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roosterforme · 8 days ago

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Aim for the Sky Part 37 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley delivers some news that has him smiling. While you're exhausted from your pregnancy hormones, you can't seem to get enough of your husband. And he can't get enough of Rose's first Halloween.

Warnings: Angst, adult language, body image, DILF Roo, pregnancy, smut, lactation kink

Length: 3300 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

Bradley didn't want to admit why he couldn't stop smiling on his way to work early the next day. Part of the reason was you, of course. And Rose. And the upcoming Nugget. But a major reason for the grin on his face was the fact that Indigo was about to be grounded for the foreseeable future.

Unsure whether or not he should be the one to inform her about it, Bradley had texted Maverick while you were curled up in bed with him last night. But Mav was detained longer than expected in Lemoore, so it was up to Bradley. And he kind of couldn't wait to break the news to Indigo. When he told you that, you gave him one hell of a blowjob and then fell asleep with your cheek on his shoulder.

For some reason, Indigo's aircraft was about to undergo an inspection along with a communications update. Bradley knew inspections were time consuming. He'd been put through one back in Virginia with the Atlantic Fleet. They weren't for the weak of heart, because all your peers took to the air every day while you waited. And waited. And fucking waited until it felt like your spirit would break. There was nothing quite like missing out on the thrill of flying while everyone else got to do it.

This was why Bradley had to wipe the grin from his face as he strolled down the hallway toward his office. Indigo would not only be grounded, she wouldn't even be allowed to attend any lectures as part of the process. He wouldn't have to constantly see her while the harassment report was being handled. Bradley knew you were responsible for this, at least in part, and he couldn't stop kissing you for it.

"God, I love my wife," he murmured, adjusting the wedding photo on his desk and sitting down to print his lecture notes. Once he had everything in order, he clipped his pages together, grabbed a cup of coffee, and went to his classroom.

As he waited outside the door, Bradley got the chance to greet every officer arriving for class. While he gave Spice a bit of a wide berth, the others were always courteous and respectful on the ground and in the air. The last few aviators trickled into the room, and now Bradley had to watch Indigo strut down the hallway, her black hair pulled into a tight bun, blue eyes flashing. She never took her eyes off him, and she didn't stop until she was just a little too close for comfort.

"Sir," she greeted with a smug smile. He wanted to roll his eyes, but he needed to remain professional. Hadn't he made it clear she wasn't going to get anywhere with him? He was still fighting a grin of his own, ready to deliver the news that would ruin her day, but she licked her lips and laughed. "How's your perfect wife doing? Think she'd believe you over me?"

The urge to smile vanished. Bradley's heart beat an angry rhythm as something precariously close to rage filled his veins. Indigo was threatening him and you, because she had no idea you'd been tucked behind his office door the other day. There was no reason to take the bait. He wanted to blow up again, but he tamped it down.

When she turned on her heel to enter the classroom, Bradley shook his head. "Not today, Lieutenant Jeffries. You and your aircraft have officially been grounded."

The look on her face was reward enough, but listening to her sputtering was also fun for him. "What? What are you talking about? This is ridiculous." She pointed angrily at him, eyes narrowed. "You can't do this. Why do you think you can just do this to me?"

"You'll address me as Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw," he snapped, trying not to smile. "And instead of pointing at me, perhaps next time you'll remember to salute instead." She stood completely still before him, all traces of her anger gone.

"I want to know why."

Bradley backed into the classroom, his hand on the doorknob as he shrugged at her. "You'd have to ask someone a lot smarter than me that question." The door slammed in her face, and Bradley turned to the remaining officers with a bright smile. "Good morning, aviators. Let's get started."

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

You were exhausted, and your jaw was kind of sore from last night's vigorous blowjob as you walked into your lab after dropping Rose off at daycare. "Ow," you whispered, rubbing your chin as you took a seat. Any minute now, Bradley would be breaking the wonderful news to Indigo that she was currently obsolete. You giggled. You ruined her day, and you got to suck Bradley off. It was a win/win.

"You know better than to grin like that," Cat said, walking past you to her workspace. "Not when I'm the one pulling all the weight around here."

You wanted to insist that you were pulling plenty of weight as the baby thumped on your bladder, but you decided against it. "Should I start addressing you as Queen Cat?"

She laughed and turned on her computer. "Lieutenant Commander will suffice. Now let me get everything in order to start my investigation of aircraft number 156682 200. I can't wait to interview the pilot."

"Oh," you gasped. "You're interviewing her today?"

"I'm starting everything today. Including the actual Super Hornet code update. When we get some results, we can analyze the data together."

"Yeah," you replied, still caught up on Cat meeting up with Indigo at some point today. "I hope she doesn't give you a hard time. I still feel guilty, like this is going to eat up all your time. I don't mind carrying more weight in the lab. You know that, right? Like I can take some of your work-"

"First of all," Cat said, cutting you off, "she will not give me a hard time. I'll do everything by the book, but I can guarantee she'll hate me more than I hate her. And that's saying something. I can't wait to see this little piece of shit who thinks she's entitled to your husband."

"But-"

"And second, I'll let you know if I need help staying afloat, but for now, just concentrate on your forty hours while the baby grows."

"I still feel bad!" you finally said.

Cat didn't answer you for a while as she typed away and printed what she needed. You thought the conversation was over until she stood and started for the door. "You could always name the baby Catherine," she said with a wink before disappearing into the hallway.

You tried to focus on your computer screen, but you were a bit shaken by the sudden realization that unlike last time with Rose, you and Bradley hadn't discussed baby names. There were several you were fond of, and you opened a new document to type them out. All of them sounded good with Bradshaw, and you sighed.

"Maybe he should just pick again."

You read through the list, ranking them in your approximate preferred order before adding more. You'd messed around with it so much, you were shocked when you realized it was lunchtime. "Let's go see Daddy," you told your belly.

You were ravenous, but if you gained another pound, you'd be in the maternity tent for sure. But it was unavoidable. Especially with how good the burrito bowls smelled. You were just reaching for a tray in the cafeteria when a moan escaped your lips the same time Bradley wrapped his arm around you.

"Oh, I know that sound," he whispered. "Here? Right now?" You turned to look at his excited smirk. "I mean, I guess we could go up to your office as long as we make it quick."

"Bradley," you laughed. "I was moaning for the burrito bowls."

Now he looked less thrilled. "Oh. Well, they do smell good."

Your stomach was growling uncontrollably now as you handed him a tray. "You know I'd usually pick a quickie," you whispered, gathering your lunch, "but the baby really, really wants this."

"Feed the Nugget," he replied, sticking close by your side as you looked for a table. "I just don't want to run into Indigo," he muttered, head on a swivel. "She is pissed at me, and I'm sick of looking at her."

When you sat down, you asked, "So you broke the news of the grounding?" You felt giddy inside knowing she was having a bad day after she'd given you so many.

"Yeah," Bradley grunted, taking a huge bite of his lunch. "She didn't take it well."

You clapped your hands quietly. "I doubt she's even going to have time to eat lunch. Cat's interviewing her and beginning her aircraft inspection."

"So you're giving me details now?"

You froze as you coated your food with hot sauce. "The less you know the better."

He shook his head and inhaled more food. "I'm just looking forward to taking Rosie trick-or-treating tomorrow. Should I stop and get candy on my way home?"

"Tomorrow's Halloween!" you gasped. "I completely lost track of time. Usually I plan a party and have everyone over!"

Bradley waved you off. "I just want it to be us this time. Rose's costume should arrive today or tomorrow morning. We can show her off to the neighbors and walk down to your parents' new house."

You squealed softly. In a few short weeks, your mom and dad would be moving from Maryland into the cutest coastal cottage in your neighborhood. "Okay, you're right. That sounds perfect. Stop for candy on the way home. And don't open it! You always get into it early and eat half."

Bradley stacked your empty tray with his. "So... about that quickie. I've got like thirty-five minutes until I need to be in the classroom..." His pupils were wide, and his leg was restless under the table. Knowing he wanted you made everything easier.

"I have a meeting with Bickel," you whispered, wrapping your legs around his. "Let's wait until tonight when it doesn't have to be quick."

"Jesus," he grunted, gaze sinking to your chest, knowing you'd make it worth the wait. "Yeah, okay. A little milk to go with the Halloween candy sounds good."

"I told you not to open it early!"

He scoffed as he stood. "I'm never not going to open the Halloween candy early. That's just a fact, Baby Girl."

After he walked you to the elevators, he kissed you and then knelt to kiss your belly before disappearing into the sunlight. Even after your meeting and emptying out your email inbox, Cat still wasn't back. You didn't see her again until nearly the end of the day when she strolled back into the lab.

"What's up?" you asked, endlessly curious about what was going on with Indigo. Cat was giving you a look that left you feeling unsettled. "What? Tell me."

She sighed and sank into her seat. "First of all, Jeffries is a piece of work. She thinks she's hot shit, and I don't understand how you haven't run her over with Bradley's fancy Bronco by now. But..."

"What?!"

"Well, as I finished up my preliminary checks, she looked me right in the eye and asked if I work with you."

Your stomach lurched. "She did?"

Cat nodded. "Yes. She asked me if I work with Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw's wife."

You felt uneasy. "What did you say?"

"I ignored her. But I'd already been ignoring plenty of her mouthing off, so whatever. It doesn't matter."

But it did matter to you. In all of your scheming, you'd almost forgotten that Indigo was still going to be lurking around North Island, ready to try to make your life harder. Ready to corner Bradley again. The fucking Navy needed to sort out his complaints against her faster. But at least you were under Indigo's skin. The thought almost felt good.

When you got home with Rose, you saw a text from Bradley.

Bradley Rooster Bradshaw <3<3<3: don't make dinner, i'll bring food home

"Daddy's giving us more time to play," you whispered to your daughter who clearly wanted to be fed by the way she was clinging to you. "Let's go sit on the swing."

You nursed her on the enormous playset in your yard that Bradley just had to have, then you swung with her. When you started to burp her, your husband showed up, still in his uniform, looking hot as hell with his hands full of bags of candy.

His aviators were low on his nose, and he peered over them when he said, "I bought more than enough, Sweetheart. Now you can't complain when I start eating it after dinner." He dropped the candy on the patio table and made a beeline for you. "Let me burp the Nugget."

He alternated between kissing your forehead and Rose's as you slowly swung back and forth while he burped her. Somehow he just kept looking sexier as he bounced her in his arms, making her giggle.

"Keep your uniform on," you told him, letting your eyes slip to his bicep where his tattoos peeked out. "I want you in your uniform later."

"Yes, ma'am," he grunted, kissing your lips, making you gasp.

"You taste like chocolate! You already got into the candy!"

He winced, nudging his sunglasses all the way up his nose. "In my defense, there were Reese's Cups!" When he changed the subject, you didn't stop him. "Come inside and look at the Halloween costumes before we eat dinner."

Bradley outdid himself in every way. There were costumes for all three of you, and yours was stretchy enough to fit over your belly. The dinner he picked up was delicious, and after he read the book about the Silly Goose, he got Rose ready for bed.

But just the sound of his voice was turning you on. And you weren't even mad that he kept eating the candy. Your brain and your body felt fuzzy as you realized your hormones were completely out of control. When he walked into the bedroom, still in his khaki uniform, you squeezed your thighs together and whimpered.

"Am I allowed to get excited now, or are you still vibing with the burrito bowl?" he rasped with a smile.

"I am horny as hell," you whispered, quickly undressing as his eyes went wide. Maybe a quickie at lunchtime would have taken the edge off, because this was wild. You swore you could smell your husband from across the room, and when his big hand rested on his thick cock through his pants, you ran to him.

You were completely naked while he was fully dressed, and he cupped your breasts in his hands with an appreciative sound. "You were so right about the quickie. Now I can take my time." One hand ended up on your butt, guiding you to face the wall where you braced your hands. Bradley nudged your legs apart, his uniform scratching along your skin deliciously.

"Keep talking," you begged as the sound of him unzipping his pants met your ears. "Keep talking to me, Roo."

His insignia pins rubbed the back of your shoulder and his mustache found your ear. "Oh, you really need this, huh?"

You jerked your head in a nod as his cock throbbed against your lower back. "I really do. Keep talking."

He guided himself to your entrance, pushing just the tip where you wanted him most before his hands slid around to your belly. "You want me to keep talking?" he murmured, going deeper and deeper, lips teasing your ear. "I could talk about how much I love you all night."

"Bradley," you whined, arching your back as he bottomed out.

"I love the way you say my name. And I love the way you can't get enough of my cock."

It was like listening to sweet and depraved poetry as his thighs slapped against yours. He kept going with his thrusts and his words, stroking your breasts which began to leak milk. But then he crooned about how much he loved that, too. Nothing was off limits as your head tipped back against his shoulder, kissing his tattoos.

His gruff breaths and shortening strokes let you know he was close, and when his fingers, wet with your milk, met your clit, you closed your eyes and focused on the pleasure as he said, "I love you, Sweetheart. I love you so fucking much."

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

Bradley cradled Rose in his arms, making a fuss over her. "My little Nugget," he chuckled, kissing her face around her fuzzy costume. Everything was set. What was left of the candy he hadn't eaten was in a bowl on the porch, and he had squeezed into his own costume.

"What about Tramp?" you called from the bedroom. "Should we leave him here so he thinks he's guarding the house from the trick-or-treaters?"

"Yeah," laughed Bradley. "Let him howl all night. He'll sleep all day tomorrow." You appeared in your costume which made Bradley smile. "You look cute as a pregnant bottle of hot sauce."

When you rubbed your belly, he wished he could feel the baby himself. After hours cradling you against him in bed last night, trying every position, he still couldn't feel her.

"I feel cute," you replied, doing a little wiggle dance around the kitchen, tossing a treat to Tramp. "And together we make the perfect meal."

"A meal you can't have right now," Bradley interjected, adjusting his beer bottle costume while the dinosaur chicken nugget squirmed against him.

"I can have dinosaur chicken nuggets and hot sauce, just not the beer," you replied, kissing Rose. "She looks so cute in this thing. I still can't believe you found it online."

"My little Dino Nugget," Bradley whispered. "Can you help me put the carrier on so we can go?"

"The carrier?" you repeated, brow creased. "Why don't we just take the stroller?"

Bradley rolled his eyes dramatically. "For the hundredth time, I don't like the stroller when I can just carry her instead. The stroller is bulky, and I don't even get to play with her when I'm pushing it. I don't know why they exist."

You bit your lip. "You're adorable, Roo."

When you turned to get the carrier, the image of Indigo randomly flashed through his mind. Things had been so nice the past few days, it was like he'd forgotten about the terrible weeks before this. Which he couldn't do. He knew he had to remember how much you were hurting so he didn't fuck up again. But right now, he wanted to enjoy Rose's first Halloween to its fullest.

"Can you still tell what her costume is?" Bradley asked as he fastened his daughter in place against his chest. "Shit. If we have to use the stroller, I'll be so pissed."

"Stop swearing in front of the baby," you scolded, feeding Tramp another treat. "I can very clearly tell she's a dinosaur chicken nugget. And a cute one at that."

"Excellent." Bradley fluffed up her costume and turned to the door. "Don't knock over the candy bowl."

You and he both stepped over it. "I'm shocked there was any candy left to put in the bowl," you told him with a playful glare.

"Listen, Baby Girl," he said, reaching for your hand. "You play your cards right, and you'll be my sweet treat later."

"It's annoying to me that I like the way that sounds."

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We've got plenty more of Indigo coming in the next chapter. Want to know the names BG saved for the baby? Should I just go ahead and put up a baby names poll? Thanks for reading.

PART 38

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on-my-vigilante-sht · 2 months ago

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Forgiveness

Cregan Stark x Reader

Summary: Cregan begs for his wife’s forgiveness when he accidentally injures her.

Warning: no use of y/n, dirty talk/mentions of smut, injuries, i'm pretty sure that's it

Word Count: 2.3k

Masterlist

Cregan sat in his study, buried in letters and decrees that claimed they required the utmost attention. They all said that even if they truly did not require that level of priority. However, everyone wanted their Lord’s approval and signature, leaving him to sort through what was a priority and what could wait. In some ways he missed the war, at least he was fighting and protecting his realm then. He felt like a true lord then. Now, he may as well be a bureaucrat locked in some tower of the Red Keep, imprisoned by his own position.

As he moved on to some sort of land dispute, there was a harsh knock on his door. “Enter,” he called, not even looking up.

The large, heavy door swung open, revealing a guard. “Lady Stark, my lord,” he announced.

Interest piqued, Cregan looked up just in time to see the guard step aside, revealing his lady wife. Without having to be dismissed, the man exited, shutting the door behind him to leave the couple alone.

“I haven’t seen you all day,” his wife explained her presence, approaching his desk.

For the first time that day, the Warden of the North took a break from his work, setting his quill down and leaning back in his seat. Sparing a glance out the window, he realized that it was dark. It had only been mid-afternoon when he sat down to begin his bureaucratic duties. “I suppose you’re right,” he confirmed, recalling that he had gently pressed a kiss against his sleeping wife’s head when he woke before disappearing for the day.

Opening his arms, he invited her to approach. Taking his cue, the lady of the north took a seat on his lap, easily slotting into his body. It was a well known fact that the Lord and Lady of Winterfell were unusually affectionate for a pairing of such high status. Typically, love was reserved for those who did not marry for status, or for extramarital affairs. But it seemed the Stark couple had been quite lucky in their match.

“The day has ended, we should go to bed,” Cregan’s wife asked in a soft voice, her fingers trailing through the hair she swept away from his face.

He smiled, finding his tension soothed by her mere presence. “Aye, I wish that I could but this has to be done,” he sighed, gesturing to his desk still covered in documents.

Observing all the work, the lady sighed, leaning her head against her husband’s for a moment. “But you, my lord, are the Warden of the North. Who is to tell you when things must be done?” she asked suggestively, knowing what calling him ‘my lord,’ did to her husband.

Cregan let out the faintest growl, wanting to dive into his wife right there but he restrained himself. “Why I thought that was your job,” he teased.

Fortunately, she laughed, throwing her head back in a way that made Cregan want to mark her neck in the way he so loved. “Please,” she dismissed, “I can hardly get my own husband into bed. How can I tell you what to do?”

He chuckled. “Fortunately for no one, my discipline is strong enough to withstand your temptations. Although, I admit they are barely capable. I swear to you,” he began, gently lifting his wife from his lap, “that I will be in our chambers within the next hour,” he said, eyes flickering to the candle on his desk that was nearly at its end. “I expect you to be ready for me,” he uttered darkly.

His wife blushed like it was their wedding night again, despite hearing far more vulgar things from her husband. “And how shall you expect me?” she asked teasingly.

Cregan bit his lip. As adorable as he found his wife when she was shy and coy at the mere inclination of sex, he loved when she was daring and teasing. He thought for a moment, staying silent for longer than necessary only to create an illusion for his wife. “Naked. On our bed. With your fingers between your legs.”

Once again Cregan found himself locked away in his office, buried in endless paperwork. He was deeply entrenched in some matter of land disputes when the door suddenly burst open. Cregan looked up in astonishment, his mouth open to reprimand them for their dismissal of protocol.

“My apologies, my lord,” the out of breath guard interrupted. “But a wildling has attempted to enter Winterfell. Says he wants to be a southerner, like us.”

Cregan quirked a brow, utterly confused as to why this required so much urgency and why someone had dared call him a southerner. “And why does this require so much urgency that you have broken protocol?”

“The gatesmaster believes this may be some sort of ruse to breach the walls of Winterfell.”

Cregan nodded, standing up. As he exited his office, he found a group of guards standing outside, seemingly waiting to follow them outside. He did not say anything about the waste of manpower at his door but headed outside. “Which gate was it?” he asked.

“The north gate,” his guard answered.

Nodding, the Warden of the North headed out to the northern courtyard. As he exited the walls of the keep, he intended to greet the gatesmaster who stood talking to another sentry. But catching sight of the supposed wildling made him freeze. Standing there by the gate was a disheveled man, looking as if he had spent his entire life in the woods. And talking to him, unguarded, was the Lady of Winterfell.

Cregan abandoned his path towards his gatemaster to get his wife away from the wildling. Who would have possibly thought it would be wise to leave both the wildling and his wife unguarded, even more so to let them meet? He was not thinking clearly as he reached the pair, grabbing his wife’s arm to wrench her away from the vile man before her. He must have pulled harder than intended because she let out a yelp as he did so. Still, he did not comprehend it as he whirled around to face his men, still clutching her arm.

“Who left them unguarded?” he demanded, his voice booming so loud it silenced the entire courtyard. He watched in rage as the crowd of men all sent glances to one another.

The spell was only broken by his wife’s cry. “Cregan, you’re hurting me,” he heard his wife whimper. Finally looking at her, he realized just how tightly he was gripping her arm. He relaxed his grip a bit, but still held on tight enough to push her so she stood in front of him, making himself a barrier between her and the wildling. She let out another cry as he jerked her, her free hand reaching for the hand clutched around her arm. She grabbed his wrist in a futile attempt to get him to let go. “Cregan, let go,” she cried again.

Seeing his wife’s face twisted in pain, the Lord of Winterfell realized what he had done. Quickly, he released his grasp, her arm falling into her own grasp. The cold air that whipped through Winterfell became biting as Cregan watched his wife cradle her arm against her chest, backing away from him as if he were the threat. As she backed up toward a guard, gesturing for him to escort her away, Cregan’s heart broke as he realized that in that moment, she felt safer with a guard than with him.

His jaw clenched as he leveled a glare to the men that had followed him, realizing that they had all run to tell him what was happening rather than do their actual jobs. He turned to his gatesmaster who had approached them by now, the few guards who had remained now taking hold of the wildling. “Take him to the dungeons I will deal with him later,” he gestured to the potential threat. “As to this lot, see to it they have nights watch for the next week.” He leveled one last glare at the group of men before heading back inside, intent on finding his wife.

Cregan was already planning his apology to his wife as he reached the hall that housed their chambers. As he walked down the hall, the guard that had escorted her earlier exited his chambers before taking his post just outside the door, sparking some level of unfounded jealousy.

As Cregan walked up to the door, the guard gave him a slight bow. “My lord,” he greeted. He did not reply, simply continuing toward the door, waiting for the guard to open it. But rather, he just spoke again, “The lady has asked me to inform you that she wishes to be left alone.”

Cregan stopped, looking incredulously at the guard. His words stung to hear. He had sworn an oath to protect his wife and had promised her parents that he would be a good husband and never hurt her. Yet here he stood, being barred from his wife by her own wish, with a man of his employ guarding her against him. The sentry looked deeply uncomfortable under his lord’s glare. He truly wanted to honor the wishes of his liege lady but her husband’s orders came first. Reluctantly he reached over, opening the door for the Lord of Winterfell.

Satisfied with his influence, Cregan strolled into his chambers, intending to begin the apology when he stopped short upon seeing the room empty. He turned to look at the guard as if to ask where his wife was. “Some maids escorted her to the maesters,” he informed nervously.

Cregan leveled yet another glare at the man before clenching his jaw and exiting the room, storming towards the maester. As the lord of Winterfell left, his guard briefly considered alternative employment.

Although Cregan had stormed towards the maester’s turret throughout Winterfell, he slowed as he approached the structure. Despite the guards posted outside holding the door open for him, he paused before the building, taking a breath. His wife’s scared expression flashed through his mind and that was a sight he never wanted to see again, yet he knew he would never forget it. The image made all the rage evaporate from him as he slowly entered the turret.

Ascending the stairs, he reached the healing room that he had often visited as a boy. Always having his training injuries and general wounds of boyhood treated here. Sat on the bench in only her shift and skirts was Cregan’s wife, having her arm bandaged in a way that held it to her chest, just as she had chosen to hold it.

Maester Kennet noticed the lord first, slowly halting his movements to look at the man. His wife turned to see the reason for the maester’s pause. She turned, finding her husband standing at the top of the stairs looking like a hollow version of himself. His face looked crestfallen as if he were informing them of a death.

Before she could snub him with a turned gaze, Cregan fell to a knee, his head bowed. “My lady, I truly do wish to apologize to you. I truly never meant to harm you,” he began, his voice dripping with a desire to be believed. “I swore an oath to protect you, as that was all I was trying to do. But instead, I hurt you, and that is a failure I will carry with me until my grave. I understand if you are unable to forgive me, I was being brash and absentminded. But all I ask is that I may be near you.” He looked up slowly, meeting his wife’s gaze. He could not read anything from it aside from pain.

Cregan had felt the pain of wounds of war before, but nothing hurt more than when his wife turned to look at Maester Kennet. But she only whispered a dismissal before looking back to her husband again. Cregan stood eagerly as the man’s hands gently left his wife’s shoulder before he approached his lord. The aging man paused beside Cregan, patting his shoulder momentarily before continuing down the stairs, leaving the couple in privacy.

Cautiously, Cregan approached his lady, once again crouching before her. “I truly am sorry,” he repeated. His wife said nothing as her gaze fell to her lap. But she turned her non-bound hand over in her lap, inviting his hand in hers. Cregan took it eagerly, his other hand going to her face to brush her hair aside as he gently grasped it. “I love you,” he breathed.

“I love you too,” she cried, falling into him. Cregan caught her, careful of her shoulder as he held her close, even pressing a kiss to the injured area as if promising to care for her.

He continued to hold her and continued to apologize. “I truly did not intend to harm you. I just saw you standing with that wildling, unguarded and all I knew was that I had to get you away from him.”

A comforting hand in his hair soothed him, halting his words. “I know,” she assured. “Maester Kennet explained why you were so upset. I apologize for not being more cautious. I just felt he was being treated unjustly.”

Cregan pulled away only enough to look at his wife, nodding in understanding. “You have a large heart,” he commended. “And it is my job to protect it. Sometimes I get carried away with it.”

The lady smiled, “Well I don’t suppose I can fault you for that.”

Cregan smiled at her forgiveness, once again holding her close. With all forgiven, he gained a teasing lilt to his voice. “Did you send that guard to our chambers to intentionally mislead me?”

“Perhaps,” she agreed, the teasing lilt finding her voice as well. But she attempted to distract from it with a stroke against his back. “I was quite irritated with you.” Cregan just chucked, the rumble of his laugh soothing his wife as they fell back into normalcy.

Masterlist

#x reader #game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #got #got x reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragons x reader #hotd #hotd x reader #cregan #cregan stark #cregan x reader #cregan stark x reader

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lovelyhan · 1 year ago

Text

— melting point ⟢

rumor has it that icy department head of pledis insurance has something going on with her loyal secretary, wonwoo. well, she does—it's just not the kind of behind-closed-doors business one would expect for them to partake in.

★ FEATURING; secretary!wonwoo x afab!oc

★ WORD COUNT; 12.3k words

★ TAGS; coworkers to lovers, revenge fic, angst, smut

★ WARNINGS; blackmailing, manipulation, mentions of past bullying, graphic sexual content (MINORS DNI)

★ NOTES; hi... it's been forever, hasn't it? i missed tumblr a lot, and have decided to grace the tags with this fic after months of radio silence heheh ! this was a commissioned piece on twt which i tweaked to fit my tumblr audience better! cheers to 5k followers even in my absence t__t you guys are the best!

★ PS; i'm sorry i can't be bothered to dig up my taglist and tag those who filled it up T T

There’s a saying in PLEDIS Insurance that goes: enjoy your coffee early because once the Ice Queen is in, it’ll turn just as cold as she is.

Of course, the words were merely thrown around in jest. Something that bored employees come up with in the break room whenever they’re careless enough to think their little jokes won’t reach said ice queen’s ears. But still—they’re just jokes. As long as they worked enough to satisfy their salaries’ worth, Emma the Ice Queen would always turn a blind eye. She might be cold, but she isn’t completely heartless.

Most of the time.

“Good morning, ma’am,” her secretary, Wonwoo, greeted with a curt nod as she entered her office.

Emma scoffed before setting her things down on her work desk, the frown on her face only worsening when she sees the elegantly wrapped gift box in front of her. “What's this?”

Wonwoo swallowed thickly, like he was nervous. Wonwoo never gets nervous.

“We have an...unforeseen circumstance,” he prefaced before tapping away on the iPad in his arms. “Sir Leo from the Choi group wants to pursue you.”

“Unforeseen?” Emma repeated. “Wonwoo, this is completely foreseen. Isn't it our from the start is to make them fall in love, only for us to expose their dirty secrets in the end?”

He looked as if he wanted to agree. But after turning the screen of his iPad so Emma could see the article written on some shoddy newsletter, her brows furrowed together in confusion.

A Race for the Inheritance: How the Choi Group’s Next Generation of Ambitious Youngbloods Will Do Everything to Get Their Fill of Old Money.

The title itself didn’t give Emma much context of what exactly was making Wonwoo—her ever-composed secretary—lose his composure. It’s natural to see the sons and daughters of a powerful business conglomerate fight each other for their rights to the family inheritance. But after reading through what the rest of the article had to offer, the pieces of the puzzle suddenly started to fit.

“They're seeing who gets to get married first?” Emma laughed incredulously before handing the iPad back to Wonwoo. “Does Leo really think he can get me to become his lover—even more so his wife—after everything he did to me in high school?”

Wonwoo breathed in deeply. “Miss Emma, we both know the answer to that. If it were all up to you, you could easily put him to shame and reject him. But his interests somewhat align with the director’s interests as well…”

Ah. Her father’s interests.

“No,” she answered sharply. “Even if he kicks me out of my position, I’m not going to be wed to that prick.”

“Are you sure about that?” Wonwoo sighed before adjusting his glasses. “Miss Emma, we both know you love your work more than anything. And you're chronically attached to this company even if you despise the executives. Sir Leo has good leverage over you, sad to say.”

There was something irritating about hearing Wonwoo call his ex-best friend Sir, as if he was underneath some scumbag of a human being like Leo. But then again, years have passed since then. Lots of things have changed.

But Emma’s grudges hold steadfast, still.

“Hmph, whatever.” She dismissed the matter with a nonchalant wave before unwrapping the gift box in front of her. “Was this from Leo, too? Is he on a deadline or something?”

“Hmm, first one that gets married before December gets the rights to the inheritance,” Wonwoo informed her as he picked the clutter of ribbons off Emma’s desk and pocketed them in his coat for later disposal. “Do you want me to look up the progress of his siblings and cousins? We can sabotage him while it's still early.”

Emma didn’t respond right away—preoccupied with unwrapping Leo's so-called gift. But when she sees a red velvet box with an engagement ring and a folded letter inside, she begrudgingly realized that Leo wouldn’t be as easy a target as her other high school bullies.

No, this man really was rotten to the core.

By the time you’re reading this, I’m sure you already heard the news. You know what to do, right, Emma?

Or should I say, wifey? ;)

“Send this back to him. Now.”

Wonwoo nodded obediently as Emma pushed Leo's cursed gift box away from her. “Alright. Anything else I can do for you? Like…have someone plant a snake in his bedroom or something?”

Despite the sour mood that Leo undoubtedly put her in this morning, Wonwoo's little idea of a joke made the corners of her mouth turn up into a small smile. The offer was tempting, but in the end, she shook her head and booted up the PC on her desk instead.

“As much as I want his death by a snake bite to headline the news, Leo doesn’t deserve to get out of this the easy way.” Emma muttered as she started browsing through the hard-drive she’d hooked up onto the computer. “And lucky for us, I finally got the evidence to send his suspiciously prosperous career down into a spiral.”

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow before taking a peek behind her. “What's that? Money laundering records? Tax fraud?”

No. It was really something as simple as—

“Footage of a mass orgy he participated in,” Emma casually told her secretary as she clicked on the only video on the hard drive. “Might not look like a big deal compared to what we had to go through with Ezra, but Leo belongs to a family of devout Catholics. Good thing your contact from Leo's favorite bar had some use. All I did was ask around and he quickly spilled all the details with the right amount of money.”

Wonwoo chuckled as he flashed her an impressed look. “As far as I know, I’m the one who’s supposed to do the dirty work for you. Why are you directly involving yourself in matters you can leave to me?”

The lewd video continued to play on her screen—muted, of course—and one could easily make out Leo Choi's face amongst the crowd of sex-depraved freaks. Once they sent this over anonymously to each and every person who might think that scumbag deserved to inherit his family’s wealth, it would be all over for him.

“‘Cause we’re a team, Wonwoo,” she chuckled. “You’ve done your fair share of work when we took down Gavin and Ezra. But admittedly…I've got more bones to pick with Leo. I think it’s only fair for me to orchestrate his downfall with my own two hands.”

“Right…” Wonwoo agreed with a hint of fondness in his tone that completely went over Emma’s head—far too triumphant with her newfound ammunition.

“We’re a team.”

But it wasn’t always that way.

Wonwoo was actually more deeply involved in Emma’s mission to exact revenge on the people who’ve wronged her years ago than one would otherwise expect. He’d been best friends with Leo since they were kids, and when they eventually met Gavin and Ezra in their high school basketball team, the four of them were quite inseparable.

But despite being his best friend, Wonwoo knew that Leo could be quite…off-putting with his behavior sometimes.

“Hey, look at that,” Sixteen year-old Leo scoffed before gesturing towards the loud girl earning amused stares in the cafeteria. “She's so fucking loud. Is she the new transfer student?”

Gavin snickered as he took a bite out of his lunch. “How'd she even get in here? Our tuition isn't a joke, and she doesn't really look like she can afford it. The kid of a maid, maybe?”

“Or she could be one of those financial scholarship kids,” Ezra pitched in with a shrug. “Though she doesn't look very bright if we're being honest.”

Wonwoo didn’t offer anything to the conversation, merely eating his food quietly as his friends talked smack about the new transfer student in their class. Emma Rodriguez was like a piece of meat thrown into a pit of vipers. Some might like her—like the classmates who were howling with laughter because of her antics—but others looked at her with disdain.

She didn’t belong to any wealthy well-known families like every other kid in their grade. The girl simply popped out of nowhere like an eyesore, according to Leo. Wonwoo didn’t really mind her presence though. She made the boring monotone of his school days a bit more bearable with her energy.

But what Wonwoo thought was just his friends’ surface-level dislike for a girl who behaved differently from the others in their grade turned out to be something else.

Something worse.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew what bullying was, and was well-aware that what his friends constantly did to Emma wasn’t something that normal high schoolers did. Leo was the most vicious about it, and Wonwoo never really got to know his reasons for doing all those horrible things.

But whenever they spotted Emma horsing around in the hallways, Leo would always be the first one to come up to her—calling her names like fraud, gold digger, and the like. Gavin and Ezra followed each and every time, and they were usually the ones who pushed her around for no real reason.

And Wonwoo? Wonwoo was the one who always stood a few feet away every time his friends decided they were in the mood to pick on the transfer student. The one who always stayed quiet and pretended nothing unsightly was happening in front of him.

The one whose gaze Emma always tried to silently catch, hoping he’d be the one to stop his friends from harassing her.

But he never did.

That cycle of three boys bullying a once bright and bubbly transfer student became commonplace. Before their third year in high school came to a close, Emma suddenly vanished off the radar. She didn’t attend their classes, nor was she there in the completion ceremonies at the end of every school year.

Most of the kids around Wonwoo didn’t really give two shits about her sudden disappearance. Word around the street was that she transferred out because of the heavy harassment she was getting, not just from his friends, but also the rest of the students from their grade. They didn’t think Emma was funny because of her silly antics and loud jokes anymore.

Everyone started to collectively think of her as a nuisance, and the fact that she had no familial connections to protect herself with only fed into the senseless yet oh-so popular trend of crushing Emma Rodriguez’s hopes and dreams into the ground.

It was almost like Wonwoo was the only person in their entire grade who felt the tiniest bit of pity for her. But he told himself long ago that someone like him had no right to feel sorry for someone he never bothered trying to help.

The years passed by in a flash. After Emma’s disappearance, Wonwoo quit the basketball team and completely cut off his friends and everyone else who actively hurt her. He didn’t really know why either—all he knew was that he couldn’t stomach the idea of keeping those connections despite what they drove Emma to do.

Of course, he knew he wasn’t completely innocent either. But it wasn’t too late to be a decent person, right?

Wonwoo simply went through the motions of graduating high school, then college, before pursuing a career in the vicious world of the corporate hierarchy. But instead of gunning for executive positions like his fellow fresh grads dared to dream, he worked his way up without using his family’s prestige to his own advantage.

In fact, Wonwoo realized he liked working closely with his bosses. That’s why he became the designated secretary to all the finance department heads who walked through the doors of PLEDIS Insurance. He was content with being a jack-of-all-trades kind of guy who’s at the beck and call of someone else—a tool who worked on the sidelines. He never really wanted to be the face of any company anyway.

But then, in his fifth year on the job, he was told that there were a couple of changes in PLEDIS’ executive board. The boss he’d been working under was set to retire and he’d be replaced with a new one—someone younger and full of promise, as the head of human resources dramatically explained to him.

It wasn’t really a deal breaker or anything. As long as Wonwoo got paid, he’d gladly work for even the most terrible of people in this industry.

But on the day his new boss was set to start, he was haunted by a ghost from the past instead.

Wonwoo hasn’t spared a single thought for Emma Rodriguez in God knows how long. Yet the moment she stepped into the office, he recognized her almost immediately. There was no trace of that girl people called gold digger and other derogatory names because of her appearance. This was a woman with her head held high—someone who oozed confidence in every stride with a gaze sharper than her winged eyeliner.

Yet Wonwoo couldn’t be mistaken. This really was Emma Rodriguez.

He wondered if she remembered him, too. The boy who kept quiet about those who bullied her in those few crucial years of her life. Wonwoo even considered apologizing for not doing anything to help her when he should have.

“Ah, Wonwoo Jeon?” Emma repeated his name with a dismissive air, almost like she was wholly uninterested in him. “The one who just watched when Gavin Kim pushed me in the muddy courtyard at school? The one who pretended not to see when Leo Choi splashed paint all over my uniform? Of course I remember you.”

God. Was this her exacting retribution?

For the next few days since she came into the office, Wonwoo helped Emma get used to the feel of things in the Finance Department. At least, that was his intention.

From the looks of it, Emma already knew the ins-and-outs of managing a company’s cash inflow and outflow, as well as the other gritty, more technical details that came with accounting for each and every cent. She managed to prepare and present several sets of data that his previous boss had trouble organizing to the current board of directors within two days’ time.

Her work ethic was admirable—she got the job done quickly and efficiently, and that made her earn the respect of her subordinates faster than Wonwoo had seen them warm up to their previous bosses. It would have been the perfect relationship between the new department head and her employees, if it weren’t for Emma’s stone cold behavior towards other people.

Not only did she look different from the Emma he knew in high school, but she acted differently too. Wonwoo couldn’t picture this Emma purposely making a fool out of herself just to make the people around her laugh. This Emma wanted the entire team to get the work handed to them done as soon as possible, and if they did, the most they’d receive in return is a mere nod in approval and nothing else.

It was for that reason that employees would start calling her the Ice Queen. Though she wasn’t some tyrant that gave people an unreasonable workload—she was actually very lenient and fair about the division of tasks—her people skills needed a little work.

That or Emma was purposely shutting everyone out with her chilly attitude.

Wonwoo had a few clues as to why she’d want to do that, but he’s a secretary, not a therapist. The only thing he could do about it was to keep his silence.

But then came a day when Emma asked him to come into her office to do something he completely expected from her but didn’t at the same time.

“Are you still in touch with Leo, Gavin, and Ezra?” she asked him, not even bothering to look up from the report she’s reading off her PC.

The question caught Wonwoo off-guard and it was obvious Emma caught on to his reaction if the tiny smirk that curved across her lips was anything to go by. Still, he took it in stride—breathing in through his nose as he thought about his answer.

He hasn’t been in touch with any of them since his high school graduation. All their attempts at reaching out to Wonwoo to invite him for a quick game of ball or a round of drinks somewhere in the city were all ignored. Not even turned down—ignored.

Leo was the most persistent about it. After all, they were best friends. But after several years of Wonwoo not even bothering to give their invites a single glance, Leo stopped reaching out altogether. Wonwoo's life became a lot more peaceful since he cut ties with them, and he never really regretted the decision to do so.

But perhaps the universe really was telling him to pay the price for his past inaction now that Emma was bringing up the past on a regular Wednesday afternoon.

“No, ma’am,” he told her honestly. “Do you want me to reach out to them? Their contact details are pretty easy to get our hands on.”

Emma sighed quietly before meeting his gaze, an unreadable look hovering across her face. “Mmm. Yeah, I’d like that. But aren't you going to ask why I want to contact them again?”

He wanted to, but Wonwoo learned that in his line of work, the last thing he should do was ask questions. It made him wonder if Emma was purposely setting him up on some sort of conversational bear trap, but seeing as he didn’t really have anything to lose by giving, he chose to relent.

“...Why?”

The silence of her office rang in his ears as Emma typed away on her keyboard. It was a mechanical one with tactile switches that matched the color of her desktop wallpaper. He didn’t take her to be someone who cared enough about aesthetics to that degree, but then again, Wonwoo never really got a chance to get to know her back then.

He was too much of a coward to do so.

Once she was done, Emma got up from her ergonomic chair (which also matched her desktop setup), leveling her gaze with Wonwoo's even if the latter was easily a head taller than she was. Something about the glint in her eyes made him swallow the lump in his throat. Not to mention that sweet yet chilly smile that graced her bright red lips.

“It’s really simple, Wonwoo,” she told him with a laugh.

“I want revenge.”

And that’s how their little team was formed.

It was a two-person job. Emma entrusted Wonwoo with digging up the information she needed about the three men she wanted to bring down, all while she was in charge of putting their plans into motion by heading over to the front lines.

Gavin was an easy target. Unlike the other two, he’s the only one who pursued professional basketball and for a while, he amassed quite the number of fans and admirers because of his outstanding plays. What’s more was that he managed to wife up a beauty queen who’s already conquered the international stage a few years back. Now with their first baby on the way, one would think that Gavin Kim has a picture perfect life.

But further down the road, talk about how he’s actually a womanizing wife beater started to seep out of the cracks and crevices of the athletic industry. The allegations were serious, but no one really bothered batting an eye. It’s normal. Lots of athletes are like that. We can't do anything about it.

It was easy to get a hold of which gym Gavin frequents to maintain his physique. He preferred working out in public facilities instead of the one provided for his team because it gave him all the freedom to ogle and flirt with other women who just happened to be hitting the gym on days he was on the prowl.

Wonwoo even added a little footnote in the file he prepared that said likes to engage in post-workout coitus in the shower rooms. Emma rolled her eyes in disgust when she read it, but made sure to keep it in mind.

The day finally came when she’d collect enough evidence to ruin Gavin’s career. Emma hasn’t dropped by the gym in a while—work having sapped her energy too much to let her psych herself back into working out. But she realized she didn’t have to act out too much because the moment she started operating the treadmill right next to Gavin’s, he was already checking her out.

He didn’t seem to recognize who she was, unlike Wonwoo. But then again Gavin was easily the stupidest out of her trio of high school bullies. This man was all brawn and no brains, which was why it was all too easy for Emma to seduce him in the showers of this shoddy gym not thirty minutes since she’d arrived.

It wasn’t the most pleasant experience. The last thing Emma wanted was to have this idiotic man inside of her so she offered to go on her knees and blow him instead—something that Gavin was all too happy to relent to.

He didn’t even boast a cock of considerable size. It probably wasn’t any longer than her middle finger, and for a split second, she wondered why his beauty queen wife stayed with him despite having a cock that didn’t back up his cocky attitude. It was probably the money.

Emma didn’t waste much time though. Wonwoo visited this gym only a few hours prior to plant a bug somewhere inside the specific shower stall they were currently occupying. She just had to hope she and Gavin were positioned well enough so the camera would get a full view of what they were doing.

It was the longest twenty minutes of Emma’s life, and she had to go home right away to disinfect her mouth about ten times, but hey. All in the name of vengeance, right?

At around eight in the evening on that same Saturday, her phone lit up with an email notification from Wonwoo.

From: Wonwoo Jeon Subject: CLASSIFIED Good evening, Miss Emma. I hope this message finds you well. I retrieved our bug from the gym earlier today and extracted the videos taken before properly disposing of it. Attached to this email is the MP4 file of our evidence against Mr. Gavin Kim. Around the time this message arrives to you, I have simultaneously sent said evidence to Mr. Kim’s managers, sponsors, teammates, other colleagues, and of course, his wife. The only difference between their emails and yours is that this is a self-destructing message. Once you’ve closed this window, it will be deleted from your inbox without a trace. So if you are interested in watching the video below, best save it to your device of choice for better perusal. If you have any further questions and concerns, I am merely a text message away. Regards, Wonwoo Jeon Secretary, Finance and Logistics Department PLEDIS Insurance

Like hell she was going to watch it.

The moment Emma finished reading through Wonwoo's overly formal email, she quickly exited the window and, true to his word, the message itself had disappeared. Despite being a fairly new player to the game, she had to commend all the precautions Wonwoo was setting to make sure her plans were a success.

It made her wonder if his previous bosses have also asked him to do shady things under the company’s nose in the past. Whether or not that's true, she was reaping the benefits of his expertise, so she had no room for complaints.

As long as she had Wonwoo, she’d get to punish everyone who wronged her without fail.

Gavin’s downfall followed soon after.

Tabloids were their best friend in that scenario. The thumbnail of the video that Wonwoo spread around like some virus that wouldn’t stop replicating headlined every single paper, talking about how one of the most promising basketball stars of their generation had fallen prey to his own vices.

It was a good thing that not only was Wonwoo careful enough to not leave digital footprints as he sent out those emails, but he also edited the video to keep Emma’s identity a secret. As Gavin’s world started to crumble before his eyes—him being kicked off the starting roster of the team, his wife leaving him behind, and the public execution of his reputation—Emma simply shared a bottle of aged wine from Tuscany with the man who helped her pull off a wonderful performance.

“You’re not too bad,” she mused as she took a small sip, crossing her legs from where she’s seated unceremoniously on the edge of her desk. “You're surprisingly more on-board with this plan than I thought. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were never friends with Gavin in the first place.”

Wonwoo retained his stoic demeanor, not having touched the glass Emma offered him simply because it was against company regulations to intoxicate himself on the job. “If my boss tells me to ruin someone's life, I'm mandated to do it. I’m just doing what’s written on my job description, ma’am.”

Emma’s lips stretched into a grin as she threw her head back with a laugh. She leaned in closer to Wonwoo, who seemed wholly unfazed by the fact that the gesture granted him an ample view of her cleavage through her blouse.

“Does your job description cover watching and editing your boss' sex scandal so you can mass send it to hundreds of people?” She giggled before leaning back to take another sip of her drink. “You’re in the green for now, Wonwoo. Keep it up and I might just have a pay raise arranged for you with HR if our next escapade is a success.”

He hummed in understanding. “Who’s next?”

In usual Emma fashion, she didn’t give him a straight answer right away. Instead, she hopped back to the carpeted floor of her office—not even wobbling in those thin heels she’s wearing—before rounding her desk to access her computer.

“Have you been watching TV lately? Primetime soap operas?” she asked him as she clicked away on her screen.

Wonwoo shook his head. “They don’t really interest me, ma’am.”

“I figured they wouldn’t. But this might.”

Emma gestured for him to peer at her monitor and Wonwoo wordlessly followed suit, getting up from his seat and standing behind her. Flashed on the screen was an article from a more reputable news outlet that featured two co-stars who played the main couple in a popular network’s newest drama.

“Ezra Lee and Alaina Park…” Wonwoo muttered under his breath before his eyes flickered to Emma. “You have any leads I can work with?”

His boss chuckled before looking up at him with an expectant smile. “Someone's determined. I never thought I’d get to see someone so eager to do the dirty work for me.”

Wonwoo shrugged. “Miss Emma, I'm not sure if you're aware but desk work gets boring sometimes. You’re right. This is a lot more interesting.”

“Alright, then,” Emma chuckled before retrieving both of their wine glasses and handing Wonwoo's back to him. “Unlike Gavin, I don't have a lot of surface-level leads with Ezra. He’s a celebrity—their reputation needs to be squeaky clean, so it makes sense why I can’t dig up anything about him through regular means. But this should be a piece of cake for you, right?”

Wonwoo stared at the bright red liquor inside the expensive glass, gaze darting to the wicked smile playing on Emma’s lips. If he looked a little closer, he would be able to tell that the shade of her lipstick matches the color of the liquor in her hands.

He took it from her grasp with a sigh, clinking the edges of their glasses together before downing the entire thing in one fell swoop. The wine was aged well, and had somewhat of a sweet aftertaste, but despite the appealing flavor, Wonwoo reminded himself to never drink on the job ever again.

“I’ll get back to you once I have the information you need.”

Wonwoo swiftly left Emma’s office after that little victory party. Even with his new sideline of being his boss’s lead henchman, he still had a lot of work to do for PLEDIS Insurance. And that included telling the other employees to quit horsing around in the break room when their designated lunch break ended hours ago.

“Sir Wonwoo,” one of said employees, Soonyoung, snickered before throwing an arm over Wonwoo's shoulders. “You've been hanging out in Miss Emma's office pretty frequently. Is there something going on? You became close real quickly.”

“Yeah” said one Seokmin, who’s still snacking on a wafer despite Wonwoo's scolding. “Boss, we know you're not the fuck-your-way-up kind of guy, but who knows, right? But with your position right now, do you really need it?”

Seungkwan, the last member of their unruly trio, slapped Seokmin’s arm with a scowl. “Hey! Do you really have to say it to his face? Oh, boss, if you make a report about these two, please know I have nothing to do with whatever they're saying.”

Soonyoung snickered. “Are you sure about that? Weren't you the one who first noticed that Sir Wonwoo was stepping inside Miss Emma's office more frequently—”

“Hey! Boss told us to scram, didn't he?! Let's go.”

Seungkwan quickly ushered his two friends out of the break room, scolding them in a hushed tone before they all went back to their respective cubicles. Wonwoo shook his head with a sigh, muttering something about inevitable rumors as he made himself a cup of coffee.

Was that how they perceived Wonwoo’s sudden closeness with the department head? That he was fucking Emma in the solitude of her office? Well, the idea of a boss having illicit relations with their secretary wasn’t too far-fetched. He’s heard about how the head of the Advertising Department gets frisky with his secretary through the corporate grapevine. But just because it was a popular trope among the employees’ strange fantasies, it didn’t mean it applied to himself and Emma as well.

They were strictly professional: he did the dirty work and she paid him in full. That was all there was to it.

(But what people don’t know was that editing Gavin’s scandal wasn’t exactly the walk in the park Emma thought it was.

Despite being one of the most indifferent people in the company, Wonwoo was still a man. Seeing his boss, whose body would be coveted by anyone who dared to want her, in such a compromising position excited an…unexpected physiological reaction out of him.

His resolve was as sturdy as steel, however. Instead of taking care of the obvious problem in his pants as he edited the scandalous video, Wonwoo dealt with it by taking a long, cold shower until all the blood that rushed down south started circulating properly again.

He told himself not to think about it come morning.)

��A drug den?”

Even Emma was baffled by the news that Wonwoo brought her the following week—a scowl of disbelief permanently etched on her face as she scanned the file her secretary prepared for her. Wonwoo merely stood at her side, waiting for her to finish going through the data he’s gathered.

And he sure hoped she understood every single word printed on it. He practically risked his life trying to investigate Ezra’s secret business. No wonder it was so hard to dig up any dirt on him—dead men tell no tales after all.

“This is…” Emma swallowed thickly before continuing, “way above my expectations. If he was just getting faded on his own with a private dealer, I'd understand. Lots of celebrities do recreational drugs. But for him to head an entire operation? Where'd he find the time on top of his taping schedules?”

Wonwoo sighed. “I would’ve been able to investigate further if his men weren't so meticulous. They're fiercely loyal to Ezra. Couldn’t bribe him like we did with Gavin’s gym coach.”

“And you made sure to keep your identity under lockdown?”

“Positive.”

Emma drummed her fingers across the smooth surface of her work desk—brows furrowed as she stared into nothingness. Though they’ve only been working together for roughly six months at most, Wonwoo knew her well enough to realize she hit a wall.

It made him wonder if this was where she would draw the line. Their success with Gavin gave them both an unexpected high, sure, but Wonwoo recognized that this game they were playing was a dangerous one. The people they were trying to take down had more money and connections than the two of them could ever hope to get their hands on.

But one thing that he failed to recognize right away about Emma was that she’s always been grossly ambitious.

“The file you gave me also mentioned na he was hoping to insure his new house in Incheon,” she pointed out. “Care to tell me why you decided to include that?”

“I know you told me not to involve the company in this as much as we can, but I couldn’t think of any other way to penetrate into his circle.” Wonwoo adjusted his necktie, suddenly feeling like he’s being watched by the hawk that was his boss. “I’ve been told that he’s wary of people. Side effects of the cocaine, probably. Though the info broker sounded like he was joking, it’s best to be wary of him. If he can hide behind the protection of his management and his family, we need to play our cards right and protect ourselves, too.”

Emma took a moment to process what her secretary just told her, nodding slowly before closing the folder containing Ezra’s file and locking it inside a hidden drawer beneath her desk.

“Oh, Wonwoo. If only all men were as intelligent as you are,” she sighed, getting up from her seat before pinching his face. “Good work. Let's go out for drinks later. My treat.”

Wonwoo's face twisted with confusion. “For what? Doing my job?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “For going above and beyond every single time. You think you're only good at doing dirty work? At being my errand boy? You never fall behind your quotas here in the office either, you know. I think that in itself is a cause for celebration.”

Now that she’s reasoned it out, Wonwoo was even more weirded out by this strange turn of events. In the six months that Emma Rodriguez has spent as the head of PLEDIS Insurance’s Finance head, she never failed to uphold that arctic cold façade. She treated both executives and regular employees with the same degree of cut-throat harshness.

And that’s when Wonwoo realized that she didn’t really treat him the way she treated them.

Huh. Did the Ice Queen have a melting point after all?

Despite his extensive protests, however, Wonwoo let Emma rope him into grabbing dinner and drinks at a food hub several districts away from their office. The fewer people who could recognize them outside, the better. Of course, he pleaded and reminded her several times that she was his boss and she really didn’t have to—

“Hey! Keep drinking!” Emma slurred with a huff, face red from the alcohol as she pushed another pint of beer into Wonwoo's face. “Why aren't you drunk yet, huh, Wonwoo Jeon? Are you God? Maybe that's why you're so good at obtaining information for me. Ah! No! Maybe you're the devil! Right, what we're doing isn't exactly good nor is it legal…”

Wonwoo exhaled long and hard as his boss continued blabbering nonsense across from him at their shared table. One glance at the smartwatch on his wrist told him that it was near midnight and that he should probably bring Emma home before she could make a scene.

But…maybe they could stay for a few minutes more.

“Miss Emma? Are you sleepy?”

“Hm? Why would I be sleepy? We're drinking, aren't we?”

“You're half-asleep on the table, so.”

At the prospect of being called out, Emma quickly shot into an upright position—looking around to see if anyone caught her drooling. When she realized she was in the clear, she narrowed her eyes at Wonwoo.

“Not a word about this in the office,” she warned, using one of the finished barbecue sticks on their empty plates to threaten him. “But...yeah. Alcohol makes me sleepy. Drive me home.”

Not even a please. This woman was really shameless even when drunk.

Not a peep of complaint was heard from Wonwoo when he drove Emma all the way to her condo unit in uptown Poblacion. Though he had to practically carry her inside and even help her out of her clothes and into her pajamas (at her request, not his own initiative), he simply told himself this was all part of his job.

When his boss was safely tucked in bed, he was ready to bid her farewell and head back to his own place to catch up on some sleep. But for someone who was intoxicated beyond belief, Emma was still quite aware of her surroundings. The moment Wonwoo took a step away from her bed, her hand shot out to grab ahold of his wrist, making Wonwoo look back at her with an eyebrow raised.

“Wonwoo,” she murmured, face still smothered in her pillows despite her tight grip. “Can you stay?”

“There's nowhere for me to sleep,” he chuckled. “I should go.”

“Then sleep next to me.”

The furrow on his brow merely deepened. He’d ask her to repeat what she said, but Wonwoo could recognize that Emma wasn’t really in the headspace to be reasonable right now. So instead of refuting her wish, Wonwoo carefully pried her fingers off his wrist so he could take off his work coat and fold it neatly on top of her vanity table.

This is all part of the job, he told himself.

Wonwoo laid on his boss’ duvet perfectly still. He didn’t want to make the mistake of touching her when he didn’t have explicit permission to do so. He was merely told to sleep next to her after all—nothing else.

But about fifteen minutes after he lied next to her, Emma shifted on her side of the bed—turning to him with a sleepy look in her eyes.

“You know,” she whispered, so softly, he would’ve missed it if he wasn’t as observant as he was. “I hoped...so hard back then that you would help me when I needed it. But you never did.”

Emma probably won’t remember what she mumbled in her drunken stupor in the morning. But the sadness and honesty that underlined her words sent him back about ten years into the past. To a time when he was a much greater evil than those who directly wronged her.

An apology sizzled across the tip of his tongue—something that’s a decade overdue. But before Wonwoo could hope to let her hear his piece, Emma’s breathing had become even and shallow.

She was already fast asleep.

He sighed, staring up at the dainty ceiling of her bedroom as he chuckled helplessly to himself.

“That’s why I’m making up for it now.”

If Gavin’s case was a walk in the park, Ezra’s was an Olympic-level marathon.

Wonwoo didn’t want to dwell on the details anymore. To cut it short: he was going to cross out ‘exposing a notorious drug lord’ off his bucket list without thinking of doing it again ever. While he managed to get out unscathed during his investigation, it just so happened that their final altercation with Ezra ended up putting Wonwoo in the hospital.

But so what if he fractured a couple of ribs trying to save Emma from being killed by that drug-addicted lunatic? As long as their goal to bring Emma’s enemies down was achieved, he’d gladly sustain any life-threatening injuries.

Which was, admittedly…strange.

Long before Emma came into the picture as his boss, Wonwoo never would’ve pictured himself risking his neck for the benefit of someone else. Though he had an entire arsenal of skills and knowledge at his disposal, it would take more than just his generous salary to get him to put them to good use.

But with Emma, he found himself utilizing whatever means to help her exact her revenge—on people he once called his friends, much less.

He must be going insane.

“Wonwoo…?”

Funnily enough, he ended up recalling everything that happened over the past two weeks first before recognizing that he was just regaining consciousness in the intensive care unit. Wonwoo's eyes hurt because of how bright the fluorescent lights were overhead, but for some reason, he didn’t flinch away from her relieved smile when it was a million watts brighter than the hospital’s indoor lighting.

“Good…day, ma’am,” he croaked out awkwardly, belatedly realizing that he didn’t know what time it was. “What day is it? Did someone fix your schedule for today? Did someone go over your meal plans in my stead? Were you—”

His endless stream of questions was interrupted by hacking fit—making Emma scramble for a glass of water on the table by his hospital bed, a concerned look lining her gaze.

“Don't talk too much,” she scolded him as he finished his drink. “You’ve been out for two days, idiot.”

Two days?

Needless to say, he couldn’t do a thing about it once his boss started fussing over him. She called over doctors she personally knew and handpicked only the most competent of nurses to look after Wonwoo. How Emma could be the judge of that, Wonwoo wasn’t very sure, but he gladly let her take care of him for a change.

After all, they successfully concluded another chapter in Emma’s little revenge story.

“When are we going to start with Leo?”

Wonwoo brought the matter up about three days after he woke up, right in the middle of eating the stale hospital food served to him for dinner. Emma, who was snacking on some takeout fast food, hummed before tossing a french fry into her mouth.

“You're not even healed yet, and you're thinking about work?” she sighed before pointing a fry in his direction. “I’m still paying you your regular wage even if you're stuck here. You don’t have to worry about making ends meet so much, Wonwoo. You just need to rest—”

“But I don’t want to rest, I want to be useful to you,” he interrupted her gruffly, which was strange of him because he never interrupted his employers.

For a moment, Wonwoo thought he’d be on the receiving end of a verbal lashing even if he was still recovering. Emma never let other people talk back to her without consequences. But instead, his boss threw her head back with a laugh that bordered on a snort. It’s a look that Wonwoo had seen on her time and time again—a look that he noticed Emma only showed to him.

Back then, he didn’t really think of her smile all that much. But now…

“You’re being useful enough just by being alive, Jeon,” she reassured him, that grin of hers unwavering. “Enough questions about Leo. I'm not even thinking about him yet because compared to the previous two? He’s a lot easier to track down.”

Wonwoo shot her a puzzled look. “What do you mean?”

“Same approach lang with Ezra.” She flashed him a toothy smile. “We’re going to get him to insure some of his properties under PLEDIS. But instead of us going to him, he'll be going to us instead.”

“I…? Sorry, ma’am. I don’t follow.”

Emma stifled a soft laugh behind her palm, unwrapping the burger included in her takeout meal before taking a bite of considerable size. “The Choi Corporation is expanding a chain of shopping malls somewhere in Jeju. Leo Choi personally contacted our CEO and there we have it: another big shot client.”

Another person to drag down to hell.

“Is that good enough for you?”

Wonwoo was still processing the news as they both finished up their respective meals. He should probably be glad that Emma didn’t decide to put their secret operation on hold just because he was out of commission. But something about how smoothly they’re progressing into the next phase of Emma’s big revenge plan that made him wary of treading any further.

He felt like he was being paranoid—probably the aftermath of almost crossing to the other side because of what happened with the Ezra incident. Wonwoo couldn’t help but be wary of any and all threats to both his life and Emma’s, and it was for a good reason.

“Okay,” Wonwoo breathed, wincing a little when he felt the spot where his ribs broke ache at how fast he inhaled. “What do you want me to do for now? Investigate? Trace his whereabouts?”

Emma’s smile suddenly turned ice cold. “I want you to rest, Wonwoo. Do I have to keep repeating myself?”

“But—”

“No buts. Boss’ orders—I'm your boss, right?”

Ah, there’s the Ice Queen they all knew and loved.

Fine. Maybe he could use a break from all that quote-unquote field work he just did. But one thing about his entire hospitalization still remained unanswered.

“What did you tell HR? About…this?” Wonwoo gestured towards his battered but healing body. “You’ve got the charisma, but I’m pretty sure it’s difficult even for you to go into cahoots with the other employees of PLEDIS. Much more, our human resources head.”

Emma waved away his concerns with a shake of her head. “You're so persistent, aren't you? Don’t think about HR. Or Leo. Or the rest of our plans. Can’t you be a normal salaryman and be happy that you have a break from all the things I make you do?”

“I told you, Miss Emma. I just want to make myself useful.”

“And I told you that you're the least useful in your current state. So give. It. A. Rest,” she threatened, putting emphasis on every syllable.

But behind her intimidating façade was someone who actually cared for him. The details were still a bit muddled in Wonwoo's head, but he remembered being rushed to the hospital in an ambulance. Remembered how Emma never let go of his hand as they made the trip all the way. And how he heard her pray for him to make it out alive despite being a well-known agnostic.

Once their conversation had mellowed down, he laid back against the steady elevation of his bed, watching the scenic city lights glimmer outside the window of his hospital room—just behind the woman who made his life a lot more interesting.

He couldn’t wait to be useful to her again.

“I hate this. I fucking hate this so much.”

Wonwoo spared his employer a quick glance as she practically glared at her reflection in the full-length mirror. He’d been browsing through a sports car catalog tucked underneath the hotel’s coffee table, but watching Emma have a furious meltdown about her wedding was more worth his time.

“You're the one who said that there'll more benefits if you accepted the marriage proposal,” her secretary reminded, crossing his legs as he leaned back on the couch he was sitting on. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Of course I was just…gaslighting myself about this entire fucked up situation!” Emma growled as she stomped over to him with a scowl. “Can’t fucking believe my dad agreed to marry me off just like that, too. After all his talk that I needed to love whoever I'm supposed to marry...”

Wonwoo shrugged. “Anyone can be blinded by money—especially if it's from the Chois.”

“Even you?”

It’s a question that sunk into the room with a rhetorical implication. Emma was quick to exchange the earrings her stylist chose for her with something more suited to her taste—a pair that didn’t sparkle all that much but was worth more than six months of Wonwoo's salary. In her reflection on the vanity mirror, he could clearly see the way her red lips parted in concentration as she clipped the earrings in place.

“No,” Wonwoo responded even if he knew she wasn’t looking for an answer. “I’m more easily blinded by other things, ma’am.”

Emma glanced behind her with a puzzled look, not getting his drift. “Like what?”

Wonwoo didn’t dare think twice.

He got up from his once comfortable position on the couch, closing the distance that sat between him and Emma in long, calculated strides. She didn’t seem fazed by his sudden need to walk over, but the moment Wonwoo was behind her, she stiffened when he reached a hand in front of her face. Then, with a firm yet featherlight touch, her secretary wiped off the lipstick that stained past her lip line with his fingers—not once breaking eye contact with her in the mirror.

“It wouldn’t be fun if I told you, now would it?” He smiled before pulling his hand back. “I need to keep you on your toes sometimes, too, Miss Emma.”

He half-expected her to scoff and brush off his attempt at being smart with her. Emma was a no-nonsense kind of person, and with the wedding happening soon, Wonwoo understood why she’d be more high-strung than usual.

But instead of acting the way she always did with him, Emma took Wonwoo by surprise when she fisted his silken necktie in her manicured nails, tugging him down so that their eyes were leveled with each other. Normally, that wouldn’t be enough to wrestle Wonwoo into complete submission, but this was his boss they were talking about.

There’s a glint in those sharp eyes of hers that had his heart beating off the charts. This wasn’t the gaze of someone entitled the Ice Queen of their office. No, there’s something warm in there—borderline sensual. And before Wonwoo could even hope to figure out what it was, Emma was already closing her eyes and sealing their lips together like some unspoken pact.

It’s an inconsequential kiss. Wonwoo has made out with both men and women alike—all desperate gasps and lust-fueled passion—but somehow, none of those experiences could hold a candle to the way Emma Rodriguez pecked his lips for a fraction of a second before pulling away.

“You're getting more and more insufferable,” she muttered, resting her forehead against his. “You were never this cheeky before. What happened?”

You, he wanted to tell her. You happened.

At that point, Wonwoo's brain was merely operating on carnal instinct alone. He lunged forward to capture her lips again, making her gasp in surprise as he snaked a strong arm around her waist. Thank fucking god Emma’s wedding dress had a simple design—no pretentious frills to obstruct his movements.

Despite the fact that this woman—his boss—was getting married in less than two hours, Wonwoo couldn’t even give a damn. He swiped all the makeup boxes and accessories off the vanity table, propping Emma up on the horizontal surface as he kissed her until she saw stars.

“Wonwoo,” she sighed against his lips, thighs inching apart as he bunched the long hem of her gown up to her waist. He wondered distantly if Emma was going to ask him to stop—to see reason. But the glazed look in her eyes told him otherwise.

“More.”

Wonwoo wanted nothing more than to give her more. He’d do everything she could ever dream of asking him. Never mind the fact that it was more than a little messed up for him to consider fucking his boss right before she’s married off to the man who tormented her endlessly at sixteen.

Nobody else mattered—not Leo, not the director, not even Emma’s intricate revenge plot that was years in the making. At that moment, only the two of them existed, only separated by a few layers of clothing before they could finally become one.

But Wonwoo was abruptly reminded why he always chose reason before ambition long before he met Emma. Dreams and delusions were bound to end when you least expected them to. Reality, on the other hand, would always remind you of life’s harshest truths.

“Miss Emma?” They both could hear the voice of Leo's personal assistant outside the door to the hotel room, preceded by a few short knocks. “It’s time for your prenup shoot. Director Rodriguez is also looking for Sir Wonwoo. Is he in there with you?”

Whatever dream the two of them have fabricated only minutes ago had been erased from existence—all that was left was a bride-to-be with her dress ruffled in all the wrong places, and a pitiful secretary with red lipstick stains adorning his face.

“Yeah, he’s here with me,” Emma yelled over to the doorway, eyes refusing to part from Wonwoo's. “We’ll be down soon. Thanks, Christina.”

“Okay, ma’am. I'll just wait for you in the lobby.”

Wonwoo counted to ten before peeling himself away from Emma, quickly striding towards the bathroom to get some tissues both for himself and his employer. But while he was wiping off the lipstick on the corners of his mouth, Wonwoo immediately noticed the shift in the atmosphere.

Emma was already busy straightening herself out—smoothing down the creases in her gown and retouching her makeup as best as she could without her stylists. Wonwoo wouldn’t have minded the silence, it’s exactly the kind of setting he preferred working in.

But just when he thought he’d managed to melt the Ice Queen’s heart over the past year, she turned arctic cold all over again.

“After the wedding, tell my driver to accompany me to Leo's penthouse. Though I despise the idea, we have to go home together to keep up the act for everyone to see.” She gave her orders the same way she used to tell Wonwoo to sort the company’s financial reports—straight to business with little room for playing around. “Other than that, I don't have any more orders. You can rest easy for the day, Wonwoo.”

He felt like he should say something to address what just happened between them five minutes ago. To ask why she was pretending as if they weren’t breathing each other in like all the oxygen on the planet had gone in a flash. But Wonwoo wasn’t some desperate fool that overestimated his place in Emma’s life.

“Duly noted, ma’am,” he muttered with the same degree of aloofness she’d just given him before tossing the soiled tissues in the trash. “I’ll be waiting for you outside.”

Emma didn’t even break face as Wonwoo's footsteps resounded on the carpeted floor. She didn’t even spare him a second glance. But then again…

He was her secretary, and she was his employer.

That was all there was to it.

Much to Wonwoo's surprise, Leo's case was closed much sooner than he thought it would be.

Before Emma could even make it to the cathedral, the commotion had already started. Wonwoo had arrived earlier in the venue with Emma’s father, the director of PLEDIS Insurance, and were just about to take their seats among the other principal sponsors when the television screens mounted all over the church suddenly started playing a video.

A video that Wonwoo has already seen before.

He didn’t have to glance at Leo to know that he was sporting the most horrified look he could muster upon seeing one of your many sex scandals having an impromptu screening at the cathedral. Collective gasps and disgusted remarks were heard in a chorus of murmurs that reached all the way up to the high ceilings.

Wonwoo could hear Leo's assistant, Christina—who turned out to be part of the sex parties her boss secretly indulged in—barking orders for the church staff to cut the feed. But it was too late. Those who needed to see the truth have already gotten their fill.

Recognizing that his daughter couldn’t possibly be wed to a man with a reputation that’s been tarnished in a church, of all places, Director Rodriguez ordered Wonwoo to contact the bridal car driver and tell him to send Emma straight home instead. It’s a job that Wonwoo got done fairly quickly, and despite the numerous text messages that Emma sent him demanding answers about what happened, he didn’t respond to any of them right away.

After a few hours of digging around, Wonwoo eventually found out that one of Leo's cousins was behind the public exposé. Apparently, said cousin was able to obtain the same footage that Emma acquired and was able to sabotage Leo's attempt at seizing their family riches before Emma could even put her plans into motion.

Well, at least someone else already did the dirty work for them.

As usual, Wonwoo collated all the information he’s gathered in a concise email. This was how he kept Emma up to speed about their progress—through self-destructing emails. He informed her about the involvement of Leo's cousin and how the trash had taken itself out, ensuring that Leo Choi had fallen from the false pedestal he’s clung onto for years.

Their behind-the-scenes mission has been fulfilled.

While he didn’t expect Emma to respond enthusiastically, receiving radio silence in return wasn’t something Wonwoo had anticipated either. But he opted not to read into it much. She must’ve been royally pissed that Leo's demise wasn’t brought about by her own hand, and Wonwoo respected that.

The following Monday after the canceled wedding, however, he ended up finding out the reason behind her silence.

“Boss,” sobbed Seokmin when Wonwoo timed in at the office. “Please don't leave!”

Immediately backing him up was Soonyoung, who didn’t hesitate to hug Wonwoo, even giving him a few pats on the shoulder as if they were old drinking buddies. “It's okay, Sir Wonwoo. You've been here long enough. Maybe it's about time you found your path elsewhere.”

…Huh?

“What are you talking about?” Wonwoo voiced out his confusion. “You’re speaking like I got fired.”

As if on cue, the third member of their trio walked in on the conversation as he sipped on his usual iced americano. Seungkwan stared at Wonwoo with a puzzled expression before saying:

“But weren't you fired, sir? Miss Emma announced it this morning, but I think she left right away after, too.”

Not privy to the way the pieces started to click in his head, Seokmin and Soonyoung kept consoling Wonwoo as he made his way to his (old) cubicle. Emma had been one step ahead too—someone already having packed away most of his belongings in storage boxes. Not to mention the notice of contract termination sitting on his desk. Effective immediately, it says.

“I really don't get it though” Seungkwan droned behind him. “You? The best secretary in the city? Fired just like that?”

Seokmin nodded. “I don't understand it either. You two were business-as-usual after the wedding. Miss Emma must've been so pissed that she didn't get married that she laid off the boss here.”

“True,” Soonyoung agreed with a snicker. “Boss, maybe Miss Emma's just being unreasonable. I bet she'll be begging for you to come back in a few days' time.”

Yeah. That’s what the situation would seem like to an outsider. But Wonwoo knew perfectly well that Emma wasn’t bluffing about this. She fired him for a reason that’s been stewing for more than a decade. Even if Gavin, Ezra, and Leo have had their taste of justice, Emma’s revenge plot wasn’t finished like Wonwoo thought it was.

Because Wonwoo was one of her targets all along, too.

I hoped...so hard back then that you would help me when I needed it. But you never did.

“Where is she?”

Seungkwan perked up. “Uh, maybe she went home? She told us something about feeling a bit under the weather?”

Seokmin nodded. “She's probably in her penthouse or something. If i were you, I'd start making it up to her.”

“Hey, you're talking like they're actually dating,” Soonyoung scolded with a laugh.

Not even bothering to thank them, Wonwoo turned on his heel and made a beeline for the office entrance—dead set on doing exactly what Seokmin jokingly suggested.

This is why I'm making it up to you, he mused with an exasperated air as he buckled up in his car.

Can’t you just let me in?

Emma spent her first Monday after the entire wedding disaster with Leo holed up in her unit—stuffing herself full of ice cream. The only reason she bothered going to the office today was to formally announce that her secretary Wonwoo Jeon was fired—just like she’d been planning since the moment she met him again as her secretary after all these goddamn years.

Her high school bullies have been put in their place. Her fifteen-year revenge plot was finally over.

But why did she feel so fucking depressed about it?

She sighed pitifully when she realized she’d already emptied her tub of double dutch ice cream, finally deigning to get up from the couch to deposit it in the kitchen for later disposal. But just when she was about to continue moping in her living room, the doorbell to her unit buzzed from the entrance, making her glance that way curiously.

It could be her next-door neighbor. A kind, elderly woman who lived with her daughter. She borrowed Emma’s rosemary spices yesterday—something that she barely used because she often opted to go for food deliveries instead of whipping up her own meals.

With that reasoning in mind, she didn’t bother checking who was at the door through the peephole. She simply undid the locks before opening the door—only to come face-to-face with—

“Hey,” Wonwoo sighed as he jammed his foot between the door and the doorframe. “Ma’am, please talk to me first. Did you think I wouldn't catch onto what you were trying to do?”

“Why do I have to explain myself to you? You’re fired, right?” Emma growled as she pushed the door with her back, but sadly, Wonwoo easily overpowered her. At least he was decent enough to not let himself in—he simply lingered out in the hallway with a placid look on his face. “What?”

“Emma,” her ex-secretary addressed her for the first time without any formalities. “If you fired me as vengeance for not helping you all those years ago, I get it. I deserve it, even. But after what happened sa hotel…

“You can’t convince me there’s nothing between us anymore.”

Her breath hitched, face growing warm at the reminder of that intimate moment they shared hours before she was supposed to get married. Whenever she closed her eyes, she could still feel Wonwoo's mouth on hers. But that wasn’t a thought that was healthy to entertain at the moment.

“What are you saying? That was all part of the plan, you know?” She bluffed with a mirthless laugh, fully turning to face him as she crossed her arms. “Make you smitten enough with me to let your guard down. Look, you didn't expect me to fire you, did you?”

“No, but you can’t fool me, Emma,” Wonwoo chuckled with a self-satisfied smirk. “You wanted me too—that was real. If I’m mistaken, then make me leave. Call security on me. If I’m the nuisance you so desperately want me to be, then get rid of me here and now.”

The silence was thick between them. Emma was practically shaking with frustration as Wonwoo stared down at her with that overconfident look on his face. She wanted nothing but to punch him, hit him, slap him—

Kiss him.

Maybe Wonwoo was right. Maybe Emma did want him more than she led herself to believe.

Because why the hell did she fist the front of Wonwoo's work shirt before pulling him inside her penthouse? Why did she slam him against the door, earning a sexy groan from him as she crushed their lips together?

Was this a healthy way to deal with your current predicament? No—definitely not. But it felt too fucking good to pass up on.

Wonwoo, however, was all too quick to regain control—hooking one of Emma’s thighs around his waist as she gasped into his mouth. She could practically feel him smirk against her lips, and though she’s loath to admit, it only made her want him even more.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” he chuckled before peppering her neck with love bites. “You might need to kill me first before I stop pursuing you.”

Emma spared him a breathless laugh that quickly melted into a moan when Wonwoo's hand found itself inside her oversized sleep shirt. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were obsessed with me, Jeon.”

His fingers were warm against her skin, and Emma couldn’t help the full-on shudder that racked her body when Wonwoo grazed her bare nipples. The smile on his face was wicked—dangerous, even.

“Maybe I am,” he chuckled, his breath fanning against her flushed face.

“What would you do if I was obsessed with you, Ma’am?”

Emma was well aware that Wonwoo knew the answer to his own question. It was obvious in the way he quickly picked her up from the floor, fully wrapping both her legs around his waist as he carried her towards her bedroom. But despite the carnal urgency in his grip, Wonwoo was awfully gentle as he laid her down on the mattress.

“Last chance to kick me out,” he murmured against her ear as he started unbuttoning his shirt. “You could exact your revenge on me even better, ‘no? I’m giving you the leeway to frame me for forced entry…among other things.”

God. She knew Wonwoo was a little crazy when he accepted Emma’s orders to help her make his old best friends suffer. But the way he looked at her with such crazed desire further confirmed her suspicions.

And she didn’t want her men any other way.

“Fuck me, Wonwoo,” she told him clearly before stripping her own clothes and laying herself bare for him to feast on—eyes lidded, desiring him just as much as he did her. “That’s an order.”

He shook his head with a chuckle, and Emma had to force herself not to drool over his perfectly built torso. If she had more patience, she would’ve taken her time worshiping every inch of Wonwoo's body, but he’d already set a fire in the pit of her stomach. One that she fully expected him to deal with sooner than later.

“So wet for me,” he observed with a lopsided smirk, pressing their foreheads together as he lathered his fingers with her slick. “Have you always wanted me this way? Do you touch yourself to the thought of me, Miss Emma?”

Yes. Fuck, yes.

“That’s none of your business, Jeon,” Emma stubbornly insisted, keeping herself from moaning when his lips descended onto one of her hardened nipples.

Wonwoo made good on the opportunity, using the fingers he’d used to feel up her slick cunt to rub her essence across the other bud he wasn’t suckling on. The effect was near immediate—Emma throwing her head back with a pretty little whimper as Wonwoo started to massage her breasts.

Fuck. He’d always dreamed of getting to smother his face between them.

“Wonwoo,” she gasped out loud, hips bucking desperately when he bit down on her sensitive flesh. “F-Fuck me. Now.”

“Demanding.” He pulled away from her sensitive nipples with a pop, staring up at her with a lustful gaze. “You enjoy ordering me around too much, you know?”

“You enjoy being ordered around, too,” Emma pointed out with a scoff, trying her best not to moan too loudly when Wonwoo's fingers started to toy with her leaking cunt again. “Just—I need you. Please.”

Ah, he never thought the day would come when he’d hear Emma Rodriguez begging for his cock.

“Okay, Ice Queen,” he relented with a playful laugh, kicking his underwear and trousers off as he pumped his already hard length. “Since you're so eager for me to fuck you, I’m not going to prep you anymore. You better not cry when my cock splits you open, okay?”

Hearing him talk so lewdly to her made her pussy gush with excitement. What’s more was that, not only was her secretary blessed with a face and body that gods would covet, but his cock was something she was afraid she’d keep looking for even when he was done with her.

He was awfully careful when he first pushed inside of her, sharp eyes riveted on her face as it twisted with both pain and pleasure alike. His size was something that one needed getting used to, and he wasn’t about to make his first time with Emma uncomfortable for her.

No, he wanted her to keep thinking about him even after they’ve had their fill of each other.

“Squeezing me so fucking tight,” he rasped against her neck, licking a long stripe along the column of her throat to make her shiver. “Too bad you already fired me. I always wondered what it would feel like to bend you over and fuck you in your office.”

He could feel her pussy squeeze his cock even tighter at the shameless image she put in her head, making Wonwoo smirk with pride as he started to move. Emma mewled his name, grabbing his face as he chased his lips. He was all too willing to give her what she wanted, meeting her with an open-mouthed kiss as their tongues clashed together in time with his thrusts.

“W-Wonwoo,” she moaned into his mouth, hips eagerly meeting his. “Deeper. Fuck me deeper.”

And fuck her deeper, he did—Emma’s got him wrapped around her pretty manicured fingers, after all.

Wonwoo was relentless with the way he pounded her into the bed, the sound of skin slapping against skin ringing much too loudly in his ears. But he didn’t fucking care. The feel of Emma’s velvet pussy walls pulsing around his cock sent his mind into a frenzy—fucking her until the bedframe creaked, until Emma was begging him to give her more, more, more—

All of a sudden, she gasped, “Coming, coming—!”

If being inside her was life-changing, feeling her cum around his cock sent Wonwoo straight to heaven. Her cunt spasmed deliciously as Wonwoo helped her ride out her high—lips locked together as they breathed each other in.

“Cum inside me,” she murmured deliriously into his mouth, practically rubbing her breasts—sensitive and littered with all the marks Wonwoo left on them—against his toned chest. “Make me yours, Jeon.”

He didn’t have to be told twice.

“God, I love you,” he sighed a little mindlessly, and those carelessly uttered words made Emma’s eyes widen with surprise before losing herself to the feeling of delirium.

Wonwoo spilled his load inside her quivering cunt with a long-winded moan, feeling like he’d been shot through the head and was experiencing a level of euphoria that bordered on illegal. Emma moaned at the feel of his warm cum filling her to the brim, bringing him down for another sloppy kiss as the heat of the moment started to dissipate in the quiet atmosphere of their bedroom.

As their breaths started to settle, Emma was the first to glance at him—to meet his eyes. Wonwoo couldn’t find any trace of the arctic cold Ice Queen that practically told him to scram the other day at the hotel.

No, it was just Emma.

His Emma.

“Can I still take back my verdict?” she muttered softly, inching closer to bury her face in his chest. Wonwoo instinctively pulled her in for a tender embrace, kissing the crown of her head with a smile.

“You mean the contract termination?” Wonwoo chuckled. “Take it up to HR, Miss Emma. I’m just a lowly secretary.”

All of a sudden, Emma rolled over so that she was seated upright on the bed. Wonwoo had to keep himself from groaning at the sight of her—hair disheveled and body sporting all his marks. Seeing her freshly fucked by him was doing things to his libido.

“You’re not just my secretary, Wonwoo,” she sighed, twiddling with her fingers awkwardly. “I…I wasn’t going to fire you anymore. I got used to your company. I…

“I fell in love with you.”

The words floated between them like a cloud that couldn’t easily be swept up by the wind. Wonwoo offered her a comforting smile before pulling her into a firm kiss.

“Yet you fired me anyway,” he pointed out with a laugh. “Why? You couldn’t deal with the fact that you fell in love with one of your high school bullies?”

That earned him a punch in the shoulder. “You’re not one of them. You’re different.”

“And you’re in love with me too, no? You said it yourself. Since when?”

Shaking his head, Wonwoo then pressed a soft, featherlight kiss on her nose—one that had Emma’s heart fluttering like she was a schoolgirl.

Gosh, this man. He’s fifteen years too late.

“Maybe I’ve always been a little in love with you. Who knows?” Wonwoo spared her a Cheshire cat smile. “There’s more where that came from though.”

Emma punched him in the chest this time—a bit too close to the spot where he broke a few ribs months prior. But he didn’t care.

She could send him to hell and back and he’d do it for her in a heartbeat.

From: Wonwoo Jeon

Subject: NOT-SO CLASSIFIED

Good evening, Miss Emma. I hope this message finds you well.

I heard that you dealt with quite a stressful client today. I’m very sorry that I wasn’t here to help you with the matter as I was given tasks to do elsewhere. In order to make up for this lapse on my part, I am cordially inviting you to dinner at 7PM tonight after work.

Rest assured, the expenses shall be shouldered by me and your only job is to sit and look gorgeous as I wine and dine you for the evening. Sincerely hoping for your most favorable response.

Regards,

Wonwoo Jeon

Secretary, Finance and Logistics Department

PLEDIS Insurance

Your boyfriend :)

end notes: this wasnt thoroughly proofread so if you spot some strange errors (aka sentences in a different language bc this fic was partly in filipino) here and there, pretend you didn't see em! as always, ur feedback means everything to me so scream in the tags or my ask as much as you want ^__^

#svthub #seventeen smut #wonwoo smut #seventeen fanfic #wonwoo fanfic #lovelyhan #full-length fic 📚#wonwoo x oc #wonwoo x reader

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shadowuponstorm · 12 days ago

Text

He is Nothing Like You

Tim and Reader have been secretly married for three years, which has done them good, considering the risks of Tim's occupation. One day, while Tim was on shift, he never expected his secrets to start ripping at the seams and spill onto the floor.

MDNI 18+ since it involves sexual activities! I’m gonna do a second part

"I've been meaning to ask you, what's the ring around your neck?" Lucy asks, trying to break the silence in the shop.

"Not that it's any of your business, but it's just a ring to me, no specific meaning," Tim responds while silently praying Lucy would end the conversation there, "Also it's safer if it's around my neck than on my finger."

"Grey wears his wedding band, and you don't see him having any trouble with it," Lucy mentions as Tim chuckles and reminds her that Luna would kill him if he ever took his ring off.

"Just let it go and focus on other important things, like that carjacker right there," Tim said, causing Lucy to jerk her attention back in front of her as he stopped the shop and the both of them get to work.

Once the carjacker was booked and processed, Tim and Lucy were on their way to get back on the road when Grey stopped them with a, "Bradford, my office real quick."

Lucy asks, "What is that all about?" Tim responds, "I don't know, just wait by the shop. I'll be there when I'm finished."

Tim enters Grey's office to see his wife, Y/N, sitting in one of the chairs. "She doesn't look pleased about something," Tim thought to himself before Grey excused himself to let the couple talk privately.

-Y/N's POV-

"Is everything okay?" Tim asked me while I got up from the seat to stand in front of him before I ask him, "Do you remember telling me when we first started dating that your dad died?"

Tim gulps before clearing his throat and answered, "Yes, why are you bringing that up?"

"I was cleaning the house up when the phone rang. It was a hospice nurse calling for you because Tom Bradford was asking for you," I responded before continuing, “Thinking it was the wrong number, I called Genny to ask her what was happening. She told me I needed to have that conversation with you."

Before Tim could answer me, Grey popped his head in to remind Tim about an old case regarding a family friend, Monica Ochoa.

"Do you need to go? I'm not mad. I'm just so confused," I said before Tim turned his head towards Grey and told him he was still on it before turning his attention back to me.

"I'll explain it later, I promise," Tim responds before I nod. Understanding his tone's urgency, I told him I'd be waiting with Kojo at home.

Hours passed before I heard the doorknob jiggle; Kojo had heard it since he had jumped off the couch to run to the door and greet Tim.

"Hey bud," I hear Tim say as his footsteps start toward the living room, bringing him into view.

"Hi," I say as Tim takes a seat next to me before he takes my hands in his.

"I haven't been honest with you about everything, and I am truly sorry. It wasn't fair of me to let you get whiplash from finding out I lied about my dad being dead," Tim responds as I notice tears brimming in his eyes, making me take my hands back and put one of them on his cheek, running my thumb along the bone.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. I meant what I said. I'm not mad at you," I whisper, reassuring him before he sighs and responds, "I know, but it still wasn't right of me. So, I want to tell you everything."

"Okay," I say as Tim clears his throat to mention, "The reason I told you he was dead is because he's dead to me. He was abusive. To me and Genny, mostly me."

Before I can ask, he says, "When I was 7, he smashed my head into a wall. Another time, he left me at Griffith Park with only a compass to find my way home, said it's supposed to turn me into a man."

"Tim," I croak out before tears started to fall down my cheeks, "Now I feel bad that you had to reopen those wounds."

"No, no, don't you dare blame yourself," Tim said as he wiped the tears before continuing, "I should've been honest from the get-go, but instead, I wanted to keep that part of my past secret to spare you from the pain. And it was about time I told you since I have to see him."

"You don't need to see him if you don't want to. Don't let this hospice situation guilt you," I respond before Tim shook his head and told me it had to do with the Ochoa case.

"I think he had something to do with it; now I have to face him," Tim says, looking like the little boy who just wanted his dad's love, which prompts me to ask, "Want me to come with you?"

"No, you don't have to. I wouldn't force you," Tim started to say before I cut him off, "I want to. You're my husband, and my vows stated that I will be by your side for every obstacle in your path."

"Okay," Tim whispered as the both of us exited the house hand in hand, preparing to battle this demon together.

We arrived at the facility and entered the room to see my father-in-law lying in his hospital bed.

"Oh, man. Never thought I'd see your face again. Genny tell you to visit?" Tom says as I squeeze Tim's hand harder in comfort.

"Wow, liver really did a number on you, old man," Tim responds before Tom tells him he doesn't have it so bad.

"Nurses here all love me. It's just no one will bring me that shot of Patron I keep asking for," Tom says as he jesters toward the apple juice, saying it's a joke.

"A cruel joke if you ask me," I thought before glancing at Tim's face to see he thinks the same.

"You always seem to have someone looking after you, even when you don't deserve it," Tim responds, squeezing back my hand.

"Something on your mind, son?" Tom asked, clearly wanting this to be done and over with.

"Remember Frank Ochoa? Lived down the street. Shot to death 25 years ago. Well, I'm sure you remember his wife, Monica," Tim responds.

"Can't say I do," Tom deflects, obvious sign that he does remember.

"Come on. You were sleeping with her behind Mom's back," Tim says, making Tom laugh, and he asks where he got that from. Tim mentions that he saw the two of them together when he was 13.

"Oh, crap," Tom says before Tim continues, "For some reason that I still don't understand, I lied for you, lied to Mom."

"Poor little Tim-Tim," Tom degrades before spouting out, "What are you bitching about? You kept your mouth shut. You did good. Now get over it."

I feel my blood start to boil in anger at the audacity, the disrespect this son of a bitch in front of me had for the man I plan to spend forever with and have children with, but I keep quiet because he seems to not care about my presence.

"You know, I found the gun that you hid in the wall. I know you killed Frank. But why'd you do it? You wanted Monica all to yourself?" Tim asked before continuing, "Ruining one family wasn't just enough for you, was it?"

Tom takes his cannula out before getting off the bed and walking towards us. "And so what if I did?" What are you gonna do about it?"

"Get back in bed," Tim grits out as he moves me to stand more behind him for safety reasons, prompting Tom to challenge him with a "Make me."

"Yeah, that's what I thought. You're right. I killed Frank. But he had it coming. So screw him, and screw you," Tom says before telling Tim to put the cuffs on him and drag him away from his deathbed like a big man.

"This isn't over," Tim responds as he grabs my hand again, and we both leave Tom's room.

"I'm sorry. You shouldn't have heard all of that," Tim whispers before entering the truck, "I have to get to the station and type up that report. I'll drop you off at home before I do."

"No, take me with you, it would save gas," I said as I explained to Tim it wouldn't make sense to do that.

After arriving at the station, Tim heads to one of the computers while I follow him. I glance over to see his rookie, Lucy, walking over.

"My dad confessed to Frank Ochoa's murder. I'm typing up the report," Tim tells Lucy as she looks at me before gesturing there were ears listening, "She's my wife, she knows."

"Wait, wife?! As in ring on the finger?" Lucy asked in shock as I raised my left hand to show her my wedding band, "We'll get to that later, but Tim, while you were gone, I brought Monica Ochoa back in."

"Why?" Tim asks as Lucy explains, "Because I knew there was more to her story. You couldn't see past the version that you wanted to see."

"What'd she say?" Tim asks again, before Lucy tells him what was confessed.

The look on Tim's face tells me we're going straight back to that hospice facility. We walk back into the room and see Tom snoring in the chair, so Tim places the shot glass and pours Patron before placing the bottle on the table, waking Tom up.

"You brought me a present?" Tom asks before Tim tells him to think of it as a push.

"You didn't kill Frank," Tim says as Tom repeats that he did and tells Tim to cuff him, "Monica confessed."

"Leave her out of this," Tom responds.

"Frank was beating her. She fought back. She shot him. She was terrified, so she ran to you. You came up with the burglary story, helped her stage the house, then you hid the gun in case the cops got too close and you needed to frame someone else," Tim says.

"He was a brutal, abusive bastard. She deserves a medal for what she did," Tom responds, making me and Tim look at him in shock.

"He was an abusive bastard?" Tim asked, testing Tom for what came out of his mouth.

Feigning confusion that was fake, Tom asked if he was like him, which prompted him to say he was nothing like Frank.

"I taught you what you needed to know, son. You're a man now because of me," Tom says before I finally let my voice be heard.

"No, absolutely not. You are not getting credit for how Tim turned out," I gritted through my teeth as Tom looked at me with disdain before asking me who I was, "I happen to be the woman your son is going to spend the rest of his life with. I'll be damned if I stand by and let his piece of shit father try to take what's rightfully his credit. You deserve nothing of the sort, he's nothing like you and he will never be like you."

"Tim, you're going to let your wife speak to me this way?" Tom asked before Tim scoffed and responds, "She's right. I'm who I am in spite of you."

As Tom sits there stunned, Tim says, "Goodbye, Dad. I hope it hurts."

We left the facility without looking back, and after we arrived home, I suddenly felt my body being moved to where my back faced the door and I craned my neck up to look into Tim's eyes.

"Thank you," Tim whispers as I look at him in confusion, "Thank you for being by my side for that. I know it wasn't easy, but you were right. I needed you there with me."

"You don't have to thank me for that, I will always be there for you," I say before Tim smiles and leans down to kiss me.

After kissing for what felt like minutes, Tim moves his mouth to be near my ear and he whispers, "I'm also really turned on by you defending me."

I laugh before asking, "Oh are you? What are you going to do about it?"

I feel Tim's hands move down to my ass before I squeak out in surprise as he hoists me up, causing me to wrap my legs around his waist and feel the outline of his dick through his jean.

"I think I'm going to give my beautiful wife a thank-you gift," Tim whispers before moving towards our bedroom and putting me down on the bed.

"Tim, you don't have to," I started to protest before he cuts me off, "Just let me do it, you deserve it."

My attention gets grabbed while I watch his hands curl around the collar of his shirt before he pulls it up off his body, which, I feel myself start to drool over my husband's abs. His hands then moved to his belt to unbuckle it before he walk up to me and get down on his knees so he can be on the same level as me. Tim pulls me into another kiss, one more passionate than the last, as I feel his hands unbutton my jeans before he pulls the materials down to my ankles to take them off, leaving me in my black panties. He then positions my body to lean back against the pillows before he moves himself to be above me, Tim asks, "Is this okay?"

Not trusting my voice, I nodded my head before Tim's fingers curled around the sides of the panties as he started pulling them down. He groans out in pleasure as he changes his position, his shoulders in between my thighs, keeping my legs where he wants them to be, his hands near the area I yearn for him to pay attention to. I shivered when I felt his breath before he placed his mouth on me, causing me to let out a shuttered moan. When I felt myself getting close, Tim pulled away, causing me to groan out in frustration, making him laugh.

"The only way you're cumming is around my dick," Tim whispered in my ear as he gets himself out of his pants and boxers while he pushes my shirt up to above my chest, showing the matching black bra.

The both of us let out a groan as Tim enters me and starts to thrust, his dick hitting all the right places. After minutes passed, the both of us came and Tim's body moves to his side of the bed as I tell him that was a great gift, making him he let out a soft laugh.

"Glad to be of service," Tim says getting out of bed and putting on clean boxers and pajama pants before he goes to the bathroom to grab a washcloth to clean me up.

After Tim cleaned me up and helped me get dressed, he got back into the bed to pull me into him so we can cuddle.

"Tim?" I said after a moment of silence, causing him to say, "Yeah?"

"I have something for you," I respond before reaching over into my nightstand and pulling out a small box, "I was going to give you this later, but now feels right."

Tim opens the box and pulls out a onesie that says, "My daddy will arrest you if you mess with me."

"Babe, this is perfect for our future baby," Tim responds before he felt his voice stop short when he sees what else is in the box, reaching in to pull out the pregnancy test, "Are you really?"

"Yes, I found out two weeks ago, you're going to be a dad, Tim," I said as Tim pulled me into a tight embrace before kissing the top of my head, "And you're going to be the best dad, I just know it."

"I love you so much," Tim whispers before pulling me into the most loving kiss a girl could ask for.

Tim may have had the worst pick in the dad potluck, but no doubt in my mind he will never treat our children the way Tom treated him and Genny.

#tim bradford imagine #timothy bradford #the rookie #the rookie imagine #eric winter imagine #eric winter #tim bradford #tim bradford smut #the rookie smut #tim bradford fic #tim bradford x reader

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lannister-rose · 6 months ago

Text

Duty Ends Where Love Starts - Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Summary: Sweethearts since childhood, you and Aegon were always meant to be together, but when duty, love, and political rivalry all clash together, you both find yourselves in loveless marriages with other people. After an argument breaks out between your husband, Aemond, and his brother you seek to help mend the issue. When you find yourself in Aegon's chambers alone with only him, suppressed emotions bubble their way to the surface.

Warnings: Reader is Rhaenyra's daughter, Slight Aemond x Reader (One Sided), Infidelity, Heavy emphasis on infidelity, Targcest (Uncle and Niece), Arranged marriages, Smut, P in V sex, Creampie, Mentions of pregnancy, use of Moon Tea, Minors Do Not Interact (MDNI)

Word Count: 2.9k

You were three and ten when Aegon kissed you for the first time in the library of the Red Keep while you were both supposed to be studying. It was your first kiss, and his, too; neither of you knowing what to do as your lips met each other's. It was clumsy and awkward, lasting only a few seconds, but it felt like a bliss-filled eternity before you pulled away, your cheeks burning as a deep shade of bright red covered them, you stuttering as you failed to find the right words to tell the boy who you had fallen for.

After that day you begged your mother, Rhaenyra, to speak with your Grandsire about having you wed to Aegon when you both came of age, telling her that you'd never have another take your hand in marriage. Your mother honored your request, but it was Aegon's mother, the Queen Consort Alicent Hightower, who refused to betroth her eldest to you.

When the time came, you found yourself Aemond Targaryen's wife, a marriage that would prove itself to be far from fulfilling. Aemond loved you, as he claimed, but the feelings were far from reciprocated, even as you spent more time with him over the years. He wasn't Aegon. Still, duty always called to those who held it, and you were his wife by law.

"Where is Aegon?" Your Grandsire, Viserys, questioned one night over supper, looking around the table for his son. "Do any of you know where he is?" He asked again, looking to the fellow members of your family for any insight. You had to admit, you were curious, too. It wasn't like him to miss supper, especially not when his favorite wine was being served.

"He and I had an argument," Your husband answered from beside you, the traces of a smug smirk on his face as he glanced over at you. "He had some choice words regarding my Lady Wife and I, and I made sure to put him in his place." You raised a brow at the information, unable to feign disinterest any longer. "My elder brother is likely sulking in his room right now as any child would." You watched as Alicent shot him a look, a warning to her son not to bring further drama to the already tense table.

"You two have been at each other's throats since we were children, Aemond." You stated plainly, standing up from your seat. "I do not wish to hear of your bickering with him, not at supper." You moved, heading towards the room's entrance. "I've lost my appetite, please excuse me."

You left, moving through the halls and towards Aegon's chambers. It had been your job since you were young to be your uncles' mediator, helping mend, or at least calm them both after their arguments. This one would be no different. You didn't bother knocking on the door once you were at his room, quickly dismissing the guards before stepping in.

He sat at his desk, staring down into a cup of wine with a mix of irritation and what looked to be a hint of hurt on his face as he swirled the dark liquid around in its cup. His deep purple eyes turned upwards to look at you briefly as you entered before returning down, the prince not bothering to react much to your sudden intrusion into his chambers.

"Has anyone ever taught you it's rude to barge into someone else's chambers without knocking first, Lady Velaryon?" He asked, the statement more of a playful jab than a question, even despite his slightly annoyed tone of voice.

"You and Aemond fought, and I hear it involved me, Uncle." You said, skipping straight to the point as you grabbed a spare chair from elsewhere in the room and pulled it up to the desk, sitting next to Aegon. "My husband said you had some 'choice words' regarding him and myself, may I ask what you said?"

Aegon set his cup down, finally looking at you fully. "I was drunk and said some things I should not have said; that is all that happened between him and me." He confessed, and you knew he was only speaking half of the truth, the half you already knew.

"Really? Is that all? Then why have you isolated yourself to your room then?" You pried, determined to get to the bottom of the issue. "What did you say, Aegon?"

Your uncle looked away, refusing to meet your gaze and you two fell into silence for a long moment, the prince trying to decide what he would say. "Do you ever know what our lives would be like if we had been wed to each other? If all the pleading we had done hadn't fallen on the deaf ears of our mothers?" He turned his head back up, looking at you with eyes swirling deep with conflicted emotion.

"Of course I do, Aegon." You answered simply, taking a deep breath. "But fate had other plans for us all, and we must adapt to it. Duty is scarcely something we desire." You felt your heart ache at your admission, the cruel reality of your situation sinking in once more after you'd spent years trying to bury how it made you feel.

"What do you desire?" He took your hand in his, squeezing it gently before he continued. "Are you happy with Aemond? Do you want to be with him? Has your heart begun to yearn for my brother after all these years with him?" Aegon awaited your answer, every second of your silence felt like a lifetime.

"It does not matter what I desire," You finally spoke, removing your hand from his. "I must fulfill my duty as—"

"Fuck duty." He interrupted, tone laced with bitterness. "I asked what you wanted, not what you must." He grabbed his wine, taking a long drink of it before speaking again. "I told Aemond that he didn't deserve you. That's why we argued, sweetling." The last word, filled with hate as it left his lips, felt like a sharp dagger to the chest. "My brother doesn't love you as I do, doesn't understand how much it infuriates me to hear the talk of him neglecting you while claiming to cherish you, his darling wife." Aegon's grip on his cup tightened, fingers digging into the metal.

You stood from your seat, making your way towards the door. "I think you're drunk again, Aegon. I'll see you once you've sobered up and stopped talking nonsense." Before you could leave he stood up quickly, grabbing your arm and pulling you back, flipping you around to face him. Your eyes widened as you stared back at him, and your mouth opened to scold him for what he just did.

Before you could take the chance to speak, he kissed you, lips moving with fervor against yours as he poured every emotion he ever felt for you into it. You hesitated before kissing back, melting into his touch as you relaxed, your hands resting on his shoulders as he pulled you closer, arms wrapping around your waist. It was wrong, you knew it, but emotion overpowered logic as you gave into him, tasting the fruity, almost sweet taste of wine on his lips as he kissed you.

"Aegon," You breathed out once you separated, your heart racing in your chest as you stared into his Indigo eyes filled with love and affection only he had ever shown you. You hadn't kissed him since before his wedding to Helaena so many years ago, and doing it once more after so long brought every feeling you had suppressed for him back to the surface.

"I need you to know that I'm not drunk when I say this." He paused, tenderly cupping your face in his hands. "I love you. With every part of my being. I swear it by the Gods." He leaned in further, your lips nearly touching again. "You may be Aemond's by law, but you are mine. We both know it, and we've gone too long denying it. What's stopping us from loving one another behind closed doors? What the rest of our family doesn't know will bring no harm."

You took a shaky breath at the proposition. It was a risky one should you follow through with it, but the risk made it all the more exciting to think about. Being able to be with the one you loved after so long would be worth the sneaking around, the guilt, and the shame.

"I'd kill for you, man or woman. I'd burn our house to the ground, burn the Seven Kingdoms to ash if it meant I'd be with you at the end of it all." His lips pressed against yours once more in another passion-filled kiss. You wanted him, needed him. No man had touched you in so long, not your husband, and not Aegon; you craved more of it, hungered for it like a starved animal staring at its first meal in ages.

You kissed him back with equal desire, moaning against his lips as you led him towards his bed, carefully pushing him down onto the mattress below. You straddled him, pressing up against the growing budget in his breeches as he held your hips, looking up at you with uncertainty, a rare state to see the prince in when with women.

"What's wrong, Aegon? You've bedded many women before. Don't tell me you've grown scared of them now." You teased, hands running over the expensive fabric of his dark forest green tunic.

"I've bedded whores, not the noble lady who I've loved since childhood." He corrected, letting you slip off his shirt and throw it to the stone ground below, leaving his chest bare and free for you to see and drink in the sight of. "Is it so wrong of me to wish to please you properly?"

You chuckled lightly at his words. "You're already doing better than Aemond by spending this time with me. My husband rarely has me in such a position." It was Aegon's turn to chuckle, slipping your gown off your shoulders as he did so. He watched your breasts spill out of your dress, cock hardening even further at the beautiful sight

"Gods, your beauty is unmatched." His hand found your soft breast, kneading it as you moaned lewdly, the sound like music to his ears. "Do you know how long I've yearned to hear those sounds come from you? How many nights I had spent wishing you were the one with me instead of some whore?" He pressed open-mouthed kisses to the soft skin of your chest, savoring each and every noise that escaped you.

You helped him remove your gown fully, leaving your fully nude figure on full display to your lover. He drank in the sight, the look of you being more fulfilling and delicious than any other person or thing he had ever experienced. You weren't from a brothel, nor were you Helaena or any other woman who had ever been with. You were his first and only love, and here you were in front of him, letting him do to you what he had always desired.

"You're staring, Aegon." You observed, your voice low and sultry, utterly intoxicating.

"What man wouldn't when faced with such a pretty thing?" His hands roamed your body as he smirked.

You pulled off his breeches, letting his cock spring out, the tip already leaking small translucent pearls of precum from the excitement of it all. You bit your lip as you realized how big he was. You'd struggle to take him. You stroked him slowly, bringing your hand up and down his thick length. Aegon watched through half-lidded violet eyes as you touched him, a groan of your name leaving his lips. Then you placed his cock, hard and ready, at your entrance, sinking down onto it, struggling to hold back a loud moan as you did so.

"I've wanted this for so long. I've wanted you." Aegon's hands grabbed at your hips as you began to bring yourself up and down, riding his cock. You felt like no other woman he had ever been with; to him, you were perfection. For the first time in his life he was overwhelmed by sex, the emotions he held for you combined with the feeling of the velvety walls of your cunt wrapped around him combined in a way that had his head blissfully empty except for the thought of you.

"Kiss me." The words sounded more desperate than he intended, but that's what he was: desperate. The prince had never been one to kiss when he did these things, but he had gone years without you, and he'd be damned if he didn't take all you had to offer, savoring it as he did.

You listened to him, leaning down, your body pressing up against his as your lips moved together sloppily. Aegon gripped your hips tighter, beginning to thrust his own upwards, driving his cock deep into you. You whimpered against his lips, trying to meet his movements with yours to get more of him.

"You're going to make me cum." Aegon announced through his groans, unable to last long with how well you were taking him. "I'm going to fill you up, little dove. You want that, don't you? I'll make you mine." You let out a mix between a moan and a whine as his thrusts up into you grew rougher, the sounds of your shared pleasure filling the otherwise quiet room. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, mouth wide open as you failed to do much else other than let him fuck you.

"Fuck! Aegon!" You managed to get out as the tip of his cock grazed your sweet spot, pushing you closer to your impending climax. All it took was one more touch of that same spot, more head-on this time, for you to cum around him, your cunt fluttering with the force of your orgasm. He followed soon after, losing his rhythm before his hips stilled, warm cum coating your insides and spilling out down your thighs.

You slumped over, breathing heavily as you lay next to him, placing your head on his chest as your post-orgasmic haze set it. His fingers combed through your hair, deep violet eyes closing as his lips curled up into a satisfied smile; the silver-haired man being pleasantly exhausted.

"I love you." You spoke softly, breaking the silence. "They say love is where duty ends, Aegon." The prince tucked a stray lock of your hair behind your ear before caressing your cheek.

"That's because love feels a lot better, sweetling. We all indulge despite what's expected of us. Tonight we chose to indulge in each other," he leaned in, a sweet kiss soon finding its way to you. "It's wrong, isn't it? What we've done here. I don't care how wrong things may be, not when you're next to me, warming my bed." He moved on top of you, being to press chaste, loving kisses to your neck. You smiled tiredly, wrapping your arms around him, enjoying the warmth he radiated.

No one would keep you from him, not after tonight. You'd both have to return to your spouses eventually when duty overpowered love, but for now, you were each other's.

When what was expected of you did make its call you separated from Aegon, bathing away the remnants of your night together before leaving his chambers, thankful that the servants who fetched the water didn't pry further. Later on, you found yourself in the library, pretending to read a book while you reminisced about that first kiss with Aegon that started it all between you and him. The sound of shoes stepping against the hard floor drew you out of your thoughts, and you looked up toward the source, finding it to be your mother.

"We need to talk," Rhaenyra said with concern in her voice, making her way to you quickly, a small cup held carefully in her hands. She sat beside you, handing you the cup. You took it, a confused look on your face.

"What's this?" You asked, looking down at the currently unidentified liquid that smelled of tansy and sweet honey.

"I don't know what you've done, what risks you've already taken, but rumors have spread of your infidelity." Your mother explained. "I do not wish to interrogate you, but I have a feeling I already know who it is whom you've spent your time with, and knowing who he is, I know these words are likely more than just gossip spread by those wishing to sully your name."

Your heart sunk at her words, and it was then that you knew what she had handed you. It was moon tea, that's why it smelled of tansy. "Mother, I'm—" She stopped you, placing her hands onto yours, comforting you.

"I know what it's like to choose love over all else, and the dangers which come. You mentioned in passing a few days ago how Aemond hadn't touched you in a long while. He's no fool. He'll know if you fall pregnant that the child isn't his, and I fear what he may do once that realization comes.

You took a deep breath, bringing the cup up to your lips and taking a sip, the taste both bitter and sweet as it reached your tongue. Your mother understood like no other could.

"It is just a precaution, sweet girl. I trust you to be cautious from now on. Duty ends where love starts." She stood up, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You needed your mother in this moment, and here she was. She was right. Duty ends where love starts. That phrase would become your mantra.

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xoxochb · 3 months ago

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Could you maybe do more Percy Jackson fluff, I love your writing and I feel like you would do cute fluff really well 🫶🫶

my beloved fluff :(

——— ౨ৎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

“I thought you only bent over for me.”

in half surprise-half anger you turn around, dropping the pile of clothes into your arms onto the dryer for the time being.

“perseus,” you sigh and cross your arms. “must you make a crude joke every time I doing something simple?”

“excuseee me for thinking my wife is sexy.”

you shake your head slowly and turn back around, taking the clothes again and putting them into the dryer, taking two dryer sheets and throwing them into along with the clothing before shutting the dryer door and turning the dial, pressing the button to start the machine.

you shut off the light to the laundry room and brush past percy who leans against the doorway, though moves from his spot and begins to follow you like a lost puppy.

“where are we going?”

“I am going to our bedroom to finish my coffee and hopefully read my book in silence for a bit.”

percy eventually catches up to you, grabbing your hand delicately as you walk up the stairs, his free hand hitting your rear lightly. with that you break free from his hold and quickly walk up the rest of the way, leaving your husband at the bottom of the stairs.

when you finally make it to your bedroom you curl yourself under the covers of your bed, taking your book from the side and opening it to the page you were previously on, and grabbing your coffee from the bedside table, placing it atop your tummy.

soon enough, percy enters the room, flopping down dramatically beside you, laying on his side to be facing you.

“you were serious,” he points out. “can I have a sip?”

too caught up in your book, you absentmindedly hand him your mug. he gratefully takes the cup from your hands and takes a slow sip before placing it on the bedside table on his side of the bed. he’s swift in returning to his previous position, this time taking your hand closest to his into his own hand.

“percy,” you singsong. “what’re ya doin’ with my hand, angel?”

“nothin’, sweet girl, just keep readin’ ‘n be your pretty self.”

you roll your eyes with a faint smile. nonetheless, you don’t argue and continue reading your book. though when his lips begin trailing over your fingers it’s a tad difficult to do that. they reach your fingertips, knuckles, palm, then go back up to linger over your wedding ring before removing his mouth and running his thumb over it, twisting it on your finger.

after this, his lips trail down to the inside of your wrist, and continuing their way up your arm, eliciting soft giggles from your sweet lips. percy enjoys that very much. he goes on with this until he reaches your shoulder, running over the strap of your lacy tank, then your clavicle, stopping there to simply rest his head atop your shoulder contently.

“I think I like ya better when you’re content.”

“wow. what a wife you are.”

“I know.” you turn the page of your book.

percy sighs into your skin, thinking of a way to get back at you for your comment.

“may I remind you of this last week you refused to let me sleep in the same bed as you because my hand accidentally slipped under your shorts?”

“for the thousandth time— you did that on purpose!”

#xoxochb #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo series #pjo fandom #percy jackson #pjo #percy series #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson x you #riordanverse x reader #riordanverse #riordan universe

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grapejuicenharry · 3 months ago

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HI, could you write a blurb where Harry is a rich businessman and he is really busy with his work etc etc and is really stressed with something so yn goes to him and gives him a blowjob so that he feels good. Something like that?

a/n: sorry it took me a while! but i hope u enjoy it <33

warnings: blowjob, smut, 18+, kissing.

✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆ . ✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶. ⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶ ⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶

It was that time of the month again, the most stressful time for Harry. Mid-November had arrived, and with it, an overwhelming workload. He'd recently fired a few employees, which only added to his responsibilities. Between catching up on finances, preparing presentations, and attending client meetings, the pressure was taking a toll on his health. The air outside was chilly, snow was starting to form, and Harry, running on low energy, desperately needed rest.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Harry was the CEO of a multimillion-dollar company, just at the age of 28, he had his name appearing in Forbes several times. He owned homes in London, Los Angeles, Italy, and New York. But after getting married, he and Y/N chose to live in a luxurious penthouse—Y/N loved the city life and feeling like a spoiled kitten.

They first met at a business conference, where Y/N was there with her clients, managing a project. The moment Harry laid his eyes on her, he felt a connection. He instantly knew she was the one he wanted as a life partner, the mother of his children.

After their wedding, Y/N decided to leave her job. The constant stress and long hours had been wearing her down. Harry supported her choice completely, happy to see her take a break and enjoy life. Now she could relax at home, focus on their relationship, and indulge in the luxury that Harry’s success provided.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Throughout it all, Y/N had been his rock. She supported him at every turn, stepping in whenever he was overwhelmed. She made sure he was taken care of—preparing healthy soups, ensuring he took his medicines on time, and giving him massages whenever his body felt sore and achy. She understood when he was too drained to talk or spend time with her, simply letting him rest his head in her lap, where she would gently scratch his scalp until he fell asleep.

Despite his gratefulness, Harry couldn't help but feel guilty. He knew he wasn't spending enough time with Y/N. There were days when they barely exchanged a word, and even when she asked if he was okay, all he could muster was a tired nod. He tried-he really did— setting aside at least an hour from his hectic schedule to be with her, but his heavy eyelids, sunken eyes, and pounding headaches often got the better of him. Still, he knew Y/N understood; she stayed by his side, making sure he didn't collapse under the weight of his responsibilities. He felt blessed to have her as his wife.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Today, Harry was working from home. He had been in online meetings since seven in the morning, and it was now eleven. Y/N had brought him coffee and breakfast earlier, giving him a quick peck on the cheek, like the good wife she was. But after five straight hours of him being hold up in his study, she decided he needed to take a break. He needed to rest, and she had an idea she'd been wanting to try for a while.

Entering the room quietly, she was dressed in one of Harry's old T-shirts that said safe sex and a pair of tiny shorts. Her sock-clad feet tapped softly against the hardwood floor as she approached. Harry's eyes were glued to his laptop, his hair messy atop his head, glasses slipping down his nose, like he hasn’t gotten the time to push them. Hearing her, he looked up, a tired but soft smile curving his lips. "Hi, baby," he greeted.

Y/N felt a flutter of excitement at his gentle tone. His voice never fails to excite her. She circled around the table and settled onto his lap. "Hi," she whispered, wrapping her arms around him and inhaling his scent. "I miss you."

"Mmm," Harry hummed as she threaded her fingers through his hair, the gesture immediately easing some of the tension in his head. She pulled back slightly, adjusting his glasses and gazing into his tired eyes.

"You need a break, Harry. You've been working non-stop for hours. You deserve to relax," she insisted, ending her words with a kiss near the corner of his lips.

Harry's smile widened in amusement. He knew she was right—his body was sore from sitting in one place all morning. "And how do I relax, baby?" he asked, lacing their fingers together and kissing her knuckles. "Are you here to help me unwind?"

"Y-yes," she whispered, surprised he didn't need convincing. Her confidence wavered for a moment, but she pushed her nerves aside, determined to follow through with her plan. "Let me help you relax, Harry. I want to."

She leaned in and pressed her lips to his jaw, trailing wet kisses down his neck, nibbling his earlobe—a spot she knew he loved. Harry's head tipped back slightly, giving her better access, his eyes fluttering shut. Her nails lightly grazed his toned abs under his shirt, making him shiver. "Fuck," he muttered, voice low.

He pulled her close and kissed her deeply;the kiss was a heated mess of tongues, teeth, and moans. His hand slipped under the hem of her shirt to get rid of it—but she pulled back with a teasing shake of her head. Sliding off his lap, she kneeled before him, his eyes widening as he realized what she had in mind.

"What are you doing, baby?" he asked, his thumb brushing her lower lip.

"Helping you relax," she whispered, parting her lips and taking his thumb into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked, his voice husky. "Yes, I'm sure.” that all the encouragement he needed. He withdrew his thumb, smirking.

"Filthy girl, my filthy girl," he murmured while shaking his head, his words sending a jolt of arousal straight to her core. "This was just an excuse, wasn't it? You just wanted my cock in your mouth."

A whimper escaped her lips at his words, her panties already damp with arousal. "Take me out," he ordered. Without hesitation, she fumbled with his shorts, pulling down the zipper and freeing his hard length. She swipes her thumb on his tip, and licking it off, Harry’s eyes darken with lust, eager to see what she does next.

Y/N licked a slow, deliberate path from the base to the tip. She kissed the tip before taking it into her mouth, sucking it gently. She starts prepping kisses along the length before taking it in her mouth. "Fuck, baby. Just like that," Harry groaned, his head falling back as he tangled his hand in her hair, gathering it into a makeshift ponytail without pushing her down, letting her set the pace.

"My good girl," He breathes out praise, encouraging her, while running his hand through her hair. In response, she moans out, the vibrations bringing him close, making him grip her hair tighter. The praises made her pussy clenching around nothing. Her own arousal pooled between her thighs, and she squeezed her legs together in a desperate attempt to relieve some pressure.

She popped his cock out of her mouth briefly, taking a deep breath before returning to him, this time taking one of his balls into her mouth, licking and sucking gently. Harry's hips bucked involuntarily, hitting the back of her throat. "Sorry," he panted.

"Don't hold back. Fuck my mouth," she whispered, looking up at him with wide, eager eyes.

Harry smirked, "Yeah? You think you can handle it, baby?"

She nodded, unable to respond with her mouth full. That was all the confirmation he needed. He gripped her hair and began thrusting gently, fucking her face at a steady pace. Y/N focused on breathing through her nose, taking him deeper in her throat, her hands stroking what she couldn't fit into her mouth. His breathing grew heavier, moans escaping his lips. Y/N knew he was close, so she starts fondling with his balls, squeezing them in her palm. The sound of his moans and her gagging filled the study. Y/N, thank heavens the housekeepers went off early today.

"I'm gonna cum, baby." he warned, his thrusts growing sloppy.

"Cum," she urged, her voice muffled. With a groan, he released into her mouth, “Y/N,Y/N—fuck, so good, so good baby.” He pants with a loud cry. warm spurts filling her. She keeps sucking him until he's completely dry, making sure to take every drop. She swallows without hesitation, the familiar salty taste not bothering her at all. His eyes softened as he looked down at her, her teary eyes, lips glistening with him. He wiped the drool from her chin.

"Are you relaxed now?" she asked with a small smile.

Harry chuckled, pulling her up onto his lap. He kissed her deeply, tasting himself on her lips. "So relaxed," he murmured, pecking her lips again. "So relaxed."

They both laughed, his silliness lightening the room's heavy air.

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ────

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felicity-worthington · 3 months ago

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Why is “Doctor Odyssey” a television show that very cleverly shows the depth of the human condition?

So, I have seen some people say that Doctor Odyssey is fun (especially because of Ody3) but also just a superficial show with no plot and I have to politely disagree. I think this show is the opposite, it's just supposed to look silly and superficial at first glance, as you can see when they repeat the phrase "we constructed a paradise" in the weekly recaps.

It is supposed to look like that, it is the idea of a cruise itself, for a week you escape the real world, you enter a new constructed one, which is supposed to be paradise without problems. But here's the thing, here is why there's a doctor and two nurses on this ship: it's just an idea, it's not real.

We especially see this in the episodes "I Always Cry at Weddings" and "Quackers" and of course in the main storyline of Max, Tristan and Avery navigating their relationship and their constant struggle with what they really want in life.

Let's start with "I always cry at weddings" to deconstruct the idea of superficiality with the weekly funny themes and the show only being silly because it's quite obvious here I think. I mean, a man commits suicide in this episode because he's deeply conflicted about what he really wants out of life and how he thinks there is an incurable darkness within him. And we see him, his bride and his best man as an example of how this construction, this idea of heteronormative happiness is just that for a lot of people: just an idea that doesn't guarantee you happiness, but actually destroys lives (not everyone's, of course). And we start this episode superficially, with a couple about to get married on a cruise, the perfect wedding in perfect paradise. But as the episode progresses, we see the cracks and then it gets very real. The scenes with the groom breaking down in the infirmary, the bride talking to Avery and Max after the suicide and her mother's confession are all absolute tearjerkers in the best way. I mean, watch that scene and then tell me again that this show is just a silly Riverdale for adults:

This is actually one of my favorite scenes of the show because the delivery of the line "we need to help this boy" is just perfect, the actress did an amazing job. Also, the character herself says "she pretended her fears away", which underlines the show's idea that this is a paradise where people should just forget their worries, but actually real life catches up with you no matter where you are, you cannot hide from it.

The other example I was thinking of is the latest episode with the Quackers community, which is super silly in a lot of ways and I love that, don't get me wrong.

And then you have this older couple, the leaders (?) of this community, who seem extremely superficial and silly, I mean, going on cruises to go on a quack treasure hunt? So silly. BUT then the cracks start to show again as one of them, the husband (I don't know what his name was, so I'll just call him the husband and her the wife), shows a serious condition, the compulsive urge to swallow objects. When confronted, the wife literally denies it, unable to face the ugly truth. In her world everything is perfect, she and her husband are on a never-ending treasure hunt on paradise cruises, and when something real, something problematic threatens that, she can't accept it at first. And we see that again later in the episode when she refuses to leave the ship:

She wants to stay in paradise, in denial, on the surface. But that's not possible, you can't ignore real life:

But this is her and her husband's dream, an endless paradise in search of ducks, and it's hard to let go and take a deeper look at life and accept that floating through life is a nice idea and might work for a while, but it can't go on forever:

regarding her husbands condition:

Once again the theme of what we want (superficial) and what is really going on (what is behind the construction of paradise) is mentioned.

All of this, and all of the recurring themes I mentioned, are also at play with the three main characters and their constant struggle with what they really want out of life. In a way, their calling to help people is fulfilled by their professions, but then they keep asking themselves, "Is this enough? Is this what I really want out of life, taking one cruise after another?

The theme of constructed ideas versus what is actually going on is also seen in their throuple situation. Max and Tristan have probably always seen themselves as straight, and now they are getting a deeper look at who they are and what they really want out of life. And that is scary, and it often takes years to deconstruct habits and self-image.

But there is no unnecessary weird teenage drama in this show, it is very real. It is supposed to look superficial, you only have to look a little closer to see that it is not.

So once you deconstruct the idea that this is all superficial, you will see that yes, it is silly, so is life and we need those silly and funny moments in life and in this show, but it is also very, very deeply human in many tragic but also good ways.

#doctor odyssey #long post #ody3 #max x avery x tristan #max bankmann #avery morgan #tristan silva #I don't even know if I got everything I wanted to say right and if I got my message across

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maybankswhore · 9 months ago

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Maybe jj and and high school sweetheart wife

jj would definitely be the kind’ve guy that settles down early on in life & would not gaf.

you and jj would meet in your sophmore year of high school.

at first jj was a total player. he was known as the guy who got around , & only called the ‘bad boy’ because he just didn’t care about rules and smoked weed.

charming as always , though , when you and him are partnered for a random first week of school project — he’s immediately obsessed with you.

he thinks you’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen and he has to have you.

you make him work for it , though.

and he loves that you do.

when he finally gets to call you his girlfriend — he flips the script.

everyone’s shocked at how easy he settled down for you.

they’re even more shocked when the two of you are still together by graduation.

you guys became the most adored couple at kildare.

after high school things get a little difficult because you two are going into adulthood and try figuring things out.

you break up a couple times but it only last about a week before jj is back at your apartment apologizing even if it isn’t his fault because he knows you’re it for him.

a couple years after high school ends and you’re both entering your mid-twenties , he proposes.

it’s a super simple , romantic wedding with your closest friends and jj literally can’t stop crying.

his vows? like poetry.

he’s been working on those since junior year of highschool because he knew he’d end up marrying you.

jj would be so soft with you.

he brags to everyone he meets that two of you are high school sweethearts.

“yeah— me and my wife met back in high school and have been together ever since. crazy , right? isn’t that amazing? she’s amazing.”

“i got so lucky to have the most beautiful girl in the world.”

he thinks it’s so special the two of you grew from teenagers together to adults.

“i know her way back when she had braces and colored her hair when she cried. watched her go from my girl , to my woman. my wife.”

cries when he listens to “margaret” by lana del rey for the first time because it makes him think of you.

“that song is so fucking sick for making me feel this right now on a tuesday.”

jj makes sure to be the best partner and wants to have the family he didn’t get when he was younger.

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #outer banks imagines #outer banks #rafe cameron blurb #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank headcanons #jj maybank asks #obx jj #jj obx #jj outer banks #jj x y/n #jj maybank x you

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months ago

Text

Family Matters

Inspired by this post; in the same universe as this

Warnings: non/dubcon, cheating, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Thor Odinson

Summary: your new husband's brother surprises you with a visit.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The doorbell rings again and you barrel so quickly down the stairs, you nearly topple off the bottom step. You catch your breath and grab the post at the bottom of the banister to steady yourself. It’s a splendid house but you told Loki it’s too big for just the two of you. He didn’t like that so you didn’t mention it again, even though it feels empty with how much he’s not around.

You let those worries slake off of you and hurry to the door. It could be another surprise! Loki hates leaving you for so long so he tries to fill the void with gifts. Sometimes, they make you feel better, other times, you’re just sad. You’d rather have him there.

It’s not a courier but a familiar face. Your brother-in-law. It’s official as of one month ago. You’re family.

“Oh, hi,” you deflate, trying not to show your disappointment. You’re not upset it’s him, you just hate being the one to say, “Loki’s not in.”

Thor smiles. He’s rarely unhappy. “Ah, that’s unfortunate. Where is off to, then?”

“Work,” you grumble the repetitive explanation. “Important project or something.”

“Important enough to leave you alone?” He wonders.

“I... guess,” you try not to mope. Loki says it make you look childish.

“Well, I am much in the same boat. Alone,” he laughs hollowly.

“Oh, yes, I... how are you doing?” You ask. “I didn’t get a chance to thank you for coming to the wedding. Really, I know it must’ve been difficult.”

“I couldn’t miss my brother’s special day,” he shakes his head. “It was a day for love. Wasn’t your fault mine decided to leave...”

Your heart breaks for him. The day you were married, Frigga told you what happened. A hug fight right after your rehearsal dinner. Jane left before the morning. Despite all that, Thor didn’t show a hint of grief at the wedding.

“It’s too bad. I liked Jane.”

“Needless to say, I did too,” he smiles thinly. “Well, I hope I didn’t disturb you very much. I suppose I could come calling tomorrow and hope my brother isn’t too busy for the likes of me.”

Your heart rents for him. Here you are, a new marriage, a husband to long for, and he lost his girlfriend of five years. You don’t have much else going on, it would be nice to have someone there.

“Did you wanna hang around for a bit?” You ask. “Not much going on but... this place is eerie when you’re all alone.”

“Hm, did Loki say when he would return? Wouldn’t mind waiting around a bit,” he suggests.

“I hope soon but he didn’t say,” you shrug. “Yesterday he wasn’t home until midnight.”

“Midnight? He would make you wait so long? A lovely young wife like you?” He scoffs. “Well, that is just terrible. I will not commit the same crime as my brother. I’d love to come in.”

“Alright,” you smile. “I... we could put something on? I was going to watch the new season of the true crime show.”

“Ha,” he enters as you step back to let you through. “That wouldn’t help being alone, would it?”

“I guess not,” you giggle. “We could watch something else. A comedy. I’ve been rewatching Friends. For the hundredth time.”

“Whatever you like,” he slips his shoes off and puts them on the mat. “The only words a woman like you needs to hear, eh?”

You laugh again, “do you want snacks? I got some caramel corn and gummy bears.”

“My brother let you bring those in his house?” He wonders.

“It’s our house,” you face him with a pout as you stand in the broad archway to the front room.

“Yes, you are correct. My apologies,” he follows. “You know, he only hates those sugary treats because he is weak to them. Be sure to hide them well or you might find some missing.”

“No, he never wants any,” you continue into the front room.

“So he wants you to believe,” Thor counters.

“How about drinks? We got a bunch of wine from the wedding. Some scotch?”

“I only really indulge in lager and I'm not of the mood for it,” he assures. “I could help with the snacks.”

“No, no, sit,” you grab the remote and hold it out to him. “Find something to watch. I’m so indecisive I just flick through the menu for an hour.”

“I will do my best,” he accepts it. His hand dwarfs you own as his fingers brush across yours. Loki’s hands are long, but not as thick.

You push your shoulders up and spin around to flit off to the kitchen. You scurry away and slide into the kitchen. You go to the cupboard and take down the bag of caramel corn. You pour some in a bowl then grab the package of gummy bears and a box of cream cookies.

As you come back to the living room, Thor leans forward to set the down the remote. You put the treats on the glass table and sit on the other end of the couch. You only realise then how awkward it is. You’ve never really been alone with him.

“Thank you. So sweet of you to have me,” he says as he twines his fingers together. “I feel as if everyone has been avoiding me since Jane. I fear I might be a bit... melancholy.”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” you glance at the TV as it plays an intro to a show you don’t know, “well, how can anyone blame you? You’re going through so much.”

“I’m an adult, these things happen,” he says.

“Sure, they do, but I mean, it still hurts. It’s not easy,” you insist. “I can’t even imagine what you’re going through.”

“Ugh,” he puts his elbows on his legs and cradles his head. “I don’t mean to bring my dark cloud in here.” He rubs his temple. “Truly, I think I’ve been trying to outrun it but... what else can I think of with only an empty home to go to?”

“Oh, Thor,” you sidle closer on the cushions. You gently touch his arm. His bicep is a lot bigger against your hand. “It’s okay. You can’t hold it in forever. It's good to feel these things. Once you get through that, you can move on and I’m sure you’ll find the right one.”

He sniffles and you flinch. He quakes against your touch and your chest knots. You never imagined him crying. Especially not a man his size. You don’t know what else to do but comfort him. You rub his shoulder and he huddles over further and wipes his face.

His long blond locks conceal his tears as he mops his sadness away with his knuckles. You hum and get even closer, your hand trailing up his back.

“Thor, I'm sorry. It feels so cruel, I know. Especially the timing of it--”

He startles you as he leans against you. You let out an ‘oop’ as he turns to embrace you, curling his shoulders and hunching to put his head on your shoulder. You have no choice but to let him.

“Oh, it’s been awful,” he snivels. “I’ve been so lonely.”

“Shhh, let it out, that’s okay,” you rub his back and stare at the wall. You certainly didn’t expect the night to go like this.

He holds you tight as he cries against you, his body heaving. You know Loki isn’t the best for these sorts of things so you’re happy at least he trusts you enough to listen. That’s about as much as you can do.

“You won’t believe how cruel she was,” Thor rasps. “She just yelled and yelled. She shoved me and—she just kept accusing me.”

“Accusing you? Of what?”

He’s quiet for a moment. He lifts his head to look at you, his arm across your back. “Of wanting another.”

“Oh?” You blink in surprise.

“I told her no, no, I did not, but she kept saying “I see it! I see it in your face!” And I swore to her, no, no,” He wipes his face with his other hand, “but now I’m afraid she might have been right.”

“She... who?” You frown.

His arm wraps around you, his fingers dipping into your side and in a moment, the couch shifts beneath you. You cannot resist as surprise paralyses you. Thor lifts you easily onto his lap, turning you and sliding you to sit on his thighs.

“Woah, uh, whaat--” You press your hand to his chest. “Please, Thor, you’re emotional--”

“She was right, kitten, you are so soft, so gentle, and I could not look away. She caught me--”

“No, no, you can’t-- Loki--”

“Loki leaves you alone. He would rather work than stay and adore his precious wife,” He cups your chin and forces you to look at him. “He would abandon you...” he leans in as his eyes fall to your lips, “and leave you unkissed.”

You try to pull back but you’re trapped in his embrace. He squeezes you close and crushes his lips to yours. You squeal and struggle against him, finally turning your head so his mouth smears across your cheek.

“Untouched,” his hand trails down your neck and you clasp onto two of his fingers, straining to keep him from going lower. “Unloved--”

“Thor, stop, let me go--”

He leans over so your back is on the cushion, his arm beneath you as your legs are folded up over his. He is on his side next to you. His large hand comes back to frame your face and he squeezes to keep you from squirming. You tug as his shirt and whine.

“Thor, please, stop. We can forget--”

“I can’t forget,” he growls and nuzzles your nose. You whimper and push against his chest again. He is stone, he is unmoving, and you know you cannot stop him. “I will never forget how you feel against me, kitten.”

#thor #dark thor #dark!thor #thor x reader #one shot #drabble #au #marvel #mcu #avengers

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melancholicstation · 2 months ago

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𓊆ྀི󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠 ARCHITECTURAL DIGEST: OPEN DOOR! - a jack schlossberg one-shot. 𓊇ྀི

summary: your open door architectural digest interview with your husband jack schlossberg takes an unexpected, and downright sensual turn in your shared kitchen over the most innocuous citrus fruit. note: this is part of the husband!jack schlossberg universe, here are other works with wife!reader and husband!jack: like an american, husband!jack hc's, and comfort husband!jack hc's

warnings: orgasm denial (male), cunnilingus, smut, 18+

words: 1,830

"Hi AD, We're Jack and Y/n, welcome to our house"

Filming for Architectural Digest, as glamorous as it might look from the illustrious glow of a MacBook screen, was not all it cracked up to be. AD had been relentless in their pursuit, contacting both you and jack's agents on more than one occasion proposing the opportunity for you guys as a couple to be featured on their open door celebrity series.

Initially as a couple you had turned the opportunity down, with Jack working tirelessly on the campaign and you being busy with negotiations on your new book deal: it just wouldn't have worked. But after your wedding, which was featured in Vogue, the title "The Bride Wore Vintage John Galliano And The Groom Wore JW Anderson. Inside Their Cape Cod Ceremony" The open door offer came around once again and it came at just the perfect time.

A few weeks back you and Jack had been getting back into the grove of normal life after returning from an illustrious three week honeymoon in the Greek Cyclades: a honeymoon spent in mostly nothing—bar itty-bitty specs of linen as makeshift bikini's, and gucci by tom ford beachwear.

Getting back to AD, you'd woken up before Jack: which was funny because when you first entered the relationship Jack was always the one who got up early, maybe you've been a bit of a bad influence in that department. Nevertheless you spend about five to ten minutes neglecting to wake Jack up: instead opting to trace the sepia hairs littering the top of his neck while quietly leering at his chest hair—looking like an absolute creep, but I mean, he was your husband after all so—that's gotta minus at least 15% of the pervy factor, right?

When he did wake up—and subsequently clocked your staring contest with his chest, he proceeded to lean over like a total and utter drama queen to piously cover himself with the sheets like a 30s model getting a tasteful nude portrait of herself to give to a lover.

You neglected to do any makeup only choosing to smear some P50 lotion on you and Jack's face—you swore he was like a toddler sometimes always wanting to mirror whatever weird shit you put on your face. Once the hair, makeup, and stylist team for AD got there you and Jack were effectively separated for the next few hours, which you did not hear the end of via jack's incessant complaints about the distance between him and you over iMessage and many, many unhinged gif selections sent to your iPhone.

But alas, you two were reunited for the open door interview and it started off generally normal...

First, you two were situated on the front steps of your townhouse and asked when and why you chose the house,

Jack started for you, "We moved here about five years ago, and it was the second house we both had looked at ever in our whole lives, and it so happens that it was the first house we ever bought as a couple"

"Seems clandestine to me", the interviewer cheerily replies to which you both glance at each other playfully while he speaks.

Taking the hint to speak up, you share what drew you to the home adding, "I love the city, but I also love wood and I love light and I love antiques, so I just fell in deep love with the place. For us it struck the perfect balance of being in the city while not feeling like the city was breathing down your back all the time, it can be hard to find a place like that here."

Making your way into the apartment, you and Jack were told to take a short break for about 2 minutes while the videographer got a good layout of the place, and scoped out the best lighting angles to capture it.

Your home occupies the first floor of a Meatpacking District block, and is a few blocks away from the Hudson River—which more than encourages your Husband's borderline addiction to paddle boarding. But, hey you routinely get to see your man walking home in an ultra-tight swimsuit sopping wet, so who were you really to complain about such things?

Despite loving the city, you found yourself devoted to the charm of those old French farmhouse interior's that you'd looked at in your mom's old magazines. And it felt particularly poignant to you guys as a couple—being that your first couple of dates were in the south of France.

You and Jack didn't want the space to come off as just another midcentury modern sterile, ultra-functional flat. So, you opted for sheetrock to be removed from the walls and ordered a large pair of antique door double doors for the living space off 1stdibs.

Just as abruptly as the break had started, it subsequently finished and the cameras began rolling once again. The interview dragged on until you two had finally gotten to the kitchen which was the last room and the last portion of interview.

You started the space off absolutely waxing poetic about the olive-coloured room,

"This is our little kitchen, we painted it horribly together. And then needed to implore a professional painter to fix our many, many painting faux pas." you take a breath to giggle slightly with Jack at your shared delusional confidence that you could paint a whole room successfully.

It was then Jack's time to pitch in, while the camera man did a slow zoom across the decor littering the marbled countertops—causing you and Jack to both notice a certain stone bowl containing a citrus fruit that you know for certain neither of you put there before AD came. Weird you thought, you weren't notified that set-dressing came with the interview.

Leaning on the counter Jack laments, "I love baking, I cook a lot too. I love limes"—to which he dramatically takes a lime into his hands, spinning it between his large fingers, "They're great and I love them so much, and I like to present them like this in my house."

You try not to let the emotion of total bafflement present on camera at Jack straight up lying for the hell of it about the limes being an integral part of your shared household decor—he neglects to mention that they're set dressing and that he's moderately allergic to them.

Closing of the interview you fake lead the interviewer out of the house to close out the interview, only to let them back in seconds later. The interviewer, Mark, who seems to be a genuinely sweet guy thanks you and Jack for your time, informing you that the crew should be packed up in 10 minutes, and the camera guy only needs another 5 minutes to get b-roll footage.

Once all the pleasantries have been fulfilled you lead, or rather playfully drag Jack by his crisp collared Prada button-up into your kitchen.

"Jack, I mean seriously what the hell was that, truly? I know you know you're allergic."

"M'sorry it was just too good not to pass up! I mean what kind of weirdos just but a bowl of lemons out and nothing else? it's barbaric just from a feng-shui standpoint alone!"

"Godd you're such a weirdo. Come kiss me and make it quick so I can forgot that very fact, please" you beckon him to you, placing your chin on his chest with your hands on his chin. Which, by the way is blemish-less—god, you absolutely hated men sometimes.

"Oh come on! you only kiss me cause I'm a weirdo, let's be real." Jack chuckles yet fulfils your request. He kisses you like a man starved which was quite concerning since you had only parted from him today for two hours—absolute max.

The intimacy got more and more heated until well... maybe you currently had your loafer clad feet either side of jack's head while he ate his idea of a mid-afternoon desert.

The very motion of Jack placing the flat side of his tongue against your clit sent you into an absolute. fucking. meltdown. To the point where the moans you made no longer represented someone who was cognisant that they're were about fifteen people working for AD rooms away. You try to compose yourself, which provides a stark contrast to his relentless endeavour on your clit that seem to be ever increasing.

As if to praise your restraint of volume his thumb gently strokes the inside of your thigh—up and down... and up and down. Sensing your impending climax Jack speeds his motions and adds a digit that outright seems to antagonise you—almost trying to tease a mind-numbing orgasm from you. And because you're weak in the face of his machinations, you of course do.

On your come-down you notice a glaring visitor—a quite large bulge in his pants and decide to take pity on it and by looking at the saccharine, loopy look on his face, him as well.

But you wouldn't be yourself if you didn't make him work for it at least a bit.

Continuing your motions on his bulge: feeling it's twitches and reflexes as intimately as you feel him breath while sleeping on your chest at night—

That was until the door to the kitchen was knocked upon,

"Sorry to be a bother but could you guys get that bowl of limes?—the crew is absolutely swamped trying to pack up for the road."

It was at this point in your movements on his bulge that Jack was starting to get loud, a bit too loud for your current situation, so you did the one thing that could shut him up—bar actually suspending the current movements on his mound: but that wouldn't be half as much fun would it?

Quick thinking led you to quite forcefully shoving a medium sized un-cut lime into his mouth to drown out his moans: it sure as shit worked but his puppy dog-like eyes made you feel bad for your prior roughness—you settled on a quick caress of his hair as a pseudo apology.

"Oh of course it's no trouble at all, we'll go grab it now!"

Hearing the footsteps move further and further from the kitchen you glance at Jack: a pitiful, overstimulated sight really. But a sight you deeply enjoy no less.

Picking up the bowl of lemons you grab his hands, afixing each hand to a parallel side of the stone bowl,

"Why don't you go give them back that bowl of limes you love so much and then maybe we can get back to what we were doing?"

Overcome from the intense stimulation Jack nods, willing to do anything that brings him present relief,

"Good boy" you coy, swiping off your own juices from his mouth and chin, then finally taking the un-cut lime out of his mouth.

tags: @obsessedwithjohnjr @candyneckl6ce @rocker-chick-7 @ultr4v1ol3nt @violetharmonsfavgf @strip-weather-forecast @darcyspirits @fortheloveofjos @h-l-v-kennedy-blog @h-l-vlovesvintage @bluelancergirl @snowsgames @salvatoresablondie @dulcegal @kennedyism @bloxholden35 @kimcrystal123 @absurdlyvintage @jackiesgirl @chemicalw0rld @remotewatch @starsprangledgirl @strryhaze @beloved-angel

#12 days of melancholicstation #husband!jack #wife!reader #jack schlossberg fanfiction #jack schlossberg imagines #jack schlossberg imagine #jack schlossberg x reader #jack schlossberg x you #rpf #political rpf #kennedy fanfic #kennedy fanfiction #kennedy rpf #jack schlossberg rpf

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random-imagines-blog · 4 months ago

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Imagine giving Lestat your virginity on your wedding night.

NSFW Below Cut.

Lestat had promised that he would be turning you on your wedding night, but he wanted you to be pure, virginal, very human when he first took you as a wife. He was old fashioned about these kinda things sometimes - he could sleep with anyone, but he wanted to be your first, your only, and to feel that break when your hymen would be torn by him. He couldn’t deny the pleasure that he felt, once he took that initial thrust, the smell of your blood flooding through his senses as it caused you to get wetter. And as much as he wanted to continue, to show you what pleasure means, he could not resist moving down your body at lightning speed and licking up those few drops, mixed in with your natural nectar, a taste deliriously delicious. Gnawing at your inner thighs, he appreciated it while he could, because this was only going to happen the one time - this blood, this breaking - but he would be hearing those sweet noise again, he’d be tasting the sweet juiciness again, but it’ll be different because you’ll be like him - undead. His enjoyment of your warm flesh was not taken for granted, he knew he’d be remembering this for a long time. He let out a moan of your name before sliding up, licking the salty sweat from your naked body, trailing from mound, across your belly button, between your breasts, up towards your lips once more, where you didn’t protest the metallic taste of your blood on his breath. “Lestat,” You murmured into the kiss, your mind in a state of gratification as he made sure that nothing hurt, getting into your mind and overlapping all remnants of pain with pleasure. He entered you again, slowly, pushing every inch in, kissing your lips and your neck as your back arched underneath him, pushing you closer. “Ready for eternity?” He asked, his fangs protracting. “Yes,” You gasped, having never felt so eager for anything before in your life. Your heart was fluttering quickly with all of the anticipation, the longing, the love, the ecstasy. He took his sweet time in biting you while thrusting into you, going into a heat like a female cat, a frenzy, but making sure to pull himself back at the last minute, to smear his own blood against your mouth, encouraging you to drink, entering a new world of love and death at the same moment.

Requested by: Anonymous

#Lestat #Lestat x Reader #Lestat imagines #Interview with the Vampire #Interview with the Vampire imagines #x reader #imagines #request

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pandora-writes-one-piece · 3 months ago

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The Meet Cute - Law's Story - 17

Source for pic

The Great Pretender 17

Word Count: 5955

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Law is a soft dom; you have bratty tendencies (not all the time); voice kink; praise kink; cursing; very suggestive behaviour and innuendo from the start; sexual tension; teasing; so much flirting; romance; slow-burn; fluff; slight angst; mature audiences (though explicit NSFW moments will be properly tagged on the chapter); possessive Law; protective Law; soft Law; teasing Law; manipulative Doflamingo; inappropriate Doflamingo; fake relationship trope; only one-bed trope; reader has some anxiety issues; reader is a control freak and perfectionist; modern day AU; Mention of ex mentally abusive relationship;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Law (your father's doctor) start to build a flirty friendship because of your father’s procedure. So much so that when he’s invited to Baby 5’s wedding (his cousin), he asks you to be his date. His uncle Doflamingo - who is filthy rich - is very adamant on finding a suitable wife for him. Seeing as he wants to avoid that, he asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for the weekend.

Notes: One more chapter to go... gosh, I'm already feeling nostalgic... please enjoy this one (though it's angst most of the way through...) PS: Thank you @hopelesslover06 for suggesting this song! It fits perfectly!

You feel like crying. The tightness in your throat is suffocating, and the lump in it refuses to go down. Your eyes burn and itch, and you can barely stop the trembling of your lips.

But you'll be damned if you shed another tear near Ichiji.

How could you be so dumb? So naïve? Such an idiot! You should've known better than to try to be the bigger person. How could you have felt bad for someone who manipulated you so easily? He needed closure? He didn't deserve any!

Idiot!

You're almost baffled by your judgement of the situation! You can only think that you let it happen because you were feeling blissed out and happy after the love confession you and Law shared. To be truthful, closure wasn't just meant for him, but mostly for you. You needed to know you were finally rid of Ichiji. How stupid you were.

And now, as you ride home on the longest drive of your life - with Ichiji by your side - all you can think about is how your naïveté ruined the only good thing to happen to you in years.

The most beautiful thing, actually.

Have you lost Law for good? It pains you to simply consider that possibility, but how can you not? Doflamingo made it very clear you're not to speak with Law, or Doffy will ruin the clinic. You cannot imagine him making empty threats, and even so, you'd much rather not risk his wrath.

Though you can find a loophole…

If Law is the one to speak with you, then you're not breaking your promise, right?

Frantically searching through your purse, you try to find your phone, barely acknowledging Ichiji's quizzical looks. You're doing your best to ignore his presence, though he has tried to make small talk since you both entered the limo.

“Come on, where is it?” You mutter under your breath, taking out all the contents of the purse and placing them on the seat of the car. You and Law left your phones in the room before the wedding because it was a specific request by Baby 5. She wanted all the guests to be focused on the wedding instead of their devices. Doflamingo brought all your belongings to this car. It has to be in your purse.

“You won't find it, Doll.”

“Shut up.” You automatically reply before biting your lip. Silent treatment and consequent ignoring of one's presence imply that you don’t speak with him. So you shouldn't speak with him. Then again… “What do you mean?” You ask without looking him in the eyes.

“Donquixote confiscated your phone. No doubt to keep you from speaking with Trafalgar. Though I wouldn't put it past him to snoop on everything you have there.” His tone is amused, and that alone makes you seethe. It takes one manipulator to know another one.

“He won't be able to unlock it.” You say, shaking the remaining contents of your purse into your lap and coming out one phone short. “Shit!”

“Won't he?” Ichiji's dry chuckle has you grinding your teeth in no time, your pain momentarily forgotten and replaced by pure, unbridled anger. “Wasn't your tablet password-locked, too?”

Fuck.

“How—...” You don't even finish your sentence. You know how. And, once again, shame on you and your naïveté. You never changed passcodes since you broke up with Ichiji, and he knows them all. “I hate you so much, Ichiji.”

You can barely contain the pained sob that crawls up your throat, threatening to spill over and give voice to the grief filling your chest.

“It's alright, Doll. I deserve that hate.” Ichiji smirks.

“What do you have to gain by this? I don't get it. Was it just the satisfaction of seeing me suffer?” There goes your resolution about not crying in front of him.

Ichiji remains silent for so long that you think he's ignoring you. Your stifled sobs and the soft music from the radio are the only sounds that surround you.

Until he speaks. “You were mine first.” That has to be the most childish, selfish exclamation ever. Your scoff does nothing to stop his words, though. “And I'm not used to losing.”

“You're despicable.”

Stuffing all of your things back into your purse, you vow not to speak to Ichiji again. Maybe this time you'll learn your lesson.

-*-

“Come on, Law, are you sure that's what you saw?” Cora pats Law's back with fondness, trying to subtly put the whiskey bottle away from his reach because he's clearly had enough. “From what you told me just now, and I'm assuming you only skimmed the details, her past relationship with Ichiji was toxic, to say the least. Would she really get back with him?”

Law can't help but think that Cora does have a point. Law's witnessed you lose control and spiral because of Ichiji more times than he can count just this weekend. Why would you go back to him?

The kiss…

Was there really a kiss? Maybe not, but there was definitely an intimate hug. And then you left.

With him…

And that is something he cannot stomach. Not even with the help of whiskey or Cora's words. Something’s not adding up, and he's not sure what it is.

“I know what I saw.” Ichiji's hand on your lower back, both of you leaving. Without saying goodbye.

“Have you tried calling her? Listen to what she has to say?”

Law downs another glass of whiskey and steals the bottle back from Cora. “I don't want to listen.” But he does. And he did try to call you.

Straight to voicemail.

He won't try again. It's pretty clear now, no matter how much of what happened doesn't add up, you left without a word and don't want to be contacted. You weren't forced to leave, he saw you. You left of your own volition. And, damn it, if that doesn't hurt. Because both of you had just exchanged love confessions. It all felt so real.

And it's over. Just like that.

“I'm sure she has a good explanation, Law. Please be rational. Use your brain a bit instead of just your heart.” Cora's words are soft, but Law doesn't care for any of them.

“I can't be rational, Cora, when I feel completely out of control! How can I think straight when all I feel is pain?” Law gulps down whiskey straight from the bottle and gets up from the table. The venue is empty by now, as empty as his heart. Then he gets up on slightly wobbly feet, ignoring Cora’s help and nursing the bottle against his chest. “I'm going to bed. I'm fine!” He adds before Cora has a chance to say anything else.

But he's not fine. He's far from it, actually. And he's being completely honest. There's no way he can let his rational self take over when his emotional self is spiralling and hurting. He’s regressed back to the state he was in after Monet.

And he's not quite sure if this time he'll be able to get out at all.

-*-

It's nearly six in the morning when you arrive home. The sun is already peeking through the clouds, casting its orange glow on the fields you know so well.

Ichiji dozed off beside you, but thankfully, he stopped trying to make small talk with you around halfway through the ride. When you heard him snoring, you finally let yourself cry. Sleep eluded you all the way home and, despite feeling completely exhausted, you're not sure you'll ever be able to sleep again.

When the limo stops near your porch and the driver starts to unload your bags, Ichiji stirs awake, but you pay him no mind. Yet, while you're still grabbing your purse and the shoes you took off, he gets out of the limo and goes around to open the door for you, something he never did when you were together.

“You're home safe, Doll.” He says with a smile, and you simply grunt, getting up and swatting his extended hand away. When you look up the porch, Shanks is already there. A heavy frown on his lips as he stares at Ichiji and your - assuredly - tear-strained, swollen face. “Hello, Mr. Shanks.”

Ichiji waves and tries to place a hand on your lower back to lead you up the stairs. You flinch and squirm, your warning snarl turning into a sob without meaning to. “Stop. Touching. Me. You've done enough.”

“Alright, Vinsmoke, I'm gonna give you five seconds to get your ass back into the limo and disappear from my property before things start to get ugly.” Shanks bellows from the porch before starting to descend the steps, at the same time you're walking towards him. “One…”

“Doll…”

“Two…”

“I'm a phone call away.” Ichiji's carefree smirk still manages to send a wicked shiver down your spine.

“Three…”

“Get lost, Ichiji.” You drawl out, too tired to come up with a witty retort.

“Four… I'm not bluffing.”

“Fine.” Ichiji laughs and enters the limo without another look your way, though before closing the door, he still manages to add, “I still won. You might not be mine, but you're definitely not his.”

And before the limo reaches the gate, you're hugging yourself, ragged sobs leaving your lips in broken pants as your father rushes down the last steps to hold you against him in a one-armed embrace.

“Hey, hey, Bug, what's going on? What happened? Where's Law?” You bite down a desperate wail when your father mentions Law, but your shoulders keep shaking with sobs. He quickly realises something went wrong, but he doesn't pry, at least not yet. “Come inside, honey. There's coffee and some cake Makino made for me. It's your favourite.”

He tries, thinking it might help cheer you up. He's not wrong. A slice of your favourite cake and a mug of coffee might not even begin to heal your wounds or mend your soul, but it might patch you up just enough to pull yourself together for a few hours. So you follow Shanks inside, his arm steadying your wobbly steps.

You realise you should take a bath. You’re still wearing the bridesmaid dress, and your feet are dirty, you’re sweaty and tired and you’re pretty sure some hot water would feel like a balm to your broken heart. Yet you barely find the strength to sit down at the kitchen table while Shanks prepares a cup of coffee and some cake, let alone to take a shower.

Your father sits down in front of you. He’s silent, but his eyes carry all the unspoken questions he means to ask you, his worry evident in the way he absorbs every hiccup, every sob, every tremble of your hands. It’s clear he wants to comfort you, but he doesn’t quite know how to do it without prying.

“Want to tell me what happened?” He asks after you finish eating, his voice soft.

You don’t. You really don’t want to talk about it. But you also don’t want to worry your father more than you already have, so perhaps you should give him something.

A heavy sigh parts your lips before you begin your tale. “Law and I… we… we connected and… things were going great, until they weren’t…” Shaking your head, you give up on telling all the details, all the hurt and manipulations you’ve both suffered. It’s too much, and you just can’t go through it again.

Shanks gets enough of it to realise your heart is broken, whatever the reason may be, so he nods and reaches for your hand. “It’s okay, Bug. You don’t have to tell it all right now. Want to get some rest? You look… well… you look a bit…”

“I know. I’ll go up to my room, thanks, dad.” You know you look like crap. You’re not sure if you’ll be able to sleep, though. But it’s worth a shot.

-*-

You didn’t try to call him back. You didn’t try to reach out. You just… ghosted him.

When Law left the party, tipsy and broken-hearted, after being led to his room by a worried Cora - despite Law’s insistence that he could do it on his own - he didn’t realise that all your stuff was gone. He just realised how cold and lonely the room felt without your presence. How big the bed seemed, and how empty he was.

When he woke up this morning, though… it was like another knife was shoved into his already bleeding chest. You had not only left him without a word, you had planned it, since there was no way you could have packed that fast.

Were you playing him all night? All weekend? Why?

Law can’t grasp what your motivations are for this move. Why did you go back to a toxic relationship? To someone who hurt you so much and so permanently that they still triggered panic attacks.

It doesn’t make any sense.

But no matter how hard he tries to find reasons for your sudden disappearance, his hurt always takes over any rational thought. It’s the feeling of being betrayed, abandoned, and left behind that prevents him from coming to any rational conclusion.

Why?

He doesn’t know… he just knows he’s broken once again. He placed his trust, he laid down his love, and was, once more, deceived.

-*-

Days pass slowly. You barely sleep, barely eat, there’s not much that can motivate you. All you can think about is Law. How hurt and broken he must be feeling. You didn’t even have a chance to explain, so, obviously, he’s thinking the worst.

Your phone arrived in the mail one day after you did. Law’s contact was blocked, and there was a letter accompanying the device reminding you of the consequences of pursuing any contact with him.

Like you needed the reminder.

Doflamingo’s words still ring clearly in your head. There’s no way you’ll provoke his wrath, not when Law’s work is in jeopardy. You can’t risk it.

You try to distract yourself with work around the farm, and when your father sends you back into the house, claiming he doesn’t need any help, you start to rearrange the kitchen cabinets, organising everything, getting rid of old stuff, filling your mind with small, menial tasks to keep yourself busy instead of losing yourself in sorrow and pain.

It barely works.

It takes about a week before you crack a smile at something Shanks says. Well… it’s barely a smile, but it’s something other than the constant sad look you’ve now grown used to.

You share a bit more of what transpired with your father because you know he’s worried, but you leave out all the parts with Doflamingo and Ichiji. Leaving what really happened unsaid, minimising so much of your pain that, when you retell it like that, it almost seems like you’re overreacting.

Shanks doesn’t question anything, though. He just supports you.

-*-

Cora calls Law almost daily, checking in on him, making sure he’s eating and asking how he’s feeling. His uncle tries to lighten up the matter, but Law knows he’s terrified. He’s afraid Law will return to the broken shell of a man he was when Monet betrayed his trust. That’s why he keeps reaching out.

Law knows he won’t do that to Cora again. He’ll never shut him out because he knows how much that hurt him. But Law doubts he’ll ever be able to trust anyone again.

He’s returned to the clinic, and if at first his friends greet him with bright smiles and teasing questions, as soon as they sense the mood he’s in and how closed off he appears, all questions cease. They realise something went wrong, and they know better than to pry.

Law buries himself in work. He takes double shifts at the hospital, prolongs clinic hours. When he’s not seeing patients, he’s studying patient files or writing up essays, anything to keep his mind distracted and useful.

Anything else is too painful.

It all reminds him of you.

-*-

You’re not sure if you’ll ever feel whole again. Or happy, for that matter. Everything seems bleak, devoid of colour, empty… You try to make an effort to smile more often, if only for your father’s benefit, but it all feels fake…

Though you’ve managed to limit your crying fits to bedtime only.

That is, until you receive a package in the mail. It’s a thin envelope addressed to you, and for a brief moment, you fear that it might come from Doflamingo. Another bunch of threats or something else to remind you to stay away from Law.

It’s not.

It’s the photos from your and Law’s photoshoot.

And it’s like a knife through your heart.

A sob shakes your shoulders as it claws through your throat, and you slump down on the kitchen floor. Tears spill and fall freely across your cheeks, and the pain is overwhelming.

As you flip through the pictures, over and over, you can’t keep grief at bay: You and Law smiling at each other; you rolling Law’s sleeves as he gazes at you with nothing short of adoration; you tousling his hair while he graces you with a smirk; your soft kiss, full of passion; your look of devotion as the both of you realise that what you share is not part of a fake relationship…

There’s so much love there.

It hurts so much.

The pictures scatter on the floor as you use both hands to clamp your mouth. Shanks is just outside, you don’t want to alert him to your crying, but you can’t help the sobs from shaking your chest and shoulders.

It’s too painful.

With trembling hands, you reach for your phone, finger hovering over Law’s name. You want to see him, you want to speak to him… you need him.

An eternity passes before your heart settles, and you set your phone down. You can’t call him.

You can’t…

Picking up the photos, you return to your room to store them somewhere far away from you. At least Shanks didn’t see you break down.

One less worry.

-*-

Shanks waits for you to leave to go to the store to pick up some of his favourite cookies he completely forgot to buy when he was there this morning.

Then he goes to your room. He doesn’t want to pry, actually, he really shouldn’t pry, but he can’t stand to see you so broken, so unlike yourself.

He doesn’t know the full story since you didn’t share everything, but he knows Law means far more to you than you let on. It wasn’t just a small fling that went wrong, as you tried to paint it, it was far deeper. He knows it.

And he needs to see what was inside that envelope that made you break down on the kitchen floor. He wants to help, that’s all.

It takes him little time to find it, though. Ever since you took all of your childhood things out of your room, it’s been quite empty, save for your clothes, some books, and a few items you just didn’t want to part with.

Shanks can’t help the small smile form on his lips as he looks at the pictures of you and Law. You both look so happy, so in love. He can see it in every single one of the photos, from the way you look at each other to the way you touch one another. After a few photos he almost feels like he’s intruding on something personal and private, so he sets the photos back into the envelope and stores it where it was.

He knows what to do to help you now.

Whatever happened between the two of you, it can’t have been destroyed in a weekend. Not when it seems so strong.

He’s done sitting on the sidelines of your life, so he’s going to act.

-*-

When Baby 5 sends him the photos from the photoshoot, Law has half a mind to just throw them in the trash without opening the envelope. He can’t justify why he doesn’t do just that.

Is he a masochist?

He must be.

There’s no other explanation for why he’s opening the envelope, heart already pounding madly against his chest, even before he scans its contents.

When he does, though…

He can’t say he’s more broken-hearted than before, really, because he can’t be more broken than that. But these pictures cut him in ways he can’t even begin to grasp, let alone comprehend. How can what you two had have been forsaken in a few moments?

How can a love so deep and so strong be torn asunder like that?

Nothing adds up, nothing makes sense, and Law doesn’t know what to do anymore. Should he still dare to hope and seek you out himself? Or should he just accept defeat and let you go?

-*-

“Dad, I’m home. I had to go to two different stores just to get you your cookies, so you better–... Shanks!” The sight of your father sprawled out at the bottom of the stairs makes your stomach climb all the way up to your throat. “Dad, dad! What happened?”

Shanks groans and grunts. He’s lying down, his back bent in a weird position and his face twisted with a pained grimace. “I tripped, Bug.”

“Down the stairs? Why can't you be more careful?” You fuss over him, not really knowing if you should move him or not, panic already making you sweat.

“My phone is in the living room. I couldn’t call you or anyone for help. But I’m not that hurt. It’s just my back…”

“What do you mean just your back? The back you just had surgery on? The same one?” Your voice rises with each sarcastic question, already fumbling through your purse, searching for your phone.

“Take me to the clinic, Bug, please.”

Oh, no, no. You can’t. The trembling in your hands makes your phone fall, and you take a deep shaky breath before picking it up and searching for the fire station number. “No. We’re going to the hospital. I’m calling Luffy.”

Shanks’ hand grips your wrist tightly as he whispers your name. “Take me to the clinic. If you take me to the hospital, I’ll be in the ER forever, and they’ll just call Law because he’s the one who operated on me. Cut me some slack and just take me to the one who can help me.”

Shanks is already sitting up with a pained grunt, and you start to panic. You can’t see Law, you just can’t. Even though it’s the one thing you want to do, you can’t.

“I… I…” Though you can stay in the car. You just need to drive your dad there, that’s it. That’s all you have to do, there’s no need to go inside. “Okay, let’s go.”

-*-

“Here we are, I’ll leave you with Penguin and Shachi and wait here in the car, okay?”

“No!” Shanks exclaims, one hand already clutching your wrist while the other presses into his lower back. “It hurts, Bug, I need you, please!” If you hadn’t witnessed his sprawled-out form at the bottom of the steps, you would say he’s faking it.

You have half a mind to refuse and just call one of the men over to help, but your heart constricts in your chest, and all the sleepless nights you spent by his side when he was operated on rush into your mind like a drama movie. He needs you, and you need to know he’ll be fine.

“Fine! Let’s go.” Ushering your father through the entrance of the clinic, you still have every intention of leaving him with the nurses, like you did the first time you brought him here, and leaving to wait for him in the car, begging Kaya to update you with news. He’ll be none the wiser, and you won’t have to face Law.

But just by being in the clinic, your heart seems ready to burst out of your chest with all the force it’s beating with. How would Law react if he saw you?

Hurt, definitely. Betrayed, for sure. Angry? Most likely.

While you would shatter immediately. You miss him so, so much.

“Kaya, can you help us, please?” Your words are barely a whisper. You’re not sure if Law can hear what happens outside of his office door, but you don’t want to chance it. Kaya looks at you in awe and, then, with one look at your father, her expression changes to a half-hidden smirk.

What?

You look at Shanks, but he’s still grimacing in pain, though you can almost wager he made some sort of signal to Kaya for her to react like that.

“Bring Mr. S. this way.” She leads you towards a familiar door, and you pause.

“Oh, no, no. Where’s Penguin? Or Shachi? Dad, you can go in… I’ll…”

“Nonsense! Let’s go!” Kaya practically shoves you until you’re in front of Law’s office door. Your stomach turns and twists, and you can’t stop the ragged gasps from leaving you.

You can’t do this. You can’t see Law. Doflamingo… the clinic… no, no, no…

“There’s an urgent patient, Dr. Trafalgar!” Kaya announces as she opens the door without knocking and shoves you inside.

Your breath catches in your throat when you and Law lock gazes. He’s slumped on his desk, elbows on the table while his fingers thread through his dark locks, a defeated look in his eyes, and you can’t help but feel all the pain of the past weeks crashing down in waves again.

He’s up in an instant, a surprised look in his eyes and a flicker of hope in them. He quickly masks it by holding his cold demeanour back in place, though. Everything happens in seconds, but it’s been so long since you’ve seen him that it seems like an eternity.

God, it hurts so much.

“Would you look at that, my back is healed! I feel fine! But maybe you two should talk.” Shanks exclaims before closing the door and leaving you inside, heart thumping and tears threatening to fall.

All you want to do is run to him, swing your arms around his neck and kiss him. Tell him how sorry you are and how it was all a mistake and how much you love him.

But you can’t.

Because everything he’s worked for is on the line and Doflamingo can destroy it all in mere seconds.

“I… I… I should go…” You whisper but don’t make a single move. You don’t want to go. You thought you were strong enough to endure separation because it was for Law’s sake. You could handle a broken heart, you’ve done it before, even if it didn’t hurt nearly as much as now. But the truth is that you’re weak, and now Law is right in front of you. The damage is already done, so you better use it to at least apologise.

Right?

“Maybe you should. That’s one thing you seem to be good at… leaving me.” Law’s voice sounds broken, unused, and very raw. His words hurt more than any separation ever could, but they ring true. He’s right, you left him.

Biting down your lip to hold in a sob, you wrap your arms around yourself as a shield and downcast your gaze.

“I’m sorry…” That’s all you can say. You can’t tell him what Doflamingo threatened, you can’t share any of that. But you want to make amends. At least that. “I never meant to hurt you.”

Law starts to pace his office, his hand raking through his hair in desperate motions, all of his control seemingly slipping away with ease now that he’s seen you.

“And yet you did. Why? I just–... God! Why?” You remain silent. You can’t tell him the truth, but you refuse to lie. “Why go back to a toxic relationship? I thought–... damnit, I thought you were healing! Why?”

You can hold back the words but you fail to hold back the tears. Your nails are already shaping indents against your arms with the strength you're gripping them and your lower lip must be near breaking open with the force of which you are biting it.

“I need to know what happened, I thought we–... I thought you loved me!” The way his voice breaks has you instantly sobbing. Why does it hurt so much? “Please… tell me… please.”

‘I don’t beg, sweetheart. Ever.’

He said that to you in your most intimate moment and yet… Now he’s begging you for the truth. But you can’t!

“Do you still love him?” Your head raises in shock and you see Law slumping his shoulders, his eyes downcasting like he’s expecting you to answer ‘yes’, and you can’t stay silent anymore.

“I don’t! I don’t love him, Law, I love–...” You stop the words just as you were about to spill them, but Law seems so focused on finding out what happened that he doesn’t even acknowledge what you were about to say.

“Did you kiss him?”

“No!” Law raises his eyes to you, a hint of disbelief darkening the amber in them and you falter. He doesn’t trust your words, you’ve hurt him too deeply. “I didn’t! And I shouldn’t have hugged him either, that was a terrible mistake!”

“Then why did you?”

“I thought–...” This you can share, at least this might help mitigate some of his pain. “He wanted closure, that’s what he said, so he could leave and move on and, frankly, so did I!” You sigh, and another sob accompanies it. “I was feeling the happiest I’ve ever felt because of you… and when he proposed closure, I thought… that’s exactly what I needed too!”

You have been wracking your brain as to why you so readily accepted his hug and came to this conclusion, even though it was an unconscious one, you know that’s what your heart meant.

“I needed to leave my hurtful past behind so I could start a future with you. I just never thought… If I could go back… I would’ve never let them–...” Another sob interrupts your speech, and you use it to shut up because if you don’t, you might speak too much, you might’ve already have…

Law is silent, and you steal a glance his way. He’s still pacing back and forth, a deep crease between his eyebrows to accompany his pursed lips, like he’s in deep thought. Maybe he didn’t acknowledge your slip-up again.

“You don’t love him, you didn’t kiss him…” He pauses right in front of you and you have to hold your breath because his scent is intoxicating. It brings back memories of kisses and touches, of sweet nothings and whispered forevers. It’s much more than you can bear at the moment. “So… why? Why did you leave with him? There has to be an explanation…”

He takes another step forward but quickly falls back, clenching his fists against his legs as if to stop himself from the impulse to touch you.

“I knew that what I saw must’ve had an explanation, so as soon as I cooled off, I came back. I was going to speak with you, hear what you had to say because, surely, I had jumped to conclusions. But then…” Law retreats another step, passing his hand through his face and groaning. “You were leaving with Vinsmoke! With him! Not at the same time as him by coincidence or chance, but with him.” Another fresh wave of tears hits you, and the slight tremble in Law’s voice shows you just how hard he’s struggling to keep it together. “Why? I can’t understand why…”

And you can’t tell him.

So, this is where you’re going to leave things. He wants to understand, and you can’t explain. You both love each other so much and you can’t be together. It’s heart-wrenching, devastating, and you just feel like screaming.

“Why?” He insists and you keep sobbing. Your name leaves his lips in another whispered plea. “Why?”

“I can’t…” You say, the pain of your words cutting deep into both your hearts.

Suddenly, he’s right in front of you, his presence overwhelming, as always, and the urge to hold him is so strong that it almost makes you dizzy. You take two steps back to try and escape him before you fold, and stop when your back hits the door.

“You can’t, what?” He insists, still coming closer, his voice more eager, like he’s realising there’s something you’re not telling him and that it must be the puzzle piece he’s been missing to grasp what happened.

You just shake your head, closing your eyes and biting back another sob. With another step, he’s right in front of you. It takes another heartbeat to feel his hand cupping your cheek, feeling your tears, maybe realising you’re hurting too much for someone who, supposedly, left him.

God, you’re not strong enough.

“Tell me what really happened. I refuse to believe you just left me like that.” Law presses his forehead against yours, and you let out a strangled whimper. You need his touch, his love, his lips… you need him. Suddenly, Law’s breath hitches, like he finally grasped something. “Them…? You said ‘them’! Do you mean… is Doffy involved? Is he threatening you?”

You know Law is a genius, but you weren’t expecting him to get it so fast. Still, you shake your head. You can’t risk Doflamingo shutting down Law’s clinic. You just can’t. You don’t know if Law would choose you over his job, and you don’t want to force him to have to make that choice.

“You can’t say, right? Fine.” He pulls back his face, but not his body or his hand. “Look at me.” You obey because he’s using the voice and, frankly, you just don’t have any strength left to fight anymore. “I’m going to ask you one question, and if the answer is ‘no’, you can leave and we don’t have to speak anymore. Okay?”

You nod softly, his closeness leaving you breathless.

“Do you love me?” Law’s thumb brushes your lower lip, his face too close to yours, and you try, you really try hard to hold back your emotions, but you can't. Whatever feeble defences you had left come down crumbling and crashing alongside a fresh bout of tears as you nod vigorously.

“I do. I love you, Law, I love you so much.” Your voice falters with the weight of everything because if there was a chance of just leaving Law behind and having him and his business be safe, it was now, and you just squandered it. “So, so much.”

Your eyes meet his, and he stops breathing for a moment. The cold gaze he’s been wearing and shielding his emotions with dissolves as his gaze softens. Relief, longing, and a resemblance of understanding flood his features as he cups your face with both hands.

“God, love, I’ve missed you so much.”

You barely have time to process anything before his lips crash into yours in a kiss full of longing and despair. You immediately melt into his touch, your fingers grasping his shirt, pulling him closer to you, afraid you’ll lose him again.

You know Doffy is going to make his threat come true; you know you’ve just jeopardised Law’s lifework; you know you should’ve just left when you had the chance; you know this is all wrong.

But how can wrong feel so right?

This is where you belong, this is where you want to be.

Forever.

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|Epilogue|

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