#I love you for this fic and will always cherish it and protect in my heart | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

etherealyoungk · 2 months

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— ✦ sugar & spice | jeon wonwoo

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

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

THEMES: bodyguard au, mutual pining, slow burn

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

WORDCOUNT: 29.2k

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

full fic under the cut

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“y-yeah im okay”, you tell quickly.

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

“i can manage”, you say.

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

“what’s decided?”, you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“oh, i see”, you tell softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“the decision is final”, your principal tells.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“right, i see”.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“it’s good to be back”, you tell.

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

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

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

“thank you”, you tell, grateful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“her name is oreo”, he tells.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“black”, he says.

and of course he likes his coffee black.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“but where were you?”, you counter.

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

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

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

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

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

“yn, it’s late”, he tells sternly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“what’s wrong?”, wonwoo asks, alert.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“on what occasion?”, he asks.

“because you lost the bet”, you state.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“so?”, you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

i can see you

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

looking for me?

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

did i scare you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“it’s okay, i can stay”, he says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“did you see her?”, one of them says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“hi”, you say softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“what do you mean?”, you prompt.

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

“what if i’m not ready”, you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“where’s wonwoo”, you ask again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“yn we are not going there”

“just tell me, please”

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

“that’s all he said?”, you ask.

“yes”, and suddenly all your hopes sink.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“it’s jeonghan” wonwoo says softly.

“shit, what do we do?”

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

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

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

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

“how should i know”, wonwoo says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“yes your honour”, your lawyer fills in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"audio?", you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-at court-

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

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

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

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

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

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

“yes, can i know who this is?”

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

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

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

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

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

“what happened?”, you ask softly.

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

“shit”, you say.

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

“hey, hey look at me”, wonwoo says.

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

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

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

-final hearing-

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

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

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

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

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

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

“how do you feel yn?”

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

“please share a few words”

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

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

-epilogue-

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

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

“what is it love?”, he asks.

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

“do what?”, he asks calmly.

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

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

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

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

“i beg to differ”, he says calmly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“shut up”, you tell, giggling.

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

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

“why not”, you ask, playing along.

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

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

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

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

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

the end

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ja3yun · 2 months

Text

Melting Point | P.SH | Ch.3

brother's rival!sunghoon x fem!reader warnings: angst, smut (mdni), oral (f. rec), protected sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, cum eating, it's the dirtiest smut I've written, sexual harassment**, violence, mentions of blood, anything else lmk! ch.3 synopsis: to get sunghoon off your mind, your friends suggest tagging along to a party, but things don't go as planned and you're driven closer to sunghoon than ever before. wc: 16.8k previous | masterlist | next a/n: hi! i have decided to give you this all early since i finished the editing early. it's actually my birthday tomorrow so i won't have time to finalise it, please take this as my gift to you! thank you for the love on the last few chapters, it means so much that you are enjoying it, and as always, comments, likes, and feedback are always appreciated! **the sexual harassment scene is small but as it can make people uncomfortable, i have put <*> before and after the scene! (this is also the only scene in the whole fic like this just fyi!) yn explains what happened with little detail later on so you won't miss anything by skipping it!

For the past week, you've been engulfed in misery. It's as though you're trapped in a downward spiral, confined to your bed while your hair tangles into knots.

A massive part of your despair was the aching in your chest from pondering what could have been, the unknown of if you ended something that could have bloomed into something wonderful. You had never felt like this before, not through any of your situationships or even that one failed relationship when you were 16 and thought they were the one.

Adding to your distress is the burden of deceiving your brother about the situation. Minhee came to check in on you every day to make sure you were okay. Of course, you didn’t tell him you were going through emotional turmoil, simply portraying the act of a sickly Victorian child who was too poor to leave the bed. He bought it at the beginning but now you can see him starting to question your sneeze’s authenticity.

Still, he was there looking after you, bringing you your favourite Lucozade and going all away across town for that vegetable soup you loved. Why did he have to be so nice?

Currently, your room has been infiltrated by Allen and Rina. You haven’t messaged them or attended Uni since last Thursday and Rina being the overdramatic friend she is, came barging into your room, wearing all black to ‘mourn the time lost between you’. She wasn’t exactly enthralled by your reasoning for the lack of communication.

"So you're telling me," she exclaimed, flinging herself onto your bed, "that you, my best, most cherished friend, couldn't even bother to message me because of some guy?" her words hit you like a slap, "And not just any guy, but one you've barely spent, what, nine hours with?"

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment as her words ring true; you have been wallowing over someone you hardly know, "So what if you slept with him? He's just a man, Y/N. Men are easily replaceable!" Allen shoots his girlfriend a sceptical glance, but she disregards him entirely.

You can't argue with her logic; you know how absurd it must sound to everyone else, "It's not just him, Rina," you murmur, feeling the weight of your emotions pressing down on you, "it's Minhee too."

"Minhee's always been protective of you, especially when it comes to your flings," Rina interjects, her tone softened slightly, "Allen, back me up on this." Her boyfriend hesitates for a moment before reluctantly nodding in agreement, "She has got a point, Y/N," he admits, shrugging apologetically.

Burying your head into your hands you groan loudly, almost verging on a scream, “You guys didn’t see him when he thought I only got a lift from him, he was all like ‘If you two are dating I’ll tear him limb from limb’ it was so scary,” you recount the scene from last week with Minhee, though judging by their reactions, you realize you're failing to convey just how serious he appeared, "He sees Sunghoon as his arch-nemesis! And I slept with him! And I want to do it again!"

“Y/N, babe, it is not that fucking serious he isn’t Batman and Sunghoon isn’t Penguin.”

"Wait, isn't Batman's arch-rival the Joker?" Allen interjects, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Allen, really? Now's not the time for comic book trivia," Rina scolds, shaking her head. "But my point remains," she continues, sitting up and clasping your hands in hers, "I promise you, Minhee won't lose it just because you're involved with Sunghoon." You're at a loss for words, partly because she makes a valid point about Minhee's dramatic tendencies, and if Rina is calling you out for being dramatic, you know it must be true.

Allen walks over to you and sits on the floor beside your bed, placing a hand on your knee “I think the best thing for you, Y/N, is just to leave it. Don’t get involved between them, just-”

“Find someone else!” Rina shouts, pouncing up like a tiger ready to attack, “Baby, you’re a genius! Y/N, we need to find you some at the party tonight!” As quick as a flash, she’s in your wardrobe looking for an outfit, flinging stuff behind her to clear her view, “You need something so diabolically sexy it’ll have every man’s dick standing to attention.” Your best friend always had a way of describing things.

Looking down at Allen you see his sorry expression but you don’t mind, Rina has always been like this since you were little, always full of life and vibrant. She has been your best friend since she asked you to eat a worm in primary 2 to enter her secret club, one eaten worm, and a trip to the medical room because you vomited said worm right back up later, you were inseparable. You weren’t a quiet person but with her around you might as well have been a mouse next to a lion, and you loved her for it.

"What party?" you inquire, looking at the chaos in your room that you'll inevitably have to clean up later. "I haven't heard of any parties happening on campus tonight." Being Rina's best friend definitely had its perks, as her popularity ensured invitations to every cliche social event.

"There's a party on the other side of town at Yeonjun's house, and all the hottest hockey players are going to be there," Rina announces with excitement, twirling around as she brandishes an ivory white cami dress with ruffled detailing on the straps and bust. How did she even find that? The last time you wore it was three years ago to your brother's 17th birthday party.

"Rina, I wore that when I was 16. It's not going to fit anymore. Bodies change, you know, and thankfully, my boobs have gotten bigger since then," you protest, trying to reason with her.

Blowing out air, Rina throws it at you with force whacking you in the face with it, “Squeeze into it. We’re going and you’re wearing that with those nice black Naked Wolfe dupes you got from Pretty Little Thing.” With no room to argue you fold it up in your arms.

“Since when did we go to Choi's parties? Didn’t he reject you and you swore to never to even breathe the same air again?” Rina had the biggest crush on Yeonjun but when she asked him to take her on a date he flat out said no and with zero explanation. Rina doesn’t take no for an answer so when it was a brutal rejection like that, she was on the warpath to make him regret it, it got so bad you had to physically stop her from signing him up to the Army.

Still rifling through your closet, Rina finds the boots and a matching leather jacket. "Yeah, well, I've matured," she quips with a mischievous grin.

“She’s going to use me to make it clear that she’s over him, which is right isn’t it babe, you’re over him.” Bless Allen, Rina did truly love him and there wasn’t a more perfect fit for her, but even he knew she couldn’t let a grudge go. Nodding her head she agrees, shining a wide grin to her very understanding and loving boyfriend.

One day you’ll find someone like Allen.

Rina gives you a time limit of 2 hours to get ready as she runs home with Allen to get changed herself. Parties are great, they’re fun and you can forget everything for a night, get drunk, and make terrible decisions to mask the ones you’ve already made. You haven’t been to any parties other side of town so this is the one time to undoubtedly let loose and embarrass yourself. It was in Sunghoon’s territory though, but he never goes to parties so you’re safe from the awkwardness of bumping into him.

Right on time, Rina and Allen are outside in a Lyft, the driver honking you down. You do one last check of your hair and makeup which you did to match the weird Bride of Chucky aesthetic Rina has set out, it’s not anything amazing, just some eyeliner and straight hair but you do look good.

“You can do this Y/N.” Whispering encouragement to yourself before you run downstairs. Minhee was out with friends and your mum was off galovanting somewhere, so you didn’t have to worry about them asking why you’re suddenly fit as a fiddle.

Tonight you have one job - to forget about Sunghoon and let your mind be free of any thoughts.

____

Arriving at the party, it’s already kind of busy, enough people that you have to weave your way through the hallway and into the living area which has now become overrun with loud Uni students. Everyone dresses up so nicely in this part of the city, it’s like you walked straight into Paris with how glamorous everyone looks. It makes you feel a little inferior but that can change with a few double vodkas and too many tequila roses.

Yeonjun's shared house is a bit chaotic but undeniably spacious, which means it takes you a bit of time to locate the booze amidst the clutter. The occupiers of the house, all members of the Albion Hockey Team, are part of the reason Sunghoon ended up skating at Belmore, and by extension, part of the reason you're now on a mission to drink their place dry.

As you step into the kitchen to pour yourself something, Rina beats you to it, already lining up some plastic neon shot glasses.

Looking around, you see a few potential boys you could harmlessly flirt with, none of them as pretty as Sunghoon, but no one could ever be, you haven’t seen anyone as ethereal as him since you were a little 7-year-old girl.

But tonight isn’t about him, well it is, but it’s about forgetting how perfectly his hair falls on his face, or how his eyebrows are so gorgeously thick and dark, and those freckles that are scattered on his face in all the right places are just perfect to kiss, and how his cock was the only one that made you feel satisfied, and ho-

“See anyone you like?” Rina’s voice thankfully rips you from your thoughts, pushing a shot into one of your hands and a pint glass of something in the other. Hurriedly, you down your shot and chase it with what now you know is a quadruple vodka and orange Breezer; the measurements Rina poured were always lethal like Majorca party strip-type measurements. Allen is close behind her, clinging to her just like she loves her men to do, but he is looking around with you, assessing from a man’s perspective.

Pointing sneakily to one guy with puppy dog eyes, you say to Rina, “He looks good and dependable, and his lips are nice.”

“Y/N, who the fuck cares about ‘dependable’ you are looking for someone to fuck the name Sunghoon out of your brain.” Rina declares bluntly, earning a pinch from Allen's warning grip as he shoots her a look, silently urging her to be more supportive in your time of need. "Okay, okay, how about we just get drunk and see who comes up to you? In that outfit, you'll have them lining up," she amends, holding her cup out for cheers. Allen nods in agreement, joining in the toast.

Not even an hour later, you’ve already misplaced your jacket and the dress you had to suck yourself into is hugging you tightly as your stomach bloats from how much alcohol you’ve consumed in a short amount of time. Despite your typically high tolerance, you find yourself more intoxicated than ever, swaying to the music blaring from various Alexas scattered throughout the house. The party has swelled in size, with unfamiliar faces outnumbering the familiar ones. Yet, you can't shake the feeling of being watched, though you can't pinpoint the source.

With a cup in your hand, you stretch up and move your hips to the music but it isn’t on time, you might as well be playing one of those ‘Guess who isn’t listening to the same music’ games, but you don’t care.

A hand runs itself down your back, stopping just above your ass but you don’t stop dancing. The mystery body starts to move along with you, his groyne making its way to your backside and pressing it in so you unconsciously grind on it. You’re so far gone you don’t register it until his breath is on your neck. Turning around, you meet a set of prowling eyes that instils uneasiness.

‘This is your chance to forget about Sunghoon though’ you argue with yourself. It’s not the right call and you know it but if you disregarded the weird feeling you got from him, he was genuinely handsome, tall and burley, clearly on the hockey team, and if romance books taught you anything it’s that hockey players could fuck really good.

“Hey," he smirks, his arms encircling you as his hands find their way to your rear, giving it a firm squeeze, "You look too sexy to be on your own. Who did you come with? A boyfriend?" His question seems calculated, an attempt to gauge your receptiveness, though you doubt the presence of a boyfriend would deter him in the slightest.

“I came with friends,” You try your best to play along. Rina was right, all you have to do is have a good fuck and you’ll forget about Sunghoon, not feel guilty about lying to Minhee, and everything should sort itself out…right?

Clearly, your answer pleased him because the lack of mention of a boyfriend had him giving your butt a harsh squeeze, “Why don’t you dance with me then, since they’ve ditched you.” He was a sleaze, that much was obvious but it was just a fuck at the end of the day, a one-night thing to prove that any man can give you what Sunghoon can.

So you throw caution to the wind and dance with him, trying to enjoy the way his hands are groping all over your body. He doesn’t get girls outside of parties because no man who knows how to feel a woman would be grabbing like this but those tequila roses are doing a great job at helping you not give a flying fuck right now.

Rina spots you when she comes hand in hand with Allen into the makeshift dance area and looks a little worried but you wave her off, signalling to her that you’re fine. Accepting your dismissal, she grabs Allen and takes him somewhere low-key.

<*>

Roughly 20 minutes later, the boy before you leans down, his lips on your ear, “Let’s go upstairs.” His breath blowing into your ear makes you cringe but nod and follow him as he practically drags you up the carpeted staircase and into the first empty room he finds. It doesn’t take long before his body pins you to the wall, his hands sliding up your 2 sizes too small dress already trying to get your underwear off. He wasn’t kind, or gentle, it was rough and barbarian.

Once he rids you of your pants, leaving them pooled around your ankles, he slides his finger up to your entrance, not even waiting before plunging into you mercilessly, “I’m going to have so much fun with you.” His voice sends a shiver up your spine, and not in a good way. Was this such a good idea? This isn’t what you imagined.

As he continues his attack on your hole you realise you aren’t getting any pleasure from this at all, in fact, it’s making you miss Sunghoon more. He was so attentive and caring about making you feel good and this guy is just fingering you to make sure his cock will fit. He didn’t need to bother opening you up if the imprint of him you felt when dancing was anything to go by.

The guy isn’t even kissing you, just staring at the wall behind him trying to make this quick. You need to stop this, you don’t feel good being here with him, “Uhm, I think my friends are shouting for me.” It was a pathetic excuse but hopefully, he would get the message and get off of you.

"I didn't hear anything," he dismisses, adding a second finger and increasing the pressure, causing discomfort akin to a carpet burn. His indifference only adds to your unease, and when you hear him unzipping his trousers, panic sets in.

You have mere seconds to escape this horrifying scenario. Your mind races through options, but it's clear asking him nicely won't work. With a surge of desperation, you attempt to push him away, pleading, "Really, I should go."

"Don't be a fucking tease. I put in the work," he growls, moving his weight to crush you even tighter against the wall, making escape impossible. Regret floods your mind as you realise you should have trusted your instincts about him. You should have listened to your gut, you knew he was horrible and yet you didn’t listen. A woman’s instinct is always right so why did you betray yours now?

The gears are turning in your head. Think. Your teary eyes widen and you gasp inward, doing all you can do in the situation - kick him in the balls. In a split second, you act on impulse and deliver a stinging knee to his exposed groyne. The contact sends him flying to the ground in agony.

Seizing the opportunity, you hastily adjust your underwear and flee the room, your heart racing with adrenaline and revulsion at what nearly happened.

<*>

Feeling icky and in desperate need to go home, you look for two things, Rina and your jacket; if you find your jacket first, you can phone Rina and get the fuck out of here.

Roaming around the house you see the familiar leather jacket hanging on the back of a dining room chair, all your belongings still there, thank the heavens. Unlocking your phone you dial Rina’s number but she doesn’t answer, she’s nowhere to be found in this massive place because she’s probably sucking off Allen somewhere. Shit.

As you frantically flip through your contacts, your thumb hesitates over Minhee's name. If you called him, you would never hear the end of it and it wouldn’t just be Sunghoon he would forbid you from seeing but literally any of the outside world that wasn’t school or the rink. But desperate times call for desperate measures so you scurry outside into the cold, trying to sober up a little before phoning him to pick you up.

But there's no answer from Minhee. He's probably out celebrating Jungmo's birthday with his friends, too intoxicated to even consider coming to your aid. Why did you even entertain the thought? Now he'll worry because he missed your call, you realise with a pang of guilt.

Crafting a flimsy excuse in a text message, you attempt to play it off as a casual check-in, hoping to alleviate any concern he might have.

A bolt of panic jolts through your back as you hear the guy from earlier’s voice bellowing down the stairs, calling you every name under the sun. If he found you, you don’t know what he would do, so you hide behind a group of people in the front garden, trying to blend in. Shakily, you scroll through your apps trying to find any taxi service that would come ASAP, but of course, everyone and their gran is trying to get home so as you try to book a ride the max wait time is 40 minutes.

Crumbling to the ground you sob, you just want to get away from here, you want Rina or Allen to come to find you, you want to feel safe again. You want Sunghoon.

Sunghoon. He lives on this side of town. Could you have the gall to ask him to come rescue you after you basically left him in the dust? You stand up, fixing your hair and dress, and wiping your tears away as if he can see you and hit call, “This is a bad idea, Y/N. He won’t eve-”

“Hello?” He picked up within 2 rings, not even long enough to finish your inner monologue.

Hearing his voice come through the phone makes your heart skip, you haven’t heard or seen him in a week but you would think it was years the way you choke up, “Y/N, It’s late. What do you want?”

“S-sorry I-,” You can’t get the sentence out before bawling to him on the phone, all the tears you’ve held in now overflowing tenfold. All the pent-up anguish and fear pour out, overwhelming you as you cling to the lifeline of Sunghoon's voice on the other end of the line. How can you possibly explain this to him? Even in your sober state, you doubt you could articulate the events of the evening - the desperation to forget him, the reckless decisions made in the name of distraction, the groping, it all sounds so foolish and shameful.

“Y/N? What’s wrong? Talk to me.” His voice is flooded with concern and you hear him shuffle on the other end, “Sweets, please?” he drags out the please, begging you to cooperate with him. What you don’t know is he’s putting on trousers as you cry, ready to come get you before you even have the chance to ask him, “Are you out? Is that music?”

“I’m at Yeonjun’s party.” He tenses, feeling even more worried for you than before. He knows what that crew is like and if you, a well-assured girl who can most definitely handle herself is crying, that means something bad has happened, "I'm sorry, Hoonie. I shouldn't have called. It's just... the taxis are all too far away, and I can't find Rina, and I just really need to go home," you confess in a rush, the words tumbling out in a jumble of desperation and regret.

"I'm coming to get you. Stay there, and don't talk to anyone," Sunghoon commands, his voice firm with determination. Both of you feel the same palpitations of fear and concern, the only remedy being Sunghoon's swift arrival by your side. With a swift motion, he throws on his black hoodie and bolts out the door of his flat, ignoring his flatmate's bewildered inquiries. There's no time to waste - he needs to reach you as quickly as possible.

Sitting beside a couple making out, you lift your knees and cross your arms, tucking your face into the space you’ve created. How could you be so stupid? You’ve just created a bigger mess than this had to be.

Why couldn't you have just followed Allen's advice and left it alone? No grand plan to get over Sunghoon, just accepting the choice you made and moving on. Sure, you'd be miserable, but at least you wouldn't be freezing outside a house party in an unfamiliar side of town, surrounded by strangers. The laughter of partygoers echoes around you as you cry, feeling utterly exposed and humiliated. Every approaching figure sends a shiver of fear down your spine in case it’s him, causing you to recoil further into yourself.

Your mind is doing that thing that all women do in these situations and blaming yourself for what happened, it’s tricking you into thinking you asked for it because you followed him, but you didn’t know it was going to be like that, so degrading. You feel so weak, like a damsel in distress, this wasn’t you. Maybe you should have just walked home and dealt with it on your own.

There’s an engine in the distance and you pray to anyone that it’s Sunghoon. Headlights shine through the street and the car comes to a halt, tyres screeching as it emergency brakes. Looking up you see the 6-foot-tall boy you’ve been dying to see since last Thursday. Instantly, your body relaxes knowing you’re almost safe.

Sunghoon slams the door shut and charges up to the door, he almost walks into the party but you squeak out his name loud enough he notices you, “Y/N.” The way he says your name is like he’s both relieved and desolate.

Dropping down to his knees, Sunghoon pulls you closer, his touch gentle as he softly rubs your arms to keep you warm. It's clear from your dishevelled state that you're as drunk as a skunk.

He asks what happened, concern etched into every line of his face, but you can't find the strength to articulate it. Instead, you shake your head, tears streaming down your cheeks unabated.

The vulnerability in your body language speaks volumes, but Sunghoon needs to know the specifics, "Please, tell me," he implores, his voice tinged with urgency and worry.

"This guy," you begin, wiping away tears as you struggle to compose yourself, "I was dancing, and he said we should go upstairs, so I did, and he..." A sob interrupts your explanation, tearing through your chest and escaping into the night air. You instinctively cover your mouth, as if trying to contain the anguish within.

After a few moments, you regain some semblance of composure and continue your slurred account. "He was touching me, which was fine at first, and then I didn't want him to anymore, and he..." The words catch in your throat, rendering you unable to finish the sentence.

Sunghoon's jaw clenches with restrained anger as he pieces it together, "Did he..." His voice trails off, the unspoken question hanging heavily between you. He doesn’t want to ask in fear of what your answer will be.

"No, I got out of there before he could," you assure him, relief evident in your voice.

Sunghoon's head falls onto your knees, relief washing over him knowing you escaped further harm, but anger simmers just beneath the surface. He wanted to commit every crime against this pervert because how dare he think he had any right to do that?

Sunghoon lifts his head back up, his eyes meeting yours and it breaks you a little because you basically just confessed to nearly fucking another man.

"You did so good, Sweets, getting away and calling me. So fucking good," he praises, his arms enveloping you in a tight embrace, offering whatever comfort he can summon. He knows that a mere hug won't erase the turmoil raging within you, but it's a start, "I'm so proud of you," he murmurs, his words a balm to your wounded soul, eliciting even more tears from you as you allow yourself to be held tightly.

The smell of him and the softness of his hoodie was all the feeling you needed earlier, that safety you begged for. Sunghoon strokes your back, laying a few kisses atop your head between intervals of his whispered reassuring words.

Leaning back to look at you, he takes his right thumb and wipes your tears away, “Let me get you out of here.” He wanted to ransack the party for the bastard that made you cry like this, but he fights himself against it, choosing to focus on you and your needs rather than his want to kick fuck out of that guy.

“Stand up for me, Sweets.” He holds you steady while you find your footing on the grass. Once he knows you’re okay and not going to drunkenly collapse back down, he fastens up your leather jacket and wraps an arm around your shoulder, guiding you to the safety of his car.

Just as he has calmed you down and you’re halfway down the front path, a venomous voice invades your ears and you tense under Sunghoon’s touch, giving him every indication of who it could be.

“There you are, gorgeous. Sorry, lad, this one’s taken.” He goes to grab you but Sunghoon blocks him and pushes him back, holding himself back from battering his lights out.

In shock, the guy glances at Sunghoon, his expression morphing into a mixture of disbelief and indignation. "Nah, this fucking cock tease owes me," he retorts, his tone dripping with contempt.

A heavy silence descends upon the scene as a crowd begins to emerge from the party, their murmurs mixing with the tension in the air. You catch snippets of conversation, people questioning Sunghoon's presence at a Choi party, knowing full well the history between him and Yeonjun.

Sunghoon and Yeonjun have had beef since they were in 3rd Year of High School after the ice skater found out Yeonjun snuck weed into his bag for a ‘joke’ and it consequently got him suspended from Skating until he proved himself through drug tests. It's a deep-seated grudge that neither of them has forgotten. Since then, he hasn’t stepped foot near Yeonjun or any of his friends.

Sunghoon steps up to the guy, staring him down. Your perpetrator might be built but Sunghoon is tall and way more intimidating, everyone can see that, “Say that again.” "Say that again," Sunghoon challenges, his voice laced with a quiet intensity, silently daring the guy to escalate the situation further. It's a dangerous game, and Sunghoon is teetering on the edge, desperate for an excuse to unleash his pent-up fury upon the guy who dared to harm you.

“That bitch is a fu-”

The garden erupts into chaos as Sunghoon's fist connects with the boy's face, the impact echoing through the air like a gunshot. The crowd gasps in shock, some scrambling to film the fight while others recoil in horror. With each blow, Sunghoon's rage intensifies, his fists raining down on his target with unrelenting force. There is no thought in his mind, only a primal instinct to protect you at all costs.

Blood gushes from the boy's nose and mouth, staining the grass crimson as he struggles to breathe due to the onslaught. He splurts out blood but that doesn’t stop Sunghoon as he shows no mercy, his relentless assault fueled by a surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins. The sheer power behind his punches threatens to shatter bones, each strike delivering a punishing blow that leaves his opponent battered and broken. You swear you hear cracks coming from the boy’s nose and jaw.

Rina and Allen run out to the commotion and watch as you try to stop him, “Hoonie, stop!” You scream as you stand still, not daring to get in the middle of it out of fear of catching a hit. Your words don’t stop him though, only making him angrier because he can hear the bubble in your throat from your tears. The boy below starts to appeal with him to stop too, not sure how much more he can take.

Pushing him forward, Rina signals for Allen to help but he’s also too scared to move, mimicking your ceased state but eventually she pushes him so hard he ends up in it anyway, grabbing Sunghoon by his hoodie to get him off. The helpful boy almost gets an elbow to the face but he swerves it.

“Don’t you dare fucking touch my girl again,” Sunghoon physically spits on him, pushing Allen off in the process.

My girl.

The words make your heart pound, even more than it already is due to the booze. Right now you should be terrified because Sunghoon just displayed about 10 red flags, but why are you not scared at all? He got so angry he nearly punched a man to death and you still feel completely safe even just being around him. Maybe it’s the fact that he’ll protect you so willingly.

Sunghoon shakes the blood from his hand, wiping some of it on his sweatpants before he finally faces you again, “Y/N…” He’s filled with anxiety that you’re petrified of him, of this protective side that even he didn’t know he possessed, “I-” He doesn’t get to finish his sentence before you pull him into a hug, your face nuzzling into his heaving chest. A mixture of missing him and feeling grateful for his act causes you to squeeze him so tight he can’t breathe.

Sunghoon hesitates for a moment before returning the embrace, holding you close, his heart pounding against yours in rhythm. Despite everything, in this moment, you find comfort in each other's arms, a silent understanding passing between you that transcends words.

He places a side kiss on your temple and looks at you, “I’ll take you to mine.”

“No, you won’t, are you crazy?” Rina’s voice pierces through the tense atmosphere, making you stumble back, but Sunghoon is there to catch you, his protective grip reassuring, “I am not letting my best friend go home with a psychopath.”

He scoffs, facing her with a hard expression and one arm still holding onto you, “Best friend? You mean the best friend you couldn’t even be bothered to stick with because you were fucking your shrimp of a boyfriend?”

Pinching him, you shake your head, you don’t want him to start bad-mouthing your friends just because he’s angry, it’s not their fault. He whispers a ‘sorry’, his bloody hand stroking the last of your tears away before he turns back to Rina, tone firm, “I am taking her home and you are going to cover for her if her family asks where she is in the morning, got it?” Without waiting for their response, he guides you towards his car, planting another kiss on your head before opening the door for you.

As he shuts the door behind you, he glances back at the scene he left behind with a small smirk, feeling a sense of vindication from getting a few hits against one of Yeonjun's lackeys. He gets in the driver's seat, putting the heating on and starting the car.

“I’m sorry, Sunghoon.” You mumble, appreciating the heat that's blowing your way as you start to get sleepy from all the adrenaline leaving you. He buckles your seatbelt for you, untwisting it for your comfort.

“Why are you apologising?” His tone is firm yet gentle, and you can sense the protectiveness in his words.

“For phoning you, for getting you into that mess, it’s my fault,” you explain, feeling the weight of responsibility heavy on your shoulders.

“Don’t,” Sunghoon interrupts, his grip on the steering wheel tightening, “Don’t apologise for any of this, none of this is your fault.”

Regaining some composure, he softly puts his hand on your thigh but you jump slightly, memories from the previous guy coming to the forefront of your brain. The reaction you have only fuels Sunghoon’s anger back up but before he gets back out of the car and finishes the job, he takes his hand off you and drives back to his place. Luckily he lives only 10 minutes away and with the roads being so quiet at this time, he blazes through it in 6 minutes.

In that small amount of time, you pass out, snoring slightly, the noise making Sunghoon smile. You were so cute when you slept, so peaceful like you didn’t have one care in the world. He wanted that for you. Always.

Pulling up to the street he parks his car half on the pavement and turns the ignition off, being careful to not wake you.

The biggest challenge he’ll face is getting you up the stairs to the front door but he manages to carry you bridal style up and into the house. His two flatmates Jay and Jake are perched on the couch the way he left them earlier. The look on their faces drops when they see blood and a passed-out girl, “Is she okay?” Jake asks.

Sunghoon hushes them and keeps walking, “She’s fine, Lee Heosun isn’t though.” Leaving it at that, he walks into his room with you and lays you down on his bed. Your dress looks tight and uncomfortable so he picks around his room for some clothes to change you into but all he has is a Metallica shirt and some boxers in his drawer, everything else either needs to be washed or is his skating gear.

He lays the makeshift pyjamas on the bed before trying to take your dress off gently but you’re wriggling against him, unconsciously fighting him so you can keep sleeping, “Sweets we need to get you changed.” You grumble and shake your head, you’re incoherent but causing Sunghoon issues when you try to kick him away, seeking the deep release of sleep, “Work with me here, baby,” he exhales, finally getting the zip of your dress down.

After that, it was easy enough to strip you naked and slip you into his t-shirt. He did try to get you to put on the boxers but you had enough by then, rolling over onto his bed and getting comfy, your ass is hanging out. Normally, Sunghoon would be thinking something crude but all he is thinking about is how someone else touched you.

He promises to himself he won’t let that happen ever again.

“M’sorry, Hoonie.” you muffle into his pillow.

Tucking you into bed he kisses your forehead lightly, “Stop apologising, Sweets and go to sleep for me.”

Tapping your lips, you indicate you want a kiss, which makes Sunghoon hesitate. Eventually, he sighs, giving in to your request. “Just one, okay?” he concedes, leaning in to kiss you softly. The warmth of his lips against yours comforts you and him. He missed your lips the past week and he wouldn’t do without your kisses again.

“He told me not to see you.” You say forcing him to stay close to you, stealing smooches as you talk.

“Who did?” Sunghoon asks, brows furrowing.

“Minhee.”

Ah, it all makes so much more sense to him now. It wasn’t just your brain turning over and over in your head; Minhee had actually warned you to stay away.

Sunghoon kisses you longingly once more before pulling the covers up to your chin, sending you off to sleep.

_____

There has to be one of those cymbal clapping monkeys in your head because as you groggily sit up, all you feel is a pounding and ringing sensation. The last time you had a hangover this bad was last year at your birthday party when Rina came back to the table with 10 skittle bombs and 5 sambucas. The night was fun but the morning after was most definitely not.

It takes you some time to force your eyes open, expecting to see Rina’s room, but unless she heavily redecorated the complete opposite of her aesthetic in the past few weeks, it was safe to say you were not in Rina’s room. It’s strange because she always lets you crash at hers after a night out, it was an unspoken rule you both made so you could debrief the events of the night before and cringe every time you remembered some of the munters you kissed.

You rub your tired eyes to try and get a better scope of your surroundings but nothing about this room is familiar. Glancing around the walls you see posters of some random anime and Red Velvet, shelves filled with pictures of, and some shelves with all types of cologne and figurines displayed.

As you look down you see yourself dressed in only a t-shirt, no pants, no trousers - this cannot be good. Who did you speak with last night? If you were being honest, the whole night was a blur and the more you try to think the more your head hurt. The t-shirt smells familiar which is a good sign, as a matter of fact, the whole room smells familiar. It’s not overwhelmingly obvious but you could definitely place it.

Getting out of the comfortable bed you start to nosy around the person’s belongings like you were on an episode of Come Dine With Me, looking for any clue as to who the owner is.

The room is clean bar a few clothes and a gym bag that you have one-hundred percent seen before. Your best bet is to look at the photos splattered on the long mirror adjacent to the bed but when you look at it, the reflection of the wall behind you makes you spin around and observe.

The wall is filled with floating shelves covered in trophies and medals, an astronomical amount of awards for one person, kind of like Minhee has. The ironic thing is, you think this tiny room might hold more trophies than your brother’s double room dedicated to them.

Your steps slow as you approach a particularly large trophy, its gleaming surface catching the light. Your heart sinks as you read the nameplate, the realisation hitting you like a wave crashing against the shore.

No, no, no There is no way you are in his room..

Headache or not you need to start thinking about what ensued at that stupid party.

You got there, Rina handed you a few drinks, you took a few shots, danced with a few people, but what else? You don’t even remember seeing Sunghoon there so how the fuck are you in his bedroom and presumably in his shirt, or better yet, in only his shirt.

Cursing yourself was too polite a punishment because last night you made a promise to get over him by getting under someone and clearly that didn’t happen.

Oh no. You think to yourself as you start to wonder if he was the one you got under and you don’t even remember it. You grudge yourself because sober you wanted nothing more than to have sex with him again and now drunk you might have gotten the opportunity and forgot every single bit of it. She was not your best friend at the moment.

On the bright side, this was your chance to poke around his room and uncover any icks that could help you with your Sunghoon problem. You see a pair of boxers strewn on the floor and shove them on, trying to save yourself some dignity.

The trophies were magnificent. You knew he was the best but to see all his accomplishments displayed so blatantly like this struck you with awe. The years ranged from 2011 to now which just showcased how long he has been dedicated to the sport. You understand he’s been doing it since he was a kid, you got the privilege to watch him, but you didn’t get to see all his competitions - not the ones Minhee didn’t compete in at least.

Next to the last trophy is a picture of him, his dad, and his mum with what you assume is his first-ever award. He looked just how you remembered him, so cute and bright, the ice skating persona then was one far different than the ‘cocky’ one he has now. Back then he was branded as the nation's cutie pie and had every old woman trying to adopt him as their own, like how teenage girls adopt men in bands and claim them as their children.

You mourned the kid he used to be, only imagining his situation was the same as your brothers - grew up too fast with too much pressure.

Moving over to his desk you see his University books and a laptop with stickers he’s collected from random places. You don’t know a lot of them but see a few Sanrio stickers and smile, he is for sure Tuxedosam in human form.

There’s not a lot scandalous about the rest of the room which busted your mission. You could look through his drawers but you have to draw the line before it gets creepy.

There is, however, a bottle of water and some aspirin next to the bed which he must have left for you. Swallowing the physical pills, you now need to swallow the metaphorical ones and leave the room to face the boy you pied for a week.

A sick feeling bubbles in your tummy that could either be from the obscene amount of alcohol you drank or seeing him again. You did technically see him last night even if you don’t remember, but that makes the turning in your stomach worse because what did you do last night? Best case scenario? You didn’t embarrass yourself.

Hyping yourself up by shaking your shoulders, you open the door and head down the hall. By any miracle he won’t be there, you can put your shoes on and make a run for it. Sadly for you, when you see a broad back walking into the kitchen completely oblivious to your presence, you realise quickly you need to face this. Face Sunghoon.

“Hey,” Shooting around at the sound of your voice, Sunghoon’s eyes widen when he sees you like he wasn’t the one to carry you to bed and change you; it’s good to see you found the boxers he failed to fight on you last night.

“How are you feeling?” He doesn’t know how much you remember and he doesn’t know what to do if you don’t. How would he bring up anything that happened at the party without upsetting you all over again?

Sitting on a high stool at the island, you rest your head on one of your palms and close your eyes, “Fucking awful, my head has its own personal marching band,” you attempt to laugh at your analogy but it hurts too much, the strain on your head causes you to wince, “Did I, uh, did I call you last night?”

Shit, you don’t remember. Sunghoon physically stiffens because he doesn’t know what to say. You have every right to know what happened to you but then you might relive the memory and turn back into the girl from last night, and he never wanted you to feel like that again.

As you stare at him expectantly, he doesn’t move, the only thing stopping him from looking like a 2D manga character is his shifting eyes that are looking everywhere but at you.

The way Sunghoon is reacting is making you nervous. You must have fucked up big time if Park Sunghoon is speechless, “Sunghoon I’m sorry if I crossed a line.”

His eyes widen, your choice of words ironic to your situation. If he can make you remember at your own free will then that has to be better than just springing it on you, right? “You didn’t do anything out of order, I promise. You called me to come pick you up,” he pauses looking down at the now suddenly interesting countertop, “Do you remember why you phoned me?”

You lift your head from your hand and shake your head, “No, not really. I remember drinking lots and then it kind of blacks out.” Your brain vessels are popping at the hard work you’re putting in to remember because by Sunghoon’s facial expression, you’re missing something massive, “I do remember dancing, and then sitting on the ground outside.” The memories fade in and out, only recalling locations.

He blows cold air and nods slowly, knowing he is going to have to tell you, “Y/N, do you remember a guy?” Seeing your eyes dart about like you’re trying to find the answer in the air tells Sunghoon you don’t remember, “He uh, he was dancing with you and asked you to go upstairs?” He is giving you tiny hints to help you cast your mind back which seems to be working enough.

“I went upstairs and,” all the images from last night flash quickly by, how you walked up the stairs, how he pinned you against the wall, his unappealing touches, how he-. That’s why Sunghoon looks so apprehensive to tell you flat out what happened, “Oh…yeah.”

Suddenly, you feel like you’re back in your body from last night, that guy's fingers still on you and his breath sticking to your skin. It made you feel disgusting and your body didn’t fit right over your bones anymore. Your mouth fills with saliva and you grip the countertop, this only ever happens when you are going to be sick or have a panic attack, in this case, it could be both but for now, it’s only a nauseous reaction. Tears prick your eyes as you try to stop yourself from breaking down.

Rushing over, Sunghoon twists your seat to face him so he can envelope you in his arms, “Shh, you’re safe here.” And you believe him. You are safe as long as he is with you, his soft touches are a testament to that.

Sunghoon shuts his eyes, wishing he could take away all the pain and sorrow you’re feeling but he’s a useless bystander who can only watch you go through this. He knows words and affection only go so far and it would take you a while to come to terms with the ordeal, but he’s silently vowing to himself that he will be here for you.

It’s strange how rapidly he became attached to you, like you were a bright light and he was a moth, too distracted by your beauty to think about the danger.

Once you settled down a little, he pulled away to check your face for straggled tears and wiped them away, “I will never let anyone touch you again. Not like that.”

With your memory piecing back together, you pull yourself away from him, grabbing his wrist and inspecting his hand. He had punched that guy so much that the scene before you looked like something out of a gory horror film. Sunghoon’s knuckles are cleaned but bruised and discoloured, the swollenness of his hand indicates a minor fracture.

He wanted you to forget that part but he supposed you would see it eventually. It took him a long time to get the blood stain off, red tinges still visible if you looked hard enough. He has a pictorial for a sponsor in a few days that he’s either going to need his hand airbrushed over or cancel it completely. It didn’t matter the outcome, it was worth it. There will always be more ad deals in the future.

You bring his injured hand to your lips and kiss the knuckles softly which causes Sunghoon to suck in a breath and his throat to close over. Even when you were in dismay you still found time to look after him in the simplest of ways, ways he doesn’t know he needs until you’re already tending to him.

“You need to wrap this up and put some ointment on it or it’ll scar. Where can I find some wrap and Savlon?” You stand up, not taking your eyes off his battered hand.

“I’ll get them, they’re in the toilet I think.” He strolls to the bathroom and finds some old bandages and Geromlene that should do the job just fine. When he walks back into the kitchen you have a cup of water and a piece of kitchen towel, “Here.” He hands you what you need.

Pushing him onto the stool you once occupied, you put his hand on the worktop to clean it, “You know, you shouldn’t have done that.”

He knows the implications of his actions, especially with people recording. If it got to the board he could be removed from competing at Nationals and stripped of his titles, “I guess, but it was worth it.” The boy wants to say that you’re worth it but he doesn’t, scared you’ll pull away again, “I got some revenge from it too.”

The damage to his hand isn’t as bad as you thought but as it tremors slightly, you know some nerve damage has been done. Slathering it in Germolene stings him but he doesn’t let you know it hurts him, he just grits and bares it, letting you continue. Wrapping the bandage around the wound, you collect your thoughts, “What do you mean revenge?”

“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you one day,” he shrugs but his words set a sadness in your chest because when would he get to tell you this mysterious problem he has with your aggressor? Sunghoon is saying it like he has a lifetime to tell you all these stories but you shouldn’t even be speaking to him now.

“I am truly sorry, Hoonie,” He tries to talk but you interject, “Not just about last night but for shutting you down like that.” Pursing his lips, his eyes are trained on the bandage, “I just can’t be with you.”

You finish up and kiss his hand again. It’s not difficult to fix someone's physical wounds, there are all sorts of treatments and medications for them, it’s the emotional nicks and cuts you have a hard time patching up. You didn’t really think it would affect him but that’s a lot easier to manipulate yourself into thinking when the boy isn’t in front of you with his face contorted, looking like an injured puppy.

“Minhee doesn’t own you, y’know. You can see whoever you want.” He retorts, hoping you find some reason in his words. Confused, you scrunch your eyebrows as he explains, “You said last night Minhee forbid you from seeing me.”

Ah, drunken you really stuck her foot in it, “I know he doesn’t own me, but you should have seen his face. I’ve never seen him so angry.”

“How did he find out about us?” he asks. Sunghoon says ‘us’ so casually, like you’ve been an ‘us’ forever. He finds it so natural to talk about you as part of him. When he told Jay and Jake about your impromptu date the night of the Zamboni he kept speaking for both of you, how ‘we’ had a great time and ‘we’ just got one another.

“You drove your car up to my front door. The next morning he was all like ‘If you date him Y/N, I’ll kill him’ or something like that.” Your impression of Minhee makes Sunghoon laugh because you nail it perfectly - the scowl, the hard-lined eyes, you must have seen that face so much to perfect it.

Standing up, Sunghoon takes the medical stuff back to the bathroom where he found it, giving himself time to think of ways he can change your mind, find a loophole, anything that allows him to be around you. It’s selfish to want you with him knowing what it does to your brain but if he can somehow convince you, he’ll do anything.

Walking back to you, he sees your figure perched on the stool and there’s a lightbulb moment that goes off in his head, “Did he say date?”

You spin around at his question, unsure of what he is getting at, “What? Yeah, he said ‘date and stuff’ I think.”

“Then let’s not date.”

Slouching, you agree, nodding your head and trying not to look too upset. The notion of not dating him seems to nip your feelings more than you thought.

Seeing your saddened expression, Sunghoon quickly recovers, “No, let’s-” he pauses for a moment, trying to find a nice way to say it, “Let’s keep it casual, keep it strictly hooking up.”

You bring your eyes to meet his pleading ones but you don’t understand the whole situation. When you called it off, he walked away so easily you thought he didn’t care but in front of you now, he seems the exact opposite, “You didn’t seem bothered about me stopping whatever this is between us at the rink,” as you point your finger between you both, Sunghoon can only let out a ‘huh?’ and lean on the island, “You said ‘suit yourself’, like, that would indicate you couldn’t care less.”

Honestly, Sunghoon just didn’t know how to respond at the moment. He wanted to say more but what could he have said?

That was also the reason for his dry response, he decided that it might be best to let you walk away, for your own sake, “It’s not like that, Sweets. I didn’t mean to be like that, I just…I don’t know.” He couldn’t articulate his thoughts at the moment, brain preoccupied with how to keep you here, “Look, you can say no but if you’re the same as me, you know you want this.”

“It won’t ever just be a hooking-up situation though and you know it.” You had to call it what it is. The way you both feel, even in your week apart, was enough to know this would never work. Someone’s feelings, probably you both, would grow so immense that it would never stay casual.

“We make a deal, a promise, swear it on your brother's name that we won’t get attached. You’re too loyal to betray him and I can keep myself in check.” Sunghoon is highly aware of how desperate he sounds right now but he doesn’t mind.

“But I would already be betraying him by even considering having sex with you again.” You’re crestfallen as you speak, gazing down and playing with your fingers.

Sunghoon has the opposite reaction however, his face has a slight smile while he brings his hands to your shoulders, gaining your full attention, “But he said you can’t date me, not that you can’t fuck me.”

“I think it was implied, Hoon.”

“But not explicitly stated.” If Sunghoon wasn’t in university for sports physiotherapy, he could be studying to be a lawyer, at least that’s what he thinks, “C’mon, Sweets, I might go mad if I don’t get to touch you again.”

The cogs turn in your head because he does have a point, it’s the perfect, guilt-free loophole. You wouldn’t be dating him but still get to see him, it’s a win-win on paper, “What if my brother finds out?”

His big hands tuck your hair back behind your ears and stay pressed on your cheeks, “Believe it or not, Y/N, I don’t tend to air my sex life to the town.” Sunghoon breathes out a laugh, his thumbs swiping back and forth on your face, helping your uneasiness but also removing some of the smudged makeup from yesterday, “We’ll keep it a secret, yeah?”

“You could have any girl, Hoon, one you don’t have to sneak around with,” you want to give him one last chance out of this.

Pressing his forehead against yours, he whispers, “To be perfectly honest, Y/N, I don’t want just anyone else, I want you.” You need to tell your heart to calm down so you close your eyes to find some semblance of equanimity. He nudges his nose with yours and smiles, knowing the effect he has on you, “So, what do you say?”

There is a beat of a pause before you say softly, “Yes.” It was a risk. You would have to be careful but if you wanted to stop at any point you could, because it was just casual, nothing more - Minhee would never know.

The brightest smile graces Sunghoon’s face, his eyes shrinking in size and canines on full display, “Yeah?” It’s like he doesn’t believe it even though he’s heard it. For a moment he thought you were going to tell him no, that there was no ambiguity to be found in Minhee’s words, “Can I kiss you then?” he asks, his voice tinged with hopeful anticipation.

You meet his gaze, offering a nonchalant shrug that belies the flutter of excitement in your chest. "I suppose so," you reply, your tone teasing yet inviting.

He leans in slowly, testing to see if you actually meant it. Meeting him halfway, your lips meld together seamlessly, igniting a spark of longing that fuels the kiss. Sunghoon's smile against your mouth speaks volumes, conveying his joy and gratitude. Sunghoon can’t ever stop kissing you, not unless you need air.

With his hands gently gripping your waist, he feels you push yourself onto him. Sunghoon’s lips are all over yours practically eating your face off because he can’t believe he hasn’t kissed you in 8 days. He missed your taste and how easy it was to get lost in your mouth. Both of you are so desperate for one another that you don’t even come up for breath, the kiss all too consuming.

You yelp when he picks you up and carries you to his bedroom, kicking the door shut with his foot and throwing you both on the bed and as you shuffle up the bed, Sunghoon crawls with you, his mouth chasing yours eagerly.

There’s electricity in the air and it sparks pure lust into his body, his dick throbbing at the thought of being with you again. This time he’s going to do it right and take his time with you, ensuring you feel sufficiently fucked out when he’s done. When he was taking you in the front seat of his car, it was good, actually, it was beyond perfect but it was over too soon, he had so much more to show you.

His mouth moves at a new unhurried pace, his tongue running painstakingly slow over yours, so slow he could feel all your tastebuds. Sunghoon’s promise to himself was to devour you so much you are all he can taste for the next few days, just in case he doesn’t get the chance to sneak you away. This deal he has with you isn’t ideal, he wants to call you his and never let go, not just be a fuck buddy. He did call you his last night in the heat of the moment and it felt so good to say it.

Your hands slide under his white t-shirt and scrape his sides lightly, making the man shiver. It’s not only his waist you’re touching like this but you’re soon roaming all over his body. Your hands have a mind of their own as they glide every inch of his soft, warm skin, and the caresses you are receiving are equally as adoring. Not like that guy.

Why did you think about it now? Just when you had distracted yourself enough.

Noticing the change in you, Sunghoon pauses his kisses and opens his eyes, “Are you okay, Y/N?” You nod but it’s unconvincing, making him halt, “Talk to me, Sweets.”

Unfortunately, he’s seen that look on your face before and he knows what you’re thinking about.

How could he be so stupid? It didn’t even register to him you might not be ready to jump into bed considering what happened not 24 hours ago, hell, not even 12 hours ago.

“Hoonie?” Your voice is wispy as you run a hand through his dark locks, “Make me forget about it? Replace his touches with yours?” It was a simple request but it held so much weight. Sunghoon was the only one you wanted to feel on your body from now on.

“Are you sure, Y/N? I don’t want you to think you have to. I can wait for as long as you need.”

Sunghoon’s facial features are drawn with concern as he waits for you to truly think about this, to analyse whether you’re making this decision with a clear mind.

Shaking your head, you decline his kind act, “I want you to fuck me. Like really fuck me,” your eyes never come off of his to make certain he knows you’re serious, “I’m okay and I want this. I want you so bad.”

A smirk plasters itself onto Sunghoon’s face, “You’re going to kill me, y’know.” He presses his body on yours so you feel most of his weight on your core, his cock hardening as he softly grinds it onto your clothed heat, “As long as you’re sure?”

You nod, getting a little impatient but you’re appreciative of his concern.

He doesn’t say anything but goes back to kissing you even more intensely than before, his fingertips rubbing themself all over your body just as you requested. Sunghoon will do anything in his power to make you feel better. If this is what you wanted, this is what you’d get.

Sunghoon’s right hand trails down your stomach, shaking a little from sheer joy. He dips into the band of the boxers you’re wearing and slides his fingers perfectly between your folds, “How many times do you think I can make you cum this time, hmm?” The pad of his pointer circles your clit “Maybe once?” His husky voice flows into your ear as he speaks, “Could be twice, or three times, I know you’re more than capable.” You wriggle under him when his middle and ring fingers join the party and tap your entrance, “4 times? Could my Sweets cum 4 times for me?”

He has the audacity to be asking you these questions when all you can do is writhe in anticipation and want. If he keeps rubbing your clit and poking at your hole like this you might have the first orgasm in record time, but you don’t want to give him all the satisfaction, so you hold back.

Biting at your neck, he feels your heartbeat picking up speed to mirror with his thumb, “You could cum right now, couldn’t you? Why don’t you?” Sunghoon can feel your resistance and he knows you’re hating how much control he has over you. You’re an independent girl and he knows that means you’re not used to being in this position, with someone playing you like this. When you rode him in his car, you wanted to be in full control but he didn’t let that happen.

Moving his face to yours, he sees your eyes shut and mouth open, a clear invitation for him to stick his tongue down your throat. You moan at the sensations happening to your body all at once and the cocky boy on top of you smiles, his tongue licking over yours, “Let go, Sweets. I won’t deny you anything unless you want me to.”

If there is one thing you hate in this world it’s being edged. You’re aware that some people love it, that it heightens the climax when you finally get to cum but you can’t think of anything worse. Why withstand the inevitable when you can have multiple bouts of pleasure? So maybe you should just let him see how many times he could get you off, it would be beneficial for you, who cares if his ego inflates, you could get him back another time.

You smile at the thought of having another time with him.

Once you make the decision to loosen up and let Sunghoon do his thing, he knows he’s won the tiny battle of dominance, “Good girl.” Here comes that praise kink you’ve discovered because, with his words, you’re purring into his mouth and levitating your hips to get more connection from his fingers. You don’t have to ask him anything, he already knows what you need, he can feel the wetness on his fingers that’s leaking from your pussy.

His thumb hasn’t stopped rubbing you, and it continues with the same vigour as he slips his two fingers into you, stretching you open. Assessing your face for any discomfort, he doesn’t discover any, only bliss etched on your features. If he could, he would do this for a full-time job and work overtime just to see you like this all of the time.

Sunghoon starts to thrust his fingers into you at a steady pace, one finger ridged, applying pressure, and the other loose so he can hit every spot inside you. He wasn’t an expert on fingering women but with the response of your pussy contracting, he knows he’s giving you what you need. While his fingers pleasure you, he works off the boxers you’re wearing which is easier said than done considering he’s only got one hand to pull them down with. It’s not like him to give up on anything though and before you know it, he’s whipped them off your legs, all the while never letting up on his pace.

He needs to add multitasking to his resume.

Sitting on his knees and finding a new angle, he adds a third finger, stretching you to the brink. He looks at you from where he sits and takes in the view; your legs spread, shoulders pushing themselves into his sheets while your back lifts - it’s the most beautiful sight he’s ever witnessed. And here he was thinking you bouncing on his cock was top of his list.

You bite back a moan, covering your mouth with your forearm, “Nu-uh, Sweets. I wanna hear you,” he leans forward and cages beneath him as he pins your arm away from your face, “Let me hear how good you feel.”

You aren’t necessarily loud in bed, but you’ve never had the need to be moaning and groaning like a pornstar. That was until now, so with his go-ahead, you become more vocal, signalling when he was making you feel stars in your pussy. “Fuck, I-”

“Cum on my fingers, baby, give it to me,” he rubs your clit harder, coaxing out your first of many orgasms of the night.

Not wasting a single drop, he dips down so his face is at your core and laps up the juices, replacing his fingers with his tongue. You taste so perfect, the tang of your pussy is what he has been craving and he wasn’t satisfied until he had it filling his mouth.

He eats you out, his fingers that were once inside you now assisting his mouth by spreading your folds open. Your legs flail while he drinks you up, consuming your pussy like it was the last bit of water and he was a traveller in the Sahara Dessert.

You finally plant your feet on the bed, resisting the urge to close your thighs in case you suffocate him, but Sunghoon being Sunghoon, notices, “Don’t be scared to crush my head, I like it.”

He loves it actually, the feeling of being confined by fluffy thighs, the 'no way out’ feeling gives him more incentive to get his partner to cum quicker. It might be masochistic the way he loves fighting for breath but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Oh my fuck,” Your legs grant his wishes and trap him. He is way too good at this like he does it as an obsessive hobby. All caution is thrown to the wind and mewl out his name loudly, tugging his hair with your hands.

Sunghoon feels his cock throb at how you cry out his name so achingly, he needs to have you around him soon, so he focuses on your clit, nipping at it skillfully to bring you over the edge. It only takes a minute or two before your pussy is contracting as you cum over his face. Your nectar coats his mouth and he wonders how he can add your cum as part of his skincare routine because he wants to be lathered in it morning and night.

Your legs shake intensely as you feel the orgasm claim you. Your body has gone limp, legs falling open to each side. Swiftly, his hands are on your ass, pushing your vagina up to his face so he can tuck into you, taking full control. Sunghoon is holding your whole bottom half up and it’s helping him slurp you, his tongue dipping into your hole to lap any of the leftover cum he could have missed and his perfect nose rubbing against your delicate clit.

“Sunghoon, please, I can’t do another one so quickly.” Sunghoon doesn’t hear you though, too focused on his meal. He’s using his hold on you to manually grind your pussy on his face which is sending you into overdrive. He buries in your cunt as deep as humanly possible, moaning into you.

The vibrations from his moan are too much for you, “Hoonie, fuck, I’m gonna cum again.” His ego is the size of Buckingham Palace the way he made you take back your words. He knew you were lying when you said you couldn’t cum again that fast. You need to start giving yourself more credit.

For the third time today, you cum hard moaning his name, this time you're really gripping at his hair, almost thrashing around at the intensity of it. Those porn videos you see scrolling through Twitter might not be as over the top as you thought because you’ve lost your head, the only thing you know for certain is that your pussy is pulsing and soaking wet.

He kisses up your heat once more while his hands rub the outside of your legs, trying to get you to settle, “Take a minute,” Sunghoon brings you forward so you sit up, his arms keeping you steady when you climb onto him and sit on his lap, “You did so well, Sweets.” You lay your head on his shoulder and indulge in the praises he’s giving you.

Drawing back you look at him with hazy eyes, “Thank you, Hoonie.”

“I should be thanking you, you taste fucking unreal,” he pushes your sweaty hair back absentmindedly before he kisses you ever so gently, his teeth grazing your lower lip, asking you to open up for his tongue.

Slowly, you open up to grant him entry, his kitten licks subtle but deep enough that you can tangle your tongue with his. You had never been kissed like this before and it was turning you on so much; the way his hands were roaming over your back and his lips moulding into yours just right, it was like a dream. The atmosphere was getting hot again as you both deepened the kiss, your tongues swirling and flicking with one another rhythmically.

He bites your bottom lip and pulls at it roughly, making you involuntarily groan and throw your head back. Sunghoon loves how responsive you are, the way your body presses into him desperately seeking connection the same way he does. It's euphoric, and it gives him the same feeling of want that you do.

One thing that’s missing is the view of your delicious tits in his face, covered by his much-loved band t-shirt. Swiftly, he peels it off your body and his hands fly right to them, squeezing and pulling at them roughly. He contemplates removing his lips from your mouth to attach them to your perky nipple but you’re enjoying kissing him too much.

He’ll come back for them soon.

Although it seems like he has been kissing you for eternity, it has revived you and made you want more. The idea makes your clit pulsate, and you softly massage her over his clothed cock, “Hoonie,” the uttering of his nickname brings him out of his dazed state and he pulls back to look at you, “I need you.” After admiring how full his lips have become from the kisses, you find it impossible to resist the temptation to start kissing him once more, not giving him a chance to speak.

Sunghoon’s mouth should be put in a museum or win some sort of Nobel prize for how spectacular it is.

“You sure? Don’t you need more time?” To be honest, Sunghoon became so engrossed in your tongue inside his mouth that he completely lost track of time. He’s unaware that he has been kissing and holding you on his lap for more than twenty minutes which for you is more than enough recovery time.

“I’m sure,” You reassure him not just by your words but by how hard you’re starting to hump him over his boxers.

His eyelids are drooping, heavy from the lust he’s feeling, “Fuck, you turn me on so bad, Y/N.” Sunghoon can’t wait any longer so with one hand on the back of your head and one on your ass, he lifts you slightly as he shuffles forward to lay you down so you’re comfortable on the bed. Just as he promised himself, he dives his mouth onto your left tit, sucking and licking your nipple. They’re so soft and delicate that he just cannot get enough.

Although you enjoy the way he's toying with your breasts, it's not what you want right now. He has all the time in the world to fondle you, just as soon as his cock is slotted inside your pussy, “Sunghoon, please.”

“Shh, I know.” He gets it, he really does - he is just as, if not more desperate to fuck you. He just had to pay some extra loving to his favourite girls first.

“Let me grab a condom.” Sunghoon keeps them in his top drawer like most people do so they’re easy enough to retrieve and won’t keep you waiting. He stands up and flicks through the drawer to find the foils - he has ultra-thin condoms somewhere in this mess which are far superior to the ones he has in his car.

You turn to look at him as he hurriedly scours his drawer for the rubber and it dawns on you that he still has his clothes on, albeit he’s only in a loose top and stripy boxer shorts, but it’s still two layers too many. Your fingers reach over and twist his top idly, wondering what he looks like naked. It was unfair he got to see you naked twice and you haven’t even seen him with his top off yet.

Sunghoon feels the tugging of his t-shirt and looks down at you, the desired-filled gaze you have as you’re lost in thought only encourages him to find the condoms faster. He finally stumbles upon the red packet and inwardly celebrates. The ultra-thin condoms felt so good, giving him almost the same sensation as going in raw while making sure no baby Parks were running around Cheonan.

With the boy distracted as he shuts the drawer, you take the opportunity to slowly pull down his boxers. His startled expression turns to one of excitement as he processes what you’re doing, “That desperate?” Instead of answering, you lick up his shaft painfully slow, keeping eye contact with him as you do so, “Fucking hell.”

As your mouth closes around his tip and sucks firmly, the already painful hardness of his cock intensifies, leaking pre cum into your mouth already, “Sweets, as much - fuck - as much as I would love to have you suck me off, I really want to fuck you.” He whips off his t-shirt, now standing proudly naked.

Popping off him reluctantly, you agree and go back to the position he laid you in, “You always listen to me so well, Sweets,” he says while stroking his cock a few times to spread the mix of your saliva and the beads of his cum.

Opening the wrapper and rolling the condom, he sees your hungry eyes focused on him. You’re watching his every move and it’s agonising. That jealousy that seems to erupt within you when it comes to Sunghoon seems to have gotten so bad you’re now jealous of him as he touches his own cock. There’s something wrong with you but you want to be the only one touching him.

Sunghoon crawls on the bed and hovers over you, ready to give you what you want, “Can’t wait to feel you around me again. Thought I might die.”

“Sunghoon, it’s only been a week,” you laugh and curl your arms around his neck to peck his lips.

“Yeah, a week too long.” Sunghoon mirrors your laugh. He wasn’t joking though, after he fucked you, nothing else could get him off, only you could do that for him now. He was never letting you out of his grasp again, that much was obvious.

He starts by dragging his dick through your folds, stimulating your clit with the brushing of his head just to test how ready for this you are. Your nub was highly sensitive at the moment and he didn’t want to hurt you but by the soft mewls leaving your throat, he got confirmation that you were okay and pressed himself to your entrance, slowly pushing in.

Sunghoon started off slow and shallow, opening you up around him gently. What he doesn’t plan on is you moving yourself down further onto his cock, already eager for more. He didn’t know what you liked so he had to learn as he went along but he’s taking mental notes because he wants to be the one fuck you never forget about. Even in 40 years if you’re married to someone else with kids he wants you to look back on him and think about how no one has ever fucked you as good as Park Sunghoon.

He grips your hips and starts to bottom out, thrusting into you with a fast and steady pace that’s already driving you wild. The way his cock curves slightly to the left helps add a sensation you haven’t felt before with anyone else, “Oh my god, fuck,” you grasp him by his hair and plant more kisses on him. Even though they're clumsy, you absolutely have to have him all over you, whatever it takes, “Hoonie, you feel so good.”

“Fuck, baby, so do you,” The nickname slips out his lips by accident, he wasn’t sure if calling you baby was against the rules, he’d have to ask you later because he doesn’t think you’ve even registered what he just said, too lost in pleasure.

His hips snap sharply against you as he presses in deeper. The feeling of your pussy squeezing him has him close to climax but he’s holding it in, just like you did earlier. This wasn’t for any reason other than wanting this to last. Sunghoon can cum more than once usually, but with breaks, and by the look of you already so fucked out, he knows he can’t push you to go that long.

Sitting back up on his knees, he lifts one of your legs over his shoulder and twists you on your side, the new angle allowing his cock to hit your sweet spot over and over again. He’s pounding into you so deep you think you can feel him in your stomach, “Fuck, Hoonie, right there!” you cry out in pleasure, burying your head into the bed. He is literally fucking you sideways and you cannot get enough of it.

You want to help out but you physically can’t. Sunghoon is holding onto your leg and manhandling you in any way he pleases to make you feel good and fuck it’s working. In contrast to his forceful thrusts, he gives your calf a couple of gentle kisses, making you feel incredibly cared for, as though his sole goal is your pleasure.

And it is. That’s all he will ever think about from now on, “Y/N,” he moans your name and it’s the best song you’ve ever heard, “I’m gonna fuck you forever.”

“Please, don’t ever stop, please.” You mean every pleading cry because you’ve never felt so good in your life. The groans escaping your mouth are so loud it’s embarrassing but when you feel Sunghoon thrust his hips faster, the feeling of embarrassment dissipates because he clearly likes you being loud, probably because he’s the same. His grunts filled the room with the occasional profanities following them. You’ve never been with a man who’s vocal but you can’t ever go back to the quiet. You can’t fuck anyone other than Sunghoon.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Sweets. You’re fucking sensational.” He twists you back onto your back, both of your legs now placed over his broad shoulders as he bends you in half, fucking you to finality, “You’re squeezing me so good. Do you want to cum?” His voice is breathless, close to finishing himself.

You can’t get the words out so you settle with a nod but you know he wouldn’t accept that as an answer. Looking up at him you manage to build your voice, “Yes, Hoonie. I wanna cum so bad, please let me cum.”

“You never have to ask, Sweets, just let go.”

Being the people pleaser you are, it’s only natural for you to ask if you can cum. If you cum too soon he might not like that and you can’t imagine disappointing him. What you don’t know is that you could never disappoint Sunghoon, he doesn’t care if you cum in 5 seconds or 5 hours, he just wants you to feel good.

He sees you thinking about it even though you’re desperate to climax. It’s time for him to bring out the big guns. Sliding his hand down between you, he rubs your clit back and forth, “Be a good girl for me.” He caught onto your need for appraisal right away and he knows it’ll drive you crazy. And he’s right because the praise mixed in with his harsh thrusts and fingers stroking your clit, your body starts to shake and contort as you cum.

Even though your eyes are clenched tight, you could cry from how much the orgasm is coursing through you., “That’s it, doing so well for me,” Sunghoon whispers in your ear, losing his sharp rhythm, “Fuck, Y/N, you’re the best pussy I’ve ever had.”

“It’s only for you.” You whimper, still fucked out of reality, “Only yours.”

“Yeah? Your pussy is all mine?”

“All yours, Hoonie.”

With your words, he stills his cock inside of you and lets his climax take control as he spills into the condom, filling it up before falling on top of you. It doesn't take the exhausted man long to realise that his head is perfectly positioned between your tits, a sly smile teasing his face.

This is everything he’s ever dreamed of.

Your shared breathless pants bounce around the room, evidencing the exertion of your sex session. Can you imagine if you had said no to being casual with him? You wouldn’t have gotten to experience the best sex of your life.

He lifts his head to look at you, swallowing hard, trying to get some moistness back into his mouth, “You are unreal, do you know that?” All you can do is laugh at him and shake your head, “I’m serious, Y/N, you’re fucking amazing.” He places a gentle kiss between your breasts as if to seal his compliment into your heart.

You thread your fingers through his hair and it falls perfectly back into place. You are so content right now with Sunghoon’s cock nestled inside you, his hands tucked under your back as he absentmindedly massages you, and his lips now trailing kisses up your collarbone and neck, “Thank you, Hoonie.”

“You don’t have to thank me for telling you the truth,” His lips finally meet yours again as he smooches you a couple of times.

“Not that,” you pause to collate your words, “Thank you for helping me yesterday, like truly I wouldn’t have been surprised if you ignored my call.” After you left him high and dry you didn’t understand why he came to your rescue at the party but you could not thank him enough.

“I’ll always answer when you call,” he states casually, hiding how his words have a deeper meaning.

His eyes sparkle and stare into yours. He wants to say more but he has to leave it there. What he wants to tell you is that you can rely on him night and day and that he wants to protect you for the rest of his life. There’s something about you that is dragging him into a pot of feelings he hasn’t experienced before.

It’s crazy how fast all of this has happened for you both, and if he ever vocalised how he felt people would probably tell him it was crazy. Yet, for Sunghoon, it wasn’t crazy at all. He felt so many things for you, he just doesn’t know what they all are or why they’re happening so quickly.

But he told you he would keep his feelings in order, hold them back to make this deal work. It’s going to be difficult because he wants to scream at how much he likes you, how comforting it is when you’re with him. Even when you studied at the rink while he skates, no one uttering a word or sparing a glance, he just felt happier with your presence. That’s probably why he came up and spoke to you that night he accused you of being a spy for your brother.

Yes, there was a little part of him that believed you were there to give Minhee a heads up given how close you both are, but he just needed one excuse to talk to you. If he made the first move then he could keep talking to you, just like he’s always wanted to.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you whisper.

“Like what?” His eyes don’t stop speaking silent words and it makes your tummy flutter.

“Like you’re breaking the rules already.”

You sit up on your elbows, breaking the connection. Not that you wanted to but if you both can’t even keep the deal intact for a couple of hours, there was no hope for you. Sunghoon listens to your body language and gets off of you completely, slipping his cock out in the process.

He disregards the condom in his bin and puts his boxers back on, “I guess we need to set the rules before I can break them.” Suddenly he goes out of the room for a minute, only to come back with a cloth and some blue Powerade, “Like, can I clean you up, or is that a no?”

The boundaries between what is and is not too intimate are hazy, but he is physically unable to resist taking care of you after sex. He would rather die than watch you clean yourself because as far as Sunghoon was concerned if he made the mess, he should clean it. Plus, it’s the right thing to do after he just fucked your brains out.

“I-” You ponder for a moment, unsure of the protocol between fuck buddies, but as you think it over, Sunghoon is already wiping you down, cleaning your juices from your folds and thighs. You could do it yourself, you supposed, but you can’t lie, being taken care of like this even in the most simplest of ways made you feel warm inside. Are these the feelings you’re both trying to avoid? This is too complicated.

“I guess we can work out the rules as we go. But I am giving you aftercare, I don’t care what you say.” He hands you the Powerade once he’s finished cleaning you off, “And you can’t run off right away.”

“But I can’t spend the night,” you argue.

“You don’t have to, but I’m not going to kick you out. If you’re tired, you stay here. End of story.” Clearly, Sunghoon hasn’t grasped the idea of friends with benefits but you’ll let it go for now.

You take a sip of your drink, your gaze lingering on Sunghoon as he rummages through his closet, searching for something for you to wear. You take the time to admire his back, the natural muscles built from his workout regime pop as he flicks through the hoodies hanging up. It’s making you wet again, you can’t lie.

He removes one from its hanger and gives it to you, along with some gym shorts. Although they probably look great on him, you can’t help but think how much you might end up looking like Adam Sandler if you put them on, but then again, you don’t have a choice.

“Here, put these on.” He hands you the clothes, kissing your head before petting it softly, the act of affection making you giddy.

“I can’t wear your hoodie, that’s too girlfriend-ish,” you look up at him and his hand stops at the back of your head, scratching it adoringly.

Sunghoon sighs with a smile, “You don’t really have a choice here, Sweets. Unless you want to put that dress back on,” The idea of physically stuffing yourself into that piece of clothing again makes you shudder, “That’s what I thought. It’s just an old hoodie anyway, I don’t even wear it anymore.”

False. He won't admit it to you, but he always wears it and carries it with him everywhere. It's his comfort sweatshirt. To see you in his favourite hoodie and to smell like him - that's why Sunghoon chose it especially.

As you slip into the hoodie, unaware of its significance to him, you unknowingly envelop yourself in a piece of his world. The familiar scent of him lingers in the fabric, wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

Quickly, you put on the remaining clothes and search for your stuff, “I need to go to Rinas, she’s probably wondering where I am.” In your leather jacket, you feel around for your phone, anticipating missed calls from your best friend.

“She knows you’re here,” He picks up your phone from the floor and passes it to you, it must have fallen out when he carried you in here last night.

You look at him puzzled but still remember to thank him, “What do you mean? Rina would never have let you take me home,” you state. Rina saw the mess you were in because of him, and with him leathering into that guy, she would have dragged you away from him herself.

Sunghoon smiles triumphantly, “She didn’t have a choice. I told her you were going to mine and that she had to cover for you.”

“You told THE Yu Jimin what to do?” You were gagged at the thought, truly, your flabber had been gasted because no one tells Rina what to do, like ever, and if they did she would make sure they were never happy again.

He simply shrugs and steals a kiss, and then another before his lips linger for a little longer, enticing you to kiss him back. Once he feels your lips moving with his, he smirks, bringing his hand to cradle your jaw, his fingers in your hair. You probably shouldn’t be kissing like this either but you don’t care right now, not with how his lips taste against yours..

Sunghoon steps back after a few blissful minutes and asks, "Was that the right choice, or what?" When he walks away to change, the smile becomes a smirk as he thinks about the sex you’ve just had.

You check your phone for messages and there are a lot. One from Minhee, saying he had a great time and he was staying at Jungmo’s place. It was perfect because now you could sneak into the house without anyone knowing you were gone for the night. There are a few texts from your mum saying she’s going to the store and not to sleep all day. And then there was Rina.

Rina💗

4:12am: Y/N, text me when you get there.

4:33am: If he touches you I swear to fuck I will kill him.

5:02am: Please let me know if you got to his ok?

8:54am: GIRL WAKE UP.

9:01am: You never sleep in after drinking.

9:01am: ARE YOU FUCKING HIM RIGHT NOW?

9:02am: IF YOU FUCK HIM I AM NEVER SPEAKING TO YOU AGAIN

10:23am: I cannot believe you are fucking him! Get over here right now.

You don’t know how she knew you were fucking him at that time but you are never going to hear the end of it.

“What is she saying?” He asks, tying the string of his joggers.

“That if you touch me she’s going to kill you, and I’m basically in the bad books for fucking you.” He turns the phone to see the messages and laughs.

Sunghoon hadn’t encountered Rina until last night but he heard the rumours about her and her temper. He didn’t know it was that girl who was your best friend, he thought you might have run with a different crowd, a quieter one with less drama. Rina was the opposite of you, she’s loud and obnoxious, and that’s just from what he saw last night, but at least she looks after you. He knew it was out of order to bad mouth her and her boyfriend but he’s not sorry for it.

“Well then,” He circles his arms around you, “If I’m going to die at the hands of your best friend, I think I should get to fuck you one more time.” He leans down to kiss you but all you can do is laugh. He was just a man at the end of the day, a horny, needy man.

“I need to get to Rina’s.” You say between kisses but that’s not what he wants to hear, so he grumbles slightly, the pout of his lips only adding to the kiss. He doesn’t have to say anything, you know he’s upset that you won’t stay a little longer, “I know, Hoonie. But I’ll see you at the rink, yeah?”

“Want another Zamboni lesson? I can really show you how to pump the lever.” Playfully, you slap his chest and push him away. The look on his face is one of arrogance and it’s so sexy but you can’t let him know, it’ll only inflate his head more.

You grab your belongings while Sunghoon follows you around like a puppy, placing his hand on your ass as you bend down to put on your shoes. The clothes you are wearing are ludicrous, nonetheless, you can't go to Rina's place barefoot. Sunghoon's hand slides beneath your hoodie and gently rubs your back, but when you straighten up, both of his hands are suddenly on your skin, easing their way to your boobs.

He pinches both of your nipples, eliciting a moan. Your head falls back onto his shoulder as you let him fondle you, “Sunghoon, I honestly have to go.”

“I know, just give me a minute.” His fascination with your boobs is unhealthy but he just can’t get enough. If your pussy wasn’t so delicious they might take the number one spot for his favourite things on your body. True to his word, after a couple of minutes he lets you go, his hands now hanging sadly by his side, “C’mon I’ll drive you.”

“I can walk it’s fine.” It was a long walk but you could use the air, still hot from the hangover and taking Sunghoon’s cock.

His eyebrows raise and he crosses his arms, “In those heels, yeah?” His eyes point to your 6 inch shoes in bewilderment. People look great in heels but he will never understand how anyone walks more than 5 minutes in them.

You look down at your shoes with him and nod, “Yeah, it’s only like an hour or two walk or something, I’ll blast through it.”

“Not a chance. I’m driving you.” As you begin to protest he points to you, “Eh, no arguing about this, Sweets, I’m taking you to Karina’s.” Sunghoon always had a way of getting what he wanted, either from his charm or his stubbornness. You have no choice now but to agree, so you pick your stuff back up and follow him out of his room.

Just as you both exit, Jake stands with a towel wrapped around his waist and water droplets falling down his abs. Sunghoon tuts in disgust, “Dude, there’s a girl here.”

“Yeah, I think the whole block knows that.” Sunghoon warns Jake with his eyes to shut up, “I’m Jake, by the way, Sunghoon’s favourite roommate.” Jake sticks his arm out to give you a handshake which you gingerly accept.

“Y/N.”

“Yeah, knew that too. He’s just as loud.” Jake laughs and walks away, leaving you both filled with embarrassment.

You punch the boy beside you in the arm once Jake is out of sight, causing Sunghoon to yelp and rub his arm, “How could you not tell me you had roommates!” you whisper-shout up at him.

If you had known he lived with others, there's no way you would have been as loud as you were. Everyone has sex, so it's not a huge thing. However, you're not thrilled that Sunghoon neglected to mention his roommates, especially since you haven't even seen them before and their first impression of you is you moaning like you’re in the adult entertainment industry.

“I guess I was too busy fucking you senseless to think about them.” He earns another punch for that one, but he takes it in his stride, wrapping his arm around you, “C’mon, Sweets, if anything, you’ve started a competition on who can get their girl to scream loudest.”

With that, he kisses the crown of your head as he guides you out of the house and to his car.

taglist (closed!!): @heelee-01 @zerasari @beomgyusonlywife @iwaplant @monstanctiny21 @chiiiiiiiiis @minniejenseo @run2gyuz @jngwnlvs @haelahoops @capri-cuntz @nctislifue @jaehoonii @weyukinluv @skzenhalove @enhypenlovre @cherriruto @bambangan @who-tf-soddhi @nxzz-skz @nshmrarki @hotsforikeu @enhastolemyheart @erehkinnie30 @judeduartewannabe @neosexuals @fakeuwus @positivelyinlovewithjungwon @tobiosbbyghorl @kimsunoops

#enhypen smut #enha smut #sunghoon smut #park sunghoon smut #enhypen x reader #enha x reader #sunghoon x reader #melting point #aj writes #enhypen angst

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eelnoise · 7 months

Text

in my feels tonight so have some zoro fluff that i wrote to help 🤫

BTW i appreciate you guys so much. thanks for reading my silly fics 🫶🫶🫶

zoro x gn!reader (if I slip a pronoun in lmk!! I'm tired and it ain't proofread!!)

this fic has a sequel!!

Zoro wakes with a start. His right eye springing open and blinking several times to clear his vision. His chest is heaving and a light layer of sweat is damp against his skin as his groggy brain processes his surroundings.

Another nightmare.

Flashes of his past - times where he failed or disappointed had long haunted him, and recurring memories seemed to follow him even in sleep most nights.

It eats at him deeply, even if he doesn't show it on his face or in his demeanor. Years of grief and loss in the face of danger and battle has hardened Zoro, a stoic mask carved into his expression that hides his feelings and serves as a filter for unwanted emotions.

He has to stay strong, at least on a surface level. He has a crew to protect and a captain to aid - people who rely on and expect great things from him.

Zoro keeps his thoughts tightly wrapped, bottling them up in a way that only makes him spiral further into his own anguish.

A quiet and frustrated sigh passes through his lips, the hand at his side twisting into a fist in anger when he feels a head-sized weight on his chest and a much smaller arm draped around his middle.

It's you.

His heart leaps when he takes in your sleeping form. Your face is caught in the moonlight peering in through the window in his cabin, peaceful and relaxed in what Zoro hopes is a bliss filled slumber.

He wraps his arm around you, one hand coming to rest on your head as he begins to stroke your hair. A soft, lazy smile twitches at the sides of his mouth.

You're a reminder that life can feel more vivid - a light in the dark recesses of his mind. A reminder that even someone as cold and as rough as he seems to be is worthy of love.

Love - what a word to describe how he feels toward you.

It's something he'd never thought about having; something that always seemed so foreign and strange to him. Loving someone with your whole being was something he couldn't understand, devoting himself to something other than his dream, and this life of piracy didn't seem possible.

Zoro would die for his captain. He would and had taken on anyone who stood in Luffy's way on their journey. Left on death's door many times, Zoro could've gone out knowing that he'd done his part. It didn't matter if he lived or died as long as Luffy could live his dream.

But for you, he'll come back every time.

He has to live.

Just meeting you had ignited a flame he thought long dormant, the fire fanning into a greater blaze when you seemed to understand him, body and soul. And when you took his hand in yours that one fateful evening, your fingers entwining with his after a long conversation at midnight in the crow's nest - he had fallen head over heels.

He cherishes you in a way he had thought impossible. You know just how he ticks, and you always seem to be right there with open arms when he really needs you.

Words don't need to be exchanged to show the love between you - that isn't really his forte. You met this particular behavior with learned ones of your own, forgoing average public displays of affection and replacing them. A simple but gentle touch to his shoulder can anchor him. The quick brush of your hand next to his in passing always has a deeper and more unspoken meaning to it.

You know him like no other, and he makes sure to show you just how much he cares in the only ways he knows how.

Zoro presses his lips to the top of your head a few times, breathing in the scent of your hair with a warm smile. You hum even deep within your dreamy state and nuzzle your face closer to him, warm and safe in his tight embrace.

God, he loves you.

#one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #roronoa zoro x reader #one piece #roronoa zoro x y/n #ronoroa zoro #opla zoro

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natailiatulls07 · 7 months

Note

please more leclerc!reader with her brothers !!

Let her go

Arthur Leclerc Charles Leclerc Lorenzo Leclerc Pascale Leclerc & Leclerc!reader

Summary - Y/n is getting married and her older brothers is learning to let her go

Warning - Herve Leclercs death, poor translation of French

A/n - I know I haven't finished the golden trio but look I've been wanting to post a written fic for a while now and I have seen so many brothers first look tiktoks so thats what you're getting today!! 😚

2017

Herve Leclerc was on his last days when he called his three sons to his hospital room. "Papa? Is everything okay?" Lorenzo asked of his dying father.

"My three sons as you know I'm nearing my last day and I only have one thing to ask of you..." The three brother surrounded their fathers bed, Charles and Lorenzo sitting in seats on each side of the bed with Arthur sitting at the feet of the hospital bed. "I want you three to step up and take my place in protecting, caring and loving your sister"

Herve adored his sons equally but he had a different sort of adoration for his youngest. Since her birth, he has always thought of her as an angel. "Of course...we'll do anything you ask of us Papa" Charles answered his fathers orders, alike their father they also felt that level of undying adoration for their younger sister.

Charles had sat Y/n down on the plush couch in their Monte Carlo childhood home. "Chérie...Papa died last night" It broke the twenty year old's heart to see his sister find out about their fathers death. He could see her eyes gloss over and fill with salty tears.

He took her into his arms as she started to sob. "He loved you so much, and he said he will watch over us always..." He could feel himself breaking down at his sisters reaction. But Charles knew it was coming.

The twenty year old Monégasques knew it wouldn't be easy for anyone, not for their mother, not for him, Lorenzo, Arthur or her. But they would do what they always did, push through and come out stronger.

2023

Waking up today, all three of the Leclerc brothers knew it would be both a hard and joyous day for them. It was the day they would have to give away their sister, the sister they promised to their father they would cherish, protect and love in his place. But today they'd need to give her away to the love of her life.

They were staying in the childhood home, back in their childhood bedrooms. When planning her wedding with her fiancé, Y/n insisted they have it in Monte Carlo. Of course her fiancé agreed, knowing how she wanted to be close to her late father on her wedding day.

Getting out of his bed, Charles made his way down to the kitchen where Pascale and Lorenzo were sat eating breakfast. “Bonjour” He announced his presence before making a start on his coffee.

“So where is the bride?” Turning to look at his mother, Charles wondered how Y/n was feeling this special morning.

There was a audible sigh from Pascale. “Well your sister couldn’t sleep last night so I imagine she is currently still sleeping” Both Lorenzo and Charles had concerned looks on their faces.

Noticing their concern, Pacale continued "She couldn't sleep because she was too excited. Don't worry no cold feet" She knew every single one of her children, Pascale knew all too well that her three sons would be overly worried for their sister.

The two oldest sons just nodded, concern evidently gone.

There was a knock on the front door. Charles, who was talking with Arthur on the sofa, got up to answer the door. Behind the door stood, the maid of honour and the rest of the bridal party. "Hello Ladies, how can I help you?" Charles joked before stepping aside letting them in.

"We're here for the special bride, where might she be?" The maid of honour asked as she looked around the open plan kitchen and living room where Pascale, Arthur and Lorenzo currently sat. After hearing the question, Pascale quickly pointed up the stairs to which the excited party followed.

After watching the girls running upstairs, Charles moved to sit back down on the couch. As he sat down, all the Leclerc brothers and Pascale could hear was the sounds of excitement.

It had been a few hours since the bridal party arrived and everyone had now gotten ready. Standing on the balcony was Arthur, Lorenzo and Charles, all facing away from the balcony doors and more towards the Monte Carlo harbour.

Y/n insisted they do a first look for the brothers, so that’s why she was stood just behind her three older brothers. “Maman are you filming?” She asked of her mother who stood off to the side filming. Pascale nodded. “Okay, you guys can turn around now”

Turning around, each brother now faced their Y/n. She was dressed in her long white gown, hair done and makeup perfected. Tears welled up in their eyes, they could remember the day she was born and how they watched her grow up into the incredible woman.

“Oh chérie tu es si belle” Arthur was the first pipe up from their stunned state, walking towards her before bring her into a careful hug.

Soon enough Lorenzo followed, hugging his sister. “Je t'aime tellement petite princesse” Even now when she was just about to get married, he still used his nickname for her. The same nickname he has used since her birth.

After stepping aside, Charles was the last one to break his stunned state. “Cha Cha…?” Y/n called out for him, everyone knew he was the closest to her, that he loved her the most.

“Mon rayon de soleil…” Finally he stepped forward, taking her hands in his. “Je suis si fier de toi” Through his tears was a soft smile the same smile he had when Y/n started high school, when Y/n graduated and when Y/n was born.

The next question meant so much to Charles, even more than anything else. “Cha Cha…m'accompagner dans l'allée?” She was asking him to take their fathers place and walk her down the aisle before giving her away.

In that moment, he really felt like he had accomplished the one thing his father asked of him and that was to take his father place once he was gone.

Nodding aggressively, Charles crashed Y/n into a hug. “Oui oui oui bien sûr!”

#formula one #formula one x reader #formula two #formula two x reader #charles leclerc #arthur leclerc #lorenzo leclerc #charles leclerc x sister #arthur leclerc x sister #lorenzo leclerc x sister #charles lechair #lando norris #max verstappen #daniel ricciardo #carlos sainz #lewis hamilton #oscar piastri #ferrari racing

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allysunny · 2 months

Note

heyyy hope ur well <3 i looooove ur writing so much it’s amazing! i had a request for bruce if that’s ok 24 & 2 + a book i was reading gave me an idea lol so could the reader be in an unhealthy abusive toxic relationship and falls for bruce who treats her soooo well and loves her soooo much unlike who she is currently with (she could have a reason why she can’t leave her partner maybe she’s so scared) and bruce is there for her always protecting her looking out for her worrying about her spoiling her he he genuinely is in love with her and you can add all ur magic to it and all ur awesome ideas. anyway if it’s not something u think fit ur writing or u don’t have enough time don’t worry it’s totally ok :))))) <3 <3 have a great day xx

For the Better

“You light up even the darkest of days” + “Please don’t leave me” + Kiss on the lips x Bale!Bruce Wayne

Pairing: Bale!Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

Words: 22.1k words

Warnings: Abusive & toxic relationship, domestic violence, gaslighting, lying, manipulation, I'm talking really, really unhealthy relationship, angst, bruises and some blood, fluff, angst with happy ending, kissing, I literally don't know how else to tag this, but please read the warnings because this is a very fucked up relationship.

A/N: Hey everyone! This is the last entry for my 200 Followers Event. I want to thank everyone who participated and all those who showed their support. That means the world to me.

Now, oh my god. This is my magnum opus, I believe. It took me a whole week to write this. This fic is the apple of my eye, my baby, my sin, my soul, I would die for this. I think it's my best work so far. I have worked my ass off for this, I really have, and I have no words to convey just how special and dear this fic is to me.

I would also like to apologise if there are any inconsistencies - I started writing it last Monday and finished it Saturday, so it's been nearly a week and I might've forgotten small details as the days went on. I tried to proofread it!

I really hope you guys will enjoy it and cherish it as much as I did. <3

To Bruce, you were the most gorgeous woman in the entire world.

Your eyes could rival even the brightest star in the sky, the sun did not hold a candle to how radiant your smile was, and no flower could compare to your beautiful. You were simply gorgeous, inside, and out.

Unfortunately, you weren’t his.

Bruce had met you during a charity event. Some wealthy couple was raising funds for the Gotham Police Department (even though Bruce did not believe half of them deserved such charity), and he had of course been invited. The couple in question could not care less about philanthropy – they were merely trying to appear that way. That’s Gotham, for you.

You’d been waitressing during the event, carrying trays of hors-d'œuvre and champagne, smiling politely at guests and trying to do your job the best you could. You’d walked by him twice, and although you weren’t really paying attention to the guests (you were far more preoccupied with not tripping and making a scene), he couldn’t take his eyes off you.

He was so mesmerised, that he found himself searching for you whenever he wasn’t talking to anyone else. Sometimes when you returned to the kitchen, he saw you talking to your coworkers, smiling, and giggling about.

After a few hours of being bored to death by patrons with faux smiles and untrue compliments, he was ready to call it a night and return to the loneliness of his mansion – and that’s when you caught his attention.

Or rather, everyone’s attention.

You’d bumped into someone’s shoulder (it was actually someone’s shoulder who had bumped into you) and spilled the tray of appetisers on top of an old man who wasn’t pleased with the situation. The man, who he recognised as Charles Carnegie – a crooked businessman famous for his dabbles with illegal gambling and corruption – yelled at you, insulting you with every name in the book. The man was just about to raise his hand, no doubt to strike you across your face, when Bruce intervened, rushing between the two of you and gripping the man’s arm.

Charles looked up in confusion and his turbulent eyes widened in recognition.

“Mr. Wayne!” he exclaimed, voice dripping with anger, “Let go of me this instant. Did you not see what happen? This foolish girl was not paying attention and spilled her tray all over me. I do not know how such incompetent staff can be hired. Someone ought to teach this insubordinate brat a lesson!”

Bruce’s hold on the man’s arm only tightened. How dare he speak to you like that? You were standing behind him, head hung low and muttering a string of apologies that were barely audible.

“Mr. Carnegie, if anyone here deserves to be taught a lesson, it is you.” He said, eyes narrowing. “Your inebriation and inability to watch where you’re going is not this woman’s fault. If you cannot behave at a public function, perhaps you shouldn’t think of attending. This server is not at fault, and you will apologize to her.”

The older man scoffed and tried stepping away from Bruce’s grip but failing.

“How dare you! Mr. Wayne, this – this – this harlot bumped into me! My suit is ruined, and she has insulted my dignity. Let go of me this instant, Mr. Wayne, or else – “

“Or else what?” Bruce asked, his voice dropping to a whisper, audible only to the man standing in front of him. “We are currently surrounded by the police our hosts were so kind to fundraise for. The entire Gotham Police Department is here, and while I know that most of them are corrupt scum like you, I am also familiar with the ones who would be more than overjoyed to throw you into jail for illegal gambling, embezzlement of funds and propositioning. I can ruin you with nothing short of three sentences, and you can bet that should you not apologize to the young woman standing behind me, I will.”

The colour drained from Charles’s face, and he stuttered, trying to come up with a decent response. It was no secret that the Carnegies were a powerful family. But the Waynes were almost royalty, and everyone in Gotham would rather swallow their whole fist than get into their bad graces. Especially Bruce Wayne’s. Surely, a man who showed up to every social function with not only a new car but a gorgeous new woman on his arm, wasn’t afraid to pull a few strings to get what he wanted – even if that meant ruining someone’s life.

“I – I – Mr. Wayne, how dare you – “

“Apologize to the young lady, or I will personally make sure all your belongings are gone by the time this godforsaken party is over. You’ll be sleeping on the floor before you can threaten me or anyone else again.”

Charles stuttered a few more times, before gulping and nodding. Bruce released his arm, and the man was quick to hold his wrist, twisting it a few times. Who would’ve known the Wayne orphan had such a death grip?

He looked up and Bruce moved out of his way to partially reveal you, yet still close enough to protect you should Charles decide to hurt you further.

“I – I am…” he stumbled over his words, shaking his head. “My apologies, Miss. My behaviour was… It was unacceptable. I am sorry for my lack of attention, and for bumping into you. I hope you can accept my most sincere apologies.” The words sounded scared – not necessarily genuine but scared – and they almost made Bruce smirk.

“It’s alright,” you muttered, eyes still fixated on the floor. “Don’t worry about it.”

Bruce wrinkled his nose at how meek you sounded and looked around himself. The situation had turned rather awkward – people were staring in his direction and murmuring to themselves. So, he did the only thing plausible.

“Ladies and gentlemen, why are we standing here, when the caviar has just been served?” he exclaimed loudly, plastering on his most charming Bruce Wayne smile, which had the guests immediately react, answering with soft chuckles of their own. “Our lovely police force should be honoured the right way – but that doesn’t mean they should get all the good food for themselves!”

The crowd that had formed around you three quickly dissipated, and so did Bruce’s smile when he finally got a good look at you. You were down on your knees, picking up your tray and trying to pick up some of the appetisers to clean up your mess a bit.

“Hey,” he chided softly to get your attention. “Hey, please, look at me.”

When you didn’t, he kneeled down next to you.

That’s when he saw you. Truly saw you.

Your face was puffy, eyes red and wet with tears that you’d tried your best to wipe away. You looked nervous and miserable, and all Bruce wanted to do was bring you close and make you feel better.

“Sir, I – he was right,” you mumbled, shaking your head, trying your best to clean up the floor with nothing but your bare hands and the napkin you carried on your arm. “I bumped into him. You shouldn’t have gone through all that trouble.”

“I saw him,” Bruce replied softly. “He bumped into you. And even if he hadn’t, it did not mean he had the right to hit you. I was not going to let him do it.”

You nodded and sighed, wiping your tears with the sleeve of your arm.

“I caused you all that trouble. I’m really sorry. Shit, I feel terrible. I ruined that man’s suit and made such a mess… Nathan would mock me to hell and back if he saw me like this…” this caused the dam to break, and you wept loudly. Bruce did not really know what to do. What did one do whenever a woman was crying? He’d had a few one-night-stands in which the women cried once they realised he wanted nothing more to do with them, but they usually left by themselves, claiming he was a “heartless jerk”, and that was the rest of it.

He took the napkin from your hands and offered you a reassuring smile.

“If it makes you feel better that man deserved it. Charles Carnegie is a well-known corrupt and needed a reality check. If I could, I would’ve probably done that on purpose.”

This earned a soft chuckle from you, and you stood up, Bruce following right after.

“I’m going to call someone to take care of this.” You said, to which Bruce nodded.

“I’ll come with you.”

“There’s really no need for that, it’s okay – “

“Nonsense. That old jerk might try to follow you and threaten you again. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

You nodded, and quickly made your way towards the kitchen, where you asked for someone’s help. They were quick to reply, and within a few minutes, the whole place was spotless, and no one could tell anything had happened if they looked at the floor.

As soon as it was done, you turned to Bruce and offered him a small smile.

“Thank you very much, Mr. Wayne. What you did back there was very kind. I don’t even know how I could ever repay you.”

Bruce lifted a hand and shook his head.

“There’s no need to repay me. I’m just happy I could help.”

You nodded sheepishly, and extended your hand, telling him your name.

“It’s very nice to meet you.”

Bruce shook it and his hold may have lingered on yours for a tad longer than what would have been acceptable, before tasting your name on his lips.

“It’s a lovely name. I’m Bruce. Wayne.”

“Yes – I gathered. Everyone knows you,” you chuckled.

“Sometimes I wish they didn’t.” He confided.

“I’m not sure that’s for the best. Being invisible has its downsides, I’m afraid.”

You gave him his number, and the two began to talk rather quickly, even going as far as deciding to gather for ice-cream about two weeks after your initial meeting. He texted you, saying he knew of a fantastic ice-cream parlour next to his company’s building, and invited you. You’d agreed almost instantly, replying with a bunch of emojis – and that’s how you found yourself next to Bruce Wayne, eating ice-cream. You’d gotten a lemon flavoured scoop, while Bruce went for mint.

“I was surprised you wanted to meet up!” You said, beaming up at him once you had paid for your sweet treat. Or rather, after Bruce had paid for it. He insisted, telling you he couldn’t possibly let a lady pay. You made him promise he’d let you pay next time, to which he replied, “We’ll see”.

“Really?” He replied. “Why is that?”

“Well, you’re Bruce Wayne. Don’t you have like, I don’t know, a bazillion cars to drive, and a bunch of models to date, and lots of money to spend? Why’d you invite me to ice-cream?”

“I’m spending my money on ice-cream,” he gave you a cheeky smirk.

“That’s not what I meant.” You chuckled and ate a spoonful of the treat in your hand.

“To be honest, my day was going terribly. I needed some fresh air, and you seemed like good company.” He was being as honest as he could. His day at Wayne Enterprises was going terribly, with a bunch of investors trying to go behind his back and steal some of his money. It had been a hassle, but thankfully all had been taken care of. He needed something to distract him from the stress.

“Oh, tell me about it,” you groaned, rolling your eyes. “The restaurant today was hellish. It was as if Satan had spawned a hundred different little devil women to make my day worse.” You told him about all the “Karens” that had bothered you, insisting you’d gotten their order wrong, when they were simply too drunk to function (even though it was around midday), complaining about how weird their food tasted, or even going as far as telling you they did not like the decoration. It made your blood boil, but a girl needed to pay her bills, so you sucked it up.

Bruce chuckled at your descriptions of the acts you’d like to perform to those women – none of them very family friendly – and found it rather cute when you decided to deal with your frustrations by scooping a large spoonful of your lemon flavoured ice-cream. You moaned in delight once the soft food melted on your tongue and smiled.

“Nathan would just freak out if he tried these,” you said, “He’s a sucker for good ice-cream.”

Bruce’s brow quirked quizzically. Nathan? The name sounded oddly familiar coming from your lips, but he couldn’t quite tell why. You seemed to notice his expression because you were quick to continue.

“My boyfriend. I’ve mentioned him before, remember? I think I mentioned at the party too.” You hummed and ate another spoonful of ice-cream, groaning once again. “This is good. Really good. Wow.”

“Ah. Yes, your boyfriend.” Bruce nodded. He couldn’t say he wasn’t disappointed. Sure, he’d only known you for two weeks, and you had told him about Nathan early on (he simply decided to ignore that) but he’d be lying if he said the thought of more than just a friendship hadn’t crossed his mind. It was only natural, and he considered himself to be an efficient man, who went for what he wanted – well, almost. Batman had made that a tad impossible, but Bruce was still figuring it out.

“Mhm!” You exclaimed excitedly. “Nathan and I have been dating for a few years. We’re actually close to four!” You quickly told him how you and Nathan had met, something you surprisingly had not done before. You’d been accompanying a friend of yours to the ER after someone had spilled a pan of burning hot oil on top of her. The Emergency Room Doctor, Nathan Smith, had taken care of her very quickly, but it was on you he had his eyes during the entire appointment. After the both of you had thanked him, and your friend had a bandaged arm, he’d stopped you in your tracks and politely asked if you would give him your number. You couldn’t lie to yourself – he was handsome, with dirty blonde hair and blue eyes, and a kind smile, and you swore he could’ve been a model if he wanted to. So, you had said yes.

“And the rest was history,” you finished. “We’ve been together ever since.”

Bruce hummed and busied himself with taking another spoonful of mint ice cream to his lips. “I see,” he hummed. “Well, I hope everything goes well with your relationship. He sounds nice.”

“He really is. I love him.” There were stars in your eyes, and while part of Bruce scowled, unhappy with this man he had never met before, another wanted to smile, because you did seem like a lovely girl, and he did want to see you happy.

After that day, you and Bruce became close friends.

He got to know you. You worked a job at a two Michelin star restaurant, waiting tables. That’s how you’d heard of the charity gala gig – word spread around that a rich couple was looking to hire some servers, and you’d applied in the hopes of making a few extra bucks.

He learned that you were a very resilient person, not at all like the way you’d appeared that day at the gala. You’d told him you were simply having a terrible day, with a few costumers yelling in your face during your regular shift. Charles Carnegie doing the same thing at night was the straw that broke the camel’s back and seemed to break you.

He got to know all your hobbies, and the things you liked to do for fun. Learned all your favourite books, the movies you liked to watch when you were down, the snacks you liked to munch on whenever your day went sour. He learned what made you tick, and the things that inspired you. You told him about your family – the relatives you loved, those you were close with, and the ones that simply did not deserve to be in your life anymore.

Every time you disclosed some piece of information about your life, Bruce drank it all up. He wanted to know you, all of you. He listened whenever you complained to him about work, whenever you texted him with any sort of happy news, or when you called him late at night because you felt lonely. It had been so long since Bruce had someone to call his friend, and he loved every bit of it. He knew he wasn’t the first person you came to whenever you wanted to talk. Part of him wished he was your first choice, but he saw the look in your eyes whenever you mentioned Nathan.

And speaking of, he even got to meet said Nathan.

A few weeks after your second meeting, the one where you’d gone out for ice-cream, Bruce decided to surprise you by having a meal at the restaurant you worked at. He asked for a table, and specifically asked for you as his server. The owner was clearly surprised; not only did he not expect Bruce Wayne of all people to have dinner at his restaurant, but he also wasn't expecting him to ask for a specific server. Especially one that seemed as insignificant as you. Bruce assured him it was vital that he had you as his server, and the man quickly relented, happy to tend to the billionaire’s every need.

“Hi, welcome to La Lune d'Argent. My name is – “ Before you could continue, you looked up and a grin spread across your face. “Bruce! What are you doing here?”

“Having dinner. What does it look like?” He replied with a smile.

“You could've told me you were coming! I’d have gotten you the best table.”

“This one is just fine, I promise. And letting you know in advance would sort of ruin the purpose of a surprise, don't you think?”

“You wanted to surprise me?” Heat rushed to your cheeks, and you shook your head, trying to get rid of it. Not only did you have a boyfriend, but you were also at your workplace and needed to remain professional. “Thank you. That’s very nice.”

Bruce smiled once again, before opening the menu in front of him and eyeing it.

“What do you recommend?” He asked.

“Well, the Seared Scallops with Truffle Risotto are our specialty. The Lobster Thermidor is also really good, and so are the Stuffed Shrimp with Crabmeat. But if you’re not in the mood for fish, then I recommend the Chateaubriand and the Filet Mignon. The Tournedos Rossini is a costumer favourite, but I’ve tried it and don’t think it’s all that.”

Bruce nodded, before going over the wine section.

“And the wine?”

“It depends. If you pick any of the fish dishes, then you should go with the Chardonnay or the Prosecco. If you go for the meat, then you should most likely enjoy a glass of Cabernet or Merlot. There’s plenty more, but I’m I wouldn’t be of any help with those. I’m terrible when it comes to wine.” You recited, the words spilling naturally from your lips – you’d done this a thousand times.

“That’s okay. Well then, how about I have the Foie Gras Terrine and the Truffle Risotto Croquettes as appetisers, and for the main dish, I’d like the Chateaubriand if possible. I’d also like a side of salad. As for the wine, I trust the owner’s good judgment. Cabernet it is.” He waited until you were done writing everything down and handed you the menu.

“Anything else?” You asked, taking it, and tucking it under your arm.

“Is your company too much to ask for?” He offered you a smile.

“Some of us have to actually work, Mr. Wayne,” you joked and stuck your tongue out playfully, “I’ll have your appetisers here in a minute.”

Dinner went well. The food was stellar (there was after all a reason the restaurant had two Michelin stars), the wine lived up to the expectations, and your company – or rather, the small moments you managed to spare him – warmed his heart. You offered him small quips about your work, told him about the usual costumers that sat on their usual tables and had their usual meals, gossiped about those you didn't like. It felt nice, to have a good time at work. You didn't completely hate your job, no, and some days were definitely fun thanks to your coworkers or any sort of shenanigans that happened during your shifts, but it could get boring and lonely and upsetting. Bruce being there was a nice change, and a welcome one.

“When does your shift end?” He asked, after he’d eaten a nice slice of cheesecake for dessert.

“In about half an hour, I believe. I have an early night today.”

“I’ll wait for you then.”

“Oh, you really don’t have to, Bruce – “

“Nonsense. Do you have a ride home?”

“I’ll just take the train.”

“I'll give you a ride then.”

“Bruce, that’s seriously not necessary – “

You were interrupted by the voice of your boss, calling out your name in an accusatory tone. “Do I pay you to sit around and talk to costumers?”

You sighed and nodded towards Bruce.

“Thank you. A ride home would be nice.”

He waited until you were done, paid for his meal and left you a nice tip, and then waited outside. You took a few minutes, but soon enough you were walking towards him, wrapped around in a comfortable looking jacket.

“You ready to go?” you asked before a voice called out.

“Babe?”

You turned around, and your eyes widened before softening at the sight before them. “Nate!” You smiled, making your way to him, and hugging him tightly. Nate hugged you back just as tight, but his eyes did not leave the tall man that had been by your side.

“Who is this?” He asked, discontent clear in his voice.

“Oh!” You turned to face Bruce, arm linked with Nathan’s. “This is Bruce! I told you about him, remember? He’s my friend.”

“You did tell me about your friend. You did not mention your friend was the Bruce Wayne.”

“Well, that’s because he’s not the Bruce Wayne to me. He’s just Bruce.” You smiled, and Nathan didn't seem too pleased once Bruce extended his hand.

“Bruce Wayne.” He spoke. Nathan shook his hand, steel-like eyes taking the taller man in, his expensive clothes and pulled-together appearance.

“Nathan Smith. So, you’re my girl’s friend, is that right?” He asked, pulling you closer by the waist. It wasn't hard to miss the jealous look in his face, and Bruce decided to ease the guy’s mind a bit, not wanting to get into any trouble. And not wanting to get you into any trouble.

“Yes, that’s right. I’ve heard a lot about you, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Yeah? That’s funny because she’s barely said a word about you.” Nathan replied, offering Bruce a tight-lipped smile, and turning to you. “I came here to surprise you. Heard you were getting an early night, wanted to give you a lift home. Maybe we can make up for lost time? I miss you.” It did not take an idiot to see what the hell he was getting at, and it made your duck your head slightly, clearly embarrassed.

“That’s very kind of you, thank you. I loved the surprise.” You faced Bruce once again and offered him an apologetic smile. “Nate will take me home, if that’s fine by you.”

“Fine by him? What's this got to do with him?” Your boyfriend asked, chuckling dryly, and giving you a not so amused look.

“Bruce had offered to take me home. It was kind of him, so I said yes.”

“Yes, yes, very kind.” Nathan turned to Bruce too. “As you can see, your help is no longer needed. I’ll be taking my girlfriend home now.” He said the words with a sneer, happy to claim you as his.

“Yes, well. Thank you for taking care of her.”

“Oh, I do.”

You looked awkwardly in between both men and cleared your throat moving away from your boyfriend to envelop Bruce in a hug.

“Thank you for the surprise. It was really nice. And thanks for the offer too. The ride back home one. I’ll see you some other day?”

“Absolutely,” He replied and turned to leave.

As he walked away, he could hear Nathan’s voice and how accusatory it sounded.

“Surprise? What was that all about? Why was that guy visiting you at work?”

“He’s a friend, Nate. He just wanted to stop by.”

“Oh yeah? And what business does he have just stopping by? He’s not your boyfriend. I am.”

“He’s just a friend, Nate. I promise. Let's just go home, please? I miss you.”

Bruce was inside his car before he could properly make out whatever Nathan had replied to you, but he could tell it was nothing good.

The next time Bruce saw you, you were sitting by yourself at a coffee shop, having an iced drink and reading a book. He thought about approaching you but decided against it. You looked peaceful, and he didn't want to upset you should you not want to see him after the whole ordeal with your boyfriend went down.

But he was pleasantly surprised when he heard your voice call his name, and your hand beckoning him to come closer.

“Hey! I had no idea you came to this place. Wanna sit next to me?” You asked, moving your bag out of the chair in front of you, making space for him,

“Sometimes, on my lunch break. I take it today is your day off?”

“Mhm! Got today all to myself. I was supposed to spend it with Nathan, but we kind of fought so I decided to get some fresh air myself. You know, just to clear my head.” You said the words “kind of fought” as if they meant nothing, as if fighting with your boyfriend was a daily occurrence. He didn't like that.

“I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?” Bruce sat down in front of you, placing his own coffee on the table.

“Nah, not really. That’s just who Nate is. He gets upset sometimes, and I have to put some space in between us. No big deal. What about you? What are you up to?”

“Well, like I mentioned, this was supposed to be my lunch break, but I took the afternoon off. Alfred – my butler – is supposed to come pick me up later. It’s the anniversary of my parents’ marriage. I want to visit their graves.”

Your eyes softened and you placed a hand on top of his. Your palm felt warm on top of his, and Bruce immediately turned his hand so he could slot his fingers in between yours.

“I’m sorry.” Was all you said. After all, what more could you? Everyone knew Bruce Wayne’s story, but you did not want to seem presumptuous and assume you knew all about him. “I’m sure they’ll appreciate it.”

“Me too,” Bruce replied quietly, his voice thick with emotion, the way it usually was whenever he mentioned his parents. He didn't speak about them to many people, but let his facade slip completely for those he did trust enough.

“Is it okay if I come with?” You asked, and immediately regretted it. Why would you ask such a thing? Why would he even allow you to attend such a private thing with him? It was dumb, really. Before you could take your words back though, he replied, eyebrow quirked.

“Really?”

You shrugged sheepishly.

“Sure. It sounds tough, and I don’t want you to suffer all by yourself. You tend to do that.”

It was true. Bruce often hid his feelings, his emotions, shielding them from everyone. It hadn’t been that long since you two had started talking – maybe one or two months – but you could already tell he was very selective with the people he trusted. And how could he not be? You wanted to be someone he could trust, though. Wanted to be someone he could rely on, help him shoulder all his burdens.

Bruce thought it over for a bit. It would be nice to have some company. Visiting his parents’ grave was a very personal and intimate thing, yes, but he considered you a friend, and he’d be lying if he said he didn't want your company. He was sure both his father and his mother would've liked you, would've enjoyed your sense of humour and appreciated his kindness. So why not?

“I would appreciate that,” he said, and you smiled. “Won't it be a problem with Nathan?”

“Don't worry about him. He’s not the boss of me, and I'm not doing anything wrong.”

That’s how you found yourself, standing in front of the graves of Thomas and Martha Wayne, the beautiful Wayne Manor just ahead.

“I’m sure they loved each other very much,” you said, eyes not leaving the carved stones in front of you.

“They did.” Bruce agreed with a nod. “My father would bring my mother flowers nearly every day. She used to joke about having her own private flower shop thanks to him. He never stopped though. He’d bring her different flowers according to her mood. That’s just how he was. Always looking out for her. He could tell whenever she was sad, or happy, or worried.”

“What an amazing husband,” you smiled, picturing the late Thomas Wayne reading his wife and choosing flowers accordingly.

“And my mother was just as amazing as him. She could tell when he had had a bad day at the hospital. I never could – she used to tell me she could sense it in the first few steps he took whenever he arrived home. Whenever he felt down, she’d help Alfred make his favourite meal. He didn't have to ask, she simply did it out of the goodness of her heart, and all her love for him.”

“It must've been incredible to be surrounded by such love. You were very lucky, Bruce. And I'm sure your parents loved you just as much as they loved each other, if not even more.”

You smiled up at him and he offered you a small smile in return. You were right. He had been lucky to have experienced such love and affection at a young age. It made him realise the kind of relationship he wanted to be with and taught him the kind of partner he should be.

He was just about to speak when your phone started chiming.

“Sorry – forgot to mute it,” you mumbled, turning the sound off. It didn't do anything to quiet it down though, since it just kept vibrating in your pocket. You huffed and turned it on, brows furrowing in confusion, and then relaxing.

“It’s Nate,” you said, not looking up from the screen, “He’s apologising for our fight. Says he was in a very bad emotional state. Poor thing… He’s very self-conscious, you know. Keeps telling me he’s too lucky to have me, that I could have anyone in the world, but I settled for him. He always thinks he’s not good enough for me, that I'll leave him for someone else” You chuckled dryly, before continuing, “He couldn't be farther from the truth, though. I’m the lucky one.” You looked up and Bruce and pointed to the phone in your hand. “I should probably go. Nate wants to apologise in person, and I should probably talk to him.”

Bruce nodded and pointed to the limo standing near the street.

“Alfred will take you home.”

“Thanks.” You smiled up and him and moved forward to hug him. Bruce softened immediately. You slotted perfectly against him, and he felt like a piece of a puzzle that had just found its matching half. Unfortunately, you pulled away, taking all the warmth with you.

“I’ll see you some other time,” you said, walking away.

Once you were out of his view, he turned to his parents.

Perhaps someday he’d be able to love you like they loved each other.

Bruce was working when he received a text from you. It had been a few days since you’d visited his parents’ grave with him, and you hadn't spoken face-to-face since. You’d been texting non-stop though, telling each other about your day, sending pictures of your respective meals, or just sharing funny anecdotes or pictures you saw online that reminded you of each other. Bruce clicked on the notification with your name.

Look at this!

[1 file attached]

Clicking on the picture, he could see your radiant face, partially hidden by a huge bouquet of roses. They did nothing to steal the shine from you though, and Bruce cringed at how they paled in comparison to your beauty. He was quick to shoot back a reply,

They look pretty. Secret admirer?

You were even quicker to reply.

They’re from Nate, as an apology! Isn't he the sweetest? He’s been spoiling me rotten. I don't think I deserve it.

Bruce’s stomach twisted at the mention of your boyfriend. His fingers flew across the screen as he typed.

You deserve that, and much more.

You replied with a smiley face, and that was the end of your conversation for the day.

It was hard to get back to work after that, his thoughts plagued with you. Your nice smile, your kind words, the way you fit perfectly against the shape of his body and how tightly you’d hugged him back on the Manor grounds. He knew it was wrong to want you - you were dating someone else, and it’s not like you knew each other for a long time, but he couldn't help it.

Bruce took a deep breath, and gulped down an entire glass of water, before chastising himself and focusing on whatever task he had left to complete.

It didn't work, and Lucius found him staring at the screen of his phone for a good five minutes, before deciding his boss probably deserved a break from his somewhat incessant teasing.

After that, you met up with Bruce a few more times.

You’d meet up sometimes for lunch or a late afternoon snack, and you’d even had breakfast together once. You chalk it up to friendly outings, and so does Bruce (although he’s sadder than you to admit that). Unfortunately, these meetings were not filled with chatter about your lives, motivations, and dreams for the future. Instead, you worried your pretty little head off thinking about Nathan, who didn’t text you for hours, seemingly pushing away from you, only to give you mixed signals the next day and apologising for his behaviour. Bruce could see how draining it was, could see how you always glanced at your phone whenever the two of you were together, and how you seemed to walk on eggshells whenever Nathan called you.

Things would get harder for the two of you at night – Bruce was out patrolling the city as Batman, something he had not and would never tell you – and you sometimes you got lonely. Bruce simply told you he was busy, and you in good faith, believed him. After all, he was a busy man, running a busy company, leading a busy life. You were lucky enough he managed to spend some time with you during the week.

Bruce had become your closest friend. You loved hanging out with him. It was like he got you. He was a great listener, always providing you with great insight whenever you asked for it, or simply being a shoulder to cry on if you wanted to. He would give you solid advice, support you on (nearly) every decision and all of your hobbies, encouraging you to seek out new experiences and the things you’ve always wanted to do but were never brave enough to.

One day, the two of you were meeting up for coffee. You had your legs tucked under yourself, grabbing a warm mug with both of your hands. You loved this café; loved the ambient, the fluffy pillows and couches, the vast choice of drinks. It was your own special little corner, and you were happy to bring Bruce along.

You two were in a middle of a conversation about your favourite books, before your phone buzzed. You decided to ignore it, but it just buzzed again. And again. And again. A bunch of texts messages started coming through, and as you picked up your phone, it started ringing.

“It’s Nate,” you mumbled, accepting the call, and mouthing a small “sorry” to Bruce, who nodded.

“Hey honey,” you said. Bruce could make out your boyfriend’s voice from the other side of the line, and he could tell he wasn’t pleased.

“Where the hell are you!?” he heard Nathan say, and you involuntarily flinched in your seat, frowning.

“I’m at a café. I told you this, didn’t I?” you asked.

“Yeah, well, Ricky just texted me saying he saw you sitting with some other guy. What the fuck is going on?”

“Another guy?” you mumbled, “Nate, I’m with Bruce. We’re out for coffee, that’s all.”

Bruce heard Nathan scoff, and his fists curled on his lap. He was just glad you couldn’t see it.

“Ah, of course. Fucking Bruce. It’s always him, isn’t it?”

This seemed to get you riled up.

“I asked you if you wanted to come with me, and you told me no. You said you had better things to do and hated this place,” you shook your head, brows furrowing in anger. “So, I invited a friend. I’m allowed to have other friends, you know.”

“Yeah, sure. And it had to be a guy? You had to invite a guy out for coffee? Just the two of you?”

You curled into yourself and away from Bruce, lowering your voice.

“Nate, if you cancel on me, I’m going to invite other people. It’s just Bruce.”

“That guy’s trying to get into your fucking pants, and you know it, and you keep encouraging him. How does that make me feel, huh? Knowing you’re out there with some other douche who wants to jump your bones?” Bruce wanted nothing more than to seek out the asshole you were dating and beating him to a pulp. How he even dared to speak to you like that was beyond him, but he decided to say nothing. At least not yet.

“Nate, I don’t like it when you talk to me like this. He’s just a friend, I told you, you have no reason to be jealous – “

“Yeah sure. Don’t bother coming home.”

And he hung up.

Bruce eyed you, the way your pretty eyes welled up with tears and how you quickly wiped them away, throwing your phone and belongings to the purse sitting next to you.

“I – I’m sorry, Bruce, I – I need to go. I have to sort this out with him.” You mumbled, standing up. Bruce, however, was quicker, and stood in front of you, blocking your path.

He furrowed his brows and spoke in a low voice as not to startle you.

“He shouldn’t talk to you like this.”

“He’s right. I know he is – I know he’s got low-self-esteem issues, he’s just worried is all. He’s afraid to lose me, I know he is.” You said these words like a mantra, and Bruce wondered just how long you’d been repeating them to yourself. It made his heart ache. He reached out to wipe your tears, but you took a step back, shaking your head.

“I’m sorry for cutting our meeting short, Bruce,” you mumbled. “I’ll see you later.”

And you were out of his sight.

“Hang out?” Bruce asked, balancing his phone between his ear and his shoulder as he shaved.

“Yeah!” he could hear your excited voice on the other side, and it made him smile. “It’ll be just me and Nate and some more friends. I know how you are with strangers, so you don’t have to come if you don’t want to, but I thought it’d be nice if you were out of your house for once. You spend all those nights working, you’ve gotta learn to have fun!”

It was partially true. He did spend all these nights working. Just not a very conventional job. In fact, he’d been spending the last few weeks looking into Nathan Smith. His past, his present, and making assumptions on his future. He had all eyes on this douche.

“Bruce? Are you there?” you called, “Look, I’m sorry. I know you’re not a fan of other people – “

“I’ll be there.” He said curtly, blade gliding against his smooth skin. “Just text me the details and I’ll meet you there.”

“Really?” you let out a squeal of excitement and Bruce nearly cut himself with the sound. He realised then just how much he wanted you to be like that all the time. Happy. Excited.

“Really.”

“Okay – okay! I’ll let you know where and when! I can’t wait to see you again! I have to go now though, my shift’s about to start. See you soon, yes?” You hung up and Bruce chuckled to himself. He couldn’t wait to see you either. He wasn’t, although, very eager to see Nathan. But for your sake, he’d be on his best behaviour.

You met a few days after the phone call, at a local bar.

It was bustling with people and energy. Loud music was being played on speakers, the whole place smelled of cheap beer, and the people’s noise was deafening. Still, he overlooked all of that just for the sheer pleasure of hanging out with you.

“Bruce!” You called out, getting up from your spot near the counter and hurrying to meet him halfway. You hugged him tightly and he once again felt like you were meant to be in his arms forever. When you pulled away, he smiled. “You made it!” You were wearing an off-the-shoulder top and a pair of shorts decorated with small lace at the bottom. But Bruce couldn’t care less about what you were wearing – you always looked radiant.

“Of course I did.”

“Here, come meet my friends!”

You dragged him to a small group of people and introduced him to everyone. He was expecting more and was glad to find it was only you plus 4 others. Nathan was still on his way, you told him.

All of you kept light conversation for a while. Bruce did not really try to keep up with your friends’ conversations. One of them kept rubbing herself all up against him, giggling and obviously trying to get herself into his good graces. She was clearly only interested in his money, and Bruce had to excuse himself a few times just to get away.

After a few minutes, your head turned and you smiled, standing up to greet someone.

Nate.

“Hey honey!” You smiled, lifting your head to kiss him on the lips. Nathan quickly scanned the table, and once his eyes fell on Bruce, he scowled, one hand coming down to grip your waist, and the other to give you a light squeeze on your ass cheek (which made Bruce cringe and want to punch this jerk to next Sunday).

“Hello. Didn’t know we’d be having so much company,” the doctor sneered, eyes lingering on the Wayne billionaire.

“Well, if you don’t like me meeting up with friends on my own, I thought we could all meet up. Isn’t it a nice solution?” you smiled, but Nate didn’t seem to care about it. How dare he, Bruce thought. If you were his, he would never overlook your smile. Never. But she’s not yours, a tiny voice whispered inside his head.

Nate then turned to you, eyeing you up and down. His eyes lingered on your exposed collarbone and shoulders, and on the shorts that adorned your pretty legs. He sneered.

“And what the fuck is this?” he asked with a scoff.

“Hm?”

“What the fuck are you wearing?”

“Oh! These are new!” you spun in your place, showing off your outfit. “Do you like them? I thought the lace details were super cute – “

“So you’re wearing this out?” Nate crossed his arms, visibly upset. “Seriously? Don’t you think it’s a bit too revealing?”

It wasn’t, really. The top, even if it was off-the-shoulder, did not expose your cleavage too shockingly. The shorts weren’t too short either, covering just the right amount of skin. And even if the clothes were too short (which they weren’t), Bruce thought Nathan should just mind his fucking business.

“You think so?” your smile was quickly replaced by a pout, and you looked down at your clothes self-consciously.

“Yes, I fucking think so. I don’t understand why you feel the need to dress like that, show that much skin. People might get the wrong idea.”

“What wrong idea? Nate, they’re just clothes. There’s nothing wrong with them.”

The atmosphere had become tense. Your friends were all giving each other knowing looks but kept to themselves. Bruce didn’t have the heart to simply stand there and watch though. He put an arm in between you and Nathan and spoke calmly.

“Look, I think she should be allowed to wear whatever she wants. It’s not like she’s naked – “

“Stay the hell out of this, rich guy. I couldn’t care less what you think, this is not your relationship, and she is my girlfriend.”

Bruce looked at you, but you seemed to be avoiding his gaze, eyes fixated on Nathan.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think they were that revealing when I tried them on. I just liked how they looked on me.”

“Yeah, well, I’m fucking embarrassed to be seen with you when you dress like that. Dressed like a common whore.”

That was enough for Bruce. He stepped forward, ready to send his fist flying across this jerk’s face, but your smaller hand wrapped itself around his arm.

“Bruce, please,” you pleaded, looking up at him with wide eyes. “It’s okay. He’s right. I am showing too much skin. I should dress more modestly.”

“He’s being a jerk,” Bruce muttered, eyes urging you to let him go. “I’m not letting him speak to you like that.”

“Please.” You sounded so meek, so small. It tugged at Bruce’s heartstrings, and he immediately lowered his arm. He’d do anything for you, really.

“Fine.”

“Yeah, that’s better.” Nathan scoffed, before grabbing you by the arm and pulling you close. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

Without sparing him a second glance, you were out of the bar.

“I’m telling you, Alfred, that guy is the worst. I don’t understand how she’s still with him, he treats her like shit,” Bruce muttered to himself as he paced back and forth in his bedroom.

“Master Wayne, although I admire your compassion, I cannot help but wonder if you are sticking your nose in someone else’s business.” Alfred replied. He’d been watching Bruce walk holes into the floor, and although he wanted to help, the older man knew there was really nothing he could do.

“I know. I know I am but – she deserves better. She does, she deserves someone who’ll treat her right, who won’t talk to her that way, who will respect her and adore her – “

“Someone like you, I presume.”

“Yes. Exactly.”

Bruce sighed and sat on his bed, defeated.

“Master Wayne, have you considered telling this girl the feelings you’re harbouring for her?” Alfred asked, moving closer to the bed.

“I can’t. She loves him Alfred, she… she loves him.” He muttered again.

The butler gave Bruce a sympathetic smile, before walking away.

You loved Nathan. You didn’t love him.

So why did it all feel so terribly wrong?

You walked inside Wayne Manor for the first time a few weeks later.

It was raining – pouring, even – and you’d desperately knocked on its big doors. Alfred opened them for you, and recognised you instantly, having stolen glances at Bruce’s phone whenever he looked at pictures of you.

“Hi – Hi, I’m sorry for the intrusion,” you quickly introduced yourself, tears running down your face. “Is – is Bruce here?”

Alfred gently guided you to the living room, where he told you to wait. You stood there awkwardly, picking at your fingers, and looking around, taking in the beauty of Bruce’s family home.

When Alfred returned, he brought with him a few towels, and Bruce Wayne himself. The latter was just about to leave for patrol, but upon hearing from Alfred that you were standing on his doorway, drenched from head to toe and crying, he decided to ditch his nightly duties.

“Hey,” he said, hurrying towards you. It was all it took – you collapsed in his arms, tears running down your face. Bruce held you tightly and you cried, burrowing your face in his chest. Alfred simply placed the towels on top of one of the couches, and took his leave, silently going upstairs to get a robe for you. “Hey, it’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Once you managed to stop crying, you looked up at him and sniffled, shaking your head.

“I’m so sorry – you’re all wet because of me now,” you told him.

Bruce shook his head and moved to hand you a towel.

“It’s okay. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

You sighed and used the towel to dry your hair, wrapping the other one around your shoulders.

“It… it was Nathan.”

Bruce looked at you, eyes narrowing.

“What did he do?”

“Nothing! I mean – we just fought, that’s all. But it was a really nasty fight.” You said and burst into tears again. “He – he kept saying all I did was walk around and cheat on him! He said I didn’t truly love him, that I was selfish and only thought of myself. It – it’s not true! I love him Bruce, I really do!” You buried your face on your hands, and Bruce moved to sit by your side.

Bruce held you tightly in his arms, hand stroking your back and your head. You melted in his hold, breath evening out and tears eventually subsiding.

"I just... I don't know what to do, Bruce..." You mumbled against his chest. "I really do love him, but he said all of those mean things..."

Bruce's lips pressed into a thin line as he navigated the best way to go about this conversation.

"Nathan..." He mumbled, hands running through your hair. "Does he speak to you like this a lot?"

You sniffled, stilling in his arms.

"We fight... Lately we've been fighting a lot, but... I know he loves me... He doesn't mean it. He's been under so much stress, things at the hospital are getting chaotic and I've been stressing him out..."

Bruce shook his head, his hold unconsciously tightening around you. So he took his stress out on you? Jerk.

"That's not okay. He can't speak to you like this, he doesn't have the right to." Bruce pulled away to look you in the eyes and you sniffled as his big hands wiped your tears.

"He doesn't mean any harm, you know... He's under a lot of pressure from his superiors..."

He sighed once again, and then watched from the corner of his eyes as Alfred carried in his hand a tray of warm drinks and a fluffy robe.

"Look," he said, tilting your chin to meet his gaze. "How about you change into something more comfortable, and we'll talk about it over a drink?"

You smiled and nodded, getting up and thanking Alfred, grabbing the robe so you could go change.

Once you came back, you told Bruce you did not want to talk about such sad topics any further, and simply wanted to distract yourself. Bruce was happy to oblige.

You settled in the couch side by side with a blanket covering your laps. He let you pick a movie, and you sat side by side, poking fun at whatever it was that was playing on the TV, sipping on warm beverages, and talking.

“So you’re telling me you don’t know how to make a cup of tea?” You asked, leaning back to look at Bruce with a serious expression.

“Look, I was a failure and I decided it was better not to learn instead of having Alfred annoy me about it. He’s very serious about his tea. You should hear him yell at me.”

You chuckled and involuntarily placed your legs over Bruce’s lap under the blankets. He was quick to lay his hands on top of them, drawing patterns absentmindedly.

“You’re impossible,” you chuckled.

“Oh, so you’re all high and mighty and capable of cooking anything and everything?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Even if I wasn't very good, I'm sure I'd be able to cook more than you. I had to, you know. Living on my own and all,” you shrugged, “Some people don’t have butlers doing everything for them.”

Bruce hummed. You were right. It was one of the things he admired the most about you. How unafraid you were to tell him exactly what you think, and how resilient you were, how strong-willed and stubborn. Bruce was sure he’d never met a woman as strong as you in his entire life.

“Alright, pay up.” You extended your hand.

Now you were sitting a few inches apart, a Monopoly board on the couch in front of you.

“You’re cheating,” he huffed, counting his bills.

“No, you’re simply not very good. Aren't you like, supposed to be a god at this or something? This is your whole life.” You popped a popcorn inside your mouth and smiled.

“Usually, lives aren't dictated by the throw of a dice,” he said, handing you two bills. “You're ruining me here. I’m gonna go bankrupt.”

“Then learn how to play better.” You shrugged and rolled your dice again, moving your piece accordingly. Bruce smiled. He could get used to this, spending time with you, cuddled up in his couch. That's where you were meant to be, next to him, in his arms, in his blankets. You were meant to be in his home, brightening up the place with something as small as a smile, in his life, brightening his whole existence with just a tilt of your head. It was at this moment that Bruce realised that his feelings for you ran way deeper than just a simple friendship. After all, friends didn't wish to spend eternity together. Friends didn't want to lick the popcorn salt off each other’s lips, friends didn't want to hold each other close and whisper sweet nothings in their ear.

As the night went on, so did the activities. When you were done with board games, you switched to card games (getting your ass kicked by Bruce, who was far too good at Poker for your own liking). You changed movies about three times, simply not satisfied with the choices you’d picked earlier – not that Bruce minded. You’d made a game out of changing movies every time the characters gave you second hand embarrassment and had plenty of fun yelling at the protagonists who slipped and stuttered and acted like bozos.

“Oh, come on,” you cringed, body twitching involuntarily. “Why is she singing Fight Song on top of a table? Do directors think this is how people behave?”

“You stood on top of my couch and yelled. I think that’s close to what’s happening on the TV,” The man next to you eyed you with amusement as you scoffed and pointed an accusatory finger at him.

“That’s different, I won Monopoly,” you said nonchalantly, “Everyone knows you’re entitled to do whatever you want once you win Monopoly.” You grabbed a pillow and threw it in his direction, but you should've known better, because Bruce simply picked it mid-air and raised it in front of his head, to hit you back. However, at the sudden movement, your eyes widened, and you quickly flinched away from him, panic spreading all over your face.

Bruce let go of the pillow, heart breaking at the sight before him. What the fuck had just happened? Did you flinch away from him?

“I – “ You seemed to notice his worry and were quick to shake your head, laughing weakly. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you okay?” He asked, torn between reaching out and staying in place. He didn't want to scare you even more than he already had.

“Yes! Yes, I am. I’m sorry, I wasn't expecting you to do that. Was just trying to get away from the pillow.”

“You scrambled away from me.”

“Well, yes, you were going to hit me with a pillow, weren't you, Bruce?”

“I would never hurt you. You know that,” he whispered, and you looked away, still trying to pretend everything was fine.

“Well, I didn't want a pillow on my face. Alright? It’s nothing, I promise.”

He wasn't convinced in the least, and Bruce knew what it usually meant. His mind went back to Nathan, to the way he had treated you at the bar, to his behaviour towards you whenever you and Bruce were out for ice-cream or coffee. The gears were turning in his head, and you took notice of that, moving forward and holding his hands.

“Hey,” you smiled, although it didn't reach your eyes, “It’s fine. I promise. Everything is okay.”

He didn't believe it. Didn't buy it. But he had to earn your trust if he wanted to do something about it, and scaring you away wasn't an option.

He attempted to smile back, and nodded, muttering a small “Alright.”

You settled back next to him, and he could feel the way your body had tensed up as soon as your arms had brushed together. He needed to calm you down. So, he spoke.

About his life, about his childhood. He told you about all the times his father would let him tag along whenever he went to work at the hospital, how fascinated he was with his occupation. Saving lives. How great was that. He told you how much his father’s work had inspired him. He explained to you the intricate games he’d play in his gardens, pretending to be a detective who was investigating every sort of crimes. He wanted to save lives, just like his father did.

“You do, you know,” you mumbled, looking up from under his chin to get a good look at his beautiful face. “Even if you’re not a doctor, you still save lives. You make people’s lives better. All your philanthropy and charity are helping Gotham. You’re not doing this in vain.”

He smiled. If only you knew how much his charity and philanthropy extended.

You replied with stories of your own. The things you liked to do while growing up, the games you’d make up in your room, thinking of faraway lands with castles and elves and fantasies. You’d be a police officer one day, and a pirate the next. You told him about your childhood home, your high school, your college major. You showed him pictures of your roommates and the fun activities you did together.

It was an exchange. You’d tell him about yourself, and he would open up to you in return. The TV was still on, and both of you were looking at it, but none was paying attention. Your conversation was much more important.

Bruce told you about his childhood, how lonely he would feel sometimes. He told you sometimes he would isolate himself, the grief of having lost his parents far too much to bear. It made your heart ache and you found yourself leaning closer, wishing to take all of his pain away.

"You don't have to suffer all on your own now, though," you said, looking up to meet his chocolate brown eyes. "I'm here now. You can count on me to help you with whatever. You can trust me, Bruce." Your hand was suddenly on his cheek, palm hot and caring, and Bruce instantly leaned into it, sure that this was where he was meant to be – in your arms, staring into your eyes, baring his soul open. The air crackled in between you – it was as if the world had shifted and finally landed in place. It felt right. Everything felt right, and your eyes briefly drifted towards his lips.

He was just about to say something when a few loud knocks could be heard on the door. Your head whipped around in panic, the sound clearly startling you (something Bruce kept in mind).

"Alfred, could you please get that?" He asked, arm wrapping itself around you in an unconsciously protective move. You relaxed in his hold just as quickly as you’d stiffened, and his heart leaped. Did you feel safe with him?

The door slid open, revealing behind it a massive bouquet of red roses. The roses moved and Bruce quickly spotted the figure who was holding them.

"Nate?" You whispered, untangling yourself from Bruce's hold and taking tentative steps towards the door. Shit.

"Babe – hey," Nathan replied, sighing with relief once he spotted you. "I'm so sorry, I – I'm such an idiot. I'm the worst."

You eyed him sceptically, something like doubt shining in your eyes.

"I shouldn't have said any of those things. The hospital has been so busy, my bosses have been giving me shit every day, and I took it out on you. I'm so sorry, will you please forgive me?"

You hugged your arms, shielding yourself. You looked back at Bruce, who was watching the situation, lips a thin line and eyes cloudy.

"I didn't like the way you spoke to me... You really hurt, Nate, did you mean all of those things?"

"No! No – fuck no, I didn't. I was an idiot. I am an idiot. Please, let me make it up to you. I don't deserve you, but if you forgive me, I'll spend the rest of my days trying to prove to you I am worthy of your love. I'm so sorry. I'll be better. I promise. Babe, you make me better."

Bruce wasn't fazed by this speech. He didn't buy a single word of what Nathan had just told you, and once again, he would not keep it to himself. This man was manipulating you, preying on your emotions and your love for him, probably even going as far as laying his hands on you, and you deserved better.

"Perhaps you should've thought of those things before you treated her like shit." He said coldly, standing up and walking towards you. You turned away from him, which had Bruce's heart clench. Why were you turning from him?

But he didn't need to give it much more thought – you were already falling for Nathan's narrative.

"You – " Nathan's grip tightened. Bruce saw the way it tightened and saw your eyes land on his fist as well. This caused him to loosen it, and give a small, dry chuckle. "Bruce. Thank you so much for taking care of her. Truly. I'm so thankful you took care of my girl when she wasn't feeling well."

You raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yes, babe, really. He's your friend, and I'm willing to get along with your friends. I'd do anything for you, you know it. Don't you?" He stuck out his hands, presenting to you the bouquet of roses in one hand, and a box of chocolates in the other. It was only now that Bruce (and apparently, you as well) realised that both items, as well as the person who was carrying them, were dripping wet.

"You came all the way out here in the rain to apologise?" You asked, stepping out towards the man standing outside the door.

"Yes. Of course. I would do this and more for you, baby. You know that, don't you? I'll do anything for you. You drive me nuts, that's it. That's all! It's only because I love you so much that I act like this. Please give me another chance. I won't waste it. I know you deserve better than me, you could literally get any guy out there, but fuck... Please, just let me prove to you that you make me a better man." He looked desperate, panicked, blue eyes widening with fear.

It was useless. You were completely entranced by the manipulative bullshit this guy was spewing.

“Do you promise not to yell at me again?” You asked, taking another step towards him, fingers softly touching the rose petals.

“Yes. I do. I’ll never do it again – I promise babe. I’ll be better. I am better whenever I am with you. I know I overreacted, but it’s only because I love you. You make me crazy – I am crazy, for you.”

You looked up at him, something unsure in your eyes. You glanced back at Bruce, who furrowed his eyebrows and softly shook his head “no”. It wasn't a command or an order, simply some advice. This jerk didn't deserve you. You turned back to look at Nathan and took the roses he was holding from him.

“These are really pretty,” you mumbled, inhaling their scent.

“Not as pretty as you. So, what do you say? Will you forgive me? Please? Just give me another chance.”

You seemed to ponder it, quietly analysing the roses before you. Then, a bigger smile spread across your face, and you nodded, moving towards Nathan to wrap your arms around his neck. He sighed in relief and hugged you back, burrowing his face in your hair. When his gaze caught Bruce’s, his eyes hardened. If looks could kill, Bruce would be dead and gone. Perhaps it’s a good thing he wasn't scared of this jerk.

You let go of your boyfriend and turned to Bruce, holding the bouquet tightly in your hands.

“Thank you for your kindness, Bruce.”

“Are you sure about this – “

“But this is my relationship. We’re friends, aren’t we? I need you to trust me here, okay? It’s fine. Nathan’s apologised. Everything is okay now,” you smiled, and Bruce swore he could see something breaking behind your eyes.

“He doesn’t deserve you, he yelled and – “

“Look, I said I was sorry, alright, rich boy?” Nate interrupted, spitting the words. “Mind your own business. This is my relationship, alright? I appreciate that you were here for my girl, but your help is no longer needed.”

Then, he turned, taking you away with him.

The last thing Bruce saw before Nathan’s car was out of you, was you leaning over the console to press a sweet kiss on his cheek.

He didn't like this one bit. And he was not going to rest until he was sure you were away from this guy.

He didn't see you for a while after that.

At least not directly.

During his patrols, he would stop by your apartment and watch for any signs of either you or him. But either you were extremely shy, or Nathan was very careful about not letting anyone peek into their lives, and usually closed the blinds. Bruce was sure it was the latter. He could no longer peek inside – Lucius had destroyed the system that had allowed him to spy on every citizen in Gotham, after all – and was stuck texting you and trying to pry information from you.

The only thing you told him was that everything was fine. Nathan was a gentleman, taking you out for dinner and showering you in gifts, telling you he loved you. According to you, things couldn't be better.

Your texting patterns would be sporadic. Some days, he’d spend all day chatting with you, sending pictures and things that had reminded him of you, making plans to meet up and grab a bite. Others, you’d ignore him all day, giving him one-worded replies once or twice.

“Alfred, I just don’t know what to do,” he confessed once. “I’m pretty sure the bastard might be hitting her or something. The way she acts, the way he acts? Yelling at her, fighting, and then showering her with gifts and affection? It doesn't sit right with me.”

“Have you thought about reporting it to the police, sir?”

“I don’t have enough evidence,” he grumbled. “She flinched once, and they fight. That doesn't necessarily mean he’s abusive towards her. Besides, what if anyone investigates it, does not notice anything wrong, and he gets angrier? What if he takes it out on her?” Bruce placed his hands on his face and laid his arms on his knees. It was a tricky situation. If he wasn't abusive but was still a scumbag, he doubted you’d ever leave him. If he did hurt you in any physical way, he might be risking your own safety in case he reported anything.

Suddenly, his phone chimed, and he was pulled from his thoughts as your ringtone played. He picked up on the first ring.

“Hello?”

You were breathing heavily but did not say anything. Bruce was starting to worry.

“Hello? Is everything okay?”

“Yes – yes, it is,” you quickly said, and your voice held a foreign emotion to it, something Bruce couldn't quite place. “I’m sorry, I know it’s short notice, but do you want to grab something to eat? I was supposed to meet a friend, but she cancelled on me.”

Bruce looked up towards Alfred, who nodded in acknowledgement.

“Yes, sure. Of course, I'll meet you. Did you have any place in mind?”

“There’s this sandwich place near Gotham Mall, perhaps we could go there? I’ve been meaning to try it out for a while, but… Well, it’s just never been a right time. I’ll text you the address if you want to.” Something was up with your voice. You didn't usually sound so unconfident, at least not with him.

“I’d appreciate that. I’ll meet you there in 20. That okay?”

“Yeah, that’s perfect. Thank you, Bruce.” There was a small tilt to your voice that Bruce paired up with a smile, and then you hung up.

20? He’d be there in 10.

Bruce was already sitting down by a window, wearing a casual dark blue polo when you walked in. It was impossible to miss him – you found him the most handsome man in the world, with his beautifully carved jawline and his kind eyes.

What were you even saying? You have a boyfriend. Control yourself. If he knew you were even having these thoughts…

Instinctively, you wrapped your jacket tighter around you.

Once Bruce spotted you, he stood up to meet you halfway. You hugged him briefly, tensing under his touch, which he simply chalked up to awkwardness after that night. Had you felt the same he had? Was that why you were acting so strange?

“Thank you for meeting me,” you sighed, sitting down. “My friend cancelled last minute; I didn’t know who else to call. I hope you don’t feel like a last resort or anything – you were actually the first person I thought about.”

Bruce nodded. A waitress came over and asked you both if you would like to see the menu. You looked over at the options and a small smile was pulled from your lips. Once Bruce had picked a Caprese sandwich, you asked for a Pesto Chicken one, and a lemonade. The waitress smiled at you both (well, she smiled at Bruce), grabbed your menus (making it a show of bending over to show off her cleavage) and walked away.

Bruce, however, didn’t seem to notice, seeing as his eyes were on you.

“Is everything okay?”

You looked away, before meeting his gaze. And you smiled. It was gentle, and soft, and fake. Bruce knew, because he plastered on the same smile whenever he had to attend galas full of people whose only interest were his last name and his bank account.

“Yeah! I’m just tired, I think. Haven’t been sleeping well.”

Bruce’s gaze landed on your figure. You were leaning on your right arm, staring absentmindedly at the counter. You were wearing a pretty denim jacket, and a simple purple shirt underneath, as well as a pair of jeans. It wasn’t a very flashy outfit, and yet he thought you looked gorgeous.

“Aren’t you going to take that off?” he asked, nodding towards the jacket you were wearing.

“Hm?” You turned to him and blinked repeatedly. “Oh – no. No need, I’m kind of chilly. How have you been?”

Rather good at deflecting attention, you were. He decided to play along for the time being.

“I’ve been good. Work has been hectic, but what else could you expect when you’re running a company,” he sighed. “I’ve been worried about you, though. You’ve been ignoring me for a few days – are you sure you’re doing okay?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Work has been hectic as well. The restaurant is going through a few renovations, and we know have more tables to wait. It’s been a hard adjustment, but I’m doing my best.”

“I’m sure you are,” he smiled.

After that, conversation flowed easily, as it usually did between you two. Your sandwiches arrived and you tried each other’s comparing tastes and flavours, trying to prove to each other that your choice was superior. You told him about your new patrons at your job, an old couple who left you extremely big tips and called you “darling” every time you walked by. In return, he told you about this big investor who was interested in a fundraising project to combat poverty in Gotham.

It was as nice as always, and when the bill came, he reached for it without batting an eye.

“Hey – Mr, let me. You can’t just pay for everything.” You chided, reaching out to grab the bill from his hands.

“No, that’s out of the question,” he replied, as casually as asking about the weather. “You don’t have to pay for anything when you’re with me.”

“Bruce,” you whined half-jokingly, still trying to fetch the piece of paper from him. He lifted it over his head, and you huffed, leaning back once again. “You can’t pay for everything every time we’re out.”

“Why not?” Bruce raised an eyebrow. “I’m allowed to spoil you. Aren’t I?”

The word spoil had you turn your head, heat creeping up to your cheeks.

“I don’t deserve to be spoiled.”

“Sure you do. If anyone deserves to be spoiled, it’s you.”

You looked into his eyes for a few moments, unable to form any words. Every time you were with him, you felt your heart warm. You felt like everything was right. It was easy to talk with Bruce. To Bruce. You felt like you could tell him just about anything.

Not anything.

“How about we go for a walk?” Bruce asked. You nodded and moved to get up.

But as you did so, the left sleeve of your jacket got stuck on your table. You pulled away, causing your whole arm to be exposed to him, a large bruise running along it. Your eyes widened and you panicked, forcefully pulling your jacket from the chair, and wrapping it around yourself again.

You heard Bruce call out your name, but you were far too focused on picking up your things and running out of the establishment, Bruce right behind you.

“Hey! Hey! Come black, please! Don’t go!” He wanted to scream, to yell, to reach out to you and hold you tight, but he knew doing any of those things could scare you off. He could lose you forever, and he was not going to let his anger at Nathan cloud his judgement.

You didn’t want to run, though. You crossed the street and stopped right in front of a park bench, tears streaming down your face. Once Bruce caught up with you, he maintained his distance, but remained close enough should you want to come closer. He called your name. Softly. As if it was some sort of prayer, a mantra. It felt nice coming from his lips. He sounded kind. Unlike…

“Who did that to you?” he asked, exasperation in his voice. There was no point dancing around the subject.

“No one. I tripped, and I fell, and I – “

“Please, don’t give me that crap.” His words were harsh, but his voice was soft, and everything was so confusing, all you could do was sit down on the bench in front of you and cry.

“I fell, Bruce. I’m so clumsy, I fell during one of my shifts at the restaurant and that’s all, I promise you.”

Bruce sat down next to you. A few inches, but still, next to you. His mind was running hot with anger. That bastard had done it, he’d actually touched you and hurt you, and Bruce was going to do everything in his power to make sure he never saw the light of the sun again. You raised your head and looked at Bruce. You thought he’d be looking at you with disgust, but there was none in his gaze. Only kindness, only softness.

“It was an accident…” you mumbled, and he had to move closer in order to make out the words you were saying. “It was my fault. I provoked him…”

There it was.

Not his fault. You’d provoked him.

Bruce did his best to school his features. He needed to be calm, he needed to look collected and cool. If he acted out and showed just how angry he was, he might scare you off, and that was the last thing he wanted to do. He didn’t want you to associate him to Nathan, to the monster who’d hurt you.

“Can you tell me what happened?” he asked.

“It, it was my fault…” you sobbed. “He came home from work, and he was so tired… He’d had a really rough day, and all he wanted was to come home to a nice warm dinner, but, but… I was so tired, Bruce, I was so tired, so I didn’t cook – not even for myself! And when he came home, he started shouting and telling me I wasn’t good for anything, that he couldn’t even count on me to make him dinner.” You hid your face in your hands and sobbed louder. “So – so I told him to cook his own dinner, and I know I shouldn’t, because he was so tired! And – and he got mad, and… He... he...”

“Can I come any closer?” you furrowed your brows. Why was Bruce asking that? Why was he being so sweet with you? Especially after you’d just told him you were a terrible girlfriend, being as selfish as to not cook for your boyfriend after a tiring day. But the only thing in his eyes was gentleness. And he was being so sweet with you. Did you even deserve such a treatment?

You nodded your head yes, and he slowly moved closer, hand picking up yours.

“You need to report him to the police.”

Your eyes widened, and you began to shake your head while he spoke.

“He hurt you. This is domestic violence, it’s abuse. You need to report him – “

“No. No, no, no – “

“He can’t keep hurting you like this. All the yelling, all the fights, he’s taking advantage of you, and you don’t deserve any of that. Honey, he’s hurting you – “~

“No, no, no, no, no, no – “

“He’s abusing you.”

“He’s not – he loves me, it was an accident – “

“It wasn’t an accident; he’s hurt you before – “

“He hasn’t!” you exclaimed, shaking your head, “He has not hurt me!”

“Not physically, maybe, but he treats you like shit, which also counts as abuse. Listen to me, please,” he moved closer and slowly lifted his hands to cup your face. He did it slowly, giving you plenty of time to adjust, react, move away from him, do anything to show your discomfort. You did not, so he held your face in a way that showed just how afraid he was that you would break.

“You deserve better. This scumbag is hurting you. Let me help you.”

You looked into his eyes, and the whole thing felt foreign to you. Being held so gently, being talked to so calmly, being regarded as something close to precious, to dear. Wasn’t this how relationships were supposed to go? Wasn’t Nathan supposed to be just like this?

“I love him…” you whispered, attempting to look away. Bruce did not let you. He kept his gaze focused on you. “I can’t leave him Bruce, I… He was so sorry… You should’ve seen him; he was so broken… He regretted it so much.”

"He looked broken because he's trying to fool you." Bruce let go of your face and held your hands in his, hoping to convey everything he meant just by this touch. "I can't stand and watch as he hurts you like this. Please let me do something. Let me help. I'll get him fired. I'll get him arrested. This can't go on; he can't keep hurting you – "

"I love him!" You sobbed, shaking your head. "I do, and he loves me, and he did not mean it! It was an accident! You can't do anything; you can't take him from me! Please, if you care about me in any way, don't do anything. We'll sort it out. I promise you it won't happen again, honest."

Bruce was torn. Torn between storming out of there and beating that asshole boyfriend of yours into a pulp and staying there comforting you. He wanted to do both so badly. He couldn't just stand aside and do nothing, but he also did not want to lose you forever. He could still do it, of course. Hurt Nathan, the same way he'd hurt you. But then he was most definitely sure he'd lose you forever. And would that be worth it? It would. He'd lose you, but you'd be safe. And wasn't that what mattered the most in the end?

"Please, Bruce... Trust me..." You whispered, looking deep into his eyes, trying to find some sort of sign in there that would show you he was still on your side, by your side. Your friends were against you, so was your family. Nathan was right. They were all terrible, they hated you and did not want you to be happy.

With all those people gone, you needed to know you still had Bruce. That despite everyone leaving, he was still yours.

He's not yours though, a little voice said inside your head. You tried to drown it. Who Bruce belongs to is none of your business. And it’s not like he even belongs to someone, he is his own person. Not some property to be handed around carelessly.

You’d never handle him carelessly though. You’d love him. And he’d love you, the way you’re meant to be loved. No. This was wrong. You were not supposed to have these thoughts. You had Nathan. And you loved him.

Did you, though? What had Nathan done for you as of late? Hit you and berate you and fight you and yell at you. Was that even how relationships went?

Sure. That's how passionate relationships went. And you knew Nathan was passionate about you. That’s why he got angry so often, because your love drove him nuts. Loving you drove him nuts. He adored you so much, you made him lose rationality. And wasn't that romantic?

Bruises aren't romantic. Taking care of someone is romantic. Holding them while they cry. Cheering them up with ice-cream and Monopoly, and surprising them at work. What a wonderful boyfriend Bruce would be.

No. Stop it. Those thoughts are wrong.

You looked at Bruce, standing in front of you, regarding you with so much care and worry. How you wished you could just melt in his arms forever. Sometimes you liked to relive how nice it felt to rest in his hold. How natural. You wished you could hug him again and never let go.

It was frightening, really, the way your feelings for Bruce were growing. He’d been just a friend at first, someone you could trust, someone you could spend time with and have fun. But now, he was so much more than that, and you feared the lines between friendship, and something more had begun to blur.

“I’d treat you so much better,” he suddenly blurted, drawing circles on your hand with his thumbs. “You deserve better than him. Please let me do better. Let me show you how you deserve to be loved.”

Tears found their ways to your eyes, and you shook your head, slowly.

You couldn't. No, you couldn't, possibly.

“I’m sorry…” you started, trying to choke back a sob.

“Please. You deserve to be treated with respect. With kindness, with love. Nathan isn't doing any of these things, he’s disrespecting you by laying his hands on you and hurting you all the time.” His face was mere inches away from yours now. Why was he so close? You could smell his cologne, see every speck of light in his eyes, listen to the breath he let out as his lips parted.

It wouldn't hurt to get closer. His lips must taste nice.

It would be wrong. So wrong.

You like him, don't you? And he treats you nice and likes you so much.

You love Nathan. You’d been with him for years now and loved him. He was good for you. He loved you, he provided for you. He paid most of the rent every month and 1bought most of the groceries. Your salary as a waitress could not compare to his, the one of a prestigious doctor. You couldn't leave him. It would ruin you.

Bruce has way more money than him. He would help you get back on your feet.

Quickly, you scrambled to your feet, getting away from him. This was wrong. Extremely wrong. You were dating Nathan. And that was the end of it.

“I'm sorry, Bruce,” you said, sounding more confident than you felt. “I'm in love with Nathan. Please trust me on this. I know what I'm doing.”

“I can’t just stand by and watch as he hurts you.” Bruce's voice held something to it you couldn't quite place. It felt like sorrow, like grief. You hated it. It made your stomach churn.

“He won’t hurt me anymore! He loves me!”

“Are you saying that because you believe it, or because you're trying to?”

The question took you by surprise.

“I…” you stuttered, shaking your hand. “I… I believe it.”

Did you?

“If you care about me Bruce, please let me be. My relationship is none of your concern.”

“What? Please – “

“Please mind your business, Bruce.” You mumbled, pulling your jacket tighter around you, and sighing. “Thank you for the sandwich. I’ll see you around.”

You spun on your heel and walked away, leaving behind a very broken-hearted Bruce Wayne.

You were constantly on Bruce’s mind. You plagued his thoughts 24/7 – your face, your eyes, your smile, your laugh. Again and again, from the moment he woke up, to the second he closed his eyes and fell asleep. You haunted his dreams too. Cried, lovely face covered in black and purple bruises, blood dripping down your mouth. These nightmares usually ended with a blood-curdling scream from you, and Bruce waking up in cold sweats.

It wasn't pleasant. Not at all.

And the worst part was, he had no idea what to do.

“If I report him, he might hurt her even further.”

“Yes, but that was when you had no evidence. You’ve told me she told you he hit her, things are different now, she confessed he was acting abusive towards her.” Alfred said, preparing a cup of tea. Bruce had foregone coffee for a while. Ever since you made it so difficult for him to sleep, Alfred had been trying different methods of getting his boss to sleep.

“Maybe I should have a little run-in with him. Or rather, the Batman should.” Bruce muttered, running a hand through his already messy hair.

“And what good would that make, Master Wayne?”

“I’d tell him to stay away from her. Shake him up a bit. Beat him up. Teach him a lesson.”

“I thought this wasn't about revenge,” the old butler settled a cup of tea in front of Bruce and sat next to him with a sigh. “Master Wayne, may I speak freely?”

“Of course.”

“Gotham has just begun to see Batman as a symbol of hope. You don't want to scare its people by beating up a doctor. Granted, he’s a despicable man who dares hit his partner, but a doctor, nonetheless. It would be foolish to destroy everything you’ve worked so hard to build so far.”

“Then what am I supposed to do, Alfred? How am I supposed to save her if I'm not Batman?”

“That is curious, because I don’t remember hearing the Miss say she liked spending time with the Batman. She did not cling to his arms and cried and told him her darkest secrets. She did not invite him for lunches and afternoon snacks and walks because she liked his company.” He mused. “She did all of that with Bruce Wayne. Perhaps you don't need a mask this time, Master Wayne. Perhaps, this time, being you is enough.”

Bruce thought the words over in his head. Alfred was right – something that happened abnormally often. You had never needed him as Batman. Just Bruce was enough.

“There’s also the fact that your family has left you a rather comfortable fortune, and more prestige that you could ever ask for. I’m sure Bruce Wayne would suffice.”

Bruce chuckled humourlessly, sipping from his cup of tea.

“She won’t open up to me, though. I mean, she will. She told me he was hurting her, that he’d pushed her. But she refused to let me help and said that I couldn't tell a soul. How am I supposed to get her to trust me?”

Alfred hummed.

“Perhaps you should invite her over again. Tell her you would like to talk. Or, you know, go to the police like a regular person and end the nightmare she is undoubtedly living.”

“I’ve done some research, Alfred,” Bruce sighed, “Dr. Nathan Smith is well liked in his community. Volunteers, donates to charity, the whole ordeal. If she tells the police, it was an accident and she fell, they’re likely to believe her. We need something more concrete.”

Alfred hummed once more. He could see where Bruce was coming from. On one hand, it was endearing. He’d never cared so much about someone and was clearly smitten by you. On the other, he was afraid the man would make a move far too late.

“And your plan, Master Wayne, is?”

Bruce dropped his head on the kitchen table. The white marble felt cold against his skin, and he relished in the comfort it provided.

“I don’t know, Alfred. I don’t know.”

“I thought I told you to stop hanging out with her?”

Bruce would recognise that voice anywhere.

As soon as it reached his ears, his fists clenched involuntarily. It seemed to him it was second nature to be angry around that piece of shit.

“Nate, she’s my oldest friend… I miss her terribly; it’s been ages since we've hung out.”

You were walking a few steps ahead of him, arm linked with Nathan’s. Well, rather, Nathan was gripping your arm, and you were simply being pulled along. Harshly.

“Ah, I see. So you’d rather hang out with her than me.” Nathan scoffed and shook his head, and you turned to face him. Bruce could see the heartbreak in your eyes.

“No! That’s not true!”

“She hates me. She doesn’t think we’re good together and wants to break us apart. And you want to hang out with her. Just tell me you want to break up and leave me the fuck alone!”

Nathan shoved you away from him, before shaking his head and walking faster down the road. Your teared up and ran after him. “Nate!” you yelled. “Nate! Please!” Once you reached him, you held onto his hands tightly, trying to get him to stop. He did not. “Please, Nate, I’m sorry! I won’t bring her up again, I promise!”

Nathan kept walking, not even sparing you a glance.

“I promise Nate, I’m so sorry! I’m sorry, please, forgive me!”

No one seemed to give two damns about the two of you. After all, people were selfish and did not care enough about the world around them. Only Bruce’s gaze was on you.

Nathan finally stopped, and sighed, looking at the floor.

“If you want to be her friend, and don’t love me anymore, I get it. That’s okay. You can move out, get your stuff – “

“No! No, I don’t want to be her friend, Nate, I don’t,” you pleaded, holding both his hands and shaking your head vigorously. Bruce felt like a creep, staring at you like that, staring into your private life like that, but what else could he do? “I’m sorry. I won’t bring it up again. I promise. I love you. Okay?” You placed yourself on the tip of your toes to reach his face and kissed his lips gently. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, please, I love you, please forgive me…”

Bruce swore he could see the glint of victory in Nathan’s eyes, and it made his insides churn.

“You promise?”

“I do! I promise! I love you so much, Nate, I won’t talk about her ever again. I love you and only you. You’re the love of my life!” You reached up to kiss him again, and Nathan responded, albeit unexcitedly. It was enough for you though, and you linked your hand with his. “I love you, Nate. So much. You’re the only person I need.”

The blonde man hummed, and you pulled him along. You tried your best to keep him close to you, but he wasn’t responding. That’s when Bruce decided he needed to intervene.

It was only when Bruce said your name a second time, louder, that you turned around, eyes widening with surprise.

“Bruce!” He could tell you weren’t expecting to see him here. He could also tell you were scared. Not of him, of course, but of the man at your side, by the way your whole body tensed, and your eyes drifted from him to Bruce.

“Ah. Bruce.” Nathan spit, looking at him with a fake expression of politeness. Bruce could tell his smile wasn’t real and noticed how his hold tightened on you. “What a coincidence. Have you perhaps been following us?” He laughed dryly. It was a poor attempt at a joke, and an even poorer attempt of figuring out if you’d listened to his whole conversation with you.

“Ah, no. I was just on my way home.”

“What were you up to?” you asked, voice relaxed as it often was when you were around him.

“Well, I'm celebrating the establishment of a new children's school in my family's name. It's a very important cause, and I’m throwing a party later this week. Alfred and I were shopping together.” Bruce replied.

“You? Shopping?” There was a happy tilt to your voice. Bruce only wished you would always sound like that.

“Well, I wasn’t alone. Baby steps.” He chuckled.

“And who is this Alfred?” Nathan interjected. “Some servant of yours?”

Bruce frowned. He did not like the way your boyfriend referred to the man who was the closest thing he had to a family. Still, he wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of anger.

“Alfred is my butler. He has been with my family for many years, and I consider him part of it. He is not a servant, and it shocks me that someone surely so well-read as you would refer to someone with such a degrading term.” Bruce raised his eyebrow, and he could swear he saw Nathan shrink a bit. It made you smile. It made Bruce feel good.

“My apologies, Bruce.” Nathan responded, offering a tight-lipped smile. He did not like losing, and that’s all he felt himself doing when he was around Bruce Wayne. Losing his temper, losing his control, losing his upper hand. It was something he detested greatly. He needed to get away from there. And quick.

“Honey, we need to go. Don’t want to steal too much of Bruce’s time, do we?”

“It’s not a problem, really,” Bruce retorted, ignoring your boyfriend, and turning to you instead. That’s when he noticed what you were wearing. Another jacket – a big one, oversized, a turtleneck and a pair of jeans. Gone were your shorts and flowy tops, you were now covered from head to toe. Why? To conceal what, exactly? And now that he got a good look at your face, was the hell was going on with your lip? It seemed split. “There’s nothing else in my list. Say, do you have any plans for next Friday? I would love if you two stopped by. It’s for a good cause, and perhaps you’ll have fun?”

He had to get you there. He had to get you alone with him, safe, away from Nathan.

“A party? At Wayne Manor?” Nathan asked.

“Yes. Will you be there?”

You looked up at your boyfriend, hope in your eyes.

Nathan noticed your excitement and blew air through his nose – the closest you’d get to a chuckle.

“Of course. We would love to go.”

“Really?” You beamed. That was not the answer you were expecting from him. Nathan hated Bruce – you knew this. Did this mean he was trying? Trying to befriend your friends? For your sake?

“Of course.” Nathan bent down to kiss your forehead, earning a genuine smile from you. “If you’d like to.”

“I would!”

It was small, the notion of a happy relationship, the notion that you were happy. But Bruce saw right through it. None of it was real. He was just playing a part.

“We should get going. It was nice seeing you, Bruce.”

“Oh – okay!” you yelped when Nathan turned you around and pulled you along with him. “It was nice seeing you, Bruce! I’ll see you Friday!”

And just like that, you were gone.

But Bruce wasn’t one to give up. Something felt off. Something smelled fishy. Nathan had been too kind, too nice, too allowing. Was it all a façade? He knew Nathan would never allow you to go to a party, especially one hosted by him. Something was definitely up. His feet moved, and before he could realise it, he was following the two figures in front of him to a dark alley. He heard voices and walked deeper.

That’s how he found you, pressed up against the wall, Nathan’s hand cruelly pressed against the hollow of your throat.

“Why the fuck are you still talking to him?” Nathan grumbled, tightening the hold he had on your throat. His knuckles turned white. “Huh!? You say you love me and then go around and fuck that rich motherfucker? Is that it, yeah?”

“N-No!” you sobbed, struggling to breath. Tears streamed down your face, hands clutching his. “Nate, please. You’re hurting me.” Your words were interrupted by coughs, and just before your vision could go completely black, you saw Nathan get dragged around and thrown on the floor. As soon as your vision (and your air) returned, you saw Bruce do to Nathan what he’d done to you.

“How dare you lay your disgusting hands on her,” he bellowed, and you somehow recognised that voice. It felt familiar. Bruce turned to you, and shook his head, arm still against Nathan’s neck. “Are you okay?” You nodded silently, wiping your tears, and taking a few steps back.

Bruce was surprised no one else had interrupted the two of you, but then again, this was Gotham. It didn’t matter if Batman was ridding crime for good, people would still look the other way, far too accustomed to violence to even bother.

“Are you seriously going to let him do this?” Nathan scowled, fighting against Bruce’s iron grip – it was no use. Somehow, this rich dumb playboy was stronger than he looked.

“I… I…” You looked in between the two men, still wiping your tears away. Part of you wanted Bruce to teach him a lesson. The other wanted him to let go of your boyfriend.

“Fuck – do something! Are you going to let this brute hurt me like this!?”

“Keep your filthy mouth shut,” Bruce whispered, before turning to face you completely. “What do you want me to do?”

This surprised you. You had a choice? You could decide?

“If you want to, I’ll beat him to a pulp myself. We’ll take him to the police. I’ll protect you. I promise I will. I can take care of you. You will never have to look him in the eye again.” Bruce’s eyes were filled with longing, and you found yourself walking towards him.

Wouldn’t that be nice? Nathan could go to jail. He’d leave you alone forever. No more fighting, no more hitting you, no more hurting you. You’d be free.

“Tell him to let go!” Now, Nathan’s face was turning a nasty shade of purple, and his lovely blue eyes were wide with fear. “Tell him! Are you going to let him do this to me? I love you!”

Bruce said your name softly. “Don’t listen to him. He’s done nothing but lie to you over and over again. You can end this nightmare right now.”

“Please! I’ll be better! I promise” Nathan coughed, the lack of air getting to him. “I was just jealous! You know me, I – I get like this! I thought you were going to leave me for him! I can’t compete with Bruce Wayne.”

“Shut up.” Bruce shook his head. “All you’ve been doing is hurting her. Abusing her. Do you seriously think I’m letting you go unscathed?”

It was scary, to be honest, seeing Bruce like this. You’d never seen him this angry, and he somehow reminded you of Nathan. Granted, the anger wasn’t directed towards you, but it still made you feel uneasy and unsafe, and all you wanted him was to go back to the sweet and kind Bruce who stole spoonfulls of your ice-cream and cheated at Monopoly when you weren’t looking.

“Bruce?” you whispered, frozen in place.

“Yeah?”

“Let go.”

“What?”

“Please let go.”

He looked at you and noticed the fear in your eyes. Something inside him broke and he wanted to punish himself for making you feel like that. Were you afraid of him? His hold on Nathan’s neck loosened, and the latter took this as an opportunity to get away and walk towards you. Nathan embraced you tightly, burrowing his face in your hair and crying loudly.

“I’m so sorry… I hate myself for the way I’ve been treating you… You deserve so much better than me, and I don’t deserve your forgiveness… I’m just a mess who seems to ruin everything… Please forgive me for being so possessive, I just – I just never feel like I’m worthy of you.” Nathan’s lies spilled from his lips, and the very same lips found their way to yours, kissing you softly as he held your face in his hands.

You seemed unresponsive, though, eyes fixed on Bruce. Was this how he always behaved? Had you simply not seen it before? Would he act this way towards you?

“I’m sorry…” his voice somehow got through to you. “I just… I couldn’t just stand by and watch as he hurt you…”

It was true, you gathered. He’d said it before. He’d always put himself between you and Nathan whenever you two fought. He’d never allowed Nathan to mistreat you in front of him, always protecting you – or trying to – no matter what.

Still, it had been horrifying to see those eyes who regarded you with such kindness, look at someone else with nothing but rage. To hear that lovely voice that always cheered you up sound so hateful. It wasn’t your Bruce. It simply wasn’t.

Your arms wrapped themselves around Nathan’s torso, almost as if mechanically. You had to do it. It’s what you did. Nathan yelled and fought and hurt. And then he’d apologize and take you back. It made you feel sick and nauseous and empty inside. But you knew no one else you love you like he did. No one would love you as passionately as Nathan did. And you didn’t want to be all alone.

“Let’s go home, okay, baby?” he asked, one hand caressing your cheek, the other rubbing circles on your hip affectionately. “We can cuddle and watch a movie. Anything you like. How does that sound?”

“Don’t,” Bruce pleaded, eyebrows furrowing. Were you seriously still going home with him? After all that had happened?

You did not break eye contact. You knew you shouldn’t go back home with Nate. At least a part of you did. A part of you knew this was wrong. Knew that you deserved better, knew that Nate was abusive and did not deserve you. But that part had long been defeated, and all that was left were small voices in your head that yelled “No one else is going to love you like this” repeatedly.

And you always let them win.

“Let’s go,” you mumbled.

Nathan wrapped his arm around your waist, kissed your forehead, and Bruce watched as you two left the alley.

You did not text him anymore.

And on Friday, none of you appeared at the Manor for the party.

It was close to 2 in the morning when Bruce was stirred awake by the sounds of knocking on his front door.

He’d fallen asleep on the couch, exhausted from exploring a few new gadgets and functions Lucius had implemented on his suit. Patrol had been rough on him, the new holographic projection system taking a while to get used to, but well worth it in the end. It would spare him a handful of bruises and stress.

Alfred had retired for the night long ago, so it was just Bruce, a copy of a book you’d mentioned in passing once and he decided to read, and a fire cackling in the fireplace.

He got up, groggily rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and made his way towards the door. Far too tired to be careful (really, who the hell would be knocking at his door at 2 in the morning? And it’s not like he could blink the sleep away in a matter of seconds. He had enough training for that) Bruce opened the door, coming face to face with a hunched figure.

“This better be good for you to be knocking on my god damned door at 2 in the morning –“

That’s when the figure in front of him shifted. It was no longer a mere figure. It was you.

You were hunched over, looking down, head covering your whole face, and Bruce could make out faint sobbing. He called your name once, twice, three times, softly. All you could do was shake your head. hands tightly clutched in front of you.

“Come on, let’s go inside.”

Bruce stepped aside so you could walk in. He would not touch you without your permission, without not knowing what had happened. You stepped inside, shaking all over. The clothes on your body were comprised of a flimsy pyjama set, a long-sleeved shirt, and a pair of pants. Your feet were bare save for the fluffy bunny slippers on them. You looked cold – had you left in a hurry?

“Hey, can we sit on the couch?” Bruce asked, fluffing up some pillows. You nodded and followed him, sitting down, head still hung low. Would you even look at him?

“Do you want something to drink?” He kneeled next to you but did not try to look into your eyes. He wanted to be on the same level as you, make you feel safe, but also give you the space and freedom to move away from him should you want that. He’d never want to smother you. You nodded your head softly, and Bruce was quick to move to the kitchen. He knew your favourite by heart, and within a few minutes, had it prepared and on top of the coffee table in front of you. “There it is,” he mumbled, sitting back again. He'd wait for you to take the first step.

And when you did, all the air left his lungs.

You looked up, hair clinging to your sweaty forehead, silent tears streaming down your face. Most of the lights were off, the fire being the only thing illuminating your features. Your delicate lips, your nose, your beautiful eyes, and the black and purple bruise surrounding one of them. The look Bruce gave you, whatever it was, just made you sob uncontrollably once again. He didn’t know if whether to touch you, come closer or back off, but you answered that question yourself when you wrapped your arms around him, sobbing loudly.

“I’m sorry…” you sobbed, holding onto him tightly. Bruce reciprocated the hug, spreading his legs so you could move comfortably in between them. He adjusted you in his lap and kissed your forehead, just holding you tightly.

“No, none of that,” he shushed you, rocking both your bodies back and forth. “You don’t have to apologize. Never.”

“It wasn’t my fault… it wasn’t Bruce, you have to believe me…”

“I do. I believe you. It’s not your fault.”

He wanted to know what the hell that jerk had done to you. But he knew he couldn’t – you might close yourself off even more and refuse to talk if he pressed further.

So, he made sure you were comfortable. Bruce picked you up and moved to the couch, covering both of your bodies with a blanket, and pulling you closer. You took the hint immediately, snuggling up as close as possible to him, face pressed against his neck. You were hiding from him, but it felt nice to be in his arms.

The two of you stayed like that for a while. Bruce turned on the TV and allowed you to pick a channel (“Mhm” for yes and “Hm-hm” for no) until you were watching some silly rom-com that got you chuckling occasionally. Bruce was stroking your arms gently, bending down to press kisses against your forehead whenever he felt you might need them. He wasn’t paying any attention to the movie in front of him, instead coming up with a plan to throw that idiot in jail.

After you’d finished your drink, you gathered the courage to shift in his lap and completely face him. The bruise covering your eye was on full display, and Bruce could now make out the dried blood on your lip.

“He… he hurt me, Bruce…” you mumbled, reaching for his hand. Bruce squeezed yours tightly, a silent reminder that he was there and listening, and that you weren’t alone. “I’m so scared… He pushed me and kept hitting me, and I was begging him to stop but he wouldn’t… I didn’t know what else to do, so I just waited for him to fall asleep and ran… I had to – I had to wait. He wanted to sleep next to me. He kept apologizing and promising he’d be better, so I told him it was okay, and I went to bed with him…” Bruce wiped away your tears, nodding along. Outside, he was the picture of compassion and sympathy. Inside, a fire was burning, and he had to control every bone in his body not to get into his car and drive to your (hopefully ex by now) boyfriend’s house.

“You’re so brave,” he muttered, running his hand through your hair to soothe you. “I can’t believe how hard that must’ve been. But you’re so brave, and I’m so proud of you.”

“I thought he could change,” you started to sob, shaking your head. “He – he said he would. He said that he loved me a lot and he’d only hit me because he was jealous and afraid I would leave him. All because I told him I regretted not going to your party that Friday… I’m so sorry, Bruce.”

“No apologies needed. You’re not the one to blame here, okay? It’s him, and him alone.” His hands reached up to wipe your tears, and you flinched, the pressure of his fingers on your bruise sending painful memories through your head. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Let’s take care of this, shall we?”

And he did.

Bruce took you to the master bathroom and sat you on top of the counter while he fetched his first-aid kit and a few ointments and creams. Your hands never left him as he worked – on his shirt, on his shoulders, on his hands. He cleaned the bruise with some water and pressed an ice pack against it to reduce the swelling. He told you a few anecdotes that had happened at Wayne Enterprises – angry costumers who tried to scam him, spilled coffees, and other amusing situations – to keep you grounded. His voice was like a lifeline to you.

After the swelling was taken care of, he softly applied ointment around your eye, being careful as to not put too much pressure on the pads of his fingers. He smeared some of it on the tip of your nose, earning a smile from you, before moving on to your lip and taking care of it too. Once all was done, he took a step back.

“Don’t look at me like that…” you mumbled, looking away.

“How?”

“Like that. Like I’m pitiable.”

“Hm.” Bruce tilted his head, pretending to think your statement over, “No. Not pitiable – that’s not who I’m looking at.”

You met his gaze again.

“I’m looking at the bravest woman I have probably ever known.” He crouched in front of you to stay at your eye level. Your hands did not leave his. “I’m looking at a remarkable woman, one with a big heart and a courageous spirit. You’ve endured all of this, and you’re still standing.”

“I’m a coward, Bruce,” you shook your head. “I let him to this to me. I let him break me. He’s right – who would ever love me after him? Who will ever love me like him? Maybe this was a mistake – I shouldn’t have left me. He’s the only one who will love me as I am.”

Bruce was quick to refute you.

“He’s wrong. I hope you know just how wrong he is. Nathan has spent all this time hurting you, lying to you.”

“He hasn’t – I’m broken, I’m damaged goods – who will ever want me?”

“You’re not damaged goods. You hear me? You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. You’re so kind and brave. What you endured is beyond me, and I know I will never understand it, but please believe me when I say that you’re not broken. You’re not damaged. And Nathan is not right. He’s lied to you.”

You looked at him and searched his eyes for any sign of falsehood, of deceit. All you found was kindness. And a warmer emotion you couldn’t pinpoint yet but wanted to figure out.

“You light up even the darkest of days,” Bruce mumbled, moving closer to you. His hand moved to cup your face and you instinctively pressed against it. You’d never felt safer than whenever you were in Bruce’s arms. “And I will do everything in my power to protect you. To keep you safe. The truth is…” He looked at the floor for a few seconds, before meeting your eyes again. “I love you.” You sucked in a breath. “I have, for a while. And I know that’s not what you want to hear right now, nor what you need to hear. And I’m not saying this to force you to be with me, especially after I took care of you. What I’m trying to say is, I don’t expect compensation. I don’t. I’m just saying this because – because I want you to know Nathan is wrong. You’re not damaged goods. And I love you. So much. Ever since I met you, my life has been happier, brighter. For years I’ve had a hole inside of me. Something empty, something that would eat me up from the inside. But then you came along. And you filled that void. And Nathan is so, so wrong, because how could someone not love you? How could someone not love you? How could he try and make you believe you’re not worthy of love, when that’s all you deserve?”

Tears were now streaming down both of your faces. Bruce had never been this vulnerable before, and to his surprise, it didn’t hurt nor scare him. It felt right, to trust you like this, to open up.

“You don’t need to say it back. Please don’t feel forced to say it back. I just wanted you to know that you’re worthy of love, and that I’ll be here to help you. Always. Even if all you feel towards me is friendship. I’ll protect you forever, I promise. He will never touch you again. No one will.”

When you did not reply, Bruce’s stomach fell. Had he screwed up? Had this been a terrible occasion to let you know of his feelings? It wasn’t ideal, no, but he had to tell you. Fuck. He had screwed up, didn’t he? And now he would lose you forever –

You interrupted his thoughts, hands on his jaw, pulling him closer. You blinked slowly – once, twice.

“I love you too,” you whispered, afraid that should you say it any louder, the fantasy might break. “I think I have for a while too. But I was so scared, Bruce… I have nothing to offer – I work a shitty job, and Nathan was paying for everything. My bills, my groceries, my clothes. I was so afraid of leaving. And then whenever I was with you, all I felt… Was happiness.” You chuckled through the tears. “You made me feel so happy, Bruce. And so safe. I always feel safe with you. But I was so scared… I’m so sorry…”

“No – shh. You don’t have to say you’re sorry,” Bruce shook his head, turning to place a kiss on your palm. “You’re so brave. Have I said this already? You’re so brave. I’m so sorry for everything you had to endure. I’m so sorry I didn’t do anything earlier. Shit, I’m an idiot. I should’ve reported him to the police as soon as I realised he was hurting you, but I was too scared he’d turn their heads and you’d get the short end of the stick.”

You smiled, something warm blooming in your chest. Bruce really did care for you, didn’t he?

“My plan was to report him, but I didn’t know if you’d lie to the police in order to cover everything up. I was afraid you would, and he would hurt you further. I’m sorry.”

You repeated his words back to him.

“You don’t have to be sorry. You always stood up for me whenever Nathan was around. You never let him talk to me the way he did whenever you were there. I just wish I hadn’t been so blind… I wish I’d trusted you the first time you told me he was no good… It’s just – we’d been together for so long, and I was so afraid to leave him. Nathan was all I knew. I didn’t want to be alone. I didn’t want to be unloved.”

“You’re not.” Bruce shook his head again. “Not unloved. I love you. You’re worthy of love, and happiness, and kindness, and good things.”

You nodded at him, a single tear running down your cheek. This one, however, was a tear of happiness. Your eyes flickered to his lips, and Bruce whispered.

“Can I kiss you?”

You chuckled.

Bruce raised an eyebrow.

“Is this funny?” he asked with a smile.

“You’re always asking for my permission. If you can touch me, if you can hold me.”

“I would never do anything you were uncomfortable with. Anything you didn’t want.”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Please kiss me,” you mumbled, and no other words were needed, as Bruce closed the space between the two of you and kissed you on the lips.

It was the softest kiss you’d ever had in your entire life. There was no roughness, no edge, no anger, or rage – all the things Nathan kissed you with. Bruce, however, kissed you with love. His lips moved in tandem with yours, brushing and caressing and telling a story of tenderness and warmth. It felt nice. It felt perfect. It felt like you had been made to kiss him. You pulled him up by his shirt, and he did so, placing his hands on either side of the marble to trap you. Your legs spread instinctively to accommodate him, and his hands brushed against your cheeks and hair, fingers shyly exploring, afraid to break the moment he’d been waiting for for so long. It was only a shame it had to be in these circumstances.

When breathing became more important than kissing, you pulled away and Bruce pulled you against his chest. You breathed him in, the smell of cologne and bodywash and something so inherently Bruce calming you down almost instantly.

“Please don’t leave me,” You whispered, gripping his shirt as if it was the only thing keeping you alive right now. And maybe it was. You needed him.

“I wouldn’t even dream of it,” he whispered back, kissing your forehead. “And I’ll fix this. We will fix this.”

“What if he comes after me? He’s a very respected doctor, Bruce, I – I don’t want him to hurt you or anything.”

This caused Bruce to chuckle and pull you back to look at your face. Even with a terrible bruise covering your features, you were the most beautiful women he’d ever laid eyes on. Your courage and kindness only added to that charm. What a lucky guy he was.

“I don’t usually brag about my status, but I happen to be Bruce Wayne. I’ll take care of him. I promise. You won’t have to worry about anything.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. He won’t be able to hurt you anymore.”

You smiled. Bruce loved your smile.

“Do you want to get some sleep?” he asked, caressing the side of your cheek that wasn’t bruised. “I can sleep in one of the guest rooms. My bed is quite comfortable, you can stay there. Unless you want to stay somewhere else? I won’t force you to stay here.”

You shook your head.

“Here is fine. Although…”

“Yes? I’ll do anything.”

A blush crept up on your features.

“I… I don’t want to be alone tonight. I can’t.”

Bruce nodded.

“Do you want me to stay with you?”

“Please.”

Bruce gave you a soft look, a quiet question, asking for your permission. You answered it by lifting your arms and allowing him to pick you up and carry you to his bedroom. He laid you down on his bed, and you sighed at how comfortable it was. He smiled. You looked content as you adjusted, getting under the covers.

“Are you going to join me or just stare at me like that?”

“I’m just happy you’re here. Safe, with me,” he said. “I’m sorry the circumstances were… not the best.”

“I’m here now, though, aren’t I? And so are you.”

“I am. I’m not going anywhere.”

Bruce moved and laid down next to you, pulling the covers over himself. “Can I?” he asked. You nodded, and he wrapped an arm around you, bringing you close to his chest. Your bodies fit perfectly together, like two pieces of a puzzle that had come together at last. You entwined your legs with his and rested your head on his chest while his arms snaked around you, protecting you even in your sleep. The beat of his heart soothed you and lulled you to slumber in an instant.

Before you lost conscience, you felt Bruce’s lips move against your head, and made out a soft “I love you”.

It was the best you’d ever slept.

It was hard adjusting to live after that, but Bruce was there for you every step of the way.

You finally filed a report against Nathan. It was tough, and you cried and doubted yourself when you gave your statement, but with Bruce by your side, you felt like you could do it. He reminded you of how brave you really were, and how much you could accomplish – with him or without him. But you liked his company anyway.

Thanks to Bruce’s resources, an investigation was conducted. You’d kept records of nearly every time the two of you fought in your diary, and even photographed every bruise he’d given you. He did not know of this, of course. You did it whenever he was asleep, a small voice in your head telling you it’d be useful to bring him down.

Apparently that little voice had been right, and your pictures were essential for the investigation.

Your friends testified in your favour, and you had cried when they’d hugged you after, congratulating you on your bravery, and lamenting what you’d gone through. You’d missed them so much.

All seemed like it was going in the right direction.

Your old apartment had been cleared, and although you’d gotten a place of your own (Bruce told you he did not want you to feel like you had to move in with him simply because he was helping you out and you two were in the beginning of a relationship), you found yourself spending more time at Bruce’s manor than your own house, and you quickly sold it in order to move in with him.

Everything was going perfectly.

You felt happy – more than ever – going about your daily job, meeting with friends for coffee and lunch and walks on the park without being berated or yelled at. Bruce supported you on every endeavour you went on, encouraging you to spend time with your friends and go out with them, instead of keeping you home all to himself like Nathan did.

In fact, Bruce was the perfect boyfriend. He’d bring you breakfast in bed sometimes, offer you rides to your job, bring you flowers when he could tell you’d had a hard day, and even when he had to cancel date nights or other plans you two had made because of some last minute emergency at Wayne Enterprises, he made it up to you later, with lots of love and reassurance, perhaps a bouquet of flowers and a ticket to whatever event you’d been interested in.

Bruce reminded you of what love felt like. True love. He never raised his voice at you, opting to voice out his concerns in a calming manner. He never made you feel like you weren’t worthy of him – quite the contrary. Every single day, he thanked you for choosing him, letting you know just how lucky he was to have you in his life.

Alfred liked you too – very much. He adopted you as his family rather quickly, teaching you how to make your favourite drinks (even better than you used to do them), and spending time with you whenever Bruce wasn’t home, and you felt particularly lonely. He liked having you around. In his opinion, “Master Wayne was in need of a woman’s touch in his house and his life”. You couldn’t agree more and loved him immensely.

There was only one time you crossed paths with Nathan after you’d left him that night.

The Gotham Police had gathered enough information and evidence to build a case against him, and you’d been called to testify. You weren’t sure you wanted to do it – you were still scared of whatever he could do to you.

That day, Bruce sat you down on his lap, kissed your forehead and promised Nathan wouldn’t even be able to touch you, and that he and your friends would be there.

It was all the reassurance you needed, and although you choked back a sob once or twice once your gaze met his, your testimony was clear and strong, and it was enough for the trial to be wrapped up in around two days (and perhaps Bruce had pulled a few strings to get it over it so quickly, but you didn’t need to know that, now did you?)

As he was being handcuffed, Nathan turned to you, face twisted in agony.

“Babe – “ he yelled, doing his best to free himself from the police officers’ grips. “I’m so sorry – tell them this is just a misunderstanding! Tell them! I love you so much, fuck, don’t let them do this to me!”

When it was obvious you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of an answer, he furrowed his eyebrows.

“You slut! You stupid bitch! I bet you’re fucking him, aren’t you? You’re fucking the rich bastard, aren’t you? I knew it! You’re a slut – you’re disgusting! No one will ever love you as I loved you, you’re a slut now, and you’ll be a slut fore – “

Bruce’s fist collided with Nathan’s face, promptly shutting him the fuck up. He adjusted his cuffs and his blazer and offered you a doe-eyed look.

“I didn’t do anything. I don’t know what you’re talking about. Officers, I’ll be sure to guarantee you all a very nice Christmas bonus if you keep this little incident in between us.”

The excited nods from the officers around him were enough of an answer for him to walk away unscathed. That, and your giggles.

“Couldn’t stand hearing him go on and on about you like that,” he’d muttered to you lately as you cuddled up together on the couch and watched a movie.

That was the last you saw and heard of Nathan. You’d heard Bruce tell Alfred that he was going to be locked up for eternity one day, and while it was suspicious (surely it wouldn’t warrant him a life sentence, would it?), the thought of Bruce using his influence to put your abusive ex-boyfriend behind bars forever made you smile.

Right now, you were sitting on top of a plaid picnic blanket in the gardens of Wayne Manor. On your right hand was a book, on your left hand the chocolate brown curls of your boyfriend, whose head was resting on top of your lap.

You had never felt so at peace with yourself.

Your physical scars had faded, bruises had healed, leaving your soft skin as it once was, but you were sure the emotional ones would remain. Luckily, you had the best boyfriend in the world to aid you in every step of the way.

His voice pulled you from your thoughts.

“You’re beautiful,” he mumbled, eyes closed. This was one of his favourite things to do – lay on your lap after a hard week and relax under the sun. It was one of your favourites as well. You got to spend time with the person you loved the most and remind yourself that even though your life was so dark once, it could get better. It was getting better.

“You’re not so bad yourself, handsome.”

“Not so bad?”

“Fine. You’re the most handsome man I have ever seen in my entire life.”

“Hmm. That’s a lot of responsibility.” He raised an eyebrow.

“I think you’ll manage.”

Bruce chuckled and lifted his head up ever so slightly. You rolled your eyes with a smile. How needy. Bending down, you met him halfway, kissing him tenderly. His tongue swept over your lower lip, and you sighed contentedly before he pulled away and closed his eyes.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Bruce. So much.”

Yes.

Everything was going to be better.

A/N: And that's it! Oh my god what a rollercoaster hahaha! I hope you guys enjoyed this! I understand all abusive relationships are different - a lot of this came from my own experience.

I also hope the ending, the little epilogue wasn't too rushed! I wanted it to be a nice conclusion, not dwelling too much on the past, but rather focusing on the hope of the future.

Alright, this is all! I think I'll take a break from Bruce fics for a while, hahaha. Once again, I really do hope you all enjoyed this.

Have a wonderful day ahead! <3

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne x you #bale!bruce wayne #bale!batman x reader #bale!batman #bale!bruce wayne x reader #the dark knight #the dark knight trilogy #nolanverse #the dark knight fanfiction #the dark knight fanfic #bruce wayne fanfiction #bruce wayne x fem!reader

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alavestineneas · 16 days

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and if you are there, why do i feel alone in this room?

pairing: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!reader summary: The woman—a siren, some kind of sea beast lurking in deep, salted waters—sits near him with the ottoman under her feet that still seemed to deny her the comfort of rest, her eyes glinting with mischief when she notices his stare. Taunts, even, forge obliviousness to the spells she casts. Strange, otherworldly—redundant. Everything about her, down to the light gown and a headdress that showed little of her face, Feyd-Rautha was not used to seeing. warnings: mentions of death, violence, implied/referenced child abuse, religious symbolism, mentions of sa (!), blood and other parts of body, very non-healthy relationships chapter 1 - chapter 2 - chapter 3 !this work is part 2 to the i can feel the soil falling over my head; no people are here, just the void in my chest! word count: 7,3k

author's notes: hi beautiful people! today, I have finally finished this chapter and am thrilled to say that this fic requires part 3! be aware that this piece of literature is explicit and touches on some very heavy themes, including sa and child abuse. Please be mindful of it! As always, your opinions, suggestions, and critiques are welcome in the comments. Love you, and have a tasty read!

There are a lot of books stored in her memory, locked in the neurocytes safely. They are tucked into the cortex with love and tenderness that YN otherwise taught herself to suppress as a sign of her weaker self. But papers were non-living, so she felt like it was less dangerous for her to show warmth towards them; after all, if the objects can not acknowledge your love, does it really count as real? She read everything, mostly in an attempt to prepare herself for something she did not know the face of; she read to build the shield around herself, in desperate hope to be able to help at least her future self. YN read even now, although her foolish childhood desires were long gone, just to get a glimpse of the girl she was before the monsters escaped the pages.

The book she re-read the most was nothing special, nothing suiting the image she moulded herself into—a giant, relatively old encyclopaedia of animals inhabiting the furthest corners of Known Imperium. The letters inside, although faded a little, were left almost untouched by eyes—maybe it was what drew her in in the first place—to cherish something seen as unneeded. YN learned the small paragraphs almost by heart; she liked the idea of someone taking enough time to observe something as small as a roden to know its habits. She liked the idea of it happening to her one day. As it always is, it did not.

She chose her favourite animal without that much thought. Although even the notion of having something beloved was foolish, YN was made to choose; she and her sisters played the game of forest most often. The game was simple: pretend to be a creature you are not, forgetting the countless rules they had to follow. Pretending they have claws and teeth; pretending they can protect themselves not through intrigues and hidden motives but through open, bold force. Irulan was always a Katanga Lioness; she liked it because of the proximity to their house's symbol. YN did not; the grey pages of her beloved book described them as "observed to also scavenge on carrion of animals that were killed by other predators or died from natural causes''. What king of the animals steals the work of others simply to feed themselves? She did not tell Irulan that, of course—why would she?

YN chose a mountain lion for herself. Sure, she may have made a mistake thinking it was just another type of lion, but the game went too far to change anything, so she stuck with that. She even grew to love it—the drawing of the mountain lion on her character sheet, the way it prowled through the forest in her mind's eye. It had many names and many homes. Adaptive. Captivating.

She does not know why it came into her mind suddenly—maybe it was the dim light of the closed arena. The air circulated here freely, cooling through the complex systems of vents, even though it seemed to be deprived of any life—just a mechanical circle of the same molecules moving around her seated figure and returning to the hidden openings again and again. YN looked straight ahead; the two men were still sparring.

From her bench, they looked like one—two bodies moved so swiftly that one was unable to differentiate where the lines of their limbs ended. YN squinted her eyes; she was alone in the seating area, and still, she dared not move closer. The taller, thinner figure possessed skin so white it looked almost translucent underneath the cold light—YN wondered if she would be able to see the structures in his body through his clothed stomach. He moved well, almost too well for her not to press her lower row of teeth to the top one, hiding the tongue in a cave of pearl bones—she had hoped he was worse with his bare hands. YN had counted four hundred and five seconds before he made a mistake in his steps; it was a lot more than her own results, but for a man, he was good.

Feyd-Rautha had style; she had to give him that. He fought like a serpent would: calculated, precise. His fists knew the most effective targets, and his legs knew how to escape the blows of his opponent. If YN was to guess, he relied on muscle memory less than a usual fighter would, preferring to dwell in the moment instead. It made for a good show, sure, but it was not practical. She smiled to herself; of course, the na-Baron could not know what the real battle was like. How unfortunate for him—how delightful for her. YN still can't believe he let her watch his training every morning—was he really that stupid not to realise her motive? Was he too confident to consider having weaknesses?

Regardless, she saw what she needed to do - for three hours every day, she set unmovingly on the third bench in a small fighting ground, imprinting his every move in her mind. There are so many moves you can use and so many tricks you can do before she learns them all. YN did not care for the cold gaze thrown in her direction when Feyd-Rautha collapsed on the ground, taking a moment to rest before lurching onto his opponent again. She can wait.

Mountain lions are stealthy predators.

The days she spent here changed into months, their slow steps morphing into each other until time became a blur, a concept she did not grasp. Feyd-Rautha was a hard one to warm, but before she would mould him into something she wanted, YN needed to heat his DNA to a certain magnitude; otherwise, he would simply break. She would've gladly accepted this turn of fate too, but right now, keeping na-Baron alive is far more convenient for the Bene Gessarit. For her.

A concubine. A slap in the face: it seemed like life was determined to dissolve the small bits of her dignity in its endless pool of secrets. She was not a wife to Harkonnen na-Baron; no, she was to be his whore. If she was not too tired, she would've felt a pang of fear on her rising with oxygen lungs; a concubine's position is even lower here compared to one of a lawful wife's. YN remembers the words of her teacher as she prepared her for the union: Harkonnen concubines are killed after their first night in a position; if one is lucky enough to escape the fate by being with a child, she bears him until it's time for the baby to be born. One of the greatest honours for a Harkonnen is to take the life of his mother as soon as he enters the world.

She was to join na-Baron for breakfast today—a proposal YN waited long to receive, but part of her wishes she never did. It was worded like an invitation; YN knows it was not. Harkonnens rarely spoke when they did not give orders—a creature of habit, she supposed. So, she did what she had to: follow the slave to the chambers designated for the meal. The hem of her dress shone with a colour so foreign to the fort around her; YN needed to make herself stand out. Men are much like children, she learned—the more colourful the toy, the more likely they will want to play with it.

The walls were heavy here. They didn't bend in the shapes she was used to, preferring to stand tall. They didn't have to hide their strength underneath a complicated facade—quite the opposite. They paraded it, wearing it like the honour it is. Staying unremorsefully unbending. Maybe it's the air or a different measure of gravity; maybe it's her habit of soaking up the surroundings and letting them poison her insides, growing rotten in between the folds of her stomach tissue, but her legs are metal, stone-cold, pulling YN deeper and deeper into the floor. She tries so hard to ignore the three creatures in the corner.

They are hairless, much like the man in front of her, and dressed in matching black. YN would've mistaken them for Harkonnen royalty if it were not for the iron collars on their necks and the glowing black eyes that seemed to follow her every move. She would've been happy to have some company and not be forced into solitude with na-Baron if it were not for a still convulsing body on the floor. A body she did not recognise, but it could've easily been her own.

The creatures seemed to enjoy the involuntary moves of the soon-to-be corpse; they closed their eyes in delight and bared the sharp, black-coloured teeth in sheer pleasure as they lurched into the white flesh. They ripped it apart with only their hands, not bothering to use the prepared knives for more than a big incision from head to stomach. The sounds of chewing and gnawing filled the room, echoing off the walls and sending electric impulses down her body. YN was used to the metallic smell and the bright colour of arterial blood, but this was not a simple death. It was a show, and she was the long-awaited watcher.

Feyd-Rautha seemed unbothered by the sight near him. His hands, covered in thick streaks of blood, were deep to his elbows in the body. He dissected the corpse with precision, his eyes focused and his grip steady. He looked calm, even peaceful. Na-Baron was in good humour today. ''I must say, your arrival has graced us with much more than just the dowery; nothing could've made this union more auspicious—such a rare bird you are, daughter of our generous Emperor. A princess, yet treated no better than a common slave.''

Here it was: the thing she was thinking about all the way to this strange, garbage planet in the dress that pokes bleeding holes in her abdomen with each glass she downs. From his lips, it sounds even more bitter; even savages found the way the Emperor sold one of his daughters so easily strange. "Both of our houses have traditions far beyond our understanding," YN shrugs, scaring her thoughts away like annoying flies. Here, in a room so far from the comfort of her home, they moved too fast, bringing nausea to her throat.

She is here to secure the bloodline of House Harkonnen, to ensure the balance needed in the Imperium. YN does not notice how suddenly her gaze darkens or how tightly the hands that rested on the chair are now holding the pleated velvet of her ruby-red gown. Oh, the baby. The tiny creature inside her womb, the future head for the Baron's crown to be placed upon. The yet unconcieved child she could not feel love for. She was given no other choice but to risk its life before even giving it a chance to obtain its gift.

''Then you will find my present to be quite fitting.''

YN watches in silence as na-Baron reaches inside the rib cage of the corpse. He reaps out an organ with one swift motion, almost like plucking a harmful sprout from the garden. The organ is broun and rosewood, a weird mixture of shades that make it harder for her to focus on anything but the thing in his large hand. The gift he meant to give was a human heart.

She feels his walk long before she sees a figure departing from its place at the table; she guesses the end point of his manoeuvres too easily. It's almost funny—a cruel, senseless joke; how obvious the slight tremor in her hands is; how heavy her eyes become at the sight of Harkonnen black. The body positions itself near; if she squints, she can hear the hot breathing somewhere between her shoulder blades. His hand snakes around her neck quickly, positioning the organ right in front of her mouth. YN can detect the smell hitting her nostrils before she closes the receptors in them. She wants to scream, but the notes die in her throat. Who would she scream for? She hears the creatures hiss and whisper—the heart is a good part, from what she can make out. It did not need to be wasted on people like her.

''Will you not accept it?'' Feyd-Rautha's words are mocking, but his dark blue eyes stay virgin to the laughter. They drill small spots on her neck from behind with such force that YN can almost feel the burnt smell of her sweat-covered skin.

She takes a breath. Her own heart shrinks, its vessels beating with intensity twice as much as needed. Still alive, she notes absently. Still breathing. The feeling is natural and easy; the forced calmness in her body tingles the muscles, braiding her nerves into a pattern similar to the netting. Then, she opens her mouth.

"If I shall lick the blood of your hands, Feyd-Rautha, dare to make it your own."

That's it.

Maybe the Emperor was right to spare her none of the Sardaukars and a quarter of her dresses. She did not need more; she was not expected to survive long enough to use half of her clothes. YN chucked under her breath. Dead over diet preferences—how profound.

After a moment, the pale face behind her also twists, allowing the blackened teeth to escape the grip of thin lips. Like this, na-Baron looks less human and more like the evil he was said to be. He throws the heart to the creatures—they catch it greedily—and places a bloodied hand on her shoulder, the droplets of crimson going unnoticed on the brightly coloured cloth. ''Very well, then. Let us eat.''

YN nods. She looks around almost instinctively; nothing could make her eat a thing after the sight she just witnessed, but she refuses the na-Baron once; she is not about to do it again. The food is a lot, but her plate is almost empty: only a small amount of salad is here, sadly staring into the hunger in her eyes and a now featherless creature in an unnatural pose, suggesting its non-poetical death. The bird is small, almost delicate; its wings are pitifully glued to the body. YN does not want to let her mind draw the comparison, and does not allow her brain to admit a direct analogy; she dissects the bird with a dull knife and puts a piece in her dry mouth. The creature tastes good—almost too good to be expected in this brightly lit hall.

Most often deer is the mountain lion’s staple diet. However, they can survive preying on small animals as well.

The night covers Giedi Prime rather quickly; it never lingers, politely waiting for its masters to finish their daily affairs; it hits like a coward, from behind, trapping those not careful enough to hide before its arrival. The harsh, toxic waves of lazy winds hit the walls of the halls coldly lighted with a few sphears; they look like deep forest clearings, forming a system of endless options, ultimately leading to one, inevitable, end. His work chambers aren't big; he does not visit them often for them to be. The solitary metal desk before him is filled with letters, drafts of laws, and official documents, all waiting for his approval. It exhausts Feyd-Rautha to no end, the sheer stupidity of most of the advisers here; almost half of the documents were riddled with errors and inconsistencies. The forever present in his head dull migraine grows stronger when he opens the shortest letter; he almost busts his skull open when the pain heavies.

He ponders too much—the type of thoughts you can feel running on your tongue but never escaping. He is not used to being in the mist; all of his life is so painfully contrasted that no doubt of its nature can survive the sharp edge of his mind. There are things he can escape—forget, even—but some linger in his ribcage too long for them to vanish. Soon, they grow into his lungs with small, unbreakable threads, becoming him. He used to try to get them away from his heart, as if it held some value. Now, he is smarter, older, and more indifferent, he lets them pierce yet another piece of human flesh with no sorrow.

Of course, he remembered her face. The same face that haunted his sleep ever since she dared to appear before his eyes. Feyd-Rautha, naturally, found her little frolic that day. He spent an entire evening studying her work, analysing every move she could've made with her blade to achieve such outcomes. Sure, some things he would've done differently, but the sheer brutality of an animal he would not have guessed the girl possessed charmed him. Feyd-Rautha was a proud man, but he, too, held a love for beautiful things. For that, he hadn't told the Baron of the sight he discovered in the reading room. For that, he is now willing to pretend to believe her eyes when the fear fleshes in them.

Feyd-Rautha curses; she sickens. Like a bone stuck somewhere down his throat, not letting him live without a pang of mocking. She lurks, and whispers—Feyd-Rautha wants to smash her pretty head against the wall just to reveal the secrets she hides from him so he can finally understand the hold she retains. He is no stranger to the desire to own, or devour, but the fear in the back wall of his stomach is an alien in his body. He tries to hide it—to paint over it with anger or violence—but it remains a constant presence, gnawing at him from within. It's no use; the woman is a shark, designed to sense the fright. Maybe that's what brought him in in the first place—the steel eyes so similar to his own in a narrow hall all those years before. Maybe he was so used to the danger that he craved it subconsciously, looking for it to make him feel like himself again. A reoccurring childhood nightmare he can't escape; he doesn't want to escape.

Feyd-Rautha finds the chair to put his weight on and waits until the tingling, spinning sensation spreads from his temples down his neck, finding its way into his bloodstream and passing his organs one by one, until none are left uncorrupted. Of course, he expects it. The woman slipped into his brain and now chews her way into it like a parasite downs the rotten body. He knows he should be terrified, but instead, he feels a strange sense of relief. Feyd-Rautha can hear the whispers of his own mind fighting to remain the only owners of the secrets and desires buried within. He feels his eyelids heavy; a second later, the whites of his eyes are staring at the ceiling, the blue eye lenses dissolving in light.

Water. The first thing he feels is ice-cold water dripping onto his face, filling his lungs, and sending a shock through his arms. This body does not feel like his; it's too small, too narrow. His eyes are trying to adjust as fast as they can, jumping from one blurred spot to another until finally catching a glimpse of the surroundings. His brain does not have time to process the picture; his nose is filled with fluid again, and his open mouth is gasping for air but only taking in more liquid. He tries waving his hands around, but the stronger grip is firm on his nape, pulling him further down into the depths. The hand yanked him out just as he was about to fall into darkness again, the sound of water changing to loud screeching.

''How dare you hit me, devil child? Let the water wash away your dirt. Repent; beg for forgiveness for all of your rotten nature.''

The voice is unknown to him; it is harsh and filled with fury. The woman's face is twisted in anger; splashes of water on it match his. He can't tell if they are from his antics or tears. The woman's grip tightens, her nails digging into his skin. The black clothes on her figure make her status known - a Bene Gessarit witch. Feyd-Rautha tries to lurch forward and hit her back, but her strength is overwhelming. He feels panic coursing through his veins instead of oxygen—a sensation he did not think he could experience anymore. He wants to bark a response to show her that he is not afraid, but his voice catches in his throat.

Feyd-Rautha has no time to wonder what the woman wants; she brings his face to the bathtub again, and he opens his mouth involuntarily, frantically begging not to do it anymore. He says everything she wants to hear; he cries out and promises to wash his sins away. The voice does not sound like his at all. He is desperate to end this nightmare now, but some force holds him here. The woman is not satisfied; her ears are deaf to his pleas.

His face ends up on the water surface a moment later, his nose hitting the wall of the bathtub as the woman holds him down. He feels his body go limp with utter horror; this time, the shouting woman won't stop. Her voice grows quieter, replaced by the sound of small waves hitting the brim and spilling; from right to left, the water turns red, and his tongue tastes the iron he knows from sliding blades into his mouth.

''Echidna, what the fuck are you doing? Let her go; she is going to choke!''

''Get that spawn to me, for I will not let her ruin my life anymore! I must finish what I have started!''

Feyd-Rautha's head is filled with oxygen once again; his lungs take a desperate breath in, sending too much air to his blood system. He falls on his back, the world spinning. He does not care for the weeping woman in black or the chaos unfolding around him. His only thought is that everything is finally done and that the white floors are a magnificent place for drops of liquid to fall from his normally bald head's waterfall of hair.

He wakes up suddenly, the sensation long gone. His steps are heavy again; the body he inhibits no longer feels like a cage. The voices have left him for now, and the only thing on his forehead left is small drops of sweat and a pathetic, frightened, beating heart. The cold breeze from the darkened sands surrounding the city wishes to prove otherwise—it heavies and plants its spikes into his reddened cheeks. The horizon gleams at him, almost taunting; not a single star is to be seen under the imposing clouds. He will kill her; maybe he will even enjoy it. Feyd-Rautha can handle a lot, but not the shame of being seen. Not the guilt of being caught wanting.

There are only three ways to hunt a mountain lion: tracking, waiting in ambush, and with dogs.

The gliding motions of heavy fabrics across the wooden floors created a strange pattern of a song now centuries old. Here, in a room so long that the wind travelled through the hollows, her careful steps seemed to almost fall silent. Nothing was there for the preying eyes to see. YN closes her eyes; with that, even for a moment, the world stays still. She knows where the hollow staircase will lead her; she feels it in her stomach with every step she takes. YN knows nothing about the future, but the past lives deep in her memories, haunting her every move. She knows she shouldn't have done it. Travelling through one's mind is a sin she can't escape; she will pay the price for it in her blood, but the Bene Gesarit did not send her here to survive, so it's of no use to be afraid now. It makes no difference for the dead if you weep at their grave or not.

The burning sphere of light in the hall stops spinning; the doors open without any noise, although if the pounding eardrums had not stunned her hearing, she could've noticed the faint thuds. YN waits; there are no flashes of her happiest memories or the faces of her loved ones in her drained mind. No, in what seems to be her last moments, she thinks of what she could've been if the world had not given her a sword to turn into.

Feyd-Rautha appears in the hall; his steps aren't rushed, and his expression is stone-cold. She eyes him shamelessly: nothing. She sees nothing; she senses it deep in her crying bones. He drags her by the hair like a mother would with her misbehaving child; roughly, he pulls her towards the exit, his grip tightening with each step until the door behind them closes and her knees meet the cold ground with a nasty thud. The bruises will stain them soon, not that it matters now.

''You should've known better than to cross me,'' he hisses, his voice gruff. It's cold, chilling—the way his lips part to reveal a sinister smile. ''Now, you can think yourself vanished, little witch.''

YN does not answer—what fool would beg the deaf? The blade against her chin is sharp; she knows how attentive he is when it comes to inflicting pain. It pokes right into the Omehyoid muscle, a dull pain shooting through her body. If she has got to die, it may as well be from his skilled arms. How beautiful he is in the twisted pleasure he finds in her suffering. Unearthly, almost too perfect to be made of simple flesh and bone. Something was unnerving, unforgettable in the net of veins under his pearly skin; it was as if he were a work of art, meticulously crafted to bring physical pain and optical pleasure in equal measure. A silver glint under the defined cheekbones, a redness of lips filled with blood vessels. For a second, YN wonders what it would be like to bite into it, like an apple that lay too long under the golden sun; would the blood slip as generously as the sweet nectar? Handsome as poison, as a black sun on his forsaken planet, as death.

''Go on. Kill me, then; let me escape you once and for all.''

Under the deep sea of his eyes, something moved; his eyes dipped into her, part by part. Like the slow, deliberate dance of a predator stalking its prey, his gaze lingered on her, calculating and intense. YN lowered her head to push the knife a little deeper into the flesh. A strange thought lingered in her brain; she found herself on her knees in front of him, almost willingly. She has worshipped God all her life; who, if not her, can recognise his creation? The Devil. Lucifer. Satan. The man with horns so big they once touched the skies; a corrupt angel, fallen from grace so long ago he couldn't remember way back if he tried. They have warned her about him, but is it her fault that God has disowned her earlier than she could? Did it really matter to her, before whom to kneel, as long as she felt a sense of power and control in her submission?

All that mattered now was that he wanted to hurt her. He wanted her.

She sees the recognition flicker on his face. Caught. The blade slides quickly across her exposed neck, the blood sprouting out in a weak, painfully quick stream. Feyd-Rautha kissed her, biting her bottom lip till the stream of boldly coloured blood trickled down his chin. He did so like an animal would, baring his teeth and dragging them across the pulsating vein on her neck. YN's laughing cry echoes in the empty room; she is forced to admit that he felt good.

Never approach a mountain lion; most mountain lions prefer to avoid confrontations, so never approach them and make them feel cornered.

The woman—a siren, some kind of sea beast lurking in deep, salted waters—sits near him with the ottoman under her feet that still seemed to deny her the comfort of rest, her eyes glinting with mischief when she notices his stare. Taunts, even, forge obliviousness to the spells she casts. Strange, otherworldly—redundant. Everything about her, down to the light gown and a headdress that showed little of her face, Feyd-Rautha was not used to seeing. The beautiful substance of her hair caught the light from the sun like a mirage in the desert, reflecting in his eyes with painful hits. The jewels, too, have found their way onto her clothes, but they were hidden beneath the layers of fabric. They shined brightly, impertinently, framing her figure in a glow that seemed to come from within.

To his surprise, the skills woman possessed spread out to politics as well, with her witch training proving useful in court. Feyd-Rautha did not miss how his advisors grew more uneasy when she entered the room, her careful eyes scanning their faces for even a hint of betrayal or deceit. Like a proud discoverer, he ached to share his new-found wonder with the blind audience, but something in him protested in a mare thought of showing the precious jewel of his eye to the cluster of unworthy. So, Feyd-Rautha did the only thing he knew how— all of his secret observations were done from afar, masterfully hidden behind the facade of casual indifference.

As he drags yet another blade across the surface of the whetstone, he thinks about her delicate hands on his neck, her ringed fingers tracing the lines of his jaw. Harkonnen men rarely wed; they just take what they capture—men and women—and turn them into slaves. Some, if particularly sweet, are reserved for fucking. There are no special songs for that; there isn't a specific word in their native tongue for wife, either. It doesn't matter; YN is nothing of the sort. A concubine, a possession, a tool for pleasure and procreation—the Harkonnen way was simple.

''Are you done eye-fucking me now, or do you need more time with your blade?'' she sneers, her voice mocking. Only she could get away with such bold defiance in his presence, but she does not seem to care for the unusualness of it.

YN motions for him to come closer, her eyes studying the way his legs move. Feyd-Rautha has no control over them; the steps make themselves. She plays the game very well; the chase fuels something primal within him. Thirst. Hunger. It was the Harkonnen training talking to him—the wild, ancient sensation taking over his insides and imprisoning his mind in a cage of helpless desire. It spread its tentacles down to his fingertips, nesting in his abdomen. He positions himself in front of her, his body betraying him as he leans in closer, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Feyd-Rautha's hands repeat the ritual almost instinctively, rolling the hem of her deep purple dress up to her waist.

''Stop for a second,'' she whispers against his ear, her breath warm and inviting. ''Can I give you a piece of advice?''

Feyd-Rautha can feel the anger creeping into his body; he does not like to be refused. ''No,'' he grumbles, turning her around forcefully. "I don't need your advice," he snaps, his grip tightening on her arm.

YN does not seem to care for it. ''Don't do it. It will only lead to trouble.''

''What?'' He stops, his eyes narrowing as he absorbs the woman's words. The doubts that had lingered in the back of his mind suddenly grew louder, echoing through his mind. He releases her arm, his expression stoic. ''You are insane, woman. What are you talking about?''

''You know what I mean.''

The unease boils in his stomach. How could she know? He was careful not to slip anything; she wasn't able to cast her spells anymore either. But her knowing gaze tells him otherwise. ''You can not know the future,'' he pronounces.

''I don't need to know the future to see the truth, Feyd-Rautha. Your judgement is clouded by rage, and your mind is not as sharp as it usually is. You are not as invincible as you think you are.''

She is bluffing, he thinks. He hopes she is. Feyd-Rautha almost wished there was no cloth covering her face, nothing to hide her expressions as she lay beneath him. He catches her flamed eyes and the way they circle his face in one swift motion before settling on the ceiling above. It unnerves him, but he refuses to show it. She is no master here; she is simply a servant. That is not what power looks like, if he ever recognised one, and Feyd-Rautha knew power.

''Get out, now.''

Nothing was portrayed on her face as she curtseyed; nothing was there when she turned and walked to her rooms, leaving nothing but the ghost of the human body's warmth.

Mountain lions are more at home in brushy areas than in open prairies.

And then, he disappeared. Like the sound of the morning birds falling silent in the cacophony of voices of the city on her home planet, there was no trace of na-Baron in the entire Harkonnen fortress. YN thought she was slowly but surely going mad; no one but her noticed the usual place by the window empty, and no one but her seemed to care enough to know where he went. She caught strange looks from a few, and frankly, she thought they were right. She looked like a mad woman, her hair quickly plated and her dress hurriedly laced, her eyes darting around the room in search of any sign of Feyd-Rautha's massive figure. Noon was dragged into the evening, and then night, for three, long days until she heard the long-awaited news: na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen had tried to usurp his uncle and had failed.

She has told him so. A fucking brainless ram, with stubbornness bigger than his cock—why did he think he could outsmart the Baron? He will pay for his dumbness with his blood, perhaps even his limb—the thought brought nausea to YN's throat. She was lucky the Baron did not consider her important enough to be knowledgeable of such schemes; she lowered her head in the desert, hiding from the sand storms of Harkonnen politics; she waited for two long weeks until the announcement was made; Feyd-Rautha was forgiven. The celebration in honour of this news is to be today; she is to attend it. Not like his concubine, YN supposed, but more like the princess she still was.

Now, she took her time. YN chose a gown she wanted long enough to make even a tireless slave yawn, savouring each moment before their meeting. She was a victor now, in their small game of cat and mouse. He was a cat, but the mouse could still outwit him with grace and style. YN smiled at the wondering attendants; she looked good, and she was going to meet him.

The walk from her chambers to the Grand Hall wasn't too long; she would've walked a thousand more stairs if it was needed. The doors opened without a sound, revealing nothing but a mere celebration of yet another year under the reign of Harkonnens. The lines of slaves changed one another, the uneven circles of people dancing appearing and fleeing to the cheerful tone of strings. She was set somewhere between two Harkonnen lords she had no chance of knowing; she felt a sense of unease creeping up her spine as she tried to maintain a polite smile. Their gazes didn't look right; something sinister lurked inside them—hiding a secret she had no chance of knowing.

One of them turned to her, a chilling smile spreading across his face. "How are you finding the evening, lady YN? Or, what should I call you?,'' he mastered a fake confusion. ''Perhaps, darling? Concubine has a cheap wing to it; quite unworthy of a face so lovely as yours, don't you think?"

Dirt. The thing that crawled under her skin at his words was like dirt, making her feel unclean and exposed. She forced a laugh, trying to brush off his comments, the crown of her hair moving with muscles underneath her skin. "I am a princess, my Lord. Address me as such."

It would be enough every other noon, but today. The man's face twists, as if he just remembered something; he turns, the wine in his goblet splashing on the tablecloth. ''I think na-Baron wouldn't be too angry if I stole a princess for the night," he sneered, his eyes darkening with malice.

''Does it matter to you either way?''

YN watches as the smirk, so similar to Feyd-Rautha's, appears on the men's lips, although it doesn't feel the same. She fights back disgust as the man nods, biting into a hefty chunk of prey. His eyes, once focused on her, drifted away. YN chose to follow them; the string of fat streaming down the man's mouth onto the silver tablecloth made her nauseous. She looked from one unfamiliar face to another, until the cold feeling in her abdomen crept its way onto her chest.

There he was. His figure is unusually crouching as he sits on the podium reserved for members of the dynasty. The dark blue eyes are red now; the thin blood vessels in them are torn and emptied. His body seemed to suck the light out of the hall inside, casting a shadow over the room. There are no scars on his smooth face, but the sunken cheeks and hollow eyes spoke of a suffering that went beyond physical wounds. YN almost wished she saw him dead; whatever this was, it was surely much worse. He raised his eyes slowly to meet hers; something flickered in them before turning back to their empty state. Feyd-Rautha parts his dry lips to say something to her—she can't understand a word he draws with his breath.

From the place nearby, the Baron's voice booms, his low, almost whisper-like vowels mending into one. His face, covered with layers of skin and dead cells, twists into what was meant to be a welcoming smile—the corners of his paper-thin lips dance, lowering themselves only to jump higher, and his eyes travel from one corner to another, unable to be still even for a moment. He speaks of things YN knows nothing about court intrigue, power struggles, and alliances that shape the fate of their world, heavy with hidden meanings and unspoken threats. She does not listen until he gestures towards her, a scent of spice and decomposing flesh lingering.

''Sergeant Voss has served me well, and his loyalty at the right time is not to be forgotten. Here, I bestow upon him the highest honour of all; what was once mine, is now his. Do not let go of her if she screams, Sergeant; the girl is a fine one.''

No. YN almost does not recognise the hand as her own as the man drags her to the bed that appeared out of nowhere, freezing with horror as the people around her continue to watch in silence, their eyes devoid of any emotion or empathy. The tradition, she notes, is the one she learned so much about bedding in front of the entire court as a symbol of unity. She choked on her own tears as the man smiled at her pleas for help; they seemed to make him even more pleased.

YN looks, frantically, to the place she saw Feyd-Rautha sitting just a moment before. He would help; surely, he would not let them do it to her—his servant, his concubine, his. But the seat is empty. The scream echoing through the hall does not register as hers right away; he has sold her. For his own freedom, for a chance to be free from the consequences of his own stupid actions. Surely, the Harkonnens could not get rid of her openly—it would mean war—but she was not immune to the man who now owned her. His hands travelled her body with such audacity that YN wanted to cut them off—to cut her chest just so she could not feel the fingers digging into her skin. A sole reminder she was a woman first and a human second.

Mountain lions are solitary hunters.

The man undressed himself quickly; all of the soldiers were trained to do so. She should run; she should fight back, but the pair of unmoving hands pinning her wrists down was a stark reminder of her helplessness. The man lowers himself closer, his hot breath against her neck making her shudder in fear. She can feel him against her skirts; she can feel the weight of his body pressing down on her. The adrenaline is pumping through her veins; she will survive. Whatever it fucking takes, even if her body is bruised and broken, she will survive.

They prefer to ambush their prey from behind by swiftly and cleanly breaking the neck.

She bites—her teeth launch towards his cheek, feeling the warm flesh give way beneath her. She sinks them deeper, making holes big enough to draw blood. It's hot, and sickening on her tongue, but she does not have time for these thoughts; her next blow is in his stomach, with his knee jammed into his gut. She can feel his body convulse in pain, giving her a chance to throw him on the bed, his broad back facing her.

If they haven’t broken the neck, they will suffocate the animal.

There is nothing around that could serve as a knife; her captors made sure of that, and the sheets are too thin to wrap around his neck. She looks around the room, desperate for something to use, but the space around her is empty. YN curses as the man regains his composure and begins to struggle against her hold. Her elbow meets his nose with a sickening crunch, causing blood to spurt out. She takes a breath in; her hand wraps around his neck, forming a tight hold as she goes into the headlock. She chokes him, so desperately trying to live. And the man trashes against her grip, his white face turning a deep shade of purple before finally going limp in her arms.

Shame.

A thing that followed her after every life she took is now absent. Maybe the Giedi Prime's cruelty did have its effect on her; YN feels nothing but a sense of emptiness as she stands over the lifeless body.

''Do you have any more men to gift me to, Baron Vladimir? The night is still young.''

Her voice has changed. It holds a certain hiss now, a rasp that wasn't present before; it has matured and bloomed into half an octave deeper tone. It bites through the noise easily, cutting sharply.

The Baron laughs. His eyes gleam with amusement as he gestures towards the door. "Plenty more where that came from, my dear, but it's enough for today. Here,'' he throws something in her, a smirk ghosting on his lips. ''You've earned it.''

YN catches it and inspects the object in her hand. A small, golden broche catches the light, glinting in the dimly lit room. A head of the Bighorn ram stares back at her, the symbol of House Harkonnen. The taste of victory mingled with the metallic tang, leaving a bittersweet sensation in her mouth. Joy courses her veins—she isn't afraid. Finally, she is not afraid. Finally, she can look at her blood-stained hands without humiliation. Is it her fault she was born a better knife than a person?

Bighorn sheep are not a primary food source in most areas. However, when a lion does kill a sheep, they typically will continue to do so over and over again, until the herd is depleted.

tag list:

@oh-you-mean-me @juliskopf @moonsoulk @mamawiggers1980 @ashy-kit

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writeroutoftime · 2 months

Text

solemn vows

pairing: rhysand x reader

summary: joined by the inner circle, you and rhys get to have your mating ceremony, publicly declaring your love to your family

warnings/tags: none - just fluff!!

words: 1k

a/n: ahhh my first rhysand fic! look I love him and feyre together, but I also love him for myself too lol! of course I'm so excited to post this, but also very very nervous!! please be gentle lol, but I'd love to hear what you think! have a fabulous day!

as promised, tagging @captainsophiestark - enjoy!

(p.s. if anyone wants to request a story for rhys, cass, azriel, or lucien, please send it my way!)

oOoOo

The stars twinkled beautifully in the deep, dark night sky, shining down on you and your family like a blessing. Images of the night Rhysand took you to a nearby temple and had you sworn in as High Lady of the Night Court washed over you like a wave of comfort.

The ceremony had been a private affair. Vows shared only between you, Rhys, and the priestess who blessed the coronation. Vows that would soon be felt by the people of the night court, and across Prythian as a whole.

Your mating ceremony, however, was an intimate affair you and Rhys wanted to share with the Inner Circle - your chosen family. The people who stood by you time and time again, rooting for your happiness. Mor, Cassian, Azriel, and even Amren had thrown so much time and effort in helping you make the vision for your special day a reality.

And so, you now eagerly waited behind a pillar, clutching your bouquet of various, violet flowers. There was no doubt in your mind this was what you wanted, and when the orchestral music began, you took a deep breath and nodded to Cassian and Azriel.

Ever the gentle giants, the two had leapt at the opportunity to be a part of the event. You knew how much it had meant to them when you asked if they would walk down the aisle with you. So much so that it had caused tears from both males, though they would vehemently deny that fact if teased by anyone else.

With the two males flanked on either side, you walked down the aisle, your knees felt just a bit weaker than they had moments before when your eyes finally met Rhys' sparkling, violet ones. The waves of love and devotion sent down the bond almost knocked you off your feet. Similar messages were sent from your end, and the watery smile Rhys offered brought you such joy.

When you reached the end, you turned first to Cassian, then to Azriel, offering both males a kiss on the cheek and a nod of gratitude. As they made their way to sit with the rest of your family, you took your place next to Rhysand in front of the priestess here to bless the union.

She welcomed the small, but mighty crowd, and began to speak. "We are here tonight, blessed by the Mother and the Cauldron, to witness Rhys and y/n declare their mating bond for all in Prythian to see. It is not something done lightly, but rather a journey these two have agreed to partake in for the rest of eternity."

She then looked upon you and Rhys, offering a small smile, encouraging you to swear your own vows to each other.

"Rhysand," you began, already furiously blinking away the tears that clouded your eyes. "I have loved you from the moment I knew you. There is not a doubt in my mind that we are meant to be together. I am honored to stand beside you as your wife, your high lady, and your mate. I swear to you I will always protect our bond, protect you. That I will cherish each day together we are blessed with, and make sure you always know how much you are loved."

You sealed your vows by slipping the simple, but sturdy, silver ring onto Rhys' finger. Bringing your mate's hand to your mouth, you gently brushed your lips over the newly placed ring, delighting at the tug on your bond in response. So enraptured, in fact, you and Rhys were only half aware of the soft sobs that came from the crowd.

Rhys' violet eyes glistened with emotion as his large hands encapsulated yours in a firm grasp. "y/n, my high lady, my mate, my wife, with this hand, I will lift your sorrows." he began, eyes only for you, releasing his left hand to raise near his face. "Your cup will never empty, for I will be your wine, and I will light your way in darkness. With this ring, I ask you to be mine." he spoke, reaching out to grasp the matching ring and slip in onto your finger.

"If you both would now offer each other the wine from your chalice." the priestess said.

With almost practiced precision, you and Rhys reached out to each grab a chalice of wine. Linking arms with the other, you offered Rhys a smile before lifting your cup up to his lips as he did the same to you. As the chalices were placed back on the table, you felt a small drop fall down your face and shivered at the feather-light touch Rhys used to brush it away, only love and adoration in his eyes.

"Our High Lord and Lady have professed their vows to each other. May the Mother and Cauldron bless them for as long as they should live. May the rest of Prythian know the strength of their love as those here tonight have witnessed." the priestess declared, tying a black ribbon around yours and Rhys' hands, then offered the faintest smirk. "You may now kiss your bride."

The words were barely out of the priestess's mouth before Rhys leaned forward, cupping your cheek with his hands and pressing his lips against yours. You could feel the love pouring into your body, his lips soft, but sure. A kiss that reminded you of this beautiful, new start for you and your mate.

As the two of you pulled away, you both let out a slight gasp, looking down at your left hands. Swirls of Night Court ink adorned your left hands, a visual promise of the vows you had just declared.

"Hello, my darling wife." Rhys gazed down at you with a dazzling grin. "Let's see what fate has in store for us, shall we?

#rhysand x reader #rhys x reader #rhysand imagine #actoar x reader #actoar imagine #rita writes

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tlkfaerie · 9 months

Text

Impossible

Pairing: Sihtric x reader x Finan ✩࿐

⋆｡˚☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩ wc: 5.9k

note: I'm sensing a pattern arising where the reader is related to Uhtred in my writing pffft I just love it lol. this fic is a bit shameless of me tbh, consider Sihtric and Finan to be your mindless Kens in this.

summary: Sihtric and Finan do not take kindly to your attitude after they catch you with another warrior, leading to a night filled with confession and obsession. ✧˖°

MDNI! 18+ ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･TW!: mentions of potential assault, period-typical misogyny, mentions of blood, pining, F/M/M, oral (male receiving), p in v, slight domination etc

You had been resting all day, abandoning any duties that had been bestowed on you by Beocca or the others. Osferth had been with you for a while, but had run as soon as he saw some of your lady friends approaching, fearing that they would hassle him. Though he was sweet, he was incredibly oblivious, a trait that had gotten him into serious trouble - and by default, you too.

It was always you that seemed to be involved in some kind of dilemma, Uhtred's sister, clumsy and short-tempered. You always likened yourself more to Brida, wanting to follow in her wild, mildly assaulting ways with people. Ragnar cherished you, but always decided that Uhtred would be able to keep you safer, as he had a mixed band of trustworthy individuals.

You wandered in the nearby woods, collecting random flowers that interested you and occasionally stuffing them in-between the threading of your dress, which by now was soaked with a layer of mud from the terrain beneath your feet. Thyra had warned you not to arrive back too late. You knew that you shouldn't be too long, not on your own like this, but for now, everything in Uhtred's world seemed remarkably peaceful. For someone who liked to play with Alfred's commands, this was a miracle.

You revelled in your own company for a little longer, feeling your heart stop when your peace was finally disturbed by hooves. Before you turned around, you feared the worst, that it was some enemy of Uhtred's come to claim you and sell you for ransom. Fingertips going cold, you rested your thumb on the hiding place that you usually kept a small blade in, feeling its absence and cursing wildly.

Shit.

"And why do I find you out here all alone, lady?" you vaguely recognised the voice to be Gudrun, one of your brother's warriors and somewhat of a childhood acquaintance. You turned swiftly, to find the man looking down at you from his horse. He was handsome in his own right - but you had often seen him night after night sitting with a cup of ale, and whatever company he could find for the night. You did not blame him, finding yourself at the mercy of ale from time to time, but wondered why he squandered his talents on such wasteful hobbies so often.

"Please don't let me stop you on your journey Gudrun, I wouldn't want to slow you down," you began to dismiss him somewhat, feeling a fool for straying so far from the village with so little to protect you. You knew he was one of Uhtred's men, but the company of men was a tumultuous one.

"Not at all, Y/N. In fact, I can think of no better way for my journey to be disturbed," he smiled rather darkly, a tone of strange flirtation in his voice. You assumed he was harmless, relaxing a little as you accepted his compliment. You wanted Uhtred to come behind him at any moment to protect you, but he had his own children and wife to worry about now, so you were forced to remain.

"That's too kind, Gudrun, where are you headed?"

"To Lunden, just on some small duty. It's nothing serious. You should accompany me, lady."

You grimaced at that, knowing what had occurred at Lunden not too long ago. Gudrun seemed pleased at your discomfort. You felt bad for characterising him as a brute, wanting to remain pleasant to him, but you had observed how he was with his women before, often leaving them bruised and in need of comfort.

You politely refuse, wanting to be done with the situation, but then he dismounts from his horse, the poor thing jolting slightly. You watched the animal relax, returning your gaze to the much taller man who now hovered above you, blonde hair cascading in layered pieces around his face.

You stood your ground when he spoke. "Are you sure, pretty? I would not want to leave you out here alone, where any man could claim you for his own," he whispered, forehead practically touching yours as he took a few steps closer. You didn't like what he was saying, cheeks burning with his words, feeling your own brows furrowing. You were perfectly capable of defending yourself, or at least you thought you were.

Uhtred's best men and your closest friends, Sihtric and Finan, spent hours with you teaching you basic movements of defence, and when you were in the company of Brida and Ragnar, which wasn't often, you often challenged them to silly fights that you had occasionally won.

You didn't think before you shouted at him, "have the weight of your disgusting balls dragged your brain down with them? Or did you not hear what I said?"

You realised all too late that you had escalated the situation, watching the surprise on his face grow into anger, stalking backwards as you realised Gudrun's intentions may not have been as pure as you once thought. You didn't want to cause Uhtred any more unnecessary problems or create new tensions, but the way Gudrun was now staring at you reminded you that you were truly at his mercy.

"Those are such vulgar words for a lady like you, Y/N. I could have your tongue for that, but I can think of a better use for it first," he grinned, closing in on you. Your back quickly hit a tree, and you felt an immediate flush of nervousness. Nevertheless, it quickly subsided, and you allowed yourself a moment to breathe, readying your next words carefully.

"What would your mother think of the way you speak?" you were quick to spit in his face, acutely aware of the danger you were putting yourself in, but strangely loving it, "have the women around you not civilised you? Not taught you manners? Or were you raised by wretched wolves?"

Slipping away from under him and past the tree, you had expected to make somewhat of a swift escape, but Gudrun grabbed you before you could even think, his entire hand encircling your arm, squeezing until you felt yourself going cold, a tear making its way down your cheek.

"So stubborn for such a pestilent whore," he returned the favour, spitting onto your cheek as he bared his teeth at you, almost growling, "so stupid. I was taught how to treat a woman, and I will show you-"

Before he could continue, the scene was disturbed by more galloping, and the unsheathing of a sword. You recognised the voice that you heard next to be Finan's, and you resented it.

"Gudrun, what the hell do you think you're doing? Is this what you call being a warrior?" He shouted, immediately dismounting from his horse, sword in hand. He looked at you, eyes swimming in concern for you, which you returned with a scowl. You hated that he had come to your aid, and what was worse, you could see Sihtric coming towards the three of you as well.

Normally, you would be happy to see the two of them, but not on this occasion. The three of you had become incredibly close as things had settled down. Before, they had always seemed too busy, but over the year they had sought your company more and more. But their attention meant a watchful eye was always on you. As Uhtred built his family, you thought you had escaped your scoldings, but to no avail, the two of them always had something to say.

And now they were saving you. As they always seemed to do when you were in trouble. It infuriated you; feeling so inferior to the both of them, hating the way they coddled you as though you were some sort of child. You wanted them to see you as a woman. The whole situation made you act in a way you weren't entirely proud of.

"Finan just leave this, I can handle myself," you yelled, feeling shame run through you as Gudrun still gripped you tightly, not allowing you to go anywhere as you pulled and thrashed, practically kicking him. You wanted to literally sink into the ground when you felt Finan's eyes on you. He stood in all his seriousness, but knowing that he would win this altercation with Gudrun, there was also a hint of amusement.

"I'd listen to the lady, Finan, just leave me with her tits and I'll be finished."

Sihtric, who until now had been quiet, looked at you disapprovingly, which only spurred you on further. You loved him at the best of times, but the feeling of inferiority was eating you alive. You kicked and scratched, watching as Gudrun's sword went from pointing to Finan to pointing at you, its sharp end slightly piercing your arm.

"You bastard!" you practically screamed, but it fell on deaf ears. Sihtric, always careful, stepped slowly to your left, as Finan moved to your right, dominating Gudrun's line of sight.

"Go on, Gudrun, go to Lunden, spend all your money on women as you always do, forget this one," Sihtric taunted, rendering your own words invisible as you saw how Gudrun reacted. It seemed as though you had lost your voice. You huffed, wriggling further in his grip, which caused his sword to pierce you even more, drawing blood.

Finan tutted, looking over the both of you to Sihtric, as though they shared an invisible sort of signal that had you torn from Gudrun in seconds. Now you felt yourself in Sihtric's arms, binding you to him. Finan wasted no time, stabbing Gudrun's leg, leaving him there. He whispered something in Gudrun's ear, most likely a warning not to come back , which you thought was wise.

Just as quickly as he had finished with Gudrun, Finan stormed over to you and Sihtric. You hated to admit that Sihtric's grip was warm and welcome, and relief had you practically melting into him, but you knew what was to come.

"How I've missed your childish insolence," Finan remarked, smiling despite your very obvious scowl. Sihtric, however, was more serious, tending to your arm as blood seemed to pour from it endlessly. "You were naive to think you could take him, Y/N, you should not have further endangered yourself." He was quiet, raising a cloth to your wound, pursing his lips as the fabric quickly soaked into a dark mess.

"I had no choice, what would you have me do? Let him take me right then and there?" you knew you were digging yourself a deeper hole, ripping your arm from Sihtric's grasp, letting the cloth he had been holding fall to the floor.

"You know what Sihtric means. You shouldn't have to reason with him, I know, let's just be glad the prick is passed out." Finan kicked the unconscious body of Gudrun, which rocked, but did not muster. Finan looked at you, sensing frustration. He understood you, that you had been placed in an impossible situation, but they had truly only wanted to help you.

The three of you had briefly explained to Uhtred why he would be missing a man from now on, and with that you avoided Sihtric and Finan like the plague for over a week, much to their mutual dismay.

Both Sihtric and Finan sat on a table outside of the ale house, Osferth off somewhere training whilst Uhtred had gone to help Gisela with the children. Left to their own conversation, which was usually a blessing to the both of them, they began to talk about you.

You who hadn't been seen leaving your own home in days other than to bathe or eat. You who used to wander so recklessly, spending days in fields and forests with whoever you could get to join you.

They missed you pestering them with silly questions of battle and fighting, how you observed them with awe when they told stories of their lives before they had met you. Your innocent eyes no longer lit up in front of them, bringing them a pure sense of life after days of death and destruction.

"I must have left my mind on the battlefield," Finan muttered, Sihtric responding with a quiet grin as he sipped on ale. He knew what Finan was saying; the two of them had gained somewhat of an understanding over the past few days, realising that they both had feelings for you.

"Just what the world needs," Sihtric responded, looking at Finan, "two men in love with the same woman who speaks to neither of them." They both chuckled, refusing to let such a thing come between them.

"Something needs to be done, we can't just sit here like miserable bastards." Finan spoke, giving Sihtric a knowing glance. Sihtric scowled as he usually did, wanting to act entirely irrationally but holding himself back for the sake of everyone in the village.

As if their prayers had been answered, you came stumbling out of your home not even seconds later, in full view of the ale house and the two men you sought. Sihtric and Finan, you mentally scoffed.

Your frustration had been brewing for an entire week now. How embarrassed you had been at your outburst, and at your rejection of Finan's help and Sihtric's aid. You were equally as furious at the constant prominence of men in your life. They were everywhere all at once, consuming you, believing they could take whatever they wanted from you.

But what was even more sickly was that you missed your two friends dearly. Playing stupid games of stones with Finan who laughed at the most utterly unfunny things, and Sihtric, ever the affectionate friend, always one step ahead to ensure your safety. You felt like a fool for not realising that you liked them. You really liked them.

You set your sights on the hall and the ale house, where you knew they would surely be, stomping over as if it were your birthright. Once you saw the two of them sitting outside, you recognised their smiles. Wanting to make that short lived, you struck the back of their heads at the same time, plonking down onto the bench nearest to them.

"Y/N-" Sihtric began, but you held up a finger in his face, wagging it infuriatingly.

"No. You must listen to me. I am thankful for what you did to help me with Gudrun, and I'm sorry I haven't reacted as though I were. I was merely upset that a man felt he could do such a thing to me, and that I couldn't do anything about it without help," you didn't even manage a breath as you continued, "I just don't want to be seen as some kind of incompetent fool that needs to be saved. And what makes it worse is that I wanted to teach you both a lesson by being independent, you slugs!'

"Y/N, breathe." Finan chastised, causing your eyes to widen.

"Shut up and let me finish!" you stomped your foot, aggravated by his pretty smile and the way he seemed to unconsciously reach for the hem of your dress to play with. Sihtric also amused you for a second, his expression one of deadly seriousness as he listened to you intently.

"There's more I could say, but I just think I'd rather we go back to normal," you huffed, slightly annoyed at their downcast expressions, "and against all of my judgements about men, I've found myself pining pathetically for the both of you."

"Well, sorry for inconveniencing you so much, lady." Finan smiled, simply thankful that you were back on speaking terms with them. Your anger sat well within him though, and they didn't want to take advantage of the moment, not when your point was very much valid.

"We will teach you to be a great warrior, Y/N," Sihtric smirked rather proudly, punching your arm, to which you responded with a slap and a request for ale. Looking down at your hands, you briefly missed the longing look that the two men gave you.

Another week had passed, and the two men still hadn't confessed to you of their true affections, but the three of you understood that there had been some sort of shift in your relationship. Uhtred had been called to and from King Alfred's company once or twice, leaving you absent of your friends for a few days.

This didn't bother you at all, in fact, you were somewhat relieved from the break. Gisela kept you busy, with walking and games that Beocca had gifted her, you had even swum once or twice with her, entirely free and content. But when she took up her motherly duties, you were free to roam as you pleased, ignoring all civilisation as you wandered further and further from the village.

It was hours later that you returned, feeling anything but fresh, with some cuts and bruises from when you had decided to climb up a tree to take an hour's rest. Much to your dismay, you were not very good at climbing trees.

You hadn't even been entirely sure where your brother and the others had been sent to, as they were constantly marching north and south for some reason, but you had not expected to see them all gathered in the centre of the village walls when you returned from your own rough excursion.

Uhtred ran to you, picking you up in a forceful hug, laughing at your state. "I see you do not know how to stay out of trouble, Y/N. You limp like a fat man!" His shining eyes were somehow swimming with both excitement and exhaustion, and you returned his affections, realising he most likely needed them.

"I see things went your way this time, Uhtred." you let him hug you for just a little longer, sensing he must have faced great struggle to be so affectionate towards you. "How was everything?"

"Fine, sister, fine. I faced nothing quite as fearsome as you." Uhtred allowed his fondness for you to take over him for a moment, glad to be reminded of home and family. You rolled your eyes, patting his shoulder and letting him return to his children.

The air caught in your throat when you finally saw both Sihtric and Finan, talking casually with a few other warriors in the corner. They were dirty, even bloody, furs and capes draped over their enormous frames, sharp faces laughing as they were finally free from duties for a little while longer.

Finan spotted you first, a smile growing on his face as his arms opened warmly to greet you. He had removed the straps clinging to him, so that his sword fell to the floor. You walked slowly towards them, head tilted to the side when you welcomed Finan's embrace, not wanting to say too much as you felt his grip tighten.

You opened your scrunched eyes briefly to see Sihtric next to the two of you, placing a gloved hand on your head, patting it slightly. You blushed at the way he looked at you, realising you had been staring slightly too long, and that Finan had been hugging you for a while now, chin resting on your head.

Finan took you in, your once clean dress swimming in mud and loose leaves. Your braids unravelling slowly, a tad of mud on your face. You looked like you had gone on the journey with them. But, as he stared into your wide eyes, he thought that you had never looked more beautiful.

"I missed the two of you," you finally spoke, words hanging in the air. Sihtric looked down, grabbing your hand and holding tightly. Finan busied himself by fiddling with your braid.

"We missed you. I swear I saw Sihtric cryin' at one point, poor rat was devastated to leave our weakness." Though he spoke in an amusing manner, his eyebrows remained firm, and his smile did not last. The tension was ripe.

"Hey, Finan was the one telling all the men about you. Uhtred nearly had to send him away," the Dane responded, lightening the tone, but confusing you even more. They had been talking about you as their weakness, missing you, and now they couldn't stop touching you in some small form. Why didn't they just do something?

You knew they were polite men in their own regard, and that it would be up to you to initiate something. But what you didn't know, is that once you did, there would never be any going back. The two men wanted you so desperately; they had been discussing logistically how two men could share one woman forever, and had come to the conclusion that they simply just would. Now they were bursting at the seams waiting for you to say you wanted it too. They needed your confirmation.

"You should both come to my home," you said to them, shuffling your feet in the direction of your house. Gisela had taught you a little something about seduction whilst the men had been away, and you wanted to be the one in control of the situation. For now, at least. "For food, I mean. And drink."

"I never knew you could be such a kind hostess, Y/N." Finan said, pulling Sihtric towards him. You scoffed, squinting your eyes at him which caused him to stick out his tongue, a slight chuckle from Sihtric.

They had been to your house plenty of times, even staying over sometimes with Osferth or even Uhtred when they wanted peace and quiet. But this time, something in the pit of your stomach told you it was going to be different. You trotted quickly as they prowled behind you, already knowing the way themselves.

You felt their eyes burning holes into the back of your head as you stood at your door, the two me hovering over you, heads above you. You fumbled a little with the door, sighing in frustration.

"Take your time." mumbled Sihtric, surprising you slightly. Your face burnt like molten lava, and you refused to look at them. The two men gave each other a knowing look, a sense of unfinished business hovering in the air.

Sihtric's words affected you more than you had realised, his soft, deep voice reverberating in your head. You felt a hand on your shoulder, unaware as to which of the men it belonged to, and before you could control your reaction, a minuscule whimper came shooting out of your mouth.

Thankfully, you managed to regain consciousness for the moment and opened the door, ignoring any consequences of the sickly noise you had just let out. Little did you know, the noise had stirred Finan's cock, and Sihtric had had to take a deep breath to control himself, nostrils flaring.

You were teasing them, and you had no idea. Soon realising you had actually promised them food, you decided to make good on that, telling them to sit down, where some meats and a little fruit and bread were waiting. You took a moment to breathe, unable to focus on anything but their figures as they passed you and made a point of touching you as they did.

After some normal chatter, you realised that they weren't eating. At first you thought the food you had brought to them was sour, but upon further inspection of them, you began to fidget in your seat. They were practically ogling you, Finan's eyes carrying a sort of apologetic lust, whilst Sihtric gazed at you as though he was drunk.

A shiver ran down your spine, which caused you to fidget even more, hands picking at your dress. This movement did not go unnoticed by Sihtric, who took this as the perfect opportunity to initiate what you were all clearly thinking,

"You are cold, Y/N, you should come closer," his lips parted, and he truly felt in this moment that the Gods had gifted him with some kind of angel, as you stared open-eyed at him. He felt himself getting impatient, reaching out to you with an open palm when you stood hesitantly, like some sort of animal trapped between wolves.

Finan seemed to enjoy this, stretching back into the chair as you made your way to Sihtric, accepting his hand, not entirely sure on what to do next. After a moment of lingering, Finan answered your prayers with a simple "Sit, Y/N."

Sihtric groaned when you finally placed yourself in his lap, staring into his dual-toned eyes, unable to keep his intimidating gaze for longer than a second. Though you knew in reality he was a sweetheart, in this moment, he seemed dangerous.

Before you could lower your chin, Sihtric gripped it with his rough fingers, forcing you back up to face him, his other hand sliding down to your backside. He did nothing for a moment, each movement incredibly slow.

Other than the crackling fire in the corner of the seating area, all was silent. You realised your braids had unravelled entirely now, wild hair hanging loosely around your face. You hadn't realised how close Finan was until you saw him behind you, standing above you and Sihtric, a tight grip on your loose hair forcing your face even higher. The way he looked down at you, eyebrows furrowing and seemingly glazed with lust, you almost couldn't take it.

"She likes this," Finan muttered, Sihtric humming in agreement. You gasped when the iron grip tightened, forgetting that you were in the presence of two of the greatest warriors in the realm. It turned you on to no end.

Sihtric took advantage of your open mouth, sliding a finger inside, the others holding your chin still. You sucked on the digit rather insatiably, to your own embarrassment, unable to be satisfied until it was soaked and you yourself were drooling onto his trousers. But just as the moment was getting good, as they always did, they found a way to chastise you.

This had been a long, long time coming.

"You must never ignore us like that again, lady," Finan said, "I mean, could you not have just spoken to us? I imagine that would have been a whole lot easier."

The patronising tone had you feeling mildly embarrassed, but the sickly sort of degradation came with sweet caresses, so you managed to forget your pride for a moment.

Instead, despite the grip in your hair and the fingers in your mouth, you nodded, moaning profusely as your eyes rolled back when Sihtric forced another finger in.

"I'd ask for a verbal answer, angel, but I see that probably won't happen." he observed sarcastically, finally loosening his hold for just a moment, your head lolling to the side, wanting to be closer to the both of them. You were rather ashamed of the mess they had turned you into in a matter of minutes.

The feigned sympathy on Sihtric's face was infuriatingly attractive, so much so that you found it within yourself to quickly nip his fingers as he was removing them from your mouth, earning a genuine smile and a strike to the thigh, which was now exposed as your dress had bunched up.

"We own you now, Y/N," Sihtric finally spoke, voice barely above a whisper, "We both own you. You are our woman to love." That was all the confirmation you needed.

As quickly as you could possibly manage, you were kissing Sihtric, barely remembering to breather as you moved rhythmically on his lap, lips disconnecting and soon returning to a forceful kiss with Finan. You were beside yourself, wild like some kind of animal as you felt Sihtric on your neck and Finan on your lips.

It was all too much, and the feeling in your arms seemed to give way, not helping your case as you began to push the both of them.

"What do you need, love?" Sihtric asked, entirely ready to give you everything you needed. If only you could find the words. You didn't answer as Finan worked some sort of sorcery on your neck, sucking and biting just where you felt the most sensitive. "I should not have to ask again."

Sihtric's eye contact became so strong that you immediately cowered, any snide comments you had exiting your brain for the moment.

"Please, please just do something, take me," you panted, Finan's subtle laughter doing nothing to stop your whining. With that, you were transferred into Finan's arms as Sihtric rose, removing unnecessary leathers and protection, leaving himself only in his tunic. Meanwhile, Finan so gracefully laid you down on the bed of furs, your head leaning against the headboard.

"My lady," he half joked, quick to join Sihtric in the removal of his clothing. You followed their lead, untying the laces at the back of your dress with great effort before letting it slide off, kicking it to the ground.

"God," Finan stood staring at you, at your breasts, watching as your skin reacted harshly to the cold. You were drowning in the furs around you, your naked body like some sort of holy piece that priests would surely covet. Sihtric was by your side in seconds, bare chest colliding with your own skin, ecstasy rushing through you.

"we shall have to keep you like this forever, lady." Sihtric wasted no time in fulfilling your pleas, fingers inside of you before you could react, so filling and long, reaching every crevice inside of you. The welcome intrusion was heightened by Finan's body on your other side, playing with your clit, rubbing over and over until the stimulation became unbearable.

A void inside of you had been entirely filled, and your two friends were now wrapping you slowly around their fingers. A part of you wondered what Uhtred would think, whether he would welcome the strange union or dismiss it altogether, but there was no time for that, not when Sihtric was pumping into you, whilst Finan methodically worked his fingers, making you scream.

"Poor thing," Finan drawled out, watching your trembling frame as if it was pure entertainment. "Should we give you what you want? I think we should." Without consulting you, he simply looked at Sihtric, who seemed to have different ideas.

"I don't think she deserves it, I think that temper needs to be controlled a little more." You flinched as his fingers curled inside of you. Finan gave you an apologetic glance, and you couldn't believe he was listening to Sihtric in this moment . . .

"But!-"

"No," Sihtric mumbled, and Finan saved himself from your glare by hiding his face in the crook of your neck, his finger's methodical patterns becoming slower and slower, delaying your release. You were becoming numb at this point.

"Perhaps things could change if you told us who you belonged to?"

You grunted as you were kept on the edge, feeling constant resistance, and unable to admit your feelings. That was until Finan pinched your clit, and Sihtric slapped your inner thigh, rubbing the red skin as he worked himself in and out of you slowly.

"mmfph"

"Who?"

"Sihtric," you breathed, "And Finan."

"Good," Finan moved now, quickening his pace on the outside whilst Sihtric also followed through on his promise, "good girl".

That was all you needed, the praise making your chest blister and ache. It was intoxicating, being able to come entirely undone beneath the two men, feeling them observe you, kiss you, worship you.

"Our turn now."

One of them mumbled. You weren't entirely sure, blinded by your orgasm, feeling muscles in your thighs twitch as your back arched off of the bed. Before you could even come down, You were flipped onto your stomach. The action was nothing to the two men, so strong they could barely feel the effect they had on you. They made you feel weightless.

Finan couldn't help himself, gripping your ass so tightly you felt like it would bruise. The skin ached when he gave it a small pinch, enjoying your jolt into Sihtric as he kneeled close to your face, petting your hair as he often did, except never in this context.

A kiss to your forehead drew you back into consciousness for the moment, but it did nothing to distract you from Finan's actions behind, his cock now trailing up and down your sex, an agitated grunt coming from the Irishman.

"Good god," Finan muttered, no longer uttering some quip or joke, instead relishing in the feeling of the both of you two against one another. Your softness did something to him, tore deep inside of him; a man so consumed with life of battle did not deserve something so pure, he thought.

On the other hand, Sihtric felt like a God himself. His thumb returned to your mouth, feeding the oral fixation you didn't know you had. "Will you take the both os us?" He taunted you, asking you questions while he filled your mouth. The thought of them both intimidated you, and you shuddered when Finan aligned himself with your entrance, slowly pushing in before you could even think.

"Yes, yes, yes," you chanted like a mad woman, drool slipping past your lips in excess amounts, pleasing Sihtric, whose thumb was soon replaced with his thick cock. It slid straight to the back of your throat, slowly beginning to match the pace of Finan's thrusts.

Though Finan was attempting to be gentle, he did not recognise his own strength, apologising out of habit when you squealed. The sound was muffled by Sihtric's cock, his pelvis now hitting your nose. Both men shared a look above you, in silent agreement, realising this is exactly what they wanted in life. You.

In all of Winchester, nothing had more of a pull to them like you did. Not even Uhtred's command would keep them away from you now.

"Fuck," Finan practically spat, his hips quickening their pace, his long cock coming inside and outside of you, feeling the tightness grip harder and harder until he was nearly coming.

Sihtric equally had his way with you, hand in your hair simply moving you as he pleased, loving the way your tongue lolled out to welcome his cock.

"You are so beautiful, lady." Finan moaned, head facing the sky as if in prayer. It did not take much longer before he was coming undone within you, cursing as he realised he had selfishly come before both you and Sihtric.

Sihtric gave one final stroke before he too came straight down your throat, a choke coming from you as he waited before moving out of you. He decided that he wanted to take you next.

"Swallow."

His final command had you tightening around Finan, disturbing him from his moment of meditation with great force. Gritting his teeth, Finan barely managed to keep his composure as he finally slid from you, both men letting you slump underneath them.

Exhaustion hit you with a sharp thump, and your eyes began to close before you could say anything to the two men above you. Your eyes glazed over as Finan turned you onto your back to face them. They towered over you, Finan smiling, assuring you he was only trying to help when he let go of you for a moment, going to fetch a rag.

"When can we bind you to this bed? I want to keep you here forever."

#sihtric #sihtric x reader #finan #sihtric smut #the last kingdom #finan x reader #tlk finan #the last kingdom x reader #finan imagine #the last kingdom fluff #uhtred x reader #sihtric x reader x finan #finan smut #tlk #tlk fanfic #tlk fandom #sihtric kjartansson #finan the agile

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starrierknight · 5 months

Text

𝟎𝟐𝟐. 𝐥𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐞

“Each of us is born with a box of matches inside us, but we can't strike them all by ourselves.” ― Laura Esquivel, Like Water for Chocolate

KINKTOBER 23' | 𝟏𝐬𝐭 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓* | AO3

*this fic is in media res

wc— 6.3k

pairing— yandere!dom!gn!reader x defected!sub!getou

cws/tags— dead dove: do not eat, yandere/darling dynamic, erotomania, dubcon, mind break, restraints (ropes — shibari), death threats, bodily harm threats, gaslighting/manipulation, heavy sadism/masochism, knife play, manhandling, pain play (scratching + hair pulling), humiliation, dacryphilia + drool, spit as lube, handjob, edging, suguru fantasises about fucking you, frottage, cumming untouched, praise, pet names: “(my) darling” + “good boy”, dialogue-heavy

You stalked over to Suguru, taking the knife out of the back of your shoe, the embodiment of jealous fervour. Your fingers tightened around the knot of ropes at the centre of his shoulder blades, tugging him upright. He heaved and gasped, his face contorting in a mix of fear and confusion when he spotted the gleaming blade in your hand.

"What?! W-What are you doing?!" Panic laced his voice, evident in the wide-eyed terror that flickered across his expression.

Who would protect his loved ones? His body tensed, arms and legs twitching, desperate to escape the impending threat. What would happen to them if he couldn't endure whatever ordeal awaited him? Imminent danger materialised with the knife in your hand. Some type of torture? Did that mean you were going to kill him? The room closed in. He had people to save, damn it!

"Where the fuck is it, Suguru?"

“I don’t understand,” he muttered, shaking his head.

Your initial chuckle morphed into a peal of chilling laughter, your head swaying on your shoulders. Your lip trembled as you screeched, "Where the hell is it, my one and only?!"

Your chest heaved and your blood coursed hotly through your veins like lit gasoline, fueling your temper. The air, hot and suffocating, rushed in and out of your lungs, each exhale a smouldering release.

Where could it be? The words, the tattoo, the declaration? Was the man before you truly your one and only? Was he the illustrious figure you had adored from the shadows all these years? The questions echoed in the caverns of your mind, each reverberation stoking the flames of your incendiary anger.

Inhale. The air, thick and acrid, seared your throat as it surged through you. Your chest expanded with the intensity of a furnace.

No, there had to be a reasonable explanation. Suguru would never willingly choose this. He loved you; he had always loved you. Conviction burned in your thoughts, a desperate attempt to anchor yourself in the belief. The man bound before you was your cherished one. He had to be.

Exhale. A low growl escaped your lips, flames licking at the edges of your composure. Beads formed on your brow and palms, glistening like molten droplets.

It was probably that damned cult of his, wasn’t it? They were jealous, coveting him for themselves. They had stolen him from you, tearing him away from the love and devotion he owed you.

Yet, like fire, jealousy can both illuminate and destroy.

Your fingers trembled uncontrollably as they clutched the knife, the cold steel vibrating. The hilt felt slick in your grasp. The cool reality of the blade danced with the reflected light of the candles in the room, an undulating promise of searing pain.

Kneeling directly in front of Suguru, your armed hand reached around him, the knife a menacing punctuation madness. Your gaze bore into his eyes with a ferocious intensity, a frenzied stare.

His face contorted. Wide eyes were saucers of panic, pupils dilated to the brink as if attempting to swallow the horror of it all. Sweat adorned his furrowed forehead, shining like dew. His complexion drained of colour, leaving behind a pallor that starkly contrasted with the usual warmth of his skin. The lines of his face, once familiar and composed, now distorted into a twisted mask.

His mouth hung agape, a silent scream frozen on his lips. Tremors shook his body, his jaw clenched, muscles poised to flee—though you both knew he couldn’t. Every nerve was on edge, a single touch could shatter the fragile equilibrium that barely held him together.

As you held the knife, its cold blade a chilling presence, you gently dragged the back of it along his left forearm, tracing a path of distress up to his elbow. The metallic edge left a faint trail against his skin.

"I can't let anyone else have you, Suguru," you murmured.

It sent a chill down Suguru's spine, the sensation racing through his veins, setting his pulse ablaze. The soft touch, though hauntingly gentle, was enough to provoke his Adam’s apple to bob nervously. A cold sweat broke out down his back, beads of anxiety clinging to his skin, as your blade traced a perilous path, a few inches away from the delicate network of his veins.

"Don't..." he managed to whisper, his voice trembling, a plea that hung in the air like a fragile thread. Tears brimmed at the edges, and an involuntary stillness overcame his legs.

His mind raced, an anxious torrent of thoughts attempting to strategise, to find a way to escape the impending threat. The ropes, however, proved an insurmountable obstacle, binding him in cruel proximity.

“I love you.”

"Please..." he begged softly, his voice a desperate entreaty. His eyes remained fixed on the glinting blade.

The flat of the blade dragged along Suguru's bicep, a chilling sensation that sent shivers through his entire being. As you continued, the cool metal skimmed his collarbones, leaving a trail of cold dread in its wake.

"Ah, ah, hah..." he bit down on his lip at the acute discomfort of the blade.

Goosebumps erupted across his flesh. With each touch, his body reacted as if the very air around him had turned icy. His trembling and shivering became more pronounced under the merciless blade. Suguru's instincts begged him to scream, to resist, but his body, held captive by the ropes and paralysed by fear, fought against the primal urge. His eyes met yours with an expression of utter helplessness. He felt a desperate yearning for release, a desire to break free from the nightmarish reality that enveloped him.

"You're mine, okay? Maybe I'll make you match with me right... here," you murmured—a haunting promise.

The blade traced a perilous path, inching towards the area where his heart rested beneath his left pec. His heaving chest forced itself to still, a desperate attempt to avoid any accidental harm as the blade hovered over the epicentre of his being—his heart.

A helpless horror painted his features as he stared at your hand, left frozen in shock, a captive audience to the cruel drama. His body remained unnaturally still. He couldn't move. He couldn't say a word. He couldn't do a damn thing. Any motion, even the slightest twitch, threatened to turn this nightmarish ordeal into a self-inflicted tragedy.

"Or maybe..."

As you moved the blade with deliberate intent, dragging it inches from his skin and his pounding heart, Suguru's body betrayed him. The tip traced a sinister path along Suguru's abdomen, the cold steel scratching his skin but not breaking it. Shiny with sweat, his abdominal muscles twitched involuntarily in response to the metal.

A gasp of distress escaped his lips as the blade brushed against his skin, tickling every nerve ending and sending a sharp pang shooting up to his stomach. The heat emanating from the spot where the blade had touched created an acute awareness of the vulnerability of his soft, pale skin. A thin red line marked the path of the shallow scratch, not even enough to bleed. If he bled, would you be satisfied?

Down his hip bone you pressed the entirety of the flat, cold steel against the plushness of his thigh.

"Maybe here."

His body, already fraught with tension, tensed further at the sensation. The flat against his thigh felt like an icy brand. Suguru's hands shook uncontrollably, his entire being trembling in response to the cruel caress. Eyes, fearful and pleading, darted between your face and the blade. He waited for the anticipated moment of pain that never came.

"You... Please..." he whispered, on the precipice of breaking.

You, however, continued to stroke the inside of his thigh with the blade, a cruel tease. "It would look good carved right here.”

A sharp gasp escaped him as he felt the tingle of the blade running across the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. The sensation, a mix of fear and an unexpected wave of arousal, caught him off guard. He pressed his lips together, attempting to stifle any involuntary sounds that might betray the tumult within; but a soft moan escaped Suguru.

"Please…” he begged again, a fragile thread holding on to the remnants of composure, of pride.

You licked your lips, your gaze fixed on the spot where the blade of the knife pressed against his inner thigh, a visual of the precarious balance between torment and perverse desire.

"You want me to be yours... permanently, right? You want me to be your soulmate, your forever—right?" he began, his voice a delicate balance of persuasion and vulnerability. His mind raced with the urgency of finding a way out of this hell.

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eyes, his gaze anxious as it fixated on the weapon pressed against his thigh.

"What if you can have me in a—in a different way? What if we can have something no other sorcere—no other couple can have?" he whispered, the desperation palpable in his voice. The air seemed charged with the weight of his plea as he attempted to navigate a fragile path between surrender and a desperate attempt at negotiation.

"And that is?" you inquired, a sudden brightness in your eyes catching Suguru off guard. He gave you a wobbly smile, his heart racing in his chest.

"I'll let you have me. In every way possible.”

"Have you?" a shiver ran down his spine, his eyes on yours, searching for any sign of mercy or understanding. "I wanted to take my time with you, Suguru..." you sighed, your gaze dropping to the knife.

"Please... I-I want you to have me," Suguru said, an unsettling desire that clouded his thoughts. "Please."

His body, restrained by ropes and paralyzed by fear, yearned to move, to escape the impending danger, but it remained frozen in place. A darker desire rendered him powerless.

"Please! I'll be good for you. I'll be good for you, I swear..." Suguru's desperate entreaty hung in the air.

You hummed contemplatively, your gaze appraising Suguru as he desperately sought a way out of the impending torment. "How?"

A flicker of realisation brightened Suguru's eyes, a glimmer of hope amidst the encroaching darkness. "There's a way you can keep me without having to—that," he began, his voice shaking but now laced with a newfound confidence. "You can mark me as your own. You can mark me as yours and keep me by your side..." he whispered, his eyes locked onto yours, the intensity of his plea echoing in the room.

“How?”

He remained silent for a moment, pride warring with desperation. Suguru bit down on his lip, his mind a chaotic whirlwind of words he yearned to say but hesitated to voice. The weight of the unspoken hung in the air, an unrelenting pressure pushing him toward disclosure.

"Touch me.”

For a moment, Suguru was left breathless, his admission hanging in the air like a cloud of uncertainty. He had said anything to make you drop the knife, to replace the impending pain with a different kind of surrender.

"Isn't it too soon? You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for the moment to make you… I wanted it to be perfect.”

In response, Suguru laughed—a genuine sound that echoed in the room, a laughter he hadn't experienced in a long time. A laughter that betrayed the nervous undercurrent beneath the surface, a way to mask uncertainty. The thought of it being a nervous laughter didn't cross your mind, the genuine tone seemingly validating the moment.

That laughter quickly transformed into a smile, the genuine expression playing on his features. Your eyebrows raised inquisitively, observing the way he spoke convincingly about being ready for you.

"Not at all," he whispered, his voice carrying a confidence that contradicted the vulnerability in his eyes. A millionaire smile adorned his face, a façade—the world was, indeed, perfect in that moment.

The handle of the knife in your grip felt unyielding, your knuckles pale from the force with which you held it. Slowly, you leaned your face toward Suguru, your gaze fixated on his lips. A slight tremor ran through you.

Suguru's eyes widened as he observed your approach, the blade pressed against him momentarily slipping from his consciousness. You were so close now, the minimal space between you diminishing further. His eyes fluttered shut, lips parting as his breath caught in his throat.

"Kiss me," he whispered.

The kiss was hesitant and nervous on your end, the palpable tension between you vibrating with adrenaline and a barely suppressed need. As you went to pull away, Suguru deepened the kiss. A quiet moan escaped you into his mouth, and in that moment, the knife slipped from your grip, clattering with relief to the floor. Pleasure swept through him, and any fear he had of the blade was momentarily forgotten. Seizing the opportunity, he took advantage of your distraction, deepening the kiss again with an eager moan.

Your lips met his, tongues finding their place together as the two of you kissed with abandon. Pleasure surged through Suguru as your arms went around his neck, holding him close in a passionate embrace. You cradled his cheeks in your hands instead, even as he stayed tied up. You pushed your tongue greedily into his mouth, and one of your hands laced into his hair, tugging it by the roots gently.

When your tongue entered his mouth, his eyes rolled to the back of his head in pleasure. His body tensed and flexed against the ropes, instinctively rebelling to try and reach you. He moaned softly into your mouth, his hands shaking against the ropes that keep him restrained.

The kiss left both of you panting and trembling, desire and anticipation thick in the air. You broke the kiss, pressing your forehead against Suguru's, locking eyes with him. His gaze, hungry with longing, met yours.

"You..." you started, and Suguru swallowed thickly.

"You look so... Beautiful..." he murmured, his voice breathless and sincere, even if the sincerity was part of the act.

You chuckled airily. Open-mouthed kisses peppered his skin, and he responded with a breathy groan. Starting near his chin and making your way to the base where his ear met his neck, you bit down lightly, running your tongue over the sensitive skin. Suguru gasped, his head angled by the tug of his hair, your other hand gripping the ropes on his chest.

Straining against the ropes, his back arched like a taut bowstring, the bindings leaving indents that promised to bloom into bruises with the back-and-forth torment. With his hair pulled at a different angle, his gaze turned upward to meet yours, the height difference accentuated in this vulnerable state. Hungry eyes watched your every move, his mouth half-open, each inhale catching in his throat.

Your kisses and marks trailed along his neck, the tugs on his hair and the scratches of your nails against his scalp sending shivers down his spine. The hand on his chest ventured down his abdomen, tracing circles against one of his Adonis lines, a teasing touch that further heightened his arousal.

The familiar ache between his thighs pulsed with intensity, a relentless reminder of the desire that simmered. A yearning plea lingered in the air as he pressed himself closer to you, the heat of his breath mingling with the anticipation of your every exhale. He took a deep breath, his racing thoughts hidden behind closed eyes. A silent prayer echoed in the quiet recesses of his mind, a fervent hope that you would attend to the ever-hardening cock that strained to feel you.

Shivers ran through his body as your nails scratched against his skin, a hint of pain mingling with the pleasure to keep him hooked. The ropes dug deeper into his skin, leaving red, painful marks across his back, chest, and shoulder blades. He squirmed, his skin begging for more.

"Ah…!" Suguru let out a half-moan, half-gasp. "T-That... That feels good..."

"You're mine," you mumbled against Suguru's throat before lightly biting it.

A whimper escaped him, his body writhing against the bindings that held him captive. His arms were securely tied, leaving him unable to touch himself or you, but the sensation of your teeth against his skin, against his neck, was enough to elicit a response.

"Fuck... I'm yours..." Suguru mumbled, his eyes closed. There was no room for any other response; he was yours, willingly or not.

"You're safe with me," you reassured, kissing along his collarbones.

His eyes flickered open briefly, only to close again as he noticed the tight grip of your hand in his hair. The pain, a sharp contrast to the pleasure, mingled in a way that seemed to deepen his surrender. The hand massaging his thighs made him squirm, his back arching to intensify the sensation of the ropes against his skin.

"W-Woah, easy on the hair," he muttered out of breath, a plea laced with both discomfort and a desperate need for your touch.

You pulled back, narrowing your eyes and arching a brow. "What was that?"

Suguru whimpered softly, the fear rushing back as your fingers remained entwined in his hair, the tightness starting to border on pain. Swallowing thickly, his eyes opened slowly, his heart pounding with the resurgence of apprehension.

"N-Nothing... Nothing at all," he stammered, nervously avoiding your gaze. "I like it when you pull my hair... I like it really—really hard," he added.

A smirk played on your lips as you tugged his hair, bringing his face closer. "Good boy. I know you can take it, because you're strong, aren't you?" you cooed.

"Y-Yes... I'm strong..." Suguru whispered, gritting his teeth, attempting to hide the pain behind those words. He tried to muster a confident smile. Swallowing thickly, he nodded, lying. "I can take it," he whispered, his expression a mosaic of hurt, arousal, fear. "Yeah... I'm a good boy..." he continued, the words laced with a plea for reassurance. "I can take it... I-I can..."

You smiled approvingly and leaned in, kissing Suguru so softly that a moan escaped him, his eyes closing in bliss. The kisses were sweet and tender, carrying an addictive quality that seemed to erase the pain in his hair, replacing it with pure, unbridled pleasure.

In contrast to the softness of your kisses, your hand in his hair maintained its tight grip, a silent assertion of control. The other hand on his thigh sank its nails into the plush flesh, a sensation that brought a sharp intake of breath. The pain, though evident, seemed to intertwine seamlessly with the pleasure of your kisses. Suguru hesitated to voice any discomfort, reluctant to ask you to stop when the pleasure seemed to outweigh the pain.

Suguru was acutely aware of the pre-cum, a testament to the relentless ache that pulsed through his throbbing dick. The warm, wet stickiness coated him, and his fingers twitched to wrap around it just for some relief. His mind painted vivid fantasies where it wasn't his own skin but yours, where the pre-cum painted your skin with the rawness of his desire. The yearning for a deeper physicality clawed at him—your skin flushed against his.

A need that pulsed through him, a need that he found challenging to express: he needed you—needed you desperately, damn it.

A whimper escaped him as your touch lingered on his thigh, the pressure from your fingernails digging deeper. "Oh, God..." he whispered softly, his lips trembling slightly but still yearning for more of your touch.

You pulled back, allowing your hand to fall from Suguru's hair, and instead, you tucked some of his long, silky black strands behind his ears, your hand lingering around the rope on his shoulder. Both of you were breathing heavily, and as you sat back a little, you admired the sight before you.

"You're gorgeous like this, darling,” you remarked, your voice laced with a mix of satisfaction and admiration.

A shiver rolled down Suguru's spine when you pulled away, his eyes slowly opening. He stared back at you with admiration, his gaze flickering down to your hand around the rope as you tucked your hair behind his ears. His breathing stilled, chest slowly rising and falling as he absorbed the sight of you appreciating him. The moment, however, took a sharp turn when your hand pulled away, and his expression shifted from admiration to fear as you drew close to the rope.

"P-Please!"

"Please?" you teased, a smile playing on your lips. Your nails dug into his thigh again, and you pulled, leaving deep, raw scratches.

He yelped and whimpered at the sharp sting, his whole body shivering at the feeling of your fingernails digging into his thigh and pulling. He whined and squirmed in his constraints, the ropes biting into his wrists, torso, and legs. Despite the discomfort, he had no choice but to endure.

"Please, I'll do anything!" he begged, his eyes wide and breath catching in his throat.

You raised your eyebrows, a playful smile on your lips. "Oh, I'm sure you will. Because you love me, don't you?"

Your hand on his thigh gently stroked the fresh scratches, a soothing touch that blurred the lines between pain and pleasure. Suguru's breath hitched, and his mind, clouded by desire, struggled to discern whether he wanted to run away.

"Yeah..." he whispered, closing his eyes once more. "I do... I do."

A part of him still yearned to break free, but the fear and anxiety of losing your touch overrode that desire. It was less about escaping and more about staying by your side, ensnared.

You lifted your hand off his thigh, wetting your lips before spitting into your palm. The sudden shock of your spit-slicked hand wrapping around his needy dick made Suguru's body stiffen. Despite the initial shock, the sensation felt undeniably good, and the movement of your fingers made him squirm in both fear and pleasure. His eyes darted between your face and your hand, his breath catching in his throat. Each stroke and pull like a drug, addictive and consuming. Biting his lips furiously, Suguru's face flushed crimson. His face twitched with anxiety, yet his entire body trembled with pleasure.

As the pace of your hand quickened, he keened and whimpered, unable to articulate a coherent response. "Is that how you like it, darling?"

Suguru attempted to form words, but all that escaped were high-pitched whines. His teeth seemed practically glued together as another whimper slipped from his throat, his bound hands pulling on the ropes in a desperate attempt to get closer to you.

"Does that feel good? Yeah?" you teased, chuckling and watching his expressions in awe. “Aw, cute… I can feel it twitching.”

"It's so... M’so… Hah, fuck…"

His words failed him. He couldn't even form a sentence. The touch of your hand between his thigh was pure pleasure, and he was unable to keep himself composed. His hands were still pulling on the ropes against his arms, wanting more—so much more. His hips, driven by his muscles flexing and tensing in fervent and rhythmic thirst, pressed against you insistently. Suguru's breath, once controlled, now grew increasingly irregular, as he whined between gasps.

"Please... S-so good," he groaned in frustration. "Oh, please, fuck, I need to… Need to–"

“Yeah? What is it, darling?”

He nodded frantically, his ability to articulate lost in the whirlwind of moans and whines escaping his lips. The sensations between his thighs, guided expertly by your hand, were undeniably addictive. His hips rocked in response, a desperate rhythm that mirrored the instinctive urgency of his body, pushing into your touch with fervent desire.

As your lips met his, Suguru melted into the kiss, every nerve in his body ablaze by the sensation. The rhythmic movements of his hips intensified, a testament to the depth of his longing. Each kiss drew out desperate whimpers, his body writhing in pleasure. Yet, beneath the surface, a palpable tension hinted at the intense need he harboured.

He could envision it—the way he would fill every inch of you, the intoxicating stretch that would make your body slick with sweat. The sounds—the hitch in your breath, the loud moans escaping your lips as pleasure surged through both of you. Your legs would wrap around his waist, craving him closer, more deeply. He would moan, his cock twitching inside you, a testament to the exquisite torture of the denial. Yet even in fantasy, you would smile at him wickedly, using him all for yourself.

You felt the rhythm of his movements, the desperation evident in how roughly he fucked your hand, and you knew the depth of his arousal. Breaking the kiss, you murmured, "You close?" into his mouth.

A wave of pleasure swept through Suguru's body as your whispered words hung in the air. His attempts to speak were stifled by the overwhelming sensations, reduced to a series of groans and gasps. His eyes remained tightly shut, lips trembling, and his chest heaved with each shallow breath.

His hips, driven by instinctive urgency, pushed into the air, need pulsing through him. His cock stood flushed, dripping, and achingly hard, the anticipation etched into every twitch.

Your actions, guided by a blend of desire and control, only deepened his yearning. The precum drooled from his slit, messy and exactly how you liked it. Your saliva-slicked hand teased and pumped him, each movement accompanied by an embarrassingly loud wet sound that resonated with his whimpers.

Just before he could cum, you withdrew your hand, and his body quivered in response, slipping through his fingers like grains of sand. The abrupt absence of your touch left him gasping for breath, words caught in the throes of long-gone ecstasy. His eyes fluttered open as you pulled away, panic contorting his face.

"No, no, please…! Please don't..." he whispered, his plea hanging in the air as he longed for the return of the sensation that had brought him so close to release.

As you pressed your lips against his, a surge of warmth radiated through the touch, your fingers coiled around the taut rope of his shoulder, the lit fuses of lust. The conflict made him beautiful—a part of him, a mere whisper amid the cacophony, yearned to resist, to reclaim control. Yet, that struggle was seared away by the overwhelming touch, by the overwhelming you, making resistance a distant and feeble notion. The texture of the rough fibres kept him tethered to the intensity of the kiss, a dance of lips and tongues that became him.

Your teeth sank into his bottom lip; his response was visceral—a loud, involuntary moan—the sound of surrender. His lower lip quivered beneath the sharp pressure, a tangible sign of the white-hot desire surging through his veins. His surrender, the white flag, was taken into your heated hands and scorched to black, to lust. With closed eyes, his world narrowed to the victor, to you.

Breaking the kiss, a glistening strand of saliva lingered, connecting your parted mouths. With a mischievous smile, your hand rose, and your thumb found its place in his parted lips. The wet heat enveloped your digit, his tongue swirling sensuously around it. His eyes, heavy-lidded with arousal, met yours. A groan hung in the air, caught in the rawness of his throat as he eagerly sucked on your offered digit, his tongue curling around it.

"I wanna… Mmmf…! I wanna..." His voice, laced with restrained desire, faltered as he bit down on your thumb, the words teetering on the edge of a plea. "More, more..."

You leaned in, your face tantalisingly close to his, a playful smile dancing on your lips. "More, huh?"

Withdrawing your thumb from his heated mouth, you directed your attention lower, teasingly inching it between his legs once again. The soft pad of your thumb, a gentle torment, caressed the sensitive contours of his length, drawing circles on the leaking head, smearing pre from the slit along the prominent vein of his shaft. He let out a strangled moan, his hips involuntarily frotting into your hand as he gasped for air, unable to respond beyond the primal sounds escaping him. His body shook and his hips bucked desperately.

The hand wrapped around the ropes tugged him nearer, and you rested your forehead against his, the candlelight flickering in the inky black depths of his eyes like a torch in the night.

"You're beautiful," you whispered, “You’re mine.”

Blushing under the weight of your words, his eyes widened. Your breath, a sweet and intoxicating scent, mingled with his. He shuddered, a soft whimper escaping him. Desperate to contain the rising chorus of pleasure, he bit down on his lower lip, the delicate dance of pleasure and restraint evident in the way his hips instinctively rocked. His body trembled under the tender torment of your touch.

"Please," he begged, soft and needy.

"Tell me that I'm the only one for you, the only one to make you feel this way," you murmured, a sly smile playing on your lips.

His brow furrowed with the exertion of pleasure. Your words, a catalyst of praise and affection, wielded a power that rendered resistance incapable. His attempt to deny, to resist your influence, was a futile battle:

"You're... You're the only one," he whispered, surrendering to the truth.

His eyes fluttered shut, teeth gritted, and his hips moved with an urgency that betrayed the depth of his craving. Each thrust forward sought the contact that momentarily eluded him, and a plaintive whine escaped when your touch lingered just out of reach.

“Tell me you want me."

"I... Oh, God, I want you. I want you so much right now. Need you so fucking badly right now."

His admission trembled through the charged air, a declaration of desire that hung heavy between you. His body quivered, and he clamped down on his lips, a valiant effort to withhold further vulnerability. Yet, the pull of your tease and touch unfurled the neediest corners of his soul, a rekindled lust that had nearly withered in the grip of isolation.

"Please…! Please touch me... Please, please touch me again..."

Your question hung in the air, a subtle challenge:

"You feel this?"

The room echoed with a ravenous moan as your hand reached down, cupping Suguru's balls. If the intensity wasn't overwhelming enough, you chose that precise moment to massage his ballsack between your fingers—swollen and heavy with cum, aching to be released. The sudden, deliberate contact jolted him into a realm of heightened sensations, his eyes snapping open to reveal the surrender etched across his face under the spell of your grip.

No words found refuge on his tongue, eclipsed by a primal symphony of moans and the hungry, needy whispers that escaped his parted lips in response to your touch.

"Please..." A quiet whimper, a plea, an admission of craving.

"This is mine now, alright?" you declared, asserting yourself with a subtle squeeze.

Wide-eyed, breath caught in his throat, he found himself ensnared in a web of possession. Your grip, both firm and tight, elicited a soft whimper, his hips instinctively pushing into the touch, yearning for more. The declaration wrapped around him,the reply spilt from him, a desperate cascade of surrender and longing—a willing captive to the depths of your lust:

"Y-Yeah... Y-Yours, fuck…! Oh, God, yours. Your touch is mine, yours... Just yours... Only yours, I want you, need you..."

Your words, a melodic coo, dripped with a seductive assurance. "So obedient, you're learning.”

As your touch found a firm rhythm, a seismic shift surged through him. His body, a canvas for the symphony of pleasure, responded with unrestrained fervour. Fingers curled tightly around the ropes, a desperate attempt to anchor himself amidst the rising tide of need. A guttural moan escaped him, his tongue lolling out involuntarily as breath hitched in his throat.

Rocking forward, every movement strained against the constricting bonds, ropes carving into his skin, a painful reminder of desire, control, captivity. Pleasure, a white-hot current, coiled in the pit of his stomach, setting his nerves ablaze with an intensity that bordered on exquisite agony. But your words, a cascade of praise and affection, were the one craving of his you satiated. He needed you now. He needed you.

You.

A cry, raw and hoarse, reverberated through the room. Tears, involuntary witnesses to the overwhelming ecstasy, streamed from his eyes. His legs tensed, a quiver coursing through them, and his whimpers escalated into squeals. But as you withdrew your touch, a pang of longing seized him, a hurt he hadn't anticipated. Fervent pleas spilt from him, his body squirming in your grip.

"Please…! Oh, fuck… No, no, please…! Please touch me again..." His words, infused with desperation, hung in the air, a plea for the return of the exquisite torment you provided.

"You wanna feel more? Do it yourself," you drawled, a burst of mocking laughter accompanying your words.

Suguru's sob, a raw expression of frustration, mirrored the internal turmoil. Tears blurred his vision, but the silhouette of your smug grin etched itself in his mind. A blend of desire and frustration mingled in his plea, "Please-please-please-please... Please touch me..." The imploring gaze sought your hands for solace.

"Please, darling. For me,” you taunted.

Eyes pleaded, and his body trembled once more as he reluctantly began to move, the tight grip of the ropes emphasising the solitary nature of the act. Sweet, pearlescent tears gathered on his lashes, welling up in those gorgeous eyes, and rolled down his flushed cheeks. They shimmered, streaking his face, as baby hairs stuck to his sweaty forehead. Brows knitted together, frustration etched across his features—what a sight he was for you.

Each thrust into the air was met with a loud whine, but despite the physical effort, it could never replicate you. You were incomparable. Another cascade of tears leaked from his eyes, tracing damp trails down his cheeks. A hot ache coursed through him—that familiar aching bliss.

"It doesn't, ah, feel like you... Like you..." The room hung heavy with the echoes of Suguru's whines.

"Oh, my darling. C'mon, keep going. You're so close now, aren't you?"

His eyes opened, a flush of embarrassment painting his face as he met your gaze. Head shaking in protest, he struggled with the solitary act, his voice trembling, and breaths shallow. The effort, while valiant, felt insufficient, a stark reminder of the absence of your touch.

"I'm... I'm fucking trying…!" he whispered. More whimpers escaped him, the absence of your touch haunting the moment of indulgence.

A groan emerged, lips parting in surrender to pleasure. Your encouragement became his guiding force, pushing him closer. Moans echoed, his eyes rolled back, and his back arched in response to the steady grip of the ropes on his shoulders. Pleasure consumed him, his body wracked with its intoxicating embrace, yet the struggle to contain the sounds persisted.

You seized his jaw, holding his mouth open, a witness to his contorted face—shame, pleasure, fear—those uninvited guests. His body writhed, torn between the desire to escape the situation and the undeniable arousal that tethered him to your command. Feeble protests echoed in the room, his resolve crumbling beneath the weight of your influence..

As his hips accelerated in their erratic movement, a violent shudder seized his entire body. Streams of thanks spilt from his bitten lips, a testament to the overwhelming release that surged through him. Suguru's orgasm, a crescendo of heat and pleasure, shook him violently, the length of his cock now coated in warm, sticky evidence of his climax, thrusting into the air with feverish need.

"There you go, my darling. Good boy, you've done so well," you said affectionately, creating a momentary reprieve, a gentle acknowledgement of his surrender.

The room held the lingering echoes of Suguru's release, his body still trembling as he kneeled there, caught in the aftermath of the fireworks that had set every nerve ablaze. A pyre to pleasure, his chest heaving with each laboured breath—a testament to intensity.

Blissful heat.

As his eyes stayed closed, fingers wrapping around the ropes that bound him, he grappled with the profound impact of the experience. A spectrum of feelings—humiliation, frustration, repulsion—warred within him. Yet, an undeniable satisfaction lingered, a product of the attention you had lavished upon him.

“How many people will do anything for the one they love?”

The weariness clung to Suguru's teary eyes as he fought against the heaviness, attempting to blink away the exhaustion. The world blurred with each slow blink, his eyelids closing reluctantly, weighed down by the fatigue that permeated his entire being. Your hands released the ropes, the final tethers of his consciousness, and he teetered.

"Honestly, Suguru, you’re lucky to have me," you chirped.

The metallic scrape of the knife being lifted off the floor, a sound that would have sparked alertness in any other circumstance, barely registered in his fading awareness.

"If it were anyone else, I wouldn’t have been so lenient."

Eyelashes, once vibrant, seemed burdened by the weight of exhaustion. Each blink, a futile attempt to stave off sleep, betrayed the struggle.

"Then again, you’re my one and only, and I’ll do anything for you, ‘cause I love you. Anything."

Lines deepened on his forehead as the battle against fatigue intensified. Finally, his eyes fluttered open, meeting your smiling face.

"Even when you don't know what's best for yourself. Don't scream, okay?" you murmured gently.

He felt the cold press of the knife.

a/n: well. there we are, then. lol. this was a really fun thing to write icl... i should do more yandere stuff in the future :3

this work belongs to STARRIERKNIGHT . please refrain from plagiarising any of my works and do not repost/translate/modify/copy onto any platforms.

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