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ladsonlads · 4 months ago

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Impartial Hearts | Sylus - Part Two

Pairing -> Boss Sylus x Non MC Reader

Parts -> Part One | Part Two

Synopsis -> You’ve been working as Onychinus’s accountant for two years, and you’ve been carrying two heavy secrets for a third of it. You were in love with your boss, and your mother was dying.

A/N -> I'm sorry it took so long. I have been obsessing over trying to make part two perfect but I don't think I can. It's time I share my baby with you, and I really hope you enjoy it.

Tags -> Angst, fluff :)

Trigger Warnings -> Character death, heavily mentions grief. Some parts are suggestive but there is no smut.

Word Count -> 18.8K (it got kinda crazy)

Late October

It was cold, dark and gloomy; the weather a perfect pathetic fallacy to the narrative of your life. The freshly disturbed patch of grass failed to convey the significance of who laid underneath it. It was vexing, how the world continued to spin on it’s axis despite the fact that it stopped spinning for you.

It hurt to think about the events that led to your undoing. The weeks prior to the moment your mother drew her last breath. You were a cracked vase filled with wilting flowers and overflowing regret. Every breath you took consumed more energy than you could spare and yet the world just. Kept. Spinning.

“I brought you flowers. Yellow tulips, by the way.” The words felt like lead on your tongue. It was one thing to accept your mother was never coming back, it was another to try to act normal about it. “I know you never cared for them, but I didn’t think leaving a pack of cigarettes on your grave was very tasteful.” You bitterly smiled to yourself at the memories of your mom sneaking a cigarette in the backyard when she thought you were asleep. It was a nasty habit you did everything to rid her of. A fruitless attempt to protect her from the inevitable.

“I’m sorry I haven’t figured out your epitaph yet. It’s just so hard to condense your entire life into a few words. Plus, they charge by the letter, so I’m trying to be really selective.” It felt weird, speaking into empty space, but you read online that it helped with grief, so you tried anyway.

That was how you approached most things nowadays. Eating, drinking, sleeping, they all seemed meaningless. But, you knew you couldn’t survive on just antagonism and mourning, so you did it anyway.

“Zayne called again. I know you told me not to hate him and that it wasn’t his fault, but I can’t bring myself to agree.”

The moment Zayne told you that the heart that could save your mother’s life was going to someone else replayed in your mind like a scratched vinyl stuck on an aggravating note.

“I got so frustrated by his constant calls that I threw my phone into the ocean.” You let out a sad laugh. “Guess that’s the last time I bring anything with me when I’m walking along the coast.”

You paused for a moment, feeling stupid. But you had so much to say to her, it all just began spilling out.

“I know you don’t want to hear this, but I might lose the house. I burned through all my paid leave, and the idea of going back to work for Sylus makes me want to put my head through a wood-chipper. I know I have to, but how can I focus on work when I have nothing left to work for?” You tasted the tears before you felt them, the saltiness reminded you of your weekends at the beach with your mom. You did everything to get out of joining her, you hated the beach, but it was her favourite place to be and in a desperate attempt to cling on to whatever was left of her, you forced it to be yours too.

“I’m sorry I never got you that house you dreamed of, or the dog. I’m sure there are lots of dogs in heaven, and at least the dogs there have been screened. With my luck any dog I would’ve gotten you would’ve been evil.” You teetered around the grievance you truly wanted to apologise for.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t spend much time with you before you passed away. I was so sure you would get the transplant. I tried so hard to save for it. I should’ve been with you. If I knew—” The sobs raked through you with a force that knocked the air out of your lungs. You sat down next to her tombstone, leaning your head against the chiseled rock.

There were moments when you’d wake up, and in the haze of your muddled mind you’d forget she was dead. But then the ache in your body is deciphered by your mind, and you’re reminded of just how much you’ve lost. Maybe that’s why they called it mourning. Grief dawned on you like the rising sun.

Life had a way of being entirely unfair, and there was nowhere to hide from fate’s piercing claws. And as if to ensure you hadn’t forgotten just how cruel life could be, your head whipped around at the sound of footsteps behind you to find the last person you wanted to see.

Sylus was dressed in a long black coat hanging effortlessly off of his broad shoulders, a black dress shirt that really should’ve been buttoned up to the top, and a pair of black slacks that made his long legs look impossibly longer. He looked every bit the cunning grim reaper, and it wasn’t just because he was surrounded by graves.

“I didn’t know you were back in the N109 Zone.” The words came out harsher than you intended as your head returned to it’s position against the rock.

Sylus stopped in front of you, lowering himself to his haunches so that you would be face-to-face. It stung to look at him, so you focused on picking at the grass instead.

“I only got back a few hours ago. I heard about your mother. I’m sorry.” Having been deprived of his voice for over a month, you cursed the butterflies that coursed through you like muscle memory. Part of you wished he’d returned disfigured, but you knew it wouldn’t have made much of a difference. Ugly or devastatingly beautiful, the storm that was Sylus could not be stopped, only weathered.

“Sorry that she died or sorry that you weren’t there?” The bitterness in your tone was unfamiliar to you. Even though you knew it was unfair of you to expect him to have stayed, he left immediately after he dropped you off at the hospital and you hoped he’d have been there just a little longer. It didn’t help that you didn’t hear from him until two weeks later, and by then you were too engrossed in your battle against Akso hospital’s medical board to respond.

“You haven’t been answering my calls; they’re not even going through anymore. You haven’t blocked me, have you?” Sylus countered your question with one of his own. If you cared enough, you might’ve called him out on his diversion.

“No, my phone broke.” That was an understatement if there ever was one.

“How long ago?”

“A week.” That much was true and since you couldn’t afford a smart phone, a shitty $30 flip phone weighed down your pocket.

“And all the times I called before then?” Sylus’s eyes perused you with intensity, and you suddenly felt self-conscious. You weren’t dressed well, in a pair of black sweatpants that were too big on you and a matching hoodie. Grieving people were allowed to dress terribly without judgement, Y/N. It’s okay.

“I didn’t feel like picking up.” The grass continued to bare the brunt of your nerves as you answered. The you that wasn’t effectively an orphan would’ve made up some excuse to protect his feelings, but you were resolved to change that. Your mother was strong, independent, and she never backed down from a fight. Not against men like Sylus, and not against her illness. If you wanted to honour her memory then you had to live your life the way she’d want you to.

“Do you have a phone now?”

You reached into the pocket of your sweatpants to take out the grey flip phone. You watched as Sylus bit back a laugh.

“I’ll get you a new one.”

“I don’t need you to get me anything.” You quickly retorted.

“You’re going to need a phone from this century if you’re working for me, Y/N.” He said it so casually, as if you were put on this earth solely to serve him as his accountant.

“Right, about that…” Your determination to be confident and unapologetic began to dwindle as you wondered how to tell Sylus you needed more time.

“No. Resigning is not an option.” Twelve minutes. It took Sylus twelve minutes to return to his usual controlling self. You were impressed, truly, it was a new record after all.

“We don’t have a blood pact, Sylus. I can resign if I want to. Besides, that’s not what I was going to say. I need more time off.” You didn’t sound very convincing, but it wasn’t like you could change who you were overnight. It would take a lifetime to unlearn your bad habits.

Sylus looked conflicted, as if he didn’t know what to say. When he chose to finally open his mouth, you wished he hadn’t.

“I’ve given you a month, Y/N. That’s enough.” His statement came out so matter-of-factly, you wondered if you had imagined it. A month was not nearly enough to recover from losing your mom, but you figured a man who killed people for a living wouldn’t understand.

“It’s only been two weeks since she died. And I’m sure the temp you’ve got is perfectly competent.”

“The temp doesn’t know the company like you do and I haven’t bothered teaching him on the premise that you were returning. If you’re not back soon I can’t promise you’ll have a job to come back to.”

The tension in the air dissipated as you began to laugh. Loudly. Obnoxiously. Hysterically.

“You— You seriously think I care whether or not I have a job? I can barely will myself to eat right now—employment is not my priority.” You wiped back the tears that began to spill out. Their origin unknown, between your hysteria and sorrow, your eyes were constantly puffy.

“People die all the time, sweetheart. It’s no reason to throw your future away.” Sylus stood up straight at the end of his statement, holding his hand out to you.

The angel on your shoulder whispered that in his own peculiar way, this was his attempt at comforting you. But you stopped listening to that angel when they buried your mom under six-feet of dirt, and you couldn’t help the word vomit that escaped you like water barrelling out of a splintered dam.

You pushed away his hand, and stood up to look at him with a ferocity you didn’t know you possessed.

“I get that something really dark and twisted must have happened in your youth to make you so heartless, but most people have shitty childhoods, sweetheart. We choose not to be terrible, insufferable people because of it.” The unbridled rage you’d spend so long trying to suppress seeped out of you uncontrollably as you screamed at Sylus. You walked toward him, your anger taking hold of you as you began to push him away. A few months ago you would’ve given anything to touch him, now all you cared about was making him feel a semblance of the pain he instilled in you.

“Some of us choose to feel our emotions in their entirety, regardless of how much it hurts, because we’re not scared to love and lose. You’re a coward, Sylus and you may think that my mother dying is just an inevitable consequence of life, but my world will never be the same.” In an attempt to calm down, you took a deep breath.

“You can judge me all you want, but it won’t change the fact that when you die, no one will mourn you.” The word vomit continued, and when you saw the hurt flash briefly within his eyes, you felt the arms of regret begin to sink their claws into you.

You shouldn’t have said that. It wasn’t you.

But before you could take it all back, Sylus’s phone began ringing and you figured from the urgency in which he answered it must’ve been her.

“I lost track of time, I’ll be right there.” He spoke in a low voice in what you could only assume was an attempt to mask the fact that he was leaving you for something more important, again.

He opened his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it.

“Just go.” You waved him off and turned back around to face your mother’s grave, though now the tears welling up in your eyes couldn’t be entirely attributed to the grief.

Early November

You weren’t sure time could heal the gaping wound your mother’s passing left behind, but grief had settled into your life like an imposing aunt. It was in your home, touching your things, ruining your food, and never once leaving you alone. It didn’t feel so all-consuming anymore, but it clung onto you constantly like a shadow.

You were watching the third Harry Potter movie at 8am when you received the eviction notice via Email. You’d been expecting it, ultimately you were behind on rent, but the reason plastered on the paper was exponentially worse than your own incompetence.

…Selling to developers…suburban expansion project…

As if losing your childhood home wasn’t bad enough, they were planning on destroying it. Memories were bound to decay with time, that was an inevitable consequence of being human. Sooner or later you’d forget the way your mom dressed, or the smell of her perfume. Tangible things like photographs, places, they kept those memories anchored. You couldn’t lose the house, it wasn’t an option.

You spent the next hour trying to reason with your landlord over the phone, but he was committed to selling. He rejected every single one of your proposals, though even you knew they were weak at best. The developers were offering significantly more than market value, there was no way you could beat that. Stupid gentrification. But, your landlord told you he was sympathetic, and the deal hadn’t been finalised just yet. If you could match the developer’s offer by the end of the month, he’d gladly sell it to you instead.

Of course the developer’s offer was $800,000, and by the looks of your financials, you were about $796,312 short.

Desperate for a catharsis for your unending frustration, you screamed into the throw pillow on your couch until your throat felt raw. Then, you opened up your laptop to figure out a plan.

30 minutes later you had:

Sell your kidney to an organ broker and use the money to get a loan from any dodgy bank that would accept your mediocre credit score.

Dabble briefly in prostitution and use the money to get a loan from any dodgy bank that would accept your mediocre credit score.

Become a squatter and protest the demolition of your home environmental-activist style.

“Wow, Y/N. Graduated top of your class and this was all you could come up with, huh?” You muttered to yourself as you stared at the list of terrible ideas. Your mind hadn’t come up with something so horrific since the bed-in-breakfast Mother’s Day fiasco when you were 11.

The only option that didn’t end in bodily harm or a prison sentence was to work as many jobs as humanly possible for the next few weeks in hopes you could somehow manage to accumulate the deposit for a loan. You could probably sell some appliances too, and maybe revisit the kidney idea if it came to it.

Despite it being a long-shot, you had to try. You changed into a pair of flared leggings and a sweater. It was basic and borderline mismatched but traversing your explosive closet was a large undertaking you tended to avoid. You dug a copy of your old resume out from your file drawer, after all, it wasn’t like your experience as Onychinus’s accountant was going to do you any good. Further, listing Sylus as a reference would ensure you never got a job again.

You figured the easiest place to start was the central district of the N109 zone, bars and restaurants there were constantly hiring and from what you’d heard their only requirement was that you had two functioning legs and arms. But when you tried to leave through the door to begin the job search you collided with a formidable wall.

Since when was there a—

“Where you headed to, Y/N?” The familiar voice was so surprising it made you jump, the action accompanied by a shrill scream.

“What the fuck? Why are you just standing outside my door?” You rarely ever swore and you were sure that if your mother was still alive she’d throw her shoe at you for using the devil’s language. But of all the things you expected to see that morning, Sylus outside your door was not one of them.

“Is that any way to welcome your old employer?” Sylus stepped into your home without an invitation. Conclusive proof against your theory that he was secretly a vampire.

“What are you doing here?” You asked again, still staring at Sylus like he sprouted a second head. You couldn’t think of a single reason why he’d show up at your place of residence, he never did while you were still his employee.

“I need you to come back.” You choked back a laugh at his ridiculous request. Was he insane?

“Go to hell.” Your vicious response didn’t sway Sylus.

“I’ve fired an accountant every week since you left. The accounts are in complete disarray, half my businesses are behind on their bills, the other half have been paying the wrong amounts to the wrong companies. My investors are unhappy, my debtors are one week away from assuming I’ve gone bankrupt and I haven’t slept in weeks. Come. Back.” While it stroked your ego to hear that the organisation was suffering in your absence, you couldn’t just forget the terrible way he’d treated you in and out of the workplace.

“You insisted I was especially replaceable and now you’re saying you can’t replace me?” You chose to remind him of just how horrid of an employer he was, an action he didn’t appreciate.

“If you’re going to dwell on the semantics I’d rather just cut to the chase. What’s it going to take to get you back?” Sylus’s tone suggested he was truly trying to negotiate with you. Of course a man like him didn’t know how to take no for an answer.

“Pigs to fly.” You quipped, opening your door in hopes he’d get the hint and leave.

“Y/N, I’m serious. We can’t survive without you.” His desperation went straight to your head, but you stood your ground.

“Then die.” You tried to shove him out of your doorway, but he was about as easy to move as a truck.

“Everyone has something they desire, sweetheart. Name your price.” While you were ready to fire up a quick retort, his suggestion reminded you of the very reason you were about to leave the house.

Perhaps this was a sign; you could swallow your pride if it meant you got to keep your home.

You pretended to give it thought, sighing loudly in contemplation. “Fine. I want a sign-on bonus. Or in this case, a re-sign-on bonus, I guess…” You trailed off, unsure if he would agree.

“Alright, how much?” He was quick to accept your terms, and you decided to test the waters of just how desperate he was for your return.

“A million dollars.”

“Done.”

Dammit, you should’ve asked for more.

“I want a personal driver too, I’m sick of biking to work.” You would’ve been okay with just the bonus, after all, it was insanely generous. But you’d be a fool not to milk this opportunity for what it was worth.

“Anything else, princess?” The condescending nickname only added fuel to the fire as you fired off more requests.

“I don’t want to share my office with the twins anymore, they’re loud and annoying and they have no respect for the sanctity of my monthly budgets.”

“Okay.”

You masked your shock at his sudden magnanimity. “One last thing. Since you’ve come to the realisation that I am, in fact, a valuable asset to your organisation, you’re not allowed to be a dick to me anymore.”

“Elaborate.”

“No more calling me stupid or other degrading insults, threatening my job security, threatening my life — just no more threats in general — and if you’re going to assign me extra work that is beyond the scope of my job description, a please and thank you would be nice.”

“You’re pushing it, Y/N.” Of course treating his employees like human beings was the most difficult request.

“You just agreed to give me a million dollars and being nice to me is where you draw the line?”

Sylus sighed, deliberating in silence for a moment. When he saw that your resolve was unrelenting, he begrudgingly agreed. He wasn’t sure where your newfound confidence was coming from, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t find it the slightest bit attractive.

“Alright, you’ve made your case. I’ll agree to your conditions. Now, please fix it.”

It took every fibre of your being not to break out into song and dance at your victory. “Let me get my coat.”

______________

You stared at the horrific mess your beautiful spreadsheet had turned in to. This was a disaster. A colossal, unfathomable disaster. “How could you let it get this bad?” Your voice was dripping with fear, it was like staring a train wreck.

“It wasn’t like it happened on purpose. Besides, if you’d never—” Sylus interrupted his own sentence which you were sure contained an insult, and you could almost hear the evil chuckle resounding in your head at the sight of his obedience. This was going to be fun.

“This is going to take forever to fix.” It would actually only take the day, but you didn’t need to tell him that.

“I need it fixed by the end of the week. Please.” He looked pained as he added the nicety. Soooooo much fun.

“Add on a massage chair for my office and I’ll get it done by Wednesday.” You wondered just how far you could push his desperation.

“Deal.” He held his hand out for you to shake and when you did, you felt a strange sense of accomplishment. Now you could tell people ‘How to Tame Your Dragon’ was loosely based on your life.

“You know, Sylus, I’m liking this new dynamic.” Your shit-eating grin couldn’t be wiped off of your face no matter how hard you tried.

“Oh I can tell. Now, get to work.” Sylus made a show of pulling out your office chair for you, and when you sat in it for the first time in two months, you felt an overwhelming sense of nostalgia. And for once, the recollection of your past didn’t hurt as much as it usually did.

Mid-November

This time around, your employment under Sylus was much more pleasant. Surprisingly, he’d actually adhered to your conditions.

The twins were slightly offended that you no longer wanted to share your office with them, but their gratefulness for your return trumped any antagonism they had for you. You were kind of a celebrity in Onychinus’s executive team, their saviour, if you will.

But, the enjoyment of your newly established status could not be savoured. Undoing months of mistakes was turning out to be positively exhausting. You were an accountant; socially awkward, stuck to her Excel sheets, spent most of her free time indulging in shitty rom-coms. You were not built for briefing CEOs, Chairmen, investors, subsidiaries and of course, debtors, on your commitment to stability via video call.

Sylus insisted it had to be you, even though he usually handled the bureaucratic part of the organisation. Something about him not being able to answer their questions regarding the numbers. You told him you would tell him what to say through an ear piece like a spy movie, but he responded with a resounding no.

It was more like ‘hell will freeze over before I turn into a glorified puppet, Y/N, blah blah blah’.

Every single one-on-one conference call made you feel like you were getting hives. Not to mention the active effort it took you to refrain from making stupid jokes at every opportunity. When the last one with the representative from Onychinus’s main bank was over, you had officially smoothed over all bad blood between Onychinus and it’s stakeholders.

Giving yourself a moment to recalibrate from the sheer amount of social interaction you had been subjected to, you glared at the shared calendar event. ‘Miss Hunter’s Birthday in 13 days’.

You tried to distract yourself from that familiar sinking feeling in your gut with your work. Sylus never remembered your birthday, but it wasn’t like it mattered. You were his accountant, he was your boss. That was the extent of your relationship, even though you’d both said things to each other that would cause your HR department, if you had one, to self-emulate. But in the chaos of buying your home, going back to work and learning how to navigate life with your unwanted companion; grief, you’d forgotten all about your feelings for Sylus.

They weren’t gone but they were muted, like a voice screaming out to you while your head was underwater. Most of the time they were easy to ignore, but in times like these they were too loud to overlook.

You couldn’t dwell on your self-pity for long because there was a knock at your door. No one ever knocked on your door, people just tended to barge in.

“Come in?” Confusion dripped from your voice. When the door opened to a pair of twins with shameful smiles, you knew they were about to ask you for a favour.

“We… fucked up.” Three words you never wanted to hear coming out of either Luke or Kieran’s mouth.

“What have you done?”

“Long story short. Boss sent us to pick up a gem for Miss Hunter’s birthday. It’s really rare. The man who owns them is this older, heart of gold type old guy who refuses to sell to nefarious people because of his outdated principles. He wouldn’t give it to us, said something about us being part of Onychinus. We knew if boss didn’t get this gem today he’d have our heads displayed on mantels in his office, so we threatened the old man with a gun and then an entire arsenal of security appeared out of thin air and we were blacklisted from the property.” Kieran’s explanation left you astounded.

The twins had their fair share of asinine mistakes, but this one might have taken the cake.

“You threatened an old man with a gun…”

“Yes.” Kieran responded.

“Over a gem?” You asked in disbelief.

“A very rare gem!” Luke corrected.

“Huh. How am I supposed to help?” It was a genuine question, you didn’t really see a way out of this one.

“Can you go and convince the old man to sell the gem to you?” Kieran’s request made your eyes widen in protest.

“No way! I’ve had my fill of uncomfortable business meetings.” And wasn’t that the truth. If you had to see one more man in a business suit ask you ‘if you even knew what you were talking about’ you might throw your laptop into the first body of water you could find.

“Please, Y/N. Sylus will kill us. Do you want our deaths to hang over your conscience?”

Luke’s question was an innocent hyperbole, but at the mention of deaths hanging over your conscience, you were reminded of your mom. Your face dropped, your fingers slowly forgetting what they were supposed to type. Kieran, the more observant twin, elbowed Luke.

“Fuck, Y/N. I’m sorry, I forgot.”

“No, no, it’s fine. You don’t have to walk on eggshells around me, I’m not going to burst into tears.” You weren’t sure that was true quite yet, but fake it till you make it, right?

“Will you help us? Please. We’ll owe you big time.” The line was clearly rehearsed since they said it in unison, or maybe it was some weird twin telepathy thing. Either way, it freaked you out so much you agreed.

“Fine, what’s the address?”

_____________

You knocked on the large wooden door of a beautiful home. It was classically designed, a perfect intersection between modernity and the timeless complexity of archaic house designs. It was rare to see homes like these in a society that prided itself on progress.

When you heard the sound of soft feet shuffling toward the door, you felt the guilt eat at you internally. You were tricking an old man into selling a gem to people he very reasonably did not want to sell to.

“Y/M/N?”

Did he— why did he call you by your mother’s name?

“That was my mother, I’m her daughter, Y/N.”

“Oh, thank god, I was beginning to think I’d finally lost it. Come in, come in.”

Your interest had been piqued, and you forgot all about the gem as you entered the old man’s home.

“I must say, I’m surprised you’re here. Did your mother send you?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “She passed away just over a month ago.”

“Oh god. I’m so sorry, dear. Are you alright?” The question was filled with so much warmth it made tears well up in your eyes. Your mother never had any friends, and you were estranged from your extended family. You were all alone in your grief, and hearing someone who knew your mom in some capacity ask you if you were alright felt bittersweet.

“Yeah. I’m doing okay. If you don’t mind me asking, how did you know her?”

“You don’t know? I figured that was why you were here.”

Right. The reason you were here, the gem.

“No, I’m actually here entirely coincidentally, I came to acquire a gem.”

“Which gem were you after, dear?” He asked the question as he looked around his living room for something.

“The Painite one.”

He stopped pacing and turned to you with an accusatory stare. “This wouldn’t happen to be related to those two rowdy boys who came by earlier, right?”

“Well…” You couldn’t lie to him. He looked like the old man from ‘Up’, it was entirely unfair.

“I’m afraid I can’t sell to you. I’m concerned you’ve even gotten yourself wrapped up in such a terrible organisation.” He shook his head, his disappointment evident in his tone.

“Look, I know what you’ve heard, but most of the rumours you hear about Onychinus don’t have a modicum of truth to them.”

“Then why hasn’t your boss cleared them up?” A great question.

“In this business its good to have a reputation that instills fear in others. You’ve seen what people do for Protocores and black-market items. Onychinus serves as a… regulatory body of the underworld, the only people they harm are those that harm others.” The practiced speech came from years of listening to Sylus give it to yourself and others.

“I don’t know dear, I’ve heard some horrific things about their leader, Sylus.” You were probably responsible for a few of those rumours…

“The only horrific thing about him is his sharp tongue. Seriously, he has a way of finding your worst insecurity and then using it to drag you through the dirt.” Recognising the unhelpful tangent, you digressed.

“But when it comes to business, he’s fair and when someone hurts the people he cares about, he’s merciless. He has a good heart, it’s just encased under a very thick layer of stone.” When he didn’t look convinced, you continued.

“In fact, he wants this gem for a woman. She’s special to him and its her birthday in a few days. She’s a hunter, by the way, she saves lives. So, even if you don’t want to sell to Sylus because he’s probably half demon, you should sell it to her. You know, by proxy.” The argument was a stretch but you couldn’t help your rambling.

“You are the spitting image of your mother.”

The comment caught you off-guard.

“You think so?”

“I knew your mother when she was your age. She used to sing live at a bar I frequented with my friends. It was a simpler time, before wanderers attacked. I was head over heels in love with her, and I knew she felt the same way about me. But, she got wrapped up with the wrong guy, a real bad man, and it took finding out she was pregnant with you to break it off with him.” He recounted his past as he continued to search his drawers for something, when he came back to the couch in front of yours, he handed you a photo.

It was of your mother, except she was much younger. She was on a stage performing, a part of her life she never told you about. She looked happy and was glowing with the kind of ethereal beauty that never dwindled with time. He was right, you looked a lot like her.

“Can I keep this?” You looked up at the man, and he gave you a small nod.

“Of course. You know, I offered to help her when I found out, said I’d raise the baby as my own, but she told me I was destined for more than she could give me. Said she had to do this on her own. She was stubborn but she loved boundlessly, Y/N, just like you.”

You were confused, this man hadn’t known you for very long, how could he know such a thing? “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know what that Sylus man has done to deserve your adoration, but I can tell you love him. And for you to come here on his behalf to convince me to sell him the rarest gem in the world for another woman? You truly do have your mother’s heart.”

His words sprouted doubt and introspection. Why were you trying so hard to get Sylus such a romantic gift when it was meant for someone else? Were you secretly a masochist?

“If it’s alright with you Y/N, I’d love to get to know you. Your mother was my first love, and it’s nice to have someone to talk to about her.”

You gave him the sincerest smile you could come up with. “I’d like that. I don’t really have anyone to talk to about her either.”

“As for the gem, I’ll sell it to you but only if you promise to love a man who will go to these lengths for you, not someone else.”

“I promise.” You’d promise to try, at least. You told the man, who you now knew was Dr Jeffery Hunt the geologist, that you needed to get back to work. You exchanged contact information with a promise to catch up later and trade stories about your mom.

You left the house with the rarest gem in the world in one hand, and an infinitely more valuable picture of your mother in the other.

___________

You walked toward your office where Luke and Kieran should have been to find the door slightly ajar. You stopped just outside the door when you heard Sylus’s voice from inside your office.

“You sent Y/N to get the gem? Was the task too difficult for the two of you?” You tried to sympathise with the twins, but it was kind of funny to see Sylus berate someone else for once.

“The owner said he wouldn’t sell to Onychinus—” Kieran’s attempt at an explanation was shot down instantly.

“So you pick some random person off the street and send them in instead. You don’t send the girl the gem is for to go retrieve her own present. You have completely ruined the surprise.”

Wait, what?

“No, it’s fine, we sent Y/N not Miss Hunter.”

“Miss Hun— why would you assume it’s for her?” The question hung in there for an uncomfortable moment, after all you assumed the same thing.

“Her birthday’s in a few days.” Luke timidly added.

“How do you know that?”

“It’s in the shared calendar.”

“Fuck.”

With your ear plastered shamelessly against the door, you smiled to yourself. He had a bad habit of putting personal events in the shared calendar.

“The gem was for Y/N. Thanks to you imbeciles I have to figure something else out.”

Why was the gem for you? Was it poisonous? You started down at the velvet box in your hand and wondered if the gem was secretly a teeny tiny bomb.

“Is it Y/N’s birthday soon too?” Kieran’s question offended you. Your birthday was in March and both he and Luke were at your celebratory birthday dinner last year.

“No, that’s in March. It’s to celebrate her 3rd year with Onychinus. Although now I’m wondering if your time here has come to an end.” It was kind of sadistic, but it was comforting to know that Sylus threatened other people’s job security over minor inconveniences too.

“No! Please, we promise we’ll make it up to you.”

You stopped listening to the conversation as you opened the box in your hand. The gem glistened under the artificial lights as questions fired off in your brain. He wanted to give this gem to you? How did he even remember the day you started at Onychinus? And he knew your birthday?

Before you could search for the answers, the sound of footsteps approaching the door made you panic. You tried fruitlessly to escape the long hallway but Sylus stormed out before you could.

“I um, got that gem for you.” You pretended you weren’t eavesdropping and held the gem out to him, but he pushed it back toward you.

“Thanks. I was going to have it turned into a necklace, but since the cat’s out of the bag, you can decide what to do with it.” He clearly knew you’d heard everything and gave the twins a pointed glare as they scurried out of your office.

“It’s really too much. Most employers get their employees a gift card or something.” You tried to hand it back again, but he was unrelenting.

“I’m not most employers, and you definitely aren’t most employees.” The loaded compliment made you bite back a smile.

“In that case, a necklace would be nice. I have a photo of my mom when she was my age, she wore a necklace with a similar looking gem. Do you think you could find someone who can copy the design? It would mean a lot. I’d pay for it, of course.” You kept the photo in your wallet now, it quickly became one of your favourites. When you passed the photo to him, he looked at it for far longer than necessary.

“Consider it done, and your money’s no good with me. Save it for something else.” He paused for a moment, took a photo of the necklace on his phone and returned the photograph. “I see where you get your beauty from.” The comment was so nonchalant and inconsistent with Sylus’s usual dialogue that you were left speechless. Your heart battered against your ribcage as if it were trying to escape and mount itself onto him instead. Traitorous organ.

You watched him turn around and walk toward his office. The sight of him walking away from you brought back memories of that day in the graveyard and what you’d said to Sylus before he left.

“You can judge me all you want, but it won’t change the fact that when you die, no one will mourn you.”

The guilt was eating away at your conscience, and you knew you had to let him know that you didn’t mean what you said. Especially not now.

“Sylus, wait.” He stopped just as his hand reached the doorknob of his office door and looked up at you expectantly.

You raked your mind for the right thing to say, and Sylus didn’t make a sound as you prolonged the silence.

“If you died, I’d mourn you.” And you meant it. You maintained eye contact despite the urge to look away from his intense gaze in an attempt to convey your sincerity.

He shook his head with a slight chuckle in response, and walked into his office wordlessly.

You figured he hadn’t given what you said a second thought. It was foolish to think you could ever hurt the impenetrable Sylus’s feelings. You weren’t even sure he had feelings.

But, unbeknownst to you, when Sylus closed the door behind him, he felt himself let out a breath that alleviated a pressure in his chest he didn’t know he’d been carrying. What you’d said to him in the graveyard weighed on him like an uncomfortable tumour.

Sylus knew you were right, but the idea of no one caring for him never bothered him before, not until you said it. It dawned on him that the only person who’s idea of him actually affected how he thought of himself was yours.

Late-November

“Finish up, we have a reservation at six.” At the sound of your boss’s voice, you looked up from your computer screen. Your eyes were watery from staring at the ledger for hours but you still couldn’t reconcile the $15.70 that was missing. It was driving you insane.

“Was there a meeting I forgot existed?” The calendar looked empty from where it stood on your second monitor. Well, it was empty now that Sylus deleted the shared calendar event for Miss Hunter’s birthday which should’ve been yesterday.

“No, it’s just us. I’m taking you to dinner. Now hurry up.” You couldn’t help the frown on your face. There was surely an ulterior motive.

“Taking me to dinner? Are you asking me out on a date?” You were teasing; hell would freeze over before Sylus would ask anyone out on a date. Though, maybe he already had, after all he was busy yesterday…

“Don’t be ridiculous. We’re celebrating your third year with Onychinus. As an employer I believe rewarding long-term employees can strengthen their loyalty to the company.” He regurgitated the words like they were toxic.

“You stole that from the last issue of Forbes magazine. I would know since I was the one who gave you the article.” It was titled ‘Ten foolproof ways to make your employees like you’ and you thought it would be funny to leave it on Sylus’s desk.

“And I’m responding to your feedback like number 4 on that list suggested. Now, do you want to go to this dinner or should I ask someone else?”

You quickly scrambled out of your seat, you couldn’t miss out on a chance to see Sylus actively try to be a regular boss. Who could say no to dinner and a show?

“No, no, I’ll go.” You grabbed your bag off of the floor and followed Sylus out of the building. You asked him a series of questions about where you were going, when you’d be back, if you were getting paid for the time you were forced to spend with him, but he answered none of them.

Sylus was driving for all of 2 minutes before you began to draft an appreciation letter to the inventor of seatbelts in your head.

“You know, you may be harder to kill than a regular person, but I will die if you crash this car.” Pleading for your life in an expensive sports car was not how you expected to go.

“It’s a little early in the night for your theatrics, Y/N.” Sylus’s deadpan tone did nothing to soothe your concerns as he turned yet another sharp corner with aggressive speed.

“It’s also a little early in my life to die.” You unhelpfully added.

“Relax, will you? I’ve never crashed before.”

Well, there’s a first time for everything. You thought as you tightly gripped the handle of the door. You found yourself suddenly missing the middle-aged man who would grouchily drive you to and from work. At least he drove like he valued his life.

_______

When you arrived to the place in one piece you felt severely under dressed. Sylus was wearing his regular attire, a suit without the tie, and you were dressed in linen pants and a turtleneck. Sylus never enforced a business dress code, though in that moment you found yourself wishing he did.

The restaurant was multi-level and sat at the top of a mountain. The exterior screamed affluence and you were sure everyone who dined there was in a different tax-bracket. Sylus reserved a table on the rooftop which unfortunately meant you had to ascend four levels in your mediocre outfit that made you stick out like a sore thumb.

When you eventually reached your table, you quickly hid in your seat. While it was unrealistic to assume anyone would pay you any attention but your embarrassment was usually irrational. Nor, did it help that Sylus naturally made heads turn wherever he went. He was freakishly tall and unnervingly handsome; next to him anyone struggled to look attractive.

“You’re in a rush. Hungry?” Sylus asked across from you as you buried your face in the menu. You didn’t feel like explaining how being out with him made you feel insecure, so you forewent a response.

The waiter quickly returned with a bottle of wine. Of course Sylus’s favourite wine was known universally. Why wouldn’t it be? He practically ruled the N109 Zone.

“Thanks, she’ll have a mojito.” Before you could tell the waiter not to bring you your favourite cocktail, he was gone.

“I’m not drinking.” Your protest fell on deaf ears. “Drinking with your boss is like number 1 on the list of things you shouldn’t do if you value your job.”

“You don’t have to worry about embarrassing yourself in front of me, Y/N. You’ve done that plenty of times sober.” Sylus smirked as he made the dry joke and you held back the urge to step on his foot under the table.

Never mind. You needed a drink pronto.

“Asshole.” You muttered under your breath.

“What was that?”

“Artichokes! I said the artichoke salad looks good.” You could tell Sylus wasn’t convinced, but he dropped the matter anyway.

“Order whatever you’d like.”

“There’s no prices on the menu.” You flipped it around every which way but not a single price appeared.

“Sweetheart, the people who can afford to dine here aren’t too concerned with prices. Don’t worry and order what you wish.”

Aw, how sweet. Sylus thought you enquired about the prices because you were concerned about overspending. As if. You knew that man’s financials inside and out, if anything, you wanted to order the most expensive things on the menu.

“Jeez, my bad Mr One-Percent.” Your joke was not well received.

“Can we have one night without your incessant sarcasm?” The plea sounded genuine, but it was denied.

“We could, but that’s no fun.”

“I find you painfully unfunny, Y/N.” You smiled to yourself at his blatant lie. Everyone found you funny.

Before you could think of a retort, Sylus pulled out a large velvet box and slid it toward you on the table.

“What’s this?”

“The necklace.”

You opened it up eagerly and the sight of it brought pure bliss to your heart. It was exactly like the one your mother wore, and it was even more beautiful in person.

“It’s perfect. Thank you.” Feeling slightly remorseful for your attitude prior to the gift-exchange, you gave him a sheepish smile.

Sylus watched you lift it up to put it on, but quickly interjected. “Allow me.” He stood up, walking toward your seat. Flushed, you clumsily turned around so your back was facing him. You felt goosebumps on your skin when his cold hands bunched your hair away from your neck, the tips of his fingers leaving a trail of wired nerves in their wake.

You took your hair from his hand to hold it up, the mere feeling of your fingers brushing his gave you heart palpitations. The act was way too intimate, and despite how it good it felt to have him so close, your brain knew it was safest to pray it would be over soon.

When Sylus was done he spun you around to face him and shamelessly observed his handiwork. “It looks good.” Your brain short-circuited the moment your eyes met his, so you sat in front of him in complete silence.

The moment was rudely interrupted by the sound of a familiar voice.

“Sylus? Y/N? Fancy seeing you here!” You both turned to the source of the voice to see Miss Hunter in a beautiful baby blue gown. As if you didn’t feel bad enough about your choice in attire. You began to smile until you noticed that the arm linked with hers belonged to your mortal enemy. Dr Zayne.

You got up to greet them, despite your primal urge to push Zayne off the roof, but Sylus beat you to it. “Miss Hunter, always a pleasure.” You tried not to gag at the sight of Sylus being so gentlemanly. It became particularly hard when he kissed the top of her hand.

“I didn’t know you knew Dr Zayne.” The comment slipped out of Sylus’s tense smile with a twinge of what you thought was hostility. Was he jealous that she was with Dr Zayne? Were you jealous that he was jealous? Are you in a soap opera?

“Oh, he’s a childhood friend andmy doctor! I’m very lucky. How do you know him?” Before you could whisper to Sylus to make up some excuse, he was firing off information about your personal life to the last two people you wanted to discuss your personal life with.

“He was Y/N’s mother’s doctor.” Everyone went tense, everyone except for Miss Hunter, of course.

Your eyes followed her as she turned to you, praying she wouldn’t ask about your mother’s health. Instead, she praised your nemesis. “He’s brilliant, isn’t he?”

You wanted to scream in protest. You wanted to swing a chair into Dr Zayne’s head, and then use the broken scraps to beat him to a pulp. But you opted to force a painful smile instead.

“He’s definitely something.” You looked right at Zayne, hoping he’d understand the implications of your backhanded compliment.

“Well, we were just here to celebrate my birthday yesterday, but the hostess said it was all booked out and silly Zayne forgot to make a reservation. We just came up to the rooftop to get some pictures, but you guys should enjoy your dinner!” Miss Hunter’s polite dismissal was the perfect opportunity to end the painfully awkward interaction and move on with your night.

“Thanks.” You were about to return to your seat when Sylus decided to continue with his commitment to ruining your life.

“You guys should join us, the more the merrier, right Y/N?”

The question you had no idea how to answer only poked at the jar of pent up murderous rage you were trying to suppress. It wasn’t like you were subtle about your hatred for the Doctor, why the hell was Sylus inviting them to stay?

“Right.” You couldn’t have sounded less sincere if you tried, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You had to focus on making it out of this building without a homicide charge.

When Miss Hunter happily agreed, Sylus quickly waved down a waiter and made them transform your two-seater table into a four-seater. Unfortunately for you, the seating arrangements somehow ended up with you next to Zayne and Sylus next to Miss Hunter .

Zayne could feel the hostility radiating off of you in waves, but he was too scared to do anything about it.

“Happy birthday, by the way.” You offered Miss Hunter the nicety, since she was really the only innocent person at the table. Your unfounded hatred for her took the back-burner when Zayne was around.

“Thanks, Y/N. I love your necklace, where did you get it?” Yet another question you didn’t know how to answer. If this was how the entire night was going to be you might as well cut your losses and take your chances with jumping off the roof.

“It’s um, custom made.” You avoided Sylus’s glare.

“Well it’s beautiful.” You couldn’t help but smile at her compliment. Her sunshine-y attitude could rival yours.

“Sylus knows the guy who made it, I’m sure he could get one for you too.” You glanced at him only to see him quirk an eyebrow at your response. Was he seriously mad? You were practically the world’s greatest wingwoman.

When Miss Hunter turned to look at him, he quickly shut her down. “He retired right after making that piece, actually. Something about getting arthritis.”

He was definitely lying. You weren’t sure why he was gatekeeping this jeweller and you never got the chance to ask.

“Oh, that’s unfortunate. Hey Zayne, you’ve been awfully quiet. Say something!” Miss Hunter gave him a playful push on the shoulder as she teased him. The sight would’ve been adorable if it weren’t for satan’s incarnate sitting inches away from you.

“Yeah Zayne, how was work? Steal anymore hearts lately?” You asked the deceivingly innocuous question while breaking apart a piece of bread. The double-entendre was like a secret you both shared; though the idea of sharing anything with that waste of space made you inscrutably angry.

Sylus silently observed the interaction with curiosity. Your passive-aggressiveness was a trait he thought you only reserved for him. You were always nice, to everyone. Seeing you treat Zayne so coldly was like witnessing a beaver play the piano. It was unnatural.

“Work went as well as expected.” Zayne’s clipped reply left no room for further discussion. The conversation came to do a lull, and you took it as the opportunity to excuse yourself to the bathroom. You immediately beelined away from the table that currently situated your nightmare blunt rotation and toward the women’s bathroom that was positively Zayne-free.

The bathroom was just as extravagant as the rest of the restaurant but you didn’t get to admire it before you splashed water on your face in an attempt to cool down. There was no way you could last an entire dinner next to Zayne. Maybe you could say you were feeling sick. Probably a bad idea when he’s a doctor. Work emergency wasn’t plausible, your boss was at the table. What if you just ran away? You could live with the shame and embarrassment.

You looked up at the ceiling and silently cursed the heavens for your terrible luck. Seriously, you must’ve been a serial killer in your past life to deserve this fate. It was a never-ending series of unfortunate events, and you were desperate for a break.

When you eventually left the bathroom, Zayne was standing right outside the door. He startled you, but the moment the shock wore off your face morphed into a deadly glare.

“Look, I know you think I’m a terrible person but—”

“Monster is the term I’d use, but go on.” You rudely interrupted Zayne. He chose not to acknowledge your comment.

“I rarely get to spend time with MC and I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t ruin her birthday dinner because of me.” It didn’t take long for you to realise that MC must’ve been Miss Hunter’s first name.

Zayne ruined everything he touched, he needed no help from you.

“I’m sorry, does the fact that I’m angry at you for letting my mother die put a damper in your dinner plans?”

“Yes it does, actually.” Zayne responded quickly. He either didn’t understand sarcasm or was an even bigger dick than you thought.

“Then might I suggest you take her someplace else. It’s your fault you couldn’t get a table here. Why should I have to suffer because your incompetence knows no bounds?” You couldn’t think of a time you’d insulted someone so much in such quick succession. Dr Zayne brought out the worst in you, but you could reflect on your actions later. Right now you were at war.

“We are perfectly capable of having an amicable dinner.”

You rolled your eyes at his condescending tone. “You might be, I’m not that mature.”

“Y/N. We’re both adults.” He pleaded.

“Bite me.”

Before Zayne could open his mouth again, Sylus interrupted.

“Everything all good here?” For once in your life, you were grateful for Sylus’s interruption.

“No.” You said.

“Yes.” Zayne also said, at the exact same time.

“Zayne you should head back to the table. Miss Hunter's waiting for you.” Zayne didn’t think twice before taking the out and you internally flipped off his retreating form.

Sylus grabbed you by the forearm, his grip tight as he dragged you to a secluded part of the rooftop and away from the bathrooms.

“What’s going on with you?” He asked the moment you stopped moving, his hand still gripping onto your arm like a vice.

“Can you let go? You’re hurting me.” He quickly released you, his eyes washing over with something you couldn’t recognise as you soothed the part he’d rubbed raw.

“Why are you acting so childish?” His question would've angered you had you not been angry already.

“I hate his guts.” The response did not help your case, but you weren’t very articulate when you were upset.

“What did he do to you?” Sylus’s eyes narrowed, and he spoke in a low tone that was laced with danger. You didn’t think too much of his strange reaction, Sylus acting strange was pretty much the only consistent thing in your life lately.

You gnawed on your lip, unsure of how to respond. Your grievance against the world-renowned doctor was one you’d always kept to yourself. After all, everyone had nothing but praise for the brilliant Dr Zayne.

“Y/N, if he touched you I’ll—” Your eyes quickly widened in shock at his interpretation.

“No! Nothing like that. It’s just, a few days before my mom died, a heart came in that was a match. But there was this other guy who was younger and needed it just as badly. The policy was that the hospital's medical board would vote on who got the heart and the entire board, Zayne included, unanimously agreed that the heart should go to the other guy.” They said it wasn't personal, that it had everything to do with survival rates, but there was no way to detach personhood from medicine.

You realised that when you said it out loud, your hate seemed unfounded. “I know it wasn’t entirely his fault, but he didn’t even try to give my mom a fighting chance. He didn't say anything to sway them, he just silently agreed. He was supposed to be her advocate.” The frustration began to boil over, and before you knew it there were tears welling up in your eyes.

“God, I spent every last dollar of my paycheque to make sure she got the greatest medical care money could buy. Everyone said he was the best, but when it really mattered, he did nothing for her. I was such an idiot.” There was an uncontrollable fountain of tears streaming down your face, and you were grateful for Sylus’s decision to drag you to somewhere secluded.

The familiar tendrils of an oncoming panic attack began to wash over you as you began to hyperventilate. No matter how much you wanted to blame Dr Zayne, or the universe, or your shitty luck, the only person you could really blame was yourself. You sent her to that hospital, you convinced her to hold on for a transplant, you spent her last months on this Earth slaving away in another city instead of by her side. There was no way to get that time back.

“Y/N, look at me. It’s not your fault.” Sylus’s voice was like a beacon of light that led you through the dark tunnel you were trapped in. He cradled your face in his hands, wiping away your tears as they continued to stream down your face. But when your tears showed no signs of slowing, he pulled you into his arms, his hands holding your tear-stricken face against his chest.

He ran his long fingers through your hair as he whispered everything you wanted to hear. "It’s not your fault. It’s okay to hate him. It will get easier."

You weren’t sure how long you spent with your face buried in his chest, but by the time you’d returned to reality, his white dress shirt was slightly transparent where your tears soaked through the material.

You laughed a little at the sight, and the corners of Sylus’s lips raised ever so slightly at the sound. When he saw you were okay, Sylus began to speak. “Don’t move. I’ll grab your bag and we’ll get out of here.”

Before he could leave you tugged on the sleeve of his suit jacket. “Hey, I’m sorry I ruined your dinner.” You truly were. Sylus did not deserve to be subjected to yet another one of your meltdowns, but he seemed to have a habit of being at the wrong place at the wrong time.

“No it's my fault, I ruined it by inviting them to join us. I promise I’ll make it up to you.” Sylus then manoeuvred through the restaurant toward the nightmare table. When he returned with your bag in one hand and the other outstretched toward you, your heart skipped a beat. Or two. He played the role of the knight-in-shining-armour quite seamlessly, and he looked every bit the handsome prince charming. You tried to remind yourself why it was so dangerous to be attracted to a force like Sylus, but when he smiled at you like you were the only two people in the room, all caution was thrown to the wind.

_____________

In the spirit of making things up to you, you made Sylus take you to a restaurant of your choosing. It was a hole-in-the-wall dumpling place that charged so little one would question if they were serving real meat. But you never found better dumplings, so you took the risk anyway.

The dynamic was completely subverted as you sat on the table that was slightly sticky with cheap cleaning chemicals. Sylus was the one who looked out of place, his suit was unarguably the most expensive thing in the room and it brought joy to your miserable night to see him out of his comfort zone.

“How did you find this place?” The question was warranted, other than you two, the only other occupants in the restaurant were a few middle-schoolers.

“I used to come here a lot with my friends in high school.”

“Did they all die from food poisoning?” Sylus seemed proud of his quick-witted joke. You gave him a pointed glare to convey just how unfunny that joke was.

“Funny, but no. We just drifted apart after we graduated.” The clipped reply shut down any further inquiry. You thought back to the fond memories you had in that restaurant. Things were different when you didn’t yet know the cost of failure; before you knew what you’d be losing. And while everyone may have moved on from this small town in the N109 Zone, you never left.

“Do you even have any friends?” You choked on your drink at the question. He was genuinely asking and the worst part was, you really didn’t.

Your constant struggle to make ends meet and maintain a high GPA for your academic scholarships made it impossible to have a social life. It didn’t help that you went to a college you couldn’t afford. It was hard to find people to relate to when everyone had grown up with silver spoons. Then after you graduated you landed at Onychinus, and it wasn’t exactly a friendly environment.

“Of course I have friends.” Your lie was a feeble attempt to preserve the last of your dignity. Sylus had seen you at your absolute worst, but there was something extremely dehumanising about letting him know you were insanely lonely.

“Really, who?” His genuine surprise only made your insecurity worse.

“You don’t have to sound so shocked. Plus, you wouldn’t know them.”

“Try me.” Of course he wouldn’t drop it. When has Sylus ever let something go?

“Well, there’s Mr Demir, and Luke and Kieran, and my newly acquired friend Dr Hunt.” In a desperate attempt to keep up your lie, you pretty much just named all the people you knew.

“Y/N, that’s the man who sells you your sandwiches, my assistants, and a geologist who sold you a gem.”

“Has anyone ever told you that no one likes a know-it-all?”

“I think you should get out more. Maybe tone down the sarcasm and you might just make a friend or two.” Your jaw-dropped in faux shock at his unsolicited advice.

“You’re one to talk, your best friend is a mechanical crow.” You snuck a dumpling off of his plate while he was distracted.

“I don’t need friends, they’re unnecessary burdens.” He took a swig of his beer. You thought he’d burst into flames if he drank anything other than red wine, but he adapted to his surroundings with little effort.

You put a hand on your heart as if in pain and jokingly gave him a solemn look.“Then why would you wish such a cruel fate onto me?”

“Because I hate seeing you this miserable, Y/N.” The amusement from your banter died a quick death at his confession. You thought you kept it together most of the time, though bawling your eyes out in the N109 Zone’s hottest restaurant probably didn’t do that facade any good. But for the most part, you handled the death of your mother relatively well.

“I’m not miserable. Not all of the time at least. Like right now, I’m only mildly annoyed!” You tried to change the topic the only way you knew how, with humour, but Sylus wasn’t budging.

“You take care of everyone but yourself and all it’s done is isolate you. There needs to be a give and take, sweetheart. People don’t like feeling useless.” He spoke to you softly, as if he was scared the timbre of his voice would cause you to shatter into a million pieces.

There was a sinking feeling in your stomach that followed his oddly specific guidance. He seemed to know more about you than you thought he did, and you were torn between feeling seen and feeling judged.

“That’s sound advice. Guess you’ve been reading more magazines.” You were grasping at straws, willing to try anything to get the unwanted spotlight off of your inadequacies.

“You also need to learn how to accept help without downplaying your problems.”

“Okay, okay. You sound like my mother. Has her soul possessed you?” There you go Y/N. Play the dead mom card, that’ll work.

He chuckled at your joke. You knew he found you funny.

“You don’t know when to quit, do you?”

“Yeah, the manufacturers didn’t include an off-switch. No refunds, sorry.” You stuffed a dumpling in your mouth as the tension subsided.

“Oh, I’m not returning you, sweetheart. They’ll have to pry you from my cold dead hands.” While you knew he was probably referring to the value you brought his company as his accountant, you couldn’t stifle the butterflies that wreaked havoc in your stomach.

You didn’t move when Sylus’s car stopped outside your house.

“Thanks for tonight, I had fun. Sorry it didn’t go to plan.” You turned to him after you unbuckled your seatbelt and the tight confines of the car felt even smaller.

“It’s fine, I liked this version of events better anyway.” His low voice reverberated through the small distance between you, nestling in your heart that was beating unhealthily fast.

“Me too. Next time you take a girl to dinner you ought to let her know if she’s supposed to dress like she’s going to the met gala.” Your advice had a bitter undertone because part of you still wished you could be the only girl he’d take to dinner.

“I usually do, but this particular girl doesn’t need a fancy dress to be the most beautiful girl in the room.” The candid compliment made the butterflies do summersaults, and while their gymnastics routine continued, you found yourself at a loss for words.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” Sylus leaned over the centre console and opened the door for you, completing the chivalrous act of opening the door for you in his own unique fashion. He was so close, all it would take was one small move and his lips could’ve been on yours.

“Goodnight.” You barely got the word out through the sudden bout of breathlessness you were experiencing. And when you were finally encased in the familiar four walls of your home, you thought about every moment you shared with Sylus and how different he seemed from the man you knew before.

The weekend passed by in a blur. The necklace that looked like a carbon copy of your mom’s was nestled on your neck. A permanent reminder that made ‘Operation Sylus: No More’ infinitely harder to achieve.

Perhaps you shouldn’t have asked him to stop being a dick, because what you thought would be an easy feat was beginning to feel like climbing a mountain with a peak you couldn’t even see.

You were staring at the list on your notes app on your brand new phone in hopes of searing it into your memory.

Operation Sylus: No More

The foolproof guide of getting rid of all feelings Sylus related by the end of November.

Step 1: avoid Sylus and all thoughts of him at all costs.

Step 2: no more funny jokes, his laugh is seriously deadly.

Step 3: force yourself to remember Miss Hunter in moments of weakness. She’s the one he really wants.

Step 4: try to find love elsewhere, like the corner shop owner, he may be in his 50s and happily married but he’s kind of a silver-fox!

Step 5: do not, under any circumstances, allow yourself to be alone with Sylus for too long.

You violated step 5 that Friday when you let him take you to dinner and you were reaping the consequences of your mistake. There was no way you could survive the free-fall if you couldn't get your heart to obey your mind. The disconnect between the two vital organs might be the thing that kills you.

When you heard something shatter in the hallway, you quickly put your phone down and went out to investigate.

The door opened to Mephisto standing on a side table where an empty vase used to sit. The vase was now on the floor in pieces in front of your feet.

“You did this on purpose.” You pointed an accusing finger at the bird, but all he did was tilt his head to the side as if he couldn’t understand you. You knew he could understand you perfectly well.

The cold war between you two started in your first week at Onychinus when he would swoop at your head spontaneously for no reason. Sylus told you he did it to everyone he didn’t trust and that he’d be over it in due time, but you were too vindictive to let it slide.

Several back-and-forth pranks later, the bird seemed to have remembered the tradition you managed to forget. “If this is your way of saying you miss me then you take an awful lot after your owner.” Your words faded as you made your way to the kitchen to find the broom. However, upon your return you saw that the floor was flawless and the door to your office was closed.

You rushed in with unparalleled speed to see your worst nightmare; Sylus leaning against your desk in his usual model-like fashion with your phone in his hand.

Panic coursed through you like never before as you remembered what had been left open on your phone when you set it down and the painful fact that you left it unlocked.

Prayers for a sinkhole to open up and consume you in that very moment went unanswered as Sylus looked up at you with a smirk on his face.

“Is my laugh really deadly?” He looked amused.

Come on sinkhole. Anytime now.

When you didn’t answer, Sylus moved toward you. When he was close enough to touch you, he leaned down to make sure your eyes were on his.

“Your deadline is fast approaching, Y/N. Care for a progress report?” The taunting question made heat rush to your face.

“It was stupid, I wrote it months ago.”

“Then why did you have it open?”

You couldn’t exactly tell him that his willingness to change his cold and cruel demeanour just to keep you as his accountant revived the feelings you thought were long dead. You definitely couldn’t tell him that the necklace that suddenly weighed down your chest made your heart skip a beat every time you touched it. And there was no way you were telling him that the dinner you shared was the happiest you’d felt in a long time.

“I was going to delete it when I heard Mephisto break something in the hallway.”

“Delete it? Guess you don’t need it anymore.”

“Nope.” You popped the P on the word for emphasis. “Can I have my phone back now?” He placed the device into your outstretched hand.

“So how do you feel about me now, sweetheart?”

You tried your best to appear unperturbed by his taunting. “Mad at your blatant violation of my privacy.”

“Forgive me. I saw my name on your phone when I went to check in on you and I was curious.”

“Mephisto told you I broke the vase, didn’t he?”

“Don’t deflect. Do you still have feelings for me?”

“No, they’re gone. Can we please drop this? It’s embarrassing.” You lied in favour of self-preservation and hoped he wouldn’t be able to see through your act.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Y/N. Many women confess their love for me every month.” You rolled your eyes at his ardent display of over-confidence and narcissism, though you knew he wasn’t exaggerating.

“Okay, brace yourself there bachelor. No one said anything about love.” It was true, you never said you loved him. Whether or not you did, well that was a secret you’d take to the grave.

“So then which feeling are we discussing?” The loaded question came out of his mouth so casually, like someone ordering a latte. A display of power that reminded you of just how little this mattered to him.

Your feet felt like they were grounded in their place by an invisible force and you were sure your cheeks were beet red. You knew your mouth was slightly agape in shock, but you couldn’t even close it. Meanwhile, Sylus was unfazed, treating your feelings like a game.

“Since when do you even care about how I feel?” The sudden outburst was accompanied by your hand running through your hair out of frustration.

Sylus’s jaw clenched and for a moment he said nothing. There was no hint of amusement left on his features.

“You think I don’t care about you?” He seemed irritated by the premise, but you couldn’t figure out why. You thought Sylus was proud of his clear disregard for other people’s emotions.

“You treated me like gum stuck to the bottom of your boot for years. What reason did you give me to think otherwise?”

“I don’t know, maybe the fact that I pay you more than my highest ranking footmen. Or that I had Mephisto tail you when you used to bike to and from work to make sure you got home safe. Hell, I invented the lunch budget when I hired you just to make sure you were eating— I even banned mushrooms from my kitchen in case you wanted to eat here. Not to mention the bullshit extra work I’d assign you just so you would stay longer.”

Choosing not to dwell on the implication of his silent acts of kindness, you interjected. “Hey, I took those tasks seriously!” The twins thought you were crazy when you asked if Sylus was making those assignments up. You knew you were right.

“Don’t interrupt me.” Your mouth clamped shut at his rather reasonable request. Sylus wasn’t a big talker, so when he monologued, it was important.

“Your kindness, your humour, it all caught me off guard. No one ever treated me like you did and I had no idea how to feel. The little doodles you sent back to me on the notes I left you delineating tasks? I kept every last one. When Mephisto complained to me about that time you put corn-starch in his water fountain and almost destroyed his wiring, all I could do was laugh. I treated you like I treated all my men because I didn’t want people to find out that you were my weakness.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, but the pressure wasn’t budging. There was so much you didn’t know about Sylus, so much you completely misunderstood. This revelation caused a series of chain reactions to go off inside your brain and the weight of what he was trying to say felt suffocating.

You dreamed of a time where Sylus would reciprocate your feelings, but the reality of it was more daunting than you realised.

“All my threats are empty with you, Y/N. You’re the only one who gets away with the attitude you give me. You tell me you crashed a car worth over half-a-million dollars and all I could think about was if you were okay. I even offered to buy your house for way more than it was worth just to get you back. Do you seriously think I don’t care?”

All sound came to a stifling halt.

“Wait, you were the ‘developer’?”

The inklings of betrayal wove their way through your skin as the pieces began to fall into place. The timing of the eviction notice, the fact that he’d shown up at your house the day you received it, the way he was so quick to agree to the ridiculous bonus.

He manipulated you like a puppet on a string and let you think you were in control the entire time.

“Don’t look at me like I’m some traitor.” His audacious demand made your blood boil.

“You are a traitor! How could you do that to me?” You yelled.

“You were going to leave me like I was nothing!” For the first time since you’d met him, Sylus raised his voice to match yours. Your entire body went cold at his vulnerability. He was afraid of being abandoned, and that was a fear you both shared.

“Not seeing you every day made my heart feel like it was being ripped out of my chest. I could barely focus, all I could think about was what you were doing, who you were with. So imagine my surprise when I come to find that while I’m being tortured every minute I’m away from you, you needed more time.

“I knew I was being selfish, I knew that your grief had nothing to do with me, but I’ve never been good at putting my feelings into words. That day in the graveyard when you wouldn’t even look at me, I thought I’d lost you for good. It ate at me like a parasite. I had to get you back and I won’t apologise for not playing fair. There isn’t a rule I wouldn’t break for you, Y/N.”

It was hard to hate him for what he did when you understood where he was coming from. You were two sides of the same coin. While you overcompensated for the lack of love in your life by becoming the ultimate people-pleaser, he avoided it at every turn, saw it as a weakness. But at the core of every human being was an innate desire to be loved and an inherent fear of being abandoned.

People couldn’t leave your life if you never let them in. That was a philosophy you saw both your mother and Sylus live by. It was lonely and difficult, and if you had the power of hindsight you would’ve tried harder to convince your mother she was worthy of love. You couldn’t make that same mistake again.

You loved Sylus, that much was ingrained into the flesh of your heart. For all his rugged edges, he had a way of making things happen that was akin to magic. His determination, his grit, it was admirable.

His intelligence was infuriating, you couldn’t get anything past him. If he received the Greeks’ horse instead of the Trojans, you were sure he’d have seen right through their ruse.

His desire to make the N109 Zone a better place stemmed from a sense of altruism you could only hope to possess. And when Sylus did things for others, he never expected anything in return.

But for all his greatest traits he had some difficult ones too. He’d hurt you more times than you could count, and even if he’d changed drastically since your mother’s death, you couldn’t quite trust that he wouldn’t hurt you again.

“You already know how I feel about you.” You confessed. It was no secret you wore your heart on your sleeve, despite your mother’s constant reminders that the world was filled with terrible people who’d take advantage of your candour. You chose to see the good in others, it boded better than the grim lifestyle that came with perpetual pessimism.

“Then why are you fighting this?” His question came out pained, and it was one you could answer.

“I’ve loved you for a long time, Sylus. I loved you even though you insulted me, ignored me, reminded me I was replaceable every chance you got.

“I told myself it was just how you were, that it wasn’t personal. But when you walked out on me in the hospital when I needed you the most, I loved you a little less.”

Sylus felt an unfamiliar twinge in his chest, like someone took a needle to his heart. He left that hospital because he wasn’t sure you’d even want him there, and it pained him to see you so distraught over a problem he couldn’t fix. When MC came to him with an important mission in Skyhaven, he saw an out, and like the coward he was he took it. If he knew that you’d lose your mother while he was away, he never would have left your side.

“When you didn’t call until weeks later, when you showed up only to tell me I was being dramatic for grieving, I loved you even less. Every time you screwed me over you made it easier to live without you.”

It hurt to remember the pain you were in back then, the immense pressure of the burdens you carried. But if there was ever a chance of you and Sylus working out, he needed to know the truth.

“I’ve only ever loved two people, Sylus, and in one month it felt like I’d lost them both. I still love you, I’m afraid I couldn’t stop if I tried, but I don’t know if I can be more than your accountant right now.” You couldn’t survive another heartbreak, that much was for sure.

Even though Sylus looked like he was going to be sick, you continued.

“I thought I was okay with you treating me like everybody else, thought I was strong enough to take it. But when I saw you with Miss Hunter and the softness with which you spoke to her, it broke me. I saw that you were capable of being gentle. You just didn’t think I was a worthy recipient of your kindness.”

He was quick to correct you. “That’s not true, sweetheart. Not at all. She has something I need, something I can’t take with force. It’s why I’ve had to adopt unusual methods. If I’d known it was causing you so much pain I would’ve explained. Fuck, Y/N, you deserve so much more than just my kindness, more than I could ever give you. I can’t even think of a person on Earth who deserves you at all.”

When Sylus saw the tears begin to slide down your cheeks, he resisted the urge to wipe them away.

“I’ll give you anything you ask for, anything but letting you go. There’s nothing so broken it can’t be fixed, Y/N. You taught me that. Let me fix this.” He tested the waters by taking your hand in his and when you let him, he pulled you into his arms.

For a moment, the room was silent. You listened to his heartbeat through his chest and it might have been even faster than yours. It felt like deja vu, reminding you of that moment in the restaurant, or that time in his hallway after Zayne’s phone call. Sylus was there to comfort you more often than not, why were you so scared of letting him in?

“I want to believe you, I just don’t know that I can.” Your voice was small, timid. As if you were afraid something you’d say would shatter the sanctity of this moment and you’d find out it was all a dream.

“I won’t stop trying until you do, sweetheart. You’re it for me, there’s no one else.” He kissed the top of your head with a softness you didn’t know he possessed and the words were like bandages wrapping around the wounds inflicted by your own envy.

In the comfortable silence, Sylus made a vow. “I don’t have regrets — you know that quite well — but I regret the way I treated you. I’ll spend every lifetime repenting for my mistakes, Y/N, and I promise I’ll never let anything hurt you again.” He squeezed you tighter and the comfort his warmth brought you was a welcome change to the cold you lived in all the time.

Desperate to diffuse the overwhelming angst of the situation, you pulled away from his embrace and clapped your hands together. “Okay then, as of today we commence ‘Operation Sylus: The Redemption'.”

His loud laugh resounded through your office, and it was a sound you’d never get tired of hearing. He grabbed your chin. “Have you always been this corny?”

“I watch a lot of movies, okay? Now, shake on it.” You shook his hand off your face and held out your hand with an invitation that he instantly accepted. With his warm hand encasing yours, you whole-heartedly hoped this operation would be a success.

Late December

You assumed the dynamic between you and Sylus would drastically change following your impromptu heart-to-heart. But the changes came in small waves.

It started with the middle-aged man who silently drove you to and from work with a permanent scowl on his face being replaced by Sylus himself.

Then there was the sticky notes he’d usually place on documents explaining the task and deadline, now with an added addendum.

— That necklace was the best decision I’ve ever made.

— Your hair looks especially nice today.

— Did you switch perfumes? I like it.

— That new lipstick suits you. Your lips are all I can think about.

You saved all of them in a drawer at your desk.

He had someone bring you your lunch every day and spent your entire lunch break with you. Somedays you talked until your tongue felt like it was going to fall off, other days you just sat and ate together in silence. And every Friday afternoon, instead of taking you straight home, he’d take you to visit your mother’s grave with a new bouquet in his hands.

You were glad he was taking things slow. His small gestures made your heart flutter without overwhelming you, but it had been a month since your confrontation, and he didn’t even try to touch you.

While your inexperience with love, lust and romance never impacted any significant aspect of your life before, it was growing increasingly difficult to wait for Sylus to make the first move. He didn’t want to scare you, that much was understandable. But you were growing angsty waiting for him the tension between you two hit a boiling point.

The glorious plan came to you while you were shopping with Luke and Kieran for Onychinus’s annual Christmas gala. It was a networking event masked under the guise of a holiday celebration where the people hiding in the shadows of the underworld could spend one night communicating on the surface.

Every year, Sylus insisted he couldn’t outsource waiters for the event because of potential security leaks, so you, the twins and a couple other of his staff were forced to fill in as the help. Sylus told you that you wouldn’t have to participate this year, but you began to look forward to the event. It was like an unorthodox Christmas tradition.

Your eyes drifted to the costume section of the party store, and when they landed on a short red Santa’s helper dress, you felt a lightbulb turn on in your head. Maybe you had to give Sylus a little nudge.

“Hey, aren't you guys kind of bored of the slacks and the dress shirts he makes us wear?” You sowed the seed of doubt into your unwilling accomplices.

“Duh. I hate dressing like a butler.” Luke’s eyes continued to scan the aisle for decorations. The hall was professionally decorated, but you added your own little details every year. It made things less drab and it gave the twins an excuse to spend hours in the party supply store.

“What if we went with Christmas themed costumes this year?” The twins turned to look at you with confusion, but they quickly warmed up to the idea when you pointed at the wall of seasonal costumes.

“I’m Rudolph!” They made their declarations in unison before breaking out into an argument in the middle of the party store.

“Just flip a coin!” You desperately suggested, taking a coin out of your wallet and placing it on your thumb, ready to flip. People were beginning to stare.

“I’m heads!” They said in unison, again.

“Kieran you’re heads, Luke you’re tails.” You assigned them the parts of the coin alphabetically and watched it flip through the air. When it landed in your hands, it displayed tails. You silently hoped they would move on from this unnecessary battle and restore peace to your shopping trip again.

“Sorry Kieran, Luke’s Rudolph.” Kieran complained for the rest of the day about how annoying being an elf was, and how, since he was an inch taller than Luke, it only made sense for Luke to be the elf instead.

They argued like the siblings you never had, and for all the pain and suffering they caused you, there was no denying you loved having them around. Besides, working for Sylus left the three of you trauma-bonded for life. There wasn’t really an out from this unconventional friendship.

_________________

You failed to remember to clear the costume idea with Sylus before the gala. He was just so busy trying to organise the event, and you were similarly swamped with ensuring all the invoices were sent out on time to the right vendors. You barely saw each other in the days leading up to the big event.

The dress was shorter on you than you anticipated. Coming up just above mid-thigh, it was nothing like anything you owned in your closet. The little hat it came with was cute though and you pinned it to your hair. The make-up you wore was the same as your everyday makeup, barring the eyeliner you’d spent way too long trying to perfect and your lipstick.

Other than the dress, you really did look the same as you did most of the time. Would Sylus even notice?

Right on cue, a knock on your door snapped you out of your train of thought, and you took a deep breath before opening it.

As you expected, Sylus looked unfazed by your choice in attire as you moved out of the doorway to let him in.

“I see we’ve foregone the uniforms this year.” His comment was a welcome distraction from your insecurities.

“Whimsy is part of the Christmas spirit, you know.”

“It’s cute. Did you get that dress from the children’s section?”

The question came so out of left-field it left you were stunned. Once the shock settled in, you suddenly felt self-conscious.

“No… Why? Does it look childish?” You couldn’t help the vulnerability in your voice.

Sylus closed the distance between you in a few long strides, his hands were on you in an instant. His palm was holding onto your waist the other tracing alone the edge of your dress.

“Quite the opposite, I’m just wondering why they’d make a dress so short for adult women.”

“Adult women can dress however they want, Sylus.” You chided.

“I know, but I’ll have my hands full if I’m trying to host this event and take care of the hoards of men that will be chasing after my girl at the same time.” He whispered the words seductively into your ear, the hand on your thigh slipping ever-so-slightly under the dress.

You ignored the warm, fuzzy feeling that bloomed through you at the sound of Sylus calling you his girl.

“There won’t be ‘hoards of men’. This will be the third time I’m working your annual gala and I’ve only ever gotten hit on like four times.” You knew from the way his eyebrows furrowed that you shouldn’t have told him that.

“Four times? Men hit on you four times while I was in the room and you didn’t tell me?” He was clearly angry, his rage unwarranted since it happened right under his nose.

“I didn’t think you’d care. Most of them were like fifty, anyway!” That was true, and every time one of them placed a hand on your shoulder or your forearm, it made you grimace.

“If men approached you in long pants and a dress shirt with a plate of refreshments in your hand what do you think they’ll do when they see you in this get up?” He walked you back until you were standing against the wall.

He had a point. Maybe it was too suggestive.

“I can change—”

“No. You never have to do that with me, baby. Just stay where I can see you, alright?”

“Okay.” You felt a blush paint your cheeks. The tension was bubbling up between you. His hand was searing into your waist, his other one moving dangerously high on your thigh. You really thought this would be the moment he kissed you. But then the warmth of his hands was abruptly gone.

“Okay. You ready to go?” He held the door open for you. That was it? Frustrated at your lack of results, you silently walked out of your house.

__________________

“Did you see Sylus’s date?”

“Of course, she’s definitely the hottest girl here.”

“I bet she’s had work done.”

“If so, I need the name of her surgeon.”

You eavesdropped on the hushed whispers of a group of women who were gossiping in a corner near the kitchen. The second you walked through the doors of the extravagant event hall, you both went your separate ways and you hadn’t seen him since. So much for not letting you out of his sight.

All you heard about the entire night was his mysterious date and her envious beauty. He never told you he was bringing one, nor did he ever ask you to fill the spot. But before you could completely spiral, you reminded yourself of Sylus’s promise. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. There had to be a perfectly reasonable explanation.

“Now what’s a pretty girl like you doing working here?” Your train of thought was interrupted by the voice of a man. You turned around, expecting to see one of the many sleazy old men who frequented these events and saw you as an easy target, but all you saw was a young, attractive guy in a three-piece suit. Huh.

“Hors d’oeuvre?” You offered the plate to him in place of a response.

“No thanks. I’ve had my fill, though I must say, the other servers aren’t quite as easy on the eyes as you.” His eyes shamelessly scanned every inch of you, head-to-toe, and you felt uncomfortable under the scrutiny of his gaze.

“Oh, um thanks.” The blush on your cheeks was an unwanted biological reaction, you weren’t used to attention from men within your age range. It wasn't like you thought you were ugly, you were just a bit of a hermit.

“What’s your name, beautiful?” You were about to answer his question when someone did it for you.

“Y/N.” The voice belonged to the man of the hour who seemed to have appeared out of thin air.

“Sylus, hello. Hors d’oeuvre?” Clearly you were running out of things to say if your default reaction was to offer everyone a snack, but it was hard to find the voice to speak when you saw the girl who had her arms wrapped around his.

Miss Hunter. You should’ve known. Your eyes passed over her beautiful dress and pinned up hair. She lived up to the rumours, she was definitely the prettiest girl in the room. Next to Sylus the pair reminded you of a renaissance painting. They made sense, and clearly not just aesthetically if he brought her as his date instead of you.

Sylus saw the way your eyes trailed off to MC standing next to him. He saw the self-doubt turn your eyes glassy, and all he wanted to do was whisk you away to a private room where he could show you just how badly he wanted you, and no one else.

But his enemies were in attendance tonight, it was part of the reason he didn’t want you there. Sylus’s only weakness used to be his mortality, and even that was debatable. But now his biggest weakness was tangible, and she wore an adorable Christmas themed dress that made every man in the room brim with desire. Miss Hunter may have been the focus of all the women in attendance, but all the men could talk about was the sexy server in the little red dress. It was driving him insane.

But MC was a hunter and if he endangered her, she could get out of it unscathed without his help. Their enemies were the same, which made them perfect allies, but it also made their loved ones easy targets. Sylus would never forgive himself if he let someone hurt you. So despite the excruciating pain that coursed through him at your hurt expression, he did nothing to quell your concerns.

But he couldn’t idly stand by and let this man make a pass at you either. It was clear Henry was not aware of Sylus’s newly established no-fraternising-with-the-staff policy.

“Henry, not distracting my staff, are you?” Sylus directed his attention to his business associate. Henry ran a security company which supplied a large portion of their weaponry from Onychinus. The contract they shared was a substantial source of revenue that Sylus couldn’t afford to compromise.

“I’m just wondering where you found such delectable staff.” Sylus felt his jaw clench at the way Henry undressed you with his eyes and your consequential discomfort. Fuck the contract, he was going to make that man pay. But he couldn’t inflict his revenge quite yet, so he played nice.

“Unfortunately my staff are exclusively mine. I’m sure you understand how difficult it is to find loyal help.” Well, at least he tried to play nice. The subtle jab at Henry’s recent whistleblower scandal was a low blow, but he wasn’t above kicking below the belt.

Annoyed and slightly confused by the exchange, you rolled your eyes at the testosterone-fuelled men bickering and cleared your throat.

“I think I’m needed in the kitchen. Nice meeting you, Henry.” You gave him the kindest smile you could muster and gave Sylus no smile at all. It was the least he deserved for blindsiding you with his date.

“I should check on the catering, excuse me.” Sylus followed you to the kitchen and the second he caught up to you, he pulled you into a nearby storage closet.

There was barely any room for the both of you in there, so you were pressed up against his body. You tried to create some distance between you two, but he just pulled you back in by your waist.

“What are you doing? I’m supposed to be working and you’re supposed to be socialising. We can’t do those things from here.” You berated him quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. You didn’t really need anyone from the staff discovering you in this compromising position. You’d had enough embarrassment in one night for a lifetime.

“Miss Hunter is just here with me on business.” Sylus’s statement did little to comfort the tumultuous storm in your mind.

“I don’t care.” In a sense, it was true. It seemed your mind didn’t care whether Miss Hunter was there with him on business or not, it still hurt all the same.

“Don’t lie to me, I can tell when you’re upset.” Sylus tried to caress your cheek but you pushed his hand away.

“Okay, fine. I’m upset. Now will you let me leave?” You tried to wriggle out of his grasp but to no avail. His hand squeezed your face as he forced you to face him.

“If you’re upset, talk to me about it. Don’t antagonise me by flirting with other men. It won’t end well for them.” The fire in his eyes swore retribution and you did not want to be Henry right now.

“I wasn’t flirting!” You tried to defend yourself but you knew he’d see straight through your ruse.

“That sweet smile of yours is reserved for me and me alone.” There was no way Sylus would’ve let that over-the-top smile slide and this was exactly how you expected him to react, but it only made you more upset.

“Right, but I just have to make do with sharing you with Miss Hunter.” The irony of the situation was not lost on Sylus, but he had a laundry-list of crimes, hypocrisy was the least of them.

“I’m all yours, baby. I promise it’s just business.” He sounded sincere, and you trusted him to tell you the truth. Sylus never lied unless it was out of omission, but when you asked him a direct question, he never failed to answer honestly.

“I can help you with business.” You tried to reason, your palm resting against his pounding heart.

“Not this kind, sweetheart. I’m just trying to protect you. I need you to trust me.” You trusted Sylus with your life, with your heart. Which was why you knew you wouldn’t like the answer to the question you asked next.

“Did you sleep with her?” The mere thought of it tasted like acid on your tongue. It wasn’t like you weren’t aware of Sylus’s past, but where the other women in his life came and left like the tide, Miss Hunter’s presence was persistent.

You needed to know just how far they’d gone, even if it might destroy you.

“Yes. It was one time when we first met in September. Before I realised how I felt for you.” The words pierced straight through you like bullets of radiation. Your palm slowly slipped off of his chest and you diverted your gaze to your heels. “Y/N, you know I only want you. It meant nothing to me.”

Perhaps it wasn’t the fact that they’d slept together that hurt you so deeply. Maybe it was the way he looked at her, the way she got under his skin. Sylus may love you, but what if he wasn’t attracted to you?

The thought slipped out of you before you could mull it over. “How am I supposed to believe that when you were all over in seconds and you won’t even kiss me?!”

A hint of recognition flashed through Sylus’s eyes as he realised the catalyst behind your frustration. For some odd reason that he could never figure out, you were insecure. Even though your charm bordered on lethal and your beauty was unparalleled, you still felt inadequate. It perplexed him how someone could look so divine and not be aware of it.

“I haven’t kissed you because I wanted to make sure you were ready, sweetheart. I was worried I’d scare you away, because I’m sure if I got a taste of you I wouldn’t know how to stop.” He sounded strained when he spoke, as if he was recalling his frustration at having to hold back.

You watched him intently, his words dripped with a desire you both shared. With his body so close to yours, it was hard not to wish he’d just act on his primal instincts.

“You’re entirely unaware of your affect on me. You have no idea how precarious the string holding me back from insanity has become. When I saw you in that dress, I was sure I wouldn’t be able to hold back. But then you'd look up at me with those angelic eyes and I realise I can’t risk losing you.”

Before you could even think it through, your desire became overwhelming and your lips were on his in an instant.

It was nothing like you expected, nothing like the chaste, sweet kisses you saw in your movies. It was heated, messy, desperate. His lips ravaged yours like a man on death row devoured his last meal. You felt his desire with every movement and all the doubt you had dissipated instantly. His hands were all over you, one softly held on to your neck, while the other held on to your waist like you might disappear.

His lips moved to your cheek, your jaw and eventually the sensitive skin on your collarbone. When he bit a particularly sensitive part of your neck, you let out a whine. You hoped he hadn't given you a hickey. His face came up to yours as he looked at your lips which were red from the impact and the desire running rampant in your eyes. It might’ve been the most beautiful you’d ever looked.

“Well? I’m still here.” You whispered against his lips before giving him a chaste peck.

Sylus knew you weren’t just talking about this moment. You never left, even when he gave you a million reasons why you should. He didn’t know what he did to deserve such luck, but he knew he’d never give you a reason to walk away from him ever again.

“We should get out of here.” Somehow you knew he didn’t just mean the storage closet. He shifted to lead you out but you quickly stopped him.

“You can’t leave your own party! What about your date?” As much as the idea of MC hanging off his arm made your skin crawl, it wasn’t right to just leave her alone.

“She’ll be fine. The only woman I care about is right in front of me, and I want to do so much to her than kiss her in a storage closet.” There was an underlying promise in his tone, and you felt the slightest bit of fear that you might’ve bitten off more than you could chew.

“You’ve lasted this long, what’s one more night?” Your last ditch effort to escape the dangerous situation was unsuccessful.

“Sweetheart, I can't wait another second.” He gave you a soft, gentle kiss that conveyed his fraying restraint. Your fear felt inconsequential when he was with you, you knew you could trust him wholly with every part of you.

So, when he led you out of the storage closet and all the way to his bedroom, you never once felt scared. Or insecure. Or inadequate. Sylus worshipped you like you were his salvation and he never once let you doubt yourself again.

Later that night, as you laid in his bed underneath his covers, staring over at his peaceful sleeping expression, you realised he was your salvation too.

Christmas Day

“What’s the surprise?” You asked the same question for the umpteenth time.

“Just be patient, we’re almost there.” You let Sylus lead you through what you thought was a building while you obediently kept your eyes shut. Eventually your feet came to a halt, and you were bursting with anticipation.

“Alright, open your eyes.” When you opened them you were in the living room of a charming beach house. It was so bright it took your eyes a while to adjust, but when they did you noticed that it was decorated with splashes of your favourite shade of yellow. The large balcony doors opened to the sight of a familiar beach, and you felt a range of emotions wash over you all at once. Sadness, nostalgia, yearning.

“Merry Christmas, baby.” Sylus’s voice behind you snapped you back to reality.

“What is this place?” The awe in your voice could not be concealed.

“It’s yours. I know how much you hate being on the beach, but I also know it meant a lot to your mother. From this balcony it’ll be like you’re right there without actually being there.” He sounded almost nervous while presenting his gift to you, worried you might hate it. But there wasn’t a word that could describe the pure gratitude and love you felt for the man standing in front of you.

“You bought me a house on my mother’s favourite beach?” The disbelief in your voice was almost tangible.

“Yeah.”

“Sylus, all I got you was a pocket watch!” You thought that since you were both not very big on Christmas, you would exchange small gifts. Clearly small wasn’t a word Sylus kept in his vocabulary.

“You gave me so much more than that.” The suggestion in his voice did nothing to soothe your guilt.

“This is too much.”

“Y/N, you’re more familiar with my assets than I am, if this made a significant dent in my bank account I think you would’ve noticed when I bought it a month ago.”

“You’ve had this for a month?” The shock persisted, but he was right. His expenses ranged from a box of paperclips to the purchase of a two-hundred-million dollar industrial complex.

“Yes, I bought it the first time you asked me to take you to the beach after work.”

“But what if we didn’t work out?” A month ago that seemed like a palpable possibility, but now you couldn’t imagine your life without Sylus in it.

“I’d find a way to trick you into taking it anyway.”

You all but rolled your eyes at the memory of his less-than-graceful plan to acquire your house until you ended up working for him again.

“Right, of course. You’re quite good at that I hear.”

“I’m good at many things, I’ll remind you later.” He drawled against your ear, but before you could force him to act on his promise he spoke up again. “For now, there’s one more surprise.”

You let Sylus lead you out to the balcony with his hands on your shoulders, driving you forward. He stood behind you, his chest to your back. He pointed to a hill on the left of the house where a beautiful willow tree sat atop the beach on a cliff.

“I bought that plot of land too. I don’t want to overstep, but if you’d like, we could move your mother here. Have her final resting place be at the place she loved the most.” His voice kept you anchored as memories of your mother threatened to pull you away. It still filled your chest with overwhelming sadness when you thought of her, but the thought that she could spend forever in the place that brought her the most joy filled you with relief. You didn’t get to give your mother much, but at least Sylus helped you give her this.

You couldn’t stop the tears streaming down your face if you tried.

Sylus had come a long way from that day at the graveyard, an even longer way from the day you met him. The fact that he grew to care about your mother as much as you did made your heart swell with love for him that expanded every day. Something you didn’t even think was possible.

“She would love that.” Sylus wrapped his hands around your waist, placing an ever-so-gentle kiss on your temple. “I wish you could’ve met her when she was alive, you would’ve loved her.” They were both the strongest people you knew, and it pained you that they never got to meet.

“I’m sure I would have. After all, I am a huge fan of her work.” You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you at his cheesy joke. You were rubbing off on him, that was for sure. He peppered kisses all over the side of your face at the sound of your joyful laugh and you had to squeeze out of his grasp to make him stop.

While you wished you didn’t have to lose someone so important to you to gain another, things always had a weird way of working out. Your future was still murky, but what you did know for sure was that ’Operation Sylus: No More’ could officially be declared a massive failure. And even though the physical hole in your heart still existed, the proverbial one shrunk to half it’s size; and you had the silver-haired man with the stone-encased heart of gold to thank for that.

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realcube · 2 months ago

Text

AT THE SAME DAMN TIME!

hot w/ hq duos! (pt 2)

ft.. ushijima + tendou // kuroo + kenma // kageyama + sugawara // bokuto + atsumu + sakusa // matsukawa + hanamaki

tws & tags.. nsfw minors dni. threeways (mmf). fourway (mmmf). specific warnings before each.

note.. click here for part one.

★ USHIJIMA + TENDOU

tw & tags.. vaginal, praise, begging, size kink, implied sex worker ! reader

it may have taken a decade, but the oppertunity finally arises wherein ushijima is able to visit tendou in paris. that's not to say they haven't seen in each other in ten years, but due to ushijima's commitments and contracts with the schweiden adlers, he is very bound to japan even during his time-off, which is why tendou most often flies home for them to meet.

however, ushijima eventually managed to arrange a trip to france. tendou showed him around the city, and most importantly, the chocolaterie he opened. he worked for an employer for seven years before he opened up a shop of his own; his pride and joy, and it was currently performing very well, business-wise. ushijima was more than impressed by his old friend.

while planning the journey, ushijima was going to book a hotel but tendou urged him not to waste his money, stating that his penthouse has a spare room for wakatoshi to sleep in. he embraced tendou's kind offer, and hence, at the end of their first day in paris together, ushijima joined tendou as they travelled back to his apartment.

what he wasn't expecting though, was a random woman roaming around the penthouse when they arrived. tendou didn't seem jarred or disturbed by your presense, so ushijima assumed your weren't an intruder. but equally, you weren't cleaning or cooking, so you couldn't be hired help. did tendou have a girlfriend he failed to mention?

when he turned to his friend to question your occupany in his apartment, tendou explained that he gets quite lonely while in paris — far away from his family and most of his friends — so he pays someone to keep him company. and you do your job very well, keeping him warm inside and out.

ushijima is still quite confused by his friend's explanation, so tendou suggests a demonstration.

though, tendou knows yourtimid and don't like visitors or guests — and hence his nickname for you: 'moody kitty' — so it takes some convincing, but you eventually agree.

your bent over the crytsal top coffee table, with your face and tits smushed against its cool surface while ushijima and tendou, stood next to each other, take turns ploughing into from behind. your skirt has been ripped off, so your bare ass and glistening pussy are on full display to both of them.

currently tendou is balls-deep inside you, sloppily rutting into your cunt over and over, while his familiar, slender fingers rub your folds and tormet your sensitive clit. your melodious moans ring throughout the room and highly overpower his low grunts that emit from his gut with each sporadic thrust. "mph, what a pretty, pretty kitty." he muses. "you've got nothing to be shy about. wakatoshi thinks your sexy too, right?"

"yes." he replies bluntly. ushijima stands aside and strokes his cock, mesmerised by the way your perky ass bounces and your entire perfect body quivers around tendou's dick. meanwhile, tendou doesn't seem to care about the fact he's got your brain fried from his tip repeatedly bumping your cervix. he just continued to rut into you, despite how your twitching figure and squelching pussy indicate that you can't take much more.

"ngh, fuck, sa— hah, satori! too much.." you whine against the table, the beads of saliva forming at corner of your mouth, sticking to the table, "m' so close!"

usually that would be a trigger for tendou to fuck you even harder, but in this instance, it reminds him that he has a guest present and signals that it is time for you to switch handler. "mmh, sorry about this, sugar.. you know i love to see your pretty pussy cum but.." without warning, he jerks himself out and motions for ushijima to take his place. "wakatoshi's turn now, princess. ya ready?"

you gasp at the unexpected action; your entire body suddering at how the cold air floods your previously conjested pussy. the burning sensation in your abdomen momentarily dies down, but it's short-lived, as the gape is soon filled by ushijima bullying his fat cock into your soaked cunt.

thankfully, tendou's actions and foreplay has made you sufficiently wet and lubricated, otherwise there would be no way in hell he'd be able to fit that monster dick inside your tight hole. even you laid there, shocked that it was fully inside you, as you could feel the way it protrudes from your tummy and pushes against your walls.

"mmph, too big! too full.. i can't!" you mewl, clawing at the smooth glass surface of the table to cope with the deliciously agonising stretch of your cunt. while ushijima and tendou simply pass entertained smirks to each other at your sweet cries.

"yes, you can, kitty. don't be shy." tendou purrs while stroking your plump ass, almost patronisingly. "be a good girl for wakatoshi like you are with me. show him how well-bahaved you are. c'mon, he doesn't bite."

ushijima does far worse than bite. you most definitely weren't ready for the way he fucked you. it was like you were being repeatedly impladed, yet somehow it was the best thing you've ever experienced. he had your eyes rolling back in your head and your tongue shamelessly hanging out from your mouth.

meanwhile, an entirely amused tendou slithers under the glass coffee table and lays on his back. that way, when he looks up, he can fuck his fist to the sight of your obscene facial expressions as you get your guts rearranged by his friend.

a smirk flickers over his lips, "not so shy anymore, are we, princess?"

you can't even pretend to grant his question with a sarcastic response as your mind can't even begin to form a coherent thought, from the way ushijima's bulbous tip tortures your g-spot. his dick raking against your spongy walls over and over until they are woefully sore from having to swallow him again and again.

since you were already high from sex with tendou, less than a minute with ushijima's dick inside your pussy already had you begging for a sweet release, "p-please! it's too much.." you cry, steaming up the glass under you with your hot breath, " 'm, ahh!— gunna cum!"

tendou's face burns as his hand furiously tugs at his cock, your gorgeous face and tits serving as perfect jerk material — not to mention your pornographic moans and drenched noises from your poor cunt. "nuh-uh, (y/n). can't cum til you ask wakatoshi for permission." he coos, meeting your lust-clouded gaze from beneath the glass — he can tell how badly you need to finish but unfortunately he loves teasing you even more. "c'mon. be good n' ask. use your words, kitty."

stringing together an intelligble sentence felt like an impossible task, but as you squeezed your eyes shut, and tensed your cunt around wakatoshi's lethal dick — relentless slamming into your pussy, you somehow manage to choke out, "mmmph, please, ushi— hah, fuck!" you spluttered, barely completing two words before an overwhelming surge of bliss overcame you again, throwing you off. but you found it in you to persevere, "can i cum? please can i finish?" you hastily breath out your inquiry as if it were all one word. your chest pressing against the glass with each deep breath you heave while stifling your impending orgasm.

ushijima continues his rythmic pace, his dick throbbing with in the confines of your homey walls as he feels his own climax fast-approaching. ".. yeah." he grunts.

but now it is your turn to shock him. as soon as merely utters the golden word, your cunt immediately clamps down on him, as you let your fiery high blissfully roll over you and totally embody the lust brimming in your abdomen.

and due to this, you even elicit a quiet groan from ushijima as he succumbs to his own climax and fires his hearty load into your hole. it's the best he's every had; he lets his vision glaze over as he's transported elsewhere. somewhere hot and soft. as he revels in the way your convulsing cunt desperately milks him dry, as though it were trying to savour every last drop of his precious seed.

even once you're both done, and you start coming down from your high, he remains buried in your snug cunt. he can't bring himself to pull out.

while ushijima stands there panting, tendou takes a break from pleasuring himself to crawl out from under the table to stand at the opposite end of the coffee table, where your face is. "how's that? good, isn't she?" tendou chuckles at his typically stoic friend appearing to visibly fucked-out.

wakatoshi nods breathlessly.

tendou hums in agreement as he slips his fingers under your chin to prop it up, as he uses his other hand to manoeuvre his cock into your glistening lips. he gazes down at you, and smiles warmly as you obidiently accept his length into your mouth, "she's perfect."

★ KUROO + KENMA

tw & tags.. power dynamics, inappropriate workplace relations, cockwarming, meanie! kenma, degredation, slight analplay, praise, handjobs, good cop/bad cop

kuroo and kenma have important work to do. recently, bouncing ball corp and it's affiliates have signed a contact to run a major event with the japanese volleyball association, led by yours truly. hence, there was less than a week less until the event and still mass amounts of work needing done.

there were heaps of paper work in kenma's office that required filing, while kuroo had thousands of emails to respond to and marketing to clear as head of the jva promotional division. together they decided that they needed to tackle this backlog head-on and pull an all-nighter together at kenma's office in tokyo. there they could have peace and quiet to simply focus on all the duties that required their attention.

they begun work at around 9AM and kept going until 5PM. then they took a one hour dinner break before resuming the grind. however, they ran out of steam again at around midnight, despite the multiple coffees and energy drinks they had gone through.

something stronger was nessecary to keep them focussed. and thankfully kenma had just the thing.

his cute secretary usually clocked out at 5PM but kenma was weary of the fact him and kuroo were going to stay late today, so he scheduled you a night shift instead.

kuroo was skeptical at how a secretary would be able to help with their workload, but he kept his inquires to himself while kenma summoned you to the office.

you arrived around ten minutes afer he texted you, and when kuroo laid eyes on you, it was like he had been instantly awoken, but mostly below the belt. the way your white blouse clung to your alluring figure, and your skirt was inappropriately tight and he could leer over every curve of your perky ass.

"ten minutes? what the hell.." kenma chides, but with a lot less force than usual — he's too tired to spank you like he usually does.

"sorry! i fell asleep at my desk again.." you clasp your hands together and apologise profusely, "i am really sorry. i put a special ringtone for your texts too that's really loud but i still slept through it.."

"again.. do i need a shock collar or something?" he stresses, fidgeting with the pen in his hand as he slouches against his desk. "or how about a vibrator? and i can keep the controller for it."

you blush at the idea, and kuroo is also thoroughly scandalised upon hearing the way kenma talks to his assistant. surely that violates lots of workplace harassment laws, he thinks to himself. however, his view will change once he starts to understand the special nature of the relationship you have with your boss.

"kenma, be nice." he comments. but kenma just rolls his eyes.

"this is kuroo, the head of the promotional divison at the jva." he introduces you to kuroo, then does the reverse, "and this is my secretary, (y/n)." his head snaps back round to glare daggers at you, "be polite, (y/n). don't embarrass me."

you nod nervously under his piercing amber scrutiny and rush over to shake kuroo's hand. "hi, nice to meet you, sir." you splutter.

kuroo smiles up at you warmly, "nice to meet you too." he's got a strong grip but you don't let go until he does first. then, you glance back at kenma for his approval, but all you see is him motioning for you to come closer to him.

which you do, wordlessly. once you are within arms-length, he yanks you forwards and pulls your skirt up, revealing your supple ass and your black thong. "you call that underwear? that's dental floss, slut.."

he spreads your cheeks and runs his slender fingers over your cute asshole, entranced by the way it subtly quivers at his cold touch. "kenma.. stop.." you whine, and kuroo watches in dismay as this happens.

little does he know, you are completed accustomed to and accepting of kenma's perverted antics. you're just a lil' shy when it comes to ass stuff. but even then, you have a safe word with kenma and it certainly isn't 'stop'. kuroo is too horrified (and turned-on) to utter a single word. he's petrified.

kenma lets go of your ass and for moment kuroo believes he has come to his senses, until kenma commands in a low voice, "strip." then kuroo's jaw virtually falls to the floor. and he's even more shocked when you actually do it.

they both watch intently as you sensually pull your skirt down then follow it up by tugging your panties off to reveal your entire ass and pussy. you also unbutton your blouse, then undo your bra and let your tits fall out. your nipples visibly pebbled and erect due to the cold air. and finally, you slip your heels off and shuffle awkwardly in place, awaiting further instruction.

midway through your little show, kenma begins to pull his trousers down to free hardened length. when he holds it in his hand, he doesn't even need to say a word, he just gazes up at you with that risque glint in his eye and you are already trained on what to do next.

usually he'll suck your clit a bit first or play with your nipples to dampen you enough to take his cock, but he hasn't this time, hence you especially struggle to sink down on him. but being the helpful man he is, he pushes you down by the shoulders until your sat nicely on his lap and he is balls-deep inside you.

"nngh, kenma, hurts.." you stutter, your nails digging into the thick material of his shirt. your growing increasing wet by the second, your juices even dripping down his shaft, but that hardly takes away from the strain on your walls.

"of course it does.." he mutters, picking up his pen in one hand and resting the other on the small of your back. "just stay put, okay?"

at some point during that suspicious encounter, kuroo was able to put the pieces together and realised that your relationship might not be entirely professional, like he had initially thought. which was a relief; he worried he was going to have to file an urgent report to HR about his childhood best friend.

"kuroo.." kenma spoke softly, "come over."

kuroo was unsure at first, but perhaps it was due the growing tent in his pants, or maybe his lust-clouded judgement, but he gave minimal resistance before he stood up from his chair, and dragged it over to kenma's side of the desk.

he then took a seat again, but right beside you and kenma. your face was hooked over kenma's shoulder, nuzzling into his bleached hair, while kuroo admired your naked figure, tenderly tracing your exposed spine with the pads of his fingers.

despite this attention, you paid no mind to kuroo whatsoever, causing a gasp to be ripped from your throat when kenma smacks your plump ass. "(y/n), what did i say about being polite?"

you pout at his harsh words then turn to kuroo with glossy eyes, who can only dote over your adorable expression. he cups your cheek in his hands and coos, "aw, don't be so mean to the pretty girl, kenma." he directs his first comment at his friend, then the latter at you, "you're tired, sweet thing, aren't you?"

you nod at his understanding, then nuzzle into his neck instead. he chuckles at this, "yeah? we're all sleepy, huh." you quickly realise he's more buff than kenma, from the way his muscles flex against your skin as he rubs your back. also, he smells like a man; an expensive man. you don't know what cologne he's wearing but it's intoxicating and so romantic.

kuroo starts to undo his fly and pull his cock out from the parition in the fabric of his trousers, but kenma — cold stare not averting from the paperwork in front of him — is quick to warn, "careful. she's a messy slut." he accenuates his point by shifitng his spare hand from the small of your back to under your ass, where he lift you slightly to reveal the creamy ring of essence you've left at his base.

kuroo, opting to save his trousers from being soiled, pulls them down to his knees. "not a slut," kuroo correct gently, as he works on freeing his dick from his briefs, "just excited."

you nod, gaze dropping to watch kuroo rub his long, exposed shaft. his other hand toys with your nipple, playfully but firm enough that it forces your body to face him. he huffs a chuckle at the way you gawk at his impressive length, "think you can help me out too, beautiful?"

"mhm." your hand wanders over his beefy thigh before you fingers cautiously wrap around his cock. his fierce eyes are fixed to you with a glaring precion, soaking up your every move. from the way your bare tits sway as you lean forward, or how you swallow a lump in your throat formed due to kenma cock still nestled up within your walls.

once you have him fully in your grip, you begin to pump his cock gently — stroking it, more than anything. and kuroo lets out a satisfied sigh at the stimulation. however, kenma must have misinterpreted it as a sigh of frustration, as he urges you, "(y/n), go faster. why're you being so lazy today?"

kuroo shakes his head, relaxing back into his chair, and holding your face into his neck by cradling your head. "it's fine, kenma. she's doing perfect." he reassures, pressing a benign peck on your temple, smiling into your skin, "you're too harsh."

kenma rolls his eyes, not averting his feline eyes from the work afore him even once, "she's not your secretary; i know she can do better." kenma argues, in his signature monotone, on accentuated by his tired voice, "maybe you're just too nice to whores."

"awh, don't listen to kenma, sweetheart. you're not a whore." he musues, admiring the way your pretty hands tug at his dick, and how your gorgeous naked body looks sprawled out across him and kenma. he could just eat you up; starting with those cute tits. "maybe you should come back to the jva headquarters with me. i have a lot of things i could use your help with."

"stop that." kenma spits.

kuroo titters at his half-assed attempt to poach his friend's secretary, then leans forward so he can reach his laptop. the rest of the night goes on like this, with kenma's cock planted inside your pussy, and kuroo occasionally grunting under his breath while you stroke him at a very mild rate. it's awfully intimate, and although you anticipate the encounter will escelate once kuroo and kenma finish their work, unfortunately you all fall asleep before that happens. and the janitor has a nasty surprise when he walks in on you all in that position.

★ KAGEYAMA + SUGAWARA

tws & tags.. oral (m receiving) , tit jobs, rough sex, handjob, sex worker! reader, degredation, praise and general messiness

the schweiden adlers scheduled a practise match against another team in their base location, and even though kageyama didn't anyone to watch, sugawara heard about the match through the grapevine and decided to attend — since he was in the area and had the day off work — in order to surprise and show support for an old friend.

suga appears in the stands with only around thirty other people watching, since it was only a practise match. around halfway through the game, kageyama noticed his familiar face in the small crowd, and they briefly flashed each other smiles of acknowledgement.

after the match, suga approached kageyama and they caught up a little bit. talking about what they've been doing since graduation and how things have been going in their personal lives. their conversation was cut short though as kageyama was being urged to shower and change out of his jersey by his coach, and suga happily offered to walk with him to the changing room.

as they walked through the hallways of the sports centre, they continued their idle chatter. suga brought up, "being a professional volleyball must be stressful, huh?"

"eh. not really." kageyama shrugged.

"huh?! seriously?! i mean, i work at an elementary school and i'm stressed out, like, all the time. i've already started finding grey hairs!" suga explains frantically, "so, i have no idea how you cope as a volleyball player. when there's so much pressure for you to perform well at matches, in front of millions of people."

kageyama is a bit perplexed by the 'grey hairs' comment, but he glosses over that and instead replies, "i guess it is a lot of pressure sometimes. but i deal with it pretty well."

"how?" suga asks desperately, anticipating kageyama to introduce him to some sort of intricate zen technique, or a life-changing diet regime. and naturally he was extremely disappointed when tobio responds with,

"there's a janitor at home base who gives blowjobs for ¥4000."

suga simply stares with his mouth hung agape, astounded. taking bjs off some old crusty janitor was not the solution he was seeking at all. however, kageyama must've interpreted his stunned silence as curiosity, as he added, "c'mon, i'll show you." as he makes a b-line down some random hallway, which was clearly not the direction they were meant to go in for the changing rooms, and suga has no choice but to follow him as he can't navigate through this building on his own.

albeit, he makes his intentions very clear as he marches after kageyama, "i'm not going to pay some random guy for a service like that. and you shouldn't be doing that either, it's messed u—" as he drones on, kageyama halts outside a random door and knocks on it, and suga is left truly speechless when the door creaks open and stood there is you in your tight-fitting janitors outfit.

suddenly, suga was reaching into his wallet to see if he had ¥4000 on him.

after an awkward interaction (followed by a smooth monetary transaction), your kneeled down in the janitor's cupboard with suga and kageyama stood in front of you. your bare chest was exposed but you kept your pants on, unlike the two of them who were eager to jam their dicks down your pretty throat.

kageyama was as rough as usual, making full use of your hair in order to maneuver you around to his will, forcing you to deepthroat his cock when he felt like it. "just like that, fuck. keep fuckin' going." he'd heave angrily, brows furrowed together in hedonistic fury.

he loved seeing the imprint of his dick in your neck, or against your puffy cheeks. and the way your eyes would screw shut whenever you got a taste of his bitter precum that would seep onto your tongue as you sucked. "better not stop.."

sugawara was far more adept at feigning kindness. he wouldn't grip your hair the way kageyama would, no, whenevr he wanted your attention, he'd gently cup your chin and guide it so you were gazing up at him. but it was all an act really, because he was far more perverted than kageyama every was. like a wolf in sheep's clothing.

whenever you were pleasing tobio, suga would lean over and fondle your tits while you'd pump his cock. he'd tug and pinch at your hardened nipples and smirk devilishly whenever he'd get any reaction from you. and he was up for far more than bjs, he'd bend his knees slightly so his dick slid perfectly between your tits, and when you'd press your girls together, he audibly groaned at the soft sensation.

through heavy lidded eyes you met the doting hazel stare of suga, who smiles down at you, "you're so pretty.." he muses, leaning over to cup your cheek in his hand, gently grazing your burning skin with his thumb. "such soft tits. you're a dream, dear." the kindness was foreign to you, thus you smiled up at him, while he continued to drag his dick between your tits, bumping your chin occassionally.

kageyama was quick to notice that your mouth was currently unoccupied, and hence seized the oppertunity to snap your head round towards him by your hair, causing you to yelp. "go on," he urged, guiding his cock back to your closed mouth and tapping his leaky tip against your lips, "get to work. swallow it, slut." he growled, a mocking smirk playing on his features.

tobio wasn't usually so forceful with you. he was abrasive, sure, but never rude. there was something different about him today, but admittedly, you kinda enjoyed it. the sinister glint in his ocean eyes caused a canal of heat to stir in your core, and pool in your panties, as you gazed up at him and obidently accepted his length back into your adoring mouth. all while sugawara was still thrusting his dick between your plush tits.

you pushed them together even further, causing a stifled whimper to be pulled from suga. "uhh— that's perfect, angel. thank you — acht, so much." he heaves, unable to suppress a delighted grin at your adorable little face, all stuffed with kageyama's cock, and your gorgeous tits which engulf him so well. "you're too good at that.."

kageyama's cock is shoved virgously down your throat, and he basically uses your mouth as his very own fleshlight. piloting your movements with his fist balled up in your hair, as his hips rock against your sloppy mouth. "heh, you look like a fuckin' whore like this." he blabbers through gritted teeth, "shit- might be cause you are one." and you can tell by the way his grin disappated and his eyes grow watery that he's getting close to his high.

but suga beats him at the chase, as his dick twitches against your chest and before you are given any time to prepare, he unloads his seed between your tits. and being the kind woman you are, you use your hands to push them together to keep his cock wrapped up tight as he climaxes, even if that means your entire chin, neck and tits are all coated in a layer of his semen.

he's got quite a hefty load, and he only pulls away once you are thoroughly painted. his eyes were screwed shut while he came, but once he is able to pry one open and look at the sticky mess he has made of you, he can't help but snicker to himself. "acht, sorry, angel. i've made an awful mess of you, haven't i?" he hums, talking to you in a disturbingly clement tone, "don't worry, it'll be easy to clean. we are in a janitor's cupboard, there should be something that could wi—"

"don't. she looks hot like this." kageyama states bluntly. during sugawara's orgasm, kageyama mercifully reduced his pace and allowed you to slowly bob back and forth on his length and lick his shaft. but not to make it easier for you or anything, of course not; it just happened naturally as kageyama was more entertained by watching sugawara cover you with his hot cum. it was so filthy.

"hah, look like even more of a whore now. covered in cum." kageyama huffed out a chuckle and began to increase the rate at which he was thrusting his cock into your mouth, with such intensity it was such to leave your lips bruised. "bet you like that, don't you? don't you?"

"mmph!" was all you were able to respond as kageyama frantically slammed you against his cock over and over, right until his thick cum unexpectedly shot down your throat. warm and suffocating, threatening to stick to the walls of your throat if you don't swallow it all — so you do, tentatively.

meanwhile, kageyama and suga's eyes did not part from you, not once. "yeah, drink it all up." kageyama groans, stumbling in place from his euphoric high, "savour it and don't miss any. not a drop."

you choke it all down like he orders, then open your mouth to show the proof. kageyama exhales in satisfaction, while sugawara pats your head, "wow, what a good girl, eh?"

you nod, pleased with your work, and believing that the session was coming to a close, you are about to stand upright from your knelt position on the floor, until suga uses his hand on your head to push you back down. "not so fast, angel. you're not done quite yet." he sings, reaching for his wallet which he sat on one of your shelves, "there's another ¥8000 in it for you if you want to go again."

you press your lips together and furrow your brows contemplatively. it's a tricky decision, and suga can detect your hesitancy, and thus he attempts to further persuade you, "c'mon, i think you'd look so pretty covered with some more of our cum, eh?"

★ MATSUKAWA + HANAMAKI

tws & tags.. analplay, vaginal, fingering, shower sex and just general pervertedness.

what you did not realise was that becoming matsukawa's girlfriend and moving in with him and hanamaki meant you were signing up be a live-in sex doll for both of them. and they were so so mean to you.

despite still living together, you didn't quite grasp how close they were prior to moving in together. they were certainly a dynamic duo. it's like you couldn't even have sex with just matsukawa anymore, it always had to be a threeway. which you didn't mind at first because double penetration is always fun, but it often gets to a point where you are so overstimulated, you can no longer tell if the cock stuffed balls-deep into your mouth is your boyfriend's, or someone else's. and the copious amount of cum dribbling out of your ass might've been his too.

and they weren't just meanies in bed either. matsukawa had a fasination with your tits and would pinch your nipples or tug at them while you were trying to cook dinner — or when you were trying to do anything in peace, really. hanamaki was more of an ass man, but when it came to you, he was just an all-round provoker. whenever you wore a skirt he'd always try to pinch your clit or tease your pussy in any way he could. it drove you crazy but you also loved it.

and it was impossible to escape them either, since there was usually always at least one of them in the house. and they were both constantly on. you can't even watch a movie together in peace; when you are at the most climactic part, and you assume they are both super absorbed into the film, they'll both start trying to finger your holes out of nowhere.

hell, you can't shower alone any more, they need to insert themselves in there too. even if they just had a shower that same morning.

so, here you all are together, squeezed into the one shower cubicle because they can't seem to seperate themselves from you for twenty minutes. you're all nude and pressed up against each; mattsun is standing in front of you, facing you and rubbing shampoo into your hair, while hanamaki is stood behind you, his erect cock sliding betwen your plump thighs.

you smile into your boyfriend's buff chest, as he caresses shampoo into your scalp, while you work on exfoliating your arms. he chuckles at the sensation and tilts your head up so he can press a long, sensual kiss upon your lips, which you happily return.

as your lips intimately weave together, you feel one of soap hands attach itself your tit and begin fondling it. you can't help but giggle at how typical that is, but you keep kissing and allow him to continue, as he still uses his other hand to massage your scalp. "got such cute tits, baby." he groans against your lips.

"you say that all the time.." you whine, and he only laughs.

"'cos it's true." he briefly pinches your nipple, causing you to mewl, "they're perfect. you're perfect, (y/n). got the best body i've every seen." his kisses trail from the corner of your lips to your jaw, to your neck, until your head is tossed back and you're moaning as he sucks deep hickeys into your skin. now his grip on your head is just being used to keep you close.

"barf." hanamaki grunts to himself while rolling his eyes. he was originally lathering shower gel on your back, be he seems to have descended to massaging your ass cheeks.

you cry even louder as matsukawa's fingers travel from your tits to between your thighs. he toys around with your labia and aggressively rubs your clit a little to warm you up, but due to all the lubrication from the shower, he doesn't need to wait long before he is able to slip his two digits right up your pleading enterance. "nghh— issei, don't stop, please!"

"i won't, baby. this desperate cunt need me that bad, huh?" his mouth frees itself from your neck, leaving marks that will surely blossom into pigmented hickeys by the morning, and he begins to kiss you again. but this time much more feverishly, shoving his tongue into your mouth and grinding your bodies against each other as he rapidly fingers you.

your legs even part slightly to grant him more access, and he takes this as a sign to speed up. lethally thrusting into your pussy and curling his digits against your spongy, sensitive walls until your basically sobbing for mercy into the kiss. "ahh— fuck, issei. 'ts too good! faster, faster please, issei! i need you.."

"course you need me, baby." his honeyed words are hot against your earlobe, "who else is going to fuck this greedy pussy everyday, huh? tell me." naturally, one of your legs ended up hooked around his hips; not only to increase the closeness but also so he could reach your g-spot with ease. however, hanamaki interpretted that as an oppertunity for himself. you paid no mind at all when you heard him getting on his knees behind you, no, you were far too involved with the wet make-out session with your boyfriend and the way he expert finger slid feverishly in and out of your cunt.

but you had no choice but to notice his actions when you felt hanamaki's tongue worm into your tight ass. instinctually you jerked away from the kiss to gasp and writhe at the strange sensation, but matsukawa held you very still in his strong arms.

"awh, baby, what's wrong?"

it didn't take a genius to figure out what his friend was doing to you, and he couldn't help but be entertained by it. the way your little face screwed up at the intrusion yet he could tell your eyes glinted with excitement at the foreign sensation. your even bit down harshly on your bottom lip as though you were trying to prevent your tongue rolling out and giving away how much you truly liked it. so fucked out you couldn't even respond to his simple question.

"look at that face. aren't you just the cutest thing?" he swiped one of his soapy hands across your nose, leaving a trail of foam in it's wake. not that you cared, you were too overcome by the feeling of hanamaki's tongue gliding in and out of your ass, and his soft lips working expertly against your puckered hole. "feel good, baby? want more?"

you hesitated, looking up at your boyfriend with a slight grimace, and he contiued, "no point in lyin'. i can see it all over your face. you like it, dont you? you don't need to be ashamed, pretty girl. we're here to take care of you, okay?" he got increasingly closer to your face as he spoke, and at the end of his question, he locked his lips with yours. and kissed back, despite the shrieks caged at the base of your throat from how good hanamaki's mouth was making you feel. in tandem with your boyfriend's fingers still sloppily thrusting into your messy cunt.

when hanamaki eventually pulled out, you were only spared a momentarily rest, as the power of matsukawa's fingers was growing by the second. perhaps you had been given relief from the tongue inserted into your hole, but the force of matsukawa's fingering was ready to lead you to your climax at any moment. and you were moaning desperately and frantically against his lips in preparation. "issei, please, please! 'm so close, fuck me faster. please, issei."

meanwhile, hanamaki had grown painfully bored. it wasn't fair that his friend got all of you attention — and why? just because the two of you were dating? rubbish.

he thought maybe while in the shower he should focus on cleaning himself. he searched for a bar of soap, then a luffa. during which, he saw one of those luffa's attached to stick hanging from the shower caddy. the stick part was likely to aid in the luffa reaching one's back, but it gave him a bright idea.

he reached over and grabbed it. and just as your insides were ready to spill all over your boyfriend's fingers stuffed into your pussy, hanamaki jams the handle right up your tight asshole. as much of the length as he could manage in one push.

"takahiro!" you squeal, your voice echoing off the walls of the shower as you finally come undone over your boyfriend's fingers. your own fluids ejecting from your pussy mixing in with the lukewarm water already dripping all down your legs.

"takahiro?" matsukawa defensively jerks his fingers straight out of your pussy upon hearing you call his friend's name instead of his own. "who has been fucking your cunt this whole time?" he argues, completely oblivious to what is going on behind the scenes.

"you like that, (y/n)?" hanamaki muses cockily, toying with the stick a tiny bit. observing how moving it only slightly would elicit such large reactions from you. "want my dick in there too? huh?"

"what?" matsukawa snips.

★ BOKUTO + ATSUMU + SAKUSA

tws & tags.. oral (m + f receiving), anal, breeding kink, impact play, rough sex, degredation, praise, squirting. won't make sense unless you read part one.

sakusa subconsciously twitches at the delicious sight of you completely bare, bent over in front of bokuto, and your glossy lips wrapped firmly around the base of atsumu's cock.

invited into the ordeal, regularly he'd turn his nose up at something like and scornfully report the indecency to the coach, but there was just something so alluring about you in this state. that's how his legs moved on their own to carry him towards your body, specifically situating himself beside bokuto and promptly kneeling down.

as he does so, his eyes are lasered to your gorgeous, gently shivering body, all bare and exposed for them. his gaze is especially stuck to your pretty, glistening cunt, currently stuffed with bokuto's beefy cock and drooling around it.

bokuto and atsumu are both in a state of shock. they're still out of breath as they were coming down from their imminent, unfulfilled orgasms, due to sakusa's rude interuption. but they can't find it in themselves to be mad or frustrated. in fact, they briefly share a look of relief with each other, due to sakusa opting to join their little tryst instead of rebuking them for it.

however, evidently some shuffling needs to be done in order to accommodate for sakusa's desires. he's on his knees beside bokuto, clearly wanting to get a taste of your pretty pussy (thankfully before it was soiled with bokuto's cum.) so bokuto, very kindly, pulls out with a lewd squelching noise, to allow kiyoomi to shuffle over between your legs so his head aligns with your cunt.

"you okay if kiyoomi joins in, baby?" atsumu asks mockingly while stroking your hair, snickering when your reply is entirely muffled by his cock stuffed in your mouth.

"she doesn't mind, do ya?" bokuto asks rhetorically, grabbing a joyous fistful of your ass as he does so. "this pussy's wet enough for all of us, huh?"

"yeah, you're a brave girl, you can handle three guys, right?" atsumu looks down at you with a condescending smirk, as he strokes your head with his thumb, "we'll be gentle with this delicate body, promise."

"you know we take good care of ya." bokuto smiles, holding his cock which has been smeared with your fluids. not that he minds, only makes it easier for him to relocate and slip it straight into your tight ass, along with the subtle forewarning, "incoming." before he jams it right into you.

atsumu laughs as he watches you eyes screw shut and your mouth twitches around his dick. "that hurt, baby?" he teases, not expecting a response. he can read it all by the mere expression on your face. it was the most sultry agony, the congestive sensation created a infectious pleasure that pervaded your entire nude body. every inch of your exposed flesh pricked in delight at how bokuto's fat length felt in your snug ass.

"shit, she's tight.." bokuto gritted, barely leaving you with any time to adjust before he automatically began rolling his hips against your ass, "don't think you'll ever pull me out of her.." he panted with a ghost of a smile.

the pace began to pick up, in every hole. atsumu held your face in place as he always did, while he fucked into it. while bokuto marvelled in the newly discovered sensation, groaning uncontrollably while slowly thrusting into your pristine asshole — very sedate and savouring every inch of you.

the new addition, sakusa, was planted between your legs. his big hand captured your thigh to hold it in place and ensure your legs were sufficiently parted. his thumb dug into your supple skin while his other hand worked at your folds, spreading them wide so he could admire your splayed pussy for a moment. then, he buried the flat of his tongue deep against your labia, and pressed his lips against your cunt — exploring your pussy thoroughly with just his mouth, investigating every dip and lapping at each part.

he was quick to locate your sensitive nub and paid it all sorts of attention: from vibrating his tongue against it to sucking on it to kissing it tenderly. all of which caused you to whine as atsumu continued to shove his cock down your throat.

"fuck— ki— mmph, kiyoomi, what're you doing t'her?" he grunted, tossing his head back from the way your mouth reverberated around his dick. "the bitch won't shut the fuck up— mgh, that slutty mouth."

sakusa didn't answer. though you did feel him smile against your juicy cunt. this confirmation was enough to persuade him to venture further. his furious make-out session with your damp pussy was halted when he abruptly chose to dive inside your hole, swiftly shoving his tongue past your entrance and worming around in your homey walls. all while his lips still moved against your puffy folds.

since he had been teetering on the edge of an orgasm right before sakusa had entered the changing room, it wasn't long before atsumu's pumping into your mouth became sporadic, and he began to lose stamina, due to his impending climax clouding his mind and draining his energy. "ah, shit, baby. you've got me so close; so god damn close. finish me off quick and i won't make a mess all in this pretty hair, mkay?" he joked (or at least, you hoped he was joking.)

"y-yeah, me too.." and bokuto was the same, although since your clenched little asshole was basically suckling on his cock, his pace had steadily been far more relaxed, holding onto your plush ass cheeks while he leisurely dragged his cock from and into your hole, exhibiting a prolonged groan each time. "shit.. look, your ass won't let go of my cock. hah, guess i gotta cum inside. you don't mind, do ya, (y/n)?"

"nah, she's used to being our cumdump." atsumu huffed a chuckle.

"damn right she is." bokuto panted with a harsh slap on your ass, causing you to clamp down on his cock which pried a stifled whimper from him. "shit." he cursed under this breath.

the bubbling pool of hot liquid within in your stomach was also growing exponentially every passing second. you were just so full; stuffed to the brim with appendages jammed into each of your pleading, desperate holes. there was no breathing room left. bokuto's monster cock was forced so far up your ass that you were left straining to try fit him all inside, a lewd stretch of your hole each time he'd push into you. along with atsumu's length, which required you to deep-throat whenever he carelessly shoved it as deep as he could physically manage.

at the cherry on top was sakusa's expert tongue rummaging around your spongy insides as though he searching for something. and he was, and you had hell to pay when he found it; your g-spot. his merciless tongue abused that shit to an unholy degree. you were only spared a break in ten second intervals when he'd yank his tongue out of your cunt so he could kiss and lap at your wet pussy, devouring your folds and licking up your juices, but that relief was fleeting, before he would dive right back into your hole and resume his torture on that gummy, sensitive spot inside you.

you weren't sure what his agenda was. why he was so adament on making you feel extraplanar levels of ecstasy, and how he possibly got off on that, but you weren't left with much time to contemplate before you were furiously orgasming aginst his face, squirting your fluids onto the floor and into his mouth while your entire body convulsed.

bokuto and atsumu quickly followed suit. "shit, (y/n), let go— your too fuckin tight— hah—" the way your ass cleched around his cock was enough to tip him over the edge. vision filled with stars, bokuto unloaded spurts of his hot seed into your asshole, filling it all up to the brim, enough cum to peek out your puckered enterance after he pulled out. "oh, fuck.. that grip.. was insane."

meanwhile atsumu experiences a similar flurry during his finish as ropes of his sticky cum are shot down your throat. his head tips back and he grinds your face down on his dick as he finished, until the tip of your nose was brushing his base, "ah, just like that, sexy. drink it all up.. keep suckin' til i'm dry, baby. i'll tell you when to stop." he blubbered all sorts of nonsense when he was high.

by the time he removed his cock from your mouth, you were too paralysed from pleasure to even move and inch, still bent over with cum sliding down your throat, and filling up your asshole too. not to mention sakusa's lips which were still locked to your pussy, but thankfully his tongue had given your g-spot a break.

bokuto motion for atsumu to come round the back, so he lurched over. bokuto spread your cheeks and planted a big hand on the small of your back to keep you bent over, as he displayed his conquest to his friend — the sight of his cum peeking out of your puckered asshole. "so damn cute." bokuto expressed triumphantly. then he tilts his head and comments, "reminds me of a cream filled donut."

"hah, fatass."

while they were engaging in their mindless patter, sakusa had finally stopped working on your pussy and stood up straight, aiding you in doing the same. when you are upright, he snakes an arm around your lower back and pulls you close against him, gazing down at you with a hungry glint in his eyes you've never seen from him before. "while they are flaccid," his hot breath tickles your lips, while the firm tent in his pants grinds against your thigh, "do i get you all to myself?"

#sakusa smut #atsumu smut #kuroo smut #bokuto smut #haikyuu smut #kageyama smut #kenma smut #matsukawa smut #sugawara smut #ushijima smut #tendou smut #haikyuu x reader #atsumu x reader #kuroo x reader #ushijima x reader

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huh-i-guess · 9 months ago

Text

Fever

(Task force 141 x F!reader)

Summary: While out on a mission you are injected with a substance that might lead to a shift in the dynamics between the 141.

Warnings: SMUT 18+, sex pollen, fingering, dub-con/non-con (under the influence of sex pollen), choking, nasty Simon, Gaz has morals

Word Count: ~ 4.2k

(Reader's callsign is Pepper)

I don't own MW2, the characters, or the gif above.

“What the fuck was that?” You shouted as you felt a sharp pricking sensation on your left ass cheek. You reached behind you to feel what was causing the sensation and groaned as you felt a syringe protruding from your behind. You looked down and noted that you had stepped on a pressure plate of some kind and triggered the laboratory’s defense mechanism.

“Oh fuck, lass.” Johnny mumbled.

“Shit, Pepper.” Gaz exclaimed in disbelief.

“No fucking way. Why does this shit always happen to me?” You yanked the dart-like needle from your behind and examined the leftover contents. The remaining contents appeared to be a blue syrup-like fluid. You sighed and pocketed the syringe hoping you could take it back to base to have it examined by the scientists at the lab.

“Pepper, what was that?” Price called over the comms hearing the distress in everyone’s voices. Your thoughts ran at a mile a minute as you tried to figure out if you should tell your captain, that you probably had a mild crush on and always wanted to impress, that you just stepped on a trap. Or if you should lie. You hated lying to Price. It felt like you were letting him down and any time you did, you found yourself immediately retracting your statement and telling him the truth hoping he’d forgive your indiscretion. You readied your mouth to let out some kind of answer but snapped your mouth shut as you heard Gaz from your right side, “Looks like they tranqed Pepper or something. We were sweeping the lab and she was the first one in.” You turned your head toward Gaz and offered him a look that was a mix of thankfulness and regret.

“Shite. You're still standing, lieutenant?” Price probed in a tone that, only those close to him could tell, was full of doubt and concern.

“Yes sir.” You pushed further into the lab taking extra care where your steps landed. The lab had been recently abandoned by russian terrorists working on some kind of bioweapon. You could only hope that you didn’t just get dosed with whatever they were concocting. As the three of you pressed further into the dingy lab you felt like the mass of your body was slowly doubling.

“Soap. Gaz. If I drop, I need two to keep moving. We need to get this intel out of here as soon as we find it.” You could faintly hear the heavy footsteps of the terrorists behind you.

“No way in hell we’re leaving you behind.” Gaz contended.

“Listen I-”

You were quickly interrupted by Laswell’s voice in your ear, “Pepper. Evac will get to you and the boys in 11 minutes. It’ll be 2 clicks north of your current location. We’ll get you to the safe house from there.”

“Copy.” You replied as Soap took a step closer and fixed his mouth to ready a response to your order.

“Lass I don-”

“Listen. We don't have time for this. I don’t know what I got hit with but I know that at the moment we have a job to do. Let’s keep moving while I can and clear the files we came for. You will keep moving if I drop and that’s final. This mission can't be a waste of time.” You were met with an apprehensive “Yes Ma’am” and a “got it LT” and you snapped your head around to continue sweeping the lab.

You knew you were being harsh but if you gave them room to argue you’d be stuck here going back and forth with them about it. Truthfully it was a ruse to make it look like you weren’t basically shitting bricks. You couldn’t stop the thoughts that flew through your mind. I’m going to die today. Holy fuck I’m not making it out of this. I don’t know what I got hit with. How long do I have? You didn’t have much going on in your home life so the thought of a family didn’t even cross your mind until you thought about who around you did have one. Soap had his sisters back in Scotland that loved to “force” him to watch those really crappy rom-coms that he claimed he hated so much but then recommended for team bonding nights. Then you had Gaz who had his mom waiting at home for him. She always sent him care packages with little hand written notes that gave him updates on the status of his neighbors’ cat who had slowly been making itself comfortable on their property back in London. She even sent him photos of the cheeky little tuxedo cat. Your mind shifted from thoughts about yourself to thoughts about them. I have to get these boys out of here. They have so much going for them. They really are some of the best we have to offer. I can’t let them down. If I can't get out of here at least they can.

Gaz went to the computer and plugged in a decryption device and began to sift through the scientist's digital files while Soap went through some of the scattered papers left in the room.

“They were in such a rush to get out of here they weren’t even effective at scrubbing their drives. Pep, I think I might have something.” You walked to the computer Gaz was stationed at and noticed a folder titled “Project Vitality”.

“Good job, Gaz get it and we go. Soap anything?”

“A couple of poorly redacted files with the same name.” Soap chipped from your left. You made your way to him and patted his shoulder in praise.

“Alright we gotta move.” You heard the footsteps boom as the incoming enemies approached. You felt yourself slowly start to stall and noticed you had a difficult time focusing your eyes. It was like you were wearing a pair of glasses that weren’t meant for you and you couldn’t take them off. You willed your eyes to focus but it was becoming a hassle. Fuck me. You turned your head to Soap on your left and said, “Soap I need you to take point on the way out. I'll watch our backs as we exit.”

“Are you-” he started then pressed out a short, “Will do.” The look on his face was filled with so much concern, that for his sake, you almost wanted him to ask you if you were okay. He turned and rushed out of the room followed by Gaz and you at the back. The three of you navigated the winding corridors of the combatant base and made your way back, passing the rooms you had previously cleared.

“Pepper. How we doing?” Price questioned over comms.

“Got the documents and drives, sir.”

“I know you did. That’s not what I’m asking about.”

“What kind of answer do you want, Cap?

“You know what I want to hear.” You knew Price wanted the truth but you couldn't let him know the fact that you might be starting to lose motor function and that the mass of your body felt like it had doubled. There was a large part of you that wanted to make him proud and craved his approval so the thought of disappointing him always stirred something deep inside you. But then there was Gaz and Soap. They were your sergeants and they often looked to you for guidance. The image they had of you rarely faltered from confidence and strength. They were right by your side and were clearly worried for you. If you told the truth to them they probably want to stop and question your status or maybe even try to do some kind of makeshift field evaluation on you and you’d definitely lose out on valuable time.

A shaky, “I’m doing just fine, sir.” fell from your lips then silence. A sigh from Price that was then followed by a gruff, “Bring it in safe. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Of course sir.” You acknowledged. He knew you were lying. The slight tremor in your voice told him exactly what he needed to know.

Soap led the three of you out of the compound but not without running into a couple of the remaining terrorists that missed your group upon arrival. You, although struggling to see and move, caught the slight movement as you three made your way to the entrance of the compound. A brown jacket sleeve that moved just a bit too slow was all you needed to gather that the combatants had reached your location. Years of intense practice and strenuous training had you firing your weapon with a practiced precision that was barely impacted by your declining physical state.

As soon as you exited the compound you were met with a glaring brightness from the snow of the siberian tundra. The almost blinding whiteness was a massive contrast to the dimly lit compound so the massive shift in intensity had your head spinning. Gaz noticed you stumbling but only met you with a face of concern and a hand on your shoulder as he watched you struggle to get your bearings.

Trekking through the Siberian tundra in your worsening condition was one of the hardest things you'd had to do in your career. The whirling of the wind was so intense that it felt like someone was screaming directly next to your ear and the pressure of it was enough to make your head pound. The snow was coming down so hard that each snowflake that hit your face felt like a tiny pin prick over and over again. Your feet were so deep in the snow that it felt like you were gaining an extra 20 pounds of weight with the effects of the drug starting to control your movements. You tried to pull yourself together. It was undeniable at this point that you would not be winning the battle against whatever medication they injected you with.

“2 minutes till evac” Ghost chimed in your earpiece. Your hearing was so sensitive that you could almost feel the loud mechanical static and the whirl of the helicopter in the background of his response.

“Oh my days. Ghost is the one flying us out? I don’t want to end up out the bloody chopper again” Gaz groaned. Oh. I wasn’t the only one to hear the helicopter then.

“It was either me or you freeze out there, Sergeant.”

“LT, if you fly that thing the way you drive, Gaz might be better staying down here. Less chance of him getting thrown from the bloody thing.” Soap chirped.

The world slowly started to look like a mass of colors and shapes with no definite beginning or end. The only thing you could do at this point was push and pray that you were gonna have enough strength to make it to the evac point. Everything was so intense that overwhelming wasn't even the right word to describe the feeling. You struggled to pick up your head as you began to hear another distinct whooshing sound that could only belong to that of a Puma HC2.

“I’m here aren’t I?” Soap and Gaz stopped moving as Ghost put the helicopter on the ground.

“I’m glad you are sir. Good to see you, Ghost.” Soapsaid as he flung the door open and made his way on the aircraft.

“Always good to see that ugly mug of yours, Johnny.” Ghost turned his head to get a good look at everyone. “ Pepper, you don't look too hot.” Ghost concluded as you dragged yourself into the seat next to what you could have only imagined was Gaz. The words that came out of your mouth were something along the lines of “Not” and “Good” but no one really understood you with how slurred your response was. They did however understand that something was really wrong when your body slumped backward and went limp next to Gaz. You could vaguely hear the commotion of Gaz, Soap, and Simon, around you as they shouted your name and desperately tried to keep you from slipping out of consciousness. The last thing you heard was Price pressing to be informed on your state and him telling Ghost to get all of you to the safe house.

---

“A neurotoxin that sends the body into overdrive. Increases nervous sensitivity and impulsivity, and impairs functionality of the prefrontal cortex and hippocampus.” Price read from the lab report with a stubby cigar in hand.

“Why the hell would they want to make something like that?” Gaz questions.

“Apparently in small doses it can be used as an aphrodisiac that it increases blood flow throughout the body, promotes sexual stamina, and increases pleasure outcomes? They must’ve been trying to develop something to sell on the streets.” Price continues.

“Right so they dosed her with super viagra?” Soap questioned.

“That's what it sounds like?” Gaz said.

“I thought that stuff didn't work on women?” Simon interjected.

“It looks like they’ve altered it so it impacts both sexes but they haven’t been able to work out the less desirable symptoms. Tachycardia, fever, headache, dizziness, loss of consciousness, heart failure, and death.” Price paced as he read the outcomes.

“Oh shit.”

“Heart failure? Death? How do we make sure that that doesn’t happen?” Gaz frantically questioned.

“The only way the toxin can be expelled from the body is through coitus…” Price trailed off as he dropped his cigar into a bowl. That can’t be right. He read it three times just to be sure and the words on the page didn’t change.

“Steamin’ Jesus.” Soap deadpanned.

“No blood way.” Gaz stood with an open mouth.

“Someone has to fuck her.” Simon said.

---

When you awoke, you noticed you were lying on a firm mattress and were surrounded by the smell of smoke laced with a heavy sweetness that only came from Price’s cigars. You felt undeniably cold and couldn’t help but to shiver. You rubbed your fingers across your palms and felt them drenched in sweat. As you slowly began to turn to your side, you were overwhelmed with the feeling of the rough sheet that laid under you.

“What the fuck?” You noticed that you had been stripped out of your vest and snow gear and were left in your black polyester thermals. You could feel every inch of fabric that you wore and immediately moved to take off the thermals. You were left in your sports bra and underwear. Why am I taking off my clothes? I’m freezing? You ran your hands up and down your body trying to get a semblance of warmth but then decided that putting thermals back on would be too much for your unusually sensitive skin. As you dragged your hand down the sides of your thighs you couldn't help but notice how good it felt to touch yourself. You moved your hands to your inner thighs and couldn’t contain the moan that slipped from your mouth. You brushed your hand over the gusset of your panties and whined at the feel of your hand gliding over your already sensitive clit.

“Pepper?” rushed out of Gaz’s mouth as he entered the room. He looked over to the pile of thermals on the end of the bed. “How are you feeling?” he probed. When did Gaz get so attractive? He wore a red henley that hugged his arms perfectly and his soft curls made an appearance without the presence of his well worn UK hat. He made his way over to you and touched your forehead. “You’re burning up. Damn. The fever’s started.” The feeling of his hand on you was almost indescribable. He was warm and firm and exactly what you felt you needed at that moment.

You felt yourself acting on purely impulse as you grabbed his hand and dragged it down to your mouth. You started to kiss his palm and moved your attention to his thumb. You placed it firmly between your lips and began to suck. “Oh fuck.” Gaz exhaled as he watched you with wide eyes. You continued your ministrations and moved from his thumb to his index and middle fingers. You began to lick around his digits before you engulfed them in your mouth with a guttural moan. You could taste the salt and gunpowder from the mission and it only made you crave him more. You lifted your gaze to him and willed your eyes to meet his. The groan that fell from his lips was divine. You removed his fingers from your mouth and helped his hand descend to where you really needed him. “Fuck. No. I can't do that princess. Not when you're like this.”

“But I really really want you to. Come on, Kyle. It’ll help me feel so much better.” You purred. Gaz let out a shaky breath, pulled his hand from you, and walked out the room but not without you noticing him readjusting himself in his pants. Fine, I'll do it myself. You sighed and pulled your panties down your legs till they rested at your ankles. You slid your fingers between your legs and gasped at how wet you were. You slowly started to trail your finger through your folds, collecting some of the wetness that had dripped from you and began to rub your clit. As soon as your finger pressed against your reactive little nub you were in heaven. You started in small circular motions and rubbed until you felt you needed more. You moved your other hand to your breast and tugged at your nipple. You kneaded and grabbed your breast like it was the key to your survival. You’ve never felt like this before. It's like you can feel everything, everywhere, all at the same time. You felt the rough fabric of the sheets, the scratchy wool of the pillow behind your head and you felt the soft cotton that was resting around your ankles. You were still shivering from the fever but you felt like you could feel the stimulation of your clit in your toes. You needed more.

You moved your hand from your plush breast to rest right at your soaked opening. You circled your middle finger a few times just to get it wet, and sank right into your leaking entrance. “Oh fuuuuuck”. You could feel the pressure of the finger at your walls as you started to curve your finger inside of yourself searching for your g-spot. You continued rubbing your clit and curling your finger inside of you hoping to seek your elease. It felt so good but it just wasn't enough. You slipped in another finger and moaned at the intrusion. You started to pant and whine with how good you were feeling, but you felt yourself needing more. You continued the calculated movements and felt your orgasm approaching. You just needed a little more. One more push to get you there. One curl of your finger turned to two, then to three, then the pleasure turned into frustration. “Fuuuuuuck.” You groaned as you pulled your fingers from your body and layed on the mattress in a heap of sweat and frustration. You felt yourself slowly drift back into the unconscious void even as you worked to steady your breaths.

---

“She sucked my fingers. Wanted me to fuck her. With my fingers. Uh she begged me to. And she was down to her knickers” Gaz confessed as he dropped his eyes to his combat boots, too unsure to look at his team.

“Did you lad?” Price probed.

“No, I couldn't do it. I really thought about it and I- I don't know. She definitely has a fever though.”

“Hm.” Was all that left Price's mouth.

“We're gonna have to check up on her. Make sure her heart isn't working too hard and see how to keep her satiated. For her sake.” Simon stated matter of factly.

“Does it say it has to be expelled through “sexual intercourse” or can she just, ya know, uh.. “Get there”, and work it out her system.” Soap questioned, looking toward Price and seeking the answers he normally has.

“Johnny. It says coitus.” Simon replied.

“No one’s gonna fuck her like this. It’s not right.” Gaz stated.

“What if we have to?” Soap doubted.

“Maybe we should see if an orgasm is the solution. If that doesn't work then last resort, someone will do what needs to be done.” Price said with a sense of finality.

---

You felt the press of two fingers at your carotid artery and shivered at the warmth they offered. You fluttered your eyes open and nearly jumped out of your skin when they met dark brown ones behind a human skull mask. You’d seen Simon before and regularly worked with him but you'd never woken to him standing over you like the grim reaper.

“Jesus, Simon.”

“‘Just checking your heart rate.” He confirmed. Simon almost always has his gloves on. To feel his fingers at your neck had you craving more of his touch. You grabbed his hand that was at your neck and splayed it across your jugular. You looked up at him with full, pleading eyes and felt him squeeze a bit. A light moan left your lips as you begged him to squeeze harder. The groan that left his mouth would surely implant itself in the depths of your mind for years to come. The sound coming from him went straight to your core and you felt yourself clenching your thighs.

“Simon, please.”

“Fuckin’ hell. Don’t look at me like that. Not while you've got your knickers round your ankles.”

“Please. Si. I need you. I’m so fucking horny. I can feel everything Simon. Please just help me feel good. I promise I’ll be good. You can use me however you want. However you need to. Please.”

“Don't say that y/n.” He turned his gaze away from your face.

“I mean it. Please help me.”

“Just my fingers darling.”

“Yes. Yes, thank you so much.” You nodded your head eagerly and bit down on your lip. If your fingers weren't working to get you there, maybe his would. You parted your legs for him and he hung his head and rolled his shoulders while he let out a deep “Fuck”. His grip on your neck tightened and you felt your head go light. “Oh fuck yes.” His other hand made its way between your plush legs and ran between your folds. Simon’s eyes were locked onto your pussy and he was in awe of how wet you were. He knew what the toxins effects on you were but to see them in person had him stiff as a board in his pants. Fuck this was so wrong of him. He knew he wanted to help you but part of him was living out his sick and twisted fantasies. To have you, a stunning woman, dripping wet and begging for him to fuck you, he’d be insane to not feel at least a bit aroused. He dragged a finger around your clit and almost purred at the whine that left your lips. He continued to make slow and tedious circles around your clit.

“Simon, please I need more. Can you - mmm fuck- can you fuck me?” How could he deny you when you’ve asked him so nicely.

“Only with my fingers, darling.” He slipped in two fingers and groaned at how tight you were. Your back arched so deeply and he wondered to himself what it would be like to be behind you when you arched like that. Simon began to work his fingers inside of you. He started with slow but deep pumping motions and moved onto scissoring his fingers inside of you searching for that special spot that he knows will make you tick. Your breath hitched in your throat and you let out a long high pitched squeal.

“Is that it, darling? Right there? Hm?” He beamed with a sense of condescension that made your pussy tighten on his fingers.

“Oh fuck Simon. Please, please let me cum.” His fingers were hitting all of the right parts of you and you felt your orgasm nearing.

“Of course you can come, darling. Fucking soak my fingers. I know you need it. Come on, darling.”

You slid your hand down to your clit and rubbed it in furious circles. His grip tightened on your neck and you felt fuzzy everywhere. “Cum all over my fingers. Make a mess, why don't you.” And at that final comment from Simon, you felt the band within you snap as you had one of the most intense orgasms of your life. Your toes curled and your back was nearly curved into a C shape. Your pussy clenched and unclenched as Simon continued his assault. You felt your ears ringing from the intensity of the orgasm and felt like you lost hearing for a little moment. As you panted and tried to recover from your climax, Simon removed his drenched fingers from you, lifted his mask to just below his nose, and brought his hand up to his mouth. He locked eyes with you and you watched him in amazement as he cleaned you from his fingers. Your eyes flutter at how intense the sight was. His strong jaw, scarred but pink lips, and traces of stubble left you wanting more. He moved the hand that was on your neck back to your pulse point to check your heart rate.

“It’s slowed a bit. Get some rest," and with that he left the room and you felt yourself slip from consciousness.

#kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick smut #kyle gaz garrick x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley smut #john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #john price #john price x reader #my work #ghost smut #task force 141 #tf 141 #cod smut

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yzzart · 3 months ago

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⋆˙⟡ BOYFRIEND!DANTE ── HEADCANONS! ── PART TWO

── content warnings: F!reader, reference to the anime, jokes and puns with demons, mention of Eve and Vergil, a little bit of angst, content with some mature but light words and part one is here!

── word count: 744!

⭑.ᐟ Dante tells the worst, stupidest jokes you could ever hear in your entire life; and which, as time goes by, become the best. — He couldn't live without them, and he made sure you couldn't either. — His creativity and ability even in the face of extremely and frighteningly dangerous situations was admirable.

⤷ Since the first day of your relationship, you think that Dante has, keeps — or thinks about creating — a notebook full of puns, jokes and, sometimes, laughs alone and exults with them. — Nothing bizarre, it's just Dante. — Just like he sends messages during his “work” to tell you about them.

what’s a demon hunter’s favorite kind of tea? i don't know, sweetie ;P — what is it? EXORCISTI! ya know? it sounds like exorcist tea ;)

⭑.ᐟ Seeing you wearing some of his t-shirts, since there are very few of them, is something he will never get used to and will never be able to focus on, pay attention to anything other than you. — However, seeing his red coat with scarlet details on your body is enough for Dante to recognize his wild, animalistic side.

⤷ By heavens, that man worships, contemplates you by nature; as if he was born to adore your presence. — And every time you ask to use it, or just take it boldly and shamelessly, he melts, completely. — His eyes conveyed pleasure and so much desire.

“I’m starting to think it looks better on me.” — Of course, you couldn’t let the teasing go; running your hand along the sleeve, adjusting the reddish fabric, and deeply smelling your boyfriend’s scent on the coat. — “Don’t you think so, big boy?” — You bit your lower lip, hiding, and failing, a shy and so bold smile.

“I agree with everything that comes out of your mouth, my love.” — Dante was transfixed, acting as if he were hypnotized, he confirmed with greater pleasure that he was, in you. — “I really agree.” — That man was obsessed with you.

⭑.ᐟ This damn demon hunter — with a high chance of being the son of a demon, and without knowing anything about it — flirts with you every day, hour, minute and second. — Dante lives for comments, compliments and flirting with his beautiful girlfriend. — You don't have to admit it, he knows very well that you love him and can't resist all of them.

⤷ Oh, even while he's killing demonic creatures and beating up some idiots who try to ruin his work. — Dante doesn't waste time, he needs to let it be known that he's a committed and faithful guy.

“Excuse me, ma’am.” — He pointed one of his pistols at a demon, transformed, disguised as a lady who asked for his help; wow, a typical trap that never changed. — “I’m committed to my girlfriend, then.” — About to be attacked, he pulls the trigger. — “It’s so bad to be requested and desired by everyone.” — He let out a breath, picking up the phone and dialing a few digits, waiting patiently. — “Hey, my girl.”

⭑.ᐟ In that old, filthy and almost finished building — which, with your countless visits and almost becoming a resident, has gained a better appearance — you and Dante listen to music, chosen by the boy, until the last volume; it bothers the person who lives on the street in front, but who could care?

⤷ Your pool games, card games and days of just eating pizza are always accompanied by the jukebox. — Dante pretends to be at a concert, imitating playing the guitar next to you, soon, the two of you burst out laughing.

⭑.ᐟ Dante manages to hide the anguish, an unbearable tightness he feels when he remembers the loss of his mother and brother; the memory of his mother putting him in the closet, Vergil disappearing and the fire spreading disturbed him daily. — The heavens knew, they witnessed how much you wanted to help him with all this suffering; but Dante contradicted himself, saying that just by having you by his side, this pain disappeared.

⤷ It wasn’t a lie. — Dante would never dare do that to you. — He felt so good and grateful, thankful, just for your presence. — So, always after a long, boring, and extremely tiring night, Dante would cuddle up to you; specifically, he would bury his face in your neck and wish, even pray, to stay there forever.

what’s a demon’s favorite exercise? >:) baby, it's 3 AM… :/ but i'm curious, what is it? ;) possession presses—really strengthens the grip!

#dante #dante sparda #dmc dante #devil may cry #devil may cry netflix #dmc #dante x reader #dante sparda x reader #dante x you

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nereidprinc3ss · 1 year ago

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do you believe me now? | 7

in which spencer reid and inexperienced!fem reader sleep together for the first time

series masterlist

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: loss of virginity, oral f/m receiving, so much praise, pain during sex, unprotected sex, cr**mp**, bit of overstim, soft dom spence, if u don't like that freak shit (love and intimacy) this is not for u, spencer is a nerd, they're both nerds actually and that factors in heavily, you may get more from this part by FIRST reading how they met in this bonus chapter a/n: thank you all for being patient, ilysm, this was the most laborious thing i've ever done for no reason and also this part changed so many times and is not what i expected it to be so pls go in with tempered expectations and keep in mind that this story is more about the characters and their specific relationship dynamic than just being porn. i truly have no idea how you guys will react to this but i sincerely hope you love it and them like i do<3 also it's twice as long as the other parts so feedback would be very very appreciated! again i love u all and enjoy the penultimate part!

Spencer’s lips are on yours, and you weren’t expecting it—hell, you weren’t expecting him to be in your apartment. After all, he’d wished you goodnight and walked out only a moment ago.

“Spencer—wh—”

But he’s insistent with his lips, kissing you bruisingly over and over like there’s nectar on your tongue and he’s parched for you. Still, he has enough decency to not completely ignore you, exhaling a quick excuse over your flushed lips.

“I missed you.”

This time, though, you dodge his hungry kiss. Part of you thinks, as he watches you, eyes alight and breathing heavily, that he sort of likes your playing hard to get. It’s not something you do very often, admittedly.

“We’ve been apart for like, maybe a minute.”

“I didn’t even make it to the parking lot.”

Your face heats.

“Well you can’t just—you can’t just walk in like that! And I thought you said we weren’t supposed to mix fighting with pleasure.”

“Then start locking your door. And I thought you said we weren’t fighting.”

You roll your eyes in response, though your heart is still pittering in your chest.

At least his hands move to your arms, stroking up and down relatively chastely—although he has this way of making everything seem intimate. Especially when paired with those amber eyes of his—glowing like a candlelight beacon in the window guiding you home. He speaks in low, appeasing tones and darts his tongue over his lips.

“I originally said it’s a bad idea for couples to sleep together after an argument. But you know—makeup sex is ubiquitous across culture and time because it works. Anger and arousal trigger a lot of the same hormones, specifically norepinephrine which is involved in feelings of longing and—”

“Spencer.”

“You know what else?” He mutters in a way that feels dangerous. “It tends to feel better than regular sex.”

That earns a shaky exhale from you. Whether from irritation or arousal is anyone’s guess—probably a combination of both.

“So you came back to fuck me?”

It’s probably evident to Spencer from your choice of language that this already isn’t going exactly as he’d planned. He doesn’t answer right away—just regards you, gaze bouncing between your two eyes like he’s trying to calculate your level of anger.

“Is that what we’re calling it now?”

You push him away and move to walk down the hall.

“Maybe your window of opportunity has passed.”

A warm hand wraps around your wrist in the dark of the hallway and he pulls you back until you’re falling against something tall and warm and lean. The smell of polished amber and sandalwood overwhelms your senses.

“What’s wrong, angel? What happened in the minute I was gone to change your mind?” His voice is scratchy like a favorite record. It’s the voice he could hold you captive with. The one you have a very difficult time saying no to.

“I don’t know,” you mutter, unintentionally leaning back against him. “What happened to change yours?”

His response comes pressed against your ear, half-lost in your hair.

“You’re upset that I changed my mind. I thought you wanted this, honey.”

“I do,” you admit, letting your head fall back against his shoulder and bringing his arm to wrap around you. “And if you hadn’t walked out earlier I would’ve done it. But… I’m tired of us doing everything on your timeline. You just… you expect me to be amenable to what you want, constantly.” His nose and lips press into your shoulder.

“What do you mean?”

“Like… I’ve been begging you to sleep with me for I don’t even know how long. And you keep changing your mind, and I feel like you’re being really confusing about it. Obviously you don’t have to sleep with me, you never did, but I just feel kind of… jerked around. And you did it again tonight.”

A beat of silence.

“I understand your frustration,” he appeases, securing both his arms around you. You cling weakly to his wrist, to his warmth, like he’s a tether in a storm. “Would you prefer to wait until you initiate it?”

“No. Yes! I don’t know,” you huff, disentangling yourself from his arms and continuing toward your bedroom. “Now I’m annoyed at you again.”

He follows you right through the door.

“Just tell me what to do! I don’t want to be annoying.”

“I can’t. I’m being unreasonable.” You flick on your adjoining bathroom light and examine yourself in the mirror. Yeesh. The eye makeup situation is abysmal after all the crying that has taken place over the course of the evening.

“So choose to be reasonable and tell me what you want from me. I’ll give it to you.”

You frown at your reflection, pushing your hair back and rubbing at some excess mascara.

“No, you’re not understanding me. I’m not choosing to be unreasonable. My thought process regarding the situation is inherently unreasonable and there’s nothing I can do about it because it’s just the way I feel.”

“The feeling being that I’ve been too domineering over how our sexual relationship has unfolded?”

Spencer watches you in the bathroom mirror, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed as you tip some makeup remover onto a reusable cotton pad. You try not to check him out as you nod, but it’s impossible—with his sleeves rolled up to show defined forearms cradled in capable hands, and his hair all messy.

When he pushes off the wall you freeze, unsure of his next move—until he’s gently spinning you around and taking the bottle and cloth from your hands.

“Maybe it would help,” he begins, soft as he focuses on the new task, carefully bringing the round to your right eye so he can remove the bleeding mascara. You allow your eyes to flutter shut. “If I remind you why I’ve been so hesitant.”

“Because you hate giving me joy.”

He laughs, nothing more than one huff from his nose.

“You’re spoiled and we both know it.”

Point taken, as he gently wipes your makeup away for you. Your silence is his cue to continue.

“Everything I said about worrying that you would regret choosing me is true. It was especially true when I thought you felt lukewarm toward me. And all of that confusing stuff I said in the phone is true too—having sex for the first time is incredibly intimate and weird and sometimes scary. If you’re not 100% sure about your partner, or if you think your feelings are unrequited, it’s hard to be completely comfortable in such a vulnerable situation and your likelihood of getting hurt or having regrets skyrockets. I know that from experience. I wanted better for you than what I got. Still, I know it was wrong to project my feelings about the significance of sex onto you. In that regard, you’re right. I was being domineering, and I guess… I guess to an extent I’m still deflecting. I shouldn’t be trying to pretend like it’s about you when in reality I mostly just didn’t want to get hurt again. I didn’t want to go through that again, and that’s okay, but I shouldn’t have made you feel like it was something you could have changed.”

You try to process that.

“Go through what?” You whisper hoarsely. Something about having him at such close range while he takes such care with you feels whisper-y.

“Sleeping with someone who didn’t love me back.”

Your reply is small.

“Oh. Right.”

How could anyone not love him back?

Spencer’s reply is simple and kind, without a hint of, obviously you dumb bitch—which is pretty much what you’re thinking to yourself.

“Does that make sense, lovely? Do you understand why I wanted to wait?”

He lets you ponder for a while in comfortable-enough silence as he finishes removing your eye makeup with a characteristically gentle hand. When you open your eyes, he looks genuinely content, screwing the lid back on the bottle as if he’s got an eternity to wait for your answer.

“Yeah. That part makes sense. But why did you seem so… I don’t know, like, wishy-washy about it?”

Spencer’s eyes dart up to meet yours, brows slightly raised. Then a small laugh bubbles up from somewhere inside him.

“Because I’m obsessed with you. I thought about you like that constantly. I still do.”

Your breath catches at the casual admission.

“Oh.”

Spencer hums, setting the bottle down before tenderly thumbing away some excess mascara that he must have missed from under your eye.

“You didn’t think it was easy for me, did you?”

“Well… kind of,” you admit, tracking his eyes until they meet yours.

“Not sleeping with you has been among the hardest things I’ve ever done. Especially when you started begging me. That first time, when I picked you up from Penelope’s and you asked me why we hadn’t had sex yet…”

He trails off, still rubbing at your cheek as he loses himself in thought.

Eventually, you grow impatient, prompting, “what?”

“It’s not a nice thought.”

“Well, you have to tell me now,” you insist.

He half smiles, thumb straying to your lips.

“It was just… you had no idea what you were talking about, and you were ready to throw a tantrum in my living room until I gave you what you thought you wanted. Part of me was imagining bending you over the couch right then, since you thought you were so ready.”

It feels like someone has snipped the pulley that keeps your stomach in place.

“Spencer,” you splutter, convinced your cheek is tangibly heating under his touch as your head reels at the revelation that he could have such a deeply dirty and mildly sinister mind.

“I told you it wasn’t nice.”

You swallow.

“Is that… is that still what you want?”

His brows flicker again and he tucks hair behind your ear.

“To bend you over my couch? No.”

Your face warms even more and you turn to leave the bathroom, sick of his teasing.

“Okay, goodni—”

“Hold on.” Spencer catches you by your waist and pulls you back into him for the second time tonight. A dangerous smile pulls at the corners of his mouth. “I know what you meant. And no, I don’t want to bend you over my couch.” He laughs, slipping a hand under your shirt to rub your back. “You know what I want. I’m more interested in learning what you want.”

“I want…” Your eyes dance between his, and your heart flutters against the confines of your chest as you realize what you’ve wanted for so long is finally yours for the taking. “I want to stop talking about it.”

His expression neutralizes and you know it’s probably intentional to stop whatever feelings you assume him to be having color your decision.

“Oh?”

“I just think we’ve talked about it enough.”

Before he can say another word, or ask you another question, you kiss him with such passion there’s no way he can doubt how much you want this.

Only a moment passes before he allows himself to lean into it, cupping your face between reverent hands and taking control of the pace of the kiss, slowing it down until you can hardly breathe. Your little noise of want has him quickening the process, pressing against you until you’re walking backward out of the bathroom. It’s like the first crack in a dam. After that, everything becomes inevitable.

Your knees hit the back of the bed and you sit down hard on the mattress, smiling up at him. You skim the front of his thighs with your palms as he smooths your hair.

Spencer groans, leaning down and kissing you til you’re on your back.

“Don’t make that face.”

An affronted huff from you breaks the kiss up and he pulls back to study your expression.

“What do you mean don’t make that face? I was just smiling at you.”

“I know you were. And you have such a pretty smile it makes me feel guilty about… defiling you.”

Your brows flicker up and your mouth drops open with an affronted scoff.

“Watch yourself. I’ll defile you.”

“You already have,” he admits with a half-laugh as he kisses you again. “My mind was never this dirty before we met.”

“Hm. Tell me you like my smile.”

He pauses and then chuckles dryly against your mouth.

“I love your smile. You’re gorgeous. Any more demands?”

Pleased, you shake your head and pull him closer, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Not currently.”

“Really?” he murmurs, trailing kisses over your cheek and down your jaw, “I’d do just about anything you asked me right now. You don’t want to take advantage of that?”

The sensation of his lips just below your ear threatens all rational thought in your brain, but you manage a reply with only a slight delay and a hint of a waver coloring your tone.

“I shouldn’t have to demand things. You should just know to do them.”

His kisses drag lower, warm and unhurried and you’re trying not to let your hyper-sensitivity from going a week completely untouched show—but you doubt he misses the way your breath catches, or the barely audible squeaks, or the arch of your back or the tightening grip on his shirt.

“Well, for future reference—” he nips at a sensitive spot and you gasp quietly, even as you tilt your head to offer him more access. More room to bite, if he so chooses. “—I happen to enjoy it when you make demands of me. Especially when those demands entail letting me call you pretty.”

“I’ve never not let you call me pretty before,” you huff. It’s a touchy subject, and Spencer can probably sense your hackles rising, but he has you right where he wants you and so he pushes anyway.

“No. But you never believe me. We’ve had this conversation. You always act like I’m walking you to the gallows when I compliment you.”

It’s hard to make a defense when he’s leaning his weight onto one arm so he can unbutton your jeans, when he’s looking down at you with sparkling onyx and scorched-earth eyes like you’re something to be consumed. But not violently, no—ardently. Like fruit heavy on the vine. Like you’re a religious rite to the devout and deluded. A sacrament.

But it’s not a blind passion. Spencer knows you; every inch of you and every loose thread on your soul begging to be pulled. He knows you and he still wants you like this. To be perfectly honest, you’d never thought you’d feel comfortable handing yourself over to someone like this—vulnerable and all your layers of armor shed. Never in your life would you have thought you could trust a person so implicitly that you’d hand them a knife and show them exactly where to press, that you’d say, I know once you open me and you see me you’ll not want to change a thing.

You adore him. Cosmically. Enormously. In every dimension. He’s lodged so deep in your heart you have no choice but to love him eternally.

It’s deep in the midst of all these very profound revelations that you realize Spencer has stalled with your zipper undone. His hand has strayed to your hip, to sweetly push your shirt up and trace love letters into warmed and downy skin with his thumb.

“I just wish you could see yourself how I see you,” he says softly, the weight of the truth a strain on his vocal cords.

Sometimes, he is so kind it’s like a punch to your stomach. You’ve never been quite as kind as him. And nobody’s ever been as kind to you as he is. You’ve done nothing to deserve his kindness, but you know he needs a place for it, and you’re here with open arms.

He studies you a moment longer, swallowing as his eyes trail over your face and lower. You want to reach out and brush strands of caramel hair out of his face, but he seems to be thinking so hard you’re hesitant to distract him.

“I’ve never told you this, because I know you’d just shoot it down, but… you are genuinely the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met in my life.”

Something twinges in the depths of your stomach—the darker shades who live there and exist solely to whisper not enough not enough not enough to you every minute of every day.

But they’re simply not a match for the softness you find when you do reach out for his hair, or the way he looks at you. Spencer loosely wraps his fingers around your wrist—not a cuff, but an affectionate hold.

“Do you believe me?”

There’s so much earnest hope in his voice it almost jars you. He so badly wants you to understand how feels about you—he’s been trying to tell you for months and all you know how to do is refute his praise and insist on your worthlessness.

Ever since Spencer, you don’t see the faces on magazine covers or in superhero movies, no matter how mathematically flawless they are. Nobody gets close to being as beautiful as he is in your eyes. He’s in an entirely different echelon, and despite how you feel about yourself, you have to accept that he might feel the same about you.

“I do,” you say, equally soft, and 100% honest. You believe that he believes it, and that’s enough. It’s all that matters.

The shallow knit of his brow loosens. His lips ease into a suggestion of a smile. But it’s most visible in his eyes—the way smoldering coals reignite, melting the amber glass of his irises until they’re molten.

The way he kisses you then, you’d think you’d lassoed the moon and pulled it down from the sky for him. But apparently all it takes to make him incandescently, contagiously happy, is to accept a compliment.

There’s a renewed sense of urgency on his breath as he kisses you deeply and quick enough your heart is racing. It only goes faster when he remembers his previous task and begins tugging your jeans down, but he doesn’t even bother to pull them past your knees before his hand is creeping up your thigh. Goosebumps race each other across your body as you try to remember what it feels like—what he feels like. But you can’t, even as his thumb fans over your inner thigh and pushes it open, gently encouraging you to give him more access to you.

“You’re not wasting any time,” you breathe against him while he traces the edge of your underwear.

“Do you want me to slow down?”

Judging by the way the tips of his fingers only barely shy away from the fabric, he really wants the answer to be no. But you know in his searching gaze that he’d never push you.

“No, it’s fine. As long as we… don’t go this fast the whole time.”

“We won’t.” The hasty words are of lower priority than the next kiss he plants to your swollen lips. “We won’t. I just missed you so much.”

“Yeah?” You giggle airily as he drags his fingers over your clit through the material, trying to ignore the way it makes your head spin.

“Yes. Yeah.”

You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him like this, so… desperate for you, as he drops his lips to your neck and presses barely-there kisses everywhere he knows you’re sensitive. Just the feeling of his breath against your skin has you shivering. His hand between your legs only brushes your most nerve-dense spot, but a few touches in and you’re already wound up, like if Spencer doesn’t give you more soon you’ll burst. And not in the good way.

When he finally commits to actually kissing your neck, you squeak, warmth emanating from that spot just below your jaw all the way to your toes. The frantic energy of earlier is slowly melting away, and he loses focus with his hand, as it begins straying wider, stroking your hip, your inner thigh, your stomach. It’s like your nerve endings are on overdrive, delivering twice as much feedback to your brain as they normally would. Each touch feels like he’s conducting electricity over your body, like you’re a plasma ball. He’d probably like that analogy—you, a core of alternating voltage, and him, the conductor, tracing a path and giving all those electrons an easy release. If you weren’t so distracted, you’d tell Spencer you found a way to work Nikola Tesla into your mutual sex life, and he’d probably propose on the spot.

But that electricity is building fast—even more so when he drags his lips down just above your collarbone. Your breath hitches, simultaneously trying to crane your neck to give him more room, and curl into him so as to escape the stimulation. Finally he pulls away, and losing the softness of his mouth while the air feels so cold against the places he’d kissed almost hurts.

“You’re a mess,” he chuckles affectionately, raising his hand to brush hair away from your face before stroking the heated high point of your cheek. “What am I going to do with you?”

It’s teasing, but so low and gentle and honeyed it swirls your stomach.

“Whatever you want,” you admit quietly. It’s a shy confession more than it is a salacious flirtation because he already has you. And you want nothing more than for him to act on that in any way he so pleases. Whatever he does, it will be careful, and kind, and because he loves you. You know that no matter how he takes you apart—he’ll put you back together again.

“I don’t know if I can. You’re all jumpy.”

God, he has the prettiest smile—even when it’s twisted with sarcasm and a thin veneer of guilt, like he knows he shouldn’t be teasing and just can’t help himself.

“I’m not,” you defend, face heating further. “I’m not nervous. I don’t know what it is.”

That sticky sweet tone is back, pooling in his eyes and dripping all over you like nectar as he languidly looks you over.

“I didn’t say you were nervous. Just a little bit jumpy.”

It’s not accusatory—he’s simply stating a fact. Easy, gentle, designed to soothe.

You shrug helplessly and chew on your lip, unsure of how he wants you to respond. It’s definitely true that excited as you are, you’re slightly on edge. You feel taut as a string on a guitar, tense and waiting to be yanked at any second.

His expression is serene, and his thoughts inscrutable as he continues lavishing you with his eyes, down to where he’s lying over you and back up. His lips part, but he doesn’t speak for a moment as he formulates his words.

“Can we try something? There’s this tantric exercise that might help you relax.”

Your brows draw earnestly and you nod up at him, not requiring any convincing even though you have no idea what he’s talking about.

Spencer directs you to sit up, and you do—kicking your jeans all the way off so you can sit criss-cross with your hands braced on your ankles.

He’s next to you on the bed, at a slight angle, one of your knees in his lap. You blink at him.

“Now what?”

“Now you give me one of your hands,” he says, tone tinted with a hint of an amused smile, as if your impatience is funny to him. Of course it probably is.

Frowning only a little, you unlock your left arm and hold it out for him, watching curiously as he takes your one hand between his and flips it palm-up.

“Did you know,” Spencer begins, voice low and confidential, “that the fingertips are the second most sensitive part of the human body?”

“What’s the first?”

“Lips,” he murmurs, eyes fixed on your hand where he’s brushing the tips of your fingers light enough it almost tickles. “They’re both incredibly important for keeping you alive, which is why they’re one and two. But you’ll be particularly sensitive anywhere you’re vulnerable.” His words are trailing off as he brushes his thumb over your palm and to the delicate skin of your wrist. “Like here.”

His knuckles skim up your forearm, to the crook of your elbow.

“And especially here.”

You’re fascinated as he traces back down the length of your arm and over your inner-wrist, feather light. Then up once more, with the blunted edges of his nails, and your breath catches. You’ve never noticed how sensitive such an innocuous part of your body could be, but it has your stomach flipping—more so when he looses a breathy laugh. “You know, some people are actually able to reach orgasm just by light stimulation to this area.”

Your response is just as airy—you don’t recognize your voice when it comes out like that, hanging in the pitch black between you.

“Really?”

An affirmative hum from him, as he lifts your hand and places an intentional kiss over your pulse at the bend of your wrist. Your chest aches and heat is pooling in your stomach as his gently trails them up the delicate skin of your arm. Maybe you should be embarrassed by the reaction you’re having—after all, it’s just your arm. But he treats every part of you like it warrants love and attention and intimacy. Even the parts you typically ignore. Certainly parts you never considered to be sexually or romantically relevant. It’s dizzying. It’s like magic.

“Arms up,” Spencer finally directs, just as sweetly as he’s doing everything else, and helps you tug your shirt over your head. Every brush of fabric, every seam against your skin registers more than it normally would. Everything is heightened, and despite your state of undress you’re still warm. “Your neck is really sensitive, too. It’s the most commonly acknowledged erogenous zone.”

Erogenous zone. Of course this all comes back to biology.

“Tilt your head for me, honey.”

Utterly entranced and useless to not abide by him, you do so. Spencer brushes your hair over your shoulder, and if the slip of it down your back weren’t enough, the graze of his fingertips against the nape of your neck has you shivering.

The warmth of him at your throat feels completely brand new, despite having already had his lips there only minutes before. But now they ghost over your skin with a kind of novelty, and your own lips part in silent pleasure, head lolling to allow him greater access.

“Lie back.”

Without hesitation (but perhaps a bit sluggishly in your stupor) you obey, sliding down until you’re propped up only by pillows once more. Spencer takes his place propped above you once more, thighs slotted with yours as he quickly picks up where he left off.

The sweet kisses are perfect and feel so much better than you’d ever thought to notice before—but at the same time your core aches and there’s that pressure building again that’s starting to get to you.

“Spencer,” you try, and it comes out hoarse but you don’t care at all. “More.”

“You want me to leave marks?”

And the offer is so tempting you’ll wait a few more minutes to ask for what you really need, nodding semi-frantically and ‘mhm’-ing desperately.

As he gently latches onto a spot that will require concealer later but feels fantastic for now, one of his hands slips down your side, just barely letting his nails skim, and your back actually arches. It’s a shocking amount of stimulation for being nowhere near any sexual hotspots. That tiny caught breath dissolves as his fingers continue down just as lightly over your hip and thigh. Your muscles tense as you chase and run away from the feeling. It’s ridiculous.

There’s no point in trying to keep your eyes open now—they grow heavy and you let them fall shut as he sucks another love bite to your throat.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? It’s kind of weird.” He says, voicing your thoughts as he eventually decides the mark will be sufficiently dark.

“Yeah,” you agree, lacking all eloquence as he caresses every sensitive place you didn’t know you had and your hips writhe minutely in a little desperate dance of your own creation.

“Most people aren’t aware of the potential of the erogenous zones that aren’t actual sex organs. They don’t pay attention to them. You know what else is an interesting function of erotic stimulation to areas that aren’t directly involved in reproduction?”

“Hm,” you hum as his hand skims to your back. You lean into it and he promptly undoes your bra with a single hand—a skill you’re not even sure you have.

“It releases not quite as much oxytocin as an orgasm but more than sexual pleasure alone. So you’re less tense before sex than you usually would be, and you’re primed to build more trust and feel more connected with your partner during.”

God, he’s a nerd. And it’s so, so hot.

You roll over on your back again and look up at him through half-lidded eyes. The corner of his mouth flickers as he takes in your expression, before trailing downward, following the path his fingertips make over your skin as they tug the straps over your shoulders. Trying to stop him, to be shy, would be a pointless venture. He’s seen you like this and you want him to see you again.

A shaky exhale of his own brings a little smile to your face as he pulls your bra away and observes the newly bared skin with a hunger that you can feel.

“I missed you,” he murmurs, eyes cast pointedly down and thumb brushing over the side of your right breast.

“You mentioned.”

“I’m not allowed to say it again?” He teases, leaning down to kiss you soft. Your lips curve against his.

“You can say it as many times as you want.”

Spencer hums, finally thumbing over your breast’s sensitive peak. It sends a chill down your back and seeing as you’re already worked up to the point of near insanity, the pleasure from such a simple touch is much stronger than it would be otherwise.

“Good. Because I missed you a lot.”

After that, he doesn’t waste much time—only toying with your flesh for another minute as he kisses you before his hand is skimming down your abdomen and dipping below the waistband of your underwear.

“Please,” you whisper, tilting your hips toward him when he doesn’t move to touch you anymore.

“Please what?”

“Spencer, don’t.”

He smiles at this, pressing another kiss to the corner of your mouth as his hand travels lower. Fingers slip between wet folds and he begins making the lightest of circles over your clit.

“You’ve probably been waiting long enough, huh? I should be nicer.”

Your answer is a breathy almost-whine as you seek more friction against his hand.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, pressing down harder. The sensation sends sparks down to your toes and you attempt to clamp your legs shut around his wrist. “These need to stay open,” Spencer chuckles, “or else I can’t help you.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” The words are a sweet sing-song against your cheek as he kisses you there, before hooking his fingers into the fabric of your underwear and pulling down. You try to help wiggle out of them as best you can, gasping when he tosses them away and immediately returns his hand between your legs. He dips his head down, tongue lathing over your breast, and teases you with the tip of one finger circling around your entrance.

“I need—”

“Shh. Let me worry about it.”

With that, he’s dipping his ring and middle fingers just barely inside of you to the first knuckle, then back out, before pushing a bit deeper, and repeating the cycle until they’re as far as they’ll go. When he slowly starts fucking you with them, still mouthing sweetly at your breast, you’re ready to melt.

The room is quiet except for your breathy mewls, the lewd, wet sound of his fingers inside of you, and the blood rushing in your ears. Soon your breast pops from between his lips and he finds somewhere else to leave his mark. Spencer is turning you into a work of art, with his fingers, with his mouth. You don’t mind at all. You’d let him sign his name, if he could—but you doubt he’d let you get his name tattooed.

Soon you stop fighting the perpetual tug of your lids down and let them flutter shut, loosing a freer moan as he brushes over that sweet spot inside you. Even when he’d told you how to find it over the phone, it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t like this—maddening enough to have your hips twisting again and that hot bed of coals in your tummy sparking.

“Spencer,” you warn, leg twitching as he stokes the fire beyond the point where you can passively enjoy it. Either he’s got to slow down or he’s got to let you burn all the way up. You practically jump when you feel his tongue flick over your clit—you hadn’t even been aware of his shifting positions. Maybe you’re more out of it than you’d previously thought. Your eyes shoot open and he does it again. “Oh, fuck.”

The words are simple, quiet, and apparently that’s not enough. Before you can even process the sensation of the tip of his tongue on you he’s latching onto your clit, suckling in a way that has your vision momentarily going out. You cry out and kick involuntarily, hips jumping up, but he captures your leg and presses you down into the mattress so no matter how much you squirm and squeak you can’t get away.

“Fuckfuckfuck, Spencer I wa—ah—sn’t ready—oh my god.”

He remembers his fingers deep inside you and begins rutting them and you hiss, inhaling sharply through your teeth before letting it all out in a tremulous moan. The orgasm is building up so quickly it almost feels like an attack on your poor body as you try to process it all to no avail. Every sound you make is a vulnerable mess of pleasure and pain, a clear fear of surrendering to something inevitable. Of course, it doesn’t really hurt at all. As usual, he’s blindsided you. Found you unprepared. You rake your fingers through Spencer’s hair, continuing on with your shaky moans that sound half-worried.

“Oh, please.” Really, you’re just pleading to be put out of your misery. It’s in moments like this, as the black is creeping in around the edges of your vision and your thoughts become threads in the tangle of an existence knotting in on itself with no discernible end or beginning in your mind until everything is completely abstract, that you’re reminded why the French refer to orgasm as the little death.

Your fingers lace tight enough in the wilds of his hair to pull, and he groans against you, and those vibrations are your undoing. You succumb to the dark momentarily but he continues a loving assault of gentle kisses to your clit—careful enough so as to be inoffensive even after the euphoria abates and you’re hypersensitive, still relishing soft strands of hair between your knuckles.

You’re breathing hard as you blink your vision back, looking down at him as he looks up at you from his place between your legs and rubs the top of your thigh.

“I wasn’t ready,” you pant, lips flashing into a tired smile that doesn’t hold a candle to his own livelier one.

“Took it like a champ.”

If you weren’t already so warm his sarcastic comment would inspire more heat in the apples of your cheeks.

“Dr. Spencer Reid using sports idioms?” You smile as he climbs back up your body.

“It’s unreasonably sexy that you said idiom and not simile.” He kisses you, grin mirroring yours, and you don’t complain about the slick still on his lips. “And look at that. Not afraid to kiss me when I taste like you anymore.”

“I remember what you said,” you whisper, eyes bouncing between his, glowing amber pools in the low light. The words echo in your head from the first time he’d gone down on you and you’d been hesitant to taste yourself.

One day, I’ll make you come just like that again, and then I’m going to fuck you, and you’re really going to want me to kiss you then, angel.

“So do I,” he points out needlessly. “Eerily prophetic, hm?”

“I think you just like going down on me,” you laugh.

Without the light on, his smile is just as brilliant as usual.

“You might be right about that.”

Another interlude of quiet begins, but you don’t mind it. Taking this slow, as desperate as you’ve been for it, feels nice. Easy. Waves of burning need ebb and flow, but for now, it feels nice to be bathed in his candlelight gaze, know you’re loved, and nothing else.

“What next?” You whisper after a long moment, lifting your hand to trace the line of his jaw. He leans into it slightly, lips brushing your palm.

“That’s up to you, angel. What’s going to make you feel most comfortable?”

Your bottom lip rolls between your teeth as you think and he tracks the movement, corner of his mouth twitching fondly.

“It might help if you weren’t fully clothed.”

“I think we could probably do something about that.”

He pecks the tip of your nose playfully and then he’s pushing off the bed. Your brow wrinkles as you follow suit only partially, sitting up with your legs folded under you and pulling the sheets over your body to combat the chill and the vulnerability of being completely naked.

“Oh, my god. You had your shoes on that whole time?”

“I got distracted,” Spencer defends, almost tripping over himself in his hurry to slip the loafers off.

You clutch the sheet to your chest, watching the adorable way he pushes his hair out of his face as he rushes. He’s so clearly excited—it shows in the flush of his cheek and his even worse than usual coordination.

“But on my bed?”

“I’m sorry,” he says without seeming very apologetic, leaning down to catch your chin between his thumb and forefinger and pressing his lips to yours. “I’ll pay to have your comforter dry cleaned. I’ll buy you a new one. I don’t care.”

“How chivalrous.”

“I am,” he insists against your lips, shaped by what is surely a boyish smirk.

Unsurprisingly, you get lost in the kiss, dropping the sheet to hang onto his shoulders. Spencer takes advantage of the once-more revealed skin, rubbing your thigh with slow passes in a way that has you all lit up again already. It doesn’t help that his tie is skimming right over the recess between your folded thighs as he leans over your seated form, kissing you deeper as the moments pass.

“You’re distracting me now,” you scold, but your voice is quiet and smiley as your noses brush.

“Do you want to help me with my clothes?”

You nod, heart hatching like a cocoon and already slipping a finger into the knot of his tie so you can tug perhaps not gently enough. He chuckles, bracing himself with his fists on either side of your lap as you pull and yank until the fabric comes loose and you slip it from around his neck, flinging it blindly for dramatic effect. Then he slowly draws back to his full height, until you’re about eye-level with his chest. His gaze fixes on you, feverish and intent as he finds the buckle of his belt without looking. The slide of leather on leather, the jingle of the metal has the hairs on the back of your neck rising and you fight a chill as he pins you with his stare—feeling rather powerless as he towers over you, still essentially fully clothed while you’re completely naked.

You probably shouldn’t be as thrilled by it as you are.

Spencer tosses the belt on the floor and watches on, utterly charmed as you rise to your knees. His hands find your waist, steadying you as you begin unbuttoning his shirt with slow, careful fingers.

“See?” You murmur bashfully. “Helping.”

His voice is equally as soft.

“Very helpful. Thank you.”

The tension in the quiet room gets to be too much and you have to focus hard on the task at hand, failing to bite back a twisty smile. For once, he keeps his stupid perfect mouth shut and lets you push the fabric of his open shirt from his shoulders in humid silence.

Your fingers skate down his torso and you watch the muscles tense. You wonder if he notices the way he pulls you slightly closer or if it’s subconscious as you both track the path of your hands.

“Your button is on the wrong side,” you note, voice wavering slightly, once your fingers stall at the waistband of his pants.

Spencer chuckles. You feel silly.

“Men and women’s clothing tend to have the buttons on different sides, if that’s what you mean.”

“Oh.” A beat of silence, before the words come pouring out. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that. I’m still a little bit nervous, I think.”

“That’s okay,” Spencer assures you, hands gliding up and down the soft lines of your waist. “It’s okay that you’re nervous. But I’m going to take really good care of you, okay?”

You nod, not looking away from the exposed skin of his torso.

“And if at any point you need to take a break or stop, you’ll tell me.”

“I will, but… I don’t need to stop right now.”

“Then you can go as slow as you want.”

You swallow and take a moment to gather yourself before continuing on undoing his pants. With his assistance, you pull them down, and with them his boxers tug an inch or two lower, exposing a subtle v-shape before it disappears beneath the waistband. The fabric is obviously tented. A ball of nervous anticipation spins faster in your stomach, drawing all the heat in your body down between your legs. He’s pretty everywhere. You’d nearly forgotten.

Spencer’s stomach tenses under your light touch as you drag your fingers down, down, just to the waistband. It’s then that you look up at him for permission to continue, and find his eyes already on you, heated and intense.

“Go ahead, honey.”

Again you find yourself quite excited to touch him, but you start cautiously, simply letting your hand fall over the shape of him through the fabric. Even that has his chest rising and falling at a slightly quickened rate, and one of his hands finds your unoccupied one, twining them together. That small gesture inspires you to bolden your explorations, becoming more insistent in the way you palm at him. He feels big, which is a concern of yours. But you try not to let that intimidate you.

Already he’s quite hard, you suspect from going down on you earlier (which is flattering as much as it embarrasses you) and your fingers graze a small wet patch of fabric. You fixate on the shaky little breath he releases as you push down his boxers with new fervor, and his cock springs up.

He’s still perfect.

You smear beads of precum down his tip, and he sighs, letting his head fall against yours as you both watch. A few coquettish pumps and he’s humming, kissing your face and dragging his lips down your neck where he makes a home for himself. Apparently the sight of your hand wrapped around him had been too much to bear.

“So good. Missed this.”

“It’s just my hand,” you whisper, a little insecure that he’s maybe playing it up for your benefit.

“It’s you.”

His voice is so breathy, you sort of have to believe him.

“Can I…?”

Too nervous to voice what you really mean, you trail off, but it apparently doesn’t matter to Spencer. He lifts his head like he’s in a stupor but you’ve said something urgent.

“Anything you want. You can do whatever you want.”

“Okay. Um…”

You let go of his hand (and his dick). Spencer automatically rotates to accommodate you as you end up on your knees on the wooden floor in front of him.

“This is what you want?” He breathes, already pushing his fingers through your hair and gathering it back as you look up at him and nod.

Very quickly you have him back in your hand, trying to remember what you learned from the few times you’ve done this. You start perhaps a bit softer, less eager to prove yourself than you have in the past—simply dragging him over your tongue before enveloping his tip in your mouth, and releasing with a pop. Despite being overtly, explicitly, and undeniably sexual, there’s something almost chaste about the way you handle him. It’s a (dirty) expression of love, and you think he understands that as he rubs at your cheek affectionately.

Eventually, however, you get too excited, and you take him into your mouth in earnest, bobbing your head slowly and seeing how much of him you can take without gagging.

Spencer makes the prettiest noises—they’re breathy, and not ostentatious, but he’s got such a nice speaking voice it’s like his gasps are bars in a song. You whine around him, wriggling your hips in a rather pathetic display, and then all too quickly he’s tugging your hair so you can’t keep him in your mouth.

“What?” You ask, closer to pouting than you’d care to admit and voice slightly hoarse. “You said I could do anything I want.”

“Not if you’re that good at it. Come here.”

He helps you up and catches you in a deep, messy kiss before you’ve fully regained your footing, swaying against him, but he holds you fast, pulling away slow like strings of honey trail between your mouths.

Spencer’s eyes are fixed on yours, lips parted in a sort of wonder before he glances down to your own mouth, wiping the shine from your bottom lip. Any moment you’re expecting him to say something, to tell you you’re beautiful or perfect or that he’s in love with you—but instead he just meets your eyes again, that same wonder-struck look on his pretty face. A tiny, breathy laugh forces itself from his chest like you’re a genuine miracle.

You feel so observed—seen in a way you’ve never been seen, looked at closer than anyone has ever looked at you before. And he still looks at you like you’re the human embodiment of love, the closest mortal manifestation of the divine, Galatea come down from her marble pedestal. The way he looks at you has your heart pounding and your breathing hastened. Adoration has never been something so physical, so tangible, ever before in your life. Your blood hums at the frequency of his electromagnetic field—an energetic aura that surrounds each person and can be detected from several feet away, as he’d explained it to you. It originates from the heart and if you spend enough time close to someone, syncs up the beating of your most vital organ with theirs until it’s a perfect match. Maybe that’s why, almost as quickly as your heart had begun to pound, it slows again, and you feel any reservation flush from your body like a fever.

“Okay,” you breathe, cataloguing every angle and curve of his face to store with all the rest, all the moments that feel important. Of course, you’ll never remember them like he does yours. But you’ll be damned if you don’t try your hardest.

“Okay?” Spencer asks. He understands the confirmation for what it is, and searches for signs of hesitation on your face while rubbing reassuring circles into your hip. You nod resolutely.

As he lays you down on your bed, it feels like you’re entering some kind of altered state. Everything is muted and glowing with a watercolor aura in the dark and you really only care about the man on top of you and the way moonlight dances on his skin and the way he smells like smoky amber and rain. He makes sure the pillows are fluffed under you, before sweeping your hair from beneath your shoulders into a corona around your head. All the while his eyes are so soft on you, just like his hands, and his lips when he leans down to touch them to yours.

One of said hands finds its way to your jaw, trailing down over your neck and collarbone, before settling over your breast where he swipes a thumb over your nipple, lightly, slowly, several times.

Once again you’re struck with the odd feeling, even with his hand on you like this, that the situation isn’t sexual in the way you’d anticipated. It’s not pornographic, or even very dirty. Everything Spencer does, even as his hand sneaks down between your legs, he does because he loves you.

“One more like this,” he mutters against your jaw after a moment.

“Why?”

Your impatience yields a smile you can only feel against your skin.

“Just want you relaxed and feeling good. That’s all.”

When you assent, his fingers are already slowly pushing inside you.

It seems you’ve entered some sort of time warp as well, because you reach a gentle peak in what feels like record time, aided by his easy murmurings and saccharine praise.

“Perfect. That was perfect,” Spencer says with a kiss to your shoulder as he slides his fingers from you and you feel yourself literally dripping onto the sheets. “Can I ask you something before we get carried away?”

“Mhm,” you hum, sweet and compliant as pleasure dulls your inhibitions for the second time tonight and your head lolls into the pillows.

“Baby,” he croons, voice soft as worn paper as your lids flutter and lashes brush febrile cheeks, thumbing over the heated skin. “Need you a little more alert, sweet girl.”

“’M trying,” you whine, though it’s half self-effacing laugh. Spencer chuckles too as you shake your head and take a deep breath, trying to reinvigorate yourself. “Okay. Go.”

“Well… we don’t have any protection.” Before you can groan, loudly, he hurries on. “And that’s… I’m okay with that, if it’s what you still want. I trust you. But there will come… a moment of reckoning. And I need to know where I should… reckon. So you don’t end up surprised.”

Now you’re really laughing—a giggly mess beneath him as your arms loop over his shoulders.

“Stop it,” he whines, pressing his nose to your cheek as you turn your head in an effort to not snort at your boyfriend to his face. “That was for your benefit, you know. You get squeamish.”

“I’m sorry, I just can’t take you seriously when you refer to it as reckoning.”

“Fine. I’ll rephrase. When I come, you essentially have two options. Inside, or on your stomach. Tell me where you want it.”

Your breath catches and your stomach does that tripping-over-itself thing again.

“Um…”

Another fond half laugh, at your expense, is pressed against your skin. It’s enough to prompt you into answering—he doesn’t have to say anything to make his point about your being squeamish.

“Inside,” you mutter, shy as you attempt to bring him closer so he won’t be able to look at you quite so closely. You wonder if he’s remembering the conversation you’d had over the phone last week—before he’d accidentally kind of broken up with you—about this very subject. You certainly are.

“Okay. I want you to have everything that you want.” A few kisses to your neck later, between nips, he speaks again. “Just need to hear that you want this one more time.”

“I want this,” you repeat, obedient and honest, plain and simple. “Now, please.”

Spencer responds by first kissing you, firm and loving. It soothes you, and he punctuates it with a kiss to your cheek, before he’s reaching down and guiding himself between your legs. You feel surprisingly calm, more overcome with love and the light pleasure rolling down your back as he drags himself over your clit than you are by nerves. Still, you pointedly hold his gaze, not looking down in case you psych yourself out. He slots himself in place, tip resting against your entrance.

“Remember, if you need to stop at any point—”

“I remember,” you cut him off hurriedly.

Okay. So perhaps you’re still slightly nervous.

He watches you, sympathetic though you’re not sure what for.

“I need you as relaxed as possible, okay? I want this to be easy on you.”

You take a moment, scanning your whole body for tense muscles. When you feel sufficiently relaxed, you offer Spencer a small nod, and at that, he begins pushing into you ever so slightly.

At first, it just feels foreign. He’s going so slowly, so carefully, you’re not sure he’s moving at all—until he finds resistance and the odd full feeling changes to a hint of burning stretch. Your hips jump and your breath catches, and Spencer stops immediately, relieving the pressure with a tiny shift in position.

“It’s gonna hurt,” you realize, eyes darting between his like he might be able to tell you otherwise. You’d always been aware of the possibility, but you were holding out hope that you’d be one of those people who didn’t experience any pain their first time.

“Just for a minute. Then it’ll feel good, angel.”

You swallow and nod. At the end of the day, you trust him completely. You trust him enough to let him hurt you.

“Super deep breaths for me.”

He watches intently as you follow his directions, taking several deep breaths in succession, before he begins pushing into you once more. The pressure builds and builds until he pushes past that point of resistance, and it’s like he’s breaking you in two.

“Ah,” you gasp, abs twisting as your body tries to escape the sensation without any input from you.

“I know. I know, baby, that was the hardest part. Breathe.”

He drops his thumb to your clit, rubbing circles with light pressure to distract from the pain.

You nod, lips pressed together tight as the deep ache muddles your brain. It’s an insistent pressure against something does not seem to want to budge. It burns and stretches and is laced with sour, flirtatious pleasure so that you can hardly tell what it is you’re feeling. Mostly, you’re dizzy and hot.

“Relax, just like that,” he strains, looking down. “My good girl. We’re almost there, baby.”

Cries spill unbidden from your mouth and your eyes shut as he continues to open you up deeper, until finally, finally, his hips settle into the cradle of yours.

Spencer sighs a curse under his breath, so quiet you don’t think it was meant for you.

He’s inside of you. It’s bizarre.

You whimper, and he snaps out of whatever revery he’d been in.

“You okay? How does that feel?”

You take a shuddering breath, closing your eyes and trying to clear your head to no avail—your thoughts are like TV static.

“I’m good. I need… I need a minute.”

“You can have as much time as you need. It’s a lot, huh?”

“Yeah,” you admit, voice small and weak.

“I bet,” he agrees, peppering soft kisses all over your face. “But you’re doing so well. Proud of you, brave girl. You’re doing so well and we’re gonna make sure it feels good soon, okay? Whenever you’re ready.”

“Will you please kiss me again?” you whisper, and Spencer’s brow knits with concern.

“Of course, angel. Of course I’ll kiss you,” he says, and makes good on his promise with his lips on yours. It sweetens the ache. “I’ll do whatever you want. You can have anything. You’re so perfect.”

He kisses you again, just as lovingly, and soft, like you’re delicate. All the praise is only contributing to your lightheadedness, but you don’t mind at all. It feels good.

“You can… you can move.”

“Okay. We’ll go really slow, yeah?”

He waits for your nod before his hips are pulling back and you arch at the odd sensation. When he pushes back in, eyes carefully locked on yours the whole time, you keen slightly, frowning and brain shorting out as it tries and fails to process this new feeling.

“Uh-huh. You’re okay, I promise.”

At first it doesn’t feel good. It mostly hurts. But slowly, the pain begins to abate as you acclimate to having him inside of you, and he’s careful the whole time.

“Spence?”

“Hm?”

He sounds concentrated on the task at hand—you’re entranced by the sight of him above you, the parted lips, the unkempt hair over the brow furrowed in pleasure and focus. But he’s never too busy for you.

“Does it… um—” you pause to hold back a whine—“what does it feel like for you?”

At this, he slows even further and chuckles—it’s a strained, slightly breathy sound.

“For me?”

“Mhm.”

“You feel perfect, baby. You feel so fucking good.”

The slight fry in Spencer’s voice as he curses, which is a rare event in and of itself, flips your stomach, turns you on immensely. The idea that you’re giving him pleasure too—it’s almost overwhelming. That’s when it starts feeling good.

“Oh—” you squeak, jaw dropping and bucking your hips inadvertently as the first bolt of true pleasure shocks deep in your core. He hums.

“Yeah, is that it, sweet girl?”

But you can’t answer for a long moment. Your brain is melting as your legs lock around him.

“Mm—it’s—it feels…”

“I know it does,” Spencer murmurs.

You whine and press your face into the curve of his shoulder as each thrust gently rocks your body. As the pace picks up bit by bit, you feel yourself clenching hard around him. His hips stutter and he hisses.

“Ah. Can’t do that, lovely.”

“What? Did I hurt you?”

He laughs breathily.

“No, you didn’t hurt me. You almost pushed me out. You have to relax.”

“Sorry,” you whisper. “’M trying.”

“You don’t need to be sorry. I know you’re trying, baby, you’re being so good for me.”

Your nails skim his back—a small expression of a much larger desperation. Once he’s sure you’re relaxed around him, begins going faster.

Your gasps and soft moans come more often now as he finds a steady rhythm and it feels so different when he’s actually fucking you. It feels like he’s everywhere. Every time your hips meet you feel the sweet shock of it in your teeth, your toes, the back of your neck. In the best way, you feel consumed by him. It’s not at all like you’d imagined, and it’s perfect.

“Wait, Spencer,” you breathe, struggling to form the words. Immediately he stops again, lifting his head from your shoulder to examine your face.

“What is it?”

He sounds just as wrecked as you feel, panting and strained and it feels good to hear.

“I wanna watch.”

For a moment his eyes dart between yours like he’s trying to determine what you really mean—but you said exactly what you meant. Then he laughs, a huff of air from his nose as he presses his head to yours and gives you a quick kiss.

Your toes curl as he readjusts his position, holding himself a little higher and resting your heads together so you can both look between your bodies.

“There,” he murmurs as he slowly begins to withdraw again. “Like that?”

But you can’t answer, because you’re too busy whimpering at the sight of him pushing into you. The feeling seems to increase tenfold as you watch it happen. Distantly you wonder how the fuck it fits.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Like that.”

Spencer takes this as a blessing to find a pace again, slower now as he seems to be just as enthralled by the sight as you are.

“Give me your leg,” he rasps after a few moments like that, and you don’t know what he means exactly but you lift your right leg slightly only for him to press his hand to the back of your knee and push toward your chest, effectively opening you up and giving him more range of motion. It also enables him to fuck you even deeper. Again he slows, apparently savoring the feel of you yielding around him all the way down to the hilt.

Black spots dance in your eyes as he settles at your deepest point—not pain, necessarily, just overwhelming sensation. Your jaw drops and you choke out a moan as he presses into recesses you didn’t know you had, as he shows you a part that you might have gone the rest of your life without knowing existed. He stops there, like that. Everything stops there, like that. If the cars on the road below ceased to drive, if the airplanes froze in the sky, you’d not be the least bit surprised. Somehow, you’ve unlocked a small eternity. There’s no sound but your joint heavy breathing and your heart pounding in your ears. The words just come bubbling up out of you in a little whine.

“I love you.”

Spencer’s breath pauses for a moment before he’s letting it all out at once, brushing his lips up the ridge of your nose before they settle on your forehead in what seems like a permanent kiss. A few breaths in, you allow your eyes to flutter shut. Your heart rate slows down a touch, and you settle into the moment, never having been quite so content as you are like this—never having felt quite so adored and safe.

“I love you,” he finally echoes, voice rasping, lips still pressed to your skin, still breathing against your hair. When he starts to move again, drawing back ever so slowly, you hiss softly. He raises his head from yours, and you look away from where he’s pulling out, meeting his eyes just in time for him to push back in, just as deep. They shine in the mostly-dark room and you moan unabashedly. It’s a high-pitched, sweet thing, nothing that will have the neighbors complaining—but so clearly true, from the depths of your soul, an expression of everything you’re feeling—not just the pleasure.

Although that’s good, too, as Spencer shapes you to him again and again, the head of his cock kissing places nobody’s ever been and places you hope nobody else will ever venture to. This is all you need. Him.

“Jesus,” Spencer groans, eyes fixed on your face as he fucks you slowly. But you can’t bring yourself to talk, too new to this kind of pleasure to find it anything other than mind-boggling and world altering. Your lips are still parted, allowing each sound to pass without filter. “Listen to you, beautiful.”

When he stops again, just to look down and marvel at you, you’re conflicted. On the one hand, you can taste the pleasure on the back of your tongue and he keeps taking it away when it’s so close. But on the other—you’re just as overwhelmed as he said you’d be. Your body has never had to process this kind of sensory information before, and you’re exhausted, but it’s so good.

“Spencer,” you manage. He looks up, pupils blown and eyes lidded where they’d normally be wide. “Please don’t stop.”

He swallows, spurred into action again as soon as you say it.

“Good?”

You nod and whine again as he picks up the pace bit by bit, remembering to push your leg back once more so he can get as deep as you need him.

“So good,” you exhale at the top pitch of your voice. Your brows pinch and you release a fuller moan as Spencer finds a speed that’s fast enough to constantly feel good no matter where he is. You’re gasping for breath, back arching—and he finds a new angle, catching against the spot inside you that renders all those years of human evolution that gave you sentience and intelligence a waste. He chuckles airily at your series of series of affronted moans and halted gasps.

“Right there? That's a good spot, isn’t it?”

“Oh, go—fuck, fuck!”

It feels so good it almost hurts, and your eyes are stinging to prove it. Your legs clamp tighter around him and you realize there’s a very lewd wet sound and you can’t believe that’s you.

“Spencer, you’re—oh my god, I love you,” you whine, and it sounds like you’re pleading for your life. At this makes his own sound of pleasure, and hastens his messy circles on your clit as if in reward.

But it’s too much all combined.

Your hand claps to your mouth to obscure the loud, licentious moan that comes out—but Spencer immediately moves his hand from between your legs to grab your wrist and pin it gently to the bed, intertwining your fingers.

“Don’t do that. Let me hear.”

You nod, and he lets go of your hand to return his fingers to your clit. If possible you get wetter around his cock—you can feel yourself gushing.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you whine as if pained.

“Yeah? Gonna finally let me feel you cumming, angel?”

He has a filthy mouth when he wants to. The words hit like high voltage to your core and the very pit of your stomach. You can’t even respond beyond a desperate sob.

“Show me, baby. I’m right here. Let go.”

You cum around his cock with a broken cry and it’s like a purge of every drop of angst you’d felt over the past week or so—hell, it’s a purge of all the insecurities that had bubbled to the surface since you started dating him. None of it matters anymore. How could it matter when you have him? When you have this?

The orgasm washes you out like a tidal wave, taking everything with it. It’s strong, and it’s so good, so intense, your body is overwrought with sensation and it’s too much even though it’s perfect. Your brain is drawing a blank as it tries to react to the feeling, and it’s like every button on the damn panel has been hit.

“Fuck, I’m close,” Spencer grits, and you feel it in the way he adjusts his position, shifting as he grips at the edge of the mattress for leverage and the thrusts become messier, needier. You gasp as his other hand tangles in your hair, turning your head to ghost your lips over his forearm. It’s not entirely surprising when his own lips find your shoulder—but the feeling of him finding his release just as his teeth sink into your skin does come as quite a shock. It doesn’t hurt, and you’re sure there’s no skin broken, but it’s an undeniable fact that he has grounded himself in the throes of passion by biting down on you.

Inside you, he feels hot. Searing, almost, as his spend tries to fill space that doesn’t exist. There is absolutely no room for anything else inside of you. Stars dance in your eyes at the overstimulation, but long after he’s finished he’s still fucking into you—albeit much slower and with far less technique. Spencer moans like a two bit whore, like he’s reached pain to a point of ecstasy, and to you it’s as good, as special as the singing of the planets. If he’s as sensitive as you are now, it’s no small feat for him to keep going on like this. It’s a testament to how much he doesn’t want it to be over. The pleasure is carrying him away, but you’re beginning to feel how soft you must be and how if he continues on like this you may bruise like an overripe peach.

“Spencer,” you manage, skating your hand up and down his back in what you hope are soothing lines. “Baby.”

He whines as his lips detach from your shoulder, but his hips finally slow to a stop, nestled inside you.

“Jesus, fuck, I'm sorry,” he breathes, opting now to bury his face in your neck (with significantly less biting this time).

You’re still reeling, toes still curled, still struggling to breathe as your head spins and spins and spins. His chest pushes against yours with every heaving breath, hot and heavy on your skin, and that’s the only sign he’s still alive until his hand eventually reanimates in your hair, scratching your head tenderly.

For a span of minutes, you stay like that—silent, twined together like caducean serpents. His weight on top of you is perfect. This, the lack of differentiation between your body and his, is perfect. You don’t know where he ends and you begin and you don’t need to. It’s a blissful moment.

“Hey.”

Spencer’s voice is hoarse when he finally speaks, lifting his head to look at you with flushed cheeks and messy hair and sparkly eyes.

“Hi.”

He smiles.

“You’re so pretty.”

“You too,” you murmur, moving your hand from his back and pressing your thumb into the hollow of his cheek. His eyes map the curves of your face as he pushes your surely askew hair back.

“How do you feel?”

It takes you a moment to seriously consider his question, scanning your body for any undue pains, but for the moment, you find none, beyond a dull aching throb that you can manage.

“Good. Tired.”

You wince at the uncomfortable feeling of him pulling out. Spencer hums sympathetically and presses a sticky kiss to your lips which makes it a little better, though you can’t ignore how uncomfortable all the previously pleasant wetness has become between your legs.

“Here—stay here, I’ll get a wash cloth and—”

“It’s fine,” you insist, holding on even as he tries to roll off of you. “I just need… will you stay here for a little bit?”

“Of course,” he promises, now pressed close to your side and propped up on an elbow, “whatever you want.”

You lavish in his gaze, warm like a spotlight, as he strokes your cheek and plays with your hair. Very quickly you’re lulled into a doze, eyes fluttering shut. Minutes stretch. You feel drunk on waking dreams, and perfectly at peace. Safe.

“Angel girl,” he christens you fondly. More than anything, it’s an observation, so lovely it sinks into your skin like a balm, soothing every tired muscle and little mark he’d made. Even half-asleep, it makes you smile.

“You’re an angel,” you slur, reaching blindly for him, and he chuckles, catching your wrist and helpfully settling your hand on his cheek.

“I thought you were asleep.”

You hum, “mm-mm,” looking up at him with just as much adoration as he has for you. Those cuddle hormones must be kicking in because soon you’re attempting to pull him back on top of you. He doesn’t quite comply, probably for fear of crushing you—rather he settles next to you, gathering you in his arms.

Silence blankets the two of you, but it’s not unpleasant as you just watch each other with barely-there smiles curling your mouths. This kind of intimacy still manages to give you butterflies, even after everything else you’ve done. This kind of satisfaction, reverie in the sound of each other’s blood flowing and lungs filling. Setting aside words because you don’t need conversation as a pretense for wanting to be around each other anymore. You don’t need an excuse to look at him like this. You don’t need words any more than you need clothes. It’s enough to just be.

“I love you,” he says, a soft reminder, and entirely redundant with the way he’d already been looking at you, touching you.

“I know. I love you too.”

The smile flickers brighter on his face.

“And thank you.”

Your eyes narrow minutely as you consider what he could possibly be thanking you for.

“For what?”

“For loving me. And trusting me. It’s…” your heart squeezes as you realizes tears are pooling in his eyes. He takes a moment and clears his throat. It’s incredibly endearing. “It means a lot to me. You mean a lot to me.”

You look down, thumbing at the sheets where you’ve hoisted them over your bodies.

“You do realize how lame we are if we have sex and both immediately start crying, right?”

At this he laughs loudly but not loud enough to pop the little bubble you’re in, and you look up just in time to catch the brilliance of his smile, the way it changes his whole face and he becomes superhuman in his beauty, the lines that form by his eyes and the way they narrow and crystalline tears bead his lashes like precious gems.

“Don’t cry,” he requests gently, hypocritically as your own eyes sting. The way his smile fades is like the sun setting. Gorgeous, like everything else he does. “You’ve cried so much, honey. Please don’t cry.”

You sniffle, gathering yourself.

“I’m not. That would be pathetic.”

Spender leans forward to kiss you tenderly a few more times. Ordinarily you’d worry about coming across as clingy when you hold onto him so closely and so insistently like this, but for now you don’t care. Neither does he, it seems, as he seems unable to get you close enough. Eventually, you end up curled against him, head tucked under his chin and dozing on and off as he traces shapes into your skin.

“What are you writing?” You mumble some time later, cheek smushed against his shoulder. He only responds with a soft hm, like he was lost deep in thought. You clarify, “it feels like you were writing something.”

“She Walks in Beauty.”

Your lips pull into a sleepy smile.

“The Lord Byron poem?”

The first time you’d met Spencer, he’d inadvertently caused your painstakingly annotated copy of Lord Byron’s works to go flying all over a cafe, and then kindly helped clean up the pages and reorder them for you in record time. Among the poems had been She Walks in Beauty.

“Yeah. I was trying to figure out when exactly I fell in love with you, and as someone who is deeply skeptical about love at first sight, I’m a little embarrassed to admit that I keep coming back to our first conversation. I mean, I believe in genetic compatibility, and how that contributes to attraction and what we think of as chemistry, but—”

“Wait, what about our first conversation did it?” Your cheeks ache from smiling as you speak. “As I recall I was being a bitch and I was covered in coffee.”

He laughs dreamily, still tracing letters over the small of your back. You wonder what part of the poem he’s at now.

“Yeah, mean to me and covered in coffee is pretty much exactly my type. But I think it was actually the annotations on that copy of Lord Byron’s works. They were so insightful, and personal, I—it kind of took my breath away, and I know I shouldn’t have read them all but I couldn’t stop. You were compelling, and charming, and funny and wildly intelligent and beautiful and… and I didn’t stand a chance.”

Everything aches. It’s a good ache. Despite being seconds from tearing up all over again, you snort. He never told you about that first day.

“You thought me writing ‘sister fucker’ in all caps every time he mentioned Augusta was charming?”

“Oh, obscenely so. But now that I’m looking back, I feel like… I feel like I can’t remember not being in love with you. I mean, I remember when I realized I was, and that was later. But it was like I met you, and then I was just… waiting for you to catch up.”

You grab his hand and interlace your fingers, watching the way the ambient nighttime light from the window and the bathroom dips them half in color.

“We were pretty much on the same page. I was debating courthouse versus small intimate ceremony as soon as you left.”

You watch him watching your joined hands, features soft and relaxed, fiddling with your fingers absentmindedly as he speaks.

“Definitely small intimate ceremony. I have too many friends who would kill me if they weren’t invited to the wedding.”

You giggle and pretend the thought doesn’t give you butterflies. You imagine a ring on your finger, the one he’s got between his own. Marriage had never been something you’d considered. Not when you had no reason to. It seemed like something for other people. But maybe one day, it will be for you, too.

“Did you know Lord Byron had a daughter who is regarded by many as the first computer programmer? She wrote the first algorithm for a theoretical machine that was so complex it couldn’t be built with the technology available at the time. It was called an Analytical Engine.”

He sounds almost wistful as he gives you the utterly unprompted, but still welcome, abridged version of her life. The description is ringing a bell—but you can’t quite place her, sleepy as you are.

“What was her name?”

“Ada Lovelace. She was exceptionally gifted. The odds of parent and child being so extraordinary in their respective fields are incalculable, but from a purely theoretical perspective, negligible. I mean, they’re both massive historical figureheads. That’s extremely uncommon.”

You adore it when he goes off on these tangents—the passion that stains his voice, the ardor that grips him until he has no choice but to tell you exactly what’s got him so excited. You could listen to him talk for hours. It means he’s here with you, and he wants you to love what he loves.

Since he met you, that’s all Spencer has wanted—for you to love what he loves.

You want the same.

“Pretty name,” you murmur, eyes fluttering shut. “Tell me more.”

part eight

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic

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dawngyu · 5 months ago

Text

THE SCIENTIST

pairing: popular hueningkai x deaf fem!reader

summary: Kai, who thrived in sound. Loud noise, vibrant conversations, the hum of life. And the quiet girl that sits prettily by the window—had begun to haunt his mind—stirring his heart the way only music ever had.

There must be some scientific explanation for this... right?

warnings: deaf reader, set in 1995 timeline, verbal!abuse, physical!abuse, family-trauma, ableism!(hate this word so much). side character!death, purely work of fiction. subtle implications of survivor guilt, high-school setting but everyone is 18 and above. everything written here is not a description of any idols. characters like chae-won, yun-jin etc are used. if any of the warnings above might be triggering for you, please proceed with caution if you decided to read. (let me know if i missed anything.)

smutwarnings: explicit!smut, pull-out method(pls don't),fingering!, missionary!, virginity!loss. MDNI.

wc: 21k

notes: inspired by twinkling watermelon. while I’ve done some research to better understand what it’s like to be deaf, there may still be inaccuracies. I did my best to approach the subject with care and respect. love knows no boundaries, hence I wrote this piece. a big thank you to my beta reader.

You were born with the inability to hear anything.

The world is nothing but a muted place for you. You never heard the birds singing at dawn, the hum of a bustling street, or the warmth in your parents’ voices—even your own. The sun might be painting the sky with its warm hues, but for you, it was just another day of deafening silence.

And then there was that one particular day.

You didn’t hear the crash, the scream of tyres, or the shattering glass. You didn’t hear your mother's voice, soft and trembling, as she held you close. Eyes brimming with tears, searching yours, face pale and streaked with blood.

You tried—desperately—to focus, to read the words forming on her lips. But your head spun, the world blurred, and all you could feel was her cold hands cradling your face. How can you? When you couldn't even hear your own pained whimpers from the glass that cut your skin. Strangers pulled you. They carried you away—away from her, away from her forever.

You’ve convinced yourself it must be punishment—a cruel reckoning from a life before this one.

Why else would your hearing be taken from you? Why else would the universe strip away the one person who truly saw you, who tried to understand you, even in your silence? What crime could have been so unforgivable that it warranted a lifetime of loss?

You stabbed at the food on your plate, pushing it around without taking a bite. Your stomach churned—not from hunger but from being trapped here. The room was filled with people who called themselves your family. Family—nothing more than a coincidence of living in the same house.

A sharp kick to your foot snapped you out of your thoughts. Your eyes met hers—your stepmother. Her perfectly practised smile didn’t reach her cold, calculating eyes.

She had arrived after the accident, ten years ago, when you were just eight. Back then, she was a tutor, brought in to give your father hope—a cruel, empty hope that you could still learn to speak. She had played her role well, and now she sat at the head of this table, the head of this house, ruling with her own. Her daughters—your stepsisters—sat on either side of her, mirroring her expressions, their eyes flickering toward you.

“Is the food not to your liking?” she asked—you read her lips, something you had to do out of necessity. Her stare burned into you.

You knew that look too well. Behave. Know your place.

And, as always, your father sat there, oblivious. His eyes never caught the disdain in hers, never lingered long enough to notice the cracks in the perfect picture she painted. Soon, he'll be back overseas for another business trip.

"Y/N?"

You hesitated, lifting your hand to sign, then you caught her eye—a sharp, pointed look. Your hand faltered, dropping back to your side.

Instead, you let out a hum. It wasn’t much, just a sound—a vibration you couldn’t hear but felt in your throat. She tilted her head slightly, giving a satisfied nod.

Your father pushed back his chair, standing with the same distracted air he always had. He walked over to you, placing a hand on your head, a gesture so routine it barely meant anything anymore. I’m going now. That was what it always meant.

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead briefly, before straightening up. His secretary hovered near the door. You watched his back as he walked out, leaving you staring from the table.

The day your mother left you, you lost... him too.

Seeing the doors close, you rose from your seat, but your stepmother was quicker, blocking your path. She loomed, her face a mask of forced patience. "Do I need to remind you again?" she said, "I said speak. No hand signs or whatever that is. That is not allowed here on this house. Do you want me to get mad at you again?"

Her glare felt like a physical force, pinning you to the spot. Unable to meet her eyes, you nodded weakly, looking at the floor. But she wasn’t done. She stepped closer, grabbing your shoulders in a firm, punishing grip. Her fingers dug into your skin as she shook you, her frustration spilling over.

Everyone watched. They just.. watched. The maids stood frozen in the corner, their expressions carefully blank, devoid of any emotion, too scared to intervene. Your stepsisters whispered to each other, their mocking smiles only adding to the humiliation.

You nodded again, your only escape was to comply. A soft hum escaped your lips, the sound she always, always insisted on, a token of submission that seemed to satisfy her. Her hands drop from your shoulders. The moment her grip released, you ran. Up the stairs, down the hall, into the only place that felt remotely yours—your room.

Once inside, you collapsed at your desk, leaning forward until your forehead pressed against the hard surface. The tears came quickly, spilling from your eyes as sobs racked your chest. They said crying was supposed to help, to lighten the burden somehow. But for you, it only made the weight heavier. You couldn’t even hear yourself cry. The silence made your pain feel endless.

In your despair, your arm knocked into something on the desk. You looked up in alarm, your heart skipping as you saw the mess. Paints, scattered and spilling, teetered dangerously close to the last drawing you had finished the night before.

Frantically, you reached out, your hands moving quickly to fix it. The thought of losing that small piece—felt unbearable. You righted the paints and saved the smudged edges of the paper, tears blurred your vision as you looked at the sketch.

A boy, in your uniform, with bangs that fell over his eyes and the back of his hair just shy of touching his collar, stood smiling softly. In his hands, he held a guitar, fingers resting gently on the strings.

Huening Kai has so much to be delighted for—his mom, his dad, his sweet sisters—but if he’s being frank, what he’s most thankful for is the day he picked up a guitar and found his love for it.

Music has been his refuge during both the small, frustrating setbacks—like failing a math test he poured hours into studying for or losing a manga he cherished so much and never finding it again—and the moments that cut far deeper.

It was there when his parents decided to end their marriage, leaving him struggling at first—to make sense of a family that no longer looked the same. It was there when Lea packed her things and left for college, that he felt the ache of her absence in a much quieter house. It was there when two of his bandmates graduated, their spots in the group left empty, a reminder of how quickly life can change.

Through music, he met people who became his closest friends, his second family—people he couldn’t imagine living without.

It all comes back to one truth: music doesn’t betray you. It’s always there, no matter what. It’s honest, a constant in a world that often feels anything but. It’s there when you need it most, wrapping you in its arms like an old friend who doesn’t need words to understand—even when you can’t find them yourself.

“Huening Kai!” a high-pitched voice calls out. He feels the soft thud of pillows hitting him and a sharp slap against the back of his thigh. Seriously? He had just fallen asleep.

“I’m going to eat all your food if you don’t get up,” the voice threatens. That gets his attention. Groaning, he blinks his eyes open, adjusting to the dim light of his room. Familiar sight of used guitars propped against the wall, the gleam of trophies, and the dark violet hue that wraps around the room.

He blinks. Oh. It’s his sister, Hiyyih.

Hiyyih stands there, a plate in one hand, an annoyed look plastered across her face. Kai can tell she’s been sent by their mom to rouse him, probably against her will. She takes a deliberate bite of scrambled eggs, her eyes narrowing as she gives him a pointed look before turning to leave.

Kai chuckles softly, shaking his head as he rubs his eyes. He stretches, muscles still heavy, and a frown tugs at his lips. Today is the first day of his last year in high school. The final chapter. Soobin and Yeonjun won’t be there anymore. He sighs, swinging his leg off the bed.

He runs a hand to his tousled hair, grabs a hoodie from the back of his chair and pulls it over his head. He heads towards the chatter—smell of eggs, bacon and pancakes makes his stomach growl.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," His mom greets him with a smile. His frame now towering over the kitchen shelves. He catches her watching him, a soft look in her eyes, and it makes him smile back.

"Morning," Kai mumbles, sits down at the table, reaching for a slice of toast.

Hiyyih watches him,"I thought I was going to have to eat all your food," she teases.

Kai rolls his eyes but grins. "You wish."

"Big day, huh? Last first day of school."

"Yeah. It feels… weird. Soobin and Yeonjun aren’t going to be there. Has Lea called yet?"

"She did. She's doing great so far, being a college girl." his mom answers, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure you'll make even greater memories this year."

Kai smiles, appreciating her words. "Thanks, Mom."

Breakfast was filled with small talk, morning routines wrapping around them. Hiyyih busied herself packing her lunch, their mom helping her with a few finishing touches. Being just a year below Kai, their schedules almost mirrored each other, so they will go to school together.

"Kai, want me to sneak some of these into your lunch?" Hiyyih asked, voice dripping with exaggerated sweetness. He glanced over to see her holding up rice balls shaped like hearts and little animals, clearly proud of her handiwork.

"No, thank you," Kai replied, his tone flat but amused.

"Killjoy," she muttered, giving him a mock glare before returning to her task. He watches as she carefully places a tiny heart-shaped piece of seaweed to form a cat's nose. Something he did not understand.

Why go through all that effort?

The three of them make their way to their mom’s old car, a little worn but still reliable. Kai slips into the passenger seat, and Hiyyih climbs into the back, fussing with her hair even though she just brushed it a minute ago.

“Why don’t you let me drive?” Kai asks as the car starts rolling through the neighborhood. “That way you don’t have to keep going back and forth from school to home.”

His mom glances at him, a smile tugging at her lips. “Son, just because you turned 18 last summer doesn’t mean I’m handing over the keys. Besides,” she adds warmly, “I want to do this for you and Hiyyih.”

Kai leans back in his seat, nodding. She’s right. And anyway, it’s not like they head home together after school. His afternoons are spent in the band room while Hiyyih flits between her own plans, always busy with something or some girlfriends.

The car rolls up to the massive school grounds, Kai glances out the window. The sight of students milling around, the towering building ahead—it’s the same as always. He exhales and starts gathering his things.

He steps out, the crisp air latch on his face. With a quick ruffle of his hair, he pushes his longer bangs away from his eyes, though they fall back almost immediately. The strands at the back have grown out too, brushing the collar of his jacket. Slinging his backpack over his right shoulder and his guitar case over his left, he adjusts the weight and sets off toward the main building. Black—headphones rest around his neck.

He’s barely made it a few steps before he feels it—the stares. The whispers.

“Isn’t he one of the handsome seniors?” “The main guitarist of TXT.” — “He’s so tall. And cute.”

Kai shrugs it off, keeping his focus ahead. He’s used to it. Beside him, Hiyyih is already swept up by one of her friends, her laughter fading into the background after she’s pulled in another direction. His feet carried him down the well-worn hallway, a path he didn’t even have to think about. He could probably make the walk blindfolded. The band room.

When he reached the door, he grasped the doorknob and paused, a small smirk tugging at his lips as the low, bassline thrummed from inside. Peeking inside, the sight was just as he expected—home.

“Yo! Huening Kai!” Beomgyu’s voice rang out, bright and animated, as he set his bass down. His grin widened as he crossed the room in a few quick steps, pulling Kai into a hug before he could dodge. “How was your summer?”

Kai let out a soft laugh, prying Beomgyu’s arms off him. “It was fine. I went shopping with Taehyun a couple of times,” he said, making his way toward his guitar shelf. “Watch it.” he added, shooting Beomgyu a look as the other trailed dangerously close behind.

Beomgyu’s eyes landed on the guitar case Kai was carrying, and his grin turned sly. “What’s this? A new baby?”

“Yeah,” Kai replied, carefully unzipping the case and pulling the guitar out as if it were a fragile treasure. “Dad brought it back from abroad.”

Beomgyu snickered, reaching out to pinch Kai’s cheek. “You’re absolutely smitten, aren’t you?”

“Would you stop?” Kai swatted his hand away, but there was no hiding the small, proud smile tugging at his lips.

Before Beomgyu could tease him further, the door swung open again. Taehyun stepped inside, clipboard in hand, expression calm and no-nonsense as usual. “The new auditionees are here,” he announced, motioning to the two figures who followed him in.

“This is Heeseung,” Taehyun said, gesturing to the taller one. “He’s here to audition for piano. And Jay—he’s trying out for drums.”

Kai glanced at the newcomers, giving them a polite nod as Beomgyu rubbed his hands together, mischievous grin returning. "Alright," Beomgyu said, "let’s see what they’ve got."

The next hour flew by with skills checks, and it didn’t take long for them to see that Heeseung and Jay were solid. They were skilled, sharp, and seemed to fit right into the gaps left by Soobin and Yeonjun. It felt like they could pick up the left space and carry it forward without missing a beat.

Afterwards, Taehyun waved them off, heading to his next class, while Kai and Beomgyu walked in the opposite direction. They shared the same class, while Taehyun, ever the academic overachiever, headed to the advanced one.

“Only the brainiacs go there,” Beomgyu says, nudging Kai with his elbow.

Kai shook his head. Taehyun’s class was famous for being perfectly orderly—a stark contrast to theirs, which was noisy and chaotic on a good day. Their room always felt like the epicentre of the school’s commotion, every day.

The rest of the hours passed in a blur of introductions and meetings with their new advisors. And, of course, Kai’s least favourite math teacher made his return, every bit as strict as before.

Kai slouched in his chair, barely stifling a groan as the teacher droned on about equations and formulas. His mind drifted—Why do he even need this? Is he going to calculate the quadratic formula to buy chips at the grocery store? No.

He glanced down at his hands, the faint calluses on his fingertips from hours of guitar practice catching his eye. He’d much rather spend his time until his hands were sore than trying to decipher problems that made no sense to him.

Beomgyu leaned over, “I think your brain just checked out.”

Kai grinned, giving him a light shove. “Math checked me out first.”

The two of them exchanged quiet laughter, abruptly stopping when the teacher eyed them down.

By the time the last class wrapped up at 4 p.m., Kai found himself right back where he’d started his day: the band room. He and his four bandmates were deep into their after-school practice, bestowed in instruments, time slipped by unnoticed.

“Shoot,” Jay muttered, his gaze snapping to the wall clock. 7:30 p.m. Thirty minutes past the curfew for club rooms.

The realization hit them all at once. If the guards caught them here, it would mean one thing: detention.

“Pack up. Now,” Taehyun said, already slinging his bag over his shoulder. The others scrambled to gather their own gear.

Everyone slipped out into the dark, quiet halls, trying to move as silently as possible. The sound of their footsteps seemed louder.

“Hey! Who’s there?” A booming voice cut through, and suddenly, ta flash of light caught them mid-step.

“Go!” someone hissed, and chaos erupted. The guard started running toward them, and they bolted in every direction. Beomgyu let out a panicked squeal as he sprinted with his bass case clutched in one hand.

Kai didn’t have time to think—he just ran, heart pounded as his legs carried him blindly through the halls. He rounded a corner, only to see another guard up ahead. The group split, scattering.

He can’t get detention on the first day. His lungs burned as he pushed himself further. He kept running, not even sure where he was going, until his body… gave out.

Panting, he slumped near the wall, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. He glanced over his shoulder and froze. A flashlight beam swept the hallway behind him. His pulse quickened as he realized he was at a dead end.

Frantically, his eyes darted around, then saw a room ahead. Kai’s brow furrowed at the sight of the mop propped against the door handle, clearly used as a makeshift way to keep it shut. Weird.

He hurried over, carefully removing the mop, and slipped inside. The room was pitch dark, save for the faint glow of light spilling in from the high windows. It cast eerie shadows on the walls, but he didn’t care. He just needed to hide.

Kai tried flipping the light switch, but nothing happened. Figures, he thought bitterly. He shut the door as quietly as he could, pressing his back against it to steady his breathing.

“Anyone there?” The sound of footsteps echoed outside. The guard’s flashlight swept across the small window in the door, and Kai instinctively slid to the floor, curling himself. He crawled, akwardly, backwards, toward the corner at the far end of the room, hoping to make himself as invisible as possible.

But something bumped against his foot. He whipped his head around, his breath catching in his throat. Sitting in the corner was someone else.

You.

Your legs were drawn up to your chest, wide eyes staring right back at him.

“Shi—” Kai started to curse but stopped himself, clapping a hand over his mouth—heart hammered in his chest, not sure if it was your unexpected presence in the room that caused it—or the way your wide, startled eyes locked onto his in this small space.

Chae-won, like you, is in her final year of high school, while Yun-jin is a year below. Your stepsisters.

When they first moved in, your twelve-year-old self had hoped you could be... friends. You had imagined shared secrets, laughter, and maybe even sisterly bonds. But the moment your father’s attention shifted elsewhere, it was clear that your stepmother’s whispers had already planted seeds of resentment in their hearts.

You couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it started. When did it all go wrong? Was it because you were the only biological daughter in the house? Because your father, despite his best intentions, never really connected with them either? Or was it simply because you couldn’t speak?

The inability to communicate fully, to bridge the gap between your world and theirs, seemed to widen the chasm. You often wondered if things would have been different if you could—if words could have built a room where silence had only erected walls.

After years of trying, of reaching out and being met with cold indifference or outright hostility, you gave up. You stopped hoping for understanding, stopped yearning for a connection that seemed impossible. The effort of trying to be part of their society when they wanted nothing to do with yours had only broken your heart.

"Watch where you're going, fucking weirdo," Chae-won sneers, her foot juts out, sending you stumbling. The water bucket you were carrying—filled with the murky grey water of used paintbrushes—tips forward, dousing your chest. You don’t hear the laughter, but you can feel it, buzzing around you in the painting room.

You look up, your gaze darts to Yun-jin. She leans against the counter, arms crossed, her painted red lips curved into a smug smirk. She raises an eyebrow, as if daring you to do something about it.

You’re in your school's art room, surrounded by the faint smell of turpentine and dried paint. Art has always been your peace. But your love for it didn’t go unnoticed by your stepmother.

It wasn’t long before she pushed her daughters into it too. You’re not sure if it was to force some kind of twisted togetherness between you, or if it was her way of ensuring they would always outshine you, in everything—even this.

You push yourself up, your clothes clinging to your body, damp. Your eyes narrow as you stare at Chae-won. You want to tell her off, to demand an apology, to ask why she does this—

"Cat got your tongue?" she taunts, her lips curl into a cruel grin. "Oh, wait. You can’t speak. Poor girl. That’s what you get for being such an attention seeker."

Your breath hitches as your brows knit in fury. You can’t reply with words, but actions—actions—will do just fine.

As she turns to leave, you grab her hair, yanking it back with all the frustration and hurt bottled up. She shrieks, spinning around to claw at you, and soon you’re both tangled in a fierce struggle.

The others jump in.

Someone grabs your arm, wrenching it back. Another slaps you hard across the face, the sting reverberating through your skull. A foot connects with your leg, sending you buckling. You hit the ground again, tasting blood on your lips as they shove you down.

Your things are heartlessly thrown at you—your bag, your books, your sketchpad—hitting you like stones. Footsteps retreating, laughter echoing in their faces. They close the door before you can even blink.

You force yourself to your feet, every movement a struggle against the ache in your body. You stumble to the door, testing the handle. It doesn’t budge. Of course, it doesn’t. They’ve done this before.

Silence.

You sink back down onto the hard floor, your chest heaving as tears spill freely down your cheeks. Trembling hands reach up to the corner of your lips, fingers brushing the split skin. The sting makes you wince.

The clock ticks on, indifferent. 4:50 p.m.

You take a shuddering breath and wipe your tears with unsteady hands. You smooth your hair, trying to tame the mess they made of it. With a quick swipe, you clear the blood from your mouth, leaving behind only the faint metallic taste.

All you can do now is wait. Alone—praying—that someone will come and find you in this empty room.

What you didn’t expect was that someone would come—three hours later, long after the sun had set. You’d been staring at the door for so long that when it finally creaked open, you were already halfway to your feet.

But then you froze.

It’s him.

Of all people, it’s him.

You swallowed the surprise in your throat, pulse-quickening as you watched him slip inside, crouching low, moving backward like he was avoiding something.

He was hiding. From what, you didn’t know—not until a beam of light swept across the windows above, brushing against the walls like a searching hand. Your body stiffened, instinct telling you to stay still.

You weren’t sure you could.

When his gaze finally landed on you, the shock in his expression was unmistakable—and you knew yours mirrored his. Suspended in that shared disbelief.

“Quiet, please,” his lips shaped the words. His hand rose, a single finger pressing against his mouth. The dim light barely reached him, but you caught the faint pink of his lips.

Minutes passed. Neither of you spoke, just staring at each other like you were both trying to figure out something. He shifted, his eyes widening in alarm.

“B-blood,” he stammered, pointing at your forehead.

Your hand shot up instinctively, fingers brushing against the skin there. When you pulled it back, you saw it—smudges of red streaking your fingertips.

He's as startled as you, he tapped his chest, like he was trying to centre himself, and quickly rummaged through his pocket. He pulled out a handkerchief, holding it out to you with a slightly trembling hand.

You didn’t take it. You couldn’t. It must be the ache in your bones, the hunger in your stomach, the blood still fresh on your hands—or maybe... your mind was still catching up to the fact that he was here, standing this close to you.

When you didn’t move, he took another step forward, hesitating only briefly before carefully pressing the cloth to your forehead. His touch was cautious, you could feel the warmth of his hand through the fabric.

From this close, you could smell him. Clean, with a faint trace of musk, and something sweet underneath. You hated how your chest tightened because of it.

“What happened? Why are you here?” he asked, his fingers were steady as he wiped the blood from your skin. His brow furrowed as he inspected the small cut, his concern written plainly on his face. “Did someone lock you in?”

You shook your head, hesitant. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, so you let your gaze fall somewhere—anywhere—but on his eyes.

He didn’t press for more. “Let’s get out of here.”

His hand found yours. All you could do was stare at your entwined fingers. You can feel the tip of your ears go warm. He gave it a gentle squeeze before he stood and pulled you up from the cold, unforgiving floor.

The boy who had only ever been a distant figure to you. The boy you’d sketched on countless pages, the one whose smile crinkled his eyes so perfectly it made your chest ache. The boy you were sure didn’t even know you existed.

He pulls you out of this suffocating room. His tall, sure figure led, guiding you as you ran. Every so often, he glances back, his eyes searching yours and for a fleeting moment, you glance down and see your shadows on the wall—together. His hands never let go of yours until you weren't in the dark anymore.

Huening Kai.

Kai slouches in his seat, letting out another heavy sigh. His body’s in class, sure, but his mind? It’s stuck somewhere else—somewhere back last night.

He can’t stop thinking about you. And he's not sure why.

You both made it out of the school grounds safely, and he even helped you gather your things from your locker. He stood there awkwardly, watching when you downed a bottle of water in one long gulp like your life depended on it. His suspicions were confirmed—someone did lock you in that room.

How long had you waited, sitting there in the dark? His stomach churned at the thought. What if he hadn’t been hiding that way? What if no one had found you? The idea of you spending the entire night in that empty space until a teacher or janitor happened upon you made his heart race. It’s… eating him alive.

But the thing that gets him, the part he can’t stop replaying, is how… quiet you were. No explanations, no complaints—just a nod here and there, avoiding his eyes the whole time. Did he cross a line? Say something wrong? Overstep somehow? Did he offend you without realizing? Or worse—do you just not like him?

He rubs the back of his neck. And yet, despite all that, he also can’t stop thinking about how your eyes seem soft under the moonlight, making them look so—

“Dude.” Beomgyu’s voice cuts, “What’s with the brooding? Bell rang.”

Kai glances around the classroom. Almost empty. “Oh. Right. Nothing,” he mumbles, grabbing his bag.

Beomgyu narrows his eyes. “You’ve been sulking like my dog when I don’t share my snacks.”

Kai remained silent, pouting and followed Beomgyu out of the classroom. It’s lunch now, and as usual, they’re headed to meet Taehyun at the cafeteria. Heeseung and Jay will probably join them too.

Walking through the hall, Kai forces a polite smile at the people who greet him. Beomgyu, on the other hand, is his usual exuberant self, grinning and dapping up every other guy who greets him as they pass.

The two make their way into the cafeteria, people stared. They walk toward their usual spot, a table near the centre of the room. No one ever sits there. Everyone knows—it’s their table. Yeonjun made that mark. It's an unspoken rule.

Kai drops into his seat, setting his bag down and pulling out his packed lunch. The cafeteria food doesn’t really do it, not when his mom’s food is always better.

“What do you have?” Beomgyu asks, leaning over.

“Tempura and some beef,” Kai replies, popping a piece of shrimp into his mouth.

“Give me some,” Beomgyu demands, already reaching for his chopsticks. Kai rolls his eyes but slides the container a little closer, watching as Beomgyu happily steals a piece.

Taehyun walks in, weaving the crowded tables with his usual stride. “You're early,” he greets, his seat across from them. "That's a record."

Kai’s eyes flick toward the entrance, catching sight of you slipping. You moved slowly, clutching your tumbler. You keep your head low, glancing around as if to make sure no one’s watching. Kai stands, pushing his chair back abruptly. He can't miss this chance.

Beomgyu pauses mid-bite, raising an eyebrow. “What’re you doing?”

Taehyun gives him a sideways glance. “Kai?” Kai ignored them. He just heads toward you.

“Hey,” he calls out, but you don’t turn. Hesitating for only a second, he gently taps your shoulder.

You whirl around. Your grip tightens on the water bottle, and your eyes widen slightly when you realise it’s him. Around you, a few people glance over.

“Hey,” he says again, softer this time. “How’s your head?” He tilts his own slightly, trying to catch a glimpse of the bandaid peeking out near your hairline. “That looks better,” he murmurs.

“Would you like to join us for lunch?” He points behind him toward his table when you don't answer, where Beomgyu and Taehyun are undoubtedly watching. As he expected, you shake your head quickly, almost instinctively, avoiding his eyes.

The small rejection stings more than it should. Kai nods, trying to hide his disappointment. “Alright,” he mutters. Then, before he can second-guess himself, he gently takes the tumbler from your hands.

He heads to the water station, fills it to the brim, screws the cap on tightly, and hands it back to you. “Here,” he says simply. It's small. But he wanted to do it for you.

You nod, a small, polite gesture, and turn to leave without a word or a backward glance.

Kai watches you, chest tight. When he trudges back to his table, Beomgyu’s smirk is already waiting for him.

“What was that about?” Taehyun asks, leaning forward.

“I was just checking on her,” Kai mumbles, slumping into his seat. “She never talks to me. I don’t get it.”

Taehyun’s gaze sharpens, and he studies Kai for a moment before letting out a quiet sigh. “She can’t,” he finally says, voice calm but firm.

Kai blinks, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

“She can’t hear you.” Taehyun explains, his tone softening. “She’s deaf, Kai,”

Taehyun filled Kai in, sharing what he knew about you.

Kai was surprised to learn that you were in the same advanced class. As always, you kept everything to yourself. Taehyun admitted he had tried reaching out to you before—once or twice—but even he hadn’t gotten far.

“She’s… just quiet,” Taehyun said with a shrug. “Not just because she’s deaf, either. I’ve tried writing things down for her, you know? Like, in a notebook, to make it easier. But she only ever gives one-word answers. A ‘yes’ here, a ‘no’ there.” He sighed, “It’s hard to get through to her.”

Kai leaned back in his seat, dragging a hand through his hair. Guilt tugged at him. He’d been so quick to assume you were ignoring him, brushing him off on purpose. But now?

Now, he couldn’t stop imagining what it must have been like for you that night. Locked, no way to call for help, no way to know if anyone was coming. Alone. Not even the sounds of footsteps approaching to give you hope.

He swallowed hard, his chest tightening. Would he have been able to handle that? Sitting there for hours, completely cut off from the world? Probably not. He’d have broken down.

That's why Kai finds himself walking in the opposite direction of his classroom, away from Beomgyu’s puzzled stare. He doesn’t look back. His feet carry him toward where Taehyun had gone—toward where he knows you are.

The hallway buzzes with life. Groups of students linger outside classrooms, laughing and chatting, their voices blending into the hour of lunch break. A few glance his way as he passes, curiosity in their eyes.

Kai’s steps slow as he approaches the room. The back entrance gives him a clear view inside. His eyes scan the rows of desks. Someone calls his name. Heads turn, smiles and greetings thrown his way.

But not yours.

You’re sitting in the front row, by the window, farthest from where he stands. The sunlight filters through the glass, casting a soft glow over you. There’s a sketchbook open on your desk, the pages large and blank except for the lines you’re drawing with practised ease. The way your hand moves—purposeful—tells him this is second nature to you.

You’re so focused, so completely lost, that you don’t notice the subtle breeze dancing through the window. It catches your hair, making it sway just enough to draw his attention.

He watches as you pause, tucking the stray strands behind your ear before continuing with your sketch. You look just like him whenever he's with his guitar. Kai feels something tighten in his chest.

You look beautiful.

He doesn’t even know your name. But now, he wants to. More than anything, he wants the honour of knowing you.

It’s free time now, and the history teacher had just left. Most of the class scattered—some heading out to the grounds, others roaming the halls for a little fun. But you stayed. You always stayed.

The thought of running into your stepsisters made your stomach turn. They acted so innocent the night you came home, as if they had nothing to do with your wound. Your stepmother, of course, scolded you for being late, hurling her usual cutting remarks, but she didn’t dig any deeper. Sometimes you wondered if she knew—if she already suspected it was her daughters who had done it and simply chose to stay oblivious.

You sighed, flipping another page of your book, trying to block out the noise in your head.

The sudden sight of a chair being pulled up in front of your desk jolted you. You look up.

Huening Kai.

He was sitting right there, a small, easy smile on his face. His eyes held a kind of softness you weren’t used to. And then, he waved.

Your eyes widened in surprise, and instinctively, you turned your head to check if he was talking to someone else. Surely, this wasn’t for you. But the room was nearly empty. The only other person was fast asleep at the back.

Kai watches as you glance around nervously, he might have thought how beautiful you were from afar, but sitting this close now—you’re breathtaking.

When your eyes meet his again, questioning, he clears his throat and speaks. “Hi.”

You nod, silent—attentive. His voice softens, deliberate as he says the next words slowly, “Can I have your name?”

It takes a moment for the meaning to click, and then you’re reaching for your bag, fingers fumbling slightly as you pull out a notebook—the one you use to communicate.

Kai watches as you flip through the pages, landing on a blank one. You jot something down quickly and then turn it toward him.

Y/N.

He reads it, and a smile breaks across his face, his dimple appearing. You notice for the first time the delicate constellation of beauty marks scattered across his skin. How it suits him.

“Y/N,” he repeats, your name rolling off his tongue like he’s trying it out for the first time. His gaze lifts to meet yours. “That’s a pretty name.”

The compliment catches you off guard, and heat rises to your cheeks. You look away—embarrassed. His fingers tap lightly on your desk, drawing your attention back.

“How are you?” he asks.

You write, I’m okay.

Kai reads it, his brows furrowing slightly. Without hesitation, he leans in, his voice low but insistent. “Does anyone bother you? You know… when I found you that night. That wasn’t an accident, was it?”

You stare at him, lips parting slightly in surprise. Kai thinks for a moment that maybe you didn’t catch what he said. But then, slowly, you lift your pen: Why?

Just as he opens his mouth to explain, you’re already writing again.

Is it because you pity me? You’re looking at him now—directly, unflinchingly.

He doesn't want you to misunderstand anything. So he gently takes the pen from your hand, his fingers brushing yours for a moment. Without saying a word, he leans down and writes his response in your notebook.

Because I want to be your friend...

Your breath catches as you read his words. He adds another line beneath it, the letters a little bolder this time.

And because no one deserves what happened to you.

Kai looks at you then, his expression earnest and open, waiting. The notebook sits between you, and the sound of a new bridge forming in the back of your mind.

When you didn't write anything back, he glances down and picks up the pen again, his handwriting slow and deliberate.

By the way, my name is—

Before he can finish, you reach forward, your hand brushing his ever so slightly making him freeze. You write, finishing it for him.

Kai. Right?

The faintest flicker of surprise crosses his face when he sees what you’ve written. His lips twitch into a small smile, trying his hardest not to let out a wide grin.

You look up, meeting his gaze again, and shrug lightly as if to say, Of course, I know who you are.

Everybody knows you.

The words hang there on the page, Kai blinks, processing your response, and then lets out a soft laugh, his shoulders shaking gently, lips slightly apart.

You watch him, a strange ache tugs at your chest. You wonder, How does his laugh sound? Does it sound as pretty as he looks? Now, you're wishing for something you’ve trained yourself not to want—a window into the world you’ve long been shut out of.

It'll be nice to hear his laugh.

The two of you spent the rest of your free time in that same spot. You talked—or rather, wrote—filling the pages of your notebook with conversation. He was surprisingly talkative, and before you knew it, you'd used up two blank pages. When the conversation naturally faded, you went back to your book, but this time, you pulled another one from your bag and handed it to Kai. He took it with a small smile and began to read as well.

There you were, two students, sitting across from each other, lost in your own worlds yet somehow sharing the same one. The room felt warmer, leaving just the two of you in the bubble. You were aware of the flush in your cheeks, the way it stubbornly lingered, but you didn’t mind.

You snapped out of your thoughts when you noticed classmates filtering back into the room. Their steps slowed as they took in the scene—Kai, the school’s band guitarist, slouched in front of your desk, reading quietly across from you, the school's outcast. The deaf girl. His long legs stretched out under the desk, almost touching yours.

He didn’t bother to look up. He didn’t greet them or acknowledge the weight of their stares. Instead, his eyes stayed on the page, though every now and then, they flickered back to you. Each time, he’d give you that same small, reassuring smile—the one that made your heart flutter.

He snapped out of it when your foot gently nudged his leg. The classroom was full now, with students bustling back to their seats, most kept stealing glances at Kai. Their eyes darted back and forth, curiosity written all over their faces, as if trying to make sense of why he was here with you.

Out of the corner, you saw Taehyun make his way over. You couldn’t catch their conversation—Taehyun’s body was turned slightly away—but it was clear from his expression that he was asking why Kai was here. Kai gave him a brief nod, and after a moment, Taehyun returned to his seat, still throwing occasional glances in your direction.

You glanced at the clock. Five minutes left of free time. Before you could process it, you felt a light tap on your shoulder. Kai stood, waving a quick goodbye. He slid his hands into his pockets, all eyes on him as he walked out.

He had just spent his entire free time here. Here, with you.

You swallowed hard, your heart thudding in your chest. Your gaze drifted down the newly etched words he left in your notebook.

See you later :>

You found yourself smiling at nothing, the memory of your afternoon with Kai playing over and over in your mind. Back home now, the evening settling around you, it felt.. warm.

With a watering can in hand, you moved through the small garden—your mother’s garden. It was one of the few things left untouched by your stepmother, a living memory of the woman who once nurtured it with care. What had started as a modest patch of green had grown into something more of a sanctuary.

Your gaze fell on the cornflowers nearby, their vivid blue seeming to shine a little brighter today. Maybe it was the light, or maybe it was the joy still bubbling in your chest, making everything around you seem more… alive, more beautiful. You crouched, fingers brushing gently against the petals, and it felt like your mother was right there, as if she, too, could sense the happiness blooming inside you.

Your thoughts were abruptly cut off by an icy cascade of water, soaking you from head to toe. The coldness stole your breath, bit into your skin and you let out a shriek, the shock more than you could bear. Spinning around, you found Chae-won standing there, a smug grin plastered on her face, the empty bucket tossed carelessly to the side. Behind her, Yun-jin stood with her arms crossed, her glare sharp.

"Are you a witch now, too?" Chae-won sneered, her voice dripping with mockery. Her eyes locked onto yours, glinting with cruel satisfaction. "For someone who's deaf, you're pretty damn loud."

Before you could react, she grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking you down with a force that sent you stumbling. Your knees hit the ground hard, the sting of the impact mixing with the cold that seeped into your clothes. You trembled, pain and humiliation washing over you.

"Kai? What did you say to him?" Chae-won continued. "What the fuck did you say to make him hang out with trash like you?"

Tears welled up in your eyes. You tried to stand, but Chae-won shoved you back down, making you cry out in frustration. You reached for her, desperate to defend yourself, but Yun-jin stepped in, pulling Chae-won away, smirking and enjoying your helplessness.

Chae-won then dusted off her shirt as if your touch had soiled her, letting out an exaggerated huff. "You better not think about—"

Her threat was cut short by the arrival of your stepmother. "Chae-won," She approached, her eyes sweeping over your sodden form with a detached disapproval. "Her father might come home today."

That was enough to make Chae-won and Yun-jin roll their eyes, angrily retreating into the house, but not before casting you one last withering glare.

Your stepmother's gaze lingered on the garden, then flicked back to you, her expression unreadable. "Fix yourself," she said coldly before turning away, following her daughters inside, as if she just didn't witness them assault you.

You wiped your tears with the back of your hand. The cold water seeped into your skin, its touch biting deep, while the chill of the night’s wind wrapped around you, amplifying the discomfort.

When—when—would they ever stop? When would they finally fail to crush anything close to the hope you dared to feel? You swallowed hard, heart hurt when you saw one of the cornflowers crushed, the delicate blue petals were bent and broken, scattered across the dirt like they didn’t matter.

Just like what they did to you.

Kai thrummed his guitar, his head bobbing in time with the beat as Jay kept pace on the drums. A wide grin spread across his face as he glanced at Jay, impressed. That guy could really play.

The upcoming festival had everyone excited, especially since their band was set to perform. It wasn’t just their idea; the school had practically begged them to be part of the lineup. Naturally, everyone agreed.

As the final song ended, Kai slung his guitar strap off and gave Heeseung and Jay playful pats on the back. “Good session,” he said, voice light. Taehyun had already disappeared for some student council meeting, and Beomgyu crouched near the amp, fiddling with the cables.

As Heeseung and Jay left the practice room, Beomgyu glanced up, a sly smirk tugging at his lips. “So… you caused quite a stir yesterday, huh.”

Kai paused, brow furrowing. “What are you talking about?”

Beomgyu leaned back, his arms crossed over his chest. “Everyone’s talking about you and… the deaf girl. How you were hanging out with her.”

Kai’s hand stilled on his guitar case. “Don’t call her that,” he said sharply, “She has a name.”

Beomgyu blinked, taken aback by the intensity of the glare Kai shot him. He raised his hands in mock surrender, smirk faltering. “Whoa, okay. Chill, man. That was disrespectful of me. I'm sorry.” Kai didn’t respond, his focus shifting back to securing his guitar. The other could tell he was still irritated.

“So,” Beomgyu's tone was now more careful. “What’s her name?”

Kai hesitated, his fingers pausing over the latch of the case. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, “Y/N.”

Beomgyu caught it—the way Kai’s whole demeanour shifted, softening just at the mention of your name. He grinned knowingly, a teasing glint in his eye.

“Oh, man, you’ve got it bad, huh?” Kai didn’t answer, but the way he bit his lip, was enough. Beomgyu chuckled, shaking his head as he stood. “You’re in deep, dude.”

The two of them walked out of the band room, sunlight streaming across the school grounds as they headed toward their next class. Kai’s guitar hung over his back, his steps light with anticipation. He had a plan for today’s free time—he was going to show it to you.

Then he froze.

“Why’d you stop?” Beomgyu asked, frowning at his friend’s sudden halt.

Kai’s gaze was locked on you. You were walking across the yard, a book clutched in your hand. But something was off. Your steps were uneven, almost shaky, like you were struggling to keep your balance. His chest tightened as he noticed you blink rapidly, expression dazed.

A cold knot of worry tightened in Kai’s chest.

Kai bolted toward you, his long strides eating up the distance between you in moments. The world around him blurred—voices, students, the sun—all of it drowned out by the urgency pounding in his chest. He reached you just as your legs gave up. You fell into his arms.

“Hey, hey,” he murmured, voice shaking. His hand settled on your face, and the heat of your skin sent alarm bells ringing in his mind. Scorching hot. A fever.

Your eyes fluttered closed, forehead creased, and face was pale. Too pale.

“What the hell happened?” Beomgyu’s voice came from somewhere behind him, but Kai barely registered it. "Is she okay?"

Without thinking, Kai shrugged off his guitar, letting it drop carelessly to the ground. “Help me,” he said quickly, his voice tight. He grabbed your arm, trying to shift your weight. Beomgyu caught on immediately, stepping forward to assist.

Together, they managed to lift you onto Kai’s back. His arms hooked under your legs, his grip firm but gentle as he adjusted you. “Hold on,” With you securely on his back, Kai broke into a run, his breath coming in quick.

“Slow down, man! You’re gonna trip!” Beomgyu followed close behind, clutching the guitar Kai had abandoned without a second thought—because of you.

The school nurse moved quickly, her practiced hands checking your temperature and administering care as Kai stepped back, his chest still heaving from the run. He stood there, hands on his hips, watching you, his heart refusing to slow down. Beomgyu excused himself, talks about getting water, leaving Kai alone.

His eyes fell on the notebook you had been clutching, which fell on the floor. He reached for it carelessly—a loose page slipped free, back to the floor. He crouched to pick it up, and the moment he turned it over, his breath caught.

It was a sketch. Of him.

Every detail was there, drawn with painstaking precision—the dusting of freckles on his cheeks, small moles he often forgot about, his jawline, his hair. The lines were sure, as though you had poured hours into capturing him just… right.

His throat tightened as he stared, unable to tear his eyes away. Was this really how you saw him?

Kai swallowed hard, and glanced at the rest of the page. Small sketches of cats bordered the margins, their playful forms lightening the otherwise focused artwork. A soft smile enters his lips when his eyes also land on your pen, its barrel adorned with tiny cat designs. His fingers touch the paper, careful not to smudge your work.

You're perfect, he thought, the words echoing in his head, shouting like a whispered confession. How could someone be so perfect?

Kai had to leave you at the clinic to attend classes.

He hesitated, lingering by the door, his eyes darting back to your still form on the cot. You were fast asleep, but the colour slowly returned to your cheeks. He wanted to stay, to make sure you were okay, but he knew he couldn’t. With a defeated sigh, he left. And you were gone when he returned.

"Someone came to fetch her," the nurse explained when he asked. He's still bothered. You were home now, he told himself, safe and resting. Right?

The next morning came, he sat at the kitchen counter. What he wanted to do first thing, was to see you. "Hiyyih,"

She glanced at him over her shoulder, her brow raised. "Yeah?"

"Can you, uh… can you make my lunch today?" Hiyyih stopped, turning fully to face him. "What? But I always make your lunch."

Kai shifted in his seat, awkwardly. "I mean… could you make it like yours?"

"Like mine? What do you mean, like mine?"

Kai hesitated, the words sticking in his throat. Finally, he blurted out, "The cat rice balls. Can you add those?" There was silence as Hiyyih stared at him, her lips tight. Then, she broke into a slow, knowing smirk. "Cat rice balls, huh?"

Kai felt the heat up his neck, and he quickly averted his stare. "Just—just make them, okay?" He groaned, dropping his head onto the counter.

Hiyyih burst out laughing, her teasing ringing through. Oh, he's sure. This was going to haunt him for days.

Kai spent the day in restless anticipation, his usual self replaced with something far more jittery. Even his friends couldn’t ignore it. He fidgeted during class, zoned out at times, and seemed to barely hear what anyone was saying.

It was all because of you.

When he saw Taehyun at band practice earlier, the first words out of his mouth weren’t about music. “Is she coming today?”

Taehyun had nodded, confirming you were attending class, and Kai had been trying—and failing—to calm his racing thoughts ever since. By lunchtime, the decision was made. He slung his bag over his shoulder, he turned to Beomgyu. "I’m skipping the cafeteria today."

Beomgyu just gave him a knowing look, his smirk light, teasing. "Didn’t think you needed to explain," he points out. "Your face already did."

Kai didn’t even bother denying it. Instead, he took a steadying breath and headed toward the one place he knew he’d find you. Your classroom.

His steps slowed when he spotted you inside, seated at your desk. The heaviness in his chest lifts. You were pulling open a lunch box, carefully arranging everything, your expression calm and focused.

He stepped inside, and when he was almost infront of you, you glanced up, your eyes widening slightly when you saw him.

"Hi," Kai said, a small, nervous smile sitting on his lips. You blinked, surprised, but a faint smile broke through as you set your chopsticks down.

He scratched the back of his neck, suddenly feeling warm under your gaze. "I, uh… I figured I’d check on you. Make sure you’re okay, you know… after the other day."

You nod, reaching for your notebook to write a reply, but Kai gently stopped you with a small shake of his hand. “You should eat first, okay?” he said softly, his lips forming the words carefully for you to read.

Your response was simple—a quick thumbs-up—but it was enough to make a boyish grin spread across his face.

Pulling out a chair, Kai sat across from you, his movements just a little nervous, though he tried to hide it. He set his lunchbox on the table, the bright cat decorations catching your eye. It's hard to really miss how much effort had gone into it—cat-shaped rice balls, tiny details, and colourful accents that screamed effort.

Kai caught your expression. "Hiyyih made it," he admitted. What he didn’t mention was how he’d spent an entire morning persuading her to make it perfect, offering bribes, doing her chores, and enduring her teasing, all just to get her to agree.

He opened the lid and carefully moved a portion of the food into your lunchbox. "Here," he said, nudging it toward you.

You glanced at him in surprise, then back at the food, your lips parting slightly before they curved into a smile—a real smile. Not the polite, hesitant ones you used to give him, but a full, bright smile. It reached your eyes, crinkling them at the corners.

Kai froze for a moment, his breath catching in his throat. You’d smiled at him before, but not... like this.

He had never quite understood why his sister went to such lengths with these little creations—why she got up before sunrise to shape rice into animals or why her mood seemed to brighten whenever someone praised her work. But now, watching the way your face softened, the way your smile seemed to linger longer than usual, it all started to make sense.

If something as small and silly as this could make you look at him like this, if it could bring you even the smallest bit of joy, then he thought to himself—he’d start doing it too.

Swallowing, he picked up his chopsticks, forcing himself to eat even as his appetite felt oddly… irrelevant. He stole glances, and it struck him how happy you looked. The memory of when he’d first met you flashed in his mind, alone, wounded and withdrawn. And yet, here you were now.

His stomach fluttered, suddenly feeling full—not from the meal but from something that only your smile seemed to give.

After lunch, Kai didn’t get the chance to spend his free time with you. Beomgyu practically dragged him to practice, which he didn’t resist—especially since seeing you healthy and smiling had already lifted his spirits. His energy during practice was unmatched, his fingers flying over the guitar strings with a renewed vigour. For once, it felt effortless, like his heart was finally in sync with the music again.

When the day wound down, he found himself waiting by the school gates. A few students greeted him as they passed, and he returned their smiles politely, though his attention remained elsewhere. His heart leapt the moment he spotted you walking toward him, your steps purposeful yet light. His lips curved into a small smirk before he could help it.

"I wanted to see you before you went home," he said softly.

Your smile in response made his chest tighten, and you pulled a small notepad and pen from your pocket. After a brief moment of scribbling, you held it up for him to read:

Thank you for everything, Kai.

The simple words hit him harder than he expected, and a warm smile tugged at his lips. “You waiting for your sisters here?” he asked, but as soon as he mentioned them, your smile faltered slightly, and something shifted in your expression.

He remembered Taehyun mentioning that you had two sisters at school, but nothing beyond that. He didn’t press. All he knew was that you usually arrived and left together in the same car.

You scribbled another note. They went home early. Shopping, I think.

Kai’s brows furrowed slightly. Why didn’t they wait for you? Before he could ask, you were already writing your next reply.

I’ll take the bus today.

“Let me take you home,” he said, leaving no room for argument.

The bus was packed, and you followed Kai closely as he led the way. He glanced back, his eyes searching for something until they landed on an empty window seat. With a small nudge of his shoulder, he gestured for you to take it.

Sliding into the seat, you couldn’t help but notice how his arm brushed against yours as he stood beside you, gripping the rail overhead. He leaned down slightly, reaching for the notepad in your hands. His handwriting was a little crooked, he had written quickly, but his message was clear:

Are you okay?

You nodded and took the pen to write your response. Yes.

Satisfied, he smiled. He reaches out, hooking his pinky finger to yours. It stays there, throughout the ride. One that you wished that didn't have to end.

Kai’s eyes widened when you gestured toward your home.

Sure, his own house was comfortable—his family could provide everything he needed—but this? This was on another level. Massive gates, the sprawling estate beyond them, the kind of place that practically screamed wealth, grand estate that made him feel like he’d stepped onto the set of a drama. His thoughts stumbled over themselves as the realization hit: you were a chaebol.

And yet, the thought lingered in his mind: how could they leave you to manage on your own, just because your sisters decided to go out? The question sat uncomfortably in his chest, though he kept it to himself.

You turned to him, drawing his attention back to you. Standing there, you looked up at him, your figure small against his tall, broad frame. He looked so effortlessly handsome it made your chest ache. You wished, fleetingly, to reach out and run your fingers through those dark locks, to feel their texture beneath your hands. He had done so much for you today—more than you could put into words.

See you later?

Kai read it, his lips quirking into a gentle smile.“Go inside,” he said, tapping your head softly. “See you later.”

As you turned and walked toward the house, he stayed rooted to the spot, watching your retreating figure until you disappeared through the gates. He let out a quiet breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, his heart beating steadily against his ribs.

He could do this every day, he thought. Waiting for you, walking you home, making sure you were safe. He wanted to do this every day, however many days, as long as you’d let him.

After sending you home, Kai steps into a familiar bookstore, and the scent of old paper hits his face.

The owner greets him, casually mentioning the new volume of Slam Dunk just released, but Kai doesn’t even register the words. He’s already moving past, heading toward the back of the store where the shelves are less familiar.

He stops in front of a section—far away from the music books, the theory guides, and mangas. He picks it up.

Beginners: Sign Language.

You closed the door behind you, the weight in your chest heavier than it should’ve been. Dinner was supposed to be a happy time, right? Eating with your family, sharing moments. But it never felt like that for you. Not in this house.

Your eyes caught the sight of the fax machine on the side table, a piece of paper hanging loosely from the tray. You walk over, your steps slow, uncertain. Only two people know your number: your dad, and… Kai. You grabbed the paper, the handwriting unmistakable.

Come out. Will be there in 20 mins. —Kai.

Your breath caught. Dinner had taken longer than that. You scrambled to the window, heart pounding, and there he was—a silhouette against the dim streetlights, a mess of dark hair leaning casually against the gate.

You didn’t hesitate. Grabbing your pen and notepad from the desk, you ran. The startled looks of the housemaids blurred past you, and even the sharp, judgmental gaze of your stepmother from the couch—teacup poised mid-sip—couldn’t stop you. She doesn’t matter right now. Nothing does but getting to him.

You burst through the front gates, your eyes locking with his. His face breaks into a soft, immediate smile when he sees you, the sight of you in your loose shirt and pyjamas makes his heart skip a beat.

You raise your notepad, writing quickly, then holding it up for him to see. What are you doing here?

You reach for your notepad and pen, the confusion evident on your face as you extend them toward him. But instead of taking them, his hands move, and the world around you seems to pause.

"Hi." His fingers shape the sign, hesitant, uncertain. Your heart stumbles as you watch his hand move again, spelling out your name, letter by letter, in sign language. It’s slow, almost clumsy, but every movement is intentional. He’s trying, and it sends your heart racing.

"How was your—" He falters mid-sign, his hands falling to his sides. You watch as he digs into his pocket, pulling out a small book. The title catches your eye, and your chest tightens. He scratches the back of his neck, looking at you with an embarrassed sort of determination as he mouths, Wait.

And then he tries again, repeating the signs, "How was your dinner?" His movements are a little smoother this time. The question lingers in the space between you, and you feel your throat tighten as tears prick at the corners of your eyes. It feels like you can hear—his voice.

Your body moves before you can think. You step forward and wrap your arms around his neck. Your head presses against his chest, and you feel the slight hitch in his breath before his arms slide around your waist, holding you close. His warmth steadies you as a single tear slips free, trailing down your cheek.

No one had ever done this for you before. No one had ever tried to meet you in your silence, to understand the world you lived in. At home, they’d dismissed sign language, rejected it, treating it like some kind of shameful reminder of what they wanted to ignore. They’d made you feel like you were something to be hidden, something that's less.

But here he was—a boy who, just weeks ago, had been a stranger—bridging the gap, pouring himself into learning just to reach you. Crossing the distance to meet you where you were alone.

For the first time, you didn’t feel stranded on an island of your own.

Kai spent the next few minutes basking in the warmth of your presence. When another tear slipped past your eye, he reached out, his thumb brushing it away with the gentleness of someone afraid to break something precious. His attempts at signing sentences were clumsy at best, and your happiness marked your face—something that made his heart do flips.

"Yah, I'm trying, you know," he huffed, feigning indignation as he stomped his foot playfully. His pout only deepened when you smiled at him, and he could feel the heat crawling up his neck to his cheeks. He wanted to tease you back, but the words caught in his throat when you raised your hands.

It was the first time you signed in front of him. The motion was small but deliberate, the flick of your hand touching your chin before extending toward him. Kai’s eyebrows knit together, his mind scrambling to catch up. He flipped the pages of his book, muttering, “Wait, what does that mean?”

You reached for your notepad, scribbling the word: Thank you.

Before he could process the words, you signed again, your hands moving with a fluidity that stopped him in his tracks. The glow of the moon and the faint light from the lamppost illuminated your every move, casting soft dancing shadows across your face. And Kai—he forgot how to breathe.

You looked… different. You were stunning. Not the shy, hesitant version of you he’d grown used to, but confident and sure. Each gesture was almost poetic, and he was utterly mesmerized. The way your fingers moved felt like a song without sound—it suited you in a way words never could. He didn’t even want to blink, because he was afraid he’d miss something.

All he could do was watch, completely captivated by the real you.

"You didn't really have to. But thank you… for learning it for me."

The moment was shattered by the loud creak of the gates swinging open. Kai turned, his gaze meeting a woman’s sharp, glaring eyes. He opened his mouth to bow in greeting, but he quickly realized her scowl wasn’t for him—it was directed squarely at you.

Confused, Kai glanced back at you, his eyes scanning your face. Panic was written all over it. You hastily scribbled on your notepad, the letters uneven and rushed: Step-mother. Go home now, Kai.

He read the words and nodded, even if he didn’t fully grasp the situation. When your eyes met his again, there was something pleading in them. Turning back to the woman, Kai mustered a polite bow. “Good evening,”

She didn’t acknowledge him. “Go inside or we’ll lock you out here all night.”

Kai froze, the words almost too cruel to believe. He remembers you being locked up that night at school. His jaw clenched, but he kept his expression neutral, eyes flicking back to you. You were already scribbling again: Good night. Be safe travelling home.

He noticed something then—why hadn’t you signed it? He’d learned those words, and he knew you knew them too. But he didn’t ask, didn’t want to add to your distress. Instead, he nodded silently, stepping forward to close the distance between you. He bent down and pressed a light, lingering kiss to your hairline. A small gesture to remind you that he was here, even if he had to leave now. "See you later."

When he straightened, he turned to your stepmother, who was staring at him with thinly veiled disdain. Kai met her gaze, nodded politely, and then stepped back.

He didn’t look away until he saw you retreat inside.

The gates slammed shut with a force that rattled him. Your stepmother's tone echoed in his ears, harsh and dripping with contempt. He hated the way she’d spoken to you, the way her eyes had looked at you as though you did something so wrong.

He walked away, fists clenched at his sides. The thought of you living in a house with someone like that left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Kai reunited with you the next day.

He carefully tried to bring up the encounter with your stepmother, but you avoided the topic entirely. He didn’t push, though. Instead, he quietly accepted it when you told him you lived with her, your stepsisters, and that your father was out of town on business. He said he’d wait—that he’d listen when you were ready to open up, when you felt comfortable.

Now, he’s on his way to the band room, arriving half an hour early for practice. His hand is wrapped around yours as he pulls you along. The soft warmth of your fingers in his feels just right. Students pass by, glancing your way, but Kai doesn’t care. Not when you’re here with him.

You agreed to come, though you weren’t sure what to expect. When you step into the room, your eyes widen. Trophies line the shelves, instruments are arranged neatly against the walls, and there’s a large, inviting couch in the corner. There's also a small door that must lead to a private bathroom.

Kai settles you on the couch, his lips curving into a gentle smile as he pulls his guitar out of its case. He tells you he wanted you to see this. He also mentions the upcoming festival in two days—a subtle invitation in his words.

As he strums the first notes, your eyes are drawn to him. The memory of the first time you saw Kai surfaces—your second year of high school. That day, he was being calmed down by Soobin, the band’s previous genius pianist. Even then, he left an impression so strong that you couldn’t forget him, no matter how much time had passed.

Now, sitting here in the band room as he plays his guitar for you, it feels surreal. If someone had told you back then that this would happen, you’d have laughed it off or called it impossible. But here you are, and he glances up, his eyes flickering between the strings and your face.

"I like it," you sign.

Kai’s face lights up. He reaches for something—your eyes are drawn to his hands. There, faint guitar scars run across his fingers, etched into his skin like a map of all the hours he’s poured into his craft.

An idea enters your mind.

Two days later, the school day comes to an end. You quietly pack your belongings, slipping books and papers into your bag as the chatter of students fills the room. The festival is less than an hour away. You’re just about to zip up your bag when movement near the doorway catches your attention.

Choi Beomgyu steps into the classroom, his eyes scanning the room like he’s on a mission. You glance at him curiously as Taehyun notices and stands up, greeting him with a nod then points in your direction. Beomgyu makes his way over with Taehyun trailing behind him. "Hi, Y/N," he signs, the motion catching you completely off guard. Your eyes widen in surprise. Did Kai teach him that? Did he teach both of them?

Before you can even process the thought, Beomgyu hands you a folded shirt. You take it hesitantly, inspecting it as the fabric unfurls in your hands. The moment you see the name Huening Kai printed boldly on the back, your heart skips. It’s his band shirt.

“He’ll love it,” Beomgyu says, a small grin tugging at his lips and winks. He reaches out, lightly tapping your head like it’s the most casual thing in the world. Without another word, he throws an arm around Taehyun’s shoulders, and the two of them leave the classroom together. Some girls in your room look at you with dirty looks. It matters not, you'll have to change your shirt first.

Kai’s eyes catch on your shirt almost instantly, his pace slowing as he closes the distance between you.

Confusion flits across his face, but then realization dawns. His band shirt. His name, his number on your back. His eyes widen in disbelief, and he lets out a laugh.

When you’re close enough, he reaches out, gently turning you around so he can see the full print. His fingers linger lightly on your shoulders. His grin widens, a mix of pride and something softer that you can’t quite name.

“You’ll watch, right?” he asks. His throat feels tight, and it’s not just the sight of you in his shirt—it’s everything it means.

You nod, slowly reaching into your pocket, pulling out a small gift box. You hold it out to him, “For me?” he asks softly, taking it with both hands.

When he opens the box, his breath catches in his throat. Inside are guitar picks, each one smooth and carefully chosen, but what draws his attention is the tiny, handwritten phrase etched onto them. He squints, his eyes narrowing slightly as he tilts the pick closer to the light.

See you later.

The phrase so familiar, a staple in all your goodbyes. It’s what he always waits to hear from you, what he secretly pouts about if you forget to say it. It’s a simple phrase, used by so many people in passing, but between the two of you, it’s different—reassurance that you’ll always find your way back to each other.

His chest tightens, emotion welling up in a way he hadn’t expected. He steps forward, pulls you into a hug, holding you close, his chin resting on your head. "What do I do with you?" He whispers to himself. He finally pulls back, his hands linger at your elbows, eyes searching yours. You lift your hands to sign, your movements slow.

"Good luck, rock star."

Soobin’s hand rested on your back, touch steadying as the crowd began to thicken around the stage. Kai had entrusted you to him and Yeonjun, and though the absence of Kai’s presence made you nervous, Soobin’s calm demeanour offered an unexpected sense of safety.

Yeonjun had gone to grab water, leaving you and Soobin to hold your place by the barricade. The festival was just moments away from starting, with students from your school, other schools, and alumni who had come back for the event. You found yourself gripping the metal tightly, the unfamiliar place… overwhelming. It's your first time to even attend one.

Soobin noticed immediately. He tapped your shoulder gently, “Are you okay?”

You turned to him, his concern reflected in his face. You nodded, returning a small smile. His kindness felt natural. You could see why Kai spoke of him so fondly.

You barely had time to respond before you were pulled into a sudden hug. The embrace was tight, and a sweet floral scent filled your senses. You froze in surprise, but when the person stepped back, the grin on her face was so bright and genuine that you couldn’t help but soften.

“Hi! I’m Hiyyih!” she exclaimed, her face full of excitement, her eyes shining like she’d been waiting forever to meet you. Her name made you pause, recognition flashing through your mind. Your eyes widened slightly, but you smiled back at her, quickly scribbling in your notepad.

Y/N. Nice to meet you, Hiyyih.

She read it, and immediately squealed, her reaction so heartfelt and full of life that it drew laughter from Soobin. “How did my brother pull you, huh?” she teased, shaking her head in disbelief. Then, with mock irritation, she turned to Soobin and added, “Seriously, how?”

Soobin chuckled, clearly amused. “I know. She's too pretty. Magic, maybe,” he offered casually, and Hiyyih groaned dramatically. She hooked her arm through yours, as if you’d known each other for years. You're glad they didn't mention the blush evident on your cheeks.

Yeonjun returned, handing you a cold bottle of water. “You okay?” he asked, his tone just as kind and considerate as Soobin’s had been. You nodded again, clutching the water tightly as you looked between them all—Hiyyih’s bright enthusiasm, Soobin’s quiet reassurance, and Yeonjun’s laid-back charm. It feels nice to be surrounded by people you want to be with.

You could get used to this. Being with people who made you feel like you mattered—more than your own family ever had.

It was dark now, the festival lit only by the vibrant glow of stage lights, casting shifting colours across the crowd. The ground trembled beneath your feet as people jumped and swayed, their cheers blending with the music in an electrifying symphony.

Your eyes scanned the stage, searching—and then you saw him. Kai. There he was, guitar in hand, lost in the music. The way he moved was effortless as if the instrument was an extension of himself. His face was lit up, not just by the stage lights but by a joy that radiated from within. He looked alive. Happy. He belonged there. He owns it.

And then his eyes found yours.

The chaos around you seemed to fade. Slowly, you signed, "You look cool," your hands steady even as your heart raced. You watched as his gaze followed the movement of your hands, his eyes softening with every word you formed. You didn’t need to be close to him. You didn’t need to hear his voice. As long as you could see him—and he could see you.

His lips curved into a smile, and he winked, the playful gesture making you smile back, heart swelling with pride.

The performance was incredible, each member of the band owning their moment, their energy filling the space and igniting the crowd. When the last song ended, the crowd erupted into cheers, and the band bowed together, camaraderie evident even from a distance. But before you could fully take in the scene, Kai was running.

The moment he stepped off the stage, his eyes searched for your face. His shoulders eased as soon as he saw you, surrounded by people he trusts. He loves performing—he truly does. But the thought of returning to you, is louder than any applause. His feet move before his mind can think.

Straight to you.

He reached you in seconds, his chest heaving, adrenaline still coursing through him. "I can't stop looking at you,” he said, his voice low, the words had been waiting to escape all night. His hands cradled your face, calloused by the guitar scars. "I need to kiss you right now or I'll go crazy."

You barely noticed the stares of the crowd or the murmurs of those nearby. All you could see was him. He leaned in, his breath mingling with yours, and his lips brushed against yours in the softest kiss. You’d always known his lips looked soft, but they still managed to surprise you—how perfectly they fit against yours.

When he pulled back, his grin was so wide. His arms wrapped around you tightly, holding you close as if you were the only thing that mattered. Around you, his friends clapped him on the back, their faces proud with congratulations.

“See you later?” Kai signed, his movements fluid, more confident. You nodded with a smile, waving as he stepped back. His grin widened, and he watched you enter the gates of your home.

That smile lingered on your face, carrying you all the way inside. The front doors opened for you, the maids greeting you with quiet bows, and you headed for the staircase, ready to retreat to your room.

But before you could take the first step, a hand seized your wrist and yanked you back. The slap came next, sharp and sudden, leaving a sting that spread across your cheek like fire. Startled, your hand flew to your face, and your wide, disbelieving eyes met the furious glare of your stepmother.

“You skipped your painting lesson,” she hissed, face trembling with anger, “and came home late without even telling me.”

“And what for?” she spat. “To loiter with boys? To parade yourself in public, chatting in sign language for the entire neighbourhood to see? What else do you have left to ruin? Do you have any idea how embarrassing this is for the family?” Her voice grew louder, shriller, her hand resting on her hip as she glared at you like you were something she could barely tolerate.

You noticed your stepsisters standing just out of the line. Equal anger on their faces. It was clear—they had told her. Once, their expressions had the power to make you shrink, to make you doubt yourself. Now you felt nothing but disdain. Family, you thought bitterly, scoffing as you turned your head away.

Your stepmother’s hand shot out, grabbing your chin and jerking your face back toward hers. Her nails bit into your skin as she snarled, “Did you laugh? How dare you laugh at me?”

You shoved her hand away. “Don’t touch me,” you signed, your movements sharp, gaze unwavering. You didn’t care that she couldn’t understand. This was the only way you could speak, and you were tired of swallowing your voice.

Her face twisted with fury. “I said stop using sign language!” she barked.

You didn’t flinch. Instead, you signed again, your hands trembling. “I’m not alone anymore,” you told her, the tears burning at the edges of your vision. “You can be the queen of this house, control everything and everyone under this roof. But there’s a world outside these walls. And out there, I have friends. People who see me. People who care.”

“Talk! Talk like a proper person! I told you to talk!” The slap came hard and fast, snapping your head to the side. Your cheek burned with the impact, but this time, you didn’t freeze. You pushed her. Hard.

The room erupted with a collective gasp.

“Touch me again, and you’ll see your name in the newspaper.” Your glare shifted to Chae-won as she stepped forward, her mouth opening to speak, but you didn’t wait to hear what she had to say.

You bolted up the stairs, your heart hammering in your chest, panic fueling every frantic step.

The space felt thick as you threw yourself into your room, slamming the door shut behind you. You moved toward your desk, your hands shaking as you tore your bag open, yanking out a piece of paper. You didn’t have time to think, only enough to scrawl a desperate message, the words barely legible through the blur of your haste.

The door creaked open behind you. Panic surged. You turned, your pulse pounding as you spotted them—the maids stepping into the room. You bolted to the fax machine, shoving the paper in and frantically typing his number. You had to send it. You had to.

The machine whirred, halfway through sending, when two pairs of hands grabbed you, one on each arm. You thrashed and kicked, trying to wrench free, but their grip was too strong. Your stepmother appeared in the doorway, her smirk was cruel, triumphant, and your stomach churned with dread.

And then you saw it—the glint of metal in her hands. Locks.

"Get her upstairs. Now." Your breath caught in your throat. The room seemed to tilt as a memory surged forward, unbidden and suffocating. The attic. The last time she locked you up, you were fifteen. Your skin crawled at the thought of being trapped there again. You were dragged out, your feet sliding against the floor, your cries echoing down the empty hall. It took three of them—three people to overpower you, until the door loomed.

They shoved you inside, your body hitting the floor with a dull thud. You scrambled to your feet, lunging for the door, but it slammed shut in your face. You pounded on the door, fists aching, tears burning behind your eyes. It was harder for you to breathe.

This was her punishment—her way of crushing you every time you dared to fight back, dared to speak your truth.

She’d leave you here, in the dark, in the suffocating silence, until you broke. Until you admitted she was right. Or until your father’s nearing return forced her to let you out, pretending everything was fine.

You had tried to tell him before. Slipping notes into his pockets, scribbling messages when she wasn’t looking. But her eyes were always there, sharp and watchful, snatching away every chance you had. You can’t help but wonder—if you hadn’t stood up to her, if you hadn’t accepted that small, fleeting chance to feel alive, would you still be here right now? Or would you just be trapped in another kind of prison, shackled to the cycle your stepmother has forced you into?

Dust coated every surface, the faint light that seeped through the cracks wasn’t even enough to pierce the gloom to give you hope. You curled up against the wall, knees pulled to your chest, fingers trembling as they pressed against the cold floor. It was something that you had to endure before.

For years.

Kai was running.

He didn’t care about the stares from strangers or the disapproving grunt as he ran the streets. He didn’t care about his mother’s worried gaze when he bolted out the door or the sting of his lungs from sprinting so fast. None of it mattered. All that mattered was getting to you.

The fax had come just minutes ago. He had been half-asleep when the machine whirred, spitting out a crumpled piece of paper with words that sent a shrill down his spine.

Kai, pick me up. Come get me, please. He knew it was you.

His heart pounded as he reached your gates, the mansion unwelcoming under the grey sky. He rang the door frantically, and when a maid opened the door, her polite greeting barely had time to escape her lips before Kai pushed past her.

“Sir, what are you doing?” she cried, alarmed. But Kai didn’t stop. He pushed through the grand double doors, his eyes scanning the room wildly. His gaze landed on a young woman, about his age—your stepsister, he realized with a flare of anger.

“Where’s Y/N?” he demanded, his voice booming through the space. The room fell silent. The maids froze, glancing at one another nervously, while your stepsister stiffened, her lips tightening into a scowl. “Where is she?” Kai shouted again, taking a step forward. A timid maid finally cracked, her wide eyes darting toward the stairs before quickly looking away. It was all he needed.

Kai took off, his legs carrying him up the staircase two steps at a time. As he neared the top, he heard it—a faint pounding, far but desperate. His blood ran cold as realization struck.

The attic.

Kai’s chest tightened as he reached the door. His fist slammed against the wood, the sound reverberating down the hall. The pounding on the other side grew more. His heart felt like it might tear itself apart.

“Open this door!” he says, spinning to face the maids who had followed him upstairs. “What the hell is wrong with you people? Do you want to go to prison for this? Do you want to be accomplices?” The maid who’d glanced upstairs earlier flinched, her hands shaking as she fumbled with a key.

Finally, the lock clicked, and he shoved the door open. His breath caught as he saw you huddled on the floor, your arms wrapped tightly around your knees, your face streaked with tears. “Y/N,” he breathed, rushing to you.

"You found me." You signed, eyes locking on his. He crouched, his arms wrapping around your trembling frame. He pulled you close, his hand smoothing over your hair as he held you against his chest.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m getting you out of this place.” His eyes darted around the attic, taking in the oppressive walls, scattered drawings—sketches you must’ve made. Some looks old, others newer. They had been locking you up here. Trapping you.

Kai stood, pulling you with him, “Come on,” his hand tightened around yours, and you nodded.

He led you down the stairs, his grip never faltering. At the bottom, your stepmother appeared, her expression twisting into one of fury the moment she saw him.

“Do you even realise what you’re doing right now?” she demanded, her voice sharp and grating. “This is kidnapping. Do you have any idea how much trouble you’re in?”

Kai didn’t flinch. He didn’t hesitate. His voice was steady, cold, and razor-sharp. “Not as serious as imprisonment. Or abuse.”

Her lips curled into a mocking sneer. “I’m disciplining her,” she spat, as if the word justified everything.

Your stepmother’s eyes flicked to you as your hands moved, signing. “You’re hurting me.”

Her face darkened. “How many times do I have to tell you to stop signing?”

Kai froze, his mind reeling at her words. “What?” he said, voice low. His jaw tightened as he stared at her, fury building in his chest. “How do you expect her to communicate if she can’t speak?”

She sneered. “Return her inside while I’m still asking nicely,”

“No,” Kai snapped, he turned to her fully, standing tall and unyielding. “I’m not talking to you. Tell her father, when he finally gets home, to come find me personally if he wants to see his daughter again. And don’t even think about stopping me. My mother knows I’m here.”

Your stepmother opened her mouth to argue, but Kai didn’t give her the chance. He turned away, tugging you along behind him as he strode toward the door. His glare silenced any maids who dared step forward, daring anyone to challenge him.

“If you walk out that door,” your stepmother hissed, “you’ll regret it.”

Kai didn’t stop. He didn’t even look back.

The cool night air hit your skin as he pulled you through the gates and into the street. He didn’t care about her threats. He didn’t care about what came next. The only thing he knew was—he would regret it far more if he didn’t leave with you tonight.

When the two of you arrived at Kai’s home, his mother was already at the door, her face filled with concern. The moment she saw you, her eyes softened, but they couldn’t hide the shock and sadness she felt at your condition. “Oh, sweetheart,” she said gently, ushering you inside with open arms. “Let’s get you settled.”

She led you to a spare room, “This was Lea’s room,” she explained with a small smile. “Kai’s sister. She’s away at college now, so it’s all yours for as long as you need.”

Kai, stepped outside, pacing the front yard. His hands clenched and unclenched, breathing unevenly as he tried to calm himself. “How could they do that to her? As human beings?” he spits, in disbelief. “Even animals wouldn’t treat someone like that.”

His mother followed him out, gently placing a hand on his arm. “Kai, breathe,” she said softly. “She needs space to process everything right now.”

Kai shook his head, “What you did was good,” his mother continued. “Let her stay here for now. She’s safe with us.”

“And what happens when her father comes back?” Kai snapped, “What then? She just gets sent back to that place?”

His mother sighed, her grip on his arm steady. “Kai, it’s obvious he doesn’t know what’s been happening. Do you think any father would knowingly allow this?”

“That man, he lives in the same house as her. How does he not know? He’s either blind or he doesn’t care because all he does is make money and turn ignorant to everything else.”

His mother stepped closer, pulling him into a hug before he could spiral further. “It’s not your place to decide what kind of father he is, or if she should forgive him. That’s up to her. Right now, she needs rest.”

You sat curled up on the edge of the bed, knees pulled tightly to your chest, your back pressed into the corner. Your fingers picked at your nailbeds. Every breath you took felt shaky, like you were on the verge of falling apart.

It was the first time you’d ever stood up to them—to that whole oppressive house. The weight of it settled heavily on your chest, but more than that, you worried about Kai. About his family. Would they be okay with you here? What if they went after Kai or his family for taking you in? Would your presence bring trouble to their door? You felt like a curse, dragging misfortune wherever you went.

The sight of the door sliding open startled you. You looked up to see Kai’s mom stepping in, her form soft in the dim light. She carried a stack of clothes in her hands, a small smile on her face.

“Hiyyih’s already asleep, so I had to grab these for you,” she said, setting it down in front of you. “These are Lea’s—Kai’s sister. I’m not sure if you’ll like them, but I thought these might fit you.”

You nodded silently, your heart pounding as you glanced at her. You could not shake the fear that she might say you’d put Kai in danger, that bringing you here was a mistake. Or how much trouble you might’ve caused him. The guilt plague, making your stomach turn.

She didn’t say anything at first, just sat there, her gaze soft and thoughtful. Then her smile widened, and her eyes crinkled at the corners like Kai does. “Gosh, you’re so pretty,” she said, as if she was stating the most obvious fact in the world. “Look at your eyes—they’re so clear, so bright.” Her words made your breath hitch.

“Not being able to talk must be so hard,” she continued, face replaced with sadness. “You must’ve felt so upset. So frustrated.” She moved closer, her hands reaching for yours. Her touch was warm, and something about it made the tears in your eyes sting even more.

“But you did such a good job, honey,” she said, her voice breaking slightly. “Growing up into such a beautiful, strong young lady.” Her thumb gently brushed the back of your hand, and she smiled again, “I’m proud of you.”

Her words shattered something inside you, breaking through the walls you’d tried so hard to keep up. You bit down on your lip, but it was no use. The tears slipped free, rolling down your cheeks.

“If anyone ever hurts you again, if anyone tries to trap you, you come here,” she said firmly, her tone shifting to one of conviction. “Don’t ever put up with it. Just come back here. Or stay here and live with me." She grinned at the thought, expression animated, like it was the simplest solution in the world.

You couldn’t hold it back anymore. You cried, your shoulders trembling as the sobs punished your body. All the days you had endured in silence. The days they made you feel invisible, like you didn’t matter. The way they looked at you, spoke about you, treated you, as though you were something other, something different. Not belonging. Not normal.

"Don't cry," She pulled you into her arms, holding you tightly as she rubbed your back in soothing circles. You were starting to see it wasn’t true. Starting to believe. And her embrace is so… familiar. It was like holding onto a memory you’d been too afraid to revisit—the one you’d clung to as a lifeline but had started to fade, little by little.

It felt like you were eight again, back in time—cradled in your mother’s warm arms.

Kai stood at your door, it's been an hour when he saw his mother leaving, her eyes red from crying. She had tried to reassure him to give you space, to let you be alone tonight—but Kai's heart couldn’t rest. He knocked softly before slipping inside.

You were facing away from him, the sheets pulled up high against your body. He walked over, unsure of what to expect, and tapped a single finger on your shoulder to check if you were awake. You shifted and glanced back at him, your face still soft with the remnants of tears.

He offered a small smile, his hands signing softly, “Hi.”

You didn’t respond with words instead, you scooted over, making room for him on the bed. He slid in beside you, leaving just enough space between you both. “Are you okay?” he signed, his face filled with concern.

“Yes,” you replied quietly, your fingers moving slowly, tracing the air. “Because you always come whenever I need someone.”

His heart skipped a beat. “Anything for you,” he whispered, gaze never left yours. "I'll do anything for you,"

His fingers slowly lifted to cradle your face, his thumb brushing gently across your cheek. Your eyes fluttered closed at the touch, and Kai could feel your breath hitch. You shifted closer to him, pressing your head to his chest, seeking his intoxicating smell.

He tucked you in carefully, his arm lying beneath your head as his head rested gently on top of yours. His touch was warm and soothing as his hand trailed down your back, the warmth from his skin seeping through the fabric of your clothes. You closed your eyes, feeling the calm settle in your chest, until a small movement in his chest caught your attention.

You pulled back slightly, confusion in your eyes. His face was soft, but his eyes shimmered with tears that hadn't yet fallen. His lips parted, searching for the right words. “How did you put up with all of that?” he whispered, a tear slipping down his right cheek. His chest seemed to tighten with the weight of the question. “What they did to you, it was the worst. I— should've found you sooner. I promise… you will not be alone anymore, okay?”

You nod, tearing up at his words. It was the first time someone made a promise to you that you knew he wouldn't break. A small smile found its way to your lips. His hands moved, fingers gently pressed against your palm as he spelled out.

"You're safe now,"

You wake up slowly, your eyes squinting as they adjust to the soft morning light spilling into the room.

Kai's arms are still wrapped around your waist, his body pressed against yours, his face nestled against your chest. You gently trace the lines of his face with your fingers, captivated by the details you never want to forget—the way his freckles and moles give his features a softness, an angelic quality. He's so beautiful. The light in a world that once felt so dark. In a life that’s often felt like a nightmare, he’s the one thing that pulled you into the almost impossible daylight.

You lean in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. He murmurs in his sleep but doesn’t stir. You smile softly at his innocence, feeling your heart flutter. You try to untangle your legs from his, hesitant to leave the safety of his embrace, but you slowly make your way out of the bed.

As you step into the living room, the smell of breakfast makes your stomach rumble. You find Kai’s mom and Hiyyih already in the kitchen. The latter smiles warmly at you. “Good morning,” she greets, and you return the smile.

Breakfast is simple but comforting. The food amazing, your appetite comes back little by little with every bite.

When you’re finished, Hiyyih looks at you with a bright smile. “Want to help me with the lunch boxes?” she asks, and you nod eagerly. She helps you slip on an apron, her fingers fumbling with the straps as she giggles. It's contagious, and makes you smile.

She pulls her hair back into a ponytail, a few strands fall loose, and you reach for your notepad. You quickly scribble, Let me braid your hair?

Hiyyih’s eyes widen with delight, and she nods. You gather her hair gently, carefully weaving the strands together. A soft smile spread across her face at the comforting touch of your hands.

Kai stretched his arm to your side, but the space was empty.

His eyes snapped open, sleep quickly fading as he registered the absence of your presence. He sat up abruptly, fumbling to slide his feet into his house slippers, the soft padding of his steps barely audible as he hurried out of the room.

Where could you have gone? Has someone come to take you home? His thoughts raced, each one more frantic than the last. He barely noticed the cold air of the hallway as he hurried toward the kitchen—then he stopped, heart halting in his chest.

There you were.

The tension melted away as he took in the scene. You stood at the counter, laughter spilling from your lips as you helped Hiyyih pack three lunch boxes. The soft fabric of an apron hugged your frame, and his mother moved gracefully beside you, pouring cups of steaming chocolate milk, a soft smile gracing her lips as she watched the two of you.

Your eyes found his, and the world seemed to slow. A smile softened your features as you raised a hand, signing a simple "Hi," and motioning for him to come closer.

"Good morning," Kai murmured. His heart swelled at the scene before him—three women who meant the world to him. "Morning, Mom."

The two watched as Kai closed the small distance between you and him. He softly placed his hands on your shoulders, the touch gentle. Then, he leaned down, pressing a light, quick kiss to the top of your head. His small act makes you blush.

"Good morning, Son," his mother interrupts warmly, passing him a plate of pancakes and sausages. "Y/N and Hiyyih have already eaten. Here’s your breakfast."

Kai took his seat, the clatter of cutlery mingling with the soft sounds of your and Hiyyih’s giggles. His mother, ever attentive, placed a notepad on the counter, making sure nothing was lost in translation as she communicated with you.

If you truly want to express something, you’ll find a way. And if you want to say even more, you’ll learn, until your heart speaks louder than words ever could.

It was the first time you were in a car, heading to school, and there was a grin you couldn’t wipe from your face.

Everything felt lighter today—the warmth of Hiyyih’s arm gently looping around yours, and every now and then, Kai’s glance in the rearview mirror caught yours.

Last night seemed to burn away, slipping from your mind like smoke on the breeze. The car pulled up, and you all said your goodbyes to Kai’s mom, her lips warm against your cheek as she kissed you. “What food would you like later?” Her question made you pull her into a tight hug, surprising her with the warmth you hadn’t known you had in you. It's true, that if you surround yourself with better people, you'll be better too.

It felt like everyone in school was watching, but you didn’t mind. Kai’s hand in yours felt so right, and Hiyyih was chatting away beside you, making everything feel like a dream. When the time came for Hiyyih to part ways, she also kissed your cheek with a smile, waving goodbye.

Kai’s eyes were on you, a smirk tugging at his lips as you laughed softly. He loved seeing you so light, so happy. When he walked you to your class, you bumped into Taehyun, who ruffled your hair with a grin and a gentle pat on the head. You felt like he already knew, given that his stare much more concerned than it ever was.

Is this what it feels like to be part of something? What a family is supposed to feel like?

You washed your hands in the sink, the corners of your lips still tugged into a faint smile. But the moment was cut short when a splash of cold water hit you, soaking your uniform. You gasped, the fabric clinging uncomfortably to your skin. You only know two people who find joy in these acts. Turning quickly, you saw Chae-won and Yun-jin standing there, flanked by three other girls whose names you didn’t even know but who were always with them.

“Are you done living your life like a victim?” Chae-won’s voice rang out, sharp and biting. A few other students in the bathroom froze, unsure of what to do, before slipping out the door, desperate to avoid being caught in the middle.

“Go home,” she spat, her glare searing. “I’m not letting my mother deal with trash like you.”

Your chest tightened, but you refused to show it. You held her gaze for a beat longer than you thought you could, then turned to leave. The quicker you got out of their sight, the better. You don't want to waste your energy on dealing with her. But before you could make it to the door, two of them grabbed your arms roughly and shoved you back.

“Go home now,” one of them hissed. “Or I’ll make sure everyone knows just how pathetic you really are.”

Something inside you snapped. The words stung, but your hand moved faster than your thoughts. The slap echoed in the tiled bathroom. Chae-won’s face twisted in shock before anger overtook her features. She lunged, pushing you into a cubicle. Her hands tangled in your hair as you tried to fight back, her nails digging into your arm as you struggled to block her strikes.

They always kept it hidden, their cruelty tucked away in the shadows—behind the closed doors of your home, in the quiet corners of the art room, places where no one else would see. Never here. Never out in the open like this. These were the same people you once looked at with longing, the ones you dreamed would someday call you their friend.

Tears blurred your vision as you struggled to catch your breath. The sharp ache in your scalp subsided when Chae-won was suddenly yanked off you, her grip torn away by a rough hand.

Hiyyih. Your eyes widened as you saw her, fierce and blazing with anger. “Get the fuck away from my sister, bitch!” she screamed, face cracking with rage. Before Chae-won could recover, Hiyyih kicked her hard on her thigh, her fury igniting as she saw the blood smeared across your arms.

Another girl was with her, someone you vaguely recognized, stepping in to help. Suddenly, it was three against five, chaos erupting in the cramped bathroom.

Hiyyih glared daggers at Yun-jin, voice trembling with raw emotion. “You think you can just hurt people? You think you’re strong because you can?”

The bathroom erupted into noise—shouting, scuffling, and the sound of feet scrambling for safety. Students crowded at the doorway, peeking in with wide eyes, while others bolted to find a teacher. You stayed close to Hiyyih, your chest tight with fear. What if they hurt her the way they hurt you?

You felt yourself shoved against the counter in the commotion, your pulse pounding in your ears. And then, cutting through the chaos, you saw them. Three figures pushed their way through the crowd, pushing onlookers, unconcerned that this was a girls’ bathroom.

Kai. Beomgyu. Taehyun.

Everything seemed to blur as Kai desperately reached you, pulling you close against his chest. His arms wrapped around you, steady and protective, shielding you from anyone.

“Enough!” Beomgyu shouts. “This ridiculous cat fight ends now.”

Kai’s hands cupped your face, his touch trembling as he scanned your cuts and bruises. His jaw tightened, his eyes dark with anger and fear. His eyes check his sister, now standing between Beomgyu and Taehyun. He exhaled sharply, pulling you behind him, his body a wall between you and the rest of the room.

“Stop this,” he said coldly, his words directed at Chae-won, who was fixing her hair with a smug expression. "This is your last warning—stay away from her.”

Chae-won sneered, venom dripping from her voice. “Why do you keep protecting that… thing?” she spat. “She’s abnormal. She can’t hear. She made us miserable. She’s selfish, always making everything about her. She plays the victim like it’s a sport.”

Her words made Hiyyih surged forward, ready to strike, but Taehyun held her back with a firm grip.

“Are you fucking serious right now?” Chae-won blinked, startled by the harshness in Kai's tone—a tone so unlike the boy known for his warmth and kindness. “She’s the best person to ever walk these grounds,” Kai adds, eyes locked on Chae-won. “She’s everything you’ll never be.”

You tried to step out from behind him, to meet Chae-won’s glare head-on, but Kai’s arm gently stopped you, keeping you behind him, his body a wall between you and her cruelty.

“If anyone here isn’t normal, it’s you. Never her.”

For the first time, Chae-won’s smirk faltered, her confidence visibly shaken. Her eyes dart between Hiyyih, Beomgyu and Taehyun. They all look at her in disdain.

Her mind raced, her thoughts spiralling back to the words her mother had drilled into her—how you were less, how people would never care about you. But now—these people—they were standing with you, like they would shield you from anything that came your way. It made her gulp. She bolts outside, Yun-jin was hot on her heels, matching her pace. The other girls had already disappeared.

For the first time, she was afraid—of the consequences that might happen if she ever dared to hurt you again.

“You don’t have to forgive them, you know?” Kai says, his shoulder brushes against yours, as you both sit, legs dangling off the edge of the makeshift bench in the yard. The watermelon ice cream in your hand drips slightly, the heat of the sun melting it. His sister and mother are out of the house, shopping for tonight's supper.

“It’s okay to take your time,” he adds, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “Or never forgive them at all. You can stay here with us for as long as you want. There’s no rush to figure everything out.”

You shift your feet, wiggling your toes against the warm wood beneath you. Both of you are still in the loose, comfortable clothes you threw on after rolling out of bed. No shoes, no plans—It’s a Saturday—your first weekend here.

You look at him, and the light catches his face. A small smile tugs at your lips as you sign, “You know, I’ve never given you a proper nickname.”

Kai pauses mid-bite, blinking at you in surprise at your random words. “Huh?” he mumbles around the end of his ice cream. “What do you mean?”

You let out a soft laugh, your hands moving fluidly as you explain, “Since calling out your name in sign language takes a little more effort, it’s better to give you a nickname. Something simple but special, something that means ‘you.’”

Kai’s heart stutters in his chest. How was it possible that every time he saw you sign, it felt like the first time all over again? "Wha- what would you call me?"

You smile, a little shy. You’d thought of this nickname days ago, waiting for the right moment to share it. “Diamond,” you sign, your hands forming the shape—your thumb and index finger meet to form the letter D, before tracing an elegant upward motion, like a sparkle.

Kai’s breath catches. His chest feels tight, like his heart is swelling too big for the space it’s in. Diamond. The way you did it, the way it looked—it felt intimate. "It’s beautiful."

You smile softly at him, and his entire world shifts. “I can’t hear your voice, but I see it. You shine the brightest when you’re making music. That’s when you look the coolest, like you’re untouchable… like a diamond. But even then, I don’t feel left out when I’m with you. I never felt I don't belong when I'm with you.” Your hands falter slightly, your eyes glassy with unshed tears.

Kai watches every movement, every micro-emotion on your face. He understands every word.

He’s in love with you. Completely, helplessly.

He doesn’t need to be the doctor to diagnose his own symptoms, a teacher to put his feelings into words, or to be the scientist to prove his theory. None of those roles matters because—these things will never speak as loud as his heart. He loves you. And with every moment he spends knowing you, he finds himself falling even deeper.

And now, he can give you his music—something he once thought was beyond him. Loving you has been the easiest thing he’s ever done.

Kai's desperate need consumes him as he grabs your face, his heart racing with aching desire to kiss you. His lips crash onto yours, devouring the sweetness of your watermelon-flavoured mouth. You moan, a little sound that only fuels his need as he leans back. "You're so beautiful. I need you, please." He pulls you closer and kisses you again once you nod, unable to resist his sweet kisses. He breaks away and takes your hand, leading you. Like he always does.

You let him pull you into his room, the scent of him wrapping around you like a quiet embrace. The space feels personal—lived-in. It feels like... him.

Before you can say a word, his arms encircle you from behind, holding you close as his lips brush softly against the side of your head. His hands move slowly, sliding from your waist to your stomach. With a gentle tug, he lifts your shirt just enough to reveal the bare skin beneath. His touch is tender as his fingers graze over you, tracing delicate patterns, and caressing. Kai turns you around.

Kai's mind swirls with uncertainty. He stares into your eyes, and he signs the words that he has been holding back. "I love you." You respond by pulling him close, kissing him fiercely and tangling your fingers in his hair. Your mind is consumed by his confession, and his touches.

He pushes you onto the bed, flooding your senses with his smell. You wrap your legs around him instinctively, surprised at yourself for doing something naturally you haven't done. You're craving his touch.

"I need you," His voice is low, repeating the words. He wants to know. He wants to make sure that you're alright with this. You give a slight nod, granting him permission. He eagerly accepts, his lips crashing against yours in a frenzy of need. His hands roam your body, leaving trails of fire as he hungrily kisses down your neck. He goes down, he bites down on the fabric covering your nipples, eliciting a gasp of pleasure from you.

He gingerly lifted your shirt over your head, revealing your flushed skin. He took one of your hardened nipples into his mouth and gently sucked, watching closely as your face contorted in pleasure and your eyes fluttered shut.

He slides his hand under your silk pyjama top and gently traces the curve of your back with his fingers. He settles himself beside you, leaning as he reaches your waistband. His long fingers slip inside and finds you already wet, he spreads your lips apart and expertly flicks his finger over your clit. He adds another finger and watches your face for any signs of discomfort, peppering kisses along your cheeks as you shake your head in pleasure. Slowly, he inserts them deeper, making you grip his shoulders tightly as he stretches you.

He rolls his knuckles over your sensitive clit. With a swift movement, his hand opens like scissors, his thumb teasing your swollen nub. You let out a gasp and clutch onto his now longer hair, pulling him closer as he continues to pleasure you with his skilled fingers. Your mouths meet in a passionate kiss, his hot tongue brushing yours as he works his fingers in and out of you.

As he pulls out, you can feel his gaze on you, his eyes tracing every inch of your body. Every part of your body is beautiful.

You try to reach for his pants, but he shakes his head with a small smile. "This is all about you." He whispers, and places a kiss on your lips.

He slides into you, causing tears to escape from the corners of your eyes as you feel yourself being stretched and filled. He's so big, hot inside you. "Baby, I got you," He leans in close, his warm breath mingling with yours as he gently wipes away your tears.

Kai searches your eyes and waits for you to signal him to move again, you hummed nodding your head. He presses deeper, and the sensation makes your whole body tingle. With each thrust, he presses you further into the mattress, leaving hot kisses along your skin as his other hand finds its way back to your clit.

His lips found your ears, and he left traces of kisses. The overwhelming pleasure builds and builds until finally, you can't hold back any longer and release with a shudder. But he doesn't stop there; he continues to move inside of you groaning, pulling out before his release, he fists his erection and hot white cum comes undone on his hands. He leans down to give you a quick kiss on your forehead, smirking at your fucked out face.

Kai's touch was careful as he ran the cloth over your skin, wiping away, and cleaning you up. He worked slowly, keeping one of his hands holding your own.

When he was done, he looked up at you with that same soft smile. You feel your lips curve in response, reaching out to touch his flushed cheeks, your fingers brushing against his warm skin. The simple touch makes his smile widen into a boyish grin. You see his mouth open, saying "I love you." The same words he kept repeating over and over again even without you knowing it.

It feels unreal, like a fragile dream stitched together by your desperate mind to escape the torment of your reality. Kai doesn’t seem real—a fleeting fever dream you’re terrified will vanish the moment you wake. Your hands move almost on their own, signing the words your heart refuses to deny. "I love you too."

A floor table is set up in the yard, resting on a wide blanket with soft cushions scattered around it. Plates of food and side dishes fill the table, the space alive with chatter and laughter.

Kai sits beside you, his knee brushing yours beneath the table his hands caressing your back when no one's looking, Hiyyih is in the center, her laughter bright and infectious, while Taehyun and Beomgyu are across from you, locked in their usual back-and-forth.

Or rather, Beomgyu trying to bait Taehyun into bickering, and Taehyun rolling his eyes with amused restraint.

The sliding door opens, and Kai’s mom steps out, balancing a steaming pot in her hands. “Here comes the ramen!” she sings. The broth makes you realise just how hungry you are.

She begins ladling out bowls, and the clinking of utensils signals the start of the meal. As the first bite warms your throat, the cold night seems to retreat, replaced by the simple joy of being here, with them.

You reach out toward the dessert—ripe, glossy strawberries—but your hand freezes as you see Beomgyu grab the last one. He pauses mid-bite when he catches the longing look in your eyes. “Oh,” he says, a smirk tugging at his lips. Slowly, he pulls the fruit away from his mouth, holding it out to you with his chopsticks. “Because I’m a good guy, I’ll let you have it.”

Before you can protest, Kai reaches over with his own chopsticks and snatches the strawberry back. He shoves it into Beomgyu’s mouth, earning a muffled yelp. “You can keep it,” Kai says flatly, shooting a half-hearted glare at his friend.

Taehyun bursts out laughing, pointing at Beomgyu’s shocked expression. “He’s jealous,” he teases, his grin wide.

“I am not,” Kai snaps, cheeks betraying by giving a soft pink hue. “I just don’t want his germs spreading to Y/N.”

Beomgyu, finally swallowing the strawberry, points a dramatic finger at Kai. “You little shi—”

You laugh as Beomgyu leaps to his feet, determined to catch Kai, who’s darting away with that grin that melts your heart every time. Kai—the one who didn’t just save you from your own darkness, but who opened up his world and invited you in, piece by piece.

You sigh, not out of sadness, but happiness—a feeling slowly becoming familiar. It doesn’t feel impossible anymore.

You avoid your father’s gaze, his concerned eyes scanning you with a frown etched deep into his forehead. You shift, positioning yourself behind Kai’s broad back. You can still see your father, but having Kai in front of you makes it all feel bearable—almost safe.

Your father arrived first thing in the morning, dressed sharply in his suit, as though he hadn’t wasted a second to come get you ever since he came back.

He explained everything in a rush—what he’d done back at the house. Your stepmother was gone, and she’d taken your stepsisters with her. Without a marriage binding them, he ended it quickly, as swiftly as he’d once welcomed her into your home, believing she could be a solution, a saviour for you.

The maids who had turned a blind eye or worse—enabled the abuse—were fired on the spot. And now, he was determined to make things right—determined to press charges, to hold accountable anyone who had ever hurt you. His voice cracked when he spoke of it, the guilt etched deep into his expression.

"Would you mind if I speak for a moment?" Kai asks stance proud, and unwavering. Your father looked at him, taking in the way he stood in front of you, protective. It reminded him of the days when he had stood like that for your mother—the only woman he had truly loved.

“My mom doesn’t know any sign language,” Kai begins, “But she still talks to Y/N all the time. They understand each other perfectly.” He pauses, letting the words settle.

“That’s when I realized something,” Kai continues, his gaze unwavering. “You can say anything—anything at all—if it comes from a willing heart.” He pulls out a book. It’s a little worn around the edges, its cover creased from being used so often. It’s the same sign language book he’s been studying with you, the one he’s cherished so much.

He holds it out to your father, “I thought this might help. It’s a good place to start, so you can reach her too.” Your father takes it, his fingers brushing against the cover. His lips part, voice thick with emotion, “Thank you, Kai.” He extends his hand, and Kai shakes it firmly, a quiet understanding passing between them.

Then Kai turns to you, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. His mom and Hiyyih wrap you in tight hugs, their warmth lingering long after they let go. You haven’t even stepped outside the gate yet, but they’re already asking when you’ll come back.

You smile, trying to give them an answer, but the truth catches in your throat. The truth is, you don’t know if you can live your life without them anymore.

The trip back to your house was quiet.

You opened the doors, but no one was inside. No one inside, yet it felt more… welcoming than it ever had. You walk into your room, and are about to reach to close your bedrooms behind you. But before it shuts, your father steps inside.

“I’m sorry,” he starts, “For everything.” All you can do is nod silently, feeling the sting of tears welling in your eyes. You’ve thought about this moment a thousand times—how you would say everything you’ve kept inside, how you’d finally tell him that his silence and distance hurt more than the physical abuse they gave.

You wanted him to know what his absence caused, how it made everything worse. You wanted to shout, to let him feel the anger you’ve carried for so long. But as you hear his apology, you find yourself lacking the heart to do so. Because this moment—it’s the one you’ve been waiting for your entire whole life. For him to finally come back to you.

He takes a hesitant step closer, his hands trembling as they reach up to cup your face. His eyes that screams nothing but regret. “You’re the only one left who matters to me,” he says, “I’m so sorry I didn’t see it sooner. I promise—I’ll make it up to you. Somehow, I’ll make it right.” Before you know it, he pulls you into his arms, holding you as if he’s afraid to let go.

The two of you cry, clinging to each other in the quiet of the house. No other words are spoken. The walls that once held the echoes of your pain now bear witness to something… starting to heal.

The horrors of the past don’t, won't disappear, but they begin to blur, fading as you melt inside your father's arms. You close your eyes as you cry—broken sobs, like a child needing comfort after a big bad nightmare, tasting the salt of your own tears as they fall.

It tastes like forgiveness.

"Do you want to come with me on my next business trip?" your father signs, his hands moving carefully beside you in the car. "New York."

You smile at his effort, the clumsy yet intentional movements making him seem more approachable—so different from the figure you once knew.

"I'd love that, dad." His face lights up with your response, a genuine smile spreading across his lips. He looks relieved, maybe even proud, that he's able to communicate with you more clearly now. Your gaze drifts to the newspaper folded in his lap, the bold numbers marking the year—1996.

The car slows to a stop, signalling that you've arrived. Your father leans over, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. "See you daughter,"

You wave goodbye, stepping out onto the pavement, watching as the car pulls away. You clutch your shoulder bag, a soft smile playing on your lips—one that seems to have taken permanent residence these past few months. Your steps are light, your eyes brighter, and your heart hums a melody only you can hear.

Community for the Gifted: Advanced Sign Language

The words on the board seem almost dreamlike. A reminder that you're here. Everything that happened wasn't just a dream.

Before you can dwell on it, your bag is gently lifted from your hands. You turn, meeting his eyes—warm, full of affection. He dips his head, pressing a sweet, fleeting kiss to your lips, followed by another on your nose, and your brows.

"Hi, pretty girl," He says softly, shifting your bag to his other hand. He reaches for your free hand, fingers intertwining with yours. He squeezes it three times.

I love you.

Together, you step through the doors, hand in hand with the boy who loves you in ways you didn’t think anyone ever could. The boy who simply found you in your silent world. It amazes you—how one person can make life feel so undeniably worth living.

Huening Kai, who learned to speak your language, so you won't have to spend your lifetime translating your soul.

THE END.

taglist: i love you @.beombunni @.hyukascampfire @.yunverie @.gyu-tori @.bamgyuuuri @.saejinniestar @.xylatox @.lovingbeomgyudayone @.virtaideen @.hyunelixbun @.brrytears @.fancypeacepersona @.tyunningstar @.kejingken @.usuallyunlikelyfox @.ode2soob @.beomieeeeeeeeeeees @.lilbrorufr @.vicurious28

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dailynnt · 2 months ago

Text

NO MERCY PART I: The dark pulls you under

𖥔 Summary: You are a strong and intelligent, a princess of a mafia clan who has been fighting for years against Jungkook, a dangerous and powerful enemy. Your enmity is mixed with tension and mutual desire. After you ruin an important deal for him, Jungkook kidnaps you to settle the score. An emotional confrontation erupts between you, where the power play borders on a dangerous attraction. But you both know that the first one to give in is the loser.

𖥔 Couple: Jeon Jungkook/ The Reader, Jungkook/Y/N

𖥔 Age restrictions: 18+

𖥔 Size: mini series (7.6 k words)

𖥔 Tags: enemies to lovers, mafia au, domJungkook/subReader, stockholm syndrome, dark romance, kidnapping, emotional tension, obsession, possessive behaviour, dangerous love, protectiveness, forced proximity, broken characters, betrayal, manipulation, slow burn, angst with a hint of love, toxic romance, redemption arc, intense connection, forbidden feelings, survival, rough tenderness, detailed smut, sex, unprotected sex, table sex, mirror sex, possessiveness, defiance

𖥔 From author: Hello dear Army 💜 I wrote a new story in the style of the mafia au, which as you know I love very much 🖤 I came up with this story while writing chapter 14 “One night…” (this is how it happens when in the middle of the creative process a scene for a separate story appears in my head) and I decided to write it. I really hope you like it 🥺 A big request for those who will read and at some point you don't like my fanfic, or it seems illogical, not interesting or too fictional - just pass by. Respect the effort, time and resources I have spent for those people who will really appreciate my efforts. I sincerely thank EVERYONE who likes this fic, and EVERYONE who likes my work, I appreciate each of you for the weight of gold 🥺😭❤️‍🔥

𖥔 Dedication: I want to dedicate this work to you my BIGGEST LOVE @curse-of-art 🖤 For your support, endless love, faith in me, in the love of my version of JK 🤭 I love you with all my big heart ❤️‍🔥

𖥔 Warning: This story contains dark themes that may be triggering for some readers like table sex, mirror sex, possessiveness, defiance/bratty behavior, stockholm syndrome, and kidnapping. Please read with caution. If you are under 18, please refrain from reading this story. Also, English is not my first language, so you may notice some grammar mistakes or awkward sentence structures. I appreciate your understanding and kindness 🙂‍↕️

You have never asked for mercy. And you certainly weren't going to beg for it now.

Some time ago, you woke up and realized that you were in a dimly lit hotel room. It seemed to be a presidential suite, and you probably knew who it belonged to.

You were sitting tied to a chair, your hands tied behind your back, and a sneer playing on your lips. You knew who was coming. You knew this meeting was inevitable.

Jungkook entered the room quietly, but you felt him before you saw him. His presence was like an impending storm, like an electric shock in the air before a thunderstorm.

"Well, finally." You looked up at him when he came into view. "I was getting tired of waiting for you."

Tall, broad-shouldered, with a palm covered in tattoo ink that peeked out from under the sleeve of his shirt colour of night.

You knew that most of the drawings were hidden under his clothes. Once you could only see his tattoos up to his elbow, and you always wondered how they ended.

You remember how the tiger lily on the inside of his arm caught your attention the most - delicate, but as bold as he was. It was his birth flower, a symbol of pride, nobility, and strength hidden behind a reserved expression.

His light colored hair was slicked back carelessly, and above his ear it was shaved, so you could see that his hair color was actually black. This hairstyle emphasized his sharp features and jaw that could cut through the tension in the air. The black earrings in his ears glittered with every movement.

"You made a mistake, Y/N." He was approaching like lava, slowly burning everything in his path. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, but you had to behave with dignity.

"Really? From my side, it looked like a perfectly planned trap." You said, hinting at the reason you were here. You smiled at the corner of your mouth. You didn't want to show this man how he affected you.

He crouched down in front of you. He smelled of cold freshness after a shower, mixed with something more personal - the tart scent of leather and spices.

There was a slight hint of bergamot in his scent, subtly mixed with the smell of black tea and a little wood, something deep and rich. There was also a faint trace of musk, the kind that made the skin react as if it had just been touched.

This scent was not intrusive, but dangerous in its restraint, just like him. It was the kind of scent that would stay on your pillow, on your fingers, on the inside of your wrist if you let it get close enough.

"And who is trapped now?" he asked. You smiled as you looked into his black eyes.

"Caught doesn’t mean defeated." You say and see his gaze boring into your lips. Your breathing instantly became uncontrollable.

You've always played this game. You made him lose control. He made you feel your body burning with anger. You wanted to break him, he wanted to conquer you.

But predators don't subdue. They either win or die.

You remember the moment when everything went wrong. You were sitting in the VIP lounge of the club, waiting for your sister to celebrate your brilliant victory. The deal that Jungkook wanted so badly was now yours. That's when the door slammed open, and they came for you.

Everything happened in a flash. People in black suits easily dealt with your bodyguards. They grabbed you, clamped your mouth, tied your hands, and in a few minutes you were sitting in a car. Without a word. Without the right to choose. And only then did you realize...

Jungkook is angry. Really angry. And then the prick in your neck and the darkness.

He stared at you for a long time, too long. Jungkook towered over you before he spoke. His voice was low and steady, but it vibrated with a dangerous note that sent a chill down your spine.

"You have no idea how much trouble you've caused me." His voice sounded calm, but it was seeping with menace.

You just tilted your head slightly, playfully, with a self-assurance that irritated him.

"If you're talking about how I took the deal with the Japanese partners away from you, I was expecting more fireworks, to be honest."

Something dark flashed in his eyes, something you'd seen many times before - rage hidden beneath an icy mask of control.

You and Jungkook had never been friends. You had known each other for years, but you had always been on opposite sides of the war.

You were the princess of the “Violet Dragons” clan. Your parents were the leaders of the clan, so from childhood, you knew what the world of shadows was and how to survive in it.

Your family controlled part of the city’s illegal business — casinos, underground clubs, and exclusive weapons trade.

You grew up smart, cunning, and ruthless, just like your parents, who unfortunately became victims of mafia conflicts.

You possessed that dangerous beauty that made men forget you could destroy them with a smile on your lips.

You remember well when Jungkook appeared. It was when your uncle took over the clan and you became his right-hand man.

He saw your potential, trusted your sharp mind and strategic thinking. In the mafia world, a woman could not officially lead, but she could guide. And you did it brilliantly. You became an integral part of the top of your family's clan. You planned. You acted. You played the game.

And Jungkook... He immediately established himself as a strong player. He didn't just enter the business, he took full control of it. His name quickly became the law. His word was a verdict. No one worked in this city without his permission. Those who wanted to stay alive bowed their heads to him.

But not you.

You never bowed your head.

Even though your uncle wanted to cooperate with Jungkook, you were against it. You saw him as a threat. Not a partner.

Instead of submitting to his sudden and overwhelming power, you fought for your place, taking away his contracts, disrupting his deals. You've been fighting this war for years - over people, over money, over power.

But something more than just hatred has been burning between you all along.

Your gazes lingered longer than they should have. Your conversations were always too intense, too provocative.

Your bodies were always too close when you met at formal events.

You knew he wanted you.

He knew you wanted him.

But neither of you could allow it.

Because as soon as someone submits, this game is over.

But here you are. You're tied up in his hands. Completely at his mercy. Jungkook looks at your face and for a moment he thinks that everything you did was on purpose. In order to be here with him, giving him the opportunity to destroy you.

"You think you're here because you blew my deal?" Jungkook grabbed the arms of the chair, squeezing them so hard that his fingers turned white. His face came closer to yours. "It's not the business, Y/N. It's you. You crossed the line." He growled. You tried to remain indifferent, but somewhere deep inside you, something trembled.

"What are you talking about?" You asked, putting on a dramatic tone. His smile was dangerous. He had seen you play too many times.

"You know what I mean. Last night, your little performance..." He explains. Before you could answer, he abruptly lifted you up with the chair, leaning forward so that your faces were almost level. His breath touched your lips.

"You made a fool of me. In front of everyone. My credibility has been undermined... You're overplay, princess." He sounded threatening, dangerous.

"This is business, Jungkook." You said, using his words, the ones he said to you every time he took a good deal or partner from under your nose. You sounded mocking, but he shook his head.

"No, princess. It was a game you played with me without thinking about the consequences."

You were silent, not knowing what to say. The smile that was on your face a moment ago disappeared. Of course, you knew that sooner or later he would realize that the deal that had been broken was your doing, but so soon?

He turned away, sat you back down, and walked a few steps away. He took off his jacket, then his watch. He threw it on the edge of the huge sofa. You watched his movements and could feel the tension between you growing.

You couldn't let him do anything to you. You had to get out of here. You had to save yourself. So while he wasn't looking, you tried to untie the rope. You were trained to do that. The world of the mafia required you to be strong and able to defend yourself.

Jungkook turned to face you and started to roll up his sleeves. The tattoos caught your attention, and he noticed it. But why was he rolling up his sleeves? Was he preparing to torture you? Or did he have something else in mind?

"I was standing two meters away. And I was looking into your eyes." he laughed softly, almost hysterically, not believing that you could pull off such a scam, "The same ones that are looking at me so brazenly now." His voice surprisingly sounded silky, dangerously soft.

You froze. The events of the previous evening flashed through your mind, the moment you stole the deal he'd been working on for two years from under his nose.

Jungkook had been negotiating hard with Kaizen Securities, a Japanese corporation that would have given him monopoly control of one of the largest illegal arms supply channels in Seoul. This deal was supposed to raise his status to the level of "untouchable" among all other players.

Since you had a long-standing rivalry with Jungkook, you planted a spy in his clan, who worked successfully for three years. You followed the negotiation process, which Minhyuk reported to you, carefully studying all the details.

You decided to do the following: let Jungkook almost finish the job, and then take back what was yours from the beginning. What your family lost when Jungkook arrived in the criminal arena.

Your last move was on the day the contract was signed. You used a fake identity, the name Hanako Shimada, and introduced yourself as an assistant to one of the Japanese directors, specializing in translation, negotiation, and legal support.

You arrived at the hotel where the meeting was taking place with the delegation, bribing the real assistant, who was "suddenly" hospitalized. You thought out your image to the smallest detail, so that it had nothing to do with your usual style, so that Jungkook would not recognize you.

You were dressed in a white business suit, with lenses, makeup, hairstyle, gait, even your voice slightly altered. You spoke flawless Japanese (because you lived in Japan until you were 16). Your accent was perfect. You played the role of an official - restrained, without a hint of your characteristic audacity.

You looked convincing to the last detail. Who would have suspected?

"I heard your voice." His voice darkened with each word. "Heard you translate every phrase, calmly, dryly, perfectly. Saw you hiding in a white suit and pretending to be someone else."

You were so confident and competent in your performance that he saw you as just another functional "gray mouse" and missed the punch right under his ribs. And now that he's already caught you, when he looks at you, he remembers everything - your gait, your eyes, the slight tilt of your head, the subtle smile - everything was right there in front of him, and he didn't see it.

He rolled up his sleeves and approached again, towering over you. Jungkook looked at you with his black eyes piercingly.

"You set me up, and I don't understand how I couldn't see you play, not recognize you..."

You looked at him silently. Your heart was beating somewhere in your throat, but your face was impeccably calm. He had just admitted that you had defeated him. That you hadn't just taken the contract - you had misled him so that he didn't recognize you from a few meters away.

You couldn't contain your triumph. You slowly raised an eyebrow and with a slight smile, said.

"It turns out I'm a really good actress."

You changed the terms of the deal behind Jungkook's back, telling the Japanese that he would not provide security guarantees. Posing as a trustee of a fictitious investor, you offered better terms: higher profits and security. The Japanese believed you and signed the contract right in his presence.

How sweet it was to see him humiliated in front of the Japanese, because he didn't recognize the manipulation and lost a lucrative contract.

Jungkook's eyes narrowed, his jaw twitched, but you continued, quietly, as if afraid to break the silence.

"And you, Jungkook, have become overconfident. You used to always see everything..."

His eyes darted between yours, sliding down to your lips, then to your neck, then to your thigh, which was visible through the long slit in your dress. You could almost physically feel his gaze touching your body.

His eyes returned to you.

"Are you laughing at me?"

"No," you answered evenly. "I'm just reminding you who's had the upper hand in this game from the beginning."

You paused, still fumbling with the rope, and then said with poisonous tenderness.

"What did you think? That you could play on my turf for years, promise the Japanese control of the port my family has owned since my father's time, and I would keep quiet?"

His pupils dilated.

"You knew about the port?"

"I knew everything. Even which of your men had been leaking information to the Japanese." You were silent for a moment, savoring his defeat, and then spoke. "I won fair and square, Jungkook. I took what was rightfully mine."

"Fair?" He laughed, but there was nothing merry about it. "You played dirty. You lied, you bribed people, you made my partners change his mind." He runs his eyes over your face and almost can't control himself. Your self-confidence in your victory has made him angry.

You lift your chin proudly.

"So what? This is our world, isn't it? A world where the strongest take what they want by any means necessary." You argument. Jungkook leans in so that your lips almost touch.

"Yes, but the difference is that I'm stronger. And now you will play by my rules." His fingers touched your face, and you held your breath.

"And what are these rules?" You asked. Jungkook smiled, slowly, predatory.

"I'll show you. But first you have to understand one thing..." His fingers closed on your jaw, forcing you to look directly into his dark eyes.

"Because of your stunt, you are now at my mercy. And believe me, you will not be spared." He almost whispered it to you. You felt his breath on your lips. Your heart beat faster.

His fingers slid down and stopped at your throat. He didn't squeeze, he just touched, making you feel how close the edge was. His gaze slowly moved down, studying you, as if he was already deciding how you should obey him.

Jungkook suddenly turned away, held you with a cold gaze, and then walked away. You continued your struggle with the rope. A little more and you would be free.

He walked over to the table where there was a bottle of whiskey and a glass. He wasn’t in a hurry. He poured it slowly and turned to you, taking a sip. He liked knowing that this time, you wouldn’t run away. He didn't take his eyes off you. You didn't take your eyes off him.

Jungkook sat down on the sofa, drinking a honey-colored liquid. He sating across from you, looking at you calmly, as if he had won the battle in the end.

"I never thought I'd see you in such a helpless situation." His voice was low, savoring every word. He took another sip without hiding his smile. You clenched your jaw, not letting yourself show the fear that was still present, even though you tried to hide it deep inside.

"Enjoying?" You asked ironically, but your eyes were full of anger.

Jungkook twirled his glass in his hands and smiled, slowly, too confidently.

"You know what's the most interesting thing?" He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I could have put a stop to your antics a long time ago."

You snorted. The laugh came easily from your plump lips.

"You could have tamed me much sooner? But you only did it when I made a fool of you?" You said through your laughter.

Jungkook didn't answer right away. He just looked at you, calmly, without taking his eyes off you, and there was something frightening in that look. Not brute aggression, but cold calculation. He enjoyed your resistance, knew that you would fight to the last - and that was what amused him.

"No. I was just wondering how far you could go. And now you've made your choice, princess." He finally said, twirling the glass in his fingers. "You played with fire, not realizing it could burn you." Jungkook took a sip of alcohol. He tasted the honeyed flavor, and smiled at the corner of his lips.

"Tell me honestly, you didn't think I was going to ignore this trick of yours like all the times before, did you? Let you play with me as you please?"

You lifted your chin sharply, even now not letting him see your weakness.

"You want to break me just because I defeated you?" you challenged. "Then you're much weaker than you look."

Something much darker flashed in his eyes. He put the glass on the nightstand, stood up and came closer.

"Do you think you've defeated me?" Jungkook repeated quietly, leaning in once more so that your faces were almost touching.

He always violated your personal space. He liked to keep you close, so close that you didn't have time to collect your thoughts.

"If it was really a victory, then why are you here - tied up, without any control over the situation, instead of celebrating your success?" his voice dropped to a velvety whisper, and every word penetrated your skin.

You pressed your lips together.

"You know it well. I'm not afraid of you, Jungkook," you said firmly.

He smiled, his eyes sliding over your face, and he straightened up. He liked to look down on you. His imagination painted scenes of you kneeling perfectly before him, and he looked down on you the same way. Something in his middle caught fire at the thought of your mouth on his cock.

But he calmed himself as quickly as he could and walked around you, standing behind you. You stopped untying the rope and clasped your hands together so he wouldn't see that it was loose.

Jungkook leaned down to your ear and said.

"This is good," he whispered. "Because fear is chaos. And I need order."

His fingers touched your neck, and you flinched. At his touch.

He slowly touched the collar of your dress, letting the fabric slip slightly off your shoulder. Your skin burned where his fingers had left a mark.

"It's time to teach you something really important."

"Ha-ha, teach? What can you teach me?" you asked with undisguised interest.

"Submission," Jungkook replied. The word came out of his mouth as easily as a breath. But there was power in it. A power that was frightening. "Submission." He repeated it almost gently, stroking your collarbone with his fingertips. "It's something you haven't known yet, but I'll take care of it." You felt indignation rising inside you.

"You're doing this again?" You said as if it were boring. "I'll never be yours, Jungkook." He smiled in a way that made you feel hot.

"Oh, don't you get it yet?" His voice was almost playful, but there was a metallic tinge of control in the deep timbre. "You are already mine, princess."

Jungkook was in front of you again. His hand grabbed your chin sharply, forcing you to look him straight in the eye.

"Every fight between us, every moment when you woke up and thought about me, hating it... It all meant only one thing. You've always belonged to me."

Your breathing became heavier. And this time... you really felt that you were starting to suffocate, not just from fear. But also from confusing feelings that you shouldn't have felt.

He was taking over. He control a situation as a usual. But you hadn't lost yet.

All your emotions rushed out - and it was at that moment that you managed to escape. The rope slipped from your hands, and you hit him sharply, creating space for escape. His reaction was instantaneous, but you were already flying toward the door, half out of breath, consumed by a single desire-freedom.

Your hand almost touched the handle when Jungkook's fingers grabbed your wrist. You turned around, trying to strike, but he easily dodged. Your next move, a kick, was blocked.

In a second, you were pinned against a cold wall. Jungkook forced your arms behind your back, squeezing them to prevent you from breaking free. His body was pressed against you, and you could feel the warmth of his chest pressing against your back. His crotch was touching your buttocks, and your legs were locked with his.

"Want a fight?" he laughed low, touching your ear. You were both breathing heavily.

"Let go of me and I'll kick your ass in seconds Jeon," you said angrily. You suddenly felt his cock resting on your buttocks. He was aroused by your little fight.

"I think we'd better take this passion elsewhere," Jungkook said seductively, and he pressed in closer so you could feel the hardness of his cock even better. It was only then that you noticed a throbbing between your legs. And moisture was leaking onto your underwear. It was foolish not to admit that his proximity excited you as much as it excited him.

"You'll never have me, you bastard," you said, in defiance of your feelings.

Jungkook turned you around in one confident motion, still holding you so you couldn't hurt him. He smiled when he saw your hateful gaze. But you're pretending. He knows you want him.

"Oh, I can have you anytime. But you want it too, don't you princess?" he said, licking his lower lip. You stare at his lips, mesmerized. Fuck. You want to kiss him.

Jungkook finally let go of your hands, confident that you wouldn't fight anymore. He ran his fingers along your figure, lowering his hands to your hips. He slid his hand under your dress and squeezed your skin lightly. His touch was confident, almost possessive. Your hands rested on his chest, as if trying to push him, but your fingers dug into the fabric of his shirt.

"You're shaking, Y/N." He spoke softly, his voice hoarse and hot, seeping into your mind, making your heart beat even faster than before.

"You overestimate your influence over me." You tried to sound confident, but your voice trembled treacherously. "I will never play by your rules."

"But tonight you will," he lifted you by the hips, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist, and carried you to the table behind him. You felt the cold surface against your skin and only then realized how hot you were from what was happening between you.

Jungkook was breathing heavily, barely able to control himself. He suddenly smiled, pressing you tighter to his aroused cock.

"Give me a few minutes and I'll break you." He was serious. His lips barely touched your neck, taking his time, leaving no marks, just burning you with his hot breath. You could feel his palms resting steadily on your buttocks, his fingers flesh squeezing to remind you that the power was his.

"Why don't you push me away, princess?" He whispered it right next to your ear, his voice breaking into hot pulses that ran through your entire body.

Your fingers clenched into fists. You should have resisted. You should have told him it was a game, that he wouldn't make you submit. But when his lips finally touched your neck, when his hot lips sucked in your tender skin, leaving marks, you lost the ability to think.

"You've been playing strong for so long that you've forgotten what it's like to just give in." He said when he had left enough hickeys on your neck. His voice was quiet, but it filled the entire space between you.

You didn't like the feeling of being under his control. But what you didn't like even more was how much you wanted it. You squeezed his shirt, as if balancing the desire to push him away and pull him closer.

"Tell me I'm wrong..." His lips stopped right next to yours. You met his gaze. Full of lust, full of power to conquer.

"I..." You paused, inhaled. Your pride dissolved, burned under that look. "...I hate you."

Jungkook smiled.

"Little liar."

His lips finally covered yours, sharply, all-consuming, so that you forgot how to breathe. It was an invasion. A struggle.

You squeezed his shoulders, trying to hold back - but your lips responded. At first it was a protest. Then it was an explosion. The kiss became deeper, hotter, as if you were both surrendering to all the emotions that had been building up for so long and burning from the inside.

His tongue penetrated you without asking for permission, just like everything else he did. And you... didn't stop him. Because you wanted it too. You wanted it.

He tore the zipper of your dress open and it gathered at your hips. The sight of your perfectly taut breasts, erect nipples, and goosebumps made Jungkook want more. He uncontrollably took one of your breasts in his hands and squeezed it. His wet tongue circled around your bud, tasting the pleasant taste of your nipples.

You were moaning above his head, just from his caresses, so what would you sound like when he entered you? When he fills you to the brim?

"Feel that?" His voice was husky, heavy with desire. You didn't know what he was asking specifically, whether it was his hard cock resting against your needy pussy or his power over you. But you felt it all. His strength. His desire. His complete control over your every move. "You've always belonged to me." He whispered it right next to your ear, breaking into a hot breath.

His hands, which had been under your dress, boldly reached for your underwear. He stopped, his lips still touching yours.

"Are you finally admitting it, princess?"

Silence. Only your breaths. The pulse in your temples. Hot air, saturated with tension. But you didn't say anything. Are you really losing this war that has lasted so long?

His hand moved your underwear to the side. Your body shuddered as he ran his fingers between the damp folds, easily finding a spot that made you sigh softly.

Jungkook smiled triumphantly. He massaged your clit, with slow, blissful strokes. When he plunged a finger into your passage, you grabbed his free hand, squeezing it.

"So wet... Fuck, you're just dripping onto my fingers, baby." He whispered. In between kissing your neck, your jaw, your breasts. He wanted to explore every inch of your body with his lips.

Jungkook added another finger to your passage and fucked you with it. He created a friction that made you want to feel something more.

"I want to hear that…Tell me I won." He demanded. His voice was full of power, he knew you belonged to him completely.

You opened your eyes and met his gaze, heavy and piercing. And you had to surrender. You had to admit it. You belonged to him completely and utterly. You wanted to be his. You fucking wanted this man to fuck you.

"You win, Kook. I'm yours." You whispered. He stretched you, plunged into every cell of your body, took you over, made you forget where you were, who you were, and why you'd ever tried to resist.

His movements became deeper, more confident. And you couldn't fight anymore-your hands reached for the buttons of his shirt, and you pulled them open randomly, wanting to tear them off.

Jungkook slipped his fingers out of your passage and helped you undress him. In the dim light of the suite, his body was so hot and sexy. His skin was perfect, every muscle as if carved by God himself.

You gulped in a breath, as your eyes touched his torso. Elastic, well-defined chest, broad shoulders. His abs, like marble, consisted of perfect lines that stretched down, right to the place where your imagination was already drawing the most daring images.

Your fingers reached for his body, sliding over his hot skin. Now you knew what his tattoos looked like, the ones that were always hidden behind his clothes.

There was ink that seemed to come to life under your touch. First, you noticed the words "Rather be dead than cool" tattooed in italics on his forearm, a phrase that perfectly matched his personality: bold, unrestrained, living to the fullest.

Above, on his wrist, was a delicate drawing of a tiger and a lotus, symbolizing strength and purity - a contrast similar to his own.

And on his shoulder was a large black flower, and your palm slid over it, gently, almost reverently.

You barely had time to enjoy the sight of it when Jungkook pulled off your dress and then simply tore open your thin black lace thong. You gasped, not expecting such behavior from Jungkook, but it seemed he was losing patience.

He had a sly smile on his face. His eyes never left yours, hungry, dark, and without mercy.

"You know, princess... Now that you're mine, I'm going to make sure you can never forget this moment."

He knelt between your legs. His gaze slid down to your center and he licked his lips like a predator who had finally gotten his prey.

His tongue slid over your folds, gently at first, exploring, making you arch with pleasure, and then deeper, harder, rhythmically, until your moans became shameless. His hands held your hips tightly, not letting you escape, not letting you even think about resisting. He worked his tongue as if he could drive you crazy with it alone, and damn it, he did.

Your stomach was in a knot, wave after wave passing through your body, making you squirm and gasp. You grabbed his hair, trying to hold back, but...

"Fuck..." you cursed, barely recognizing your own voice.

He lifted his head, his lips glistening with your wetness. He flicked his tongue across his lower lip, tasting you. His chest heaved rhythmically, He was on the verge, just like you.

"I can't wait any longer," he said hoarsely and stood up, shedding the rest of his clothes. His cock was hard, tense, ready for you.

You didn't look away. It was perfect. Big. Erect. And all yours.

He pulled you closer to the edge of the table, supporting you under your buttocks, and ran his head between your folds. Just teasing. Just playing.

"Tell me again. Who do you belong to?"

You clutched his forearm, your nails digging into his skin, your body trembling with anticipation.

"You... Jungkook. I belong to you."

"Good girl."

You thought Jungkook was going to take you right now. He was teasing you with those movements of his cock on your clit, but he didn't come in. You weren't expecting it when he pulled back and pulled you to the floor. Your buttocks were resting on the table, and in a moment Jungkook turned you around, bending you over the table.

Your breasts were on the table, your hands resting on the perfectly polished surface. Your hot breath left condensation.

Jungkook came up behind you, pressed the head of his cock against your entrance, and thrust. You felt him penetrate. He had barely plunged into you when you screamed in pain. He stopped when he felt you were in pain. You were tighty, he could feel it as he stretched you.

"How long since you had sex?" he asked in a low voice. You pressed your fingers tighter to the table, so that they turned white. Jungkook moved back and forth, as if breaking through an invisible barrier.

"It's been a long time," you breathed out, but your voice sounded sharp, like the thorns on a beautiful rose. Jungkook smiled, still moving lightly at the entrance. He stroked your thighs, soothing you.

"When was the last time?" he asked. You raised your eyebrows, why was he asking? You should talk less and act more. Even though you were in pain, you needed him inside.

"What the hell does it matter, just come in," you couldn't stand it. You heard Jungkook's guttural laugh. And then his hand was right in front of your eyes. He leaned down and touched your cheek with his lips.

"You're not supposed to be a virgin, are you?" his voice vibrated against your skin, making you tremble inside. His cock was still in your passage, but not fully penetrating.

"Don't even dream about being my first, I had sex before you," you said indignantly. You turned your head a few centimeters. You saw Jungkook's lips and it was at that moment that you felt him enter you completely. It was not very sharp, but you screamed.

Jungkook plunged into you until his hips felt yours. His balls touched your pussy and he froze, still leaning over you. You were breathing hard and fast, feeling pain, but it was being replaced by the pleasure of being filled with his cock.

"You're such a tight princess that even if you did have sex, that idiot had a small cock." he laughed again. "Who was that?" he moved his hips and you bit your lip to keep from screaming again. "Your assistant Dongmin, or was it In-guk, that piece of shit who was always hanging around you?"

Jungkook moved his hips slowly but deeply. He was careful, and you could tell he didn't want to hurt you. His breath was hot, burning your skin, spreading over it in a stormy wave.

"That was Taehyung," you said. Jungkook froze. You smiled because you knew it would surprise him.

"Taehyung?" he repeated quietly, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. His voice had dropped to a dangerous whisper, and his gaze-though you couldn't see it-was probably as dark as a night storm.

His fingers tightened around your hips, and his breath came in shorter bursts. But instead of getting angry or pulling away, he slowly, almost painfully, moved inside you again, sinking deeper.

"I didn't know he had a small one..." Jungkook said it with a sneer, but you didn't laugh, because Taehyung didn't have a small one. Maybe a little smaller than Jungkook's. "Why... he?" he said hoarsely, as if he wasn't asking, but trying to understand.

You smiled out loud, a little cheekily.

"We had a common project, common interests, spent a lot of time together...and it happened." you said, holding back moans of pleasure.

Jungkook entered you, deeper and longer each time. His movements were slow but full of power. Jungkook felt a stab of jealousy that Taehyung was touching you. He saw the pleasure on your beautiful face, heard your moans... Before Jungkook did. That made he’s movements chaos.

Your fingers slid along the steamy surface of the table, looking for support. Your whole body merged with his in a rhythm that seemed endless.

Jungkook lowered himself, leaning even closer, almost completely covering your body with his.

His lips touched your neck, burning with every word he spoke:

"Shared interests?" he whispered, moving his hips so that you cried out again. "I wonder if he liked the way you squirmed under him too..."

You turned your head as sharply as your posture allowed and met his gaze defiantly:

"What, are you jealous?" you exhaled, trembling from the new thrust. "Maybe you're afraid he was better?"

His whole body tensed. In the next moment, Jungkook straightened behind you and abruptly, but not violently, withdrew from you almost completely... and then plunged in again, deeply, to the very core.

You screamed, clutching the edge of the table.

"Say it again," his voice was low, dark as thunder in the night, "and I make you forget who Taehyung, Dongmin, In-guk, and everyone else who ever dared to touch you is."

His hips pressed firmly against your buttocks again, and his hands were no longer gentle, but strong, saying: "now you are mine."

And you felt it - with every cell.

His fingers slid to your clit, stimulating you to unbearable sensations. He knew how to touch you, how to hold you to make you moan louder for him.

Your sounds filled the room. He picked up the pace, but didn't lose control. Your back pressed against his chest as he lifted you without leaving you. You could feel his heart - it was beating furiously, almost in unison with yours.

"From this night — you only mine," he said. You couldn't even imagine how much he liked the sound of that, "you should remember how you looked when I fucked you for the first time, so you never forget who was the best in you..."

With that, he pulled out of you. You felt your passage hurt. Your pussy was swollen and throbbing unbearably. You tried to normalize your breathing when you felt Jungkook grab you, throwing you over his shoulder. Your bodies touched again, raising the temperature of each other. His hand was on your bare buttocks.

"Oh my God, what are you doing?" you said in agony in front of his buttocks. He couldn't help himself and slapped your ass.

"Going to show you how amazing you are when my cock is deep inside you," he said playfully.

Jungkook carried you into the bedroom. It was dark, but not completely. The lights of the city at night illuminated it barely, but it was enough to see what you needed to see.

You saw Jungkook carry you past the big bed and set you on your feet. In front of a mirror.

You looked at your reflection and saw a girl who was naked, with marks on her neck and chest. She was disheveled with swollen lips.

Jungkook hugged you close. You saw his face and sly smile in the mirror. His big palm touched your stomach.

"Just look how beautiful you are," he said in your ear, not taking his eyes off yours in the mirror, "how beautiful you are when you give yourself to me," he whispered, squeezing you more closer. His lips barely touched your skin, but your body was already on fire from this touch. You looked in the mirror and couldn't recognize yourself.

He grabbed your jaw and turned you around, kissing you. His tongue went into your mouth as if he was the master. Your tongues intertwined, wrestling just like you had all those years before. Finally, he bit your lower lip and let you go.

Jungkook led you to the mirror and you reflexively grabbed the frame. You let him dive into you again. This time he went in less painfully but still deeply, keeping his gaze on your reflection.

"Don't look away," his voice was warm but commanding, "I want you to see what I'm doing to you. So that every time you think back to this night, you will remember yourself like this. Mine."

His hips started moving again, gradually speeding up. His arms held you tightly, one cupping your breasts, the other sliding down between your legs. He touched you gently and hard at the same time, mixing pleasure with fierce passion exists.

You were trembling, and every movement of his body made you forget how to breathe.

"So who's fucking you so good, huh princess?" he hissed, staring at your mirror reflection.

You didn't answer, just exhaled his name, shuddering at his fingers on your clit.

"You…" you hardly breathe, "You Jungkook..."

You held back moans from the intense stimulation, the feel of his big cock inside you. And Jungkook didn't like it.

"Louder," he grunted. "I want to enjoying your scream."

You listened to him. You couldn't hold back any longer. Your loud moans, almost screams, filled the entire space around you. They were intertwined with the sounds of your bodies hitting each other, and they were almost sinful.

His cock moving inside you, hot, hard, ruthless. And your whole body merged with him in this rhythm - wild, honest, real. As if he knew no mercy.

He pulled your hair to the side and kissed your neck.

"I'm going to cherish this moment in your memories, because this is just the beginning of our fun adventure."

You let go of all your feelings as your orgasm hit you like a storm. Your body arched in his arms, the last, loudest moan burst from your chest, and your mind exploded with white light.

Jungkook hit you hard a few more times and came out of you. He came on your ass with a hoarse, low growl.

He put his wet forehead against your back, which was covered with a thin layer of sweat.

Your breaths merged into one, your hearts were beating furiously. His arms did not let go, his body did not move away. All you could feel was the weight of his cock on your buttocks and his warm, thick cum dripping down your legs.

You moved, forcing Jungkook to pull away. His cum dripped down your legs, dripped onto the floor, but neither of you seemed to care.

You turned around to face him. Jungkook was still breathing deeply, but he had a satisfied smile on his lips. You smiled too, but slyly, playfully.

"So…it happened," you said first. Jungkook pulled you to him. His lips covered yours, completely. Absorbing you, just as he had done with your body. With your soul. Having enjoyed your lips enough, he broke the kiss. You slowly opened your eyes. They were sparkling.

"It happened, princess, are you satisfied?" he asked, carefully studying your expression.

"Do I have to tell you the truth? Or can I tease you?" you asked playfully. His fingers on your waist squeezed your skin tighter.

"Only tell the truth... because if you lie to me again, or deceive me... you will not receive my mercy, anymore" he warned in a soft voice not without a touch of menace.

"It sounds like a another challenge..." you said, "but if tell honest, I'm really satisfied," you kissed him on the lips, a short touch, and when you pulled away a few centimeters, seeing his eyes closed, you whispered, "you fucked me so good."

Jungkook opened his eyes when he heard your words, but you had already disappeared. He saw you hurriedly walked towards the bedroom door.

"I need to take a shower," you threw over your shoulder and disappeared behind the door.

When you got out of the shower, you didn't find Jungkook. You heard the sound of water coming from the other bathroom and knew this was your chance to run away from him. You put on the dress that was lying on the floor in the living room, but you sewed up your thong because Jungkook had torn it.

You grabbed a piece of paper and a pen and wrote him a short message. You signed it with a kiss and the first letter of your name.

You grabbed key card, opened the door of hotel room and left without being stopped.

Jungkook took a quick shower, replaying your sex in his head. He was excited and happy that you would finally be his. The way you moaned and screamed his name made his mind go wild. And he was going to get even more from you.

Jungkook walked into the living room and heard silence. He became alert, looking around for you because you weren't in the bedroom.

His eyes fell on the white paper left on the table. Nowhere to be seen was your burgundy dress, which he had taken off you somewhere around here. Jungkook laughed as he walked over to the table. Did you really run away and leave a note?

He held the white piece of paper between his two fingers, skimming the contents.

"You still didn't catch me, but I'll be more careful than today. I'm looking forward to your hunt for me. What will be our next meeting? I'm sure you're already waiting for it.

P.S. Thanks for the show anyway, guy with the dark eyes.

Y/N 💋"

Jungkook clenched the piece of paper into a fist. And then he laughed. He sat down on the couch with his head on the back of the couch and looked at the ceiling.

You run away again. You had outsmarted him again. Again made his thoughts boil with the possibility of knowing a way to get you. He closed his eyes tiredly, but a smile played on his lips was predatory.

"No mercy now, Princess. The darkness pulls you under before you know it..." was the sound in his head.

☰ Index: Ⅰ // Ⅱ // Ⅲ // Ⅳ // Ⅴ 𓏧

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