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etherealyoungk · 1 month

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— ✦ sugar & spice | jeon wonwoo

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

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

THEMES: bodyguard au, mutual pining, slow burn

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

WORDCOUNT: 29.2k

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

full fic under the cut

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“y-yeah im okay”, you tell quickly.

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

“i can manage”, you say.

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

“what’s decided?”, you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“oh, i see”, you tell softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“the decision is final”, your principal tells.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“right, i see”.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“it’s good to be back”, you tell.

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

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

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

“thank you”, you tell, grateful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“her name is oreo”, he tells.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“black”, he says.

and of course he likes his coffee black.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“but where were you?”, you counter.

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

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

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

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

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

“yn, it’s late”, he tells sternly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“what’s wrong?”, wonwoo asks, alert.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“on what occasion?”, he asks.

“because you lost the bet”, you state.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“so?”, you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

i can see you

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

looking for me?

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

did i scare you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“it’s okay, i can stay”, he says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“did you see her?”, one of them says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“hi”, you say softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“what do you mean?”, you prompt.

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

“what if i’m not ready”, you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“where’s wonwoo”, you ask again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“yn we are not going there”

“just tell me, please”

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

“that’s all he said?”, you ask.

“yes”, and suddenly all your hopes sink.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“it’s jeonghan” wonwoo says softly.

“shit, what do we do?”

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

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

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

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

“how should i know”, wonwoo says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“yes your honour”, your lawyer fills in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"audio?", you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-at court-

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

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

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

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

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

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

“yes, can i know who this is?”

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

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

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

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

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

“what happened?”, you ask softly.

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

“shit”, you say.

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

“hey, hey look at me”, wonwoo says.

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

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

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

-final hearing-

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

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

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

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

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

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

“how do you feel yn?”

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

“please share a few words”

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

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

-epilogue-

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

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

“what is it love?”, he asks.

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

“do what?”, he asks calmly.

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

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

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

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

“i beg to differ”, he says calmly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“shut up”, you tell, giggling.

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

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

“why not”, you ask, playing along.

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

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

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

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

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

the end

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829 notes · View notes

mingsolo · 5 months

Text

yeosang x reader (f) / g: crime au, arranged marriage, angst, smut / wc: 6.5k / warnings: guns, blood mentions, descriptions of violence, minor character death, general 'mafia' and crime references, language, sexual content / r: 18+

another fic for another now defunct collab that i decided to write anyways! ps. sorry for the banner, i had a free editor and a dream :')

It's a beautiful Saturday.

The bushes and trees glow with that yellowish green shade proper to late summer. The sun is warm and it makes everything shine with a golden hue. You glance quickly towards your mother, she really knows how to choose the right date for the right parties.

As you bring your champagne glass closer to your lips, not sipping on it yet, the sight of the handsome man coming down the patio stairs behind your mom grabs your attention. He’s greeting and smiling warmly to everyone who gets closer to congratulate him.

Kang Yeosang, son of your father’s biggest and longest associate; soon to be one, if not— the most influential name of crime in South Korea.

And now, your husband.

“You can’t deny he knows how to look happy,” the voice of your younger brother interrupts your thoughts as he slides beside you, taking a champagne glass for himself from the waiter's tray as they pass by. “But you still think he is too...” Chan makes a pause reflecting on his words, “Soft?.”

You remain silent, your upper lip still slightly pressed into your glass. Your eyes don't leave your husband for a moment. Now he’s talking amusedly with your, barely older than you — stepmother, smiling and petting the two pomeranians she refused to leave at home for the wedding. He carries them like babies, smiles at them as your father’s wife shamelessly strokes his shoulder and smiles widely at the act. He puts the little dogs back in the ground and the furry things sprint around his feet as if he was their owner. He laughs heartily at the cute scene and it can be heard through the whole party. His laugh was low but gentle, warm and contagious.

“He does seem, maybe too nice...” Chan adds, before getting distracted by the giggles of his new girlfriend coming from a few feet away. “Shit.” He says and sprints away to her. You glance over the scene, the barely overage girl drunk as a skunk hovering over one of your cousins. You chuckle as Chan disappears into the main house draggin the girl away from your cousin. Immediately your eyes go back to Yeosang.

The more you stare at him the more he seems a stranger to the life you were used to living. He acts and looks softer and purer than every man in the room. You can hardly believe he has seen the surface of what this kind of life has to offer. But again, his father was one of the most ruthless men of the country, it was equally hard to believe he hadn't.

Barely a month ago, when your father gave you the ultimatum to marry someone powerful in the city, you had thought of Jeong Yunho first. Yunho, son of the chief of security of the capital, and an agent of the government himself. Both of them are corrupted and dirty even more than your own family, and half the “criminals” they swore to catch everyday.

Yunho was also your classmate back at law school, your party sidekick and your tennis partner, one with an incredible hit. You both had a long relationship of business and pleasure. Sadly, he was already engaged to the Governor's god-daughter. Everyone knew your family and he had a long history of running dirty business under the table, but marrying? That would be too much for Yunho’s bosses at the government to turn a blind eye to.

So after a short thought, all cards fall back into the Kang family, the only family beside yours with enough influence and power in Seoul. When you were told the son of Boss Kang was back in Korea after spending most of his twenties overseas, you had no chance but to accept he was the one.

It was a little troublesome, not knowing what to expect from him. But you would find out soon enough, or so you thought.

You didn’t meet Yeosang until a week before the wedding, at a rushed dinner arranged by both families.

The first time you laid eyes on him, all you could see was sincerity. He was polite, bright, witty and surprisingly fun. He had deep brown eyes and fine lips. On the left side of his face, he spotted a rather big beauty mark of peculiar shape. Beauty marks of that kind are usually unwanted and something to keep hidden, worse than scars, but the ones on his face framed it gracefully, like a fine accessory.

On him, there was none of the somber demeanor the people who have seen it all in this lifestyle usually had. At one moment he turned to you and smiled, understanding you might be cautious around him, and that confused you. You weren’t used to having emphatic men around you.

“Here’s to an union that brings out the best for both our families.” He had said with a toast, and for a moment when he smiled softly at you, it seemed like the life you were about to have by his side was a normal, risk free kind of one.

That was the first time you saw your now husband. This day, the wedding, was the second.

“Lovely wedding,” a soft voice came from behind you. You recognized it instantly, looking over your shoulder to see the tall frame of Yunho getting closer. “You look so beautiful as a bride”. He raised his glass and both made a silent toast, still looking ahead to the patio. “I heard you are going to Greece for your honeymoon?.” he pouted slightly. “Very romantic.”

“Now, who told you that?.” your eyes roll at him. You took the chance to glance at the expensive tuxedo he was wearing and how it looked maybe too good on him. It was really a shame you weren’t marrying Yunho instead, that trip to Greece probably wouldn’t have to go to waste.

“Chan did, but you knew that.” He smiled.

You glanced at your brother, who was now dragging his girlfriend back to the party, saying a few curses to your cousin as they passed by him. “Didn’t see you at the ceremony.” you turned to Yunho, who was shamelessly eyeing your cleavage.

“Oh I just came to the party,” He licks his bottom lip “I couldn’t bear seeing you swore true love to another man, tears are not a good look on me.”

You scoffed. “Doubt so.”

He smiled, biting his bottom lip. “So, have you had time to get to know more about him?.”

The sudden question made you arch your eyebrows. “Well, he is Kang Yeosang, soon leader of the entire Kang clan, owner of half of the dirty business in South Korea, what am I missing?.”

“I guess there’s nothing else worth knowing?.”

You look back at your now husband, pursing your lips when you find him staring directly at you. He was a few feet away but you could feel his eyes on yours, it was just a second but it sent shivers down your spine. He then immediately turned his attention to his father beside him.

“You alright?.” Yunho asks, raising his voice lightly as you zoned out for a moment.

You shook your head, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“When are you coming back from Greece?.” Yunho knows better than to try to push an answer out of you.

“Uh, we both need to get back quickly, so a week or so.”

Yunho hummed. “Will you call me when you get back?.” He said sipping on his drink without taking his eyes from you. You shook the sensation from before and chuckled. Men were really like kids. “Please?.” he added with a pout.

“You got balls huh? You really don’t care, I'm married to a Kang now?.”

Yunho turned to see Yeosang, now leaning attentively, as his father spoke to him closely. “Not really, should I?.”

“No, I don’t think so.” you turned to your husband again, not really believing he was entirely harmless. His kind laugh resonated again. Comforting, contagious, and you smiled.

That same night you and your husband flew to Greece. You got there together, to the mansion owned by Yeosang’s father, a house big enough to fit a couple of families without a chance for them to cross paths for a few days.

Yeosang gave you a brief tour of the mansion and said that every person there was your disposition for everything you needed. The only rule was not to get out to the city alone. He had business to attend to, of course, so after showing you around he left you and told you he would be back late that night.

He never did. So you spent the night getting familiar with the place, didn’t even bother to unpack except for your bathing suit and some toiletries as you knew you would spend all the time at the pool or sunbathing at the private beach, with your body guards close by all the time.

You got mad at first, as you too had matters to attend back home and decided to put them on pause for the trip. If he had stayed at least you could get to know him better, get an idea of who he was as a person, but he didn't show up for the next two days.

You planned to return back to Seoul alone on a tantrum, but decided to just stay and enjoy the comfort of the mansion and the sea. Whatever the case, you needed a week of relaxation before going back to normal business. Yeosang or not, you knew people in the city and you could go out to the club or something. You had an arsenal of armed bodyguards to feel safe despite what Yeosang had warned you about.

On top of that, the thought of calling Yunho once you were back home ringed in the back of your head, so the wait was worth enduring.

By the end of the week, after daily sunbathing and catching up with a few books, you decided it was time to have at least a night of real fun. You called a couple of friends, letting them know you were in the city and were in need for a night out.

The night finally came, only a few minutes past nine. Your shiniest and shortest dress is waiting for you lying on the bed. Right now in just your silk nightgown you were finishing with your makeup, when a sudden loud blast made you roll the tip of the lip gloss applicator over your cheek. Reflexes abruptly make you take out your revolver from the nightstand, walking slowly to the door paying attention to any noise.

You glance outside through the glass windows, the garden lights illuminating the roundabout at the entrance of the mansion. There you spot the men guarding the entrance getting in an alert position, running towards the door.

A couple of loud blasts more and you see two of them dropping on the ground. Quickly you turn the lights off and hide in the back of the room, the moonlight giving you enough vision to see if someone gets inside, your gun closer to your face pointing ahead.

Alerted, you hear steps getting closer. “Mrs. Kang, are you hurt?!”. A voice you couldn’t recognize shouted. Yeosang’s men were still pretty unfamiliar to you and this was definitely not one of your guards.

You cautiously got closer to the door, gun still ready to shoot. “I’m fine.” you said. The handle of the door twisted as the man outside tried to get it open. “Tell me what is happening.”

“Someone tried to get into the house, they are probably looking for you or the boss, they got the ones at the entrance.”

You recalled one of your guards dropping on the ground a few moments back at the roundabout, and you sighed. “How many inside?.”

“A lot ma'am, we need to move quickly, please come out.” you could sense the man’s hurried tone on his voice.

“Where is my husband?.”

The man got silent for a moment before shouting. “He’s on his way, but right now we need to take you to a safer place, they are probably after you as well.”

Suddenly your cell phone began vibrating, it was over your bed, so you went to pick it up quickly. It was Yeosang calling.

“Mrs. Kang?!” the man shouted.

You tapped to answer the call. “Don’t open the door. I’m close.” your husband's voice was calm and clear, you didn’t respond and he hung up.

The man kept calling you as he knocked on the door. Desperation showing with the force and pacing with each knock. You hid inside the back of the room pointing out again. After a few seconds of silence you got startled by the man kicking the door, opening it widely. You pointed at him silently, thinking the dim lights were hiding you and giving you time to have the upper hand.

“Gotcha.”

The man jumped at you, having seen your reflection by the wall mirror against where you were hiding. You shooted and missed, he took the chance to tackle you down. He roughly rolls your body facing the ground, hands at your back, gun point to your head.

“You should have just opened.” he whispered to your ear, making you grin in disgust.

“You better let go of me.” you glared at him, as he made you stand up and guided you to the door with so much force your arm was getting numb.

“Or what?,” he chuckled, pressing the gun to your temple, hurting you.

“Or I will blow your brains out”.

Both the man and you looked up, the shape of Yeosang entering the room from the door frame, gun pointed at the latter. Two of his men behind him.

In the background, the shooting had ceased, apparently this man holding you was the last of the ones that had entered the house.

“There’s none of your friends left here,” Yeosang said, confirming your suspicions. The man tensed against you, now practically choking you by having his arm on your neck. “Let her go. I won’t repeat myself.”

“Fuck you Kang, here’s a little message from-”

The man’s last words were interrupted by Yeosang shooting his gun to his head, just a couple inches from your own. The loud noise made your ears ring, as the sudden force the man was applying to your neck vanished completely as he dropped dead. Blood and brain matter covered the top of your head. The cheek you had ruined with your lip gloss now covered in red.

For a moment you groaned in disgust, falling on your knees trying to breathe normally again, soothing your neck from where the dead man was choking you.

“Get up. We need to go.” Yeosang gave you his hand and helped you up. The blood dripping down your neck made you nauseous and you couldn’t hold it any more. The last thing you saw before fainting was Yeosang’s eyes on yours, your name sounding muffled as you closed your eyes on him.

When you woke up, you couldn’t recognize the room you were in. It was almost the same as the room you were in before. Big glass windows that reached the ceiling, greek decor and furniture. The light coming through the white curtains blinded you for a moment. When your eyes adjust to the sunlight, you look out, the Greece sea reflecting the sun rays back at it.

Your head was spinning. Instinctively you caressed your neck. Carefully you got up towards the big vanity mirror placed in front of the bed you were laying on. No trace of blood or the rest of that ashole’s brain over you, yet remembering how it felt made you nauseous again. A few faded yellow and purple bruises painted on your neck.

“You should go and take a proper shower.”

Yeosang’s voice came from the door frame, where he was leaning on. He walked slowly inside the room, passing you by and looking outside through the window glass.

“Who cleaned me?.” was the first thing you asked.

“The maids.” He said calmly. “How are you feeling?.”

“My head is killing me. And now I have these ugly bruises all over my neck, definitely not the good kind.”

Yeosang hummed, arching his eyebrows slightly. “How many times have you been in that kind of situation?.”

“A few.”

He remained silent, looking at you as you poured water into a tall glass.

“I’m sorry.” He said, getting closer. “One of your guys from Korea told them where we were, I should have been there.”

“What?.”

“Jung Taein?.”

“Jung? No fucking way.” you chuckled bitterly.

“It’s my fault. You alone at the house made you an easy target.” He said ashamed, looking away. “It won’t happen again.”

“Do you know who sent them?.”

“Yes.”

“Would you take care of that?.”

“It’s done.”

“Alright.” you added, finishing the water.

“Let me know when you are ready. We are flying back to Seoul as soon as you are.”

With that, Yeosang left the room, leaving you for the time being.

The flight back was a silent one. Yeosang spent the whole time on the phone -yours was turned off. That was for the better. Your parents must be calling you non stop all morning. You took the chance to sleep more, since you were still a little shaken by the attack.

As soon as you put foot at home, the whole day was turbulent. Both your mother and Chan were already waiting for you in the living room of your new mansion. They asked all kinds of questions again and again, making you dizzy. They both questioned Yeosang as well, making him swear that the guy who had planned the attack was more than dead.

Your father showed up later that evening, and the whole thing repeated itself. He spent most of the time in Yeosang’s office, briefly asking if you were okay when he arrived. When he was ready to leave he stroked your head saying “The pig is dead, your husband took care of that himself.”

That night, laying alone in your new bed, feeling cold and anxious more than ever, you replayed the scene in your head over and over.

“These mercenaries and their speeches, always thinking of themselves as movie villains.” Your father had said to you once when you were little. “Once they start talking, you have to shoot them.”

As you remembered this, you felt like smiling.

The next morning you got downstairs to have breakfast, surprisingly finding Yeosang at the table.

“Good morning.” He greets.

“Morning, oh what do we have here?.” you yawn, siting and finding a plate of pancakes and fresh fruit already served.

“You need energy.”

“Mmh,” you giggle cutely, catching a glimpse of Yeosang's smile. He notices you noticed the gesture and he quickly goes back to his breakfast. “How are you feeling?. ' he adds, eyeing his plate.

“Way better.” you said, shoving a big piece of pancake on your mouth, “I need to get ready to go to my office.”

Yoesang clears his throat, pensive. “I think you should lay low for a while.”

“Isn’t the guy that attacked me dead now?.” you asked, stuffing a strawberry on your mouth as one of the maids poured orange juice on a tall glass for you.

“Yes.” Yeosang pressed his back against his chair. “But there’s other guys.”

“What about you? Are you going to stay home as well?” your voice sounds annoyed but you don’t care. Yeosang looks briefly at you and then away. “So what should I do then? Stay hidden for the rest of the year here?.”

“Just a few weeks, until we are sure no one else is onto us anymore.” He said standing up.

“You know, there will always be someone “onto us”.” you huff, rolling your eyes at him.

“Let me know if you need something.” he said, giving you a nod and walking away.

“Seems like it's going to be you and me, girls.” you said to the two maids when he disappeared from the room. The women gave you a polite smile and you sigh.

That morning was the last time you saw him in almost four weeks.

Handling work stuff from the house was mad boring, and you started to feel claustrophobic. Rounded by security, you only had visits from your mom and Chan, sometimes your father or your new in-laws. The house was full of people all the time yet you felt completely alone in it. Suddenly you missed your office, your old apartment, your friends, anything but that strange house who you could barely call yours.

But oddly and mostly, you were desperate to get laid. It was a bothersome sensation inside you, not being able to release the stress from everything that had happened within the last month from being recently married to a stranger to almost being killed on your supposed honeymoon.

So you did what you planned to do in the first place as soon as you were back, the only thing that would make you release the stress and clear your mind.

Yunho called first, a few days after you arrived back at Seoul. The conversation was brief but he let you know he was available for whenever you wanted to see him. A month ago it seemed too recent to meet with him, but now it felt just about right.

Finally tonight, after having spent a full month trapped inside your house, you and your friend decide to meet up.

Both knew you needed to be cautious; you are a recently married woman —and he, an engaged man.

You decided to meet up downtown. You had an apartment there in one of the biggest hotels at the center of a prestigious but quiet district. You used it mostly to crash on when you partied regularly, so it was a familiar place to your guards. Yunho let you know he already booked one of the suits for the night, so he could just knock on your door without any trouble.

Yeosang hadn’t called for a few nights, apparently he was attending some business in Tokyo with both your father and his. It was the perfect timing.

The night arrived and you finally went out. As you got ready in front of the mirror in the bedroom, anticipation started to build as you waited for Yunho.

You changed into a casual dress, and your favorite jewelry; a long pearl necklace that ended up in the right place at your cleavage. Hair styled in a messy bun, the best hairstyle to try when you knew it was going to end up disheveled — a trick you learned from your mother’s long sessions in front of the mirror when you were maybe too young to even understand the tip.

You sprayed your favorite perfume on the right spots and poured a few drinks, preparing yourself to loosen up to finally enjoy a good night since you married, even if it wasn’t with your own husband.

Midnight, and Yunho hadn’t shown up. You started to get annoyed. Sending him a couple of texts like; ‘Where the fuck are you?.’ and ‘Are you serious right now?.’

You were growing impatient, desperate. He had said late night but this was just too much. And why wasn’t he answering your texts?.

You blew raspberries, lying back on the bed. Incorporating a little, you saw yourself in the tall mirror at the corner of the room. Your backless dress, makeup… you looked so good and now it was going to get to waste.

It was ridiculous that with all the power, money, a damn husband and a friend like Yunho, you were really struggling this much to get laid.

Being almost killed —again, having your family on your neck all the time, the pressure of the business and people — had to deal with, and an absent husband you barely knew on top of that was starting to get to you for good.

Grabbing your phone ready to call Yunho, something you would never do being in your right senses, you hear a knock on your door.

You sit on the bed automatically, fixing the wrinkles of your dress. “Fucking finally.”

Walking towards the door, you looked through the peephole, immediately taking a few steps back. The man at the door wasn’t Yunho.

“What is he doing here?,” you muttered to yourself.

“Are you going to open?.” Yeosang’s voice coming from outside made you come to your senses, he sounded different from the other times you two had spoken. Hesitating, you opened the door. His hair was down and parted in the middle, wavy strands falling at the sides of his ears. He was dressed casually, not in the usual business attire you have seen him in so far.

Yeosang walked in, closing the door behind him. You looked nervously around, feeling suddenly exposed by your little outfit, and he seemingly read your mind, as he took his sweet time looking at your clothes, or the lack of them.

“What are you doing here?.” you ask, trying to sound casual. Suddenly the thought of Yunho knocking on the door any moment made your stomach turn upside down. “Weren’t you in Tokyo?.”

“I remember telling you no to go out yet, so the question is what are you doing here?.”

You shrugged, feeling his gaze all over you. “I- was, going out…”

“If you wanted to fuck, you just had to ask,” he looked at you with a dark shine on his eyes. “I never told you you were allowed to be playing whore with other men, did I?”.

Your chest started to thump. This wasn’t the Yeosang you have known so far. He spoke harshly, but with a slight hurt pride that confused you.

“The fuck that’s supposed to mean?.” you glared back at him. “You haven’t talked to me properly since we married, you don’t even sleep at home.” you said, mimicking quoting the last word with your fingers. He glared at you too, walking towards you and hovering you against the wall. “Seriously, you won't even allow me one normal dinner and you think you have the right to tell me what to do?.”

“I'm your husband.” he said dryly, “That should be enough.”

“A husband who hasn’t even fucked his wife once.”

Yeosang scoffed. He looked at you with big eyes, deep brown eyes that shone differently from back when you saw them at the wedding. You were tense, that wasn’t what you wanted to reproach him for, but your brain was letting the words come out from your mouth without a second thought. “Were you waiting for that Jeong bastard to come here and fuck you? Are you that desperate?.”

“Yes. Maybe I fucking am.”

Just then, Yeosang tugged your chin with his hand, brushing the hem of your skirt with his fingers, slowly getting them underneath. His breath was hot and it burned against your neck. He leaned forward, brushing your throat with his lips, and then the tip of his tongue.

“Well look at you, being all eager.” He whispered with a voice so dark you couldn’t recognize it belonged to him.

His hand was now fully under your skirt, and his thumb brushed softly where you needed him the most. Your hips start rolling towards the contact, desperate for more friction. You pressed your lips together, restraining yourself from giving in so easily, but the truth was that you needed to be touched. Yeosang rolled his thumb over your damped spot, his gaze got cloudy, tongue resting on his bottom lip as he rubbed in circles on your clothed clit. He slides the lacy fabric to the side, gently pressing two fingers inside you.

You let out a whimper, biting your bottom lip. Surprised at how he knows exactly how to curl his fingers upward, his fingers caress your center so sweetly, feeling as familiar as your own.

“You feel just like I imagined.” He brushes his words over your lips, kissing you softly. His tongue finally lands against yours, sending tingles all the way to your lower stomach.

“You imagined?.” you moan against his mouth, and he slowly wraps his hand on your neck, making just the right pressure to make your closed eyes roll to the back of your head.

“Mmhh.” his voice vibrates over your lips, while he kisses you roughly and sloppily. He’s now adding a third finger deep inside you. You throw your arms at his neck and lift your leg onto his hip to give him more access. He grabs your leg with the hand that isn’t inside you, and continues fingering you with faster pace without stopping kissing you.

“Oh my god…” you cry when he begins scissoring and curling his fingers inside you. You let out a loud moan knowing you are done for and he stops kissing to see you as you come. His fingers keep going, gaze fixated on you as you shut your eyes and roll your hips making his fingers touch you even deeper. “Fuck, oh fuck!.” you whimper when he doesn’t stop and you start squirting all over his fingers. He looks down cheekily, seeing how you coat his fingers with your arousal.

Yeosang smiles, removing his fingers from inside you and making you open your mouth so you can taste yourself on them, when you finish he goes back to your lips, kissing you again. “So sweet.” he whispers, lowering your leg and helping you walk to the bed.

He makes you lay on your back, taking your panties off and throwing them aside. He lifts the skirt of your dress and places himself between your legs. “Let me taste more of that.” He says, licking your entrance with one strip, as he starts devouring you entirely until there’s no trace of your release but the sweet sensation inside you.

“Fuck, Yeosang.” you moan, feeling the familiar knot yet again. He keeps sucking on you, your hand tugging his hair from the overstimulation.

“Are you going to come again?.”

“Yes!.” you cry, but whine immediately after when he stops eating you up.

“Not like that.” He helps you get up, walking backwards as he sits on the armless chair next to your vanity, taking his belt off and opening the zipper on his jeans. He helps you sit on his lap, always looking at you as he does. Your heavy lids fall on him, admiring just how beautiful he is, and you wonder for a second if you have had a man like that before him.

Your mind is still foggy, you feel breathless but you indulge in his instructions, glad he’s telling you what to do next.

Yeosang guides you on top of him, and you observe patiently how he takes out his length and strokes himself a few times, making sure you look. He then tugs your dress down to expose your tits. He licks his bottom lip and goes to kiss one of them sweetly, one hand stroking himself and the other squeezing and licking your nips. You hear his quiet moans and whimpers, giving each of your breasts delicate attention. When he’s had enough, he aligns you on him and slowly pushes you until he has bottomed inside you.

“You really needed this huh?,” He chuckles darkly. “Such a tiny cunt.”

You whine at first, feeling stretched so deliciously for the first time in so long. You lean and kiss him, both your tongues tasting and savoring each other. The pearls of your necklace hang over his chest, the silver of your rings shine between his hair as you dishevel it. Yeosang squeeze and massage your nips with his palm as you take the time adjusting to his length inside you.

He stops kissing your nipple and signals you to look to the side, where you find both your reflections in the big mirror of your vanity, seeing your almost naked form sitting on his lap makes the sensation on your lower abdomen intensify. Yeosang slips your dress over your head, and you remove his jacket and unbutton his shirt hastily.

“Show me,” his tone is low, hoarse. He cups your chin with force, so you are now looking straight at him. You flutter your eyelashes confused. “What were you planning to do with him?.” he asks, heavy lids eying your bottom lip.

You bit your lip with force, somehow embarrassed that you already forgot you were supposed to be on top of Yunho. Yeosang smirks slightly, and even if the lights in the room are dim you catch that smile and it drives you mad how confident he is, but also makes you eager to show him.

“Yeosang, please” you whisper breathlessly, kissing him again. A big open kiss on the mouth first, then going down to his neck, his shoulder blades. You were marking every inch of skin your lips could reach in your position. It felt as if he could suddenly evaporate if you didn’t.

You start rolling your hips back and forth on top of him, moaning everytime the tip of his cock hits your sweet spot. Yeosang had both hands on your waist, keeping you in place as you rocked your hips at a slow but steady pace, not wanting to come too fast and just enjoy the sensation of having him buried deep inside you.

Yeosang’s whimpers quietly, but intensely. He lets a dry chuckle every time you remove yourself almost completely from him only to go down in one motion over and over. Your hands are on his hair, pulling the strands everytime the pleasure was too much.

He grabs your face and kisses you, biting your bottom lip and coating your entire mouth with his tongue, desperate to fill you connected to him in every way. He groans when you bite back, enjoying every little cry and whimper you let out. “All of this for him?,” he tugs your hair making you face him.

“Right now I’m fucking you and you only.” you tell him, eyes falling down on you unable to keep them open. “You fill me up so well.”

Yeosang smiled cockily, going to your clit and rubbing his thumb in circles again, making you bury your head on his neck. “Like that? Is that what you wanted?.”

“Yes!” you cried out loud, not caring at all if the guards outside could hear. His thumb and cock both send incredible sensations through your body, your release building up again ready to break out at any second. “Don’t stop please, I’m gonna-”

You couldn't finish, feeling the knot in your lower abdomen explode inside you. Yeosang was quick to grab your hips so you stayed in place, and he helped you rock them faster, chasing his own. He looked at your reflection in the mirror. Head thrown back, nails digging on his shoulders, eyes closed and mouth full of whimpers and heavy breathing. You came and Yeosang followed right behind you, letting out the loudest moan since you started. His hands were now on your ass as you wrapped your arms around his neck, having come from your high. He bit your shoulder as he painted your walls with his load. Yeosang cursed under his breath, finally stopping until he finished inside you.

“Yeosang,” you phanted, caressing his face and making him look at you. His eyelids were heavy, long strands of wavy black hair falling on his face, lips half open trying to catch his breath. “I needed that, fuck.” You waited until he was breathing regularly and kissed him roughly again, taking his breath away once more.

Yeosang smiled widely and you recognized the sweet man that you married a month ago. The same soft and cute eye smile and seemingly innocent aura came back, transforming from the one that was guiding your hips as you rode him to oblivion mere seconds before.

“I've wanted to have you on top of me since I saw you at the dinner,” He said sweetly, brushing his nose against yours. “Wanted to have you cry my name and brush away that condescending look you gave me at the wedding.”

You chuckled. “I didn’t know what to expect from you,” you paused, choosing your words carefully. “You seemed too nice for this kind of life, too pure.”

Yeosang chuckled lightly, helping you stand up, finally removing himself from you. “Seemed?” He kissed your chin gently. “Not anymore?.”

“Someone who fucks like this?, no way.”

He lets out a loud laugh, hand covering his mouth. “Y/n, you should know no man is pure. Crime life or not.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

You stood up from his lap, looking around for your panties on the floor, but Yeosang pulled you against him, wrapping his hands on your waist, hiding his face in the space between your shoulders and neck. He kissed the skin there and you hummed, content and relaxed feeling the warmth of his lips.

He guided you to the bed, laying beside you and leaning over you.

“Why didn't you want to spend time with me until now?.” you asked, his big eyes shone brightly. “I thought you were avoiding me on purpose, no one is that busy.”

Yeosang laughed. “Oh but I am. And soon you will be too, as my wife and associate, you will have to deal with a lot.” He lowered his eyes for a second. “I’m sorry I didn’t pay attention to you, I wanted to, but after what happened in Greece I needed to make sure you were always protected.”

“Did my father intervene?”

“I almost let his only daughter get killed mere days after our wedding, how does that make me look in front of him, of everyone?.”

You hummed but remained silent. You knew your father had already told him everything he needed to hear. “So I’ve been under surveillance all this time?.” You arch your brows, realizing that’s how he knew about your meeting with Yunho tonight. “Shit! Yunho… is he…?.”

Yeosang chuckled again and this time it was an amused one. “He’s not dead, I still need eyes and ears close to the police,” His lips turned upwards into a mischievous smile. “But he won’t dare to come close to you with certain intentions, ever again.”

“Oh.” you said, pouting. “But he’s an excellent tennis partner though.”

“I can be your new tennis partner, I can be everything you need me to be.”

Yeosang kissed you softly, thumb caressing your ear. Your hands traveled over his chest, throwing a leg over his waist and you smiled on the kiss. He let out a soft “Oh” like a shy boy getting his first kiss and it made your heart incredibly warm.

“Who would thought we only needed to fuck each other dumb to break the ice huh?”. You joked, letting him keep kissing your neck and start all over again.

©mingsolo / please do not edit, repost, translate

#yeosang fic #ateez fic #kvanity #cultofdionysusnet #pirateeznet #yeosang x reader #ateez x reader #fic tag #my fic #oneshot

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genericpuff · 5 months

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zoo wee mama, the new Hbomberguy video is a RIDE and it's absolutely relevant to everything going on in webcomics. let's talk about it.

youtube

I'm sure a lot of you have heard about this video going around already (it's gotten 2+ million views in just a little over 24 hours) but if you haven't, I highly recommend you set aside time to watch it yourself, I was surprised to see how much he had dug up especially regarding Youtubers that I never suspected were plagiarizing. He also says some very on-point stuff about how we view content creators and plagiarizing in this "do it yourself" industry that really resonated with me because it's stuff I've been saying for years in the webcomic sphere.

I won't spoil the video much because I think it's best experienced watching it for yourself (especially because he's putting all the money he earns off this video towards compensating the people who had their work plagiarized by one Youtuber in particular who's especially guilty... I'm not even gonna mince words, it's James Somerton) but this passage in particular just felt so validating to hear from someone who clearly holds themselves to the standards that more Youtubers - and creators in general - should be holding themselves to:

"I think a lot of people are inclined to protect creators they like on the grounds that plagiarism is a very academic-sounding problem, like something that happens in research papers or journalism, not something that you can do in a silly video made for entertainment purposes. Why are we holding Youtubers to standards? That would be like expecting accurate history from someone whose name has 'historian' in it! Because Youtubers often project a sense of being scrappy, do-it-yourself amateurs, it feels almost wrong to expect them to be professional... but a lot of them are professionals, regardless how authentic their persona may be. Youtubers are now among the most recognizable faces on the planet, and have become immensely wealthy doing this. Some are so influential we literally call them influencers. Maybe it's a good idea to have some standards for not stealing. Maybe." - Hbomberguy, "Plagiarism and You(tube)" timestamp: 3:35:32

Obviously this has nothing to directly do with webcomics but I do think it's something that reflects very similar behavior within the webcomic community that's, frankly, worth discussing. Many people justifiably want to make a living off their work, want webcomics as a whole to be taken more seriously in the mainstream next to traditional publishing, and for webcomic creators to be taken more seriously as professionals.

But at the same time, I still see a lot of infantilizing of the people in this industry, done by both their fans and the people within it, the idea that being a professional (noun) isn't mutually inclusive of being professional (adjective). It's how we've gotten creators in the past like Snailords, mongie, and yes, Rachel Smythe, who are often shielded by their fanbase on the basis of, "they're just indie comic creators doing what they love, leave them alone!" when they're very much not that, at least not anymore. At least two of those three creators have TV deals (though whether or not they'll make it to the screen is debatable), and all three of them have or have had Webtoons seemingly wrapped around their finger more so than any other creator (though mongie has argued she left Webtoons over unfair treatment, it really doesn't seem like that to the people who know how much mongie was intentionally pushing the rules of what she was allowed to post on the platform, particularly with her Sam x Charles smut).

They are not 'indie creators' anymore and they are not exempt from criticism just because their younger fanbase mistakenly assumes them to be the same age as them. Rachel, mongie, and Snailords are all in their mid-to-late 30's. They all have merchandising deals and either have TV deals or want to have TV deals. They've all been given priority advertising by Webtoons even at the cost of undercutting all the other creators and series on the platform that need it more. They are not "scrappy" creators, they're contractual professionals now and they all do not act like it. Whether it's reacting poorly to criticism or using their characters as a mouthpiece for their own egos or even just using their comics as a poorly disguised fetish, they're all contractual professionals who do not act professional. And they're not the only webcomic creators who do this.

And again, I've talked about this before on here and in the discussions on reddit concerning LO and other webtoons, so it's incredibly validating and refreshing to see Hbomberguy put those feelings into words (albeit about Youtubers, but let's be real, Webtoons is definitely trying to be the "Youtube of webcomics", as is Tapas and other competing webtoon platforms) because that sentiment rings true for a lot of the webtoon creators who have practically failed upwards and only forgo their advertised "professional status" when they're under fire for their actions and writing. Rachel is an "award winning creator" and "self-proclaimed folklorist" until her comic is criticized for its blatant misrepresentation and disrespect towards an entire culture, then all of a sudden "it's just fanfiction". Mongie is the creator of the bestselling series Let's Play until she's called out for racist depictions of Asians and Hispanic people in her work, then all of a sudden she's "just trying to make a fun comic" that's not meant to be taken that seriously. And of course, their audience of teens and young adults who don't know any better keep forgiving them and vehemently defending them because they wrongfully assume that these creators are scrappy teens just like themselves who just started making webcomics for fun and then achieved fame and glory overnight (which they're not!)

We should be having bigger discussions about what awaits the webcomic and "content creator" industry as a whole in the future and what standards we should be holding creators and their work to. We can't possibly expect these mediums to be taken seriously as a professional industry if we don't set better expectations for the quality of the work that's being created and the creators who are building these platforms for themselves.

"In current discourse, Youtubers simultaneously present as the forefront of a new medium, creative voices that need to be taken seriously as part of the 'next generation of media'... and also 'uwu smol beans little babies who shouldn't be taken seriously when they rip someone off and make tens of thousands of dollars doing it." - Hbomberguy, "Plagiarism and You(tube)" timestamp: 3:36:18

#hbomberguy #webtoon critical #anti lore olympus #lore olympus critical #lo critical #let's play critical #Youtube

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plazmafields · 4 months

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I've been trying to think recently why I find the age gap with V and Kerry to be endearing, when normally I feel an age gap over 10 years is problematic. Here's what I think:

(Long rambling ahead along with minor spoilers maybe)

There is a power imbalance between V and Kerry, in multiple ways. Kerry is much older, yes, but he also makes a lot more money. Like shit tons of money. The first time I romanced Kerry, I thought the romance arch was lacking because of the way Kerry never initiated. However, taking into account that V is 23, Kerry's tendency to wait for V to make the first move actually feels very appropriate.

Kerry's dealing with a lot of mixed emotions about Johnny being back. The fact that he never processed his inferiority complex while Johnny was alive, then as soon as Johnny died he jumped right into an ego-driven, spite-fueled solo career that took him straight to the top, and now Johnny's back as a digital parasite? And Kerry has a crush on his host?? Wild.

I think that's ONE of the reasons Kerry doesn't flirt with V outright: he's super confused about the way he feels about V, and whether or not those feelings are overlapping with the way he feels about Johnny. Is he so excited to see Johnny that he could just smooch him (platonic)? Is he simply grateful to V for pulling him out of a depressive episode? Is he still a little horny for Johnny like when they first formed Samurai? Is being attracted to someone 70 years younger than him the first sign of a life crisis starting? Maybe Kerry would rather be safe than sorry, and not act on his feelings for V while he's processing all that other stuff.

This shifts the power back into V's hands, who really doesn't have a lot of control over how the media will interpret their relationship, even if it remains platonic (vs. Kerry who has lawyers, and past experience with the media and dating while in the spotlight). This gives V the opportunity to decide if there are any romantic feelings there, instead of falling for the advances of someone very influential and rich. Those two facts could very easily convince someone that their starstruck reaction was actually love. This way, if V is in control of initiation, Kerry can be sure that he's not coercing V into starting anything they may not fully want; a relationship with ramifications V may not be fully aware of. He can be sure V's decision was not inadvertently rushed by anything Kerry may have said/done.

In our world, age gaps in gay relationships are not treated the same as they are in straight relationships, especially when it comes to gay men. I am not saying this is good or bad. But, it is a "trope", one could say, that younger gay men sometimes gravitate toward men many years older than them. I personally feel this is two fold: older gay men who are out publicly may find it hard to find others in their age range who are unashamed of their queerness, due to internalized social pressure. And younger gay men may find it difficult to navigate their sexuality on their own as it applies to daily life (specifically in American culture) and seek the guidance of veteran gays. If we translate that trend into the Cyberpunk world, where life expectancy is DECADES longer than ours, then perhaps Night Citizens wouldn't bat an eye at someone in their 20s dating someone in their 80s. (I'm sure that gap is stretching things a bit even for Cyberpunk standards, but maybe 30s dating 60s isn't uncommon.)

Another aspect of this is something they mention out right during Boat Drinks: Kerry doesn't act his age. He's getting there, but he's got the maturity of someone around V's age. I truly believe his stunted growth as a person is due to being constantly discredited and invalidated by Johnny. I mean, Kerry doesn't seem to have much in common with his former band mates, who have all moved on with their lives and found their versions of success (except maybe Henry). The people he gets along with best are a group of 20-something pop stars from a different part of the world, and V, also in their 20s. Kerry has been trying to prove himself for so long that his personality got stuck somewhere between starting Samurai and Johnny dying.

Lastly, I just wanna point out that V and Kerry's relationship as presented to us in game, with no outside context or deliberation, is inherently problematic. The age gap, the power imbalance, the wealth disparity, V possibly being a symptom of Kerry's three-quarter life crisis or a rebound or the second best thing to Johnny; Johnny being in the picture at all. A relationship doesn't have to be perfect for someone to like it, and it certainly doesn't reflect what they find acceptable in their own relationships. It's all fiction, it's all fantasy. If you want to theorize about how Kerry and V actually have a super healthy relationship, that's awesome! If you love the idea that they just kind of wound up together and this isn't a permanent situation for either of them, that's great! If you believe the relationship is completely toxic and you're loving the drama of it all, that's cool too!

With what the game has given us, and the fact that Kerry's writers' work could be interpreted in endless ways, I think the age gap was handled in such a way that it can be excused (or even played into) if you feel it works with your headcanon, or used as a catalyst for drama if that suits your imagination better. What's important is that it never feels predatory. And to me, that's good writing.

With my personal headcanon for my oc of V, I've decided his relationship with Kerry is perfectly passable. They're not a perfect couple, they lack communication skills and often butt heads over the other's tendency to put work over their relationship (both of them stubbornly insisting only the other one has a problem), but I like them that way.

#my laptop is being repaired so i cant play the game i just have to sit here thinking about it #cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk #cbp 2077 #cyberpunk2077 #cbp2077 #cbp77 #cyberpunk 77 #v cyberpunk #v x kerry #male v #male v x kerry #johnny silverhand #johnny x kerry #kerry x v #kerry eurodyne

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gemsofgreece · 8 months

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would love to hear from a real Greek on the subject of Katharevousa. What do you think of it? Are there some conflicting opinions between the older and younger generations on this matter? What is the general Greek opinion? is it simply viewed as an elitist ideology for purists or an inspiring dream to reinstate Ancient Greek? sincerely, a humbly curious non-Greek individual...

Hello, my friend! You bring up an interesting and very complex topic. I would say my opinion on this is less passionate, more moderate than of the average Greek and ironically this also means my opinion might seem edgy to the average Greek!

That is because a majority of Greeks loathe Katharevousa (or what they think it stands for), with older generations being more neutral whereas younger generations can express a very baffling fierce hate towards it, despite never having to study it.

The reasons for this hate are the following:

1. It is harder than Demotic and most Greeks have an allergy at whatever Greek-related presents even the slightest of additional challenge to them.

2. Its existence has been relentlessly and unfairly politicised since the early 20th century, when the historical national and then transformed into political disunity of the Greeks was channeled into many things, including painting those who were positive towards katharevousa as nationalists, fascists and extreme far rights in general.

*The second reason bleeds into the first, in some ways. Young Greeks will unironically say “why should I learn something Greek that needs a little more effort or even slightly resembles something ancient, am I a nationalist or anything?”. That is because the old Great Division of the 20s and the Civil War of the 40s were never actually fully resolved but only passed on through political tensions, and thus somewhat mollified, yet still causing significant problems in the society which are now much harder to explain and find the root cause for, so they seem to appear out of nowhere. This leads to new generations of Greeks opposed to studying properly the Greek history and Greek culture and feeling very proud of their liberal (???) choice until a conversation with a foreigner who appears to know more about them than they do embarrasses them and sometimes gives them a wake-up call. Of course, not all young Greeks are like that, but a lot are.

In any case, I am not saying I prefer Katharevousa to Demotic. I prefer Demotic for the simple reason that it is the organic evolution of the Greek language, influenced by the actual history of the Greeks rather than the history the Greeks wished they had. For this alone, it wins. What I am saying is that Katharevousa does not deserve all the fierce hate and that I would honestly not mind having it used occasionally for whatever reason, just like I wouldn’t mind using any other form of the Greek language for whatever reason. And I do not confuse various forms of the language with various political ideologies, despite others doing so. Which is very much true by the way. During the national schism, Katharevousa was accused as the symbol of royalists, nationalists and conservatives on one side whereas Demotic was accused as the symbol of communists and Venizelists from the other side. In the 20s, Greek schools would change the lingual form taught every time the power changed hands. A tragedy for the students, really.

Katharevousa was originally NOT founded on an elitist ideology but rather on a sentiment of ethnic uprising. The term for this lingual movement first appears in 1796 and thus precedes the Greek Independence from the Ottoman Empire. It was supported by many Greek scholars and influential people of the time, most of all Adamantios Korais. Katharevousa is not an attempt at reinstating Ancient Greek but an attempt of removing all the influences in the contemporary Greek language by an empire Greeks were unwilling and often rebellious subjects of. Katharevousa means exactly that, “getting purified - cleaned”, not going back. Of course, it did not only remove Turkish elements, but Latin and Slavic ones and anything else for which there was an original Greek root and was thus considered redundant. By removing the foreign loanwords from Modern Greek, you automatically bring it to a state closer to Ancient Greek without meaning that it is an actual more ancient form of the language. The Katharevousan grammar certainly tried to resist simplifications and changes taking place in Demotic Greek but it still remained an essentially Modern rather than Ancient Greek grammar. I believe the syntax was also closer to Modern. In the end, Katharevousa was like a very posh, exclusively Greek-root, old-fashioned way to speak Modern Greek.

Which is why I dislike it when the “competition” of demotic and katharevousa is often referred to as “diglossia” which means “bilingualism” or when they are even called different idioms. We are not talking about two different Greek languages here and I am quite baffled when people claim to struggle to understand katharevousa. Honestly, at this point I don’t even believe they really mean it. You see, the level of education nowadays, with all its faults, is infinitely better than what it was at the time when katharevousa was actually taught at schools. In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, most kids wouldn’t even complete elementary school and then go work to some farmland so it makes total sense for them to struggle to adjust to katharevousa when they were only really communicating in basic demotic in real life. But for people nowadays claiming the same, I can’t take them seriously, I am sorry. Such things are connected. If a student of decent education by today’s standards can’t understand katharevousa, it can only mean they face really fundamental challenges in demotic as well.

Katharevousa did not intentionally marginalize lower social classes within the society itself but the unintentional challenges were inescapable due to the poor level of education I described. In the end, Katharevousa was used by the authors and poets, in the newspapers and later the TV and radio news, in written forms, such as official documents, even in personal letters. Regardless of their level of education, people tried in written form to apply as many katharevousan elements as possible, to the extent of their knowledge. In everyday speech, though, things were different. People would simply talk in the way that came most natural and effortless to them. It’s very interesting that in very old movies, if there is a narrator, you can observe that the narrator speaks in a mild more katharevousa-like form while the actors playing the roles use demotic, obviously because otherwise the ending result wouldn’t be very realistic to the people watching. However, rich Greeks and aristocrats would more often speak in katharevousa too, exactly because they could receive much better education and get the hang of it, inevitably making this a social issue without it ever intending to be one. And then of course it had also the politics of the country imposed on it secondarily, which is a very sad and unfair equation that handicaps Greek progress in all matters.

What happened with Katharevousa and Demotic is not an unprecedented occurrence in Greek at all. This is literally Greek's constant lingual history. It can be observed in Ancient Greek, as the Classical Attic you may have read was in no way identical to the everyday language Ancient Greeks spoke. Throughout all the East Roman / Byzantine Era, scholars would try desperately to retain as many archaic elements as possible, to the growing impatience of the populace. While its full achievement was always doomed to be a lost cause, let’s also acknowledge that the reason Greeks boast about how conservative Greek is for a language so old would not exist, if all those scholars throughout the centuries did not struggle to preserve older elements, and katharevousa’s case is not different. A few of its elements have actually passed to demotic, such as phrases and expressions in the dative, even though this case has been dropped in the Demotic Greek grammar otherwise.

In the seventies, after huge political changes taking place in the country which struggled to finally enjoy some peace and quiet, katharevousa was abolished along with the monarchy and the dictatorship as another sign of nationalism, conservatism, anachronism and so on. In my opinion, a lingual form on its own does not deserve to be vilified like this.

Nowadays, you will hear just about anything as an accusation to prove how evil Katharevousa was. Some say it had “mistakes” because it was an academic process of reshaping the language against its natural, organic evolution. I would consider this, had it not been for demotic also having some funny shortcomings of its own. In case you are wondering what such a shortcoming can possibly be in a language - well, as Greek keeps evolving, some things change first while others stay behind. The elements that stay behind have trouble adjusting for practical or aesthetical or other reasons. Here is one example:

Modern Greek faces a hilarious problem with the verb εκρήγνυμαι (ekríghnime - I explode). It is a verb with a distinct archaic form which is super ugly to a violating degree if you adjust it to the modern Greek conjugation of the simple past. As a result the ancient formation of the simple past is fully retained, which is not irregular but it is hard enough that it appears irregular by modern standards (εξερράγην - exerráyin - no it’s not irregular!). As a result many people might not know it and mess it up entirely by trying to apply modern formations which will earn them mocking later if it's on TV or paper (ie εκρήχτηκα - ekríhtika - can kill you instantly if it comes from the mouth of a journalist) or you are going to see it on their face real-time that they go through the five stages of grief and seven consecutive panic attacks as they try to say “it exploded” without actually saying “it exploded”! Even more hilariously, the screenshot I added shows all the conjugations by labelling them “for scholar use” and it adds another label clarifying that only the third person of singular and plural are actually regularly used (apparently needed when speaking for bombs) and the others are avoided as much as possible. In short, we try not to use the past of a simple verb such as “explode” because we have no idea how to say it because adjusting it to modern is so monstrous that you have no solution other than keeping it entirely ancient, in a phrase otherwise entirely modern! It is actually very funny.

I said all these in order to stress how people trying to find unacceptable “flaws” in katharevousa are hypocritical because if we accept that a concept such as “flaws” is possible in a language, then it does exist in organic demotic as well. On the other hand, it also depends on the speaker. Katharevousa supporters varied in their ferocity and whereas most just kept it at the "purifying modern" object, some others tried to mix it with actual Koine or Attic Greek, undoubtedly causing lingual teratogenesis.

Some last notes: katharevousa is not entirely extinct. It is used by a newspaper, it is the language used by the Churches of Greece and Cyprus and by the Ecumenical Patriarchate of Constantinople, as it resembles more Koine (Biblical) Greek which is their actual sacred language. Some people show it off on internet comments but you can usually (not always) guess their political ideologies which is unfortunate. Ironically though, Modern Standard Greek, which is the common language we speak right now, is according to linguists considerably influenced by the katharevousa in its mixing with demotic. So, standard Greek, even though it derives from Demotic and it is technically Demotic Greek, is closer to Katharevousa than the Demotic of the 20th century is.

Another interesting point is made by Georgios Babiniotis, the currently most prominent Greek linguist. An unlikable guy if you ask me, but I can’t help but agree with this point. Although the polytonic stress system was abolished along with katharevousa with the reasoning that it served no point in Modern Greek, Babiniotis says that this was a mistake, as the monotonic system has surprisingly caused a deterioration of the musicality and correct articulation in Modern Greek. In fact, anyone who knows can go watch kids reciting poems in school and you will realise it is true. I am not putting myself out of this. Sometimes I read something loudly and I think to myself “heck in my mind this sounds so much better, why am I reciting it so poorly?!”. Even though I actually have a perfect articulation up to this stage in my life, my reciting is bland like of most people, while it wasn’t the case at all with the people in the near past. You can hear the difference when you hear actors of the 50s and actors in movies now. Both spoke in demotic, but actors of the 50s spoke much more beautifully on so many levels, including intonation and articulation. This agrees with a post I made recently unknowingly when on my own I realised that the grave accent is actually retained in modern Greek when spoken animatedly or carefully and correctly. I was almost scared to publish that post because I am no linguist but I was excited to see that the -always otherwise unlikable- Babiniotis said this too! Few liked that post - dunno if everyone hated it or it was just a huge post published at 5 am. Or both. Aaaaaanyways, I am linking it here in case anyone has reached so far down and is interested.

To summarise, Katharevousa was the victim of the insane political infighting that is such a trademark of the Greeks. It was founded on ethnical rather than elitist reasonings. It wasn’t trying to exclude anyone even though this might have indeed happened unintentionally. It is still Modern Greek. I don’t believe it should ever eradicate Demotic, however I value its existence and I think it could have a place of application and people should be free to use (within reasonable context) or enjoy it without being vilified or immediately have their political beliefs assumed. I personally find it beautiful but I also find Demotic beautiful, just in different ways. In some occasions I prefer one and in others the other. I enjoy prose and poetry in Katharevousa, it’s bloody beautiful. But use of rich and intricate demotic is also insanely wonderful. Both are great and I genuinely feel this way. I can get behind the reasoning that if a foreign loanword doesn't sound very aesthetically pleasing in the Greek language, it shouldn't be considered weird or eccentric to prefer the Greek-root word and give up on the loanword. I have used this example before, if the loanword is "dudúka", while two Greek-root words of the exact same meaning exist ("tilevóas" and "megháphono"), then why the heck would I want to use "duduka"?! No offense to the language that it comes from, but this word... I mean, come on. It doesn't sound good at all in Greek. Same with the grammar. If someone can use more intricate and complex grammar, why should we immediately blame them for doing what they can do? Come on, guys.

#greece #greek language #languages #linguistics #langblr #language stuff #modern greek #katharevousa #demotic #greek history #greek culture #anon #ask #tw long #tw long text

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faulty-writes · 1 month

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Perhaps this is more of a question than a request, as I want to hear your opinion on this. First of all, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your wonderful writings for Tenya. They give me a lot of serotonin, as you describe this boy just awesome. I kiss your golden hands and your forehead. You're just a miracle!

And now the very question. Most likely, you know that in Japan it is quite strict with interracial relationships and marriages. Especially from influential families. And I was interested in your opinion on this. What if romantic feelings can flare up between a foreign!reader and Tenya and/or Shoto, but how will their families react to this? I remember you wrote that Iida's mother and brother would even be happy and support this, since reader was interested in Tenya. Or can something change? With Todoroki, it seems to me that his brother and sister will be very happy, since Shoto is somewhat withdrawn. I can't say for sure about his parents, but it seems to me that Rei would be very intrigued, but Enji...I don't know.

That's it! Thank you for reading my question and my thoughts. If my question makes you uncomfortable, then delete it and forget it like a nightmare. Thanks again!

Alright, sorry for the wait. Thank you for enjoying my writing, my Tenya pieces are quite popular. I'm actually working on another one right now for another writing bang, so that should be fun. This post will go under 'read more' because it's kind of long.

It is time for my psychology student skills to shine! I want to say that every culture has its own beliefs and values. These beliefs and values usually reflect traditional aspects, which means conflicts will always exist when modern beliefs and values are introduced.

According to Nitta (1988), interracial relationships and intermarrying between Japanese men and non-Japanese individuals have steadily increased since 1975. I anticipate the only conflict that would arise from the Iida family if Tenya had romantic feelings for or was in a relationship with a foreign!reader would come from his father.

According to the show, Tenya's father adheres to traditional values, and traditionally, the man is in charge of the household and the family, which means his values and beliefs are constantly imposed on the other family members. It is safe to assume that Tenya's father's pride in the Iida family history has also rubbed off on him.

This is shown throughout the series because Tenya enjoys praising the Iida family name. There is, however, evidence that Tensei is not necessarily following these traditional values and beliefs, as depicted in one episode where we see a flashback into Tenya's past which shows a scene of him, his brother, and his father sitting at the dinner table.

It's during this scene their father praises Tensei for his heroism, as well as the number of sidekicks he has following him. However, Tensei does not fully accept the praise, stating that he could not have achieved his status as a hero without the assistance of his sidekicks. Additionally, it is evident how much Tenya looks up to Tensei. Therefore, I believe that Tenya's beliefs are largely influenced by his older brother. Accordingly, I believe that Tenya's mother and brother would be willing to accept whatever romantic venture Tenya chooses to pursue, regardless of whether it is with a foreigner or not.

Of course, Tensei would be the most supportive, asking the foreign!reader all kinds of questions regarding their country of origin. It is also likely that he would thank them for taking an interest in his younger brother. Tenya's mother would also demonstrate this type of support, as she is likely only concerned about her son's happiness. Because of her husband's traditional ways, I also believe that she would remain friendly, but not to the point of provoking confrontation with her husband who is likely to disapprove of the relationship.

As with the Iida family, I believe that the only point of conflict for Shoto getting involved with a foreign!reader would, of course, be Enji. Although I believe Enji holds some beliefs and values about traditional aspects, his possible disapproval of his son's relationship with a foreigner would likely stem from what he wants from Shoto. Furthermore, he is likely to worry that any type of relationship, romantic or otherwise, will interfere with his son's ability to become a hero.

However, it is also possible that due to Enji's desire to improve himself as a father and husband, he may accept whatever relationship Shoto chooses to pursue even if he does not approve of it because of his deep-rooted fear of being abandoned by his family. It is well known that Shoto's sister, Fuyumi, is very accepting of her brother. This is evident in one episode where she thanks Izuku for befriending Shoto. She knows he is antisocial and needs a relationship to help him grow.

I believe that Rei would have the same mindset. Although she had previously been afraid of Enji, it is evident that she is a fierce woman who will do anything to protect and support her family. In other words, even if Enji disagreed with Shoto's relationship with a foreign!reader, she would take it with a grain of salt. She would encourage Shoto to continue to follow his heart. As for Natsuo, I believe that he would also be accepting, although less accepting than Fuyumi and his mother, and more protective. Likely, he would ask a few questions about the reader and be prepared to intervene if they hurt his younger brother.

#faulty writes; asks

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sznofthesticks · 29 days

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How did YOU get into 911ls rachel? 👀

if you could write one episode of season 5, what would it include? (back atcha)

what is your favorite cuisine and one food in that cuisine you hate; and what is your LEAST favorite cuisine and one food in that cuisine you LOVE

what's your favorite pastime/hobby outside of fandom? (back atcha)

what is your favorite season 👀 is it... winter... *shot*

more photos of cats please! 🥰

How did YOU get into 911ls rachel? 👀

okay so i started with OG 911, i watched from the very beginning when season one aired until season 5 and just became uninteresting (season 5 was... bad...) but rewatched spring 2023 because my sister wanted to watch it. and enjoyed it much more that time around. and then over the summer i was sick and couldnt leave my house for a week so i decided to watch lone star AND MY LIFE WAS FOREVER ALTERED. (i realize im a very late fan pls forgive me)

i was hesitant to watch lone star because some people in the OG 911 fandom are very mean towards this show and it's fans. (i've distanced myself from those people. i adore this show and have met the loveliest people on here because of this show.)

if you could write one episode of season 5, what would it include?

okay this is gonna be all over the place. marjan has a comphet realization and does some self discovery and we get some sapphic rep from her. not saying they have to make her have a girlfriend, but just some realization and being an openly queer, muslim, female firefighter in texas would be EVERYTHING to me.

nancy backstory. i've written a little about my thoughts on her backstory and want to write more. but i say she comes from a rich, influential family, but they're distant to her and put alot of pressure on her growing up and her sister is the only one she stays in contact with.

for tarlos. let them fuck nasty. (okay i realize we can't have that on network television).

realistics. carlos gets injured on the job or while trying to solve gabriel's murder and we get him in a coma in a hospital bed and tk is anxious and crying by his bedside (WE DESERVE IT. CARLOS HAS BEEN IN THAT SPOT TWICE. IT'S TK'S TURN)

what is your favorite cuisine and one food in that cuisine you hate; and what is your LEAST favorite cuisine and one food in that cuisine you LOVE

okay, so fair warning. white woman, who grew up in a small town, and still lives in that small town. and my mom was a terrible cook. im slowly trying to immerse myself in foods from other cultures now that im an adult. but there is not an option for restaurants of anything other than americanized chinese and theres no ethnic grocery options here either, so i try my best. and i feel like finding recipes is so hard. i never know what to look for as a beginner.

i really don't know if this counts as a cuisine, but my aunt always cooked Pennsylvania Dutch foods (which is kind of a derivative of german so that i guess?) but my least favorite of that would be scrapple or pickled beet eggs. both are 🤢

since that probably doesn't count, italian. i love chicken/eggplant parm or lemon risotto (im probably offending so many italians rn)

i can't say i have a least favorite cuisine? i'll say the one i've least delved into. i hope this doesn't upset you, but .... indian ... I KNOW IM SORRY. I REALLY WANT TO TRY MORE THO I NEED TO FIND SOME BEGINNER RECIPES TO TRY AND HOPE I CAN FIND THE INGREDIENTS HERE. but i do loveeeee chicken tikka masala and garlic naan. like the most basic answer. im so so sorry tessa. :(

what's your favorite pastime/hobby outside of fandom?

i love music and everything about it. i go with my sister to live events quite a bit. we love concerts but also going to sporting events. mostly football and baseball!

what is your favorite season 👀 is it... winter... *shot*

hahahah. fall! i miss real fall, like when i was younger. now it just goes from being super hot to cold. not much fall anymore. :( as much as i hate living in a rural area, its beautiful here in the fall <3

more photos of cats please! 🥰

okay it’s mostly pepper because she’s attached at my hip and puffy is more independent lol

#asks #ladytessa74

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ignis-writes · 2 years

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By Chance, By Choice

Summary: Summary: Will Syverson and y/n find love during hard times in an alliance made to keep the peace? (im bad at summaries)

Pairing:mob boss!Logan Syverson x female reader

Word count: around 1.7K

Warning: mob and stuff like that, mentions of fight bloodshed, arranged marriage. angst, fluff, and hardcore smut in future parts

A/N: This chapter is just an introduction to the universe from the reader's pov. English is not my first language and this fic is Not beta'd like everything else on this page. So look out for obvious mistakes

Image credits: Pinterest

Even if u don't like this, please comment, would be a great help to improve

*No permission is given of reposting, copying my work or ideas and parts from it and claiming it as your own*

Arranged marriage AU -

Mob Boss AU

Chapter 1

The Engagement

An Arranged marriage? It sounded ridiculous and impractical. But belonging to a mob family that had been around the blood business for so long, I've heard it often, especially around my eldest brother's marriage. Back then it felt like an alternate option if tinder doesn't work, but right now I'm close to no option.

From a third-person perspective, It was like, everything was handed to me on a silver plate, and to a point it was true. Being the daughter of an influential man, and being raised in a wealthy family I did not have many struggles compared to an average person. But the problem with the silver plate is that it comes chained to your arms. This chain essentially limited my freedom to choose many things for myself, from where I studied to what I wore. And now who I married.

So when my father casually broke the news of this proposal at the dinner and asked for my opinion, I was not surprised. And by the looks exchanged between my brothers, Jude and Milan, It was clear that I shouldn't have a bad opinion for starters. This was not a proposal but a promise, a promise made on my life without my knowledge or consent. A promise put together by two mobsters for god knows what purpose. A business agreement? A peace treaty? I was yet to find.

The Syversons were a familiar name in the underworld. The man I was supposed to marry was Logan Syverson, the old Don's younger son and only heir since the passing of his father and the murder of his elder brother Richard. Richard's death created a series of shootouts and gang wars which led to a fiasco that called for immediate negotiations and peace. Plus Syverson shared his high school and college days with my second brother, so they were pretty close even after all these years. This is all I knew about the man I was supposed to marry and his family. Still, I got ready to meet him and his family since my father had way too much hope in this alliance and he even went to the extent of thinking we would make an excellent couple. That was the clue, father wasn't just wagering a business deal, he wanted to "join the families " or whatever it meant.

____________

The night before my engagement to him or my first time meeting my future husband, I couldn't sleep and had mixed feelings about him, about the marriage, and its aptitude for building anything more than a peace treaty between 2 groups of influential people. I wondered if I will like the stranger of a fiancee. A part of me feared it was probably gonna be another faux excuse for marriage, like Jude and Catherine. Even though they were lovely individuals with much kindness and love in their hearts they didn't work well as a team. On the other hand. I had my parents and their extraordinary bond to look up to. They loved cherished and respected each other and set a great example for their 4 kids to follow. Once I heard Uncle Benjin say they hit the jackpot when it came to an arranged marriage while toasting to the well-being of their relationship on its 25th anniversary, that was 10 years ago when I was 15.

I kept tossing and turning in my bed for a few more hours so I went down to the kitchen to grab a drink, maybe if I had enough alcohol to doze off my system, I could fall asleep. Stupid thought actually, I was more likely to stay up if I drank. So I opened the fridge instead, to find ice cream. There was always some ice cream in this fridge. When I was around 5-6 used to sneak out with my brother to get some sweets past midnight, but pappa would catch us. He was never mad at us once he even joined our Lil ice cream adventure with his own share of choco chip cookies dipped in a warm glass of milk. It was our lil guilty pleasure. But this time for a change I saw my mamma, she stood by the kitchen window looking out into the vineyard.

"Mamma? "

"Oh honey, you can't sleep either? "

"yeahhh. I'm glad I have company, maybe a lil ice cream would help?

"sit down you, I'll get the ice cream"

she turned to the fridge in a hurry before I managed to turn up the lights, and a tear? Was she crying? For what???

Knowing my mom, if I asked she would get annoyed further so I didn't ponder it any further. We sat together with the ice cream and talked about the past, not anything serious but all the silly stupid things I and my brothers did as kids, and giggled at some really awkward memories. We purposefully avoided talking about that time when pappa got shot and we had to move away for some time. After all, weren't trying to send away any hopes of sleeping tonight, and when silence fell again I asked.

"ma, I don't know what it is but you know you can talk to me, right...…"

"Oh it's nothing honey, it's just " her eyes were damp again.

"It's just I always felt like you never liked this lifestyle, the constant fear, instability and everything bad that came with the money and power… *sigh * I didn't get to choose who I married, but fortunately I married a good man. Together we made a family brick by brick. It was not easy, we took it slow and steady. Had to pretend at some part, had to turn a blind eye, forget and forgive but the efforts were mutual, we fell in love with each other.

But for you, I hoped better, like you could choose your life, your husband, and ever since your pappa came up with this proposal I had this impending feeling that like you would have chosen to marry outside this society if it was your call. Even cut all ties with this dangerous world and move out to somewhere peaceful, and…and normal. So yeah..." She wiped another drop of tear and continued "Im sorry we had to lock u right back into this world where mothers start every day with the fear of not seeing their children and husband ever again... it's terrible, really"

For a second I didn't know what to say, but I couldn't leave her in the silence either so I said, just for the sake of saying anything

"Oh mamma, you don't worry about that for a moment. I am your daughter, I will not just let somebody's arrangement decide the course of my life. And about getting out of this world, I was born here but never a part of it. Always a bystander to whatever went on in the name of the "family business" always a wallflower. I hated it of course, by trying my best not to see too much, not to let it bother me. my life was good so far ma, it will be good in the future cuz it was and will always be my decision to keep my happiness. So My marriage will be good, or I will make it good. " I said smiling

No matter what I said, no matter how confident I sounded It was confusing, the hour was late and my mind was still wandering but after a few minutes with mamma, I felt like I could nod off for a while.

__________

The engagement went well, well…not uneventfully well. I wore a simple pink dress and waited in my room, Catherine was there to help me calm down my nerves. She said she knew him, not well enough but she said he wasn't a bad guy maybe it was true, maybe it was true. Maybe she just wanted me to calm down. When pappa led me to the hall he was silent except for the kind smile he offered me but his face was optimistic.

The hall was decorated in pink and white flowers and laces. The delicate sound of the piano kept humming a familiar tune. Not many people stood there, just his family, the closest of his friends, and mine. He was already there when I walked down the stairs, he must have seen me first because when I spotted him his eyes were already on me. Damm, he was handsome.

Some part of me wished I could meet him sooner. But another part of me was still a bit anxious. Finally, we got engaged, shook hands, and talked a bit....a lot. He was taller than I expected and well built. His eyes were many hues of blue with an isle of brown.

'Cute. My kids are gonna have those eyes' I caught myself thinking. wait, what???? I met this man 5 mins ago and I was already planning kids and their eye color. There is seriously something wrong with me.

As soon as the crowd around us took off to socialize with others, he asked me if he could get me a glass of champagne. Sure he might have noticed me not standing still and shifting weight from leg to leg. So we sat down by the balcony and he got me my glass. The fact that he served in the army as a captain back when Richard and his dad ran the business was new to me. He asked if I was okay, with this... This means the marriage and him. He was a good listener, he let me talk and paid attention. He seemed friendly and polite. Altogether a nice guy but still a stranger. Some part of me hoped this sweet demeanor was not just an act.

My parents and his mom's brother, ( who first approached my dads with this proposal) were in a hurry to get us married so the wedding was fixed 2 weeks away from the engagement. Wow. It was too fast, and I was quite stressed as it was. The ceremony would be a gathering for the so-called superiors of the mob world. I would be able to call my best friend Vivienne, that's it. No one else. But what intimidated me was the haste around getting this done, why this rush, were they preparing for something else? The silence and the haste surrounding the engagement and the wedding gave me an eerie sensation, one strong enough to wonder if I was walking into a trap.

Or Maybe I can walk into a fairytale.

I went to bed replaying the conversation we had. It felt comforting, but not enough. I wanted to see him again, talk to him, and dance with him. That night I fell asleep quicker than I expected with a silent smile upon my face and a hopeful warmth filling my soul.

'It's gonna be alright ' I told myself

#henry cavill #captain syverson #mob!boss syverson #mob au #captain syverson fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #chris evans #arranged marriage

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eretzyisrael · 6 months

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(H/T bilgisticallykosher)

“I am under no illusion as to how quickly that will happen. In fact, let me offer a reality check on the actual number of “peace loving” peoples in this region. First, note that on Saturday, October 7, before Israel undertook any military response to Hamas’ depravity – at a time when the whole world knew about the music festival killing fields and the kidnappings of children and the frail elderly (because Hamas proudly distributed video footage of such) – not a single Arab country condemned the barbarity, nor did a single influential Islamic authority declare the atrocities war crimes according to Islamic law. And they haven’t since. They should have been mortified by the behavior of their brethren and co-religionists. They were not. Nor were their counterparts throughout the world – including those who signed anti-Israel letters and demonstrated on American Ivy League campuses against the Jewish State. All too many rationalized or even celebrated the barbarity, recasting it as a form of heroism.

“Then there are the Palestinians themselves. What happened this past weekend was not an aberration. It was of one piece with their terrorist history: slaughtering school children in Maalot, taking the Israeli athletic team hostage in the Munich Olympic “Peace” Village, tossing wheel-chair bound Leon Klinghoffer overboard the Achille Lauro, etc., etc. and turning the perpetrators into national heroes – all before Hamas was founded in 1987. It should come as no surprise that in poll after poll, Hamas has done very well among the entire Palestinian population – not only among those living in Gaza (64%), but among those in Judea and Samaria (58%). Needless to say, the rest of their respective populations are hardly pro-peace. Rather, they spread their loyalties among Islamic Jihad, Fatah, and other Jew-hating political parties. Moreover, as indicated by the polls, the younger the Palestinians, the more radical their views. Accordingly, the overwhelming majority of Palestinians are complicit in both regimes’ perverse crimes. Though some Palestinians might be better than the state-trained and dispatched butchers who overran southern Israel just over a week ago, most have wanted the leadership they’ve got, celebrated and funded the terrorists they’ve raised, and embraced the ideology that drives them. Accordingly, they are suffering the consequences of their own choices for themselves and their children. They are not innocent.

“As to where this complicit population should go, let’s remember that when – for no defensible reason – the Arab states of the region expelled their millennia-old Jewish populations in the late 1940’s and ‘50’s, the cash-strapped, fledgling Jewish state welcomed their 800,000 refugee Jewish brethren. The much better situated Arab world – with its vast territories, natural resources, and indescribable wealth – could do the same for its own. Do you know why they don’t and why Hamas deliberately chose this strategy? Because they knew that only Miriam Cohen and Bruce Ginsburg would stay up at night worrying about it. That is our nature as Jews. And I take pride in it. But that strength is also our weakness. The worst threat now – not only to Israel’s existence and the potential for world peace – might well be the hand-wringing and adoption of moral equivalence as an “ethic” among progressive American Jews. Such self-flattering Jewish responses might well weaken the crucial moral resolve of our non-Jewish friends.

#american jews #hand-wringing #hamas #gaza #palestinians #terrorism #war

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s1lvermane-capt · 4 months

Note

An envelope is on your desk. A familiar stamp is on it, marking it as from your informant. Finally! You’ve been waiting to hear back from them for a while. You open it, and eagerly read the letter inside.

————————————————————————

Gepard Landau,

This “Gepo-Sampard fan club” you asked me to look into… It seems Pela may be the founder of the whole thing. Bronya is a member, as are several members of your guard and the Trailblazer. There are also several members from the general population. Oddly, there are a few names I don’t recognize. I suspect you may have some off-planet admirers, as unlikely as it may seem.

Information is surprisingly hard to come by, though - even for me. I suspect this is due to the number of influential people in their ranks.

As for those ‘Jenn and Mandy’ girls you asked me to background check, their info came back clean. They are who they say they are. Pela did hire people matching their descriptions, and they are working on the sex ed program. However, it seems you are the only person whose sexual preferences were questioned.

Jennifer Allison Heron, or “Jenn”, is an Overworlder. 22 female. She lives with her parents and younger sisters. Appears to have a regular nine-to-five job at the library. Normal childhood with a middle-class family. Two younger twin sisters and an older brother. Her parents are alive and happily married. She has no criminal record.

Mandy’s information was harder to come by, most likely due to her being from the Underworld.

Madison Amanda or “Mandy” is probably around 20-21. Her birthdate wasn’t recorded; just the year. It’s unclear if Amanda is her last name or just her middle name. She was raised by a single mother with no recorded father. Seemingly no siblings. Works at a connivence store in the Overworld. Currently lives in a small apartment nearby her workplace. No criminal record - though I suspect that’s more due to the Underworld’s lack of a cohesive record system than anything.

They have no connection prior to joining the project and becoming members of the fan club. It is unclear which happened first to introduce them or if they were already familiar with each other.

You are not the only one to inquire about this Gepo-Sampard fan club of yours. My sources say Sampo Koski has been asking around as well, though he seems to be more amused than alarmed. He took one of the flyers off a wall, though he has yet to contact anyone.

I hope this helps.

Anonynomous

————————————————————————

—Fan Club Anon

Gepard read the letter, making sure not to skip over a single detail. He was surprised to say the least, when he heard that Pela founded the Gepo-Sampard club. He could also feel his cheeks slightly warm up at the fact that Bronya and even a few Trailblazers had joined the club..

What would he say now? And if they found out that him and Sampo... He tried to wave away the embarrassing thoughts from his brain.

The fact that Jenn and Mandy had only asked him about his sexual preferences, maybe he should have predicted that with the new club going around.. But it gave him relief to know that neither of them were actually criminals. At least, for Mandy, that she hopefully wasn't a criminal, as her records reportedly say.

As for Sampo, he'd perhaps have to try to discuss something with him about the club. But with how he was reacting, it didn't seem like he was very affected by the situation as the captain was.

He really needed to start taking down those posters soon when he has more time in the city. He'd just hope that Madam Bronya would give him some more time to patrol there, rather than in the Restricted Zones.

#fan club anon i hope you know im very amused with all the rps you give me -mod #not that im not amused with other anon's asks -mod #but urs is so intricate yet it all just leads back to the goal of literally shipping sampard AHAHAHAH -mod #gepard #gepard landau #honkai star rail #hsr rp #hsr gepard #hsr roleplay #gepard hsr #honkai star rail roleplay #hsr #honkai star rail rp #fan club anon

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laresearchette · 2 months

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Friday, March 08, 2024 Canadian TV Listings (Times Eastern)

WHERE CAN I FIND THOSE PREMIERES?: THE RELUCTANT TRAVELER WITH EUGENE LEVY (Apple TV+) THE GOOD MOTHER (Paramount+ Canada) FIRST TIME FEMALE DIRECTOR (The Roku Channel) BOARDERS (Tubi)

WHAT IS NOT PREMIERING IN CANADA TONIGHT? GOLD RUSH: WHITE WATER (Premiering on March 12 on Discovery Canada at 9:00pm) THE TRAITORS (UK) (Premiering on March 15 on Crave at 11:00pm)

NEW TO AMAZON PRIME CANADA/CBC GEM/CRAVE TV/DISNEY + STAR/NETFLIX CANADA:

AMAZON PRIME CANADA AMERICAN FICTION ANATOMY OF A FALL DIFFERENT STROKES (EXCLUSIVE CONTENT) FLAWS

CBC GEM CBC MUSIC LIVE AT MASSEY HALL COCO CHANEL: UNBUTTONED GANGNAM PROJET THE GREAT BRITISH BAKING SHOW (Season 14) JUICE THE NEXT STEP (Season 7) 20TH CENTURY WOMEN WORKIN’ MOMS YOUNGER (Seasons 6 and 7, plus a one-hour special)

CRAVE TV BATMAN V SUPERMAN: DAWN OF JUSTICE THE DEPARTED DIARY OF A MAD BLACK WOMAN HOLMES FAMILY RESCUE HOW TO BLOW UP A PIPELINE A LEAGUE OF THEIR OWN PARADISE HIGHWAY PUSH SICK GIRL SISTERHOOD OF THE TRAVELING PANTS WONKA

NETFLIX CANADA BLOWN AWAY (Season 4) (CA) DAMSEL

HOCKEY CENTRAL TRADE DEADLINE (SN) 10:00am

MLB SPRING TRAINING (SN1) 1:00pm: Yankees vs. Jays

TENNIS (TSN2) 2:00pm; Indian Wells - Early Round Coverage Day #3 (TSN2/TSN4) 6:00pm: Indian Wells - Early Round Coverage Day #3

CURLING (TSN3) 2:00pm: Montana's Brier: Page 1/2 Qualifier (TSN/TSN3) 8:00pm: Montana's Brier: Page 3/4 Qualifier

PWHL HOCKEY (SN) 7:00pm: Montreal vs. Toronto

NHL HOCKEY (SNEast/SNOntario) 7:00pm: Sabres vs. Blue Jackets (SN) 10:00pm: Stars vs. Ducks (TSN3) 10:00pm: Jets vs. Kraken

NBA BASKETBALL (SN1) 7:30pm: Timberwolves vs. Cavaliers (SN Now) 8:00pm: Heat vs. Thunder (SN1) 10:30pm: Bucks vs. Lakers

MARKETPLACE (CBC) 8:00pm

MILLION DOLLAR ISLAND (Discovery Canada) 8:00pm: Finals Week begins, and starvation continues taking a toll on the Log camp as the hunger games reach a dramatic climax.

THE REAL HOUSEWIVES OF CHESHIRE (Slice) 8:00pm: Big ‘V’ Energy

BOLLYWED (documentary) 8:00pm: When Kuki invites the public to the second store Grand Opening on live radio, it gives the family less than 48 hours to be ready… for way more guests than they were anticipating.

ABOUT THAT (CBC) 8:30pm

THE FIFTH ESTATE (CBC) 9:00pm: Rotten Promises: A pitch to turn the Maritimes into an apple-growing capital, with influential supporters, was an easy sell to investors and would-be foreign workers; those who bought in say it was a scam.

OWN SPOTLIGHT: OPRAH & ANGELA BASSETT (OWN Canada) 9:00pm: Oprah hosts an intimate conversation with actress Angela Bassett in celebration of her recent honorary Academy Award; Angela shares her journey to success, her commitment to excellence and the dreams she has for her family.

HOW TO BLOW UP A PIPELINE (Crave) 9:00pm: With the climate crisis at a point of no return, a group of environmental activists come up with a daring plan to make their voices heard and disrupt an oil pipeline.

THE SUMMIT AUSTRALIA (Discovery Canada) 9:30pm (FINALE): After 14 days, 200 kilometres of brutal terrain and death defying obstacles along the way, The Summit is finally in sight.

CRIME BEAT (Global) 10:00pm: Surrey Six: The Gang Hit

#cdntv #cancon #canadian tv #canadian tv listings #marketplace #million dollar island #the real housewives of cheshire #bollywed #about that #the fifth estate #the summit australia #nhl hockey #mlb baseball #tennis #curling #pwhl hockey #nba basketball

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your-local-uwu-artist · 4 days

Note

HAIIII how about 1, 11, 26, and 34 for the OC ask game :3

alola >:D

1.Have you ever picked up a habit from developing/writing one of your own characters? And if so, who and what?

i don't think so actually. generally I give my habits (and habits from friends and family and other irl people) to ocs instead. I have picked up some odd habits from drawing and cartoons in general though, especially anime. mostly cause my brain can't exit artist mode and i'm constantly thinking about how i would draw stuff, so it's like that 'making weird faces when your drawing an expression' but instead it's 'over exaggerates my every movement because i am thinking about how i would draw that movement'

11.Which character has been through the most design changes?

gosh! a lot of pokemelody characters have beeen through DRASTIC design changes but not like, the most. so probably my sona character! here's a sketch i did once showing the basic progression. during the redesign segments though there's a bunch of mini phases of drafts that didn't stick. they've been through a few different eras. I like to split it into three main eras! the primative era (defining traits are galaxy hair and high fantasy aesthetics) the Sailor era (this era had the most story as a self insert oc, defining design traits is a sailor-fuku outfit and pigtail buns.) the confused era (era where i rebooted my sona but was still figuring stuff out, this era's defining traits is a visible ribcage, and way too busy/unfocused of a design) And finally the modern era! (simpler and more focused design but has a couple other forms with the shape shifter aspect. notably while theres still some scrapbook/sewing aesthetics the entire body is now bjd/doll instead of being a confusing mix)

fun facts about the design/s

-sailor era design had no heterochromia and had my irl brown hair, because i was younger and cringe culture was still super prominent: specifically that part where every 'character design tips thing' would tell you to avoid stuff like heterochromia and fangs and cool colorful hair unless they god forbid look like a mary sue.

-i think i've said this before but a year or so after I added that front bangs super long back hair short thing (plus litterally had my hair cut to match) a popular/influential artist made a character with this trait and it suddenly became a more common design trait. obvi i'm not trying to 'gatekeep' the design or claim i'm the first guy EVER to come up with it. but i would be lying if i didn't say i feel 'ahead of my time' and think it's funny to joke about this super big artist that def doesn't know i exist having 'copied' me fndjask

-one main design shift is the shift from the angel aesthetic to adding in some demon aesthetics

-all throughout the confused era the angel wings changed color according to mood, the chart used was to inconsistent and complicated though so this trait ended up being lost.

-starting with the confused era and sitll present in modern era my sona is a shapeshifting shiny mimikyu :3 and the idea is that their humanoid form is like, lowkey hollow, so the mimikyu body is inside

-despite having more inhuman traits i'd actually say modern era sona takes more inspo from my irl appearance than any previous design

26.What's your favorite relationship/dynamic between a set of OCs?

afndsjkfna i can't choose because i love different dyanmics for different reasons fnsdjkaf. ummm heres some honorary mentions!

-Sunny and Daisy, they're dorks in love, nice simple and wholesome! good ol' healthy loving relationship! classic malewife x girlboss lowkey

-kazumi and fukusha have this thing where they hate each other's guts, it's fun!

-SCOTT N TIP i've only posted about them once and they're lowkey co-owned sorta? (i designed them on my own and then an irl friend of mine took a likeing to them and started writing short stories with them, we'd like to make a point and click game series called 'Dectective Cardimen Scott + Tip' with them someday :3) Scott and Tip's designs litterally came from a little excercize I did on designing duos. Scott's a private investigator and was looking for an assistant, the enthusiastic Tip took up the job! they have this cartoon-inspired dynamic where their relationship is vague and up for interpretation. They're business partners and roomates at the least :3

34.What scene that you've written/imagined is your favorite?

hmmmmmmmmm generally speaking i prefer the like inbetween anti-climatic slice of life-y scenes but theres this climatic/hyped-up scene in arc '1.5' of Pokemelody that I'm excited for in the theoretical future where i make this a thing. arc 1.5 is the start of a redemption arc for the final villain of arc 1, the plot is the villain searching for someone she did something unforgivable too with the goal of apologizing.

also scenes where the characters are finally happy and content and theres shojo sparkles to express this my beloved.

scenes i include a lot of because they're what i want to see more of is like, characters having weird inhuman-physical traits both as casual details that are dispersed throughout but also like, when it's directly addressed or played around with. I feel like everything only ever gives me little hints of that sorta stuff and fanfic focusing on it is hard to come bye so i guess i'll just have to do everything msyelf around here lmao.

#yumehocshi

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thecompanionmoth · 10 months

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"Book One: A Nice Little Family" Thoughts (Brothers Karamazov)

I think having that title for this particular book is quite fitting as the entirety of it pertains to setting up the main family of the story. In regards to the actual story telling, this is strikingly different from the other two works I have read by Dostoevsky, White Nights and Crime and Punishment. Those are similar to one another, whereas Brothers Karamazov stands out; not just because of its popularity, but what makes it popular—that is something that I not only will focus on, but have to focus on when reading. Family as a motif being relayed and explained through Dostoevesky’s compelling narrative in the Brothers K is immediately, in my mind, going to leave an impression upon me. Although it has taken almost a month for me to sit down and finish the first book, I have another feeling that it will be easier to read from this point onwards.

Now, as for the actual story of Book One, there are some things that struck me as things that could contribute to the overall tale. But before I get into that, I want to say that the first couple of chapters are quite funny. This might have something to do with something mentioned in the translator’s note (Peaver and Volokhonsky translation, Bicentennial edition). Which is that their aim was to capture Dostoevsky’s original bleak comedy of the Brothers K. And immediately that goal came true. I had to take a moment to contain myself as I was in a library, when I was ready about Fyodor’s outrageous life and personality.

That was really the only moment in the whole book that I laughed, though, because I ended up moving on to focus on the establishment of the brothers and their lives. The two that struck me the most are Dmitri and Alyosha. The former for his difficult life and aloof disposition, the latter for his contrast between his older brothers. Alyosha’s innocence or his youthful approach to life is something I can relate to. I can also really find myself understanding Dmitri as a person and the difficult relationship he has with Fyodor. With that in mind, I can see how Ivan would fit in nicely between them. He is definitely a character that my sister (the middle between me and our younger brother) would like.

Not only are the characters and writing style interesting, yet echo Dostoevsky’s style that I am more familiar with, the combination of the two is a wonderful one, and I’ve enjoyed reading despite my slow pace. By having the story be told by—as far as I know—a local clergyman, that is a refreshing format than just third person narration. It adds ahe book where stage directions or other things were added to be a subtle nod to theatre in that book. But with Brothers K, it honestly feels not only cinematic, but actually Homeric. Me saying that could be a bias because that is a literary style that I am intimately familiar with as I have studied it in great detail. But the way that theatrical element that makes Dostoevsky’s work here much more cinematic than theatrical, which is something that I can attribute to Crime and Punishment. There were several instances in t the elder might be somehow influential and conciliatory.”

“Fyodor Pavlovich was apparently the first to suggest, apparently as a joke, that they all get together in the elder Zosima’s cell, and, without resorting to his direct mediation, still come to some decent agreement, since the dignity and personality of the elder might be somehow influential and conciliatory.”

To me, that echoes the gathering of followers and friends at Plato’s cell when he delivered his final few dialogues. I might be stretching, but even if it was intended, such a reference is rather cool and works well in the story and the Greek reference previously mentioned. There are some other things I highlighted regarding character details, fundamental things, that I feel might come up later. If they do, I will most certainly reference them. But for now, I am going to continue reading with Book Two, An Inappropriate Gathering!

#booklr #read through #brothers karamazov #russian lit #classic lit

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cypressmoons · 2 years

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bane of my existence and object of all my desires [full story]

it's finally here! i finished editing through and compiled all 8 parts into one single post for your enjoyment. i didn't realize how many pages 24k words is until now - it's a whopping 60 pages :o kinda shook that i was able to write this much but also kinda proud hehe

you can find a chapter-by-chapter index here, or if you'd prefer to read the parts individually, you can find them here. happy reading!

started: april 19, 2022 finished: august 22, 2022 edited: october 19, 2022

word count: 24,056

general summary: bridgerton!ayato is the head of inazuma's most influential commission, and he has sworn to never fall in love because that only ends in heartbreak -- except to find a vessel to carry his heir, of course. but when he meets the dashing y/n with her headstrong personality that goes against about everything he has ever known, he is not so sure if falling in love is such a bad idea anymore. inspired and based on the book "the viscount who loved me" by julia quinn and season 2 of netflix's bridgerton.

general contents: strong language; sexual/nsfw content (both implicit and explicit); mentions of death, injury, violence, murder, blood, battle; implied gender roles/mentions of misogyny; spoilers for the book and show, and lots of fluff and tears.

pairing: kamisato ayato x female reader, she/her pronouns timeline: inazuma post-sakoku decree, irodori festival, ayato story quest

names: fukuchi y/n - reader, fukuchi emiko - sister note: unless otherwise stated, the chapters will contain spoilers. minors are encouraged to not interact due to suggestive/sexual content, especially with the last two chapters which are marked mdni!

𝐨𝐧𝐞.

Kamisato Ayato does not want to find a wife under these circumstances, if he had any say in this at all.

To him, a wife is nothing more than a somewhat tolerable person who doesn’t bore him to death every time he speaks to her. Who is educated but doesn’t talk back to him. Who follows everything he does, because he is the man of the house. Definitely not the defiant ones who don’t know their place. And most importantly, someone who is able to bear children to continue the Kamisato bloodline.

A wife is nothing more than a birthing machine, it seems. Her existence a mere fulfillment of the unwritten contract Ayato took on when he became the ninth Yashiro Commissioner.

And to the high society of Inazuma, Kamisato Ayato is a promiscuous young man who plays and breaks the hearts of unknowing ladies. He chases the high of watching other people squirm under his touch, his kiss, his presence. It’s like a drug to him, and certain rumours have made some mamas steer their daughters away from him like he is the drug. Whatever the case is, the exhilarating thrill of being the capital-R Rake of Inazuma is too addicting. The addiction to him, though, may prove to be the downfall of some, and the exaltation of others.

°•. ✿ .•°

Had it been up to Ayato, the social season would not be in the middle of spring. It is the most delectable time of year indeed, time that should be spent hunting or riding or playing games rather than the constant whirl of balls, trips to the modiste, and endless suitors lining up at his door.

He slouches on the armchair, the upholstery providing a bubble of comfort that he does not want to get out of. From his position, he watches mindlessly as the handmaidens scurry around his younger sister, the governess gesturing wildly with her hands in an attempt to provide her with a last reminder on formal etiquette.

“Remember, your fan is your friend, not your enemy. Don’t go sending false signals to the gentlemen with your carelessness now.”

Ayato can’t help but let out a snort-laugh at the pathetic state his sister is in, earning a hard glance from the governess and a small chuckle from the girl. “My lord, the carriage is ready.”

A footman approaches Ayato, bowing his head slightly at the young Commissioner.

He dismisses the man with a curt nod and returns his attention to the girl clad from head to toe in ivory whites, an amused smile on his lips as he notices the feathers on her head resembling that of a peacock’s.

“We shall make haste then, sister.”

The gilded carriage slows to a halt in front of the Shogun’s palace, and Ayato’s head buzzes with annoyance the moment he glances out the window. If anxiety was visible, he could see a dense cloud of it floating above the heads of all the desperate mamas and young debutantes, dressed in the same shade of white as his sister sitting across from him in the carriage.

“Do you think Her Excellency would like me?” Ayaka’s brows furrow at the sight, all the other girls will be her competitor the moment she descends from the carriage.

He scoffs not at his sister’s own cloud of anxiety, but at the noise of hundreds of overlapping voices, “Of course she will.”

Ayato stands among the sea of other family members waiting along the aisle, his lonesome presence a stark contrast to the bigger families of young siblings and married elder sisters hovering around the debutante. Ayaka tugs at her gloves, adorned in pearls and made from the finest Liyue silks. She does not speak, but Ayato feels her uneasiness all the same. Despite his distaste about social events like these, he knows that being there for Ayaka is his duty as a brother. And regardless of what societies gossip about him being a coldhearted man, his family would always come first.

The voices die down to a quiet whisper as the Shogun’s guards emerge from behind the doors. A girl several places in front of him trembles from the nerves, and a mama next to him frantically dabs her forehead with a handkerchief. Ayato straightens his back and offers his arm, and Ayaka takes it as if leaning onto him for stability.

“You’ll be alright.” He whispers and gives her fingers a reassuring squeeze. The blue-haired girl offers a tight-lipped smile in return.

The line in front of them disappears slowly. The room is getting too warm for Ayato’s liking. He would love nothing more right now than a refreshing drink and to loosen those stupid buttons around his neck. The seam sewing one of the pearls to Ayaka’s glove is dangerously close to snapping from her constant picking, and before Ayato has time to comfort her one last time, the double doors swing open and the Almighty Shogun in all her grandeur is revealed from behind those doors, earning several light gasps from behind him.

“Lady Kamisato Ayaka of the Kamisato Clan.”

At the consort’s cue, the pair takes slow and steady steps up the aisle, and Ayato fights to suppress his urge to throw dirty looks of dismay at the “eligible bachelors” of this season. Just the thought of one of those old men ogling, or even worse, marrying his sister is enough to make him want to vomit.

“Your Excellency,” Ayaka says with lowered head as they bow in front of the Shogun, her voice calm but sweet from years of practice.

It isn’t until a few moments later that they allow themselves to stand up, and Ayato notices the small smile tugging at Her Excellency’s lips right away. His heart rate speeds up, and he feels Ayaka’s grip on his arm tighten.

“As flawless as always, Lady Kamisato.”

𝐭𝐰𝐨.

Ayato has never been more glad to get out of the estate. Perhaps the officers noticed the clenched fists and forced smiles, they reassured him that they could chaperone Ayaka and her suitors just fine. After all, his presence was probably enough to ward off a handful of suitors already, and for a lady like Ayaka, that is the last thing she needs.

The air of Chinju Forest somehow feels crisper as Ayato ascends into the woods after yet another night spent with beautiful women at the baishun yado [brothel], the cacophony of bird calls lifting his spirits. He feels his footsteps lighten with each stride. A bake-danuki hurries past, turning into a torch before his very eyes. Ayato chuckles at the cute little creatures, and continues with his stroll home.

The rustling of some leaves stops him dead in his tracks. This is not the all-too-familiar sound a bake-danuki makes as it transforms, or even that of a kitsune roaming around the woods. The noise of dried leaves crunching under pressure sounds again, and before he has time to react, a shadowy outline leaps from behind a large rock and dashes across the path.

“Hey there!” He calls out, instinct prompting him to follow.

The hooded figure does not stop, and expertly navigates through the stones, trees, and shrubs towards the glistening stream running through the forest. Ayato calls out again, this time noticing a nearby hilichurl shooter readying its bow at the mysterious person, the power of cryo already gathering at the tip of the arrow. He reaches for his sword, preparing himself for battle and making a mental note to send some of his men to clear the forest later. Inazumans must pass Chinju Forest to reach the Grand Narukami Shrine, and it is simply not proper for him to leave the monsters making themselves at home here.

He visibly cringes as the figure leaps across the stream, thinking they would miss the river bank and land in the water with an embarrassing splash. To his surprise, they touch down on the other side effortlessly, as if they had been preparing for this jump all their life. Noticing the hilichurl as well, the stranger makes swift work of their blade and after the flash of a flame, the forest returns to its former stillness.

Ayato freezes. Another vision bearer.

“Who are you?” He does not approach any closer, hand remaining on the golden hilt of his sword, preparing for the worst.

The moonlight filters through the leaves, illuminating the figure’s face in the eternal night of the forest. Dark eyes meet his as the person slowly removed their hood. Ayato feels his heart palpitate, a burning sensation rising in his stomach as if he just drank a Treasure Hoarder’s pyro potion, as if he was the one hit by this strange girl’s elemental attack just moments ago. Despite himself, he loosens his grip on his sword.

“It is not safe out here. Where is your maid?”

“I have no maid,” the girl answers with a light shrug.

“So you are married then?”

Even in the dim light Ayato sees the raised eyebrow and incredulous look. He bows his head slightly, “Forgive me.”

The girl does not respond, and turns to continue her journey.

“Wait!”

She stops but does not face him. For the first time in his life, Ayato fumbles with his words.

“Why are you running?”

“To save myself from the dull conversations of the Season,” she grumbles, eyeing Ayato from head to toe long enough that he begins to feel self-conscious -- a rare occurrence, “and from creepy men chasing after me in a forest.”

It’s his turn to cock an eyebrow this time. Him. Creepy man. In all his years of being alive, he has never considered anyone daring to utter those words in front of him.

“I warned you about the hilichurl first.”

“And yet you didn’t do anything to stop it.” She shots back without missing a beat, “seems what you’re missing in manners is lacking in swordsmanship too.” The heat in his stomach turns into annoyance. A woman talking back to him. That’s the first he’s seen it.

Without waiting for him to respond, the girl continues on her journey up the hill, twisting a newly bloomed flower off its stems on her way and taking a whiff of its fragrance as if she doesn’t have a single care in the world.

Despite his irritation, Ayato finds him calling after the girl again.

“I didn’t even get your name!”

She only laughs and waves her arm in dismissal, disappearing into the thick foliage of the tree and away from his sight.

°•. ✿ .•°

Amid the high of the social season, the workload of the Yashiro Commissioner naturally becomes heavier with all the ceremonial affairs he has to get in order. Preparations for the first ball of this season, for example, is well under way at the Kamisato estate. Ayato sits at his desk, the smooth yumemiru surface barely visible under the mountains of paperwork. Food and drink have been taken care of, he mutters to himself, but the list of servants has yet to be finalized, and Ayaka needs a new kanzashi made for the kimono she will be wearing to the dance.

Ayato pinches the bridge of his nose to steer himself away from an oncoming slumber, his fingertips stained in jet-black ink from all the documents he had to sign. The lights outside have been out for hours, the only thing illuminating the courtyard being the moon and the faint candlelight through his shoji doors. To serve Her Excellency and all of Inazuma is your honour and duty, Ayato. His father’s voice echoes in his ears, jolting him awake from his half-sleep. He blinks a few times, letting out a sigh when he realizes that he was only dreaming. Oh, what he wouldn’t give to hear his father’s reassuring words one more time. Mindlessly his hand reaches down to the cerulean orb hanging off the waist of his coat, the Vision emitting a soft glow in his palms. The same glow it has always had since the moment a young Ayato found it laying on his desk, and the same glow it will always have for the rest of eternity. Just like Her Excellency desires.

He closes his eyes, the image of his father’s smiling face already blurring at the edges in his mind. It has been ten years since he last saw the eighth Yashiro Commissioner. Had he been here today, he would have known exactly what to say to cheer Ayato up from all the tedious work. Perhaps a friendly spar in the courtyard would work, or a short break down to the beaches of Ritou. Ayato gently shakes his head with a smile, the fond memories motivating him to pick up his brush pen again.

I won’t let you down, Father.

°•. ✿ .•°

Even from quite a distance away, the festive music can be heard radiating from the Kamisato Estate. The once quiet courtyard is bustling with activity, brightly-coloured kimonos and gold-painted hairpins glistening under the sunlight. Ayato leans against the wall, once again finding himself waiting for his sister to get ready for the ceremony.

Faint footsteps come from the hallway behind him, and soon enough a head of golden hair emerges from behind the doors. His retainer, Thoma, greets him with a bright smile.

“My lord, everything is going to plan. There’s no need to worry.” The Mondstadter reassures as if sensing his uneasiness. He always seems to be able to read people’s minds.

“Thank you, Thoma,” Ayato smiles in return, the simple motion slightly more laborious than usual.

“Is everything alright?”

“Hm? Why wouldn’t they be?” Caught off guard by the sudden question, Ayato snaps out of his thoughts and clears his throat, putting back on the indifferent expression that always adorns his features.

Thoma does not respond, but simply looks at his master. In all the years Ayato has known the man, this is the first time he finds himself unable to meet his eyes, ever so caring observant towards his and his sister’s every need.

Ayaka’s voice interrupts the awkward silence that has fallen over the room. It is almost time for the dance to begin, and the Shirasagi Himegimi is due to make her formal appearance as host of this ball.

A quick speech and some courteous introductions later, the ceremony formally begins. The green of the courtyard is dotted with bright yellows, blues, pinks and purples, the gagaku plays eloquently as ladies twirl in their partner’s arms.

Ayato leans against a pillar, allowing himself a moment of solitude before he is bound to be whirled away for a dance by an overly-enthusiastic mama.

Or Lady Yae, for that matter.

The pink-haired Guuji approaches Ayato’s spot by the door, and he grimaces before forcing a pleasant smile.

“Lady Guuji. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Before he can even finish his polite bow, Ayato’s body freezes as if the blossoming ice crystals of Ayaka’s Hyouka skill have accidentally hit him rather than her training target.

“Lord Kamisato, a pleasure to see you as always,” Lady Yae says with a slight nod, “allow me to introduce my personal special guests of this season, Lady Fukuchi Emiko and her sister, Lady Fukuchi Y/N.”

“Delighted to make your acquaintance, my lord,” the younger lady says with a deep bow, and the elder follows with a smaller one. Amused by the clear differences in enthusiasm, Ayato finds himself chuckling at the older sister’s inability to hide the daggers in her gaze and her obvious annoyance at being shoved into this situation.

Ayato smirks, looking directly past the younger girl at the same dark eyes he met in the shadows of Chinju Forest a fortnight ago, still flickering with vexation about the very fact that she’s here, at his ball, under his watchful eyes. The boring dance suddenly got a whole lot more interesting now that he has someone to tease. He’s going to enjoy this. A lot.

“So we meet again, Lady Fukuchi.”

𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞.

Dearest Readers,

The Season is well under way, but Her Excellency has yet to name the Incomparable. It is not surprising that Lady Fukuchi Emiko has caught the eye of many suitors. But will she emerge as the diamond of the first water, or will another lady take her place as the hot topic of discussion in Inazuma? Any bachelor hoping to ask for Lady Fukuchi’s hand, however, must first tame the rather prickly spinster of a beast, otherwise known as her sister.

Lord Kamisato Ayato is the single most eligible bachelor of the Season indeed. As this author has already established, a lowercase rake is youthful and immature, brimming with naivete as he thinks himself being dangerous to women. An uppercase Rake, on the other hand, knows he is dangerous to all women. With his sister presenting into society for the first time this season, will the Kamisatos secure not one engagement but two? If so, ensuing dynamics between the Tri-Commission are sure to be gossiped about from Watatsumi Island to Ritou for months to come.

Yours Truly,

Lady Naoki

“What kind of absurdity is she saying about me this time?” Ayato hums, pouring some freshly made sencha into delicate china cups.

Ayaka sets the folded pamphlet down on the table, a silhouette of a lady with a shimada up-do framed in the centre of the cover: “Just you being the most eligible bachelor of the season, or… whatever ‘a Rake with a capital R’ means.”

“That’s not a word for a proper lady to say.”

He grunts with disdain, snatching the cream-coloured papers from the table, wrinkling the corners in the process. His eyes skim through the usual shenanigans until he spots his name, printed square in the middle of the page, with the capital R Rake next to it. Ayato snorts as he reads Lady Naoki’s gossip column, an activity too “feminine” that he otherwise would have never engaged in if it were not for the favourable mentions of the younger Lady Fukuchi.

And the particularly unfavourable ones of the elder.

Ayato hides a smile as he savours the satisfaction upon reading the words “prickly spinster of a beast”. He could not have described her better himself. Surely it must be fun to stir up some more rumours about the diamond, would it not?

Without even finishing his tea, the young Commissioner stands up from his seat, answering the questioning look from his sister, “I’m going to pay the Fukuchi Clan a visit.”

The ascend up to the Grand Narukami Shrine is not always an easy one, but Ayato feels lighthearted as he steps over the exposed tree roots and runs a hand along the aged clifface, damp with humidity and green with moss. A bell rings from the shrine above him, the crisp sound bouncing off the mountainside in an echo before disappearing into the air.

As soon as he reaches the top of the staircase, though, Ayato realizes he isn’t the only one. A line of suitors has already gathered by Guuji Yae’s residence, where Lady Fukuchi is staying for the season. He huffs with annoyance, bypassing the gift-bearing men to knock at the door, earning angry protests from the other suitors. He scans the faces behind the fresh flowers and exquisite foreign gifts, and the murmurs die down when they realize it is the Yashiro Commissioner before him. Whatever objections they have, they do not to dare speak of it aloud.

“Hm.” Ayato lets out a satisfied hum, turning to open the door before running head-first into a shadow of pale lilac.

Words of apology are quickly swallowed when Ayato’s eyes focus on the facial features of whoever it is that collided right into his body. Without the dark hood or a thousand hair pins securing her kanzashi in place, Lady Fukuchi Y/N somehow looks ten times more dashing than he last saw her. Small beads decorate the neckline of her lavender-coloured dress, and though they are no crystals from Liyue or pearls from Fontaine, they are more than sufficient to draw the attention to her b–

“My lord,” Y/N’s voice interrupts Ayato’s thoughts from tumbling down to some inappropriate place. Lifting his eyes from her chest to her face, he notices the same cold stare he is now all too familiar with.

“May I request a moment with your sister, Lady Fukuchi?” He dips his head in a polite greeting, mostly to avoid unnecessary rumours about him being improper from the watchful eyes behind.

“There is in fact a queue, my lord, in case you have not noticed.” Y/N replies coldly, surely not sharing the same concern about Ayato’s manners.

“Ah. You see, a certain author has made it clear that your sister is the most desirable of the Season, is she not?”

“And the same author has made it clear that you are to be avoided.”

Ayato is taken aback by the directness of her words, but his mind is quick to respond: “Surely you don’t think that terribly of me?”

“I’m only here to make sure my sister finds a love match that she deserves, not marrying to fulfill some…duty of birthing children.”

With that, she spins on her heel and brushes past Ayato, nodding a quick “my lord” at him before continuing down the hallway to speak with the other suitors. Despite her sharp tongue and relentless insults, he can’t help but take a sharp inhale at the sweet combination of sakura blooms and dendrobium that linger in the empty space where she was a moment ago, the scent tickling the right places in his brain more than a heavy dose of Naku weed ever could – not that he has ever indulged in those kinds of pleasures, of course.

The sound of a throat being cleared once again jerks Ayato from his thoughts. He opens his eyes – strange, he doesn’t remember closing them – to see a smug Lady Yae glaring at him with a knowing smile. Frustrated with both being rejected in front of everyone and caught by the Guuji, he shoulders past the ever-growing line of suitors and exits the building.

If anything, the humiliation of rejection only serves as motivation to secure Lady Fukuchi’s hand in marriage. If marriage is just a duty, he might as well have some fun and indulge in the best pick of the season. After all, he is the Yashiro Commissioner, the most eligible bachelor, and perhaps one of the richest too. If Lady Fukuchi is named the diamond, it is only natural for him to take her home, no?

And what made you think they’ll accept your proposal? Are the ladies here on Narukami island truly so easily won by some good looks and money?

Ayato rubs his temple as Y/N’s voice rings in his ears. After Lady Yae introduced the sisters to him a few nights ago at the dance, Y/N had overheard him declaring his requirements for a wife to his acquaintances in the Kanjou Commission. The recent engagement between Lord Kujou and Lady Hiiragi instilled new pressure on the other commission heads to establish families, and the men had teased Ayato about his habit of sleeping around.

“Simply pick the least objectionable and get her bed, wed, and bred, so you aren’t tied down by the chains of marriage from…more pleasurable activities.” One of the Kanjou officers had joked.

“If I care anything about my children at all,” Ayato had replied, “then their mother must be reasonably good looking and have some wits in her.”

The men hollered in laughter. The thought of Lord Kamisato settling for a lesser woman and throwing fits over ugly children was a particularly enjoyable one for them.

A flower pot tipped over somewhere behind them and Ayato noticed immediately. Seeing the other men too engrossed in friendly banter to pay much attention to a flower pot suddenly growing legs, Ayato excused himself to find Lady Fukuchi Y/N behind a meticulously trimmed shrub, an exasperated look under the glittering hairpins and smoothed over curls.

“You were eavesdropping.”

“Oh please, one hardly had to eavesdrop to hear your lofty requirements for a wife.”

The low flames of anger crackled in his stomach again, but he was intrigued. As if seeing a foreign invention from Fontaine for the first time, the warning bells did nothing to stop his curiosity. He crossed his hands behind his back and took a step closer, his interest only piquing more seeing the unwavering expression on Y/N’s face. Had anyone dared to speak to him the way she did, they would’ve lost their marbles at his towering presence over them by now.

But not her. Dark eyes remain boring straight into his as she stands tall, and Ayato was determined to see her falter: “So you admit you were angry you can’t meet my…lofty requirements?”

And that’s when she retorted with the snarky comment about ladies in Narukami Island being too stupid to see through his facade or something of the sort. This woman is really going to get herself in trouble if she doesn’t stop with the constant mocking. It’s one thing for him to joke around about finding some fun in the duty that is marriage, but it’s a whole other thing for a woman to meet the same level of contempt he has, or even worse, a higher level of contempt.

Naoki has declared to all of Lady Fukuchi’s suitors that they have to get through the “prickly beast” of her sister before they can even consider taking a promenade with the debutante. But Kamisato Ayato is never the one to shy away from a challenge. You want to stop him from doing something? Better luck next time. He has spent too long of his life learning how to cleverly play the politics game or risk losing his family. A single woman isn’t going to prevent him from getting his hands on what he wants. No, he is too proud to admit defeat, least of which to a spinster.

Dearest Readers,

Her Excellency has, without surprise, named Lady Fukuchi Emiko as the Incomparable of the Season. And while we await news of an engagement, the game is afoot between Lord Kamisato and Lady Fukuchi Y/N. This author is most delighted indeed to watch what moves Lord Kamisato has to pull to win over Lady Fukuchi’s heart, or even more intrigued to find out how the sister is going to stop him. Words about the young lord surely have spread to Watatsumi Island for the elder lady Fukuchi to be so adamant about keeping him away from her sister. Or are some other underlying causes making the Commissioner so unpopular in the Fukuchi Clan?

Yours Truly,

Lady Naoki

𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫.

Kamisato Ayato has never been the one to believe in a love match, or in love, for that matter. Inviting the Fukuchi Clan to his estate for an early celebration is all part of his master plan in securing Emiko’s hand before it is too late. His fingers draw mindless circles on the small box in his hand, the delicate velvet containing the Kamisato heirloom. Today shall be the day, yes, where Ayato can put an end to Lady Naoki’s annoying speculations about who’s courting who once and for all.

It is no secret that Ayato has had his eyes set on Lady Fukuchi for a while now. Some of the more…self-aware suitors of hers have since ceased their pursuits, knowing they could not out-compete the Yashiro Commissioner anyway. Ayato is tired of the little gusts of wind that come whenever another young lady furiously bats her eyelashes in his presence, but he finds Emiko’s presence strangely comforting amid the chaos. Anyone with a pair of eyes could see the how much Emiko enjoys being in his companionship, too. Though it is no doubt that she would love the title of commissioner’s wife just as much as the next lady, there is more to her that clearly shows her willingness to be his wife first, and a lady with a title second.

Now all that he needs is to get the blessing from her sister. The hardest part, if you ask him.

But with Emiko, you never know what kind of ingenious plan she has in mind, hidden behind a graceful flick of her wrist and the subtle waves of her fan.

Bathing in the glorious afternoon sunshine, Ayato lets himself relax and fights the sudden urge to prop his feet up on the table. As he awaits the arrival of the Fukuchi carriage, he makes a mental list of most ideal scenarios for a proposal that would leave all of Inazuma savouring over for days. Somewhere not too public where the pressure of the watchful people could tip of the anxiety of the most composed person, but also not too private where the secret writer of the gossip column cannot draft up good words about him. It needs to be the perfect balance, and it perfectly executed just like everything else the Commissioner has ever done.

The carriage slowly grinds to a halt outside the Kamisato courtyard, and Ayato springs to his feet. Following closely behind is Ayaka, dressed in a light blue kimono very suitable for today’s beautiful weather. The footman opens the door and offers the ladies his hand in their descent from the carriage.

Ayato notes with great pleasure in Emiko’s radiance. He lowers his head in greeting, and the girl grins at the sight of her future lover.

“My lord, we are most grateful for your hospitality.”

As sweet as the ripest lavender melon, Ayato chuckles to himself. “The pleasure is all mine, Lady Fukuchi.”

“And you must be Lady Y/N?” Ayaka asks with great expectancy as the ladies exchange a formal greeting as well.

Emiko’s smile freezes, and Ayato feels his heart sink. What has given his sister the impression that his biggest obstacle, the one person making all his thoughts go awry and his heart beat so erratically like a race horse running off track.

“This is her sister, Lady Emiko.” Ayato corrects, not daring to look at either of the sisters in the eye.

“Oh, my apologies!”

“Not to worry at all, milady.”

Emiko and Ayaka engage themselves in small talk as they make their way into the estate, leaving Ayato standing a respectful distance away from Y/N, neither of them saying anything for a brief, blissful moment.

“Lady-”

“My lord-”

They both pause at the overlapping of their voices, before Ayato picks up his words, “You are smiling.”

“At the view. Which you are now blocking.”

How naive of him to have thought she would let him off easily this time.

“I’m sure you will grow to like me as much as you do this view.”

“I think your opinion of yourself is entirely too high.” Despite her comment, Ayato notices a trace of a smile on her lips, which she is now desperately trying to hide. He does not recall the two of them getting on such personal terms, joking and teasing like old friends.

His small glimmer of hope is immediately crushed when Y/N brushes past him with a curt nod, catching up with her sister and Ayaka on a tour of the estate. Ayato may be arrogant, but he is not stupid. A mistake made once is bound to not be repeated again. Surrounded by her sweet sakura scent but somehow maintaining a clear enough mind to remember Lady Yae’s warning look from days before, he forces his feet to move from their previous spot despite every cell in his body yelling at him not to.

If only he could spend a lifetime breathing in that scent.

No, his heart is with Emiko. A simple perfume should not steer him off course.

When Ayato joins the ladies at the courtyard, they are already engaged in a particularly animated conversation with the exception of Y/N, who is merely nodding along to whatever words are exchanged with a polite smile.

“Brother, do come join us!”

Taking the only remaining seat — next to Y/N — and making himself comfortable, Emiko immediately jumps at the chance to offer a glimpse into whatever new idea of hers.

“My lord, I think it would be a great idea for my sister to join you on a walk in a moment!” She beams, purposefully casting a blind eye to the fervent hints being thrown at her by her sister.

“I do not think that would be necessary-” Y/N refutes quickly, failing at her inconspicuous attempt to kick her sister under the table.

“That is a fine idea indeed, Lady Emiko!” Ayaka chimes in, this time earning a hard look from Ayato. The last thing he needs is unchaperoned alone time with Y/N, the exact opposite in every way from his intended.

If he wasn’t the punchline of whatever joke the younger ladies are playing, Ayato would have found this situation especially entertaining with the almost comical side eyes and hushed no’s coming from the older siblings. But alas, there is no convincing his sister once she sets her mind on something.

“I suppose there is no harm in doing so,” he finally says through gritted teeth, not wanting to suffer for one more second under Ayaka’s best puppy dog eyes.

Y/N sighs and smooths out her skirt as she stands, but not before throwing one last dirty look at Emiko, a look Ayato would not have expected a lady of her stature to be capable of.

He offers his arm that Y/N reluctantly takes, which she immediately drops the moment they can no longer be seen from the courtyard. Unsure of whether to laugh at her attempts to get rid of him or to be offended at that same attempt, he pretends to become increasingly interested in the soil beneath their feet as they descend into Chinju Forest once more.

The pair spends the majority of their walk in silence, albeit a less awkward one than the forced wordlessness in front of the whole of Inazuma. They take slow and relaxed steps down the mountain, and finally come to a stop near the torii gates by the path.

“There’s been monsters roaming around here lately, we should return before we run into any of them.” Ayato suggests, eyeing the calm surroundings in a nervous manner unlike his usual self.

“Are you doubting my abilities to defend myself?” Y/N challenges with a raised eyebrow.

He sighs then. There’s no convincing this girl to do anything, even if it’s for her own good.

“Quite the opposite, actually. I’m more worried about having to put out a whole forest fire if you run into a monster.”

Y/N lets out a short scoff, but follows him in their return to the estate anyway. Ayato’s internal celebration of this small victory doesn’t last long, as Y/N turns to face him with a questioning look.

“Is there anything you’d like to tell me about my sister, my lord?”

“Your sister?”

“Yes.”

Ayato pauses. If he is to propose to Emiko, he would need Y/N’s blessing first. And there’s no way she would give that to him easily without a fight.

“She sent us on this…walk in hopes of getting us to hate each other less.” She mutters, clearly unhappy with her sister’s ploy.

“Well, is it working?” He teases.

“No.”

“Come on, I’m sure there’s at least something you find amiable about me?”

She does not answer, and Ayato only hopes she is being too stubborn to reveal it.

After a brief silence, he speaks again with the intention of asking about Emiko, “If I were to ask for your sister’s hand in marriage, would you allow it?”

To his surprise, she does not shut him down immediately, but only seems to be especially interested in examining the earth beneath their feet. Finally she looks up at him, her eyes filled with genuine concern as opposed to the usual confidence.

“I want her to be happy, my lord. My whole purpose here on Narukami Island is to make sure Emiko can find someone she truly is content being with.”

“And you are not finding that yourself?”

“This isn’t about me.”

Puzzled, Ayato matches her footsteps and examines her face slowly. Her features are unmoving and she does not say anything for a while, but there is a sorrow in her eyes that manages to escape her façade anyway. Suddenly Ayato feels sorry for her, a revelation that shocks even himself. How terrible it must be to give up everything you want for someone else, to sacrifice everything just to see someone else happy.

Then it hits him. He would walk to the edge of the world or through the depths of hell just to make sure Ayaka is safe and sound. And he would not hesitate to do it over again.

Maybe he and Y/N can finally see eye to eye on something, after all.

°•. ✿ .•°

The festivities are turned up a notch when the rest of high society joins them at the Kamisato estate for a fun-filled evening of food, music, and dances. Reflecting upon his earlier doubts, Ayato realizes that inviting the ladies earlier has not been a mistake. Y/N did not say another word to him as they made their way back to the estate, but he found all the answer he needs. If he can somehow prove to her that he, Kamisato Ayato, can indeed make her sister happy, then Lady Naoki’s next issue can surely include something more interesting than where the best kimono silks are bought.

Emiko looks especially happy next to Y/N as the ladies emerge out of the house in new dresses for the night. His eyes linger on Y/N for a moment too long before he catches Emiko’s bright smile, and he can’t help but offer a small one back in return, an action not unnoticed by Thoma.

“Forgive me for asking, my lord, but has there indeed been a special lady like the papers are speculating?”

“I think there are better things to do in one’s pastime than reading the nonsense that lady whatever-her-name-is is writing.”

Despite his teasing remarks, Thoma laughs heartily, his inner Mondstadter showing once more. That’s what Ayato likes about his retainer, though. Never afraid to speak his mind, but also genuine in his care for others.

“Thoma, if there were…indeed a special lady, how does one go about proposing to her?”

Green eyes widen as silence falls upon them. Thoma considers carefully before responding, “I suppose you must find a suitable moment for you both. If it were me, I wouldn’t want to pressure her into accepting a proposal in front of the whole nation.”

“Hm.”

“O-of course, I’m sure nothing you had in mind would be below the best, my lord.”

Ayato chuckles at Thoma’s panicked amendment to his previous words, and gives him a gentle pat on the back as he readies himself for the incoming swarm of unsuspecting mamas wanting to make the best introduction to their daughters.

Repeated formalities and several more small windstorms of eyelash-batting and fanning later, it is finally time for the first dance. Emiko stands next to her sister, their arms linked and looking closer to each other than he last remembers seeing them. Even then, he allows himself a moment of pure enjoyment as the crowd parts to make way for him, savouring the power he singlehandedly holds over all of the people here.

Almost all. He is not sure if he can say the same about Y/N.

“Lady Fukuchi,” he bows politely as he reaches them, “may I have the honour of the first dance?”

“Of course, my lord.” Emiko’s smile is brighter than the stars as she happily takes his outstretched hand, but not before exchanging an overexcited look with her sister.

The band plays the first notes and Ayato places his hand on her waist, the smooth silks of her kimono melting away into the smooth curves of her figure. As the dance progresses, Ayato finds it increasingly difficult to focus on his practiced footwork under Emiko’s expectant eyes on him, the same eyes soon turning disappointed as the music comes to a graceful stop and Ayato still has yet to say a word to her. Even so, she is quick to push her sister out to the dance floor while other gentlemen go around requesting the company of the young ladies.

“I think it would be great for you to have a dance with Lord Kamisato, don’t you think, Sister?”

Before Y/N can stammer out an excuse, Emiko has already caught Ayato’s eyes and it is too late to look away now. Of course, he does not let any of his inner emotions seep through his calming surface. Y/N now has no choice but to accept the dance, the look exchanged between her and Emiko now slightly angrier compared to the earlier one.

“Lady Fukuchi.”

She looks up at him, surprised by his voice next to her ear.

Little does she know, had they not been in public, Ayato may not have been able to hold back on the primal urges bubbling inside of him under such close proximity to her. Nevertheless, he quickly composes himself and asks the words every elder sibling in Inazuma has wanted to hear.

“Will you give me your blessing to marry your sister?”

Y/N hesitates, her feet missing a beat and stepping squarely on Ayato’s toes.

“My apologies!”

He can only laugh at her flustered state. Whatever happened to her witty comebacks?

“If you can promise you won’t treat her like a disposable object, then maybe I will consider it.”

There they are.

“She will have everything the Kamisato Clan has to offer. Whatever things she wants—”

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

He knows that’s not what she meant.

But how can he make that promise, when he is so afraid of falling in love?

°•. ✿ .•°

Kamisato Ayato isn’t afraid of many things. He has everything he could possibly need in this lifetime and the next – money, power, family, an endless line of suitors…

But he is terribly afraid of dying.

Pathetic, he knows. A man of his stature should not be as bothered by the mortality of humankind as he is. But after his parents’ untimely passing, the fear of dying young grows bigger with every day that goes by.

It is clan politics and betrayal that killed his father, and a broken heart his mother. Losing two of the people that meant the most to him in such a short period of time made Ayato take on the burden of being the head of the Kamisato Clan way too early. Boys of the same age were still playing chess and sparring friendly duels out on the streets when he was presented with all the documents pertaining to Inazuma’s cultural affairs in the dimly lit study, his eyes wide with fear and empty with grief.

It was then he promised to himself that he would never let anything happen to Ayaka, the only remaining family he has.

He has built the Kamisato Clan back from its crumbling ruins after his father’s death, and reemerged as one of the most influential families in Inazuma. All while knowing that the constant politics will eventually cost him his life someday. He may be smart in his maneuvers around power-hungry clan heads, but the same cleverness has gained him more enemies than he’d like to think about. Even though he tries to be levelheaded in all his affairs and avoid making enemies, he cannot change the fact that some people would do anything to get what they want, whether they be rival clans of the Fatui, who would not hesitate to use force to eliminate any obstacles in their way.

He has long accepted that assassination attempts and evil schemes against him are just part of his job. The less interesting parts, anyway. But he has yet to grapple with the thought of leaving Ayaka behind the day he finally succumbs to power and desire. Just thinking about it makes his blood run cold. And if he were to be a good clan head, like they say, the duty of continuing the bloodline naturally lands with him.

How is he supposed to continue the glory of the Kamisato bloodline, when he is so afraid of dying before he can see it all happen? When he can’t even allow himself to form any emotional attachments to any woman out of fear that his own untimely death will leave her brokenhearted?

He could not do that, not in good conscience.

The solution, then, is to marry a woman of gentle demeanour that would not get on his nerves, produce an heir, and most importantly, avoid falling in love at all costs.

𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞.

“Lord Kamisato.”

He only quickens his footsteps despite the repeated calls and equally fast-paced footsteps from behind him. The pleasant buzz of the ball grows quieter with every corner he turns, until he is finally alone with his thoughts.

The door to the study is roughly pulled open and before he can close it in a swift, angry motion, Y/N’s hand has already held onto it, forcing him to look at her.

His head is empty with nothing but fury. Seeing the girl in front of him, head held high and chest puffed out in her oh-so-annoying stubbornness is hardly doing anything to help. Ayato cannot understand why she is so insistent on following him to the study when what all that needed to be said had already been said? When she made it her life’s goal to clearly show her hatred towards him in every single thing she does, every single interaction they have? When she took every chance she gets to keep him away from her sister, his intended? What has he done to deserve such unrelenting malice?

His breathing grows heavier as he paces around the room, eyes scanning the stacks of documents on the desk but barely registering any of the words written on them.

“When will you leave?”

Taken aback by his sudden question, Y/N stands stunned and does not answer.

“Immediately after your sister finds a match?” Ayato sneers.

“I presume so, yes. Wh—”

He rests his hands on the desk then, as if holding onto the solid wood for support.

“And you will not concern yourself with finding a match of your own?”

“Why would that concern you?”

Ayato does not know why that would concern him at all. The family heirloom ring has been sitting safely inside the drawers of this very same desk for days now, waiting for the moment to finally adorn its new owner soon. Whatever Y/N decides to do with her life, who is he to question?

Even though he cannot recognize it yet, he secretly wishes she would stay.

Throwing his hands up in frustration, he stomps across the office, coming face to face with Y/N, the same unwavering expression on her face.

“It seems you will find any opportunity to keep your sister away from me! You simply do not like me!”

“Of course I do not like you!” Her attempts to stop her voice from rising any higher is proven futile, and the answer comes out in a near-shout.

“Have I done something to you? Why is it that you dislike me so?”

Y/N’s lip quivers, but her eyes remain harsh. Had this been a few days ago when Ayato was trying to find ways to make her falter, he would have enjoyed this immensely. But caught up in the moment of red, hot anger, all he wants is to find the answer to the reason behind all her unkindness ever since the first day they met.

Her hands are balled into fists and the fabric of her gloves wrinkle under the pressure, before she finally blurts out the words that have been driving Ayato crazy.

“Because you vex me!”

“And what is it,” he seethes, “do you think you do to me?”

Marriage should not be difficult to him, not as the most eligible man in Inazuma. Marrying Emiko should not be difficult for him. Hell, even if this whole thing turns to shit, there’s plenty more fish in the sea waiting to take his bait.

So why is he so hung up on this one family? With the one person driving him absolutely insane every time he so much as thinks about her?

“What?”

The cocky upturn of her head only makes Ayato’s blood boil even more. If only he could show her all the things she is doing to him.

“What do I do to you?” She says through gritted teeth, her whole body slightly trembling with what can only be assumed as anger mirroring Ayato’s own.

Trying his hardest to compose himself, he takes one, and then another step forward until the space between them becomes almost nonexistent. The silence of the room is replaced with heavy breathing not just from him, but from Y/N as well. His vision blurs as he remembers the bitter taste of defeat, of rejection, of hatred, all coming from the woman before him.

“You hate me.”

When he speaks again, his voice is surprisingly calm.

Y/N holds her ground firmly and nods, “I do. I hate you.”

Had these words come from a man of a different commission, for example, Ayato is sure his fists would have done the talking a long time ago. The bothersome existence of the Kujou rascals trying to undermine Lady Hiiragi feels like nothing compared to the aggravating way she spat out those words. Call him spoiled or entitled, but Ayato has never heard anyone so blatantly admitting to hating him, let alone a lady of high society.

The thoughts running through his head now are too scandalous for him to even admit them to himself. For a moment he can only stare at Y/N incredulously, watching her expressions – or rather, a lack thereof – slowly succumbing to her innermost feelings. He is sure he saw tears welling up in her eyes, but the next time he blinks, the same eyes are burning back into his again, the only evidence of any emotion being the trembling of her lip. The heavy breathing has somewhat quieted down, returning the study to its former stillness, but Ayato’s mind is screaming at him louder than ever.

He has been raised a gentleman, and he will handle this the way one does…

Or so he thinks.

“I am a gentleman,” he states, perhaps more to himself than to Y/N, but the step he takes towards her is proving all his self-convincing a lie. Whatever ungentlemanly thing his mind tells him to do, he has to physically chase them out with a violent shake of his head.

“And your heart is with my sister.”

All the screaming and yelling from before are reduced to a single whisper, and Ayato peeks at Y/N from under hooded eyes, the close proximity suddenly making it even more difficult to breathe in this stuffy room.

“And my heart…is with your sister.” He repeats, this time definitely to himself.

How can his heart rest with another woman when the one before him has intrigued every fibre of his being since the morning he saw her singlehandedly take down several monsters? How can his heart be with anyone at all, when all love brings is pain and despair?

Nothing in the world makes sense anymore as the both of them lean into each other, as if an invisible magnet is drawing them closer. All rationality leaves his brain when he is so close to her. He wants to stop. He needs to stop, but the voices of protest are drowned out by a sudden strong desire to kiss her right there. The shallow intakes of air from Y/N are only making his insides stir even more, her breathlessness mere inches from his face threatening to kick out what is remaining of his self-control.

“Say you do not care for me.” Ayato shuts his eyes as he lowers his head to her cheek, the heat emanating from her body putting him under a spell, “Tell me you feel nothing, and I will walk away.”

She lets out a small gasp. His plan is working.

If he just lowers his head a millimetre more, their lips would have locked in the most satisfying way possible. Yes, that sounds like a solid next step—

“Brother—oh god iamsosorry—”

The pair jumps away from each other like loaded springs at the sudden opening of the door, and Ayato feels all sorts of emotions ever known to man coming together inside him, a time bomb set to explode at any moment. Frustration, anger, and utter yearning for another human being he has never known before.

Ayaka’s eyes are wide and panic-stricken in a quick flash before she slams the door shut, and Ayato does not hesitate before chasing after her, leaving a breathless and dumbfounded Y/N alone in the study, her world turned upside down and her body on fire.

°•. ✿ .•°

The earliest rays of sunshine seep through the paper windows, leaving a pleasant glow on the scattered papers on Ayato’s desk. The Commissioner sleeps with his head resting on his folded arms, a half-dried pot of ink still open next to all the requests and accounts. He has not left the study all night, having returned to occupy his mind with budget records after a heated argument with Ayaka, a rare exchange of harsh words between the siblings.

At least, he wishes the paperwork could take his mind off of some things.

When Ayaka enters the study again, she makes sure to knock gently first.

“Brother?”

Ayato wakes with a jolt, eyes still heavy with sleep that quickly dissipates when he realizes the time. He has spent another night buried in work, again.

“Come in.”

The sheets are gathered and crinkled in one swift motion and he adjusts his collar, trying to make himself look somewhat less of a mess than he really is.

His flustered state becomes even more apparent when his sister walks in, already meticulously dressed despite the early hours.

“So…I take that things are going quite well?” Ayaka says with a voice too cheery even for her own liking as she studies the titles on the shelves, pretending to be particularly interested in one tome about botany.

“Lady Emiko is quite pleasant, indeed,” he answers, praying that the conversations of last night would not be brought up again, “she is beautiful, charming, and even wise – did you know she speaks three languages?”

Seeing that Ayaka does not respond, he quickly adds, “What exactly is your objection?”

His sister turns to study him instead, suddenly appearing older and wiser than her age that Ayato tries his best not to waver under her stare.

“I suppose I do not have any, then,” she retraces Ayato’s steps from yesterday in a slow pace around the room, “if you say that you and Lady Emiko are a good match.”

His victory smile freezes when Ayaka continues her monologue.

“If you say that Lady Emiko makes it…difficult for you to breathe around her, if she gives you that feeling of…”

“Of what?”

“Hm?” Ayaka finally looks up from the yellowed pages of the botany book. He doesn’t remember his sister ever being remotely interested in such a subject matter.

“The feeling that makes it impossible for you to look away from her, or to even stop thinking about her…as if your body will explode into flames whenever you are near each other…that’s the feeling of love, brother.”

Ayato’s smile is permanently wiped off his face now when she mentions the four-lettered word. Since when is his sister so enlightened in love and marriage?

“Do you feel that way about someone? Is there a gentleman that I need to personally meet—”

“If you do feel that way about Lady Emiko, then I am quite happy for you.”

He doesn’t attempt to steer away the topic again and remains silent as Ayaka finally shuts the book and leaves the room.

Love.

Out of the two of them, only Ayaka can afford to mention love when it comes to marriage. Even her status as a woman does not take away from the endless possibilities of a love match. To find someone who cares for you the way Father cared about Mother…that is a luxury Ayato will never have the privilege of enjoying.

His stomach is in knots and he suddenly feels nauseous, as if he is about to engage in a battle he is destined to lose.

No, he cannot risk falling in love.

Marriage is not a game of longing looks and smitten smiles. It is a duty that needs to be fulfilled if he cares anything about the future of the Kamisato Clan. It is about survival. If he does not take on that duty and Ayaka is married off to another clan, all the hard work of restoring their former glory will have gone to waste, and he will never forgive himself for it.

He doesn’t dare savouring Ayaka’s words any longer. His heart beats erratically, having yet to come down from the sudden panic of realization. When she described the feeling of love, only one person comes to mind. One person he cannot have, because falling in love means destroying her future the moment he is taken away by the vicious battles of superiority, power and fame.

The camellia flower has to bloom again, and Ayato has to make sure of it.

°•. ✿ .•°

The night is pitch black outside the estate, and Y/N can only see her own reflection in the window, the shadow dim and fading in and out of existence in the dark. First drops of rain splash against the glass, the sudden pitter patter making him jump. She sighs, still unable to find any trace of sleepiness despite the late hours.

Taking a lamp from the bedside table, she gives in and tiptoes out of the chamber, closing the door gently behind her to not wake Emiko up. She remembers passing by a beautiful library on the brief tour that Ayaka gave, and decides that reading a book about some boring subject may be her best shot at finally falling asleep.

In the study a few doors down the hallway, Ayato dips his brush into the pot of ink for the umpteenth time that night, signing his name in an elegant twirl of the pen on some ceremonial requests from the Tenryou Commission. The candle flickers, hot wax dripping down into the holder and instantly solidifies, becoming one with itself once more. Ayato glances at what is remaining of three burnt out candlesticks and rests his pen on the desk. Perhaps it is time to take a well-needed break from paperwork and turn in for the night.

He takes his coat from the chair beside him and slides open the study doors. A faint glow of light coming from behind the paper shoji makes him pause his footsteps. Did he leave a light on in the library by accident? Or did a servant forget to blow out all the candles earlier?

A loud thunder crashes, and he hears a shaky whimper. Ayato can feel his heart thumping in his chest now, and he takes quick, adrenaline-fueled steps to the source of the faint light.

When he opens the library doors, however, there is no one inside but a lone lamp on the table, set beside some thick tomes about botany. The room briefly flashes white as lightning strikes outside the window, and the whimper sounds again, this time from way closer. Ayato has never believed the ghost stories the elder retainers used to tell him when he was little, but he is coming close to wondering about their existence now.

“Hello?” He calls out in a hushed whisper, careful not to wake anyone else up.

A sniffle, then the squeal of a chair leg as it slides on the floor.

Ayato reaches for the lamp in defense, but his guard quickly lowers when he sees a shade of white beneath the maplewood desk.

“Y/N?”

Teary eyes meet his from the cocoon of the table, and the girl instinctively backs herself against the wood in an attempt to gain some footing.

His voice immediately softens upon seeing Y/N’s panicked state. Her knuckles are white from gripping onto her knees too hard, her entire body curled in the corner like a small child afraid of thunderstorms.

Oh.

“Is it the storm?”

She nods, barely able to meet his eyes as she looks away in shame.

“Got room for two?”

Without waiting for her response, Ayato sets the lamp on the floor next to them and crawls under the desk, the cramped position reminding him of the days where he played hide and seek with Ayaka in the very same room before one of the retainers scolded them for damaging the books. Y/N looks at him in confusion, the question swallowed by a new wave of panic as another bolt of lightning strikes, followed soon by a loud boom of thunder.

The small space and close proximity to Y/N makes Ayato’s head spin. His eyes are open, but he no longer registers the objects in front of him, the legs of a chair and the lamp only blurry shadows to him. Tossing aside all his logic, he reaches out to pry her hand away from their death grip on her knees. Her skin is cold but soft under his touch, the slight tremble only stopping after he firmly envelopes her hand in his palm.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like this. It must be quite unflattering.”

When she speaks again, her voice is steadier than before.

“Not at all.” Ayato smiles before he can stop himself, hoping the darkness will swallow the upturn of his lips before she can tease him.

Only she doesn’t.

“I’ve always been terrified of thunderstorms, ever since my mother died.”

Ayato doesn’t speak, and only listens as she rambles on to calm her nerves.

“I don’t know…it’s just lightning and we’re inside, I know they won’t hurt me, but I’m still overcome with fear every time. I thought it would get better as I grow older, but…”

She jumps and shrinks into herself even more when the thunder shakes the ground outside, her breathing becoming fast and erratic as if she has been submerged underwater for far too long.

“Hey, it’s okay.”

The manner in which he is holding her now has long passed what’s considered “appropriate” for a lady and a gentleman. At Y/N’s violent shaking, the only thing Ayato knows to do is to pull her closer to him, hoping his body heat and his soothing words can ease her suffering, even just by a little bit. His mind is blank and all he can think about is her intoxicating scent and how he would hold her like this for the rest of eternity if he had the choice.

His eyelids grow heavier with the day’s exhaustion, and as the storm finally passes, he feels Y/N’s tense muscles slowly relax in his arms. Staying up till the dead of the night is nothing new to Ayato, but he has never felt so comfortably safe as sleep begins to overtake him. Even the busiest day of official meetings and paperwork could not have given him the same sense of blissful fatigue that he has right now--under a desk, out of all places--with pins and needles in his foot from the awkward position. He is safe from the harsh reality of politics and jealousy and dark plots, even it’s just for a little while.

But you see, the choice was never his to make.

°•. ✿ .•°

The servants are busy lifting intricately decorated suitcases onto the carriage, and Ayato finds a moment of solitude in the soft sands of the courtyard while the world bustles around him. The festivities have drawn to a close and the Kamisato Clan has unsurprisingly executed every detail to surgical precision, that even Lady Naoki seldom had any comments about the capabilities of the siblings. Yes, that is exactly the future he wants for the Yashiro Commission.

Laughter rings from the front gates as the ladies bid each other goodbye. Ayato becomes increasingly restless, knowing that Y/N and Emiko will soon return to Lady Yae’s residence, and he will not get a chance to speak with them until whichever family decides to host the next ball. The younger sister looks visibly disappointed about something but tries to cover it up with a smile, bowing elegantly at every guest she passes by.

Ayato finds himself smiling. Rising to his feet, he makes a beeline to the gates, catching the ladies by surprise in the last moment before they ascend into the carriage.

Y/N’s face falls when she notices him, whatever words she was saying to her sister coming to an uncomfortable halt at his presence.

“Lady Emiko,” he dips his head in greeting and leaves a polite kiss on the soft skin of her knuckles.

“My lord,” the young girl returns the formality with renewed excitement, her smile much more genuine when Ayato finally straightens up to look at her.

Soft gasps sound from all around them when the Commissioner lowers to one knee, presenting a gorgeous jeweler’s box to the lady.

“Lady Emiko, will you please do me the honour?”

She is speechless and can only look at her sister in shock. Ayato feels like a carriage horse being blinded with invisible blinkers to the sides of his face, taking up all the willpower inside his body to keep his eyes focused on his future wife, and not the unpleasant woman beside her.

Surely if he believes the nasty words said about the older sister, he will start to like her less?

“Oh, of course, my lord!” Emiko squeals in pure delight, and the next few moments pass in a glorious blur of cheers and excitement.

Even with an overjoyed Emiko obscuring a good part of his vision, he still spots Ayaka standing next to Thoma, the smile on her face three shades darker than those around her. Ayato’s own grin fades too, suddenly remembering the whole love talk she gave not too long ago. He shakes the doubts out of his head and tells himself that this is the best choice to make, this is the only choice he can make.

𝐬𝐢𝐱.

If Ayato has had any doubts or second guesses about his proposal to Lady Emiko, he does not show them.

He doesn’t question the late night thoughts about his own wedding day, only to find himself wondering what dress Y/N would be wearing instead.

He doesn’t question the jeweler when he asks Y/N to model the ring for size adjustments as her hands are similar in size to that of Emiko’s, only to find himself wondering how beautiful the heirloom would look on her finger instead.

He also doesn’t question the perfect image of his and Emiko’s children running around the estate, playing tamari or hide and seek like he used to do, only to find himself wondering what the children’s faces would look like if they were his and Y/N’s instead.

He doesn’t allow himself to dip his toes into those deep waters, knowing that once he does, there can be no return.

A match with Y/N is doomed from the start, and now that the whole of Inazuma has already begun buzzing with excitement about his upcoming nuptials, there can be no going back.

Truth is, the proposal could have been a million times more glamorous had he taken an extra few days to plan it, and he knows Emiko deserves nothing less. No matter where Ayaka learned those deep philosophical words of love, he knows there is only one person that comes up in his mind whenever he thinks over those words again. A person he cannot afford to dream about. Every fibre of his being is so consumed by them that the brotherly duties of meeting Ayaka’s suitors have ceased to cross his mind.

The proposal was rushed, panicked even, all because he was too scared to face the possibility of admitting that the other sister is the one he’s been in love with all along.

What a coward that makes him.

°•. ✿ .•°

When Ayaka’s repeated attempts to get her brother to follow his heart fail, Ayato’s lies to himself become her burden too. Despite the elder Kamisato’s reassurances that nothing, in fact, happened between him and Lady Y/N in the library that night, Ayaka is no longer sure what she should do. Any word about their secret rendezvous can ruin both families for good, especially now that Ayato is engaged to be wed.

She has not gotten a good night’s sleep since, and she knows Ayato hasn’t, either. Part of her wants to say something before it’s too late, before she watches her brother go down a road he cannot return from. She watches worriedly as Ayato shoots daggers from his eyes at the gentleman engaging in an animated conversation with Lady Y/N.

“Brother?”

“What?” He blinks quickly to cover up any traces of his trance.

“Blue and pink would be a great colour combination for the wedding, don’t you think?”

“Hm? Yes, of course. My apologies.

Emiko smiles softly to alleviate some of the awkwardness, gracefully covering her lips with her fan.

“I heard Lady Yae is hosting a banquet this coming weekend to celebrate our engagement, I hope you will be in attendance, my lord?”

Ayato has to physically force himself to peel his eyes away from Y/N, who is now laughing heartily at some joke the gentleman cracked. His hands ball into fists behind his back, and for once he is grateful of the long sleeves of his coat that always appeared as more a nuisance for him.

“Of course we will be,” he clears his throat, “right, Sister?”

“Most definitely.”

“Oh, how delightful!” Emiko beams, and immediately fans herself to cover up her excitement.

Yes, delightful indeed.

°•. ✿ .•°

The Sacred Sakura glows a soft violet hue as the sun sets behind the mountains, and the courtyard is illuminated by the warm light coming from within the houses. Gone are the visitors offering prayer to Inazuma’s deity, the continued chatter coming from Lady Yae’s most distinguished guests instead.

Ayato finds himself seated between Emiko and Lady Takara, the only daughter of a lowly ranking officer in the Kanjou Commission. Though he has never met or spoken to the lady, he has heard rumours of the pressure her father placed upon her to marry into a rich and powerful family in order to preserve his own position in the commission. Of course, Ayato is naturally topping the list of most ideal husbands for her father.

The servants carry plates after plates of carefully prepared food, some of the arrangements so beautiful that one seldom dares to eat. From rose-shaped sashimi platters to tricolor dango made shaped into swimming fish – no doubt another one of Yoimiya’s own creations, the vibrant colours under the lamps doing a fair bit in clearing Ayato’s mind of the worries from the day.

“Lord Kamisato, I must congratulate you on your engagement to Lady Emiko,” Lady Takara says, and Ayato cannot help but notice the hint of jealousy in her voice.

Picking up on a hot, new topic of conversation, several pairs of eyes turn to a heavily blushing Emiko, and voices of congratulations chime in from all directions.

Ayato turns to look at his soon-to-be wife, who is now desperately trying to shrink into herself in the chair. He reaches out a hand under the table and rests on her knee, which shakes slightly below his touch. In the seat next to her, Y/N pretends not to hear the chatter and focuses intensely on the assorted plates of tempura.

Before either of the betrothed could respond in gratitude, Lady Takara takes it upon herself to continue the conversation, with a devilish smirk on her lips.

“Although…it is such a pity that Lord Fukuchi was a traitor.”

The room falls dead silent. Y/N’s chopsticks clatter as they fall to the ground.

“I beg your pardon?” Ayato’s hand freezes on Emiko’s knee, the girl suddenly looking terribly pale.

“Oh, did you not know? The Watatsumi resistance couldn’t have defeated the shogunate all by themselves had Lord Fukuchi not offered them intelligence, of course” Takara grins innocently, “he was a shogunate samurai before he betrayed the Almighty Shogun and joined those lowly rebels.”

“Lady Hinode, that is enough.”

Even with the somewhat teasing relationship between Ayato and the Guuji, the grand priestess’ stern look at the lady next to him is one that he has never seen before, not even when his mischiefs caused her another impending headache.

Ayato can now somewhat figure out why Takara’s father was never promoted despite all his years in the commission.

“But Lady Yae, aren’t you afraid that the lovely sisters you so kindly presented will turn out to be just like their father, a traitor right in the middle of the Yashiro Commission?” She bats her eyelashes pointedly at Ayato, but instead of the small windstorms he received from other ladies, Takara’s was an icy blizzard.

Seeing that no one else at the table dares to speak, Takara becomes ever more emboldened to sputter lies out of her mouth.

“Poor Lord Kamisato, I’m sure you’re not aware then, the little scheme the elder Fukuchi sister has been plotting all along? To get Lady Emiko to marry you and restore their tainted reputation with your pristine one? What a shame.”

“And you think your reputation is any better than mine?”

Y/N’s voice, barely above a whisper but colder than the winters of Snezhnaya.

Takara feigns an offended gasp, but her eyes turn a wickedly dark hue.

“You should be ashamed of yourself, Y/N. Taking advantage of Lord Kamisato’s favour like this. Your dirty little secret isn’t a secret anymore, the whole of Inazuma should know that you are vying for his lordship’s money and position, you greedy—”

“That is enough.”

Rage boils within Ayato’s chest and finally explodes as he stands with a sudden slap on the table, causing the silverware to tremble slightly. Every word that comes out of Takara’s mouth is another temptation for him to return the cruelty to her tenfold. Alas, a proper gentleman does not do such things…

Unless it hits him right where it hurts the most.

“I will ask you to leave the room, please, Lady Takara.” He says through gritted teeth after a long inhale.

“What? But surely you can’t—”

“Out. Now.”

Ayato’s tall figure towers over Takara’s, who appears smaller than ever but does nothing to stop his resolve. Seeing she does not move, he takes a threatening step forward before meeting Lady Yae’s eyes from across the table. He backs down a little, and repeatedly flexes his fingers under his sleeves to ease some of the anger. He cannot lash out at a lady like this, no matter how much he wants to.

“You heard his lordship. Or would you rather be escorted out?” Lady Yae says flatly, but her eyes are glowing an ominous purple.

Takara scurries out the door with her tail between her legs, and it isn’t until then that everyone lets out a breath they didn’t know they were holding.

“I must apologize for her inappropriate behaviour,” Lady Yae finally speaks after an extended silence.

Ayato’s knuckles are white from balling his hands into fists too tight, and he has to take several breaths before he can speak normally.

“There is no need for this dinner to continue. Thank you very much for your hospitality, Lady Yae.”

He turns on his heels and swings open the door, leaving Emiko on the brink of tears and several mouths agape from around the room.

His footsteps are heavy and his heart pounds wildly in his chest, longing for nothing more than to be out of this damned confinement of a house.

“My lord,” the doors behind him shake as they are pushed open with such force, and in the dark of the night he almost sees the familiar hallways of the Kamisato Estate, in an evening similar to today’s and the same voice chasing after him.

“Y/N, I’m not in the mood to—”

“Please let me explain.”

He stops dead in his tracks hearing her ever so steady voice shake and falter. When he turns around, he sees a glimmer of tears in her eyes, and his heart wrenches painfully in his chest.

“What else is there to explain? You’re going to admit it’s all true, then?” He studies her from a distance away, not daring to stand any closer in fear of his innermost desires growing a mind of their own. Not now, not ever, especially not mere hours before he swears the rest of his life to Emiko.

“My father did leave the shogunate, yes, but you see, he never meant to betray Her Excellency in that way. He worshipped her, but forgive me, my lord, you cannot understand how much the Sakoku Decree has hurt all of us on Watatsumi Island.”

Ayato does not speak, silently allowing her to go on.

Y/N stubbornly refuses to let her tears fall, “My mother…she lost her life because of it. The famine killed half of the village, and we would not have survived were it not for Madam Kokomi and my father. That’s what no one wants to tell you here on Narukami Island, because the truth is too hard to bear when there’s so much politics entangled in it! Please believe me, my lord, I never would have even thought about taking advantage of your money or position or title--”

He shuts his eyes and feels his nose sting, a telltale sign of an overwhelming amount of emotion inside him, a sign that he should go and be alone before anyone sees him lose face like this.

A long, shuddering breath later, Ayato finally gathers enough courage to look at her again.

“I’m calling off the engagement.”

“You’re what?”

He crosses his arms in front of his chest as if to brace himself from the impact of his own words. Seeing Y/N’s shock and disbelief, he allows her a few moments to collect her thoughts, but more so to convince himself that he wouldn’t immediately change his mind.

“What has my sister done to you? And don’t tell me you’re worried about the dowry – we both know you do not care for such things—what has she said? Or done? Or—”

“It is not her, it is you.”

Y/N is taken slightly aback by Ayato’s confession, and her eyes dart between his own, searching for an answer.

“This match is doomed from the start, and it is you who made it impossible.”

“But I’m leaving! To Liyue or Fontaine or wherever—”

“And that is not fucking far enough!”

She lets out a small gasp at the strong language. Years of etiquette lessons tell him he should apologize and ask for forgiveness immediately, but he has no thought of such words when the world around him blurs and all that he sees is Y/N, her features illuminated by the soft moonlight.

“Do you think there is any corner in this world that you could travel to far enough to free me from this torment? You could be amongst the gods in Celestia, and I would still burn for you.”

Her breaths are coming in short and hurried huffs as he takes one, two and three steps closer to her, until they are nearly touching.

Memories of that evening in the study come rushing back to Ayato, and he suppresses the urge to reach for her, to finally hold her in his palm as to ease the pins and needles in his heart, stabbing at him every moment of every day. He can no longer tell if he wants to kiss her senseless or to engage in a duel to let off all the pent up steam. Spots cloud his vision and all he knows is that as long as she walks this earth, he will not get a moment of peace.

“I am a gentleman, I am a man of honour,” he mumbles, lifting his eyes to bore directly into hers, “but that honour is hanging by a thread that only grows more precarious with every moment I spend in your presence.”

Y/N lets out a small whimper, and something in Ayato’s insides stirs.

He dares taking another step forward until there is barely any space between them. It is suddenly very hot. Too hot for his liking. He feels sweat down his back even in the cool evening air atop the mountains. Nothing in the world makes any sense to him anymore, and he only wants to put a stop to this foreign sensation of being so flustered and restless.

Every shallow breath that Y/N exhales becomes Ayato’s next inhale, and he no longer knows where he ends and where she starts. His eyes flicker down to her lips and back to her eyes with measurable difficulty, until he finally whispers the words he has been dying to tell her.

“You are the bane of my existence, and the object…of all my desires.” His voice breaks as he fights to stay afloat in the ocean of emotions, “Night and day, I dream for you.”

She lets out a shaky sigh, and he is only encouraged to go on.

“And I…” A sharp intake of breath and his nostrils are filled with the sweet scent of Sakura blooms, one that haunts his dreams every time he closes his eyes, “Do you even know all the ways a lady can be seduced?”

A hand, coming up to rest at the curve of her hips, longing to go further.

“The things I could teach you…”

A dip of his head, nose grazing against hers. It tickles slightly and he wants to laugh, but he cannot fathom any other thing to do when he is so close to where he wants her the most.

“The things I could show you…”

A slight pull, and she is pressed flush against him, the bodies fitting each other’s perfectly and his lips mere millimetres away from hers that he can almost taste her.

Oh, how he wants to capture them with his own and imprint that sensation on his mind forevermore.

Y/N’s eyes flutter shut and for a moment Ayato almost believes that she is going to let him kiss her. But she turns her head to let out a pained sigh this time.

“I did not ask for this��to be plagued by these feelings, hiding from my sister…to be driven to madness every time you enter the room…”

He lets himself smile. Is that an admission?

The hand comes up to rest on her cheek now, tucking away a stray strand of hair behind her ear. He can almost see her, even behind closed eyelids, and feel every dip and curve of her features resting in his palm, burning skin against burning skin.

Ayato chases after the thrill of inching ever closer to her. If they brush lips by accident, surely that wouldn’t be so inappropriate?

But her words. Plagued by her feelings and imitating his own distraction whenever they are in each other’s presence. The skies could come crashing down and the world could be burning, but he wouldn’t have minded as long as she is in front of him. She is his whole universe.

“So you agree,” he rests his forehead against hers and whispers, “it is insupportable.”

They stay like this for another blissful moment and time seems to stop, the surface of the water perfectly still.

“Impossible.”

A sharp ripple, and the mirror of the smooth water shatters like broken glass.

Despite the shaking of her head, he indulges himself in their proximity for just a second more. He can feel the plump of her lips touching his own like a ghost, and immediately vanishing. It takes everything within his willpower and probably that of the seven archons to finally pull away from her, shaking his head a little too hard that his brain starts to hurt, as if the motion could somehow discard all his thoughts.

His father would have been proud at this display of self-restraint. His earlier indulgences? Not so much.

Y/N backs to a safe distance away from him and finally lets tears well up in her eyes. Ayato wants to run his thumb down her cheek and catch those that fall, and make sure they never have to fall again so long as he walks this earth.

“Please don’t break the engagement. Promise me.”

He looks at her, and he can feel his heart breaking into a million pieces. A heart that others do not believe he has.

“I’ve given everything I have so that Emiko can grow up outside the shadows of our past. Please don’t break her heart. Please.”

Ayato sighs. Is it also part of her duty, making sure that her family can get all the good things they deserve? Even if it comes at the cost of her own happiness?

In that moment, he suddenly realizes that he and Y/N are not so dissimilar, after all. “I promise.”

𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧.

A shamisen plays a cheerful tune, and the Kamisato Estate is filled from wall to wall with guests. Those not participating in the social season have occupied every inch of available space between the trees along the path up Chinju Forest, awaiting the arrival of the new Kamisato mistress.

Ayato is dressed in a somewhat uncomfortable hakama, the ceremonial wear tied too tightly around his waist. Even the servants have put on their best clothes in preparation for the big day. Thoma has made it his life’s mission to ensure that this is a wedding Inazuma will talk about for years to come, and the blond Mondstater is now running from room to room, meticulously checking off every detail on his notebook.

The young commissioner sighs. Luckily, the word from last night’s dinner had not gotten out, and if Lady Naoki knew about it, she wisely kept her mouth shut. Ayato has sworn to never question or betray the Almighty Shogun, the blessings of which had made him who he is today. He finds console in the fact that Emiko was too young to have known about her father’s indecencies, and marrying her doesn’t make his devotion to Her Excellency any less sincere. He can only hope that the Shogun will allow it this once.

Solemn music plays and the guests settle, and he watches as Ayaka descends the aisle to join him. He quickly lets himself imagine the day he will have to walk her down the aisle, and pride swells in his chest. She has grown into such a fearless young woman—

His breath hitches in his throat, and time feels as if it has permanently stopped.

Y/N, dressed in the softest shade of lilac, trailing behind Ayaka.

His vision blurs like a Kamera that has gone out of focus, until the only clear image he can see is her. The lilac fabric looks almost an ivory white under the sunlight, and a million thoughts combust in his mind. Forget about walking Ayaka down the wedding aisle, this must be what it feels to die and ascend to Celestia.

He forgets about the eyes watching him, and even ignores Emiko after her, arm liked with Lady Yae’s. Y/N’s eyes briefly meet his and quickly shies away, as if catching a glimpse of something she was never meant to see. He knows he should be looking at his bride instead, returning her smile and basking in the excitement of marriage. But even as Emiko makes her way to the end and stands before him, all he can think about is Y/N being here, dressed from head to toe in that pure innocent white.

Lady Yae’s voice feels like it’s coming from a thousand miles away, and the ambiance of the courtyard feels like nothing but a low buzz of noise in his now wiped-out mind.

Why is Y/N here? And her dress…has turned into a wedding uchikake? She smiles softly at him, and he almost melts into a puddle beneath her feet.

He blinks, and it is Emiko’s face once again, concern pouring from her eyes.

“Lord Kamisato?”

The Kamera in mis mind finally shifts its focus and his vision becomes clear again. Lady Yae studies him with suspicion, and the guests whisper quietly to each other.

“Forgive me.”

The Guuji continues with her prepared speech, but not before throwing Ayato one more questioning look.

He clears his throat to regain his composure. As if on cue, one of the many glittering and dangling pins on Emiko’s head falls, making a delicate rattle as it hits the ground.

“Oh!” She exclaims softly in surprise, turning around to look for the culprit but stopped by the rigid pose she is stuck in from her rather large and bulky dress.

“Allow me.” Ayato bends down to reach for the hairpin, not registering that Y/N has started to do the same until both their hands lay on the kanzashi at the same time.

Their eyes meet and in that split moment, the world turns black once again.

Neither of them makes any intention to stand up from their crouched positions, and neither can remove their gaze from the other’s.

Is it fate? Coincidence? A sign from the gods?

Somewhere above his head, he hears Emiko gasp, snapping him back into reality. Y/N stands in a movement as swift as lightning, lifting her hand to try to place the pin back into her sister’s hair but is suddenly stopped by an uncharacteristically violent shake of her head.

Emiko looks at her sister, mortified, then at Ayato, then back to her sister again, before gathering her dress in a moment of panic and running away, disappearing into one of the doors as everyone gapes in disbelief.

Murmurs erupt from among the guests, and Y/N’s own panicked eyes lock with his for only a second and she, too, runs away from the altar, shoving the hairpin in Ayato’s hand in a hurry.

“What is happening?” The Shogun questions, clearly displeased at the commotion.

“It seems the bride has run away, Your Excellency,” the okuzumeshuu next to her explains unhelpfully. Were it not for the dire situation, Ayato would have laughed at the stern glare the Shogun sent in her bodyguard’s way, but he decides it better to chase after Emiko, too.

His shoes make heavy thumps across the floor as he searches around every corner and peeks into every room, looking for the ladies’ whereabouts. When he turns to the hallway that houses the guest bedrooms, he hears a scream that stops him dead in his tracks.

“I didn’t ask you about the reputation thing, because I trusted that you knew what’s best for us. Why can’t I for once make my own damn decisions? For myself?”

“Because this is the best choice you have! Don’t you want to be happily married? Isn’t that what you always wanted?”

“But you’ve been in love with him all along! And you never thought to tell me, to stop this embarrassment from happening?”

“Emiko, I said I’m sorry—I don’t know what else there is to say!” Y/N’s voice, angry tone matching her sister’s.

“So you admit, you’re in love with him?”

“I—”

Ayato doesn’t dare breathe. Through the small gap in the door, he sees Y/N, shoulders slumped and eyes lowered to the floor. Across from her, Emiko appears a complete stranger. Gone are her shy and quiet demeanour, and she looks as if she could eat Y/N alive, a sight that would frighten anyone who knows her.

Even with the worry that Emiko would explode at any moment, Ayato feels his heart thumping haphazardly in his chest. Why isn’t Y/N denying it? If she says no, if Emiko believes her, there’s still a chance at salvaging this wedding, one that he so desperately needs.

But despite so, part of him silently pleads for a sign, any sign that Y/N loves him, too.

Emiko laughs coldly, and lets her arms fall to her sides. Y/N looks smaller and more vulnerable than he has ever seen her. Had he not known for sure that this is the same person who always had something witty and sharp to say, he would not have believed that the woman a few steps away from him are capable of doing such things.

“I see.”

The younger sister does not speak, and disappears behind the screen without another look behind her shoulder. Y/N suddenly bursts into a sob, and turns to bolt outside the room, not wanting to spend another minute in its cursed presence, running head on into Ayato.

“Lady Y/N—I know I’m the last person you want to see right now, but please—”

“Leave me alone.” She replies tearfully, and stomps down the hall in search of a shelter, anywhere that could hide her away from the guests, the Shogun, her sister, and most of all, Ayato.

The commissioner chases after her without a second thought, muttering under his breath about how the pair seems to be in constant pursuit of each other day in and day out. Just why are they always running after each other down every hallway that exists in Inazuma?

Before Y/N could shut the door to a nearby storage closet, Ayato grabs her wrist with more force than he intended. She snaps her hand away from him, and they engage in a brief exchange of outstretched fingers and evading grasps as she tries to pry his grip off of her, the offender unrelenting in his determination to keep ahold of her.

In the distance, footsteps grow louder until Ayato catches a glimpse of an unknowing servant, arms full with fresh linens and heading in their direction while humming a quiet tune to herself. Even the servants are in particularly good spirits today despite all the housework, a state of mind Ayato only wishes he could afford.

With no time to think, he forces himself into the cramped space and pulls the door to a close behind him, Y/N protesting silently through her pushes and spiteful looks.

She collapses against the wall, chest heaving with choked sobs. The air seems to thin in the small storage closet, and she gasps for oxygen, her heartbeat echoing in her ears.

Ayato watches her. There is nothing for him to do except watching. He wants to hold her, tell her things will be okay, but how can he promise those words when he no longer believes that himself?

When the servant finally passes without any suspicion of the panic contained in the room, Ayato lets out a breath of relief. He opens his mouth, but is interrupted by Y/N’s voice, hoarse and breaking at every syllable.

“Are you satisfied now?”

“Satisfied? Why would I be?”

“All the things you said to me…did to me…do you just expect me to forget them all?”

“What?”

She throws him an accusing glare, and Ayato lowers his head in defeat. Had the roles been reversed, he’s not sure if he could maintain his honour, either.

Every rational thought remaining in his head tells him that he should go, get out of this closet before anyone discovers them and spreads even nastier rumours, but he physically cannot begin to lift his feet, as if invisible chains had bolted him to the floor. He is in pain, but he won’t admit it to anyone, least of all Y/N.

“You shouldn’t be here.” She finally says, slightly more collected than before.

“Neither should you.”

She huffs and stands from her slouched position, straightening out her dress and reaches for the door handle, but not before turning to face him one last time.

“Goodbye, my lord.”

Y/N holds Ayato’s gaze for a second too long, and he loses the rest of his conscience. Eyes still stained with tears, filled with so much pain, longing and regret that she can no longer hide.

In that moment, all the logic that Ayato has ever known disappeared to the back of his mind, and only one thought remains. He loses himself and without thinking twice, he grabs Y/N’s wrist, spins the shocked girl around, pins her to the wall and presses his lips onto hers.

A silent protest dies in her throat, flailing arms soon finding their place on his back, his neck, and eventually tangled into his hair. He kisses her with so much long repressed fervour, and he can only hope that it is enough to convey the feelings he has denied himself for far too long. It could never be enough.

When she gently tugs at the roots of his hair, something snaps within him and he lets out a low, primal growl. He trails his fingers up the round of her cheek, then down her back to the small of her waist, memorizing the beautiful curves of her body, as if this is the last time he will ever kiss her again. And if Emiko’s outburst is any good of an indication, this might very well be the last time he will see her.

Air is no longer a necessity as their lips crash onto each other’s. Behind closed eyes, stars explode and fireworks blossom into golden florets of sparkle and light. He craves to taste her, smell her, feel her every day for the rest of his life, and he cannot fathom holding another woman ever again. Is it regret? Shame? Thinking back to the nights he’s spent in the arms of strangers, tossing a few coins in exchange for a brief moment of ecstasy. Even though he did not know Y/N at that time, he wants to slap himself for ever indulging in the sensual caresses of other women.

He only wants to be held by her, touched by her, loved by her.

When they finally break from each other, Ayato feels a sense of sudden emptiness. He lowers his head to press a few more gentle kisses to her lips, savouring the way they fit into each other like missing puzzle pieces.

With hands still holding onto him for dear life, Y/N lets out a shuddering breath and looks up at him, their heads only far away enough from each other’s for him to see her clearly.

“What…just happened?”

°•. ✿ .•°

The Shogun is not happy with the wedding. Or rather, the lack thereof.

Lady Yae has apologized on Ayato and Emiko’s behalf so many times, but nothing could stop the gossips running through every alley of Inazuma. The bride of the Yashiro Commissioner leaving him at the altar. What a shame that brings to the Kamisato Clan.

After carefully exiting the storage closet like runaway criminals, he mustered enough courage to find Emiko. He wasn’t afraid of facing her, per se, but rather at the thought of having to somehow carry on with the wedding as if he didn’t just completely give his heart to another.

With every word he says, he feels guilt piling onto him like a small mountain. Yes, I do love you. And no, nothing happened between me and your sister.

If his father was still alive, Ayato is no longer sure if he would be proud to call him his son. And that’s what hurts the most.

No. What hurts the most is knowing that he can never love anyone the way he loves Y/N, but is still duty-bound to marry her sister instead. It scares him, realizing that his father’s opinions are no longer at the forefront of his moral compass like they have always been, ever since the night he received his Vision.

He sits with his face in his palm. Beside him, Ayaka paces the length of the library to the point that he fears the wood is rubbed shiny from all her walking. Several times she opens her mouth, but chooses to keep her words to herself.

“You can say ‘I told you so’. And can you please stop pacing.” Ayato finally says, letting out an exhausted sigh.

His sister only looks at him with what can only be described as pity. And he despises it.

“I do feel sorry for you, Brother. I really do.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

She pulls up a chair and seats herself across from him, forcing him to finally free his face from the shield of his hands.

“Ayato. You deserve to be happy.”

“What choice do I have?” He snaps, the words coming out harsher than he intends and he immediately regrets talking to his sister like this.

“Oh, but you have so many choices! You’ve spent your life living for other people, don’t you think it’s time you start living for yourself, too?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t get to decide who or what I live for. You and I both know that I owe everything I have to the commission and to our clan.”

“That is simply not true!” Ayaka stands, her voice raising an octave in frustration.

“I don’t expect you to understand.”

“No, I really don’t.” She says, making her way to the door, “But I hope you think on what I’ve said, Brother. If you are set on making your life as miserable as possible, I cannot stop you.”

When the room quiets down again after Ayaka’s annoyed departure, her words still hang densely in the air.

A seat cushion on the armchair nearest to him becomes his unfortunate victim as he throws it to the floor in a sudden outburst. Deep inside, he feels fear. Fear of losing control of his emotions like this, of people finding out the truth, of accepting the truth himself. Moreover, he tastes the bitterness of guilt with every breath he takes, his own mistakes putting Ayaka’s future in jeopardy. And if his sister never finds a husband from a family downfall brought about by his utter inability to fulfill his duty, he would never let himself live it down.

He wants to scream off the top of his lungs. When he looks around blindly in search of anything to confide his feelings in, he realizes that the only person he would want to talk to is Y/N. Even if that means hearing her call him the biggest idiot alive. Since when did he go from being annoyed by her wittiness to craving the sound of her voice? Why can he never get enough of her, even when she makes him lose absolutely every last bit of patience?

No, it’s not hard to see why.

She vexes him, too.

°•. ✿ .•°

Ayaka has decided that the best course of action to avoid scandal is to pretend like nothing ever happened. You suspect something unspeakable has happened between the Kamisato Clan and the Fukuchi Clan? Must be an unfounded rumour. Look at the two families taking a nice stroll together, even when every other person they acknowledge on their walk acts as if they never knew them at all, as if a simple “good morning” would somehow spread the curse of scandal to their own families.

They are like a disease, and everyone in high society knows that. But Ayaka won’t let them win easily.

After all, why act like you are guilty of a crime when there is nothing to be forgiven for?

On this fine evening, the two clans are scheduled to attend the closing show of the Irodori Festival. Ayaka has left early to help Yoimiya with the last of the preparations, and Ayato wouldn’t see her again until after the festivities conclude. Relieved from the constant finger-pointing and whispers, Ayato slips away from the crowd, hidden by the dark of the night, and finally finds some solitude in a pavilion nestled in a meticulously kept garden.

He sinks onto the plush seats, letting out a long sigh of relief. Though he never cared much for what other people thought of him, he has to admit that the last few days have been more exhausting than any work has been for years. Maybe he still doesn’t care much about being the topic of gossip at tea time in every household, it is the fact that he dragged those he loves into this mess that weighs down on him the most.

In the quiet of the garden, he remembers Ayaka’s warnings again.

Don’t you think it’s time you started living for yourself, too?

Perhaps it is finally time.

Before he can even mouth those words to himself, the golden koi in the pond scatter away into deeper waters, startled by a sudden noise.

He springs to his feet in alarm, and immediately lets down his guard when he sees Y/N, in a different shade of purple this time, looking clearly more unpleased than the last time he saw her. He can’t blame her. What else is there to be pleased about these days?

When she notices him, she stops in her tracks at the bottom of the steps.

“Oh.”

Ayato gestures at the now vacant seat, and she shakes her head.

“My apologies. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“No, I was actually just leaving.”

She eyes him questioningly, knowing all too well that being back in the crowd is the last thing on both of their minds.

“Are you, though?”

He gestures at the seat again, “I insist.”

Still unmoving, Y/N glances Ayato from head to toe, as if trying to find any evidence of his distress. Perhaps it would make her feel better knowing that she wasn’t alone in feeling like the world has fallen apart.

Ayato grows slightly impatient.

“Is it so difficult to agree with anyone, for once?”

“I don’t have to agree with you.”

Only a few days without speaking to each other, and how he (does not) miss the sarcasm with which she responds to his every request.

“You have been like this from the day we met. Utterly relentless, stubborn, and— I don’t know how you can communicate to anyone when you don’t even yield to plain common sense.”

It wouldn’t really be fair to take his anger out on her, but every time he meets her headstrong gaze he feels an irrepressible anger, like fuel poured onto a roaring flame. She is simply aggravating.

“I can see why that must be so difficult for a man like you to accept, you’re used to giving people orders and having everyone follow them,” she says coldly, deciding to end the conversation there before either of them takes it a step too far, “good night, my lord.”

“I do not give orders—”

“You do. And I won’t be another person that blindly does everything you say.”

“Perhaps you should start to listen at least!”

“Oh, I will never listen to you! Anyone but you,” she almost yells now, defying every rule ever made for ladies of high society, “The fact that you’re only now realizing that I do not want to take any orders from you—”

“You want to know why?” The flame of anger burns higher, and Ayato takes a threatening step forward.

“I don’t even think you know why yourself!”

“But I do.”

Y/N throws up her hands and rolls her eyes in annoyance, “Great, enlighten me with your obviously sharp sense of self awareness—”

“Because I have never met anyone like you.” He interrupts, voice calmer than he feels inside. Y/N suddenly grows quiet, gaping at him in a moment of delightful wordlessness. Ayato takes a sharp inhale through his nose to try to suppress the millions of voices in his head, “It is maddening. How much you consume every fibre of my being.”

She huffs and looks away from him impatiently, but makes no intention of leaving.

“My family is on the brink of ruin, and so is yours. I have royally fucked up my sister’s only chance at a good, happy marriage, and everyone in my family and the Commission probably despise me, despite the fact that I’ve lived my entire life for them, and—” he takes another sharp inhale, “and yet all I can ever think about, all I see every night when I close my eyes, all I find myself being able to breathe for…”

Y/N’s brows furrow in thought, her hardened expression softening for just the slightest touch.

“…is you.”

She opens her mouth but no sound comes out.

“Do you think I want to be in this position any more than you do?”

A shake of her head, eyes downcast.

“Do you even know that at every moment of every day, I have to fight the urge of acting on the most…impure, forbidden desires, all because you—because I have to remind myself that I’m a gentleman, and you’re a lady…”

A third inhale, this time with his nose inches from the nape of her neck, and he feels more lightheaded than the time Thoma put the worst possible things in his bowl for the hot pot game.

“…of that scent…sakura blooms…”

Y/N gasps at their close proximity. Ayato spends another blissful moment engulfed in her sweet scent, breathing it in like a drowning man deprived of oxygen for far too long. He closes his eyes and savours the memory of his lips on her skin, until he finally forces himself to take a step back, the separation like sharp blades cutting in his flesh even though they were never touching in the first place.

“You have to stop.” He whispers.

“I have to stop?” She asks in disbelief, voice increasing several decibels, “It’s been you this entire time, turning my world upside down, making me doubt everything I have ever told myself…”

She takes a moment to breathe, finally freed from the constraints of his hovering figure, “I came here determined to get a brand new start for my family. Everything that I have ever done—”

“Has been for them.” Ayato cuts in, and Y/N repeats the same words in a whisper.

Forget about the orders given, orders received, questions unasked, questions unanswered. Behind the thick curtains of ivies and vines that obstructed his vision, he sees a version of himself in the woman before him. Having given up their everything for the ones they love, having convinced herself at an early age that this life, although unfair, is the only one she could live. There is simply no other option.

It is in that moment he suddenly comes to an acceptance of Ayaka’s advice.

Y/N’s voice suddenly breaks, “You are the one who must stop,” she shakes her head again, her silent plea getting lost in the sound of fireworks exploding and onlookers cheering, and she says it again, “you’re the one who must stop…before…”

“Before what? Before we finally do something for ourselves?”

She only looks at him with those eyes, filled with sorrow but an unrelenting force behind them keeping her strong, and he feels his self-control slowly but surely starting to wane with every passing moment.

After what happened in the storage closet, he cannot let such scandal happen again, not now, probably not ever. Even if there is nothing he wants more than to feel her against him.

“Please go inside.” The words seem to get stuck in his throat, and he whispers them with great difficulty.

She only stands a little taller, her feet unmoving and her gaze never leaving his.

“Go. Inside.” He repeats, a storm already brewing behind the tiniest upraise of an eyebrow.

“What did I tell you about you and your orders?”

Something snaps inside him, the look in Ayato’s eyes turns dark and dangerous. If he could see himself in a mirror, he probably would not even recognize the man in the reflection, Y/N bringing out a side of him that he carefully tucked away long ago.

The tension is so thick it could be cut with a knife. She does not waver, not even after seeing the storm in his eyes.

This woman will be the end of him, and in this moment he could not care less.

In one quick stride, he collides into an eager Y/N and pulls her towards him with a hand on her cheek, their lips finally meeting the second they crash into each other’s body.

His hands are no longer shy and make bold movements across her back, her waist, and down further, exploring every inch of her body like a treasure map waiting to be found. His touch leaving a blazing trail on her skin, and he desperately wants to feel more of her. Every spot he reaches, his hand only remaining for long enough to feel her burn before he selfishly moves to unexplored territory.

As he kisses her, an unwelcoming thought bubbled up from the back of his mind and refuses to leave, only growing louder by the second. It isn’t right to take advantage of her like this. She knows nothing about lust and desire and what it means to wholeheartedly crave someone, and what it entails. He might have been a capital R Rake with his frequent visits to the brothels, but he cannot allow himself to break Y/N’s innocence just for a moment of his own pleasure.

The Ayato from a few weeks back would have been puzzled about his sudden development of honour. A man who has spent night after night in the arms of strangers do not change in the blink of an eye like this, but Y/N has somehow made it happen. He knows that there isn’t a single part of him that does not belong to her now.

She lets the tiniest moan slip past her lips, and Ayato’s last line of defence comes crashing down like a house of cards. An almost animalistic growl escapes from his throat as he forcibly breaks the kiss, the girl instinctively reaching for him blindly in a moment of frustration from denied pleasure.

“I must stop,” he says, his breath still escaping him.

“Do not stop.”

He repeats his declaration with what little conviction he has left in his body, even though all he wants to do is to sink back into her kisses and never break away again. His mind is foggy, and his eyes seeing nothing but pure, unfiltered lust.

“Do. Not. Stop—”

And that’s all he needs to capture her mouth once again before the words even have time to reach his ears. He grows bolder still, grabbing her dress by the handful and hiking the fabric up to her waist, the exposed skin of her thigh burning under his nimble fingertips. His body is on fire and his head spinning, every single thing he has ever known replaced by her name and her name only.

And when she reaches for the buttons on his coat, his shirt and eventually slides it down his shoulders, he is finally able to put into words the meaning of his entire existence.

He’s been waiting for a lifetime for her. He was not looking for love until he found her, and when he lowers his head to press open-mouthed kisses on the woman pulling him closer, he is convinced that she is an angel on earth, an angel sent just for him despite all his sins. And he will never fall in love unless it’s her that he is falling into.

𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭.

Y/N slams the door with a loud bang, not caring if the sound would wake anyone up, and sinks to the floor.

Then she stands. And paces. And sits back down again.

She runs her hands through her hair in frustration, feeling tears already welling in her eyes.

His fingers combed through her luscious locks. The fancy hairstyle is now in shambles as he hungrily reaches for more of her, as if he wanted to permanently mold himself into her.

She takes several breaths to try to regain her footing, to feel more present in reality.

She pulled back reluctantly out of her damned need of oxygen, but the air was filled with his scent. Like snow-covered pine, like a clear spring running through an endless field of white.

She tugs at her nightgown. The flowy fabric feels positively suffocating.

Goosebumps. The thrilling, tingly, hair-raising kind. Everywhere all at once. She shuddered when the cold night air hit her exposed skin, but when he ran a hand down her back, she felt like she was on fire.

She opens the window, half hoping it would somehow ease the haphazard thumping of her heart.

She could hear her own heartbeat in her ears as he trailed a line of kisses down the side of her face, her neck, her chest, and going even lower….

Until she was certain she would explode right there.

The sounds escaping her lips have long passed the threshold of what was appropriate, but they were music to his ears. Better than any band he had ever heard perform in all the ceremonies he’d attended. Despite having sworn off of alcohol, he felt drunk. Intoxicated. Lightheaded. It was the smell of her, the taste of her, that hooked him and would not let go.

He had never felt a woman tremble beneath him the way that she did.

The little gasps and whimpers shot straight down to the pit of his stomach. He wanted more. He needed more. And he would give anything in the world to hear them everyday for the rest of his life. He would do anything for her.

He picked up the pace of his movements and she simply fell apart, fingers tangled in his hair and pulling on the roots, earning a low grunt against where she needed him the most. She let out a loud moan and he grew even more impatient then, lifting her legs up to rest on his shoulders as he continued devouring her like a man starved of food for days.

For the first time in his life, he no longer cared about his own pleasure, his own release.

All he wanted was to hear her again, and taste her sweetness as she succumbs to her innermost desires, all for his eyes only.

It brought him peace, and maybe just a little bit of pride—okay, a lot—knowing that he was the first, and hopefully the last, man to see her like this. It’s selfish, but he wanted her all to himself. If that meant he could have her for the rest of time, he suddenly didn’t think the Shogun’s notion of eternity would be so bad, after all.

And when she finally came undone against his scorching kisses, his name being the only syllable she could muster, he was sold. Utterly, completely lost in the bliss and daze of this crazy thing called love.

He didn’t believe in love before, but that was because he hadn’t met her yet.

But when he woke, she was gone. Like a fever dream, she was gone without a trace.

And he has never dressed himself faster.

°•. ✿ .•°

“I need to see Lady Y/N. Now.”

Ayato repeats rather impatiently, pushing past the guards standing outside her residence. The latter tries to stop him to no avail, and backs down with heads lowered.

“My lord, it seems Lady Y/N is not here—”

“I can wait.”

The maid pauses, stunned at Ayato’s resolution.

Just as he starts to wring the water from his rain-soaked coat, a stable boy hurries in, failing to catch his breath.

“One of the horses are missing.”

Ayato freezes, a thousand thoughts come rushing into his mind. He charges out the door, ignoring the dull pain from the heavy raindrops hitting his body, and jumps onto his own horse.

There is only one place she could be.

The horse trots down the mountain, the sound of its hooves against the stone path a symphony with the rain, but Ayato is too preoccupied to take notice. He gives the stallion another squeeze with his legs, urging it to go even faster. The wind blows mercilessly against his face, clouding his vision. He knows it is dangerous to speed up any further in a steep decline like this, but he has only one thing on his mind.

To get to Y/N before she does anything stupid.

Through the mist and fog, he suddenly notices a hooded figure, galloping towards the beaches that face the towering buildings of Inazuma City.

“Lady Y/N!” He calls out, voice barely discernable against the heavy rain.

She does not turn. If anything, she goes even faster.

He calls again, not daring to rush the horse any further. The heavy rain makes it difficult for him to see anything beyond what’s immediately in front of him, and Y/N’s shadow disappears and reappears in the fog like a phantom, luring him to go closer.

When he finally sees his surroundings, his blood runs cold. Several oversized shadows lurk behind the trees, disguised by the mist and rain and everything in between. They take one step, then another, towards an unsuspecting Y/N, who is still racing at top speed towards archon-knows-where.

Always running away from her problems. And from him.

When one of the shadows raises what can only be described as an unproportionally big hammer and aims it at the girl on horseback, Ayato’s blood runs cold.

“Y/N, watch out!”

His voice is drowned out and he can only watch in pure horror as a bolt of lightning strikes, only that it wasn’t from the skies.

He opens his mouth to scream, but no sound comes out.

A hand to the hilt of his sword and his trusty weapon glimmers a cerulean blue in the dark, contrasting with the gloom and death around him. When he is finally close enough to see the Fatui’s faces – not that there’s much to see, anyway, they’re all going to be dead soon – he hops off of the stallion and charges into them without a second thought.

The harbingers are taken by surprise at seeing the Kamisato heir himself before them. They do not hesitate, though. They had one order and one order only: either get him to their side, or to rid the Tsaritsa of this threat to her power.

“Looks like someone is here to negotiate.”

“I think you know better than that.”

The hammer swings, and Ayato expertly dodges its impact with a hydro illusion. The garden of purity rains down on the harbingers, to the point where one can no longer distinguish between the camellia petals and the heavy raindrops.

“Maybe you didn’t hear me last time, but you would really do well to update your intelligence about me,” he grunts as he charges at a geochanter, “and keep your fucking hands off of my wife.”

He pauses. He wants to slap himself.

Wife?

What the hell is wrong with him?

He mouths the word again, the syllable rolling off his tongue effortlessly, so familiar as if he has been saying it since the day he was born.

Is that who she is to him?

The Fatui stand stunned, too. As faulty as their intel are, they are at least confident that they reported the right sister as the Commissioner’s intended.

Ayato snaps out of his trance. There will be plenty of time to overthink this later. While the Fatui are still gaping at each other, panicked that they chased down the wrong sister to kill, a quick flash of light and ashes are all that remain of the harbingers.

He rushes to Y/N’s side. The horse is nowhere to be seen, and even in the dark with their soaking clothes, he can clearly see a pool of crimson red around her midriff. Her eyes are shut and her skin pale, as if…

“Fuck. Y/N. Stay with me. I love you. Please.”

His words feel like empty promises as he mumbles them over and over again, hoping she can somehow hear him and open her eyes. Oh how he longs to see those eyes again, even if they’re still shooting daggers at him, he would trade anything for it.

He takes off his coat and wraps it around her body, her frame feeling smaller and weaker. Carefully, Ayato places the girl onto the saddle and hops on behind her, circling one arm around and creating a protective cage as he rushes the poor horse back up the mountain.

The storm shows no sign of slowing. Is this the Shogun’s wrath over a cancelled wedding that she personally endorsed?

If that’s true, then so be it,

He spits salty water out of his mouth. He can’t tell if it was rain, his tears, or a mix of both. Strange. He doesn’t remember crying.

The moment the estate doors are swung open, he is greeted by the initial shock and ensuing yelps of surprise from the staff.

“Lady Y/N!”

“Oh my god.”

He carries her limp body and shoulders his way into the estate, where Ayaka almost spits out her morning tea at the sight of her brother, completely drenched, hair disheveled and matted to his forehead, his ivory coat a shade of gory red.

“Call the doctor at once!”

Footsteps scramble away, and soon enough the doctor hurries into the room. Ayato, still panic-stricken, can only order the servants around in his moment of helplessness. She needs dry clothes, yes. I’ve applied pressure to the wound. Will she need surgery?

“My lord, please let the doctor work.” Thoma rests a tentative hand on his shoulder, and Ayato nearly collapses into him.

“It’s all my fault,” he mumbles, covering his face in an attempt to hide his fear, “it’s all my fault.”

Thoma is taken aback by his master’s sudden vulnerability. He has never seen him like this and for a moment, the normally omniscient housekeeper does not know what to do. Ayato doesn’t wait for him to extend further words of comfort, though. The sight of Y/N’s lifeless body surrounded by doctors and healers is quite literally ripping his heart into shreds, and he spins around and exits the room, heavy steps echoing in the hallway despite the commotion.

The same hallway that he and Y/N chased each other down at almost every event.

The same hallway where they fought, they yelled, they kissed.

He shudders at the thought of not ever seeing her face again, and he didn’t even get to tell her he loved her, didn’t even get to properly introduce her to the world of desire.

The memory of last night flashes before his eyes and he feels ten thousand little knives stabbing at his chest. Was it selfish, taking her all for himself like that? Was that the reason why she ran away? She deserves so much more than what he could offer, but in a moment blinded by lust, he took advantage of her innocence. And now he might not even get a chance to properly apologize and beg for her forgiveness.

When he finally makes it to his chamber, he collapses on the bed. Forget about the wet clothes and the metallic smell of blood on his hands, his mind is only preoccupied with knowing if Y/N will be okay. There is so much guilt, so much pain that his body physically aches.

The one chance he has at happiness, even just for a mere moment, is shattered like broken glass, the shards piercing through his heart and leaving a bloody trail behind.

It should have been him instead. If the Fatui were sent with a mission to kill, he would rather them take him instead.

°•. ✿ .•°

Ayato buries himself into his work, sorting through papers at an unprecedented pace that even some of the Yashiro officers begin getting a little worried. He has barely slept and almost every meal sent into his study comes back out untouched. Ayaka has learned that there is no getting through to him and gives up trying after a few attempts, but still makes sure the servants are adding extra greens and healthy ingredients into his food.

When someone is that heartbroken, there is only so much other people can do.

And when she finds out he has not been to see Y/N once, she can only let him be.

Until Ayaka finally receives word from one of the housemaids.

She barges into the study to find Ayato asleep at his desk, forehead resting against his folded arms. She hesitates but shakes him awake anyway.

“Brother. Wake up.”

He opens his eyes groggily, a silent protest dying in his throat the moment he notices his sister’s expression.

“She’s awake.” He rasps in disbelief, his voice barely above a whisper.

Ayaka nods, tears of joy already welling in her eyes. She has grown especially fond of Y/N she first mistook her for Emiko, and the two formed an unexpected bond.

He finally lets the bottled up emotions loose and they come rushing onto him like a broken dam. There is relief, worry, happiness, all at once that he feels he’s literally about to explode. Ayaka wraps her arms around her brother, and the two of them just stand there holding each other, letting the tears fall in silence.

“Are you going to see her?” She finally asks.

Ayato freezes. He doesn’t know what he’s going to say to her yet, but he knows that he should go either way. Even if it’s only to say goodbye, even if he is not ready.

An hour later he is once again at the Grand Narukami Shrine, a bouquet of freshly picked flowers in hand and too many things in his head.

“Lord Kamisato is here to see you, my lady,” the servant leads him to her chamber and leaves them with a curt nod of his head. Ayato is glad to see Y/N’s cheeks finally having some colour compared to the last time he saw her, when she laid pale as a sheet.

“My lord,” she moves to sit up straight in her bed, but visibly struggles to do so.

“Please, you still need to rest,” he sets the bouquet down on the bedside table and instinctively reaches out to help her up, but his hands freeze in midair and are slowly retreated at the realization that it might be too awkward for him to touch her, still.

“I suppose I should thank you,” she finally says after a brief silence, “my sister told me you were the one who brought me back from the forest.”

“Perhaps it was fate that brought us together in the forest that first day,” he tries to reassure her but the words come out more as a comfort to himself, “if anything…I should apologize.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The Fatui…the Shuumatsuban was able to find out that they were sent to… because they knew how important you are to me. And they wanted to get to me through, um, hurting you.”

“Oh.”

She blinks and doesn’t respond, giving Ayato the chance to add on to his monologue.

“I came to see you the morning after.”

Y/N moves her gaze from the blooming flowers to him and studies his expressions carefully.

“I wanted to apologize for…I took liberties, I took advantages of, well, you know. I never wanted it to happen like that, like some…with a stranger in the park. You deserve so much more than that and I am sorry.”

She shakes her head. If she was trying to make him feel better, it sure as hell did not work.

“I came to apologize—”

“You already said that—”

“And to ask you to marry me.”

Y/N’s mouth drops open and a surprised gasp falls off her lips. At her reaction, Ayato scrambles to find the little jewelry box he had carefully tucked inside his pocket before leaving the estate.

“You do not need to ask me of anything at all, my lord!”

Their voices overlap as Ayato fumbles to open the box and declare his intention while Y/N tries to explain her refusal with downcast eyes.

“You do not owe me anything,” she finally says after stealing a peak at the small wedding band buried inside the box and forcing herself to look away, "I am leaving Narukami Island.”

It is Ayato’s turn to gape at her this time.

She goes on, “The moment I sort things out with Emiko, I will be leaving. It has been decided. Lady Yae is kind enough to sponsor her for another season, and I’m for sure better off somewhere else—anywhere else—as it is clear I only mess things up and screw everyone over.”

Returning the box back into his coat pocket, he shakes his head at her in a silence that lasts for way longer than what is considered comfortable. Here she is again, retreating, hiding, shielding herself from whatever it is outside.

“You’re running away. Always running away, from me, from—”

“Please go.”

When Ayato doesn’t move, she repeats her request louder, as if a simple “go” would somehow burn all the passion they shared, all the memories they made, and she can start anew as a blank slate in a nation far away from here.

He watches her for several moments more, and she does not look at him. Finally he gives in and leaves the room with a nod of his head.

°•. ✿ .•°

The season does not end just because some reckless young man makes a fool of himself in front of the whole nation. With a few engagements and several more on the way, Lady Yae’s ball is as extravagant as ever. The newly betrothed can barely take their hands off of each other, and Ayato feels sick just being in the same room as them.

Y/N has recovered enough that she no longer needs to be bedridden every day, much to everyone’s relief. And surprisingly, Emiko and her have made amends, though the details of which remain private to the sisters themselves. As the orchestra prepares for their performance, Ayato waits patiently by the terrace door for the only dance partner he will ever have eyes for, and can’t help but smile softly at the first sight of her and Emiko not having a yelling match with each other.

When Y/N finally approaches him and lets him kiss the skin on her knuckles, everything in the world feels right.

But when he looks up, he sees the sorrow that she fails to hide. A lump forms in his throat. They both know that once she decides to do something, there is no turning back. Moving away from Inazuma forever included.

He hesitates, the request to a first dance dies before they can make it past his lips.

“Perhaps we should keep our distance from each other, still.” He finally says with great difficulty, each word harder than the previous one and he can no longer look at her when the last syllable comes out.

“Or perhaps we should not.”

Ayato eyes her quizzically. Her smile a faint upturn of her tinted lips.

“You see, the audience might take pity on me – seeing it’s only days after a terrible injury and all,” a mischievous spark in her eyes puts all of Ayato’s guard down, and he can only listen intently, “it wouldn’t be acceptable for me to be on the dance floor by myself with no one to steady me now. And you just happen to be the first person I found.”

This woman will be the death of him.

He can’t hide the smile as she babbles on about not wanting to be patronized or whatnot. Seeing no response from him, Y/N cocks her head to the side with a playful grin,

“Are you going to ask me to dance?”

There is no need for her to say what’s on her mind. Both of them knew this might very well be the last time they get to sway in each other’s arms.

“Are you going to say yes?”

She does not answer, but reaches out her hand instead.

The orchestra plays a slow tune for the first dance, and all around them are flurries of colour, shiny jewelry, and a mix of fragrances. Positively suffocating, but he wouldn’t trade it for anything else.

Out of the corner of his eye, he catches a glimpse of Emiko and the Shogun exchanging quiet words. Soon after, as if controlled by invisible threads, the couples on the dance floor begin retreating one by one, until him and Y/N are the only ones left dancing.

He feels her tense in his arms, and in a moment of panic almost lose her footing. He only tightens his grip on her waist and forces her to look up at him,

“Keep looking at me. No one else matters.”

And she does exactly that. The world around them fades to a blur and all he can see is the love of his life before his eyes, her body molded into his in perfect harmony. Forget the whispers, stares and pointed fingers, he would stay like this for a lifetime if he could.

When the music finally ends and the crowd erupts into a loud applause, Ayato has to fight the urge to kiss her right there. Slowly but impatiently he bows and leads her out onto the terrace, camouflaged by the swarm of guests returning to the dance floor.

The night air is crisp and does wonders at waking one up after all that time in a stuffy ballroom. Y/N studies the roses trimmed into neat bushes by the railing, the lights of Inazuma City glistening below. He does not approach her, but rather waits for her to sense his presence a few moments later.

“You are still going to leave Inazuma, then?”

The elephant in the room.

“The Shogun herself has saved our families from ruin. I cannot risk that again.” She replies quietly, fingers tracing the petals of a perfectly blooming rose, anything to avoid looking at him.

“You love your family dearly,” Ayato breathes, more of a statement than a question.

“As much as you love yours.”

He takes one step forward, then another one, until he finally catches her eyes under the moonlight.

“You know the reason why I could not go see you after your…injury?”

“Please, you don’t have to explain yourself to me.” She turns away, but her voice tells him that she is not angry at him for not visiting. That’s a relief.

“Because I was scared I’d lost you.”

In that moment, nothing else matters. Forget about the sleepless nights where he laid awake, tossing and turning over how to confess his feelings, regretting his hasty proposal, questioning if he should even confess said feelings. Seeing her look so divine under the full moon is all he needs.

“I love you.”

He has never muttered those three words to a woman in his life—no, he has never even imagined ever admitting that to someone. But when her silhouette is all he can see, the eight letters have never rolled off his tongue so easily.

Y/N’s mouth opens in a little gasp, much like her reaction to his proposal the other night. Ayato fights to repress the anxiety bubbling in his stomach and goes on, knowing that he will never forgive himself if he doesn’t let her know his true feelings the evening before she leaves.

“I’ve loved you from the moment I met you in the forest. I’ve loved you at every dance, every walk, every moment we’ve been together and more so every moment we’ve been apart. You do not have to accept it or allow it – knowing you, you probably won’t – but you must know it. You must feel it in your heart because I—”

Because I have been foolishly, completely head over heels in love with you since the moment I laid eyes on you. Coup de foudre, or whatever it is they call it.

Her eyes are welling up with what he can only hope are happy tears. Oh how he prayed they are happy tears.

The silence lasts for several more seconds until Y/N finally inhales a shaky breath, “I do not know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything, or respond, or…” He answers hastily, “I love you. And that is why I wish to marry you, not because of some—”

“I don’t know if there is anything else to say, other than that I love you, too.”

“You—”

It’s his turn to gasp in surprise now. Everything clicks into place inside him and the flowers around seem to bloom a little more brilliantly. In one swift stride he goes to hold both her hands in his.

“I want a life for us both. I know I’m imperfect…far from it, in fact, but I will humble myself before you because I cannot imagine a life without you.”

Even though there are no archons or priests or kings witnessing this moment, he knows he meant it with every fibre of his being, like a vow.

Y/N laughs through her tears then, the sound music to his ears.

“You know there will never be a day where you do not vex me.”

He pulls her a little closer to him by the waist and she gleefully nestles into his embrace, raising her hands to rest on his cheek.

“Is that a promise, Fukuchi Y/N?” He whispers, barely able to contain himself.

“Yes, it is a promise.”

Maybe a lifetime of love and happiness does not need a ring and going down on one knee, after all.

“Well then,” he grins, the first genuine smile he has allowed himself in days, and pulls her even closer to him, “I suppose we’re finally seeing eye to eye on something.”

“I suppose we are.”

She does not wait and stands on her tiptoes to kiss him, their lips sealing the oath of unconditional love. Fireworks explode in the distance, the sparkles falling down in the night sky like a waterfall of shooting stars and magic dust. His fingers weave their way into her hair and he trails his lips down to her jawline, her neck, and her shoulder, and he hears the most beautiful giggle from the woman he loves.

What else does he need, really?

He entered the season not as a bachelor, but as a mere chaperone for his sister. He never fathomed a second to do anything for himself in his life, least of which allowing himself to find true love. But she has made every minute leading up to this moment worthwhile. He would go to hell and back just to see her smile, feel her touch, and taste her lips again. She’s shown him things he never knew he was allowed to feel, and oh how magical that is.

And here he is, holding the woman that was once the bane of his existence but always the object of all his desires.

You see, they were worthy of love all along. And in this lifetime or even the next ten after this, they will never fall in love again unless they are falling into for each other.

#genshin impact #kamisato ayato #kamisato ayato x reader #bridgerton #bridgerton season 2 #genshin x reader #kate x anthony #genshin impact x reader #kamisato ayaka #moon's writings 🔖

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