.

"You think this is funny?" He asks, his voice low and dangerous, the scalpel gleaming in the dim light. His eyes narrow as he watches you closely, waiting for a reaction.

You suppress another laugh, trying to keep your voice steady despite the fear coursing through you. "I guess I always knew you'd find a way to cut me out of your life, but this is a little dramatic, don't you think?" You flash a bitter smile, masking the terror rising in your throat.

Minho’s lips curl into a slow, sinister smile. "Oh, this isn’t about cutting you out. Not yet, at least." He leans in closer, his breath hot against your skin as the scalpel hovers near your collarbone. The cold metal grazes your skin, a teasing pressure that sends a shiver down your spine.

You pull at the ropes again, frustration and helplessness bubbling to the surface. Your skin stings from the friction, but you know it’s useless. He tied the knots too well. Still, you refuse to show fear.

"You really think this will make me tell you what you want to hear?" Your voice is hoarse, but there’s defiance in your tone.

Minho chuckles darkly, sliding the scalpel down the center of your chest, just grazing your skin enough to leave a faint trail without cutting. His eyes follow the path of the blade with eerie calmness.

"You’re tougher than I expected. I like that." His gaze locks onto yours again, and there’s a chilling coldness in his eyes that makes your blood run cold. "But everyone has their breaking point."

He drags the scalpel lower, letting it dance across your stomach, teasing the edge of your hip. You can’t help the sharp intake of breath as the blade comes dangerously close to cutting through your skin. Every muscle in your body tenses, waiting for the inevitable pain.

"You’re hiding something," he says, his voice a near-whisper now, filled with a quiet intensity. "You’ve always been so calm, so composed. It made me wonder, what are you hiding beneath that exterior? What is it you think I don’t know?"

He pauses, his fingers tracing the path of the scalpel with a feather-light touch, as if he’s savoring this moment. His eyes glitter with amusement as he watches your face, waiting for the fear to slip through your mask.

"You don’t scare me," you say, though the waver in your voice betrays you.

Minho’s grin widens, and he brings the scalpel up to your throat, just pressing the flat of the blade against your skin, reminding you of how sharp it is. "Maybe not yet," he replies. "But that will change."

His hand moves slowly, deliberately, the scalpel brushing your skin as he leans closer, his breath hot against your ear. "I’m going to carve out every lie you’ve ever told me, every secret you’ve hidden."

The scalpel flicks across your skin, leaving a shallow scratch, just enough to sting. "Let’s start with why you tried to run," he says, his voice a dangerous whisper.

The blade trails down your chest again, teasing but not yet cutting deep enough to cause real pain. "You’ve been planning this, haven’t you? Just waiting for the right moment to escape."

Your mind races, trying to stay ahead of him, but his control over the situation is suffocating. "What makes you think I’ve been planning anything?" you manage to ask, though the tremble in your voice betrays the fear creeping into your chest.

Minho smirks, enjoying the game. "Because I know you," he murmurs. "I’ve watched you. You think I didn’t notice the way you’ve been distancing yourself? The way you look at me like you’re just waiting for me to make a mistake."

He presses the scalpel a little harder against your skin, and you wince. "I’m not going to let you slip away so easily," he says, his voice dripping with menace. "So why don’t you save us both some time and tell me what you’ve been hiding?"

You grit your teeth, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a confession. "I have nothing to hide from you," you say, though every instinct in your body is screaming that he’s already too close to the truth.

Minho’s expression darkens. He moves the scalpel down again, this time slicing through the thin fabric of your underwear. You flinch as the cold air hits your bare skin, but you refuse to give him the reaction he’s looking for.

"Last chance," he warns, the scalpel glinting in the dim light. "Why Ryan?"

So this is the why.

Your heart stutters, your body stiffening at the mention of the name. Of course, he knows. He’s always known. But now, it’s out in the open, and there's nowhere to hide. You swallow hard, forcing yourself to stay composed even as the truth hangs dangerously between you.

Minho shifts, bringing the scalpel up to your throat again, applying just enough pressure for you to feel it, the sharp edge threatening to break skin.

"You really thought I wouldn’t find out, didn’t you?" His tone is calm, but the anger simmering beneath the surface is palpable. "You thought you could sneak around, play your little games with him, and I’d be none the wiser."

Your throat tightens, and you struggle to breathe through the panic rising in your chest.

He presses the blade down, just enough to make your pulse quicken. "Why him?" Minho asks again, his voice quieter, almost a whisper now. "Why Ryan?"

"I—" you start, but your voice cracks, your throat dry. You don’t even know what to say, how to explain something that’s so tangled in layers of resentment, anger, and escape. Instead, you try to hold on to the composure you’ve managed to keep for this long. "It wasn’t—"

Minho cuts you off with a bitter laugh, pulling the scalpel back but keeping it poised, ready. "Don’t bother lying," he says, his eyes dark with fury. "I already know everything. I just want to hear it from you."

He sits back slightly, still straddling you, his eyes locked on yours with a kind of chilling intensity. The blade dances over your skin, teasing but not yet cutting.

"Why?" he asks again, softer this time. "What did you think Ryan could give you that I couldn’t?"

Your mind races, heart pounding. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction of your truth, but there’s no way out. His patience is wearing thin, and you can see it in the way his grip tightens on the scalpel, his jaw clenching as he waits for your answer.

"It wasn’t about him," you finally admit, your voice barely above a whisper. You don’t know if this will calm him or enrage him further, but it’s all you can offer. "It was never about him."

He tilts his head, watching you closely. "Then what was it about, huh?" His voice sharpens, cutting through the air like the blade in his hand.

You flinch at the venom in his words, but you force yourself to hold his gaze. "You don’t understand," you say quietly, tears prickling at the edges of your eyes despite your best efforts to stay strong.

Minho’s face hardens, and he slides the scalpel down your body, stopping just above your abdomen, his fingers tracing the line of your skin with a maddening slowness. "Then make me understand." His voice is dangerous, low and threatening.

His grip on your throat tightens, and the blade slides down to your chest again, this time pressing harder, enough to draw a thin line of blood. You gasp, the sting sharp and sudden.

Minho watches the blood bead up, a twisted smile playing on his lips. "I said make me understand why you betrayed me."

Before you can utter a word, the door to the cabin bursts open. Ryan stands in the doorway, his face a mix of shock and fury as he takes in the scene—the scalpel pressed dangerously close to your throat, Minho’s body straddling yours, and the faint line of blood on your chest.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Ryan’s voice echoes through the cabin, and in a blur, he charges at Minho.

Minho barely has time to react before Ryan slams into him, knocking him off of you. The scalpel clatters to the floor as Minho is thrown back, struggling to regain his balance. Ryan swings a hard punch, landing square on Minho’s jaw, sending him stumbling backward. You scramble up from the floor, gasping for air, as the two men break into a full-on fight.

Ryan manages another punch, harder this time, knocking Minho to the ground. Minho’s body slumps for a moment, and Ryan quickly grabs the scissors lying on the bed, cutting the ropes free from your hands and feet. He helps you get up and grabs your arm, pulling you toward the stairs.

“Come on,” he urges, his voice low and frantic. “We have to go—now.”

You follow him downstairs, still in shock, the adrenaline pumping through your veins as he grabs his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders.

“I came as fast as I could when I got your message,” he says, his eyes scanning your face, full of concern. “Are you okay? Did he—”

But before he can finish, there’s a sound behind you—a violent thud. You both turn just in time to see Minho launching himself at Ryan from the top of the stairs.

Minho slams into him with terrifying force, sending the two men crashing to the floor in a violent heap. They grapple, fists flying, legs kicking, as they roll across the floor, locked in a brutal fight for dominance.

Ryan struggles beneath Minho’s weight, his eyes locking on the rifle resting against the wall near the sofa. He looks at you, desperation in his gaze, and subtly gestures toward it.

"The gun," he pants between blows. "Shoot him. Now!"

Your heart pounds in your chest as you rush to grab the rifle. Your hands shake as you lift it, your finger sliding onto the trigger. The weight of the weapon feels surreal in your hands, the cold steel pressing against your skin as you aim it at Minho, who is now pinning Ryan to the ground. The two men are still wrestling, but you have a clear shot.

“Do it!” Ryan yells, gasping for breath as Minho’s hands tighten around his throat.

Tears blur your vision, your breath coming in ragged sobs as you hold the rifle steady. Minho’s eyes catch yours, wild and unrelenting, and in that split second, everything seems to freeze. Your finger starts to push down on the trigger, your mind spinning with the weight of the decision.

“Why?” you scream at Minho, your voice breaking with emotion. "Why did you ever doubt me? Why couldn’t you trust that I loved you?"

Minho’s gaze softens for a fraction of a second, his grip loosening ever so slightly on Ryan’s throat. “You call this love?” he spits back, his voice hoarse but filled with pain.

Your finger trembles, hovering on the trigger, and you’re on the verge of pulling it—when something inside you snaps. In one swift motion, you shift your aim, your heart thudding painfully in your chest.

The gun goes off.

The shot rings out, echoing through the cabin as the bullet rips through the air—and buries itself in Ryan’s skull, right between his eyes. His body goes limp instantly, his hands falling away from Minho as he collapses to the floor, lifeless.

You drop the rifle, your whole body trembling, tears streaming down your face. You can’t stop sobbing, can’t even catch your breath as you take a shaky step toward him and ask, “Is that enough to show how much I love you?”

-

The silence that follows is deafening.

Minho looks at you, his chest heaving, covered in Ryan’s blood, shock registering in his eyes. After a moment, he gets up from the floor, calm and composed, as if the violent act that just transpired hadn't fazed him at all. He walks over to you without a word, his footsteps barely audible in the heavy silence.

From the dining table, he picks up a napkin, its soft fabric starkly contrasting with the blood staining your trembling hands. Gently, he wipes the blood droplets away, his touch careful, almost delicate.

“I cheated on you because—” your voice breaks as the words leave your lips, trembling under the weight of your sobs. “Because I wanted to know if you still care.”

Minho doesn’t respond, but his silence speaks volumes. You watch as he moves across the room, grabbing a jacket from the coat rack. He replaces Ryan’s jacket—the one draped loosely over your shoulders—with his own. His movements are methodical, yet somehow tender, like he’s dressing you for something far more intimate than this horrific moment. You stand frozen, the tears streaming down your face, helpless in your grief and confusion.

“I thought you didn’t love me anymore,” you choke out, your voice barely above a whisper, the sobs making your chest heave.

Minho zips up the jacket, making sure it fits snugly around you, before pulling you close. For the first time in what feels like an eternity, his lips meet yours in a tender kiss, one that reminds you of the warmth you used to find in him. Even with his blood-streaked face, you can see that familiar, intense gaze—the warmth you had longed for finally returning to his eyes.

“I love you,” he murmurs, his hand cradling your face with a kind of reverence, “and if I can’t have you, no one can.”

His lips crash against yours again, this time harder, deeper, and with a hunger that ignites something dangerous inside you. His voice, dripping with possessiveness, makes your heart pound in a way that both terrifies and excites you.

“You’re mine,” he says, the words claiming you with an unyielding finality.

And it’s that very possessiveness that pulls you deeper into him. It’s why you married him in the first place—because Minho doesn’t just love; he consumes. His love is fierce, intense, teetering on the edge of madness, and you wouldn’t want it any other way. You crave it, need it, and right now, it feels like it’s the only thing grounding you in this twisted reality.

“I’m yours,” you whisper, nodding as if you’re sealing your fate with those words.

The two of you kiss again, and this time, it feels like everything is falling back into place, like the chaotic balance of your marriage has been restored. The blood, the violence, the madness—it all shifts back to where it belongs, the perfect equilibrium of your dark, twisted love.

For a moment, the chaos of what you’ve done slips away, and you both stand in eerie stillness, as if nothing happened.

However, the sight of the body lying lifeless on the floor snaps you back to reality.

Minho silently moves to pick up Ryan’s jacket, using it to cover the gaping wound on his head, though the blood has already soaked into the rug. Without a word, he starts dragging the body onto the rug, and you, numb and dazed, help him. Together, you roll the body into it, cocooning Ryan in the bloodstained fabric.

"Go get the body bag from the basement," Minho tells you, his voice cold and devoid of any emotion.

Your legs feel heavy as you make your way down to the basement, retrieving the thick, black bag. The two of you struggle to maneuver Ryan’s body into it, your hands slipping on the slick fabric as you zip it up.

The weight of what you’ve done sinks in deeper with each passing second, but you push it aside, focusing on the task at hand. Together, you drag the body outside into the dark night. The only sounds are the rhythmic scrape of the bag against the ground and the low rustle of wind in the trees.

Minho busies himself with the boat, the mechanical hum of the engine cutting through the stillness. You clamber onto the boat, watching him as he grabs the large rock he collected earlier—the weight that will ensure the body stays submerged beneath the water, lost to the lake’s depths.

Once everything is set, he starts the boat, and it moves silently over the water, cutting through the eerie calm of the night. You sit in the cold air, the distant shore shrinking as he drives far enough from land.

Finally, he stops, and you both work in grim silence to lift the heavy body bag over the edge. The splash echoes in the darkness as it hits the water, and for a brief moment, the sound lingers, unsettling and hollow.

You and Minho stay there, eyes locked on the spot where the bag submerged, waiting, watching. The bubbles rise to the surface, swirling for a few moments before fading away into the night. The water smooths out, becoming calm once more, its surface reflecting the endless stretch of the night sky above.

Nothing comes back up. Only silence, only stillness.

-

With the body gone, there’s no time to waste.

Minho doesn’t say a word as he moves toward Ryan’s car, his movements swift and calculated. You watch as he wipes the door handles, steering wheel, and gear shift clean of fingerprints before driving it to the edge of the river.

The car slowly inches forward, and as it begins to roll into the water, you stand at a distance, watching the lake swallow it whole, the final glint of metal disappearing beneath the surface. The water ripples for a moment before settling back into silence, leaving no trace of the vehicle behind.

You head back to the cabin to tackle your part. The living room feels eerily quiet, haunted by the chaos that took place just hours ago. You move quickly, gathering the objects that were stained with Ryan’s blood: the napkin, the rug, anything he touched.

With methodical precision, you scrub the floor clean, the sound of the rag scraping against the wood filling the room. You make sure to use bleach, wiping down every surface, making sure no bloodstains or lingering scent remains. The stinging smell of bleach replaces the coppery odor of blood, and you inhale deeply, feeling the chemical burn in your lungs.

When the room looks spotless, you gather the last of the evidence: your clothes, Minho’s bloodstained clothes, and the tools he brought. All of it goes into a large bag—anything that could tie either of you to what happened. Together, you make your way into the woods, where the night feels darker, heavier, as if nature itself is holding its breath.

Minho starts the fire, the flames flickering to life and casting a soft, orange glow over the trees. The bag is heavy as you both throw it onto the growing blaze, the crackling of burning fabric and wood filling the air. You watch as the fire consumes everything, turning it into ash and smoke. The smell of burning evidence—your clothes, Ryan’s blood, every trace of him—rises with the heat, drifting into the night sky.

Minho grabs your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. There’s a quiet intimacy in the way you stand there, side by side, watching as the fire devours the last remnants of the crime. The warmth of his hand grounds you as the flames burn higher, until all that’s left are glowing embers and ash, scattering into the wind.

There’s nothing left now. No evidence. No trace. Just the two of you and the darkened woods.

-

The sun is slowly rising on the horizon when you walk back to the cabin

The final task is washing away the evidence from your bodies. You and Minho share the shower, alternating turns under the warm water as it washes off the blood and dirt clinging to your skin. At times, you help each other scrub, his hands trailing over the places where bruises and cuts mar your flesh.

There’s a quiet intimacy in the way you tend to each other, rinsing away the aftermath of the night before.

Once you're out of the shower and standing in front of the mirror, you notice the injuries. There’s a bruise blooming around your neck from where Minho had choked you, a thin cut across your chest from his scalpel, rope bruns on both wrists and ankles, and scrapes on your knees from tripping in the woods. The marks are raw, reminders of the violence that had passed between you.

“Come, sit.” Minho’s voice cuts through your thoughts. You turn to see him sitting on the bed, first aid kit in hand, his eyes already fixed on your wounds.

You obey, sitting beside him as he opens the kit. His fingers graze your skin as he pulls the robe open, exposing the cut on your chest. The light touch sends a shiver down your spine.

Minho leans in, studying the wound with careful attention before smoothing ointment onto it. You wince as it stings, and he immediately blows cool air on it to soothe the burn.

He moves to your knees next, his hands gentle as he applies more ointment and covers the scrapes with band-aids. His gaze lingers longer on the bruise around your neck, his fingers softly pressing against the swollen skin.

“Does it hurt?” His voice is softer now, a hint of worry in his tone.

“Not really,” you lie, and then it's your turn to ask about the bruise blooming on his jaw from Ryan’s punch, "How about it?"

He catches your hand and kisses it. "I'm okay."

Satisfied with your answer, he puts the first aid kit aside. His hair is damp, tousled as he pushes it back, and when his eyes meet yours again, there’s something dangerous and tender in his gaze.

“Aren’t you going to kiss it better?” you ask with a sly smile, teasing him.

His lips curl into a smile, and before you know it, his hands are on your waist, pulling you onto his lap. You straddle him, feeling the warmth of his body through the thin fabric of your robe.

“Want me to kiss it better?” he murmurs, his voice low, his brown eyes fiery as they lock on yours.

“Yes,” you whisper, your hands resting on his shoulders, needing his touch.

Minho leans in, placing a slow, deliberate kiss on the bandaged cut on your chest. His lips linger, and you feel the heat of the kiss searing into your skin. He doesn’t stop there, parting the robe further to press fluttering kisses along your collarbone, down to your breasts.

His hands tighten around your waist, pulling you closer as he buries his face between your breasts. He’s kissing, licking, and sucking your skin, his tongue leaving a wet trail in its wake. He takes his time with you, his fingers joining in, rolling and rubbing your nipples between them until they harden under his touch.

You tug at his hair, watching him, entranced by the way his mouth worships your flesh. His lips part with a soft pop as he releases your nipple, leaving it wet with his saliva.

“I’m obsessed,” he mutters, his lips brushing against your sternum. “I’ll always be obsessed with your body.”

He doesn’t need to say it—you can feel it in every touch, every kiss. His admiration for your body is palpable, his gaze lingering on your skin as though he can’t get enough. Your heart races, your desire growing hotter with each second that passes.

“Want you, Minho,” you moan breathlessly, your hands tightening on his shoulders. “I want you so much.”

Minho needs no further encouragement. He lays you back on the same bed where he tortured you earlier, his body moving over yours with a desperate hunger.

When he enters you, the intensity of his thrusts takes your breath away. His eyes flicker between watching his cock slide in and out of you and studying your face, seeking your reactions with every movement.

He slows down suddenly, leaning down to kiss you deeply, pulling away only when you’re gasping for air. He presses his forehead against yours, the heat of his breath mingling with yours.

“Are you mine?” His voice is rough, commanding.

You nod quickly, barely able to speak.

His fingers graze your lips. “Words.”

“I am yours,” you say, your voice trembling with need.

A dark grin spreads across his face, and he kisses you again, more urgently this time. “That’s right. You’re mine.”

Minho resumes his thrusts, picking up the pace. One hand moves to wrap around your neck, squeezing slowly, cutting off just enough air to blur the line between pleasure and pain. His thrusts don’t falter as his grip tightens, his voice a dark whisper in your ear.

“You’re mine. All mine. Only mine.”

Your vision swims, the pressure on your windpipe mixing with the waves of pleasure crashing through your body. You look into his eyes, and what you see there—lust, love, madness—sends you over the edge.

Both of you reach your peak together, bodies trembling as the release washes over you in shuddering waves.

When it’s over, Minho collapses beside you, pulling you into his arms. He places a soft, lingering kiss on your lips that makes your heart stutter.

“I love you,” he murmurs against your skin. His hand rests over your chest, right where your heart beats wildly.

Then, his voice drops, a dark promise in his words. “I want to cut you open and climb inside, so we can become one—forever.”

Anyone else would think it was madness, but to you, it’s just Minho. It’s the way he loves you—raw, obsessive, and unrelenting. And you love him for it, for every twisted piece of him that’s unlike any man you’ve ever known.

“And I would die for you,” you whisper back, your heart swelling with the weight of it. “Kill for you. I love you.”

It has always been your wish to be loved to the point of madness and Minho made that come true for you.

-

You wake to sunlight spilling through the cracks in the curtains, the warmth coaxing you from the comfort of sleep. The bed feels impossibly soft, but the familiar ache in your muscles reminds you of everything that happened the night before. Slowly, you stretch, your body protesting as you roll onto your side, blinking into the brightness.

The cabin is silent, save for the soft rustling of leaves outside and the occasional chirp of birds. You glance at the clock on the bedside table—it’s already late morning. You sit up, pulling the robe tightly around your body as you swing your legs over the side of the bed.

Your eyes fall on the small bandages Minho placed on your wounds last night. They’re a stark contrast to the serene morning around you, a reminder of the intensity that’s always lurking beneath the surface. But that’s how it is with Minho—love and danger, pleasure and pain, always intertwined.

The smell of food drifts up from downstairs, making your stomach growl. Minho must be downstairs.

You pad softly down the stairs, your bare feet making no sound on the wooden floor. As you step into the kitchen, you find Minho at the stove, the light from the window framing him in a soft glow. He’s already dressed in a white shirt that accentuate his broad shoulders and there’s a calmness in the way he moves as he plates food.

He turns, a warm smile spreading across his face when he sees you.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” he says, his voice smooth and gentle, as if the events of last night were a distant memory.

“Morning,” you reply, still groggy as you walk toward him.

You wrap your arms around his waist, leaning your head against his chest, breathing him in. His arms immediately encircle you, pulling you close as his lips press a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“You slept in,” he teases, one hand coming up to brush your hair away from your face.

“I needed it,” you murmur, tilting your head up to look at him.

His gaze is tender, and there’s something disarming about the way he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters in the world. He leans down, his lips brushing against yours in a soft kiss, slow and sweet.

The world outside feels far away, and for a moment, it’s just the two of you—wrapped in each other, the chaos of your love quiet for once.

Minho pulls back, his thumb lightly tracing your lower lip. “I made lunch. Thought you’d be hungry.”

You smile, your heart swelling with affection. “I'm famished.”

He cups your face, kissing you again, this time deeper, more lingering. You melt into him, your hands finding their way into his hair, tugging gently as his lips claim yours. It’s moments like this that make you feel utterly consumed by him.

When you finally break apart, both of you slightly breathless, Minho rests his forehead against yours. His hands slide down to your waist, holding you close.

“How about we go for a ride on the boat today?” he suggests, his voice low. “It’s a beautiful day.”

You look up at him, your mind still foggy from the kiss. “A boat ride?”

He nods, his lips brushing against the corner of your mouth. “Yeah. The lake’s calm, the sun’s out. We could use some fresh air.”

The thought of spending the day out on the water with Minho, with nothing but the peacefulness of the lake around you, sounds perfect. You can already imagine the cool breeze against your skin, the way the sunlight will dance across the surface of the water.

“I’d love that,” you say softly, leaning into his touch.

Minho’s eyes glint with satisfaction, and he presses one last kiss to your lips before stepping back to finish preparing lunch. “But first, finish your food.”

As you sit down to the table, Minho places a plate in front of you, the meal simple but delicious. You eat in comfortable silence, occasionally exchanging soft smiles and touches, your hands brushing across the table as if neither of you can stand to be apart for long.

For the first time, the two of you are connected in a whole new level that it feels like nothing can tear you and Minho apart anymore.

-

The boat glides across the tranquil waters, the rhythmic sound of the oars slicing through the lake the only disturbance in the otherwise still air. The sun hangs high above, casting a shimmering path of light across the surface, making it look like a trail of gold leading them deeper into the heart of the lake.

You sit facing Minho, watching the muscles in his arms flex and contract as he rows, his gaze fixed on the water, intense and focused. There’s something serene about this moment, a rare softness between the two of you. It feels almost surreal, considering what happened just last night.

Last night, when this very lake was a silent witness to the horror you both created. Now, it feels like a different place—calm, almost idyllic. But the memory is still there, just beneath the surface, lingering like a dark shadow that no amount of sunlight can chase away.

Minho slows the boat as you reach the middle of the lake, his eyes shifting to meet yours. There’s a glint of something unreadable in them, a darkness that always simmers just beneath his surface. It’s the very same darkness that pulled you in, binding you to him in ways that go beyond love. It’s obsession, need, and something far more dangerous.

He lets go of the oars and shifts closer, his knees brushing against yours as he reaches out, his hand sliding into his pocket. You tilt your head, watching curiously as he pulls out something small and shiny.

Your breath catches when you realize what it is. Your wedding ring.

Minho holds it up between his fingers, the gold band catching the sunlight. You stare at it, your heart pounding as memories of your vows come flooding back. The promises you made to each other, promises that were shattered and reforged into something far more twisted and unbreakable.

“I believe this belongs to you,” Minho murmurs, his voice low and soft.

There’s a tenderness in his gaze that disarms you, makes you feel as if he’s peeling back every layer of yourself and looking straight into your soul.

He takes your left hand, his touch featherlight as he slides the ring back onto your finger. You shiver at the sensation, your eyes locked onto his as he recites the very vow you spoke on your wedding day.

“In sickness and in health…” he begins, his voice barely a whisper but strong, his gaze unwavering. “For better, for worse. For richer, for poorer…”

You swallow hard, your heart hammering against your ribcage. There’s an odd sense of finality in his tone, as if he’s sealing not just a promise but something darker—a pact, a blood oath that binds you together not just in love, but in sin.

“...Till death do us part,” he finishes, his thumb brushing over your knuckles, where the ring now rests again, a symbol of everything you are to each other.

You draw in a shaky breath, the words catching in your throat. “Till death do us part,” you repeat, your voice just as soft, but the weight of the vow feels heavier now, burdened by all the blood and secrets you share.

Minho’s eyes light up at your response, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He leans forward, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the still air.

“We’re bound again,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours as he speaks. “In life, in death, in everything. You’re mine.”

“And you’re mine,” you whisper back, your fingers curling around the front of his shirt, pulling him closer. There’s a fierceness in your words, a possessiveness that matches his own. Because you are each other’s, wholly and completely, in ways that no one else could ever understand.

Minho cups your face, his thumb stroking your cheek as he kisses you—soft at first, almost reverent. But then it deepens, turning into something desperate and consuming. You can feel the intensity in every press of his lips, every brush of his tongue against yours.

It’s not just love; it’s hunger, an insatiable need to claim and be claimed.

When he finally pulls back, both of you are breathless. Minho rests his forehead against yours again, his fingers threading through your hair.

“With you, I’m never alone,” he whispers, his voice raw and honest in a way that sends shivers down your spine. “You’re the only one who understands me, the only one who’ll stay.”

“And I will,” you reply, your fingers tightening around his, “Always.”

Minho’s smile is small but genuine, and for a moment, he looks almost boyish, the hard edges of his face softened by the sunlight filtering through the trees around the lake. He brushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his eyes dark and intense as they lock onto yours.

“We’re more than just lovers now,” he murmurs, his voice low.

Your gaze shifts to the water surrounding the boat, to the spot where Ryan’s body lies hidden beneath the surface. A chill runs down your spine, but it’s not fear—it’s the thrill of what you’ve become together. Bound by love, by blood, by the darkness that twists through both of your souls.

You softly nod in agreement as you turn back to him and with that, the two of you are bound once more—not just by the ring now resting on your finger, but by the weight of the secret that lies at the bottom of the lake. It’s your bond, your burden, and in a twisted way, it’s also your triumph.

Because what you have with Minho isn’t normal, and it isn’t sane. It’s dark and consuming and entirely your own. It’s a love that defies all reason, a connection that can’t be broken, no matter how much blood is spilled.

After all, when love is not madness it is not love.

-

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[lilacgaby]

‧₊˚ running out of time,

to make you love me. ₊˚⊹ᡣ𐭩

THE PRINCE'S BALL was to be had on his 18th birthday. the week before, you realize the feelings you have harbored over the years for him. little did you know you were both fighting against the time restraint placed on him.

-☆pair. prince!katsuki x servant!reader. tags: fem!reader, cursing, romance, kissing, childhoodfriend!reader, insecurities, pet names(?), miscommunication trope, wingmen, angst to fluff. royal!au wc: 5k

-✩note. based off this drabble i did a long time ago.

“prince, please! just let me–” he shoved your hand that was moving to button up his shirt away, glaring at you. “no. i can do this by myself.”

he fumbled with the buttons, large hands trickly maneuvering them into their respective places. it was a definite struggle, as seen through the furrow in his brow, the snarl on his lips, the twitch of his brow.

oh, and the fact that the shirt was inside out with all the buttons in the wrong holes.

you sighed as you finally took his hands into yours, something that would result in a peasants hand getting cut off entirely. “prince,” you started, “this is my only responsibility. if you become good at this too i'll be out of a job.” you joked.

he scoffed, letting you pull his hand to his side as you unbuttoned his work. flipping the shirt around and working nimbly to get it on. “didn't even need y’r help anyways, i had it.” he muttered.

“of course you did, it's just– this is my job, your highness.” his eye twitched at the assertion of his rank. while it made him feel empowered by others, extras as he'd call them, it brought an odd feeling to have you of all people refer to him that way.

he’d grew up alongside you, the daughter of his very own mother’s handmaiden. you'd play around the castle together, sitting in for lessons with each other. to others it was an odd sight for you to be there, with clothes made of less refined material and hair unstyled and free.

he was raised the first twelve years of his life seeing you as his equal, viewing you almost as a royal all the same. until it was decided you'd be his personal servant. the nickname you had forgotten to time that you'd dubbed him all those years ago was now replaced by a formal ‘prince’. you'd bow to him and fetch him anything he needed. you'd stay by his side all day long, almost like you weren't allowed to leave.

because you weren't. because you were his, though not in the way he wanted.

“i already told you,” he whispered so lowly, if you weren't so close to him you wouldn't have heard it. “when it's just us it's katsuki. like it..

like it used to be.”

your hand paused, staying where it was fluffing up the collar of his button-up. your eyes widened and heart fastened, the pumping in your ears as a smile overtook your face. “..okay katsuki.”

an equally flushed look brushed over him, “tsk, whatever. we got a busy day today so, hurry up [name]..” you nodded, saluting mockfully as you hurried fixed his coat onto him, making sure his slacks were nicely pleated and shoes spotless before he head out to address the royals.

the royals who were visiting today in regards to his birthday bash in a week. the one where he'd have to choose a wife, one who'd hold the future of his kingdom in her hands alongside his.

you followed closely behind him as he made his way down to the main court, no words were shared between you but you understood the internal turmoil going through his head as best as you could.

mostly because you really didn't want him to get married either.

a longing glance went unnoticed by you as he looked at you, red eyes noticing the same feeling of anxiety in yours.

he balled his fist a little tighter at the sight, before slamming the doors of the court open, making everyone jump. you bowed deeply before following him, his hands deep in the silken slacks specially made for him.

katsuki hated how you weren't allowed to sit down almost as much as he hated this meeting entirely. dumbass kings and queens of other kingdoms looked at him, or more accurately the figurative seat he'd soon have as ruler, with fake practiced smiles on their faces. fake interest and fake emotions, fake everything.

he didn't fight the snarl on his face, the discontent in his posture as he rolled his eyes at their words, not sparing glances at the photos of their daughters or offers of money to him and his parents.

he truly didn't care, at least, not until they brought up you.

an older king, one with a smile that was more so with his eyes than his lips, joked to the king, “so, when your son gets married, can i have the servant? she's a looker.”

the rest of the royals laughed, hands covering their faces as katsuki felt disgusted for you, so much he just had to speak, “back off. why are you talking about her like that anyways? she's not for sale.” at least he managed not to curse.

a queen with a stupidly large fan in her hand made exaggeratedly big eyes, an ‘o’ on her lips as she spoke with a sickeningly sweet voice, “oh, don't you know future king? when the queen is assigned to this kingdom, your servant will be switched, considering she isn't a, well, he.” another joined in, red lipstick smothered over their lips, “no self respecting princess would ever let their betrothed have a servant of the opposite sex, what a scandal!”

laughs filled the room once more, though katsuki and his parents did not join in. he gripped the wood of his chair tightly, you swore you heard it crack under the weight of his anger. a vein was visible in his arms, a glare on his face. though he stayed silent. he glanced at you occasionally, and you'd give him a polite wave.

the rest of the conversation went about as smoothly as expected. the royals clashed with the kingdom’s generally ‘out of norm’ beliefs, a woman as the main advisor of the kingdom, and not to mention the queen holding majority power steady? but they barely voiced their discomfort since they wanted to stay on the queen and king’s good side. with a wave of the hand the queen gestured for katsuki to leave.

so katsuki left as soon as he was allowed to, almost jumping out of his seat. he left without a proper dismissal to the royals, something he'd get reprimanded for later. you right behind him. “where are we going prince? are you hungry?”

“no.” his voice was dry, no emotion seeping through as he continued walking throughout the halls. his face was hidden from your view. “okay, so where are we going?”

“the gardens.” your face scrunched up in confusion, you sped up your steps to try and catch him. “wait, the gardens? why?”

he stopped, making you bump into him as he finally looked into your eyes for the first time in a while. “because we need to talk, [name].” his eyes looked almost betrayed, sorrowful. your mouth opened to respond but you were cut off by your own need to keep up as he started up again.

through the halls and down a staircase, then turning to the left.

he stopped at the center of it all, almost to the entrance of the maze. stood in front of a grand waterfall built into the greenery, one you were very familiar with. the same one you'd played at as kids.

“katsuki.” you heaved. having to chase him through a flight of stairs was not for the weak, a.k.a you. you plopped right down on the bench next to him, ungraciously downing a water bottle as you closed your eyes. the sound of birds chirping, water running, and wind blowing through the garden filled your ears. a sense of serenity flooding over you two.

“when were you going to tell me?” katsuki’s voice cut through it all, a soft tone in his statement as he looked away from you. you jumped up at the sudden noise, but quickly asked, “tell you about what?”

he scoffed. “about what happens when i get married. how you're just going to leave? you're just going to leave me?” his eyes burrowed into your soul, accusatory words leaving his mouth as he stared at you.

“no, no i just– katsuki i didn't want to add another thing to stress about to you so quickly. i was going to tell you, but they told you first. i'm sorry.”

“you should be. i– i don't-,” his words got caught up in his mind. his mouth slightly hung open as he found himself unable to complete his sentence. his brain short circuited when you grabbed onto his hand, intertwining and bringing them onto your lap as you ask, “is everything okay?”

the words rushed out defensively. “yes, fuck. yes i'm okay. i don't like you hiding things from me so, don't pull that shit again.” he internally slapped himself on the head, his mind yelling a resounding no at his mouth.

he wanted to tell you how he needed you to stay, how he wanted you by his side for eternity. how he wished you were a royal, because he would've proposed just to the sight of you in the mornings. to the candid moments your two shared so often.

but he didn't.

you were undeterred by his harsh language, squeezing his hands before letting go and nodding. “ of course, prince.”

there it was again. the everlasting reminder of the differences between you, the boundaries that had never been dared crossed. though, as you guided him to the dining hall, he felt he might have to take that chance.

…

he finished dinner and changed, wanting to go to bed early that day. you bowed once more, before going to your own personal chambers just across from him.

you took a long, hot shower. the cascading of the water onto your body helping sooth the questions plaguing your mind. you washed your face, brushed your teeth and laid onto your bed, staring at the moonlit sky as you sigh.

you didn't want to leave katsuki. not at all. you didn't want him to get married, you didn't want him to kiss or be affectionate with someone else, you wanted him for you, like you two have always been. just for each other.

you wanted him to confide in you as equal again, you dreamt of being able to sit at the same tables and converse publicly. you wanted to hold his hand and not fear one day it'd be chopped off.

you wanted to be his. fully.

you let the sounds of the remaining water drip from the faucet rock you to sleep, impulsive thoughts striking your mind as you thought.. you might as well use these last days to show your feelings to him. you'll be gone next week anyways.

waking up with a renewed sense of vigor, you knew you now only had a couple days to show katsuki your feelings indirectly. well, as indirectly as you could think of.

starting this day, you snuck in more lingering touches than you thought possible, complimenting him whenever you were alone. being sweet to him, so sweet that he kept asking if you wanted something.

“prince, i brought some more of those chilis you like.”

instead of accepting them graciously, he only eyed you suspiciously. “the hell do you want?” he asked, staring at you accusedly as he bit down on one with no reaction.

“nothing! why do you keep saying that?” you pouted, “i should take the damn chilies back.”

“no way. these are mine, [name].” he snatched the basket out of your hands and stuffed one in his mouth. when he finally gulped it down, he adorned a lazy smirk, “thanks, [name].”

you hated how your heart reacted to him.

while your plan was underway of trying to get him to realize your feelings for you, he-

was trying to figure out how to keep you by his side. he used your only off day, mondays, as a way to get some advice. too bad he was friends with a bunch of bumbling idiots.

they were gathered around a place meant to practice their swordsmanship. his ‘friends’ who consisted of sons of dukes, duchesses, and advisors hung around. he kicked out a lot of them, leaving only three. sero, kirishima, and kaminari.

“hey bakugo, what's got you all crazy?” kaminari asked, trying to snipe an apple off of a nervous kirishima's head with a bow. “yeah, you've been giving us a death stare all day.” sero agreed, laughing at his repeated misses.

katsuki's back faced them.“i..,” he sucked in a breath. “ineedyourhelp.” he muttered quickly.

“what?” they all stopped, staring at him confused.

“ineedyourhelp.”

“slow down man-”

“i need your help.”

they all were jaw slack at the revelation, eyebrows raised as they stared at each other and back at him. they collectively chose not to make fun of him, almost feeling the urge to applaud his growth. “oh.. uh- what's up bro?”

katsuki breathed in, before averting his eyes and explaining. “my.. personal servant. found out she's gonna leave when i get married to some random princess, ill never see her again. but.. i don't want to lose her. i can't imagine my life without her.”

the three blinked, they'd never really seen bakugo this way. a look in his eyes that could only be described as, “love.” kaminari muttered, his hand supporting his chin as he diagnosed him. “you're in love man, congrats!”

he was now breathless as thoughts ran throughout his head, he found himself unable to respond. it was so obvious, his feelings for you were out of the ordinary, but he could never quite place the title of his symptoms til now.

the three shared a look at each other again, before sero pointed his finger in the air, “obviously, you want to marry her.”

katsuki sighed, a hand moving to support his head from head his neck. “so?”

“so,” kirishima started, “you marry her. easy.”

“not easy, isn't that like against the law?” kaminari cut in, picking up his bow once again.

“law or tradition, who knows? but maybe in those dusty old books we can find a law that like, lets him do this?” sero suggested.

kirishima snapped. “that's it!,” the arrow flew to pin the apple into the wall, “we just have to prove that he's allowed to marry a non-royal.”

“you idiots make it sound so easy.”

“cause it is. we can handle the research with help from your huge library!” kaminari pointed out, grabbing the staked apple and taking a bit out of it. “matter of fact. let's start now, we're going to need to plan out for your big day anyways.” kirishima held out a hand to bakugo.

a smirk came over katsuki’s face as he grabbed his hand, before nodding. “right.”

the rest of the day was spent knee deep in book upon books. the book keeper’s apprentice even helped them out, though they finally left at midnight with the ten books that would have the answers they need. they'd shoved the bulk of the books under his bed, high-fiving him sleepily as they hopped onto carriages, promising to be back tomorrow.

and back they were. the grind continued as they read page to page, finding clauses and conditions that could help katsuki. they each were assigned a book to look through, though they had to hide it from you. which was hard since looking after katsuki was your job.

“prince, is there anything you or your guests would like?” you asked, internally sobbing as you couldn't undergo your top tier plan with his friends around. what were they even doing? the entire day they spent holed up in his chambers, sat in a strange circle as they all read through the books.

“uh, we're okay-”

“actually servant,” kaminari cut in, a cheshire smile on his face, “we made a huge mess in the library yesterday. mind cleaning it for us?”

“o-oh. i don't mind, excuse me.” with that, and the tray of snacks you'd left behind, you were gone. sero and katsuki finished their books first, not finding anything of use. they started the next ones, when a couple hours in, kirishima suddenly jumped up, the cheese he was snacking on now discarded as he held the book into the air. “guys! i got something!” he was about to read it when an excited katsuki went and took it out of his hands, reading it in his mind.

‘clause 1.43.77, any king or queen who rules over their kingdom must choose a royal to accompany them by their side and produce an heir to the kingdom.

however, if a non-royal has proven their worthiness through devotion and loyalty to not only said king or queen, but the kingdom, they are an eligible bachelor as well.’

“this.. this can work then.” the four exchanged exhausted smiles, before collectively passing out. you came back to the sight of them all slumped over, you were tired yourself from putting away hundreds of law books. you grabbed pillows and blankets, placing them over the heirs to the kingdom, gently raising their heads and laying them onto the pillows.

you were upset at the day lost, katsuki had barely been sparing you a glance as of late. and that continued into the next day. you brought breakfast for all him and his guests, waking them up with a pull of a curtain. they all groaned collectively, trying to shield their eyes from the blinding sun. “what time even is it?” one of them grumbled. “too early.”

“it is noon, i let you all sleep in. you really should be getting up now.” you left the tray in front of them, being mindful of the books splayed open around them.

they got up, the red-haired one seemingly smelling the food in the air? odd. they all were really odd to say the least. they stared at you silently, making you tilt your head in confusion. all before katsuki raised a hand to you, mirroring his own mothers actions towards himself. “you're.. dismissed until the ball, [name].”

your eyes widened, mouth agape for a second before taking your leave. as the door closed behind you, a weird feeling of despair overtook you. you wobbled over to your room, locking the door behind as the feeling settled over you. you stared out the window, the cloudiness of the skies doing nothing to alleviate your mood.

meanwhile, katsuki was planning once again. there was now only two days left, two days to decide how he was going to plan out his bash.

two days to deal with the uncertainties that would arise from his crush on you. he could lose you, marry some other woman and imagine it was you laying next to him. imagine it was your lips and not hers, pretend she acted like you, all to save from the stresses of worrying about the problems to come.

no, he wanted you. he needed all of you, he needed to be all yours.

he sent his friends off, calling carriages for them

and reluctantly thanking them for their help. he walked around the gardens again, reminiscing on the years you two had spent, the many memories you'd made together.

he thought back to the way you'd play together, the causal touches and referring of each other something he'd taken for granted.

he closed his eyes, he never wanted his time with you to end, kingdom be damned. he wanted to memorialize your time together forever.

unknowingly, foiling your very own plans to make more with him. you didn't know what to do with yourself, you found yourself back at the servant’s quarters sniffling softly into the lap of the head servant, your mother. you knew he didn't upset you intentionally, right?

your mother listened as you explained what had happened, how you never had felt like such a failure. maybe it was those idiot friends of his, you didn't know.

your mother comforted you with a hand running along your hair, her embrace rocking you to sleep that night. her eyes looked into your sleeping ones, your face squished against her legs as wore a face of worry. your feelings were obvious, attending the bash and seeing him choose a bride would hurt you..

should she forbid you from attending?

…

katsuki was walking around his room aimlessly. his mind was running, purely on thoughts of you. he couldn't get you out his mind, he missed you deeply. but, he needed the space away from you to think. at least that's what he thought earlier.

he was basically codependent on your presence now, the day he'd spent away from you felt like an eternity.

he couldn't sleep. he'd laid in his bed dozens of times at this point, shutting his eyes, covering his ears, even trying to hum to himself. nothing worked.

he finally couldn't take it anymore, he found himself walking to your room. his hand hovered over the door, until he finally knocked. at no reply, he assumed you were asleep, though he heard the shuffling of feet inside. ‘this will make it easier.’ he thought, as he whispered and figured he'd pour his feelings out to you, response or not. his hand splayed against your door, palm pressed against the oak of the wood as he began.

“[name].” he heard the shuffling of feet stop. “i.. i have.. feelings for you. ones that i shouldn't have. i care for you deeply. and– i think i love you.” he was still as he waited for something, anything from you.

he let a small smile overtake his face, his hand falling from the door and going back into his pocket. “g’night, [name].” he went back into his room, finally able to rest now that he felt he got his feelings off his chest.

his heart was racing, he still didn't know if you felt the same. you said nothing, which was expected. he did drop a bomb on you all of a sudden. he finally drifted to bed.. not hearing the open and closing of your door. and not seeing that it was your mother who he had confessed to, not you who was currently asleep in her mother’s bed.

your mother pondered over his words, smiling at just how hopeless you two truly were. she caressed your hair once more, falling asleep beside you as she decided.

you'd have to go, and you'd be dressed like royalty in your own right.

your hair was ruined. you groaned as you caught an eye of yourself in one of the many mirrors in this part of the chambers, some of your friends laughing at the sight of you. this last day would be busy, too busy. it'd be your last day as katsuk’s servant, and you'd barely be able to see him.

you pouted, waltzing around the chambers mindlessly until your mother arrived behind you.

“[name], let's go. you have fittings for the bash tomorrow.” she grabbed you before you could voice your disapproval, taking you to your room. though she let go of you and walked into your room. you mindlessly went to katsuki’s room, wanting to be at his side at least once before tomorrow. at no reply to your knock, you excused yourself before walking in, only to be met by the sight of a messy room. empty. you cleaned his room up a little bit, making the task for his future servant a bit easier.

you left his room, laying on your bed before you saw gorgeous dresses that could probably buy your life two times over.

“mother, i don't even think i'll go tomorrow.”

“you have to, dear.” she grabbed your hand, “the prince would want you there alongside you. just like how you've been all his life.”

you looked to the floor, “but he sent me away..” your mother responded by nudging your head up. “he still cares for you. your absence is going to be odd for him, don't you think he was just trying to protect himself?”

you sighed and shrugged, “i guess i'll go then, if not, then to tie off loose ends.” you eyed the three dresses in front of you, and chose the one woven in silks and lace of your favorite color. “that one,” you pointed to it.

“i'll choose that one.”

…

funnily enough, as you walked into the bash and found yourself drinking punch, those were the words you'd felt the most fear of hearing. you fit right in alongside the princesses of other lands scattered across the hall, making lines to go speak to katsuki, who was absentmindedly staring at a wall. he looked like he'd rather be anywhere else in the world, but as his eyes locked on to your moving form towards the balcony, he excused himself.

“[name].” he called out to you, making you turn around and smile softly. “katsuki.”

“you look.. amazing.” he complimented, moving closer to you. “thank you for.. uh.. coming.”

“of course, future king. i'll stay by your side 'til

the end of tonight.”

he nodded. “right.” he sighed once more, something he seemed to do a lot around you now. “[name], did you hear me the other night?” he asked, looking into the distant forests surrounding the castle. at the shaking of your head, he continued, “i.. i just really care for you. that's all i want you to know.” he didn't look at you, he didn't think he could handle it right now. even from the vision of his peripherals, the glistening of your skin in the sun that slowly departed, the dress that matched you both in personality and in beauty, the smile that overcame your lips. it was a vision that would live in his dreams eternally.

“i care for you too katsuki.”

he finally turned to face you, he smiled, before opening his mouth to speak. only to be cut off by the sound of an obnoxious trumpet. he was to make his choice. “go.” you said, pushing him inside. your eyes burned as realization set into you, you'd ran out of time.

he was pushed to the center of the hall, all the princesses facing him with practiced smiles. courtesy's and bows that made him feel odd. the crown on his head had never felt so heavy, so burdened as now.

he looked over to you, the words everyone spoke pushed to the back of his mind as you sent an encouraging thumbs up his way. he knew you though, the look on your face was one of underlying sorrow.

even in this room full of people, even in the whole world large and vast, he'd always choose you.

so, when the room was silent and awaiting his answer? he pointed to you, making your breath hitch and eyes go wide.

you pointed to yourself, looking around before mouthing, ‘me?’ to which he mouthed, 'yes, idiot.’

you made your way towards him, eyes wide as everyone gasped. you weren't a royal, evident by the lack of jewelry adorning you.

“[name], it's always only been you. will you rule beside me?”

your eyes grew impossibly wider, pupils dilated to the max as a blush overtook your face. “..you're serious?”

“yes, i am.”

“i– is this even allowed?”

“my parents,” he gestured over to them, who sent polite smiles towards her. “they know about it, i sat down with them yesterday. i'm serious about this. i'm serious about you.”

“but what abou–”

“fuck everything else. this is about you and me.”

“do you accept, ms. [name]?” the bard asked, all eyes on you as, though you only looked into katsuki’s.

“if he'd have me, i'd be honored.”

he wordlessly asked you, and with a tilt of your head you prompted him to kiss you. though it was belated, the hall filled with cheers for the two of you.

“well,” the queen beckoned you two to her side, your hands intertwined as you stood in front of her. “this is surely a first, however.. it is undoubted that ms. [name] and her family have proved their loyalty and dedication to the kingdom.

therefore, we have no objection. masaru?”

“yes mitski.”

they both got up, the king wielding a sword as he stood next to you. katsuki helped guide you to the floor, he was on one knee as he was sworn in.

sworn in as king by your side.

the sword tapped his shoulders gently, a crown being brought out on a pillow and placed upon his head as you looked in awe, as an equally gorgeous one was placed unto yours.

“katsuki, i entrust our kingdom to you. with all of our people in the hands of you, and of course, your trusted wife.”

“i understand.” he said, bowing his head down to his father.

“[name].” the queen called to you, filling you with a sense of urgency. “yes my queen?”

she laughed, before taking a moment to whisper in your ear. “mitski is fine.” she cleared her throat, before continuing. “you will be a dedicated servant any longer, tomorrow you will wake up as the queen of our kingdom my dear. please, do your best to guide our king, and set the kingdom onto a path of prosperity.”

“thank you my– mitski. i will.” you bowed deeply, before you were helped up by katsuki once again.

you walked out the hall with katsuki at your side, the weight of the crown a shared experience between you two.

“‘suki.” the nickname lost to time finds itself back on your lips as you're led to his room, though this was the first time in years that it was out of familiarity, not work.

“[name].”

“thank you.”

“for what?”

“risking it all.. doing all that. it was.. indescribable.”

“.. it was worth it for you. i'd– i'd do anything for you. now we can make up for lost time. i really

missed you these last days.”

“i did too, god i was a wreck without you.”

“you wouldn't believe how bad i was without you.”

it seemed practiced, as if you'd done it a million times when he gestured for you to follow him to his bed. the way you melted into each other was unimaginable, not even the discomfort of your corset getting in the way of how he made you feel, though you'd gotten up to change.

now wearing house wear, clothes you'd never imagine you'd be wearing in his quarters, you laid next to him, the same moon shining brightly upon the two of you as he held you.

his head was on top of yours as you shared this wordless embrace, one that spoke thousands of words you'd need not to speak.

a kiss, one you'd both never though you'd get to share, especially not in his very own bed, was all that left the two of you as you settled into each other for the night.

you'd begun a servant and ended as queen, ranks though meant nothing to you, for your only wish was to stay eternally by his side.

a wish you both fought for.

tags: @gold24fish @nemisimp

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[ghostlyfleur]

okay but steve harrington + shy! innocent! crybaby-ish reader where he is like play fighting with her and tickling her to the point where he’s pinned her down and she’s laughing so cute! but secretly, the weight of her boy on top of her and his hands all over her thighs and stomach, is making her rlly rlly wet 🥹

she’s like “steveee stop tickling me!” bc she can’t take it anymore and he does! but he also fully takes his weight off of her which makes her start huffing and whining for him to come back, grabby hands shooting out at him. steve is confused, ofc, like “honey i thought you wanted me to stop?” and she’s so embarrassed covering her face, squeezing her thighs and almost, if not, crying in frustration.

steve pulls her hands off her face to see her eyes, laying back down on her body when her legs spread open again, looking at her to explain further, but all she can do is whine that “it hurts s’bad stevie”.

he’s confused for a moment but then he glances down and her ridden-up oversized t-shirt reveals the wet spot forming on her panties. he presses a big kiss on his angel’s lips before cooing on her mouth, lightly touching her clothed cunt, “aw honey you wanted me to stop bc your lil pussy got all wet f’me, huh? is that what you were trying to say?”

to which she responds something like “wanted y’to stop ticklin’ me, not to stop touching me :,(“! steve finds his lovely girl so adorable, he makes sure to take good care of her afterwards, like always! maybe even mocking her just a bit from getting so turned on from a little tickling 🫠

holy shiiiiit — normal sized font below the cut

this is definitely soft dom!daddy!steve…

like he’s so doting and caring and careful and affectionate, always spoiling and praising his angel, being all playful and funny and silly like he always is— and the two are best friends, don’t get it twisted! they’re dating, but they’re still the best of friends… they banter and play fight and mock each other, share secrets and personal thoughts and feelings and they gossip together, play pranks on each other… all the good best friend things…

so they’re very close. very. loyal and devoted and completely obsessed with each other. as much as steve’s sweet girl loves to dote on him and take care of him, it’s more so her stevie’s self-assigned job to care for his baby.

and so steve buys her flowers, takes her on cute dates, is always looking out for her and can’t help his casual dominance, tying her shoes and carrying her places sometimes and brushing her hair and treating her like a little doll, his little doll. slowly acclimates her to what being in a relationship is like, he’s so so patient.

but he’s so hungry for her, it drives him insane how oblivious she is to the affect she has on him, how fucking adorable and clueless she is but also so very eager to please— because that’s all she wants, to be stevie’s good girl, to make him feel safe and loved and cared for, to make him feel good. but she gets greedy easily now… now that steve has ingrained in her mind that he truly wants her and loves her, that he’s all hers, that he wants to spoil her, marry her and make her his little wife, and spend his entire life with her!!!!!! her! his best friend! his person! they’re soulmates after all!!!!!!

her shyness stays, it’s just who she is (and steve finds it so fucking cute he has to constantly hold himself back from cooing at her all the time), but she’s just so horny for her stevie and doesn’t know how to say it ‘cause she’s so embarrassed and flustered and unsure and finds it hard to voice her needs and wants, so it manifests into tears. whenever she wants something from her stevie she gets all soft and small and pouty, grabbing at him and whining and holding his fingers to get his attention, and steve coos at her, can’t help it, his sweet angel girl so needy, and he always wants to give her the world, right? that’s his baby! she deserves to be spoiled! but her stevie is very clear in his rules— you have to speak up, tell him what you want, communicate. that’s very important to him.

and yeah, in theory his angel thinks it’s perfect, the communication and attention and how safe it makes her feel, but she physically can’t speak up when her stevie is making her feel all these sweet, intense, pretty feelings that she’s never felt before, even though she knows her stevie, her daddy, will always give her whatever she wants 😖 she just gets so pouty and teary-eyed and huffs and puffs, crossing her arms or stomping her foot like a spoiled brat until she’s so desperate bc her stevie is adamant she has to tell him what she wants before he does anything, that he’ll give her whatever she wants if she asks for it, that she whines and mumbles and asks him “pretty please, daddy” and steve is gone.

when her perfect, incredible, dreamy stevie is playing around with her, after she teases him or mocks him or they pretend-fight, or when they’re joking around, he’ll tickle her ‘cause she has the cutest little giggles, even though her laugh is kind of weird— sometimes loud, sometimes silent, sometimes she’ll fall down from laughing so hard. still, he loves it. it’s his favorite sound in the world, along with her little needy noises. it’s always different and funny and steve loves finding out what kind of laugh he’ll get out of his sweet girl that day, so he tickles. and if there’s one thing about his angel is that she loves using him as a weighted blanket, loves his weight on her, pressing her down and molding their bodies together, so that coupled with how his hands are all over her body, fingers gripping her and poking at her, his bulge rubbing against her, she gets needy. wet. very greedy. but if her stevie gets up or pulls away or sits back????? away from her????? she’ll turn into such a crybaby, like it’s the most insulting thing he could ever do, to pull away.

and steve knows. he knows how much she’s taken to steve being all over her, making her feel good, letting her explore and learn what they both like, being the only one to touch her and her him, but she still carries this air of innocence and softness and inexperience that drives him up the wall. the little looks she gives him and the shy smiles and the eagerness. she’ll be the horniest little minx, crawling up his lap and rubbing her cunt against his thigh, but will also hide her face and whimper and get all shy even if steve is balls deep inside her.

the duality of her never fails to disarm him completely. steve definitely tickles his angel sometimes when he wants to rile her up and get her needy for him— he thinks she’s clueless about it, but soon it turns into this thing where steve has pretty much conditioned her to turn into a needy little mess whenever he starts tickling her— she gets wet instantly now.

[scuderiasundays]

chili’s angels

summary: carlos can’t say no to his little girls, leaving him with some explaining to do on media day + a little insta au at the end 🌶️

words: 806

a/n: this one was in my drafts for a while but i brought it out for @thatsdemko and all the dad! carlos girlies out there. i know there are a lot of you! tagging @vamossainz55, @sainzcaleruega, @monzabee, and @diorleclerc just because. feedback is much appreciated as always. hugs and kisses 🫶🏼

When Y/N found out she was pregnant with twin girls, Carlos was over the moon. He had been raised by a vivacious mother and alongside two sisters, who despite driving him mad as a child, had become his closest confidantes. Carlos stopped wearing the Tom Ford cologne you once loved when it started to trigger your nausea. He rushed to a nearby drive-through at midnight solely to satisfy your craving for fries and a milkshake. And when your shoelaces needed tying, he was always there to help.

“I feel like I’m asking way too much of you,” you spoke. He smiled and gently caressed your growing belly. "Never, mi amor. Taking care of you and our girls is my purpose now," he said tenderly. "You're an amazing mom already, and I can't wait to see our daughters grow up with the same strength and love that you have."

You had held off on naming the twins because you strongly felt you owed it to your daughters to meet them and get an actual feel for their energies. Together, you spent an evening brainstorming a list of potential names, Carlos voicing a particular preference for their names starting with the same letter. Labor proved to be more challenging than anyone had ever prepared you for, leaving you drained once it was over. Carlos cradled the newborns in his arms, softly uttering their names, "Melina" and "Mila," while his gaze shifted from one little face to the other.

Flash forward, and your twin daughters thought the world of their dad. You loved getting to see Carlos in a new light, your love for him only growing as you watched him interact with your girls. "Can we go outside and play? Please!" Melina and Mila were like the Energizer Bunny times two on the rare weekends when Carlos was home. Although he rarely said no to them, they were both feeling under the weather, so he shook his head. "How about we stay inside and do some drawing?" he suggested.

"Can we paint your nails? Mamá always lets us," the girls asked, their eyes widening as they edged closer to him. Carlos paused for a moment, thinking, what harm could it do? Eventually, he nodded in agreement. The girls knew exactly where their mother kept her nail polish kit and eagerly fetched the equipment. "We have Barbie pink and Ferrari red, just like our cars," Melina said, holding up the bottles with her pudgy fingers. "Mama wears the red one when we watch you drive on TV," Mila chimed in. He assumed Melina was referring to the little toy LaFerraris he had bought the girls on their birthday. He loved watching the girls as they raced in their garden, a tangible sign they had inherited his passion for cars.

"What's that thing you always say, Papá? For the Ferrari?" Mila looked up at her dad with chocolate brown eyes. "Forza Ferrari, mija," Carlos replied. Before he could even pick a color, Melina grabbed his hand and started painting his thumbnail bright red. The girls both had a hard time staying within the lines, so Carlos took it upon himself to clean up the edges. After they were done, he was instructed to place each hand under the UV lamp. He couldn’t help but wonder if the nail polish would come off easily later, but he soon noticed the excitement of being nail artists had worn the twins out. He picked them up and gently laid them down for a nap.

As Carlos boarded his flight to Hungary, he realized that his red manicure was not coming off without a fight. He absentmindedly picked at his nails, silently wishing his wife had been there to offer him the mini nail file she always carried. With media day approaching, he knew that people would definitely pick up on his vibrant nails.

"Nice nails, Carlos. Whose handiwork is this?" Natalie, a familiar face, pointed at his hands with a smile. Carlos chuckled and replied, "Oh, this masterpiece? My twin daughters painted them. I just don’t know how to say no to those two." He shrugged, shaking his head.

"Well, here they are to say hello.” The TV presenter had organized a surprise Zoom call with Y/N and Carlos' daughters, who had been nicknamed "Chili’s Angels" by his fans.

"Buenos días, mis hijas. I hope you're feeling better," he greeted them, waving at the camera. Melina proudly held up her mom's hand, showcasing her red nails. "Look! You and Mamá match now!" she exclaimed. Carlos winked at his wife, grateful for the little moment of connection despite the distance.

"Forza Ferrari, Papá!" Mila squealed, waving goodbye. “They really are my angels, all three of them,” he thought, setting off a mental countdown of days until he was back in their arms again.

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liked by yourusername, landonorris, and 57,575 others

carlossainz55: life is sweeter with my angels. hope i’m making you proud 🫶🏼

yourusername: we’re so lucky to have you! you just had to choose THAT photo of mila scarfing down her pizza? clearly my genes 🍕🤤

fan1: chili’s angels merch when? i swear i will buy it ALL

landonorris: ask melly and milly who their favorite uncle is and i’ll let you by at the start on sunday!

carlossainz55: “come over, uncle lando! we can paint your nails orange.” - melina & mila sainz

anasainzvdec: the most adorable nieces an aunt could wish for ❤️

scuderiaferrari: when mila said “forza ferrari” in an interview this morning! who’s cutting the damn onions?

fan2: carlos and @yourusername are starting them off young 🥹

[eldrith]

Thinking about having to be a messenger with Jacaerys during the beginning of the war but traveling on foot instead of dragonback... experiencing the common people, traveling the King's Road with him <3

yes this. you'd be sent by Rhaenyra to treat with potential allies, but had to keep low profiles - no dragons, she'd insisted. maybe you go with him bc you have some kind of experience with common life - or you are a commoner, who she trusts enough to escort her beloved son and heir.

you'd quickly discover that traveling the kingsroad was dangerous, even with the sworn sword you'd been sent with; trauma bonding yay

thinking about hiding under cloaks w him, about how he'd get so jealous if any person tried to speak with you with more interest than you were comfortable with. showing him foods and ways of life he'd never known, or experiencing it together.

& traveling on foot means one thing: staying in inns. so obviously the only one bed trope. except Jace is too kind and proud, and actually will not share a bed with you, instead opting to sleep on a pile of your cloaks which doesn't help his feelings for you because now he's cuddling up with a cloak that smells like you

now all he can do is stare at you longingly when your back is to him

being mistaken for husband and wife often, but eventually letting it happen because it's easier to keep your covers that way (and who are you to correct someone if they think Jacaerys is your husband?)

Jace 100% teaches you to fight at some point. or gives you a knife. & then immediately has to take a walk alone in the woods when he first sees you wield it bc it is so excruciatingly hot to him and he needs to take a fucking moment

& you both realize at some point your feelings for each other, but you're stuck with each other for what could be months. lots of longing tbh... (unless you were betrothed/married & then you'd be constantly sneaking off and trying to find a moment away from the poor sworn sword who just needs to get the Prince and Princess there safe)

[topguncortez]

Are You With Me? | Ch I

| Jake Seresin x Shy!Wifey

series masterlist | next part

synopsis: Jake gets a terrifying call in the middle of the night that has him rushing to his ex-wife's side. Y/N is put in the middle of two men who she cared about. The Seresins get shocking news.

word count: 2.2k

warnings: emergency rooms, medical inaccuracies, mentions of blood, childhood cancer, fighting, divorce, mentions of cheating

“What happened?” Jake asked, out of breath as he ran down the corridor. He had just fallen asleep when he got a frantic call from his ex wife. He could hardly make out the words she was saying to him, but he managed to understand that she was taking their daughter to the ER. It was like a hot knife in Jake’s chest as he sprinted out of bed and broke nearly all traffic laws to get to the hospital. 

Y/N’s was shaking like a leaf in the wind, as she took a step away from the large window where she had been watching doctors and nurses tend to her child, “I-I don’t know,” Her voice was thick with tears, her eyes and nose red. The only thing she wore was a nightgown and a jacket over it, “Ella, sh-she has had this cough and it hasn’t gone away and she started complaining about not being able to breathe and then. . .” Y/N sucked in a deep breath, trying to slow her heart rate down, “There was so much blood.” 

“Shh, shh,” Jake pulled her into his chest, cradling the back of her head. A loud sob racked through her body, and Jake held her tighter, “Let’s go sit down, okay? I’ll get you some tea and a snack.”

Y/N nodded her head, and let Jake guide her through the hospital to the waiting room. Her body felt heavy as she collapsed in the chair. The only image flashing through her mind was of her daughter standing in the doorway of her room with blood all over her shirt. Y/N closed her eyes, rubbing them with the heel of her hand. Ella had been complaining about her chest hurting and this persistent cough that would not go away. Y/N just thought it was her being sick with the common cold. 

“Here,” Jake said, holding a foam cup and a granola bar out to his ex-wife. Y/N gingerly took the items and Jake sat down in the chair next to her. The tension stretched over them as they both sat in silence, Y/N nibbling on the granola bar and Jake fiddling with his fingers. The last time they had sat this close to one another was when they were in couples therapy. Most of the time, if they had to sit near each other, they would put one of the kids in the middle. 

“I’m sorry I called you so early,” Y/N mumbled, breaking the silence. 

Jake looked at her, a small frown on his face, “I’d rather you did than wait until morning. I know you hate doctors.”

“Had to get over that this past year.” 

A year. It had been a whole year since Jake signed those papers, and Y/N had walked out of his life. It had been a year of utter misery for the both of them, but their pride got in the way of being able to admit that. It had been a year of awkward conversations while dropping the kids off at each other’s houses. A year of avoiding each other at Dagger family events. A year of tears and aching hearts when the other mentioned going out on a date. A year of suffering because of one mistake. 

“Well, Ella is my daughter,” Jake said, sitting up in his seat, “And I am going to be here for my daughter, no matter what time it is.” 

They both agreed in the divorce to keep things as civil as they possibly could for the sake of the children. Jake didn’t fight Y/N on custody, only asking that he gets them on the weekends. Y/N still allowed Jake to come over as often as he wanted to, and he was at the house most nights. Jake hated going home to that small on-base house that was nothing compared to the beautiful craftsman they had bought together after Eli was born. Y/N let Jake stay for dinner, and help with bath time, before getting the kids to bed. It was always awkward when he’d leave for the night; both of them wanting to ask the other if they would stay. 

“I know,” Y/N swallowed, “I just. . . I don’t know.” 

The silence stretched back over them. The lobby of the emergency room was surprisingly busy for an early Tuesday morning. Drunkards were waiting to get fluids to sober up. A couple who looked like they were about to have a baby sat in the corner, the man coaxing his wife through breathing exercises. A sad looking elderly man with a deep frown etched on his face. A mother holding her child to her chest, soothing his hiccups. Y/N longed to be able to be back with Ella, but the doctors had ushered her out of the room when Ella quit breathing. 

Y/N was lost in her thoughts when a voice called out to her, “Y/N.” 

“Miles,” She stood up from her chair, “W-what’s going on? Is Ella alright?” 

“You’re my daughter’s doctor?” Jake said, eyeing Miles up and down. 

Y/N shot a glare in Jake’s direction. Now was not the time to get in a pissing match. 

“I am,” Miles said, brushing off Jake’s comment, “I was working a round in the ER when she came in. I’m also lead pediatric surgeon.” 

Rolling his eyes, Jake muttered, “Of course you are.”

“Anyway,” Miles continued, “We ran some tests on Ella, a simple blood test and then an X-Ray,” He paused for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. Y/N’s hand reached out for Jake’s on instinct, squeezing it, “Her blood test came back showing signs of abnormal cell growth, and there’s a small mass on the right lower lobe of her lung.” 

It was as if Miles had slugged Y/N in the chest. She sat down, afraid her knees were going to give out if she were still standing. The words Miles and Jake were sharing might as well have been a world away, as none of it was making sense to her. 

“How did this happen?” Y/N asked, her voice felt foreign to her as she looked up at the men, “How did I miss this?” 

“We don’t really know,” Miles said softly, “Sometimes, the body just creates abnormal cells. Lung cancer in kids looks totally different than lung cancer in adults. It’s not your fault.” 

Y/N nodded her head and looked down at her hands, “So what do we do?” 

“We’re gonna discharge her for today, and send you home with some medicine to help suppress the cough. Then we’re gonna get you set up with an oncology appointment, run some more tests and we’ll go from there.” 

“Can we see her?” Jake asked. 

“Of course,” Miles nodded his head, and told them Ella’s room number. 

Jake sat down next to Y/N, letting out a deep sigh. This was the last thing he thought was going to happen when Y/N called him at 2:30 in the morning. The only person Jake knew to have lung cancer was his grandfather, and it was a bitter end to his life. Hospitals, and oxygen masks, and not being able to do anything but lay in a bed and wait for death to come. It wasn’t what he imagined for his little girl. Not in this lifetime. 

“You never told me what happened between you and Miles?” Jake asked, looking over at Y/N. 

She let out a sigh, stretching her arms out and flexing her fingers, “Just didn’t work out.” 

Truth was, Y/N was so irrevocably in love with Jake, that being with Miles was only going to cause more harm than good. Miles had been the perfect guy; he was respectful, kind, he cared about Y/N’s kids and treated them with respect as well. He also loved her, flaws and all. And that was the issue. Miles loved Y/N more than Y/N could ever love him. It broke her heart to have to break up with him, but she couldn’t let him continue to think that something was going to happen. 

Jake hummed, “I thought you two were going to get-” 

“Can we not talk about my love life right now?” Y/N snapped, looking at her ex, “Now is not the time.” 

“I’m sorry,” Jake apologized, “She’s going to be okay, ya know?” Y/N’s eyes filled with unshed tears, “She’s strong and healthy, just like you.” 

Y/N nodded her head, “I know. It’s just not what I want for her. I hate this!” 

Jake wrapped his arm around Y/N’s shoulder and brought her into him. He hated seeing her cry and in the past year, he had seen her shed a lot of tears. Over the years, Y/N got better at stuffing her emotions down. It was hard raising kids with a husband who flew jets at supersonic speed into dangerous territories. She had to become both mentally and physically strong to withstand the months of Jake being gone and her left to raise the kids. Now, those emotions came crumbling down. 

“Let’s go back and see her, okay?” Jake asked, pressing a kiss to Y/N’s temple. She wordlessly nodded her head and Jake stood up, helping her to her feet. 

They rode the elevator in silence up to the pediatric floor where Ella was. When the doors opened they were met with bright colored green and blue walls with various animals painted on them. Children were just starting to wake up on the floor, as nurses and aids went into their rooms with colorful cups of medicine. Some parents had spent the night, sleeping on a cot next to their child’s bed, other parents were just arriving with cups of coffee and tired looks on their faces. Y/N was surprised at how warm the unit felt. That was the one thing she hated about hospitals. They always felt so cold and lonely. But the pediatric ward was filled with bright smiles, and laughter. 

Jake knocked on the door to Ella’s room, which had a painted unicorn on it, “Knock, knock,” He said, slowly opening the door. 

“Daddy!” Ella exclaimed. Jake rushed over to the bed, and hugged his little girl tightly. He wasn’t sure if it was because of her illness, but she felt smaller in his arms than she had ever felt, “I missed you.” 

“Missed you too Ella Bella,” Jake said softly, and placed a kiss on her temple, “How are you feeling?” He helped her lay back in bed, and covered her with a blanket. Y/N silently walked to the otherside of Ella’s bed as Jake sat down on the small mattress. 

“I’m tired,” Ella yawned, “Nurse Becky gave me strawberry jell-o and Auntie Val saw me when I had my pictures done!” 

“She did?” Y/N asked, trying her best to sound happy. She made a mental note to contact her best friend and tell her how thankful she was for her visit to Ella. If there was one thing about Val Machado, it was that she was going to care of her friends’ kids. Val even said once the Seresin kids were basically her kids and vice versa. 

“Yes! She gave me a unicorn sticker! Like the one on the door!” Ella held up the sticker that was on her hospital gown. 

“That’s beautiful baby,” Jake said, his green eyes full of love as he brushed his hand over her cheek. 

“Daddy,” Ella said softly, “Can I go home now?” 

“Yes Elles,” Jake nodded his head, “We’re gonna go home. You, me, and Mommy.” 

A weird feeling went through Y/N’s chest when Jake said they were all going home. She tried her best to ignore it, knowing that Jake was only saying words to comfort their daughter. When a nurse came in, Y/N and Jake excused themselves to go sign some paperwork and set up the next doctor’s appointment. They sat on opposite sides of a round table, Jake filling out insurance forms while Y/N sighed Ella’s discharge forms. 

“You shouldn’t have told her that you were coming home,” Y/N muttered. 

Jake furrowed his eyebrows, “Why? I am coming home with you guys.” 

“Jake,” Y/N sighed, setting the pen down. 

“No,” Jake answered, “I am not just gonna go back to base and pretend like everything is fine and dandy. Cause it’s not fine and dandy, Y/N. Our child is sick.”

“I know,” Y/N’s voice became thick with tears, “I know this, Jake.” 

“Then don’t push me away,” Jake sounded defeated, “Not now. Not when we need each other the most.” 

Y/N let out a shaky sigh, “I just don’t know if I can forgive you.” 

“You don’t have to,” Jake said, getting up from his chair and going over to kneel in front of his wife. He grabebd her hands in his, running his thumbs over the back of them, “You don’t have to forgive me now or ever. But you need someone to rely on and be there just as much as I need someone to rely on and be there. This isn’t going to be easy. . . but we are the only ones who will understand what we are going through. We need each other right now.” 

Y/N bit her lip and nodded her head, “Okay.” 

“Okay?” Jake asked, his eyes full of hope and longing. 

“Okay,” Y/N said again, sniffling, “Let’s go take our baby home.”

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[drluvsick]

𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐒 — 𝐠𝐢𝐲𝐮 𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐨𝐤𝐚

a person who’s lost those close to him and a person with trust issues— two close friends put on a mission together where a nightmare draws your relationship closer. 📝 gn! reader. you have a nightmare and giyuu comforts you, basically. just some mild hurt to comfort with a lotta fluff <3

word count : 1.1k

giyuu tomioka. the one who thought so poorly of himself. the one who’s blocked everyone from his heart. safeguarding it. just so that he’d never have to experience the pain of losing those he loved again. locking it from everyone, except for you.

if there was someone he’d want to stay with for eternity, it’d be you.

on the other hand, you had issues from your past. the betrayals. the backstabbing. your trust in people had deteriorated across the years, until you met him.

he was never too vocal, and he never tried to initiate anything with you in the start. but something about the other’s personalities made the both of you gradually gravitate towards each other, eventually accepting the person like the click of a magnet once they’re attached.

he let you into his heart, and you trusted him with yours.

but one day, after a mission that you had been assigned to with him, things changed.

it was nighttime. the demon had been dealt with, but you and giyuu were instructed to stay in the village for a few days to monitor the people who had been infected by the demon’s blood art just in case any side effects called for your attention.

apparently, your room had already been chosen by master ubuyashiki himself— a two beds one room to share with giyuu. you were secretly looking forward to it, and unbeknownst to you, so was he; although he didn’t fully recognize it as a fact at the time.

maybe it was because he knew about your frequent nightmares. maybe his intuition called for someone you trusted to help you through them. either way, it was happening.

you did your nightly rituals (as did giyuu), conversed with him a bit, and then retreated to your bed to sleep.

sleep, which really meant participate in a lucid dream distorted to remind you of everything over and over again.

“good night, giyuu!” you called over your shoulder; facing the wall as to not creep him out.

“good night to you as well,” you heard him shuffling a bit before he faced the other wall himself, thinking that it’d probably make you uncomfortable if he just stared at your back as he was drifting to sleep.

and then once you nodded off, it begun.

you woke up abruptly, hyperventilating and forcing back your tears. you were not going to cry while he was in the room.

“(y/n)?… ” giyuu mumbled, turning to face you after a few seconds of adjusting to waking up. “are you… oh.” he immediately sat up and went over to your side, the futon dipping as his weight dropped onto it. the single tear that fell down your face alone made his heart ache.

“s-sorry. i didn’t mean to wake you up.” you quickly wiped it away, trying desperately to control your breathing.

“it’s okay,” he responded, “bad dreams, i’m guessing?” he inched a little closer to you before you nodded.

“… is it okay if i hold you?” he asked, uncertain, but determined to make you feel better. he recalled tengen pulling one of his wives in to comfort her after she’d made some sort of mistake and she started bawling. maybe him hugging you would have the same effect as tengen had on his wife.

you allowed it, gratefully putting your arms around his shoulders— a small shudder running down your spine at the warmth he provided that contrasted against the cold and dull aftermath the nightmare had left you.

“i’m sorry, i’m so sorry—” you’d said as the dam broke, tears beginning to wash down your face. you haven’t cried like this in so long— feeling the comfort of someone near you as the feelings of not being enough or loved racked through your body, the thoughts of both fighting each other as giyuu rubbed your back through it all.

you didn’t usually cry after your usual nightmares. not after you’d experienced them enough to get used to them. but this was different.

because giyuu had been in it. brutally murdered as you stood from afar, watching the scene without being able to move. the agony, the pain, the fear— as what happened so many years ago.

he called your name, so broken that you wished to just take the onslaught yourself if it meant that you’d die in his arms, looking into those eyes or succumbing to the end as he’d vainly try to alleviate the situation.

but he was here, with you. he was whispering small words of encouragement, letting you pour yourself out to him as you held onto him for dear life.

“it’s okay, it’s okay. it’s going to be alright…”

you had said no to wanting to talk about the dream, shaking your head back and forth as you recognized that if you were to tell him, you might accidentally spill your true feelings to him.

you couldn’t lose this thing you had with giyuu. not after everything, not over some silly confession.

soon, your heavy breathing slowed down as the tears ceased. you got a tissue as you turned away from him and cleaned yourself up, opting to clean your hands before going back to face him again.

and once you did, he welcomed you back with open arms. “it’s still pretty late… do you want to head back to sleep?” his voice was so soft in your ear, a melody that lulled you closer to wanting to go back to bed. but you were reminded of why you were awake again in the first place.

“i don’t want to— not with… well… the nightmares.” his neck was so warm…

“i… could sleep holding you like this, if you’d like? i don’t think it’ll help, but… ” giyuu immediately wanted to sink into the earth at that moment, why did he say that?

“i’m definitely okay with that.”

“are you sure?”

“plenty.”

moments like these are ones that you can’t capture by memory alone, not the feeling and not the experience.

not the way he hugged you under the covers as you held onto him, both sides feeling that warm fuzzy feeling in your hearts. not the way his head was positioned on yours as he shielded you, making you feel protected from the world. and definitely not the way he held you tighter and closer, whispering a small, “i love you,” which could’ve easily been mistaken for your own imagination.

but you heard it and murmured a small “i love you, too.” back.

in the end, things definitely changed. and for once in quite a while, your dreams were filled with nothing but happiness and hope for a better future.

“i… you WHAT.” you gaped in disbelief.

tanjiro apologized over and over. “i'm sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry! i just— he asked! and i couldn’t lie to him because he has these senses and i knew you liked him and—!!”

as he rambled on and on, you looked over at giyuu. “so you knew, and you waited that long to tell me??”

“i wanted to wait for the right moment, that’s all.”

“like…?”

“the day we first had a conversation together.”

“…forgiven.” 😍😍😍

overluvsick | please do not repost, translate, and/or claim my works as yours !!

[narcjsistx]

hii! I'm new to this platform and I haven't fully understood how it works yet... also, english is not my first language. but here are some headcanons <3

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

— Rindou Haitani in a relationship HCS ᡣ𐭩

I don't know why, but I think he's a person who isn't jealous of you, or at least not excessively. Not that it forbids you from doing anything without him, no, I don't see him doing it like that. Jealous maybe when there's a need, like when someone gets a little too clingy and thinks you're not taken (or already married, in rindou's mind)

You two rarely argue because I believe he is someone who goes out of his way to turn arguments into a simple squabble

He likes to show you off, especially with Ran. Always hidden in the idea of being weaker because he is younger than Ran, he took personal revenge when he had a girlfriend before his brother

He prefers not to tell you about the way he fights. Famous for breaking limbs, he is afraid that if you ever knew you would leave him for fear

He doesn't trust leaving you with Ran, he's afraid he might show you photos of him as a child or when he was just a little delinquent and wore a rather questionable haircut. It would embarrass him

He loves those online games for couples. After we were together for a year, he bought you a console to play with him. Being with him, you learned how a controller worked when playing video games. He loves the evenings you two spend on call playing some game made for two

He's afraid of your father. Not for anything in particular, they met and your father even said he trusts him, but the concept that HE is YOUR FATHER, puts him in awe. He adores your mother but couldn't spend more than a few minutes in a room with him without screaming (and let's remember, he rules Roppongi. What a pitiful scene...

If you two are together for more than a year, you are automatically his future wife. He thinks it takes a lot of patience to be with him, so if you've been together this long without ever breaking up, he thinks you're the one. So, why not get married in 10 years and keep it you all to himself?

Not a big fan of going out unless organized AT LEAST a week before. He prefers to stay on the sofa, perhaps hugging each other, watching some film he adores

I think he's someone who doesn't exactly know how to comfort when you cry. He knows he has to do certain things, maybe hug you or say something sweet, but he thinks that doing so would annoy you. But he, at least, tries to help when happen

[itsangelll]

𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮. ✰

A/n:hey cuties finally a fic out after a month 😭 this is a collab with @tomssexdoll I think we absolutely did amazing she’s a fabulous writer!! I hope you guys enjoy <33

parings: 2011 Mafia Bill x Freader

genre:angst to smut to fluff?

MDNI

warnings:A LOT of swearing p in v dom!bill sub!freader a bit of abuse please please do not read if your uncomfortable or sensitive with these topics!!

You and bill were forced to get married, the promise of your businesses improving if we did. You guys obviously agreed to this wanting to make as much money and more deals if you could.

You and bill had a lot of sex mainly during a middle of an argument, you were both very stubborn and immature, not willing to accept yours and his mistakes. You both had your good moments together not everything was terrible with him, sometimes he’d hold you and tell me how much he loved you, but his actions would be speak a lot more than words. Most nights Bill would be gone coming home at midnight or even later, lying to you constantly the question that always lingered in the back of your mind was that did he really love you or was he just using you?

You both had multiple fights a week some even becoming more abusive than usual, one got so bad he almost succeeded at throwing a chair at your head. You guys hated being like that towards each other but you couldn’t help it. It was way too stressful and overwhelming of being one of the top mafia couples in the world.

Bill came home late one night again saying goodbye to all his buddies as they sped off, he fiddled with the door before swinging it open and slamming it shut, You were in the lounge, it was pitch black having a cigarette lit your legs crossed, you felt like scaring him making him mad anything at all.

As he went to walk up the stairs you startled him with your voice, “And where the fuck where you exactly.” “Jesus Christ don’t scare me like that why are you in the dark for?” he grumbled before turning on a light noticing your red puffy eyes.

“Have..have you been crying?” he scoffed “As a matter of fact I have did you know how fucking worried I was about you what if you got shot?” You raised your voice after talking a long drag from your burning cigarette.

“Fuck sake like you’d care wether if I was dead or alive, can’t I have my fucking fun? I’ve been stuck here for a week with you for work” he went over to the liquor cabinet taking out his aged whiskey and sitting in his chair pouring the burnt umber drink into the glass.

“You’re a fucking asshole you know that right?” You glared at him your jaw slightly clenched “trust me I know” he lit a cigarette as well “you tell me everyday just as I tell you that you’re a whiny bitch all the time.” he gave you a sarcastic smile rolling his eyes and taking a huge sip from his whiskey.

“I can’t believe you just go out, stay out till 5 in the morning and I get no fucking call at all, you expect me to greet you with cookies and milk but yet you still think I’m a shit wife your the fucking, pathetic one here.” You shouted, “don’t yell at me you drive me up the wall here” Bill yelled back getting up from his chair and storming over to me, he grabbed your wrist with so much force pulling you up towering over you.

“oh you think you scare me? Nice try.” I snatched my wrist away, blowing the smoke in his face, Bill just stood there his gaze burning into mine a certain rage taking over him.

“You are so controlling can’t a grown man do what he wants when he wants?.” He huffed his chest heaving up and down in anger Bill was gonna snap at any moment. “I’m the controlling one here?! Aren’t you the one who gets mad at me for looking in another guys direction, you beat up any man I talk to refuse to let me go out when I’m apparently wearing something too “short” but yes bill I’m the controlling one you fucking hypocrite.” You scoffed shaking your head.

“At least I have good reasons, you’re the one getting upset over me being out late suck it up doll.” he spat his words cruel, “You just don’t get it do you? It’s not the fact that you’re out late I don’t give a shit do what you want, It’s the fact that I never got told where you are, I’m sitting here late at night wondering where you are and if I should call the police or not, I’m really fucking sorry for worrying about you is that so bad?” Your voice still raised anger coursing through your veins.

“You make me so fucking mad..” he grunted walking closer towards you narrowing his eyes at you. “Cry me a river,you’re a grown man aren’t you? Learn how to deal with your emotions properly.” You rolled your eyes, Bill grabbed your hair pulling you close “don’t fucking speak to me that way!!” he yelled inches away from your face.

You pushed him off slapping him harshly across the face leaving a bright red hand mark. “Don’t you ever fucking touch me like that” you screamed, “You know what I could kill you right now.” He yelled back rage in his voice.

“Shoot me then fucking shoot me.” I yelled my voice starting to strain. you and bill just stood there silent for a second both of your chests heaving up and down.

Without another word bill grabbed you by your waist and kissed you passionately his tongue entering your mouth searching for dominance, “Your so fucking whiny aren’t you” he muttered between kisses, his hand roughly slapping your ass you couldn’t help but moan. He pulled away from the kiss a string of salvia parting from your mouth, Grabbing your hand and taking you upstairs he had a pretty strong grip you almost couldn’t keep up.

When you guys made it to your room he threw you on the bed towering over you his dark brown orbs filled with such lust, wasting no time he ripped off your shirt then your jeans leaving you in nothing but your black lace set of lingerie. Bill groaned at the sight a large tent forming in his pants, “You’re so pretty f’me Schatzi” he said in a raspy voice, your breath hitched your core getting even more wet. Even though sometimes Bill was a complete prick you couldn’t help the affect he had on you.

He unclasped your bra and ripped off your underwear, your nipples and your wet cunt getting exposed to the cool air a shiver went down your spine running his fingers over your breasts. You whined “Don’t be a tease Billy this isn’t fair” he smirked and lifted your chin up “Does my doll want me fuck her dumb hm? Is that what you want?” His knee was rubbing your clit non stop, you could burst any second nodding desperately Bill without any hesitation removed his belt in one swift move, his jeans and boxers pool at his ankles letting his cock spring free.

Even though how many time you guys have fucked you could never get over how big he was. Bill swiped a finger at your folds his finger now coated with your arousal “I haven’t even done anything yet and your already wet for me doll you’re just that desperate aren’t you?” You couldn’t answer, He snickered without another warning he slammed into you then pulling back out fully before filling you up once again. You moaned loudly the way his cock fit your pussy was amazing, His hands made their way down to your waist gripping tightly bound to leave marks tomorrow. “Fuck Jesus you feel s’good around my cock love gonna fill this slutty hole with my cum” he groaned out.

Bill moved at a rapid pace his tip kissing your cervix perfectly moans were spilling out of you uncontrollably, you were in pure ecstasy, your walls clenched around him every time he hit that gummy spot the knot in your stomach growing tighter with each passing second “Mm Bill fuck fuck I’m close!” you breathed out he moved his hand down to your clit rubbing his thumb in fast circles, “Cum on this cock for me doll” he whispered you were about to break.

Those words were all you needed to hear, your legs shaking bringing you over the brink you screamed out his name cumming all over his cock, “Fuck baby that’s it” Bill let out a low growl before shooting his cum inside you thank god you were on the pill. He collapsed on top of you, lifting his head up and pressing a kiss to your temple, “You okay my sweet girl? Did I go to rough?” he said in worry, you smiled “Yes billy I’m okay it was amazing” you replied.

“I’m sorry about the fight earlier Liebe you just mean to much to me and I can’t lose you ever I don’t know what I’d do” you were in awe “Billy you aren’t ever going to lose me I promise you that” you took his hand in yours and kissed him passionately you really did love him.

A/n:I hope you guys enjoyed! Me and @tomssexdoll worked really really hard on this, she did an amazing job. but I’m glad I’m writing again, I’m gonna try and write more mwah bye cuties <33

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@itsmealaiah

@noellethinks

@jadedchar

@madzandmore

@memzyyy

@tomssexdoll

[dragon-kazansky]

Dragon's Lair

Spirit of the sea

You were a member of Blackbeard's crew long ago. Then you became a ghost story. Izzy Hands only sees you in his dreams these days, until he sees you for real when investigating Stede Bonnet. This sets him on a rollercoaster of emotions between you and what his captain is doing.

Captain Hands

Izzy is captain of The Revenge. You're his first mate. Your intention is to take down the man that tried to take away your Izzy. In the meantime, you get up to all kinds of shenanigans along the way.

Symphony of dreams

You are his lover. When Morpheus was captured, you fell into the deep sleep. He has no idea until he returns to his realm where Lucienne tells him what happened. Unable to help you until he gets his tools back, he is more determined than ever to get his full power back.

Veil of the dreamless

A cursed Morpheus holds your father prisoner when he enters The Dreaming without permission. You, also able to enter the realm, take his place. Now a prionser to the Dream Lord, you do all you can to learn about the curse and hopefully break it.

When the raven calls

You, his raven, die protecting Jessamy while rescuing the Dream Lord. When Morpheus returns to his realm, he mourns your loss, only to find a stranger waiting for him in his throne room. The stranger claims to be you, now in human form. He doesn't understand, but his raven will always watch over him.

Heart of the Dreaming

You are the daughter of Rodrick Burgess. You find out about the "demon" in the basement and decide you want to see it. Things take an unexpected turn when your soulmate connection is made with the man you find down there. You are the one he has been waiting for, and you're being taken away from. Not for long. Dream will protect his soulmate.

The song in our hearts

A musician with a heart that sings and an admirer who wishes to see his songbird thrive. Two beings in different worlds get caught up in each other when someone threatens to steal his songbird's spotlight. Loving Lestat isn't simple, and your life will never be the same again. What is eternity without chaos?

Spell on you

Bridgerton shade of blue

Season One - Benedict bumps into you, quite literally, at a ball while trying to escape his mother's attempts to find him a partner. You decide to humour him with a dance, not realising just how entwined you would become with him. It seems the universe will find every excuse to push you and Benedict together, no matter how much you fight it.

Bridgerton shade of blue

Season Two - The Viscount is set on finding a wife this season, and you are trying again for your second season. While Anthony is dealing with trials between Edwina and Kate Sharma, you are dealing with trials of your own. Benedict Bridgerton is ever present in your life, but your pursuit to find a husband must come first. Society is ever so exhausting.

Head in the clouds

The past was supposed to stay in the past, but with Goose and Maverick getting into Top Gun, it would seem that it’s repeating itself. No matter what you do, you can never escape Tom Kazansky. 

[bullet-prooflove]

One Night Stand - Richie Jerimovich x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @rita-lean @yousigned-upforthis @factualfic @ayeeeee-ayeeeeeeeeeeee

Companion piece to: All The Good Ones Are

Richie isn’t looking to meet someone.

He’s in the midst of a horrible divorce, his wife doesn’t love him anymore, his daughter is in pieces and he’s just trying to get through the fucking day without murdering one of the shitheads he works with when the woman next to him outside The Buzzard asks him for a light.

It’s as he leans in close, using the end of his cigarette to ignite yours that he realises just how beautiful you are.

“Let me buy you a drink in return for the light.” You say as he’s finishing up his smoke and Richie, he can’t help but oblige.

You spend the evening propping up the bar, he tells you his Bill Murray story and you spend the next couple of hours listening and then relistening to his voicemail trying to decipher if it is Bill Murray of if Richie is just a really good impressionist.

The jury is still out when you take him home that night. The two of you step outside the bar after last call and he’s just about to light another cigarette when you rise up on tiptoes and kiss him. He doesn’t expect it because he’s just spent the past couple of hours explaining how much of a mess he is.

“Who isn’t?” You respond, your fingertips ghosting along the collar of his jacket. “You think I’ve got all my shit together?”

No, he knows you don’t because he’s not the only one going through a divorce, he’s not the only one that feels unwanted.

It’s meant to be a quick fuck, something to provide a little relief against that horrible crushing feeling in his chest but it turns into something more because you, you just have this way about you.

For Richie, there’s always been a desperation in the act. He craves intimacy, a sense of connection but he never gets it, especially not  in the final days of his marriage. It was always raw, always angry, Tiffany would get up as soon as she was done, retreat to the bathroom, leaving him spent in the sheets wondering what the fuck he’d done wrong now.

It isn’t like that with you. It’s light-hearted, filled with smiles and laugher as the two of undress each other. Instead of wham, bam, thank you Richie, it becomes an exploration. Gentle lingering touches that chase over every part of his body, and heated lips that have him gripping the sheets in his fists.

“You’re not used to being taken care of.” You murmur as you straddle his lap. His skin’s flushed, his dick leaking and already he’s looking at you like he’s just seen God.

“No I’m not.” He admits, burying his face into the hollow of your throat as you sink down onto him inch by inch.

There is nothing in this world that rivals the sensation of being inside of you. It’s not just how fucking good your cunt feels wrapped around him, it’s everything. The eye contact as you fuck him, the way you cling to him when he hits that sweet spot, the one that drives you absolutely crazy. He wants to stay like this forever, locked in this perfect moment but then you start to tighten around him and Richie, he’s fighting a losing battle because you can’t stop the rising tide.

You come together, his release spilling into you as you cry out his name and it’s the prettiest sound he’s ever heard.  

“I’ll go in a minute.” He promises you as he collapses back into your sheets, still tangled up in you. “I just need to catch my breath.”

“There’s no rush.” You tell him, your lips brushing over the space where his heart resides.

He doesn’t intend to stay the night, he just feels so relaxed and you feel so perfect tucked against him, your face buried into the curve of his neck. He falls asleep, feeling wanted, feeling safe.

He’s late to work the next morning. You’d had him again in the shower before you left for work and Richie’s still riding the high when he steps through the door of The Beef wearing a smile and yesterday’s clothes.

“You’ve met someone.” Tina says as she chops potatoes at her station and he can’t keep the blush from creeping up his cheeks. “It looks good on you.”

“Maybe.” He says, his palm rubbing over the back of his neck. “It’s early days.”

He texts you when he gets off shift that night. He’s spend the whole day trying to come up with the perfect message and he keeps fucking it up so he goes for the direct approach.

What are you doing tonight? He asks, lingering outside The Beef as he awaits your reply.

You hopefully. You respond and he laughs because this thing between the two of you, he already knows it’s going to go the distance.

Love Richie? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[eras-mus]

hii ive had this idea for a while now and its basiclly a crossover with twst and monster high, it could be a clawdeen yuu or a operetta yuu or or a cleo yuu headcannons. but theres this other idea wity SIX the musical im not sure if youve seen it but you could do any of the wifes of your choosing but i would think it would be good if they were all platonic (especially with k howard)

I'm sorry but I'm not comfortable with doing the SIX Wives because they are based on real people!

I will do your Clawdeen, Cleo, and Operetta Yuu though!

-GN Reader

-Reader IS Yuu

Sorry it's short!

-

Clawdeen! Yuu

- Everyone first thinks that Y/n is related to Jack, and both of them have to constantly correct people on that.

- Y/n is unbelievably good at keeping Ace and Deuce in control because of their siblings in their world

- They probably redesigned their uniform and made a new outfit for every unbirthday party

- As much as they get along with Vil their best friend is Epel. Y/n understands why Epel doesn't want to learn useless manners and dress impractically and Y/n is able to help him make clothes he likes and that Vil approves of

- Vargas loves that they aren't afraid of playing hard and would put them in the spell drive team if they had magic

- Y/n probably spends a lot of their time at the Savanna Claw Dorm, helping Ruggie, working out with Jack, and talking (bickering) with Leona

Cleo! Yuu

- The change of being in Twisted Wonderland was pretty hard for Y/n, not having their daddy's money and not having any respect like they did in their old world, but it didn't take long for the students of Night Raven to fear them.

- They easily became Crewels favorite, from their sense in fashion to the kindness that they only had for their friends. However, Crewel tends to get frustrated when they turn into a complete diva.

- As soon as they met Vil the two were inseparable. They did skin care together, shopped for new clothes (paid for by Vil), and even started vlogging on Magi-Cam.

-Speaking of Magi-Cam, they grew a following on their rather fast, partly thanks to Vil and partly because people were so interested in Y/n being a mummy

-Half way through the year Y/n was running the school and helping overblotted students without breaking a sweat.

-The Ramshackle dorm had never looked so extravagant, Y/n had to get it redone because it wasn't fit to their standards. (Honestly they probably broke down when they first found out they were staying there)

-A couple of students confessed their love to Y/n but they turned down each one because they were so loyal to their significant other in their original world

Operetta! Yuu

- Y/n loved the Ramshackle dorm, it reminded them of the catacombs of their old school, they were able to restore the building and kept a lot of the original features

- They play music at Mostro Lounge for extra money, because of this Azul and them are relatively close, if Y/n has any information on a student they don't like then they tell Azul

- During book two Y/n was able to shut the Savanna Claw students up so fast

- When Epel starts speaking in his southern accent, Y/n is the only one who can understand him and normally has to help translate

- Speaking of Epel, Y/n and him will play sports together and Y/n might teach him how to fight

- Vargas loves how competitive they are and finds it amusing to watch the magicless students beat up his spell drive team

- They're definitely Teirns favorite mainly because of their accent

[the-froschamethyst4]

Playing in the rain

𖤐Pairing: Father! Price x Mother! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: fluff, language, good father Price, daddies girl, kissing, married couple, children, kissing, parents flirting,

𖤐Summary: It's raining in Manchester and Iris wants to go play outside

————

————

Iris stayed home from school today, the roads were closed due to flooding and some buses couldn’t get to students to pick them up.

Iris watched as the water droplets fall on the window and run down them like they were racing each other. Her mother Y/n was in the kitchen fixing Iris a grilled cheese as she also was holding baby Beau to her chest as she fixed lunch.

“Iris baby, do you want soup?”

“No. Just the grilled cheese,” Iris says, still looking out the window.

Y/n looks up and sees her daughter watching the rain. Y/n remembers a time where she use to enjoy the rain.

“Iris, why don’t you get changed into some better clothes and go grab your raincoat and boots?”

“Okay, mama,” Iris gets off the little seat next to the window and heads upstairs to her bedroom to change like her mother had asked her to.

Y/n places the freshly made grilled cheese on a plate and pushed it on the counter to where she knows Iris will sit. And right on time, Iris comes down raincoat and boots in hand and she climbs on the stool to eat.

“When you get eating I’ll help you put everything on, and we can head outside.”

“Okay!” She sounded excited. “Mama, will you joy me on playing in the rain?”

“I wish I could baby, but I have to keep Beau with me and so I also make sure he doesn’t get sick, but I think daddy is coming home soon, maybe he’ll join?”

Iris just smiles at the mention of Price coming home.

As Iris was eating, her mom eating as well and trying to make sure Beau was still asleep, Iris would tell her mom about random things that happened at school.

Like a kid starting a food fight and milk landed on her.

Or the time where the teacher yelled at everyone for no reason.

And the time where Price ended up picking Iris up a bit early to have lunch together.

Y/n knew the first two were just fake, she wanted to make her school life seem a bit interesting but the last one, may be true. Y/n has even gotten phone calls about Iris's school for not showing up to school when Price would have to drop her off at school. And comes to find out Price thought maybe him and Iris should do father-daughter days.

Even before Beau was born. Nowadays, Iris is attached to Price and Beau is attached to Y/n.

Y/n bent down helping Iris put her jacket on and making sure Iris put the right boots on the correct foot. Once Y/n opened the front door Iris darted out and started to splash in puddles as Y/n was under the awning watching her daughter play.

She splashes and kicks the water up, she then sees mud at the edge of the driveway and puts her hands in it, squeezing the mud between her small fingers and laughing before finding a big puddle to clean her hands off the best she could.

Soon a black chevy impala pulls into the driveway, Iris immediately knew who it was and ran to the driver side door when the impala stops.

The door opens and Iris is greeted with a deep thick accent. She's then picked up by her father, he kisses her cheek and set her back on the concrete.

"What are you doing at out? It's raining," Price says, bending down to Iris's level, he was letting himself get wet just to listen to his daughter.

"It looked like fun to play in the rain, and mama said we could come outside," Iris tells her daddy.

Price looks at his wife standing under the little roof above the porch as she smiles and gently pats Beau's back.

"I see, why don't I join my baby girl?" Price says as he removes his gear but was left in his tight dark green shirt, his famous bucket hat, his camo pants and boots.

He watches as Iris jumps in puddles and splashes Price, he does the same but make sure it's not a lot to completely cover her cold water. Price then picks up Iris and he tilts his head back catching water in his mouth and Iris follows his lead.

Y/n smiles at her husband and daughter. "Alright I hate to ruin the fun, but why don't you both come in and warm up before you both could catch a cold," she says as Price smiles and walks under the roof and kissed Y/n's lips as they all walked into the house together.

----------

Y/n rubbed a towel on Price's head as he lets out a loud dad sneeze. Scaring Y/n but also making her laugh.

"You sneeze so loud."

"I can't help it," he sounded stuffed up.

"You're sick aren't you?"

"Must've been the rain," he sneezes.

"Well, you didn't have anything protecting you from the rain like Iris and she's not even sick."

"True, true," he sniffles and Y/n sits next to him on the bed.

"You're a good father."

"And you're the best mother." Price leans in and kisses Y/n's lips.

"And you probably just got me sick as well," Y/n says with a smile.

"That's fine, then I get to take care of you, like you do with me," Price smirks.

"Do you two always kiss each other?" Iris's small voice was heard from their shared bedroom doorway.

"Get to bed, young lady," Price says. Iris takes off down the hall giggling making Y/n and Price laugh. "Yes, I do kiss you whenever I want to."

"You are such a flirt," she pushes his face away.

"Only for you," his arm wraps around her waist pulling her close to his chest. Iris came back and looked at her parents, Y/n on her husband's lap as they were talking, Y/n spoke about early today and Price looked at her like he could listen to her for HOURS.

Iris knows her parents love each other very much, Price felt like someone was watching him and his wife, he looks passed Y/n for a few seconds and saw Iris. He motions for her to 'come here' which she follows and crawls on the bed with her parents.

Price pulls her into his side as Y/n moves some of Iris's hair from her face as Y/n was still talking.

-----------

It was around eleven at night and Price was still up watching some of the Bluey cartoon, Y/n was asleep her head resting on Price's chest, her arm draped over his stomach as Iris was asleep cuddled up to his arm. He hasn't moved for 3 hours.

Which is also the reason he can't sleep, he doesn't want to wake his girls up and has to deal with two grumpy girls on his hands, he knows that lesson, and is probably the only trait Iris has picked up from her mother. Don't bother sleeping women, they want their rest.

Price yawns closing his eyes but his eyes shot open feeling Y/n move around thinking it might have been his doing, he bites his bottom lip and watches her just roll over on her side facing away from Price.

Price let's out a soft sigh before turning to look at Iris his eyes met with Iris's blue eyes.

"Iris."

"Daddy...why aren't you asleep?"

"I just can't."

"Do you want some milk?"

"Milk?"

"Yeah, mama gives me milk if I can't sleep."

"I guess," Price yawns, Iris gets off the bed and Price gently moves his arm from his wife's grasp and followed Iris to the kitchen. He pulls the fridges door open as Iris climbed on the counter to get a glass which Price ended up getting her off the counter and putting her on the floor and poured his own glass of milk and then giving the gallon to Iris and helped her pour her own glass.

They both stayed in the kitchen for some times now before heading back upstairs. Price checked on Beau and he seemed happy as ever, and follows Iris to her bedroom tucking her into bed and kissing her temple.

"Daddy."

"Yes?"

"Can you tell me a story?"

"Okay...like what, baby?"

"Like...how you and mama met?"

"Didn't I already tell you that story?"

"Maybe...but I wanna hear it again," she smiles up at him.

"Okay, okay, I'll tell you it."

Y/n woke up to an empty bed, no husband and no daughter. She yawns and rubs her eyes before removing the covers off her body and heading down the hall where she could hear John's deep thick accent voice.

She stops and leans against the wall just outside of Iris's bedroom listening in. Then she realized he's telling Iris the first time her and Price met. Her heart clenches when Iris was asking questions about if he thought it was love at first sight?

"Yeah...I think so," Price says with a smile. "If it wasn't love you and Beau wouldn't be here with us, enjoying life together."

"Would Beau and I be with different parents?" Price didn't know how to answer that.

"Umm~ y-yeah," he stutters. "Anyways...good night baby," he kisses her forehead.

"Good night, daddy." Price turns off her lamp and gently shuts the door and saw Y/n. "Jesus! I'm going to put a bell on you," he says holding his chest like he was going to have a heart attack.

"That can be arranged," she grabs his shirt leading him back to he bedroom.

"Oh fuck."