#He’s very chill he just owns an alarming amount of guns

[hairenya]

Please stop coming to my class high af we can all tell it’s embarrassing

[quokkacore]

with great power I [lee jeno]

summary: there are two things jeno loves most about his life. one being spiderman, the other being you, his best friend. there’s just one issue: after your father’s death, you decide you hate both spiderman and yourself.

pairing: lee jeno x reader

genre: superhero au, high school au, coming of age, best friends to strangers(ish) to lovers, fluff, ANGST, minor crack

warnings (for this chapter): language, violence, gun violence, the mafia, parental death, police presence, sexual references, bullying (ily san im sorry), the dreamies being dicks to each other, police corruption, towards the end jeno experiences something similar to sensory overload, americanized names, pop culture references, VERY jeno centric

song rec: we go up - nct dream // any song - zico // 21 questions - waterparks // talk (remix feat. megan thee stallion & yo gotti) - khalid // sunrise - ateez // i really like you - carly rae jepsen // dare - gorillaz // stray kids - the tortoise and the hare

word count: 10.5k

a/n: this is so late...... i blame attack on titan. but hey!! better late than never :] a huge thanks to @doderyscoffee​ for beta reading <3

main masterlist // story masterlist

chapter one: jeno and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week

Jeno despised Tuesdays. He was pretty sure that Tuesdays despised Jeno as well because all of his worst days just so happen to be Tuesdays. He was 96% sure that, if there was a god, his day off was on Tuesdays, or that the planets aligned in such a manner on Tuesdays that it caused universal despair and misery. If he was to take Donghyuck's word for it, his chakra attracted negative energy the most on Tuesdays.

When Jeno was 5, his goldfish Pippin had died on a Tuesday. When he had his ass handed to him on the playground by San Choi in the third grade, it was a Tuesday. And in the seventh grade, he'd failed his Spanish test, missed his bus and walked home in the rain only to find out that his Aunt Sunny was at work, he'd left his keys in his locker and that had to wait an hour before she got home to unlock it for him, all on a Tuesday. 

And wouldn't you know it, here he was, late for the first day of senior year, which was, of all days, a godforsaken Tuesday.

In his eternal wisdom, he'd stayed up gaming with Renjun until two in the morning, and because of it, slept through his three alarms, one set at six-thirty, the other at 6:45, the last one at 7:00. 

He'd woken up at 7:17, to the sound of his elderly neighbor's pet chihuahua barking at a pigeon, checked the time, immediately panicked, sped into the shower, gotten dressed in a haste, grabbed a few granola bars from the pantry, and ran out the door while trying to jam his backpack closed, and managed to catch the train at 7:40, which took about twenty minutes to get to his stop, plus a ten-minute walk to school, and class started at 8:10. Not to mention he’d have to stop by the office and pick up his schedule. At best, he’d be five minutes late to his first class. But tardies were tardies, regardless, and the last thing he needed was to lose his perfect attendance streak. 

He fished out his phone while standing on the train, waiting for his stop, scrolling through Instagram, and liking random pictures. A ping! from his phone caught his attention, then two, then a third. He smiled softly when your name popped up on his screen.

[7:48 AM]

y/n: pssst

y/n: shithead

y/n: where r u ????

[7:49 AM] 

y/n: i can sEE u online on ig u know

jeno: …… i'm on the train

jeno: woke up late

y/n: YOURE GONNA BE LATR

y/n: LATE*

y/n: ON THE FIRST DAY OF SENIOR YEAR

[7:50]

jeno: probably, yeah

jeno: it's the school district's fault, why would they make the first day of school on a fkn TUESDAY 

y/n: ohhh yeahh its terrible tuesday

y/n: [sent an attachment!]

[7:51 AM]

jeno: SHUT UP

jeno: you're not funny >:(

jeno: how dare you laugh at my misfortune

y/n: au contraire im hilarious

jeno: meanie :(

jeno: im gonna be late i hate it here

jeno: it'll end up on my permanent record and i'm not gonna get into college and then i'm gonna die,,,

[7:52 AM] 

y/n: sometimes ur worse than hyuck i swear 

y/n: FIRST OF ALL permanent records dont even exist !!!!!! its propaganda duh

y/n: also ur literally never late 

y/n: im sure o n e tardy wont do anything chill

y/n: dont be stupid youll be fine

Don’t be stupid. Too little, too late, he thought, already having got off the train at a previous stop. Now, he was looking for an unoccupied street or alleyway, which, for once, was easy, taking a deep breath before he did the exact opposite of what you’d told him not to do. Don’t be stupid. 

The buildings are low, he thought to himself, it’ll be easier to see me. 

Don’t be stupid.

Too late!

Thwip!

Jeno didn’t hesitate to use the web fluid to pull himself up onto the wall, climbing in a haste, before running and jumping onto the next building. He quickly built up a quick pace, using the web fluid occasionally to swing onto a building slightly out of jumping range. 

Signs in English, Chinese, Korean, and Spanish flew past him as he seemingly flew over the Queens traffic, leaving Flushing behind and crossing quickly into College Point quicker than he would if he took the train. He glanced to his left and caught a view of the bay, and far across it, the LaGuardia airport watchtower.

Jeno had lived in New York City his entire life. He knew Queens like the back of his hand, knew every dingy alleyway, every sketchy street, which restaurants to avoid if you didn’t want to get food poisoning, which convenience store aunties were the nicest and didn’t pinch his cheeks too hard. It was his home, and most likely would be for the rest of his life. 

But seeing it like this, flying past him below as he glided with ease from building to building would never cease to be a sight to him. It was like watching from the perspective of an outsider, seeing people in their cars, walking along the street gave him a brand new perspective. A Jeno’s eye view, he called it, since he was pretty sure he was the only one in New York City.

Another noise from his phone brought him back to reality. He shook his head, stopping briefly to catch his breath and fish out his phone briefly. 

[7:57 AM] 

y/n: let me know when u get here !!!

No time to respond, he put away the phone and continued his trek to school. He had less than ten minutes to get there. But he knew he was already at least five minutes away, much quicker than he would be if he had decided to stick to the train. He smiled a bit to himself, feeling ever so slightly smug.

The hustle and bustle of the city definitely proved challenging to find a place to land without many eyes, but he figured it out eventually, landing behind a dumpster in an alleyway behind a restaurant that he knew was about three or four blocks from the school. He figured it would be a lot better to take it on foot from here. The notebooks he was carrying in his backpack bounced up and down with every step he took. 

After what seemed like forever, the gates to the school appeared in his view, and Jeno felt a joy in his heaving chest, something he would have never thought would happen upon seeing the absolute hellhole that was Samuel Morse High School. 

[8:06 AM]

jeno: just did >:D

Picking up his schedule was both quick and insanely long. He couldn’t stop himself from tapping his left foot while the secretary found his schedule and handed it to him. “Kibum, please hurry,” He muttered, and Kibum raised an eyebrow at him, but his gaze was teasing. “That’s Mr. Kim to you, in school at least.” 

He handed Jeno his schedule a few seconds later. “Tell your Aunt to come pick up her casserole dish, by the way. She left it at my house after my last viewing party.”

“The Bachelor?”

“Please. We’re too classy for that. Drag Race.”

“Ah. I see.”

“Jeno,” Kibum said, staring up at him from his desk, his gaze now much more serious, “Get to class. Happy first day of senior year.”

“Thanks, Mr. Kim.”

He managed to make it to chemistry class at 8:09 with seconds to spare. His eyes quickly scanned the room upon entering, hoping his friends were in the class with him. He caught a few familiar faces, most of which, like San Choi's, he wished to avoid. No one paid him any mind. Everyone was still speaking to the people next to them, no doubt exchanging stories of summer vacation. 

  A hand shot up towards the back, waving at him. A smile stretched across his face as he registered your face, feet not hesitating to carry him towards the empty seat next to you. His heart skipped a beat at seeing your smile, and he tried his best to ignore it.

“Hey,” You greeted, “That was fast. I thought you said you were gonna be late.”

Jeno shrugged, eyes landing on the dark shade of the lab table. “The train was a lot faster than I expected, apparently.”

You wrinkled your nose. “Why do you smell so bad?”

“I, uh… ran a little.” 

You grimaced, and Jeno tried to casually sniff at his slightly sweaty clothes. It’s not that bad. “I still don’t understand why you won’t let me drive you to school. You’re literally next door.”

“I don’t know,” He answered, rolling his eyes, “Maybe it’s because when it comes to that truck, you are absolutely insane. You won’t even let me drink water in that thing.”

The truck in question, a faded red 1998 Chevrolet S-10, had been your gift to yourself for your 17th birthday. You’d spent two summers saving up to buy yourself a truck, and that was what you were able to get for what you had. To say it was a huge piece of junk on wheels was an understatement. 

The thing smelled like mothballs no matter how many air fresheners you bought it, the engine sounded like an old man having a coughing fit, and there was a very suspicious stain in the backseat that wouldn’t go away no matter how many times you scrubbed it. But for some reason, you treated it like it was your own baby. The amount of times you’d yelled at Jaemin for trying to put his feet on the dashboard was too high to count.

You mirrored his movement, eyes rolling as you sighed. “At least let me drive you home after school today. Maybe you can stay and we can finally watch Blade Runner.”

You’d been trying to get him to watch the film for almost a month now, begging and pleading because you insisted that he’d love it. He offered an awkward stare, before opening his backpack and pulling out a notebook. “Can’t,” He mumbled, “I’m headed into Manhattan. I have my internship afterwards.”

“Oh, yeah,” You said nonchalantly, eyebrows shooting up as you remembered, “Park Industries.” 

He was about to reply when Mrs. Baker, the chemistry teacher, finally entered. She’d been working at SMHS for 30 years and had never, apparently, been nice, if his Aunt Sunny’s stories were anything to go by. However, she had apparently always spoken as if she smoked two packs a day. She was rambling about the importance of making the most of senior year academically, adult responsibilities, college, and whatnot. You and Jeno exchanged glances often throughout the monologue, hoping it would end soon. 

“Enough of that,” She said after what seemed like an eternity, “Everyone quiet down, I’m going to call roll.”

Names were quickly called, and Jeno was ready to pull out a pencil and start working with you until Mrs Baker demanded a switch in seats, beginning to call on random names in an effort to deter everyone from speaking. 

"Please not with Choi, please not with Choi," Jeno muttered under his breath, glancing warily at San, who was staring ahead, looking bored. 

San had had it out for Jeno ever since day one, in first grade. For some reason, everything Jeno did seemed to annoy the other boy. He wasn't funny enough, or too nerdy, or too quiet. Jeno was always too much or too little for him. 

You touched his forearm, and he looked towards you. 

“You’ll be fine,” You said softly, trying not to alert the teacher, “You’re not gonna get paired up with him, and you can take it to the office if you need to.” “Yeah, because I’m sure Coach Peralta would be thrilled if someone tried to get his precious midfielder in trouble.”

“Choi, San,” Mrs Baker’s voice rang throughout the room, and Jeno braced himself for the worst, eyebrows furrowing with worry. 

“You’ll be sitting with… L/N, Y/N.” 

Jeno’s shoulders slumped, but your face remained impassive. You picked up your stuff, and pouted silently at Jeno in apology, before making your way to the front. 

“Lee, Jeno,” Mrs Baker called a few minutes later, “You’ll be sitting with Jang, Yeeun.”

He breathed out a sigh of relief. Yeeun is nice, Jeno thought to himself, I could sit with Yeeun. She wasn’t part of his main friend group, but he had tutored her in math during sophomore year in exchange for her helping him with Spanish, and they’d been pretty friendly ever since. 

“Hey,” Yeeun greeted as Jeno sat down, and Jeno smiled at her. 

“Remember, these will be your assigned lab partners for the rest of the semester. No changes, no exceptions.” Mrs. Baker sat down at her desk, before beginning to talk about something Jeno didn’t really pay attention to.

You exchanged glances with Jeno, and he gave you a look of sympathy as you gestured at San with your eyes. San was talking to you about something—probably bragging about some soccer achievement—but you weren’t paying him much attention. Jeno swallowed something growing in his throat as he looked at how your hair looked today. 

It was nothing relatively new, the same hairstyle you used on most days. But still, there was a bit of a shine to it. He wondered vaguely if you had changed your shampoo, the other day you’d been complaining about how itchy your normal shampoo made your scalp—

“You still haven’t told her about how you feel?” Yeeun asked quietly, and Jeno’s head snapped back to look at her, eyes wide.

“W-what? Me. Like Y/N…” He laughed nervously, trying to keep his voice down. He scratched the back of his head, avoiding Yeeun’s accusatory stare. “You’re hilarious, Yeeun. Tell another one.”

Yeeun shook her head. “You’d better hurry before someone else snatches her up, Jen. She’s not gonna wait around for you forever.”

 “I don’t like her, Yeeun.” 

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“Hey! Jeno Lee!”

“Hey! Jaemin Na! What do you want!” Jeno answered as he sat down, mimicking Jaemin’s tone next to him.

“Well, for starters, a million dollars, and second, a date with Yiren Wang, but I doubt you can help me with either of those, so...”

Jeno glanced at the rest of the table. Along with Jaemin, Mark,  Renjun, Donghyuck, and you were watching the interaction between the pair. “Where are the munchkins?” Jeno asked, noticing Chenle and Jisung’s absence. No one could really call them munchkins anymore. That nickname dated back to middle school, before the two underclassmen had gone through growth spurts.

“Eh, they should be here soon,” Renjun said, chewing on a french fry, “How’s your day been?”

“Pretty good so far, I guess. I got AP Calc with Mr. Washington later, though. That man wants me dead.”

You rolled your eyes. “He doesn’t want you dead. I’m telling you, you and Hyuck have been spending way too much time together. You’re being more dramatic than usual and Hyuck’s being more… weird than usual.”

“And just what is so weird about being enthusiastic about senior year, Y/N?” Donghyuck asked, shaking his head, “It’s our last year in this hellhole, I’m excited that we’re finally getting out of here. And besides—”

“Please don’t bring up the fact that you’re abandoning us next year.” Chenle seemingly appeared out of nowhere, sitting next to Renjun, Jisung following quickly behind him.

“Hi, Sungie,” You said with a smile, and Jisung smiled back. “Hi, Y/N.”

“What were you saying, Hyuck?” Jaemin looked at Donghyuck, who had taken the quick interaction as an opportunity to take a bite of his sandwich. His wide eyes darted to the slim boy, cheeks stuffed with chicken. 

“Oh,” He replied after swallowing, “This is gonna be my year. I’m getting male lead for the winter musical and no one is gonna stop me.”

“Do you even know what musical you guys are doing yet?” Mark asked, “What if it’s like… Shrek?”

Jisung made a face. “There’s a Shrek musical?”

Mark nodded, and Renjun laughed.

“I don’t know about male lead, if it’s Shrek. You should try out for Donkey,” The Chinese boy joked, “With those front teeth, you’re a shoo-in.”

The entire table was silent for a moment, before snorts and chortles started pouring out from everyone except Donghyuck.

“Fuck you, Huang.” 

Renjun flashed the friendliest smile he could muster. “Not if you paid me a million dollars.”

The subject remained on extracurriculars, everyone in your group except for Chenle and Jisung now wary of college applications. Donghyuck had been in theater ever since middle school, Renjun was in the robotics club and the debate team with Jaemin, who was also in the student council. Mark was on the math team with Jeno, and you had founded the film club. 

"You're not gonna believe who asked to sign up for film," You huffed, looking kind of confused. The rest of the table looked at you expectantly, and you pursed your lips, almost as if you were trying not to laugh.

"San Choi."

Renjun scoffed. Jaemin raised his eyebrows before letting out a single, humorless laugh. Jeno made a face, poking his plastic fork at you. 

"What is San Choi doing asking to sign up for film?"

"Fuck if I know. He said he needed one more extracurricular if he wanted to get into some college in Florida and he liked going to the movies, so he wanted to try out film."

Mark rolled his eyes. "I swear there's nothing in that guy's head but hot gas. It blows my mind."

"He's a dick," Chenle grumbled, "I'm still not over how he and Wooyoung taped Jisung to the flagpole last year."

Jisung scowled. "I thought we agreed to never bring that up again."

“Do you think they’ll finally calm the fuck down this year?” Jaemin wondered, looking wistful.

You took a sip of your coke and shook your head. “Doubt it. They’re not the hateful eight for a reason.”

The mood at the table turned tense, until Jaemin frowned at his french fries, before sighing and clapping his hands together dramatically. “I would like to hear,” He mused, “About the nuance that theatre gives the cinematic masterpiece that is Shrek when converted into musical form.”

Donghyuck beamed. “Oh, it’s amazing. You see…”

If it was difficult to get Donghyuck to stop talking in general, it was impossible when it was about theater.

The conversation continued on until the bell rang, and the eight of you had to go your separate ways. Jaemin and Jeno had the same class, so they both walked together down a relatively calm hallway. Jaemin looked both ways, before finally lowering his voice. 

“So, you’re going to see Mr. Park today?”

Jeno nodded, looking down at his shoes. “He said he wanted to give me an assignment. Says there’s something big going on.”

Jaemin’s eyes lit up with curiosity. “Did he say what kind of something?” 

Jeno shook his head, pouting slightly. “I’ll let you know tomorrow.” 

Once school was out, Jeno was getting ready to get onto the subway once again, this time heading towards Midtown. It was only day one and, as Jeno had predicted, Mr. Washington probably was out to get him, because he’d swamped the class with homework.

As he left the school, he spotted you in the parking lot, leaning against your car door, texting someone. He glanced at his phone. He still had plenty of time, he figured. He walked over to you, and when you looked up, you smiled. 

“Hey!” Your voice had that signature tone of enthusiasm to it, and Jeno smiled back immediately. 

“Hello,” He sing-songed. “So, I was thinking… are you free on Friday night?”

You looked somewhere above his head, furrowing your eyebrows before you perked up again and nodded. “Yep! Why?”

“I’m free after nine. Maybe then I could come over to your house? So I can finally get you to stop harassing me about Blade Runner.”

You grinned, pumping your fists enthusiastically. “Hell yes,” You answered, “Do you want me to get like, some frozen pizzas or something?” 

“Pizza sounds good,” He said. “Who are you even waiting for?” 

You made a face that made it seem as if you’d just gotten a whiff of rotten milk. “Well—”

Your response was interrupted when the school doors slammed open, and eight figures poured out, carrying themselves with confidence Jeno both envied and despised. He frowned, trying not to react at their loud whooping and laughing. The Hateful Eight.

“Oh.” Jeno averted his gaze, meeting your eyes again.

“Yeah. If you don’t hear from me later it’s because I jumped out of my truck because I don’t wanna work with—”

“Well, hello, gorgeous!” San’s voice filled the parking lot, and Jeno took a deep breath. Your mouth stretched into a tight-lipped smile at the unwanted ‘compliment’. 

“Hey, San.” Your friendly passive aggressive tone almost made Jeno smile. “I’ve been waiting here for like, fifteen minutes. You could have just given me your number and asked me to send you pictures of my notes, you know.”

He shrugged, turning his body so that his back was turned to Jeno. “Sorry, babe. Coach wanted to talk to us about the upcoming season. When he gets going, it’s hard to get him to stop. And besides, where’s the fun in just asking for pictures when I could come here, talk to you, and take the pictures myself?”

You didn’t respond, but rather pulled out your backpack and began digging through it. When you pulled out your notebook, you handed it to San, who flashed a wink at you. You barely held back a gag. 

“Thanks, Y/N. I’ll just be a minute.” 

He walked over to the hood of your truck, and just as you were about to continue your conversation, two figures slung their arms around both of Jeno’s shoulders, causing him to flinch. 

Out of the fifteen soccer players on the team, San and his best friends—seven of them, to be precise—were the worst. The others were pretty nice. But right now, seeing two of those seven surround your best friend made you uneasy. 

Wooyoung was loud. He was also a temperamental brat. His dad owned three used car dealerships over in Brooklyn, so naturally, he thought he owned the entire world. He wasn’t someone who would get too physical in fights, like San, or Jongho, or Yeosang. But when he was angry, he could easily get you to jump into the stratosphere by yelling at you once. Over the years, he’d made several teaching assistants and substitute teachers cry, only getting let off with a slap on the wrist every time. 

 Yunho was terrifying for completely different reasons. He was friendly, but a little too friendly to the people he wanted to control. He could read people like books and could easily manipulate whoever he wanted. But he wasn’t afraid of getting physical either, especially not when he was built like a goddamn Power Rangers Megazord. 

All in all, they definitely weren't anyone you wanted near you, near your friends. Especially considering how much they had it out for your friends. 

"Hey, buddy," Yunho said, looking down at Jeno with a wide smile. "How was summer vacation?"

Jeno gnawed on the side of his cheek as he considered his answer. "Um, it was okay." He looked at you to catch your eyes darting between San, Yunho and Wooyoung, like you were analyzing the situation. "I kinda stayed in and played video games most of the t—"

"Cool, cool," Yunho answered, carding his free hand through his bleach blond hair. "What about you, Woo?"

"Oh, dude, it was so cool," He bragged, "I went to Brazil for like, a month. I went clubbing with Instagram models and shit, it was wild."

You stared at him as he patted Jeno on the back rather aggressively. "Where did you go? Have you ever even left New York?" 

You knew the answer. Only a few times when the debate team went to compete in different states. Jeno spoke up again. "Well, yeah a few t—"

"Doubt it," Yunho scoffed. He craned his head back. "San, you done yet?"

"Almost!" San answered. Yunho turned to face you, and for some reason his smile seemed genuinely kind. “What about you, Y/N?”

You never understood why it was that the soccer team hated your entire friend group, but seemed to tolerate you. It made no sense.

So you shrugged. “Not a lot, I guess. Did my summer reading. Hung out with my friends.” You flashed a reassuring smile at Jeno. “Right, Jen?”

Immediately, he relaxed a little bit. “Yeah.”

San appeared from behind Yunho, Jeno and Wooyoung. “Thanks, Y/N. I owe you one.”

You waved your hand, wanting them to get rid of them quickly. “Don’t mention it. But next time, just text me for my notes. I have to get to work, so…”

“Oh! My bad,” He answered with fake remorse, before unlocking his phone and handing it over to you. “Here. For next time.”

You stifled a deep sigh, punching in the numbers hesitantly. “Just for homework, got it?”

San took his phone back, holding a hand over his heart and raised his head. “On a gentleman's honor,” He declared, and you bit back a laugh. Jeno looked like he was going to hurl.

“San!” The team captain—Hongjoong—called from a few feet away, “Are you guys done yet or what?”

“Coming!” San yelled back.

“Alright, we’ll let you go,” Wooyoung said, patting Jeno on the back again, a bit too harsh for comfort. “Bye, Y/N! See you around.”

 The three of them stalked off, leaving you and a very frazzled Jeno. “Dicks,” You muttered once they were out of earshot. “You good?”

Jeno shook his head, waving his hand dismissively. “I’ll be fine.”

You tilted your head, frowning. “Jeno—”

“I gotta go,” He said quickly. “I’ll see you later?”

You nodded, offering a lopsided smile. “Yeah. Be careful!” 

Jeno offered a deep bow, fluttering his eyelashes. “On a gentleman’s honor,” He sighed, adding a very bad British accent to it. You burst out laughing, eyes squeezing shut.

You didn’t catch the way Jeno’s shoulders relaxed at the sound.

I want you to know now

Baby, it could go down

I don’t wanna talk about it

Baby, let’s just go now

The train ride into Midtown didn’t take too long. He spent it digging through his backpack for his Park Industries lanyard, listening to music and thinking about you.

When you talk right to me 

You gon’ have to do me

Every time you think you’re leaving 

You running back to me

You’d met Jeno when you were six. Truth be told, he didn’t really remember. For him it was like you weren’t there at one point and by the time you were, you were thicker than thieves. It was a difficult time for him. He had just lost both of his parents, and was moving in with his Aunt Sunny and his Uncle Jinki, who were barely out of college at the time. He’d had to move to a new school and basically restart his entire life. You were the first sense of stability in his life for months. 

Your mom lived next to his aunt and uncle. So naturally, you went to the same school and went on the same bus. And somewhere along the way, you two clicked. You’d introduced him to Renjun, Jaemin and Donghyuck. You were there to comfort him whenever he got pushed off the slide by San or Wooyoung. 

He was there for you when your stepdad and stepbrother moved in when you were nine and you weren’t sure how to deal with it. He was there when your mom died when you were thirteen. He’d introduced you and your friends to Mark, Chenle and Jisung. 

And you were there when his Uncle Jinki got killed when he was fifteen. And because fate had an especially cruel sense of irony, it had happened on a Tuesday. You didn’t know, but at the time, he had just gotten his powers. Your comfort and words unknowingly had a secondary effect: he made the decision to use them for good, and… well. The rest was history. 

Can we just talk? Can we just talk?

Talk about where we're goin'

Before we get lost, lend me your thoughts

Can't get what we want without knowin'

Just like when he met you, he didn’t recall an exact moment where he realized he’d fallen in love with you. He knew there was a world where he loved you, but wasn’t in love with you. And he knew that there was a world here he’d fallen in love with you—he was living in that world now. He realized he was living in that world maybe when he was sixteen, and had been stuck in it ever since. 

You were it for him. He’d had crushes before. But never something like this, where he was so aware of your presence around him. It wasn’t the way he was hyper aware of someone like San, or like Yunho or Jongho. It wasn’t out of anxiety or fear, where a shift in mood activated his fight or flight. He was aware of you in a way that only people who truly know each other do, where he could pick up on subtle changes in your behavior, but not out of fear. Rather, out of a desire to take care of you and to not have you worry about anything. 

I've never felt like this before

I apologize if I'm movin' too far

Can we just talk? Can we just talk?

Figure out where we're goin'...

As the train rolled into the station that was a fifteen minute walk from Park Tower, Jeno put away his headphones and took a deep breath.

The “Jeno Tingle” as his Aunt Sunny called it—Jeno hated the term—had taken him a few years to gain control of. And while he could never truly turn it off, he could at least tune it out enough to be more at ease. The only time he did so was at school or when he was studying, just because he wanted to feel normal, and because being aware of everything going on around him really messed with his concentration. 

Jaemin didn’t understand. “If I was able to tell whenever Seonghwa was behind me because he wanted to scare me into doing his chemistry homework, I’d never turn that shit off,” He’d said once. But truthfully, Jeno didn’t really care. Because while yes, he was still slightly scared of the “hateful eight”, he knew damn well that if things got to be too much, he could kick their asses if he wanted to. 

It was his friends he worried about. He couldn’t be around them 24/7. You, not so much. He knew you knew how to fight. Even worse, he knew that San had the hots for you so you were off limits to the rest of them, be it bullying or flirting. But for everyone else… Well. He couldn’t hover over them like some guardian angel. 

Now that the “Jeno Tingle” was on, it allowed him to sense everyone within a certain range around him. He could zero in on certain sounds with ease, and his reflexes became heightened. Halfway on his walk up Park Avenue, he jumped away from a chihuahua on its leash a second before it started barking at him.

When he entered the first floor lobby of the Park Building, he scoured the crowd of employees and visitors until he landed on one familiar face. 

He'd met Doyoung about a year after his dad started dating your mom. Things between your parents were starting to get serious, and Doyoung was four years older than you were. When they moved into your house, Doyoung as your new stepbrother became the de facto chaperone and babysitter. If you wanted to go to the mall with Jeno, he had to take you. Every time you dragged Jeno to the movies, Doyoung had to go also. 

To an extent, it wasn't that bad. Doyoung was cool, and he was smart—he was the one who got Jeno interested in computers and chemistry. He graduated high school at 16, and finished his bachelor's degree at 19. He'd also interned at Park Industries, and secured a job there almost immediately after college. 

To an extent, he was the whole reason Mr. Park knew who he was, because of one incident. It was relatively soon after he started the whole vigilante thing. Jeno, still figuring out how to maneuver on the webs that shot out of his wrists, had accidentally crashed into your backyard late at night, when only Doyoung was awake. He was standing in the back door while he was waiting for his dog to finish peeing. 

Initially, the older boy had freaked out, thinking that it was a burglar or something. When he yelled out that his dad was a cop and was asleep in the house, Jeno panicked, and pulled off his mask, holding up his hands.

“Woah, woahwoahwoah! Doyoung! It’s me, it’s me!” 

Doyoung’s eyes had widened to the size of saucers, paying no mind to the dog as it sauntered up to Jeno, before turning onto its back in a request for belly rubs.

"You're the spider guy everyone's been talking about!?"

"Spider man," Jeno had answered, voice cracking as he dusted himself off. He cringed at the sound of his voice. "...and yes."

Of course, his cover was blown, and he'd begged Doyoung not to tell anyone, especially not you. And while Doyoung had promised not to tell you, it didn't stop him from telling his boss. 

That had been almost three years ago now. The rest was history, and after that Jeno didn’t have to run around in bright red sweatpants and dollar store swimming goggles. Now, he had a nanotech suit that allowed him to activate protocols of the suit through voice commands using something top-secret Mr. Park called D.R.E.A.M technology. Direct Response Engaged As Machine—yeah, Jeno didn’t get it either. 

Doyoung offered Jeno a smile as he escorted Jeno past security, showing them his employee clearance pass. "Hey. How have you been?"

Jeno shrugged, recounting his day in minor detail as he was led into an elevator labeled authorized personnel only. 

This elevator only went up to the 35th floor, seeing as everything past that was only cleared for a certain list of people approved by Mr. Park and his security team, and everything past the 90th floor were Mr. Park's private living quarters. 

Now, as Doyoung led him to another elevator to head up to the 85th floor, which was always where Jeno got to meet with Mr. Park—which wasn't often, maybe once or twice a year—he wondered where he would be if he hadn’t surprised Doyoung that night. He would probably still be using those ugly red sweatpants as part of his disguise.

"How's Y/N?" Doyoung asked. 

"Oh, she seems okay. That guy who hates me keeps coming onto her though. He's a huge douchebag."

Doyoung frowned. "He's not harassing her, is he? Because if he is—"

"He just won't stop flirting, even though she clearly isn't interested," Jeno said bitterly, "He isn't physical or anything. Trust me, it wouldn't end well for him if he was."

Doyoung wasn't quite sure how to respond to the younger boy's dark tone. He looked down, clearing his throat awkwardly.

“So… how’s the apartment?” Jeno asked. Doyoung perked up instantly.

“Oh, now that Taeyong’s moved in and did his interior design thing, it looks great. He’s really done a great job at it.”

“When am I gonna meet this guy? He sounds cool.”

“He’s really cool,” Doyoung hummed, cheeks heating up. “Things are getting really serious.”

Jeno smiled at how flustered Doyoung, who was normally so level headed and calm, became at the mention of his boyfriend.

“You guys sound like a really good couple,” He said. Doyoung chuckled, waving his hand. “Oh, well—” 

 The elevator dinged, and Doyoung sighed. “I’ll tell you later. C’mon.”

The hallway it opened up to was lined with pictures of the company's history, starting from pictures of black and white of people in vintage clothing, to pictures in sepia tones to finally pictures of the current CEO at locations around the world: Chanyeol Park.

Jeno walked behind Doyoung as he led him down the hallway, before stopping in front of a door, and a friendly looking man in a suit. 

Junmyeon was a part of Chanyeol’s Security and Intelligence team, and often sat in on these meetings with Jeno. The chain of contact also included him. If Jeno couldn’t contact Doyoung (which rarely happened), he’d contact Junmyeon. And if he couldn’t contact either of them, or it was an emergency, only then could he contact Chanyeol. So far, that had only happened once.

"Hey, Junmyeon," Doyoung said, "Mr. Park's 4:30 is here." 

Junmyeon nodded, before smiling at Jeno and giving him a wave. "Hey, kid."

Jeno offered an awkward grin. "Hi, Mr. Kim."

Junmyeon rolled his eyes sarcastically. "Kid, you're making me feel ancient. I've told you a million times, just call me Junmyeon."

Jeno shuffled awkwardly, before nodding at the older man, watching as he pressed a button on his earpiece. "Hey, Yeol. Jeno's here."

The muffled response was barely heard, but Jeno automatically understood what Mr. Park said. Junmyeon turned to open the door, and let the pair inside. The “office”—if it could even be called that—opened up to more of a lounge, than anything. A wall of glass overlooked the Manhattan skyline, but Jeno knew that from the outside it looked only like a wall, due to camouflage technology developed by Mr. Park himself. As Doyoung and Junmyeon stayed back, closer to the door, Jeno took a few steps toward the man in question.

Chanyeol was standing a few feet in front of the glass window, working on a holographic model of a new piece of tech. His face was turned downward in a concentrated frown. He barely spared the teenager a glance as he said fondly, “Hey, kid.”

Jeno was used to this. Chanyeol wasn’t cold per se, but he wasn’t warm at all. He knew that Chanyeol cared about him, even if he didn’t really show it in a conventional way. Chanyeol was a very… eccentric man, so he had his own way of saying and doing things. 

“Hi, Mr. Park. Um… you wanted to talk to me?”

“Yep! Needed some help from the friendly neighborhood Spiderman… A little birdie told me about something going on in Queens.”

“Queens?” Jeno asked, gripping the straps of his backpack. “You mean, other than the usual stuff?”

“Other than the usual stuff,” Chanyeol repeated, nodding. With a wave of his hand, the hologram disappeared, and another one appeared in its place. This time, instead of a 3D model, a few pictures and another, smaller 3D model appeared. Chanyeol turned to face him, frown deepening. He pointed at the model—a long, shiny oval-shaped purple stone. It reminded Jeno of an amethyst, but instead of turning white at the base, it turned to an iridescent jade tone. “You know what this is, right?”

Jeno nodded, remembering seeing the rocks all over the news when he was a kid. “That’s… that’s a Chitauri stone. From the invasion a few years back.”

Chanyeol nodded, standing up straight. “These stones have the potential to power weapons with no need to recharge, or change them out. They’re an infinite, extremely strong power source, Jeno, and in the wrong hands can be very dangerous.”

Jeno took a deep breath, feeling his stomach sink slowly. Chanyeol sighed. “Cleanup of the city after the invasion was long, and difficult, and obviously the government and the company weren’t able to get everything. It caused a black market to pop up. Now, the NYPD has been investigating it for years, but they have their limits… that’s where you come in.”

“M-me, Mr. Park?”

Chanyeol gave him a crooked, reassuring smile. He pointed at one of the pictures, which was of a man who most likely didn’t know he was photographed. He was walking somewhere, face looking angry and stern.

“You don’t know who this is, right?”

Jeno shook his head, and Chanyeol turned his head to nod at Junmyeon. “You’re up, tough guy.”

Junmyeon huffed, before walking up to Jeno. He put his hand on Jeno’s shoulder as if he could tell that he was growing anxious. 

“Jeno, that’s Henry Duke. From what we understand on the intel team, he’s one of the cornerstones of the alien tech black market. He’s one of the top dogs. From what we understand, he likes to be present for all major negotiations that his group makes. A source of ours told us that there’s going to be a negotiation on Friday night not too far away from LaGuardia. We want you to go out there and just get a feel of what’s going on.”

“Just watch them, right?” Jeno looked at Junmyeon, who patted his back reassuringly. “Just watch. Don’t engage unless you absolutely have to.”

“You can do that, right?” Chanyeol said quietly, crossing his arms. “Because if not, then it’s totally—”

“Yeah, of course I can! Friday—shit, Friday. At what time are they supposed to be meeting up?”

Junmyeon furrowed his eyebrows, before answering, “Around eight or nine.”

Jeno bit his lip, thinking about the promise he’d made to you. It would just have to wait, he supposed. Chanyeol rarely asked anything this big of him.

“Alright,” Jeno agreed, “I’ll do it.”

Chanyeol grinned, clapping his hands together. 

“Perfect.” 

They discussed logistics briefly after. Doyoung would be on call with Jeno, his custom made suit allowing them to communicate, letting Doyoung see everything Jeno was seeing via a video feed coming from the ultra thin lenses placed in the white eye sockets of the mask. Doyoung would then report to Junmyeon, who would report to Chanyeol, who would probably report to the FBI. Jeno was only to engage if absolutely necessary.

After that, he set out on patrol. He usually found some discreet place to hide his backpack, and then went all over Queens looking for trouble, quite literally. Around five thirty, he stopped a robbery in Murray Hill. Then, around seven, he stopped a man from stealing a woman’s purse in Elmhurst. Nothing too much.

Around eight, he finally headed home, this time dressed normally, using the train and not web fluid. He walked home, tired, knowing that he’d immediately have to do that cursed AP calc homework. When he got home, he opened his backpack pocket to look for his keys, rummaging between his notebooks and other things. 

Shuffling through his stuff, he furrowed his eyebrows as he couldn’t find them. Thinking back, he remembered this morning, when he’d left in a rush… and had very obviously left his keys on his desk.

“Shit,” He muttered to himself. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, remembering that Aunt Sunny had said she’d be working overtime tonight. He could very easily sneak in through his window, but he was pretty sure he’d locked it the night before, and it was too early. People’s lights were still on—anyone could see him if they just looked up, and then he would be screwed. 

Huffing and zipping his backpack up, he marched up to your house, before ringing the doorbell. He shifted his weight back and forth, from his heels to the balls of his feet, until the door opened up. A familiar man with a face just like Doyoung's, but older, with graying hair and arms scarred and muscled from years of working on the police force stood in the doorway.

“Jeno?” Your dad offered him a warm smile. “Hey, kiddo, what’s up?”

“Hi, Mr. Kim,” Jeno said, smiling back. He shifted nervously. “I, um… I left my keys in my room this morning, and my aunt’s working late, so… could I… maybe wait here? Y/N’s home, right?” 

The man nodded. “Of course, of course. Come in!” 

Your dad had always been super friendly, even from the day Jeno had first met him. You'd told Jeno once that he was the only real father figure you'd ever had. Once everything settled after him and your mom got married, you started calling him dad altogether. And since you and Jeno were practically glued at the hip, he got along with your dad almost as well as you did.

“Okay.” Jeno stepped in and set down his backpack at the base of the coat rack next to the door, as he’d done a million times before. Jeno stepped into the living room, and sat down on the couch. He folded his hands in his lap and looked up at your dad.

"I think Y/N's in the shower, but she should be done soon. You can just wait here if you want… have you eaten anything yet?”

“Uh, I had a granola bar on the train, but that’s it.”

“We have some leftover pasta here, if you want—”

“Thanks, Mr. Kim, really! I’m fine.”

Your dad nodded, sitting down on his recliner. “So, have you started your college list, yet? Y/N said you wanted to stay here in New York.”

Jeno nodded, pushing some hair out of his face. “Well, yeah. It would make things a lot easier, I think. I might want to apply to NYU, but I think I’ll just go to community college, or something.”

Your dad shook his head. “You’re a pretty smart kid, Jeno. I think you could get into Columbia if you set out to. Plus, Chanyeol Park doesn’t give out internships to anybody. That’s your secret weapon.”

Jeno smiled. “Well, you’ve got a point.” 

Your dad gave him a friendly punch on the shoulder. “Come on, trying won’t hurt!” Your dad made a face, and then rubbed his knuckles. “Have you been working out? Those muscles weren’t there the last time I did that.”

Jeno laughed, trying to think of an excuse. “Oh, a little bit? The house needed some fixing up over the summer, and I wanted to help Aunt Sunny, so…”

“Jeno?” 

He turned immediately, eyes landing on you at the base of the staircase. You’d changed into an old t-shirt and pajama pants. Your hair was slightly damp. “What are you doing here?” You asked, with a curious smile.

His shoulders slumped, and he grinned sheepishly. “Terrible Tuesday strikes again. I forgot my keys.”

You grimaced. “Brutal, dude. You wanna come up?” Your eyes moved to your dad. “Or am I interrupting guy time?”

“Oh, definitely,” Jeno answered, playing along. He took a cocky tone as he rested his hands on the back of his neck. “Your dad was just telling me about how much the NYPD needs me.” 

You stifled a laugh. You dad seemed to be holding back a laugh too. "Hey, you're joking, but if you keep working out like that, and if by some impossible chance, the college thing doesn't work out… We might just be able to catch Spiderman if we finally got some brain cells on the force."

"Ugh, dad," You groaned, unaware of Jeno's gut twisting, "Not again."

"Yeah, Mr. Kim," Jeno said, scratching the back of his head, "He's not that bad."

Your dad shook his head. "Look, I don't hate the guy. In all honesty, crime rates have dropped since he started doing his thing. But he thinks he's above the law, and his methods can be a bit… unorthodox sometimes. He’s been undermining us for years and his tech is state of the art. Makes me wonder about what we should do to modernize the force."

Jeno looked downward, wondering what would happen if your dad knew the truth.

"Well, I guess we may just never find out. Jeno'd make a horrible cop. He couldn't hurt a fly if you paid him a million dollars."

But you came to the rescue as you grabbed his backpack, and soon enough he was up the stairs with you, heading into your bedroom, laughing to yourselves when you heard your dad jokingly call out, "Fifteen inch distance, you two! Door stays open!"

He sat on your desk chair while you lay on your bed, limbs splaying out. 

"So you left your keys."

Jeno groaned. "Don't remind me. I was in such a rush to leave, that I… I forgot. I'm so stupid."

You rolled your eyes, rolling over onto your stomach to look at him. "You're not stupid, Jen. You made an honest mistake because you were in a hurry." 

Standing up, you walked over to him and leaned against the desk. "Seriously, Jeno. What's gotten into you, lately? You freak out about every little thing. It's starting to worry me." 

Jeno shook his head. "I don't know," He admitted. "I think I'm just scared about how after this year, everything changes. Renjun’s headed upstate. Jaemin’s going to Boston. You want to go to LA. I think Hyuck and I are the only ones who want to stay here. I just… I don't want things to change." 

Your expression turned sad as he continued. "Everyone is expecting great things from me. You're smart, Jeno. You can get into an Ivy. Or, you have a Park internship, you'll be fine. What if I don't want things to be fine? What if I want them to just stay the same?"

You stayed silent for a few moments, trying to think of what to say. Jeno was relatively level headed for someone your age, but even he had moments of doubt and panic. It made moments like these difficult.  You sighed before grabbing him by the hand. Wordlessly, you tugged him over to the bed, sitting him down and leaning your head on his shoulder. He could feel the dampness in your hair seeping slowly into his shirt.

"I guess I understand what you mean," You mumbled, trying to reason with him, "But come on. You wouldn't really want everything to stay the same. You can't tell me you want to keep getting AP calc homework. And I definitely doubt that you'd want to have your ass kicked by San for the rest of your life."

Jeno looked at the floor. "You're right. But you know that's not what I mean—"

"I know," You huffed, "I'm just saying. Change… it's inevitable. The longer you fight it, the harder it is."

Jeno nodded. "This sucks."

"It does," You agreed, taking his hand in yours. "But at least we have each other's backs, y'know?"

Something of a smile appeared on his face. You were so close to him, leaning on him, stroking his knuckles with your thumb. He hoped you couldn't hear his heart pounding in his chest. 

"We really do, huh?" His voice turned quiet, with a bit of a sleepy lull to it. He allowed his head to rest on yours. "You're so comfortable. Can I like, use you as a pillow for the rest of my life?"

You giggled. "I'll consider it on two conditions."

"Oh, you'll consider. How generous of you."

"Yes, I'll consider. Now, do you wanna hear my terms or not?" 

Jeno raised an eyebrow. "Go ahead," He said, before putting on his best Marlon Brando voice, "Make me an offer I can't refuse."

Snorting, you lifted your head off of his. "Okay. One, you finish your calculus homework here before Sunny gets home."

He pursed his lips. "Okay, I could probably do that. What's the other one?"

"Let me drive you to school for the rest of the year." 

Jeno stared at you, and you nodded, eyes wide. "Trust me, Jen. You wouldn't need to wake up so early! And plus, you can't text the guy manning the subway asking him to give you five minutes because you need to find your keys."

Jeno gnawed on the inside of his cheek. You did have a point, and to be honest, he could probably refrain from putting his feet up on your dashboard.

"Deal." 

You grinned. "Awesome," You answered, before nodding towards his backpack. "Now get to work, Einstein."

The rest of the week wasn't that bad. Yes, you were absolutely batshit insane about your truck in the morning, but he soon realized he didn't really mind. Not when it allowed you both to spend some twenty extra minutes together in the mornings, and they were spent joking around and listening to your extremely varied playlist. 

On the other hand, he was saddled with more and more homework, greater and greater expectations. The looming threat of Friday's mission rolled around, and it made Jeno feel like time was passing much too slowly but also way too quickly. There was so much on his mind. He had chemistry with you on Thursdays in the afternoon, which also meant that San was there. Which also meant that sometimes, his heightened senses would pick up on San dropping a tacky pick up line which made Jeno want to punch him in the jaw.

Finally, finally, Friday afternoon rolled around. As he bid you goodbye and promised to see you later, he tried to ignore the feeling in his stomach. The feeling that something was about to go very, very wrong. He went out on patrol, ready for Doyoung to set up the call and tell him where he needed to go. It didn’t help that there wasn’t a lot for him to do that day. Crime had seemed to slow down altogether. 

When the time finally came, and the sun was beginning to set, Doyoung rang in at about 7, telling him the location. An old warehouse near LaGuardia airport, hidden from prying eyes. Jeno made his way to the place, avoiding security cameras Doyoung warned him about, and found a place to hide. There was a hole in the warehouse roof, which allowed him to peer right into the building without being seen. It was about thirty feet from the ground.

“Why is it always old, abandoned warehouses?” Jeno grumbled. He heard Doyoung laugh quietly. 

“Beats me,” Doyoung sighed. 

And so they waited. Jeno wondered vaguely if you were still working. He wasn’t sure. They made time talking quietly, until a black SUV rolled into the warehouse. “Woah, Doyoung,” He murmured, “Hold up.”

Jeno leaned forward, but quickly realized he probably wouldn’t be able to hear what was being said. “D.R.E.A.M, activate Heightened Intelligence Protocol.”

Activating Heightened Intelligence Protocol.

The protocol allowed Jeno to use the lenses over his eyes to zoom in on specific targets, as well as use a microphone embedded in the suit to pick up audio from far away and feed it directly into his ears.

He watched as three figures got out of the car, a fourth remaining in the driver’s seat. The trio stood in front of the car, and Jeno recognized the man in the middle as the man Junmyeon had been talking about.

“Alright, there’s Henry Duke,” He said, “The one in the middle.”

 “Got it,” Doyoung replied, sounding satisfied. “Now all we have to do is wait for the other party.”

“Did Junmyeon’s sources say anything about who it would be?”

“No. They weren’t able to find that out. Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

Jeno’s eyes never left the man. “Do you think it’s something international?”

Doyoung sighed. “I’m not sure. If it is international, then you need to be even more careful.”

“Got it. I think—Wait, here they come.” 

A second vehicle, this one another black SUV, rolled up not too far away from the first car. The lights turned off and the engine sputtered to a stop, and four men stepped out of the vehicle.

Jeno’s stomach dropped, and of its own accord, his mouth let loose a quiet, “What the fuck,” as he registered the person leading them. 

“What?” Doyoung asked, before realizing what—who—he was looking at. “...Is that my dad?”

“I think it is,” Jeno whispered, fingertips suddenly numb. Who was he kidding? They both knew who it was. 

“So,” One of the men next to your dad said, “You show us yours, we’ll show you ours?”

Henry Duke clapped his hands together with an impish grin. “I suppose. Reagan, get the case.”

One of the two men standing beside him started off toward the trunk of the car. “It caught me off guard when I heard that the force wanted to purchase these. Almost made me wonder if this was your attempt at a sting operation.”

“What made you change your mind?” Your dad asked. Jeno swallowed at how cold he sounded. This wasn’t your dad, and it didn’t seem like Officer Kim either. This was someone Jeno had never met before. 

“Honestly, Kim?” Duke raised an eyebrow, shrugging. “It was you. Your cooperativeness and willing to feed us information, as well as your… insurance agreement. And besides, you made a very interesting point when you said that the Avengers Initiative and Park’s alum Spiderman is ruining the way the law operates around here. That type of bitterness… hard to fake.”

Your dad huffed. “We’re fucking tired of it.”

The man leaning against the car your dad had stepped out of scoffed. “If this helps us catch the little asshole, then so be it.”

Jeno frowned. “I’m not little—”

“Jeno, shut up!” Doyoung snapped. 

“—Alright, then.” The man holding the briefcase—Reagan—clicked it open, as if it were a prize reveal on The Price is Right. Five guns, all modified to hold glowing Chitauri stones were placed carefully together side by side.

“You know the basics. No radiation. Keep it away from security scanners and x-rays. They will blow up. And second of all, these are at half the price, along with the promise from the chief of police that my business won’t be touched, and will only be distributed to officers in on the operation and have agreed to turn off their body cameras when they decide to use these weapons. Should this not be a sting operation, we’ll be back here to negotiate.”

Jeno leaned forward, watching anxiously.

“Yes, sir,” Your dad answered, nodding. “We have the money here.”

“Hand it over, then.”

That was when Jeno made his mistake. He leaned forward too much, and proceeded to fall right through the hole, bringing down some scraps of the roof with him. As he tumbled through the air, the zoom on his lenses caused him to grow dizzy as he had no idea what he was looking at. He caught himself before he could fall, clumsily commanding D.R.E.A.M to go back to turn off the current protocol. His vision returned to normal, and he swung up onto a rafter holding the warehouse up.

“So, we have company.” Duke didn’t sound as amused as he had before. His face turned into a sneer. “Get him.”

In less than a second, before Jeno could say anything, five guns were pointed directly at him. He managed to swing away before any bullets could hit him. 

“Jeno, get out of there now,” Doyoung ordered. 

“What about the guns?” Jeno asked, swinging to another rafter. “They know I’m here, I might as well get them before I go—”

“No! Jeno, listen to what I’m telling you. You’ve done more than enough, and you need to let it g—”

Your dad aimed, and a bullet fired right at Jeno’s chest. For a second, he forgot that the chest area of the suit was lined with bulletproof material. While it didn’t shoot into his chest, it ricocheted right off him, and since he was in motion, it somehow caused the bullet to bounce back in the direction in which it came. 

The wind was knocked out of Jeno, but it was nothing compared to watching the bullet land in the middle of your father’s chest. On the other line, he heard Doyoung yell, followed by the sound of something falling. And then, as he made his way back towards the hole he’d fallen out of, he couldn’t rip his eyes away from the body as it crumpled to the ground. 

The others around him scrambled to get back into their respective cars. Jeno was back on the roof now, trying not to hyperventilate. “I’m sorry,” He gasped, “Do—Doyoung, I-I’m sorry, I didn’t want to—”

“Jeno, you need to get out of there, now,” Doyoung said, voice raspy. “GO!” 

So he did, and Doyoung cut off the call once he was out of the vicinity. Jeno didn’t blame him. He swung across buildings, feeling numb as he looked for the apartment complex roof where he’d decided to hide his backpack.

When he finally did, he changed in a hurry, before slumping against the wall and forcing himself to take deep breaths. 

Doyoung’s dad—your dad—was dead. And it was all his fault. 

He cried on the way down the staircase. He cried on his way to the subway. The entire time, he ignored people’s stares. Suddenly everything was too loud, and if he met someone in the eyes he’d just about break down in the middle of the station. 

As he got onto the train, Jeno thought about all of the things your dad had done for you, and for Jeno. All the times he'd taken you both to Coney Island in the summer when you were younger. The year Pokemon Go came out he took the both of you driving around in his car so you and Jeno could catch as many Pokemon as you could. 

He’d formally adopted you when you were thirteen. You were his daughter in nearly every sense of the word, regardless of blood. And now he was dead, because of a stupid mistake that Jeno had made.

What would you say if you knew? He didn’t want to know. Checking the time on his phone, he saw he’d gotten a message from you just three minutes ago.

[8:36 PM]

y/n: lemme know when ur outside!! :)

“Fuck,” He murmured, wiping his eyes. He knew he needed to stop crying before he got to your house, and he had about ten minutes before he got to his stop, and then another five minute walk to the neighborhood. He focused on taking deep breaths and taking long swigs from his water bottle in the meantime, trying to tune out the sound of other people talking and the sound of the train on the rails.

The walk was the longest five minute walk he’d ever taken. The flashing lights of convenience stores did nothing to calm him down. As the stores in his peripheral vision began transitioning into suburban homes, he felt his heart speed up again. The constant movement as he walked meant he missed his phone vibrating in his backpack as you rang his number.

After what seemed like an eternity, two familiar houses came into his line of vision, and his shoulders slumped as he spotted you on your porch, looking small and teary, curled up into a little ball. In one hand, you were clutching your phone.

His stomach twisted as he put on a confused tone, even though he knew damn well that you knew. “...Y/N?”

You stood up, running to him and burying yourself into his chest, crumpling into his arms. You would have fell over if Jeno hadn’t held both of you up. 

“Jeno,” You sobbed, “You’re n-not go-onna believe it.”

He brought a hand up to caress your hair, holding back tears of his own as he asked a question he already knew the answer to.

“Y/N, what happened?”

taglist: @decembermoonskz @itsapapisongo @lenaluvs​ @crescentjen​

[mementomori-demimonde]

Old Wounds

Hidden Scars: I - II - III - IV - V - VI - VII - VIII - IX - X - XI.1 / XI.2 XII - XIII - XIV - XV - XVI - XVII - XVIII - XIX - XX

Bonus Chapter (21):

Three years ago, you broke up with Miranda.

Or, to better say, three years ago, Miranda broke up with you.

After escaping Victor’s grasp and embarking on the flight headed to England, Miranda thought it was best for the two of you to be constantly moving around.

She easily procured fake IDs and documents and, as Mrs. & Mrs. O’Brien (so lame that you loved it), you checked in the most expensive hotels and made a mess of the room, only to be off the next day. Every bill was paid and the staff generously tipped, even though the money didn’t certainly come from your pockets as you didn’t have any: you found out it was fairly easy to transfer money around and trick the systems; at least all those hacking software lessons had proven useful, though you weren’t up to anything illegal - it was a matter of survivance, that was what you told yourself. 

Life was wild and exciting, every morning you were someone slightly different while remaining the same, every night you got lost in the scent of her, only to be woken up by her fingers exploring your body.

Miranda was never satiated. And while it was only a matter of sex, before, there was something addicting, now, that flickered between the two of you.

It was something you thought was unbreakable. Something so rare to be born in such a hostile condition that it would be so hard to kill that nobody would even try to.

You thought.

Miranda lit up the day you reached Glasgow.

You could see her eyes gleaming, you could see her sharp fangs shining at the pale light of the sun as she dragged you around, showing you this and that, telling you about her childhood while turning a child herself, innocent and carefree and happy enough to be pulling you in and kiss you in the middle of the road.

You stayed in Glasgow for five months after that, because she thought you were both safe.

You decided to rent a small apartment next to the theater because, apparently, Miranda loved the theatre and you loved discovering things about her just as much as you loved watching her glow as she watched the show and the people acting or the orchestra playing.

You even convinced her to take yoga classes and, except for a couple of smashed glasses when she thought a waiter was ogling you, and an exploded pillow when her football team lost to the rigors, she seemed to have learned how to manage her anger pretty well.

Even her part-time job as a dog-sitter helped her keep her calmness, even to balance with the frustration she would accumulate during her other job as a consultant; of what, you never worked it out completely, you simply knew it was something to do with finance, probably internationally. Miranda didn’t like to talk about it excessively - the pay was good, she seemed satisfied with it - so you let her be.

As for you, when the first opportunity came out, you accepted it right away: as a receptionist of a luxury hotel, you had a fair amount of working hours, perfectly timed with Miranda, and you were able to bake breakfast for the both of you, pack your lunch boxes and be back before her to prepare dinner when Miranda didn’t surprise you, instead, with some take out and a lit candle.

She uncovered a nice, unexpected side of her, but sometimes she still was the scary old Miranda, even when it wasn’t necessary, to your opinion.

Whenever she acted bad, you served her a banana on a plate instead of a nice dinner you baked, to commemorate the first meal she had you eat. Miranda would pout, eat the banana in silence, and ask for forgiveness between the freshly cleaned sheets. This worked the other way around too, of course, with the exception that she enjoyed herself a little too much, sometimes, prolonging the punishment to something more than just a banana for dinner. Either way, everything was solved in bed. Not that you complained about this method, of course.

You thought you couldn’t be happier; but you thought you could never be any less happy either, and, of course, you were wrong.

It was a casual question you blurted out without much thought.

One night, you were watching a cheesy movie on tv, just for the fun of hearing her complain while she had her legs slung over yours, silently demanding for cuddles she would never admit to be requesting. As the couple on the screen kissed and cried happily, you said “have you ever thought about marriage?”

Miranda froze. You tried to explain that it meant nothing in particular, it was just conversation, but something in her eyes had changed.

She never answered the question.

Days went by and you could tell that something had painfully shifted between the two of you.

You tried to take it back, make her forget with some rough nights, just like she used to like it, but nothing worked.

Miranda wasn’t the same.

And then, one morning she was simply gone, without a single explanation. 

After twelve days of waiting, you made peace with yourself that Miranda wouldn’t be coming back.

You started to hate everything you loved so quickly that even going out in the streets and hearing all those people talking Scottish made you sick, so taking the next decision wasn’t too hard, after all: you told Cecilia to mind the tabby cat Miranda pulled out a stray dog’s jaws and brought home for you to heal, vacated the apartment hotfoot and accepted the job as head manager of the hotel subsidiary in Rome, Italy.

 After a few weeks, you realized the change was exactly what you needed: Rome was amazing, you like the people and, most of all, the food. You even decided to join a gym so you could keep eating the delicious meals the hotel chef cooked for the staff and when the weather was good, you went for a run, early in the morning, enjoying the sight of the city lazily waking up. Late in the night, before going to bed, you would flick your tear-drop-shaped dagger and put it in the top drawer in the nightstand, only to wear it the next day, because now you felt naked without its cold blade pressing against your leg. You dropped the habit of wearing it on your thigh - it wasn’t practical with your work attire - but strapped to your calf or pocketed inside your boot. You hated yourself for it, but it couldn’t be helped. You tried to convince yourself it was just in case you had to defend yourself - it was sensible since you had to walk by yourself most of the time.

All things considered, you fit in well.

Your apartment is good, with a nice view on the Tevere, the pay is almost double the one in Glasgow and you can allow yourself some treats, from time to time, whenever you feel too blue to stay in the apartment by yourself.

You contemplated the idea of getting a pet for a time, but you decided against it since that too would awaken sour thoughts.

You tried to date for a while, but nobody was enough.

Nobody compared to her.

Despite everything Miranda did to you, her memory was latched to your brain like a plague.

It still is.

Sometimes, only some heavy drinking can get her out of your head.

 You weren’t on duty tonight, and while you’re coming back from a peaceful stroll, your colleague calls: there has been a great fuss in the hotel; he tells you about ambulances and police cars hurrying with the sirens blaring to arrest some psycho that attacked a woman in her room. A guy was shot, but you don’t register much about the events, nor do you ask for further information, eager to drop the argument and avoid some unpleasant memories rising in your mind. Guns, people attacking other people, blood… It’s all in the past.

Hurrying up the stairs and fishing in your purse for the keys, you barely notice that the door lock is slightly scratched.

You don’t pay attention to it, nor the way your key slides inside the hole, until you step inside your home, pawing at the switch, and the light doesn’t work.

Immediately, all your senses turn on, your eyes struggle to adjust to the darkness, your ears eager to capture the smallest sound.

It’s the hair on the back of your neck that puts you in alarm. Rising for an imperceptible breath of wind, they notify of the imminent danger.

The next thing you feel is a strong arm wrapped around your throat, and a warm body pressed against your back.

The attacker clearly knows what they’re doing, but you do too.

Everything she taught you is stuck in your brain, branded on your bones.

In a flash, you lift your dominant leg just enough to grab the knife.

You plunge it into your attacker’s thigh without hesitation.

She - it’s a she - grunts in anger.

The hold of her elbow softens, her arm slides from your neck, her body moves abruptly from yours as she limps away, leaving you alone and scared, but in complete control of yourself.

“My, my. I am getting sloppy.” The voice sends chills down your spine. It’s warm, it’s smug, almost amused, and familiar. Terribly familiar.

Your heart, despite yourself, throbs painfully.

You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes from your lips.

“Good.” She says, “very good, m’eudail.”

Whatever doubt you might’ve had, now it’s completely gone. It’s not your mind playing tricks, associating a familiar event with a lost person, this is happening for real. Running away from England to another country, taking a new name, a new identity, rebuilding your life almost from zero has served you nothing: she still has found you.

“Miranda?”

Three years.

Three years you haven’t heard from this woman.

Three years you’ve tried to push it out of your head.

Three years of pretending it was just a nightmare.

Three years and she’s back as if it’s nothing, standing in your apartment like she owns the place. She does, in a way. Miranda still owns you, in the first place, whether you like it or not: it’s not your choice to make. Until Miranda decides to let you go, you’re hers. It’s inevitable. And you know, you feel it in your guts, that Miranda will never let you go.

Some exchange rings, some jump over an old broom; your ‘until death do us part’ was a carving in the shape of an M - not on wood or marble, but on flesh - and you wonder how could she be so scared of marriage in the first place if she, too, has made a promise for life.

She comes into the light pouring in from the windows: it’s sunset, and the streetlight has just been lightened up.

Like it’s no big deal, you watch her bend down and wrap her fingers around the handle of the knife and, with a quick motion, she pulls it out from her wounded flesh with minimum bleeding.

With a wince, you notice that her trousers are already stained with dried blood, mixing with the fresh one.

She straightens her back and bares her teeth into a crooked smile, her split lip glistening with droplets of crimson. It looks painful. She doesn’t seem to mind one bit. Her cheekbone is blooming with blue and purple, her throat bears a sore line around. Miranda wears her bruises as if it was makeup, proud and confident. And, oh, so beautiful like the night before she left.

You can’t help but feel concerned, which only adds to your frustration: you shouldn’t care about her, you shouldn’t feel so strongly about the blood running down her chin - she probably deserves it, and more - but you do care.

You watch her, powerless, as she stumbles toward the couch and lets herself fall unceremoniously on top of it, grunting as her bruised body slackens against the soft pillows. Her shirt is stained as well, her knuckles scraped.

“You’re beaten up.” You dumbly point out.

She lets out a dark chuckle and lolls her head back. Your eyes are drawn to the rhythmic movements of her throat as she swallows. You can almost taste the iron inside your own mouth - how many times she’s kissed you after a training session, how many times your sweat mingled with hers when you wondered if you were fighting or fucking.

It all felt so long ago and, still, it hurt like it was yesterday.

“Tried my best, but you can’t expect the featherweight to win against the heavyweight without a significantly favorable weapon. He was just a bigger psycho than me: came out on top, in the end.” Miranda murmurs, a smug expression deforming her features. “Victor, on the other hand-”

The name has your head spinning. His ugly mouse-face comes to visit on the blurry surface of your mirror every time you shower, the rough lines crossing your back are a distant yet a painful reminder of those days of imprisonment, confined in that small room with Miranda, uncovering her past, her job, her boss and his despicable ways. Those marks hurt, but not as much as it hurts the one on your left shoulder - not until now.

“You’ve gone back to work for him?”

After all you’ve been through, after all the pain he inflicted, after she promised to have him killed because he took it out on you, Miranda decided to still work with him. Betrayal didn’t even compare to what you felt.

How many things can change in three years? You lived a lifetime in two months, since Miranda kidnapped you. Three years, right now, are an eternity.

Miranda’s smile drops. Her blue eyes wander aimlessly around the room, stopping in a dark corner. They aren’t focused, but it’s easy for you to see the regret blaring in her lost gaze.

“It was what I am,” Miranda murmurs, her voice emotionless, “it was the only thing I knew.”

There’s a pregnant silence between the two of you. It feels like forever before you move your first step toward the couch, your gaze fixed on her as if you were trying to control a snake about to snap its vicious attack.

You know Miranda won’t move, not to attack you anyway, but you’re cautious when you speak.

“You’re talking in the past tense.”

“He’s dead now.” Miranda breathes out heavily. Her voice almost overlaps yours, as if she’s completely zoned out, not listening at all, unaware of her surroundings, as impossible as it seems. “I killed him, gave him what he deserved.”

The sheepish look she gives you is the sparkle that lits your flame. It doesn’t matter if Victor is dead now, the memories still haunt your dreams, and Miranda has gone back to work for him.

You feel cheated on, betrayed, and you still don’t know what she wants from you. Frustration builds up from within until you feel like exploding.

You would smack her and shake her by her shoulders if she wasn’t so bruised - and if she’d let you, of course, before succumbing to her strong arms and be stopped by force.

“Miranda, why are you here?” You would ask her to leave, tell her you can’t stand her sight… if only that was true. Angered beyond words by her persistent silence, you walk to her with heavy steps, until you’re in front of her, for the first time, towering her small figure on the couch. She looks frail, harmless, submissive, but you know she’s not any of those things. “Miranda-”

“Shut up.”

You don’t know how she’s managed that - if she’s pulled you down by the collar of your shirt, or hooked her fingers in your belt, or even hit the back of your knees with her foot - but you’re falling right onto her, like the controlled destruction of a building, collapsing right where the demolition expert planned. You try to catch yourself with one hand on either side of her head, fingers clawing the soft pad of the back cushion, even if it’s not necessary: of course, Miranda has caught you first.

Although ‘catch’ is not entirely correct. Her greedy fingers are grabbing your head, pulling more than supporting, and before you can realize what’s happening, her lips are on your mouth.

Oh, God, how much you missed her.

It’s not a nostalgic kiss, she’s not asking for forgiveness or awakening long-lost memories. Her lips are urgent, almost aggressive.

It’s like those three years never went by, as if a lot of things never happened: this one isn’t Miranda, but the mysterious woman who kidnapped you in the alley; she’s back to that unhinged creature that tortured you in the most pleasant ways, who turned a cage into paradoxical heaven where wrong was right and the pain was pleasure.

Too easily you fall back into the addicting spiral that bound you to her. You’re completely at her mercy, once again, with no power nor will to pull yourself out of it. Despite everything, you want more of her kisses, you want more of her touches, you want more of her, no matter if she’s rough or brutal - something of Miranda is still better than nothing.

Hungry hands travel fast from your face to your neck and, for a moment, you prepare to hold your breath thinking she will wrap her fingers around your throat to have you squirm in her lap, desperate for air, just to assert her total control, but you’re wrong. Miranda doesn’t stop: she paws possessively at your breasts, teasing your nipples through the coarse fabric - you hate a little how your body seems to react regardless of your mind, answering to her touch in all the right ways.

You always take minutes to remove your uniform, Miranda hasn’t taken more than one to leave you in your undergarments, confused and wondering if you were actually wearing something before she claimed ownership over you and your body, like always, like she was entitled since the beginning.

Her mouth travels fast, in tow, she nibbles and lavishes, sending electric sparks to your core.

You don’t dare speak, afraid that the spell will break, that you’ll wake up from a dream even though you don’t remember falling asleep, even if it feels real, so real, almost too real that you can’t bring yourself to renounce it.

The tip of her nose tickles the valley of your breasts when she kisses her way down your stomach and belly, her nails scratch dully at the small of your back, pulling your knickers down in one move.

You’ve never noticed how chill your apartment can be. Or maybe you’ve never been so hot before, within these walls.

Her mouth knows exactly where to tease you, her tongue touches all the right places and only in the right ways. Her body remembers everything, and at the same time, it feels new. She tastes you, pursuing the depths of you, almost as if she wants to drown right there and then.

Bare and vulnerable, you don’t even perceive the typical powering position on top of her; Miranda is always on top, also when she’s not.

You can only arch over her as she draws a hurried orgasm out of you, leaving you raw and trembling, your mind spiraling from contentment, nostalgia, and a deep sense of guilt and then back again, when her tongue doesn’t stop until she isn’t satisfied with a second climax, and a third.

It’s easy to lose count when Miranda is having her way. It’s easy to get lost and losing track of time and of yourself, it’s easy to set aside everything to chase her with your hips, desperate for everything and in everything.

She doesn’t allow you to catch your breath when she’s done. You barely catch a glimpse of her when she pulls away, working her jaw to relieve the soreness that has surely set in her muscles, but her eyes are elusive, disappointing you when you hoped to look at her and find the woman you know.

It’s just another confirmation that she is still somewhere else, at least in spirit.

You’ve learned to know her strength, despite her petite size, and yet you can’t prevent the surprised gasp that escapes your mouth when she pushes you off of her and into the couch on your front, so fast that you gape at the pillow below.

You struggle to adjust your head and tilt it to the side when you feel her climb on your thighs, her ripped legs grabbing yours with vicious force when she lowers herself, and despite being fully clothed, you can feel the heat from her core right below your bottom, where she sits.

You swallow in anticipation, shiver when her nails rake at your skin, and then, then everything stops. She pauses.

You feel all the tension leave the room like the fog lifting from the streets.

Her legs are looser when she shifts lower on your thighs, her hands are softer when she glides her fingers up the small of your back and they linger, for a moment too long, across your shoulder blades.

You want to say something, even say her name again, listen to your own voice calling Miranda while still striving to breathe, wearied by the pleasure her skilled tongue has brought you. But as soon as you take a small breath to speak, a startling weight on your back knocks the air out of your lungs.

You take a moment to comprehend that Miranda has leaned on the top of you, her chest rises and falls rhythmically against your back, her breath tickles your left shoulder and you blink at the fact that her cheek is probably resting on her carved initial, and not just by chance.

You mentally count three seconds in, three seconds out. Her warm breath sends shivers down your spine.

“Had to find you.”

It’s a murmur, barely a whisper, so small you even doubt you heard it for real or just in your head.

“What?”

You try to squirm from below, eager to watch her face, read in her eyes if she’s making fun of you in the cruelest of ways or not. Her voice has tricked you on many occasions… or not. Maybe it was her eyes. Maybe it’s better for both of you if you can’t cage into each other’s eyes.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, relax your muscles, stop your hands from scrambling in the purchase of a steady surface to push yourself up and Miranda off of you.

It’s better this way: she won’t talk, otherwise.

“Thought I could do it.” She sighs, her lips move on your skin, leaving a moist halo around her lips. “Thing is… that I could.”

“You’re talking about-”

“Glasgow.” She snaps. You feel her clenching her jaw tight. “When we lived together.”

“You’re scared that you could live normally?”

Silence.

“You don’t understand.” She huffs. “People like me can’t usually walk away whenever they please and forget about their pasts.”

“But you did.” You retort. “We were fine.”

Miranda chuckles. It’s a bittersweet one, and it ends quickly.

 “I was doing fine before you came.” She clarifies. It clarifies nothing, but you don’t dare to interrupt, fearing she’ll just walk away for good. “There’s a reason why so many have failed. No one was able to ruin me while I ruined them. No one was you.”

You can breathe easily now that Miranda has rolled off of you.

You turn to your side quickly, eager to follow her with your eyes and make sure she won’t take the door and never come back after such a declaration. Rare have been the times you’ve heard Miranda talk in such ways and you can only imagine what is the prelude for: something fatally bad, or something impossibly good.

In the forced darkness of your apartment, the blue of her eyes glows at the dim reflection of the streetlights.

Her voice echoes in your head.

When you initiate the kiss you’re surprised she doesn’t pull back. She doesn’t even complain. She doesn’t grab your face or the back of your neck, she doesn’t claim the lead.

It’s startling, and it’s a foreign sensation you’re not used to, at all.

You barely register the soft rustle of fabric as you chase her taste and mingle it with yours.

And then finally you feel her hands on yours, her slender fingers reaching for yours and sliding almost perfectly in between, like pieces of a puzzle.

She swallows your breathy moan.

You haven’t expected your hands to be drawn closer to the warmth of her body. She lets her fingers move to your wrists, she lets them loop around the protruding bone there - she doesn’t squeeze, she doesn’t pull nor push - leaving your pads free to roam over her stomach, through the small crack of her shirt, gliding over the taut skin of her abdomen. You feel new bumps, new scars perhaps.

She squirms when you push a little too hard against her hip bone.

Or, maybe, she doesn’t exactly squirm.

You feel her adjust, raising her pelvis off the couch, but not to ease discomfort.

Your fingertips slip easily beyond the band of her high-waist trousers.

Miranda doesn’t move.

She’s even stopped the kiss, letting you decide.

It’s an open invitation - a request, perhaps - to touch her, properly, like you’ve been asking, for weeks, silently, before you decided to voice your thoughts and your feelings. 

Everything went downhill from there.

Your breath catches, the long-awaited moment feeling so terrifying, now, that you can’t bring yourself to just stop thinking and follow your guts, your innermost desires, to claim what has been denied to you for so long.

Miranda wouldn’t have hesitated. She didn’t hesitate to take when she wanted and could.

Thing is, you’re not her.

You pull away from her in a blink, your fingers tingle with unsatisfied electricity when you hide your face in your hands.

“Miranda.” You growl. Your voice comes out muffled from behind your palms. You’d want to yell at her, berate her, but it only comes out desperate, you sound on the verge of crying. Maybe you are. “What are you doing?”

Her hands are touching your wrists again. She’s gentle. More than she’s ever been. She forces you to unpeel your hands from your face.

In the dim light from the streetlights, her eyes shine again. They seem full of unshed tears, but you don’t want to fool yourself with dull illusions that don’t belong, with every possibility, to either of you.

Miranda doesn’t talk. You know it, you can see it, there’s a whole universe of things she’s dying to say, and still… she doesn’t speak.

You let out a shaky breath, sit lower on her legs, your gazes locked.

“Miranda, what’s your point?” You try again, softer this time.

She opens her mouth to speak then, only to close it soon after with a frustrated sigh.

You can’t endure more of it. You’re too spent to keep playing.

Miranda speaks only when you push yourself off of her, trying to stand up.

“My point is- I’m done.” She huffs out a disbelieving chuckle as if it’s the first time she’s told that, to herself even; the first time she’s truly grasped the idea and made it final. “I’ve got tons of money now and I can leave it all behind.”

“Miranda-”

“We can leave it all behind.” She corrects. One of her hands slithers to the small of your back, pushing you down to keep you near. It’s confident but for the first time, somehow, it’s not possessive. “Start over, for real.”

You swallow a mouthful of sand. Your head is spinning. You even wonder if something has possessed Miranda’s body and has turned her into some normal person who is actually repentant and is willing to start over.

How much can a person change in three years? Does it also apply to Miranda? The rules of mortals apply to such mysterious creatures like her?

You’re about to ask for a moment when you hear a distinct mew.

“What the fuck-” You startle, snapping your head toward the kitchen. It’s hard to see, but there’s definitely something on the counter. A box, maybe a crate. With something furry poking out. “You brought the cat?!”

Miranda’s lips are crooked into a sheepish smile when you look back at her.

“Please?” She whispers. Her voice is velvety against your lips, so close you could answer with a kiss. “What do you say?”

Maybe you will answer with a kiss.

Maybe.

[bamfdaddio]

X-Men Unabridged: Proteus

The X-Men, those beautiful mutants that have sworn to protect a world that hates and fears them, are a cultural juggernaut with a long, tangled history. We’ve been untangling that history for a while, but sometimes, you really want a more in-depth look. Interested? Then read the (un)Abridged X-Men!

(X-Men 125 - 128) - by Chris Claremont and John Byrne

Fun* fact: this particular issue is the oldest comic I physically own.

* for a given value of fun

Something sinister lurks on Muir Isle…

This arc is very much set up like a horror movie. It starts out as a regular X-Men narrative, where Claremont is weaving along several plot threads. We check in with the X-Men in Westchester, we check in with Magneto who has retreated to Asteroid M and we even check in with Xavier in space, who finally learns more about the true scope of the Phoenix and its nature. Finally, we’ve got Jean stationed at Muir Isle, where Moira is investigating the sheer scope of her powers. (She has realized how strong Jean truly is; akin to a god. Her theory is that Jean’s recent power dampening is the result of her human mind trying to cope with her massive power level.) It’s about as everyday as it gets for the X-Men, but, well…

I always thought Jean molecularly restructured her own outfit into the Phoenix-costume whenever she needed to change, but here, she just… wills it away? Also, why did you need an outfit change for this, anyway? Does the costume simply appear whenever she exerts too much of her powers, like an angry forehead vein? So many questions. (X-Men 126)

Other residents at Muir are Polaris, Havok and the Multiple Man, all of them blissfully unaware that something skulks about in the shadows: the remains of an unfortunate captain, whose body has been taken over by something… other.

But someone else is skulking around in the shadows, too. Jean isn’t aware of it, but a familiar stranger is manipulating her from the sidelines.

I’ve been gaslighting a cosmic force, ask me how! (X-Men 126)

1979 marks the first appearance of the Hellfire Club, though we only meet one member for now: Jason Wyngarde. (Maybe all of this could have been avoided if he’d had a Barbie doll to dress up in black lace as a child, but alas.) ‘Jason’ is a pseudonym and though most people these days know that he’s a familiar villain from the X-Men’s past, the reveal of his true identity will follow later.

Meanwhile, Beast finally gets off his ass to check on the Xavier mansion, even though the X-Men must have been tripping intruder alarms for months now. Still, we do get this sweet moment out of it:

Of course she’s going to be surprised at the sheer amount of plot contrivances that were thrown up to keep all y’all apart for a full year. (X-Men 126)

Beast knows that Jean went to Muir, so Scott immediately goes for the phone. Lorna picks up, but during the call she starts screaming, leaning heavily into the horror genre. She fends off the withering remains of the captain, so instead, ‘Mutant X’ jumps into a duplicate of Jamie Madrox and promptly flees to the mainland on a boat.

Guuurl, that body is snatched. (X-Men 126)

The X-Men (sans Beast) hit Muir Isle, where Moira debriefs them. Moira reveals who Mutant X is: his name is Kevin MacTaggart, her son, who has the terrifying power to warp reality. Because his power is so vast, he burns through bodies at an alarming rate. He can only be contained - or killed - by inorganic metal. In an effort to contain him (and, presumably, help him at some point), Moira locked him in a metal cell. He was kept there, alone, for god knows how long, until Magneto accidentally freed him. They know he escaped the island and, because of his parasitic need for fresh host bodies, Moira posits that he’ll be heading for a big city.

Kevin - who dubs himself Proteus - racks up an impressive body count in the country side, killing 7 people in total. (6 people and 1 dupe? Eh.) He’s a terrific villain, because he’s powerful, has a well-defined weakness and, even though it’s not impossible to emphasize with him -- isolation tends to drive people mad -- the way he discards his victims is truly chilling.

The X-Men chase after him, Wolverine picking up the scent. When Proteus tries to claim him, Logan’s adamantium skeleton repels him. In response, he unspools reality.

I’ve had this trip. I think they call this strain Dragon’s Dynamite. (X-Men 126)

Storm intervenes, but Proteus leaves Nightcrawler and especially Wolverine rattled. Logan’s heightened senses root him in reality more than most, and when Proteus uses his powers, everything is just screaming wrong at him. But nobody is safe: little Kevin MacTaggart turns gravity against Ororo, taking her out as well.

He tries to claim Storm, but Moira repels him, sniping at him from afar. Proteus fears (metal) bullets, knowing they can kill him. When Cyclops realizes Moira’s shooting to kill, he intervenes - X-Men don’t kill, after all. Moira knocks him out with her gun, but Kevin escapes in the confusion. Moira finally realizes where her son is headed, while the X-Men regroup.

In Edinburgh, Moira pays Joe MacTaggart a visit - her husband, Kevin’s father.

The MacTaggarts are definitely in the running for the Xavier/Marko-award for Fucked Up Family Dynamics. (X-Men 127)

There’s a calculating coldness to Moira’s character that I’ve never responded well to, but I like how Claremont fills in the blanks here. It’s part unhappiness, part a deep frustration with her inability to help her own son. I wonder how Kevin was a child, before his mutant gene activated: was he a sweet boy, or one with a cruel streak? Did she fear what he might become?

There’s a few gaps in Claremont’s narrative, but Hickman has drawn on this very well, I think: the Moira X in HoXPoX is equally calculating, equally cold. But how can she not be? How often has she raised Kevin? How often has she had to kill him? How many times has she watched these people, these X-Men, die?

Anyway, Moira’s warning is as effective as anger management therapy for Sabretooth, because Kevin comes by Joe’s office a little while later and snuffs out his dad. Phoenix hears Joe screaming telepathically across the moors, allowing the X-Men to pinpoint him. Claremont also makes sure to show that Jean’s power is steadily growing:

Polaris be like: “No, no, I’m carrying my own emotionally stunted Summers boy, thank you.” (X-Men 127)

Proteus takes Moira hostage as the X-Men confront him. They fight.

Ordinarily, I don’t pay a lot of attention to the fight scenes, because recapping those usually boils down to “Cyclops conks Magneto in the helmet” or “Wolverine snikts Pyro in the gas tank”, but this one is truly great. John Byrne delivers some excellent work, showcasing the scope of Proteus’ powers through his art, his panelling. Don’t just take my word for it:

I love how trippy all of this is. Pivoting gravity, changing an optic beam into flowers… Sure, Proteus might be a callous and cruel SoB, but he’s also one imaginative motherfucker. (X-Men 127)

One by one, Proteus manages to distract or take out the X-Men, either by endangering passers-by, encasing them in amber (Storm) or burying them alive (Banshee). One of my favorite details is how afraid they all are: especially Wolverine and Nightcrawler hesitate before jumping into the fray. For them, this villain is truly beyond their scope.

In the end, it’s Phoenix who manages to drive him back, outside of the center of Edinburg and up an old castle, where there are fewer civilians to threaten. There, on the ramparts, it’s Colossus who makes the final stand: he destroys Proteus’ physical body and realizes that right now, there’s only one thing they can do to stop him. All it will cost is Piotr’s innocence.

Showcasing an ancient Japanese truth: Psychic Pokémon are weak to Steel attacks. (X-Men 128)

Proteus scatters to the winds and the X-Men emerge victorious, though Moira has lost both her son and her husband after this ordeal. Moreover, I think this is the first villain that the X-Men explicitly kill, simply because they have no other options left. This marks the first time that their ideal of mutant rehabilitation fails. What’s worse is that Kevin MacTaggart was essentially nothing more than a supremely screwed up boy who got access to way too much power way too quickly.

I wonder if it would have turned out differently had Xavier been there. (I also wonder if it’s a coincidence that this takes place right before the Dark Phoenix saga.)

I think this might be Claremont’s best arc yet, heightened by John Byrne’s excellent art. Chris deftly mixes horror, action and his usual soap opera elements, serving one cohesive narrative that (for once) doesn’t leave much hanging. Proteus is an excellent villain whose powers work visually (pay attention, MCU) and whose entire being touches on one of the same aspects as Krakoa: can and should every mutant fit into any sort of normal society?

If you have someone who’s interested in vintage X-Men and you want to recommend something that doesn’t require a confusing explanation of all the necessary backstory (and perhaps a crude sketch of the Summers and/or Lensherr family tree), I would recommend this arc.

And the rest, as they say, is Hellfire. 1980 is gonna be a doozy.

[keigoloveminty]

Diamond

Plot: After getting her heartbroken for 6th times, y/n is finally done and decided to not even bother finding another one, she has more options than she thinks she has

Pairing/s: Hawks x Reader, Izuku x reader, Todoroki x reader, Shinsou x reader, Dabi x reader, Shigaraki x reader, Genten x reader, Aizawa x reader 

All characters are aged up to 25+ 

Warning: Mafia Au, LOV crew is soft to reader,(No Yandere’s just jealous and angry exes :>), also this is me not continuing my other fanfics-- please I just wanna finish it without having another idea again HAHAHHAHA (I have to finish a request as well :’>)

You weren't sure what you’ve done in the past month now, you’ve just got your heartbroken-- again and for the 6th time now. You didn’t know what to do so you just laid there in bed starring at the window that showed you it was broke daylight and here you were, covered in your huge fluffy blanket with blood shot eyes from crying last night, your eyes were still watery and a bit scratchy be honest. You really want to just get up and get ready for the day but you were starring at the window for the past 3 hours now, you woke up exactly at 5am and it was now 9:20 am, you’ve heard your phone go off a lot of times and made you irritated that you turned off your phone and setting up an alarm clock to wake you up early. You’ve just moved to your new place a couple weeks ago, for a normal person it would've took them months to get settled into a new space but due to your connections with Shigaraki, you both were very close and whenever you had a break-up you’ll always end up in his apartment picking up a new place for you and your shop to relocate at. You and Shigaraki go way back to grade school along with his friend named Dabi if you remembered correctly but you both didn't see each other everyday and if you did you guess he had time off from the ‘Family business’ he would always say to you. You didnt want to push the subject any further so you just nodded and never brought the subject up, you couldn't help but try to guess what family business you thought he had so you made it a personal goal to guess what kind of job he had. 

When you told him if he has a job that sold houses-- considering he would help you find one to your liking within a few hours of looking and then making sure there was someone to buy your old house and transferred the money to your account. All the houses were within your budget since your shop was really successful and you were glad you had something to distract you and keep you busy whenever you were going through a heartbreak, all the sweet and sugary things you baked and made made you temporarily forget the sadness but it takes times for you to heal on your own but as soon as you've had you 3rd break up you kind off found a few ways to heal. You were always the one who would confess first and the first one to get heartbroken as well, sometimes you didn’t know why or what have you done to even get dumped in the first place because you always made sure not upset them in any way. If they needed space then you would give them time to breath but then after days of not talking to them to give them space they were suddenly throwing themselves to another person and dumping you the next days, so whenever you fought with your partner you were already ringing up Shigaraki to find you a new place and reserving it for you.

You’ve moved to a lot of places with your parents back when they were still with you but now that they weren't with you since they died peacefully, you kept the shop that both of your parents build up and kept the business up and going. Shigaraki was always there by your side whenever you called and if not your both would talk to each other through the phone for hours until one of you has to go, you were always happy to talk to him whenever he had to vent up something when something happens in his ‘Family Business’. Back to the topic of this ‘Family Business’, there were months of you not meeting Shigaraki since he had to fly somewhere far from Japan which mean he had a different time zone than you. Dabi was a second option to hangout with but he was always not available every time you tried to call and tell him to hangout with you but whenever he did he would come in clothed fully for top to bottom, you guess it was because he had to cover the scars from his past that you refrained from asking him too much, back then he would always have his arms wrapped in bandages to school. When you would ask him he would always brush it off as ‘I fell down a stairs’ or ‘I accidentally used my quirk too much’ and you did know when he used his quirk it would cause his whole body to heat up causing his skin to be burned, Cremation is his quirk, a blue flame-- the hottest part of any flame. He always told you how much he didn’t really have a good relationship with his father and that he would always say that he’d one day leave his house and just crash with Shigaraki, you nod at this as you applied a clean bandage over his arms carefully.

In this current day of age, half of the people who had quirks were called special people and those who don't have a quirk were called quirkless people and at covered least 60% of the population while the other half were people with quirks. As soon as people with different types of quirks arise it shock the whole nation and caused both side to drift apart which cause chaos, the other side tried to fight and fend off the side that had quirks which didn’t ended well. As truce, an organisation was built to control people who would use their quirks for power, people with quirks who didn’t had the same idea with the idea of over throwing the people who didn’t had quirks went against their own kind and protected the ones who didn’t have quirks. So naturally they were praised by people and would call them ‘Heroes’ but that still wasn't enough seemingly as the people who had stronger quirks were on the other side, they called those people of that side Mafia’s or Yakuza’s. They didn’t like the thought of the government controlling them so they went against them, the world of mafia’s was something unknown to you and it wasn't like you didnt know them but you somewhat wanted to know what their world looked like. It’s hard to even spot someone who work is basically selling guns, drugs, killing people or anything that's deemed illegal. You were curious but you never tried to even look for one so you tend to just keep away from alley ways or even night outs since you’ve been told that it was dangerous out night, you got that from Shigaraki and Dabi as well as your other friends that you’ve befriended.

You were curious but you were not stupid enough to even seek out let alone coincidentally stumble upon one and you did not want that to happen, another ring sounds through the whole room and you looked at your table side. You reached out and grabbed it looking at the name, the brightness of your phone illuminating your whole face 

Keigo Takami 

You sighed and silenced your phone, you should changed your sim card and made sure to just save the ones you needed to save, you either have to tolerate your phone ringing every now and then, get a new phone and sim card or just completely destroy this phone and just get a new one but you didn’t want the hassle of buying a new phone anyway. You pushed the blanket off your whole body and stretched your arms and got off the bed and went straight to the bathroom and freshen up, there were still a lot of unpacked boxes that littered around the apartment some open some still sealed closed. You tipped toed around the boxes scattered around and finally you got to your bathroom, you flipped the lights on and looked at yourself through the mirror. You furrowed your eyebrows as you looked at the state you were in, you sighed and turned on the faucet to wash your face and remove whatever dirt was on your face. After that you ran a warm shower, being generous with the shampoo for your long hair, scrubbing your scalp then rubbing the ends of your hair, next is conditioner. You washed off the conditioner then grabbed a loofa and scrubbed off all the dead skin, you washed your whole body then turning the shower off, you grabbed the towel from the counter and wrapped it around your body, blow dried your hair then stepped out of the room to find something to wear. You walked in front of your closet and just grab what ever you see first, you grabbed a medium sized polo-- your guessing it was from Dabi sleeping over for awhile and forgot to bring it back with him-- and a high waisted shorts. You weren't sure if you’ll step outside from your apartment since you weren't even finish putting the shop up, arranging your cooking appliances downstairs from your three story building-- thank Shigaraki for giving you such nice places to stay at. 

At first you were a bit skeptical of choosing this place but Shigaraki told you this one had a lot more room and floors for you to decorate and do whatever you want. The building was three stories high, on the first floor you had your bakery shop, on the second floor is where your home is with plenty of and on the third floor is the roof top. You haven’t started any decorating on the roof top you might just use it as a place just to chill and maybe just plant some flowers or maybe vegetables and fruits or maybe you’ll just put up a table and a couple of chairs for you to just chill there whenever you feel like you need to take a break. The rent for this building was reasonable enough for to rent it, due to the money your receiving from your ‘distant relatives’, you’ve never talked to them all you had was a two credit cards where they sent you more than enough money to spend on something every month. If your lucky they might send you twice the amount next month or send more money on the 3rd week of each month, that's all the connection you had with them you didn’t even know where they even live so as much as you want to thank them for being so generous in sending you money. You sat in front of your vanity and grabbed you brush and started brushing your long silky hair, after you ran your finger through your hair you picked up a hair tie and put your hair up in a high ponytail, you placed your brush down making sure pull out the hairs that were stuck in the brush and threw it straight to the trash. You looked on the table searching for any accessory that you could wear, moving both your hands to searching for anything, after looking around your eyes locked on a slick black box. You reached for it and opened it slowly, the box held a precious Diamond crystal necklace and two diamond earrings in heart form, you picked the earrings up and decided to just wear that. That was a gift from Shigaraki for your 24th birthday last year, you smiled at the memory and stood up from your seat and fixed some of your baby hairs that framed your face, you looked at the time 11:20 am. You sighed and smiled and raised both of your arms,”Okay! Its time to finish the shop!”

---

You swiped the sweat that formed on your forehead as you carried the last box of your baking ingredients to the back, the shop was just about ready to open since Dabi finished putting up all the table and chairs, the small vases on the table, the picture frames, set up the display glass that will show case your delicious sweets and lastly your cash register. Meanwhile you were working at the back placing where all the cooking utensils, bowls, mixers will be, Dabi also help you with that once he was done in the front. You placed all the last ingredients, you did one look around the place and let out a happy sigh and leaned back on the marbled table,”You certainly finished all work now did ya’ doll?”, you let out a scream and looked at the direction where the voice was. You let a breath of relief when you saw who it was,”Dabi can't you please tell me when you decide to visit me? I could've hit you with a spatula..”, you crossed your arms in front of you and pouted looking at him. Dabi rolls his eyes and zips down his black hoodie,”I thought you got used to me popping up now and then, sorry about that doll”, his nickname to you back in high school, you liked it so you didnt complain. “You need something? I could bake your favourite dessert if you want?”, You asked him as you walk to get the ingredients, he stops you by reaching your arm and grabbing it softly. You looked at him with a questioning look,”Hm? What is it, Dabi?”, you turned you whole body to face him, he looks straight into your e/c eyes with his teal eyes. His eyes narrows his eyes when he picks up those almost unnoticeable eye bags as moves closer to your face, you noticed he was starring too much at you, you turned you head away not noticing a small smirk from Dabi but quickly as it came it disappeared into a small frown,”Sorry I could've been there to comfort you its just that.. my job called me right the time I thought I had a day off”, he apologises. His hand that was on your arm slowly slides up to cup you cheeks, his thumb caresses you soft cheek, you leaned into his soft touch and closed your eyes. 

Dabi smiles and gentle pulls your head to rest into his warm embrace, your arms wrapped around his waist as you hurried you face into his chest as he pats your head. You smiled feeling warm and cozy in his arms, because of Dabi’s quirk his whole body was warm and you really liked it,”As much as I like you hugging me, wanna get out if here and just walk around the city?”, he asks you. You looked up to look at him,”Sure! I plan on checking the area out anyways before the sun come down and I have to retreat back to my bed”, you moved away from him gesturing Dabi to follow you to the front of the shop, he follows right behind you to the front door. You switch off the light in the shop and closed the door and locked it, putting the keys away you looked at Dabi who had his hoodie up and zipped up to his mouth. You smiled and jogged to his side and matching his pace,”So where do you want to go? I’m pretty new to this area and I heard from Shigraki that you guys live around this area, I’m hearing a sleepover”, You happily jumped and nudge your elbow on Dabi’s arm. Dabi gives you a side eyes look and rolls his eyes playfully,”I don't mind but my job lovesss love calling me whenever I'm relaxing and its my day ooff”, Dabi held his hands up to his chest and lets out a “enthusiastic”  ‘yay’ that made you laugh. That being said you didn’t know what Dabi’s job is either, you didn’t know Toga’s, Bubugiwara’s, Miss Magne’s, She Astuhiro-- you knew none of what their job was but you do know what Shigaraki’s job and thats basically it. You’ve asked them a lot of times but all you got was--

“My job? How silly n/n-chan, a woman never tells her secrets”, Toga replies grinning looking at you,’ehehehe.. a stripper maybe?’, you brushed off the thought and just nodded

“Eh? My job? Hmm I dint think you should know Yeah! A precious gem like you shouldn’t know! Dont want you to be tainted cause Shigaraki might have our head! Soowwyy precious diamond!”,Bubugiwara and his other half says,’He cant tell me.. and Shigaraki might have his head? what does he mean by that?’, you just gave a short nod and sipped on your f/d drink.

“Hm, my job you say. Sorry sweetheart but I cant tell you that, as much as I want to, Dia. My job is quite complicated I dont want you to get into my mess”, Miss Magne says as she pats your head and hands you a creampuff,”Wanna try my latest flavour though? I heard you love strawberries!”, she smiles. You returned the smile and took a bite from the creampuff and tasting the strawberry flavour,’So Magne won't tell me as well, what does she mean by ‘I dont want you to get into my mess’??’, you smiled back at her,”I love it!! Please teach me how to make this creampuffs!”, Miss Magne is the one that teaches you how to cook desserts and give you new ideas

“I’m not telling Y/n, even if you bother me everyday..”, Genten says sipping on his hot chocolate, you pouted and crossed your arms looking at him with a dejected expression,”Not even a hint?”, you pressed on waiting for his answer. You looks at you with his silver eyes,”...No”, you slumped down the couch he sat on till your legs hit the floor,”Ughhh... none of you guys tell me what your job iisss, is your job that scary that might scare me?”, you asked again looking at Geten again. You both starred at each other for a whole minute, Genten was the first to look away,”No comment..”, you let out another grumble crossing your arms 

“My sweet Diamond, i’am afraid I can not tell you what my job it”, you let out a loud groan,”You too Atsu-kun? What does a girl like me have to do to know what your jobs are...”, you pouted slumping your arms on top of the table. He laughs as he cooks a sip from his tea,”Shigaraki has told me you’ve asked the whole group, its a good thing he told us all”, you looked up to his face lazily and   twitched your eyes clearly annoyed,”All I know is Shigaraki’s job..”, you looked to your side hiding your annoyed expression. Atsuhiro flinched at this but you didnt saw this,”.. which is selling houses”, he breaths out not knowing he held his breath. You looked back at him with an eyebrow raised,”This tea is absolutely Devine!”, you looked at him straight face. “.. ... you always order the same tea Atsu--”  “Devine!!”

“Heyyy Dabi! I was wondering if--”, before you could finish your sentence, Dabi presses his forehead against yours,”Not telling, Doll”, he sings the word doll. You pulled yourself backwards, your face flushing red. “I haven’t even finished yet!!”, You shake on his shoulders, he shrugs and just pats your head,”You want an answer?”, you shook your head up and down trying to not to look too excited. He grabs your shoulder and moves his face close to your ear,”I strip my clothes for money--”, Your whole body froze. Face getting red each second, he pulls back to look at you, he pulls back laughs at your expression,”O-oh.. okay then..”, Dabi hunches his body forwards holding his stomach, slapping his thigh,”I’m joking Doll, also not telling”, you hit his head with an angry expression.

Those were all the responses they gave you were all the same, they would not answer you nor give you a hint but rather something that gave it away. With those evidences you could try to piece things together to find your answer, you were suddenly pulled out of thoughts when you felt Dabi tapped your shoulder. You looked up to face him,”We’re almost near a cafe, it looks packed too but I heard the sold really good crepes too, in all kinds of flavours as well”, he says pulling you to the cafe takin the open seat outside the cafe. You both sat down and wait for a waiter to give you a menu, as quickly as you both sat a waiter comes up and gives you a menu,”Hello there and well some to Sweet Parade, My names Mary and I'll be your waitress for this afternoon. I shall comeback shortly to take your order”, She places both menu’s down in front of you both, bowed and walked away. You picked up the menu and scanned each dish, moving on to the next page, then the next page, next, next-- you got to the end of the menu and placed it down then closed it. You looked back at Dabi who was struggling to even pick what he wanted to order,”You still looking?”, you asked him, he grumbles out flipping to the next page. “The letters are so small, there's too many things in the menu, can’t choose anything..”, he says as he flips to the next page. You opened your menu again and asked him,”What are you craving right now?”, you asked him. Dabi closes the menu and looks at you with a smirk,”I’m pretty sure you know what I want, we’ve been friends for so long. Right now I guess I’m craving something hot and cheesy and something fizzy to wash all that grease down--”, as soon as he says that, your eyes shined a faint red. You scanned each page reading each letter, trying to match Dabi’s preference, not staying more than 10 seconds on each page you flipped to the next page.

You then closed the menu again and told him the food that might match his preference,”They pizza in different flavours on page 5 and a couple of fizzy drinks in the last page--”, you looked at him, you original e/c eyes shined. Dabi smirks at this and rests chin on his hand,”What kind of flavours and what fizzy drinks?”, you narrowed your eyes at this and sighed. You opened your mouth sand told him all the flavour the cafe had in detail and the drinks as well, Dabi’s eyes weren't on you but rather behind the servers who looked at you with eyes wide as plates when they heard you recite the dishes when you just glanced at each page for a brief moment,”--and lastly they have sprite, coke and Diet Coke. Now are we ready to order? I’m kinda hungry”, you huffed and crossed your arms. Dabi gestures the waitress to get their orders. She quickly walks to your table taking your order,”Hello there again, are we ready to place your orders?”, Dabi waves his hands fro you to go first,”Thank you, I’ll have the strawberry crepe and strawberry milkshake please”, you told her, she juts down your order then looks at Dabi,”I’ll have your pepperoni pizza and a coke-- not diet”, you giggled at this and playfully rolled your eyes. The waitress hums and writes down her paper,”Okay, your orders will be up in 30 minutes or less”, she bows done and left with your orders. Dabi leans back and groans,”30 minutes? I’am not leaving a tip..”, you laughed and looked at the people walking around the cafe, its was 4 pm and at this time people were leaving their work to either go home or just hangout around with friends or family. “By the way.. you free tonight doll?”, you turned your head to Dabi. “Well now that the shops done I guess I'm free but I wont be opening my doors till next week cause I’ll have to wake up early for that”, you say tilting your head to the side

“Why the sudden question?”, you asked him. Dabi makes eye contact with you for a second looks at the large glass window of the cafe,”Theres a party-- a real fancy party thats going to be held in a large indoor venue and I want you to go with me. Its totally fine if you dont want to though..”, his voice got quiet till the end but you could still hear him. He looks at your expression to see if you would agree and soon enough he saw your eyes had stars, he must be seeing things,”A fancy party?! I've never been to those kinds of things-- wait is this part of your job? Is it? Is it?!”, you stood up from your seat both hands on the table and leaned forward to Dabi. Dabi clears his throat and tells you to sit down, you sat down pushing your chair forwards waiting for his reply,”Some parts of it IS my job, so you wanna go or what--”, you slammed your hands on the table,”YES!! I wanna go, I wanna go, I wanna go--”, you chanted looking at him with eyes shining. Dabi holds his hand up, you stopped and looked at him,”Okay then, You better eat fast then cause the party’s is at 7pm and the venue is pretty far”, you nod at this nearly jumping out of your seat again. You begun thinking what should you even wear at the party-- wait you have to ask him that,”Wait- how exactly were you invited to this party? Also what should I wear?”, you asked him. “First, Shigaraki was suppose to tell you this but he has shit to get done for his Family business--”

‘There's that word again-- wait Shigaraki?? Did his employer invited him to their party??’,You raised an eyebrow looking at Dabi,”Shigaraki? who's holding the party Dabi?”, you asked, Dabi rolls his eyes at this,”Its Shigaraki doll, he’s.. job gets him to places I guess..”,he says he shift his eyes to your side. “Also our orders are here now”, you looked behind you and saw a serve with your orders. “Here you go Maam, Sir. Please enjoy your order”, you thanked the server and looked at your strawberry crepe and strawberry milkshake. You looked towards Dabi’s order that almost took the whole table,”You.. going to finish that--”

“Every last bite of it”

---

You sat in front of the vanity doing your make up, Dabi went back to his apartment to get suited up for the occasion and said he’ll pick you up around 6pm. You were doing a simple make up since Dabi told you not to glam up too much,”Okay.. then some red lipstick blended outwards for a gradient effect”, you blended it out with a lip brush. Curled your lashes and put mascara on, a light blush on your cheeks, you smiled as you looked at your work through the mirror. You were wearing a the Diamond necklace and the earrings from what you've wore earlier, you wore a short dress that huge your body tight was covered in gems with a plunging v-neck and spaghetti straps tied at your neck. You didnt know what do to with your hair and since the dress was open at the back you might want to stick close to Dabi,”Well aren't you looking dolled up, you look hella sexy doll”, you wipped your face to look behind you, you sighed as it was just Dabi,”Seriously Dabi? Again? I didnt here the door open--”, you blushed as you looked at him, he wore a dark blue dress pants, black vest, white buttoned up sleeves and a red neck tie,“You look... amazing”,you looked away rubbing your arms. Dabi throws his coat on the bed and grabs your arm,”I’ll do your hair, you have a curler with you?”, he lets you sit in front of your vanity again. You pointed at the third drawer, he reaches for the third drawer and pulled out the curler and plug it in, as it was heating up he grabs the brush and brushes the tangles, he bunches up the hair for a high ponytail like what your had earlier. He tightens the hair tie and grabs the curler and curls the ends softly once he was done he grabs some of the hair behind the ponytail and used it to cover the hair tie and pins it down. 

He uses a bit of hairspray to keep the baby hairs down, he takes a step back and admires his work,”Perfect.. you have your shoes on?”, he asks you. You stood up and walked to your closet,”Yup! Its right at the bottom of the closet--”,  Dabi stops you and tells you to sit down,”Actually I have something to match that outfit, finally”, he brings out a black shoebox. You eyes widen as he opens it, its a 4 inch heel covered in gems that probably cost three times more than the money you received from your distant relatives,”I-is this a part two to the dress I’m wearing right now?”, the dress you were wearing was a gift from Dabi for your birthday last year. Dabi grins as he holds up on pair,”Yup now show me those pretty feet of yours”, you rolled your eyes. Dabi-- or rather all of them treated you like a princess or like a diamond they would say and call you that sometimes. He places the first pair on you and then the second, he places your feet down,”They are the right size right?”, he asked as he holds out a hand to which you grabbed and pulls you to stand up. You almost stumbled backwards if it wasn't for Dabi grabbing your waist to steady yourself,”T-thank you and yes they are the right size, we should probably get going right?”, you told him. Dabi--still has his arm around you reaches for his coat,”Yep and I can tell we both are going to be late, Shigaraki might not like this”, you both walked out of your apartment. As you walked out of the back door and though the alleyway to the front your flinched at what you saw, a sleek jet black sports car. You turned your head to Dabi in surprise,”We-- thats-- umm.. are we??”, he quickly pulls you towards the car,”No time doll, good thing I brought this instead, we need a miracle to get there in a few minutes, now get in”, he opens the door and you entered inside the warm seat. The drivers door opens and Dabi steps in and closes the door,”You ready Y/n?”, you nod as you fastened your seatbelt,”You better hold on tight cause I’am not slowing down.”, he turns on his car with his is keys, change his gear and steps on the pedal.

[mint-yooxgi]

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?”

[de-profundis-ad-astra]

WIP INTRO || WRETCHES AND KINGS Writeblr Masterlist

GENRE || Adult Urban Gothic POV || Third person omniscient STATUS || First draft completed, second draft in progress SETTING || Modern day THEMES/FEATURES || Modern mythology, criminal aesthetic, found family, immortality, death, revenge, grief cycle, moral crises, platonic soulmates

SYNOPSIS

An undeniable crime problem plagues the city of Easthold, an affluent city rife with thieves and bandits of all pedigrees. This in and of itself is not all that strange. What’s strange is the incredibly high volume of unsolved crimes, of acts no one has claimed, ones even the Easthold Police Department can’t even begin to find blame for. Even when committed in broad daylight, even when the police arrive on the scene in the middle of a heist, no one manages to catch more than unclear glimpses of the culprits, no bullets hit their marks, and when all is said and done there is somehow never any reliable evidence. No camera ever manages to catch a thing, no trap is ever successful, and never has a single witness managed a coherent report, like somehow none of them ever pay enough attention. Like somehow what they’ve seen can never be put into words.

Throw a stone in Easthold and you’ll hit a crook, from thugs to conmen to masked killers who all call the city home. They all know their place, yet somehow the balance of powers never really makes sense. Like something is missing. Like everyone is fighting to be the second best while the title of top dog remains empty. Not that the reluctance to take charge is all that surprising, considering the way any crew which starts to grow big enough to extend their hold over the city is cut down. Driven out or found murdered, often laying in the remains of what was clearly a vicious shootout, though the killers are never found. Like vigilantes, only not so altruistic; the spoils belonging to the defeated gangs are always taken, only to reappear at the scene of yet another unrelated crime.

There’s something deeply wrong in Easthold. Something strange and unsettling. Like a catastrophic event has knocked the whole city just slightly out of sync with the rest of the world. It’s in the way the EPD have cabinet upon cabinet of unsolved crimes that never manage to make their way into reports, years of unacceptably unpunished offences that would bring the might of a federal investigation if only they were disclosed. In the way a startling amount of those offences resemble crimes from days long past.

There are secrets in Easthold. Things no one knows, things everyone knows, and awful, impossible, inescapable reality they’ve all been trapped within. It’s in the way unease builds and dissipates without cresting, citizens never quite recognizing their own discomfort, never fully acknowledging the oddity of acting without reason, of crossing the street or averting their eyes, of taking the long way home simply because that one corner just didn’t feel right. In the way the city is beset by sudden explosions, the way gunfire rattles, the way streets echo with chilling laughter like the ghost of a memory, the phantom chill of a nightmare, the ceaseless loop of those who will not be laid to rest.

MAIN CAST

MARLENE WALCROFT || As the leader, Marlene has always has to present herself as reasonably level-headed, controlled outside the occasional snaps of frightful anger, a little overbearing in her need to dictate every plan maybe, but what criminal kingpin isn’t? What’s odd is the new fear kept behind closed doors, Marlene second guessing her own ideas to a degree that is wholly out of character, running over plans again and again, pulling them apart and looking for flaws, debriefing even after successful missions when everyone else just wants to celebrate, unconsciously pressing her hand to her heart like reassurance that it’s still beating.

SPENCER MCFARLANE || He may be happier in a no-holds-barred fist fight, but nobody could say Spencer isn’t good with a gun, an excellent shot with just about any weapon he can get his hands on. What’s odd is the little burst of panic he gets right after firefights, patting his own chest, checking again and again like he can’t quite believe he wasn’t hit.

HYRENE BRAEDEN || For all her quick temper and flippant attitude, Hyrene can be utterly pedantic about checking and rechecking the timers on bombs, which honestly isn’t an awful trait. What’s odd is the way Hyrene gets angry about it sometimes, storms about the penthouse yanking out every last alarm clock, the way she swears she can still hear something ticking with furious intention, like the last seconds of a countdown.

TERRANCE PHOENIX || Terrance isn’t wracked by guilt, doesn’t regret what he does the way some might; he’s a killer and he owns it, he chose it, and it truly doesn’t bother him. What’s odd is the way he still can’t sleep, can’t close his eyes some nights when the darkness squeezes close and he feels so cold, like the depths of the ocean are pressing down on him, stealing the air from his lungs. As Marlene’s second in command, he feels the responsibility to hold the crew together in the event that the kingpin finally snaps.

KYE || In terms of safety, Kye is as reckless as they come, all slapdash impulses and delighted disregard, chasing amusement at any cost when it’s only their neck on the line. What’s odd is that sometimes Kye walks around with a parachute strapped to their back and no intention of flying that day, utterly overzealous precaution without any real explanation as to why, like some part of them is always terrified they’re going to fall.

CAIM ROBINETT || Caim drives like he made a deal with the devil, like every vehicle is just an extension of his being, inherent ability paired with unmatchable knowledge of ever backroad alley in the city. What’s odd is the nightmarish daydreams he gets sometimes, when he looked back at his latest baby and sees flickers of crunched metal and shattered glass, the phantom scent of spilled gasoline and the unmissable click-swoosh of a catching flame.

ELIAN REED || There’s nothing odd about Elian. Just an unfortunate case of someone who got caught in the wrong situation at the wrong time. Or perhaps something is off. Every moment spent with her savior, the queen with hair like fire, it’s almost as though she’s in the presence of a ghost. They’re all like ghosts, and she can’t quite place a finger on why. She also can’t place a finger on why not just Marlene, but everyone in her inner circle, is so hellbent on making sure she’s never around them for just a moment too long.

EXCERPT

This job. Shit.

Terrance had his own suspicions about how aware the others were of how frequently he snuck off. Hyrene knew. And that didn’t necessarily mean the others did, too, but it left the possibility. That was enough to set his teeth on edge. Marlene asking him to play such a pivotal role in the job only made it worse.

If she knew about what he was doing now, then she was undoubtedly asking him to do it with the belief that he would not be walking away from it.

And for that alone, he would be sure to prove her wrong. How dare she disrespect him like this. Besides, when he died and woke up still in her home, then that would be cause for a great deal of fun.

He hadn’t been prepared for it all to happen so soon, though. He’d expected another few months to prepare to get rid of the threat that was Marlene McFarlane, but in that time she, too, had identified him as a threat, and was making the first move to see him taken off of the playing board.

“Terrance.”

Not a question of his presence. A statement. He heard the clacking of Marlene’s heels on the hardwood floor before she appeared.

Maybe the first punches would be thrown tonight, then.

“Yeah,” he said in answer, dipping his head in Marlene’s direction as she made her approach. She stalked forward with the gait of someone intent of making him into prey. He did not appreciate that.

“I had a question for you,” she said, positioning herself across the island from him. A smart move, if she really knew the extent to which he could harm her. If he tried hard enough, there wasn’t anything in the world that could bring her back.

But she didn’t need to know that. Not yet. Right now all she needed was the reliable second in command that he had dutifully played the role of for many years. The time for surprises would come later. Perhaps sooner than expected, but they could still wait.

“Go ahead,” he said invitingly, even going so far as to open his hands to her. Nonthreatening.

Her pale green eyes fixed on his mask, still settled near the corner of the island. Her eyes tightened. Okay, maybe a little threatening.

“How did you do it?” she asked.

Terrance laughed out loud. “I’ve done a great many things in this life you’ve given me. You’ll have to be more specific than that.”

Marlene kept her expression flat. Though emotionless, she somehow appeared angry when she asked, “How did you kill a god?”

Terrance paused in the middle of his drink, suddenly finding that he had to channel all of his focus into making sure he didn’t choke up what he’d already swallowed. Carefully swallowing what was in his mouth, Terrance lowered his glass to the counter with a quiet thunk.

“Who’d you hear that from?” he asked, his voice rasping slightly.

“People whisper,” said Marlene with a nonchalant shrug, leaning with her elbows against the surface of the island. “They spin the most splendorous tales out there, do you know that?”

“They’re also a bunch of crackheads who hallucinate half of the things they think they see,” Terrance countered. It certainly wasn’t false.

“But the imagery they spin is so vivid, wouldn’t you say?” said Marlene. “You haven’t heard the tales they tell about you?”

“Can’t say I have.”

“They whisper of the Renegade in a skull mask.” Another flicker of her eyes in the direction of the very same mask. “They worship the ground the Master of Death walks on as he mingles with the living.”

TAGLIST

@firefeatherx @goldenhour-goldenboy @mandoplease @mylifeliterally @phoenixhalliwell @havenforafrazzledmind @living-reminder @beatriz-silva-00 @pascalz @worldominatorx @givemethatgold @agirllovespancakes @lilacyennefer @dignityneeded @veuliee @briskywalker @davairys @aetherwrites @ryns-ramblings @teriwrites

[axymmetryx]

10:04

Choi Saeyoung/707 | Mystic Messenger

another sloppy mess asddhsksla- didn't do any scan so meh for mistakes.

Day Three: Murder

The sound of the rain should have been calming in the night, with a few blankets to bundle yourself up from the constant chill of the weather and with plans to beat Yoosung up again in the LOLOL ranking. It was suppose to be a calming night, but it was only suppose to be.

Covering the sounds of the rain were the splashing of his footsteps on the puddles of water decorated on the ground, Saeyoung was a dripping mess.

His head was all mushed up in too many trains of thoughts to muster up any common sense of direction. At this point, his feet was the one thinking. He ran as fast as he could muster, clutching a small piece of metal on his chest.

A rising panic crossed his features when he heard the sounds of siren and the dreadful flashing blue and red lights were visible through his eyes as if it was mocking his very existance at this moment. The sounds of one, two... countless footsteps were growing louder and louder. And as if the world ain't cruel enough for him, he slowed down to a stop at the sight in front of him. His body trembling in dejection and exhaustion.

He reached a hand and pressed it softly against the wall in front of him, "Dead End." a whispered resolve escape his lips, he then lift his head up to look at the sky, clouded with darkness.

He let the rain drop on his flawless face, ignoring the warm liquid mixing with the coolness of raindrops as it flowed endlessly across his cheeks.

"Freeze! We have the area surrounded, put your hands in the air!" a threaten could be heard behind him, sounds of loading guns that he knew only offered five bullets each. He mentally calculated the amount of times a hundred police could shoot when he made any wrong move.

But he clutched dearly for life on that one single metal in his hand. The only thing that matter now, as he closed his eyes. "I'm sorry." was the last words he uttered before everything went black.

__

"... Leave him to me." he heard a few faint voices in the distance, as he forced his eyes open, he immediatly closed them as soon as a bright white light stared right back at him. He groaned wiggled from his spot as he attempted to open his eyes the second time around, slowly this time.

"Luciel, don't force yourself up." A voice with a matching hand pushed him down on the bed gently to try and calm him down but he tensed at the touch and his eyes flickered open to look at the voice's owner.

"... V?" he questioned slowly as if mentioning his name would make him disappear all of a sudden. He watched as the mint haired man nodded and his body finally relaxed.

"What happened? Why am I in the hospital?" he asked, clutching on the white sheet of cloth in both his hands. Something didn't feel right– "You got into an accident, you were driving on the way to the party when another car sped up to you. You might feel a slight pain on your head because the doctor said you bumped it too hard." V ended his explanation with no more room to question as he took a seat at the far end of the room in a sofa.

Now that V mentioned it, his head felt like it was about to explode from the pain and he consciously lift a hand to press to his beating forehead. He felt a bandage wrapped tightly around the entirety of his head and groaned before laying his hand back at rest. He sighed once the pain subsided and glanced back at V who was looking directly at him.

"Am I suffering from amnesia? I can't seem to remember driving or hitting anything." he spoke, feeling uneasy, especially the clawing feeling in the pit of his guts telling him that something wasn't right.

"... You did hit your head pretty hard." was the only reply he got, before V stood up and headed for the door, "You'll be discharged tomorrow, the others already know, so right now, please rest, Luciel, I'll be back later." he watched as V walked out the door, waiting to hear a small click before sitting up on the bed, despite the harsh pounding in his brain.

He looked at both the bedside tables to see if he can grab ahold of anything. He saw nothing but a flower vase and a basket of fruits, a little too fancy for a hospital decoration so he figured it probably came from Jumin and the others. He sighed in frustration because he couldn't remember anything.

He knows that V is lying, because the tone of his voice was too plain, too calm from how V usually talks. But he didn't know what he was hiding.

What happened?

He unconciously formed a fist and lift a hand up to clutch his chest, he felt as he was suppose to be holding something, but nothing came.

He then starting feeling his body to see any signs of injections, and as he tilt his head a little, he felt a faint stinging pain on the back of neck, too easy to disregard if he hadn't paid attention to it.

He turned to look at the needle attached to the back of his left hand and looked up at the liquid in the hanging bag. He immediatly ripped the needle out of his hand and attempted to stand up from bed, the world was spinning and he collapsed just beside the bed. But he had to get out of there.

__

He didn't know how he did it but he actually got out of the hospital with ease. Weird. He thought, but he continued running away in nothing but a patient gown., he ran barefooted. No idea where his feet was taking him.

This was oddly a familiar scenario, it was like he did this just recently in a different circumstance. As he wondered what might have happen to be too much of a deja vu, he bumped into someone and he fell down on the ground from the impact, accidentally hitting his head on a pole in the process and his mind went into another frenzy of pain. He crawled up into a ball, gripping his head in uncontrollable pain, a set of flashback flashed across his eyes.

Blood. Lots of it. A hand that he gripped so tightly, and a blinding shing metal. He gasped and flinched as he felt a tight hand suddenly grabbed his shoulders. He started panting in an unpatterned manner as he gazed at a familiar mint haired man. No.

He pushed the hand away as strong as he could, tried punching him if he can but he knew he was too weak. Yet he resisted the urge to give up, fighting the pain in his head, as another set of images flashed before his eyes. One pair of mint green eyes, and a bleached haired boy, was wrapped tightly in his embrace. And he suddenly heard a loud ringing in his ears, it was like an alarm had went off beside both his ears and he screamed at the top of his lungs, trying to drown out the sound, and it did.

He was met with silence for a few moments and the last image played in his mind. He saw the same mint eyed boy staring at him with no hints of regret, a small satisfied smile played across his lips as he held onto something in his bloody hands.

Saeyoung saw a glint of metal being placed onto his own hands, it was a small wristwatch, he noticed. He held onto the small watch as his gaze went back to the boy.

"Saeyoung.. hyung.. that's the gift.. you gave me on our 10th birthday.. remember? You said.. as long as it's ticking... I still have time to spend.. with you.." he listened as the boy, his twin brother, Saeran, spoke with a calm broken voice, as he clutched onto his hand that was holding the wristwatch.

"Thank you, for always giving me hope and for being with me... until the very last moment of my life." he watched as the boy said his final words before closing his eyes, with no intention of opening again.

Saeyoung opened his own eyes and an endless flow of tears ran through his cheeks again, like the same night all of those happened. He didn't notice the sirens echoing in the background, never noticed how V turned his back to him to try and shield him from the eyes of the police.

He didn't hear the shouts of his friends in the crowd of this mess. No.

He only heard the sound of his brother's voice in his head and the image of the wristwatch that Saeran had given him.

10:04. The time an angel was sent to heaven, but also the same time a demon was born.

"I murdered my brother."

__

End.

[quickspinner]

Motorcycle Fairy Part 3 (end)

Part 1 | Part 2

Also available on AO3

His mother had taught him to throw caution to the winds, to take a chance and seize the moment, to care for no one’s opinion and to chase his own happiness.

She hadn’t, however, given him much of an education in the art of the cover story.

Luka pulled up to the campground without a single clue as to what he was going to say if—hopefully when—he ran into Marinette. He hadn’t exactly rushed to get there. He wasn’t a morning person in general and he’d decided to take the scenic route, hoping the familiar ride would help ground him. He’s come to see races here enough times that no one at home even questioned him about his impromptu road trip, which was a blessing. Juleka would never have let him hear the end of it.

The extra time hadn’t helped him, though, because when Luka pulled up to the parking lot next to the campsite and paid for a day pass, he still had no idea how he was going to explain showing up here in a way that wouldn’t sound obsessive or stalkerish or like he was totally smitten and absolutely not willing to trust fate to bring them together a third time. It was true that he loved motorcycle racing and he always enjoyed the energy at Le Mans, but...he really wanted to see Marinette again. 

Luka took off his riding gear and stowed it, dusting off his ripped black jeans and deciding he wouldn’t need his leather jacket. He nervously tugged down the hem of his navy blue t-shirt and then looked around, knees feeling rather weak and butterflies in his stomach as he tried to figure out his next move. Ugh, he was a wreck. Just chill, he told himself, getting out his guitar and sitting back on his bike to tune it, just to calm his nerves. Just enjoy the day and whatever happens, happens. Gina’s in the races, so probably Marinette will be in the stands somewhere so I’ll need to walk over there...

He breathed, and focused for a moment on his pick slipping slowly down the strings, each one now perfectly in tune, and just as the last note faded he heard a familiar laugh. Luka looked up, his heart suddenly in his throat. Apparently fate wasn’t too mad at him for his lack of confidence because there she was.

And...wow, she looked so good. She’d taken his advice and improved on it. Her skinny jeans had leather panels with pink piping running up the sides. A low-slung chain belt hung from her hips and her hair was back in what probably started as a sleek french braid. The slight ruffling and flyaway hairs just softened the otherwise devastating line from her jaw down her bare neck to her shoulders. She’d ditched her jacket somewhere along the way; she wore only a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. Luka swallowed as the guy she was with leaned in, but Marinette just smiled and put her hand on his chest, pushing him back, and apparently saying goodbye as she walked away from him. 

Luka forgot about the other guy when she turned and he saw that the collar was cut too, into a modest V over her chest, not deep enough to actually show anything but more than enough to expose her collarbones and a very appealing expanse of skin. Her sweet face was the same but she looked so much more mature than he’d ever seen her and very, very hot. 

Marinette seemed oblivious to the heads she was turning as she strolled, hips naturally swaying on the uneven ground. Her eyes were on a book in the crook of her arm and she had a look of concentration on her face as she tapped a pencil thoughtfully to her lips. 

No more time for thinking. Time for action. Luka took a breath, shifting so that he leaned as casually as possible against the seat of his bike, and played the song he’d been playing when she’d surprised him at the shop.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw her head whip around towards him, and it was work to keep his smile from giving him away. His heart leapt in his chest as she turned and made her way towards him and shit, he still didn’t know what he was going to say, but screw it, he was good at winging it, right?

“Luka,” she called cheerfully, waving. “Wow, I didn’t think I’d see you here!” 

Luka could feel the eyes on him as he lifted his head and smiled at her. “Hey, Marinette. I was hoping I’d catch you sometime today. Yeah, my plans got cancelled and I didn’t have anything else to do, so I thought...why not a road trip?” He shrugged, and grinned, looking her up and down with considerably less intensity than he had when she wasn’t watching. “You look good.” 

“Good?” she pouted, as he rather thought she would.

“Better than good,” he winked. “Way better. But I don’t think you need me to tell you that,” he added, leaning back slightly to look pointedly at a group of young men behind her. Marinette turned to follow his gaze and blushed deeply when all but one of the group suddenly became very interested in looking elsewhere. The bold one gave her a slow up and down look and a wink. 

Marinette put her nose in the air and turned back to Luka, still red-faced. “Maybe,” she said, shrugging one shoulder and damn, her arms were really toned, he suddenly realized. He hadn’t noticed before because her build was so slender but now that he was looking, the girl had some guns. “But I’d still rather hear it from you.” 

That put a grin on his face that he couldn’t have kept back if he tried. “Where’s your grandma?” he asked, glancing around. “You’re not by yourself are you?” 

“Oh, she’s over at the track buttering up the pit crew,” Marinette said brightly. “I got kind of bored; the tech talk doesn’t interest me the way it probably would you, but I remembered what you said about the bikes over here so I thought I’d take a walk and come look around. I didn’t think I’d find you, though.”

“Well, I hope it’s a good surprise,” Luka said, looking down at his guitar and plucking a string idly just out of nerves. “I was kind of hoping to run into you. I’d love to hang out with you if you’d like to, but if you’d rather not, that’s cool too. I’m not trying to crash your day if you’d rather do your own thing.” 

Marinette’s cheeks pinked and she seemed to have a little trouble meeting his gaze for a moment. “Well, if you didn’t have any other plans, then...yeah, I’d love some company. Your company,” she added hastily, and then blushed redder, looking away. 

“I’d love to give it to you,” he grinned. “What were your plans?” 

“Nothing specific,” Marinette shrugged, and his eyes went to the line of her shoulders again. “I was just doing some sketching and then I thought I’d wander back over a little bit before the race started.

“Oh, awesome, can I see?” Luka asked, and she looked up, eyes brightening.

“You want to?” 

“Yeah, your stuff is amazing.” Luka slid over, making what little room he could for her to come lean next to him. “I’d love to see if that’s okay.” 

Marinette smiled shyly. “Okay. Just, keep in mind I’m not that experienced at drawing cars and things.” 

Luka spared a glance back at the other group of guys as Marinette came and leaned one hip on the bike seat, leaning over to show him her book. He couldn’t resist a smirk when he locked eyes with the one guy, who now looked rather sour.

They chatted about her sketches, Luka identifying the bikes for her to her delight, and he played a little music for her, and then her phone alarm rang out.

“Oh, it’s almost time for Grandma’s race,” she said, pulling the phone out of the back pocket of her jeans (God he really wanted to be that phone all of a sudden) to silence it. “I have to get back to the track.”

“I’ll walk with you,” Luka said, straightening up and failing to not watch her slip the phone back in her pocket. “Just let me lock up.” 

She exclaimed over the custom case he had mounted to the side of his bike as he put his guitar back in it and locked it shut. 

“It cost me a ridiculous amount of money,” Luka admitted, “But it’s a must. I don’t go anywhere without at least one guitar.”

That started another conversation as they began the walk to the racetrack, and he told her about how he’d grown up playing music and what he liked about his different guitar, and she talked about the types of music she liked, and he got to ask her more about working with Jagged and found she’d been a fan even before he was a client. 

Marinette ignored the whistles and catcalls as they walked, so Luka did too, though he walked a little closer to her and tried to stay between her and the worst offenders when the crowd got close. One man put a hand on her, but Marinette brought her boot solidly down on his instep without missing a step and kept walking, grabbing Luka’s arm to keep him from turning and giving the guy a piece of his mind. She kept her hand curled around his bicep for the rest of the walk, and Luka wasn’t sure whether it was for his comfort or hers. He wasn’t about to complain though. (He would, however, go to his grave before he’d admit maybe flexing a little bit under her hand.)

They got to the stands and Marinette had a spot right at the rail waiting for her, and Luka was able to put himself between her and the rest of the crowd. 

The races were the best kind—friendly but absolutely cutthroat—and not only was Marinette sweet, pretty, talented, and smart, she was fun and Luka was having the time of his life. The nervous babbling was cute and all but listening to her trash talk the competition was hilarious. Once he had to grab her around the waist because she heard someone insult her grandmother and he was afraid she was about to leap the rail and run onto the track to give them a piece of her mind. Her elbow whipped back into his gut mercilessly and she spent the next five minutes in horrified apologies while he tried to convince his lungs to inhale again.

“You weren’t kidding about being able to take care of yourself,” he said when he felt less like he was moments away from death. 

“I am so, so sorry,” Marinette said for the fiftieth time, clutching his arm. “I’m so sorry, it was just a reflex—” 

“Stop apologizing,” Luka sighed, rubbing his abdomen. “It was my fault, I had no right to grab onto you like that and you have every right to react that way if someone touches you in a way you don’t like.” 

“But I wouldn’t have minded if I had realized, I just—I got caught up in the moment and I forgot you were with me.”

“Aw, that hurts, Marinette,” Luka said with affected sadness. “Way more than the hit.” 

“No, no, that’s not what I—here they come!” She shoved him aside and pushed against the rail, screaming and jumping up and down. 

Gina’s bright red bike was easy to spot, trapped behind two others that clearly had some kind of agreement to block her. Luka’s mouth fell open and he cheered just as loud as Marinette when Gina, apparently cool as a cucumber, nipped neatly through a space no one would have thought she could fit through and took the lead. They zipped around the curve and back out of sight again.

“Your grandma’s a badass, Marinette,” Luka grinned. “Wow.” He nudged her with his shoulder. “Guess it runs in the family.”

Marinette giggled. “Wait until you meet my mom.” Luka looked at her in surprise and her eyes got round as she stared back at him, and her mouth did too, and then she was sputtering. “I didn’t mean—not that you would want to—not like if we were—“

Luka had to laugh, he couldn’t help it. “I gotta warn you,” he said, “My standards are kind of high. My mom’s pretty badass herself.” He glanced up at the board as the racers whipped by again, Gina still in the lead. “Last lap.” 

Marinette cheered and screamed as the racers came back into view, but the crowd was going wild and she was kind of tiny. Luka glanced around and made a quick decision.

“Come stand in front of me,” he told her, guiding her into place. “Keep your back to me. Put your hands in mine...no, like this.” He gave her quick instructions and she looked back over her shoulder at him in surprise. He grinned. “Trust me. On three.” She faced forward and Luka bent his legs. “One...two...three!” 

Marinette jumped and put her weight on her arms in his hands as Luka straightened and pushed her up. She yelped in surprise at the height and the speed, but managed to get her feet on his shoulders.

Forgot about the boots, Luka thought ruefully, gripping her calves and pulling down to stabilize her. 

Marinette wasted no time screaming “THAT’S MY NONNA!” at the top of her lungs and waving her hands wildly as Gina whipped across the finish line in front of them. She pulled off her helmet and turned to wave wildly at Marinette, a huge grin on her face!

Marinette cheered again and laughed, waving back with both hands, and Luka grinned.  He squeezed Marinette’s calfs in warning, and then bent his legs and popped her up, catching her by the waist as she came down. She didn’t quite manage to come down straight and she stumbled as she landed, but Luka kept his grip on her waist until she was steady. Then she turned and hugged him. “Thanks Luka! That was amazing! I didn’t hurt you, did I?” 

Luka chuckled breathlessly and hugged her back. “Nah,” he said, and it was mostly true; the burn in his arms wasn’t her fault—though the lingering pain in his abs kinda was. “Been a while since I did that,” he said, letting her go and rolling his shoulders. “You followed my lead like a pro, though.” 

Marinette tilted her head and quirked up one shoulder, smiling up at him. “Guess being a badass runs in your family too.” She brushed some dirt off the shoulder of his navy t-shirt and her gaze followed her fingers as they ghosted along the muscle of his arm before her hand dropped.

Luka grinned, suddenly feeling no pain. “Shall we go find Gina?” he suggested, and Marinette agreed brightly. She grabbed his hand, and Luka was so gone, so totally in love with this gorgeous contradiction of a girl that he wasn’t sure his feet actually touched the ground as they wormed through the crowd.

Marinette dropped his hand to throw her arms around Gina. Luka hung back, sticking his hands in his pockets, suddenly not particularly eager to meet the older woman’s sharp eyes. 

“Well, well, my little fairy, have you found a friend?” she asked, and he wasn’t quite sure how to read the tone of her accented voice. 

“You remember Luka, from the shop?” Marinette beamed back at him, her hand curling around his arm, and Luka couldn’t help returning it, though his cheeks heated slightly. His heart was beating so hard he felt breathless, but somehow he managed to get enough air in his lungs to speak.

“Nice to see you again, ma’am,” he said to Gina. “That was an amazing race. You really earned that win.” 

“Oh, he’s a charmer, this one,” Gina laughed, though she shook the hand he offered. “Well, I can hardly complain about such sincere flattery. Thank you my dear, I am just a little proud of that one.” She put her hand on Marinette’s head. “Well, my fairy, I am positively famished. Let me pack up my gear and we’ll find a nice spot for that picnic your father packed.”

His heart dropped from his throat to his stomach, but he tried to keep up his smile. “I guess that’s my cue,” Luka said reluctantly to Marinette as Gina turned to put her things away. “I had a really great time hanging out with you, Marinette.” 

Marinette’s face fell. “You’re leaving?”

“Well, it sounds like you have plans and I don’t want to intrude—” he began, hoping to at least get her number before he had to leave.

“Oh, no, please have lunch with us,” Marinette said eagerly. “Papa always makes twice as much food as we need for everything, I’m sure there will be plenty. I mean—if you didn’t have plans. I know you probably have lots you want to see so if you’d rather not—” 

“No, I—I’d like to.” Luka reached up and ruffled the back of his hair nervously as he glanced at Gina. “But if this is your time with your grandma, I don’t want to intrude…” 

“Nonsense, dear,” Gina said, straightening and slinging her bag over her shoulder. “Marinetta is right, Tom will surely have packed more food than we need, and you are quite welcome to join us. Unless, as Marinette said, you had other plans?” There was something about her smile and the sly look she gave him that made his face heat.

“No, no plans,” he replied, barely managing not to squeak. He cleared his throat. “Um, if you ladies wouldn’t mind the walk back to the campground, there’s a picnic area over by the day parking.” He looked at Marinette. “Right where I parked, you remember? There were tables but I don’t recommend them, they’re pretty gross, but there’s a big grassy area that should have plenty of room and it’ll be quieter over there. Of course if you had something else in mind, that’s fine too, I’m flexible.”

“That sounds lovely, doesn’t it Marinetta?” Gina slung one arm around Marinette’s shoulders. “We will go have a nice picnic, and then come back and watch the afternoon races.” They stopped to drop off Gina’s bag and pick up their cooler, which Luka offered to carry, and the three of them made the walk to where Luka’s bike was parked. They were having lunch a little late, so they didn’t have any trouble finding a comfortable patch of grass to lay out a blanket. 

“You were right,” Marinette smiled at him as she opened the cooler. “It’s much quieter over here.” 

“Wow,” Luka said, staring as Marinette unpacked the food. “You weren’t kidding.”

“My Tom believes in expressing his love through food,” Gina said with amusement. “He gets that from his father. It does at least mean we have extra for new friends when we meet them.”

It was a very French meal, with several different kinds of bread and cheese, including brie and chevere that Marinette drizzled with honey, as well as fruit and other treats. 

“Wow, this is great,” Luka commented. “This is all delicious.”

“My parents run a bakery,” Marinette told him. “Best macarons in Paris. Papa made all of this himself fresh this morning.”

“Wow,” Luka repeated. “Thanks for sharing it with me. Definitely a million times better than anything I could have scrounged up around here.” 

Gina, as it turned out, was a lot of fun too. She really had travelled all over the world. Luka was no homebody himself and had been to a lot of places both with his family and alone, but Gina was on a whole other level. Her stories frequently had him in stitches, though Marinette’s rolled eyes when Gina wasn’t looking told him that their charm had long ago worn off on her. 

She listened to his stories, however, with big eyes and eager ears, and asked Luka a lot of questions which he wasn’t at all opposed to answering. 

“That’s so cool,” she sighed as he finished describing sea kayaking in the Northern Highlands of Scotland, where his mother’s family was from. “You both make me sound so boring.”

“You’re kidding me, right?” Luka said, leaning back a little so he could look up at her. He was on his side, propped on one elbow with his long legs stretched out so that his boots were off the blanket. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng, designer for rockstars, rubbing elbows with supermodels and newscasters, taking the fashion world by storm one design contest at a time?” She blushed under his soft look. “Compared to you I’m just a hippy slacker with a guitar.”

Marinette brightened and she looked back towards his bike. “Your guitar! Can you play for us? If you don’t mind...I mean it’s okay if you don’t want to—” 

“I always want to,” Luka chuckled, sitting up and grabbing a napkin to make sure his hands were clean. “I’d never stop if I had my way.” He looked at Gina, who waved him on before he could even ask, and pushed himself up to retrieve his guitar. He also brought his leather jacket back and offered it to Marinette. Some clouds had rolled in, bringing a light breeze, and she had goosebumps on her arms. She smiled gratefully at him and slipped it on and he had to keep his face turned away to hide his grin.

It was pretty close to heaven, sitting in the warm grass, comfortably full, with his guitar in his lap, playing whatever came to him. Whenever he looked up there was Marinette, with her sweet face and pretty eyes, enveloped in his jacket as she quietly cleaned up the remains of their picnic. When she finished, she moved over next to him, and without meaning to he looked up at her just at that moment, and their eyes caught and held, and he suddenly forgot what he was playing. 

“Sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Luka shook his head without looking away.

“It’s fine,” he said, hands already beginning to play a new melody, soft and warm like fresh bread and honey, but crisp on his steel strings like the fresh air. “I think I like this one better.” 

They stared at each other a moment longer and both jumped when Gina cleared her throat. Luka ripped his gaze away from Marinette and swallowed hard, glancing guiltily at Gina.

Gina studied him for a moment, and then Luka’s heart nearly stopped when she smirked at him. “I’ll be back in a little while,” she said, getting to her feet, and waved Marinette down as she started to get up. “No, no, darling, you stay with your friend, you will be bored trailing behind me talking to people you don’t know about things you aren’t interested in. You look so comfortable, just relax. I’ll catch up with you later.” 

“Are you sure, Grandma?” Marinette frowned. “You know I don’t mind what we do together.”

“I’m sure, my fairy, I want you to have a good time too. Don’t worry, I’ll be back before you know it. You won’t even miss me.” She winked over Marinette’s head at Luka. 

“That’s strange,” Marinette fretted. “Usually when she’s in town she sticks to me like glue. I hope I didn’t do anything to upset her.”

Luka chuckled through his nose, setting his guitar carefully aside on the blanket. “I don’t think that’s it.”

“You don’t think so?” Marinette sighed, still looking towards where Gina had gone. 

Luka took a deep breath and swallowed his nerves. Deceptively casually, he leaned back on his hands and nudged his shoulder against hers. “Well, I might be wrong, but I kinda think she’s figured out that I’m crazy into you and she’s doing me a solid by ditching us for a few minutes so I can ask you out.”

The sudden dump of adrenaline in his veins made the next few moments seem like they were in slow motion. God, she was beautiful, swallowed up in his jacket, her short braid flying as she whipped her head around to look at him, lips parting in surprise, cheeks rapidly turning pink, and her eyes—he could get lost in those eyes forever, and right now they were huge, the thick lashes dark against her pale skin.

Outwardly, he remained calm, but his heart was pounding, his fingers curling tight in the grass to keep his hands from visibly shaking, and his breathing was shallow.

“R-really?” Marinette whispered, and Luka dared to shift his weight and raise one hand to capture a strand of hair that kept whipping across her lips and tuck it behind her ear.

“Yeah,” he said,careful to meet her eyes. “Really, Marinette. The more I learn about you, the more I want to know. You’re amazing and I really, really like you.”

“I...I don’t know what to say,” she whispered. 

“Oh, well, there’s plenty of options,” Luka shrugged, trying to be casual. “‘I like you too, Luka.’ ‘Sorry, Luka, I don’t feel that way about you.’” He had to clear his throat to go on. “‘Wow, Luka, this is kind of unexpected, I think I need some time to process before I can really answer.’ ‘I’d rather just be friends, Luka.’ ‘Shut up and kiss me, Luka.’ Any of those, really.” He softened as he looked at her. “Whatever you want to say is fine, Marinette. I won’t get upset if it’s not the answer I’m hoping for. I just, I’ve never met anybody like you, and I’d hate myself if I didn’t take the shot.”

Marinette opened her mouth, and then closed it again, and bit her lip. “Well,” she said slowly, Luka hanging on every breath, though her dawning smile made his heart gallop even faster. “It’s definitely not the second one. The third one is c-close, maybe,” she looked down at her hands in her lap, where she was playing with her fingers nervously. “But...I think I’m going to go with the first one.” 

“It’s a good one,” Luka said, voice shaky with sudden giddiness. He tried to steady as it went on. “My second favorite option, I’d say.” 

Marinette gave him that blinding smile, like the sun bursting out from the clouds. “Shut up and kiss me, Luka.” 

“Yes ma’am,” he breathed eagerly, leaning forward without hesitation to cup her cheek and turn her face so he could kiss her pretty lips. It was only supposed to be gentle and tender and befitting a first kiss, but Marinette grabbed his shirt and kissed him back, harder and deeper, and he was sure his soul departed his body in the moan that he let out. His senses were overwhelmed; the smell of leather and grass, the lingering taste of honey, the roar of the engines in the distance, her fingers brushing over his jaw and down his neck, and the warm, electric feel of her mouth moving against his as they kissed and kissed again. 

He felt downright drunk when she finally let him go. “I’ve maybe wanted to do that for a while,” she said with a mischievous, if slightly embarrassed, smile. The admission and the sight of her reddened lips did absolutely nothing to help his composure. Marinette’s brow creased as she looked at his dazed expression. “Luka?” 

Luka lifted one finger and laid back dizzily onto the grass, staring up into the sky as a completely idiotic grin spread over his face. 

Marinette’s face appeared over him, framed by the collar of his jacket as her shoulders hunched up, and the grin only got wider. “Are you all right?” she asked.

“Nope,” he sighed. “I must be dead, because I just kissed an angel.” 

Marinette’s face washed over with color, sweeping the worried look from her face. “I don’t think angels wear leather,” she giggled. Something else seemed to occur to her and her eyes twinkled down at him. “But maybe fairies do.”  

Luka chuckled. “When bards fall in love with Scottish fairies it never ends well.” 

Marinette’s mischievous smile sent a thrill through his entire body. “It’s a good thing I’m French then, isn’t it.” 

“I’m enchanted, that’s for sure.” Luka gazed up at her. “You’re so beautiful, Marinette.” 

Why that particular compliment startled her so, he couldn’t say, but her face disappeared from his view as she shot upright, turning red. 

“What?” Luka asked, chuckling, as he rolled up onto his elbow. 

“You can’t just say things like that!”

“Why not?” he laughed. “I’ve been thinking it since we met.” He reached over and slipped his hand over Marinette’s, brushing her fingers lightly with his until she let him lift it and tangle their fingers together.

“I’ve always thought you were pretty,” he told her, in a conspiratorial whisper that had her unconsciously leaning towards him. “But I have to say you look really good in leather. Especially my leather.” 

Marinette made an inarticulate noise in her throat, looking at him wide-eyed and blushing so hard it was a wonder she hadn’t passed out. Luka grinned. “And you’re so talented,” he told her. “You’d think I was a stalker if you knew how much time I spent looking through your Instagram feed.” She made another squeak and he could actually see her pulse fluttering in her neck. “And sweet,” he added, inching a little closer. “At least half those things you made were for other people.” 

She was totally speechless now, so overwhelmed Luka put his fingers on her cheek and murmured “Breathe, Marinette.” 

Marinette drew in a great gulp of air. “How can you say all those things,” she huffed as Luka straightened up and faced her more fully. 

“I told you, didn’t I?” Luka grinned, fingers sliding around to the back of her neck, eyes fixed on her lips. “I’m crazy into you.” Marinette smiled and Luka leaned forward. 

Suddenly something stiff whacked the top of his head. Luka ducked away and lifted a hand to shield himself. 

“None of that now,” Gina declared. “At least not until you’ve taken my Marinetta on a proper date.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Luka said, sitting up straight quickly. “I absolutely will do that.” 

“Grandma!” Marinette scowled, snatching the rolled-up motorcycle magazine out of Gina’s hand. “I can kiss him if I want to!” To prove the point, she tossed the magazine aside, grabbed Luka’s face, pulled it to her own, and kissed him firmly. He couldn’t have stopped himself from melting into her if his life depended on it, one hand coming up to grip her shoulder automatically. 

Standing over them, Gina made an amused noise and folded her arms.

Marinette looked a little bit embarrassed when she released him, but her smile returned at the dazed look he gave her. “Will you, um,” he cleared his throat. “Will you go out with me? I don’t work on Wednesdays, we could do dinner and a movie?” 

Marinette giggled. “I’d love to.”

Luka looked up at Gina, who shrugged, clearly finding the whole thing funny. “Good enough, I suppose. But you will treat my fairy right, or you will deal with Nonna Gina.” 

“Don’t worry,” Luka said breathlessly, a smile spreading over his face as he gazed at Marinette. “No way am I ever going to want to break this spell.”

The rest of the day felt like a pleasant dream, his fingers tangled with Marinette’s, full of little touches, quiet laughter, and light, quick kisses—in between screaming trash talk at the races, which he still found incredibly funny. It was even funnier when Gina joined them, screaming in a garbled mix of Italian and French that had him nearly doubled over laughing. She grinned and ruffled his hair and scolded him half-heartedly. 

Finally Luka looked reluctantly up at the nearly-setting sun. “I should go,” he sighed. Gina and Marinette were staying overnight for another set of races the following day, but Luka had only planned on a day trip. “If I leave soon I won’t have to make the whole trip in the dark.”

Marinette sighed and wrapped her hands around his arm, leaning her head on his shoulder. “I’ll walk you back.”

They strolled slowly back to where he was parked, taking their time. Luka perched on the edge of the motorcycle’s seat, and reached for Marinette’s hands. She let him take them and draw her closer so that she was standing between his legs. “I had a great time with you today,” he said, rubbing his thumbs over her hands. “I’m really, really looking forward to seeing you again.”

“Me too,” she said, smiling. “To both.” 

“Now that I’m allowed to say it,” he murmured, running his eyes along the line of her shoulder and up her neck, where he’d been longing to run his lips all afternoon, “I want to make sure I tell you that you look super hot today.” 

Marinette blushed, but looked pleased. “Yeah?”

“Hell yeah,” Luka sighed, chuckling softly. “Can I kiss you one last time?”

“One last time?” she asked, eyes twinkling above her fake pout.

“Last time today,” Luka corrected with a grin. “All bets are off when I pick you up on Wednesday.”  

Marinette giggled. “Shut up and kiss me, Luka.” 

He took her face gently in his hands and kissed her, brushing his thumbs over her cheeks, then sliding his hands down to her neck so his thumbs slid along her jaw. He felt her shudder and kissed her deeper, tilting her head back. Her fingers unhooked from where they were clinging to his shirt and slid up his neck and into his hair and she pressed closer, lips parting under his in an invitation he was not about to refuse. He finally pulled back slowly and more than a little reluctantly, giving into the temptation to suck lightly on her criminally plump, soft bottom lip for just an instant before letting it slide from between his lips and opening his eyes. To his satisfaction, when her eyes fluttered open she was looking up at him with the same kind of dazed look he’d given her earlier, her mouth so irresistibly reddened that he laid one more soft kiss on her lips before nuzzling her temple, waiting for her to find the ground again. 

When she did she turned her face into his cheek and put her arms around his neck, making a small whine. Luka chuckled, sliding his hands across her back and hugging her tightly to him. 

“Hey,” she said against his neck. “One more selfie before you have to go?” 

Luka grinned, nuzzling her forehead. “Sure.” 

***

“I didn’t know Marinette had a boyfriend,” Adrien commented. 

Alya nearly spit her drink across the table. “What?” 

Adrien turned his phone towards her to show her his instagram feed and Alya and Nino both gaped. Sure enough there was Marinette with a dark-haired boy with blue tips and a leather jacket. He had his arm around Marinette’s waist and she was draped over his side—wait was she sitting on his knee?—and beaming at the camera. The guy’s smile was softer but just as happy and he was leaning his head against Marinette’s. The sky behind them was streaked with sunset colors. Alya opened her mouth to deny it but Adrien swiped his thumb to show them the next picture, in which the mystery man was kissing a shy, blushing, but obviously happy Marinette on the cheek. The caption only said Fairy tales do come true. 

“Wait a minute,” Alya said, grabbing her own phone and swiping furiously. “Isn’t that—yes! It’s the hottie from the motorcycle shop!” She turned another picture towards them from the previous weekend, where Marinette next to (though not nearly so close) the same guy, this time wearing a black t-shirt with a shop logo on it. “Marinette’s been hanging out at motorcycle racing and making out with a bad boy all day!”

“Oh, come on, I doubt she was making out with him.” Adrien rolled his eyes. 

Alya now had the picture open on her phone and she looked up at Adrien from it with her eyebrows raised.

“Adrien trust me, that is a girl who has been very recently smooched.” 

Adrien frowned, looking back at the picture. “Really? How can you tell? I mean she looks happy, but she could just be having fun.”

“Oh my God, you’re so dense,” Alya groaned. “Nino, what the hell, educate your boy.”

“Ah, nope, sorry. He can learn about makeout face from someone else.” He leaned over to look at Alya’s phone. “Hey, I think I know him,” Nino frowned, leaning closer. “He plays in one of the bands that do the club rounds.” 

“Is he a player?” Alya demanded immediately, narrowing her eyes. 

Nino shrugged. “Dunno. If he is, he’s not as blatant about it as some of the other guys.” 

“That shade of lipstick really suits her,” Adrien commented. “I’ve never seen her wear it before.” 

Alya groaned and dropped her head into her arms on the table. “You’re impossible,” came the muffled mutter as Nino patted her back sympathetically.

[angelwars11]

PART 1

*finally gets my siblings up and we all sit down on the bed* Alright y'all, time to watch this shit. Let's get itttt!!

*new ominous pre-intro comes in* "A LUCASFILM LIMITED production. "

Me: Oh, we starting like this. Wtf!! Okay, dude, I have goosebumps. Holy shit. *Calming facade is down. Is totally unaware and unprepared for what's coming*

*fanfare jumpscare*

Me: *startles* *grabs my heart*

Heart monitor: *beep beep beep, beeeeeeeeeeep~*

Me: OH MY GOD!!! *cough violently like Grevious* Holy shit. The fanfare, holy shit. I'mma—*notices red logo* *starts to hyperventilate*

*Another very different and new red title* "Part 1. Olds Friends Not Forgotten. "

Me: *gasps sharply* THAT IS SO COOL!!! I'mma cryyy *sniffles*

Yularen: *comes in clutch with the narrator recap*

Me: Yoooo!! What's up my dude?!

*see Grevious* Damn, I mean, General Grevious lookin good though. You see that animation! DAMN! Best design ever!

Yularen: "Republic forces are pushed to the brink. In response to this overwhelming attack. The Jedi Council had dispatched it's Generals far from the Core Worlds. "

CALEB DUME aka. KANAN JARRUS!! Ahhh!! Look at my son!

*sees Plo Koon in his Delta 7 inteceptor* "Ummm, no, stop it. Stop. That looks familiar. *shakes head violently* No. Be quiet.

*sees Aayla and Bly* *inhales sharply* *chokes on saliva* "Aayla Secura is where? OH SHIT. Is that Felucia?! NO, FUCK. "

(The clone troopers look so fucking amazing. Their armor is heavily detailed with the amount of scratches and dents covering them. It makes their armor look rough. OMG! This is literally 'nose bleed heaven' I am in right now!!)

Me: *dances* They onn a bridgeee, they on a—HOLY SHIT!! That's a big ass cannon," *watches the cannon blast fire upwards* Ohhhhh~ That's, uh, not good! Oh shit!! AH! Cody DODGE NOW!!!

*stares at the tv* Holy. Sh—

*light saber unleashed*

Me: OOhhh!! Who the fu—ACK! Obi-Wan coming out of the CUT alllll BEAUTIFUL!!!

LOOK at the lightsaber light pouring through the dust cloud surrounding him🤩 *blood pours out of my nose* His magnificent graying beard, so beautiful. I LOVE how there's a limp piece of hair bouncing on the side of his head, it's so satisfying. And the way he slowly looks over his shoulder at Cody like: "Must protect my husband!" OMG, I love them so much, CodyWan forever!!! Bless Dave Filoni for giving us that scene because, it was beautiful😍 God, the animation. 😍I'mma—😵😳

Cody: "General?!"

Me: MmmmmHmmmm. *wiggles eyebrows*

Obi-Wan: "Cody, get down!"

Me: Protect Cody!! Holy fu—Cody, stop staring at Obi-Wan and take cover, yes I know he's hot as fuck, my sister thinks so too, so do I—That's NOT the point. Just GET your ASS DOWN!! You can stare at him all you want later.

Obi-Wan: "Anakin, where are you?"

Anakin: *jump scares* "I'm right here. "

Me: ⬇⬇

Me: I SWEARRRR. You are so lucky I don't have a gun because I would've BLASTED you to the other side of this GODDAMN BRIDGE. The fuck is wrong with you, you lucky mother fucker.

Anakin: "What are you doing down there. "

Me: 🤣🤡 Shut the fuck up!

Anakin: *dodges a fucking blaster beam* I'm dea—🤣 ANAKIN. You cray cray!

*all shots miss Anakin while he stands right there in plain sight on top of MOTHER FUCKING debris*

Me: Hehhehehheeee—OH my GoD!! Anakin!! Get DOWN FROM THEREeEe. They gonna shoot you, bro!

Obi-Wan: "What are you up to? Where is Captain Rex?"

Me: Yeah, what are you up to? *suspicious*

*Nobody stays seated while Anakin walks straight at the enemy. Managing not to get fucking smacked*

Me: "Y'all DUMB ASS droids can't SHOOT!! Ohhhhhh myyyy goddddd!!" 🤣🤣

Anakin: "I have come to surrender. Your forces fought valiantly. I must admit we are overmatched by your superior fire power. " Me: "Tell me y'all ain't gonna fall for this. If you beli—"

Me: *inhales sharply*

Dumb and Dumber: "Surrender. That's a relief. Notify the tactical droid. "

Me: ⬇⬇

*sighs heavily* They believed him. 💀

*scope shows up* The fuck?! Oh, is that Rexy Boi™ *gasps* R2!!!

Rex telling his squad they have to wait a little longer to hang upside down on the bridge. They all *groan* "Sir, yes, sir. "

ME: 😆 They want to fly so fucking badly!!

OoooWe!! They've got JET PACKS!!! Oooo, we bougie MOTHER FUCKAASSSSS!!! *dances to the epic music*

*nobody stays seated while the Clone Troopers kick ass*

Obi-Wan: "Bravo Anakin, you've done it again. "

Me: 🥺🥺

Anakin: "Oh, I can't take all the credit. You staying back really sold my surrender talk. " *Obi-Wan smiles*

Obi-Wan: "Always glad to help my friend. " *they smile at each other*

Also me: *cries internally* 😭😍

Anakin: "Skywalker here, what is it Admiral?" Me: *gasps* Admiral: "Sir. We received a transmission from someone using a subspace frequency. Fulcrum. "

Me: *stops breathing* FULCRUM. 💀 Ah—Ah—AhCHOO! *wheezes* Oooh, bless me.

*the transmitter room scene from the trailer* Me: *screeches* Anakin: "Alright, Admiral. What's so important you brought us all the... Way... Back...here." *sees Ahsoka*

(*PAUSE* I noticed that Rex is not here in this SCENE!! Woahhh~ Just wanted to point that out! Okay, sorry, *unpause*)

Ahsoka: *turns around* "Hello Master. It's been a while. " Me: 😍😍😍😍😍

Anakin: "Ah—Ahsoka. Wha— *scoffs*I don't believe it, " *voice goes two octaves higher* "How are you? Where are you?" *voice softens to be protective* "Are you okay?"

My heart: ⬇⬇

(SKIP)

*Mandalorian ship comes in* Me: *tears coming down my face*

Aaaahhhh!!! R2 D2 rolled up to Ahsoka to say hi!! OMG, cutie pie!!😍🥺 My heartttttt😭

Anakin tries to say Hi to Ahsoka but she's just like, "Can't do that right now. " Me: *snaps my own neck* Damn. Heyo!! He's literally hanging by a THREAD, a measly THREAD over the fucking pool called the DARK SIDE. And you treating him like that, focusing on the war and not a hug, mannn, Anakin is about to take a 'dippity dip' in this goddamn pool. Smh.

Bo-Katan: "He murdered their ruler. My sister. I thought she meant something to you. "

Me: *visibly sees Obi-Wan look sad* Satineeeee😭😭😭 No, Obi-Wan, it's okay!!

(SKIP)

*when the troopers pass by and salute to Ahsoka* Me: UwU

REX'S SMILE 👑 when she walks in😍 "Glad to have you back, Commander. " *smiles again* 👑 "Rex. Thank you. But you don't have to call me Commander anymore. " "Sure thing, Commander." *smiles AGAIN* 👑

Me: 😭😭 Rex, I SWEAR TO GOD, if you don't stop SMITING me with those SMILES BRO. Just chill. Please. Do it again and I'—

*alarm goes off* God fucking dammit. *sees the troopers scrambling in the background* HAHAHHAHHA😆😆🤣

*stops laughing* Who's in trouble? The Chancellor. Hahahaha, who's that? Ohhh, you mean Buttcheeksakin. Yeahhh~🤣 Nobody cares!!

Ahsoka: "I understand, that it's your usual playing politics. This is why the people have lost faith in the Jedi. I had too. Until I was reminded of what the order means to people who truly need us. "

Obi-Wan: "Right now people on Coruscant need us. "

Ahsoka: "No, the Chancellor needs you. "

Me: *nose bleed* "Damnnnn, say it again for the people in the back!!! Ughh, feisty Ahsoka is sexy. " 😍

REX GETTING WHAAA, PROMOTED?! I knew this day was coming for sooo long *sniffles* I'm so proud.

*music heightens it's pitch* HER LIGHTSABERS😭😭😭

Ahsokaaaa got her lightsabers BACK!! Looking snazzyyyy, looking beautiful, you look hot honey! And a BONUS, they are BLUE!! Hot DAMN!! 💙💙

Ahsoka: "Anakin... " *Anakin turns around* "Good luck. " *Anakin smiles with pride*

Me: *ugly sobs*

*Nobody stays seated while, 'Love pledge' plays in the background*

Me: *cries harder* WHYYYY😭😭😭

'Commander' REX. Whereeee areee youuu?! Ah, there you darling. Beautiful bby boyyyy, you deserve it!!! 😍😍😍

*spots someone behind Rex* Who Issss...?? Oh, JESSE!! Heyyy~ *waves* ( ͡ ͜ʖ ͡ )

Rex: "Sorry, I didn't think to bring you a jetpack?" Ahsoka: "Don't need one. " *Nobody will ever fucking stay seated while Rex gives the mother of all amused smirks* 👑

(THIS beautiful smirk⬆ I know I WILL be watching 60 more times after I finish this goddamn episode 🥵)

PART 2 of my reaction coming soon!! (Nah, I'm serious, it'll be here. Just hold your horses!)

Link to part 2!! ⬇

[lxvesickreality]

what was needed

Request: angsty natasha romanoff x reader, reader cant breathe and passes out -anon

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warnings: angst, very little swearing and bad writing

Word Count: 1733

gif is NOT mine, full credit to owners

The last thing Natasha could remember was her last conversation. She were fighting about Y/N putting herself in danger at the most recent mission. Natasha and Y/N haven’t spoken since the fight and it was starting to get to Natasha. She was never one to show any emotion but since Y/N joined the team, She developed some type of feelings for them. Natasha would push it aside trying to brush it off because this couldn’t happen, it can’t happen. But alas, it did. The feelings grew into love. With Y/N not talking to her and the team giving her the cold shoulder with the words that rolled of Natasha’s tongue, She felt utterly alone. The fight was only an attempt to protect them, She couldn’t risk her safety. It was to keep them alive. That’s what Natasha told herself to believe but the words that She said to Y/N was unfair and uncalled for. It made Y/N run off with tears rimming her eyes and the team give her disappointing looks. Natasha wanted to make it right with them, She needed to. The cold shoulders everyone was giving her was enough to send her over board. 

Lost in her thoughts, She almost didn’t realize the loud alarm blaring in the building the team stays in and it was enough to make Natasha shoot into action. Grabbing her Glock 26 off her side table, She threw open her door and started jogging to the elevator. Tony was in front of it, panting from the run he did. 

“Where was the alarm set off?” Natasha asked, her eyebrows furrowing in concern.

Tony’s head snapped to the side to look at Natasha, “The roof. F.R.I.D.A.Y. was hacked into and wouldn’t respond to was on the roof.” 

The two headed to the staircase after deciding the elevator might not be safe since Tony’s AI was hacked into and the run seemed like it was taking up too many minutes but with her speed, it was only 30 seconds by the time She reached the doors to the roof. Tony stayed behind Natasha as She slowly slides the door open just enough to take a peek at what was outside. The sky was almost pitch black, there were no stars out and the lights on the roof weren’t on but She could faintly see the beautiful color of Y/N hair and the favorite pair of jeans Natasha likes on her that shows off her curves perfectly. She whispered to Tony who it was that set off the alarm but he was gone. She guessed it was to get his suit and She focused on the hands that were wrapped around Y/N’s waist. In the pit of her stomach, She felt the anger and jealousy but the hands looked too familiar. She had black gloves on with a symbol. She inched closer to get a better look at the symbol on the gloves and her eyes went wide. It was HYDRA’s symbol. 

“Shit,” Natasha cursed under her breath. Cocking her gun, She slid open the door some more and aimed for the head of the agent. His hands were now on Y/N’s neck seemed to be choking her but it didn’t look like he was applying enough pressure to kill her. He wanted something.The agent’s head was positioned to look at her when She got the aim right where she wanted, in between the eyes. Y/N’s face was red and her rosy cheeks were stained from the tears that continued to fall down. The look on her face was devastating, she was terrified to lose her life and Natasha felt responsible for it. She had left them alone with the thought of what Natasha did and told them. 

“You could’ve gotten yourself killed, Y/N!” Natasha yelled as the team strode off the Quinjet from the mission located in New Jersey. Y/N was about to take a bullet to her chest when She took a risk and ran into the computer room where the data She needed to retrieve as a part of her mission. The team had a plan she talked through on the way here and everyone was told to follow through no matter what the result would be. Y/N, on the other hand, didn’t listen. With the team fighting the HYDRA agents, She took the chance to get the data by herself but didn’t think of the consequences that would cause the team to have. 

“But I didn’t! I’m still standing here, Natasha. I’m fine and I’m alive. I got what we needed.” 

“You didn’t use your head! You left Clint alone, Y/N. He got severely injured because you left!” Y/N rolled her eyes at Natasha and attempted to walk away from her and the situation. Of course Y/N felt terrible for leaving Clint alone, who wouldn’t? The data was important to S.H.I.E.L.D. that regarded information of them and Y/N did what anybody else would do. “Don’t you dare walk away from me!”

“Or what, Romanoff?” Y/N spun around on her heel. “Or freaking what? You’ll tell Steve to get me kicked off the team? You’ll tell Fury to get me kicked out completely and on my own? Oh, that’s right, you can’t! I did what any sane person would do.”

Natasha felt her blood boiling, the amount of anger She had was enough for her to burst. She grabbed a hold of her weapon and aimed it directly next to Y/N then shot the bullet. Y/N instantly went quiet and stood stiffly while the team was staring at Natasha in complete shock upon this startling action that caused S.H.I.E.L.D. agents to turn her heads. “That’s what would’ve happened except She could’ve killed you with that one single bullet. You were so dumb to do go do that by yourself. You should’ve stuck to the plan.” 

“Ah, Natasha Romanoff, what a pleasure.” 

“Shut it. Give me them now.” Natasha was fully out of the door, standing directly in front of the agent with her gun still at the same place and She was ready to do whatever was necessary to get Y/N back into her arms safely. Y/N was sobbing and She was wheezing. His pressure on her neck was slowly getting tighter. It was beginning to cut off her circulation to her brain leaving only a tolerable amount of oxygen to keep her alive. “What do you want?”

“I want the data this one took from us. That held a lot of information, very important information and if I don’t get it back, this one dies.” he confessed.

Natasha hesitated. She can’t hand over the data files, the team handed it over to Fury as soon as She were back from the mission. She needed time to get it, She needed a plan to steal it from Fury without him noticing it gone. “We don’t have it. We gave it to the rightful owners. It didn’t belong to you.” 

“I want the data back now.”

“I just told you I don’t have it!” 

“I wish it didn’t come down to this but oh well, I guess you get to watch this one suffocate.” a mist came out from under his black leather jacket and was clouding over Y/N. Suddenly and out of nowhere, Natasha was grabbed from behind leaving her helpless and defenseless as one of them threw her Glock over the side of the roof. Y/N was coughing, letting out small screams as the mysterious mist was substituting the oxygen that was needed for a human to live. The agent stalked off to the elevator with one last look at Natasha before the doors closed leaving everyone else stuck up here. Where was the team? Natasha thought to herself. She struggled in her hold, four guys surrounding her and was pinning every limb She had. She knew what She was capable of, all the skills She was taught earlier in life that could lead to her death. 

Y/N was gasping for air as the mist traveled to her lungs. her vision was blurry, She couldn’t see anything but pitch black that was speckled with stars. She couldn’t speak anymore, no noise came out of her mouth while her body dropped down to the ground and she let the darkness take over.

“No!” 

~

Y/N stirred under the rough blanket she was put under mentally complaining about the itchiness the blanket was giving her. A cold hand rested on hers sending chills down her spine along with a small jolt of electricity that shifted through her entire body starting with the top of her head to the tips of her toes. She knew who it was just by the softness in the palm and the faint smell of her favorite perfume; pomegranate and vanilla. The corners of Y/N’s mouth flicked upwards in an attempt to smile while her E/C eyes adjusted to the light after she let up her eyelids. Natasha’s head was next to her thigh, slightly snoring in her sleep but Y/N couldn’t see her face as her red curly hair covered it. Taking the other hand that was not occupied by Natasha’s, she glided it over the redhead’s face pushing the hair away to admire her beauty. Natasha moved a little and her snoring stopped abruptly. 

“Natasha,” Natasha sprung into action, instinctively reaching for her weapon but it was not there and nevertheless, nobody was around besides Y/N who was awake. “Y/N, you’re awake.” a smile spread upon Natasha’s lips as she rushed forward to embrace Y/N. A group of butterflies was let out of their cage in Y/N’s stomach as she settled in Natasha’s warm hold she had on her. Natasha sat up, only centimeters away from Y/N’s face and without warning, her lips were suddenly on hers. Their lips molded together perfectly. They were meant to lay upon each other. The feeling it gave Y/N was so terrifyingly, so undeniably pleasurable. 

Y/N was okay and it set Natasha at ease knowing she was alive. She can apologize later for the fight but for now, this is what needed to happen. 

[hornsandthings]

vices i admire;

pairing: barry berkman x reader

summary: reader accidentally finds barry’s stash of weapons, and barry is forced to come clean. 

tags: fluff, angst // word count: 2.3k 

a soft muttering woke you, the low grumbles and frustrated huffs stirring your hair.

           “he don’t bolt—put a bolt into—to a nut; he don’t bolt a nut—fuck—”

           lazy and lethargic, you nuzzled closer to barry’s neck as your hand came to rest on his chest. he was much warmer than the light comforter, and holding him close at night was the only way to keep the chill at bay. he responded just as languidly, arm curling around your waist tighter. you knew, however, that this was due to distraction, not fatigue.

           “runnin’ lines?” you mumbled into his skin, voice thick and heavy with sleep. it was nice to wake up with barry, to have him close like this. he had always been a very nice and generous man, but often you thought he was somewhat unknowable, too. at times when he thought you were asleep, you saw how hard his mind worked, those thick brows betraying a deep frown. barry was approachable, but seldom open.

           “—then you get yourself a couple of shots—spots, goddamn it; spots on your hat—”

           a smile pulled at your mouth, a giggle trapped in your throat. you could only imagine barry’s expression – flat on his back, glaring at the ceiling, looking harsh while he accommodated your nuzzling with soft touches.

           “barry,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to his clavicle. you had to blink the sleep away, but there he was, looking down at you.

            “—a salesman is got to dream?” he finished, eyes saying how did you sleep? while his words ended that speech. you laughed, cupping his jaw as you pulled him in for a kiss. it was easy and gentle, but you could still feel the soft intensity he managed to place behind it. again and again did he mould his lips to yours, carefully nudging you so that he was hovering above now, cradling your cheek in a way that always hinted at caution.

           shuffling steps in the next room, a heavy sigh that dragged in a way only a performer could manage. “barry!” someone called, “you forgot the milk! goddammit, man, you know it’s just an aisle away from the gatorade—”

            barry deflated, mouth already working up an annoyed mumble but you kissed the tip of his nose, warding away the whispered “fuck!” that was on the tip of his tongue. you jumped as the roommate pounded on the door, offering up another weary sigh.

           “please, man. breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”

           “your cereal is eighty percent sugar. you know that, right?” he retorted back while still looking at you, eyes flickering to your grin. you bit your lip during the pause, trying to smother your laugh. barry only looked put out.

           the doorknob turned, letting out a tell-tell squeak and now barry jolted. “fine, fine!” he quickly shouted, hurriedly pulling the covers up to his shoulders as you gripped him closer like a shield. your briefly eyed the nearest article of clothing – in the corner, a few feet away – and burst into a big belly laugh at barry’s alarmed face, quite comical with those expressive brows as he swallowed thickly.

           he grumbled a little, disentangling himself from you between quick, chaste kisses. “i’m sorry,” he sighed, shaking his head as he shrugged on a hoodie, fumbled with a pair of pants. “i’ll be back soon, alright? thirty minutes.”

           “no worries, baby,” you mused, wrapping the comforter all around you as he left. daylight crept in beneath the blinds, and you allowed yourself to just sit a while, taking in barry’s room. there was little to indicate he’d been a marine, most of it packed away into a box stored in the closet. instead, things that told of his aspirations to acting dotted the room: gene’s book on the bedside table, a pile of old scripts in the corner, spare props peeking out from beneath the bed. you’d only seen him perform onstage twice so far; while his delivery couldn’t quite communicate the amount of effort he always put into it, you supported his desires wholeheartedly.

            this thing with barry – it was only a few months old, but the dedication throughout had felt pure and strong. the care between you two was genuine, and there was more than just simple attraction; the way he touched you, held you – it was laced with adoration. huffing a chuckle, you stepped out of the bed and wriggled into your underthings. muffled sounds from the television filtered through the door as you searched for your socks, tuned to some morning soap.

           this – you wouldn’t mind a life like this. to spend the nights with barry, wake up in his arms, coming to also know his lines from the sheer amount of times he went over them; to become part of his life in a way that meant more mornings like this. perhaps you two weren’t quite there yet, but sometimes – just from the way this particular happiness felt – you could tell that you, at least, were close.

           resolving to tidy up, you reached for the comforter to disentangle the knot you’d made of it. the material snagged, and with a frown you tried pulling to no avail. kneeling at the foot of the bed, you realised it had caught in the mattress’ zipper. jerking the quilt hard, it finally ripped free, tugging the zip right open with it.

           your heart stopped, skin crawling as goosebumps developed. with a trembling hand, you uncovered the array of firearms so expertly displayed within the mattress fibre. there were pistols, barrels, bullets and silencers; black, menacing things with an express purpose. to hurt. to kill.

           the door swung open and barry jerked to a halt, mimicking you as he went very still. those wide eyes and thick brows were no longer comical or endearing; no, they were alarming, frightening, intimidating. right now, he was a stranger.

           “i—i didn’t mean to—,” you stuttered, throat closing and jaw hurting as fear began its slow asphyxiation. barry was breathing just as hard as you, horroron his face as that stash of guns glinted dully in the space between.

           “listen, i—”

           a shout of laughter rang from the kitchen, and barry’s jaw clenched as your gaze flickered to the door behind him. both reminded of the presence of other people – help for you, trouble for him – barry moved slow, nudging the door closed.

           “listen,” he said again, low and deliberate, “i can explain.”

           you scrambled back as he stepped forward, sliding until your back hit the wall. a soft whimper fell from your mouth as he continued to near, but as soon as the sound hit him, he lowered to his knee a few feet away.

           “after afghanistan—i didn’t have anything else to be good at,” he started, desperation replacing the alarm on his face. “someone took advantage of that. i—i had to do things…”

           barry’s breath hitched in a way that forewarned tears, and your own eyes stung.

           “i tried—i’m trying—to get out of it, but i’m in so deep, sweetheart, it just won’t—fuck!”

           he gasped for breath, shaking his head as if trying to straighten his thoughts. you were shivering, reading the subtext that was simply terrifying. incomprehensible. those odd hours when he’d show up at your door, distraught and in need of comfort; he’d always blamed it on his acting process, the result of getting into character, but now – now you knew better. you couldn’t even look at him anymore, those red and tearful eyes just too much.

           “i know it’s wrong. i know. it’s not who i am—not anymore. i realised it when i came to LA, but i knew it before. deep down. but—but i’m good at it, and they won’t just let me be—”

           “barry,” you pleaded, “barry—”

           “please, please believe me,” he begged, even clasping his hands together. nausea roiled in your gut, mind sticky as reality slurred. barry – this… this man – was frantic; instability and guns didn’t make for a good combination. “i can’t let it happen again—i need you to just figure this out with me, alright? please.”

           “i w-won’t tell a-anyone,” you rushed, thoughts racing. you wanted to believe him – god, you’d wanted to love him – but this… this was horrifying. “i promise, just—please don’t h-hurt me.” you were curled into yourself, knees and hands drawn up to your chest.

           barry flinched in disbelief. “i won’t ever hurt you,” he promised, no fumbling to be heard; it was clear despite the dishevelment that threatened to undo him. barry’s distress tugged at your heart, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to that line yet. your eyes drifted to those weapons again, torn between sympathy and repulsion. barry winced, covering up the flap as he risked moving closer.

           “the war is over, barry,” you whispered. a sad, simple truth laid bare, barely making its way to him. you should’ve known that such integration after serving was too good and too soon; a life without violence may not ever be enough for him.

           barry’s voice failed, giving a mournful nod instead. “i’m sorry,” he said, voice filled with unadulterated sorrow for himself, for you, for what had happened, for everything. “i’m so sorry.”

           it was quiet for a time. he was crying softly in front of you while you just stared at the door beyond him, shutting down breath by breath. eventually barry realised, moving away.

           “i’m not holding you hostage,” he murmured, a hollowness to his voice that sent a dull spike of fear within you. “you can… you can go,” he said, jaw feathering as he probably weighed the consequences.

           nodding mutely, you grabbed your jeans and the first shirt you found, not even noticing that it was actually barry’s. breathing deep, you eyed him as prey would eye a predator; wary, distrustful, afraid. he slouched, seeming to fold into himself as he allowed you a wide berth.

           and so you left, putting one step in front of the other and keeping your head down, pulse still thundering in your ears. his roommates greeted you but all you heard was a series of discordant sounds, including your own vague reply before the apartment door shut behind you.

+++

two weeks. it had been two weeks of no contact, and barry had barrelled through the days thinking his world was imploding again. he tried to keep up a sense of normalcy by going to work, to acting class, to the grocery store, to the bar with his friends. routine. routine was all that could save him now.

           he’d wanted to be selfish, to keep you there until he was sure you wouldn’t eventually resort to the police, but unfriendly memories had come unbidden – of chris, of janice. he couldn’t fuck up this one – it was you, goddammit, he couldn’t even think of laying a hand on you. so he had let you go with the shred of hope that you’d see the truth of barry berkman. there were times he’d wanted to come and visit you, but he couldn’t risk scaring you even further. god, just the look on your face, the tremble to your lip – it sickened him to know that he was the cause of it. you’d been cowering from him, so vulnerable and exposed; caught in a twisted caricature of more intimate scenes you two would share. he hated himself for it. every time he loaded another shot, he could taste the spilled blood in his mouth, see the betrayal in your eyes. even now, as he watched some movie trying to be mindless for just one hour, the guilt nagged at the back of his mind.

           a knock on the door. looking around, he met the raised brows of his roommates and acquiesced. with a sigh, he trudged over, expecting another lost missionary—

           but it was you.

           it was you, eyes bruised and face gaunt with the knowledge that had troubled you for days. his fingers twitched with the urge to reach out, but he stepped into the corridor instead, shutting the door behind him.

            “what—,” he croaked, voice breaking. “you—”

           you let out a shuddering breath, and barry shifted on his feet as he saw tears glistening in your eyes. “i believe you, barry.” it was a low, breathy sentence, drenched in dread and regret. it seemed like you were going to say something more, but you just shook your head.

           despite this, barry’s heart lifted in a desperate sense of relief. a hitched, breathy laugh fell from his mouth. it was instinct to reach for you, and although you tensed, you fell into his embrace with a muffled sob, hands fisted in his shirt. barry swallowed his own tears, holding you close, pressing his lips to your forehead.

           “you’re important to me,” he confessed. “you’re part of this good life – the one that i want, the one with happiness and love – and i don’t wanna give it up. i promise i’m not a monster… i, uh, don’t think i am? i—i don’t wanna be.”

           with a sharp inhale, you looked up at him as you cupped his jaw. your brows were furrowed, corners of your mouth turned down, but you were holding him. you were here.

           “i don’t know where we go from here,” you admitted, “but i care for you, barry. i want you to be okay.”

           he nodded, face crumpling as he did so. hands cradling your neck, barry kissed you with all the longing he had in him, all the yearning and pining for things that were always so close to slipping from his hold.

           starting now, he told himself. the mantra that always failed him, but the one that he tried – always tried – to live by. perhaps this time.

           starting… now.

[mithranqueersmusings]

Baby, You’re A Rich Man VI

Chapter: 6/28

Rating: T (Violence warning)

Summary: Ringo could never understand why that group of three boys made him feel so uncomfortable, or why the way George looked at him sent him into a panic. After a chance encounter Ringo discovers the truth and has no clue what to do with the information.

Tags: AU - Gangsters, Slow Burn, Smut, Eventual Romance, Violence, Angst

Pairings: George Harrison/Ringo Starr, John Lennon/Paul McCartney

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

The heavy sound of thumping against the front door echoed through the flat loudly and George immediately shot up, being a light sleeper was one of the many things he had to adapt to in his profession. He leaped over Ringo cautiously, careful not to wake the smaller man, and rushed over to the door to swing it open, finding John looking frenzied. He was fully dressed and George could see the light outline of a gun under his jacket, yet another thing he quickly had to learn to notice, but he still looked somewhat dishevelled with his tie askew and his hair ruffled.

"Get dressed, now. It's Paul." John ordered and George simply nodded, spinning around to collect his discarded coat from the floor, his knife from the table and rushing into his bedroom to pick up his gun. There was no time to panic, as soon as he allowed himself a moment to think about the severity of the situation he wouldn't be able to function. He hurried back to the door where John was struggling to keep his composure, beads of sweat collecting on his forehead. George simply nodded to him and they made their way to the stairwell as they couldn't afford to wait for the lift. George slammed the door behind him without bothering to lock it, causing Ringo to stir.

At times like this George cursed how they lived so high up in the tower, but it had been insisted that they were as close to the top as possible as though it made them somehow better than everyone else. It was all about status, his superiors used to say, to know that you were above others. John was clearly finding it difficult to keep it together as he rushed down the stairs rapidly, almost slipping on the steps at times and George began to worry; if something had already happened to Paul, how was John going to handle it? It was best not to think about it, not when they didn't have all the information. They managed to get to the lobby fairly quickly and they dashed out of the front door where they found an array of cars waiting for them, they rushed into the closest one and tried to catch their breath. In the front seat was their superior, George had never liked him much, who looked at them disapprovingly as if they kept him waiting. The cars sped off quickly before John and George could even begin to relax, this was bad... There had always been tensions with the other families and every so often someone would overstep the boundaries, but it had never been anyone George truly cared about before, and he dreaded to think the situation Paul might be in right now. When George had spoken to John last night he seemed extremely worried that Paul hadn't come home that evening which wasn't particularly rare, but it wasn't often that John didn't know where he was and it was putting John on edge with all the threats they'd been getting from this family. There had been a few isolated fights in bars between groups but nothing major and George didn't expect it to bubble up like this.

"What's the plan?" John spoke rapidly, he was gripping onto the edge of the seat desperately.

"All we know is that they've got Paul hostage. They said they have terms they want to hash out, but haven't said what." Their superior spoke facing forwards, he sounded completely calm "We wouldn't even be asking you two along, but they insisted that they spoke to you alone. I'm completely against it, but they didn't want to run the risk of Paul getting hurt. He already sounded pretty beaten up."

George took a sharp inhale when he heard the plan, they'd never done anything this high profile alone before and he had no idea if they'd be able to get Paul back safely. He looked over to John in an attempt to show a knowing look but he was just gazing out of the window, his hand still gripping tightly on the car seat. If he felt confident enough on his own he'd insist that John stayed behind, but he doubt he'd even allow it. As close as George was to Paul, John knew him better by far and the two shared an insanely close bond. They drove the remainder of the way in near silence, George fiddled with his gun in preparation and tried to compose himself. When the cars came to a halt John finally returned to reality and he took a deep breath, then passed George a sombre look to let him know that he was ready.

"We'll be here on the corner if you need us. I can't stress how important it is that you get this right, if you fuck up and leave here without Paul then I wouldn't bother coming back at all. Negotiate with them, I don't think there's a limit to how much he's willing to pay to get Paul back safe, and don't do anything stupid." Their superior spoke bluntly and it didn't help George's nerves at all.

They stepped out of the car in silence and started walking down the empty street, it was horribly cold without their coats but neither of them noticed the chill. George took another look at John who walked with clenched fists and a tight jaw, looking determinedly ahead.

"John..." George somehow managed to mask the nerves in his voice "I know how you must be feeling right now, but we really need to do this calmly... For Paul's sake."

John sighed and slowed his pace, looking at the ground "I can't stand the thought of it George. Paul all tied up and beaten, absolutely terrified and all alone. It should've been me instead."

George wasn't sure how to respond, Paul was always the one to calm him down if he got like this, he just gave John's arm a reassuring squeeze "You can't think like that. We're gonna get him back, we've just gotta be smart about it. Paul wouldn't want anyone to get hurt, even if it's for his own good."

John smiled at the thought of Paul's good nature, but the tension in his body still remained. Eventually they made their way to an abandoned warehouse where two threatening-looking men stood at the door, one was leaning on the wall and smoking a cigarette, the other looking focused with his arms across his chest. They nodded knowingly when George and John stood in front of them, giving them a surveying with their eyes, and opened the heavy door. George went first, he was feeling really nervous about the entire situation but most of all he worried that John might do something stupid. They found themselves in a dimly lit, mostly empty space which had a man positioned in every corner. In the centre was the one of the higher-ups of the Chapman family; they had been rising up the ranks at an alarming rate the past couple of years and seemed to have no issue about muscling their way to the top. Neither George nor John recognised their face but it was clear that he was the man they were here to see. He smiled at them devilishly as they entered the room and had the door shut tightly behind them.

"Such an honour to finally meet you both." His grin widened as he placed one of his hands in his pocket, no doubt fiddling with a knife "Now I'm sure you're worried sick about your good friend Paul, but rest assured he's very much alive with just a little wear and tear. You know how it is."

George began scoping the room, eyeing up each man individually and trying to gauge how many of them had guns and concluded it was the one in the furthest corner, and no doubt their gracious host was carrying too. The four men looked tough enough but George learned quickly that muscle and intimidation only went so far in this business, and his family had always valued skill and wit above all else, so he wasn't too alarmed. The central man worried George most of all, anyone who like to blab was dangerous and often unpredictable. John only stared straight ahead at the man and George wasn't even sure if he was listening, his mind seemed far more preoccupied with his bubbling anger.

"Now of course, you have no reason to believe me. You don't know me from Adam, so it's probably best if I show you." He clicked his fingers and one of the goons went into the next room, no doubt to fetch Paul.

There was nobody in the room with the hostage? These guys were amateurs, George thought, but that didn't make them any less of a threat; even if they weren't smart, they could have many tricks up their sleeve. The man returned from the room dragging Paul by the neck of his jacket, he tossed him onto the ground beside the negotiator. Paul fell down on his knees hard, he had tape over his mouth and his hands were bound together tightly with rope - George could see even from his position the red marks from where the rope had aggravated the skin, these guys were far from hospitable, and he had dark bruises on his face. The sight made George want to cry, he'd seen Paul beaten up before of course but never had he looked so defeated. John let out a grunt and his hand was twitching, eager to draw his gun, and Paul's weak gaze on him only seemed to infuriate him further.

"This should be simple. You give us the money, and we give you Paul. Mind, he doesn't come cheap and he's caused an awful amount of damage with the fuss he kicked up when he took him. We thought he'd be the calmest out of you lot, but I guess we were wrong." He took a step towards Paul who seemed to sink in his presence.

The thought of Paul fighting back against his kidnappers made George proud, they were wrong to underestimate him "How much?" He'd heard these situations go down once or twice, but he had never been the initiator of it all and be tried his best to replicate what he'd seen.

"50,000 ought to do it. After all, no price is too high for your precious Macca, right?" His tone was sinister and it made John scowl to hear Paul's nickname coming out of such a vile mouth.

"Are you mad!? 50 grand for beating the living shit out of him? He can barely fucking stand! If you don't think the consequences of this are gonna be dire, then you're wrong mate. Hand him over to us now, and we won't have to hurt you." John growled, this wasn't a good sign at all, and the man only laughed in response.

"Hurt me? Please, spare me the theatrics. You lads are full of fire, I'll give you that much. But let's not get carried away here, you wouldn't want to do something you'd regret." With this final word he pulled out his knife, it glistened in the low light of the room, and placed it slowly under Paul's chin and his eyes lit up in panic. "Would we?"

George didn't even have time to think before he heard the gunshot, he barely had time to breathe before the man's body hit the floor lifelessly. John had never killed before, but he had acted without a second thought and no sign of regret. One shot went square in the man's head and another to the man in the corner closest to them, the bullet firing into his chest and killing him where he stood. George never liked using his gun and his first instinct was to always go for his knife, so he pulled it from his pocket and extended the blade before the chaos truly began. Luckily John had shot the only other guy with a gun, whether that was intentional or pure chance George didn't know, and the three other men pounced with their knives out.

John took out his knife now, it would've been ridiculous to carry on shooting when things got hectic, luckily he remembered that even in his haze of rage. John rushed at one of the men and made quick work of getting him on his knees with a well-placed kick and a hard punch to the head. John was far stronger than he looked and the Chapman's plan of demanding some of the youngest of the family in hopes that they'd be weak and inexperienced had truly failed. John disarmed the man but took a hard punch in the stomach which winded him for a few seconds.

Meanwhile George was tackling two assailants and it wasn't easy, he ducked and dodged their knives as best he could as he had to focus hard on not being overpowered. He really hadn't anticipated this situation, and while he understood John's reaction completely he cursed him for being so impulsive.

John pushed the larger man further onto the ground, kicking him hard in the ribs a couple of times to ensure he stayed down. His head was entirely empty of thoughts, he was running on pure adrenaline and instinct. He rushed over to George's aid and managed to grab one of the men from behind, kneeing them in the back and forcing them to the ground. George had already been punched around a fair bit but he didn't look shaken, barely taking his eyes off the other man for even a second. The worst part about situations like this was not knowing how far your opponent was willing to go, most people would submit and beg for mercy eventually but there were a few groups who were truly willing to fight to the death, and George worried that these men would fall into the latter category. The man swung at George's face and knocked him backwards, he managed to avoid the next one and landed a hard punch in his stomach.

At the point George was gaining confidence that they might be able to handle it, the door was thrown open and the two guards from outside rushed in with their knives out. Distracted, George got punched in the side and stumbled backwards, he had to make peace with the fact he'd have to use his knife. The smell of blood and sweat was spreading throughout the room, the sounds of grunts and heavy breathing. George flashed John a look, he looked almost crazed. The man charged at George again, this time with his knife, but George acted faster and sunk his blade deep into the man's stomach and he pulled away with a scream. He moved his hands quickly down to his stomach, pulling them away to see them covered in warm blood.

It was three against two now, if only Paul was in a state fit for fighting the odds would be equal, but he remained tied up in the corner helplessly watching his friends. John had been pummelling the other man, pinning him down to the floor as his mercilessly punched his face again and again; he looked completely lifeless. George had to pull John away, he was getting lost in the haze of the violence. The man rolled over onto his side, his eyes puffed up, and spat a long trail of blood onto the floor. The guards helped him up to his feet and somehow he was able to stand, his shaking hand clinging to his knife. They were far larger than the two of them and George was already feeling exhausted, his chest badly bruised and his head swimming in pain. Then the other men were on them, one brandishing his blade and stabbing it sloppily into George's side, it pierced the skin but luckily wasn't too deep.

"Fuck!" George screamed out, feeling the blood quickly dampening his shirt, but he had no time to even think about the pain as he speared his knife upward into his attacker, just below his ribs and holding it there for a few seconds, then pulling it out swiftly and pushing the limp body to the ground.

The wounded man had managed to land several hard punches on John, he must've been running high on adrenaline and George winced thinking about how much pain he'd be in when it wore off. The second man was keeping John in place, grabbing his arms from behind while he got battered. George stumbled forward, his mind was getting hazy with the blood loss, and stabbed the man from behind in a last act of exertion. His grip on John slacked who was then able to pounce on the final man, knocking him to the floor once more and resuming his pummelling. The room was almost silent now, bodies littering the floor, excluding the rhythmic punches John threw on the man's bloodied face. Blood was spilling out all over the floor in pools and George struggled to avoid it as he shuffled over to John and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"John-" George huffed, but John shoved him away with his shoulder and continued his assault. "John! We need to get the fuck out of here! Grab Paul and let's go!" He wanted to sound more commanding but he just sounded weak, he needed medical attention and quickly.

John seemed deaf to George's words until he mentioned Paul, then his head lifted quickly to look at his friend who sat frightened in the corner. John rushed over and cut the restraints as carefully as he could but he was still shaking from the whole ordeal, he removed the tape from his mouth and Paul gasped for breath.

"Can you walk?" John asked, he sounded close to tears.

Paul tried to stand up, holding onto John's forearm tightly for support but when he tried to rise to his full height his knees buckled and he fell forward. John held him steadily then lifted him into his arms with ease. George finally had a moment of relief, seeing the two of them reunited, but it was short-lived with the repetitive pangs of pain shooting through his body. John looked over at George who simply nodded, he knew he was able to walk back to the car but anything further felt beyond his capabilities. And so they left the warehouse as quickly as they could, leaving behind the battered bodies.

When they were in sight of the cars multiple men piled out to help them, one taking Paul quickly and lying him in the backseat of a car to see to his injuries. The rest crowded around John and George, one helping George walk as his pace weakened, and assessing the damage. It was at this point George learned John had also been stabbed, after his jacket was thrown off there was that too-familiar red mark on the back of his shirt. He had no idea when it happened but he was stunned at how easily he powered through the pain and George wondered if John even noticed it at all in his frenzy of emotion. John seemed far more interested in watching over Paul than getting any help himself, and he refused to lie down in the back of a car so he could be seen to, and instead was treated standing up beside the car Paul was in.

George felt relieved as soon as he sat down and the exhaustion fell on him like a weight, he could barely feel the stitches going into his skin as he looked up at the night sky. It was rare that anyone was ever sent to the hospital, it was far too risky to send someone there if they'd been in a gang fight because the police were never too far behind. But there were limits to what their doctors could do, and there weren't always enough if any at all, so every so often they'd have to brave the repercussions. Luckily George had never been so unfortunate as to end up in hospital, and he prayed that his luck would continue. At some point their superior walked over to George with a face painted with disappointment, but he was far too checked out to pay him any attention and eventually he gave in and sent George home. Paul had to report to the higher-ups and John refused to let him go alone, so they went off in a separate car. George lay in the backseat of another, watching the streetlights as they drove back to his flat in silence.

It wasn't long before he began to return to the present and he began to think about the man he'd left on his sofa. He felt like shit, but the thought of being able to return home to Ringo's soft, blue eyes and wide smile made him feel just that little bit better. He only hoped that the sight of him in such a state wouldn't scare him away, he realised in that moment that he cared very much what Ringo thought about him. A weak smile spread on his face, he'd never had someone to return home to before and he hoped it would become a common occurrence.

[jojoreadwhat]

i'm the best book you'll never read / honey & smoke - m.h. x OFC story

Lucy's POV.

It's been a weekend and three days since Matty tried kissing me under the stars. His breath still a lingering scent that wouldn't subside, so close to my pale skin. Laced with the red wine shared between us and the minty menthol he had threw before hovering over me. Sending this racing chill through my body that was fitting with the warmth of the wine I had consumed. His dark chocolate eyes like daggers against my crystal blues, tracing my face like transparent paper. A scene that wouldn't leave, a scene I was wish I played into instead of pause.

The words replaying in the savory tone of Matty's thick accent, 'You're not one of them' his calloused index finger running over my forehead. Moving the little strand dancing across it. 'Not in the slightest.'  Watching as his rare lips, so defined and gloss-like. Curl into this unconventional smile that was so.. inviting.

I sighed to myself, opening my eyes to the window with the picture perfect scene. Lightly shaking my head to possible mistake I had made. His strange absence painting the bigger picture that all was not the truth, that I was different in that moment. Only because I wanted more grammar rather than the tongue tied language he wanted to perform.

It was best to keep it a subtle memory, keeping me at bay for all the wonders I was expected to see in London. Matty was just an introduction to it all, starting the carpet that would lead me to all I was hoping to find here. Experience.

I looked down at my leather bound in my lap, writing the finishings of my entry before reading the watch on my wrist. Today is my first day working in the university's library. I buckled the strap of my journal, throwing it into my bag before grabbing another coffee for the walk.

++

I walked to the west wing of campus to the building separated from the rest of it, I swear the library for this campus was bigger than two mansions. Three floors full of magic aligned each shelf. A different world for a different day of the week. The smell ventilating so much that I could catch it into a jar like you would sand on a foreign beach.  

I clocked in, placing my belongings into a locker in the back. I bent down to fix the buckle of my mary jane's, before I stood in front of a community mirror. Straightening out my navy and green plaid skirt, readjusting the black tulip hem shirt following the placing of my lanyard over my neck.

Taking a breath, before going to look for my supervisor, Matilda. Blonde long haired woman approaching her fifties. Blue eyes similar to mine and this angelic face that you only seen in those old Victorian paintings in museums. With a very laid back style, a different patterned skirt everytime I seen her during study hall. Loaded with different amounts of jewelry, and smelling of fresh eucalyptus.

She was marking books with little color tags on their linings. Separating them from different genres. I lightly tapped her because you know the rules of libraries, six inch voices. She spun around with a warming smile, kind of like the one my mom gave.

"Ah, Ms. Collins. It's your first day!" She exclaimed ever so quietly.  Placing her arm around my shoulders blades as she directed me. Her light embrace warming me heavily, "I've been looking forward to working with you."

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Matty's POV.

I stood at the counter of Rocket Records as each strike of the clock moved and people browsed through the plastic wraps of wonders. I was in the mist of heading to uni when James called in a frantic. Ryan, the morning shift had an emergency to attend too. Taking me out of the terrible excuse of books and lectures. So I could stare at the girl a few rows in front.

Friday kept replaying in my head.

The way she danced to the strums of my guitar. The way her face squinted after her first sip of her drink. Her refreshed skin glistening against the neons as she came out of the ladies room. Her little hand in mine as I led her on the outskirts, buying cheap wine to watch the street lights and stars make align in her eyes. That laugh cascade over the sounds of the stale city, making it ever so bright in the night. The way she was so small laying slightly beneath me, how every bit of the details etched on her face. Were what she considered flawed, but to I so beautiful blended. Lastly how guarded her valuable heart was as her small hands barely amounted to the strong opinions running from her mouth.

I smirked in thought at the way her eyes widened when I didn't move my stance. Which them open from fear she was trying to have subside, to the curiosity of why I was still lying there. Showing that what I remarked back was the most truth I had ever spoken. She was not the red head in the bar when she seen her hands resting around me. Not the blonde that left my flat the day I found Lucy in my Creative Writings class. She was Lucy. Lucy Collins, a girl with lines to read and understand.

The little bell over the door had rang, my two friends and bandmates Ross and Adam peering from the sunny autumn breeze. Holding bags of clanking bottles and snacks as they rested them on the counter in front of me.

"It's Wednesday." I reminded. Very aware of the events taking place tonight.

Ross looked at me taken back on my greetings. "It's two days till Friday. We are just preparing." He replied, Adam chiming in beside him with a chuckle. I sighed to myself, taking the tagging gun and running along a pile.

"Is it a big one?" I asked, my mind flooding with papers due and studying to do. As much as I would be usually stoked for the midnight ride, I wasn't feeling it much.

Adam shook his head, "Preparing remember?" He remarked, resting his arms on the counter. "It's just enough for good food, good tunes and some nice company." He added, picking up a record.

"Plus, we think you should invite Lucy." Ross added once more, "She's quite the catch."

For my usual laid back, very unreadable expressions. I could feel the curl in my cheeks with only the truth filling the room. She's a definitely a catch. A catch so difficult to grasp.

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Lucy's POV.

Matilda had directed to me the front desk, giving me light duty today because we were pretty swamped. It was the middle of the next week now and there was essays and exams due. I felt all the same pain, I had a double whammy of exams on Friday that I was dreading to bits.

I worked with the computer, helping my fellow classmates if we had books available or if they had been checked out. It was definitely a sucky job, I hated the feeling knowing you didn't get to a book in time. It was like getting to class late... And naked to top it off.

Eventually it had died down. Matilda was now at the desk with me, eating peanuts and checking library check out slips.

"So Ms. Collins. What are you studying?" She asked, during my interview it was cut short so she didn't get to ask about why this American was in London.

I helped check slips with her, "Literature. I write." I explained, I didn't really have a direction when it came to what type of writing I was studying. I took up creative writing and women studies as extras cause many books I read were along those lines. But honestly, I just wanted anything to everything about writing at my fingertips. Writing never had directions, just flows.

She seemed pleased, "My daughter is a writer too." She went on, looking just like her I bet, pretty long blonde hair, taking the world by storm.  Writing about experiences she had and was experiencing things as we spoke. Wearing a coat of many colors without any shame. That would be a level I'd like to reach after this.

"I bet you have great stories." She continued, I smiled at her positivity. She had no idea that I only had a first kiss in Junior high and talked to a homeless guy once or twice. All my experiences being so blah and that standing in this library. In a place so new, was more exciting than all of them combined. "I bet he knows that too." She added once more, my face immediately flustering into confusion.

She smiled at my questioning look of her mentions. "He was here a few days ago when you had picked up My Life On The Road." She explaining more specifically, "His eyes were all over you more than the book in his hands."

She went on to describing him but I didn't need more, instead I was beginning to feel more guilt than I already had. Totally judging him by his past when mine was just a sheet of lined paper. Jotted with scarce notes that never even made it to the market, just a list of things I never did.

++

Matilda set the alarm before locking the doors and saying goodnight. Day one of work had been surprisingly smooth than I expected. Leaving me now with enough energy of diving into textbooks and paperbacks of my own. Excited for the fresh bottle of pumpkin spice creamer in the fridge, the Coldplay record that was delivered to the house via email and the half eaten tub of apple crisp flavored ice cream. Waiting to be devoured in the freezer hidden behind the stack of frozen peas.

With the unlikely exciting things to be thrilled about for some when getting home. I retraced the familiar route to the tube that would lead me to my happy events of the night. The mixed aromas of firewood and the brisk winds tickling my nose, I went to slip in my headphones. Finishing from the middle of Moose Blood when the voice I kept hearing replay in my mind. Was now colliding against the autumn winds.

"Hey Blue." His voice sliding down my spine like ice.

Leaning against his car that was dark like the sky above. His hands in the green army jacket over the white and blue of his flannel, edging out all the tone of his build. His black infamous holed jeans meeting at the bottom where his vans were crossed. Casually playing the aesthetic he walked.

I walked towards to him, stopping two feet but only itching to get closer.

"How did you know I was here?" I asked with his absence from Creative Writing remained on my mind.

He smirked, probably mentally preparing for all the questions to roll off my tongue like a ball on the ground. "Abby told me that you were working." He replied, surprised that he went looking for me in the first place.

"Were you hoping I fetched your homework?" I remarked. My mind immediately regretting the bantering remark.

He shook his head, "No." looking down at his shoes. "I was hoping to catch you." Before his brown eyes met mine again, even with the indigo that surrounded us. They were so bright, golds so prominent like the moon dancing with stars.

"The boys and I are having a party tonight." He said, "I was hoping you could stop by."

My mind playing tricks splitting like a Gemini on a off day, one part wanting to cover my face with apple crisp ice cream. The other was Matty opening the door to the passenger seat of his car.

++

The party was smaller than I had thought about on the drive here. Just a handful of friends, good brews and fresh tunes.

Matty grabbed me a drink before grabbing my hand and pulling me to the dance floor. I was never much for parties or the way my hips move off beat. But for Matty's hands to lay on my waist as his wine breath danced along the skin of my neck. I was fabricating more ways in my head for this feeling to be more frequent. The past thoughts of earlier as I was dealing with guilt for Friday. Were beginning to feel sighs of reliefs with all the words Matty babbled and the laughs he caused to ripple against the music.

More people started coming in from the yard, changing the vibe and it was getting more difficult to listen to Matty talk. Finding the words that would fall so easily were being replaced by nods and smiles. Trying to hint a bit that it was beginning to be crowded and he was all I wanted to listen too.

"Let's go to my room." He slightly slurred without waiting for a response, his hand moving from the fabric resting on my waist. Now running along into my hand as he moved through the crowd till we reached stairs.

He turned the knob of a door covered in nonsense stickers of bands till we entered his room. The room loosely matched his door, posters in multiple different sizes overlapping, collages, and a tapestry of different faces he admired plaster on the walls. I looked around, Matty turning on a lamp on his nightstand before sitting on his bed. Silently watching me as I silently observed the things that hadn't fallen from his mouth.

I chuckled to myself as I counted a few more pictures of Prince than Michael Jackson. The first week of his friendliness and his one man protest of who was better coming to mind. "You really think Michael Jackson is better?" I recanted, pointing out some of the snippets of articles I had found. "Okay, maybe. But Prince definitely has killer style." He replied as I shook my head in amusement. Trailing my eyes to the colorful bookshelf with bold names seeping. Picking up Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman. A book I had all intentions of picking up in the bookstore back home, but it never made it to the register.

The sound of a lighter clicking as Matty lit his menthol was followed with his towering figuration standing from his gray duvet covered bed.

"Ever read it?" He asked, the cigarette moving with every curl of his lip. Wrapping his fingers around it as he pulled it away to exhale. I shook my head, a look of surprise gracing his face. The English major failing to read a book that fallen between cracks and rolled up lists.

I watched as he brought the cigarette back to his perfectly formed lips, inhaling once before exhaling into a question. "Do you remember your first English class?" He began, middle school replaying in my mind, Ms. Lindsay's pretty floral dress, the posters aligning the walls with every author you could imagine. She was a big part of my decision of devoting my life into words, journals and novels.

Matty's voice breaking me from my memory, "Remember when they taught you to never judge a book by it's cover?" He added, I looked back down at the book that was falling to pieces, the cover was beginning to wear and the colors becoming stale. "Even if it's a over read story or just a plot you'll never fully understand?" Inhaling once again, "Or just a author with too much exposure?" I ran my fingers over it's folded pages, the old and fresh notes made in the indents.

All his questions beginning to connect like the lining of the book. Matty was a book, folded at it's edges, full of knowledge and secrets some old from past lives, some new. Over read like the one in my hands.

I looked up at Matty who was beginning to raise his hand to take another swing of his cigarette. I had other ideas when I gently grabbed his wrist before I reached up and met his lips with mine. He was taken back my sudden action, making two of us. I was nervous about what I had begun but it all subsided when his hands wrapped around my waist. Pulling me closer, tasting what I was about to guard myself from, like he was a banned book that I was going to go through all lengths to read.

[emptywithout]

Ten

A complete rewrite of an old story. Yes, it’s angsty. 

Warnings: angst

Sam’s been gone for three fucking days with no call or note or anything. Their dad’s somewhere on the other side of the country and not answering his phone in true John Winchester fashion. Dean’s been going crazy looking for his brother.

 It’s dark outside.

Sam stumbles through the door of the motel room, slamming it into the wall. Dean jumps up in alarm. He’s on his feet instantly, pulling his gun at the sudden sound.

“Jesus Sam, where the fuck have…” The sharpness in his voice drops instantly and he speaks the next three words slowly. “…you…been…S-Sammy?” The last word pushes out of Dean like a heavy sob as he puts his gun away. It’s raining outside and Sam’s soaking wet – and wearing only his boxers.

“Sammy?” Dean says again, walking towards his brother. His anger changes to concern.

“Spell!” Sam gasps, voice barely a whisper, clutching at his heart. His eyes roll back in his head and his knees buckle. He starts to collapse.

Dean lunges toward his brother, catching him right before he hits the floor. He scoops Sam up in his arms and places him on the nearest bed, kicking the motel door shut. He tries to sit him up, but Sam flinches at Dean’s touch.

Dean steps back and gasps when he actually gets a good look at Sam, who is now twitching and moaning. He is covered in bruises and lacerations, including one very nasty black eye.

“Oh my god…” Dean feels a chill run through his entire body. His face feels momentarily numb. He runs to the bathroom and returns with a warm washcloth and two large towels. He carefully dabs at the skin, wiping away the still dripping blood. His hands shake. “Who did this?” he thinks. He gently wipes at the swollen eye and Sam hisses, suddenly sitting up and clearly in pain.

“De -  she…she…spell…” Sam’s voice wobbles and he begins to choke.  He grabs on to Dean’s shirt and Dean sees the fear in his brother’s eyes. He tries desperately not to panic as Sam is gasping for air.  He finally takes in a large breath, exhaling heavily. “Death…sp-spell.  Sl-ow. P-p-painful. D-d-dean!” Sam’s eyes squeeze shut and he tightens his jaw. His fists clench so hard they dig into Dean’s skin.

Dean’s heart drops to his feet.

“I got you Sam, I got you, hang on!” Dean’s eyes dart frantically around the room, looking for the med kit they keep with them at all times (the one with the kinds of medicines most EMTs don’t even know about). He has to forcibly pull Sam off of him to find what he needs.

He finds the bag in the bathroom and digs through the bottles until he finds what he’s looking for.

“Come on, come on!” He yells. “Where is - Ha!” His fist tightens around a vial with purple liquid in it. Unzipping the outer pocket of the med kit, Dean pulls out a needle and pops off the cap with his teeth. He’s quick, but careful with the amount. He knows the dosage has to be just right.

Sam’s stopped choking, but now he’s shivering. He’s curled in a ball, his lips trembling.  But Sam sees what Dean’s doing and his eyes flash with fear. He looks at Dean. “T-ten..” he says weakly.

Dean nods. He places his hand gently on Sam’s cheek. He’s pushed his own panic away for the sake of Sam, but inside, he’s terrified. “I know. Okay? Trust me, Sammy. I’ve got you.” He speaks calmly and softly, looking directly in Sam’s eyes. He gives Sam a warm, comforting smile.

Sam’s eyes close slowly and he takes a sharp, painful breath. His hand reaches up to his cheek to rest on top of his brother’s.  He opens his eyes and nods.

“T..rust. Y-you, De-“

Dean doesn’t break eye contact as he plunges the needle into his brother’s heart. He doesn’t look away when Sam sags limply in his arms, either.

[monstrousaffections1]

Fire Root Part 1

Slipping out the back she breaths a sigh of relief to get away from the growing insanity inside. Taking a cigarette from her pocket she looks for her lighter. ‘Damn… I left it inside.’ She rubs her head, leaning against the wall, groaning tiredly. “Fuck.” Looking through the window, she begins to ask herself if it was safe to enter the building. Huh.. well, Lilith hasn’t come downstairs yet so it must be ok. She thinks, just as a lowly no-body in a coat came flying through the glass window. Olivia is barley able to duck to the side in time. Rolling her eyes she walks away, flipping the whole building the finger on her way out. “Fuck this shit.” Tending Lilith’s bar had it’s perks, free drinks, meet interesting people. But when things got out of control, she’s outta there. Not getting shot over it that’s for sure. As if on cue a gunshot rang from in the bar. Rolling her eyes she starts crossing the street.

Rummaging through her bag she looks for the Fire Root she had been given once. Seeing the small plastic bag is nearly empty she pinches the bridge of her nose in agitation, this just wasn’t her night. “Fuck my life.” Storming back to the Nightclub she slipped inside and races upstairs, dodging a flying knife. She knocks on Lilith’s Private Lounge. “Lil!” she calls out, and with a yelp pushes a drunken demon over the stair railing when he staggers at her wielding a broken bottle. The double doors open and Azazel steps out. “What’s up kiddo?” he asks, grinning wildly. His eyes reading very clearly ‘This had better be good Oli.’ She gulps. “uh.. they’re getting really rowdy down there Azzie..” another gunshot goes off and a lightbulb bursts. The goat demon blinks. “Ok, hang on kid. We’ll sort this out. Lilith!” he calls back into the room. “Gimmie a hand turning out this lot!” and with that he grabs Olivia’s arm and pulls her into the room, so fast that when he lets go she spins a few times before regaining her balance with a stumble. “Holy—” “Language toots. We got guests.” He cackles. With a huff she straightens herself up, brushing her short hair behind her ear comfortably.

Lilith slowly stands, long red hair hanging down in curls, all the way to her hips. Womanly wiles in every feature, motherly hips, decently curved and seductiveness on her red lips, evil in her green snakeish eyes. She stands a foot taller than Olivia as she puts a hand on the teen’s shoulder. “Oli. Honey. Do us a favour and keep Darling Sofiel and Sabbathian company.” The raven-haired girl nodded. Translation. ‘Make yourself useful and pour our business partners/rivals drinks.’. When the double doors closed, Olivia turns to face the two demons she had only, until now, gotten glimpses of.

Sofiel looks at the girl with a deep knowing in her eyes, her red lipstick making her smile just a little bit more sinister, her beauty almost rivals that of Lilith, which would explain the seeming budding tension between them. “You. My dear, are in need of a Fix.” Olivia blinks, she knew better than to ask how the Demoness new. It would only get her a condescending chuckle. So, instead, she nods. “Yep.” The snake demon smirks, he’s a handsome fellow, green scales, lime eyes. And he doesn’t dress that bad either. She clenches her fists, not liking the intent way he seems to undress her with his eyes. Hiding her uncomfortableness, she folds her arms “What’s to you?” She asks. Sofiel giggles, snapping her fingers. “Sabby.” Sabbathian frowns at the nick name but walks forward. Handing her a coupon. “Go to the parking lot, you’ll know who your looking for, tell him Sofiel said it’s on the house.” She stares at him. Alarmed and, rationally, a little bit suspicious, they were Gangsters after all. Demonic Gangsters to boot.

“Ok, right. Question. Are you trying to kidnap me?” She asks, not masking her scepticism. The two look at each other, before chuckling in the way that adults chuckle when talking to a child. Sofiel applies some more lipstick “No.” And takes a sip of Champaign. “Honey. We’re in the business. And you need a hit. Call it… A free sample.” Olivia stares at the lipstick stain on the glass, gnawing her own lip. She wasn’t a idiot. This is what Drug dealers did. Offered free samples out for free. Then waited for the same people to come back for more, with money this time. She gulps. She wouldn’t let herself get addicted. Besides, it’s not like she took the Fire Root that often. Just… when she was under a lot of stress, that’s all. She gulps. And without another, word, she steps out the window onto the fire escape. Climbing down the steps she looked about, zipping up her hoody. Pulling the hood up she walks quickly to the parking lot. It’s a little way away from the Nightclub, and there isn’t a lot of cars. Afterall, tonight was Devil’s Night. Not many people would be out unless they wanted to be caught up in this stuff. The night had a chill to it. Steam coming off her breath as she stuck to the darkness, avoiding the street lights. Not that it would do her much good, demons see in the dark, after all. But rather get kidnapped by demons then get questioned by any lurking Copers brave enough to be out on this kind of night. She did Not want to get sent back to St Albertus.  

She stiffens. Staring ahead. Bright eyes glow dangerously in the dark. She gulps, and raises a hand, showing him the coupon. “Sofiel sent me..” A blink, then movement in the dark. The car door opens and the figure gets in. The headlights hit her dead on. Blinding her with their brightness. Olivia hisses, raising an arm to shield her face, squinting her eyes. A low chuckle comes form the demon as he steps out of the vehicle, closing the door and begins to walk towards her. “Whatchu after. Doll.” His tone has a dangerous thrumming sound, it comes from his chest, and rises up into his throat. For a moment the fear of being kidnapped rises again in Olivia’s mind. She takes a step back. Adrenaline screams at her to run. But the more experienced part of her mind tells her, that if she runs. He’ll kill her. So she squares her shoulders, stands up straight and raises a brow, pretending the bright light doesn’t phase her. “Fire Root.” She says, putting as much authority into her voice as possible. Folding her arms. The demon barks a laugh. “That’s a lotta juice for a little girl like you.” He says, and steps into the light of the car, his eyes gleaming, and despite the fact she can only see his outline, half blinded by the light. She can see his sharp teeth as he smiles. Moving towards her. She breaths deep through her nose. He’s broad shouldered, definitely a solid build. Strong. His tail swishes behind him, never standing still and two impressive horns raise above his head. She holds her ground as he stands just infront of her. She can smell his scent now. Cigar and gun smoke. Steam comes out of his mouth as he breaths. He’s probably taking a whiff of her scent, atleast that’s what she assumes. She stares up at him, his eyes glowing in the dark, purposeful. A hint of malice laced within the amber that stares right back. She swallows. He holds out a packet. It’s small, if she’s careful with it will last her a week. “That it?” she asks. He chuckles. “We’ll negotiate amount when you start paying for it.” She takes the packet and shoves it in her bag. “I’m not a addict.” She doesn’t dare walk away. Not trusting him to not attack once her back is turned. “We’ll see.” He says, smiling like the cat that’s got the cream, moving first, going back to the car, his gait is of that of a man, who has nothing to worry about. She gulps and with hesitance she starts to walk backwards, before gaining the courage to turn and run back to the Nightclub.