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starlightxsvt · 8 months

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Sentinel's Serenade | c.sc

pairing ➳ bodyguard!Scoups x heiress!reader

genre ➳ drama, angst, romance, smut.

word count ➳ 29.5k (i'm sorry)

warnings ➳ car crash, ptsd, flashbacks of war, panic attack, murder, violence, guns, blood, death, fingering, unprotected sex, edging, female oral, arguments, coups is an a-hole but he has reasons, he was also in the military, Jun is a bad guy here(im sorry), jihoon blesses us with his special appearance.

synopsis ➳ As you start digging up an accident that has been brushed under the rug, you make an enemy who is out to get you no matter what. Amidst all the chaos you develop feelings for your bodyguard who has built walls of steel around him.

"This is your new bodyguard, Seungcheol."

Your head tilts upward, as you scan the man standing in front of you with careful eyes. He's tall and broad; exactly how you'd imagine a bodyguard to be, along with an emptiness in his eyes, so cold and robotic that would only be achievable after being through some heavy shit, you assume. Your father continues listing off his certifications and qualities but your brain doesn't capture much after hearing that he can speak sign language and is an ex navy SEAL; too busy getting distracted with his handsome features and dissecting him as much as you can just from looking.

The man isn't handsome in the typical sense, definitely not the handsome you're used to seeing in magazine covers and charity galas. No, he's ruggedly handsome, shielding himself with a tough exterior, his thick brows knotted in a frown and his full, red lips set in a grim line, blond hair brushed back neatly.

With the way he looks in that expensive suit hugging his body, he could pass as a business tycoon but his aura is completely different; alert, strict, impenetrable.

His hand reaches out for yours to meet in a handshake after your father is done introducing him. You watch his extended hand for a while, observing little scratches and cuts that seem to still be healing on his knuckles before meeting his hand. As expected, his palms are calloused but cool. His grip is firm, just like the look in his dark eyes and for some unknown reason tingles shoot down your spine.

"Choi Seungcheol, ma'am." His voice has a deep timbre to it. It'd be perfect for audiobooks, you muse idly. "He is to be with you whenever you are going outside till the foreseeable future." Your father states. There isn't much room for arguments here and you aren't too bothered having a shadow because this isn't the first time.

You had a personal bodyguard six months ago and the man sustained a serious hip injury due to...circumstances involving you. Now that you are back and ready to face the world, you know that keeping a personal bodyguard is a wise decision, even if your father may have assigned him with ulterior motives.

It's okay, the games are just beginning and you are playing for the long haul.

—

"Met your new guard on the way. Guy's a robot." Chan says as he strolls into the library with his hands in his pockets. You assume he's talking about Seungcheol, who is currently stationed outside the library room even though you told him to take a break.

A copy of Jane Eyre sits open on your lap as you look up to meet Chan's eyes. Offering him a small smile, you motion him to sit next to you. Your younger brother had been out of the country due to business for the past few weeks so it has been a while since you last saw him.

"So you are really going back to work?" He asks, a soft, concerning note to his voice as he sits down next to you on the divan. You sigh and give him an exasperated look.

"I'm more than ready. Sitting idle hasn't done me much good." You sign.

His eyes watch the movements of your hands before he murmurs, "It will be tough, you know... without your... voice. I don't want you to get into any trouble, especially after everything."

"I'll manage." You sign. You will.

It has been six long months since the accident. Six months since you lost your mother. Six months since you have last uttered a word. Six months since you have been at work.

Six months since your life has completely been turned upside down.

You have been thrown entirely off track, the reigns of your horse being snatched away by a dark force plotting far worse things. But you will uncover them. No matter how long or what it takes.

"Dad thinks you're not ready yet," Chan comments, breaking your train of thought.

You huff out an annoyed breath.

"I don't really care what he thinks you know," you sign and your brother snorts, looking at you with a fond, amused expression. "It will be hard." He says absent-mindedly. "To adjust back to everything."

You nod because you know it will be. You have already heard the board members express their dissatisfaction over you returning as the CEO. Lee publishing has been in its prime since last year and they're afraid it's gonna lose its position with a mute CEO. Funny how they forget you are the one who brought it to where it is today. Lee Publishings, your family's publishing company was handed over to you by your grandfather. He started it from scratch and it became the first successful family business before he decided to hand it over to you when you became twenty.

Your bond with your grandfather was always special, maybe because you both shared the same love for books and sense of humour. You grew up watching him read and collect books and naturally you picked up on that habit. As you grew up you watched him work closely, helping him wherever you could with the company which led him to hand it over to you.

Not your father, your brother or any of your cousins but you.

He was lucky enough to watch you take on the role and make the company flourish for all three months before he passed away peacefully one night in his sleep.

The feud began after that as your uncle, Jin Lee and your father started expressing their concerns, saying that you wouldn't be able to rule over the company well now that your grandfather wasn't here to guide you. While your uncle wanted the publishing house for himself and his useless son, Jun, your father wanted to hand the company over to Chan, believing that your brother would be a better president, and offering you the role of the vice president instead. It came to you without any surprise because your brother was always your father's favourite child.

You, however, had stood your ground and promptly refused, challenging them to try and take it from you. Thankfully, your brother was on your side, saying that it rightfully belonged to you and you were more than eligible to rule over it. Chan's disinterest may have backed off your father temporarily, you can tell, but your uncle is still desperate, now more than ever.

"You are going to move back to your place soon as well," Chan complains with a pout, breaking your train of thought. Giving him a sad smile you open your arms, inviting him for a hug which he gladly accepts. After one week of staying at the hospital and your mother's burial, you decided that you would stay at the mansion you grew up in, essentially your father's house, instead of your own apartment in the city, for the foreseeable future. This mansion held a lot of memories for you, especially with your mother. Breakfast in the garden, late night talks in the huge library and sipping on tea while watching the sunset together through the large window in the west wing.

You could never imagine a life without your mother yet here you are, living one. But it is time you slowly start going back to where you belong.

"It will be lonely here without you…and mom," Chan whispers.

You can only blink back your tears and hug him tighter.

—

Just on your fifth day back, you realise that things are not going to be anywhere near easy for you, not that you expected, but still.

The moment you get to work on Wednesday morning, there is a commotion outside the main entrance of the building which leads your driver to drop you and Seungcheol at the underground entrance. You are greeted by the bleak face of your secretary as you walk to your office, who announces that the vice president is there to see you. Once you enter your office, you indeed find vice president Jun, your dear cousin, sitting on your seat with the face of a cat who ate the canary.

Seungcheol, who is always trailing behind you like a shadow, moves— to drag him out of your seat no doubt, but you raise your hand as a gesture to tell him to stop.

"Good morning, Miss Lee. Though it doesn't look like a good morning for you," He grins, standing up and rounding the desk lazily while tilting his chin at the coffee table where the morning paper is lying. You pick it up and in bold letters on the front page, the headline greets you with: "President of Lee Publishings Accused of Employee Mistreatment."

It goes on and on about some bullshit of how you have been treating employees badly and holding their salary because you have apparently returned with a nasty temper as you can't speak anymore. You can't help but scoff, because the reality is far, far from what the paper says.

Ever since you've been back at work, all you've ever done is stay inside your office and go through all the pending documents and close deals that were hanging. Your only human contact has been your secretary Hansol and your bodyguard, both of whom have more similarities to a wall than a human. Your previously bubbly secretary has turned awkward now, probably because you have lost your voice and holding a conversation with you proves to be hard. Seungcheol, on the other hand, is like a robot who stands by your door all day and only answers your questions as briefly as possible, most of the time with a yes or no.

Your hands form fists at your sides as you glare at Jun, who stands there, pridefully evil, watching you with a satisfied grin on his face. "Things are looking rather bleak for you," He tuts in mock sympathy as he strolls towards you, hands in his pockets. As he comes to stand right next to you, his hand reaches out for your shoulder to pat you but Seungcheol grabs his wrist and twists it, making him shriek in pain.

"Fuck! Let go, you asshole!"

"You do not have permission to touch her," Seungcheol calmly states, still not letting go. You sigh and sign Seungcheol to kick him out, which he does immediately while your cousin screams in protest as you walk to your desk and sit down, rubbing your temples in frustration.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" Seungcheol asks after closing the door behind him.

You watch him for a while, your mind running a mile a minute as you think of a thousand ways of payback. But then you remind yourself that you have to approach this calmly. So you force a smile and sign.

"Send my secretary in. —

A couple of days later, you are not pleasantly surprised to see your father waiting to greet you at the front of the house when you return from work.

Just as Seungcheol opens the car door for you to get out, your father marches towards you.

"What did you do, girl? I told you to stay put! Your uncle Jin is here to see you!" His tone is not friendly. In fact, you pick up heavy disappointment, which you expected. This was bound to happen after you fired your cousin Jun from his position today.

You smile calmly at him before turning to Seungcheol and signalling to him that he is relieved of his duties. He looks at you warily and you have a feeling he wants to say no but he ultimately just nods and takes his leave, driving away the car to park.

"He's waiting for you in the backyard." Your father announces. As you start walking away he yells, "You better fix what you have done today! The company won't last if you keep on making hasty decisions like these!"

Deciding to ignore him you walk to the backyard with unfaltering steps and find your uncle standing there with arms crossed, feet tapping furiously. You approach him with a smile, not a friendly one but the subtle smile of challenge as he takes furious steps towards you when he sees you coming.

"You! What have you done, _____? You fired my son from his position!" He hollers, marching to stand in front of you, fury blazing vividly in his eyes.

Silently, you hold eye contact with him.

"You think you can do as you please after you get into an accident and we'll just let you? Who do you think you are to fire my son?"

You smirk before producing your notepad from your bag and start scribbling.

"I'm the president of the company and based on our investigation your son was found guilty of spreading fake news about me mistreating my employees. The reporter who got paid to write it confessed himself."

You hold out the notepad for him to read.

"How dare you believe a lowly reporter over my son? Over your own cousin?" Your uncle is livid. "If you keep behaving like this then I'll retract all my assets shared with your father. You know I can take over the Lee Enterprises anytime if I want."

You roll your eyes. Yeah, do whatever you want.

You start writing down. "If you have nothing productive to say I suggest you leave now and have a chat with your precious son. I have had a long day."

As soon as he reads the words written on the paper he bats the notebook away from your hand, making you gasp. The look in his eyes is akin to a madman's as he takes a threatening step towards you and leans in to whisper in your ear.

"If you don't want to end up like your mother I suggest you start behaving, ______." He sneers.

Your whole body freezes up like a block of ice as your breath catches in your lungs. Your uncle's eyes are cruel, threating, filled with a layer of secrets that you're desperate to uncover as he takes a step back. The look of panic on your face brings satisfaction to him as watches you for a few moments, letting his words sink in and challenging you to do something about it before he smirks and walks out of the backyard.

Your legs, which have been shaky until now finally give up and you fall on the perfectly trimmed grass, your breaths coming out in the form of pants.

The horrible realisation sinks into you.

Your suspicions were true.

His words just confirmed that which means you need to up your game. Immediately.

You're surprised at how quickly, how easily you think of one person when you need someone to help you.

Hands shaky, you type a message to Seungcheol.

— There's something different about Seungcheol the moment he arrives at your front gate in his BMW. As you watch him get out of the car and jog towards you, you realise it's his fit; he's not wearing his typical two piece suit.

No, he's dressed in a fitted white polo and black slacks, the polo so tight that you can see the bulging outline of his chest and arms. Despite the negative thoughts brewing in your head you get distracted for a second as you ogle him unashamedly and take longer than you should to respond to his question. "Are you alright, ma'am? I wasn't expecting you to call so late."

You roll your eyes. It's only like eight in the evening. Though you can see why it was unexpected for him because he is relieved from duty as you get off work in the evening. Not replying to him, you tilt your head towards his car, indicating to him to open the passenger side door. He looks doubtful for a second before following your instructions.

"Where would you like me to take you?" Seungcheol asks once you're both inside the car and he has started the engine. You sigh and sign, "Somewhere far and quiet."

His thick brows knot into a frown as he thinks for a few seconds before simply nodding. Then, surprising you, he reaches over and pulls your seatbelt across your chest, which you just realised you forgot to put on. His being so close lets you get a really good sniff of his cologne and once again you get heavily distracted as you start wondering what he'd do if you leaned into his neck and wrapped your arms around him.

Where are these thoughts coming from?

You have no idea. This is not the first time you've had them, though.

It is like this new disease you have caught. Your mind goes haywire whenever you look at Seungcheol for a second too long. The first time it happened was right after the rumour of employee mistreatment broke out and you were leaving from work. Even though you took the back exit through the underground parking, the press mobbed you, throwing a string of questions at you while their cameras kept flashing repeatedly.

Seungcheol, of course, managed everything very efficiently and got you away safely. The way his hand squeezed your shoulder, his face hovering near yours while he asked if you were okay was a feeling that has managed to stay with you very vividly even now. You were a bit spaced out but not for the reasons he was thinking; it was just that he looked too attractive and his touch felt too comforting, even though he was merely doing his job.

You are a tiny bit ashamed to admit that he has made your heart flutter since then, with every little thing he did.

You don't get to dwell on your day dreams for too long because he's leaning back in his seat and pressing the accelerator, making you jerk softly.

A quiet thirty minutes of drive later you discover that Seungcheol has taken you to the beach right on the outskirts of the city. It isn't something you were expecting but you realise it is something you definitely need.

As he parks the car on a small cliff overlooking the entire beach, you hear the soothing sounds of the wave crashing into the shore clearly.

And it brings back vague memories of your childhood, when your mother took you to this beach because she loved the air here so much. As if in a trance, you get out of the car and stand by the cliff, letting the cool sea breeze wash over you as the salty smell in the air invades your nose. Your bodyguard stands by you silently for a while and without looking, you can tell that his eyes are on you, watching you carefully.

Sometime later, he breaks the peaceful silence, "Would like to eat something? There are a few food trucks nearby." He moves his head to motion at the food trucks parked far away, their lights blinking. Shaking your head no, you fill your lungs with the cool night air by taking one more deep breath before moving to the back of the car and leaning against the trunk. Seungcheol follows you as you pat the space next to you for him to come and stand.

He does so and you let out a heavy breath before signing. "I need you to do something for me. Something that has to remain a secret."

Seungcheol raises his brows slightly before frowning. He doesn't reply immediately and you stand upright, holding eye contact with him. "It is very important to me, Seungcheol. I need to know if I can trust you to keep it a secret from everyone," you sign.

"Okay, ma'am." He finally responds.

"Even from my father," you sign. "I know you're working for him but for this task, I will pay you separately so you will only answer to me about this, okay?"

"Okay ma'am."

"Good." You huff out a breath. "You are from a prominent security company, right? I need you to look into a man for me. Jin Lee."

"Your uncle?" He looks bewildered. "Yes. I need his whereabouts on 23rd March of this year. And I need to know who he contacted before this accident. Any call or bank transfer that seems remotely out of place, you look into it for me, okay?" He pauses for a breath before replying. "Okay, ma'am."

"Just call me ____, Seungcheol."

— On the weekend, you have lunch with Chan in the garden of the mansion, the place where you two had lunch with your mother, as he eagerly asks you about how you have been doing and assures you that he is here if you need anything. After lunch, you see him off for a meeting before aimlessly strolling through the hallways of your house by yourself.

The cleanup at your place has been completed so you are planning on moving back tomorrow and you realise it will be a while before you come back here. Through your walk, you come across a painting hanging on the large hallway towards your father's office that makes you stop to stare.

It is a picture of your mother with you and Chan, taken when you were about twelve years old. It is your favourite picture in the entire house, maybe because you have a memory attached to it or maybe because it's simply magnificent, the three of your smiles shining so brightly.

It was a gift from your grandfather to your mother on her thirty seventh birthday and she had it hung here, right in front of a large set of windows that overlooks the garden. The afternoon sun falls right on the picture, casting it in an ethereal glow and it is almost like your mom is here, cheering you on with her beautiful smile.

With a soft sigh and tears withheld, you say goodbye to the picture and walk away. You are aiming to go straight to your room but the loud voices coming from your father's office makes you stop.

You realise the door is just slightly opened and you walk over to shut it but stop in your tracks when you hear your uncle's voice.

"You better get your daughter under control or it will not be good for you!" He is shouting.

"Are you threatening me?"

"I am warning you, brother."

"Jin, please, just let her be for a while. She has lost her voice. I am sure she will not be able to perform like before. Then you and the board can fire her."

You are somewhat hurt by your father's words but once again, they do not come to you as a surprise. "Exactly! Why should I let the company go to waste because of her poor performance? You tell her to fuck off or I will remove her myself!"

"Jin, please. You already got rid of Aileen. You do not have to go any further.

Your world has come to a stop.

You forget to breath, as you simply stand there, stunned, convinced that you heard wrong.

You had to have heard wrong.

"I got rid of her and I'll get rid of you too, if you don't listen to me! Don't forget I own the shares of the family hotel just as much as you do. It will not be a challenge to turn the board of directors against you. Imagine what will happen after that? Your most lucrative business will be completely mine and your dear son will become penniless."

There is no reply from your father. Or maybe there is but you do not hear it.

There is a deafening ring in yours ears as you muffle your sobs by clutching your mouth tightly and making a beeline for your room.

You cannot believe this. You absolutely can not. It is something you could not have imagined even in your wildest nightmare. Your father knows your uncle killed your mom, yet he is staying silent. Why? Why!

Granted, your parents were never happily married and growing up you have heard that your father has mistresses. It never bothered your mother because their marriage was only a business agreement in the very first place and she had all her attention focused on you and Chan. But to think that he is letting her killer walk free is unbelievable.

After all he lived with her, his wife, the mother of his children for so many goddamn years!

By the time you have entered your room, you are full on crying, ugly and loud. Tears are blurring your vision as you flail around the room, helplessly, aimlessly, devastatedly.

And before you know it, you are throwing the thousand dollar porcelain vase by your bedside to the ground.

The piece shatters into bits and the sound oddly satisfies you, prompting you to throw another one. And for the next few minutes you throw anything you can find in your room, not caring how valuable they are, not caring that a shard of glass has ripped the skin below your left thumb, making you bleed.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck you! Fuck all of you!" You yell at the top of your lungs, not caring to keep up the facade anymore.

Once you have run out of energy, you stop to look at the mess you made, glad that the messy room and the pain from the cut on your hand makes your mind go blank for a while.

But you do not miss the small, almost inaudible creak of the door to your room. Your head whips into the direction to see none other than Seungcheol, standing right out front, his eyes wide and his lips parted in a small gasp of surprise.

You forget to breathe as you realise he might have been standing there for a while and he witnessed everything.

Everything.

He knows your secret. He knows that you are not mute. Before you know it, your feet are moving as you push open the door and yank your bodyguard into your room, not before glancing left and right down the hallway to check anyone's presence.

As soon as you lock the door, you press him against it and lean on your tiptoes, inching your face closer to him as you whisper, "Keep. This. A. Secret."

You had meant for the words to come out threatening but your tear stained eyes and cracking voice doesn't help establish that image.

Seungcheol stares at you with a gaze you are quite unable to decipher. His eyes are soft, full of wonder and you think you can almost spot admiration and something more in them and for a moment, you find yourself lost in the sea of his gaze.

"______". He calls your name softly. His hands come to your upper arms to hold you gently as he puts some distance between the two of you before ushering you towards your bed and making you sit down. "Your secret is safe with me," he confirms as he sits next to you. "But I am glad you can speak again." He murmurs, giving your shoulder a soft squeeze as he looks around the room you just trashed.

You let out half a sigh of relief, knowing that your secret is safe and you find yourself speaking before you can even think. "I got my voice back quite a while ago. Two months after the accident, actually." Seungcheol's head whips towards you, his eyes widening in surprise.

"My uncle seemed very happy when I lost my voice and he was being weirdly nice to me. I already had my suspicions that the accident was an inside job so I pretended to act mute." You whisper, eyes trained on the floor.

How right you were!

It was an inside job but it had its roots spread out much farther than you thought. Your uncle killed your mother while your father sits there in silence despite knowing that!

The thought makes you shake your head as a dry, mirthless laughter wrings out of your throat. Your head falls back as you laugh like a mad woman as Seungcheol watches you, absolutely perplexed.

He gently tries calling your name. "______—"

"My father knew!" You are yelling between laughter. "He fucking knew!"

The poor man only looks more confused.

"He knew— he… he knows my uncle killed my mom but he is staying silent! He said it himself! I heard him! Do you understand, Seungcheol, my father is turning a blind eye! He is choosing to save his fucking business over me, over his children!"

Seungcheol looks absolutely baffled upon hearing your words as he falls silent with a bleak expression. He does not have the adequate words to respond to that and he simply does not know what he can do at this point to make you feel better. However, he takes notice of the cut below your thumb and reaches for your hand, setting it down on his thigh while he takes out a handkerchief and gently ties it around the injury. "You hurt yourself," he states quietly, almost to himself before meeting your eyes. "I know what you heard was painful but you need to take care of yourself. For your mother, at least."

And the damn breaks.

You break into a full on sob as you wrap your hands around his large shoulders, molding yourself against him as you cry unceremoniously in his chest. Seungcheol's arms wrap around your body in an effortless blanket of security as he rests his chin on top of your head and strokes your head while you try to burrow yourself deeper into his chest.

It takes a while for the messy array of tears to subside and once you have calmed down a little, you take notice of his white shirt which is now completely wet where you rested your face. "I'm sorry," you croak weakly, trying to pull away but he holds you by the arms and makes you face him by tilting your chin with his finger.

"There is nothing to be sorry for, okay? Now tell me what I can do to make this a little better. Just so you know, my team is almost done digging up about your uncle. We should have a solid update tomorrow."

A small sob of gratitude and relief escapes your throat and Seungcheol immediately shushes you, his eyes helplessly searching for yours. "C-can you please ask them to look into my dad as well," you hiccup, saying the words you never imagined would come out of your mouth. "I need to know his whereabouts before the accident."

Seungcheol assures you with a nod while his hand strokes your back soothingly. Exhaling a loud, defeated sigh, you wipe your tears and mutter. "Please help me pack my bags, Seungcheol. I am moving back to my place. Tonight. I cannot stay here a second longer."

The man looks like he wants to protest but goes against it and simply nods, getting up to retrieve your bags from your closet.

After hastily packing your belongings you waste no time to march out of the house with Seungcheol trailing behind you. You leave a note on the kitchen, simply saying something came up and you had to leave early.

You are extremely grateful that you do not come across your father because one look at him and the ticking time bomb inside you would explode and you definitely cause a scene.

As the night grows deeper slowly, you isolate yourself in your room once you come back to your apartment. Despite Seungcheol's insistence, you tell him to call it a day and lock yourself up in your room, throwing yourself a pity party. It has been a while since you had such a restless night— the last one being after the accident, and it takes a long long time for sleep to come.

When your eyes finally fall shut, hues of orange and blue have already grazed the sky.

—

You do not feel like your best self in the morning but the news Seungcheol brings is enough to get you back on track.

The manila file sitting on your desk is a gold mine, it's contents spread throughout the surface as you sit in silence, hands linked together under your chin, your brain finally connecting the pieces together.

Seungcheol's friends found a shady bank transfer made by your uncle, two weeks before the accident. The tip led them to an old gang who, after applying some tactics, admitted to taking money from Jin Lee in order to commit a hit and run. After digging around some more they found papers that now lie on your table, a clear proof of your uncle's deal with the gang, which they kept as insurance. Among the documents, one particularly catches your eye.

It is the information of the driver of the truck that hit your car.

The picture is like a jolt of electricity through your system as you are immediately taken back to the scene of the crash, the moments after where you were hovering over the brink of consciousness. You remember seeing a man peeking into your wrecked car, a man with a scar on his left cheek and all this time you could not fully believe that to be real.

But it was. You did not imagine it. The picture on the document is that of the driver you saw that morning, the man with a scar on his left cheek, his eyes dark and blank, his lips twisted in a line of malice.

"_____?" Seungcheol's gentle voice guides you out of your head. "My friend had his confession recorded. Would you like to hear it?"

"Of course."

"I need to warn you…it is pretty detailed. About the accident, you know." He looks guilty, even though he has no reason to be.

You swallow a lump in your throat as your heart beat picks up. Are you really ready to revisit that morning? Relive all those feelings?

You have to.

Seungcheol pushes a voice recorder towards you on the table, pressing a button to turn it on.

"I was told that there would be only a girl and her bodyguard in the car! I swear I didn't know her mother would be there as well! I did not mean to kill the woman! After I hit the car, I went to check and…and the older woman was dead! The girl looked barely alive and I didn't think she would survive…."

There is a buzzing sound in your ears. It is deafening.

You are transported to a void where these words keep repeating and repeating, pulling you down, sucking you deeper into a pit of despair. It hurts so much you are sure death would be easier.

Your head hangs low, silent tears trailing down your cheek as you stare at your lap. Seungcheol calls your name multiple times, asking if you are okay but you cannot bring yourself to form a reply.

The pain, the guilt, the shame, the anger— everything is overwhelming. These feelings consume you whole and dry you out until you are left with an unbelievable urge to scream and holler and cry.

"______, please, can you hear me?" Seungcheol's touch on your shoulder makes you jolt. You look up to find him standing next to you, eyes glazed with concern as he peers down at you.

"I am fine," you reply after taking a shaky breath.

"Are you sure? Maybe you should call it day—"

"Seungcheol?" You interrupt him. You wipe the tears clean and sit up straight. "Can you call my lawyer? I need him here as soon as possible."

—

Bad news awaits you the next day when you return home from work.

As usual Seungcheol walks you to the door of your apartment but you realise something is up when he abruptly stops after stepping out of the elevator and turning towards the door to your place. Following his line of sight you realise he has taken notice of the slightly open front door to your house.

Your heart drops as a small gasp leaves your lips.

Someone broke into your place. And it does not take a genius to guess who Plus it also confirms that your uncle has found out you have been snooping around. A calm man like him does not make a move unless things are really dire and this proves that he is desperate to get that evidence out of your hands.

Seungcheol tenses up beside you and uses a hand to push you behind his body in a protective manner as he steps closer to the door. With the other hand he pulls out his revolver, holding it out and pointing it straight.

"S-Seungcheol—" You start panicking.

He shushes you before you can say much, eyes trained forward as he takes measured steps. Swallowing the bubble of fear, you hold his back as you follow him into your apartment.

The storeroom which is right on the left after entering is the first place Seungcheol checks, and when he finds it clear he pushes you inside haphazardly.

"Don't come out until I get you." He commands, shutting the door on your face and clicking the lock before you can even process anything. Baffled, you stand still inside the dimly lit room, carefully listening for any sounds, while a thousand different thoughts run through your head. This building is one of the most secure residential buildings in the city and breaking in here is quite literally impossible. Which means it is clear your uncle bribed someone on the inside and the realisation of how scary things are getting dawns on you, making you chew nervously on your lower lip as you start to grow restless.

Thankfully, a quick while later Seungcheol opens the door, a wary look on his face and you can immediately tell something is wrong. As soon as the door opens, you push past him and head for your bedroom, only to find the place absolutely trashed. Everything is a mess; from your bed to your closet to your dresser and it is evident that someone took their sweet time to comb through every one of your possessions and as you take in the havoc, the last of your doubts go away.

They were undoubtedly looking for the documents and the recorder.

Your hands fist at your sides as tears of anger and frustration gather at the corners of your eyes. It only amplifies when you see one of your most precious belongings lying face down on the floor— a picture of you and your mother taken on your eighteenth birthday.

Immediately you kneel and pick the frame up only to find it broken, making you heave out a helpless cry of anger. As you clutch it to your chest, your eyes scan the mess around you and a sense of doom settles in your gut. So this is what your life has come to now.

"Come. You're not staying here." Seungcheol's quiet command disrupts your thoughts.

"W-what? What do you mean? Where am I gonna go?" You scramble to stand up.

"At my place. This place isn't safe, _____." He pins you down with a serious look. "Pack your essentials and I mean absolute essentials. Your passport and any important papers."

"Wait, I—"

"Now." He commands. "I am gonna make some calls to find out who did this. Be ready in ten." He is walking out of the room while dialling a number, leaving you flabbergasted.

A while later you sit on the passenger's seat next to Seungcheol as he pulls the car out of your underground parking and onto the busy street, eyes focused on the road in silence. The only sound surrounding you is the sound of the bustling city and it isn't enough to ease the thick tension in the car. Seungcheol's jaw is clenched and his lips are pressed into a thin line as you observe him while he stares straight ahead. "What do we do after going to your place? I can't just hide forever." You break the silence with your words, your eyes trained out the window. It looks like it's going to rain.

"You'll stay in my place until the threat is removed. I'll soon receive the CCTV footage and from there on we can track down who ordered to invade your home." He declares.

"It was my uncle." You say without much thought.

Seungcheol turns to look at you for a beat before focusing on the road again. "You sound sure." He murmurs.

"Who else would it be then? He is after the evidence." You reply. Seungcheol remains silent for a beat before agreeing with a hum. Another silence follows after that. You take occasional, shy glances at him while he drives and when the car stops at a red light in an intersection, you call for him, making him turn his head to look at you. "Seungcheol?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you. For today."

He stares at you quietly, not blinking. "I just did my job."

"No, you are doing a lot more. You are helping me out in so many ways and I can only keep myself together thanks to you."

He only stares more at you. His gaze is intense and his eyes are hypnotic; if you stare too long it unnerves you, dissects you open. "You will be fine, _____." He replies after a long pause. "With or without me."

His words trigger you.

With or without me?

You want to yell that he has to stick around however long you want him to but his cold demeanour makes your thoughts appear silly, even to yourself. You are clearly looking for something more, much more than he wants to give you. You know he would probably burn the world for you, not because he loves you but because he is a loyal person and probably because he pities you.

Just a little bit. And you accept that. — Seungcheol's place is a canvas of grey and black and white. It is minimalistic and clean, a one bedroom apartment on the tenth floor in a quieter part of the city. As he walks you through his humble abode, he gives directions on where everything is and finally opens the door to his bedroom, leading you in before announcing. "You take the bed. I'll sleep on the sofa."

You do not protest because you know he would never listen. Instead, you almost ask him to share the bed with you but prevent going with it because you cannot trust yourself to remain professional while he sleeps so close to you with that tempting body of his.

"I'll leave you to rest. I'm going for a grocery run. Do not open the door for anyone but me. If there is any problem, call me." He uses his no nonsense tone and you fight the urge to roll your eyes.

"Okay, okay." You watch him leave before shutting the bedroom door and sitting down on the floor, letting out a deep breath, one you've been unconsciously holding for a while.

As you watch the orange sky from the large window of Seungcheol's bedroom, the events of the last forty eight hours wash over you. You can't help but admire yourself at how calm you are. You woke up feeling numb today and you've been functioning on autopilot the whole day. Seeing your place ransacked did evoke some emotion within you but then again, deep down you were expecting something like this to happen once you had the evidence.

You're running on pure adrenaline and you know you cannot stop until you have put your dear uncle behind bars.

And maybe, even your father.

He's an accomplice, no? He knows very well who killed his wife yet he decides to keep quiet, which makes him more vile to you. You find more hatred towards your father brimming within you, than towards your uncle. Yes, you expected him to play unfair but your own father knowing the culprit of your mother's death and simply burying it under the rug? That, you absolutely cannot tolerate.

A number of different scenarios run through your head on how you can bring them down. Despite having this irresistible urge to just run to the police with the recorder, you remember your lawyer's words.

It won't be enough.

A few documents and a tape of confession are not enough to bring a man like Jin down. He has very strong connections with law enforcement and an even stronger set of lawyers. You need a solid witness. You need to catch him red handed. You need to create a scandal he can't recover from. You need to gather more proof. Proof so irrefutable, that his entire empire comes crashing down.

And good for you, your uncle has already started setting up his doom. Trashing your place was his first mistake, the first piece of the domino. Now, it is a matter of time until everything collapses. You pray he will keep on making more mistakes.

In fact, you know he will. He will do anything to get his hands on the evidence and you will stack all his actions against him at court. And when the time comes for the nail to hit the head…

You're going to be the bait. —

Somewhere in the middle of the night, you wake up from your sleep. Falling asleep came to you easily after eating the dinner Seungcheol cooked and then curling up in his bed where the sheets smelled subtly like him. It led you to have the best sleep you had in a while but now that you are awake, there is an itch in your throat, making it dry.

So, quietly, you get up from bed and walk to the kitchen, a small light in the hallway guiding you to find a glass and pour yourself some water.

As you sit on one of the breakfast stools and gulp it down, you watch Seungcheol sleeping on the sofa. The blanket that was probably on top of him once has fallen on the floor, the small space clearly not sufficient for his large frame as almost half of his body hangs out of the sofa. You almost feel bad for him and wonder how he can sleep in such a tiny space but it is pointless to feel guilty. He would never take the bed, no matter how much you offered.

As you take the last few sips of your water, you catch the moonlight draping over half of his face, casting it in an ethereal glow. It's stunning how beautiful he is. His usual stoic face is now relaxed, his full brows not knotted in a frown, his long eyelashes resting against his cheek, his plump full lips parted just a tiny bit.

Unashamedly, for the nth time, you find yourself wondering how it'd be like to kiss him. You can't remember the last time a man made you feel like this, if ever. Your relationship with him should be strictly professional yet as you spend more time with him your mind keeps on entering forbidden territories. Which is sad because you know he feels nowhere near that for you. Maybe he even has a girlfriend, or a wife— though you see no ring in his finger. Maybe a divorced wife with whom he parted ways begrudgingly, someone who still haunts his dreams.

As you conjure up various scenarios of his relationship status, Seungcheol stirs in his sleep before a quiet groan escapes his lips.

You crane your head to take a better look at him, to see if he's awake but you soon realise he isn't as another pained groan leaves his lips, his large body shuffling in the congested space.

Is he having a nightmare?

You immediately get up and dash towards him, turning a light on the way and kneeling right beside the sofa. There's a light sheen of sweat coating his face and his eyebrows are marred in a frown as his eyes remain squeezed shut, his body writhing desperately "Seungcheol? Seungcheol!" You yell, grabbing his shoulders and trying your best to shake him out of whatever that's haunting him.

"No! No! Please, no!" The pain and helplessness in his voice halts your breath as you continue to shake him awake while his hands come to grab your arms in a tight hold, almost like an anchor. His grip only grows stronger as he yells in protest and you try your very best to wake him up once more. "Seungcheol! Please! Wake up! It's a nightmare!"

A set of blown out pupils look at you the next moment, and in a moment of silence a small shaky breath leaving his lips before they part slightly in shock. Then, before you know it, you are falling on your ass as Seungcheol shoves you away and scrambles to the farthest corner of the sofa.

Even though your ass hurts, you know it was an unintended reaction. You whisper in a voice so soft as if you're talking to a wounded animal, "Seungcheol, it's okay. You're safe. You were having a nightmare."

The man sits still, hugging his knees as he still tries to catch his breath, a horrified look on his face. Not being able to bear it anymore, you immediately move to him and even though he flinches and tries to move away at first, he gives in when you wrap your arms around his shoulders.

Soon he's burying his face on your neck as his large body curls around you, his hands gripping your night shirt tightly as if he's trying to mould himself into you. You feel his harsh pants on your shoulder so you try your best to soothe him, rubbing his back in repeated motions while whispering words of solace.

"It's alright, Seungcheol. I'm here. I have got you. It was just a bad dream."

You don't know how long you hold him like that but it seems to be a while, which feels too soon to you because Seungcheol pulls away from your arms before scooting away, putting a little distance between the two of you. He doesn't meet your eyes as he sighs, annoyed and dejected, while rubbing his temples. "Are you okay? Would you like some water?" You offer. He shakes his head, looking down, his usual stoic mask settling back onto his face.

"Why are you up?" He asks, his tone somewhat snappy. You frown. "I got out of bed to get a glass of water. You were having a nightmare, Seungcheol. Are you sure—"

"It's fine. It happens."

You are stunned at his lack of care. Is this a daily occurrence? Does he wake up every night, alone and screaming from his nightmares? Why is he allowing this to happen? Does he have someone to talk to? You want to ask all these questions but then decide against it due to the situation. Instead, you shuffle a little closer to him and start fixing his messy hair with a soft touch.

Seungcheol completely freezes at first and you expect him to bat your hand away but he doesn't. So you bite your lip to hide your smile as you finish fixing his hair before wiping the sweat off his brow.

But you don't get to go far with that because Seungcheol grabs your wrist in a gentle hold, stopping you. His eyes scan over the length of your arms before he meets your eye. "Are you okay? I hurt you, didn't I?"

You simply shake your head and offer him a small smile which doesn't seem to convince him. His brows frown once again as you see him start overthinking so you put a stop to them. "I'm fine, Seungcheol, really. If you should be worried about anything, it is yourself. You're not on duty right now, you know. You can relax. I'm not a priority now." His eyes bore into yours and for a moment you see something foreign in his eyes. Something akin to vulnerability, longing, maybe even desperation.

"Go back to sleep, ____." His voice is gruff. "You've had a long day."

You want to protest but decided not to as huff out a breath and cast one more longing glance at him, hoping that maybe he would change his mind, before retreating to your room.

— It's ten o'clock when you wake up.

Your first thought is that you are late for work, which makes you sit right up, ready to bolt out of bed but the next moment you realise it's a Saturday. And you are not at home. You are at Seungcheol's place.

So you take your sweet time leaving the bed and freshening up, shuffling through Seungcheol's products in the bathroom. You also sneak in a sniff of his aftershave and cologne, smiling at yourself at your perverseness.

When you step out of your room, you find Seungcheol sitting on one of the breakfast stools, going through some documents with rapt attention. You stand by your door frame for a while, admiring his built frame from behind, his large back muscles and shoulders stretched beneath a white tee but you don't get to stare at him too long because his head turns around and catches you in the act.

"Good morning, _____." He greets.

You clear your throat, shuffling to the kitchen counter and pour yourself a glass of water, pretending as if he didn't just catch you eye fucking him. "Good morning, Seungcheol." Your voice is soft.

"Would you like to have breakfast now? I can make you some toast and omelette." He kindly offers. "There's also cereal if you want."

"I think I'll go with the cereal," You murmur, taking a seat opposite to him. You haven't had much of an appetite for the past few days which isn't really a surprise considering the situation. Seungcheol goes back to scanning the documents in front of him while you sit in silence, sipping your water. You wonder wether you should bring up last night, maybe ask him if he's okay now but you have a suspicion it won't be received well by him. As you chew on your lip and debate the idea, Seungcheol looks up to meet your eyes, his face ever so serious.

"You have to take a break from work for a few days." He announces.

"What? Why?"

Probably for the first time, you see him hesitate which stresses you out. "What's wrong, Seungcheol? Tell me."

"You have received a few death threats, _____. I found them in your mail. For the time being, you need to lay low, appearing in public puts you at risk. In fact, we're leaving for a safe house today."

"Wait- what?" Your brain is trying hard to catch up. "Safe house? What are you talking about? I'm not safe here?"

"They know your address, _____. It won't take them long to get mine. I need to get you to an untraceable place."

You don't know what to feel or even how to react. You're at a loss as you try to figure out your next move. "What do those threats say exactly? Can I see them?"

Seungcheol's face hardens. "No. They're not pretty to look at." His voice brings shivers down your spine as a wave of nausea hits you. You had no idea your uncle could stoop so low. But then again, he's a murderer so you shouldn't have underestimated him.

Seungcheol must have seen your face pale because he calls your name firmly, grounding your attention to him. "You are safe with me, _____. You just have to trust me, okay?" You find comfort in his eyes so you find yourself nodding immediately which satisfies him. "Get ready. We'll leave in two hours."

"Where are we going?"

"Don't worry about that."

"Does my father know?"

"About the death threats? Yes. He didn't seem too concerned about it though. Said it might be a prank."

Somehow, you're not surprised.

"But not about moving you to a safe location," Seungcheol adds. "No one needs to know about that. It's safer that way."

"Even my brother?"

"Yes. I suggest you call him and tell him you'll be out of reach for a while."

You deflate at that. Chan is going to be worried. And how on earth are you going to explain everything to him when all of this eventually unveils?

Seungcheol gets up, gathering all the papers and just as he turns to leave, he stops. "Oh, and ____? Don't come near me when I'm having a nightmare next time."

What?

"But Seungcheol—"

"For your own safety, _____. Don't. This is not a request." He doesn't wait for your reply but marches away as you silently watch his retreating form, lips pursed in annoyance.

The little appetite you had for breakfast is ruined as you go back to your room, cursing his stubbornness. As you pick up your phone to check for any important messages, a text from your dear father greets you. Your bodyguard told me you received death threats. Maybe it is better for you to stay at home and not work. For your own good, you should seriously consider giving your position to someone else. His flagrant attitude makes your blood boil as you fist your hands around your phone in a death grip before tossing it onto the bed in a fit of rage.

This day has not started off well.

— Two hours later you are well on your way to the safe house with a bag packed containing your absolute necessities. Your bodyguard has confiscated your real phone and gave you a burner instead just to be cautious.

Seungcheol, as always, drives the car in silence, the features of his face set to a grim expression. The air is thick with tension and you debate putting the radio on but even doing that feels too awkward.

"How long is the drive?" You finally ask, desperate to lessen this weird tension.

"We're taking a train from the station."

"Wait, what?"

"It is quite far. Driving there is going to take way too long." He calmly replies, eyes focused on the road. Sighing, you lean back and rest your head against the headrest. You let your eyes wander outside the window, watching the people, the view passing by while your mind runs rampant with all kinds of thoughts; anxious, restless.

A while later, you take notice of something in the rearview mirror and finally voice out the concern that has been bugging you for a while. "Seungcheol?" There's a touch of panic in your voice.

"Yes?"

"See that black Mercedes? It has been following us for a while…I think." You stare eagerly at Seungcheol waiting for his reply, waiting to be told that you are wrong but instead, a small, amused smile graces his lips.

"So you noticed, huh?"

It feels like your heart is going to drop out of your ass.

"What do we do?" You whisper, sitting up straight and craning your head back to take a proper look at the car. Sure enough, the SUV is right behind you, not even trying to be discreet anymore.

Fuck this crap, seriously.

"Trust me, I have got a plan. You just need to do as I tell you, okay?" He assures, his voice composed unlike yours.

"O-okay."

He turns to face you for a beat, giving you a reassuring look before continuing to drive in silence for a couple more minutes while the Mercedes stays on your tail. "Hold tight. I'm going to speed up. There's a parking lot about a mile from here. We're going to stop there."

"WHAT!"

You don't get your reply because the next second, the car is zooming forward as Seungcheol steps on the accelerator. You are gripping the dashboard and your seatbelt with your dear life as Seungcheol speeds through the lane like a madman, swerving every now and then. The Mercedes chasing you has a hard time keeping up with Seungcheol's viciously smooth driving because in a moment's time you are in the parking lot where Seungcheol parks the car in the corner farthest from the entry.

"Listen to me very carefully, ____." Seungcheol says as he turns the engine off and removes his seatbelt. "Crawl to the back and lay low, okay? No matter what happens, what you see, you do not make a move until I come get you, do you hear me?"

Your throat feels like sandpaper as you whisper. "Y-yes. Yes I do."

"Good." He squeezes your hand. "Now crawl into the back."

You do as you are told, moving into the backseat and crouching down as Seungcheol exits the car before locking it. You peek through the tinted window, watching with bated breath as the black SUV pulls up and two bald headed men exit the vehicle which parks right by the entry. They walk to Seungcheol, their stances predatory as they talk about something you cannot hear.

Next thing you know, one of the men is throwing an uppercut towards Seungcheol which fails to land because your bodyguard steps back, avoiding it easily.

Then, a full on fight ensues as the two men attack Seungcheol unsparingly. Seungcheol does not fail to keep up as he easily avoids them and counterattacks. Very soon, he is landing a kick on one of the men that throws him down to the ground with a harsh blow before grabbing the other guy and holding him in a chokehold. Soon, his body slumps to the ground.

Is he dead?

The other guy, meanwhile, recovers and charges for Seungcheol and you notice a bit too late that he has a knife because he manages to land a slash on Seungcheol's chest, making him stumble back. "Seungcheol!" Your hand unconsciously reaches for the door handle, tugging it to get out and help him. Alas, you can't do that. Fortunately, though, Seungcheol seems to not require any help as in the very next moment Seungcheol attacks the man, snatches the knife from him and bashes his head against the trunk of a car once, twice, thrice, making him fall into the ground, unconscious.

The breath you were holding finally escapes your lungs. Seungcheol dashes to the car the next moment, opening the back door and dragging you out by the arm before you can even say something.

"Come on. We don't have time."

"Wait, where are we going?"

"There's a five minute shortcut to the station from here," he says, leading you by holding your hand as his legs pick up speed. "We have to run because they are expecting us to move by car. Come on!"

And so, you let him guide the way, his hand holding yours tightly, as you take the underground exit of the lot. You run for your life, your legs going sore but you manage to keep going just because of the adrenaline. Soon enough, the station comes into view and Seungcheol picks up speed as the whistle of the train echoes through the air, informing its departure.

"Oh crap, we're not gonna make it!" You yell. "We will. Just keep running," Seungcheol hollers back as you both run parallel to the train that is slowly picking up speed. Suddenly Seungcheol lets go of your hand which throws you into a moment of panic but you keep running as you start to guess his plan.

You watch as he bolts for the entrance of the last carriage and in the blink of an eye, jumps inside.

"Holy shit." You curse. The next moment, he turns around and leans out the door, holding out one of his hands for you to grab onto while the other grips the handle by the door. "Come on! Grab my hand!"

Your legs are so tired they feel shaky, ready to collapse any moment. Still, you run with all your might, holding out your hand, reaching for his.

"Just a little bit! You can do it!" He encourages as the rhythm of the wheels intensifies, letting you know you do not have much time.

Oh shit.

Grunting in frustration, you put all the bridling remnants of your energy and dart forward which seems to be just enough, as your hand touches Seungcheol's. The next moment he grabs onto your hand and in the blink of an eye he is tugging your full weight and pulling you inside the carriage.

Upon entering, you collapse on the floor, panting loudly as Seungcheol lets go of your hand and cranes his neck out the door as if looking for something. Even though you are wheezing for air, you follow his line of sight and see two men running after the train as if they were chasing you. By now the train is moving at full speed, crossing the end of the platform, making them slow down and watch helplessly. "Who…are…they?" You choke between breaths.

"Your uncle's men." Seungcheol replies nonchalantly as he shuts the door and kneels next to you.

"How long have they been following us?"

"After we got to the station."

"Why didn't you say anything!"

"I didn't want to scare you." He replies, his hand wrapping around your shoulder. "Don't talk, just breathe. You did well."

You don't know if it is the intensity of the situation or the adrenaline crash or his words that make you slump in his arms, your body resting against his as you catch your breath. The feeling of his warmth against your body is something you are extremely grateful for at the moment.

"Please tell me you have tickets." You pant, resting your head against his shoulder.

"Of course. First class." _____ Five hours later, you are at your destination.

It is a cabin in a small town full of greenery and old architecture. It is very picturesque, located in between a vast area of mountains, somewhere you'd come to spend the summer with your family maybe. Even though your situation is the farthest thing from a vacation, it doesn't stop you from admiring the beauty before your eyes.

"The place is very beautiful, Seungcheol." You admire the surroundings as well as the cabin.

It's somewhat isolated from the town, shrouded by the forest, as the nearest market from here is about ten minutes drive.

"Thank you, my grandfather made it. He left it for me." He provides as he carries your small bag from the car he borrowed from a friend here and unlocks the door with a key.

"We should do something about your cut." You mention worriedly, crossing the threshold as you see him slightly wince while moving. The bleeding seems to have stopped after he put some pressure in the wound but it still needs to be cleaned.

Hearing your words, he looks down to see the wound before shrugging, "It's fine. The bleeding has stopped."

You expected him to say something like that so you take matters in your own hands. "Is there a first aid kit here?" You ask as you pad to the bathroom, looking around carefully and sure enough, inside the cabinets under the sink, there's a first aid box. Seungcheol murmurs grumbles of protest as you come back to the living area and ask for him to sit on the spot next to you on the couch. Thankfully he listens to you. As he unbuttons his shirt, you disinfect your hands while trying your best not to peek at the delicious row of abs that comes into display. As his wound comes into view you cannot help but wince at the sight, which doesn't go unnoticed by your bodyguard. His hand immediately reaches to take the cotton swab from your hand, murmuring. "I can do it myself."

You tsk in disapproval, sending him your best scolding glare before resting one of your hands on his shoulder for support and gently swiping on the wound with the swab dipped in antiseptic with your dominant hand. Seungcheol sits still all through it while you hold your breath, channelling all your focus on the task at hand.

It is scary; being this close to him and for some reason the act of cleaning up a cut is turned into something way too intimate by your brain. So, you don't dare to look in his eyes, afraid of what you'll see in them but terrified of what they will make you feel; something you can not resist or put a lid on, like the urge to cup his cheeks and kiss those irresistible lips.

You must be swiping at his wound with your face mere inches away from touching his chest for way too long because one of Seungcheol's hands comes to grab your wrist, stopping your movements. "I think that's enough," His voice holds the aloofness that you are used to which makes you sigh.

"Does it hurt? Do you want a painkiller?" You still find yourself asking.

Seungcheol frowns. "No, ____. I'm fine. It's just a cut, I won't die."

"Still—"

"Maybe you should focus on yourself. You have had a long day—"

"Why do you always do this!" It takes a few moments for you to realise you are yelling. You stand on your feet, hands fisted at your sides as the first aid kit falls on the floor from your lap, spilling its contents all over.

"What do you mean?" He asks and you absolutely loathe how his voice never changes, laced with that touch of monotony and indifference.

"Ugh, Seungcheol! Why do you always push me away! I want to help you! I'm just trying to take care of you!" This, however, seems to evoke an emotion from him because he is immediately on his feet, glaring at you, his large body towering over you.

"It is not your job to take care of me! If anyone here is going to take care of someone, it will be me making sure you are alive, is that clear?"

"I'm just trying to help you yet you keep pushing me away—"

"I do not need your help!" His voice is a roar of thunder, making you gasp as you take a step back. You've never seen him like this nor did you imagine someone so unbothered and composed had a side like this. "Who are you, huh? Why do you keep stepping over the line? Did I ask for your fucking help? I'm the last person you should be worried about, Ms Lee, you understand that?"

By now, angry tears have gathered in your eyes. Not wanting to cry in front of him you bite your lips and push past him as you run towards your room. "Fuck you, Choi Seungcheol!" —

You spend a long time in your room, crying and cursing him out before eventually falling asleep out of exhaustion.

When you are awake from your slumber, the clock reads 2 in the morning. Disoriented and irritated and hungry, the first thing you do after emptying your bladder is go hunt for something to eat. Even though you intended to avoid Seungcheol, it is impossible not to come across him as he sleeps on the couch in the living room, this one thankfully big enough for him to comfortably lie.

There's a small lamp in the corner of the room and the light from there is falling on one side of his face, highlighting his cheekbones.

You stand still for a moment to make sure that he's actually asleep, before tiptoeing to the kitchen. Pouring yourself a glass of water and you think of something easy to make that will not wake up the moody bastard in the next room.

However, you don't get too far with that thought because a moment later, you hear an all familiar groan float through the quiet air of the night. It is Seungcheol. And he's having a nightmare. Once again. It's like deja vu.

All his commands of not helping him fly out the window as you run to the living room. Before you can reach there, however, you hear a crash and upon entering you see Seungcheol, wide awake and sitting on the floor on his hands and knees, his entire frame shaking violently as he keeps uttering something under his breath, still stuck in his nightmare.

Your heart drops when you see the glass showpiece on the centre table shattered on the floor, along with the pillows and blanket that were previously on the couch. "Seungcheol!" You yell as you rush to him, carefully avoiding the broken shards of glass and sitting on your knees next to him as you try to get him out of his head and focus on you. His blown out pupils meet yours as his hands shake and his breath comes out in struggling pants.

He's having a panic attack.

"Seungcheol!" you call for him, trying your best to keep your voice stable which proves to be hard as your heart breaks for the man, hating seeing him in this state.

"Look at me. Listen to my voice. Breathe. Breathe with me. Look at me. Breathe, just breathe, you're going to be fine."

And so for the next few minutes, you try your best to calm the agitated man down, holding his body next to yours as you run your hands along his back, up and down, up and down.

You realise he's back to normal when the shuddering stops and his body remains immoblie next to you, as if he has fallen asleep. You know otherwise because when you pull back to take a look at his face, you find his eyes open, that familiar, empty and aloof gaze replacing the panicked ones. His lips are set to a thin line and you feel his whole body stiffen next to yours and just like you know he is back to normal.

This time, you do not ask him if he's okay or if he wants anything. Instead you get up from the floor quietly and go to the kitchen where you quickly make him a warm cup of tea.

When you return, he's still on the floor, sitting with his back against the sofa, hands resting on his knees as his head hangs low. Silently, you walk over and sit next to him before extending the steaming mug towards him.

You hold your breath, waiting for him to reject it and start spewing mean words at you but you are to be amazed.

Surprising you, he does none of those things but accepts the mug and takes a small sip. A tiny smile of victory graces your lips as you settle your gaze forward to the empty wall and sit in silence next to him.

As the steam gradually disappears from the mug and his dejected posture becomes tense and uptight, you know he's about to tell you off. Your guess turns out to be correct because just a moment later, he sets his mug down on the floor and turns to face you. His voice is stoic when he speaks, "I clearly told you not to—"

"Do you want to talk about it?" You interrupt him with a soft voice. He appears stunned as his mouth opens to say something but closes back to a tight line.

"I used to have nightmares as well, after the accident." You whisper, leaning back to the sofa, your unfocused gaze settled on the walls of the cabin as your mind disappears in the depths of the memories of those gruesome nights.

"I'd wake up screaming and crying. Every damn time I'd see the crash so vividly and the moments before it, my mom's desperate eyes at mine, her fading words, telling me to hold on, telling me that she loves me..." You lose your voice with a choke as tears blind your vision. A hand comes to rest on your shoulder gently and gives you a reassuring squeeze. It takes a few moments for your brain to process that it's Seungcheol and you are pleasantly surprised.

Your eyes search for him, and his face is solemn, his eyes showing just a reflection of kindness and sympathy. With a sad smile, you wipe the tears threatening to fall from your eyes. "It was horrible at the beginning when I couldn't speak. I'd wake up distressed and not finding my voice would make it even worse. For the first two months, Chan stayed with me every night. He'd try his best to calm me down but every night I'd be just as scared to go to bed."

"Eventually, the nightmares didn't come as often. Especially after I realised I could speak again and I was remembering bits and pieces of the accident and my suspicion was growing. I haven't had any nightmares for a while now but I remember how they made me feel. How awfully...real they felt." You sigh, shuddering at the thought.

A few moments of silence pass by as Seungcheol's hand drops from your shoulder. You don't expect him to spill his heart out but you are grateful that he didn't push you away and listened to you and comforted you. It is more than you ever thought you could get from him. Having this simple, somewhat bitter moment of intimacy is enough to soothe your love starved heart. However, you realise it's a night full of surprises when Seungcheol starts speaking. "I was in the military, as you know. I joined when I was eighteen. I lost my parents the year before so it was just me and my grandfather." His voice is quiet as he fixes his eyes out the window, looking at the dark night sky.

You follow his gaze and make a quick observation that there are no stars tonight, just an empty, dark sky, before setting your gaze on Seungcheol's face.

"My grandfather served in the military during the early years of his life and I wanted to follow his footsteps. The first few years were tough but good. I enjoyed them as they kept me busy and focused. During my fifth year in the military, my grandfather passed away peacefully in his sleep. I was on break at that time so I was there with him in his last moments. However, it still broke me. Sending him off was one of the hardest things I had ever done."

He pauses, making you hold your breath and anticipate his next words. His expression is unreadable, his sharp gaze focused outside when he continues. "I returned to the military a different man. My life as a soldier became everything to me. I worked ten times harder than anyone else as the military turned into my entire life. I jumped through the ranks very quickly and went on various missions as a SEAL. All of them were dangerous but successful as I led my teams out safely each time. Until Sudan."

There is another heavy pause as you feel the air thicken with tension. You know the worst part is about to begin and as you observe his gaze become more and more unfocused, you can't help but dread whatever is coming next. "It was a humanitarian mission. Me and my team were tasked to rescue some families from a group of local terrorists. They were held inside a camp in the middle of the desert. The infiltration was successful. But, just as we were escaping, the terrorists found out and came at us with double manpower. They had a couple of high powered explosives which we were unprepared for because they were not supposed to have such weapons."

"As my team and I were exchanging fire against them, a bomb went off right next to me. It is the last thing I remember before waking up in a hospital bed a week later."

"The explosion fucked up left leg. I needed three surgeries and months of rehabilitation. But that wasn't the worst part. The worst part is that it cost three of my teammates their lives."

Oh Seungcheol. Tears are beading down your eyes as you let his words soak into you.

"It happened almost six years ago but it still haunts me. How I fucked up. How I killed them." "Seungcheol, no!" You scold, your voice not as powerful as you'd like it to be as it breaks mid way. "You did not kill them, you hear me? It was an accident. A horrible one but it was not your fault in any way. They died honourably and think of all the others you saved, all the times you led your team out of harm successfully. Think about all the lives you have saved, all the people you have helped." Your grip is strong on his forearms as you turn him to face you fully. His eyes meet you; bleak and hopeless and the urge to wipe away all his pain soars within you. It's a shame you can't do that so you do the next best thing you can think of.

You pull him in a tight hug. You wrap yourself around him, resting your chin over his shoulder as you close your eyes and hold him tight, the act a bit hard due his huge build. For several long moments he doesn't hug you back until you finally feel his warm hands creep on your back as he rests his face against your neck, cocooning your body with his.

You swallow a sob and blink furiously to drive away the tears, your hands stroking his hair in gentle motions. "It's alright, Cheol. You are going to be just fine. It is all going to be okay."

His response is to hold you tighter and you welcome his vulnerability, his pain and agony with open arms, breathing it in as if it is your own. Long moments are spent as you two remain in each other's embrace until you finally sit back to take a look at him.

"Maybe you should talk to a therapist?"

"I did," he sighs, running a hand through his soft locks. "After the accident, I saw one for almost a year. I was prescribed so many medicines and I almost got addicted to them even though they weren't doing much to help. So I decided to quit altogether and moved here, in his cabin. I stayed here for about six months, trying to pull myself together before an old friend of mine called, asking if I wanted to join his private security company. I agreed because I couldn't live in solitude any longer without killing myself and now, I'm here." You nod, watching him intently as you two sit with mere inches of space between each other's faces. In the back of your mind, you realize that this is the most intimate you have been with Seungcheol and probably you will ever get to be so you can't help but speak the next words. "You are so beautiful, Seungcheol. Inside and out. You are such an amazing person.I only wish you would know that." Your words can barely be heard because you speak so softly but it contains emotions from the deepest, rawest part of your heart. Sitting with him on the floor, in the middle of the night at a cabin in the woods, talking about your deepest traumas and secrets is something you never thought you would experience but now you realise, it is a treasure, a moment of profoundness that you will carry close to your heart for the rest of your life.

Seungcheol's eyes widen for a fraction upon hearing your words before he shifts, trying to pull away from you but your strong grip on his hands stops him. Once again, you find yourself confessing. "Ever since you've come to my life, I feel hopeful, even though we are going through so much trouble. I want to live again and I feel happy and hopeful when I look at you. And I can never thank you enough for that."

Seungcheol's Adams apple bobs as he swallows and the expression on his face is so vivid you realize you have left him speechless. A small, shy smile sets on your lips as you squeeze his hands softly, your thumb stroking over his bruised knuckles. While your mind swoons over how tender this moment is and how beautiful he looks and how soft his lips appear, he inches his face closer to you before pressing his lips against yours.

At first, you believe it's a dream.

It is bound to be, no?

Blinking multiple times, you make sure that it in fact is not a dream but it seems to take too long because Seungcheol is pulling away from you, the apology right there at the tip of his tongue. However, you do not let him speak the words he doesn't mean. Instead, you do what you have only done in your late night fantasies, you cup his cheeks and pull his face down to yours, meeting his lips in a fierce kiss. You do not even think of holding back, pouring every bit of passion and need and admiration for him into it.

Thankfully, he reciprocates, cupping your neck and jaw, tilting your face for better access.

And it's wonderland. It is everything you imagined and more, everything you want and need, everything that can heal you.

In the rosy haze of desire and desperation, your hungry hands travel down to the hem of his white t-shirt, tugging on it in a futile attempt to get it off. The action gets the attention of Seungcheol as he dettaches his lips from yours, taking a look at your face.

"_____—" he makes a weak attempt to stop you but his words die on his tongue as you hastily stand up, dragging him with him. Pressing a soft finger on his lips, you shush him as you bring your face closer to him and whisper in his ear. "Don't push me away Seungcheol, please. I need you. And you need me too."

There is a battle in his gaze as he stares at your longing visage for a moment with a clenched jaw before muttering a curse underneath his breath. The next moment, you are being carried to your bedroom and in the blink of an eye, you are standing in front of your bed with his frame towering over you.

"You wanted this?" He teases but his eyes are lit with a fire that is inextinguishable as he takes off his shirt and even in the dimly lit room, you do not miss the carved perfection of his body, littered with scars here and there. In vain hope, you pray that your face isn't visible as you ogle him but you know it is because his unrelenting stare breaks your skin into goosebumps.

As you are stuck in a trance of lust, he takes a step closer to you before his breath grazes your ear. "Lift your hands, angel."

The next moment, he pulls your nightshirt off your body, leaving you only in your sleeping shorts. He wastes no time, attacking them right next as they come off with a tug and you fall into your bed. You have no time to overthink or feel shy because Seungcheol cages your body underneath his as he crawls to you, a dark look of hunger on his face.

"You are a fucking temptress, you know that?" He grunts, a calloused thumb reaching out to stroke your cheek. You lean into his touch, eyes falling closed at the contact as a soft sigh escapes your lips but the next moment Seungcheol is grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you in for a heated kiss.

It's all teeth and tongue as he devours your mouth, two tongues entangled in a fierce rhythm of tango before finally letting you gasp for air. "Crawl up," his voice is that of a quiet command which you follow instantly, letting him sit comfortably on his knees as he spreads your legs wide.

The very next moment a squeak leaves your mouth as Seungcheol pushes his index finger inside you, your wetness granting easy access. He makes a noise, something akin to an animalistic groan as his digit easily slips inside.

"Fuck, you're so wet for me," he murmurs as he inserts another finger and then another before curling them inside you.

"Seungcheol!" You yell, grabbing the sheets as your hips lift off the mattress due to the electrifying jolt of pleasure. Your reaction makes him grunt as he fastens his face and you feel your legs tremble, making you think that you are going to come already.

Your core tightens around his fingers as more wetness leaks from you, only amplified when he brushes his thumb against your clit. Another gasp and a shudder of your body makes Seungcheol smirk as he whispers, "Gonna come, angel?"

You nod your head aggressively, your hips chasing his fingers in their own rhythm and just as the tingles of your release soars in your body, Seungcheol removes his fingers.

"No!" Your protest is immediate but the man only gives you a cruel smile as he makes a show of licking his fingers clean. The act itself is extremely hot and you cannot help but release another groan of frustration.

"Seungcheol! Please let me—"

"You are gonna lie back and let me eat your pussy now, hmm? After I'm satisfied, I will let you come." He announces, lips hovering over your thighs, the touch of his warm breath giving your goosebumps. The low gravel of his voice paired with the way he keeps looking at you from between your thighs makes you swallow thickly before lying your head back into the pillow, a shuddering breath leaving your lips.

"Good girl."

Good girl.

Your core clenches deliciously. However, you do not get to soak in the warmth of his praise because the next moment he flicks your clit with his tongue and your scream pierces the night air. Your body writhes while he holds your thighs open in a strong grip, incoherent gasps and curses of pleasure falling from your lips. Seungcheol is like a man starved, as he eats you out mercilessly, his tongue going deep inside your most intimate parts. You can't remain still, tears of pleasure stinging your eyes as your body shakes and pleas fall from your lips.

"Oh f-fuck! Seungcheol! Please!"

You yourself do not know what you are begging for. It's the sweetest torture, one you want to end but also continue forever.

Your release has wet your inner thighs and paired with Seungcheol's saliva they drip down to your asshole but Seungcheol doesn't stop. He brings his attention to your hard, swollen clit now which he flicks repeatedly with his tongue.

"Fuck! I can't! Please let me come!" You are convinced your voice can be heard from miles away. "You wanna come?" He grunts between breaths, voice muffled.

"Yes, yes! Please!"

"Then come. Come for me, my angel." The command has your toes curling as he gives a harsh suck to your clit and in an instant, you go off like a firework. The heated coil in your belly snaps as your body twitches, sending you headfirst into an orgasm so good, so deep, tears drip down your eyes. All through it, Seungcheol keeps sucking your pussy, almost making you numb before stopping with a final, sloppy kiss on your clit and sitting back.

Even in the darkness, you see his lips shine with your release.

"You are an aphrodisiac, angel." His words caress your skin as he leans forward and presses soft, tantalising kisses on your jaw and down your throat.

"Please, fuck me now," your voice is a cry of plea as you chase his lips for a kiss. He entertains you, tangling your mouths in an embrace of passion as you taste yourself on his tongue. One of his hands moves down amidst the kiss and your foggy brain registers that he's taking off his sweatpants.

With a soft groan he takes off his lips from yours and frees himself from your entangled limbs, standing up to kick his boxers and sweatpants down his legs.

And oh dear lord is he a view. You admire him in his nakedness in the half lit room, drinking every inch of him. You can't stray your eyes from his cock, hard and leaking as you gulp and send a prayer to the sky, marvelling at his size.

Seungcheol crawls back into the bed, his movements akin to the grace of a panther, his eyes lit with ferocity and huger as he pins both your wrists over your head with one hand.

"I'm going to fuck you so good you will be ruined for any other man." He promises, giving you a delicious shiver on your spine. You want to scream that you don't need any other man, you never will but the thought dies in your mind when you feel his tip prodding at your core. He slides in easily, almost embarrassingly easy as your sopping cunt welcomes him with wide open arms. A guttural groan escapes from his throat as he buries his head in the crook of your neck, spewing curses. The sound makes you clench around him which makes him curse again.

"You are so fucking tight, fuck!"

You can only respond in an incoherent hum as he starts moving inside you, making you throw your head back and let out a loud moan. He raises his head to look at you and your eyes contact and in a second, everything becomes more intense. The look in his eyes is ever captivating and ruthless while he pistons in and out of you tirelessly, hitting that sensitive spot inside you perfectly each time.

"You're going to be the death of me." He whispers, almost as if he's talking to himself. His mouth works on your jaw, moving down to your throat and sucking harshly on the soft flesh, making you shudder in pleasure. "Seungcheol!" You cry. "Harder! Please!"

"Any harder and I'll come right now."

"Do it! Come inside me!" All other thoughts and worries have left your mind and beg him for more, already cock drunk.

"Fuck, you sure?"

"I'm on pills, Cheol. I'm sure," you pant, clutching onto his back as he increases his pace, leaning back to sit on his knees as his hands move to your waist, holding you in a bruising grip.

"Gonna fill you up then, angel. Make this pussy bleed my come." He promises with a snark, his eyes trained on your face as he delivers one particular thrust that has you arching off the bed and seeing stars.

Then there is a brush of touch on your hard clit and a quiet command of coming which has fireworks exploding all throughout your body. You cry out, from pleasure and pain so addictive that white spots dance in your vision, hands twisting the fabric of the bedsheet so hard it would be no surprise if they tore. The next moment you feel Seungcheol release inside you and the feeling of his warm cum coating your insides gives your body another round of shivers as you completely blank out. You are transported to a hazy place where you feel like you are floating through the air as you lose all sense of connection from this world.

It takes a while for you to recover and once you do, you realise Seungcheol has slumped over next to you as his breathing gradually returns to normal. You turn your head slightly to look at him and just as your eyes meet, he makes a move to get up. Your hand immediately latches onto his arm. "Don't go." You croak.

"I need to clean you up." His voice is quiet.

"Later." You whisper, begging with your eyes. "Just lay with me for a while." He remains still for a moment, probably battling with himself before lying back next to you. He stretches one of his arms and you quickly use it as a pillow, shuffling closer to his body and resting your palm on his chest. Seungcheol tenses next to you but you don't let it get to you as your hand gently strokes an old scar right beneath his chest. Just as you are almost falling asleep, you feel his hand wrap around your waist, holding you softly and a smile graces your lips.

I love you, Choi Seungcheol.

— The next morning, Seungcheol starts avoiding you like you are the plague. As soon as you step out of your bedroom, Seungcheol, who was sitting in the living area quite literally bolts outside with his laptop and everything, throwing a curt good morning to you and not even sparing a glance.

You are hurt, to say the least. While a silly part of you expected that maybe you would wake up with him in the same bed and have breakfast together before some more lovemaking, the realistic part of you did not expect him to act like this.

Like nothing happened.

Or worse, acting like what happened was a mistake.

Does he really think that last night was a mistake?

It hurts to even think that he might believe that so you push that thought away with all your might. Instead, you focus on making yourself a nice breakfast before soaking in the tub for a while as you try to focus all your attention on plotting your uncles demise.

Once you are nice and clean after the soak, you find Seungcheol in the kitchen, drinking something from his mug as he talks over the phone with someone. You wait for him to finish, using the spare time to admire how good he looks— slightly messy hair, an old grey t-shirt and grey sweatpants. Once again, your mind travels to how good he railed you last night but before it can travel too far, you shake yourself back to the present.

"I need to talk to you." You announce as soon as he sets his phone down. Seungcheol's head snaps up to your voice and a grim expression settles on his face before he murmurs.

"There's nothing to talk about. Last night was an accident. We were both vulnerable and it just... happened." It's like someone ripped your beating heart off of your chest or dumped you into a bucket of ice or better yet, did that together. Yet it still wouldn't hurt as much as his words pierce through you right now, leaving you utterly speechless as you just blink repeatedly, trying to make sure you heard that right. "It was not an accident, Seungcheol. You know it." Your voice is deathly quiet and you can feel yourself on the precipice of snapping.

"The hell it wasn't, _____." He snaps. "I am your fucking bodyguard and you are my client. I am not getting paid to take advantage of you!"

"Take advantage of me?" You seethe as an overwhelming urge to punch something, like his face, overcomes you. You have to take a deep breath in to form the next words. "I am not some helpless, pathetic girl that you can take advantage of. Whatever happened last night was real and with our consent. The man last night was the real you, the one you keep hiding, not this!" Seungcheol clenches his jaw, running a frustrated hand through his hair. "Either way, it should not have happened. We, you and me—" he points between the two of you. "It does not work. It won't."

"Seungcheol— "

"That's enough _______."

"No, tell me. Enlighten me, please," Your voice drips with sarcasm as you take a step towards him, crossing your hands in front of your chest. "Why do we not work? What delightful, eye opening information has been revealed upon you which led you to this wise conclusion?" The twitch in his jaw clearly tells you that he does not appreciate your sarcasm but you've had enough of his stubbornness, especially when it is clear that he wants you as well.

"So far, I'll I've heard is that I can't have you not, I don't want you. Quit playing games with yourself Seungcheol!"

"I am a fucking loose grenade!" His scream is abrupt, making you jolt. The veins in his neck pop out as he steps back, his frantic eyes glaring at you. "I cannot keep you safe! Not from myself. I am a man whose past haunts him. I can't fucking sleep at night without getting nightmares and smashing things! I cannot pass a day without the guilt of my past following me! I am headed towards hell and I cannot drag you down with me. I am not the man for you, _____, try to understand!"

"I think that's for me to decide, no?" You take another step towards him, trying to calm him down.

"No!" He yells, stepping back. "Enough! Just— enough. This conversation is over. I'm going out and when I return, we will pretend that none of this ever happened."

"You fucking asshole!" You normally do not curse. Out loud at least. Your mother had a strict rule of no bad language and you and your brother followed that rule to a t. No matter what you have encountered so far in your life, nothing gave you the urge to curse half as much as you want to right now.

"That's right. I am an asshole." He states calmly, sparing you a blank look before turning and heading for the main door.

"You fucking son of a bitch! I did not want to talk about this in the first place! When I said I need to talk with you, I meant about my uncle, you idiot!"

He stops in his tracks before slowly turning his head to look at you. "What about him?" His calmness makes you absolutely livid and even though you try your hardest to form words, the only thing your tongue seems to want to utter are curse words.

"It doesn't concern you anymore, asswipe." Seungcheol's lips form a thin line as he watches you quietly for a few moments.

"Do not do anything stupid,_____." He has the nerve to order you before marching out of the house, slamming the door loudly behind him.

"Go to hell, dickhead!" —

The rest of the day is uneventful as you two mind your own business, avidly avoiding each other. After Seungcheol leaves and blesses you with solitude you pace around the house angrily before going for a walk in the forest behind the cabin.

It is not dense or uncomfortable as a walking trek has been premade and you take a long walk which helps you clear your head just a bit. It takes your mind off of your stubborn bodyguard and back onto your uncle as you think of ways to trap him in a position he cannot easily get out of, as early as possible. With the plan you have in mind, it proves to be a bit hard, because you are staying in the middle of nowhere and your uncle has no clue where you are.

You walk home an hour later with a less obscure mind and send Chan a text through the burner phone, letting him know that you are alive and well.

Your brother video calls you soon after and you almost forget that you are supposed to be mute at the joy of seeing your brother. It kills you that you have to lie to him but you bite your teeth and do it, telling him that work got too overwhelming and you are taking some days off and promise him of your quick return. You know your brother is not stupid and he has started doubting you but he is kind enough not to push you for more, which you are grateful for.

Seungcheol returns home a little after noon with more supplies. You act like he does not exist as you finish your lunch and retire to your room where you spend the rest of the day, lying in your bed and staring at the ceiling, thinking about everything and nothing. As the skies bleed to dark, dinner time rolls around and you two eat separately. Once again, Seungcheol makes no attempt to talk to you or acknowledge you just like you are doing but it still infuriates you, which you try to control by doing copious amounts of yoga in your room, before finally falling asleep quite late.

However, disaster strikes with the arrival of dawn, as the first rays of sun kiss the sky.

You are snapped out of sleep as you open your eyes and find Seungcheol hovering over you, shaking you awake.

"Wake up, _____! Your uncle is here. He found us!"

Immediately you bolt upright, half thinking that all this is a vivid dream. As your panicked eyes meet his, your shaky hands clutching his biceps and you whisper. "W-what? How? I- I don't understand."

"I don't know either." Seungcheol grunts, craning his neck to look out the window. "There are two jeeps heading towards us. You need to get out."

As if on cue, you hear the loud roar of the engines as they come to a stop right in front of the cabin. Seungcheol helps your shaky form out of bed and ushers you down the stairs.

"Take the back exit. Hide in the forest until I come for you. If I don't, call Jihoon for help. His number is here. And take this." he explains, handing his burner phone and a gun to you but your brain is stuck in a loop, not processing that there is a fucking gun in your hand.

"What do you mean if I don't? You are coming with me—"

"No. I will hold them off while you escape. Go, now." He orders, pushing you towards the back door of the kitchen.

"_____! I know you're in there! Come out while I am being nice and maybe we can come to an agreement! You do not want to end up like your mother, do you now?" Your body freezes as you hear your uncle yell from the front door. The anger evoked from his words makes you want to stay and confront him but Seungcheol keeps pushing you, telling you to run.

And so, sparing one last longing look at Seungcheol, you tuck your weapon in your waist and run. You have not gotten even fifty feet away from the cabin when the first round of shots echo through the air. Your blood freezes as you come to a halt, turning your head around to look at the cabin as gunshots echo through the air.

You have to swallow a lump in your throat as tears gather in your eyes, the temptation to go back increasing. But you know going back is not a good idea because it will put Seungcheol's life at risk, more than it already is. So you keep moving deeper into the forest, the treks familiar because you have been here before and you make your way through very easily. When you come across a small cliff shrouded by thick bushes you decide to hide there, waiting to see if your uncle's men come around here. Confirming your guess, they do, after a while as they jog through, looking around for you. However, they fail to estimate your hiding place and continue deeper into the forest down the trek and just then, an idea forms in your head.

You have to go back.

The universe is on your side because you realise after some peeking around and shuffling through trees that there is another road that you can use to go back to the cabin. This one is definitely unused and riskier but you are determined to make this work. So, with a deep breath you jog through the narrow, muddy lane and soon enough, you find your way back.

The cabin is now quiet, eerily so.

The back door remains open, granting you access and you carefully step one foot in, holding your breath.

It is a mess; bullet holes scattered around, a few bodies slumped on the ground, specks of blood all over the floor. The scene is bone chilling and you have to take several deep breaths to calm down. You can hear noises coming from somewhere in the house, grunts and yells, as if people are fighting, which is what is undoubtedly happening. No matter how severe your urge is to follow the sound and make sure Seungcheol is okay, you decide against it, putting faith in his capabilities instead and sending a prayer out to heaven. Careful not to step on any blood, you make your way through the mess and gingerly climb up the stairs, pausing to make sure no one is around. The coast is clear, thankfully, as no one is upstairs and you head straight for the little storeroom next to the bedroom, where you kept the very little belongings you brought with you.

You took special care to hide your prized possession, the evidence file. It stays secure inside a special compartment Seungcheol showed you that is situated under the wooden floor. Quickly removing the carpet, you open the hatch and look inside to make sure the files are there.

And they are, thankfully. Picking them up, you hold them to your chest and close the hatch, putting everything in its place while holding your breath through all of it. In the next second, the voice you dreaded echoes through the air.

"I believe I am going to need that, _____."

You whip your head back to see your dear uncle standing at the door frame, lips twisted in a diabolic smirk like he got you just where he wanted to. "I knew you would lead me to the evidence, niece. I just had to wait. And I knew you would contact your dear little brother no matter what so I put a little tracker on his phone and it led me here. Easy, no?" He shakes his head, laughing cockily at his plan.

Your blood runs cold as your fingers grip the envelope tightly.

"Over my dead body." You hiss.

"Oh yeah, and my men told me you could speak?" He taunts, shaking his head some more. "Can you imagine my surprise when I heard that? Tell me, were you faking it all along? To what, get some pity points?"

"You will rot in jail, asshole. I will personally see to it." You seethe, clutching the folder tighter against your chest. Your uncle's face loses its amusement as he stares at you for a while, cold and unblinking before reaching back and pulling out a gun. Your heart skips a beat as he points it right at you.

"The file, ______. I am not here to play games."

"Never." There is an immediate deafening noise of gunfire, making you squeeze your eyes shut and for a horrible moment, you think he has shot you. Opening your eyes, you see there's a hole in the roof where he has aimed his gun before pointing it back at you.

"Don't make me kill you like your mother. I need you alive for all the other plans I have."

"She was your sister in law!" You cry.

"She was a thorn in my way!" He seethes. "A conniving bitch trying to take the company from me and my son! Always challenging me! Always speaking against me!"

"It was never yours to begin with, you ugly old man! She knew you would steal it from us!"

"I dare you to speak one more word and the next bullet will be in your hand and the one after that will be in your leg. I won't do the mercy of killing you, _____. I will put you through hell on earth before I grant you the freedom of death." He sneers, eyes fueled with hatred. You swallow, your breath coming out in heavy pants as you decide on what to do next.

Finally, with a defeated sigh you raise your arms in surrender and take a small, tiny step towards him, trying to appear as meek and harmless as possible. "You could have not killed her. You could have sent her away if she was a problem." You whisper, voice cracking. "Huh," he scoffs. "As if that bitch would listen. The only way was to get rid of her. For good. I knew she would be in the car with you that day and I planned to kill two birds with one stone but alas, that didn't happen" He shrugs, pouting. "It's alright, though. I know how to use it in my favour. I have so many plans for you. You're gonna come with me and sign off—"

"Drop the gun, Jin."

Seungcheol!

It is Seungcheol, pointing his Glock at the back of Jin's head as he appears behind him all of a sudden. You are flooded with gratitude so big tears come to your eyes and hope flares in your chest seeing him alive, hurt and dishevelled but alive. However, your hope is quick to die down when Jin speaks the next words.

"You sure you wanna do that, son?" Your uncle remains unaffected as he slightly turns his head, his words directed to Seungcheol. "You pull the trigger and by the time it has hit me I can pull the trigger as well and her brains will be splattered all over these walls. You don't want that, do you? Besides, I know as a matter of fact your boss here wants me alive. She has grand plans for me, is that not right, _____?"

His eyes pan back to you, the evilest of smiles on his face as you grit your teeth, trying to keep yourself from doing anything rash.

You underestimated your uncle for sure.

"Drop the gun, son. I won't say it again." He orders, taking a menacing step towards you. "You drop it and nobody gets hurt. I need this bitch alive for everything I have planned." Seungcheol's eyes meet yours and the helplessness and frustration is visible in them. You watch with bated breath as he slowly points the gun away from Jin's head and sets it down on the ground, raising his hands in surrender. A satisfied smile sets on your uncle's face and he lets his guard down for a moment, a fraction of a second, which Seungcheol takes advantage of. In the blink of an eye, Seungcheol jumps on him, grabbing his legs and dragging him down onto the floor. His grip on the gun falters, letting it fall on the floor and as he makes a move to reach for it, Seungcheol kicks it to the farthest corner of the room.

A scuffle between them ensues and Seungcheol tries to overpower Jin and pin him down onto the floor. However, your uncle, the master of playing dirty, manages to pull a switchblade from his pocket and slashes Seungcheol on the arm, making him fall off of him. "I'm gonna fucking gut you, you son of a bitch!" He yells, charging for Seungcheol as he pins him down, aiming the blade towards his throat but Seungcheol stops him with a practised move. An intense battle of power ensues but you've had enough as you reach for the gun Seungcheol gave you, tucked at your waistband.

Pointing it straight at Jin's head, you yell. "Drop the knife, Jin! I really don't want to kill you!"

"You don't have the balls to shoot me, bitch!" He yells back, not even glancing at you, busy subduing Seungcheol as he stabs him in the shoulder. That motherfucker!

He underestimated you greatly.

Furious, you pull the trigger and the bullet lands right where you aimed it, Jin's knee. With a howl of pain, he falls off of Seungcheol who quickly gets back up and wraps an arm around his throat in a chokehold.

"You filthy little bitch! You fucking —"

Seungcheol tightens the grip on his neck and after struggling for a few moments, Jin passes out, making you sigh in relief as you step back and lean against the wall. "You shot him." Seungcheol's voice is laced with bewilderment as he watches you with a look of surprise and admiration. "Self defence," you shrug, closing your eyes and inhaling a deep breath. "Tie him up. I'll call the police."

— Fifteen minutes later the cops arrive with blaring sirens followed by an ambulance.

As soon as the ambulance comes to a stop, you are dragging Seungcheol towards it, yelling at the staff to get a look at his shoulder, around which you have wrapped a cloth to lessen the bleeding. As a responder attends to Seungcheol's injury, two policemen rush into the house when you tell them that the culprit is tied up inside.

You stand out front with your arms crossed, the morning sun now high in the sky, the warm rays caressing your face as you watch your uncle being dragged out of the house and into one of the police cars. He is yelling and cursing his complaints, his eyes filled with hatred as they come in contact with yours.

Your body goes rigid, the revelation coming upon you that he is done for and he knows it. You know he is definitely going to deny everything but he has another surprise coming his way.

An officer comes to you, talking about the next procedures and asking basic questions but you cannot quite register his words as your body finally gets off the high of adrenaline and realisation hits you like a bulldozer, it's over.

It is over. You got him.

I got him, Mom. I will make him pay.

Seungcheol, who sits at the back of the ambulance while a nurse gives his shoulder a temporary fix, listens to the officer carefully, answering his questions in your place before thanking him as he takes his leave.

"Are you okay?" Seungcheol's uninjured hand comes up to gently touch your arm, making you jump as you are snapped out of your reverie.

"Would you like me to look at you, ma'am? The responder offers as she takes off her gloves. "You look pale." You shake your head, swallowing as you wrap your arms around yourself. Seungcheol gives your hand a tug, making you sit next to him. "Please take a look at her." He says to the nurse, who nods while he shrugs off the blanket sitting on his shoulder and wraps it around yours with his free hand.

"Breathe, _____." He speaks softly, his hand holding yours. You nod, focusing on your breath for the next few minutes as the nurse does a quick check up on you. There are a lot of unshed tears within you and a lot of emotions you need to let out but you just cannot bring yourself to do that right now. There is this numb feeling all over you accompanied by an overwhelmingness.

And you know very well the war isn't over just yet. You have to make sure your uncle ends up behind bars. Even though you have some control over your emotions right now, you remember that you have to explain every hideous detail to Chan and you know will break down then. You know you will break down again when you visit your mother's grave but you know this time, you will feel less guilty of being the only one surviving, less in agony because you have avenged her.

"I have called my lawyer. He's preparing all the documents. We should head home now." You speak, eyes staring at the sun shining over the hills and the lush greenery.

This place is magical. You want to come here again, someday.

"Okay," Seungcheol agrees as his hand comes to rest over yours and he gives you a reassuring squeeze. Your eyes pan back to his face, littered with cuts before settling on his shoulder. You open your mouth to scold him for getting hurt when he sighs. "What were you thinking, _____? I told you not to come back to the cabin. Your uncle had you just where he wanted. You could have been seriously hu—

"I had a plan, Seungcheol."

"What plan?" He looks annoyed. A soft smile graces your lips as your hand travels to the front pocket of your shirt. You pick the pen sitting there and hand it to Seungcheol with a mischievous smile. Frowning, he examines the item carefully until it dawns on him as his eyes widen. "This has a camera!"

"Yep! It can record audio and video very clearly. I had it on me for a while and as I was hiding in the forest I suddenly realised that I couldn't get better proof against my uncle than right then. So I went back to be the bait."

"Still, you don't realise how risky—"

"Trust me, I do. But I had no option. Besides, my gut told me that my uncle really didn't want to kill me unless he had to because after everything that happened, I was more valuable to him alive than dead." Seungcheol stares at you, all a loss for words before shaking his head in disbelief.

"Wanna know something more fun?"

"What?" He is wary. "The documents I hid? They are not the real ones!" You cannot hold back a laugh as Seungcheol looks as you, more perplexed than before.

"I mean, come on! I'm not that stupid! I wouldn't carry them with me knowing my uncle is looking for them! I hid the original files in Chan's safe after I had him promise me not to touch them."

"Wow…" Seungcheol shakes his head in utter disbelief as he tries to wrap his head around everything. "Still, if I hadn't come for you on time…"

"I knew you would, Seungcheol. I believed that deep in my heart." You whisper, fingers lacing with his as your eyes meet. Seungcheol swallows and looks away, blinking. With a soft sigh, you stand up. "Are you sure you can travel this long in the car? Should I call in a helicopter for you?" Seungcheol rolls his eyes, standing up as well. "It's a fucking graze, _____. I have had way worse and I survived. I will be fine. I already feel fine." Your eyes narrow at him and you want to reprimand him but you cannot find it in your heart to do so. With a sigh, you usher him towards the car. "Let's go then. I'll drive."

— The next 48 hours pass by in the blink of an eye as you go through the most hectic time of your life.

The first thing you do upon entering the city is sit down with your lawyer for a detailed discussion on the next steps you are going to take and hand the video recording to him. After that you ask Chan to come over to your place where you explain everything to him from a to z. It proves to be one of the worst moments of your life as you watch your brother's face pale with every word you utter and by the time you finish explaining everything he goes as still as a statue before abruptly taking his leave.

The next day you are asked to give a statement to the police along with Seungcheol which takes quite a while as you explain everything in detail. During that time the news breaks about your uncle getting arrested and charged for both murder and attempted murder leading to a flock of reporters chasing you down wherever you go.

The stocks of the company are also affected as a side effect of the scandal and you have to spend a good amount of time in the office as you try to reassure everyone and get everything under control with your business partners.

On the third day after Jin's arrest, the police officially read out all the charges against him and announce the dates of the trials which sends the press into a second round of frenzy as they try to get your opinion on it, mobbing you whenever you step outside.

Your father is also taken in for questioning where he, thankfully, admits to his crimes and then he is also arrested with the charge of withholding information. He claims that his brother was blackmailing him so he had to keep the murder a secret. Whatever his reason was, you do not care anymore.

You refrain from engaging with the press as much as possible, other than the press conference arranged by your company that you had to attend but you do not make any comments about your uncle or father, just announcing that they will be punished accordingly and you and your brother will do your utmost best to protect the company.

Amid all of this, Seungcheol refuses to leave your side, even with his injured shoulder.

The wound was not deep but he was advised not to move the shoulder too much, an instruction he didn't pay any heed to when he was protecting you from the fleet of reporters. Taking it a step further than that, he called his friend over from the agency, the man called Jihoon, to be your second bodyguard because he believed that he was not functioning at his best.

Overall, it turns out to be a crazy, sleep deprived but exciting few days as you see all the pieces of the puzzle fall into its rightful place.

What is not exciting, however, is the straining relationship between you and your brother. After your confession to everything, he grows quieter and avoids talking with you unless it's absolutely necessary, which you understand and respect. He is processing the murder of his mother and his family members' participation in it and you also understand he feels betrayed because you kept so much information from him.

Still, it hurts.

This is why it is a surprise when you see him walk through the double doors to your office on a weekday morning as you were going through the legal statements of the company. "Chan!" You gasp, rising from your chair, eyes wide open in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

He gives a half hearted shrug before sitting down on the couch by the floor to ceiling windows, his gaze focused on the skyline. "I had some things to tell you." Okay... You chew on your lip as you walk over to him and take a seat in front of him. You watch your brother stare off into the distance out the window before he finally heaves a long sigh and looks at you. The sadness and exhaustion are clear in his eyes and it breaks your heart. This whole media circus has not been easy for him either, especially because he knew nothing of what was going on and the press attacked him like a bunch of piranhas.

"The week has been crazy for you." He states, matter of factly.

You give him a small, sad smile. "Same goes for you."

"Yes. I am feeling a lot of emotions together however..." he stops for a second before boring his gaze at your eyes. "I cannot help but feel betrayed."

"Oh Chan—"

"No, it's okay." He holds up his hand, stopping you. "I know that was not your intention and it is not your fault. It is none of our fault. I feel betrayed by this... family, this situation. I feel so angry that all of this happened right under my nose and I—" he huffs, dragging a hand through his hair as his voice fades. "I knew nothing about it."

"It is not your fault."

"It kind of is." He grunts. "I...I should have been more careful, more aware—"

"You couldn't have prevented it, Chan. It would only get you hurt in the process."

"Exactly! It would and that's how it should be. We're a team, you and I. So I should be equally responsible but only you got hurt in this process. You have been carrying all this burden with you since the accident. Not to mention the crazy stunt at the cabin. Are you insane, _____? I saw the video and he had a gun for fucks sake!"

"So did I!" You admonish. "Besides, he wasn't going to shoot me."

"You couldn't be sure!"

You drag out a sigh in surrender as you admire your brother for a silent moment as he suddenly reminds you of Seungcheol. "Whatever it was, it's in the past and I am safe now. However, I am sorry. For lying to you, for keeping you in the dark."

"Yes, I am actually quite mad at you for acting mute in front of me." He narrows his gaze at your face.

"Well at least you learned sign language because of it!"

He snorts and you chuckle, a more comfortable silence falling between the two of you as you stare at each other for a while with melancholic smile on your faces. After a while, he announces, "I am going away for a while."

"What? Where?" You gasp.

"I don't know where, actually. Somewhere with a beach and lots of sunshine maybe. Away from…here." He smiles faintly. "I just...I need to be away for a while and process everything and simply be in my own company. I just need some time, sis." Tears shine in your eyes. "I understand." You whisper. You really do but it still pains you because you feel responsible for breaking his heart.

"Take all the time you need. I'll handle the business while you are gone."

"Good. I know you will manage it well, maybe even better than me," he gives you a smile, a real one that reflects the shine in his eyes and you mirror it back. He stands up, buttoning his suit jacket. "Oh, by the way, what is going on between you and your hunk of a bodyguard?"

"Hm? What do you mean?" You feign innocence, avoiding his gaze, surprised at his observation. "Oh please." He gives you an it-is-very-obvious look. "The chemistry between you two has been explosive from day one. You always have that dreamy look in your eyes when you look at him."

"I do not!" You gasp. "Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night." He shakes his head in mirth. You huff out a dejected breath of surrender. "It doesn't matter anyway. He doesn't want me."

"Should I beat him up?" He asks casually, making you snort.

"You would lose, you know." You roll your eyes. That makes him laugh before he takes a step towards you. "I would deprive you of a hug but since you are already heartbroken, come here."

You immediately get up and wrap your arms around your brother in a tight hug. You sniff, holding back tears as he pats you in the back, and you whisper. "I will miss you. Text me every now and then."

"Will do," he promises with a smile, pulling back and squeezing your shoulder. As he starts walking, he yells over his shoulder, "Do not think of getting married to that hunk while I'm not here though!"

"Yes, sir!" Rolling your eyes, you yell back and watch him walk out the double doors before plopping back on the couch, an eerie feeling of emptiness settling in your chest.

It takes a while for you to realise that tears are streaming down your face. Upon realisation, you simply hang your head low, letting them flow and stare at the floor, vision blurry as you play back the events of the last 6 months in your head.

A soft knock at the door makes you snap your head up, breaking your trance as you quickly swipe your fingers below your eyes, head turning to see who enters.

It's Seungcheol, composed in poise and grace as he steps inside before coming to a stand beside you. Silently, he asks for permission to sit, something you have told him multiple times not to do and when you give him a nod he takes a seat opposite to you. "You have been crying," he states quietly as he regards you with a knotted brow. You sigh and blink a couple of times before asking. "I'm fine now. What's the update? Any problems?"

He shakes his head. "Things are under good so far. You still need to give a formal statement at the fundraisers event next week, so you have to prepare for that."

"Hmm," you nod. "What brings you here, then? Are you feeling okay? I told you to take a day..." Your voice fades as you watch him produce a white rectangular envelope from his pocket and push it towards you on the table.

You have a sinking feeling in your chest that it is a resignation letter.

"I am submitting my letter of resignation." He says, as calmly as ever, his eyes straight on yours. Your mouth opens but fails to deliver the words as you tilt your head to the side, processing this action.

You have no problem with him resigning. In fact, you had planned to fire him after this hellish week ends so that you two could have a discussion about where your relationship stands, without all these professional restrictions limiting you. However, knowing Seungcheol, you have a sinking suspicion that he isn't quitting so that he can address his feelings for you but so that he can escape.

Still, you decide to feign ignorance.

"Good. I was planning on firing you anyway. Not that you were bad at your job, you were the best but you need to rest, Seungcheol. And I have Jihoon now so I'll be fine." You nod as you pretend to go through his letter but inside, your hearts thuds so loudly you are afraid it will burst.

"As of today, I am relieving you of your duties, Choi Seungcheol." You offer him a shaky smile. Seungcheol nods, his face as impassive as ever and you just cannot tell if he is heartbroken or relieved. His body language tells you that he is ready to get up and leave but you do not let that happen so easily.

"Now we can finally talk about our relationship." You speak, trying to keep your voice as stable as possible. Seungcheol visibly tenses as his face loses some of its colour and immediately you know this is not going to end well.

But you are adamant on seeing this through.

"There is nothing to talk about." His voice is quiet, almost inaudible as he sits there looking like a petulant child lying to his parents. You have to take a deep breath to compose yourself.

"You can do many things, Seungcheol but you cannot lie to me." You keep your voice as gentle as you can.

Your ex bodyguard seems to agree as he lets out a dejected sigh and stares at the floor very attentively. You watch him with intent for a few long moments, giving him time but ultimately when he remains as stubborn and unmoving as a mule, you break the silence.

"I will lay all my cards on the table, Seungcheol, since you can't seem to do that. I have feelings for you, Seungcheol. Feelings that are very, very deep and real and I'm willing to act on them. Do what is necessary to make this work— make us work."

He is quick to disagree. "Those feelings that you talk about, they are not love, ____. It is temporary. The last few weeks have been intense and it's just your body's natural reaction —"

"Do you love me, Choi Seungcheol?" You interrupt him, looking him straight in the eye. The man looks like he swallowed a sock and you would feel bad for him, maybe even laugh at his reaction if the situation was not so dire.

"It does not matter." He looks away. You have the urge to hurl something at his head; the lamp next to you seems very tempting, but you fight it by clenching your fists a few times, trying to put yourself in his shoes.

"Seungcheol, I heard you that day in the cabin. I hear you now and I completely understand your fears. But I am here and we will work through them. It will take time but I'm ready, no matter how long it takes. I just want you, Seungcheol, and it kills me because I know you want me too yet you keep punishing yourself."

By now you have learned to read the man well and what might be easily overlooked by others comes into your notice; like how he clenches his fists and how his Adams apple bobs as he heavily swallows. The look in his eyes is that of a pure battle, one that he is fighting against himself and it's hard to watch. You are about to stand up and hold his hand when he suddenly moves onto his feet, his posture rigid as he glares down at you.

"I do not want you. What happened at the cabin was a mere moment of weakness. And you don't want me either, ______. You will soon realize it."

This gaslighting asshole!

"So you are going to lie to yourself till the very end?" You hiss, standing up and stepping closer to him, meeting his eyes with an equal glare. "If anyone is lying to themselves here, it is you." He spits. "Our relationship was supposed to be professional from the start. I am a bodyguard and you are merely one of my protectees. Let us end it that way." He takes a step back while you watch him with a flabbergasted expression at his audacity. He uses your moment of weakness to say. "It was nice working with you. Hopefully, you won't need me again. Goodbye, Ms. Lee." The next moment he is pushing past you as his footsteps echo on the cold marble floor, the sound similar to that of your heart as it cracks.

"If you walk away now, I will never forgive you, Seungcheol!" You yell, voice cracking as tears gather in your eyes, your gaze focused outside the window, your back facing him. No reaction comes from behind you except for the footsteps which come to a halt.

"Do you really want to end it like this?" Your whisper is followed by silence but through the eerie quietness in the room, you know the words reach him well.

His reply comes a few seconds later, in the form of footsteps that echo farther and farther away from you followed by the sound of the door opening and then closing and then utter silence. —

The fundraiser's event is going in full swing, bustling with people when you arrive. Draped in a red silk dress and diamond jewellery you look like a million bucks but in reality you feel nothing like that and you have no desire to be here whatsoever. But you know it is necessary to make an appearance as the host because it is extremely important to show up after the scandal to assure everyone that things are going well. Except they are not. While your professional life has slowly started getting back to its normal place your personal life has plummeted because all that you have done in the past week is mope around and curse your ex bodyguard and bitch about him to your current one, Jihoon.

The best way you can describe Jihoon is a grumpy cat. He talks very little but whenever he does, he's always huffing and complaining. But you see his softer side peek through from the little acts he does for you like making sure you eat your meals properly, checking up on you after your crying session and preparing all your documents and briefing you every morning. His tsundere antics and his silent company have probably been the only driving force that has kept you sane after Seungcheol dumped you.

The event is taking place in a banquet hall in the city centre and once inside, Jihoon guides you to a private resting room where you get ready for the opening speech. "I don't think I will stay till dinner. It is okay I leave after the speech, no?" You ask Jihoon as you finish revising the script. "Maybe mingle with people a little bit. Behave like a human instead of a broken hearted ghost" he offers, his tone dry as usual. You sigh and shake your head at his reply as you smooth your dress and step forward, waiting for the emcee to call you on stage.

Once on stage, you stand behind the podium, the tireless flashes from the cameras giving you a headache and you have to try your very best to plaster a smile on your face as you greet the guests and start your speech. Jihoon stands a few feet away from you on the stage, his eyes scanning the crowd carefully as he receives constant updates in his Bluetooth. However, not even two minutes into your speech, a man causes commotion as he tries to get on the stage, yelling some nonsense about how you are a fraud and a money launderer. You are baffled as you watch the security planted at the perimeter of the stage get a hold of him and drag him out while whispers and murmurs echo among the guests.

"He looks drunk," Jihoon says as he steps close to you to make sure you are alright. "Ignore him. He shouldn't have been allowed inside. I will have a talk with—" He pauses midway in his sentence as his eyes focus on something behind you, on the other side of the stage, his pupils widening. You can barely process the change in his expression before he tugs you away and shields you with his body as you two roll off the stage.

The next moment, an explosion echoes through the air. There is a ringing in your ears as Jihoon covers you, the echoes of the blast intensifying the headache you already had. You feel disoriented as Jihoon helps you to stand up and ushers you towards the resting room backstage while you hear screams echoing from the guests, their heavy footsteps scattering all over. "Wha- what is going on?" You cry, confused as Jihoon shoves you inside the room. "It is your cousin, Jun." What!

"Lock the door. His men have blocked the exits. I need to clear them before I come get you. Do not open this door, is that clear?" He orders you and before you can form a reply, he is gone. Confused, scared and exhausted, you fall onto the ground, head in your hands as you fail to wrap your head around the situation. Of course, you knew your cousin was sour after his father's arrest but you never thought he would go this far. What is he thinking? What does he want?

You hear commotion spread outside, things crashing and even a few gunshots. As you step closer to the door to get a better listen there is a loud bang, as if someone is trying to break in.

Absolutely terrified, you step back, frantic eyes looking around the small space for a weapon.

If you knew the night would end up like this you would have brought a fucking gun with you.

Speaking of guns, a gunshot echoes through the air, making you duck your head as you scream. Another gunshot rings through the air and you realise whoever is on the other side is trying to come inside.

You can only pray it is not your fucking cousin, who is a maniac, apparently.

A broad, mean looking thug bursts through the door just as it opens and when his eyes land on you, he points his gun at your head. "Do not think of doing anything smart, woman. If you don't want me to blow your face off, you do as I fucking tell you to." Swallowing, you nod, holding your hands up in surrender.

So this is how it goes down, huh.

The man produces a handcuff from his pocket and tosses it towards you. "Put it on your hands! Now!" With shaky hands, you pick it up and just as you are about to fasten it around one of your wrists, there is a gunshot. You are sure you have been shot as you shut your eyes tight but start to think otherwise when seconds pass and you still feel your heartbeat.

Peeking open one eye you see the thug slumped over on the floor, a clean bullet hole on the back of his head. And in the doorframe, stands Seungcheol, a gun in his hand.

Choi Seungcheol.

Wait, what? How?

Your brain is struggling to catch up as you blink again and again to make sure of his presence. Indeed, he stands there, dressed in a black suit and tie, specks of red on his white shirt as he pants heavily.

What on god's green earth—

"Come on, you need to get out!" He yells, stepping inside the room, reaching for your hand and dragging you outside with him. You cannot get a word out as you let him lead you, absolutely thunderstruck because of his sudden presence.

What the fuck is he doing here? How did he even know what was going on?

You are so baffled that you cannot speak these thoughts out, simply following him as he carefully guides you towards the exit, his gun drawn in alertness. Just as the backyard of the venue comes into view and Seungcheol is about to usher you outside, you hear a voice yelling from the other side of the hall.

It is your cousin's voice. "Let me go you fucking assholes! I am gonna blow that bitch myself! I am gonna tear her up into fucking pieces! How dare she take what is mine! That's slut! I am gonna…"

Seungcheol almost pushes you to move as you get stuck in a trance of his mean words. "It is okay, Jihoon has him. Come on."

As if you are functioning on autopilot, you let him guide you outside into the open field and underneath a small sitting area where fresh air finally hits you, letting you breathe in a lungful. Seungcheol informs the other security about the update over his comms as you watch him in silence. When he is done, his eyes finally meet yours and in an instant everything that had gone down in the last month flashes through your head, giving you goosebumps.

There is a moment of silence as you watch him with a blank expression while he looks around uncomfortably. Finally, he decides to break the silence with a chuckle. "I leave you for a few days and this is what happens?"

His tone is full of amusement. The nerve of this man. You, however, find none of this amusing. It gets your blood boiling as you hear him say the words, your brain finally registering everything and you simply cannot hold yourself back anymore. The next thing you do is strike a clean, sharp slap on his cheek which catches him off guard as he stumbles a few steps back. His eyes widen in shock, his hand moving to cup the cheek which is turning bright red, like your palm.

You poured your heart and soul and all your pent up emotions into that slap so you pray it stings like a bitch.

Your hand does for sure.

"I deserved that-" Seungcheol starts to speak, holding up his hands but the moment he opens his mouth you are on him again as you grab him by the collars, triggered, "How dare you come here, you scum!" You hiss, tugging at the fabric of his collars while a bewildered Seungcheol tries to gently pry you off of him. "How dare you have the audacity to show up after everything you said?"

"_____, you are gonna hurt yourself—"

"You quit! You made it clear that you had no interest in me, Seungcheol! So what gives you the right to come here and save me, huh?" You are seething, emotions so strong you feel like choking and if you were a cartoon character, visible steam would be coming out of your ears.

"_____, please—"

"Who gave you the right to be a hero, huh? What made you come here? Tell me! Talk, you asshole!" You yell, shaking him, tugging on his collars repeatedly as a wild rage takes over you.

You are going to murder him.

"Because I am in love with you!" He yells back, making your grip falter for a second which he uses to quickly free himself, taking a few steps back as you stare wide eyed at him, panting.

When you finally get enough air in your lungs and process his words, really process them, your wry laugh echoes through the cold night air like mockery. "Fuck you, Seungcheol. I have had enough of your bullshit." You spit, pushed to your limits.

God, give me patience.

"I know," he whispers, taking a step closer while you take one back. "I understand what I have done and I do not expect you to forgive me at all. I just need you to know that I fucking love you and I am so fucking sorry. I know I am late but I am here to stay—"

"No you are not," You snap. "Get the hell away from me before I take a gun and fucking shoot you."

"If that's what will make you happy..." Seungcheol calmly reaches for his gun as you watch him, alarmed. He takes it off of the holster and holds it out towards you. "Shoot me as many times as you want. I deserve it.

This fucking man—

"Guys, can we do this weird foreplay somewhere else," Jihoon yells from behind you as you spin to see him jogging towards you two. "You need to get out of here, _____. He's saying that there are still explosives in this compound."

"What!" You shriek but before you can get another word out, Seungcheol is grabbing your hand and dragging you with him as he starts sprinting. "Keep me updated," he addresses Jihoon who nods, talking into the comm to get a car at the rear entrance for you.

"Let go, you asshole!" You hiss, trying to pry his fingers off your wrist which proves to be a challenge while running full speed in high heels. "God damn it, Seungcheol, I will fall!" And you almost do so, as you misstep and stumble but the man is quick to catch you and before you can even think, he is throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "Put me down, you pig!"

"As soon as we get to the car, angel."

Which is quick, thankfully, because the next moment he is putting you down and holding the passenger side door open for you and despite wanting to resist him, you know the wise idea is to leave right now. As soon as you are inside the car, he shuts the door before running to the other side and before you can even put your seatbelt on, the car is moving.

"Jihoon will be fine, right?" You ask half mindedly as you turn your head back to look at the venue which gets smaller every passing second. "He will be fine," Seungcheol grunts. "The police have been informed as well as the bomb disposal team." "What about my cousin?" Seungcheol remains quiet for a moment, only staring ahead on the road. "Him? He's alive, unfortunately."

"What do you mean?" You ask warily.

"I shot him. The bullet hit his abdomen. He won't die, don't worry. That depraved asshole doesn't deserve that mercy." You sigh, rubbing your temples as you lean back into your seat. "What the hell was he thinking?"

"He wanted to hurt you, humiliate you, _____. He had plans to hurt you horribly." Seungcheol huffs out a breath, shaking his head and clenching his jaw. "He has gone insane." That is all he provides, making you fall silent for a moment. "When will this stop." You whisper to yourself. "I never considered him to be a threat."

"I should have. You locked up his father and made sure he could never take over the company. He was a huge threat that I failed to notice." He murmurs.

"Don't start, Seungcheol," you snap at him, irritated. "I'm still tempted to shoot you. Your duty was over the moment you handed in the resignation letter and walked out of my life."

"My biggest mistake." He whispers to himself but you hear it.

Tired, frustrated, scared and angry, you decide not to engage in this conversation further as you look out the window and wonder what is coming next. Another media storm for sure. More interrogations, more meetings with your lawyer. At the same time, however, the edge that you have been feeling for the last week is gone. The fact that your cousin never came up to you or tried to retaliate his father's arrest in any way made you wonder but it never occurred to you that he could turn violent, insane.

Jun was after all a puppet, who only did things after his father made the way for him his whole life.

Today was a different case, it looks like. Anyhow, it is somewhat of a win for you because you miraculously got out unscathed and the threat has been neutralised. However, you are sure many have been injured and your reputation has taken a severe hit today. The upcoming months will be very hard, harder than before…

The next coherent thought that comes upon you is that you fell asleep. You open your eyes realising that the car has stopped and the time on the dashboard says about thirty minutes have passed. Blinking, you shift in your seat and find Seungcheol, sitting next to you, watching you with a look that is foreign on his face, something close to adoration. Clearing your throat, you remove your seatbelt and sit up straight.

"How long was I asleep?"

"Not long enough. We just got here." He announces as he moves to open his door. "Come on, let's go inside."

Once you are out of the car, you realise Seungcheol has taken you to a five star hotel and seeing the confusion on your face, he explains. "It's safer here. Can't take any more risks tonight."

He casually slips his hand into yours, making you frown and drags you towards the hotel. Your tired body cannot put up much of a fight so you follow him begrudgingly and you are quickly escorted to the penthouse suite thanks to his prior booking.

Upon entering the suite you walk straight to the master bedroom where the king sized bed calls for your tired self as you sit down and take off your heels, throwing them away on the carpet over the floor with a soft thud, exhaling a loud sigh. Seungcheol follows you and remains quiet as you sit in silence at the edge of the bed, too wired, too disoriented to do anything. Normally, after everything that happened with your uncle your decision making skills have significantly sharpened but having Seungcheol near you, his stupid confession ringing in your head is fucking with your brain. And as if that goddamn man can read your mind, he kneels in front of you on the floor, one of his hands softly touching your knees as he utters. "You need to rest, ______. I will handle everything else. It is all under control now, trust me."

"Why do you do this?" You croak, pushed to the limits of exhaustion, your eyes trained somewhere in an unfocused gaze as you fidget with your hands. "Why do you push me away and then come back running at a time like this?"

He is silent for a long time while you fight to keep your tears at bay.

You will not cry in front of him.

"I am sorry." He only whispers, his fingers softly stroking your knee as his head lowers and his gaze falls down on the floor. "I was foolish and...scared. That night after we slept together you…you said out loud you loved me and I panicked. I was— I am a danger to you. But being away from you for a week was a pain unlike anything else. I went back to that cabin and I slept in your bed and the sheets had the faintest of your smell. Weirdly, your scent and everything you left behind soothed me and I didn't have any nightmares in the past week. But every morning I woke up and there was a sinking feeling in my stomach that only grew each day until I couldn't bear it. I realised that you really were an angel who saved me, brought lightness back into my life, and gave me a new purpose, a new dream. I realised what an idiot I was and I came to the city on Wednesday night. Believe me when I tell you that my intention was to just stay away and make sure you are okay. I knew what I had done and I was in no way worthy of showing up in front of you but I had to intervene tonight, _____. Your life was in danger."

The air conditioner in your room suddenly feels chillier as goosebumps prickle your skin, making you shiver. Seungcheol takes notice of it and stands up quickly to take off his jacket before draping it over your shoulders. He stands in front of you in silence, fingers hovering over your now covered shoulders while you stare at his shoes, your head going blank but also running a mile a minute. The frustration and overwhelmingness bleed together until you can't tell one emotion separate from another.

All of a sudden, Seungcheol's thumbs caress your cheeks while the rest of his fingers softly cup your jaw and it is only then that you realise you have been silently crying. He oh so gently wipes your cheek dry while uttering, "Please don't cry. I know I hurt you. I promise I will leave as soon as I make sure you are going to be okay." Instantly, a part inside your brain is flooded with panic as it screams no. You don't want him to leave when you remember how hard the past week was on you and how many times a day you would revisit that night in the cabin, the moment you two shared and how it proved to be the anchor for you throughout everything that happened after.

You were— are mad at him but you still want him near, crazy is it not?

You keep thinking of how safe you felt the moment Seungcheol found you in tonight's chaos, how just his presence made you fall asleep so easily when for the last week you could not fall asleep without the fear of nightmares.

Yes, they have returned. But you don't see the accident anymore, you see your uncle chasing you around the cabin while you call for Seungcheol but he doesn't come, no matter how much you beg.

And after tonight, you wonder what more nightmares await you. So when you utter the one, very powerful word, you tell yourself that you are doing this for yourself, to be selfish and not for him, which is not a lie entirely.

"No."

Your left hand reaches to grab the fabric of his shirt and you fist it tightly in your hand. "Don't leave." You don't dare to look at him, scared you will break once you do and instead focus your gaze on the patterns of the carpet while holding onto his shirt. The next moment Seungcheol is sitting next to you and in the moment after he gently wraps his arms around you, your head falling perfectly against his shoulder while your arms snake around his waist after a moment's hesitation.

His warm touch soothes your back as his other hand cups the back of your head, softly stroking it with his thumb. A small whimper comes from your mouth as quiet sobs escape from you and you hide your face and weep, trying to stifle the sounds.

"I am so sorry, _____. I am sorry for everything." Seungcheol whispers, voice thick with emotion. "I will make everything better, I promise. I will stay as long as you need me and then… " There is a moment of heavy pause. "When you don't, I will follow you around like a lost puppy for the rest of my life." Thinking about the rest of your life and not having Seungcheol in it makes you sob harder and if you had energy you would scream at him and tell him to just shut up. Instead, you cry, cry your heart out, promising yourself that from tomorrow you won't.

Tomorrow another battle begins.

As the night grows deeper, Seungcheol holds you tighter and your sobs gradually fade and before you know it you fall asleep on his shoulder. Seungcheol stays still for a while longer to make sure you don't wake up before gently picking up your sleeping form and setting you down on the bed, fixing the pillow underneath your head and covering you with a blanket. Despite his desire to crawl into bed and sleep next to you, he resists it and instead takes the loveseat in front of the window, where he sits and watches your peacefully sleeping form, before falling asleep himself with a heart full of gratitude.

— You watch the steam from the mug evaporate into the air before taking a small sip. The tea is slightly bitter and hot, just as you need it.

After waking up and taking a quick shower, here you sit, by the window of your penthouse suite, sipping tea, treating yourself to a quiet peaceful moment before your hectic day, which you are frankly not prepared for, begins.

You woke up to an empty suite, with no sign of Seungcheol and it almost made you wonder if last night was an entire elaborate dream. But then you found his tie lying on the loveseat which acted as a reassurance of his presence, weirdly bringing solace to you.

After waking up, you realised your phone's battery is dead, which became another source of peace for you, because you know otherwise, it would have been blowing up with calls and you wouldn't have gotten the good night's sleep that you got.

There's a sudden sound of the door opening that alerts you, making you crane your neck to see the visitor. Seungcheol walks in, dressed completely differently from last night, looking delicious in a light blue polo and white pants. On his hands are two shopping bags and behind him is a hotel staff member who pushes in a huge breakfast trolley. "Good morning, _____." Seungcheol meets your eye as he sets down the shopping bags on the edge of the bed and thanks the staff as he takes his leave. You watch Seungcheol take off the lids covering the food while speaking, "Breakfast is here. I have asked for a bit of everything you like. And I have got new clothes and some necessities for you. They are in the bag," He points to the general direction as he starts stacking pancakes on a plate for you. You are quite surprised and flattered and you cannot come up with anything else to say but, "Thank you."

For some weird reason, you feel shy and awkward around him as if you are a newborn fawn. Maybe it is because none of you are addressing the elephant in the room; last night's conversation and instead acting like you have known each other for years. "It's my pleasure," he smiles at you, a genuine smile that shows his dimples and makes your heart gallop like a horse. Handing you the plate, he takes a comfortable seat in the chair in front of you and watches you dig in, a look you can only describe as fondness sitting on his face. Feeling shy, you cover your mouth as you chew. "Stop looking at me."

"You look a bit tired. Did you not sleep well?" He asks suddenly. "I had a good sleep, thank you." You inform, surprised how he noticed. You have been feeling a little sick after you woke up despite having a very good night's rest. A headache has been creeping up on your temples but you are trying hard to ignore it because this is not the time to get sick.

You have a long day ahead of you.

Making you jerk, Seungcheol places his palm on your forehead out of the blue as he checks your temperature and an unpleasant look settles on his face. "You are getting a fever." "No, I'm not." You direct your focus on cutting your pancakes, using too much pressure. Ignoring you, the man dials a number on his phone and asks for some cold medicine to be brought to the hotel room to whoever is on the other side. "I just told you, I am fine." You frown, annoyed. He hangs up and stares at you as if you are speaking a different language. "You are not. You need to take the medicine and get some rest."

"Now is not the time for me to sleep! Do not play doctor!" You snap, setting the plate down with a loud bang as you clutch the fork and knife tightly in your hand. Seungcheol does not react to your outburst but simply changes position as he comes to sit next to you.

"Your cousin is in custody. I talked with your lawyer this morning, he is preparing everything well. There is no way he is getting off. Jihoon and his men already testified to the police so you do not have to meet with them unless you want to add something. If you do, I will arrange a phone call with the station. The legal department is working on a statement and it will be released today in a press conference. The CFO will read it out." He informs, casually.

"You are sick, _____. And it's okay .You went through a lot. It is okay if you take a break today. No one is asking you to go out there and face the demons. You need to rest. Your body is asking for it."

His voice softens as one of his hands comes to rest on your thigh gently. The assurance in his voice paired with the tenderness in his eyes makes you swallow a lump in your throat and blink back tears. "Still..."

"Finish your breakfast." He says as he reaches for the plate while taking the fork and knife out of your hand and cutting it into bite sized pieces. "And you should probably call your brother today, by the way. The news of last night's events will reach him sooner or later and I think it would be best if he heard it from you."

You nod, feeling sad. Chan just left for a vacation one week ago. When he hears about this, he will definitely catch the next flight home.

"If you do not want to call him, I can do it for you." Seungcheol offers as he finishes his task and hands the plate and cutlery back to you.

"No, I will do it." You murmur and silently go back to eating. Seungcheol watches you in silence for the rest of the meal and after you are done, the staff returns to clean up and drops your medicines. You take them and then sit in your bed idly, watching the city skyline through your window, trying not to overthink anything. You can hear Seungcheol talk over the phone in the other room before he steps back into the master bedroom to check up on you.

"If you feel too sick, let me know. I will take you to the hospital."

You softly nod and turn your head to look at him. He appears worried, his eyes glazed with concern, his brows forming a knot as if he's trying to read you. After a moment, you silently motion him to come sit by you on the bed which he diligently follows.

His hands reach out to hold yours, his thumb gently stroking your skin as he gazes into your eyes, leaning closer to you, his eyes searching for something in yours. His bangs fall forward, cupping his temples and you itch to brush them away. "Tell me what you are thinking." He whispers.

"You have pretty hair." You reply honestly and he chuckles, shaking his head before his face becomes serious. "I missed you." His voice is low, almost inaudible as his gaze falls down to your linked hands, as if he is ashamed to meet your eyes when saying that. "I missed you too." You reply honestly, once again. Seungcheol seems surprised to hear that and you cannot help but roll your eyes.

"Oh please, Choi Seungcheol. Don't act like you had no idea." Your head rests against the headboard as you make yourself comfortable and scowl at him. "You knew very well how much effect you had on me and you knew damn well how much I loved you."

"Loved me?"

"Okay, love you—"

"Wait, no— you...love me? Really? You didn't say it that night in the heat of the moment?" You only realise then how you just casually spat it out, again, and immediately, heat blooms on your face. You avoid his gaze, snatching your hands from his grip while he looks absolutely stunned.

"Whatever." You mutter, scooting down on the bed, reaching to grab the sheets and hide yourself in them but Seungcheol stops you as he cages you between his arms, his face hovering dangerously close to yours, his perfume and aftershave blending into an addictive scent that makes your brain hazy with need.

Control yourself, woman! "Answer me. You love me?" "Ugh, you heard me the first time," you groan, trying to twist away from him but he stops you by cupping your chin and making you face him.

"Wanna know something?" He whispers, inching his face closer.

"What?" You are breathless.

"I love you too, ____." He replies, his lips ghosting over yours. You anticipate a kiss but he doesn't, instead tucks your hair behind your ear as he whispers in your ear. "I am so deeply, madly in love with you it is embarrassing."

The words are music to your ears and your insides swoon as you close your eyes and relish them, pressing your lips tight to prevent yourself from breaking into a maniacal grin. Seungcheol shifts his weight back and rests himself on his one palm as his other hand softly cups your face. "And I am sorry, once again, for what I did to you."

"Good but I am still mad." You try your best to appear stern.

"I know." His expression is solemn. "I plan on making it up to you until my dying breath."

When did he become so romantic?

"You may start by cuddling me," you whisper, almost shy, carefully watching his reaction. He immediately proceeds to get under the sheets with you and carefully engulfs you into his large arms, your face resting against his solid chest as his hand strokes your hair soothingly. Your arms move to snake around his waist as you feel yourself relax, his arms feeling like the safest, most comfortable place in the entire universe and you never, ever want to leave.

"I love you, Seungcheol." Your voice is muffled against his chest.

"I love you more, angel. So much more."

1 month later

The view around the cabin is just as pretty as you remember it. The setting sun of dusk casts it in a beautiful glow which you stop and stand to admire.

Beside you, Seungcheol finishes parking the jeep and unloads the overnight bags from the trunk.

"What are you looking at?" He asks when he comes to stand next to you, fishing for keys from his pocket in one hand.

"It's very beautiful." You murmur, eyes glancing over the view before settling down on the man next to you. He is dressed in a grey t-shirt, his blond hair looking as gorgeous as ever, if not more in the golden hour and you know, he is undoubtedly the epitome of beauty.

Seungcheol meets your stare with equal sincerity as he reaches to hold your hand, whispering. "Yes, it is." You know he is talking about you.

A light, gleeful laugh escapes your lips as you playfully push him with your shoulder. He grins and drags you with him inside the cabin.

It is hard to believe that this place was a crime scene about a month ago. Seungcheol did some thorough renovations and now the place looks more beautiful, cozier than ever.

As much as your heart wishes to stay in this little piece of green heaven forever, this is a small weekend getaway that Seungcheol organised and initiated by picking you up early from work today. You did not complain because the past few weeks were tough.

Getting your company back together after the fundraiser's incident and making sure you are still in the market is taking a lot of well thought plans and manpower and instructions. You have help, of course, from Chan who immediately rushed home from his vacation when he heard about Jun's attack on you. Seungcheol also has been helping you a lot, though you officially denied him the position of your bodyguard.

He then started working as a security consultant at his friend's company and has been assisting you however he could throughout the past month. He also started therapy again and so far his progress is remarkable. He is a lot less self sabotaging and he has not had a nightmare ever since you got back together, much like you. Not to mention he has been working extra hard to make it up to you, always catering to your every little need and never asking for anything in return or initiating anything, even though you have noticed multiple times how his eyes trail you around hungrily.

So far, you have only rewarded him with kisses because it was too much fun to watch him silently suffer. However, you plan to change that this weekend.

"Let's watch the sunset together," you propose as Seungcheol drops your bags in the bedroom. He agrees and you two walk back outside to the patio, hands linked where you stand and gaze at the setting sun. Seungcheol's arms wrap around you protectively from behind and his chin comes to rest on your shoulder.

"We need to get groceries." He murmurs absentmindedly as he presses a soft kiss on your neck that makes you sigh in pleasure. You hum, offering that you could just order takeout. As the sun dips beneath the horizon, Seungcheol takes occasional peeks at your face, admiring the mesmerised look in your eyes. His heart beats loudly, wild in love as he imagines the rest of his life with you and how it would be to watch you watch the sunset.

Delightful. Like the delightful secret he is hiding. A huge secret that has been burning holes in his pocket for a month. After the night of the attack, the next morning when he went to shop for your clothes at the mall, a ring caught his eye in a jewellery store and he purchased it right there, intent on putting it on your finger someday.

He has been carrying it ever since, waiting for the perfect moment to get down on one knee. Maybe this weekend will carry that moment, maybe not.

Either way, it is fine. He is not in a rush. He knows he will get down on one knee when he deems himself worthy enough of you. Though, logically it might never happen because no one is worthy of a person as beautiful, as amazing as you. But he will work very hard to be worthy of you, now and every day that he has on this planet. Seungcheol smiles to himself, agreeing that he's a very lucky bastard. "Cheol?" You call him by his nickname, breaking his train of thought. "Hm?" "I love you." You whisper. His next words are the sweetest serenade. "I love you more, angel."

A/N: If you have made it this far, congratulations and a huge thank you for taking the time to read this mammoth of a fic! I genuinely put my blood, sweat and tears into this and believe me when I tell you that my wrists hurt like hell. Still, I am glad I could share this with the world and I'm very proud of myself for successfully putting the conjectural idea from my head to the paper. It took a lot of time to come up with the idea, finalize it and stitch the pieces together so please leave a review and reblog! Your thoughts and comments really make my day. Wishing you a happy October! As a side note, I am swearing off of writing fics over 20k words. When I tell you that this app whopped my ass while posting this! My god! I was seriously considering breaking it into two parts. If you are reading this now that means I have hopefully posted it without trouble. Anyway, toodles!

#seventeen smut #scoups smut #seungcheol smut #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #choi seungcheol #scoups imagines #seventeen #seventeen x reader #svt imagines #svt scenarios

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soapybutt17 · 1 month

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The Ex and Why's

Summary: No one knows much about Simon’s life aside from what was listed on his files. The family that had died a tragic death, the trauma that came with his actions, and the rank that made him what he was today. No one had realized that behind the balaclava wearing man from Manchester was a man that once had a heart and signed divorced papers he had constantly regretted signing all those years ago.. Character: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Ex Wife!Reader. John Price. Kate Laswell. Johnny "Soap" MacTavish. Kyle "Gaz" Garrick Word Count: 9,787 Chapter Warnings: Angst with Happy Ending. Miscommunication. Mention of Minor Character Deaths. Mention of Divorce. Life threatening Injuries. Mention of Simon's tragic past and trauma. Not edited (sorry!) AN: I can now sleep in peace. If you enjoyed it why not visit my mini celebration and post your own requests I can write just like this.

Masterlist || Request are Open || 500 Followers Celebration

When you had learned about this new job, one thing you had so gotten used to doing was letting Simon know about it. But not this time, something about letting him back into your life wasn’t something you should do anymore. You were no longer married to him by your own choice and no one else’s. So you know it was time to wear your big girl pants now and stopped letting him know about it.

You no longer had any reason to give your ex-husband any updates about your life. A more selfish reason was how you just wanted to start a new life, away from him and away from anything that was related to him.

“Ms. Riley?”

You turned smiling at the man that would now be your new boss. You learned his name to be John Price, a Captain.

Being married to a man like Simon Riley once upon a time, you know some thing or two about what goes on inside of a military base. Even when he hasn’t talked much about it with you during your relationship or if he even gone as far as mention your existence to the people he had once worked with. You chalked it up to overprotectiveness and fear that they would get to you, and some night thing that he was simply embarrassed about you. Maybe it’s another reason why you had opted out of telling him about this new job of yours.

“Captain Price, it’s good to finally meet you.” You firmly shook the man’s hand. A good first impression was the best thing for you to do if it meant making sure you work for the man for the foreseeable future.

“Likewise, Laswell as spoke great things about you and I’m hoping to be able to experience it firsthand.”

You nodded with a smile. Working for Kate’s wife for nearly a few years beforehand, you had appreciated the suggestion for this new role as a secretary for the Captain ever since your divorce. She had understood you needed this change in pace in your life and this was much of a welcome change.

“I do hope it’s all good things.” You quipped right back earning a deep resonating chuckle from the older man.

“Well I think now that introductions as over and done with, let me show you to my office. I do hope you’re up for dealing with a handful of documents for me on your first day.”

“More than happy to.” You beamed following the man, his larger hand holding onto the small of your back as you began your journey into the heart of the base.

All throughout the walk, he was giving your directions to where most things were. You were warned how some men could be rowdy at time and he was more than happy to help in the off chance that any of his men would give you problems.

All you could do was smile, not wanting him to know that you were more than well equipped to punch or kick anyone that would get too handsy with you. One of the perks of having an ex-husband working for the military.

He continued on with how things go around in the base. Schedules for meal time and the curfew in the event that you would be staying in the base overnight. He had also showed you to where your new room would be located in.

“You would be a few rooms away from my own as well as the Lieutenant and Sergeants that I trust most. In the event that I’m unavailable, they will be more than willing to lend you a hand if you need it.”

You nodded before you finally arrived in his office. Opening the door for you, you were greeted with a spacious office. Even in the chaos of the military base, the man’s office was pristine, a few knick knacks and photos that littered his walls, as well as a bookshelf that housed an array of military strategies books. But the most alarming thing about his office was the other table that housed stack upon stacks of folders, papers practically spilling out from each and every single one of them.

“I may or may not have underestimated the help I truly need in this situation.” The Captain said sheepishly as you began opening the folders and gasped that most of them weren’t even ordered correctly even with the page numbers printed on them.

“I think I can manage this.” You blinked hoping you didn’t bite more than you could chew in this moment.

For the next few hours, your time was spent removing staplers upon staplers from the papers for each and every single one of the folders while you were inquiring to John the calls you would be fielding for him from now on and how he would want you to deal with it.

You had learned so much about the man in the few hours being in the same room as him. He was a man that wanted to ensure the safety of the world, even if it meant bloodying his hands up a little just to make sure of it. It showed with some of the missions reports that you may or may not have accidentally read too much into. You’ve also learned how much he hated talking to upper ranking officials if not needed, he was a man that hated authority yet he was working in the field that he was in right now from the way his comments about letting calls from upper ranks go to voice mail if possible.

“Will there be anything or anyone that I should be worried about for now?” You inquired making sure that you did not stir anyone in the wrong way if possible.

“I’m sure Laswell has told you enough to understand our work. Some men are more scarred than sane and if possible, I want you to make sure that you do not give anyone the wrong impression if possible.”

You know what he was implying and with your own experience you know far too well that getting yourself involved with another man in uniform would lead into.

“I’ve done my fair share, Captain. I don’t think that would be much of a problem with me.” You reassured him.

“Laswell told me you were divorced.” He began, huh, who would have thought the man would be the gossiping type.

“It’s been a few years,” You shrugged attention solely on rearranging the files at hand. “It took months before my ex-husband signed the papers, I wanted to think it was because he was deployed but I knew otherwise.” You muttered.

When you had made the decision to finally break things off with Simon, it was like pulling teeth with the man and his near avoidance about the discussion or where you would be sending the divorce papers. You had enough of it, leaving the home you once shared instead with everything you owned and left nothing more of you than the divorce papers alongside the wedding ring and engagement ring he had given you all those years ago.

“He was military too?”

“Something like that.” You nodded not wanting to think too much about the man. Even after everything, you still worried about you giving the man too much information in the event that he works for the opposing side if the chance may have it.

“Well his lost is my gain.” He snorts turning his attention back to the freshly arranged folders courtesy of you that were now ready for his signature. “No offense.”

“None taken, Captain.”

Eventually the man had excused himself for a meeting and had instructed you that no one would be allowed inside aside from him. He had also reminded you about lunch which you could head on out first or you could join him once his meeting was done. You’ve decided it would be best to join him for lunch for now, just to get a feeling of anyone that you would get into contact with on your first day.

With a quick goodbye, you were left on your own and you all but groaned at the folders still stacked up and yet to be touched. It truly made you wonder how the man could be so good in his job yet be so horrible with his paperwork. You will never understand.

Your eyes fixated for a moment on one of the pictures on the wall. It was your boss with three individuals. A blue eyed man with a horrible cut Mohawk but the biggest beaming smile on his face, his arm wrapped around a much younger man with darker skin but a bright eyes that twinkled with happiness for whatever was going on when the photo was taken. But amongst the camaraderie and enjoyment was a man in a skull balaclava mask that had such an empty but somehow familiar eyes, the man stuck out like a sore thumb even with the Captain’s hand resting on the taller man’s shoulder and beaming smile and a cigar between his lips. It was an odd mix of people but it was like family—it made you miss Simon for a moment before your attention got right back to the paperworks.

You can’t think of him now. Not anymore.

After the events of Las Almas, Simon Riley had truly fought the urge to call you, to tell you how much you mean the world to him and how he was now more than willing to give you the compromise you had always longed from him. But a part of him, the bigger and much darker part of him had refused, slamming his own phone onto the wall in the sheer anger of everything that had occurred in the moment. You had made your choice because of his own action and he would be cruel to take that away from you.

“Heard Cap had a new Secretary, old man’s gonna finally keep his paperworks in check now.” Soap had ruining Simon’s sulking in the cafeteria.

It’s been a grueling few days. With new recruits he was forced to deal with in the morning and nightmares that you no longer could vanish for him at night. His life was nothing more than misery personified and he has no one else to blame but himself.

“Can’t say I’m surprise. Laswell probably set it up for him.” Simon muttered being more than within earshot when he heard both Laswell and Price arguing about the man’s need for necessary help with files. It was Laswell’s decision above anything else, it’s just a matter of time if the secretary would actually last with how everything goes around here in the base.

“Still, hope we’ll have a new bonnie around. Getting sick and tired of seeing Bampots all around.”

Simon didn’t even had the energy to question the man’s slangs, his attention solely back on his cup of tea and lunch—how horrible it was compared to your cup and cooking, but he never truly appreciated it until it was gone. His tea was too bitter even with the sugar and cream he added and the food that didn’t have the special kick compared to your own cooking. Even years after the divorce he was still so miserable without you in his life.

“Steamin Jesus.”

Simon could practically hear Soap melt from where he sat in front of him, his eyes directed at whoever was behind Simon. His curiosity got the better of him and his head turned and he was welcomed with the last person he would have ever believed to be walking besides one John Price.

“Yer lookin’ a bit peely wally.” Soap pointed out breaking Simon from his trance.

“English, MacTavish.”

“You look a lil’ pale, Lt. Like you’ve seen a fucking ghost.”

Simon could have at this point. As you walked besides Price towards the table he sat in. He noticed how unaware you were even at the sight of him only for him to realize that you had never seen him with his mask on, or in anything that has to do with his line of work—until now.

“Right, I think it’s time to introduce this lovely lass.” Price cleared his throat but he should have known by now that both Simon and Soap’s attention were already on them both. “This is Y/N Riley, my new secretary.”

Simon’s brows rose at that little tidbit. You still had his last name. He understood to a degree why you did so—your family that you had long cut off from your life after what they had done to you, but after everything that had happened between the two of you he wouldn’t have expect you to choose the lesser of two evils—being his last name.

“Riley? She a sister or wife to you, Lt?” Soap’s quick remark earned him a glare from Simon before his attention was back to you, how your brows furrowed before your eyes finally widen in realization.

“Purely coincidence.” Simon muttered.

“This is Sgt. Johnny “Soap” MacTavish and Lt. Simon “Ghost” Riley.” Price introduced almost realizing at this point the similarity of the last name you both shared in this moment.

“Nice to meet you two.” You smiled, quickly to compose yourself and shaking both men’s hand.

Even with the glove Simon wore, he could still feel the all too familiar electric shock of your touch against his own. He looked at you how easy your eyes dilated at his touch. It scared him still how you had so much of an effect on him even after the years apart from each other.

As you and Price excused yourselves to get lunch, it left Simon wondering if this was the world finally punishing him for everything he has done in his cruel life. Give him the very thing he had wanted the most only to pull it away at every instance.

“Bloody fucking hell.”

It’s been two weeks since you’ve began your new job as Captain John Price’s secretary. Two weeks since you had tried and succeeded in making sure you had avoided the man known in the base as Ghost—or to you, simply known as Simon Riley, your ex-husband. Every single instance that you were both placed in the same room (mostly in Price’s office), you both acted like you didn’t know each other, it was hard knowing just how close the man was after so long of a separation from each other.

But as much of an avoidance you’ve made for the Lieutenant, the same could not be said for the two Sergeants that had been dead set in making themselves both your companion while in the base but as well as your guard dogs from the ballsy few that would dare ask you out on a date. You appreciated the effort as much as it was not needed knowing it earned a dangerous glare from your ex in the process.

“Looks like you’re right at home.”

You jerked your head up from the files you were arranging at the voice of an all too familiar woman. A smile rested on your face at the sight of one Kate Laswell, your former boss’ wife.

“Kate.” You smiled an exhausted sigh escaping your lips at the sight of the woman. Both her and her wife had been the pair that knew what you had been through since your divorce and she was one of the two people that saw behind the façade you had decided to show the world.

“How are you holding up?” She inquired.

“Doing better.” You assured her. “Just a slight problem but nothing I can’t deal with now.”

“Oh no. Is your ex-husband bothering you again? I told you to just say the name and I’ll find some dirt on him in a heartbeat.”

You chuckled, knowing how that would be close to impossible with the man’s stand and rank in the Taskforce.

“Simon Riley.” You said instead and watched the way her eyes widen upon realization.

“Why did I not put two and two together?” She snorted realizing the small misjudgment on her part. “Does John know?”

You shook your head. You didn’t know how, but in the weeks of working at the base, you had been successful enough not to let the small detail spill. It was for both of your sakes and you feared that if you told the man, you would be fired and not him, not that you would want him to choose between the two of you.

“It would be a shame if John couldn’t keep you working for him because of your past with Ghost. I’m actually able to see his files being sent to me on time for once and he’s less stress in this past week for once.”

You blushed, knowing that that was a compliment, something that was rarely spoken by one Kate Laswell in the years of working for her wife.

“I genuinely don’t want to go either.” You spoke honestly. “Even with the situation.”

“Will you keep the information to yourself for now?” She inquired. “What does Ghost think of this?”

“I haven’t talk to him since I’ve gotten here.” You spoke honestly. “And I think it would be better if don’t talk to him about it either.”

“Talk to who about?”

Both of you had jerked your head towards the owner of the voice and it was Price with your husband, Soap, and Gaz in tow. You looked panicked at Kate hoping she could help you out this predicament with the man in the very room with them.

“My wife’s been asking how she’s been holding up since the divorce and if she’s gotten around to talking to her ex.” Kate brushed off and you wanted to face palm yourself, not the answer you were hoping for her to give.

“Wait you were married?” Gaz piped in with surprise.

“Was.” You corrected, eyes glancing towards Simon for a moment before turning your attention right back to the younger man. “But it’s nothing to worry about, you know how Kate’s wife is.” You tried your best to reassure everyone.

“Well that bloke lost something good that’s for sure.” Soap quipped right back with a flirty wink. You’ve learned this was the default with the man. “Right Lt?”

Both you and Kate found yourself looking at the man and it somehow clicked to him that you both were now more than aware of the currently predicament that fell before you and without another word left the office, slamming the door behind him.

To this very day, Simon still can’t understand why he had signed those papers. Why didn’t he just talk with you and made a compromise. Instead he became an asshole that avoided any forms of communications with you until he was left with no other choice but divorce papers waiting for him at home and every single trace of you no longer in the home you two once shared.

In the deepest depths of his bedside drawer was the divorce papers that officially separated him from you, the two ring boxes that housed his wedding ring and the engagement ring he had bought for you. Around his neck, alongside his Dog tag was your wedding ring—the same wedding ring you had left on top of the coffee table of your home, with the divorce papers right under it.

It was his fears that finally came to life and he truly didn’t know why his body automatically signed without even reaching out to you first. To this day, in the years that has passed he still wonder what his life and relationship could be if he fought for your marriage.

Would he still be married to you right now? Would the two of you finally have the family you had always wanted? Maybe by now your first kid would have been three, he had always dreamed of having a daughter. A darling little girl that was a spitting image of you, a daughter he would protect with his life over and over again.

That could have been his life, but he was far too stupid for his own good. He was too much of a bastard that ruins everything good that comes into his life. He pays the price every single night he comes home to his apartment—empty and lacked the warmth that only you could ever give to someone like him.

He made his bed and he was sleeping in tears because of it.

“There he is, good you’ve got your arse here, LT.”

Another one of the mistakes he seems to be making in his life was joining the rest of the team in the pub and realizing that you have come to join them this time around.

Bloody fucking hell you were as beautiful as the first day he had ever laid eyes on you. There was the twinkle in your eyes he had once thought he had diminished as you continued on with whatever conversation you were having with Gaz with Price listening on. You had on your favorite red crepe dress that slightly showed some cleavage but not enough to be indecent, with your favorite locket that he had brought for you while you were still dating, and the first ever expensive Cartier watch you had brought for yourself (which Simon would have more than willingly bought for you if you allowed it) while saving up your checks.

Fate was nothing but a cruel sick man for giving this sight of you in front of him and never allowing him the taste he always craved. A gift that wasn’t his to accept—anymore.

“You know how traffic is, Johnny.” He muttered finding himself sitting beside the man and in the process finding himself sitting right in front of you in the process.

“Bullshit,” Soap snorted. “Stopped by a bonnie we didn’t know about?”

Simon glanced towards you, the momentary hurt that passed through your eyes before you continued on with your conversation with Gaz, now hearing you were both talking about your Uni days and how you found yourself involved with working for Laswell’s wife all those years ago.

“Don’t have the time nor the energy for another headache in my life.” He spoke realizing that it was the wrong thing to say with you in front of him. He could have said it if you were not here, but not in your presence, it diminishes every single thing he had ever had with you.

It wasn’t what he meant but he couldn’t truly take it back.

“I can second that.” You spoke finally meeting his eyes this time. An unrecognizable look in your eyes as you stared right at him. “And this is coming from someone that’s already made a mistake of ever getting married to a man in the military.”

This has opened the floodgate for everyone in the table to question you about your apparent divorce. He had no one else to blame for this than himself. He listened in now as you continued on answering questions about your relationship with him and the eventual divorce, but made sure it was vague enough not to have fingers pointed at him.

“So, you loved the man more than life itself and all that, why divorce?” Soap had asked the million dollar question.

“It’s gets tiresome to love someone that doesn’t want to help himself.” You spoke honestly. “Year of trying to understand him, only to push shoved away over and over again, it hurts and it gets tiresome. I just had to go before the love turns to hate.”

In the years since the divorce, there was never closure between the two of you. The forms of communications that you both had were mostly about him being deployed again or of you and your plans of moving around or changing careers. Never did either of you had the much needed closure that you both deserved—until now, not directed at him.

“If any of you ever attempt getting involved with a guy or girl make sure you’re serious about the relationship a hundred percent, not fifty, not seventy-five, not even fucking ninety. Because that small fraction you’re not giving them might be the very reason why everything falls apart.”

Simon finds himself blinking at the words that now escaped your lips. The downright resentment that still lingered in your tongue even after everything that had occurred between the two of you. He shouldn’t have signed those fucking divorce papers.

Marriage Counseling, they should have had marriage counselling like you had begged from him all those years ago.

He stood, excusing himself to order the next round of drinks. He doesn’t have it in him anymore to listen to your words cutting him to the very core.

One of the biggest mistake about accepting Price’s offer of going out with the rest of the team for a quick drink was forgetting your non-existing alcohol tolerance. As the drink was now swimming through your blood stream, your lips become looser and there were few moments were you had almost spilled the fact that your ex-husband just happens to be sitting in front of you in the table you shared with the rest of 141.

“You sure you’ll be alright to head home on your own?” Your boss has inquired the moment it was announced the pub was closing up for the early morning.

You nodded with a smile, but the warmth that you were certain painted your skin and the dazed eyes, you were all too sure that it would be a big mistake for you to do. Go knows how dangerous it would be for a drunk like you to head home all on your own.

“I’ll take her home.” Simon announced and before you could protest, John had nodded agreeing that it would be the best thing to do and you couldn’t protest or show even a smidge of irritation as you were given a death glare by your ex-husband.

“Thank you for letting me join you guys.” You spoke towards your boss, the giggly duo of Soap and Gaz. “I’ll text once I get home.” You promised them following Simon out of the pub.

You took a deep breath as the cool morning air sobered you up for a moment as you waited for the man with his car. Frowning when you realized the man didn’t have his car with him but rather his death machine known as his motorcycle.

“Here.” He muttered practically shoving an all too familiar helmet towards you.

Like quick work, you had put on the helmet, ensuring to adjust the strap before the man does. You were still unprepared to be in close proximity with the man but here you were.

Watching him pull down the foot peg, he turned to you waiting for you to ride him—ride his motorcycle. With a deep breath you rode behind him, the skirt riding up your legs and he was quick to pull it down for your own decency before revving the engine on.

“Hold on tight.” He ordered and your body was on autopilot as you wrapped your arms around his waist as he sped off.

You know it was the alcohol but you find yourself smelling him, the all too familiar smell of his musk and cologne—the same cologne you had given him when he told you were promoted to Lieutenant. Your head rested on his back, cheek squished against the expansion of his back, feeling the way his back tense at your touch as it had the same effect for you feeling his warmth all over again.

“Where?” He questioned you as the bike halted at the stoplight.

You slurred your words, but you did your best to tell him directions to where your apartment was. Your sober self would have slapped you at the back of the head for letting Simon know about your whereabouts, knowing it wasn’t something he needed to know anymore.

For a moment as the winds blew against your cheeks, you were brought back to the memories of your time together. How you feared his driving and his bike more than anything else in the world but every single time he made sure you were at your safest with him, always did even in this moment.

You remembered the dates you would both have at night when he was at his most sleepless. By the park, your arms wrapped around him as his head rested on your shoulders. How you had carried so much of his nightmare even when you truly knew nothing but what he would let you know which wasn’t much and would only be in the instance that you would have accidentally heard during his nightmares.

You remembered how tired you were as much as you loved him, how much he had meant the world to you in that very moment but slowly but surely it wasn’t the same anymore. You felt the resentment before the anger for everything he wasn’t willing to give you. You gave him everything thing but he could barely give you anything in return.

“We’re here.” Simon announced, pulling away from him you turned and he was right. You were back in your apartment and you didn’t realize how fast time has flown since as you were deep in your thoughts.

Hopping down the bike with the man helping you, you turned to him and your mouth moved before you could stop yourself.

“Want to head inside—for coffee at least as a thank you?”

“I think coffee and a conversation would be the best thing for the both of us to do at this point in time, Love.”

You felt your pulse quicken as everything single thing you had talked about in the pub was coming back to bite you in the ass. Simon has his ulterior motive after all for wanting to escort you back home.

All you did was nod, heading to the door with the man following closely behind. You felt your hands shaking but you had succeeded in keying the door open. Opening the door for him, you walked further inside, opening the lights and toeing off the flats you had on.

You placed your wallet and keys on the coffee table and found yourself sitting on the couch waiting for the man to follow you.

You heard Simon close the door, the sound of the lock being turned and the sound of his leather jacket had you worried for what was to come.

“I fucking take you seriously with the bloody helmet still on your head.” He pointed out as he stood right in front of you, unclasping the helmet from your head and for the first time in a long time, you saw him up close and the way the darkness of his eye bags was the most prominent about him—it had gotten so much worse than when you were still married. Was it because of you?

“Sorry.” You mumbled as you watched him place the helmet on top of the coffee table alongside most of your things.

“Where’s the kitchen?”

You pointed towards you left and the man had made himself at him. The sound of cupboard being opened and the all too familiar muttering of horrible instant coffee you always wanted was heard. You wanted to let out a giggle but the sudden fear of the reality of your decision brought back something you never thought you would ever relive.

You sigh elbows digging onto your thighs, as your slumped your face into your hands. Why did you offer to have him here? Why did you accept the offer of him taking you back home? Why did you accept Kate’s offer of working for John? Why did you decide to divorce Simon?

In your own mini-panic attack, the smell of vanilla latte had you pulling away from your hands and you saw the cup of coffee already in the table and Simon was already sitting in front of you, without the surgical mask and without the figurative mask he was wearing at the base.

“Why are you doing this to me?” He questioned.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of all the places you could work why the base?”

“It’s not like I knew you were working for Price.” You snort. “It was Kate that suggested I work there—a new environment for me after everything that happened.”

Kate had called it her own version of exposure therapy. You truly appreciated her help even after knowing your ex-husband was working there in the same vicinity as you.

“You could have left?”

You snort. Aside from everything that came with the military, the money was too good to leave—but that was not something you would want to discuss with Simon knowing his intent to still provide for you even with the ink on the divorce papers were still drying.

“Why would I? You and I have nothing between us.” You spoke, knife sharp as his own words of calling you a headache to him.

“What you said to the team is that the real reason why you filed for divorce?”

All you could do was nod.

“You could have talk to me that you weren’t happy anymore we could have made it work.”

“No you won’t, Si.” You shook your head, arms crossed against your chest, you feared the words that would be thrown between the two of you now especially at your state. “I would have made it work.”

“What do you want me to do then? What could I have done then? You say one thing but mean something else?”

“Because every single time I wanted you to open up to me, you closed yourself up even more!” You spat right at him now. “Do you know how hard it was for me to bare myself to you about the shit in my life and in my family only to be reciprocated with how your family was fucked up but not an explanation for it?”

“That’s none of your business.” His voice grows dark, it was a sensitive topic.

“Then why were we even married if it wasn’t my business?” Your voice growing louder now, exasperated by this conversation. “What was the use of our vows if you would keep the smallest things a secret from me?”

“It’s not fucking small!” He screamed right back at you and you instinctively flinched at his voice then. Why was he being so cruel to you now?

“When I married you, I accepted you for who you are, I accepted that you can’t truly tell me what your missions were about or about whatever details about your deployment were. But even just something, anything that would make me believe that I was something more than a whore you could fuck and a maid that would take care of the house and cook you fucking food would have been appreciated.”

“You were my wife, wasn’t that enough?”

“No it was not, Simon.” You spat. “You never made me feel like I was truly your wife when you shut yourself down after coming home to me. You weren’t the same man that I had accidentally spilled coffee on when we first met.”

“If you knew me for the things I’ve been through you wouldn’t look at me the same way.”

“And how would you know that?” You questioned him. “How could you think for me when you don’t even know what I would think of you after everything we’ve been through?”

“You want to know the truth?”

“Yes. Maybe that way I can finally move on from anything that has to do with you.”

You know that was the wrong thing to say as the man cracked his neck and began to talk. About his life, about the abuse he had to endure at the hands of his father. He began to talk about the new beginning of his life when his father died and everyone tried their best to recover. He told you of his mother that he loved more than anything else at that point, of his brother, of his sister-in-law, and of his young nephew Joseph.

He told you about how he was finally at peace with the trauma of his life back then before things gotten to hell and back. He told you of the man named Roba, he told you of the abuse he had to once again go through at the hands of Roba’s men, physically, mentally, and sexually. He told you why he hated confined spaced after being buried alive in a coffin with a man named Vernon, a rotten corpse that he had to use the jaw of to escape death.

He told you of the death of his family, of Marcus Washington killing his family. Killing his mother, his brother, his sister-in-law, and his nephew that didn’t deserve being involved in anything the mission was about. He told you how he had to burn the bodies of what was left of his family and his identity in the process. You learned then why he was called Ghost and what it had meant for him and his past that continued to haunt him.

You were left stunned, unable to form words about everything that has happened to your husband. But it was the fact that now everything about him made sense. All the little things about his personality of why he was the man that sat in front of you today. It all made sense and it scared you that he was right. How you truly didn’t know what to say or what to feel now that you’ve learned of his past that he tried so hard to hide from you.

“Happy?”

“Don’t be cruel, Simon.” You whispered now, the tears were slowly forming from your eyes now, you wanted to cry for him, to mourn the family that he had lost and for adding yourself into the pain he was now enduring.

“Cruel?” He laughed, no humor in his words, malice was more evident. “What’s cruel is you still using my last name and airing out our dirty laundry to the men I work with instead of talking to me first.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” You shook your head, stung by his words. He was right but you weren’t going to admit it right now. A small ounce of pride still clawing its way out of you. “And you know why I still used your last name.”

It was your family. You wanted to erase was little traces of your family remained. Even in the divorce, you always had it in mind to remain a Riley. It was better than having to be the ghost of your former self all over again.

He stood now, knowing it was all he needed to know. He walked away but somehow a lingering thought had you opening your lips all over again.

“Why didn’t you fight for me, Si? Why did you sign the papers back then if you truly didn’t want to break up?”

“Because no matter how much I loved and needed you in my life, I will always choose your happiness before my own.” He answered, opening the door and leaving.

The sound of his bike echoing as you were left to mourn the closure of your relationship with the man that had meant the world to you. With all the regret finally coming full force you were left knowing that you had broken the man more than he already was and there was no turning back from it anymore.

It’s been well over a year now since you have been hired as Captain John Price’s secretary. Things were slowly but surely getting better for you and your career. Since the day you had talked with Simon, you wouldn’t say things between the two of you were getting better but you were civil with each other. You’ve interacted with him a few times, especially when it came to paper works but nothing more was said between the two of you.

Even with Price’s rule of not getting yourself involved with anyone in the team, it was becoming a mission for both Gaz and Soap to set you up with people on the base. Doctors or medics were somehow their number one target for you, but every single time, you find yourself relenting to just one date but never pushing for something more.

After knowing the truth about your ex, you didn’t have the heart to be so cruel to him more than you already were working in the base as him. Your free time away from base were spent with hobbies you had while still being married to Simon, baking and journaling, it was relief to be able to do it now with a new light was shed to the events of your marriage failing. You’ve also come to accept the offer of Kate’s wife’s therapist. It was a big help to be able to talk to someone else about everything you’ve been through.

You’ve learned to accept that you had your own mistake in the failure of your marriage just as much as Simon did. But your therapist has also come to mention that you needed to begin your own journey of healing from the what ifs of it, and live in the aftermath as painful as it was for you now.

“That dangerous?” You found yourself fearing for the worse at the conversation you were having with your boss as he explained to you the vague details of the upcoming mission him and the rest of the Task Force had for today.

With the chaos of prepping and planning, your boss was constantly on his feet and you were following him every step away for most of it to field calls and handle most of the paperworks to be sent out to sign and shipped to the higher ups. But to know a glimpse of what was happening and how your ex-husband would be involved in all of this worried you more than you would like to admit.

“It is what it is, if it meant a safer and better world, we would do it over and over again.” He explained.

“Just be careful, I still want to keep my job and I can’t if you’re dead, Boss.” You teased.

“Laswell can still be able to deal with you if I’m gone.” He retorted right back earning a quick laugh from you.

One thing that you had gotten so used to was his humor and how you had showcased your own as time went by working for the man. You appreciated him for being one of the two best bosses you had ever had in your career.

“Shouldn’t you be preparing for the mission?” You quipped right back.

“I should.” He chuckled standing right up in his full height. “Can you go check on the boys for me while I do?”

You could have refused, but a small part of you wanted to check up on Simon. Standing up, you had made your round, first stopping by Soap’s room to check up on him and notify him about the mission. Soap being the man that he was already suggesting you another man in the base beforehand.

“How about Micah? Pretty bloke that just joined the Medic team.” He began shoving the rest of his things into his duffle bag.

“Johnny, for the last time, I’m not into those pretty type you think I’m into.” You tried to indulge him in the conversation for now knowing it would ease him from the mission.

“What is your type so me and Gaz could actually find someone for you?” He pouted.

“Tall, blonde, dark and broody and with a heavy Manchester-accent.” You indulged him with description of the only man you actually loved.

“Why the fuck are you describing Ghost?” He snorts. “You got a thing for him? I thought you swore off anyone from the military?”

“Never said it was Ghost, Johnny.” You quipped right back. You hugged him and have him wrap his arms around you right back. “Be careful for me will you, I can’t live my life here in the base knowing you or Gaz aren’t here trying to set me up with anyone and everyone in the base including the married ones.”

“Hey we didn’t know Wilson was married.” He protested as he pulled away to look at you in offense.

“At this point I’ve already had dinner with half of the base, let’s keep it to a minimum when you get back. I might show you my ex so you can have an idea of what my type is.”

“Deal.” He grinned kissing you on top of the head before leaving to head to the meeting room.

You next stop was Gaz which wasn’t much of a journey with how close his room was to Soap’s. Knocking inside, you were immediately welcomed into the arms of Gaz. Unlike Soap that had been fixated with setting you up with someone in the base, Gaz was more focused on the next get together you could go to after the mission.

“I think me and Soap could convince Price to have a weekend in his vacation house in Cornwall.”

You nodded knowing it wouldn’t take much to convince Price if it meant helping the rest of the team with de-stressing and ensuring everyone has recovered mentally from the mission. But it also meant that you would be in charge of cooking knowing you and Price were the only ones that knew how to cook and you wanted your boss to actually have time to recover himself in the process.

“As long as you help me with grocery and prepping then you got a deal.” You winked pulling away from him with a smile already excited to bake them your famous apple pie they constantly beg you to make for them since the first time making it for them.

“Deal.” He grinned kissing you on the cheeks and just like Soap, finding himself heading out with his bag already at hand.

It now meant you had one last person you needed to stop by before the mission prep. You took your time somehow rehearsing what you could probably say to the man for his upcoming mission. You had your worry and you knew this was a dangerous mission.

Knocking on his door, you heard the gruff response from the other side of the door.

“Simon?” You called and immediately heard the door being unlocked.

You were faced with him wearing his skull balaclava mask. This was the side of him that you never gotten used to see but it was a part of him that you could never truly erase from him.

“What’s wrong?” He asked you allowing you to walk inside.

“Price told me to notify you about heading out for the mission.” You explained. “And I just—I just wanted to ask you to be careful on the mission.”

“Always.” He nodded.

A moment of silence has passed between the two of you before you were reminded of your therapist’s words. There was nothing wrong if you extended an olive branch to the man after everything was out in the open.

“After the mission, I would love to have you join us in Price’s cabin in Cornwall for a quick vacation too.” You added. “I know you’re busy with whatever you need to do to distress after a mission, but I would think it would be good to you if you joined. I can opts this one out if you’re more comfortable with that.”

“I’d go.” He nodded. “But I want you to join along and I want you to make me that lovely cheesecake you always make for me after I come home from deployment.”

You smiled knowing that it was always the same, a way to a man’s heart is always through his stomach.

“Anything else you want?” You asked wanting to give in to his all too simple request.

“And I want us to at least be friends, you’re part of the team now and they care for you and it wouldn’t do anyone good for us to act like we can’t stand each other.”

You nodded, heart aching a little at what he wanted. Friends. That was all he wanted and you would gladly compromise this time for him if that was what makes him truly happy.

“Friends.” You smiled, taking a hesitant step towards him for a hug but stopped mid movement as he pulled you right into his arms. The all too familiar warmth that consumed him.

“I wished things would have been different between the two of us.” He whispered kissing the top of your head. “I’d give you the world when I couldn’t give you myself fully.”

You closed your eyes wrapping your arms around his broad back.

“I wished I was strong enough for the two of us.” You whispered the tears slowly forming your eyes. “I wished I stayed a little longer for the two of us.”

“I never stopped loving you, Love. We might not be married anymore but you will be the only woman I will ever love truly with all my life and with all my soul.”

“You too, Si.” You whispered looking up at him allowing the tears to flow freely from your eyes now. “After everything that had happened between us, I will always love you.”

It was the middle of the night when you heard the familiar ringtone of your old phone. The same phone that only Simon knew the number to. You blinked away the sleep as you pulled the phone right out of the bedside table.

An unfamiliar number took you by surprise and for a moment you wanted to not answer it thinking it might be a telemarketer—but something had pushed you to press the answer button and hear whoever was on the other line.

“Hello?” You whispered clearing your throat.

“Mrs. Riley?” The familiar voice of John had you tensing. You found yourself sitting up from the bed as he began to introduce himself and why he had called.

“What happened to Simon?” You questioned checking your bedside clock to see what time it was.

It was just past midnight, three weeks since they had left for their mission and this was the first time you had gotten any contact to any one of them.

“As of right now, we are not sure if he would make it through the night. If you want we could have you someone fetch you to see him.”

You felt your world still at the news. Just when things were finally moving into the right direction between you and Simon.

“I’ll be there as soon as possible.” You assured hanging up and changing into some sweatshirt and sweatpants.

The travel to the now familiar base was a daze to you as you drove. You weren’t much of a religious person, but your lips did not stop moving as you prayed. You prayed that your husband would be alright, you bargained that you would make things right with him if it meant he would stay.

“Don’t leave me, Simon.” You whispered over and over again until you arrived to the base.

You had ignored most of the surprise that the soldier on duty had shown at your sudden appearance—the fact that you were in just your ratty clothes was also something you chose to ignore as you made a beeline to where the infirmary was.

Huddled in front of the door was your boss, John, Soap, and Gaz. Each and every single one of them injured in their own way—mostly superficial from the bandages that plastered all over their beaten faces.

“John.” You called having three heads turning to you in question. “How is he?” You questioned as the tears begin to fall from your eyes at the reality of the situation coming to crush you. “How is my husband?”

The realization washed over all of them, of the secret you and Simon had hidden from everyone. The weight was too much as you were wrapped in the arms of the family you had found yourself becoming a part of.

“Will he be alright?” You pleaded, holding onto John’s vest. “Please tell me he will be alright.” You begged falling to your knees in front of him.

“The doctors are doing their best, Love.” John reassured kneeling in front of you, wrapping you into his arms as you continued to sob. “But Simon took most of the impact from the explosion.”

The reality scared you so much. You tried you best to remember the last interaction you had with Simon, the hug, the promise of a new beginning, and everything else in between. It all came crashing down to this very point.

There was a very big chance that you will finally lose Simon and it scared you so much more than anything in this world. You couldn’t lose him, not like this, not when there was so much left between the two of you to make up for.

“He can’t leave me, John.” You whimpered. “He promised me he wouldn’t leave me like this.” You screamed at the top of your lungs.

You were made aware of the vows you had made to each other when you got married at the court house. Of how he had promised to the best of his abilities that he wouldn’t die in the line of duty before he could have the chance to retire. He promised you a family, he promised you the world, and he promised you your happiness. He was your family, he was your world, and he was your happiness that you realize only when it was too late.

For the next few weeks, the world around you had become blur. You were now much of a permanent fixture of the Taskforce’s base. Morning and the afternoon was spent still working for Price, especially with the piling number of paperworks the mission had caused and your nights were spent in the infirmary, watching over Simon that has yet to awake from his slumber.

When the doctors had given you the green light that you can see him—it took you hours before you did. Even after John, Soap, and Gaz had finished with their own visit, it took so much of what little strength you had to finally see him in his state.

Broken bones, laceration, head trauma, blood loss and amongst the other injuries that the doctors has informed you should have killed him but he was still alive even in his current state. He still had fight in him, he was still fighting to keep alive.

“I’ve come to realize that post-mission Price was a whole different breed of a grump, more than he usually is.” You began talking to your still unconscious ex.

The doctor had told you about him being able to hear your voice and you took the opportunity to talk his ear off with him unable to give his usual sarcastic comments or grunts as response. There were days you told him about your day at work, days where you told him about what you had been doing since you left your home and tried and failed to move on from him, and there were days where you apologized to him, regretting the divorce and everything else that been the reason for the demise of your marriage.

“I think since the divorce I’ve realized a lot of shit about us.” You sighed leaning against the uncomfortable plastic chair. “If you wake up, I’ll try to do my best to convince you to take me back.” You mused arms crossed against your chest. “I know you don’t have as much of a happy memory after what happened to your family, but when you wake up, I want to make sure we make as much happy memories as we could together, I want you to tell me about what your Ma was like, what kind of brother Tommy was like, and how adorable Joseph was, I want all of that and more with you.”

You wiped away the tears that have yet to fall, you didn’t want to cry. You thought that you didn’t have any more tears to shed. The gravity of almost losing Simon was the wakeup call you needed and now it was nothing more than a waiting game until he wakes up.

“I fucking can’t be your friend, Si.” You admit. “I can’t be happy with just being your friend. I want you to be my husband again, Si. After almost losing you I know I can’t live knowing we haven’t fixed our relationship. I’ll do anything and everything to make it up to you, all the pain and hurt I’ve caused you.”

“Anything?”

You almost jumped from where you sat at the sight of the man whose eyes were now focused on you.

“Simon?”

“Am I just high or did you say what you did?”

“What?”

“That you would make up for everything?” He muttered groggily.

“I did.” You nodded blinking in disbelief that he was here, awake. Alive.

“Then marry me. Let me make it right this time, Love. I promise I’ll make it work, I’ll do my best to make you happy the way that you deserve.”

“Yes.” You answered almost immediately, finding yourself giggling about how ridiculous his second proposal was with his current state—but you didn’t want it any other way.

He requested for you to take his dog tag around his neck off and only then did you notice that your wedding ring enclosed around his necklace. Even with the years that passed, he still had it with him. The very same ring you two had brought together before you had headed to the courthouse for your marriage.

“Can I add another stipulation?” He held onto your free hand.

“Anything.” You smiled rubbing your hand against the callousness of his hand. “Anything to make it work, Si.”

“No more blind dates from the Sergeants.”

“They could never hold a candle to you, Simon.” You giggled leaning in for a kiss, the weight that rested on your shoulders slowly easing away.

You were home, you were back in the arms of Simon after all was said and done.

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bad268 · 15 days

Note

hi!! can i request a clingy paul aron x reader? kinda similar to what you wrote for kimi antonelli. maybe him being extra clingy when he finally gets home after a long day or early mornings? tysm!! i love your works

Hold Me (Paul Aron X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/F2/F3

Requested: Clearly (Thank you love <3 it's kinda short but i didn't wanna make it too close to Kimi's)

Warnings: none

POV: Second Person (You/your)

W.C. 893

Summary: After a bad weekend, Paul wants to be held by you.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

Paul never considered himself a clingy person, but even he could admit that his thoughts were borderlining it. He just could not focus all day, and all he wanted was to be as close to you as humanly possible. You had gone home for the weekend for your sibling’s graduation, and you had gotten back to your shared apartment right after he left for the race weekend.

He would say that he just missed you. Not seeing your significant other for just over a week when you’re used to walking up with them every day will make you yearn for them.

He had a long day on the track, and he just wanted to be held by you. With staring on the front row, having to retire from the sprint the day before due to a technical problem, and getting caught up in a midfield drash during the feature race, he was just done. Thankfully, he had booked his flight home for only a few hours after the race. This would give him time to attend the debrief, do some media, and dip out of there. Granted, the debrief was quick because his races were short, and the media was not nearly as extensive as it would have been if he’d finished either race.

Paul was silent as he left the track. He was silent the entire way back to the hotel, silent as he packed his bags, silent as he rode to the airport, and silent almost the entire flight home. He did not feel like engaging in small talk with people, so he did not speak until spoken to. Plus, he knew that when he landed, he would be one step closer to you. He just had to get through the painstakingly long time it took to get to you.

Your apartment was not too far from the airport, but he never wanted you to pick him up when he landed at such a late hour. He had worked it out that Ralf would pick him up, but you messaged Ralf separately because you also could not wait for Paul to get in.

You thought it would be funny to make him a “welcome home” sign to hold up in the airport, so you had been working on it during the day. It had all of his favorite colors and streamers on the bottom. You were sure it would catch his attention.

So there you were, standing in arrivals. You could have looked better, but it was nearly midnight. To be honest, you were planning on just going to sleep as soon as you both got home. You had on one of Paul’s hoodies and a pair of sweatpants, but it was comfortable. You checked the status of Paul’s plane and moved to get the sign ready when you saw that the plane landed a few minutes ago. You would be seeing him shortly.

Paul was ready to hurt someone. He was tired from the race, his eyes burned, and his head hurt. All he wanted to do was go home, crawl into bed with you, and not do anything for the foreseeable future. He grabbed his bags and made his way off of the plane. He knew his home airport like the back of his hand, so he was able to walk to arrivals with his eyes almost entirely closed. When he finally made it to arrivals, he briefly scanned the small crowd, looking for his brother, but when his eyes landed on bright colors and streamers, he chuckled to himself.

“Awe, someone’s family must have really missed them,” He thought before looking at the person holding it.

You saw his gaze on you as he closed his eyes, took a breath, and walked faster toward you. You put the sign on the ground as he set his bags down, and wrapped his arms around your shoulder, hiding his face between your neck and shoulder.

“Hi baby,” You whispered as you hugged him back and ran your fingers through his hair. “I missed you. Did you like the sign?”

“It’s cute,” He said curtly, holding you tighter against himself. You let the silence fall between you as other families reunited and left, but you two stayed still. It was clear to you that he needed this.

“Are you ready to head home?” You asked after everyone else had cleared out. You tried to pull away from Paul, even if you were still within arm's length, but as soon as you moved, he whined. “Baby, how am I supposed to get us home if you won't let me go?”

“Can you just hold me? We can call an Uber or something, but can you please just hold me?” He asked in a quiet, almost timid, tone. It was not one you were used to hearing from him, so you were immediately concerned.

“If this is about the race, don’t even worry about it,” You tried to comfort, “There will be more races. You are not defined by your race results.”

“No it’s not that,” Paul responded as he tried to bury his face as deep into your shoulder as possible. “I just really wanted to see you, and I couldn’t. The race result just made it all worse, but I have you now, and I don't plan on letting you go.”

~~~~~

#paul aron x reader #paul aron imagine #paul x reader #paul aron #formula 2 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 #formula 2 x reader #formula 2 #hitech #mercedes amg petronas #bad268 #ship268 #thing268

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unfinishedslurs · 1 year

Text

stonathan fwb (steddie)

this one is inspired by this fic by fivecenturiesverse

“Nancy and I broke up.”

“Shit,” Steve says, somehow managing to sound surprised. As if he and Nancy weren’t teetering on the verge of something throughout spring break. “That sucks, man.”

“It…was a long time coming, I think,” Jonathan admits. There’s a soft thump, like Steve clapping Jonathan’s shoulder in solidarity.

They don’t say anything else, and Eddie almost leaves to go eavesdrop somewhere else when Jonathan speaks.

“Are you…going to do anything about that?”

“About what?” Steve asks, genuine confusion in his voice.

“Nancy.”

“Oh.” Steve doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Eddie braces himself to hear the truth. That he’s going to ask her out, ask to get married, ask her to have his six little nuggets and travel across the country together. “No.”

Eddie’s brain record scratches.

“Really?” Jonathan sounds rightfully skeptical.

“Yeah, I don’t…” he lets out a nervous laugh, and Eddie can picture him raising a hand to scratch at the back of his head. “There’s…someone else, and I can’t…she’s amazing. Nancy, I mean. She’s, like, this huge person in my mind, you know? I wanted to love her so much, and I convinced myself she loved me back because it was easier than admitting I was clinging onto something that wasn’t meant to be. I kind of put my whole future on her. Figured if I could love any girl, it’d be the perfect one right in front of me.” He laughs again, hollow. “She was right, to call it bullshit. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“If it helps, I think she really did love you,” Jonathan says, sounding fake as all hell.

Steve brushes him off. “No you don’t. It’s okay, it was never really real. Not like you guys. That…that really sucks, man.”

“It’s for the best, I think.” There’s a long pause. “You said…if you could love a girl, it would be Nancy.”

“…I did say that,” Steve says warily. Eddie has a feeling he really, really shouldn’t be listening to this, but he can’t bring himself to back away.

“Do you…are you…”

“If you’re going to be an asshole, I should tell you that I’ve been working out a lot since ‘83,” Steve interrupts.

“I noticed,” Jonathan mutters.

What.

“What?”

“I…nothing,” Steve sighs.

There’s another, longer pause, filled with tension that Jonathan decides to take an emotional jackhammer to. “Do you want to fuck me?”

What the fuck.

Oh, God, he’s going to have to save Jonathan Byers from his tragically straight crush. From their mutual tragically straight crush? …their mutual tragically straight crush, who admitted to not liking girls?

Something’s not adding up.

“What the fuck, Byers?” Steve sounds angry, and Eddie prepares to jump in. “What, you think just because I’m queer I automatically want to sleep with you?”

What.

“No!” Jonathan yelps. “No, that’s not it, it’s just…we’re both queer, and stuck here for the foreseeable future, and I’ve never been with a guy but I trust you.”

There’s a stunned silence.

“You’re queer.”

Jonathan doesn’t say anything, probably dying of mortification.

“You trust me?”

“Steve,” Jonathan says gently, and Eddie nearly bites through his tongue. “Of course I do.”

“You and Nancy just broke up,” Steve says, wavering. “And I can’t…there’s someone else. I wasn’t lying about that.”

“It doesn’t have to mean anything. You can say no. I just figured I’d ask.”

“Fuck,” Steve mutters. “You realize I’m just as in the dark here as you are, right? I’ve never been with a guy either.”

“We can find out together,” Jonathan says. “Only if you want to, though.”

A heavy silence, where Eddie has to bite his tongue to keep his cool.

“Fuck it. Why the hell not?”

Then Eddie has to leave for the sake of his own sanity. Not before he hears the wet smack of a kiss, though.

Eddie might be going insane.

It’s like everywhere he looks he sees signs of Steve and Jonathan’s… development. Steve leans forward to grab something and his eyes catch on a hickey under his collar. Jonathan sits a little too gingerly one day, and Eddie’s immediately caught up in a fiery inferno of jealousy that he’s not the one sore from whatever Steve did last night. He has to leave the room.

It gets even worse when Steve comes by DND wearing a shirt that is clearly Jonathan’s.

“What are you wearing?” Dustin demands before he can. It’s probably a good thing he did, Eddie might have just started biting him to stake a claim. Which is a useless thought, because Steve isn’t his to claim at all. Steve is Jonathan’s. And stake a claim he did.

He kind of wishes he could hate Jonathan, but he can’t. The guy’s just so sweet with his brother, and it’s obvious in the way he takes care of people that he’s a good guy. The kind of guy who deserves someone like Steve. Someone would have to be a crazy, fucked-up, jealous asshole to hate him.

Eddie is all of those things. He’s also great at lying to himself. If he doesn’t admit he hates Jonathan Byers, fellow freak, for sleeping with the most unfortunately spectacular jock imaginable, he never has to confront his own failure to keep to his code. The doctrine that Steve cheerfully set on fire and then stomped the ashes into dust. All without knowing it, the asshole.

He really can’t blame Jonathan. Eddie’s well aware that he’s made up some weird, one-sided rivalry in his head over Steve’s affections. It’s not his fault that one of them got the guy, and the other got to scream into his pillow at 2am.

Sure, they both said they were hung up on other people, but how long would that really last? He’s fairly sure Steve was lying about having feelings for someone. Eddie can’t help but watch him, and he’s never once seen a sign Steve was interested in any of the other men he hung out with.

Steve colors. “It’s Jonathan’s,” he says, picking at the band tee like he’s self-conscious about it. Which is ridiculous. He obviously knows he looks good in anything. “I…uh…spilled something on mine.”

From the way he talks, Eddie has a pretty good idea what exactly got on his shirt. He takes deep breaths, and tries not to chew through the table. He wishes Steve were in his band shirt instead. He’d look great in Judas Priest merch.

He tries not to picture him in a Corroded Coffin shirt. He fails.

#stonathan fwb au #steddie #stonathan are actually doing this as friends and will remain friends #jealousy #rip eddie's sanity so sorry for doing this to u king #steve harrington #jonathan byers #eddie munson #gay steve harrington #i just think he's neat!#stranger things fanfic

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k-atsukibakugou · 6 months

Note

Hey…It’s me again how would Katsuki react if you told him “Make me” when he tells you to shut the fuck up? 👀….

w/c: 0.5k warnings: not edited at awllllll, f! reader x bakugou, a lil rough notes: hihihihi thank u for ur ask!! im so sorry it took me so long i was stuck staring at it Forever i love talking ab this stupid man i need him on a level i cannot describe

i imagine this as a sidekick and pro hero dynamic, where you’re a little younger and newer, overly excitable about everything, even early in the mornings or on the late night patrols, constantly trying to make conversation with him, i mean if you’re going to be working by his side for the foreseeable future why not try to be friendly?

it all comes to a climax after working with each other for about three weeks now, three long weeks for bakugou to try and zone you out, to give you clipped answers for you to get the hint to just shut up, three weeks of trying to palm you off to another hero at the agency, unfortunately for him, your quirk worked best alongside him.

you ignored his crass attitude, putting up with people like him was just part of the job for you, something to move past and get on with your patrol, paperwork, or interview, whatever it was you had to do when he was annoying you. and god did he annoy you, waiting until his back was turned for your face to sour, just as hellbent on remaining cheery as he was to be a pain in the ass. he was good for your career, you'd remind yourself after every patrol, after every roll of his eyes, after another snippy comment from the muscular blond. it boosted your popularity signing on with his agency, cracking the top 100 just by announcing it, only gaining popularity and publicity working alongside him. but you're cracking, every time he demands you walk behind him instead of beside, cracks deepening each time he glares at you with those red eyes that feel like they're looking through you, finally shattering one last time when he’d turn around so fast he had to grab your shoulders to stop you running into him.

it was a dark, cold, late night, nearing 4am, towards the end of your patrol, and he was sick of hearing you talk, he was too tired and there wasn’t enough energy drinks in the world to give him the energy to engage with this,“shut. the fuck. up.”

his gloved hands are still holding your shoulders tight, leaving you nowhere else to look but up into his eyes, your own blazing with a new anger at him, too exhausted to filter the words forming on your tongue, “make. me.”

you match his tone, sure your lips are curled in a snarl similar to his own, wondering if killing him right here would be worth exchanging your hero costume for a prison uniform. reaching a hand up, you yank his hand off your shoulder, storming past him, being sure to bump his shoulder with your own, hard, continuing down the alleyway, only making it a few feet before he’d catch up again, pushing you against the closest wall before you could blink.

Brick’s pressed hard to your chest, uncomfortably digging into any exposed skin, his thick arm across the top of your back to pin you in place, smirking lips beside the shell of your hear at your tiny gasp and whimper, “that’s the best idea that’s come out of your mouth.”

© all works belong to @k-atsukibakugou, @gwen0m, and dlirious on archive of our own, do not plagiarise, translate, repost or recommend my work on other platforms or translate my works, i do not give permission for my works to be bound and sold. 18+ minors and ageless blogs do not interact.

#divider by me #「juylnn」#「mercury thirsts」#「mercury answers」#「kat <3」

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sporadicthingcollection · 8 months

Text

Smash or Pass: Part 1/4 (LA!Buggy the Clown x F!Reader)

Summary: It's the last stop before the Grand Line and you slink away for a quiet evening. The universe, however, decides to clown on you. Sequel to Kiss, Marry, Kill. Pairing: LA!Buggy the Clown x F!Reader Rating: Semi-explicit. Warnings: Alcohol, death threats, implied threat of sexual assault. Word Count: ~3.1k.

Mama told me what I should know

"Too much candy's gonna rot your soul

If she loves you, let her go'

Cause love only gets you down!"

---

PART 1: In which you are threatened with a knife, a gun, and a good time.

You thought the night would be fine. You thought no one in this bar would bother you. You thought you’d have a little nightcap or three and head back to the ship. You thought you’d have one last night to spend on your own before sharing a small space with five other people for the foreseeable future.

But nothing worked out as you’d hoped.

As soon as you got comfy at a table in the corner, a horde of rough-looking sailors descended and lit up the place. Loud. Rowdy. Obnoxious.

Ugh. At least they’re not Marines. You can lay low. Sink deep in your chair and focus on your drink.

Gazing into the scrying beer glass, you let your mind wander among the swirls. Thoughts ebb and flow.

Like how you need to remember to get more sutures before you cast off. Or how heavy your fingers feel under all the jewelry. How naked your ring fingers look with no adornment. Your family would be nagging you to get married by now. They’d like Sanji.

But they wouldn’t like that stupid, stupid clown.

He’s been on your mind a lot lately. You hate it. But how could he not be? Made you an offer you had to refuse. You tell yourself it wouldn’t have worked out. Where was he last month when you were looking for an escape? You hope you never see him again.

…but if you did see him again, you wouldn’t complain. He’d probably sidle up to you and say something like—

“Well, hello, gorgeous."

Yeah, that's exactly what he would say.

Wait. That was loud. That wasn’t your thoughts. It can’t be. You turn.

Buggy the Clown grins at you. “Fancy meeting you here, Miss Sawbones."

You dive to the floor as he pulls a knife from his sleeve and throws it at you, sinking up to the handle in the wall. You clamber to your feet, put on your best snarl, and raise your fists.

All eyes are on you and Buggy as you size him up. The clink of chains and scrape of drawn swords sounds all around you. You’re not sure who your allies are, but you’re grateful for the support.

Especially because there’s just as many goons behind Buggy. He looks as surprised as you feel. His stance softens as he glances around. You could get a punch in while his guard is down—

“Hey!”

A gravelly voice splits the very air of the room. Like a child caught in the cookie jar, you freeze. You’re in big trouble.

Buggy freezes too. His shoulders hunch and his eyes go wide. He glances at you, and then to the side. You look in the same direction.

Standing behind the bar is a stout woman in an apron. A cigar dangles from her lips and she wields a wicked glare. Along with a very, very large shotgun.

She points at a big sign hung above the shelves. NO FiTiN IN DaH baR in big red letters on weathered wooden planks.

“‘No fittin’…?'” Buggy mutters.

“If you’re gonna kill each other,” the matron says, “do it outside.”

Due to a sudden lapse in self-preservation, you speak up. “He started it—“

Everyone jumps as she fires into the ceiling. “And I’m ending it. Get along or get out.”

You glance at Buggy. He glances back. You can see the whites of his eyes, even from all the way over here. Slowly, he replaces his knives back into his jacket.

You lower your fists, feeling awful sheepish.

The bar matron nods. “Back to your drinks, all of you,” she says.

You can’t help but feel a little embarrassed as the crowd disperses. You can read. You’re very literate. How’d you miss that?

“Guess we both need glasses,” Buggy says right next to your ear.

You jump and nearly swing on him again, but you pull the punch. You have no interest in being shot tonight. “What the hell are you doing here?!”

“Getting a drink, same as you. Last stop before the Grand Line.” His voice dips low and he leans in close. “And last chance I’ll likely get to cut you and your little captain’s throats.”

You scowl. “Over my dead body,” you growl.

“That’s the idea.” The matron clears her throat loudly. He flinches and pulls back, but the glare remains. “Once you leave, babe— snnckt!” He draws his finger across his throat and his head rolls off his shoulders and into his arms. You yelp and he cackles as he puts it back.

Well, now you’re in it. This wouldn’t have happened if you stayed on the ship, you dumb lush. You could have just drank with Zoro. Or shot the shit with Usopp while he shot at shit. Or let Sanji hit on you while you sharpened his knives. Literally anything would have been better than this.

But here you are. Time to get yourself out of it. Somehow.

"Well, I’m not going anywhere," you tell Buggy. You sit back down at your table. "So get comfy, clown."

He places his hat on the table and plops into the seat across from you. He snatches up the mug -- your mug -- and takes a long, long, long pull. He tips his head all the way back, throat bobbing with every swallow.

You try and fail to drag your eyes away. You like sharp throats.

When it's drained, he slams it back down on the table. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and how he doesn't smudge his makeup, you'll never know.

“Don’t mind if I do.” He kicks up his boots onto the table. “So what’re we drinkin’? Rum? Ale? Whiskey? Bet you’re a rum kinda gal.”

This is gonna be a night.

---

One bottle in. You glower at him and he smiles back, eyes twinkling in the dim light.

Second bottle. The sun is fully down. He’s started chattering about nothing and everything. Rage roils inside you.

Third bottle. The room slowly spins. He’s still talking. You might leave just so you can strangle him.

Fourth bottle. You flip him the bird. He just giggles.

Fifth bottle. You mix it up a bit and order some shots. The matron brings the glasses and leaves the bottle.

“Hey, the good shit.” Buggy pours two glasses and raises one. “Cheers.”

Something bubbles up in your chest. The urge to speak. You’re gonna say something stupid. You just know it. And you’re just lubricated enough that it slides through.

You raise your glass. “Another day, another bender. No retreat, no surrender.” You toss it back and it scorches your throat on its way down.

Your head is so full of cotton that it takes you a moment to notice the laughter. Strong. Sharp. Bellyful. Contagious. You like that laugh. You’d like to hear more of it.

And then you realize it’s coming from Buggy. He has his head tossed back and his eyes scrunched and he’s letting out the most glorious laughter you’ve ever heard.

Before you can be properly disgusted with yourself, he recovers. “I got one.” He pours another pair of shots and slides one to you. “Here’s to our wives and girlfriends. May they never meet.”

Two more shots tossed back and two more glasses slammed on the table. It’s all going right to your head and the more it does, the more you’re enjoying yourself.

“Everyone knows that one,” you say. You pour. “One drink is good, two at the most. Three I’m under the table, four I’m under the host.”

His eyebrows shoot up, lips pursed into a circle. Then he laughs again. “Workin’ blue tonight! Alright!” Two more shots poured. “It ain’t the length, it ain’t the size, it’s how often I can make it rise.”

You weren’t expecting that and you almost spit the shot out. You hack and sputter as it goes down the wrong pipe, but you recover.

Though now you’re thinking about Buggy’s dick. You should probably stop that. You wonder if it’s small and that’s why he is how he is.

“Y’alright, babe?” He takes a pull right from the bottle and spills some on his chin and shirt. He’s sauced too. Small comfort.

One more comes to mind. You reach across and snatch the bottle. “Now he lays me down to screw.” You pour one shot. “I pray this clown knows what to do.” You pour the other. “If he should cum before I end…” You raise yours. “I swear to God I’ll fuck his friend!”

He stares at you a moment, grinless, just long enough for you to worry. And then it returns with a howling cackle. He slams his glass into yours hard enough to slosh some whiskey out and you both shoot it back.

You stare at each other, giggling like hyenas. Some part of you knows this is ridiculous. You’re getting smashed with a guy who tried to kill you and your friends. Who was just ready to kill you. Who is plotting to slit your throat right when you’re not expecting it.

You just laugh harder. What’s your life come to?

You come back down to see him staring at you, head resting on his hand. "You laugh cute."

“Nuh-uh.” You take a swig from the whiskey bottle. “I laugh like a News Coo.”

“News Coos are adorable!” He snatches the bottle back and takes a pull. “We switchin’ back to rum after this one? Or do we wanna get avden— abvench— adventurous?”

A good question. "Let's go nuts."

"My kinda woman!" He slams the table to catch the matron's attention. "Bring us something strong!"

---

Bottle six is gin. Neither of you like it and you both down the whole thing. Bottle seven, you're back to ale.

On eight, you wonder if the throat-cutting threat was a ruse and he's really just going to give you alcohol poisoning.

At least it's a fun way to go.

"So there I am," Buggy says, "looking at the giant hole in the hull where the cannon once was, holding a cannonball like this--" He jumps to his feet, pops his head off, and clutches it to his chest like it weighs fifty pounds. "--when the first mate himself walks in."

Your jaw drops. "What'd you do?"

"Only thing I could do.” He pauses for dramatic effect. “Threw the cannonball at him!"

He lobs his head to you. You squeal in surprise, just barely managing to catch him before you fall out of your chair. The giggles flow from you like water from a spigot.

He grins as you look at him. "Gotcha," he says with a wink.

Maybe it's the booze. Maybe it's the surprise. Your cheeks heat up all the same. You throw the head back and clamber to your feet.

A moment of clarity hits you as you sit back down. "Why are we drinking together? You wanna kill me."

"It's not that weird. Best drinkin' buddies I ever had tried to kill me. When I tried to skip out on the tab, but... y'know." He takes a gulp from his mug. "’Sides, I like you."

"Why?"

“Barber. Cute laugh. Helluva haymaker." Another swig. “You'd do better with me than that group of losers."

"I am not joining your crew."

He watches the ale swirl in his mug, tracing the rim with his fingers. His lips purse and he glances everywhere but your face.

You try to wait for him to speak, but music catches your attention before he can reply. A lively tune, one perfect for dancing. It looks like some of the pirates pulled out instruments and are entertaining their fellows.

"Aw, I love this song," you chirp. “Luffy’s right, we gotta get us a musician already.”

A chain of dancers sails past. You wish you could hop in, but you’ve got two left feet in ill-fitting high heels when you’re sober on a good day.

Buggy watches you watch them. “Go cut a rug. I’ll watch your shit.”

You shake your head a little too hard and the universe spins. “No way. Can’t dance worth a damn.”

“I’ll give you a hand.” His left hand detaches with a little flourish. “Or two.” Off goes the other one. “Or all of me, if you want.”

“Then who’s gonna watch my shit?”

He blinks, then sits back. “Whatever. I gotta piss anyways,” he mutters. He tries to stand, only for his feet to slip out from under him. “Can I get a hand?”

“Alright, but I’m not helping you aim.” You’re less sober than he is, but you’re drunk enough to try. Hauling yourself to your feet, you offer your hand. He takes it, pulling himself upwards.

And then you see the smile on his face. In a burst of coordination, he pulls you into the throng of people.

Oooooh no. No. No no no. He whirls you around, making your head spin. You step on someone’s foot. “I. Cannot. Dance.”

“Can’t?” He lifts you up, moves you to the side, and places you down again. “Or won’t?”

“Both!”

“Bullshit. Hand here.” He plants your hand on his shoulder and places his own on your—

You slap the smile off his face. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make your point. He accepts it.

“Sorry, thought you were shorter,” he mutters. He puts his hand on your waist. Even through his glove, you can feel his warmth. “Stand on my feet.”

“I’m not a child!” You try to pull away, only to collide with a very large man and get knocked back into Buggy. You’re trapped. No way out but to dance.

You know what? Fine. You stand on his feet — making sure to stamp his toes good — and glower at him. “What’s next?”

The smile returns. “Hold on tight, sweetheart.”

You clutch him as tight as you dare. And thank God you do, because soon you’re spinning like a top.

He guides you over and under, side to side, forward and back. And you don’t trip once. Neither of you do. You don’t even feel nauseous. How is he doing this? Is he magic? Is he just that good?

You glance down. Detached from his ankles, his feet support yours as they scoot around. The rest of him glides through the air, guiding you among the other dancers.

It might as well be magic.

"Light off your feet!" you say.

Buggy's chest thrums with a chuckle. Your stomach jumps into your throat as he drops you into a dip just long enough for him to wink at you. "Ain't I clever?"

He pulls you back up and your stomach slides into your boots. The dance continues.

Whirling, twirling, ducking, weaving, bouncing, bobbing… Is this what a dolphin feels like, swirled around by ocean currents? Or a kite, floating on the breeze? Or a princess swept off her feet by a dashing scoundrel?

Somewhere in the recesses of your mind, you ponder what your life has come to. A pirate, dancing on the feet of a clown who tried to kill you and your friends. Who then stole several kisses from you and made your heart flutter and got really drunk with you and now you're a little in lo--

No. Don't say it. If you don't say it, it won't come true. Unless it's the other way around?

It is the other way around. If you say it, you'll jinx it and it won't happen. So you admit it to yourself: you're smitten with this psychotic jackass.

The laughter bubbles forth and it just won't stop. You don't want it to stop. You never want this to stop. This feeling, this dance, this fit of hysterics.

But it must, as all things do. With one final fiddle run, the music stops and everyone applauds. You would join them, but you’re too busy holding onto Buggy for dear life, catching your breath and trying to stop the room from spinning.

“Can’t dance, huh?”

He’s as breathless as you, mouth parted as he takes breaths deep enough to shake his shoulders. Sweat glistens on his face. Glows, even. A few shimmering strands of hair have slipped from his bandanna and stick to his forehead.

What little breath you’ve recovered vanishes from your lungs. Your heart flutters — no, it flaps, like a gull fighting a gust.

You wanna kiss him, but that last shred of self-restraint stops you. “Let’s go again,” you say instead.

His face lights up. “Lemme-- Lemme get rid of this.“

His forearms slip out of his coat and fly to his shoulders, catching his coat as he shrugs out of it. They zip over toward your table. Pretty slick, you admit to yourself.

And then it gets caught on a chair. The arms yank and yank, but it’s snagged good. You giggle.

“C’mon, you piece of…!” He huffs. He pecks your cheek. “Don’t go anywhere.”

He scrambles over to the snag, tripping on every table and chair along the way.

And then you realize he kissed you. Your spine goes rigid.

A tap on your shoulder knocks you out of your stun and you turn. You half-expect it to be one of his hands, but a rather large pirate is there.

“My captain fancies you,” he rumbles. He nods at a smug-looking blond with the worst come-hither face you’ve ever seen. “He would like the pleasure of your company.”

Nnnnno, you think. “Nnnnno,” you say. Buggy has freed his coat and is draining the rest of the bottle you’d abandoned. “Already spoken for.”

The man’s hand engulfs your shoulder and pulls you around. “It wasn’t a request.”

The blond snakes his arm around your trunk, his hand going to your breast. You try to pull away, but the goon’s grip is like iron.

A sharp whistle makes everyone turn. Buggy stands there, arms behind his back. His expression is neutral, but you see his clenched jaw and the bulging tendon in his neck.

“And where are you going with my leading lady?” He’s got the showman voice on. “Our number isn’t over.”

The captain smiles. “I’ll return her once we’ve had our fun,” he says.

He takes a few meandering steps towards them. “Look, gentlemen: we can play this as a tragedy or a comedy. Your choice.”

The goon straightens up. He cracks his knuckles with a chorus of pops. The captain draws a rapier. You’re not sure how well a Chop Chop man handles being stabbed.

Buggy glances between the two of them, nonplussed. “Comedy it is.”

Two disembodied hands slam a bottle over each man’s head. Shards of glass and drops of rum fly everywhere. The pirates’ grips go slack, and you jump away as they hit the floor with dull thuds.

Chaos erupts.

---

⬅⬅⬅ | To the "Curious Courtship" Masterpost | To the Mastahpost | To the Tip Jar | ➡➡➡

#buggy the clown #buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy the clown x reader #kiss marry kill #one piece x reader #one piece #one piece live action #fan fiction #one piece fanfiction #reader insert #x reader #emberly writes #smash or pass #the curious courtship of buggy the clown

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diejager · 7 months

Text

Scar

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Cw: angst, blood, infanticide, murder, threat, hostage, tell me if I missed any. wc: 4.7k (A/N): request by @ishii03

Whoever this Doc Ock was, with his darker clothes and broodier expression, was an annoyance. He was vicious in his words as he was with his attacks, his arms latching onto the walls of the building as he tried reaching for you. He was brutal but slow - at least compared to yours - his swaying arms mere seconds behind you. Swinging from side to side, webs sticking to every surface, you worked a cage around him. He was too blinded by his anger to see your trap, too blind to see thin, silk-like material that glimmered under the cool, winter air.

He wasn’t dressed for this kind of temperature, his coat too thin and his boots too short, the snow crawled up his calves and buried him in deep snow that hindered his movement. It was clear that he wasn’t from your world, or that he’d never seen this much snow with how unprepared and unfamiliar he was with your New York. It was something you weren’t going to let go of, using it to your advantage to string him up, trapping him in hundreds of webs of your making.

You skipped left and right, panting softly in your graceful dance around him. Your body twisted under his arm, leaping off the ground and into the air, every step you did was calculated, acts you planned to push him deeper into your snare. You were a spider and he, your prey, acted on instincts to catch whatever landed in your web. When he realised his predicament, it was too late, his arms were caught awkwardly, bent and twisted around silky webs that made moving around impossible unless he wanted to find himself in a worse situation. His body fared the same, his clumsy and lumbering form giving you an ease to slip beside him to lay your grounded trap, webs grasping onto his clothes.

He swore and cursed, his lips turning blue and limbs shaking from the cold. It was idiotic to think he could win against you on your own turf, he came unprepared for the weather while your suit had been built to keep you warm even on the coldest nights in a land where the ice age was more of a foreseeable future than global warming. He struggled but got himself stuck deeper, glaring at you from under his black goggles. You watched his mouth open to spit out an insult when his face paled - paler than it was, if it were possible - the crackling sound of something ripping sounded behind you.

Your sense hadn’t tingled, no warning or signs of danger so you hadn’t found the need to turn around. People dropped into the snow, and curses in both English and Spanish rang softly. It must’ve been the others, from your many speculations and hypothetical ideas, they were your counterparts in the other universes, the vast expense that made your world.

“'m guessing he’s yours?” You asked, crossing your arms, peering at them from over your shoulder.

“Yes, but it looks like you’ve got it under control!”

She had a voice that fit her character, caring and nurturing with a hint of sass that all Spiders had in some way. She looked familiar to you in a way, like a person you’d seen walking down the street with her child by the hand and her husband by her child’s other side, sounding as lively as she had that day on the warmest season of the year. Beside her was a rough-looking Spider, self-deprecating and woeful words slipping from his mouth like a waterfall, he seemed pathetically hilarious, with a hunched back and muscular build. He didn’t seem familiar at all, neither his voice nor his character, he was a completely unknown variable to your world.

Behind them were a dozen of Spiders all dressed and painted in different ways, bright colours and strong accents to their own world and culture. You liked that, the personality in their suit, something to be proud of. They all held something in their hands, some with small, metal cases and others had big, heavy-looking tech. They stood out in your bleak city, monotone greys against the vibrant reds and blues, even compared to your suit, a mix of light blue, white and black to fit your snowy world, but what stood out the most was the imposing figure leading them.

Stock with muscle on muscle, his shoulders broad and his hips slim, his limbs were round and strong, highlighted by the nano suit he wore, gleaming, red lights and a dark navy that made the red pop out even more. He moved as if he owned the place, leg strutting after the other with wide steps for his big stature. He seemed the most out of place in your grey world.

With a single motion, the woman by his side barked orders to the rest, they scurried around, setting machines on the glitched part of the buildings while the giant Spider-man marched towards Doc Ock. He raised his chin, eyes narrowed when he caught the sudden gleam of your webs, and then he saw the hundreds that branched across the walls, the intricately built trap the anomaly was caught in. Perhaps it was in admiration or curiosity, wondering how you could produce so much web. He threw something at Doc Ock’s feet, it burst open with an orange light, forming a triangular cage.

It cut your webs, the loose strings falling apart before it disintegrated into specks of sparkling dust. He stared at it, watching it fade from existence within seconds as if you were never here. He ignored the spitting scowl on Doc Ock’s face, peering down at you with a strange expression on his mask. It looked like he was going to speak, pondering over the words he would tell you.

“He’s an anomaly, I’m guessing?” You cut off any thought he had worked on, tilting your head questioningly. “I’ve had some theories and alternate universes never seemed that far-fetched.”

He huffed, crossing his arms at your blunt tone, that nonchalant way you spoke to him. He was probably used to a certain level of respect seeing that he was leading the Spiders, the need to have someone look up to you after being stared at as a leader for so many years.

“You handled it well,” the Spider-Woman jumped in, her voice ringing out like an enthusiastic voice in the strained tension between you. “This isn’t your first rodeo, is it?”

“First anomaly? Yes. First attack? No.”

She chuckled, raising a hand to you, shoulders loose and body relaxed. You shook her hand, giving her a soft grip and a nod. She called herself Spider-Woman, but her name was Jessica Drew. You gave her your surname, taking the title you were dubbed: Snow Spider. Jessica worked wonders with a man as stoic and strained as him, acting as the buffer in conversations when she saw that it was too tense, but that didn’t seem to bother the man, he shrugged and handed you something. It was a watch, the smooth surface opening up to a screen with different coordinates. It was high and advanced tech you could only dream of in your world, something enviable.

“Miguel O’Hara.”

He was curt and simple, as much as you were cold and blunt, then his mask disappeared, the small nanotechnology retracting to the neck, unveiling him. You knew that face, those high cheekbones and warm, caramel tone, his warm eyes and pouty lips. It was-

“Miguel! Please!” You pleaded with him, palms facing him and fingers splayed in an attempt to coax him to surrender. “Please let go of her!”

Your heart rapped against your ribs, the muscle beating loudly in your ear with an erratic pulse that sent your adrenaline skyrocketing. You stood by the door, blocking the path to the hall with your body. You faced him, teary and dazed over eyes staring pleadingly at your husband who had your little girl in his arms and a knife in the other.

You feared that a single step would make him act out his threat, to plunge the newly-bought knife down into your daughter’s flesh. Terror filled your every pore, filling you with existential dread and harrowing sadness. How could it have come to this? You were a loving family, a working couple with dreams, but never once had you imagined that your little girl would end up under a knife by her caring father’s hand. You had everything, a beautiful family, your dream job, a perfect relationship and powers that could save many with the right actions.

You took a step forward, small and hesitant, but Miguel screamed.

“Stop! Don’t take another step! Stay there!”

You stopped, but you had to get closer, to get into range to take the knife out of his hand and your little baby away from him. You tried reaching him through his eyes, you tried searching for the loving husband you fell in love with, you wanted to see him, but all you saw was the psychotic gleam in his eyes, that deranged monster that seeped into his mind. It was rooted so deeply that it seemed like the Miguel you knew never existed.

“We ca- can we talk this through, Miguel?” You persisted, shuffling forward slowly, hands still raised in surrender. “Can’t we?”

He growled, pushing the knife closer to Gabriella’s throat, the sharp side cutting her soft skin. You watched in horror, the drop of blood that rolled down the knife, tainting the clean metal in a sheen of red. Just a little more and you could bolt towards her, ripping Gabriella from his arms with the strength you recently got.

“Please, Miguel.”

His eyes shone with a knowing and chaotic thought as if he knew what you were doing, what you were attempting. With a sneer, he pulled the knife off and in a swift movement, slashed the throat of your precious girl. You screamed, tears falling from your eyes as you rushed to her. Blood spewed from her wound, gurgling out your name in sadness and fear. She was calling for her mom. You cradled her in your arms, hand applying pressure on the wound. It was useless, her blood slipped between your fingers, wetting them in that rich ichor that first gave her life.

You wailed and shook, staring at Gabriella while you muttered comforting words to her. She didn’t deserve this, the card that life handed her. Her life was cut too short and you were guilty of failing her.

“Oh, it’s okay, sweets. Don’t worry, mom’s here,” you hushed, ignoring the looming figure behind you. “Just close your eyes, mom’ll be there with you.”

You solemnly watched her eyes glaze over, the light in her eyes fading as she did as you told her to, closing her eyes to sleep. It’d be her last dream, her last memory, her last happy smile as you sang her to sleep. You dreamed that you were singing her to sleep in her plush bed, watching her smile and giggle under her blue blanket. You dreamed that you weren’t covered in her warm blood or that you were cradling her on the blood-soaked floor. You dreamed that your husband was holding your hand, his arms wrapped around your waist, kissing your shoulders with sweet promises rather than looming behind you with a bloodied knife.

You dreamed of so much, but none was your reality.

“You- you bastard-”

You turned abruptly, fist aimed at his face. He raised his arm at that moment and slashed down as your fist collided with him. You screamed, blinded by the splitting pain. He crumbled, limp from the hit on his ribs while you backed away, hands cupping your bleeding wound with tears.

“WHY!? HOW COULD YOU?!”

Miguel didn’t - couldn’t - understand you at all. You were blunt to a fault, words coming out with little emotions and reaction to any Spiders, even to bubbly, little Mayday who made even Miguel break his stubbornly-put stoicness. You stared stoically at Peter when he made a blunder that usually made others laugh, you were left unbothered by Lyla’s smile cracking jokes and sassy jabs, and the rambunctious group of teens and young adults were unsuccessful in pulling a reaction from you, even the slighted shrug or a slight flinch.

Another thing he couldn’t understand was the illogical need to keep your face covered at all times and the tenacity you had to always have it on. He, as well as other more serious Spiders, took almost every chance they had to take it off, the reminder that they were a hero and not another human being. You wore your mask as if it were your lifeline, the mask to hide your scars and the pain you lived, the monster you became to live this vigilante-like life for how long you’ve been working.

You pulled yourself away from any social interaction, seeking the dark corners of the base to hide away and observe. Miguel had seen your faraway stare when he walked past a corner, nearly jumping at your figure shrouded by the strange darkness of your solace. You never spoke to anyone else unless you thought it necessary, appearing with this deathly silence to spook every Spiders when you spoke up, your soft but cold voice ringing in their ears like a whisper that they almost missed.

He - with his lack of Spidey-Sense - was as often a victim to your scares as the others, his ears having strained themselves to even catch the quiet pad of your steps or the breathing that your mask hid. He chopped it up to your suit being made for stealth, the colours and highlights matching the gloomy world you came from, to hide in the shadows and pounce like the hunter you were. He could compare you to a wolf spider, ferocious and solitary, stalking and hunting your prey like the arachnid would, stalking your hunt with steady steps and catching it with fast-moving webs.

Although they all seemed like red flags to him, he couldn’t deny that your reports were impeccable, your work and missions done in record time. You might’ve been uncooperative outside of missions, but when you were thrown into the fray with another Spider, you worked in harmony, as if you and your teammate shared one mind, one idea, one wavelength. The quick reaction and synchronised attacks between you, jumping and skipping around the enemy with the same technique, wrapping them in a prison of silk and webs. Every Spider who’s worked with you had taken this strategy to heart, using it whenever they could if the time, the place and the anomaly were right and if they were able to do it without you who’d mastered it.

Miguel got curious, an itch that bothered him incessantly to find out more about you. There was little you shared with Lyla when she first brought you up to open up a file in the archives, adding yours to the rest of the thousands of Spiders that they collected information from. To create a file on your person and your universe would help Miguel understand the vastness of the Spiderverse, to push the limit of the multiverse’s limit and unearth what he had yet to find.

“Lyla.”

She popped up with bright colours, her figure glitching with vibrant pink and blues. She stood beside him, a small body floating in the air beside his head as he gave his orders, her brows lifting and lips pursing in a mix of curiosity and confusion. Hadn’t he shown his distaste and irritability for you? That little annoyance he got from your silent approach and spooking presence that kept him on his toes, or the unresponsive and unmoving mask you always wore around him, those squinted eyes and furrowed brows were the only indication that a human wore the suit.

She swiped on her pad, holographic screens appearing from her hand, each showing some sort of text and reports you wrote to him after a mission or for Lyla to answer her unending list of questions, or captioned video of your filmed conversations when Lyla was cataloguing information about you for the archive. He looked through it all, re-reading your reports, committing to memory the way you wrote and ended your sentences, and watching your consented videos.

Nothing recorded or written down was useful, all data recorded were things he found inconsequential, your skill, your talent, your strategy, your enemies, your universe number, and your measurements. Anything personal or canonical was written down, about your life before your title, of your life during it, or of you as a person, as if you portrayed yourself as a robot and not a human, to detach yourself from the world.

“And from her universe?”

“I got a few, mostly headlines and-” Lyla blew up with a bright smile, excitement bubbling in her eyes as she brought up everything she found about you, some headlines and files about you from the Avengers’ system (your name, your occupation outside of vigilantism, your address and any personal information he would need), but her smile grew placid, grim with worry in her eyes. “Miguel, I think you should look at this… it would explain why she’s so off with people.”

That caught his attention, the grim line on his usually bubbly and teasing AI had him suddenly worried. Had she found a canon event that shook your life in a way no one had expected? Had she found something disastrous involving you? His hand swiped the screens towards him, swiping through grayscale images on the front pages of newspapers and recordings of the event - of the murder. He saw his name - Miguel O’Hara - following the ground-raising words: murderer and infanticide. He read through the first headline on his alternate’s killings, dread brewed in his gut when he saw his daughter’s name and another one, a familiar name, his wife’s. She survived, but Gabriella had unfortunately passed in a gut-wrenching: her throat roughly slit from one ear to the other, leaving blood dried on her neck, face and clothes she wore that night. He, Miguel O’Hara from your world, had killed his daughter and wounded his wife before he was killed in self-defence.

He quickly pushed it away, pulling the recording to his face, wide, bloodshot eyes and trembling lips as he listened to the reporter tell the story with a shaky voice (she probably sympathised with his wife, seeing as the reporter was a mother). He listened to her drone around while the cameraman focused on the scene behind her, two body bags and a small figure hidden under a thermic blanket from the paramedics, back hunched over with puffy eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. Anger surged in his body, hands balled tightly, his lips parted-

“How dare you-”

He stood stock, flinching away with panicked eyes to see you standing behind him, listening on to the woman reporting on the crime. Your voice was raspy with silent tears and anger, your body trembling viciously as you stomped towards him. He hadn’t heard you come in, he could’ve saved himself from this confrontation if he’d remembered to lock the door, but he could’ve also saved himself from this if he remembered that he was waiting for you to report on your mission.

“You fucking- there’s a reason why I didn’t tell anyone!” You seethed, like lava boiling at the surface, threatening to melt everything in your path.

“He just-”

“Fuck off Lyla.”

She flinched at your venomous tone, gulping before she fizzled out of existence to leave you both on your own. She gave Miguel a small good luck, vanishing without a trace, her warm light leaving the room dark and gloomy.

“Tell me, Miguel,” you started, your harsh sneer visible from under your mask. “What made you want to pry? No, better yet, why do you want to pry?”

His voice stuck in his throat, his tongue too heavy in his mouth to reply. You spoke with so much hate and anger that it made him suspicious, which made him wonder why you reacted so strongly about this case involving another him, another Gabriella and another version of his dead wife. Did you have any involvement in this case? Or perhaps you knew them and felt undignified and mortified for them when his other wife couldn’t be. That might’ve explained why you had some sense of dislike for him, the simple mention of his name brought an unsatisfactory taste to your tongue. Your history with Miguel O’Hara could explain your quiet abhorrence of him.

“I don’t like being left in the dark,” was all he could muster in the face of your wrath, to quell his unease when faced with your vitriol.

“So you thought it smart to dig into my past?”

So you thought it smart to dig into my past? What did you mean by that? He figured you felt so strongly against him digging into this because of your connection to his alternate’s family because you wanted to protect the memory of the dead. If he connected the dots correctly, returning to the first files Lyla had found for him, going back to when he first skimmed over your registered file in the Avengers’ database. He had caught your name in a flurry of quick swipes and your blurry face, he’d also seen your suit in a smaller drawing with detailed remarks and data about it.

It hit him strongly, like fallen floodgates of emotions breaking through his body in waves. Your hate, your anger, your fear, your solitude and your silence spoke to him more than it ever had. How could he have ever hated you? How could he have ever been irritated and impatient with you? How could he be anything but happy and overjoyed when you were within reach, something tangible that he could touch and hold rather than watch from afar or risk the chance of crumbling your world?

He whispered your name, a low hush that lightly reached your ears. He spoke it with reverence, with love and devotion. You were the love of his life, the thing he wanted to give himself to until he withered to ash and dust. You were the light of his life that brought his little girl to his world, brightening it even more than it was. You were a second chance, to relive something he lost, to get back what he lost-

But then, he understood your fears, your terror and your apprehension of him, the alternate version of the man who you loved and the person who murdered your child. It wasn’t something he could force you into, to convince you to stop fearing, it was an instinct. Logic rang in his mind, the reason why you wore your mask as if it were your lifeline, it was, in a way. It protected you from seeing the demons that haunted your mind, it protected your softer, more caring side, it shielded the human part of you from pain and sorrow.

“Oh, corazón,” he slowly approached you, little steps so that he wouldn’t spook you.

“Stop,” you flinched back, voice shaky with something else, hesitation, anxiety or fright. “Don’t-”

You jerked back when he pulled you to his chest, body frozen in place while he locked hands behind you, warm palms holding your waist in a comforting embrace. He cradled you to him, your cheek resting on his pecks, listening to his fast-beating heart, the thud in your ear and the pulse that shook through both your bodies. His fingers drew soothing motions on your back, a grounding act that would stop you from panicking.

“Take off your mask, corazón, let me see you.”

You grumbled lowly, a guttural sound that seemed like a rejection, to decline his demand, but it was a demand. He moved on his own, fingers grasping your nape for the slip of your mask, a button that would make your mask vanish, pixels gleaming in activation as they returned to your neck. You looked older than he remembered, but so had he, ageing from the years of solitude and trauma. Your hair looked shorter, skin was still as healthy but with a tired tint to your eyes. You were the picture-perfect wife of his dreams.

He cradled your face between his palms, thumb running over the pinkish mark over your eye, the straight and strong line that ran from your brow to your cheek. It was a vicious and painful scar that tightened the skin around the scar, it pulled at your face whenever you smiled, you sneered or frowned. He cooed softly, watching you blink furiously, swallowing down whatever threatened to break through your sealed lips.

“Who did this?”

The moment your fist touched his face, the bloodied knife he held skimmed your face, the sharp edge of the silver weapon drawing a painfully long line over your eye. You hissed, hands shaking as you hesitantly touched the open wound on your face, the skin broken and bleeding onto your fingers. It burned as much as it hurt, your face cut open by the knife that ended your precious girl.

You stumbled to him, half blinded, one eye seeing clearly and the other narrowed to a small slit, but all you could see was red. Red from blood and red from rage. You pushed him down, throwing the knife as far as you could with half the strength and the pain you were suffering through.

You wanted to do so much more than straddle him and hold him down until the authorities arrived. Someone had called for you - a neighbour, she was as sweet as candy and as soft as cotton, an older lady with no one to talk to besides you, Miguel and sweet Gabriella - when you were trying to convince Miguel to let your baby go. You wanted to take the knife and stab him where he slashed Gabriella, but you still loved him. He was your husband, you couldn’t hurt the person you promised your life to, so you screamed and cried.

“WHY!? HOW COULD YOU?!”

“You,” you rasped, memories rushing to the surface, eyes teary and tongue heavy.

You pushed him away, your sudden use of strength when Miguel thought you had softened surprised him, and he stumbled back. Colours erupted behind you, a tornado of vibrant shades that led to your universe. He watched as you shrugged the watch and donned your mask before vanishing into the spiral, the portal closing behind you. All he could do was watch in despair and hurt, watching his dream slip through his fingers a third time.

Wherever he went, whenever he was, Miguel saw you in everything. He saw you in the people he met outside of work, in the civilians he saw driving cars and walking the streets with children in hand. The ways the mother held their child’s hand and kissed their cheeks, small, loving pecks that showed them just how much their mother loved them. He saw you in his coworkers, the way they trapped the anomalies in their missions, shooting webs and stringing them around the anomaly. He also saw you in the pictures he kept, the few memories he still had of you.

He saw you everything, but none were you. He swore he could taste you on his tongue, he swore he could smell you in the air, he swore he could hear you in the room, he swore he could see you in the crowd, but it was never you. He might have an inkling of you in his world, in his reality. If he wanted to see you, to touch you and to love you, he could only dream and wish, to close his eyes and incision you in his mind.

Taglist: @yas-v @elliewilliamsbae @rinieloliver

#x reader #miguel o hara #miguel spiderman #miguel ohara #atsv miguel #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderverse #miguel x you #spiderman 2099 #spiderman atsv #miguel 2099 #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara x you #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o’hara angst #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara imagine

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edensremains · 4 days

Text

consequences 2

↳summary: aftermath of consequences!

↳LALALALALALALALALALALALALALA Vox in pain

Vox only realized after three weeks that you really weren’t coming back.

He’d spent those first few days watching the city cameras for any sign of you without any luck, the last time he was able to see you being you walking away from him and out of his life for the foreseeable future. He didn’t think how permanent that might be, not that he was able to think much at all after you’d walked out on him.

He figured you’d take a few days to settle with things, get comfortable with the idea of going public, and they’d move past the entire hypnosis thing with a chat and everything would be fine. Like it always was.

Three weeks without his love.

The one that he could tell was just a pretty little lost thing when you’d first arrived in the Pride ring, having teleported to the wrong ring and found yourself wandering the streets unsure of what to do with the turn of events while your energy was depleted, back when you were fresh to it all. Stunned by their appearance, Vox had nearly tripped over his own feet trying to rush over and introduce himself. Who the fuck knew there was a new Ars Goetia in Hell? This could make a good story, his station could be the first to break the news in all of Hell! A diamond in the rough that could be cultivated by his hand for his brand, all depending on if he played his cards right.

You’d been so, so sweet to him back then. So much, in fact, he’d forgotten all about his goal of making you a sensation and instead let you talk his ear off while the two of you walked to the V tower, Vox having extended his help after hearing your story for the reason of later redeeming a favor in exchange for your temporary stay, while you regained your energy. A multitude of possibilities crossed his mind as he walked alongside his new acquaintance.

He remember how you’d fluttered around the tower at first, trying to earn your stay by fumbling with the cleaning and keeping things tidy and in order when you could spot anything that wasn’t already pristine. Usually after one of Valentino’s tantrums, you’d be quick to sweep up the shattered glass from a bottle and have the spilled wine cleaned up before the demons assigned to it could even get the mop.

He’d admit, it felt nice having almost-royalty play housekeep to you after a long day of dealing with the Vee’s stressing him the hell out the entire day with their shenanigans. You’d do what you could while waiting for him to come home like a sweet thing so the two of you could continue your chat, and you could ask him how his day went and offer some insight about what to do when Velvette was seconds away from sparking another outrage with her commentary on an Overlord that would get their underlings all up in a frenzy.

Sometimes he’d take that advice, and be baffled when it actually worked out in his favor. When the agreed week and a half was up and you were ready to go, he’d asked you to stay on impulse after a particularly successful day, thanks to you. You’d asked if he was redeeming his favor, and he’d said he wasn’t but he’d make it worth your time if you just stayed a little longer. And he did, feeding you tidbits of the rings he knew about and who ruled over what territory in this ring, which you jotted down enthusiastically. Something about a mentor, who he’d later come to despise for wrenching you out of his hands for some stupid fucking trip to a ring where you’d stay for an extended amount of time and leave him pacing and yearning like a fool head over heels. Like one of those bitches on a leash being strung along helplessly, some simp in love that he certainly wasn’t.

Back then, when the third week had passed after he asked you to stay yet again, you’d said you really must be on your way before their mentor, Lucian, began to worry. He remembers the jolt of displeasure, the rising feeling of wanting to just reach out and drag you back into his office for a little longer so you could tell him all about whatever it is you were fixated on that day once more, filling his senses with nothing but your voice. So instead, he’d decided to redeem his favor for a date.

And what a fucking time he had. By the end of it, he was sure he NEEDED to have you either in his arms or his bed by the end of the night.

Neither had happened of course, because you’d excused yourself the moment the two of you were done at dinner to fix yourself up, and he remembers the odd feeling of anxiety that you’d come back and see right through his facade, and call him out on just how eager he was to have you around him for just a moment longer than he should. Instead, you two walked home together hand in hand with your quiet giggling and his quick remarks, and he watched you go back into the guest room with a dopey smile on his face, a lingering imprint of a lipstick stain on his screen.

It was a sweet dream come true.

And now, he’d finally woken up.

It was like the night after getting shit-faced or come down from a good high, the sudden awareness that you felt like shit and probably looked like shit too. It was bad when even Val came to him about it, asking where you’d gone and why the hell his screen was going through error after error whenever you were brought up, slow pixels overtaking his expression before he could force it back down.

Dealing with Valentino and Velvette was a headache, interviews and hosting his regular shows was a fucking drag and he’d put a bullet through his wires if he had to see another surveillance screen devoid of your presence. How the fuck were you avoiding all his cameras? What the hell were you doing, either holed up somewhere like a mole or were you flying above them? Were you still even in the ring? It boggled his brain and made his circuits itch, suddenly having you withheld from his reach after your time together. Did two years not mean shit anymore?

Being outed publicly to being with two notorious Overlords couldn’t be that bad, could it? There’s enough attention that comes with being an Ars Goetia anyways, whatever the hell was going on in high society. Whatever it is, his partner was off the fucking map and he was losing his shit.

What the fuck are you even supposed to do first? He’d done everything he could, reached out to every unfortunate soul under contract, had eyes and ears everywhere for even a sighting of an owl-like demon, but nothing ever came up. The facial recognition system never came up with anything when he was powered down and unable to stare at the multitude of screens for a passing glimpse of the one he’d called his for the last two years.

It only bit him in the ass now to have asked so little about their mentor. All he had was a name, absolutely nothing else. Was he an Ars Goetia as well, or hired by one to guide you? What ring was he in? What did he do when you were gone? Where did he come from, where did he stay?

In a way, he liked having you all to himself.

He realized far too late he didn’t like sharing. It grated his nerves to hear you being brought up across the airwaves, even if he was the one who pushed you out into the light as his own, the commentary and speculation’s made him want to claw everything in sight when they’d gotten something wrong or a little too right. He didn’t want to hear about the person that you spent so much time with, the one that he’d never met but knew would take away the one thing he held so tightly at night, claws digging into your sides with arms wrapped crushingly around you before you’d make a small noise of complaint and he’d force himself to ease up or risk waking you fully. He hardly ever powered down at night when the two of you were new to your relationship, instead choosing to run out of battery in the middle of the day rather than miss a moment of his one and only in blissful slumber after helping to preen your feathers for the night.

He’d fucked himself over, giving you a name for yourself and having that be the thing that tore you from his grasp. He’d always known where you were, where you’d be, where you’d go, when you’d be home, all the time as if on schedule. Suddenly having you so far, it reminded him of the times you’d be away on those trips of yours , still full of anticipation he’d see them again soon.

As more weeks passed by, he was sure it was over.

And what could he do with that?

Swallowing thickly, he’d reclined in his seat in front of the wall of monitors. He’d sent out a last ditch request and had his underlings scope out anyone by the name of Lucian that belonged to the high society of Hell in this ring currently. The result? This Lucian must be a goddamn hermit, or you had been lying to him.

That was out of the question. You had never lied to him before, you’d never had a reason to, he made sure of that. So this Lucian must be with you, if he had to guess, the one keeping you under wraps. Or worse, taken advantage of his love in this delicate time and kept you for his own like he’s real fucking sure he’d wantedtodoallalon—

He sat there and let out a long sigh.

Every time he thought about you, he only wishes you’d just turned to look at him when he’d turned on that hypnotic swirl on his screen a second time as you were walking out of his life.

He could have sat you down and they could have talked about things. He could have forced himself to apologize when he turned off the hypnosis after making sure they weren’t going to leave him right then and there. They could still be together, if you’d just looked at him.

When did you stop doing that?

Was it all really just because of the announcement?

He couldn’t help but think maybe you’d wanted to leave him. How else could it have been so easy to disappear out of his life like this? Did you have a plan, or force yourself to figure it out when he’d made them lose their will?

He silently cursed at himself, the least he could have done was take down that stupid fucking broadcast that ruined everything for him. A simple broadcast or you. He’d never weighed it against each other, never believing you leaving was ever in the question.

They’d hardly ever argue, you and him had an understanding about each other, or so he had thought you two did. He thinks he could have changed if you’d asked him, but he knows he wasn’t listening to you that day, too amped up on the elation of Hell finally knowing he’d managed to snag an Ars Goetia for himself, one that wasn’t like the rest of these pricks that tried to undermine everything he’d built at every turn the second they could. One that never made him think he could lose it all with one misstep, until he did.

He’s sure he could make things right if he saw you again. Mend what he broke so carelessly in his excitement.

You’d come back to him, or he’d find you. It was only a matter of time. And when that time came…

He could tell you all about this period of his life when he reunited with you, like talking about a bad dream when you were back into the safety of someone’s arms, all warm and content, basking in your presence and the scent of your skin.

So he’d wait.

And look at these feeds without wavering until he saw the familiar sight of your feathery figure again.

Till death do the two of you part, and you both are already dead, so where did you think you were going?

The sound of an alert hits his screen and he jolts up, eyes wide as his screen hones on on a figure, the facial recognition system having zoomed in on the one he had been desperately waiting to see all these weeks.

There you were.

#hazbin hotel x reader #vox hazbin x reader #vox x reader

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yallmakemyassitch · 1 month

Text

Scratch Task

Summary: Tabi had gotten sick of Agoti slick and slimy ways of sneakily tickling him, so it was about time he retained some comeuppance and taught the poor boy a lesson~! ^⁠_⁠^

Word count: 5133

Character count: 29277

Tobi talks: Well hello again to all you lovely fellas, I'm here with something special for you lot! As you know, I'm on hiatus due to school and personal life stuff and that won't change for the foreseeable future. I had this cute idea to redraw one of Sensey's art pieces as I think the position they're in and how Tabi is pinning Agoti is downright hilarious and downright devious! But I wouldn't be doing it any justice without writing something about it, after all, you just gotta appreciate her creativity (⁠●⁠♡⁠∀⁠♡⁠)

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55564837

Enjoy the story, gooday you lovely people and have a great day y’all! 🩷(⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

✿

“T-Tabi! C-c’mon man, I’m serious!” Agoti shrieked, his feet propelling him as fast as they could away from his pursuing friend, who was quickly gaining on him. Tabi lunged at him again, but the digidevil managed to dodge just in the nick of time. He stumbled and fell hard onto the ground, giving his friend an extra jumpstart in the chase.

“Agoti! Get back here!” The goat-man yelled after him, quickly getting up and running after him, a fresh dose of adrenaline pumping in his veins. The digidevil’s heart raced and his thundering footsteps quickened.

Fear was an understatement to what he was feeling, with his teeth gritted and eyebrows knitted into a panicked visage, one would think he had encountered death himself.

He might as well have anyway. Agoti had pushed Tabi too far and as a consequence, turned the Russian man into an unstoppable force of nature. No matter how much or how far he ran, Tabi was always right around the corner.

In this moment of reflection, the digidevil realized he couldn’t hear Tabi’s footsteps anymore and slowed down before eventually stopping. His labored lungs were on fire and burned with every breath he tried to reclaim.

Agoti grasped his knees and hunched over, feeling his forehead drip with sweat onto the pavement. Agoti swallowed a spitball. “Oh god…” He gasped. How long had he been running? 10, maybe 15 minutes of just sprinting? He signed and stood up straight, stretching his back and his arms.

He didn’t feel safe in the area they were in, Tabi was known to be an excellent ambusher, so it would be best if he moved somewhere he couldn’t find him.

Just as he was going to head off, he heard a strange sound. The digidevil turned back around, now even more nervous, and just as he was about to whip around to run away, he heard Tabi’s dreaded voice coming from right behind him.

“Found you,” Tabi whispered in his ear.

Then his world flipped upside down, feeling a swift and strong force sweep his ankles from underneath him. Agoti couldn’t even comprehend what had happened until he landed hard on his chest. Panic soon set in when he felt someone heavy sit on his back and grab his wrist.

“Tabi! Please no!” The demon shrieked with terror, realizing the extent of his situation. “Too late for excuses, Agoti.” The Russian man hummed calmly above him.

Agoti was fast and agile, but Tabi was stronger and heavier than him, so pinning the digidevil was an easy feat. Tabi twisted his dominant arm behind his back and pinned it on the center of his back with the firm grip of his hand and pushed all his weight into the grip.

As expected, Agoti began to thrash and squirm, attempting to forcefully dismount the man off his back. A horrifying revelation came when he realized Tabi was sitting rather close to his rear, which made the prospect of slithering his tail out to defend himself impossible.

The Russian man watched as the digidevil fruitlessly kicked his legs and waved around his other arm, hell, his kicks would land on his back sometimes, but Tabi was stocky enough to handle it.

The digidevil tuckered out, realizing that his method of escape wasn’t working, and relaxed his muscles.

“Are you done?” The invisible man asked with an arch of his eyebrow.

“Y-yeah…” Agoti grumbled begrudgingly.

“Good, now then…” Tabi, with his free hand, pinched his friend’s right side. “Let's talk.”

The demon flinched and quietly squeaked. Oh god. Oh god no.

Tabi couldn’t see his face at his angle but could tell the digidevil was very nervous. He couldn’t help but grin and chuckle to himself. “Oh Agoti, Agoti…” He shook his head.

Agoti tensed when he felt his bony finger slowly trace up and down his side. “I have to ask you something,” Tabi exclaimed, his voice now much more casual and amused than before.

“Y-yeah?” God damn, he almost giggled a bit.

Tabi leaned over to where his bony snout would be right next to his ear. “Are you ticklish?” This time, his tone was dripping with mischief. His index finger began to quickly wiggle into his side, traveling up and down the sensitive area.

Tabi watched Agoti’s reaction carefully, his lower jaw appearing to complete his already menacing expression.

“N-noho…” Agoti hissed through clenched teeth, contradicted by a wild, silly smile beginning to spread across his lips.

The Russian huffed. “Well that’s good, otherwise what I’m about to do would really suck.”

“Huh- wait, ta-TAHahaHAhABI!” Agoti squealed. He resumed his squirming, his side’s nerves stimulated and sending all kinds of ticklish shocks up his torso. The hand that was previously tweaking his side was energetically digging into the tender flesh.

“Hmph. Liar.” Tabi quietly huffed, beginning to knead into the flesh with his fingertips, causing Agoti to attempt to twist his free arm around to grab his wrist, but the awkward angle he was pinned at made it difficult.

Tabi easily brushed him off and continued with the torture. “PLEHEHEASE, I- I caHAHAN’T!”

“Oh, yes you can. We haven’t even made it to your worst spot yet.” The entire sentence he just uttered not only sent chills down his spine but he managed to switch his tone from casual and dismissive to downright despicable.

The digidevil screamed when he felt Tabi’s hand begin to jump around his torso. The goat-man knew the digidevil was ticklish as hell, so putting him in stitches wasn’t difficult. Agoti thrashed from left to right, feeling his hand grab his hip, digging his four fingers into the front while the thumb made devious circles in the back, leaving him cackling like a madman.

This only increased when the Russian’s fingers burrowed into the sweet spot between his side and tummy, which got a hearty wheeze out of Agoti.

“Heh.” He heard Tabi chuckle, his golden eyes sparkling with amusement. He quickly crawled up his side and drilled his bony fingers into the very crevice of his underarm.

“N-NOHO!” Agoti cried, his arm shooting down to cover the sensitive spot. He foolishly trapped his hand but was glad to feel the hand leave once Tabi realized tickling wasn’t possible with his arm that tight against his side.

“Hm. Suit yourself then, I’ll just have to go to the other one.” Tabi exclaimed, oddly calm.

Tabi then began to pull up Agoti’s pinned arm, keeping it in its bent position, but steadily exposing his other armpit. “DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE!” Agoti yelled, nervous giggles tumbling out of him at record speed. He resisted, pulling down as much he could as a counter to Tabi’s tugging.

He just grinned and in one swift motion, pulled the arm at the desired 45-degree angle. Agoti’s stomach dropped, seems the Russian man was holding out on the poor boy. Man, he really had to hit the weights after this.

The digidevil’s train of thought was interrupted when a single finger began to circle slowly around his pit. Agoti hid his face in the floor again, there was a large, stupid grin on his face that he couldn’t bear to expose to the rest of the world.

“Tickle, tickle, Agoti…” Tabi’s voice cooed lowly above him, making sure to purr out each syllable in the most taunting tone he could muster. This wasn’t difficult, his Russian accent left a lot of room for letters to roll off his tongue with delicious deviousness.

He still couldn’t see his face but could see Agoti was red, the blush even managing to spill onto the side of his head.

“N-noHohoHo Tahahabi, that’s sohOho meheheAn…” The demon whined, his tendrils curling with embarassment.

“Oh trust me, I can get a lot meaner~” The invisible man laughed. Then the tracing began to ascend, keeping its gentle touch until his fingers were dancing along his bicep. Agoti groaned, giggles flowing freely out of him, he knew what Tabi was getting at.

“This familiar, Agoti?” Tabi asked with an amused snort, digging into his bicep with fervor. The demon squealed, and now his giggles were much louder, mixed in with hiccups and snorts, he sounded ridiculous. The sensation was annoying, a touch he couldn’t get away from, and Tabi made sure he felt the same pain Agoti put him through.

That being instead of his underarms, the rapper had trapped his friend underneath him and tormented his knees until he screamed uncle. Tabi looked back on it with a grimace, but with the same man at his mercy, he felt a sense of relief taking out his pent-up frustration on the bastard.

“Fuhuhuck, okay! I’m s-SOohoHhorRy!” He cried, his free arm lightly slamming the floor several times. He never knew his arms were so sensitive but he guessed Tabi learned a thing or two before finally initiating his revenge.

“No excuses~” Tabi purred, lightly digging just right above where his armpit would be. Agoti cried out and knocked his forehead on the floor a few times, the sensations were going to make him go mad. “UHuHaAHAHA!” He kept this up for a while, giving his friend much-needed treatment after all the bullshit he put him through.

Well, it reached the finale and it was about time he’d given him what he was anticipating.

“Oh Agoti, I’m going to get your little armpit~” The Russian cooed, his index finger starting to slowly travel down his elbow, then his bicep, and then the little spot that would make his friend sing to the rooftops. Agoti about screamed when he announced himself and began to struggle again. “Tahahahabi seheheriously, I’m sorry! I- AHA!” Agoti whined again, squawking when he felt fingers tweak his neck.

“I don’t believe you.” The Russian man posed his hand into a claw shape right above his right underarm and kept it there. The digidevil was laughing and squirming wildly, the laughter bubbling out of him like a faucet was akin to a hyena. Tabi snorted, as much as a punishment this was, he had to admit, his digidevil friend had a cute laugh.

He snapped himself out of his trance when he realized Agoti had lied still, in wait for his friend to put him in stitches.

And that he did. Tabi touched down and scribbled furiously into the underarm. His reaction was an understatement when described as “explosive”, the man immediately burst out into raucous cackles and squeals that would be the previously mentioned hyena to shame.

Agoti had ticklish armpits, but the spot wasn’t too bad on its own. His friend’s teasing had turned into a giddy ball of nerves, which may or may not have been purposeful. He was losing it, his chest shaking with unrelenting howls of laughter.

“PLEHEHEASE, STOHOHAHAP! MEHEHERCY!” Agoti’s legs were limp on the ground, slightly twitching in contrast to his seizing torso. Tabi made sure to dig deep and as ferociously as possible into the very center, smug as a bug witnessing his friend cry for mercy.

“And why should I? You didn’t give me any mercy when you were tickling me?” His friend couldn’t answer. This continued for a while, sometimes randomly scribbling up his arm to tease the bicep until Tabi heard a wheezy cough come out of Agoti, that’s when he stopped and removed his hand.

Tabi pinned his arm back down to back and it moreover collapsed, as the digidevil was too tired to fight back at this point. Agoti panted, teary-eyed and blushing hard. The invisible man let Agoti rest his throat, after all, the true finale wouldn’t be complete if his victim wasn’t rejuvenated.

“O-oh gahad…” Agoti panted, the ghost of the tickles still lingered on his body. His shoulders rose and fell with each passing second as he gradually regained his breath.

“How was that?” Tabi asked, playfully punching his friend’s shoulder blade.

“Awful,” The rapper said with a roll of his eyes. “Now, can you get off of me? You got your revenge.” Agoti craned his neck to meet Tabi’s gaze but was confused, then horrified to be met with initial nonchalance to the spread of his grin and the speechless shake of his skull.

“Tabi, you’ve got to be shitting me!” Agoti hissed quickly, his tendrils springing into action in a series of coiling and terrified phalanges. “Nope, sorry, Agoti.” Tabi hissed right back, sarcasm oozing from his tone. Agoti was scared but realized something, he had energy! He could finally fight back.

The digidevil swung his other arm around to hopefully grab the man’s wrist and pull it off of him. He rejoiced when he felt the Russian’s grip come loose, which freed his slightly numb, right hand.

Agoi placed both hands on the floor and was going to flip himself over, taking Tabi with him. He gravely miscalculated his move, his repositioned arms exposed his most sensitive spot; his ribcage.

The goat-man acted quickly and with both hands, grabbed the sides of his ribcage and squeezed. Agoti screamed and collapsed, and Tabi took this as an opportunity to put the demon back in position. The demon moaned sadly on the floor he stuffed his face into.

“Sorry but, I’m not done here,” Tabi said, making sure his arm was firmly stuck in place with no place to move. The digidevil didn’t even say anything, seeming to have accepted his fate. That would make the job easier for Tabi, but that didn’t necessarily mean he was done asking questions. The first question was just a coverup for what he was really wondering.

Tabi gently grasped the right side of Agoti’s ribcage, not even grabbing it, just wrapping his hand around the spot, mimicking the curve of his ribs. Since Agoti’s right arm was out of commission, it was the perfect place to begin the real torture.

“This will be my second and final question, so you better listen up!” The Russian declared angrily.

The digidevil said nothing and the man pining him down took it as a sign he was listening.

Tabi sighed deeply. “Agoti, why do you keep tickling me?” All the irritation in his tone vanished, he sounded solemn and quiet. Agoti craned his neck to look at him and their gazes met instantly, as Tabi was already staring deeply into him. His eyebrows were furrowed and his golden eyes were brimming with patience. He wasn’t mad in the slightest.

Agoti’s face fell, now looking quite solemn himself. “Vell?” Tabi said, leaning a bit closer and sounded amused when his accent slipped a bit but still patiently awaiting his response.

His chest fluttered, he knew the answer to his question. Could he tell him? Could he tell Tabi that he thought he wasn’t tickling him out of mischief but because he thought his laughter was not only really cute but handsome? That being this close to him at the moment made his heart beat a mile a minute?

Tickling was his method of ‘flirting’ with Tabi. It was too embarrassing and too early, knowing him, Tabi wasn’t too interested in love after what he’s been through. Agoti could be a selfish asshole at times, but he wanted to savor his feelings when the timing was right. Tabi had taken his heart by storm the moment he had met him and the Russian man was none the wiser.

Oh who was he kidding, Agoti was just too pussy to admit he had fallen for him.

He conjured up the most bullshit answer his panicking mind could formulate. Agoti sighed and began to speak in his ‘sincerest tone’...

“It’s cuz you’re sad all the time.”

“What?” Tabi said quietly.

“Dude you’re seriously a Debbie downer, you’re constantly frowning and my jokes hardly even get to you. I wanna see you have fun, not just mopey and sad.” Agoti mumbled, avoiding the gaze now staring over his head onto him, casting a shadow. Tabi blinked at him and sighed.

“Agoti, Agoti…” Tabi started.

He stiffened when he felt something pinch his ribs. “You’ve always been a terrible liar.” He huffed, half-amused half-dissapointed.

Then the kneading began, Tabi had his hand shaped into a pincer and was thoroughly pinching and kneading in between each rib bone, along with the bone itself, and descended one rib when he figured that one had enough.

Agoti loudly snorted and bit the hell out of his lower lip, scratching at the floor with his sharp claws. He was doing a lot better than he imagined, despite his mind screaming for the sensations to stop.

Tabi realized what he was doing and coughed out a dry laugh, the mischief still left over from earlier allowed him to make such a sound.

Tabi took his hand and kneaded into the entire side of the ribcage instead, making sure his fingertips were vibrating in between the tender gaps of the bones. The Russian could feel the dam collapse immediately as Agoti breathed in…

And nothing came out. He could feel his chest shaking and saw his hand dig and curl deeply into the ground before a loud shriek could be heard. It was louder than what he heard today. Tabi winced, the sound long, shrill, and painful, before quickly descending into a cacophony of hysteria.

The kicking started back up and Agoti was back to his usual ways of thrashing and squirming. His laughter, now much more girlish, almost made Tabi smile a bit, but he kept his lips pursed and serious. “NoHOHOhOHOAHAH- hic NOTHAHOT THAHAT!”

“That’s strike one, Agoti. Do it again or I’ll go to the other side.” Tabi replied calmly, slowing his pace to gentle jabs all over his right side. Agoti was hysterical, twitching and spasming every time Tabi hit a sweet spot, much to his chagrin.

“FUhUhUCK TAHAahABi! Thihihis ihihis sohohoho BAHAHAD!” He squealed at the end when he felt pinching around his upper ribcage, dancing fingertips poking at the sensitive bone.

“I know, that’s why I asked your dad about it,” Tabi replied casually.

Wait what? “H-HuHuhuh?” Agoti giggled profusely before the former musician stopped tormenting his side.

“Yup, I asked your dad if you were ticklish. He spilled, surprisingly.” His face was knitted into a reminiscing expression, which quickly turned into unapologetic mirth as he laughed for a while, seeing from the corner of Agoti’s face that he had turned white before shifting into a deep crimson.

“D-dad told you?!” Agoti asked, exasperated.

“Yep.” Tabi repeated, popping the ‘p’, “I was expecting him to start interrogating me, to be honest, but I guess he likes me now cuz he was pretty upfront with me. A pretty standup guy if I’m being honest.” He shrugged.

“His ribs are his worst spot, especially the ones on the bottom, they get him the worst.” Solazar hummed, readjusting his glasses.

“Ah, I see,” Tabi said, rubbing his bony chin.

“May I ask what for?” The Solarisapien questioned, eyes gentle but burning with skepticism. An improvement from his initial scowling and shooting glares when he first met the young man.

His shoulders shook as he laughed. “Nothing important, Mr. Solazar,”

Solazar could tell he had no nefarious intentions based on his eyes, which brightened with unmistakable playfulness and mischief. He could tell where this was going, he saw that gaze all too often in his boys in their youth.

“Oh alright,” The former warrior sighed, straightening his back.

The digidevil was mortified beyond belief, his father sold him out?! Agoti had no time to react when he felt his pincers move again to latch onto his bony figure and wiggle in every groove possible, but Tabi made sure to avoid the bottom ones, to save the best for last, of course.

“N-nonono- T-TAHAHBI! AHaaAH NOhaHAHAHA!” He resumed his previous moments, this time, much more flustered at the bombshell that just dropped on him and squirmier than before. Even Tabi was a little disheveled at how much he was squirming.

Surely, it couldn’t feel that bad? Then he thought of that one time Agoti blasted his neck with raspberries and mentally kicked himself.

“Now then, let’s try that again. I’ll know when you’re lying, so don’t even try it.” Tabi slowed down his tickling to simply drumming across his ribs, keeping the demon back on his toes, in between cloud 9 and hysteria.

Agoti was back to senseless laughter, what would have normally been hearty giggles were hiccupy cackles. His already ablaze nerves made it hard to calm down after the vicious ribbing he was going through. Tears were nearly about to fall out of his eyes and his face hurt from smiling so much.

“Again, Agoti, why do you keep tickling me?” His serious tone when he asked initially was gone and was swapped for a more, demanding but playful tone. This time, he was scribbling his fingertips not only across his ribs but all over his side. He momentarily danced them across his back, which got some funny squeaks out of him.

The digidevil buried his face in his arm and unleashed a flurry of uncontrollable mirth, stuck in-between giggling when he felt fingers wiggle against his shoulderblades to cackles when Tabi dug his rough fingers into the divots of his ribs and hips.

The Russian man was much more impatient than before as Tabi quickened his kneading into downright drilling. He made sure it didn’t hurt, but he made damn sure Agoti knew this wasn’t as bad as it was going to get. And he couldn’t handle that.

“Well?!” Tabi yelled angrily, causing the digidevil to flinch when he heard his bark above his hysterical cackling.

“OKaHAhAHAY- AHAHA! I’LL TEHEHLL YOU! I’LL TELL!”

“Vell, go on then, I’m getting impatient.” At least he had the grace to tell him. A few seconds later Agoti managed to regain his bearings, still a bit fatigued but not completely losing it anymore.

“It’s because I- EEK!” Agoti squealed when he felt a pinch on his lower ribs. A warning for what was to come.

“Hm?”

“Because I wanted to mess with you, damn!”

His lip twitched.

“Tabi, you know that I like to mess with my friends. You’re one of them, you see how I treat people close to me, man! It’s just my way of affection and if you didn’t like it, well that’s not my fucking proBLEM-! FUCK! GAHAHAHAHAH!”

“No, you’re lying to me again,” Tabi said calmly, his face as cool and collected as he could be.

“NAHAHOHO I’M NOHOHOHOT!” The digidevil retorted, contorting his body in never before positions as his friend dug into his lower ribcage.

“Yes, you are~” He singsonged, chuckling as his fingertips kneaded into his lower rib bones. Agoti screeched when Tabi began to dig and pinch into the very last bones of his ribcage, methodical in his method to keep his friend in a state of hysterical paralysis.

Agoti went limp under him, but his chest still gyrated with cackles and hiccups. His laughter went silent when Tabi focused on the very bottom rib, teasingly circling his thumb in the tender spot until he stopped.

Agoti squeaked when he felt something touch his left side. As promised, Tabi would get him if he caught him slacking. “AH! WAIT! NOHOHO! FUCK FUCK FUHUHUCK!” That side of his body had been entirely vulnerable for the entirety he had been kept stuck under Tabi. His choosing to exploit it now was a despicable decision.

He acted quickly and shot his arm down to protect it. Tabi hadn’t exited this time, rather, it gave him a much better opportunity to knead into the crevices of his ribs. Tabi wiggled to and fro, feeling Agoti absolutely spaz and lose it as he squirm and thrash uncontrollably, his legs now reignited in a fit of kicks.

“Told you what would happen.”

The former musician began to crawl up over the entirety of his left side, up his ribs, and even managed to graze his underarm a little. He smirked as Agoti squeaked, squirmed, and howled without fail. His ribs were just that ticklish and he was going to take advantage of that fact.

This went on for eternity, at least to the digidevil. Even Aldryx was more merciful than him and he was his brother! Agoti hadn’t even realized Tabi had stopped, he was just about to tap out.

“Last chance.” Tabi hummed, looking over to his friend’s face. He looked fucked up, his face was beyond red, now in a maroonish color, eyes teary and wet from the onslaught of tickling. He panted and panted, barely processing his friend's words.

Tabi stayed silent, quietly waiting for Agoti to speak up. He waited much longer than he had before, allowing the digidevil to regain his breath and recover. But when Agoti finally did, he said nothing, nothing at all. Tabi waited another minute longer and shook his head at the revelation that he wouldn’t be getting an answer.

“Awww, well that’s too bad~” The Russian cooed, beginning to slowly tweak his sides again. “What, did you want to be tickled that bad, Goti?” He chuckled when he heard Agoti groan, he hated being called that.

“S-shuhut uhuhup…” He said, exhaustion clearly in his voice.

“Naahh, you deserve it after wasting my time like this.”

“Go fuck yourself.” Agoti bluntly mumbled.

Tabi just chuckled, releasing his arm from his hold, allowing it to flop uselessly on the floor. He didn’t get off his back however, only readjusting his position to side sideways, no longer straddling him and allowing him to plop his feet on the ground.

The seconds ticked by, the two quietly enjoying one another’s presence. It was like this for a while, with Agoti being oddly complicate with being sat on and the Russian not saying a word, however, the silence was broken when he spoke up.

“So am I ever gonna get an answer?”

Agoti said nothing.

Tabi just sighed and went back to staring off into space.

“It’s cuz I like you.” He heard him mumble.

“Mhm…” His nodded his head and went back- wait, what?! What was melancholy turned into alarm, his eyes widened, and he turned his head to look at Agoti. His entire face was hidden by his tendrils, making it impossible to tell what expression he was making.

“Agoti…” Tabi whispered.

“Hehe yeah, it’s dumb. I get it if you don’t feel the same.” Agoti chuckled dryly, void of any amusement. Hell, he sounded a bit nervous. So much for ‘too early’...

The goatman was quiet and the digidevil expected him to get up before spitting out a blunt rejection. What he didn’t expect was the graze of bone grazing his head before brushing away some of his limp tendrils, allowing him to see the side of his face. His cheeks were bright and lips pulled into a tight frown.

“What, that’s it? You only just liked me?”

“Yeah…”

The former musician's chest shook as those deep, rich chuckles rang out of him. Agoti’s heart did a flip when he heard them but didn’t make it known. Tabi cupped the side of his face and turned it, forcing the digidevil to look at him.

His white scleras widened, his golden eyes were soft, and the fondness that glimmered from them was overwhelmingly tender.

“I like you too, Agoti.” He purred softly, maintaining eye contact with the young man, who by this point had completely melted, he could feel the blood pump to his cheeks as the man above him smirked. Damn, he was hot at this angle.

Tabi dismounted Agoti and sat beside his lying body. The digidevil, now able to sit up, did the same. He avoided eye contact like a bitch, he could tell he was staring right at him.

The silence was loud, with the man of his dreams staring at him like he was a million bucks. It gave him the ego boost, but he didn’t expect it so soon and certainly wasn’t ready.

“You want a kiss, big baby?” Tabi teased.

The question made the digidevil freeze and blush even more. He managed to turn to Tabi, who was much closer than he remembered. Agoti didn’t remember him looking this handsome, especially since his snout was a whisper away from his face.

His breath hitched when the goatman grasped his shoulders and pulled him in. It didn’t take long for their lips to touch, although his snout made it a little awkward, Tabi turned his way at such an angle that Agoti was surprised to feel thin yet firm lips touch his own.

Soon they melted into each other’s arms, with Tabi delicately kissing him and the digidevil being unable to think, his stomach exploding into butterflies.

When Tabi pulled away, Agoti collapsed into his chest. Tabi laughed in surprise but kept the man in his arms, playing with his hair as his other arm wrapped around his back.

His fingertips gently scrubbed through his scalp, sending chills down his spine. His tendrils were also ticklish, but of course, he couldn’t tell him that, otherwise, he’d never live it down.

“Oh, Agoti~” He cooed, taking full advantage of his accent. Hearing his name belted out in such a way made Agoti puddy in his bony palms. His chin was tugged upwards by Tabi’s hand and placed his chin directly in the center of his torso, allowing the two to make direct eye contact.

The Russian admired him for a second longer before pressing a small kiss to his forehead. “So cute~ Can I kiss you again?”

As if he could refuse. Agoti lightly nodded and thus the process repeated, the two gently kissing one another, with Tabi blurting out the occasional praise and compliment, somehow always catching the digidevil offguard. In the midst of their makeup session, Tabi had gotten a little mischievous and squeezed the side of Agoti’s ribcage, which made him shriek.

He chuckled evilly, as Agoti began to squirm, collapsing his back into his torso, only allowing Tabi to wrap his arms around his torso and attack his sides that way. He was hysterical, his cheeks now red with how much he was laughing.

“Aw, look at you~” Tabi cooed, pressing a quick kiss to his boyfriend’s cheek. Boyfriend? Yes, boyfriend! He slowed down the tickles to soft wiggling, leaving the man softly tittering.

“B-bahahahbe c-cmohohohon!”

“Nope, that’s what you get for not being honest with me, Goti’!”

“God I fuhuhucking hahahate yohohou!” The digidevil spat, leaning his head against his boyfriend’s chest, uselessly grasping the wrists currently tickling the sides of his ribcage. Tabi just rolled his eyes, knowing that it was far from the truth, and focused on peppering his neck and cheeks with quick kisses, while tweaking his ribs.

What a day to be alive, I suppose.

✿

Fin~

Thanks for reading btw and being so patient with my inactive ass :333 💀

#fnf tickling #ler tabi #lee agoti #solazar #my art #tabi mod #entity mod #tickle fic #my fic #friday night funkin #still on hiatus but ill never forget yall XD #this took way longer than it should have but then again life happens so i’m happy to show y’all this!#anyways gonna leave again XD see y’all in june #edit for 5/23: yeah i formatted it wrong (forgor the before and after flowers i usually put) so the fic will look slightly different

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pappydaddy · 1 year

Text

when i'm eighty (j.m.)

tv show/movie: outer banks | pairing: jj maybank x fem!pogue!reader

requested by a lovely anon as part of my 800 follower celebration

synopsis: y/n is exhausted and jj neglected the bike's gas tank. who knew it would lead to such a proclamation.

warnings: tears (exhausted) | karen situation mentioned | the lovely realities of a retail job

navigation | masterlist | taglist sign-up

- not my gif -

Sure, Pogue life was fun and relatively carefree, and Y/N wouldn’t trade her life for anything, but it did have its downfalls. Like when you see something you really like and you pick up extra shifts and work your ass off for it, but a Kook just has to ask their parents for it and boom - they have one they barely use or care for. Or when you accidentally spend too much money grocery shopping so now you have to pinch your pennies until next pay in two weeks. Or, like for Y/N right now, you have to work all day, every day because your crappy minimum wage job is severely understaffed and, even though they treat you horribly, you offer to pick up more shifts.

Y/N, right now, wasn’t too pleased with her status as a Pogue. Not when she is standing here, bored out of her mind and swaying on her feet as the middle aged Kook rambled on and on about something. Y/N wasn’t too sure what she was complaining about, truthfully, she stopped listening after the woman called her an incompetent child - which was the very first thing that came out of her pink smeared lips.

All she could actually focus on was how heavy her eyelids were, or how much she wanted to cut her feet off or just rip them right from her body. Or the dull ache that nestled itself right in the dip of her spine. Or how much she wishes she could just smash her kneecaps because, at this point, they were so tired and sore they were basically numb. It had been five days straight of her leaving school the second it was over and having her boyfriend, JJ, drive her to her work (a small hardware store), and then working to close.

She was exhausted, but she was falling behind on her road to buying a reliable car. Not the heap of rusted metal that has been sitting in her driveway for the past few months - completely broken. Luckily, because the owners did not want the possibility of being sued, they refused to let her work this weekend. That meant, once this woman was done with her tantrum, Y/N could get out of there and sleep for the foreseeable future. Well, at least until JJ had to get up for his shift delivering groceries tomorrow afternoon. She just hoped today wasn’t the one day JJ was late to pick her up.

“Mark my words, because you all know nothing, I will never come back here,” The lady slammed her hand against the counter Y/N stood at, the newly hired cashier shaking slightly behind her. “And I will be in contact with your manager and owner for reimbursement for any bills that come from this.” She sneered, gesturing to the empty bottle of antifreeze that was specifically made for diesel engines. That she put in her Land Rover.

“You have a nice night, the owner and manager will both be in after nine tomorrow morning.” Y/N drawled like a robot, ignoring the huff and snarky comment the woman made towards her for her lack of respect. There was no way in hell Y/N was apologising to her when Y/N and the manager were the ones who told the woman and her husband not to get that antifreeze, but her husband just wouldn’t listen.

“And I am telling them about your horrible behaviour towards me-”

“Ma’am,” Their night manager appeared from one of the aisles, looking annoyed. The clock had ticked by to read five minutes after close, meaning this woman was standing there ranting for over ten minutes. “We closed five minutes ago, if you have an issue, you can call and discuss this with our head manager and the owner tomorrow, but now you need to leave unless you want to front the money to pay us the overtime you are causing us because we won’t get paid.” He told her, pointing her towards the exit.

She scoffed. “Of course I won’t pay you people to be incompetent at your jobs. I mean, how hard is it to sell people items? If anything, I should be getting money for you people for the damages you caused to my expensive Land Rover-”

“Again, ma’am, you will have to bring that up with the people with more power than me,” The manager looked completely exhausted and annoyed with this woman. He grabbed the empty bottle from where she left it. “Now, you can either leave on your own or I will be contacting the authorities and they will remove you from the premises and you will be banned.”

He held out the empty bottle just before she snatched it, her nose turned up as she scoffed, turning on her heel and leaving out the door. “Okay, you two go, I will lock everything up.” He waved them off. Smiling thankfully, Y/N grabbed her thin sweater (which was JJ’s) and her empty plastic bottle of water, tossing it in the recycling bin.

“Thank you, Gerry. Have fun tomorrow.” She waved bye to him as the new cashier trailed quietly behind her. Pulling the hoodie over her head, she left through the same door the woman had, seeing her fancy silver audi sitting in the parking lot. From inside, she could see her phone pressed to her ear as she yelled.

“Hey, sweets,” JJ greeted her, pushing off from the wall he leaned on. Y/N smiled, saying a quick ‘see you’ to the quiet girl as she bounded over towards her mother’s car. Her feet not moving, she held her arms open for JJ, signalling she wanted a hug. JJ complied, striding the short distance to her and wrapping his arms around her waist. Naturally, her arms rested on his shoulders, enjoying the relief and comfort his hug brought her. It was like every ache in her body left and the weight that was crushing her lifted. “Long night?” He asked, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

She hummed. “Long week.” She corrected him, snuggling into his chest. He laughed lightly, not wanting to jostle her as she clung to him.

“As much as I would love to stay here hugging, we should really get you some food then to bed.” JJ started to pull away. Whining, she released him, the growling and uncomfortable feeling in her stomach too persistent to ignore, but her face remained planted into his chest.

“Carry me to the bike?” Her voice was muffled as she spoke.

“Sorry, sweets, the bike needs gas and I don’t get paid until next week.” He informed her, hands on her shoulders and pulling her face from his chest, just enough for him to see her face. Instantly, he was met by a pout and a whine from her.

She blinked at him, puppy dog eyes in full effect. “But I’m too tired to walk, JJ.” She told him. And looking at her, he could see she was. The eye Bags under her eyes were so deep that the concealer couldn’t even hide them. Her shoulder drooped so much it looked like she was lugging a bookbag that weighed fifty tons on them. And, not to mention, the way her eyes blinked lazily, looking a second away from closing in slumber.

Aside from her appearance, he could tell over the past few days she was completely exhausted. The way she kept falling asleep on his shoulder at lunch or as they skipped their respective classes in favour of cuddles. She only skipped classes when she wasn’t sleeping properly or she was bored. The way she was extra clingy (like right now). Or how she nearly face-planted into her breakfast this morning. “I know, Sweets. But the bike didn’t even have enough gas to drive here.”

Sighing, tears welled in her eyes. A mixture of exhaustion and stress filled her, creating tears. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked you to waste all that gas driving me here and back home.” She weeped, sniffling as she blinked frantically.

JJ, nearly shitting himself at the sight of tears, jumped out of his skin in fright. “No, no, Sweets. Don’t cry,” He shushed, wrapping her up in his arms so tight her eyes could pop out of their sockets (not really because he would never hurt her). She sniffled into his sweater, tears hitting his sweater. “I didn’t waste gas driving you. I can never waste anything when it comes to you. I let the tank get that low, it’s my fault. I thought I had enough but John B hit a pothole the other day and I needed to go help him change the tire, that’s where the gas went. It’s all John B's fault for being on the mainland and driving like an idiot.” He rocked them from side to side until the tears slowed and the sniffles seemed to quiet down.

“John B made you drive all the way to the mainland to help him change the tire?” She asked, pulling her face from his chest, but his arms didn’t let go over her, keeping her pressed to him. Her eyes were watery and puffy, a red tinge to the whites of her eyes. Her face was puffy and blotchy, trails of dried tears running down her cheeks.

JJ nodded, moving his arms to grip her face, thumbs lightly rubbing the tear streaks. “Yeah. And the idiot also decided to take everything except the jack out of the van so we had to go get a lug nut wrench which ate up more gas.”

“He never learns his lesson, does he?” She laughed. It was wet, her mouth thick from the tears still.

“No, he doesn’t,” He whispered, his voice low as he stared at her. “Now, let’s get you home before you fall asleep standing here,” He stepped back, putting distance between them. She watched with furrowed brows as he turned his back to her, crouching down, practically kneeling on the sidewalk in front of the store. “Hop up.” He told her, arms to his side, stuck towards her slightly, waiting for her to climb onto his back.

“JJ,” She exclaimed. “You’re not going to be able to carry me all the way to John B’s!”

“Yeah I can. I’m eighteen, not eighty,” He told her, pointing to his back. Sighing, she knew he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. On top of that, he would find another way to carry her. Her hands gripped his shoulders as she hopped onto his back. His hands instantly gripped the bottom of her thighs, securing her there and he stood up to his full height. She let out a small squeal at the sudden change in height, kicking her feet slightly at the feeling of them not being on the ground. It always took her a second to get used to being held on his back. “And even when I’m eighty, I am sure as hell gonna still give you piggy back rides.”

“Sure, we’ll revisit that when you are hunched over because you gave me so many piggy back rides now.” She laughed, her arms lazily moving to rest closer to his neck, her chin resting on her bicep as he started to walk towards John B’s.

“Why do you think I am in such great shape? I am training to carry you around my whole life.”

“If that’s the case, might want to lay off the weed and the booze.” She poked him in the pectoral teasingly. He squeezed her thigh playfully back, laughing as she pressed a kiss to his cheek the best she could before resting her head back on her arm, letting the pattern of JJ’s gate relax her, her eyes growing heavier by the second. She really did hope that when they were eighty, they didn’t lose any of their playfulness - no matter if JJ could carry her or not.

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becauseicantthinkwritings · 1 year

Text

Teeth

Part 6!

Werepanther!Billy Russo x Female Reader

Masterlist

Warnings: Nightmares, angst, fear, paranoia, a little bit of an injury, a whole lot of hand touching, voyeurism, male and female masturbation.

His entire office smelled like strawberries now.

He takes a breath, raises his right hand to his mouth and bites down on the crook of his index finger harshly.

The pain centers him, allows him to focus on something so that he could drown out the predator. The beast in his head that had been suggesting... awful things to him.

It wasn't in the form of words, the beast didn't use words.

No, he used an arsenal much more powerful, spitting imagery into Billy's head, pouring debauched ideas into his mind until he'd had to find an excuse to cut your meeting short, dropping the work contract into your hands a little too aggressively and telling you to leave it with his secretary by the end of the day, to text him if there were any further concerns.

Billy tilts his head back angrily.

She probably thinks I'm an asshole now, all because you felt like tormenting me, he thinks in the beast's direction.

The beast's only response, is to fill his head with further images of you, face down, ass up, while he buried his tongue in your dripping cunt.

Billy groans.

What would you taste like? The memory of seeing your wet fingers, pulled from your cunt after orgasm is still seared into his head.

Maybe he should give you a little show too?

The beast reminds him angrily about the words he'd said to you.

'I'm not interested..."

What a fucking joke.

He'd only wanted you safe, to have you in a position where he knew you were getting what you deserved. He didn't want you to be overlooked ever again.

The price? Had been his sanity.

Because now he'd have to have you right under his nose for the foreseeable future.

And not... under him... like he'd wanted from the minute he'd seen you.

He'd caught subtle scents of you in the forest before, but every time, he'd always just missed you. He'd spent near two years searching, and hoping to find you, haunted by the scent of you.

And then he'd found you, thankfully, blissfully, and you'd been so afraid.

Killing the hunter hadn't felt like enough, but it was all he could do, barely able to control himself when you'd been threatened.

He knew what he was capable of if someone tried to hurt you. He knew that he would go to the ends of the earth to keep you safe.

You tried to read the contract, but you could only think about him.

He'd gone through all that trouble to get you to come in today, to accept his job offer, and then he'd dismissed you so quickly? Palmed you off on his secretary like he couldn't be bothered to look at you?

It was just another mark in your book, a mental tally of the many displays of why he was not interested in you at all.

You shake your head, trying to get over it. You should not be thinking about your boss in that way.

His praise had meant so much to you, you'd gone home, almost happy that for the first time in your life, someone had really seen what you were capable of.

Regardless, you were glad to be here, because when you flipped to the very back, to the salary and benefits part of the contract- your heart pounded in your chest.

God, this was the price they paid experts in your field, and here you were with a salary offer that would make you a very comfortable person.

It made signing easy, even his cold attitude towards you made signing simple, because you had a boss that at the very least respected you, in a price range that you'd never thought you'd reach.

Anvil would be good for you.

Your face is buried in the panther's neck. He purrs when you brush a slow hand over him.

"You're so pretty." You whisper into his neck, you giggle when you feel him lick affectionately at your shoulder.

You finally raise your head, you look around, and you realise where you are.

Your anxiety spikes, you feel your heart racing in your chest as you try to gasp for air.

"This is... this is the forest where-" You can't finish the sentence.

It's daylight in your dream, but as the full realisation of where you are seeps in, night falls all around you.

You gasp, falling back, looking around. He was here, he was here somewhere looking at you.

He was going to kill you.

"No no no no no no no no" You cry, frantic, looking around in every direction, trying to peer into the darkness, trying to see the hunter.

Suddenly there's a roar from near you, and you spin in surprise.

The panther is there, looking at you, approaching you.

You reach out for him as he gets closer.

"I'm so scared." You whisper into his midnight fur, your body shaking from the fright.

"He's here somewhere, he's going to kill me. He promised." You sob helplessly into his fur.

The panther makes a low growling sound again. Instead of scaring you, it soothes you. You know that whatever is out there, can't get past the predator in your arms.

"I need to wake up." You whisper, and it gives you the strength to actually do so.

Your heart is slamming into your ribcage when you jerk awake. You're frozen in the blackness of the night, almost too petrified to move.

You reach a hand up, fingers gripping the pendant of your necklace, exploring the curves of it, allowing it to ease your fright.

You sit up, dried tears crust uncomfortably at the corners of your eyes, and you reach for your phone, to increase the brightness of your lights.

Hunched over, you try to catch your breath.

You check the time, two in the morning.

You would not be able to sleep for the rest of the night.

He wants to go to you.

He wants to hold you tight, run his fingers through your hair, kiss the top of your head and tell you that everything is okay.

He can see the lights are on, he catches your silhouette, sitting on one of your couches, sipping something, maybe tea.

He can almost feel it- the remants of your anxiety, refusing to be washed away, like a stain that does not leave.

You must have had a bad dream too, just like he did, watching you be so frightened, lovely face contorted in fear.

He wanted to go to you.

He couldn't.

"So when are you going to jump Mr. Big Dick?" Amy asks.

You almost spit your drink.

"You mean my boss?" You challenge, phone pressed to your ear as you pull the curtains back to let your house plant get some much needed sunlight.

"Mr. Big Dick Boss, him." She confirms.

"Never? He's- my boss?" You say matter-of-factly.

"Tragic. The next thing you'll tell me is that he doesn't like you."

"Because he doesn't?! Haven't we been talking about this same thing for weeks? He's not into me like that."

"Denial." She sings.

You grunt in anger.

"Anyway, do you know the answer to the other thing or not?" You ask, referring to the original inquiry you'd called her for.

"I don't know how much water your plant needs, Google it."

"Okay, but the leaves are turning a little yellow."

"Then give it more sunlight. It's a plant."

You sigh, touching the leaves of the palm affectionately.

"I guess I'll try to move it onto the balcony." You think out loud.

"See? You can solve your own problems."

"Amy, I don't know why I call you, you're literally zero help."

"And yet, you fix your problems while talking to me. Ungrateful."

You laugh.

"Thank you, love you, bye."

She repeats the words back to you before hanging up.

Which is how you find yourself struggling to shimmy a very heavy potted plant onto your balcony.

Honestly, how the hell was Dani able to lift this thing so easily? You slip a couple of times on the tiled floors as you try to gain leverage to move it.

You collapse into a little heap beside the plant, giving up, and after a moment, your phone rings.

You groan, sitting up, crawling across to the couch to grab it, dress swishing all around you, barely glancing at the contact before you swipe to answer.

"Hello?" You answer.

"It's kind of cute watching you struggle."

You stiffen, looking out of your window, finding B- William, standing in his kitchen looking at you. You relax when you realise it's only him.

When he sees you looking, he waves.

"That's a little sadistic, don't you think?" You respond, leaning against the couch, blowing at your hands which have become red and irritated from trying to move the heavy plant.

"I never said I wasn't a sadist, but, I think if you try any more you're going to hurt yourself- so I'm coming over."

"N- wait-" but you watch him end the call, turning away to head to his front door.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

You stand, running some cool water over the palms of your hands to soothe them.

You sigh when there's a gentle knock on your door.

"Who is it?" You call lightly.

"It's me." He answers through the door.

You unlatch the deadbolt and open the door with a smile, widening the door to let him in.

"Hey Mister Russo, what an unexpected surprise." Your voice is full of sarcasm.

He chuckles, sliding past the door.

"How are your hands?" He asks when you bump the door closed, and you raise your hands to show him the state of them.

They hurt a little, and they feel raw, but it's like the pain just vanishes when he takes your hands in his, bringing them up to his face to look at.

You feel your body throb in appreciation, the touch of his hands on yours is so electric that your core sparks to life with just the hint of a delicate touch from him.

You watch him take a deep breath.

"You should run them over some cool water." He says, nodding his head in the direction if your kitchen, and you nod, turning, and walking to the sink.

He follows, turning the tap on for you on a slow trickle, and when you look up at him, you find his eyes already on you.

"Better?" He asks.

A strand of your hair falls into your eyes when you nod your head.

He takes his time, carefully pushing it back, you body pulsing with heavy need.

Fuck. You wanted him.

What would be the harm in a single kiss? How badly could it fuck with your life?

"A little." You answer, looking down at your hands again.

"Maybe a balm? Something soothing?" He offers gently, his voice is so soft, you can't help leaning into him.

"I have aloe vera, in my bedroom. It's for sunburn, but-"

He nods.

"It should work."

You pull your hands from the water, and he turns the tap off, you watch him reach for a napkin, placing it gently into your hands to collect the droplets of water.

"Show me where?" He asks.

"M-my room's a little bit messy." You protest, and you watch him smile easily.

"Think I've never seen a messy room?" He tilts his head, studying you with his dark eyes.

You gulp, aching wet at this point, nodding along for him to follow you.

To your bedroom.

Aloe vera. Aloe vera. Aloe. Vera.

God your clit was pulsing.

Fuck, the sound of his slow breaths behind you sends tingles down your back.

At your door, you turn to look back at him. Understanding what you need, he leans in to open the door for you.

It's the first time you're so close to him, and you catch hints of his cologne, oak maybe, hints of black pepper, something sweet like jasmine.

It's such a unique scent, that you ache for more of it, you want to explore every note of the way he smells, desperate to find out through thorough exploration whether he tastes as good.

The aloe vera sun balm is in your top drawer, and when you realise what else is inside, you gulp, cheeks burning.

Your toy is wrapped in a cloth for protection, but when you reach for the drawer, his voice stops you.

"Let me." He says, and you look up at him in alarm.

Before you can tell him not to look, he brings his other hand up to his eyes, covers them, turns away, and you watch a little playful smile pull on his mouth.

He's magnificent, you think, in his sheer understanding of you, in his clear respect for your boundaries, in the boyish, almost shy way he smiles.

You wonder if anyone has ever seen him smile like that.

You grab the little bottle of aloe vera, telling him to close the drawer.

Only when the drawer is closed, does he open his eyes.

He raises a hand for the little bottle, and you look at those amazingly large hands.

God, who had allowed them to be so big? Long slender fingers, ending in well kept nails.

You once again think about taking his hand, but even worse thoughts fill your head now, his hand pressed to your breast, or cupping you-

You swallow, dropping the balm into his hand.

You sit yourself on the edge of your bed, and look up at him, expecting him to do the same.

He takes a sharp breath, and sits in the space beside you.

You watch him, uncap the bottle and pour a coin sized amount into the palm of his hand.

There's no reason why you couldn't do this yourself, but you take advantage of his desire to always want to help you.

You extend one hand to him, and your stomach tightens when his both hands cover one of yours.

You're so wet, you can feel it creating a little spot on the fabric of your underwear. It's embarrasing, that all he's really done is touch your hands, and your body is ready to take him.

"Does that feel better?" He asks, voice like silk over your skin.

You want to climb into his lap, you want to grip his shirt so tightly it hurts, you want to meld your mouth to his so that he never forgets it.

"Yes, much. Thank you." Is what you say instead.

His desire rages like a storm in his head. Turbulent winds and the crack of lightning, made worse by the predator, hammering away at his resolve.

He can blame the panther all he wants, but this time, he knows it's him just as much as it is the beast inside of him.

He can smell your arousal, your cunt calling out to him, a plea to be touched, to be sated, to be full, and Billy wants to give more than anything else.

He thinks about how easy it would be, to press you back, lay you out on your bed, spread your thighs.

He wants to press his nose to your clothed cunt, take deep breaths of that saccharine strawberry scent right from the source. He wants to tug your panties off, listen to the way you'd mewl as he buried his tongue between your thighs.

He thinks about it vividly as he rubs the aloe vera into the palms of your hands, he thinks about what your pussy would look like, the way you would taste. He'd never be able to satisfy the craving he had for you. One time could not possibly be enough.

The ways he would take you, bounce you on his cock, rut into you from behind, kiss the soft curves of your cheek as he slowly aquaints you with every inch of his aching cock-

"I think that should be good enough." You say, breaking into his terrible thoughts.

He nods, pulling his hands away, clenching them into fists in his lap, hoping to hide his erection.

"Show me where you want that plant moved?" He offers, with a tilt of his head.

You look up at him with such open eyes, nodding as you stand, guiding him out of your room.

The predator, eager to follow.

"Stay. Still." He whispers in your ear.

You moan into the cool air of the night.

You hear him chuckle, the fabric of your nightdress being pulled up to expose your thighs.

He hums when he realises you've forgone underwear, the backs of his fingers tracing over your thigh, cupping your bare cunt.

"Wonder how hard you'll scream when you come on my tongue?" He taunts.

"Please." You whisper, when one of his fingers press down on your aching bud.

"Shhh," He soothes, "Don't beg. You'll make it harder for me to resist you."

Your toes curl, you arch your hips to grind your aching center against his hand.

"Please, please please, I need you." You beg.

He swears, draws out the word, doesn't say anything else before lowering his body.

He pushes your legs apart, shoulders his way between, doesn't stop until his tongue is pressed securely to your clit.

He moans.

You roll your hips, desperate for the feeling of his tongue on you, little gasps and pitiful sounds leaving your throat.

You writhe, body tangled in the sheets, gasping.

His tongue makes slow, purposeful movements, his hands trace your skin, lighting up each nerve with sizzling bliss.

"No more teasing," You cry, "Please, I can't."

A sound of pity leaves his throat, hastens his tongue in apology. He doesn't want to torment you, he wants to please you.

"Yes. Yes. Billy-" You sigh, tossing your head from left to right.

Your body calls out to his, a shuddering breath, a broken sigh.

You're still shaking when you're pulled to consciousness, eyes are barely focused as a sliver of moonlight shines through the little gap in your curtains.

The orgasm is hollow, an echo of the real thing, you can barely wrap your head around the possibility that you just came in your sleep, thighs pressed together to garner some type of friction.

After a minute, movement catches your eye, you raise your head sleepily to investigate.

It's coming from his window, a dark silhouette framed by golden light.

You sit up, moving closer to the window, kneeling so that he doesn't see you peeking through the gap.

Your lips part in surprise.

He's leaning against his windowsill, and from the cut of his figure, he looks naked.

The back of his head is leaned against the window, his right arm moving up and down, revealing to you exactly what he's doing.

You can't see his cock, you can't see the expression on his face, but you can almost imagine it, and it's enough for you to snake your hand under your nightdress.

You whine, pressing your hot cheek to the cool window, pumping two of your fingers into your slippery cunt at the same pace as his hand.

The nails of your other hand grip your thigh, pretending its his, pretending you're with him, grinding yourself onto his cock.

"So good," You gasp, looking up at his silhouette, "cum for me." You beg him softly.

It's like he hears you, his body stiffening, shoulders shaking with the effort to breathe as his hand slows suddenly, indicating his state of release to you.

You sigh, forehead pressed to the chilled glass as you bring yourself to orgasm, thinking about him, breath misting on the surface of the window pane.

#werepanther!billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo #ben barnes #billy russo x female reader #my writings #the punisher #billy russo smut #monster!billyrusso #monster!billy russo #monster!billy #werepanther billy russo

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dr3amofagame · 3 months

Note

Sixteenth Day Event Prompt:

Anticipation & Survival

woo :D was able to participate this time with a little fic, hopefully this means i'll have the time to try and write more consistently again :') hope you guys enjoy 2.8k words of c!Dream being Normal and Fine and c!Sam being absolutely miserable.

---

The prison is working out well.

Dream spins the clock. The background is mostly a sunny blue sky, with the slightest creep of dark blue rotating in along the right. The sun is a bright dandelion yellow. It’s afternoon. Maybe two, three o’clock. He’s been tracking the days by sunset, when the clock is split in equal halves of blue and navy. Ranboo visits too, to corroborate the time, but it’s a good habit to keep track while he can. It’s been seven days. A whole week.

Besides Ranboo, there’s been one visit. Tommy. He’s seen three people, since being put in here. Tommy, Ranboo, and Sam. He’s eaten twenty potatoes. Counting is mundane, but so is everything now. There isn’t much to do in prison. Just sweat, and stare at lava, and stare at obsidian when that makes his eyes hurt, and wait for Sam to come in and check that he’s not been doing anything stupid, and wait for visitors, and eat and drink and sleep. It’s not a big room. He wouldn’t say it’s a particularly small one, either. The ceiling’s a little low, and there’s not anywhere to run, of course, but there’s plenty of room to pace and sit and lie down straight and he can sit down on the chest fine without hitting his head on stone. It’s not like he’ll need much space to carry out any plans in the foreseeable future. The cell is absent of certain comforts—a cot, for one, for obvious reasons—but once you get used to that, and the food, and the heat, it’s really not that bad. It’s not like he’s any stranger to roughing it.

From a certain point of view, it’s almost relaxing. Sam is predictable. Almost more of a clock than the clock he’s given him, which is half the reason Dream throws it in the lava at all; Sam is reliable. His reactions are reliable. He gets food delivered twice a day, once in the morning, once at night. The nightly visit is accompanied by questioning, and occasionally Sam comes into the cell around midday to interrogate him too. Dream cooperates. Why shouldn’t he? He’s already spilled his whole plan to everyone on the mountain, gloated to Tommy, who has surely run his mouth to everyone within earshot by now. There’s no point to him being cagey at this point; no, better to rave and rant about Tommy and exile and his plan in the mountain, better to let Sam get all the information he wants and watch his eyebrows knit in disgust. Sam raises his voice, Dream answers his questions, Sam storms off. He’s even started watching the clock, just out of curiosity, and Sam leaves his cell pretty much the same time every day. Clockwork.

There was one day when Sam didn’t come at all and Dream had—a moment, admittedly, embarrassing enough, just a string of disconnected thoughts about what would happen if the Warden of the prison suddenly dropped dead and died—but Sam had been right there the next day, looking more miserable than Dream has ever seen him. He made a quip about skipping work that made Sam snap at him; Dream takes it as a good sign, that the man guarding him seems to be more pained about the fact that he left him alone for a day than Dream was bothered about the disappearance of the single person responsible for every aspect of his life for the foreseeable future. That’s Sam, though. Dependable. Dedicated. Never one to not take his job seriously. If Dream put Sapnap in charge of the prison, he’d probably starve to death before the first month was up, but Sam looks like he’d rather fall on his own sword than leave Dream alone for a full twenty-four hours again; Dream has it in him to feel bad that he’s putting the guy to work for the sake of his own vacation. Just, a little bit.

Back to his point. The prison is relaxing. Really. It’s boring, sure, but obviously he expected that; he’s never had so little to do before. He wakes up at night (he’s been attempting to sleep at nighttime, just because the light apparently is supposed to mess with you, but his sleep schedule has been shot for months so it’s not like it really matters to him all that much) with his brain racing, grasping for a list of tasks to do, only to come up empty. It’s a bit of a marvel. He thinks it’s funny. Yeah, brain, he’s in his—vacation arc. They’re doing nothing. Absolutely nothing. Just like they planned. Nobody’s getting into this place to kill him, not without smacking face-first into, like, a billion security protocols, not without dealing with Sam’s workaholic Warden schtick on their ass. He’s even getting food hand-delivered to him. Full service! Or something.

He spins the clock again. Tommy gave him books to write. Sam flipped through them, asked questions, Dream answered. He’s not writing answers for them. He might throw them in the lava, if Sam doesn’t just confiscate the damn things; Dream knows he wants Tommy nowhere near him. Fair enough. Maybe he can write some long-ass manifesto about how much he wanted Tommy’s discs for Sam to chew on, if he gets bored enough. He laughs a little at the thought as he thinks it—okay, yeah, nah. He’s not at that point yet.

He lies down. Horizontal. The ground is hot, but everything’s hot, and he’s getting used to it at this point; better hot than cold, honestly. He’d rather sleep here than out in the snow. The ceiling is a plane of unbroken black stone. Dream raises his hand, splays out his fingers. His nails are starting to get long. Nothing to file them down with in here…teeth it is. Whatever. He lets his hand fall back to the ground, sighing. His eyes glance over at the clock.

Barely any time has passed. Still hours before Sam comes back. Dream bites back a low groan. Fine, fine, the boredom is getting to him. A little bit. He’s not surprised—it’s not like he’s ever done well with sitting still—but it’s still, annoying. He waves his arms and legs like he’s making a snow angel in the obsidian. Or doing jumping jacks. He should do jumping jacks, maybe. He’s got a basic workout routine to do daily—or several times a day, when there’s nothing else to do (there’s always nothing else to do, but whatever), but he’s not in the mood for it right now.

He clicks his tongue, just to hear himself. He talks to himself, sometimes, but he has to be careful what he says. Not that it’s not a good thing to keep up, though, for the madman routine. It’s much better to talk to himself when he knows he has an audience, muttering Tommy, Tommy, Tommy in those minutes before Sam enters his cell. Fun, even. Sometimes he writes out evil speeches to give in his notebooks, burning the pages in the lava before Sam arrives. He shouldn’t get reckless with it or anything, pushing the things too far past the point of absurdity, but at this point he could probably get away with saying—just about anything. He could blather on about how he wanted to keep Tommy in a cage and play his dumb little discs to him all day until he goes insane, and Sam would write all of that down in his—book with his face twisted up under his helm while Dream tries not to break down laughing and give away the whole ruse. Not that laughing doesn’t work out for him either, to be fair. He’s gotten pretty good at the villain laugh.

Dream stands up. He looks at the clock mounted in the item frame; the sliver of night sky on the right side has grown just slightly wider, enough to expose the slightest edge of one white-dotted star. Still hours before sunset. He pulls it off the wall, watching the background tick ever slowly forward. The gold gleams, polished to a mirror finish.

Sam’s craftsmanship is unmistakable, even with something as small as this. He almost feels bad for what he’s about to do.

He holds the clock up to the lava, keeping it in his hand for as long as he can handle it before the heat against his palm makes him shove it entirely under the flow, watching it disappear through strings of smoke. The crackling noise fades back into the normal hisses and pops after a few seconds; the smoke will linger for longer. Dream stands there, the lava’s heat at his face. It hurts his eyes to look at.

…whatever.

He backs away. Then claps, brushing his palms against each other. Clock’s been burned. Another item of his daily itinerary handled—not that he does this daily. Has to keep Sam on his toes, right? The crazy prisoner isn’t supposed to be the predictable one, not like the ever-punctual Warden. This is—important, he’s decided, for his image. Well, not important, maybe, but it’s calculated. Beneficial. Nobody sane takes the one thing they have in their cell and destroys it repeatedly for literally no reason. Sam’s prisoner, the crazy guy that was trying to take over the server, isn’t sane. No one questions why an insane guy tries to control everyone with a bunch of shit he doesn’t even have, why he thinks he can keep someone locked up in a two-by-one box with a couple of iron bars, why he listens to a guy threatening to kill himself when he can literally raise the dead. It’s all set dressing. Method acting. One or the other, or both; it’s not like he’s ever watched a real play in his life. All that matters is that everyone thinks he’s crazy because no one asks a crazy guy why he’s acting crazy, and crazy people do stuff like obsess over stupid pieces of vinyl and talk to themselves and destroy their own shit for no reason.

(Which probably makes Tommyinnit a crazy person, ha.)

Sam will come back. Soon. He will bring potatoes with him, and investigate the cell, and see the missing clock. He will complain. He will threaten Dream, rave about the destruction of prison property, telling him that he won’t replace it. He will question him about Tommy. And tomorrow morning, a new clock will be put in its place. Honestly, Sam would probably give himself an aneurysm if he had to look at the cell with one of its components missing. It seems like the kind of thing to bother him too much not to set straight. And tomorrow, maybe Dream will throw the clock into the lava again, and maybe he won’t. He’ll see.

He’s the one that decides, in the end.

—

Sam checks his comm again as he waits for the lava to fall, head already pounding. He’s had an on-and-off migraine ever since his night with the Egg, and the current wave shows no sign of abating any time soon. If he could have it his way, he’d be back in his bed, Fran curled up beside him, where it’s dark and quiet and comfortably cool instead of sweating half to death in a suffocating suit of full armor. Instead, he’s nursing a headache that only gets worse with every notification he reads off the log pulled up on his screen; he doesn’t even bother counting the string of [Dream tried to swm in lava] that appears under today’s date. The fact that it’s a seemingly longer list than the days previous does little to help his already bad mood.

He still has no idea what Dream hopes to achieve by doing this, besides attention. Not that Sam has even been trying to give him that, these days; he visits twice a day, once at 9 the morning and once at 6 in the afternoon, and then leaves the prisoner to himself. Sam doesn’t answer to him. He’s not going to get the same reaction he got the first time he pulled this stunt, when Sam had rushed into the cell in the middle of the night, heart in his throat after running halfway across the server, only to find Dream waiting for him in the middle of his cell with his mask smiling back mockingly. If he’s hoping to stir Sam into a panic again, he’s sorely mistaken. But still Dream continues. He’s probably just doing it to get a reaction out of him. He probably thinks that’s funny.

Dream is standing, waiting for him. Muttering to himself, he thinks he can hear. Sam pulls the lever for the bridge and steps on it, his sword in hand, wanting to get this visit over and done with as quickly as possible. He might sleep in the Warden’s quarters here, tonight, just to avoid the commute back to his base. Yeah, that sounds good. All he has to do is survive one conversation with Dream.

The prisoner has stopped talking to himself by the time Sam steps into the cell, lifting his chin as he looks at him.

“Hi, Sam.”

Sam makes a vague noise of acknowledgement, not more than a low grunt. His eyes scan the room from left to right, stopped prematurely by the sight of the empty item frame mounted on the wall. His headache grows exponentially worse in an instant, a stabbing pain hammering itself into the back of his skull. He grits his teeth.

He should’ve expected this. He knows he should’ve expected this.

“Prisoner.”

“Sam,” Dream replies, his smile audible in his voice. Sam closes his eyes, a prayer flitting across his overtaxed mind. God help him.

“Where’s your clock.” What’s the point of asking, even. Dream sways from foot to foot.

“I burned it?”

“Why did you do it. Again.” Dream shrugs. Sam steps forward, shoves him back. “Don’t be so dumb, Dream.”

The prisoner barely seems to react, his back hitting the wall. His voice is nearly sing-song. “Ohhh. I got you though.”

Sam wishes, not for the first time, that he didn’t have the work ethic that keeps him from coming into the cell drunk. Surely the prisoner cannot be any more infuriating to handle with the help of some alcohol. He holds the prisoner by his jaw and knocks his head back against the wall, gauntlet digging into the pale skin under the bottom edge of his mask.

“What is wrong with you!” Dream struggles, slightly. Sam kicks at his legs. “Don’t move. Answer my question.”

“Let go.”

“How many times have I told you not to burn the clock, Dream!” He knocks the back of his head against the wall, harder this time. The struggling stops. “Do you think it’s funny? I don’t have to replace your clock!”

Dream sounds a little dazed when he replies, arms crossed at his chest. “I just wanted to burn it. So I did.”

“That’s ridiculous. What is your problem.” He shakes his head by his jaw, once, then lets go, giving himself enough distance to swing a fist into Dream’s side, making him double over. He scoffs at the sight, anger white-hot. He knows he shouldn’t be letting the prisoner get to him. Knows that Dream is only doing this to mess with him, mess with him the same way he messes with everyone, trying to get into his head. His skull feels like it’s being split apart.

Dream stands up straight again. All Sam can see is the flat, smooth plane of his mask, that smile, unchanged. His hands, knotted into tight fists at his sides, shake. The heat pulsing behind his eyes feels like rage, and also almost feels like he’s going to cry.

He can’t do this. The realization is abrupt, but sure. Not tonight, not with this headache, not with Dream. He can’t go through the same song and dance, can’t sit here and examine the cell and give the prisoner his potatoes and go through questioning for an hour, can’t spend the rest of his night going over his words with a fine-toothed comb looking for the nuggets of truth hidden in the midst of the prisoner’s crazed ramblings. Hasn’t he done enough? For the whole server, for everyone, day after day he stands and faces the monster before him and day after day he stands strong; retreating now feels like weakness, but he can’t. He honestly, truly, can’t. He ignores the weight of the potatoes in his inventory and turns.

“Sam?” Dream speaks again when he’s reached the edge of the cell, sounding slightly winded. “What are you—?”

Sam pearls across the gap, slamming the lever to lower the lava wall as soon as his vision clears. Tomorrow, he will be the Warden of Pandora’s Vault. Tomorrow, he will stand toe-to-toe against the one he has been entrusted to keep and stand firm. Tomorrow, he will do as he must, as the one responsible for the survival of everyone and everything he holds dear.

Today, it’s just too much. He looks back to a wall of unbroken lava, only able to stare at it for a few seconds before turning away.

#my asks !!#writing !!#my writing :D #the sixteenth #sixteenthdayevent #everything is going fine. :)

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inkyvendingmachine · 4 months

Text

Mobs and Stalkers Season 4, Episode 3

💀 Call of Cthulhu: Haunted Hijinx Masterpost 💀 Call of Cthulhu Season Four Masterpost (Coming Soon)

Warning: This campaign is an edited version of a Call of Cthulhu scenario from the Tales of the Crescent City book. While a lot has been changed, there IS spoilers for it throughout these posts.

Who is this guy and why is he following us? Why are we following him?? Why are we interreacting with mobs again??? How does this keep happening to us?????

Art Credit: @inkdemonapologist : sketching + inking @inkyvendingmachine : concept + colouring

IT IS THE NEXT MORNING. EVERYONE WAKES UP AND NOBODY (who slept over at JDS) IS MISSING, OR DEAD.

THAT’S GREAT.

Bendy even slept on top of Jack during their slumber party, trying to give the same comfort as an Beans might give. It might’ve been weird otherwise, but after all the hectic nonsense going on and not being able to feel safe going home, in this case it was welcome.

Joey slept on his research notes.

But it is a work day (at least it’s friday,,,) so the cots are shuffled away before people start coming in and questioning the group about the spontaneous night in. And foreseeing this might be a future issue if stuff goes haywire and they have to hide out at JDS more, Joey takes the holiday opportunity to get everyone out of the office for a while. Enjoy New Years Eve off, go party! Also New Years, to recover from the party. And also… the day AFTER New Years, to do all the things you meant to do on New Years but you were recovering from the party!! Look how nice Joey Drew is, giving so many thoughtful days off. Nobody come back until Thursday or else.

While everyone else is getting some work done, Joey checks in on Norman who didn’t even call in. He seems fine, but he’s still adamant about staying at home. Okay you do you.

(Joey sends Susie to hang out with Norman, as his inside woman and also because the Norman vs. Susie perception of the world will be nice when more things just. C h a n g e.)

The team has two big leads for trying to find Alan Leroy: Chandler Kreel and Amanda Cornish. Both of them are apparently good friends with him, and with addresses in hand, they split up to try and track down the danged clarinetist that they probably need to get to.

Jack and Sammy drive downtown to a bunch of law offices with apartments above, searching for Amanda. They’re able to get to her door pretty easily, but Amanda isn’t the one who answers. Her sister does! Luckily Jack’s there to run introductions because otherwise Sam’s scowling face probably would have just been turned away at that point. Sitting in the waiting room, Amanda soon joins them and admits that the last time she saw Alan was at a christmas party they went to… but seems to be kind of standoffish about any other information.

After some more charming by Jack, it’s revealed that she thinks he might be in trouble with the mob, and uh, Sammy… looking the way he does……. Maybe made her think they were the mob?? But with confirmation that, no, they super aren’t the mob and in fact are trying to find Alan before he possibly gets in trouble with a mob or two, she’s a bit more relaxed. Something weird is happening, because Alan really doesn’t seem like the type to be in trouble with the mob. And the last weird thing she remembers happening with Alan was… well, he got freaked out over some book she gave him for the holidays!

What’s so scary about a book? It was a pretty interesting read, here she’ll go grab it for ya!!!

Sammy is looking away Sammy is looking away Sammy refuses to look in any direction near Amanda as she, indeed, brings out a little black book with the Yellow Sign on it.

Jack immediately feels it wiggle into his head. But at least he’s able to wrap up the conversation with her in a… semi-normal manner? While Sammy’s eyes, darting anywhere else, find a photo on the mantelpiece that features Alan Leroy and friends, hanging out at a party scrawled with the note: Skinner Place, May, 1934… and Sammy is CERTAIN he recognises the man.

Oddly, his clarinet in the photo is missing one of the extensions he'd expect for a professional player...…….

Joey and Henry take the brown Mercedes to check out Chandler Kreel, who luckily lives in a nice part of the city that feels like a Mercedes might be somewhat… less… easily noticeable.

He answers the door but seems extremely nervous, like Amanda was. Leroy is great! So good at clarinet you wouldn’t even know he was down a finger!! Also totally a swell guy who shouldn’t be in any trouble so why are you heeerree??

Through Joey’s uh, storytelling skills, and Henry's good calming daditude, they get the idea he’s a loyal friend who wants to make sure he’s helping his buddy and not handing over information to the mob or any other parties that might be after Alan… Which means, he probably has information on where Alan is. Since it’d be suspicious to just plain ask, Joey goes the heartfelt “please reach out to us we’re here to help,” direction and hands off contact information.

While returning to the car, Henry and Joey find someone oogling over it… and this time it’s not some girl trying to declare herself Henry’s lifelong love, but the pale-faced man in a black suit that’s been seen everywhere recently. Their conversation is short, as the man mentions looking for a “wandering player” that needs to be returned to his place, and he walks off after some vague threats about what happens if you are in his way. Or if you lie to him, don’t do that either.

His mask-like face doesn’t move while communicating any of this.

Henry tells Joey once they’re alone that he thinks that guy is Fowler. He has the same nervous fidget Fowler used to…

Jack and Sammy go to stop by Norman’s on the way back, and find that… his place is apparently a block down from where it used to be!!

GREAT!!!!

When he answers the door and is immediately and frantically questioned about this, he takes a look around and confirms, shrugging and simply stating “it seems like I’ve moved.”

He invites them in for a housewarming party.

Susie and Norman have been playing cards. There’s no updates on Avadon. Jack and Sammy update them about the few tidbits of information they’ve found, and Norman finds a piece of junk mail to hand off to Jack before they head out. Since… the address on there seems to have changed too, so if Norman ends up moving again, well… they’ll know where he is!

The four of them meet back up at JDS to exchange information about Alan Leroy, and also eject the yellow sign from Jack’s head asap. Sammy's still worked up about this clarinetist's missing E flat extension, but Joey dismisses this as old news -- obviously; he's missing a finger. Keep up, Sammy. Peter has kind of also met back up with them, leaving a message on Joey’s phone talking about sightings of the masked man going through some magic shops in the city. And the fact that despite all his digging, he really can’t find anything about where this Leroy guy came from…

Joey tries to call Peter back by memory and it doesn’t work. We’re not going to talk about the fact that Joey has Peter’s number memorized. Pulling out his phone book, indeed, Peter’s number on paper has changed and that one DOES work.

Before they get much of a conversation going at all, Joey hangs up on Peter to try something. Instead of dialing a number in, or looking one up… he just wills himself to dial a number in to call Alan Leroy.

It kiiiindaaa works.

Joey manages to call Alan Leroy’s phone, but the same servant picks up and insists that Alan hasn’t returned home. Joey hangs up on him.

Peter gets a call back. Okay so there’s those Magic Shops he wants to check out, and also he has a lead on the gangster guy who shot the gun during the charity event. To keep Peter from doing nonsense alone and probably being abducted to Carcosa, Jack and Joey decide to go with him to investigate magic shops, while Sammy and Henry uneasily go to the bar to find info on the gangster guy, once Sammy is reassured that this won’t be like last time and all he has to do is eavesdrop. This surely will only go well.

At the bar, Henry casually brings up the charity dinner shooting while trying to fish for information, and maybe he talks a little too much, because suddenly all eyes are on him. What! Sammy wasn’t doing any talking so Henry was just trying to… do….what Joey would do? Henry trying to do what Joey would do has never gone wrong before…

Sammy and Henry are in a mob car, only kind of against their will. They are escorted to a restaurant, where they meet the extremely average looking Italian mob boss, Johnny Nero, who wants to know what they know about this pale masked man. At first it seems like they’ve made another great terrible get-yourselves-kidnapped-by-a-mob mistake, but the boss seems surprisingly rattled, and after some grilling from Sammy, Nero admits that… he’s seen some stuff that shouldn’t be…

… and Sammy hits the nail on the head when he asks, have you seen the y͟el͜l͘ow sig̵n?

Henry steps in and decides to offer to help him… to get him on our side, and understand that we are not a threat to him, we’re simply trying to remove the same thing from the city. After some pressure, Nero is convinced, and goes through the extremely normal process of Henry writing eldritch symbols with his own blood to remove the sign from him. After the nightmare has been yeeted from his brain, Nero turns out to be a wee bit nicer: he gives us all the info he has, but insists that if we find whatever the pallid mask guy is looking for, to give it to him so he can use it to get the guy gone.

And then he kicks them out without even offering them a ride back to their car at the bar.

Wrow.

What an extremely average super not classy even mob boss.

That’s gonna get you a terrible review on yellowp my dude.

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, it’s time for

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*SHOPPING✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*~~!!

The first store is called Cool Jewel Skull. It has cool jewels and skulls. Surely that’s exactly what it says in the book, because it’s extremely not a legit shop, and Jack spends the entire walk to the next shop dunking on it to keep Joey's spirits up. They did find out that not just the Phantom but Leroy had been through it though!

The next stop is an apothecary, and it does seem a lot more actually occult stuff. The guy recognizes a photo of Leroy and confirms he came through looking for protective charms, but when he went to buy one, he dropped it upon touching it and immediately left?? Then the Pallid Mask guy came through later… Not much info on him, except that he was creepy, but we already knew that. The interesting thing is though, the charm that Leroy dropped? It has the same symbol on it that Henry uses to expel the yellow sign from people’s heads. So… weird that he didn’t take it with him…. And seemed allergic to it as well.

The three leave and try to go to the last shop on the list… but the address is missing from the paper now. Like… completely gone. Joey gets the great idea to try his “I'm going to will myself there” trick and closes his eyes, imagining a route to this store he’d never been to before, and giving Jack directions to drive there. Suddenly Jack slams on the brakes and manages to keep from completely smashing into… a man in a suit… and a pale mask…. There’s definitely a dent in the bumper now though, because Jack wasn’t that quick, and apparently a moving car is not more solid than this thing is.

Joey immediately starts cursing him out, but he insists that Joey called him?? before going around to the side of the car and opening the back seat door… where Peter is sitting. Not having this AT ALL, Joey tries to beat him out of the car with his cane, only to be thrown back against the dashboard.

With Jack frozen in terror and Peter having an oddly difficult time moving to even the other side of the car away from this pale jerk, Joey immediately decides he cAN AND WILL RIP THIS ASSHOLE OUT OF EXISTENCE.

And… somehow, it works.

It sure tears something into him alright, and manages to boot him out of the car, giving enough time for Joey to demand Jack step on it. And Jack, panic stricken, somehow manages to follow the command and at least not run into anything else as they drive off into the night – But just as he’s hit the gas pedal, he does feel the cold of both glass shards and … something else, as he gets touched by a hand smashing through the window in the last second.

Luckily Jack bought the first car on the market in the US that had safety glass so he’s not going to be fucked up much from this in the physical department, except for his wallet maybe.

Mentally though? Memories flood in…

memories of a time he visited a dream with his eyes closed, and almost had his head removed.

After they’re at a safe distance, a shaken Peter manages to pull the door closed.

And thank them.

#call of cthulhu: haunted hijinx #sammy lawrence #joey drew #henry stein #jack fain #susie campbell #norman polk #peter sunstram

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artists-ally · 7 months

Text

{Train Wreck} Azriel x Cassian!Sister {Pt. 2}

Why hello there my loves!!! There was so much positive response for that first part???? I cannot believe people genuinely enjoy my writing so much it makes me feel so appreciated! Anyway, here is part two! Enjoy!! Also, I promise other parts won't be this long, I got a little carried away 😅

Part 1

Word Count: 16,171 (totally should've made this two parts but... oh well)

Warnings: Modern AU, OFC, language, hurt/comfort, angst, arrest, drinking, gambling, mentions of trauma, trauma responses, panic attacks

Summary: As Ira gets settled in, there is a constant set of eyes on her from Cassian. He offers Ira a chance to make a good impression, but is bringing his train wreck of a sister to his annual charity event a good idea?

Tagging: @blessthepizzaman @cyrygher @librafairy @needylilgal022 @thelov3lybookworm @bubybubsters

~~~~~~

It has only been two days and I already want to push Cassian off a bridge.

His rules are in-fucking-sane. He won’t let me outside before eight, and wants me to be back by ten. There is no going outside unless I clear it with him first, tell him when I get wherever I’m going, and when I get back. I mean, how ridiculous can he get?

Apparently even more.

“And I will need you to sign this.”

Cassian slid a piece of paper across from me. In addition to the other one he gave me of the drafted fucking mandate. “Is this some kind of a joke?” It was an NDA.

“We–meaning Rhys, Az, and myself– have a very strict confidentiality agreement. Not only with ourselves but with our investors, lawyers, and employees. Since you are going to be living with me for the foreseeable future, you need to be a part of that. We are going to discuss business operations when you are around and you are not allowed to repeat them to anyone. Under any circumstances.”

“And who exactly am I going to be repeating all of these things to?”

Cassian shrugs, “I don’t know, and I really don’t care. You’re gonna make new friends, Ira. And we aren’t exactly a small town rodeo here, so people will know who we are and will want to know shit. So, sign here, and then you are free to go.”

“I’m hardly free, I feel like I’m back in juvy,” I whispered that last part for only me to hear, flicking the pen across the paper. “Happy?”

“Sure, I’m happy,” he rolled his eyes. “Oh, and before I forget, you’re coming out with us tonight.”

My ears perked up at that. Cass got up and I scurried after him, the dining room chair scratching on the floor. “Really? When? And for what?”

“Every year we have a fundraiser for our community,” Cassian explains as I quicken my pace to keep up with him. Fuck him and his long ass legs. “All the money we make from the auction, poker tournament, and bingo night are collected and donated to the city.”

“Bingo, really?”

“We have to appease the older crowd somehow,” Cassian shrugged, heading down a long hallway in his house. It was a lot more compact than Rhys and Feyre’s home, but equally as flamboyant. It was smooshed in a line of townhouses somewhere in the city. Cassian opened a door to a guest bedroom and led me to a closet. “Here are some of Nesta’s old dresses. A couple of Feyre’s too, and some of Mor’s.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed or not but I am not built like they are, Cass. What the hell am I supposed to do with those?”

“Figure it out,” he gave me an unamused smile. “You’re crafty, I’m sure you can make something work.”

He left me in the closet and I looked around. It has been years since I’ve worn anything other than jeans and a t-shirt, let alone a dress. The closest thing was the skirt I had borrowed from Mor a few days ago.

As I rummaged through, I slowly began to realize that none of these were going to fit. I was going to have to figure something out because who knew when the next time I could go out would be. And I was not going to miss this.

There were a couple of options, and when I tried them on, either the zipper in the back wouldn’t move or the sleeves wouldn’t fit over my shoulders. Sometimes the bust was too tight, but the waist was fine, or the other way around. I ripped more than a few on accident. My best bet was to find two similar colors and try and piece them together.

I snatched two black dresses and went back to my room. I looked at the pair of scissors on my desk and at the dresses. I hoped no one would need these one day.

My cuts were average and jagged, but I had plans to pin them together with some safety pins I found in a drawer. I cut off the skirt of one of them and made a slit to the hip. When I shimmied it on, I rolled over the hem and pinned it in place, making it as even as I could. The top would be… tricky.

I didn’t have a choice but to cut off the sleeves and make it completely strapless. And I had to cut a V in it so my boobs would fit. Normally I loved them, but right now they were my mortal fucking enemy– besides the law of course. It was tight across my ribs, but at least I could breathe. There was some good boning in the bodice so at least I wouldn’t flash anyone.

Not that I would mind, I needed some action. To blow off some steam since being reinstated with Cassian.

And there was little I could do to keep my thoughts away from Azriel. About blowing off some of my steam with him. And blowing him in general.

Fuck was he hot. I mean, it seemed impossible to have such an attractive group of people all in one spot, and then there was me. I wouldn’t ever say that I was ugly, but Mor and the others? Devastatingly gorgeous.

But that’s besides the point. Azriel has been around, but really never around. He’s here in the morning when I wake up, but never comes back until late at night. Which leaves me with little to no time to admire him. I can hear him come in since his room is right next to mine, but he never acknowledges me.

Probably for the better. Or worse, I haven't decided yet.

Azriel was secluded, I could gather that much. And from what Cassian told me he was– or had been– struggling through something. But what did that have to do with me? It wasn’t like I wanted to marry the guy, I just wanted him to rail me and then I’d be good. What's so harmful about that?

But don’t even get me started on the way he acts whenever he is around me. He’s kind of a prick, always making fun of the way I’m dressed or the way I wear my hair. Always has some rude remark that makes me want to punch that perfect face of his. And kiss it.

There is definitely something seriously wrong with me and my delusional thinking but I refuse to acknowledge it because it is the only coping mechanism I have developed that doesn’t involve me in handcuffs.

Now, if Azriel wanted to put me in handcuffs then-

“Ira?” Mor called from somewhere. “Where are you?”

“My room,” I mumbled around the roll of body tape in my mouth as I tried to lay the fabric over my bits to cover me up. “God fucking dammit.”

“Uh oh, Nesta isn’t going to be happy when she sees you mangled her engagement dress.”

“Her what?” Oh no, no no no Cassian is going to end me.

Mor burst out laughing and leaned up against the wall. “I’m just fucking with you. It was one of my old college sorority dresses. It’s no big deal, I didn’t even know I had that one still.”

“Oh, well… sorry. I wouldn’t have needed to if Cassian just took me somewhere to buy a dress,” I apologized, turning in the mirror. “What do you think?” “Cassian is going to hate it,” she smirked, looking over my shoulder.

“Perfect,” a grin of my own spreading. “Please tell me there is going to be alcohol at this event?”

“There always is, but whether or not you can have any isn’t up to me,” Mor put up her palms and sat down on the vanity stool. “I think it’s a bit ridiculous, what Cass is doing.” “Thank you,” I sighed out, taping the last bit into place and stretching to make sure it wouldn’t come loose. “Not that we know each other super well, but there are reasons why he should do it. Part of me knows he’s just doing it to keep me safe, but I also know its payback from years ago.” “Can I ask about you and him or is that just not something you're willing to share?” She asked, unlike Rhys or Azriel did. That in and of itself meant more to me than anything in the world.

Mor was nice, nicer than anyone I had ever come across. It’s who I spent a good chunk of my time with when she was here and not working at Midnight’s Shadow, Azriel’s club. We had built up a little bit of a relationship in the two days since she was the only one who bothered to ask for my number.

“It’s really fucking complicated. I was about 14 when he left? I think? I don’t know, it doesn’t matter. But I heard him in his room and then he was…” I shook my head, that sting in my throat coming back like it did every time I talked about it. “It wouldn’t have bothered me so much if he had just fucking told me.”

“He didn’t even give you a heads up?” I shook my head. “What the fuck?”

I just shrugged. “It’s fine. I’m over it.” Definitely not over it. “And I don’t want anything I tell you about him to change your perception. I’m sure he’s a much different person now.” “That’s exactly it, though. He is such a family person, so to speak, that it kind of shocks me. He loves getting us together and doing card nights with movies. To hear he acted like that? For fucks sake Ira I didn’t even know you existed… It’s hard to think anything but differently about him.”

I bit back the tears. Card nights and movies? That's what we used to do together. She didn’t need to see me cry, and I didn’t want her to either. “It’s not his fault. I don’t blame him for not mentioning me. There isn’t much to talk about.”

“Why would you say that?” Mor said politely, “share what you want, I don’t want to overstep.”

I fiddled with my fingers. Playing with the devil's on my shoulders. Should I just bite the bullet and get it over with? I just sighed. “When he left I had a lot of issues. A really hard time coping with it all. I made some pretty awful decisions and ended up in a correctional facility. Not really juvy, but not really not juvy if that makes sense? I don’t know if he even knows about it at all. Nothing good happened after he left and… I don’t really know. I do, but-”

“Ira,” Mor said in a very soft tone. Like she was trying to keep from scaring a wounded kitten. “You share when you’re ready. And I will listen.”

I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think clearly as tears clouded my eyes. Mor stood up and came to a halt in front of me. “You’re gonna get through this, Ira. It’s gonna fucking suck, and I don’t think you’re gonna find someone who understands that more than I do. When I was-”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Shh,” she hissed, and I sealed my lips, a smile spreading across the pressed line. “I am a one-for-one person. You give, I give. You take and I take. I know there aren’t many people in this world you trust, so let me make it a little easier for you.”

I just nodded.

“When I was younger, I also made some mistakes. Got involved with the wrong group of people and ended up paying the price. It took me years to get over and I wasn’t sure that it was ever going to get better. Or that I’d ever be able to trust people blindly again. Then I met Rhys and he lent a helping hand. And, believe it or not, your brother made a huge difference in my life.”

“You’ve gotta be joking,” I snickered. “Nope,” she shook her head. “When he’s not entangled in work he can actually be a really fucking good time.”

“That somehow doesn’t surprise me at all.”

“What I’m trying to get at is everyone here has had some shit to deal with in their life.” She took my hands in hers. “Rhys was on the verge of bankruptcy, Feyre had to drop out of art school to take care of Nyx… we’re basically a refuge for misfits. You’re gonna fit right in. Now, enough with the heart-to-heart, you and I are going to go get our nails done.”

“We are?” I couldn’t help but let a tear slip through, and I sniffled. “I have to ask Cassian.” “He is so overbearing I swear,” Mor looked to the sky and cursed. “You get out of this and I’ll go talk to him.”

“Okay,” I squeezed her hands before she left. I know I told myself to not get attached to her, but fuck was she making it hard. As much as I want to fall into her arms for telling me everything was gonna be alright, that wasn’t realistic. And she wasn’t my fucking mother, and I wasn’t five. She didn’t need to shoulder my burdens. It wasn’t her job.

She’s just being nice. She’s just being nice.

I ripped the top off my chest– quite literally– and laid it out on the bed to wear for later. After I had gotten changed, I met Mor downstairs where she was talking with Cassian. I tried to slip past them to the kitchen but-

“Ira,” Cassian shouted. Dammit. “Come here.”

“Yes, Colonel Sanders?”

“Stop calling me Colonel Sanders,” he rolled his eyes. Mor snickered and Cassian glared. “Why didn’t I know beforehand that you wanted to go out?”

“It wasn’t her idea, Cass,” Mor countered. “I told you that.” “Seriously, I had no idea until she just came up,” I tried to express it as genuinely as I could. Unfortunately, another skill I had developed was seeming extremely genuine when I couldn’t give two shits.

“You’re gonna go with her?”

“Yes, dumbass. I am the one taking her,” Mor smacked the back of his head. “We’ll be back in two hours.”

“Fine,” Cassian pinched his nose.

“On second thought, maybe three. She needs some shoes to match that… new dress.”

“Do I even want to know?” “Nope,” Mor and I said at the same time, and we bounced out of there as fast as we could before Cassian could change his mind. She walked to a shiny, obviously just washed Mercedes SL Roadster. Navy blue with light gray interiors. Convertible. H.O.T.

“Okay, this car is sick.” I was basically foaming at the mouth. “What's the top speed you’ve reached in this thing?”

“The speed limit,” she winked, but mouthed a hundred and twelve. “We have an appointment to catch, but on the way back I’ll drive the back roads and give you a taste of the wind.”

I climbed in and sank into the seat. This car was comfier than my bed. Not that that was surprising, I was basically sleeping on a cardboard box. When I asked for Cassian's room, I should’ve specified that I wanted his room at his house. Not the one he occasionally slept in. But I guess he and Nesta needed the space.

Boy were they bad at being subtle in the middle of the night.

I need to make a list of things to get and double underline earplugs.

Mor must’ve been a local celebrity with the way the salon employees greeted her and offered her a seat right away.

“Who have you brought with you?”

“This is Ira, my good friend's sister. She’s staying with us for a while and we have the charity event at the casino tonight so I thought we should make a whole day out of it,” Mor smiled, scanning the wall of nail polish.

“Oh how fun. I’m Claire, Mor’s nail tech,” the lady introduced. “Please, take a seat and let's see what we can do for you this time around.”

On the way over I had looked up some nail inspo on Pinterest. Mor told me, word for word, to ‘get whatever the fuck I wanted’ because it was her treat and she’s always wanted a little sister to spoil and pamper. I wasn’t sure how that made me feel, but I think I liked it.

I pulled up the picture on my phone: medium length but very pointy. The accent nail was matte black, the others a shiny, deep maroon that faded into black at the tips. Those also got a sparkly topcoat and some crystals on the accent nail. I had a vision to do a dark smokey-winged eyeliner look with some ombre lips to match the nails.

Very classy but a little bit of ‘fuck with me and you’ll regret it’ vibe.

I watched intently as the technician, Melinda, carefully crafts the nails. How these people did this I’ll never know. The powder seemed like a fucking struggle. She started telling me something about the liquid-to-powder-ratio and my brain left the conversation. Very underrated artists for sure.

“So, what do you want to do with your hair?” Mor asked, bending her fingers to look at the pretty coral color on her nails. They were super shiny, almost a chrome finish.

“I saw this picture of a shaggy kind of french twist? I think I could figure it out,” I shrugged, looking at my nails before sticking them under the curing lamp. “What about you?”

“I’m just gonna curl it,” she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “Oh, don’t forget to remind me about the shoes.” “No, it’s fine. I have some different options. This is more than enough.” I had seen the prices of the manicure package. It included a full manicure plus a full set of nails. And it was not cheap.

“Ira-”

“Please, Mor,” I let out a nervous laugh. I cut it off almost immediately. I cannot start doing the Dana thing. “I don’t need the shoes. This is perfect.”

She just nodded, letting it go.

Thank. God. I did not have time to get into the whole underprivileged child thing. Where it made me feel sick to my stomach to not only ask for something, but to have people offer it knowing full well that I did want it, but would deny every offer. It made me feel guilty because I should be grateful for what I do have. I didn’t need it, but I still wanted it. A feeling somewhere between pity and desperation.

I didn’t want people to feel bad for me, but I just wanted someone to care. To understand even a little bit.

Trauma was such a weird, twisted thing.

“Do you want to add the sparkly top coat or just the shiny one?” Melinda asked, twisting the two bottles in her hands.

I thought. Looked at the nails, then at the polishes. “Fuck it, let’s do the sparkly one.”

She chuckled, tapping the bottle against her palm. “It’s what I would’ve gone with too.”

“Those are literally so gorgeous,” Mor leaned over. Hers were done and she was sucking on a lollipop. “You’ve got an eye for this kind of thing, don’t you?” “Always a dreamer, never the dream,” I batted my lashes playfully, sighing as if I were in a daze. “I think I’ve always liked this kind of stuff, I’ve just never had access to it until now.”

Mor patted the top of my head before saying she was going to pay up front.

“So, Mor said that she’s good friends with your brother?”

“Mhm,” I nodded, palms instantly going a little clammy. “Yeah we recently reconnected after about six years.”

“Oh, how wonderful!”

That’s one way to put it. “Yeah, I missed him. Probably more than I ever let myself think before. I spent a lot of time being angry at him.”

“Well, my dear, it is never too late. The two of you may have been going your separate ways, but it’s never too late to turn around. It’s only too late if one of you is left standing and the other isn’t.”’

Okay, did Mor accidentally make some last minute edition to the manicure package that included an overly inspirational surprise? I was not expecting that. But now that I was thinking about it… it was like Cassian and I were standing on two opposite ends of a bridge. The constant rumble for the past lurking in the darkness below. Always there. I could see him, barely, but that everlasting presence was there; a cloud of fear and worry that we wouldn’t ever get past or differences blocked my path to him.

Why couldn’t I just forgive people? Why did I have to hold grudges and make things complicated? I was wired so differently than most people. Like here I was, with Mor at this incredible nail salon and all I could think about was how much money she was spending on me. Why couldn’t I just be excited for my first real set of nails? Or thankful that Mor never made any type of facial expression over how expensive all of this was?

Dana and Arthur always made the same face when something was expensive, and I could pick up on it after only seeing it twice. Then I subconsciously– totally consciously– made the effort to pick less expensive options.

It’s in the same category of responses when I hear them coming down the hall and I have the overwhelming feeling of needing to look busy because I simply just don’t know how to relax.

Staking on constant alert was so fucking exhausting.

By the time I snapped back into reality my nails were done and she was wiping down her station. “Thank you, Melinda. They’re beautiful,” I smiled sweetly, taking the few dollars I had shoved haphazardly into my pocket and giving them to her. “I know it’s not much but-”

“Nonsense. The gesture is much appreciated but please keep it, dear. You are welcome back here whenever you’d like. You too, Morrigan!”

“Next time I will bring some of Elain’s cookies for you!” Mor called from behind the counter. “I’ll see you soon, Claire!”

“Bye girls!”

I could not stop looking at my nails. Could not stop pressing them against my palms or trying to do things without messing them up.

“You’ll get used to it,” Mor laughed when I tried to re-tie my hair up in a ponytail.

“I’m more worried that I’m gonna stab myself. Or that I’m- fuck. I have contacts in. How the hell am I gonna get my contacts out?” I pressed the pad of my finger against the underside of my lashes and pried my eyelid up. “This is gonna end with me in the ER.”

_____

All thoughts of doing my hair went out the window. I severely overestimated how well I’d be able to function with these daggers attached to the tips of my fingers. By the time we got back it was already three o’clock. Cassian told me to be ready by four-thirty. Lovely.

I rushed a brush through my hair and took some of my moose and tried to get the mop of curls to curl. Whoever gave me this hair deserves the death penalty. Whether it came from my mom or dad, I didn’t know, but we were gonna have a problem if we ever met in person.

I eventually found a way to pin it up to where it kind of looked nice. It was as good as it was going to get. I only had forty minutes to get my makeup done and into the dress.

The tape stuck– hallelujah– and I shifted the skirt around until my leg was exposed in the slit. Again, it was as good as it was going to get. I probably would’ve been better off with the skirt and just putting on a bralette or something on top.

Oh well, it’s already on and I don’t have time to fuck around.

For once my makeup went on smoothly and looked sleek and clean. And the lips to match the nails? Nail on the fucking head with that move.

I did actually have shoes to wear and they were some nice platforms. One of the nicest things I owned. Totally didn’t steal them from a girl in high school when I crashed junior prom. To be fair she deserved it. She’s the bitch that ratted me out, it was quite literally the least I could do to fuck with her.

Again, petty crimes.

Very fucking petty.

“Ira, it’s time to go!” Cassian’s obnoxious voice boomed up the stairs.

“Jesus okay,” I shouted back, collecting my jewelry and deciding I could put it on in the car. I came clunking down the stairs and everyone was already at the door. Another thing that made me feel like I’m suffocating? Running late. And I was always running late.

All eyes were on me. Cassian looked like he wanted to suffocate and die, Nesta looking pretty indifferent. Azriel was on his phone.

“You’ve gotta be- you know what, this is my night. Just get in the car. I’m only going to say this once but Ira… please just be on your best behavior.” Cassian dragged a hand down his face, shaking his head as he looked at me.

It wasn't my intention to be a problem tonight, I didn’t want my fleeting moments of freedom to be revoked. So I complied.

Cassian looked pretty good, all things considered. He was in a tux with a bowtie, Nesta in a very elegant yet stylish slip dress. Mint green to match Cassian’s bowtie. Azriel was… Don’t look at Azriel. Do. Not. Look.

“Fine. But what’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

“It’s a charity event, not a strip tease,” Cassian said in pure disgust.

“Well if you had just let me out of the house to go dress shopping then I wouldn’t have had to look like this. But, need I remind you that this is my fucking body and I can do whatever the hell I want with it. Why do you care how I’m dressed?”

“Down, girl,” Azriel mumbled from behind me. I whirled around so fast and he was right fucking there already.

Did he just say ‘down girl’ like I was some fucking dog?

“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?” I may have been at least five inches shorter than he was, even in heels, but that was not going to stop me.

“Well I certainly wouldn’t talk to Nesta that way, she’d make me sleep outside,” He ran a hand over his cleanly shaven jaw. “And last time I checked Cassian wasn’t a girl so… I guess that leaves you.”

“Keep my name out of your fucking mouth or you’ll regret it.”

“Okay, cool it you guys,” Cassian grabbed onto my arm, but I yanked it away immediately.

“Yeah, cool it, Ira,” Azril mocked, somewhere between a laugh and a snort.

Fury blinded me and I turned around to face Cassian. “So you’re just gonna let him talk to me like that?”

Cassian just blinked at me. “You're more than capable of defending yourself, Ira. And I don’t want to get in the middle of this. Not today.”

“I think what he’s saying is that he’s not at your beck and call. More of the other way around,” Azriel said in a very condescending voice.

“Do you really want to keep pushing my buttons? Because I don’t think you do,” I took another step towards him, eyes narrow and nostrils flared. I was not about to let this self-centered son of a bitch walk all over me.

No matter how pretty he was. I had some morals. Not a lot, but some.

“And do what, hmm? Who are you gonna tattle on me to?” Another step closer.

“I think my knee between your legs would certainly leave more than a lasting impression on what I am capable of doing.” I matched his step stride for stride.

Azriel grinned. "You have no self control, you can't help but pick a fight, can you? It's like it's all you know how to do."

“Alright enough,” Cassian stepped between us, pressing his hand against Azriel’s chest. “Az?”

“Yes?” His eyes never left mine.

“Back the fuck off. Don’t ever think it’s okay to talk to my sister like that again.” Woah. Not expecting that. I’ve never seen him leer at someone like he did at Azriel. Then that gaze turned on me. “And you, what was the one thing I asked?”

I could’ve sent him through the fucking gravel. “He started it.”

“You’re bickering like third graders,” Nesta shouted over her shoulder. “Please spare the rest of the fucking neighborhood and get in the fucking car or we’re going to be late.”

“Leave each other alone. There, happy?” Cassian cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. All I could do was bite my tongue and shake my head in disbelief.

“Prick,” I held back the urge to spit at Azriel's feet. I went for the car Nesta got in, telling myself to pick and choose my battles.

“Aww, you don’t want to ride with me, princess?” He called out, and I flipped him off.

“Do not provoke her,” I heard Cassian say. “Don’t make this harder than it’s already going to be.”

What the fuck did that mean? I didn’t intentionally want to make this a rough night for him. But now? I was thinking very differently as to how this night would go.

“Ira,” Nesta turned around in the front seat while I buckled myself in. “Whatever you’re thinking, don’t.”

I just folded my arms across my chest. “Easy for you to say. I mean, how do you even stand the guy? He is such a fucking-”

“Douchebag? Oh, I’m well aware,” she chuckled. “But this is his event. His project that he spends months planning and sending out invitations for. I won’t pretend like I know what the fuck happened between the two of you, and I’m not going to ask because it’s your business and I really don’t care. But for my sake, don’t do anything stupid.”

Harsh, but I got the message. I stayed quiet as we pulled out and onto the road. The air was thick with tension and I just wanted to get out of the fucking car with both of them. Even if that meant being attached to him all night.

Despite the treacherous waters, excitement and butterflies fluttered my stomach as we hit the highway and I could see some city lights in the distance.

“Okay, a few rules,” Cassian eventually said after turning down the volume on the radio.

“Great, another leash,” I sighed.

Cassian and I met eyes in the mirror. He was really not having it. I bit my tongue.

“I’m gonna give you a chance, Ira. I don’t want to force you to my hip all night simply because I just don’t. You can be in whatever room I’m in, but wherever I go next, you have to be there. And I don’t care if you’re drinking some, but please don’t get wasted. Keep a low profile.” “Done,” I smiled, nodding along.

“I cannot believe I’m going to say this but… try to have fun? Meet some people and whatnot. Just behave. That is all I am asking.” Heavy emphasis on all.

“I will,” I nodded. I’d try anyway. But if there was going to be tequila, then well… that’s a different story.

___

We arrive and valet the car. Velaris Nights Hotel and Casino shined bright in my eyes. I looked around and Midnight’s Shadow was right across the street. Hopefully that Azzhole would stay there. I giggled, Azzhole. I’m so funny.

I walked up behind Cassian and Nesta. Apparently I wasn’t close enough with them for the security guard to think I was at their party.

“Ma’m, the event doesn't start for another hour,” he put his hand out to stop me.

“Oh, no I’m with-”

“She’s with me, Derrick. This is my sister Ira,” Cassian introduced and the guard gulped.

“Apologies, sir. A pleasure, Ira. If there is anything you need, come and find me. Sorry for the confusion.”

Okay, now that was cool as fuck. I guess that’s the kind of reaction you get when your brother operates the whole fucking thing. That kind of connection could be fun.

On the way over he told me that he, along with another one of his friends, was the pit boss. The other one– Amy or Amanda or something– was already here. Apparently they were some pretty A-list celebs around here. The party was scheduled for six and they needed to be here before the chaos started.

“Not cool enough to get in here, princess?”

My stomach rolled at the sound of his voice. “Piss off, Azzhole.”

“Azzhole, really?” His brows furrowed and a smirk spread over his full lips. “Be original, sweetheart.”

“Wanna see how original I can be?” I fell into step beside him. “How about you’re a predictable, conceited, arrogant-”

“You forgot cocky,” he butted in. “And handsome. I’m very handsome.”

“Egotistical,” I listed off. “Like I said, you’re predictable. And I wouldn’t flatter yourself, sweetheart.”

“I’d hardly call it flattering, more of a confidence booster. Three days in town and you think you have me all figured out? Care to bestow some more wisdom on me, your majesty?”

“Please, the last thing I want to do is have to hear the agitating sound of your voice for the rest of the night. Piss off, will you?” I scoffed, adjusting the choker on my neck.

“Don’t worry, princess,” Azriel bent down to talk in my ear. “I think we got off on the wrong foot. You’ll find out that I can be a lot of fun. If you ever let your guard down, we might even be able to have a good time.”

“Yeah because my brother would be so thrilled about us spending time together.”

Azriel shrugged. “What he doesn’t know won’t kill him.”

Now, I know I heard that incorrectly. But before I could open my mouth to respond, he plucked a champagne flute off a tray and raised it in the air before downing it in one go.

I finally allowed myself to look at him when he walked away. He was dressed in all black; black button up, black slacks, black dress shoes and a black belt. And a silver watch on his left wrist. In another world I might’ve thought that we looked like we could go together, but that was galaxies away. God his back and shoulders…

His ass. He was dangerous. Probably in more ways then one, and fuck did I want to find out all of them.

As I made my way over to Cassian, Mor ambushed me and had a bright smile on her face.

“Hey you,” she greeted. “Don’t you look good.”

“Thanks. I love that dress. The corset top is perfect.” It was coral colored to match her nails. The structured bodice had sheer paneling and a floor length skirt. Her blond hair was in curls and she had on some wicked eyeliner.

“It was a pain in the ass to get into. Where’s Cassian? I need to ask him if he wants me on the floor or up with Amren keeping an eye on things.”

Amren, that’s her name. The other pit boss apparently. “He’s over there talking with someone.”

Mor nodded, grabbing some champagne for me and her. “Loosen up, babe. You’re stiffer than an iron pole.”

“I’m not stiff.” I was so fucking stiff. This place was a playground for adults, and I had just turned twenty-one. My mind was running rampant with thoughts.

“Okay, you’re not stiff. And I’m ShaquilleO’Neal,” Mor teased, linking her elbow with mine.

We made our way over to Cassian and Rhys who were talking with this ginger guy. He had long, fiery red hair and a scar running the length of his face through his eye. He was also quite stunning. I don’t know what’s in the water here but I think I need some.

“Ah, this is her. Lucien, this is Cassian’s sister Ira,” Rhys extended his hand to me, gesturing like I was some higher up.

“A pleasure,” Lucien inclined his head. “I am one of the business investors for the hotel.”

“Ahh,” I said. What the fuck am I supposed to say to that? I don’t know how to talk to these people. So I just stayed quiet. Cassian’s words rattling in the back of my head: keep a low profile.

“I’m not sure that I knew you had a sister,” Lucien looked me head to toe. “I can see it, though. Same eyes, same nose.”

Here we go again.

“I’ve been getting that non-stop since I showed up here,” I scoffed. “I mean could we really look that similar?”

“Well, we are related,” Cassian laid his arm across my shoulders. “You’ve grown into it, Ira. Dana had always thought that we’d look more alike as we got older.”

“It, by no means, is meant as a shot at your beauty, Ira,” Lucien’s lip curled up. “You look lovely tonight.”

He reached for my hand and gave the back of it a kiss. If my eyes weren’t nearly falling out of my skull, I might’ve accidentally done the same to him. Thank god I did not kiss the back of his fucking hand. His massive hand, might I add.

Lucien most definitely wasn’t my type. He had his life together and looked like a good person. I was far too erratic and damaged to be of any good to him. But if he was suggesting something…

“Oh, uhh thanks.” Oh, uhh thanks? Did you just get fucking electrocuted, Ira? “I like your suit, it compliments your hair very nicely.”

That wasn’t a lie. He had on a hunter green blazer and a black vest with a black tie. There was one braid running along the side of his scalp, down the side of his face and behind his ear. The rest of it flopped over the opposite side of his head.

“I think I’m gonna like you, Ira,” Lucien smiled, pointing at me. “See, she likes my suit. Why’d you give me hell for it?”

“Because you look like a stick of celery,” Cassian was very obviously in a mood.

“I do not,” Lucien rolled his eyes. “It’s too dark of a green to be celery.”

“Potato potato,” Mor shook her head.

“Don’t be rude,” I said to Cassian. “If he’s confident wearing it, who are you to squash that for him?”

All eyes looked at me and our little circle went quiet. Welp… fuck.

“Can I get you a drink?” Lucien asked me, clearing his throat.

“Yes.” “No,” Cassian and I said together. I glared at him so hard I thought he’d burst into flames. “I’ll find you later, Lucien.”

Cock blocker.

I gave a sorrowful look at Lucien when he walked away. Cassian was still focused on me, but the second he got pulled into another conversation I winked at Lucien. He smiled back.

I looked around at the main lobby. There was a full chandelier sparkling above me, and some stone pillars going from the floor up into the ceiling. The black marble floor reflected all the lights, much the same with the counter top of the bar.

Who knew a bunch of boys could design something so intricate and delicate. They probably had to consult Mor. Or Feyre, more likely. I liked the touch of silver here and there within some of the statues and decorations. The balloon arch was a little cheesy though.

I ditched Cassian and took a lap around the room, just surveying the crowd. I could feel his eyes on me every turn I took. Whatever. I guess this would be my one shot at proving that I could behave and control my impulsions. Anything to prove his ass wrong.

The champagne was weirdly sweet and smelled like roses. But it was alcohol and I was fine with that. There was a series of tables lined up at the side, but no food or anything on them yet. I guess they’d bring it out closer to the guests arriving? I had so many questions that I wanted answers to. Mainly what the actual fuck is Cassian doing running a fucking casino?

By the time I made it back around the room, I snagged another flute off the tray of a passing by waiter and stuck the empty one in its place. This one tasted much better. Across the room my eyes landed on Azriel. He was talking with a group of people who looked mildly afraid of him.

He stuck out like a sore thumb. Everything about him screamed unapproachable. All hard lines and defined muscles. There was nothing soft about him, and I was also very very fine with that.

Everyone else was wearing full tuxedos or gowns. But he was just in a button down shirt and slacks. Which fit cruelly tight on him. Showing off a toned physique. And his amazing backside.

My finger tapped against the glass with all the thoughts I was having of him. About his hands on me and his mouth on mine. Do I have any idea as to why I’m so ready to drop to my knees for this guy, absolutely not. He would have one hell of a blow job though. It wouldn’t ever happen, mostly because I think Cassian has already snuck a camera in my room to make sure it didn’t.

Voyeur.

Mor apprached Azriel, coral gown catching the attention of several other people. She stuck herself right at his side, his arm falling across her back.

Oh, fuck.

I watched more intently than I ever had. Were they a thing and I didn’t know it? It would make a lot of fucking sense. I mean, look at them. He’s hot, she’s hot and I don’t even swing that way. I’d be an idiot to not notice and appreciate Mor’s beauty.

They looked like exact opposites, yet somehow they seemed to fit seamlessly together. Her shoulder lined up with his, her hip to his.

My heart fucking ached. For no other reason than I was jealous he was touching her and not me. It made absolutely no sense considering I wanted to burn him from the inside out. He was an ass. But if they were a thing… I can’t fuck that up. I mean, I could if I wanted to, but Mor had been nothing but nice to me.

For the second time in two days I found myself acknowledging that she was a good person. A great one. That she did not need to be involved with me and my bullshit. Azriel may have been a gigantic bitch, but I didn’t want to cut ties with Mor just because I had irrational feelings for him. That would not be fair for her. Or myself.

Am I actually talking myself out of a bad idea? Wow that’s… new. Normally I acted instantly on every idea I had. Good or bad. Since when did I debate with myself?

I washed down the feelings with the rest of the champagne and headed to the bar, perching myself on a stool while I waited for someone to show up.

Not longer than five minutes passed when I felt a presence behind me. It was Lucien.

“Hey,” I smiled, a genuine one.

“I waited until the coast was clear,” he grinned, sliding into the spot next to me.

“Cassian is just a pussy,” I rolled my eyes, finding him easily across the room. He was a head and a half taller than anyone. Lucien snorted, covering his mouth with his fist. “It’s true.”

“I don’t disagree, but he is my main business partner and I do not want to get off that list because there are dozens waiting in line to have the business that I do.”

“You said you’re an investor? What exactly does that mean?” I hoped he wasn’t about to man-splane things to me. I wasn’t a genius by any means, but I didn’t want to be talked to like a child.

“If they need money for construction, or for a new stock, that’s where I come in,” Lucien explained. “They first came to me with the outline of the business and I knew it was going to take off right away. There isn’t a whole lot in this city besides rich people and their fat pockets. What better way to bring a city to life than to build something that can bring people in.”

“So you are basically their personal bank?”

“No,” he chuckled. “Not exactly. Yes, I have the money, but it is more so my advice they come looking for the most. Sure I could write checks all day, but you can’t buy good, quality financial and business advice.” “Have you ever heard of Zoltar?” I laughed, noticing the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled.

“If you’re referring to the genie in a plexiglass box that takes coins in exchange for fixed fortunes, then yes I have. But I don’t think he’s going to be putting me or your brother out of business any time soon.”

I nodded along, pleasantly surprised by his professionalism. He surely knew what he was talking about. Not like I could confirm if it was accurate, he could be talking straight out of his ass for all I knew.

But he didn’t make me feel like an idiot, which I was thankful for.

“What can I get for you tonight?” A bartender asked.

“Honestly, I don’t really know. Something that looks fancy but is gonna make me feel it in the morning,” I sighed, and judging by his eager nod he knew exactly what I needed.

“And for you?”

“An Old Fashioned will do, extra bitters please,” Lucien gave a polite smile; it didn’t crinkle his eyes in the way I had seen when I made him smile. Reading too much into this? Definitely. “I don’t want to seem insensitive or anything, but how old are you? I won’t tell anyone if you’re underage but I don’t want to-”

“I’m twenty-one. Just had my birthday a week ago,” I explained. “I know I look… young.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Lucines ginger brows furrowed.

I just shrugged, “It is when you constantly get treated like a baby.”

“Fair point.” Lucien swirled his thumbs around one another for a few moments, watching the bartender make our drinks. “Did you do anything fun for your birthday?”

“Probably not anything you’d consider fun.” I was certain that telling Cassian’s investor that I spent my birthday at a restaurant, pretending to be a waitress to make quick cash, was not a good idea. “It was not the twenty-first birthday I dreamed of as a kid.”

“Bummer,” Lucien frowned a little, taking a sip of his drink when he had it passed to him. “When I turned twenty-one, my brothers thought it would be a hilarious idea to call beforehand and ask the bartender to freak out on me when I walked in. He acted like he had seen me before, which he hadn’t, and was adamant that I had been in here with a fake ID. Safe to say that I nearly shit my pants.”

I laughed, squashing the immediate guilt of using a fake ID on numerous occasions. I still have a few, but there’s no point in keeping them anymore. I can get in anywhere now. Totally legally!

I said thank you to the bartender before giving my drink a taste. It was good, but I could definitely taste the headache tomorrow. Was I a stranger to drinking? Absolutely not, so hopefully this would give me some sort of buzz.

“How many brothers do you have?” My vain attempt at not asking about the scar.

“Five,” Lucien’s eyes got a little big. “All older.”

“Jesus, and I thought one was chaos. Your poor mother,” I took another sip and felt my stomach ignite with the familiar burn. “Speaking of the fucking devil…”

“Ira,” Cassian spoke in a harsh tone. His eyes narrowed on Lucien. “Come on, we’re heading over to the greeting line.”

“Okay, have fun.” This wasn’t my party, I didn’t need to stand and greet people.

“Ira,” he bared his teeth. “Lets. Go.”

“You are such a cock block, you know that?”

Lucien’s cheeks were the same shade as his hair. “Oh, Cassian I wasn’t-”

“I know you wouldn’t be that stupid,” Cassian grabbed my elbow. “This one? Now she’s a different story.”

“You think I’d fuck your business investor? Do you really think that poorly of me? No offense,” I threw over my shoulder with a wince.

He raised his hand with an understanding smile, “None taken.”

A gentleman. I think I’ll add Lucien to my internal list of people to be grateful for. And that was a very very short list. He was a great guy, just not for me.

“I wouldn’t put it entirely past you.” Fucking rude. “I’ll see you later on, Lucien. Let’s go, Ira.”

“Shackled yet again,” I sighed out, not bothering to hide my clear annoyance as I picked up my drink. A Mojito I think? “Thanks for the convo, Lucien.”

“Anytime, Ira.” He tipped his glass to me, and I did the same.

I followed behind Cassian’s massive shoulders and scowled the whole way. Why did he always have to do that? Wasn’t he the one to try to make friends in the first place?

“Can I just say that you haven’t known me for the past six years and you have no right to make judgements on my character,” I hissed, finally catching up to him. “That was a total dick move. We were just talking to each other. You’re the one who told me to have fun here.”

“And what was one of the rules I had? Wherever I go, you follow.”

What. A. Fucking. Loser.

We rounded a corner and there was a grand staircase just outside the set of glass doors. It was lined with red carpeting and velvet ropes. To my surprise, there were some photographers waiting on either side of the stairs.

“Now, stand here and smile.”

“That’s it?”

“For my sake, yes, that’s it. Don’t talk to anyone, just be quiet,” Cassian squared his shoulders as he stood next to Rhys and Feyre. Nesta was on his left, me on his right.

“Eye eye, captain buzz-kill.”

He rolled his eyes.

“You certainly do like getting under his skin,” Azriel’s voice chilled my spine.

“It's another one of my favorite hobbies,” I responded, smiling as a woman and her older husband walked by, shaking Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel’s hands.

“Along with the pick pocketing and hot-wiring?”

Just to prove how fucking capable I was, I carefully reached down, effortlessly removing his watch from his left wrist without a single hair being disturbed. I held it up in front of his face, dangling it like a carrot. His eyes widened and he looked from his empty wrist to the watch in my hand.

“A rolex? A little… basic. Certainly this one could sell for a few hundred thousand, don’t you think?”

“Give that back,” he lowered his voice, and I smirked.

“Finders keepers.” I took an obnoxious sip of my drink.

“Now.” He was so easily ruffled. I had found a weakness of his; he did not like it when I touched his stuff.

I placed the hunk of metal into his open palm and he put it on with a clenched jaw. “Insult my skills again and I’ll make sure the cash is deposited into my bank account before you even realize the watch is missing.”

“You’re quick, I’ll admit that,” he still whispered. “But we both know that you hide behind a mask to cover up the fact that you lack any level of human decency.”

Now that fucking stung. “Who the hell are you to tell me about human decency? And what the hell happened to the whole ‘we got off on the wrong foot’ shit? Your words, not mine.”

I need to stop believing that people will keep their word. I thought Cassian was genuine when he told me to have fun and make friends. Wrong. And not that I really expected Azriel to stay true to his in the first place, but he had no business making assumptions about me. Even if they were right.

The muscles in his jaw clenched as well as his fists. It was immediately wiped away as another guest approached. But when he was gone, his mouth was open again.

“Fine, you got me there. Let's be civil and have a normal conversation. Are you having a good time?”

“Do you honestly think I am?”

“I honestly don’t care,” he scoffed. So much for the effort to be civil. His eyes locked with mine when I stuck my tongue out at him. “You seriously need a lesson in etiquette.”

“And you seriously need a lesson in how to not be a douchebag,” I quipped, catching the attention of the couple that walked in front of us. I mouthed a ‘sorry’.

Azriel’s shoulders shook with a suppressed laugh. “You really don’t know how to be subtle, do you?” “It’s not exactly in my play book,” I responded, plastering a fake smile on my lips. “And for the record, I know how to have some class.”

“You sure? Because you look more like you belong across the street.” He was referring to Midnight’s Shadow. And he was not subtle about the way he looked at my outfit. As much as I didn’t want to shiver at the gaze, I couldn’t help it. It made me feel guilty, especially when I saw Mor quickly stepping into line next to Azriel on the other side.

They exchanged a quick smile and my heart froze. Why the hell was he looking at me like that and not her?

“And I do. I’m far better at drinking and dancing than I am at pretending to be interested in this fucking sleep fest.”

Azriel grumbled another laugh, his voice deep. “The festivities are actually entertaining. All the old ladies flock to the bingo room the second it’s open. And the poker tournament is always fun to watch.”

A light bulb went off in my brain. “Do you have to already be registered to play?” My devious little mind was thinking about getting in on the action.

“No, why?” He asked.

“Because I might want to join them,” I shrugged. “What else is there to do?”

“You can play poker? I’ve barely seen you able to control your hair let alone your facial expressions,” Azriel teased, gesturing to the mess at the back of my head.

“I have an amazing bluff. See? My poker face is already on, I’m standing here pretending to be nice to you when I really want to kick you to the fucking ground.”

Maybe a touch too hard. But his lips curled into a smile and I didn’t miss the way his eyes flicked to my mouth. “Such a wicked, testy thing.”

“Got a problem with that?” I tipped my glass back, finishing the crafted drink before wiping the corners of my lips, waiting for a response. Again, his eyes went to my mouth.

“Absolutely not.”

I just rolled my eyes. “You fucking wish, buddy.”

“There are plenty of things I’d wish for before you in my bed, sweetheart,” Azriel challenged, rocking slightly on his heels. “World peace, a lamborghini-”

“A lamborghini?”

“Earplugs,” He rattled off next. “Seriously, do you ever stop talking?”

“Only when I’m certain I’ve made my point.”

“Cassian, your sister won’t shut up,” Azriel whined like a toddler.

“Seriously, you’re tattling to my brother? What are you, three years old? Get a fucking life, dude.” “I’m not three, I’m just annoyed.” “Both of you, stop it. Now.” Cassian was pissed. His cheeks were a little red and his eyes were practically bulging out of their sockets. “If you don’t start behaving I’ll drag you out of here myself.”

“Yes mother.” My jaw was damn near on the floor. I wasn’t five anymore. I didn’t need to be scolded by Cassian. And especially not by Azriel who was quietly chuckling to himself. “What the fuck is your problem with me?” “I don’t have a problem with you,” Azriel shook his head. “Despite my better judgment you’re actually kind of funny. But Jesus, you need to learn how to respect people. Do you know how hard he works to put this on every year?”

I didn’t, and I didn’t care. “Why does it matter?”

“It takes months and months to coordinate. Between investors, vendors, caterers, guests… It takes a small army. And to then suddenly throw you back into the mix? Did you ever stop and think about how he might be handling all this?”

No. I hadn’t. Not for a second. I didn’t respond. I am an awful fucking person.

“Exactly. This hasn’t been the easiest transition for any of us. So do us all a favor and cut him some slack,” Azriel’s tone was a little sharp, but he wasn’t being unreasonable.

And he was right. I hadn’t thought about how any of them would adjust to me being here. Out of the blue. Just in their lives and in their business after years of not knowing that I even roamed this earth.

“It’s not fair,” I mumbled.

“What isn’t fair?” Azriel asked.

“Cassian is the one who cut me out of his life. Not the other way around. He has no reason to be pissed at me for just simply existing,” I huffed, air rushing back into my lungs.

“I think it’s a little more complex than-” “What the fuck do you know about us anyway?” I spun to face him, not giving a flying fuck about who was listening. “Cause I’m thinking it’s not much because if you knew, you’d know who I was from the beginning. So keep your speculations to yourself from now on. Got it?” To my surprise, he actually nodded, biting his lips and not looking my way again as the rest of the guests flowed in.

I was hot. Burning hot with rage and anger and hate. The fucking nerve he has to pretend he knows what happened between Cassian and I. The second Cassian said I could go, I was flying back around the corner to the bar. Thankfully, Cass didn’t try to stop me. He might’ve walked out of here with one less hand.

The two shots of tequila left a wake of burn in my esophagus and settled in my stomach. I needed food. Quick. I didn’t actually want to give myself alcohol poisoning.

There were typical fancy party snacks and shit that wasn’t going to be enough to fill me up. The place was buzzing with people and now I just wanted to leave. I was irritated and a little sweaty. Those things didn’t mix well when I got overwhelmed. And the absolute last thing I needed was to have a panic attack in a room full of people.

I feel so violated. None of what was going on here tonight was okay. There was little I could do to keep my emotions in check. This was wildly unfair. Down right cruel. Cassian didn’t own me and he sure as hell needed to get his friend under control.

I needed air. Badly.

“... I don’t know whether or not that event is going to be able to fit into our calendar. We are already booked through the end of the year and- Ira?”

“I’m just going outside for a minute,” I said quietly to Cassian. I gave him a look I hoped he would recognize from years ago. The one I always gave him when he knew I wasn’t able to breathe right for one reason or another. “Just wanted to let you know.”

He gave a nod. And that was more than enough of an understanding. I kept my head down and pressed through the crowd to a set of doors. The setting sun greeted me as the chilly september air brightened my senses again.

In for four, out for four. In for five, out for five. In for six, out for six.

One of the only memories I have of Cassian actually being helpful was when he taught me how to control my breath when I had my first panic attack. I was about six years old. Dana and Arthur were having a conversation in the other room and I overheard them.

“She doesn’t understand right from wrong,” Dana shouted. “What are we supposed to do?”

“Be patient with her, Dana,” Arthur countered. “She just found out they’re not getting adopted. She has every right to be angry and untrusting of us. It’s not her fault. She needs time to adjust to the situation.”

“Yes it is her fault! She got into her teacher's purse and stole her wallet! She pushed a kid off of platform at recess. She is out of control. Here, at school… she is gonna move on to worse shit one day.”

“Ira,” Cassian shook my shoulders. “Ira it’s okay, just breathe.”I hiccuped a sob, snot dripping down my chin. My brain and chest and lungs felt like they were on fire. I couldn’t hear or see anything clearly and all my limbs felt numb and tingly.

“Shhh, Ira it’s okay. I’m here with you. Follow me, put your hands on my chest. Feel me breathing okay? Can you follow my breathing?”

I just nodded, not able to form any words. With every rise of his chest I pulled in a shakey, nauseating breath to match his. In… and out… in… and out…

I opened my eyes and felt my control slip back into my body. The colors in the sky grounded me back to the present and I let the tingling seep from my fingers and toes. Who would’ve thought that suddenly finding yourself back in communication with the person who abandoned you would cause such an emotional roller coaster?

I did not see any of this coming. In the past two days I’ve had more anxious episodes than I have in the past two years. That’s when I got out of “not juvy” and came to live with Dana and Arthur again.

They were stronger than ever and I had no fucking idea why. That's a complete lie. Of course I knew why. I hadn’t seen Cassian for years and now I’m suddenly living with him again? What did I expect to happen? Clearly I didn’t know it would trigger a fuck ton of memories that I’d rather bury in my mind for the rest of my life. But here we are.

Here I am. Standing outside of his hotel. His hotel. Having a panic attack. God I am so fucking pathetic.

This is not the way I wanted tonight to go. If I was going to be stuck here with him for the rest of the night then I was gonna spend it on my own fucking terms. Fuck him. Fuck Cassian and his stupid rules.

With another grounding breath, I rolled back my shoulders, taking another look at the sky before opening the door. I swallowed my self pity and put my game face on. Now I’m on a fucking mission. I was here to have fun. To make friends, per Cassian’s request.

Let’s go win some fucking money.

___

Two and a half hours later I had a stack of chips around me and a royal flush between my two cards and the river. There was a crowd behind me and someone’s sunglasses rested on the bridge of my nose.

“Miss, the turn is yours. What’s your call?” The dealer asked.

I had a royal flush. He was not beating that. Just couldn’t. I smirked, pretending to peek at my cards to appear in distress. “Check.”

“Check,” the only other player said from my right.

The dealer burned and turned the last card, and another fucking hit appeared in the river. I’ve got him by the fucking balls.

“Check,” the man says again, tapping his fingers on the table relentlessly.

“All in,” I said instantly, the small crowd gasping as I pushed the dozens of chips into the center pot. Could you believe that all I had was twenty dollars to start with and now I was over two grand? It pays to be bold sometimes.

He flipped over his cards, revealing a straight flush with a smirk.

I clicked my tongue, “Damn. Thought I had that one.”

“Ha!” The man pumps his hand in the air. “Nice try, pretty girl, but I’m-”

“Sorry, is that an eight you turned over?” I asked the dealer, full well knowing that it’s a nine.

“N-no it’s a nine, ma’am,” she pushed it closer to me and I glanced at my cards.

“Oh,” I chuckled and leaned back. “Thank god, for a second I thought you beat me! But I think a royal flush beats a straight.”

Even the dealer had her mouth open. The guy to my right damn near broke the glass that was halfway to his mouth. I flipped over my cards and spread them out for all to see. Cheers erupted around me as I won the whole fucking tournament.

“Bitch,” he hurled my way, but I let it slide off me as I stuck my arms in the air, pushing the glasses down to give him a wink as he walked by.

“Congratulations, miss,” the dealer smiled. “The pot is yours to cash. And there is the bonus as well. Follow me.”

Bonus? I got a bonus for beating some old man's ass at cards? Hell fucking yeah. I was more than buzzed and I swayed when I stood up. A hand steadied me as I wobbled.

“Note to self, don’t mix tequila with champagne,” I giggled. “Thank you, Cassian.”

Cassian? Cassian. Oh SHIT. CASSIAN. Uh oh. I'm in big. Fucking. Trouble.

“I think there has been some confusion, Darla,” Cassian said to the dealer. “She was not eligible to compete in today's tournament.”

“Oh? That’s not what I was told. She signed up validly and was-” I watched her eyes dart from my face to Cassians; albeit through blurry eyes, so maybe she was looking behind me. I turned over my shoulder, asking if she wanted to talk to the people behind me. “Oh…”

“Yeah, oh,” Cassian sighed. “Not your fault. We’ll think of something to do with the earnings.”

“Those are my chips, I won them fair and square. As square as Spongebob. The one who lived in the pineapple under the sea,” I clarified in case anyone didn’t know which one I was talking about.

“Apologies, sir.”

“It’s alright,” he tugged me closer to his body and I stumbled into him. “Let’s go. You’re cut off.”

“Should’ve done that a long time ago, Cassie,” I slurred some of my words, I think. But who cared when I felt like I was walking through the clouds.

“Don’t call me that here,” Cassie grumbled, dragging me away from the table and my beer that I'd yet to finish. Of course my only logical response was to say it over and over and over again as loud as I could.

“Wait, my beer!” I cried. “Can we go back and get it?”

“No, we can’t,” he snapped. Cassian dragged me around a corner and into some room off to the side. When he shut the door, he sat me in a chair. This looked oddly like an interrogation room. Especially when he flipped on the single overhead light. He took a deep breath. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“No,” I gurgled. “I am very much in my mind. See? It’s not going anywhere, my thick skull keeps it there for me.” “Don’t play stupid, Ira. What made you think it would be a good idea to enter into the poker tournament. Or that I’d be okay with it?”

“You didn’t specify that it was off limits,” I shrugged. He didn’t and he knew it. “And the bingo was boring. They kept reading them wrong and it pissed me off. They kicked me out.”

“What?” Cassian’s eyes were comically wide. “What the fuck did you do?”

“I kept telling them they were wrong. No one else was doing it so I took it upon myself. Batman has saved Gotham once again!” Cassian actually had to restrain himself punching me. I was sure of it. He brought up his arms, but did nothing with them. He just shook his head in what seemed like disbelief. “There are very few things that make me want to drive my hand through a wall, Ira. But right now? You are at the top of the fucking list.” “Get in line,” I swayed a little in my seat. “I don’t know why your panties are all in a knot. You told me to have fun. And I was having fun. I was winning money.”

“You are unbelievable,” Cassian huffed.

I just folded my arms. A knock on the door had me groaning and I tossed my head back. “Can I go now?” “No. Who is it?”

“Me,” a voice that sounded a lot like Azriel’s said. Great. Just what I need. Him.

“Come in,” Cassian commands and the door swings in. “What?”

“Amren wants to know what's going on. She’s kind of pissed because people are not happy right now,” Azriel said, and I could feel his eyes all over me. “Don’t you look like a bottle of sunshine."

I flipped him off.

“Tell them Ira is going to donate the money to the charity,” Cassian said after a few moments of silence. When I shot my head back up, mouth open in protest, I felt like I was gonna throw up so I snapped it shut quickly.

“Okay,” Azriel shrugged as if that was easy enough.

“No,” I blurted out. “That’s not fair, I won that money. I want to decide what to do with it.”

“Well, it’s customary to donate all earned money to the charity tonight. It’s the… courteous thing to do. You should know that since you apparently know how to be classy,” Azriel’s tone was laced with venom. Little did he know I had fangs of my own.

“That’s my fucking money,” I snapped. “Who gives a shit if it’s donated to charity. It’s just a couple grand.” I watch them share a look. Blinking. Not saying any words. “What?”

“Where did you get a couple grand?” “I won it,” I shrugged, not thinking anything of it. “I had a twenty in my purse and-”

“Don’t fucking lie to me, Ira. Did you win it or did you steal it?”

He might as well have slapped me clean across the face. The way my heart sank in my chest… he didn’t trust me. He had not one fucking ounce of trust in me. “You’re kidding, right?”

He just gave me an unnerving look.

“You really don’t trust me, do you?”

“That’s not the point.”

“Yes,” I nodded. “That's absolutely the point. I was just trying to have fun. Like you told me to do. Not everything I’m involved with is a scam, Cassian. I can’t even believe you would think that. I didn’t even know anything about the tournament until I sat down to play.”

“You’re saying you didn’t know how much that jackpot was? Or the bonus?” “I didn’t even know there was a bonus,” I said truthfully. “How much?”

“Nothing,” Cassian dragged a hand down his face, thumbs in his eyes.

“Well, it’s certainly not nothing,” Azriel raised his eyebrows.

“How. Much.”

“Not a fucking-”

“Thirty four-thousand total,” Azriel said way to enthusiastically.

“You’re gonna donate thirty four-thousand dollars? And it’s the money that I earned? What the fuck is wrong with you? I could use that money, you know.”

“Why the fuck did you say anyhing?” Cassian was running his fingers through his unbound hair.

Azriel just shrugged, “Because I knew the look on her face would be hilarious.”

“Don’t you have better things to do? This needs to be a private conversation.” I was damn near seething now. He was not serious. He could not do something like this to me again. He’s undermining me.

“Not really, and this is really funny,” Azriel grinned, fussing with the cufflinks on his wrists.

“Why don’t you go suck face with Mor, you fucking asshole.” Woah… totally shouldn’t have said that. Even I was a little taken aback at my words.

Cassian narrowed his eyes and brows, just moving his eyes between Azriel and I.

No one moved. I’m not even sure anyone breathed. I just watched my brother and his douchebag of a friend exchange a series of looks. They made facial expressions like they were talking, but I never heard any words. Suddenly I felt a whole hell of a lot more sober.

“Good luck, princess,” Azriel said in that tone that made me want to peel the skin of his bones. Then the door clicked shut. Just Cassian and I. In an enclosed space.

“The money is going to be donated. And that is final. You’re going home. Right now. I’m done dealing with you,” Cassian’s words dig deep. I’m done dealing with you. I’m done dealing with you.

“Yeah, walk the fuck away. Just like you always do. I thought you’d change, Cass. But clearly you’re still the same coward you were six years ago. After all this time… you still don’t trust me. Still don’t trust your sister. It’s only been two days and you’re already kicking me to the curb? Some brother you are.” I was disgusted by him. Never in my life would I have though he would’ve reacted like this to seeing me again. Sure I expected him and I to have our differences. But this? This was borderline torture.

I watched his shoulders tense as he paused by the door. He didn’t speak, but he didn’t need to. I knew I hit right where I wanted to. And I hoped it fucking hurt.

___

The clang of something against iron forces my eyes open. I groan, trying to open my eyes but find that they’re crusted together. Fucking gross. I roll my head back, neck cracking with the movement.

Everything above my shoulders– including those– ached.

I practically peeled my lashes open one by one, light bright in my eyes. I blinked several times to clear the gunk and noted how dry my mouth was. Man… I should’ve drank more water.

I know I sent a neuron or two from my brain to tell my arm to move, but it didn’t. My arms didn’t move as I tried again, and then again. I sat up in a panic, taking in my surroundings as quickly as I could through the splitting headache.

Bars. Iron bars. Concrete floors, cinder block walls.

Oh shit.

“Ira Drallor?” Damn it’s been a while since anyone used my last name. A man was in front of me through the rows of bars.

“Huh?” My chest rose and fell quickly. “W-What the fuck is happening? Where am I?”

“Relax, you’re not under arrest.” Arrest… Arrest? Holy shit, I’m in a fucking jail cell. “We just needed somewhere safe to put you.”

“Put me? What do you mean put me? Where’s all my stuff? What happened?” “Calm down, someone is on their way to get you,” He held out a steady hand, unlocking the gate and stepping inside. “I’m gonna come and take off the cuffs, okay?”

I scrambled up and turned around, hearing the unmistakable sound of handcuffs unlocking. The second they fell away I grabbed them, massaging the red indentations. “What the fuck happened?”

“You were out on the street drunker than the Chicago Bulls after their NBA Championship,” he chuckled. Because I knew whatever the fuck that meant. “Someone reported you, not to get you into trouble, but because you were alone. Walking down a busy street at two AM. With one shoe. In the middle of the road. At least you still had your purse with and ID in it.”

So much for having any ounce of self preservation. Or dignity.

“Am I being charged?” I hope to god that they don’t know I have a criminal record.

“No,” he says and I deflate instantly. “But some advice? Maybe just… don’t ever do that again.”

I gave the closest thing to a smile that I could, and then he left. I looked around, then down at myself.

My feet were bare, but both of my shoes were tucked in the corner. Along with my purse. Two of my nails were gone and my hands were covered in grime. My skirt was torn and I’m sure that my face is a wreck. There is a little mirror above the toilet and I might as well have been out to sea for seven years.

My hair is a rat's nest and, to no one’s surprise, my mascara is streaked down my face. I look like I’ve been beaten half to death with my makeup everywhere.

Two things were going through my mind: what the fuck happend being the first. The second was Cassian might actually kill me.

Guilt and dread filled my stomach, pushing anything else in there to the surface and into the toilet. I gagged and hacked and coughed into it. This was definitely not my proudest moment. Vomiting in a jail cell toilet that hasn’t been cleaned in god knows when.

Just how I wanted to start my day. Or night, I had no idea what time it was. Of if it was the same day.

The guard must’ve been nearby because he brought me some water and a packet of crackers. He’ll be on that list with Lucien if I make it out of here with my head still on my body after Cassian shows up.

Fuck… what am I gonna say to Cassian? I hardly remember anything from last night– the night before?– and I don’t know the full extent of what I did. I remember the poker game and then being furious at Cassian about him making me donate all of it. Oh god… I didn’t have to get up on stage and declare that, did I? Fuck… this is gonna be a mess to clean up.

What I couldn't figure out was why I was so mad at Cassian. He probably said something stupid. He always does when he’s angry. I back-tracked through my memories. I was playing poker, then I won. I remember getting dragged into some room and Azriel was in there. No- Azriel came in later. I think?

Never drinking that much ever again.

“Well well well.”

I snapped my head up way too quickly and the light above me circled around and around. I rubbed the back of my neck, squinting until the figure came into clearer view.

That was not Cassian. And he was objectively worse.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I hissed at Azriel. I was so not in the mood to see him. Or hear him. Or smell his cologne but I guess none of that was really up to me since I was behind bars.

“I’m the one bailing you out,” he folded his arms over his chest, smiling smugly as he shook his head. “You look like a fucking disaster.”

“Gee, it’s almost like I got blackout drunk and woke up in a jail cell. What’d you expect, me to be well rested and done up like a Barbie?”

“I see your attitude is as snarky as ever. If I would’ve known you were gonna get locked up at the sight of me and Mor I would’ve done it a lot sooner. This is priceless,” Azriel made a vague gesture to me being locked up and leaned up against the wall.

Him and Mor? Oh- right. Fuck, was I that obvious about it? I really didn’t feel like bickering with him. I just wanted to go home and go to sleep. “What time is it?”

He looked at the watch I had plucked off his wrist earlier. “Almost five.”

“AM or PM?”

“AM?” He gave me a funny look. “Do you have any recollection of what happened?”

“Does it fucking look like I know what happened? No, I don’t. But can you hurry up and get me the fuck out of here?”

“Only if you say please,” Azriel smiled, his stupid, perfectly white teeth flashing.

I blinked at him. “Azriel I swear to god I will-”

“Just say please and I will get that guard over here to unlock you. The longer you let your pride win, the longer you’ll have to wait for the aspirin, Gatorade, and bacon egg and cheese bagel in the car.”

Every single remark flew out of my mind the second he said aspirin. “Azriel, please get me out of here.”

“Like you mean it,” he grinned wider if that was even possible.

I was gonna put him through a wall the second I got out of here. But I inhaled, detaching my shoulders from my ears, and swallowed. “Azriel, please. Please get me out of here…”

Something softened in his eyes as he nodded to his right. The sound of keys jingling cut through the air and the guard appeared. Thank fucking god.

“Alright, Miss Drallor, you’re free to go. Get home safe, you two,” he smiled as I walked by, and I read his name tag. Benjamin.

“Thank you Benjamin,” I smiled, arms full of my belongings. “I’ll try not to get that hammered again. Thanks for keeping me safe.”

“I had a daughter your age once. If someone did the same for her as I did for you, I’d owe them a hell of a favor. Take care, now.”

With a mutual nod, I padded over- still barefoot- to Azriel. “Can we go now?”

“Sure,” he pushed off the wall, spinning his keys around his finger, catching them in his palm.

The sun was just beginning to shed light on the horizon, a few birds chirping along with the crickets. It was cold, and my feet ached more than my fucking head. I kept my eyes on the ground, careful to not step on any sharp stones in the parking lot.

“Over here,” Azriel waved, guiding me towards a shiny black Audi R8. Jesus fuck that was a nice car. I paused a few feet from the passenger door, taking in the all black vehicle. This thing cost about seventeen times more than my life's worth. “Leave any scratches and I’ll drop you on the side of the road.”

Some part of me knew he was joking, but I took it seriously. I just wanted to get back to the house.

I carefully opened the door and set my things on the floor in front of the plush leather seat. I began to go around the hem of my skirt, taking out all of the safety pins and cupped them in my hand.

“Ira that was… I wasn’t serious.”

I just shrugged, looking at him as I sat down. “I think I’ve caused enough fucking damage for one day so I’d rather not risk it.”

The car fired up with a touch of his finger and roared to life. Before pulling away, he reached in the back and plopped a small brown bag in my lap. Did he just… he actually bought me supplies? I peaked in the bag, cheeks heating up a little with tenderness as I saw exactly what he said he had. A bottle of blue Gatorade, a thing of aspirin, and a delicious smelling sandwich.

“I uhh,” I was genuinely at a loss for words. “Thanks, Azriel.”

“Yeah, it’s not a problem. It's one thing to press buttons, but I don't kick people when they're down. Despite what you think, I am a gentleman.” Why was he being nice to me? Why were his eyes smiling like his mouth? This is weird. Everything about this is weird.

We pulled out of the parking lot and headed down the road. Lamp posts were still on, and a few deer were over on a field once we got out of the main city. There was some soft music playing on the radio as we drove back to the house.

“I’m gonna warn you, Cassian is furious.”

“Great.” What did I expect, though. I shoved the bagel into my mouth and might’ve actually moaned at how good it tasted.

“In all honesty, I think he’s more afraid than anything. You were there in the room when he left and then you were just gone. Literally no one saw you leave, how did you get out?”

“I’m Houdini,” I snorted around a mouthful. His shoulders shook with laughter. “No, I don’t know. I just… do that I guess.”

“Not the first time you’ve had to make an escape, huh?” Azriel drove with one hand on the wheel, eyes flicking over to me before they settled back on the road.

“You can just add it to the never ending list of ‘skills’ I have,” I said. Every emotion wretched through my bones. Above all was shame. “He’s gonna kill me.”

“No,” Azriel pressed his lips together. “I genuinely think he’s not gonna be as pissed as he is worried.”

“What do you mean not gonna? Does he know you found me?” He shook his head. “What- why?”

“Because it would give him time to be coherent when he sees you after what happened yesterday. I don’t think you want that, do you?” No, I abso-fucking-lutely did not want him to prepare before I could get there. I shook my head. “Then consider this a formal favor.”

“A favor?”

“Yes. I saved your ass from Cassian, now I want something in return.”

“What could I possibly have that you would want? Cause you’re sure as hell not gonna get access to my top secret box of top secret secrets.” Maybe I'm still a little drunk. We took a sharp corner and I leavened into it, head smacking into the side of the car. Yup. Definitely still drunk. “You have a box of top secret shit?” He gave me the blandest ‘I don’t believe your bullshit’ look ever.

“No, but if I did you wouldn’t get access to it,” I smiled, taking another huge bite of the sandwich. It was so fucking good. “What do you want?”

“I want to know what the fuck happened between you two.”

The fucking audacity. He had no right to ask, and he had no need to be in our business. “Sorry, that’s one of my top secret secrets. Better luck next time.”

He clicked his tongue, “Stop being such a hardass for once in your life and just answer the question. I’m not gonna tell anyone, I just want to know why you two are at each other's throats all the time.”

“It really isn’t any of your business,” I said, folding my arms over my chest.

“Well, you’re living in my house so yeah, it kind of is my business.”

Fair point.

“There really isn’t much to it. He fucking abandoned me with our foster parents. Totally left me alone with them without a fraction of an explanation or a way to find him.” Why was I telling him any of this? I didn’t fucking owe him anything. “I think the worst part about it was that I blamed myself more than anything. I’ve spent six years of my live thinking I was the one who drove him away when in reality he ditched me for fucking you and Rhys. So I apologize if I don’t welcome you with open arms, but you mean absolutely nothing to me.”

Azriel was silent. I didn’t even hear him breathe. “Ira, it wasn’t-”

“There, I said it. Are you happy now? Fucking prick,” I ground my teeth together so hard I thought they’d crack out of my jaw. Tears stung my eyes and I forced myself to look out the window so he wouldn’t see my trembling lip.

In for four, out for four…

When we pulled in the small driveway, Azriel put the car in park but made no move to get out. And neither did I.

“If it means anything, I really hope you two work your shit out. Because not only is it a pain to listen to, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen Cassian so…”

“Burdened?” I finished for him.

“No,” he gave a small chuckle. “I was gonna say challenged. He is one hell of a dedicated person. He's determined to a fault. And the way he talks about you is… he really wants to help you. He wants to be there for you now that you’re here. He just doesn't know how to yet.” “So he just sees me as something to fix? Fucking perfect.” I rolled my eyes, collecting my things and reached for the handle. It didn’t open. I clicked the lock button and it still didn’t move. When I snapped my eyes to Azriel, he had his finger on the child lock button. “Let me out of here. Right now. And I will not be saying please.”

“Here him out,” Azriel gave me a look. A pointed look. “He wants to help you, not fix you. You don’t need to be fixed, Ira. You just need to be shown some basic human kindness for once in your life.” “Because you would know anything about being treated less than royalty. Open the fucking door or I’ll show you exactly how good some of my skills are,” I threatened. I was not above breaking windows. Especially if I was practically being held hostage. He listened.

Wise move.

I marched up to the door, smoke billowing out of my ears as I tired the handle. Locked.

Having to wait for Azriel to come and unlock it was mortifying. It might even haunt me in my dreams. He strode up the sidewalk like he had all goddamn day, sliding the key into the hole and turning it.

The foyer was empty, save for the shoes haphazardly piled in the corner. Two short beeps rang though the space as the alarm system declared the door was open. The stairs were right there and it would be so easy to-

“Azriel? Did you find her? I’m about ready to call the fucking National Guard where the hell could she… Ira,” Cassian came out of nowhere and barreled into me, scooping me in his arms. I could barely breathe, and my head and neck and body throbbed.

I coughed, the air strangling out of my lungs. He was hugging me. Cassian was hugging me. He never hugged me, even as a kid. Only when I had panic attacks would he hug me.

“Fucking put me down.” I thought I was gonna be popped like a grape.

“Where the fuck have you been? Do you have any idea how fucking worried I have been? Where did you go? Why are you so… so dirty?”

I just gaped my mouth open like a fish.

“You wanna tell him or should I?” Azriel quipped from the corner.

“Pipe it, Azzhole.” I didn’t care if it was unoriginal, it was still funny. I turned back around and looked up at Cassian. For a moment I let myself believe that he was actually worried about me. “And I honestly have no idea, I can’t remember. I woke up in a prison cell.”

I watched all the color drain from his face. “P-Prison? What the fuck, Ira? You were arrested?”

“No, apparently a good samaritan saw me wandering in the middle of the street? Barefoot as well. Well, technically I had one shoe on, I have no idea how they found the other one actually-”

“You spent the night in prison?” Cassian roared, surely waking the whole fucking neighborhood. His eyes were huge and he breathed raggedly, hands smothering my shoulders.

“Chill out, I’m fine. They just kept me there to keep me safe for the night. How they got in contact with Azriel is beyond me,” I shrugged, brushing off his hands. I moved down the hall and settling into one of the kitchen chairs. Cassian stood so tensely I wasn’t entirely sure he wouldn’t break himself in half. “No charges.” “Thank fucking god,” he blew out a breath of air, covering his eyes with his hand. Then he glared at Azriel. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me you knew she was alright? Alive even?”

Azriel just shrugged, “Because I like fucking with you.”

“This is not something you fuck around with, Az. This is my sister, she could’ve been dead for all I knew. O-Or kidnapped. How did you even know where she was?”

“I got a text from one of the bouncers that said a woman matching her description tried to break into the club,” Azriel’s gaze hardened when he looked at me. “Apparently you smashed one of the windows and took a bottle of Jack Daniels.”

My blood ran cold. Now that was a legit crime.

“So I went down the street, found your shoe, and eventually you. For the record, I was that good samaritan that called in to the station. So you’re fucking welcome for not pressing charges.” Azriel looked pissed. Rightfully so, if all that was true. All traces of that sentimental conversation, all traces of any kindness were gone.

Cassian just breathed in. Then he breathed out. A little longer inhale the next time around told me he was doing the same trick he taught me all those years ago.

I twiddled my thumbs. “Let’s get the yelling out of the way.” “I’m not gonna yell,” Cassian rubbed the looming five o’clock shadow on his jaw.

“Just get it over with. I can take it, don’t hold back,” I rested my temple on my fist, eyes taking in my dirty ass feet. I need a shower. And then a bath. And then my cardboard box of a bed.

“No,” Cassian shook his head. “I’m not gonna yell at you, Ira. I’m done yelling at you. Clearly it’s not getting anywhere so what’s the point? I just spent the past seven hours scouring the city for you because I thought you left. And I was sick to my stomach because of the last words we spoke to each other. I know I’ve been a shitty brother. A coward. But I just got you back… I don't want to lose you again.”

A rush of memories crashed into me. My very drunk words rattled around in my head. Some brother you are. They played over and over and over and-

“So you’re… not pissed?”

“Oh,” Cassian scoffed. “I’m fucking irate. But I’m just relieved that you’re alright.”

A total fucking one-eighty from a few hours ago. Huh. Weird.

“But Ira we– we have to do something because I can’t ever have that happen again. So, here’s what we’re going to do. Starting next Monday you are going to be working at the hotel for me.”

“Okay that’s… that’s fine,” I shrugged. I was totally expecting him to send me to the military. I felt like there was a catch coming.

“And every penny that you make is going towards paying Azriel back for the damages that you caused.”

There it was.

Well, it’s better than being on the street. I looked from him to Azriel. Him and that fucking smirk. “Fine.”

“Good,” Cassian blew out a long breath. “Oh, and you’ll be working for Azirel, too.”

“What?” Both of us exclaimed at the same time.

“Didn’t you say you could use an extra set of hands, Az?” There was a very obvious tone to him. He wasn’t offering my help, he was volunteering me. Involuntarily. “You can put her in charge of cleaning up in the mornings.”

“I don’t want her in my building, she wrecked it,” he spat, pacing over to us at the table. He was so tall from this angle.

“Too bad. You want the costs covered?” Cassian stuck a hand out at me, “Well there it is. It’s been a long day. Go to fucking bed, both of you. And keep your bickering to a minimum please. Nesta is still asleep.” “Good to know she cared about me enough to make an appearance,” I huffed, receiving an eye roll from Cassian. His feet sounded up the stairs and Azriel and I were left in the kitchen. Alone. Very very alone. “Look, I don’t want to do this as much as you do so why don’t we just sweep this under the rug and call it a day. Both of us know you could pay to have a window fixed by sunrise so… wave your magic wand and make it go away.”

Azriel grinned. A devilish look. A devious look. “Oh, absolutely not. You broke my window, and you’re going to come up with the money to fix it.”

Petty bitch. Only he could rival my pettiness.

“And if I have to call in reinforcements,” he pointed up, referring to Cassian. “I will.”

“Oh, because I’m so afraid of my brother? Please.”

“No,” Azriel closed the distance between us. His body heat radiated toward me, his breath fluttering some of my loose hair. “But you should be very afraid of me.”

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