#(Since the bodyguard had no idea how to safely combat with him) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

infinitum-imaginaerum · 5 years ago

Text

Secrets | Joshua

Joshua | Secrets

Words | 9,180

Notes | Bodyguard!Joshua, mentions of alcohol, mild cursing. Angst/Fluff;

I’m back-ish with a very rough (I think) piece, mildly edited. I’m excited but nervous to be posting here again and I don’t know how often it will be that I will be posting but.... here’s this; my first svt piece in 8 months. This is a repost since... the tagging system on this site... yeah...

The fake smiles and peach Bellinis, the overdone cologne and extravagant attire, the crystal chandeliers and table decorations all brought a sneer to your face when you assumed nobody was paying close enough attention. The solitude didn’t bother you so much, it was nice to not feel like you were being suffocated for at least ten minutes; ten minutes of breathing to yourself was all you ever asked for. Always being tugged this way and that for photo ops got exhausting. The photo ops weren’t even the most taxing part, it was the fake relationship you had to keep up with one of the most prominent up and coming jewelry designer’s son, who you had happily dated at one point.

Big chunky bracelets, rings that looked too heavy for fingers, necklaces layered to the hills, and earrings that may have ripped anyone’s earlobes open was the type of gaudy jewelry you always had to put on display with a disgusting fake smile while your now-ex-boyfriend dripped with confidence, somehow, that made your skin crawl. Being in his direct vicinity all the time to keep up the image of this perfect shining couple for the sake of jewelry promotions quite frankly made your stomach turn, but the perks may have made it worth it—occasionally.

Some of the more elegant jewelry picks, a lump sum of money, some days wiping that egotistical smirk off his face were a few things that made it all worthwhile since you were frequently the one being interviewed at events about the jewelry line while still not being the heir. That boiled his blood in a way that genuinely turned your lips up in an almost unnoticeable smile. The couth you had to sit there in front of him and take all the questions with such grace—you could feel the way his fingers dug into your hip when he sat with you a bit friendly, but it was all for show. The two of you were business partners now, and that’s really all it boiled down to.

But you’d had your run-in with his less than stellar attitudes, at galas and showcases when he lost his temper with you being a show-stealer, and often forcefully kept you around to keep the cameras on him. That’s when you found Joshua. You’d found him and his specific skillset in a newspaper ad—it was unlike you to read the newspaper but you perused the ad section for job listings, animal adoptions, and all kinds of other things when you came across his blurb:

Full or Part Time Bodyguard. Trained in hand to hand and weapons combat, CPR certified, available for any/all events. To Inquire, call Joshua Hong.

While you had entertained the idea of a bodyguard for a while, it never really became a necessity until the business partnership you had was getting a bit more aggressive. There was little you could do to complain, because leaving was always a viable option, albeit they begged you to stay for publicity purposes—they being the family after hearing of your falling out. But Joshua became a harsher reality as the partnership became most hostile.

When you first saw Joshua at a consultation, he was the last type you’d ever suspect. You wouldn’t say he was far from intimidating looking, but he didn’t radiate a whole ass-kicking like you had expected. He was quieter with soft eyes but very professional. He spoke to you matter-of-factly, laying out all your options and drafting contract ideas in case you wanted to go through with hiring him. You figured it couldn’t hurt to have him around, particularly at events where anything could have gone unnoticed in such a large crowd, especially with the way you were treated.

Bringing Joshua to the table for a showcase rocked the boat a bit. It turned into an escalation by your ‘business partner’ about how it was unnecessary to have a bodyguard and that it would only bring suspicions about your relationship, to which you retaliated, “As if you harshly pulling me around isn’t enough.” His parents could do little to object. You had Joshua there with you, or you were out of the deal, which would bring their publicity and the whole story of a budding couple getting into jewelry design together to a screeching halt and they would undoubtedly lose the following and media support they’d gained because of it.

Joshua became even less favorable by the end of the first confrontation between him and the egomaniac. He was demanding you around at a photo-op, even sternly in front of the photographers—most of which by now were suspicious of the condition of your relationship because really how dare he talk to you like that much less in public—and often grabbed you by the arm and placed you exactly where he wanted you when he wanted you to be there. It was in Joshua’s contract to tolerate minor things like that, but he ground his teeth at just the sight but kept his mouth shut for the duration of the shoot. But when it was finally time to go home, he sure gave a piece of his unsolicited mind.

“Next time, how about you try keeping your hands off,” Joshua commented a bit harshly in the direction of the man who quickly became an enemy.

“Joshua,” you pleaded with him as you were packing your things, but your ex had already turned face to chest Joshua up. He ignored you for a moment, knowing you weren’t in any danger because the only danger to you was currently right in his face.

“I’ll put her where I want, when I want,” was the confident reply.

“Actually, you won’t,” Joshua spat back, eye to eye with the slightly shorter male in front of him. “You will keep your hands to yourself.”

“Mister Hong,” you almost barked, his full name flowing from your lips like a command to a soldier, which was in essence what he was. He choked off the growl in his throat as he turned face to return to you while you finished gathering your things, but not without giving the other man—who looked as if that was a battle he’d won instead of a battle he’d just been saved from—a glare that would make his mother pale. You picked up your bag after Joshua helped your jacket on and you left the building.

He did his best to bite his tongue in situations he knew he should just be quiet and wait for your cue or follow the contract to a T. The first gala was an absolute trip—there were hundreds of people, too many asking too many questions, flashing cameras in your face, people crowding left and right and that same smile on your face even he could tell was fake. But he played the part well—he donned a pressed black suit with a lovely fuchsia carnation pinned on his lapel. The only thing that made him out of place was the clear earpiece he had tapped to the microphone in the clip of your hair. If he was too far to see you, he could at least hear you if there was a problem.

It was obvious enough that it deterred people from asking him questions, or even talking to him really, but he wasn’t the only guard on duty so he spent most of his time playing wallflower, lined up with the others as they observed the gala. It was clear that it was strictly forbidden to interact with you under circumstances not outlined in the contract, by direct request of the family of honor. You figured it was fair, as the whole reason you were there was to portray an image and Joshua wasn’t part of it.

Most gala’s he spent gritting his teeth as he stood tall against the wall, watching the way your partner manhandled you just within the boundaries of the contract until it was finally over when he would follow you close out of the venue and take your hand to step you off the curb to let you fall into the passenger’s seat of his car brought around by valet just to get in and grip the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grasp and silently take you home, and be paid out on your doorstep—what soon became the routine.

But the routine changed when you grew a little fonder of Joshua when you lingered to leave when you were no longer in need of his services, when sometimes you sat in the passenger’s seat of his car to just sit and process, or to vent, or to just enjoy being in the company of another without the stress of a business agenda. When you finally talked freely about interests outside of this partnership you had with him. When he walked you to your door and had a little more to say, irrelevant to being paid—things as simple as sleep well, or stay safe, or until next time, things other than thank you for your business. When it seemed as though he was growing fonder of you, too.

And then, the door once cracked opened a bit more when a late conversation turned into a disagreement turned into something else.

You knew he’d been disgruntled with the inability to do anything about the situation, with the way the boundaries were teased and tested and Joshua’s investment in you continued to grow beyond the confines of said contract. It brought on a lot of tension between the two of you, as if there hadn’t been tension on car rides home after parties or showcases or reveals or fundraisers—it didn’t really matter, he took you to and from almost every event.

He was quieter than usual, something you tried to ignore as you tended the bruise against your arm from where you’d been grabbed multiple times throughout the night, mostly minding your own business and exchanged your attention between that and the passing of the city outside the car window. The air conditioning was cool on your skin, soothing on your feet from being pressed in heels all night that you’d slightly kicked off in a bit of relief before he finally broke the silence.

“When are you going to let me give him what’s coming?” Joshua asked you, his tone a little urgent, and startled you a little bit in the deep leather bucket seat of his car. “It’s been five months and time and time again you let him tug you around like a rag-doll and only half the time can I see the discomfort on your face, but a hundred percent of the time I can hear it when you grunt or wince or yelp.”

You sighed heavily—this wasn’t particularly a conversation you wanted to have.

“He’s within the contract,” you replied.

“Any malicious touch should be outside the contract,” he growled.

“Well then it’s a good thing you didn’t write it,” you replied as he pulled up to your place, shutting the car off after throwing it into park to walk you up to your door like he always did. You had a bottom floor apartment, which made slipping your heels back on and stepping out of the car less of a battle since you wouldn’t have to climb any stairs. Even though he was a bit put off with you, he still rounded the car to gently take your hand to pull you up from the seat, double-checking to make sure you had everything, and walked you up to your door.

“I wish I had,” he finally replied as you turned the key in the handle to tumble the look to unlock your door. “I wish I had because he would have stopped testing the both of us months ago.”

“That’s not your call to make,” you replied, grabbing the envelope that sat on the table just inside your doorway which already had a predetermined amount enclosed with his name written in fine script across it the same way that it always did. “I hired you to do a specific job, you agreed to adhere to the contract; if you don’t like the contract, we can discontinue this partnership at any time,” you finished.

Part of you couldn’t decide if he hadn’t heard anything you said, or if he was just taking his time to reply, because his gaze was effectively all over your face, refusing to reach up for the envelope. You could see the look in his eyes that generally meant he was thinking, but what came next you almost couldn’t prepare for.

Both his warm hands cupped your cheeks, tilting your head up towards his just enough for him to gracefully take your lips with his. Your back softly hit the frame of your door as his envelope crumpled in your hand, and you found yourself instinctively leaning up into his mouth while your free hand momentarily cupped the back of his neck before you came to and nudged him away.

“Joshua…” you muttered a tad breathlessly, breaking the kiss. There were a million things that should have been going through your mind at that point, starting with how unprofessional all of this was, continuing with the image you had to maintain and how this whole thing would interfere with that, and finishing with grappling with your feelings that were turning your stomach over like a fish on deck.

One of his hands had slipped away from your face to hold you steady, warm and wide on your hip, but the other continued to tenderly stroke against your cheek while you looked at each other. His envelope was still clutched in your hand against his side, your other hand sliding away from the back of his neck and down his lapel—you could push him away, you should push him away. You wanted to tell him how many problems this would cause, how complicated this just made everything, but somehow all you could think about was the glitter in his eyes, the mint tones of his breath, and the taste of his pomegranate chapstick.

He must have known it wasn’t a good move because he collected the envelope from your hand without much more delay for thought—your door was already open so he didn’t have to wait any longer as he bid you goodnight, reminded you to sleep well, and turned to be on his way. You found his name stuck in the back of your throat, dying to come out, but also dying to stay in. The implications of the situation swirled in your head, and you gave a rickety exhale before finding your feet enough to retreat through your door.

Business continued as usual, Joshua attended with you as usual, but the only difference was that you were getting progressively more infuriated with the way you were being treated as another month passed. The jig had to have been up, the publicity you were gaining from keeping up the relationship lie had to have faded by now, but the numbers didn’t lie. Joshua was still at your side, in the background, observing, wherever he needed to be to ensure his job was done correctly.

You had taken a nasty fall on one of the sets of a photo-op because of an impatient and tugging hand of the typical problem male. Joshua lurched from against the wall as you cursed, the floor hard against your knees, and you stayed on the ground for a moment while your nails clawed against the tile, pushing away the sting. A sweet voice whispered your name, and you knew who it belonged to, along with the hand that was extended in front of you. You stared at it for a moment before sitting up enough to dust your hands against each other, and daintily place one in Joshua’s large and warm one. He slowly lifted you to your feet, wanting to check your knees which were hidden behind a floral maxi-dress.

“Pathetic, can’t even get up on your own,” your ex-boyfriend spat in your direction, and the sigh that left your lips could have been a call from hell itself.

Your gaze turned up slowly, away from the ground, and up to his face like the inferno was ready to take him through the earth’s crust. There was a snarl turning at the corners of your nose, and it was clear as day you’d had it up to your eyeballs. Your hand gripped Joshua’s with all the strength you had, and he could only look at you, waiting for your cue, waiting for you to cut him loose before you brought your free hand up and clapped it against the side of the face of your unruly business partner. It was a sound that rang through the room, and by the sound of the cry that exited just a moment after, you caught him upwards on the jaw and probably snapped his teeth together.

He yelled profanities at you, but the exhaustion of his antics were clear in your eyes. Joshua snarled at him when he attempted to approach, but you almost begged for it.

“Do you want another?” you asked him, a tinge in your voice that startled even Joshua. The blood from your split knee was trickling down your leg at this point, you could feel it go, but your one hand clutched the hand it held unwaveringly.

The way your voice softened when you turned your head to speak to Joshua was like night and day. “My knees are bleeding,” you informed him, feeling them quiver as you continued to stand, bruising imminent. He didn’t hesitate to place your hand against his shoulder to slide around his neck and lift your legs out from under you. Your wicked ex-boyfriend took a step, but Joshua was quick and turned to check.

“Try me,” he growled and waited for an advance that never came before he turned to take you out of the room. One of the photography hands followed the two of you out with a first aid kit but stood aside to let Joshua take care of you. You pulled the dress up past your knees—it was worse than you thought. He requested some water to begin to clean your leg before cleaning the split that was already black and purple and swollen to the hills.

“You must have gone down pretty hard,” he commented, gingerly tending to said wound, but diligently nonetheless to get it cleared away enough to assess. At that point, all you cared about was the bloodstain on the knee of your pretty white dress. The pain was ignorable, your ex was ignorable, Joshua was mostly ignorable, but the pain you felt in your pride from letting him treat you like that which manifested in the stain on your dress was not. You looked at the stain with such disdain as you held it in your hands.

“I’ll get you a new dress,” he muttered after noting the look on your face.

“That’s not the point!” you yelled back harshly. He looked at you calmly, knowing your outburst wasn’t directed at him.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied quietly and turned his gaze back down to bandage your knee, at least well enough to complete the shoot because he knew you weren’t going to leave without finishing it.

And so you did; the blood on your dress could be edited out, so that posed little concern. What did concern you, however, was the attitudes in the room and how they would shift. From then on, every move was checked with Joshua, both your eyes and your ex-boyfriend’s eyes meeting him if he ever even reached for you. Something in the way you’d whole-hand clapped him and the look on Joshua’s face after the fact—he had to have known at that point that he wasn’t ‘safe’ anymore. It was as if he could see that Joshua had been unclipped from the figurative leash.

You finished the shoot with no further altercations but definitely needed help with some of the positions as your knee was unable to bend certain ways anymore, for the time being. When the shoot was finally over, you stayed on the set couch for a lingering moment as Joshua gathered your things and brought them over to you, but not without clipping shoulders with the trouble-maker himself.

He had your duffel over his shoulder, creasing the jacket of his suit but refused to let you take it when he was able to get you on your feet again. You looked up at him with a scowl, almost as if to say that you could carry it yourself, but he gave you a skeptical look, not skeptical that you could carry it but that you were injured and he would just as well carry it for you.

You paid the photography crew your respects before beginning to hobble out of the set and eventually out of the building. Joshua offered you his arm as a crutch multiple times that you refused, stubbornly, until he’d finally had enough.

“Please take my arm, or I’ll carry you out of here,” he almost threatened as a gave a smile to the man at the security desk while you passed him, who gave you a curious look as you limped. You wanted to growl, but begrudgingly took his arm anyway; admittedly, it relieved some pain. He put your duffel in the back seat once finally arriving at the car and then opened the passenger’s door for you. Gingerly you lifted your damaged leg into the car first before all but falling in after it and let him close the door behind you.

As usual, he turned on the air conditioner a bit high—you needed to cool off after every interaction you had with your ex on any business excursion you needed to attend. You kept your rage entirely inside which boiled your blood and made your face hot and the cool air was quite helpful to bring it all back. Joshua delayed in starting the car for a moment as he looked over to you to make sure you were okay, but you ignored the pain in your knee and looked out the window, waiting for the car to start moving. He sighed, noting the bloodstains on the knee of your dress before finally bringing the car to life to take you home. It was already late into the afternoon, and he knew you’d want time to prepare dinner and shower and other things to relax for the evening, so he didn’t waste any more time.

He took you and your bag up to your front door the way he normally did, only this time with one of your hands wrapped around his arm to steady yourself as you hobbled slowly with your heels in your other hand before you were digging for your keys. Once your door opened, you threw your shoes in and took the duffel bag from him to toss that inside the doorway as well and reached for his envelope on the table, and turned back to him.

Joshua stood tall and respectfully the way he always did, alert with his shoulders square, hands clasps behind his back. Somehow his hair was always immaculate, his suit always pressed with zero hints of wrinkles, too professional; but his eyes looked at you softly, eyes you were looking into deeper and deeper every time you got the chance, eyes that captivated you like nothing else. You clutched the envelope in both your hands, a thought stirring in the back of your throat as you looked up at him.

“Joshua…” you started, trying to get the thought out as the envelope crumpled in your fingers.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied respectfully, only for you to remind him of your name even though you knew he hadn’t forgotten.

“I don’t pay you for this…” you started, crumpling the envelope a little more as you looked down at it, “but I would, if you wanted; I just don’t have any near family and I don’t want to be alone after all that and—”

“I’ll stay, for a bit, if that’s what you need. I’m here to serve you,” he replied, the tenseness in his shoulders dropping a little bit as his hands came forward to cup over yours, stopping you from nervously crinkling his envelope, “And don’t worry about compensating me.”

You weren’t sure how to reply as he finessed the envelope from your hands, setting it back down on the table you always retrieved it from as he walked you slowly back through the doorway of your apartment and kicked his shoes by the door. “Do you mind if I take my coat off?” he asked you, and you were a bit taken aback by the question—he was always dressed professionally, and this was the first time he would be taking his jacket off in front of you. All you could do was nod as you peeled yours off, too, a sweet dark washed cropped jean jacket.

At some point you remember getting him a glass of water, you remember excusing yourself to change so that you could spot treat your dress and assess the damage on your knee yourself as Joshua made himself at home on your couch. It was the first time Joshua would see you in more casual clothes instead of dolled up for some event, but it was fair because you were seeing him cut a little loose too. You remember flipping on the TV to drown out the somewhat awkward silence that loomed between the two of you for a bit, before agreeing on what to order for food. It was still a bit early for dinner, so some mindless TV was in order for a little bit. A part of Joshua had expected something else; maybe some feelings dumping or something similar, but he didn’t mind the fact that you just wanted to relish his company.

That didn’t stop him from consistently looking at you, consistently noting the way your eyes would get a bit glassy before being controlled—you refused to cry in front of him. He wasn’t there to comfort you, that wasn’t his job, and you didn’t want to make it seem like it was. But when you could feel him looking at the side of your face a little too hard, you turned to look at him with the intention of asking if he wanted to order food, but ended up getting trapped in his eyes again.

You could feel your breath hitch in your throat, meeting his gaze, but he didn’t seem surprised. His eyebrows rose for a split second, hardly even noticed as he looked back at you—your eyes were still a bit glassy from the forced back tears. He wouldn’t dare ask you to speak, much less speak about what was on your mind; he had unclear instructions of what he was there for, but it took everything in him to just sit there and say nothing, do nothing.

He took a leap, and reached over to retrieve your hand closest to him, which happened to be your left hand, and cupped it in both of his.

“I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re going through; I can’t even begin to imagine how hard and taxing it is, how unbreakable your resolve has been, how strong you have been, but I know that you are. I know that you are gracious and kind and patient. I know that you are so much than I get to see, so much more than anything he’d ever deserve.”

It was meant to be comforting, to be encouraging, and it was. Somehow, your fingers threaded between his and squeezed, trying to stave the tears that he had inadvertently pushed up to your waterline, and to avoid having him see them fall, you finally turned your face away from his.

“I’m going to order dinner, what would you like?” you asked, voice cracking a little as you quickly stood from the couch to the dismay of your injured knee as your hand left his. You quickly made your way to the kitchen, grabbing a paper towel to dab under your eyes, trying to save the makeup you had left. Vaguely, you heard him say something about getting whatever—he would eat whatever you ordered for him—and pulled out the small book of menus from nearby places.

Joshua sat on the couch, the lack of your hand between his somehow more intense when he knew you needed some comfort as he listened to you flip through some pages and eventually dial a number to place an order. He didn’t expect you to return immediately, or even within a reasonable amount of time, which was good because you didn’t. You continued to stand in the kitchen and grip the counter, pushing your tears back and back and back while trying not to agitate your leg too much; the burn was real from your rush to get up, so you stood on the leg that was still good and bent the other to give it a rest.

Eventually, he was going to have to check on you. He spent plenty of time glancing over to the kitchen to see if you were emerging yet, but it didn’t happen to be the case, so before too long he pushed himself up from the couch as he quietly cooed your name. You had just been rounding the corner out of the kitchen and he’d caught you by surprise, causing you to stumble over your own feet and crash right into him. His anticipatory hands were able to catch you, for the most part, one able to catch your elbow while the other controlled your fall into his body. Your hands were a little more unceremonious, one furling in the fabric of his white dress shirt and the other grabbing onto his bicep while you crash-landed into his chest, staggering him a bit.

It was the first time you were really getting a lungful of his fragrance, swirling around you like phantom chains. The first time you were really feeling the solidity of his body and how protective it was capable of being. The first time you were really feeling the largeness of his hands as he steadied your balance by hulling you up against him to set you fully back on your own feet, the second time his wide palm was placed against your hip, which brought back many memories of the first time just outside your front door. He could have been able to hear the way you swallowed, looking right at his throat, adorned with a perfectly knotted tie and a finely pressed shirt collar.

And for a moment, you stood there with complete silence looming between the two of you while your hands found a more comfortable place to rest which happened to be right on the curve of his chest while the other continued to hold his bicep. It was always hard to see under his immaculate jackets, but now that it was just his dress shirt and an undershirt, you could see the way your hands curved against him.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he finally spoke, throat shifting particularly with how low he was trying to keep his voice, his bicep flexing under your hand as his hands slid a little further around you.

“Thank you for catching me,” you replied, “so I didn’t have to fall in front of you, again.”

For some reason, that hit him painfully. He couldn’t decide if it was because he felt guilty for making you feel embarrassed about what had happened in front of him, or because he felt guilty for not being able to prevent it in the first place. Although it felt like a sting, he was fully aware that you were making no effort to move from his grasp which was still settled somewhat around your waist until you had decided it was long enough and shuffled out of his grasp.

Joshua never dared pry about what was on your mind, even as he continued to watch you push tears away. At one point, you did close the gap between the two of you on the couch and sat with him, hip to hip, at least until your food arrived. You ate quietly, really just relishing each other’s presence outside of business hours, and sometimes caught him looking at you a little too long which he would dismiss with a soft smile. But dinner was quick, and you were cleaning up almost as soon as you sat down, it felt. And the sooner you were done with dinner, you feared, the sooner he would leave and that just wasn’t a thought you were ready to deal with yet. You had been grappling with saying something, giving him anything about what was going on with you—he already had a pretty good idea and made that very apparent, but you got nervous and pulled away.

You cleaned up in the kitchen quickly and grabbed Joshua’s empty glass to refresh it after he insisted the water was perfectly fine, before joining him on the couch again. This time you’d switched over the TV to just play music which was also perfectly fine because it seemed to ease the tension that was bubbling between the two of you.

“You know, I know we’re not that close, and I know you hired me, but if there’s anything you want to say, or if there’s anything you want me to do—”

“Does that anything include hauling a body away?” you joked, trying to lighten the mood since it had been a little dark since you first invited him in. He seemed to find amusement in your joke because he chuckled.

“I just want you to feel comfortable with me, like you don’t have to tiptoe around me or like you can’t experience emotions in front of me—I couldn’t even detect a semblance of pain on your face earlier although I know it hurt,” he reminded you.

“I do feel comfortable with you,” you replied, driving the point home by subconsciously leaning over to cozy up to him, resting your head against his shoulder as you were already sitting hip to him. He seemed a bit shocked, jarring for only a moment before relaxing into the way you pressed against him. “If I didn’t, I would have gotten rid of you a long time ago.”

“Ouch, so expendable,” he jested, resisting settling an arm around your shoulder. He knew from the last time that there were lines that shouldn’t be crossed, even if you were crossing one right now. It was on you what to do, but he couldn’t just take a moment of physical contact as the go-ahead, especially as you pulled away.

“You’re off the clock; you don’t have to be so alert,” you finally added.

“It’s in my nature,” he replied quietly, his gaze casting from your lap and back up to your face. “I can’t help wanting to jump to your defense, even from the threat that’s in your head.”

“At least that tells me that you take your job very seriously,” you replied just as quietly, your voice fading off a bit at the end as his face neared yours a bit more.

“You asked me to come in because you didn’t want to be alone; I think that warrants attention,” he answered. He had a point, but somewhere in the feeling of his warm breath against your cheeks, that point was lost. You knew what was coming, but somehow didn’t have the mind to stop it, or the want to stop it from happening. Your fingers furled into the upholstery of your couch as he came into your space.

“Joshu—” you tried, but the tender way his lips touched against yours cut that off. There was a familiar touch of his fingertips against the cut of your jaw while his mouth gently slanted against yours. The sigh that exhaled through his nose was exacerbated as one of your somewhat panicked hands took a grip of his tie and tugged, encouraging him to tilt your jaw to his will as he readjusted the kiss.

He broke the kiss for a moment to gauge you, a little too in the moment to remember the first time this happened and what a mistake it was; somewhere in the back of his mind he knew the implications, he knew the conditions of your contract with the jewelry gig, he knew the media was keeping watch on your fake relationship, and he knew how much this was forbidden, but that only made him want it more. And you must have felt somewhat the same, because you leaned in to tease his bottom lip with your teeth, feeling the exhilaration of the fleeting freedom from that fake relationship against Joshua’s lips; the way the stress of all of that melted away at the taste of that familiar pomegranate chapstick. His breath was warm against your mouth, anticipating your next move but you made it clear you were waiting for him as you hesitated while his lip slipped from the gentle grip of your teeth and, tentatively, he took your bottom lip to swipe his tongue against it to delve into another forbidden lip lock.

Breathless, you gave a deep exhale against his mouth as you’d finally come to your senses. Somewhere in your subconscious, you knew the two of you were dancing around this chemistry because you knew it would have to be a secret. You’d had all the forethought in the world after the last time about any time you could catch him away from the crowd how badly you wanted to take the lapel of his coat in your hands and melt into him. The last thing you needed was for rumors to start going around about you and him, but in this very moment, as your lips trailed away from his to kiss against the line of his jaw, you seemed to care not. And you knew you would have continued to kiss down his neck the way you’d thought about more times than you’d like to admit out loud if you didn’t know better. But the way his breath hit the air and the way his head tilted back just a bit just begged for a little more.

“Joshua,” you whispered against the slender column of his neck, or what you could reach that wasn’t covered by his completely buttoned shirt as your lips slid up to his ear, “If you don’t knock it off, next time I might not stop.”

A shiver shot down his spine at just the implications of your words. He knew it was wrong, he knew it was complicated, but now he knew that you felt the same way he did, that you knew he just couldn’t help it. His breath hit the air in a huff, a semblance of a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips but it faded just as quickly as his head came back down to meet gaze with you.

“Maybe I don’t want you to,” he replied, the glimmer in his eyes like the entire galaxy condensed. You agreed on the conditions of your current situation from a simple look, but you could also tell in each other’s eyes how much that didn’t matter. All that mattered was not getting caught. All that mattered was that it was a secret. Even still, something ate at you about the riskiness.

You stood from the couch for the sole purpose of creating some distance before you completely lost your resolve, although it was still breaking the more you looked at his eyes, the features of his face, the curves and sharpness of his jaw, and his mouth which you were already so acquainted with.

It would be tough, but you knew already quitting Joshua would be harder already, so you both vowed to keep it as down low as possible, and that meant entirely in the ground in public of any kind.

That meant you attended galas and fundraisers with even more disinterest than you had before, and the tugging persisted but now you were being bombarded with questions about your fake relationship—you did your best to remain quiet and let the star of the show answer. You continued to work on designing pieces in the comfort of your apartment and develop them into fine pieces of jewelry and you were still raking in design rights left and right from a company you wanted to break from entirely. It was slowly becoming apparent that no matter what happened between you and Joshua, that company would owe you royalties for your designs, and undoubtedly would ask you to continue designing since you were the top contributor much to your partner’s dismay.

To do your best to avoid suspicion, Joshua often stayed behind at times he would have typically accompanied you. He spent more time playing wallflower than he was used to, especially as you were being bombarded left and right by people who wanted nothing more than your attention than to pick your brain about your designs, but despite the new dynamic of his investment, he was still your bodyguard. And the more he got invested, the more he hated seeing you put in that fake smile in the arms of a man he already detested; but he vowed to keep his word, and keep his word he did.

Some galas, you just couldn’t take it. Joshua always had a watchful eye on you when you were seated even while Mr. Self-Important was wandering about and entertaining guests, trying to butter them up for a sale or investment of some kind. Occasionally, you’d meet eyes with him before finding your way to your feet and began to weave through the crowd. It wasn’t unusual for him to follow you, as it was agreed he would be keeping eyes on you at all costs. You made your way through many hot bodies crammed in a too-small room as he tried to keep track of your head bobbing through the crowd before making it into a back room. Still, he followed the sound of your heels against the ornate tile. He followed you quite some time before leading him onto the balcony of a backroom you doubted anyone would be finding even if they were adventuring on their own.

“What do you think you’re doing, taking off like that?” he asked you a little roughly, trying to figure out exactly what was going through your mind to just get up and storm off as if that wouldn’t gather some attention.

“I can’t take it anymore,” you replied desperately, looking back at him as you exhaled sharply. The look in your eyes was enough, an inextinguishable fire burned in your very soul. He almost melted under that gaze, daring to shuffle towards you. You let the fresh air wash against the skin exposed by your evening gown—it was refreshing, to say the least; but the way Joshua was looking back at you made it hard to distinguish the cool air from the fire in your veins.

You begged to step passed him and return to the gala—being out here with him alone spelled bad news for the secrecy of your intermingling lives because you could tell the more that you looked at him, the more you couldn’t stop the way your gaze flittered down to his lips for only a moment before trying to recompose yourself. But you went to step anyway, not quick enough for his wide hands which strongly took your hips and backed you up against the railing of the balcony.

“Is that why you lead me out here? You had to have known I would follow you,” he asked, a ghost of a whisper in the slight breeze as he leaned down to capture your gaze again, bringing your eyes up to his and you could feel your breath caught in your throat, hands anticipatorily on his forearms through his suit coat.

You wanted to protest, you wanted to tell him this couldn’t happen—not here, not now. The way he continued to step closer to you made the lump bigger and bigger, making it even more difficult to get words out before he was leaned in too close, and only then were you able to squeak anything out.

“It’s dangerous,” you muttered against his mouth, the familiar taste of his pomegranate chapstick and the plush warmth of his lips against yours broke any semblance of control and your hands ruffled through the hair on the back of his head. It was feverish at first, as if you’d been deprived of him for so long before the actuality of his lips against yours, of his hands on your body tugging you into him finally set in and you calmed down; as did your hands which combed his hair back into place before sitting daintily across his broad shoulders until he broke the kiss off, hypocritically trying to remind you that you were still in public but it didn’t stop the way he placed gentle kisses against your forehead as you leaned into him.

His scent, which you had grown so accustomed to, seemed to be amplified in the quiet wind as you took a deep breath through your nose while his forehead found yours—your eyes remained closed, and it was the most serene moment you’d experienced at a gala to that day. Everything felt at ease, everything felt simple, everything felt right.

But in the following days, a different kind of panic was settling into you when your boss’s son showed up on your doorstep with the front page of a magazine with a photo of you and Joshua out on that balcony that night. He was red in the face, demanding an explanation from you about how you could be so careless, essentially informing you that he had already had ideas about you and Joshua but trusted that you wouldn’t blow the work you had going. The thought of being caught had crossed your mind on so many occasions, but late-night talks after late-night talk when he stayed over to calm your nerves, to rub your shoulders and shower you with kisses, you concluded—what were they going to do? What did you care about that fake relationship? What did you care about the publicity of a company you had no investment in other than design rights? Regardless of popularity, you would continue to get royalties from every sale of your designs.

“This is simply absurd; this is the last thing I had anticipated waking up to. This ruins so many things, in fact, it ruins everything! All the publicity we had going for this startup, you so selfishly ruined!” he screamed at you while you stood in the doorway of your apartment. For a moment, you didn’t care. He had screamed at you many times in the past, so you looked at him unfazed.

“I’m sorry, I’m the selfish one? I’m the one who demanded we keep up a fake relationship for a publicity stunt to… what… keep the jewelry line directly in the media at all times? I’m the selfish one?”

“You have gotten every last bit out of my family and this business and then you go and blow it, getting caught like a fool!”

Your knuckles were turning white with the way you were gripping them under your crossed arms as you looked at him. Your blood was boiling.

“I worked my ass off to provide your family with very successful designs for their line! Remind me again who’s the selfish one!” you spat back in his face, the burn on your tongue feeling like actual flames with how irate you were at this point. “And remind me, what have you done, at all? Have you made any contributions to this business other than providing the media a pretty face to look at?”

He pushed his hand against the door of your apartment and stepped towards you, enough for you to take a few steps back and unfold your arms in the case you had to defend yourself. And you would have, but the rumble behind you that was deep enough, menacing enough to open a rift in the earth’s crust came from behind you.

“Get out,” Joshua threatened, having been standing just behind the door to listen to the exchange. He wanted you to give you your space to deal with it on your own—you deserved to deal with it on your own; it was your position, your designs, your royalties, your contributions to defend. He was there, however, to defend your being.

“You! You are at least half the—”

“Get out!” Joshua repeated, taking a step forward before ripping the magazine from shaking fingers. “I don’t think I have to tell you again. Your little charade is done, and the only one who will suffer is you and you alone. Now get out, or I’ll escort you out.”

“You’ll be hearing from my lawyer about this—”

“I don’t think that’s the route you want to go,” you interjected. “I own those designs; I am owed royalties on every sale of those designs; whether you like it or not, I have a legal cut of this company which is not contingent on how successful our media façade is. So, if I’ll be hearing from your lawyer about Joshua who has a legal and contracted right to remove you from my property, then you’ll be hearing from mine, who will bury you.”

There was a shakiness in your voice, indistinguishable between anger and nerves, as Joshua escorted him out of your home and slammed the door behind him. You stood just beyond the entryway, safe distance within your house to avoid any conflict, but your shoulders heaved. You could hear the heavy deadbolt flip, locking the door tight before Joshua turned around to face you. He gave you some space for just a moment, but he wasn’t too keen on leaving you standing there looking like the very life had been sucked from your bones for too long.

“It’s over,” he cooed to you, “you don’t have to hide anymore.”

Your gaze crossed the flooring to his feet and ran up his legs, up his body to his face. His mouth housed a tender smile, eyes soft as he looked over you, and somewhere deep in there he could see the relief, the surfacing of tension to let it all go, and for a fleeting moment, you granted him a soft smile as well before he wistfully crossed the floor to take you against his chest.

“I’m proud of the way you stood your ground. You’ll never have to stand it alone again.”

It seemed like a slightly inclined battle for the first month or so. You did hear from his lawyer, and he heard from yours, and it was a winning battle in court to discuss your role within the business. You came to an agreement to keep a position, much to the dismay of your now ex-business partner, and continue working on designs with minimal pressure, and that, the final marker of the decisions, was the nail in the coffin for all the tension to finally free from your body. You stood in a mostly empty courtroom in a fine skirt-suit as you awaited the verdict—you were too relieved to cry, but Joshua’s hand squeezing yours almost elicited those tears.

It wasn’t long before you moved in together to settle down.

You spent long nights sometimes in the studio working on big sketchbooks loosely doodling designs across the entire page. A lone lamp that illuminated a desk behind your easel was hardly enough to sustain healthy eyesight, but it never seemed to stop you especially when you were struggling to push sleep away from those eyes. Often, Joshua slipped out of bed to come find you, well into some hours after he’d retired for the night just to sneak into the studio behind you.

He watched the way your hand effortlessly moved across the page, flicking lines down on the paper to craft those rough sketches he knew would eventually turn into fine pieces of jewelry. You had a knack for it, serious vision for jewelry only the elite could afford.

“It’s not light enough in here for your eyes,” he whispered to you, rubbing his hands along your shoulders and upper arms before he’d dig his thumbs in.

“You tell me that every time,” you reminded him quietly, eyes closing to relish the way he pushed some knots away from your shoulders.

His chuckle was smooth in your ears, dripping down your spine like refined syrup before he pulled up a stool behind you and nestle his arms around your waist, leaving you free enough to continue to work on some sketches, but not without some attempts at wooing you to leave them.

“Come to bed with me,” he whispered just behind your ear, only to place a couple of kisses against your neck and nuzzle against your jaw.

“Five more minutes,” you replied, only to feel his arms tighten around you.

“I fell for that too many times; I’m not so naïve anymore,” he reminded you. “They’ll be here for you another day.”

“And so will you,” you answered.

“Ouch, so expendable,” he teased, knowing that you were teasing, too.

“Joshua,” you whined as he kissed down your neck and across your shoulder, only lightly clothed by a loose-fitting tee that was slouching off to the side anyway. But he wouldn’t stop. Especially not as he got up to flick the lamp off, the only light remaining for vision was the hallway light outside the door, which was enough for him to scoop you from your stool to bring both your legs up around his waist and your arms to dangle over his shoulders. He could feel the sleepiness in your body, but your stubbornness persisted as you protested some more. He carried you from the small studio room and down the hallway to flick the light off with his elbow before he was gently laying you in the cool sheets of the bed you shared with him, sealing off any further words with a couple of sweet kisses against your unsuspecting lips.

Despite all your hawing a few moments prior, the soothing sheets underneath you coupled with the warm body that was settling in next to you settled you quite a bit when he turned you into him and you settled into his shoulder, the same way you did every night.

#joshua hong #seventeen joshua #joshua scenarios #joshua fluff #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #joshua angst #seventeen angst #joshua imagines #seventeen imagines #joshua oneshot #seventeen oneshot

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years ago

Note

For mermay, could you do 11 for sternclay? sfw please :) I love your prompt fills!

Thank you so much! Here you go. The prompt was “royalty” and I based Barclay on a basking shark and Joseph on a mimic octopus.

For the last two weeks, Joseph has been hearing what a difficult assignment he’s taken, and how most bodyguards wouldn’t take it even with the handsome pay. That the princes of Sylvain are impossible to guard, that they’ve gone through more security staff than sharks go through teeth (this part he knows to be true from the records he’s found).

Two days in, he’s starting to wonder if there’s been some sort of mistake.

Now, had he received Duck’s assignment, he’d understand the warnings. Prince Indrid, seer to the court of Sylvain, has already shown himself to be a strange mixture of aloof, demanding, and spoiled.

But Prince Barclay?

When Joseph was shown into his chambers and introduced, the instant the servants left Barclay swam over to him with a nervous smile. He asked if there was anything he could get him, was he hungry, would he like something to drink? Joseph accepted that last offer, curious to see how the prince would react if called upon to perform hospitality rather than simply offer it.

What happened was Barclay swam into an anteroom and came back with a carved coral platter with mother of pearl pitcher and goblets, pouring Joseph’s first before taking a glass for himself.

That set the tone for his behavior, and it hasn’t changed in the week since he’s arrived. The prince, charcoal tailed and a little shy, seems to view Joseph as just another mer to talk to. When in the castle, Barclay will ask him his thoughts on the historical and political scrolls his tutors assign him as part of his preparation to one day inherit the kingdom. Out in public, Joseph shifts into the background, watches everything with care while the prince swims behind his parents or, more often, their advisors.

“Do you think there was some kind of misunderstanding with his previous guard?” Joseph asks Duck over a late night dinner in the hall, which allows them to keep their eyes on their charges rooms.

“I mean, he seems like a nice enough fella to me. But nice fellas can still be sneaky; from what Ned told me, Barclay’s an escape artist. Think he might be lurin you into a false sense of security.”

“And I think trusting what Ned Chicane tells you is a terrible way to gather intel.”

Movement from Indrid’s room and Duck stiffens, listening, then relaxes.

“Shouldn’t you go check on that?”

“Nah, he’s just pacin, does that a lot, especially at night.”

“He really should get some sleep.”

Duck shrugs, “He should. But treatin him like a child is the wrong way to go. He knows he oughta rest, my remindin him will just annoy him. Besides,” Duck raises an eyebrow, “maybe you better be more focused on your prince.”

“He turned in an hour ago.”

“You sure?”

Something in Duck’s voice sends worry bubbling through his guts, “I’ll check now, just to be positive.”

The bed is empty, the prince nowhere to be found.

“Shit!” He darts back into the dim hallway, “he’s gone, I’ve got to find him and fast. How, how in name of the deep did you know?”

“Call it a hunch. Indrid likes to play the ‘I know somethin you don’t’ game, but if I let ‘im play it long enough, he let’s somethin important slip out.”

“Shit” Joseph says again, “I, if anyone asks-”

“I’ll say I ain’t seen you or Barclay since dinner. Ain’t a lie.” Duck winks and Joseph flashes him a quick smile before swimming back into the prince’s rooms. There’s only one door and no secret passageways, (he checked for those himself), so the windows it is. His tentacles can sense Barclay’s trail, faint but unmistakable, and he follows it until he’s almost at the shore. Then it’s gone.

He spends the next three hours feverishly tracing and retracing his path and keeping his panic to a minimum. When he spies a figure swimming towards him, he backs against a rock, planning to hide until they pass.

This plan changes the instant he registers who it is.

“Gaahfuck” Barclay catches his yell quickly and muffles it down to a hiss, “what the hell Joseph, you scared me.”

“And you just made me spend three hours swimming around and wondering if my charge had been abducted. I’d say that makes us even.”

“Didn’t make you do anything.” Barclay grumbles as Joseph turns them towards the palace.

He sighs, “No, I guess technically you didn’t. But I take my job very, very seriously. If this past week hasn’t demonstrated that sufficiently, maybe tonight has. When you disappear into the night, it’s my duty to follow.” He catches brown eyes studying him warily and adds, “I’m not doing it to be punitive or steal your freedom, or even because their majesties told me to; I’m doing it because you’re under my protection.”

The prince nods but says nothing else until they return to his rooms.

“Joseph? I’m uh, I’m sorry. For scaring you. You got farther than anyone else did, none of them ever tracked me that well, if they noticed I was gone at all. I figured you wouldn’t notice, so you wouldn’t worry. So, yeah. I’m sorry.”

Joseph knows a false apology when he hears it, and this is as far from one as a desert is from the deep sea.

“Apology accepted, my prince. But Barclay” he levels the other mer with a stern gaze, tries not to notice his cheeks tinging pink the longer he holds it, “don’t do it again.”

-----------------------------------------------------

“Are you certain we cannot trade?” Indrid’s fin ripples with agitation as he draws.

“Nope, Joseph is a good bodyguard.”

“And your crush on him is not governing your answer in the slightest?” Indrid smirks but doesn’t look up.

“No idea what you’re talking about. Besides, Duck seems nice.” Barclay stretches his other arm, then pauses, “wait, fuck, is he hurting you or something?”

“No. On the contrary, he is annoyingly concerned with my wellbeing.”

“That’s his job.”

“It was the job of all his predecessors as well, but all it took was ordering them around or demanding things in the right tone before they were letting me do as I pleased. I wanted to go to that bar on the edge of town last night and do you know what he did? He told me no, because word had gotten around that it was a spot I frequented and someone there might try to take me hostage.”

“...And?”

“And, and then when I tried to leave anyway he blocked the door with that blasted muscular tail and obnoxiously charming face and wouldn’t move! Then he told me he would if I looked at the future told him we’d both be safe if we went. It turns out he was right, the chances of violence were high.”

“I mean, you don’t like places that loud anyway-”

“It’s the principle of the thing.” Indrid sighs, “so we stayed in and I made him read to me as penance but he was very good at it and I fell asleep within a half hour.”

Barclay is trying hard not to laugh, only because he knows how hard it is for his brother to admit such things. And because, given what else he knows of Duck, the mer might be exactly what his brother needs. If nothing else, Barclay hopes Duck might be observant enough to notice what’s there, not just what his brother tries to toss up like so much sand in hopes of obscuring the truth.

Indrid goes back to his drawings. Barclay can remember the first time their ministers caught Indrid capturing the futures this way and scolded him, saying the futures to look at were only those the court asked him to, nothing else. Indrid had explained, in a number of different ways, that this was how he could keep the images from overwhelming him, but still they insisted he stop. It wasn’t until he drew on his status and threw a near fit that they relented. That was a lesson he never forgot.

Barclay hopes todays lessons will be more enjoyable. One of the jobs of a royal bodyguard is to train the princes in self-defense. When Joseph and Duck enter the gym through kelp curtains, Barclay can’t help but be mesmerized by the poise with which his tentacles move across the ground.

“Good morning, your highness. And to you as well, your highness.” Joseph bows to them each in turn, “Barclay, today you and I will be working with swords while Duck and Prince Indrid work on hand to hand combat.”

“What?” Indrid looks up, red eyes wide, “Barclay is the one who trains hand to hand, not me.”

“Which is exactly why we gotta mix things up. You need all the modes of defense you can get. Unless of course you’re, uh, afraid you can’t take me.” Duck raises an eyebrow at Indrid.

His brother says nothing, simply grabs his bodyguard and pulls him towards the designated room, calling, “I’ll see you after lunch!”

He and Joseph trade an amused look, then swim to the shelf of blunted training weapons. They’re still bone or sharks tooth, but they’ve been sanded down so no one can get hurt.

“Now, you mentioned you’ve done some sword work, so am I right that you know how to hold this safely?”

“Yep.” Barclay takes the sword, swimming over to one of the Xs on the floor.

“Good. To keep things fair for now, I won’t use my tentacles for anything other than swimming.” Joseph takes his position on the opposite X and lifts his sword, “ready?”

Barclay nods and then immediately parries as Joseph lunges with a burst of speed. He recovers quickly, and they begin an elegant back and forth, bubbles and stray sand swirling through the air as they spin and dodge around one another. Joseph keeps up a steady stream of commentary, either positive or instructive, and Barclay is having a hard time ignoring the the thrill he gets every time Joseph pulls off a graceful maneuver.

When they break, both a little winded, there’s a crash from the next room.

“Fuck! You okay, your highness?” Duck sounds concerned.

“Yes, now try that again, I am going to get this right.”

Joseph glances at him, “Should we-”

“Nah. He kinda sounds like he’s enjoying himself.”

The other mer studies him, “Are you?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Then I’m going to ask you to stop holding back. I can’t train you effectively if I don’t know what your skill level actually is.”

He’s learned not to insist Joseph is mis-observing things when he’s actually observing them perfectly; the other mer is too sharp for that.

“I...I just don’t want to hurt you.”

Joseph swims close, sets a hand on his shoulder, “For starters, these are fake swords, and I’m not a bad fighter. But more than that, I suspect there’s a very impressive swordsman under those scales.”

They take their positions and when Joseph gives the signal Barclay attacks with all the force his tail can muster. Joseph dodges easily but makes an approving noise. Then he grins, the expression downright rakish, and attacks with such precision and speed that Barclay barely manages to counter him.

His focus narrows down to the fight, to watching Joseph’s body for every sign of movement, every twitch of muscle and tentacle. Finally, he sees his opening and drives the other mer backwards until he’s trapped, back to the rocky grey wall.

“Well” Barclay pants, images of finishing the fight with a kiss banging about his mind, “what do you think of that, Joseph?”

Two tentacles rise, plucking both swords from their fighters hands as his bodyguard murmurs, “I’m impressed.”

-------------------------------------------------------

It’s been a month and a half since Barclay slipped out of his room, and while he’s tried twice more, Joseph has been ready each time. Tonight, however, he’s opting for a new strategy.

He bids the prince goodnight, well aware he’ll swim out the window around moonrise. Then he waits just across from the window, skin and tentacles camouflaged with the rocks. Right on time, Barclay emerges, swimming quickly and quietly towards the shore. Joseph follows at a safe distance, forces himself to focus on the prince’s likely path rather than on how handsome he looks in the moonlight.

When they reach the shallows Barclay pauses, slips a woven bracelet onto his wrist, and kicks towards the surface.

Who in the name of the wide ocean gave him legs?

Joseph’s physiology allows him to crawl across the tidepools, keeping his eyes on Barclay as the prince retrieves a set of clothes hidden behind a rock and walks into the small town of Kepler, turning towards a restaurant on the pier.

Someone had to enchant that bracelet for him, has to know where he’s going while using it. And that someone has to be a mer he trusts.

------------------------------------------------------

“Yes. I made him the bracelet. What of it?” Indrid says coolly.

“Indrid, do you have any idea how dangerous that is?” Joseph throws his arms and several tentacles in the air.

“Hold up” Duck turns to his prince, “Indrid, I’m guessin Barclay probably asked for a reason, right?”

“Indeed, but if I say what it was, you will reveal it to our parents and ministers and take it away from him.”

“I won’t. I promise. I, I just want to help.”

Indrid narrows his eyes. Then, remarkably, he turns to Duck and cocks his head. Duck nods.

“Very well. And yes, I will grant you that favor you’re about to ask for…”

----------------------------------------------------------

How do humans manage with these things? His tentacles tell him so much more than these useless feet do.

Joseph makes his wobbly way into Kepler, following Barclay’s trail down the pier, the one he’s walked the last two weeks while Joseph intermittently clung to the nearby wooden supports or fencing to make sure his prince wasn’t in danger.

Even with Indrid’s explanation, the room he enters is a surprise. Several counters with what he knows humans call “stoves” sitting on them, each manned by one or two people.

“Hello there” An affable older man in a multi-colored shirt approaches him, “you here for the class?”

“Yes.”

“Great! Hmmm, since you’re new, better pair you with someone, just to be safe. Follow me.”

Joseph isn’t afraid of much. But when he sees who the man intends to pair him with, he almost jumps out the window and flees back to the sea.

“You’re in luck, gonna pair you with my best student. Barclay, this is…”

“Joseph”

“Joseph’s first class with us, so I’m handin him over to you. Make me proud.”

Barclay isn’t blinking, but he manages to say, “sure thing, Thacker.”

The older man nods, pleased, and makes his way towards the kitchen set-up at the front of the room, greeting people as he goes.

“What the fuck, Joseph?” Barclay keeps his voice low, “did Janelle give you legs just so you could come drag me out of class?”

“No, no not at all. Indrid did this.”

“What?”

Joseph takes a deep breath, “Barclay, I told you that first week that I’m here to protect you. The way I see it, I’ll do a much better job if I come with you to something that clearly matters to you, rather than force you to hide it from me. No one knows about this but Indrid and Duck.”

Barclay seems stunned, doesn’t say anything as Thacker opens the class and instructs them on how to make something called “marinara” to go on “pasta.” The prince stays silent until they’re working on the cookies the human is also having them make.

“Here, it’s easier to cut them out like this.” He sets his hand atop Joseph’s, pressing and shaking it so the dough comes away from the stone slab in the shape of a heart.

“Thank you.”

Barclay smiles at him, and the kitchen grows hotter.

When everything is done cooking, they sit on stools at their station, eating the fruits of their labor. Barclay is animatedly describing the pie they made last week, occasionally stopping to chat with some of the other students. He looks so happy, and Joseph decides he will not tell their majesties about this even if they torture him. Or fire him.

As they walk back along the beach, Barclay explaining all the things he’s learned about cooking and how much he wishes they’d let him cook at the palace rather than insist it’s beneath his station, the prince takes his hand.

“Humans do this when they’re waling on the beach together. I think it’s to keep them from getting separated if they get hit by a wave.

Joseph is pretty sure that’s not the reason, but he’s not about to say so now.

They dive back under the waves, removing their charms and swimming side by side in the dark water. Once they’re safely inside, Barclay turns to him, beaming, “Thank you so much for coming.”

“Even if I wasn’t invited?”

“Yeah. It, uh, it means a lot to me that you wanna learn about the stuff that matters to me. That you wanna know the real me.”

“Of course I do.”

Barclay swims dangerously close, “You, uh, do you wanna know another part?”

He nods. Barclay leans in and presses their lips together. Joseph manages to keep his hands himself, but his tentacles have other ideas, curling protectively around the prince’s tail and waist. The instant Barclay pulls back with the most adorable sigh in the sea, Joseph forces them to return to their normal position.

The prince gives him a final, shy smile and whispers, “‘Night, Joseph. And thanks for everything.”

#I will probably make this into a human au fic #sternclay #agent stern/barclay #mermay #mermay fills #taz amnesty #bodyguard au

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bybdolan · 4 years ago

Text

HOLY GROUND - A Taylor Swift jukebox musical

“Holy Ground is a jukebox musical featuring the songs of American Singer-Songwriter Taylor Swift. The film’s plot is based on the 1953 classic Roman Holiday, starring Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck, in which a runaway princess falls in love with a journalist over the course of a day spend in Rome.”

OR: A rather rough idea for a Taylor musical, inspired by the anon who asked me if I had more ideas regarding the edit the quote above was written for.

PLAYLIST

The movie starts with the title screen and credits (old-fashioned style), with an orchestral version of State Of Grace. Then, we are introduced to the princess, Mary, our protagonist. She's at a ball, surrounded by many people and the press, she's stressed and she feels lonely (mirrorball). The song is accompanied by a ballroom dance that is sort of mechanical and unnatural and the princess is tossed around by her partners. During the bridge, it almost seems as if they are pushing her around the way playground bullies do and she is lost and alone in the sea of twirling ballgowns.

There's a bit of dialogue where we get some information about Princess Mary (she's on a tour of the European capitals to strengthen the bond between the countries) and when she boards the plane to Rome, she starts to sing Love Story, daydreaming about real love. During the song, we are introduced to the journalist, Stephen, (Dev Patel), who is walking around Rome trying to write a story that is good enought to keep his employer from firing him. (He's struggling.)

We fast forward through a few meetings and press conferences until it's nighttime and Mary has a breakdown in her room because she is overwhelmed by her duties. She is given pills that are supposed to make her fall asleep within the next few hours. Finally alone, she takes a look out the window and sees a party going on in the streets. Intrigued by the laughter and the light and overcome by the wish to finally do something just for herself, she decides to sneak out of the hotel. She manages to get past the guards in a garbage truck.

Outside, she joins the parade (New Romantics). However, the pills start to kick in and Mary, all drowsy and unequipped to deal with the real world, decides to lie down on a bench to sleep. She is discovered by Stephen, who is worried that something will happen to her and takes her home with him. He doesn't recognize her. Due to her delirious state, Mary is a hassle to deal with and some antics ensue (for example: she demands that Stephen helps her undress and doesn't accept that she has to sleep on the couch). They both eventually fall asleep (Stephen takes the couch).

The next morning, Stephen accidentally sleeps in and misses his scheduled interview with Princess Mary. In order to not get fired, he pretends that he actually went to the interview in front of his boss. But he has bad luck: The princess' publicist has send out emails and articles that claim the princess had fallen ill and therefore had to cancel all interviews as a cover up for her disappearance. When his boss angrily shows him a picture of the article announcing the princess' illness, Stephen realizes that the she is the girl sleeping in his bed. He begs his boss not to fire him and tells him that he has an idea for a hit story about the princess. His boss reluctantly agrees to keep him employed, but tells him that he'll be out of a job if he doesn't deliver.

Stephen races back to his apartment where Mary is still sleeping. On the way there, he calls his friend, a photographer, and tells her about his plan to show Mary around Rome and asking her personal questions while his friend – Corinna – takes pictures for the article.

When Mary eventually wakes up and gets over the shock of being in a stranger's home, she asks Stephen if she could take a shower and maybe borrow some clothes, claiming that she needs them because her dress got dirty the night before. She keeps her true identity a secret, saying that her name is Marjorie. When Stephen tells her to choose an outfit, she picks baggy clothing and a baseball hat to hide her hair, in the hope that she won't be recognized. Stephen offers her a tour of the city, with assistance by Corinna, who he claims is the best tour guide he knows. Mary, having never been out and about alone and feeling unsafe without her entourage of bodyguards, agrees. They go to small café and make up little stories for the other customers there while waiting for Corinna to arrive, which is something Mary likes to do at political gatherings in order to combat boredom and loneliness (Begin Again). However, their plan to stroll around Rome and look at all the tourist hotspots gets foiled when Mary recognizes a guy in the streets as one of her guards who is looking for her. She grabs Stephen and steals a motorbike that's parked nearby and they drive away – since Mary doesn't know how to drive a motorbike it's a near death experience for both of them (I Know Places - Instrumental). They end up in a less crowded part of town and hide in a crowd of wedding guests. They stay a bit in order to listen to the band play and dance (Paper Rings – ideally with a celebrity cameo for the wedding band). Mary blames her bike freakout on her fear of big crowds, so Stephen offers her to show her his personal favorite spots of the city instead of the tourist attractions. They reunite with Corinna and spend some time in the small streets surrounding the city center. Mary finds herself developing a crush on Stephen (Hey Stephen/Fearless).

The day progresses without any major troubles, until they accidentally run into the guards once again. Mary and Stephen flee from them and hide in a small alleyway between two houses. Mary takes advantage of the fact that they are tightly pressed against one another and kisses Stephen. He reciprocicates. After the kiss, Mary tells him that she is the lost princess and Stephen confesses his plan to write an article about her. He promises to not do that now, but doesn't mention that that decision will cost him his job. They both agree that it is best to get Mary back to her hotel soon in order to keep her safe (Wildest Dreams). However, Mary asks for one more thing: She wants to make a wish at Trevi fountain. Stephen takes her to the fountain and Mary tosses a coin into it. They both think about the time they spent together (The 1 - BIG crowd dance scene that ends with people jumping into the fountain). Afterwards, Stephen takes Mary back to her hotel and watches as she goes inside, back into her gold cage (acapella reprise of the chorus of The 1).

The press conference that was cancelled due to Mary's "illness" is held the next morning and both Stephen and Corinna attend and stand in the first row. When being asked about which city in Europe she liked the most, Mary answers Rome and says that's she'll never forget her stay, all while looking at Stephen. She insists on personally greeting some of the members of the press. When she gets to Corinna and Stephen, Corinna hands her an envelope with the photos she secretly took of her tour of the city, and Stephen and Mary share a final dance in a dream sequence that mirrors the mirrorball scene from the beginning, with the exception that the room is empty except for them (Dorothea). When Mary leaves the press conference room, Stephen stays there for a long time, until everybody else has left (Wildest Dreams - Piano).

Holy Ground plays during the credits.

#amy writes #i guess???#i stayed up way too late for this dhshd #taylor swift #taylor swift cinematic universe #tscu #or the taylor swift dev patel cinematic universe #tsdpcu

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cherrybracelets · 5 years ago

Text

Politics & Violence (one)

masterlist | requests

summary: Your father is one of the most progressive presidents in history, and many praise you and your family for all the good you’ve done for the country. But there is a select group of radicals who plans to take the entire administration down, and the threat to you and your family is growing every day. Your father takes matters into his own hands when he hires individual body guards for each member of your family.

pairing: bodyguard!a. hotchner x presidents daughter!reader

words; 11.5k warnings: this fic will be 18+!!! lots of heavy stuff, drugs, alc, depression, sex, guns, violence, death

song inspo: politics and violence by dominic fike

an: hey this is my first hotch piece and I’m super nervous so please let me know what u think!! i will be making a full playlist for this fic and a moodboard so keep ur eyes peeled; this is also obviously non canon and the backstory hotch has here is completely made up by me also this is gone be two parts ok bye

Being the daughter of the president was hard enough, it doesn’t make it any easier that you’re fucking your bodyguard. You wouldn’t trade Hotch for the world, but it was exhausting keeping up with this life sometimes. You never thought of yourself as someone who would get entangled up into a secret like this. You felt it weighing on you all the time. Every secret glance between you two in the hall, every ‘accidental’ touch at an event, the secret kissing in the closets with the door locked and the lights off. It was a thrill, but also added unneeded strain to your life.

Hotch saw the effects he had on you, too. Both negative and positive. He knew that the love you two shared, the passion between you, would be unmatched with any other person. But he also knew how hard it was to keep that love a secret, to not hold hands in public, to lie to all of your friends and family. Most importantly, to lie to your dad. Loving him, being with him, it was a sacrifice.

Your dad had spent the past 23 years of his life doing everything he could to protect you. He hated that he brought you into this life; he hated this life himself. All he wanted was to help people, and he thought the best way would be politics. But he didn’t know that with his more modern takes, many people would hate him. And it got so bad that last year you started receiving death threats. A group of radicals had recently started sending individual letters to your whole family, making it clear how much they hated you and what your family stood for.

It was terrifying. And you were tired of it. You had been dealing with it your whole life, as he had been an important politician for a long time before winning the presidency. The cameras following you everywhere you went, never having real relationships with anybody because people just wanted the clout that came with knowing you. You were miserable, and were only finding happiness in the darkest of places, ironically. Partying, alcohol and drugs had taken over most of your nights, with a group of people who you wouldn’t really call your friends, but people who had allowed you to be miserable with them.

You had never really had friends, besides your siblings. People always wanted to be your friend, but almost never for genuine reason. And when someone was being genuine, which was rare, you had a hard time trusting and ultimately hurt the person to avoid being hurt yourself. It was a terrible cycle that you’d been dealing with for... a long time. Twenty three years to be exact, because the night of your twenty third birthday was when it all changed.

Your dad had called everyone to the house for a family dinner. At the time, you were living in some tiny studio across town, and your brother was shacking up with some girl he knew from college. It was pretty rare to get all of you together in one place, but for you and your brother, Matt’s birthday, it was extra important that everyone was there.

Your father always blocked out his schedule for birthdays, they were a big deal to him. And although you were dreading having to put on your happy face for an evening of passive aggressive comments and awkward small talk, you did it for him. He was the only member of your family who deserved even a second of your time.

So that night, you drove to your parents house, reminding yourself that it’s only a few hours and everything will be fine. There won’t be any issues, you and Matt won’t fight, the two younger siblings won’t fight, mom and dad won’t fight. No one will fight, you promised yourself. You’ll hold it together. You practiced your smile as you pulled in the driveway, hoping to not be too disingenuous when you saw everyone.

None of them were especially bad people, they just all had a lot of problems, and were especially bad at dealing with them. But, so were you. Comes with the territory of being a high profile political family, apparently. You already saw Matt’s car there as well, which made you nervous. Matt and your mother being alone together for very long without you to interject was never good. It could already be a disaster as soon as you walk in.

You got out of your car and walked slowly to the entrance, your head down. You didn’t like making eye contact with the secret service, they always made you incredibly nervous. They stood so still, but their eyes always followed you like a haunted painting. Someone opened the door for you, and you stepped through the entrance to an empty hall. You assumed they were in the dining room already, waiting for you.

As you walked there, you noticed an unusual silence of guards and other employees. Most people at least said hi to you as you walked by, but there was nothing tonight. Every face you passed was buried in paperwork or their phones, looking worried. When you finally arrived to the dining room, you walked into an unusual silence. There were quite a few guards that you hadn’t recognized, one specific one watching you intently as you greeted your family and sat in between your dad and Matt.

“Thank you for finally gracing us with your presence, princess,” Matt grumbled, raising his eyebrows in discontent as he shifted in his chair.

“I’m like, five minutes late dude, can you relax?” You protested, crossing your arms in frustration and avoiding looking at him.

“Guys, please don’t do this, not tonight for God’s sake,” your father interjected, his teeth tightly clenched together as he stared daggers at the two of you. His forehead was sweating, and his nails were bitten down to the point of bleeding. It had been almost two weeks since you’d last seen him, but he was not like this before. Something was happening, and you felt your stomach turn as you looked around the rest of the table and realized you were the only one out of the loop.

“What is happening with everyone right now?” You looked at your dad first, hoping he would step in and explain the obvious elephant in the room.

“Someone is trying to kill us all,” your little brother, Charlie, blurted out. He was young, only ten, and clearly didn't understand the gravity of the situation.

“Jesus, Charlie, way to freak her out,” your sister yelped, pushing him slightly.

“Charlie, Dani, both of you shut up!” Your mom yelled, slamming her fists down on the table loudly and making you all jump.

“Everyone, relax, okay,” your dad instructed calmly. It used to be you, mediating every fight and solving every issue. But you couldn’t do it anymore, and your dad knew. He needed to step up and fix the shattered remnants of your family. Unfortunately, that was a harder job than being the president.

“There have been some… issues, with this radical group based in Virginia. I get threats all the time, but, they are threatening each of you now. And I’m not going to put up with that. So, there’s going to be some changes around here.”

“Yeah, go ahead and tell her about how we have to move back home,” Matt objected.

“What?”

“It’s only temporary, (Y/N). We are doing everything we can to catch the guys who are doing this. But for now it is safest for all of you to be home.”

“I have a life, Dad. I can’t give up everything because you did some things that pissed people off.”

“Don’t be so selfish, (Y/N), this is about all of us, not just you.” Your mom took a long sip of her wine and sat back in her chair, preparing for the yelling that was about to ensue.

“You all each have a personal bodyguard as well, with high levels of combat training. They will be with you all day, everywhere you go. At night there will be a rotated shift of guards outside your doors.”

“Oh, wonderful.”

“Aaron, why don’t you come meet my lovely daughter,” your father muttered, motioning to one of the men standing behind him. As you suspected, the man who had not taken his eyes off of you since you arrived took a few steps forward, nodding respectively at you.

“At least yours is hot,” your brother whispered to you, rolling his eyes.

“My name is Aaron Hotchner, and I will do everything I can to keep you safe.” He stuck his hand out to you, and you grabbed it reluctantly, shaking his hand lightly. His touch was gentle, but his hands were strong and large compared to yours. He definitely looked the part.

“What about my trip next week?” You questioned, turning away from Hotch and back to your dad. “I’m supposed to go do that college campus tour in California. I leave in two weeks.”

“We all think you should still take that trip, it’s only a few weeks and Aaron will be with you the entire time. I don’t think the jet is a good idea, though. We’re going to have you fly commercial.”

“First class, I hope?” Your brother and mom both collectively rolled their eyes, and you just ignored them and continued to stare at your dad, awaiting his answers.

“Of course, darling.” He smiled politely, hoping to end the conversation here and get on with dinner. You decided it wasn’t worth pressing it, seeing how clearly your dad was falling apart, you didn’t want to add anymore stress to him.

The rest of the dinner was uneventful, for a change. You all made small talk, caught up on work and school- pretty boring stuff. The whole time, you felt his eyes on you. When you looked at him, he dragged his eyes away slowly, as if pretending he wasn’t watching your every move. You weren’t sure why he kept looking away when you noticed him- it was his job to watch you. It was almost as if the thought of your eyes meeting scared him.

The most exciting part about a dinner with your family was when you could finally leave and go home- but tonight, unfortunately, you did not have that luxury. Your bedroom here was already prepared, and you always had a few spare pairs of clothes here. You knew there was no way you could convince any of them to let you go home.

And you definitely could not go out with your friends. But they were blowing up your phone, talking about their plans to go out to some new club with some amazing new party drug. You looked around the room nervously, trying to plan an escape somehow. There had to be a way, you basically had a PhD in sneaking out.

“Well, it’s getting late, I think it’s time for us to get Mr. Charles to bed!” Your dad teased, making funny faces at your brother, who just laughed in return. It was nice seeing him so full of joy, still loving life. He hadn’t hit the rough years, yet. You missed that feeling, the feeling of not knowing that every day, no matter what, would be miserable.

“Yeah, I’m gonna head out. Breakfast tomorrow, Dani?”

“Really,” she sat up, tilting her head in confusion. She was 16, now, and was more miserable than the rest of you. Being sixteen and living this life is utterly exhausting. She looked up to you highly, and you always paid her extra attention. You didn’t want her to end up like you.

“Of course.” You kissed her on the head and hugged your dad, not bothering to say goodbye to anyone else. You walked through the doors quickly, a reluctant Aaron Hotchner following close behind.

“I thought you left me alone at night.”

“Once you’re safe and I’ve secured you in your room, I can pass my duties to another guard. I don’t see you safe in your room.”

“Okay, dude, I got it,” you rolled your eyes, watching him get closer to you with every step. He was right beside you, now, your arms both at your sides, your hands accidentally bumping together as you walked. The moment his flesh touched yours, you felt your whole body fill with heat, your throat feeling tight as the forbidden flesh touched yours. That was the first time you knew you wanted him, the first time you felt like you could lose yourself in him. He smelled of strong coffee and vanilla, pulling you in like a flower shop in a Spring day.

You stayed silent the rest of the walk, coming up to your bedroom door. “Honey is secure, send in the first shift.”

“Honey?”

“Code name.” He responded sternly.

“What does it mean?”

“I don’t… I don’t know. I just picked it when I saw your picture.” He seemed caught off guard, as if nobody had asked him that question before. You were pretty sure nobody had a codename like Honey.

You saw the other guard approaching, and Aaron seemed to relax a little as he saw the man. This man was a lot younger, and you didn’t feel nearly as protected with him. Which was probably why he was the night guard, and perfect for your plan. Aaron and the other man spoke secretly for a moment, before he turned and walked away without saying goodnight. You felt a little hurt, but also knew that it was his job to protect you, not to get close with you.

You went into your room and closed the door behind you, praying to God you had something cute to wear somewhere here. You searched around the closet, pulling garments off of hangers in frustration. Luckily you found an old dress that somehow still fit. You wiggled your way into it and fixed your hair a bit, hoping the low light of the club would cover for your bare face. You threw a robe on top of everything and shoved your heels into each pocket. You realized it was still pretty early, and decided to work on your presentation for your college tours.

You were pretty proud of your program actually. You had created a program for colleges to help get students to care more about politics, helping them to register to vote, understand laws and policies, amongst a million other things. It ended up being very successful, and your dad even credited you for helping him to win the presidency. Most of your life felt like you were stuck inside the darkest cloud to ever exist- but when you were working on this, doing your presentations for people just like you… it gave you something to live for. It was one of the few reasons you had to keep going, in all honesty.

And by the time you looked up at the clock, it was already almost 11, and your friends were on their way to the secret exit to pick you up. Yeah, there were plenty of hidden exit spots around the building that weren’t patrolled. You and Matt pretty much discovered that the first day you moved in here. You let your friends know that you’d be out soon, and you got yourself ready to go. You quietly opened the door to see the guard standing silently, turning towards you when he heard the noise.

“Hey, super sorry, my mom just texted me to come to her room. I’ll be right back!” You smiled confidently, closing the door and trying to start walking before he questioned you.

“I should probably go with you,” he requested.

“Oh, no, it’s fine. There’s a million of you guys on the way to her room. Plus, what if someone tries to sneak in my room. How will you know?”

“Oh… alright,” he muttered, awkwardly. “Just don’t take too long.”

You nodded in agreement and skipped down the hallway, people stopping to look at you momentarily before ultimately deciding they had something more important to do than worry about you. When you got to the back secret staircase, you dropped your robe and slipped your heels. Your friends were waiting for you at the door, greeting you with squeals and hugs.

“The uber is right outside the gate, let’s go!” One of them said, sprinting to the exit. You all followed quickly, laughing and twirling in the warm summer air. That was weirdly easy. You had never had such an easy time getting out. You slowed down a bit, your friends brushing past you. Something felt off. But right now, you were out, and you could at least enjoy it while it lasts. You shook your negativity off and ran to catch up with them, exiting the gate and running up the street. You stopped at your Uber and slid into the back with two others. When the doors were all closed and the car started moving, your friend in the passenger seat turned around with a handful of small blue pills.

“Have one!”

“What is it?”

“It’s a whole lot of fun, that I know for sure.” He raised his eyebrows goofily, giggling as you shrugged and took a pill. You washed it down with a swig of vodka from someone’s flask. You winced at the sharp taste of the alcohol, feeling it burning your throat and descending into your stomach.

The music on the radio was bumping loudly, each beat of the bass shaking the car. You felt everyone moving around you so quickly, but you were frozen. Your body wouldn’t move. You didn’t feel scared, though. You almost felt that if you couldn’t move, if all you could do was just sit there and listen, no one could possibly hurt you anymore. You were finally safe.

But then a hand touched yours, and the reality of your pause in time came crashing down. Your whole body jerked, and you snapped back to reality to see your friend trying to drag you from the car and into the club. She hadn’t even noticed your temporary disconnect from reality, or if she did, she didn’t care. She, just like all of you, just wanted to party. The last thing you wanted was to come face to face with your problems.

The club was dark and smoky, blurring the faces of those around you, everyone just becoming silhouettes of themselves. Someone passed you something to smoke, and you took a drag without hesitation. You got swept up into the crowd, your body moving with theirs like seaweed in a flowing ocean. Your feet were attached to the ground, but your body floated as if the wind was carrying it in her hands. Someone came up behind you, wrapping their hands around your waist and tracing their lips up your neck. Their body moved in sync with yours, the universe holding you together like a moon to it’s orbiting planet.

“Shots!” A voice nearby called. You instinctively recognized the voice, and trailed off to find the rest of your friends passing around a bottle. You joined excitedly, wrapping your arms around one of them and reaching for the bottle. You took a long swig, not even tasting the overpriced tequila, just letting it pour straight down your throat and into your body. The walls around you turned into stained glass, the sunlight pouring in a shining a beautiful rainbow of light on the crowd around you. You remembered the blue pill you took in the car, and felt happy. He was right, this was a whole lot of fun.

The music picked up a bit, and you felt each beat pulsing through your body as if it were your own heartbeat. You dragged a person from your group out to the dance floor, needing to move your body. Luckily the rest of the group followed, dancing with you, the blue pills pulling you all into the same universe. You loved moments like this, where you lost yourself, where you couldn’t even remember what real life was like even if you tried. The thought of that scared a lot of people, and you understood why. For many people, their reality was way better than anything a drug could create for them. But for some people, and for you, you needed to disappear into another existence in order to survive.

You had no idea how long you had been dancing, it felt like only seconds but your body felt like it had been moving for hours. You were still slightly lost in your mind, the drug slowly wearing off and bringing you down to the harsh reality of the come down. You felt a hand grab tightly onto your wrist, and you yelped. You couldn’t see who it was, but they were tugging at you harshly, and you couldn’t resist much longer. Your body was tired and weak, and this man was strong. You finally felt yourself moving through the people and towards the exist, still no sight of who had their hands locked to you.

If you someone snuck out and died, your dad would be so pissed. You started feeling scared, not enough drugs left in you to block out the reality of the situation. You panicked, trying to pull your hand away and scream. But no one noticed, everyone was lost in their own universes, completely away from reality, where you needed them. That was the downfall of this lifestyle, of course. Sometimes people could lose themselves a little too much.

You managed to get pulled out the door, the fresh air smacking you harshly right in the face. You felt dizzy, the lights of the city around you spinning wildly. You sat down on the pavement, pulling whoever took you out down with you. You tried to look up at him, but felt queasy when you moved your head.

“Just take a deep breathe,” a man whispered, placing his hand on your back and rubbing slowly. “Here’s some water.” He handed you an opened bottle, your fingers touching lightly and instantly making you feel better. His touch was almost healing, like he was pulling the pain right out of you. The longer he kept his hand on you, the better you felt. You sipped slowly on the water, the cold liquid flowing through you and cleansing your body.

“We need to get going,” he instructed, pulling at your arm to get up.

“Hotchner,” you muttered, finally realizing the mystery man that was stealing you away into the night.

“It’s Aaron.”

“I don’t like that. Doesn’t fit. I do like Hotch-” you hiccuped. “Hotch, actually, that’s pretty bad ass.” You giggled loudly, Hotch helping you into the front seat of the car and buckling you in. He went around the front and got into the drivers seat, starting the car with a grunt.

“How did you find me?”

“How long do you think Cooper would’ve waited until he realized you weren’t with your mom.”

“That’s not what I asked,” you sat up, taking a deep breath and looking over at the man. “I knew you’d realize I was gone. How did you find me?”

Hotch moved his lips uncomfortably, his eyes shifting back and forth.

“Why would you go out when you know how much danger you’re in? You’re an extremely intelligent woman on paper, (Y/N), but you are clearly so incredibly stupid.”

You gasped in awe, your heart racing and heat flushing to your cheeks. You were blushing like a strawberry, digging your nails into your palms to refrain yourself from screaming at him, or punching him, or just getting out of the car at the next red light.

“You don’t know anything about me, Aaron. Don’t pretend you know me from reading a few of my daddy’s notes.” You sat back in exhaustion, feeling your eyes fill with tears. You willed yourself to not cry in front of him, to hold it together until you were alone. The last person you wanted to break down in front of was him.

“We’re stopping somewhere, before we get you home.” His voice was calmer this time, clearly realizing you were upset. He didn’t look at you the rest of the ride, staring ahead at the road, focusing intently on the cars around him. You recognized the street as he started to park, realizing you were at your apartment.

“What are we doing here?” You muttered in confusion, looking around at the familiar buildings.

“Let’s go inside.”

He turned the car off and got out, walking around to you and opening your door. You reluctantly got out, and walked slowly to the front door of your building. You realized quickly you didn’t have your keys, and turned to him. As if he read your mind, he held up your keys in his hand and nodded at you. He walked to the door and typed in the code to unlock it, revealing the lobby of your apartment building. You were on the second floor, and the two of you walked slowly up the stairs to your place. He continued to stay silent as he unlocked your apartment door, opening it hastily as he braced himself to walk into your place. He shuttered uncomfortably as he stepped inside.

“Can you tell me why we’re here now?” You insisted, shutting the door loudly behind you and locking it. You were still feeling kind of uneasy, and needed to reassurance of a locked door if someone happened to come look for you here.

“Get your things. Everything you need.” He crossed his arms, a look of authority overcoming him. You realized now that he was dressed down- wearing only a t-shirt and jeans. His arms looked stunning in the cut off sleeves, the nicely displayed muscles in plain view.

“Why… why do I need my things?”

“Because, you’ve lost your privileges to privacy. Since you want to act out, you no longer have your own place. Take everything you need and say goodbye, because we’re not coming back here again.” He had raised his voice quite loudly, his arms uncrossed and at his sides. He had gotten closer to you as he spoke, now only a foot or so away from you.

“Excuse me? Who the hell do you think you are?”

“I am trying to protect you. Do you not care at all about your own life, or your families? You are being incredibly selfish, you know that. You have an amazing family that loves you, millions of people around the country that adore you. If something happened to you, the world would be devastated, and yet you are so reckless with your life? It’s… I truly don’t get it, (Y/N).”

You stood in awe, unsure of what to say to him. You felt like a thousand pound weight just dropped on your chest. No one had ever spoken to you like that before, especially not someone who was hired to protect you. You stepped away from him, stumbling over your steps as you rested yourself against the wall.

“What… what about you?” You muttered, looking up at him. “You want to talk about recklessness with life? You don’t know me, or care about me at all, and you’re here ready and willing to die to protect me. Don’t you think that’s a little fucked up? Or, what is it, Hotch? Do you have a hero complex?” You cocked your head at him, grinning. Your moment of sadness had passed, and now you were pissed. Nobody talked to you that way. And now you wanted to piss him off.

“No, you’ve got me all wrong sweetheart,” he chuckled, walking closer and closer to you until he was inches away and you were completely backed against the wall. He moved his arms to the base of his shirt and ripped it over his head, revealing an unsurprisingly ripped body. He had multiple scars across his chest and abdomen.

“I’ve been in and out of foster homes my whole life. Switched schools constantly so I never had many friends. Went right into the Marines after high school and kept to myself for the most part there, too. I have no one, (Y/N). If I die, nobody would blink an eye. If you die, the whole country would shut down. Do you see these?” He pointed to his scars, touching them gently as if taking a moment to remember each one. “I’ve taken bullets for many before, and I’ll do it for you if I have to, Honey. That’s why I do this. I’m not reckless with my life. I have no one, no life outside of this. I can give up that to protect someone like you.”

His hand was resting on the wall behind your head, his body towering over you. He was breathing heavy, trying to relax himself.

“That is so…” you took a deep breath, bringing your hand up to his flesh and tracing your fingers over his scars. You gently circled the rough skin, watching him look down in confusion as you touched him. “Incredibly sad.” You looked up at him, meeting his eyes as your hand still pressed against his bare chest. “I’m so sorry nobody has made your life feel worth it. You don’t deserve that,” you whispered, your face only inches from his. You realized now the vanilla scent that rolled so deliciously off of him was his cologne, because it was much stronger as you got closer to the base of his neck.

“We need to get out of here. Get you home.” He muttered, turning away from you harshly, and looking around to find his shirt.

“I’m… I didn’t mean to upset you, Hotch.”

“It’s Aaron,” he barked, his eyes filled with fury as he scrambled around for his missing clothes.

“Why don’t we just get my things tomorrow? I promise I’ll stay in the rest of the night.”

“You won’t have the chance to sneak out again, I can promise you that.” He said sternly, putting his shirt on quickly and heading for the door. You followed quietly behind him, your head racing and your body flushing from being so close to him just moments ago. He ushered you into the car quickly and slammed the door behind you. His energy had changed so dramatically from moments ago, but you were still feeling so drawn to him.

You remembered the way his bare skin felt to your touch. Even one small brush on your fingertips against his flesh made him melt, as if he couldn’t remember the last time somebody had touched him with such pure intentions.

He was driving quite recklessly back to the big house, not saying a word as you stared silently ahead, replaying the moment over and over in your head. You wanted to say something, trying to come up with the right words to handle this situation. But your brain came up empty, and you continued to stay silent the rest of the drive home.

Hotch parked the car in the garage, sitting back in his seat for a moment as if he wanted to get something off his chest before going in. “You’re lucky I didn’t tell anyone you’d snuck out. I’ll cover for you this time, but don’t count on it if it happens again.”

“I’m sorry I made you come get me,” you whispered, fully realizing how dumb and selfish your actions were. He was right, you were reckless with your life. But you’d never really cared about it, or even thought about it, until now.

“That was, um,” he shifted, clearing his throat. “That was unprofessional of me to talk to you that way. I apologize.”

“No… I… you were right. I kind of needed to hear it. And, again, I’m sorry that you feel the way you do.” You slowly reached your hand out and grabbed onto his, your delicate hand resting gracefully amongst his strong, tired ones. It was almost comical, the difference in the sizes.

Your fingers intertwined in his, your palms meeting as you sat silently in the car. You looked up at him, his eyes staring deeply at your hand in his. His thumb grazed gently over your skin, his silent way of acknowledging your touch. You knew, in that moment, that your feelings towards each other were the same. There was an undeniable chemistry between the two of you, despite every element working against a relationship. And you both knew that. It could never work, and nothing could ever happen.

He tore his hand away with haste and looked out the window, refusing to verbally acknowledge the moment you just shared. One of many moments you had shared since you met.

“You need to get inside before anyone else realizes you’re gone. Cooper is inside the door. I’ll see you in the morning.” He refused to look at you, his body backed up into the door as far away as he could get himself. You nodded silently and opened your door, getting out onto the concrete and beginning to walk to the door. You turned back to look at him, and he was watching you, as always.

“I want to make sure you get in safe,” he muttered through the cracked window of his car door.

“Thank you, Hotch.” You smiled at him, and were hoping to catch a grin from him, too. But he didn’t seem like the type of man to smile very often, and this definitely wasn’t the right moment. He continued to watch you until you got in the door, an angry Cooper ready to lecture you as he walked you back to your room. You did your best to ignore his taunts, your mind still on Hotch.

You fell asleep quickly after you got back to your room, your body craving the healing powers of sleep. Your dreams were fluttered with thoughts of him, his touch. You could not even escape him in your solitude, your soul, your subconscious, was so encapsaleted by him. They would not let you forget him, even if your slumber.

You finally woke up around eleven the next morning, confused and dehydrated, your head throbbing. You clearly had a wicked hangover, and were still feeling pretty laggy from the drugs the night before. You crawled slowly out of bed and into your connecting bathroom, sticking your head under the sink and slurping down faucet water like a child on a hot summer day. The cool taste felt refreshing on your throat, but the minute it hit your throat you felt nauseous. You clipped your hair back so it was away from your face, which was still rocking last night's makeup. You finally opened the door of your room to a different man, one you hadn’t recognized.

Seeing a stranger made you startled, especially standing right outside of your room. You instinctively wanted to call for Hotch, pleading for him to come sweep you off your feet and save you. But, there was nothing to save you from, as this man was just the third shift night guard. He confirmed that when he muttered, “Honey has left her room. Send in A3.”

You waited for him to greet you, say anything at all, but he stood silent and waited for him commanding guard to relieve of him his duties. You started to walk towards the kitchen, the nausea you were facing earlier now turned to hunger. You were stopped by his arm, blocking you from going any further.

“You have to wait until he gets here, Miss.”

“Right, sorry.” He had already turned away, you weren’t even sure if he had heard your apology. You didn’t know how long you’d have to wait until Hotch came and released you from your prison cell, so you scrolled through instagram in annoyance as you waited.

“Good morning, it’s wonderful of you to join the living. Long night last night?” Hotch was smirking at you, a look of contempt as he clearly saw the misery of the previous night sweating right out of you. His mood clearly changed to despising you, again. And if that’s how he wanted to play things this morning, you were happy to play right along with him.

“Not all of us have no life at all, Aaron. Sometimes people, ya know, do things.” You rolled your eyes as you walked passed him quickly, trying to get down to the kitchen before all the food was gone.

“Not all of us have death threats hanging over our heads, either,” he snapped back, his voice sharp and stern. “Where are you going, (Y/N)?”

“Breakfast. I’m hungry,” you shrugged, continuing to walk fast and not get too close to him. Everything felt so hot and cold, you honestly had no idea what he was feeling. The times where you were close, where you felt him, it was so genuine. You knew there was a chemistry between you. But his anger towards you also felt so real. If he was somehow faking, if it was an act or a defense mechanism for his true feelings, he was doing an incredible job.

“All the food is gone. They won’t be back till lunch in another hour.” His smirk came back, as if he was excited by the idea that you now couldn’t eat. “We could go get food, though. If you’d like. If you can’t wait.”

“Yeah, that’s a great idea actually. There’s a little diner right near my place that has the best chocolate chip pancakes I have ever had.” Your thoughts were racing, the idea of delicious food filling your brain. You did that, sometimes, just lost yourself in your thoughts or an idea. You caught him smiling, maybe at you, maybe at just a passing thought. But the feeling of him watching you, seeing your beauty, and smiling. It made your heart race.

“Let’s get to the car, we don’t wanna be gone too long. You’ve got a lot to prepare for your trip coming up.” Hotch motioned towards the stairs, and you remembered the current state of your wardrobe and stopped in your tracks.

“I can’t go looking like this… I mean, this is bad,” you laughed, pointing at your messy hair and smudged mascara.

“Maybe nobody will recognize you if you look that… well…” he chuckled, raising a brow as he looked you up and down.

“Well that’s a little rude.” You both laughed together until silence ultimately fell on the room. You felt like there was more to be said, but you weren’t sure what. You stood still, waiting for some instruction on what to do next. Why was it that you could never figure out what to do with yourself in situations like this?

“I think you look beautiful,” he observed, a slight comical tone to his voice. But the way he looked at you, the way he said it, for a slight moment, it felt real. His words felt real. And you would lose yourself in the chaos of it all if you had to spend every day decoding his words, trying to figure out what is real, what is truly him, and what is a facade. You couldn’t fall for him, you couldn't put yourself through that. But each moment with him drew you in more and more, you almost felt that you would be unable to escape him if things went any further, if the small flirtatious comments and slight forbidden touches when you were alone.

“Let’s get to the car, go get you something to eat,” he instructed, beginning to walk away. You followed him close behind, not sure why you craved the security of him so much. It was his job, but he really did make you feel safe. You followed him down the garage silently, and hoped into the passenger seat of his SUV.

“Where are we going?” He asked, trying to program the address into the GPS. He looked up at you for an answer, his eyes wide and childlike, the simple act of asking you for assistance making you melt.

“Uh, Ruby Street Diner,” you stuttered, watching his hands diligently as he typed in the address. He turned on the radio and started driving, and you stared eagerly out the window as you drove. You weren’t sure, but you could’ve sworn you heard him humming with the music. It was those little things that reminded you he was still human, and that was the last thing he was supposed to do. The more human he became, the more he showed you of himself, the harder it would be for you to walk away.

The drive was silent, but you didn’t mind it. It didn’t feel awkward. Neither of you had anything to say, and sometimes that’s okay. You watched him out of the corner of his eye, watching his face, the way he studied the world around him. Sometimes it seemed like he saw everything, like he saw you watching him. If he knew, he didn’t care. He would glance over at you ever minute or so, maybe to just check if you’re still safe, still breathing. Maybe because he, too, was wondering how he could walk away from you.

He parked his car on the street across from the diner, and checked his pockets and gun before turning the car off. He looked around him, checking for anything suspicious and out of the ordinary. He clearly didn’t see anything to worry him much, because he opened the door quickly after and got out of the car. He walked to your side and opened your door, checking for oncoming cars as he did so. You were used to people opening doors for you, but something about him holding it open and grabbing your hand as you stepped out of the large truck was hot.

You walked into the diner and were quickly seated at a small booth in the corner, per his request. It was never a good idea to be in the center of the scene, he said. You nodded in understanding, looking around at the crowd, which wasn’t anything to be worried about. The scene at a diner at noon on a Thursday was never very eventful.

“Thanks for taking me out,” you whispered, your eyes lazily scrolling over the menu even though you already had your heart set on those chocolate chip pancakes.

“It’s my number one duty to make sure you are safe and satisfied.”

“Satisfied? I don’t feel like that’s really a part of your job description.”

“Of course it is. If you’re unhappy, angry, sad- you’re more likely to rebel, lash out, sneak out.” He chuckled softly, taking a sip of the hot coffee the waitress just poured for you both. You ordered your food, and Hotch ordered some wheat toast and a fruit bowl. You rolled your eyes at his order, knowing you were about to stuff your face.

“So, are you saying the only reason I go to party is because I’m unhappy?”

“I don’t want to make any assumptions about your life. It’s just, in my experience, people turn to that life if they aren’t satisfied with their normal existence.”

“Is anybody happy with their normal existence?” You questioned, sighing loudly as you sat back in the booth. He watched you for a moment, his eyes paying special attention to your rising chest as you started breathing heavily. He set his arm down on the table, laying his palm out as he looked up at you.

You stared at his exposed hand, a sudden remembering of your fingers intertwined in his car last night. He needed your touch, then. He needed a pull back to humanity, a remembrance that nobody is truly alone in this life. And now, you needed it. You needed somebody to hold your hand. And he knew.

You reluctantly placed your arm down on the table, looking around at the people in the place. No one was even paying the slightest attention to you. A rare moment where nobody cared who you were, or what you were doing. Your fingers moved towards his, and you grabbed on to him slowly. It was a slight touch, nothing that would be noticeable to anybody passing by. But it was enough for both of you. It was enough to mean something.

“I would like to think that everybody has a chance to be happy. It’s just a matter of finding your happiness.” His fingers moved closer to yours, his thumb slightly rubbing your fingers. You felt like you couldn’t breathe, his illicit touch sending sparks through your whole body.

“Alright, you guys ready to eat?” Your waitress cheerily interrupted, causing you to both instinctively rip your hands away and put them at your sides. It didn’t appear that she noticed anything but your heart was still racing and you could tell his was, too.

You ate your food quickly, avoiding eye contact with him as he nibbled on pieces of toast. You only seemed to have two types of moments with him; ones where neither of you could think of any words, or ones where words flowed out of you like a poet. You felt like you could tell him anything, but at the same time you were afraid to say anything.

“I think we should go,” he quietly muttered after you had finally finished a majority of your food.

“Um.. is everything okay?”

“This… this is really bad, Honey. What is happening now. It cannot be happening. I apologize for any inappropriate actions I’ve made since we’ve met. I would offer to step down and let someone else take this roll but I spent weeks training on how to protect you, and I don’t think you’d be safe with anyone else. I hope that’s okay with you.”

You stared at him in awe, a sick feeling overcoming your stomach. You shook your head for a moment, trying to think of the right words to respond with. He was right, this was stupid, and an extremely self destructive act. Besides, nothing had even really happened, and it was probably way better to shut things down now before it went any further. So much of you didn’t want it to end, didn’t want to not know what a life with him could be like. But you thought about your family, your life, and knew it wasn’t smart, or safe.

“You’re right, um, yeah. That's okay. I think it’s smart to keep you on, especially with the trip coming up.”

He nodded in agreeal, pushing his food away in disgust. You wondered if he felt just as sick as you did, just as heartbroken and miserable as you were. You knew one thing, for sure. That he was just as lonely and disappointed in life as you were. He was living in the same boat you were, and maybe that’s why you connected so easily. Sharing a common pain, it was easy to feel drawn to him. But you had to draw the line, as terrible as it was.

“Let’s go back home.”

The next few weeks went by uneventfully. There was nothing new to report on Hotch, or Aaron, as he now insisted you called him. There were no passing glances, no secret touches. You had both controlled yourself, and it was much easier than you thought. You were starting to wonder if the attraction was all circumstance, and there was nothing of real sustenance to your ‘relationship’. His touch still existed in your dreams, though. That was one place where you couldn’t control your thoughts. Every morning when you woke up, the thought of you in his dreams made you wonder.

Today was the day you finally left your trip, and you were flying out to San Francisco now. You sat eagerly in the airport, a crowd of men surrounding you, Aaron sitting at your side. He would accompany you in first class, and the rest of your night guards would scatter around coach to keep an eye on anyone suspicious. You had your headphones in, trying to distract yourself from the upcoming flight. You were quite a nervous flyer, and you were feeling exceptionally overwhelmed today. You couldn’t wait to get seated and have a drink, something to calm your nerves.

You were leaving pretty late, and would arrive pretty late as well. When you got in, you were all going straight to the hotel and preparing for your first presentation tomorrow. You boarded quickly, being one of the first allowed to get on the plane. Aaron held on to your carry on bags, and his, and followed you into the cabin. The rest of your guards stayed behind until it was their turn to board. Luckily, nobody had seemed to notice or recognize you on the flight, yet. You were hoping it would stay that way, as you were utterly exhausted and weren’t in the mood for small talk with a stranger today.

“You all buckled in?” Aaron asked as he placed your bags in the overhead storage bin.

“Yep, all safe and secure officer,” you giggled, leaning your head back in the large seat.

“Sounds good,” he smiled, taking his seat next to you and buckling himself in. You sat and scrolled through your phone mindlessly as the rest of the plane boarded, watching your night guards pass you by and give Aaron a slight thumbs up when they passed each other. You faked your way through listening to the emergency instructions, pleasing Aaron as he urged you to pay attention. The plane finally started moving and you settled into your seat, your nails digging into your palms as you prepared for the ascent.

Going up was always terrifying, but what you weren’t expecting was the turbulence as you headed into the sky. There was a storm coming in, and the pilot mentioned it might be bumpy until you get high enough. The shakiness was torture, but an unexpected drop in altitude made you jump and latch onto Hotch’s hand in instinct. Your fingers were locked with his, squeezing tight as the plane leveled out and you caught your breath.

“Sorry about that, folks,” the pilot spoke over the intercom, his voice light and cheery as if nothing just happened. “Should be clearing out of this storm in a minute or so. Keep buckled.”

You looked over to him, your hand still clutched in his, your heart finally coming to a normal rhythm. He was staring down at your hands, the remembrance of your touch sending him somewhere he was desperately avoiding.

“I’m… it was an accident, Aaron. I’m sorry,” you mumbled, trying to pull your hand from his, but his grip was locked around you.

“Nervous flyer?” He joked.

“Yes. I hate it.”

“I fly all the time,” he assured, your hand still in his. “You know you’re more likely to die in a car than a plane?”

“I’m not so much nervous about dying as I am getting stranded on an island like Lost.”

“Weren’t they all dead in the end, anyways?”

“I never got that far, but that still doesn’t sound ideal. The whole point of death is to not have to deal with life anymore.”

Your hands were still linked together, his thumb now tracing circles on the back of your hand. His leg moved closer to you until you were touching, the closest you two could possibly get while sitting in a plane. It was in that moment that you realized whatever you had been trying to avoid with him was no longer unavoidable. You had reached a new level of intimacy, a door was opened that could not be closed.

“Aaron…”

“I don’t like that. I like Hotch,” he teased, his eyes twinkling as they met the dim overhead lights of the plane.

“Hotch… are you sure you want to keep touching me?”

His eyes widened at your voice, and he instinctively ripped away his hand and pulled his leg from you. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to gather a thought.

“Do you want a drink?” You asked, trying to change the subject.

“I can’t, I’m working.” He turned forward and looked at the stared at the screen on the back of the seat. You decided not to say anymore, clearly realizing the moment had passed and there was nothing left to be said.��

A flight attendant came by shortly after and you finally got your well deserved drink. Hotch stayed silent, watching you sip the forbidden liquid and get slightly more calm with every sip. You had two more before finally falling asleep, the exhaustion of anxiety taking over. You woke up when you felt your ears pop as the plane began descending. You bolted up with alarm, Hotch watching you quietly. You couldn’t remember if he looked over at you after you woke up, or if he had been watching while you slept.

“We’ll be landing soon.”

“Can I have some gum?” You motioned to your ears, cringing in pain. Hotch handed you a stick of mint gum from his bag, which you chewed happily as you watched your descent into the night. The lights from the city were beautiful, and you felt extremely happy to be back doing what you love, in one of your favorite cities. You had always wanted to move here, but your father would’ve had a heart attack if you weren’t within 20 minutes of him.

The plane landed on the ground with a jolt, shaking you awake. You looked to Hotch, who was already turning his phone on to inform your family that you had landed safely. He spoke swiftly to your dad, assuring him that he would let him know when we arrived at the hotel. You watched his every move, the way his lips moved with such assurity at every word he spoke. He knew you, everything about you, truly. He was the one person in the world that was 100% dedicated to you. He would die for you. Holy shit. Maybe you had a bit too much to drink.

“You ready to go?”

“Uh, yeah, let’s.” You stood up quickly, without paying attention, and slammed your head right on the overhead. “Shit,” you groaned, holding on to your forehead in pain.

“Oh man,” Hotch mumbled, grabbing your waist and pulling you close to him. He reached his hand to your forehead and ran his thumb over the bump. He moved his hand down to your cheek, and looked down into your eyes.

“It’s a little red, but I think you’ll be okay,” he whispered, his lips dangerously close to yours.

“That’s good,” you mumbled, the tip of your nose brushing against his. You had placed your hand to his chest, playing with the buttons on the hem of his shirt.

He pulled away from you suddenly, shaking his head and taking a breath. He opened up the overhead and pulled out the bags, not looking at you once again. You felt your legs shaking, your heart beating, and your center throbbing at the thought of his lips. It took all of your strength to not pull him back to you and kiss him. But you couldn’t, not here, anyway.

You followed Hotch off the plane and stood at the gate for the rest of your men. Hotch didn’t say a word to you, only waited in authority for his men to meet him. He was their leader, they did everything he said. Watching him boss them around was kind of sexy, and you felt your body aching more and more for him. Finally the rest of your team came out and met up with you.

“I want you guys to wait for Honey’s bags then meet us back at the hotel. There will be cars waiting. I want her out of here as fast as possible, so we’re leaving now. Are we clear?” He nodded at them in clarification, and they all nodded back in agreement. They began walking towards baggage claim, and you followed Hotch the opposite direction.

“Where are we going?”

“Secret exit, there’s a car waiting for us there.” He walked steadily at your side, weaving through crowds and shielding you from oncoming people. A few people glanced to your direction with curiosity, most likely thinking “I know that girl from somewhere.” But Hotch rushed you out too quickly for anyone to fully remember you. You passed behind a guarded door, Hotch flashing his badge to the guards as they nodded at him and opened doors. You were rushed down a flight of stairs and out a back door, into the California night air. And as Hotch said, a black SUV with a driver you didn’t recognize was waiting for you.

“Who’s that?”

“One of my old men,Derek, a good friend. It’s not safe for me to be driving here. We're in good hands with him, though.”

Derek rolled down the window and greeted Hotch, a large smile of the man's face. “Nice to meet you, Miss. (Y/N). Welcome to my ride,” he laughed. Hotch opened the door for you and you stepped in the back, him following close behind. Derek started the car and began driving, flashing Hotch’s badge as you went through various gates to get back on the road. The partition was up in the car, blocking Derek’s eyes and ears from you and Hotch. You weren’t sure why he had it up, as most of your drivers usually leave it down until asked. Maybe he just assumed you would be having a confidential conversation or something, right?

“Thanks for getting me out safe, Hotch,” you teased, placing your hand playfully on his shoulder.

“Of course, Honey.” He turned towards you, his head tilted as he looked down to you. He rested his hand on your thigh, his thumb teasing your exposed flesh. You shivered at his touch, his hands cold against the warmth of your inner thigh. His fingers continued to trail up your flesh, toying with you as they moved slowly to where you craved him most. You moved your hips awkwardly, trying to get closer to him, trying to get him closer to you.

He started to play with the hem of your underwear, his thumb grabbing onto the fabric and brushing against your flesh. His other fingers slowly began to touch you, moving rhythmically over your clit. You sighed in relief, finally getting the much needed pleasure. You wanted more, you would’ve straddled him right then and there. But he quickly took his hand away, leaving you defeated and unsatisfied. You turned to him with a frown, only to find a smug grin plastered on his face.

“Later, Honey.” He whispered, his eyes locked on yours. You nodded, excitement overtaking you as you thought of what could happen next. You turned back forward and straightened yourself out, trying to catch your breath.

The rest of the drive was torture, craving someone so close. You didn’t know how much longer you could hold yourself together. Right as you were starting to convince yourself to just kiss him, you finally pulled up to the hotel. Derek parked in the entrance and got out of the car to open your door. He opened Hotch’s side, first, and shook his hand as he exited the car. You got out after him, declining for him to walk around and open your door, as well. Hotch had already grabbed the few bags you did have and was holding on to them tightly. You thanked Derek for driving you and assured him you would see him tomorrow. Hotch and him said their goodbyes, and then you followed him into the lobby of the hotel. You stayed behind as he checked you in, not trying to look too conspicuous.

Hotch walked back over to you and flashed the room keys. “Let’s get to your room, get you settled.”

You followed him to the elevator, which was an awkwardly silent ride. You rode up to the top floor, where the Presidential suite was, no doubt. Your father always insisted you had the nicest room in the place. It was a bit much, in your opinion, but it wasn’t worth arguing with him about things like that. The elevator finally came to a halt and opened its doors. Hotch left first and you followed him down the hall to one of the suites.

“Alright, here you go,” he said, handing you your key and dropping your bags to the floor.

“Uh, are you leaving me?” You questioned, your eyes wide with confusion.

“Relax,” he chuckled. “I’m right across the hall. I’m just gonna change, I always feel so gross after a plane. Why don’t you get ready for bed and I’ll check on you in a few minutes?”

“Alright,” you grumbled, disappointed that your night with Aaron was clearly ending here.

You opened the door to your room and brought your bags in, Hotch waiting for your door to close until he went into his own room. You laid down with a huff on the bed, sulking into the covers in frustration. What a fucking tease, you thought. You shook your head in anger and jumped off the bed, willing yourself to relax a bit before tomorrow.

You changed out of your clothes, stripping completely naked and throwing on your silk robe before you got in the shower. You started unpacking your toiletries, placing your obnoxiously expensive hair and skin care in the shower, ready for you to use at your convenience. You searched in frustration for your toothbrush, tossing things around your bags as you looked. You felt like you’d been searching for a half hour when a knock on the door through you from your search.

You stood up uncomfortably, realizing you were almost naked. You looked around for clean clothes, but were worried if you didn’t answer the door immediately one of those big-head guards would knock the door down. You groaned loudly and ran to the door, hoping to god you weren’t too exposed.

Hotch was standing in the doorway, a filthy grin on his face as you opened the door. You backed away from the door and he walked in, closing and locking the door behind him. He walked up to you, his body inches away from yours. He grabbed on to the sash of your robe, pulling at the end so that the loose knot would come undone. The front of the robe spilled open, exposing your nude front. Hotch brought his hands to your shoulders and grabbed onto the robe, pulling it completely off your body.

He brought his hand up to your chest, slowly caressing your breast and toying with your nipple. He ripped his shirt over his head aggressively, and then wrapped his arms around your waist. He pulled your face close to his and kissed you, a much needed kiss full of desperation. His tongue invaded your mouth forcefully, his body taking complete and total control of yours. His lips tasted like scotch, which he clearly drank pretty quickly in his room before coming over. Maybe he needed the courage, or maybe he needed to take the edge off. Either way, the taste made you crave a drink.

You started to push away from the kiss, planning to run to the mini bar and grab a bunch of bottles for the two of you. Hotch just chuckled, grabbed onto your wrist and pushed you on the bed.

“Hotch, I want a drink,” you giggled, trying to evade his grip.

“Not now, Honey. Now you want me,” he ordered, biting his lip as he looked down at you.

“Yes, sir,” you teased, blowing Hotch a kiss. He moved down lower and spread your legs, looking at you with a hunger in his eyes. He spit aggressively on your pussy, and then dragged his tongue across your entirety. He was lapping at your clit sloppily, your body jerking with pleasure as he shoved two fingers inside of you. He started to focus more with the tip of tongue, his fingers moving in perfect rhythm, arching as they went inside to hit your spot.

“Fuck,” you squealed, arching your back as your body was overcome with pleasure.

“Are you gonna cum, sweetheart? Are you gonna cum for me?” He growled, pouting his lips as he looked up at you.

“Yes, keep doing that,” you stuttered. A satisfied smile came over his face, and he went back to eating you out. He focused on your clit, his tongue stimulating it in ways you’d never experienced before. Your body was almost shaking as you finally reached your climax, Hotch licking you up as you finished. You went limp, for a moment, trying to catch your breath from your high.

“Turn around,” he instructed, slapping your thigh.

“I need a sec,” you muttered.

“Now. Turn around, now.” His glare was intimidating, but you could still see a gleam of light in his eyes. The dominance was something you hadn’t experienced yet, but it was turning you on wildly. You nodded at him, getting on your knees and bending over. He slapped your ass with a force, making you yelp with an equal mix of pleasure and pain. You could hear him chuckle behind your back, already feeling your skin raising where he marked you.

You heard him unbuckling his pants, and you’d realized you hadn’t seen his dick yet. You wanted to be surprised, though. You wanted to experience him for the first time inside of you. You felt him placing himself at your entrance, the tip of his dick playing with you. He started to slowly slide in, and you were uncomfortably shocked by his size and girth. You winced as he fit all of himself inside of you, feeling his length overtaking your whole body. He was by far the biggest you’d ever experienced, and you were taking a second to adjust.

“Oh, poor Honey,” he chuckled. “Am I too much for you?”

“No, I can handle it,” you replied in defiance. “Fuck me, Aaron. Fuck me.”

He laughed again, taking your instruction to heart and pounding himself in and out of you, fast. It was too much at first, feeling like he was breaking you. He was so much bigger than you, he could literally overcome you. You felt his presence watching your ass as he fucked you, realizing now how hot it was that he was so big.

“You have such a tight little pussy, I fucking love it,” he moaned, his nails digging into the flesh on your hips. His pumps were getting sloppier, each thrust you could feel his body getting more tense. He was twitching inside of you, and finally you felt his warm release fill you up. He stayed inside you a moment, both of you catching your breath. He pulled himself out and sat on the edge of the bed. You turned around and laid flat, staring breathlessly at the ceiling.

You heard the sound of a phone, and you winced as the comfort of the silence was broken. Hotch stood up, his naked body glowing like a statue in the low light. You took in his body, examined it like a piece of art, remembered every bit. You never wanted to forget him. You didnt think you could.

Hotch grabbed his phone and answered quickly. “What’s going on?... Alright…. Sounds good.” He ended the call and set the phone done on the desk.

“Get dressed, make the bed,” he requested, rather harshly.

“Ugh, cmon Hotch, can I just have a second?” You groaned, flopping to your side in exhaustion.

“Do I need to ask again? Get up, put your clothes on and make the bed. Now!” He barked. He was already searching the ground for his clothes, trying to put himself back together after unraveling with you. You got up and did as you were told, putting your robe back on and searching for pants. You made the bed to the best of the ability, although it wasn't really your strong suit. You shrugged, apologetic as Hotch gave you a disappointed look when he looked at your work.

A knock on the door prevented Hotch from lecturing you on your cleaning skills. He ran to the door and opened it to reveal the rest of your guards. They dropped your bags off in the entryway and shared a few words with Hotch. He turned to you and started to talk.

“First shift will start now. I’ll see you in the morning?��

“Of course.”

Hotch grabbed his phone and dialed a number, holding it to his ear. He waited a few seconds before the person on the other end answered.

“It’s me. Honey is secure. I’ll check in in the morning.”

#aaron hotchner #hotchner #hotch #hotch x reader #aaron hotcner x reader #criminal minds

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ofclaires · 4 years ago

Photo

IV. CLAIRE WALSH

PAST SELF PARAS: april 2020 / september 2020 / march 2021.

hi, before the read more i just wanted to say THANK YOU. getting to play claire has been absolutely a treat, a challenge, and genuinely, a huge part of my life for the past year and a half or so. it occurred to me when writing this and looking back at other things i’ve written for claire that i didn’t just feel like i was writing this for myself or for claire ; but i was writing it for you guys, too ! that has been one of the most special things about gallagher for me is the writing community that i feel like we built, taking such a huge investment in our characters and everyone else’s writing. i feel like i’m writing with and for some of my best friends. i also feel like i’ve grown so much ( ok, i actually don’t just feel like it, i can look back at those three paras and SEE how my writing has improved. ) i am so blessed to have gotten to write claire with all of you and to share her story, i feel like she has been so fucking beloved & it’s given her so much life. i am so proud of her and it’s really bittersweet that i’m finally saying goodbye to her as well. so, thank you all so, so much, gallagher has been a writing experience like no other for me & i love you all !

trigger warnings : domestic violence & abuse, death

PART ONE: CHILDHOOD.

The trailer that Claire spent the back half of her childhood in never felt like home. Maybe because trailers are made to be temporary, or the fact that if she accepted that this was where she belonged, she’d have to give up hope.

It’s normal Maggie Walsh to be out late, Claire’s usually cleaned up the kitchen and tucked herself into bed by the time her mother comes in the door – but she’s not sleeping. She’s always had trouble with that, brain bouncing around from one thought to the next until eventually she hears the creak of the door.

Her mom’s home.

She hears the usual stumbling, the clatter of dishes falling from where she’d neatly placed them on the drying rack. Maggie’s drunk, Claire’s sure of that. Ten years old and she knows what it means to be so drunk that you can hardly see straight, that the words you say under the influence are a different reflection from the person that you really are. She inhales deeply and crawls out from under the covers to check on her. Ten years old and she knows the steps: Help her take her makeup off, make sure she sleeps on her side, glass of water on the bedside table, trash can on the floor. Maggie is only twenty-six years old herself now, not done with her childhood by the time that Claire was born, not ready to be a mother. Claire’s had to figure it out most of it herself.

“Mom?” Claire knocks on the door lightly, plastic cup full of water already in hand.

“Don’t – don’t come in!” Maggie sputters, and Claire’s confused. She defies her request and opens the bedroom door the rest of the way. When she sees her mom, she drops the cup on the floor, small hands curling into fists.

“What happened? Who did that to you?”

“I told you not to come in here, Claire,” Maggie repeats, but Claire has always been on to disregard commands. She learns at a young age that authority only means older than you or some assigned title, not that they know best.

“Who did that? Why?” She repeats her questions. Despite being mature for her age, it’s hard for Claire to wrap her head around the black eye obscuring Maggie’s face, and the swelling on her cheek.

“It doesn’t matter,” Maggie sighs, dejected as she flops down on the bed. Even in her state, she knows that there’s not much use telling Claire to back off or go away once she’s decided that she’s not going to. Her little girl is a spitfire, strangely enough reminds Maggie a lot of her own mom, like living with a miniature version of her. Maybe that’s why Claire wins most arguments. “Come here.”

Claire walks closer to the bed, kicking the cup aside on her way for no reason other than to kick something. She crawls into bed next to her mom and looks up at her, waiting for more of an explanation or literally anything but silence.

“I don’t know why I keep looking for a happy ending. I leave you home alone, I come home like this...not helping either of us,” Maggie presses a kiss to the top of Claire’s head, runs her fingers through her daughter’s hair. It’s so soft and Claire is so little, she can’t help but look at the spilled cup on the floor with a pang of guilt. “I’m sorry,” she adds, voice choked up and words a little slurred. Tears squeeze out of the corners of her eyes when she closes them, hugging her daughter closer, “I’ve blamed you for my fucked up life for so long...that’s not fair.”

Now, Claire is only ten, but those are the kind of words that you remember forever. Still, she smiles. “It doesn’t have to stay fucked up. It can get better,” a childish spark of optimism in her heart that hasn’t yet been put out. It makes Maggie smile back though, kissing her daughter on the top of her head yet again.

“I like that,” she says, and they fall asleep curled up beside each other. Claire sleeps soundly, thinking that it’s possible. Things really could get better, and for a while, it seems like there really is a sort of shift. Maggie starts cooking, cleaning again, and she doesn’t even stay out so late. That’s when she meets Martin.

He seems better than the rest. Until he isn’t.

But Claire does her job as her mother’s protector, just as she’s been doing all of her life, and it’s that event that jumpstarts the rest of everything that happens next.

PART TWO: GRADUATION.

Claire’s come to the formal conclusion that graduation ceremonies are a waste of time. There’s all this build up, everyone’s so excited, and then you have to sit around and wait for your name to be called so you can spend two seconds walking across a stage while everyone claps. She would have skipped it entirely if her mother hadn’t already come up, and if she knew that people were going to insist. The small talk afterward is even more agonizing than the ceremony itself. It is sort of painful saying goodbye to everyone, and it occurs to Claire that there’s more people that she’s going to miss than she ever expected.

“Callum and his mother are here,” Maggie points out.

“And?” Claire rolls her eyes. Seeing Callum again to begin with had brought up a lot of old feelings, and generally, even though they’d resolved things, she tries to avoid him whenever possible.

“Well, it’s probably weird if we don’t say hello, at least, right? I’m going to say hello,” Maggie interjects, “he’s such a sweet boy.”

Claire’s eyebrows rise on her forehead as she crosses her arms over her chest. “Go ahead then,” she sighs, “I’ll wait right here.”

“Claire,” Maggie draws out her name with a withering stare, but Maggie has never been able to establish that sort of authority with Claire that would prompt any inclination of obedience, so Claire just shrugs her shoulders, unimpressed. She’s not going to budge. “Fine, I’ll be right back.”

Claire’s done her best to put the chapter of their life that includes Martin out of her mind when rekindling things with her mother, and she certainly doesn’t want to stand around making small talk with his other ex-wife, trying not to look at Callum with his matching jawline, trying not to remember everything she hates. It all comes back in a flash. The horrible cracking sound that her mother’s head had made when it connected with the wall, the blood on the marble floor. They say you don’t remember trauma properly, that your memory doesn’t work quite right, but she will never forget the way her fist connected with Martin’s face : like a puzzle piece, like it BELONGED there, and she’d done it over and over again until she heard sirens.

And yet, Claire can’t deny that it’s a part of her life that got her here, where she is today. She thinks life is shitty and random, and that not everything has to happen ‘for a reason.’ Still, she’ll catch Kass’s eye across the room and see her smiling so brightly that it seems impossible not to believe in something. Claire can’t help herself anyway – she smiles back. No one has ever been able to produce Claire’s smile in its truest form the way Kass has, unashamed of being so happy to look at someone. She once thought the idea of looking at a person and seeing your whole future was ridiculous, that you’d have to be stupid to put that much of yourself into someone, but it isn’t like that at all. All of it was unintentional, like by the time she realized it, Kass was already everything. And she feels so safe with that thought that she doesn’t mind at all.

“Am I interrupting something?” A figure steps in front of her, cutting off her line of sight. She’s not really fond of being snuck up on, so she opens her mouth to say something snarky when she’s met with the gaze of Lisanna Harlin, one of last year’s mentors. Her daughter, Elisa, is there, but she’s not graduating, so Claire’s confused by Lisanna’s presence.

“No, Ms. Harlin,” Claire says, though there’s a spark of indignation in her words that practically goes hand in hand whenever an adult commands authority.

“Lisanna is fine,” she says with a light laugh, like she’s amused Claire’s greeted her this way.

“Can I...help you with something?” Claire asks, mostly curious about how long this interaction has gone on. While she’s friendly with Elisa, she was Kass’s roommate last year, they’re not exceedingly close, so she’s not sure what else Lisanna would have to say to her other than maybe a polite hello.

It’s more than a polite hello. Lisanna Harlin works for Lexon Corp in Durham, North Carolina, a private military company that provides armed guards, bodyguards, and guns for hire. They’re the sort of place that would be looking for the best of the best in combat, and they have a bit of a reputation for hiring Gallagher girls. Claire had given up on the job search months ago since the video went out, in fact, she’s had a job lined up for graduation already : at a boxing gym in D.C., where the scene isn’t too bad. It was suited to her, but not exactly the sort of thing that her Gallagher education had prepared her for. Lexon Corp? Everything her rigorous love of January boot camps were tailored to. And they want to interview her.

A month later, Claire’s sitting on the cusp of a completely fresh start. It wasn’t easy to backtrack on the plans that she and Kass had made together, knowing how much was changing for the both of them, it had been nice to have the stable idea of an apartment together on the horizon. Now, she’s a four hour drive away, and she goes home to her one-bedroom studio in Durham after rigorous training throughout the day. But she’s grateful for the chance to work her way back into the field, and she can remember what Lisanna said to her when they gave her the offer.

“We’re aware that with your history that we’re taking a chance on you, Claire,” Lisanna said. “But we think the reasons that made other agencies look past you are exactly what makes you an asset. You care about your jobs, the people that you’re involved in, and you’d have a partner’s back until the bitter end. You listen to your intuition, trust your gut...and above all else, you have follow-through. I’m excited to be able to offer this position. Don’t prove me wrong.”

Claire swears that she won’t.

PART THREE: KIPTYN.

Kiptyn isn’t supposed to be in the left hall closet.

In fact, he’s not supposed to be awake at all. But who can sleep the night before their birthday anyway? Sure, he’ll be thirteen, and that’s probably old enough to have gotten over the magic of it all, but...he’d still been lying awake with excitement, the anticipation keeping his eyes open for hours on end. Well, that and the video game he’d been playing under the covers, but he’d obviously only been playing it because he couldn’t sleep in the first place.

Then he started thinking about the left hall closet and the conversation that they had at dinner the other night. In Kiptyn’s defense, Dahvia – his younger sister – had totally started it and he was an innocent bystander. After all, Kiptyn’s old enough to know that they don’t bring up Claire to mom, because it just puts her in a mood and then you can forget about doing anything else for the rest of the evening. But Dahvia’s ten, practically a baby, and she doesn’t know any better.

“Hey, mom? What sort of accident did Claire die in? Nina asked me at recess and I didn’t know,” Dahvia pipes up, before she’s even properly sat down. Kip visibly cringes. He’s older, wiser, knows this won’t go well. Still, he dares to look at his mom’s face and he notes the faraway look in her eye, like she seems to experience a bunch of things at once. Kip notices how even though her eyes are glassy, she doesn’t cry. Though sometimes, their mom will just cry randomly, like two weeks ago when he asked for help with his Spanish homework and she couldn’t even help him finish the first worksheet.

“It was a car accident,” she says stiffly, “eat your dinner.”

Kiptyn kicks his sister under the table and flashes her a look that says : Great. Look what you did, ruined dinner. Dahvia sticks her tongue out at him.

So, he knows that he’s not supposed to be in the left hall closet because he could ruin many more dinners, but he’s here anyway. He’s been thinking about it ever since they sat in silence for the rest of that half hour, and he’s come to the conclusion – his mother was lying. Because all sorts of things make their mother cry, like a bowl of mac and cheese or Spanish class, or motorcycles, and she won’t let Kiptyn take boxing lessons though his friend Robert is and he thought it sounded really cool, but she doesn’t have any problem with cars or driving, and also, she’s never told them a single thing about Claire except that. They aren’t allowed to know anything about her, especially not anything true, so Kiptyn is pretty sure that’s a lie. There’s just something just weird about it.

So, in the middle of the night before his thirteenth birthday, he looks up a video on how you pick locks and then he figures it out on the door of the left hall closet. He’s there for at least forty-five minutes, practically ready to give it all up when he hears the clicking sound, and then it opens. His first thought is : Woah. This is a load of junk.

And he’s right. There’s boxes upon boxes of paperwork, old clothes. Some things start to click, like when he finds a pair of worn boxing gloves with Claire’s initials embroidered on them. His favorite thing that he finds is the fattest scrapbook he’s ever seen – his mom always makes them, there’s one for every year of his life. Dahvia’s too, they love looking at them. The cover of this one, though, says Italy 2021. It’s all pictures of his mom and Claire, probably in their early twenties. Kiptyn mostly notices his mother’s smile, how he’s only seen her look like that a couple times in his life and yet it looks so EASY here, like she wears it all the time. It’s so strange to him. He sets the scrapbook down and crawls toward the back of the closet. His eyes land on two leather folders with gold embroidery, and he opens up the first one. In big letters at the top : GALLAGHER ACADEMY.

It’s a diploma.

This certifies that Kassandra Sutton has satisfactorily completed the…

“What are you doing?”

Kiptyn yells out like a child, not having heard anyone creeping up on him. He claps his hand over his mouth as if to shush himself. “The door was open! I don’t know how, but I just...noticed it was open and wanted to make sure that...no one was stealing your stuff!” he grins sheepishly, hoping that he can ride on the high of his birthday week to get him out of this one.

“It was just...open?” his mother looks down at him with raised eyebrows before brandishing a twisted paper clip between two fingers. The one that had formerly been stuck in the door. His guilty expression widens, he can’t help it.

“Okay, I might know how it opened,” Kiptyn admits. He hesitates for a moment, before he realizes that he’s ALREADY in trouble, he might as well just come out with it and pray to the birthday gods. He holds up the diploma with her name on it : “What’s Gallagher Academy?”

Kass’s sigh is heavy and deep, accompanied by the amount of exhaustion that comes with raising two curious kids by herself. After Claire died, she moved her family to London to be closer to their aunt and away from everything that reminded her of Claire. She never told her children why. From hiding that world from them, the world that took so many people from her : her father, her ex-girlfriend, and the love of her life. She swore that she would never lose her children to it, too. But Kiptyn looks up at her with wide eyes, desperate to know about his mother and his past, and Kass also knows what it’s like to have part of yourself missing due to family secrets that are being kept from you. He is practically a teenager now. So, she relents.

Kass doesn’t go into all of the details, of course. Just that Gallagher Academy was a school for spies, and that’s where it all started. Kiptyn already knew that his moms met in college, so it’s the spy part that’s most interesting to him. She talks about Claire with a light in her eyes he’s unfamiliar with, how she was one of the best fighters in their year, that she grew up with such a talent in the ring that she probably could’ve gone pro if her life had gone in a different direction. She talks about how they had to part ways after graduation, because Claire got a job in North Carolina and she got a job in Washington, DC, but they made it work, and both got very accustomed to the four hour drive – though it was sometimes closer to three for Claire, because she always drove too fast, even on this big, black motorcycle which Kass swears that she hated. She tells Kiptyn about how they got married, the way she’d almost moved to England for a dream job and that long distance threatened to drive them apart again – until Claire chased her down in the airport with a ring and proposal.

She also talks about how Claire really died : the abridged version. It was an overseas mission where they’d been cornered, and Claire risked her life to save the rest of their team. There were no other casualties, and the information they were able to bring back helped stop the terrorist organization they’d been chasing to end them for good. Kass tells the abridged version for her son, gives Claire a hero’s death. In some ways, it was. She doesn’t mention the ways that Claire was consumed by the case, it was an organization hellbent on killing spies and it likely reminded her of the brotherhood. Kass had been worried about the case the whole time, because it felt like Claire was taking it too personally. In the end, she may have been right : because Claire had let it take her life in order to close it. She also doesn’t mention that such a sacrificial death means that her wife died fighting alone, swinging her fists until her very last breath. But still, she was all alone.

She had no choice but to take her kids as far away from that life as possible.

Kiptyn tries, but he doesn’t really remember Claire. He’d only been three years old when she passed away, and before then, she’d been so consumed by her last case that she was barely present. Still, he thinks she sounds badass.

He falls asleep on his mother’s shoulder that night, looking through the scrapbook of pictures from their trip to Italy in 2021. He’s animated for the first part, pointing out buildings and asking questions, wonders if Claire was sweating in all that leather, but he slowly starts to drift off. He wakes up on the couch the next morning, no trace of the book or any of the other papers he’d hauled out of the closet the night before. He looks at the closet and there’s an extra padlock. Figures.

It comes up in little ways, like a private joke that he has with his mother, like she’ll say something and flash him a secretive smile. He likes that, and he understands that this is a big secret that he has to keep. It doesn’t come up again until his fourteenth birthday the next year, the summer before high school. It’s a strange letter in a manila envelope, sealed with some expensive red wax, his name written in fancy calligraphy. The most attention-grabbing part, however, is not Kiptyn Sutton-Walsh in big cursive letters. It’s the return address :

GALLAGHER ACADEMY.

learn her skills, honor her sword. keep her secrets.

#*#self para

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officialleehadan · 4 years ago

Text

Introducing Flame

Today's story was brought to you by Jennifer! Darling, this was a loot of fun, and I can't wait to see whaere this series goes int he future!

Prompt: a character prompt for Capability Seen.

+++

“I called in some help,” Shieldwall told Natalie. He had officially been her bodyguard for three days now, prevented two more attempts to nab her, and still hadn’t asked what she and Mister Gold had talked about behind closed doors. “Talked to your boss. Told him I wanted a woman on your detail in case you need or want to go somewhere that guys aren’t welcome.”

“I’m not letting a bodyguard watch me pee,” Natalie said, since there were things she would put up with to not get kidnapped again, and there were things she wouldn’t. “But I guess at least one more person making sure I don’t’ get nabbed would be nice. Who do you have in mind?”

“Another of the ‘left to die’ crowd in the Powered community,” he replied, apparently involved in working on some of his gear. He spent a truly impressive amount of time fiddling with his little buts of tech, but Natalie had seen him in a fight, now, and she knew just how useful and important all of it was. His Power, as his name implied, was to create walls of force whenever he wanted. Not, Natalie supposed, that they were always walls. He seemed to be able to make them appear in whatever shape or configuration he wanted, including as shield bubbles around himself, or around her. “Phoenix is a little crazy, but she’s good people.”

“Ringing endorsement. Crazy?”

“Thinks she’s actually a phoenix and that when she dies, she’ll be reborn from the ashes.”

“Is she right?”

“No idea. As far as I know, she’s never tried it.”

Well, that might be a problem later, but Natalie wasn’t going to worry about it right now. Not when there was a crazy villain who, Mister Gold suspected, knew about her Power.

Her Power. The probable cause of all the drama. Damn it all, Natalie didn’t want to have a Power. Powers were always trouble. She wanted to be a nobody, thank you very much.

But no. Her father had been a Somebody. One of the most powerful heroes on record, apparently. He had been able to duplicate other Powers after seeing them a single time. He died stopping a massive villain attack that would have killed millions. Natalie wasn’t sure how she felt about it. About the man who she could barely even remember, who had given her more than just a stubborn chin and a pair of blue eyes.

And now Natalie had a Power. His legacy carried in her genetics, so well hidden that no one but Mister Gold ever knew it was there. A Power that the entire Powered community would kill to possess.

She enhanced other Powers.

It wasn’t the flashy sort of Power. It wasn’t a save-or-doom the world sort of power wither, or even one she could consciously do anything with. It was just there, in the background, doing its thing on any Power who got close enough for long enough.

“So when does your friend get here?” Natalie asked, since talking about her Power seemed like a no-go. She liked Shieldwall, but so far, he hadn’t offered his real name, and she hadn’t asked for it. He was a great boyfriend so far, but she just became the Powered community’s new Most Valuable Player, and that wasn’t a secret she was ready to share. “Seems like a big step, meeting your friends.”

“Perhaps soon, I’ll meet some of yours,” he said with a wink. “Nix is on her way. Should be here any minute.”

“If that’s not an entrance line, I don’t know what is.”

Natalie looked up in time to see a slight woman step through the door. Like Shieldwall, she was dressed in dark tactical clothing. The normal kind, not the kind that Powers usually favored. She wasn’t armed, however, which told Natalie that she was a Power herself. Her hair was short and flaming red, and burn scars crept up her neck and across one cheek.

“Natalie, this is Phoenix Flame,” Shieldwall introduced the new arrival and stood to clasp hands with the woman. “Nix, this is Natalie, my girlfriend and the person I called you about. Frost Orchid is after her. I could use some help keeping her safe, and I’d be happier if it was a woman.”

Phoenix was quiet and gave Natalie a slow, measured look. There was a little hint of something crazy in her eyes, but Natalie had never been bothered by a little crazy. Shieldwall trusted this woman. Trusted her enough to call her, even given his granddaddy of all trust issues. That told Natalie what kind of person Phoenix was.

“You seem cool. We can hang,” she said brightly and proffered a hand to shake. Phoenix blinked once, apparently bemused, but shook her hand and nodded to herself. Natalie noticed that the same burn scars on Phoenix’s neck were echoed on her hands, and that her hands were callused from whatever training she did. She was also just a little too hot for a normal human, which probably meant she was a pyro of some flavor. Made sense, what with the name. “I’m Natalie. Mild-mannered secretary and apparently new hot topic for the Baddies Convention.”

“Just the one, we hope,” Shieldwall laughed, used to her irreverence by now, and just amused at her antics. Phoenix chuckled, but she sat when Natalie waved at a couch across from her. “So, what do you think. You in?”

“Guess you could probably talk me around. I want my usual fee, plus extras if we hit combat with more than two other Powers at the same time,” Phoenix said with a half-grin. She let flames play over her hands, confirming Natalie’s guess about her Power. “So, Frost Orchid. I owe her some pain. What’s got her panties in a bunch, and how can I make it worse?”

+++

Capability Seen:

Clink Zap

Twenty Questions (Subscriber Only!)

Not a Drill

Chase Music (Subscriber Only!)

Hide Out Freak Out (Subscriber Only!)

Call Home (Subscriber Only!)

Office Revelations (Subscriber Only!) (NEW!)

Introducing Flame (NEW!)

+++

MASTERLIST

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mint-yooxgi · 6 years ago

Text

False Alarm - Yandere!Ten X Reader X Yandere!Taemin

Yandere!AU & Bodyguard!AU - based off of these teaser photos and loosely inspired by False Alarm by The Weeknd

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Smut (Not a threesome, but someone gets pinned to a wall 👀)

Pairing: Taemin X Reader X Ten

Words: 28,650

Warnings: This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: On the fifth day of ficmas, Jackie gave to me~ It’s here~ Three months in counting holy shit. This is now the longest one shot I have ever written in my life, so I do really hope you all like it. I’m very proud of it! Here I was, thinking this would be maybe 10k at the most, but nope, lmaoo. Don’t mind any spelling mistakes that have made it past countless rounds of editing please, or any grammar mistakes lol. As always, I do not believe Taemin, nor Ten, would act like this, this is just my interpretation of the archetype. Please do let me know what you all think about this one, and as always, feedback is greatly appreciated. Enjoy!

It shouldn’t surprise you anymore; by now, you should be used to it. Being the president’s daughter and all. Assassination attempts that is. However, you still cannot help the chill in your veins when certain incidents take place.

Surprisingly, there haven’t been too many attempts on your father’s life, but more recently, they have been increasing, becoming more dangerous each time. It started getting more serious when they started coming after your mother. Now, they’re even coming after you.

You have a feeling they have something to do with the new law your father is trying to implement on taxing the rich, as well as establishing a tighter hold on the underground markets. He wants to strengthen gun control, and create a more peaceful nation, but unfortunately, there are always those that oppose such ideals.

It’s early in the afternoon when your father calls you downstairs and into the first floor study.

The first thing you notice as soon as you reach the main floor, is the amount of security now in your house. You’re glad that you have the added protection, but you hope your privacy won’t be affected too much.

Entering the study after knocking gently, your gaze is immediately drawn to the two unfamiliar men standing on either side of your father, who is currently sitting behind his antique desk. You see Siwon, your father’s personal guard, standing off to the side. Sending a nod his way, you see him nod back before you move your gaze to your father, locking eyes with him in the next second. Understanding crosses your features.

“Given the recent events, I can gather from your expression that you’ve already put together what I’m about to say,” your father begins, letting out a sigh as you stand before him, the two unfamiliar men staring you down.

“I can only assume until you tell me the truth,” you reply, quirking your brow at your father.

“You certainly got your mother’s wit, that’s for sure,” he chuckles, looking at you with amusement clear in his eyes.

“Damn, I could have sworn I got it from you,” you tease, a smirk pulling at your lips.

“Anyways,” your father clears his throat, becoming serious once more, “(Y/n), I’d like you to meet your two new bodyguards, Taemin,” he motions to the blond man standing at attention to his left, “and Ten.” He motions to the black haired man standing off to his right. “They will be accompanying you everywhere starting today, for your protection.”

“Understood,” you nod at your father, shifting your attention to each men standing to either side of him as you bow your head slightly. “It’s nice to meet the both of you, thank you for agreeing to be my personal bodyguards.”

They nod back to you, remaining silent as your father continues to talk, “their first priority is keeping you safe, no matter what the cost. Do you understand?”

“Yes, father,” you respond, bowing in respect towards him.

“Good,” he nods, watching as you stand back up. “That is all I wanted to talk to you about, so you’re free to go now.”

With a final nod towards your father, and a brief nod towards Siwon once more, you’re exiting the room, the two new men following you closely. Nothing is said between the three of you as you lead them through your house and to your bedroom. After all, you still have some studying to do for your classes tomorrow.

Once you reach your room, you leave the door open for them to follow you in, noticing how the door falls shut behind Ten after he enters the room. You walk back to your desk where your laptop rests, with a few notebooks and textbooks scattered around it. Waking it from sleep, you sit back down in your chair, wanting to focus back in on this assignment that’s driving you up the wall.

Ten minutes pass by, and you can feel their gazes locked on your back. You know they haven’t stopped staring at you since you left your father’s study, and it’s irritating you. You find it hard to focus when you can feel someone watching you; feeling as if they’re breathing down your neck.

Letting out a sigh, you turn around in your chair to face the two men standing guard by your door.

“Are you guys just going to stand there and stare at my back the whole time?” You question, clear irritation in your voice as your brow quirks.

“It’s what we’ve been instructed to do,” Taemin replies, expression blank as he continues to stare at you.

“That’s cool and all, but you’re making me slightly uncomfortable in my own room,” you sigh once more. “At least sit down and make yourselves at home. Knowing my dad, you’re probably going to be living with us from now on, or at least on certain days. Besides, if you’re going to be with me from now on, practically twenty-four seven, the least you can do for yourselves is get comfortable.”

They say nothing at first, instead looking at each other briefly from the corner of their eyes, having a silent exchange between one another before coming to a silent agreement. Taking your advice, they both move to the little sitting area you have in your room, Ten sitting on the couch while resting his one leg over the cushions and his one arm off the back of the couch, while Taemin chooses to sit in one of the armchairs.

You turn back around, and even though you can tell they’re still keeping their eyes on you, their gazes aren’t as intense as before. The air in the room feels slightly less tense now, and you find you can now concentrate better on your assignment.

About an hour passes by, and you’re able to finish your assignment. Letting out a relieved sigh, you close your laptop after hitting submit, gathering all your books together to stack them neatly on your desk. Once you’re done, you swivel around in your chair to face them, eyes shining in curiosity. You wait for one of them to say something, but after about two minutes of silence, you realize you’re going to have to be the one to break it.

“Damn, if I wanted it to be this quiet I would have gone to the library,” you joke, noticing how one of Ten’s eyebrows twitch in slight amusement.

“We just wanted to make sure you had peace and quiet while you worked,” he replies, rolling his neck slowly with his eyes closed.

“That’s all fine and dandy, but I’m done now,” you smile, attempting to ease some of the silent tension that still permeates the air, “and considering we’re going to be spending an awful amount of time with each other, why don’t you guys tell me about yourselves. What’s your favourite colour? Animal? Food? What do each of you specialize in? Have you two worked together before?”

“You certainly ask a lot of questions, don’t you?” Taemin replies, slight amusement in his tone as his eyes trail over your body, analyzing you carefully.

“Questions are the curiosities of the mind,” you quip, meeting his eyes and challenging his stare.

You hear Ten let out a laugh, shifting his position to sit forward on the couch, resting his elbows on his knees, “and we’ll answer all of your curiosities to the best of our abilities.”

You shoot him a friendly smile, to which he smirks back at you.

“Well, to start off, we’re brothers,” Ten continues, noticing how your eyes widen slightly.

“Adoptive brothers,” Taemin adds. “So, we’ve pretty much spent every case that we can working together.”

“He’s an expert marksman,” Ten motions to Taemin with his head. “I’ve never seen him miss once.”

“That’s because I don’t,” Taemin remarks smugly. “He’s a master at close quarters combat, no one has ever been able to pin him.”

“Give me a blade and it’s game over,” Ten replies, smirk still evident on his features as he leans back into the couch.

“Noted,” you nod, clearly impressed with what they’ve told you so far. “Remind me to never challenge you in a game of darts,” you joke, locking eyes with Taemin briefly before turning your gaze over to Ten, “and remind me not to challenge you to an arm wrestling match.”

At your words, both of them let out small chuckles.

“So, if you were worried we weren’t qualified to protect you, you don’t need to be troubled about it any longer,” Ten grins, and you roll your eyes playfully.

“As if,” you huff. “The aura the two of you give off when you’re together, not to mention individually, is very intimidating. I never once doubted your capabilities. Besides, I know my dad, and he’d only hire the best people that he believes are capable of protecting us.”

You see them both nod their heads slightly in understanding, noticing how as you’ve been talking, they’ve both seemed to relax a bit more.

For the next hour and a half, the three of you continue getting to know each other. The both of them are impressed with you, their original ideas of you being stuck up and full of yourself since you’re the president’s daughter, now being thrown out the window.

Before they met you, they were both a little hesitant to take this job. The risks aren’t what bothers them, no, it’s the fact that they’d have to spend almost twenty-four hours with you, seven days a week. They were expecting you to be completely different, but from what they’ve gathered, you’re a sassy, kind, intelligent woman who is very aware of her surroundings. Now, they’re both glad they’ve taken this job, for they both cannot wait to spend more time with you, and get to know you even better. Besides, it pays well, too.

Soon enough, you’re being called downstairs for dinner, the two of them following behind you silently. Once you reach the dining room, you take your seat and wait for dinner to be served. You make light conversation over dinner with your parents, fully enjoying this time with them for you all rarely sit down together anymore for a meal like this, given how busy they both are. It warms your heart.

“Don’t forget we have that lecture event at your university in two days’ time,” your mother reminds you.

“I know, mom,” you reply, taking a sip of your drink.

“I can’t wait to embarrass you in front of your entire school,” your dad teases, a light chuckle escaping his lips.

“Dad,” you whine, playing along, “please don’t do anything to ruin my reputation.”

“What reputation?” He jokes, wiggling his eyebrows at you, making you scoff in mock offence.

“Don’t worry dear, I’ll just make sure to give a ten minute rant on how awful your snoring is,” your mother interjects, causing both you and Siwon, who is standing off to the side with Taemin and Ten, to snicker. Even Natasha, your mother’s personal bodyguard lets out a few chuckles of her own.

“Betrayed by my own wife,” your father shakes his head, letting out a few more chuckles of his own.

“Don’t worry, sweetie,” your mom winks at you, “I got your back.”

“Thanks, mom,” you giggle, finishing the remnants of your drink.

Gathering your now empty dishes, you stand up, excusing yourself from the table and thanking your parents for the meal. Moving off to the kitchen, you place your dishes in the sink, and head back to your room for the evening, noticing your two bodyguards following your every movement once more.

Before you reenter your room for the evening, you turn to the two men standing behind you.

“The two of you should eat something,” you say, noticing how Taemin’s brow twitches slightly at your words. “Don’t even think about arguing, you both need to eat. I’ll be fine in my room for the evening, so get some rest afterwards.”

You can see Ten about to protest before Taemin cuts him off, “as you wish.”

With a slight bow of their heads, they’re moving off back down the hall to grab something for dinner.

Opening the door to your room, a small sigh escapes your lips. Closing the door behind you, you rest against it, thoughts swirling through your mind.

Those two can be really intimidating at times, and you get the sense they were very hesitant about you at first. You know it’s their job to protect you, but you’re slightly worried they might not follow their duties fully if they don’t like you very much.

You shake your head to clear your thoughts. Your father would only choose the best people he thought appropriate to protect you, and you trust his judgement. From what you’ve gathered, these two men take their jobs very seriously. You just hope you can get them to open up a bit more, and not be so intimidating, at least, towards you. After all, you want to be able to befriend them. Who knows how long you’ll need them for.

Meanwhile, the two of them move around each of their new respective rooms, unpacking. They share a joint bathroom, of which the doors rest open, so the two of them can converse with one another.

“She seems nice,” Ten comments, hearing Taemin hum from the other room.

“Definitely not what I was expecting,” comes Taemin’s reply.

“One of our better clients, wouldn’t you say?”

“Better than the last one, at least,” Taemin rolls his eyes, slamming the drawer to his dresser shut. “That one was a real piece of work.”

“You can say that again,” Ten huffs, shutting the door to his closet once he’s finished hanging some shirts.

“Still, this one…” Taemin trails off, seemingly looking for the right word as Ten walks into his room, “she’s almost endearing in a way.”

“Her mannerisms are cute, yes,” Ten nods, leaning against the desk in Taemin’s room as Taemin sits on the edge of his bed, the both of them now finished unpacking.

“Nothing like anything we’ve seen before,” Taemin hums, a grin pulling on his lips.

“Don’t tell me you’re interested in our new client,” Ten teases, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“No, no,” Taemin replies, eyes darting over to look at his brother. “Not at all.”

“Good, cause we both know how that turned out the last time,” Ten shakes his head.

The last time either one of them got involved with a client in that way, it ended with the other one of them almost dying. Since then, they’ve agreed not to get too attached to their clients. Hence their cold and intimidating nature. Well, those aspects also come along with the discipline, but even more so now.

Bidding each other a final good night, Ten retreats back into his own room for the evening. Tomorrow is a new day, and they have to be well rested if they’re going to protect you to the best of their abilities.

The next morning, you wake up early to get ready for your classes. Luckily, you only have two, so you should be home some time in the early afternoon.

Once you’ve finished getting ready for the morning, you make your way downstairs. As soon as you open your bedroom door, you see both Ten and Taemin standing guard on the opposite side of your door, startling you slightly.

“Holy- how long have you guys been standing there?” You ask, shutting the door behind you as you pull your bag over your shoulder.

“Not long,” Ten assures you.

“An hour,” Taemin says at the same time, making you blink.

Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you continue your trek downstairs, the two of them now following you closely from behind.

Walking into the kitchen, you see your mother making something for breakfast before she leaves with your father for the day. Sending you a smile, she plates the food before placing it in front of you.

“Thanks, mom,” you say, sending a smile back at her as she places the dishes in the sink before giving you a quick kiss on the forehead and leaving the room, Natasha following behind her silently after sending you a small smile.

Eating silently, you scroll through your phone, checking what you’ve missed since last night. You love your friends, but having some in different timezones can make the group chat read like the morning paper at times.

Noticing the time, your eyes widen slightly as you realize that if you don’t leave soon, you might be late for your first class. Shoving the last remnants of food into your mouth, you quickly stand up, placing your dishes in the sink while grabbing your bag which you had placed beside you on the other chair.

Heading to the garage, you grab your keys, ready to unlock your car and get into the driver’s seat. However, before you can open the car door, a hand quickly snatches your keys out of your hand.

“Hey!” You complain, frowning as you see Taemin now holding your keys.

“Get in,” he motions to the back, where on the other side, Ten already waits to get in with you. “We’ll be driving you to and from school from now on, and attending all of your classes.”

“Well damn, thanks for the warning,” you huff, taking a step back from the driver’s side in order to get into the back of the vehicle.

He says nothing in response, only choosing to open the driver’s side door and get in, a slight raise to his lips.

The whole ride over to your university is silent, Taemin pulling into the first free parking space when you arrive. The whole time, you’ve been texting your two friends in your first class to meet you just outside the lecture hall, to which they agree.

Getting out of the car, Taemin cuts the engine. You can feel the other student’s eyes on you as you walk towards Building C, flanked by your two new bodyguards. You can hear the whispers of the others as you walk past, but you don’t let it bother you; you’re used to it by now, being the president’s daughter and all.

Entering the building, you see your two friends anxiously waiting for you near the entrance of the lecture hall.

“There you are! Hurry up, the lecture is about to start!” Jongin complains, opening the door to the lecture hall and tugging Ayla along with him, you following close behind.

Checking the time, you roll your eyes slightly, “relax, we still have ten minutes.”

“Yeah, Jongin, relax,” Ayla huffs, amusedly. “We’ve got time. I’d just be worried about not finding good seats.”

“Oh, boo hoo,” you tease, “just because we won’t be able to sit in the front doesn’t mean we won’t get good seats.”

Walking into the main section of the lecture hall, you spot some seats in the second row of the back section, leading the way as the four of them follow you. You’ve noticed that since you’ve entered the lecture hall, most people’s conversations have halted, especially since two new males have walked in with you.

“Who are those two new guys with her?” You overhear someone whisper.

“Damn, I guess being the president’s daughter means you can get whatever guys you want nowadays,” another whispers as you all make it to your seats. Taemin and Ten share a look, sitting to your right.

“Isn’t she with Damien?” Someone else adds.

“What a fucking slut,” you overhear from a few rows over, the harshness in their voice making you suck in a breath.

“That’s it,” Ayla growls, slamming her palms on the table in front of her and preparing to stand up.

“Relax, it’s fine,” you say, gripping her arm to make sure she stays seated and doesn’t do anything drastic.

“No. It’s not,” she counters, Jongin nodding his agreement from beside her. “One of these days those fuckers are going to catch these hands.”

“Thanks, boo,” you send her a small smile.

“Besides, anyone with a brain knows you’re literally the best,” Jongin adds, to which you smile at him.

“Thanks guys,” you say, turning your attention to the front of the room after pulling out your supplies, seeing as how the professor is about to start the lecture.

For the first half of the lecture, you can feel both Ten’s and Taemin’s eyes on you, before shifting their gazes around the room, carefully observing everyone and everything. You fail to notice the slight furrow in their brows the whole time, confused, and slightly concerned, about you.

At the end of your first class, you’re bidding farewell to Jongin and Ayla, who walk away hand in hand after waving goodbye to you. A slight smile is on your face, sorrowful in a way, as you watch them walk away. You could not be more happy for them being together, but it just reminds you of your nonexistent love life. Being the president’s daughter can have its downsides.

Sighing, you begin moving off to your second, and final, class for the day, located in Building A. You walk in silence, the two men following behind you and serving to intimidate anyone who walks in your path.

Checking your phone just before entering the building, a small smile lights up your face. Damien’s already in class waiting for you, and he’s saved you a seat.

Entering the class, you see an excited Damien waving at you enthusiastically. Waving back, you make your way over to the seat he’s saved for you, noticing that Ten and Taemin will have to sit directly behind you if they want to stay close to you. For that, you’re kind of grateful. Having them next to you in your first class was kind of distracting, especially since they were staring at you for half of it. Luckily, this class is much smaller than your first, so they won’t be able to draw too much attention to themselves. However, it still doesn’t stop the whispers from forming at the mouths of the other students, which you choose to ignore for the time being.

“Hey,” Damien greets as you take the seat next to him. “Ayla’s already told me about what happened early. You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m used to it by now,” you shrug, pulling out your supplies for the class.

“You shouldn’t have to be,” he mutters, frown evident on his face before his expression is lightening up in the next moment. “Anyways, what’s with the posse?” He motions to the two men sitting behind you with his head. “They your new bodyguards or something?”

“Actually, yes,” you nod, noticing how Damien’s jaw drops.

“Damn, that’s hot,” he wiggles his brows at you. “Are either of them single?”

“I don’t know, why don’t you ask them,” you quirk a brow, ready to turn around before he stops you.

“Don’t embarrass me in front of them, I’m pretty sure they can hear me,” he whines.

Sneaking a glance over your shoulder, you see both of their amused faces, causing you to laugh, “for sure they can.”

“Oh god,” he groans, face planting onto the desk. “I’m going to make myself feel better and just believe they can’t date on the job.”

“I don’t even know if they’re single,” you reply, a slight teasing tone in your voice.

“Whatever, I still have you, don’t I?” He grins, turning his head to look at you from his position on the desk.

“Of course,” you grin back. “Still down to get married if we’re both still single at thirty-five?”

“Damn right I am,” he sits back up, smiling along with you. “Who else could put up with you?”

“Excuse me! I’m a delight to be around,” you scoff.

“Oh, yeah? Says who?” He smirks.

“My elementary and high school teachers,” you reply, sticking your tongue out at him as the two of you laugh. You can faintly hear a few chuckles coming from behind you, but you brush them off.

“I don’t think being ‘a pleasure to have in class’ counts,” Damien teases, nudging your arm slightly.

“You’re just jealous that all of our teachers liked me better,” you jokingly huff, nudging his arm back.

“Yeah, yeah,” he chuckles a few times, “whatever you say.”

“Anyways, did you manage to finish the assignment for today?” You ask him, taking out your laptop.

“Fuck, just barely,” he sighs dramatically, “I was up all night finishing it before class today. What about you?”

“Finished it yesterday,” you hum, setting up a fresh document for taking notes.

“Of course, I should have known,” he grins. “I don’t even need to ask anymore, you’re usually done assignments a day before they’re due anyways.”

“Procrastination is a hard habit to shake,” you mutter.

“You call that procrastinating!” Damien half-yells, eyes wide as you hear a huff of amusement come from behind you.

“Shut up, class is about to start,” you can’t fight the grin of amusement that pulls at your lips as you both turn to face front, looking at the professor as they begin the lecture for the day.

Again, the whole time you’re taking notes, you can feel Ten’s and Taemin’s gazes on your back. So much so, that halfway through class you type out a ‘stop staring at my back’ into your notes, bold it, and make it a bigger font for them to see as you subtly lean to the side so they can read it. They seem to take the hint and for the rest of the class, you barely feel their eyes on you, but you can tell Damien is feeling a bit uncomfortable. They must have shifted their gazes from you to him.

Eventually, class ends, and you agree to hang out with Damien for the next hour before his next class begins. Even though you’re done for the day, you enjoy spending time with your best friend.

Walking to the building where his next class is, you all grab food, sitting at a table just across from the lecture hall. You and Damien continue to converse as you eat, while the two other men eat in silence, continuing to observe the area, and more particularly, you.

“Wait, is that Minhyuk?” Damien says, squinting his eyes slightly at a figure across the way.

Your eyes follow his gaze as both Ten and Taemin turn around to look at the now approaching male. Minhyuk’s eyes lock with yours, a smile pulling at his lips, only causing you to groan in response.

“Why can’t he just leave me alone?” You groan, placing your head in your hands, only to look up in the next moment with a brilliant fake smile plastered on your face as Minhyuk reaches your table.

Ten and Taemin share a look.

“Hey, (Y/n), how are you today?” He leans his one hand on the table, completely ignoring the three other males that are with you.

“Well, my day was going great until you showed up,” you chirp, causing Taemin and Ten to look at you in slight confusion.

“Oh, baby, you hurt me so,” he mocks offence, placing a hand over his heart as if he’s actually been hurt by your words. “Anyways, I saw you sitting here and I couldn’t help myself but to come over and see if-“

“No,” you immediately cut him off, expression morphing into one of disinterest, no longer being bothered to act cheerful anymore.

“But you haven’t even heard what I was going to ask-“

“I said no,” you lock eyes with him. “It was a no last time. It’s a no this time, and it will always be a no.”

Ten and Taemin observe the situation, waiting to intervene at a moments notice, though they’re a bit confused, and curious, as to what this whole situation is about. Damien sips on his drink in amusement, watching the entire situation play out before his eyes as he leans back in his chair.

“Come on, babe, we both know I’ll be worth your while,” Minhyuk smirks, only serving to irritate you further. His eyes flick to the two unfamiliar males sitting with you as he goes on to say, “we both know I’m the only one who can really make you scream.”

“In frustration, yeah,” you reply, quirking a brow. “And don’t flatter yourself, I’ve had better orgasms from my own hand than what your two-inch dick can offer me.”

At your words, Damien nearly chokes on his drink from laughing so hard. You notice the two men sharing another glance between each other across from you.

Minhyuk simply sputters before you, face turning red. You can tell he’s fuming.

“Yeah, well, you’re just a bitch who sleeps with the first guy that gives you any attention,” Minhyuk seethes, only getting more angry the more unbothered by his words you look. “Fucking slut, who wants to be with you anyways. You good for nothing, stupid, waste of space-“

Before any one of them can react, you’ve stood up, causing your chair to screech across the floor and draw even more attention to yourself as you land a solid blow to his left cheek, sending him stumbling back a few paces. Damien watches on with wide eyes as you notice your two bodyguards stand up out of the corner of your eyes.

“You fucking bitch!” Minhyuk sneers, winding up to hit you back.

However, before his fist can make contact, you manage to catch it mid-air, surprising the two males once more, and only serving to make Damien’s eyes widen even more as he sips his drink. Your nails dig into Minhyuk’s skin, and you can see him struggling to pull his fist out of your grip as a crowd begins to form around the five of you.

“If I’m what you say I am, why do you always keep trying to get into my pants? We both know I’m not interested in you, so why waste your time on me? Leave me the fuck alone,” you spit, pushing him away from you as you let go of his fist.

He says nothing, only choosing to glare at you as he rubs at his closed fist, indents from your nails evident in his skin. You notice a few people in the crowd filming the situation, and with a sigh, you grab your things quickly, pushing past people to exit the building. Damien rushes after you once he grabs his things, Ten and Taemin sharing a final look before following as well.

“(Y/n), fuck, that was amazing!” Damien cheers once he catches up to you just outside the building.

“Are you okay?” It’s Ten’s amused voice that manages to grab your attention.

“Never better,” you reply, exhaling a significant amount of air, noticing how he stands with his arms crossed as Taemin leans on the side of the building.

“He never knows when to quit, does he?” Damien sighs, shaking his head in mock disbelief.

“Does he always bother you?” Taemin asks, intrigued. Neither of them thought you were capable of something like that, and they’re both greatly amused by this newfound side to you.

“You could say that,” Damien replies for you, and you roll your eyes.

“You drunkenly hook up with a guy one time in first year, and he never lets it go,” you huff. “All he wants is another round to say that he’s slept with the presidents’ daughter more than once. I can’t stand him.”

“He’s an asshole,” Damien confirms with a nod while patting your shoulder comfortingly.

“Sorry to make a scene before your class,” you apologize to him, only for him to smile at you.

“Are you kidding? That was literally the highlight of my day,” he grins, causing you to send him a weak smile back. “Now, go home and get some rest. Maybe curl up with a blanket and watch a movie, that always seems to cheer you up.”

“Yeah, if I don’t have to listen to my dad practice his speech for tomorrow,” you sigh, running a hand through your hair. “Plus, I’ve got readings.”

“Fuck the readings,” Damien immediately replies, causing you to let out a breath in amusement.

“I’ll see you later, okay?” You hug him, feeling a sense of relief wash over you as you feel him hug you back. “Have fun in class.”

“Two hours of physics with the most boring professor ever? Woo,” he says, unenthusiastically, causing you to let out a small laugh.

“Good luck, then,” you wave him off, sending him a small wink.

“Thanks, I’ll need it,” he waves back with a laugh, heading back inside before his class starts.

A sigh escapes your lips as you watch Damien disappear from your sight, grip tightening on your bag. You can feel the stares of the two men on you once more as you begin walking back to the car, them falling into step beside you soon after, with one on either side of you. They say nothing at first, a sort of tense silence falling over the three of you as you walk across campus. Ten is the first to break it.

“Didn’t know you had that in you,” he hums, amusement still clear in his voice.

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me,” you sigh, seeing your car come into view.

“You have some pretty sharp reflexes,” Taemin comments, looking at you from the corner of his eyes with a smirk present on his lips.

“Thanks,” you reply shortly, putting your hand on the handle of the back door once you reach your car.

Once unlocked, you’re pulling the door open and sliding into the back. You fail to notice the amused twitches of their lips as they follow suit.

Again, a small silence settles over the three of you while in the car as Taemin pulls onto the main road after leaving the campus. You look out the window, watching as the scenery moves by in a blur, not really focusing on anything but using it as a means to distract yourself. You’re tired from the day you’ve had, and you just want to get home and relax.

“So, you and Damien,” Ten’s voice manages to pull you out of your thoughts.

Turning your head, you lock eyes with him, “what about him?”

“You two seem, close,” Taemin cuts in, making you turn your gaze to catch his own in the rearview mirror.

“He’s been my best friend since preschool,” you reply, shrugging your shoulders slightly. “Nothing more to it.”

You hear Ten hum in acknowledgement at your statement, and sensing the end to the short conversation, you go back to absentmindedly looking out the window.

Arriving home, you hop out of the car, quickly making your way back inside your house with the two men following in pursuit. Before you can make it two steps, your father is calling you into his study. You sigh, already knowing what this is going to be about.

“(Y/n), although I’m happy you stood up for yourself, violence is never the answer,” your father reprimands you once you’re in his office.

“Yes, father,” you sigh, head down out of respect.

“In all fairness, sir, if she hadn’t acted beforehand, I was going to clock him myself,” Ten chimes in. “He was being a complete, and pardon my French, asshole.”

“Regardless of that fact or not, she should know better than to act out like that,” he frowns. “We’re lucky the news outlets won’t get wind of this. How would people react if they saw you, the presidents’ daughter, punching someone in the face? How do you think the public would perceive me as your father for ‘influencing’ you to act that way? What does that say about me as a parent? We have to be careful with our images. You know this. Otherwise, people will create these false presumptions about us. Now go, I have work to do.”

With a nod of your head, you turn around and exit the study, making your way to your room. You don’t have to look to know that your two bodyguards are already following you.

“Whether they see it or not, people are already going to have their false presumptions about us,” you mutter under your breath, releasing another sigh as you open the door to your room.

The two of them say nothing as they follow you into your room, closing the door behind them. They watch as you toss your bag onto your desk before moving over and flopping face first onto your bed, releasing a groan in the process.

Both of them are greatly amused by your actions today, not to mention impressed. Never would they have thought you would have had it in you to do what you did. Neither will admit it to the other, but they enjoyed this side of you, both intrigued by you and who you’re turning out to be. They can’t help but want to see more.

Moving over to sit on your couch, they allow themselves to relax slightly. Nothing unusual came up at your university, but they remain on high alert, as tomorrow would be a prime opportunity for something to happen given the events that will be taking place. They just know that whatever does happen, they’ll make sure to keep you safe. Not only is it their job, but after the events of today, you’ve sparked something within them, something that they haven’t felt in a long time. Something, that if given the chance, they want to feel again.

Eventually, the next day rolls around, and you manage to pull yourself out of your sour mood from the previous day. You’re currently sitting front row before the small stage they’ve set up outside for your father to give his speech on. People from all over campus, and the city for that matter, file in and take their seats, wanting to catch a glimpse of the president at this presidential event.

“Hey stranger,” Damien greets, nudging you gently as he takes the open seat beside you to your left. “How’re you feeling today?

“Could be better, could be worse,” you shrug, turning your head to look at him. “How about you?”

“Heard Minhyuk complaining about his face about an hour ago,” he replies with a hum. “You really got him good, dude’s sporting a nice shiner.”

“Serves him right,” a voice cuts in, shadows falling over both you and Damien.

Looking up reveals your two bodyguards now standing in front of you. You can tell Ten was the one to say that, for he wears a smug grin on his face as Taemin scans over the crowd.

“We’ll be positioned at the front of the stage during the speech, so if you need one of us, just wave us over,” Taemin informs you, to which you nod at.

You notice the earpieces they’re wearing, taking in their entire black ensembles. You lick your lips before taking a deep breath, turning back to face Damien in the next moment as the two men walk over to stand at the bottom of the front of the stage.

“Those two men are such fine, cool glasses of water, and I’m parched,” Damien says, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at you, only causing you to burst out laughing.

“Well, they’re all yours, boo,” you grin back, shooting him a wink. “Drink up.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” he hums, turning his gaze to the front where Ten and Taemin are standing at attention.

The two of you continue on your conversation for a short amount of time, seeing as the event will be starting soon. You’ve noticed how the crowd has really filled out, a small smile resting on your lips as you feel pride for your father swell in your chest. He can be a bit difficult at times, but you love him, and you hope beyond anything that nothing goes wrong today.

Soon enough, the crowd has settled down and the dean of your university introduces your father who receives a tremendous amount of applause in response. You take this time to look around at all the media sources broadcasting this event today. News outlets, magazines, even those filming on their phones for their own social media accounts.

Figuring you should get comfortable in your seat for your father’s speech, you lean back in your chair, crossing your left leg over the other, and your arms over your chest. You notice Damien lean back in his seat also, choosing to rest his hands in his lap as he gets comfortable.

A gentle breeze drifts through the campus, the sky dotted with clouds as the sun peeks out from behind one. You can see your mother smiling in her seat behind your father as he begins his speech, the dean nodding along enthusiastically. All of your private bodyguards line the front of the stage on either side. Taemin and Ten standing closest to you, while Siwon and Natasha stand on the opposite side.

Just as your father takes a slight pause in his speech, the first shot is fired.

A scream sounds from the crowd somewhere behind you as the bullet makes contact with the ground just before your feet. You recoil in shock, nearly falling backwards in your chair. The next moment, chaos ensues as another bullet whizzes right past your head and hits the person sitting behind you.

People begin panicking, getting up and running in multiple directions while screaming in fear for their lives. You see both Taemin and Ten rushing towards you, but they’re two seconds too late.

The sound of a bullet making contact with flesh makes you flinch and squeeze your eyes shut. Your whole body tenses as you wait for pain to overtake you in the next moment. Except, it doesn’t come.

Opening your eyes, you look to your left where you see Damien on the ground, clutching his right shoulder as blood begins to flow from his fresh bullet wound. You barely register Ten grabbing your arm to lead you away from the scene.

Quickly regaining your senses, you rip your arm out of his grasp, a firm ‘no’ passing your lips as you drop to your knees beside Damien. Taking off the sweater you’re wearing, you immediately press it to his wound, keeping the pressure until medical help can arrive.

“Come on, we need to get you out of here,” Taemin says, going to grab for you himself this time.

“I’m not leaving him,” you state, staring into Damien’s eyes as tears gather at the corners of his as the pain washes over him.

“Our number one priority is keeping you safe,” Ten responds, looking around the crowd as both he and Taemin draw their guns. “No matter the cost.”

“I’ll be fine,” Damien assures you through gritted teeth. “It’s only a flesh wound.”

“Flesh wound my ass,” you mutter.

The commotion around you prevents you from seeing if your parents got away safely, but you’re hoping that they did. No more shots have been fired since Ten and Taemin have reached you, so you’re hoping the shooter has moved on and is in the process of being chased.

Another bullet whizzing past your arm is all the answer you need, your heart beating erratically in your chest as you’re overcome with fear. No matter how badly your mind is screaming for your body to run, you won’t leave your best friend here to die like this.

“I can’t leave him!” You shout over the commotion.

“Shit,” you hear Taemin cuss as he turns towards the direction the bullets have been coming from in hopes of getting a glimpse of the shooter. However, at this distance, his handgun is not going to have much of an effect on a long range shooter.

“Can you stand?” Ten asks you, to which you simply nod your head. “Good, get up.”

“I told you, I’m not leaving him to die!” At your words Damien lets out a pain filled groan.

“Go, get out of here,” he manages to get out. “Your life is more important than mine, anyways.”

“What the fuck are you saying? Of course it’s not!” You yell, tears blurring your vision as you feel the amount of blood on your hands despite your best efforts of putting pressure on the wound. “You can’t say things like that, I don’t know who I’d be without you. Come on, you’re going to get through this, stay with me.”

Before you can register what’s happening, you feel yourself being pulled up and off of the ground. You begin to protest as Taemin drags you away from Damien, struggling in his grip as he leads you away from the scene of the crime for your protection, gun raised the whole time.

Pulling you behind a building and out of view from the sniper’s range, Taemin pushes you against the wall, scanning the area to make sure it’s safe before turning to lock eyes with you.

“Relax, Ten’s got him,” he says, motioning with his head to his brother who has now caught up to you and is carrying Damien over his shoulder.

You manage to breathe a sigh of slight relief, your blood still rushing through your veins due to the adrenaline. You’re not safe yet, but at least you know Damien won’t just be left out there to bleed to death.

“You know, when I imagined getting carried away by prince charming, this is not what I had in mind,” Damien pipes up, causing you to let out a laugh in disbelief as Ten places him back on his own feet.

Pushing past Taemin, you manage to catch Damien as he stumbles slightly, wincing as his wound throbs in pain.

“You idiot,” you laugh, a single tear escaping your eye as you throw his arm over your shoulder. “This is seriously not the time for joking around.”

“You’re right-“

“(Y/n)!”

“Get behind us!”

“No!” A shriek escapes your lips as you hear a gunshot fire from in front of you, a masked figure now standing mere metres away from you.

It all happens within the blink of an eye, yet everything still seems to happen in slow motion.

You watch as the bullet inches closer to your chest, Ten and Taemin rushing in front of you to try and protect you, but they’re going to be too late. Your eyes widen as you register Damien pushing you out of the way just in time to take the bullet for you. Stumbling slightly, you can only watch on in horror as his now lifeless body falls to the ground in front of you. You’re ears are ringing, and you barely register Taemin firing his own gun, killing the assailant instantly.

Taemin and Ten begin to scan the area, guards high incase another attacker is to make themselves known. They stand guard on either side of you as the swat teams arrive, only now noticing how you’ve dropped to your knees with silent tears streaming down your face as you stare at Damien’s still frame, bleeding out on the concrete in front of you.

“D-Damien,” your voice comes out as a broken whisper, barely having the strength to crawl over to him, but you manage, choking on a sob along the way.

You manage to turn him over, wiping the hair out of his face as you come to rest his head in your lap, just like how you would sit when you were kids. A tear falls on his cheek, and you can’t help but think he looks almost peaceful like this; as if he’s only sleeping.

“You idiot,” you choke out, cupping his face gently in your hands and ignoring all those around you for the moment. “That bullet wasn’t meant for you.” Another tear lands on his cheek. “You weren’t meant to die for me. How am I supposed to go on without my best friend?”

Tears continue to flow down your cheeks as you sob for the loss of your closest friend. How cruel of fate to take him away from you so soon, that he should die while you continue to live on. Why would he do that for you?

All these thoughts, and more, race through your mind, and you can come up with the answer yourself, which only makes you sob harder. The love you have for your best friend is also shared by him. He did this because he wanted to, because he loves you. If the roles would have been reversed, you would have done the exact same thing for him.

A comforting hand is placed gently onto your back, startling you out of your thoughts. Letting your eyes refocus, you notice you’ve been subconsciously brushing Damien’s hair out of his face this whole time, only serving to streak it red with his blood that still rests on your hands.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, completely ignoring whoever it is that’s come to comfort you at this time in favour of gently placing Damien’s head on the ground. You back up slightly in order to give yourself enough room to lean down to place one final kiss to his forehead while whispering a small thank you. “I love you. You will always be my best friend.”

Letting out a shaky sigh, you sit back up. Looking to your left, you see Taemin standing there with a hand placed comfortingly on your shoulder. He looks at you with slightly sorrowful eyes as you stand up, stumbling slightly on your feet. Luckily, Taemin is there to support you.

“Take me home,” your voice is barely above a whisper as you find yourself leaning into his side. He doesn’t need to see your eyes to know the sadness that reflects in them, for he can hear it clearly in your voice.

By now, the reporters have made a reappearance as special ops forces take care of the scene. They throw questions your way while shoving microphones in your face as you walk past. Taemin does his best to push them out of your way, but in the end, some of the swat team has to step in to control them in order to get them to leave you alone.

Ten is currently busy filling in the superiors on what events have just taken place. He watches as Taemin leads you away, an arm wrapped securely around your figure. He bites his lip. That should be him. He knows what it’s like to lose someone close to you, someone you love. He should be the one comforting you in this time, not Taemin.

The whole time shots were being fired, Ten’s heart was racing in his chest. Normally, he loves the thrill of adrenaline that rushes through his veins during times like these, but today, he couldn’t help but worry. He worried for your safety, and yes, even though you are his client and he should regularly worry about your safety, this time was different. No matter what happens, he doesn’t want to see you get hurt. Or worse.

It stuck with him, how attached you seemed to be to Damien, and how you refused to leave his side, even in the face of danger. He finds your loyalty admirable, and genuinely enjoys your caring nature. He doesn’t want to admit it to himself yet, but it pained him to see the horrified, heartbroken look on your face when Damien was killed. If he can help it, he never wants to see you hurt or in pain again, and he’ll start by doing his job right. His number one priority now, is protecting you at all costs, even if it means giving up his own life.

Meanwhile, you rest your head on the cool window of your car as Taemin drives you home. Nothing is said between the two of you, and you’re grateful for the silence. Closing your eyes, you attempt to get some rest while on your way home, but every time you close your eyes, all you can see is Damien’s dead body bleeding out on the ground.

You don’t even notice you’ve started crying again until you feel a gentle hand on your cheek, wiping away your tears. Your eyes flutter open to see you’re back home already, the car now parked in the garage.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he says softly, eyes full of sorrow as he retracts his hand from your cheek slowly.

You don’t say anything in response, not trusting your voice to not crack if you were to speak. Instead, you find yourself nodding once at him, swallowing briefly.

Never have you seen Taemin show this much emotion in front of you, but you appreciate it none-the-less. You’re also grateful he doesn’t push you to talk, opting to get out of the car and help you walk into the main part of the house in the next moment.

He can feel his heart clench slightly in his chest, seeing you so upset and hurt by the events of today. He won’t easily admit it, but the whole time shots were being fired, he was scared he wouldn’t be able to protect you. He’s intrigued by you, and ever since yesterday, he’s wanted to get to know you better. Sure he acts a bit cold and distant, but he knows he’s starting to warm up to you.

You have this effect on him which sets his heart racing, and knowing how much you care for your best friend just made his interest in you spike. He admires the loyalty and dedication you’ve shown so far, selfishly wanting that for himself in the future. You’ve definitely caught his eye, and once he sets his sights on something, he never lets go of his target.

He only wishes he could have been able to comfort you better in the car before the two of you went inside.

As soon as your mother sees you enter the house, she rushes over to you, “(Y/n), oh my god. Thank goodness you’re alright! We were so worried about you, are you hurt?”

“No, mom, I’m fine,” you reply, brushing her off in favour of wanting to retreat to your room for the rest of the evening. You just want to be alone right now, or at least away from your parents and their questioning gazes.

“You don’t look fine,” your dad comments, worry evident on his features as he frowns. “You have blood on your hands.”

“There’s blood on your hands?” You mother panics, immediately grabbing your hands in hers and looking them over worriedly as she takes in the sight of the now dried blood covering your hands.

“It’s fine, it’s-“ you hesitate, closing your eyes briefly as you swallow your emotions for the time being, “it’s not mine.”

“Then who’s-“ both your mother and father’s brows furrow as they fully look at your red eyes and tear stained face.

“It’s-“ you choke on a breath, your emotions overcoming your weak walls that you’ve put up for the time being as you feel the weight of the events from today come crashing down on you. “Damien’s”

“Is he alright?” Your mother asks, squeezing your hands gently in comfort as she looks at your face in worry.

You shake your head, refusing to meet her eyes as you hear her gasp.

“He sacrificed himself for me,” you let out a shaky breath, only now being able to look up into your mother’s eyes, and you can see the sorrow reflected in her own as she wraps you in her arms.

“Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry,” she says, gently stroking your hair as you sob into her shoulder. You can feel your father come over to place a comforting hand onto your back, gently rubbing soothing circles the whole time.

You all stay like this for a few minutes, your parents comforting you as you sob in the main hallway of your house. After a little while longer, you manage to get your emotions back under control, enough to pull away from your mom as she wipes your tears away.

“Why don’t you go and get some rest, honey, we’re well protected here at home,” she suggests, to which you nod in response.

You don’t say anything as you walk past them and to the stairs, slowly trudging up them and to your room. Closing the door gently behind you, you feel as if you’re untuned to your surroundings, moving around your room slowly as if in a daze.

Grabbing a fresh pair of pyjamas to change into consisting of an oversized t-shirt and sleep shorts, you make your way to your bathroom in order to wash off the events of the day. You find that the hot water helps clear your mind slightly, serving to wash away the dirt and grim that’s stuck onto you. It takes you several minutes just to wash the blood off of your hands, it now being caked into your nails. The sight alone makes your eyes sting with unshed tears.

You end up taking longer than you thought you would to get ready for bed, seeing as how your movements are sluggish at the moment. Once you deem your hair dry enough, you throw it in a bun on the top of your head, exiting the bathroom and coming back out into your main room.

Just as you groggily start to make your way over to your bed, you hear a faint knock coming from your bedroom door. Releasing a small sigh, you head over to see who it could be.

Opening the door reveals Taemin standing there. You notice his eyes roam over your figure briefly, taking in your appearance, before looking back up to meet your gaze.

“Your parents wanted me to check up on you after debriefing them,” he says, not wanting you to know that he was also concerned about how you may be fairing after the events of today.

“I’m just going to try and get some sleep,” you reply, bringing a hand up to rub at your eyes.

“Well, if you need anything, let me know,” with a final nod, he goes to turn away.

“Wait,” your voice halts him in his tracks.

“Yes?” He turns his head to look at you from over his shoulder.

“I know that this isn’t really a part of your job description, but I don’t really want to be alone right now,” you say, looking down at your feet somewhat nervously. “Do you mind staying with me for a while? At least until I fall asleep? I’d feel safer knowing you were with me, watching over me.”

Given the circumstances, he knows his heart shouldn’t be skipping a beat at your words, but it does anyways. It takes him a moment to think of a response, but you take his silence as a denial to your request.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to, I can always ask Ten when he gets back-“

“No, no,” he cuts you off before you can finish. There’s no way he’s letting his brother take this opportunity away from him. “It’s fine. Just let me shower first, then I’ll be right with you.”

“Oh, yeah, of course!” You say, your eyes flitting upwards only to look down again in the next second. “Do whatever you have to do first. I’ll be here.”

With a final nod from him, he’s moving quickly down the hall and to his room. He doesn’t want to keep you waiting for long, but he does want to wash off the events of the day before keeping you company. Besides, it wouldn’t hurt for him to freshen up a little bit for you.

Not even fifteen minutes later, you hear another soft knock coming from your bedroom door. Getting up off of your bed, you go over to let Taemin into your room, closing your door gently behind him.

“Thank you, by the way,” your voice is small as you move past him to sit on the side of your bed. “You didn’t have to agree to this.”

“Don’t mention it,” he replies, moving to sit on your couch that faces your bed, serving to give you space, but also letting you know that he’s still there for you incase you should need him.

Crawling underneath your covers, you attempt to get comfortable. You’re able to relax slightly better knowing Taemin is in your room to protect and watch over you for the time being. However, the more you allow yourself to relax, the more your body begins to shake. Your mind now has time to think about all the events that have taken place today, and thanks to your adrenaline wearing off, all of your emotions are coming crashing back to you. Fear, grief, anger, shock, and sadness all flood your senses as you attempt to lull yourself to sleep.

Every time you close your eyes, you see glimpses of the horrific scenes that played out in front of you during the day, but none of them are as prominent as watching your best friend get shot over and over again; you can still hear the gunshots ringing in your ears.

A small whimper escapes your lips as tears threaten to fall from your eyes once more.

Squeezing your eyes shut tightly, you curse yourself. Yes, it’s good to have emotions, but your father has always told you not to let them get the best of you. You can’t help but just feel so weak after the events of today. Never before have you been so scared for your life, and never before have you had to face this kind of terror head on. Never has it affected you this horribly before.

You nearly jump out of your skin when you feel a gentle hand place itself onto your back, successfully serving to pull you out of your thoughts.

Turning to look over your shoulder, you stare at Taemin with slightly wide, tear-filled eyes, and he can feel his heart clench in sorrow for you.

“Are you okay?” His voice is gentle, concern clear on his features.

You sit up in bed, turning to face him fully as you choke back a sob, “no.”

Moving quickly, he sits on the edge of your bed, wrapping you in his arms. He gently rubs his one hand along your back as you come to rest your head in the side of his neck, letting all of your emotions out that you’ve so desperately kept in since retreating to your room for the evening.

He lets you cry into him for as long as you need, comforting you in any way he can. He wants you to know that he’s here for you, in more ways than just being your bodyguard. It pains him to see you this upset, but he’s glad that he’s the one able to be with you in your time of need.

Eventually, your sobbing begins to die down, with you only shaking slightly from your emotions now as you begin to calm yourself down. He refuses to let you go just yet, wanting to make sure you’re okay before having you pull away. He wants you to be the first to pull away, so as to not deny you of his comfort when you need it most. Besides, he’s enjoying the fact that he get’s to hold you in his arms, though he wishes it was under better circumstances.

“Thank you,” you whisper in his ear, nearly causing a shiver to run down his spine.

All too soon, you’re pulling away from him to look into his eyes while wiping away your remaining tears. You send him a weak smile, one that still manages to pull at his heartstrings as he sends you a small one back. This surprises you slightly as you don’t believe you’ve seen him smile at all until now.

“Don’t mention it,” he replies lowly, slowly going to stand up before your hand on his wrist stops him.

“Do you-“ you pause, biting your lip slightly as you avoid his gaze, “can you-“

He can see your eyes flicker briefly to him before flicking to beside you on the bed, the hesitant yet hopeful look shining in your eyes only serving to make his heart race faintly in his chest.

He nods his head slightly, “of course.”

The breath you let out in relief is followed by a small smile which overtakes your features. You both know that this isn’t in his job description, but you’d feel better having him stay with you for the night.

Making room for him, he crawls under your covers with you. You can tell he doesn’t want to overstep his boundaries, but you feel better when his arms are around you. Especially in this moment, you need the comfort only he can provide for you.

Letting out another small sigh, you turn to face him, noticing he’s already staring at you. The two of you continue to stare at each other for about a minute, a small silence settling around the both of you. You shuffle closer, averting your gaze in the next moment.

“Taemin?” Your voice is barely above a whisper, but he still manages to hear you.

“Yes?” He hums.

“Hold me,” it’s not a question, yet not a demand either, but it feels as if the world has stopped for a brief moment as he takes in your request.

He doesn’t say anything in response, and you’re worried you might have gone too far, but once you feel his arms loop around your figure and pull you close to him, you’re breathing another sigh of relief.

He’s sure you can hear the way his heart skips a beat as you bury yourself into his chest, wrapping your own arms around his waist as you seek comfort in his embrace. He knows he shouldn’t read too much into this, you’re only asking him to do this to comfort you in your time of need, but it’s the fact that you’re asking him to do this for you that sets his heart racing.

He hasn’t felt this way in a long time, and even though he wishes the events leading up to this moment were different, he’s just glad he gets to experience holding you in his arms for the night. Whatever you need, he’ll give to you.

As he watches you sleep in his arms, he makes a promise to himself that night. No matter what happens, he’ll always be there for you. To protect you, and if you’ll let him, to love, and cherish you for as long as you both shall live.

Waking up the next morning, you hear faint breathing coming from beside you. Furrowing your brow slightly in confusion, you go to sit up, only to find a pair of arms resting around your waist. Glancing over your shoulder, you see Taemin’s sleeping face; everything from the previous night coming back to you now.

Managing to wiggle out of his grasp, you sit on the edge of your bed, warmth rushing up your neck as you realize he slept with you the entire night. The more you think about it though, the calmer you feel, for he did comfort you the entire time he’s been with you. You don’t think you would have been able to sleep at all if he didn’t stay.

“Good morning,” you hear him say from behind you, voice still groggy from sleep. You can feel the bed shift as he sits up. “How are you feeling?”

“Better, thank you,” you reply briefly from over your shoulder. “I’m sorry I made you stay with me last night.”

“Don’t be,” he replies, shifting slightly so he can rest a hand on your back. “I’m glad I could help. Besides, you needed it.”

You say nothing in return, choosing to nod slightly instead.

Standing up from your bed, you move over to your bathroom to get ready for the day. Once by the sink, you splash some cool water onto your face to wake yourself up. Looking into your reflection in the mirror reveals how red and swollen your eyes are from crying last night. You let out a sigh.

Today isn’t going to be any easier. You know you’re going to have to have a meeting with your parents to fully discuss what happened yesterday, as well as possibly make arrangements for Damien’s funeral with his family. To say you’re not looking forward to any of that would be an understatement.

Once you’re finished in the bathroom, moving back into the main section of your bedroom reveals that Taemin has already left. You figure he’s probably gone to get ready for the day himself, seeing as he’s back on formal duty now.

Moving over to your closet, you mindlessly shift through your clothes, not feeling up to changing at the moment. You just want to lay in bed and rest, but unfortunately, your life has to go on. Such is the pain of being apart of such an important family.

Deciding you should at least put on some proper pants, you change swiftly, trudging downstairs slowly afterwards, and bracing yourself for the day you have in front of you.

Meanwhile, Taemin changes quickly in his room. His skin is still warm from where you had been touching him before you had moved, and he misses the comforting feeling of you being in his arms. His only wish was that it could have lasted for even just a little while longer.

While washing his face, the door attached to Ten’s room opens, revealing him now casually leaning on the doorframe and staring at his brother expectantly.

“You weren’t in your room when I got back last night,” Ten states, a small inquisitive quirk to his eyebrow.

“I was with (Y/n) last night,” Taemin replies casually, noticing the way his brother’s eye twitches at the mention of your name.

“Sleeping with the clientele, are we?” Ten muses, shaking his head in mock disappointment. He always thought better of his brother to not intrude on personal space, especially not after a day like yesterday.

“Relax, it wasn’t like that,” Taemin rolls his eyes slightly, turning to face his brother while leaning casually on the bathroom counter. “She asked me to stay with her for comfort. She said I make her feel safe.”

Though he looks visibly unaffected, Ten’s jaw can’t help but twitch in clear annoyance. Again, he should have been the one to comfort you in your time of need, not Taemin. He only wishes he could have been given that opportunity to make sure you were alright last night. He wants an opportunity to get closer to you, and learn more about you, just like his brother did. Or so he believes.

“We should get going, they’re expecting us downstairs,” Taemin’s voice manages to pull Ten out of his thoughts.

Ten finds he can only nod his head once in response. Pushing himself off the frame of the door, he retreats back into his room before making his way downstairs. They both make sure to check your room first though, just to make sure you’ve already made your way to the main floor of the house.

Sitting at one end of the dining room table, you watch as your two guards enter the room, moving to stand on either side of you once in position. Now, you’re just waiting for your father to arrive. He had to leave early this morning for a press statement, or so your mother tells you.

You let out a small breath, fiddling with your phone in front of you as you receive a barrage of messages from both Ayla and Jongin, as well as your other friends around the globe who’ve heard of the news. Most of them have heard about what happened yesterday, and want to make sure you’re okay. They also know about what happened to Damien, so they send you their deepest condolences, of which you’re grateful for. You don’t know what you’d do without them still in your life.

Soon enough, your father is arriving home and you all begin your discussions around what the next week will look like. Your university will remained closed until further notice while the investigation is underway, as well as to honour Damien’s memory. They’re going to hold a public wake at the school in about a week’s time, after his main funeral takes place. His main funeral will be in three day’s time for only close friends and family. You make a note to let Ayla and Jongin know about that as soon as you can.

You are to be on lockdown in the house for the next little bit to make sure that no one else will come after you in public. The only exceptions to this rule are the day of Damien’s funeral, as well as the wake if you choose to go.

Your parents will be busy doing press interviews for the next little bit, as the special ops forces work to catch whoever is behind these assassination attempts. They also want you to pick back up on your old self defence training, and they’ve assigned your bodyguards to help train you.

Not only do your parents want you to brush up on your hand-to-hand combat skills, but they also want you to learn how to properly shoot a gun. They tell you that it’s for your own protection, and also in case of emergencies, which you simply nod your head along to whatever they say.

At this point, your mind is on information overload, and you just want to retreat back to your room, curl up in bed or on the couch, and watch a movie to take your mind off of things. At least you have the next little bit off of school, though you just wish it was for better reasons than this. You sigh.

An hour and a half later, you’re all finished talking, all updated on the most recent of events. Your parents each have something they need to do, and you’re glad that they’re allowing you time to yourself to do whatever you need to. Whether it be grieve, scream, or lay in a silent emotional void for a bit, you’re unsure. What you do know, is that as soon as they dismiss you, you’re standing up from your seat and practically rushing back to your room.

Reaching the safe confines of your room, you grab your comforter off of your bed, and move over to your one couch facing your television. Taemin and Ten follow your every movement, watching as you toss the blanket over the couch while moving over to grab your laptop in the next second. Setting up the screen, you plug in your laptop adapter to reflect your screen on the television, deciding that you’re going to watch your favourite movie to take your mind off of things.

Sitting down on a corner of your couch once you’ve set everything up, you wrap the comforter around yourself. Looking over your shoulder, you see both Ten and Taemin standing a little ways away from you, eyes shining with curiosity. You can also see the concern reflected in their eyes still, a fact that makes you sigh.

“The two of you might want to get comfortable and join me, I’m probably going to be here for a while,” you say, turning your attention back to your screen as the opening of your favourite movie begins to play.

They say nothing as they move over to join you. Ten takes the opposite end of the couch you’re on, while Taemin takes the chair directly beside you. Both of them spare a glance towards you before locking eyes with each other. They’re both surprised with how calm you seem at the moment. Honestly, they’d say you appear more tired than anything.

About halfway through the movie, Ten looks over to see that you’ve fallen asleep. Your head rests slightly on the back of the couch, but the angle you’re sitting in looks fairly uncomfortable.

His eyes briefly flick over to Taemin before letting out a small breath, noticing how his brother is focussed on the screen.

Shifting slightly, he moves closer to you, gently pulling you down on the couch so your don’t wake up with a sore neck. However, what he doesn’t expect is for you to sigh and lean into him.

His heart races in his chest as you manage to push him back on the couch slightly, hand resting on his chest as his one arm naturally wraps around your shoulders, allowing you to comfortably rest your head on him. He looks down at you with slightly stunned features, noticing how a little bit of your hair has fallen over your face. He goes to brush it away.

“What are you doing?” Taemin’s voice manages to halt any movements Ten is about to make.

Looking up, he meets the hard gaze of his brother, a smug expression on his face as he sees Taemin’s eyes failing to hide the slight jealousy in them.

“Getting comfortable,” Ten responds, gently brushing the hair out of your face all the while maintaining eye contact with Taemin.

You simply hum at Ten’s touch, shifting slightly to bury yourself deeper into his warm embrace subconsciously. You remain asleep as the two brothers stare each other down, Taemin’s jaw clenching as the corner of Ten’s lips turn up slightly. Now, it’s his turn to hold you.

Reluctantly, Taemin tears his gaze away from you being held in Ten’s arms. His jaw remains set in a firm line as his emotions begin to take over his thoughts. He knows he got to hold you last night, and that it didn’t mean anything, but he can’t help but think that it meant something. You went to him for comfort. You asked him to stay with you last night, and now, seeing you curled up in Ten’s arms sets his blood boiling. He doesn’t care that Ten’s his brother, he’s the one that’s going to protect you, the one that will keep you safe. He’s the better option for you, not Ten.

Meanwhile, Ten basks in the glory that is you curled up, sleeping in his arms. You look so peaceful like this, as if the events of the previous day haven’t had the chance to affect you yet. He takes this time to admire your features, memorizing every detail and falling deeper into the feelings only you seem to be able to stir within his chest. It only makes him prouder that you’ve leant into him considering he didn’t get to comfort you, or hold you at all, last night like he so badly wanted to do. Now, he gets you all to himself in a way, and he couldn’t be more content. Knowing his brother is fuming only makes this feeling that much more sweeter. After all, he’s the one who’ll make sure nothing bad ever happens to you again. He’s what you deserve.

You manage to sleep for the next hour or so, the movie long over by the time you wake up. Noticing the position you’re in, heat rises up your neck as you sit up from Ten’s hold, retracting back to the opposite side of the couch while muttering a small sorry, and avoiding his eyes. He simple smiles warmly at you in response, thinking about how cute you look avoiding his gaze. All the while, Taemin stares at him with narrowed eyes.

The three of you remain in your room for the rest of the day, them keeping you company as you watch movies to pass the time and take your mind off of things. The only time you leave your room is to grab food and drinks, opting to skip a major meal for dinner that night, thinking you won’t be able to stomach it due to the fact that you’ve barely had a large appetite since the incident.

“Your parents want you to start your self-defence training as soon as possible,” Taemin’s voice manages to pull you out of your thoughts after a while. “Do you think you’ll be willing to start tomorrow?”

It takes you a moment to think over his words, letting out a small sigh as you answer him, “the sooner, the better, right?”

“As long as you’re feeling up to it,” Ten adds, shooting you a soft look, eyes reflecting his concern for you. “It would probably be for the best.”

“Then tomorrow it is,” you nod, closing your eyes briefly as you take a deep breath.

“You should get some rest,” Taemin says, standing up from his chair and stretching slightly.

You simply nod in response, watching as Ten stands up as well.

“Are you going to be okay for the evening?” Ten asks, looking down at you, who has tucked the blanket all the way up to your chin.

“I think so,” you nod, shifting your gaze upwards to lock eyes with him, and noticing something flash behind his own, but it’s gone just as quickly as it came.

“If you need us, don’t be afraid to come get one of us,” Taemin tells you, already moving over to your door to retreat to his room for the evening.

“Thank you,” comes your simple response, sending one final nod your way as they both exit your room for the evening, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

A sigh escapes Ten’s lips as he shuts your door behind him, noticing Taemin already making his way down the hall and to his own room. He had hoped you’d ask for him to stay with you for the night, just like you had done the previous night with his brother. Holding you in his arms today has only made him realize that he wants to be able to do so more often, but without the added company next time.

As soon as he had asked that question, Taemin caught on to what his brother was doing. He couldn’t help but smirk slightly at your denial of his hidden advances, although, he would have preferred if you had asked for him to stay with you for another night. Seeing you wrapped up in his brother’s arms just made him want to show his brother that you don’t belong to him. After all, he shouldn’t touch what isn’t his.

The next day, the three of you make your way to the sub-basement, where a designated training area has been set up for times like these. As you step into the large room, filled with sparring mats, amongst other things, your eyes widen. It still amazes you how they can fit a small shooting range down here, kind of like your own personalized bat cave, only significantly smaller and less cool.

“What did you want to start with first?” Ten asks as you turn your attention towards him.

“Maybe shooting? Seeing as sparring might take more of my energy later,” you say, failing to notice the subtle smirk that pulls at Taemin’s lips at your words. “I’d rather be able to lift my arm without it shaking from exhaustion.”

“Fair enough,” Ten nods, eye twitching slightly as he sees his brother’s smug look. He has to keep telling himself it doesn’t mean anything that you chose Taemin over him to start. After all, this is just training. Even so, he can’t help but frown as he turns away, noticing how you walk closer to Taemin, and away from him.

Pulling out his gun, Taemin leads you over to a side table. Once there, he swiftly pulls apart the pistol, placing each component carefully on the table in front of you.

“First things first, if you want to shoot a gun, you should learn exactly how each piece fits together with the other,” he says, looking over at you and watching your eyes flick over the separate pieces of his most prized possession. “If you want to know how to shoot a gun, you need to learn to assemble it first.”

Grabbing each piece he needs, he slowly begins piecing each part back together, you watching him closely the whole time. You listen intently to everything he says, eyes hardly ever leaving his hands as they assemble the gun into one solid piece.

Ten watches all of this with a slight scowl on his face. He doesn’t appreciate how close his brother is standing to you. There’s no reason your arms should be almost touching as Taemin explains the mechanics of the gun to you.

He knows exactly what his brother is doing to him, and he hates it, for he knows that Taemin is doing this on purpose, just to torment him. It’s been a long time since either one of them has wanted the same thing this badly, and neither are going to give up easily until they obtain their goal.

Another thing that bothers Ten is that he knows Taemin is using his favourite gun for this training exercise. Taemin rarely ever lets anyone touch, let alone assemble his favourite gun. Hell, Ten’s only used it twice before in his life, and he got scolded both times, even if they were both in critical life or death situations. This just makes Ten’s brow furrow further in discontent, knowing that his brother is this serious about you to let you train with his prized pistol.

This fact only makes him more antsy for his own turn to train with you. Then, he might be able to turn this on his brother, for he’ll be able to keep you close to him for nearly the entire time. After all, sparring is a contact sport.

Soon, Taemin is disassembling his gun once more in order for you to reassemble it this time. He places each component back on the table, turning his gaze to lock eyes with you.

“Got it?” He quirks a brow, and he sees you smile softly.

“I think so,” you nod once, and the corners of his mouth twitch up slightly.

Reaching out your hand, you grab the first piece, slowly assembling the gun just as Taemin had done previously. He watches you carefully the whole time, noticing how you bite your lip slightly in concentration as you put the pieces of the weapon together again. He can feel his heart racing slightly in his chest, not only from having you so near to him again, but also from seeing you holding his favourite gun. The way you hold it, so gently, carefully putting the pieces back together, makes his mind wander.

Is this how delicately you would treat your lover? Holding them as if they’re the most precious thing in the world? Or maybe the way you would care for a child, gently caressing them as you cradled them to your chest. These thoughts, and more, race through his mind, serving to distract him.

“Done!” Your proud voice manages to pull him out of his thoughts.

Looking down at the gun now placed on the table, he admires how quickly you’ve picked this skill up. A small smile pulls at the corner of his lips as he glances to you fondly, pride swelling in his chest at how well you’ve handled his prized possession. He knew you wouldn’t disappoint him.

“Good,” he nods, taking the weapon once more into his hands and disassembling it agains. “Now do it once more.”

He sees determination shine in your eyes as you nod your head at him. Your movements are much quicker this time as you’re more sure in your actions. He watches you with a content look on his face, amusement and pride swirling behind his eyes.

“By the way, this is a really nice pistol,” you comment, putting the last of the pieces together. “Is it custom?”

Once whole, you run your thumb over the engravings of the vines on the side of the barrel, staring down at the weapon with wonder shining in your eyes. You notice the small L.T.M carved into the side of the gun, just above the handle, as you flip it around in your hand to pass it back to him.

“It is,” he confirms, smirking down at the object now placed back in his own hand. He surprised you noticed, but the fact that you have just makes you appear more endearing to him. A fact that makes him confident that he’s made the right decision in wanting to pursue these emotions you stir within him. “It’s my favourite gun in my entire collection. I always carry it with me.”

“I see,” you respond, taken slightly aback by his words. You’re surprised he’s letting you use his favourite gun for training. “Thank you for trusting me enough to use it.”

“Of course,” comes his blunt reply, turning away from you so you can’t see the smug smile that wants to break out on his face, but Ten does. “Come on, let’s check your aim.”

Moving over to the small shooting range that has been set up, Taemin grabs two pairs of protective earmuffs, and eyewear for you. Handing you one of them, he briefly explains how to go about aiming the gun, and the kickback. You nod along to everything he’s saying, listening intently and taking in every detail you can in order to help you with your shooting.

“Those are the basics, so let’s see what you can do,” he says, handing over his precious pistol to you once more, after checking to make sure that it’s loaded.

“Right,” you respond, taking the gun once more into your hands after putting the protective gear on your head.

Raising the gun with both hands, you take aim, feeling the solid weight of the item in your grasp. You let out a small breath as you fire your first shot, slightly caught off guard at the kickback of the weapon, despite Taemin’s previous warning. You notice him chuckle beside you as you readjust your stance, taking aim once more and firing off a few more shots.

In total, you’ve fired six shots out of twelve, and only four of them have made contact with the target. A small pout resides on your lips as you notice the shots that did hit the target are way off their mark. Adjusting your earmuffs, you pull one off on one side, resting it just beside your ear enough so that you can better hear the world around you, noticing Taemin doing the same.

“This is harder than I thought,” you grumble, only causing Taemin to chuckle once more.

“It takes a lot of skill to handle a gun, especially for the first time,” he says, grin never leaving his lips as he takes a step towards you. “Still, I’m impressed. Most people miss the target the first time.”

“Why do I feel like you’re only saying that to make me feel better,” you huff, looking at him from the corner of your eyes.

“He’s not,” Ten’s voice cuts in, making you blink in surprise. You had almost forgotten he’s still in the room with you guys, given how quiet he’s been. “You should be grateful, he rarely praises anybody.”

Noticing the look his brother is giving him, Taemin smirks. He can practically feel the jealous eyes of his brother on him the whole time, only serving to make Taemin more smug about this whole situation. In fact, he’s even going to take this a step further, and show Ten just how close he can get to you.

“Here, adjust your grip and hold it like this,” moving closer to you, Taemin takes your hands into his own, guiding your hands over the gun as he leaves his overtop of yours. Stepping behind you, he fixes your stance to better accommodate your aim. His arms encase you between them, guiding you, and showing you how to shoot properly.

The whole time, he whispers the instructions into your ear, sending a slight shiver down your spine. A fact which doesn’t go unnoticed by him, making him smirk. He can practically feel the burning gaze of his brother on his back as he holds you in his arms, taking aim and telling you to shoot once more.

Ten bites his lip as he watches Taemin do all of this with you right in front of his eyes. It wasn’t enough for his brother to just stand close to you, but now he has the audacity to flaunt being able to touch you like this right in front of him. He clenches his jaw as your next six shots are right on target, never missing once.

Thank goodness the two of you are almost done for the day, and his turn is next. He’ll make sure to show his brother exactly where he stands with you, and put him in his place. If Ten has to suffer through watching you being held and touched by Taemin, he’ll make sure to show him exactly how it felt. Except, he’ll make sure to make it much worse for him. No one, not even his brother, gets away with touching you like that. No one.

Shifting your gaze to look at Taemin, a large grin spreads across your features. He stares back, a satisfied grin on his own face as he reluctantly releases you from his hold and takes a step back.

“Well done,” he praises, only serving to make your smile widen.

“That was amazing, oh my god,” your words come out in a slight jumble as they spill out of your mouth, handing him his gun back as you remove the protective gear and place it to the side. “I can’t believe we just did that.”

“Neither can I,” Ten grumbles under his breath, yet Taemin still manages to hear.

Shooting his brother a victorious smirk, Taemin turns his full attention back to you. “Why don’t you take a small break before you begin sparring practice. You’ve earned it.”

The smile never leaves your face as you reply to him, “good idea.”

Walking over to where his brother is now standing with crossed arms, Taemin smirks, “what’s wrong, brother? Is something the matter?”

“You know exactly what’s bothering me, don’t act so coy,” Ten replies, meeting Taemin’s intense gaze with his own deadly stare.

“I didn’t realize how attached you would get,” Taemin replies, mirroring Ten’s stance and crossing his own arms over his chest.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, brother,” Ten hisses, eyes narrowing as he watches Taemin laugh lowly.

“Do you really think you can win against me?” Taemin quirks a brow, daring Ten to challenge him. “I always get what I want, and I don’t intend to lose.”

“Well, you better be prepared for what’s to come then, brother,” Ten states, confidence high as he raises his head slightly in order to intimidate Taemin, “because I intend to win.”

Meanwhile, you move over to the side, grabbing the water bottle that you’ve brought with you for this occasion. Taking a drink, you let out a small content sigh once you’ve had your fill. Wiping at your forehead with the back of your hand, you take in a deep breath. If only Damien could see you now.

He was always fascinated with this sort of thing. Well, at least in video games. You know he would have loved every second of this, and you just wish he could have been here to experience it with you.

Another sigh escapes passed your lips, this once more sorrowful than the last. Closing your eyes briefly, you hope that wherever he is, that he’s in a better place now. At least that’s what you’d like to think.

Opening your eyes back up, you place your water bottle back down. Stretching briefly, you raise your arms above your head, tilting it from side to side and hearing a few satisfying pops sound from your spine. Dropping your hands back to your side, you begin to make your way back over to your two guards, who have both seemingly moved over to where the sparring mats have been set up.

Catching Ten’s gaze, a small smile takes over his features as you move towards them, one which you return.

“Ready to begin?” He asks once you’ve gotten close enough to them.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you joke, attempting to lighten the tense atmosphere you’ve just walked into.

“Good,” he nods, moving over to one side of the mat. “Then let’s begin.”

With a nod, you step onto the sparring mats, Ten standing directly across from you. After a few quick stretches to make sure you won’t pull anything, you’re ready to begin combat training.

“Alright,” Ten says, moving into a fighting stance, “show me what you’ve got.”

Jumping into action, you manage to catch him slightly off-guard, for he’s not expecting you to move right away. You manage to throw a punch at him, only for him to dodge your fist and have you pinned to the mat in the next second.

Your eyes are wide as you stare into his own, him wearing a slight smirk on his face. Your reflexes may be fast, but his are faster.

“That was good,” he comments. “You seem to have good speed, but you don’t know how to read your opponent properly yet.”

In the blink of an eye, you flip him over, pinning him to the mats beneath you.

Now it’s his turn to look at you with wide eyes. No one has ever been able to pin him before. He can hear Taemin laughing in disbelief off to the side, only causing him to grit his teeth in response.

“First rule they teach you in any sort of combat training,” you grin, leaning in closer to his face, “never underestimate your opponent.”

“You got me,” he chuckles, already missing the feel of you on top of him as you move to stand up.

You offer him your hand, to which he takes, as you help him get back onto his feet. Your grin only seems to widen as the two of you get back into your starting positions.

A few moments pass by, the both of you now taking your time to size each other up. This time, you don’t want to be the one to make the first move.

“Don’t hold back,” Ten tells you.

“I wasn’t planning to,” you reply smugly, causing his heart to skip a beat. Your determination is admirable, a fact that he likes about you.

In the blink of an eye, Ten jumps into action. You barely have time to register his attack, but your body seems to move on its own accord, narrowly dodging the hit he sends your way.

He continues throwing hit after hit your way, a few landing as you attempt to keep your defences up. His speed is incredible, though, and you struggle to keep up.

Gritting your teeth in frustration, you wait for an opportune opening to counter. However, it doesn’t look like you’re going to be getting one any time soon. He really knows how to cover his own ass.

The whole time, Taemin watches on in amusement. Never has anyone been able to keep up with Ten like this for their first time. To say he’s impressed would be an understatement. You just keep surprising the both of them today, and they couldn’t be happier.

Ducking underneath a kick Ten sends your way, you manage to lose your footing. A small ‘shit’ leaves your mouth as you land on your back, Ten taking the opportunity to pin you down in the next moment. This time, he makes sure to lock your body beneath his, so you can’t flip him again.

Holding your arms down beside your head, Ten leans down towards your face. Both of you are breathing heavily, attempting to catch your breaths as you stare at one another intently.

“You are very surprising,” he manages to say between breaths, making you smile.

“So I’ve been told,” you giggle, struggling slightly to get out of his grip.

Feeling your attempts to get free only causes him to smirk. He loves the feeling of you pinned beneath him, the sight being an incredible one to behold. Now, if only the two of you were alone, then maybe he would just be able to lean down and attach his lips to yours. Maybe he still might, just to prove to his brother that only he can have you.

“Ten?” Your voice pulls him out of his thoughts, his eyes focussing back in on your face which is reflecting slight discomfort at the position you’re being held in. “Do you mind getting off of me now?”

“Right, sorry,” moving swiftly, he hops back onto his feet, helping you to stand up in the next moment. He would have preferred staying in that position for longer, but he doesn’t want to push you, or make you uncomfortable around him. “Here, why don’t we test the strength in your kicks and punches now, seeing as you haven’t been able to land a single hit. There’s more to sparring than just evasion.”

“Sounds good to me,” with a quick nod from you, the two of you are moving over to the punching bag set up in the corner of the room.

“First things first, we need to wrap your hands,” grabbing a fresh roll of tape, Ten gently takes your hands into his own.

As Ten wraps your hands for you, he can’t help but note how perfectly they seem to fit into his own. He makes sure to hold you as gently as he can, showing you how careful and delicate he can be with you. After all, you deserve nothing but the best.

“There, that should be good enough,” Ten says after a few minutes.

Ever so slowly, he removes his hands from yours, his fingertips tingling from where he had just been touching you. He already misses the feeling of your skin beneath his fingertips, and he only hopes he can feel it again soon, but next time, he wants to feel more.

Shooting a glance over at Taemin, Ten notices how his jaw seems to be clenched, only causing him to smirk in response. Now his brother knows how it feels, and it’s only going to get worse from here.

Looking down at your now taped hands, you flex them a few times. They feel slightly foreign to you now, as you’ve never had them taped like this before, and each time you flex them, you can feel the tape around your skin, pulling slightly. You smirk.

Shifting your gaze up, you see Ten already standing behind the punching bag, staring at you with a soft expression on his face, but it’s gone almost as quickly as it came. You quirk a brow, moving over to stand in front of him.

“Judging from the way you clocked Minhyuk the other day, I’m assuming you already know how to hit properly,” he says, watching as you nod at him in response. “Good. Now, let’s see what you’re got.”

With another nod from you, you’re getting into a fighting stance, preparing for what you’re about to do. As soon as Ten gives you the okay to start, you begin to hit the punching bag with all you’ve got. Each hit of your fist against the material makes a small sound on impact, and you can see Ten adjust his stance to accommodate for your hits as he holds onto the punching bag.

As you continue to strike the bag, Ten gives you tips to adjust your stance to make your hits more powerful. You listen intently, immediately implicating his advice and seeing the power behind your punches, as well as your stability, increase.

The whole while, Taemin watches on with fondness shining in his eyes. He could care less about his brother being as close to you as he is, but seeing you working hard, and enjoying what you’re doing make his heart warm. You really are something else.

You start to add a few kicks into the mix, but you’re not quite used to them yet. You’ve never really needed to kick anything or anyone before, so the first time you nearly lose your balance. Luckily, you’re able to catch yourself before you fall.

Chuckling slightly, Ten move beside you, allowing for you to catch your breath for a minute as he give you tips on how to land a solid kick. You listen closely, nodding your head along to every word. Once he demonstrates though, your eyes are widening in awe.

“Wow,” you can’t help but mutter, causing a smug look to cross his features as he spares a glance towards a fuming Taemin.

“Now you try,” he says, seeing you nod, and getting into position.

Your foot makes a solid impact with the bag, causing it to sway slightly as Ten hadn’t been holding it in place that time. A large smile rests on your features as you take in your efforts.

“That was really good,” Ten praises, only serving to make your smile widen. “Ready to try sparring one more time?”

“Sure!” You confirm, heading back over to the sparring mats while Ten follows closely behind.

“Okay, whenever you’re ready,” he says, the both of you now back in position.

You waste no time in attacking him now, but he easily avoids you. This time, as he moves to counter you, you observe him carefully, getting a sense of his attack pattern.

About half way through your sparring match, neither of you has managed to take the other down yet, and you notice something akin to surprise and fondness shining in Ten’s eyes. A fact which you’ll use to your advantage.

Letting him get in a hit on your side, you react accordingly. Hissing slightly, you stumble back, noticing out of the corner of your eyes how Taemin takes a worried step forward, anger shining in his eyes as he stares his brother down. You nearly furrow your brow in confusion, but you have a plan to stick to.

“Shit,” you hear Ten curse, not realizing how powerful he made that hit, and thinking it’s worse than it is.

You take this opportunity as he moves in with a lowered guard to swipe his feet from under him, landing him on his back. Moving quickly, you pin him down, smirking victoriously.

“You shouldn’t let your opponent distract you,” you tease, a smirk pulling at your features as he looks up at you in shock. “Second rule they teach you in combat training.”

You let out a small giggle, staring into Ten’s eyes as his expression morphs into one of awe. He still can’t believe you’ve been able to pin him. Not just once, but twice.

All too soon, you’re standing up off of him, and helping him to his feet. Again, he misses the feeling of you touching him, whether it be above or beneath him.

“Well, I think I’ve had enough training for one day,” you yawn, stretching your hands once more above your head. Your shirt manages to ride up slightly this time, exposing a sliver of skin on your stomach, and driving the two men wild. Taemin licks his lips while Ten swallows slightly.

“You’ve done well today,” Taemin comments, coming over to hand you your water bottle, of which you thank him.

“Yeah, you’re already further along than we both could have expected,” Ten adds, making you look down in slight embarrassment.

“Oh, you guys are just saying that,” you chuckle, feeling your face heat up in the next moment.

“No,” Ten shakes his head.

“We’re not,” Taemin finishes.

Their words only serve to make you more bashful, turning away slightly as you take a drink of water. You fail to see the both of them staring at you fondly before turning to narrow their eyes at each other.

Letting out a small sigh, you place your water bottle on one of the tables off to the side. Just as you’re about to unwrap your hands, a gentle touch stops you. Looking up reveals Ten smiling softly at you.

“Here,” he says, beginning to undo the tape, “let me.”

You don’t say anything in response, opting to nod your head slowly instead. Silently, you watch Ten work, eyes following his every movement as he slowly and carefully removes the tape from around your hands.

His touch is so gentle, so soft, that it warms your heart. His touch makes you feel as if he’s treating you as if you’re a delicate glass object, but you know he doesn’t think that. A fact which only causes a small smile to grace your lips.

It’s as if the two of you are in your own world once he finishes taking the tape off of your hands. The two of you unaware of your surroundings for a moment as you stare into each other’s eyes. You can hear your heartbeat ringing in your ears as you see him glance at your lips.

A clearing of someone’s throat manages to break the two of you out of your silent bubble. Ten forces himself to tear his gaze away from you, looking over to see Taemin standing there with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Come on,” he says, turning away from you in the next moment. “Let’s go.”

Without another word, Taemin grabs his things and heads out of the room towards the stairs, the two of you following close behind.

Ten can feel his heart racing in his chest, thinking back to only moments ago. It felt as if it was only you and him. He knows the two of you just shared an intimate moment together, and he could not be happier. It would have been better only if Taemin didn’t interrupt. He sighs, already planning his next move carefully. He knows he has to get you alone. Then, and only then, will he be able to make you his, once and for all.

The next few weeks seem to pass by in a blur for you. Between Damien’s funeral, his wake at your university, not having to go to class or worry about assignments, and also training practice, you’ve been fairly busy. Luckily, you’ve had a good support system consisting of your family, friends, and even your two bodyguards.

Over the past few weeks, the three of you have grown closer to one another. So much so, you gladly consider them your friends, rather than two men hired to protect you. You wouldn’t trade them for anything, and you’re glad you have them with you. However, you’ve noticed that their behaviour has been a little off the past few days.

As for Ten and Taemin, their mock rivalry has become even more intense between them since that first day of training. Their competition over who will have you, and win your heart, is at the forefront of their minds. Well, besides looking after you, of course, but that’s just second nature to them by now.

If one gets an opportunity to spend alone time with you one day, the other gets an equal opportunity the next. Neither of them have gained an upper hand yet, for you don’t seem to favour one over the other, a fact that bothers both of them. Each of them believe they’re better for you, they just need to get you to see that before it’s too late.

Currently, you’re sitting at the dinner table for the evening with your parents, discussing what the upcoming week is going to look like. You let out a sigh as you pick at your food, each of your guards respectfully stationed around the room.

“We’ll be hosting a charity event in a few days’ time at our home here,” your father explains, and you nod absentmindedly. “I expect you to be on your best behaviour, and for you to dress appropriately.”

“What’s that supposed to mean,” you quirk a brow, looking up from your plate to meet your father’s gaze.

“You have to wear a dress this time, (Y/n),” your mother chimes in, taking a sip of her drink.

“Excuse me?” You state in disbelief. “I can wear a dress if the occasion calls for it.”

“We know, sweetie. It’s just that it’s not your usual style,” your mother adds.

“Just because I don’t particularly like wearing fancy dresses doesn’t mean I can’t,” you sigh.

“Alright,” your mother chuckles. “Maybe you can go out tomorrow to look for a dress with Ayla or someone.”

“I actually think I already have a dress I can wear,” you reply, taking a sip of your own drink.

“I think I know the one you’re talking about,” your father nods. “That will be acceptable.”

“Thanks dad,” you shoot him a small smile. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Standing up, you clear your dishes from the table, bringing them to the kitchen to place them in the sink soon after. You let out a sigh as you begin to make your way to your room for the evening shortly afterwards. You don’t even have to look to know that Taemin and Ten are following close behind.

Stopping just in front of your door, you turn to them.

“I think I’m just going to head to bed early tonight, so you guys are free to do whatever,” you shrug, entering your room in the next moment and closing the door before they can respond.

You’ve been noticing that they’ve both started to stand closer to you than usual lately, going the extra mile to make sure you’re safe. You almost feel suffocated, but you know they mean well. You just need an evening to yourself for once.

The two of them share a look before heading down the hall to their own rooms for the evening, silence hanging thickly in the air. Neither say anything as they enter their respective rooms, both thinking about what dress you could have possibly been talking about. Either way, they both cannot wait to see what you decide to wear when the time comes. Even they get to dress up for the occasion, and both of them cannot wait to show you just how good they can look, especially for you.

Eventually, the day of the event comes and you’re currently in your room getting ready for the evening. You can faintly hear people moving about throughout your house in preparation for the evening, and you begin to wonder why the event is being hosted at your own house. Considering your family is still under threat, having this event at your own house seems a bit counter productive. You just hope there’s a bigger plan in action tonight in case anything goes south.

Letting out a small sigh, you lay the dress you’re going to be wearing this evening on your bed. Luckily, you’re able to get ready by yourself, seeing as your two guards also have to prepare for the evening.

Moving over to your bathroom, you turn on your shower, making sure the temperature of the water is just right before stepping in. Taking your time, you make sure to scrub your entire body clean. After all, there will be a lot of press coverage of the event tonight, and you want to make sure you’re looking, and feeling, your best.

Stepping out of the shower once you’re done, you dry yourself off slowly. Throwing on your robe, you work on doing your hair and make up before changing into your dress for the evening. The last thing you want is to ruin your dress.

About an hour and a half later, you’re finally done your hair and makeup. Checking your phone for the time, you inhale sharply. You didn’t realize how late it got, and guest should start arriving any minute now.

Sure enough, you can hear cars starting to pull up your driveway in the next minute. So much for being ready on time.

Sighing, you move out of your bathroom and back into the main area of your bedroom. You decide to take your time change into your dress for the evening, seeing as you’re already running a little behind on time. If you’re going to be late, might as well make a stunning entrance.

Twenty minutes later, you’ve finished pulling on your outfit for the evening, making sure everything is in place and that you haven’t ruined your hair or your makeup. Looking over yourself one final time in your mirror, you smile at yourself. You’re happy with how you look for the evening, your entire look suiting your figure perfectly.

Slipping on your heels, you smooth out your dress one final time before heading out of your room for the evening, moving to join the guests downstairs.

Making it to the top of the stairs, you find yourself halting. Your eyes scan the crowd of people, all dressed up for this occasion and conversing amongst themselves. You can faintly hear the soft music of the string quartet playing in the background, creating a nice ambiance for the event at hand.

No one has noticed you yet, you just silently watching from your location. All except two men who stand just below you.

“Wow,” Ten breaths out as he watches your form descend on the staircase slowly.

Taemin is able to maintain his composure slightly better than his brother, but that doesn’t stop his eyes from widening slightly as he takes in your full appearance. He can hear his heartbeat ringing in his ears as you make your way towards the two of them, an air of confidence surrounding you like never before.

To say you look stunning would be an understatement. The way your golden gown wraps around your figure makes it look like you’re wearing liquid gold, giving you an almost ethereal glow; makeup and hair done to perfection.

As you walk over to them, you take this time to fully take in their appearances for the evening. Taemin is wearing a dark pinstripe suit with a black and white striped dress shirt underneath, completed with a silk tie tied loosely around his neck with a black and white polkadot pattern scattered upon it. Ten is wearing a simple black suit and tie, but with a red dress shirt tucked underneath. To say they look good would be an understatement.

Reaching the two men, you send them a small smile, causing their hearts to race in their chests.

“Wow,” Ten repeats, eyes continuing to drink in your figure. He can never seem to get enough.

“You look-“ Taemin continues before being cut off by Ten.

“Breathtaking,” Ten finishes with an exhale.

Taemin briefly shoots him a hard look, mad at his brother for taking the words right out of his mouth. He wanted to compliment you before his brother got a chance to.

“Thanks,” you grin, somewhat shyly.

Noticing the way a few men begin to stare at you, Taemin scowls, “that’s not what I was going to say.”

“Than what were you going to say, exactly?” Ten quirks a brow, a silent challenge for his brother.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Taemin narrows his eyes slightly at Ten, on edge already from the continued looks you’re receiving from the males from around the room, as well as from his brother. “Maybe, overdressed.”

His comment catches you off-guard, and you find yourself taken aback slightly. You could have sworn that he looked like he liked what you were wearing.

“Wow, tell me how you really feel,” you grumble, expression falling slightly. This is why you don’t like getting dressed up. Every time you think you look nice, someone always seems to slap you with a backhanded compliment.

“Don’t listen to him, sweetheart,” Ten says, shooting a look towards Taemin before turning to look at you with a soft gaze. “I think you look stunning. Care to dance?”

At this, he offers you his hand, a small smile resting on his features as he watches you carefully. His eyes light up as he sees you smile slightly, gently placing your hand in his as he guides you to the open space of the dance floor.

Placing one hand gently on your waist as the other holds yours in his own, he pulls you closer to himself. As soon as the waltz starts, the two of you are moving across the room, captivating those surrounding you.

Meanwhile, Taemin stands off to the side with a scowl on his face. He knows he did this to himself, but he didn’t mean for his words to come out the way they did. He let his creeping jealousy control his mouth for a moment, and it cost him.

Now, instead of dancing with him, you’re being held in his brother’s arms as you move gracefully around the room. He finds himself biting the inside of his cheek as he stares on, wanting nothing more than to share this moment with you himself.

The whole time, Ten can feel his heart pounding in his chest. He can sense more and more people’s eyes on the two of you as you move around the room, and he couldn’t be happier. He can’t help but to think that now everyone can see that you belong with him. After all, thanks to the whispers from the crowd, he’s confirmed that the two of you are perfect for each other.

Once the music ends, the two of you stand momentarily in the centre of the room once more, just staring into each others eyes. Faint sounds of people conversing with each other as well as the quartet starting up another song can be heard in the background, but you don’t really pay much mind to them. All you can focus on right now is Ten, and the way he’s making you feel.

Staring into his eyes, you can see a certain type of fondness reflecting in them, causing your mouth to go dry. No one has ever looked at you like that, like you’re the greatest thing in the entire world; a gift to be treasured and valued.

“What an entrance!” Your father’s voice manages to pull you out of your little bubble, practically jumping out of Ten’s hold in the next second to stand tall and face your father. “I’ve been overhearing nothing but good things about you since you walked down those stairs.”

“Thanks, dad,” you mutter, a small heat creeping up your neck.

“You look beautiful, dear,” your mother smiles at you, causing you to mirror her smile.

“Thank you,” you subconsciously smooth your dress out once more. “As do you.”

“The charity auction should begin in a few minutes,” your father informs you, to which you nod your head, noticing how both Ten and Taemin have come to stand beside you now. “I expect you to continue to be on your best behaviour.”

“Yes, father,” you sigh, having to keep yourself from rolling your eyes at him.

Your mother simply sends you a wink as they walk away arm in arm. You let out another sigh, shaking your head slightly.

“Just for one fucking event, I don’t want to have to be ‘prim and proper’ like this,” you mutter under your breath, low enough so no one can hear you, yet your two guards manage to do so.

At your words, they share a brief glance between each other, their brows quirking slightly as they follow you to the side of the room.

The next ten minutes or so pass by fairly slowly for you, having to converse with some of the upper elites, and those your parents work with. Many of them either rub you the wrong way, or treat you as if you’re incapable of having a coherent thought, which just irks you to no end. Yet another reason why you dislike getting dressed up like this, many people just equate you to simply another pretty face, basing your worth in how you look, rather than your intelligence.

You hear the sounds of the quartet slowly coming to a close as the tapping of a microphone draws people’s attention to the front of the room. You’re grateful for the interruption, considering you don’t think you could have lasted much longer listening to this senator talk about how much times have changed.

“Good evening to all, and thank you all for coming,” your father begins to speak as people shift towards where he and your mother are standing. “I would like to take the time now to-“

You zone out slightly to what he’s saying, no longer that interested in what’s going on. You just want this event to be over so you can put your feet up and rest for the evening, and you haven’t even been socializing for more than a few hours. Shifting from foot to foot, you attempt to get comfortable on your feet, which are beginning to ache from standing for this amount of time in your heels.

Taemin stands to your right while Ten stands off to your left, both of them glancing to you out of the corner of their eyes every now and then. They can see your disinterest in this whole ordeal, even though you hide it well.

Taemin takes this time to look around the room too, scanning for any potential threats that may be lurking around if they’ve managed to slip through the tight security at your home.

Ten, on the other hand, chooses to observe you more closely. He notices how you keep shifting from side to side like you’re uncomfortable, and he realizes that your shoes must be making standing like this quite difficult. He has to resist the urge to wrap his arm around you and tell you to lean on him for support, or better yet, take you into his arms so he can hold you, letting you relax while also showing you how he can care for you. However, he doesn’t want to cause a scene.

Letting out a long breath, you allow your eyes to wander around the area as the auction begins. Your eyes catch movement off to the side, thinking it unusual for someone to be ducking low through the crowd, almost as if they do not wish to be seen.

Your eyes widen slightly as you see the figure draw a small metallic object from their side. Without waiting, you nudge Ten beside you, motioning to the figure off to the side with your head, soon doing the same with Taemin who already seems to have his gaze locked on the mysterious figure.

Moving swiftly, they both stand to guard you, Taemin taking the front while Ten takes the rear. Just in time, too, for in the next moment, a scream is heard from the side of the room, the crowd parting to reveal a security guard on the floor with a knife sticking out of his neck.

The stranger soon moves quickly towards the front of the room where your parents are. The figure draws a gun, but before he can raise it in the air, he’s gunned down by Siwon.

A moment of silence passes over the room, and you’re just about to breathe a sigh of relief when all hell breaks loose.

Many people standing in the crowd pull weapons from their clothing, turning either against your parents, or coming to surround you. Many of the others simply attempt to run out of the house in fear, scrambling as people push over each other to escape harms way.

“Why does this not surprise me,” Taemin huffs, hearing Ten grunt in response as they both pull out their respective weapons.

Three men and three women begin to close in on the three of you, setting your heart racing in your chest. You can see both Natasha and Siwon already in combat with a few others, doing what they can to protect your parents as separate guards lead them away to safety. You hope they get out okay.

Taemin is quick to make the first move, firing his gun and managing to kill the man in front of him. The others spring into action immediately following, and you stand tense in between it all.

You have no weapon on you, nor means of escape at the moment. You’re just lucky someone hasn’t shot you yet, but you suppose you have Ten and Taemin to thank for that. They’ve managed to get the group of six down to two, facing off the last one’s still standing.

Bodies surround you, and you can feel yourself becoming lightheaded. You need to get out of here, just as your parents have managed to do.

“Step aside, you’re not the one who has to die,” the female in front of Taemin says, holding her gun pointing at his head as he does the same to her.

“But you do,” he replies, a slight crazed look in his eyes as he fires a quick shot into her skull.

No one threatens you and gets to live. No one.

He turns to check on you in the next second, making sure you’re not hurt, and still breathing. His hands come to rest on your shoulders as he looks you over briefly, noticing how Ten is still locked in combat with his final opponent.

Your eyes catch movement on the balcony above you, noticing a sniper taking aim at where you’re standing. Your eyes widen significantly.

“Taemin, look out!” You manage to push the two of you down just in time to avoid the first shot.

“Fuck,” he manages to get out through grit teeth, rolling the two of you over so his body now covers yours since you landed on top of him when you pushed the two of you down.

He manages to jump up in time to take aim and kill the sniper, but not before being grazed by the second bullet.

At this point, Ten has finished off the final attacker and moved over to the two of you. Taemin grasps his side as Ten helps you off of the floor.

“Shit, are you okay?” You worriedly look over Taemin, noticing the blood starting to seep from between his fingers from where he holds his hand over his wound.

“It’s only a scratch,” he assures you, managing to hide his wince in pain. “Trust me, I’ve had worse.”

“We need to get her out of here,” Ten says, the two of them locking eyes and nodding their heads briefly at one another. If there’s one thing they can agree upon, it’s your safety.

Without another word, they begin to guide you over to the exit in which your parents have taken which is hidden behind the staircase. However, before you can enter, a bullet whizzes past your head, making impact with the wall.

Glancing over your shoulder reveals four new figures approaching the three of you, guns raised and ready to shoot.

“Get her out of here, I’ll catch up with you guys,” Taemin says, pushing you behind his back to cover you.

“Right,” Ten nods, grabbing your arm and practically dragging you to the hidden exit.

“But you’re injured!” You see Taemin briefly glance at you from over his shoulder. His heart warms knowing you care about him.

“I’ll be fine,” he assures you, a subtle grin pulling at the corner of his lips as he hears the worry in your voice. “Now go! I’ll be right behind you.”

Without waiting for you to respond, Ten drags you down the hallway of the exit, grabbing your hand in his as he runs down the hall. Your shoes manage to get kicked off, for which you’re grateful for as you continue to run down the passage which leads to the secret garage.

Bursting through the door, Ten immediately leads you over to one of the cars. Opening the back door for you, he motions for you to get in quickly. You shoot him a worried look, glancing back to the now closed door which you’ve just come through.

“He’ll be fine,” he reassures you. “Now, let’s go, we need to get you out of here.”

You simply nod your head in response, shuffling into the back seat. Once you’re seated inside the car, Ten quickly closes the back door in order to jump into the drivers seat in the next moment.

Flipping down the visor, the keys fall into his lap. Moving quickly, he puts the keys into the ignition, starts the engine, and practically tears out of the garage. You grip the seat anxiously, feeling as if your heart is about to burst through your chest at any moment given how hard it’s beating.

After a few minutes of driving in silence, you manage to calm yourself down enough to speak.

“Where are you taking me?” You ask, and you can see his eyes glance at your figure from the rearview mirror.

“To a safe house,” he replies, eyes flicking back to the empty road in front of him.

“What about my parents? And Taemin?” You shift slightly, brow creasing in worry.

“They’ll be fine. Your parents have their own agreed upon safe house, and you have your own. Taemin will contact me when he can, and so will either Siwon or Natasha,” he explains, and you find yourself only relaxing slightly. You can tell that you’re still very on edge, Ten’s words not comforting you as much as you want them to.

“What is this safe house, and how come I’ve never been told of it before?” You look up to meet his gaze in the rearview mirror for a moment before he’s shifting his gaze back on the road once more.

“It’s mine and Taemin’s old house which we agreed upon to use with your parents when we were first hired, if a situation like this ever arose,” Ten goes on to say, and you nod your head slightly, moving to rest your forehead against the cool glass of the window.

“I just hope they’re all okay,” you mumble, fiddling with your hands in your lap.

His heart pangs in his chest, hearing how small your voice sounds at the moment. “They will be. I’m sure of it.”

Nothing else is spoken between the two of you for the rest of the car ride, and before you know it, Ten cuts the engine. It feels like you’ve been driving for hours, but you’re pretty sure that’s only because of how wound up you currently are, and Ten making sure the two of you aren’t being followed.

Stepping out of the car, you wince slightly. Looking down reveals a gravel driveway, the small rocks digging into the skin of your bare feet.

Ten follows your gaze, noticing how you’ve lost your shoes. The corner of his lips twitch as he moves beside you, helping to support you weight as the two of you walk to the door.

Unlocking the front door, Ten is the first to enter, flicking on the lights as you shuffle in behind him. Once you’re inside, he closes the door behind you, locking it as soon as it shuts.

Taking this time now, you look around the entranceway of the house. A small smile pulls at your features as you take in small photos lining the walls, and little trinkets on the hallway table. It’s simple, but nice.

The house is located surrounded by a few hills, a forest to the front while a cliff dropping off to the ocean resides at the back. It’s a simple one story house, but it’s bigger than it looks. One thing that’s most surprising though, is how clean everything looks.

“Nice place you have here,” you comment, moving slowly through the hallway as you take in everything around you.

“Thanks,” Ten hums, slipping off his shoes and following you down the hall.

“I’m honestly shocked at how clean it is,” you say, and you can hear him chuckle.

“We have an old friend of ours look after out place while we’re gone,” he tells you, leaning on the side of the wall as he watches you now stare out the back windows. “He’s the only one we trust to do so.”

“That’s nice,” you shoot him a small, forced smile over your shoulder, and he can feel his lips tug downwards.

He can tell you’re still very worried about everything that has happened tonight, and whether or not your parents are okay. In the back of his mind, he hopes that worry doesn’t extend too much to his brother.

“Here, I’ll see if I can find something for you to change into,” he says, pushing himself off of the wall and heading towards his bedroom.

From the soft footfalls of your feet behind him, he can tell you’re following him. Your arms are crossed in front of your chest as you nervously chew on your bottom lip, worry clouding your mind.

Entering his room, you immediately sit on his bed, eyes following his movements without fully registering his presence. It’s only when you feel the bed dip beside you, as well as a gentle hand being placed upon your shoulder, do you jolt, startled out of your thoughts by the sudden touch.

“Are you going to be okay?” He asks, concern evident on his features.

“I will be once I have some answers,” you sigh, rubbing the side of your head.

“I’ve laid out some clothes for you,” he says, motioning beside him on the bed with his head where an old pair of sweatpants and t-shirt lay. “Let me know if there’s anything else you need.”

He shoots you one final look before standing up, and going to leave you alone in his room. You notice him grabbing a separate change of clothes before he slips out the door, closing it softly behind him. Once he’s gone, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’ve been holding.

Looking down at your hands in your lap, you curl and uncurl your fingers a few times to calm yourself. Standing up, you think over the events of the night once more, anxiety eating away at your nerves.

For starters, you do not have your phone on you, so you have no way of checking social media or news outlets, nor do you have a way of contacting anybody. You’re now in an unfamiliar area, despite it being a safe house for you in times like these. Taemin has been shot, and you don’t know if he’s actually gotten out alive. Not to mention the fact that you don’t even know if your parents have gotten out alive.

At this point, all you can do is wait for an answer, and hope for the best.

Releasing another breath, you move over to the dresser, deciding it would be a good idea to let your hair down for starters. Taking a look at your reflection, you notice your makeup slightly smudged from the events of the night.

Moving over to the bed, you grab the change of clothes left for you, soon moving over to the adjacent bathroom attached to Ten’s room. He won’t mind you having a quick shower, hopefully. Besides, you want to wash your makeup off. You’re just hoping you don’t turn into a raccoon from your mascara.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re stepping out of the shower. The warm water helped to relax your muscles slightly, and wash away some of the worry on your mind. Changing quickly, you decide you’re too warm for pants at the moment. Luckily, the shirt he’s given you is quite large, managing to cover all the important bits.

Folding your dress nicely, you place it on the dresser once you’re finished. The last thing you want is for it to wrinkle considering how nice the material is.

You spare a glance at yourself in the mirror one final time, grateful that you’ve managed to avoid looking like a racoon after washing off your makeup. Taking a deep breath, you exit the room.

Making your way back to the living room, you hear the faint sounds of the television drifting down the hall. From the sounds of it, you can tell Ten is watching the news as the anchor reports on the turn of events this evening at your parent’s charity auction.

Hearing movement, Ten glances over to the entrance of the living room, his breath catching in his throat as he takes in your appearance. Shamelessly, he allows his gaze to trail your body, taking in the sight of your bare legs as you stand in nothing but his shirt. His whole body feels like an electrical current is running through him at the moment, feeling himself become warm.

Noticing his gaze, you shuffle on your feet briefly before moving to sit beside him on the couch. “I hope you don’t mind that I took a shower.”

“No,” he takes a deep breath in, and fuck, you smell like him now. He clears his throat, “not at all.”

“Any updates?” You ask, curling your legs beside you on the couch as you focus your attention on the screen in front of you. Ten has yet to stop staring at you.

“Yeah, Siwon called about ten minutes ago. Your parents are both fine,” he sees you visually relax, shoulders dropping in relief as you let out a sigh of relief. “Looks like the special ops forces were able to make it in time to catch the leader behind the attacks as well.”

“Who was it?” You eyebrow quirks, now turning your full attention to him.

“Just some underground, rich, drug lord,” Ten shrugs casually. “I think his name was Donnie Yu.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” you smile weakly. You have a feeling your troubles have only just begun.

“Yeah, you might not need me anymore after tonight,” Ten jokes, attempting to lighten the mood, but you can sense the hint of seriousness in his voice. He almost sounds disappointed.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” you shoot him a smirk, nudging him playfully on his thigh with one of your feet, allowing your leg to rest over his soon after. From the way he drapes his arm over your skin, you know he doesn’t mind. “Speaking of, how’s Taemin? Any news on him?”

You feel him tense slightly beneath you, looking at you from the corner of his eyes as his expression drops slightly.

“He’s fine,” comes his short reply, only continuing after the look you send his way. “He called shortly after Siwon did. Said he’s at the hospital getting his wound sorted out, though he said he wanted to get here as soon as he can.”

“He should rest,” you answer, running a hand through your damp locks slightly.

“That’s what I told him, too,” Ten huffs, nearly rolling his eyes as he recalls his brother’s words. “He told me he was worried about you.”

“That’s… sweet of him,” the corner of your lips twitch upwards.

“He said the hospital wants to keep him overnight for observation, so he should be here sometime within the morning,” he replies, doing his best to ignore the fact that even when he’s not here, Taemin still has some sort of effect on you.

You simply nod your head in response, moving to rest your chin in the palm of your hand in the next moment while leaning your elbow on the arm of the couch. The two of you sit in silence for a few minutes, and you notice how Ten begins to rub his thumb gently against the skin of your leg, sending a small shiver up your spine. He smiles slightly.

As the news continues to cover the events of the night, Ten notices you shifting slightly in discomfort beside him. Grabbing the remote, he opts to change the channel. Anything to get your mind off of things.

“Thanks,” he hears you mumble after a moment, causing him to hum. “I don’t know if I could handle reliving that again.”

“I understand,” he squeezes your leg softly. “Those kinds of moments can be difficult to process, and considering what you’ve already been through, you’re taking things surprisingly very well.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You lock gazes with him, eyebrow quirked in question.

“What I mean is, you’re stronger than you think you are, and I admire you for that,” he admits, another small smile gracing his features. “You’re not all you appear to be.”

“Oh,” you breathe, looking down at the floor in slight embarrassment. You’re not expecting this to come from him, but it warms your heart nonetheless. “Thanks.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” his face becomes serious in the next moment, taking you slightly aback. “You don’t know how scared I was tonight.”

“Scared?” Your brow furrows.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” looking into his eyes, your own widen slightly seeing the serious look in them.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” you tease, attempting to lighten the atmosphere.

“Who says I want to?” He smirks, but the sincerity in his voice makes your heart skip a beat.

Nothing is spoken between the two of you for a moment. Instead, the two of you opt to stare into each other’s eyes. You can sense the mood between the two of you has shifted, the noise from the television becoming drowned out in the background.

At this point, the two of you have sat up slightly, subconsciously shifting closer to each other. Ten has yet to move his touch from your leg, his hand itching to feel more of your skin beneath him. You look so beautiful like this, and now there’s no one here to interrupt you.

Your lips part slightly, and you notice his gaze flicker down to them. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, heart racing in his chest as his thoughts run wild. He knows he shouldn’t be doing this, especially not after the evening you’ve had, but he wants you. He needs you.

Just as he begins to lean in, you manage to blink a few times, clearing your head and pulling away slightly. You want this too, but you don’t know if you’re making the right choice.

You’ve been getting the impression that Ten cares for you, in more than a client sort of way, but you don’t want to get your hopes up. If this truly is the end, and you don’t need him anymore for your protection, does he view taking you to bed as a reward for his service? You don’t know, and you don’t really want to suffer through that heartache. You’ve already lost enough as it is.

You clear your throat, successfully pulling him out of his trance and causing him to look at you with mild concern on his features. Is he reading the situation wrong?

“I think I’m going to go to bed now,” your voice comes out as a whisper, but he still manages to hear.

“You can take my room, I’ll sleep on the couch,” he almost sighs, heart clenching in his chest as he leans back slightly. He’s so close to having you all to himself. So close.

You don’t respond, simply opting to nod your head instead. You need to get out of there before you do something you’ll regret.

Sliding your one leg off of his lap, you stand from the couch. Moving slowly, you exit the living room, eyes holding a specific type of sorrow for not being able to take what you want. You don’t want your status to be used as another notch on somebody’s belt.

The whole time, Ten follows your movements with his gaze until he can no longer see you. His breathing begins to deepen as he catches a glance at the sorrow in your eyes as you turned to leave the room. He knows what you’re thinking, and like hell is he going to let you slip through his fingertips like this. Not when he has you all to himself, and most certainly not when you want him just as badly and he wants you.

Pushing himself off of the couch, his thoughts begin to swirl with desire and desperation for you, and only you. He cares too much for you to not show you exactly how he feels, and how well you deserve to be treated. Determination flashes in his eyes, along with something else, but it disappears as quickly as it comes.

You make it about halfway down the hall when you feel yourself get grabbed by your shoulder, and pushed into the wall. Your eyes widen as you see the dark look in Ten’s eyes; the lust that swirls deep in his irises.

“Ten, what are you-“

You don’t even get the chance to finish your sentence before he’s smashing his lips to yours, hands coming up to cup the sides of your face as he presses himself into you. Your breath gets caught in your throat momentarily, hands frozen at your sides as he pulls away briefly to stare into your eyes once more.

“Like I said,” he says, his voice a few tones deeper than before, “I’m not letting you go so easily.”

With that, he reattaches his lips to yours briefly before trailing his lips along the side of your jaw, nipping at your skin. A gasp escapes your lips as you feel him bite down lightly on your neck, your eyes falling shut in bliss.

“Just tell me to stop and I will,” he mumbles against your skin. “Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll leave you be.”

“Ten,” the way you nearly whimper his name sends a shiver up his spine, feeling you wrap your arms around him to tangle your fingers in his hair. “I do want this, fuck, I really do, but-“

“But nothing, darling,” he cuts you off, leaning his forehead against your own. “Those others before me, they never deserved you. I want you. Not the president’s daughter. Not anyone else. Just you.”

His words cause you to inhale a sharply. Your heart flutters in your chest at how sincere he sounds, him being able to sooth your worries with every word that is spoken.

“Even if it’s just for one night, please,” he nearly begs, “let me have you. Let me worship you the way you deserve.”

His hands now drop to your sides as he falls to his knees before you, looking up at you with such admiration and want. Your head begins to spin as you barely manage to nod your consent, one hand coming to tangle itself in his hair as he smirks up at you.

“You don’t know how happy you’ve just made me, baby girl,” he hums, pressing his face into your stomach as his hands begin to run up the sides of your thighs. “I’m going to make you feel so good.”

“Then what are you waiting for,” you smirk down at him, your persona immediately flipping, only serving to turn him on further as his eyes darken even more.

“Nothing,” he hums, pushing your thighs apart slightly as you lean back into the wall.

Bringing his hands up, he allows them to slip underneath the material of your shirt, feeling your skin beneath them and biting his lip as he feels you shiver beneath his touch. He takes this opportunity to trail his lips over every inch of your skin bared to him, leaving small nips here and there on the insides of your thighs.

He takes his time, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your panties as he drags them down your legs, tossing them to the side once he’s gotten them off of you. He locks eyes with you, placing your one leg over his shoulder as he breathes in your scent deeply. He can’t help but let his eyes fall shut in bliss as he turns his head to bite a mark into your thigh. You smell amazing, and all his.

Feeling you fingers tighten their hold in his hair, he smirks. Deciding to give you what you want, he turns back to face your aching entrance, seeing your lips twitch in anticipation. Flicking his tongue out, he gently grazes your clit, making sure to keep eye contact with you, and not wanting to miss a single reaction you give him.

The gasp you offer him is like music to his ears, and he can hardly wait to elicit more sounds from those gorgeous lips of yours tonight. He’ll take everything you have to offer him, and more.

Diving back in, he licks a strip from your entrance all the way to your clit, sucking it gently into his mouth as he watches you throw your head back in bliss. His hands tighten their hold on your thighs as he circles his tongue over your clit, bringing it back down to collect the sweet nectar that drips from your core.

He can’t help but hum at the taste of you on his lips, allowing his eyes to fall shut once more. This all he’s ever dreamed of, and more. He could never get tired of this, of you.

“Fuck, darling, you taste so good,” he hums against your core, causing a moan to escape your lips, grinding down slightly on his face.

Bringing his tongue back to your entrance, he begins to thrust it into you, feeling your walls clench around him. He feels you starting to move rhythmically against his tongue as he circles your clit once more, loving how you begin to fuck yourself on his face.

By now, your juices are running down his chin, his hands pulling you as close to him as possible. Unfiltered moans of his name slip past your lips, and he swears something within him has finally snapped. Seeing you like this, and hearing you call out for no one but him drives him insane.

Picking up the pace, he can tell you’re getting closer to the edge. He continues to eat you out like you’re his last meal, wanting to see you fall apart for him, and only him.

With a loud cry of his name, your back is arching off the wall, legs trembling as you come. He swears there’s no sight more beautiful, nor sound as sweet, and he wants to experience this again, and again, and again.

He’s so glad that he gets to experience you like this, that he nearly growls at the thought of his brother having gotten to you before he could, and in that moment, he makes a vow to himself. You’re his, not his brother’s. His brother will never have the joy of knowing what you look like when you come for him, of having you sigh his name in pleasure. No, Ten won’t allow it. After tonight, he’ll never let another have you like this, ever again.

Pulling away from you, he licks his lips. Your chest rises and falls with every breath you take, and he smirks to himself seeing how your legs still shake slightly as he sets you back on your own two feet.

Slowly standing back up, he’s painfully aware of how hard he’s become, feeling himself strain against the material of his pants. He takes a moment to take in the sight of you, still in his shirt, a panting mess from the orgasm he’s just given you. He swears you’ve never looked more perfect than in this moment.

He feels your hands sneak beneath the material of his shirt, taking the hint and removing it in the next second. This time, a shiver runs down his spine at the feeling of your hands trailing over his skin. He attaches his lips to yours once more, thumbs gently brushing over your erect nipples through his shirt.

A small moan escapes past your lips as you feel him grind himself into you, feeling how hard he’s become. Your arms sneak around his back, pulling him even closer as he deepens the kiss, a low groan sounding in his chest.

Breaking away from his lips, you allow your own to travel down his neck, sucking marks of your own into his skin, and eliciting small whines from his lips. He tilts his head back in bliss as he feels you bite down on a particularly sensitive spot on his neck, pride filling his chest as you mark him as yours.

Feeling his hands trail underneath your shirt, you move to take it off, but he stops you.

“No, leave it on,” he growls, nails biting into the skin of your hips. Seeing you in his own shirt ignites a possessive spark in him, loving the fact that you’re covered in nothing but him tonight.

He bites his lip as he sees you nod out of the corner of his eyes, feeling your hands beginning to fiddle with the waistline of his pants. Your fingers hook at the top, sliding the material down his legs until he can kick it off and to the side. A low groan escapes his lips as he feels you wrap your hand around his cock, pumping him a few times before lining his tip up with your entrance.

Through his haze of lust, he manages to remember something, grabbing your wrist to halt your movements.

“Wha-“ he cuts you off with a brief kiss to your lips, moving to pull away from you in the next second, but you stop him, seemingly reading his thoughts. “It’s fine, I’m on the pill.”

“Shit,” he barely gets out through gritted teeth as you reposition him at your entrance.

Ever so slowly, he begins to enter you. He can hear his heartbeat racing in his ears and his eyes nearly roll into the back of his head at the feeling of you fully wrapped around him. Nothing could have ever prepared him for the feeling of your warm walls pulsing around him, fitting him so perfectly. Almost as if you’re made for him.

Resting his arms beside you on the wall, he buried his face into the side of your neck. He needs to take a moment to catch his breath, and once he’s calmed down enough, he feels your own arms wrap around his back, nails biting into the skin of his shoulders.

Testing the waters, he give a shallow roll of his hips into yours, loving the way your head tilts back, allowing him better access to your neck. You seem to read his mind, for in the next moment, your one leg comes to wrap around his waist as his hand grips the skin of your thigh tightly. He pulls you closer as he pushes you harder into the wall, wanting to feel all of you pressed up against him.

He sets a slow pace to start, making sure to hit deep with every thrust. Your sounds serve to edge him on, small growls of your own name slipping past his lips as he succumbs to the feeling of all of you pressed against him.

“Fuck,” he moans, hearing your breath hitch as he hits a certain spot within you. “You take my cock so well, baby girl.”

A low groan of his name is all he receives in response from you, smirk pulling at his lips as he begins to pick up the pace, feeling you tighten your hold around him. He loves the effect he’s having on you, and knowing that he’s the only one able to do this sets his head spinning.

“Right there, fuck,” you whimper right in his ear, and he can feel his cock twitch in excitement.

He can feel you getting closer to the edge for the second time that night as he starts to pound into you. The way your walls are squeezing him so tightly has another moan of your name slipping past his lips. He never wants this moment to end.

Your whimpers of his name are starting to become more frequent, feeling the coil in your stomach tightening once more as you near your peak. You nearly scream once you feel his free hand reach in between your bodies to flick at your clit.

He locks gazes with you, and the almost primal look in his eyes is the final push that sends you tumbling over the edge and into your second orgasm of the night. Your scream gets lodged in your throat as you lean forward, biting into the skin of his shoulder as pleasure shoots through every nerve of your body.

“That’s it, baby, let go,” he praises, feeling himself following you over the edge as he comes within you, burying himself as deep as he possibly can, “just like that, fuck.”

Nothing is heard besides the sounds of your panting, breaths mingling together as you both come down from your highs. You release the hold your teeth have on his shoulder, legs shaking as he sets you back onto your own two feet.

Resting his forehead against yours once more, he looks deep into your eyes, “you’re amazing.”

His words have a small heat rising to your cheeks as you shoot a small grin his way. You allow yourself to relax as he pulls out of you, feeling his seed spill out of you and begin to drip down your thighs.

“So much for my shower,” you giggle, and he smiles at you, feeling his stomach flip at the sound of your laughter.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” he says, taking your hand and leading you to his room.

After a warm bath together, the two of you head to bed, with you falling asleep wrapped in Ten’s arms. He smiles down at you, gently brushing your hair back from your face before leaning down and placing a soft kiss onto your forehead.

His heart swell in his chest, one constant thought repeating itself over and over in his head until he’s able to drift off to sleep. Mine.

Ten wakes up the next morning earlier than you, but he doesn’t mind. Sunlight streams through the window, casting a warm glow over your skin and making him smile. You look so peaceful like this, and he couldn’t be happier. He can still hardly believe the events of last night.

Reluctantly, he gets out of bed, deciding to make you both something for breakfast. He runs a hand through his hair, searching around his room quietly for a pair of sweatpants to slip on. Once he find them, he slips out of his room, gently closing the door halfway so as not to disturb you.

Walking down the hall, he notices both of your discarded clothes from last night. Smirking to himself, he decides to clean those up later. After all, it’s just proof that what you did last night actually happened, and wasn’t some made up fantasy his mind conjured up.

Making it to the kitchen, he begins to hum a small tune to himself as he prepares the food. Nothing could make him happier than he is in this moment in time, knowing that you’re his now, and he’s yours.

Meanwhile, the sound of an engine cutting out comes from outside. In the next moment, Taemin steps out of the car, letting out a sigh as he sees his familiar home. All he wants to do is get inside, check on you to make sure you’re okay, and then maybe sleep for a few hours. He’s been on edge ever since last night, and he needs to see your comforting face in order to know everything will be alright.

Stepping through the door, Taemin tosses his jacket to the side, sliding off his shoes in the next moment. Making his way towards the kitchen, he can smell the faint aroma of food cooking. In the back of his mind, he hopes it’s you that’s cooking for him, something he would have no problem getting used to.

Instead, he’s greeted by the sight of his shirtless brother, standing in front of the stove as he cooks something, you nowhere in sight. Narrowing his eyes slightly, Taemin focusses on the red scratch marks lining his brother’s back, and his jaw clenches. Looking to his side, and down the hall, confirms his suspicions, seeing his brother’s clothes scattered on the floor, as well as a pair of panties laying close by. Through the crack in Ten’s door, Taemin spots you curled up in his bed, blissfully unaware to the storm brewing just outside.

Taemin’s anger flares. “What did you do?”

Ten turns around, and it’s at this point that Taemin spots the bright red bite mark displayed proudly on his brother’s shoulder, setting his own blood boiling. That should be him covered in your marks, not Ten.

“Oh, hello there, brother,” Ten smirks, turning off the stove and turning around to see Taemin standing tense in the entranceway to the kitchen.

“How dare you,” Taemin seethes, eyes narrowing as he takes a threatening step towards Ten.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ten feigns innocence, knowing that this will only serve to make his brother even more furious than he already is.

“How dare you touch her,” Taemin’s voice is low, dripping with venom as he feels white hot fury coursing through his veins.

“Well, you weren’t here,” Ten smirks, staring his brother down with a malicious look in his eyes, “and considering how things went, she couldn’t get enough.”

Taemin can feel something within himself snap. He’s supposed to have you, not Ten. You’re his, and if he can’t have you, no one can.

Pulling out his gun, Taemin aims right at Ten’s head, “give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you right now for touching what’s mine.”

“Now, now, brother,” Ten’s grin only widens as he shifts slightly, hand resting on the counter behind him as he feels the handle of the knife against his fingertips. “There’s no need for violence. Haven’t we seen enough?”

“After all this death, what’s one more life?” Taemin tilts his head slightly, almost mockingly.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Ten replies, voice full of malice as he grips the handle of the knife firmly in his hands.

In the next moment, the two of them spring into action, Ten whipping the knife at Taemin, causing him to move out of the way just in time as the knife gets imbedded in the wall. Ten uses this opportunity as Taemin’s gun is lowered to rush over, kicking the gun out of his brother’s hand.

Taemin manages to land a hit against Ten’s side, only to receive a kick to the leg in return. The two men are now caught in a battle back and forth for a good minute before Ten sees an opening, going to attack Taemin’s injury.

Striking quickly, Ten hits Taemin’s bullet wound, causing him to cry out in pain. Using the opening that this has created for him, Ten grabs Taemin, flipping him over and slamming him into the kitchen table.

The loud sound of something breaking jolts you out of your sleep. Rubbing your eyes slightly, you hear the faint sounds of grunts coming from the direction of the kitchen. Furrowing your brow slightly in confusion, you toss the covers off of your body, and begin making your way cautiously out of the bedroom and to the kitchen.

The sight that greets you has your eyes widening in shock. A knife is embedded in the wall near you, while the kitchen table is smashed to pieces. However, that’s not what’s most surprising.

Taemin has Ten pinned against the opposite wall, gun poised right at his head as both their chests heave. You faintly notice a dark red stain slowly spreading on the side of Taemin’s shirt that he must have gotten from the hospital last night, meaning his wound has been reopened.

“You’ve forsaken me for the last time, brother,” Taemin spits, and you take this time to shake your head, pulling yourself out of your temporary frozen state.

“What, the ever-loving fuck, is going on?” You nearly screech, eyes wide as you stare at the two men before you.

“Don’t worry, love, I’ll make sure he’ll never be able to touch you again,” Taemin says from over his shoulder, and due to the angle you’re standing at, you fail to miss the crazed look in his eyes.

“Excuse me?” Your voice holds nothing but pure disbelief.

“How can you be so sure she even wants you?” Ten says, calm despite the situation he’s in at the moment.

“How can you?” Taemin counters, jaw setting in a firm line.

“I think the events of last night are pretty self explanatory, don’t you?” Ten quirks a brow, almost mockingly. “Can I just say, she tastes divine.”

Taemin cocks his gun, moving to press the barrel right against Ten’s forehead, eyes vicious. “Give me one good reason why I should let you live.”

Even though you know Ten’s words are only to provoke Taemin, you can’t keep your eyes from widening. This is all too sudden for you, especially after the events of last night. You thought you were finally safe. You thought you were free.

“What the fuck is going on here?” You repeat your question, locking eyes with Ten as he simply smirks.

“You see, darling,” the gun is pressed harder into his head, “we seem to have both taken a particular interest in you, and now we both want you to ourselves. In our line of work, sharing isn’t really apart of our vocabulary when we want something, and what we want, is you.”

“Do you really think you’re the better option for her?” Taemin growls out. “I can give her everything she’s ever wanted, and so much more. Protect her. Cherish her. Love her.”

“Is that so?” Ten shifts his gaze over to his brother, a mischievous smirk dancing on his lips. “Then why don’t we let her choose.”

“What?” Once again, you’re taken aback by his words.

Taking a step back, Taemin relaxes his shoulders slightly, while Ten lets out a small breath in relief. Both of them are confident you’ll pick them in the end, knowing that whoever you choose, the other will kill in an instant. They’ll make sure they’re the only ones that can have you.

“Go ahead,” Ten locks eyes with you once more, “choose.”

“What are you talking about, you can’t make me choose-“

“You can, and you will,” Ten’s hard voice cuts you off, continuing to stare you down as a chill runs down your spine.

“So who’s it going to be, Princess? Him,” Taemin nods his head briefly in his brother’s direction, narrowing his eyes as they lock with yours, “or me?”

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