katsukisbayy - Tumblr blog

katsukisbayy · 6 months ago

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Hate your guts (pt 1)

~ this fic is my Christmas gift💙 i'm dividing this into two parts bcs tumblr is shit

pairing: rockstar!hyunjin x rockstar afab!reader

genre: enemies to lovers, fluff, smut

wc: 26.6k

synopsis: hwang hyunjin, your sworn enemy. the person who finds and pushes all your buttons, annoys you and makes you angry. the person you're trying to avoid so badly, only to end up practically sharing a bed with him on tour. let the fun begin!

warnings: lots of swearing, smoking and alcohol, mentions of blood and throwing up, mild violence, multiple sex scenes, unprotected sex, oral (f and m), fingering, handjob, semi-public sex, spanking, creampies, mix of degradation and praise

a/n: thank you @frehyun for helping me come up with a name for hyunjin's band💕 also a thank you to @jehhskz @moonchild9350 and @hyunebunx for giving me suggestions, listening to me yap and being supportive while i was writing this🥹🩷🩷🩷 title is inspired by inji, go listen to her music🫶🏻

a little ramble: feel free to skip this! but i just wanted to say that this was supposed to be done sooner cause i had other fics planned out to write but work got in the way. so i wrote this fic whenever and wherever i could; hiding in the bathroom at work, during my break, at the bus station, at 3am when i couldn't sleep etc... it's been a ride and i'm proud of how it turned out, hopefully y'all enjoy it too🥹🫶🏻

“...And do you look into the mirror to remind yourself you’re there? Or have somebody’s goodnight kisses got that covered? When I’m not being honest, I pretend that you were just some lover…”

It was a perfect but short moment.

The fresh breeze coming into the car where the window was opened just a little was enough to give you some air but still managed to hide most of your face from the outside world.

The music in your ears was loud, so loud that you were drowning in it, the warm and comforting voice, the melancholic guitar riff in the background, and the gentle sluggish drums putting it all together into a song that made your eyes water.

You tuned everything else out as this was the only moment of peace you were going to get today.

You needed every shred of sanity you could gather, and you were determined to hold onto it as much as you could.

Because today, you had an interview with him.

Hwang Hyunjin.

Oh, the name you know so well.

Even thinking about the way it sounds makes you feel angry.

It seemed as if his life mission was to find every single button of yours and push them repeatedly until you exploded like a ticking bomb.

Your mind wandered as you thought about him and how much his existence angered you, your stomach turning into knots.

Or maybe it was just pre-interview nerves.

No matter how many times you talked in front of the camera, it always made you feel anxious and jittery.

Being on stage was fun, there was no anxiety there as whenever you would step on it and see all the people cheering for you and singing along to the music you and your friends wrote, your heart felt full, your soul elated.

It was an exhilarating feeling you couldn’t even begin to explain to someone who’d never experienced it.

Every concern in your head, every ache in your soul, every tear behind your eyelids threatening to spill got erased when you gave yourself to the stage.

If you could, you would definitely try to avoid the interviews and just perform.

But your record company had other plans.

Being the only up and rising all girls rock band in the company meant that you needed promotion, and what better way to promote than to collab with the only boy rock band in the same company?

Hwang Hyunjin’s band.

Yes, you couldn’t wait for this day to be over.

“Y/n!” you were shaken out of your thoughts, as your manager pulled at your headphones.

“What?” you almost snapped at her, startled by her antics.

“You were staring off into space and muttering angrily about Hyunjin. Something like ‘poke his eyes out’ and ‘conceited dick’.” Ana giggled, covering her lips with her hand as you rolled your eyes, realizing that you’ve already arrived at the building for the interview.

“I’m sure you find all this amusing. But I am not amused at all. Last time I had an interview with that... bastard, everyone thought we were dating and started shipping us.” you recoil at the thought. “I would never date someone like him.”

“Oh y/n, lighten up! You know there will always be rumors of all kinds. The dating rumors are the least harmful ones, trust me. Just act like you’re besties with Hyunjin, for an hour tops.”

You take a deep breath in, then sigh.

“I am a professional. I will do this right.” you nod with a determined tone as Ana bumped her fist with yours.

“That’s the spirit!” your manager smacked your thigh happily as you yelped, making her laugh before she exited the car.

Since you were in the underground parking lot, there was no press around so you walked out of the car freely, going directly to the elevator that would take you to the reception.

Ana pressed the button when you walked in and just as the doors started closing, someone’s combat boot was pushed between the silver doors, stopping them and making them open again.

Your eyes traveled up from the boots, to the tight leather pants and the skimpy tank top revealing a tattoo sleeve, right to the face you hoped you won’t be seeing for at least another ten minutes.

Hyunjin had an obnoxious smirk dancing on his lips as he looked down at you, puffing his chest out like some peacock showing off his feathers and you already wanted to smack the shit out of him.

His manager, Anthony waved at the two of you, ushering him into the elevator.

“Good morning y/n, Ana.” Anthony greeted as Hyunjin kept smirking at you.

“It was good until now.” you crossed your arms over your chest.

Even the cologne Hyunjin was wearing made you want to puke your guts out so you stepped away from him.

A chuckle escaped his lips as he leaned on the wall casually, never taking his eyes off of you.

“Aw, you throwing a tantrum already baby?” he smirked at you and you started fuming.

Both of your managers rolled their eyes, Ana muttering ‘here we go again’ as she shook her head.

“I see you have a new piercing on your face. You needed another hole to let the air out of that empty head?” you said, trying to sound nonchalant and Hyunjin scoffed.

“I’m gonna ignore that comment and focus on the fact that you’re counting my piercings. Observing me, huh?” he looked at you smugly.

“Yeah, cause I have nothing better to do than-”

Ding!

“Alright, break it off kids, were here!” Anthony said, quickly pulling Hyunjin out of the elevator.

“See? I can’t stand him.” you groaned as Ana chuckled.

“You stood up to him pretty well.” Ana winked. “Let's go get some coffee, get you properly awake before the interview.” she gripped your shoulders, shaking you a little as you groaned in protest.

Thankfully, Hyunjin had disappeared somewhere and you were glad he wasn’t around to annoy you, as you made small talk with a few of the staff you knew there since you’ve already been interviewed for the same channel before.

“Ana, I’m gonna go get some air before we start.” you felt the nerves creeping up inside you.

“Okay, but you have to be back in five minutes.” she reminded you and you gave her a thumbs up, before practically sprinting down the hall to get to the little terrace hidden on the side.

Staff used it for smoke breaks, and you decided to use it to calm your anxiety down.

You flung the door open and stepped out onto the balcony, quickly taking a deep breath in while you looked down at the city before you.

“Needed to see me once more before the interview?” a voice rang out to the left of you.

Hyunjin’s voice.

Of course the bastard is here, you thought, your face becoming hot in annoyance.

“I had no idea you were here, asshole.” you turned to look at him.

He was leaning on the railing, flexing his muscles, a long vein protruding under the layer of the swirling colorful flowers inked into his skin, leading all the way to his long fingers with chipped nail polish and a cigarette pinched between his thumb and index finger.

He looked at you intently through his bangs that were haphazardly falling into his eyes, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip, before his tongue poked out to play with the piercing adorning it.

“I thought you had more originality when it comes to nicknames, darling.” he said mockingly before taking another drag from his cigarette.

“Don’t call me that.” you turned around to leave but Hyunjin’s long arm quickly blocked your way, his palm splayed on the wall.

You looked up at him and stepped back, just as he puffed the smoke out your way.

“You leaving?” he looked smug again, intrusive thoughts of pushing him off the balcony appeared in your mind.

“Yes, this space is too small and your cologne is nauseating.” your face scrunches up.

“Aw, I’ll make sure to find another one you’d like.” Hyunjin smirks.

“Don’t bother.” you ducked under his arm and opened the door, walking away as fast as you could.

At least he helped in a way, you weren’t anxious anymore, just annoyed and waiting for this day to be over.

“Where is Hyunjin, we’re starting in a minute.” Anthony’s brows furrowed while you were ushered towards the room.

“Last I saw him, he was smoking on the balcony.” you shrugged as they sat you down.

The chair where Hyunjin would be sitting was too close for comfort and you wanted so badly to push it away, but you figured it was there because of the camera frame.

“We’re on in 30 seconds!” one of the staff yelled and you rolled your eyes.

Of course he was late, the self-centered bastard. You were sure he was enjoying this, everyone waiting on his highness to arrive, everyone panicking around him as he wears that disgusting smug smirk on his face.

“In 10…9…” the staff started counting down just as the door swung open and a breathless Hyunjin ran into the room, almost tripping over your crossed legs before he sat down on the chair next to you.

After he ran in, one of the girls working there ran in too, quickly taking her place with rosy cheeks and her lipgloss smeared.

You rolled your eyes and looked at him, the glitter from the girl’s lipgloss was visibly shining on his lips and chin.

“You have a little something.” you said and he smirked, wiping his chin off before leaning towards you.

“My lips were dry.” he whispered with a wink.

You were more than ready to get this over with, seething with anger at his unprofessional behavior that you didn’t even notice the camera began rolling.

“... today’s special guests are y/n of Venus Flytrap and Hyunjin of Lycoris Radiata! I hope y’all are as excited as I am, since it’s been so long. Y/n, let’s start with you. You have a new album coming out soon, can we get a little sneak peek of that?” the interviewer, Sarah, asked as you adjusted on your chair.

“This is our third album now, and this time Steph and Janey participated in the writing more than before, so the songs are really personal to all three of us.”

“Are we finally gonna hear about their love story?” Sarah wiggled her eyebrows.

“We may.” you smirked at her, not wanting to reveal too much.

“How about yours?” she added on, in the corner of your eye you saw Hyunjin leaning towards you as he stared at you, manspreading like always, his knee knocking into yours.

“Huh?”

“Your love story. Is there a special guy or girl in your life?” the interviewer asked, making you feel annoyed instantly.

You hated being asked questions like that, sometimes it felt like the music you were writing didn’t even matter, all people wanted to know was who you’re fucking.

“Not at the moment, no.” you forced a smile so you don’t seem rude.

“I thought I was special.” Hyunjin chimed in next to you, bumping his shoulder against yours, that shit eating grin you hate spreading on his face.

Before you could answer, Sarah butted in.

“Oh, is there something happening between you that we should know about?”

You could just hear the excitement in her voice, the hunger for drama dripping from her lips.

“Nothing is happening, we just like to joke around like that.” you quickly answered, hoping to deflect her to another question, or that she’d finally talk to Hyunjin and ask him about his new song, so you could take a few moments to breathe.

“So, you two are close?”

Oh no.

Here it goes again.

Last time this happened, your name got dragged on every social media platform.

People who were shipping the two of you got on your nerves, but that wasn’t the biggest problem.

No, it was the people who had sent you hate and death threats, telling you if they saw you next to Hyunjin again you’d be dead.

It took a toll on your mental health and scared you since you know people can easily find an address or stalk you somewhere and you wanted to avoid any rumors that would endanger your well-being.

“We're just coworkers.” to your surprise Hyunjin answered nonchalantly, saying exactly what you wanted to say so people would leave you alone.

Why was there a weird feeling in your chest then?

“Well, sometimes there’s passion at the workplace.” Sarah wasn’t giving it up and you were close to losing your temper and telling her to shove it already, ask some less invasive questions.

“No passion here, our relationship is strictly professional.” you said, but your skin burned where Hyunjin’s thigh pressed against yours.

In your mind you were cursing both him and Sarah, and even your manager for bringing you here.

Thankfully, she left it at that, continuing with questions about your upcoming tour and Hyunjin’s new song.

As soon as the interview finished and you were done shaking hands, Ana came to you, her hand on your shoulder as she squeezed.

In the corner of your eye, you saw Hyunjin slip out of the room.

“Good job.” she smiled as Anthony joined the two of you.

“I hope you’re hungry, y/n. This time it’s my treat, and there’s this restaurant…”

You tuned Anthony out, completely forgetting that after an interview like this, the tradition is to have dinner with Hyunjin and his manager.

“Can we skip dinner this time? I just wanna go home and lay down.”

“Nonsense, I hear your stomach growling from here. Come on, it’s free food you can’t say no.” Anthony made a goofy face, hoping to win you over.

“Fine, you had me at free food.” you sighed as Ana nodded with a smile.

“Good! Now where is our other rockstar?” he quickly looked around. “I swear, sometimes I feel like I’m a babysitter, not a manager.”

“I’ll go find him.” you offered, wanting to leave the building as soon as possible.

“Sure.” Ana nodded and you made your way down the hall.

Your footsteps echoed in the empty space, until you came closer to a corner where the sounds of hushed voices and giggles filled up your ears and made you roll your eyes.

“You know I can’t give you my number, baby. But if there is an empty room around here somewhere…” Hyunjin was talking to the girl from earlier, leaning over her body as she stared up at him like he was a god, her back against the wall.

You cleared your throat, crossing your arms on your chest.

Both of them looked up at you, Hyunjin giving you a smirk as he straightened up and the girl glared at you but you didn’t give a shit.

“We need to leave right now. Our managers are waiting for us.” you said simply as the girl whined.

“Shh, maybe some other time.” he shushed her, leaning towards her and your stomach flipped in disgust.

He didn’t kiss her, just taunted her before he leaned back and made his way towards you.

“Cockblocker.” he stuck his tongue out, the piercing adorning it catching the light for a moment.

“Do you even know her name?” you asked, keeping a fast pace and a good distance away from him.

“No. Does it matter?” he shrugged, his long legs quickly catching up to you in big strides.

“You’re despicable.” your face scrunched up in disgust as you neared the elevator where your managers were waiting and chatting.

“Throwing some big words around. You sure you know the meaning?” he smirked.

“That’s it.” you said angrily.

“What? You just basically told me I deserve to be hated just cause I wanted to have some fun.”

You looked at him, full on ready to slap him across his face but Ana stepped between the two of you.

“Fighting again? Can the two of you behave for just one evening?” Anthony frowned with a sigh as he called the elevator.

“I can behave.” Hyunjin clicked his tongue cheekily before playing with his lip ring again.

“Y/n?” Ana looked at you.

“As long as he doesn’t talk to me, I’ll be fine.” you turned away from Hyunjin, stepping into the elevator.

This is going to be one awkward dinner.

Choosing to disconnect in the van you put your earphones in, ignoring Hyunjin’s presence right next to you.

It’s like your managers wanted to have you two as close as possible, like they thought it’d make you hate each other less but at this moment there was nothing more you wanted than to get away from him.

Or maybe your managers wanted to be closer to each other, you smirked to yourself as Ana twirled her hair around her finger, giggling at something Anthony said.

You leaned back as the music flooded your ears, your figure slightly turned towards the window as you watched the street lights pass you by, totally unaware of a pair of eyes that were glued to you.

Hyunjin observed you in detail, how shiny your hair was as it cascaded down your back and shoulders, how your brows were slightly creased and your lips pouty as you listened to your music, the steady rise and fall of your chest, the way your fingers played with the hem of your shirt as you pulled on it, how pretty the rings adorning your fingers were, how the necklace you always wore laid gently on your collarbone.

No little detail was skipped as he drinked it all in, thinking you wouldn’t notice.

But after some time as it got even darker outside, you caught Hyunjin’s reflection in the window as he stared at you with a look on his face that you’ve never seen before.

Your stomach suddenly swirled as the two of you made eye contact on the glass, Hyunjin’s plump lips falling open before he sat up and looked away, acting like nothing happened.

The rest of the ride was uneventful and you were tired of this day, having to look at Hyunjin was more exhausting to you than being on stage.

You couldn’t wait to get into your bed and disappear.

As you walked into the restaurant, you were led to a table and you could see a few people whispering and pointing at you but usually they didn’t bother you much.

However, this time was different.

As you scanned the menu, a girl timidly approached your table and you looked up at her as she stood next to Hyunjin.

“I’m - I’m sorry to bother you but I’m a really big fan and I was wondering if you’d take a picture with me?” she asked Hyunjin who immediately smirked at her.

“No pictures allowed. But you can get his signature.” Anthony chimed in.

“And who the fuck are you?” the girl changed her demeanor right away, making Hyunjin chuckle.

“Easy there, sweetheart, that’s my boss.” he wiggled his eyebrows at the girl. “Come on I’ll give you a sign and you can write me your number, maybe I’ll call you, hm?” Hyunjin winked at her and you just about lost your appetite completely.

“Oh, sure, I’d love that!” she let out a nasally laugh as he signed a napkin with a pen she somehow produced, giving it back to her as she leaned over to write her number down, making sure her tits were right in his face before she skipped back to her friends.

“Can there be at least one minute when you’re not trying to fuck something that walks?” you looked at him annoyingly and he laughed.

“Thought you weren’t talking to me.” he smirked.

“Ugh, you’re so annoying!” you were ready to smack him with the menu in your hand but Ana caught your wrist.

“I bet you love that about me.” he kept smirking.

“Love is nothing near what I feel about you.” you said, your teeth gritted.

“There’s a fine line between love and hate, you know.” Hyunjin smirked, leaning into your personal space.

“Anyways, guys. What are you ordering? Their steak is really good.” Anthony gave an awkward smile as he looked around the table.

“I want the tomato pasta.” Hyunjin leaned back, making you cackle.

“Isn’t that the kids menu? Makes sense for you somehow.”

“I’m saving room for dessert.” he winked at you, his tongue running over his lip tentatively, the piercing on it catching the light again.

“Ew.” you jolted in disgust as he laughed loudly, obviously finding enjoyment in ticking you off.

The dinner part of the outing was uneventful as everyone ate and made small talk but you didn’t miss how Hyunjin crumpled up the napkin with the fan’s number and threw it aside on the table, not caring about it.

What an asshole.

“Let’s make a little toast to this evening and the upcoming albums and tour.” Ana proposed as she lifted her glass up.

“To us.” Hyunjin smirked as he looked at you.

“To rock’n’roll!” you added as the four of you clinked your glasses together before taking a big swig of your drinks.

Hyunjin didn’t look at you on the drive home.

Rehearsal was supposed to start at 9am sharp, but you were there bright and early, tuning your guitar.

Being an early bird, you loved the few moments of peace you could have to yourself, just you and your music.

Your hand glided easily on the guitar’s neck, taking shapes familiar to your hands, it was muscle memory by now, your fingers picking on the strings and creating the melody you played countless times before.

You let your voice ring out in the space freely as you sang a song dear to your heart, one you wrote when you were younger.

You’d always start warming up by singing it to yourself, never having the need to actually put it out into the world.

You got into it, your eyes closed as you sang with a small smile on your face, the entire world around you disappearing shortly.

In the distance, you heard footsteps and voices belonging to your bandmates and just as you opened your eyes, you looked through the glass on the door, a shadow slithered across the wall outside, disappearing around the corner.

You squinted your eyes and stood up, putting your guitar aside and coming closer to the door.

Just as you were about to reach towards the doorknob, the voices got louder.

“Are we seriously doing this right now?” Janey asked, the tone of her voice angry.

“I’m telling you, it was nothing! I don’t know who she is and why she’s texting me!” Steph defended herself as Janey scoffed.

“I’m sick of your excuses. I’m gonna give you one last chance to make it up to me and be truthful, but after that I’m done.” you stepped back as Janey came into view, opening the door angrily.

“Oh, y/n.” she widened her eyes slightly. “Good morning.” she added, scurrying past you to take her place behind the drum kit.

Steph walked in with a scowl on her face, muttering a ‘morning’ before going straight to her bass guitar.

It wasn’t the first time they fought or even broke up.

There were many times you had to be the mediator between them, trying to get them to communicate and even though it was frustrating, you didn’t want them to give up on their relationship easily and you couldn’t really take sides since they were both your friends.

“Shall we?” you asked and they nodded.

It took some warming up as always but soon you got into the groove, rehearsing for a small performance that was happening tonight.

You were excited because during the performance you planned to reveal your new song and see how people like it in person.

The only thorn in your eye was the fact that Hyunjin’s band will be there too, performing right after yours.

You were dreading to see him again, since that interview last week you had managed to avoid him skilfully, but you couldn’t hide forever.

And even though your rehearsal went somewhat smoothly, there was tension in the air and you didn’t like that feeling.

It felt like a storm was coming and you weren’t sure if you’re ready to take it on.

Evening came around quickly, everyone was already gathered backstage and you were dressed and ready, having rehearsed once more on the stage, tuning your guitars and getting ready for the most fun part.

You peered from the back, seeing all the people gathering made your heart swell, a smile spreading on your face automatically.

“Quite a turn out, huh?”

Your eye literally twitched when you heard Hyunjin’s voice behind you, too close for comfort as his figure loomed over you and you felt the warmth of his body on your back.

You turned your head slightly as he peered down at you with that annoying smirk you absolutely hate.

“Of course.” you said, squeezing your body between him and the curtain, ignoring him calling after you as you walked away as fast as you could.

You’re not gonna let him ruin tonight for you.

It was time to go on stage anyways.

You and your girls did a little cheer as tradition before the performance, Ana coming up to hug you and wish you good luck.

“Break a leg.” Hyunjin appeared out of nowhere and you only rolled your eyes before whipping around and almost smacking him with your hair as you made your way towards the stage.

As soon as you walked out, loud screams filled up your ears and everything negative was forgotten and locked away in a drawer in the back of your mind.

“Are you ready to rock tonight?!” you screamed out into the mic as the three of you took your positions.

Hyunjin watched you from the side with an unreadable look on his face, but you weren’t even aware of it and you didn’t care.

All you cared about was this moment.

The moment where you get to share your love for music with thousands of people.

It was exhilarating, watching the mass of bodies sway like one, hearing all the people singing the lyrics you wrote in unison.

Nothing could compare to this and every time you stood under that light, you knew you were born for this.

Giddy from everything, you skipped backstage once you finished playing the last song; which happened to be the new one and people more than loved it judging by their excited screams.

“That was amazing!” Ana met you halfway, giving high fives to all three of you.

You were still trying to catch your breath as you giggled, when Hyunjin appeared next to you again.

“Aren’t you gonna wish me good luck?” he smirked at you, shamelessly giving you the elevator eyes.

“Good luck guys!” Janey yelled at all four members with a smile and a thumbs up but Hyunjin shook his head.

“I want her to say it or I’m not going out on stage.” he crossed his arms on his chest, pouting and tapping his foot like a child about to throw a tantrum.

“Come on, Hyun, we need to get out there!” Aiden, the band’s bassist called out.

“Not moving until y/n wishes me good luck.” he quickly shook his head, his fluffy hair shaking with it and you thought how he resembled a dog; in more ways than one.

“Fine you spoiled brat. Good luck.” you said sarcastically and he scoffed.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he smirked, leaning into your personal space again.

“Get on the stage, Hyunjin.” you sighed and he chuckled in delight.

“Watch me closely.” he winked before running off.

“I can just cut the tension in the air with a knife.” Steph smirked at you, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Oh, fuck off!” you said, smacking the back of her head as she cackled.

You did end up watching Hyunjin’s band perform after refreshing yourself, but pretty soon you’ve come to regret that decision.

He was wild while performing, stripping out of his jacket as he screamed into the mic, sweating under the bright lights pointed directly at him making him look like an insane glazed donut as he strutted around the stage acting all smug even though he tripped over his dumb long legs multiple times.

He’d lean over towards his little groupies, holding their hand or caressing their faces, blowing them kisses and whatnot, all of that behavior making your gut churn in disgust.

The last straw was when he laid down on his back and started humping the air while moaning into the mic.

Even though the crowd screamed louder than before and the horny fans almost started hyperventilating, you felt second hand embarrassment at witnessing this.

Hyunjin continued moaning before he threw his head back, his eyes locking with yours.

A shiver ran down your spine as he smirked at you, all sweaty, his hair sticking to his forehead, his piercings shining in the light, the veins on his neck visible and his cheeks red.

A warmness spread in your navel as he winked, licking at his lip slowly, taunting you before he moaned extra loudly, the pornographic sound echoing in your ears.

You frowned suddenly at your heart beating fast and your legs pressing together.

What the fuck is wrong with me?, you thought, quickly shaking your head as he finally looked away from you and stood up.

Of course, he got showered by multiple bras on stage, you think you even caught a glimpse of someone throwing their panties and you couldn’t watch anymore.

It was truly disgusting.

You quickly shoved past some staff members watching and gasping at whatever Hyunjin was doing now.

Pushing past everyone, you made your way outside to get some fresh air in the hidden area behind backstage, where staff and musicians usually smoked or chilled after a performance.

You greeted some of the staff before finding a spot where you could be alone.

You were about to relax when you heard kissing sounds and as you turned to look around the corner you saw Steph kissing some random girl.

You couldn’t contain the gasp that flew out of your mouth, making them jolt away from each other.

Steph’s eyes widened when she saw you and you quickly spun around, noticing Janey had just walked outside too and started looking around.

“Y/n, wait!” Steph yelled behind you. “It’s not what you think! Please, don’t tell Janey!” she looked at you desperately but you hated cheaters more than anything, seeing her betrayal with your own eyes broke any sort of connection you had with her.

“Isn’t it? Your tongue was down some girl’s throat. Now, what do you call that?” you scoffed.

“What?” Janey appeared next to you, just as the girl who Steph was kissing before stood behind her.

“It’s not like that, I-”

You could see Janey’s eyes filling up with tears.

“That’s it, I’m done. With you and with the band. With everything.” you gasped when she said that, your eyes wide.

“Janey, don’t be like that, it didn’t mean anything to me-” Steph started.

“Liar, you told me you’d leave her for me.” the girl behind Steph chimed in.

“Oh, so this has been going on for some time?” Janey looked between Steph and the girl.

“Let’s talk about this inside.” you tried to lead them in as people were whispering and looking at the four of you.

“I have nothing else to say. I’m sorry, y/n. I can’t be a part of this band anymore when all it’s gonna do is remind me of this cheating whore.” Janey spat before turning around and leaving.

“Okay, I deserve that but like I’m sorry that-”

“Save it, Steph. I can’t believe you did this. You put your desires over the well-being of our band. You do understand that your actions not only affect Janey, but also me, Ana and the rest of the record company?” you asked her, your blood boiling with anger.

“I- I’m sorry, let me make it right. I’ll talk to Janey and she’ll forgive me once she understands-”

“You think I want you to be part of the band after this? That’s rich.” you turned around too, in hopes of finding Janey.

“Y/n, you can’t throw me out of the band!” Steph yelled behind you.

“I just did.” you said coldly before opening the door and rushing into the backstage room.

“Is Janey here?” you asked Ana and before she could answer, someone bumped into you rather strongly, making you stumble backwards a little.

You turned around angrily, noticing a very sweaty and breathless Hyunjin staring at you with a smile, his tongue lolling out of his lips as he played with his piercing.

“So, did you like my performance?” he winked at you. “Did it get you excited?” the famous shit eating grin spread on his face as he leaned in closer to you, a few droplets of sweat dripping from his hair.

“I don’t have time for your games, Hyunjin. Please leave me alone.” you said annoyingly, noticing he had a bra hooked around his hand.

“What’s going on?” Ana asked, looking at you confusedly.

You were shaken up, the anger you felt manifesting into tears and you cursed yourself for being so emotional and quick to cry.

“Woah, you’re crying!” Hyunjin stepped even closer to you but you’ve had enough of him.

“Get away from me, asshole!” you channeled all your anger his way as you pressed your hands on his chest, pushing him away.

Hyunjin stumbled with a gasp, a shocked look on his face.

“What the hell is happening here?” Anthony quickly came to Hyunjin’s side as his bandmates watched everything unfold.

“Ana, can we talk in private?” you glared once more at Hyunjin and she quickly nodded, hooking her arm with yours and taking you away from the scene.

Hyunjin watched your figure disappear out of view with a deep frown on his face.

It’s been a dreadful week.

You’ve tried talking to Janey multiple times, begging her to come back, promising to her that you wouldn’t let Steph come anywhere near her.

Sadly, Janey was insistent on not wanting to continue with the band since lots of the songs were written by her and her now ex girlfriend who betrayed her in such an ugly way.

You talked to Ana almost every day on the phone but you weren’t up for any visits, choosing instead to wallow in your sadness.

Your band fell apart, your friends were no longer together, your album couldn’t be published and people were speculating, spreading rumors, you were getting numerous curious comments asking what happened to Venus Flytrap.

You had no idea what to do at that moment.

You just needed some time to yourself to figure out what your next step should be.

You were lounging in your bed when your phone buzzed for the hundredth time.

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed it and saw that you had a text message from an unknown number.

???: hey there pretty girl! don’t be so sad! there are worse things than your band falling apart.

you: what, like death? and who is this?

???: your favorite person in the whole world<3

you: hyunjin??

???: aw i knew i was your favorite!

You started seething immediately as you sat up, your heart beating fast instantly as you worked yourself up into annoyance.

You quickly put his contact under ‘asshole’.

you: no, i knew that a conceited answer like that can only come from an asshole like you.

you: now, what do you want?

asshole: did you save my contact as asshole? or dickhead? which one is it?

you: wouldn’t you like to know. seriously what the hell do you want. i’ll block you if you don’t get on with it

asshole: just wanted to see if you maybe want to talk to someone

you: if i did, i wouldn’t choose you. have a nice day away from me hyunjin

Hyunjin didn’t answer your last text, instead he left you on read and you tossed your phone across your bed, now feeling even more infuriated than before.

You squinted your eyes, grabbing your phone again and texting Ana.

you: did you give my number to hyunjin??

Ana: i’m sorry! he wouldn’t stop bugging me about it! pls don’t be mad

Just great.

Why is he insisting on annoying you even when you feel down in the dumps, you thought, he always has to come in and make you feel even more mad.

You were hoping that with your last text he’d finally leave you alone.

You also hoped you wouldn’t be seeing him any time soon.

But boy, you couldn’t be more wrong.

“What?!” you yelled so loudly that it echoed off of the office walls.

“Y/n, please we don’t know any other solution. Lycoris Radiata is going to tour in 4 days and you’re the only person who knows their songs by heart. You can also kick ass with drums. And well, you’re kinda free now.” Anthony grimaced.

“You can’t do this to me. I can’t spend so much time with Hwang Hyunjin!” you whined like a child, kicking your legs under the table as Ana gave you an apologetic look.

“Gossiping about me?” Hyunjin strolled in, with that annoying smirk, his hair in a little ponytail, showing more of his ear piercings and his sharp jawline.

He took off his leather jacket, throwing it haphazardly on the chair before he plopped down into it.

He spun around in the chair to face you as you looked at him with a scowl on your face.

Brendon, his guitarist and Aiden joined the meeting right after that.

“So, ready to be my new drummer?” Hyunjin wiggled his eyebrows at you.

“Not a chance in hell.”

“Y/n, please, we have no other choice! Phil had to leave so suddenly due to his sickness. We couldn’t be prepared for something like that. We can’t afford to postpone the tour now.” Brendon pleaded as Aiden nodded next to him.

You leaned back into the chair, pursing your lips as you gave it a thought.

Of course they’d choose you.

You knew their songs by heart since you shared so many tours together but you had your own bus and mostly ran into Hyunjin either backstage or at an afterparty but if you would become a part of his band you’d spend most of your time with him.

But this could be good for you to give yourself time to decide what you wanna do next while touring with Lycoris Radiata.

And since you were a multi instrumentalist, playing the drums wouldn’t be a problem for you.

You smirked suddenly before tilting your head at Hyunjin.

“Fine. I will tour with you under one condition.” you said.

“Anything!” Anthony piped in but you kept staring at Hyunjin.

“I want you to beg.” your smirk deepened and Hyunjin’s eyes widened slightly, his fingers twitching against his thighs.

“What?” he blinked repeatedly and you chuckled under your breath.

“Beg me to join your band or I’m not doing it.”

Hyunjin’s lips opened and closed a few times before he frowned.

“I don’t beg. I demand.” he smirked, taunting you.

“Well, in case you haven’t noticed, you’re in no position to have demands. However, I am. So if I want you to beg, Hyunjin, you’re gonna beg.” you sat up straight as he looked at you in pure shock.

“My, my darling. I didn’t know you were this commanding. I kinda dig that.” he wiggled his eyebrows.

“Any day now.” you were ready to stand up and leave.

The room was eerily silent and Brendon opened his lips to speak up but Anthony grabbed his wrist and quickly shook his head.

You could see the gears turning in Hyunjin’s head as he stared at you, and slowly but surely his cheeks became red as he closed his eyes in frustration.

“Pretty please, join my band and come on tour with us?” he said, rather quickly and you tsked.

“Not convincing enough.” you enjoyed having the upper hand, the roles reversed as you pushed Hyunjin’s buttons.

“What do you want me to do?! Kneel at your feet?” he whined.

“Maybe.” you shrugged.

“Unbelievable! I’m the one doing you a favor anyways.” Hyunjin said, clearly annoyed and you were reveling in it.

You wanted him to get the taste of his own medicine.

“Is that so?” you raised your eyebrow as he breathed hard.

“Yes, your band is as good as dead right now, just like your career.” he said with a smug smirk, making everyone gasp.

“Hyunjin!” Aiden scolded him and you stood up, feeling your eyes water as you lifted your hand, your palm colliding with Hyunjin’s cheek.

The force of your slap turned his head right and he grabbed at his cheek immediately, his eyes wide, his face becoming red quickly.

“Fuck you!” you said angrily before turning around and leaving the room as tears started sliding down your cheeks.

“Now look at what you did!” Anthony was mad and Hyunjin shrugged with a frown, realizing quickly that maybe he did cross a line.

“How could you say something like that to y/n?” Brendon asked, and Hyunjin looked at them, feeling dejected suddenly as he rubbed at his cheek.

There was strength in your hands, that he was sure of.

“I fucked up, okay! I didn’t mean to say that.” he shook his head. “I will make this right.” Hyunjin added, standing up.

“Dude, I think you’re the last person y/n wants to see right now.” Aiden said.

“But I have to apologize to her.” Hyunjin chewed on his lip, playing with his piercing as a nervous habit.

“I’ll go with you then.” Aiden nodded, standing up as well.

“Fine.” Hyunjin sighed.

You sat in the swinging chair on one of the many balconies of the building, letting your tears slip down your cheeks as the wind picked up, making you shiver.

Hyunjin and Aiden found you pretty quickly and before Aiden could follow him to the balcony, Hyunjin smacked his hand on Aiden’s chest.

“Please, just wait here.”

“Fine, but if you provoke her again, I’m coming in.” Aiden sighed, shaking his head.

The door of the balcony opened and in the corner of your eye you saw Hyunjin’s combat boots and his leather pants.

“Go away.” you said quietly, sniffling and turning away from him.

Hyunjin stood frozen for a moment, holding his jacket in his hand and you took that time to quickly wipe away your tears.

You didn’t want to look weak in front of your enemy.

Footsteps approached and suddenly you felt a weight on your shoulders and back.

You looked down, realizing that Hyunjin had put his jacket around you and it smelled like cigarettes mixed with cologne he always wears and something distinctly him.

You took a deep breath and for some reason, calmness settled all over your body.

“I’m really sorry for what I said back there. It was way out of line.”

You didn’t say anything, still refusing to look at him.

“And I’m sorry about your band. I know that must be hard to go through. I feel bad that my drummer had to leave, I don’t know how I’d feel if-”

“Are you done?” you turned to look at him and his lips pressed together.

“I don’t care how you feel, Hyunjin. Just like you didn’t care about hurting me moments ago.” you stood up, ready to throw his jacket away.

“Well, I apologized!” he threw his hands up, rolling his eyes. “Though, I’m glad I have that effect on you, I didn’t know you cared so much about what I think or say.” he smirked suddenly.

You were tempted to slap his other cheek at that moment, and Aiden must’ve sensed it so he walked out to the balcony.

“Are we okay?” he asked, gulping.

“Not until he apologizes properly.” you crossed your arms with a smirk, and he knew exactly what you meant.

“Ugh! This is the first and last time I get on my knees for you.” Hyunjin said annoyingly as he kneeled down and you chuckled in delight.

“I’m sorry for being an asshole and if you could find it in your heart to forgive me, I’d be honored for you to join my band.” he batted his eyelashes at you.

“Mm…” you pursed your lips, acting like you were contemplating it as he rolled his eyes again.

“Fine. I accept.” you shrugged and Hyunjin stood up quickly with a smile.

“Welcome to the band, sweetheart!” he smirked, opening his arms for a hug and you quickly dodged under his arm and slithered away.

“You’re welcome.” you smirked back, grabbing his jacket and throwing it at him.

He caught it just as you walked back into the hallway, grinning to himself as you walked away.

“She wants me so bad.” Hyunjin said as Aiden’s eyebrows lifted comically.

“I think she wants to kill you.” he said and Hyunjin chuckled, smacking Aiden’s shoulder and grabbing him.

“I know what chicks like, okay?”

“You also know that y/n isn’t one of your little groupies?” Aiden sighed.

“I know, don’t worry. She’s special.” Hyunjin smiled, hugging his jacket to his chest, getting a whiff of your perfume that stayed on it.

Aiden shook his head with a chuckle.

This is gonna be one hell of a tour.

The party was in full swing.

That morning you had packed for the tour, your stomach swirling with nerves so much that you thought you’d throw up.

You were actually going on tour with Lycoris Radiata, for at least six months.

A lot can happen in that amount of time and while you were nervous to spend so much time with the infuriating and annoying asshole aka Hwang Hyunjin, you were also excited for the new experience and the places you’ll get to see.

Of course, you couldn’t leave without attending a ‘have an amazing tour’ party that was mostly exclusive only for staff and a few other people.

You were on your second glass of beer as you sat at the bar, the cold bitter liquid not calming you down as it should.

Hyunjin was having a jolly old time, entertaining some girls of course and if you had rolled your eyes any harder, they’d get stuck in the back of your head.

“Don’t take that to heart.” Aiden suddenly appeared next to you.

“What?” you chuckled awkwardly, shaking away your thoughts.

“Hyunjin flirting like that. He’s a lot of talk, more than anything else.”

“Why would I care if he flirts with some random girls?” you frowned. “It’s none of my business.”

“Right.” Aiden pursed his lips. “Well, I’m gonna go find Anthony.”

“Sure.” you shrugged, your eyes flying back to Hyunjin and the girls who were salivating all over him.

He was showing them his biceps and they were touching him like they’ve never seen a human arm in their life.

You scoffed, shaking your head when a voice behind you startled you.

“Now, why is a pretty lady such as yourself sitting all alone?”

You turned around with your eyebrow lifted, coming face to face with a stranger.

“Because it’s her choice.” you answered.

“Oh, feisty and pretty? That’s a fun combo.” the guy smirked, his arm leaning on your chair, almost hugging your waist as he got closer to you.

Your nose scrunched up, he smelled of alcohol and you really wanted him to leave you alone.

“I’m pretty boring, trust me.” you said.

“Oh, I don’t believe that. In fact, I think if you were to let me take you home tonight, you and I could have so much fun.” he smirked and you were pretty sure you barfed in your mouth a little.

“No, thank you.” you said sarcastically.

He chuckled, placing his arms around you.

You were completely unaware of Hyunjin who was keeping an eye on you and the suspicious guy.

As soon as the man placed his hands on you, Hyunjin pushed the girl he was talking to aside, his heavy combat boots taking him right to you and the disturbance in your personal space.

“I don’t really take no for an answer.” he said and your heart sank momentarily.

“Back off man!” you tried to push him away but he wasn’t budging.

Suddenly the guy was ripped away from you with such force that it pulled you to your feet.

You grabbed at the bar to steady yourself and gasped just in time to see Hyunjin swinging his fist at the man.

“Oh my god!” you almost screamed, your eyes wide as the guy fell to the floor instantly.

People quickly gathered around and Anthony was trying to push them away so he could grab Hyunjin.

“The lady said no, you fucking dirtbag!” Hyunjin said, swinging at the man again.

“Oh my god, Hyunjin! Stop, it’s okay, please!” you panicked, never seeing him this angry or violent.

“Hwang! Enough!” Anthony yelled, grabbing Hyunjin’s arms and lifting him up as he fought against his manager, still trying to punch the man who was now laying on the floor with his face completely bloody.

You kept looking at Hyunjin with a shocked expression as he breathed hard, his face red and sweaty from anger, the veins on his neck and forehead popping out.

“I stopped, now let me go.” he said through his teeth as someone lifted up the unconscious guy.

“Hyunjin, if this gets out to the press it could turn into a fucking shitstorm! What the hell is wrong with you?!” Anthony yelled angrily as Hyunjin stood with his fists still clenched.

“He made y/n uncomfortable and he deserved it.” Hyunjin answered before turning towards you.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his eyes softening as you stared at him in disbelief.

“I-I’m fine.”

“Good. I’m done with this party.” Hyunjin said, turning on his heel and grabbing his jacket before he walked out, leaving you standing there still trying to process what the hell just happened.

You were half asleep when Ana drove you to the tour bus.

You barely slept last night, tossing and turning in your bed as the images of Hyunjin punching that guy from the party kept swimming in your head.

Never has a man defended you like that and you’ve never seen Hyunjin look so livid before.

He was usually either smirking, laughing or being a menace, ready to always annoy you but you’ve never seen him actually angry.

It was kind of… hot, you thought before shaking it off.

You wondered why he reacted like that.

“You okay?” Ana snapped you out of your vegetative state as you sank in the passenger seat, arms crossed and hood over your head.

“Hm? Yeah, just sleepy.” you sat up and looked around.

The sun wasn’t even up yet.

“You can continue sleeping on the tour bus. We’re here.” she chuckled.

“Oh, goody.” you sighed before opening the door and walking out.

“Morning, ladies.” Anthony all but ran up to Ana, helping her with yours and her bags since she’d be joining you too.

“Morning? It’s still night.” you checked your phone, seeing it was 4:13am.

“Not where I come from. You see-” Anthony started.

“Okay, I’m too asleep to listen to this.” you shook your head before strolling towards the bus.

You were about to just climb in and go straight to the nearest bed you could find but you heard some quiet music coming from behind the back of the bus.

You approached slowly and peeked around to see Hyunjin leaning on the wall, smoking and listening to some quiet music.

He looked up instantly, seeming like a deer caught in headlights for a short moment.

“Remembered to put on a jacket?” he smirked.

“Ha ha. Very funny.” you said and he shrugged, looking away and turning the music off.

As he brought his cigarette to his lips, you noticed his knuckles were red and injured.

“I guess I should thank you for last night.” you said quietly, swinging on your feet awkwardly as you dug your hands in your pockets.

“It was nothing.” he shook his head quickly.

“I wouldn’t call that nothing.” you motioned to his hand.

“This?” he looked at his hand and chuckled. “You should see the other guy.” he winked at you, making you roll your eyes.

“Clever.”

“Come to think of it, it does hurt a bit. Wanna kiss it better?” Hyunjin smirked, puffing the smoke out.

“Bite me.” you gave him the middle finger as he laughed, the sound ringing out in the quiet early hours.

“I might. If you ask nicely.” he said with that smug expression of his.

“I’m going inside.” you shivered, realizing how cold it actually was, ignoring his witty quips.

“I’m right behind ya.” he threw his cigarette on the floor before stepping on it.

Your heart started beating fast out of nowhere as his heavy boots stomped behind you, the sound escorting you to the entrance of the bus.

“Oh wow.” your eyes widened as you looked around the living/kitchen area.

“You like?” Hyunjin leaned over your shoulder and you jolted away from him, making him snicker.

“Yeah, it’s… not what I expected. It looks more cozy than I thought it would.” you nodded.

“You should thank the interior designer.” he wiggled his eyebrows.

“And who might that be?” you asked, making your way to the bunk bed area.

“Oh, just a guy. He takes payment in kisses.” Hyunjin bumped into you as you stopped.

“Is that guy maybe you?” you turned around, not realizing immediately just how close Hyunjin was to you.

“Maybe it is.” he leaned towards you with a smirk and you squealed a little, stepping away from him.

“Give it up. I’m taking the top bunk bed.” you pointed to the left side.

“Not fair! I always take that one!” Hyunjin pouted.

“Tough luck, I called it first.” you smirked, taking off your jacket and throwing it up on the bed.

“Or… we can both sleep up there?” Hyunjin said and you scoffed, pushing him away.

“Like hell!”

“Are y’all fighting this early?” Brendon came in, looking confused and disheveled.

“No, it’s foreplay.” Hyunjin wiggled his eyebrows and you made gagging noises.

“Here’s your bag, y/n.” Ana appeared with your luggage.

Aiden and Anthony came in after and everyone took some time to unpack and get settled.

“I heard we have two pretty ladies with us, so you fellas gotta behave now.” you heard an unknown voice and leaned over to see who it belonged to.

“Oh, we always behave, Stu.” Hyunjin smirked.

“Yes, especially you.” the man, Stu, rolled his eyes.

“This is our main driver Stu.” Aiden introduced you and Ana to him.

“Pleasure to meet you ladies. Hopefully the road won’t be too bumpy.” he winked before turning around and leaving.

“Where is Bradley?” Anthony piped in suddenly.

“Who’s Bradley?” you asked, at this moment you just wanted to get everything over with and catch up on some sleep.

“Our sound guy.” Brendon answered. “And lights guy. He is underpaid and overworked, basically.” he added, giving Anthony a pointed look.

“Hey, it’s not my fault Mike quit!” he lifted his hands up. “Besides, we’re picking someone up in the next town over. He’ll be our roadie along with Bradley.”

As they started discussing, you slipped away to the bathroom, where you could change in peace and get ready for bed.

You leaned on the counter, staring at yourself in the mirror as you listened to the muffled voices talking.

Were you doing the right thing?

Accepting to join another band when your heart still hurts from the sudden falling apart between your friends and band members…

“Y/n, I need the bathroom!” Hyunjin’s voice brought you back to reality and you stood up straight.

“I’m not done yet!” you yelled back. “You have another bathroom!” you added annoyingly, preparing to brush your teeth.

“Aiden hogged it. Are you naked or something? Cause I swear I don’t mind.”

You could just hear the smirk in his voice.

Rolling your eyes, you opened the door and Hyunjin gave you the elevator eyes and they lingered on your legs in the shorts you put on, going up to your chest and lingering again before he looked up at your face.

He was playing with his lip ring again, his cheeks rosy.

“What do you want?” you spat.

“Just wanna brush my teeth.” he looked at you smugly.

You didn’t say anything, just stepped aside and continued brushing your teeth.

You opted to leave the door opened since it felt awkward to have them closed.

“Isn’t this fun, us brushing our teeth together? It’s kinda domestic, don’t you think?” Hyunjin said suddenly, the familiar smirk on his face.

“Yes, thrilling.” you answered sarcastically. “You don’t have to act nice, Hyunjin. Everyone knows we hate each other so let’s just not talk too much and try to coexist peacefully for the sake of everyone else on this tour.”

Hyunjin opened his mouth to answer but you quickly turned around and left, not wanting to get into it with him when you were tired and nervous.

He smirked to himself, shaking his head.

The only thing stuck in his brain at that moment was the way you said his name.

God, he loved it.

You slept for a few hours only, waking up early yet again as the bus rolled to a stop at a diner.

“Rise and shine, princess.” Hyunjin’s head popped up in front of you as he held onto your bed.

“Fuck off.” you grabbed your pillow and smacked him with it, almost making him fall down but he managed to land on his feet.

You heard a smack and Hyunjin saying ‘ow’ quietly before Aiden said,

“Come down if you’re hungry.”

You chuckled to yourself, waiting for them to leave so you could get ready.

Of course, as soon as you sat down in a booth, Hyunjin pushed Brendon aside and quickly slid next to you.

“Oh my god.” you rolled your eyes.

You were squished between him and Ana on your other side, and he was too close for comfort.

You could feel the heat of his body and smell the scent of his shampoo and body wash mixed with cigarettes.

You tried to ignore the feelings stirring in your gut as you ordered.

“So, how did you like sleeping on top of me?” Hyunjin smirked, tilting his head.

“Not as much as you liked sleeping under me, weirdo.” you scoffed at him and he chuckled.

“I liked it very much, so that must mean you liked it at least a little.” he said as the food arrived and your stomach growled.

“Whatever you say.” you brushed him off and started to dig in.

“We’re close to our first destination.” Anthony started after a sip of coffee. “We will arrive around 4pm and have lunch, then we get ready and do the soundcheck. Questions?”

Everyone shook their heads no.

You suddenly felt nervous tingles running up your spine, and for some reason Hyunjin felt it.

“Don’t worry princess, you’ll do great.” he smirked, placing his hand on top of your wrist.

You snatched your hand away and looked at him.

“I know I will, I was just wondering if you’ll be able to keep up with me.” you smirked back at him.

“You’ll be surprised at how well I can keep up, baby.” Hyunjin leaned into your personal space, his eyes boring into yours and you felt your cheeks burning.

“Be nice, you two.” Ana chuckled.

“What? I haven't called him an asshole yet. Emphasis on yet.”

Hyunjin laughed next to you, his arm brushing against yours.

Oh, he is so going to enjoy this.

It was such a good, familiar feeling to sit behind a drum kit after being the main vocalist and guitarist of your band for so long.

The venue was empty at this moment and the sound of the drums echoing in the space was grand.

You closed your eyes and started playing a groove to get into the mood and Hyunjin was lured towards the stage instantly.

He watched you in awe even though he saw you play the drums before, they never had the name of his band on the front of them.

Hyunjin felt proud; that his band has come so far and honored that you were now a part of their story.

He hoped you’d enjoy the tour and judging by the blissful look on your face, you were off to a good start.

“Let’s go, Hyun.” Brendon smacked his shoulder, pulling him back to reality.

It was time for the soundcheck, and when everyone was finally on stage, tuning their instruments, you realized that this is real.

Excitement replaced any nerves you had and you were ready to tear the stage apart.

“Let’s jam a little.” Aiden smiled as everyone agreed.

He started to play a melody on his bass so you followed him with the drums.

You were so focused on grooving that you didn’t notice Hyunjin winking at his two other band members.

When it was time for him to start playing his guitar, Hyunjin decided to play totally out of tune.

You looked up at him with your brows furrowed as you tried to follow him.

He changed it up suddenly, that familiar shit eating grin spreading on his face as you followed him yet again.

Brendon and Aiden stopped playing as they observed the two of you, battling it out with your instruments.

Hyunjin was trying hard to get on your nerves, push your buttons but you weren’t gonna let him in.

“Having some trouble following, princess?” he yelled over the noise.

You looked at him pointedly as he started to play another melody that made no sense and you’ve had enough.

Hyunjin had a way of getting under your skin and he obviously knew that.

Your arm lifted up on its own accord and you swung one of your drumsticks right at Hyunjin, aiming for his empty head.

His eyes widened and he managed to dodge it in a close second as the drumstick clattered on the floor.

“Ha! Attempted murder! Y’all saw that!” he pointed at you, while looking at his friends and you started laughing.

“Don’t worry, even if it did hit your head, it couldn’t damage it more than it already is.” you smirked as Hyunjin huffed.

“Oh baby, keep talking. Degradation is my thing.” he motioned towards his ear with his fingers and you made a disgusted face at him.

Of course, the asshole laughed at your expression.

“Guys, can we actually practice?” Brendon chimed in as Aiden nodded.

Instead of answering verbally, you started playing so everyone joined in.

“Are you nervous?” Aiden asked as the venue filled up and it all became real.

“Nope, I’m ecstatic!” you answered, twirling your drumstick in your hand.

“Trying to murder me once again?” Hyunjin appeared next to you as you almost hit him with it.

“Trust me, if I was trying to kill you, you’d already be dead.”

“Nobody’s killing anyone, we’re already short on staff.” Anthony smirked before putting his arms around Hyunjin and Brendon’s shoulders.

“Good luck guys! And y/n, of course. I know y’all will do great.” Anthony smiled.

Ana came up to you to hug you.

“Good luck, babe!” she smiled.

“Thank you.” you gave her a bone crushing hug, she was always like a sister to you and having her here now meant a lot to you.

As soon as you walked out on stage, the screams of all the people that came to see you perform were deafening but heartwarming.

Hyunjin was the main character on stage, that you were convinced of as whatever he did resulted in even louder screaming.

You didn’t mind being the backbone of the band, playing drums to you was a meditative and transcending experience and anything you were angry or upset about, you could take it out while playing.

Performing with Lycoris Radiata was fun as fuck, even more than you hoped for; seeing Hyunjin up close made you realize just why people loved him so much.

He was charismatic, cool and lame at the same time, ethereally beautiful and down to earth, fun but sensitive, alluring but cute, he gave his all and more.

He was everything wrapped up in one and you wondered how that was possible.

A particular moment struck you; when you were playing a slower song, Hyunjin sang so delicately, his back turned to you as the lights beamed down on his frame, his sweaty hair and skin making him look like he was glowing.

Your heart skipped a beat but you ignored it.

Near the end of the show, Hyunjin did his usual routine which consisted of making everyone’s panties wet; it was time for the sex song he always sang near the end which made you feel embarrassed and uncomfortable but something about being on stage with them got you in the right mood for it.

The part came up; and Hyunjin was on the floor, moaning and humping the air as you followed his moans with the heavy sound of your drums.

Hyunjin smirked, throwing his head back to look at you as he continued his ministrations and you continued following him on the drums.

Aiden and Brendon joined in as Hyunjin became louder, resulting in you hitting the drums harder as the sounds all came together in a crescendo.

You wished that you could press your thighs together to create pressure and friction because the whole thing managed to get you wet too.

A part of you felt ashamed but you didn’t give a flying fuck in that moment, completely letting go of everything as the four of you continued jamming together.

Hyunjin stood up with the biggest smile on his face, winking at you as he ran a lap around the stage before literally diving into the audience.

You gasped to yourself but continued playing the outro to the performance while Hyunjin was being groped by horny fanboys and fangirls.

Security was there to pull him back up on stage safely and Hyunjin sang the end of the song before screaming a ‘thank you’ into the mic.

After all four of you bowed a hundred times, you finally ran backstage where a very sweaty Hyunjin started hugging everyone, eventually coming up to you.

“Don’t even think about it.” you said as he opened his arms.

“Not thinking, just doing it.” he smirked and before you could run away, his arms wrapped around you and he pulled you into his body.

“Ew!” you squirmed against him and he chuckled.

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it.” he held you tighter and your heart leaped out of your chest.

The bastard smelled so good even after sweating so much and it annoyed you how seemingly perfect he was.

“What, a gross sweaty man slobbering all over me?” you scrunched up your face as you finally pushed him away.

“I wasn’t slobbering but if you’re into that-”

“Please shut up while I’m still in a good mood.” you stopped him and he laughed.

“It’s so fun messing with you, darling.” Hyunjin ruffled your hair as you practically hissed at him, making him laugh again.

“You guys were fucking amazing!” Anthony yelled excitedly.

“I don’t know about you but I need some food.” Aiden piped in.

“I’m feeling thirsty, honestly.” Brendon added.

“Are we partying or what?” Hyunjin smirked, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Hell yeah, we are!” Anthony high-fived him.

You ended up having the afterparty in the bus, ordering some food and acquiring some beer as you sat around in the living space.

Of course, as soon as you walked in, you ran for the shower, with Hyunjin cascading behind you and asking if he could join you because “it’ll be done faster”.

“Dream about it, asshole!” you yelled before closing the bathroom door.

“Oh, I do.” Hyunjin smirked to himself, but you didn’t hear him.

The excitement of the performance slowly washed away from your body along with Hyunjin’s scent that lingered after he hugged you, and you felt happy and cozy.

All of you finally settled down to eat and Hyunjin claimed the spot next to you, of course, his long slender fingers stealing your fries constantly.

“Will you back off! You have your own fries.” you slapped his arm as he whined.

“Yours are tastier.” he claimed with that familiar smirk of his.

“Are they now?” you smirked back.

“Mhm.” he nodded pointedly.

“Let’s see then.” you grabbed your box and dumped all your fries into his box before mixing them up. “Pick one up and distinguish if it’s from your box or mine.”

Hyunjin stared at you with his lips parted before he smiled.

“Aw, we’re sharing.” he said and continued eating as you heard some chuckles around the table.

“For fucks sake.” you muttered, shaking your head.

The rest of the night was full of chatter and laughter, and you didn’t mind Hyunjin’s arm or leg brushing against you ever so often, or his loud laughter ringing in your ears or him constantly poking at you.

It’s barely been one day on tour and he wasn’t as unbearable as you thought he’d be.

Everyone was tired and you had to hit the road so it was finally peaceful, before a loud scream startled everyone.

“Oh no, I am going to die!” Hyunjin wailed dramatically.

“What’s wrong with him?” you rolled your eyes as Aiden came in.

“He lost his teddy bear.”

“He what?” you chuckled in disbelief.

“Hyunjin’s teddy, he always takes it with him. He’s had it since he was a baby and he’s convinced it brings him luck.” Aiden shrugged and Hyunjin ran into the living area.

“We are doomed!” he said, grabbing your arms and shaking you.

“Calm down, it must be around here somewhere.” you sighed.

“Help me look?” Hyunjin batted his eyelashes at you as Aiden slipped away.

“Hyunjin, I’m tired, I need to get some sleep.” you whined.

“Me too! But I can’t sleep without my teddy.” he said, you couldn’t believe he was serious. “I will crawl up to your bunk and annoy you all night if you don’t help me look.” he added, smirking.

“Fine, I’ll help you.” you rolled your eyes.

“Wow, you don’t want me in your bed at all?” he kept smirking.

“Zip it. Let’s find your precious teddy.”

“Yes!” Hyunjin scurried after you as the two of you basically did a search and rescue mission for his favorite plush.

Eventually, you walked into the other bathroom, finding the old teddy sitting on the counter.

“There you are.” you picked up, chuckling at the state of it.

You couldn’t help it as you sniffed the teddy and sure enough it smelled just like its owner.

“Found it!” you yelled and Hyunjin bursted in, panting and smiling.

“Oh my god!” he exclaimed, grabbing the teddy and then you as he enveloped you in a hug for the second time that night.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Hyunjin held you tightly and you chuckled.

“Alright, you’re thankful, I get it. You can let go now.” you said, patting his back.

“I owe you.” he muttered.

“I really didn’t do anything.”

“You did, trust me.” he smiled.

As you laid in your bunk bed that night, you couldn’t stop thinking about Hyunjin.

He seemed somehow different or you were just now seeing different sides of him that you didn’t see before.

You didn’t hate him completely.

Ten days on tour and things were going great.

Every show was better than the last one, every venue bigger than the last one, every note played made Lycoris Radiata mean more and more to you.

Tonight was no exception as you ripped the stage once again, this time Hyunjin ended up lifting Aiden and spinning him at the end which almost made the poor man throw up from excitement.

“This was Lycoris Radiata, see you next time!” and with that you ran backstage where Hyunjin had to hug everyone, even asking for a group hug.

You had to humor him.

When your head finally hit the pillow, you couldn’t sleep even though you were exhausted.

You kept replaying one particular moment from the show in your head.

It was while Hyunjin was singing his famous sex song, before the moaning part, he came up to you and sang while looking at you.

You kept playing and looking at him intently as he sang the lewd lyrics right into your face.

Before he took off, Hyunjin lifted his hand, making a V shape with his fingers, doing the licking motion between them, his tongue piercing shining in the big stage light.

Your mouth fell agape for a moment as you felt hotness spread all over your body and he smirked smugly when you made a tiny mistake in your playing.

People didn’t notice but he did.

And he was satisfied with it.

You couldn’t stop thinking about it, and it had been a while since you’ve had a little ‘you time’ but it was hard to do that with so many people in the bus.

Your eyes fluttered closed and you sighed, hearing some shuffling beneath you.

“Y/n?” Hyunjin suddenly climbed up into your bed, startling you as you sat up and turned on the little light inside.

“W-what are you doing?”

“I can’t sleep. And I figured you weren’t sleeping either.” Hyunjin whispered.

“And how did you figure that?” you clutched your blanket.

“You sighed like a hundred times.” he chuckled quietly.

“What do you want?” you rolled your eyes with a smile.

“To hang out.” he pulled out a deck of cards out of nowhere.

“We can’t make too much noise, we’ll wake everyone up.” you shook your head.

“Fine then we’ll do something quiet.” Hyunjin smirked, tossing the cards aside and laying down next to you, his eyes closing.

“Turn the light off, sweetheart.” he cracked one eye open as you stared at him in disbelief.

“You are not sleeping in my bunk. Go back downstairs.” you whispered.

“No.” he answered simply.

“Hyunjin, I’m warning you, I will push you down.”

“Will you? You’ll wake up the whole bus.” he smirked.

“God, you’re so annoying!” you whisper-yelled, giving up as you laid down, turning away from Hyunjin.

“Be nice and share your blanket.” Hyunjin’s breath hit the back of your neck, making you shiver as goosebumps rose on your skin.

“Need anything else?” you muttered as he hogged your blanket and your personal space.

“A goodnight kiss?” Hyunjin leaned over you, peering at your face hopefully.

You gave him the side eye and he chuckled.

“Maybe some other time, hm?” he asked.

“Go to sleep.” you said and he laid down behind you.

“Goodnight, darling.” Hyunjin wanted to reach out and touch your hair but he figured you’d probably break his arm.

You didn’t answer, your heart beating so hard that you were afraid it was shaking the bed and Hyunjin could feel it.

You quickly turned off the light and tried to calm down.

There was enough space to where he wasn’t touching you but you felt his warmth, his scent, his breath on your skin.

It was driving you crazy and making you feel calm at the same time.

You managed to fall asleep somehow.

At some point, in the middle of the night, Hyunjin and you gravitated closer to each other and you ended up in his arms.

When you slowly blinked your eyes open and realized you were staring straight at Hyunjin’s chest, you jolted away from him, making him groan quietly.

“Where you goin’?” he mumbled into your pillow, trying to grab you.

“As far as I can from you.” you said, wiggling out of his arm that eventually caught you as he groaned again.

“Something’s poking my ass.” Hyunjin gasped when he rolled over and you laughed.

“It’s the cards, you idiot.” rolling your eyes, you left the bunk feeling embarrassed and insane as your face heated up.

What are you doing, sleeping in the same bed as Hyunjin?

You hate him, right?

You weren’t so sure anymore.

Yes, he was annoying but somehow that became kind of endearing.

He has bugged you every single day since the tour started and if he suddenly stopped, it’d feel weird.

You sighed, shaking off your thoughts as you grabbed your phone, munching on your breakfast.

“Morning, y/n. Tell me am I crazy or did Hyunjin sleep over in your bunk?” Ana smirked at you as she brought two coffees.

“You are crazy. But yes, he slept in my bunk.” you said.

“Interesting.” she smirked, lifting one eyebrow up.

“Hey, I saw you sleeping in Anthony’s bunk multiple times. What’s that about?” you teased as you opened up your insta.

“Well, everyone knows we have a thing for each other. You and Hyunjin though… oh yeah, you have a thing too.”

“We don’t have a thing.” you quickly said as Ana chuckled.

“Right. Mhm.”

You continued scrolling, and that’s when you noticed it; the hate comments on your posts.

‘She’s just a slut who’s after Hyunjin’

‘She’s delusional if she thinks he’d like her like she’s ugly lmao’

‘Untalented bitch’

‘Get her away from my Hyunjin’

‘She deserved her band falling apart they were shit anyways’

‘Y/n should retire from the music scene’

Your eyes started stinging with tears as you skimmed through the comment section.

“What’s wrong?” Ana tilted her head to look at you.

You slid your phone to her and she gasped.

“You know these people are probably some jealous, unsuccessful suckers.” she said.

“I need some air.” you sucked in a breath before hurriedly leaving the bus.

“What’s with her?” Hyunjin walked in. “Is she mad at me?”

“No, look.” Ana showed him your phone.

Hyunjin frowned instantly, running out of the bus after you.

You stood not too far away with a cigarette in your hand as you hugged yourself with your other arm and Hyunjin’s eyes softened when he saw you shivering in the wind.

“I knew you’d forget to bring a jacket.” Hyunjin put his leather jacket around you, smoothing his hand over your back a few times.

You exhaled a puff of smoke, not answering him as you melted into his big jacket.

Hyunjin took out a cigarette for himself and you reached out with your lighter, lighting it up as he smirked.

“Since when do you smoke?” he asked.

“Well, I’m feeling extra stressed right now so I needed something to take the edge off.” you shrugged.

“Because of the comments?”

“I don’t wanna talk about them.”

“I’m sorry.” Hyunjin sighed.

“It’s not your fault.” you said.

“I feel like it is.”

Hyunjin was standing so close to you that his arm was touching yours while both of you continued smoking.

You stood silently next to each other for a few more moments as the clouds passed you by, and slowly but surely Hyunjin closed the gap between your hands as he touched yours briefly before he wrapped his pinky around yours.

“Hey, you know I’m honored you’re part of my band.” his tone was serious and you couldn’t bear to look at him or you’d burst into tears.

“I know.” you smiled as you kept looking into the distance.

He smiled too, his eyes focused on you.

Hyunjin had your back; and that was a pinky promise.

Finally, you arrived to your next destination, and you’d be there for a few days which meant you had to check into a hotel.

You were glad to have some time to yourself, you needed a real shower and a real bed and just some time to get away from everything, recharge your batteries.

You just finished with your shower and skincare when your phone annoyed you, buzzing with texts constantly.

When you grabbed it you realized that you forgot to change Hyunjin’s name from ‘asshole’.

You laughed to yourself, deciding to just add a little heart at the end.

asshole<3: y/n what are you doing

asshole<3: why aren’t you answering

asshole<3: i’m BOREEEED

asshole<3: y/n!!!!

asshole<3: princess?

asshole<3: i’m coming to your room

“Shit!” you exclaimed just in time when Hyunjin knocked on your door.

“Go away, Hyunjin!” you yelled on the other side.

“Never! I will wake the whole damn floor if you don’t open this door.” he banged against it.

“Spoiled brat.” you muttered to yourself before opening the door.

“Oh.” Hyunjin looked you up and down, your hair still wet from the shower, your little nightgown accentuating all your goodies.

“Did you dress up for me?” he smirked as his tongue darted out to play with his lip piercing; a habit you picked up on.

“Oh yeah, I was just waiting for you to come knocking on my door.” you answered sarcastically.

“Oh come on, I brought snacks.” he lifted up a few bags.

“You should’ve said that first.” you stepped aside, letting him in.

“So, are you here just because you’re bored?” you scoffed as he practically skipped to your bed before throwing himself on it.

“No, I’m here cause I know you miss me.” he smirked at you. “I spared you the walk to my room, princess.”

“Oh yeah, I am the one who missed you.” you said pointedly.

“I know you are.” he wiggled his eyebrows and you groaned, throwing a pillow at him but the slick bastard caught it.

“I’m gonna change into something else.” you said, feeling a bit self-conscious.

“Into what? After that outfit, the only logical thing is to have nothing on.”

“Wouldn’t you like that?” you snickered.

“I would.” he smirked.

“Changing right now!” you left for the bathroom to put on some actual pjs.

“Don’t cross this line, Hyunjin.” you pointed as the two of you settled in your bed, ready to watch a movie and snack.

He smiled his shit eating grin and put his finger over the line.

“Whoops, crossed it.”

“Next time you lose a finger.” you threatened.

“Where is it gonna be misplaced?” he smirked.

“Not where you think.”

“You don’t know what I’m thinking.” he leaned closer to you. “But I can show you.”

“No thanks. Just watch the movie.”

It was quiet for some time until Hyunjin spoke up.

“I’m thinking of getting another tattoo.”

“Oh?” you didn’t take your eyes off the screen. “Where?”

“My back. I wanna finish what I started with my arm and shoulder.” he answered.

“Which is?” you looked at him and he smirked.

“Glad you asked.” he said, taking his shirt off.

“Woah, woah, what are you doing?” you jolted as he tossed it aside.

“Showing you my tattoos.” he giggled. “See, it’s one big picture. I sketched the original on my paper, it’s a flower’s life story. From a little seed all the way to the dust it becomes after it wilts forever. It’s not finished yet though.” he turned and you gulped.

“That’s a beautiful thought actually.”

“Feel the flowers.” Hyunjin turned his shoulder to you.

“I’m not gonna touch your tattoos.” you said.

“Come on, you know you want to.” he taunted you.

“No, I don’t.” you shook your head.

“Yes, you do. You started ogling me as soon as I took my shirt off.”

“That’s because of your musc- nothing, nevermind.” you quickly caught yourself, biting your tongue as your face started burning.

“Because of what? My muscles? You like them?” he started flexing immediately.

“That’s disgusting, stop acting like that.” you slapped his arm without thinking and you both froze.

“Oh.” Hyunjin smirked before taking your hand in his. “Really, I want you to feel my tattoos.”

“Fine if it gets you to shut up.”

Your fingers gently traced the delicate art on Hyunjin’s skin, starting from his wrist up his arm as you watched goosebumps rise on his skin.

You took your time to trace every leaf and petal as Hyunjin looked at you intently, his breaths coming out shaky as you traced over his arm, your fingers swirling with the intricate patterns.

Your hand came up to his shoulder as you continued tracing, his skin was so smooth and he was so warm under your touch.

“Y/n.” Hyunjin whispered, his hand covering yours as he leaned in closer to you, his eyelids hooded.

Your eyes widened when you realized he was about to kiss you and you quickly moved away.

“What the hell are you doing?!” you stood up and Hyunjin frowned at you.

“What does it look like I’m doing?!”

“Trying to get into my pants!” you scoffed. “I think you should sleep in your room.”

“B-but, it’s not like that!” Hyunjin stood up and you backed away.

“I know what it’s like. Please leave.”

“Fine.” Hyunjin looked dejected as he grabbed his phone and shirt. “Teddy is lonely without me anyways.” he said, making a theatrical leave out of your room as he dragged his feet and kept giving you pointed looks.

You were almost close to telling him he can stay, but as soon as he leaned in, you panicked and didn’t know how to react so you kept your mouth shut.

And you continued spiralling when he left, thinking about if he actually likes you or just wants to fuck you like he does to any girl.

You’ve seen him with girls on his arms constantly and while you always thought what you felt was hate or disgust; in this moment you recognized it was jealousy and it didn’t feel good at all.

taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @porangporangmeong @laylasbunbunny @laughatdanger @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @starlost-mochi-x @saintcosette @ooshyana @frehyun @scarlet789 @skzdust @simpforleeknaur @schniti-is-in-the-house

part 2

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katsukisbayy · 7 months ago

Text

the kingsguard ; jisung x reader ; part vi

pairing: han jisung/reader summary: You are a queen. He is a kingsguard - a member of a holy order that vows to defend the king in the name of the gods. They forsake all earthly goods and swear a vow of chastity to avoid all worldly temptation. When he stands in as proxy for the royal wedding, all those vows are tested.

content info: reader described with curly hair. this is the second to last chapter.

content warnings: the previously established story dynamics continue in this chapter. this chapter has a very explicit sex scene with reader/jisung. desperation, vow-breaking, grinding, making out, cunnilingus, piv, secret forbidden love affair, having to be quiet to not get caught, covering each other's mouths, generally lots of description of worship in a sexual context.

chapter word count: 14000 words.

enjoy <3

You wake, having dreamt about Jisung in the hours since he departed. As if he has not entirely consumed your waking thoughts, he has even stolen into your dreams. He is there with a smile, a song, and so much tenderness that you are aching in desperation from the moment you open your eyes.

“Oh,” is all you say, a whisper in your empty bed.

You rise and dress yourself, already mentally bracing for the long day ahead. Though you are determined to navigate yourself through the viper’s nest that is the king’s court, you must be very cautious while doing so. There are real, deadly ramifications for what you did – for what you want to do again. Though you will strive to maintain whatever possible liberties, you must not become complacent in the meanwhile.

You do not want this to end before it can truly begin.

You fear the light of day will reveal everything that transpired. You feel it in yourself, a revolution, not just in the literal aches and tingles, but something in the very core of your being. You feel like someone will see it a glance, in the way you move or carry yourself. How could they not? It changed everything.

Your first encounter is Changbin. There was another guard switch in the early hours of morning, sparing Minho some rest before due departure. You are glad. Minho heard everything last night and you were not keen on starting the day with that confrontation. He has proven himself to be reliable, having returned the sleeping draft with little reservation, and he is clearly an intimate companion that Jisung trusts wholeheartedly, so it is not his stalwart dependability that makes you hesitate – just pure embarrassment.

Changbin does not seem to notice anything untoward, not a single remark against your disposition, so you safely exhale as he escorts you through the camp.

The king is still sleeping and no one is brave enough to prod him awake. He will probably be angry in either scenario, so it has been decided to let him lay until he stirs on his own.

It feels as though the entire contingency has released a long-held breath. There is chatter and some games, people wandering about, eating and ambling without the stress of a holy gaze and its accompanying vocal thunder.

Foot soldiers mill about the camp. Chan guards the king. Seungmin and Jeongin scout the perimeter for dangerous activity, on greater alert because of the assassination attempt.

That leaves the remaining few kingsguards nearby. Minho is slouched against a tree, peeling an orange, laughing at Hyunjin and Jisung who are locked in a very theatrical swordfight. Changbin is clearly eager to join, so you get some food then happily head in that direction.

“Yah, you call that fighting?” Changbin teases.

Jisung turns, just a brief glance of acknowledgement until he sees you and stumbles. His sword is loose in his grip, like he has forgotten all his training, like he doesn’t even remember being a kingsguard.

You forget yourself too, staring back, mouth open with some pleasant greeting utterly obliterated in the face of his longing gaze. Last night should have tempered all this quiet yearning, but it seems to have exacerbated it.

Fortunately, this exchange is only seconds, though it feels like hours. Jisung might have forgotten himself but Hyunjin has not. He knocks Jisung on the back and Jisung falls over, sword flying and palms skidding across the forest floor. He coughs through the little puff of dirt that bursts under impact.

“Tsk, task,” Changbin continues to tease. “You make it too easy.”

“Ah-ha-ha,” Jisung says, clapping his hands to clean them. He stands then bends at the waist, bowing to you. “Your Majesty. Good morning.”

“Good morning,” you reply, dipping your head respectfully in turn. You greet Hyunjin as he bows too.

You look at Minho long enough for him to bow his head then smile. It is not taunting, at least not with any true malice. An amused dimple indents his cheek and there is a sparkle in his eye.

“Your Majesty,” he says. “I hope you slept well.”

“Quite fine,” you say, feeling very hot in the face.

“Ah.” Minho wiggles an orange slice. “Just fine, hm?” He looks at Jisung and cackles maniacally at his exasperated expression. He pops the orange slice into his mouth and smiles while chewing.

Hyunjin looks at him funny but Changbin is non-plussed, unintentionally diverting the conversation when he says, “The king is sleeping more than fine, hey.”

This distracts Hyunjin who immediately scoffs. He tosses his sword, spinning it with a flick of his wrist, and catches it just as smoothly. He opens his mouth to speak.

Changbin interjects, “Ah, ah, ah, you watch your pretty mouth. You’ve blasphemed enough, kingsguard.”

“Kingsguard.” Hyunjin looks at his sword, runs his finger up the shiny reflection with a contemplative regard. “There’s no king here right now,” he says. “That makes me a queensguard, doesn’t it?”

“It’s the same thing,” Changbin says, diplomatic.

Hyunjin smiles, though it lacks amusement, just a dry upturn of his lips.

“If you insist,” he says.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Jisung sings, wiggling into the middle of their rapport. “King, queen, god, man – a vow is a vow. We all know why we’re here, right? Right. Right. Awesome.”

“I know why you’re here,” Hyunjin says, tapping Jisung with the blunt flat of his sword. “It was to lose against me, as usual, wasn’t it?”

“Ohhhh-ha-ha!” Jisung slashes his sword through the air with an ostentatious flourish. “The pretty boy has jokes now.”

“Bard boy,” Hyunjin retorts, teasing. He curls his fingers, gesticulating for an approach. “If you dare.”

The boys return to their fighting, as playful as it is impressive. You seat yourself beside Minho, though the sight of the queen on the forest ground does make Changbin squeak. Fortunately, he does not protest, and Minho seems to understand your character well enough that it does not surprise him at all. He simply hands you an orange slice.

You watch Hyunjin and Jisung, smiling as they parry. Minho and Changbin explain some of the manoeuvres, bringing an understanding to the harmony of their frantic steps and slashes.

It is not surprising there is so much detail in even the simplest action. The kingsguards do not fight with half-hearted swings, nor do they stumble with overemotional, retaliatory strikes. Every step, every parry, every breath, is so carefully planned, so meticulously practiced, so utterly engrained in their every movement.

In truth, you see it even when they are at rest. Chan is the most natural with his authoritative air and quick reactions, having trained for so much of his youth. Hyunjin moves with a dance-like fluidity even when he is not fighting, as if his long limbs are cutting through water. Minho has a limber quick-footedness, sometimes disguised in an insouciant slouch, but quick to action when the inclination so strikes. Every action that Changbin makes is a powerful one, as precise as it is strong. Jeongin and Seungmin both have keen eyes and quick reflexes, their training and perseverance plain in every dedicated movement.

Han Jisung is good at everything. He can play at unassuming, so much so even the king does not see his utmost capabilities, but it is obvious that he has a vast repertoire of skill to call upon at any given moment.

Watching him and Hyunjin fight is exhilarating. As you begin to understand their footwork and motions, it becomes even more impressive.

“Show her the double knot,” Minho says, calling out like a spectator at a show.

He clearly delights in pestering his friends, but Jisung and Hyunjin are having fun. They both relish the opportunity to flaunt their skills so they happily indulge his request.

With wide eyes, you watch their swords clash. Sparks burst where the metal scrapes at the angle of collision. The men whirl around each other and bring their swords together again. They continue to weave and parry, every step lightning quick. It appears to be a defensive manoeuvre rather than an assault, but it is an extraordinary feat of speed and fortitude regardless.

“Well done,” you say, applauding.

Jisung sweeps into an exaggerated bow only for Hyunjin to kick him over. You laugh as he chases after Hyunjin with sword raised, as if he intends to clobber him with it. It makes Hyunjin laugh too, his face so bright when overcome with delight. He clearly feels all his emotions very strongly. You believe all these brave young men fight with as much as emotion as skill. The kingsguard service is not just about soldiership, but faith and all that which is contained in the heart.

They deserve a far better companion than the tyrant king. That is what their monarch should be, a companion, a friend, a being more heart than ego.

“I am duly impressed,” you say when the boys finish another bout.

By now, their breathing is a little heavier. The morning is creeping toward noon, the heat intensifying with each passing moment. You are tucked in the shade but the kingsguards move in and out of sunlight, no doubt warm in their black robes. Still, they do not remove it.

Not right now at least, you think, looking at the swish of Jisung’s cloak, remembering as it fell from his shoulders and he fell into your arms. You feel flustered, letting the memory of each touch wash over you. When Jisung finds your gaze, you swear you can see his own recollections teeming.

“Show her the Levanter,” Minho calls, interrupting your shared daydreaming.

Jisung snaps out of it. He looks at Minho with a sardonic quirk of his brow.

“Oh, now he’s got jokes too,” Jisung says, pointing to Minho while Hyunjin laughs.

“The Levanter,” you repeat the word slowly, letting the weight of it linger. “Levanter – like the god?”

“The god of guardians,” Hyunjin says with a blazing look in his eye. He tips his head back, gazing heavenward as he points with his sword to the skies. “Levanter stands guard at the gates of the heavens. The eternal vow-keeper. He has never surrendered his post.”

“Yes,” you say, nodding respectfully. “I imagine the kingsguard revere him most of all.”

“All the scripture is important,” Changbin adds, nodding too. “But yes, the kingsguard order prays to Levanter for guidance before the rest.”

“You do him a service,” you say. “I suppose the Levanter manoeuvre must be particularly noteworthy to be named after him.”

“You can say that,” Jisung says with a little laugh. He runs his fingers through his hair.

You feel like a prepubescent girl again, warm and flushed just watching his dark hair feather through his fingers, watching those fingers come down to his sword hilt, watching the movement of his hand as he grasps and twists.

Truthfully, you forget your question – or was it a statement? – and it takes Minho gently nudging you to remember.

“Levanter,” you say, shaking your head. You smile politely. “What is the manoeuvre then?”

Minho cackles. Changbin reaches down to cuff him across the back of his head. Minho snaps his jaws in return, like he intends to gnaw on Changbin like a disgruntled kitten.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Changbin says. To you, he speaks more politely, “The Levanter is not a manoeuvre that can actually be performed.”

“Well, it can be,” Jisung corrects, slashing his sword through the air. He grins, a big, theatrical smile, wiggling his eyebrows. “But it can only be performed once.”

“Only once,” you say. “What do you mean?”

“All kingsguards are trained to master all manoeuvres and operations,” Hyunjin says, speaking a little more seriously than the others, still with that reverent look in his eye. “But the Levanter has only been used a few times over the centuries. It’s an… honourable death and killing.”

“Death and killing,” you repeat. Your stomach twists with a little bit of anxiety, the weight this implication landing. Though you know there is no real danger right at this precise moment, considering such dramatic circumstances makes you uneasy. “You mean…”

“It kills your opponent,” Jisung says, voice a little softer, perhaps seeing the unease on your face. “It just… also kills…”

“Yourself,” you say, to which they both nod. “Surely, there would never be a reason for such a manoeuvre?”

“Not necessarily,” Hyunjin says, a little less attuned to your discomfort, more excited to explain himself. He sheathes his sword while speaking. “It’s the last and final option for a kingsguard, when he has no other choice in front of him. If death is inevitable, there is no dishonour in ending your own life if it means fulfilling your service to defend the crown. So… in example… if a kingsguard was taken by an enemy who meant to torture or use them against heaven’s earthly sovereign, then it would be appropriate for the kingsguard to take action, to kill his opponent and himself so he could not be used.”

“My goodness,” you say. “That – that’s very – ”

“It looks like this,” Hyunjin says.

He draws a dagger from the folds of his robes, a weapon you did not even realize was concealed in the swathes of dark fabric. In a blink, he draws back his arm and hurls the dagger. It whizzes past Jisung and thuds into a tree. You do not even have the chance to gasp before Hyunjin has drawn his sword and turned it towards himself. He slams onto his knees, sliding the sword safely along his side and tucking it under his arm.

You understand. The kingsguard would throw a dagger at his opponent, killing them with a fatal injury, and he would just as swiftly fall on his own sword. It would not slide past his side, but through his ribs and into his own heart. He would kill both of them in one stroke. It would take a lot of precision, but that would be easy for a soldier like Hyunjin, who is primarily a bowman. Aim and precision is his specialty.

You don’t want to imagine it, though. Jisung is right; this manoeuvre can only be performed once. Hyunjin’s demonstration is harmless but you understand the visual, regardless.

“My goodness,” you say again. “I knew the kingsguard was devout, but that… that…”

“Like we said before,” Jisung says gently. “It’s easy to be devout when the queen is true. Your Majesty, you are worth that.”

You are worth dying for, he means, gazing at you with those shiny dark eyes. It is an extraordinary proclamation. It makes your breath catch.

“I appreciate the sentiment,” you say. You manage to speak softly, though your heart thumps heavily. “But I would prefer my queensguards live for me instead.”

“Your Majesty,” Hyunjin says, bowing.

The conversation is swiftly halted by a familiar raging voice. The king has risen and he is not happy.

What a surprise, you think. Though no one vocalizes the sentiment, the frowns and sighs reveal a similar thought in your guards. Despite the obvious reluctance, the king must be greeted, so the guards sheath their weapons and compose themselves.

Changbin offers his hands and pulls you to your feet. You accept his arm as he escorts you towards the centre of the camp. Servants are bustling about, frantically tearing down what remains of the encampment. They were taking their time as the king slept, but now it is well past departure time and he has no patience for dithering.

Chan is beside the king, looking gloomy and austere. His hand flexes on the hilt of his sword. He stares at the king and only moves when he sees you.

Flanked by guards, your approach is difficult to ignore. The king stutters in his speechifying.

“You.” He hurls the word.

You do not match his conduct. You remain stoic and graceful, simply dipping into a respectful bow of greeting. You say nothing and hope nothing is all he sees. His glare is so fiery that you believe he might suspect you are responsible for his impromptu slumber. However, he clearly cannot comprehend how that would be.

You are not forthcoming. You simply stand before him, eyes downturned, with no answers to be given.

He takes a breath. It sounds like preparation to bellow.

Before he can shout or accuse or even blink, there is a mad disruption in the camp. The kingsguards grab their sword hilts, forming a protective circle around just you. Chan grips his own sword hilt, striding forward to see what is causing the commotion.

It is Seungmin and Jeongin, riding into the camp like there are devils on their tails.

“Assassins,” Seungmin says, stopping just in front of Chan. It takes him a second to calm his excited horse, trotting back and forth as he looks down at the kingsguard captain. “We were scouting the perimeter, behind and ahead,” Seungmin continues. “Some of the bandits from the unit the other day – they were camped not far from the main road. They know we’re travelling that way. They know—” He looks at you, solemn. “They know we have something they want.”

“The queen is in danger!” Jeongin blurts. He looks a little more frantic than Seungmin, his horse equally agitated. His expression is screwed up tight with lines of anxiety. “Chan – Captain – We have to do something.”

“Ridiculous,” the king says. “There’s no more bandits on these roads. The queen is not in any danger. We cannot waste more time with delays. I want to be back in the capital by—”

“Your Majesty,” Chan says, facing him squarely. “Can you confirm unequivocally there are no more bandits waiting in those trees?” His expression perceptibly darkens, downright menacing with the intensity of his stare. “And if so, would you mind explaining where and how you acquired that knowledge?”

The camp feels very silent. Only the horses dare to make noise, plodding back and forth. Seungmin soothes his animal, brushing his hand along the mane. He, like everyone else, is looking at the king.

Chan’s accusation is plain. He looks at the king and challenges him. He outright dares him to admit that the previous attack was targeted against you and that he arranged it. Of course, the king does not admit this, but he has no other answer prepared either. He stumbles over an aggrieved retort. In the time it takes him to think, Chan shakes his head.

“There is only one road between here and the capital big enough for a caravan to pass,” Chan says. “It doesn’t surprise me enemies would wait on it.”

He approaches you. You hands began trembling from the first mention of the assassins, but your fear is somewhat assuaged by the protective circle of your guards. Chan looks at them, then bows his head to you.

“Your Majesty,” he says. “It’s obvious these roads are not safe at this time. If I may, I would like to separate you from the rest of the royal train.”

The king scoffs indignantly but you feel relief regardless. Chan is separating you from the royal retinue. More importantly, he is separating you from the king. It feels like a weight slides right off your shoulders. You have won some more time and distance.

“There are faster paths to the capital,” he says. “But they won’t fit the wagons. Changbin, I’ll leave you in charge of leading the train back to the city without me, and I’ll personally take the queen ahead. You continue as planned and be mindful of any attacks. We’ll be long gone before anyone realizes we’re not with the caravan.”

“You will do such thing!” the king snaps. “Am I to be used as bait to lure these assassins while you protect that disobedient creature? Remember your vows, captain!”

Chan is facing you, his back to the king. You watch his expression contort with frustration, a muscle in his jaw twitching as he holds that anger within. You do not remotely blame him. It is preposterously insulting for the king to accuse him of disrespecting his vows after everything the king has done.

Despite his aggravation, Chan maintains composure, turning to face the king.

Chan is not especially giant, not in physicality. The king is technically taller than him. However, the kingsguard captain has such a domineering and confident air that it somehow dwarfs other men in relation. The king has to make a point of holding his head up, but Chan overwhelms him with his sheer presence.

“You’re right, Your Majesty,” Chan says, an edge to his voice despite the respectful address. “I’ve sworn a vow as kingsguard leader to always stay at your side.”

“Precisely,” the king says. He glances at you with a smug little smirk, clearly feeling that he has wrestled back his control.

It takes a great deal of effort not to return a glare. You let a breath shudder past your lips. Hopefully it is mistaken for nerves and not irritation.

“Yes,” Chan continues. “That’s why I and the lower soldiers will stay behind to take you back to the capital.” He looks at the guards gathered around you. “And the rest of the kingsguards will escort the queen.”

“What!” The king reacts like he was slapped.

You try not to laugh, swallowing the sound. Hyunjin barely restrains it as his shoulders jump. Jisung bites his bottom lip and looks at you sidelong. You look back, smiling the subtlest smile you dare.

“It’s the only choice of action, Your Majesty,” Chan says to the king, speaking with saccharine sweetness, as if explaining a complicated concept to a child. “The gods-chosen queen has to be protected. And because I have to stay with you, it goes without saying that the remaining guards have to stay with her. We can’t allow any harm to come to her, can we? Because that would be a violation of your vows.” With that, Chan’s expression turns menacing again, brows slanting into an angry furrow. “And you don’t want to be the first king in centuries to stand in violation of his vows. Do you?”

The king has no reply. The blatant threat stuns him into uncharacteristic silence.

“Good,” Chan says, smiling. “I’m glad we agree. It’s the will of the gods, after all. Seungmin, Jeongin.” He turns to the guards. “Pack the horses accordingly. Bring a tent and bedroll for the queen. Pack lightly, though. Speed is imperative. Changbin, Minho, come with me and we’ll map your route to the capital. If something happens, you’ll send a rider out to me. You should arrive at least a week ahead of us if you maintain pace.”

The king flounders, his mouth open with an interjection, but he is not afforded a moment to speak. Chan is moving from person to person, issuing orders.

“Hyunjin, Han,” Chan says. “Ensure the queen has everything she needs. My Queen, I apologize, but for the sake of your safety you may not be able to travel in the most comfort, and I would recommend you bring only the necessities. We will safely deliver the rest of your trunks and belongings within the week.”

“Captain.” You lay a hand over your heart, full of gratitude. “I understand completely. I commend your quick thinking. You are an exemplary credit to your gods and the crown.”

“I’m glad you think so, Your Majesty,” Chan says, bowing. “Safe travels.” He turns to the king and gestures ahead, lifting a pointed brow. “Well, we better hurry, Your Majesty. As you were saying before, we don’t want to waste more time, do we? It’s you and me now. Without all these distractions, we’ll have opportunities in the nights ahead to pray to the gods for their revelation, provided you don’t fall asleep before we can.”

Remarkably, you keep a straight face as Chan and the king retreat. You, Hyunjin, and Jisung quietly make your way to the wagon with your trunks. When safely out of sight of the sovereign and his clever captain, the three of you exchange a glance and promptly dissolve into laughter. You try to contain it, desperately shaking your head, but it’s no use. Hyunjin leans against the wagon, eyes closed while a laughing tear slides down his cheek. Jisung doubles over, hands on his knees and shoulders shaking.

“Did you see his face?” Jisung wheezes. He stands up, holding his middle like the laughter caused a strain. “Ohhhh, sweet gods. Forgive me.” He makes the gesture of a blessing, crossing the symbol over his body and gazing heavenward. It doesn’t stop his incessant giggling.

“Shhh,” you say because it is appropriate, though your own laughter is still flowing.

Hyunjin covers his mouth and releases the rest of his laughter in the cup of his hand. When you are all settled, you finish your task, only the occasional giggle as interruption. You pack a small bag of necessities then meet the other kingsguards where they are arranging the horses. The rest of the camp continues to prepare its own journey, though a few people watch as the kingsguards gather. They make quite a sight, forming arrangement on horseback, their black robes flowing around them.

Of course, the king does not see the value of their presence. He focusses on a ridiculous detail, pointing to Hyunjin as the kingsguard mounts his horse.

“She is not to ride with that one!” the king says.

Hyunjin lays a hand over his heart, closing his eyes and looking dramatically sorrowful.

“Han,” Chan says. He sighs and gestures to Jisung. “If you don’t mind taking the queen again.”

Minho laughs. He is perched on his own horse, reigns in one hand, rubbing the bridge of his nose with the other.

“Of course,” Jisung says. He bows quickly to Chan then spins towards you. His hand emerges from the dark layers of his robes, held out to you in offering.

He is wearing riding gloves, leather covering each finger to the knuckle. You gaze at that hand and remember every tender touch. It is remarkable that this same hand is used to fight.

You lay your hand in his. Even with the leather barrier, sparks ignite where your palms touch. A frisson ripples all through your body, a still pond brought to life by a dropped pebble.

He smiles at you, releases a breath of a laugh. The tips of his ears are more than a little red, but no one else looks for that detail. The king is glaring at Hyunjin who is simply staring at his own nails. Chan is speaking with Minho who has assumed position at the front of the little contingency.

Jisung holds your hand and takes the reigns of his horse with the other. He guides you to the middle of the protective circle of guards. Minho takes the lead, Seungmin and Jeongin flanking either side of you, with Hyunjin and Changbin defending the rear.

You nod at them, smiling. Jisung squeezes your hand as he turns you around to face him. Your breath catches yet again when your eyes meet. You fall into those dark eyes so easily, deep brown and fathomless. You like his face so much, the softness of his features, the openness of his expression.

He takes your waist in his hands. There is a swooping rush in your belly as he lifts you. So distracted with his eyes and face, you almost forgot what strength is hidden in the layers of holy black cloth. He helps you onto the horse then smoothly swings up behind you.

He lands with a soft little bounce, comfortably settling himself. He flicks his robes with an unnecessary flourish and you bite your bottom lip to keep from giggling. He puts a finger to his lips, playfully scolding you.

“You are incorrigible,” you murmur.

His arms move around you as he picks up the reigns. His hips come forward, his chest against your back. A flush of warmth moves through you. It starts somewhere intimate, lower than that swooping rush, your body remembering all the way he touched you and aching for it again. It startles you, how easily that feeling comes, when you never felt it before. Now it is all you can think about, his body against yours, his breath on the nape of your neck.

“Am I?” he asks in a soft, light voice.

“Oh yes,” you answer quickly. It makes him laugh.

The king is not pleased with laughter, but the king does not have a chance to say anything. Chan steps away from Minho and waves him forward. Minho whistles and seconds later, the kingsguards are rearing into action. The guards answer with a shout here and there, the horses kick with adrenaline, then the whole party bursts like lightning, fast as they fire across the earth and away from camp.

You look over your shoulder, watching as the waiting figures shrink in size. The king disappears before long and you smile, settling comfortably with Jisung’s arms around you.

You ride fast, careening down forest trails and cresting small hills far faster than the royal retinue would lumber along.

Rest comes sooner too. The kingsguards dismount to water their horses and themselves.

Jisung leaps off his horse and holds out his arms to you. You thank him, sliding into his waiting embrace where you linger just a moment too long.

His eyes stray to a frizzy curl on your head. Instinctively, he smooths it out. You feel it all the way down your body, right to your toes. You are a little sore from such hard riding, so maybe that explains how you shake, knees knocking as his fingertips sweep down the side of your face.

“There,” he says, meeting your gaze with a smile.

“Quite,” you reply.

It is not what you want to say. You want to ask when you can touch each other again and if he even wants to, though you suspect he does. It’s in his eyes, the way he looks at every part of you. It’s all-encompassing, fond and wanting, lingering too long in the places he dares to look. He stares into your eyes, studies your expressions, gazes at your mouth.

Yes, that makes your lips part as if in natural obedience. His tongue touches his bottom lip and you feel tingles. You know what that mouth feels like on your skin. Just the recollection makes your insides melt. How did you even survive that? You want to try again and find out.

Now is not the time. The king might be far away but the kingsguards surround you. You trust Minho, but it is hard to say how the others might react. Hyunjin clearly does not respect the king, having decided he is not the true representation of the gods, but it is obvious this feeling derives from a steadfast devotion. Just because he does not like the king, it does not mean he will be okay with Jisung breaking his vows. The same goes for the others. They are your allies for now and you need to keep them on your side before pushing further.

This attraction is difficult to navigate. You are not experienced with desire, having avoided it thus far in life. It suited you then, but things are different with Jisung. You find yourself reaching for him without thinking, brushing some hair across his forehead, then letting the back of your knuckles skim his cheek. When he makes a light sound, an airy whine just from that simple touch, your poor trembling legs nearly give up altogether.

Fortunately, you maintain your faculties. You manage to separate when Jeongin approaches. He does not remark on the intimacy of that fleeting exchange nor does he appear to notice at all. His eyes are locked on some distant point, brow furrowed with deeply set anxiety. His hand is on the hilt of his sword, gripping it so tightly it shakes a little. His hair is dishevelled and not just from the exertion of riding, but like he has been frantically jamming his fingers in it, tugging at the scalp with fright.

“Kingsguard Jeongin,” you say with a nod of acknowledgement. “Is there something you need?”

He shakes his head. He nods. He shakes his head again.

“Uh, you all right, man?” Jisung asks.

Jeongin abruptly drops to his knees and throws his hands together in supplication. He closes his eyes but it does not stop the few tears that fall.

“Oh!” you yelp, startled.

“Whoa, hey!” Jisung says. “Kid, what’s wrong?”

“Your Majesty, please forgive me,” Jeongin begs. “And please ask the gods to forgive me too.”

“Jeongin,” you say, touching the top of his head. It makes him shiver. “Jeongin, what is it?”

“I lied to His Holiness,” Jeongin whispers. He opens his watery dark eyes and looks up at you, brows knitting with his sorrow. “I lied to Kingsguard Seungmin too. And Captain Chan. And to you.” This final syllable is punched out with a sob. He wipes his eyes. “I know I shouldn’t have. I’m a kingsguard. I always have to make an honest report. But I – I couldn’t – I didn’t want to watch—”

“Jeongin.” You sink into a crouch so you can meet his gaze properly. It makes his eyes widen and you think he might leap away, but your hand on his shoulder seems to steady him again. “What did you lie about?”

“There were no assassins on the road,” he says. “I told Seungmin there was. I lied and I said it was too many for us to fight alone. I said we had to tell Chan first. I hoped if Chan thought there was a threat, he would send you down a different path, and I was right.”

“Jeongin,” you say, rubbing his tense shoulder. “Jeongin, it’s all right. If I may, I just don’t understand why you did it?”

He obviously did not lie for the sake of itself, given he is so distraught. It must have been a drastic decision for it to weigh so heavily now.

He sniffles.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “It wasn’t my place. The king has – the king has rights. He’s the king. I know. I know. But—” He wipes his face and looks at you, imploring with his eyes. “But he was going to hurt you the first chance he had,” Jeongin says. “But you’re so – you’re so kind. Your Majesty, it’s not right. I didn’t want to watch him hurt you. I couldn’t watch him hurt you.”

“Oh, Jeongin,” you say. You are so moved by his emotion that it leaves you stricken for a moment. You can only stare at him. Then, without thinking, you throw your arms around him. Though it startles him at first, he slowly returns the embrace. “You’re a very thoughtful man,” you say, your chin on his trembling shoulder. “I could never hold any grudge against such a heartfelt action.”

“So I’m forgiven?” he asks.

“You were never blamed, Jeongin,” you say, leaning back to look at him. You cup his face and smile, your own eyes watery. “Thank you,” you whisper.

He nods and accepts your hands when you offer them. You stand first and he bows his head to you, forehead pressed to your knuckles, then he rises as well. He bows one more time before he looks at the other kingsguards. They went silent at his confession, all standing near their horses, contemplative looks on their faces.

“Do we… go back?” Seungmin asks.

They look at Minho. Minho looks at you. His face is pensive, not at all like that laughing jokester from this morning. When he wants to be, his face is the most stoic, not revealing a single thought despite the scrutiny of his gaze.

Finally, he shakes his head. He looks at his horse, rubbing its nose.

“There’s no harm in continuing our course,” he says. “The king would just be agitated, hm? We’ll spare him the trouble.”

“Agreed,” Changbin says, though he cuffs Jeongin on the arm. “You will pray for revelation tonight. And you’ll take care of the horses.”

“I will too,” Seungmin says, stepping forward and bowing his head. “Honestly, I thought something was suspicious with his report. I should have investigated myself and I didn’t, because I wanted the same thing as him.”

“Fine,” Changbin says. “Both of you then.”

It is menial as far as punishments go, though you wish there was no repercussions at all. They both acted on your behalf, but a kingsguard is not supposed to have such an emotional response and certainly never to the end of betraying his vows for even a moment. Lying is a sin. Lying to holy king, more so.

You look at Jisung. Perhaps surprisingly, he does not look especially shaken. He exhales heavily, noisily fluttering his lips as if to make a point of his resignation. When he looks at you, he winks. It makes your voice catch, mouth open but words caught.

He smiles and puts his hand on your lower back, guiding you forward.

“Your Majesty,” he says. “Come on. Let me get you some water.”

If Jisung is not afraid right now, then you will not be either. Still, you look at Jeongin over your shoulder. The guards all return to chatting while you let your mind wander.

You are determined that no one will ever again be punished on your behalf. You do not know how you will handle the king and the days to come, but you will think of something. You must think of something. Things cannot continue the way they have been. Jisung’s affection has caused a revolution inside of you. You will use those feelings for good. Through his bravery and kindness, you will similarly impact your world.

You have spent your life passively receiving your fate. You were never motivated to seek more. That has changed. You have feelings now.

Things will change. You will change them.

You stop in a riverside clearing just before nightfall. Though your journey cuts through the forest, you weave back towards the water to make camp.

Changbin and Minho take some time to peruse their maps and confirm their bearings, meanwhile Seungmin and Jeongin build and organize your little tent. The boys will sleep on their bedrolls under the stars, the clear summer night permitting it, but it would not be appropriate for the queen to lay on the ground all night.

You refuse to be totally useless so you go with Hyunjin and Jisung to collect some firewood. They cut some larger pieces of wood and collect rocks while you gather sticks for kindling. They show you how to arrange everything, then how to ignite a flame using a couple of twigs.

The sun teeters on the horizon, a slash of orange darting through the lavender light of evening. The faintest breath of wind stirs through dark locks of hair. The boys decide they want to wash themselves while it is still relatively warm enough. They go in groups of three so you are never left alone.

The kingsguards may be tasked with watching the royal personage at all times in all circumstances, but that does not run the opposite direction. It would be rather inappropriate for the queen to sit shoreside and ogle her naked guards as they splash around in the river.

The nudity of bathing does not carry any shame, but these are kingsguards. Their black robes feel like a part of them. Even Jisung has not fully stripped in front of you. The most skin you have seen came from Hyunjin when he was forced to disrobe for a whipping and that was not consensually granted.

You are content to sit by the fire and listen to them on the other side of the treeline. Jisung, Seungmin, and Jeongin bathe first, a rowdy little trio by the sounds of it. Changbin and Hyunjin chuckle at their theatrics while Minho smiles. They share some food and conversation with you.

It is very calm and pleasant. You feel like you can truly relax for the first time in days. Even when the king was unconscious, the camp itself was always bustling with so many bodies and animals. The encampment felt like a small city unto itself. This is very different, slower and quieter but still very safe. Yes, despite the darkening woods and the eerie quiet of its shadows, you are not afraid. Changbin is at your side, Jisung is laughing somewhere, and Minho’s keen eyes are darting to and fro. You have never felt more safe.

Of course, this arrangement is so intimate that you suspect it will be harder to be truly alone with Jisung. It was easier to slip away in the busy crowd, but there is no where to hide in this clearing.

It’s fine. You can wait. Patience, temperance, and self-denial are well-practiced traits of yours.

So you think until Han Jisung jumps some shrubbery and skips towards the fire. He is wearing his shirt and pants again, though his outer robes are draped over his arm. He is still damp, droplets of water slipping down the subtle but firm curve of his biceps. He runs his fingers through his wet black hair, pushing it out of his eyes. When he smiles at you, it makes you understand how poets like him can write endless songs about a single muse. You wish you could better articulate just how deeply that smile touches you.

Certain you will give yourself away otherwise, you do not smile back, dipping your gaze back to the fire and cramming some food in your mouth. Minho gives you an amused look from the other side of the fire and it makes your face feel even hotter.

Jisung takes a seat beside you. A bedroll has been unfurled for your comfort and he sits just beside it, laying his robes on his other side. He groans with satisfaction as he stretches his arms towards the fire.

You chew your food with more concentration than it warrants, trying to ignore the flush caused by his unthinking moan. It might be part of his silly theatrics but you will never hear that sound without thinking of the noises he made when inside you: his heavy breathing and the low pleasured moans exhaled softly into the tender skin of your throat as your bodies came together again and again.

Jisung glances at you but you avoid his gaze, still too flustered to look at him. Fortunately, Seungmin and Jeongin arrive seconds later. They are also in their shirts and pants. While it is undoubtedly strange to see the kingsguards in that state, it does not affect you the same way. It really is just Han Jisung, with his laughter and poetry, his silliness and seriousness alike.

Changbin, Minho, and Hyunjin leave to bathe. Seungmin, Jeongin, and Jisung eat their share, continuing some silly jesting they started at the river. They tease each other and make you laugh.

Jeongin is the first to stand, sighing to himself.

“I’m going to say my prayers now,” he says. “Like I was told, until I feel the gods’ revelation.”

“I’ll go too,” Seungmin says, standing as well. “Like I promised.”

You and Jisung nod. You spare the boys a final glance that you hope conveys your gratitude. You think it does because they both smile back. They take their robes and venture further into the woods, presumably to be alone with the gods.

Hyunjin, Changbin, and Minho are noisy but it is in the distance. In the little space between you and Jisung, there is silence, only the fire crackling.

You finally dare to meet his eye, each of you shyly glancing at the other. He seems to have a slight blush but maybe that is the flames.

“So,” you say.

Changbin shouts something silly at Hyunjin. Jisung looks in that direction before smiling an awkward sort of smile. He rubs the back of his neck as he gazes at you.

You both understand that you are not truly alone. He knows how precarious the situation is. He clearly trusts Minho but is not sure how the others will react. It is safer to keep your distance for now.

“Are you excited to be back in the capital?” you ask.

This causes his eyes to light up, bright as the flames. His smile similarly jumps.

“Yeah, actually!” he says. “You know, there’s some places I think you would like. I wish I could take you there.”

You do not want to feel sad tonight, do not want to lament a life you do not have. You want to imagine a reality where everything is possible. Although poignancy tugs at your heartstrings, you rise above it, smiling at him.

“Talk to me as if we will go,” you say.

Some of the sadness seeps from his gaze. The corners of his eyes crinkle when he smiles, a true smile.

“There are some amazing gardens, you know,” he says. “Acres of tulips in more colours than you can imagine. And an orchard of cherry blossom trees. It’s – it’s very beautiful in the springtime.”

“Oh,” you say, swallowing. “I think I will love it.”

“You will,” he says. “You definitely will. I can’t wait for you to see it. There’s a tea house on the property. They make a cherry tisane. It sounds like something you’d enjoy. I’ve noticed you have taste for sweet things. You were—” He giggles now, miming licking his fingertips. “You were licking some sugar off your fingers in the first village when you thought no one was looking.”

“I should have known I would be caught,” you say, laughing.

“Yes,” he says, still grinning. “I couldn’t take my eyes off you if I tried.”

“I know what you mean,” you reply softly. “There was a bard at the banquet who sang so beautifully that it pulled me out of a lethargy I did not even realize I had slumped into.”

“Oh wow,” Jisung says, blinking quickly, his eyes comically wide. “He sounds amazing. Was he that good of a singer?”

“The best I’ve ever heard,” you say, giggling helplessly.

“Oh wow, oh dang.” He shakes his head. “Was he handsome too?”

“Mhm…” Your face feels hot and you fidget with a loose thread on your gown. “Very handsome, if I say so.”

“You are the gods-chosen queen,” he says solemnly. “Your opinion is a sanctified one. He must have been really good looking then, like, stunning, like probably the best looking bard who ever lived. Fuck! I can’t compete with that guy!”

You laugh again, playfully shoving his shoulder while he giggles at his own silly joke.

“This is probably a foolish confession,” you say, embarrassed to admit your words but spurred by desire nonetheless. You think the growing darkness and loud flames might encourage your bravery. “But when you stood in as proxy at the wedding,” you say, “For a moment… I imagined what it would be like to marry you instead.”

His eyes widen again but not overdramatically, his surprise pure and honest.

“I didn’t know you yet, of course,” you say. “I couldn’t truly imagine what that would look like. It was a momentary fantasy. I just – I imagined a life with music and a smiling face.”

You stare back at him, your gazes locked. The boys are still making noise by the water and the other two are off in prayer. Darkness falls around you and the fire keeps you safe. All this makes you bold, so you reach across the small space between your bodies and you touch his face. When your palm cups his cheek, he takes in a breath and holds it.

“I thought I would stop thinking about it as the days went on,” you whisper. “Instead, now I see it better. I think I would like to explore cities with you, and try sweet things. And I think I would like even more to sit somewhere quiet at the end of the day, and do my needlework while you write songs. And I think I should stop thinking about it…” You drop your hand from his face, curl your fingers into your palm, and tuck your hand against your heart. “Because I’m making myself sad again. And I told myself I would not be sad tonight.”

“I wish I could take it away from you,” he says earnestly. “I like making you smile. I could write a song about the way you laugh but the sound wouldn’t be half as beautiful.”

You laugh at that, shaking your head, bashful. He wags a scolding finger in your face.

“Hey!” he says. “Don’t laugh at that. I was completely serious.”

“I know you were,” you say. “Trust me.”

“I do,” he says, smiling. His eyes roam your face, seeming to make a study of you. He sighs, a sweet sound. “I wish I could say I imagined marrying you,” he says. “But honestly, never in my life would I have ever dreamed such a thing would be possible. That you – that you – would ever look at me like—” He is trying to be jovial but his tone drops, finishing in utter seriousness, “Like this.”

“You speak so ill of yourself sometimes,” you say. “I know you come from a small background, Han Jisung, but that is a testament to your character, not a fault of it. I feel like I am the clumsy, foolish one, that I will forever be trying to reach the places you go.”

You lift your hand in demonstration, above your head, glancing up at it. He brings your gaze back down when he takes it in his own, lowering it so your clasped hands are between your hearts.

“I think we’re somewhere here now,” he says.

“Yes,” you say, swallowing again. “I believe we are, against all odds.”

“Against all odds,” he says and smiles. It is that true smile again, the corner of his eyes so crinkled with joy. It fills you with a similar happiness.

The warmth of that delight simmers hotly when he brings your hand to his lips. Surely, a kiss on the back of the hand is the most chaste kiss imaginable. It should not summon a torrent of butterflies in your belly, yet you swear they burst so quickly that you could similarly take flight.

He kisses that soft skin. Your hand is so unblemished next to his. You feel a sword callous where his thumb strokes you, a rough touch, though his lips are soft and warm.

When you are not interrupted, he gets bolder, turning your hand over and kissing your palm. He looks at you when he does. His gaze is so penetrating that you feel it thunder through you, right down to your core. This is not a chaste kiss, irrevocably claiming your hand with his mouth.

The voices get louder as the three guards approach. He releases your hand and you take it back, cradling it like something delicate. You can still feel the place his mouth touched, radiating heat more thoroughly than the campfire.

He is quicker at feigning indifference, immediately joking with his fellow guards as they approach the fire to dry off. You smile politely but remain quiet, still so flustered inside.

You spend the evening, sitting by the fire with the guards and talking about the days ahead. The other guards also speak fondly of the capital and some people inside the castle walls. You talk about your home too and they listen attentively.

The day eventually catches up to you. You yawn and apologize for the impolite action, covering your mouth. It just makes the guards laugh fondly.

“I suppose I best excuse myself for the night,” you say.

You begin to stand and they all move, prepared to rise and help you. Jisung beats them to it, on his feet and leaning over you in a matter of seconds.

“Here,” Jisung says, holding out his hand. “Let me, Your Majesty.”

You take his hand. Sparks ignite all over again, tingling all the way up your arm as he helps you to your feet. Your tent is not far but Jisung walks you to it anyway, holding open the canvas as you step inside. It is certainly not as big as the one in the encampment, the narrow space just big enough for a bedroll. It is tall enough you can stand, but only barely.

“Thank you,” you say, turning to face him. You smile. “Good night, Jisung.”

“Good night, Your Majesty,” he says. He is still holding your hand.

A heartbeat passes. He glances over his shoulder. The other kingsguards must be occupied because he steps into the tent. He is fast, taking the scarce second afforded to him.

He does not waste it.

He pulls you towards him. His hand darts past your waist and circles your body so he can haul you up against him. His other hand touches your face, his thumb on your chin to tilt your head.

He kisses you. Deeply, desperately.

“Good night, Your Majesty,” he breathes, stealing one more kiss before he withdraws.

It happens so fast but the effect lingers long after he is gone, your heart still racing and body still humming with desire.

Your dreams the previous night do not begin to compare to the thoroughly involved and deeply sinful dreaming that comes to you tonight.

You wake in a state, still flushed from a stimulating dream. Your hands fumble on the ties of your dress as you prepare for the day. You shake out your limbs before you open the tent canvas and step into the early morning light.

The kingsguards took shifts in guarding your tent. Last night, you woke to some noisy nightingales and recognized Changbin’s silhouette outside your tent. Content you were safe, you went back to sleep.

The morning is crisp and cool, the air a balm on your warm skin. That heat has no time to lessen, however, because the kingsguard standing post right now is Jisung.

You look at each other for a moment. It is very safe to say this regard is blatantly provocative. He does not touch you, but it feels as though he is undressing you with his eyes, the dark depths skimming the loose ties of your bodice like he is calculating how quickly he can unravel it. It would probably be fast. He could crook his finger inside the knot and everything would come undone, yourself included.

He is wearing his robes again. It should make him little more than a shadow, but your body is imprinted with the feeling of his arms around you, his hands deft and firm where they touch and press.

He looks over his shoulder. You follow his gaze. Hyunjin and Jeongin are still sleeping, dozing atop their bedrolls. The others are nowhere to be seen but you can hear them in the distance, down by the river.

Jisung looks at you. You do not doubt your hearts jump in unison with the same thought.

Seconds later, you are back inside the tent, his mouth on yours and his hands frantically squeezing your sides.

“Jisung,” you whisper, throwing your arms around his neck. You bury your fingers in his hair, thoughtlessly tugging at it, pushing your body right against his.

He makes a low sound, short and quick, passed between your lips. He pulls you into his arms so your bodies are flush against each other. Even with the layers between, you feel him as he feels you, the plush curve of your breasts pressed against his flat chest, your thighs against his, the softness of your middle against the unmistakably stiff interest of his.

“Gods help me,” he curses.

You think he tries to be graceful but you are both intoxicated with the kiss and it makes you clumsy. You end up thumping down to earth, sprawling across on the bedroll. It deters you for mere seconds, then he is back on you.

You don’t have time to think, your body commandeering full control of your senses. You lean back on your elbows, your legs falling open so he can fit his hips between them. His hands come down on either side of you, leaning you back as he kisses you until you are dizzy.

“I thought about you all night,” he whispers.

He kisses you again, his mouth open, his tongue on your lips. You open your mouth instinctively, letting him in. The place between your thighs seem to follow the same command, heat flooding so fast and intensely when he licks into your mouth. You suddenly feel so empty down there in comparison, your body begging for more.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said,” he continues, then kisses you again, then groans. “About us,” he says. “If you were my wife – oh – gods be good—“

You mewl. It is the only word to describe your whimpering when he lays you out and presses against you intimately, his hips rocking so you can feel exactly what he means.

“I would have taken you right there,” he whispers, staring down in your eyes as he rolls his body against yours. “I would have had you under those stars. I’d have you again right now. You’d never know anything but happiness and pleasure. I’d make you feel so good. So, so good. Always. If you were mine.”

“I am yours,” you whisper back, at least halfway delirious but nonetheless passionate. It is your only coherent sentence before your head tips back and your eyes close, your hips raising to meet his with a frenetic desperation.

He whimpers too. His expression is almost pained, his shoulders shaking.

“It takes me apart when you say things like that,” he says. “Do you understand? How you change everything? My whole world?”

“Yes,” you say, nodding quickly. You are certain your own expression borders pain and pleasure. “Yes, I understand. Jisung. Jisung.”

“Jisung?” That voice is Changbin from outside the tent.

It is effective as a bucket of cold water. You and Jisung look at each other, wide-eyed and panting, then mutely rip apart. He is the first out of the tent, practically bursting into the morning light. It startles Changbin who nearly topples over. He has barely righted himself when you emerge too.

“Is everything all right?” Changbin asks, looking quickly between you.

“I fell,” you blurt.

“She fell,” Jisung repeats.

“You fell?” Changbin asks, lifting his eyebrow. He steps back to look at the tent, then he looks at you. “Are you all right?”

“No,” you say, then shake your head. “I mean, yes. My apologies, kingsguard. It just really startled me. I hit my head.”

“She hit her head,” Jisung repeats.

“Jisung tried to help me but then he fell too.”

“I tried to help her but then I – wait—”

“That does sound like you,” Changbin says, frowning. “Tsk, shame.” He swats at Jisung before bowing appropriately to you. “Your Majesty, are you all right? Do you need anything?”

“Umm, some water if you don’t mind?” you say.

“Of course,” Changbin says. He puts a scolding finger in Jisung’s face. “Try not to fall on her when I’m gone.”

“I’ll certainly try,” Jisung says. “No promises.”

When Changbin is out of sight, you playfully kick Jisung. He feigns immense pain but then he winks at you.

Your heart skips a beat.

This might be a long journey after all.

Hyunjin and Jeongin wake not long after. You depart earlier than scheduled.

Jisung never gets a moment to calm down, still half-aroused when he sits behind you in the saddle. It provokes your own arousal, impossible to shake the all too clear fantasy of him pressed against your backside, his body moving against yours, not entirely unlike the up-and-down sway in the quick canter of the horse ride.

“Are you all right?” you ask after some time.

“Ha-ha,” he says. “Fuck no.”

It makes you laugh, though it also leaves you feeling very warm.

Jisung sprinkles himself with water at the next rest stop, dabbing his neck and face while you pet his horse. Minho and Changbin are conversing over a map, gesticulating and debating something. Minho nods definitively and rolls up the paper.

“We’re making better time than anticipated,” he says. “If we don’t delay at our rests, we may be able to reach one of the outermost villages before nightfall.”

“Sounds like a good plan to me,” Seungmin says, to which everyone concurs. Finding an inn would be preferable to another night on the forest floor.

You reach the first town just after nightfall. The capital, itself, is at least another day’s ride, but towns and villages dot the landscape leading up to it.

It does not take long to find an inn. The kingsguards are an unmistakeable order, especially a pack of them, walking into a room with their black robes and shining swords. The innkeepers fall over themselves, rushing up to greet the holy soldiers as they let themselves into the downstairs tavern.

The kingsguards do not need to introduce you. Though you must look a little wild with some undone curls and a well-worn dress, there is only one female figure the kingsguards – queensguards – would be escorting.

At first, the guards are better received than you. It is obvious these men have earned a good reputation with the people, regarded as a separate entity from the king. If the king was unpopular with the common people in the country provinces, it becomes abundantly clear he is even less popular here. You suppose that makes sense as he is much more likely to visit one of these provinces.

You let your decency and good nature speak for itself. The innkeepers warm up to you in no time, happily holding conversation while a couple of the kingsguards give the building a walkthrough.

You are all given some food and board. The upper level has been cleared for privacy, which somewhat embarrasses you, but the kingsguards claim it is a worthwhile safety measure given the events of the last few days.

Changbin takes the first shift, guarding you. It is early and you are very awake from so much socializing, so you invite him inside to sit with you. The room is not overly ostentatious but it is more than suitable, a decent size with a wide bed and a seating area.

You and Changbin sit across from each other at the table. You brought a small embroidery hoop and some thread so you work on that while chatting with Changbin. He expresses some interest in what you are doing so you show him. He takes to it as naturally as last time, giggling gleefully at his handiwork.

The hours tick past. There is a knock at the door, one of the kingsguards to relieve Changbin from his post. They will continue to take turns through the night.

Though you mask your thoughts, you are disappointed when the door opens and it is Minho standing there. Maybe it is for the best. It would have been hard to explain why Jisung felt the need to guard you from inside your room all night – to say nothing of guarding you under the covers.

Changbin bids you a good night. Minho nods to him as he departs, then he looks at you with a rather drole quirk of his eyebrow.

“Try and get some sleep, Your Majesty,” he says, then he bows his head respectfully and closes the door.

His tone was a little odd but you suppose Lee Minho is a rather quirky character at times.

Shaking your head, you bolt and lock the door as you were advised. You hum to yourself as you move around the room, supposing it is an appropriate hour to prepare for bed, though you are still quite awake.

You take your hair down and remove your shoes and stockings. You have only just grasped the front ties of your dress when there is a knock. You step towards the door when the knock comes again. This time, it makes you pause, because the sound does not seem to resonate from the door. You linger in the middle of the room, waiting and listening.

The knock comes again. You turn around. It is coming from the other side of the room. Is someone knocking at the window? That can’t be possible; you are on the third and uppermost floor of a building.

You are about to turn and alert Minho when someone says your name. It is not your title nor any honorific, simply your given name. You recognize the voice immediately.

You hurry over to the window, unlatching the casement and throwing it open. Sure enough, Han Jisung is dangling from the ledge, grinning but sweating and looking rather strained.

“What are you doing?” you whisper frantically.

“I’m climbing,” Jisung whispers back. “It’s romantic – whoa!”

He nearly slips in an attempt to get his bearing, making you squeak with alarm. He laughs nervously when he strengthens his grip, giving you an awkward smile.

“Just give me a second,” he says. “I promise, this is gonna be super romantic as soon as I get up there. Oh. Ouch. Oof. I really should have taken the robe off first. Ouch. Hold on. Okay. All right. Here we go.”

He manages to lift himself onto the window ledge. It is a rather narrow window so it is something of a comical sight, watching him try to find a way inside. When he realizes he can’t turn enough to swing a leg in, he opts to tip into the room backwards, landing on his back with a thud.

“Shhh,” you say, trying not to laugh, putting a finger over your lips.

He puts a finger over his lips too, eyes darting back and forth with joking panic.

“You are ridiculous,” you say, helping him to his feet.

“I thought I was incorrigible,” he replies. He shakes out his robes, flapping them like wings.

“You’re that too.” You close and lock the casement, firmly bolting the latch.

The amusement and giddiness fades, though the adrenaline remains. You and Jisung look at each other, completely alone in a locked room for the first time in a couple days. It seems impossible that you were similarly alone in a room at a different inn, just a handful of days past. So much has transpired in so little time. You can only imagine what else could happen. You think the possibilities are limitless, so long as he keeps looking at you like that.

Even if his gaze does make you feel flushed. You have already been very intimate and it is obvious you both want to continue that, but it does not get easier to proposition it. The more you want him, the more tension you feel.

“Right,” you say with a weak little laugh as you march past.

His eyes follow you. You hear him cross the room, the slow thud of booted steps as he moves. He takes off his outer robe, the swishing slither unmistakable as the fabric sweeps the floor.

You approach the table with your embroidery, keeping your back to him as you organize your tools.

“Um, so I suppose, um,” you start and stumble. You do not know what to say. There is so much and yet there are no words.

You struggle another moment, mouth open around empty, airy syllables.

He touches your arm, just the gentlest sweep of his knuckles from your shoulder to your elbow. You did not even hear him step behind you, but now he conquers all your senses. You feel him even where he is not touching you. You close your eyes and his face is there, those familiar eyes and that devastating smile.

“Your Majesty,” he says, his voice light, undemanding yet so seductive. It makes your core tighten. “If I only keep one vow my whole life – I want it to be this.” His hand sweeps back up your arm, across your shoulder, brushing some hair off your neck. “The gods brought me to you to keep you safe and to serve you. You have let me keep the first vow. Please.” His breath touches your neck. “Please.” His tone is truly pleading. “Please let me keep the second vow.”

It is not a surprise you cannot formulate a verbal reply. Your voice and breath are caught, no doubt trapped by your pounding heart. You are captivated and glad to be.

You turn around. Your eyes meet. The eye contact alone stirs your arousal. You remember him looking at you through the mirror, the most he dared, at least until he snuck into your tent and made love like he was writing songs of worship.

Your eyes remain locked as you gather the front ties of your dress and begin to unravel the knot. Without looking down, he takes them from you. He tugs the ends, drawing you closer to him. Closer and closer until you are pressed between him and the table edge. You lean against it and surrender, sliding your hands up his bare arms until they are resting on his clothed shoulders.

He kisses you. It is different than earlier, not so frantic but just as searching. He makes a sound like pain, his brow knitting together, mouth opening against yours.

Your dress comes apart in his hands. You murmur his name as he pulls the material down, leaving you clad in your shift. You expect him to let the dress fall and lift your shift over your head, but he follows the fabric of the dress down, carefully guiding it over your hips. He sinks lower, lower, and lower still, until he is down on one knee, still guiding the dress. It falls past your knees and puddles on the floor, leaving you in your shift.

“Jisung,” you say, touching the side of his face.

His eyes are closed. He shudders when you touch his face. It makes his eyes fly open, flickering with something like fear until he looks into your eyes and it all goes away.

“I want…” he says.

Suddenly his other knee drops. He sits back on his heels, tilting his head so far back to gaze up at you imploringly.

“I don’t know,” he says, laughing at himself. His eyes wander down your body, the plain shift that he has seen in so many revealing stages, down the curve of your breasts and their excited peaks, down over your hips, down between your legs.

Yes, he focusses there, taking a deep breath. He kneels upright, taking the hem of your shift in hand.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he says, gathering the material, guiding it up. “I mean, I do. I know but I – I don’t.” He glances up at your face then he looks down again, eyes once more between your thighs as he reveals more and more skin. His fingers are trembling where they clutch the material. “I want to, though,” he says. “Please. Please. Your Majesty.”

“Jisung,” you say softly.

You run your fingers through his hair. He positively melts under the gentle ministration, pressing his face over the material between your legs. His nose swipes somewhere sensitive and it makes you jump, tugging on his hair.

“Jisung, you can do what you want with me,” you say. “You know that. You know—”

“I do,” he says, kissing you through the material, making your thighs twitch. “I do. I want. I want.”

He lifts the hem up past your belly. You take the material, holding it as you hold your breath. His hands skim your sides and the curve of your hips, his eyes nearly crossing each other with his hypnotized concentration.

You are not sure what he is doing, not when he kisses your thighs, not when he touches you behind the knee and guides it over his shoulder. You just know the sight of him on his knees makes your whole body weak. You are glad the table is behind you, offering support, or you would already be a useless puddle on the floor, much like your discarded dress.

You think he is just kissing you, just teasing you, moving further along your inner thigh. Then he kisses the place between your legs, no barrier between his mouth and the soft, wet place that is begging for him.

“Oh,” you say.

It is the only thing you can say for a while, mouth frozen in a round O of surprise when he continues to kiss there. Chaste – if they can be called that – kisses until his tongue pokes through. His fingers press into your thigh as he moans and buries his face between your legs, his open mouth ravishing you.

Your head falls back, chest rising and falling rapidly, not a coherent sound crossing your lips as he puts his tongue inside you and coaxes all those half-mad noises from within you. It goes on until you are so hot and dizzy that, when he takes your leg off his shoulder, you must fully slouch against the table to stay standing.

You look down at him, so desperate for more that you must look feral with want. He wipes his face, glancing down at the wetness that has touched his black shirt.

You realize now why he stopped. He reaches back over his head, taking the fabric in his fists and pulling. He tugs the shirt off and throws it to the side, exposing all that honey-smooth skin to your hungry, roving eyes.

Then he dives back in, putting your leg on his bare shoulder and his tongue inside you. You cry out, gripping his hair, your hips bucking of their own volition as he runs his tongue back and forth, back and forth, tormenting that bead of pleasure until little waves of anticipation start to build inside you.

“Jisung, Jisung,” you whisper, the roughness of your own voice unrecognizable to you. He is the one on his knees but you sound like the one in prayer, uttering his name with so much reverence as he takes you over an impossible crest of pleasure. One hand is buried in his hair but the other you use to cover your mouth, eyes closing as you ride the height of your pleasure on his eager face.

You both take a gasping breath when it is over. You look at each other the way romantics gaze at the heavens, full of wonder and awe.

“How—” he begins then clears his throat. He wipes his face as he stands, yearning eyes rivetted to yours. “How do you feel?”

“I feel – I feel—” You really think about it, following each tingle as it bolts, lightning quick, back to its source. Your thighs twitch and your body clenches, tightening around nothing, and you know the answer. “Empty,” you say. “I feel – I need—”

“Oh,” he says, nudging your legs apart and standing between them. “Oh, my darling.”

You grab his face with both hands and pull it to yours, tasting yourself on his lips and tongue. He kisses your mouth as eagerly as he kissed down there, his hands on your waist, moving up under the shift. You quickly lift it off, tossing it blindly behind you. You lean back and he follows you, his mouth in a quick but hot chase, moving down your throat to your breasts.

You plant your hands behind you, sitting fully on the table now. You let your head fall back as he stands between your open legs and kisses so many sensitive places.

“The king won’t see you for at least a week,” he murmurs, leaving little kisses around the stiff bud. It makes your back arch, offering yourself up to him.

You lift your head to look at him. He meets your gaze, his dark eyes turned up as his open mouth descends.

“Jiii—” is the only syllable you manage, biting your lip to stop because it was too loud.

It is hardly fair, though, when he bites the tender skin only to love at it with his tongue.

“Oh, sweet gods,” you say, watching, hips bucking, as he does it again. “I thought you were a chaste virgin.”

“I am,” he says, then smiles. “Was. But—” He leaves another love bite, then kisses his way back up to your face. He smiles at you. “I’m good at everything.”

“Oh, I see,” you say, laughing at his playfulness. “Vanity is a sin, you know.”

A laugh bursts out of him, louder than all your previous moans. You both slap a hand over his mouth, barely stifling the giggles that follow.

Smiling at each other, you take your hand off his mouth. You tuck some of his hair behind his ear. His neck is already a little sweaty and there is a line of sweat in the middle of his bare chest. You trace it, your finger circling his pectoral, almost as sensitive as your peaks given how his eyelids flutter and get heavy with want.

“Jisung,” you whisper. “I want you.”

“You want me,” he says, all at once intoxicated with desire. “I want you.”

“Have me,” you say, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck and pulling him to you. “Jisung, I’m yours. Please. Please.”

“Oh gods.” Despite his playful cockiness, his hands are shaking when they go to the ties of his trousers. He fumbles with them like last time, needing your help to undo the knot. Your fingers weave through the string, loosening it, and he releases a breath when he can pull the front material apart.

You wrap your legs around him, guiding him towards your centre. He nearly topples you and the table, practically falling into your arms. He laughs nervously, then closes his eyes as you put your arms around him. He groans with deep-set pleasure when you drag your fingernails from his shoulders all the way down his back.

He has himself in hand and he is shivering as you scrape your nails down his back. It makes him as wet as he is hard, the tip of him gliding along your wetness in a way that leaves you shaking.

“You’re torturing me,” you whisper, grinding against his tip, shuddering when he rubs up and down over that still-sensitive bead of pleasure. “What are you – what are you—”

“I’m not torturing you, ‘m not,” he says, slurring just a little, kissing your cheeks and your jaw and your neck. “Majesty. Queen. You. My – Oh. I’m just – I want to see you – I want to feel you—”

He wants to make you reach that climax again, which he does, just by grinding against you. It washes over you with so much intensity that you rear up then fall back. It causes a table leg to crack.

You look at each other with wide eyes, glancing beneath you to see the damage. You both fail to stifle another giggle, exchanging a shocked expression, then mutely changing location.

Your feet touch the ground for mere seconds before he picks you up, hands on your waist, the same gentlemanly touch when he helps you onto his horse. This time he puts you on the bed, crawling up after you as you scoot to lay in the centre of it.

His pants are still on but low slung. He pushes them further until they are around his thighs, nothing more than a useless hindrance as your legs open for him. He hooks his arms under your knees and pulls you to him. You are so wet and so open and ready.

It is easier than the first time, but still a momentary sting as he enters you, one that disappears as he sinks in deeper until you are as intimate as two humans can be.

“Yes,” you say. It feels so good that you release a tear.

“Oh, my – my darling, my queen, I—” He kisses that tear track, then moves his arms so he can plant his hands on either side of your head. He moans at the depth afforded to him in that angle, rocking against you with an energy more needy than calculated.

“Be – be careful—” you say with a little laugh, because he is thrusting so haphazardly that it is making the bed squeak. “Unless you want everyone to know what you’re doing to me.”

“Well,” he says with a laughing exhale. “Maybe I do. I mean, I don’t, that would be very bad. But also—”

He moves slower, mindfully, counting each stroke and measuring its impact by the look on your face. He is slow, then a little faster, but not enough to squeak the bed again – just enough that you forget how to speak, staring at him through dizzy eyes as he takes you so deeply and so precisely.

“No one else has you like this,” he whispers. “You are – so beautiful – and composed – and gr-graceful – but for me—”

He covers your mouth when you moan too loud, but it just makes you whimper pathetically into his hand. Your eyes close as he rolls his hips into yours, relentlessly riding you to an entirely different precipice of pleasure.

“For me,” he says. “You’re like this. I know you. I know you.” He emphasizes this with a hand between your bodies, stroking that place again as he takes you.

It’s no wonder the kingsguards are considered deadly; his coordination is truly fatal, never faltering for a second. He is even quick enough to cover your mouth when you reach that crest, sobbing into his palm with nothing but sheer pleasure.

“Yes,” he says and kisses your wet face, down your throat. He puts his face against your neck and rocks his hips a little more frantically. “You feel – you are – I never want to stop – I want – oh gods – it’s you. It’s you. You’re everything. You’re my – you’re mine, you’re all of it. Fuck.”

He pulls out before reaching his climax. This time you finish him, taking him in hand. It takes only one stroke for him to come to you, his face twisted up with his pleasure and a whine in his throat as he releases himself all over your thighs.

He falls on top of you after, his head on your chest and his eyes closed. You run your fingers through his messy hair, then down his spine and back up again. He trembles a little but every exhale sounds like relief.

Eventually, he lifts his head. You are not sure who initiates the kiss, only that you fall into it with the same all-encompassing desire as all the others.

“Will you stay a while?” you ask.

He nods. His dark eyes are a little shiny and his laugh is a little watery when he says, “I’d stay forever if I could.”

“I know,” you say, swallowing down the same emotion as you take him back into your arms. “I know, Jisung.”

You really do.

It is for that reason, you will make it happen.

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katsukisbayy · 9 months ago

Text

final part: bodyguard!felix x reader

masterlist.

PART I ; PART II ; PART III ; PART IV ; PART V ; PART VI ; PART VII ; PART VIII ; PART IX ; FINAL PART.

( READ ON AO3. )

Your father hires an inconspicuous bodyguard to accompany you at school and supervise you at home. What seems like an innocuous change in routine eventually spirals into a forbidden romance that grows more passionate over the years.

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: smut. violence. parental abuse. situations of intense peril overall. forced proximity. enemies2lovers. angst with eventual happy ending. (chapter word count; 19k words)

warning for this chapter: the usual story dynamics plus explicit violence, intense peril, threat and injury to reader, graphic depictions of death, explicit sexual content.

Your father will be here soon. He kept his distance during the rescue operation but will reconvene with his team before the journey home.

You and Felix wake long before his anticipated arrival, when dawn is only just peeking into the hotel room.

You lay in bed, your head on his bare chest and his arms around you. You discuss the potential confrontation ahead. Last time you were taken, your father was less than sympathetic to your plight. Even though this was more his fault than yours, you are certain you will take the blame. He cannot take responsibility for a misstep. If he is fallible, he is weak, and that puts his whole existence in jeopardy. It must always be someone else’s fault.

Therefore it is likely he will punish you. Therefore it is likely he will ask Felix to do it.

“Felix,” you say when he does not look at you. He is staring out the window with a look of pure frustration.

“I know,” he says. “You want me to do it. Last time I…”

“Yes.”

There is no need to discuss last time. You both know he fumbled that exchange. Felix is meant to be the personification of resolute strength and obedience, the perfect soldier. His moment of weakness snared your father’s attention, as weakness always does. Your quick response remedied the situation well enough, but you will not be so lucky next time. The only thing worse than a moment of weakness is the persistence of it. He cannot hesitate again.

“If,” you say slowly, “we want to find a way out… then now, more than ever, we cannot give him any reasons to be suspicious of us.”

“I know,” he says, but his jaw is still clenched and his gaze is faraway.

“Felix.” You touch his jaw, minding the darkening bruise, and turn his face to yours. His expression softens when he meets your gaze. “Thank you,” you say. “I love you. I trust you. It will be okay.”

He cups your cheek and lifts your face. His looks at you like he is studying every small detail. Even though he must know your face perfectly – seeing it when he wakes, before he goes to sleep, every day for so much of his life – he looks at you like he is seeing you for the first time all over again.

You laugh when he flicks your bottom lip, the little pout he has long since called his weakness.

“You could convince the sky it wasn’t blue,” he says, and kisses you tenderly. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

Maybe it is the novelty of hearing that out loud, or maybe you will just be crazy about him forever, but you feel flustered. You laugh and squirm, your skin hot. It makes him laugh, the menace kissing down your throat just to make you wriggle more.

“Don’t let my daddy catch you then,” you tease, breathlessly. “He wouldn’t like that very much.”

The returned chuckle makes you shiver. You run your fingers through his hair but he grabs your wrist and pins it down. Your breath catches when he sucks a bruising kiss on your throat. He is usually so careful about leaving marks, but today he dips his head to the soft skin of your breast and bites a mean little mark into the tender skin, making you gasp and buck beneath his hold.

“No, he wouldn’t, would he?” Felix says, his deep voice dropping even lower. “What would everyone say, hmm? Your daddy, your guards… all those rich boys at those fancy parties who think they have a chance with you…”

“Everyone thinks I’m a frigid bitch,” you reply, joining his game, smiling knowingly. “And I am, aren’t I? Nothing but trouble.”

“Nothing but trouble,” he says with a grin. He flicks the covers off, then his hands are on your hips and he flips you as smoothly. You yelp when he drags you halfway down the bed, arranging you as he kneels behind you. “You can’t fool me, sweetheart,” he says. One hand curls around your throat and the other snakes down your backside. “Frigid? Mm. I don’t think so. I actually think you are very, very soft… and warm…”

His fingers slip inside you easily, wet from your previous lovemaking and wetter still from his voice. Every little breath and tortured groan has you twitching and gasping.

“Felix,” you say.

It is the right thing to say. You are clawing at the bedsheets moments later, hiccupping on each watery breath as he holds your hips and fucks you right down into the mattress. You press against it like you could disappear there, fucked into freedom, never to return to this dire world again.

You sink into the bed and float in your mind, sighing when he wraps his arms around you and covers you with his body. He is hot and whole and so alive, and everything seems possible while you are joined together. You have each other, completely and irrevocably. That is all you need to survive.

You finish not a moment too soon. You are nestled in his arms, kissing and kissing and kissing, flushed and satisfied and content, when reality comes knocking. Felix throws on some pants while you scurry into the bathroom and close the door.

Felix steps into the hall. Between the bathroom door and the hotel room door, you only hear muffled voices. Then a few clicks, then another knock, then you jump. You are wearing a blanket and it slips with your surprise. You adjust it frantically, but Felix says, “It’s just me.”

You crack open the door to Felix in a t-shirt and his combat pants. You recognize the tired lines on his face, cracks in the mask he is struggling to don. His reassuring smile is not convincing.

“Here,” he says, handing you some clothes. “Your father is here. He wants to see you at breakfast.”

“Of course he does,” you say, just for something to say, letting your frustration seep into your tone.

The bathroom tiles are cold under your feet. A sharp snap of sensation and a reminder of reality. Felix makes the world feel small in comparison to him, but the world is still there, ever turning with its usual machinations and politics and powers. You are still suspended helplessly in the centre of it all. Though you pushed the darkest truths to the corner for a few hours, making love and comforting each other, all those hurts and agonies are still there. You see it in his eyes, his glance flickering from here to there as he roams with his thoughts.

Neither of you have ever had a normal life and you do not know what to do with one. He has been making difficult choices since he was a child. Neither of you truly knows if you are making the right one now.

You do the best you can with a strong hug. It is a lingering, affectionate embrace, fitting your bodies together until you feel grounded.

Felix looks over your shoulder, catching his own reflection. You look back as well, his cheek against yours, your eyes meeting in the mirror.

“I couldn’t stand the sight of my own face,” he says, his voice low even though you are alone, like the words are fighting his tongue. It is hard to admit. He swallows hard but continues, “I hated the stupid kid looking back at me… I wanted to be someone better, someone who could actually do something right…”

You look at him rather than his reflection. When you touch a strand of blonde hair, he closes his eyes, as if he can feel the pad of your finger on a lock of hair, smarting more than his bruises.

“Is that why… the hair?” you ask clumsily. You do not know how to wade through ten years of emotion. Felix has coloured his hair regularly since the day you met him. The blonde suits him but it is clearly unnatural. It has not been soft in a very long time, coarse from repeated dye jobs.

The colour is just one more layer of his meticulous mask, crumbling in front of you as he nods and sighs. An admittance. He could not stand to look in the mirror and see that other version of himself, the boy he was, the boy who made all those mistakes. You see him, the years of questioning his choices, the impossible tether around his throat. There has never been a day he has not questioned his choices. Working for one bad man or another. Rescuing his friend or his lover. Letting violence happen or letting the violence use him.

You kiss his cheek, then below his jaw, threading your fingers through his hair. You scratch at his scalp, just a feathery light touch, one that makes him melt in your arms.

“I love you,” you say. You find it is an addicting word yet it never loses its potency. Your heart still races when he touches his forehead to yours, when he strokes your sides and hums a gentle sound of pleasure. “Things have changed a lot over the years. But we’re still here.” Still living your lives, even in broken bits, those stolen pieces you mentioned so long ago. “We’ve changed. We’ll change again. Things will happen and we’ll figure it out. But please don’t hate that boy anymore. I care about him a lot. I want him to be happy too.”

His face scrunches with the threat of tears, but he controls himself. He pushes the emotion into a laugh, though it is humourless. Then he closes the space between you and kisses you, cups the back of your head and holds you there until you are both satisfied.

“All right,” he says in a rough voice. “Get dressed. It’s going to be a long day.”

“You’ll be there, though,” you say.

“Always,” he says, a hint of amusement touching the corner of his lips. “I’m your bodyguard, hmm?”

You laugh and kiss him again.

“Right,” you say. “Always.”

Your father sits at a dining table in the penthouse suite. Behind him, a window wall flaunts the city skyline. Daylight casts a glow around him like some deified king lording over his petty kingdom. Guards loiter in the room and the corridor, keeping their eyes sharp as hotel staff prepare the table.

You sit across from him with the sunlight in your eyes, the usual position of discomfort and inferiority. He does not look at you, nor does he greet you, his eyes on his phone until the table is set. A staff member goes to serve him but he dismisses them.

“All of you, go,” he says, not just to the staff but his team as well. They filter out of the room one by one.

The penthouse is a ostentatious space, all white linen and gilded frames, tall ceilings and bay windows, but as the room empties, it becomes frighteningly big. Or maybe you just feel frighteningly small, his tactics working as they often do. Your father knows how to push your buttons because they are the same as his. He is scared. It makes him angry. He makes you scared. It makes you angry.

“Felix,” he says. “Stay.”

Felix is all that tempers you. He stands against the wall but you do not look at him, staring at your father until he finally looks your way. Despite the light, you hold his stare, feeling a modicum of triumph when he looks away first.

“Did they damage you?” he asks. His phrasing almost makes you laugh. Damaged. As if outside forces were needed for that.

“I’m fine,” you say. “My bodyguard rescued me. Your team was damaged, though.” You throw the word right back at him. You cross your leg and sit back, like you are as unbothered as him.

You know that underneath his cold exterior, he is anything but casual. He is letting his rage simmer as he builds to some awful retaliation. He was conducting a mission, sending his best asset on a job, and it was interrupted by your kidnapping. A kidnapping that nearly lost him more than his heir, but that same irreplaceable asset. An asset that previously made a mistake in front of his eyes. This is no longer a game, a squabble between a parent and child, but a real world crisis with dangerous consequences.

You should not provoke him, and that is why you do. Because provoking him is something you have always done and you need him to see you as that hapless child if you are going to beat him. You do not want to arouse further suspicion in him, that you are sitting here thinking about your own schemes, that you know more about his assets and operations than he could ever suspect.

So you toss your rejoinder and he catches it, as he always does, with a cruel smirk.

“There are more where they came from,” he says.

Returning like cockroaches and squashed just the same. If only a multi-generational empire could be toppled as easily. But your father is more than a man across a table; he is ten men in the corridor and more on the ground, he is paid staff and investors and a whole society.

Though you feign nonchalance, inside adrenaline pounds. Sweat gathers, your heart races. He is good at making you feel small, but at least it is predictable. The scene unfolds in your mind before it happens, the script playing before a single action is commanded. You will be scolded. You will be reprimanded. You will be punished.

“Felix, come here,” your father says.

You predicted he would involve Felix after what happened last time. The only question is what manner of punishment he will force from his hand. All you can do is trust Felix to play his role so you can play yours. You made it clear the physical pain was meaningless, that you could take whatever he inflicted. Just another inside joke between you. You will laugh about it one day.

You do not look away from your father. Your eyes are locked in a challenging stare, daring the other to break. You are scared, but you feel so much more than fear and rage. With your love for Felix, with the hope in your heart, you are an ocean of feeling and you are not ashamed of it anymore. You stare your father down and mutely convey that you are not broken, that he did not win, that he never will win.

His answer is the flick of a kitchen knife. It slides across the table and nearly tumbles right over the lip. It teeters within arm’s reach of you. It is tempting to look and consider its purpose with the trepidation you feel, but you do not. You tell yourself he will only hurt you so much, that putting you in true peril would surely be counterproductive to his overall efforts. Whatever plan he has for that knife will be a momentary pain you can recover from.

Then he says, “Felix.”

Felix steps into your periphery, the black of his fatigues a shadow at your side.

“Pick up that knife,” your father says. “Put it through your hand. Right through to the table.”

It is not the demand you were expecting, not by a long shot. As your father stares you down, steady where you start to waver, you realize this test is not for Felix. It is for you.

“I trust,” your father hisses the word, “you know the spot that will inflict the least permanent damage.”

The last time your father made this demand, you and Felix were kids at the start of your messy life together. Instinct propelled you to stop him. Over the years, you have mastered schooling your reactions. The girl who tackled Felix, the girl who sobbed while he was beaten, that girl learned to save her tears for later. Your father’s version of you is a cold, headstrong, hateful fool. She might stop Felix to combat her father, or she might let him suffer out of pure hatred.

Both options feel wrong. Regardless of what you choose, you feel like you are giving something away. You feel like your father will see right past it. He stares at you like he will find your secrets written on your face.

You have seconds to decide and that is not enough time. The moment passes you by. Felix plants his hand and takes the knife. Your father does not count him down. He watches you, willing you to make a mistake, to show your weakness. To prove him right.

You flinch when the knife thuds into the table, the soft reverberation of the wood accompanied with a gross little squelch that sounds too loud in this too big room. Your reaction is strongly stamped on your face, disgusted and upset. You look away to stop the tears that stab behind your eyes.

Everything that has happened, everything you have done, and you are right back here. After everything, he still ended up with that knife in his hand.

Your father rips it out. Felix catches his breath but does not cry out. You catch a glimpse of the bloody knife before your father tosses it on the floor, as if he is discarding something insignificant.

You slowly meet his gaze. He is still assessing you. You cannot tell if you passed or failed his test. By the scrutiny of his regard, it seems he does not know either. All you can do is look at each other while Felix bleeds beside you.

“You may go,” your father says, cold as the ice that locks your limbs. It takes you a moment to stir life back into them.

“Felix,” your father says. “You stay. We have business to discuss.”

You do not look at Felix. You cannot bear to look at him. On the escorted march back to your room, you are quiet, biting the inside of your cheek to stop any more unwanted reactions. Only when you are alone in the room do you let it out, an aggravated cry as you rip a pillow off the bed and whip it blindly across the room.

This was never going to be easy, but now it feels like the ongoing struggle between you and your father has led to an insurmountable deadlock. He has you enclosed in his fist and he is threatening to crush you in it.

You do not think he knows about the true nature of your relationship with Felix. He might suspect anything, an affair the last of it. Even a menial friendship would be a detrimental betrayal to him. All he sees is a smudge of a weakness in what should be the strongest cog in his machine.

He is testing you and tormenting you. He is perched on his pedestal, waiting for you to throw yourself at his feet in eventual penitence.

You will not. Not this time. Your father is expecting retaliation in the form of equal dramatics and you will not satisfy him. You will sit quietly. You will do what you have been doing, stealing pieces of your life in the silence and shadows. He controls a realm of power, affluence, and violence. You control yourself. Love has saved you all this time. It will be your means of escape for good.

You sit in quiet repose until Felix returns. Although you promised to remain calm, you cannot help but fuss over his injured hand. It has already been stitched and bandaged but you peek beneath the binding, almost gagging at the sight.

“All right, enough,” Felix says. He lifts your head and guides it onto his shoulder instead. You are sitting on the small loveseat under the window. You throw your arms around him and hold tight.

“I’m sorry,” you say, a tear sliding from your cheek to his shoulder. You sniffle.

“Don’t be,” he says. “I can take the pain. It means nothing. Sweetheart, he means nothing.”

“I know,” you say, but you sniffle one more time anyway. Gathering yourself, you lift your head to look at him. “What did my father want after I left?”

“I don’t fully know,” Felix says, the tenderness in his expression giving way to uncertainty. “He said he wants to continue the job,” Felix says. “He and Miroh, they’re both chasing these long-term investments in some government building contracts… Miroh has been getting in the way of your father’s deals, so he’s been mostly standing guard. Then he got intel that a significant asset of Miroh’s would be involved in securing an upcoming bid… And he thought… he thought with the right team he could… acquire whatever this asset was…”

“Chris,” you say, a breathless note. “That’s why he brought you on, isn’t it? He told you the acquisition was Chris.”

“If Chris was alive, if he was working for Miroh even after everything…” Felix swallows. He looks pained, like all these words are hard to say. His voice is rough and the words scratch like sandpaper as he forces them out. “Between me, your father’s back-up team, and the element of surprise… We had a chance of stopping Miroh’s subterfuge and getting… rescuing… Chris. Finally.”

But Chris might be dead. Your father might have killed him. Miroh has a vast artillery and the asset in question could be anyone or anything. It makes more sense your father was using Felix to eliminate this obstruction. That is what he always does. He uses someone like a thing, strengths and weaknesses calculated, and works them into his scheme.

You look at the bloody bandage, wrapped tight around that wounded hand, and you cannot bring yourself to vocalize these awful, pessimistic thoughts. You say instead, “But why would he want to continue the job now? You no longer have the element of surprise.”

“No,” Felix says. “We don’t. That’s because the job is over and your father is lying.”

“What?”

“Chris is dead.” Felix says it for you, with a hard set to his jaw that you recognize as a shield against emotion. He does not look at you because it exposes that vulnerable, human part of him, and right now he is fighting to maintain his composure. Cool, collected, he plainly states, “There is no chance of this job succeeding anymore. Miroh caught onto us. He interrupted us. Whatever we were after is not there anymore. Your father is just pulling my leash to see if I fight back.” He takes a deep breath before saying more. “He wants an excuse to question my loyalty.”

“He is provoking us,” you agree. There is a second of silence, both of you in contemplation, then you say, “We can’t let him.”

“If I refuse this job, he will just get worse,” Felix says. “If we try to run right now, we won’t get far. We need to do this right, we need to—”

“Take the job,” you say. “You said yourself, the job is over. My father is a bastard and an idiot but he would never risk sending his best team somewhere dangerous when he has nothing to gain from it. Call his bluff. Take the job.”

“I can’t leave you again,” Felix says, eyes closing as he clenches his good fist. “I won’t leave you alone with him again. Not right now, not like this. Sweetheart, if something happened—”

“I’ll be fine,” you say, wrapping your hand over his fist and gently uncurling his fingers. You nudge your nose against his chin, coaxing him to turn his head. He finally does, sighing as he looks down at you. You smile. “I’ll be safe in the house.”

“It’s more dangerous in there than out here,” he says.

“You know he won’t do anything worse than he’s ever done before,” you say. You look down when you touch the bandage on his hand. “We can take the cuts and bruises a little longer. Do the job, then come back to me. And who knows…” You kiss his cheek, a touch of comfort. “Maybe you’ll find the truth about Chris.”

“I know the truth,” he says, unmoved. “He’s dead.”

You do concede it is incredibly likely. If anything stopped your father from killing Chris, it was not morality, rather the practicality of breaching Miroh’s defences. But it sounds like Chris was trouble to Miroh, so it is possible there was no pushback.

It still breaks your heart to see Felix like this. The burden of this bargain has caused him strife for so long, but you can see how it motivated him too. As the hope leaves him, a light dims, and even your affection cannot ignite it.

“How do you know that?” you ask helplessly.

“I just feel it,” Felix says. “In my heart. I guess. I think, umm. I think. I think I’ve known for a long time. Maybe from the last time I ever saw him. But I needed to believe in it. I think I needed to believe Chris could be saved because then maybe—” He looks down at his injured hand. His fingers twitch when he fails to close his fist. “Then I would have done something good,” he says miserably. “Maybe then I could be worth saving too.”

“Felix. Baby.” You touch his face, still minding the bruise that grows more vicious by the second. It only adds to the ache in your chest as you look at him, beaten and battered for someone else’s sake. He has been taking hits every day since he was fourteen years old. Whether it was for you or his friend, he was willing to surrender his life if it meant even a possibility of saving someone else. “Felix, you have more heart and humanity than anyone I have ever known,” you say. “Everything you have ever done has been because of love, despite what they tried to make you otherwise. How can you not see what I see?”

He looks at you, really looks at you, the way he did this morning. He traces the curve of your cheek and brushes the subtle pout of your lips.

“You’ve always seen more than most people do,” he says. “You give me something else to believe in, you know?”

“Stop flirting,” you tease gently. “This is serious.”

He laughs, his smile soft but sincere. You kiss him slowly, until you are breathing the same uneven breaths, your hearts no doubt beating in tandem.

Then you pick yourselves up and prepare for what comes next.

Your father claims they will be gone for a week but you know it is not true. There is no real mission so they will return in a few days at the latest. For your part, you can only wait.

Even though you have a tenuous plan, it is still hard being separated from Felix. You remind yourself that you could not protect him in the field anyway, but logic is meaningless to your heart. You imagine a version of yourself that is possessed of so many skills, she could wipe out every obstacle without breaking a sweat.

But you are you. Your skills are more emotional than physical and right now that physicality is even worse than usual. You are lethargic from a brutal couple days, weak from the drugging, sore all over, and you cannot sleep well in an empty bed.

You wake repeatedly in the night, startled by a nightmare where you are being taken, where Felix is being beaten, where your father kills him and a dozen boys like him and all you can do is watch. The nightmares drag you into consciousness where you are barely eased, the reality of the world not so different from your nighttime horrors.

In the daylight, you maintain the healthiest disposition possible. You keep your distance from the security team, sitting in your room or quietly on the couch. You do not engage when they antagonize you. They grow bored of your presence soon enough, especially when they cannot get a rise out of you, leaving them with nothing to report to your father.

You expect the hours to drone endlessly.

Then you have a visitor.

You ignore the doorbell. The security team does not seem surprised by the interruption so you disregard it. Maybe it is just another member of the team.

You ignore the bell and the bustle of guards. You head to the kitchen to scrounge for some lunch instead. You hum as you chop vegetables, not paying any mind to the footsteps behind you. You expect it is a member of the security team, stalking you in the name of supervision. You turn to address him, a saccharine sweet smile at your face and a drole quip on your tongue, but your heart stops at the figure standing across from you.

“Hyunjin?”

You breathe more than whisper his name, like surprise has winded you.

You stand there, knife in hand, jaw hanging open as you stare into the face of your old friend. He is somehow even more handsome than you remember, long dark hair framing his face, eyes fierce and cheekbones sharp. An expensive blazer hugs his trim form. His boots resound with a softer thump than combat boots, so you should have realized it was someone else sooner.

You never would have guessed him. You have not seen Hyunjin in years.

“Hello, my girlfriend,” Hyunjin says with a smile, dazzling and beautiful and oh-so very fake.

“What are you doing here?” you ask tentatively, so perplexed by his appearance in your house that you do not know where to begin. You nearly pinch yourself to make sure you are not dreaming.

“Your dad called my dad,” Hyunjin says, his voice very light and casual, like he is picking up a conversation you paused an hour ago and not years ago. “He thought you needed company so you wouldn’t try running away off or something. So here I am. Ta-daaa. Company.”

Security shuffles past the kitchen. Hyunjin pauses, listening to the scuttle of their booted feet. When the din quiets, he smiles at you again. It does not reach his eyes.

“Hyunjin,” you whisper, laying the knife down. “What on earth is happening? Why are you here right now?”

Voices, laughter, the team in the other room. You and Hyunjin look at the door. His smile droops and he leans closer when he says, “Somewhere quieter please.”

You are still in something of a daze when you lead Hyunjin downstairs to the gym. A guard departs after giving the room a sweep, as if anyone or anything could have gotten down here with all the security.

Then it is just you and Hyunjin.

Hyunjin crosses the room, taking in the space and equipment. He whistles long and low while shaking his head. It makes you laugh despite everything.

“No, no, it’s nice,” Hyunjin teases. “I never saw this room before. But I always remembered your house was very small and understated.”

It’s a joke but you cannot force a laugh because his reminiscence sends you hurtling through your own memories. He turns and you see a younger version of him, just for a moment, beaming and bright. Hyunjin used to be the hopeful one, the person with a plan and ambition. He believed there was more to life and he believed he could achieve it. He was so certain that it sparked a flicker of hope in you. Now your flame is an inferno but there is no light or fire behind his eyes. He is so cold that it is hard to believe there was ever a flame.

“Hyunjin,” you say, imploringly. “What happened?”

“A lot,” he says. He puts his hands in his pockets like he feels at ease, but his eyes keep darting around the room, betraying his discomfort.

Though your friendship was short, it was substantial. You know him. Right now he is labouring beneath the weight of his performance, his charming expressions crooked, like poorly fitted clothes. He looks like an uncanny duplicate of the boy you once knew.

You step closer to him. He does not move, frozen in the middle of the room with his hands in his pockets. When he eventually looks at you, it is with a slow lift of the head. You swear you can see a curtain drawing across his face as it happens. This close, you realize just how pale and wan he looks. He is grey at the edges, like he is fading away before your very eyes.

“Hyunjin,” you say, instinctively reaching out. He flinches away from your touch, then tries to smile like it didn’t happen. You do not hide your distress.

He finally drops the pleasant façade. His hands fall out of his pockets and swing at his sides. His countenance is even colder, his striking features sharper than ever as he levels you with a venomous stare.

“Don’t pity me,” he says. “I can’t stand it. I made my choices and I’m living with the consequences.”

“Consequences?” you ask. “Did they catch you trying to—”

“I never left,” he says. “I never even tried. I was close. I had a whole plan. A way to start over. But then...” He turns without any warning and walks to the mirror wall where he looks at himself. His hand hovers in the air, fingers curling. “I met someone,” he says. “And he wasn’t who I thought he was.”

When he does not elaborate, you step closer. You reach out to touch his shoulder, a consolation on the tip of your tongue. Before your touch even lands, he spins around and looks right at you.

“It turns out he was working for my father,” Hyunjin says. He speaks in a plain tone, conveying facts without any unnecessary sentiment, but you can see the red in his eyes as he strains to hold back emotion. “It was my fault for being so stupid. With the way things were going, I should have seen it coming. There is no such thing as selfless love. Everyone serves themselves in the end and I was stupid to compromise my well-being for someone else. I deserved the betrayal.”

“That’s not true,” you say without hesitation. He is talking about someone else but his words feel like a slap against your friendship too. You grab his hand like you can squeeze sense back into him. “I’m so sorry you were hurt,” you say. “But you can’t honestly think—”

“Hurt.” He chokes on the word and rips his hand back. “It nearly killed me. I wish it killed me. I wish I was anywhere but here. But I am stuck here because of my stupid feelings. Everyone has a weakness waiting to be exploited and you can’t trust anyone not to take advantage of yours.”

It sounds so much like your father that you stumble back. It resonates with a heavy slam against your ribs and the heart beating inside them. That heart feels so wrung out these days, swollen with so much love one second then shrivelled with pain the next. It throbs now. You are hurt just witnessing his pain. He has been betrayed and broken and he is unreachable in his grief. You can only imagine what he has endured to end up back here, in this house, with you.

You cannot blame him for guarding himself, but your combative side rears its stubborn head.

“There are good people,” you say. “There are people that can be trusted. You can trust me, after all.”

“I don’t know that,” he says. “We don’t know each other anymore.”

“That is definitely not true,” you say. You and Hyunjin clicked so well because your circumstances were so similar, your fears and pain the same. “We know each other perfectly, Hyunjin,” you say.

He looks away, blinking rapidly. His shoulders hunch. It looks so wrong for a man like him to curl in on himself in shame.

“Fine,” he says. “One person. It doesn’t make a difference.”

“One person makes all the difference,” you say. “Remember Minho?”

That one really makes him flinch. You are pretty sure a slap would hurt less.

“And Felix,” he says, his voice softer now. He scrunches his eyes shut like he can stop his pain with enough concentration. He pushes through and says, “He works for your father, doesn’t he? I remember him at that party. He was with the security team.”

“Yes,” you admit. “He works for him. In a way.”

“And you still trust him?” Hyunjin laughs. He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. “That’s just stupidity.”

“It is not.”

“He works for your father and takes his money and you still trust him not to betray you? That’s stupid.”

“It’s not.” Frustration bubbles inside you. You want to grab him and shake him around, like you can sift through and find the real Hyunjin underneath all this. “I know I can trust him completely.”

“You can’t possibly know that for sure,” he says. “He’ll betray you for the right price. Everyone has a price. You don’t think there’s something he’d trade you for?”

That does sting, if only infinitesimally, as you recall Felix and his conflicting desires. But you do not begrudge Felix for his life choices. He was an impressionable boy, raised to follow orders with no thoughts of his own. It made him wise in some ways and naïve in others. He fell into a bad bargain with a scheming man and found himself trapped. He was forced to make difficult decisions. It was not about choosing you or Chris. You would never make it about that.

“Felix loves me,” you say. “And I love him. You’re right. There are things he wants desperately. But he doesn’t have to trade me for it. He knows I would surrender myself willingly to see him happy. Just like I know, no matter what else happens, he will always come back for me. No matter where they hide me. No matter where I hide myself. No matter what men like my father do to him. We choose each other.”

“Everyone breaks,” Hyunjin says weakly. “No one’s that strong.”

“Not on their own, maybe,” you say. “We’re not alone.”

There was so much ice in his feigned arrogance that you are startled when Hyunjin starts crying. He covers his face with his hands. His shoulders shake and his breath hitches.

“Hyunjin,” you say, your own voice breaking. You rush up to him in a flustered hurry. You touch his head and his shoulders, trying to peer at him through his fingers. “Hyunjin, talk to me, please,” you beg. “Something else is wrong, isn’t it? Hyunjin, why are you here? Where are your parents? Why did my father call yours?”

“My parents are dead,” he barely manages to speak, gasping between his hiccupping cries. “It’s just me. They came for me and my father was difficult, he asked for too much, and they— and I—”

“They?” you say.

It is then you see it. You are clutching his shoulder and it tugs at his blazer. A shirt button pops open and your eyes drop to the exposed bruises across his collarbone. You blink in disbelief at the horrible mosaic beaten into his skin, angry welts of red and purple and yellow. It seems to go all the way down his chest. When you part the material of his shirt, something else catches your eye.

You freeze.

“Oh,” you say. “Hyunjin.”

He is wired. Someone is listening. Your father is listening.

You stop breathing for a moment. The world gets quiet. You look at Hyunjin. An old friend showing up at your house out of nowhere, presented like an offering. Jisung was not important enough for your father to remember, but Hyunjin is a different matter. He is rich if not wealthy. His parents were upwardly mobile, his father the kind of pathetic rich man who thought he was equal to a man like your father. Willing to do awful things to his own son to keep him in his clutches, then selling him to the highest bidder if it meant advancement. His only mistake was asking for too much when he was ultimately expendable. There are always more where he came from.

You want to be wrong. Your father is a busy man. He would not waste time finding Hyunjin and putting him through so much just for this, just to corner you into a confession. But you know he did. This is exactly what he would do. He moves like a coward, killing civilians and poisoning innocent boys, then he makes a show of throwing it in your face.

He always told you friendship was beneath you. What a way to prove it.

“I think you’ve fallen in with a bad crowd,” you say, forcing a laugh through the gathering tears.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, a tearful whisper. He touches your arms like he wants to hug you, but holds himself back.

“Me too,” you say. You warned him a long time ago that befriending you was dangerous. You wish you had been wrong.

You pull him into a hug and he immediately envelopes you, his arms around your shoulders and yours around his waist. He chokes out a sob and squeezes you so tight that your breath catches. Then he just holds you there.

You do not know if it is his cologne or his shampoo, but it smells so familiar. It takes you back to that treehouse, looking over a glittering neighbourhood as the sun set and he dreamed about the dawn.

“I still remember that rhyme, you know,” you say. The address of that cabin, written in a rhyming lilt that you never forgot. “If you ever have a chance again… promise me you’ll try…”

He chokes out another sob.

“How can you still care about what happens to me?” he asks. “What about you?”

“I’ll be fine,” you say. It is spoken calmly, for all that it is a lie. “Promise me?”

He just nods, then pulls you closer again.

You cling to him for as long as you can. It gives you the strength to stay upright despite your shaking legs, even when you hear footsteps coming down the stairs. You brace yourself for the worst, halfway expecting the whole house to erupt in a violent explosion.

It is just a guard. He says, “Time to go, Hwang. Visit’s over.”

You want to keep hugging. You feel like you will fall through the floor if he lets you go. He is just as reluctant, but withdraws when the guard steps into the room. He does not look at you as he leaves, head down as he trails towards the stairs.

“Goodbye, Hyunjin,” you say.

It stops him for a moment. He nods then continues. There is nowhere else to go but back up those stairs.

You are left standing by yourself in the middle of the room. The mirror wall makes the space feel never-ending. You look at your reflection. You look so rough already, scarred from your kidnapping, tear-streaked from crying. Your hands tremble uncontrollably. You remember a younger version of yourself sitting in front of this mirror with Felix, for a moment feeling like a normal girl with her boy. His touch brought you to life. He made you feels things you thought you would never feel.

It will be your own voice your father plays back to you, your own confession betraying you.

You will not be sorry for it.

You look at yourself and wipe your face. You take a breath. You walk to the stairs, one step after another. There are guards upstairs but they pay you no mind. They have clearly received no orders, not yet. You could try to make a run for it, but you would not get far on your own.

Instead, you go upstairs to your room. You look around like it is the last time you will ever see it. You know that is not true, logically. Your father will not kill you, but there are fates just as devastating.

You walk through the room. It is plainly decorated with a mix of things owned by you and Felix. For all that this house is not a home, you carved a shared space in this room. You sit on the bed and study everything from discarded clothes to books to computer parts.

Something compels you to open the drawer on his side of the bed, that same single drawer you allotted when he first moved in. A ragged old beanie sits at the bottom of it, the first thing he ever owned. You fold it over in your hand and squeeze it like a talisman, like it will infuse you with some magic to endure whatever storm is blowing your way.

You cross the room and touch a few more things. You find some university textbooks and your heart aches with the desire to return to those times. You lived a fleeting few years like you were completely free, in love and happy and home.

You will probably never see Seungmin or Jeongin again, but it brings you some peace to know they will live good lives. You will never forget their willingness to intervene on your behalf despite the odds being so stacked against them. Maybe they were not very good at it, smacking chairs and throwing drinks, but you will remember them fondly. You wish you could say goodbye.

With that thought, you pause. Your gaze drifts to your computer.

You cannot say goodbye to Seungmin or Jeongin, but you can say goodbye to someone else.

You never wanted to risk contacting Jisung from home, just in case your father was found out. But everything is ending today, one way or another. There is nothing more you can lose. You will take some comfort in a final word to an old friend before you are sealed in this gilded mausoleum.

You sit at your computer. You log into the blank profile you made some time ago. It is hard to tell if you are nervous because your stomach is so twisted in knots already, but you think there might be some happy anticipation. You try to manage your expectations because there is a chance Jisung did not read the messages, seeing as they came from a blank account.

You should have known better than to doubt him. You log in to several new messages, laughing from the first line.

OH MY GOD!!!!!!!! IT’S YOU????? MY GIRL!!!!!!!

Okay sorry about that I am totally so cool I promise. I’m just in shock.

I know you told me not to, but just so you know, I spent a year trying to reach you...

Well, actually, I spent like four months crying my eyes out and being miserable and pathetic first.. On god, I eyed a jar of peanut butter with some serious thought for a minute there!!! But then no, no way. I had to keep going.

I tried to find you. Your bitch ass dad is famous because he’s an ugly rich loser so his properties are listed all over a million websites. I found the one in town where you must live and I rode my bike there a bunch of times but uhhhhh yeah much to my eternal disappointment I am not James Bond and that security system was insane. Don’t even get me started on when all the dudes in the army gear kept showing up.

On an unrelated note it’s way harder to buy explosives than you’d think.

Just want you to know I did try to get in there. You were never alone even if you felt like it.

But it sounds like you’re not alone anyway HELLLL YEAHHHHH she is getting SOOOME. All jokes aside I am crazy happy for you. You deserve it for real. He better be treating you right though or I WILL find a way through that gate and I WILL kick his ass. Just say the word and I will be there in a heartbeat.

He goes on for a while, the whole length of his message making you smile. When you did not respond, he sent a few more, spaced further and further apart from each other. The last message he sent was just a few days ago.

Hey I don’t know if you’re getting these. I like to think so. You don’t have to answer if you are. I know you are in a dangerous spot. Or maybe you’re not anymore and you got out. In that case, I hope you never read these. I hope you’re out there living your best life. Maybe we’ll cross paths again but if not, I count myself lucky for knowing you at all. I think we’re both slightly insane and everyone else I meet is way too normal haha.

What I’m trying to say is I miss you like crazy. I hope we can laugh together again someday. Even if we never do, let’s say we will. Keep smiling till I’m there. Catch ya later crazy girl.

You smile. Then emotion takes over, tears returning as you lay your hands on the keyboard to type a response.

You have just hit send when there is a knock at your door, then it is opened without your permission. You turn and look at the stoic guard who beckons you forward.

“Your father is home,” he says. “He wants a word.”

You nod. You spare one last look at you screen before logging out and shutting down. You are certain it is the last message you will get to send. A warmth fills your chest regardless. You know it will reach Jisung. His laughter and energy fills you with the strength you need to walk steadily out that door and down the hall.

Hi Jisungie.

Thank you for your messages. I just read them all now. It wasn’t easy for me to check them before, but I did it today because it might be the last time I have an opportunity to do so. My father found out about my love affair and seeing as it was with the one person he could not afford to lose, I have no doubt that a reckoning is on its way. I thought he was bad before, but he has only gotten worse over the years. I am sure this betrayal will put him over the edge.

I do not know what is going to happen. I was scared until I read your messages. They truly made me smile. You have always made me a little braver. I think I got less rebellious over the years because I got scared, but now… The worst has happened and I’m still here.

I will figure it out. But in case I never get the chance to talk to you again, I just wanted to say thank you one more time. I miss you too, Jisungie. I think about you so much. I wish I could laugh with you again, the kind of laughter where nothing is all that funny but we can’t stop anyway. Thank you for the times we did.

I am happy to have lived my life because I knew you. I appreciate all the good times so much more because of the hard times. You were a one-of-a-kind friend. I’d do it all again in a heartbeat.

Keep smiling for me.

Goodbye.

Your father is behind his desk.

There is no one else in the room. They close the door behind you. You walk calmly up to the desk and take a seat in your usual spot. You sit as straight as you can, perched on the edge of the seat. You are still lower than him, but you feel bigger and stronger than you have ever felt in your life.

Your father draws out the silence, perhaps waiting for you to break down. You stare at each other. When he opens his mouth to speak, you interrupt him. You are uninterested in games and dramatic embellishments, which you know he will indulge. You simply ask, “What did you do to Hyunjin?”

“I would not worry about the Hwang boy if I was you,” your father says spitefully. “You have bigger concerns—”

“And yet I am asking about him,” you snap. “What are you doing with him?”

“What I do with everything when it is no longer useful to me,” he says.

It is the answer you were expecting but it still draws your rage like a magnet. It punches out of you, your eyes wet with tears when you say, “You’re pathetic.”

“How many times must you suffer humiliation at my enemy’s hands before you understand that none of this is a game?” His voice rises as he speaks. “Do you want to be out on the streets? Do you want to be brutalized? Do you want—”

“I would rather die rotting in the sewers with Felix than spend even one more minute under your roof,” you say.

You wonder what surprises your father more: the vicious tone or your blatant confession. It stuns him into silence. You know you have disrupted his script. There is little sense in taunting you with your words if you utter them plainly before he can try.

“I see,” your father settles on saying. He presses a button on his desk and the buzzer in the corridor resounds. “Let’s put that to the test, shall we?”

The door opens and several guards usher inside. You spare them a fleeting glance before your attention narrows to the figure between them.

“Felix!” You stand but cannot reach him. He is surrounded by guards and they will not let you touch a hair on his head.

He moves like he is completely boneless, evidently drugged with something to make him bleary and slow. He thumps heavily onto his knees when they put him there. His eyes are hazy as he looks around the office. They pause on you, flicking up and down, then he smiles through the pain.

The pain. It is not just a drug. He looks like he went a few rounds with a cement wall, his lip split and his jaw bruised. His bandaged hand is soaked through with blood, the rest him as battered. His injuries disappear beneath his shirt and pants but you know it is not a pretty sight. You swallow down the bile in your throat before looking at your father.

“He’s your best asset,” you say. “You can’t lose him.”

“Oh? Can’t I?” your father asks. “Can’t I? Can’t I? You think you know something? You think you can tell me what to do? You, when all you do is destroy what I make? I give you everything and this—this is how you—” His yelling sharpens to a shriek before he starts breaking things. It pulls Felix further out of his haze, his eyes tracking the frantic movements as your father smashes a vase near your feet.

You think about that tiny shard of glass from last time, the miniscule thing that started it all. It makes you laugh even though nothing is funny. Laughter is an emotional output just like crying, so it pours out of you with no regard for the actual gravity of the situation.

It only worsens your father’s rage.

“Does something here amuse you?” he asks, but you are laughing too hard to answer. There is a vein throbbing in his forehead and you imagine it bursting. You imagine all your problems solving themselves as he drops dead from his own rage. The image is even funnier because you truly cannot imagine this man dying. He is a monster. If you stab him, you fear he will just mutate and come back worse.

“You want to laugh?” he snaps. He crosses the room to Felix. “Laugh.”

He holds out his hand and someone places a gun in his open palm. This snaps you out of your delirious giggles, a winded whoosh spilling out of you.

Your father does not execute action himself. He always puts the gun in someone else’s hand. The fact he is pointing it at Felix should tell you that his threat is not serious.

But he has never been this furious, his anger a white hot cascade of fire. Felix is just inches from the barrel of the gun. Even an inexpert marksmen like your father could drive a bullet between his eyes.

So the moment he grips the weapon, you shout, “Stop!”

Your father looks at you with a cock of his head, satisfied with your reaction.

Then he jumps back because Felix rushes to his feet, most of the fog dissipated. Your father’s stupid men did not think for a moment that Felix would repeat a strategy. Just days before he allowed himself to be captured so he could rescue you. It seems he has done that again, feigning the depth of his condition. He swings to his feet and kicks out.

His injuries restrict his movement. He is good at ignoring pain but his body overrides his consciousness. He fights nonetheless, struggling with the guards while you watch.

You look around for something that can help. You snatch a paper weight off the desk and prepare to throw.

Your father is a step ahead of you. Suddenly you are staring down the barrel of a gun, your father on the other end, fuming.

“No—!” Felix says before he is beaten down. With his attention diverted, a guard kicks the back of his legs. His knees buckle and he goes down with a groan.

You look at him then flick your eyes back to your father. You raise both hands and lift a challenging eyebrow.

“You want to do this?” you ask. “Really? After everything?”

“After everything,” your father says. “Exactly my words. A house, an education, unending protection. You want for nothing. All I ask in return is obedience and you cannot even grant me that. You have the audacity to betray me for this animal.” He waves the gun around like the clumsy, ungainly thing he is. It makes a few heads duck, including yourself. You fear this man will kill someone without even trying. It makes it hard to listen, which might be for the best, as he goes on a long tirade about privilege and position and loyalty.

He starts merely angry but it turns downright diabolical.

“And you.” He turns to Felix. “I dug you out of Miroh’s gutter! I made you a bargain! I gave your meaningless life purpose! You are nothing without me. How dare you think to take what is mine. How dare you think you are anything more than a dog. How long have you kept this secret? How am I supposed to trust it is the last? You are a liar. For all I know you are lying about everything. Is that it? Are you a spy, feeding reports back to Miroh? Is that why I can never succeed in my missions? Have you been—”

Felix bursts into laughter. His face scrunches with delight, his cheeks dimpled. The low rumble of his laughing voice sounds real, honest amusement at the proclamation. It fades to a sigh, then he looks up.

You have never seen such a dark glare shadow his features, made all the more horrifying thanks to his bloody injuries. It makes your stomach drop even though it is not directed at you.

“You fail at all your missions because you’re an incompetent idiot,” Felix says. “You couldn’t even control two children. What makes you think you can control Miroh?”

“Have you forgotten our bargain?” your father yells, waving the gun towards Felix again. “You lie and trick your way into my household and still expect—”

“Our bargain,” Felix spits the word and some blood sprays out. He spits the rest on the floor and shakes his head. “I know he’s dead. You killed him a long time ago.”

The room is quiet for a moment. Your father is still holding the gun, though it dangles at his side. He and Felix stare each other down. Although Felix is kneeling, his sinister stare is far more terrifying than your father’s blank gaze. But then that empty gaze turns cold and your father smiles, one of those sharp smiles that opens like a slash across his face.

“Now how would you know that,” your father says, “if you are not a spy for Miroh?”

“One of Miroh’s men told us at the warehouse,” you interrupt. It earns you nothing but a wrathful glare from your father. He gestures to you and a guard puts a threatening hand on your shoulder.

“You will speak when spoken to,” your father snaps. He looks at Felix again. “Oh. Yes. You. Whoops. I very nearly forgot, it was so long ago when I killed your friend. Does that make you sad? Poor little boy. You should have remembered your place. Your kind are born to die for men like me.”

“Men like you,” Felix says. Mourning will have to wait so he laughs because he cannot cry. “You’re pathetic. Not a surprise, though, yeah? Since your father took care of everything before I killed him—oh. Whoops.” He tilts his head and smiles, speaking with the same saccharine tone your father just used to mock him. “It was so long ago. I almost forgot I shot your daddy in the fucking head. Does that make you sad? Poor little boy. You should have remembered your place and stayed behind your walls. You’ll never be a man like him.”

Your father has never looked so stricken. You did not even know his face could contort such a way. It makes him look very human for the few heartbeats that it lingers. You can almost picture a younger version of your father, breaking under the fist of his father before him.

Then he schools himself. Once more, the untouchable monster stands before you. The gun wobbles only a little when he raises it, taking aim at Felix.

“Stop!” you shout. You were just picturing the passing of generations, so maybe that explains why your panicked brain compels you to blurt, “You can’t kill him! I’m pregnant!”

This time every head in the room swivels towards you. Even the other guards do not hide their surprise. Your father stares, jaw agape, and Felix looks just as bewildered. You feel bad because you can see thought flickering behind his eyes, wondering if maybe you are telling the truth. It makes his face change, pain flashing. Panic seeps into his veins.

“Excuse me?” your father says.

You almost trip on the chair. Your knees knock and your voice shakes when you say, “You heard me.”

“I know what I heard.” At least it succeeds in garnering your father’s attention. He forgets about Felix entirely as he stalks towards you, gun clutched in his undoubtedly sweaty hand. “My problem lies in understanding how this can be.”

“Well,” you say slowly. “I can’t imagine you really want me to explain that—”

You father backhands you across the face. You careen into his desk, barely catching yourself.

“It could work in my favour yet,” your father says. “Start fresh. Fix where I went wrong with you. Because you are an irredeemable and entirely lost cause.”

This baby is not even real yet you panic at the thought. It unspools an infinite and horrifying future, this house an eternal monstrosity birthing a new generation of tyrant and monster. Hurting and contorting everyone in the family name for the sake of maintaining that vast estate.

This has to stop.

“Of course I am,” you say. You take a long, steadying breath, then you push yourself upright. You turn to your father and meet his gaze, aware of the gun but feigning complete nonchalance. “I can’t believe it has taken you this long to realize it,” you say. “You lost me a long, long time ago. You want to control everything because you’re scared of losing anything. But you’ve already lost what you were trying so hard to protect and you can never, ever get it back. I will not continue what your father started. I will not be what you have become. I am not like you and I am proud of that. I am proud that I love my friends, and Felix, despite how much you tried to stop me. But I am me and I am not scared.”

You dive at him, a vicious tackle spurred by that hurricane of emotion inside you. You tackle him so quickly that it takes the guards a second to react. The gun clatters to the floor as it flies out of his hand. He throws up his fists to protect his face when you swing down with all your might. What you lack in physical strength you compensate with drive, slamming your fists down without care for where they land, again and again and again.

Then someone grabs you by the collar and yanks. It is one of the guards, pulling you to your feet. Your father shrieks and hollers like a wounded dog, snarling and frothing like one too. He gets to his feet and swings at you.

Felix rises, struggling to reach you. You stretch out your hand, your fingertips touching before you are yanked apart from each other. You cry out, struggling in the guard’s death grip to no avail. Felix is fighting the other guards but his injuries put him at a disadvantage.

You are dragged away from the chaos. Your father picks up the discarded gun on his way.

“Take her outside!” he shouts at the guard, then turns to the mess in his office. “Don’t waste your energy. Shoot the boy.”

“No!” you scream, so guttural you hardly recognize the sound. You cry as gunshots ring in the office, but you lose sight of the skirmish as you are dragged, kicking and screaming, down the stairs and out the front door.

You curse at your father and the guard, bits of your shirt ripping when you fight to escape. You are smacked and twisted, your shoulder popping so painfully that it makes you wail.

“Stop it, stop it!” You are fully sobbing, either from pain or panic. It does no good as you are dragged into the night. The grand driveway is lit like a stage awaiting players, lamps and towers beaming over the pavement. The gate opens to the street beyond. It is pitch black. There are no other houses on this hillside, the estate sprawling across its expanse, so there are no streetlights. A black car is parked on the curb. It feels like a chariot to the underworld, black and swallowed by shadow. You are as good as dead. Felix might be truly dead.

You struggle some more but you are in so much pain. Your father is shouting directions at the guard and it splits his attention. His grip loosens and you successfully break free.

You do not hesitate. You run into the street, straight through the pitch black. If you run far enough, you will eventually reach a proper street leading into the city. You do not even care which direction you go. You just run, ignoring the screaming pain in your muscles as your feet hit the pavement.

A gunshot pierces the quiet night. You stumble to a stop, throwing your hand up over your heart. You touch your chest, expecting to find a bloody wound. But there is nothing, not a single drop. You were not shot.

You spin around and watch the guard fall to the ground, a bullet in his head. Your father turns too, holding his own gun at the approaching figure.

Your knees almost buckle as relief washes over you, Felix storming down the driveway with a gun of his own raised at your father. Felix is badly wounded, but even at his worst he is a far better shot than your father. They both know it too, staring each other down as Felix gets closer and closer.

“Stop where you are!” your father screams, his voice breaking.

Felix ignores him, gun still raised. Your father fires a shot that goes wide. Felix does not even blink as it ricochets off a wall. He walks calmly to the sidewalk where your father stands. He does not smirk or gloat. He just looks at the frightened man who terrorized the world to make himself feel better, and he lines up a shot.

Felix pulls the trigger.

Nothing happens.

His brow furrows before his face twists with fury. The gun has jammed or it’s out of bullets, but either way it is useless. He lowers his arm, the gun dangling from his hand as he stares at your father.

Your father just laughs, a ridiculous and semi-hysterical laugh as he stumbles back but never lowers the gun. Felix is much closer now. Even your father could not miss this shot.

Felix drops his gun and smiles weakly.

“She’s funny, you know,” Felix says. “And smarter than anyone I know. She picks up on things everyone else misses. It’s too bad you can’t see it. But then, you’re not like her.”

“Shut up,” your father snaps. “You have exceeded your uses, boy.”

You realize you are running. Even before the conscious thought reaches your mind, your body spurs you into action. Instinct commandeers control and you hand yourself over to it. Felix looks up just as you emerge from the dark. He sees your face for a split second, enough time for him to realize what you are doing and shout, “Stop!”

Your father’s finger is already on the trigger. A shot rings out and this time it does hit you, sharp and searing as you dive in front of Felix.

The gun hits the ground. Your father looks at you with petrified eyes. Felix catches you, supporting your weight as he sinks to his knees with you in his arms.

“Sweetheart,” he says, touching your face, your neck, your chest. “Sweetheart, look at me. Stay with me.”

The pain is excruciating, like nothing you have ever felt before. You cannot even tell where it is coming from. It feels like your neck and shoulder and heart all at once. It radiates and burns. The pain is so overwhelming that you do not notice the wet, tacky feeling of blood. You see it before you feel it, all over Felix’s fingers as he finds the bullet wound in your shoulder.

“It’s okay,” he says, barely more than a gasp. His chest is rising and falling rapidly. You scream in agony when he grabs your shoulder and squeezes it hard in his fist. “I know, I know,” he says. “It exited clean. There’s nothing vital there. You’ll be okay, sweetheart, I got you. I just have to staunch the blood. We just have to—” His voice breaks on a sob and he looks up at your father, his hand covered in your blood and his rage as red on his face. “We have to get her help. Now.”

Your father’s response is to pick up the gun. He nearly drops it, his shaking hands clammy, but he gets an unsteady grip eventually. He points it at Felix again.

“Are you fucking serious?” Felix shouts in aggravation. “Your daughter is going to bleed to death if you don’t do something. Put the fucking gun down!”

“Get away from her,” your father says. “Get away from her and put your hands up. I’ll get her help.”

“No,” you say, shaking your head then crying when pain lances down your neck. “No, Felix. Don’t.”

Your father will not take another shot at Felix, not with you in his arms. Your father might want to control you, but he does not want you dead. You are the only thing that is protecting Felix now. If he moves, he dies.

“Don’t go,” you beg. “Felix, please.”

“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart,” Felix says. He looks up at your father, venom in his voice as he asks, “Are you really going to stand there and let your daughter die?”

“Are you going sit there and let her die?” your father retorts. “Get away from her and I will save her.”

You feel Felix twitch. He presses his fingers a little harder, stopping a rush of blood. It makes you weep and you plead, “Felix no. Please. I can’t watch that. I’d rather it end like this.”

“Don’t say that.” Felix looks down at you. His bloody hand is shaking, tears spilling down his cheeks as he looks at you. “Nothing’s ending. You’re gonna be fine.”

“It never ends,” your father babbles. He almost drops the gun when he trips over the lip of the sidewalk, stumbling backwards into the street as he stares at you. You stare back, wondering if it is your blurry vision or if he is really crying. All you can see is him wiping his face, the gun trembling in his hand. “It just keeps going,” he says. “Only I can end it.”

He is taking aim again. You cannot tell if he is aiming for you or Felix, maybe some half-baked delirious plan in his twisted mind to put you out of your misery and take Felix with you.

Felix does not have time to attack. He can only curl his body around yours to protect you from the shot.

Then a beam of light shatters the dark. It flies up the street, illuminating your father. He looks in that direction. Everyone is drowning in their sobs and it is all so loud that it takes a second to hear it: the heavy, growling drone of a speeding car, hurtling ever closer. The white of a high-beam headlight blinds your father with lightning hot intensity.

It is the last thing he ever sees.

Felix is as startled as you. You both cry out in horrified shock. He blocks your body to shield you from the sudden and unexpected gore. Noiseless convulsions tremble through your whole body as you stare up at Felix, not understanding what just happened.

You both look over as the car rapidly reverses, disappearing just as quickly as it came. In its wake is your father, or what remains of him.

Just like that, the whole world tilts on its axis.

You cannot comprehend what you are seeing. This man was a towering, nightmarish monstrosity, bigger than life and death, holding the world in his fist. Even he desperately believed in his own mythology. It seems impossible that he could be that nightmare but also be this, a broken and very human body, muscle and gristle and protruding bone, half flattened to the tarmac. A sudden and entirely undignified death, comically animal, and as lowly as everything he ever disparaged.

You and Felix stare at him, at the mess of his ruined dead body on the dark street. It is so, so quiet. The house is so still. The street is empty. You can hear the soft buzz of the floodlights.

You make a hurt noise. Felix looks down with a perplexed shake of his head. But he only has a moment to mind you, his mouth open with some unspoken thought, when you hear the car again.

You both look over, your heart racing and your blood spilling over his hand. He is wearing his most determined face, braced to face an adversary.

You do not know who to anticipate. It makes no sense for Miroh to be here. He would not have known anything unusual was transpiring at this house tonight. How could he know to send someone? Yet it is the only thing that makes sense. The only person who could have taken down someone like your father would be someone just like him.

You are braced for the worst when the car comes to a stop. The dead body looks more grotesque as the headlights flash over it.

The driver does not turn off the engine. You hear the patter of frantic footsteps before the silhouette is illuminated by the car lights. Wide eyes meet yours and your heart stutters. Your tears are halted by the face staring back at you.

“Oh my god,” Jisung says. “That was the bad guy, right?”

Felix reacts first, a bark of laughter made in disbelief as he stares at your startled best friend.

Han Jisung is both the same and different, with a flop of dark hair and big brown eyes, but years have passed, leaving him bulkier and more mature. He pushes a pair of glasses up his nose, the wide frames only exaggerating his eyes, making it very easy to hold his gaze when he looks at you.

“Jisung,” you say, and start crying all over again. “Jisung.” You cannot seem to find another word. You just gasp his name between sobs.

Jisung practically flies towards you, landing on his knees.

“Hey, stranger,” he says, carefully touching your cheek. “You’ve looked better, I’m not gonna lie.”

You laugh even though it hurts, reaching for him with a shaking hand. He takes it despite it being sticky with blood, cupping it safely in his own.

“You’re here,” you say. “How? Why?”

“Of course I’m here,” he replies in a soft voice. “I got in my car as soon as I saw that goodbye message.” He gently squeezes your hand. “You didn’t think I’d let you get away twice, did you?”

Your laugh is more of a sob, in too much pain to truly smile. Felix asks Jisung to help, showing him where to apply pressure. Jisung complies, holding you while Felix tugs off his shirt. It leaves him in a tank top, all his scars and bruises on display. You want to fuss over him too but he gives you no opportunity to linger, using his shirt as a makeshift tourniquet for your wound.

“So your boyfriend is Felix,” Jisung says while he works. “That’s great. I was rooting for you two crazy kids. Felix had a pretty obvious crush on you in high school. I didn’t say anything because you kinda seemed to hate his guts but I guess that’s not true anymore. You had some bigger bastards to hate. Speaking of, that was your dad I got right? I mean, I didn’t even think, I just saw him waving that gun around and I hit the pedal. Next thing I knew—ohhh shit, Felix, you’re really strong, what the fuck, man. Have you been working out—”

Felix scoops you into his arms and stands. His usual unwavering strength falters just a little, his injuries protesting his action. You tell him to put you down because it will do no good for you both to collapse. Jisung stands and helps steady you. They both lay a hand on your back, taking some of your weight as your feet touch the ground and you wobble.

“That’s my girl,” Jisung says. “Oh man, that’s a lot of blood, ha ha ha – AHH. No, it’s fine, we’re okay. Careful—”

“Jisung,” Felix says, looking past you to meet his eye. “Are you okay?”

A more than fair question considering how fast everything just happened. Jisung stops rambling and takes a few deep breaths before he answers.

“Okay, yeah,” he says. “Totally fine. For now.”

“Okay,” Felix says. “Because I need you to take her while I—”

Your ignore their conversation. Your eyes are on your father. You cannot even call it his body; it is a carcass. His lower half is gored but his face is mostly whole. You half-expect his mouth to open with a wailing shout. You are so distracted with the thought, you misstep and your weak ankles give out. You are spared a kiss with the pavement when Jisung catches you. It is a haphazard embrace, throwing his arms around you to keep you upright.

“Can you take care of her until I get back?” Felix asks.

“Uh-huh. Yes,” Jisung says. He puts his growing bulk to use and lifts you into his arms, bridal style. You cannot move your shoulder to lift your arms around him, but you rest your head in the curve of his neck as he carries you to his car.

His car. Hysterical giggles bubble inside you, quashed only by the physical ache of your body. Han Jisung really raced back into your life and annihilated the worst of your demons by driving right at him.

Years of nightmares and beatings and pain. Years of your father lording his power over you and the world. Years of believing he was terrifying and untouchable.

Jisung always said it was that easy. He was just a teenager, lookingat the impossible powers that surrounded his friend but believing whole-heartedly he could save her anyway. You argued and pushed him away, but he knew better all along. Jisung was not cowed by money and influence, not impressed or frightened by men like your father who ravaged the world and gloated about it. Jisung had no power or influence of his own but that didn’t matter. He saw his friend was in a bad situation and he wanted to save you. So he did.

He carefully rests you in the passenger seat. In the time it takes him to circle to the driver’s side, you break down crying. The pain exacerbates it, your body seeking release, but it is sentiment that pours out of your heart.

Jisung gets in, looking very startled. He adjusts his glasses.

“Did it get worse?” he asks, reaching for you with a bloody hand. You look at it, you look at him, very literally stained with blood on your behalf. He is staying composed but you can see the jitters under his skin. He just killed someone for you. It might have been a panicked, spur of the moment decision, but the end result was the same. Even though your father was not a good man, taking a life is a serious burden.

And here he is, placing that weight aside so he can check on you.

“Jisung,” you say. You wish your hands were not so dirty because you want to touch his face or hold his hand. You satisfy yourself with leaning towards him, touching your forehead to his cheek as you cry.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Jisung says. He shifts so your foreheads are touching, his clean hand cupping your cheek. “I got you, okay? It’s over now. Felix is gonna take care of it and I’m gonna take care of you. It’ll be okay. Don’t be scared, all right?”

“I’m not,” you say. “What did I do to deserve you?”

“You’re my friend,” Jisung says. “You don’t have to do anything to deserve it, okay? Look. I know what will make you feel better.” He reaches past you into the glove compartment. You have no idea what he could possibly have in there that will make you feel better while bleeding out of a bullet wound in the passenger seat of his car, the same car he used to murder your abusive father.

He fishes around then pulls out a bag of spicy peanuts, the same flavour you used to eat all the time in high school. Even though he was allergic, he bought them whenever he found them, just because he knew you liked them.

You take them slowly, staring at the familiar packaging. You sniffle.

“It was always going to be you, wasn’t it?” you say softly. You could cry all over again. “You really came back.”

Of course Jisung saved you. You realize now your father could never be bested by Miroh or someone like him. They would be locked in a perpetual stalemate, predicting each other’s every step, giving and taking and killing in a circle of violence with no end. But Jisung is not like them.

Whether the gesture was big or small, whether it was peanuts or a rescue, it was selfless, and someone like your father would never understand that. He never saw it coming.

“Well, yeah,” Jisung says. “My promise was forever, remember?”

You can only nod, bumping your heads together. Jisung wraps you in a hug then kisses your forehead before buckling in and taking the steering wheel.

“All right,” he says. “We can catch up after. Let’s get away from this place. It’s giving me the creeps.”

It is strange looking at your house on a news report. It makes you feel like you are watching someone else’s life.

You are stitched and showered, sitting on the floor of a twin bed motel room. You are still damp from the shower but each little trickle feels like blood, your jittery fingers constantly swiping at your skin.

Jisung sits behind you on the bed, his legs bracketing you, double checking your stitches. Felix said it was paramount to avoid a hospital or any other institution that would identify you. He told Jisung to book a room at a motel on the highway and wait for him, that he would stitch you up himself when he arrived. Jisung took the initiative, boasting some first aid training for his job at the grocery store.

“Usually I’m putting bandages on a cut finger,” Jisung said, hands covered in blood as he fixed your wound, “but this is, uh, similar I guess. Sort of.”

Felix arrived while you were in the shower. Now he is in there, cleaning himself and minding his own injuries while you and Jisung watch the evening news report. The blinds are closed, rain pelting the canopy over the balcony, but you are tucked away from the storm, hidden from the world as it mourns you.

“A devastating house fire is believed to have left no survivors on the premises,” the reporter says, backdropped with a video of an inferno ravaging your father’s house. “Police are still investigating, but among the suspected dead is a prominent local businessman and his daughter.” They show a portrait of your father and an old yearbook photo of you. That girl looks nothing like the battered woman you are now. You really do feel like you are watching someone’s else story end.

“Wow,” Jisung says, watching too. “How does it feel to be dead?”

You rest your head against his knee, sighing as you stare at the television.

“I’m not dead,” you say, staring at the photo of you. That girl might be dead, but you are very alive.

Felix accidentally swings the bathroom door too hard, the thud like a gunshot in your mind. You jump a mile out of your skin, digging your nails into Jisung’s leg unthinkingly.

“Ah ah ah ah—” Jisung grabs your wrist to pry you off.

“Sorry,” Felix says, truly apologetic. He closes the door with a gentle click then approaches. He sits beside Jisung on the bed, laying his hand on your head and looking you over. “How are you?” Felix asks. He pays no mind to the news report but that is likely because he is responsible for the story they are broadcasting. You know Felix would tell you every detail if you asked, but you decide you do not want to know how he moved the bodies around. It is enough to see the walls of that place burning.

He packed a few things first. A stuffed duffel bag sits on the other bed. Perhaps it should feel daunting, that all you have left is a single bag of necessities, but it feels freeing. You are not burdened by the weight of more. Your hands might be shaking and you might be hurt in more ways than one, but you can exhale.

You take Felix’s hands and kiss his scraped knuckles.

“I’m fine,” you say. “What about you?”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he says. He looks more tired than you have ever seen him, but he manages a laugh when you pout at him. “Don’t do that,” he says, flicking your bottom lip. “Just some bad bruises, yeah? I’ll be fine.”

You know he is not fine but you respect his desire for peace. You can check his injuries later when he has settled.

“Well then, what about you, Jisungie?” you ask. You turn around to face him. “How are you?”

“Uh, honestly…” Jisung rakes his fingers through his hair then exhales on a shaky laugh. “I’ll let you know when I know. It’s all a bit—uh—”

“Yeah,” you say, taking his hand. “I know.”

You suspect there will be no proper words for a while. You cannot even think of recovery while your wounds throb. There are still gunshots firing in your mind. When you close your eyes, you see a body on the pavement. You expect a knock at the door and a gun in your face, even though there is no reason for that. Miroh is probably sitting back and laughing at the detonation of your father’s house. Your father’s people and investors will scramble over the company tomorrow. That world will turn without you. You will not miss it.

You struggle to sleep that night. You lay on your back to mind your shoulder but that is not your only grievance. Felix lays beside you where he belongs and Jisung is in the other bed, so you are not alone anymore, but your adrenaline will not dwindle. Now that you have a moment of peace, it feels more chaotic than ever.

When you start breathing harder, Felix wraps an arm around you.

“Sweetheart,” he whispers. He does not ask what is wrong. It is more than self-explanatory. You do not need to speak.

You want to roll over and bury your face in his neck, but you cannot move because of your shoulder. You suffice to hold his arm tight, closing your eyes as his protective embrace surrounds you. His heart beats against your body and you let it lull you into a gentle repose.

You do not sleep for long. There is morning light when you wake but it is a bleary, early grey light. Everything smells a little damp from the rain. This is a small motel, meant to serve as a momentary respite for passing travellers. You cannot stay here.

Felix wakes when you do. After a few morning kisses, he rises to use the washroom. Jisung is still fast asleep in his bed, his cheek squished and his hair a shaggy mess on the pillow. You smile, looking at him. There is a gap between the beds but he is close enough to touch if you stretch. You content yourself with looking, thinking about how lucky you are to have him again. It is a light and happy thought, but it darkens very swiftly when you recall what he did to save you. It is going to weigh on him, whether all at once or in pieces.

The weight of trauma will be a heavy burden, but you are alive to carry it. There are others who are less lucky. You think about Hyunjin and your heart strains, recalling his final miserable departure. Your father implied he had Hyunjin killed. If he was not bluffing to antagonize you, then Hyunjin did not stand a chance.

You are sniffling with tears when Jisung blinks awake. He mutters in groggy gibberish before reaching for his glasses. His tired voice is tinged with concern when he asks, “What is it? Do you need something?”

“No,” you say, wiping your tears. “I was just thinking I know where I want to go next.”

It is hard to talk about Hyunjin so you opt for vagueness over specificity. The boys do not question the subject of the cabin when you mention his name. You do not tell them he might be dead. You feel like if you speak it out loud, it will make it true.

It will take a week to reach the cabin by car. Jisung helps you loads the necessities into the back a truck that Felix procured, only questioning its seeming manifestation after the fact.

“I stole it,” Felix answers.

“You stole a car?” Jisung asks. It is a good thing the motel parking lot is empty because he practically shouts it, like stealing a car is the most horrifying thing he has ever heard. You remember how you had the same reaction the first time Felix stole a vehicle.

It makes you laugh when Felix draws his lips into a thin line, shaking his head at Jisung. He turns to you and says, “You two really are identical, you know?”

“What does that mean?” Jisung asks.

“I said the same thing the last time he stole a car,” you say.

“Dude!” Jisung whips around. “You stole two cars?”

“You know I’ve killed people, right?” Felix says dryly.

“Well yeah, I mean, who hasn’t,” Jisung says with a nervous giggle.

You whack him on the arm and shake your head. “That’s not funny,” you say.

“It’s a little funny,” he whispers while you roll your eyes.

Though you want to keep him at your side, it feels selfish to ask Jisung to come with you. He has a life here and he has already done so much to help you. But he surprises you by emphatically volunteering himself, saying he at least wants to help get you there.

“I don’t think I could just walk back into my normal life tomorrow like nothing happened,” Jisung says, tucking you under one arm. “I don’t know what’s gonna happen next. Can’t control it. But I know where I want to be right now. I’ll figure out the rest after.”

So you take to the road, your destination a small cabin far away from your old life. You stop along the way, at first for food and other necessities, mostly stolen by Felix, but then for pleasure when you drive through towns with interesting landmarks. On the clearer nights, you sleep in the bed of the truck.

You still do not stop for a real discussion. You indulge the mental break while you can, all three of you taking the time to literally stop and smell the flowers on the journey.

Bandages still need changing. Stitches need minding. The night before your anticipated arrival, you are in another motel room. You and Felix sit in the small kitchenette, playing cards at the tiny table, while Jisung showers and goes about his nightly routine.

You throw down a couple cards. You look at Felix while he studies his hand. The swelling on his face has gone down which is good for numerous reasons. He has been wearing a baseball cap everywhere, the brim pulled low, to stop people from staring.

There is a hard set to his shoulders. It has been like that for a few days. Even in your father’s house, there were moments Felix would soften, namely when he was curled up in your shared bed and the world seemed far away. Maybe he cannot relax because the world is so immediate now. It is strange that potential happiness can cause as much anxiety as its opposite. Perhaps it is because it is so unfamiliar. Your body only knows how to brace itself.

Felix was raised for that express purpose. Road trips and gardens and motel rooms was not in his training. High school corridors and uniforms once baffled him, the mundanity of everyday life more exhilarating and frightening than a battlefield.

You want to smooth his brow and soften his shoulders. He sits like he is holding a breath and you want to draw it out of him. A part of your stirs with arousal at the consideration, thinking how you could do that. You have always found your humanity in that intimate space. But you are both much too injured to try anything heavier than a kiss right now.

This time, you reach across the table and touch his cheek, with no intention but a soft caress. He blinks up at you, the cards forgotten. You do not know what to say. You just touch him.

He cups his hand over yours, holding it to his cheek. He looks at your shoulder and other bruises. It will take you a long time to heal, but nothing is infected. You do not know how his injuries are faring because he will not let anyone look at them. He claims he is fine. You know he is not.

“I love you,” you say. “I swear it gets stronger every day. Is that crazy? Not a day goes by where I am not grateful for you, just as you are.”

He closes his eyes and swallows. He nods.

“I love you too,” he says in a soft, low voice.

When Jisung leaves to get some dinner, Felix proves you wrong about lovemaking. You are too injured for anything vigorous, but he can still lay you down, can still stretch alongside you. He slips his hand beneath your waistband and touches you with long, careful strokes. You unravel in his arms, your sore spots aching but the pain worth the pleasure. You wrap a hand around the back of his neck and tug him down for a kiss. You kiss him until he sighs and rests his forehead to yours.

“Can I please see?” you ask.

He finally acquiesces. His scars are not too bad, more plentiful than painful. He hisses but exhales when you kiss your way across a couple worse marks.

“We’ll find a way to feel better,” you say, grazing your fingertips along his skin. You recall what Jisung said, about how you did not have to deserve love, you just had to accept it. “You don’t need to prove yourself anymore, Felix,” you say. You dance your fingers down his bare chest to his waistband, kissing his shoulder as he sucks in a breath. “Just be with me. Let me love you.”

“Always,” he says, dropping his head back as you touch him. He cups the nape of your neck, squeezing lightly as you flick your wrist and stroke.

You reach the cabin the next day. It is late afternoon when you find the right place, passing a few other cabins before you find a quaint but charming one in the midst of a meadow. The cabin itself does not flaunt much excess, but the meadow is flooded with flowers, a carpet of colour in the late afternoon light that makes it look like a something out of a fairy tale.

The only problem is the smoke in the chimney. The cabin is clearly occupied.

“Is this the right place?” Felix asks. He and Jisung were admiring the meadow while you stared at the cabin, heart palpitating when you realized it was not empty.

“It is,” you say.

“Maybe it’s Hyunjin,” Jisung says.

“It’s not.” You close your eyes. Hyunjin did not say anything about selling the property when you brought it up. But, then again, there was a lot happening in that final exchange. You made him promise he would try to get away if he could, but it might have been an empty platitude. He knew he was going to die. He knew you would never find out anyway.

The distractions of the past week flutter into nothingness as you reckon with the grim reality of the world your father left behind. You hang your head, swallowing hard.

Jisung and Felix stare at you, their faces falling when they realize what you mean.

“How?” Jisung asks.

“My father chased him down,” you say. “He used him. He discarded him. It’s what he does.”

“What he did,” Jisung reminds you. “And maybe Hyunjin got away. We did! That stupid hot weasel was a bitch but he was resourceful as fuck.”

“Jisuuung,” you say, smacking his arm.

“What? I’m not speaking ill of the dead because he’s not dead,” Jisung argues. “And if he was, he wouldn’t want me to suddenly be all fake and nice to him. I annoy him. That’s how I show my love.” He kisses two fingers and waves it at the sky, then flips his middle finger too. You laugh in spite of yourself, shaking your head.

Felix steps behind you and takes your hand. He kisses your cheek. A breeze blows through his hair, his hat in his other hand. The three of you stand in the meadow for a time, looking at the flowers as you contemplate what to do next.

The front door of the cabin opens. You all turn. An apology sits on your tongue, sorry for trespassing on someone else’s property. The sight of you is no doubt disconcerting. Despite showers and meticulous first aid, you all look very rough, three obviously tired and run down people, a little dusty from the road and streaked with dirt from your hike to the cabin.

You look at the person as they stand on the front stoop. Your brow furrows and the apology disintegrates on your tongue, a bemused question poised to take it’s place.

“Minho?” is all you manage.

You have not seen your first teenage crush in many, many years. He looks older but not too different overall. He is still very striking, even in his homey flannel and jeans, standing on the cabin stoop and looking at you with equal confusion.

“Do I know you?” he asks, which makes sense. You might have had a crush on him, but so did half the school. He was a popular guy. He knew Hyunjin but he only met you briefly.

You want to tell him that. You want to say you are friends with Hyunjin but you find it hard to say his name, especially with Minho gazing at you so innocently. Why is he at the cabin? Was he still friends with Hyunjin? He likely does not know he is dead.

You are spared your turmoil when Felix tugs on your arm, a sharp bid for attention. You look at him, bemused, and he nods his head forward. You look past Minho to the open cabin door as another figure steps into view.

All that twisted pain unspools in your chest. You nearly start sobbing in relief.

“Hyunjin!” You ignore the surprised look on Minho’s face and run right past him.

Hyunjin is standing in the doorway, looking wary until he recognizes you. Then his face breaks into a smile and those long limbs jump the porch steps. You trample a few flowers that have grown over the path, meeting in an embrace amidst sprigs of lavender and vibrant hyacinths. It is a very messy embrace, you and Hyunjin both forgetting you are injured. You crash together only to yelp, your shoulder smarting and his bruised chest just as tender. You laugh at each other then hug gently. When your cheek touches his chest, your eyes water.

“Am I dead after all?” you ask thoughtlessly, the beauty of the terrain and the embrace of your friend momentarily making you think so.

Hyunjin laughs and shakes his head. “I thought you were,” he says. “It was all over the news. I thought for sure—”

“I thought for sure you—” You overlap with him, both of you laughing again. “How did you get away?”

“Nothing special,” Hyunjin says. “I was being watched but they were waiting for final orders from your father. Then word got out that he was dead so they just left. I don’t know if they went to investigate or just abandoned post. I didn’t stick around to find out. I packed my things and disappeared the first chance I got.”

“We made a few stops on the journey over,” you say. “I’m not surprised you beat us.”

“I really thought you were—” Hyunjin shakes his head. “And that it was my—”

“It wouldn’t have been your fault anyway,” you say.

“That’s what I told him,” Minho interrupts, his tone quippy but his lips quirked up in a smile. He wiggles his fingers in a wave when you look at him. “So you’re the friend,” he says. “Nice to meet you.”

“I’m the friend’s friend,” Jisung says, skipping into the scene and waving at Hyunjin. “Hey, man. Missed me?”

He is being playful but Hyunjin pulls him into a hug, very obviously surprising Jisung who almost falls right over. Poor Jisung’s face goes red as a rose. You remember his video about having a crush on his high school rival and can’t help but giggle into your palms.

Felix puts a hand on your shoulder, smiling cordially at Minho. “Hi,” he says.

“This is Felix, my—” You look at each other. You lips move as you look for the right word. Bodyguard is not strictly true anymore. Boyfriend and partner sound so very mundane, but you realize that is what you are now. “Boyfriend,” you say, feeling hot with embarrassment for no good reason. You suspect the little things will have you flustered for some time.

“Boyfriend,” Felix repeats, looking quite delighted for a second. You are certain only you see the flicker of sadness that follows. He blinks, his gaze faraway, but he covers it with another smile quickly enough. “Nice to meet you,” he says.

“I guess I’ll have to make a bigger dinner,” Minho says, playfully dry like the idea is a hardship, but smiling a knowing smile at Hyunjin, clearly very happy for him. “Come on then. Get inside already. You’re crushing the tulips.”

The cabin is one floor with a loft. The main bedroom, kitchen and facilities are downstairs, some extra makeshift bedding thrown together in the small sitting area by the fireplace. The upstairs loft is a small second bedroom, sparsely furnished with a mattress and blankets and little else. The ceilings are low but the space is blessedly private. You think it is some of the finest accommodations you have ever stayed in.

You throw yourself on the mattress, curling up with a pillow and blanket. Felix smiles and leans down to kiss the top of your head. When he pulls away, you take his hand, regarding him imploringly.

“Just gonna take a shower,” he says. “Wanna clean up, yeah.”

You nod. Even though you can see he is struggling with something, you let him go. If he is not in the mood to talk, you will wait. A shower will help him feel better.

He takes his bag and climbs back down the ladder. You mean to wait for his return, but you feel such calm at finally reaching your destination. The laughing voices of your friends float up to the loft, putting you even more at ease. You release a breath and lay your head on a pillow. The next thing you know, you are blinking awake. The sky is a purpling pink, the day drawing to a close. You can smell something cooking downstairs. Your friends are still yammering away. Hyunjin’s relentless giggles at Jisung’s goofy jokes makes you smile.

You climb down the ladder and wander into the main room. Felix was not upstairs but he is not with the others either. He must have finished his shower a long time ago now.

“Where’s Felix?” you ask, an edge of panic in your voice.

“He’s just outside,” Minho says from behind the kitchen counter. “He said he just wanted some air.”

“Oh,” you say, feeling a little foolish for panicking without reason. “Right. Thank you.”

“Don’t worry,” Minho says, winking to comfort you. You smile but nonetheless wrap your cardigan tighter around you, feeling a little embarrassed.

Felix has been glued to your side for ten years. Your instinct now panics in his absence, but you realize his absence is a good thing. He does not need to be beside you at all times. He is free to wander if that is what he wants. You are glad he stepped outside for some air, rather than sitting over you.

You step onto the small porch and look across the meadow. You can see a shape sitting among the flowers at the edge of the field, looking down the slope to the park valley below. You cross the flowers, minding where you step. The breeze parts your cardigan and you tug it closed. It is a somewhat clumsy walk overall. Your last few steps are a proper stumble over a rock. You miss it completely, distracted with what you find.

Felix sits with his back to you. You thought he was wearing a hat, but now you can see it is his hair. He dyed it a shock of pitch black and trimmed the edges. It is a messy, jagged cut that you will certainly have to fix later. You suspect he did not spend much time looking in the mirror.

“What’s this?” you ask. “Is this why you wanted to stop at that drug store?”

Felix looks up at you. The dark hair somehow makes his freckles stand out more. He looks different but still very handsome. You think you might be falling in love all over again, a little flushed inside as you sit beside him on the grass.

“Yeah,” he says. He runs his fingers through his hair, glancing up at the dark locks from beneath his lashes. He sighs. “And I don’t know why. I just…”

You put your arm around him, drawing him close to rest his head on your good shoulder. He falls against you, breathing out again. His shoulders droop, losing some of the tension that has plagued him.

“I don’t know what to do now,” he says. “I know this is all good, but I feel like I’ve done something wrong. Like I’m not supposed to be here. And I keep thinking about Chris. How I—” He rubs his face, then chokes tears. “What am I supposed to do with all this life, especially when I couldn’t give him back his?”

He cries properly now and you let him. There is no right thing to say, not that you can think of, so you just hold him until he has expended the worst of his pain through his tears. He takes a few shaking breaths before he sits upright, wiping his face. You rub a circle on his back.

“And you,” he whispers. “It’s like, I feel everything all at once. You call me your boyfriend and I’m happy, then I see you hugging Hyunjin and I think—he knows how to be a person. I don’t know how to be anything.”

“Felix, you know Hyunjin is gay, right?” you ask. You guarded that secret before but seeing as Minho is here at the cabin, you suspect Hyunjin is not keeping it secret anymore.

Felix stutters on a shaking breath, looking momentarily confused.

“Huh? He is?” he asks, then gets a little weepy again, saying, “That’s nice for him.”

“Oh, baby,” you say. You kiss his cheek and snuggle close to him, resting your head on his shoulder. “I don’t know what to say. I’m a mess too. I don’t know how to do any of this right. But I’m pretty sure grieving your friend makes you more of a person, not less.” You look at each other. You touch his cheek and stroke a thumb over his freckles. You think you have them mapped by memory, every last dot. “You’re not alone,” you say. “I want to be with you when things are bad, not just when they’re good. And you and me, we’ve known a lot of bad.”

He laughs, his breath dancing over your lips with your proximity. You smile fondly.

“I think it’s time we feel some good,” you say. “We’ll figure out what that means eventually. Together.”

He draws you close and kisses you, a sweet kiss that deepens. You cuddle when the breeze blows a little harder, the evening chill creeping into the sunset. Still, you do not move, sharing heat between you and sitting among the flowers until the pink has left the sky and a blue evening blurs into the purple wash.

Minho sticks his head out the door to call you in for dinner. You stand first and offer your hand. Felix takes it, then kisses you one more time. You walk back to the cabin, hand in hand.

Warmth wraps around you like a fuzzy blanket when you step inside from the cold. Hyunjin and Jisung are playfully arguing at the table, Minho standing over them and yammering some nonsense back. You and Felix smile at each other before joining them all at the table. After he has served the portions, Minho sits as well.

There is a moment of silence, everyone looking around the table at everyone else. They all looked flushed with warmth and life, Hyunjin smiling and Jisung beaming at you. Felix puts his hand on your knee under the table, squeezing softly. You look at him with another smile, then a laugh, a sound of disbelief that resonates with everyone. You are here, impossibly but truly. You have no idea what happens now.

“I’ll break the ice,” Jisung says. “Because I have a confession, while we’re all here, and Hyunjin has his hot boyfriend cooking us a meal. Hyunjin, my man, I’m sorry for being the dick of all dicks when we were in high school.” Jisung lays a hand on his heart and dramatically makes his confession. Hyunjin’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline as your goofy friend continues, “Turns out having an arch nemesis is super gay. And I was a stupid repressed bisexual who thought furiously staring at you for seven hours a day was a totally normal thing to do. Sorry, man. Congrats on the hot boyfriend, though.”

“I’m not his boyfriend,” Minho says. His elbow is on the table, chin in his hand. He is grinning at Jisung.

“Come again?” Jisung says.

“Not his boyfriend,” Minho says, laughing. “I’m his friend. He was in trouble and asked for my help. I’m a good friend so here I am, helping him get settled. I’m actually married.” He holds up his hand, proudly displaying a wedding band. He giggles some more. “He’s single, though.” He gestures to Hyunjin.

Jisung looks at Hyunjin who has gone very pink in the face. He glances at Jisung and laughs, covering his mouth to try and contain it.

“Oh. Oh. Oh. Yeah. Cool.” Jisung scratches the back of his neck, then his brow, then his chin. He taps the table and nods his head rapidly. “Awesome,” he says. “Well, I’m really glad we clarified that before I made a really ridiculous confession in front of everyone. That would have been super embarrassing for me.”

You all laugh, genuinely as Jisung soaks it in with a silly little grin. The sound of your collective delight fills the cabin before chatter begins again and you start eating.

You glance around the table while taking a bite. Your shoulder aches, and Felix’s bruises are still healing, and you will not be surprised if a nightmare jolts one of you out of sleep tonight. But you will wake beside Felix, you will comfort each other, and you will fall back asleep. You will wake up tomorrow and try it all again.

You know the times ahead will not always be easy. You are ready to make mistakes and try.

It is not a perfect ending, but it is a perfect beginning.

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katsukisbayy · 10 months ago

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off balance - h. iwaizumi x f! reader

h. iwaizumi x f!reader

summary: after one of the university's gymnasts crashes into iwaizumi's life (and his clinic rotation), he can't seem to stop himself from falling for her (and he's not trying to). unfortunately, she doesn't seem all that interested in him.

OR: the first time they meet, iwaizumi accidentally friendzones the gymnast who keeps showing up in his life without realizing it.

tags: h. iwaizumi x f! reader, university au, strangers to friends to lovers, idiots in love and i mean IDIOTS, miscommunication

warnings (will continue to update): mentions of injuries, foul language, ooc characters, a lot of kys/kms jokes, references to murder (joke), oikawa tries to wingman, mild self destructive tendencies (nothing bad yn is just a problem), im writing this in the hospital tripping on steriods sorry, miscommunication

chapters:

introductions: beautiful women + the roommates from hell | volleyball freaks + iwa

chapter one: a normal and uneventful shift at the clinic

chapter two: boom boom shrimp

chapter three: coawrd 𓂃🖊

chapter four: intervention

chapter five: noon am

chapter six: coming soon!

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katsukisbayy · 10 months ago

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( 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐑 ): Release Date: September 10th

──── * ˚ ✦ ECHOES OF US ( stray kids )

❛ After a painful breakup, you and Jeongin struggle to maintain a civil front for your mutual friends, but when he accidentally calls you by your old pet name, unresolved emotions resurface, forcing you both to confront the lingering feelings between you.

𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐣𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧 + gender neutral reader ೯ ( 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 )

𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 10.5k~

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ This is sort of still a work in progress, but really it just means that I have to finish writing the ending of the final draft before finally moving on to proofreading. Since this is my first official long-fic (a story for a single member that's over 10K), I thought it might be fun to announce it now and see who's interested! This was anonymously requested! (Anon, I'm sorry it took me a hot minute to finally finish this, but I hope I made up for it with how long it ended up being 🫠) Reblogs for this teaser are always appreciated! Requests are currently open! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Mentions of sibling death and grief, very brief mention of a dysfunctional home, brief explanation of sibling death, Y/N's sibling has their own name, mentions of being abandoned, heartbreak, awkward re-encounter after almost a year, discussions on mental health, a whole lot of angst, comforting ending.

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ) ( 𝐭𝐢𝐩 𝐣𝐚𝐫 )

Want to be alerted when I post this? Let me know in the comments so I can tag you!

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katsukisbayy · 2 years ago

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god's favourite [mha smau]

a part of me hated all of you

shinsou hitoshi x fem!reader

part six: unfortunately he can't keep the spoon

series masterlist // part five // part seven

main masterlist

taglist @bakugouswh0r3 @bowloficecubes @fallingmoon02 @the-bumble-isnt-beeing @rainbow---shoelaces @darlinval @tati-the-fangirl @mysticore @shadowkitty-me @dancing-hillary @hypernovaxx @marsneo @euphemiaxz @happy-nico @nottherealslimshady

fun fact: I googled the world's most expensive dessert and found a Guinness world record for a Frrrozen (yes that is how they spelt it) Haute Chocolate Ice cream Sundae! here's the link (if anyone is curious) but me personally I wouldn't spend that amount of money on ice cream.

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katsukisbayy · 2 years ago

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Part III

Nymphetamine: marriage of the words nymphomania and amphetamine; an unhealthy, beast-like addiction to one female in particular.

║Part I ║Part II║Masterlist║

↣ pairing: alpha!katuski x omega!reader

↣ word count: 9.5k

↣ notes: final chapter

↣ warnings: a/b/o dynamics, prime dynamics (prime alphas/omegas; stronger, more dangerous variants), enemies to lovers, villain!katsuki, some yandere tones, captivity, corruption, breeding, mention of having babies, heats, ruts, knots, mating, claiming, bonding, possessive actions, clawing, biting, choking, belly-bulges, bruising, blood, too much fucking purring, a lot of praise, some degradation, hair pulling, size difference, creampies and cum galore

↣ summary: As you look at yourself in the mirror, it’s as if you’re staring at a stranger. Same pretty face, same makeup you’ve perfected over the years. But it’s not just you anymore in the reflection. It’s him, your alpha, what he’s made you into, looking right through you.

Katsuki’s been working at you, washing away any and every thought of being a hero. Instead he’s been filling the cracks with him, with ideas of babies, of a future with him and only him, right by his side, open and proud, despite his brutality. Tonight is just the first step, a test to show just how perfect you are on his arm. A hero turned villain, all in the name of love.

Falling in love is a slippery slope. You’re teetering on the edge, though, wondering if you should just jump and let him catch you.

Because what Alpha wants, Alpha gets.

Keep reading

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katsukisbayy · 2 years ago

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devotion | todoroki shouto

synopsis ↬ shouto will do anything for you to join the todoroki bloodline

warnings ↬ BARELY EDITED, arranged marriage, yandere, implied virginity loss, noncon/dubcon? (consent is implied but not said), cheating? (the reader isn't dating but is talking to someone), manipulation, quirk use, dr*gging (aphrodisiac), the reader has a quirk (dual or half-water half-fire), mention of past child abuse, bribery, bride-price (?), you have an ill parent, slow burn with important details in the buildup, mild bakugou slander, orgasm denial, choking, creampie, let me know if I've forgotten something

pairings ↬ yandere!pro-hero!todoroki shouto x f!reader (she/her pronouns used)

word count ↬ 13.4k

Anxious footsteps pace throughout your family's home for the entirety of the day. Nearly every room had been refurbished and decorated with new exquisite objects; vastly different from the usually peaceful and simplistic setting that you were used to. Expensive paintings and unique ornaments are strung along the walls, refining your home while, in the process, making you feel out of place. Various cleaners were brought to help tidy the house while other drastic measures were taken for one 'special' day. Your mother meticulously scrutinized every detail, checking to make sure each nook and cranny was spotless. It took days of countless trial and error for her to feel a sense of security in the newly renovated home. However, while your mother was satisfied with the results, you strongly hated them.

The home you first entered as a newborn and took your first steps into adulthood had been uplifted and changed before your eyes. Of course, your mother wouldn't listen to any of your whining or complaints. Always shutting down your questions or ignoring you when you try to inquire about her strange decisions. By now, you were used to her being dismissive about each of her design choices. When she asked you to assist her in the final preparations, you weren't fazed by her skittish demeanor; she'd been acting like this since the beginning. The whole day was spent cooking and finalizing the decor of your home until your mother could breathe a sigh of relief.

When asking your mother why the preparations were so intricate and time-consuming, as she sliced some vegetables for a stew, she replied:

"The Todoroki Family will be coming over tonight for dinner." She explained her desire to make your home welcoming for them. It had been some years since you had seen the entire family together, specifically the patriarch, Todoroki Enji.

Natsuo and Fuyumi became familiar faces in your family home over the past few months. It was a kind gesture; they would always make sure to stop over and greet your parents after making a brief stop in your town. The eldest brother, Touya, would write you letters despite being detained in Tartarus. After all these years, you had forgotten his face. It wasn't until you saw his arrest on the news a few years ago that you realized how deeply you missed him. Seeing his reappearance made you emotional but after receiving some of his handwritten letters, you felt more at ease although haunted by his actions. Finally, he paid the unfortunate price for his villainous crimes.

The only member of their family you were excited to see was Shoto.

Years have passed since he graduated from U.A. High School and was now working as a pro-hero and sidekick for his father, Endeavor. Patrolling and training seemed to take a toll on his ability to see you. Being an understanding best friend, you decided not to bother him about his busy schedule since it was something he did not have control over. The time he couldn't spend in person was made up with your late-night calls that would continue until the early hours of the morning. Often, you would fall asleep while still on the phone with him and the dulcet sounds of your snoring lulled his tired body to sleep.

He always gave you updates about every detail of his life. From the villains he captured, to some shenanigans with his buddies from high school. Rei, his mother, seemed to adore you the most out of all the family members — besides Shoto, of course. On one of the last moments you spent with him, he invited you to visit his mother at her new apartment after being released from the hospital. Upon seeing you, her whole face brightened as she beamed a smile and embraced you in her arms. Pinching your cheeks and commenting about how much you've grown since she'd last seen you, Rei was ecstatic. It had been many years since you witnessed her smile, and your heart warmed at the loving woman.

Lately, Rei has been scheduling friendly dates with you in an attempt to get to know you better. You felt a bit guilty for not contacting her while she was hospitalized, but she didn't seem to mind. She would always drop subtle hints about Shoto's affections for you; how his eyes would light up whenever she mentioned your name, how he loves to boast about you to others, or when he becomes saddened when thinking about the little time you two have spent together. To anyone, it seemed like she wanted you two to eventually date but you always brushed it off. Thinking it was her being overly friendly or sharing some light banter, you quickly ignored her ideas. The son of the number one hero could have anyone he wanted, why would he settle for you?

After finishing the preparations, your mother waited patiently by the front door. Occasionally checking her wristwatch while fidgeting anxiously, sometimes pacing back and forth throughout the room. There were only a couple minutes left before the time was nine o'clock. As you watched her, you decided to ask her how she was feeling.

"Is everything alright, Mom?" You asked as you sat only a few feet away from her in a nearby chair.

"Yes. I'm just happy to see an old friend again." Yet, as you examined her demeanor, it was quite clear that she was not 'happy'. In fact, she seemed to emit a sense of dread with her strained facial expression. You decided it was best not to question her too much. After wiping her sweaty palms and checking her watch, she ushers you to stand next to her by the door.

Soon, the ringing doorbell brings you out of your thoughts. Your mother exhales a tense sigh before unlocking the door. Your parents' former employer and close friend Endeavor, along with three of his children, greet your mother. She shyly bows and welcomes the family before stepping back to allow them inside. You can't hear some of the words exchanged between her and Enji, a bubbling excitement of seeing Shoto overpowers your senses. You courtly bow to their father who only responds with a few words of acknowledgment. He's dressed surprisingly formal for a friendly meeting, donning a navy blue suit and tie.

Looking back at the preparations, this had to be more than a light-hearted reunion of old friends. As you moved toward his children, your mother announces something to their father.

"Enji, I'd like to discuss something in a separate room." Your mother says, again fidgeting with her sweaty palms.

"Of course." Leading Enji to another room, your mother soon disappears and leaves you with the task of interacting with the siblings.

You try to give Natsuo and Fuyumi casual hugs after they've removed their coats and shoes. Fuyumi peppers your cheeks with sisterly kisses before handing you to Natsuo who eagerly wraps his arms around you and engulfs you in a strong hug. Lifting you off the ground and spinning before placing you on your feet. They soon maneuver to your living room, since they've both practically memorized the layout of your home; knowing the routine of your family like clockwork.

Next, you move to Shoto, failing to see his twitching brows and deadpan expression as he watches his overly affectionate siblings. You give him a big embrace which he eagerly returns. He chuckles to himself as you have to stand on the tips of your toes to hold him properly; he's grown so much since your last visit. "I've missed you so much..." you whisper into his chest. Pulling you tighter and nuzzling his face into the crook of your shoulder, he could feel his warm heart swell with happiness once having you in his arms again — he's missed your hugs.

He pats your head before letting his hand trail down your lower back, "I've missed you too." After whispering in your ear, he pulls you away, wanting to get a look of your beauty after all these years.

Shoto has been your best friend since you two were children. Always training together and even attending the same school for a brief period of time; you two were inseparable. Shortly after Enji became a hero, your parents began working under his agency. In fact, it was his father who proposed the idea of having you two practice with each other, to which your parents happily agreed. Although you're grateful for Enji's suggestion, the pain he caused Shoto was something you could never forgive him.

Vivid memories replay of Shoto being forced to endure brutal training until his poor body couldn't handle the pain anymore. He soon collapsed on the ground, vomiting up whatever bile was left in his stomach. Enji couldn't spare an ounce of compassion for the son he forcibly groomed into a hero, he left the room as if nothing happened. You rushed towards Shoto, cradling the boy in your arms and trying to keep him from going unconscious until aid arrived. Shoto doesn't remember too much from that day, only waking up in your arms after you nursed him back to health; the angel who saved him, what he thinks of you.

Making his cursed life tolerable with your presence. Your existence brought him peace of mind from that day forward. Drunk on a strange blossoming feeling that made his heart ache whenever you were gone. The years had been cruel to him and the sound of your voice could only do so much. Shoto has been thinking about this day, picturing it in his head before he dozes off to sleep.

Your father, one of the first of many sidekicks under his agency, had a fire quirk. One that easily surpassed Endeavor and could compete with Touya's. While your mother had a strong water quirk, although she was not a pro-hero under his agency and instead dealt with the paperwork. After they married, you weren't aware of this, but Enji was strongly encouraged to find someone with a similar quirk to your mother. Inevitably, he settled with Rei, ice that could compliment his fire.

Perhaps it was a competition to him, your father could've exceeded Enji. Having an ice quirk was no match for a water quirk. He must've known that his place as the number two hero could've been taken by your father — or anyone for that matter — and needed to have strong offspring to compete. Although he was overly excited with Shoto's quirk, once learning that you also had a very similar dual quirk, his joy soon dissipated; half-fire and half-water. Enji needed his legacy to live on and he could sense imminent failure for Shoto. Training together allowed him to observe you and mold his son to defeat you in the future, he thought.

Enji's dominant ways became a nuisance and within a few years of training with Shoto, you decided to abandon your hopes of becoming a hero. If it meant witnessing never-ending abuse and torment, you did not want to call yourself a hero. Although you were young, you were aware that no person could think of themselves as a 'hero' while inflicting pain on their family. You couldn't associate yourself with such a bad influence. That was something Shoto admired about you; never tolerating his father and uplifting him when he was weak.

You knew that Enji was trying to rekindle things with his broken family. Yet seeing the two of them act content with each other was shocking to you. Especially after hearing Shoto continuously demean his father on the phone, even on the night before this meeting.

"How is your father doing?" He asks once his arms are completely off of your body.

"Oh, he's been well. His health is improving, he's doing a lot better than before." Although you tried not to show your emotions, it was quite painful for you to talk about your father.

One year ago, your father was left bedridden after a fight with a villain. Ultimately leaving him unable to move and with some injuries that weakened his ability to use his quirk, forcing him into early retirement. Your mother quit her job as a secretary for Enji, claiming that she needed to spend more time at home with your father and take care of him. While you dealt with college, you weren’t able to dedicate time to help him.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to see you often since your father became ill.” Shoto apologizes while hanging his head low in pitiful shame. “I promise I’ll make it up in the future.” You gently caress his arm to reassure him.

“Don’t worry about that too much. Let’s focus on tonight, okay?”

“I suppose…"

Reaching for his hand, you usher him to your living room where Natsuo and Fuyumi have already made themselves comfortable. Walking in the stiff clothes your mother forced you to wear is proven to be quite difficult. The white garment flows past your thighs and stops at your ankles. You nearly trip in the tight shoes, making Shoto reach out and hold you before you embarrassingly fall. Although you've grown accustomed to joining your parents in certain arrangements, you've never worn clothing like this before as they are usually reserved for more special occasions. Pins and accessories poke your scalp uncomfortably. Your hairstyle makes you nauseous; an old-fashioned style that no one your age is still wearing. Of course, you weren't allowed to complain.

After meeting his siblings in the living room, you sit on the end of the sofa with them. Shoto eyes Natsuo, who is relaxing in a seat dangerously close and adjacent to you. His older brother seems to read his scowl perfectly, moving away to allow Shoto to forcibly sit next to you. Time seems to flow fast as the four of you chat about nonsense and random memories. During the whole conversation, Shoto's firm hand mysteriously finds its way to your lower back again — wrapping tighter once he felt Natsuo coming too close.

Before you could question him, your mother appears with Enji. Puffy, bloodshot eyes and a wet face ruin her perfectly done makeup. As you are about to inquire about her appearance, she begins to speak.

"Sorry for the delay. We've prepared some food for you all to enjoy, follow me." She turns towards the direction of the dining room with Enji trailing behind her. The siblings all raise to their feet and soon accompany your mother to the room.

"May I hold your hand?" Shoto, who is still close to you, inquires while peering down at you with a sharp gaze.

"Sure," Nodding before intertwining your figures with Shoto, you watch as he smirks brightly. Soon stepping in front of you and leading you towards the rest of the group.

The large dining room table is covered with different Japanese dishes, most you've never seen your mother make before. You could recall helping her cook some of them and the endless hours it took before you completed everything. While the family took their seat, with Enji sitting in your father's position at the head of the table, you try to choose a seat next to Fuyumi. Until Shoto courteously pulls out a chair beside him and stares at you with full expectation. Not wanting to deny his chivalrous acts, you thank him and sit.

During dinner, his older siblings gleefully engaged in another conversation about old times. Reminiscing over every detail and their plans for the future. Natsuo landed a job as a nurse practitioner only a few weeks ago while Fuyumi shared stories about her students. Enji and your mother were quiet, only interjecting when necessary. Your mother's plate seemed to stay full as time passed, only picking at the food. This was unlike her usual behavior at dinnertime. Shoto was the same, except happily eating and staying content with your presence beside him. Only a couple times would he speak, and his replies were short. You weren't fazed much, he was the type to only speak when spoken to or if he had a lingering thought in his head.

Before your time comes to an end, your mother excuses herself and travels to the kitchen. Lost in laughter, you and Fuyumi giggle as Natsuo recounts a particularly embarrassing moment from Shoto's childhood; you eagerly listened to the story as it was a rare moment that all the siblings spent time together. Only after you begin to relax do you notice a frown spread across Shoto's lips. You were dismissive. It was only playful teasing between brothers, right?

"I'm sorry for being busy." Shoto suddenly says after he's finished his last bite of food.

"It's fine, you don't have to keep apologizing. Look at the bright side, we're making memories now. We can always make more in the future." The future, he thinks. The only future he can think of is the one that always replays in his lovestruck mind. Smiling to himself, you assume he's already beginning to feel better.

Your mother emerges from the kitchen, placing a large plate of cold soba noodles in the center of the table — right in front of Shoto. Despite being full, he eagerly tries the noodles while the rest of his family waits for him to taste them first. After all, how could he reject his favorite dish? You helped your mother prepare the noodles after Fuyumi insisted on teaching you Shoto's favorite dish. She claimed it would be a nice welcome present for him after he was away for so long.

With every bite, his face lights up the more he consumes it. Soon, his siblings gladly take bites of the noodles as well while Enji and your mother watch.

"What do you think, Shoto? (Y/N) made it all by herself." Your mother announces loud enough to catch his attention and makes sure to enunciate her last sentence.

"W- Well, I was only following Fuyumi's instructions. She deserves all the credit." Trying to act humble didn't seem to work on his persistent sister. You could notice your mother making a face at your words.

"Nonsense!" Fuyumi chirps, catching you off-guard. "You're such a wonderful cook and Shoto loves it too. Right, Shoto?" Her head turns to her younger brother who has finished his plate of your noodles already.

"I do. You did a great job, (Y/N)." He nods along with his sister before softly grinning at you. "It tastes perfect,"

"See? He loves it! You made it the way he likes. Just for Shoto..." Behind her glasses, you could see her eyes darken as she finished speaking. Only for her to innocently smile at you before tasting your noodles and exclaiming more praises. "It's so delicious. Try some more, Natsuo!"

"O- Oh... Thank you, Fuyumi," You turn your head towards her younger brother. "And Shoto..."

As the two siblings initiate a conversation with your mother and Enji, you could notice Shoto begin to shift toward you. He reaches for your chopsticks before collecting some of the noodles between them. He calls your name and raises the food to your lips. As you take a bite, you smile up at Shoto who returns your gesture while watching you eat. Once you've finished chewing, he takes a napkin and dabs the corners of your mouth while gazing down lovingly.

The longer your night continued, the more heads grew tired. After dinner ended, Natsuo helped your mother clean and tidy the kitchen while Enji excused himself. Fuyumi followed him to the front door and urged Shoto to come with her; although, he seemed more agitated that he wouldn't have any alone time with you. The time is nearly eleven o'clock, and soon you start to wonder when they would return home. Enji announces that he is leaving for the night after his chauffeur hands Fuyumi, Shoto, and Natsuo small suitcases bags.

As the siblings talk, you grow more and more confused. They didn't seem too bothered by the ticking clock and stayed still as if they had no intention of leaving. Shoto's hand moves from your palm to your lower back; you've grown accustomed to his touchy gesture and you decide to ignore it.

"U- Um... Is your father coming back to take you guys home?" You ask but all the siblings, besides Shoto, stare up at you in a confused manner.

"No, we're staying over tonight. Didn't your mother tell you? It was her idea, she kept insisting." Before Natsuo could reveal too much, Shoto interrupts him.

"Natsuo, you-" He glares up at his older brother while you feel his fingers clench around your skin. The clicking of your mother's heels makes him pause his sentence.

"My apologies for the wait. The rooms are ready, right this way." Your mother motions for them to come with her. As she walks up the staircase, she begins to speak again. "There are two extra rooms. Fuyumi, you will take (Y/N)'s room for the night. Natsuo and Shoto can have the other two rooms."

You tried to fathom her directions, but they didn't make any sense. If there are two extra rooms, why would Fuyumi need yours? Couldn't Natsuo and Shoto share while Fuyumi has the other? Perhaps the brothers want their own space, you didn't mind being with Fuyumi anyways. But as your mother reaches the top of the staircase and opens the door to your room, you realize that you are mistaken.

Although your room maintains the same orientation, all of your personal items are missing. The essential products that you use almost every day are nowhere to be found. Most of your decorations have been removed, leaving the walls bare and empty. Any of your medication, skincare, and some other sentimental belongings are gone. Either changed or disappeared. but they were here when you woke up this morning. Almost as if your room was ransacked while you were busy.

Before you could ask, your mother leads Fuyumi into the room. She sets down her suitcase on the ground before making herself comfortable on your bed. Soon, your mother closes your bedroom door before taking Natsuo to his simple guest room next door. The older brother thanks your mother and locks his door as well.

She ushers Shoto to another spare guest room next to Natsuo. When opening the door to Shoto's room, you notice one unmistakable detail — there's only one bed. Logically, this meant you had to share a room with Fuyumi, right? Your mother wouldn't dare allow you to sleep in one bed with any of the brothers... right?

The room is decorated with a few potted plants, dim lamps, and a small desk area. You're reminded of his dorm room when he attended U.A a few years ago. Except, his futon is replaced with a king-size canopy bed. White and gold sheets cover the mattress while a see-through curtain drapes over the frames. Fluffy silk pillows entice your heavy eyelids.

"Shoto, this will be your room. Wait here and get comfortable, alright?" Shoto seems pleased with the scenery. He nods at your mother before entering and closing the door.

Turning away from your mother, you walk towards your room — or Fuyumi's room.

"Where do you think you're going?" Snapping your head around, you see your mother clenching her fists with an unreadable facial expression, but you could tell that she is angry.

"I'm sharing a room with Fuyumi... aren't I?"

"No." Harshly grabbing your wrists, she leads you to your walk-in wardrobe before shutting the door. You're too dazed to process everything, barely noticing where she has taken you until it's too late.

So, you're not sharing a room with Fuyumi. There was no way you were sharing one with Natsuo or Shoto. Perhaps you would sleep on the couch? Or in your parents' room? Although your father always hated letting you see him in such a weakened state. She forcibly removes your clothing and shoes off of your body and hastily throws them in a pile of clothes that covers the whole room. Your mother isn't usually this disorganized, and her disheveled state warns you that something is wrong. The pestering feeling that you've tried to ignore can no longer remain quiet.

"Where will I be sleeping?" You meekly ask as she finally finds the piece of clothing that she has spent the whole time searching for.

"In Shoto's room." She holds up a long cream-colored, sheer négligée to your body and imagines how the clothing would fit before slipping the thin fabric over your head.

As you stare in the mirror, you can't help but gasp. Thanks to your brassier and panties, most of your 'sensitive' areas are covered but your arms and legs are exposed to the unusually cold air. A state of panic ran through your veins. You were expected to sleep in Shoto's room wearing this. A room with only one bed. The worst possible outcomes began to fill your head, it sounded sick and nonsensical. Although he was your dear friend, you knew that your mother would never agree to do something like this.

"Isn't this a bit too revealing to wear around him?" You were met with an unwavering silence that caused your heart to beat faster in your chest. "Mom... you've been acting strange all day. Please just talk to me. This- This doesn't make any sense... Why are you doing this?"

"Why can't you just cooperate for once and stop asking questions?" A scowl forms across her face, slowly getting annoyed. Your lips press together, you want to trust your mother... but you can't.

As you scan her face through the mirror, you realize that she is hiding more than anger behind her emotions. Tears swell in your eyelids but you aren't sure why. Her actions couldn't soothe your never-ending anxiety. She begins working on your hair, removing the pins stuck between your strands before giving you a simplistic style. After finishing, she lightly sprays some sweet-smelling luxury perfume. Your mother seems nearly done with her odd preparations, you unclench your jaw and start to speak.

"I know you're stressed about something, you can tell me. You're not acting like yourself..." You begin to think she will ignore you again when she checks your attire once more. Until she responds.

"I'm fine. We will be fine. Go spend the night with Shoto, please... Just one night." A brief glance at her and she seems to be pleading with you as you hear the strange tone of her voice. "I will talk to you in the morning."

After looking over your clothes one last time, she forces you out of your underwear and into a lace fabric that leaves you even more anxious. Brewing with embarrassment, you realized that your mother wouldn't offer any comforting words to soothe you. Instead, she checks her wristwatch before furrowing her brows and releases a stressed sigh.

"It's time. Now, go to Shoto's room. Don't run off." She turns her back away from you before motioning you towards the exit. You grab a velvety thick robe and throw it over your shoulders before she could see and leave.

Her hands clasp over her mouth as she holds back pained cries. However, she couldn't stop tears from cascading down her cheeks. Praying to whichever God could hear her for forgiveness. Your mother is deeply sorry, she didn't want this to happen. She hopes you'll be more understanding and forgive her in the morning.

As your feet touch the mahogany flooring, you can’t stop the impending feeling of doom that courses through your veins. Sighing heavily, you contemplate dashing to your room to share it with Fuyumi despite your mother’s warning. Yet, you couldn’t dismiss the idea of his sister knowing why your mother seemed tense. The look Fuyumi gives you during dinner replays in your mind. Perhaps the whole family knew and you were the only one left in the dark. Your hand lingers on the doorknob of Shoto’s room, and you quickly suppress the idea of running away.

Unlocking the door, you tiptoe into the bedroom quietly. At first, you don’t notice him — the bed seemed tidy as if it hadn’t been touched. Gazing around the space, you see Shoto sitting at the small desk while scrolling through his phone. He stops and watches your frame enter the door, eyes widening once he takes in the sight of your attire. His clothes are changed now, a loose white t-shirt and long navy pajama pants.

“Please don’t stare… It’s a bit embarrassing,” Once you finally enter the room, you wrap the robe tighter around your clothes.

“Sorry, my apologies.” Shyly looking elsewhere, he refocuses on his phone again.

You quickly move to the end of the canopy bed, drawing back the sheer curtains before sitting on the plush sheets. Shoto is barely visible through the drapes but his phone light illuminates brightly in the dimly lit room. You were thankful for the fleece robe covering your shoulders and arms, the harsh cold air made goosebumps arise on your skin.

"So... How will we sleep?" Breaking the silence in the room, you ask him after a few minutes pass. Shoto shifts in his chair and the white light from his phone suddenly disappears but is replaced by a lamp.

"Are you nervous about sleeping in the same bed? We've been friends for so long, it won't be a problem for me." He says, you can see his head turn towards you through the curtain.

Normally, you wouldn't care too much about staying in the same room together. He was right, you two were close friends. Yet, as you glance down at your clothing and remember the words of your mother, the tension of the meeting is hard to dismiss.

"I guess I don't mind either but I still feel weird about it," Pausing for a few brief seconds, you release a sigh before continuing. "My mother has been acting strange today. Well, not just today... for the past week." As you speak, Shoto rises from the desk. He moves the curtain out of his path before sitting next to you on the bed. You don't notice his movements until a sharp coldness reaches your skin. "I just feel a bit uneasy, sorry..."

"Don't be," His fingers softly caress your arm, an act you always did to comfort him. "She's probably stressed about seeing my father again."

"I hope..." Your mother did mention being 'happy' about The Todoroki Family visiting. You want to believe his reassurance, but your gut feeling tells you otherwise.

The night seems to fly fast as the two of you talk for a while. Shoto seems more eager to initiate a conversation without worrying about the stress of his nosy siblings. He shares some details about his life after graduating from U.A., most of which you already knew. Immediately after becoming a Pro-Hero, he joined his father's agency and accompanies him on patrol. Most of his free time is spent resting at home during the night, usually when you two would call. On the days he didn't have any work, he would typically visit his mother with Fuyumi and Natsuo.

Various topics are brought up and soon the clock reaches midnight. Shoto seems to have some energy in him, and you decide to continue despite your drowsy eyes. He mentions that he's been feeling lonely because of the mountain of work that has been pushed upon him. Your smile and promises to share your time with him are meaningless to him. He knows, one way or another, you will live up to your words.

"Don't you have someone special in your life?" Your ears perk up as you await his response to the question. Shoto's eyes trail off in the distance as he searches for an answer.

"I do..." He mumbles quietly, initially thinking that you haven't heard him until you happily congratulate him.

"Really? Who is it? Is it someone I know?" Throwing questions at him only made Shoto's smile widen across his lips.

"Don't worry. I'll tell you in the morning," Before you could protest, he speaks again. "And you?"

"Oh... I'm not in a relationship right now." Feeling his heart skip a beat at your response, a weight lifts off of his shoulders... briefly. "But, there is someone that I'm talking to." His amiable demeanor seems to shift as he listens, eyes piercing your frame. "What's wrong..?"

"Nothing... Who is it?"

"You know him, it's Bakugou." Of course Shoto knows who he is. They were once classmates and soon began working at his father's agency together.

"I do, we work together on occasion." His fingers nervously tap against his thigh, trying to release whatever pent-up stress is building in his system. "How long have you been talking to him?"

"Only for a couple weeks. He works at Endeavor's agency, right?" Shoto gives you a small nod to answer your question. "Actually, the first time I met him, I stopped by Musutafu to look for you but he said you were on patrol with your father. We talked for a bit... and got to know each other." A warm heat spread across your face as you felt the temperature of the room begin to rise.

"I see..." Shoto uttered yet a sharp pain in his chest made it difficult for him to speak. He made sure to ask your mother beforehand if you had any other suitors, to which she strongly denied. "Have you two..?

"Have we..?" He peers up at you, hoping that you understood his implication. "Oh, we haven't kissed... or done anything else. I mean I've been too busy with college to be in a relationship." You tried to excuse yourself past the embarrassing situation, but Shoto seemed at ease with your responses.

"I understand. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable." He apologizes as you move to rest your back against a pillow on the bed's headboard.

"It's fine. I don't usually visit too often, just when I'm passing through..." You go on to tell him about the small dates you would arrange with Bakugou during his breaks.

Making him and the other sidekicks bento boxes for lunch, on the same days when Shoto was away. Practically boasting about the trinkets and presents he gifts you, saying that he was reminded of you when buying them. On days when he was free, Bakugou would invite you over to his apartment to cook with him and show some new recipes he was currently trying to perfect.

As Shoto listens to you gushing over his coworker, a spark of anger consumes his entire spirit. Neither Bakugou nor any of the sidekicks he was acquaintances with mentioned you; listening to you ramble about the time you spent with them had shocked him. How did you even manage to befriend Bakugou?

Although his poor temper gradually improved over the years, he wasn't the easiest to approach. This wasn't right, it didn't make any sense. Shoto thought he had done everything to keep a watchful eye over you despite being so far away, only for you to be right under his nose. His temperamental 'friend' wasn't worthy of you, he should be the one in Bakugou's place.

The slow approach he decided to take wasn't successful, someone captured your heart — the place he comfortably resided for many years — and he wouldn't allow himself to be dethroned.

A flicker of flames in the dim room makes your rambling end, you watch as Shoto stares off in the room with his head looking away.

"Are you okay..?" You inquire while watching some of the flames nearly burn through his clothing.

"No, I'm not." His fists clench together before releasing as his body seems to relax briefly.

"What's wrong?"

"Bakugou isn't the type of person you should be dating." Suddenly, his gaze shifts to you with a serious, deadpan expression.

"What do you mean? If you're talking about his anger, it's not an issue. He's been really kind to me."

"No, no... That's not what I mean." Shoto inhales sharply and closes his eyes for a brief moment. "I'm telling you this because you are my closest friend and I deeply care about you," You watch him intently and prepare for his response. "But I've seen other girls at the office with him. Some old classmates, a few sidekicks. He's always flirting with them. Trust me, he brings a new girl over every week."

His entire statement is nothing but lies. The gullible expression on your face tells him that you believed his dishonesty. There was no reason for him to make up stories, you thought. Bakugou isn't 'close' to any of the other sidekicks, at least to his knowledge, Shoto has been the only one he considered a friend. His classmates have visited their agency, but only for work-related business.

Bakugou never mentioned seeing someone, never said your name, or showed you off. So when Shoto heard his name leave your lips, he was obviously shocked. He didn't care too much, Bakugou would never be considered his 'friend' or 'colleague' anymore — it was time for him to be disposed of.

"But... But if that's true, why didn't Moe or the others say anything?" Your features changed from a look of disbelief to pain and denial in a matter of seconds. Shoto truly felt bad, he really did. Yet, he knows you'll feel better in the morning. Call him sadistic, but watching your heartbreak turned him on. He would replace your sadness and bring never-ending joy.

"Knowing the type of person my father is, it's inevitable that his employees would be the same." Perhaps that wasn't valid for the other sidekicks, excluding Shoto.

He was truly elated seeing you become more and more distraught. This was his intention; play with your emotions, leave you fragile and ready to accept him. He didn't mind having to exploit the evil of his father knowing that you disliked Enji as much as he did. Your lips and eyes began to droop, forming a visible frown. Maybe because it was your first petty heartbreak, that's why it felt so bad. You always told yourself that you could overcome meaningless relationships, but the smiles you shared with everyone seemed to hurt the most. It was nothing but a facade and a waste of your time.

"I feel like an idiot..." A few teardrops escaped your eyes and trickled past your cheeks. God, why are you such a crybaby?

His warm side of his body pulls you in closer and embraces you in a smoldering hug. Shoto wasn't exceptionally affectionate, but he hated seeing you cry — especially over other people. He tried to hush your soft sniffles, you were quite pathetic to become emotional over Bakugou since you two weren't even dating. Unless there was something else you didn't share.

"It's okay... It's okay. You don't need someone like him. He wouldn't have treated you right." Your head nuzzles in the crock of your shoulder as the heat from his body washes over you.

As you begin to stop, he peels away from you before gently placing a chaste kiss on your cheek. The salty liquid coats his tongue as you melt into his touch, assuming it was only platonic affection. Of course, it wasn't. The feeling of your skin against his lips sparked something inside of him that he had been waiting patiently for so long. Wanting to be bold and explore further, Shoto trails his light pecks down to the tip of your nose and hovers over your lips. Once you feel him trying to steal a kiss, you push yourself away.

"Sorry, you must be overwhelmed." He removes his arms from your sides, watching as you nod and accept his apology.

The room soon quiets down and the air begins to fill with warmth. Yet, you begin to miss the feeling of his body against yours. Shoto lifts himself off of the bed and disappears to the desk he was originally seated in. You can hear the tapping of plates and metal and soon Shoto appears by your side of the bed. Pushing the curtain away, he reveals a tray of light food in his hands.

"What are these for?" You ask, but he only offers a vague answer.

"In case you become hungry or thirsty. I'll sit by the desk to give you some privacy." He places the tray on your lap before moving back to the desk.

"Oh, thank you."

Shoto takes his phone out of his pocket and begins scrolling aimlessly again. You can see the white light through the sheer drapes, and for a brief second, you wonder what Shoto is busy doing. His fingers dance across the screen, frantically texting his father that he wants Bakugou to be fired by the morning. Speaking of the hothead, your mind runs across him once more. It's still hard to believe Shoto since Bakugou seemed so genuine. Alas, you've only known him for a short time and it is hard to trust someone fully.

You'll talk to Bakugou when you wake up.

While you think about what tomorrow has to offer, you start to feel a strange need to drink. The room starts to fill with immense heat; although half of your body can handle it, thanks to your fire quirk, the other half becomes unbearable. When did it get so hot? The robe on your shoulders starts to feel uncomfortable on your now sticky skin. You remove the clothing from your body, not caring that Shoto would see your lingerie if he was close. For now, you need to cool down. If only he was beside you...

Your eyes peer down at the tray: one glass of water, a cluster of grapes, one pomegranate sliced in half, and a whole apple.

Reaching for the glass, you bring it to your lips and sip all of the liquid. The cup gives you relief from the heat; inside are a few jagged ice cubes. Taking one in your mouth, you finally begin to relax again. When you finish, you place the glass on the tray and scan the contents again. A wave of hunger urges you to eat something, anything, on the plate. You choose the pomegranate, plucking some seeds from the inside before eating them.

Unbeknownst to you, Shoto's eyes have been on your frame since the moment he heard your body shift on the mattress. Smiling to himself once he sees you consume the food he's gifted you. He places his phone down on the desk and rises from his chair.

Before you could finish the fruit, you sense Shoto's presence near the bed. You look up but it's too late, an icy cold grip on your wrist halts your movements. As you stare up at him visibly confused and dazed, he says in a low hushed tone:

"You stole from me, so it's only fair if I take something from you."

"Take something from me? What do you mean..?" You ask, yet he only responds by leaning forward and pressing his lips against yours.

This time, his hand restrains your neck and coaxes you closer to his body — making it difficult to reject him. The familiar flavor of pomegranate coats your taste buds as you feel his tongue slip inside your parted lips. His teeth nip at your flesh until it becomes swollen and a strange metallic sensation mixes on your tongue.

You feel the tray moving on your lap until it's placed elsewhere in the room. Your hands instinctively move to his shoulders as if trying to keep a predator at bay. Shoto's arms envelop your torso, further deepening the kiss until he feels your nerves relax under him. Grazing his tongue across your lips, he soon kneels on an open space in the mattress.

Submitting to his touches, your hands soon trail down to his chest until a hard, rhythmic pulsing of his heartbeat throbs in your palm. The overjoyed hero's body became restless as he felt your contact with his skin; he'd been waiting for this moment for as long as he could remember. To share a kiss with you, his first and he hoped yours as well.

Separating his body with yours, his arms untangled from your body as he placed light kisses along the underside of your jaw to your neck. Ignoring the light hums and soft noises you made from his actions, Shoto's fingers clawed at your flimsy sleepwear that would surely tear off if he wasn't careful. His head nestled atop your shoulder, breathing in your scent and silently cursing your mother for dousing you in nauseating perfume.

"Shoto..." You mewled out weakly as his face presses further against your skin.

"Sorry," He mumbles in a quiet whisper. "I just couldn't hold back anymore..." Sitting in an empty space beside you on the bed, Shoto is reluctant to remove you from his hold as if he is afraid you will flee.

His fingernails stab sharply into the fabric of your clothing and nearly scrape into your flesh. Then, his breathing becomes rigged as he murmurs a few incoherent words. It takes a few minutes for you to understand; the words slipping out of his mouth are endless apologies. Before you could inquire about what was wrong — you weren't angry with his overly affectionate demeanor, only confused — he raises his head, now quiet as his lips tremble as he tries to form some words in his head.

"This isn't the way I wanted it to happen, I was hoping to court you first." You feel a burning sensation on your cheeks, as you peer up at him you notice some flames blazing from the red burn on his eye. Shoto faces you now, however his stare is cast down to your hands which he soon intertwines with his own. "But... I was too late. Now, you're thinking about him, not me... Is there something wrong with me?"

"W- What..? No, Shoto, I think you should calm down." His grip on your hands doesn't falter, instead tightening. A hot tingle from one of his hands engulfs yours, so painful that you're sure it will leave a scar if he doesn't move. "Y- You're hurting me..."

Upon seeing the flash of heat on your hand, he flinches away and begs for your forgiveness. He soothes your pain with his ice and pulls away once you're calm.

"Am I not worthy?" As you try to remind him of his value and deny his acts of low confidence, he stays unfazed. "Then, why haven't you noticed? Do you not think of me the same way?"

"Noticed... what?"

"My love for you, but I suppose you've never felt the same way." It would be a lie for you to claim that you haven't experienced a romantic attraction to him... somehow, you've forgotten after the years passed. "It's my fault, I should've been more direct." He brings your wounded hand to his lips before kissing at the marks. "I've always felt this way since you saved me. We were made for each other, don't you see? I've been gone for too long, perhaps you've just forgotten, right? Let's make up for all our lost time..."

Before you could fully comprehend his words, Shoto's hands move to your shoulders and knead into your muscles; soothing your strained body in order to get you to relax. As some time passes, you begin to slip away into his touch as your head becomes heavy and fills with fog. He releases a pleasing hum, thinking to himself that the profession of his undying love finally swayed your heart — that was not the case. The more you calmed, the further his hands would dip into untouched territory on your body as you succumbed to his caresses.

His knees cage either side of your body as he hovers above you, pressing firmly into cushioning. His warm breath tickles the hairs of your neck, sprouting goosebumps throughout your skin. He stops his hands over your chest to feel your rapidly beating heart; the rhythm nearly matches his own. Whatever ounce of cowardice or fear leaves his tainted spirit. Shoto is certain that now is a perfect time; everything he'd ever wanted was coming true, and the option to retreat is gone. Unfortunately, you are forced to comply with the same sentiments.

Swiftly maneuvering his hands to the hem of your nightwear, Shoto easily peels the fabric off of your body. Coaxing you upwards, he lifts the garment over your arms and head before neatly discarding it elsewhere in the room. His palms tenderly squish the flesh covered by your bra while you instinctively hold onto his wrists. His eyes lovingly glimmer with a look of pure adoration; Shoto takes his time, slowly basking in the feeling of your body in his hands. Your hold on him loosens with every timid touch he gives you.

He leans forward, pressing another breathtaking kiss to silence any protests, which are now nonexistent. The thought of pushing him away is buried by the sense of desperation that emits from his hold and his kiss. His fingers travel behind your back and play with your brassier before unclasping it. Hooking his fingers over your lace panties, both undergarments soon disappear to an unknown location in the room. As you lay bare and exposed to the fluctuating temperatures of the room, he raises himself off the mattress and positions himself behind you with your back resting on his chest.

Stroking your plush thighs, he chuckles after he hears you gasp when his hands graze too close to your opening. His thumb circles around your clit as his other hand travels to your bust and fits perfectly around one, caressing your pebbled skin and teasing your bud. Shoto rests his head perfectly on your shoulder until your cheeks are pressing closely together. You can't see him — too focused on the movement of his arms — but he intently watches your body writhe. Your legs threaten to close once you feel him stroke your hood.

"You know... I've never done something like this before," He barely breathes out as his voice makes a chill run down your spine. There's something in the tone of his voice that sounds abnormal. "You're doing so well..."

Your fingers dig sharply into Shoto's hands, leaving indents in his skin as his thumb meets your sex at an agonizingly slow pace. He seemed to take pleasure in it as you could hear the echo of his soft laughter directly in one of your ears when you became too frustrated.

"Sho... Sho- Can you... faster, please?" Your slurred speech and submissive behavior would have been embarrassing if you were in the right state of mind, but alas that was not the case.

"Hmm? You want me to move faster..?" Upon hearing your hum of approval, he deepens his press against your clit. Partially lifting your hood and exposing your swollen nub to the air. Smiling against your skin, he says, "You're so perfect, just for me... mine."

His middle finger ghosts around your folds, and your core trembles practically begging for him to enter and offer some relief. An immense heat erupts from your body despite none of your quirks being in use. Although Shoto's body is warm, it provides you comfort. There's a need for you to be next to him, to touch him. Your fire quirk is not active, but you feel like you're burning. A small glance around the room and you see no flames erupting from his left side. Your hands raise from his wrists and slide up his arms to push your body closer against him.

Teasing your unnaturally wet slick, Shoto thanks himself for slipping an aphrodisiac inside of the water. Parting your folds with his index and ring fingers, he sinks his middle inside your warm walls soon groaning as they clench around him. "so wet for me, only me. never for anyone else..." He wishes he could feel you tightening on his cock. Unfortunately, you haven't noticed it stiffening behind you. His finger nudges upwards into a gummy section of your walls, eagerly exploring inside.

He leaves kisses and small nips across your nape. Harshly sucking and sinking his teeth into your skin that your mother would surely question you about in the morning. His fingers pump in and out of you; the rhythm is erratic before he nestles in a region of your walls that you seem to enjoy. Stretching you out as much as his thick fingers can, he reaches deeper inside with each thrust. As he grazes across a sensitive area, your feet bury into the duvet.

Trying to swallow your moans proved to be pointless, expletives and slurred mewls of pleasure begin to echo through the walls; a symphony to Shoto's ears but a nuisance to the others inside. One of his hands trails to your exposed breasts. He sharply exhales at the flesh in his palm, tugging on your sensitive bud. Your eyes screw shut when Shoto's thumb rolls across your sensitive clit again, drawing your body nearer to a release. His hand soon moves from your chest to your throat.

Squeezing lightly against your veins until you start to feel dizzy, he pulls you even closer to him and whispers, "call me yours" "say you'll never leave me" "tell me you love me" "say it" "just say it... please". Shoto starts chanting more demands in your ear, hoping in your disoriented state you would listen — even if it was just for tonight. However, he can't perform miracles and his use of power could only take him so far. He released his hold as your lungs began to fill with air again. His fingers move to tightly gasp your chin.

"Sho- Shoto... I..." You stutter before pausing at a sudden pool of warmth rushing to your lower tummy. You want to answer him truthfully, but the new sensation of pleasure on your bottom half overtakes you — or maybe that is what you try to convince yourself.

Feeling your walls begin to spasm, Shoto senses that you're close. A pool of your wetness begins to leak into the duvet and stain the sheets. As your core pulses and contracts around his fingers, you grasp onto his arms. You try to urge him deeper, getting lost in the sensation before you feel him pull away. His finger slips out easily and his thumb disconnects from your clit, denying your climax. A wave of pleasure washes over you as you spasm in his arms even more aroused than before, but it soon fades with his fingers gone.

"Why couldn't you answer?" He surprisingly asks as if the hand locked on your throat gave you any chance to replay. "Do you dislike me that much? Am I so repulsive?" You always knew his esteem was low after he was burned, but you assumed he overcame it. When you try to deny his insecurities, your words are unintelligible with your rapid breathing. He looks away before responding, "Nevermind."

Shoto raises your body and moves from behind you. His demeanor seems agitated, but no less determined than before. He was certain that he would walk out of the room knowing that you adored him the same way he did. It wasn't in his plan to go this far, yet the restless feeling in his chest wouldn't dissipate. You rested backward on the bed, unable to support yourself after sitting up for so long. He peels his clothing from his body revealing his well-toned and sculpted frame from years of hard work.

He kneels on the bed again but this time between your legs. He leans forward until he's eye-level with your pussy after straightening your waist. The first time he's seen your body so perfect and on display for him. Internally, he congratulates himself for saving your climax until now; a taste is better instead, he thinks.

His lips attach to your inner thighs as he kisses and leaves blue and purple marks against your skin. The pads of his fingers massage your flesh, occasionally making it tremble weakly in his palms. Every sensation that touches your body makes you crave Shoto more, you're certain that it is purely from arousal and not romantic emotions. It was obvious to you what he wanted by now.

His hot breath tingles your heat, smirking when he sees your slit spasm. Disappearing between your thighs, you feel him do kitten licks on your pearl before flattening his tongue and doing a long lap at your folds. Unable to hold back his pure excitement, he collects your essence on his wet muscle, so eager for a taste. A sting of your wetness and his saliva connect before breaking as he pulls away. Swirling his tongue on your clit, Shoto darts across your bud a few times before savoring whatever oozes out of you.

Noises inside the room are nothing but pure filth, you pray that no one can hear. His head peaks up to see your expression of pure ecstasy and bliss. When you lock eyes with him, you notice his chin and lips stained with a clear mixture of your juices. Tangling your fingers in his hair, your hand nudges him deeper towards his entrance to chase after a release as heat travels down below your tummy.

He focuses on your bud; sucking at the sex and repeating once he feels your fingers tug and scratch his scalp. Another thick finger soon enters again making your walls contract. As your back arches off the bed and your toes curl around themselves, heat emits from your body; expletives and moans leave your throat. You no longer cared about his family hearing, it was surely too late now.

His hands press your hips further into the mattress, trying to keep your shifting body still. Soon, a gush of your release leaks onto his tongue as he eagerly catches every drop; unwinding and finishing on Shoto's face. His lips glisten with clear sticky liquid as he helps you ride out your orgasm. While you pant and steadily lose your grip on his hair, he presses further into your mound and licks your slick clean.

Shoto pulls away from your lower half while you watch as he raises himself proudly. Peering down at you and grinning to himself, obviously happy that he could make you orgasm. He repositions his hips between your legs, easily parting your tired and numb thighs. You haven't caught a good look at his length but when you glimpse down, you see it. It's so pretty. Perfectly trimmed half-white and half-red hair and it seemed well-groomed for the occasion. Of course, this was all a planned meeting.

When he notices you staring, a pink blush spreads across his cheeks and ears. Shoto doesn't think it's much but you believe otherwise. Unsure what to do with your hands, you rest them over your heart until they are near to your face and chin. His tip glides over your opening, prodding over your hole gently and holding your waist as he starts to sink in.

His cock buries deep inside your cunt, swallowing him whole inch by inch. Cries of pain ring in Shoto's ears as his girth stretches you apart. Your eyes clench shut for a second and when they reopen his face is only a few inches away from yours. His hands hook under both of your legs, pushing them close to your chest while whispering something about how it will feel better this way. His eyes are filled with lust, twinkling before colliding his lips with yours. A taste of your essence still remains on his tongue. Trying to soothe your cries, he muffles them with his passionate kisses.

Slowly, he finally bottoms out of your warm region; only pulling away from your lips when you tighten around him. Your eyes close once again as you try to find subtle acts to suppress the pain. Shoto doesn't seem to approve of this, though.

"Darling, couples should look in the eye when they make love to each other..." Icy fingers wrap around your chin and forcefully tilt your chin until he is the only thing in your view. His eyes glisten with pure adoration while yours are unreadable. Perhaps it was the opposite — fear or disdain.

You aren't sure. Shoto, however, convinces himself that you have the same affections. The euphoric state of pleasure he's in from being with you clouds his mind. Couples? You want to question him but his hold on your jaw is tight and unwavering. It locks your mouth in place until you can lightly mumble one word...

"Shoto..."

He shushes you and nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck as he fills you completely. A deep sensation of pressure along your walls brings you nothing but discomfort. Soon raising his hips, his cock glides out of your slick-covered core as he thrusts gently. Massaging your walls, as his tip rubs along a sensitive spot a small feeling of pleasure comes — lackluster compared to the girth of his cock. It was much bigger than most you've seen or encountered in your life; you haven't seen it, but you're sure it's one of the few things he's inherited from his father.

As you wince in pain, he says, "i'll try and go easy..." It's clear and audible but spoken behind gritted teeth and nearly slurred like he's holding his composure. You needed to be molded perfectly, fitting in his arms like a lost piece of a jigsaw puzzle. Just for him. Just for the first night, at least.

He starts at a gentle, slow pace. Each thrust brings a gradual and deeper feeling of bliss that diminishes your initial discomfort. The grunts and low moans he makes directly in your ear coaxes you into enjoying. For a moment, you forget about your lack of consent to this. You envelop him so perfectly that it's hard for Shoto to hold back as he begins to hasten and deepen his sloppy thrusts inside your pussy. His arms wrap around your body, bringing you closer to him until your chests are pressing directly on each other.

"Squeezin' me so fuckin' tight, princess..." A tone that sounds nothing like the Shoto you know. But then again, he seems so pussy-drunk, you aren't sure anymore.

As his pace becomes more frantic and desperate to release his own essence, you feel a familiar coil in your heart threaten to loosen. Your nails dig and claw at Shoto's back; you miss seeing his elated expression just out of the corner of your eye. You've finally marked him too and claimed him as yours, he thinks. His hips roll against your spot once more, making you moan and utter, "oh- fuck, sho- m' gonna..!"

"Let it out for me, don't hold back" His eyes never leave your face, waiting and watching patiently. "you wanna cum on my cock, don't you?" "jus' mine, only for me..." "you love my cock, you do...'

Nodding and responding with a muffled and pitched hum, "mm..!" You've succumbed to his wishes tonight.

"Say it, you love me..."

"I... I love you, Shoto." Staring up at you with full expectation, there wasn't any possible way for you to avoid him.

Pleased with your response, he returns with newfound vigor. Hungry lust for more is evident with his energetic thrusts; rutting deep and knocking the steel bedframe into the wall. Trailing his hand down to your clit, he massages the swollen bud until your walls flutter around and a warm gush of clear liquid covers his shaft. Panting into his skin, you suck him deeper into your entrance as Shoto savors the feeling and hopes for more.

He doesn't slow down, not even after you've calmed down from your high. Instead gripping your chin and forcing you to stare at him again. His eyes are now glowing differently than before as an eerie smile creeps across his lips. He's so happy to hear you say the words he's been waiting for since the start of the night. You were right before, this isn't the Shoto you know. The one you trained with, the one you spent your entire childhood with. The glimmer in his eyes soon turns dark and lovestruck as if you're the only being of importance.

"You... love me? You do... You do..." He chants more nonsensical words again but you're unable to pay attention with the overstimulation giving you too much pleasure after your high. "You do... Mine. My other half..." His speech nearly matches the rhythm of his thrusts, frantic and needy. Trying to speak does you no good; he can't hear you over his own voice, anyways.

Repeating his words in a sinister fashion as if he's doing some sort of ritual. His giddy voice sounds as if he's excited that you've reciprocated his love, finally. Shoto bites down on your neck until a metallic taste coats his tongue. Grunting loudly before his muscles seize up and his hot breath tickles your neck with his heavy panting. His chest rises and falls rapidly as he paints your walls white and spills his seed deep inside. He stays resting on top of your chest for a couple minutes to make sure nothing leaks out.

"You're always so good to me, (Y/N)... You've always loved me when no one else has." He says through his exhales. "I was a little rough," Finally, he sees the marks and bites scattered across your skin. "I'm sorry, I got desperate but I'm happy you can listen to me now."

As he pulls out, some cum leaks between your folds. He collects it with his finger and pushes it deep inside your heat. Shoto tries showing his finger covered in white essence to you, "look, this means we're united forever... no matter what happens, we'll always be together, won't we? you won't leave me... right?"

Your lack of response makes him brim with anxiety but when he looks at you, he sees how exhausted you are. Your head is tilted to the side as your eyes threaten to close. Soon, your breathing becomes steady and your hold on his body weakens. Shoto moves off of you until he lays to your side, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing your neck as you drift off to sleep.

"I guess it's wearing off... you'll be asleep for a while." He whispers while clinging to your body. "I wanted to talk about the future, our future. But I'll have to wait until the morning..." The soft sounds of your snoring soon echo through the walls. "Good night, my love."

Chirping birds at the crack of dawn. Orange-purple hues paint the sky's blank canvas. Finally, it's morning. You would've seen each of these scenic treasures if you waked up earlier. Instead, as if you didn't have a care in the world, you slept in. Far past the times you usually wake up when dealing with college. Shifting peacefully under the bed's white duvet, your body easily nestled into the soft cushion. You didn't want to wake up, at least not right now. It wasn't until the morning sunshine bled through the curtains and brightened the entire room, you didn't have a choice now.

Your arms felt around the space next to you only to discover that there was nobody there. As you lift your heavy eyelids, you realize that Shoto was missing; only an imprint of his body remained in the sheets. Trying to move only brought severe pains throughout your body: your arms, legs, neck, head, and in between your thighs. You didn't forget the events of the previous night, how could you? Each mark on your body was a reminder of that.

Sitting up in the bed, you tried looking for your phone but it was nowhere to be found. Did you even bring it with you when you stayed in the room with Shoto? You hadn't used it the entire evening. It was left somewhere in your room, but you had not seen it when your mother brought Fuyumi into your room. Perhaps one of them knew its location. You planned on calling Bakugou to ask him about the other 'girls' Shoto said he was messing with but you soon decide to do it later.

A nearby digital clock atop the dresser presents the time; it is nearly eleven in the morning. It was quite unusual for you to sleep so long since you've been waking up early for college. A head-splitting migraine brings you out of your thoughts, compared to last night you finally feel normal again but with pains in your body. Next to the clock is a note and clothing. You walk to the dress and hold the piece of paper to read it closely:

'Please get dressed with these and meet us in the living room.' Written neatly in Shoto's handwriting.

Under the note is a pair of wide-legged pants and a crisply ironed blouse. You get dressed in the clothes provided, not thinking too much about why they are here. You're only grateful that you don't have to wear flimsy lingerie. Before you leave the room, you check yourself in the mirror. You try desperately to cover or conceal any of the bruises left on your body and tidy up your appearance.

When you finally exit, you see Natsuo leaving his room with his belongings, ready to depart. He looks up and sees you, smiling widely before approaching you in a friendly demeanor.

"Good morning, Natsuo." You say, finally acknowledging him. He responds with the same greeting before continuing.

"We missed you during breakfast." Ah, you were sleeping for that long. "Shoto said you were really tired last night when I asked him."

"Yeah... I guess." You try not to do anything awkward but soon your face heats up as your face makes a guilty expression. "So... How did you sleep last night?" He chuckles to himself and seems to turn red.

"I slept fine, but... You and Shoto... Made a little too much noise." As if your morning couldn't get any more embarrassing. Natsuo's eyes shift to exposed marks on your skin.

"I'm so, so sorry..! I didn't mean- We didn't mean to disturb you..!"

"It's fine, really. You two are newlyweds now and it was your first night together, right? You guys really couldn't wait, huh?" Wait... newlyweds? Maybe you misheard, or it was some old-fashioned way of saying you were dating Shoto. You didn't want to think that, but then again, friends don't do things like that and keep the same platonic feels. "It's getting late, everyone is leaving soon." He checks the time on his phone before lifting his things. "The family is waiting for you downstairs. I can walk you to them if you'd like."

You shyly nod, not wanting to seem rude. As you and Natsuo walk down the staircase, you can hear the chatter of people in the living room. You can recognize your mother's voice amongst the sound. Natsuo reveals that Fuyumi is waiting outside, but he thinks it's best if you meet Shoto first. When you reach the end of the stairs, you see your mother, Enji, and Shoto nearby in the living room.

"I have to get going, but I'll see you soon." He smiles brightly at you and waves before heading for the front door.

Turning your head, you see the three of them sitting on the couch. Various papers cover the large coffee table and Enji writes his signature on one of the papers. Shoto is given the pen from him and begins to sign on another free space, just under his father. Other signatures are written on the page. As you approach, your mother notices you and quickly stands. The two men seem alerted by her sudden movements and halt.

Shoto and his father watch as she pulls you out of the room and down the hall, away from everyone.

"Why is Enji here?" You ask your mother, hoping that she doesn't ignore your questions for once. Of course, you're wrong. But this time she reaches out to clasp your hands tightly. You try to move past her and walk back into the living room; something isn't right. She blocks your view.

"Look at me." When you do, you notice her glossy eyes and trembling hands. Her grip is tight but every few seconds it seems to loosen as her lips quiver in a frown. "I'm sorry, I wish I could've told you sooner... I wanted to but your father didn't think it would be a good idea."

"You... You spoke to him? When?" Your father always hated letting you see him in his ill state. He always avoided you, limiting himself to their bedroom and only leaving when you were away. Your mother takes a deep breath and continues.

"That's not important. From now on, you will be living with Shoto and his family..."

"I- I don't understand. Why am I staying with them? I can't... I want to stay with you and Dad." Then, as if the gears in your mind finally start working, you realize. "Is that the reason why you brought them over? You did all this work to the house just to impress them? And then make me live with them?"

You were partially correct. This wasn't to impress the patriarch or any of his older children. This was for the youngest, who demanded everything to be perfect for this day. He chose this design, it was based on the home he prepared for you two to live in. Perhaps Shoto thought it was kind to let you experience your new life for one night rather than to throw you in blind. Remove all of your sentimental value from this measly home until it was unrecognizable, the only thing to conquer next was your parents. The torture from knowing your home was now a reminder of your absence seemed painful enough.

"Yes, it is. Recently, it's been hard for us to manage his medical bills. Nobody here is working, it was getting harder each day and his condition has been worsening for the past few months." If it was money, you could've found a job somewhere. It wouldn't be much but it would have helped.

"But... What does that have to do with me moving?"

"Please, forgive me. Don't be angry, okay? This isn't punishment." She waits for your hesitant nod and speaks again. "Shoto must've heard about your father's illness from someone close. I'm not sure, I've never told anyone. He offered to convince Enji to help financially. They'll cover the hospital bills and transfer your father to a better doctor. Except, for an exchange, your hand in marriage."

The rest of your mother's words seem to fade out of your ears. No, you didn't want to believe it but it all seemed to make sense. She knew, every passing day you spent in this house. She knew, but she never said anything. Instead choosing to ignore you out of fear you would run. She knew last night and chose to keep her mouth shut. That was why she was a hollow shell during dinner last night and her face contorted in disgust and guilt whenever you were alone. You couldn't find any sympathy for her left; at the end of the day, she probably only saw a price tag attached to you.

"You feel betrayed, I know..." She could sense rage emitting off of your body with your silence. Of course, there was no need for this situation to happen. "But I didn't know what to do. I was lost and confused, I only agreed because I thought it was the best thing for our family. You can understand that, right? They aren't bad people, you get along with them well. It's for the best."

"No, I don't understand." You swiftly pull your hands out of your mother's grasp and take a few steps back from the woman. "You could've spoken to me before deciding, but you chose not to. You've already decided that I'm not a member of this family anymore."

You turn your back towards your mother and begin to walk towards the exit. She tries to frantically call your name but you continue.

"I can find the money and I know Dad still has more left from all of his hero work." Your chest tightens before erupting in severe pain, but you decide to ignore it. "I'm not leaving. I'm not signing any papers. I'm not marrying anyone. I'm going outside for some fresh air. When I get back, I need all of them out of our house."

A freezing, numb sensation travels from your feet up to your calves. Your movements are slow before stopping completely, frozen in place. When you look up, you see him. Speaking of the devil. Coming towards you with an agitated expression, nearly freezing your mother who tries to intervene. You try to melt through the ice using your fire but burn part of your clothes. It's too late, anyways.

When you finally free your legs, he stands right in front of you. Your mother flees to a space nearby, too intimidated to confront him.

"Whether you want to come is not up for debate. Your mother has signed on your behalf." He says harshly, an undeniable chill runs up your spine from his presence. "Our family has connections, you do know that. No one will question the validity of your signature. Don't be difficult."

"How do you expect me not to be when you've paid off my own mother?" You say before trying to leave again, nearly slipping on his ice. His hand wraps around your forearm, he uses all of his strength and almost breaks your bone.

"You said it yourself, this isn't your family anymore." Shoto has waited far too long, he won't give up now. "You still love your father, don't you? Of course, you do. Should your dying father suffer because of your selfishness? Or be saved? It's your decision, but this isn't about you."

You look at your mother who silently pleads for you to follow Shoto. Then your mind trails to Enji who is listening to the whole conversation with his eyes shut tight as he wonders how he raised such a brute of a son. His hold softens, allowing you some freedom but you don't move.

"Shoto, you can't force me..." You want to sound firm in your words but they are uttered weakly. "We can find another way, but not like this..."

"I'm not forcing you. As I said this is your decision but if you know what's best, you'll come with me." Shoto's hand is completely removed from your forearm and extends out in a welcoming manner.

You glance around your childhood home that has been uprooted and transformed from top to bottom. You can't recognize it anymore, but there's no need to. This will be the last day you step foot into this house.

Cautiously, your fingers intertwine with Shoto's hand. His lips slyly curl upwards at your foolish decision. In the distance, you hear your mother breathe a sigh of relief.

"That's it, like an obedient daughter..." He turns around and begins instructing your mother about organizing a ceremony in the upcoming weeks. She eagerly runs off to celebrate the news with your father and other family members.

It was sickening to watch her demeanor switch in the span of a few seconds.

"You know," Shoto speaks again, returning his full attention to you. "I was beginning to think you forgot about what you said to me last night." His thumb massages gently into the back of your hand. "About how you loved me... That wasn't a lie, or was it?"

Not knowing how to respond verbally, you shake your head. Shoto softly whispers, "good, good" and kisses your hand. Truthfully, you weren't being dishonest. It was in the heat of the moment and if you were asked now, you wouldn't know what to say.

"You did make a promise to me, to spend more time together. In the end, it worked out perfectly for us." Another tightening hold on your hand sends a shock of pain through your arm. Briefly looking into his eyes and seeing him spiral, it's not Shoto anymore. "Now, we'll spend an eternity together. Til' death do us part..."

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