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witchqueenofthemoon · 6 years

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BODY AND SOUL Part 11 (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)

BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST

Author’s Note: AHHH I CAN’T STOP WRITINGGGGG okay, so, the Tiffany moon necklace is real, you can find it on their website here (now I want it for myself, but it’s almost $3000 sob). I debated over whether or not Duncan and Melody should have had an awkward rendezvous in the past and ultimately decided that if I were working in close proximity with Duncan Shepherd as a 21-year-old intern I too would have tried to put my hand drunkenly on his crotch at some point, so my point of view towards her is one of empathy and solidarity and honestly it just made sense to my story (lolol). Bill Shepherd is going to show up at some point, but the impression I got from the show is that he and Duncan only interact when they absolutely have to as they don’t get along; Duncan gravitates to his mother and she acts as a mediator, so Bill will have a very minor role in this story. Not sure if Beau Willimon ever came up with a middle name for Duncan, but I couldn’t find one and made one up (Malcolm). At this point I’m sort of trying to follow the timeline of the show in a VERY loose sense (and I guess this is a spoiler, but I am going to bring in the fact that Duncan finds out Annette is not his real mother into my fic soon, mostly so Kenzie can comfort him and stroke his hair and give him soft, sweet, sympathetic kisses cuz I am a sucker for that sweet comforting shit); the upcoming show Duncan, Melody and Seth go over in this chapter is meant to be the one where Melody talks about Claire Underwood’s “public breakdown” in episode 5; I’m not going to include Duncan getting arrested in this fic though, because it’s my fic and I can do whatever I want and I hated the fact that they chose to end Duncan’s character that way. Had to add that line from O Fortuna...because the Duncan/Michael parallels will never end. “She walks in beauty like the night...” is Lord Byron, a poem I was obsessed with when I was younger and have always wanted to put in a story. Kenzie making chicken and dumplings is a reference to the fact that Billie Lourd is fucking obsessed with chicken. Most people know Hades was the God of the Underworld; few people know he was also the god of gold and riches, which is very Duncan. It was important for me to imply Duncan had extensive cooking wares in his penthouse; that he cooks for himself. Dudes who can’t cook are a turn-off. Kenzie cooked for him because it made her happy to do it; it’s a way she’s showing him how much she loves him, not something she felt like she had to do, and I plan on them cooking together in future chapters. That moment Duncan leans against the wall across from Kenzie as they look out the window is my homage to the Cody lean. The prayer to Nike is a real one. Full-disclosure, the passing-out after really great sex is something that happens to me pretty often; I go into post-coital daze pretty hard, so Kenzie doing that is literally based on my own experiences, haha! Duncan will finally meet Madeline in the next part, but we’ll be seeing it all through Kenzie’s eyes.

Duncan had left the interview with Gretchen Friedrichs with his mind buzzing; he stepped out of the elevator with a vague pressure humming between his temples, rubbing his thumb into the palm of his other hand, trying to calm the simmering anger that was still hovering over him. He wondered, with some alarm, when the gossip website was planning on publishing Kenzie’s name and occupation. He wrestled with the idea of telling her; no, he thought, I have to do everything I can to ease her into this world carefully. God, I know she’s afraid and that kills me; I have to do everything I can to soothe her fear, not exacerbate it. One thing at a time.

He pulled his phone out, opening the Uber app and ordering a Black car; then, he opened his texts and sent one out to Kenzie; telling her about the Gala, about his mother’s stylist, about the theme (the theme is you, angel).

Kenzie: That’s beautiful, baby. I can’t believe you did that.

Since you’re the only thing I can think about, it seemed natural. And he knew it was true. She was filling this thoughts and his heart and his senses; nothing else seemed to matter, not the show or the company or the app or his mother, not Uncle Bill (who would I will likely hear from soon, he thought, hand coming up to his jaw, and he won’t like this at all). The emptiness and shallowness of the work his mother had enveloped him in since he was barely out of high school suddenly overwhelmed him; beside the luminous, boundless, sublime emotion of Mackenzie, her glittering, effulgent reality, the rest of the world had lost its brightness; it was black and white, and she was made of colors he had never seen and couldn’t begin to describe.

He looked back down at his phone. Kenzie had replied.

Kenzie: I think those women from the coffee shop posted something on Instagram already. My coworker said something to me as soon as I got into the office.

Fuck, he thought, rapidly typing. She’s going to need a bodyguard. I don’t want to scare her, but that’s going to have to happen very soon. He sent her Samuel’s contact; he’d given Samuel hers earlier that day after they’d dropped her off at One Franklin Square. “Please help me keep her safe,” he’d asked Samuel, his eyes meeting the warm brown gaze of his chauffeur in the mirror; as they always did.

“You have my word, Mr. Shepherd.”

Kenzie: Okay, baby. I feel overwhelmed.

Duncan’s heart resounded painfully in his chest; oh god, baby, he thought. I want to hold you so much right now. I want to shield you from all of this. He thought of the tender, aching way she’d brought her little hand down to his cock that morning, her little moans as she stirred awake under his kisses. He longed to soothe her in his arms; the anticipation of waiting for tonight felt like a thousand tiny, sharp knives were pressing into his skin, jarring and disconcerting. He wanted to be alone with her; he wanted the world to melt away, turn its eyes from them. I’m here. Anything you need or want from me, tell me right away. This will get easier in time, baby. I promise. I’m already dreaming about how hard I’m gonna make you come tonight. At home.

Kenzie: I’m dreaming about you too, baby. She’d left a lipstick-stain emoji at the end; he shivered, looking down at it, his mind drifting back to her mouth around his length that morning, the kisses she’d pressed against him outside One Franklin Square, in view of two dozen people, and how he’d gripped her against him, unable to care; lost in her, immediately aching as she ran away from him.

He walked out onto the sidewalk in front of the Ritz-Carlton (“Have a pleasant day, Mr. Shepherd,” the doorman said cordially; holding it open for him, and Duncan gave him a nod, trying to maintain his mask of calm) and stepped into the car waiting for him in front of the hotel. He had a meeting with Melody and Seth that would take a few hours; he winced at the withering look he knew was coming from Melody in particular. Oh well. It all had to come out; it was coming out, and he’d just have to weather the anger and annoyance that was coming his way, weather the disapproval and disbelief. Kenzie deserved that from it; she deserved everything. His patience, his courage, his resolve, and his love.

He opened the Instagram app; he glanced at his mentions, wincing. There was one of the photos the woman had snapped; I look fucking pissed, he thought. Kenzie looks like an angel. He loved the way she was tucked under his arm in the photo; loved the fall of her hair against his leather jacket, her little hand around her necklace. She fits there as though that’s where she was always meant to be. The piece of me once cut away, and now reunited. And me; the piece of her, now wrapped around her again, as if some fateful prophecy has finally been fulfilled. I'm not going to let anything tear us apart now.

Duncan saw her handle in his mentions; @kenzielouwho. He smiled, gazing down at his phone screen. I love that. Her sweetness. He hit the follow button, scrolled through her pictures, goggling at them, his face alight. He double-tapped again and again; here she was, her lovely taste and her coordinated little outfits and plants and the moons and stars of her world, her hair falling like a cascade of gold, laughing at the camera, smiling next to Claire, grinning over plates of food, snapshots of sunsets and evening lights and cute animals she met, books she was reading, songs she was listening to. He felt overcome again; overcome with the affection he felt for her, overcome with how much her happiness affected him, how much he wanted to bring her the joy he saw in her face in the photos, how much he wanted to be the source of her comfort and her love. He couldn’t help it; I’d do anything for this woman. I’d do anything. He found the photo of her looking out from the table at the coffee shop, a little moon at her throat, her sweater falling off her shoulder; he left the pierced hearts at the bottom with a feeling of wild abandon. You’ve pierced not just my heart, but my soul, and your happiness is my happiness, your comfort my comfort, your joy my greatest joy. He wished she was here so he could press the words against her skin with his lips; press into her and breathe deep, breathe her into him. To be away from her was such sweet torture. Looking through her pictures made him feel like there were flowers blooming and closing in quick succession in the center of his chest. He felt completely overwhelmed by them; again, he felt overwhelmed by her realness, her reality; the fact that she existed was astonishing again and again. I never want to wake up from this dream.

He found the video that had been taken of them (oh god, that went up fast) and blushed at the ardency with which he clutched her in them. And I thought the other picture was obvious, he thought sheepishly. But in that moment it had felt like no one else was there. He’d forgotten the world entirely, lost in her eyes and the waist of her skirt on her hips and her bare arms and the way she’d looked up into his eyes, the way she fit against him. There hadn’t been anyone else there, he thought. Not really. It was only us. It was only Kenzie.

-----

Duncan stepped into Shepherd Hall towards the upstairs offices and the Beltway studio where he was supposed to meet Melody and Seth, glancing down as his phone echoed out its soft text chime; Mom.

Duncan Malcolm Shepherd. You’ve exacerbated this situation considerably. What the fuck were you thinking? Clearly you are infatuated and it’s making you behave like a drunk frat boy. I understand that public encounters are somewhat inevitable, but kissing this girl in front of a crowd is absolutely unacceptable. Your uncle is furious. I can only control him if you control yourself. Get yourself under fucking control, Duncan. Focus on our objectives.

Shit, he thought. Shit, meet fan. Fuck Uncle Bill. He’s dying and he’s bitter about it and he wants to make someone else suffer before he kicks it. And I’m not going to play into it. He didn’t reply. You know we’re together, Mom, he thought. I told you I love her. What else do you want from me? I’m not a fucking child. I’ll do what you want when it comes to the company, but not when it comes to her.

He took the back staircase up a floor to where the offices were; the studio was set up at the end of the hall. As he came through the doorway, he was met with the very annoyed gaze of Melody Cruz; his eyes glanced over to where Seth sat beside her, nervously focusing on the memo pad in front of him, eyes skirting between the two of them, then back down.

“Oh, hello, Duncan,” Melody simpered, plastering a painful-looking smile on her face. Murder, her eyes shot out at him. Stone cold murder. “Nice of you to finally grace us with your presence, I know how busy you are lately.”

“Melody. Seth.” Duncan ignored her tone, pulling the chair at the head of the rectangular table in the far corner of the studio out, sitting in it neatly, putting his phone face-down on the table in front of him, crossing one leg over the other, using all his will to keep his expression neutral; cool, calm, collected, impenetrable Duncan Shepherd. Everyone seemed hellbent on getting a rise out of him this morning; of all the people in his life he considered close, it seemed only Samuel was happy for his good fortune. Fine. Perhaps it wasn’t unreasonable to reevaluate the roles of others in his life in the first place. “Let’s go over everything for the taping tomorrow.”

“I guess you’re just going to pretend like you haven’t been making a total mockery lately of all the work we’ve done, then?”

“I’m sure I don’t know what the fuck you mean, Melody.”

Seth’s eyes fluttered between them again, licking his lips, clicking a pen nervously in one hand. “Um, everything’s fine, Melody, I’m...I’m sure there won’t be any effect on the show.”

“Are you fucking dense, Seth? Of course it will fucking affect the fucking show! Madeline Stone’s fuck-ing daugh-ter!” She slapped her hand against the edge of the table, enunciating sharply. “You think our audience is primarily comprised of intersectional feminists and people who buy cage-free eggs?”

“Melody, you’re out of line.” Duncan felt his temper rising; a temper that hadn’t really settled since Gretchen Friedrichs tried to blackmail him half an hour ago.

Melody went quiet, her eyes burning, her expression infuriated.

“I understand the reasons my relationship may be a shock to you--”

“You better fucking believe it’s a fucking shock. I’ve never known you to be one to even call back for a second date, let alone whatever it going on with you right now. What, you fucking love her?”

Duncan gazed at her; her dark eyes met his icy blue stare evenly. He felt his tendency towards manipulation and coercion begin to try to float to the surface of his composure; for a moment, he considered firing her. It’s what last week’s Duncan would have done, he thought, and strangely, he felt a nervous edge creep into his composure; he was rubbing a hand along his bottom lip before realized he was doing it, looking away from her. This Duncan had been unutterably shaken by a little gold angel in a black dress. This Duncan was not the same man who had last sat in this studio, last plotted out the trajectory of how best to unseat the sitting President of the United States, last given Melody sheets of propaganda to read on air. I’m not totally sure who this Duncan is, he thought; Melody still stared, her expression seeping into confusion at his metamorphosing reaction. I just know I don’t want the same things I wanted a few days ago. I want her. And I don’t care what anyone thinks of it. I care what she thinks first and how she feels first and I don’t care who her mother is and I don’t care how many times people see us kiss on the street and I don’t want to be away from her, not for all the money in the world, not for all the power, not for the world itself or a hundred worlds. And nothing any of you say is going to make me leave her.

“Yes. Melody. I love her.”

Melody scoffed, leaning her head back into the headrest of her swivel chair, crossing her arms under her chest, turning away from him. Once, long ago, when Melody had been an intern for Shepherd Unlimited, they’d slept together. It was a hasty, short-lived event; neither of them had even really undressed for it, and Duncan hadn’t been able to come; they’d both been drunk and she had pressed a hand suggestively against his crotch and the scotch in his blood had convinced him that it was a good idea and it wouldn’t matter the next day, the way the scotch in his blood had decided halfway through that his cock was ready to go to sleep. Neither of them had ever really mentioned it again; but Duncan knew that Melody had never really let it go. Not in words; it was always in looks. But he wasn’t sure if her anger really had all that much to do with who Kenzie’s mother was as it had to do with the fact that this girl, whoever she was, was the girl Duncan Shepherd had decided was the one for him, kissing her openly in the street, standing in line with her in coffee shops with his arm around her, holding her hand on the way to private rooms in posh French bistros, cameras be damned.

“I guess this is why you fucked up your interview so many times the other day,” she said icily. “Thinking about her perfect little pink pussy.”

“Melody.”

“Seth, give him the fucking outline.”

“Melody. I’m sorry. I’m sorry about that time.”

Melody’s eyes fell on him, shining; shocked.

“I’m truly sorry about that night. I appreciate you and the work you do immensely; I see the long hours you put into the show and Gardner Analytics. I haven’t told you that enough. I know that happened a long time ago, but it was stupid, and we should have talked about it after it happened, and we didn’t. I should have said something to you, apologized, and I didn’t. This apology is far too late, and my timing is terrible. But I am sorry.”

Seth was carefully drawing circles on his memo pad; he pretended to look at his phone, as if engrossed in whatever he saw there, but Duncan could see how rigid his body was.

Melody continued to stare at him, not speaking. He uncrossed his legs and sat up; sat with his arms resting on his knees. He cleared his throat a little.

“I know it’s not convenient. But the truth is, I love Mackenzie Stone. It wasn’t expected; it wasn’t planned. It happened. Annette knows, and she knew before the video and the photo from today. I understand your hesitation and your concern for the future of Gardner Analytics and the show. But the reality is, my relationship will continue regardless of whether or not you approve of it; whether or not anyone approves of it who isn’t Mackenzie or me. But I am sorry, Melody. I respect you deeply as a friend and as a coworker. And I’m sorry my apology took so long.”

Melody bit her bottom lip, and he could see her arms clenching against her torso where she had them crossed. Then, she looked down at the folder in front of her, opened it, and passed him the sheet of paper on top.

“Outline for Episode 153.”

Duncan nodded, reaching for the paper, pulling it toward him, as Melody blew out a long breath, and began her overview.

--------

It was after 6 by the time Duncan left Shepherd Hall; he looked down at his phone (he hadn’t for hours as they went over the episode--as this one was supposed to be about President Underwood’s thus far very public breakdown, it had to be flawless) as Seth and Melody walked away from him. Melody had looked over her shoulder, giving him a strange look that he couldn’t decipher, then waved shortly, turning away--it gave him the feeling that something minute and ever-present had been vaguely fixed between them, though. Kenzie and Samuel had texted him; Samuel’s was at the top, more recent, so he saw it first: Mr. Shepherd, Miss Mackenzie is safely at home. If you need my services, I am now available to you.

Yes, please, Samuel. I’m at Shepherd Hall. I need to go to Tiffany’s.

Samuel responded right away. Very good, Mr. Shepherd. I will be there in ten minutes.

He scrolled down to the text from baby, angel, beloved

Kenzie: There were a bunch of reporters waiting outside the building when I tried to leave work. My boss helped me through the back door, but two of them still found me. Thankfully Samuel was there, but I think they got me on camera. I don’t know who they were with. I’m okay. Samuel was wonderful. I’ll be so relieved to see you, baby.

Oh, no, he thought, his heart sinking. Someone beat buzzpopfeed to their info. He knew how clever people could be online; they found the tiniest clues and used them to sleuth vast swaths of information (once, a fan on Instagram had zoomed in on every toiletry behind him in a selfie he’d drunkenly taken in his bathroom and made a list of “Duncan Shepherd’s Go-To Grooming Must Haves”, which was published by a gossip site soon after). Seeing Kenzie run into One Franklin Square on camera was a dead giveaway, and he raked a hand through the curls at the side of his face in frustration. That was so fucking stupid of me. I should never have gotten out of the car after her. I should have controlled myself. And now people are trying to molest her at work. That’s my fucking fault. He wondered if it was buzzpopfeed that had found Kenzie on the opposite side of her building; they were notorious for breaking into private residences and crossing police lines, inventing elaborate scenarios to get onto upper hotel floors where they knew celebrities were staying, and wearing hidden cameras. That’s just the sort of shit they’d do, he thought. And if they got her on camera I don’t doubt it’ll be on their site soon.

He thought about going to the site to check, but stopped himself. I’m sure I’ll get another angry text soon enough from Mom if there’s something new, he told himself. And what, she’ll be angry at Kenzie for trying to leave work. As if there was an alternative.

But Mom: she’s easy to love. She’s so lovely. When you meet her, how could you not see it? Mom, I love her. You’ll see why; and then, you can’t tell me what I’m doing is wrong. Then you won’t be able to say I’m making a mistake.

The thought was like one he would have had when he was a child; lost in the orb of his mother, always admiring her, always certain with an unshakable conviction that she was right. Always sure that she knew what was best. The innocence of the thought struck him; even if he knew now that his mother was far from perfect, and that her intentions were often underhanded, he couldn’t shake the hope that she would warm to Kenzie in time. The alternative was unthinkable.

Samuel pulled up, Ella drifting quietly from the interior: your daddy’s rich, and your mamma’s good-lookin’...so hush little baby...baby, don’t you cry...Duncan pulled the door open, letting the warm evening air drift over him and push his hair back, a strange wave of nostalgia washing over him; a mixture of sadness and hopeful longing. If such a wonderful, fateful thing could happen to him; meeting her at all, finding her at all, in a world of so many people walking past each other every day without a second glance, surely the miracle of his mother accepting and loving her could, too, come to pass. O Fortune, like the Moon of ever-changing fate, ever waxing, ever waning...where had he heard that before? The line echoed in his mind as Samuel pulled away from the curb, and they were both silent, a quiet understanding passing between them; Duncan nodded to Samuel through the mirror; thank you. Thank you for taking care of my Kenzie today. Samuel’s eyes seemed to glow in the dim light; seemed to him like twin moons in a black sky.

I’m so glad you’re okay, baby, he texted Kenzie. I’ll be home soon. I can’t wait to hold you in my arms.

------

An hour later, Duncan stepped out of the BMW in front of his high-rise with a very distinct blue box tucked carefully under his arm; his eyes glided up to the 30th floor, where he knew he could sometimes see into the long window of his penthouse if the light was right in the evening. He could see the reading lamps near the window were turned low; could see the reflection of light coming from where the kitchen and dining room were to the north end of building, but he couldn’t see Kenzie; she wasn’t near the window, it seemed. An almost-vanished sliver of moon hung over it, like the rind of a melon devoured. He walked quickly into the building, anxious to be near her; the doorman, Jerry, nodded to him with familiarity. “Mr. Shepherd, fine night.”

“It really is, Jerry, hey,” Duncan moved past him, giving Anchaly a nod. Anchaly gave him a knowing smile; his copy of Tropic of Cancer catching Duncan’s eye for a moment. “Enchanting,” Anchaly said as he walked past, eyeing the blue box under his arm. “She walks in beauty, like the night / of cloudless climes and starry skies--” Duncan grinned at him, heading to the elevators, feeling flushed. “And all that’s best of dark and bright / meet in her aspect and her eyes,” he finished, as the doors slid open.

“Just so,” Anchaly agreed, and turned back to his book.

Duncan looked at himself in the long mirror as it climbed, unaware that Kenzie had done the same only a few short hours before; his hand pressed along the smooth line of his leather jacket, only just now remembering he’d worn the same clothes for two days. He sniffed his armpit carefully; not too bad, considering. He ran a nervous hand through his hair; still nervous, he wondered. Still trembling to behold her grace. I hope that feeling never fades. I don’t know how it could. He thought of how she’d looked clutched against him in this mirror, in that haze of their first night together; how it had made his cock throb, his nerves set on fire, her little body pressed to him, his hands in her hair. He felt his cock growing hard now, pressing with urgency into the lining of his tailored slacks (her little tongue in my mouth, her little nipples in my fingers, my hand between her legs, her laugh, her smile, the light falling on her); he ran his fingers along the edge of the blue box, swallowing carefully, pressing a thumb along his jaw. The doors slid open, achingly, seemingly impossibly slow. He walked to his own door, heart thumping wildly, as though it belonged to her now; it’s because I belong to her now, he thought. And I’m happy to obey her every whim.

He used the second keycard he carried in his wallet to unlock the door; it was usually tucked into the inner lining of his wallet, but he’d moved it to the spot where the old one used to be in his billfold; the one that now belonged to her. As Duncan opened the familiar doorway of his apartment, warm, wonderful smells enveloped him; food smells, lovely and enticing and comforting.

“Kenzie?”

She emerged to his left; from the dining room, a room he never used, a room that would be gathering dust but for the housekeepers’ attentions. Kenzie’s face looked tired; there were small dark circles under her wide hazel eyes, and her cheeks were pale, but her lips were pink (like roses), as if rosy from hot liquid; she was wearing a little slip dress that fell almost to the floor, one of the straps falling down her arm, and its color reminded him of wine grapes firming on twisting vines. Her neck was bare and her hair fell around her shoulders, catching the light of the diamond-drop chandelier.

“Hey, baby,” she said quietly, and her eyes seemed dark again as they stared at each other for a long moment; green and bronze. “Hi.”

He put the blue box down on the stand by the front door, his eyes not moving from her face.

“Baby...” he whispered. He closed the distance between them, his hand coming behind her head and cradling it, the other falling down her cheek and neck to her shoulder and down her arm, feeling insistently, hungrily, with terrible relief. She fell into him with urgency, her hands grasping the lapels of his jacket with tight little fingers, her mouth opening to him with need. They stood this way for a moment that felt like an eon, a lifetime, pressing into each other, lost in the solace of each other; he thought again that he’d be happy to die now, breathing into her. She lifted her mouth away a little and he tried to follow her; “baby, today was the strangest day,” she whispered into him, closing her eyes, face lifted up to him, hands pressing up his arms.

“I’m so sorry I followed you out of the car--” he started, his voice tinged with the remorse he felt, tinged with regret.

“I’m not.” She looked into his eyes, her little body sighing. “I’m glad you did. Now everyone knows you’re mine.”

He smiled; his hands fell through her hair and down the small of her back, loving the smooth feeling of the dress through his fingers, the silky strands of her. He turned his face, kissing the corner of her mouth; he moved his lips so they trailed along her bottom lip, biting a little, sucking gently, and he was thrilled at the moan that seeped out of her, her eyes fluttering.

“I got something for you.” He stepped away from her, gently gripping her hand and pulling her along with him, towards where he’d left the blue box on the stand by the door. He stroked the contours of her knuckles and fingers for a moment as she glanced at the box, her face curious; then, with a small burst of excitement scattering through her eyes. He handed it to her with both hands, stepping close. “Oh, Duncan,” she murmured, looking up into his eyes again, making him shiver with the devotion he felt, frozen in her gaze.

She pulled at the white ribbon around it, the black lettering emerging from underneath it; Tiffany & Co. He took the ribbon gently so she could lift the lid, and as her eyes fell on what was inside, the little laugh of delight that escaped her filled his heart with tenderness that made him want to press his face to her neck. Inside the box was a platinum necklace on a long chain; the charm at the end of it was a crescent moon set with brilliant round diamonds, which immediately threw their glow against her face, under her eyes. “A moon,” she whispered.

“The moon on a string, for you,” he replied, grasping her hand again, pressing his thumb over it. “My beloved.”

“It’s perfect. It’s too much--” Her eyes took on that overwhelmed glimmer; he shook his head, pulling her mouth onto his again, shushing her worry.

“It’s not. It’s not nearly enough. I wish I could pull the real moon down and give it to you.”

She grinned into his lips. “That’s beautiful. But I don’t know what I’d do with the moon all to myself. The world needs her. I love her best where she is.”

“Of course you would say something like that,” he whispered into her, his thumb brushing a gently trail from her cheek to her earlobe, twisting a strand of golden-brown hair through his fingers.

“Like what?”

“Something so lovely, and so kind, and gentle.”

Her eyelids fluttered downwards as she blushed; he could feel her shaking a little under his touch. He gently lifted the necklace from the box, and he reached out with his long fingers, pressing the index of his left hand into the hollow of her throat, trailing it there.

“May I?”

She nodded, her green-tinted eyes staring at him again, her mouth open ever-so-little. She lifted her hair and turned, exposing the whiteness at the back of her throat, the bumps of her spine and the incline of her shoulder blades above the dip of the dress; he resisted the urge to kiss her there, later, and unclasped the hook, lifting it around her head, his fingers brushing against her with longing as he clasped it at the nape of her neck. She turned around again, facing him, a sweet smile playing at the corners of her lips; “how do I look,” she asked, her eyes falling into him.

“Like an angel,” he said, hands against her shoulders, fingers trailing. “Like a goddess.” And she did to him; the soft light on her skin and her hair, dazzling against the little round diamonds in the crescent moon, the shape of her little breasts pressing against the soft velvet of the lilac-colored dress. “You look like Persephone, goddess of spring.”

A strange look came into Kenzie’s eyes; one of a dawning realization, or a familiar deja vu; she brought her little hands to his cheeks, trailing them softly along the stubble on his jaw, onto the bottom of his lip; he pressed his mouth against her fingers, closing his eyes.

“Then that makes you my Hades, God of Wealth, King of the Underworld, Lord of the Dark Places.”

“Spooky.”

She giggled.

“Thank you, baby. I love it so much. I love you...so much.”

“I love you too, Kenzie. I love you.” He opened his eyes again to her; everything I have is yours now, he thought. Everything is for you. All of me.

“Come have dinner.” She smiled mischievously, pulling back from him. She held his hand and pulled him through the doorway into the room he never used; its centerpiece was the long cherrywood dining table that once belonged to Duncan’s great-grandfather, a piece passed down to him by his mother when he moved into his penthouse years ago. Kenzie had found one of the linen tablecloths packed away in the drawers of the darkwood sliding-door china cabinet Duncan never touched; it was carefully tucked around the table, and on it was a lovely spread; she’d moved some of the pillar candles from the coffee table into this room, lighting them in the center, and their warm glow dazzled into his eyes, making them tear.

“I made chicken and dumplings,” he heard Kenzie say softly. “It’s one of my favorites, my mom always made it for me when I was growing up, especially after she’d had a particularly hard day; now, to me, it’s always comfort food.” His eyes roved hungrily over the spread she’d created; his favorite shallow cooking pot full of fluffy dumplings covered in speckled parsley, and steamy, bright chicken stew; another platter had smoky tendrils of broccoli rabe, and a third had an array of colorful root vegetables, yellow beets and dark orange chopped carrots and purple turnips.

“Kenzie, this is wonderful,” he said, squeezing her hand. “Thank you for cooking for me. I’m so happy you did this for me.”

“I wanted to,” she said, shyly, the diamonds around her neck catching the light, her cheeks, pale when his eyes had first fallen on her, now glowing with her emotions and the touch of his fingers. “I wanted to make you something because you’ve been so wonderful...because you’ve made me feel so wonderful…”

“Kenzie, baby,” he couldn’t stop, he pulled her into him again, aching, his body shuddering into her, his lips falling along the side of her face, and she sighed into him, “God, I missed you so much today, I wanted to see you so much…”

“I felt the same way baby, I’m so happy you’re home--”

He pulled her hand up to his face, kissing her open palm with terrible softness, overcome.

“I’m starving,” he said, grinning at her, and she smiled back (my moonlight), kissing him, nodding, saying “Me too, let’s eat, let’s eat.”

-------

Over the dinner Kenzie had created for him, Kenzie told him about everything that had happened to her after she ran into One Franklin Square; “Ben Wilder is basically the Annette Shepherd of the Washington Post,” she said to him, her eyes flashing. “Everyone is terrified of him, and he demanded I get you to give him an interview. It’s impossible to hide any modicum of gossip from him.”

“I’ll give him an interview,” Duncan said between mouthfuls of Kenzie’s savory chicken and dumplings. God, this girl can cook. I can’t wait for us to cook something together, he thought. I can’t wait for us to cook together for so many nights to come. He watched her eyes goes dark with surprise at his words. “...You will?” He watched her fingers fall to the diamond moon hanging at her beautiful throat; Kenzie, baby, I love your fingers there, I love your fingers, my little moon, my Persephone--

“Of course.”

“Duncan, I work for The Washington Post.”

He laughed a little, drinking down a mouthful of the Grand Cru he’d opened for them, bringing the bottle over to him, pouring more into his crystal glass, pouring some into hers carefully. “Kenzie. I know.”

“So...how is that going to be okay with your mother?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll do it.”

Her eyes shone out at a him from where she sat across from him; he was at the head of the beautiful cherrywood table, and she was sitting in the seat to his left, facing the doorway to the kitchen, her little face soft in the candlelight.

“Okay,” she said, and the smile that spread over her cheeks was like the blush of spring flowers in the rain. He reached over to her; her fingers curled through his, and the energy that passed between them was like the rolling crash of thunder over an open plain; wide and intense and open and circling down into the cores of their bodies, through the fingers that touched. They gazed at each other for a moment, hands tightly together. Then, Kenzie grasped her wine glass in her little slender fingers, stood, and, still clasping his hand against hers, said, “I seem to recall a bold claim from this morning.”

He looked up at her; she glowed, and his breath fell away from him.

“A certain Prince of the Underworld, he of vast fortune and troves of gold and black flowers with silver stems, told me he was going to make me come...so...fucking...hard.”

Duncan smiled; smiled with an all-encompassing happiness that pierced into the center of him, one that made him want to scream with its intensity; he let go of her (I don’t want to) and wiped his mouth on the cloth napkin at his lap, but as he stood, she moved away from him, gazing coyly into his eyes as she did, over her shoulder, cradling the wine glass against her; come and get me, her eyes whispered. His groin shuddered with a coiled sort of agony and he pulled his own wine glass with him, languidly, following her slowly, leaning against the door to watch her move through the kitchen and the wide front room, flipping the light switch so they were bathed in darkness, as she moved towards where the long glass window stretched, its blank face gazing down on the city lights; the silky movement of the dress against her back and her ass, one of the straps falling down again, the incline of her breast almost completely visible to him, the waves of her hair down her back; Duncan imagined flowers tangled in the strands, peonies like the little flowers on the glass of water he’d pulled in her hand, roses like the roses on the balcony and in the bathtub, the candles clustered around them, her body hovering over him in the water, her fingers clutching at his stubble.

She gazed out onto the city, quietly, lost in her own thoughts again, it seemed; he felt like he could almost see the gentle cascade of her thoughts in this moment, the hazy warmth of the wine spreading through her, the pain and confusion of the day fading and spreading down into the city, away from them; he put this moment, looking at her, bathed in a soft glow, into the memories of her he would always cherish, always have locked in his heart. He watched as she sipped the wine, the crystal edge of the glass reflecting the golden helmet of Pallas Athena beside her.

“You know,” she said, as he moved towards her, carefully, “today, after I got here, I looked at your home for a long time. Its energy. Its spirit.”

“What did you see?” He couldn’t remove the longing from his voice; everything I want, everything I need, he thought. It’s you. Only you. He came up against the other side, against the wall of his study; he leaned against it, his arm propped up, trying to look out at the capital city’s glow; but his eyes turned to her, almost involuntary, lost in her.

She dipped her head down for a moment, thoughtful, her eyes to the steep incline of the ground, thirty stories down; the crystal glass glinted in her hand again, throwing stardust against her cheek.

“That you love art and beauty. That you love books. That you love the strength of women; the strength and yes, the beauty, and the beauty of men, too, I think. I think so. And that you have a great and hidden depth in you, Duncan Shepherd, one that perhaps not everyone around you sees; one that you hold secret, pressed against your heart.”

He kept his eyes on her. She turned to him, dazzling, soft, and he noticed her wine glass was almost empty now.

“I think you really are like the God of the Underworld; a prince on a cold throne. And I think you need a Queen made of Light who sees the light in you. And I think I am her.”

She stepped away from him once more; looking over her shoulder again, setting the crystal glass next to Athena, a swirl of red still in the bottom, moving on to the soft, low light of the bedroom. His breath seemed caught in his chest; he put his own glass, a little wine left in it, an offering, next to Nike, whom he stood near; bring me Victory, blessed Nike, whence I toil like the bees, you bring me honey--

As he entered the bedroom (quiet black sheets, the cover thrown back) he saw her pushing the dress from her shoulders, stepping out of it; she was naked underneath, and his nerves thrilled to realize she had been naked underneath it since he came home; thrilled at the secret she’d held that he had not realized, but she left the necklace on, the moon made of diamonds, and Kenzie looked over her shoulder at him, her long lashes languid as she laid down on the bed, sighing into it, bending one of her knees so her thigh fell over her sex, hidden from him just a little, her face turned to where he stood there at the door, leaning against it, staring over her.

Kenzie moved her legs apart, her sweet little sex opening to him, reminding him of that first night, days ago--

He pulled his jacket off quickly, about to pull his shirt off just as quick--but she murmured “slow, baby, I wanna watch you,” and he slowed himself; anything you want, angel, he thought. Whatever you want, now and always, and as he unbuckled his belt, now shirtless, he watched her little fingers go down between her legs and rub at her little clit, her mouth falling open.

“Baby, stop,” he said, firmly.

Her eyes widened at him; her finger paused its circles at her core.

“Put your hands up above your head. Against the headboard.”

Her eyes went darker; that glow, forest-green, haunting. Kenzie lifted her hands up, grasping onto the slats above her. Her mouth was still open, lips parted just a little, her breath coming out in tiny, quiet gasps.

“I’m gonna make you come.”

He watched the shiver fall down her body, starting at her shoulder, through her torso, her hips, her legs, to her toes. She gripped the slats harder, opening her mouth a little more. He pushed his pants and his briefs off his body, staring at her, his cock falling against his fingers for a moment, making him moan, and then he reached down and picked up his belt where he had dropped it; he let it hang carefully down from his hand for a moment, watched her eyes travel over it, a mixture of desire and apprehension in them, then he climbed onto the bed, between her legs; he didn’t touch her, but she wrapped her legs around his thighs, the head of his cock brushing for a second against the open lips of her sex, and they both shuddered. He lifted his arms up and pressed the smooth leather strap against her little wrists; she let out a moaning little cry that made his heart feel as thought it was going to burst out of him, but he concentrated on the task at hand; he wrapped the straps around two of the slats, buckling them together behind it, pulling the strap tight against her, not too tight, but enough to make it so she couldn’t move her wrists out of the belt; he watched her hands flex for a moment, and then he looked down into her wide hazel eyes; she nodded to him, eyes fluttering, and he moved his long hands down her arms, fingers closing over her round breasts and gripping the diamond moon above her breasts for a moment, down further as he moved his body back, hands on her waist and now her hips and now her thighs, pushing then further apart; he saw the little tears glittering in the corners of her eyes, felt the shiver of her body under his hot hands.

“Is it okay, baby?” he whispered, hesitating.

“Yes, baby, yes,” she whimpered, an edge in her voice that made him shake. “Yes, fuck, yes…”

He moved his head down to hover just above her folds, above the lip of her clit; his hair fell over his forehead, brushing her belly, the dip of her bellybutton; she shivered, crying out again; then he pressed his lips into her, his tongue laving out to urge against her core; he looked up as he did, watching her arms resist the constraint of his belt holding her for a moment, tight on her wrists, pressing into her skin, her little mouth stretching in need; “Duncan, fuck, ohhhh--”

“You like being tied up like that, baby?” he whispered, then he pressed his tongue against her again, long and slow and aching, and her hips bucked into him, and she let out a little shuddering cry that made him painfully hard, made his cock jump against the sheet.

“Y-y-es, baby, yes…”

He brought one of his large, long hands up, fingers curling; then he brought it down suddenly, a soft but sharp little slap onto the sensitive slit between her legs, and she cried out again, leather pressing into her little wrists.

“Did you like that?”

“Yes.” The tears glimmered in her eyes again; her cheeks were rosy, and he could see her pussy slowly turning dark pink from his attentions. “Yes. Do it again, baby.”

He lifted his hand again, his palm and fingers flat; this time he brought his hand down again, harder this time, slapping her clit with a rough immediacy.

“Fuuuuck, fuck!” Kenzie moaned. “Please, suck my clit, baby…”

Duncan leaned down, eagerly, his lips closing around the bud of her; he sucked deeply, carefully, his tongue swirling over her, and he felt her hips buck into him again, her moans strangled and needy and unwinding.

“Kenzie, I’m gonna make you come hard,” he whispered into her, his breath making her buck into him again, and again, her mouth a little O, her wrists shaking, “and then I’m gonna make you come again after that.”

“O-okay, baby,” and her voice was shuddering, high, driving him into white feelings of madness.

He worked his tongue against her again, and his fingers came up; he pressed two, his index and middle fingers, into the wet core of her body, curling them, flexing back and forth, his lips sucking into her clit again. She cried out again; “Baby, I am gonna fucking c-cu-um,” and he kept his mouth pressed heavily into her clit as she shuddered under him, his fingers still buried inside her pussy as her wetness fell against them, moisture gathering between the spaces of his digits, sweet-smelling and thick. She continued to shudder for some time; he laid his head gently into her abdomen, his fingers coming out of her, soaked with her, his hands pressing into her jutting hipbones, tracing them and leaving traces of wetness and his lips pressed into her skin, ignoring his own hardness, his own need, for the moment.

“Oh my god, oh my fucking godddd,” Kenzie moaned, and he looked up; tears coursed down her cheeks and her shoulders were shaking. Her hands were still clamped in the confines of his tight leather belt; he leaned up, reaching behind the slats, untying it, tossing it aside, gently grasping her wrists, bringing his lips to where they’d left red marks on her, kissing her tenderly.

“Are you okay, baby,” he whispered.

“Yes,” she whimpered, though tears still coursed from her eyes. “Yes.”

“Good. I’m gonna fuck you again now. And you’re gonna come for me again.”

Her eyes opened wide, wide from their fluttering, hazy half-lids; she gasped a little, and then she nodded, and she whispered “yes, baby, my Prince, fuck me hard now.”

He pulled her up, gripping her under her arms; “come here, baby, come with me,” he whispered, and her little naked body slipped off the bed as he pulled her, and he kissed her with his mouth open with fierce admonition, fingering the diamond moon at her breast in his large elegant hand and she lifted herself up to him and her tongue tangled against his and as he pulled her towards him he saw a glitter of moisture that slipped down her leg from her release. He gripped her hand tightly, pulling her from the bedroom; he led her to the window, his glass window, surveying all of the city, a wall of glass, and he pressed her hands against it tenderly in the darkness, the only light now shining below them, his mouth open under her ear, his body pressed against her back and her thighs, his cock hard between her legs, brushing against her cunt, sensitive and soaking wet, and she moaned again, her eyes looking back at him for a moment, then back at the lights below as his large hand came around her throat and he pressed his length into her, his other hand coming around to her clit, rubbing insistently.

“Isn’t it beautiful,” he whispered into her ear as he fucked her, raw and rough and with wild desire, and her little mouth hovered over the glass, her breath cascading in clouds against it, her fingers curling where they were pressed, fingers splayed, her knees buckling just a little against him, her ass moving back to press into him as his fingers bored into her core and pressed harshly into her neck, her hips moving against him, her feel tip-toed to reach up to his height, her eyes looking out, glancing up at their reflection over her shoulder. “Almost as beautiful as you are, but nothing is, no one is, nobody is as beautiful as you are, Kenzie, my angel--” Duncan could see the outline of them there too, in the reflection, his hair tossed against his forehead, his mouth open in a mixture of lust and concentration, her wide eyes turned up almost into her head as she gasped, and he moved the hand from her neck to twist around her chestnut hair, pulling it tight, bringing her head back with a soft jerk, and she moaned “oh goddd--” and ground against him again, ground down onto him so he was completely buried inside her. His index finger was grinding circles into the side of her clit; he moved it down to where moisture was dripping down her leg, dripping down the length of his cock as he pulled in and out of her, and gathered it on his finger, bringing it back to her clit, soaking wet--

“Baby, I’m--I’m gonna come again, I’m gonna--”

This time, Kenzie’s little body rocked back onto him, her fingers clenching into fists on the glass, her cunt spasming down onto his length with a force that brought stars behind his eyes, and he watched the glitter of the diamonds at her neck reflect in the glass. “Fu-u-uuck my pussy, fuck my little cunt with your big cock,” Kenzie cried out, and he lifted out of her and plunged back, feeling the vague outline of her cervix brushing his head; then, Kenzie screamed; she screamed and her body began to shake, to vibrate against him, the lips of her so far down on his cock that they brushed against his balls, and he felt another cascade of moisture seep out of her, this one more intense than the first, dripping down his testicles in rivulets, and he shuddered a hallucinatory release into her that made him blind for a moment, his cock immediately sensitive and painful with its intensity, his voice crying out “Fuck, fuuuck, I wanna be inside you forever, Kenzie, goddess, I wanna fuck you until I die--”

They leaned heavily into each other for a moment; her cunt spasming up onto his cock, his cock shuddering into tenderness inside her; then he pulled out and Kenzie slid, weakly, to the floor, breathing heavily, her little breasts shuddering.

“Oh baby, are you alright--” Duncan immediately crouched to her, avoiding the sensitive area between his thighs, his eyes widening with alarm; he tucked a hand around the crook of her neck, the other hand coming around her waist and holding her up as he gently pushed her head towards him; her breathing was heavy and her eyes fluttered once more, half in and half out of consciousness. He pressed his fingers against her cheek softly, tapping it a little; her eyes trembled open, and the look she gave him was one of supple, dream-like trust.

“Oh, baby,” she whispered. “Oh, Duncan.” Her eyes hovered between opening and closing; her breath slowed, and she murmured “I’m so sleepy, baby,” and they closed and she was hovering there in his arms, breathing softly, lost in her post-coital euphoria.

Duncan pressed a kiss to her cheek; he hovered there, breathing in the smell of her skin, then he hitched his arm around the back of her knees and the other around her shoulders, and he picked her up, carrying her into the bedroom and onto the bed, where he pulled the sheets and the duvet over her little body; my poor angel, my poor sweet baby, he thought. I have to talk to her about a bodyguard tomorrow, I know she won’t want one, but I have to convince her it’s for the best, god, I have to. He watched the shadow of her eyelashes against her cheek, the slow breath that moved her body under the blanket, the slow shadow of her heartbeat against her throat. Then he moved towards the bathroom; his groin was still soaked in her release, his cock still throbbing as he came down from his orgasm; he went to one of the drawers under the bathroom sink to get the wet wipes he always stored there (a million uses) and paused, his heart in his mouth, as he saw her little toiletries lined along one side of the sink, the side he’d cleared for her; his on the left, hers on the right. The dark red bottle of her perfume; he pulled it over to him and brought his nose to the nozzle, breathing in; roses, vetiver, geranium, and his body sighed into the smell, the smell that was her. A little black hairbrush rested on the edge of the sink; strands of her chestnut hair glinting in it. A little eyeliner stick, a tube of lipstick, a stick of mascara, a bottle of face wash. All her little things, the little pieces of her. His immaculate grooming supplies were on the opposite side, spotless and still; hers threw warmth into the space, made his cheeks blush; he wanted to touch everything, kiss each of her belongings, memorize their shape. Duncan felt overcome again; it was as if her things had always been missing before, leaving a Kenzie-shaped hole, one he didn’t know existed, but could feel, somewhere in his hidden heart. And now, they weren’t missing anymore. Here they were. He could reach out and touch them, like he could reach out and touch the smooth contour of her skin, the waves of her hair, where she slept in his bed. Our bed, he thought, smoky desire drifting, cleaning himself up, shivering as the cold wipe touched his still-sensitive cock; using another one under his arms, at the back of his neck. Our bathroom. Our apartment. I’m going to ask her to move in with me. How can I keep her safe if she isn’t here with me? How can I sleep without her now? He imagined reporters hounding her as she tried to leave for work in the morning; imagined people trying to get into her apartment building at night, trying to look in her windows. The thought absolutely chilled him. I’ll ask her. I want to soothe the worry I saw in her eyes tonight. I don’t want her to worry about anything, or anyone. And I don’t want to sleep alone anymore.

Duncan left the bathroom, naked, flipping the light-switch, but not before one long, last glance at Kenzie’s little things on the sink; he smiled, his heart full. He turned towards the closet, eyes falling over Kenzie where she slept again; she was breathing slowly now, far away, the diamonds still glinting at her throat; he went to her softly, unclasping the necklace at the nape of her neck, gently lifting it away from her so she wouldn’t wake, pressing the softest, lightest of kisses into her cheek, his heart on fire. He put it on the side-table, noticing her phone there; it was turned over so he could see its gold case and the moon sticker on it, fading away from use; he trailed one finger over it, lovingly, then turned and walked into his closet. Duncan bent to the drawer, in search of sweatpants, but he stopped, noticing the little outfits that now hung in the space he’d cleared for them; her clothes in my closet--our closet, he thought, and looked down on the shelf below, where there were a few other things stacked in a row; a little black bag, some little moon and star jewelry. Her little things. His chest swelled with longing; he wanted all of her things here, all of her, kissing him, blessing him; he longed not to be greedy, not to ask too much of her too soon, but he thought again of paparazzi outside her house and his mind clouded with concern, resolving to ask her in the morning. He pulled on the sweatpants, wincing as the waistband brushed against his cock, then, he moved out towards the kitchen (he paused, eyes falling on her hair tossed over the pillow tenderly, her little hand clutched against her mouth) and into the dining room, to clean up the dishes.

#millory #millory au #duncan shepherd #duncan shepherd au #house of cards au #michael x mallory #duncan x mackenzie #duncan shepherd x mackenzie stone #duncan shepherd x mallory #cody fern #billie lourd #cody x billie #collie #ahs apocalypse #body and soul #body and soul au #my fic

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yoosungiib · 7 years

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I’d like to request MC going through a bad emotional breakdown (can be caused by a really bad fight with the RFA or whatever you want) that causes a lapse in her memory. Like, she’s so out of it during her meltdown that she doesn’t realize where or who she’s with and the RFA are really worried and trying to bring her back to reality. I’d also like the minor trio included. If it’s too much you don’t have to do it!

Of course I can, darling. Ah~, do I love me some angst and some fluff! ;D I’ll say this quickly, I’ve had incidents where I’ve had breakdowns or panic attacks and I’ve had memory lapses, so I kinda based these off of my own experiences, and how others like my parents and friends will help me.

If there is anything you think I did wrong, or not accurately to yours, if that is what you are implying, please tell me and I will do my best to fix it. Thank you! :)

Seven and Saeran’s were my favorites by the way~ ;) it’s no surprise that Saeran’s was my favorite~ but I just thought I’d share :D

RFA + Minor Trio reacting to MC having a bad emotional breakdown that causes a short memory lapse due to an argument

~~~

★ Yoosung ★

It was an accident, but Yoosung didn’t think so; you guys had been arguing over the amount of time Yoosung was spending playing video games for a couple weeks now. You tried to lay off him after he confessed he felt like you were trying to control him, but you couldn’t help that it bothered you how much more time he seemed to like spending playing video games then actually spending time with you.

So of course when you accidently spilt your tea on his computer when you tripped on one of his LOLOL guides mind you, he immediately presumed you did it on purpose because you didn’t want him playing anymore, and boy was he furious.

“Yoosung, I promise it was an accident!” You exclaim, already getting yourself worked up as tears brimmed in your eyes, and you found yourself becoming light headed and stressed. He looked so angry, and angry Yoosung can either be funny or terrifying, and as of now, it was terrifying.

“So what are you then, careless? Or just stupid? Do you think I’m really so gullible as to believe this is just a coincidence after all the badgering you’ve been doing on how much I play?”

“Yoosung, please-”

“No! What’s wrong with me playing every once in awhile? You say that I don’t leave enough time for you when I’m providing for you, making sure food is on the table, dammit, you don’t even have a job! And so what I just want to take a break and play one match? God, it’s like I can’t do anything with my free will anymore!”

“Please, Yoosung, stop,” you cried.

“Save it,” he snapped, turning around from you, grabbing a paper towel and angrily beginning to clean up the mess on his desk. “I don’t want to hear it anymore.”

“Y-Yoosung, please, I can’t… I swear, I didn’t…”

Your knees suddenly buckled, and you fell against the hard bedroom floor, meekly reaching your arms out to stop yourself. It was like a damn had been broken as your tears fell from your eyes, gliding down your face like streams. You were panting heavily, and you rolled onto your side, pulling your knees up to your chest, rocking a little as you sobbed and clutched at your head.

Yoosung stopped his cleaning and instantly felt guilty when he saw you on the ground having your breakdown. He tossed the rag across the room and slid across the floor to you. He didn’t know if he should touch you, so his hands first hovered over your body as he said, “I’m sorry, honey, I shouldn’t have shouted. I’m so sorry!”

You clearly were not comprehending anything he was saying, so he slowly lifted your upper body from the ground and pulled you against his chest, cupping your head and holding it against his shoulder. “Where am I, who are you, I don’t understand, p-please.” Yoosung was concerned and really confused; he’s seen you have panic attacks before, or a few breakdowns, but never anything like this. You just seem so much more distraught and disoriented. I mean, you’re here saying you don’t know where you are or who you’re with, so of course he’s incredibly confused and a little lost at what to do.

He gulps, continuing to pet your hair and rock you a little. “It’s me, baby, it’s Yoosung,” he starts, voice cracking a little as he feels himself starting to cry, heartbroken at your state. “We’re in our bedroom, in our apartment.”

Slowly he pulls you up, helping you onto your feet. He takes you out of the bedroom and walks you around the house, careful of your wobbly legs, and very aware of the fact you are still hyperventilating a bit. He keeps an arm wrapped around you, and guides you, pointing things out. He stops when he finds Lisa at her food bowl, staring up at the rather distraught couple. He chuckles lightly and picks the small kitten up, placing her into your hands and wrapping your fingers around it’s tiny body. “This is our kitty, Lisa! She’s beautiful isn’t she? Do you remember Lisa? Are you remembering where you are now?”

You slowly nod, snuggling the kitten against your chest, nestling your cheek against the top of it’s head. Yoosung sighs, smiling as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you close. “I’m so sorry, MC. I was so mean, I’m sorry. I didn’t take your anxiety into account when I was yelling, a-and I know you would have never spilt your tea on purpose. I’m so sorry.”

You nod, smiling softly and accepting his apology quietly. Yoosung is very doting and affectionate for the rest of the day. He orders takeout, leaves the mess for later, and just spends the day looking after you.

He feels really terrible about what happened– he honestly doesn’t know what to do at first to help you other than just a lot of cuddling and kissing, and saying quite a lot that he is just so sorry. He never wants to see you experience something like that again.

♪ Zen ♪

The fight happened to be over money. It was no secret to anyone in the RFA that money was tight for you guys, even with Zen’s flourishing career. You had a small job that paid small, and theatre actors don’t normally get paid. And if they do get paid, it’s not a lot. Even when in movies, he doesn’t get paid enough.

You could tell Zen was really frustrated about the money situation. For one, he wished he had enough money in the world so he could buy you more stuff, take you places and treat you to things, but some nights, you guys could barely afford dinner.

Zen is usually really good about keeping his emotions in check, not letting his anger or frustration get to him, but when he finds out that you, Seven and Yoosung went out for dinner for a catch up, and you paid for the meal, he was furious for two reasons; One, he’s jealous, and two, you couldn’t afford to pay for three meals!

“What were you thinking!?” he barked, the booming in his voice startling you, causing you to flinch. “You know we cannot afford to take people out to dinner.”

“It was the least I could due-”

“Least you could do? You didn’t need to do anything?! You didn’t owe them anything! Why did you even have to go out with them anyways? All you have done now is waste our money!” You take a deep breath, feeling your chest clench up and breathing become harder.

You reach out to Zen, hoping to calm him down some bit with simple affection, but just as your fingers brush against his he yanks his hand away, mumbling under his breath he can’t deal with this before going into the bedroom and slamming the door.

You feel your heart sink as you sit outside the door, your back against the hardwood and your knees pulled to your chest. You tried to talk to him through the door but he ignored you, and at one point you were pretty sure you smelt smoke so you had a feeling he was smoking in there, which any day would bother you to no wits end, yet at this moment all you wanted was him to talk to you again.

The attack hit you quickly. Suddenly, you were unable to breath, and your hands were tingling, numb, and you could feel sweat pooling at your hairline and dripping down your forehead. “Please, please, I…,” you couldn’t form any proper words as your memory seemed to be fading, and you couldn’t hold onto it.

The door behind you opened, and you felt warm arms wrapping around you from behind, however, you couldn’t quite grasp who it could be. For some reason, you couldn’t remember where you were, who you were with, what was happening, and it was making you panic even more. But the warm embrace was comforting, and you gripped the arms that were clutching onto you.

“Breathe, princess. Take a deep breath, ok? Ready, breath in… breath out. Just like that, you’re doing great,” he praises.

“I don’t know what’s happening, where am I?” you ask, your voice quivering.

Zen moves you so your facing him on his lap, peppering kisses on your face and rubbing your back. “You’re at home, and you’re safe. You’re in your prince charming’s arms, and I will always keep you safe,” he says, still kissing you.

After a couple more minutes or so, your memories come back and you feel your panic attack subsiding. You relax against his chest, breathing in his scent from his shirt. “I’m sorry, Zen,” you whisper. Zen smiles gently, apologizing too for yelling. The rest of the day, he completely showers you with affection; tons of cuddles, fun in bed~, and letting you chose the games and movies you guys watch that night.

❀ Jaehee ❀

That atmosphere of your shared apartment is nothing close to tranquility as the two of you stressed out over the tardiness for the arrival of new plates and mugs. Jaehee was practically pulling her hair out, and you chewed at your lip, waiting by the door for the new china to arrive. It wasn’t that you guys were particularly low on plates, but with the cafe getting more popular, and lots of plates being broken in the past, new ones were in need.

Finally, the plates and mugs arrive, and you take the box from the postman and rush up the stairs to the apartment. Unfortunately, you miscalculated a step and tripped, dropping the package in the process, causing the box to fall down the flight of stairs, and the plates and mugs inside to shatter.

Jaehee hearing the sound of broken glass drops everything and runs to the stairs. You looked up from your position sprawled on the stairs, and you watch as her face contorts to concern, and then anger in a flash. She glares down at you and her face becomes a bright red. At the top of the stairwell, she shouts down at you, “You’ve got to be kidding me!” Her voice echoes, bouncing off the walls, and you bow your head in shame as you slowly start to pick yourself up.

“Do you realize what you’ve done? How much money we spent on all that new china, and now it lays a shattered mess at the bottom of the stairs? How absent minded are you.”

You gulp, a single tear slipping from your eyes. “I’m sorry, Jaehee, I really am-”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it, MC. We can’t afford another batch of plates. What are we going to do, MC? You tell me,” she demands. You stay silent, besides a few more tears falling, and your anxiety getting worse. You try to form a response but you’re unable to. “Tell me, MC, tell me!” Jaehee shouts, and you jump, your body trembling.

“I don’t know, I don’t know, I…” you don’t know. You don’t know anything, literally. You suddenly can’t remember where you are. You suddenly can’t remember what happened. You suddenly can’t remember who Jaehee is; your mind goes blank and you try to put all the pieces together and joggle you memory, shaking your head and banging the side of it, but nothing seems to come back to you.

And then the panting begins. Still on the stairs, you rock back and forth, looking around you frantically, and pulling your knees to your chests and clutching them tightly.

You shut your eyes, and listened to the sound of the stairs creaking, and you felt the sudden presence of a body besides you. Jaehee takes a deep breath, pulling herself into check before resting a hand on the top of your knee since you sit with your back against the wall and feet rested on the stairs. “Ok, MC,” she says gently, after a while carefully taking a hold of your hand, rubbing the top your hand in gentle circles with her thumb. “Let’s breathe together.”

“I don’t know where am I, where am I, I don’t-”

“MC,” she says gently interrupting you. “Calm down. We’re in our apartment complex, we are on the stairs, and through that door is our home, ok? Nod if you understand.” You slowly nod, feeling your senses coming back to you.

“Ok, can you tell me who I am?” You nod and tell her her name, barely above a whisper, and Jaehee smiles. “Good. Are you feeling better? Your breathing sounds much better, dear.” You nod once again. “That’s good again. Here, let’s get you inside and something to drink.”

Suddenly remembering the plates, you turn towards the box that lays on the ground, some plates flooding out of it, and you try to move to it mumbling you need to ‘fix things.’ But Jaehee gently grabs your arm, pulling you away and telling you she’ll deal with it in a bit, or she’ll call someone to help out with the mess.

She sits you on the couch and goes to make you a cup of tea. She comes back a few minutes later with a steaming cup, and carefully puts it in your hands. She sits besides you, watching you carefully as you stare aimlessly into the glass with a glum look. “Are you ok, MC?”

“Are you still mad at me?” you ask quietly, not meeting her gaze but continuing to look into the tea. Jaehee sighs, scooching closer to you and wrapping her arms around you.

“MC, I’m not happy, but I’m not mad either. It was an accident, and I was just frustrated and a little harsh with you. For that I apologize.” You nod, a small smile gracing your features. Jaehee grins, patting your head with her hand so it can then rest on her shoulder. “Now, I was gonna save this for a surprise, but I don’t see why not show it to you now, but… I got us a copy of Zen performing in Zekyll and Hyde!! What do you say we watch it?”

☂ Jumin ☂

guys, totally paired Yoosung and Zen together here, this is my ship!

Though Jumin may deny it, or pass it off as him just be protective, ona quote-on-quote ‘healthy level,’ Jumin is a jealous man. And he has a tendency to become jealous whenever he says a man look at you, or more importantly, whenever you have your movie nights with Zen and Yoosung.

For one, he’s already bothered that he is not allowed to come under Zen’s request. It is Zen’s house afterall. And two, though the two men, Zen and Yoosung, made their relationship official only a couple months ago, he still has his suspicions that Zen has some sort of feelings for you. Maybe even Yoosung for that matter!

But of course, he doesn’t stop you from going to these movies nights because as much as he wants to, he knows it would be controlling you, and that isn’t fair, and though he is your husband, it doesn’t give him a right to do that. However, he draws the line when you decide to stay the night with Zen and Yoosung after a movie ran late. When Driver Kim came home empty handed, without you, Jumin was furious and demanding his driver to take him to the residence of Zen and Yoosung.

He knocked on the door, his fists practically banging on the hardwood, and of course it was Zen who answered and immediately had his own scowl on his face, telling Jumin to go away since he disturbed all their sleeps. Hearing the commotion and the arguing between the two, you exited the spare room and rushed over, seeing Jumin in the doorway clearly very upset.

“Jumin? Darling? Why are you here-”

“I need to talk to you,” he cuts you off. Zen continued to quarrel with Jumin, but Yoosung, very tired and in his onesie, gently pulled Zen away telling Zen to let them talk. Guys, this is my SHIP!

“Are you ok, Jumin?”

“No, I am not ok,” he snaps, you and him now standing in the center of the room. You jump a little, crossing your arms in front of your chest and give him a concerned look. You debate on walking closer to him and maybe trying to give him a comforting touch, but you decide it’s probably better to give him some space for now. From the short distance you are away from him, you can see his is clearly angry and cleary has no control of his emotions at the moment. It’s a little frightening to be honest. He is not someone you generally want to make angry. “What the hell are you thinking staying the night with two men who are not your husband? It’s bad enough that I let you come here anyway at odd hours, but now you want to be sleeping here?”

“Jumin, I’m sorry, I really didn’t think it was a big deal. The movie just ran late and I didn’t want to make Driver Kim wait any longer.”

Jumin flairs his nostril, huffing before laughing exasperated. “MC, it’s his job to drive us around, it’s not your concern whether or not he’s out too late or not – I give him a pretty good paycheck for it.” You nod slowly, ready to say something but he cuts you off again, his voice become gradually louder too. “And that is besides the point! You should be at home with me, with your husband. I don’t trust these two for you to be alone with them. You have no idea what they would do.”

“Jumin, please, you know they would never do anything, we’re just friends. And can you please stop shouting, I know you’re upset but it’s really stressing me out,” you said, taking a step closer to him and reaching out your hand to take his. But for some reason, that seemed the be the last straw for him, and he hollered without even thinking, “You’re stressed out!? How the hell do you think I feel!?” You gasped, stepping backwards a couple steps. Immediately, Jumin felt guilty for yelling, and yelling so close to your face. His face softened when he saw the look of horror and fear on your face. He was about to apologize but you suddenly collapsed on the ground, your knees buckling and your hands reaching out to stop yourself from partially belly flopping on the ground.

Jumin recognized right away that you were entering a panic attack or a break down, and he sprinted towards you, falling to the ground besides you and yanking you onto his lap. He had his arm wrapped around you back, and he pushed the loose strands of hair away from your face, then cupping your cheek that was becoming soggy from tears. “MC? Can you hear me? You’re ok, shh,” he soothes.

You mutter a few things, at first incomprehensible, but then he can hear you clearly when you say, “Where am I?” a few times, over and over again.

“We’re at Zen and Yoosung’s home, darling. Remember? You came here for movie night?” You shake your head frantically, and Jumin shouts for Zen and Yoosung. The two men come out, and the moment they see you and Jumin on the ground, they are running to you guys.

“What happened? Should I call an ambulance-”

“What movie were you guys watching?” Zen stops, looking at Jumin with a dumbfounded look.

“What?”

“What fucking movie were you watching?!”

“The Bee Movie!” Yoosung shouts rushing back in with a glass of water, handing it Jumin who yanks it out of his hand and brings to your mouth, helping you to drink it since you are shaking so much. “We were watching The Bee Movie, it was my choice since I thought it would be-”

Jumin cuts Yoosung off, gently pressing the cool glass against your face, saying, “Remember? Is it coming back to you, love?” A small smile graces Jumins features. He feels his own tears brimming in his eyes, pain in his heart seeing you so disoriented and lost, and it hurts more knowing he caused this. “You remember who I am, right? Jumin, you’re husband. And Zen and Yoosung, they’re,” he nearly gags here, “your best friends.”

Slowly, you begin to calm down, your breathing coming back to a normal pace, and though you’re incredibly pale and flushed, you are more relaxed. You rest against Jumin, too tired to do or say anything. The four of you just sit there, Jumin rubbing your back and stroking your arms, peppering a few kisses to the top of your head. After awhile, you fall asleep against him, and Zen shows him to the guest bedroom, Jumin carrying you bridal style. He rests you under the covers, tucking it up to your chin, and he bends down to kiss your cheek. “I’ll come back for her in the morning. Please take care of him, and watch over her if possible,” Jumin says rather glumly, his head slightly bowed as he walks towards the door. His breath hitches however when he feel’s Zen’s hand on his shoulder.

“Stay with her, man. She’s gonna need her husband the most, alright?” Jumin nods, agreeing with Zen and giving a small thank you before walking back to the guest room. Before entering, he turns around slowly to face Zen who is cleaning up some of the mess from movie night, and says,

“I’m sorry about this.” Zen stops to look up at Jumin, his eyes widening slightly. “Really, I am.” Zen lets out a small laugh, coming over to pat Jumins shoulder and saying, “I know you are. Now go to your wife.” Jumin chuckles, closing the door and sliding under the covers besides you, still in his suit. He cuddles up to you, and he grins when you unknowingly in your sleep cuddle up to him. He wraps his arms around you and tucks your head beneath his chin. It takes him a while to fall asleep, since he wants to make sure you are ok and comfortable, and that nothing disturbs your sleep. During that time he stays awake, he thinks of all the ways he plans to spoil you.

☺ Seven/Saeyoung ☺

To say you were stressed and a little unhinged with how Seven was acting since he got to your apartment, which was once Rika’s, would be an understatement. No, you were beyond stressed at this point, finding yourself alone in your room having to pull your emotions into check as you would cry, thinking of the hurtful things he said to you.

Everything you did in an attempt to get closer to him, to help him, to comfort him always backfired in your face, since instead of accepting anything from you, he’d only yell and say something hurtful. Usually it would be a jab at your intelligence, or a reminder that he didn’t care for you or how you felt whatsoever. And after he dismissed you harshly, you managed to make it seem like you didn’t care, and his words did not affect you like they really did. But then you went to your room, locked the door, and hid under your covers, silently crying yourself to sleep.

You didn’t want him to push you away anymore. You understood why he was doing it; he was upset, broken, felt betrayed by his father figure, was scared – you understood! And you wanted to help him because you loved him. But he wouldn’t let you.

You had just finished making spaghetti for dinner. Seven was still in the corner, his back towards you as usual and his headphones covering his ears. You could hear what sounded like strange music blasting through the headphones, slightly muffled. You scooped some spaghetti into a bowl for yourself, and in a bowl for him, and you carried it over to him, placing it on the floor besides him. But in a second of the bowl touching the ground, his hand shot out and he shoved it across the room, some of the spaghetti falling from the sides.

You sighed, gently sitting on your knees a short distance away from him. You took the bowl and pushed it back to him, and this time he didn’t touch it, just glared at it and you from the corner of his eyes. “Seven, please eat. I know you haven’t eaten in at least a day.” After saying that, you realized there was no way he could have heard you with his headphones on. Taking a deep breath you reached over to take his headphones off but seeing you in the corner of his eyes, he is quick in turning towards you, grabbing a hold of your wrist and startling, taking his headphones off himself but only so he can yell at you.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?” he shouts, his voice booming throughout the apartment. Your breathing becomes heavier, but you remain calm, pulling your wrist out of his grasp and taking a deep breath.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s just you need to eat.”

Seven scoffs, slamming his computer shut and spinning his whole body around to face you properly. “Well you have upset me,” he says, a deep frown on his face. Your breath hitches at the dark tone in his voice, and you keep your gaze down, not wanting to look him in the eyes. “What I need is for you to leave me alone so I can work. So please, for the love of god, just go away.” He turns back to work, slowly opening the computer back up and moving to put his headphones back on, but when he sees that you haven’t moved a budge, he snaps, “Why are you still here?”

Trying your best not to cry, though tears were burning behind your eyes, you asked rather meekly and desperately, “Please stop doing this to me.” Your voice was so quiet that Seven almost didn’t hear you. “It really hurts me,” you say. Seven feels a pain in his heart, though he keeps a straight face as he stares at you. God, does it hurt him to be hurting you like this, but yet he can’t stop himself. He doesn’t want you in danger, and the only way he knows how to stop you from being in danger is by pushing you away and making sure you know that he is too dangerous. But the both of you know deep down no matter what he says, you will not leave him. You love him so much. Still, he does not stop.

“I don’t care about your feelings,” he says curtly.

“I don’t think that’s true,” you say, but stopping yourself from saying anymore as you see Seven start to rise, you jumping to your feet too as you back away from him, slightly alarmed at the grave look on his face.

“Oh, yeah?” he snides, taking a few more steps to you, you walking away from him until you can’t go any further since your back is against the wall. “Do you want to know what I really care about, MC? What I care about is finding my brother who I’ve only just found out has been used and manipulated for these past years when I thought he was safe!” He shouted, causing you to jump and turn your face away, clenching your eyes shut. “I care about bringing him home, and curing him, and maybe I would have done that by now if it wasn’t that I have to worry about you, or you didn’t bother me so damn much.”

Seven shuts up instantly when your face crumpled and tears started to flow down your cheeks. It wasn’t just simple crying, but full on sobs into your hands, your whole entire body shaking and racking with sobs. “Shit,” he mutters, realizing he went way too far. He doesn’t know what to do for a minute, and he justs stares at you crying. He goes to reach for you but you suddenly push past him, tripping on your feet a bit as you run through the door of the apartment.

He is quick on your tail, shouting your name as you run into the empty elevator, falling to the ground against the elevator walls. He falls besides you, his arms wrapping around you and he slams his fist against the emergency button as the elevator starts to move down. He cradles your head against his chest, allowing you to sob uncontrollably into his shirt. I fucked up, I fucked up, he thinks to himself. He wants to panic and cry himself, but what is more important to him is calming you down. “MC? MC, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean that, I promise you, I meant none of that.”

“Where am I? I don’t understand, where am I, what’s happening?” He’s confused for a moment, but then he figures you are having a memory lapse due to all your emotions running wild and probably a high blood pressure. Now he really is about to have a panic attack, but he takes a deep breath, rubbing your arms as he pulls you off his chest and rests you against the elevator wall. He moves to sit on his knees in front of you, and he takes a gentle hold of your hands, massaging the top of them with his thumb.

“We are in an elevator, MC. We are in your apartment complex. You live in the apartment that used to belong to Rika, the head of the RFA, but it’s now your home, do you remember, honey?” he asks. You don’t make any indication of knowing what he’s talking about, so he sighs and then asks, “You know who I am right? 707! Some people call me Seven, or even better, Defender of Justice. I make a lot of jokes in our RFA chat room that you seem to like. Here’s one now! What’s 6 inches long, 2 inches wide and drives me wild? That cash from Jumin Han!” wow, hilarious

You snort, your hand going to your mouth as you start to laugh, and Seven laughs along with you, slowly letting go of your hands then cupping your face, stroking your cheek gently. “I love that smile,” he whispers. He slowly sits next to you, his back against the wall, and he holds your hand, the both of you sitting together in silence for awhile. “I’m so sorry,” he says breaking the silence after ten minutes or so.

“It’s ok,” you say quietly.

Seven shakes his head, squeezing your hand and looking towards you. “No, it’s not. I shouldn’t have said that because it’s not true. I care about you so much, MC.

“Really?”

“Yes,” he says with a smile, leaning down to press his lips against yours. The two of you smile into the kiss, and he pulls you onto this lap. The both of you stay in the elevator for awhile, not wanting to move or come out of eachothers embraces, but just enjoy finally getting to be in eachothers arms.

❆ V ❆

this isn’t a real argument because I don’t see you guys fighting unless it’s over Rika, and I don’t feel like talking about her right now, nuh uh

It was quite the grand ball that Jumin had invited you and V too, and unfortunately, it therefore made anxiety a greater matter for you as you found yourself overwhelmed by all the people and all the guests. But V and had been looking forward to this party since it meant he was going to have time with Jumin, and he had rarely been able to see Jumin after being in Paris and his busy work schedule. So you pretended to not be really freaking out on the inside, and acted as if you were fine and unbothered by anything.

But as the night continued, and you found it harder and harder to contain your anxiety, you couldn’t help but rush to find V, who stood admiring some flowers in a garden and taking a few pictures while Jumin went to get wine, and start to beg him to take you home.

At this point, you were not particularly in full on panic mode, so when you came to him telling him you wanted to leave, he refused, saying he did not want to leave since he had been looking forward to this, and he didn’t believe it was fair to Jumin. He was as gentle as ever, smiling softly and stroking your cheek, saying, “Just another hour, darling, alright? Then we can go home.”

But then your face became pale and your eyes widened, and V was suddenly frowning, and gripping your shoulders, sitting you down on the outside bench. “Darling? Are you alright?” he asks. Your entire body starts to shake, and V watches as you become more flushed and your breathing becomes heavier. V cups your cheek, and presses the back of his hand to your forehead. You are definitely in a full on panic attack at this point, and V is frantically pulling his jacket off and swinging it around your shoulders, rubbing your arms to try and keep you warm and soothe you. “It’s going to be alright, sweetheart, I’m going to get you through this, just focus on me and focus on your breathing.”

Jumin finally comes back, and when he sees what is going on he practically throws the glass of wine across the yard and rushes over to you guys, one hand on V’s shoulder, the other on your arm. “Does she need an ambulance? A doctor? Can I get her something?” he asks his friend, knowing that you are only going through a panic attack, but wanting to take proper permissions.

“Please find a doctor and get her some water. Her heart rate is getting way too high. Thank you, Jumin.” Jumin nods and rushes off to get his doctor and some water, and V goes right back to helping you. He kneels in front of you keeps his hands holding yours on your knees. “My love? Can you hear me?”

“Where am I? What’s going on? Who are you, I don’t remember what’s happening-”

“Shh, shh,” he gently shushes, stroking your cheek and pushing hair behind your ears. “It’s ok, this has happened before. You are suffering with a short memory lapse, darling. We are at a party. I am your husband, Jihyun. We are here for our friend Jumin, do you remember that?”

After thinking it over, you slowly nod, the memories coming back and you slump on the bench, your breathing slowing down too for that matter. Jumin arrives with the doctor and water, handing it to you, and since your hands still shake, V helps you to take small sips. He turns to Jumin and asks, “Is there any chance you can call a cab for us, please? I would like to take her home now.”

“Of course, I will have Driver Kim take you home. And if you don’t mind, I will stop by your residence tomorrow to check on MC and we can chat a little more.” V smiles, thanking his friend then lifting you up bridal style, cradling you against him. He carries you out to the car waiting for you both, gently fastening your seatbelt and resting your head on his shoulder. He smiles when you cuddle up to him, wrapping your arms around his torso and squeezing him in a hug. He hears you mumble something into his shirt, and he tilts your head back a bit asking you to please repeat.

“I’m sorry I ruined the party,” you say again, a single tear slipping from your eye but V is quick to wipe it away with his thumb.

“Don’t say that, my love. I’m sorry for not listening to you when you asked to leave. I should have taken better notice that you were uncomfortable. If I had, this wouldn’t have happened.”

V takes you home and makes you some dinner, since neither of you had eaten properly at the party. Afterwards, the two of you spend a peaceful night together on the couch, drinking tea and watching whatever is on the television until you both fall asleep on the couch.

☻ Saeran/Unknown ☻

A simple thing any normal couple would argue over suddenly turned into something personal, and something terrifying for Saeran who had to witness your breakdown. Thankfully, Saeran knew what to do based off of his own breakdowns, some of which caused short memory lapses too, so he knew how to aid and tend to you properly.

Even so, he found himself panicicing at your shaking and stuttering from, crying you didn’t know where you were. What made it worse for Saeran was he completely blamed himself for letting a silly thing turn into a big argument. However, what was more important to him then dwelling over his self-blame, was helping you and calming you down.

You noticed pretty soon into the relationship that Saeran had a tendency to leave his clothes around, not picking them up or carelessly tossing them somewhere without thinking. You could live with it at first, just bending down to pick them up and toss them in the laundry yourself, but then one day you slipped on a sock and hurt your back. Not seriously, but it was enough to make you upset and fed up with his tendencies.

Never did you think just a simple asking of him to try to pick up his clothes would make him so angry. His face turned red and small scowl was on his face. His brows stitched together in irritation, and he clenched his fists to his sides before snapping at you, “Don’t try to control me.”

You looked at him flabbergasted, tongue tied before saying softly, “That wasn’t what I was trying to do, baby-”

“Yeah, well it’s exactly what it sounds like you are doing. I’m tired of people trying to control what I do or don’t do. You said it yourself that I am free now, so let me be free.”

You sighed, trying to reach out to him and take his hand, but he startles you by yanking it out of your grip, turning away from you to head to the kitchen. You can feel yourself getting stressed out, and upset too for that matter at his attitude towards you. You didn’t think you were being irrational – you let the whole ‘clothes on the floor’ thing go for a long time. And you asked him nicely and respectively, so why was he acting like this? Taking a few deep breaths, you followed him into the kitchen, and watched him angrily pull out pans and start to make dinner. Even when angry, his top priority is your well being.

“Saeran, can we please talk about this?” He slams one of the pots on the counter, turning around to look at you, his eyes squinting, still cleary upset. “I’m sorry if I upset you, that wasn’t my intention. It’s just it’s becoming a safety hazard – I slipped a couple days ago on a sock. And sometimes I find clothes just in the randomness of places. Let this not turn into a big argument, but let us deal with this civilly. Why don’t we sit down and-”

“This wouldn’t have turned into an argument if you were not trying to control me,” he snaps, striding a little closer to you. “This isn’t about the damn clothes.”

“Saeran, you are making it not about the clothes. You are misunderstanding what I’m saying and taking it way out of proportion. I am not trying to control you! I just want you to learn to put your clothes away and not throw them on the floor!”

“You see!” He suddenly shouts, his voice booming and echoing throughout the house, bouncing off the walls and hitting louder against your ears. “You know who you sound like? Rita. You act as if I’m incapable or that I am helpless by trying to tell me what to do, and how to act. Did you lie to me when you said I was free? Did you? Did you lie like her?”

That seemed to be a breaking point for you. He thought you were like Rika? The Rika who hurt, brainwashed, tortured him, and he was comparing you to her. You wanted to say something, you literally had something on the tip of your tongue, but your whole body suddenly went numb. You couldn’t feel your tongue, let alone the rest of your body. Hot sweat starting pouring down from your forehead, and your face crumpled before tears pooled at the brim of your eyes then spilling down your cheeks and dripping to the floor. Your lip trembled, and you hiccuped. “MC?” Saeran asks taking a much gentler tone, carefully reaching to cup your cheek. You just hiccuped for a moment, not really comprehending he was touching you and trying to apologize, before your knees buckled and you fell to the ground, your shaking going to a whole other level.

Saeran caught you, sliding to the ground with you. To anyone, it may have looked like you were having a seizure, but Saeran could tell by your crying, and by how wide and terrified your eyes were, that this was a panic attack or breakdown. When you started crying, “W-where am I? Where am I? Who… I don’t know what’s happening,” Saeran immediately recognized this behavior as something he suffered with in early recovery. You were having a memory lapse due to your breakdown, he was certain of that. He really felt like trash at that moment, thinking back to what he said as he held onto you, realizing how irrational and cruel he sounded. More than anything, he felt like kicking himself but he knew that now was not the time to be thinking about that, and hating himself at the moment would not help the situation any more.

“MC, it’s me. Saeran, your boyfriend, see?” he said, pulling away the hair that sticked to your face, and cupping your cheeks in a way he could hold you closer to his own face so you could get a better look. “We’ve been together for a year now, remember?”

“Where am I? Where am I?” You panicked.

“We’re at home, this is our home. We are in the kitchen.” He scoops you up, rushing up the stairs with you still in his arms and into the bedroom. “This is our room,” he says, laying you gently on the bed, swinging you around so your back is against the fluffy pillows, and he can sit next to you.

He reaches across you, one hand resting gently on your arm, and pulls over a soft blanket. He takes your hands and helps you to grip the blanket. “This is your favorite blanket. It’s soft isn’t it? You like to wrap yourself up in – sometimes we cuddle in it together,” he says, taking the blanket from you to wrap it around your shoulders.

He takes a small vase from the nightstand and holds it in front of you. “This is a primrose. It’s our flower. We make sure to always have a new, fresh primrose in this vase. We bought this vase together. Can you tell me the colour of the vace?”

“Blue,” you stuttered.

“Yes, do you know why we got a blue vase? To symbolize the blue rose I used to always where, impossibility, and remember how far I’ve come. It was your idea, and I was so happy when you suggested it. It made my heart flutter!”

He started showing you random things around to room, in hopes to joggle your memory a bit. He made sure to always have a hand on you, like your arm or shoulder, and to keep in your line and vision. Slowly but surely, you began to relax, and besides a few sniffling as you clutched the blanket close to you and had a tight grip on Saeran’s hand, your breakdown concluded and your ‘memories’ were back. You panted slowly, wiping at your face since tears still fell.

You looked up at Saeran, and he gave you a gentle smile, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer to him. You sunk into him, resting your head on his chest and gripping onto his shirt. “I’m sorry, Saeran,” you say softly, a few tears dripping onto his shirt, dappening the spot above his heart. Saeran shook his head, stroking your head and tangling his fingers within your hair. He turned and gave your forehead a kiss before saying,

“Don’t apologize. This was my fault. I shouldn’t have been so irrational. I know you were not trying to control me, and you are nothing like Rika. I should have never said that. I’m so sorry. I love you, MC.” He bends down, tilting your head back a bit so he can press his lips against yours in a gentle kiss. The kiss goes on for a couple minutes, your lips moving together gracefully, softly, tenderly. “My precious flower, my angel. I love you.”

You nodded, forgiving him, and snuggling into him more, a smile on your face. “I love you too, Saeran. I love you so, so much. Nothing will ever make me stop loving you.” You were too tired to say anything else, and you quickly fell asleep laying on Saeran. When you woke up a couple hours later, Saeran ran you a bath then made you dinner, and the two of you sat on the couch, talking everything out together between kisses and snuggles. You then both watched a movie, and the whole time Saeran was very doting and affectionate you guys also took a walk on the beach at one point. It was night time, and the two of your could look up at the stars and count constellations. It felt nice and you felt much better than earlier. Between the debate with the clothes and breakdown, everything was sorted, and you were very happy about that; you were very happy that you could now sit here with Saeran, cuddled up to him, feeling peaceful and loved.

✌ Vanderwood ✌

“MC!” You jumped nearly a foot in the air, never before having heard Vanderwood shout so loud or sound so angry. You rested a hand over your beating heart, taking a few deep breaths before going towards the sound of your vexed boyfriend.

In the kitchen, he stood in front of the open dishwasher, glaring at you as his brows stitched together in irritation, a scowl, and his face red. In all honesty, you were a little afraid, and confused as to why he was so angry until he pointed at the dishwasher and all the plates that were inside. You stepped closer and saw that one had a large crack down the middle. You opened the mouth to say something but he stopped you, his voice booming as he yells, “How many damn times have I told you that you can’t put the plates this way? I have showed you numerous times how to do the fucking dishwasher, and every time you still do it fucking wrong.”

Immediately you felt the tears burning in your eyes, but you tried to remain calm and appease the situation. However, it seemed he wasn’t having any of what you had to say. Every time you tried to apologize, he would spit something back at you shouting apologies were not enough. Every time you tried to defend yourself, it just made him yell more than your excuses were pathetic. Soon enough, you were on the brink of a full panic and emotional breakdown. This day, week had already been stressful as it was with work. You knew it had been stressful for Vanderwood too because he started a new job and it was a huge adjustment for him. Due to this, you kept your strains to yourself, but now with him yelling and you getting yourself worked up, you were unable to stop yourself from breaking down in front of him.

“You are either careless or stupid, MC, what is it?” He didn’t mean to be harsh or mean, he was just angry. His face immediately softens when he sees you start to shake, and now he is panicking. Tears are running down your face in fast streams; you are in full on sobs. Your head is bowed and your body is trembling as you wrap your arms around yourself. You start muttering things incoherently, and he’s trying to figure out what you’re saying as he still stands still besides the dishwasher. When he sees you’re about to collapse, he runs over to you, not caring that he bangs his leg against the open dishwasher, and grabs you before slowly lowering you to the ground. “Hey, hey, look I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he says, trying this best to soothe and calm you.

He holds you tight against him, your face buried in his purple shirt, and while he still holds onto you, he manages to get his coat off and sling it around you. He has both arms wrapped around you, one stroking your arm and the other rubbing soothing circles on your back. He kisses the top of your head, leaving his face there as he rocks you back and forth.

You start to mumble things again, and Vanderwood gently pulls you off of him, still situated on his lap, and cups your face. “Take deep breaths, MC, take deep breaths then talk.”

You don’t really listen to him and start rambling, “I don’t know where I am, I don’t know where I am, who… who…”

“Ok, ok,” he says, more to calm himself down, but you too. He wipes at your tears and brushes the hair behind your ears. “We’re at home, MC. This is our home, that’s where you are.” He points at himself, and says, “I’m Vanderwood, your fiance. We’ve been together for a year now. Sometimes you call me Vandy, or Stark, because you know that makes me happy.”

“Vanderwood?” you ask meekly, blinking rapidly as you try to jog your memory. He smiles softly, holding your chin.

“Yes, and you’re MC. You’re the party coordinator for the RFA, a really fucked up organization that you’ve been trying to convince me to join for the last year.” You laugh and he laughs with you, wiping some slobber from your mouth. “See, you’re remembering now.” You nod your head, smiling slightly before your eyes suddenly go wide and you grip onto Vanderwoods sleeve, giving him another look of panic.

“The dishwasher-”

He quickly shushes you, placing a finger over your lip. He shakes his head and says softly, “Don’t worry about it, it’s fine. I overreacted.” He lifts you up, cradling and carrying you bridal style to the living room. He sets you down on the couch and keeps his coat wrapped around you since you don’t want to let it go. Taking a few deep breaths, making sure he is calmed down, he goes into the kitchen and quickly closes the dishwasher back up, deciding he will do it later.

He spends the rest of the day keeping a close eye on you and making sure you’re ok. He checks your blood pressure, checks your heart rate. He makes you tea then orders dinner from your favorite take out restaurant. You guys have a peaceful night, staying in each others arms, feeding each other and talking. When you fall asleep with your head in his lap, he carries you to the bedroom and carefully puts you in your pajamas, tucks you into bed, then gets in besides you, wrapping his arms around you. He kisses his forehead and whispers he loves you, and that he’ll always look out for you.

~~~

Requests are closed right now, but to find rules of requests you can check out my masterlist page!A coffee please? ;) ~ Support Me HereReblogs and comments appreciated!! ღゝ◡╹)ノ♡

#Yoosung Kim #Zen #Hyun Ryu #Jaehee Kang #Jumin Han #Seven #Luciel Choi #Saeyoung Choi #V #Jihyun Kim #Saeran Choi #Ray Choi #Vanderwood #Mary Vanderwood 3rd #Mystic Messenger #Mysme #Mystic Messenger Headcanon #Mysme Headcanon

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error-what-blog · 7 years

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Hello! I really like the way you write :) Can you do a kidnapped MC? RFA + Saeran? Like they don't see MC that day and start panicking and how they find her? Thank you very much, have a good day ❤️

Oh my god Tumblr decided to refresh and I lost all the work I did… … …

Kill me.

But hey, I love this request so I’ll do it again.

*Quick note: I restarted writing this yesterday after Tumblr deleted all my work and got through Jumin and Yoosung’s and said I’d finish it today and guess what, I’m sick with the flu. This request is cursed or something istg lolol*

Trigger Warnings: Sexual harrassment, gore, torture, abuse & suicidal thoughts. This headcanon is quite graphic, please do be aware of that before reading, as I believe that for people to actively kidnap someone, nine times out of ten it’s a personal vendetta. Not for all of course.

Also, I didn’t do Jaehee because I genuinely could not think of an instance of where it would happen, so I do apologise. I hope you’re okay with that.

Mc gets kidnapped.

♚Jumin♚

He was away on a business trip when he recieved an anonymous message with a picture attachment.

“Mister Han, it has come to my attention that you have gotten quite the hefty bonus this year. I want it. Make your way back to Korea today and contact me again. Attempt to involve any form of authorities and I’ll make sure your precious wife suffers even more than she already is.”

The image showed Mc bound to a chair, gagged and sporting two black eyes with cuts on her face.

Jumin was ringing his bodyguards immediately, firing all of them for not doing the one thing he asked them to do; protect his wife while he was away.

Once he ended the twenty second long call, he was on the phone with the trusted hacker, 707.

He explained what happened with Mc and the captor’s demands. Seven told Jumin not to worry and he would begin his work in finding Mc.

From then, Jumin began his flight home.

Mc felt hopeless. The man seeking Jumin’s bonus had not upheld his end of the bargain and had relentlessly tortured her.

He had done his very worst. He removed three of her fingernails with a pliers, broken her wrist, punched her so hard she lost a tooth and beaten her black and blue.

This was Mc’s breaking point, as much as she wanted for Jumin to come and rescue her like a knight, she just wanted all of this to be over. She wanted all of the pain and suffering to dissipate along with her.

The party co-ordinator could feel the blood ooze out of the open lacerations across her body.

This man was clearly looking for more than Jumin’s money. He wanted him to suffer and what better way to make the man suffer than to put his wife through the wrath of his pyschopathy.

Mc could hear the eerie and dark laughter the escaped the man’s mouth as she screamed for him to stop.

Almost as though God had heard her prayers, multiple cops came into the room and wasted no time in filling the man up with bullets.

This time, she wailed because she could see her beloved run towards her with a team of paramedics carrying a stretcher.

The were quick to untie her from the chair and lie her down on the stretcher and begin to stop the bleeding.

With that, Mc lost consciousness.

It was the strong smell of disinfectant that pulled Mc out of her slumber. She opened her eyes slowly, the affects of the strong painkillers she was on made her drowsy.

“Mc?”

She followed the voice and saw Jumin, and the rest of the members of the RFA, looking at her with concern sketched on their expressions.

“Guys?” Her voice sounded like she had swallowed sandpaper.

“Hey Mc, how are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been asleep for weeks but I’m still tired.”

“You’re not wrong. You were put into a medically induced coma when we arrived here to help your body better recover from your injuries. It’s been three weeks since then,” The doctor said as he walked in.

The doctor then asked everyone but Jumin to leave the room and he then told Mc of the injuries she suffered with.

“You had three broken ribs, a broken wrist, broken eye socket and a fractured skull. You had three fingernails removed, lost a tooth and suffered from multiple lacerations across your limbs and torso. You are truly lucky to be alive. The medicines I am perscribing you are mostly strong painkillers that you have to take daily and also some immune system boosters. Mr Han her bandages need to be changed every day and disinfected. We also can provide counselling to help you with any emotional turmoil you may experience following such a traumatic incident.”

“Thank you, doctor.”

Once the man left, Jumin rubbed the back of his hand againt Mc’s cheek. The three weeks while she was in the coma were hell. Although he had never been more glad to see her just awake and breathing.

✬Yoosung✬

One minute Mc was standing outside the bakery waiting for Yoosung to return with some pastries, the next she was being dragged into the alleyway with a chemical scented rag being held over her mouth and nose.

She kicked and tried her best to scream but her panicked state did her no justice.

As Mc inhaled more and more of the smell and soon enough, she felt herself fall limp in the arms of the stranger.

When Yoosung came out of the bakery, he was confused to see that Mc wasn’t there.

When he took out his phone to ring Mc, ruckus from the side street beside the bakery caught his attention.

He walked to the top of the alley and what he was met with scarred him forever.

Mc’s unconscious form was being stuffed into the boot of a random car.

“HEY!” Yoosung screamed, his feet having a mind of their own and sprinting towards the man.

Unfortunately he wasn’t quick enough and the man made his escape with Mc.

Yoosung only made it in time to get a face full of black smoke emitting from the exhaust pipe.

The blonde didn’t know what to do as he heaved for breath.

Cry.

Scream.

He decided that he could panic later, even though he was only hanging on by a thin thread.

He needed to get her back asap.

He contacted Seven right away, waiting impatiently for the redhead to pick up.

“Yo, yo, yo what’s up loverboy?~”

“Seven, Mc’s gone… I don’t k-know what to do. Please… help…” Yoosung’s voice betrayed his calm persona.

“Ho, ho, ho lovers quarell?”

“No, Seven, Someone took her… she’s gone in some car.”

There was silence on the line before the hacker ordered Yoosung to make his way to the bunker immediately.

Yoosung had never ran so fast before.

When he arrived at the bunker, Seven wasted no time in questioning Yoosung about the cirumstances, a number plate from the car and whether or not he knew if Mc had her phone on her.

“There was no number plate and I think she still has her phone.”

“Alright I’ll try tracking her location and we’ll work from there.”

“-sell for a good price. I might have a go of her before the auction because damn, look at that body.”

The part of the sentence Mc managed to catch caused her eyes to shoot open and see a single man talking on the phone.

She began to kick and and attempted to scream through the rag tied around her mouth.

“Oi! You might as well stop struggling now, if you don’t I’ll have to make you and that will knock a few coins off your price for damaged goods. And believe me, you don’t wa-”

The man was suddenly cut short, as a loud bang resounded throughout the warehouse. His eyes were wide an unblinking as he looked towards his chest. There was blood pooling out across the fabric of his white shirt.

Without notice, the man collapsed onto Mc.

Mc began to scream through her gag once again, her tears blurred her vision as she hook violently, the weight of the corpse on her body adding to her breakdown.

About three seconds later, the body was lifted off of her and she was being held up by the shoulders.

Not knowing who it was, Mc only squealed louder an bawled harder.

“MC! MC! It’s me! It’s me, please stop!”

Mc’s screams were muted when she realised it was Yoosung in front of her.

Yoosung untied the rag from around her mouth and held her close as she began to sob and shake.

“Is she okay?!” Seven asked, running over to his best friend.

“She’s o-okay, Seven, she’s f-fine,” He said and began to cry as he has never felt so happy just to hold Mc.

“C’mon, we need to leave.”

Yoosung stood himself and Mc up and kept his arms around her shoulders as she walked.

♡Zen♡

Zen had become incredibly popular since he began dating Mc.

He was a highly sought after actor and every work he performed in, he sold out the theatre and brought huge success to himself.

Like now, he was just about to start yet another sold out show.

He felt himself explode with love and pride as he saw his beautiful Mc sitting in her reserved front seat, smiling at him lovingly as the curtain opened.

Soon enough, the show drew to a close and people began to trickle out of the theatre, excluding Mc who stayed in her seat and the fans who purchased VIP tickets in order to meet Zen afterwards.

Mc felt very uncomfortable, she had to admit, there was a particular fan waiting for Zen who had been shooting her death glares since the show ended. Mc obviously pinned it as jealoudy of her relationship with Zen.

But Mc couldn’t shake the feeling of unsafety she felt.

Mc jumped out of her skin when a quick, “Hey, babe,” was whispered in her ear.

“Oh my god, Zen!” She laughed and stood up. She was quick to place her hands on his cheeks and connect their lips in a loving kiss. When they parted, both with dorky smiles on their faces, Mc complimented Hyun on his performance.

“You did amazing Zen, I think this might be my favourite show yet!”

“Babe, you say that every time,” Hyun said as he hugged his girlfriend once again.

Once they pulled away, Mc and Zen made their way over to the line fans waiting to get a picture with their beloved actor and have a small chat.

The first few fans came and went, some asking Mc to get in pictures and they expressed their want for Zen and Mc to get married.

Just after another fan who requested Mc being apart of the discussion and picture, the fan who had been giving Mc weird vibes had stepped up.

The girl gave Zen a dazzling smile and hugged him tight, expressing how meeting the silver haired actor was a dream come true.

When they were posing for the picture, she turned to Mc and said “Uhm, honey, could you get out of the picture please? You’re ruining it.”

Mc had experienced fans like this before, who were rude to her but never with the level of hostility this one was presenting.

Zen was taken aback by the bluntness of his fan. “Hey, there’s no need to be rude to Mc.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Zenny. I just get upset easily when special moments are at risk of being ruined.”

Zen and Mc left it at that for the moment, just assuming it was one of those arrogant and jealous fans.

After awhile, Mc needed a break and some fresh air.

She stepped out of the cast exit and breathed a sigh.

That fan really was rude earlier.

“You ignorant bitch!” Mc’s eyes shot open and saw the fan from earlier standing in front of her, the girl’s hair messed up as tears fell down her face.

“Because of you, Zen thinks I’m awful. Just because I didn’t want my picture ruined by someone as awful looking as you! You ruined my chances!”

Just as Mc went to reply, the girl pulled out a gun and pointed it towards Mc. “Just get towards the car and I won’t kill you.”

Mc had her hands up as she made her way towards the parked car, tears streaming down her face.

“Mc?!” Zen’s voice shouted as she sat in the car.

“Zen! Don’t go near her or I’ll shoot!”

Zen did as he was told, staying where he was. He watched the girl sit in the car and then trained his eyes to the number plate. He repeated it to himself over and over again.

As soon as the car was away, Zen pulled out his phone and typed down the number plate and was quick to dial the emergency services.

When they told him they were on their way and had sent a car to follow Mc’s captor’s car, Hyun hung up and sat down on the path.

He buried his hands in his face and began to cry. He just wanted to protect her and he couldn’t even do that.

“I think it’s time I make Zen truly see how awful looking you are!” The fan wasted no time in parking her car in a random alley and climbing to the back seat.

She pulled a pocketknife from her back pocket and began to slash Mc’s face.

They were all relatively shallow cuts and that didn’t seem to please the girl, despite Mc’s cries and shrieks for her to stop.

She stopped only for a moment an then dug the tip of the blade into Mc’s cheek and dragged it up right underneath her eye.

Just as the steady flow of blood began to trickle down her face, there was a bright light and banging against the door of the car.

“Get out of the car now!” A guard shoutes, pointing a gun through the open and at the girl.

In shock, the girl hopped out of the car and had her arms up.

Mc was too scared to move, her hand trying to stop the bleeding in her face.

The co-ordinator barely registered the door next to her being opened until she heard the voice of Zen.

“Jagiya? Come out of the car, okay? We’ll get you fixed up alright?”

When she got out of the car, she threw herself into Zen’s arms as she bawled her eyes out, so glad that it was over.

Zen brought Mc to the ground and held her as the paramedics came over and began to clear the cuts on her face. “Miss, we are going to need to take you to the hospital to get stitches on that gash on your cheek.”

After Mc was brought to the hospital, there was a flurry of paparazzi outside the hospital and Zen was advised to get rid of them.

“Yes, it is true. Mc got attacked by a fan last night following the show. She is completely alright aside from a few cuts and a gash. But I will say this now, being rude to Mc, hurts me too, and I am beyond hurt that this happened to her. I am taking some time off to help Mc work through this and to make sure she feels safe in a relationship with me.”

☀Saeyoung☀

Oh god, he thought the agency was finally done with him and had given up on finding him.

He thought wrong.

Mc was now in the clutches of the agency and he was being held in captivity watching a live-streamed video of his wife being tortured.

They were pushing her head into water jut until she began to stop moving and then pulled her out again.

“See this, 707? This is your punishment for going against us. Now watch as we slowly kill her.”

They were relentless and put Mc through pain that not even Saeyoung himself has experienced.

Her screams plagued his mind as the people stuck a hot fire pocker into her side.

He couldn’t believe he let this happen.

He finally had the life he wanted;

Reunited with Saeran, with a wife and hopes to start a family.

But he just had to be careless.

Seven was pulled from his thoughts when the door opened and Saeran was running to him.

“I need to do this quick or they’ll catch me, but just go along with this okay?”

Seven nodded and followed Saeran’s lead.

He was brought to the room where Mc was.

Her cries softened a tad when her husband was brought into the room.

“Agent 707, for your betrayal against this agency we need to punish you. However, you’re a one of a kind hacker and we can’t afford to lose such talent, so as a sanction we will kill your wife and hope you don’t disobey again.”

Saeyoung watched as Saeran moved towards Mc and pointed a gun towards her head.

“P-Please don’t! Please! Don’t hurt her! No!” He screamed and struggled, going along with the performance.

Just as he pulled the safety lock off, Saeran pointed the gun towards the men in the room and shot them all with precison.

After that, everything was a blur. The three needed to get out of the building quick and get far away.

Since then it had been three days and they were camping out in a motel. They had bought supplies and tended to Mc’s wounds and from there, worked towards getting her back to health and getting them all to safety.

✟Saeran✟

It had been tough for Saeran, getting through the aftermath of Mint Eye that is.

He suffered with crippling anxiety and debilitating depression following the events.

But he had Mc and she was the sole person he had to thank for getting through it.

But lately she had been distant. Sad almost.

She was always on her phone, looking like she wanted to forget the world and dissipate.

Saeran became fed up with it and approached her about it.

“Mc what’s going on? I thought we could talk to each other.”

“It’s nothing Saeran, I promise.”

From there it escalated into an argument and boiled down to Saeran screaming something along the lines of, “Get out, go! You’re not doing any good by being her!”

It was only to hurt her as much as he felt hurt.

But she still left, only bringing her phone and purse.

After that he tracked her through street cams and her location by her phone.

He had never been so grateful for his skills until he saw Mc being approached by a man in a hood and then dragged away.

“Mc~ My love. We are reunited!”

Mc was shook to the core by the voice in her ear.

“Why are you doing this to me?! We dated in school when we were only young! Just stop!” She shouted, her shaky voice contradicting her confidence.

A slap to the side of her face silenced her and the feeling of the man’s tongue sliding against the reddened skin of her cheek caused a shiver to quake her body.

“I don’t want to hurt you, my love, but I can’t have you stepping out of line.”

“I’m not your girlfriend! That ended over ten years ago, you psycho!”

“Mc’s you’re in denial, we’re in love, you’re my universe! You’re my every-”

“HEY!”

All Mc saw was a fist connecting with her ex’s cheek, knocking him down.

Then she realised that it was Saeran landing merciless punches on her ex, and although she wished for him to stop, she couldn’t move from her binds.

All she could do was cry and beg for Saeran to stop.

Saeran began to stop once he fully registered Mc’s cries of fear and anguish.

He stepped off the man and went to Mc with bloodied fists and untied her.

As soon as she was free, she pounced onto Saeran and cried into his neck as she let out the fear she had been feeling through the weeks of harrassment her ex put her through.

“It’s okay, Mc, it’s over. From here on out you need to tell me everything, alright? Please don’t keep stuff like ths from me.”

Oh god, I spent my whole day doing this lol. I hope you enjoyed and I’m sorry it took so long and if parts are sloppy. This flu has my mind a bit muddles.

Unedited.

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